Page 45 of Unlikely Heroes
“They’re long aboard theMercury, too,” he said. “To think some people believe we like war in the Royal Navy.”
“They don’t live in Portsmouth, do they?”
Vice-Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson spent the next afternoon at St. Brendan’s, shown around by Headmaster Croker. They caught up with Able and Harry Ferrier and the Gunwharf Rats in the stone pool beside and behind the monastery, most of them nearly naked and balancing on the floating platforms, taking sextant readings. Others arranged ballast on additional platforms, with advice from Master Ferrier standing beside the pool.
Able had joined the half-naked crew. He saluted the admiral, who laughed and saluted back. Able watched as the little man looked closer at the platform’s name. “HMSFloaty?” he asked.
“Admiral, my son Ben named the platform and christened it with a pint of milk,” Able said.
“Benjamin Belvedere Six, if I recall Sir B told me once?” His eyes, so lively, turned serious. “I miss that man.”
“We all do, admiral,” Able said, thinking how much Sir B would enjoy sharing the deck of HMSFloaty. “Care to join us, sir?”
“Must I strip down, too?”
“No, sir. We’ll take you as you are.”
Admiral Nelson removed his bicorn and hanger and took a leap, balancing himself with some agility on the deck ofFloaty. “As you were, men,” he said, and watched as the now-terrified Rats froze. “I mean it,” Nelson said, enjoying himself hugely, if his smile was any indication. “Plot your courses.”
“Catching the last of the August sun, Master Six?” Nelson asked as he stood beside Able on the slightly elevated box dubbed the quarterdeck.
“Aye, admiral,” Able said. “Breathing in great lungsful of Portsmouth at low tide, too.”
Nelson chuckled. He indicated the Rats with a nod. “How are their skills with the sextant?”
“Better and better, sir. No one in the last few weeks has plotted theFloatyupriver in the Amazon.”
Nelson pointed to the other platform. “HMSPlatform?” he asked.
“No, sir. Ben thought that should be theHMS Floaty Boaty,” Able said, wondering what the exalted admiral standing beside a man wearing only his small clothes was thinking of all this nonsense.
Admiral Nelson was silent in that self-contained way of his, hand behind his back, minding his own thoughts. Only a few weeks ago south of Cape Finisterre, Able had seen him in much the same pose on the far more exalted deck of HMSVictory, as he looked over an entire fleet.
Am I looking at greatness? Able asked himself.I do believe he regards my Rats with the same effort he expends on well-trained foretopmen, gunners, Marines, and able seamen. He knew better than to interrupt.
One of the younger Rats onFloaty Boatystepped too close to the edge as he rearranged the ballast and fell into the stone pool. Able felt no alarm. No one entered this pool without proficiency in swimming. Still… His heart swelled with pride as nearly everyone onFloaty Boatywent into the pool after their mate, handing him out to the lad who by designation remained topside, ready to receive him. In a moment they were back at work.
“They look out for each other,” Admiral Nelson said. “Brilliant.”
“It’s what workhouse lads do,” Able said. “None of us would have survived without the others, I among them.”
“Master Six, you are to be commended,” Nelson said. “You and your doughty crew are training a generation of navigators.” He looked around. “And I imagine others, too.”
“We have one lad – our surgeon on theMercury– who is at Haslar and should be in medical school in a year or two, Admiral Nelson.” He pointed to Smitty, who was helping one of the younger Rats with his sextant. “That tall one will be a fine sailing master soon. He gave impeccable commands at Finisterre.” He thought about Nick, who was arranging ballast with his usual flair on theFloaty Boaty. “That one with the red scarf around his neck would be an excellent secretary. Not all will be navigators.”
“A secretary, you say? Give me his name at the banquet tonight, if you would, Master Six.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Let’s go ashore.”
“Aye, sir.”
While Nelson regained his hat and hanger, Able wrapped a towel around his middle. “Walk with me a moment, Master.”
They walked along the sea wall, an incongruous pair: the small man so impeccable, the tall one wearing a towel and a bosun’s whistle.
“I have sent a message to Captain Lapenotiere of the HMSPickle, another of my dispatch ships, a schooner. You have seen thePickle?”
