HMS Valiant - 37. Chapter 37

February 18, 1800

HMS Valiant

Malta

“Mr. Weston, please change the lookouts,” Granger ordered. Dawn was almost upon them, and Granger had a feeling that there was something out there.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston said.

Daventry came out onto the deck and joined Granger. “You seem to be on edge, as if you anticipate something is about to happen.” He and Daventry almost automatically began to pace together. The waves were small, so it was a particularly easy task to walk up and down the long quarterdeck.

“I have learned over the years to trust my instincts, and I feel as if there is something out there that will be revealed as soon as dawn breaks,” Granger said. He was amazed that he’d revealed that, and chided himself for eschewing his normally strong reserve. Yet there was something about Daventry that made Granger trust him, and he had grown closer to the man as they’d sailed across the Mediterranean.

“I will merely be amazed to find us in a different part of this sea,” Daventry said with irritation. They’d had foul winds for almost two weeks now, making their progress painfully slow. Overnight the wind had freshened, but the clear skies had remained. Granger expected it would turn out to be a pleasant day at sea, despite the crisp temperatures.

“I do not remember a passage that has gone this slowly,” Granger agreed. “We have been cursed with bad luck.”

“I think that our luck, overall, has been good, and that is something I want to talk to you about.” Before he could continue, Kingsdale came on deck, sporting his cropped haircut. “Before we discuss that, I do believe that with Lord Kingsdale’s recent crop, that now constitutes a two-thirds majority of your officers who have followed your fashion trend.”

“You were unable to convince Clifton or Andrews,” Granger said with a smile.

“Clifton must keep his father happy, and Andrews is so stolid I wonder if he even perspires,” Daventry said.

Granger laughed, even as he pulled ten guineas out of his purse and paid Daventry his gambling debt. “And now you can tell me why you are concerned about our good luck.”

“I expect that we will be in Sicily shortly, and you will meet with your admiral,” Daventry said. “Nelson is in command, no?”

“Unless he has been superseded,” Granger said. In the past, the thought of visiting Nelson had filled him with excitement, but after his stay in Palermo, he found that he was not nearly as happy about it.

“I would like to ask that you refrain from mentioning our recent mission as regards the Guild,” Daventry said.

“It would be appropriate for me to apprise him of what I’ve been up to,” Granger said, even as he contemplated Daventry’s words.

“I understand, but when you are dealing with secret service issues, sometimes it is important to be less forthcoming with information,” Daventry said.

“Are you concerned that Nelson is linked to the Guild?” Granger asked.

“I am not, although I am not sure that they could not lure him to their cause with some well-placed contributions.”

“I don’t think Lord Nelson would be vulnerable to bribery,” Granger said indignantly.

“Granger, I did not mean to insult your admiral. You clearly admire him greatly. But consider that the Guild is an insidious group, and they would probably work to coax information and cooperation from him without his even realizing he was doing something wrong,” Daventry said. Granger would have given Nelson the benefit of the doubt before, but seeing his lack of judgment in his dealings with both Lady Hamilton and the Sicilian Court caused him to question that.

“I can see how those people would be capable of such a thing,” Granger said.

“I would submit that it is best to keep the knowledge of the plan we uncovered, and its failure, as confidential as possible.” This issue was obviously of great concern to Daventry, but Granger was unwilling to make a decision without knowing why.

“Tell me what you are worried about,” Granger demanded. Daventry hesitated, and that annoyed Granger. “Is our trust to only be one way?”

“I would submit that your directive from His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales would, alone, be enough for you to do as I ask,” Daventry said haughtily. Before Granger could respond, he spoke again. “Forgive me. Such an outburst was unnecessary.”

“My forgiveness is conditional on your revelation of what vexes you,” Granger said firmly.

“It is quite possible that the Guild will think their plan was successful,” Daventry said.

“You are suggesting that they will not realize we intercepted their chests?”

“I am,” Daventry said. “They will know that Lady Elgin delivered the letter to Jardines. They will know that a British major arrived and carried off the two chests. They will also know that a British officer was seen arranging passage to India via Aleppo. All those things would have happened if things were going as they should, according to the Guild.”

“There are few people who know the truth,” Granger mused.

“The men on this ship will have some snippets of information, and that worries me,” he said. “But there is not much to be done about that.”

“Indeed,” Granger agreed, but then a new thought began to bother him. When men knew information they should not, it was not unusual for the Admiralty to ship them off to obscure parts of the globe. Is that the fate that awaited his crew? Would their silence be assured by a trip to the Caribbean, or the Far East? Before Granger could unduly fret about that, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Sail ho, two cables off the starboard bow!” came the cry from the main top.

“Deck there! Two ships, under easy sail,” augmented the lookout in the foretop.

“What are they?” Granger called.

“Looks to be Foudroyant and Alexander, my lord,” the lookout forward responded.

“Deck there! Ship off the starboard, aft,” shouted the mizzen lookout. “I think she is Northumberland, my lord.” And then they heard the drums beating as the ships around them beat to quarters. Granger grinned, because only Royal Navy ships played ‘Hearts of Oak’ when they beat to quarters.

“We appear to have wandered into the middle of our own squadron,” Granger said jovially. “Mr. Llewellyn, make our number.”

Granger almost chuckled to himself as he thought of how the inability of those ships to identify Valiant had damned them to hours of confusion as they secured their ships from quarters. The sun rose, fully revealing Valiant surrounded by three British ships of the line. “Flag to Valiant, Captain to repair on board, my lord,” Llewellyn chirped.

“Acknowledge,” Granger said. “Mr. Weston, put us next to Foudroyant. Winkler, I’ll need my uniform!”

“Aye aye, my lord,” they chimed.

“Daventry, you are welcome to accompany me to call on the admiral,” Granger said.

“Then I will also make myself more presentable,” Daventry said, even though he looked quite splendid as it was. Granger went back to his cabin and with amazing speed, he and Winkler managed to rig him into his best dress uniform. He returned on deck to find that Weston was just guiding Valiant into position. He stood back and watched him execute a perfect maneuver.

“That was well done, Mr. Weston,” Granger said.

“Thank you, my lord. Your gig is alongside,” he said with his characteristic broad grin. It was incredibly pleasant to have an officer like Weston who anticipated his needs instead of merely waiting for orders.

“Then I will leave Valiant in your capable hands,” Granger said. “Let us go call on Lord Nelson,” he said to Daventry.

“I think it will be nice to break up an otherwise dreary day,” Daventry replied. He preceded Granger into the gig, and then took his seat in the rear with Granger.

“I have thought about what you said, and I will do as you request,” Granger said.

“Thank you,” Daventry replied. There was but a short ride to get to Foudroyant. Granger hauled himself up her steep sides, and arrived at her entry port, only slightly out of breath. Sir Edward Berry was there to greet him.

“Welcome aboard, my lord,” Berry said stiffly.

“Thank you, Sir Edward,” Granger said formally. Daventry came through the entry port at that moment. “I do not know if you have had the pleasure of meeting Lord Daventry?”

“I have not,” Berry said. Granger wasn’t surprised. Berry certainly wouldn’t run in the same social circles as Daventry, and since Berry was stiff and boring company, there was little reason for them to have encountered each other. Granger introduced them quickly, and then Berry led them back to Nelson’s cabin. Granger removed his hat as he entered Nelson’s cabin. Nelson demanded that gesture from officers subordinate to him, and it was quickly becoming a naval custom.

“Granger!” Nelson said with enthusiasm, and shook his hand warmly. “How wonderful to see you.”

“It is good to see you as well, sir,” Granger said cheerfully.

“You have cropped your hair and it has made you even more handsome,” Nelson said.

“I did not realize it was possible for me to be more handsome, sir,” Granger joked.

“Daventry, what brings you out here? I usually see you in London, not in the middle of the Mediterranean.”

“I was determined to explore some Greek ruins, despite the exigencies of war,” Daventry said in his foppish tone. “I was successful, and have managed to acquire a free passage home.”

“That is damned lucky of you,” Nelson said. “And what have you been up to, Granger?”

“I deposited Lord and Lady Elgin in Constantinople, had an unpleasant audience with the Sultan, and then picked up Lord Daventry, sir,” Granger said.

“You irritated the Sultan?” Nelson asked, annoyed. He wore the garish decoration the Sultan had given him after the Nile in his hat, so it was no wonder he’d be worried Granger had offended one of his admirers.

“His Majesty was under the impression that I was a tyrant and a murderer. I was able to remind him I was also your friend, sir, and I am sure that saved me from the depths of a Turkish dungeon,” Granger said with a smile.

“We will have to hope Elgin can smooth things over,” Nelson said. Their discussion was interrupted by a midshipman, who was turned out as perfectly as one would expect for a young gentleman serving aboard a flagship.

“My lord, Alexander is signaling. She’s sighted strange ships on course to Valetta,” he said.

Nelson was heading to the door almost before the midshipman was done speaking, with Daventry and Granger following behind him. Granger saw Perkins on the quarterdeck, supervising the signals, and exchanged a brief but knowing smile with him. “Strange ships?” Nelson asked Perkins.

“I can send up the interrogatory, my lord,” Perkins said.

“Do it,” Nelson ordered.

Granger saw Foudroyant’s first lieutenant, Macclesfield, standing attentively next to Berry. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Macclesfield,” Granger lied. The man was Berry’s stooge, and the whole affair with his challenge to Weston in Palermo would forever cloud Granger’s opinion of him.

“It is good to see you as well, my lord,” Macclesfield said stiffly, much as Berry would. Granger greeted the other officers and introduced them to Daventry while they awaited a reply from Alexander.

“Alexander to Flag, my lord,” Perkins said. “Enemy in sight.”

“Signal general chase,” Nelson said, and then turned to Granger. “Tell me of your first lieutenant.”

“Mr. Weston is an excellent officer, sir,” Granger said. “He has served with me over these past three years, and is brave, intelligent, and a superb seaman.”

“Then we will test his skills at handling Valiant,” Nelson said. “Perkins, signal Valiant to maintain station on Flag.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Perkins said. “Valiant has acknowledged.”

Granger turned to look at his ship and saw Weston give orders to bring Valiant into the wind. “He handles her well,” Nelson noted.

“Yes, sir,” Granger said proudly.

“All ships have acknowledged,” Perkins said.

“Excellent, now what of these other ships?” Nelson asked.

“With your permission, sir, I would like to go aloft and see for myself,” Granger said.

“Of course, Granger,” he said. Granger attached a glass to his waist and grabbed the shrouds. He scaled up the huge mainmast with ease, conscious that he was being watched by everyone on the deck.

He reached the top and lodged himself next to a pig-tailed seaman. “They’re off there, my lord,” he pointed.

“Thank you,” Granger said, and aimed his glass at the ships. There were three transports, and they were being escorted by three corvettes and a ship of the line. Granger caught his breath as he recognized the battleship. She was the Généreux, the same ship that had captured Leander. The same ship he’d spent time aboard as a prisoner of war.

“There’s another sail beyond them, my lord,” the lookout said. Granger trained his glass beyond the French ships, and saw the topsails of a frigate. An English frigate.

“That is one of our frigates, I’m thinking,” Granger said.

“You’re right, begging your pardon my lord,” the lookout said. “I think she’s the Success.”

Granger handed the man a guinea from his purse. “That was a good sighting.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the man said, amazed. Granger then closed the glass, grabbed a backstay, and glided down to the quarterdeck.

“That was quite acrobatic, my lord,” Berry said in annoyance.

“I have news that will be of special interest to you, Sir Edward,” Granger said. “That is a French convoy. There are three transports and three corvettes, but the flagship is Généreux.”

Nelson grinned in delight. “She escaped me at the Nile, but she will not escape me this time.”

“I don’t understand,” Daventry said.

“Two French ships of the line survived the Battle of the Nile,” Granger explained. “This one, the Généreux, is the one that unfortunately captured Captain Berry and me when we were attempting to return to England.”

“I hope Lejoille is aboard so I can return his hospitality,” Berry growled.

“If he is, that is exactly what we should do,” Granger said firmly. He would tolerate no mistreatment of Captain Lejoille, who had treated Granger quite well. He had been less courteous with Berry.

“We will indeed,” Nelson said. “The only other ship left after Généreux is Guillaum Tell, and she is in Malta. When we finally take this island, we will take her as well.”

“And then you will have destroyed the entire French Mediterranean fleet, my lord,” Berry said to Nelson with admiration.

“There is a frigate beyond them,” Granger said hastily, since that was important news. “The lookout thinks she is Success.”

“She should be within signaling range soon, my lord,” Berry said.

“We appear to be gaining on them slowly,” Daventry noted. He was right, but it was odd that he would be the one to notice it since he wasn’t a sailor.

“Too damn slowly,” Nelson growled. He looked at the ships around him, those who were fast enough to be leading this charge. Foudroyant was accompanied by Northumberland and Valiant. “Granger, could Valiant fore-reach on us?”

Granger looked at his ship, admiring the way Weston had trimmed her sails. He took into consideration the light winds and calm seas, then answered his admiral. “I think it is unlikely, sir.”

“But she is a frigate, my lord,” Berry said, as if trying to taunt Granger about the deficiencies of his ship.

“And she was once a ship of the line,” Granger reminded him. “Valiant is not terribly fast or maneuverable in seas like these. She excels in rougher weather.”

“Indeed?” Nelson asked, always interested in the sailing attributes of individual ships.

“Yes, sir,” Granger said. He explained her encounter with the Spanish squadron, when he was convoying St. Vincent back to England, to emphasize his point.

“Well, it is unfortunate a storm is not brewing,” Nelson said jovially. “But she won’t escape us.”

“My lord, Success is showing her number,” Perkins said.

“My lord, the convoy appears to be separating,” a lieutenant said.

“The corvettes and the transports are heading away, out to sea,” Nelson said. “What is Généreux doing?”

Granger sized up the situation quickly. “She is giving the convoy time to escape, and she is making it difficult for Alexander to get within range.” The French had spotted Success, and the French admiral had decided to give Nelson a choice. He could either direct Success to slow down Généreux and let the convoy go, or he could attack the convoy and risk allowing Généreux to escape. Granger knew that for Nelson, there was only one decision. Besides, the rest of the fleet under Lord Keith was guarding the entrance to Valetta, so it was unlikely that the transports would be able to sneak past them.

“Signal for Success to harass the Généreux,” Nelson ordered. That was a bold move. Success was a small frigate, a 32-gunner with 12-pounders for her main battery. She’d been built during the last war, and was shorter and slower than modern frigates. One broadside from Généreux would turn her into a wreck.

“Who is the captain of Success?” Granger asked.

“Captain Peard, my lord,” Perkins responded. Peard was a Cornishman from a naval family. Granger had met him a few times, and he seemed to be a good officer.

They watched from Foudroyant’s quarterdeck as one of the transports was captured, but the biggest event was Peard’s battle with Généreux. Peard maneuvered Success deftly so she was astern of Généreux and fired a broadside into her stern. “Marvelous!” Nelson exclaimed in glee.

Watching Success battle Généreux reminded Granger of his own duel with the Florial when he commanded Belvidera. He watched, impressed, as Peard deftly turned his ship about and poured his other broadside into Généreux. Peard was using Success’ biggest advantage. As a small frigate, she was very maneuverable. He bore away from Généreux before her massive broadsides could retaliate, then he turned back to chase after Généreux, much as a hound would chase after a fox. “I do not think I have ever seen a frigate handled against a ship of the line with so much skill,” Granger said.

“I think that, when this is over, if you tell that to Captain Peard, he will be more flattered by that than any prize money he receives,” Nelson said.

“Thank you, sir, but I hardly think my opinion can stand in the balance against guineas,” Granger said, making Nelson chuckle.

“With your permission, sir, we will prepare for action,” Berry said to Nelson.

“Signal the others as well,” Nelson said.

“All ships have acknowledged, my lord,” Perkins said. Valiant was the only ship that hadn’t cleared for action already. Granger smiled when he heard Treadway’s drummers pounding out ‘Hearts of Oak’ and thought of Winkler and the chaos he’d have to endure after having everything thrown into the hold in a precipitate fashion.

By the time that was accomplished, they were much closer. They could see the scars Peard’s work had wrought on Généreux. Her bowchaser pounded away at Généreux, and she maneuvered to deliver her broadside into the French battleship yet again. Only the French were ready for her this time, and using their jib boom to accelerate their turn, they brought Généreux on a course parallel to Success. Granger watched, silently horrified, as Généreux loosed her broadside at the small frigate. That first broadside, so carefully prepared and probably double-shotted, blasted into Success. In typical French style, they’d aimed at the rigging, and that single broadside left Success a drifting wreck. Granger remembered his own encounter with Florial, and how he’d been on the receiving end of such a cannonade. It was a fearsome thing. “Warm work,” Nelson commented.

“Indeed, sir,” Granger agreed. “Captain Peard has sacrificed his rigging so we may catch Généreux.”

“And catch her we will,” Nelson said. “Signal Success to discontinue the action.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Perkins said. They watched as Success drifted toward them, but she had done her job, and there was scant chance of Généreux escaping from them now.

Valiant was a bit astern of Foudroyant, and to leeward of her, so with Success drifting out of action, Valiant was the ship to pass closest to the battered frigate. Granger smiled broadly as his crew mounted the rigging and cheered themselves hoarse for their brave compatriots. “Your men appear to be out of control, my lord,” Berry said.

“Rather, they are so taken with the bravery of their fellow sailors, they are wont to express it,” Granger said drily. He noticed Daventry standing there stoically, but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he repressed his laughter. Granger turned his attention to Nelson. “My lord, with your permission, I will instruct Valiant to assist Success.”

“I think we can tackle Généreux on our own,” Nelson said with a smile. “Help Peard.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said. He took the speaking trumpet and went up on Foudroyant’s poop deck. He shouted over the water, and that brought Weston forward to hear him. “Mr. Weston, you will assist Success.”

“Aye aye, my lord,” Weston acknowledged.

“You may tap into our stores to provide for her rigging,” Granger augmented. Weston waved his assent then eased Valiant out of the line and hove to next to Success, with her boats in the water, ready to lend a hand.

It was not until 4:30 that Foudroyant came within range of Généreux. “Captain, you may commence firing. Single shots,” Nelson said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Berry said. Granger smiled at Nelson’s humanity. The French had already taken a pounding from Success, and they were faced with a battle against two British battleships. Either Foudroyant or Northumberland alone was more than enough to beat her, at least in Granger’s mind, but there was really no hope for an already-damaged Généreux against both of them.

After Foudroyant’s second shot, Généreux fired her broadside, and then lowered her colors. “Is that not dishonorable, to fire your guns then to surrender?” Daventry asked.

“It is, rather, just the opposite,” Granger explained. “If she would have surrendered without firing a shot, it would be seen as an act of cowardice.” Daventry nodded, while Nelson looked on indulgently.

“Granger, you and Macclesfield can go secure our prize.” Berry fumed at being excluded, too petty to realize that Nelson was in essence giving Macclesfield the command of the prize, a distinct honor to Berry.

“Aye aye, sir,” Granger said.

“Order the squadron to heave to,” Nelson said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Perkins said. Granger left them behind and followed Macclesfield into Foudroyant’s launch, which was filled with seamen and marines, to take possession of the French ship.

They pulled up to Généreux and hooked onto her chains. “A bit different than your last arrival, my lord,” Macclesfield said.

“I prefer this way,” Granger said with a smile. Macclesfield did not smile back at him. He was evidently allowed no mirth in his life. Berry had trained him well. Granger preceded him up the side of Généreux and pulled himself through her entry port.

“I am Captain Renaudin, and I surrender my vessel to you,” the man in front of him said, in French. He was an older man, probably 40 years old, and had a weather-beaten face that told of his years of service at sea. He made to hand his sword to Granger, that time honored symbol of surrender.

“I am Captain Viscount Granger, of His Britannic Majesty’s ship Valiant, and this is Lieutenant Macclesfield, from His Britannic Majesty’s ship Foudroyant,” Granger said in French. “As long as you will not use it to cause mischief, it would please me if you would keep your sword.”

“I must thank you, my lord,” Renaudin said with a slight smile.

“Lieutenant Macclesfield will assume temporary command,” Granger said in French, then in English. Renaudin nodded, spat orders to his officers. Macclesfield and his men immediately set to work to deal with the prisoners, and to get Généreux under way.

“Captain Lejoille is no longer in command?” Granger asked.

“Sadly, my lord, he is not. He was killed in action off Brindisi,” Renaudin said.

“That is indeed a shame,” Granger said. He had grown to like the French captain during his time aboard this ship.

“Admiral Perrée was in command of our convoy. He was wounded, and has been taken below,” Renaudin said.

“Mr. Macclesfield, while you make arrangements to get this ship under sail, I will go meet with the admiral,” Granger said.

“Aye aye, my lord,” Macclesfield responded. Granger headed below decks, stopping to greet some of the French sailors and officers whom he remembered from his time aboard Généreux. Everyone was friendly, so much that it almost seemed as if he were a visitor and not a captor. They would certainly feel more like prisoners if they were dealing with Berry, Granger thought ruefully. He guessed that Macclesfield would not be much of an improvement.

He was led into the sick bay and up to a cot where the French admiral lay. He still had his uniform coat on, oddly enough, but he was stripped below the waist. There were bandages around the remnants of one of his legs, which must have been blown off, and also around his head, covering his left eye.

“Sir, I am Captain Lord Granger,” Granger said in French.

“You are much renowned,” he said, and seemed to cringe in pain as he spoke.

“Thank you, sir,” Granger said. He sat next to him gently. “I will make sure you have good medical care.”

“It will not matter for me. Please, just see to my men.”

“They will be taken care of,” Granger promised.

“Your time aboard this ship was much talked about,” he said. “I will not live to see tomorrow, but I die comfortable, knowing you are watching out for my people.”

“I will do that,” Granger promised. He left the admiral and returned to the deck, to find the ship putting herself to rights.

“The admiral has signaled us to rendezvous with the fleet, my lord,” Macclesfield said. Granger looked over to where Valiant and Success were locked together, working to make Success seaworthy again. His proper duty was to his ship, and he should return there forthwith. But he looked around this ship he knew so well, and at these sailors who had treated him well, and decided to remain aboard until ordered otherwise. Weston would watch after Valiant. Granger would honor his pledge to the French admiral and watch after the Frenchmen.

“Lay in a course to follow Foudroyant, Mr. Macclesfield,” Granger said. He saw a twinge of annoyance in Macclesfield’s expression, since Granger clearly intended to stay aboard.

“Aye aye, my lord,” he said.

“Captain Renaudin,” Granger called.

“My lord?”

“Your mission to relieve the beleaguered defenders of Malta was not a success, but nobly sacrificing your ship to save the rest of the convoy is commendable.”

“I must thank you, my lord,” he said, impressed at such praise from this venerated sailor. “I fear that even if we had arrived at Malta, we would not have helped them.”

“I do not understand,” Granger said.

“The idiots in the government sent out stores to stave off starvation, and then they included 3000 extra troops as reinforcements,” he said. Granger hid his surprise.

“It would seem counter-productive to bring additional mouths to feed along with stores,” Granger noted.

Renaudin shook his head in frustration. “That is what happens when politicians pretend to be warriors.”

“I suspect that in my country, we could cite similar examples of folly,” Granger said with a smile. While Mr. Pitt was firmly enshrined in his position as Prime Minister and seemed unassailable, there was no shortage of criticism as to how he had conducted the war. “Perhaps you can help Lieutenant Macclesfield arrange for dinner for our men?”

“Of course, my lord,” Renaudin said.

Granger explained that in English to Macclesfield, who was more than happy to leave things such as cooking arrangements to Renaudin’s attention. “I will leave you to attend to your men.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Renaudin said.

Macclesfield appeared as if he wanted to say something, then obviously caved in to the temptation. “My lord, you are quite courteous to the French, just as you were rumored to be.”

That meant Berry had been telling stories of how Granger had dealt with Lejoille aboard this very ship, and had probably made it seem as if Granger had been so friendly as to be disloyal. “I have found that when one is fortunate enough to capture one’s enemy, if one is then benevolent and honorable, it will ultimately serve him well.”

“I don’t understand, my lord,” Macclesfield said.

“We could have come aboard and been quite confrontational,” Granger said. “If we had, we would not know that we had averted an attempt to land an additional 3000 men on Malta, and we would have to rummage around for our own dinner.”

Macclesfield smiled. “I see your point, my lord.”

“I am going below,” Granger said, more to give Macclesfield a chance to handle the ship on his own. He went into the familiar great cabin and rummaged through the papers on Perrée’s desk. He found nothing of substance there, nor did he expect to.

“My lord,” a midshipman said, interrupting him. “Mr. Macclesfield’s respects, and we have sighted Queen Charlotte.”

“Very well,” Granger said. “I will call on Admiral Perrée, and then I will be on deck shortly.”

“Aye aye, my lord.”

Granger went below to see the wounded French admiral. He was considerably worse off than when Granger had first seen him.

“Admiral, your men are being cared for,” Granger said soothingly, in French. “Dinner is being served as we speak.”

“Thank you,” Perrée said, and then he died. Granger held his hand for a few seconds, feeling the life drain out of the man, then stood up and stoically returned to the quarterdeck.

“Captain Renaudin,” Granger said.

“My lord?”

“Admiral Perrée has died just this minute,” Granger said.

Renaudin swallowed down his grief. “Thank you, my lord.”

“You may inform your officers and men, and please offer my condolences on the loss of such a brave and honorable seaman.”

“I will do that, my lord,” he said.

Granger explained what had happened to Macclesfield, only to be interrupted by a summons to attend Lord Keith aboard Queen Charlotte.