Any Approaching Enemy: A Novel of the Napoleonic Wars by Jay Worrall Page A

put back before the mast for this, Bedford,” he snarled.
    “Just a moment,” Charles said, stepping forward. “I think you should listen to what we have to say.”
    “You’re in on this, too?” Pigott said in a voice intended to intimidate. “I should have thought you were in enough trouble already. This borders on mutiny, don’t you agree, Commander Bevan?”
    “No, sir, I do not,” Bevan answered.
    “We wish only to provide you with the benefit of our advice,” Charles asserted, trying to sound conciliatory. “It is our duty to do so.”
    “It’s only a suggestion, sir,” Bevan offered. “For your consideration. We feel it wouldn’t look good if Admiral St. Vincent doesn’t agree with the course of action you’ve chosen, especially if he discovers that each of your subordinate officers tried to talk you out of it.”
    Pigott paused with an air of indulgent sarcasm. “All right, I’ll listen,” he said grudgingly, “but be quick about it.”
    “It is quite possible,” Bedford said with a touch of anger in his voice, “that Nelson and the others have gone on to Toulon and are at this moment waiting for us there.” He held up his hands to forestall Pigott’s objection. “I didn’t say it was likely or certain,” he emphasized, “but possible.”
    “Of course it’s possible,” Pigott answered. “Anything’s possible. But in my opinion—”
    “Sir,” Charles interjected, “it’s not a question of whether they went here or they went there. The question that will be asked is what decisions you made and how many possible eventualities you took into account. For all we know, Nelson decided to take his seventy-fours to Constantinople on a whim. But it is at least as likely that the squadron went to Toulon as that it returned to Gibraltar. The point is,” he said significantly, “that you would be able to report to Lord St. Vincent that you have covered every probability.”
    Pigott’s eyes shifted to the right and then to the left as he considered this. “All right,” he said after a moment. “All right, I will admit to finding some merit in your argument. I will allow one of you to sail for Toulon. But if there are no ships of the squadron present, you must return direct to Gibraltar.”
    “I would be pleased to go,” Bedford offered immediately.
    Pigott looked at him with a certain satisfaction. “No,” he said. “I’ll send
Louisa,
she’s expendable.”
    Charles shrugged off the implied insult. There was one additional thing he wanted, but he wasn’t sure how to go about asking for it. He decided to try flattery. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I think you’ve made a wise decision. Naturally, I will require the services of Commander Bevan and his brig.”
    “Why is that?” Pigott asked suspiciously.
    “I’m sure you’ve anticipated this, sir,” Charles said in his most pleasant tone. “In the event any of the squadron are encountered, they will require someone to carry dispatches back to the fleet.
Pylades
is well suited for that kind of task.”
    Pigott reluctantly nodded his agreement, evidently not much caring what Bevan did. “But I warn you: There will be no excursions. You’re to return straight to Gibraltar if there are no British warships present.”
    “Of course, sir,” Charles answered agreeably. “We will return immediately in the event there is no indication of Nelson’s whereabouts. You have my word.”
    Bedford waited in his gig while Charles and then Bevan climbed from Emerald’s side steps into their own craft. “Fucking idiot,” he muttered to no one in particular. To Charles, he said, “Ye be the lucky one. Get under way before he changes his mind.”
    “The moment I set foot on my deck,” Charles answered. “And thank you, sir.”
    Bedford touched his hat. “I wish you luck and Godspeed,” he said, then nodded to his coxswain.
    Daniel Bevan lingered for just a moment, looking curiously across at Charles. “Constantinople?” he