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in weight of shot, I would not take it at the best of times. This is not such an occasion. We have a duty to the fleet and Admiral Hotham to stay in one piece and to continue to be observant.’
    He turned away from his wife then to give his orders.
    ‘Mr Glaister, bring us about, and order Captain Gould to close so that he can take on board my despatch. Mr Collins, I want everything aloft that she will bear. Let’s show these French dogs what a British ship can do, well handled, one that will be back off their anchorage a week hence, to assess their progress. And rest assured, gentlemen, if we catch one of the enemy alone, we will show him what the Royal Navy can do in a fight.’
     
    Closing with HMS Firefly so that his despatch could be transferred, and the subsequent shortening of sail to effect it, slowed down that flight, but Ralph Barclay was not bothered by that. The fact that the French ships were closing brought them into view, hull up, through a long glass. But before he could do that he must give his junior his instructions.
    ‘Mr Gould, we shall run due west until nightfall, when I want you to set your course for Gibraltar. You are toproceed with all haste, sparing neither wood nor canvas, and keep a look out for the fact that Admiral Hotham may have already cleared the Straits. What you carry is vital to the future success of our nation’s arms.’
    Having delivered what he thought a rousing little homily, he took up a telescope and began to study his putative enemies. Carefully he noted the distinguishing nature of each vessel, sail plan, figureheads, how she lay on the wind, as well as the manner in which they were handled and which was the swiftest, making many a mental note that would come into play should he meet any of them again. Finally, aware that the whole of his crew were merely waiting for the order, he gave the command to set all sail.
    That occasioned another shaft of pleasure, for his men were now fully worked up, so that the task of setting the sails, once a noisy mayhem, was now smooth and carried out in relative quiet, with only spoken commands and the Bosun’s various pipes being required to complete the whole in very short order, as they headed towards the setting sun, sitting in the diminishing wake of HMS Firefly .

C HAPTER T HREE
    If John Pearce’s interview with Admiral Graves had gone badly, that was as nothing to the one he sought to have with Lord Howe. Having, at a rate of eight pence a mile, taken a post-chaise all the way to Bath, he found that the old admiral had surrounded himself, in the form of clerks and aides, with a carapace of protection that would have done justice to an Eastern potentate. Only official despatches from the Admiralty or those from his inferior admirals in Portsmouth were allowed to disturb his days of eating, drinking, taking the restorative waters in the old Roman baths and playing cards in the Pump Room. A plea that the liberty of the King’s subjects was at stake got Pearce precisely nowhere; a demand that a promise made required fulfilment also fell on deaf ears, with the addition of a stinging rebuke for presumption thrown in from a member of his protective screen.
    ‘When will the Admiral go back to Portsmouth?’
    ‘When the French make it necessary he should do so. Now be gone.’
    There were two other possibilities, people who might intercede on behalf of his Pelicans; the Admiralty itself and William Pitt, the King’s First Minister, who had offered his help in the matter of a place should he need it, though he had no certainty what it would be worth as a promise, any more than that of Howe. He was even more doubtful about it being extended to an entirely different matter, such as thefate of illegally pressed seamen. Even with time being of the essence, that required a careful assessment of his funds – money ‘borrowed’ from his wealthy paramour – for he could not afford another post-chaise all the way to London. A compromise was