Page 59 of A Fierce Wind

Walking with his senior officers on the poop deck, Admiral Howe seemed unfazed by his crew falling around him and the spars and rigging rattling down on all sides.

Amazed at Howe’s composure, Freddie heard Howe order no shot was to be fired. Instead, he ordered the pilot to lay the Queen Charlotte alongside the Montagne.

After pleas from his officers to allow them to return fire, Howe agreed to fire from the main and quarter decks but insisted they hold back the rest of his guns.

“Now that’s courage,” muttered Donet. “He’s reserving his broadside for the stern of the Montagne, a strategy I approve.”

A minute later, Freddie witnessed the power of those guns trained on Villaret’s flagship as the Queen Charlotte slowly passed through the French line between the huge three-decker Montagne and an eighty-gun French ship. So close did the ships pass that the tricolor flag, waving at Montagne’s flagstaff, brushed the Queen Charlotte’s mizzen rigging.

“Good God,” Freddie gasped when the blast from the broadside tore into Villaret’s ship, catching her unprepared.

“They didn’t expect an assault from leeward,” said Donet. “Inexperience and lack of foresight.”

Surely Howe will take her now, Freddie thought. But just then, the fore-topmast of the Queen Charlotte came clattering down with a loud crash. In the confusion, the badly damaged Montagne sheered off, leaving Admiral Howe to engage with the two French ships astern of her.

A terrible battle ensued, in which the Queen Charlotte lost her main topmast. With one topmast gone and rigging and yards badly damaged, Howe’s flagship had become practically unmanageable. One of his captains sent a lieutenant to ask if Howe wanted to transfer his flag.

The admiral vehemently refused.

At the end of the battle, the French Vengeur, having fought valiantly, began to sink. She displayed the British flag in submission and called for help. Three British ships sent boats into the water to pick up survivors. They were in time to save hundreds, though hundreds more went down with the ship.

The remaining French ships veered off in all directions. The British ships did not pursue but closed around the Queen Charlotte with their prizes. Except for four ships that had been disabled in the fighting, the British fleet was ready to renew battle.

“Shouldn’t he take the French ships now?” Freddie asked Donet. “They are easy prey, shattered, dismasted and riddled with shot.”

“Oui, I would have. But Howe seems content with his six prizes. And his victory. The republicans have lost thousands of sailors and the British, I would venture, have lost hundreds.”

The firing stopped shortly after one in the afternoon. As the smoke began to clear, Freddie gazed about the deck of the great warship strewn with pieces of mast, torn rigging and shrouds and bodies of men who had served their last post. In the ocean beyond, debris from wounded ships bobbed in the waters. All around the Queen Charlotte, damaged ships like so many broken toys cast aside by a destructive giant child managed to stay afloat.

Freddie recalled Pitt’s grave warning of an attack on England’s southern coast. The Prime Minister would be pleased to learn of Howe’s victory, accepting the price in men’s lives as necessary. To the British people who had feared an invasion, the defeat of the French fleet would mean an end to that threat. Freddie had to wonder if he’d not accepted Nepean’s challenge to become England’s spy, would he have been here today serving on one of the ships in the Channel Fleet?

The admiral carefully took the ladder down to the quarterdeck and walked toward them. To Freddie, Howe looked as if he was near collapse, but his spirit remained undaunted. “Got more of a show than you expected, eh?”

“Indeed, sir,” said Freddie. “Congratulations are in order. You successfully rendered half of the French fleet the passive spectator of the destruction of the other half.”

“Your intelligence was spot on,” said Howe, “and I took full advantage.”

“We were happy to help,” said Donet with a smile, offering his hand to Howe. “’Twas a job well done, Admiral.”

Howe shook Donet’s hand. “If you’ve a mind to depart, we can signal your ship and I’ll have a boat row you out.”

Donet thanked him.

As they looked toward the boat being lowered, Freddie paused and turned back to the admiral. “What news of the grain convoy?”

“None,” said Howe with a frown.

It was then Freddie remembered Danny Barlow. “Sir, might I inquire how the HMS Orion came through the battle? A good friend’s son, Lieutenant Barlow, serves aboard that ship.”

An officer handed a list to the admiral, pointing to one entry.

“The HMS Orion sustained only minor damage to the masts and rigging,” read Howe. “So, we can hope your young Lieutenant Barlow is well and happy to have been a part of so great a victory.”

“Thank you, sir. I do hope that is the case.”

As the admiral moved away to confer with one of his officers, Donet said, “Let’s go home. Zoé will be anxious to know if you’ve managed to cheat death once more, and I, for one, miss my wife and the flowers of Guernsey.”