Any Approaching Enemy A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars

ONE May 19, 1798 South of Cape Sicie, Gulf of Lion The Mediterranean EMERALD is signaling again, sir," lieutenant jacob Talmage reported with a heavy emphasis on the word "again." Talmage was the newly appointed first lieutenant to His Majesty's frigate Louisa, and at thirty-five was almost ten years older than her captain. "Sir, it's the second time. It says--" "I know what it says, Mr. Talmage," Charles Edgemont interrupted. He stood by the weather rail of his quarterdeck with a long glass held up to one eye, the other screwed shut. He didn't need the telescope to read Emerald's signal flags, as she was only a mile and a half to the north. It was the surface of the sea beyond the larger British frigate that held his attention. "Captain Pigott wants us to add more sail," he said to prove that he'd seen the signal. He lowered the glass and turned toward the lieutenant. "He thinks we're lagging behind." "Shall I give the orders, sir?" Talmage asked. "Not yet, if you please. However, you may hoist the acknowledge." He glanced again at Emerald and her signal flags, numbers three-seven-four, Increase sail in conformity to weather. Pigott was flying all his plain sail from courses to royals and a full set of jibs. Louisa carried only topsails and topgallants in addition to her jib and mizzen. The wind was moderate enough for more canvas; the sky was a low dull gray, somewhat darker to the north. He'd checked the barometer in his cabin a quarter hour before and found it falling. The sea had a brisk chop, stirred by a gusting breeze, with just a hint of underlying swells, but its surface seemed uneven in the distance, unsettled. Add to that his ankle ached, a reminder of an earlier injury that didn't usually bother him. Something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The air seemed . . . hollow. A sharp bang echoed across the water. "Sir, she's fired a gun," Talmage said, clearly perturbed at Charles's inaction. The single cannon firing from Emerald was to emphasize the order to increase sail and to show Pigott's displeasure. "All right," Charles said, irritated at Pigott for his impatience, irritated at Talmage for hectoring him, and irritated at himself for not being able to make up his mind. "Send the men into the rigging." "Thank you, sir," Talmage said with both relief and exasperation in his voice. "Just send them onto the yards, Mr. Talmage. That should please Pigott for the moment. Don't have them bend on any additional canvas just yet." "But sir, you have been ordered--" "I know my duty, both to Pigott and the king, thank you," Charles snapped, his patience wearing. "See to it, please." To forestall any further debate, he turned away to survey the rest of the small squadron spread out over the sea. They were seven ships in all, under the command of Horatio Nelson. The squadron constituted the first naval force the Admiralty had ordered into the Mediterranean in almost two years. Three were two-decker, seventy-four-gun ships of the line: Orion, Alexander, and Nelson's own flagship, Vanguard. These were hull down well to the south, and Charles could just see their masts in the distance. Captain John Pigott of Emerald, a thirty-six-gun, eighteen-pounder frigate, was the senior captain among the three frigates present and thus in command when they were detached. The others were the handsome thirty-two-gun twelve-pounder Terpsichore, commanded by Captain Edward Bedford, and Charles's Louisa, the smallest, rated at twenty-eight guns. Charles was the least senior captain of the three. He found Bedford both competentWorrall, Jay is the author of 'Any Approaching Enemy A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars' with ISBN 9781400063062 and ISBN 140006306X.