“Release the lines . . . push off,” David roars. He doesn’t feel as confident as he sounds. He’s totally faking it. He wonders why they put a twelve-year-old American landlubber in charge of a dozen sailors to ferry Admiral Nelson from the HMS Victory to the HMS Britannia? If they knew that just two weeks earlier he was 200 years in the future, concerned only with sleeping in, playing video games and watching TV, there’s no way they could expect great things of him. Worse, his ship mates are champing at the bit to do battle with the combined French and Spanish fleet. Not David, he just wants to go home, but until then he’s got to survive.
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