Free Ramage At Trafalgar by Dudley Pope

time to meet a burly figure with curly hair and the ruddy complexion of a farmer, but an incongruous aquiline nose and sun-tanned features fitted well with the gold-trimmed uniform of a post-captain whose two epaulets showed he had more than three years’ seniority.
    Ramage did not know him but guessed who he was just as the man, hat tucked under his arm, said apologetically with the trace of a soft Irish accent: “Henry Blackwood. I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I’ve a message from His Lordship – from Lord Nelson, I mean.”
    Ramage noticed the badly creased uniform, grubby stock and red-rimmed eyes: Blackwood had been travelling in a post-chaise for hours and he had come from a sunny climate. And the thin white lines of salt in the creases of his high boots showed he had not had time to change since he was at sea.
    Blackwood, Ramage then remembered (wasn’t he said to be the son of an Irish peeress and an English baronet?), had served for a long time with Lord Nelson in the Mediterranean, and was commanding the Penelope frigate when he met a French ship of the line, the 86-gun Guillaume Tell , and set about her with his puny thirty-six guns with such spirit that he disabled her long enough for two of Nelson’s ships of the line to come up and engage her. After fighting for several hours she surrendered – and it was discovered that she was bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Decrès, now Bonaparte’s Minister of Marine.
    Now, if Ramage’s memory served him, Blackwood was commanding the frigate Euryalus . And at that moment Ramage realized how weary the man must be.
    “Do sit down. Have you eaten recently? A hot drink?”
    Blackwood shook his head but sat down thankfully, obviously painfully stiff. “I’m a little weary, so forgive me if I don’t make much sense: I arrived in Lymington village late last evening, after losing the wind at the back of the Wight and having to be rowed in. I managed to post up to Town – I kept those horses at a good gallop – and reached Lord Nelson at Merton at five o’clock this morning, and after giving him the news, posted on to the Admiralty to tell Lord Barham.”
    The man was almost asleep – certainly dazed with weariness. “What news?” Ramage asked gently.
    “Sorry, I was thinking of Lord Nelson’s message for you. What happened was, we understood the Combined Fleet was in Ferrol and Coruña – they’d bolted there when His Lordship chased ’em back across the Atlantic. But I was off Cape St Vincent with the Euryalus when I suddenly met them all at sea, steering south, either for Cadiz – most likely – or the Strait.
    “I guessed they were making for Cadiz to join the rest of their brethren, so I chased them long enough to be sure. Then I steered for the Channel to raise the alarm. I met Rear-Admiral Calder with eighteen line-of-battle ships and warned him, and while he went south after the enemy I carried on for the Channel. Took me ten dam’ days with contrary winds before I got up as far as the Isle of Wight and lost the wind altogether.
    “I had myself rowed ashore in the dark – and a wretched muddy place Lymington creek is, I can assure you – and managed to hire a ’chaise to London: it’s going to cost Their Lordships £15 9 s . – if they agree to pay the charge.”
    He rubbed his eyes. “Shake me if I fall asleep on you: the drumming of the hoofs and the clatter of the wheels are still in my head. Anyway, I reached Merton and told His Lordship, and then went on to raise the alarm at the Admiralty. Lord Barham may be well over eighty years old, but he wakes up a deal faster than I do!
    “Now we get to Lord Nelson’s message (sorry, I had to tell you the rest so it makes sense). Before I left him at Merton – he decided to come up to the Admiralty in his own carriage with Lady Hamilton – he gave me your address and told me to call as soon as I’d finished at the Admiralty. The message is simply that His Lordship will be sailing in