Rosily-Mesros has arrived in Madrid from France. Do you know what that means?”
“He has been sent to make peace?” I’m always hoping.
“Hardly. There’s no reason for a rival French officer to be in the middle of Spain unless he was en route to Cadiz, and no reason for Rosily, a senior and elderly admiral, to come all the way to Cadiz unless he has been ordered by Napoleon to replace the vacillating, hapless, Admiral Villeneuve—me.” His tone was ironic. “The new commander is delayed in the Spanish capital by a broken carriage and the need to assemble an escort against the bandits of western Spain, but still, he was only four hundred miles away when this letter of warning was sent to me. Even now he may be approaching. Which means Villeneuve’s career is over.”
The admiral was referring to himself in the third person, as if already obsolete. Not encouraging. “My commiserations.”
“Unless,” Villeneuve said grandly, “Villeneuve sails and proves his courage.”
Suddenly, I saw why the admiral thought our letters needed to be shared. We were both men in a hurry, he to salvage his reputation, me to save my wife if she could still be rescued. Honor and glory motivate the military world, and a man’s rank is fixed not just by the braid on his shoulders but courage to the point of rashness. Villeneuve faced a grim choice. He could take an unready fleet out to battle and risk the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers and sailors. Or he could meekly wait to be dismissed, disgracing a thousand years of family history.
“If you remain at anchor you’ll be replaced within days,” I summed up.
“Exactly. And you’ll be transferred in irons to Paris. But if we’re at sea, the Combined Fleet is still mine, and my future is still mine. So I put it to you, Ethan Gage. Should I put you under guard for escort to this schemer of a woman? Should I wait for Rosily to take my command? Or should we both sally against Nelson and trust to God that either victory or defeat will hurry us to our goals?”
“Death or capture?”
“Be optimistic, monsieur. Victory, and a prize to sail to Venice. A long shot, yes, but when the table is almost empty, does not the gambler stake all?”
I’d no choice, nor was I being given one. I dared not put myself under the mercy of Catherine. The way to Astiza was gunfire and glory.
I stood straighter than I felt. “Agreed.” Maybe I could swim to the British when our ship went down. “I’ll bet on you over return to Paris.”
Villeneuve seemed relieved by having his hand forced, as if a weight had been lifted. “Don’t be too pessimistic, Monsieur Gage. We’ve more ships than the enemy, I hope, and the winds of war can blow both ways. La fortune des armes, n’est-ce pas? Nelson will make clever plans, but who knows which fleet will hold the weather gauge, be closest to Gibraltar, or throw the initial broadsides? A first punch can be decisive.”
“I just make poor cannon fodder. I think too much.”
“Yes, I’ve considered your utility. You can read, and swim, and thus are unlike most of your shipmates. I suspect you truly meant well by coming here, and I don’t intend to keep you locked in irons as a condemned man while battle rages. I want you to fight with us with intelligence, courage, and free will.”
I liked the sound of that plan, given the alternative. This Villeneuve was not a bad sort, I sensed, just the wrong man at the wrong time. “What do you propose?”
He smiled wryly. “First, to lie down on the deck when the enemy broadside comes. We officers are required to stand tall to inspire our crews, but I allow the ordinary sailors to lie low to avoid the enemy cannonballs. If I were you, I’d kiss the planking in hopes of avoiding the worst of the flying splinters.”
“Thank you, but not entirely reassuring.”
“On the other hand, I’m reminded of your rather remarkable rifle. Such a gift from the emperor shows your talent as well as his favor. Consider being a sharpshooter for us in the rigging.”
“That sounds most dangerous of all.”
“Not entirely. Our navies employ different tactics. The British who are skilled at gunnery go for the guts of a ship, shooting hull against hull.”
“I saw that skill at the Battle of the Nile.”
“The French and Spanish have a different philosophy, necessitated by our rustier skills. The