'Ah!'

Hearing his name the naval officer turned from the window. He was much taller than the general, his handsome features severely disfigured by a recent scar that ran upwards from the corner of his mouth into his left cheek. He made a slight bow and met General Bonaparte's appraising grey eyes.

'So, Captain, you contrived to escape from the English, eh?'

'Yes Citizen General, I arrived in Paris three weeks ago.'

'And have already married, eh?' Santhonax nodded, aware that the Corsican knew all about him. The general resumed his pacing, head sunk in thought. 'I have just come from an inspection of the Channel Ports and the arrangements in hand for an invasion of England…' he stopped abruptly in front of Santhonax. 'What are your views of the practicality of such an enterprise?'

'Impossible without complete command of the Channel: any attempt without local superiority would be doomed, Citizen General. Conditions in the Channel can change rapidly, we should have to hold it for a week at least. The British fleet, if it cannot be overwhelmed, must be dissipated by ruse and threat…'

'Exactly! That is what I have informed the Directory… but do we have the capability to achieve such a local superiority?'

'No, Citizen General.' Santhonax lowered his eyes before the penetrating stare of Bonaparte. While this young man had been trouncing the Austrians out of Italy he had been working to achieve such a combination by bringing the Dutch fleet to Brest. The attempt had been shattered by the British at Camperdown four months earlier.

'Huh!' exclaimed Bonaparte, 'then we agree at all points, Captain. That is excellent, excellent. The Army of England is to have employment in a different quarter, eh Androche?' He turned to the hussar, 'This is Androche Junot, Captain, an old friend of the Bonapartes.' The two men bowed. 'But the Army of England will lay the axe to the root of England's wealth. What is your opinion of the English, Captain?'