1805
hammocks. He nodded to the marine sentry at
attention by his door and entered the cabin. Rogers followed and both
men sat at the table which was being hurriedly laid by an irritated
Mullender.
    'You're early this morning, sir,' grumbled the steward, with
the familiar licence allowed to intimate servants.
    'No, Mullender, you are late… Sit down, Sam, and let
us eat. The morning's chill has made me damned hungry.'
    'Thank you. You do intend to attack those craft, don't you?'
    'Of course. When I've had some breakfast.' He smiled at Rogers
who once again looked at though he had been drinking heavily the night
before. 'D'you remember when we were in the
Virago
together we were attacked off the Sunk by a pair of luggers?'
    'Aye…'
    'And we beat 'em off. Sank one of them if I remember right.
The other…'
    'Got away,' interrupted Rogers.
    'For which you have never forgiven me… ah, thank
you, Mullender. Well I hope this morning to rectify the matter. Let's
creep up and take that little brig. She'd make a decent prize, mmm?'
    'By God, I'll drink to that!' Comprehension dawned in Rogers's
eyes.
    'I thought you might, Sam, I thought you might. But I want
those bateaux as well.'
    They attacked the skillygolee enthusiastically, encouraged by
the smell of bacon coming from the pantry where Mullender was still
muttering, each occupied with their private thoughts. Rogers considered
a naval officer a fool if he did not risk everything to make
prize-money. Since he had never had the chief command of a ship, he
thought himself very hard done by over the matter. The event to which
Drinkwater had alluded was a case in point. Both knew that they had
been fortunate to escape capture when they were engaged by a pair of
lugger privateers off Orfordness when on their way to Copenhagen. But
whereas Drinkwater appreciated his escape, Rogers regretted they had
not made a capture, even though the odds against success had been high.
The
Virago
had been a lumbering old bomb-vessel
whose longest-range guns were in her stern, an acknowledgement that an
enemy attack would almost certainly be from astern! But a pretty little
brig-corvette brought under the guns of the
Antigone
would be an entirely different story. With such an overwhelming
superiority Drinkwater would not hesitate to attack and the outcome was
a foregone conclusion. Nevertheless Rogers found himself hoping the
brig would have a large crew, so that he might distinguish himself and
perhaps gain a mention in
The Gazette
.
    Drinkwater's thoughts, on the other hand, were only partially
concerned with the brig. It was the other vessels he was thinking of.
They were five leagues south-east of Pointe de Barfleur, on the
easternmost point of the Contentin Pensinsula. The convoy of invasion
craft were on passage across the Baie de la Seine bound for their
rendezvous at Le Havre. It was here that the French were assembling
vessels built further west, prior to dispersing them along the Pas de
Calais, at Etaples, Boulogne, Wimereux and Ambleteuse, in readiness for
the embarkation of the army destined to conquer Great Britain and make
the French people masters of the world.
    Perhaps Drinkwater's experiences of the French differed from
those of his colleagues who were apt to ridicule the possibility of
ultimate French victory; perhaps Captain D'Auvergne had alerted him to
the reality of a French invasion; but from whatever cause he did not
share his first lieutenant's unconditional enthusiasm. What Rogers saw
as a possible brawl which should end to their advantage, Drinkwater saw
as a matter of simple necessity. It was up to him to destroy in detail
before the French were able to overwhelm in force. There had been much
foolish talk, and even more foolish assertions in the newspapers, of
the impracticality of the invasion barges. There had been mention of
preposterous notions of attack by balloon, of great barges driven by
windmills, even some crackpot ideas of under-water boats which had had
knowledgeable

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