Page 78 of Unlikely Heroes
Just a look, he thought,just a look, and raised the telescope to his eye. His gut tightened more. He knew it was too late for him to eat the best fish stew ever prepared by the hand of man. He never cared to eat before sailing into a fleet action.
Crowning the distant horizon was the entire Combined Fleet, freed from the harbor and fighting. He saw theSantísima Trinidad,largest ship in any navy and the pride of Spain, in the middle of a line that appeared to be breaking up. He steadied his hand on the glass and watched as two columns of Nelson’s Mediterranean Fleet sailed into the enemy line with majestic purpose, all flags flying, even more than usual. Sometimes that was the only way to tell friend from enemy, when the guns belched and the sky turned dark.
That was it: Nelson had decided to sail toward the enemy on the perpendicular in two columns and not the parallel, the better to divide the enemy line and fight ship to ship in a wild melee that was as brutal as it was effective. The Battle of the Nile had proved that point.
He was too late. He could not return his father to Spain yet, and he knew in his heart this was not a time to hang back, even if theMercurywas small. He was sailing his crew of school boys in an unarmed yacht toward danger of the worst sort. Able closed his eyes and saw the map of the coast, helpfully scrolled out for him by someone in his head. He knew there was a little outreach of land, nothing like Cabo São Vicente or even Finisterre far to the north. Trafalgar. That was it. Trafalgar.
Chapter Thirty-five
I believe the Rats would follow you into the jaws of hell. Master Ferrier had said it only days ago, and here they were. Thoughtful now, his fear in retreat, Able made his way down to the deck.
“Gather around, Rats,” he said, motioning to them. “Avon, call down for Davey. My father, too. This is a council of war.”
He waited, trying to keep his face expressionless, for those below to hurry topside. A glance at his father’s face told him the count fully understood that rumbling under foot. He gave Able a slight nod.
“We’re heading toward a fight, a big one,” Able said. He squatted on the deck by the wheel where Smitty stood and motioned the others to join him. He smiled to see a pencil behind Davey’s ear and plucked it out. He drew a series of dots on the deck, and then two perpendicular lines, moving them forward until they intersected the dots.
“Admiral Nelson has engaged the Combined Fleet and I believe they have smashed through the line. What follows now is ship-to-ship combat in a wild free-for-all.”
“Gor,” Tots whispered under his breath. “Sounds bad.”
“It is.” He looked toward his father. “Sir, we cannot return you to the coast tonight for obvious reasons. Perhaps in a few days.” The count gave a courtly little bow. “For us to hang back, when we could serve as a repeater, would be cowardice.”
He looked around and saw nothing but resolve. “Guns or not, we’re going in.” Still nothing but resolve.
“Avon, in your flag locker you should find several Union Jacks. Whitticombe, you will hang them from our mast and from the jib boom. We’ll be sailing into dense, dark smoke. Those flags will identify us. Alas, Father, you must go below. If anyone sees your Spanish uniform, and our flags, we would be a prime target for both navies. I won’t have it.”
“Sí, capitán,” his father said, “but there is this: would you allow me to remove my uniform jacket and put on that dark sweater that Meridee knitted for you? Possibly I can be of help on deck.”
“Your loyalties,señor?” Able demanded in Spanish, hating himself for asking.
Again that little bow. “Ii is to you and theMercury. You have my word.”
“Then we thank you,” Able said quietly. “I had to ask.”
“Certainly you did. I would have thought less of you, if you hadn’t.”
Able sat back on his heels, aware that everyone’s eyes were in him. “I will remind all of you that we have absolutely no firepower. All we have is speed, and there is little wind today. I propose that we sail toward the guns and see if we can use Avon’s skills with signals to be a repeater, as we did at Finisterre. If that isn’t necessary, we will look for British tars in the water and fetch them out. Anyone, for that matter. Are you with me so far?”
Every Gunwharf Rat nodded; he knew they would. He couldn’t help his sigh, counting them as close to his dear sons as Ben. “You will see and hear the worst. I expect every man to do his duty. You will stay by your posts and obey every order I give, without exception. Smitty, if I am killed, you will find a way to take theMercuryout of the battle.”
“Aye, sir,” came Smitty’s quiet reply. “I can do that. And we will get your father to Spain.”
“To your posts,” Able said. “Eat first, if you think you can keep it down. Avon, douse the galley fire, then stand by the signal locker. Tots, you will protect Avon with your life. Whitticombe, stand ready to work the sail and call on Tots if you need him. Davey, clear off the table and get out your instruments.Padre, watch over us all.”
Able could have wished for more wind, but the god of wind was fickle that early afternoon. Soon the stench of black powder reached his nostrils. He stood beside the wheel, his hand on Smitty’s shoulder. “Closer to the wind, such as it is, if you would, Mr. Smith,” he said most formally.
The noise quickly overwhelmed them. The sound of cannon belching regularly soothed Able’s soul, because he knew how well-trained Royal Navy gunners were. The more intermittent firing told him that the Spaniards and Frenchies, while brave, never would have practiced enough in the confines of the Cádiz harbor to achieve that same efficiency. That simple fact gave him confidence, despite the sight of wounded Royal Navy vessels, some with masts crashing down, as the littleMercuryheeled and dodged into the center of the fight.
Able felt a hand on his own shoulder, and turned to smile at his father, wearing Meri’s beautiful navy blue sweater she had knitted when there weren’t stockings to darn and trousers to let out for growing Rats. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, rewarding himself with the sight of his wife darning in her chair beside his in the sitting room, and laughing at some bit of wisdom from Ben.Meri, think of me now, crossed his mind.
“Hot work,” was all his father said.
Smitty gasped at the sight of theBelleisle, masts gone, as theMercuryedged by, its decks piled with the dead and dying. Ahead, theMarsfought off two French ships, crammed next to theSanta Anawhich fired round after round into the wounded but still savageRoyal Sovereign, Admiral Collingwood’s flagship.
Admiral Nelson relished a good fight at close quarters. Able wondered where theVictorywas, even as he knew the little admiral was probably standing, imperturbable, beside his flag captain Thomas Hardy, and commenting upon the action.
But here was theMars, surrounded and brave. Able squeezed Smitty’s shoulder. “Son, sail between theMarsand that Frenchie. Can you do it?”
