Страница 11 из 72
His body gave a spasmodic twitch of a
He shrugged his shoulders and was once again thankful that he was the only passenger in the coach. The sighs and shrugs and grunts that he had been giving as he struggled to sort out his thoughts would have alarmed even the most phlegmatic traveller - and probably reduced a woman to hysteria.
He dozed off but was awoken almost immediately by shouting and the carriage coming to a stop. Thinking it might be a highwayman he looked sleepily through the window and saw they were on the high ridge above Saltwood. He opened the door and scrambled out, suddenly conscious that his whole body ached because rarely-used muscles were tired from bracing him against the swaying carriage. Just along the road several men were grouped round a capsized cart: a wheel had come off, spilling a whole load of cordwood. The men had to shift the cart before clearing a pathway through the logs, and Ramage cursed at the delay: already his mouth was dry and dusty - the snack at Ashford had done little more than emphasize his hunger.
The coachman, cooling down after delivering himself of a stream of blasphemy at the delay, had retired to his seat and was holding a bottle to his lips with an assurance born of long practice. The second coachman joined him and waited patiently for his turn.
Saltwood! Ramage suddenly remembered why the name was familiar. Some six hundred years ago, four knights had slept the night in the little castle which he could just see through the trees below. Then they had ridden on to Canterbury to find the Archbishop, Thomas à Becket, and cut him down with their swords.
Daydreaming as he waited, Ramage pictured them galloping up the hill from the castle, the early sun sparkling on their light chain mail. The quartet would carefully pace their horses to pick up Stone Street, the old Roman road ru
A shrill whistle indicated that the men had cleared enough for the carriage to pass, and Ramage climbed in and sat back, feeling sleepier than if he had stood watch for a whole night. He woke with a start as the carriage suddenly swung to the right, and stared blearily out of the window to see the sun had almost set and they were now ru
As the carriage clattered down the steep hill Ramage found himself thinking more about the Romans. They would have sailed for England from France using landing places which eventually became Calais and Boulogne, Étaples and Wimereux, the very ports in which Bonaparte's invasion flotilla was now assembling.
They would have landed within a few hundred yards of where Dover now stood, pitched their tents for the night, and then marched off up Watling Street. Over the years Dover - they called it Dubris - became so important that they built a stone pharos, on top of which they burned bonfires at night, and which was still standing, the oldest lighthouse in the country. Claudius's invasion in ad 43, and William the Conqueror's in 1066 . . . Well, the country was better prepared now to resist whatever Bonaparte would attempt.
Arriving at the castle that evening, Ramage found Lord Nelson in high spirits and surrounded by young post-captains and lieutenants. This bore out all the stories he had heard about His Lordship doing everything he could to promote the careers of deserving young officers.
The Admiral's temporary office was sparse and windowless, the walls whitewashed and the only furniture a long, deal table, half a dozen chairs and two forms. The light from two lanterns was reinforced by candles stuck in the necks of empty bottles, and Ramage saw that His Lordship was bent over a chart of the Strait of Dover. He glanced up and smiled when Ramage was a
'Ah, Mr Ramage - come and meet these gentlemen!' He obviously had an affection for them: as he introduced each one, Lord Nelson made a little joke about some aspect of the man's personality. One otherwise meek and mild looking captain whose name Ramage did not recognize suddenly gave an almost Satanic grin when His Lordship said, 'He's almost as bad as you, Ramage, when it comes to stretching or even disobeying orders. Still, he's been as lucky as you have - so far.' With that the grin vanished and the captain and Ramage avoided each other's eyes: the Admiral's warning was unmistakable.
With the introductions completed, Nelson eyed the canvas pouch that Ramage was carrying. 'You've brought your notes, I hope?' When Ramage nodded, the Admiral said: 'These officers form part of my Squadron, and they'll be interested to hear what you learned from the latest issues of Le Moniteur. There's no need to discuss your orders, though,' he added quickly.
Ramage took his notes from the pouch. 'There is a pattern, sir . . .' He took a page and put it on the top. 'It seems they want us to believe they intend landing in Sussex and Essex, but not in Kent. They mention the Sussex coast in co
He handed the page to the Admiral. 'Nothing else of any consequence, sir: there's no pattern in the mention of French ports. They make no secret that their headquarters, both Navy and Army, are at Boulogne. I noticed they often publish the latest number of boats ordered to be built, but there's never a hint of the number of troops arriving or expected there, nor of the number of boats actually completed and launched.'