ship two and a half cables from the next ahead. Divisions for battle would be signified by a specific triangular flag; these were empowered to take on the enemy independently.
But it was the Fighting Memorandum that had the officers talking. It spoke in powerful terms of close combat during which
“should a captain compel any of the Enemy’s ships to strike their Colours, he is at liberty to judge and act . . . to cut away their masts and bowsprit . . .” and that “. . . possession of ships of the enemy should be by one officer and one boat’s crew only, that the British ship may be enabled to continue the attack . . .”
The overall tenor of the orders was encapsulated in one single stirring sentence: “. . . this special observance, namely that the destruction of the enemy’s armament is the sole object . . . ” This
Tenacious
7
was real fighting talk. No intricate manoeuvres, no time wasted in forming a line-of-battle, just forthright demands to fall upon the enemy in the most direct and effective manner at hand and the confident assumption that the English fleet would prevail.
The wardroom was abuzz long into the night with the implications for individual initiative, the risk for Nelson in trusting his captains with the close-in climax of a battle, and the probability of a rapid conclusion—one way or the other.
First one, then a multitude of sails lifted above the horizon. After an anxious wait the ships were finally revealed to be the longed-for reinforcements. For three days the newly formed battle fleet lay hove to. Boats plied busily between ships as captains met their admiral and officers reported to the flagship with their order books to receive the details resulting from strategy realised into tactics by the fertile mind of their chief. When all was complete, the collection of fourteen warships was as one under a single command. It was time to go in chase of the French fleet.
Signal guns on Vanguard cracked impatiently. In three divisions, led by Nelson and supported by Captain Troubridge to larboard of the line and Captain Saumarez to starboard, the fleet began its quest.
Kydd was anxious, but it was not the hazards of storm or enemy that made his palms moist: it was the knowledge that he and his ship were under the eye of the most famous fighting admiral of the age. They were daring to become one of an élite band of ships and men beginning to be known throughout the Royal Navy: Troubridge of Culloden, Hallowell of Swiftsure, Foley of Goliath, Hood of Zealous. To see the crusty Houghton return from colloquy with Nelson, eyes alight and pride in his voice, Kydd knew that this was a professional pinnacle in his career and, whatever happened, he must not fail.
Julian Stockwin
• • •
Nelson’s first move was to the eastward, rounding the north of Corsica with his fleet in tight formation, laying to in the evening off the sprawling island of Elba. It was vital to gain intelligence on the whereabouts of the French armament. To blunder into it round the next point of land would be disastrous. All that was known was that the French had sailed, and because the reinforcements had come from Gibraltar without sighting them the armada must have passed north about Corsica and then down the Italian coast—to Rome? Naples? Malta?
With not a single frigate to scout ahead there was little choice: the brig Mutine was pressed into service. The game little vessel would look ahead into the bays and harbours of the coast of Italy and hope she could survive any encounter with the French.
Meanwhile the fleet would stop any vessel that dared show itself. These were few: a terrified Moorish xebec swore that he had seen the French fleet at Syracuse, and a tunny fisherman solemnly declared that he had sailed through the entire armada not far to their immediate south three days previously. The land of Corsica and north Italy under their lee were French now and hostile so would not provide reliable
But it was the Fighting Memorandum that had the officers talking. It spoke in powerful terms of close combat during which
“should a captain compel any of the Enemy’s ships to strike their Colours, he is at liberty to judge and act . . . to cut away their masts and bowsprit . . .” and that “. . . possession of ships of the enemy should be by one officer and one boat’s crew only, that the British ship may be enabled to continue the attack . . .”
The overall tenor of the orders was encapsulated in one single stirring sentence: “. . . this special observance, namely that the destruction of the enemy’s armament is the sole object . . . ” This
Tenacious
7
was real fighting talk. No intricate manoeuvres, no time wasted in forming a line-of-battle, just forthright demands to fall upon the enemy in the most direct and effective manner at hand and the confident assumption that the English fleet would prevail.
The wardroom was abuzz long into the night with the implications for individual initiative, the risk for Nelson in trusting his captains with the close-in climax of a battle, and the probability of a rapid conclusion—one way or the other.
First one, then a multitude of sails lifted above the horizon. After an anxious wait the ships were finally revealed to be the longed-for reinforcements. For three days the newly formed battle fleet lay hove to. Boats plied busily between ships as captains met their admiral and officers reported to the flagship with their order books to receive the details resulting from strategy realised into tactics by the fertile mind of their chief. When all was complete, the collection of fourteen warships was as one under a single command. It was time to go in chase of the French fleet.
Signal guns on Vanguard cracked impatiently. In three divisions, led by Nelson and supported by Captain Troubridge to larboard of the line and Captain Saumarez to starboard, the fleet began its quest.
Kydd was anxious, but it was not the hazards of storm or enemy that made his palms moist: it was the knowledge that he and his ship were under the eye of the most famous fighting admiral of the age. They were daring to become one of an élite band of ships and men beginning to be known throughout the Royal Navy: Troubridge of Culloden, Hallowell of Swiftsure, Foley of Goliath, Hood of Zealous. To see the crusty Houghton return from colloquy with Nelson, eyes alight and pride in his voice, Kydd knew that this was a professional pinnacle in his career and, whatever happened, he must not fail.
Julian Stockwin
• • •
Nelson’s first move was to the eastward, rounding the north of Corsica with his fleet in tight formation, laying to in the evening off the sprawling island of Elba. It was vital to gain intelligence on the whereabouts of the French armament. To blunder into it round the next point of land would be disastrous. All that was known was that the French had sailed, and because the reinforcements had come from Gibraltar without sighting them the armada must have passed north about Corsica and then down the Italian coast—to Rome? Naples? Malta?
With not a single frigate to scout ahead there was little choice: the brig Mutine was pressed into service. The game little vessel would look ahead into the bays and harbours of the coast of Italy and hope she could survive any encounter with the French.
Meanwhile the fleet would stop any vessel that dared show itself. These were few: a terrified Moorish xebec swore that he had seen the French fleet at Syracuse, and a tunny fisherman solemnly declared that he had sailed through the entire armada not far to their immediate south three days previously. The land of Corsica and north Italy under their lee were French now and hostile so would not provide reliable
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