CHAPTER 13
GERMAN OCEAN, MAY 1827
I stared ahead, where an ugly line of breakers marked the shifting sand-banks that marked the entrance to the Firth of Tay, and which the local pilot was endeavouring to steer us around. Admiral Duncan dipped her nose, shipping green water that rushed the length of the deck, soaking my feet and ankles, before hissing out through the scuppers, then rose again as we approached the open sea. Ahead of us, the pilot was rowing like a madman, shouting orders to Captain Jackman, who translated for the benefit of the bearded helmsman.
I stood, feeling very lonely and out of place as Admiral Duncan eased out of the Firth of Tay and into the German Ocean. I knew I had no right to be there, I knew I was in the way, and I dreaded what Kenny might have to say about
