Allen had come back on deck and pointed out the sights to Wake—the jagged peak, the gentle lights in the town of Gibraltar, the fleet resting at the anchorage, and Cape Europa jutting out. He had been there as a young subaltern and knew every tunnel and fort. Allen told Wake that of all the honors they were authorized, the Royal Marine Light Infantry only carried one battle honor streamer on their regimental flag, the one for winning the 1704 battle that secured the Rock’s possession for the Royal Navy and Great Britain. Since that time several attempts had been made to wrest the fortress away. All had failed. Allen said it was the most heavily fortified piece of British territory in the entire world. A legendary place for British sailors, it was also one of the few where British tars could have liberty ashore—captains knew there was nowhere for them to run.
That depressing thought brought Wake’s mind back to the mail he had received on Trinidad while ashore in Spain—an un-perfumed envelope from Pensacola. It was given to him after the ship left the port and he had read it alone in the cabin while Allen was out.
Pensacola, Florida
December 28th, 1873
Dear Peter,
I received your letter and Christmas presents today. Thank you very much for the lovely dress and robe from Puerto Rico. Even if I do say so myself (there is no one else here to tell me), they look very nice on me. Sean is enthralled with his wooden boat and he is playing with it as I write this. Useppa loved wearing her beautiful little dress to church last Sunday, especially since her Daddy wrote that it was made for a princess.
I see you aren’t coming home in June, but instead are heading to the Mediterranean for two years. I think you know what I think of that. Another naval wife told me just this week that officers who have served over five years can resign their commission at any time—that they’re not bound by any further commitment to the navy. So it appears that you don’t have to go to the European Squadron—you have chosen to go. Your children and your wife need you. If you need them, you should resign and be a husband and a father.
You can still be a sailor and love the sea on a merchant ship, but on your terms, not some politician’s in Washington. Peter, the navy has used you and never appreciated your efforts and loyalty and sacrifice. You are just another cog in their mechanical beast of burden. When they are through with you, you’ll be left high and dry on the beach, like so many others.
I do not understand why you choose them over us. What is this hold they have over you? I pray you will come to your senses.
Your loving wife,
Linda
He didn’t know what to do. In so many ways she was right, absolutely right. But in one way she was wrong. He was a naval officer and didn’t want to be a merchant marine seaman. He didn’t want to carry cargo endlessly or, God forbid, be a fisherman. As a naval officer he was part of something more important, more useful. The navy had presented him with pain and frustration, but it had also enabled him to face challenges and have victories that few men ever knew. And he relished that. To pretend to be anything else would be a fraud. Wake decided to wait before he answered the letter. He needed time to think.
Allen knew about the letter and sensed his friend’s quiet depression, but in the manner of warriors neither had spoken of it. It was something that would end badly either way, Allen thought, and silently wished Wake the strength to get through it.
The bright spot of the voyage from Cadiz had been that Carmena and Manuel—alias Mr. and Mrs. Sean and Useppa Rork, Irish-Hispanic vintners from Jerez—had managed to pull off the “accidentally stranded aboard” excuse to the purser and first mate. They paid for a first-class cabin—luxurious compared to Wake and Allen’s second-class cabin—and passage all the way to Genoa, and were now being treated as important guests. It appeared that their escape was proceeding well, but they still stayed in their cabin most of the day, worried that someone might recognize them. They had no plans beyond Genoa, but Wake had faith that somehow they would be able to make their way in the world and overcome what might come.
And that made him wonder about how he would solve the major dilemma of his own life.
***
The first port after Cadiz was Palma de Mallorca, in the Spanish Balearic Islands. Warships from several nations, including Great Britain, were anchored out as the steamer came alongside the pier to offload and pick up cargo and passengers.
“What do you think, should I pay my respects to them? You can come along,” offered Allen, looking at the Royal Navy sloop.
“I suppose you should, but I’m just not in the mood to go through the naval routine right now,” answered Wake, thinking of Linda.
“Yes, of course, my friend. We can do that later. Let’s go ashore for a walk and a drink.”
He went ashore in plainclothes with the Brit—who had been there several times—Allen promising to show the American the giant Cathedral de Mallorca on the harbor front and suggesting that they perhaps get a bite to eat at one of the many tavernas. “No escapades here, Peter,” promised Allen.
“Gonna have to be none, Lieutenant Allen,” answered Wake as they walked along the seaside promenade. “I used
