Ocean Pearl
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The captain of Ocean Pearl, a large sloop of war, was a small and dour man who had served in the navy for many years. He was the senior captain aboard, having commanded her since he himself had been promoted to that rank five years earlier; it was also rumored that he’d once worked on the Royal Navy’s most secret vessel – Black Prince.
This would make him one of the few people to have ever served both sides in the long, bitter conflict between the British and French empires. But as rumors always go, there wasn’t any truth to it.
Still, no matter what his previous service, Captain Paine was still respected by his crewmen: a fact is proven by his ability to lead them through every crisis they faced without breaking his stern resolve. It was this quality, perhaps more than anything else, which had made him an excellent commanding officer.
But all such qualities could not hide the fact that he was becoming increasingly forgetful with age. The other day, he forgot the name of one of their ship’s engineers, something that was only compounded when he later realized that the man had died ten years ago.
And before that, he kept ordering the same meal for supper time three nights in a row, and finally just gave up in the middle of eating it. On more occasions than he cared to remember, he’d forgotten to send the men off a watch or to tell them to change into uniform for inspection, and then found out about it from his own first officer instead.
It was getting worse, he knew. If he didn’t do something soon, it might even start affecting his duties as a naval officer. And if that happened… well, things were going to be much harder for everyone. He hoped that none of those thoughts entered his mind when the time came to choose a crewman for his latest mission.
The decision to send him on the next mission had come down from Commodore James, the man who’d taken over command of the entire Atlantic Fleet after Admiral Lord Nelson’s death. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now the plan was being reconsidered.
It had become clear that sending one of their top officers to another fleet, especially one led by a foreign power like Spain, was not a good idea. Not only did this leave the British Empire’s eastern flank exposed, but it was also likely that Admiral Paine would never return.
No one had actually asked the Commodore why he’d chosen him; he simply said that it was because the commander of Ocean Pearl “was the only one available to do it.” Perhaps it was nothing more than an excuse, but Paine was certain that Commodore James wouldn’t send one of his best captains to die in a distant land unless it was absolutely necessary.
And that was certainly true with respect to this situation. So with the help of some of his junior officers, he chose two others to serve in his stead while he remained back in England.
He sent Lieutenant Commander William Murchison, one of the finest young officers in his fleet, and Lieutenant Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, who had recently been promoted to his rank despite his youth. As far as they knew, this assignment was a simple patrol off the Spanish coast that could last as little as a month or so.
The Spaniard’s ships could be expected to sail along the coastline, perhaps to try and seize British merchant vessels carrying goods from Britain’s colonies, but no more than that.
And yet when they arrived at Gibraltar a week later and found that their orders were quite different, Lieutenant Murchison began to question whether he had been misled or if someone higher in authority had changed his mind. But it was too late; orders had already been given to sail for Cadiz, where their mission would begin.
“It seems like an odd place to put a base,” Lieutenant Cotesworth Pinckney commented as he gazed out across the harbor at the town. They’d left the main entrance behind them, heading instead towards the narrow passage known as La Condesa – the narrowest part of the bay.
In the distance, a lone lighthouse sat atop the rock that rose up from the water, marking the end of the harbor’s southern point.
“Well, I’ve heard that there are several reasons why Spain has chosen that particular spot,” Lieutenant Commander Murchison replied. “For starters, it was here that Napoleon first landed back in 1809 when he invaded Spain.
It’s also the oldest colony of the country, having been conquered by the Spanish during the Reconquista, so it makes sense that they’d want to maintain a presence here. Plus, you have to remember that we’re talking about the old world here; Spain is an empire and the rest of Europe wants to be like them.”
He paused. “Besides, we should probably consider ourselves lucky that the Americans decided to give us such a nice location at all.”
The Englishmen turned away from the view and continued making their way toward the small dock near the lighthouse. From there, they would take a launch and make their way to the city of Cadiz itself, located on the opposite side of the bay.
Lieutenant Pinckney looked out at the water again. “You mean the Americans?”
Murchison nodded. “Yes, the Americans. After they defeated the British at Yorktown in 1781, they started building fortifications here on this end of the island. It turns out that they wanted to create a major base on the Atlantic Coast, so they needed somewhere that they could store and repair their ships.
They built Fort Adams here a few years ago, which is a real fortress-like thing with four bastions and a huge battery. You can imagine how important those batteries were when Admiral Horatio Nelson sailed through here two decades ago on his way to defeat the French and Spanish during the Peninsular War.
Nowadays, though, they’re still very much operational, and the fort’s been named a national monument. If we weren’t sailing into a city that was home to tens of thousands of people, I’d suggest taking a look inside.” He smiled. “I know I’m going to regret suggesting that when I get to see it for myself!”
They reached the docks and boarded their launch. There was a ladder attached to the front of the vessel that led to its upper deck, where the officers stood waiting as it took them toward the city.
Cadiz was built upon a rocky peninsula jutting out from the mainland. The city’s history as a port dates back nearly three hundred years since it became part of the Spanish Empire after being discovered by Christopher Columbus. But now it was the seat of the American military in Spain.
The buildings were old, but not so much so that they looked dilapidated. Instead, they gave off an air of elegance and wealth, even amongst the other colonial-era structures that surrounded them. The streets were cobblestone, giving a rough-hewn feel to the place and adding to its historic vibe.
The launch finally dropped the two men onto dry land. Lieutenant Pinckney was taken aback for a moment at the sight before him.
“This is…amazing,” he said.
“Indeed,” Murchison answered. “I don’t think many people realize what an incredible achievement this was.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, I guess not. I didn’t hear anything about it in the papers, but I did read something in a book about it.”
“A book?” Murchison asked. He looked back over his shoulder. “By who?”
“Uh…” The lieutenant fished inside his jacket and pulled out a sheaf of pages, showing them to Murchison. “John Quincy Adams.”
Murchison stared at the pages for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Oh yeah, I remember reading that in college.”
The lieutenant’s face lit up. “In a book? Did he actually go?”
Murchison shook his head. “No, he didn’t. But that was one of my favorites.” He handed the pages back to the young officer. “Here, keep them. When you’re finished, you can bring ’em to me, and I’ll tell you some stories about them.”
Pinckney tucked them inside his jacket and gave the lieutenant a thumbs-up. “Thanks.”
The commander led him through the streets of Cadiz, stopping periodically to admire various features of the city. At last, they arrived at Plaza de Toros, the heart of Cadiz. A stone bullring sat in the center of the plaza, with rows of seats ringing it on either side.
There were shops all around, and even a church with a golden-domed steeple rising above the surrounding rooftops. There were hundreds of people everywhere, and more seemed to be arriving every minute.
“What on earth is this?” Pinckney wondered aloud.
“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” Murchison explained, walking past the crowd of onlookers gathered along the edge of the plaza. “It’s just a local event. It happens every year on this day, and it’s usually attended by tens of thousands of spectators. It’s called the Cabalgata de Reyes.”
“And that’s…what?” the lieutenant asked.
Murchison grinned. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He pointed across the street, where a tall man dressed in black trousers and a white shirt held a long whip in one hand and his hat in the other. His hair was slicked back tightly against his scalp, and he had a wide smile on his face, which showed even brighter against the dark color of his skin. “That would be Don Pedro de Alvarado.”
“The Spanish conquistador?” Pinckney asked incredulously. “Why is he here?”
“Well, he’s not actually here,” Murchison replied as he stepped into the street. “He’s standing outside a restaurant down there, where everyone else is gathering to watch him do it. But he’s the reason we are here.”
The End