Page 50 of Unlikely Heroes
Captain Ogilvie leant a hand and in a thrice, the vessels were bound together, floating as near as could be, considering a difference in size that made the decks unequal. A plank ended that problem.
“I’ll take the wheel, Able,” Ogilvie said. “Your crew should see thePickle.”
“Come, crew, let’s pay a visit,” Able said. He ushered the Gunwharf Rats up and over the plank. To his inward delight, thePickle’s bosun even twittered a welcome on his pipe. Able couldn’t help smiling to see his St. Brendan boys stand a little taller.
He didn’t know Captain Lapenotiere, but the serious-looking man with thinning hair appeared to be the only officer on board. He gave a slight bow, then held out his hand.
“Welcome aboard, Captain Six, is it?” he asked. “I’ve been told to expect a visit.”
“Captain Six, indeed, Captain Lapenotiere,” Able said. He decided quickly that he liked being called captain. He gestured to his crew, standing tall as they could. It touched his heart to see how proud his fellow rats and bastards looked, eyes ahead and serious. “We’re from St. Brendan the Navigator School, serving in the fleet as requested and required.”
Lapenotiere nodded. He relaxed and nodded to a crew member in nondescript uniform. “Master Johnson, my gunny, will show your lads around thePickle. Let me invite you to my miniscule cabin for a drink.”
Smitty whispered to Able. “Captain, we would like to know the Pickle’s origin,” Able said. “They’ve never seen a schooner.”
“She’s Bermuda-built, on American lines,” Captain Lapenotiere said promptly, as if he heard that question often, and this one: “And no, I have no idea why she is called thePickle.” The boys chuckled, and Able followed the captain below deck.
“Sir, it’s a regular palace, compared tomybelow deck accommodations,” Able said as he seated himself in Lapenotiere’s cramped space. “We share six berths and a galley in theMercury. Luckily, only Captain Ogilvie snores.”
“Just John, please,” Lapenotiere. He poured something amber and looking highly contraband into a mostly clean glass. “Able Six, I believe?”
“Yes, indeed,” Able said and took a sip. “I can’t even remember my last madeira.” (Well, he did. It was in Lisbon on April 22, 1795.) He definitely couldn’t recall having been treated so well by Admiral Calder inhisprivate cabin.
“Madeira is one of the perks along these shores,” John said, tapping his own glass. “Do you have a message for me?”
“Admiral Nelson specifically requested that we look for thePickle, as we sail with dispatches for Admiral Cuthbert,” Able said. “He told me that if theMercuryhappened to be in attendance during the fleet action which he thinks is imminent, I might consider theMercuryas operating atyourbehest.”
John Lapenotiere continued to impress him. “Possibly. From the way your helmsman so efficiently heeled the yacht toward us, and from what I know of your own abilities – word gets around the fleet – all I ask for is that you note my relative position, and be prepared to repeat any messages that you see, in the heat of battle. I trust you have a reliable signalman?”
Able smiled inside to think of Avon Marsh, eleven years old and brilliant with code. “The very best, I suspect.”
“Keep him safe then. That’s all the advice you need.” He stood up. “Drink it down, Able. I am certain you already know the principal rule of dispatch vessels: We move fast.”
“Aye, we do.” Able downed his madeira. “That possible fleet action? Coming soon, in your opinion?”
“I doubt Admiral Nelson will wait a moment.” He held out his hand again. “Talleyho and good hunting to theMercury. We’ll meet soon enough.”
Chapter Twenty-two
They found theRoyal Sovereignand its numerous minions at Gibraltar with no difficulty, after a breath-taking approach to Tarifa by nightfall to drop off Captain Ogilvie.
The night was dark, and theMercuryeven darker. To Whitticombe’s real dismay, Able helped the Rats drape rotten old fishing nets around the ship’s sides. “Oh sir,” he said softly, when Able had them toss long-brewed tea on the spanking white sails, anything to turn theMercurydrab and forgettable. Even Tots groaned out loud when Able said the stains would have to remain, as long as they sailed so close to Spain or France in dangerous waters. They would stow the fishing nets below, once they left the shore.
Near midnight with the moon a mere sliver, theMercuryheeled close into shore, helmed this time by Able with Captain Ogilvie by his side, ever watchful. Angus had changed from his uniform to the sloppy, nondescript cape and a battered hat that smelled as bad as they looked. His filthy trousers defied comment from the Rats, who studiously tried to stay upwind.
Ogilvie seemed in a good mood to Able, whistling “Lilliburlero” in slow march time. Maybe this was the moment to express a wish – not that anything would come of it. Able waited for some opinion from his spectral confidantes, but nothing. Lately, it had been more nothing than even idle chatter. It was as if even Euclid waited for him to act. Maybe the others were bothering someone else. He hoped it wasn’t Ben.
“I know I mentioned my near-encounter at Cape Finisterre with the man I think is my father,” Able said, unwilling to sound hesitant, but there you are – hewashesitant, especially around Captain Ogilvie, a man with a well-known sharp tongue.
“You did. You’ve been thinking about him a lot,” Ogilvie said, and he didn’t sound unkind. “Able, you think about a lot of things at once, don’t you?”
“Aye. It’s a burden,” he said simply. “All I know I learned from the captain of theFirme, who said that the Count of Quintanar was safely backal buque insignia del Admirante Gravina.”
Angus stared at him, then chuckled. “Able, in English, please.”
Grateful for darkness, Able felt his face grow hot.Good Lord, I am within striking distance of Spain and I speak Spanish? I had better pay attention,he thought, embarrassed. “He returned to Admiral Gravina’s flagship,” he muttered. Since he had just made a fool of himself, why not finish the job? “I want to see him. I want to find my father. I cannot leave this ship because it is my command, or I would try.”
Ogilvie nodded. “I wish you could. What say you if I snoop around among the Spanish fleet? You know, see what I can learn about the count.”
