AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Eight
Roman stood at the ship’s rail, the sail no longer flapping as the frigate anchored in the Cadiz harbor. He’d been worried about getting out of Argentina. When he saw the small British frigate bobbing in the harbor, Roman thought his luck had turned for the good.
He rubbed a hand over his growth of beard and then checked his watch, a wretched timepiece that he’d acquired after selling nearly everything he had to keep their group together and moving toward Spain.
“I never thought I’d see Cadiz again,” Commodore Hightower said as he approached to Roman’s right.
“And I was beginning to worry we would never see a continent without Napoleon at the helm of a French army. Spain will be the better for it.”
“I’m afraid you don’t know Spaniards as well as you think you do,” Hightower said.
After finding Oliver and Hightower, they’d returned to Buenos Aires to find that news of Napoleon’s death had even reached South America’s far shores. Roman could imagine how Bathurst and the Home Office were scurrying to mitigate all the consequences.
Hightower leaned against a supporting crutch, as he was near recovered from all the maladies he’d suffered since his crew had mutinied in South America. Strange how something so fraught with betrayal could, in the end, have saved their lives. But as Hightower and Oliver had both observed over the past several months, trusting the wrong persons on a ship that required absolute cohesion could be fatal. When the crew had mutinied, Oliver had refused to abandon his commander. The crew who had remained somewhat loyal had rejected a firing squad for their commander and had set the two afloat on a dingy. They’d been unaware theVictorioushad gone down until Roman broke the news.
“There must be a lot of things you thought you’d never see again,” Roman said dryly.
“My boy, you do not know the half of it.”
“I suppose there is no need to send a note ahead. Our arrival will herald our return in a way no hand-delivered note could.”
“It is your decision. Shelene likely believes you are as lost as I was. And Oliver,” Hightower said.
Roman had sent two letters. One when he’d arrived in Buenos Aires fourteen months ago and one when he’d left the city a month later, heading toward the Pampas region and its coastline. There had been one other opportunity when he was in a small town at the southern tip of the country, but he was doubtful about whether it would ever get delivered, and Roman had needed every piece of gold and silver he’d brought with him.
“Mi’lord,” Joaquin said. “I’ve the trunks packed for when it is time to depart.” The trunks were small wooden boxes which held the meanest of clothes, including blankets, coats and boots they’d needed in the very cold region of Patagonia.
“A few more hours, I’d think. I don’t have the funds to bribe the captain into seeing we are the first off the ship.”
“I’m about to crawl from my skin. I will kiss the soil as soon as I set a foot to it,” Joaquin said. “And I will never make such a voyage as this as long as I live. Give me a cow and a few chickens and I will be content forever.”
Roman laughed. Something he had not done much of in the last year and a half. “I will help make that happen, Joaquin. As soon as we get home.”
He let his gaze search out the landmarks of the city along the isthmus. Catedral Nueva and the dome. San Sebastian fortress. What he wanted to see was well beyond Cadiz and he stared toward the horizon.
“Joaquin, can you find someone to help bring Oliver above deck? He would probably enjoy the sunlight without the severe rocking of the boat.” Once they passed Gibraltar, the water had tamed considerably.
“Sí, mi’lord.”
Oliver had had the worst of it, defending his commodore. It all started with malaria he’d contracted while in Brazil. Roman could tell Oliver blamed himself for the mutiny, not being strong enough to buttress the commodore, then getting beaten to a bloody pulp. A head wound that had caused memory loss and headaches. Influenza whilst they’d struggled through the winter once they got to safety.
They were both lucky to be alive.
And the commodore, true leader of men, had been most concerned about his crew and ship. Roman delivered the bad news in typical fashion, with facts and without emotion. Of course, he only knew what he’d been told those months ago by a French sailor.
Hightower had taken it personally, removing the last remaining lace insignia on the shoulder sleeve of his battered uniform. Maybe it was a reminder to him, or to the Royal Navy, that he’d served his last mission. Only once had he lamented losing his dress sword, given to him by Nelson himself, but in those few words Roman heard the despair of failure.
Joaquin had hurried off to do Roman’s bidding as he had for these many months.
What would he have done without Joaquin’s help? He’d run errands, seen that Roman’s clothes were cleaned, fetched supplies, listened when Roman was frustrated, angry and ready to give up. Roman was going to see to it that Joaquin got more than a few head of livestock. He had an estate that needed a solid and reliable foreman, and Joaquin would be that man. Find him a wife and the boy would be devoted to Roman for life.
“It won’t seem like home without my dear Gabriela. I never regretted my life at sea knowing she was always waiting for me. Now that she is gone, I feel like there is no reason to ever set sail again,” Hightower said. Roman felt the same sort of regret, except he had a living wife who was going to despise him for giving his word and breaking it.
“You have a daughter and a magnificent estate that is waiting for your attention, Commodore. A life well-lived. Being spared a fate you didn’t deserve. You have much to be thankful for. Much to look forward to.”
“As do you, Roman. You will not miss your duty to England as much as you think you will.”
Of course, Hightower referred to Shelene. Roman had spent most nights thinking of her, and now that he was near home again, he didn’t not want to think about what might be waiting.
