we do appreciate your interest,” he said. “This is still a strange environment for Gunwharf Rats.”
Funny how such a rarefied atmosphere at both Trinity House and Admiralty a few blocks away turned Smitty – Brendan Smith – into a boy again, and not the more hardened thug who had the capacity to frighten the younger class at St. Brendan’s. Able could not deny his own trepidation at passing through the three-columned entrance with awe. What am I doing here? he asked himself, and received all kinds of answers from the assorted brilliant minds inside his skull that obviously had nothing better to do.
A nod to the porter sitting behind a tall desk sent an escort out to direct them to, as it turned out, the chamber of Admiral James Gambier, Admiralty Lord Commissioner.
“Give him a good bow,” Able whispered to Smitty, as he managed his own bow to such a powerful man.
Smitty did not hesitate. Luckily, his head was still down, so he missed the lurking smile on Dismal Jimmy’s face. A veteran of all seven seas and their attendant woes, Admiral Gambier had seen it all, including awkward youths, some of whom commanded warships now.
“Hector, how good to see you again. Master Able Six? I have heard much of you. Very well, you three, let us never stand on too much ceremony. Sit sit.”
They sat sat promptly, Smitty obviously in awe of the room, Captain Rose at home there, and Able somewhere in between. The lord commissioner wasted not a moment. He leaned forward, giving them the eye that had terrified a generation of seafaring men. “I have need of your services right now, bearing messages to and from the blockade. Can ye do it in a yacht? I hear it’s a fair specimen.”
“Aye, sir,” Able said promptly. “We’ve only sailed beyond the Isle of Wight a time or two, but she’s seaworthy and raring for more.”
“Have you other capable lads like this one, Master Six?”
“Aye, sir,” he said again. “Brendan Smith here will be my sailing master. We at St. Brendan’s have a group of Gunwharf Rats that acquitted themselves well in our dealings with the prison hulks. They’re rough and ready.”
Gambier nodded. He eyed Smitty for a moment. Smitty sat straighter in his chair and returned the gaze, never flinching. “Pain of death,” Gambier said slowly, enunciating each word.
“Aye, sir,” Smitty said with no pause and no fear. He understood what was about to happen.
“I, as well, Admiral,” Able said, when the glance swung to him.
The lord commissioner leaned back. “We have it on good authority from Admiral Calder, Channel Fleet commanding, that the combined fleet of France and Spain are lurking about Ferrol and off Cape Finisterre.”
He looked at the map of Europe and Smitty followed his gaze. Able knew the map inside his head and stared at the ceiling instead, plainly seeing Finisterre jutting out from Spain’s far western reach. Finisterre. Lands’ end, where currents were tricky and many a good ship had been driven to death on the rocky shore.
“Napoleon had counted on Villeneuve leading our Nelson on a merry dance in the Caribbean, and leaving him behind, but it didn’t work,” Captain Rose added. “Sources tell us that the enemy raced back just ahead of Nelson and is contemplating a bolt north from Finisterre. His orders seem to involve driving the Channel Fleet away and protecting those invasion boats at Boulogne. Boney wants to cross the Channel in the worst way and he is getting impatient.”
Admiral Gambier directed his attention to Captain Rose. “So your agents have informed us.”
Able nodded. It was what he had suspected, too. Gambier noticed and turned toward him. “What would you do, Master Six, were you in my shoes?”
“Gather in more blockaders and send them to reinforce Admiral Calder, sir,” he said promptly. “A wall of ship and sail will thwart those designs for a crossing and bottle up the Combined Fleet in Cadiz yet again, if done right.”
“Precisely. Our sources suggest that Villeneuve is unloading upwards of a thousand ailing sailors all along the Spanish coast, following his Caribbean adventure. Beautiful islands, terrible diseases. And, Master Six?”
“Villeneuve will be understrength, sir, “Able said promptly. “He is a prudent man, perhaps too prudent to make much of an effort at Finisterre, if Admiral Calder is bold enough.”
“If and if again.” Gambier took a canvas bag from the corner of his desk and handed it to Able. “You are to deliver this message to Admiral Calder blockading France off