Unlikely Heroes - Carla Kelly Page 0,67

their turn on deck, staring in silence across the water, in itself most pleasant, especially for workhouse lads who never enjoyed solitude unless it was as punishment. Jamie MacGregor had told him once that the lapping of water or the hiss of spindrift spray was soothing to the mind and heart. “I will always need it,” Jamie said simply. “It fills an empty space.”

Cádiz itself was on an inlet, with the Combined Fleet tucked in close to the mainland. Able sniffed the evening breeze, pleased with the odor of olive oil and fish frying in some taberna along the shore. He had lost his virginity in Cádiz at a precocious age – Meri refused to believe him – so the seaport had its own meaning.

An old crone told his fortune there, too, years ago now. His mates hadn’t believed him when he said he understood Spanish, but he did, even the hag’s half-Castilian, half-Roma dialect. She promised him sons and daughters and lovers in many ports. He smiled at the memory. Sons and daughters would do fine, muchas gracias. He needed no other lover than his own wife.

They were close enough to Cádiz; it was time to play off and return to the fold. A touch of the wheel, a swing of the boom, and the Mercury sailed for the blockade like a son coming home from a party a little merry from spirits, but sober-enough to pass parental sniffs and inspection. He thought he saw Ben years from now in just such a predicament, and smiled into the future. Not everyone could do that, but he could.

Soon the Mercury was tucked in amongst the far-larger frigates, safe and sound, swinging on her anchor, a child beside strong parents. Another hour and he would wake Smitty for his turn on deck to stand the watch.

Making visits to each frigate in the morning, Able had informed the captains that Mercury would sail inshore in two days to pick up two agents, and then heel with the wind immediately to Portsmouth, and then Admiralty in London.

The result of this news was two canvas bags filled with official correspondence and letters home. From tars who could read and write, to Royal Marines, to midshipmen and officers, letters poured in, destined for cities, villages and rural manors throughout England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Able knew the mind-numbing duty of the blockade, completely without glamor but essential to keep the enemy at bay on the continent. He welcomed the personal letters more than the official mail, thinking to himself that before Meridee, he had never received any mail.

When darkness settled on that final evening, the Mercury swung out of line and beat for the coastline south of Cádiz, nearer to Tarifa where they had dropped off foul-smelling Captain Ogilvie.

“It’s so dark, Captain,” Whitticombe said. Able heard a touch of fear. “How will you know when we reach the coast?”

“Use your nose, son,” he said, unmindful of the endearment, until he heard Whitticombe draw in his breath. “Aye, son. You are all my boys,” he amended, as he felt a tightening in his chest. They were. Please, God, no tragedy in whatever battle comes our way, he thought, even though he wasn’t as religious as Meri would have liked. These are my sons and I cannot spare them. “You’ll smell land. Let me know when you do.”

Whitticombe went to the railing and sniffed. Able smiled in the darkness. Then, “Ew, the tide is out.”

“See there? Take a sounding, if you please. Tots, are you ready with the lantern?”

“Aye, sir.”

Able knew the fathoms precisely where they sailed so stealthily, because he had traveled this sea lane years ago. This was for the Rats’ education. Tots poised the lantern on the railing for the signal, when Able gave the word. The answer from shore would be three long flashes.

He looked around. All the Rats were on deck, silent and watchful, without even being requested. He knew the spy business seemed more exciting to impressible lads than it really was.

They sailed south from Cádiz until that midway point between the seaport and Tarifa, approaching the Gut of Gibraltar. When they were precisely at the drop-off spot, Able cleared his throat. “Two flashes, pause, two more quick, Tots, if you please.”

Tots did as commanded, and they watched. Nothing. After two minutes, Able gave the same command, his fingers crossed, worried. They all squinted toward the shore. There it was this time: Three long flashes. They all let out their breath

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