Napoleon's Gambit

This is an historical adventure, which blends facts and fiction. The facts are: 1) Napoleon signed the Treaty of Valençay with King Ferdinand VII of Spain, on December 11th, 1813. Its goal was to restore Ferdinand to the throne that he was forced to abdicate to Napoleon’s brother, Joseph, in 1808. 2) The Battle of Vittorio occurred on June 21st, 1813. The French were defeated by Lord Wellington and relinquished Spain. 3) Wellington’s Vittorio dispatch describes an item of French property found at the battle, as ‘a single military chest containing one hundred thousand francs in gold coins.’ 4) Sir Gabriel Hopetown Stoke commanded a division of British troops at the Battle of Vittorio. According to his memoirs, his men found ‘some money tumbrils loaded with chests,’ and looted them. 5) French records indicate that the tumbrils contained five million francs worth of gold coins. 6) The Battle of Aix Roads took place on the 11th and 12th of April, 1809. To accommodate the story, the battle was moved to June 1813, but the events leading up to the battle and the two days of the mission itself, are accurately depicted. 7) Captain Lord Thomas Cochrane was born in 1775 and died in 1860. Some of the words spoken by Thomas, Lord Mulgrave and Admirals Gambier and Harvey, in the events leading up to and during the Battle of Aix Roads, were extracted from Cochrane’s Autobiography of a Seaman. 8) Dr. James Guthrie was the surgeon and doctor aboard Captain Lord Cochrane’s ship, Impérieuse, during the battle of Aix Roads. James and Thomas were friends. 9) With one obvious exception, the technologies used on Bit-by-Bit exist today, albeit in some cases, in less sophisticated forms. The rest is fiction. Chapter One December 3, 2009 I stare out the channel to the North Atlantic. The water moves uneasily in the wind and tendrils of spray tear off each crest. Why is it that what we do defines us more than who we are? Losing my boat has shipwrecked my life. I turn from the sea and walk. It’s still cool in the shadows, but the fog has thinned and the air is crisp. Another perfect day in paradise brewing. Crossing the flinty cobblestones of the King’s Square, I sense a presence. I pause at a storefront window. Yes, there’s his reflection in the glass. Twice yesterday, and now he’s pointing that same camera at me again. He doesn’t blend. He’s tall and thin, and the baldpate above his silver fuzz looks like it’s grown a little taller than his hair. I’m lonely, but this is ridiculous. I turn and examine the square. Not many people about yet. Why would you follow someone when there’s no one to hide behind? I point at him and walk toward him. He looks startled for a moment, and then shrugs and returns the camera to its bag. He raises his head defiantly, smiles and steps forward. “Mister Rick? Mister Joshua Rick? My name is Admiral Stoke. I’m with the Royal Navy.” I stop. I thought I’d found another home in the navy, before an Admiral told me to resign. I look at this one, arrogantly spying on me, and my frustration surges. “Admiral Stoke? That’s amazing. Did your parents know you would join the navy when they named you?” His smile fades. “I’ll take that as a weak attempt at humor.” I lean closer and say, “Why are you photographing me?” Stepping back he says, “Keep your powder dry, will you? I’m here to recruit you for a mission. I’ve just completed our routine background check. You are our one in a million man. When we thought we had lost you in the storm, we tried to send out Bermudian search and rescue.” He thrusts out his hand and I shake it: weak and damp. “I already tried the navy. It didn’t work out.” Nodding, he says quickly. “We don’t care about that.” He knew. That was some background check. He leans back casually against a store window; the seams of his khaki slacks are perfectly pressed, a gold chain nestles at his shirt’s open collar, and his jacket shimmers like silk. I look away from him, at the still shuttered stores. “Thanks, but no thanks.” I turn to walk away. “We’ll pay you to build your dreamboat and then to circumnavigate it solo, no expense spared. We’ll also pay you five million dollars for your trouble, and, when the mission’s over, you can keep the boat. Interested?” I turn back and study him. I slowly shake my head. “When a deal sounds too good to be true, it always is. What’s the catch?” He smiles. “Some breakfast? We both know the storm wrecked your boat and that you had no insurance. What have you got to lose?” An Admiral doing his own spying and recruiting for a mission to build my dreamboat? “Freddie’s is just across the square,” I say, and lead the way inside its green archway. Sunshine splashes through its open shutters and the stale smell of beer, frying onions and cigarettes hangs. The Admiral strides to a table at the rear, away from the diners seated near the windows. He wedges himself into the corner seat and motions me to sit opposite. We order. I play with a puddle on the table till the coffee and toast arrives. I sip from my cup and say, “Okay, Mister. Spill the beans. What’s this mission all about?” He leans across the table and says softly. “As I said before. My name is Admiral Stoke. Please use it.” I nod. It’s his game. “Okay, Admiral Stoke. I’m going to be late for work. What could the Royal Navy possibly want me for?” He smiles. “I’ll level with you. We really do need you.” “Can I see some ID? You remind me of Cassius.” He lays a polished leather briefcase on the table-top, extracts an official ID laminated in plastic, and hands it to me: Edmund Clayton Stoke. Admiral. Portsmouth Naval Research Center. I hand the ID back. He returns it to his briefcase, slides it under the chair and raises both hands. The sleeves of his jacket fall, revealing scrawny arms. “Look, no tricks up my sleeve. You can trust me.” I laugh. “Right. What did you mean - you thought you had lost me in the storm? How long have you guys been doing this routine background check?” A lopsided grin slides across his jaw. His mouth works, as if he’s arguing with himself. Finally he squares his shoulders and says, “Well, old boy, in point of fact, about six months.” I sit up in amazement. My cheeks flush. What was I doing, while these guys spied on me? Half a year! If I hadn’t seen the effort it cost Cassius to tell the truth, I wouldn’t have believed it. I glance at him, elegantly upright in his chair. He laughs smugly. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with us.” I sit back slowly. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, then?” He nods. Scans the room and leans in to say quietly. “As I said. We want you to circumnavigate in your dreamboat. Only without using fossil fuels. Can you?” I stare at him. “The Royal Navy wants me to do this, or you? Why is this so important that they sent you instead of a -,” I trail off, unsure of the appropriate rank for recruiting me. He smiles. “A woman? I thought of the perfect one, too. But we digress. Can you sail around on your own without using fossil fuels?” “Why did the Navy send an Admiral to recruit a sailor?” He chuckles. “Usually, old boy, you would be right. But this mission is of vital importance. I want to handle this myself – make sure we get the right man for the job. So let me ask again. Can you do it? Sail around with no fossil fuels on board?” I shrug. “Why do you want me to sail around?” He shakes his head. “We’ll get to the why in due course. Answer the question. Can you survive at sea for a year with no fossil fuels on board?” “No fossil fuels? Not even propane for cooking?” “Yes. No fossil fuels allowed on board.” “I’m not sure. It takes a great deal of electricity to run a fossil-free boat.” “But they used to do it, did they not; the Romans, Phoenicians, the Royal Navy? Perhaps not round the world, but for long periods of time. Why can’t you?” “They used coal for cooking and oil for lighting. And those guys didn’t sail solo. I have to sleep and without electricity, no one’s in charge. An unlit boat with