by Lee Henschel
He referred to the compass, making sure of east, then unfurled his prayer rug. “Now I will pray. Go.”
While he prayed I sat on the gun deck outside the great cabin sewing one of his espadrilles with a farrier stitch father taught me. Gottlieb had torn it, and several black beads had gone missing as well. I was almost finished when Opp came and told me see Mr. Lau in his quarters. When I arrived Mr. Lau was just closing his ledgers.
“Did Gottlieb suspect?”
“I don’t think so, sir. He was distracted for missing his prayers and all. And still peckish, I think.”
“Very well. I called you in because the moon’s phase is a waning crescent and won’t rise until almost morning. And we shall run the strait this night. I feel a sea change, no doubt a squall will catch us up by then.”
“A sea change, sir?”
“A transformation in weather and sea.”
“But the sky, sir, it’s still most blue and the breeze is a good one.”
“Aye. It is that. But you are new to this lad, and don’t yet know that a sea change is a thing felt more than seen. Wat feels it and gave me a nod. Captain Cedric feels it as well. But a sea captain is a lonely one, and meant to keep his feelings to himself.”
“A sea change sounds a menacing storm, sir?”
“A storm, aye, but not a menace. It’s an opportunity. One we shall use to drive us through the strait in short order. And under the cover of darkness the semaphores at Tarif and Ceuta will have difficulty spotting us, let alone identifying us.”
“Lieutenant Rainey said once about semaphores, sir, at Fisterra. But I didn’t know what he meant.”
“A semaphore is a signal tower used to pass on information by line of sight from one station to another. Our spies suspect the Frogs may have semaphores strung all the way from Gibraltar to Paris so if we try running Gibraltar by daylight, or even by bright moonlight, the semaphores at Tarif and Ceuta will surely see us and report the sighting. Then, in just twenty-four hours, the Directorate would know another of His Majesty’s frigates has entered the Mediterranean.”
“That’s not good, sir.”
“That depends. Sometimes it’s very good to intimidate the Frogs by revealing our fleet strength . . . like the Cadiz Blockade. But at other times the less they know, the better. That’s why tonight we’ll use this coming storm to cloak our passage. I’ll require you to be on the quarterdeck, to attend me. To listen and observe.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Therefore I’ve moved up your lesson. You will have it now. Ordinarily I’d introduce lambda at this point. But time presses, so we’ll come back to lambda at another time.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Yesterday I derived Gibraltar’s chief navigational traits for you. Now I shall test your memory. To begin . . . tell me the coordinates of this strait.”
“Five degrees twenty-nine minutes west, sir, and thirty-five degrees fifty-eight minutes north.”
“Incorrect.”
I lowered my head discouraged. I thought I’d remembered them most proper.
“Always report latitude first, lad, then longitude. You did just the opposite. Otherwise you are correct.”
“Oh! Aye, sir.”
“Now . . . in what direction does water flow through the strait?”
“Inflow and outflow both, sir. East and west.”
“Correct. And its depth?”
“One hundred forty fathoms to four hundred ninety fathoms, sir.”
“Prevailing winds?”
“Mostly west by south, sir. Sometimes there’s a land breeze at night though, depending on the day’s heat.”
“Name the currents and their direction.”
“In the Atlantic there’s the Azores Current, sir, flowing mostly across the entrance to the strait northerly. And the Portugal Current does as much, sir. In the Mediterranean there’s the Alboran Current, flowing easterly. Oh! And there’s a rotational current in the Alboran Sea. It’s called a . . . a . . .”
“A gyre, Harriet.”
“Aye, sir. A gyre.”
“Very well. How much does Captain Cedric need to take these currents into account?”
“I . . . I forgot, sir.
“You must be sure to have this information, Harriet. You must have it ready for the captain if he asks you. He expects you to know.”
“Sir?”
“What?”
“The captain . . . doesn’t he already know about the strait?”
“You can be sure he does. But the captain’s first duty is to command Eleanor, not sail her. His standing orders are to bring Eleanor’s guns to bear on the enemy in any way possible. And we serve the captain . . . to make it so. Do understand?”
“Aye, sir.”
“To refresh your memory then, these currents are not strong in summer. But stronger in winter.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Width of the strait?”
“Seven point seven miles, sir, at its narrowest point.”
“Distance through the strait?”
“Approximately twenty miles, sir, from Cape Trafalgar east to Point Almina.”
“How long will it take for us to make the passage?”
I slumped again. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Correct! No one can know that, though you thought you should know it, and your disappointment shows.”
“Oh.”
“Still . . . you answered right. When you don’t know a thing you must say you don’t know it. Don’t be tempted to hazard a guess unless and until you’re asked. Then offer it as an educated guess only.”
“Aye, sir.”
“That will do for now. Next time we’ll discuss zero degrees latitude and zero degrees longitude. I expect you to discover where they intersect. Dismissed.”
“Aye, sir.” I made to leave, but turned back. “Sir?”
Mr. Lau was already opening another ledger and looked up. “What is it, lad?”
“How long will it take, sir, to make the passage?”
“About two hours, if all goes well. Go you now.”
I returned to the great cabin, finished repairing Gottlieb’s espadrille then set his place for dinner.
“Young Harriet, we are interrupted every time I try to explain Otra Nova. But time runs short, so now I must lay out the mission while you serve.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I have said Otra Nova is a finca—you would call it a farm—and I told you of my agent there. And the Artesian Gate as well. Do you recall?”
“Aye, Gottlieb. All of that. But not much more.”
“Very well, I shall refresh. Otra Nova is owned by two brothers. I will not honour them by saying their names. Besides, it does not matter. It is enough to know they are Bedouins who have forsaken the life. However, they still maintain ties with their tribe—a tribe always at war with the Beja. They are the ones who stole my cousin’s horses, not to have for breeding but to shame my cousin, to force him from power and weaken the Beja. They have become my cousin’s blood enemies, and so they are mine.”
Just then Eleanor’s sails luffed and the deck hands beat feet along the deck to trim them. The wind was shifting now, west by west, and blowing a strong breeze. The squall was coming dead on. Gottlieb paused, looking nervous as Eleanor rolled near to her beam waiting for her to right herself before he went on.
“I plan for us to ride these two horses out of Otra Nova through the Artesian Gate. You will ride the mare. I will ride the stallion. My agent must know we are coming though, to prepare the horses for riding, to unlock the gate, and such. To finalize these plans you and I will visit him. We must arrive very late at night. If my agent says all is well then we will conduct our raid the very next night. We will ride directly to Mahon. By coastal road it is seven miles to Mahon and many locals take that route even at night. We stay off that road. The Artesian Gate leads into the hills where there is a network of trails. One trail leads to Mahon. We will take that way and arrive in Mahon by fir
st light. Eleanor will be docked by then, and waiting.”
“Gottlieb?”
“Yes?”
“Isn’t there a closer harbour where Eleanor can meet us?”
“There is, in Nagua. But the bay at Nagua is small and shallow. Eleanor cannot dock there. Besides, Mahon is the only port on Minorca with a pier. That is where we must load the horses.”
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“These horses are going on the ocean then?”
“I see you have reservations.”
“Well . . . my father guessed that horses must have always gone in boats on the ocean, sir—he didn’t think horses swam all the way to England. But I think boats must be special made for horse stock and such, not a warship, like Eleanor.”
“That is true. This is why I am pleased with the stable Mr. Starky built.”
“Aye, Gottlieb. It’s made most clever. And father said some horses like being around water. They like watching it. But other horses not so much, sir, and I don’t think any horse can like being on the ocean overlong.”
“These two horses have been on the ocean, young Harriet, when they were stolen and brought to Otra Nova.”
Gottlieb stopped to sniff the air and we both smelled the rain at the same time. Lightning flashed deep inside a distant squall, too far off yet to hear thunder. On deck the captain’s voice rose above the wind, ordering the top men aloft to reduce sail.
Gottlieb went on. “The horses are sea worthy, young Harriet, and I have devised a very good plan for this mission. It is complicated though, and requires more than just the two of us. That is why I have requested Lieutenant Kyle to assist us. He will be here soon to hear my plan.”
Lorca brought Gottlieb’s dinner of fried fish. I’d not seen this kind of fish before, and I asked Gottlieb what they were.
“I do not know. Lorca said he caught them this afternoon. I fear the poor fellow has lost his mind.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“My Spanish is not very good but I think he called them pez volador.”
“What’s that?”
“I translate that as flying fish.”
“Fish don’t fly, sir.”
“Of course not. And I said as much to Lorca. He just laughed as if I had made a joke and told me he caught them in his net.”
“I don’t suppose that’s so unusual is it, sir? To net a fish?”
“He said he used his butterfly net. His butterfly net! Well, perhaps I misunderstood.” He sighed. “I grow tired of the delicacies I brought with me, and I wished for a vegetable and fresh fruit to be served to me tonight. But Lorca reminded me we are at sea, and we all must suffer.” He tasted a fish and raised a brow. “Even so, swim or fly this is a very good fish.” He tucked in, making careful sure of the bones.
A solid knock sounded on the door just as he finished.
“Come.”
Lieutenant of Marines Tam Kyle entered the great cabin. He always stayed with his men, so I’d not seen much him before, and never close up. He looked about thirty—younger than my father and older than my brother. Not overlarge, yet he filled the cabin with his military bearing. He braided his ash blond hair in a long queue. Thick brows and light blue eyes. His right eye floated some. Not overmuch, but enough so that he might be speaking to one person while seeming to look at another, or no one at all. He used this slight cast in his eye to his advantage, particularly when addressing his men. The men knew not who he was yelling at. All of them? Or maybe none of them? He stood at attention in his scarlet tunic fresh brushed. He cleared his throat while looking at the lantern on the bulkhead with his weak eye . . . but addressing Gottlieb.
“I must say it is unusual for a marine officer to take orders from a civilian, sir.”
“Your objection is noted, Lieutenant Kyle.”
“It’s not an objection, sir. I am honoured to be of assistance. But my chain of command . . .”
“Your chain of command for this mission is of a different magnitude, Lieutenant. This action requires unconventional tactics and it will never be recorded. Is that understood?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Captain Cedric tells me you have partaken in such operations before. Is that so?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that, sir.”
“Outstanding! This mission requires a delicate sort of diplomacy. Tell me if you will, what do you know of Otra Nova?”
It turned out Kyle knew less than me.
“A good start, Kyle. Now you need to know more . . . for you will soon be engaged in an action there.”
“So I’ve been told, sir.”
Gottlieb brought out a hand drawn map of Minorca’s south coast. He spread it on the table and gestured for Kyle to lean in.
“Otra Nova lies here, a mile east of Nagua. The estate is bordered by two roads and where these roads join . . . that is Otra Nova’s main gate. The estate is several hundred hectares—a large holding for Minorca—and is shaped like a lady’s fan held half open. Where the lady holds the fan, that is the main gate, and the estate fans out from there into pastures and orchards, and then into the hills.”
It took half an hour for Gottlieb to outline his plan, explaining our movements in detail and referring often to the map. When Gottlieb finished he stepped back inviting Kyle to comment.
The lieutenant scowled and cleared his throat polite. “May I speak plainly, sir?”
Gottlieb nodded.
“Your plan is too complex. It needs to be simplified.”
“What do you suggest?”
“One. Your plan begins by going ashore the night before to contact your agent at Otra Nova. Good, so far. But the success of this mission depends on surprise so I suggest we not sail Eleanor into Nagua bay the next day. The ship must remain unseen below the horizon. We must row ashore in darkness. It’s a long row, and one can become disoriented at night. But I’m sure the Eleanors are up to it.”
“Is there more, Kyle?”
“There is. Two. Are there any dogs at Otra Nova?”
“There are hunting dogs kenneled in the hills. They bark day and night, at everything and nothing, so they are of no concern. There is a watch dog at the main house. It is old but still knows its duties and will bark. My agent will poison it on the night we conduct or mission.”
“Very well. Three. This village of Nagua, how many people live there?”
“My agent says about fifty.”
“And do these villagers have any affiliations with Otra Nova?”
“They are loyal to the orchards at Otra Nova. It is their livelihood. If the owners observe village custom then the villagers are likely to accommodate.”
“And the current owners . . . are they accommodated by the workers?”
“My agent says they are tolerated at best.”
“Then we should not land at the pier at Nagua. We should land here, on this beach.” Kyle placed a stubby finger on a space just east of Nagua. “This beach lies between Nagua and Otra Nova so we won’t have to move through the village and arouse anyone. If we arouse them they may send ahead to warn the estate. Besides, landing on this beach east of Nagua will help us stay well clear of this estuary here, just west of Nagua.” Kyle thumped on the map. “No doubt that estuary is a salt marsh and landing there would delay us. It might even compromise the mission. As I said, five miles is a good deal of rowing and even more so at night. We must not drift off course and end up in that estuary.”
By now it seemed Gottlieb was starting to regret asking Kyle’s opinion.
“Now then, four. You request all eighteen of my marines to go on this mission. I suggest taking nine. Nine marines move faster and quieter than eighteen marines. That fact will help us maintain the element of surprise. If we take all of them ashore there will be none left onboard to defend Eleanor, to act as our reserve if we need them.”
“Is not too many men better than not enough, lieutenant?”
“Generally true, sir. But I have stan
ding orders that prohibit removing all my marines from Eleanor. The proper amount of men is the best amount, sir. And the proper amount for this operation is nine marines.”
Gottlieb, despite his dark complexion, turned a bit red. “Go on, Kyle.”
“Five. Your plan calls for all of my marines to assault the main house directly and capture these two brothers. I suggest we surround the house first to determine if these two men are even there. Perhaps they won’t be there, but have escaped through the main gate. So I suggest we leave three marines at Otra Nova’s main gate to seal and secure it, or send word back to the beach if needed.”
Gottlieb nodded for Kyle to proceed.
“Six. After capturing these men you intend for us to split up. You will take charge of the prisoners and prepare to ride these two horses out the Artesian Gate and on to Mahon. My marines shall quit Otra Nova and return to the beach. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“I suggest we don’t split up with you. It’s hard to identify friend and foe at night. We may end up shooting each other. Can you accept this suggestion, sir?”
“No. Your mission is to get us to the house, capture these two brothers and turn them over to me. Then you will return to Eleanor the way you arrived. By boat. I insist.”
“Very well. Seven, more of a concern than a suggestion, really.” Kyle stared at the bulkhead lantern swinging in its gimbal. He was not staring at the lantern though, but at me.
“I gather this lad here is to come on this mission.”
“Correct. I believe his knowledge of horses might be needed.”
“He’s too young, sir. Does no one else aboard Eleanor know anything about horses who can go in his place?”
“I have been told Midshipman Baker knew horses well enough. And he is dead.”
“I won’t take responsibility for the boy.”
Gottlieb looked at me. “He is my responsibility, Lieutenant Kyle.”
Kyle stared at Gottlieb for a moment, then continued.
“Eight. Your agent. Best I don’t know his name or his methods. You depend much on him though, and I wish to know two things. Is he trustworthy? And what are his motives?”
“He is reliable because he is motivated by something of great value to him.”