Page 57 of A Fierce Wind

Chapter 14

Onboard la Reine Noire off the northwest coast of Brittany, France, 30 May

Freddie peered through the spyglass, seeing only dense fog but sensing ships lay hidden within the heavy mist. “They’re out there, I can feel it.”

He handed the glass to Donet, standing at his side.

Donet frowned, his black eyes speaking his displeasure at the delay caused by the fog. “Admiral Howe would not have sent the message requesting my presence on the Queen Charlotte were he not intending to be here. ’Tis a far distance from Brest but I am certain the French fleet is close by as well.”

Freddie had read the message waiting for Donet when they’d arrived on Guernsey in which Howe said Prime Minister Pitt thought Donet could provide useful intelligence on the French Navy. Dispatched from the port of Brest under the command of Admiral Villaret, with whom la Reine Noire had tangled on the Channel months before, the French fleet was to protect an American convoy carrying corn to famine-threatened France. Howe’s orders were to block the grain shipment from reaching its destination.

Freddie looked toward the aft hatch. The woman who would soon be his bride slept belowdecks. He had wanted Zoé to stay on Guernsey but all his persuading was to no avail. “Pigeon, my sister is eager to help plan the wedding. Why not stay and oblige her?”

“How can you ask me to stay behind when I have only just got you back? Non,” she said, pouting her perfect lips. “There will be no sailing away without me. I am going with you.”

When he told Donet that Zoé intended to sail with them, her uncle shrugged. “As French merchantmen flying the flag of the Republic, we will not be subject to an attack by Villaret and we are expected by Howe. Our business can soon be concluded and we will return to Guernsey.”

Freddie’s time on the island with Zoé, though brief, had been sweet. Whenever they could, they escaped into the gardens to be alone. She had welcomed his kisses, whetting his appetite for the honeymoon he had long dreamed of. Now that he was assured of her love, he wanted her safe, away from the war.

But the French temptress could be stubborn when it came to dismissing risk.

Once on board la Reine Noire, she had advised him if fighting began she would not again be sent to the orlop deck. “Absolument pas!” The fury in her gray eyes only made her more beautiful rendering his objection a faint protest he soon abandoned.

He could hardly refuse Donet’s request to join him after the daring rescue he had undertaken on Freddie’s behalf, snatching him from the jaws of Paris’ guillotine. At least Freddie had managed to leave Pax and Isabeau in his sister’s care on Guernsey, which delighted Jack, who assumed the new arrivals were for him to supervise.

And so, here he was, sailing into what might be the largest naval battle of the war, worrying about Zoé every minute.

When Donet heeded Admiral Howe’s call, Freddie had asked about the ships in the British Channel Fleet and learned that the HMS Orion, on which Zack Barlow’s son, Danny, served was among them. Freddie remembered telling Zack he would bring him a report on his son but he never expected to be an eyewitness to a battle in which Danny might play a role.

“Do you think those French ships that passed us yesterday were a part of the grain convoy?” he asked Donet. Since la Reine Noire flew the Republic’s flag, the French ships of the line had sailed right past them, heading for Brest, their home port.

“Non. The grain convoy, I suspect, has yet to arrive. More likely, Villaret was sending the ships we saw to Brest for repairs. At least one had received serious damage from what I could see.”

Freddie stared into the fog trying to imagine a ship lurking in the gray mist. “Then the battle has already begun.”

“Most assuredly. At least a skirmish or two.”

The next day, to Freddie’s relief, the fog lifted and the day after, the first of June, early in the morning they found the Channel Fleet and Admiral Howe’s flagship, the Queen Charlotte.

“Can’t I go with you?” Zoé asked Freddie, hating the answer she knew was coming.

“No, mon amour.” He tapped her playfully on the nose. “For one thing, you are French and we will be boarding the flagship of the British commander of the Channel Fleet.” Her gaze shifted to her uncle who was just descending the manrope to the skiff. If he could go, why can’t—

As if reading her mind, Freddie said, “The only reason your uncle is invited to the Queen Charlotte is because Pitt requested he be consulted.”

She pursed her lips. “And you?”

“It seems as I am a spy for England, Pitt allowed that I, too, might be of help.”

She had always known he was working for England, but only after they’d returned from Paris did he tell her the accusations the republican soldiers hurled at him in the woods near Rennes were true. The coded message he had passed to her that was now in Philippe d’Auvergne’s hands would help England to meet the needs of the Chouans.

He was more gallant, more courageous than she had realized. And he was to be hers! The thought brought tears to her eyes and a tightness to her throat.

While she understood his refusal to take her aboard the Queen Charlotte, that did not diminish her disappointment. She had so wanted to see the ship her uncle had told her was the largest of the warships in the British Navy. “Oh very well,” she said on a sigh, “I shall just have to watch her hundred guns from here.”

“You’ll not be as close as that, Pigeon. Bequel has orders to keep la Reine Noire far from any battle.”

Aboard the Queen Charlotte in the North Atlantic west of Brittany