A Divided Command Read Online Free PDF Page B

Blackfriars Bridge.
    If it sounded false to his ears as he had said it, the statement had been enough to ensure the censure of Ralph Barclay was no more than a wrist slap for an act that, had it been laid at the door of the man responsible, which would have proved it to be deliberate, could have seen his uncle in serious trouble.
    Such false testimony had only been possible because there was no one present to refute the lies being peddled, and again Hotham was the villain of the piece. He had staffed the trial with compliant officers, men who looked to him for advancement and opportunity, as well as sending away on an extended mission to the Bay of Biscay anyone, John Pearce in particular, able to tell the truth.
    All these worries, easily diminished in captivity, were resurfacing to haunt him again. The letter he had sent in reply to Lucknor’s enquiries, seeking to exculpate his sin, seemed feeble in recollection, hardly enough to lay the blame where it squarely lay, with his Uncle Ralph. Composed weeks before, it would surely have arrived in Gray’s Inn by now. Would the attorney believe his excuses, that if he had perjured himself, it had been done under the duress applied by those who had coached him on how to respond to questions? And even if he did, what would happen next?
    ‘How in the name of the devil can you look so gloomy, young sir?’ Buchanan demanded.
    Toby Burns, when he felt threatened, had one trait that never failed him and that was the ability to produce quick and easy-to-believe excuses, often ones that expressed worthwhile sentiments utterly at odds with his true feelings. Out on the battlements now he made a point of looking at the town of Calvi, which lay below the fortress, destroyed by endless bombardment so that hardly a single building stoodand none intact; given that aspect he could conjure up words to cover his apparent misery.
    ‘How many died or were maimed for this place, sir, and was it worth it?’
    ‘Worthy lad, very worthy,’ Buchanan replied, gravely. ‘Does you proud to think that way. But that is war and there is no gainsaying that folk, innocent and guilty alike, suffer in any conflict.’
    ‘How right you are, sir,’ Toby replied, not thinking of Calvi but himself.

    The arrival of an armed cutter sailing under an Admiralty pennant did not go unnoticed aboard
HMS Britannia
, being unusual enough to cause much comment on the quarterdeck, given most despatches came by civilian packet from Gibraltar. The flag officer aboard being a stickler for things being done proper – and he was the sole arbiter of what that might be – obliged the officer of the watch to send a midshipman to the great cabin to appraise the occupant of the approach.
    Vice Admiral Sir William Hotham saw no need to stir, given it would head for Hood’s flagship, not his own, while whatever messages it bore would only be passed on to him if and when his superior thought it necessary. Yet such an arrival could do naught but stir unhappy thoughts: no job was as thankless as that of being second in command of a fighting fleet, made doubly disagreeable when the man to whom you must defer was one of questionable tactical skill, as well as being a commander unwilling ever to listen to sound advice.
    In his darker moods, William Hotham felt that the onlyway he would get a proper hearing, or have his notions of strategy adopted as policy, Hood being so contrary to him both personally and professionally, was to propose the precise opposite of what he truly believed. These were grievances he had often penned and sent home to his Whig friends and supporters in London, most potently his patron, the Duke of Portland.
    Hotham had doubted, and still did, the present siege of Calvi, for the very same reason that he had opposed that popinjay Nelson’s assault from the sea on Bastia, for Corsica was not worth the wax off a candle. Such adventures were unnecessary, the soldiers were against them and it stood to reason that