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 the Mercury. We’ll meet soon enough.”
Chapter Twenty-two
They found the Royal Sovereign and 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 the Mercury even 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 the Mercury drab 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, the Mercury heeled 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 – he was hesitant, 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 the Firme, who said that the Count of Quintanar was safely back al 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.”
“You would do that for me?” Able asked. It seemed to be an evening of surprises.
“I believe I would,” was Ogilvie’s quiet reply.
“Is Sir Clive still roaming about Admiralty, unaware that he is on a short leash?” Able asked in a whisper.
“Aye, he is, but not for much longer. Thanks to the secretary we planted, I have about all the useful information I need to indict him and one other.”
“This is a dirty business,” Able said, thinking of Grace St. Anthony and her interest in the man who stood beside him. “How can you do it?”
“Lately, I have been asking myself the same question,” Ogilvie replied.
With Tots sounding the depths, Able angled the Mercury close to shore, then nodded to Smitty. The Mercury had a small craft half the size of