certain friendliness towards us, eh?â He smiled, a sardonic grin, and held up his glass of the admiralâs claret. âThe matter of a butt or two of wine and a trifle or two of information; you understand?â
Drinkwater felt a recurrence of the irritation caused earlier by this man, but Cornwallis intervened. âI am sure Captain Drinkwater understands perfectly, Philip. But Captain, tell us the news from London. What are the fears of invasion at the present time?â
âSomewhat abated, sir. Most of the news is of the problems surrounding Addingtonâs ministry. The First Lord is under constantattack from the opposition led by Pitt . . .â
âAnd we all know the justice of Billy Pittâs allegations, by God,â put in the stranger with some heat.
Drinkwater ignored the outburst. âAs to the invasion, I think there is little fear while you are here, sir, and the French fleet is in port. I believe St Vincent to be somewhat maligned, although the difficulties experienced in fitting out do support some of Mr Pittâs accusations.â Drinkwater judged it would not do him any good to expatiate on St Vincentâs well-meaning but near-disastrous attempts to root out corruption, and he did owe his own promotion to the old manâs influence.
Cornwallis smiled. âWhat does St Vincent say to Mr Pitt, Captain?â
âThat although the French may invade, sir, he is confident that they will not invade by sea.â
Cornwallis laughed. âThere, at least, St Vincent and I would find common ground. Philip here is alarmed that any relaxation on our part would be ill-timed.â Then the humour went out of his expression and he fell silent. Cornwallis occupied the most important station in the British navy. As Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet he was not merely concerned with blockading Brest, but also with maintaining British vigilance off LâOrient, Rochefort and even Ferrol where neutral Spain had been coerced into allowing France to use the naval arsenals for her own. In addition there was the immense problem of the defence of the Channel itself, still thought vulnerable if a French squadron could be assembled elsewhere in the world, say the West Indies, and descend upon it in sufficient force to avoid or brush aside the Channel Fleet. On Cornwallisâs shoulder fell the awesome burden of ensuring St Vincentâs words were true, and Cornwallis had transformed the slack methods of his predecessor into a strictly enforced blockade, earning himself the soubriquet of âBilly Blueâ from his habit of hoisting the Blue Peter to the foremasthead the instant his flagship cast anchor when driven off station by the heavy gales that had bedevilled his fleet since the New Year. It was clear that the responsibility and the monotony of such a task were wearing the elderly man out. Drinkwater sensed he would have liked to agree with the current opinion in London that the threat of invasion had diminished.
âDid you see much of the French forces or the encampments, Captain?â asked the stranger.
âA little above Boulogne, sir, but I was fortunate in having a favourable easterly and was ordered out by way of Portsmouth and sofavoured the English coast. I took aboard the Admiralty papers at Portsmouth.â
âIt is a weary business, Captain Drinkwater,â Cornwallis said sadly, âand I am always in want of frigates . . . by heaven âtis a plaguey dismal way of spending a life in the public service!â
âConsole yourself, Sir William,â the stranger put in at this show of bile, and with a warmth of feeling that indicated he was on exceptionally intimate terms with the Commander-in-Chief. âConsider the wisdom of Pericles: âIf they are kept off the sea by our superior strength, their want of practice will make them unskilful and their want of skill, timid.â Now that is an incontestable
Drinkwater felt a recurrence of the irritation caused earlier by this man, but Cornwallis intervened. âI am sure Captain Drinkwater understands perfectly, Philip. But Captain, tell us the news from London. What are the fears of invasion at the present time?â
âSomewhat abated, sir. Most of the news is of the problems surrounding Addingtonâs ministry. The First Lord is under constantattack from the opposition led by Pitt . . .â
âAnd we all know the justice of Billy Pittâs allegations, by God,â put in the stranger with some heat.
Drinkwater ignored the outburst. âAs to the invasion, I think there is little fear while you are here, sir, and the French fleet is in port. I believe St Vincent to be somewhat maligned, although the difficulties experienced in fitting out do support some of Mr Pittâs accusations.â Drinkwater judged it would not do him any good to expatiate on St Vincentâs well-meaning but near-disastrous attempts to root out corruption, and he did owe his own promotion to the old manâs influence.
Cornwallis smiled. âWhat does St Vincent say to Mr Pitt, Captain?â
âThat although the French may invade, sir, he is confident that they will not invade by sea.â
Cornwallis laughed. âThere, at least, St Vincent and I would find common ground. Philip here is alarmed that any relaxation on our part would be ill-timed.â Then the humour went out of his expression and he fell silent. Cornwallis occupied the most important station in the British navy. As Commander-in-Chief of the Channel Fleet he was not merely concerned with blockading Brest, but also with maintaining British vigilance off LâOrient, Rochefort and even Ferrol where neutral Spain had been coerced into allowing France to use the naval arsenals for her own. In addition there was the immense problem of the defence of the Channel itself, still thought vulnerable if a French squadron could be assembled elsewhere in the world, say the West Indies, and descend upon it in sufficient force to avoid or brush aside the Channel Fleet. On Cornwallisâs shoulder fell the awesome burden of ensuring St Vincentâs words were true, and Cornwallis had transformed the slack methods of his predecessor into a strictly enforced blockade, earning himself the soubriquet of âBilly Blueâ from his habit of hoisting the Blue Peter to the foremasthead the instant his flagship cast anchor when driven off station by the heavy gales that had bedevilled his fleet since the New Year. It was clear that the responsibility and the monotony of such a task were wearing the elderly man out. Drinkwater sensed he would have liked to agree with the current opinion in London that the threat of invasion had diminished.
âDid you see much of the French forces or the encampments, Captain?â asked the stranger.
âA little above Boulogne, sir, but I was fortunate in having a favourable easterly and was ordered out by way of Portsmouth and sofavoured the English coast. I took aboard the Admiralty papers at Portsmouth.â
âIt is a weary business, Captain Drinkwater,â Cornwallis said sadly, âand I am always in want of frigates . . . by heaven âtis a plaguey dismal way of spending a life in the public service!â
âConsole yourself, Sir William,â the stranger put in at this show of bile, and with a warmth of feeling that indicated he was on exceptionally intimate terms with the Commander-in-Chief. âConsider the wisdom of Pericles: âIf they are kept off the sea by our superior strength, their want of practice will make them unskilful and their want of skill, timid.â Now that is an incontestable