Storiesonline.net ------- In the Navy by Argon Copyright© 2005/2009 to Argon ------- Description: The story of a young officer, Anthony Carter, in the British Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. Inspired by the novels by C.S. Forester. Codes: MF FF hist rom cons rape les het oral anal pett ------- ------- Book 1 ------- Preface This story was inspired by the seafaring novels of C.S. Forester and C.N. Parkinson. I admit that I even stole a few characters from Forester's books "Lieutenant Hornblower" and "Hornblower and the Hotspur". None of these people really lived, with the exception of historic figures, e.g. Sir John Jervis, 1st Earl of St. Vincent, and to use some of Forester's fictitious characters in the framework of these stories was meant as an acknowledgement and tribute to the finely crafted novels on this author. There are also some fine accounts on the Napoleonic Wars that I was able to access on the internet, on wikipedia and other sources, and I am very grateful to all the people who provide such wealth of historical information for free. ITN was my first effort at writing fiction. Book 1 was posted in 2005 without the help of an editor, and that showed, in particular in the first seven or eight chapters. In 2007, I did a clean-up, to correct the most blatant errors, but I lost steam after Chapter 8. Now that Book 2 is in the offing, I was able to enlist the help of Duffiedawg who rolled up his sleeves and cleaned up the entire story. Copyright 2005, 2009 by Argon Enjoy! ------- Chapter 1: Second Mate The small two-masted schooner Anne Mary was set on a westward course, crossing the Caribbean Sea and heading towards the Spanish Main. She was a British merchantman out of Kingston, Jamaica. Flying over her national colours, she was also showing a White Flag, as she was sailing under a flag of truce. Her captain had been hired by the British Commander in Chief in Kingston, Admiral Sir Richard Lambert, to pick up his wife and children in Porto Bello. A Spanish privateer had captured the post packet carrying Lady Lambert and her children on its way from England to Jamaica and had brought her into Porto Bello. The Spanish, ever the gentlemen, had sent word to the British Admiral to have his family picked up. Of course, they figured that any British navy vessel, sailing for Porto Bello, was out of action for a few weeks insofar as the war between England and Spain was concerned. Rather than weakening his forces, Sir Robert Lambert had rather hired a trading vessel to perform the task. Captain John Carter had been happy to oblige. In this year 1796, the big European war between revolutionary France with its allies and England had already severely affected the trade between the Caribbean islands, and freight was hard to find for the master-owner of the Anne Mary. Captain Carter watched his son, Anthony, who was supervising the setting of a stay sail. Appointing his son to second mate of the Anne Mary had been a smart move. The lad, barely 18 years of age, was a fine navigator already and a born and bred sailor. Also, Captain Carter was cutting costs this way, an added boon in these hard times. "Land ho!", came a cry from the masthead. Instantly, Anthony Carter jumped into the rigging and climbed up, carrying a large brass telescope. Steadying himself, he directed the telescope towards the horizon where a minute speck of something had appeared. It was the Spanish Main, all right, he thought; the coast line matched their expectations. They had hit Porto Bello in the first attempt, a nice feat of navigation, he thought smugly. His father would be happy. The sooner they arrived at Porto Bello, the faster they could get out to sea again. It was not a landfall Anthony was looking forward to. Porto Bello, in spite of its name, was a hellhole. Epidemics of yellow fever, el vomito negro, were frequent and decimated the population. Moreover, entering a Spanish port in a British ship and not being Catholic was a risk in itself, even in peace times, due to the still virulent Spanish Inquisition. He climbed down and faced his father. "If the wind holds, we can reach the port before sunset, father", he said. "That is, if the Dons let us enter." "They know me, I've been here before", his father replied. "Always got along with them." And so, in the last light of the day, the Anne Mary crept into her anchorage. Captain Carter hurried into his little quarter boat and was rowed across the harbour to the residence of the harbour captain. There, he stated his business, while the crew of the Anne Mary settled down for the night. Captain Carter returned only after several hours, chuckling to himself. "The Dons are pissed royally that the Admiral's family is not picked up by a regular man o'war," he told his son. "But the good governor doesn't fancy at all having a family of heretics in his house for another month. He agreed to have them ferried out to us by six bells. We can get the morning tide to leave this stinking swamp. We'll have to clear my cabin for our guests, though. See to it, Anthony!" With this, Captain Carter turned in and left Tony with yet another task. ------- Six bells sounded, and Anthony jumped from his cot. He had turned in after having the first watch, and had slept for three undisturbed hours, a rare pleasure. He quickly washed his face with salt water and dragged a comb through his bleached, blonde hair, tying it in a neat queue. He wanted to make a good impression on their passengers when they came aboard, so be bent over his sea chest and dragged out a fresh pair of trousers and a clean shirt. Having made himself respectable, he climbed on deck and joined his father and Joseph Fournier, the first mate, as they were gazing toward the town. A longboat had just left the quay and was heading towards the Anne Mary. There were red uniforms in it, laced with gold tresses which blinked in the sun. Spanish Officers, escorting their "guests". The boat came alongside, and the next problem arose. The Anne Mary did not ship a boatswain's chair to hoist passengers on deck. However, neither Lady Lambert nor her children had ever climbed up a Jacob's ladder to board a ship. They did not dare to jump for the ladder to climb up the side, and the Spanish officers were landlubbers and at a loss themselves. It was a funny sort of a stand off. In the end, Anthony climbed down into the boat to assist the ladies. When he looked at them, his mouth fell agape. He was accustomed to the dark beauties of the West Indian islands. As the son of a lowly merchant captain, the fair haired daughters of the planters and the senior officers had always been beyond his reach, even his dreams. Thus, the sight of Lady Lambert and her daughter was like a revelation to young Tony. The mother was a rather tall, slender woman with straw blonde hair. Her fair complexion contrasted with the dark dress she was wearing. Her even features, and her slender but womanly form made a strong impression on the young second mate. But the daughter! Anthony could not help but stare at her. She was perhaps sixteen years of age, and she was close in height to her mother and as slender. Her hair was of an incredible strawberry blond colouring, and her emerald green eyes contrasted with a milk white skin covered with freckles. He did not notice the son, blond like his mother, who was standing beside the ladies. It was the lad, however, who spoke to him first. "How do we get on board your ship? My mother and sister are not accustomed to a Jacob's ladder." Anthony tried to get his wits together. "I shall assist you, Ladies," he started. "I am Anthony Carter, second mate, at your service." The two women hardly acknowledged him at first, but Anthony managed to coax both of them up the ladder. The young lad climbed up without help or difficulties, and Anthony followed them. While the Spanish boat crew handed the luggage to the Anne Mary's crew, a Spanish officer climbed after Anthony and, with great pomp, bid his farewell to the ladies. After he had left the ship, Captain Carter stepped forward, greeted his passengers and led them to their accommodations in the main cabin. While Lady Lambert and her son, after a short despairing look around, settled into their new surroundings without lament, the girl was indignant. "Are we supposed to sleep in this rat hole? Why did we have to leave London, Mother? I hate it here. No man of any consequence is to be found here, either. And this climate, it will ruin my skin!" She almost stomped with fury. Obviously, she did not travel out of free will to meet her father. "Be quiet, Harriet!" her mother returned sternly. "This is an English ship, and it will bring us to your father. And to say that there is no man of consequence in West India. What nonsense! Don't you know how rich those sugar barons are? And there are many of England's finest serving in the Navy. If you won't find a husband here, it will be because of your temper, young lady." With the skylight of the cabin open, every word could be heard on deck, where the crew was preparing to weigh anchor. Captain Carter screwed his eyes upwards and shrugged his shoulders as if to comment on the exchange going on in the cabin. The voice of the boy could be heard: "I like this. Sailing in this small ship will be more interesting. She has fore and aft rigging, and I never sailed in a schooner before." The girls voice cut in: "Cannot you stop this sailor's talk for one minute, Andrew? I have no interest in it, really." "May I go on deck, Mother?" the boy asked in a resigned voice. "Yes, of course, dear. But ask the Captain first and keep out the men's way." The boy came on deck and walked aft. He even touched his hat before he addressed Captain Carter and asked him whether he might stay on deck. The Captain chuckled and nodded towards Anthony, indicating that the second mate should look after the boy. "Stand over here at the taffrail, young man. You can see everything and nobody will run you over." The lad gladly took the position at the taffrail and looked around curiously. When the Anne Mary took sail and headed out of the harbour, the boy asked Tony questions about everything. Obviously, the boy worshipped his admiral father and aspired nothing more than to become a naval officer himself. Tony did not mind the boy's questions. It was nice to be in the teaching position for once and, in contrast to his sister, the boy was pleasant. After a week of uneventful sailing, the Anne Mary was still on an eastbound course, but the progress they made did not satisfy her captain. The wind was dying down and it was incredibly hot for this early morning. At the same time, the waves were growing higher and with wider troughs. Captain Carter consulted with the barometer, and his worries increased. "Barometer's dropping even more, and look at those waves! Odds are, we're in for a big storm, a hurricane," he informed his two mates. "We had better clear the ship for heavy weather. Change course for south-east. Mayhap, we can escape its path to the south, although with that pittance of a breeze, we shan't make much way." "What about our passengers, father?" Tony Carter asked. "We'll have to secure everything in the main cabin, and they have to be prepared." "Good thinking, my son. You go down and see to it." So, a few moments later, Tony Carter knocked on the door of the main cabin. There was a mumble of voices before Lady Lambert's voice was heard "Yes?" When Tony entered the cabin, it was evident that the ladies had thrown on their clothes in a big hurry. The girl was only wearing a light cape over what Tony thought was her underwear. He even saw her lower legs and her bare feet and it required some willpower to take his look away from them. When his look went higher, it met the indignant glare of the girl. But Tony, young as he was, had had his share of furious looks from women and it did not trouble him all too much. It was her own fault if she showed him her goods, and he returned her stare with a conspiratorial twinkle of his eye. The Honourable Harriet was livid now. The outrage! He was but a lowly sea dog and dared to stare at her legs and twinkle at her. Yet, his twinkle also affected her in another region of her body. Harriet felt a tingle in her tummy and through some backdoor of her brain, unholy thoughts crept into her mind. The young second mate was tall, over six feet, and with wide shoulders. His blond hair was clean and his sunburnt features were even. He was a good looking lad. It might be fun toying with the young man, she thought. She tried to erase that thought, but her conflicting thoughts must have been evident on her face, because the young man grinned openly at her. For a second, she wanted to kill him there and then, but then she could not help but giggle at her own stupidity. Her mother's voice stopped the interlude. "What is it that you wanted to tell us, Mr. Porter?" Tony answered. "It's Carter, your ladyship. And I came to warn you that we expect heavy weather. The glass has been dropping for nigh on twelve hours, and it won't stop. We are clearing the ship for a heavy storm now, and we need to secure the cabin, too." "Is a hurricane approaching?" the boy asked with gleaming eyes. He had heard so much of those murderous cyclones. "Let's hope not," Tony replied. "Not if we want to talk about it afterwards. If it gets really bad, I will have to take you up on deck and secure you to the main mast. Please make sure that you wear no encumbering clothes. Wear sturdy dresses, or the wind will tear them to shreds. My men will be here in ten minutes, to secure the cabin. Please be ready by then." With a last encouraging smile to the young people, he left the cabin to join the efforts readying the tiny Anne Mary for the horrors of a hurricane. Her movements were sickening, for in the increasing rollers she was tossed about almost without steerage. Even after the wind began to pick up, they had to wait for another five nerve racking hours, before the first bolt of lightning flashed from a now dark grey sky, and hell broke loose around them. The small vessel had problems climbing up the huge rollers. Racing down their backsides was even more dangerous, as there was the constant worry that they might undercut with their bow in the trough between the waves. Old Joseph Fournier, the first mate, was the first victim of the raging sea. He was trying to fight his way back to the steering wheel, when a huge wave swept over the main deck and washed him away. His shipmates, if they saw it, could only watch in helpless horror. Then Captain Carter was caught by a wave, too. He had secured himself to the sturdy taffrail, but when he fell, he was knocked unconscious. Tony saw it but he could not help his father. The ship was rolling madly on the seas, and what little canvas was exposed to the wind, had already been torn to shreds. In consequence, the ship was not approaching the waves head on but was tumbling sideways, constantly in peril of capsizing. The situation was extremely dangerous, and Tony realised he had to do something. Grabbing an axe and making sure he still had his knife, he made his way forward, using the intervals between the crashing waves. He reached the weather shrouds of the foremast and began hacking away at the tough, tarred, cordage until the shrouds gave way and the foremast broke off, eight feet above the deck. Trailing by the starboard shrouds, the foremast now served as a sea anchor to keep the little ship's bow to the waves, marginally increasing their slim chances of survival. Tony made his way back, and he realised that the movements of the ship were heavy. They had already sprung a leak, he realised. Damn it, the passengers were still in the main cabin! Carefully choosing a moment when the deck was not completely flooded, he opened the cockpit and make his way to the little cabin. The cabin was in surprisingly good order, but the passengers were close to panic, having been thrown about in the dark for more than two hours. "I have to bring you out on the deck", he shouted over the howling of the storm. "There's no way to tell how long the ship can take this. Follow me!" He managed to bring all three of them on deck. With ropes, he secured them to the sturdy stump of the mainmast. It, too, had succumbed to the power of the hurricane, but there were twenty feet left of it. The little ship was low in the water now, and the waves washed constantly over its deck. It was clear that she was sinking. Tony made his way over to his father, but one glance told him that the old man was dead. His head had been crushed when a wave smashed him against the taffrail. He would go down with the Anne Mary as befitted her captain. Tony had little time to spare for his grief. His own survival and that of his charges depended on cool headed decisions. He mustered what little was left of the crew: two sailors and a boy. Luckily, the storm was already weakening. The waves were still going high, but their force was abating. There was a small chance of survival. Empty kegs were fastened underneath the thwarts of their remaining longboat. Water kegs hopefully not spoiled by sea water were also brought to the boat, as well as some ship's biscuit in a tin-lined box. Two bottles of brandy from the captain's stores and a net of coconuts completed what little provisions they could assemble in their hurry. When they were finished with their preparations, they climbed into the boat and soon, a larger wave swept them off the sinking ship. Fortunately, it was a sturdy longboat that easily accommodated three grown men, two boys and two women. They used the oars sparingly to steer the boat against the high rollers and watched silently as the Anne Mary sank before their eyes. The sailors had tears in their eyes and sympathised with the eighteen-year-old second mate who had just lost everything. After a few moments, however, Tony snapped from his despair and began to organise his charge. He ordered the two women to stay in the stern sheets. Then, the men prepared a sea anchor, using two oars tied together at a right angle. This served to keep the longboat with its bow against the still enormous rollers. Next, Tony set two watches with an able seaman and one of the boys each; the sailor to keep watch, and the boy to keg out what water accumulated in the bilge of the longboat. The rest of the crew and the women huddled together in the stern sheets under a tarpaulin that protected them partly from the spray that still drenched the boat constantly. Andrew Lambert had the first watch, and he diligently saw to it that the water in the bilge did not rise over the floor boards while one of the sailors watched out for signs of land or of other ships that might still be afloat after the hurricane. Meanwhile, Harriet Lambert was half sitting at her mother's side, her head resting on the older woman's shoulder and trying to minimise the physical contact with the men who, like her, were squatting under the tarpaulin. It was difficult, though, because the jerking movements of the little boat tossed her from side to side. On one side was her mother, on the other side was the disconcerting presence of Tony Carter. He was only partly covered by the tarpaulin because he kept vigil, but Harriet found her buttocks pressed against his thigh whenever the boat was tilted to the starboard side. Tony, too, felt the presence of the young woman close to his own body, but his mind was in too much of a turmoil to take more than fleeting notice. The people in the boat drifted into a half-slumber, but Harriet did not even have this comfort. Her body was cramped with the constant effort to keep her body away from the young man to her right. At long last she relented and relaxed, letting her body swing with the motions of the boat. After a while, she too, dozed off, only to be awakened by low murmuring and shuffling when the watch changed. Andrew dropped into the stern sheets to the left of his mother. Lady Lambert turned left, to comfort her younger child who was chilled to the bone after a long watch. Harriet shifted to find a new position and quickly dozed off again. She slept better now, more relaxed, and when she awoke, she felt refreshed. Then she gave a start and almost jumped up. She must have moved in her sleep because she found herself cuddled against the chest of Tony Carter. Tony had been dozing, too, and her sudden movement awoke him. "I am most sorry," she stammered trying to regain her dignity. "I must have fallen asleep." "Don't worry, Miss Lambert, I shan't tell anyone," came the reply from the dark shadow to her right. "There isn't anything, really, to talk about, is there?" she answered snippily. "Of course not, Miss. Believe me, I have other thoughts on my mind." She flushed with embarrassment. She had completely forgotten what the young second mate had suffered. "Please excuse my temper," she asked nicely, "and please accept my sympathies for your loss. This must be very hard for you." "Yes, it is. I mean, for my father, this was the way he would have wanted to go. But for me, it's just awfully hard. Not just his death, but also the responsibility for you and your family." "What will you do when we reach a harbour?" "I will have to look for a berth on another ship as a mate" replied Tony. "With the war and all, a lot of mates now serve in the Royal Navy, as master's mates. I should not find it hard to find employment." "My mother will speak for you with my father, I am sure. He may be able to help, seeing that he is commander in chief." "If I do not get you and your mother and brother to Port of Spain safely, he will lay open my backbone," Tony said in a faint attempt at humour. "Shall we make it to Port of Spain?" the girl asked, suddenly acutely aware of the danger they were in. "I cannot make a promise," Tony replied sombrely. "The wind's moderated and we can set sail with the first light. With a fair wind, we should reach Jamaica in two days. We may also be found by another ship before that. Why don't you try to find some more sleep, Miss Lambert; you will need your strength." They both settled into as comfortable a position as they could devise in the longboat. Although Harriet again found herself resting against Tony Carter, she decided she could not help it and resigned herself to the fact. They had dozed for another hour when a faint light was visible in the eastern sky. The sailor on watch alerted the second mate, and soon the small crew of the longboat sprang into a brief activity, raising the mast and setting the sails. Tony Carter satisfied himself that the eastern bearing of boat compass and the rising sun were in good alignment, and then he set an eastward course. Within half an hour, the sun began to beat down upon them, and in short time, their clothes and other belongings dried. While the longboat steadied on its eastward course, the crew inspected their provisions. Fortunately and most importantly, the two 6 gallon kegs of drinking water were undamaged. Tony allotted rations of two pints per day, allowing an extra pint for the two women and the boy. Andrew Lambert indignantly refused to draw extra rations, but the women gratefully accepted. Tony advised everyone to drink slowly lest they would induce even more sweating and loss of water. The wind was steady, they were making good way under sail and the spirits of the survivors of the Anne Mary were rising. Later in the day, a squall of heavy rain drenched the boat, providing everyone on board with a welcome deluge of fresh water. The women ripped some of their underskirts down, to catch the rain, and wrung the fresh water from the cloth into their mouths. This improved the mood on board even more. In the evening, after doling out small rations of ship's biscuit, Tony treated everyone to a sip of brandy. After that, watches were detailed, and the men and women settled down for another night, while the boat followed its eastbound course, driven by a gentle night breeze. Again, Harriet Lambert found herself seated between her mother and Tony Carter, who handled the steering. She felt uncomfortable as her clothes had not completely dried after the last rainfall. Pretty soon, she began to shiver in the cool night air. Noticing this, Tony Carter offered her his pea jacket, and the girl gratefully accepted the warmth of the garment. She drifted off to sleep, and when she awoke, she felt oddly at ease and comfortable. Waking up fully, she gave a little start. She was resting against the chest of Tony Carter. He, in turn, had put one arm around her shoulder to comfort her. Her first impulse was to shake him off, but then she recalled the comfort she had just felt. Against her will, the young second mate had impressed her during the day. The way he handled the situation with calm determination reminded her strongly of the aura of authority that surrounded her father. She had to concede that she felt good lying in his arms. She stirred a little and cuddled even more into his chest, and after a few minutes in this new position she surprised herself when she put her own hands on the hand that rested on her shoulder. She held her breath when his face touched the top of her head in response, slightly nuzzling her hair. Nothing else happened though, and young Harriet relaxed. Sleep, however, did not come to her. Instead, she tried to sort out her emotions. There she was, a young lady, the daughter of a baronet and commander in chief, and she felt attracted to the son of an obscure ship owner. She knew that there was no future in such a foolhardy relationship. And yet, she felt sure that this young man would make his way, whichever path he decided to take. In the end, Harriet decided that she simply liked and even respected the young second mate. Interestingly, Lady Lambert's thoughts were taking a similar course. Feigning sleep, she was well aware of the developing intimacy between her daughter and the handsome young man. She was, however, acutely aware of their precarious situation. If this little interlude served to calm down Harriet and gave her more confidence, this was fine. Besides, nothing serious could develop in an 18-foot longboat. Once they reached Kingston, Harriet would soon be out of reach for the young man. Nevertheless, Eleanor Lambert was impressed with Anthony Carter. She had met numerous naval officers, including the famed Captain Horatio Nelson, and she had seen a few of them under pressure as well. The young man seemed to be cut from the same material. She would certainly see to it that her husband would learn about the young man's conduct. Perhaps, she could help to start a brilliant naval career. At the very least, she could repay him for his devotion towards the safety and well being of his passengers. In the meantime, however, she had to see to it that Harriet did not get carried away too much. Anthony Carter felt a mix of strange emotions, holding the lovely girl in his arm. He knew perfectly well that he was risking a lot with his quiet advances. Yet the attraction he felt was equally strong. It was not just the physical beauty of Harriet Lambert; after all he had met many beautiful girls on the islands. But the grudging way that she let her emotions overturn her inbred prejudices, the turmoil she displayed when fighting her arrogance and temper, all this endeared her to him. "You are beautiful", he whispered into her ear. Seeing a smile fleeting across her face in the faint light of a cloud covered moon, he planted a light kiss on her ear, and he felt her sharp intake of breath. But she did not stiffen against his touch; she rather melted against him. Nibbling on her ear, whispering compliments, he deliberately drove her into a state of arousal that she had not experienced before. It was as if they had detached themselves from the little crowded boat and the other passengers. For the moment, they simply were in a parallel universe where everything seemed possible. Tony held his breath when her hand pulled his own hand from her shoulder under the cover of the pea jacket and onto the soft swell of her bosom. Still nibbling on her ear, he caressed the softness of her breast and he felt her breathing becoming laboured. Throwing all caution to the wind, he let his hand wander lower on her body, over her taut belly that rippled with excitement, down to where her legs joined. There was no way he could lift her skirt without blowing their cover. Therefore, Tony restricted himself to rubbing her mound through the garment. Harriet had opened her legs slightly to allow access to her most intimate body parts, and her suppressed moans gave evidence to her state of arousal. The outrageousness of the situation added to her pleasure, and after a few minutes, she felt a tingle flushing over her, originating in her pussy and spreading over her entire body, leaving her shaken and limp in Tony Carter's arm. Harriet felt rather than heard the little self-satisfied chuckle he gave, but for her life, she could not get mad at him anymore. He kissed her head once more, extracted his hand from between her clutched thighs and resumed the innocent embrace of her shoulders. Harriet felt a bliss she had never known. True, she had been playing with her fanny before and had aroused herself to heights of pleasure, but this was the first time another person had touched that chord. She screwed her head around to look at Tony's face, but she could barely make out his features in the faint light. Satisfying herself that her mother and brother were both asleep, and knowing that no one else could see her, she quickly turned and planted her lips on Tony's mouth. Sweet madness! From the moment their lips touched, Harriet was lost in that kiss. Her lips opened and Tony's tongue snaked into her mouth. Her own tongue duelled with the invader, and when it retreated, she in turn explored the young man's mouth. After what seemed to her like a quarter hour, but what had been just a minute, they separated. Sighing contentedly, she resumed her resting position against his chest. His hand on her shoulder caressed her almost imperceptibly, and Harriet Lambert dozed off. An hour later, the cloud cover opened, and the moon bathed the sea in its pale light. Lady Lambert woke up and looked around. The sight of her daughter, blissfully asleep against the young man's chest, his arm protectively around her shoulder, gave her a small start. But when the young man looked up and met her gaze, she just gave him a small nod and a smile. Raising a fuss now would not only destabilise the order in the boat, but would seriously imperil her daughter's reputation. Two hours later, after the short tropical dawn, the sun rose brilliantly over the horizon and the crew of the longboat started the day with a scant breakfast of ship's biscuit and water. Harriet had extricated herself from Anthony's embrace. She still felt a wetness between her legs that reminded her of her nightly indiscretion. When Anthony handed her her bread ration, she deliberately let her hand rest on his for a moment and smiled gratefully. He acknowledged her smile with a wink of his eye. After breakfast, Tony showed his consideration for the female passengers. He had the sail rearranged so that it provided privacy for the women, and they took the opportunity to empty their bowels and bladders over the side of the boat. The men did likewise in the front of the boat and used sea water to clean themselves. When everyone had restored their decency, the sail was set again and the longboat continued its course towards Jamaica. They were lucky that the steady gentle breeze favoured them, and the boat made good progress. It was late afternoon, therefore, when the lookout yelled "Land ho!". The crew jumped up excitedly, hugging each other. So did the passengers, and Harriet Lambert made a point of giving Anthony Carter a grateful hug as well, whispering "Thank you for everything!" in his ear. Before darkness came, they sighted a patrolling English sloop of war. After he identified himself and his passengers, Tony, his passengers and his crew were taken on board. The lieutenant commanding the sloop sailed back straight to Kingston Harbour, and shortly after midnight, an elated Admiral Lambert embraced his wife and children at the pier. Lady Lambert made a point presenting Anthony Carter to her husband and praised his conduct. The Admiral was eager to bring his family into the Admiralty House, but he took time to thank Anthony and invited him to tea for the next afternoon. Both Andrew and Harriet said their farewell to him, too, and Harriet had to suppress a giggle when Anthony kissed her hand ceremoniously. The next morning Anthony set out to his father's house to claim his inheritance. Next, he visited a sombre-looking gentleman, Master Edward Rawling, attorney at law. The solicitor informed Anthony that he had been entrusted with the care of the late Captain Carter's documents. Among other items, there was an insurance policy for the Anne Mary and her cargo. Anthony could claim the fair value of the vessel and the personal belongings that were lost in the wreck. This amounted to over three thousand pound sterling, and Mr. Rawling offered his assistance with the necessary paperwork. There were also capital investments his father had made. Tony had never known that his father was actually quite well off. Tony was now a major share holder in a small shipping company that his father had set up with various partners. He therefore set out to meet the managing partner of that consortium to make it known that his father had perished on the sea. Mr. Whitney, the managing partner, expressed his sympathy. He was delighted to hear that Tony would not withdraw his investment. He made it clear that a major share holder of Tony's qualification would be entitled to the command of one of their vessels as soon as an opening presented itself. Tony expressed his interest, and Mr. Whitney promised to contact him as soon as an opportunity arose. After Tony left, he was facing the task of making himself representable for tea at the Admiralty House. He would see Harriet Lambert again, in all likelihood, and that thought worried and elated him at the same time. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 2: Midshipman Carter Tony arrived at Admiralty House on time, wearing white breeches, buckled shoes, and a blue coat, the usual attire of a merchant navy officer. He expected to be ushered in and out for a brief 'thank you' and the settlement of the fare for his passengers. Instead, the admiral ushered him into a small dining room where the whole family waited for him. The tea was served and a friendly conversation ensued. Admiral Lambert satisfied himself that the young man had had a decent schooling, even spoke some French, Spanish, and Dutch, and showed good manners. Lady Lambert had sung the young man's praise, and Sir Richard had to agree with his wife. When the ladies retired to their rooms to prepare for dinner, Sir Richard came to the point. "See here, young man, what are your plans now?" "I have inherited a major share in the shipping company of Whitney and Cº from my father. There may be a chance for me to command one of their ships, Sir Richard." "Would you be interested in joining the Royal Navy? From what I have seen and heard, you are a very promising young man. Why waste such talent shipping molasses around these islands? If you agree, I can post you as midshipman. Captain Fanning of Medusa frigate has a vacancy. He's an excellent officer, and Medusa will leave shortly on patrol duty." Anthony hesitated only briefly. All of a sudden, a new world was open to him. A world of gold embroidered uniforms and beautiful women. A world in which he could find himself a place. A world in which red-haired young women of good family could find him acceptable. Showing the appropriate amount of gratitude, he accepted Sir Richard's offer, and the Admiral showed his satisfaction. A written order was made out for Anthony to report to Captain Fanning. In addition, Admiral Lambert gave him a letter of recommendation. With the fare he had collected from the Admiral, Anthony started out the next morning to purchase a new sea chest and midshipman's uniforms. Mr. Rawling had also seen to it that he received an advance payment on the insurance money. The rest of that money would be paid into an account with a local bank house, recommended by Mr. Rawling. Next, Tony had to make arrangements for a neighbour to look after his father's house. He planned to keep it for the times when he would be in harbour. When all these preparations were finished three days later, Tony reported to Captain Fanning in the after cabin of HMS Medusa. Captain Fanning was a lightly built, shrewd man. After reading the Admiral's order and the letter of recommendation, he knew that the new midshipman was his commander in chief's protégé. Accordingly, he welcomed him on board and introduced him to his immediate superior, the sailing master. That worthy individual, Mr. Boyle, was a grizzled veteran of more than fifty years, but his clear blue eyes belied his age. Anthony felt instinctive respect for this veteran. "Have your dunnage stowed in the gun room, and report on deck for the afternoon watch," Boyle wheezed. His voice had been destroyed in forty years of shouting against gales. A boy carried his sea chest down the hatchways, from the spar deck to the gun deck and further down to the orlop deck, and then amidships to the gun room. A smoking tallow lantern spread its weak light over a narrow room. Tony sighed. There were no cots, only hooks where he could sling a hammock. Two children's faces looked at him from the raw table in the centre of the room. "Good day, gentlemen," he addressed them. "Anthony Carter, midshipman, at your service." The two boys mumbled their names and continued to stare at him. "Don't bother with those children!" a strong voice came from one of the hammocks. "Peter Brock, master's mate! You saw Daniel Swenson on deck? He's master mate, too. I heard you were second mate in a schooner?" "Yes, for the last two years." "Thank god for a sailor. But you're midshipman?" "That's how Sir Richard rated me." "You know the big man?" "I was able to do him a service. Our ship was lost in the hurricane, and my father was killed. But I was able to bring the Admiral's family to safety." "You were on the Anne Mary? It's good to have you on board, mate!" "Thank you for the welcome, mate." They shook hands. The two midshipmen stepped forward too, to offer their hands. "By the way, who is the gun room purser? I suppose you'll need my contribution." "I am, and yes, we could use some additional food stores and maybe more ale." They were a small group in the gun room, three midshipmen and two master's mates. Tony was in a good position, rated as midshipman, but he was also recognised as experienced sailor by the two master's mates. The two midshipmen were shy boys of sixteen who had come on board only recently. The two senior midshipmen had just left the ship when they passed their exams for lieutenant. Over the next days, the Medusa made ready for sea, and Anthony became very busy, learning his new duties. Fortunately, as a warrant officer, he was entitled to shore leave. Thus, on the last day in harbour, he made a tour through the familiar establishments of Kingston. He met a few acquaintances and friends of his father's who expressed their sympathy and their surprise that he had joined the Royal Navy. Later this evening he drifted into The Blue Posts, one of the better harbour brothels in Kingston. It was a place frequented by warrant officers and merchant navy mates. Anthony had been there before, and he knew he had to relieve his needs before he went out to sea again. Being a young, handsome man, the girls flocked around him instantaneously. Looking around to make his pick, he glimpsed a girl in the background who stood there, somewhat shyly. He held his breath for a moment. She was a slender girl of no more than 17 or 18 years, with reddish hue in her blond curls and a trim figure. Forgetting the other girls around him, he approached her. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and pride, and Tony sensed that she was not yet a seasoned veteran of her trade. "Hello my lovely. Pray, what is your name?" he asked her. "Me name's Rosy" she answered in so low a voice he could hardly understand her. "And would you be willing to give a poor sailor a little love, Rosy?" She nodded. "You have to pay a sovereign to Master Phillips for the room," she stated. "And I'll have five shillings if it pleases you." "So much beauty for such a pittance," Tony quipped, eliciting a blush on the girl's face. He took the girl's hand and walked over to the bar. He gave the innkeeper a sovereign and the order to be roused by eight bells in the morning. That left him five hours with the girl. When they reached their allotted room, he gave her another sovereign up front. She showed her surprise, not being used to such generosity. "What do you want me to do?" she asked with some apprehension. "I want you to undress. I want you to be naked. And I want you to open your hair." Hesitantly, the girl complied. She felt awkward, undressing before a man's eyes. When she was naked, she reached up and untied her hair, offering the glorious view of her reddish blonde tresses cascading over her shoulders. Tony approached her, put his hands on her shoulder and drew her near. "You are very beautiful, do you know that?" He kissed her, first her mouth, then her throat, and he felt her shiver under his touch. After he had his fill kissing her neck, he led her to the cot and made her lie down. Quickly taking off his clothes, he joined her on the bed and resumed his kissing. Her small pointy breasts were his next target, and her laboured breathing told him of her arousal. "Have you ever kissed a man's organ?" he asked her gently. Rosy looked at him and nodded, yes. While Tony lay on his side, she slid down and took his turgid member into her slender hand. She licked the head as if tasting it, and it jerked in her hand. She kissed the tip of the penis in her hand and then slid her lips over it, applying gentle suction. She then swirled her tongue around the tip and pumped the shaft with her hand. She felt the urgency in his movements, felt the approaching release and intensified the suction of her mouth. With a sobbing sound, Anthony gave his passion free rein and emptied himself into the girl's mouth. All through his ejaculation she kept up the suction and the gentle caresses of her tongue, and her swallowing movements added to his delight. When he was spent, she released his softening member and looked up at him. "Was I good?" "You were perfect, Rosy. Now come up." Rosy moved her body up and put her head on his breast. For a while, they just lay there in a peaceful embrace. Then Tony began to fondle her breasts again, sucking on her nipples and caressing her stomach with his hand. When his hand began to explore her pubes, Rosy put her hand on his tumescent penis and stroked it to hardness. Then she slid her leg over Tony's groin and assumed a riding position. She positioned his fully engorged member at the entrance of her fanny and slowly impaled herself on it. When she had fully engulfed his penis and her cunt lips were resting on his groin, she began a slow grinding motion. Her clitoris was tickled by his ample pubic hair, and she quickened her pace. When his hands tweaked her nipples, a bolt of lust flashed through her, and she began to fuck him in earnest. Her movements were met by his upward thrusts, and soon they were both approaching the peak. With a hoarse cry, Tony thrust his penis deep inside the girl, all the while holding her down by her hips. The girl let out a piercing wail as her own climax hit her. For a full two minutes, they remained pressed together while their sensual overload slowly subsided. "This was unbelievable, Rosy," Tony managed to say after a while. "Yes, it was, wasn't it," the girl sighed. "You made me feel good, too. I really should not take your money." "Oh yes, you should. Just consider it a gift, not a payment. This night will give me enough to dream about during my next voyage." "When do you have to leave?" "I have to be back on board at 4 bells in the morning watch. We'll weigh anchor with the morning tide." "Will you ever come back here?" the girl asked. "I promise, I shall be back. Next time, I may take you out of this place for a few days." He bent over the bed and kissed her. "That would be nice. I'll wait for you." She smiled up at him while he dressed methodically. When he was ready, Rosy got up and hugged him for a moment. "You be careful out there," she said and shoved him out into the dimly lit corridor. An hour later, Tony reported back for duty, worn out but thoroughly satisfied. The next weeks and months were immensely taxing on young Anthony Carter. Not only was the sailing of a square rigged frigate entirely different from the fore and aft rigging he was accustomed to. He also had to learn the military side of his profession, gunnery and tactical sailing. And he had to familiarise himself with the small arms, pistol and cutlass. Whenever the Medusa was back in harbour, he took lessons with an old fencing master, and he learned to rely on quickness rather than strength. He also purchased two fine double barrelled flintlock pistols and practised diligently with these. When the Medusa was out on patrol, however, there was no time for anything. The handling of a wooden sailing ship was a full time job in itself. Add to that the constant gun drill, the mad attempts to break records while clearing the ship for action, and the navigation classes with the sailing master, and the young midshipmen were in a constant tired stupor. When Tony joined the Medusa's crew, he was eighteen years of age, clearly senior to the other two midshipmen who were boys of sixteen. Over the months, he rapidly acquired the skills and knowledge expected of him. The sailing master marvelled about his mathematical skills and let him calculate the ship's position routinely. Soon, when he was midshipman of the watch, the officer of the watch would let him handle the ship all by himself, only watching over things from the background. This, of course, with the blessing of Captain Fanning. After barely more than a year, he was looked upon by the officers as next in line for promotion to commissioned rank. That moment came earlier than anybody expected. Medusa was completing a patrol of the Caiman Islands when she came upon the Citoyen, a French frigate of equal strength. The ships approached each other with respect, and both captains, for a while, tried to out-manoeuvre each other. The aim was to win the windward position, generally considered a decisive tactical advantage. Captain Fanning was aware of the fact that his ship, the Medusa, was the lesser of the two frigates. French ships were generally better built than their English counterparts, and the French captain proved himself equal to the task of thwarting each of Captain Fanning's feints. In the end, Captain Fanning saw himself forced to begin the battle from the leeward position. Both ships converged at pistol shot's distance. Fortunately, the wind was moderate, and the Medusa was hardly lying over to leeward, allowing her gunners to train their guns at the hull of the Frenchman. For young Anthony, the minutes of the approach felt like hours. He was serving under the Third Lieutenant, Mr. Masters, who commanded the starboard battery on the main deck. The men under their command had readied and loaded the long eighteen-pounders that constituted the frigate's main armament. Now they stood to their guns silently, waiting for the pipe signal from the Captain. Mr. Probyn, the Second Lieutenant, commanded the larboard side, but he was talking to Mr. Masters, discussing the approaching enemy. The two lieutenants only separated when Medusa came up to the French frigate and ran on parallel course. Commands were issued to the gunners to stand ready. All the men took care to move away from behind the big guns. Now, the men could see the hull and rigging of the other frigate through the gun ports, and the gun captains trained the pieces until they pointed straight at the looming hull. When the Captain's battery pipe was heard, Mr. Masters straightened. "Gun captains, on the next roll, ready to fire! On target! FIRE!" he roared. Immediately, his voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the discharging guns. Like everybody else, Tony had plugged his ears with wax, to protect his eardrums. Yet, the shock of the discharges was shattering. He had to force himself to do his duty, supervising the reloading. But then, the hull of the Medusa shook again, as the French frigate retaliated. For a few seconds, flying metal and wood splinters wreaked havoc on the crew. With a shock, Tony watched Mr. Probyn break down, almost cut in half by a deflected cannon ball. Mr. Master saw that, too, and Tony, in his state of enhanced sensibility, felt the pain Mr. Masters suffered at losing his superior and friend. Masters shook that off quickly. He ordered men from the idle larboard battery to fill in for the wounded. The starboard guns were ready again, and once the gun captains signalled that they had trained their guns, Master gave the signal. Once again, the roar of the guns stunned Tony, and once again, he forced himself out of his stupor and back to his duty. The men were frantically reloading their guns, and they were almost finished before the next French broadside smashed in the Medusa. This time, there were no hits in the main deck. Obviously, the officer commanding the French guns had misjudged the roll of his ship, and the whole broadside had gone high, doing only limited damage in the Medusa's rigging. However, one shot had parted a rope, and a wooden block came loose and smashed down. Whatever directed its path, the block glanced off Mr. Master's head. Had he not worn his cocked hat, it would have smashed his head for sure. As it was, Mr. Masters was knocked out cold, and all of a sudden, all the gun crews looked at Tony for orders. It took all of Tony's willpower to maintain a calm facade, but he managed. The guns were loaded by now, and he made sure to gauge the roll of the ship properly, before he gave the signal. Almost immediately, the broadside of the Medusa roared out, and this time, they were rewarded by a jubilant cry from above. "There goes her foremast!" Indeed, the last broadside had felled the foremast of the Citoyen, and now the French frigate turned into the wind, exposing her vulnerable stern. Immediately, the sails of the Medusa were backed, and she lost way, positioning herself behind the Citoyen. This was the turning point. Before the French were able to clear the wreckage of the foremast, the Medusa was able to deliver no less than four broadsides into their stern. The balls tore along the inside of the ship, destroying guns and killing the gun crews. Within ten minutes, the French frigate lost more than half her fighting power, and the remainder of her crew was lucky enough that their captain realised his defeat. The Tricolour came down from the masthead, answered by a thunderous 'Hooray!' from the Medusa's crew. The First Lieutenant, Mr. Pryce, took possession of the enemy ship, and the crew of the Medusa was finally able to lick their wounds. Mr. Masters had suffered a concussion and was laid up for a week. Mr. Probyn was dead, and Mr. Pryce had taken command of the prize. A very dazed Anthony Carter was appointed Acting Lieutenant and put in charge of the prize to relieve the urgently needed First Lieutenant. Never in his life would Tony forget the sights on board the vanquished frigate. More than fifty of her crew were dead, and Tony had to organise the captured crew to sew the fallen into their hammocks for burial. After that, he had to organise his small prize crew to watch over the prisoners, and to repair the damage to the rigging. Both ships remained hove to for two days, to effect the necessary repairs, before they were able to set sail for Kingston. During the following eight days, Tony slept no more than two hours a day, worried sick about his charge. Every day, there were burials to organise and attend. The French surgeon did what he could, but the mortality of wounded sailors was almost one third in those days, and there were over sixty wounded. He was in a constant tired haze for the following week, desperately trying to keep his brain working, and worrying himself sick. Although the command of the prize was the high point of his fledgeling career so far, he was immensely relieved when the Medusa and her prize finally cast anchor in Kingston harbour. For the next two hours, while Captain Fanning reported to Vice-Admiral Lambert, Tony supervised the transfer of the prisoners, unwounded and wounded, to the shore. He was far too busy to think of what may lie ahead of him. Shortly after Captain Fanning returned from the flagship, however, he was summoned to the Medusa. He reported in Captain Fanning's cabin, and he saw that the Captain gave him a friendly smile. "Aah, Mr. Carter, how good to see you. Everything went smoothly with the prisoners, I trust?" "Yes, Sir. I have the receipt with me." Since the Admiralty paid head money for captured Frenchmen, that receipt was worth a lot of money, and Captain Fanning stored it away with great care. "Mr. Carter, you did extremely well. I have already informed Sir Richard of your exemplary conduct, and he has agreed to summon an examination board in the next days. Once the Citoyen is turned over to the dockyard, you will prepare yourself for your examination for lieutenant. I have no doubt you will pass, but you better had some sleep." Examination for lieutenant! Many a midshipman waited years for this chance. Tony swallowed heavily. This was his chance! It took effort for him to force a grateful answer from his numbed brain. "Thank you kindly, Sir. I shall not disappoint you," he mumbled before he was dismissed. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 3: Lieutenant Anthony Carter easily passed the examination for lieutenant and was commissioned by Sir Richard Lambert. This promotion elevated him to the social rank of a gentleman, a man allowed to carry a sword, a man whose word was taken as indisputable fact. He also received an invitation to attend a ball at Admiralty House. He had a hard time to purchase a proper lieutenant's uniform in time for this event. He knew that he would see Harriet Lambert again, but he was equally sure that there would be no chance for him to speak to her in private. There would be dozens of senior officers present who would have precedent over him in claiming a dance with the commander in chief's daughter. Indeed, all he saw of her during the evening was a short glimpse when he arrived. She gave him a smile, though, and this consoled him somewhat. He also had an illuminating conversation with the only other lieutenant in presence, the flag lieutenant of Sir Richard, who filled him in on all the gossip and rumours. Shortly before midnight, he stepped out into the garden to cool off when he met a woman he had been dancing with earlier. They took a stroll through the well groomed garden making light conversation. Mrs. Pendrake was the wife of a prominent Kingston merchant and ship chandler. He was absent, though, and Mrs. Pendrake was bored. Tony realised that Mrs. Pendrake was flirting with him, and he began to see her in a different light. She was not that old, perhaps thirty, and nature had been generous to her, giving her womanly attributes in abundance. She also had an infectious laugh, and when she laughed, her ample bosom was a sight to behold. Walking through the night, she had taken his arm. The farther they walked from the house, the more she pressed Tony's arm against her bosom. Standing in the dark, under a large magnolia tree, Tony finally made his move and kissed her. He was not prepared for her passionate response. Their lips glued together, they stumbled towards a stone bench in a dark corner of the garden. Mrs. Pendrake yanked down his breeches, lifted her skirts and put his stiff member to the entrance of her pussy. She then deftly sank down on him, impaling her pussy on his rigid pole. In the dim light, her magnificent breasts jiggled and danced while she rode him with purposeful movements. She knew what she wanted and she sure was about to get it! When her climax hit her she nearly chewed off poor Tony's lips, and the pain almost made him lose his erection. Coming down a little bit, she deftly reached into her décolletage and lifted out her massive breasts for Tony to feast on. This sufficed to reinvigorate him, and he proceeded to pound her pussy from below until, with a stifled cry, he ejaculated deep inside her womb. She stiffened, too, experiencing another climax. After that, they just remained joined for another few minutes until the position became too uncomfortable. Freeing herself from Tony's embrace, Mrs. Pendrake got up and rearranged her dress, taking care to put her magnificent breasts back into the confines of her dress. Tony cleaned himself as best he could with a handkerchief and buttoned up. They did not join the other guests. Tony escorted her to her carriage and she drove off after inviting him to tea the next afternoon. He was watching the departing coach when an icy voice spoke to him at close quarters. "Have you been easing poor Lucy Pendrake's loneliness?" He spun around only to look into Harriet Lambert's face. She glared at him, full of contempt. "I should have known that you would chase any skirt that comes across your path. And to think that I harboured an interest in you. I never want to see you again!" she spat, her voice cracking with emotion. Dumbfounded, Tony tried to take her arm but she pulled it back violently and stormed back into the house. Aghast, he watched her running up the path when another bomb hit him. "Mr. Carter, what have you done to my daughter?", enquired Lady Lambert who had approached from the house. "N-nothing, Lady Lambert," Tony stuttered. "I have not seen her the whole evening until she appeared here." "I see. But you have been with Mrs. Pendrake?" Tony blushed and nodded. "You see, Mr. Carter, Harriet is a young girl and has romantic ideas that have nothing to do with reality. She cannot see that it is impossible for her to have you. You would have to reach command rank before you could be eligible for an engagement with a young woman of her standing. That can take many years. It is a good thing that she is mad at you now. This will help her come to her senses. Do not take this too hard, Mr. Carter. It is probably the best for both of you." With a reassuring pat on his arm, she left Tony. He briefly thought about going into the house to find Harriet and apologise to her, but then he realised what Lady Lambert had told him: he was not eligible to pursue her daughter. He was just a lowly lieutenant, and before he reached his own command he was not worthy of any consideration. When this had sunk in, the elation that he had felt over his promotion was wiped out. Wearily, he walked back to the harbour and to his father's house. He did, however, visit Mrs. Pendrake for tea the next day, but with the servants present, nothing could develop. Not that he was sorry for it, as he was still in a depressed mood. But Lucy Pendrake was a charming host, a nice woman, and Tony put on his best behaviour. Luckily, he had to report for duty the next evening to oversee the repairs that HMS Medusa was undergoing, and the work helped him regain his balance. Three weeks later, the Medusa was out on patrol again. Tony was Third Lieutenant now, and his berth in the midshipmen's quarters was taken by none else than young Andrew Lambert. He was now sixteen years of age and ready to step into his father's footsteps. Andrew knew nothing of his sister's change of mind, and he still idolised Anthony Carter. He was put in Tony's watch which was fine with both of them. Tony liked the boy and he also assumed that Admiral Lambert had sanctioned this arrangement. This was proof that he was still on the Admiral's list of favoured officers, an important consideration since any advancement largely depended on connections and favouritism. Two weeks into their patrol cruise, they sighted and captured a smaller French ship of war, a sloop. She put up a courageous fight but was overwhelmed quickly when Captain Fanning put the Medusa alongside. Andrew Lambert saw his first action and showed his courage when they boarded and took the prize. Everybody was elated when the Medusa put into Kingston Harbour with a prize in her wake. With the prize money they had earned, the officers of the Medusa went out to celebrate and, inevitably, ended up in the Blue Posts. The midshipmen looked like children in a candy store when they saw the pretty girls of the Blue Posts. Young Andrew Lambert was quickly led away by a beautiful quadroon girl and lost his virginity under her capable care. Tony asked for for the girl Rose. He had not seen her when he had been ashore the last time. His promotion, the ball at the Admiralty House and his fallout with Harriet Lambert had distracted him too much. To his astonishment, he heard that she had left the Blue Posts. One of the girls scornfully told him that stupid Rose had become pregnant and was living in a home for unwed mothers. While his comrades were busy in the private rooms, Anthony left the Blue Posts and walked the short distance to that home. When he knocked on the front door, a stern looking woman opened and asked him his business. While she was not openly unfriendly, Tony had the distinct feeling that she was not too happy to see him. "I have heard that an acquaintance of mine has taken lodgings here. Her name is Rose Mulcahy. I was hoping to speak to her and to see whether I may assist her in her situation." "Acquaintance, right" the woman snorted, but she let him enter and bade him wait in the entrance hall. Tony had to wait for almost ten minutes before an obviously resisting Rose was shoved into the entrance hall. "What do you want of me?" she asked bluntly. "I've heard of your situation, Rose. Naturally, I came to offer you my help," Tony replied. "How can you help me? And why would you? I'm nothing but a whore you paid." "Don't talk like that. I was very busy last time in port. But now I'm here. Listen, you don't want to stay here, do you?" "They give me food. They will provide a midwife. They will find good step parents for my child." "Is this what you want? Rose, do you want to give away your first born?" "What else can I do? I cannot take care of a child while working as a whore." "Then you must find other work. Listen, I have a house here in Kingston. It's rather small, but I have nobody to look after it while I'm at sea. Would you like to be my caretaker? I can pay you a small salary and you will have a place to stay with your child. It does not take much work. I'll be gone most of the time anyway. What say you?" Rose looked at him quizzically. "And would I have to take care of you when you are at home?" "That would depend on you. It is not a condition." "And you would not mind the child?" "That child could be mine for all I know, Rose. No, I would not mind." The smile returned to Rose's face. "Then I agree. When should I start?" Tony smiled his relief. "What about right now? Why don't you pack your belongings and I'll square things with your Mother Superior?" Rose nodded and left the hall. Seconds later, the woman who had opened reappeared. It was obvious that she had listened in on them. "So you'll be taking the Mulcahy girl with you?" she asked. "Indeed I will. Is there a problem?" "Well you see, Sir, the child has already been promised to a family. And they have made a substantial contribution to this house. We'd have to return that contribution." "You mean you have sold the unborn child, don't you. Miss Mulcahy has been here, what, two months? I'll give you a sovereign," he produced the coin, "that should cover your expenses." "But Sir,..." "Nothing of it! Do not try my patience, woman, or I will alert the authorities to have a close look at your charity!" The woman shrunk back, clearly alarmed. "Certainly Sir, please, I didn't mean to say anything, Sir. Have a good evening." With that she vanished in a hurry. Rose came back with a small bag carrying her scant belongings. Anthony smiled at her and, after taking her bag, offered her his arm. They left the house and walked towards his own home. Suddenly, Rose broke her silence. "Do I look fat already?" "Well, it's obvious you are with child, but I would not call you fat, Rose. To be honest, you are still very pretty. How far are you along anyway?" "The midwife said it will be another four months yet." "Well, it's good that you're not disposed to fatness, Rose. You'll soon be your old pretty self. And here we are." They had arrived at the small two story house Tony's father had purchased 20 years ago. Inside, Tony showed her to a room on the first floor. "This will be your room. While I'm at sea, you may use the living room at your leisure. But no changes, please." "Of course not," the girl replied. "Another thing, Rose. You are not to receive any visitors in my house, you understand?" Rose blushed. "I promise, I shan't. You can trust me. If I can help it, I will never work again as whore in my life. I have not yet thanked you properly. I'll be eternally grateful to you. Your generosity will allow me to keep my child." "Well, and I have a housekeeper. So we are both lucky. Let us get some sleep now. We can sleep late tomorrow. Good night!" "Good night,..." Rose hesitated, "how should I address you now?" "Call me Tony when nobody is around. When I have visitors, it's Mister Carter, of course." "Good night then, Tony." Tony waved and went up to his bedroom on the second floor. When he awoke the next morning and heard noise from the kitchen, he was confused for a moment. Then he remembered that he had a caretaker now and a housekeeper. He put a gown over his shirt and stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. Rose was busy taking inventory of her new domain. When she heard him, she turned and looked at him accusingly. "This place is a mess. You should have had somebody to look after it long ago!" "You're probably right, Rose," Tony sighed, "but take it easy. No admiral will visit in the near future. Just get the kitchen and the living room in order and make your own room comfortable. There's a small chamber next to your room. You can convert it into a sleeping chamber for your child." "That would be nice, Tony. And my room will be very nice, too, once I cleaned everything. Your bed linens are terrible, though." "Mr. Walters sells bed linens just three doors down the street. Buy a dozen. I have an account at his store. And the Widow Herbert across the street sells victuals. The market, you know where to find. I will arrange for a weekly allowance to be paid to you at Moore's bank house during my absence." "It's all right, Tony. I don't complain. This is the best I ever lived, and I will take good care of your house, I promise. Now, what do you want for breakfast?" "There's some eggs in the store room, and some bacon. The goat milk is from yesterday, and there is oatmeal. Why not have ham and eggs and porridge?" Rose smiled. "Why not, indeed. I'll see to it, and you go shave and dress." When Tony returned to the kitchen half an hour later, breakfast was waiting. He saw, however, that only one place had been set, and he looked at Rose with a raised eyebrow. "I wasn't sure. Should I join you?" "By all means, yes. Sit down and eat." He grabbed another cup from the board above his head and poured Rose a cup of steaming coffee from the tin can. Rose sat down opposite from him, and they started to eat. Obviously, Rose was hungry and they ate in silence. Tony, too, enjoyed a real breakfast as opposed to the fare that passed for breakfast on board a frigate. When they were both sated, conversation resumed, and Tony gave her all the information she needed to run the household. When that topic was exhausted, they sat silently for a moment until Rose declared that she wanted to clear the table. Tony volunteered to help, and they made quick work of it. A few times, Rose brushed against Tony with her backside or her breast, seemingly by accident. After the third instance, Tony finally comprehended and took her into his arms. For a minute, they just stood there with Rose snuggled against his chest, then she lifted her face and smiled. "What's a girl have to do to get a kiss in this household?" she inquired. Their lips met, and they silently explored each other's mouth. Tony gathered the girl in his arms and carried her to her room where he gently laid her down on the bed. He knelt beside the bed and proceeded to remove her gown first and then her shirt. Kissing her slightly rounded belly, he pushed her shirt up to reveal her swelling breasts with the puffy and swollen nipples. Kissing his way upwards, he soon latched his mouth on those nipples. This elicited a sharp intake of breath, and Rose took hold of his head with her slender hands and guided him up to her face. Again, they kissed fervently while Rose busied herself to strip him of his shirt. That done, he pressed his bare chest against her exposed breasts while their fierce kissing continued. Tony freed himself from her embrace for a second to free his engorged member from the tight confines of his breeches. Then he laid down beside Rose, and she took the hint and mounted him, slowly impaling herself on his stiff rod. She was unsure first, not wanting to hurt her child. With her lust mounting, however, she began to ride him in earnest. Tony just relaxed and marvelled at the beauty of this pregnant child-woman who rode him in the throes of her lust. Her red hair was dishevelled and flew about her head, and her breasts with the swollen nipples were jutting out from her chest, begging to be fondled. Suddenly, Rose's moans increased. He felt her body tense, and she became silent for a good ten seconds while her pussy clamped down on his member. Then an almost silent, high pitched scream came from her throat. Tony reached up, brushed aside the red curls that shrouded her face and took her lovely face in both hands. He pulled her down to his lips and kissed her deeply while she slowly came down from her climax. With a shudder, she finally open her green eyes, and a smile lit up her features. "That was a good one, wasn't it? But let me finish you, you haven't come yet, have you?" "How could I? Your pussy clamped down so hard, I couldn't get anything out," Tony replied laughingly. "Girl, you are lovely. This really was a good one." "And it will get better for you, I promise!" With that, Rose slid down and engulfed his member with her mouth. She swirled the tip with her tongue, applying just the slightest suction with her lips. When she felt that his erection was fully restored, she started pumping motions with her hand and increased her suction. For almost five minutes she gradually increased the intensity of her ministrations until Tony, overcome with lust, squirted his come into her waiting mouth. She swallowed all he had, and then licked the head clean. With both of them sated in every respect, they quietly cuddled for another quarter of an hour, until Rose nudged his side. "You'll have to get up to report for duty, don't you? And I have to clean up. When will you be home today?" "I don't go watches in harbour, but I have to check my responsibilities. I will come home around 8 o'clock tonight. We'll have a nice supper and maybe another little romp, what d'ye think?" "I'd love that," Rose grinned. His mood sobered, "You know, tomorrow evening, we'll set sail. I don't know when I'll be back. Tomorrow morning I will acquaint you with the neighbours and merchants. You'll simply be the Widow Mulcahy, wife of the late boatswain Andrew Mulcahy, who was lost at sea. He left you shortly after your wedding never to return. Very sad. Having known your late husband, I have given you a position in my household. Is that all right with you?" "I'll have to get used to being a widow, but it' s probably the best story to keep people from gossiping about us. I agree." With this settled, Tony reported for duty. After looking into the progress of some repairs under his supervision, the Captain gave him leave for the night and he returned to his home. His comrades tried to coax him into joining them at the Blue Posts again, but he declined, claiming that he had to settle matters regarding his household. When he came home, Rose had already set the table in the living room with a nice supper of beef stew and fresh potatoes. They sat together and enjoyed the good food and a glass of wine each. After supper, they went up to Tony's bedroom. They quietly undressed and slipped under the new linens. Their bodies met, and they kissed for a long time, every once in a while gazing at each other with fond smiles. Finally, Rose took charge again. She turned and, lying on her right side, presented her backside to him. Tony snuggled up behind her and, from behind, fed his stiff cock into her already moist cunt. She met his penetration, pressing her buttocks against his pubes, and for a while, they just moved lazily, enjoying the feeling of each other. Tony busied himself nibbling her ear and the sensitive skin of her neck just below her ear. Her hair, freshly washed, smelled intoxicating, and he began to nibble on her slim shoulders and her collarbone as well. Their excitement grew steadily until finally, Tony turned her onto her belly carefully, moving with her, and began to fuck her with long strokes from above. Rose's cries were muffled by the sheets, but she pushed back against him, raising her buttocks from the bed until, with a hoarse cry, Tony reached his peak and emptied himself in her pussy. Feeling his release, Rose climaxed as well, and he felt her clenching vaginal walls milk him of the last drops. The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, and in deep and peaceful sleep. As he had said, the Medusa weighed anchor the next evening to patrol the Windward Islands. It was an uneventful cruise, by all means. The most exciting thing happened after they dropped anchor in Kingston two months later, and that was the promotion of the First Lieutenant, Mr. Pryce, to the rank of commander. This promotion was long overdue, and was met with universal approval. He left the ship to take command of a sloop of war and was replaced by a newly promoted lieutenant from the flagship. Mr. Masters was First Lieutenant now, and Tony was Second, with scarcely nine months seniority. Captain Fanning was not happy to lose his best officer, but he made the best out of the situation. He began to dine with his officers regularly, and he used these opportunities to impress his views on his subalterns. Discussing tactics, seamanship, politics and gunnery with their seasoned captain helped the young officers to grow into their new roles. It helped that Medusa was given orders that promised to break the boredom of patrol service for a while. The Sparrow, a sloop under Sir Richard's command, had captured a Spanish dispatch ship. Obviously, Cmdr. Woodrow had been lucky insofar as he also secured the mail bag and additional official letters. As a result, Medusa was given orders to sail for Gibraltar with utmost speed, to deliver dispatches for the governor. Within two hours after receiving orders, Medusa left Kingston. Once out of the harbour, Captain Fanning had the topmen set every available stitch of canvas. It was good that they had been able to clean Medusa's bottom during a brief spell in the dry dock. Now she was flying over the waves, as it seemed to the men. They were favoured by the wind, granted. Still, logging twelve knots on average was quite a feat for an ageing frigate. They managed the crossing in just fifteen days, at the cost of a thoroughly exhausted crew. After the mad rush, the rest was anticlimactic. Captain Fanning's gig brought him to the shore, and he delivered the dispatches to the governor. He returned, not two hours later, and announced they would sail back in two days. The officers were granted shore leave, and the stewards stocked up on Madeira and Port wines. Tony, being the son of a merchant captain, suggested they buy a large stock of wines, to be sold in Kingston at a profit, and Captain Fanning laughingly agreed. When Medusa put to sea two days later, there was no rush. The governor had tipped off Captain Fanning that there was a renewed activity of Spanish slave ships on the West-African coast, and Fanning thought it a good idea to try and find prizes. Mr. Boyle set a course that would lead them along the coast line, and for several days they sailed on a south-western course. The sailed between the Canary Islands and the African coast, passing Fuerteventura within sight, and proceeded southward. Their destination was the French owned island of Gorée, off Dakar, the westernmost point of Africa, and the most important trading place for slaves. They approached the coast with utmost care. Slave ships were usually well armed and serious adversaries, much like corsairs. It was on Tony's watch that the look out hailed a sighting. "Boat ho! Three points to larboard, Sir! A small jolly boat." The wind was moderate, but the small boat had a hard time in the Atlantic rollers. As they approached the boat, Tony could see only one man in it, an African for all he could tell. The man had seen the Medusa, too, and when they came close, he stood in the small boat, brandishing a cutlass, and shouting at them. "What on earth is it with this fellow?" Captain Fanning asked, perplexed. One would assume that anybody, drifting in a small jolly boat, with no mast or sail, and a full fifty sea miles from the coast, should be more than happy meet a ship. Tony thought he had an idea, though. "Sir, perhaps he's an escaped slave, and he's afraid we'll bring him back." Captain Fanning never tried to hide his aversion to the slave trade. In fact, he tried to instil the same attitude in his subordinates. Now he set his jaw. "Does anybody know what language he's shouting in?" he queried. "It sounds like French, Sir, both unlike any French I ever heard," Tony offered. "Well then, try your luck, Mr. Carter," the Captain ordered. Actually, it was easy. The African and Tony both spoke equally bad French, mostly just single words, and somehow, Tony was able to convey to the man that they were not slavers. From there, things became easier. The man dropped the cutlass, and allowed his boat to be hooked. When he climbed on deck, they noticed just how tall a man he was, easily six and a half feet, with a sinewy body. His gaze was still suspicious, as he looked about himself. But Tony could also read curiosity in the man's face, as he took in the guns and the rigging, and the men who stood around, gaping at him. "Tell him, he can join the crew," Captain Fanning told Tony. Again, it took some time for Tony to convey this offer. The man asked then whether he would be allowed to fight, at least that was what Tony interpreted into the sounds. When Tony nodded to this, the tall man nodded in response. "Read him in, Mr. Carter. God knows, it's senseless, but it needs to be done. That smuggler from Guernsey, Cotard, he speaks French. Pair this giant with Cotard, and see to it that he learns some English. He'll be more useful if he understands commands." "Aye aye, Sir," was all that Tony could respond to a clear order. Privately, he thought that the man had just jumped from the frying pan into the fire. He read the man in, giving him a brief summary of the Articles of War. Then he sent for Cotard, a wiry little man of forty or more years, and gave him the order to chaperone the new recruit and teach him the most common commands. He had asked the African for his name, but he could not understand it. Mr. Masters grinned at this dilemma. "I'll write him in as John Little. Fitting name, isn't it?" That caused a chuckle all around, and Cotard was left with the task to explain this change of name to his protégé. Nothing else came out of their patrol along the African coast. Two slave ships were under the protection of the French guns on Gorée, and other shipping that they encountered was not worth any efforts. After two weeks, Captain Fanning set a course due West, and the Medusa, driven by the north-eastern trade winds began her long journey across the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. They returned to Kingston, with nothing to show for their journey of 8000 miles, but a tall African recruit. Medusa remained in Kingston for the next two months. Sir Richard Lambert was about to pass the command to his successor, Lord Desson, and refrained from any new initiatives. Finally, Medusa was sent on a patrol along the Cuban coast. For three weeks, they cruised the coast in vain, until Tony and his shipmates had their next enemy encounter. A small Spanish frigate of 28 guns had come across the Medusa's path, just off Santiago de Cuba. She tried to make an escape, and a running battle ensued. Only when they managed to cripple her with a shot from their 12 pounder bow chasers, could they come up to her and force a battle at close quarters. It was not a very fierce battle. Medusa could fire almost twice the weight of the Spaniard's broadside, and her gun crews were better trained, too. After just 20 minutes of cannonade, the out-gunned Spaniard struck her colours. Mr. Masters was sent on board the Spanish frigate as the prize master, and Tony Carter, at the young age of 21 years, became acting First Lieutenant of a frigate. When they sailed into Kingston with the prize, it was almost inevitable that the First Lieutenant of the victorious ship, Mr. Masters, was made commander. According to tradition, this was foremost a compliment to the captain, but it nevertheless left Medusa short of one officer. As replacement, young Andrew Lambert was promoted acting lieutenant, a logical gesture, since Sir Richard had not been relieved yet. The Royal Navy was expanding at a dramatic rate, and senior lieutenants were not available at the Kingston station. Thus, just three years after entering the service, Lt. Anthony Carter became First Lieutenant of HMS Medusa, effectively second in command and direct successor to the captain in case of any mishap. Captain Fanning groaned, but there was nothing he could do. He joked that he would evade any enemy encounter for the next years for fear of loosing yet another officer. However, the situation had its benefits. The success and the prospect of promotion were a powerful motivation to the young officers, and they went through pains to ensure that their training in any aspect of their profession was not wanting. Being forced to adopt to new responsibilities at short intervals also helped to keep everyone on board on their toes. Thus, the lack of experience of the Medusa's officers was more than compensated by a sense of driving ambition, youthful enthusiasm and stamina. Tony quickly assumed his new role as second in command and learned to stand in for his captain. He also had to enforce the discipline on board. That was no easy task since most of the sailors on board were not volunteers but had been pressed into the service. Some of the volunteers had even been recruited from His Majesty's prisons. It was a tough lesson to learn, but Tony managed to gain and keep the respect of the lower deck. They knew that he was a dyed-in-the-wool sailor. They also learned that he tried to be just in enforcing the discipline, and that he was a leader who would never give a task he could not do himself. Captain Fanning came to rely on his new Nº1 after a short while and prayed to the gods that he would be allowed to keep him for some time. Indeed, from March 1800 to December 1801, Anthony Carter served as First Lieutenant to Captain Fanning in the Medusa. The French and Spanish ships of war were blockaded in their ports, and the Medusa captured nothing save for a few coastal vessels. Andrew Lambert had passed examination for lieutenant and now served as Third Lieutenant. Sir Richard had handed over his command to Vice Admiral Lord Desson, and Tony had to realise that he had no mentor anymore to gain him a promotion. He was content with his position, though, having advanced beyond even the most optimistic expectations. They returned to port on a regular basis, and Tony settled into a monogamous affair with his housekeeper Rose. He still thought of Harriet Lambert from time to time. When he entered the Royal Navy, his infatuation with Harriet had been a driving force. Since then, however, the success he experienced and the recognition that came with it gave him a new source of motivation. It was shortly before Christmas 1801, when Medusa once more returned to the Kingston Station from an uneventful patrol. As soon as they cast anchor, Captain Fanning was summoned to the flagship. When he returned, he told Tony to put on his best uniform and report to the flagship without delay. Tony rushed to the wardroom and hurriedly put on his parade uniform, his sword and cocked hat, and then had the side boat take him to the flagship. He was brought before Lord Desson after just a few minutes of waiting. The commander in chief looked him over and nodded to himself. "Lieutenant Carter, you have been Nº1 in Medusa for almost two years?" "Yes, milord." "Your captain speaks highly of you. He says you're capable of an independent command." "That is very kind of Captain Fanning, milord. If I may say so, he has set an excellent example for us." "Well, let's cut to the beef, Mr. Carter. Captain Fanning will take command of the Achilles, a 74 gun ship of the line. I am new to the station, and I have no protégé. Can't say that I care for protégés anyway. Captain Fanning recommends you, and so did my predecessor, Sir Richard Lambert. I will give you command of the Medusa with the acting rank of Captain. Your orders are being written as we speak. You will read yourself in and make ready for sea as fast as possible. I am taking the squadron to sea for an exercise, and Medusa will be part of the van." Tony was stunned, and he had to force himself to reply appropriately. "I am most grateful for this opportunity, milord. I will not disappoint your trust in me." "Well," Lord Desson laughed, "you better not. Flags!" he shouted at his flag lieutenant, "Are those orders for Captain Carter ready yet?" The flag lieutenant came with two sealed envelopes and handed them over to Anthony. Still slightly dazed, he received them, bade his farewell to the Commander in Chief and hurried back to the Medusa. Captain Fanning was already at the port with his gear, ready to be relieved of his command. "Congratulation, Tony," he grinned. "You'll be a fine captain for this ship." "Thank you very much, Sir," Tony replied. "I owe this to you, I know. I am very grateful." "Well, I'll be off. Have to get my new command ready for sea. I expect to see you." With that, he quickly climbed down the ladder into the waiting gig of HMS Achilles. Tony turned and approached Mr. Carson, the Second Lieutenant. "All hands aft, if you please, Mr. Carson." It sounded strange. For two years, Jonathan Carson had been a fellow wardroom member, and they had called each other by their first names. That had to change now, and Carson sensed the meaning immediately. His reply was just as formal. "Aye aye, Sir!" Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 4: Captain Anthony Carter, not yet 24 years of age, unfolded the crackling parchment. He looked at the crew of the Medusa, swallowed once and began to read loudly from the paper in his hand: "Orders given to me, Anthony Carter, Esq., Captain Royal Navy, by Lord Wilbour Desson, K.C.B., Vice Admiral of the Red and Commander in Chief of his Majesty's Naval Forces in the West Indian waters. "Sir, you are hereby requested and required to assume command pro tempore and until further notice of H.M. frigate Medusa, lying at present in Kingston Harbour. "Signed: Wilbour Lord Desson, October 3rd, 1802." He folded the parchment. He had "read himself in", a crucial formality of assuming command. Only now was he legally captain of the Medusa. He paused for a moment, trying to recollect what he wanted to say. "You officers and men! Our good Captain Fanning has been appointed to a ship of the line. He has been an excellent commander to this ship for almost five years. These are large footsteps to fill. But I am determined to follow the example he has set. Let us all put our efforts into keeping Medusa the happy and successful ship we know her for. "Now, you all have come to know me. You know I shan't stand sloppiness in the execution of duties. Do your duties as you did under Captain Fanning, and we will write yet another successful chapter in the history of our beloved ship. "Mr. Carson! Dismiss crew, if you please!" "Aye aye, Sir! Hats on! Carry on!" Mr. Woodrow, the boatswain, looked around and took a deep breath. "Lads! Three hoorays for our new captain! One-" "Hooray!" the men shouted as one. "-two-" "Hooray!" "-three, and a tiger's roar!" "Hooray!" The crews of the surrounding ships had climbed in the riggings to watch. "Thank you, Mr. Woodrow," Tony nodded. He was moved but he could not show it now. "Mr. Carson, you are 1st lieutenant now. You will find the necessary documents in your new cabin. We have to make ready for sea as fast as possible. A Lt. Dunning will report on board later today to complete the wardroom. He is junior to you and to Mr. Lambert. I have to go ashore for at least two hours. See to it that the stores are replenished from the magazines." The new Nº1 saluted, and Tony called for his gig. He called for the Captain's steward, too, and told him to pack all his uniform coats. Epaulettes had to be fixed to the right shoulder of his uniform coats. That would do for the first voyage. But he needed new uniform coats now, and better shirts, breeches and shoes. Luckily, he had been able to save his inheritance and most of his prize money over the past years. He was by no means rich, but he could afford appropriate uniforms. Once on shore, he went to a tailor, with his steward in tow. There, he ordered four new Captain's uniforms with cocked hat and a half dozen white breeches. He would also need silk cravats, silk stockings and silk shirts. The tailor rubbed his hands in excitement over this windfall and promised all these things to be ready when Capt. Carter returned to Kingston. Meanwhile, an apprentice has added epaulettes to Tony's lieutenant's coats. After less than an hour, Captain Carter left the tailor's shop. He sent the steward back on board with the altered coats and took a rented coach to his house. Rushing in, he caused poor Rose to shriek in terror before she recognised him and rushed into his arms. "I've no time today, Rose. I am in a terrible hurry. I will come home tonight for supper, if you can fix something for me. Then I will tell you everything. How is Emily?" Emily was the child Rose had born two years ago, a lovely girl who was the spitting image of her mother. "She is fine. I am so happy to have her. And I am happy to have you here for a day at least. How long can you stay?" "Three days at most. I may not be able to come home every night, but I'll try." "Fine, I'll have supper ready for you. And myself as well," she added with a sly grin. Tony hugged her tightly and kissed her lips. "You do that and I'll have something ready for you as well." Rose held him at arm's length. "Something happened," she stated, and looked him over. Her gaze caught the single epaulette on his right shoulder that signified a captain of less than three years seniority. "You've been promoted! You've been posted captain!" she exclaimed. "I am so proud of you, Tony. Wait until the neighbours will hear. What ship?" "Don't tell them yet, Rose. Maybe, next time I am in harbour. Lord Desson has given me the Medusa," he added, and his pride showed. "Listen, I have to be back on board. I'll be back tonight." And with a kiss he left her and hurried back to where Medusa was at anchor. Later that evening, after a whirlwind of activities, as he was rowed ashore by his crew, he thought about Rose. She had proven an invaluable help in the last years, easing the hardships of a sailor's life. Always ready for him, always bringing happiness into his life without asking for anything. He knew that she also had advantages out of the arrangement: a decent living, good accommodations, the respectable position of a gentleman's housekeeper, a modest but sufficient salary. But he felt that he still owed her. With this in mind, he entered a small jeweller's shop on his way home and purchased a modest gold necklace with matching earrings. When he entered his house, he was first greeted by little Emily who squeaked when he picked her up and pretended to poke her tummy with his finger. Rose came to relieve him of the little girl and to bring her to bed. He used the time to shuck his heavy coat and change his shirt. Supper was ready when he came down again, and they sat down to eat. He told Rose of this day's happenings and of his plans for the next days. She, in turn, told him about the necessary repairs to the house, the purchases she'd had to make and other mundane matters. When they had finished supper, a certain playfulness entered their conversation. It was then when Tony asked her to sit with him on the bench by the fireplace. With some stuttering he managed to express his thanks and appreciation for her help during the last years. At last, he gave her the small parcel with the jewellery. Her response when she saw the necklace was a gasp. A second later, suffered a violent attack on his mouth, and a tongue shoved into his throat. Rose was weeping and laughing and kissing him, all at the same time. When she calmed down a bit, she looked into his eyes. "Thank you, Tony. This means so much to me. I know that I am not a woman you could marry. But you have been so good to me and to Emily, and now you give me this beautiful necklace, and I know that you appreciate me. You are the first man ever to make me feel worthwhile, you know, more than just a whore." "But you are worthwhile, Rose. To Emily, to me, to the neighbours. They think highly of you. I think highly of you. No matter how my life will turn, you will always own a place in my heart, Rose." "Now stop it. You'll have me crying all over again, and I don't want to cry. I want to make love to you, I want you to feel as happy as I am. Let's go to my room, shall we?" They locked the door, extinguished the candles and went to Rose's room. Within seconds they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing and fondling each other. Suddenly, Rose withdrew and looked into Tony's eyes: "I want you to possess me completely tonight." "What do you mean by that?" was Tony's puzzled reply. "There's still an opening you haven't taken yet. I want you to take my backside tonight. Come on, you're a sailor, aren't you?" she added with an impish grin. "Well I've seen things like that, but I never tried. Are you sure? I mean, it must hurt." "Yes, I'm sure. You know that I had to do all sorts of things with the men who came to the Blue Posts? Mostly I hated it and I hated them. But with you it is different. I want you to take all of me, and that includes my arse." She turned and let him have a good look at her bum and patted her cheeks invitingly. Whatever Tony had to say died stillborn before it reached his lips. He began to fondle her well formed buttocks with both his hands. Her pussy lips opened invitingly whenever he spread her cheeks, and he noticed that her puckered asshole glistened in the candle light. She had obviously planned this and had applied some oil or grease to ease the penetration. For a moment, Tony was tempted to just put his cock at her rosebud and push, but he checked himself in time. This was going to be an exceptional night and he wanted so savour it. Positioning himself behind her, he bent over her kneeling body and began to kiss his way up from the small of her back to her lovely neck. Pushing her beautiful red hair to the side, he kissed and nibbled at her neck and under her ears, all the while rubbing his erect cock against her moist labia. Rose's excitement grew noticeably, and her hips gyrated against his pelvis, trying to get his cock to poke her in the right places. Within a few minutes, she succeeded, and his boner slid into her pussy effortlessly. He still caressed her back with his mouth while his hands had found her pert breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly while his teeth grazed the side of her neck. Rose pushed back against him, trying to get him as deep as possible inside her. Tony felt that he had never penetrated her that far; the tip of his cock thumbed against her cervix, and she began to cry out her pleasure until, without warning, her pussy clamped down on his dick, and she began to shake in the grip of her orgasm. He eased his thrusts to help her come down from her height, and when her breathing returned to near normal, he withdrew his member from her pussy. Using the fluids that were coating his cock, he rubbed over her anus, lubricating the tight opening. Again, he dipped into her pussy to get more juices on his cock and then he aligned the tip with her rosebud. Pushing lightly, the tip began to penetrate the tight, muscled ring. Rose's moan came both from the initial pain of the penetration and from the sensation it caused. "Easy, darling, not too much at a time," she cautioned her lover, looking over her shoulder. Tony took the hint and, for a while he just let the tip of his cock penetrate her hole. Gradually, however, he increased the pressure and before long the tip of his cock was seated in her ass. Her moans of pain had ceased now, and she began to push against the invading member, encouraging Tony to insert more and more of his length into her tight hole. When he had penetrated her to the hilt, he rested for a moment, giving her the time to adjust. It was not before she began to move her hips on her own accord that he started to fuck her with slow regular strokes. The feeling of her muscled opening gripping and stroking his cock was intense, and he knew that he would not last long. He felt the juice boiling in his balls and began to push and pull with more vigour. Rose's cries of lust egged him on and, with a final thrust deep into her bowels, he began to ejaculate for what seemed like minutes. Rose cried out when she sensed his cum blast deep into her gut, and for a moment they remained rigid and still, trying to regain their breath. With a deep sigh, Tony withdrew his shrinking cock from her arse, and with wobbly knees, he clambered over to the night stand. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned first Rose's behind and then, walking back to the wash stand, his cock. Rejoining her in the bed, he lay behind her, spoon fashion, and nuzzled her neck. "You know, Rose, this was incredible. You are one hell of a woman. I never thought I could feel such intense lust." "I loved it, too. It's very painful when the man is impatient. But with you, I loved it. You're a wonderful lover yourself." "Thank you, Rose. Now, let's get some sleep. It's past midnight." Cuddling together, the two lovers fell into an exhausted sleep. ------- Two days later, an extremely satisfied and incredibly tired Captain Carter took his ship, the frigate Medusa, out to sea. The last two days had seen him working tirelessly through the day, not only getting the ship ready for sea, but also reading himself into the ship's books. He had to reorganise the crew, promote petty officers, and to make sure his officers knew their new tasks. His nights had been spent in the arms of his lovely housekeeper, and he felt like the blood would never return to his penis again. Medusa was to be in a flanking position in the advance guard of the squadron. Rear Admiral Sir John Collins was in command of the van, with three sail of the line, three frigates and two armed sloops. For almost two weeks, Lord Desson worked his squadron through the battle lines, nightly alarms, landing operations, and simulated emergencies until everybody in the squadron, officers and men alike, cursed him. But the purpose was well served, since more and more shortcomings were revealed, until, in the end, even seasoned captains showed the strain. Everyone was relieved when the flagship, after 15 days, hoisted the signal for their return to Kingston. The first evening back in port, the tired captains received an invitation by their admiral to dine at Admiralty House. After a good dinner, and before the wine could dull their senses, Lord Desson began to talk about the exercise. He was surprisingly positive, avoided to pin criticism to individual ships and their captains, and in general gave a boost to the squadron's morale. He knew that he had driven them to the breaking point and that his experienced officers had seen their shortcomings themselves. When Anthony Carter staggered home, late that night, he was satisfied that he had met the expectations. Rose was still up when he came home. Of course, she had seen the fleet put into harbour, and she had assumed that he would come home that night. Tony was too exhausted, however, to do anything than take off his coat, neck-tie and shoes and drop on his bed. Rose roused him at sunrise the next morning because she did not know his plans for the day. Once again, he thanked providence for his housekeeper. He had to be back on board and set an example for the tired crew. After a hasty breakfast, he promised Rose that he would be back for supper and hurried to the harbour. A jolly boat brought him out to the Medusa, just when the morning watch was called. For several hours he was immersed in the task of organising the replenishment of stores. Several repairs had to be effected urgently, too. When he finally told himself that he could rest for a moment and have something for lunch, a boat from the flagship approached. A midshipman came up the entry port and saluted the quarterdeck. He handed an envelope to Tony, saluted and hurried back into his boat. In the privacy of his cabin, Tony opened the envelope. It was an order to go to sea. In a week, Medusa was to guard a convoy of merchantmen from Kingston to London. Convoy duty was an unwelcome routine task for frigates, but as the youngest captain in the squadron, Tony could hardly expect to be asked his preferences. "Guard, pass the word for Mr. Carson!", he shouted at the cabin door. A minute later, his First Lieutenant appeared. "Sir, you asked for me?" "Mr. Carson, we have new orders. We'll take the convoy to London next week. See to it that you use this week in port to renew the water. Inspect the pork barrels and the other provisions and have the boatswain renew the running rig where necessary. It's not often that we have a week in port." "Aye, aye, Sir!" came the answer, although until three weeks ago they had been sharing the Medusa's wardroom. Left alone in his cabin, he felt tempted to chide his steward for not having prepared the lunch he desperately needed. He thought better of it and called for his gig instead. He had himself rowed to the shore and visited an upscale eating house where he had an excellent lunch. Then he visited his tailor. His new uniform coats were ready, as was the rest of his orders. The bill amounted to more than £22, a small fortune, but a necessary expenditure. His career may well depend on making a favourable outward appearance. The tailor sent one of his apprentices to accompany Captain Carter and carry new clothes to his house. This was almost ridiculous to Tony; he was an able-bodied man who could carry a few coats and shirts himself, but the tailor insisted that it was inconsistent with the dignity of a captain to carry a bundle of clothes. When Captain Carter reached his home, several neighbours greeted him on the street to congratulate him on his promotion. He had never realised it, but he was a hero to the people who had watched him grow up. He was one of them, and he had reached the exalted rank of a post captain! More and more people joined. There was no other way, he had to invite the neighbours into his house. Rose rushed into the cellar to fetch a few bottles of wine, and it took almost three hours until the last well wisher had his fill. Tony himself had drunk sparingly; he did not like the feeling of being drunk. When they were finally alone again, he helped Rose to clear the wreckage his neighbours had left in the living room, against her protestations to be sure. Little Emily watched them from her stool and, finally, Tony remembered that she, too, had something to celebrate. He rushed to his room, where the tailor's apprentice had dropped the parcels and sifted through them. When he had found what he had been looking for, he returned to the living room. "Happy birthday, Emily," he said, handing her the parcel he had brought. The child clumsily ripped off the paper wrappers and a huge smile lit up her pretty face. "Mummy, look! A doll!" And indeed it was a doll that Tony had ordered from the tailor (there were no toy stores in early 19th century Kingston). Little Emily clutched the doll to her breast and beamed at her mother. Rose, in turn, looked at Tony with a look of deep affection in her eyes. "You're just too good to us," was all she managed to say. "Ah, forget it. It's her birthday, isn't it," Tony tried to downplay the matter. "If anything should ever happen to me, will you look after her, please?" Rose suddenly asked with a slightly trembling voice. "Well, certainly I shall," Tony assured her. "You are both dear to me. I should feel honoured to take care of Emily. But why do you ask? Is anything amiss?" "No, dear. I am just worried. I am the only person Emily has. You know, when my mother died, nobody cared for me. This is how I ended up in the Blue Posts. I don't want that to happen to Emily." "Well, Rose, be assured that your daughter will always be taken care of as if she were my own. Does this placate your worries?" "Yes, it does. Thank you for your kindness." "Now, Rose, let's stop this. You know damn well that you mean a lot to me. And how much I appreciate you as a woman you should know as well," he added with a grin. "I'll put Emily to bed, now," she responded. "Say Good Night to the Captain, Emily. Yes, you may keep the doll." "Good night, Sir," the child chirped and followed her mother upstairs to her room. Later that evening, Rose joined Tony in his bed. But this night, there was no passionate love making. Both were content to sleep in each other's arms, to enjoy the security of the other person's embrace. A week later, using the weak puffs of the land breeze, HMS Medusa crawled out of Kingston Harbour under her topsails. Behind her, the ships that formed the convoy followed suit. The captains of the merchantmen were experienced in the convoy business. The war had been lasting for eight years, and those who could not or would not learn to co-operate with the navy escorts had long since been weeded out by French and Spanish privateers. Once the convoy caught the trade winds, Tony positioned Medusa to windward of his charges. From this position, he could reach each of the ships entrusted to his protection in very short time. The 32 gun-frigate was likely to be of superior strength to any privateer that might attempt to catch one of the rich merchantmen. As long as each ship stayed in the prearranged position within the convoy, they were reasonably safe. And indeed, the three week journey went without any incident. It was a sunny Sunday in late November when they cast anchor in the Pool of London, and Tony Carter was rather excited. He had been to London before, as a youth, when he was sailing with his father, but he had been barely more than a boy then. He was looking forward to seeing the capital of the Realm. He was also anxious to get his promotion confirmed. He had to be "posted" in the Naval Gazette, the official bulletin of the Admiralty, to have his captaincy for certain. Promotion by a commander in chief in a foreign station was usually confirmed without questioning. But still, one could never be certain. Therefore, the next morning saw Captain Carter in his best uniform, with his papers, sitting in the antechamber of the Secretary to Their Lords Commissioners for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral, Mr. Edward Nepean, waiting for an interview with the man who, in effect, ran the world's largest navy. After waiting for an hour, he was shown in. Mr. Nepean was a gentleman of the highest refinement. He took his time studying the documents Tony had produced, then reread part of them. Looking up, his clear blue eyes fastened on the young captain. "You are aware, Captain, that our government is negotiating a peace with France? No? Well, it is so. As soon as an agreement is reached, we shall have an armistice. Of course, the Royal Navy will be cut down in size. And no promotions will be authorised." A chill ran down Tony's spine. "You mean to say, Sir, that I will not be posted?" Mr. Nepean allowed himself a smile. "No, Captain, I mean to say that we shall have to hurry to get you into the Gazette. Before our politicians, in their infinite wisdom, will ruin a promising career. The relief must have been evident in Tony's features. "Thank you, Sir." "Then, Captain, we shall have to give you some time in your first command. We shall have to send you far away and out of reach. You realise that once an armistice is in effect, most of our ships will be laid up. And your precious frigate, so insignificant now, will be coveted by hundreds of captains on half pay, all of them senior to you. You will therefore escort three prisoner transports from Portsmouth to New South Wales. The Dartmoor was supposed to escort those ships, but she was hit by lightning last week. Your appearance here is a stroke of good luck. Besides, this should give you at least one year in your new command." "I don't know what to say, thank you, Sir!" "Don't thank me, Captain. Just do your duty. You'll receive your orders tomorrow. Make ready for sea. You'll be sailing in a week. Carry on." "Aye ay, Sir!" With that, Tony hurried out. If he was to sail to the other end of the world a week from now, there was a lot to do. A one horse dray brought him to Whitehall embankment where his boat's crew waited for him. Back on board, he informed his officers of the new plans. He secured the help of the ship's purser to assist his steward in replenishing the cabin stores. The members of the wardroom were anxious, too, to obtain sufficient provisions for a journey that would likely take a year to complete. Tony also ordered the crew's provisions to be examined thoroughly and to take an extra consignment of navy rum which was not to be found in the Great South Sea. After he had inundated his officers with various tasks and responsibilities, he sat down at his desk and wrote several letters. He had to inform his faithful housekeeper and lover of the fact that he would not return to Kingston for at least a year. He also wrote a letter to his solicitor in Kingston, to arrange for the financial needs of Rose to be taken care of. Next, he wrote a few billets announcing his presence to the few people he knew in London. He hesitated and then wrote another billet to Lady Lambert whom he knew to have taken residence in London while her husband was stationed in the Baltic Sea. That finished, he called his secretary and had him deliver the billets. It was well past noon when he had a short lunch. Afterwards, he called his boat's crew once more and had himself rowed ashore. A dray took him to Whitehall, and he spent a few precious hours viewing the centre of the British World. When he returned to Medusa, he found several notes on his desk, mostly acknowledging his billets. One of them, however, was an invitation by Lady Lambert, to have tea with her the next day, in Sir Richard's townhouse on Cavendish Square. She also asked him to bring Lt. Lambert. Tony cursed himself for not allowing young Andrew Lambert to visit his family. He quickly wrote a note of acceptance to be delivered the next morning, and then informed his Nº2 of the invitation. Andrew Lambert's relief was evident; he had not seen his family in almost two years. In the evening, Tony returned to shore and had his supper at a restaurant that catered to Navy officers. He used this opportunity to acquaint himself with as many brother captains as possible. He also gathered a lot of information about the situation in Europe and the state of the Navy. The older captains were helpful and kind to the most junior entry in the list of captains. Once the rank of post captain was reached, all promotions and appointments were allotted strictly depending on seniority, the notable exception being the Duke of Clarence, second oldest son of George III., who was promoted with unseemly haste. While this system made for a certain inflexibility, putting able officers under the command of senior, sometimes less able captains, it also served to reduce jealousy among the captains and promote co-operation. When Tony returned to the Medusa, he conceded to himself that he had spend a most delightful and informative evening. The day had left him exhausted, though, and he slept soundly until four bells were sounded on the morning watch. After a brief breakfast, he spend the morning in negotiations with the Navy Yard and Dock Yard officials to obtain enough spare parts and provisions to see him through his long voyage. After lunch, he had a meeting with his officers to discuss their progress. That finished, he dressed in his second best uniform to make his call upon Lady Lambert. A rented cab brought him and his Second Lieutenant, Andrew Lambert, to Cavendish Square where, upon his knock, they were received by a footman and shown into a tea room. He noticed that the table was set for more than just three people. "I suspect, Sir, that my mother will entertain a number of guests," Andrew Lambert confided to his Captain. "This is my first visit here, father purchased the house after his return from the West Indian Station." They heard light footsteps outside, and then Harriet Lambert rushed into the tea room and hugged her brother fiercely. Stepping back, she took in his appearance. "You look distinguished, Andy. Oh my god, I am so happy to see you!" She positively beamed at her brother whom she had barely tolerated as a boy. Remembering her manners, she turned to Anthony Carter. "It is good to see you, too, Captain. Thank you for taking such good care of my brother. And congratulations on your promotion. We all knew that there was a brilliant career ahead of you." Tony bowed to Harriet Lambert. "Well, Miss Lambert, there is no need to thank me. Lt. Lambert took care of himself all right, and I count myself lucky to have him among my officers. And it is good to see you again. I trust you feel comfortable back in London?" "Well, to tell the truth, Captain, I miss the sun. I never realised just how cold it can be in England." Just then, Lady Lambert entered the room. With a short look at Tony Carter to excuse herself, she rushed to her son and embraced him. This outbreak of emotion did not last long, though, and Lady Lambert welcomed her other guest warmly, treating him, in fact, like an old friend of the family. The footman announced the arrival of new guests, and Tony swallowed, hearing the name of Sir John Jervis, Earl of St. Vincent. The First Lord of the Admiralty was a sailor of tremendous fame, having conquered the Spanish Fleet at Cape St. Vincent in a battle that won him an earldom. Lady Lambert certainly was well connected to receive the supreme commander of the Royal Navy and his wife for tea. He realised that this arrangement was primarily for the benefit of young Andrew Lambert, but still, he was elated to meet the First Lord face to face. The tea turned out to be a pleasant affair. Surprisingly and contrary to his reputation, the Earl was a charming man in a salon. But he could not maintain the role of an idle chatter for long. Soon he, Captain Carter and Andrew Lambert were involved in a lively discussion of the naval situation in the West Indies. If his knowledge of facts was astounding, his hunger for new information was even more so. The Earl, in turn, was pleasantly surprised at the depth of understanding the young captain displayed. He had seen his papers this very morning when he approved the promotion, and he knew his background. He made a mental note that this young captain was worth watching. When the guest were about to leave, Lord St. Vincent took Tony aside. "You have a close look at the captains of those prisoner transports. They are as crooked as the worst convicts. Do not take any nonsense from them, d'ye hear? You have that from me, and I'll back you up if need be." "Thank you, milord, I will certainly have a good look at my charges." "It's been good meeting you, Captain. Have a good journey!" With that, the Earl stomped out and Tony prepared to leave, too. "You are not leaving, Captain, are you?" Lady Lambert asked. "Why don't you join us for dinner?" "I really should not intrude on you, Lady Lambert. Lt. Lambert can take his leave tonight. I can return to Medusa alone." "But I insist that you stay, Captain. It would give me pleasure to hear more from you, and I am sure that I am also speaking for my daughter." "Mother!", Harriet Lambert interposed, blushing. "What, dear? Captain Carter is a dear friend and he'll be leaving London shortly. Be a good girl and keep the Captain company for a half hour. There are things I have to show and tell Andrew in private. I'll tell Merryweather to have dinner ready at seven." Left alone, Tony and Harriet were mute for a minute. Tony was the first to speak up. "I hope that you do not resent my foolery anymore. I am really sorry if my indiscretion hurt you." Harriet blushed more deeply. "You don't have to apologise, Captain. It was not my place to make that scene in the first place." She swallowed. "Please, disregard what I said that evening. I am very sorry." With a grin of relief, Tony lifted his tea cup. "To friendship, then?" "To friendship," was Harriet's reply. With the ice broken, the young people began an animated conversation. Tony told her about the journeys and fights, about the life in Kingston. Harriet Lambert, in turn, gave an account of her life since they had parted. She confessed that she had saddened her mother in the last years by turning down three marriage proposals by eligible gentlemen. "I just don't want to spend my life with a man who already bores me stiff before we are even engaged," she confided with a rueful grin. "One suitor had the nerve to even tell me that I should not worry about seeing him too often. That he much preferred spending his time with his friends." "Why on earth would he want to marry you then?" Tony asked, dumbfounded. "He said his mother insisted that he married. And that he would be cut out of her will if he did not. But what about your social life, Captain? A bachelor captain in Jamaica must attract a lot of attention." "I have hardly been on shore since I was promoted. There was no chance of having a social life so far. My neighbours came to congratulate me, though. When the last was gone, my house was in shambles, and my housekeeper needed two days to repair the damages." "Oh, I have heard of your housekeeper while I was still in Kingston." "You have?" Tony tried hard to contain his beginning blush. "Oh yes. I even saw her once in the market. She is very pretty. I suppose she is taking good care of your needs?" A little devil danced in Harriet's eyes. "Quite, quite," Tony decided to join the little game, "she meets with, err, my full satisfaction." "I see. It is so difficult to find good help these days." Harriet grinned shamelessly. "But from what I remember, the arrangement must be highly satisfactory for her, too." "She is positively enthusiastic about her duties," Tony replied in the same vain. Both young people burst out laughing. At this very moment, Lady Lambert returned and she was happy to see that her daughter got along so well with their guest. Although she had discouraged the relationship between her daughter and young Tony Carter in the past, the situation had changed. Her daughter had acquired a reputation of being difficult, and lately, no suitors had shown. And secondly, Tony Carter already had a brilliant start in the Navy, and he was certainly a man to be reckoned with now that he had established himself. Therefore, she was quite content to leave her daughter alone with her guest for a few more minutes. "Would it be impolite of me to leave you with my daughter for a few more minutes, Captain?" she asked. "There are a few household matters I have to attend to before dinner." "It will be my pleasure, Lady Lambert," Tony answered politely while Lady Lambert was already retreating. "You realise, Captain, that you are in grave danger?" Harriet asked with a grin. "Danger from you, Miss Lambert?" "No, danger from my mother. I am 21 and not yet married. You are a bachelor, a natural prey for mothers with unwed daughters." "I'll take that risk cheerfully," Tony answered, seemingly following the banter. But the look he cast to Harriet conveyed a more sincere meaning. "That's what I like in a man: courage in seemingly desperate situations." Harriet's gaze locked into Tony's. There was no hesitation or coyness now. "Is there anything else that you look for in a man?" "Well he should be tall, with straight blond hair. And yes, he should be a Navy officer." "What about his family ties?" "Obviously, to find the right man, a woman has to compromise in certain aspects." Her friendly smile took away any of the sting that could be construed into her words. "What about you. How do you see the perfect woman?" "Let's see. I prefer redheads." To this Harriet snorted. "Redheads with freckles, to be more precise. She should have character, too, and be a little adventurous. She should have a humble family background to make me feel at ease. But then again, one has to compromise in less important matters." "Don't you think it's crazy, Anthony?" "Did I mention that my ideal wife is crazy, too?" "You need not have, it is understood. Who else would have you?" All through their exchange they had moved towards each other on the sofa they were sitting on. Now they were holding hands. Neither of them spoke. Both were contemplating the consequences of what they had just discovered. When Harriet's mother entered, they both had to fight the impulse to break apart and hide their feelings. It was good they did not. "Well, it is good to see that you both could do away with past misunderstandings. Harriet, dear, could you tell Andrew that dinner is ready? Thank you. Captain? This way please to the dining room." Sheepishly, Tony followed Lady Lambert to the dining room. He expected her to either reproach him for his audacity or to ask him about his intentions and he steeled himself for either eventuality. Lady Lambert, however, did nothing of the sort. However, when he offered his arm to her to escort her to her seat, she pressed his offered arm slightly and smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Captain. I know what you want to say. But as long as my husband is in the Baltic Sea, everything has to wait. I take it your interest in Harriet is sincere?" He nodded. "Well, knowing my daughter, I would say she is sincere, too. Why don't you visit us some more in the next days. This should give you and Harriet more time to get to know each other." "You are extremely kind, Lady Lambert. It is not the first time that I noticed this." "Say nothing of it, Captain. I have the interest of my daughter in mind. I don't think that she ever took an interest in any other man after those days in the longboat. You made a lasting expression." Tony blushed slightly and Lady Lambert took delight in his discomfort. At this moment, Harriet entered the room, with her brother in tow. Obviously, she had told him something since he could not repress a grin. There was no further chance of private interaction for Tony and Harriet during dinner, but he was invited for the next evening. When he left after dinner, Harriet made a point of accompanying him to the door while Lady Lambert and her son stayed behind. There was no real intimacy since the footman stood in waiting with the Captain's hat and sword. But Harriet managed to press his hand briefly and he, in turn, kissed her hand with more feeling than courtesy dictated. Sleep did not come easy to Captain Carter back on HMS Medusa. He had gone without a woman for nearly five weeks, and the intimate conversation with Harriet, her closeness and bold innuendoes had done nothing to dull his acute horniness. Yet, to visit a house of ill fame seemed like a bad idea to him. Harriet Lambert, after all, was all he could desire in a woman, and she would not take kindly to it if it became known that he had visited a brothel. Relieving himself in his cot was also out of the question. His steward would see the evidence and that would be bad for discipline. Finally, sleep claimed him and he did not wake up before the next morning. His written orders arrived this morning, together with a copy of the Naval Gazette. There it was, under appointments. 'Anthony Carter, Capt. R.N., appointed to HMS Medusa, Kingston.' He had been posted. His promotion was irrevocable now. Strangely, he had completely forgotten about his worries that some freak incident may still rob him of his captain's rank. He set aside the Naval Gazette for later and studied the written orders. He suddenly remembered that his crew was still in the dark about their new assignment. Tony rushed on deck. The call for all hands had brought everybody on deck, and Captain Carter inspected his crew. Briefly, he informed them of the task to escort the transports to Australia. He saw a few men turn pale, others wanted to voice their displeasure when he cut short any outburst. "Stop this tomfoolery. We have been given a clear order. D'ye understand?" "Aye aye, Sir," came the less than enthusiastic reply from the crew. One of the petty officers, Simpson, raised his hand. "Permission to speak," Tony nodded. "Sir, there's rumour that there'll be peace. We can have a discharge if there's peace, Sir." Simpson had been pressed into the service, just like more than half of the crew. Tony felt bad, but he could not allow this to continue. His authority was at stake. "Simpson, the Navy will not be laid up on account of rumours. Last time I was at the Admiralty, we were still at war. And anyone who thinks he does not have to do his duty in peace times will wish his mother had died childless. If there's peace, we have one worry less on our journey. Mr. Carson, dismiss crew!" The rest of the day was spent with the various chores involved in making a man o'war ready for sea. More paperwork for Captain Carter, a hurried interview with the superintendent of the dockyard. It was late afternoon when Tony announced his plans to go ashore for the evening. The same footman opened the door for Tony, and he was led into the dining room. He had brought flowers for Lady Lambert and for Harriet, a gesture that was well received. He was seated next to Harriet during the dinner, and it was a pleasant meal. When they had finished, Lady Lambert made a point of leaving Harriet and Tony alone under the pretence that she had to give Andrew a letter. Tony accompanied Harriet to the study where the dessert was to be served. Tony nipped carefully at his Port wine, not being a habitual drinker. Both sat on a sofa and soon they held each other's hands. "You will be gone for a long time," Harriet began. "Mother told me it will take a year to be back." "That's likely, Harriet. May I entertain the hope that you will await my return?" "Of course, I will. But will you withstand the temptations of the South Sea?" "You mean the fabled island beauties?" Tony asked amusedly. "We will straight sail for Sydney, and we will not touch any of those islands. Even if we did, your picture before my eyes will harden me against any such temptations." Suddenly, Harriet jumped up. "Please excuse me for a moment! I have just the item you will need." She left and returned a minute later with a miniature painting in a medallion that she handed Tony. It was a rather good image of Harriet, obviously done by a skilled artist. It looked almost alive. "This is to keep my image before your eyes." "Thank you, Harriet. This is beautiful. I will cherish it and view it as a pawn of our love." There it was, the word love. Both realised it with a sense of revelation. "Yes, Tony, this is a token of my love for you," Harriet answered in a small voice. The next moment, she was lying in his arms, their lips joined in a feverish kiss. They could not get enough of each other, they kissed until a friendly voice made them separate. "I don't think the Captain should return to his ship tonight," Lady Lambert told them as if nothing had happened. "I've sent a messenger to Medusa to this effect. You can have a guest room on the second floor in the east wing." Harriet blushed furiously, the east wing also contained her own bedroom. Without being perturbed in the least, Lady Lambert continued, "Perhaps you would be kind enough to show Captain Carter to his room, Harriet?" "Of course I will, mother," Harriet croaked. "If you were to follow me, Captain?" "Thank you, milady, for your hospitality. You are far too kind," Tony managed to say. He followed a flustered Harriet upstairs. She showed him a room that indeed had been readied for the visitor. "Here you are, Captain, I trust you will find your accommodations satisfactory." Harriet had regained some balance, and her mocking voice showed that. Tony responded in kind. "Why, Miss Lambert, this is certainly a princely bedroom compared with my cabin." "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" Her eyes bored into his. "I can certainly think of something, Harriet. But we shouldn't," he answered sincerely. Harriet stepped close to him and looked up into his eyes. "Why do you think my mother gave you this room away from the rest of the family?" She closed the door behind her. "Let me stay with you. We cannot fully consume our love, but I want to be near to you." Her sincerity moved him, and it made him realise that he was close to fulfilling his dreams. Harriet was more than an alluring young woman, she embodied his aspirations to ascend the social ladder and find a place in society. He would certainly not endanger these prospects by betraying the trust of his hostess. But, just the same, he was not about to disappoint the eager expectations of the beautiful young woman who was waiting to sink into his arms. He raised both his hands to her shoulders and drew her close to him. Then he kissed her upturned face, first her forehead, then her eyes, nose, and finally her full lips. For minutes, they remained rooted to the spot, exploring each other's mouth, tasting each other and developing an intimacy that encouraged them to move onward. When they broke their kiss, he led her towards the bed. When he tried to loosen the laces that held her bustier, she stopped him. "Give me a few minutes. I shall be back shortly. Go to bed already and wait for me." She gave him another kiss and left the room. Hurriedly, Tony stripped off his uniform, breeches and stockings and removed his necktie. There was fresh water in a basin on a sideboard, an unaccustomed luxury for a sailor, and there was soap and a razor. Quickly, he whipped up a foam and proceeded to remove his stubble. He then used the soapy water to wash off his body. He had just finished and gone to bed, when the door to his room opened and Harriet stepped in. She had undressed and was wearing a silk dressing gown over her nightshirt. Her glorious strawberry blond hair cascaded over her back and her bosom. She was barefooted. Tony looked at her admiringly when she approached the bed. She stood before him, then, and with a simple shrug of her shoulders, dropped her gown. The white nightshirt hung loosely around her shoulders and it took just another shrug to send it slipping off her body. There she stood before him in a pile of white fabric, like Botticelli's Venus in the foam of the sea. "You are so beautiful, Harriet!" Tony gushed in an awed voice. He quickly got up from the bed, shedding his shirt and taking her into his arms. The contact of their naked bodies made Harriet gasp. She felt his manhood swelling against her belly and the knowledge that it was she who caused this swelling made her body tingle. Never before had she felt a similar excitement. Her nipples stood out from her pert breasts and the feeling of his chest hair tickling them caused an even greater rush of feelings. They kissed passionately, and young Harriet forgot about her resolutions, her mother's admonishments and certainly about silly moral concepts. In a bliss, she felt how Tony lifted her up and laid her on the bed. Tony's kisses now trailed down to her neck. He took his sweet time nibbling on her neck and below her ears, places he knew were sensitive spots for many women. Harriet's breathing attested to the success of his ministrations. Encouraged, he moved his mouth southward to her breasts. Her breasts looked ready to burst, rising up proudly over her chest and topped by small, yet erect nipples. His tongue lavished the flesh of her breast, avoiding the nipples at first. The circles he drew around her nipples with his tongue became smaller and smaller. Her excitement grew, and she thrust up her chest against his mouth. Then finally, his lips latched onto one of her nipples, sucking on it, and she nearly cried out in lust. For the next minutes his lips, tongue and teeth concentrated on her nipples, sending her to higher levels of excitement. When he let go of her breasts, she moaned in frustration, a moan that was cut short by a sharp intake of breath when his tongue speared her navel. While Tony caressed her belly button, her legs wrapped around him and her heels dug into his back, bearing witness to the passion that cursed through her. Harriet was experiencing sensations that far exceeded any stimulation that she had given herself in the past. She was a sensual young woman, but inexperienced. She had never thought and nobody had ever told her that a woman can feel such unbridled passion. She was totally unprepared for the lightning of lust that shot through her when Tony's tongue suddenly left her navel and began to lick the length of her pussy from bottom to top. Her stomach muscles began to flutter uncontrollably, her legs locked around Tony's head, and she began to ride a huge wave of pleasure. When the wave broke, she bit on her fingers to prevent a scream that would have roused her family. Disoriented and confused, she was thankful that Tony had all but stopped his caresses. When finally she recovered her senses and her breathing returned to near normal, he again licked her slit, diving between her labia. She quickly became lost in the sensations again, and when, finally, his lips locked around the little man in the boat, she experienced an explosion going off behind her eyes. When she regained her consciousness, Tony cradled her in his arms, kissing her forehead. "Did I faint?" she whispered, still trying to understand what had happened to her. "Harriet, love, you had what the French call "le petit mort", the little death. It is the culmination of lovemaking and not many women reach this level of passion. You are a wonderful woman, Harriet. You were so beautiful in your lust, you took my breath away." Harriet blushed. "You certainly took my breath away. I have never felt like this before. Is it like this all the time?" "Not always, dear. Everything must be right for this. Tonight was very special." "Did you feel lust, too?" she asked tentatively. "Should I do something for you?" "If you want to, you could return the favour." "You mean, with my mouth..." "With your mouth or, if that's revolting to you, you could do it with your hands." "Well, it wasn't revolting to you to kiss me, down there. How do I have to do it?" "You can start by taking me into you hand. Start stroking lightly. Yes, that's it. Now kiss the tip." Harriet complied reluctantly. Her doubtful expression eased, however, and she began to kiss his member with passion. Then, on her own accord, she began to lick the length of it. She looked up to Tony's face. "Am I doing it right?" "Wonderful, darling. Keep doing that. Can you take the tip in your mouth? Be careful with your teeth, though." Carefully, Harriet wrapped her lips around the tip of Tony's member, applying gentle suction. She began to enjoy the power she held over him when she felt his growing excitement. The taste was not so bad, she thought, and the thought of the wickedness of her doings made her own juices flow again. She pumped his shaft with both hands now, keeping the tip in her mouth. It was not long before she felt the shaft in her hand beginning to pulse, and her mouth was flooded with his seed. An incredibly exciting feeling of power rushed through her and she kept her lips glued to his penis until the last shudder had passed. She did not know what to do then. She did not want to spit for fear of creating suspicious stains on the bedding. At last, she simply swallowed. She felt his hands lifting her up to his face. "That was splendid, darling. You are very talented in these matters." "It was wonderful for me, too." Harriet sighed. "I never thought I could feel such arousal. It almost scared me." Harriet confided. "Do you think you can stay with me for the night?" Tony asked. "It would be very nice to feel you beside me." Harriet sighed again. "I'd love to, Tony. But what if the servants find me in your room? We could never hush that up. I'm sure, Mother planned this. But then, she doesn't really know, so she can pretend nothing happened." "This is weird, Harriet. I wish we did not need this charade." "Me too, Tony. But as soon as you return, you can ask Father for my hand, and then we'll marry." "If he agrees." "Oh, he will. After all, he has always been interested in your advancement. And you have proven yourself worthy of his support. I'm sure he'll be happy that I chose a Navy captain." "We shall see. But I will ask him at the first opportunity, once I am back." "I can't wait," Harriet gushed. Then she kissed him once more and got up. "Good Night, darling." "Good Night, my love! Sleep well!" With that, Harriet left the room. In spite of the whirlwind of emotions Tony was experiencing, he was dead tired and he soon drifted off to sleep. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 5: The Great South Sea Two days later, and after a tearful good bye, HMS Medusa put to sea. After two days of clawing up against the westerly wind, they reached Portsmouth where they were joined by two prison transports. A third transport was not ready yet, waiting for another consignment of convicts from a distant prison. The two other captains insisted on sailing, saying that the prisoners were on board already and had to be fed. Tony, in turn, pointed out that he had to escort three transports. They lobbied with the Harbour Admiral and he sent a messenger to London. New orders were made out for Medusa to sail with the two transports ready for sea. The third transport, the Pretty Jane was to sail later without escort. It was the day after the armistice with France was proclaimed, when the Medusa, followed by the two transports, weighed anchor and left Portsmouth Harbour. On their way west, they met the ships of the mid channel squadron, returning from their blockade of Brest. Their darkened, patched sails spoke of months of hard blockade duty. He received signal from the flagship, Victory, to report to the Admiral. The little convoy hove to, while Tony was rowed across to the flagship. He was led before the Admiral, Sir Charles Parker. "Good day, Captain, and sorry to delay you." "Good day, Sir Charles." "To make this short, Captain, you still have your wartime crew, haven't you?" "Yes, Sir Charles." "Your pressed men couldn't get a discharge, could they?" "No, Sir Charles." "Here's the deal, Captain. There's a lot of sailors on board my flagship who want to remain in the service, volunteers. They'll be more than happy to trade places with any of your ship's company who want to have a discharge. That will leave you with a crew of volunteers, and I know my men will be taken care of." Tony's face brightened. "I have about 85 pressed men, Sir Charles, but I am a bit undermanned. I could take up to 30 additional crew to have my full complement." "I can easily find a hundred and more willing to sail a frigate, Captain. Captain MacFarlane," he spoke to his Chief of Staff, "be so kind and ask the squadron for volunteers. We can finish this in an hour. Thank you Captain, I appreciate your co-operation." "It is me who has to thank you, Sir Charles. May I return to my ship to organise the exchange?" "Yes by all means, Captain. Have a safe trip. You're headed for New South Wales?" Tony affirmed this. "Great chance for you, Captain. Never had a chance myself of sailing the South Sea. Always the bloody blockade duty. Well, you better be on your way." Tony had himself rowed back to the Medusa. To his surprise, only 76 of the 85 men who had been pressed into service wanted to leave the ship. When the volunteers from the Mid Channel Squadron arrived, and those other men had left, Medusa had 15 men over her full complement, a rare luxury. The two transport captains also took the opportunity to hire a few additional hands, to complete their crews. They made good progress in the following days and weeks and finished the first leg of the journey to St. Helena in excellent time. Here, they took water, and inevitably, the officers were invited to dinner with the Governor. Tony was seated with the Governor while his officers sat with the officers of the garrison. They were grilled by their hosts about the newest gossip from England, but it was nice to eat fresh food and drink cooled wine. Three days later, they sailed again. They rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and then made a straight east north east dash for the Timor Straits south of Sumatra. The Timor Straits are a narrow stretch of water between the island of Timor and the Australian continent. This was where ships en route to New South Wales had to pass. Therefore, this was also a part of the journey where there was the greatest danger from pirates. Captain Carter gave orders to his small convoy to sail in close formation and he kept Medusa to windward at all times. The captains of the transports were experienced men, and they did their best to remain in close contact with the frigate. They were off Melville Island when the lookout sang out his "Ship Ho!". It was a Brigantine that was nearing the convoy from windward on a converging course. A brigantine was always bad news, because there were hardly any English ships with such a rigging. Tony's suspicion was roused instantly. When Medusa came to the wind to investigate the strange sail, the brigantine altered course, too, clawing to windward and clearly avoiding the British frigate. Tony resisted the temptation to pursue the stranger; his job was to escort the transports. But he had misgivings about the suspicious sail. The officers had assembled on the quarterdeck. "Damn pirate, if you want my opinion," the sailing master grumbled to nobody in particular. "I dare say you're correct, Mr. Boyle," Tony conceded. "It's a damned shame we cannot run him down. But our duty's with the convoy. He may have an accomplice waiting for us to be lured away." "By God, you're right, Captain. The pirates in these waters are damned cunning. It's time somebody's put a stop to them." "I suppose, there'll be a chance for us on the return journey. Those transports are supposed to wait for the next escort so I'll be free to do some hunting." "I wonder where they have their base. Must be one of the small islands to the north. I just hope, the Pretty Jane will not run into them." Tony thought about that. "I guess, we can try to find them at the entrance to the strait on our way back and escort them as far as the Torres Strait, just to make sure." Mr. Boyle nodded. More was not said. The strange sail disappeared over the horizon, and the convoy continued through the Arafure Sea and the Torres Strait. From there, they ran south easterly along the Great Barrier Reef and past Cape Byron, before they cast anchor in Sydney Harbour, exactly half a year after they had sailed from Portsmouth. Sydney, in the early nineteenth century, had nothing of the beauty it displays today. It was the centre of a penal colony and it looked the part. In addition, it was almost unbearably hot, even for the sailors of HMS Medusa who were used to the Caribbean Sea. Even provisions for the ship were in scarce supply. Tony felt uneasy anyway, about the fate of Pretty Jane, and after a few days in which the crew replenished the water stores, he paid the necessary farewell visit with the governor. With the next morning's land breeze blowing, Medusa began her long voyage home. On the northward journey along the Great Barrier Reef, no sign of the Pretty Jane was seen, but Tony had hoped to rendezvous with the straggler later, beyond the island of Timor. He planned to turn around and escort the transport for as long as there was danger from pirates. He would then go about to return to England. This was the plan, and the Pretty Jane had still not been sighted when they turned westward and sailed through the Torres Straits. They had sailed close to 600 miles on their new course when the lookout in the masthead sighted a small boat. Medusa bore down on the boat which turned out to be a jolly boat. No movement could be seen, but there was a canvas-covered bundle near the stern sheets. Medusa backed her topsails and Tony neatly laid her alongside the small boat. The boat was hooked, and a midshipman jumped down to investigate while everybody watched. He lifted the canvas and started with surprise. "There's two women, Sir!" he cried towards the quarterdeck. "They look dead, Sir!" "Mr. Turner," Tony addressed the ship's surgeon. "Kindly get down into the boat and see what you can make of this." Dr. Turner, a portly man, descended the rope ladder with some difficulty while one of his mates followed him with a bag of instruments. Almost immediately, the doctor turned up to the Captain. "We need some water down here, Sir. They both seem to be alive. Seems like they've been cast out in the boat with no provisions." "Mr. Bell!" the captain addressed the midshipman, "Is there any sign from which ship this boat comes?" "There's 'PJ' burnt into the oars, Sir. I reckon it's the Pretty Jane's jolly boat." "Very likely, Mr. Bell. Boatswain! Have the boat hoisted up on deck!" "Aye aye, Sir!" came the reply of the chief sailor, and within a few minutes, the jolly boat rested on deck in makeshift hocks. Meanwhile, the doctor's ministrations had some effect on one of the young women. Her eyes were open, and she tried to speak. She could not, however, and made a weak gesture to her mouth. "Give her more water!" Tony ordered and sat on his haunches beside the boat. After the poor woman had another quart of water, this time with some rum in it, she was able to clear her throat and whisper a feeble 'Thank you'. "Madam," Tony addressed her, "I am Captain Carter of His Majesty's Ship Medusa. Can you tell me what happened? Is this the Pretty Jane's boat?" To both questions the young woman nodded. She cleared her throat again with an effort and drank another draught of water before she spoke. "I am Clarissa Durning. My father is - was - Captain James Durning of the Pretty Jane. We were attacked by a pirate. My father was killed" - here, she swallowed hard - "defending the ship. The pirates were too many. They killed all the men." "How did you escape, then?" Tony enquired cautiously. "There is a secret hold under the main cabin where I hid. It was horrible. The leader of the pirates, he used the cabin, and in the first night, he..." she swallowed and looked at the blond girl, " ... he had his way with Lucy here. I had to listen to it." She shuddered with disgust. "When I heard him snoring that night, I sneaked out of my hiding place. I had this short sabre, and I cut his head off." Tony had to admire the young woman. That had taken some nerve. "How did you get into this boat?" "They had left the jolly boat trailing. I roused Lucy, and we were able to reach it from the stern windows. We cut the line and drifted away. Then we took oars and rowed in a southward direction. We hoped to reach the main shipping route. We had no hope, really. But we thought, under the circumstances, that is was better to die at sea." "Just a moment, Miss Durning. Do you know which direction the pirates sailed?" Tony interjected. "Northward, I think." "You are a brave young lady, Miss Durning. Did you hear anything about how far the hideout of the pirates may be away." "The leader sneered to Lucy that she would see her new home in two days." "Excellent, Miss, that narrows down the possibilities. We'll find that hideout and then you can watch the murderers of your father swing from a yardarm." Just about this moment, the second young woman slowly regained her consciousness. Clarissa Durning turned to her and hugged her tightly. "Lucy, we're safe! This is a King's ship. We will not die." "You're safe, I'm still a convict," the other woman whispered hoarsely. "Don't say that, Lucy. I'll do anything in my power to get you a pardon." "Would you ask her if she knows anything that may help us locate the pirates?" Tony interjected. The girl Lucy looked up at him and smiled as much as her crackling lips allowed. "You can talk to me directly, Captain. I may be a thief but I can talk." "Sorry, girl. Why don't you have some more water and then I shall ask my questions?" "Yes, please. I can use some water." After she had slaked her thirst, she looked up at him. "Miss Durning has already given me the story of what happened. I just need to know whether there is anything you know that may help us find the pirates and free the other captives." The girl tried to think and started to crinkle her nose, but the sunburn hurt and she relaxed her features. "One of the pirates said we'd be living with them on their island and that it has a good - I don't remember the word, something with anchor..." "Anchorage?" Tony asked. "Yes, anchorage. He said they have a village where they live and that we were the women they needed to start families." "He did not say anything of the whereabouts of that island, did he?" "No, Captain. That's all I remember. They were not talking a lot to begin with." "Well, I guess I will let you two young ladies have some rest. Giles!", he bellowed for his steward. "Sir?" "See to it that the young ladies get the unused chamber on starboard. Have the smith fit a lock to the door and get two cots in there. In the meantime, let them rest in the after cabin and see to it that they have some food." "Aye aye, Sir." "And, Giles, see that they get a gallon of fresh water each to clean up." Giles nodded. "Now if you will excuse me, ladies, and follow Giles here? He'll do his best to make you comfortable." The young women stumbled under deck and Tony Carter went to the chart room, with the sailing master. Together, they studied the charts for a while. "Must be that small island east of Timor, if you ask me, Sir." "Very likely, Mr. Boyle. The chart says it's uninhabited, and there seems to be a good anchorage on the north-western shore. We shall investigate it first." They set a course to the island in question, and the Medusa came to the wind again on a northward course. The excitement of the encounter and the prospect of immediate action galvanised the crew, and it seemed as if Medusa herself was feeling the tension. The ship tossed across the waves on her new course as if she were eager to see action. The officers made use of the afternoon to exercise the gun crews and the small detachment of the Royal Marines exercised on the main deck under their Lieutenant Walker. The two young women did not show, but Giles, the steward, reported that they were snoring in their chamber. The next morning, Tony invited them to breakfast, and when they showed, it became obvious that the sleep had done wonders. They had also used some tallow from the surgeon's stores to moisten their parched lips. They were both a sight to behold. Clarissa Durning was rather tall, probably just a shade under six feet, and while she was by no means skinny, she had a slender, sinewy appearance. The even features of her face were framed by straight dark brown hair that she had tied into a severe bun. She held herself upright, smiled little and did not behave like the 20 year old she said she was. Lucy Gutteridge, on the other hand, seemed very apprehensive. That did not detract from the fact that she apparently had a sunny disposition. She was smaller, about five and a half feet, with blond curls, blue-grey eyes, a wide, full mouth and decidedly female forms. Out of necessity, both women wore men's clothes, but there was no mistaking Lucy Gutteridge for a boy! From her first words the day before, Tony assumed that she was a convict deported to New South Wales, and he was interested in how such a lovely girl had earned such a harsh sentence. "Miss Durning, you already told me a few things about yourself yesterday. But how come that you accompanied your father on this journey? This was hardly a pleasure cruise." "I am to meet my fiancé in Sydney. He is with the New South Wales regiment, Captain Crombie." "I think I met him, Miss. He will be grateful for your escape from those pirates, I'm sure. And you Miss Gutteridge? What on earth did you do to warrant a deportation order?" Lucy swallowed. "You have to ask Judge Wilson, Captain. He sentenced me over an old loaf of bread that I took from the baker to feed my younger brothers and sister. My father died a year ago; he was an apothecary in Winchester. My mother had died five years earlier. We had used up all savings and we were hungry." "Deportation for a loaf of bread seems like a harsh sentence to me. Does your family know where you are?" "Yes, my uncle finally offered to help us, and tried to save me. But the judge had lost his fob watch to a pick pocket the day before, so I heard, and he wanted to set an example." Tony knew enough about the way some judges used their authority to realise that she was likely to have told the truth. "Please, Captain, what are you going to do with me now? Am I still being sent to New South Wales?" "I have to think about the situation, Miss. I'm not promising anything. I have to try and free those other poor women first, but I don't think that I can sail to Sydney again. Sorry, Miss Durning, but I am on my homeward journey. I suppose I could bring you to St. Helena. You could travel to Sydney and your fiancé on the next convoy. I will ask the Governor to take care of you. As for you, Miss Gutteridge, we shall discuss your situation when we have more time. Bringing you back to England may be a bad idea, seeing that your deportation order still stands." "I would do whatever is necessary to help you, Lucy," Clarissa Durning interjected, with a warm smile towards the other girl that completely altered her haughty appearance. She was actually quite pretty when she smiled, Tony realised. "That's good to hear, Miss Durning. Now, Miss Gutteridge, Miss Durning told me yesterday that you were violated by the pirate. I know this is a private matter, but do you need anything?" The girl Lucy looked down, blushing intensely. "No," she whispered, "I don't hurt anymore. It was not as bad as the first time, in the prison." "You were violated in the prison?" Tony asked incredulously. The girl looked straight into Tony's eyes. "The constable who arrested me used my mouth. The prison warden had my maidenhood. Two of the jailers also had their way with me. That pirate was just another man on the list." "I am appalled, Miss. I promise that nothing of this sort will happen to you in this ship. I will do my best to help you." Miss Durning had tears in her eyes. "Oh Lucy, I did not know such things happened. I'm so sorry." Tony felt that the two young women needed to be alone. "Miss Clarissa, Miss Lucy, if you will excuse me, I have to leave you. Feel free to continue breakfast, though." Tony ascended to the quarterdeck to receive the report of the officer of the watch. They had been able to make good way on the northward course over the night. Medusa was showing herself from her best side with the wind abeam, and Tony realised that he had to plan for the landfall. They would, in all likelihood reach the island during the night. It was tricky business to make a landing on an unknown shore during the night. However, it gave them a good chance to take the pirates by surprise. He made the decision and informed his officers in a short briefing. The rest of the day was spend in preparations. The small detachment of Royal Marines, 50 men, all told, would be sent ashore to clean out the pirates' nest while Medusa would take on the ships at the anchorage. His officers and crew had seen this type of action before, and Tony trusted them to execute his orders even in the darkness of an unknown island. It was midnight when they first sighted the surf. Medusa turned to north-west to circumnavigate the island. As Tony had already calculated, the moon rose shortly after midnight, providing them with the necessary light. It was close to six bells (3 a.m.) when the lookout sighted mastheads, and the crew readied themselves for action. Tony asked the girls to hide below the waterline, but Clarissa During was adamant. "I want to watch you smash that scum, Captain. It is my risk. Please, don't send me below." Having other things to worry about, Tony did not press the issue. They were now rounding a small cape, and the anchorage came into full view. Another mile, and the boats with the Royal Marines shoved off, and Medusa shortened her sails. Not a single shot was fired or any other alarm was sounded before Medusa was laid alongside the pirate brigantine. They surprised the anchor watch drunk and asleep and made short work of them. Leaving a few sailors under a midshipman, Medusa cleared and laid herself alongside the captured transport. Here, the pirates were awake and fired their pistols. But the fire of Medusa's swivel guns tore them to shreds, and the Pretty Jane was retaken with just two wounded on the British side. Having secured the prizes, Medusa anchored between the prizes and the shore, with her guns run out and a spring cable on her anchor. This way, she could block any attempt of recapture should the pirates manage to man their boats. No such thing happened, though. Lieutenant Walker of the Royal Marines had surrounded the dozen cabins with his men. The pirates were awake and opened fire on the marines. Lt. Walker had his men return fire to great effect. Once their first volley was fired, the marines charged with their bayonets. This was done so that the captive women would not be hurt by gun fire. A fierce but short fight hand to hand ensued. Two marines were killed by pistol shots, but most of the pirates were killed with cold steel. The rest were captured and bound. Justice on the high seas is swift and without mercy. In the early morning, as soon as the men had had a chance to eat and rest, nooses were roved on the yardarms, and, in short order, the surviving pirates were strung up. Clarissa Durning watched the execution without emotion. When the last man stopped twitching, she sighed. "Now, it's over. Rest in peace, father." The captive women, at this time, were still on shore and under the care of the ship's surgeon. Most of them, he reported, were apathetic after the days of their ordeal. They had been spared nothing by their captors, and Dr. Turner feared not all of them would survive. For the next days, the Medusa's crew worked hard to provision the ship and the prizes. Prize crews had to be detached, and Captain Carter would be short-handed for the return voyage. He was happy for the extra men from the Channel Fleet. He could not hope to recruit men on St. Helena, and he planned to leave the Pretty Jane there under the care of her new owner, Clarissa Durning. Eight days after their arrival, Medusa and her consorts, the Pretty Jane and the pirate brigantine, left the island on a southbound course. One of the freed captives, a woman who had tried in vain to defend her daughter against the general abuse, died of the injuries she had sustained. The rest of the women were slowly regaining their physical health. Surprisingly, it was the prim and proper Clarissa Durning, assisted by her friend Lucy Gutteridge, who energetically took care of her father's erstwhile charges. The women were lodged in the Pretty Jane which sailed under Andrew Lambert's temporary command. Young Andrew, now 21 years of age, took his responsibility seriously. On the suggestion of Clarissa Durning he had placed some of the women passengers in charge of the pantry. That took some strain from his small prize crew, and it also gave the women a task and the men some reprieve from the lousy cooking they were accustomed to. Luckily, the weather was moderate. The three vessels made steady progress, and Tony felt justified that he had chosen a direct course for St. Helena instead of trying to reach British possessions in India. In the meantime, things on board the Pretty Jane became complicated for Lt. Lambert. It had become the habit of Clarissa Durning and Lucy Gutteridge to join Andrew on the quarterdeck of the Pretty Jane at sunset. He would inform them on the progress of their journey and they would discuss matters regarding the female passengers. Lately, Lucy would stay behind when Clarissa went below deck, and she would continue to talk to young Andrew. Young Andrew Lambert was quite smitten with the lovely, blonde girl. The way she carried herself in the face of an uncertain future impressed him even more. Lucy, on the other hand, was flattered that a young gentleman would treat her with courtesy and respect. They were some 200 miles east of St. Helena, when the Pretty Jane signalled that Lt. Lambert wished to talk to his Captain. The little convoy hove to briefly, to allow the jolly boat to reach the Medusa. Lt. Lambert was shown into Medusa's after cabin. "Well, what is it, Mr. Lambert?" Tony asked formally. "Sir, this is a rather personal matter, but I feel that I have to tell you." "Yes?" Tony asked when Andrew Lambert failed to continue. "Well, Sir, it happened yesterday evening during the second dog watch, Sir. Miss Lucy was on deck and we were talking. This has become a habit in the past days, us talking, I mean. When I escorted her down the hatchway, she sort of stumbled, but I managed to hold her and prevent her from falling." Tony grinned. This was the classic ruse of a woman who wanted to jump start a relationship with a shy man. "Pray, continue, Mr. Lambert." "Well, Sir, it sort of happened when I held her. Suddenly, we were kissing and, well, we ended up in my cabin. I am most sorry, Sir, that I have in such a way betrayed your trust. I had fancied Miss Lucy all those weeks, and I lost control. I will bear the consequences as you see fit, Sir." Tony could not help but grin. He stood and stepped beside the poor lieutenant, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Listen Andrew, did you force her?" "No Sir, she was more than willing, Sir." "Then there is nothing to be said. You know, it's not a crime to fall for a beautiful girl. We are officers, not saints. I would, however, suggest that you make a decision on how you plan to treat the girl upon our arrival. Do you think that she cares for you?" "She said so, Sir." "Do you care for her?" "Yes, Sir," Andrew replied emphatically. "I see. I want you to return to your command. Have a talk to the girl. Find out what she wants out of your relationship. Decide if you can give that. Then, let me know, and we shall see about it." "You're not relieving me of the command, Sir?" "For heaven's sake, Andrew, why should I? Just try to be discreet about it. It would be a bad idea to have your crew think that the women are fair game, especially after the ordeal they have been through. Dismiss!" "Aye aye, Sir!" Andrew Lambert turned and left the cabin to return to the Pretty Jane, leaving a chuckling Tony. He wondered, however, what to do about Lucy Gutteridge. He doubted that Lady Lambert would be delighted if her son returned with a convict for a bride. He decided to have a talk to the girl as soon as they reached St. Helena. Two days later, around noon, HMS Medusa, with the transport and the captured brigantine, cast anchor at St. Helena. For the next days, there were a hundred things to do. Tony also had to confer with the governor about the fate of the women. His Excellency decided that those women who had accompanied deported relatives and were not convicts themselves were to return to England with Medusa and the captured brigantine. The rest of the women were to wait for the next convoy, due in three month's time, as was Miss Durning. This gave occasion to a number of tearful farewells, not the least of them between Clarissa Durning and Lucy Gutteridge. The former had beseeched Captain Carter in a private interview to find a way for the latter to return home. Actually, that was quite easy. Having taken charge of the prisoner's papers from the Pretty Jane, Tony found it easy to destroy the deportation order for Lucy and list her as accompanying relative. He also talked to the girl in private. "You are aware of the fact that Lt. Lambert's family will not receive you with open arms, are you?" he asked with a smile to take the sting out of his words. "I never expected him to present me to his mother, Captain. You have to believe me that I really like him. We were carried away, but it was just as much my doing. I will never demand anything of him. But I would be eternally grateful to you if were to find a way for me to return to England and my siblings." Tony smiled. She played her cards well. "I have already listed you as an accompanying relative, and we shall convey you back to England. Somehow, it seems, your deportation order was lost," he added with a wink. When comprehension dawned upon Lucy, he was rewarded with a beaming smile and a spontaneous kiss. She backed away immediately, making it clear that she did not intend to offer more than this kiss. Smiling apologetically, she said, "Perhaps I would show you more gratitude if I had not met Mr. Lambert first. But I could never do anything that might hurt him." "Don't worry, Miss Lucy. I do not expect anything. It would be a bad idea anyway, seeing that I plan to marry Lt. Lambert's sister." "Yes, indeed," she laughed. Then she sobered. "Is this the reason that you help me? To help him keep his paramour?" "It's an added advantage. But I helped you mostly because I like you. And because you did not deserve a deportation." "But what if I lied to you about my sentence?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "I admit to reading your deportation order before I destroyed it. It matches your story. Anyway, you will stay in the spare chamber where you lodged with Miss Durning." "And the rest of the women?" she enquired. "The midshipmen will have to give up the gun room for them." "Will that not raise suspicion, the special treatment that I receive?" "That cannot be helped. I cannot have a lovesick lieutenant stalking the women's quarters. Just be discreet about it." "We will, Captain. Thank you." After a week at anchor, Medusa and the pirate brigantine were provisioned and left for the second leg of the homeward journey. On the first leg, the Cape of Good Hope had provided them with a few days of nasty weather, but the rest of homeward journey was a pleasant experience. When they neared European waters, however, Tony stepped up his precautions. He had no idea whether England and France were still at peace with each other. Accordingly, sail and gun drill became a common practice again. When they reached the Channel, they met a British frigate, HMS Clorinda, en route for Brest. They learned that the armistice was still holding but that renewal of hostilities appeared to be a matter of weeks only. Fourteen months after leaving London Harbour, HMS Medusa cast anchor in the pool of London, amidst bustling activity. It was easy to see that the Navy was reactivated in preparation to the expected new outbreak of the war. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 6: Return to England Tony reported to the Admiralty and, after waiting for an hour, was admitted to the office of the secretary, Mr. Nepean. For a nerve wrecking ten minutes, that gentleman read and reread the report. In the end, he looked at Tony over his half glasses. "It's a good thing that you are covered by the Harbour Admiral's explicit orders. Leaving behind parts of a convoy is not our policy." He waved aside Tony's attempt to explain. "As I said, you acted under direct orders of a superior officer. No blame attaches to you. It is to your credit, though, that you smoked out that pirate's lair. And a prize captured, too. Well done! That brigantine you captured can run dispatch service. The Navy will purchase her. "Medusa will join the advance detachment of the Channel Fleet. We only have the Hotspur sloop under Commander Hornblower to watch Brest at the moment with the Clorinda on her way, too. You will take the same station and patrol the goulet and report what the French are up to. I shall give you a week in harbour, though, for repairs and fittings. There's no telling when you will be back in port. Your orders will be written tomorrow. And now I have to bid you farewell, Captain. Continue your good service." "Aye aye, Sir. Thank you." was Tony's only possible reply to this cavalier dismissal. He next targeted his steps to Cavendish Square. A uniformed footman opened the door and informed him that the family was not residing in London at the moment. Then he stepped back. When he returned, he produced a sealed letter. "This letter was left in my care. I was ordered to hand it to you, Sir. I am most sorry that I cannot be of more help to you. Good day!" With that, the door was closed and Tony stood in the street with the letter in his hands, none the wiser. Quickly, he ripped open the envelope. To his surprise, it was not written by Harriet, but by Lady Lambert. "My dear Captain Carter," he read, "it it with deep regret that I have to inform you that my daughter has agreed to marry the Honourable Rupert Palmer, eldest son and heir to Lord Brougham. The wedding took place on the 9th of August after a very brief engagement. My daughter has been ill for some time and I would ask you, for our old friendship's sake, not to try and interview her. Harriet made it quite clear that she will not talk to you, for reasons I cannot go into. I ask you, therefore, not to exacerbate an already very embarrassing situation. Please be assured that my husband and I will remain your friends. Yours in friendship Eleanor Lambert" Tony leaned against a garden fence, trying to comprehend. He reread the letter twice before the impact settled in on him. His mood, already darkened by the haughty treatment he had received at the Admiralty, shifted into a cold fury. Harriet had betrayed him! Not only that, but she had humiliated him. Thoughts of seeking her out, challenging her husband to a duel, killing him, entered his enraged mind. He walked to the harbour in a brisk step, thinking of what to do and how, his mind a veritable maelstrom of dark thoughts. Nevertheless, it was that walk that saved his sanity. While stomping along his way, realisation set in. There was nothing he could do. Harriet's marriage was a fait accompli. Nobody knew about their secret promises. If he, however, started a scene, the laugh would be on him. What he had to do, to keep his dignity, was to show no hurt. He must not give Harriet the satisfaction of making a fool of himself. He would act unperturbed. It would be difficult, to be sure. Thinking of her cut into his chest with a physical pain. Another thought hit him. Andrew Lambert would know about this. He briefly contemplated a revenge by accusing his second lieutenant of dereliction of duty for the affair with Lucy Gutteridge. But he knew that he could not do this. He would not exact a revenge by ruining an innocent and loyal officer. When he reached the harbour, he was thoroughly soaked in sweat with the exertion and the emotional uproar. His gig was waiting and he transferred to Medusa. After changing his soaked shirt, he called his officers to his cabin and informed them of their new orders. He was curt to the point of being abrasive. He delegated the tasks necessary for the refitting of the ship after a very long voyage. They needed to renew almost their entire supplies and they needed to do this fast. A week was barely enough time. In the middle of the discussion, Lieutenant Carson spoke up. "Sir, while you were ashore, I received orders to report to the Admiralty. I will be promoted Commander, Sir, and I have to take command of my new ship as soon as possible, Sir." Captain Carter forced a smile on his face. "Congratulations, Mr. Carson! I cannot allow you to leave this ship before we had a chance to toast you. Giles! A bottle of wine and glasses, quickly!" The wine appeared, and the officers brought a toast on the newest commander and cheered him. Tony shook his hand and thanked him for his good and loyal service. Then Mr. Carson touched his hat. "Permission to leave ship, Sir?" "Permission granted. Good luck, Commander!" When Carson had exited the cabin, Tony looked at Andrew Lambert significantly. "Congratulations to the new Nº1! It's always better to be promoted through an advancement, rather than a death. And you'll have a week in port to acquaint yourself with your new duties. I rely on you to bring Medusa back in shape." Andrew Lambert swallowed hard. "Could I have a word with you in private, Sir?" Tony nodded, and the other officers filed out of the after cabin. "Sir, I have received a letter from my mother about, well, about my sister and what she did. I am truly mortified, Sir. I would understand it, if you wanted me to leave the Medusa." "Andrew, let us not pretend that this matter did not hurt me," Tony began in a strained voice, "but I need a loyal and competent Nº 1. You are as innocent of this unpleasant affair as any man on this ship. I trust you and I need you. So, unless you want to leave us for a different reason... ?" "No Sir, your trust makes me proud, and I will not disappoint you." "I am sure of this. Carry on, Mr. Lambert!" "Aye aye, Sir!" Perhaps it was a good thing that Captain Carter and his crew had to work hard to make Medusa ready for sea again. After a few days, the feeling of loss had all but left his conscious thinking. But the bitterness was only lurking under the surface, waiting to break through. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps simple coincidence. Captain Carter had been to the Admiralty to check for any last minute changes to his orders and he was walking through Whitehall. He turned a corner and was almost face to face with Harriet Palmer. A portly young man was at her side. His red face and watery eyes bespoke an intimate acquaintance with good food and drink. He saw that his wife and the strange navy officer stared at each other. "Do you know this gentleman, Harriet? Why don't you introduce us?" "I am Captain Anthony Carter, at your service," Tony replied with great effort. "Rupert Palmer, nice to make your acquaintance. Do you know my wife?" Harriet was still speechless, and her face was beyond pale. It was Tony who answered. He spoke in a barely audible voice for fear of letting his emotions show. "Yes indeed. I had the the privilege to be of assistance to Sir Richard's family, back in '96 when he was Commander in Chief in Kingston, Jamaica." Harriet, too, found it difficult to speak. "Yes, he saved our lives during a hurricane." Rupert Palmer looked at his wife with a fleeting expression of disgust on his face. This was not lost to Tony's eyes. Add to that the pale face of Harriet, and the pain in her eyes, and Tony realised that there was no love between the Palmers. "Is that so, Captain?" Palmer asked without much interest. "Then I have to thank you, too. Why don't you visit us for tea? I am sure, my wife will love to talk about the old times, eh?" The tone conveyed that Mr. Palmer was none too enthusiastic. "I am most sorry, Mr. Palmer, but I am about to leave the harbour. I only just now received my final orders at the Admiralty. Perhaps another time." "Pity. Maybe next time you're in London, Captain. Been a pleasure. Have a safe trip!" "Thank you. Good day." The Palmers resumed their walk, but were stopped in their tracks when Tony hailed after them. "Mrs. Palmer, have you lost something?" Harriet Palmer turned, visibly shaken. "What would that be?" she asked with a faltering voice. "Only this medallion. It bears your image, if I'm not mistaken." And he held the medallion that Harriet had once given him as a token of her love. "Keep it," she managed to say. "Oh I couldn't. That would not be in good taste. And now, if you will excuse me, fare well." The panic in Harriet's face somehow pleased him and he turned to leave. But now, he was held back by Rupert Palmer. "What is this business with this medallion, Captain? Is there anything I should know? I have never seen this medallion before and perhaps you can explain this." "I am sure that your wife can explain everything. Have a good day!" That would take some explaining on Harriet Palmer's side, he thought grimly while he strode towards the harbour. She had it coming, he tried to convince himself. Still, the look of pain and hurt in her eyes followed him over the next days. When Medusa left the pool of London that afternoon, nobody on board knew that it would be a very brief journey. They reached their station off Brest after five days and found the frigate Clorinda and the sloop Hotspur already patrolling the Goulet, the entrance to the harbour of Brest. They learned that hostilities had commenced already. Hotspur had had a skirmish with a big French frigate, the Loire, but had been able to escape. Captain Hosier of the Clorinda was the senior officer at the station and he ordered that the three ships should take turns patrolling the narrow estuary. Three days later, on a misty morning, Medusa was running slowly up the Goulet against a strong ebb tide when the lookout spotted a ship approaching from Brest. It was good that Medusa was ready for action, her guns run out, as always when she patrolled enemy waters. Tony suspected that the French captain planned to surprise the small Hotspur which had patrolled the Goulet the day before, unaware that he would face an English frigate instead. There were only seconds to prepare for the encounter. Medusa tacked and then, as the Loire closed in, turned. Both ships were a pistol shot apart from each other, on parallel courses, when both broadsides exploded in fire and smoke. The encounter had come about so suddenly that nobody felt any fear. On one hand, Tony was confident that his experienced crew would prevail. On the other hand, he felt a strange fatalism. So what if he fell today! Nobody cared about him anyway. With a conscious effort he forced those glum thoughts away. He began to walk the deck to co-ordinate the firing, but he also was acutely aware of the navigational hazards of a gun battle in these narrow waters. The broadsides became ragged, since the better gun crews fired and loaded faster. The continuous firing made it hard for the officers to keep a cool head. Once again, the experienced British had an edge over the French crew. Through the curtain of powder smoke, they could see the main mast of the enemy tumble and collapse. This was their opportunity! With the sails of the broken mast hanging over the gun ports, the French could not fire for fear of igniting the canvas. Tony gave orders to shorten sail and close in on the enemy. A final broadside was fired with grapeshot, and when the ships crashed into each other, the English swarmed over the side to board the French frigate. Once again, Tony found himself in a hand to hand combat. And once again, the fencing lessons and the daily practice paid off. Step by step the attackers forced the decimated French crew back towards the quarter deck. The French captain came forward to challenge Tony. He was a good swordsman, too, and they circled each other for minutes, attacking and counter attacking. At last, Tony saw his chance when the French captain lunged again. He side-stepped the thrust, and with a backhanded swing of his sword hit the neck of his adversary. Now, a new wave of Royal Marines boarded the Loire and joined the fight, and it was this final onslaught that broke the defence. The French, or what was left of them, surrendered and were herded into the ship's hold to be guarded by the marines. The seamen in the boarding party made haste to get the Loire under sail again. Once the ship was under control, the Medusa and her prize made for the open sea, and Captain Carter was able to assess the damage. Medusa had suffered several shot holes under the waterline, and while they could be plugged provisionally, she needed to be docked for permanent repairs. Therefore, after a brief exchange with Captain Hosier, the Medusa sailed for Portsmouth with her prize following her under the command of Andrew Lambert. The wind favoured them, and they reached Portsmouth after just two days. When the two frigates entered the harbour, the Loire flying British colours over the Tricolore, the church bells rang, and the crews of the navy ships at anchor cheered them. It was the first naval victory in the newly resumed war and as such, significant. When the wounded and the prisoners had been landed, both ships were docked to effect the necessary repairs. An Admiralty agent assessed the Loire. She was a large frigate and almost new and he determined her fair value at £11.000. One quarter of this was the Captain's share, almost £3000. Tony was a wealthy man now, his total fortune added up to almost £10,000. He would be able to buy an estate in England and his thoughts were moving in this direction. A week later, a messenger wearing the uniform of the Royal Household delivered a message to "Captain Anthony Carter, Esq." to report at St. James Palace "as soon as convenient", meaning of course, as fast as he could. Andrew Lambert also received orders to report to the Admiralty, and the Harbour Admiral, Sir Charles "Dreadnought" Foster, provided them with passes for the post chaise to London. Tony already had an idea of what awaited him, and he wore his best uniform when he reported to the guards the next morning. He was led to the audience hall and presented to the king. George III had been battling madness for years, but he seemed quite lucid on this morning. Tony desperately tried to remember all he knew about courteous behaviour. He was never to turn his back to the king, he knew. At the same time he was conscious of the fact that even his best uniform was sorely lacking elegance compared with what the other gentlemen in attendance wore. But then the king spoke to him and he tried his best to get his wits together. "We congratulate you on your brave conduct, Captain. We are very pleased with your service and we have decided to show our appreciation." "Your Majesty is far too kind," Tony managed to say in response. "Kneel, Sir!" a man in a purple coat commanded. When Tony knelt, his head bowed, he felt the accolade and the words that proclaimed him to be Sir Anthony Carter, Companion of the Bath. A ribbon and a small star were fixed to his breast, and a purple coat was placed over his shoulders. When he stood again, the old king smiled at him. "My felicitations, Sir Anthony." "My heartfelt thanks, Your Majesty!" And then he was led away, while another officer, a dragoon, was ushered before the king. Tony, meanwhile, received the congratulations from several officials and then found himself face to face with the Earl of St. Vincent. "My congratulations, Sir Anthony!" "Thank you, milord." "I am sorry to drag you away, Captain, but I need to give you your new orders." "Certainly, milord. I suppose we can leave?" "Of course we can. Do not fool yourself. The people here have already forgotten you. It's a damned madhouse, that's what it is! Let's go." A coach was waiting outside the palace to bring them to Whitehall and to the Admiralty. On the short way, the Earl already gave Tony the first pointers. "You will sail for San Domingo. Boney has left a mess there. His expedition force no longer exists and the blacks own the island now. I want you to contact the black leaders and see what they are up to. Offer them a non-aggression treaty. If they don't bother us, neither will we bother them. But tell them we will not tolerate piracy. You will hear more at the Foreign Office this afternoon." Tony perked his ears at that. This would be an important mission, no doubt. "You will transfer your crew to the Frenchman you captured, the Loire. The reports from the dockyard say that Medusa has to undergo a more lengthy repair. She's been on the sea for over seven years, and she urgently needs a complete overhaul. But we do not have the time. Besides, that Frenchman is probably the better ship anyway. We will send you some replacements for the officers and crew you lost." "But, milord, I did not lose officers," Tony interjected. "Yes, but you will," the Earl smiled, "young Mr. Lambert will be posted Captain to the Medusa once she's repaired. On the surface, it's a compliment to you, but we also have to make my old friend, Sir Richard Lambert, happy, eh?" Tony sighed. "I am sure, Andrew Lambert will be a good captain for the Medusa. But I need at least one experienced officer, milord. I lost two First Lieutenants in a month." "We have the right man for you. A Mr. Fortescue." "Sounds rich, milord," Tony remarked. "Indeed. A sprig of nobility. Has experience, though. His last appointment was flag lieutenant to Sir James Saumarez. They did not get along, and Sir James wanted to get shot of him. First Lieutenant in a frigate will be a splendid new start for the young man, and that will please his uncle, Lord Parry." "Who is a Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty." "Precisely, Carter. It always amazes me to see how flawlessly the cogs of nepotism interact." St. Vincent's cynicism was blatant. Tony's head was whirling already, but when they reached the Admiralty he was whisked away by a succession of admirals and secretaries who gave him instructions, written and oral. Then, he was sent to the Foreign Office where a real Undersecretary of State took time out of his schedule to give Tony information on the political situation on San Domingue and the course His Majesty's Government was pursuing. His Lordship was delighted to hear that Tony spoke a little French and Spanish and was aware of the overall situation in the Caribbean. It was early evening when a tired and famished Tony Carter left Whitehall. The Admiralty had secured a room for him at the Royal George Inn where the post chaise to Portsmouth would pick him up on the next morning. After changing his shirt and uniform coat, he repaired to the guest room and ordered a dinner worthy of the occasion. He was delighted when Andrew Lambert entered the guest room. "They told me that you were lodged here, and I wanted to congratulate you, Sir Anthony." "Well, let me congratulate you, too, Captain Lambert! Have a seat! We have to celebrate." "Yes, indeed, thank you, Sir Anthony." It was a nice evening. Tony gave Andrew Lambert a few pointers as to what to watch out for when he would take over the Medusa. Over wine and cheese they discussed the qualities of the Loire. But when the professional topics were exhausted, talk turned to personal matters. "I heard that you met my sister and her husband, Sir. She was very hurt when you gave her back that medallion. I thought she had it coming, the way she treated you. But something is wrong and I am worried about her. I have never seen her so subdued." "I suppose it was stupid and petty of me to embarrass her," Tony admitted. "I shouldn't have done it. Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk. What's with the girl, Lucy?" "Everything is cleared up," Andrew beamed. "I wanted to deliver her into my parent's care, but my sister surprised me by offering her to stay with her. Father wrote to the judge in Winchester and her sentence was remanded. She is attending school again to complete her education. I suppose, now that I am a Captain, we can become engaged." "You really love the girl, then?" "Yes. You know her, Sir. She is a good girl, and brave." "You know, I wish you all the luck. Should I be in England when you marry her, I will gladly attend the wedding. That is, if your family approves." "They will, of course. They are very proud of you. Mother would have liked you as her son in law. She is not enthusiastic about Rupert Palmer. He is supposed to be a gambler, and rumour has it that he has squandered most of his fortune. I think Harriet made a big mistake, if it was her decision." "Well, that cannot be changed. Enough of this. Shall we have another bottle?" "I'm sorry, Sir Anthony, but I need to get on my way." "Right. I had better turn in as well. It has been quite a demanding day. I will finish this glass though. But don't let me keep you. Thank you for dropping by. I wish you all the best for your new command!" "Thank you, Sir Anthony. Good bye!" When Andrew Lambert had left, Tony looked at his fob watch. It was nearly 8 o'clock. It was not yet time to turn in. Idly, he let his gaze sweep over the guest room. Across from his own table, an elderly gentleman was sitting with a beautiful young woman. She was wearing very expensive jewellery and an excellently tailored dress that drew attention to her trim figure. Although she was by no means flat chested, she had a trim body that did not depend on a corset. Her chestnut coloured hair contrasted nicely with her creamy skin and very bright blue eyes. A generously proportioned nose and full, red lips completed a very attractive picture. The gentleman was obviously courting the young woman. Tony supposed her to be an actress on a night out with an admirer. While he watched the couple surreptitiously, the peaceful tete a tete was suddenly interrupted when a stately lady rushed into the guest room and confronted the pair. "Well, Mortimer, why don't you introduce me to this woman?" she asked belligerently. The young woman blushed with embarrassment, but the older man was literally squirming on his chair. When neither of them found words, Tony stood. "I am afraid there is a misunderstanding, Madam. The young lady is my guest. She only joined your husband briefly when he professed his admiration for her acting." He pointed at his table which was clearly set for two. "Yes, indeed, dear," the old man chimed in hastily. "It was just a chance meeting. I recognised her from the wonderful performance that she gave at the Drury Lane Theatre last week. Don't you remember her? She gave the Ophelia." His wife was almost convinced, but still suspicious. "And whose plate is that on your table?" she asked her husband. "Roger Willcox, dear. He dined with me. We had to talk about some business." The lady was now in retreat. "I am most sorry if I offered any offence to anybody. I shall remember my manners better next time. Shall we leave now, or do you wish to have some more wine?" Mortimer almost choked. "No dear, I was finished. Let us leave." He turned to Tony and the young woman. "Please excuse the misunderstanding. Sir, Madam, good night." And they left. The young actress eyed Tony for a moment and then she sauntered over to his table. Tony rose and held her chair while she sat down. She smiled up at him. "That was very nice of you to interfere on my behalf. I did not know that he was married. I hate that part of my profession. Have you seen me in the theatre?" "No, I am afraid not, madam. You see, I just came to London this morning." "Vying for a command at the Admiralty? London's full of captains like you." She smiled to take any sting out of these words. "Wrong again. I have a command. If you want to know, I came to London on royal orders. His Majesty deigned to appoint me Companion of the Bath. Sir Anthony Carter, at your service." The actress's eyes lit up. "You captured that French frigate off Brest, didn't you? I read about it in the Morning Chronicle just yesterday." Tony admitted that he had. "And you are all alone on such an evening?" "As you could see, Madam, I dined with a fellow officer and friend. But apart from him, I have neither friends nor family in London. But you did not tell me your name." "Anita Heyworth." "I must remember to visit the theatre when I return to London." "Admit it. You have never heard of me!" "Guilty as charged, Madam. I am from Jamaica and I spent a total of three weeks in London in my entire life." "This is so funny. Half the cavaliers of London would give their right eye for the privilege of dining with me. And I am sitting with the one man who has never heard of me." "Does that hurt your vanity?" Tony asked, cocking his head. "Immensely," the woman laughed. "But what shall we do now?" "Well, I could order another bottle of wine. Or I could walk you home." "First one, than the other, if that suits you, Captain." "I wouldn't know a better way to spend the evening," Tony answered and ordered another bottle and a new plate of cheese. For the next hour they continued their conversation. She gave Tony the gossip of London. Among other things, he found out to his secret delight that Rupert Palmer had spent more than £2000 on gifts for the lovely Miss Heyworth, without success as she assured Tony. She found Tony Carter a good listener and was surprised that he did not boast about his achievements. The men she usually met, her admirers, were never tired of telling her how important they were. This man, however, seemed reluctant to talk about himself, almost shy. When it was time for the landlord to close, Anita Heyworth had decided to embark on a little adventure of her own. Tony accompanied her to her lodgings. It was not far and they walked the short distance in a companionable silence. Tony had a vague idea that his new acquaintance might be interested in him. At her door, she hesitated for a moment, but then she put her hand on Tony's arm. "Won't you ask me whether you may come in? You know, usually the men beg me to invite them." When Tony looked into her bright blue eyes, he was surprised to see that she awaited his answer anxiously, that she actually feared rejection. He simply smiled at her and bent down to kiss her full red lips. He felt how her lips began to smile under his kiss, and then she pushed him away at arm's length. "I almost thought I had lost my touch, Captain," she laughed, obviously at ease again. She became serious. "Do not misunderstand this situation. I am an actress. I have to date some of my more generous admirers. But those dates end at this door. Always. I don't know why I feel different towards you, but I do. But when you enter my lodgings, you must promise me never to brag about this night to anybody. Will you do that?" "Whatever will happen this night will stay between us two. That I promise." "Come in then, Tony. Shall I call you Tony?" "By all means, yes," he answered while he followed her. Her lodgings had several rooms, well kept and with good quality furniture. Miss Heyworth had taste and generous admirers, that much was a given. She led him straight to her bedroom where she bade him sit on her bed and get comfortable. He complied, taking off his heavy uniform coat. He watched while she carefully took off her make up and combed her lustrous hair. Slowly, he loosened his stock and unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked off the buckled shoes and pushed down his tight fitting breeches. Sitting naked on her bed, he watched as she, in turn, shed her dress, stockings and undergarments, until she stood before him in all her naked glory. "I see that you appreciate the view," she taunted him, looking pointedly at his engorged penis. "You are not shy, are you? Most men cover their privates when they are naked." Tony laughed shortly. "My hands are not big enough anyway," he stated modestly. "My, you are a saucy fellow," Anita giggled. "Let us not waste our time, then." Anita joined Tony on the bed. He moved up and she lay beside him, kissing him. Those kisses heated up when Tony began to caress her pert breasts. He moved his mouth down to her throat, then, and kissed her neck and her shoulders. Moving further down, he let his tongue circle the aureola of her left breast, teasing the nipple now and then, while his hand moved along her back to her firm buttocks. Suddenly, Anita gently pushed him away onto his back and straddled his hips in one smooth movement. She deftly opened her lower lips using her left hand's middle finger and then guided Tony's swollen cock into her love canal. The head slowly entered her, and she held back, undulating her hips and getting used to his girth. She was not fully wet, and Tony resisted the temptation to slam into her. Instead, he busied himself caressing her breasts. Her rosy nipples were the size of gold sovereigns, and they rose into pointed nubbins under the touch of his lips and tongue. "Yes, suck my titties, Tony," she moaned. She sank down further, and Tony's cock penetrated her deeper and deeper. Finally, when he was fully seated in her, he felt resistance at the tip of his cock and the girl gasped. He had bottomed out, and his penis bumped against her cervix. "Easy," Anita panted, "let me adjust. You are big!" If anything, her words caused his dick to swell even more. Anita began to ride it carefully, her forehead knitted in intense concentration and already shiny with perspiration. Tony held himself back and simply enjoyed the exquisite feelings and the beautiful sight of the actress as she impaled herself carefully time and again. Anita began to pant harder, her face and even her chest flushed, and her movements became more urgent. She was now generously lubricated by her own flowing juices, and her throaty moans mixed with the squishing sounds that emanated from her stuffed pussy. As she sped up her movements, Tony threw caution to the wind and began to match her thrusts with his own hips. He bent forward and latched his lips onto her slender neck. He alternated by nipping her skin with his teeth, and when he sucked her throat again, he felt her shiver. Once more she pressed herself down on his prick with all her weight, and then she shuddered in the throes of her release. It took her more than a minute to regain her senses, and then she noticed that Tony's cock was still lodged deep inside her and still hard. After a long and smouldering kiss, Tony stood up with his cock still in Anita's pussy. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he turned around and gently laid them on the bed. Starting with short, gentle strokes, he began to fuck her from atop, all the while nibbling on her throat. He knew that he was close to his own release, but he wanted to prolong the wonderful moment. Slowly, he picked up speed, but soon his restraint was gone and he began long rhythmic strokes. Her legs rose higher until they came to rest on his shoulders. Deeper and deeper he pounded into her, their moans increasing with each thrust. When he felt that his own release was imminent, he released her legs and lowered himself onto her chest. He felt her legs wrapping tightly around his hips, and her heels dug into his lower back with each of his thrusts, urging him on. Finally, he kissed her hard and, with their mouths locked, he shot his seed deeply into her. Her pussy gripped his shaft, and he felt another violent shudder washing over Anita as she climaxed once more. For a minute, he just lay on top of her, completely spent. When he came out of the post-coital stupor, however, he propped himself up on his arms. Anita opened her blue eyes, and with both hands caressed his face. Then she pulled him down for another long kiss. When he tried to lift himself up, she would not let him. "Stay with me," she smiled, "I like to feel your weight." She tightened her cunt to grip his softened member, but he was too spent to respond. "I want you to stay in me for the rest of the night," she said with a dreamy voice, "nay, for the rest of my life. We could just hole up in here and never leave bed again." "We would starve," Tony replied with a smile, "and I don't want to die. Life is too wonderful right now." "Yes, but tomorrow you will leave. You will go to sea, you will sail to the ends of the world, and I may never see you again. What we had tonight can never be repeated, you know." "Why, Anita, don't you want to see me again?" Tony asked surprised. "Oh yes, I want to see you again. But we can never recapture this evening," she stated sadly. "That is true, Anita," Tony replied. He gave her a tender kiss. "But on the other hand, nobody can ever take this night away from us. I will cherish the memory for the rest of my life." Her eyes were moist, but she smiled. "That was nice of you to say. Will you visit me again, I mean when you return to England?" "Wild horses could not keep me from seeing you," Tony quoted. She slapped him tenderly. "Don't make fun of me!" "I don't. I will visit you as soon as I return. Promise!" "That will be nice. Just see to it that you return in one piece." Her voice cracked during that last sentence, and the tears, long held in check, were now streaming over her cheeks. "Anita, darling, what is it?" Tony asked while he tried to comfort her. She tried to speak, but her violent sobbing made her words unintelligible. Tony held her sobbing form to his chest for a long time until she was able to compose herself again. Interrupted by single sobs, she tried again. "I've been through this before , his name was Roland Montague, and we were engaged. This was before I became an actress. He was promoted commander , and on his first voyage he was killed by fire from a shore battery. Torn to pieces, they told me. I have not been with a man since then, I could not. Until today, when I met you. You are very much like him. Be careful, please. I want to see you again." "Anita, I'm so sorry! It must have been terrible for you. I always try to be careful, you know, but a flying cannonball is unpredictable. But you should not worry about me. You'll see that I shall be back in a few months. And then we will spend more time together, I promise." He kissed her gently and she responded. They were lying face to face, and she pressed her shapely body against his. The tension they had both felt moments ago was momentarily forgotten, and Tony felt his strength returning. He caressed her pert breasts with his right hand, and then he let his hand wander down her body to her hip and her buttock while he began to suck on her left breast. He lavished attention on her nipple, alternatively sucking and biting down while his right hand searched and found the crevice between her buttocks. His finger found the entrance to her pussy, and her little butt gyrated against his hand to give his fingers better access. When he had Anita properly aroused, he moved between her legs. She reached down between them and guided his cock into her pussy. This time, she was well lubricated and he sank into her in one smooth motion. She gasped when he filled her and bottomed out. Tony braced himself with his elbows and assumed a leisurely in and out motion. They kissed and nibbled on each other's ears and neck. Tony was very controlled, he wanted to enjoy this as long as possible. Every so often, he would bury himself deep inside Anita's pussy and rest. Then he could feel and enjoy the rippling of her inner muscles on his shaft. It also helped him to calm down. Anita was slowly building up her passion. She, too, was enjoying the slower pace. When Tony was resting inside her for the sixth or seventh time, she pushed his torso up and wriggled out underneath him. Turning around, she presented her slim backside to him. She lifted her right leg to allow Tony access, and he slipped into her from behind. They both enjoyed the added closeness of this spoon-fashioned coupling. Tony's right hand began to fondle her right breast while Anita reached behind her back and gripped his right buttock, urging him on. Their mating intensified now. Anita pressed her firm behind against Tony and her lust intensified when she felt his member push against her most sensitive inner spots. Her climax came all of a sudden and washed over her with a staggering intensity. On the height of her lust she felt Tony's cock pulse inside her. He shot glob after glob of hot semen into her womb. This triggered another aftershock in her, and they both clung together for minutes while their passion ebbed away. Anita spoke first. "Can you spend the rest of the night with me, dear?" "Afraid not, Anita. The post chaise will pick me up at the 'George' at seven. If I fall asleep now, I shall never wake up in time." "What shall we do, then?" she asked. "How about we sit together until I have to leave?" "That will be nice, yes," she smiled and jumped out of the bed. Tony admired her slender body, the bouncing curls of her lush chestnut hair, the graceful neck, and ... and... 'Get a grip on yourself;' he chided himself, and he flung himself from the bed into a standing position. Anita was already at the wash stand. She turned to him and began to clean his body with a wet cloth. The cool water on his skin reinvigorated him. When she was finished, he took the cloth from her and gently cleansed Anita's body, working his way down from the neck and shoulders to her shapely legs. He took extra care washing her pubes which disconcerted her slightly. She was overly sensitive, and she was not sure whether she found his touch enjoyable. After they had dressed, they sat at a table and spent the remainder of the night talking to each other. Neither of them wanted to touch sensitive topics. When the time came for Tony to return to the 'George', Anita simply hugged him. "Farewell, Tony. Please come back!" she whispered in his ear. "I will, trust me," Tony responded, and after a final chaste kiss on her cheek, he left the apartment. He quickly walked back to the 'Royal George' where the servants were already busy cleaning and preparing the breakfast. He went to his room and packed his small valise. He shaved quickly, and went to the guest room. The coffee they served revived him, and he had a hearty breakfast. He was barely finished when the post chaise drew up in front of the inn. The coach ride to Portsmouth was the usual boring affair, and he managed to catch some sleep. It was early evening when the coach rattled on the cobble stones of the streets of Portsmouth and finally came to stop in front of the naval station. The next morning, he assembled the officers and crew of Medusa to inform them of the changes. Feelings were mixed, of course. For many, HMS Medusa had been their home for many years. But the larger Frenchman was a newly built ship, and that meant less work on the pumps and roomier living quarters. Over the next two days, all crew members and personal belongings were transferred to HMS Clyde, as Loire had been renamed. Lieutenant Fortescue arrived, too, and was immediately immersed in the task of transforming a French ship into a British. Part of the quarter deck armament was exchanged to meet with Royal Navy standards, stores had to be filled, and the crew had to be drilled in their tasks in a new ship. Most importantly, additional crew had to be recruited. Medusa could contribute only 200 sailors with the losses incurred during the battle with the Loire. An additional 50 to 60 men were urgently needed. The press gangs that scoured Portsmouth for hidden sailors did not meet with great success, and the sailors captured were mostly distributed among the ships of the line that were making ready for sea. Exeter assizes, a large prison, contributed 23 "recruits". Tony also sent out trusted officers to recruit. He hoped that sailors still in hiding would jump at the chance to serve in a frigate, rather than being caught by the press gang and doing blockade duty in the large battle ships. Indeed, his officers were able to recruit more than 30 men over the course of a week, 12 of them real sailors, largely because of Tony's reputation as an active and fair captain. Including the marines, he had enough men to sail his ship now. While he was on shore and on his way to his rented quarters on one of the following days, he was approached by a young woman. "Excuse me, Sir, are you Sir Anthony Carter?" Tony looked at her and began to smile. She was good to look at, of medium height, blonde hair bound to a knot on the back of her head, freckled face and a wide mouth. Looking down, he also noticed that nature had not begrudged her a nice body, either. Far from being voluptuous, she still had a well developed bosom, trim waist and not to wide hips. Her clothes were not costly, but clean and well-tailored. If one thing, she was the epitome of a healthy, good looking young woman. "That is me, indeed, young Miss, and how can I help you?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile. Feeling encouraged by his friendliness, she smiled back. "My name is Elisabeth Wilson, Sir Anthony. I am an orphan, and I am living with my brother Samuel. He is only sixteen. He has been missing for two days, and I was terribly worried." "That's only understandable, Miss Wilson," Tony interrupted. He already knew where this was leading, and he wanted to cut to the beef. "I can reassure you, though, that nothing happened to your brother. He is on board my ship, the Clyde, and a member of her crew." "But how could you press a boy into the service?" she cried accusingly. "I certainly did not press him, Miss. He was recruited by one of my officers near the harbour, and he is a volunteer." "But he is not of age, how could he volunteer?" Tony weighed her argument, she had a point there. "He said he was an orphan and had no legal guardian. We cannot investigate such matters too deeply, Miss. We're at war, and we need men. And a volunteer is worth two pressed men." "But I am his legal guardian, and I did not consent. You must release him." "Miss," Tony replied patiently, "he is already enrolled. There is nothing I can do. Besides, he only signed up for this journey. After that, if he proves himself, he can become Midshipman. If not, you'll have him back." "What if he is killed? He's the only relative I have, he's all I have in this world." she cried. But suddenly her demeanour changed. Her voice became calm and resigned. "What do I have to do that you will release him. I'll do anything." Tony was perplexed; this was one thing he had not expected. He studied her again. She certainly was no trollop, she was really offering to sacrifice herself for the safety of her little brother. "MIss, what you insinuate is almost insulting to me." He waved aside her protest. "How could you think that I would take advantage of your situation?" "I am sorry, Sir Anthony, I was carried away. But is there nothing I can do to change your mind?" He came to a decision. "Here is what we shall do. Sunday at noon, come the dock yard. I will bring your brother, and you'll have a quarter of an hour to talk to him. If he, after that talk, asks me for a discharge, I will comply." "But that's another three days, Sir." "Yes, Miss Wilson, but that should be to your advantage. Three more days will give him an idea of what he has got himself into." Here, Tony smiled grimly. "But his decision will be final. No more pleas then. Is that agreeable to you?" He looked into her eyes, and she met his gaze. She slowly nodded. "I see that you can go no further, and I am very grateful for the chance to see my brother one more time. I will present him with my arguments, and he can decide. How will I be admitted to the dock yard?" "We'll meet you at the gates. Sunday at noon it is, then?" "Yes, thank you for your time, Sir Anthony. I really appreciate your understanding." The young woman turned and almost ran away. Tony shook his head, and walked slowly to the "Admiral Vernon Inn" where he had taken quarters while in Portsmouth. He was awaited there by Mr. Hogsbotham, attorney at law. Tony had decided that there was little chance for him ever to live in Kingston again. For the time being, a townhouse in Portsmouth would serve his purposes best, and he had asked Mr. Hogsbotham to look for likely objects. "There is an object that might suit your needs, Sir Anthony," Mr. Hogsbotham said in his grave tone. "The previous owner was a ship owner, Mr. Woolsley, who has met with bad luck having lost both of his ships to storms in just half a year. If you wish so, we could look at the property right away." "Who owns the property now?" Tony enquired. "The house was pledged for a loan to the bank of Carlisle & Sons. They are in a difficult situation themselves and need to move the property soon. I think, I could get it for you for a very good price." "How good?" "Assuming that you can pay hard money, I should say that the price will not exceed £1600. That is within the range that you mentioned, isn't it?" "Yes, indeed. Let us have a look before it gets dark." The house was just a few yards off High Street. It had a solid appearance and showed no sign of neglect. There were three floors, the first floor taken up by a large dining room, a study, another reading room, and the kitchens. An impressive stairways led upstairs, where there were no less than four bedrooms. A narrower, steeper stairways led up to the servant's quarters in the third floor. Tony inspected these, too, and was satisfied that they, too, were comfortable enough. Most of the furniture was still in the house and he wondered briefly what had become of Mr. Woolsley. "How is the neighbourhood?" Tony asked the lawyer. "A few wholesale merchants and ship owners, but also Admiral Sir Charles Foster." "Dreadnought Foster?" Tony asked surprised. "Yes indeed, do you know him?" "Only cursorily, he is the Harbour Admiral, after all." "Yes indeed. How do you like the property then, Sir Anthony?" Tony looked about him once more. There was nothing to dislike about the house. It was also close to the Navy Station. And if an Admiral Foster was living in this neighbourhood it would be good enough for a Captain Carter. "Let us close the deal, Mr. Hogsbotham. If you can get it for £1600 or under, I shall take it. As you know, I am about to leave Portsmouth in a week or two. I would appreciate if you were to look after things while I am gone. I need a caretaker to keep the place clean until my housekeeper will arrive." "Of course, Sir Anthony, I will see to these matters. I will go to Carlisle's at once to close the deal. You are banking with Coutts & Palmer. For the signing, we will ask a representative of Mr. Coutts to be present, and the bank houses can arrange the transfer of the money. Will you need an advance on the prize money?" "No, Mr. Hogsbotham, I have sufficient funds to cover the costs." "Splendid, Sir Anthony. I shall send you a messenger." With that, the attorney locked up the house and departed. Tony suspected that Hogsbotham was earning two ways with this deal, but he had informed himself out of other sources and knew that the price for the house was a good one. After dinner at the Admiral Vernon Inn, Tony retired to his room and began to write a series of letters. The first he wrote to Rose Mulcahy, telling her that he would give up his house in Kingston and offering her the position of housekeeper in his new home in Portsmouth and a raise of pay. He pointed out the advantages for little Emily to grow up in England where she could receive a decent education. He also offered a generous severance pay for Rose should she decide not to leave Jamaica. The next letter he wrote to his lawyer in Kingston, asking him to sell the house in Kingston and to provide the necessary funds for Rose and her daughter, travel allowance or severance pay, whichever way she decided. Thirdly, he informed his business partner, James Whitney, of his move to England. Tony's father had already held a share in the shipping firm of Whitney and Cº, and Tony had invested most of his inheritance in this firm and had increased these investments over the years with his prize money and his share of the earnings. He now held a share of over £4500. Whitney & Cº had started small with two smaller vessels, but now they owned a line of 12 sails, and Tony's last share of the earnings had been over £800. Even if he lost his command, this income would secure a comfortable life. He asked Mr. Whitney to have his future earnings transferred to his account with Coutts & Palmer. He duplicated all three letters, planning to send one set through the Navy mail service (he could still claim his home base to be Kingston) and the second set through the regular post packet that serviced Kingston. The next morning, he received message from Mr. Hogsbotham that he had closed the deal at £1570 and that he asked the parties involved into his office at two o'clock. At the appointed time, Tony met with the two bank representatives and the lawyer and they sealed the sale. Tony left instructions with the lawyer regarding the safekeeping of his possessions, and he also left a will. He had a lot of property and money and no apparent heir. In his will, he bequeathed half of his possessions to Rose Mulcahy, the other half he made out to Anita Heyworth. Mr. Hogsbotham's eyes almost popped out when he read Anita's name. Of course he had heard of her. He longed to ask what the words "to my dear friend Anita Heyworth" implied, but professionalism won over. When they were finished with business, both men relaxed for an hour and enjoyed a glass of sherry in the lawyer's study. Tony left in the early evening, satisfied that he had settled his personal affairs. The refitting of the Clyde proceeded slowly. The dock yard was overworked with the commissioning of all the men-o'-war that had been laid up during the brief peace, as was the victualling office. Fortunately, Mr. Fortescue proved himself to be a resourceful First Lieutenant, supervising and organising most of the work and delegating lesser tasks to other officers and warrant officers. Since neither dock yard nor any other Navy agency worked on Sundays, Tony let his overworked men rest for a full day. Himself, he had Samuel Wilson brought before him and told him about the conversation with the boy's sister. "But Sir, I don't want to quit," the boy said obstinately. "I want to become an officer and a gentleman, Sir." Tony smiled at the boy. "Did you ever tell your sister?" "No, Sir. She wouldn't understand, Sir. She wants me to become an accountant or such, that's why I have to go to school." "Be that as it may, we're going ashore now to meet your sister," the boy made a face, "and you better keep that face of yours in order," Tony snapped. "She will tell you her mind, and you will listen. Then you will decide and you will tell her. Understood?" "Aye aye, Sir!" was the only reply the boy could make to his captain, and he desperately tried to keep the frustration out his tone and face. It was almost noon, and Captain Carter left the ship with young Samuel Wilson in tow. Elisabeth Wilson was already waiting at the gate of the dockyard when they arrived there. When she saw her brother, she stormed past the guard and hugged him fiercely. Tony gave the guard a sign not to interfere and kept in the background, not wanting to disturb. The Wilson siblings were soon in a heated exchange, the girl accusing and arguing, the boy sullen but obviously steadfast. In the end, the young woman obviously resigned. Her tone seemed more friendly now, and she hugged him once more before they both approached the waiting Captain Carter. "I told her, Sir Anthony." Blinking away tears, the sister nodded, not trusting her voice apparently. "Well son, you know your way back to the Clyde?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. "You know what to say?" "Permission to come aboard?" "Yes, now hurry back!" "Aye aye, Sir!" the boy shouted, and with a last brief look at his sister he bounded away. Tony turned to the young woman. "I hope you are satisfied now that nobody forced the boy to join my crew?" "Yes, Captain, it is obvious that you have one of your valuable volunteers," she answered. She did not quite succeed in keeping the bitterness from her voice. "Well, I have to thank you for your kindness and consideration, Sir Anthony. I guess I better be on my way home." "Wait, Miss Wilson," Tony said quickly, "I would like to explain a few things for you to better understand what your brother is doing." "It's rather easy. He's been reading those stupid books of pirates and castaways and such, and he thinks that he will have a swell time. He does not know the reality yet." Tony looked at her questioningly. "Our father was a sailor. He was torn to shreds at Camperdown. He was still alive when they reached Portsmouth. I saw him at the hospital, Mother made me go. The surgeon's mate said he was wounded by flying wood splinters. He died three days later from gangrene." Tears were streaming over her face, yet she stared at Tony unwaveringly. "This is how my brother will die, too. Or he will come home a cripple. Those are the only ways to be discharged, aren't they? Dead or crippled!" "I have lived through six major engagements, Miss, and so have the majority of my shipmates. You can die of a cannonball in battle or you can die of smallpox or typhoid fever in Portsmouth. However, in Portsmouth he can become a merchant's helper or an accountant at best, living a small and insignificant life. In the Navy, with luck, there is no limit of what he can be. It may not be everybody's preference, but it's a chance he wants to take." "Aren't you ever afraid, Captain?" she asked him, searching his face. Tony grinned ruefully. "Oftentimes, Miss, but I have learned to suppress it. If you are afraid, you will make mistakes. And making mistakes is what gets a sailor killed. Listen, Miss Wilson, I am long past my lunch time, would you care to join me for lunch? I am sure you must be hungry, too." "I would not impose myself on you, Sir Anthony, and besides..." "Besides what?" "Wouldn't people take me for a ... for a trollop?" She almost whispered the last word. Tony laughed. "When you are in the company of a Captain and a Knight, you're not a trollop. You're a courtesan, at the very least." He laughed at her shocked face. "I am only asking you to join me for lunch. That is not in the least compromising." The girl looked down at herself, trying to decide whether her dress was good enough. "You are very good looking and your dress is fine," Tony laughed. The girl had to laugh in spite of herself. "I suppose, it is all right. Where shall we go?" "Carpenter's, of course." Elisabeth Wilson held her breath. Carpenter's was the best restaurant in Portsmouth, save for some of the gentlemen's clubs where women did not have access. "Are you sure that you want to go to Carpenter's with me?" "Absolutely. Now let us go, I am really starving." She was startled when he offered her his right arm, and he grinned at her. Blushing furiously, she took his arm and walked on his side towards King's Street. The head waiter at Carpenter's swept only a cursory glance over the young woman before he showed them to a table in the back of the guest room. "I am quite positive that we did not come here to watch the proceedings in your kitchens," Tony said pointedly, and the waiter showed them to another table in the centre. When they were seated, the girl looked at Tony reproachfully. "He wanted to seat us in the back because I am too common for this place." she whispered. "No," Tony answered casually, "they do that to everyone who does not protest. You have to assert yourself or people will trample over you." Another waiter appeared to take their order, and Tony ordered for both of them. Slowly, Elisabeth thawed. She drank very sparingly of the wine that was served, but she appreciated a taste she had been foregoing for a long time. And the food was delicious. Tony watched the young woman unobtrusively. She ate slowly, savouring the taste. She smelled the wine before she sipped. She used knife and fork with ease. At last, Tony broke the silence. "I don't believe for a second that your father was a sailor. You grew up in a household with silverware and china dishes, and sailors don't own such things. Somebody taught you table manners, too." She looked up guiltily. "I never said he was a common sailor. He was sailing master in the Superb. I had a good upbringing, yes, but when my father was killed we could not maintain that standard. Now my mother is dead, too, and I work as a seamstress to make ends meet." "That explains the pretty dress," Tony observed. "People judge you by what you wear," she said defensively. "I like what I am doing and I am good at it. And I am saving money. One day, I will open my own shop." "Is that your wish?" "Yes, I want something of my own where I can run things my own way. It will take some time, though. There is a vacant store on Mulberry Street, but the owner won't lease. He wants to sell. I need two more years, then I will have enough for a down-payment." Tony showed some interest. "Wouldn't you rather lease than buy?" "Yes, but the owner wants to sell. He is moving to Sheffield, he told me." "Just out of interest, how much is he asking?" "£700, it's only a two-storey house and not very big." "How much lease could you afford?" "I couldn't afford more than £50 a year, at least in the beginning. But why are you asking all this?" "Because I have money to invest. Prize money. I have some capital investments in the shipping business, but I also want property. What if I bought that house and let you lease it for, let's see, £35 for the first years. I see a five percent return, and you will have a good start. After three years, we will negotiate the lease again." "You don't mean that, do you?" she asked incredulously. "Why not. It is easy to see," he pointedly looked at her dress, "that you know your trade. I need to invest, and I like to have a steady return. And I cannot lose, really, with property in the heart of this city. Besides, I have a good attorney to counsel me." "Would this be strictly business, or do you expect anything else from me?" Her level gaze held his eyes. "Strictly business. I could have got those other things much cheaper on Wednesday." She blushed furiously and he patted her hand. "I am sorry, I should not have said that. You were desperate. All I wanted to say is that I do not use such leverage to seduce women." Elisabeth was quiet for a moment, contemplating what had been offered to her. Then she made up her mind. "What you have offered me is the fulfilment of my ambitions. I most gratefully accept." "Excellent. We shall meet then with my lawyer, Mr. Hogsbotham, tomorrow to discuss the contracts and everything. Why are you laughing?" Indeed, Elisabeth was giggling with her hand before her mouth. Her face was completely transformed, laughing changed her from a pretty young woman into an absolute beauty. Between fits of laughter, she managed to whisper. "Is your lawyer really named Hogsbotham?" Now Tony understood the reasons for her merriment. "Yes," he laughed, "but he is very competent, in spite of that name." She dried her eyes with a kerchief. "I will behave tomorrow, I promise." "I am sure of that. Now, what shall we do? Should I walk you back to your quarters?" "That would be nice, Captain. It is not far from here, but I appreciate your company." Tony quickly settled the bill with he waiter and they left. Outside, he offered Elisabeth his arm, and this time, she accepted without hesitation. "What do people do in Portsmouth, I mean for entertainment?" he asked conversationally. "We have a music hall and a theatre. There is no theatre company in Portsmouth right now, but the company of the Drury Lane performs regularly. They will give the Hamlet here next week. I hear the lead actress, Anita Heywood, is fabulous; she is the rave of London." "Heyworth," Tony corrected absentmindedly. "So you have heard of her?" she asked. "I dined with her ten days ago in London," Tony said cautiously. "I regard her as a friend." "You dine with Anita Heyworth?" Elisabeth asked incredulously. "No wonder you would not be tempted by me." "As I said, she is a dear friend. Do not start any silly rumours. And you are a very pretty young woman yourself." "Do you really think so? I think my nose and mouth are too big, and my hips are too wide, and..." Her self-depreciation was cut short when Tony turned to her and kissed her soundly on her mouth. She squealed, then relented. When he broke the kiss, she drew a breath as if to continue her tirade, but she was silenced by a second kiss. After that one, she stared at him for wordlessly first, but then she opened her mouth again. "If you do not stop this nonsense, I shall kiss you again," Tony threatened. "What was that for?" she asked weakly. "For my pleasure," Tony answered smugly. "And for your benefit. You are a very pretty girl. Will you believe that or do I have to show you again?" A little devil danced in Elisabeth Wilson's eyes. "Don't you think that my freckles..." The third kiss lasted longer, and she threw her arms around his neck. Tony looked deep into her eyes, and he saw the invitation. After short deliberation, he led her to the "Admiral Vernon" and his room. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 7: Haiti When Tony Carter awoke, he felt the unfamiliar sensation of another person stirring in his bed. At once, the memory of the last night flooded back into his conscience. Elisabeth Wilson had proven to be a passionate and resourceful lover, once she dropped the assumed image of a shy and proper middle class girl. The memory of the last night rekindled his arousal, aided by the feel of Elisabeth's naked body. His member, lodged between the cheeks of her arse, began to swell, and, before long, a tousled Elisabeth turned to face him with a languid smile. "Good morning, Tony! I get the feeling that you are awake?" "Very much so. How do you feel, Elisabeth?" "Splendid," she answered stretching like a cat. "I have to leave for work soon, you know." "I thought you wanted to open your own shop, what's the hurry?" "I haven't given my master notice yet, and I have never been late for work. I would hate for him to be disappointed at me." "So you won't give me a chance to say good morning properly?" Tony grinned. "We may have a few spare minutes," she conceded. She turned around and straddled him. Guided by her hand, his already stiff member slid into her easily, and she began a slow rocking motion. Her pointed breast swayed gently with her motions, and Tony laid back passively, enjoying both the sights and the sensations. Gradually, Elisabeth picked up speed, and her motions became more urgent. Tony let his hands roam over her slender body, caressing her breasts now, guiding her hips then, and kneading the beautiful globes of her behind. Elisabeth's face was flushed now, and her chest had also gained a rosy hue. Her breathing became heavier and accompanied by mewling sounds that escaped her open mouth. Tony, too, felt his passion rising. When Elisabeth threw her head back, he lifted his upper body from the bed and began to kiss her bosom. The mewling changed into urgent moans, but it was not before he kissed and bit her slender neck, that she began to sob in her ecstasy. Maintaining his suction on her throat, Tony pushed the slender woman down onto his throbbing organ, pushing his pelvis up as high as possible. Elisabeth's body went rigid when his deeply embedded penis began to spew its load into her womb. They stayed frozen for some time before their mutual ecstasy subsided. Tony dropped his back into the cushions, pulling Elisabeth on top of him. Two pairs of lips met in the post-orgasmic bliss they felt, and it was only after another quarter of an hour, that Elisabeth reluctantly dislodged herself from Tony with an apologetic smile. Within a few minutes, she had washed herself, using the wash basin, cloth and soap. Tony quickly threw on some clothes and ordered breakfast. Elisabeth wanted to decline breakfast, but Tony insisted. They were both famished after their lovemaking, and they made short work of the wholesome breakfast. Tony hired a carriage to transport Elisabeth to her lodgings for a quick change into her everyday clothes and then to the tailor's shop where she worked. They made quick arrangements to meet in the evening to conduct their business, and then she went to work. Tony had himself driven to Mr. Hogsbotham's house and informed him on his plan to purchase a tailor's shop in Mulberry Road. Tony asked the attorney to attend to this business and to make out a lease for his new tenant, Miss Wilson. If Mr. Hogsbotham had any comments on the way Tony conducted business, he kept them to himself. After all, he could earn another tidy commission, and the investment appeared to be sound. When Tony arrived at the dockyard it was to learn that the refitting of his ship was nearing completion. The Clyde could be warped out of the dock the next day. Completion of stores would take another four to five days, but they would be able to sail for Saint Domingue within a week. In his mail, he also found a letter from Anita Heyworth. He had written her the week before, thanking her for a wonderful evening. He had carefully avoided to appear possessive, not knowing how she would feel about their affair in the light of the next day. In her answer, Anita was noncommittal herself, but it was written in a very friendly form. She wrote that she wished him luck on his journey and reiterated her invitation to visit her upon his return. Tony felt encouraged to write an answer in kind. "HMS Clyde Portsmouth Harbour April 5, 1804 My dearest Anita, with great joy I have received and read your letter. It makes me very happy indeed, that you will see me again when I will return from my impending journey. My new ship, the Clyde, is almost ready for sea, and I would assume that we shall sail by next Sunday. Although I cannot reveal my destination, I can tell you that my present task should be finished within a span of six to eight months. I have purchased a house in the City of Portsmouth, High Street Nº 18. It will be furnished and made fit for living in my absence. In the meantime, you may send correspondence care of my attorney, Mr. Reginald Hogsbotham, Barrister, of King's Street, Portsmouth. I sincerely hope that one day, upon my return, you will be my guest here and allow me to return some of the friendliness you extended to me. While I do not want to appear rash, I would nonetheless express my hope that we will have a chance see more of each other. Yours, in friendship Anthony Carter, CB." His conscience was not entirely at ease with his recent behaviour. He had, after all, seduced the lovely Elisabeth Wilson. To write a letter to Anita Heyworth in this fashion almost felt like cheating. He would have to sort out the different women in his life very soon. After all, when all was said and done, he had to consider Rose Mulcahy as well. His long time housekeeper did not expect him to remain celibate, of that he was sure. But she would not take kindly to sharing him with a host of other women once she was living with him again. The next days were spent with the last preparations. Things were entirely different for Tony. He had spent his entire career on board the Medusa. To ready a different ship for sea felt very strange. The former Frenchman had its advantages, though. The main cabin was decidedly larger than the Medusa's. He had also used the time and his new affluence to furnish the cabin to his liking. When, on the following Sunday, HMS Clyde weighed anchor and set sail, her captain and the crew quickly fell in love with their new ship. She was no run-down workhorse, like the Medusa had become; she was almost new. Once she grabbed the wind, she felt springy, like a good sword, and there was no doubt that she was a much faster ship. The week in harbour had allowed the petty officers to acquaint the new recruits with their duties, but when Clyde left the Spithead and entered the open Channel, the recruits learned the meaning of seasickness for the first time. Having lived his entire grown up life on board a ship, Tony was not disposed towards this cursed condition. But the new people, among them Samuel Wilson, spent the first hours and even days of the journey retching and heaving and shivering in the cold. Tony saw to it that the new people were kept busy to detract them from their misery, and he worked them constantly around the clock to that they were too tired to stay awake in their free watch. After a few days, the recruits grew sea legs, and by that time they had cleared the Irish coast and were on a westward course. After they passed the Azores, they caught the north-eastern trade winds, and the Clyde indeed showed what a fine ship she was. Once on their westward course, they logged over 200 miles a day. They had long passed the Azores when the lookout hailed his "Ship ho!". It was a ship-rigged vessel that sailed on a converging course with them. It soon became apparent that the strange sail tried to avoid the encounter by changing to a south-western course. In the jungle and on the seas, flight provokes pursuit. The Clyde changed course, too, and the race was on. Tony soon noted with satisfaction that the strange ship was no match for his fast frigate. It still took over ten hours before the chase was hull up over the horizon. Night was setting in, but the sky was clear, and the full moon guaranteed that the strange sail would not give them the slip during the night. The fast subtropical dawn saw the two ships less than two miles apart. Tony ordered the Clyde cleared for action and her flag hoisted. Once the bustle died down he saw to it that food and water was distributed to the men on their stations. Finally, shortly before noon, the strange ship was in range, and Capt. Carter ordered a shot over her bows. The 18 pounder bow chaser roared out, and a fountain of water rose ahead of the chase. The stranger hove to and hoisted the red and golden flag of Spain. Officers and crew of the Clyde began to curse. Spain was still at peace with England, and they could not capture a Spanish ship, suspicious though she might behave. In the meantime, the Clyde had closed in to half pistol shot range, her guns run out. The supposed Spaniard was a flush decked, square rigged ship that would have passed for a sloop of war. Tony decided that she did not look Spanish one bit. The lines of her hull and the cut of her sails were decidedly French. There could be an explanation for that, but his suspicion was roused. "What do you make of her, Mr. Boyle?" he asked his veteran sailing master. "Slaver, Sir, French built or I don't know ships. But she could still be owned by the Dons." Tony raised his speaking trumpet. "Ship ho! What ship is this?" The answer came in Spanish. "Alicante, merchant ship out of Algeciras." "What is your destination?" "Porto Bello, we have a cargo of slaves from the Ivory Coast." Tony thought for a moment, the answers were coming too matter-of-factly. A real merchant captain would have protested, would have shown anger at being intercepted. Again, he rose his speaking trumpet. "Stay hove to and await my boats! My officer will verify your claims." Tony saw movement on the deck of the slaver. "Stay hove to or I will fire into you!" he shouted. "Mr. Fortescue, take the longboat and the cutter and take possession! Mind that you stay out of our line of fire while you cross!" "Aye aye, Sir!" "Control the ship's papers. If she is indeed Spanish, you will excuse yourself and let her go." The boats were lowered on the Clyde's fire lee, and they pulled over to the other ship in a wide berth. Tony saw his First Lieutenant enter the ship with a large detachment of sailors and soldiers. Every telescope on board the Clyde was trained on the other ship. After a quarter of an hour, Tony saw Mr. Fortescue appear on deck again. The British sailors apparently took control of the ship as one could see how the foreign sailors were herded forward to the forecastle. Tony sent his gig with a midshipman to learn the news. It returned with Mr. Fortescue. "It's a Frog, Sir, Le Tempest, out of Toulon. Not two of the crew even speak Spanish," he chuckled. "She has 140 slaves on board and was heading for Porto Bello. That part was true. What shall we do with her, Sir?" Tony thought for a moment. British ships of war were already forbidden to engage in slave trade, and therefore he had so set these poor prisoners free. Sailing them to the Ivory Coast, though, was out of the question. The north-eastern trade winds would not allow that without a great waste of time. On the other hand, there was a neat solution to this problem. "The slaver is our prize," he answered. People on the quarterdeck grinned openly at the prospect of prize money. "We shall take the prize with the slaves to Saint Domingue. There we shall release the captives into the care of the Black leaders." "That's brilliant, Sir! They will be set free without us losing time and you will gain some footing with those Blacks." "Precisely, Mr. Fortescue. Now we need somebody to tell those poor devils about their change of fate. Mr. Little!" The coxswain of the captain's gig stepped forward. He was a huge African who had escaped from a slave ship years ago. The Medusa, always in need of men, had rescued him from a tiny boat in which he had escaped. Since his African name was too much for the British, he was re-christened to John Little, a small joke in reference to the sidekick of Robin Hood. As John Little, or Little John, he had risen in the ranks, and before this journey, he had gained the coveted post of captain's coxswain. He was a tall man, of quick perception and unwavering loyalty. He spoke English with great care so as not to betray his background, but he made it clear to anyone that he was a warrior from a proud people, and that he saw his present position as a continuation of this tradition. "Mr. Little, I want you to go over and try and talk to the captives. Even if you do not speak their tongue, they may feel more comfortable with you. Try to tell them that I will set them free on an island that is ruled by freed slaves. They will not be slaves but live a life in freedom." "Aye aye, captain. I will try. What island will that be?" "Saint Domingue, the former French part. Take the gig." Mr. Little crossed over to Le Tempest. He explained his task to the prize master, and the captives were brought on deck. Little had to try a few languages before one of the women was able to understand him. Using her as translator, he was able to convey the fact to them that they were to be set free on a foreign island, instead of being sold into slavery. Of course there were the inevitable questions of why they could not return to Africa. Patiently, Little explained the reasons why they could not. It was late afternoon before HMS Clyde and her prize set course for Saint Domingue. Tony planned to land at Cap Francais, the centre of the French settlements. He assumed that any new government the former slaves might try to establish would use the facilities of the former capital. The last news he had received was that General Dessalines had succeeded the ill-fated Toussaint L'Ouverture, and that the French forces had been conquered, not necessarily due to the superior military skills of the Black leaders, but primarily due to horrendous losses incurred from malaria and yellow fever. Tony had been warned not to embark on any large-scale landing operations as this would spell disaster. He was not too worried, though, since his was a West Indian crew and more hardy in the climate than the Polish and French troops under the command of Napoleon's ill-fated General Leclerc. It was early June of 1804 when HMS Clyde made the final approach to Cap Francais. She was gliding along under doubly reefed topsails, her decks cleared and her guns ready. They did not know what to expect. Tony had been briefed by the Foreign Office; he had even met one of the officers who had participated in the failed British attempt to conquer Saint Domingue. He knew the names of the most important figures of the rebellion who now formed the leadership. He also knew of the pathological, if understandable hatred of General Dessalines towards all Whites and even Creoles. He therefore anchored in the roads for a day just to give the Blacks the opportunity to summon someone of weight. The next day, he sent Mr. Little ashore. He was rowed by several of the freed slaves and carried a letter in French stating the wish of Captain Carter to speak to the local commander. Little returned with a carefully written answer in which he was asked to state his business. Tony sat down at his desk and drafted a reply in which he expressed his wish to land over a hundred Africans who had been freed from a slave ship. Secondly, he stated that he wished to open negotiations between the new government of Saint Domingue and the British side with the aim to prevent future hostilities. Mr. Little was rowed back to the shore with that message. He came back with an answer in which Capt. Carter was invited to a meeting on the beach just after sun up the next morning. The local commander, General Vaval, allowed the captain to bring a guard of 10 soldiers, while Vaval reserved the same right for himself. Tony studied the beach through his telescope. It was wide and open and ill-suited for any ambush. "What do you think, Mr. Little, is the General sincere?" "Hard to say, Captain, Sir." "Mr. Fortescue!" "Sir?", the 1st lieutenant queried. "I will go ashore for a meeting with the local military commander, a General Vaval. I will take the launch. A sergeant and nine marines. Have two swivel guns mounted in the launch. Mr. Weaver will be in command. See to it that the guns are properly manned. You will be in command of the ship. We will clear for action now. I want a spring on the anchor cable, too." "Aye aye, Sir. What are your orders if there is trouble?" "Then you have my order to take the beach under fire with the main deck guns. Under no circumstances will you send a landing party to our rescue. We will try to get out with the launch." "As you wish, Sir." The drums of the marines rolled and the Clyde was cleared for action. A heavy cable, the spring line, was attached to the bow anchor cable and run through the aftermost gun port and to the windlass. By paying out or shortening the spring line, the ship could be turned to any direction to bring her guns to bear. This was a cautionary measure necessary in this anchorage. In addition to that, the boarding nets were rigged, and the guns were loaded and run out. After a rather uncomfortable night, Tony was rowed ashore in the launch and accompanied by ten Marines. The launch cleared from the beach, and stood off, ready to assist or to pick them up. They had hardly landed when a small troop approached them from the tree line. A short but stocky black man was leading. When the two groups met, Tony bowed shortly, and introduced himself, speaking French. The short man introduced himself as General Vaval. Tony knew him by name. He had been the trusted sidekick to Toussaint L'Ouverture, and he had continued the fight against the French General Leclerc after L'Ouverture had been betrayed and captured. "What is it you wish to discuss with me, mon capitaine?" the general enquired next. "Firstly, mon general, would you be willing to offer hospitality to 130 captives? They are from Africa, and we freed them from a slave ship. As you may know, British ships are not allowed to engage in the slave trade, and I would like to land them as soon as possible." The General thought for a moment and nodded. "We will welcome our brothers and sisters. You may land them." "Thank you, mon general. Now, if you will allow me to come to the reason for my arrival here. His majesty, King George III and his government wish to put an end to the hostilities between England and your government. I am here to offer assurances that British forces will not aim to occupy Saint Domingue in the future. In return, His Majesty's government would like to extract assurance from your government that you will not attack His Majesty's dominions and that you will not engage in naval warfare nor offer shelter to pirates and privateers." Again the black general thought for a moment before he answered. "I need to inform the Emperor Dessaline of your offer. Only he can give you such assurances. This will take time, at least a week. You could land the freed slaves in the meantime. Other than that, I suggest you will refrain from coming to the shore. Our Emperor is not a friend of Whites, I am afraid." "So I have heard," Tony agreed sardonically. If anything, Dessaline had the reputation of being a murderous madman. "I shall wait for your answer, then." "Bon," the general answered. "There is another thing that I would like to draw your attention to, mon capitaine. There is a convent on the coast to the east. It is home to Spanish nuns, and the Spanish have forgotten them when they retreated. They are a thorn in our side, and we want them gone. Our Emperor is strangely reluctant to clear the convent by force. The Madre Superior is a scary woman, she is obayifo (Ashanti for witch), and she has the evil eye. If you could try to persuade them to leave the convent and sail away with you, our president may consider your offer favourably." "How many nuns are there?" Tony asked, fencing for time. "We do not know exactly, between twenty five and thirty, I think." "And how will I get there? I do not plan to march to any place." "You would not have to. The convent is located on a cove, and ships can anchor there." "What if they don't want to evacuate?" "They will," Vaval said with a grim expression, "or else they will starve." Tony relented. "Let us say, I will do it. I do not have any authority. I would need an official of your government to conduct any operation. My orders are quite clear on that." "I am glad to hear that, mon capitaine, and I will be there myself." "D'accord. I will do it. Do you want to travel in my ship?" "That would be convenient, unless it would trouble you too much." "Not at all, mon general. When shall we start?" "I need to inform our Emperor of the plan. But I suppose we can sail this afternoon. It is a 150 mile distance." Tony calculated. That would be 125 nautical miles. With the prevailing wind that distance could be covered in less than a day. If they sailed in the afternoon, they would make a landfall in the early morning, with the high tide running. He nodded. "That will be agreeable, General," he said. "When can we expect your Excellency?" "I will be ready at 3 o'clock." "Six bells on the afternoon watch," Tony mused. "We will be ready to sail then." They parted, and the British returned to the Clyde. By early afternoon, a boat came from the shore carrying the general and two officers. He was received on board with military honours, including the 15-gun salute for a lieutenant general. General Vaval was obviously pleased with the respect shown to him. Immediately afterwards, the Clyde and the captured slaver weighed anchor and set sail for an east-north-eastern course. Luckily, the wind favoured them, and both ships made good speed all through the afternoon and evening. At sunset, Tony ordered a straight eastern course and a shortening of sails for the night. That evening, he entertained the general, his aides and his own officers in the main cabin. To Tony's surprise, his guests drank little wine and no spirits at all. At four bells on the first watch, they all turned in to sleep. Sunrise was at four bells on the morning watch. Even before that time, Tony was on deck again. When the sun rose brilliantly over their bow sprite, he noticed the prize close to them to leeward. Everything was going to plan. It was time to alter course to south east to reach the coast. Tony had a table placed on the quarterdeck and he invited his guests to a breakfast. They chatted amiably in French. Tony tried to gather as much information as possible from General Vaval about the plans of the new rulers. He also pointed out that peace with the British side would depend on a complete non-interference of Haiti in Jamaica and other British dominions. Under L'Ouverture, an attempt had been undertaken to start a slave rebellion in Jamaica. This had scared H.M. government to no end. The sugar trade, so important for England, depended on the cheap slave labour, or so it was argued by the representatives of the sugar interest. Therefore, it was his most important task to extract some form of assurance from the Haitian government that they would not stir up trouble in Jamaica. For his part, Vaval asked how long the British would still tolerate the forcible abduction of people from West Africa into slavery. Tony answered cautiously that there was a strong and vocal anti-slavery movement in England and that it was gaining momentum in parliament (this movement culminated in the 1808 decision to abolish transatlantic slave trade). Vaval looked at Tony with his head tilted to the side. "What is your own opinion, Captain?" Tony looked at him openly. "My personal opinion is that slavery is an abomination. But I must say that we have some form of slavery on board this ship, too. More than half of my men were pressed into the service. They will be released only after the end of the war." Vaval looked around. "Why don't they rise against you, Captain?" "Several reasons. The punishments for disobedience are harsh, we have soldiers on board, and the men respect me. If I lose respect, then there will be trouble." Vaval smiled sadly. "You are right, Captain, this is very similar to slavery. People like yourself who treat their subordinates well and are respected, people like yourself are the greatest obstacle to the emancipation of slaves." The cry of the lookout interrupted the sombre discussion. Tony had the table cleared away and climbed into the mizzen top to study the coast line through his telescope. He saw that they could reach their destination with a minor change of course. He climbed back on the deck to give the necessary orders. Signal flags rose to their yardarms to convey his orders to the prize. She was to anchor away from the land while the Clyde continued her approach. Two hours later, the Clyde cast anchor in a little cove that offered excellent anchorage. The massive stone buildings of the monastery could be seen from the water, but there was no sign of life on the shore. Tony gave orders to swing out the large boats. Accompanied by the complete marine detachment and fifty armed sailors, Tony and his guests were rowed ashore. Leaving a strong guard with the boats, they made for the monastery. After a short climb, they reached the outer walls and the main gate. Stepping forward, Tony rapped the door with his sword hilt. A timid female voice from within asked him his business. "Yo soy Capitan Don Antonio Carter, de la Marina Real de Inglaterra. Yo deseo hablar con la Madre Superior!" Tony was aware of his poor command of the Spanish language. A few minutes passed, and then a small window in the door opened. The grim face of an old woman appeared. "What does a heretic want from us?" "I came to offer you and your nuns safe passage to a Spanish port. The government of Saint Domingue wishes that you leave, and I can bring you to safety." "We shall not leave this holy place," the old woman answered sternly. "Not for all the heathens in the world. Let them try their worst." "Mother Superior, wouldn't it be wiser to continue your holy service in the Spanish Dominions on the mainland?" "We will not abandon this place. Leave now!" was the uncompromising answer. Tony looked at General Vaval. He was not sure how to continue. If he took the place by force, the Spanish might use the incident to declare war on England. In this case, his career may suffer severely. He was spared the decision by young Samuel Wilson. The young volunteer had a small detachment of sailors under his command and was to secure the rear of the compound. Now he came running to the main gate. "Sir, permission to speak, Sir?" he panted. Tony nodded. "We've heard voices, Sir, English voices. They were shouting for help, Sir. They came out of the ground, Sir, the voices." The boy was agitated. Tony thought for a moment. Could it be that British sailors were kept here as prisoners of the inquisition? He decided to investigate. "Show me the way, Mr. Wilson." The boy turned and ran back to the rear of the monastery. Tony hastened behind him. When he reached the place where the boy was squatting, he needed a few moments to catch his breath. Then he listened intently. There it was! Very faint, indeed, the voices seemed to come out of the ground. He thought he heard English words, 'help' and 'prisoners'. Tony made up his mind. Returning to the main gate, he summoned the marines under Lieutenant Walker. "Mr. Walker, how would you break open this gate?" Lt. Walker raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, Sir, we could chop down a tree and use it as ram, but that would take some time seeing that we did not bring axes." Tony looked about. "Mr. Harris!" "Aye, Sir?" the young boatswain's mate answered. "Get some grapnel hooks from the boats!" Within a few minutes, four sailors arrived with grapnel hooks attached to lines. "Men," Tony addressed his crew, "there's something fishy going on at this place, and I want to have a look. Mr. Dunn, your men will scale the wall using those grapnels and open the main gate from within. Mr. Walker, get ready to search the place! Nobody touches a nun!" Four sailors began to sling the grapnels up the wall, and in no time, the lines were attached. The 12 feet wall was no problem for the sailors, and they used other lines to get down on the inside. Tony heard some sort of scuffle from within, but then the main gate opened. Led by their lieutenant, the marines marched through the gate. Tony followed with the curious General Vaval in his wake. He was at once confronted by the Mother Superior and a fat monk who both shouted at him in Spanish. Tony looked around until he found the man he was looking for. "Garcia!" Juan Garcia had volunteered for service in the Medusa when his old ship, a small Spanish frigate had surrendered. He had served under that ship's priest, and the experience had made him an unbeliever. When he approached, he eyed the nun and the monk with distaste. "I need you to translate what these people say, Garcia." "Aye aye, Sir," the renegade Spaniard replied. He introduced himself to the Mother Superior and the fat monk, who inundated him with a barrage of accusations. "They protest, Sir, they not want you in holy place." "Tell them to release the English prisoners, and I will start to talk to them." Another exchange in Spanish of which Tony barely understood the gist. "They say, no prisoners, Sir." "Tell them, we will see about that." It was quite unfortunate for the two holy people that a runner came out of the main building at this very moment. He ran up to his Captain and saluted. "Mr. Walker's compliments, Sir, and we've found a dungeon! There's lots of prisoners, Sir, English some of them. There was a gaoler and his helper who went for us, but we made short work of them, Sir." "Very good, my compliments to Mr. Walker and I'll be with him in a moment. Mr. Dunn!" "Sir," the third lieutenant stood to attention. "The nun and the monk are prisoners. Make sure they don't escape. Garcia, tell them they are prisoners. Tell them that holding British prisoners makes them combatants." Tony turned to the general. "This has taken a complete different turn, mon general. I will evacuate this place forcibly. They are holding British prisoners in their dungeon. Do you object?" "No, Captain, not at all. Do as you see fit. I will just stay and observe." "Thank you, mon general!" He looked about. "Mr. Wilson!" "Sir?" "Follow me. You made the discovery, it's only fair the prisoners see you among the first." With the boy in tow, and accompanied by his own boat crew, they followed a marine into the large stone building. A small staircase led them from the entrance hall into a cellar. From there they went down a second staircase into a torch lit hallway. Tony held his breath. The foul stench of this dungeon was almost unbearable. A detachment of his marines was busy doling out water to at least four dozen prisoners. Mr. Walker saluted. "We've found the keys, Sir. I suggest we transport these poor devils up into the air. That way, we get out of this hellhole, too. We'll need the doctor, too, Sir. Some of these people have ugly boils, and there's a man with gangrene." "Well done, Mr. Walker. Get the people and your men out here. I'll go up and send for the doctor. Let the prisoners rest in the entrance hall, they sunlight will hurt them too much." As quick as possible, Tony fled the dungeon. He was physically sick with the sights and smells. When they reached the entrance hall, Tony ordered his men to search the entire building and assemble the nuns and who else they found in the court yard. This did not go without some screams and smaller scuffles, but in a span of ten minutes, the inhabitants of the monastery had been herded into the yard. In the meantime, Tony had sent a runner to the boats to get the doctor and his surgeon's mates and additional men to the beach. When all the nuns were assembled, he had Garcia ask them for the most senior nun. He asked the old hag that stepped forward if there were additional prisoners not yet discovered. Tony thought he saw a sly smile on her hooded face when she claimed there were none. At this moment, another nun broke from their ranks and ran forward. She fell on her knees before Tony and began to talk excitedly. "She says, more prisoners, women, Sir," Garcia translated. "She show us if you take her away. She says, la Madre Superior and Fra Angelo kill her if she stay." Tony looked at the nun. She had torn off her head cover. Short dark hair framed a beautiful face. She was a creole, no doubt, her cafe au lait complexion contrasted nicely with a set of fine, white teeth. She was young, too, below twenty. Her eyes conveyed both fear and determination. "Tell her, that I will protect her. Tell her to show us the other prisoners." When Garcia finished the translation, the girl nodded and motioned for them to follow. The old Mother Superior screamed at her, that she would be punished forever in purgatory for her treason. Looking over her shoulder, the girl quietly responded. Garcia grinned. "She say, she in purgatory here." "I understood as much, thank you, Garcia," Tony grinned back. The girl led them into a high-ceilinged room on the ground floor. It was on the opposite side from the stairwell that led into the cellar. Inside the room, the girl spoke up and Garcia translated. "There is door hidden here. A hatchway. More prison cells down there. La Madre Superior has women prisoners so she gets money for it. Sometimes, women die, sometimes new ones come in ship. She had to help wash body of dead woman, once. So she know about this." They searched for the lock of the panel door for a moment, but did not find it. Tony nodded to Mr. Little who pointed to a large oak bench. Six men raised the bench and heaved it against the panel. At the third try, the panel cracked, and a minute later a narrow stairwell lay open. Torches were lit, and the small group cautiously declined the narrow staircase. The dark hallway they found was lined with ten heavy doors. After pushing back a heavy deadbolt, they opened the first door, only to see a terrified woman in rags crouching in the farthest corner. The young nun and Garcia had a hard time coaxing the woman out into the hallway. They gave her water and left her there to open the second door. This room was larger, there was even a bed in there, a chair and a small table. The woman inside had a small candle burning by the light of which Tony could see that her clothes were in better shape. The woman stood upon their entrance, and her challenging stance left no doubt that she held on to her dignity. She was in her late twenties, Tony guessed, tall and slender, but it was clear that her dress was having a hard time confining a set of magnificent breasts. Looking at her face, Tony conceded that he had just met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Dark brown eyes under long black eyelashes, a straight nose, a small mouth with full red lips and prominent cheek bones combined exquisitely. Her straight black hair was braided and easily reached beyond the small of her back. Instinctively, Tony bowed to her. "Don Antonio Carter, a su servicio!" "Donna Maria Christina Arabella Ruiz de Costa y Ledesma." Tony bowed again. In his halting Spanish he told her that he had seized the monastery and that she would be free. For a moment, the woman closed her eyes. Then she knelt before a small silver cross and began to pray. We she had finished, she rose graciously and, after a perfect curtsey, glided past Tony and out of the cell. 'What a woman!' Tony thought, following her. He had another surprise coming. Once out of her cell, Donna Maria oversaw the release of her fellow prisoners, coaxed them out of their cells and hugged each of them. Then she looked for Tony, curtseyed again, and put her hand on his left arm. Tony blinked. She expected to be led out of this dungeon with all the dignity she could muster. He grinned inwardly and proceeded to lead the way upstairs and through the splintered remnants of the panel door. In the hallway, there was bustling activity. The surgeon had set up a makeshift infirmary. One of the cook's mates had taken charge of the kitchens and the smell of food made the prisoners swoon. Yet when Donna Maria emerged on the arm of the English captain, everybody stared incredulously. Tony wanted to lead the women to a separate room to rest, but he was once again thwarted in his plans. Donna Maria stepped out into the courtyard. She squinted, when the sunlight flooded her eyes. In a crisp tone, leaving no doubt that expected compliance, she took charge of the assembled nuns. She barked a barrage of orders at them and within seconds, all the lay nuns were running. Then she approached the Mother Superior and the fat monk. Tony had followed her. She turned to him with a beatific smile and whipped the double barrelled pistol from his belt. "Maldito cerdo!" she hissed. With quick precision, she shot the monk in his groin, then turned to shoot the nun through her right eye. The Madre Superior was dead even before her body hit the ground. Fra Angelo stared incredulously at his groin and sunk to his knees. A scream broke from his mouth to be cut short when he started to vomit. "Surgeon's mates!" Tony yelled, "bring this man to the doctor!" Two of his men came running. They loaded the bleeding monk on stretcher and rushed him inside. Donna Maria returned the smoking gun to Tony. "Gracias, Don Antonio." Tony nodded, dumbfounded. She turned on her heel and walked back into the building. Shaking his head, Tony followed her. It was late in the evening when Tony was finally able to rest. All the prisoners were distributed between the Clyde and the Tempest. Donna Maria, of course, had the use of the main cabin. She had been a great help organising the care for the prisoners and sorting the nuns into accomplices and innocent followers. She saw to it that the women received fresh clothes and a bath. In the meantime, the male prisoners were led to a small spring-fed pond near the convent where they had to wash with soap and fresh water. Once they were clean and clothed, they were quickly ferried to the Clyde and the Tempest, to avoid sunburn on their pale skin. The prioress had been buried inside the monastery compound. The wounded monk had been brought on board, but it was doubtful that he would survive the shot wound. His lower body was a bloody mess. During a late supper in the main cabin with Donna Maria and General Vaval, Tony received more information on his noble guest. She was, she claimed, the wife of Don Alonso Christobal Ruiz de Costa y Torquena, Governor of Cartagena on the Spanish Main. On a trip to Spain, she had been abducted by her own cousin and brought to this remote monastery in Santo Domingo, where she had spent the last three years in captivity. When asked for the reason, she claimed complete ignorance. Tony quickly decided that this was an excellent opportunity to ingratiate an important Spanish official to the Royal Navy and he promised Donna Maria a passage to Cartagena. First things first, though. He needed to convey the general back to Cap Francais, or Cap Haitien as it had been renamed by the self-proclaimed emperor, Dessaline. In a quiet moment, Vaval had warned Tony not to meet Dessaline. It seemed the emperor was a cunning and brutal man who would not hesitate to break his word were it to satisfy his hatred of all Whites. They had agreed that Vaval would play the middle man. The return trip to Cap Haitien took more than three days since the wind did not favour them. When they reached the anchorage, General Vaval was conveyed to the shore. It took another two days before they received a note from Vaval. He notified the Captain that His Imperial Highness, in exchange for a non-aggression agreement, was willing to assure the British side that no activities against British shipping and British interests would be allowed on Haitian soil. An official note to this effect over Dessaline's signature was included. Tony drafted a carefully worded reply in which he assured his Imperial Highness of the peaceful intentions of H.M. government towards the Haitian government. For a last time, he had himself rowed to the shore where he handed the letter over to General Vaval. When it was time to part, the General shook his hand. "Farewell, capitaine. I wish there were more white people like you." "Thank you, mon general. It has been an experience to meet a general who has beaten Napoleon's army. Not many men alive can boast of such deeds." Vaval remained on the white beach and watched while the Clyde's gig made its way back to the ship. When the Clyde set sail the next morning and her guns sounded a parting salute, they were astounded to hear salute fire from the shore. A well hidden battery was located not far from the beach in the dense tropical forest. "Twenty four pounders, I fancy, Sir," opined Lt. Fortescue. "Very likely. Never saw this battery. It's a good thing we reached an agreement with the Haitians. They could have knocked us about badly. Take the bearing of the battery, though. We have to report its location." The Clyde sailed on a south-western course, while the Tempest made for Kingston, Jamaica. The freed male prisoners had been transferred to the prize, along with the senior surgeon's mate. They were English, Dutch and even two Danish sailors, captured by a Spanish privateer whose captain had used the little cove near the monastery as his base. The motives for the monk and the prioress to keep the men prisoner were not quite clear to Tony. What he had learned from the prisoners, though, was that they had been tortured repeatedly to make them swear off their allegiance to the Protestant faith. At least two of the younger men had also been abused sexually by the monk, as had been several of the women. Tony guessed that he had also abused Donna Maria, a fatal mistake. Tony assumed that most of the freed prisoners could make their way home from Kingston, and the Clyde would pick up the prize crew on her return from the Spanish Main. Two days into the journey, Fra Angelo died of gangrene. His body, sewn in canvas with a round shot at his feet, was dropped into the sea. After the short ceremony, Tony went into the cabin. Donna Maria was there, so was the young nun, Inés, who never left her side. "Capitan," Donna Maria began, "you know that I regard this girl, Inés, as my personal friend?" "Yes, Donna Maria, I was aware of this." "Inés told me that you promised to bring her to safety. I would love to take her to Cartagena with me, as my companion, but she fears for her life in any Spanish town. I am afraid that her fears are not without reason. She is a renegade nun, and the arms of her former order reach far. As much as it hurts me to say, the only safe place for Inés is a Protestant country. Can you bring her to England, or at least to Jamaica?" Tony contemplated the request. He had given his word to protect the girl, and he could see that her actions would be seen as treason by her order. Bringing her to Jamaica would not be a good idea. Tony knew how people with African blood were treated, people with "a touch of the old tar brush". She would have a better life in England where the prejudice was less severe. Perhaps she could help Rose Mulcahy with the household if he offered her to stay in his house. "Inès, tell me, have you learned to cook?" "No, Don Antonio," she replied in a small voice. Then she looked up as if she remembered something. "But I can sew very well. My father was a tailor, my mother helped him, and I learned to sew as well." "How come you joined the order?" Tony asked. The girl's eyes became moist. "My parents died of the fever when I was thirteen years old. There were no relatives to take care of me, and so the padres decided that I should join the order to earn my keep." "So you can sew," Tony mused. "I think I know a place for you. In England, in Portsmouth where I come from, I know a seamstress who just started her own business. I will ask her to accept you as apprentice. Would you like that?" "Si, Don Antonio, I would like that very much." Inés smiled at Tony tentatively. Tony smiled back and was rewarded with the sight of a beautiful, beaming girl. Donna Maria cleared her throat, and Inés snapped back into her quiet demeanour. "I thank you, Capitan, for taking care of her. I will ask my husband to reward her, too, so that she will have means to support herself." Inés started to bow, but Donna Maria took her into her arms. "Do not thank me, Inés. I owe you my freedom, I can never repay what you did for me and the other women." For a few moments, the stately woman and the young creole girl held their embrace, then Donna Maria regained her composure. "Shall I have the pleasure of dining with you tonight, Capitan?" she asked, obviously to change the topic. "The pleasure will be all mine, Donna Maria," Tony answered just like any gentleman would have answered this invitation. But it was more than just convention on his part. He had, in the last three days, found a soul mate in this indomitable woman. Their conversation covered just about every topic imaginable. She had a voracious desire for news, since she had been cut off from the outside world for three years, and Tony did his best to fill the gaps in her knowledge. Those years spent in isolation, however, had given this great woman leisure to develop her own ideas and opinions, mostly about the behaviour of men and women, and her insight was astounding to a man like Tony who usually viewed relationships mostly under the aspect of sating his hunger for love, physical love to be precise. One could say, that in those few evenings in the presence of Donna Maria, Tony learned more about women than in the preceding 26 years of his life. When the Clyde finally approached the harbour of Cartagena, Tony felt regret. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 8: Doña Maria It was the last evening of the voyage. Tony had ordered to shorten sails. He did not want to make the landfall at night. He and his guest had dinner with Inés; but now the girl had retired and they were alone. "Don Antonio, you have rarely told me anything about your private affairs. I know that you are not married, but you must have a fiancé." Tony's face must have shown the pain, because she put her hand on his arm. "I am sorry, I did not mean to stir up sad memories." "No reason to be sorry, Doña Maria," Tony answered with a forced smile. "I really should get over it, but it is not that easy." "Would you care to talk with me?" "It is quite simple, Doña Maria. I met this girl when I was 18 years old and second mate in my father's ship. I fell in love with her right away. She was the daughter of an admiral. I think I joined the Navy mostly because I wanted to be eligible for her." "What happened?" "We fell out a year later over a stupid mistake I made during a ball her father gave." Here Tony blushed noticeably. "I only met her again over three years later. I had just been promoted captain and I met her in her family's home in London. We made up with our past quarrel and we fell in love again. I was to leave on a journey to the Great South Sea, a year's trip, and she promised me to wait for my return." "What happened?" "I don't really know what happened. I only know that when I returned, there was a letter for me, from her mother, to inform me that she was married to another man, the son and heir of a Peer. She did not even wait half a year before she broke her promise." Doña Maria put her hand on Tony's arm. "Have you seen her, since then?" "Yes, a chance meeting on the street. She was with her fat husband. She nearly fainted when she saw me." "And what did you do?" Tony smiled grimly. "I exacted a little revenge. She had given me a medallion with her image. I returned it to her in the face of her husband. I suppose she had some explaining to do." Doña Maria smiled. "That was quite subtle. So I take it that you do not trust women anymore?" Tony found his smile back. "No. I had the luck to meet a very special woman in London during my last stay. We made no commitment, but it was good to be with her. She restored some of my faith in the female gender. I did something stupid, though. When in Portsmouth, I had an affair with another young woman, too. Now, I am worried that I may hurt either or both of them." "You are an enterprising young gentleman, Don Antonio," she mocked him. Then she became thoughtful. "I have not seen my husband in over three years. I admit to being worried. What if he, under the assumption I was dead, remarried?" "Doña Maria, a man who is married to you will never look at another woman again," Tony assured her. She grinned sadly. "My husband and I were married for political reasons. He is considerate to me, but his love is devoted to his maitresse. He has known her long before me, but he could not marry her. Her father had fallen into disgrace. So he had to marry me, but he has not spent ten nights in my bed." "I am sorry to hear that. Are you afraid he might not welcome you?" "No, no," she said bitterly. "I am much too important for his ambitions. My father serves at the Royal Court. No, he will welcome me, and we will settle into our previous life again." Tony was not sure, but he thought he saw her eyes brimming with tears in the diffuse candle light of the cabin. "I don't know what to say, other than I am sorry for you, Doña Maria. You deserve much better." Now Tony had put his hand on her arm. A spark of understanding flew between them as Doña Maria put her hand on his. They remained like this for minutes, their eyes locked into each other's. Then she stood up slowly. "Give me a few minutes to prepare," she whispered, when Tony scrambled to his feet. She pressed his hand once more before she disappeared into her sleeping chamber. Tony called for his steward and had him clear the table before he retired to the chartroom where he had his temporary accommodation. He quickly took off his heavy uniform coat and stock. In the dim light of a candle, he shaved and washed the day's sweat off his body with a cloth. Then, in his shirt and breeches, he walked over to Doña Maria's chamber and knocked softly. She opened the door and pulled him in. The chamber was pitch dark, but he felt her naked body in his arms as their mouths locked in the first, passionate kiss. Tony felt his way to the cot where he lay down, pulling the woman on top of him. He felt her breasts as they swung with her movements, her nipple tracing circles over his chest, while his hands had taken hold of her buttocks. He quickly peeled his breeches down over his legs and shucked them off while Maria stayed perched on top of him. Holding her hips, he guided her pubes toward his own, turgid member. Maria gasped when she felt the tip of his penis brush against her swollen labia. She tried to capture the tip of his member with her nether lips, undulating her hips. Tony helped by a minute repositioning of his hips, and then the tip of his cock gained a hold between her labia. With a sob, Maria impaled herself on his penis. Deeper and deeper, her opening swallowed his rod until, finally, their pubes rubbed against each other. She bent down to his face and kissed him deeply, all the while keeping him deep inside her. Her hips moved in a small circular movement that rubbed her little nubbin against Tony's thick pubic hair. He found it increasingly difficult to hold off his impending release. The sensations he felt were just too much after an enforced celibacy of over 4 months. Maria, too, was building up rapidly. For three years, only her own fingers had given her release in the wee hours of the morning, and she forcibly banned all memories of the foul touches by Fra Angelo. She had only felt repulsion at the monk's touch. But now, she was riding this real man, this young and healthy man, who desired her body as much as she craved his. She lost herself in the sensations his large member caused in her little used quim. The next picture before her eyes was a baby. Yes, she knew it. The captain was about to release his semen into her, she would be with child, with his child. It was this thought of procreation that finally drove her over the edge. Tony felt her movements becoming more urgent, felt her pubes rubbing his, and her love canal began to contract around his rod. The sensation proved to much. With a barely suppressed groan he began to ejaculate into her. His addled brain did not register her urgent whispers at first, but then, he understood. "Give me your child, Antonio, your child, our child! Give it to me! Ah, yesss." She went limp over him and collapsed onto his chest. There she lay while Tony caressed her face. In the darkness, he found her chin and guided her mouth to his lips. For minutes they remained glued to each other. When their breathing had returned to normal, Maria lifted herself up and disengaged his softening penis from her quim. She squeezed her body between the wall and Tony's body. "Thank you," she said simply. "No, Maria, I must thank you for these wonderful moments." He tried to see her face in the darkness. "Do you think we started a child?" "I have that feeling, don't ask me why," Maria answered dreamily. "It just feels right to me." "But what about your husband. If he finds out, he'll kill you." "No, he won't, Antonio. Do not worry. We have been childless. His maitresse has not had children either. He knows that he cannot have an heir by himself. He will be happy. Of course, I must make him lie by me for appearance sake, for him to save face." "We could turn about, you know. I can bring you to England. We could also contact your husband privately first, to see whether he welcomes your resurrection." "No, Antonio. I will not run away. I will not return through the back door either. As I said, do not worry. But there is one thing I would ask you." "Yes, whatever you want." "Can we do it one more time?" Later that night, when the morning watch was called, Tony disentangled himself from the sleeping woman. His arm had fallen asleep, causing discomfort. He also needed to clear out of the cabin before he compromised Doña Maria. She mumbled in her sleep, and Tony kissed her forehead before he sneaked out of the chamber. Back in his makeshift chamber, he dropped on his cot. Six hours later found him on the quarterdeck, a dressing gown over his naked body. The startled men of the watch were ordered to rig a deck wash pump, and when they reported ready, Tony dropped his dressing gown and had the pump squad hose him down. The cool water was refreshing and he felt invigorated when he was back in his chamber, dressing in his second best uniform kit. He expected to make contact with the Spanish today, and he did not want to sell himself or the service cheaply. The wet puddle on the quarterdeck had long evaporated, when the lookout called out land. Doña Maria appeared on the deck and Tony greeted her with all formality. "Good morning, Doña Maria! I trust you slept well?" She had trouble suppressing a silly giggle, and she looked gorgeous. Her eyes were shining, and there was a happy smile on her lips. "Thank you, Capitan, I most certainly had a very good night." Tony kissed the hand she offered. "As you will have noticed, we are in the approach to Cartagena. Another two hours should see us off the fortifications. We will have to contact his Most Catholic Majesty's representatives under White Flag first, to state our peaceful intentions. Perhaps you could write a message to be delivered to your husband?" She nodded. "I have already foreseen this need. A letter informing my husband of my fate is written and sealed. It can be delivered at any time." Reluctantly, Tony let go of her hand. There was so much more he wanted to say but time was running out. They could see the mainland from the deck now. On the Captain's order, the helmsman corrected the course slightly, and HMS Clyde neared the great walled city of Cartagena. Here, Francis Drake had plundered in 1586. Since then, the fortifications had been doubled and trebled to shield the wealth of Cartagena. However, in 1741, Admiral Vernon had again succeeded in subduing the city. When they neared the bocagrande, the northern entry into the Bahia de Cartagena, Captain Carter had a white flag of truce hoisted over the British colours. In response, a huge Spanish flag was hoisted over the large fort at the mouth of the inlet. The Clyde hove to, out of cannon shot range. The cutter was lowered to the water, and the third lieutenant, Mr. Dunn, was entrusted with the letters to the governor. The cutter sailed towards the shore with the white flag flying. Tony watched the boat through his glass. He could see that there was a Spanish officer on the jetty underneath the walls of the fort. As ordered, Dunn returned with the cutter after delivering the letters, and the Clyde stayed hove to for more than four hours. Tony and Doña Maria had lunch in the cabin. They both knew they were on stolen time, but they made the most of it. "I really loved what we did last night, Antonio," Maria told him while they were sipping coffee. The table had been cleared, and they were undisturbed. "It was one of the most memorable nights in my life," Tony answered, slightly embarrassed. There had been a lot of such nights lately. Maria grinned. "Don't worry, Antonio, dear. It was obvious that you have vast experience. I am not jealous, how could I? I am just thankful that providence has granted me one night of love and passion." "Do you really think we may have started a child, Maria?" She smiled. "I can only hope. I would love to have a child before I am too old. And I would love to have your child. And my husband, well, I think he will be pleased, too. After all, he needs an heir. If things get unpleasant, I will claim that Fra Angelo was the culprit who dishonoured me." Tony looked at her. "Do you want to talk about him?" "No, Antonio, I'd rather not. He was a vile man, a monster. He did things to the prisoners that are too foul to talk about. He's dead now, and I will not allow him to haunt me." "Can you write letters to me? I would like to hear from you." "You mean, about whether I am with child?" she smiled. "Yes, I think I can arrange for letters to be sent. I will not be able to write about my feelings for you, my husband will read them, no doubt." She looked at him. "Antonio, you really should have a wife. Try to put this other girl out of your mind. She did not deserve you. What about the actress you said you met in London?" "I've only met her one evening. She is very popular and she has admirers all the way up to the Royal Family. She cannot possibly be interested in me." "Don't be too sure. If she is popular and admired, chances are she is lonely. All those admirers cannot give her what you can give and what I felt last night." "What's that?" Tony asked bewildered. "Love and devotion, Antonio. Of that you have enough to last for more than one woman. If she felt what I felt last night, she will wait for your return. Don't miss out on the chance for happiness!" Just then, they heard steps approach and then a knock on the door. Mr. Wilson stepped inside. "Sir, Mr. Fortescue's compliments, and there is a boat coming from the shore. A big boat with many officers, Sir." "Thank you Mr. Wilson, I shall be on deck presently." When the door had closed, Tony and Maria both stood and embraced. Nothing was said. Then he left the cabin and joined his officers on deck. The approaching boat was large, almost 40 feet long, and propelled by eighteen oars. At least a half dozen officers in red and golden uniforms populated the stern. The boat hooked to the chains and a Spanish naval officer called up in halting English. "His Excellency, Don Alonso Christobal Ruiz de Costa y Torquena, His Most Catholic Majesty's Governor of Cartagena, asks for permission to come aboard." "His Excellency is most welcome and we feel honoured by his visit," Tony answered. A command brought the Royal Marines to attention, the boatswains pipes twittered, and Don Alonso came on board to the tune of an eighteen gun salute. Tony welcomed him and presented him to his officers. His Excellency, in turn, introduced his suite. After everybody had bowed at least a dozen times, Tony led Don Alonso to the cabin where Doña Maria stood prepared to meet her husband. Tony studied the little scene, and he was surprised to see that Don Alonso seemed genuinely happy about the return of his wife. He kissed her hands, he complimented her, and seemed just as excited as a loving husband could be expected to be. He turned to Tony. "Don Antonio, you have earned my eternal gratitude. You have brought back the light of my life. For years, I feared that I had lost her. You must visit Cartagena, please. We will have a fiesta like this city has never seen. Prepare to stay a week at least. If you agree, Capitan Ortega will stay with you to escort you into the harbour. You are hereby invited most cordially." That was something Tony had feared. But he could not refuse a personal invitation without raising suspicion. "Your Excellency is very kind. On behalf of myself and my officers I accept your kind invitation." The procession moved to the deck. Maria was lowered into the boat using a boatswain's chair, the governor bade his farewell, and the boat rowed back to the shore with hurry. Capitan Ortega stayed behind, and he gave the British captain instructions as how to navigate the entrance to the bay. It was late afternoon when the Clyde cast anchor in the harbour of Cartagena. Capitan Ortega took his leave, but promised to be back later in the day. He was replaced, though, by a severe looking elderly gentleman who introduced himself as Don Alonso's confidential aide and secretary. He spoke passable English and wanted to know as much as possible about the situation in the monastery. He then drafted a report which Tony had to countersign. Another boat arrived shortly after, to take the remaining female prisoners and nuns to the shore. A grim looking priest oversaw this action whom Tony recognised from his frock as being an Inquisitor. The senior nun who had been lying to Tony on that first morning at the monastery, approached the Inquisitor, but he answered brusquely, and she shrank away, visibly terrified. When the Inquisitor approached Tony, he was reluctant. He was used to dealing with heretics, but this particular heretic happened to be armed and an honoured guest of the governor. Garcia had to serve as interpreter again. Although Tony's Spanish had vastly improved during the evenings spent with Doña Maria, he preferred to use the translator to gain time for his responses. The inquisitor spoke, and Garcia translated. "He says one more nun here. He wants her, Sir." Tony set his jaw. "Tell him she is my personal guest and that I guaranteed her safety with my word of honour. Tell him that he will have to do without her." Garcia translated and the priest looked daggers at both of them. He spoke at length again, and Tony had difficulties understanding him. "He says, way of church more important than word of honour, Sir, begging your pardon, she must appear before inquisitor." "Tell him, no. Tell him, she will stay here. Tell him that I take no orders from him." Garcia grinned and translated. The inquisitor looked around, obviously trying to think of a way to enforce his will. When no idea came, he turned around wordlessly and left over the side of the ship and into the boat. This was the last they heard from him. Later that afternoon, Capitan Ortega returned with a barge. The barge carried two freshly roasted bullocks that were still hot. Fresh vegetables and maize bread complemented the dinner Don Alonso sent for the crew of the Clyde. The men were ecstatic. Fresh roasted meat after months of boiled salted pork was a heavenly treat. Fresh vegetables were the utmost luxury, and soft white bread instead of maggot infested ship's biscuit was beyond imagination for the average sailor. Capitan Ortega also brought a message commanding Captain Sir Anthony Carter and his officers to a reception at the governor's palace for the next morning at 11 o'clock civilian time. The message stated that there would be a mass at church to thank for the safe return of Doña Maria, but Don Alonso begged forgiveness, explaining that non-Catholics could not be admitted. Thus, at four bells on the forenoon watch, Captain Carter, with four lieutenants and six midshipmen, all in their best uniforms, was rowed ashore in the longboat. Three coaches with uniformed footmen waited for them, and they were transported to the Castillo San Felipe. When they entered the Great Hall of the governor's residence, Don Alonso himself came to greet them. As the guest of honour, Captain Sir Anthony Carter, C.B., was seated to the left of Their Excellencies, just opposite of the Bishop. As soon as the British officers were seated, Don Alonso gave a long and flowery speech, in which he expressed his gratitude to God, the Mother Mary, the saints in general and the patron saints in particular, His Holiness the Pope, His Most Catholic Majesty, and, wonder over wonder, the Royal Navy in the person of his dear friend Don Antonio, for the great privilege of having his beloved wife returned to him unharmed. Don Alonso expressed his hope that in the difficult times ahead, the governments of His Majesty, George III, and his Most Catholic Majesty would find it in their powers to maintain peace between the two great nations represented. All the dignitaries clapped the hands dutifully and looked upon 'Don Antonio' for his answer. Luckily, Tony had envisioned the necessity to deliver a formal answer, and with the help of the sailor Garcia, he had drafted a short answer in which he pointed out the great honour conferred to his ship by the privilege to give transportation to Doña Maria and the chance to be the first to congratulate His Excellency on the safe return of his wife. Now the glasses were raised in salute, and toasts were delivered on the health of all the aforementioned monarchs and dignitaries. Tony drank sparingly and he looked sternly at his young officers to call them to their duty to remain sensible. Mr. Fortescue caught Tony's glance and obviously passed on the order. Tony could see that his young men drank less enthusiastically with the next toasts. When the toasts had been offered, servants swarmed out to load the tables with the first course of food. It was excellent food, if spicy, and Doña Maria looked at Tony with amusement in her eyes when he took his first bite. But Tony had been raised in the Caribbean, and chilli peppers were nothing new to him, in fact he relished spicy food. When Tony expressed his appreciation of the dish, it was obvious to everyone that he meant it. Again, he ate sparingly, knowing full well that this was the first dish in at least seven courses. When they finished with a sweet dessert and a heavy, sweet wine almost two hours later, Tony had to concede that he had rarely eaten better in his life. Hot chocolate was served, and then Don Alonso stood again. "My dear friends," he began, "yesterday was the happiest day in my life. My beloved wife, abducted by treacherous hand, had been missing for three years. Only my firm belief in the Holy Virgin gave me solace in those years." He bent towards the Bishop who smiled graciously. "At long last, by the grace of god, her false imprisonment ended at the hands of our dear guest, Don Antonio. We have thanked the Almighty this morning, now is the time to thank the tool of his mercy. "Don Antonio, I shall always remain in your debt. We cannot offer you lands or fortune to express our thanks as you are a faithful servant of the great King George of England, may God bless him and enlighten him. "As a token of my eternal gratitude, however, I would like to present you with this sword. It was forged for my Brother Enrique, by the best sword makers of Toledo where the best swords of the world are made. He used it with honour until he perished in the service of His Most Catholic Majesty. Let me express the hope that you will never have to unsheathe it against Spanish soldiers. But most importantly, my dear friend, let me hope that this blade, so finely crafted, will never fail you in a moment of danger." And with this, he presented Tony with a beautiful sword. Tony had never seen the like. He knew that Toledo steel was the best in the world and he was aware of the immense value of this weapon. "Your Excellency," he started, "you have just given me the greatest compliment. To be found worthy of carrying this magnificent sword is a great honour indeed. This weapon will adorn my side until my deathbed, and when I will pass it on to my eldest son, I will tell him of the great honour conferred to my family with this present. I thank you, your Excellency, and I salute you and your family!" From the face of his host, Tony could see that his words were well taken. Several servants stepped forward and presented the other officers of the Clyde with beautiful, if less valuable, swords. Even Mr. Fortescue, who came from a noble family and possessed a well crafted sword, showed his appreciation of the gift. When all the thanks had been voiced properly, the reception came to an end. The governor invited Tony for the next afternoon to have a more private meeting, and the British officers were escorted back to the harbour. Heavy with food and wine and exalted over their beautiful new swords they returned to the Clyde. Again, the Spanish had delivered fresh food to the ship, and Tony found his crew almost as happy as his officers. Back in his cabin, Tony examined his new sword reverently. It had perfect balance, the straight blade was gleaming like silver, and the gold-plated hilt must have been worth a King's ransom. He estimated the material value at five hundred guineas, but that was only half of it. Swords of Toledo steel were extremely rare in England, and to have one presented as a gift was almost unheard of. He could envision the looks of envy his fellow officers would show. Reluctantly, he hung the sword on the wall. His old sword, though, would find a place of honour, too. After all, it has served him for five years, and more than once he had relied on it with his life. Tony mused over the day's events. He had not had a chance to talk to Maria at all. Yet he was confused. Either her husband had had a change of mind or Maria had not told him the truth. The man had positively showered his wife with compliments, had been considerate and caring. Perhaps Tony would find out more during the private visit tomorrow. Having had some cold roast for dinner, Tony spent the evening writing his reports. It was a rare opportunity for him to do the paperwork without being interrupted. He went to bed early, relishing the thought of nine hours of uninterrupted sleep before him. His thoughts lingered on Maria while he drifted into sleep. In this room, two nights ago, they had loved each other. He wondered how her life would be now. He just hoped she would find the love she deserved. The next morning, Tony enjoyed the luxury of a breakfast on his quarterdeck. The land breeze was cooling him while he watched the sun rise over the mountains of the headland. The air was dry today, Tony mused. An excellent chance to air the spare sails. Another work party could repair the seams on the main deck. There were always repairs to do in a wooden sailing ship, and time in harbour was precious. He gave orders to Mr. Fortescue, and soon the work parties started with their tasks. Just then, the former nun Inés came on deck and approached him. She was wearing new clothes that must have arrived in a package from Doña Maria the day before. She looked weird with her short hair, but Tony had to concede that she had a beautiful face, and her dress left no doubt about the hidden beauty of her body. When she reached him, Tony got up and ordered another chair to be brought. "Sit and have breakfast with me," he invited the girl. Inés made a curtsey before she sat. She produced an envelope which she handed to Tony. "Doña Maria sent me a gift of clothes yesterday. In it there was a letter addressed to you, Don Antonio. The steward brought a plate and fresh bread, and the girl ate with appetite while Tony opened the letter. "My dear Antonio, I wonder whether you have noticed the loving behaviour my husband displayed. He had a complete change of heart. His mistress, Carla, had conspired with my cousin to abduct me. When I had disappeared, she pressured my husband remorselessly to declare me dead and marry her. Finally, he lost patience. He suspected her to have a hand in my disappearance. The Inquisitor questioned her for only two days before she broke down and told the truth. Unfortunately, my cousin had been killed in a fight with an English ship, and Carla did not know my whereabouts. She was garrotted, but my poor husband feared that his affair with her had caused my death. He was overjoyed to have me back and he has affirmed his love for me convincingly. Consequently, I am looking forward to a happier marriage. I will try to write to you, but for the sake of our future happiness, we must not betray ourselves during the remainder of your stay. Please be assured of my eternal thanks. You have given me happiness in more than one way, and I will include you in my private prayers. I wish you happiness and health. I pray for you to find a woman worthy of you, but for that, you must open your heart again. Yours in love Maria" Well, Tony thought, that explains a lot. It also meant, that she did not want him to try and talk to her privately. He understood that. Given the fate of her rival, it was not wise to incur the wrath of Don Alonso. He seemed to be equally generous in dispensing rewards and punishment. He looked up into the concerned eyes of Inés. "Is all good with Doña Maria?" she asked anxiously. She had picked up some English over the last weeks. Tony thought about it. What had he expected? Maria could have never been his. It would have been far more hurting for him if he had had to leave her in an unhappy marriage. The fact that she had a chance for a brighter future relieved him. He smiled. "Yes, Inés, all is good for her. She just wanted to inform me that she is happy again." "This is good," the girl answered, returning his smile. "She write me letter, too. Wish me luck. She send me this." Inès showed him a heavy gold necklace and at least ten heavy gold rings around her wrists. Tony nodded appreciatively. "This is a generous gift. If you sell these, the money will support you a long time. But you should still work." "I want work," the girl nodded, "I learn and work." She wrinkled her nose and looked at him. "You want me to sleep with you now?" Tony who had just taken a sip of coffee nearly shot the hot fluid through his nose. "What?" "You want sleep with me? I not woman like Doña Maria but can learn." "Why would you want to do that," Tony asked, fencing for time. "I no man for many years. You best man on ship. Doña Maria says same, she scream a lot in night. I want you." "Have you been with men before?" Tony asked incredulously. He had always thought nuns had to be virgins. Inés grinned. "Yes. Papa send me to nuns porque ... because I sleep with men." Tony patted her hand. "Listen. This is something I am not quite prepared to do yet. Also, do not mess around with any of my men. I do not want any quarrels because of you. You waited years, wait a few more weeks, will you? I really want to help you, but I cannot allow you to cause trouble on board my ship." "Si, Capitan," she answered dejectedly, "I only think you like me." "But I do like you, Inés. Have some patience." Inés nodded. When she finished eating, Giles cleared the table away, and Tony spent the morning listening to the reports by the various warrant officers. The ship's carpenter, Mr. Wiseman, was full of praise for the ship. She hardly leaked at all. Her timbers must have been well dried before she was built. The purser reported that he had been able, with the help of Garcia, to procure additional provisions for the return trip. Given the heat, the purser proposed to dole out more water to the men as long as they lay in the harbour, and Tony approved, pleased that the purser cared for the crew in this fashion. As if on cue, a boat came from the quay, bringing them the day's provision of fresh food, courtesy of the governor. The boat also carried ten crates of wine bottles at a dozen apiece, a gift for the officers and well received. It was early afternoon, when Tony saw a coach on the quay, and he readied himself for the afternoon appointment with the governor. Of course, he wore the new sword. His gig brought him to the quay, and Capitan Ortega met him at the coach to accompany him. They pursued an idle conversation during the 20 minute coach ride. Tony was only half attentive, since a new concern had come to his mind. If the governor received news of a renewed outbreak of hostilities between Spain and England, the Clyde would be seized. He was sitting in a trap in the narrow, well fortified bay. He had to leave. England would never forgive him if he got caught in a Spanish port while holding idle intercourse with the governor and his wife. He decided to broach the subject today and to ask for leave. Unconsciously, he formed the necessary explanations in his mind. At the residence, he was met by a major domo and led into a modest room in the governor's private wing. Maria was there. She stood to meet him, and Tony hastened to kiss her hand. When he stood erect again, she cast him a look and briefly pursed her lips in a faint symbol of a kiss. She took his hand and led him to the table, pressing his hand briefly. "My husband will join us in a minute, Don Antonio. Would you care for a hot chocolate?" "Perhaps later, Doña Maria." "I trust Inés is fine? Did she receive the clothes I sent her?" "Obviously, Doña Maria. I saw her in a new dress this morning. She was eager to show me all the contents of the package," he answered, slightly stressing the word 'all'. Tony felt like he had to talk to an invisible audience. There was a flicker in Maria's eye, and a short nod towards a huge portrait. Tony waited a few moments and then gazed quickly in the indicated direction. The eyes in the portrait moved! Obviously, Don Alonso wanted to find out how close Tony had come to his wife. Tony had to suppress a smile. "You must be very happy to have returned to a life that is appropriate for a woman of your standing, Doña Maria. I, for once, can only congratulate your esteemed husband on the good fortune that restored you to him." "Yes, my husband is very happy and I count myself lucky to have a husband who believed so firmly in my return." "The only alternative would have been utter despair!" came the voice of Don Alonso from the door. "Now I have a chance to thank you in private for the great service you did to me. Not only rescuing my dear Maria from those rascals, but also undertaking to return her to me so speedily. But let us be comfortable first." He clapped his hands and servants appeared with trays with hot chocolate and pastries. Don Alonso was very cordial, probably because he was satisfied that nothing was going on between his wife and the Englishman. After a half hour of polite chit chat, Tony broached the subject of his leaving. "You have been a wonderful and generous host, Don Alonso, and I know you invited us to stay for a week. I feel deep regret about this, but I have to leave tomorrow, with your leave. Naturally, my orders did not account for the possibility that I had to return a Spanish lady to her distinguished husband. As it stands, I need to sail for Jamaica with all haste to report to my superiors. I hope you and your wife will forgive me." His Excellency was disappointed but gracious. "We soldiers have to follow orders," he sighed. "I will notify our harbour authorities and coastal defences that you will leave tomorrow." "Your Excellency is very understanding," Tony answered politely. "But there is another matter to settle," the governor remembered. "This young woman who informed you on my wife's imprisonment, we must reward her properly. This is delicate because she has been excommunicated for leaving the order. If I handed you a sum of money to be distributed among those who helped you free my wife, would you undertake to give her a fair share?" "Certainly, Don Alonso. The only other person to have a claim would be Volunteer First Class Mr. Samuel Wilson who heard the shouts of the prisoners and alerted me to the situation." "Then by all means, let him have a share for his good services!" He handed Tony a heavy purse. Tony bowed in response. Then Doña Maria spoke up. "It is with great regret that my husband and I see your early departure. Please remember that whichever way the relationships between our countries may develop, you will always have personal friends in my husband and myself." ""Well spoken, my dear Maria," the governor chimed in. "Let us therefore have a toast on our personal friendship and on future peace between our great nations and our sovereigns!" Servants with filled glasses appeared, and again toasts were drunk to most everybody imaginable. For one last time and under the alert eyes of her husband, Tony kissed Doña Maria's hand, and then he left. The evening was spent with preparations for an early start, and a little after five bells in the morning watch, the Clyde weighed anchor. Shot for shot, a salute was exchanged with the citadel, and the Clyde crept over the bay under the morning breeze. Another salute was exchanged later with the forts at the entrance of the bay, and then the Clyde set her sails for a dash to the north and to Jamaica. With the prevailing winds, Tony expected to reach Kingston within three to four days, the distance being a mere 460 nautical miles. On the second day, though, they encountered a dead calm. For more than two days, the merciless sun beat down on the motionless ship, melting the pitch in the seams of the deck, and making it a torture for the barefooted sailors to walk the hot planks. Fortunately, during the fourth night, a breeze gave them steerage again, and they crept over the oily sea at a mere 4 knots. Even this was testimony to the superior speed of the Clyde. All in all, it took them eight days to reach Kingston harbour. The squadron was at anchor in Kingston Harbour when HMS Clyde cast anchor. Tony's first duty was to report to the commander-in-chief. The sails had hardly been fastened when the Clyde's gig splashed into the water. John Little and the crew hastened to take positions, and then Tony rushed down the Jacob's ladder with his reports and log book. The boatswain's pipes twittered when Tony stepped through the entry port of the Euryalus, Sir John Borlase's flagship. An elderly captain received him. "Wainwright, Chief of Staff," he introduced himself. Tony did not know the man. He was led to the admiral's cabin. The Euryalus was a second rate ship of 98 guns, a huge monster of a sailing ship, and the admiral's cabin was as luxurious as one could expect. Sir John sat at his desk when Tony entered, but he raised to receive Tony's salute. "Welcome, Sir Anthony, have a seat. Your prize came in two weeks ago with those prisoners and your report. It made for an interesting reading. What else do you have?" Tony produced his report but Sir John made a short gesture and Captain Wainwright took the envelope. "Report to me!", the admiral grinned. Tony set out to explain his reasoning why he escorted Doña Maria to Cartagena. The journey he touched only briefly, but he reported in detail about his observations in Cartagena, what officers had been at the reception, the state of the fortifications, in short, everything of military importance. "It seems you have made good use of your time there," Sir John remarked. "What are your orders, Captain?" "I was to extract assurances from the Black leaders in Saint Domingue that they would not support any hostile activity against His Majesty's dominions, then sail back to Portsmouth to report, Sir John," Tony replied. "I was advised to touch Kingston and see whether I may be able to pick up a convoy on the return journey." Sir John's face brightened. "That's thoughtful of the Earl," he opined. "In fact, I have twenty sails ready, but there's only one sloop of 16 guns, the Retribution, to escort. Six pounders," he added contemptuously. "The outgoing governor is to sail in the convoy. We better not lose him. I suppose with your big frigate to escort him, His Lordship can feel safe." "When do you expect the convoy to be ready, Sir John?" "A week, ten days. Listen, Sir Anthony, I'll be hosting a dinner at Admiralty House tomorrow. The Governor's coming, so is His Lordship and some of the more important captains of the convoy. You are invited, and you can meet with them." "That is very kind of you, Sir John," Tony replied dutifully. "Well, Captain, until tomorrow. Enjoy your stay here." "Thank you, Sir John." A relieved Tony returned to his ship. Escorting twenty merchantmen to England on the return trip was an easy task. After relaying the news to Mr. Fortescue, Tony had himself rowed to the shore. From the boat harbour, he walked the short distance to his old house. It was strange to walk the familiar streets again, after more than two years, but it was stranger still when they arrived at his house and found it empty and locked. Well, he had written to his attorney to have him sell the house, but he had not expected this to happen so fast. He therefore directed his steps to his attorney's house. Mr. Rawling was indeed at home, and he was obviously pleased to meet his most distinguished client. "Do come in, Sir Anthony. How about a glass of sherry? No? Something stronger? A lemonade? Splendid!" After they were seated with glasses of lemonade, Tony listened to Mr. Rawling. "The sale went through without a hitch, and I am happy to tell you that I cleared £1200 pounds for the house and your father's old warehouse." Tony nodded appreciatively. "I also asked Mrs. Mulcahy about her decision, as you had indicated. Well, she's Mrs. Whitecliff now, and of course she will not be leaving Jamaica. She and her husband both declined any severance pay." "She's married?" Tony asked incredulously. "Yes, Sir Anthony, didn't you know? Well, it was when your letter arrived and we started the sale of your property. My associate, Mr. Whitecliff, visited with her frequently and it seems that she stole his heart. A lovely woman, and been a widow for so long! Mr. Whitecliff was a widower, too, with a small girl. A match made in heaven!" "How fortunate," Tony managed to contribute. What was it that made all the women in his life marry other men? But he quickly corrected his own injustice. He had never made a commitment to her, and she hadn't either. He could not expect her to turn down a suitor in the hope that he, Tony, might be back some day to swive her for a few days and return to sea. He had not been fair to her, he realised now. "Do you know where I may find Mrs. Whitecliff now. I would really like to congratulate her." "Certainly, Sir Anthony," Mr. Rawling boomed, and he proceeded to give Tony directions. Tony left shortly afterwards. He directed his steps to the new home of Rosy and her husband. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a small, red-haired girl. "Hello," the child said. "Are you Emily?" Tony asked. "Yes, Sir." "Would you fetch your mother, please?" "Yes, Sir," she answered and disappeared. Seconds later, Rose rushed to the door. "Oh Tony, I did not know you were here. Please come in!" She was obviously happy to see him. "Should I really come in, Rose?" "Yes, of course. My husband knows everything. I made a clean slate when he proposed to me, told him my story. He still wanted to marry me, so I suppose it is real love." "Must be," Tony conceded. "Are you happy, Rose?" She nodded. "Yes, Tony. I really am. He is a good man. And he is the best I could get," she added looking at Tony pointedly. He understood her implications. She knew he would not marry her, but she did not fault him. She had been loyal all those years, but she really had to move on with her own life. Her voice broke into his train of thoughts. "I was very proud when you asked me to become your housekeeper in Portsmouth. But then I thought, I might not be happy to see you marry another woman and have to work for her. I like you too much for that." "I understand," Tony answered, "it's not easy for me either. But I wish you happiness. And I want to thank you for all those years." "Don't thank me, you gave me something, too. I owe you almost everything. Tony?" "Yes, Rose?" "Can we hug once more? Can you show me you are not mad at me?" Tony simply stretched out his arms, and she laid her head against his shoulder. It was not long, not more than a minute before they separated. "Rose?" "Yes?" "Why wouldn't you accept the severance payment?" "We don't need it. And my husband thought, given our past relationship, it would not be in keeping with his honour if he profited from your generosity." Tony thought for a moment. "Would you accept the money on behalf of Emily? To be kept in trust for her by Mr. Rawling? She can receive it upon her marriage or when she is of age." "Would you really do that, Tony?" "Yes, I like her and she's been something akin to the daughter of my house. It would make me feel better." Rose stepped up to Tony, held his face, and gave him a long kiss. "Thank you. She is still too small, but one day I will tell her and she will appreciate your generosity." "It was worth it, just for this last kiss from you," Tony replied. "I don't want to cause any trouble for you, Rose. I better leave now. Farewell, and remember me if you ever need a friend." "Thank you for everything, Tony," she answered as he was already leaving. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 9: Anita HMS Clyde, en route from Kingston, Jamaica, with a convoy of twenty two sail, sighted Ushant in the early morning hours of a bleak January day in 1805. The biting cold winds were unaccustomed to her crew after months of service in the Caribbean. As they entered the English Channel, the impending end of the journey somewhat boosted the morale of the men who had to fight with frozen sails on the ice-covered yards of the big frigate. Captain Carter had ordered the shortening of their topsails to maintain the windward position of his ship relative to the convoy of merchantmen. Once they entered the Channel, there was an increased risk of an enemy encounter. The French had privateers who preyed on British convoys. The capture of just one Westindiaman would make a privateer captain a rich man. However, the prevailing weather, gusty winds just below gale force, and the bitter cold would make those privateers less adventurous. For whatever reason, Clyde and her consorts did not sight a single sail on their mad rush before the western gale, and by next morning, they reached the protected waters of the Spithead where Clyde discharged the ships of the convoy. Since he had sailed on Admiralty orders, Captain Carter obtained a passage on the Navy post chaise to London for the next day while he left his ship in charge of his capable First Lieutenant for refitting. He spent the first night on shore in his newly acquired house off Portsmouth's High Street. The lawyer, Mr. Hogsbotham, had procured a temporary caretaker for the house, but it was barely fit to live in. Tony Carter regretted that Rose Mulcahy had not come to work for him in Portsmouth, especially since he had to find a place to stay for the young renegade nun, Inés Ruis. In addition, his personal belongings from his Kingston household were on one of the merchantmen he had escorted, and they had to be transported into his new house. In the end, he entrusted young Samuel Wilson and his personal coxswain, John Little, with the supervision of his household in his absence. Together with Inés, they were to make the place habitable. The arrangement allowed for Samuel Wilson to lodge with his sister, a fact for which the boy was grateful. Just before the end of the journey, he had been promoted from volunteer to midshipman, and he was bursting to tell his sister about his first journey and the adventures he had seen. The next morning found Captain Carter on his way to London. The post chaise dropped him off at the Royal George Inn in the early afternoon, where he secured a room for the night and changed into a new shirt and uniform. He walked to the admiralty with his report under his arm and registered at the reception. A half hour later, a marine sergeant approached him. "Mr. Marsden is ready to see you, Sir Anthony." Mr. Marsden was the deputy secretary to their lordships, and he was like a younger copy of Mr. Nepean. "Welcome back, Sir Anthony! Now if you give me this report and make yourself comfortable in this chair, I can give it my attention. There is some port in that carafe if you care for a glass." Tony helped himself to a small glass of port while Mr. Marsden studied the report. When finished he looked up and smiled. "You have been around, Sir Anthony. You mention that the Spanish governor of Cartagena has assured you of his personal friendship?" "Indeed, Sir," Tony answered. "Splendid, we never know when this may come in handy. And this fellow Dessaline, do you think we can trust him?" There was just a faint hint of an edge in those words, and Tony answered carefully. "As I have written in my report, Sir, the self styled Emperor Dessaline has betrayed people in the past. He hates all white people. The General Vaval with whom I had the contact is an honest man, but he admits that he has little influence on Dessaline. In my opinion, Sir, we have to be watchful of the situation." Marsden sighed. "What you say is in agreement with the opinion of the Foreign Office, Captain. Well, it was worth the try, and maybe he will keep the agreement. I will pass your report to their Lordships, of course, along with your oral assessment. For the time being, I suggest you return to Portsmouth and your ship and wait for your next orders. Thank you for your time." Tony bowed in return and left. He had the evening to himself and he decided to pay a visit to Anita Heyworth. He walked the short distance in a brisk step. When he reached the familiar house, he walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to Anita's apartment. The door was opened and a maid looked at him with cocked eyebrows. "I am Sir Anthony Carter. I am a friend of Miss Heyworth. Would you kindly announce me?" "Miss Heyworth does not receive visitors, Sir Anthony. If you want to see her, you have to buy theatre tickets." "I believe, she will see me," Tony retorted, "now be so kind and tell her I am here." Before the suspicious maid could do anything, however, a voice came from within the apartment. "Is that you, Tony? Martha, show Sir Anthony into the living room! I shall be with you in a second." The bewildered maid led him to the living room, and Tony remembered his first visit when he and Anita had spent the night talking in this room. He was not left alone for long, though, because Anita rushed in and threw herself into his arms. "You're back! When did you arrive?" "Just yesterday. I came to London with the morning post. But my business with the Admiralty is finished, and I thought I'd pay you the promised visit." "This is lovely! Let me kiss you first!" And she kissed him. It was a long kiss which left them both breathless. Then she held Tony at arm's length. "How long can you stay in London?" "A few days, I suppose. There are no urgent tasks for me, in fact, they told me to wait for orders." "That's marvellous. In three days, I have a premiere. Tartuffe. One of Richard Wilbur's English adaptations of Molière. I play the Elmire. Would you like to be my company during premiere night?" "Are you sure, Anita? It would be a delight for me." "I am sure. And don't be so sure about the delight. You haven't seen me yet." "Do I get to see you? It must be too late to obtain tickets for a premiere." "Of course you must see me, silly! I can find tickets for you." "In that case, it will be my pleasure. Do you have plans for tonight?" "I had planned on revising my role once more. And tomorrow, we have costume fitting. In the afternoon I will meet two of my best friends, and I cannot disappoint them. Day after tomorrow, there is costume rehearsal, that will be a mad day. I'm so sorry, Tony, but I cannot go out with you before the premiere night. Please understand and forgive me." Tony smiled to hide his disappointment. "It is not a problem, Anita. I will return to Portsmouth then, to organise a few things. I will be back in three days. I will arrange so I can stay a few days. Is that agreeable with you?" "Yes. I am sorry, Tony, I would like nothing more than spending the next days with you, but I have my responsibilities. Thank you for understanding." She kissed him again, with feeling. "The ticket for you will be at the Royal George when you return. You are staying at the George, aren't you?" "Yes, thank you. I guess I better leave you to your preparations. Don't drive yourself too much." "You are sweet, Tony. I really look forward to being with you. You will come, won't you?" "Wild horses could not keep me...", he quoted. "Au revoir!" Tony walked back to the inn, deep in thought. If he was honest, he was disappointed that Anita did not have time for him. But on the bright side, she had asked him to be her companion on premiere night. Tony was dimly aware that this was a distinction that he would be envied for by a lot of gentlemen, and this gave him some solace. The next morning saw Captain Carter in the coach to Portsmouth. He arrived in the early afternoon and went straight to the harbour. At a signal from the shore, his gig came over from the Clyde to bring him on board. Lt. Fortescue gave him a rundown of what had happened over the last two days. There were some documents to be signed, too, but after two hours, Tony had himself rowed on shore again, and he walked the short distance to his house, accompanied by his coxswain. When he entered his home, he saw that a lot had been done in his absence. The house looked almost inhabited now. There were items of furniture and decorations that had to go, of course, such as paintings of the former owner's family, but it was comforting to see his own linens on his bed and his clothes in the dressing room. "You did a very good job, Mr. Little," he said. "Mr. Wilson and his sister helped, Sir, and Inés, too, I mean Miss Ruis, begging your pardon." Now, was there or was there not a blush under the ebony skin of the tall African? Perhaps little Inés had not wasted time. "Miss Wilson helped, too?" Tony asked. "Yes, Sir. She showed us where to put things and helped In... , Miss Ruis, to get the kitchen cleared." "Did they get along?" "Mighty fine, Sir. Miss Ruis will learn at Miss Wilson's shop, she said." "Yes, that was the idea. I suppose, I will walk over to Mulberry Street and talk to Miss Wilson and thank her," Tony sighed. He was not entirely at ease with that visit. He and Elisabeth Wilson had had an affair before the Clyde sailed for the Caribbean, and he was not sure how the lovely seamstress felt about him now. The shop looked nice from the outside, Tony thought. There was a shop window with a white dress draped over a high backed chair. Hesitantly, he opened the door and a chime sounded. "I'll be right with you!" he heard Elisabeth's voice from the back, and then quick steps followed. If she had reservations about him, she did not show them because she flung herself into his arms. "Anthony, you're back! What a nice surprise! Let me look at you!" "Hello, Elisabeth," Tony smiled his relief, "how are you faring? This is certainly a very nice shop." "Thank you, I rather like it myself," she beamed. "And business is wonderful. I will need an apprentice soon to handle all the work." "Well, I think I found you one, didn't I?" Tony laughed. "You mean Ines?" she asked. "Tell me, what is she to you?" "I promised her to bring her to safety. She did us a great service and I owe her. That's all." "You don't think your Mr. Little has cast an eye on her?" "If he does, good for him," Tony answered. "He is a free man, a volunteer. He is free, how do the Americans say, 'free in his pursuit of happiness'." "The way she looks at him, his happiness may not be far," Elisabeth opined. "But enough of that, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" "I just came to see how my favourite tenant is faring. And to invite her to dinner." "Dinner?" she asked with cocked eyebrows. "Will I get something to eat?" Then a grin spread over her face. "Your face was priceless," she laughed, "don't worry, I'd love to dine with you. When and where?" "Can I pick you up at eight?" "That would be fine. I'll finish and get dressed. Carpenter's?" "Your wish is my command. I can make do with fresh food for a change. So I'll pick you up at eight." He turned to leave, but Elisabeth stopped him with her hand on his shoulder. "Don't I rate a kiss anymore?" Tony smiled at her and gave her a chaste kiss. "That is all I get?" she asked with a fake pout. "Elisabeth, we need to talk and clear up a few things. I cannot just take you for granted. I must think of your future, too." "I know, Tony, I don't think we should continue our affair either. Among other things, getting pregnant would really mess things up for me. Let's talk this over during dinner." Tony nodded and gave her another kiss, this time with some feeling. It was later that evening, after they had shared a pleasant dinner, that they discussed the sensitive issues between them. "Elisabeth, it was reckless of me to seduce you. Now, I know you were no virgin, but I still feel bad." "Anthony, you needn't feel bad. I had a wonderful night. I felt good. But, same as you, I would prefer a less intimate relationship. As discrete as we may be, things may become public. Being known as harlot would really hurt my business." "You have a point there, Elisabeth. So what do we do? Can we remain friends? I would like to be there for you should you ever need a friend." Elisabeth smiled. "I would love to be your friend." Tony raised his glass. "To friendship then?" "To friendship," Elisabeth replied. "And thank you for taking such good care of Samuel." "Don't thank me, he is a great youth. He has a future in the Navy, you know." "Let us not start this again, please." "Well, what do you want to talk about?" "Your uniform. It's a bad fit, and the seams look like they were done by a three-year-old." "What are you talking? This is my second best coat. It has cost me a small fortune." "Your tailor cheated you. This was made for another person. They probably let out the seams to allow for your long arms, and they made darts in the back because you are slender in the waist. Now the cloth creases in the wrong places." "You mean, it was a used coat?" Tony asked incredulously. "Not necessarily. Probably made for another person who did not pay or did not pick it up. The epaulettes are very good quality, though, and the buttons too. You see, it is an expensive coat, but it was never made for you." Tony laughed bitterly. "I am an easy target for cheaters, I do not care about these matters enough. Can you make it fit better?" Elisabeth shook her head emphatically. "That would make it worse. No, but I can make you a wonderful new coat. You have a perfect figure for uniforms. I'd take the embroidery, the buttons and epaulettes from the old ones, so it's just the cloth." "How long would that take? I have to appear at a reception in London the day after tomorrow. That would be the gala uniform, of course." "Come early tomorrow. Don't forget your old coat. You'll have it tomorrow night. In exchange, you'll let me do all your uniforms in the future." Tony grinned. "I'll be at your shop at seven. But what about Inés? Would you be willing to take her on?" "You don't want to keep her?" "I have no housekeeper. I can't let a girl run my house while I'm away. You said you may need an apprentice, and she has worked in a tailor's shop before." Elisabeth nodded. "Why not, I can use some help. Bring her along tomorrow. There is a sleeping chamber upstairs she can use. She can start tomorrow." "You know that she has some funds, do you?" "No, I didn't." "She received a considerable sum of gold coins and a fine necklace and arm rings from the governor of Cartagena and his wife. I will place the money and the valuables in a bank vault for her. She'll have a nice dowry whenever she chooses to marry." "Samuel received some money, too." "Yes, from the same source. He discovered that there were prisoners in that monastery." "I know, he's told me the story at least thrice," Elisabeth grinned. "If it hadn't been for the money he could show, I would have never believed such an outlandish story." Tony laughed. "Yes, people are strange. And greed is common, even among those who have vowed to dispense with worldly goods." Tony escorted Elisabeth back to Mulberry Street. At her door, Elisabeth quickly gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Good night, and thank you for being so understanding." "Thank you for fixing my coats," Tony grinned back. "I'll be here at seven. Good night, Elisabeth." Tony was relieved when he walked back home. He had worried about hurting the young woman. He liked her, but there was no deep level of understanding like he had shared with Anita, nor the consuming attraction he had felt for Harriet. When he arrived at his home, he called for Inès. She came down from her room flustered and out of breath. Tony grinned. "Have you seen John Little?" he asked innocently. Her deep blush told him what had been going on. Tony decided it was none of his business. "He is upstairs. You want me fetch him?" she asked hopefully. "No Inés, please sit down here." She sat, obviously afraid of what would come. "Don't worry, Inés. Nothing is amiss. I have good news for you. Miss Wilson has agreed to accept you as apprentice in her tailor's shop. Tomorrow, I will bring you to her. She has a room for you, so you can live with her." Inés smiled, obviously relieved. "Miss Wilson is nice woman. I like work for her." "We will also go to a bank tomorrow. You know what a bank is?" "To sit?" she asked dubiously. "No," Tony laughed, "a bank is a place where you can leave your money and gold for safeguarding. The banker guarantees the safety. I want you to put your money and your necklace and rings there. That way, nobody can steal them. And when you marry one day, you will have a dowry." Inés nodded. "But what do I eat when my money is away?" she remembered. "You will have a bed and food with Miss Wilson. And if you need money, you can always go to the bank and get back some money." Inés smiled and nodded. "Is good." With that settled, Tony went up to the second floor and in his bedroom. He shrugged off his coat and breeches. Tomorrow, he would need to find a housekeeper. With this resolution, he slipped underneath the blankets and fell asleep quickly. Years of habit made him wake up at four bells in the morning watch. His brain needed some time to realise the unaccustomed surroundings, but then he threw off the blanket and proceeded to light a lamp. In the dim light of the lamp, he made some effort to wash and shave. It was a rare pleasure to have fresh water for his personal hygiene. Once finished, he clothed and climbed upstairs. He knocked on Inés' door to wake her. He grinned when he heard the whispering from inside. Apparently, she and John Little had made the best of her last night in Tony's house. "Wake up, Inés!" he called. "We need to be ready soon. Don't forget to pack your belongings." He also knocked on the door of John Little's room and, without waiting for an answer, shouted "Rise and shine!". He was busy in the kitchen when Little came down. He was flustered to see his Captain prepare breakfast, but Tony waved away his objections. "I'll try to find a housekeeper today. There's got to be an agency in town. Don't worry, you can do the clean up afterwards." Inés came in, and they shared a frugal breakfast before Tony and the girl left. John Little insisted on carrying his Captain's coats, but Tony suspected he wanted to learn the exact location of Inés's new home. At Elisabeth's house, they were welcomed with freshly brewed tea. Then, Elisabeth took his measurements. She told him to be back in the early afternoon for a fitting and then she ushered the men out, claiming that she was too busy. Accompanied by his coxswain, Tony directed his steps to his attorney's residence. Mr. Hogsbotham was still busy breaking his fast, and so he invited his client to share this important meal with him. Over breakfast, Tony was able to extract some information from the solicitor, and an hour later, he was standing in the office of one Mr. Tolly, the proprietor of an employment agency. He explained his needs to Mr. Tolly and stressed the urgency. Mr. Tolly clucked his teeth in thought and then told Tony that he had a likely candidate for the position of housekeeper. He promised to contact her immediately and have her interview Tony that very afternoon. It would be better to wait with the hiring of other servants until the new housekeeper could help with the selection, Mr. Tolly suggested. Hoping fervently that the man would keep his promises, Tony then turned to the harbour. He went on board the Clyde and in two busy hours finished the necessary paperwork. Mr. Fortescue was a dream come true for a captain. He knew what things to be left for his captain to decide. On the other side, he handled all other tasks with relentless elan. In the eight months as his second in command, Tony had not seen the need for a single word of criticism. Seeing that the refitting of the Clyde was proceeding smoothly, he informed Mr. Fortescue of his trip to London. Clearly, the First Lieutenant enjoyed the prospect of being in command for a few more days. Tony invited him to stay for lunch, and while they ate, they were able to discuss a few more topics, mostly necessary promotions or replacements of crew members. Dr. Turner was retiring from the service, and they needed a replacement. After lunch, Tony dictated a brief letter to the Navy Office asking for the appointment of a new surgeon. It was time to leave for the tailor's shop when he was finished. Elisabeth had been busy, and she let him try on the loosely hefted new coat. Even Tony could notice the different, comfortable fit of the broadcloth uniform. Inés had already been busy scavenging his old gala uniform for epaulettes, buttons and other ornaments, and Elisabeth promised the gala coat to be ready by supper time. Tony thanked her for her efforts and went home. He had barely arrived when the doorbell rang. A petite woman, her black hair in a severe bun, all dressed in black, stared at him when he opened the door. "I am Nadine Blacket," she stated with a noticeable French accent. "Mr. Tolly informed me zat you need a 'ousekeeper." "Yes, indeed," Tony answered quickly. "Why don't you come in?" He led her to the study and asked her to be seated. He noticed that she sat upright and on the edge of the seat. She was obviously nervous. He briefly explained the situation of his household and told her that his old housekeeper had married and would not move to England. At the mentioning of marriage he noticed a brief expression of anguish on her face. He then made the connection between that sign of anguish and her black dress. She must be recently widowed. After giving her some more information, he then asked her about her background. "As you may 'ave noticed, Sir Anthony, I am French, or was French. My fazzer fled France during ze reign of terror, and I grew up in Exeter. My mozzer died early, and as ze eldest daughter, I led my fazzer's 'ousehold. Four years ago, I married John Blacket, a Portsmouz merchant. Zis was against my fazzer's will 'o wanted me to marry one of ze French emigrès, and 'e 'as never spoken to me since. I woz very 'appy wizz my 'usband alzough we remained childless. Zree monz ago, while 'e was working in 'is ware'ouse, my 'usband collapsed and was dead. I 'ave been living off our savings, but I need to work soon. I can't go back to my fazzer." "So you have been a housewife?" She nodded dejectedly. She knew what was coming. Her lack of experience and her being French had been an obstacle in one interview after the other in the last weeks. She was surprised, therefore, to see Tony smiling. "Can you cook?" She nodded, "Of course!" "You know your way with spices, peppers and garlic and such?" "Yes." "Can you start at once?" "As soon as I can move my belongings." Tony made his decision. The thought of French cooking made his mouth water. "I would like you to start at once. Have a look at the house. Stock up the kitchen and the cellar. Get what implements you need to get this household running. There are some crates with china and silverware. I will go to London for a few days tomorrow. That will give you time to move in your own belongings and set things up properly. Is that agreeable to you?" A shy smile appeared on the young widow's face. "Yes, Sir Anthony. Zank you for your trust. But I will need some funds to make ze purchases, and zere is ze question of my salary." "Of course," Tony responded and took out his wallet. He peeled out a number of pound notes. "Here's fifteen pound to cover the initial expenses. As for your salary, would you agree to 12 shillings a week?" "Zat is too a generous an offer, Sir Anthony. I am not really qualified, and once you are at sea, zere is not much work to do." "Then you have to make up for the difference by preparing extra good food for me," Tony smiled. "Let us make a deal. I'll give you 10 shillings a week. At the end of the year, when I am satisfied with your work, you'll get a gratification of five guineas." "Zat would make me feel better, Sir Anthony." "Agreed then. Let me show you the house as best I know." "No need for zat, Sir Anthony. Just show me my quarters and your bedroom, and I shall explore ze rest when zere is time." "Splendid, Mrs. Blacket. If you were to follow me." He quickly showed her his own bedroom and dressing room and then the servant's chambers on the third floor. "Since there is only you, you can use the two large rooms facing the garden. Do you have furniture that you want to keep?" "A few items, yes." "Feel free to put them into your rooms." They went down to the hall. Mrs. Blacket wanted to go to her home to fetch her personal effects, and Tony had her accompanied by John Little. She eyed the tall African with some trepidation, but when he addressed her in his careful English she had to smile. She thanked him nicely for his troubles and they left. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. Nadine Blacket was what he wanted, not some stuffy spinster who would try to govern him, but a nice woman who would make the empty house a home to live in. Taking a piece of paper and a pencil, he walked through the house and made a list of the pictures and pieces of furniture that had to go. The previous owner had, for the most, displayed a good taste. However, there were paintings with pious motifs that Tony could not stomach. And in the bookshelves, there were vast numbers of memoirs from insignificant people, full with self praise and how the Almighty had helped them become rich. These had to go as well. The heavy drapes in the study kept out the light. He would have them removed. Come to think of it, that study, blackened by cigar smoke, needed a fresh coat of wall paint. Tony walked around and planned until his new housekeeper returned. John Little carried a large trunk and a bag, and Mrs. Blacket was loaded with a few more items. Tony gave her time to place her belongings in her rooms. Then he gave her the pencil-written list with the items to be removed, refurbished and remodelled, telling her that these things could be dealt with one after the other. When he had thus given his new housekeeper enough work for the upcoming weeks and months, he discussed with her the need for additional staff. It was agreed that a maid was needed, but Mrs. Blacket insisted that she could do without a manservant. When all the topics had been covered, it was time for Tony to pick up his new gala uniform. When he arrived in Mulberry Street, he found Elisabeth busy applying the finishing touches to the new uniform coat. With a fine brush, she removed chalk marks and loose threads and then bade him over. She helped him into the coat and led him to stand before a large mirror. Even Tony could see the difference to his old coat; the new one made for a far more comfortable fit. "Well, what do you think?" Elisabeth asked. "It's perfect, as far as I can see. More important, it is very comfortable. I always thought a gala uniform had to be tight. Can you make four more coats for everyday use? I could also do with some silk vests and new breeches." Elisabeth grinned, "I'll be happy to make them. When do you need them?" "I'll be in London for at least four or five days. As far as I can see, we will not sail again for at least two weeks." "Consider them done by the time you will weigh anchor," Elisabeth replied. "Thank you. And what do I owe you?" "Four guineas for the cloth and the work. But can we just deduct it from the lease?" "Sure, when you are finished with all the work give me your reckoning. I'll probably end up owing you." "But at least, you'll be properly dressed," Elisabeth laughed. Tony bade his farewell and went back home. Mrs. Blacket had prepared a dinner from the scant contents of his storage. After dinner, Tony went to the Long Rooms, one of the upscale establishments catering to Navy officers. He met a few acquaintances and spent a pleasant evening. The next morning saw him in the express mail coach to London where he arrived in the early afternoon. Sure enough, there was an envelope waiting for him at the Royal George Inn. The promised ticket for this evening's premiere was in it, but also a hand written billet. Dear Anthony, can you manage to visit me at my home before I have to go to the theatre? I shall leave at six o'clock, and I would be happy to entertain you before that. Yours Anita He quickly had his trunk deposited in his room before he walked over to Anita's lodgings. The same maid who had refused him entry four days ago opened the door. This time though, she showed him in and asked him to wait in the living room. While he was waiting, he heard the maid. "I am leaving now, Miss Heyworth. Are you quite sure you won't need me today?" Apparently, Miss Heyworth was sure because Tony heard the door shut and the sound of the maid going downstairs. A few moments later, Anita came into the living room. She was wearing a sheer silk dressing gown and nothing else. Tony rose in time for her to melt into his arms. "Thank you for coming, darling. I felt so bad sending you away. You're not mad at me, are you?" "I was a little disappointed. But it turned out to be of advantage. I was able to hire a housekeeper and get a few other things settled as well during the last days. Now I can really enjoy my stay here." "Apropos, if you were to take off that coat, shirt, breeches and all, you might enjoy your stay even more." Tony raised an eyebrow. "Really? I mean, does that not interfere with your preparations?" "I'm well prepared. I would like to make good for the bad treatment I gave you. I also would just like the reassurance of you making love to me. You don't have to, you know." Tony grinned. "What true man would spurn such an invitation?" He picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. There, he laid her down on her bed. He stood for a moment admiring the woman in her sheer silk gown. Her chestnut coloured hair contrasted beautifully with the silk. She did not wear any make up, she did not need any. Looking at her longingly, Tony took off his coat, opened his stock and shed his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and shucked down his breeches. Anita watched him hungrily as he approached the bed. His excitement was evident, his rampant erection bore witness to over two months of involuntary celibacy. "Come here," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. Tony knelt on the bed, taking her hand, and kissed his way up to her elbow. Then he opened her dressing gown and looked at her naked body. "You are beautiful, Anita," he murmured. He bent over her, resting on his elbows, and began to kiss her exposed chest, slightly grating her erect nipples with his teeth. She drew a sharp breath and took his head in both hands, pulling him up to her face. "I can't wait, Tony, please put it in." He saw the raw desire in her eyes and nodded. Anita lifted her legs on either side of his body and used her hands to guide his rod into her moist opening. She was decidedly ready for his penetration, and Tony pushed into her steadily until he was fully seated and stopped. Anita had closed her eyes during the penetration. She opened them again when she realised that he was seated deep within her. She smiled up at him mischievously and playfully kicked his buttocks with her heels. "Do something!" Tony smiled in response. The level of understanding they shared was uncanny. It seemed like they were made for loving each other. He steadily withdrew his member from her sheath until only the tip remained. He waited, poised, until she made impatient sounds again. Then he sank into her again, eliciting a gasp from her. He withdrew again, but this time he felt her opening caress the tip of his penis. Very carefully she rotated her hips to tease the sensitive head with her lower lips. The feeling was incredible, and Anita seemed to relish it as well since she had her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her lips. When the sensation became too hard to resist, Tony plunged into her again in a single stroke. This time, a cry rose from her throat. Anita wrapped her slender legs around his hips, effectively preventing him from withdrawing his member. She lay there, gasping and with closed eyes, and he could feel the walls of her sex contracting around him. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and looked up to him happily. "Go on," she smiled, having just experienced a minor peak of lust. At that moment, Tony realised that this was secret of her attraction: she truly enjoyed the sex and had no problems showing it. While other women might be hesitant to show their lust, be it for manipulative reasons, be it out of shame or self-consciousness, Anita let her lover know how much she enjoyed him without any coyness. He smiled down at her and she grinned back. With long, steady strokes, Tony resumed the love-making. He took pains to move slowly, an inch at a time on the outward journey, but with a rapid thrust on the inward motion. The controlled movement served to help his own lust in check. This was special and he wanted to enjoy it. The intense feeling of her pulsing love canal, however, brought him closer and closer to his own fulfilment. Anita, too, became impatient now and urged him on, both verbally and with the heels of her feet which she dug into his back, to encourage him. They were both building up rapidly, and Tony felt that he could not control himself any longer. With a hoarse cry, he plunged deeply into Anita, and, deeply embedded in her womb, he released spurt after spurt of semen. Anita felt the pulsing of his member deep inside her, and that triggered her own second release. They both held on to each other frantically while they cried out their lust until the waves ebbed away. Anita held on to him with her arms and legs and rocked him gently until he regained his breath. Lifting his body, he gently extracted his spent penis from her sex and lay down beside her. Anita turned to face him, and they spent the next minutes caressing each other's body. Anita held her eyes closed while her fingertips brushed over his chest. Tony regarded the peaceful face before him. "Anita," he began gently, "you do know that I care for you very much, don't you?" Anita opened her eyes and beamed a smile at him. "I care for you, too. More, in fact, than advisable." "What do you mean by that?" "You make me feel all warm and happy, and I begin to forget all my good resolutions." Tony laughed. "I'm glad you forgot any resolutions. But what resolutions did you make?" "Not to fall in love, for instance." "Would that be such a bad thing?" "Yes." Anita sat up. "Tony, I cannot afford to fall in love. I can't see myself as a housewife, passing biscuits and tea. Being an actress is such a thrill, I don't think I could live without it." "Is your acting really that important to you?" Tony asked, somewhat baffled. "Wait until you see me tonight! It is my life. What is it, Tony? You look like I said something nasty." "Anita, I felt like our relationship was moving in the direction of..." "Marriage?" Tony looked at her defiantly. "Yes. Is that such a bad idea? Don't you feel for me?" "Don't be mad at me, Tony. I love to be your lover, I really do, but I cannot be more. I certainly cannot be Lady Carter. I would never be accepted as such. I would always be the actress of dubious background who married above her station. Cannot we just continue our affair?" "But don't you feel the accord between us?" "You mean in bed?" she smiled. "Yes, in bed. But also when we just sit and talk. There is so much between us. Why not give it a chance to develop into something beautiful." Anita stared at him. "You have a way with words, you certainly do. Listen, we can't decide this today and we certainly shouldn't. Do you really mean this?" "Anita, what I feel for you, I have only felt once before. I was as ready to commit myself then as I'm ready to commit myself now." "What happened to the woman?" "She married somebody else, didn't even explain herself to me. But you would never do that." "Of course not. I haven't even thought about marrying after Roland fell. But right now, I must get ready. I promise to give it some thought, but I need to dress now. Will you stay the night with me after the premiere and the receptions?" "If you want me to." She grabbed his head, impatiently, and kissed him hard. "Of course, I want you to. I really care for you. I am just not yet prepared to marry a man. We have only met three times in our lives. But I love to be with you. And I want to spend an uninterrupted night with you." "It's all right, Anita, I shouldn't have pressed the issue at our third date. I wouldn't have brought it up anyway so early. I will give you all the time you need to make up your mind. And I will love to stay with you." "Thank you. I have to get ready now. Sally will be back any minute." She jumped out of the bed and pulled Tony after her. When he stood, she pressed her naked form against him once more and kissed him. "Be patient with me," she whispered, "I still can't believe how far I have gone with you already." "You better get ready," Tony whispered back. "How did you plan the evening?" Anita put on her dressing gown and began to comb her hair while Tony picked up his clothes and began to dress. "You enjoy the play. After the curtain, come back to the dressing rooms. I'll leave orders to let you pass. I will change into another dress, and then we shall walk the short distance to Lord Brougham's mansion. We have to stay at the reception for two or three hours. You'll meet my two best friends there, too. Harriet Palmer and Lucy Gutteridge. The poor Harriet is married to the ghastly son of Lord Brougham. She is terribly unhappy, but you'll find her a very nice woman." Anita had spoken without looking at him. Only after that last sentence she saw the effect her words had had on him. "What is it, Tony, you look completely dazed?" "Nothing, nothing, it's just something I have to get over, dear," he answered with a forced smile. For Tony, the prospect of that evening reception suddenly soured. Well, hopefully, it would be a big reception. Perhaps, he could even avoid Harriet. "I better leave now, Anita, I have to dress properly, too." "Will I see you?" Anita asked, worried. "Of course, darling," he answered reassuringly and kissed her once more. While he walked briskly back to the Royal George, he chided himself for blurting out his intentions towards Anita. It was a stupid thing to do, he told himself, worthy of an adolescent but not of a grown man. He did not treat the women in his life with enough attention. Maria had told him to pay attention instead of just presuming that women wanted the same as men. Obviously, Anita wanted a friend and occasional lover. Could he blame her? Had he not treated Rose in a similar way? Had there been anything in Harriet's demeanour that indicated that she did not want him for a husband? Had he missed signals there? No, she had been eager, too. But today, he would have to see her and her fat husband and pretend to be indifferent. That would be tough; he had no illusions about it. She was Anita's friend, her best friend even, as she had said. Who would Anita decide for when she had to choose between her best friend and her paramour? His thoughts were a veritable maelstrom when he reached his lodgings. He had to hurry though to be ready in time for the play. He had not eaten since the early morning, he suddenly noticed. He therefore rang the bell and when the landlord showed, he asked for a plate of ham and cheese and a light white wine. However, when the food arrived, he found that his appetite was not that strong. More out of reasoning than out of appetite, he managed to eat some bread with slices of smoked ham. The cheese was washed down with one glass of wine, but he drank a whole pitcher of water to slack his thirst. After shaving carefully, he combed out his blond hair and bound it in a fresh queue. Then he dressed with equal care in fresh white breeches, shoes with solid gold buckles, a white vest of silk over a fresh shirt, and, lastly, in his brand-new coat. After putting on his hat, he studied the image in a large mirror. He looked every inch the successful Navy captain. Then he cursed his own forgetfulness. Hastily, he scrambled through his belongings and produced the sash and star that proclaimed him to be a Companion of the Bath. With the regalia of his order and his magnificent Toledo sword in place, he studied himself again in the mirror and decided he was ready to go. A rented cab brought him to the Drury Lane Theatre. He showed his ticket to the liveried attendant and a footman showed him the way to a private box on the second level. There, a gentleman of middle age with magnificent whiskers and a stately woman were already seated. The gentleman rose to introduce his lady and himself. "Sir Anthony Carter? I am Sir Robert Norton, and this is my wife, Lady Emily Norton." The title with her first name signified that his wife was the daughter of a Peer of England, otherwise she would have been simply Lady Norton. Tony bowed to the lady and shook the hand of the man whom he knew to be one of London's biggest merchants. The man had a large interest in the East India Company, but also in the West Indian sugar trade. "I trust you will be comfortable with us, Sir Anthony? Anita asked us and we were of course delighted to have one of our naval heroes as our guest." "This is exceedingly kind of you, Sir Robert. Do you happen to be friends of Miss Heyworth?" "Yes indeed, we both love the girl," Lady Emily joined in. "She is such a nice person, never involved in scandalous affairs like so many of her colleagues. And how do you know her?" "Oh, we happened to meet by chance. I was able to assist her in situation of need, and we had dinner afterwards. I did not know who and what she was, seeing that I had just come to London for the second time. But we kept writing letters to each other, and she invited me to be her companion for this night. I suppose there is no mortal man who would refuse." He answered lightly, careful not to tarnish Anita's reputation. He could not really tell his hosts that he had saved Anita from an irate wife's wrath. "Miss Heyworth told us that you are from Kingston?" "Yes, indeed. My father was the master-owner of a merchantman, and that's what I would have become, too. But our ship foundered in a hurricane, taking the life of my father and most of the crew. After that, I joined the Royal Navy." "But you must know good shipping companies in Jamaica, Sir Anthony? Maybe you can give me an unbiased recommendation since I try to find new partners for my trade with Kingston." "I can recommend Whitney & Cie, but that is not an unbiased recommendation. I own interest in that company," Tony laughed. "How come? I thought you were left a poor orphan?" "Orphan, but not poor. My father had insured his schooner, and he also owned interest in Mr. Whitney's ship. When Mr. Whitney expanded, I expanded my stake as well." "That's very interesting, Sir Anthony. Perhaps we can meet in the next days and discuss some business." "Of course. I'm not a managing partner, but I will certainly help to set up the contact with Mr. Whitney's agent." The men were interrupted by the entry of a younger woman. She had a very pretty face and bore a strong resemblance to Lady Emily. Sir Robert and Tony rose. "May I introduce? My daughter, Mrs. Gwendolyn Archer, our guest, Sir Anthony Carter." Tony bowed again. "My daughter has just finished her year of mourning after the untimely death of her husband," Lady Emily felt the need to explain. "Now the poor lamb has to take care of her late husband's business; it is a big business and a lot of work for a poor woman." Tony smelled a rat. Gwendolyn Archer had not come by chance. He had to be careful. But his worries were unfounded. "Mother, stop it!" Mrs. Archer said firmly. "I like running our business, and Sir Anthony came here to watch the play." "Nevertheless, I can appreciate your presence, Madam," Tony smiled. Mrs. Archer smiled back, a woman well aware of her attractiveness. Just then, the orchestra began to play a short introductory piece, and the audience fell silent. When the curtain opened, a polite applause greeted the actors, and the play began. Tony had seen it before as a boy, performed by a wandering French troupe in Martinique where the Anne Marie had done business before the war. He was curious about the English adaptation. After the first scenes, he decided that the adaptation was expertly done and that the cast of the Drury Lane Theatre far surpassed the talent of the small travelling French theatre company. He became engulfed with the plot and positively enraptured with Anita's performance. She had a rare presence on the stage; whenever she appeared, the other actors became mere staffage. There was no Anita Heyworth; Elmire, wife of Tartuffe, stood on the stage. When the play ended, there was a tumultuous applause. The actors had three curtains and the cast beamed at the audience. To Tony, the view of Anita on the stage, waving into the crowd, positively bursting with pride over her achievement and enjoying the applause, was an eye opener. He had been selfish and stupid. This woman belonged on a stage where she could touch and brighten the lives of so many people. To marry her would be like taking a priceless piece of art and hiding it in a closet, depriving humanity of a treasure. He was getting carried away with emotion and he felt in awe with Anita. It would be difficult for him to deal with her in the future, he feared. He was glad that he had not seen her on stage before they met. He would have never been able to be his natural self in her presence. In a clairvoyant moment, he realised that this was why Anita felt attracted to him, because he behaved normally around her. When the curtain had closed for the last time, Tony thanked Sir Robert and his family for the hospitality and made his way to the dressing rooms. There was a throng of men waiting outside, and their way was barred by the manager of the theatre. Tony decided to wait in the background. When, ten minutes later, Anita emerged from her dressing room, a mad struggle ensued with everyone trying to get her attention. Anita looked around for Tony. Fortunately, he was a tall man and stood out from the crowd. She waved at him, and he made his way through the crowd. Offering her his arm, he led her through the crowded antechamber with many a man eying him with envy. They did not talk before they were in the coach. When the coach started and they were out of earshot, both breathed a sigh of relief. In the dark coach, Anita looked intently at Tony. "So, how did you like it?" Tony could not help but hear an anxious undertone. "Anita, today was a rare experience for me. You were breathtaking." There was relief in Anita's voice. "You think so?" "Anita, I am in awe of you, I am. I think, if I had seen you on stage before, I would have never had the courage to talk to you." "And what a pity that would have been," Anita laughed. Tony laughed self-consciously. "You know, I learned another thing this evening." "And what might that be," Anita asked in a light tone. "Do we have some time? I would like to start with a short tale first so you will understand better." "Yes, tell me." "You have to know that my mother was a Danish woman, from the island of St. Thomas. She died when I was 8 years old, but when I was younger, she would always tell me Danish fairy tales at bed time. "One of my favourites she called "The Nightingale". It is about the Danish King. He was an unhappy man, although nobody knew the reason. Once, he was out hunting, but his heart was not in it, and he sat down under a tree in heavy brooding. "All of a sudden, a nightingale sang its song on the tree. Listening to the song, his mood changed. He looked up the tree and saw the bird. Calling his hunters, he made them catch the nightingale. "It was put in a golden cage in his castle, and the king would sit and listen to its song. The nightingale, though, was unhappy in that cage and sang less and less. The king could not help but notice how miserable his pet bird had become, and so, one evening, he opened the cage and let the bird escape. The nightingale, however, built a nest in the garden of the castle, and the king would simply sit in his garden, along with whoever cared to join him, and listen to the songs she once again sang." "That's a nice fairy tale, Tony, but what is your point?" "The point, Anita, is that you are the nightingale and I am the king. I am trying to put you in a golden cage while, by rights, you should be out on a tree bringing happiness to all the people. I see now that you belong on the theatre stage. You would be miserable without the applause and attention from the audience. And if you became miserable, you would not be the woman I cherish so much. All I want to say in my pompous way is that I shall be happy to remain your paramour for as long as it lasts." "Tony, I have heard many a compliment, some even in elaborate rhyme. But this was the most beautiful compliment I ever received. Thank you for making me happy tonight!" She kissed him fervently, with an intensity born both of emotion and relief. When the coach lurched to a stop, they separated. Tony climbed from the coach, and offered his hand to Anita. She alighted, and they both ascended the stairs of a large, palatial mansion. Liveried servants took their cloaks, as well as Tony's sword and hat. Another, higher ranking servant, led them to the second floor and to a large door. The door opened, and the butler announced: "Sir Anthony Carter," - dramatic pause - "Miss Anita Heyworth!" Everybody in the room turned and applauded. Anita bowed to either side of the room and received felicitations from dozens of men and women. She kept looking for her friends, though, and when she saw them in the back, she excused herself to the people around her and dragged Tony over to where a dumbstruck Harriet was standing. 'She is thin, ' was what Tony thought when he saw Harriet. He saw agony in her eyes where he had expected arrogance and defiance. This threw him off, and when Anita introduced him, his prepared sentences were forgotten. "Always delighted to see you, Mrs Palmer. I trust, your husband is faring well?" That was what came from his mouth and it was a stupid line. He knew it the moment he had said it. He saw pain in Harriet's eyes, saw her feeble attempt to reply. Then her eyes rolled back and she crumbled in a heap at their feet. In a second, several women descended on Harriet's lifeless form, and they whisked her away into an adjoining room. Anita excused herself to the bystanders, pressed Tony's hand briefly, and followed. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 10: Harriet London, August 1804 Harriet Palmer felt weary and worn out. She had been standing for more than an hour, greeting the guests who had come to congratulate her on her first wedding anniversary. Even more demanding had been the task of keeping the false smile pasted on her face, a challenge, whenever she had to look at her husband. The feelings she had then, hatred and loathing, threatened to overwhelm her. Saying meaningless pleasantries to people she barely knew, her thoughts drifted back to those happy months. She had declared her love for Anthony Carter, and the future had held the promise of happiness for her. Why did she have to go to that summer night party? It was on her aunt's country seat near Maidstone, and Harriet had planned to stay over night. The party was dull to begin with, and then she found herself the target of the incessant attempts of a distant cousin, Rupert Palmer. She retired early, and she fell asleep despite the noise of the ongoing party. She woke up with a violent start. Somebody had clamped his hand over her mouth! She felt the heavy weight of a body pinning her down while another hand ripped at her nightshirt. She fought against the intruder, tried to get her teeth at the hand that covered her mouth. But the battle was futile. The attacker had already placed himself between her legs before she woke up, and her nightshirt was up around her waist. When something hard and wet touched her nether lips, she renewed her struggle and got her mouth free. With all her power, she bit down on the hand, tasting blood. She heard her attacker curse and suddenly, in the pale moonlight that filtered through the drawn curtains, she recognised Rupert Palmer. Then, his other hand punched her face, and she nearly blacked out. She screamed against the hand again when she felt a ripping pain. Her attacker forced his penis into her dry opening without remorse and began to rut into her. Although he did not take long, for Harriet it seemed like an endless nightmare. When he got off with a grunt, he rolled off her and slapped her face hard, making her brain swim. Without a word, he left the room. It took Harriet a while to regain her senses. She wanted to cry, but she felt dried up. She wanted to get up and wash off the residue left on her body by the rapist, but she felt paralysed. Almost an hour later, she began to shiver from the cold and woke from her stupor. Looking down at her own body she felt repulsed. Frantically, she rushed from her bed to the wash stand, lit a candle, and in the dim light, she scrubbed the front of her body with a wash cloth until she was nearly raw. She tore off the blood stained nightshirt and dressed. Quietly, she went to the servants' quarters and roused her maid, telling her to get up and wake the driver. In the middle of the night, they left her aunt's house and headed back to London. It was very early in the morning when the coach arrived at Cavendish Square, and the servants were alarmed when she rushed into the house. Awakened by the noise, Lady Lambert came to look for the reason of the tumult. As soon as she saw her daughter, she knew something horrible had happened to her. Comforting the sobbing Harriet, she led her to her own bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing before Lady Lambert got the whole story out of her daughter. By this time, she was boiling with rage. She was a prudent woman, too. She knew full well that nothing would happen to Rupert Palmer if they charged him with rape. He would claim that Harriet had seduced him, and the laugh would be on her daughter. Sir Richard was not due to return from the Baltic Sea before another month, and nothing could be done before that. She hoped fervently that Anthony Carter would be understanding enough not to drop Harriet because of this. Maybe, things could be righted, yet. But she had no doubt that either her husband or Anthony Carter would challenge Rupert Palmer to a duel and kill him. This would create a scandal, but it was the only way to put things right. Nevertheless, she called the family doctor, swore him to secrecy, and had him examine the wounds and bruises Harriet had suffered. It was a month later when things went from bad to worse. Harriet stood before her mother in the study with a face of stone. "I am with child, mother." Lady Lambert did not know what to say. Finally, she uttered the time honoured response. "Are you sure?" Harriet nodded. "I missed my curse, and I feel sick in the mornings. The swine has made me pregnant." "Oh dear, what can we do?" "Give me a pistol, mother, and I will go over to his house. He will pay, even if they hang me for it." Finally, Lady Lambert regained the presence of mind, and she took her daughter into her arms. Talking to her soothingly, she persuaded her to lie down. She still did not know what to do. Fortunately, two days later, Sir Richard returned to London. When he entered his house, he sensed the atmosphere of despair immediately. In a few sentences, Lady Lambert told her husband what had happened to his daughter. She had never had reason to fear her husband as he was always soft spoken and gentle. But the man standing before her transformed into a stranger. With icy determination, buckled his sword belt, and left the house without a single word. The coach carried him to Lord Brougham's home. He rapped the door and asked for Rupert Palmer. He was informed by the footman that the Honourable Rupert Palmer had not returned yet. Yes, His Lordship would see him. Sir Richard was shown in, and Lord Brougham rose to greet a fellow officer he had known for many years. Sir Richard did not shake the proffered hand. "Reginald, this is not a friendly call. I came to challenge your son Rupert. He has offended my family and my honour in the foulest way. Please be so kind as to tell him to send me his seconds." His Lordship was beside himself. His old friend, Sir Richard, was trembling with rage, and he knew that his son was in mortal danger. "Richard, for God's sake, what has happened? What did he do? For our friendship's sake, speak, man!" Sir Richard told him, and now his Lordship was wringing his hands in mortal embarrassment. Finally, when Sir Richard had finished, Lord Brougham found his voice. "My god, the poor girl!" he said brokenly. He knew his son was perfectly capable of such a deed. In fact, His Lordship had been compelled to settle two similar affairs with rather large sums of money. But now, Rupert had overstepped the limits of fatherly love. "Richard, let me try to make this right. Rupert will marry your daughter. She will be Lady Brougham when I'm dead. If he refuses, I will kill him with my own hands, I promise." "Do you really expect my daughter to marry this scoundrel?" "The poor girl is with child, Richard. No matter what we do, she will be shunned. Think of it! She is a good girl. Don't ruin her life and mine, please!" After some more coaxing, Sir Richard relented. The wedding was set to take place three weeks later, and both Harriet and her future husband were presented with a fait accompli. It took Lady Lambert and her husband almost the entire three weeks to convince Harriet of the necessity to go through with the wedding. She threatened to kill her groom right in the chapel, but finally the pressure from all sides made her relent. She would never forget the first private words her husband said to her in the coach after the wedding. "Well, you've got your will, you scheming little bitch. But you'll regret this. You're my wife now, and I'll make you pay for this!" Stunned, Harriet had replied, "Do you honestly believe that I married you out of free will? Are you utterly out of your wits? I wanted my father to kill you, and it will not take much to make me kill you myself." "Stupid wench, I'll teach you!" He tried to hit her with a backhand slap, but Harriet was awake and prepared. With her left hand, she quickly held up one of the long needles that she used to fix her hair. The needle went right through Rupert's hand. He screamed in shock. Seeing his own blood, he began to shiver and sweat. With a malicious gleam in her eyes, Harriet saw that the sight of his blood reduced her husband to jelly. "Oh dear, what a hero you are! Listen and listen well: I shall use this needle on your eyes if ever you should try to touch me again." She looked up. "We have arrived. Try to pretend that you are a man!" For the next weeks, her new husband avoided Harriet as best he could, and she settled into a life without love. The house was Lord Brougham's, and so were the servants, and their loyalty was with the heir to the title. She had brought her own maid, however, and the young woman, Anne by name, was her sole support in the evenings. She spent most days at her mother's, but in the evenings, she sat alone in her boudoir. It was one evening, almost two months after the wedding, when Rupert Palmer returned drunk and in an exceedingly bad mood. Harriet suspected that he had been ripped off at the card tables again. He was a horrible card player, with no memory at all, and all he managed to play was vingt et un. He always lost. Thus, Harriet retired to her room to avoid him. All of a sudden, however, she heard her maid scream in horror from her room upstairs. Without thinking, Harriet rushed from her room and upstairs, only to find her husband in the process of forcing the struggling maid's legs open. "Let go of her, Rupert, you swine!" she snarled at her husband. With surprising agility, Rupert let go of the girl and turned. Before Harriet could react, he hit her twice in the face and then delivered a brutal blow to her abdomen. The air went out of Harriet's lungs and she crumpled to the floor. She did not faint, but she saw how her maid swung a long-handled coal pan and hit Rupert just behind his right ear. The glowing coals burnt his skin and he screamed before he went down, but neither Harriet nor her maid paid him any attention. "Oh dear God, Mrs. Palmer," the maid cried, pointing between Harriet's legs. Her nightshirt was dark with blood. Several servants had assembled, and the maid sent them to fetch the doctor and to alert Lady Lambert. Others helped to bring Harriet into her own room and to bed. When the doctor arrived, he could only pronounce what everybody knew already: Harriet had lost her child. A little later, Lord and Lady Brougham arrived, alarmed by the butler. The old man looked at his son with open disgust. Rupert had come to again. His head hurt, and the burns from the coals were painful. Just when he started to complain, he was cut short by his father. "Shut up, you worthless rascal!" the old admiral thundered. "You have just killed my first grandchild! But for Harriet, I would disinherit you, and if you touch her just one more time, I'll still do it! Do you understand that?" Rupert could only nod; he was utterly confounded. His father had always backed him. He started to get up, to follow his father, when the hilt of a sword hit him hard in the abdomen. He dropped back into the chair he had been sitting in, wheezing and moaning. A gleaming blade came into his vision, and the tip pricked his throat. Rupert froze. "This was the second time that you hurt my daughter," he heard Sir Richard Lambert's snarl. "If that happens one more time, I'll cut you open and feed your bollocks to my dogs. This is my promise, and I have never broken my word." The blade moved quickly, and Rupert screamed in terror and pain. The sword had carved a gaping slit into his throat. "This may help to remind you," Sir Richard stated grimly. Coolly, he wiped his blade on Rupert's shirt and stalked from the room. From that day on, Harriet made it a rule never to be alone with her husband. They lived parallel lives. When Andrew Lambert returned to England in the Medusa and Lucy Gutteridge came to live with Harriet, she finally found somebody to talk to. She never told her the whole story, but young Lucy had gone through a rough schooling, and she guessed what was left unsaid. They watched over each other, and that gave Harriet a modicum of comfort. She even managed to smile when she heard Lucy voice her admiration and love for Andrew. But then, inevitably, the conversation would turn to Anthony, and Harriet would fall into gloom again. Sensing that, Lucy began to avoid the subject altogether, and Harriet loved her new friend for this. When Medusa engaged and conquered the Loire, and the papers were full of praise for Captain Carter, Harriet fell into despair again. But for her foul husband, she would be married to that hero by now. More importantly, she would be married to a man she really loved. If anything, the realisation that she had lost him made her love all the more overpowering. When she saw the news that he was knighted, she clipped the article from the newspaper to keep it. She also clipped the paragraph from the Naval Gazette which reported his posting to the former French frigate, now renamed HMS Clyde. Her obsession with Anthony Carter began to worry herself, and she felt some temporary relief when she read in the Gazette that HMS Clyde, 44, Capt. Carter, had sailed for the West Indies. And now, her first wedding anniversary had arrived and her father in law had arranged this reception. He was a kind man, and he meant well, but how could he think that she found anything to celebrate about this date? She even had a vicious argument with Rupert about this. When she told him to go to hell, he had, in a fit of rage, slapped her face again. Quick as lightning, Lucy had stepped between them and had kneed him viciously in the groin. The way he walked, he must still be in pain, Harriet thought grimly. She had a bruise on her cheek, however, and she knew the makeup would not cover it for long. Just then, another visitor was announced, and Harriet felt some true excitement for a change. "Miss Anita Heyworth!" the butler announced, and the room went almost silent. Lord Brougham rushed forward to greet the new guest, and he introduced her to Harriet. Harriet knew that her father in law held a rather large interest in the Drury Lane Theatre, but she was delighted to make the acquaintance of the popular actress. Anita Heyworth smiled at her, but the smile froze when she looked at Harriet's face. Regaining her composure, she resumed her friendly smile. "I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Palmer. Why, Rupert," she addressed him, "you do have a beautiful wife! You have no business sneaking around my wardrobe." Rupert was clearly uncomfortable. "I was only trying to invite you to a dinner. But you always brush me off. You shouldn't. You know that my father practically owns the theatre." Anita laughed at that. "I do know that, Rupert. That is why I dine frequently with him and your mother. They are very nice people. It is hard to believe, but they insist that you are their true son." She had spoken normally, but her trained voice carried, and many people laughed at Rupert who suddenly remembered that he had to greet more guests. Anita put her hand on Harriet's arm. "My dear, could you show me to the powder room?" "Certainly," Harriet responded. She liked the young actress, but she was not prepared for the next words when they had reached the powder room. "Does he hit you often, dear?" Anita enquired. When Harriet stood stock still, she gave a short and bitter laugh. "If you want to cover for him, you have to do a better job with your make up." Harriet found her voice. "He did, but only a few times. This time was the first in almost three months, but he paid for it." "I noticed his walk. Did you hit him in the bollocks?" In spite of herself, Harriet giggled. She had never heard the word bollocks before, but she could guess the meaning. "No, my friend Lucy did. I kicked his ribs, though, when he was curled up on the floor." "Does your family know about this, dear?" "My father has promised to kill him if he hurts me again, but he can't always watch over me." Anita turned to Harriet and hugged her. "Listen, dear, I like you. Don't ask me why, but I do. If you ever need help, come to me." Harriet nodded. "Thank you, Miss Heyworth. May I tell you that I admire your acting?" "Yes, you may, dear," Anita beamed. She liked flattery, Harriet noticed. "Now, let us go back. Walk tall," she admonished Harriet, "you have nothing to be ashamed of." When they emerged from the powder room, Rupert saw them and frowned. Suddenly, Harriet found the strength to stare him down. After a few second's test of will, he looked away sheepishly. Anita pressed Harriet's arm. "See, you are stronger!" she whispered. The rest of the evening was easier for Harriet. She was able to engage in small talk with her guests. Whenever she saw her husband, she stared him down with a scornful glare. She had never known that she held such power in her look, and she took a malicious delight in practising this newly found skill on her hateful husband. Rupert resolved to do what he always did when faced with a conflict, he got stone drunk. That evening was a turning point, and over the next months, Harriet began to rebuild something akin to a social life. She frequently visited Anita Heyworth, or she met with her at the houses of common friends. Lucy accompanied her, too, and soon a bond of friendship developed between the three women. Later in the year, Anita became preoccupied. They were readying a new piece at the Drury Lane Theatre. Somebody had translated a witty play by the French playwright Moliere into English, and Anita had secured the female lead. She was quite excited. When finally the premiere night drew nearer, Anita invited her friends to her private box and to the reception following the premiere. Both Harriet and Lucy were excited and spent days in preparation. The day before the premiere, the three women met for tea. Anita was positively beaming. "What is it with you today?" Harriet asked. "You look like you are bursting with good news." Anita smiled and Harriet could swear that she was blushing. "You remember the man I told you about? He is back in England. He will be here for the premiere." "The dashing officer?" Harriet asked jokingly, "You mean, he is real? Can we see him?" Anita swatted Harriet's arm with her fan. "Of course he is real, and of course you will meet him." Lucy and Harriet grilled Anita through the entire tea hour, but she would not say the name. When they were about to leave, Anita grabbed Harriet's arm. "Please be there tomorrow. I am afraid." "Don't worry, dear. You'll do fine. You'll see, the audience will ask for at least five encores." "Not that, Harriet. What if he does not show? I have only met him once. What if he has better things to do?" Harriet was astounded. Her friend, always so self assured, was human after all. "If he does not show, we'll hunt him down, tie him up with my husband, and drop them both in the River Thames." Anita smiled and kissed Harriet's cheek. "You're sweet." The next evening began wonderful for Harriet. She sat with Lucy in a private box. Rupert had excused himself; his admiration for Anita Heyworth had wilted away when he became aware of her friendship with his wife. Anita was stunning. By the end of the second act, people were giving standing ovations already. Harriet was proud of her friend. She looked around, ready to take on anyone who did not applaud, when she saw him. He was standing in a box with an older couple, in his full parade uniform, with his sash and star. His face was tanned like mahogany wood, contrasting with his bleached hair. The sight of him cut through her heart with a searing pain, and she had to sit down. She was trembling from head to toe. "What is it, Harriet?" Lucy asked her in a frightened voice. "He's over there." "Who?" "Tony Carter," came Harriet's morose reply. "Let's hope that he will not see me. I would hate to ruin the evening for him." For the rest of the evening, Harriet hid in the shadows of the box. At her urging, they left before the last curtain fell. When they went to the reception, Harriet regained some composure. She even managed to share in the excitement of the wonderful premiere, and she looked forward to the arrival of Anita. Finally, the actress was announced, and everybody stood to cheer her arrival. The beaming actress strode into the room at the arm of a tall Navy captain. Harriet stood rooted to the spot. Lot's wife would have appeared agitated, by comparison. Her mind worked restlessly, though, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then a smiling Anita stood before her. "Harriet, my dear, please meet Captain Sir Anthony Carter! Tony, this is my dear friend Harriet Palmer." Tony swallowed hard, obviously challenged to manage a polite reply. "Always delighted to see you, Mrs Palmer. I trust, your husband is faring well?" His words stung her terribly. She heard the scorn and disdain in his voice. Trying to find words, she desperately fought for air. Her tight whale bone stays, however, effectively suffocated her, and for the first time in her life, she fainted. A surprised outcry of the people around her followed. Anita cast a questioning glance at Tony before she quickly knelt beside her friend. With the help of several people, Harriet was carried to another room. Anita briefly talked to her assembled admirers and asked to be excused for a few minutes. She hurried to the anteroom where Lucy had already opened Harriet's stays. She was still unconscious, though. "What happened to her, Lucy?" "Oh Anita, didn't you know?" "Know what?" "Captain Carter is Harriet's lost love!" "What?" Anita blanched. "Are you sure of that?" "Didn't you see? When she saw him at the theatre, it almost made her faint. To see him as your, well, companion, was too much. She loves you, but she's still madly in love with him." "Oh my god! Why were they separated? How come she married that worthless Rupert Palmer?" "She was promised to Captain Carter. They had loved each other for years. She was at her aunt's house when Rupert broke into her room and raped her. On top of that, she became pregnant. Harriet's father went to Lord Brougham's house to challenge and kill Rupert, but old Lord Brougham reached a compromise. They had to marry. Shortly after the wedding he beat her up again, and she lost her child." Anita's tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her eyes were dark with barely suppressed rage. "The dirty rotten bastard!" she exclaimed. "Amen," Lucy replied. "Look, she's awake!" Indeed, Harriet had opened her eyes. When she saw Anita, she began to weep. "I'm so sorry, Anita, I did not mean to mess up your evening. Please forgive me!" "Sssh! Not a word, darling. Lucy has told me everything. I'm so sorry. I really had no idea." "Please, Anita, go back to the reception." Harriet swallowed. "And go back to Tony. He is a wonderful man. Make him happy. He deserves a woman like you." Anita got up. "Are you sure that you will be all right?" Harriet nodded, fighting back the tears that still lurked just under the surface. "Harriet. I don't know how yet, but I will make things right for you. Your worthless husband has enjoyed impunity for too long." "What do you plan to do?" "I have no idea yet, darling. But I'll give it some thought, trust me." With that, Anita was up and left the room. ------- When the women had whisked Harriet into a bedroom, the room was buzzing with excited whisper. Several people approached Tony, wanting to know what had occasioned Mrs. Palmer's faint spell. Tony remained neutral in his answers, indicating that the air in a crowded room might have occasioned it, nothing unusual by any means. As soon as possible, he retreated in the milling mass of visitors. Fortunately, Sir Robert was there and involved him in a discussion of the relative merits of the Whitney & Cie shipping company. While Tony maintained his ignorance of the operative part of the business, he was still able to provide Sir Robert with the names and addresses of other big clients who could give references. It was then that Anita re-emerged, and soon the party resumed its normal pace. On the point two hours after their arrival, Anita began to thank their hosts and said her farewell to a number of acquaintances while Tony made as unobtrusive an exit as he could manage. They met in the hall where they received their cloaks, as well as Tony's hat and sword. In their rented cab, they rode back to Anita's home. She was silent and brooding during the ride, and Tony was sure that something had disturbed her greatly. "Anita, do you still want me to stay with you tonight?" he interrupted her train of thought. Anita put her hand on his arm reassuringly. "More than ever, Tony," she answered. "What is it, dear? You look like you heard very bad news. Is everything all right with Harriet Palmer?" "You should have told me about Harriet, Tony," she admonished softly. Tony sighed. "I did not want to burden you with the problem of deciding between us. I thought I was over her. I am not so sure now. Also, I'm afraid she has a problem with me. Bad conscience, I suppose." "Bad conscience?" Anita all but screamed. Tony looked at her, bewildered. "Anita, look: we promised to each other. She knew beforehand that I would be gone for more than a year. I returned to London, ready to make a formal engagement, and all I received was a letter from her mother informing me that Harriet had elected to marry Rupert Palmer not six months after I left. If the situation were reversed, I would have a bad conscience, indeed." Anita shook her head sadly. "Tony, do you trust me?" "Of course," he answered without hesitation. "Then listen to me. Harriet is as innocent of the situation as you are. It is not for me to tell you the full truth, in fact, it could prove fatal if I did. But I assure you that nobody suffered more than Harriet herself." "How can you say that?" "I can say that because I know that you were happy in my arms, at least twice in that year. Perhaps you had another affair, it's the way men are, after all. You had your ship and your duty. Harriet did not have any of these comforts; all she has is her friendship with me and with Lucy." "Why then, did she marry this Palmer character?" There was an edge in Tony's voice that made Anita start. She had known him as a gentle and polite man, considerate and reasonable. Now she saw that the hand that gripped his sword hilt was white. "Again, dear, this is not for me to relate. But trust me, things will resolve if I can help it." Now it was Tony's turn to be amazed at the grim determination in her voice. "You must understand, Anita, that it is very hard for me to accept what you said without some more information. I begin to see certain explanations, but none of them really explains what you said. Tell me one more thing: did Harriet enter into the relationship with Palmer out of her free will?" The question made Anita squirm. If she said no, Tony would seek out Palmer. If she said yes, then she would lie to him and make Harriet look like a tart. In the end, her inbred honesty prevailed, and she shook her head wordlessly. With a start, they noticed that the coach had come to a stop. Anita looked at Tony. "Will you still come with me?" she asked in a small voice. In response, Tony pressed her hand and nodded. They alighted from the coach and went up to her apartment. Glancing at his watch, Tony noticed that it was well after two o'clock. "Shall we just sleep now?" Anita asked. "This evening has exhausted me." Tony nodded, "Yes, let us just sleep together. We haven't spent a night together yet." They undressed, but Tony kept his shirt on and Anita put on a nightshirt. They climbed into the bed. Anita moved close and put her head onto his chest. He caressed her hair while his thoughts wandered. "Hold me tight," Anita whispered, and Tony put his arms around her. In close embrace, the two lovers fell asleep. When they woke up, it was almost ten o'clock. They both felt lazy after the tiring evening and spent some more time in bed kissing and cuddling. Anita's maid, however, forestalled further amorous activities when she knocked on the bedroom door and announced that breakfast was ready. After their breakfast, Tony returned to the Royal George to change out of the gala uniform, but they met again for lunch. In the afternoon, Anita insisted that he accompanied her to a friend's house where they had chocolate and were interrogated mercilessly. The affair of Anita Heyworth with a young Navy captain was great news for gossip mongers, and her friends wanted details. Tony was surprised that Anita was so open about their love affair; he had assumed that she would be careful about her reputation. When they left, he asked her about it. "Don't worry, Tony," she answered calmly, "after last night our affair was public anyway. To be open about it will take away most of the excitement." Anita did not have to perform, and so they had the evening to themselves. They made ample use of that. The day spent together had rekindled the desire they felt for each other, and when they finally fell asleep that night, it was from exhaustion. The next day, Anita had to perform again, and after breakfast, Tony left her to her preparations and spent the day in various coffee and wine houses. He even played cards, something he rarely did, with three other captains who had invited him cordially. It was an altogether pleasant day, and the evening found him at the Drury Lane Theatre again. He enjoyed another performance of Tartuffe and escorted Anita back home after the show. Anita had the next day off again, and she showed him some of the attractions that London could boast. They were sitting at dinner in a fancy restaurant when an elderly woman, obviously a fleeting acquaintance of Anita, came up to the table. After scrutinising Tony for a moment, she spoke in hushed tone: "You do know Lord Brougham, don't you?" "Why yes, he is one of our most generous sponsors." "Just imagine, his son Rupert was challenged this morning. They say he committed some grave indiscretion with a young girl. And he is married to such a beautiful wife! The father of the girl challenged him." "Indeed?" Anita encouraged her friend. "The father is some crippled veteran, he can't walk. The duel will be at two paces with just one gun loaded. Imagine that. One of them will die for sure." "How unusual," Anita remarked. "Well, I hope that will be the last of him. I've heard it from others that this is not the first time he has caused trouble with helpless girls. Didn't he try to force himself upon you, too?" "I never went out with him, really," Anita answered, unwilling to become a part of the gossip herself. Being unable to gather further information, the woman went back to her own table. Anita looked at Tony and noticed the cold fury that emanated from him. "Is this what happened to Harriet?" he asked in a flat voice. "Yes, I promised never to tell you, but now you know it anyway. He forced his way into her room and raped her. The fathers made them marry to avoid a scandal." "But why would she marry that man?" Tony asked incredulously. "Why didn't she trust me?" "He left her with child. And nobody knew when you would return from New South Wales. She would have been shunned, even if Sir Richard had killed Rupert as he intended. What do you intend to do now?" "I can't get precedence over that girl's father. I have to wait for the outcome of the duel. But no matter what happens tomorrow, he is a dead man," Tony answered in a calm voice. "He is an expert shot, I heard." Tony smiled grimly. "Is he a good swordsman, too? Somehow, I think, is will be more pleasurable to settle this with cold steel. I would hate for him to be inept with the sword." "His father is one of the Lords of the Admiralty. He can ruin you." "So he can. It will avail nothing to his swine of a son. Tell me one more thing, Anita. I have not noticed Harriet's pregnancy when I saw them last year." Anita swallowed and looked at her hands. "He beat her severely one evening, and she lost the child." When she looked up at Tony, all the colour had gone from his face, as well as his assumed calmness. In a voice choked with passion, he snarled "He is dead, Anita, dead." "Let us wait for tomorrow, Tony. If he survives, we will think of a way to trick him into offending you. Then you'll have the choice of the weapon and you can do away with him. I'll help you, for Harriet's sake." "Harriet," Tony gasped, "how I have done her injustice!" "Don't say that! You could not know." "But I have caused her additional pain with my scorn. How she must despise me now!" "Despise you?" In spite of herself, Anita laughed. "Tony, she still loves you madly, don't you see that? That is why she fainted. Because you were with me, her best friend! I probably caused her just as much pain with that stunt." "Anita, I feel like we are caught in one of Shakespeare's tragedies. This does not happen to people." "But we are in real life, Tony, there is a chance for a good outcome," Anita insisted. "We'll see about that. Right now, we can only hope for the father of that poor girl. It were a shame if an innocent life was lost to that scoundrel." ------- It was two days after the premiere, and Harriet and Lucy sat in Harriet's sitting room. They heard Rupert return; he had been outside of London, over the night. Harriet was not overly bothered by his return since he did not dare to enter her quarters anymore while sober, and it was too early, even for him, to be drunk. She was surprised, though, to hear him shout around in the house for his man servant and the butler. Harriet and Lucy opened the door to hear what was going on. "Roberts, have this letter delivered to my father immediately!" they heard Rupert bark. "Toller, I need my regimental uniform. Notify the tailor, he'll have to let out the seams. I may have gained a little weight lately." Harriet made a face at that. More like gone to seed, she thought. More was going on. Rupert had his pistols brought, inspected them and ordered them to be cleaned and loaded by noon. "Need to practice some, have them ready!" he snarled at yet another servant. Harriet looked at Lucy with her eyebrows raised and quietly closed the door. "What does that mean?" Lucy asked. "A duel. It must be a duel. Why else would he need to practice with pistols?" "Do you think somebody may shoot him and kill him?" Lucy asked hopefully. "I'm not getting my hopes up, dear," Harriet answered darkly. "He's had two or three duels before, and he survived. That's why I never let Captain Carter know what happened to me. He might have challenged Rupert and got killed." "Captain Carter is too smart to challenge him on pistols, Harriet," Lucy maintained. "He would challenge him to a sword fight. I saw him practise daily with the other officers; he would carve up Rupert like the fat gander he is." Harriet had not thought about the other options an aggrieved party had to obtain satisfaction. A gentleman could not refuse to fight with the sword, especially not if he, like Rupert, had held officer's rank. The clatter of hooves made the women run to the front window. It was Lord Brougham's coach that had drawn up before the house. Quickly, they opened the door again, to listen in on the conversation in the hall. "What is it this time, Rupert?" they heard their Lordship's voice. They heard his exasperation, too. "I was at Alice Cowden's place over night. There was this girl, and she danced with me once or twice. Thought she was interested in me, but when I came to her room that night, she screamed the house down. Wouldn't stop even when I slapped her. Bloody father of hers came in and nearly ripped my head off. I told him that she had encouraged me but the bloody beggar wants satisfaction." "Who are we speaking of?" "Some Major McTaggart, of the bloody marines. Damned one-legged cripple; I'll shoot him tomorrow, and that'll be the end." "Major James McTaggart? I know that man. Lost his leg at the Nile under Lord Nelson. Why couldn't you let his girl in peace, you goddamned fool?" "Look father, maybe I don't have to kill him. Offer him some compensation; the poor fool must be hurting for money the way his uniform looked," Rupert chuckled scornfully. Lord Brougham considered this. "How many people know about the challenge?" "A few; some Commander Royston will act as his friend. He should be here any minute." "Then the cat's out of the bag. The Major cannot retract his challenge. Damn it to hell! Do you know that I'm considered to follow St. Vincent as First Lord? A scandal like this is the last thing I need. If you come out of this alive, you will rejoin your regiment. I'll purchase a colonel's patent for you. That should keep you out of trouble." "But, father, my regiment was posted to India!" "Precisely, Rupert. They will need fresh officers all the more, don't you think?" There was a noticeable trace of sarcasm in the old man's voice. "But what if I catch one of those dreaded diseases, father? What about the family line?" "I have two more sons, Rupert, who add to the family honour already, serving the King. Don't worry, one of you three will survive." Just then, a loud knock came from the entrance. The butler opened, and Harriet heard him ask the visitor his business. "Commander Royston," the man announced. "I have an appointment with the ... Honourable Rupert Palmer." There was a noticeable pause before the word "honourable" that gave a subtle show of disdain. Obviously, the commander was shown in, and the men were introduced. "Good afternoon, your Lordship! Mr. Palmer, I came on behalf of Major James McTaggart. You have gravely offended the Major, and he demands satisfaction. Who is your friend, Sir?" His Lordship spoke up. "I shall act for my son, if that is agreeable to the aggrieved party." "As you wish, milord! As the aggrieved party, my client has instructed me to propose the following conditions: both parties will face each other at two paces distance. Each will have a primed pistol, but only one will be loaded. Of course, the weapons will be identical, and nobody will know which weapon carries a full charge. At a signal from the seconds, both parties will fire. The Major regrets that his permanent impairment does not permit him a more conventional proposal. He expresses his hope that you will appreciate even conditions that will allow your client to display his courage without doubt." After a brief pause, his Lordship spoke. "I cannot find a reason to object to this proposal, unconventional though it may be. The conditions are indeed even..." "But father,..." "Don't interrupt me, Rupert! I am most sorry, Commander. As you see, I have indulged my son too much. As I said, on behalf of my client I accept. Where do you propose this unfortunate affair to be concluded?" "Hyde Park, at the western end of Serpentine Lake. Tomorrow morning at eight o' clock?" "You will find my client ready," Lord Brougham responded. Another brief exchange of polite phrases later, the Commander was shown out, and Rupert vented his fury. "Are you indeed mad, father? The old fool can kill me now." "As is his right, Rupert. The Major has been very cunning. There was no way out of this without losing your honour, don't you see that?" "But it is not fair! I am a very good shot, and this arrangement will nullify my advantage." "Precisely, Rupert. It does not take much courage to fight a duel, knowing that you are a superior shot. Listen to me now! You will wait for his shot. If he has the loaded gun, there is nothing you can do anyway. If he misfires, however, you will raise the pistol into the air before you fire. Even if your pistol misfires too, you have still spared his life, and he cannot challenge you to a second round." Rupert obviously did not answer to his father's advice. They heard him go into his quarters wordlessly. Then they heard his lordship ascend the stairs, and they closed the door noiselessly. A few seconds later, they heard his knock. "Who is it?" Harriet asked. "It's me, Lord Brougham." Harriet opened the door and let her father in law enter. "Harriet, I just wanted you to know that Rupert will face a challenge tomorrow. The conditions are rather unusual, I'm afraid. He has but an even chance." Harriet looked at her father in law and cocked her head. Her feelings for him were mixed. He had tried to be kind to her, but he had never really disciplined Rupert, and he still protected him. "I trust you do not expect me to offer him comfort, do you?" she asked with bitter sarcasm. His Lordship blushed. "No, of course not, Harriet. I just want to ask you for something." "Ask then," Harriet encouraged him. "If Rupert dies, please mask your true feelings. Don't gloat. I do not expect you to weep at his grave, but don't dance on it either. Will you do that for me and my wife?" "For you, yes, and for your wife. You have always been kind to me. I shall act the proper widow should Rupert die tomorrow." "Thank you, Harriet. You know, but for you, I would have disinherited Rupert a year ago. But I promised your father that you will be Lady Brougham one day, and I keep my word." Harriet nodded and his Lordship left her sitting room. "I feel like praying for Major McTaggart," she said quietly and Lucy nodded. Rupert Palmer did not sleep for a minute that night. True, he had fought three duels before, but it had always been against carefully selected victims and on his own terms. Now this beggar of a major dictated terms that Rupert could not understand. With certainty, one of the two men would be dead after the exchange, and with fifty per cent certainty it would be him, Rupert Palmer, who would die. For most of the night, he paced his room. In the morning, he calmed slightly and decided to write his will. But when he sat at his desk and started to write, panic set in and he could not continue. At six o'clock, thankfully, his father arrived. Rupert dressed carefully in his uniform. It was a tight fit, but it would do for a few hours. He joined his father at the breakfast table. To his surprise, Harriet sat at the table, too. When she looked at him, he tried to see malice, but he only saw a cool, appraising look. What she saw obviously aroused her contempt since she raised her eyebrows briefly. Perfectly calm, Harriet conducted a polite conversation with her father in law, ignoring her husband completely. 'As if I am dead already, ' Rupert thought. When the coach was announced ready, he stood up on shaky legs to follow his father. Before he left, he turned to his wife. "Now you'll have your wish fulfilled," he said hoarsely. "Not yet, Rupert, but at least I have hope!" she countered, and the unbridled hatred in her eyes made him shudder. When the Palmers arrived at Hyde Park, the other party was already there. Rupert saw Major McTaggart and tried to stare him down. But the Major was looking at him with such a cold hatred that it chilled Rupert's heart, and he had to avert his eyes. 'Everybody hates me, ' he thought stupidly. Rupert had the choice of a pistol, it was determined, since Commander Royston had loaded the weapons. Rupert stared at the two pistols. Life and death were lying side by side on the cushion. With a trembling hand, he chose one of them, and a second later he felt certain it was the wrong one. Major McTaggart calmly took the other pistol, and the opponents were placed at the prescribed two paces distance. The sun was not up yet, nor did that matter, since one could not miss at this distance, even blinded by the sun. Commander Royston spoke up. "Is there a way for you gentlemen to settle your dispute without the shedding of blood?" "Never!" came the Major's grim answer, and Rupert just shook his head, not trusting his voice. His Lordship spoke. "Gentlemen, ready your weapons!" Both men raised their pistols to their opponent's heart. "On my command, you will discharge your weapons. Ready now? Gentlemen, Fire!" McTaggart pressed the trigger. A white puff of smoke came from the priming pan, but that was all. With a triumphant "Ha!", Rupert pressed the trigger of his gun. The priming charge dissolved in white smoke, but no shot came out, either. Both men stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend. Just then, the Major's pistol sputtered again, and a shot sounded. The crows in the nearby trees took to flight with deafening noise, but Rupert Palmer did not hear them. With an astonished look, he gazed down at his own chest and saw the hole in his coat and the spreading blood stain. He collapsed and was dead before the seconds or the doctor reached him. ------- Tony and Anita were sitting at a late breakfast when the maid came in and gushed the news. "I just heard it from the Cartwicks' driver, Miss Heyworth. Lord Brougham's son was killed in a duel this morning! And before the eyes of his father! What a tragedy! I better brush out your black dress. You will be going to the funeral?" "I guess I have to, at least for his poor wife's sake," Anita answered, but the maid was already rushing out, probably to relay the gossip to other acquaintances. Anita looked at Tony. "Thank god. I am glad that you won't have to kill him." "It is hard to say for me whether I am glad or disappointed. I am glad for the other man whose life was spared." "Now stop that, Tony. Killing him yourself would not have changed anything. You don't have to redeem yourself." "You're right I suppose." "Of course I am," Anita answered archly. "Now, I'll be attending the funeral as a friend of Harriet's. I suggest you'll attend it, too, to accompany me." "Is that necessary?" "I think so. You won't have that many chances to express your sympathy and regret to Harriet. She is in mourning, and she will have little or no social contacts in the next three months. The funeral will be the only chance for you to show her that you know the truth now. It will mean a lot to her, I assure you." "But his family will be there." "So they will. But Lord Brougham is really a very kind gentleman whose only fault was overindulgence in his eldest son. Plus, he's a Lord of the Admiralty. It cannot hurt you to express your sympathy to him and Lady Brougham." Tony relented. They both organised the necessary items of clothing for the funeral during the next morning. Tony discovered that clothes of mourning were stocked by tailors, simply because death could strike suddenly with no time for relatives to have clothes made to fit. When they joined the mourners on the Chapel Hill Cemetery the next morning, Tony was surprised at how few people showed. "He seems to have had very few friends," he murmured to Anita out of the corner of his mouth lest somebody overheard him. "I pity old Lord Brougham," Anita whispered back. Indeed, his Lordship kept looking about as if to conjure more people to the grave site. Just then, Sir Richard Lambert and is wife arrived, joining their daughter. Lord Brougham sighed once and gave the parson a nod to commence the ceremony. Afterwards, when they offered their condolences to the family, Tony made sure that he looked straight into Harriet's eyes. He had worded his piece carefully, so not to cause raised eyebrows among the rest of the family. "Mrs. Palmer, please accept my condolences. I deeply regret what happened and I only wish I could have helped." He felt the hand he held tremble slightly when she thanked him. He had to move on because the next person was in line behind him. Anita and Tony only stayed shortly at the reception in Lord Brougham's mansion. Anita had to perform in the evening, and Tony needed to return to Portsmouth. Therefore, when he left her that evening, he bade farewell. They kissed, but that kiss conveyed more than anything else that their relationship was changing. Anita was withdrawn, and she wished him farewell more like a friend than a lover. ------- Not many of Rupert's friends showed at his funeral. After all, his old regiment served in India, and to be honest, he didn't have many friends to begin with. His younger brother, Commander James Palmer, was at sea, but the youngest brother, Edward, was there to support his parents. True to her word, Harriet acted the mourning widow, supported by Lucy Gutteridge. Both were in shapeless black dresses, and Harriet wore a black veil. Lord Brougham and his wife were deeply saddened, but for different reasons. While Lady Brougham simply mourned her first born, Lord Brougham was feeling failure on his part. He did not know where Rupert had strayed, but he felt the responsibility. Looking around, he was also saddened that so few of those friends who had so readily helped his son to spend his allowance cared to show at his funeral. There were surprises, though. Of all people, Anita Heyworth was there, at the arm of an unknown Navy captain. She stood close to the widow, to support her. When the chaplain had said his piece and the choir had sung their songs, the Palmers stood to receive the condolences. Anita Heyworth was one of the last to step forward, not being related and no close friend of the deceased, either. "Milady, milord, my deeply felt sympathy! Harriet, dear, I am so sorry for you!" She hugged the widow. Anita's companion was next. "I am Captain Sir Anthony Carter. Miss Heyworth asked me to accompany her. May I express my deeply felt sympathy at your loss?" "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Lord Brougham replied. "This is very kind of you." The captain turned to Harriet. "Mrs. Palmer, please accept my condolences. I deeply regret what happened to you. I only wish I could have helped." Harriet's mind whirled. The double meaning in his words was too obvious. Anita must have told him. He sounded sincere, though. Could he really forgive her? "Thank you, Sir Anthony. Your words mean a lot to me," she answered in a small voice. But already, the next person stood in line to deliver the appropriate phrases. After the funeral, there was a short reception at Lord Brougham's residence. Lord Brougham had asked Anita to come, too, and she dragged poor Tony along with her. Under the convenient cover of her black veil, Harriet watched Tony and Anita. She could tell they were at ease with each other, intimate like old friends and showing their mutual affection. At least, that was what Harriet felt. But why had Anita told him? Why had she made Tony understand what had really happened to Harriet? There could be but one explanation. Anita must plan to engage in a serious relationship with Tony, and she wanted him to be at peace with her friend Harriet. But how could she expect Harriet to play along? Didn't she understand that it was torture for Harriet to see Tony Carter with another woman, even if that woman happened to be her best friend? Just then, Anita approached her. "Harriet, dear, I am really sorry, but I need to go. Lord knows I am in no mood for comedy today, but I need to perform tonight." She hugged Harriet and continued in a whisper. "I shall visit you tomorrow afternoon. We need to talk, darling, and in private." She left with Tony, leaving an even more bewildered Harriet. She, too, retired to her house, not long after that, claiming exhaustion. The servants stood in line with the butler in the lead, offering their condolences. Harriet had a hard time keeping her emotions to herself. She dismissed the servants for the rest of the day, asking only her personal servants to stay and help her. Together with Lucy she sat in the tea room. For the first time, she felt no apprehension. Together they talked about the next days and what to do first. They were astonished when the butler, Toller, entered. "Madam, I am most sorry to interrupt, but I need your decision on what to do with your late husband's private study." "What about it?" Harriet asked, somewhat puzzled. "Well, Madam, to be perfectly honest, Mr. Palmer has not given me any orders, but I think you may want me to clear things up before his Lordship gets to see the study. I fear it may disturb his Lordship." "I still do not understand what it is you are talking about, Toller. Would you care to elaborate?" "Madam, the Honourable Rupert has an extensive collection of prints and books. The artefacts may be found offensive by many people, and I know his Lordship to be one of them." Harriet sighed. "You may be right, Toller, but I need to see for myself what we are talking about. I would feel bad if they were true pieces of art. Show me the room, then." "Madam, I must object! These things are not fit for a lady to see." "That would be for me to decide, Toller. Unless you want me to tell his Lordship that you were my husband's accomplice in the collection of these items?" The butler squirmed. He had been listening in to conversations often enough to know that Lord Brougham would not deny his daughter in law any wish. Having a butler run out of the house would not require a moment's hesitation. He therefore bowed and showed the two women the way to Rupert's study. It was a very pretty room, Harriet decided with surprise. The bookshelves went all the way to the ceiling. Two of the walls were covered with prints in expensive frames. She immediately recognised a full set of Hogarth prints, Marriage à la Mode. Her suspicion was roused immediately. That's what this rascal of a butler had planned, she thought. He could have cleared a tidy sum of money from the sale of the Hogarth prints alone. "I will use this study myself," she declared. "I will sort through the items and decide what to destroy and what to keep. Hand me the keys to this room, Toller." The butler complied with a sour expression on his face. "You may withdraw, Toller," Harriet dismissed him. When the butler had closed the door, Harriet and Lucy began their investigation in earnest. The prints on the walls were all very tasteful. There was a series of nudes that Harriet decided should not be displayed in a dining hall, but she was surprised at Rupert's taste. At least, until they found the large drawer under the desk that was standing at one window. Harriet blushed deeply when she pulled the first print from the drawer. It showed a satyr who penetrated a naked woman from behind. The print showed every detail of the bodies. It was certainly excellent craftsmanship on the part of the artist. She handed the print to Lucy. "Oh my," Lucy giggled, "this looks like fun." Harriet had to smile in spite of herself. The next print, however, made her gasp. It showed the satyr and the woman lying beside each other with the satyr's head buried between the woman's legs. The woman reciprocated by licking the satyr's member. Suddenly, Harriet remembered her one and only night with Tony Carter. He, too, had licked between her legs and she had taken his member into her mouth. "Harriet, what is it?" Lucy's voice penetrated the mist of her memory. Suddenly, Harriet realised that her cheeks were tear-streaked. She collected herself and plastered a rueful grin on her face. "I'm afraid, this one got to me," she said. Then she looked into Lucy's eyes and decided to be honest. "This is how Tony and I made love once." "Really," Lucy gasped, "he did that for you? How did it feel?" Harriet blushed even more. "It was the most delicious feeling I ever had. In the end, I fainted." "And did you, you know, take his ... thing ... into your mouth?" Harriet nodded. She knew her face was beet-red. "I took Andrew's once, too," Lucy admitted. "And did he like it! It was good for me, too. He lasted much longer when he horsed me afterwards." "Lucy!" Harriet was shocked. "What, you know Andrew and I did not just hold hands." "But didn't it hurt, Lucy?" "Not with Andrew. He wasn't my first, after all. No, it is wonderful when your lover fills you. I hated it with the prison guards, but with Andrew it was right, because I love him." She looked at Harriet's teary face. "Oh no, your poor lamb! Here I babble about how wonderful it is, and you had to endure this horrible man. Believe me, Harriet, once you find the right man, you will love it, too." Harriet nodded. "Let us look at the rest." Lucy giggled, "Good idea!" They examined the content of the drawer, print after print. Some were conventional, some were extraordinary. Pointing at one picture that showed a man with his member inside a woman's arse, Lucy groaned. "Ouch, that must hurt! One of those damned prison guards put his thing in there. I am telling you, never again!" Harriet looked at her friend. "I cannot understand how you manage to talk about these things so openly. You say it hurt. Don't you hate those memories?" Lucy pondered that question. "I suppose it is because I had time to overcome those experiences. Then I found people who showed me how wonderful it is to make love." "My brother?" Harriet could not help but ask. "Yes, Andrew, but before him there was Clarissa." "The Clarissa?" Harriet asked. "Yes. It began when she tried to comfort me. But then we just carried on. Hey, you said you had your quim licked, didn't you?" "Yes, but..." "No but, Harriet. A woman's tongue can do the same thing, don't you think? Clarissa was so loving and caring, I really felt love for her. And to lick her was exciting, too. Giving and taking, you know." "I still cannot believe you! Maybe, we should lock up the room and go to our quarters." Silently, they closed the room and went to Harriet's sitting room. They had a small supper there, but their silence continued. When the table had been cleared, Lucy looked at Harriet and bit her lower lip. "Harriet, do you want me to leave?" "Why?" "Well, I make you feel uncomfortable, don't I? What I told you has shocked you." "I admit that you shocked me, Lucy, it came unexpected. I never thought you preferred women is all." "But I don't, Harriet," Lucy exclaimed, "I love being with Andrew. But when I am lonely, I like the comfort of being with another person. Do you think I am bad, Harriet?" "Lucy, no!" Harried cried and rushed around the table to embrace her friend. "You are not bad. I am still your friend. Nothing has changed." Lucy hugged her back fiercely, tear flowing from her eyes while she smiled. "Oh, thank God! I thought I had ruined our friendship. Thank you, dear!" And she kissed Harriet on her lips. "You know I love you, Harriet, don't you?" Harriet swallowed. "I love you too, Lucy." Hesitantly, Harriet moved her face forward to kiss Lucy back. She had meant to give her friend a chaste kiss on the lips, but once their mouths touched, Harriet felt a dam break inside her. For minutes, the two young women stood and tasted each others lips. There was no overt passion in their kisses. Both were content to just touch their lips. When they finished their kiss, Lucy again hugged Harriet fiercely. Harriet could not help but feel the pressure of Lucy's proud bosom against her own slender form. She felt strangely comforted in her friend's embrace. "Lucy?" "Yes, dear?" "Please don't misunderstand me, but would you mind sharing my bed tonight? Feeling you beside me would really make me comfortable." "Certainly, Harriet, I'd love that. Why don't you prepare for bed, and I'll join you later?" Harriet nodded, and Lucy went into her own bedroom. She changed out of her dress and stays. After short deliberation, Lucy decided to undress completely before she put on her nightshirt. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed that her breasts and erect nipples showed clearly under the fabric. She bunched her nightshirt around her waist and, content with the image she presented, blew a playful kiss to her mirror image. She decided to apply some perfume, too, and she opened her hair and let her blonde curls flood over her shoulders. Nodding with approval, she went through the small hallway towards Harriet's bedroom and knocked. When she heard no answer, she opened the door hesitantly. By the light of a single candle, she could see Harriet in bed already. Her glorious, strawberry blonde hair was open and framed her head. Looking up at Lucy, Harriet patted the right side of her bed to invite her friend in. Lucy walked around the bed and slipped under the covers. She had hardly settled down when Harriet blew out the remaining candle, and the room became pitch black. "I can't see you," Lucy whispered and felt her way to her left until her hand touched Harriet's arm. "You want to hold my hand?" She could feel Harriet turning towards her. Lucy opened her arms and embraced her friend who cuddled against her. To her delight, Lucy felt that Harriet, too, was naked under her nightshirt. Moving her hand down her friend's back, she felt bare buttocks under the thin fabric. Harriet pressed into her even more and Lucy took the cue. She found Harriet's mouth in the dark and pressed her lips against her friend's. Harriet's lips opened slightly, and with a feeling of excitement, Lucy let her tongue slip in between. Harriet felt lightheaded. Lucy's breasts, now unrestricted, were pressed against her own chest, and she could feel the erect nipples through the two thin layers of fabric. Her own nipples were painfully erect, too, and she began to rub her chest against Lucy's bosom. Her tongue now duelled with Lucy's invading tongue, and Harriet felt deliciously naughty. Reaching down with her left hand, she felt Lucy's naked calf and let her hand slide up under the shirt, until she felt her friend's naked buttocks. She stroked the smooth butt cheek and elicited a moan from Lucy. Encouraged, Harriet let her hand explore the cleft between the globes of Lucy's behind until she found her friend's juicy slit. Breaking the kiss, Lucy tried to see her friend's face. "Are you sure that you never fooled around with another woman?" "Mmh, I'm sure. Do you mind my touch?" "Heavens, no, you do fine, believe me. Harriet, would you take off your shirt?" "Only if you take off yours, too," Harriet whispered, hardly believing her own words. Quickly, both women slipped their shirts over their heads and resumed their embrace. "You feel wonderful," Lucy whispered. Moving down, she kissed Harriet's throat before she began to explore Harriet's pert left breast with her tongue. She circled the areola for a while, and when she suddenly licked the protruding nipple with her rigid tongue, she heard a sharp intake of breath. Smiling inwardly, she began to attack her friend's breast with vigour, much to Harriet's delight, as she could tell from the small cries. Meanwhile, Lucy's hand had found another target, rubbing Harriet's vulva in small circles. When Harriet's hips began to undulate in response, Lucy moved her head down between her friend's legs. Slowly and carefully, she inserted a finger into the young woman's tight opening and twisted her hand until she found the rough spot inside. Harriet's hips jerked upwards, nearly breaking Lucy's nose who uttered a little cry of surprise and pain. "I'm sorry, Lucy," Harriet stammered in an embarrassed whisper, "what are you doing to me?" "Don't worry, I'm fine. You just surprised me, darling," Lucy assured her. Lucy resumed the penetration, adding another finger. Then she placed her flat tongue right on Harriet's protruding clitoris. Pressing down with her mouth, she controlled the spasmodic jerks of Harriet's hips and began to lick her slick nether lips in steady, rhythmic strokes while her fingers moved in and out of the tight love canal. This combined assault soon produced the desired effect, for Harriet went rigid, clamping her thighs around Lucy's head. When the spasms stopped, Harriet went limb. With a satisfied chuckle, Lucy scooted up to her friend's face and kissed her. For the second time in her life, Harriet tasted her own juices. "That was awesome, Lucy," Harriet sighed. "May I kiss your breasts? They feel wonderful against mine, but I'd love to taste them." "Yes, kiss me!", Lucy answered. Harriet moved on top of her friend and began to caress her full breasts. Lucy moaned when Harriet found the nipples with her mouth and hands. Tentatively, Harriet let one of her hand wander down Lucy's body and between her legs. Lucy pressed her body against the probing hand to encourage Harriet. Using her flat hand against Lucy's mound and moving it in small circles, Harriet increased her friend's arousal. Then she let two fingers glide into the slippery channel, all the while keeping her mouth busy on Lucy's breasts. The buxom blonde's breathing became laboured, and her lower body moved in harmony with Harriet's ministrations. Suddenly, Harriet had the idea to rub her pubes against Lucy's. She lifted her friend's right leg up against her own torso and scooted forward with her hips, until her pussy lips met those of Lucy. She began a grinding motion against her friend, increasing her speed while her arousal mounted, until she felt the blond girl go rigid. She fiercely hugged the uplifted leg and pressed her own sex against Lucy's, riding the waves of a new release. When her lust ebbed, her motions became less urgent, and she finally released her grip on Lucy's leg. Both young women lay side by side while their breathing calmed, and they fell asleep in each other's arms. When they awoke, the morning sun sent rays of light between the curtains. Looking at each other's dishevelled appearance, they giggled like schoolgirls. Lucy found her nightshirt and pulled it over her head, making herself presentable. Then she tossed Harriet's shirt over to her friend. It was none to early because the chambermaid knocked with the breakfast tea not five minutes later. By this time, Lucy had opened the windows and the fresh morning air had replaced the heavy musky smell of last night's lovemaking. After breakfast, both young women dressed. During breakfast, a thought had formed in Harriet's mind, and she called for the coach to be readied. In vain, Lucy tried to learn their destination. It was only when they stood at a modest house in one of the better streets of the East Side that Lucy realised who they were paying a visit. An elderly woman opened the door to their knocking and asked for their business. She was obviously surprised by the view of a widow in deep mourning. "I am Harriet Palmer, and this is my good friend, Miss Lucy Gutteridge. I would like to speak to Miss Moira McTaggart, please." "Miss McTaggart does not see visitors, Madam," came the hostile answer. "But I need to speak to her. I shan't take more than a few minutes." "I will ask the Major," the woman said and let Harriet and Lucy step into the entrance hall. The house was modest, dark and cold, and it smelled of illness. After a few minutes, they heard the thumping sound of a wooden leg and a gaunt man came to see them. "I am Major James McTaggart. What do you want of my daughter? Don't you think she has been through enough?" Harriet threw back her black veil. "Major, I just want to meet her and see how I can help her." "Why would you?" Harriet turned her face. She had not applied any makeup, and the week old brownish bruises showed. "I know full well what my husband was capable of, Major. Believe me, I do not blame you or your daughter for what happened. My husband deserved his fate. But I am concerned over your poor daughter, and I wanted to show her my regret and my sympathy." Her candour was appreciated, for Major McTaggart bowed slightly and led them towards a narrow staircase. "It's the first room to the right, Madam. She is in bed. She hasn't got up in a week." Suddenly, there were tears in the older man's eyes. "She was the light of my life, and now she is only a shadow of herself." Harriet turned to Lucy. "Lucy, dear, please let me talk to her alone. Major, would you mind entertaining my friend for a few minutes?" The Major bowed stiffly and showed Lucy into a small living room. In the meantime, Harriet climbed the narrow staircase and knocked on the first door. There was no answer, and she opened the door carefully. "Miss McTaggart?" A black haired girl was half sitting on the bed that stood against the far wall of the room. She cast an accusing glare at Harriet. "Who are you?" she demanded. "My name is Harriet Palmer." "What do you want of me? I did not ask for what your husband did. Leave me alone!" "Miss McTaggart," Harriet started, "I did not come here to accuse you or your father, quite the opposite. I came to apologise for what my husband did to you. I also came to see whether and how I might help you." She saw the suspicious look in the girl's eyes and decided to be brutally open. She knelt before the bed, took the reluctant girl's hands, and stared into her angry eyes. "Listen, almost two years ago, Rupert Palmer broke into my room at night, beat me senseless and raped me. Because my father is an important man, Lord Brougham forced his son to marry me. He probably thought this would make things right. But Rupert continued to beat me; he beat me so bad one night that I lost my unborn child. Being forced to live with him under one roof made me hate him more than anyone can ever believe. I know how you feel, Moira, and I want to help you. I want to be your friend if you let me." "Is this true?" the girl asked in a less hostile tone. "I promise," Harriet replied. "Now, the most important thing you have to understand is that it was not your fault. It took me a year and the help of a good friend to realise this, but I felt better afterwards. Moira, you are innocent. Will you believe me?" The girl nodded. "And because you are innocent," Harriet continued, "you must not be ashamed. So you should dress and come down with me. Your father will be happy to see you." "My father is dying," the girl said in a hoarse voice. "What?" Harriet asked. "He's suffering from a malignant growth. The doctor says, it is only a matter of weeks. He was hoping to find me a husband or at least a place to live before he dies. But who will marry me now?" "I certainly cannot marry you, but I can offer you a place to stay. If anything happens to your father, let me know and I will take care of you. I promise. I will ask my father, Admiral Sir Richard Lambert, to be your guardian. I am sure he will agree." "Why should he? He doesn't know me or my father." "If he does not agree, I will find another honest man to be your protector. Now, come and let us dress you." Strangely, the first name that came to her mind was that of Anthony Carter. I have to forget him, she admonished herself. Harriet coaxed the girl out of bed and helped her dress. She combed her raven black hair and braided it. Then she led the girl to the stairs and down to the first floor. Major McTaggart was thunderstruck. The Widow Palmer had achieved what he had tried in vain for a week. His beautiful girl was back. Her eyes still conveyed hurt and fear, but she had come out of her shell. Moira hugged her father. "Father, Mrs. Palmer has told me a few things about herself. I have also told her about us, about your health. She has offered me a place to live should your health decline further." "Would you do that, Madam?" Suddenly, Harriet had to smile. It was not a happy smile, more a sardonic one. "Major, I am in your debt. To be honest, when you shot my husband, you freed me from a life of constant fear. It will be my pleasure to take care of your daughter should that need arise. I will also ask my father to act as guardian. I think you know him, don't you?" The Major nodded. "Madam, this takes a load off my shoulders. I am not a rich man, but I have done my best to give my daughter a good upbringing and education. With your father as guardian, she may yet find a decent husband, in spite of what happened." Suddenly, Lucy found her voice. "This girl is as innocent of what happened as anybody. There is nothing for her to be ashamed of. We shall find her a fine husband. Why, look at her! There is no mortal man who could resist her beauty. All we need to do is find a mortal man with reason, that will be the hard part." Lucy hugged the girl. "I am Lucy Gutteridge. I am Harriet's friend and her brother's fiancé. I am living with her until her brother will return." Harriet invited the girl to visit her in the afternoon, promising her to meet the famous Anita Heyworth at her house. Hardly able to cover her excitement, the girl accepted. When the two young women finally left, the Major bent low over Harriet's hand. "Madam, I take it that your life has not been easy. You still care about other people, though, and that is what I call character. You are a true daughter of your father, and I am sure he is proud of you." "I learned a lot from my parents, Major. I also learned from life's trials, although these lessons have been hard. I refuse, however, to let those trials drag me down," she ended with her chin set and her back straight. The coach brought them back to her house and both women had a light lunch. Lucy watched her friend while they ate. "Harriet, dear, for what you are doing for this poor girl, I really love you." Harriet looked at her friend with a smile. "I have just decided not to let the Rupert Palmers run the world or my life. I am in a position to make right some of the wrongs Rupert was responsible for. It is part of my own healing. Now if I just knew what Anita is up to!" "I'm sorry I told her your secret, Harriet. But I thought she had to know. She is our friend." "You're right, Lucy, she had to know," Harriet conceded absentmindedly. Then she looked up with a wry smile. "I cannot keep fainting whenever she shows up with Captain Carter, unless she knows why." "Harriet, do you have any regrets about tonight?" Harriet thought about it and a true smile formed on her lips. "No, no regrets! What we did was wonderful. We should not make this a daily practise, but I loved it. And I love you, Lucy! Now let us get the tea room ready. Anita may come any minute." As a matter of fact, it was half past three before Anita arrived. While they greeted each other, Harriet could not help feeling apprehension and even some reservation. Since she was no actress, Anita noticed. "Harriet, I had to tell Anthony the whole story. He needed to know. Without him knowing what really happened, there will be no reconciliation between you." "What reconciliation? Anita, he hates me, he despises me!" "At least he feels something about you," Anita smiled. "He felt betrayed by you. All he received in the way of explanation was a cryptic letter from your mother. Naturally, he assumed that you changed your mind with your husband's future title in mind." "What?" "Think of it! When he left England, you promised to wait for him. He came back to find you married to a peer's son, with no explanation given. Put yourself in his shoes! What would you have assumed?" "The same," Harriet answered dejectedly, after brief consideration. "So he did not know the true reason? Mother said she would tell him all he needed to know. I thought he despised me for the mess I had got myself into." "No, he would not be so shallow. Actually, when I told him the truth, he felt horrible. He said he did not trust you enough and accused you wrongly. I had to convince him that he couldn't know. He could not have faced you yesterday if I hadn't." Suddenly, Harriet remembered something. "Anita, why are you doing this? I thought you were in love with Tony?" Anita considered the question. "I think I love him, yes. He makes me feel loved as a person. He listens to me, takes me seriously. He does not present me with expensive gifts to put me in his debt. He was very apprehensive about going to Rupert's funeral, but he did it for me. But the point is, I can never be his wife. I could never give up the theatre. The stage gives me so much fulfilment, that I could not be myself without it. I could never be Lady Carter. I told Tony, and you know, this wonderful man understands me! I am his paramour, dear. That's all. And once you two will be reunited, I will not even be that. I love you both, and I want to see both of you happy." Harriet had tears in her eyes when she hugged Anita. "You are without doubt the most wonderful friend I could imagine." She looked over to Lucy. "Well, actually, I have two most wonderful friends." There was a knock on the door, and the two women separated. "Miss Moira McTaggart," Toller announced. Hesitantly, the black haired girl entered the room. But Lucy quickly got up and led her to the table. "Anita, please meet Miss McTaggart. Moira, this is Anita Heyworth." "P-pleased to meet you, Miss Heyworth. I saw you last year as Ophelia, and I cannot express how much I admire you," the girl gushed. "Oh my, you certainly are a beauty, Miss McTaggart, or may I call you Moira?" "I would like that," the girl answered. "Then call me Anita, will you? McTaggart? Oh dear, you are Major McTaggart's daughter?" The exhilaration was gone from the girl's face and supplanted by defiance. "Yes I am. I am the reason for the duel." "No Moira," Harriet snapped, "my husband's foul deed was the reason. You are innocent of what happened." "Of course, she is," Anita quickly added, "I am sorry for my thoughtless question. But I did not make the connection immediately. Please forgive me." She offered Moira her hand and the girl hesitantly took it. "How is your father?" Harriet asked to change the subject. "He is in great pain. He does not want to admit it, but I can see it. The doctor told me that the pain will even be worse towards the end." "But isn't there something he can take against the pain, like laudanum?" Lucy, the apothecary's daughter, asked with concern. Moira smiled sadly. "Laudanum is expensive. He says he does not want to waste any money on himself." Lucy looked at Harriet and Harriet nodded. Lucy quickly got up and left the room. She returned a few moments later with a small bottle. "This is laudanum. I use it for when I have my days, against the cramps. I only take one or two spoons. For your father, you should start with five spoons in the evening. That will help him find some sleep. Find a way to add it to a drink so he won't know. If you find he will need it during the day, start with just one or two spoons. I will get a new bottle. If you need more, just come by and I will give it to you." The girl nodded. "Thank you very much for this. It hurts me to see him suffer." "That's not all, Moira," Lucy continued, producing a small paper bag. "This is willow bark. Take a teaspoon of this and pour it in a cup of boiling water. Let it sit for five to ten minutes. Then strain it through a mesh. Sweeten it with some sugar and let your father drink one cup every five hours. You do have sugar, don't you?" Moira shook her head, ashamed at her poverty. This time, Harriet rose and left the room. She came back with a rather large paper bag. "Here is some sugar, Moira, willow bark tea without sugar is horrible. And use some yourself when you drink tea, will you?" Moira blinked back a tear and nodded. "I don't know how to thank you." "Then don't," Harriet smiled. "We are your friends, do not forget this. Ever." Anita cleared her throat. "I have no teas or sugars with me, I'm afraid. But do you think your father might enjoy an evening at the theatre? It may distract him and you. I have my own box at the Drury Lane, but I rarely use it. Let us just say, I will reserve it under your name on Wednesday. Feel free to make use of it." "I can't speak for my father, but I thank you for your offer," Moira answered nicely. After that, the conversation turned towards other topics. After a while, Moira announced that she needed to return to her home and look after her father. Since it was getting dark, Harriet insisted on having her brought home in her carriage, and she went to rouse the driver. When Moira had left, Harriet returned to the tea room. "She is such a good girl. I hope she will come over her experience." "You know, Harriet, I think she will. Just as you will," Anita stated. "Well, much as I would like to stay, a certain gentleman is waiting for me. He'll be leaving tomorrow." Harriet opened her mouth. "No Harriet, you can't see him. You're in deep mourning, and you must not receive male visitors nor can you pay visits to men. Have patience, dear. He needs time to adjust." "But will you two... ?" Harriet began and blushed. "Will we end up in bed? I don't know, honestly. I would like to, but he's not been in the mood during those last days. I should probably blame you for it." Harriet felt torn between a strange sense of satisfaction and guilt. She gave herself a mental nudge. "Anita, I have no rights over him. Whatever happens between you and him must be nothing of my concern." "Liar," Anita smiled and kissed her cheek. Then she waved to Lucy and left. ------- Over the next days and weeks, Harriet did not see much of Anita, but Moira McTaggart came to visit daily. Her father was feeling better with the laudanum. She had told him about the source, she said, and he had grumbled about the waste of good money on a lost cause. But he slept better, and the willow bark tea helped him over the days. He had felt able to go to the theatre with his daughter, and according to Moira, enjoyed it. There was no mistaking, though, that the end was coming nearer. It was four weeks after the duel, that Moira sent a note by messenger that her father had died in his sleep during the night. The girl took charge of the burial herself, assisted by Lucy. Harriet did not go to the funeral because she did not want to affront her husband's parents. However, she informed them of the fact that Moira McTaggart would live with her. Two days after the burial, Admiral Sir Richard Lambert, KCB, declared himself guardian of the orphan Moira McTaggart and Moira came to live in Harriet's house. Harriet and Lucy had not repeated their lovemaking since that first night. But when everything settled towards near normal, Harriet, supported by Lucy and Moira, set out to continue the screening of the contents of Rupert's study. More erotic art was found behind the fake back of a bookshelf. The prints they found there were of a sort that took the young women's breath away. They represented Rupert's inclination towards violence and rape, and after seeing them, the three friends took those prints to a fireplace and burned them. There was a large collection of erotic writing, some of it of high quality, like Les Liaisons Dangereuse. Some books however represented Rupert's leaning towards rape and dominance, and those found their way into the fireplace, too. After two weeks, the contents of the study had been thoroughly sorted, and Harriet began to use the room for their afternoon tea. It gave her a feeling of liberation that she had taken over Rupert's most cherished possessions and had disposed of them at her own discretion. Three months after Rupert's death, his brother James called on Harriet to express his sympathy. Commander James Palmer was the opposite of his older brother. A courageous officer, sober and virtuous, he was the apple of his father's eye. Harriet had met him only once, at her sham wedding. His physical likeness to his brother had put her off initially, until she noticed his friendliness and his tact. Since he came after lunch time, she invited him to a hot chocolate in her new study. At his request, they were alone. "Harriet, I must give you fair warning. My father has practically ordered me to pay you this visit. He wants me to court you." "But James, why should you?" "Father says he promised your father that you would be Lady Brougham one day." "There are more important things than that, James, don't you think?" "I could not agree more. I just want you to know that I will not be offended if you will reject the proposal I promised my father to make." There was a friendly smile on his face, and Harriet smiled back. "Thank you for your fair warning," she said. "Now that our engagement has ended, would you care to meet my friends? They are dying to have their hot chocolate." "I would be more than pleased to meet them, Harriet," James answered. Harriet called for Lucy and Moira to join them and introduced them. James Palmer openly admired Lucy when she was introduced as Harriet's future sister in law, but when raven haired Moira came forward, James Palmer lost his heart. The jovial, friendly, young man stood transfixed and could only stare at the young girl. Young Moira, on the other hand, was shocked to see the physical likeness of Rupert Palmer before her. She stood back with horror in her eyes. Somehow, through the fog, Harriet's words penetrated James Palmer's addled brain. "... , daughter of the late Major James McTaggart." Now he was shocked and deeply embarrassed. The shock helped him, though, to regain the use of his brain. Out of impulse, he bent his knee before her and took her hand. "Miss McTaggart, words cannot convey the remorse I feel over the shame my brother has brought upon my family. The fact that you must hate me saddens me beyond imagination." Moira swallowed. This apparition from her nightmares spoke in gentle words and apologised. She also saw his desperation, and she was touched. She had been a warm hearted and open girl, unable to hold grudges against people. His words melted the armour she had built up. "Commander, I don't hate you. You have done nothing to deserve my hatred. Please understand that your likeness to your brother scared me for a moment." "You must have a big heart, Miss McTaggart. May I entertain the hope that you will consent to see me when I visit my sister in law?" Moira blushed prettily. "I am only a guest in Mrs. Palmer's household. I would not be so discourteous as to scorn her relatives and guests." James Palmer stayed for another hour. He made polite conversation, asked how he could help Harriet, asked about Andrew Lambert, and behaved himself like any gentleman of breeding should. But all through this hour, his eyes rarely swayed from Moira. It was like his eyes were not under his will. When he, with effort, declared that he had to leave, Harriet followed her good heart. "This has been a delightful visit, James. I hope that you will visit me again during your stay in London. I am sure that I speak not only for myself, but also for my friends." James's eyes darted towards Moira who blushed again. "I would like nothing better than that, Harriet!" he blurted. Then, remembering his manners, he kissed the hands of the women and took his leave. When he was gone, Harriet took Moira's hand. "Moira, tell me honestly, are you comfortable with James Palmer visiting?" "He seems nice," Moira said hesitantly. "And it's not his fault that his brother was a scoundrel. Tell me, is he really that nice?" "From what I know, Moira, he is well respected by his fellow officers. There are no nasty rumours about him, he does not gamble and he drinks only sparingly. You could not imagine two brothers who are such opposites." "And he has fallen head over heels," Lucy could not help but add. "What can he want of a girl like me?" Moira asked, suddenly suspicious. "He is the future Lord Brougham, and I am a fallen woman, the daughter of a penniless officer." "Sssh, Moira, you are also easily the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. You have character and intelligence. Give James a chance if you like him. We will look after you and see to it that you will not be hurt again." Moira was still doubtful, but when James Palmer visited again during the next days, she was nevertheless friendly to him. James' visits became regular during the next two weeks, and it became standard procedure that Harriet and Lucy would withdraw under some excuse and leave James and Moira alone. Finally, one evening, after James had left, Moira hugged Harriet and Lucy. "James will tell his father tonight." "What?" Harriet and Lucy asked in unison. "That he plans to ask for my hand," Moira answered breathlessly. "And tomorrow, he will interview your father, Harriet!" Both Harriet and Lucy squealed with delight, and all pretence about mourning was forgotten for the rest of the evening. They drank wine that evening, to celebrate Moira, and they were decidedly drunk when they retired to their bedrooms. First Lucy and then Moira came to Harriet's bedroom in their night shifts, and Harriet had another bottle of wine sent up. They sat on Harriet's bed, drinking wine, laughing and hugging each other. When Harriet awoke, she felt pain behind her eyes, and an empty feeling in her stomach made her sick. Then she noticed that her left hand was stuck under something heavy. She looked left and saw a naked Lucy who was snoring lightly. Harriet's right hand was stuck too. Looking to her right, her heart nearly stopped. It was lovely Moira who had pinned Harriet's arm under her body, and Harriet realised that her hand was stuck between the girl's thighs and touching her mound. Moira's hand was resting on Harriet's left breast, while Lucy's rested on Harriet's stomach. For her life, Harriet could not remember a thing, but the heavy, musky smell in the room gave her more than a subtle hint at what had happened. Just then, Moira moved and opened her dark eyes. "Good morning," Harriet whispered, uncertain of how to handle the situation. "Good morning," Moira purred. To Harriet's shock, the girl scooted up and kissed her on the mouth, pushing her tongue between the woman's lips. She tasted delicious, Harriet decided, and responded with her own tongue. "Hey, you two, you started without me?" Lucy complained. Harriet and Moira separated. "Lucy Gutteridge," Moira stated, "you have corrupted me. I've never felt anything like what you did to me tonight." "How about a repeat?" Lucy grinned. But Harriet was awake now. "Stop it, you two! James may come over in short time. Maybe even with my father. We have to dress. And I need breakfast!" "Oh my god, James!" Moira exclaimed "What am I going to tell him?" "Nothing," Lucy said. She looked into Moira's eyes. "Moira, we had too much to drink, and we had fun. But you and I, we are not going to marry. I love you, Moira, I do, but I also love Andrew. I love Harriet here, but Andrew will be my husband, and James will be yours. Nobody needs to know about last night. After all, no harm was done." Moira bit her lips. "I guess you're right, Lucy. But I never felt anything like tonight..." "Moira," Harriet interjected with a smile, "men have tongues and fingers, too. And a man who loves you and respects you will find ways to give you pleasure. James loves you. Give him a chance. Yesterday, you were on cloud nine just because he was telling his father about you." Moira nodded. "I better get dressed." "Wait," Harriet said and kissed her once more. "I love you dearly." Lucy jumped from the bed, too. "I better get dressed, too." Harriet used the wash stand and made herself presentable. Indeed, it was just an hour later, while the three young women sat at the breakfast table, when they heard the ring of the door bell. Toller entered stiffly. "Lord and Lady Brougham, the Honourable James Palmer, Madam!" His Lordship came in, followed by Lady Brougham and James, and greeted Harriet first. He acknowledged Lucy with a bow of his head. Then his eyes took in Moira's appearance. He sighed. "Miss McTaggart, I can see now why my son insists on declaring himself for you. We never met and I saw your father only briefly, but let me express the deep sorrow I felt over the circumstances that occasioned that particular meeting." Moira acknowledged Lord Brougham's words with a graceful nod of her head. Lady Brougham stepped forward. "My dear, can you truly forgive our family? James tells us that you have declared your love for him." "Lady Brougham," Moira responded, "what your oldest son did to me is of no consequence for my feelings toward James. I harbour a strong affection for him; he is all a girl can wish for in a future husband." She walked over to James, her hands extended, and James took her hands in his. Hand in hand, they faced his parents. "It must be God's will, then, and his justice" Lord Brougham mumbled. He raised his voice. "You have my consent, James. If Sir Richard agrees, we can announce the engagement. I think the tenant's reception will be a good opportunity. After all, we can't have any other social events so soon after Rupert's death. Please understand," he bowed to Moira, "we cannot but think of him as our son." Moira nodded. "I understand your sorrow, milord. Since my father has died only recently, any festive occasion would not be appropriate for me, either." "Harriet, dear, would it trouble you much to keep Miss McTaggart as your guest? I am afraid, custom dictates that a wedding cannot be held before another eight months." "Having Moira as my guest will never trouble me, Lord Brougham." "Well, James, it is agreed from my side. You better ask her guardian now. If you don't mind, we will accompany you." James spoke up for the first time. "Harriet, would you mind coming, too? You can persuade your father that Moira and I care for each other." "Of course, James. Let me dress properly, though." Edited by Duffiedawg and Ian ------- Chapter 11: Against The Odds January 1805 Returning to Portsmouth, Tony found his ship almost ready for sailing. Lt. Fortescue had done a splendid job, and Tony told him so. The sailing orders had arrived, too, and Tony found that they had five more days. He gave his First Lieutenant leave for those five days and took over the supervision of his ship himself. The orders called for Clyde to escort five Navy transports destined for Lord Nelson's squadron off Toulon. The ships carried much needed provisions, ammunition, and other supplies hard to come by in the Mediterranean. The orders stressed the need for steady vigilance since the Spanish had used the peace period to restore their fleet to its old strength. Cadiz and Algeciras harboured considerable naval forces, and Tony guessed that this was the reason for sending his big frigate as cover for the small convoy. He was quite happy with the orders; firstly, because those transports were commanded by Navy officers, less likely to do stupid things, and secondly because he saw a chance to meet Lord Nelson in person. In the next days, Tony became immersed in the usual bustle of a ship making ready for sea. Fresh water came aboard in the very last days. So did his private stores. Since he had become affluent, he undertook to have good quality cabin stores and a selection of ale, wines and spirits. Personally, he drank sparingly, but there was always the chance to have to play host for other officers. He also paid another visit at Elisabeth's tailor's shop, to pick up his new everyday uniforms and to settle his debt. He slept ashore under the care of Mrs. Blacket who had taken charge of his house. So far, he was highly satisfied. The house was fit to live in, there was fresh linens on the beds, urgent repairs were due in the next weeks, and, most importantly, the meals prepared by the Frenchwoman were a delight. After the first day, he ordered his steward to come to his house and learn from Mrs. Blacket. Their sailing was postponed for another three days when one of the transports, while taking cargo, crashed against a quay and sprung a leak, necessitating repairs. On one of the last days in port, their new surgeon reported for duty. Tony disliked the man immediately. He had unsteady, bloodshot eyes, and his once splendid coat looked as if the man had slept in it. He reeked of spirits, too. "Dr. Sykes, isn't it?" he began. "Yes," came a mumbled reply. "That would be 'yes, Sir Anthony'!" Tony snapped, his dislike for the man growing. "Aye aye, Sir Anthony!" "Let us be open, doctor. I can see that you report for duty in a drunk state. I will not tolerate this. I expect you to spruce up your appearance. I don't tolerate wardroom members who look like they were just thrown out of a brothel. As for ardent spirits, you will abstain from them while you serve on my ship." Dr. Sykes made a face as if he had bitten into a lemon. "That's an order, doctor, and you'll disobey it at your peril. I'll have no drunken surgeon in my ship." "I'm not drunk," Sykes protested. Under Tony's glare, he hastily added a "Sir". "But you give a really good impression of a drunk. Perhaps you have a calling as an actor in the comedy. The medicinal spirits will be placed under the responsibility of the First Lieutenant." "That is insulting, Sir!" "Maybe," Tony answered coolly, "but my duty is the ship and its crew. Personal sensibilities rank only low in my thinking. This is all. Get yourself in proper shape, and I may reconsider those measures. In the meantime, make sure that the sickbay is stocked with what you need. I'll have your report by four bells in the afternoon watch. Dismissed!" Tony shook his head. There were all kinds of people serving in the Navy, many of them fleeing from their own inner demons. Dr. Sykes would bear close watching. Three days later, Clyde and the small convoy of Navy transports, three barks and two brigs, weighed anchor. Sailing close-hauled on a east-south-eastern course in a north-western wind, they sighted Quessant after two days. Keeping the course for another three days brought them off the Galician coast. They sighted Cape Finisterre on the sixth day and changed course to south-south-east, sailing along the Portuguese coast. On the tenth day, they sighted Cape Sagres and the small convoy sailed on easterly course for the Gibraltar straights. The prevailing westerly wind saw them easily through the straights. Skirting around Cartagena, where Tony suspected superior Spanish naval forces, they sailed closely past the island of Ibiza and then into the Golfe du Lion. After seventeen days, they sighted the blockading squadron and made their way to the flagship. The Victory lay hove-to in the light westerly breeze, and Tony brought the Clyde to within two pistol shots before the helmsman turned her neatly into the wind. While the sails were shortened, the gig was already lying alongside. Clyde's captain, with his secretary and two mail bags, was rowed across to the flagship. The boatswain's mates' pipes twittered a salute and Tony was met at the port by Captain Hardy himself. "Welcome, Sir Anthony! His Lordship asks you to report to him immediately. If you will follow me..." The main cabin of the Victory was huge, and the little man in his admiral's uniform looked almost lost. He rose politely from his desk, though, and approached his visitor who saluted. "Captain Sir Anthony Carter, milord, at your service!" "Thank you, Sir Anthony, and welcome. We have been awaiting those transports for weeks." "We had a fast passage, milord, just seventeen days. There was a delay in Portsmouth, though. The Wrexham brig sprung a leak which had to be fixed." "Oh, I'm sure you did what you could, Captain. Your reputation is not of one who would waste time. I was merely referring to our dire need of provisions." "Of course, milord." "Did you see any signs of the Dons?" "Not a single sail since Quessant, milord. With the transports under my care, I thought it best not to sail too close to Cartagena." "Certainly, captain. I take it that you will escort those transports back?" "Those are my orders, milord." "Pity, that! I would give my other arm to have a frigate like yours in my squadron. Those old thirty-twos are no match for the French frigates." Hope surged through Tony. "Perhaps the transports could be escorted back by one of those frigates which needs a refitting, and I could fill in?" "You flatter me, Captain, and I am tempted. I'm afraid, however, that I would be relieved of my command if I undertook to shanghai a frigate under Admiralty orders. But I will make a suggestion to this effect in my report." "My crew and I would feel honoured, milord." "Did you bring extra crews by any chance?" "Three lieutenants, six midshipmen, eighteen able seamen, and twenty-two recruits, milord. And a company of marines. They are all berthed in the Badger transport." "Better than nothing. I just hope those French will come out and give battle. Blockading this harbour has to be the worst duty for an active officer. Now, Captain, I thank you for your services, but there are some documents for me to read. Perhaps I can entice to join us for dinner? I am sure my officers will be delighted to hear the latest news and gossip from England." "Certainly, and with pleasure, milord," Tony answered delightedly. He then spent a few more minutes with Captain Hardy on the quarterdeck to discuss the distribution of the provisions and the mail before his gig took him back to the Clyde. For the remainder of the day, the Clyde stayed in the vicinity of the Victory. The transports distributed their cargo among the ships of the squadron and in return took wounded and disabled sailors and soldiers on board. Later that afternoon, Tony received an invitation by flag signal for dinner on the flagship, together with several other captains. At the beginning of the first dog watch, the gigs of the captains assembled around the Victory. Tony was introduced to the captains of the squadron, and he realised that he was the most junior captain present with his scarcely more than two years seniority. During dinner, Tony was bombarded with questions about the politics and society gossip. Tony scored with his recount of the premiere night at the Drury Lane Theatre, and when he confessed his personal friendship with Anita, he was looked upon with awe. He also mentioned the fatal duel of Rupert Lambert, not so much because anyone might know him, but because his younger brother, Cmdr. James Palmer R.N., was now the heir to his father's title. Lord Nelson spoke little during the evening, and when he did, he did not raise his voice. Nevertheless, when he opened his mouth, his officers listened with attention. It was clear that the small man commanded the undisputed loyalty of his officers. There was no heavy drinking during that dinner, as Tony noted with satisfaction, and he returned to his ship at the end of the second dog watch with a clear head. Four days later, the Clyde and the five transports saluted Lord Nelson's flag with the prescribed number of guns and began to beat against the westerly wind. Tony had conferred with some of the captains who knew the waters better than he did, and he had decided to sail due south, past the island of Minorca, to make the best use of the wind. They sailed, in fact, all the way to the African coast, near Algiers. The second tack to north-north-west, brought them close to Formentera, where they tacked again. That third tack took them to Oran. From here, they had to claw their way to westward and to the straights. Luckily, the wind shifted briefly to south-south-west at that point, allowing the convoy to pass the straights with close-hauled sails on the starboard bow. That southerly three knots breeze prevailed for another four days, allowing them to clear Cape Sagres, the south-western tip of Portugal. For another four days, they sailed northward before the light wind, until a western wind took over. With the wind abeam, they made slow progress until they rounded Cape Finisterre. From there, they raced across the Bay of Biscay, with a half wind and under full sail. They sighted Quessant thirty days after sailing from Toulon. They came across the Channel Fleet under Vice-admiral Sir William Cornwallis who kept the French fleet in Brest in a veritable stranglehold. Tony briefly visited Sir William in the Elephant to learn the latest news and to relay Lord Nelson's compliments. Another 18 hours saw them rounding the Devil's Head, eleven weeks after they had sailed from Portsmouth. Tony delivered the dispatches from Lord Nelson to the Harbour Admiral's office. Sir Charles "Dreadnought" Foster received Tony's personal report. A day later, Tony received order to sail to London and await orders there. This was strange. The Clyde would sail three days to London while a post chaise would bring orders to Portsmouth in a day. Nevertheless, the Clyde weighed anchor and raced before a westerly wind all along the Channel coast. Past Dover, they turned north, with the wind abeam. Sailing upriver into the Thames estuary was an entirely different matter, though. They anchored near Southend for two days until the wind shifted to north. This allowed them, supported by an incoming tide, to sail upriver and into the Pool of London where the Clyde cast anchor. Tony reported to the Admiralty but he was told to wait for his orders. It was not decided yet where the Clyde would be posted next. Tony shrugged inwardly. They could to much worse things to him than let him wait in London. He called upon Anita at the first chance, and they met on several occasions during the following week. He slept on board mostly, though, as Anita did not seem to be all that comfortable with Tony sleeping over in her flat. She joked that with a horny sailor in her bed, she did not get enough sleep. When they had sex, it was in the afternoons. They still had a good accord, but Tony felt that their relationship was more and more moving into the direction of friendship with benefits. He was having breakfast in the cabin of the Clyde when a letter was delivered by boat from the shore. Tony looked at the handwriting on the envelope and he felt uneasy when he recognised it. He opened it briskly, like someone who wants to finish an unpleasant duty. My dear Sir Anthony, he read, I have learned with great pleasure that your ship is at anchor in the Pool. We did not have a chance to talk to each other since your departure for New South Wales, two years ago. It would give me and my dear husband great pleasure if you could find it possible to visit us while you are in London. Perhaps you may care to join us for a breakfast tomorrow at 9 o'clock? If this would inconvenience you, feel free to suggest another time. Your friend Eleanor Lambert Tony sighed. It would be an uncomfortable meeting. He held no small grudge against Harriet's mother for keeping him uninformed of the reasons for Harriet's marriage. On the other hand, he owed Sir Richard and his wife a lot for their help in his early career. Mostly, however, he knew that there was no valid excuse for turning down the invitation. Sir Richard must know that he was sitting around waiting for orders. He therefore wrote a brief billet acknowledging and accepting the invitation. He was apprehensive when he arrived at the Lamberts' town house the next morning. He half expected Harriet to be there. But Lady Lambert was far too sophisticated for such a ham-handed manoeuvre. Instead, he was received by the elder Lamberts in a cordial atmosphere. No mention was made of Harriet in the first hour, and when Lady Lambert approached the subject, she simply apologised for her poor handling of the situation. She claimed convincingly that the whole affair had distraught her so much as to impair her good judgement. Sir Richard changed the subject again by asking Tony about the state of the Mediterranean Fleet and the health of Lord Nelson. They were still discussing this topic when the butler entered and announced visitors. "Lord and Lady Brougham, Commander James Palmer, and Mrs. Palmer are asking for a brief interview." While Sir Richard lifted his eyebrow to indicate his surprise, Lady Lambert blushed. "Oh, I am sorry, Captain, I assure you that I did not plan this. I don't know the purpose of the visit." "Lady Lambert, there is no need for excuse nor explanation," Tony answered politely. "Unless you would rather I left, I have no reason to avoid your daughter." Sir Richard had already risen to receive his visitor. Lady Lambert looked at Tony and spoke in low tone. "You know everything?" "I know the gist of what happened. But I know enough not to hold your daughter responsible for the whole sordid affair." Looking over her shoulder, Eleanor Lambert ascertained they were alone, and the she gave the flustered Tony an affectionate hug. "You are a good man, Anthony Carter. May I entertain just a little hope that you and Harriet can be reconciled with each other?" "There is always hope, but this is something Harriet and I must work out between ourselves." "Of course, of course," Lady Lambert agreed hastily. "Now let us meet our visitors." They joined Sir Richard and his guests in the large living room. Harriet almost jolted back when she saw Tony, it was good that her face was behind her black widow's veil lest she might have given away her feelings. "Eleanor, Commander Palmer has asked for my permission to marry young Miss McTaggart. Personally, I cannot find any reason to object. What do you think, my dear?" "Why, Richard, this has to be the best news in months. Of course, she is in mourning, and they will have to wait until next year. I take it that Miss McTaggart is in agreement, Harriet?" "Very much so, Mother. She is positively delighted and she cares for James. I have rarely seen a better match." "Then it is agreed," Sir Richard announced. "Miss McTaggart has inherited her father's possessions, and I keep those in trust. When the time is right, Commander Palmer and I will settle these questions. May I offer you some refreshments?" Lord and Lady Brougham declined, and left soon after. Their state of mourning did not allow any forms of celebration. James Palmer accompanied his parents, of course. Only Harriet said that she would stay for lunch with her parents. They all went back to the breakfast table. Lady Lambert did not stay long, though. She left to organise their lunch. After a few minutes, she called for her husband to join her. Sir Richard sighed and shook his head before he left. Harriet and Tony were left alone. "She is doing it again," Harriet sighed. "Please believe me that I did not plan this. I had no idea that you were in London. You don't have to stay if I make you uncomfortable." That last sentence came out with a sob at the end. "Harriet," Tony answered, "I am uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable because I judged you wrongly and caused you additional pain. And because I was not there when you needed me." "Tony, you mustn't blame yourself. Anita told me how you felt, and I can understand you. It must have been terrible for you, too." "Not as bad as for you, Harriet. At least I could find some solace." "With Anita?" "Yes, with Anita. I did not know she was your friend. We met quite by chance. It was through her that I opened up again. Well, her and Maria." He had decided to be completely open. Whatever the future might hold for them, he was not about to start over with lies. "Maria?" "Doña Maria Christina Arabella Ruiz de Costa y Ledesma. The wife of His Most Catholic Majesty's governor of Cartagena, Don Alonso Christobal Ruiz de Costa y Torquena. I had rescued her from captivity. She had been a prisoner for three years. She was a guest on my ship. I found her to be a fascinating person and endearing." "Do you love her?" "I could have, Harriet. But she is married. It was only one night that we had, but I feel that it changed me. I would rather see her as a friend and soul mate than as a paramour. She told me to keep looking for the woman destined to be my wife." "So you had an affair with this Spanish woman while you had a relationship with Anita?" There was accusation in Harriet's voice. "I had only met Anita for one evening before I sailed," Tony answered reasonably, "I did not know whether she would want to see me again." He decided not to mention Elisabeth. "It appears that your chagrin about losing me did not keep you from enjoying yourself," Harriet stated with bitterness in her voice. "Don't you think you may be just a bit unfair? For all I knew, you were happily married. What was I supposed to do? Seek death in battle?" Harriet checked herself. "No, of course not. I'm sorry, Tony. It is not easy for me to hear that not one but two women won your heart. It was bad enough with Anita, and Anita is my dearest friend. But your affair with this other woman makes me wonder whether you can be true to one woman at all." She half expected him to jump up and leave. To her surprise, he considered her accusation. "I have asked that question myself, Harriet. I believe I would be true to my wife." Harriet pulled back her veil and looked into his eyes, studying him. "I want to believe you," she said in the end. "It is in fact very tempting to believe you." "Harriet, I have stayed true to you for over a year after we declared ourselves. Your image before my eyes and the prospect of returning to you was all I needed to resist the temptations." "There were temptations?" "Well there was Lucy Gutteridge and her consort, Clarissa Durning, and a shipload of other women who would have done anything to escape deportation. I did not even think of them in that way." "You would not have succeeded with Miss Durning anyway," Harriet answered dryly, "I know for a fact that she preferred female company." Tony looked at her, surprised. That was almost the old Harriet, witty and indiscreet. A moment later, Harriet realised it, too, and she managed a smile. "There is still something about you that makes me behave improperly," she stated. "I shouldn't have said this." "My my, Lucy is full of surprises," Tony marvelled, "but she is indomitable. One has to admire her for that." He looked at Harriet candidly. "The fact that you know this tells me that you have found her friendship, too?" Harriet blushed deeply. "It just happened. I swear I did not mean to," she whispered. "Harriet, loneliness is terrible. You were lonely, and you needed the comfort of another human. I do not judge you. Far from that. I can appreciate that Lucy would be hard to resist, even for a woman. We have both made a clean slate. I would like for us to start over, let bygones be bygones. Don't answer me now! Think about it. There is no rush. I'll be sailing soon, but I would like to write to you regularly. Will you answer me?" "Of course," she smiled, her inbred optimism claiming the upper hand. "We shall work things out and be the stronger for it." Tony took her gloved hand and kissed it lightly. Suddenly, Harriet jerked her hand back. "Oh, dear god, what about Anita? We cannot pretend that she is not in your life." Tony smiled grimly. "Anita is following her own agenda. She already told me that she would be my paramour only." "But she loves you! She was so nervous about you showing at her premiere." "Yes, Harriet, Anita loves me in her way. But she will not allow that love to compromise what is her real fulfilment. Haven't you seen her during the curtains after the last act? When I saw her, how she bathed in her success and the applause, I knew she would never give that up to be a housewife. Anita has made her choice, and I for one respect her wishes." "But will you tell her about us?" Tony nodded solemnly. "I have to. Don't worry, she will still be your friend." "I hope that, I could not stand losing her friendship." Just then, Lady Lambert entered. "Would you care to join us for lunch?" she asked sweetly. "Or would you rather be alone." Harriet looked at Tony and then at her mother. "No, mother, we are fine. Let us eat." After lunch, Tony bade farewell to his hosts and to Harriet. He returned to the Clyde. Lt. Fortescue met him at the port. "A messenger from the Admiralty delivered an envelope an hour ago, Sir. I sent a messenger to Sir Richard Lambert's house." "And the envelope?" "On your desk, Sir." "Thank you, Mr. Fortescue," Tony answered and went into his cabin. On his desk, in a heavy linen envelope weighted with musket balls, were the new orders. Breaking the seal, Tony found just two pages with a short order to join Sir Robert Calder's squadron which blockaded Rochefort and Ferrol, two minor French and Spanish ports. This was a disappointment. Blockade service was dull and left little room to excel. At least, it was Calder's squadron. Calder sent his ships to port from time to time. The Channel Fleet, by contrast, had not been in port for more than a year; they received provisions and fresh water by special ships. Still, he would have to stock his cabin with as many provisions as possible for a long blockade service. He called for the purser and instructed him to take special care to obtain fresh provisions of good quality. His own steward was instructed to purchase live animals, chicken, a hog and rabbits, to break the monotony of preserved food. Together with his 1st lieutenant, Tony then discussed the spare parts needed during a protracted service in the stormy Bay of Biscay. When he had satisfied himself that all the necessary preparations had been set into effect, he sat down at his desk to write a letter to Harriet, telling her of his new destination. She would know how to address letters to him, no doubt. Another letter informed Mrs. Blacket of the fact that he would be absent for a prolonged period. In the evening, he went to visit Anita. She opened the door herself to his knocking and hugged him affectionately. They went to her living room. "Anita, I have just received my orders. We'll sail day after tomorrow at the latest." Anita reacted calmly. "Can you tell me your destination?" Tony smiled wryly. "Blockade service in the Bay of Biscay." "That's bad, isn't it?" "Yes and no. It's relatively close to home, but it's a hard service. Thank god, it is spring already." "Poor man! Is there time for us tonight so I can console you?" Tony was surprised. Anita had been withdrawn, recently. He smiled in response. "I should tell you a few things before." "And what is it that you have to tell me?" "I met Harriet today. I was at her parents', and she showed up surprisingly. She was with James Palmer and his parents. He asked for permission to marry McTaggart's daughter." "He proposed to Moira?" Anita asked delightedly. "Yes, he did. His father looked like he had to eat a live frog, but James Palmer has his own head. I like the man as much as I despised his brother." "So you talked to Harriet?" Anita asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic. "Yes. After the Palmers left, Harriet stayed for lunch and we had a chance to talk." "Are you reconciled now?" "Not yet, not completely at least. You see, I made a clean slate myself and told her of my life during the past two years." "Oh, you told her about the mysterious Spanish beauty?" Tony nodded. "I guess it piqued Harriet that I enjoyed myself while she was stuck with that horrible man. She will need time to come to terms with the facts." Anita gave him a wry smile. "I take it that you both aim for a complete reconciliation?" Tony held Anita by her arms and looked into her hazel eyes. "Anita, I love to be with you, I feel a rare harmony between us. For a while, I hoped that you could be my promise for the future. But you said it yourself, and I have accepted it, that your future is on the stage. Harriet, by contrast, needs somebody to heal her wounds, just like I need somebody to start a family. I am twenty-seven years old, but if I died tomorrow, there would be nothing left of me in this world." "This bothers you, doesn't it." "Yes. But there is more. I still feel love when I look at Harriet. She has been in my head for nine years, and the feeling is still strong. Anita, can you understand that?" Anita nodded, her eyes suddenly moist. "Tony, for the last two months I have worked to this end. I have encouraged Harriet to talk to you. I have tricked you into seeing her. I am happy for Harriet and for you. But this also means that I will lose you to her. I cannot help feeling jealousy." "I can understand that. I have mixed feelings, too. You mean a lot to me, Anita. I cannot help it if we have different perspectives on life." Anita nodded. "I think you had better say farewell now," she said softly. "Yes. Anita, I do not want to lose your friendship." "Don't worry, you won't. But I need to be alone now. Take good care of yourself." "I will. Farewell, dear." He kissed the cheek she offered and left. Anita was a riddle to him. She had explicitly told him that he was her paramour and nothing more. She had manoeuvred him into seeing Harriet again. And yet, she was disappointed now that her plot had worked. Maybe it was the fact that their affair had ended when she was not yet ready for it, Tony mused. ------- Harriet returned home more than three hours after leaving with the Broughams, only to be bombarded with questions from Moira and Lucy. "Easy, you two," she smiled, "nothing is amiss. I had to talk to somebody at my parent's home, about a few things. Moira, do not fret! Of course my father consented." Moira exhaled deeply. Lucy, on the other hand, felt that something had been left unsaid. "Harriet, who have you been talking to?" Harriet cast her eyes on the floor before she looked into Lucy's. "Captain Carter was at my parents'. Mother claims she did not expect me which is probably true. So, when James left, she left us alone." "And?" Lucy asked hopefully. "Lucy, what do you expect? That we fell into each other's arms? No, but we had a long talk. And we made a clean slate, both of us. There are a few things he told me that I have to come to grips with." Those things, of course, were Tony's open admission that he'd had affairs with three women in the last year. She knew that her jealousy was stupid. She had been married happily for all Tony knew, but she was bothered. It took her some reflection to realise that she felt envy. He had obviously enjoyed himself while she had been stuck in a loveless marriage. She resented that he had felt happiness while she suffered. "Well, we talked and we will talk some more in the future. Right now, he is to sail to join the squadron that blockades La Rochelle, and I am in mourning. So we have time." And that was all that was said. Over the next weeks and months, the three women settled into a quiet life. Occasionally, a letter arrived from Andrew Lambert or James Palmer, who both were at sea again. Once, a letter arrived for Harriet, and when she saw the handwriting on the envelope, she became pale and rushed to her room to read it. She returned hours later with a freshly sealed envelope. Lucy could see that it was addressed to Sir Anthony Carter, C.B., HMS Clyde. It was in the spring of 1805 when bad news arrived in London. A French squadron, under Admiral Villeneuve's command, had escaped from Toulon, right under Admiral Nelson's nose. It was obviously headed for the Caribbean and Nelson followed in hot pursuit. On the other side of the channel, all along the French coast, the emperor Napoleon had assembled a huge number of landing vessels and a large army, ready to invade England. All he needed was the command of the channel for two or three days, and Villeneuve's squadron was large enough to threaten the English squadrons that blockaded the ports of Brest and La Rochelle. In addition, Spain had declared war again, and the Spanish fleet was still a force to be reckoned with. People were worried. The news became worse. Returning from the Caribbean, Villeneuve had come across a smaller British force, commanded by Vice Admiral Sir Robert Calder. Although superior in number, the French refused battle, and Calder was only able to capture two French ships in the ensuing, running fight. The rest escaped, mainly because Calder was anxious to resume the blockade of La Rochelle before the French forces in that harbour could escape. The British public was in an uproar. For the press, Calder had shied from a decisive battle, and only a victorious battle could restore safety for England. For days, the newspapers screamed for Calder's head. It was late August, and as usual, Harriet and her friends scanned the newspapers for information. After all, Harriet was an Admiral's daughter, and both her friends were promised to navy officers. The large headline on the front page of the Morning Chronicle was the first they saw on that morning: "Clyde Frigate (44) Captures French Ship of the Line (80)!" Harriet's heart made a leap. That was Anthony's ship! She continued to read the subtitle, and the colour drained from her face. "Heroic Captain Mortally Wounded" "Oh my god, Harriet," Lucy wailed, "sit, let me hold you." Harriet had sunk into a chair. There was no blood in her face, and her eyes were glazed over. Her mouth formed silent words. Then, Moira spoke up. "Wait, here's The Times: ' ... the wounded captain of HMS Clyde, Sir Anthony Carter, CB, arrived in Portsmouth and is reportedly in stable condition. We join his friends and family in their prayers for the speedy recovery of this hero... ' Harriet, he's still alive." Harriet woke from her stupor. "Lucy, have the coach readied! I need to pack. I am going to Portsmouth, this hour." "We'll come with you, of course," Lucy said and Moira nodded. They were almost finished with their preparations when Sir Richard Lambert arrived. He hugged his daughter briefly and held her at arms length. "I see that you have received the news. I just saw the report by the First Lieutenant, Mr. Fortescue. Captain Carter received a musket shot to his leg when they closed in on the French ship. He kept fighting until he collapsed for loss of blood. He is alive but in serious condition. You better hurry to see him." Harriet nodded. "I feared that much, father, but I have to go." "Harriet, I have asked Mr. Jonathan Wilkes to accompany you. He is in my coach. He is a member of the Royal Society of Surgeons and probably the best surgeon in London." Harriet hugged her father. "Thank you, father, we will leave within the next minutes. I shall take him along." Sir Richard waved towards his coach and a tall young man in a brown coat emerged. He introduced himself to the women. An impatient Harriet pushed him into her coach, to be followed by Lucy and Moira. Harriet entered last, and the coach lurched forward. ------- Four months before, HMS Clyde used the ebb tide and a westerly wind to sail down river from London and to the North Sea. Against the prevailing westerly winds, Clyde beat westward through the Channel. It took them almost five days to reach Quessant and another four to reach Vice Admiral Sir Robert Calder's squadron, hove to off La Rochelle. Tony reported to his new Commander in Chief in the Prince of Wales. Tony was given the task of commanding a small inshore squadron that kept a close watch of the Charente estuary. The inshore group consisted of two sloops of war and a lesser frigate of 32 guns, HMS Quebec. Another small group kept a close watch of the Galician port of El Ferrol, but Sir Robert and his 15 sail of the line stayed out at sea and out of sight from the shore. For the Clyde, the endless toil of patrolling began. While the sloops stayed close to the bay and watched the shipping from La Rochelle and Rochefort, the two frigates kept a vigil against blockade runners who would be trying to come in from the high seas. They were also ready to assist the small sloops in the case that the French decided to make a short sortie. All this was compounded by the fact that they had to watch a lee coast with the constant peril of a westerly gale trapping them against an enemy shoreline. Captain Carter and his officers knew of the dangers, not only the navigational risks, but also the numbing effect of routine. It was good that spring was in full swing. The weather favoured them. Apart from short squalls of rain, they experienced sunny, if cool, weather. The daily routine of reconnaissance was only interrupted by heated discussions of the impact of Admiral Villeneuve's escape from Toulon. The situation caused no small concern for the officers of ships trapped against a lee coast. What if Villeneuve's fleet forced its way into Rochefort? The four ships of the inshore group would be caught between a rock and a hard place. It was early July, when Phoebe, one of Calder's frigates, approached the coast, bearing dispatches. Sir Robert informed his captains of the fact that he was taking his squadron to head off Villeneuve's fleet. The inshore group was ordered to maintain their vigil as usual. The French were not to learn that the blockade was in effect lifted lest they put to sea and joined Villeneuve's forces. For this purpose, Sir Robert emphasised, it was crucial that no blockade runner was allowed to pass. For three weeks, the two frigates and two sloops maintained the charade of blockading eleven ships of the line. Captain Carter kept his Clyde out of sight from the land to have more sea room, to chase blockade runners. On the morning of the 24th of July, however, this situation came to an end. The Clyde was patrolling between the Ile de Ré and the Ile d'Oleron. The very light north-western wind called for all sails. Still, no more than 5 knots were recorded. When the morning mist lifted, the lookout in the masthead sang out. "Ship ho! Full-rigged ship bearing east-south-east!" Tony was up on deck in an instant. Snatching a telescope, he climbed up the shrouds into the mainmast. When he reached the masthead, the lookout pointed to a sail just over the horizon. Tony trained his telescope on the sail. Years of practise allowed him to hold the telescope steady in spite of the corkscrew motion of the masthead. The strange ship was almost hull up over the horizon. The rigging he saw bespoke a French build. But so did the Clyde's, and that of many other captured French ships which now served in the Royal Navy. But she was none of Sir Robert Calder's ships, and she sailed alone. It could be one of Villeneuve's fleet, trying to make a run for Rochefort. That would explain a certain irregularity in the rigging, as if the ship had sustained damage in a battle. "Mr. Fortescue!" he shouted down to the quarterdeck, "new course ESE." The hands rushed to their stations, and the Clyde tacked. On her new course, the Clyde had the wind abeam and was making the most of the weak breeze. While they closed on the stranger, Tony found his assessment correct. It was a French ship if he had ever seen one. And she had taken punishment, too. Several of her sails showed shot holes. Her fore-topmast was makeshift at best, and she seemed to have barely steerage in the low wind. That would have made her an easy prey for the Clyde, but she was also unmistakably a two-decker ship of the line. It would be frightening odds to go against a 74-gun ship with a mere frigate, even with the Clyde and her main deck 24-pounders. The Frenchman had twice the weight in her broadside, and her timbers would be far more robust. Tony felt the sweat break out on his forehead when he realised that he had no choice but to attack the big ship. The Quebec and the sloops were in the Charente estuary and would be in the path of the Frenchman. More importantly, once the French captain reached Rochefort, the French would know that the blockade was lifted, and they would sortie. The Admiralty would not look favourably upon the officer who allowed another major escape of French ships. No, he had to prevent that ship of the line from reaching Rochefort. And he would have to achieve this out of sight from the shoreline lest he alerted the French that there were no big English ships in the offing. Tony had no illusion that this could well be his end, in fact, a sense of foreboding overcame him while he climbed down to the deck. He put his face into a rigid mask. More than everything, he, like most of his contemporaries, feared nothing more than to show fear. "Mr. Fortescue," he said casually, "kindly have the ship cleared for action." A split second later, the pipes shrilled through the ship, and the drums rolled. Within six minutes, a swimming living environment transformed into a fighting machine. The cooking fires were extinguished, the bulkheads were removed, the decks were strewn with sand, and the guns were cleared. Tony nodded approvingly when Mr. Fortescue reported the ship ready for action. "Have the guns loaded and run out, if you please, Mr. Fortescue." The powder monkeys, young boys on their first voyage, ran from the powder magazine with charges, and the gun captains carefully selected round shot for the first broadside. Once loaded, the guns were run out. By now, the big Frenchman could be seen from the deck, and the experienced men groaned when they saw what they would be up against. Up close, it became clear that she was no mere 74, but an 80-gun ship. Tony felt the need for a pep talk. He seized the speaking trumpet. "You officers and men, we must keep this Frenchman from reaching Rochefort at all costs! If the French learn that our big ships are gone, they will come out. That Villeneuve guy already has twenty sail of the line. With the eleven in Rochefort, he can drive away the Channel Fleet and cover the French Army while they land in England. It depends on us to prevent that. It may not be that bad. Look at the French ship already! She's got a licking from Sir Robert's ships, and she sails like a wet sponge. Be quick with the braces, aim true with your guns, and we'll teach the Frogs a lesson yet. Here come ten thousand pounds prize money!" The men did not cheer, they could not be deceived, but he noticed how they set their jaws grimly. He saw how gun crews embraced each other while other men said short prayers. This was the spirit he wanted! The Frenchman was less than three miles away now. John Little appeared beside Tony and brought him the Toledo sword and his two pistols. Tony took off his coat. No need to give the French soldiers a hint at who to shoot at. He watched the French ship for any signs of changing course, but the big ship maintained her course. Watching closely, he saw that she was lying a bit deep in the water. He smiled grimly. She was waterlogged, probably had shot holes under the waterline. That meant, a part of her crew had to work the pumps. Indeed, he saw water gushing over her sides in a constant stream. And she would be sluggish. That was why her captain maintained his course. If he steered closer to the wind, he would be as slow as to lose steerage. The ships were a mile apart now. "Mr. Fortescue, we will point up in a minute. Have the larboard battery ready. We'll try to rake him when we pass his bows." Fortescue grinned in excitement. "Aye aye, Sir!" Tony had another look at the compass and at the sails. "Ready by the braces!" he roared. "Quartermaster! Four points to starboard! Steady as she goes. Gun captains! Open fire as you find a target!" The Clyde, in a surprise move, now crossed the bows of the French ship, while the guns of her broadside raked her from bow to stern. Once the last shot of the quarterdeck carronades had been fired, Tony barked his orders again. "Helm a-lee. Man the braces!" The Clyde tacked, and when she reached her new course, the French ship was on her starboard side, a pistol shot away. Both broadsides roared while the ships held parallel courses. "Fire away, men!" Tony yelled through his speaking trumpet. At this short distance, he could give free rein to his disciplined gun crews. The next broadside was ragged already, as each gun crew loaded and fired as fast as they could. Only when the third broadside was fired by the Clyde did the French answer with their second. The round shot smashed into the Clyde like an iron hammer, and she keeled over under the impact. No guns were disabled, though, and the rigging was intact. They were exchanging two broadsides for one; the experienced and rested British crew had a clear advantage. Still, the sheer weight of the French broadsides made the Clyde stagger. It was time to make use of the superior speed of his ship. On Tony's order, the topgallants were hoisted again, and the Clyde overreached on the French ship. Once they were clear and the firing ceased, Tony had the helm put to port, and the Clyde crossed the bow of the Frenchman once more, raking her with the starboard guns. Even above the roar of the guns, a splintering crash could be heard. The enemy's foremast had been hit, six to eight feet above the deck. Fore-topmast and stay sails collapsed over the side. The enormous sea anchor caused the French battleship to turn into the wind immediately. Tony saw his opportunity. At his orders, the Clyde turned to starboard and slowly crossed the exposed stern, her starboard battery spouting fire. Immediately, the Clyde came around before the wind and crossed the stern of the French ship again, this time hammering her with the fresh port side battery. The French were desperately trying to clear the wreckage of the fore-topmast. They could bring no guns to bear, but they maintained a lively musket fire from their taffrail until a grapeshot from one of the Clyde's quarterdeck carronades exploded among them. Only one soldier was left standing. Tony saw a puff of smoke, and then his leg was almost knocked from under him. The bullet had hit him in the left thigh. Setting his teeth, he tested the leg. The bone seemed unbroken. He had to carry on. Victory was too close to waste time. "Helm to port!" he ordered, once again bringing the Clyde before the wind and hammering into the already battered stern. It was time to bring the Clyde around once more. Looking down, Tony saw that he was standing in a pool of blood, his own blood. He felt his strength drain from him. "Get a surgeon's mate up here to stop the bleeding," he hissed at Samuel Wilson, who was on the quarterdeck. The boy ran away. Tony stood there, watching his blood seeping down his leg. So this was how it felt when one was dying, he thought. And then, an overwhelming regret filled him that he would never see Harriet again. He thought of Anita, too, but then Harriet's image blocked everything out. "Look, Sir!" Lt. Fortescue pulled at Tony's shirt sleeve. "He's had enough! He's hauling down the colours!" Tony tried to clear his head. Fortescue was right. The French had found themselves in a hopeless situation, with the Clyde raking them as she pleased. The heavy fire from the Clyde had caused mayhem on the gun decks, and the officer in command had decided to save the life of the remainder of his crew. This was victory, sweet victory. Tony felt relief. Now he could sit down. He was so tired. Carefully, he tried to lower himself on the blood soaked planks. He heard shouts around him, and then he noticed to his amazement that he was lying face down in a puddle of blood. That was the last he saw before he fainted. ------- Captain Anthony Carter came to slowly, and he found himself lying in his cot and in his cabin. He tried to turn his head but found that he was too weak. Trying to call for his steward, only a whisper came forth. Nevertheless, he was noticed. The huge frame of John Little loomed over him. "You be careful Sir, and don't move. I call Mr. Fortescue." A minute later, the 1st lieutenant bent over Tony's bed. "Sir, are you awake?" Tony nodded feebly, unable to speak. "Thank god! Listen, Sir, you have been unconscious for two days. We have captured the Frenchman, Sir. She's the L'Alceste, an 80-gun ship. We're bringing both ships into Portsmouth. Another day, and we'll be there. Mr. Hooker has a hard time keeping the prize afloat. We've been holed twice under the waterline, too, but we stopped the holes with a furled sail. You must hold on now, Sir. Once we reach Portsmouth, a doctor will take care of you." Something was left unsaid, Tony knew. "Sykes?" he whispered. "He is in irons, Sir. He was dead drunk even before the first wounded were brought below. Cummings and Rogers, the surgeon's mates, did what they could, but we lost many men. I'll see that drunkard swing at the yardarm, I swear!" "How many dead?" Tony whispered again. "Thirty seven, Sir. Fifty-two wounded. Twelve of them are doing duty anyway. We met the Calypso yesterday. She is escorting us, and Captain Truscott is helping us out with some crew and marines to guard the Frogs. I shall leave you now, Sir. You must rest. Giles has some food and drink ready for you." The meat broth Giles fed him had to be the best-tasting food he ever had. The watered Madeira wine awakened his spirits as well, but that was short lived. He fell asleep as soon as he had finished the meal. When he woke again, he felt much better. He could move his head now. The burning lantern told him that it was night. John Little seemed huge in the dim light, but he helped him to sit up a little and fed him some bread and some more watered wine. After that he slept like a baby. He was awakened again when the morning watch was called. For the first time, he had the presence of mind to check his leg. He remembered that he had been shot. He tried to move the leg, but pain shot through it at the slightest movement. That was good. At least, they had not taken it off. Giles appeared with breakfast. He had butchered the last of Tony's chickens and served his captain chicken roast and fresh coffee. More than anything, the coffee brought life into Tony again. He was able to listen to his 1st lieutenant's report. When Mr. Fortescue asked him for his orders, Tony smiled. "No, Mr. Fortescue. You will command the ship while we anchor in Portsmouth. And you can report to the Harbour Admiral. I'll dictate my part of the report up to the point where I fainted. You will write the second half over your own name." "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Fortescue beamed. This was his big break! He would command the anchoring, he would report to the admiral, and he would have his own report which would certainly be printed in the Naval Gazette. For the first time in his career, he saw promotion within his reach. As if on cue, the lookout yelled "Land ho!" at precisely the same moment. "We better get ready, then," Tony grimaced. "Send me the secretary." For the next hour, Tony dictated his report of the engagement from memory, up to the point where the French struck their colours. He felt strangely distant to the events. The only thing that was still real in his mind was the sense of foreboding he had felt. It was uncanny how he had felt the impending danger. Perhaps, he should pay attention to his instincts in the future. But what could he have done? Once they sighted the Frenchman, there was really but one path to follow. Then he remembered the French captain. He should have asked for his adversary's health. He asked the secretary whether he knew the fate of the French commander and was told that he had been killed when the Clyde crossed the L'Alceste's stern for the third time. So they were both shot at the same time, Tony mused. Later that afternoon, Clyde and her prize worked their way up the Spithead and into Portsmouth harbour. When he heard the splash of the anchor, Tony felt enormous relief. He had been vindicated by the outcome of the risk he had taken. He heard the call for the gig, and he guessed that Fortescue was rushing to the Harbour Admiral to make his report. An hour must have passed, when there was a knock on the cabin door. Giles opened and an elderly gentleman in an expensive coat approached Tony's cot. "I am Dr. Caldecott, at your service. Mr. Fortescue has alerted me of your condition and I rushed here to assist you. I am a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, by the way. Now, let us have a look at that leg of yours." The efficient, bony fingers carefully removed the blood-stained bandage. Tony flinched only once. The wound, or what he saw of it, was still open with fluid seeping out of it. After inspecting the wound, Dr. Caldecott renewed the dressing with fresh linen strips he had brought. "Sir Anthony, the bullet is still in the wound. I suspect that pieces of your breeches have been carried into the wound, too. For you to make a full recovery, they must be removed. Do you have a home in Portsmouth?" "Yes, Mr. Little here knows the way. It's just off High Street." Dr. Caldecott snipped his fingers. "You bought Woolsley's house?" Tony nodded. "I have a housekeeper to look after me there, and my steward and Mr. Little here." "I suggest we transport you to your house. In the morning, when the light will be good, I will remove the musket ball and search for other foreign material." Under the direction of the doctor, two surgeon's mates tied Tony tightly to a plank. He was carried on the deck. While they waited for the cutter to be lowered, Tony looked into the worn and tired faces of his crew who watched him silently. When he was lowered into the cutter, though, the watch free men manned the shrouds and cheered him. "An impressive display of loyalty, Captain," Dr. Caldecott remarked. At the quay, Tony on his plank was transferred onto a cart. Giles and Mr. Little carefully pushed the cart over the cobble stones, while the rest of the cutter's crew carried his dunnage. Mrs. Blacket proved her worth once they reached Tony's house. After just a short outbreak of dismay, she helped the men settle Tony in his bed. She was then given instructions for the night by Dr. Caldecott. The doctor left, as did the boat's crew, save for John Little who stayed with Giles, the steward. The two men took turns during the night, keeping watch over their captain, while Mrs. Blacket provided all three men with the best food she could produce. Tony ate sparingly. He knew that a full stomach was a bad idea if one faced surgery. The thought of Dr. Caldecott probing in his flesh was worse even than the prospect of a battle. He knew that he would feel an excruciating pain in a few hours, and that knowledge was unsettling. Again, he masked his apprehension under a veneer of quiet composure. The cheerful appearance of the doctor when he came early on the next morning was almost too much for Tony. But Dr. Caldecott was no butcher like most Navy surgeons. As a civilian surgeon he had to make sure that his patients survived and recommended him. He therefore was careful to cause as little pain as possible. "Captain, this will be quite painful." Tony nodded with a grim smile. "However, there are ways to reduce the pain considerably. Now, I will give you a strong dose of laudanum to calm you and to block the worst of the pain. I have also added an extract of hops cones, to ease your apprehension. You will probably sleep the whole day as a result which is not a bad idea to begin with, seeing that your wound will hurt considerably." Tony grimaced at the bitter taste of the hops, but it did not take long for him to drift into a deep sleep-like state. He somehow still noticed the manipulations of Dr. Caldecott, he even felt the pain, but he was detached from his body and did not mind it. It was dark when he awoke from his drugged slumber. A woman in black sat beside his bed in a chair, reading in the light of a candle. Tony found it strange that Mrs. Blacket had dyed her hair red. She must have grown, too. Only slowly, Tony's addled brain regained its function. Then the woman in the chair looked up. "Harriet!" Tony croaked. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 12: A Knight and his Lady Portsmouth, August 1805 The coach ride in the hot August sun would have been exhausting under any circumstances, but the sweat in her eyes and under her black dress was nothing against the nagging worries Harriet Palmer felt. Lucy, at her side, did her best to comfort Harriet with her indomitable optimism. Even the stiff Dr. Wilkes had valiantly tried to dissuade her worries, telling her that loss of blood was something most men recovered from under good care. But it was to no avail. Harriet was beyond reason; the shock of this morning's news was sitting too deep. "Portsmouth, Madam!" the driver shouted over the creaking of the springs and the clatter of the horse's hooves. "The Navy Yard!" Harriet commanded. The noises changed once they entered the town. The ironclad wheels rattled over the cobbled stones. Harriet could smell the water already, even before the coach lurched to a stand still at the gates of the Navy Yard. Unceremoniously, Harriet climbed from the coach and approached the guards. "I am Harriet Palmer, daughter of Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. I need to speak with Sir Charles Foster." "Over there, Madam, in the Harbour Admiral's Quarters," the guard pointed. Harriet rushed to the big stone building and asked the guard at the entrance to announce her. Sir Charles himself came out to welcome her. "My dear Harriet! It is a pleasure to see you. What brings you here?" Sir Charles was an old friend of the Lamberts, and he had known Harriet from childhood. "I came to visit Captain Carter, Sir Charles. Where can I find him? Is he in the infirmary?" "As far as I know, he was transported to his house yesterday. Mr. Fortescue, his 1st lieutenant, assured me that he is well taken care of. Mr. Fortescue retained the services of the best surgeon in Portsmouth." "Do you know Captain Carter's address? Please, I need to see him." "Better than that, I will show you in person. Captain Carter's house is close to my own on High Street. Let me order my coach." "No need for that, Sir Charles. My coach is waiting outside." "Then let us go," 'Dreadnought' Foster said amiably. "Flags, tell my coachman to pick me up at home in two hours." The last words were directed at the flag lieutenant. The admiral offered his arm to Harriet, and together they walked through the afternoon heat to Harriet's coach. Introductions were performed quickly, and then the coach, under the able direction of an experienced navigator, rattled over the streets towards High Street. At the small cul-de-sac that led towards the house of Captain Carter, the coach stopped at Sir Charles' order, and he showed them the three story building before he walked the short distance to his own mansion. Followed by her entourage, Harriet walked the short way and up the four steps to the entrance. She did not know what to expect, and the anxiety made her heart miss a few beats. At last, she composed herself as best she could and knocked with the heavy brass ring. A minute later, a petite woman opened the door. Harriet nearly fainted. The woman wore black! "Yes madam?" "My name is Harriet Palmer. I am a friend of Captain Carter, and I learned this morning that he was gravely wounded. Is it possible to see him?" "Madame, 'e 'ad surgery zis morning and 'e is sleeping. Ze doctor said 'e would sleep all day." "He is alive then? May I see him, please? You see, Mrs... , I am most sorry, I don't know your name." "I am Sir Anthony's 'ousekeeper, Nadine Blacket, madame." "Thank you, Mrs. Blacket. Could I see him? I brought a surgeon from London, Dr. Wilkes, to help." "I zink I can let you see 'im, but ze doctor, 'e must wait for Dr. Caldecott. 'E will visit later zis afternoon." Dr. Wilkes bowed. "That is understood. In fact, I know my esteemed colleague, Dr. Caldecott. He is a member of the Royal College of Surgeons in London like me and a student of the great John Hunter. Captain Carter could have hardly found a better surgeon." Mrs. Blacket nodded. "Zen, would you please come in? I am sure ze Captain will not mind. Zis way to ze tea room, if you please. Do you wish for refreshments?" Harriet almost stomped her feet with impatience. "Madame, please follow me." With Mrs. Blacket in the lead, they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Mrs. Blacket peeped into Tony's bedroom first, and then she allowed Harriet in. The sight of the unconscious Anthony Carter and the deathly pale under his mahogany skin made Harriet's eyes brim with tears. "Oh my god," she sobbed, "will he live?" Mrs. Blacket heard the anguish in Harriet's voice, and she guessed that Harriet felt more than friendship for the wounded. The visitor's widow's garb added to the sympathy she felt for the strange woman. "Dr. Caldecott said ze Captain will be fine. 'E lost a lot of blood, but 'e is sleeping from ze drugs against ze pain, madame. Ze doctor said not to worry." Harriet nodded. "May I sit with him?" "Of course. You may want to take off zat veil, madam. You do not want to scare 'im when 'e wakes up." Harriet smiled ruefully. "You are right, of course. Thank you." "I shall bring you some refreshments." Mrs. Blacket left, and Harriet moved to sit on the side of Tony's bed. She was at a loss what to do now. Gathering her courage, she reached out and took a hold of his left hand. It seemed cold to her, in spite of the summer heat, and she pressed it against her bosom, fervently hoping to lend her strength to him. With her free hand, she caressed his bearded face, speaking to him in a soothing tone. She did not know how long she had been sitting like this, when she heard a knock on the door. An elderly gentleman entered, followed by Dr. Wilkes. "I am Dr. Caldecott, and you must be Mrs. Palmer?" "Indeed I am, Dr. Caldecott. Please forgive my breach of etiquette. I did not know whether competent help would be available, and my father thought it best for me to bring Dr. Wilkes along." "Do not worry about etiquette for one minute, Madam. Dr. Wilkes and I have already discussed the case, and we are in full agreement. He has agreed to help me out in the present state of need. You see, I have to take care of more than 200 wounded sailors, British and French, for whom there was no adequate care. I can only thank you and your father for bringing my colleague." "From what Dr. Caldecott told me," Dr. Wilkes chimed in, "the surgery went very well. He was able to extract the bullet and shreds of clothing which may otherwise have caused mortification of the wound." "The young lady who accompanied you, Miss Gutteridge has advised me that powdered Geranium root may serve to stop the bleeding, and we have agreed to try it to prevent further loss of blood. We surgeons are only too ready to ignore the benefits of herbal medicine as practised in the countryside. I, for one, find it a helpful addition to the surgeon's arsenal," Dr. Caldecott added pontifically. "Where is Lucy then?" Harriet asked. "Off to a herbalist," Dr. Caldecott answered. "She is trying to get yarrow leaves, comfrey roots and barberry bark. I allowed her to apply them. It appears that she had substantial training from her father." "Now let us have a look at the leg," Dr. Wilkes suggested. "Perhaps, Madam, it were better if you left the room for a minute." Harriet considered this. "If you don't mind, I would like to stay and help. I assure you that I will not faint." "As you wish, Madam. I would have asked Mrs. Blacket to help. I want you to be ready with that washcloth and basin to clean around the wound." Harriet nodded and steeled herself when Dr. Caldecott took off the bandage from the wounded leg. The first impression was horrible, and Harriet had to close her eyes for a second to regain her composure. The whole thigh was terribly bruised, looking almost black. The wound, freshly reopened, oozed blood and pus in small quantities. At a sign from Dr. Caldecott, Harriet wiped off the wound excretions. Then, the two surgeons took turns to sniff at the wound. "Excellent," Dr. Wilkes opined. "Perfect," was Dr. Caldecott's opinion. "No smell of gangrene at all. We will have to watch this for a few days, but I am quite confident in the Captain's full recovery." "You must show me tomorrow how you probe for musket balls, Dr. Caldecott," Wilkes added, "I see barely any damage from your probing." "Certainly, certainly, we will have more than one patient tomorrow where I can demonstrate my technique." Harriet interrupted the exchange. "So there is hope for his recovery?" "I am quite positive, Madam, that he will make a full recovery. That leg will no doubt bother him for quite a while, and then some more during bad weather, but apart from that he will be as good as new." "I must thank you both for your help. This lifts a load from my soul." "I take it, Madam, that you have a personal interest in the patient?" Harriet could only nod. "He is twice lucky then, Madam," Dr. Caldecott said cheerfully. "Dr. Wilkes will be back tonight to have another look. But I guess we can take our leave now." The two surgeons left, and Harriet resumed her position on the side of the bed. A few times, Tony moved slightly, and once or twice, his face showed a grimace of pain. Then Harriet would stroke his forehead soothingly. Mrs. Blacket came in later and apologised profusely for not having brought the promised refreshments. She set a table with fresh bread rolls and jam on a table, and Harriet realised just how hungry she was. Lucy and Moira came into the room, too, and while Harriet was eating, Lucy made a poultice of crushed yarrow leaves and applied it to Tony's leg wound. She was a bit shaken when she washed her hands. "This looks really bad," she said and then realised what she had said. "I'm sorry, Harriet, don't worry, I just wanted to say that it is horrible to look at." Harriet nodded. "Don't worry, Lucy, both doctors have assured me that he will recover." "Harriet," Moira started, "shouldn't somebody send a note to Miss Heyworth? She must have seen the papers, too." "Oh dear God!" Harriet gasped. "How could I be so thoughtless!" "Be reasonable, Harriet, you were scared out of your mind this morning," Lucy said. "I will write a note and ask Sir Charles to have it sent to London. He will do me the favour." Harriet went downstairs to ask for paper and an inkwell. When Mrs. Blacket had shown her a desk, she sat down and wrote a short letter. Dearest Anita, on hearing the news of Anthony being severely wounded in battle, we rushed to Portsmouth to ascertain his fate. I am overjoyed to inform you that he will, in all likelihood, make a full recovery from his wound. He underwent surgery this morning at the hands of a very competent surgeon, to have the musket ball removed, and he is still sleeping from the heavy dose of laudanum he was given. Both surgeons are upbeat about his prospects. We, that is Lucy, Moira, and I, are staying at his home where his housekeeper, Mrs. Blacket, is taking excellent care of our needs. I will keep you informed of his recovery. Please excuse my thoughtlessness. On reading the news, I thought of nothing but to rush to Portsmouth. I should have informed you before we left, I know, but I was beside myself, as you may imagine. Please forgive me! Always your friend Harriet She sealed the envelope, wrote Anita's address on in and put it in a second envelope with her father's name on it. She wrote a short billet to Sir Charles, asking him to include the envelope into the London mail bag, care of Sir Richard Lambert. She gave the letter to her driver to deliver it to the Harbour Admiral's office. That done, she thanked Mrs. Blacket, and went upstairs to resume her vigil at Tony's bedside. She was determined to be at his side when he woke up. Her patience was tested thoroughly. Later in the evening, Mrs. Blacket persuaded her to sit in an upholstered chair beside the bed, and she produced a candle holder so that Harriet was able to read. The house became quiet. Lucy was asleep in a chaise longue across the room, but Harriet maintained her watch. Yet, she must have dozed off for a second when she heard a weak exclamation that made her wide awake. "Harriet!" Quickly, she sat on the side of Tony's bed and took his hands into hers. "Yes it's me, Tony. How do you feel, darling?" "Water?" "Yes, certainly!" In her haste, she nearly knocked over the water jug, but she poured a glass and supported his head while he drank. "Thank you," he croaked. "Darling, the musket ball was removed from your leg. You will be all right." "Where am I?" "In your house, in Portsmouth." "You came here?" "Of course," she said simply. "When I heard of your injury, I came here. If you let me, I'll stay with you as long as you need me." The wild look in his eyes was almost gone when he looked into her eyes. "What if I need you forever?" She pressed his hands while tears were streaming from her eyes. "Then I'll stay with you forever." "This is good," he said, closing his eyes. Then he opened them again and smiled weakly. "Yes, very good. You are still here. For a second, I feared I was dreaming. Hold my hands, my darling girl." And she held his hands. His breathing became regular again. He was asleep. "Is everything all right?" Harriet almost jumped out of her skin. She had not noticed Lucy who was standing beside her. "God, Lucy, you scared me! Yes, everything will be fine. I will stay here." "You need to sleep, Harriet. You cannot sit in this chair all night." "No Lucy, I am saying that I will stay here, with Anthony. I will never leave him again." "Now, don't be silly. You still have a half year of mourning. And you just cannot live in an unmarried man's household." "I know, Lucy. I will rent lodgings in Portsmouth until we can marry. I just won't let anything go wrong this time." "All right, Harriet, you will stay here, and I'll stay with you. One of these days, Andrew must come to harbour." "Poor Andrew! Cornwallis lets not one of his ships sail to port. When did you receive his last letter?" "Three weeks ago already. I will kill Admiral Cornwallis." "How can you kill him when he never sails to port, silly? Father says that Cornwallis' way to blockade the French completely will do them as much damage as beating them in battle. There are reports that more than two thirds of the French crews have never been to sea. Even some officers have never sailed in open waters." "And what good does it do to us? Or rather to me? I haven't seen Andrew in more than a year! What if he forgets me?" Harriet stood up carefully and hugged her friend. "Lucy, nobody who met you will ever forget you!" "You are right, I am not worried about Andrew, but I miss him. Now, Harriet, I want you to lie down on that chaise longue. It is really comfortable, and you will get some sleep. In the meantime, I will watch over your future husband. I promise to wake you if he wakes up." "Thank you, Lucy, dear. I guess I am tired." And indeed, she had hardly reclined on the chaise longue when the day's exertions took their toll and she fell asleep. ------- Tony woke up to the first rays of the rising sun that crept through the gaps between the curtains. Slumped on a chair beside his bed he saw a blonde woman who was snoring lightly. As soon as he opened his eyes, though, a splitting ache shot through his head, and he felt sick. Groaning, he blinked his eyes in the hope that the pain would go away. With a jerk, the woman awoke and lifted her head. Tony recognised Lucy Gutteridge. "Good morning," she whispered, "how do you feel?" "My head is killing me. But what are you doing here? Where am I?" "In your bed. Moira and I came with Harriet to help her. Harriet is sleeping now. Listen, I have prepared willow bark tea. It's cold, but it should still help against your head ache. How does your leg feel?" "It hurts a little, but not as much as my head." Lucy produced a cup with a cold yellowish liquid. "Drink this now, it will help you. I put in some sugar, it should not taste too bad." Tony tried. While he drank, he noticed how thirsty he was. He emptied the cup in one draught and asked for water. Lucy poured water in the cup and he drank it empty again. He felt a little better already, but there was another problem. His bladder was fit to burst. "Miss Lucy, I need to relieve myself. Is Giles there? He has helped me before." "No need for him. Can you turn on your side? Fine. Now take this bottle here, Dr. Caldecott left it for that purpose. Can you manage? Fine, I'll leave you alone." Turned halfway onto his good right side, Tony managed to direct his stream into the wide-mouthed bottle. It took an eternity from him to empty his bladder. When he was finished, Lucy took the bottle without ado and brought it outside. When she returned, she washed her hands in a basin on the wash stand. Coming back to his side she poured him another cup of tea. "Your water is very dark. You need to drink more." Obediently, he drank yet another cup. Whether it was the willow bark tea or the fact that he had slacked his thirst, he felt his head ache much reduced. Just then, Mrs. Blacket, in a robe over her shift, her black hair cascading over her shoulders, showed in the door. "I zought I 'eard somezink. Is 'e awake?" Lucy nodded. "Mrs. Blacket, would it be asking too much for you to prepare a fresh mint tea for all of us? He needs to drink more, and we could use something hot as well." "Certainly, Miss Lucy!" the housekeeper smiled, "and would you call me Nadine?" "With pleasure, Nadine," Lucy beamed back. With amazement, Tony noticed how Lucy's presence caused a better mood in everyone. Smiling down at Tony, she shifted her attention to him. "Now, let us have a look at your leg." "What about Dr. Caldecott?" Tony asked. He was not aware of the free rein the doctor had given to Lucy. "He knows and approves of my herbs, don't worry!" Lucy answered cheerfully, while she removed the old poultice. Craning his head as best he could, Tony had his first look at the wound, and he did not like what he saw. "This is bad, isn't it?" he asked through clenched teeth. "Much better, in fact, than yesterday," Lucy smiled. "The yarrow has stopped the festering. I will add some powdered geranium roots today, to help the healing. Just leave the leg open for a minute while I prepare the new poultice, and don't touch it. Your hands are grimy." She left and was gone for a quarter of an hour before she returned with a fresh preparation of leaves and ground roots which she applied to the wound before she renewed the bandage. "Where have you learned this, Lucy?" Tony asked. "You know that my father was an apothecary? Well, he was mostly a herbalist, and I used to help him with the preparations. When he treated farm animals, he would often allow me to administer the treatment. This is how I learned." They had both spoken in low tones, and it was not until this point that Harriet awoke. "Lucy, you promised to wake me," she yawned. "You needed your sleep, Harriet, and our patient is much better already." Harriet smiled affectionately at her friend and sat down on the side of Tony bed. "Good morning, love," she said simply and bent over Tony to kiss him. Her smile widened to a grin. "I've wanted to do that for years." Tony looked at her quizzically. "I had the strangest dream last night. A certain young lady promised to stay with me forever." Harriet nodded. "That was me and it wasn't a dream." Tony smiled at her. "I was just making sure." They were interrupted by Mrs. Blacket who entered with a large tray. "I brought ze tea, and I zought ze captain might want some toast?" "Thank you, Nadine," Lucy said and carried a small table over to Tony's bed where the housekeeper placed the tablet. Harriet gave Mrs. Blacket a grateful smile and poured Tony a cup of steaming mint tea with a liberal helping of sugar. He gratefully accepted. He was even strong enough to hold the cup while Harriet busied herself spreading wonderful golden butter and fresh jam on the toast. "Perhaps we should prop him up a bit," Lucy suggested, and the three women propped him up with additional pillows. "This is a whole new perspective," Tony commented, "I have been lying flat on my back for over a week." With more appetite that he had imagined, he made short work of the toasted bread. "This was good, thank you," he said. "I must profess, though, that I am still hungry." "What would you like zen, Sir Anthony?" Mrs. Blacket asked. "I dream of ham and eggs, but I would settle for porridge." The women laughed at that, delighted at the return of his spirits. "Porridge should be fine, Nadine," Lucy answered, "let us wait with ham and eggs until tomorrow." "I 'ave set ze table for ze ladies downstairs," Mrs. Blacket announced before she left for the kitchens. "I should wake Moira then," Lucy said and left the room. "Moira?" Tony asked. "Both Lucy and Moira McTaggart insisted on coming with me." "You can count yourself lucky to have such good friends." "Oh I do," Harriet answered. "Without Lucy and Anita, I would have lost my mind." "Anita!" Tony interrupted her. "We must notify her that I am fine. I would not want her to worry." "I sent her a letter yesterday, don't worry," Harriet calmed him. "Even if Anita has withdrawn herself in recent months, I still consider her one of my closest friends." "Yes, Anita hasn't taken our reconciliation as lightly as she anticipated." Harriet nodded sagely. "We need to make up with her. I, for once, owe her too much to let our friendship wilt away." Tony agreed. "It would be a pity. She is a wonderful person, and I care for her." They sat silently for a few moments. "You know, you could ask her to be your bridesmaid," Tony grinned. "And, pray, who is it I shall marry?" "Me, or do you have other suitors?" "No, I haven't," Harriet laughed, but then she turned sober. "Do you mean what you said?" "Of course, Harriet, now more than ever. I have seen your loyalty now. I could not hope for a better wife. I know, I should kneel at your feet, but could you overlook this omission and consider my proposal?" "I never wanted another man, Tony. I give you my consent with all my heart." She sat down on his right side and bent forward to kiss him. It was a long kiss that only stopped when Mrs. Blacket cleared her throat from the door. "I 'ave ze porridge. Should I come later?" Harriet and Tony laughed, and Harriet shook her head. "No, please set it down here." "Thank you, Mrs. Blacket. You may expect to see more of Mrs. Palmer kissing me. She is the future mistress of my house." "My felicitations, Madame, Sir Anthony!" Mrs. Blacket responded with a smile. But then a shadow fell on her features. "Will you still need my services in ze future?" "My dear Mrs. Blacket," Harriet answered with warmth, "I would very much like you to continue in our service. I have a trusted maidservant who will likely come with me, but the remainder of my late husband's staff do not have my confidence." Nadine Blacket blushed prettily. "Zank you, Mrs. Palmer. I would like to stay in Sir Anthony's service." She withdrew and Harriet looked at Tony, who had begun to eat his porridge with good appetite. "Tony, I cannot wait to become your wife, but you know that I have yet another half year of mourning to observe?" Tony emptied his mouth. "I know that, Harriet. We will make use of that time to set up out future household." "But what if you have to go to sea again? You will be fit for service in a few weeks, and then you'll be gone again." "Harriet, I have not really thought about this. But I think I will ask for a leave, to recuperate completely and to settle my personal affairs." "You would give up your command?" she asked incredulously. "I do not see another way, Harriet. I do not want anything to go wrong again." "But the Clyde?" "Is but a ship. A magnificent ship, granted, but I gave up the Medusa, too." Instead of answering, Harriet gave him a long and passionate kiss. When they parted, she held his hand to her bosom. "I know full well what sacrifice this means for you. That you will do it for me fills me with more happiness than you can imagine." "Harriet, it is no sacrifice if it means that I will be with you." Harriet wiped her eyes and seemed to be just about to start crying when she checked herself. "No tears on this happy day! Today, my life starts again. And I will put those black dresses away. I need to get something new." Tony looked at her smiling but with a cocked eyebrow. "It's entirely proper," Harriet answered his silent question, "for a widow to relieve the black of her dress with a few white ornaments after the first half year. There should be a decent tailor in this town." Tony smirked. "You know, Harriet, I think I know the person for you to visit. The sister of one of my midshipmen, Samuel Wilson, is a talented seamstress who has her own shop on Mulberry Street. Her name is Elisabeth Wilson. Mention my name, and she will treat you with preference." "You know her?" "She has tailored all my uniforms. She is also my tenant, I own the house." Harriet smelled a rat immediately. "Am I much mistaken if I assume that she is young and pretty?" Tony smiled ruefully. "Not much, I should say. We dined twice, if you need to know. You will find her a very pleasant person." "I shall reserve my judgement. I may yet have to strangle her," Harriet answered, and Tony was not sure whether she was serious or not. He changed the topic. "Does this mean, you won't have to wear a veil anymore? You have such beautiful hair, it is a shame to hide it." Harriet laughed outright. "Not good enough, Tony. But I will visit her. If she can make me a dress I like, I might forgive her that she dined with you." Mrs. Blacket came in to clear away the plate and cups, and then Lucy came in, followed by Moira. Harriet introduced Tony and Moira to each other. "I met your fiancé recently, Miss McTaggart. Now that I have met you, I must remember to felicitate him at our next encounter." Moira scrutinised him with her defiant dark eyes before she decided that the flattery was meant as a friendly gesture. She gave him a friendly smile in return. "From what I heard this morning, I must congratulate you too. You have won the finest woman England can boast of." Lucy cleared her throat, and when they looked at her, she giggled. "Perhaps the finest woman should have some breakfast now and spend a few moments in front of a mirror? Harriet, dear, you really look like you spent the night on a chair in full clothes." "Well, I did, but you're right. Will you two take care of him while I have some breakfast?" "He will survive long enough for you to drag a comb through your hair," Lucy grinned. Harriet was still gone, when Dr. Wilkes knocked and entered. He had dark rings around his eyes and looked worse for wear. "Good morning! Sir Anthony, we haven't been introduced yet. I am Dr. Wilkes from London. Admiral Lambert retained my services to take care of you. Of course, Sir Richard could not anticipate that you already had a very capable colleague to look after you. Dr. Caldecott and I will take turns treating you." "Thank you, Doctor," Tony answered. "Could you possibly check with the Navy infirmary whether my wounded crew have adequate care? I will take care of your fees. It makes me feel bad to have two surgeons looking after me while my crew is at the mercy of some drunk butcher." Dr. Wilkes smiled smugly. "You may be pleased to hear that Dr. Caldecott and I have been doing just that until late last night. Obviously, your surgeon's mates did what little they could under the circumstances, but there is a lot left to do." While he spoke, he removed the poultice from the wound. He made a sound of approval, and then bent down to sniff. "Excellent, just excellent. You may expect a speedy recovery, Captain." He turned to Lucy. "Miss Gutteridge, I know I am asking a lot. But would you be willing to come with me and apply your herbal medicine on some of the other wounded? You would not have to go into the infirmary, but rather see individual wounded in a separate room." "If you think I may be of help, of course," Lucy responded. "Perhaps we could visit all the wounded and bring food for them," Moira volunteered. Dr. Wilkes bowed. "That would be most generous and helpful, too, Miss. But I would rather not have you in the infirmary. The sights and the stench would surely be too much for young ladies such as yourself." "Doctor, my fiancé is a Navy officer, and so is Lucy's. My father was a Major of the Royal Marines. This is something we will do if it were just to show our loyalty with the men fighting for our country." Tony joined in. "Buy whatever you deem fit and have the grocer charge my account. This is the least I can do to reward the loyalty of my crew. And let them have a keg of brown ale every evening to lift their spirits." Dr. Wilkes smiled. "I may consider sleeping at the hospital myself. While we are talking about this, Captain, is there a way to get supplies to treat the wounded French? We were told to just bind up the wounds and not bother." "What?" "The administrator is of the opinion that the wounded French, once cured, will only be a nuisance." "I shall send a letter to the Harbour Admiral, Doctor. In the meantime, order whatever supplies you need for adequate care. I will pay. How many are there?" "There were close to two hundred wounded French from both actions. Forty-two died before they reached Portsmouth. Another twelve since then. Of the remainder, we consider twenty-seven as beyond hope. They did not have a surgeon, either. Theirs died of syphilis on the outward journey." "And our own numbers?" "Fifty-two wounded, seven of which died as of yesterday. Another eight show signs of mortification, and another six to eight doubtful cases." This had been a costly victory, Tony reflected; almost a quarter of the crew had been disabled. His elated mood was blown away, and he was depressed at the thought of who of his shipmates might be among the dead. Those were people he had known for almost a decade, and he could not even pay them respect with this accursed leg wound. "Let the French have some ale, too. They fought bravely, too," he said in a low voice. Dr. Wilkes bowed. "I find that a very chivalrous gesture, Captain. I shall make it known to the men if only to shame those bureaucrats." "And I shall help, too," Harriet announced. She had come back unnoticed, and had listened in. "Why don't you two explore the needs first. Then we can plan accordingly." "You are right, Harriet," Moira conceded. "Can we go with you, Doctor?" "Of course, Miss Moira." "Then we better get dressed," Lucy added, and the three left the room. Harriet joined Tony at the bed again. She saw that he was distressed. "What is bothering you, darling?" "A lot of people have died, and I am responsible whether I like it or not," he sighed. "Tony, if the French in Rochefort had received notice of the situation and come out to fight the Channel Fleet, for instance, think of how many people would have died in such a major battle. You prevented worse bloodshed." "I keep telling that to myself. But still, those people in the infirmary are wounded because of my action. They may have suffered injury or death in a future battle, but that we cannot know. It is just something for me to live with." Mrs. Blacket knocked. "Lieutenant Fortescue for you, Sir Anthony." "Show him in, please," Tony answered with a sigh. Lt. Cyril Fortescue entered his captain's bedroom with some hesitation. He was obviously relieved to see him awake and well. "Good morning, Sir Anthony. I heard, the surgery went well." "I was told so, yes. Mr. Fortescue, please meet Mrs. Harriet Palmer. Harriet, this is my 1st Lieutenant, Mr. Fortescue." Fortescue bowed to Harriet. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Madam." "I am pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Fortescue." "How do you feel, Sir?", he turned to Tony again. "Increasingly tired, Mr. Fortescue. But better, much better. How are things going?" "We have careened the Clyde, Sir, to plug the two shot holes on the starboard side. No structural damage, though. She is as good as new. I have also visited the hospital this morning. Dr. Caldecott and Dr. Wilkes have been working all evening yesterday to treat the most urgent cases. About fifteen of the men are in critical condition." "I know, I interviewed Dr. Wilkes just before you came, Mr. Fortescue. Kindly see to it that the men lack nothing. My house guests have already arranged for additional provisions for the wounded. Could you kindly tell the purser to provide brown ale to the men every evening at my costs?" "Certainly, Sir. The men are quite upbeat and proud anyway. They had a full night of sleep, and they begin to realise the feat we accomplished. By the way, Sir, an Admiralty agent will assess the prize tomorrow. From what I have gathered she may fetch up to £13,000, seeing that she has over 2,000 tons. You should see that after cabin, Sir. It is a bloody palace!" Harriet made a show of clearing her throat, and Mr. Fortescue was crestfallen. "I am most sorry, Madam, to have used such foul language in your presence. I beg your forgiveness." Harriet grinned at his obvious dismay. "Don't worry, Mr. Fortescue, I am no shrinking violet, and I have been to sea, too," she laughed. Meanwhile, Tony whistled. His share would be over £3,000, a fortune by anyone's standards. The five surviving wardroom officers would share an eighth, with another eighth distributed among the warrant officers. Fortescue would clear more than £300, a handsome sum of money. Tony knew that Fortescue, although the grandson of a viscount and a nephew of Lord Parry, had little money of his own and had to live on his salary. The prize money would be godsend for him. "Sir Charles Foster has ordered a court martial against Mr. Sykes. You will have to testify, too, Sir. They need your testimony that you ordered him to abstain from spirits. The charge will be wilful disobedience and dereliction of duty." Tony nodded. "I have no idea when I will be able to stand up again, but I will notify Sir Charles as soon as I feel up to it." "There is another thing, Sir. I want to give you fair warning. I just learned that they will promote me commander, to acknowledge our success." Tony could only nod approvingly. It was fair and a compliment to the Clyde and himself. "But they want to give me acting command of the Clyde, Sir, until you are fit for duty again. They want the Clyde to sail as soon as possible. We are still part of Sir Robert's squadron, and we are needed." "Well, I am certainly not fit for command in my present state. It is only sensible to give you an acting command to fill the gap." "You would not be relieved of the command, Sir. My acting command would only last until you are fully convalescent. But if you have objections, Sir, I will decline." Tony shook his head. "Don't be stupid. This is a golden chance for you, and you are the right man. I will have a chance to recover fully and to settle my personal affairs." Here he pressed Harriet's hand, who smiled down at him. Fortescue understood. His captain had no desire to sail anytime soon. He suppressed a smile. "Then, with your approval, I will gladly accept the acting command. I shall have your furniture moved to your house." When Fortescue was gone, Tony could barely keep his eyes open, and he told Harriet. She helped him remove some of the pillows, and he laid down for a nap. When he woke up, the shadows outside were already long. He must have slept through the entire afternoon, but he felt the better for it. Harriet was sleeping on the chaise longue. For a while, Tony admired her reddish blond hair, as it flowed over her shoulders. There were some lines in her face, he observed, lines that had not been there two years ago, but she was still a strikingly beautiful woman. He thought of her slender body, too, which was now hidden under a shapeless black dress. But he could remember it clearly from that one night when they had enjoyed each other. And he would see it again and possess it. He pictured her, with her legs wrapped around his own hips, melting under his thrusts, until they both dissolved in ecstasy. His member reacted faithfully to this daydream, rising to full attention. As if she felt his desire, Harriet jerked awake. She noticed his smouldering look, and she could not help but notice the bulge that had formed beneath the sheet. She blushed deeply, but she also felt a tingle she remembered well. With a conscious effort, she looked into Tony's eyes and smiled at him. "How did you sleep, dear?" "Excellent. I feel rested now. The morning was tiresome." "You were quite out of it. Lucy changed the poultice, and you did not even stir." "How did it look? "Lucy was quite satisfied. Dr. Caldecott will visit you later when Lucy and Moira will return from the infirmary. Your Mr. Little helped them bring all the goods to the wounded. He is a remarkable man. If I had not been to Jamaica and had seen Negroes, I may have been afraid of him. But he is also quite different from the slaves I have seen." "He should be. He is a free man and a volunteer in the Navy. He is also one of the few people I would trust with my life. I will have to think of a way to reward him properly. After all, he kept me alive during the trip back. Giles helped, too. And Lucy did. I owe my life to a lot of people." "And what about me?" Harriet asked with mock indignation. "You are my life," Tony answered simply. Harriet swallowed and rushed over to his bed to put her head on his chest. "It is really true, Harriet," he continued while he caressed her hair, "you were the driving force behind my decision to join the Navy. All I wanted in the beginning was to become worthy of you. Later, when that motivation was gone," here, Harriet sobbed quietly, "I had grown to like my profession, and I had the friendship of other people to sustain me. But my desire for you has guided me ever since we met." "You know," Harriet began haltingly, "ever since those days in the longboat, you were in my dreams. I could never see a future without you. That was the worst of being married to Rupert, the lack of a future. How I hated him for what he did to us!" To her astonishment, she found that she would still tremble with hate when she thought of her late husband, even half a year after he had paid the ultimate price for his scoundrelly ways. Tony lifted her head with his hands and looked straight into her eyes. "Harriet, he is dead and gone, but we are alive, and we have a future. Put him behind you." "You are right, Tony. It is scary, though, that I am still so full of hate. It seems to get worse with time." "Once we'll be married and happy, he will be just an unpleasant memory. Right now, you still feel limited because of him, and that makes you hate him." "You know, you are right. Had it not been for him, we would have been married at least a year ago." "But you would not have the strength you gained through your ordeal, and you would lack some of your dearest friends, like Anita and Moira. I'm not saying you should be grateful for what happened, but a lot of good things came out of it, too." Harriet contemplated his words. "This is an angle from which I have not seen it. I will have to think about it. It would mean that even a bad person can unwittingly cause good things to happen." "Why not? The shot of the French soldier was meant to kill me, but it caused us to reconcile much faster and more thoroughly than we could anticipate a month ago. You know, when I was shot and I saw the blood pumping out of my leg, I was certain that I would die. And the most dreadful thought was that I would never see you again. It made me realise how important you are for me." Harriet kissed him tenderly. "Did you really think of me in that situation? When I read the first newspaper account, it said you were mortally wounded. I thought that my life was over, and I blamed myself for the petty jealousy I had shown." "See, a malevolent deed ultimately turned into a good thing. Let us look forward. Rupert Palmer is dead, the French soldier is dead for all I know, but we are together again; we are even better off than before, because we have a better measure of each other." Harriet nodded solemnly. "What you say is true, Tony. To hell with Rupert's shadow! He could not destroy our future, he was too weak for that." She put her head on his chest again and remained there until a knock announced the return of Lucy, Moira and Dr. Wilkes. All three were subdued and showed fatigue. Mrs. Blacket followed and announced that a supper was ready for them. She received grateful looks from everyone. She had Tony's supper on a tray, and the smell of the soup made his mouth water. She had prepared an onion soup, with a rich beef broth. While the house guests went downstairs for their supper, Mrs. Blacket remained. She gave Tony a second helping and then even a third. He was ravenous anyway, but the spicy soup would have been delicious under any circumstances. "That was really excellent, Mrs. Blacket," he praised her when he was sated. "If you could get me a glass of port, then this supper would have a worthy ending." Nadine smiled and left with the soup bowl, to return with a glass of port wine. Tony sipped, and the warmth streamed through him. He became tired again fast, and he barely noticed when Dr. Wilkes examined his leg half an hour later and Lucy renewed the poultice. He was fast asleep at 9 o'clock, and he slept for over twelve hours, something he had not done since childhood. The sun was high in the sky, when he awoke. Harriet was sitting in a chair with some needlework, and she, too, looked rested. "Good morning, love," she said and beamed a smile at him. "How do you feel?" "I'm ravenous," he answered, aware that the throbbing pain in his leg, something he had become used to, was absent. Yet his leg was there, as he ascertained by moving it slightly. Some discomfort was still there, but it was nothing like the kind of piercing pain that had shot through his leg whenever he moved. "But my leg is much better," he added. As if on cue, Lucy came in. "Good morning! I thought I'd have a look at your leg before I leave for the hospital." "Good morning, Lucy," Tony answered. "How are the wounded?" "Three men died of gangrene yesterday," she replied sadly. "Another one obviously died under Dr. Wilkes knife while he tried to amputate a mortified leg. It is so sad to see all those young men so badly wounded. But several of the men we were worried about have improved. And I must tell you that sending over the ale has won you the love of everyone. I am also to relate the thanks of Monsieur Bourdichon, the French second lieutenant. He is among the wounded, and he asked me to thank you for your generosity." "Tell him to think nothing of it. Tell him it is no more than I would expect if I were wounded and in French hands." "I will tell him, but he is grateful anyway, and rightfully so. Now about your leg." Lucy unwrapped the thigh to examine the wound. She bent down over the thigh to sniff and blushed furiously when she realised that she had her face almost in a man's groin. "Dr. Wilkes has shown me the difference between good smell and mortification," she mumbled to hide her embarrassment. "This smells good." Tony tried to see the leg. "The wound is still open?" he asked. "Yes, and it must stay open for a few more days. Dr. Wilkes says that the wound must heal from inside. If the skin closes to early, boils can develop underneath. The pus that comes out is good for the healing. If the wound will close before the pus stops flowing, Dr. Wilkes will have to lance it." Tony squirmed uncomfortably. "How long will this take?" "Another week perhaps, I don't know. Dr. Wilkes should know." "When can I get up?" "Not before that wound is closed, I am afraid." She giggled. "Harriet said she would stay with you as long as she is needed. When you can get up, she will lose her justification for staying here, and we cannot have that!" Both Harriet and Tony laughed in response. In the meantime, Lucy had replaced the bandage, and Moira joined them. Mrs. Blacket brought a hearty breakfast of fried bacon and eggs and strong coffee. He was barely finished when Mrs. Blacket announced another visitor. "Sir Anthony, zere is a Miss Wilson, to see you." "Please, show her in," he answered with some trepidation. This could prove a prickly situation. Harriet sat upright, her hackles raised. When Elisabeth Wilson entered, Harriet set her jaw visibly. Elisabeth looked about and she obviously felt the hostile reaction of Harriet. She spoke cautiously. "Good morning, Sir Anthony, I came to pay my respects and to see whether there is anything I can do to assist you." "Good morning, Miss Wilson. This is very kind of you, but I can assure you that I am recovering already. May I introduce you to the ladies? Harriet, this is Miss Wilson, my tenant. She tailored those wonderful uniforms for me. Miss Wilson, this is my dear friend and future wife, Mrs. Harriet Palmer. Over there are Miss Lucy Gutteridge and Miss Moira McTaggart, both friends of Mrs. Palmer." Elisabeth turned on her charm. "I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Palmer, and you too, Miss Gutteridge and Miss McTaggart. Please let me know whether I may be of service to you. I am a seamstress with my own shop, and I would feel it an honour to be of your service." "Thank you Miss Wilson," Harriet replied, somewhat mollified by the friendly air the young woman exuded. "I may indeed have to ask for your assistance. I thought of relieving the strict black of my dress, but I had no time to do so in London." "It would be my pleasure," Elisabeth answered. "May I ask what you have in mind?" "Some white or lilac, perhaps?" Elisabeth closed her eyes and opened them again. "I see a black skirt. A black top with lilac piping finish on the seams to underscore your slender waist. And a white blouse, with the same lilac piping finish and a lilac bow tie." Harriet nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes, I can see it. When can you take my measurements?" "Why not today? Do you want me to come here or would you rather visit my shop?" Harriet looked at her friends. "Shop," Lucy said with finality. "And don't think for one moment that we will let you go there alone." Moira nodded enthusiastically, and the easy laughter that followed cleared the atmosphere. Tony was relieved. "There is no real hurry, Miss Wilson, but I could do with two new breeches as well, and another five shirts if you find the time. Obviously, one pair of breeches was ruined by a French sharpshooter." "Certainly, Sir Anthony," Elisabeth replied. The visit, done out of worry for the man she still cared for, was paying off nicely. Winning a real lady like Mrs. Palmer as a customer could help her enormously. "How is our renegade nun?" Tony asked next. "She is a great help, at least as long as your Mr. Little is not in town. She deserted me for the second evening yesterday. But I had to hire two more helpers to cope with the business," she ended, sounding decidedly smug. She did not try to hide the pride she felt. "That is good to hear. I am glad for you, and I am sure that your success is well earned." "There is another thing, Sir Anthony. I may be able to buy my own premises. Mr. Hogsbotham has advised me, and he thinks I can easily afford it. Would you be willing to sell me the house on Mulberry Street?" Tony considered only briefly. He had bought the house on a whim, mostly to help the young woman he had taken a liking to. But he did not need it. "I will give Mr. Hogsbotham notice that he can arrange for the transaction." He grinned at Harriet. "You may be able to pay the instalments by making dresses for Mrs. Palmer, or rather Lady Carter as she will soon call herself." That started another laughter, and when, a few minutes later, Elisabeth Wilson left, Harriet gave her a friendly handshake. "She is nice," Harriet stated afterwards, "I may not have to strangle her." The rest of the day fell into the same pattern as the one before, with Lucy and Moira visiting the wounded sailors, and Harriet sitting with Tony most of the time. Two, three and four days passed in this fashion, and Harriet realised with surprise that she had been in Portsmouth for a week. Anita Heyworth had written two letters, one for her and one for Tony. She wished Tony a speedy recovery and she thanked Harriet for keeping her informed. The tone was friendly, but seemed distant, adding to Harriet's fear of loosing Anita's friendship. That day, however, brought some diversion. Dr. Wilkes had allowed Tony to stand up and sit at the table during lunch and supper. Mr. Little had assisted him down the stairs and into the dining room, and Tony felt relieved to wear clothes again and to sit at a table. He had good company, too, since all three young ladies and Dr. Wilkes joined him for lunch. In the middle of the first course, a knock was heard from the door, and shortly after, Mrs. Blacket came in. "Sir Richard Lambert and Lady Lambert to see you, Sir Anthony." "Please, show them in, Mrs. Blacket, and be so kind as to set for two more persons." Nadine Blacket nodded, and showed the visitors in. Tony stood up carefully on his right leg; no discomfort could keep him from maintaining his good manners. "Lady Lambert, Sir Richard, welcome to my house. Please excuse me if I cannot come forward to greet you, but I am still somewhat limited in the use of my leg." "Do not trouble yourself, my dear Sir Anthony," Sir Richard answered hastily, "we only came to ascertain that you are recovering as speedily as Harriet reported." "This is very kind of you, indeed. Would you care to join us for lunch? I take it you came from London this morning. You must be famished." Mrs. Blacket had set the additional china and silverware, and the new visitors sat down. "This is a very nice house, Captain, and a good neighbourhood," Lady Lambert commented. "Our good friend, Sir Charles Foster, lives just along the street, too. I take it, you like it, too, Harriet." Harriet, who had demonstratively moved her chair closer to Tony's, smiled back. "It is lovely, Mother. We have already talked about the changes we will have to introduce for it to better suit our needs and taste." Lady Lambert raised her eyebrows at Harriet, and when Harriet nodded happily, she addressed her husband. "Richard, dear, I suppose this would call for a toast on the couple, now wouldn't it?" Sir Richard, although somewhat slower on the uptake than his wife, finally grasped what had been transported, and he broke into a grin while he raised the glass of wine he had just received. "My ladies and gentlemen, here is to my daughter Harriet and her future husband, Sir Anthony Carter, Knight of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath!" Everyone but Tony drank the toast. Harriet was the quickest to grasp the implications of what her father had said. "Really?" The others looked at her, puzzled. "Yes," Sir Richard answered smugly, "I have it from Castlereagh. The King has been notified already. The invitation should be here any day." Slowly, comprehension dawned on Tony, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrow. "Yes, you will be knighted," Sir Richard nodded. "God knows, you earned it. Of course, there is more to it. After that fiasco with Calder they need to show the public that our Navy captains still know how to fight. More is to come. But I will not spoil the surprise." "Father!" Harried cried accusingly. "What? I must leave some surprise for our good King George. Well, one thing I can tell you. You will be posted to that prize of yours. She will be renamed Asia. We did not have an Asia since the old one was broken up in '02. It will be two or three months, still. As long as you command the Clyde in name, young Cyril Fortescue can remain in acting command, and that is what his uncle is interested in. As I see it, the repairs for Calder's ships will keep the dockyard busy for some time, and it will be a good half year for the new Asia to be refitted. This will give you enough time to settle your personal affairs," he added with a smirk toward his daughter. Tony had the clear notion that the good Sir Richard was as anxious as he or Harriet to make sure that nothing went wrong between them. The posting to the Asia would be nice, too. She was a roomy, well-built ship. In two months, he would be a Senior Captain and eligible for such a command. Yes, the future held promise. "I must compliment you on your appearance, Harriet," Lady Lambert said, changing the course of the conversation. "This dress is very becoming. I have not seen it before, though?" Harriet smiled. "A young seamstress here in Portsmouth made it. She is wonderful; you must visit her shop, too, mother. I will have some more dresses made in similar style." "I see. It is a very well made dress, and the piping finish is such a nice touch. And the same tone as the bow tie. Richard, do you think I may slip away for an hour during the afternoon?" Sir Richard affected a groan. "As long as I won't have to discuss your purchases with you, go ahead and have fun." "Men," Lady Lambert sighed, "they have no sense for beauty." "Wait," Sir Richard protested, "didn't I select that wonderful figurehead for the Athena?" "Yes, you did, Richard," his wife laughed, "and you would have been well advised so select a dress for that figurehead as well. Imagine my embarrassment when I discovered a nude female figurehead on the ship I was about to christen." "I can still remember poor Andrew, how he blushed when he saw it," Harriet chimed in, "yet, he could not keep his eyes off it." "I believe I may have cured him of such fruitless infatuations," Lucy stated to a chorus of good-natured laughter. "I saw the Athena once," Tony offered, "and I thought she had a very well proportioned figurehead." "Oh no," Harriet exclaimed, "the Asia must have a female figurehead, too." That set off another laughter, and Sir Richard took great delight in delivering the coupe de grace. "Perhaps you want to sit for the carver, Harriet?" The ladies shrieked at that, throwing napkins at him. "Richard, you are out of line," Lady Lambert gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "I cannot imagine what poor Dr. Wilkes might think of us." "Don't worry about me, Lady Lambert," the good doctor answered, "I can use a little light-hearted conversation." Lunch was finished by then. The women decided on an afternoon stroll, while Tony, with Sir Richard and Dr. Wilkes moved into the study, where he gratefully sank into an upholstered chair, while Mr. Little handed out cigars and brandy. The tall African was an odd sight in his coxswain's uniform, but Tony realised that Little, too, was in a transition, from subordinate to confidential servant. And he handled the new situation very well, helping Mrs. Blacket when she asked him, but always maintaining a special standing inside his captain's household. The men entered a leisurely discussion on various issues, until Dr. Wilkes left for the hospital. Then, Sir Richard broached a sensitive topic. "There will be a court martial against Sir Robert Calder. You may be called as witness as well." "But I was not with Sir Robert's squadron when they engaged Villeneuve." "Yes, but Calder claims he was concerned about the French in Rochefort breaking the blockade. He maintains that the risk was too great following Villeneuve. We need an independent testimony regarding the situation off Rochefort. And you are ideal. No blame attaches to you, and you have not been in Sir Robert's squadron long enough to make any friends." "When will that court martial convene?" "Sir Robert must be recalled from his station first. As soon as he arrives, preparations will begin. Witnesses must be assembled, too. I suspect we will not open the trial before December. I will preside over the court martial," he added with a heavy sigh. "I certainly hope to be convalescent by then." "We will also hold the court martial against your surgeon. Wilful disobedience and dereliction of duty. I saw the report of young Cyril Fortescue. This will be easy to decide. Do you think you may be able to testify in a week? Such cases should be tried as fast as possible, and Clyde will be needed on her post." "If nothing unforeseen happens, I should be well enough in a week." "We can of course offer you to sit during your testimony." "Dr. Wilkes said, Sykes caused more casualties than the French. But he should not have been appointed to the Clyde in the first place. Who appoints these butchers anyway?" "That is something we will look into afterwards, believe me. Somebody will have to explain himself. But enough of these matters. I take it, from what transported during lunch, that you have an interest in my daughter. Please mind that, as a widow, she is not dependent on my approval." "It is true, Sir Richard, that Harriet and I are fully reconciled, and we wish to marry as soon as Harriet's obligations will allow it. Harriet's status as widow notwithstanding, I hope that this will meet with your approval." "Not only that, but it is my most fervent wish to see my daughter happy after the ordeal she went through. I, for one, and I speak for my wife, too, cannot imagine a better man for my daughter to marry." "Thank you, Sir Richard." "I am afraid, now is the point where we have to discuss your ability to maintain my daughter in suitable style." This, of course, meant that Tony was to lay open his financial situation. "Apart from my salary, I have an interest in the shipping firm of Whitney & Cie in Kingston which, on the average, yields a little over £800 per annum. I own this house, and I have another £6,000 invested in the Funds, yielding £450 per year in interest. Add to that the prize money for the Alceste, and you will find me well able to entertain my future wife appropriately." Sir Richard was impressed. "It is rare for a young officer to invest his gains so wisely. Well, Harriet will bring in a townhouse in London from her first marriage. And since I did not give a dowry at her first wedding, it is my pleasure to offer an estate on the Thames river near Maidenhead. My wife inherited it from her older brother, and it is appropriate that Harriet should have the use of it. The manor house is not too impressive, but well kept, and the land is good. The rent income has been quite satisfactory over the last years. When you will have recovered enough, you can visit the place with Harriet and decide whether you find it suitable." That would make Tony a "landed gentleman", a land owner with an income from the tenants who actually worked the land. His impending knighthood and the landownership combined would ensure a prominent social position for him beyond his career in the Royal Navy. And the prospect of a seat in the countryside, on a peaceful river, was appealing. He was not so sure about the house of Rupert Palmer; that was something Harriet and he would have to discuss. "I am sorry," he said, realising he had been lost in thought for almost a minute. "This is a very generous offer. Does Harriet know the place?" "Yes, she spent two or three summers at her uncle's, and she always loved it. That is why I thought she should have it." "Quite, quite," Tony mused. "If Harriet does not object for some reason, I am content." "It is settled then? Wonderful. Let us have another glass of brandy then. This is good brandy, by the way." Tony smiled. "Mr. Fortescue secured it from the captain's stores of the Alceste, Sir Richard. I received a whole case of it as my share." "I suppose this is the time for you to stop calling me 'Sir Richard'. You'll be my son in law in no time, and I would appreciate you calling me Richard." "I appreciate that, Richard. As you may know, people who know me call me Tony." "To your health, then, Tony! And to Harriet's happiness!" "I can drink to both," Tony replied, and they both emptied their glasses. When the women returned, both men were discussing the current naval situation. Sir Richard filled in his future son-in-law on the most recent developments. The Franco-Spanish fleet was blockaded in Cadiz by the squadron of Adm. Cuthbert Collingwood, to be reinforced by Nelson's Mediterranean Fleet. Both men agreed that an effective blockade of Cadiz would be difficult, due to the great distance from England. During dinner, plans for Harriet and Tony were discussed. It was clear that Harriet could not stay in Tony's house once he had recovered from his wounds. Lady Lambert persuaded her daughter to return to London, offering to invite Tony to the Lamberts' London home. This was the plan approved, especially, since Tony had to come to London anyway. After dinner, John Little helped his captain upstairs where he fell into a deep sleep, being thoroughly exhausted after his first day up and about. Over the next week, Tony rapidly recovered his strength, and he was soon able to walk about his house unassisted. Dr. Wilkes left Portsmouth, together with Lucy and Moira, having finished his business with Tony, and having performed much-needed services at the Navy hospital. Lucy and Moira went ahead to prepare the house for Harriet's return. It was late August when Tony received a summons for the court martial of John Sykes, ship's surgeon. The Clyde had sailed a week ago, with Cmdr. Fortescue in acting command. Fortescue had given evidence in writing. Two days later, Captain Sir Anthony Carter, C.B., in his parade uniform, sat outside the main cabin of the Glorieux, a French prize taken at Aboukir and now serving as flagship for the harbour admiral. He did not have to wait too long before he was called in. The panel of judges consisted of Sir Richard Lambert, Sir Charles Foster, and three captains. Tony stated his name and rank for the protocol. "Sir Anthony," Admiral Lambert began the questioning, "what was your impression when Mr. Sykes reported for duty on board HMS Clyde?" Tony cleared his throat and looked at Sykes for the first time. The man sat, sunk in a chair, with trembling hands and looked down at the deck under his feet. "Mr. Sykes reported for duty in a quite disreputable state of dress, Sir. He smelled of ardent spirits and made the strong impression of being drunk." "How did you respond to this, Captain?" "I admonished him with strong language and forbade him the use of spirits. I also placed the medicinal spirits under the care of my 1st Lieutenant, Mr. Fortescue." "What was your impression of Mr. Sykes from this point of time onward?" "He appeared sober whenever I saw him, Sir. He dressed appropriately and performed his duties as surgeon to my satisfaction. I became convinced that his improper appearance had been a one time lapse." "But you still did not see fit to place the stock of medicinal spirits under his care?" "No, Sir. I thought it better not to give him temptation." "Can you say anything with regard to Mr. Sykes conduct on the day of the action between Clyde and the French line-of-battle ship, Alceste?" "No, Sir. I had been rendered unconscious for loss of blood. When I awoke for the first time, Mr. Fortescue informed me that he had Mr. Sykes in irons for dereliction of duty." "Did you approve of the measure, Captain? Mr. Sykes holds officer's rank; and it is unusual for officers to be put in irons." "I am afraid that I was not in a state that allowed me to ponder this question, Sir. Undoubtedly, Mr. Fortescue resorted to this course of action out of fear that members of the crew would act in revenge against Mr. Sykes if he was left unguarded." "Was that something to be feared?" one of the captains asked. "Several crew members died for want of proper treatment, something Mr. Sykes bears full responsibility for. The crew was angry about that situation, no doubt. Anything can happen in such a situation, especially when a decimated crew has to sail damaged ships and watch over a large number of prisoners." "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Sir Richard concluded. Mr. Sykes "friend", an officer appointed to represent him, stood up. He was a young lieutenant who, like Tony, was dragging a leg. Wounded and waiting for his next appointment, Tony thought. "May I continue, Sir Anthony, or would you rather have a break?" he asked politely, watching Tony with blatant adoration. "We can proceed, Lieutenant," Tony answered pleasantly. "When you forbade Mr. Sykes the consumption of spirits, Sir Anthony, did you phrase this as an order?" Tony nodded. That was an important point. "I explicitly told him that this was an order, to be disobeyed at his peril." "Thank you, Sir. Did you, at any time during the following months of service, get the impression that Mr. Sykes might be unfit for service?" Tony pondered this question. "He certainly was not my favourite subordinate. But in no instance did he give me sufficient reason to ask for his replacement. And I certainly did not suspect that he would indulge in spirits at the prospect of action." "Thank you, Sir Anthony. I have no further questions for this witness, Sir." Tony was excused and sat in the back of the room while the written depositions of Mr. Fortescue and of several other crew members were presented. Then, three wounded survivors appeared before the court martial to give evidence, and they reported that they received scant care from a surgeon who was dead drunk. In the end, the judges deliberated for barely ten minutes before they handed down their verdict. "This court-martial," Sir Richard read, "finds the defendant John Sykes, ship's surgeon of HMS Clyde, guilty of violating Nºs eleven and twelve of the Articles of War as laid down by their Lordships, by disobeying a direct order from his captain and by rendering himself unfit for duty in the face of an armed enemy. The convicted is sentenced to death." If Sykes felt anything, he did not show it. He remained slumped back into his seat, to be pulled up by the sergeant of the Marines who shackled him and led him out. The judges sat with faces of stones until he had left the cabin, then the mood changed. "An unpleasant affair, to be sure," Sir Charles Foster exclaimed. "Can I entice you gentlemen to join me for lunch? And you too, Sir Anthony? Mr. Galbraith?" Tony and the young lieutenant accepted, of course. The cabin was redecorated in a hurry, and the table was set. Fresh food on board a ship was something that somehow seemed odd to most of the officers present, but the mutton roast was excellent and spirits were lifted. Tony had to relate the action with the Alceste, as far as he remembered it, and an animated discussion on the consequences of the Battle off Cape Finisterre began. Tony returned to his house later in the afternoon. Harriet would leave the next day with her father to return to London, and she was subdued for obvious reasons. They had tea, later that afternoon, when a lieutenant of the Guards called to deliver a large envelope, bearing the seal of the Royal Household. Tony read the letter and confirmed what he already assumed. "I am commanded to appear at St. James Palace on Friday," he said calmly. "Then you can travel with us tomorrow," Harriet smiled. Tony nodded. "That would be pleasant. I shall have my travel gear packed." The rest of the afternoon, until dinner time, was spent with travel preparations. After dinner, Tony and Harriet sat in the study, planning for the next days. Around nine o'clock, they decided to go to bed, and Tony, as had become a habit, accompanied Harriet upstairs. He kissed Harriet good night at the door of her bedroom and went back into his own. He was able again to undress by himself and happy for it. In his shirt, he climbed into his bed, and he was about to blow out the candle on the night stand, when the door opened and Harriet slipped in, wearing a nightshirt. She scooted over to his bed, carefully avoiding the floor boards which she knew would creak, and slipped under his sheet. She snuggled close to him. "This is our last chance to be alone together for a long time," she whispered. Tony grinned at her in the dim light of the single candle. "Are you taking advantage of my helpless state?" he asked with mock desperation. Harriet snorted. "Some helpless state. What I feel down here does not seem to be helpless at all." "But I am," Tony insisted, "I can't help but touch you." He let action follow his words, letting his hand wander from her shoulder to her spine and down to the small of her back. When his hand began to knead her trim buttocks, Harriet hummed appreciatively and scooted up until she could kiss him. Their lips locked, and for quite some time nothing could be heard but the ever increasing breathing of the two lovers. When Tony's hand moved deftly under the hem of Harriet's shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose her lower body, and caressed the soft flesh of her thighs, her breathing turned into low moans. Her own left hand sneaked under Tony's shirt and took a firm grip of his fully erect member. The hot flesh in her hand twitched and pulsed under her grip, and Harriet felt the overwhelming urge to feel her lover's member at her own sex. Straddling Tony's hips, she slipped her shirt over her head. Then she lowered her sex over the swollen penis, aligning its length along her own slit. When she was finally seated, she felt the delicious pressure of Tony's organ along her opening and at her hooded clitoris. She moved slightly, back and forth, to test the feel, and she liked what she felt. The tip of his penis pressed upwards and brushed against her most sensitive spot, and she soon immersed herself in the exquisite sensations. Tony, too, was enraptured by the treatment he received. Harriet had matured, no doubt, he mused, and she would be a challenging lover, with a mind of her own, something he appreciated greatly in a woman. He watched with fascination how the tip of his member alternately appeared and disappeared between the moist lips of her sex. He felt the strong urge to point his member upward and spear her from below, an urge he tried to control. After all, getting pregnant during her mourning year would ruin Harriet's reputation beyond repair. Harriet, too, felt the urge to impale herself on the stiff organ she was riding, to give free rein to her lust and throw caution and reason to the wind. Faster and faster, she rubbed her sex against the burning rod of flesh between her legs. She would have surely succumbed to the temptation, had not Tony added to her lust by lifting his head and latching his mouth to the nipple of her left breast. Nibbling and suckling, he added just enough of sensation to her already overcharged system to send her crashing over the edge. Shaking, she slumped over him, and through the rushing blood in her ears, she heard his soothing words. "You are wonderful, Harriet, wonderful and beautiful. I could stay like this forever, darling. Don't move now, just rest." After a while, she regained her senses. His penis was still aligned along her sex and still hard. With a happy smile, she kissed him and scooted down along his body. Tony looked down at her as she opened her mouth and began to suckle on his penis. Her tongue twirled around the tip, while her hand had a strong grip on the shaft. She began to move that hand up and down the length of his member, always keeping up the suction on the sensitive head, and looking steadily into his eyes. The look of her emerald eyes touched him deep inside, and he felt his passion begin to boil. From deep within, he felt the tidal wave of lust, mounting higher and higher, until, with a muffled cry, he gave way to his urge. String after string of semen erupted into Harriet's mouth, who kept her lips sealed around the tip of his penis, maintaining a steady suction. When he was finally spent, she swallowed his load and grinned up to him. Scooting up again, she snuggled against his heaving chest. "I wanted to do this for over two weeks," she whispered. "Why didn't you ask, then?" Tony answered drily. "I would have never refused you." That earned him a playful slap. "Because you were in no condition for it. So you better not get hurt ever again or I may have to seek comfort elsewhere." "With Lucy?" Tony quipped, bracing himself for the inevitable slap. It came. "Don't you ever mention that to somebody else, not even to Lucy. I trusted you with my secret." "And your secret is safe with me. It is just that the mental image of you and Lucy together is somehow very appealing." "Naughty man," Harriet whispered, blushing deeply and giggling madly at the same time. "Don't you even think of it. The embarrassment of a man watching us would probably kill me." "And you would not mind a woman watching you?" he asked playfully, merely trying to keep up the banter. He felt her stiffen in his arms. "Oh no, does that mean what I think it means?" Harriet felt like her face was on fire. "One evening, we had too much sherry. We started to fool around, and Moira was there and joined us. There you have it." Tony chuckled richly, but nevertheless Harriet felt his penis swell in response to what he heard. "My my," he marvelled, "that must have been a sight to behold. Tell me, what do you do when you are with another woman?" Harriet felt bolder now, the topic excited her, too. "Women can kiss just like men. And they can caress each other. They know how to please another woman, of course." "Better than a man?" Tony asked, and a split second later he wanted to slap himself. She had only Rupert Palmer to compare. But Harriet had not taken offence. "I would not know that, Tony. Not better than you, I should say. How come you know so well how to please a woman? Did you learn from your Mrs. Mulcahy?" "Well, Rosy Mulcahy certainly added to my experience in this regard. But we had an indentured servant in our house. That was after my mother died and before I went to sea with my father. She was twice my age, almost twenty-six, and she was lovely. My father would never touch her, and he was away most of the time anyway. "I was curious at that age, and I spied on her through the cracks of her door. She caught me in the end, but instead of complaining to my father, she pulled me into her chamber. Well, during the next months, she taught me all there is to know, and then some more. "When my father returned, he released her from her contract. She told me, during the last night, that my father had offered her freedom in exchange for my education in the matters of love. She let me have another night with her to show me that she really liked me. But I have never seen her again. Father would not tell me where she went." "This is so unfair," Harriet pouted. "Boys are encouraged to do this, and girls are told it is sin to even think about it!" "But they think about it anyway," Tony chuckled. "Of course," Harriet answered with a dreamy voice. "I had these romantic dreams of a pirate who captured me from my father's ship. He would bring me to his secret island where he kept his treasures and he would fulfil my every wish. I secretly read all of Andrew's pirate books, and I wove those stories into my own dreams." Tony chuckled. "And then, instead of a bloody pirate, you lost your heart to a lowly second mate." "But you looked exactly as I pictured a pirate. You made me tingle all over when I saw you the first time. How I hated you for this effect you had on me! What did you think of me, then?" "Spoiled brat, looking down her nose at everyone. That's what I thought of you. And I found that very challenging." Harriet giggled. "I think I was very spoiled then. And you were quite cocky." "Me?" Tony protested. "I was modesty incarnate." "You were cocky. You thought you were God's special gift for women. You did not even shy from married women. You hurt me so much when I saw you with that Pendrake woman, I wanted to kill you." "I am so sorry, Harriet. I know that was inconsiderate. My only excuse is that I was young and stupid." "And cocky!" she added, smiling again. "And cocky, yes." Early in the next morning, after a hasty breakfast, they climbed aboard Sir Richard's coach, and minutes later, they were on the way to London. Tony and Harriet sat side by side in the coach, opposite Sir Richard. With a defiant look at her father, Harriet took Tony's hand in hers and lifted it over head so as to sit with his arm around her shoulder. She put her head against Tony's chest and grinned shamelessly at her father. Sir Richard smiled at his daughter with affection. "You are right, making the most of this journey. Back in London, we have to continue with the charade of your mourning. What do you think, Harriet, should we have the engagement on Christmas or on New Years Eve?" "I would like New Years Eve," Harriet answered. "What do you think, Tony?" "I am indifferent, as long as we have the wedding as soon as possible," Tony answered, pressing her against his chest. Harriet turned her head and beamed up at him, obviously pleased with the answer. "February at the earliest," Sir Richard said. "But you are welcome at my house if you want to stay in London." They continued by discussing the wedding. They agreed on having the wedding in London, and that they would spend their honeymoon at the country seat on the upper River Thames before returning to Portsmouth. More and more was discussed about the next months, but little did they know how fate would interfere shortly with their well-laid plans. They arrived in London in the afternoon. Harriet left the coach at her house, and then Tony rode the short distance with Sir Richard to Cavendish Square, where Lady Lambert welcomed him warmly, expressing her delight in his quick recovery. The next morning, Tony reported at the Admiralty. In spite of the urgency of the current situation, Mr. Nepean found a few minutes to interview him, and to express his satisfaction with the Clyde's actions. Tony was assured to receive the command of the Alceste, or Asia as she was to be renamed, as soon as the dockyards could find the time to affect the necessary repairs. Mr. Nepean showed himself surprised and delighted about Captain Carter's quick recovery from a near-fatal gunshot wound. After the short interview with the Secretary, Tony was questioned by Adm. Lord Parry, Lord Commissioner of the Navy. Lord Parry was mostly interested in the conduct of his nephew. He was very pleased to hear that Captain Carter had the highest opinion of his First Lieutenant, Cyril Fortescue. "I must thank you, Sir Anthony, for giving such good guidance to my nephew," were the parting words, and Tony felt smug in the realisation that he now had another supporter high up in the Navy. He left the Admiralty to visit Harriet. They had chocolate, together with Lucy and Moira, and they chatted amiably until it was time for Tony to leave. The next morning, Tony carefully dressed in his finest uniform. For the first time, he sported two epaulettes instead of a single epaulette on the right shoulder. He was a senior captain now, with three years of seniority in his rank. He carefully put on the sash and the small star of a Companion of the Bath and checked his appearance for the last time. When he walked downstairs and into the entrance hall, the Lamberts were ready, too. Sir Richard had arranged for himself and his family to be in attendance at court for the event. Harriet was there, too, and she looked absolutely stunning in a new dress Tony had not seen before. It was still black, but well placed purple linings and piping finish underscored her slender waist and the swell of her bosom. Her strawberry blond hair contrasted nicely with the black of the dress, and her emerald green eyes sparkled with anticipation. Tony wanted to kiss her, but she beat him to it, rushing to him and pulling down his face. Sir Richard cleared his throat. "Ha-hm, I think we had better leave lest we will keep His Majesty waiting." Outside, the warm September sun greeted them, and they took an open carriage to St. James Palace. This was quite different from the hasty ceremony in which he had been made Companion. When Tony entered the audience hall, the conversation in the room died, and a number of men and women rushed forward to introduce themselves and to offer him their felicitations. Even HRH, the Duke of Clarence, third son of George III., and a Navy Admiral to boot, came forward to express his appreciation. The Duke, to be known later as the Sailor King when he ascended the throne as William IV., was a friendly and modest man and popular among Navy officers. Then, a courtier announced His Majesty George III., King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Elector of Hanover, and the men and women in the audience hall bowed or curtseyed before their monarch. A courtier led Tony before the King. "My dear Sir Anthony," the King addressed him, "it is with utmost satisfaction that We have learned of the great courage and skill that you displayed in Our service. And with equally great distress did We learn of the grave injuries you sustained, and We are indeed very pleased to see you fully recovered." Tony bowed again. "Today it pleases Us to bestow on you the honours that you so richly deserve," the King continued, and another courtier, in a crimson cloak, stepped forward. "Kneel, Sir," he addressed Tony, and with some difficulty Tony complied, his leg still hurting greatly in a kneeling position. Once again, he felt the sword on his shoulders and heard himself being appointed a Knight of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, Sir Anthony Carter. A heavy, crimson cloak was draped around his shoulders and somebody removed his old sash and star and replaced them with the more imposing cross of a full knight. In well rehearsed words, he thanked the King for the distinction. His Majesty nodded in appreciation and took another parchment from a tray. "We have also deigned to appoint our true and valiant servant, Sir Anthony Carter, to Colonel of the Royal Marines Regiment, in recognition of his outstanding conduct." Again, Tony bowed. A colonel of the Royal Marines drew a pay of £1,200 a year and had to do no duty. It was sinecure bestowed upon successful captains to allow them a more comfortable life, even if they held no command. This was nothing to sneeze at and a more substantial reward than any royal hand shake. Harriet and he would find good use for that money. With this additional income, he would have a worry-free life, even when he was on half-pay. He wondered briefly whether this was something Sir Richard had engineered to so make sure that his daughter would live comfortably. When the King had retired, a large group of people surrounded Tony to congratulate him, and for almost half an hour he shook hands with Sir This or kissed the hand of Lady That. When the frenzy around him subsided, Harriet approached, smiling, and offered her congratulations. "Now you are my knight," she said, taking in his sight with admiration. "And if you will be my lady, what else is there to wish for," Tony replied, kissing her proffered hand. Lady Lambert stepped forward, too, and smiled at him. "Who would have thought this would happen when I told a young lieutenant that he should get my daughter out of his head?" she asked, and both Harriet and her father laughed. "You clearly piqued my ambition then," Tony responded, kissing his future mother-in-law's hand. "You are very good at getting people to do what you want," he added, and the family laughed. "Don't I know this," Sir Richard offered. They heard approaching steps then, and turning, they faced the Viscount Melville who had recently succeeded the Earl of St. Vincent as First Sealord when Mr. Pitt became prime minister again. The Viscount greeted Lady Lambert and Harriet first, nodded to Sir Richard and then shook Tony's hand, offering his felicitations. Then he talked business. "Nepean tells me you have recovered from your wounds?" Tony knew what was coming. "Yes, milord." There was nothing else he could respond. "Agamemnon came in yesterday to replenish stores. Captain Berry is suffering from back pains so severe that he is incapacitated and had to be carried off on a stretcher. There is no way of telling how soon he will recover. There's no time, though. Nelson wants Agamemnon back, he considers her his lucky charm. And Captain, he asked specifically for you to take command." "I can hardly believe that, milord. I met Lord Nelson only once, and I never served under him." "Then I will quote from his letter. 'If possible, put that young firebrand, Carter, who took the Alceste, in command of the Agamemnon.' Lord Nelson's requests carry some weight here. Agamemnon is lying in the Spithead, ready to weigh anchor. Your orders are written as we speak. I am sorry, Mrs. Palmer, to deprive you of his presence, but Sir Anthony is urgently needed off Cadiz." Harriet blushed and nodded. "I understand, Your Lordship. This is not the time to be selfish. Is there still time for him to have lunch with us, at least?" "Certainly. He can take the afternoon post chaise to Portsmouth. Any questions, Captain?" "No milord," Tony responded, "this is a great honour, and I will leave this afternoon." "Good. Once again, Mrs. Palmer, I am most sorry. The command is only pro tempore. As soon as Sir Edward Berry is restored to health, he will relieve Sir Anthony." Melville left a subdued group. Harriet bravely fought back the tears that threatened. "This is a wonderful opportunity for you, Tony," she managed to say. "To be specifically requested by Lord Nelson is a great distinction, and you must be proud. Let us hurry." "Harriet, dear, I do not know what to say. This is something I cannot refuse. You know that I planned on staying ashore until we can marry, but to turn down a command in the current situation would seem like dereliction of duty." "Never say another word, Tony. Your duty is with your new ship. Let us just hope that you will return soon." Later, at the Lamberts' house, when they were left alone by her parents, Harriet pressed against him, giving her tears free rein. "I don't want to lose you," she sobbed, "please don't get hurt again." Tony felt bad himself. "Harriet, I promise, I will return to you as soon as possible. Let us just hope for a speedy recovery of Captain Berry." "Do you think the French will make a sortie?" "I have no idea, darling. But if Lieutenant Bourdichon is to be trusted, then nothing short of an imperial order will make Villeneuve come out of Cadiz. He has no trust in his captains and will not give battle if he can avoid it." Tony had interviewed the wounded second lieutenant from the L'Alceste, and had picked up some information from the grateful young officer. Harriet was composed during and after lunch, but when Tony finally climbed into the coach which had drawn up in front of her parent's house, her lips trembled, and she was white as a ghost. The sight of her was like a stab for Tony, and it took him hours to regain his mental balance. He arrived in Portsmouth after dark. Mrs. Blacket was still up, as was John Little, and they helped him pack his sea chests. After a short night, Tony, accompanied by his faithful coxswain, went down to the harbour. A signal from the fort prompted the Agamemnon to send the cutter. Under oars, they made their way out into the Spithead where the Agamemnon lay at anchor. She was a good looking ship, like most of the old 64-gun line-of-battle ships, Tony decided during the approach. And she had seen a lot of action, more than most other ships. He should be proud to command this veteran, if only temporarily. "Boat ho!" came the hail from the quarterdeck. John Little stood up and formed a trumpet with his large hands. "Agamemnon!" he hailed back, letting the ship's company know that their new captain had arrived. They hooked onto the chains, and Tony quickly checked his sword and hat before he jumped for the Jacob's ladder. Pain shot through his left leg, and it nearly buckled under him. But he had a good grip already and climbed up on deck with all the dignity he could muster. The boatswains pipes twittered and the Marine band played "Ships of Oak" when he entered through the port and walked aft with a limp. The crew was on deck, and the officers were assembled on the quarterdeck. An elderly lieutenant with greying hair stood to attention. "Lieutenant John Carlisle, Senior Lieutenant, Sir." "Captain Sir Anthony Carter. Kindly call for all hands, Mr. Carlisle." "Already present, Sir Anthony," came the expected reply, and Tony unfolded a parchment from his breast pocket and began to read. "From Mr. Edward Nepean, Secretary to their Lord Commissioners for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral, to me, Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., Captain Royal Navy. "Sir, you are hereby requested and required to take command, pro tempore and at your earliest convenience, of His Majesty's ship Agamemnon. You are to rejoin the Mediterranean Fleet, off Cadiz, under the command of the Right Honourable Viscount Nelson with utmost speed. "Signed, Edward Nepean." Tony stopped for a moment and looked around. The officers and crew looked back at him, obviously expecting something more to explain this change of command. "Your good captain Sir Edward Berry is presently incapacitated and unable to command this ship. Until he has recovered, I will stand in for him as a replacement. Since this is only a temporary command, all standing orders issued by Sir Edward remain in effect. The only change I have to introduce is that I bring my own coxswain, Mr. Little. We are urgently needed off Cadiz, and therefore we will weigh anchor within the next hour. Crew dismissed!" "Hats on," Mr. Carlisle commanded. "On your stations!" Then he turned to his new captain. "Your orders, Sir?" "Are we ready for sea?" "Yes, Sir." Tony looked at the pendant flying from the masthead to check the direction of the wind. The ebb tide was still running. They had no time to loose. "Have someone bring my gear into the cabin and prepare to weigh anchor, Mr. Carlisle, if you please." "Aye aye, Sir! May I say that we feel honoured to have you as our captain, Sir? We have read the report of your action against the Alceste. We had engaged her briefly off Cape Finisterre, Sir, but in that damned fog, she gave us the slip." "Thank you, Mr. Carlisle, it is my pleasure to command this distinguished ship," Tony replied politely, and Mr. Carlisle and the other officers showed their satisfaction at this compliment. A moment later, the windlass began to turn under the effort of forty men. "Up anchor!" came the cry from the forecastle. "Tops'ls and t'gallants, Mr. Carlisle. Sailing master! A course for Ushant, if you please." Within a few minutes, the old battle ship was already in motion. Salute guns was exchanged with the fort, and then the Agamemnon sailed out into the English Channel, heading for her greatest battle. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 13: Trafalgar Captain Sir Anthony Carter K.B., in acting command of HMS Agamemnon, 64, stood on his quarterdeck and watched the huge fleet come into sight. He knew that Lord Nelson had every line-of-battle ship under his command that could be spared for what the Admiralty hoped would be a decisive battle. The two columns of ships, each with 13 sail of the line, were nonetheless impressive. At the head of the weather column stood Victory with her three rows of gun ports, followed by Temereire, another huge three-decker. "Mr. Carlisle, kindly prepare to salute the flag," Tony addressed his 1st lieutenant. "Aye aye, Sir," Mr. Carlisle responded. The guns were cleared in preparation when the signal lieutenant made report. "Signal from flag, Sir: 'No salute'." "Mr. Carlisle, belay that, if you please." The guns were secured again, and Mr. Carlisle joined his captain on the quarterdeck. "Obviously, his lordship does not wish to announce his presence to the French," Tony remarked, and his second in command nodded sagely. The fleet commanded by Nelson stood well out in the offing, Tony noticed, out of sight from the land. Villeneuve was to be left in the dark as to the true strength of the British. "Flag to Agamemnon: 'Welcome back. Report to flag'." "Very well, Mr. Carlisle. Have my gig ready. Giles! My sword and coat!" While the Agamemnon took up a position to the leeward of the Victory, the gig was lowered, and Tony climbed down with some difficulty. His leg, though greatly improved, still hurt considerably. He did not look forward to climbing the side of the huge flagship. Climbing up proved to be easier, though, and Tony entered the Victory's deck through the port to the twitter of four boatswains' pipes. Captain Hardy welcomed him and led him to the great after cabin. Nelson looked even thinner than the first time he had seen him, but he stood to receive him and shook his hand. "I am glad that you recovered sufficiently to replace poor Sir Edward. Your leg does not bother you too much?" "Not at all, milord," Tony lied. To complain of some pain to a man who had given an arm and an eye in the service would have seemed out of place. "Excellent. I need captains who can think in tactical and strategic terms and who do not shy away from the consequences." "Thank you, milord." "You will take up position as Nº 8 in my weather column, between Orion and Minotaur. As I have told the other captains already, and given the opportunity, we will attack the enemy in two columns, behind their van, to break their line. You are to match your ship against suitable targets. Let our first rates take care of the Spanish first rates. Agamemnon is a handy ship, feel free to grasp opportunities when they are offered." "Aye aye, milord. Is there a chance the French will sortie? From what I learned from a captured French officer, Villeneuve is not too anxious to give battle. He seems to distrust the abilities of his captains." "That's an interesting news, Captain, but he will come out. His replacement is already on the way, and our people are feeding this information to Villeneuve. He can either come out to give battle, or be replaced and cashiered. How is Captain Berry, by the way?" "I have not met him, milord. Lord Melville only told me that he was carried off his ship on a stretcher, unable to walk by himself." "A real shame that. Should he return in time, you will stay with the fleet for special services." "Aye aye milord. Should I return to my ship now?" "Yes, by all means. I need to see all those papers their lordships sent me." Tony returned to the Agamemnon and manoeuvred her to her proper position behind Orion. This was a completely new situation for him. He had never commanded a ship in a formation, except for the exercise after he had been given command of the Medusa, three years back. But he had experienced officers; Lt. Carlisle alone had nine years seniority as an officer. He was also ten years Tony's senior. Tony often noticed how Carlisle watched him, probably asking himself how this young man had come to be his superior. But even if he was envious, he was a loyal subordinate who did his best to give his new commander all necessary information. During the next days, the twenty-seven ships of the line, ordered in two columns, incessantly practised tactical evolutions. The two columns would even engage in mock battles. During the first of these, Agamemnon almost collided with her counterpart in Vice Adm. Collingwood's squadron, simply because Tony misjudged her drift. He recognised his error immediately. He had to get used to the fact that he did not command a handy frigate anymore. The 64-gun ship sailed quite differently, even from a big frigate. But over the next days, he got the feel of his new ship, and the Agamemnon held her place in the line with credible accuracy. The confidence that Tony gained was subconsciously felt by his officers and crew, and it inspired their trust in return. They had arrived off Cadiz in late September, and after three weeks, there was still no sign of the French. The weather had been friendly, the low winds uncharacteristic for that time of the year. On the morning of October 19th, the fleet was sailing in good order in a westward direction when new sails were sighted. One was Sirius, 36, one of the frigates that guarded Cadiz. An excited cry from the masthead made everybody jump. "She's letting fly her sheets, Sir!" That was an old signal to warn of the approach of an enemy fleet. Had the French come out to fight? There was a second sail, from the west, which approached the fleet. It was an old acquaintance, the Aquila, one of the ships that brought despatches from England. When she drew nearer, flags rose along her halyards. "Sir, Aquila to Agamemnon: Send boat!" Within a minute, the quarter boat was on its way to the transport. When it returned, a man in captain's uniform was sitting in the stern sheets. Tony did not know the man, but he was certain it was Sir Edward Berry, reclaiming his ship. Tony's forced smile barely hid the disappointment to be relieved of his command almost in the face of the enemy. When the boat was hailed, the coxswain answered with "Aye aye!", showing that an officer was approaching. Berry was not yet captain of the Agamemnon again, but the boatmen hooked onto the weather side chains nonetheless, a prerogative of the captain. The side guard was hastily summoned, and the pipes twittered while Sir Edward entered the ship through the weather port. Tony stepped forward. "Welcome on board, Sir. Captain Sir Edward Berry, I presume?" "Indeed, Sir. And you are Sir Anthony Carter?" "Yes, Sir Edward. Please, after you, Sir." They walked aft to the quarterdeck, and Tony noticed the stiff posture of the other captain. "Sir," the signal midshipman squeaked, looking between back and forth between both captains. "Make your report to me, young man," Tony snarled. He was not yet relieved of his temporary command. "Sir, flag to all: tack in succession." "Very well. Mr. Carlisle, kindly prepare to go about." "Aye aye, Sir." The men looked at Tony curiously. It must be bitter to be relieved when a battle loomed. But Tony had his face under control and showed no emotion. With perfect politeness he complimented Captain Berry into the cabin. "I take it, Sir, that you are relieving me?" "Yes, I am sorry for you. What are your plans?" "His lordship has already decided that I should remain with the fleet as a supernumerary, but he has not specified where." "We shall see. Until further notice, would you consider staying on board as my guest?" "That is exceedingly kind of you, Sir Edward." "Let us not talk about it. I feel bad to supplant such a distinguished if junior captain, but I just could not stay on shore." "That is perfectly understandable, Sir. Do you wish to read yourself back in?" "Yes, let us do it." For a brief moment, all work rested, while Sir Edward read out the order that reinstated him as captain. After that, Tony felt like a fifth wheel, a guest on board the ship he had briefly commanded. Sir Edward was nice enough, even entering in a discussion on the state of the ship. But it was clear that he had been sidelined neatly. He could not help feeling slightly bitter. This state was not to last long, though. Flags rose along the Victory's halyards. "It's for us, Sir," the signal midshipman cried. "Flag to Agamemnon, transfer C-a-r-t-e-r to Royal Sovereign." The boy looked at his captain without understanding. "I think this concerns you, Sir Anthony," Captain Berry said. "Have the longboat ready, Mr. Carlisle. It seems they have a need for you in Collingwood's staff." The last words were addressed to Tony again. Tony had given a quick order to John Little as soon as the signal had been read, and within five minutes his sea chests, along with Little's belongings were on deck. The longboat had been lowered already, and once the dunnage had been stowed in the boat, Tony saluted the quarterdeck and Captain Berry. "Permission to leave, Sir?" Grinning, Berry saluted back. "Permission granted. Bonne chance!" "The same to you, Sir!" As quickly as his leg allowed, he climbed into the longboat. With the large lugsail set, the longboat made a quick dash to leeward where the Royal Sovereign was leading the lee division. At the port, Captain Rotheram, Collingwood's flag captain, greeted him. "Welcome aboard, Sir Anthony! Your coxswain can bring your dunnage into your cabin. Please follow me. Sir Cuthbert is waiting for you." "That is very kind of you, Sir," Tony answered. Rotheram had more than ten years seniority on him, and Tony was careful to show proper respect. They both walked past the marine sentry and into the great cabin. The Royal Sovereign was a 100-gun first rate, and the great cabin was the largest Tony had ever seen. Even the Victory's cabin seemed small by comparison, the Victory being an old ship, built 40 years ago, and a second rate at that. Collingwood was busy dictating a letter, but he stopped when the captains entered. "Welcome, Captain Carter. It's good to have you with us." "Thank you, Sir Cuthbert. May I ask what my duties will be?" "Certainly. Captain Ruark, our Captain of the Fleet, is incapacitated and was shipped to Gibraltar last week. Captain Rotherham will have to fill that gap, and I want you to fill in for him." "You mean for me to command this ship, Sir Cuthbert?" Tony asked incredulously. "Captain Rotherham will still have the command, but you will act under him. He will fill you in. I suggest you acquaint yourself with the officers and the ship while there is time. The French are out, or at least they started to leave Cadiz. Another day or two, and we will be at each other's throats." "Aye aye, Sir. Permission to leave?" "Yes of course. Captain Rotherham, kindly introduce Captain Carter around." When they had left the cabin, Rotherham showed Tony on deck and introduced the officers to him. With his mind whirling, Tony tried his best to connect the names, ranks and faces. "Gentlemen," he said after introductions had been affected, "I sincerely hope that we will get acquainted soon, although there will be hardly enough time." "Captain Carter will do most of the handling of the ship, gentlemen. He commands the ship while I serve in Captain Ruark's function." The officers nodded, curious about this change in command, while Captain Rotherham led Tony into his own cabin and out of earshot. "Do not get this wrong, Sir Anthony. I know of your reputation and your bravery. But you are still a frigate captain, and it showed in your handling of the Agamemnon, at least during the first days. This ship measures over 3,000 tons, and she sails like nothing you ever handled. Try and get comfortable with her but mind that I will interfere when I see that something is going wrong. Can you accept that?" "Please, Sir, do not hesitate to do so. I am aware of my lack of experience, and I will appreciate any help." "Fine. You can use Captain Ruark's cabin on the port side. Do you think you can take over?" Tony nodded. "Certainly, Sir." He turned and left. On the quarterdeck, he nodded to the officer of the watch and began to walk up and down on the weather side, taking in the dimensions of the ship. Briefly after, the 1st Lieutenant, Mr. Croft, showed and asked him whether he wished to inspect the ship. In the next forty-five minutes, Croft gave Tony a tour of the decks, from the 'tween deck through the three gun decks. Tony felt awed by the sheer size of this ship, but he tried not to show it. Once back on the quarterdeck, he thanked Croft, and walked to join the quartermasters at the wheel. He ordered them aside and took the wheel for a few minutes to get a feel of the ship. Laying the rudder briefly, he noticed how slow she responded. He grimaced to the quartermasters. "Is she always like that?" "Mostly, Sir," came the reply from the senior quartermaster, "unless we have a real blow, and then she drifts real bad, Sir." With three decks above the waterline and in the wind, that was to be expected. Tony stepped back. A few minutes later, signals rose on the flagship. "Flag to all, Sir: tack in succession," the signal lieutenant reported. "Very well," Tony sighed. "All hands, if you please," he addressed the officer of the watch. At the call, more than 800 men streamed on deck and on their stations. "Man the braces!" Tony's command made it clear that he wanted to perform the manoeuvre himself. He watched the Victory intently. There, the signal was hauled down, and the Victory's bows turned into the wind. "Quartermasters, helm a-lee!" Ponderously, the Royal Sovereign turned into the wind and her sails flapped. She carried an enormous momentum, Tony observed. They were through the wind already. "At the lee braces, pull!" The braces were hauled, and the yards swung around. The sails filled again with the weak breeze, and the Royal Sovereign was on her way again without the loss of a single fathom. Captain Rotheram had appeared behind Tony. "Excellent timing, Carter," he commented in a low voice. "You will get the feel of her in no time." Tony grinned back. "I was almost as nervous as when I commanded my first manoeuvre back on my father's sloop," he answered in a low voice. "Oh, I didn't know you were a real sailor," Rotherham commented with a touch of surprise. "I was second mate in my father's sloop before I joined the Navy, Sir." "I was twelve when I started as a cabin boy in an East Indiaman," Rotheram grinned. "It's good to know you're a real tar." With a nod, Tony indicated to the officer of the watch to take charge again. While Rotheram went below to confer with Vice Adm. Collingwood, Tony retired to his cabin to change into a clean shirt and to rest his leg. Sitting at his desk with his legs stretched out, he continued a letter to Harriet that he had begun the day before, telling her of the strange turn of events. The Aquila was to sail for England the next day, and he wanted to include his letter with the ship's mail. Dinner was shared with Collingwood and Rotheram. Afterwards, Tony briefed the officers and gave orders to avoid all hands calls during the night, if possible, to give the crew enough sleep. The officers had worked the crew on the guns one more time during the afternoon. It had been curious to see how the crew had performed with dogged determination. The men knew perfectly well that their own survival would soon depend on silencing the enemy guns as soon as possible. However, it was also imperative that they had enough rest. The light winds prevailed during the next day, the 20th, while the British ships sailed to meet the French and Spanish fleet. The Aquila sailed for England, and Tony reflected briefly that his letter to Harriet could easily be the last thing Harriet would ever hear of him. Royal Sovereign was leading the lee division, and she would receive the first, well prepared and laid broadsides when they engaged the enemy. He found himself reflecting on his injury, not three months ago. That was not good, he told himself. He needed to busy himself. That went for the crew as well. It would not do well for them to sit idly and worry themselves. He made sure that every hand on board was kept busy during the day. By evening they still had not sighted the enemy, and the tired men gratefully slept during their free watch. Tony was walking along the quarterdeck, planning for the next morning, when Rotherham came on deck. "Good evening, Sir," Tony greeted him. "Good evening, Sir Anthony," Rotheram answered, approaching him. "I noticed that you kept the lads busy. Good thinking. No use if they think too much about tomorrow." "That's what I thought, Sir. That way, they will hopefully sleep tonight and be rested." "How about you? You've been injured, what, three months ago? How do you feel?" "Slightly apprehensive, Sir, to be honest. I am not as agile as I wish I were, with that sore leg. Let's hope there will be no boarding fight." "That's not what I meant, Carter." Tony grinned. "A bit uneasy, Sir. There is a lot to be uneasy about. Will I be able to handle the ship properly? Who will we be matched against? And, of course, will I keep my nerve? But to give truth the honour, I am mostly worried about the first point. If we meet the French, our actions will be scrutinised by all the second guessers back home." "True," Rotheram conceded. "They expect a complete victory, and nothing less. There's a lot of pressure on Nelson. With St. Vincent out of office, he has lost his main support in the Admiralty." The Earl of St. Vincent, a lifelong Whig, had been replaced as First Lord of the Admiralty upon the second ministry of Mr. Pitt, a Tory. "Then we just have to do our best tomorrow and hope it will suffice." "Well spoken. I, for my part, will turn in, and you should, too. Tomorrow will be a long day." That was a good advice, in all likelihood, but Tony did not dare to turn in. Not with the enemy about to show. Not with the responsibility for a first rate. Seeing that his new captain planned to stay on deck, Mr. Croft offered a deck chair that Tony gratefully accepted. Wrapped in a boat cloak, he even dozed a little bit, but with the first light of dawn, he was up again. The combined French and Spanish fleets were in sight. A signal was made on the Victory, ordering a general chase, and the two columns adapted a course to intercept the enemy. Villeneuve had given up his attempt to sail for Gibraltar and the Mediterranean and tried to make for Cadiz again. For this, the French sailed close-hauled on a Northern course in the light WNW wind, making them slow compared with the British ships, which held the weather gauge and sailed before the wind. However, during the morning, the wind died down more and more, and the slow approach taxed the nerves of all involved. In the Royal Sovereign, the tension was palpable, too. The men had had breakfast early, and then the ship had been cleared for action. Since then, there had been nothing to do, and that was bad. By ten o'clock, a signal was made by Victory: 'England expects that every man will do his duty'. Collingwood called for all hands and relayed Lord Nelson's message to the crew. Some of the men felt insulted; they did their duty all right and did not need to be reminded anyway. Others, however, nodded with grim resolution. Their slow approach continued. As the French had aborted their attempt for the Mediterranean and changed to a northerly course, their battle line was in complete disarray. Each of their ships had turned at their own leisure, or so it seemed, and in the light wind, they found it hard to reach their respective position in the line again. The British lee column, with Royal Sovereign in the lead, also did not present a perfect line, but Collingwood scorned the idea of delaying the approach to get a better order. Royal Sovereign, with her fresh copper bottom, had drawn ahead, while Mars was lagging, and it was clear now that they would engage the French and Spanish line somewhere near a huge Spanish three-decker. "Captain Carter, kindly try and cut the enemy line behind the big Spanish ship," Collingwood ordered. "Aye aye, Sir," Tony answered automatically, studying the enemy through his telescope. Yes, it would be the point where they would engage the enemy. They were within gunshot range now, he estimated. Suddenly, the side of the big Spanish ship was clouded in smoke. Two fountains of water shot up, five to six cable lengths ahead. They were not quite in range yet, or the officers had misjudged the roll of their ship. It was the latter, because of the next broadside, one shot struck in their hull. One man was wounded by splinters and carried below. "Officer of the watch, please enter 'Begin of engagement at six bells' in the log," Tony ordered in a casual tone. He walked up to Collingwood. "Sir Cuthbert, we are in range of the enemy." "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Collingwood answered with the same casual tone of voice. Of course he had observed the hit, but it was Tony's duty to inform his admiral. "Another hour before we pass them?" "Most likely, Sir Cuthbert. A good three miles." "Quite, Captain." Tony turned to Rotheram. "Sir, do we have music in the ship? It might cheer the men up a bit." "There's a fiddler, Thomas is his same. Have him play on the upper deck." Tony passed the word for the man Thomas. The man appeared, grinning in a self-conscious way. He put the fiddle on his shoulder and started to play a popular tune. The men on the upper deck quickly picked up the rhythm, and started to slap their thighs with the tune. A few even began to dance on the deck, provoking shouts of encouragement. In the meantime, and at Tony's orders, water was distributed along with some biscuit. There was no telling when the men would get their next meal. By now, the Spanish broadsides were coming regularly. Some shots holed the sails, slowing their approach even more. Others crashed into the bow or forecastle, doing little damage. But a few actually crashed into the upper deck, showering the men with splinters. One of the cutters was hit and destroyed, and a work party hoisted the remains over the side. With unbearable slowness, they neared the enemy line, and it was clear that they would cross it behind the huge Spanish ship. "That would be the Santa Ana," Rotheram remarked. "120 guns she carries." "That'll fetch a pretty penny of prize money, Sir," Tony grinned. "We only have to convince them to strike." Rotheram grinned back. "I hadn't pegged you as a fire eater." He turned to Collingwood. "Sir, do we proceed? Mars has fallen behind; we will be alone for quite a while." Collingwood shook his head. "This cannot be helped. We're in range anyway, and I'd rather we hit them back. Make signal to the squadron, 'Engage the enemy more closely'!" "Aye aye, Sir," Rotheram grinned. "That will ruffle some feathers." Tony approached Collingwood. "Permission to open fire when my guns bear, Sir Cuthbert?" "Yes, Sir Anthony. I don't have to tell you not to waste the first broadside?" "No, Sir, I don't think so," Tony nodded with a faint smile. They were close now, and the Spanish broadsides began to have effect. Again and again, men were wounded and carried below while their rigging suffered greatly. The boatswain and his men were constantly aloft to repair the frequent damage to the rigging. But as Collingwood had said, that could not be helped. Thomas the fiddler had been hit by a flying splinter. Surprisingly this fact infuriated the crew more than anything else, and many a man swore revenge. But now that they came close to the enemy line, the Spanish gunners on the Santa Ana could not bring their guns to bear anymore. "Up helm just a bit," Tony ordered. He wanted to cross the stern of the Santa Ana as closely as possible. Now he could see the wonderful stern gallery of the Spanish ship. It towered even above the Royal Sovereign, but little would remain of the ornate carvings, Tony thought. It was time now. They were crossing behind the Santa Ana and in front of a French two-decker. Tony raised his speaking trumpet. "All men, stand by your guns! We'll render passing honours. Make sure of your aim! Runner, my compliments to Mr. Bowen and Mr. Thorpe, ready to fire as soon as the guns bear!" The latter officers were in charge of the two lower gun decks. It was very quiet on deck now as everyone readied himself. Tony noticed John Little behind himself, his ebony face a mask of determination. "Back the maintops'l!" Tony roared trough his trumpet. Tony raised his sword and put the battery pipe to his lips. When he blew it, the 48 guns of the port side batteries spouted fire. The two huge 68-pounder carronades on the poop deck recoiled with a deafening roar, and Tony envisioned how the huge canisters of grape shot exploded between the decks of the Spanish ship. Now they were ready to fire at the French ship to starboard, and Tony blew the whistle again. The starboard batteries fired and Tony could see how the foremast of the two-decker leant forward. There were two or three French ships ahead and, as Tony watched them, they opened fire. Just when the port side guns fired at the Santa Ana again, they were hit hard. The mizzentop came down, and then the maintop was hit, too. Shouting for the boatswain, Tony pointed up to the maintop, leaning back. In the middle of that movement, something tore at his uniform coat. Looking down, Tony saw that a bullet had ripped clean through the cloth right under his armpit. Had he not leant back and pointed upwards with his left arm, that bullet would have hit his left chest. He swallowed, feeling dizzy for a moment. The crash of the starboard broadside brought him back to his senses. The lower mainmast was crawling with people who tried to clear the wreckage away. Now the foremast was hit with a huge crash and flying splinters. It was still held by the shrouds, though, and tottered around in the recoil of the broadsides. Tony gave orders to secure the foretopsail and bring down the yards. The men climbed up gingerly, holding on to the swaying wreckage, but it was a necessary task to avoid additional damage. A crash behind him made Tony whirl around. The sight made him physically sick. A round shot had smashed through the group around the steering wheel. The mangled remains of a man were lying about, hardly recognisable as the sailing master, Mr. Chalmers. One of the quartermasters had lost his leg; the blood was pumping from the stump. Within seconds however, the iron discipline prevailed; the wounded man was carried below decks and a replacement took the post at the wheel while the senior master's mate rushed aft to take the position of his dead superior. The carpenter came to report, giving Tony a chance to tear his gaze away from the mayhem. They had received just one shot hole under the waterline so far, and his men had been able to stop it. They were still firing into the Santa Ana and the French two-decker. The Santa Ana was a complete wreck as seen from her stern. The great galleries were gone and replaced by gaping holes where the 68-pounders had carved their path. The French ship was barely better off; having lost both her fore and mainmasts, she had turned into the wind, presenting her starboard side to the Royal Sovereign, and getting pounded. The Royal Sovereign's gun crews were still firing at a high rate, Tony noticed with satisfaction. From the upper deck upward, the ship was a mess, but little damage had been done to her gun decks. The smoke from the guns enveloped them like heavy fog. Looking aft, he noticed that finally the Bellisle was coming up to their support, with the rest of the lee column close behind. It was about time. Looking at the hour glass, he could hardly believe that they had been in action for almost thirty minutes. Looking to the North, he saw the Victory engulfed in smoke, leading the windward column. The Euryalus frigate was standing close to them now, and Captain Rotheram was shouting with a huge speaking trumpet. Of course, Tony realised, with their masts gone no signals could be hoisted. As Rotheram shouted through the trumpet, signals rose on the halyards of the Euryalus. Collingwood came over. "How are we faring, Captain?" he shouted over the noise of the battle. "We can't manoeuvre, Sir, but the hull is intact and all the guns are firing. We are doing pretty good." He looked at the foot of the mainmast, where the dead had been piled. "Not too many casualties, yet, either. As long as the gunners find targets, we can continue the action." "Very well, Captain, keep it up! I would hate to shift my flag while the action is not yet finished." "Thank you, Sir!" "Sir, sir," the signal midshipman squeaked, "Victory has lowered the flag." They all peered to larboard where the Victory's masts were visible over the smoke. Nelson's flag was not flying anymore. He must be wounded or dead. Collingwood's face became a mask and he set his jaws. "Captain Rotheram, kindly have Euryalus hoist the signal 'From flag, continue action, engage enemy closely.'" And the battle raged on. They had to cease their fire while the rest of the lee column sailed past the Royal Sovereign and engaged the French and Spanish ships beyond. The din from the gunfire became almost unbearable. The Santa Ana had ceased to fire back, wallowing helplessly in what little waves there were. The French two-decker had stricken, too. There was little to do for the Royal Sovereign, Tony realised, save for securing the prizes and their own ship. He also noticed that his leg hurt like hell, seeing that he had been walking the deck since morning, with hardly any sleep in the night before. He limped about the quarterdeck, organising the clearing of wreckage, the detailing of men to the various tasks at hand. He was so immersed in these tasks that he almost failed to notice Collingwood who stood before him. "The French are striking. I need to shift my flag to Euryalus to keep things organised. Well done, Captain! Captain Rotheram will take over now, but I would ask you to stay and help him." "Certainly, Sir. My congratulations, Sir, for this great victory." Collingwood's face clouded. "Euryalus just received signal from Victory, Lord Nelson is dead." Tony swallowed. "Then, Sir, allow me to offer my sympathies." Collingwood nodded. "The Navy will not be the same without him. There is the boat from Euryalus, good luck, Captain." Tony watched as Collingwood crossed over to Euryalus and then as Collingwood's flag was hoisted in the frigate. He shook off the misgivings. They had won, and he was alive. Most importantly, there was a huge amount of work to do. Captain Rotheram approached him. "I'm sorry, I must relieve you," he said apologetically. Then he looked around and cracked a weak joke. "What a mess you made of my ship, Captain!" "I am most sorry, Sir, but you should have never allowed a frigate captain to sail your ship into battle," Tony answered with a lopsided grin. He almost stumbled when Rotheram whacked his shoulder. "You did well, Carter, I couldn't have done better. Look at the big Spaniard! We pounded her into submission. If only Nelson could have lived to see this." Now were there, or were there not tears in Rotheram's eyes? Yes, the man mourned his Commander in Chief. Tony felt sad, too, but there was no time. "Sir, we need to clear the wreckage and somehow build a jury rig. At the last sounding, we only had thirteen fathoms of water, and there is a weather coming." "You are right, Carter, there will be another time for mourning." The weather indeed looked threatening. A storm was brewing, and they were in no shape to get clear of the lee shore that loomed ahead. "Sir, flag to fleet. Nº 12, anchor," the signal lieutenant reported. Both captains looked at each other. "Do we still have an anchor cable?" Rotheram asked incredulously. The boatswain was despatched to check the bow anchors and came back to report. "We've lost both bowers, Sir, cables shot through clean." "Then we need a jury rig, and fast. The foremast must go first, though. See to it. Another work party will have to set a new mainmast. Captain Carter, can you organise the mainmast party?" "Aye aye, Sir," Tony answered wearily and began to organise the men he needed. The boatswain had checked the spare spars under the main deck. There was a spare main course yard that would do. The weary men began to clear away the remainders of the mainmast. Another group set to rove a new set of shrouds and stays, while the carpenter worked on a makeshift top. The storm was getting closer, and the men laboured hard. A twenty foot stump of the old mainmast was left, and this was where the huge jury mast could be lashed to. When the spar had been moved on deck, the new shrouds fastened at the make shift tops, the men began by pulling the stays with the windlass, raising the new mast inch by inch. Another group controlled the backstays, preventing the new mast from toppling to the sides. Once the new mast stood, with the stays and shrouds belayed, a topsail yard was brought up with a spare fore course. Once the sail was set and the braces pulled, the Royal Sovereign transformed into a sailing ship again. Captain Rotheram used what little way they could make to get the ship to windward, every yard would count later. While one of the lieutenants, for the love of God Tony could not remember his name, oversaw the rigging of a new maintop, Tony set up a new party for the rigging of a jury mizzenmast. They needed the leverage of sails aft; otherwise they would not be able to heave to, or to beat to windward. Wild shouts made him look up from the work. Somehow, the Euryalus had passed a towline to the Royal Sovereign. How a 36 gun frigate could hope to tow a three-decker from a lee shore was beyond Tony's comprehension. Well, the more sails they could set themselves, the more chances Euryalus had to tow them. When the storm hit them, it looked like all their efforts had been in vain. The huge ship could not be controlled with her jury rig, and the dead weight made the situation for the towing frigate precarious. For more than two hours, they drifted helplessly towards the shore. Then a miracle happened. The wind began to shift to a northerly direction, in fact driving them away from the dangerous coast and towards Africa, with a hundred miles of open sea before them. The exhausted men had even managed to rig a new foremast, and when the night fell, the towline could be cast off. The Royal Sovereign was holding her own in the heavy weather. Around midnight and on direct orders from Captain Rotheram, Tony limped into the remnants of his cabin and fell onto the cot, face first. He slept fully clothed until the next morning. A runner woke him from his sleep of exhaustion. He looked up at the man with the lantern with bleary eyes. "Captain Rotheram's compliments, Sir Anthony, and would you join him for breakfast on the quarterdeck in fifteen minutes." Tony needed a few seconds to digest the information and to become aware of his surroundings. Yes, he was in the Royal Sovereign, and yes, they had fought the French and Spanish yesterday. They had somehow made it through the storm, too. He looked down on his rumpled clothes. "My compliments to Captain Rotheram, I thank him for the invitation, and I will join him in a quarter of an hour. Please, pass the word for Mr. Little, my coxswain." With aching joints, he shed his grimy coat, his breeches and his shirt. When Little showed, obviously the worse for wear, too, he sent him for water to shave and wash. The shave and the sponge bath reinvigorated him to a certain degree, and a fresh shirt and breeches made him presentable. "What shall I do with this ruined coat, Sir?" Little asked, holding up the uniform coat with the bullet hole under the armpit. Tony thought. "Tuck it away somewhere. Perhaps Miss Wilson can mend it. That'll give you an excuse to hang around Inés," he could not help adding. His grin was returned by Little. "Thank you kindly, Sir Anthony," he replied. Once he had started moving, the pain in his limbs went away. When Tony reached the quarterdeck, a table had been set on the shot-torn deck, and Captain Rotheram had clearly gone into his cabin stores. "Have a seat, Carter," Rotheram shouted jovially. Tony had one, and his host sat on the opposite side. Looking around, Tony noticed that a lot had been accomplished during the night. There were three masts with topmasts now. Clearly, parts of the tottering foremast had been put to use. With a shiver, Tony also noticed the bundles of canvas that had been laid out at the foot of the mainmast. He forced himself to count. There were almost fifty dead. "How did we fare, Sir?" he asked sombrely. "Forty-seven dead, at the last count. Ninety-seven wounded. Lt. Gilliard is among the dead, the master, too." "I saw that, Sir. We were very lucky, I think. That storm could have finished us." "Indeed. But let us break our fast, now, and rejoice in the knowledge that we have survived and won one of the greatest battles ever." Rotheram rose his glass. "To the memory of the immortal hero who won his last and greatest victory yesterday!" "May he live on in our memory forever!" Tony answered solemnly. They both emptied their glasses. Turning his attention to the table, Tony realised that he had not eaten since the last morning. He was famished, and, to judge from the speed with which the various delicacies vanished from the table, so was Rotheram. After breakfast, Rotheram looked at his watch. "My respects to the chaplain, we'll begin in ten minutes," he addressed the First Lieutenant. And to Tony, "That is the worst part of it, don't you agree?" He meant, of course, the burial ceremony. The dead, sewed into canvas and weighted with round shot, were to be buried. Tony briefly envisioned the dead Admiral Nelson. He would be transported to England for his burial, of that there was little doubt. A rum barrel was the preferred container for dead admirals to prevent decomposition. Tony quickly dressed in his uniform coat, cocked hat, sash and star and hooked his sword to his side. He stood by Rotheram's side while the chaplain went through the ceremony. It was a good idea, Tony thought, to wait with the burial until the next day. The men were rested now, the worst damages repaired, and they could spare an appropriate amount of time to honour those who had made the ultimate sacrifice. During the following days, Admiral Collingwood's most important task was to assemble his fleet and the prizes. With the latter, he was not as lucky as many men wished, since the escaped vanguard of the French had attacked some of the prizes and had come away with the Santa Ana and three more ships. While the loss of the prize crews and prize money was something to lament, Tony wished the French much luck with the beat-up Santa Ana. When all the ships under his command had assembled in some form of order, Admiral Collingwood issued individual orders to the captains. Most of the ships had sustained more or less severe damage. Some ships could be and actually had been repaired at sea; some were to sail for Gibraltar to affect the necessary repairs. Some ships, like the Royal Sovereign and the Victory had suffered damages that surpassed the capacity of the Gibraltar dockyards and perhaps any dockyards. The Royal Sovereign, for instance, had lost two of her lower masts. The lower masts of a first rate could not be found in Gibraltar, they could only be transported by specifically designed ships and required a large shear hulk to be set. Therefore, the Royal Sovereign and others, escorted by the prizes, sailed for Portsmouth. Tony remained on board as supernumeral although he had been offered the command of one of the prizes. He did not want to deprive any of the subaltern officers of the distinction of bringing a prize into Portsmouth Harbour. The weather was rough for most of the homeward journey, but they had a favourable wind and made it to Portsmouth by the middle of November. When the ships of the Mediterranean Fleet cast anchor in Spithead, the church bells of the city began to toll and the townsfolk assembled at the harbour. Since he was without immediate duties, Tony was one of the first officers to land. He was anxious to send a letter to Harriet as soon as possible, assuring her of his safe return. There was a crowd at the quay, Tony noticed. When Tony climbed up the stone steps, the people cheered him. Bewildered, he looked around. "Welcome, home, Captain," a man exclaimed. "You fought at Trafalgar, Sir, didn't you?" Tony nodded, perplexed. "How was it, Sir?"; "The Frogs stood to their guns, this time, didn't they?"; "How did Lord Nelson die?" The people peppered Tony with their questions. He did not know what to reply, which question to answer first. Suddenly, an alley opened in the mass of the people through which a red-haired woman in a black dress rushed. A second later, Tony found himself in Harriet's embrace, her lips pressed against his mouth, and tears of joy running down her cheeks. Edited by Duffiedawg A note to my readers: At first, I was very hesitant to let our hero participate in the probably best documented naval battle of history. Numerous articles popped up in the internet during the last weeks about Nelson's last victory, and the names of the ships and captains involved can be researched easily by anyone with an internet provider. Thus, to add a fictitious ship to the British line for our fictitious hero would not do. The other option would have been the Alexander Kent way, to add a little skirmish to the context of Trafalgar, in which Tony and his ship would be involved, say, in the defeat of an additional French squadron that would otherwise have tilted the battle towards the French side. But all the other actions of this year 1805 have also been rehashed in numerous articles in the context of the bicentennial of Trafalgar. Therefore, there were two options: leave Tony at home to let his leg heal or let him participate as subordinate officer. I chose the latter approach, which allowed me to add this great naval engagement to my story without distorting the facts too much. I did a lot of research to get the facts right about the battle itself. If I erred in some details, please be lenient. After all, I try to write erotic fiction; I am not a history professor! ------- Chapter 14: A Mistake For a week, Harriet had stayed in Portsmouth, ever since the news of the great victory had reached England. From her father, she already knew that Tony was not among the dead or wounded of the battle, but she wanted to welcome him on the quay, welcome him and comfort him, like her mother had done for her father whenever possible. "Harriet, darling," Tony exclaimed when she broke the kiss "You here? What a wonderful surprise!" Harriet, her dignity notwithstanding, silenced him with another long, soulful kiss. "Now, that's a reward fit for a hero!" a man exclaimed admiringly. Suddenly self-conscious, Harriet looked around. "We had better go, Anthony," she whispered, "my coach is waiting." "Where to, where are you staying?" "I was at the Golden Cross, but Mrs. Blacket insisted I stay at your house. And seeing that you were at sea, we both thought it were proper. You don't mind, do you?" Tony laughed. "Of course not, my love. There is not a person on earth I would prefer staying in my house." They had reached the coach, and Little loaded his captain's sea chest onto the wheelbarrow of a porter. While Little accompanied the man, Tony helped Harriet into the coach and followed her. Within minutes, they had reached Tony's house. It was nice to return from a voyage and get a warm welcome, Tony decided. Mrs. Blacket was at the door and expressed her happiness at seeing him in good health. She had hired a maidservant at Tony's behest, and that girl curtseyed nervously when presented to the master of the house. Her name was Elsie, and she blushed deeply when Tony welcomed her to his household. Her eyes widened in horror, though, when John Little arrived with the sea chests. "Don't you worry, Missy," he rumbled in his deep voice, grinning at the frightened girl, "I have stopped eating girls many years ago." The girl blushed even more, but Harriet nudged Tony side. "That's not what I hear from Inés Ruiz," she whispered with a cheeky grin. Tony chuckled and addressed the girl again. "Mr. Little is my coxswain and confidential servant. Just be nice to him, and he will be nice to you." Elsie nodded. "Go and 'eat water for laundry, girl, ze Captain will need clean shirts," Mrs. Blacket ordered, sending the girl into the kitchen. "If you will excuse me, Sir Anthony, I will prepare ze dinner." "I will have to take lodgings at the Golden Cross again. Mother insists on maintaining the facade, and I suppose she is right." To Harriet's delight, Tony showed his disappointment. "I must not stay the night in a bachelor's house, but I can certainly visit him during daytime. And if, quite by chance, the servants have to run errands during my visit..." She left the sentence unfinished. "Can I entice you to a dinner in town?" Tony asked. "Another time. Mrs. Blacket is already busy with dinner preparations, and I want you to myself tonight. I have great news, darling, that I need to tell you." "What news?" Tony asked. "You'll have to wait until after dinner, my darling," Harriet grinned mischievously. Tony groaned. "We're not even married yet, and you start keeping things from me," he complained. "After dinner, love," Harriet smiled. "When I will tell you, I want to bring a toast." Tony's curiosity was surely piqued, but he resigned to waiting. The playful mood Harriet was in bode well, and he did not want to spoil her little game. Harriet went up to her room to pack her belongings, and Tony accompanied her to the Golden Cross Inn, where she took lodgings. Her coachman carried her luggage into her room, and then they rode back to Tony's house. Dinner was ready when they arrived. Nadine Blacket has roasted a whole ham on a spit. Fresh potatoes and carrots completed a delightful dinner, and Harriet and Tony enjoyed it. They both complimented the housekeeper on the food. Tony was happy. He had a well-organised household now, where he could expect excellent cooking. He was set to marry a wonderful woman, still young and beautiful, but mature beyond her years and fully appreciative of his qualities. Harriet broke into his reveries with her news. "You know, darling, that you will be appointed to Asia. What you do not know yet is that Asia will serve as flagship to Rear Admiral Sir Pierce Fallon who will be in command of the Barbados Station. You will be flag captain, darling," she beamed. Tony raised his eyebrows. "Darling, I was thinking of asking for extended leave. I don't want to marry you just to leave you again. I want to spend some time with you, settle down. How can you stand to be separated again?" Harriet beamed at him. "Because, Sir Pierce has just married. Lady Fallon has no plans to stay alone in England for three years. She will accompany her husband to the station, and he plans to take her in his flagship when he sails." "And how does this avail us?" Tony asked although he started to see the point. "I do not plan to stay alone in England for three years either," Harriet stated matter-of-factly. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander. And I am sure that Lady Fallon will appreciate my company during the long crossing. Also, Barbados is supposed to boast a very pleasant climate, which is more than can be said about England. Isn't it wonderful, darling?" Tony swallowed. "You mean you will come to Barbados with me if I go?" "Sure. I loved Jamaica, I really did. Barbados is said to be even nicer, and you will be on shore a lot. Father tells me that Asia is sent only to provide Sir Pierce with an adequate flagship. It will be almost a sinecure post for Sir Pierce and you. They think you earned it, at the Admiralty." "They do, don't they," Tony replied, warming to the idea. "Well, I will be the last to complain. We can rent a house in Bridgetown for you. I can remain in the active service and still see you regularly. Do you know Fallon?" Harriet smiled. "He was father's First Lieutenant in the Superb when I was a small girl. I still remember him. He must be in his mid-forties, but his wife is younger than me. Her father is a wool merchant and wealthy, or so I heard. Sir Pierce spent the last years with blockade duty in the Channel Fleet. He was knighted after Aboukir." "So, it's all arranged?" "Of course," Harriet replied loftily. "I will not allow anything to interfere with our future. Sir Pierce is delighted to have secured you as his flag captain. You may not be aware of it, but you have a stellar reputation in the service." Tony shook his head. It would be wonderful to remain in command while going home to his wife in the evenings. Barbados, with its nickname "Little England", was one of the most pleasant places in the Caribbean with a warm yet temperate climate, and free of the diseases that plagued other islands. He had been there twice in his youth, and once as lieutenant in the Medusa, and he had liked what he had seen of Bridgetown. He was warming to the prospect. There still was one point to be clarified. "When do we have to leave for Barbados? Do you know that, too?" "Not before March, I think. At least, that is what Father said." That sounded reasonable. After all, Asia still needed repairs and a crew. "Any news from your brother, yet?" "Didn't you know? He is in harbour. When the French tried to sortie from Brest, Cornwallis intercepted them and drove them back. Medusa received hits under her waterline and came in for repairs." "Any casualties on board?" Tony asked. "Five wounded, which is what Andy told me. None of them seriously, though. They were lucky." "Is he in Portsmouth, then?" "Yes, as a matter of fact he is." "Why don't we invite him for dinner one of these days?" "That would be lovely. You know that you are still his hero, don't you?" "Well, he should have found better idols in the meantime," Tony laughed. "And Lucy is not in town?" "Lucy is in Exeter. Her uncle, the one that would not take care of Lucy and her siblings, he died last week. Lucy's brother and sister lived with him, but they are not of age, yet. She will have to take care of them. It appears that her uncle has left his estate to his nieces and nephew, so Lucy will come into some inheritance, it seems." "That's good for her. Obviously, she was not really close to her uncle, was she?" Harriet snorted. "He was too miserly to help her then, and he stayed that way until his death." They continued to talk about common acquaintances and other events until the small hours when Tony accompanied Harriet to the Golden Cross. When he returned home, he went to sleep and did not wake up until late in the next forenoon. He started his day with a hearty breakfast. In spite of her French roots, Nadine Blacket did not begrudge her employer a real breakfast. He pampered himself with scrambled eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes, he enjoyed fresh, buttered toast with jam, and he drank his fill of coffee. Nadine Blacket had the knack for roasting coffee beans to his liking. Thus satisfied, Tony controlled the mail that had accumulated in the last two months. One of the letters came from Sir Robert Norton, the London merchant whose guest he had been at Anita's premiere. He thanked Tony for bringing him in touch with the agent of Whitney & Cie, stating that he had reached a favourable shipping contract. Tony smiled at that. Landing a customer like Sir Robert would have tremendous impact on the shipping company in which he held a sizeable interest and likely increase his own earnings. Other letters were from gentlemen who wrote to express their admiration for his conduct in the battle against L'Alceste. He had received such letters before, but they still made him uncomfortable. Pushing the letters to the back of his desk, he suddenly noticed an envelope he had missed. Looking at the handwriting, he blanched slightly. Quickly, he cut open the envelope and started reading. My dear Anthony, please forgive me for not writing earlier. I have no excuse for that. From Harriet, I learned about your quick recovery from the wounds you sustained, and I am happy for you and her that you two have been reconciled. But I am also saddened by the realisation that I have lost a man that I care for more than I wanted to admit to myself. You were right, of course, in that we had something beautiful between us. But it was I who discouraged your courtship. When I realised that poor Harriet was in love with you, I felt so noble in my attempts to bring you two back together. Only when I had succeeded did I feel the pain of giving you up. That is why I could not come to visit you. This is why I shunned poor Harriet who did nothing wrong. But I need to clean the slate and be honest. I hope that you will not hold against me that I still care for you. I have no intention whatsoever to bring discord between you and Harriet. I have also sent a letter to her, telling her how I feel and why I have been so distant to her. I hope that she will forgive me. This being said, I would ask you to visit me, together with your lovely bride, when you will next come to London. My deeper feelings for you notwithstanding, I do not want to lose your and Harriet's friendship. Yours truly Anita Tony was moved by Anita's letter. She was a wonderful person, and thinking of her made him conscious of the fact that he, too, still had strong feelings for the beautiful actress. He had loved her more than enough to consider marriage. Even if his feelings for Harriet were stronger, this did not diminish the accord he felt whenever he was with Anita. Tony dressed quickly and walked the short distance to the Golden Cross where he had himself announced to Harriet. He had to wait only five or six minutes before she rushed down and into his embrace. "Hello, dear," she smiled. "Did you sleep well?" "Well, I slept long," Tony answered. "What are your plans for today?" "How about a stroll? It's such a nice weather for a change, and I never had the chance to stroll with you yet." "Let us take a walk then," Tony replied, smiling. She was right. The stroll, so common an entertainment among young lovers, was something they had missed completely. He offered his arm to Harriet, and together they walked out on the street and into the autumn sun. They directed their steps towards the harbour. Tony briefly scanned the ships at anchor. He recognised Medusa immediately. She looked the worse for wear, had to, after more than a year of blockade duty. L'Alceste was also lying at anchor. She only carried her lower masts, and the standing rigging. Obviously, the dockyard had been able to repair the underwater damage since Tony could not see the pumps going. Royal Sovereign was lying close to the dockyard with a large shear hulk alongside. Harriet cast a look at him. "Satisfied?" she asked. "Yes, I am," he answered. Looking at Harriet, he decided to broach the subject of Anita's letter. "I received a letter from Anita. She apologised for not coming or writing earlier." Harriet nodded and smiled at him. "Yes, I received a letter, too. She invited us to visit her when we will be back in London. I am so happy that she still wants to be our friend. What did she write?" "More or less the same," Tony replied, contemplating on whether to tell Harriet all. He decided for it. "She wrote me that she realised how much she cares for me. She assured me that she would never try and interfere with us two, but she had not been ready to see us." "Let us see her, Tony, and assure her of our friendship. I could not stand losing her." Tony put his hand on Harriet's. "I am glad you think like this, Harriet. It took a lot for Anita to write those two letters. Let us write an answering letter together, to show her that we feel alike about her." When they returned from their stroll, Mrs. Blacket handed Tony a large linen envelope with the seal of the Admiralty. Casting a look at Harriet to ask forgiveness, he ripped the envelope open. It was his appointment to be sure. Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., Captain RN High Street, Portsmouth Sir, you are hereby requested and required to assume command of His Majesty's ship of the line Asia, formerly L'Alceste, of 80 guns, to be fitted out for service at the Royal Navy Yard in Portsmouth Harbour. You are to supervise the repairs and reconstruction in progress and to assemble her crew. A list of available officers and warrant officers is in attachment Nº 1. HMS Asia, having been selected as flagship for Rear Adm. Sir Pierce Fallon, KB, will serve on the Barbados station. You are to report on your progress to their Lordships and to Sir Pierce on a regular basis. You are furthermore advised of the regulations for the enlistment of crew, voluntary and involuntary, as laid out in the attachment Nº 2. Furthermore, you are relieved of the command over HM frigate Clyde, to be succeeded by Captain Fortescue, RN, effective upon receipt of these orders. Your obedient servant James Marsden Secretary to their Lords Commissioners for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral The letter contained no additional information beyond what he already knew, but he could read himself in within the next days. It was nice of their lordships to appoint him to Asia so early, moving him up two notches in the pay scale, seeing that Asia was a third rate ship. He decided to visit the dockyard that afternoon to inform himself of the state of repair Asia was under. There were the two attachments, the hand written list of available officers and warrant officers and a printed sheet with the guidelines for the pressing of sailors. Tony snorted derisively. If the captains of the Royal Navy followed these guidelines, only half of the ships would be in service. The Royal Navy had over 500,000 crews, while the total population of Great Britain was scarcely twenty million, all told. Therefore, any able-bodied man, and even some women, could find themselves pressed into the service. He looked up at Harriet. "These are my new orders. They just confirm what you told me. They appointed me to the Asia. I will have to visit the dockyard and check on the progress made with her." Harriet smiled back. "You can do that after lunch. I shall busy myself writing a letter to Lucy." After lunch, Captain Sir Anthony Carter had himself rowed out to his new command. There was only a small anchor watch on board under the command of a lieutenant. He knew the man, it was the young officer who had been the "friend" of Mr. Sykes. For a moment, Tony tried to remember the name, yes, Galbraith was his name. "Mr. Galbraith, kindly call for all hands!" "Aye aye, Sir!" All hands was a total of perhaps six dozen men, all told, who were engaged in the various aspects of converting a French ship into a British. Sail makers, gunners, a purser, boatswains, carpenters, and the like. They all looked at him as he read out his appointment. After that, Tony inspected the ship and had himself informed on the tasks to be done. Apparently, the ship had to be docked at least once more to replace three knees on the starboard side that had been found partly rotten upon close inspection. They could not expect to get this done before Christmas. Then Tony inspected his new quarters. Fortescue had been right. The after cabin was impressive. Even if it had to be split two ways to accommodate an admiral, there would be ample space for him. He began to make a mental list of things he wanted to have in the cabin, but he would wait until he had a chance to speak to his admiral. There was not much he could do, and he returned home. He spent a half hour to write a report which he then had delivered to the Naval station to be included in the despatches to the Admiralty. When he was finished, he collected Harriet at her lodgings, and they had dinner together. After dinner, they sat in Tony's study. Harriet had a sheet of paper and a pencil, and they were going through the list of people that should be invited to the New Years Eve soiree in her parent's house. They would announce their engagement at this opportunity, and Harriet's mother was anxious not to forget any of their closer friends. "I am so happy that Andrew is back. Perhaps he and Lucy can announce their engagement, too. Wouldn't that be lovely?" "Maybe they want to have a separate event?" "We have to ask Andrew when he comes to visit. It's strange that he did not call yet." "I suppose, he is quite busy. Medusa had been at sea for more than a year, and she is not a new ship anymore. There will be plenty to do for him." A knock at the front door interrupted their musings. They heard Mrs. Blacket answer the door, and a few moments later, Mrs Blacket announced their visitor. "Sir Anthony, Mrs. Palmer, Miss Lucy is 'ere to see you!" "Lucy!" Harriet cried happily, rising from her chair as did Tony. "I was hoping to find you here, Harriet. I was at the inn, but they told me you had left with Sir Anthony." She spoke with a strange, strangled voice, and her pale face and rings under her eyes showed that she was under a strain. Harriet sensed her friend's distress and put her arm around Lucy's shoulder. "What happened, darling? Was it that bad in Exeter?" "Exeter? No. That went well. I am a rich woman now. My siblings and I will share into more than twenty thousand pounds. My uncle was a miser, but a rich miser." Her voice had not shown any emotion when she related this news. It was as if she did not care. "Then what happened?" Harriet insisted. "While I was in Exeter I received a letter from Andrew. It was forwarded from your house. He informed me that he cannot marry me." There was stunned silence in the room. Tony was the first to recover from the shock. "Why on earth would he do such an utterly harebrained thing?" A twisted smile was on Lucy's lips when she answered. "I am not the right kind of woman for an aspiring officer. He has freed himself from his childish infatuation, as he calls it." Harriet was on the verge of tears. "Oh Lucy," she said, "I'm so sorry, so ashamed. How could he do this to you? I will talk to him. He must be brought to reason." "Don't waste your time, Harriet. He has already found another woman. He asked me not to call upon him; obviously his new bride does not know about me. He wrote that he will give you money for me, for a fresh start!" She sobbed. "That was the worst. Offering money like I was his kept woman!" Harriet's concern turned into anger. "That is it? He wants me to handle it so he doesn't have to face you? Just you wait, Andrew Lambert! I shall give him my mind, never fear! The outrage!" Watching his wife-to-be work up her temper, Tony's mind turned toward practical issues. "Should I ask Mrs. Blacket to ready a guest room for you, Lucy? It's too late to find lodgings now, and you must be exhausted." "It would not trouble you?" "Lucy, I think the World of you! You were here for me when I was wounded. Now you have been hurt, and I'll be happy to help you in whichever way needed." Harriet had come out of her tantrum. She was quiet now, but not appeased. "This is not the end of it, Lucy. My brother will meet you face to face, and he will apologise for his conduct if he ever wants to speak to me again." "Harriet, don't cause a split in your family over me. I will go to London, pack my belongings, and move out." "Lucy, where do you want to go to? You don't have to leave my house. It's true, I took you in because Andrew asked me, but you are more to me now than any sister-in-law could ever be. Please, reconsider. Think about it. Think of our friendship." For the first time, the paleness in Lucy's face was replaced by a blush. She hugged Harriet fiercely. "You are a wonderful friend, Harriet. If I move out, it will be within London. I have grown to like the city, and I could not return to Exeter. There are too many bad memories there. I need to take care of my sister and brother; I could not possibly burden you with them. We will be able to see each other." Tony asked Mrs. Blacket to ready a guest room for Lucy, and Harriet accompanied her friend to her room. A half hour later, Harriet returned alone. "She is asleep. God, I am so mad at Andrew!" "There is nothing we can do tonight, Harriet. Let me bring you back to the Golden Cross. You must be tired." Harriet looked up at Tony. "Can I sleep with you tonight? I am so wrought up. I need some safety tonight. Please?" Instead of answering, Tony put his arms around her shoulders and led her upstairs and to his room. There, they quietly undressed. Tony, in his shirt, rummaged through a chest of drawers until he found an old shirt of his from his boyhood. "Take this to wear," he offered Harriet. "My mother made this for me. It is the only thing left from her, I can't wear it anymore, but it should fit you." "Thank you, darling," Harriet answered, her eyes again brimming. She stepped out of her clothes and stood naked for a moment, before she put on the offered shirt. Together, they slipped under the covers of the large bed. Tony blew out the candle and drew the bed curtains shut. Then he put his arms around Harriet and held her close while she put her head on his chest. Her hair tickled his face but he enjoyed her closeness. "Tony, you will not do such a thing to me, will you?" "Of course not, how could I? You are my inspiration, darling. If I were an artist, you would be my muse. Do not think for one moment that I could let go of you. You are my life." Harriet sighed contentedly. "You say the nicest things to me. Do you know what I just remembered? Those nights in the longboat when I would sleep in your arms and feel protected. And you did the most delicious things to me back then." "I remember that too. Without you, I would not have found the strength to get us through. Bringing you to safety was my driving force. I could not let anything happen to you. I was so afraid to be a failure in your eyes. I desperately wanted your respect." "Do you think your parents would have approved of me?" Tony thought for a moment. He found it harder and harder to remember his mother. He had been quite young when she died and so much had happened since then. And his father? Hard to say. John Carter did not show feelings. Only once, when his mother had died, he had seen emotions from his father. "My parents loved each other very much. They would have approved of you once they were convinced of your love for me. But I don't think they could ever envision how my life would turn out. My father's ambition would have been to own a bigger ship, for me to follow in his footsteps, and a dignified retirement as a ship owner." "But that's a worthy ambition!" "Yes, it is. But it is a world apart from what I set as my goals. Before I met you, I would have been content with a life like my father's. After I met you, I felt this drive to achieve more, to be eligible for you. And worthy of your consideration." Harriet was feeling tired now. But she mumbled a friendly reply. "If that was your goal, you achieved it long ago. Let us sleep, darling. Tomorrow will be the first time that I will wake up in your arms." She kissed him with tenderness before she laid her head on his chest. Tony sighed contentedly. He was lucky, he mused. Not everybody found the happiness they deserved. Tony awoke to a pleasant sensation. During his wake up, he had dreamt of Harriet and how they made love. He was aware of an extraordinary erection, and his erection was surrounded by warmth and softness. Slowly, the cobwebs cleared. Harriet was gone from his arms where he had felt her all through the night. He lifted his head to look for her. In the dim light that filtered through the curtains, he could see her reddish mane covering his groin, moving up and down in measured cycles. Harriet's mouth, obscured by a mass of red hair, performed wonders on his cock. Her hands, equally hidden from his sight, massaged his rod while her lips and tongue on his glans made him tremble with excitement. Torn from sleep like he was, he knew that he did not have any control over his quickly rising lust. He decided that he did not care. This was too exquisite a feeling. He luxuriated in the sensations Harriet's lips and tongue caused him until, with a moan, he went over the edge and filled her mouth with his seed. She sucked and licked him clean, causing ripples of aftershocks in his groin, until he had to put his hands on her head to stay her. Harriet made a show of gulping down his spend. "Did you like that?" she grinned up at him. "This was certainly the best wake up call I ever received," he smiled down at her. She scooted upwards and snuggled against him. Kissing her, he caressed her back. When his hands reached her buttocks, he felt bare skin. The shirt she was wearing had ridden up, and he cupped the firm globes with tenderness. Sliding a finger between her cheeks, he reached her slit which was positively dripping juices. She moaned into his mouth when he let his finger explore her nether lips, alternately brushing her love button and penetrating her folds. He kissed her firmly and moved down along her body. Grinning up at her, he dipped his tongue into her belly button. "My turn," he grinned at her sharp intake of breath. He moved between her legs, and she readily opened herself for him. He paused for a moment, then he softly blew air on her sensitive button, which had risen from between her folds. Then he let his tongue explore her opening, moving from bottom to top, without touching her exposed clitoris. Her hips undulated under his caresses, and she tried to entice him to touch her most sensitive spot. He resisted for a while, letting her build up her tension. When he felt her ready, he extended the swipes of his tongue upward, licking over her engorged sex. She began to whimper, and the undulation turned into a bucking motion. When he felt her close, he inserted first one, then two fingers into her love tunnel, driving her closer and closer to her impending release. When he sucked her little love button between his lips and grazed it ever so lightly with his teeth, her hips lifted up from the bed and she remained rigid as a board for almost half a minute. A high-pitched wail came from her open mouth, and she collapsed on the bed. Chuckling, he kissed her twitching sex once more and moved up on the bed to take her into his arms. When Harriet came to, he rocked her in his arms. With love filled eyes, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply, tasting her own juices on his face. "I can hardly wait to consume our love, Tony. But this is wonderful, too. Do you think we can kiss each other like that even when we will be married and will do it in the regular way?" "I hope this will be part of our regular ways," Tony smiled. "This gives me great pleasure, too, and I would hate for us to dispense with it." "We have to get up. I hope that nobody overheard us. Did I scream?" "A little," Tony chuckled and elicited a blush from Harriet. "That's your fault then," she retorted. "Let me dress to preserve what little of my dignity is left." When they went downstairs, they found Lucy and Mrs. Blacket in the dining room preparing the table for breakfast. Both tried hard not to grin, and it showed. "All right, you two. Leave it be. You embarrass me," Harriet exclaimed. Mrs. Blacket hastily rushed back to the kitchen, her shoulders twitching with suppressed giggles. Lucy did not feel compelled to hide her merriment. She giggled at Harriet, causing the latter to blush furiously. Harriet was ready to bolt, when Lucy got up and took her into her arms. "It's all right, darling," she soothed her. "You two are happy, and you deserve it. Don't feel ashamed. But it was so funny when you entered the room!" Finally, Harriet saw the humour in the situation and laughed uneasily. "I suppose, I have to keep my voice down," she said sheepishly. "It's not like I haven't heard you like that before," Lucy whispered in her ear, causing Harriet's furious blush to return. "Lucy, stop teasing her," Tony interjected, trying in vain to suppress a smile. Fortunately, the table was set for breakfast, and the lull in the conversation gave Harriet time to regain her composure. After breakfast, they talked about their plans. It was agreed that Tony and Harriet would travel to London. The engagement would be at her parents' home on New Year's Eve, and there were preparations to make. Tony would have the dockyard keep him informed on the progress, and he would be able to settle a lot of things in London. Lucy would also go back to London, continuing to live with Harriet initially until she found a suitable property. Harriet was relieved that her friend would stay. The next days were spent settling their affairs in Portsmouth. Tony was able to secure two more officers, and he charged them with the fitting of Asia during his absence. He would get reports on a regular basis, and he set aside funds for the recruiting of a crew. Finally, all three of them settled in Harriet's coach for the trip to London. It was early December and the temperatures, while not freezing, were decidedly unpleasant. Covered in blankets, they kept warm as best as possible, but they were grateful when the driver finally announced their arrival. As agreed on earlier, Tony would stay at the Lamberts' house as their guest for the holidays. He was greeted warmly by Lady Lambert and given the same guest room he remembered from his first stay in London. In the evening, Harriet, Lucy, and Moira McTaggart came over for dinner. Lady Lambert greeted Lucy with warmth. "Lucy dear, I cannot say how sorry I am about Andrew's change of heart. I only learned about it last week, and I can't say that I approve of his behaviour towards you. Do you need anything, dear?" Lucy was pale, but she showed no outward sign of emotion. She even managed a brave smile. "Thank you, Lady Lambert, for your kindness. No, I don't need anything. I will stay with Harriet for a little longer until I find a property for myself. Due to my inheritance, I can take care of my own, but I value your offer." Lady Lambert nodded, impressed with Lucy's conduct. "I have a stupid son," she sighed. The dinner was actually pleasant. Tony had to recount the Battle of Trafalgar for his hosts. Sir Richard congratulated him on his conduct, but he had some news, too. "You know that there will be no further honours for you? You did not officially hold command during the battle and Rotheram was still rightful captain of the Sovereign. I heard however that, on Collingwood's urging, the other captains agreed to let you have a captain's share of the prize money." Tony smiled. The former news was insignificant. He was a full knight already, and they almost never appointed a captain to Knight Commander or to Baronet. Well, Thomas Hardy would be made Baronet, but he had been Nelson's flag captain. The more important point was the prize money. It was certainly generous of his brother captains to grant him a captain's share. More importantly, Collingwood, in his official report published in the Gazette, had made full mention of Tony's role during the battle, commending him for his handling of the Royal Sovereign. He was a veteran of the Battle of Trafalgar as it was called by the papers, and the report said so for everyone to read. "I don't care much. I was there and part of it. Sir Cuthbert's report made that clear. I am one of the 'the happy few'." Another news his future father in law revealed was that Clyde was lying in the Pool of London, for refitting. "Fortescue's received his formal appointment last week. He appears to be a worthy successor to you. I don't envy him, though. He had to give Calder transportation to London. The court martial will be next week. By the way, your testimony will not be required." "That's a relief," Tony said, and he meant it. To give testimony in a court martial against a vice admiral was tricky business for a lowly captain. "How long will Clyde stay?" "She will have to dock from what I hear. In the mad rush in summer, the repairs were inadequate. And in winter, repairs take longer. Why are you asking?" "I was going to ask him to be my best man," Tony replied. "We developed a good friendship, and with Lucy serving as bridesmaid to Harriet, asking Andrew would be in bad taste." Lucy blushed and wanted to protest, but was cut short by Harriet. "Don't even start it, Lucy. You will be my bridesmaid, as will Anita if I can talk her into it." That was the cue for Lady Lambert. The list of guests to be invited for the New Year's soiree had to be assembled in order to get the invitations out, and the four women sat down at a corner table. From time to time, Tony and Sir Richard were asked their opinions, but Harriet and her mother were in their element. The planning of events got into high swing over the next days and weeks. Tony did not see much of Harriet most days. A week after their arrival, they went to the Theatre. Harriet had arranged the evening with Anita Heyworth. They watched her play and met her afterwards for a late dinner. The evening began in a strained atmosphere. Anita was not at ease, and neither were Harriet and Tony. It was Harriet who finally broke the ice. They were sitting at a private table in a restaurant and had finished the main course when Harriet spoke up. "Anita, this evening is not going right. You bared your soul in your letters, now it is our turn. Tony and I will marry. I suppose it is a match that was meant to be, and we are both happy together. I know that you were close to Tony, and this was good for him and for me, because you were willing to give him up for me. I know you had second thoughts. I can understand that, because I love him dearly myself. It was the right decision, nevertheless. Don't misunderstand me, I know that Tony cared and cares for you strongly. He would have never got over me though; even married to you, he would not have been able to forget me. I would have been the spectre to haunt you, making your marriage miserable. Can you accept that Tony and I were meant for each other? Because, if you do, we can offer you a place in our hearts as our dearest friend." Anita looked at Harriet for a while, and the ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "Harriet, you make me proud. Are you the same woman who was afraid of her own shadow just two years ago? I know that you and Tony were made for each other. Do you really mean that, that we can remain friends? That would mean a lot to me." Both Tony and Harriet rose from their chairs and walked around the table. The other guests looked on with interest as the young woman and the Navy officer embraced the famous actress with affection. Once they had sat down again, Harriet broached the next subject. "Anita, do you know that I am still short one bridesmaid? I have Lucy and Moira already, but if you were to be my third, you would make me very, very happy." Anita nodded and smiled. "I would not miss your wedding for the world, Harriet, and it will make me proud to be your bridesmaid, although I am not much of a maiden," she sighed. "I think that applies to many bridesmaids," Tony said drily, causing easy laughter of the two women. "Do you have a prior engagement for New Year's Eve, Anita?" Harriet asked. "No, not yet. Why?" "Then consider yourself invited to a New Year's soiree at my parents' house. Our engagement will be announced at the start of the New Year." "I will come for sure. I hope Lucy will be there, too. I haven't seen her in ages." "Of course. Oh, you have not heard the bad news yet: my stupid brother broke up with her." "Oh no! How is she holding up?" "She was terribly upset. It was not so much the fact itself than the cavalier way Andrew let her know. But she is over it, at least outwardly. And yesterday, Dr. Wilkes called, you know the surgeon who treated Tony. He wanted to ask Lucy about some of her herbal medicines. He wanted to stay only briefly, but once it transpired that Lucy was free again, he stayed for over three hours. I don't think they talked poultices all the time!" Anita smiled. "That's Lucy! She never was one to cry over spilt milk. She is the strongest of us, she really is." Tony quietly chuckled during this last exchange. Unbeknownst to Harriet, he had visited with Dr. Wilkes, to have him look at his injured leg which still troubled him somewhat. During that visit, he had mentioned the fact that Lucy's engagement was broken. Suddenly, Dr. Wilkes had become quite excited. Obviously, he had taken less than a day to find an excuse to visit her. "I think, we should invite Dr. Wilkes, too. I owe him personally, and perhaps Lucy would like to have a table partner." Anita laughed. "You two are up to something!" she accused. "Be honest. Who is it that you have picked for me?" Tony and Harriet laughed. "Don't worry, Anita. There is nobody for you. We want to keep you to ourselves." Harriet blushed slightly. Her words were liable to be misconstrued, but Anita simply smiled back. The next weekend, Andrew Lambert was coming to his parents' home with his new bride. Harriet bristled when her mother told her that she expected her daughter to be present to meet her future sister-in-law. Lady Lambert was adamant. She might not approve of Andrew's conduct and choice, but Harriet would show proper behaviour. Grumbling, Harriet conceded, but she was not happy. The next Sunday, Tony walked over to Harriet's house to pick her up. In spite of her misgivings, Harriet had clearly gone through pains to look her best. Lucy saw them off. "Harriet, don't upset your family for my sake. I am over Andrew already. Look forward! Anyway, the girl is the least to blame." Harriet nodded, and took Tony's arm. Together, they walked the short distance to Cavendish square. Andrew Lambert was already there, and the greetings were strangely formal. "Good morning, Sir Anthony!" the younger Lambert greeted Tony. "May I congratulate you on your resounding successes?" "Thank you, Andrew," Tony answered, careful to relieve the formality. "Please, call me Anthony or Tony. After all, we will be related by marriage shortly." "I was very happy to learn that you and Harriet are reconciled. Harriet, you look wonderful. It only took the right man to bring out your beauty again." "Flattery will only get you so far, Andrew. I haven't forgiven you yet," Harriet answered uncompromisingly. "Harriet," her mother admonished her, "you promised to be polite." "But I am polite, Mother. And in all politeness I have to state that Andrew behaved in a way that made me ashamed of him." A young woman moved forward. Very young, dark haired, pretty in a shy way, and very pale, Tony summed her up. "Harriet," Sir Richard interjected, "may I present to you Miss Louise Camden-Hill, your brother's affianced bride. Miss Louise, my daughter, Mrs. Harriet Palmer." Harriet checked, took a deep breath and looked at the girl. In spite of herself, she found the girl appealing at first sight. She saw eyes that were almost pleading for forgiveness. Harriet remembered Lucy's words. It was not that girl's fault. She was able to give the girl a friendly smile. "I may be angry with my brother, but none of his failings are your fault. I am pleased to meet you, and I hope we will be friends once we get to know each other." The girl's relief was palpable. "Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Palmer. How should I address you? Mrs. Palmer sounds so..." "Inappropriate?" Harriet finished. "Well, I never relished being addressed as Mrs. Palmer anyway. I will soon be Lady Carter, but I would ask you to call me by my first name. I am Harriet." And she stepped closer and hugged the girl, kissing her cheeks. "And this is my future husband, Captain Sir Anthony Carter." Tony bowed. "Anthony, if you won't mind." There was one more introduction to perform. Lieutenant Horace Camden-Hill was the girl's brother. He was also First Lieutenant of HMS Medusa. To Tony, that explained how Andrew had come to know his new bride. The dinner began in a strained mood, but Harriet went out of her way to be friendly to her brother's bride, and soon the atmosphere became lighter. When Andrew, his bride and her brother left, Andrew asked Harriet for a short face-to-face. "Harriet, I know that I handled the situation badly. Mother has already dressed me down. Do you think it would be possible to speak to Lucy? I want to apologise to her for the way I treated her. How does she feel?" Harriet looked at her brother for a moment. "Andrew, if you are not sincere about your apology, if you just want to do it to appease mother, leave it be. You have hurt Lucy bad enough already. She is over you, or so she says. I will ask her if she wants to see you. If she says no, you will stay away from her. If she agrees, I will let you know." "Thank you, Harriet. I am honest in my apology, I promise. The things I wrote sound horrible even to me, now that I think about it. I want to take care of her and see to it that she will have a living." "Andrew, but that was the worst! You made her feel like a kept woman with your offer of money. She is very much aware of her relative position, but she promised to you because she honestly cared for you. And she does not need your money. She came into a substantial inheritance. She only stays with me until she has found a suitable property to buy, and because I asked her to stay with me." "I am sorry, Harriet, I really did not want to insult her. I will apologise for that, too." "Be honest with her and she may forgive you. She has a big heart." When the guests had left, Lady Lambert rushed to her daughter and hugged her. "I am so proud of you today, Harriet. You have grown into the kind of woman I wanted to raise." "It was easy, Mother. The girl is not at fault for anything, and she seems nice." A few days later, in Harriet's study, Andrew Lambert sat opposite Lucy and pondered how to start. He had been quite surprised at the rather indifferent way Lucy had greeted him. But he was even more surprised at the way Lucy had developed in the last two years. The buxom girl with the sometimes unrefined manners had grown into a beautiful, trim-figured woman with immaculate behaviour and stoical calmness. She flustered him with her open, appraising glance. When he did not find the words to start, she even helped him. "Andrew, you asked for an interview. I suppose you want to tell me something. But shouldn't you start now?" Her tone of voice was a gentle chiding, and it was irritating to Andrew that she seemed so aloof. Haltingly, he began his apologies. It was good that he prepared a concept of what to say and how, and he got it all out as planned. To all his words, Lucy gently nodded as if they only confirmed something she already knew. When he finally finished, she looked at him quizzically. "So, Andrew, why did you not tell me all these things face to face to begin with. Why this degrading letter?" Her tone was still gentle. "Because I was afraid. I had promised to marry you, and I was afraid that you would react with desperation." "So you decided to give me the news so that you would not have to witness this desperation?" Now, there was a noticeable edge to Lucy's voice. "Yes," Andrew said, his head bowed. "And I offered you the money to compensate you for the liberties I took with you. I wanted to acknowledge my responsibility, even if I could not marry you." "Andrew, look at me!" Lucy insisted. "I gave myself to you willingly. I never expected anything from you. Well, maybe I wanted some help, but I certainly did not have my eyes set on a marriage. It was you who insisted on marrying me. And I agreed because I did not want to hurt you. I cared for you Andrew, and I would have done my utmost to be a good wife to you. But it was your idea. And then, after two years, after I had grown to love your family, after I came to see Harriet as my dear sister, you pull the rug from under my feet. And you offered me money as if that was all I had been after. That hurt, Andrew. I can survive without you. But what did I ever do to you to warrant such a degrading treatment?" Andrew's face was burning with shame now. "Lucy, I had no idea. I really did not hurt you intentionally. I apologise from the bottom of my heart." Lucy, her anger and hurt vented, breathed deeply and nodded. "I accept your apology. I hope you will be lucky with your new bride. Now go, Andrew. We will see each other in the future, but right now, leave me be." Andrew was acutely aware of the fact that Lucy had maintained the upper hand all through the conversation. He was confused. This was not the girl he had remembered. This was not the girl he had been so ready to give up when his First Lieutenant, the son of an influential father, had suggested his sister as a fitting bride for his captain. In these minutes, as he walked away from Harriet's house, Andrew Lambert began to realise what he had thrown away. True to her word, Harriet did not shun her brother's new fiancé. For the next Sunday evening, she invited Andrew and Louisa for dinner. Captain James Palmer, for he had been posted Captain a month ago, would also attend, a fact that made Moira giddy with excitement. As a barb to her brother, but also for Lucy's benefit, she invited Dr. Wilkes, too. When Anthony asked her, she maintained innocently that Dr. Wilkes had become a good friend when they stayed in Portsmouth. Tony knew what she really had in mind. In fact, Dr. Wilkes was first to arrive, and he and Lucy paired off because he had brought an old book on herbs for her to see. Tony observed once more that James Palmer looked exactly like his brother, and it took an effort for Tony to mask his uneasiness. Not that Captain Palmer noticed. From the moment of his entry, his eyes did not waver from Moira who led him to the side for privacy. When Andrew arrived with his bride, both Harriet and Tony saw that Louisa was under great strain. She did not smile, she did not speak, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. After dinner, the men sat in Rupert Palmer's old smoking room, enjoying cigars, and the women had their chocolate in Harriet's study. When Moira and Harriet had to leave the room for a moment, Lucy and Louisa were alone. "You need not be afraid of me," Lucy said gently, for she thought that meeting her had caused Louisa's distress. "Are you not angry at me?" the girl asked. "At you? No, why should I? I was hurt and angry over Andrew's behaviour, but I have forgiven him. I assure you that you can eat and drink anything from my hands," Lucy tried to jest. Louisa looked her question. "I am a herbalist, didn't you know?" "A herbalist, like an apothecary?" Suddenly, Louisa showed an interest. "Yes, Dr. Wilkes even wants to write an essay about my healing plants." "Do you know of any plants to help women in distress?" Louisa whispered urgently. Lucy raised an eyebrow. "In distress? Oh! Oh, dear, don't tell me Andrew did this? Is this why he has to marry you?" "Noo! He mustn't know, please. He'd break the engagement. Horace mustn't know either." "Are you two trying to place a cuckoo's egg in Andrew's nest?" Tears welled up in Louisa's eyes. "No, I swear! I did not know, and neither does Horace. He wanted me to get away from home before something like that happened. That's why he arranged the engagement. Can you help me?" Lucy fought a hard fight with herself. An inner voice screamed at her to make all this known to Andrew, to enjoy his embarrassment and shame. She also saw the desperation of the girl sitting in front of her. It took almost a minute, but then her good side won the fight. "There are no herbs that can do what you need without making you very sick and maybe even killing you, Louisa," she said gently. "The only way is for a surgeon to destroy the fruit. There is a problem, though. Good surgeons will not do it. Because, when they are caught, they go to jail or are transported. That leaves quacks who may damage you badly in their ignorance. There are certain poisonous mushrooms, too, that can induce a miscarriage, but that is very risky. Also, they do not grow in winter." "Then there is nothing that can be done?" Lucy shook her head with a true feeling of sorrow. "No Louisa, anything I could do to you could kill you. I cannot risk that. People would think I did it out of revenge, and I would be hanged for murder. Please understand!" Louisa nodded sadly. "I will tell Andrew. He is a good man, and I will not deceive him. Thank you for your friendliness." "Louisa, if you ever need a friend, come to me, will you? I will help you in every way I can." Louisa nodded once more, withdrawing into her shell again. The evening did not last much longer. After the guests were gone, Harriet noticed that Lucy was upset. Asking her, Lucy told her that she could not speak about it. They did not hear from Andrew for several days. In fact, they learned the news from Lady Lambert. And from the newspapers. There was an obituary for James Reginald Camden-Hill, Herald to the Order of the Garter. He had suffered, the papers wrote, a fatal accident while he was cleaning a pistol. Lady Lambert added that Andrew had broken the engagement with Louisa for an unknown reason, and that Horace Camden-Hill had resigned his position on board the Medusa. For days, Harriet was worried about Lucy. She was pale and had lost any appetite. But she was adamant that she would not divulge her reasons. A few days later, Andrew visited. He looked haggard. Harriet, mad as she had been at her brother, hugged him and made him sit. "Well, Harriet, you probably heard what happened." "But why, Andrew? And why did her father shoot himself?" "Hasn't Lucy told you? Louisa said, she confessed to her," Andrew asked, obviously astonished. "Lucy has barely spoken a word in the past days. She says she cannot speak about what happened." "Well, I expected her to gloat over my misfortune," Andrew said bitterly. "You can tell her from me that she is free to speak. Louisa expects a child, and not from me. There is some very dark secret in that family, and old Camden-Hill's suicide confirms my suspicion. They baited me, and I stepped into the trap. I have hurt Lucy and you in the process, too. I can't believe she does not enjoy this. Here I am, the cheated cheater, and she is not laughing her head off?" "Andrew," Harriet said with an edge, "you are forgetting a few things. Firstly, to feel such malicious glee is something below Lucy, and you should know that. Secondly, what about the poor girl? What must she feel now?" "You take her side, after what she did to me?" Andrew sputtered. "Andrew, I don't know what she did. But I know that at least one man was involved in it, too. And as always, the girl gets the blame." "Harriet, I did not come to argue with you. I am upset, and I cannot think clearly. I came for different reason. Honestly, Harriet, do you think I stand a chance to win Lucy back?" Harriet was stunned. "Didn't you write her that she would not be an "adequate" wife for you?" "I know, I know. But I have seen her in the last weeks, and she is so different from how I remembered her. I cannot believe how stupid I was." "She is upstairs, Andrew. If you want to win her back, you must talk to her." Andrew breathed deeply. "I will try." He was gone for almost two hours, but when he came down the stairs, Harriet could see his dejected posture. Looking at her, he only shook his head, kissed her cheek and left the house. Harriet rushed upstairs and into Lucy's room. She found her friend staring into empty space. "Lucy, darling, what happened?" Harriet implored. Lucy snapped out of her empty stare. "He wanted me back. But I can't, please understand, Harriet, I can't. I cannot trust him anymore, and I would always feel like his second choice. Don't hate me Harriet, please!" For the first time, Harriet saw Lucy dissolve in tears, and she rapidly moved to take her into her arms. For half an hour, Harriet sat with a sobbing Lucy in her arms. Finally, Lucy calmed, and Harriet stroked the hair of her friend. "Lucy, I understand that. Andrew will understand it, too. Give him time. Tomorrow is Christmas eve, we will have a private dinner, just us four girls and Tony. We will have no talk of Andrew and his would-be in-laws." Lucy looked up, suddenly concerned. "What about Louisa? She opened herself to me, and I could not help her." "Ssh, Lucy, I will find out about her. You cannot help everyone. We will make sure that she has some help. I am sure the Camden-Hills have an aunt or uncle in Scotland or Ireland where she can have the child. It's the way these things are settled," she added bitterly, for that had been her prospect, too, for a few dreadful weeks. It was a sombre Christmas Evening. Despite Harriet's efforts, Lucy was gloomy, and the mood was subdued. On Christmas Day, of course, Tony and Harriet were at her parents' house. Andrew was there, too, and when Harriet and her mother began to discuss the final arrangements for the engagement party on New Year's Eve, he left the table and went to his room. The rest of the family looked at each other and shrugged, but the mood was spoiled. A week later, the Lamberts' house filled with guests for a much anticipated evening. Friends and family members arrived, and Tony guessed that at least fifty guests filled the rooms. With this large number of visitors, it was not possible to have them seated at a table, and therefore the food and drinks were served as an opulent buffet. This gave an excellent opportunity for the guests to mingle, and Tony found himself the centre of attention, so much, that he rarely found an opportunity to sample the delicacies. Harriet made a point of staying with him most of the time. Andrew made an obvious effort not to spoil the evening, he even greeted Lucy politely when she arrived, but his smile froze on his face when he saw the pleasure that Lucy displayed upon seeing Dr. Wilkes. James Palmer and Moira, now officially engaged, were also moving through the crowd, never leaving the other alone. In the minutes towards midnight, Sir Richard asked his guests for silence. It took a minute or more before everybody was listening. When they heard the church bells that announced the New Year, Sir Richard proposed a toast to the King. When everybody had returned the toast, he cleared his throat. "My dear friends and relatives! This New Year's Evening is a joyous occasion for me. You all know that the past year has been a mixed bag for my family, and my poor daughter Harriet was struck by tragedy." He paused briefly. "I feel all the more delighted to announce today that Harriet has found new happiness. I want you to raise your glasses and drink to the future luck and health of my daughter Harriet and her fiancé, our good friend, our hero of untold battles, Sir Anthony Carter!" A roar of approval and the clinking of glasses drowned out his voice. After a while, he could continue. "I have known Sir Anthony for many years, right from the beginnings of his career. He has not found an enemy too strong or a journey to arduous in the service of our King. Most importantly though, my daughter could not have found a more loving and caring future husband. Welcome to our family, my dear Anthony!" Everybody cheered, and Sir Richard stepped down, pleased with his performance. Now it was time for Tony to answer. "My dear friends and future relatives," he began. People chuckled. "Today is a high point in my life, only to be surpassed in a month of time when we shall see you again for a more solemn ceremony. I want to express my gratitude today, to Lady Lambert, my future mother-in-law, who has been a true friend all through the last nine years. I want to thank Sir Richard, for entrusting me with his most treasured possession. And I want to thank providence for giving me the bride I always dreamt of. Gentlemen, may I trouble you to cheer the future Lady Carter?" Harriet blushed when she bowed to the cheering. She held up her hands. "I have one thing to add: I consider myself the lucky person tonight, and I thank all of you for coming tonight and making this a special memory!" For the next hour, the Lamberts and Tony shook the hands of all the well wishers. Tony's back was sore from all the slapping he received, and he heard enough invitations for tea to last him a year. One of the last persons to offer her felicitations was Anita Heyworth. People craned their heads when the popular actress hugged bride and groom with deep affection. But nobody heard her whisper when she held Tony and Harriet in her embrace. "I love you both!" For the first time that evening, Harriet had tears in her eyes. "We love you too, Anita. You made this evening possible." Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 15: Wedding Bells "Dearly beloved," the priest intoned, "we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained." The priest now got into the flow, and his speech picked up verve. "First, It was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continence might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter and for ever hold his peace." Of course, nobody spoke up, but the priest waited a full minute before he continued. "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful. "Sir Anthony Carter, thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" "I will," Tony answered in a clear voice that echoed from the domed ceiling of the church. "Harriet Abigail Palmer, thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?" "I will!" Harriet proclaimed. "Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?" the priest asked. "I do," Sir Richard Lambert, resplendent in his full Admiral's uniform, declared. The priest nodded, and Tony spoke the marriage vows. "I, Anthony Carter, Knight of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, take thee, Harriet Abigail Palmer, to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth." Harriet took his right hand and, looking into his eyes with deep love, spoke her vows. "I, Harriet Abigail Palmer, take thee, Anthony Carter, to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth." They exchanged the rings, and both felt each other's warmth when their hands touched. This was their moment! Tony spoke again in the prescribed words he had practised over the last week. "With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Harriet and Tony knelt before the priest to hear the prayer. Then the Priest joined their right hands together, and said. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Then the Minister spoke to the congregation. "Forasmuch as Sir Anthony Carter and Harriet Palmer have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." "God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen." The bright light outside the church blinded them briefly, and Tony tried to get his bearings. A hundred sailors from HMS Clyde stood to either side of the entrance and cheered the couple as they exited the church. That was really nice of Fortescue! He knew that the Clyde's crew had known their former captain for years and had allowed a select group to attend the wedding. Other officers were there as well, some of his brother captains on leave in London, and of course, friends and comrades in arms of his father-in-law. Harriet beamed at all of them and waved her hands at the many people who had gathered outside. Behind them, the three bridesmaids exited the church, and the couple turned to hug each of them to the cheering of the guests. "Imagine, you are next," Harriet beamed at Moira, hugging the black haired beauty with feeling. "Don't be so sure," Lucy whispered into Harriet's ear when she hugged her friend. "Really!" Harriet gushed. "He proposed yesterday!" Throwing dignity to the wind, Harriet hugged Lucy again. "I'm so happy for you!" Next came Anita. "Anita, you made this dream come true for me. You will always be a part of us." Anita nodded, not trusting her voice, and simply hugged Harriet back. Then she turned to Tony. "You treat this woman right, or else it's me you will have to face." Tony smiled at her and hugged her. The crowd screamed with delight, and Tony and Harriet turned. Carried on two long spars and by at least thirty sailors, led by the tall form of John Little, the captain's gig of HMS Clyde was presented to them. "I thought you would like to use it one more time, Sir," Captain Fortescue grinned. Tony gripped his hand. "Thank you, this is a wonderful idea!" Lifting Harriet up in his arms - to the amusement of the crowd - he placed her in the stern sheets of the gig. Captain Fortescue helped the bridesmaids into the boat as well, and Tony had to sit beside his bride while the sailors picked up the boat. Followed by the other guests, they were carried away from the church and toward the Golden Cross Inn where the reception would be. The people in the streets looked up with amusement at the merry procession and cheered the couple. In front of the inn, the boat was lowered, and Tony helped Harriet out while Captain Fortescue took great pleasure assisting the bridesmaids. Once inside, Tony and Harriet stood by the entrance to greet their well wishers. Harriet knew most of the people well, but for Tony, a lot of the well-wishers were strangers. There came another man in admiral's uniform, a very young woman at his side. Tony guessed the man's identity which was soon confirmed. "Lady Carter, Sir Anthony, my felicitations! I am Sir Pierce Fallon." "Thank you for coming, Sir, we were afraid the invitation would be of too short notice." "Thank you, Sir Pierce," Harriet smiled. "Oh dear, it's been so many years." "May I present my wife Amanda?" "My felicitations," the young woman said haltingly. "Thank you, Lady Fallon," Harriet smiled. "I am looking forward to your company on our journey." She hugged the young woman impulsively. The open friendliness of Harriet Carter surprised Amanda Fallon. She knew Harriet Carter to have been married to the son of a peer, and she was very much a young woman of the society. Her experience with young ladies her age had not been pleasant. Amanda was the only daughter of a Manchester wool and cloth merchant who had come to wealth during the war. She had been born in a wooden hut, and although her father was rich now and owned a huge mansion in Manchester and she had been sent to excellent schools, she had been an outcast among her age mates, the daughter of an upstart. She had been apprehensive about this wedding, fearing another day of humiliation. A genuine smile broke out on the young woman's face, and she hugged the bride back. "Yes, I think it will be exciting. But aren't you afraid of the dangers?" Harriet laughed and hugged her husband. "I've been through one hurricane with this man already. I trusted him then and I trust him now to bring me safely to any destination. Have you ever travelled by sea, dear?" Amanda Fallon shook her head, feeling stupid. "We will be gone for a week, but maybe, in two weeks, would you want you come and visit me? I will give you a few pointers as to what a woman needs on board a ship." "Oh, could you? That would be so nice!" The Fallons had to move on for the next well-wishers to take their place. When Tony and Harriet had finished shaking all the offered hands, they felt quite drained. It was fortunate that the banquet was ready. Tony and Harriet were escorted to their place at the top of the table. There were no relatives of Tony, which allowed for the bridesmaids and the best man, Captain Fortescue, to sit with the couple. Sir Richard and Lady Lambert framed them from Harriet's side. Over the next five courses, toasts were exchanged across the table, but Tony drank very sparingly. Tonight would be a high point of his life, and he we was not about to spoil it by being drunk. Finally, before dessert, Captain Fortescue stood to deliver the customary speech of the best man. "Dear Lady Carter, Sir Anthony, my dear guests. "As best man, it is my solemn duty at this point to toast the couple. As you know, I have sailed under Sir Anthony on two journeys. On the first journey, he proved to be a perfect knight errand, saving a beautiful lady from traitorous captivity, and escorting her back to her husband's care. I admired his tact then, and I thought that the woman who would find a way to his heart should be counted lucky. After our second journey, when he was severely wounded, this wonderful young lady rushed to his side and she spared no effort to see him to health again. It was then that I realised that my original assumption was wrong. It is indeed him, who must be counted a lucky man to have found you, Lady Carter. Therefore, I raise my glass. May his luck never end!" Tony and Harriet shook Fortescue's hands while the guests voiced their approval. Dessert was served, and after that, the first guests took their leave. It was known that Tony and Harriet would leave London in the afternoon to spend a week on the estate near Maidenhead that was Harriet's dowry. Mrs. Blacket had already left for the place a week before, to get the manor cleaned up and ready for the new owners. Lucy left at the arm of Dr. Wilkes. When they said their good-bye to Harriet and Tony, they chatted briefly about Harriet's plan to accompany Tony to Barbados. "I envy you, Lady Carter," Dr. Wilkes admitted. "I have never been outside of England, and the Caribbean must be wonderful. I am somewhat of a naturalist myself, and it would be heaven for me to see those foreign lands." "Well, I can offer a position as ship's surgeon in Asia," Tony joked, knowing that Dr. Wilkes had a large and lucrative practice in London. He was astonished, therefore, when Dr. Wilkes took the offer seriously. "That is something I have to think about," he mused. "Were it not for Lucy, I think I would go at once. But you should know that I proposed to her, and she accepted. I would not leave her now for all the specimens of the Caribbean." Lucy and Harriet stared at each other. "Harriet, are you thinking the same?" Lucy asked, taking both Harriet's hands. "Yes! Oh, it would be so wonderful! Think about it, Dr. Wilkes. We could have a wonderful time." Tony felt like he had launched an avalanche. "My dears, this is not something for Dr. Wilkes to decide on the spot. He has responsibilities to observe. Personally, I would be happy to have a truly skilled surgeon on board, and to have you, Lucy, with us would be wonderful for Harriet and me. But take your time. We will not be back in London for a week." ••• It was three o'clock before the newlywed couple boarded the comfortable coach that would convey them to Maidenhead. The thick blankets and cloaks had been warmed with heated bricks for the three-hour journey, and the coach was escorted by two armed horsemen. Being held up by highwaymen was not a rare occurrence, and Sir Richard had thought it best to have the couple escorted. John Little sat with the driver, wrapped in a warm sheep skin coat, and Tony himself had his sword and two double-barrelled pistols. Darkness set in shortly before five o'clock, and they were still an hour away from their destination, when, indeed, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, the coach lurched frightfully and came to a jolting halt, throwing drivers and passengers off their seats. "Ouch, what was that?" Harriet asked weakly, groping about in the darkness to orient herself. "I have no idea. Are you hurt, Harriet?" "I bumped my shins, but not badly. How about you?" "I should be all right. Now. let us try and get out." He felt for the latch of the door. There it was. In the dark, he also felt for the pistols and his sword before he opened the door. He still did not know what had happened. In the dim light of the coach lanterns, he could see the two escorts who tried to calm the frightened horses. There came John Little. He limped, favouring his left leg. "What the hell happened, Little," Tony asked irritably. "Damned if I know, Sir. The blasted coach just stopped and I was thrown." "What's with you leg then?" "Bruised my shins, Sir. Nothing broken or so I think, but it hurts like hell." "Harriet, please come out of the coach. This may take a while to sort out." Tony helped his wife out and wrapped her coat around her to protect her from the biting cold. One of the escorts had found the coach driver who was holding his head, blood dripping from a head wound. "Nigh on cracked me scull, Cap'n." He went to examine the damage. "Muckin' wheel came orf, Cap'n. Be a while ta fixit." Indeed, the left front wheel had come off. Using a torch, one of the escorts searched the underbrush to the left side and found it. Luckily, there was no damage to it. After examining the wheel and the axle, the driver declared they could fix the coach. The two escorts and John Little applied to the task of lifting the left front of the coach, but it was too heavy. "Stand here to our side, darling. I'll help them, or we'll have to spend the night here." He threw his cloak into the coach and, bracing his back against the coach, took a good grip. The heavy coach was still barely manageable, but suddenly the weight diminished by a fraction. Surprised, Tony looked sideways to see Harriet with her back against the coach and heaving with the men. She grinned at him in the faint light. "In good times and bad." "Got it!" The driver shouted, and they were able to rest their backs. Harriet then insisted on binding the driver's head wound, making the man mute with astonishment, and it was another twenty minutes before the coach ride resumed. The horses had cooled out, and they could not go fast at first. Thus, it was after 8 o'clock when the coach finally drew up before the manor of High Matcham, Harriet's dowry. Harriet was tired and frozen, and not feeling an appetite at all. She wanted to forego the dinner prepared by Mrs. Blacket and go to bed right away. Tony brought her up into their bedroom. "Harriet, darling, you were very brave today," he coaxed her soothingly, "but you are cold now, and there is no fire up here in the bedroom. I want you to come downstairs with me, and sit by the fire. One of Nadine's hot chocolates ought to bring back the colour to your cheeks. We will have our dinner, we will drink a glass of sherry, and then I will bring you to bed and warm you with my body. Will you come, love?" Reluctantly, Harriet consented. She had to admit that the roaring fire in the living room was a blessing for her frozen limbs, and the hot chocolate she was served renewed her spirits. It tasted strange to her, but good; she did not notice that it had been spiked with a generous helping of Navy rum. The rich chicken soup served for dinner added further to the feeling of warmth, and after the pot roast, Harriet had to concede that this was better than lying in a cold bed. An excellent Madeira wine added to the comfort they felt, and when Tony led her upstairs at ten o'clock, Harriet was almost herself again. They stripped quickly into the night shirts and slipped under the feather duvets which had been warmed with hot bricks. "Tony, darling," Harriet said softly, "I know that you wanted to make love to me tenderly on our first night. But right now, I want you to take me right away. Make me your woman tonight. That's all I want. We can make tender love tomorrow, with the sun lighting this room. But now, I only want to feel you inside." "Do you feel that way, darling?" "Yes, love, make us one." Tentatively, Tony moved to kiss Harriet, but he was surprised by her fierce response. She threw herself at him, almost crushing his nose in the darkness. He felt her hard nipples against his chest, as she pressed her body against his, and his member responded faithfully, rising up and pressing between Harriet's legs. "Yes, yes," she breathed, lifting the hem of her shirt, while Tony lifted his. She opened her legs slightly, allowing his maleness to rub against her sex. Tony put his large hands on Harriet's buttocks, kneading the soft flesh, and worming his index finger between her cheeks and further forward. She was wet, he noticed to his relief, and there was no need to wait longer if that was what she wanted. Lifting himself on his elbows, he moved on top of her, pushing up her shirt to expose her pert breasts. Harriet wrapped her legs around his middle, and he placed the tip of his member against her entrance. "Are you ready, my love?" he asked. "Yes," she breathed, urging him on with her heels. Slowly, he sank into her. He resisted the urge to plunge down, rather taking his time and inserting his member inch by inch. Harriet drew a ragged breath when he was fully seated, and he paused, giving her time to sample the sensations. Suddenly, he felt her sobbing. "Am I hurting you, Harriet?" he asked, ready to withdraw. "No," she sobbed, "I am just so happy. I have waited eight years, and now you are finally mine." "With my body I thee worship," Tony whispered, starting to move his manhood slowly in the tight confines. She fitted him like a well-tailored glove, he found. The soft walls of her sex gripped him softly while he took up a rhythmic in-and-out movement, always pausing at her entrance before going deep into her again. In spite of what she had said, he wanted to prolong this moment as much as possible. The exquisite sensation he felt would make that difficult, he knew, but he strove to maintain control over himself while he luxuriated in her tightness. Harriet had felt apprehension when she felt her husbands engorged manhood at her entrance. For a second, panic welled up when she remembered the only other time she had been penetrated. But this was the man she loved, and she cast aside the bad memories. She also felt that this intruder was far bigger than she had anticipated. Fortunately, Tony took his time, moving in inch by inch, and allowing her sex to adapt to the intrusion. When she could finally feel his pubic hair mesh with the soft reddish down of her own pubes, she realised that this was it. She was his now, and he was hers. Much more than the worn out phrases of the priest, this archaic act wound bind them for as long as she lived. This realisation made her weep with happiness. His words, citing part of the marriage vow, reinforced that feeling, as she felt her husband moving in and out of her in maddening cycles of lust. Slowly, Tony accelerated his pace, feeling her heels dig into his thighs with every inward thrust, and her thighs press against his hips when he moved out. Her laboured breathing had already turned into moans that came from deep within her, the pitch and volume rising with every thrust. He knew now that she would accompany him to that peak of passion he was aiming for. He bent down, kissing her exposed throat while her head was thrown back, her mouth constantly open with the cries of lust that he elicited. Her pleasure spurned him further and further until he felt a white light exploding behind his eyes, and a rush from his loins made him press his member deep into Harriet. Harriet felt the pulsing of the hot member inside her and she knew his release was there. This was the final seal of her marriage, his seed in her womb, and she felt a wave of heat rush over her. She heard a high pitched wail and did not know it was she who wailed. Frantically, she pressed herself against her husband, clinging to him, while she felt the final spurts from his member. If she died right now, her life would have had meaning, she decided. She and her husband were one now, nothing else mattered in this moment. "Tony?" "Yes my love?" "That was wonderful." "You were wonderful, Harriet, my love." "Am I what you wanted, Tony?" "My love, you were more than I could ever dream." "I feel the same. I feel complete now. Whatever the future may hold, I will never forget this night." "And just imagine, we can be together like this whenever we want." "Tony, are you disappointed that you are not the first to enter me?" He pressed her reassuringly. "Harriet, I have something far better. I am the first to make love to you." "You know, Tony, I just realised something important. I have won in the end, and Rupert has lost. I am as happy as I could ever be, and he is nothing but a fading, unpleasant memory to those who knew him." "And look at Moira and his brother. He was not even able to poison their love. Whenever we make love, just think that we have something that his ugly, narrow mind was unable to grasp. And that was his downfall." "Enough of him already. I want to dream of you tonight and of what you will do to me tomorrow." "Why tomorrow?" Tony asked mischievously. "Because this is a small house, and nobody will find any sleep if you make me scream like you did before." "We could gag you," Tony suggested helpfully. "No, I want to shout out my happiness. So let's wait for tomorrow. I want to see you, too. I want to see how you glide into me. Maybe I will have a mirror mounted on the ceiling above our bed." "You do realise that you are slightly crazy, don't you?" "Only crazy for you." The feel of a naked woman was something a man could get used to, Tony decided when he woke up to the soft light of a winter dawn filtering through the curtains. Harriet was still fast asleep, her head on his chest, and her right leg thrown over his own thigh. In the dim light, her hair, with its reddish glow, appeared to be the only coloured thing in the room. What he could see of her face showed peace, and her light snoring made her all the more endearing. She still smelled of the passion with which she had given herself to him, and the combined assault on his senses aroused him in a flash. Yet, he did not give in. The look of her, sleeping in his arm, was too precious. However, his quickened breathing somehow transpired to her, and she opened her eyes. "Good morning, Lady Carter," Tony smiled down at her. A powerful yawn seized her, and she stretched like a cat. Scooting up, her lips found his in the first kiss of the day. "Good morning, my darling," she smiled after she finished that kiss. Looking down her body, she giggled. "Oh dear, did I really sleep naked? This feels naughty but good." "You feel good, you naughty woman." Her hand found his member, already hard, and she caressed it lovingly. "I want that in me," she said in a little girl voice. "Your wish is my command, Madam! Would you rather I mount you or would it please Milady to ride me after your own leisure?" Harriet checked. "You mean, ride, as in... ?" "Yes, straddle me and help yourself to me." Giggling, Harriet threw her right leg over her husband's hip. When she brushed against his stiff member with her leg, she giggled again. When she had positioned herself atop of him, Tony guided his member to her entrance. With a squeal of delight, Harriet pressed her yielding opening against the tip of Tony's cock. Inch by inch, she worked it into herself, pausing only briefly. When she felt she had all inside, she sat up, throwing back the covers. With her hands, she threw her hair behind her shoulders, and Tony gasped at the beautiful sight of his wife, with her slender body and proud small breasts, as she enjoyed the feel of his penetrating manhood. The cool air in the room made her nipples stand out and raised goose bumps all over her body. She quickly huddled down over her husband's body and pulled the covers over her back. "This is something to do in the warmer season," she grinned. With tentative movements of her pelvis, she began to experiment, to find out which angle and what movements gave her the most delightful sensations. Tony just lay back, enjoying his wife's love canal as it gripped his member tightly. He found the position to be of great opportunities, leaving his hands free to explore Harriet's body from her face and throat to her breast, the nipples rising under his touch, down to the swell of her hips and her tight buttocks which he enjoyed squeezing. His filled bladder caused him some minor discomfort, but he willed it away. He began to match his own thrusts with Harriet's movements, eliciting happy squeals from his wife. Harriet bent down further, letting the nipples of her breasts graze over Tony's chest, his soft chest hair tickling her delightfully. She felt him counter her own movements with his upward thrusts, and his strong hands squeezed the globes of her behind. She made encouraging sounds and soon his hands found their way into the crack between those globes, rubbing over her rear opening and causing a wonderful, naughty sensation. Steadily, her passion rose, and instinctively, she matched her movements to her arousal, slamming down hard on her husband's member, and causing it to penetrate impossibly deep into her very core. Looking into Tony's face, she realised that he was very close to his release. The realisation quickened her own pulse and made her even more sensitive to the rod of hard meat that began to pulse in her tight confInés. Suddenly, she felt a second penetration, a finger that pressed into her from behind, stimulating yet another set of nerve endings, and sending her into a wild, bucking frenzy. Dimly, she heard Tony cry, she even heard herself cry out, and she was aware that pulses of semen were pumped into her womb. The finger was gone from her rear opening, and the cock inside her was shrinking already, when Harriet became aware of her surroundings. She lay limply over her husband's body, sweaty all over, and tingling aftershocks in her sex causing delicious spasms. She lifted her head from his chest. "You are still alive, I presume?" Tony asked with a grin. "Barely so," Harriet answered weakly. "Tell me, how many ways are there to make love?" "Hundreds," Tony answered. "We have to try them all," Harriet stated, grinning, and disengaged herself from Tony. "I need to wash, and I need to pee." Fortunately, there was a night pot under the bed, and the cold water on the wash stand was delightful on their heated skins. Washed and dressed, Tony and Harriet walked downstairs and into the dining room. Nadine Blacket met them at the bottom of the stairs. "Good Morning, Sir Anthony, Lady Carter, vould you care for a breakfast? I did not know vhen to expect you, but it should not take more zan a few minutes." "Thank you, Nadine," Harriet beamed at the housekeeper. "I am looking forward to one of your breakfasts." "Would you have coffee or tea?" Tony and Harriet looked at each other. "Coffee," they said simultaneously and then laughed. "Have you seen Mr. Little this morning? I was wondering how his leg is today." "'e is limping, but not badly." "That is a relief," Harriet said. "Look Tony, it snowed tonight." Indeed, a sprinkle of snow had covered the wintry landscape. It looked pretty. "Let us go for a ride after breakfast. I want to show you the land around here." That brought a pained expression to Tony's face. If one term certainly did not apply to him, it was horseman. Harriet saw her husband's disconcerted look and snuggled up to him. "You can't be a country squire if you don't ride your lands," she whispered into his ear. "Don't worry, dear. We'll get you a gentle horse. I cannot have my husband be hurt, there are still hundreds of ways I want to make love to him." The ride was not bad, Tony had to concede. The horse, a sturdy mare, was gentle as the proverbial lamb, and she had a soft trot. They rode northward first, to the dark band of the River Thames that wound through the snow-covered fields. Then they turned eastward along the river until they reached the border to the neighbour's land, some four miles later. Turning south, they followed the border stones until they reached the road leading to High Matcham. They let the horses go in an easy step, riding side by side. The cold air had reddened Harriet's cheeks, and silvery frost adorned the bangs that framed her face. She looked lovely, and Tony wanted to kiss her, but for the precarious hold he had on his mare. "A penny for your thoughts, Tony." Harriet laughed, her breath steaming in the cold air. "I just found that you are even more beautiful than I thought before. If it were possible, I would love you even more, but it isn't." Harriet's blush intensified the colouring of her cheeks. "Thank you, darling. If I am beautiful, then it is for you and because of you. But seriously, what do you think of my dowry?" "I am amazed. The way your father described it, I thought it was a small house on a patch of land. But it is huge! I like the house and I like it that there is a river. You would not believe it, darling, but for a sailor, fresh water is the most precious thing to see." "I love this place. I spent summers here with my uncle, and those summers were happy. Just smell the clean air! Would you mind it very much if we spent part of the year here? I mean, when we return from Barbados? This is a place where children can grow up." Suddenly, she had tears in her eyes. "Harriet, what is it?" Tony asked, concerned. "What if I cannot have children?" Harriet said in a choked voice. "The way Rupert beat me, there may be damage." Bringing his horse closer to hers, he tried to reach over. "Harriet, we don't know that. But the important thing is that it is you I want for a wife. What good would a woman do me if she had children but were not you?" "But you do want children, don't you?" "Oh yes, but this is not in our hands. All we can do is love each other and be confident." "And I love you." "I know you do, darling. Now, let's wipe away those tears and blow your nose." He took out his own kerchief and carefully wiped her eyes dry. When he put it to her nose, she had to laugh despite herself. "I am a big girl already," she said, blowing her nose. She looked at him. "I could not stand losing you. You know that, don't you?" "Didn't you hear my vows, Harriet? We are joined for as long as we both live. For me, it wasn't just a worn-out litany, I meant every word of it." Harriet reached out with her hand. "I am so lucky, darling, to have met you. I have thought about it over the last weeks. Without that hurricane, I would have never been able to acknowledge you as a person. You know how snotty I used to be. I was so sorry for you, because your father perished, but for that storm I wouldn't be as happy as I am today." "Don't you think I could have fallen in love with you without the storm?" "Perhaps, but I seriously doubt that my mindset would have allowed me to recognise your qualities. And frankly, my mother would have hardly recommended you to my father without you proving yourself under such dramatic conditions." Looking up, they noticed that they had almost returned to the manor. Riding up to the stables, they gave the horses to a groom. Mrs. Blacket had prepared tea for them and some cake, and they decided to skip lunch. Rather, they explored the manor. Harriet had been there as a child, but of course, she had only seen the function rooms in the first floor and the guest room allotted to her. Therefore, most of the house was new to Harriet, too, and they made plans on the changes they wanted to introduce if they ever lived there. Later, the caretaker asked Tony for an interview, and presented him with the numbers for the income of the last year. Having dealt with ship's pursers for years, Tony was suspicious at first, knowing full well that a greedy caretaker could get more out of a property than the owner. But Mr. Brown who appeared to be in his early thirties kept his books with painstaking accuracy. Tony decided to try a little bluff in the end. "Very well, Mr. Brown. Everything appears to be in order. Could you give me the lease of these book for a day or two? If I have questions I will make sure to call upon you." "Certainly, Sir Anthony," Brown answered unflinchingly. "You may also want to talk to the tenants, Sir, to verify the entries." Tony laughed at that. "On second thought, Mr. Brown, I might find better ways to spend my stay here. Take those books. I will give you directions where to send the reports during my absence. My attorney, Mr. Hogsbotham in Portsmouth, will be acting on my behalf." "Certainly, Sir. Is there anything else?" "Yes, indeed there is. The returns that you showed me indicate that farming is profitable around here?" "Yes, Sir Anthony. The soil may not be the best, but there are few rocks in the ground, and we have plenty of water for animals." "Do you know of any property around my possessions that may be for sale?" Brown's face lit up with understanding. "Indeed, Sir. Woodbridge Manor is for sale. It is just South of this place. They put it up for sale when the last owner, Mr. Carlisle died, just a month ago. They haven't found a buyer yet, or so I heard, because the income was low. But that was just poor care-taking, I'm sure. With the right tenants, the place could be profitable soon." "Find out what they are asking, will you? I have funds ready to invest, and we may as well enlarge our lands while we can. Of course, it goes without saying that your salary will increase with the responsibility." "I will look right into it, Sir Anthony. Is there anything else?" "No, Mr. Brown, that will be all." Mr. Brown almost ran from the manor. At last, an owner who wanted to invest in the property, rather than squeeze the last penny from the tenants. He had some ideas about improving the roads and building a mill on the river. Perhaps, the new squire would go for that. The returns would be handsome after a few years. With his own income increased, he could also hope to persuade the father of a certain pretty woman to let him take her home. It was almost dinnertime, and Tony went up to the second floor to ask Harriet down. When he came into their bedroom, he found Harriet asleep on the covers of the bed, covered by a light blanket. His tongue in her ear woke her up and she screamed, half in shock, half in delight. Delight won out, though, and she melted in his arms. "It's dinnertime, my love. It smells delicious, whatever it is." He pulled her up from the bed and kissed her once more before he let go of her. Quickly, Harriet sat down before her dresser and checked her appearance in the mirror. Having repaired her tousled hair, she took her husbands arm, and they went downstairs. After dinner, they sat on a sofa before the fire in a small, private living room, kissing, talking, and melting against each other. They even fell asleep briefly, but their were roused by a servant coming in to check on the fire. They did not make love that evening, but they slept naked in each others arms, saving their energy for the next morning. ••• The next day fell into the same pattern as the previous. They made love, they broke their fast, they explored their land on horseback, and they had an excellent dinner after which they cuddled on their sofa. The following day, however, was different. It was a Sunday, and the parson of the village had asked for a formal reception to be held, for the tenants to greet the new squire and his wife. Tony had felt compelled to accept. Therefore, on that cold, sunny January morning, they stood for half an hour in the cold at the top of the entrance steps, while the parson welcomed them in flowery words, expressing the hope that the new squire would feel at home in their community. Poor Tony had to give a speech, too. He managed to express his thanks for the warm welcome and expressed the hope to spend more time on his possessions once "the Corsican tyrant" had been overthrown. He ended his speech quickly, noting the grateful looks of the frozen people. It was inevitable that they joined their tenants for mass afterwards, and, true to his form, the parson delivered a long-winded sermon. After church, Tony and Harriet met a few of their neighbours, country squires rooted in the land, and they exchanged pleasantries. They all expressed their dismay when Tony revealed that he would leave the country soon on for a new command overseas. He was surprised when, outside the church, three youngsters approached him, hat in hand. One of them, obviously the oldest, spoke up. "Begging your pardon, Sir Anthony, but there is a rumour that you are fitting out a new ship?" "That's right, lads," Tony replied, curious where this would lead. "We were thinking of going to sea, Sir." "Why would you want to do that?" Tony asked, slightly surprised. "We're all younger sons, Sir. All I can be here is farm hand for my eldest brother. And we're from Woodbridge. The squire died, and nobody knows what will happen to our father's farms." "You boys have learned your letters and numbers?" Tony asked. A literate volunteer might make a career in the service. "Yes, Sir. We all attended Sunday school with the Reverend, Sir." Tony made a decision. "You boys see the tall black man yonder?" They nodded, showing unease. "That's my coxswain, Mr. Little. He can bring you to Portsmouth where my ship is fitting out. You'll be volunteers. If you learn well, you can go a long way in the Navy. But we'll be sailing for West India, and we'll be gone for years. Think about it once more and talk to your parents. Mr. Little will pick you up on Thursday morning at 9 o'clock if you still want to volunteer. Now go over to him and let him tell you about the Navy. He'll also tell you what you may need." "Thank'e, Sir, we'll do that." They went over to John Little, telling him what they wanted. Little looked at Tony questioningly, and Tony pointed to the small tavern. Little nodded and took the boys to the tavern. Harriet had watched the incident wordlessly, but now she looked at her husband with a gleam in her emerald eyes. "I begin to understand what makes you such a good captain. Those boys already adore you." Tony smiled in response. "They have no comparison, dear; they are simply impressed by a splendid uniform and a beautiful woman, and they dream of becoming a future Nelson." "You can tell me what you want, darling, but I know you are a wonderful captain," Harriet smiled at him. "That reminds me, that tenant's reception has put us behind in our lovemaking, don't you agree?" "You are wonderful yourself, Harriet. I can't believe that you will be with me on the Bridgetown station." They were walking towards their waiting coach, and Harriet spoke in a low voice. "Do you think we can make love while en route? Can we share a cabin at all?" "It all depends on whether you can keep your voice down, dear," Tony grinned. "Then you will just have to go easy with me, you big brute!" Harriet laughed in response. "And to keep your mouth off my quim," she added in a whisper. "Well, with Fallon and his young wife on board as well, nobody will know who is shrieking," Tony added, bringing Harriet to a gay laughter. They boarded the coach and started back towards the manor. "Do you think, Lucy and Dr. Wilkes may come with us?" Harriet asked, suddenly serious again. "Don't get your hopes up too far, darling. Dr. Wilkes has a very big practice in London, I cannot see him give that up to see a few flying fish." "I still hope they will come. Lucy is like the sister I never had, and I would miss her." Tony did not answer to that. He hoped for Harriet that her hopes would not be disappointed. ••• The week in High Matcham ended too fast. Both Tony and Harriet felt that the house and the surrounding land had grown on them, but they had to go back to Portsmouth. They started out early on that Thursday morning, and Nadine Blacket accompanied them in the coach. Of course, with their faithful housekeeper on board, there was no danger of starving. They stopped in the village to drop John Little at the tavern. He would collect the volunteers and follow in a second, smaller coach that Tony had rented for the purpose, together with parts of their luggage. He was surprised to see not three, but seven volunteers waiting for Little. Word had spread, and four more boys had decided to try their luck in the Navy. That would make for cramped seating, but that also would prepare them for the living conditions on board his Majesty's ships, Tony thought grimly. They reached Portsmouth before evening. The house was cold and dark, and Tony thought he would need to have staff for both his houses when he returned to England. "Let us get a fire going and then have dinner at Carpenter's," Tony suggested. "Zat is a good idea, Sir Anthony," Nadine agreed. "By ze time you get back, I vill 'ave ze fire going and ze kitchen hearz, too." "No, I mean all of us," Tony laughed. "But I could not..." Nadine began. "Disobey my orders?" Tony continued. "No I suppose you couldn't. Let us go then." Harriet pressed her husband's arm to show her agreement. Quickly, a fire was started in the great kitchen hearth, and coals were added. A fire in the great fireplace in the living room would make no sense, and so they left the house, a reluctant Nadine Blacket in tow. Carpenter's was crowded, but the maitre saw Tony's rich uniform and the immaculate appearance of Harriet. He overlooked Nadine's plain but well-cut dress and seated them on a table fairly to the front. Somebody waived at them from a table further in the back, and Tony squinted his eyes. "That's Elisabeth," Harriet smiled and rushed over to greet the woman. After ordering wine and an entree, Tony joined them. Elisabeth was sitting with a woman Tony knew from somewhere. Yes, it was Mrs. Archer, Gwendolyn Archer, the widowed daughter of Sir Robert Norton, the merchant, and a business woman in her own right as Tony remembered. "Mrs. Archer, Miss Wilson, I am enchanted to see you again," he said, bowing politely. "Sir Anthony, the joy is mine and mine only. And this must be Lady Carter? I am Gwendolyn Archer. I am happy to meet you. Your husband braved the attempts of my mother to snare him for me, and now that I meet you, I can see what made him so resistant to my charms," she added, laughing happily. Harriet had heard the story from Tony, and she could easily recognise the self-assured woman from Tony's tale. "I am happy to meet you, too, but please call me Harriet. What brings you to Portsmouth, if I may be so curious." "This young woman. A friend of mine was here in town, and all of a sudden she needed an evening gown. She was referred to Miss Wilson and was fitted for a gown that she could not stop talking about. So, here I am. My business is cloth, that is what I inherited from my husband. But I love beautiful dresses and gowns. I wanted to talk Miss Wilson into a partnership." "And I accepted," Elisabeth answered in a small voice as if she still could not believe it. "Just think, I will open a store in London! In Bond Street! Me, Elisabeth Wilson, seamstress." "Oh come on, Elisabeth, I always told you you are far more than a seamstress. You should have heard the people when they saw my wedding gown! I spread your name in London already. You will find customers in no time, dear," Harriet encouraged her erstwhile rival. "I see that the sommelier is there with our wine," Tony interrupted. "Would you care to join us at our table?" They did, and it turned out to be a delightful evening. Even Nadine Blacket thawed once the food arrived, and she commented favourably on its quality, to the quiet amusement of the others. Later that evening, they were joined by Sir Edward Rotheram, newly created Baronet of the United Kingdom. He was accompanied by his wife and they just happened into Carpenter's. It was almost midnight when the company parted, and everybody agreed it had been a wonderful evening. Harriet promised to visit Elisabeth's shop the next day to place an order for her travel clothes, joking that she had to hurry before Elisabeth's prices went up too far. Tony was up early in the next morning since he had to inspect his ship. Over the next days, he immersed himself into the various tasks involved in the fitting out of a ship of the line. As promised, Sir Richard Lambert had collected information on the officers available and had recommended several for his son in law's attention. He would have to interview them in the next days. The ship now had its full complement of warrant officers: boatswain, sail-maker, cook, gunner, cooper, and carpenter. Two wardroom members had also been appointed, the purser, Mr. Donahue, a red-haired giant of a man, and the sailing master, Mr. Jones, easily the oldest man on board. Mr. Galbreith was still in charge of the efforts, but it had been made clear to Tony that the position of First Lieutenant had to be filled with a senior lieutenant. That requirement was easily fulfilled by Mr. Perceval Dougherty, who interviewed with Tony a day after being notified. He lived in Portsmouth, and had been on half pay since his former ship had paid off to be broken up. He was in his mid-thirties and had held officer's rank for nearly sixteen years. There was not a single negative remark about him in the papers that he presented, but he had been in the wrong ships at the wrong times, never seeing decisive action, never with a chance to prove himself. There was a trace of resentment in his eyes at being interviewed by a captain eight years his junior in age, but immeasurably senior to him in the service. That could be a difficult relationship, Tony mused, but the man deserved a chance. "Mr. Dougherty, first let me tell you that I will appreciate an officer with your vast experience serving under me." Mr. Dougherty nodded, already expecting the 'but', and it came. "But I need to make one thing clear right from the start. A ship under my command is run my way. As my second in command, I expect unconditional loyalty from you. You will have to enforce the discipline on board, but the right to dole out punishment rests with me alone. I believe in a fair treatment of the crew, including appropriate provisions and clothing. My crews have always been loyal to me because I was loyal to them, and my record speaks for itself. Do you see any problems with that? Please answer honestly." Dougherty only needed a second to shake his head. "As long as discipline is maintained, Sir, I fully approve of your methods. You can rely on my loyalty, Sir." "It is well then. When do you wish to start?" "Right away, Sir? There is no such thing as too early in the service." "I will write a notice to this effect to the Harbour Admiral, then. We will have passengers when we will sail for Barbados. Sir Pierce Fallon will be accompanied by his wife, and my wife will come as well. We shall need sleeping accommodations for at least two maidservants on this deck, to be covered by the marine sentries. There may also be one additional female passenger. Since this is a roomy ship, this should not be much of a problem." Dougherty nodded. "We shall have to make sure the crew dresses properly, then. Are the ladies knowledgeable about the life at sea, Sir?" "My wife is," Tony answered smiling, "her father is Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. Lady Fallon is a novice, I fear, but my wife will help her along. As for the additional passenger, she sailed all the way to the Great South Sea and back, and to my knowledge she never became seasick." "I'll also have a word with the warrant officers and their mates to curb their language, Sir." "Not a bad idea anyway, Mr. Dougherty. You may take your leave now and get your dunnage on board. I will inform Mr. Galbreith that you will take over from him." "He seems to have done quite well, Sir. There was no slack in those work parties I saw. Is he a senior lieutenant?" "Five years, I believe. He should rank Nº 3 or even Nº2. We will also have Lt. Dugan. He was master's mate in the Clyde under me. Captain Fortescue had no opening for a lieutenant when he passed his exam, and he asked me if I wanted him. You will have one wardroom member who knows my ways already." After Mr. Dougherty had gone, his secretary brought in the mail, already sorted. "This looked like a personal letter, Sir, I haven't opened it, Sir." He pointed to an unopened envelope. Tony's eyebrow shot up when he recognised the sender. He cut the envelope open and began to read. "My dear Sir Anthony, after conferring with my future wife and my colleagues of the Royal College of Surgeons, I take pleasure in informing you that I wish to accept the position of ship's surgeon on board HMS Asia that you offered to me. I shall arrive in Portsmouth by the end of February to take up my duties. Your father in law has already offered to expedite my application within the Admiralty and has assured me that there will be no hindrance. With time pressing as it is, Miss Gutteridge and I have set the date for our wedding for the 25th of February, your mother in law having assured us that you will be in London at this date. I speak not only for myself, but also for my future wife when I invite you and Lady Carter to our wedding celebrations. I would thank you again for providing me with this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I remain Your Obedient Servant Jonathan Wilkes, RCS" Tony smiled. This was happy news for Harriet. It was happy news for the Asia and her crew as well, to have a competent surgeon. Another thought came to him. John Sykes, former surgeon of the Clyde was still awaiting his execution. He had appealed to the King for mercy, and Tony hoped the matter would not be decided before he left for Barbados. Although he approved of the verdict, he was not keen on witnessing an execution. Later that day, a carpenter from the shore came to view the great cabin. The bulwarks dividing Sir Pierce's and his cabin had already been set up, but Sir Pierce had suggested two matching, foldable dining tables for either cabin. That way, the cabins could be joined and one large table could be set up if the need for on board entertainment arose. For this reason, they had also agreed on identical lamps, chests of drawers, desks and chairs. It was a sound idea, Tony thought. The carpenter now took his measurements and they specified the order. Harriet and Lady Fallon would get together to pick things like cushions and curtains, it had been agreed. The ship's carpenter had been ordered to built solid shutters for the windows in the sleeping cabins. Tony knew that some sailors would risk everything to get a glimpse of a woman, and the shutters would forestall any such attempt. When Tony went ashore in the evening, he felt tired but satisfied. He would have an excellent ship and live in comparable comfort in the next years. There was a nagging worry in the back of his head regarding the crew. He had four hundred crew now, not counting the marine complement, and he was over a hundred men short. As soon as he had his wardroom complete, he would send out the officers on recruiting missions into the country side. Another option would be to send boats to smaller fishing villages for night time raids. That would not yield sailors, though, and would only be a last resort. He had already arranged to wine and dine the governor of Bodmin Prison next week, to get as many convicts as possible. Most of these people were no real criminals, petty theft and debt were the main reasons for imprisonment. With good care, they could be useful members of the crew. Dinner was waiting for him when he arrived, and so was Harriet. The wide smile on her face told him that she had received a letter from Lucy. This was confirmed after he had claimed a kiss from his wife. "This is going to be so wonderful! I will have my husband and my dearest friend with me." "And I will have a competent surgeon on board. It is an excellent arrangement. I have already given orders to have a separate cabin set up for Lucy." "You are a darling," Harriet squealed, kissing him again. "I was at Elisabeth's, and we talked about my needs on the journey. The woman is wonderful. I complained that skirts can be a problem on board, seeing that the wind can catch in them and blow them up. She will make a special skirt for me with whale bone stays to keep them from flapping. And another one of suede leather, too heavy to be blown up." "And I had so hoped for the wind to reveal your charms," Tony grinned. "Don't worry, you'll see enough of my legs. I will wrap them around you each night so you won't miss them during the day." "That sounds like a very good idea. I may take you up on that tonight." "You do that, darling," Harriet laughed. She enjoyed the open talk with her husband, there were no secrets between them, no false shame. "If we keep doing all those wonderful things, there is a good chance that you will be with child soon. You should ask your mother what you may need in this case. Not everything may be available in Bridgetown." "You are sweet, thinking about that. As a matter of fact, there is a sea chest in our house in London with all the items I may need. But I will pass on that kind of warning to Lady Fallon when I'll meet her. She will come to Portsmouth next week with her husband. I suppose he wants to inspect his flagship. She and I can then decide on the furnishings for the cabins." After dinner, Tony wrote a letter to his attorney, Mr. Hogsbotham, to investigate the availability of the Woodbridge manor property and to proceed with the purchase if the price was reasonable. Mr. Hogsbotham was a shrewd man, and Tony trusted his judgement. They went to bed early that evening, and Harriet made good on her promise to wrap her legs around her husband. So good, that Nadine Blacket chuckled in her own bed, listening to the cries and moans, and delighted that she worked for such a happy couple. She got along famously with her new mistress, and she almost regretted that she could not come along for the trip to Barbados. ••• Two days later, Sir Pierce and his wife came to Portsmouth. Together with Tony, the admiral inspected the Asia and he was pleased with his new flagship. Two more lieutenants had been appointed, both junior to Mr. Galbreith, with two and four years seniority, respectively. The sixth vacancy would be filled with whoever passed the exam next, Tony was informed by the Harbour Admiral. The dinner with the governor of the Bodmin prison had also gone well, Tony informed his admiral, and they would receive fifty convicts within the next week. Another eighty hands were needed, and Tony had sent out the new lieutenants to scour the countryside for volunteers. Sir Pierce saw nothing to complain about. In the meantime, Harriet had taken care of Lady Fallon, assembling a list of what she would need on a sea journey, things like soft tallow for the skin and the lips and special ship's biscuit in air-tight tin boxes, safe from maggots. The younger woman was thankful for the advice and expressed her appreciation of having female company. She was clearly scared of the adventures looming ahead but took heart in the fact that Harriet felt no apprehensions whatsoever. When Harriet mentioned the possibility of a pregnancy, Amanda Fallon smiled shyly, and admitted that she was past possibility in this regard, adding to her apprehensions. This was a sore point for Harriet, with her worries about her prior miscarriage, but she covered her feelings and assuaged the younger woman's fears, telling her that a prominent London practitioner would serve as ship's surgeon. All in all, they parted with the prospect of a budding friendship. The Fallons accepted a dinner invitation, and they spent a nice evening at the Carters' house. It helped that Sir Pierce was an old acquaintance of the Lamberts, and it helped that Lady Fallon was a grateful recipient of Harriet's friendly advances. At eleven o'clock, the guests retired to their lodgings, and Tony and Harriet went to sleep. "She is terribly shy," Harriet mused as she peeled herself out of her evening dress. "I imagine life was hard for her. She went to all those expensive schools and the other girls were probably cruel to her." "Isn't her father a rich merchant?" Tony asked, not fully aware of Lady Fallon's background. "He only became rich during the last years, since the war started. She told me, she was born in a wooden shack behind her father's storage. They have the largest mansion in Manchester now, but people don't forget her humble origin." "Well, my background is humble, too." "But you grew up in an environment where your abilities and achievements counted. In a girls school, there are no achievements, and abilities are mostly ignored. It is really only about who your parents and grandparents are. I should know, I think I was just as shallow." "But you overcame that, Harriet, and that's quite an achievement." "Well, a certain young mate put his hands between my legs and blew away my prejudices." "You would not think that there may be some prejudices left?" Tony asked, cocking his eyebrow. Harriet laughed brightly and leaned back against Tony who hugged her. "You always make me laugh, Tony. Please don't ever stop that, it's one of the reasons I love you so much." "And what are the other reasons?" Harriet blushed. "Your talented fingers, and your magic lips, and..." "And?" "Your wonderful cock!" she whispered, blushing slightly. "I was hoping that we were coming to that!" "Make love to me, husband of mine, but slowly. I want to float." "I'll make you float," Tony promised. He began to kiss her slender throat and neck, eliciting appreciative sounds from his wife. His hands cupped her breasts, feeling the stiff nipples through the fabric of the night shirt. Leaving one hand on her breasts, he let his right hand travel down over her tummy and into the valley between her legs. Willingly, Harriet opened her legs, giving his hand access to her sensitive flesh. He used the palm of his hand to cup her mound, and he felt her moisture through the fabric. "Think of the cloud covered moon over our heads, and the waves lapping against the bows of our little boat," he whispered. "Your mother is sitting on your left, sleeping and holding your brother is her arms, not noticing me as I let my hands explore you." Harriet moaned and melted further into his embrace. "I rub your soft flesh, and I feel your moisture. You are lost in your lust, and you let me rub you harder and harder. Then I let my finger part your lips. Your skirt gets really wet now with your juices. Finally, my finger finds your pleasure spot and rubs it gently. Your breathing gets harder and harder, that little button grows bigger and bigger while you squirm in my hand, until you cannot take it anymore and you come!" Indeed, Harriet's breathing became laboured as she travelled back in time and felt her lover's intimate touches. "Your mother wakes up and looks at us, but you don't notice." Harriet squealed at this, feeling naughty. "She looks at us and smiles, giving me a wink, as your passion rises higher." Tony pulled up the hem of the nightshift now, and he let his fingers dance on her exposed flesh. First one, then two fingers dove into her swollen entrance, rubbing over her sensitive flesh. "Your legs are wide open, for everyone to see. You thrust your hips against my fingers, faster and faster. I kiss you to quell your sighs of lust," he pressed his lips on hers, "and then I start squeezing your little love button." "Aaargh," Harriet's body arched, she thrust her pelvis against the probing fingers. "Aaaah!" She relaxed in his arms, a beatific smile on her beautiful face, as Tony's left hand caressed her hair. "Oh dear me!" Harriet breathed. "Where did that come from?" "From our fondest memories," Tony answered. "That's how we fell in love." Harriet turned around and began to attack Tony's mouth with her kisses. "You ... wonderful ... crazy ... funny ... loving ... treasure ... of a man," she gushed between her kisses. "I love you so much it hurts." "I should not have rubbed you through the wet fabric then," Tony grinned. "Oh you! Lay back, you rascal, and let me have my revenge!" Obediently, Tony lay back, looking forward to her revenge. Harriet had bunched his shirt up and buried her face in his crotch. Once again, the incredible sight of her reddish mane covering his lap, bobbing up and down in steady rhythm, and the exquisite sensation of her mouth around his member reduced him to a helpless and passive state. He was hard in seconds, and he knew that he would never last long. He wanted to enjoy the sensations, but he also knew that there was no defence against the magic of her mouth. Not quite three minutes later he erupted into her mouth, and her sucking mouth made him squirm with lust until he had no strength left in him. Traces of his seed were visible in the corners of her mouth when she looked up with a self-satisfied grin. "That will happen to you every time you make fun of my feelings!" she threatened. "I will keep that in mind," Tony answered weakly. Then he mustered his wit again. "You promise?" he asked. With a growl, she took his cock into her mouth again and sucked violently on the sensitive tip. Tony squirmed with the overcharge she created until he could not take it anymore. His limbs trembling uncontrolled, he cried, "I give up! Quarter, please!" Releasing his cock, she smiled wickedly. "That should teach you." She then scooted up and lay on top of him. "You're not mad at me, are you?" "No, you funny woman. How could I be mad at you? But please, never do this on my quarterdeck. My crew mustn't know that their captain is at the mercy of a frail woman." Harriet giggled. "That would be a sight, now wouldn't it?" She snuggled with her back into him again and fell asleep in his embrace, with his right hand on her breast. Tony awoke before dawn. He had had an erection all night long, feeling Harriet's slender body pressed against his front, but now something was different. Coming to his senses, he felt that his member was nestled against Harriet's back. Her shirt had ridden up during the night, and his shirt had never been tucked down in the first place. His cock had oozed lubrication on Harriet's exposed back, making it slippery. The root of his member was wedged between her firm buttocks, and the tip poked into the small of her back. Without waking her, he moved downward two or three inches, until the length of his stiff cock was aligned in the crack between her buttocks. With a satisfied "Mmmh!", she pressed back against him. Encouraged, Tony moved his pelvis, sliding his cock back and forth between her butt cheeks. Again, Harriet uttered an appreciative groan. He increased the amplitude of his strokes gradually, rubbing the length of his member against her sensitive flesh, until, suddenly, moving upwards, he felt the tip of his cock rub over his wife's rear opening. A sharp intake of breath was followed by a squealing sound, and he repeated the movement, but slower. He moved downward until the tip was lodged against the area just behind her opening. Then, slowly, he let his penis move up. Feeling the puckered opening at his sensitive glans, he changed the angle slightly, pressing inward. With all the lubrication, the tip went in by a fraction of an inch. Harriet moaned and pressed against him. Moving his hips in short measured thrusts of perhaps half an inch, he pressed the tip into her puckered opening several times. The heat he felt on his penis was tremendous, and he was rock hard. With the next thrust, he penetrated her by almost an inch before he withdrew. Again, he pressed in several times with the increased amplitude until he felt the tight ring muscle relax more and more. There must be plenty of lubrication from his own juices, because he could move with ease inside her tight opening. He pressed deeper with the next stroke. "Aaaaah!" Harriet moaned deeply. "aaahhhh!" He felt that the tip was beyond the ring of her opening now. It felt as if he had his cock in a furnace. Slowly, he began his thrusting again, but he was restrained on the outward movement by the grip of her sphincter on the head of his cock. Out of necessity, if he wanted to move at all, he had to penetrate farther. And he did. Her tight opening glided over his shaft as he moved back and forth again, causing an almost unbearable sensation. "Oh ... god ... To- ... ny... -y! Wha ... at ... are ... you ... do ... ing?" Harriet panted between his strokes. "Am I hurting you? I can pull out," he whispered. "Do- ... on't ... you ... da- ... are," was her answer. She pushed back against his invading cock, burying another two inches. "Aaaaargh!" With great effort, Tony tried to maintain his control. He had half his root in his wife's rear opening now. He felt her heat, he felt her urgency as she pressed backwards. With a cry, he gave in and pressed the rest of his member into her, spurting his seed deep into her bowels. "Aaaaooooaaah!" he roared. Harriet felt the shock and the fullness of the full penetration, and then her sensitive nerve ends signalled the throbbing spurts of his release to her brain. The little pain mixed with the emotional overload, and she felt a shuddering release. Her muscle clenched the invading member and she trembled from head to toe. It took more than five minutes for their breathing to return to near normal, and the aftershocks of their lust made them both twitch from time to time. "Now you've had all of me," Harriet whispered. "Oh dear, it's good that you surprised me in my sleep. I would have never allowed you that had I been awake." "I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean to hurt you." "No, don't be sorry. I am just saying that I would have never dared to do this awake. But it was the most intense feeling I ever had. I don't want to make this a daily practice, mind you, but in this situation it was incredible. I still tingle all over my body." "Me too. Feeling your back against me excited me, and before I was fully awake, I was already pressing against your opening." "I better sleep with my front to you in the future," Harriet giggled. The giggle intensified, and she could not stop for almost a minute. "Oh my! You have completely corrupted me. I suck on your manhood and drink your seed, I encourage you to swive me in every way you can think of, and now I let you bugger me in my arse. I am a fallen woman, Tony, and I love every minute of it." "That's because you are my fallen woman. Because I pick you up afterwards and put you back up on the pedestal where you belong." "Tony?" "Yes dear?" "Could you pull that thing out of my arse? I need to pee badly, and somehow I feel there is even more to come." "Lay down on your front. I will pull out and fetch a wash cloth." With another shudder, Tony pulled his flaccid member from her tight grip. In the dim light, he found the wash cloths. Putting soap on both of them, he held one to his soiled member and used the second one to clean Harriet's backside. That finished, Harriet jumped up to use the night pot. "We have to hide those wash cloths," she giggled. "I can't imagine what Nadine may think of us if she saw them. What time is it?" "Eight bells," he answered mechanically, "sorry, 8 o'clock." "Time for a breakfast then?" They dressed and went down. Harriet flinched when she sat down on a chair. "I won't let you do that again so soon," she said with a wry smile. When she saw his crestfallen expression, she jumped up and kissed him lovingly. "I told you, it was incredible," she whispered. "It's just not something for everyday." ••• The next week went by in a flurry of activities for both of them. Harriet went on board the Asia with Tony to help him furnish the cabins. She had a sense for colours and she knew about furniture, and Tony gave her free rein. The recruiting had gone better than he had feared, yielding 68 new recruits, seventeen of them real volunteers, the rest had been tricked into accepting the hiring bonus or made drunk. The Asia was now manned sufficiently to put to sea. They would try to shanghai more men from merchant men that came their way. Tony gave orders to begin with the gun drill while they were still in the harbour. Once they were in the Channel, they could always encounter a French battleship, and it was better to start the drill as early as possible. By the end of the week, Tony was confident that he could leave the ship for a week. They had to attend two weddings in the next eight days, James Palmer and Moira McTaggart's first, and a week later, Jonathan Wilkes and Lucy's. They travelled to London in Harriet's coach. For the first time, Tony slept in the town house that had been Rupert Palmer's. The atmosphere was unpleasant. Tony and Harriet had decided to rent out the place during their absence, and Harriet had given the staff notice for mid-March. Some of them, including the butler, had already found new employment and had left. To ease things for the remaining servants, Tony gave each of them a three month's salary, and that brightened the atmosphere considerably. Only Harriet's faithful maid servant, Nell Simmons, would continue in her employ and was ready to accompany her to Barbados. Harriet's mother had found an agent who would take inventory of the house, have the personal belongings moved into storage, and then find tenants. They learned soon that he had already found a candidate eager to move in. It was a gentleman who had been transferred recently to a senior position with the American embassy, a temporary assignment that did not warrant the purchase of a house. The transition would take place as soon as the Carters left for Portsmouth after the weddings. The wedding of Moira McTaggart with James Palmer was a splendid affair and even bigger than Harriet's and Tony's. Lord Brougham had a huge number of friends, and his son was popular with his fellow officers. St. Paul's Cathedral was fairly filled with the guests and onlookers and Moira had never looked more beautiful. Her off-white silk dress contrasted splendidly with her long raven hair, that fell in waves over her back. Her groom watched her all the time as if he had difficulties believing his luck. Moira, in turn, was beaming at everyone, smiling her way into the hearts of the onlookers. Harriet and Tony had a place to the front, Harriet being related by marriage. There was a mother and daughter couple sitting behind them, the mother grumbling all the time how a young gentleman of James Palmer's prospects could marry the penniless daughter of a nobody. Harriet had a hard time restraining herself. But when Moira's veil was lifted, the two women gasped. "Oh dear, who cares about money, mother," the daughter whispered, almost in awe. "Yes, she is beautiful," the mother assented in a hushed voice. "Look, how he adores her," the younger woman squealed. "A lucky bastard, that's what he is," a man grumbled to their right. Harriet's triumphant grin lighted up the pews. The wedding reception at the Brougham's town house was a stiff affair. The few junior officers felt awed by the presence of no fewer that seven full admirals, four commissioners, and the First Sea Lord to boot. Only when the dignitaries retired, did the mood lighten up. By that time however, most of the men were decidedly drunk. James Palmer therefore wisely decided that is was time for him to bring his new wife home. Moira threw her bridal bouquet, and there was raucous laughter when it was Lucy who caught it. "It's true," she laughed, "I will marry next weekend." Tony and Harriet saw the coach with their friends leave and then returned to their house. Harriet insisted on a repetition of their bridal night, claiming that she wanted such treatment in every new house they would move into, and Tony happily complied. ••• They also met with Anita twice over the next days, who had not been able to attend the wedding of Moira. But she promised to be at Lucy's wedding. "I will attend in the company of a real Baron," Anita giggled. "He just turned eighteen, he attends Trinity college at Cambridge. He is absolutely smitten by me, he writes poems for me all the time." The next days, Harriet was busy helping Lucy prepare for the big day. Lucy's young brother would give her away, and her little sister would be her bridesmaid. The wedding was on a much smaller scale than Moira's and even Harriet's. But many of the groom's colleagues showed, and it became clear that Jonathan Wilkes was an admired man in his own circles. The wedding ceremony was held in the chapel of the hospital were the groom did his pro bono publico work, and the parson was a friendly distracted man who stumbled over the words from time to time, causing giggles in the pews. After the wedding, Harriet was one of the first to give her felicitations. She hugged Lucy fiercely. "I wish you all the luck there is," she croaked, barely mastering her emotions. Then she turned to the groom and hugged him, too. "You take good care of this girl, will you?" Tony received an impulsive hug from Lucy when he stepped up, and he hugged her back with feeling. He had always felt a deep sympathy for the indomitable, blonde girl. "I hope you will be as lucky as you deserve, Lucy," he smiled. Shaking Jonathan Wilkes' hands, he grinned. "Those two weeks in Portsmouth really paid off, didn't they?" Looking at his new wife, Jonathan Wilkes could only agree. True to her word, Anita attended the wedding, accompanied by a good looking youth with black curls. When they met before the church after the wedding ceremony, Anita introduced him. "Harriet, Anthony, this is my friend Lord Byron. He is an aspiring poet. George, this is my dear friend Harriet Carter and her husband, Sir Anthony Carter." "I have read of your deeds, Sir Anthony," the young man exclaimed excitedly. "It is a great pleasure for me to meet in person one of our naval heroes. Your heroism should be praised in poems, Sir." "That is far too kind of you, milord," Tony smiled. "Anita tells us that you study history and literature?" "Yes, indeed. but my most fervent wish is to enlighten people with the words that flow from my quill. I shall publish my first book of verses shortly. May I present a copy to Lady Carter?" (That book was never published but rather suppressed for its perceived amoral content. Byron would not become famous before 1812.) "That is so kind of you, milord," Harriet beamed, "if it reaches my mother, Lady Lambert, of Cavendish Square, she will forward it to me. I will accompany my husband on his next station on the island of Barbados." "How daring of you, Lady Carter. I wish to travel, too, later. I want to see Greece and Italy." "We will have to expel Boney first, milord, before you can visit Italy," Tony interjected. "How true," the young man answered unabashed, "but the Usurper is hardly a match for our heroes. Have you ever met the lamented Lord Nelson, Sir Anthony?" "I had the honour of serving under him at Trafalgar," Tony replied benevolently. "Oh, then you are one of the Happy Few," the young man enthused, eerily echoing Tony's own sentiment. "I count myself honoured by that fact, yes," Tony smiled. "How extraordinary a young man," Harriet observed after Anita had dragged her companion away. "It will be interesting to read his poetry." The reception was interesting for Tony. Most of the relatives and friends came from civilian professions, doctors, teachers, and some merchants. Tony was the only military man, and he found himself the centre of interest for a while. The physicians and surgeons, in particular, wanted to verify what Jonathan Wilkes had told them about the appalling conditions under which surgery and other treatments were conducted in the service. The fact that the newlyweds were to travel to Barbados in a real man-o'-war, and that Harriet would accompany her husband, also drew attention. Harriet had to explain a lot to the women, who thought her to be either incredibly brave or stupid. When the questions got too prying, she raised her voice slightly. "Ladies, it is really simple: we have only been married for four weeks, and I simply won't let him leave me for three years. If your husbands had to live in Dublin for three years, wouldn't you accompany them? Well I assure you that it is safer to sail to Barbados in one of His Majesty's line of battle ships than to travel to Dublin by coach. Besides, Bridgetown is a fine English town. I am really looking forward to the stay." "But they have slaves on Barbados, and in all the West Indian colonies. How can you stand that?" That came from a white-haired man who had already grilled Tony about John Little, who had accompanied his captain on the coach and was waiting in the servant's room. Harriet looked at the man and recognised him as William Wilberforce, the leading man behind last year's failed attempt to outlaw the slave trade. "So you think that only supporters of slavery should visit our colonies?" Harriet asked back. "I would think that our subjects overseas must be exposed to the views of the homeland if we ever want to overcome this barbaric practice." Tony looked at his wife, surprised that she held such strong opinion. But it made sense, he thought. He could not remember seeing slaves in the Kingston household of Sir Richard Lambert, and Sir Richard had encouraged captains to press captured slaves into the service, rather than returning them to their owners. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Wilberforce. "And you, my gallant Captain, what is your opinion on this?" "I grew up on Jamaica, Mr. Wilberforce. There were slaves and indentured servants from England. Often, the slaves were treated better, because they represented a value to their owners. I think both practices should be outlawed, but in the line of my duty I have to follow the laws and regulations as laid down by Parliament and the Admiralty." "So you are looking the other way, Captain, in the face of this atrocious slave trade?" The belligerent question came from a tall, black-haired woman. "Madam, just how many slaves can you claim to have freed personally?" Tony asked reasonably. "Seven, all that I inherited," came the proud answer. "In this case, I am over one hundred ahead of you," Tony smiled. "My frigate caught a French slaver in '04, and I landed 130 captives on St. Domingue, or Haiti as it is called now. They are free among the freed slaves there." "Is this how you acquired your servant?" another woman asked. "Mr. Little volunteered for the service back in '96 when Medusa was off the African coast. He never was a slave. He is my personal coxswain. If you know about the Navy, that is the most coveted position for a Navy rating, and he earned it. I confide in him and trust him with my life." "He will have a hard time on Barbados, Captain," Wilberforce mused. "A negro in command of your boat crew, that will be unacceptable for the plantation owners." "They better get used to it, Mr. Wilberforce," Tony countered coolly. "I'll have no sugar baron meddle in the running of my ship." Fortunately, it was announced now that the Bride and Groom were leaving, and the guests assembled to see them off. The Wilkes would spend a week on the country seat of Lucy's parents-in-law, before they would come to Portsmouth. It was already arranged that they would be guests at Tony's house, there. When the coach with the newlyweds rattled away over the cobblestones, Harriet and Tony made a hurried exit, to avoid a rekindling of the previous discussion. In the coach, Harriet started on the subject again. "I don't think that Little will have problems in Barbados, but perhaps we should ask him how he feels about leaving Inés behind. Don't you think that he should have some happiness too?" "Do you think that they are that serious about their relationship?" "Elisabeth told me that Inés has had puffy eyes for a week now." "But what can we do? If I leave him in Portsmouth, the press gang will pick him up." "Yes, that is a concern. But he could become father's coxswain while we are abroad." Harriet's father would be the next Harbour Admiral for the Pool of London. Tony grinned. That was much like Harriet to think about such things and to look for solutions quietly. "I take it, your father knows about this?" Harriet nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry, but I just felt for him and Inés. If Elisabeth moves her shop to London, they can be together. My father will not travel by boat that much, and not at night," she added with a grin. Tony kissed his wife. "You just want to see everyone happy, don't you?" "That's not bad, is it?" she protested. "No, I suppose it's very good. Only that you deprive me of my most trusted subordinate. But you are right, of course. He should have happiness, too. Does he know?" "God, no, Tony! I had to talk to you first. Oh, here we are. Will you bring it up?" "I had better," Tony sighed, alighting from the coach. Helping Harriet to step out, he looked at his coxswain. "I need to speak with you in private, Little. Meet me in the study in half an hour." "Aye, Captain," Little replied automatically, but the question was there on his face. "Nothing bad, Little, just something we have to talk about." Once inside, they changed from their formal clothing into a more comfortable attire. Harriet went into her private study, while Tony went to the smoking room which he had claimed as his study. Shortly after. John Little knocked and entered. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" "Yes, have a seat, Little." "Thank you, Sir." "Let's not beat about the bush, Little. What are your feelings for Inés Ruiz?" Tony could have sworn that Little turned red under his ebony skin. For once, words failed him. "Do you care for her?" "Yes, Sir," Little nodded. "Does she care for you?" "She says so, Sir, yes, I think she does." "Now, where does that leave her when you go to sea with me?" "She's mighty upset, Sir, and weepy-eyed." "And you, would you rather stay with her?" "I couldn't desert you, Sir. And, besides, the press gang would snatch me." "Now, if I just loaned your services to my father in law for the duration of three years, he would take you as his personal boatswain as Harbour Admiral. You would be in London, and Inés will be in London, too. Would you find such an arrangement agreeable?" Little's face showed conflicting emotions. "But what about you, Sir?" "I will take you back into my service when I return from Barbados. Come on! Inés is a beautiful young woman, and it's time for you to start a family." "You are not trying to get rid of me, Sir, to avoid trouble with the planters?" Tony raised an eyebrow. Little had an acute sense of hearing, he thought. "No, as I said, nobody meddles with the running of my ship. But this is about some happiness for you, my friend. We both think that you earned it." "Then, Sir, I will serve your father in law until you return." "We will arrange for that. I suppose you better start in that new capacity right away. No need for you to go back to Portsmouth with us. Mrs. Blacket will send your belongings to the Lamberts' household. When we reach Portsmouth, my wife will tell Inés. She will spend a lot of time at Miss Wilson's anyway." "Sir, could Lady Carter give Inés a letter from me, too?" "Oh, how is your writing?" "I practised a lot under Mrs. Blacket, Sir. I can write letters now, and read books and newspapers." "Excellent," Tony said and he meant it. "Of course, have that letter ready tomorrow evening and we shall take it along." "Thank you, Sir!" "Never mind, this was Lady Carter's idea, and she arranged everything." "Then I will thank her, Sir." "You do that. Have a good night, Little." "Good night, Sir Anthony." Tony felt slightly downcast after that interview. For three years, John Little had covered his back and had been his trusted confidant. But he did deserve some personal happiness, and he would find it with pretty Inés Ruiz. He found that Harriet had already gone to their bedroom and followed her. She was still awake, though. "What did you decide, darling?" she asked eagerly. "Tell your father he has a new coxswain," Tony smiled. "And tell Elisabeth to move to London quickly, so the two love birds can marry each other." Harriet looked like the cat that ate the canary, and Tony had to laugh. "Now you are very proud of yourself, aren't you?" "As a matter of fact, yes, I am," Harriet smiled. "You seem to be different during the last days, darling. Very emotional and easily excited. Is it anything I should know?" Harriet looked down for a second, contemplating. Then she smiled at her husband. "I should have started my moon time three days ago, Tony, but I haven't. I feel different, not irritable as I usually do at that time of the month. As you said, emotional and excitable. We will have to wait for another month to be sure, but I think I may be with child. Our child." "Harriet, that would be wonderful. But don't you think it may simply be some delay?" "No, I don't think so. I am like a clockwork, usually. I only missed my moon time once before, you know when. I just hope I can keep it." "But you will, darling!" Tony rushed to her side and hugged her. "I will simply pamper you to no end. And don't forget, this time you are looking forward to your future." Harriet looked at him with eyes full of tenderness. "Yes, you are right, this time my future looks bright." ••• It was three weeks later, and Lady Carter woke up to the sound of the ship's bell. Mechanically, she counted. Four bells - six o'clock. The place where Tony had slept was still warm, but empty. In fact, now she heard his voice from the deck above. Quickly, she rose from the bed and opened the shutters. It was still dark outside. In the dim light of the lantern, Harriet dressed and combed her hair. Then she washed her face, the last wash with fresh water. She had come aboard the evening before. Tony wanted to sail with the first light, and so she had slept in the ship already. She had felt the buzzing excitement of a ship readying for sea the evening before. She left the sleeping cabin and entered the great cabin, or rather, Tony's half of it. She heard the low murmurs of Sir Pierce and his wife from across the bulwark that separated their quarters. When she left the cabin, the marine sentry stood at attention, and through the dimly lit deck she found her way to the quarter deck. Around her, the men worked in the organised chaos that was typical for an inexperienced crew, the mates shouting and cursing with hoarse voices. When she appeared on deck, at least the cursing ebbed. She quickly found her way to the foot of the mizzen mast, ahead of the steering wheel. She saw Tony in discussion with the First Lieutenant and the Sailing Master. He spared her a smile though and she blew him a kiss. The first light of dawn could be seen over the city. She heard her husband's words then. "All right, gentlemen, let us go!" A shrill whistle followed, and the command "Man the capstan!" was bellowed. A hundred men tried to find their footing and began to turn the capstan, pulling in the anchor cable. Another two hundred men streamed up the shrouds and into the tops. "Anchor is free!" came the shout from the bows, and the men around the capstan moved faster, now that the weight of the huge ship was not involved anymore. "Set tops'ls!" Mr. Dougherty shouted. "Course south, south and east," Mr. Jones, the sailing master ordered the quarter masters. "South, south and east, aye aye, Sir!" the senior quarter master repeated. Within less then three minutes, the big ship had become alive. The topsails caught the wind, and HSM Asia turned onto her new course. Tony found time now to come over. "Good morning, darling. Ready for our big adventure?" "As ready as I'll ever be," Harriet smiled back. "You better be prepared. We'll fire our salute soon. I don't want to make you jump." She smiled at him, grateful for the warning. There came Sir Pierce and his wife. Amanda came over to stand with Harriet, while the admiral walked over to the weather side to confer with Tony. "Mr. Dougherty, kindly sound our salute!" Tony voice was heard. "Aye aye, Sir! Mr. Donovan, begin the salute." The crash of the first salute made Amanda Fallon jump. "What is that?" she asked frightened. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. That's just the salute gun, dear. Are you all right?" Amanda Fallon blushed. "Yes, no, oh, I made a fool of myself again." "No you didn't. It was my fault. My husband had warned me, otherwise I would have jumped, too. But I forgot to tell you. I'm sorry." The second shot sounded and was answered by the fort. One after the other, the shots rolled over the calm water as the Asia gained speed. Her topgallants had been set, too, and now the crew was working on loosening the giant mainsail and fore course. With the increased speed, the ship began to work in the short waves, while the morning breeze laid her over to leeward. Amanda Fallon held on to a rail, and she looked at Harriet with fear in her eyes. Harriet shot a look to her husband, and pointed at the young woman. Luckily, Tony understood her hint. She saw him address the admiral, and shortly after, Sir Pierce walked over to his wife. Harriet smiled as she heard him explain things to her in a patient way, as if talking to a child. Harriet nodded and smiled to her husband. Tony had been watching the behaviour of his new ship under sail, trying to get a feel of her. When he saw his admiral on the quarterdeck, he greeted him and gave him a quick report. One thing led to another, and they soon were deep in a technical discussion. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harriet trying to get his attention. She kept looking at him and then to Lady Fallon who stood at a rail, her hands white knuckled. Tony got the message. "Sir Pierce," he said in a low voice, "it seems as if Lady Fallon is showing some discomfort." "Oh, where? Indeed. Let me go over to her, Captain. I think we covered the important issues." Sir Pierce rushed over to his young wife, comforting her. Tony looked at Harriet and again marvelled at his good luck. He had a wife with courage and tact, who loved him and yet did not surrender herself. Tony wondered whether she was already bearing a child. That would be the topping on their happiness, he thought. Again, she looked at him and smiled. Just then, the morning sun broke through the fog and bathed the deck in golden light. Harriet's hair shone like fire in the rays of the morning sun. He wanted to kiss his wife, but he felt self-conscious. But then he saw her laughing face, her shining green eyes. "What the hell," he murmured, and walked toward the mizzen mast. Harriet giggled in surprise when he swept her up in his arms and kissed her. "I am the happiest man alive," he whispered into her ears, before he set her down on the deck again. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Note to the readers: I want to thank all the people who have encouraged me to continue with this little yarn, those who have pointed out my stupid mistakes and those who simply gave me feedback. In other words, I would like to thank my readers. It's been a pleasure writing for you. September 25, 2005 Note added after revision: Books 1 has undergone revision, and I want to acknowledge the help of my editor, Duffiedawg, who will also help with Book 2. My readers Andrew and Ian have pointed out errors and misspellings, as have many other readers. Book 2 is in the offing, with the first chapters going into proof-reading soon. July 21, 2009. ------- Book 2 ------- Chapter 1: The Belle Isle Lady Carter watched her husband while he gave orders to the officers of HMS Asia. She felt pride when she saw the undivided attention he received from those men. Nine years ago, when she was a girl of sixteen, the quiet authority of then eighteen year-old Anthony Carter had impressed her and had made her rethink her prejudice against that young man. Nine years, and what a change they had brought. Anthony Carter was a senior captain now, and a Knight of the Bath to boot. Most importantly, though, he was her husband. Harriet's heart swelled when she thought about their first weeks in matrimony, about the deep love that flowed between them. Just a few moments ago, he had picked her up in his arms, in plain sight of the entire ship, throwing etiquette to the wind, just to show her that he loved her. Yes, Harriet Carter considered herself a lucky woman. The wind showed signs of strengthening, whipping her heavy skirt around her legs. She did not care. The skirts she wore were made for windy weather, in fact made out of heavy, oiled, suede leather, and not likely to be blown up in any wind short of gale strength. Lady Fallon, standing with her husband on the other side of the quarter deck, was not as well prepared, and the crew were treated to the sight of her stocking-clad calves. Harriet suppressed a smile. Amanda Fallon was a novice to shipboard life, not born to a Navy family like Harriet, nor an experienced traveller. She had married the Admiral, Sir Pierce Fallon, and had decided to join him on his new command. Blond curls appeared over the coaming of the nearest hatchway, instantly whipped around in the wind. Harriet was astonished that Lucy had not come up earlier. Her husband Dr. Wilkes, the ship's surgeon, was standing with the other wardroom members on the lee side of the quarter deck. The ship showed a lively movement in the short waves of the Channel, but one look at Lucy assured Harriet that her friend was comfortable. They were an unlikely set of friends. Lucy Wilkes, née Gutteridge, had once been on the way to New South Wales, the penal colony on the Australian continent, convicted for the theft of a loaf of bread. The ship she was transported in was attacked by pirates, but Lucy managed to escape in a small boat together with another young woman. She was picked up by HMS Medusa, under Captain Anthony Carter, and Andrew Lambert, Harriet's younger brother and second lieutenant in Medusa, had fallen for the lively and pretty blonde girl. After their return to England, he had asked his sister, then in her unhappy marriage with Rupert Palmer, to take the girl in. A deep and lasting friendship had developed between the two young women that prevailed even after Andrew Lambert broke his engagement to Lucy. Now, Lucy was freshly married to Dr. Jonathan Wilkes, a prominent London surgeon. The chance to see the West Indian waters and islands had prompted Dr. Wilkes to give up his large London practise and join the Asia as ship's surgeon, an arrangement that had allowed Lucy to accompany both her husband and her friend. "Good morning, Lucy. What kept you? We are already passing the Isle of Wight." Lucy grinned wryly. "Cramps," she grimaced. "You know how lucky you are?" Harriet of course, did not suffer from menstrual cramps as she was in the early stages of pregnancy. "Oh dear, can I help you?" "I already prepared a pain relief, and it's getting better," Lucy answered. She was the daughter of an apothecary and herbalist, and what she did not know about herbal medicine was not worth recording. "This ship sails like a dream compared with the Pretty Jane or even the Medusa. Jonathan says that the French build much better ships. I wonder why they lose the battles then." "Their captains are not equal to ours," Harriet joked, but there was pride in her voice, too. Her father was a full Admiral, her brother was a junior Captain, not to speak of her husband. Harriet was a Navy wife, through and through. "Your modesty is most becoming, my dear," Lucy laughed. "And there is our Admiral and his wife. I better wish them a good morning, too." Together, the two friends walked across the deck to where Sir Pierce and his wife stood. "Good morning, Sir Pierce, good morning, Lady Fallon," Lucy greeted. "Good morning, Mrs. Wilkes. Are you comfortable with the ship's movements?" "Oh, absolutely, I have a cast iron stomach," Lucy joked. "I was just having a slight indisposition, nothing that a good concoction could not solve." "I did not know that Dr. Wilkes was a herbalist, too?" Sir Pierce inquired. "Oh no, I am the herbalist. My father taught me, and it comes in handy from time to time." "You would not have a recipe against sea sickness?" Amanda Fallon asked weakly. In a second, Lucy was all concern. "You should just try and chew small bits of salted pork. Do not drink afterwards for an hour, even if you are thirsty. I will then make you a tea of camomile and mint leaves, to soothe the stomach." "And you should sit and wrap yourself into a warm cloak," Harriet seconded, noticing that the sea sickness made the young woman shiver with cold. Sir Pierce was clearly relieved, seeing that the two women took charge. Had Amanda been a raw recruit who complained about sickness, he would have simply ordered her to do some heavy physical labour, to distract her. But seeing that she was his cherished wife, and expecting a child, he had felt quite clueless as to what to do with her. A steward was summoned to get a deck chair for Lady Fallon, a warm blanket, and a tarpaulin, to keep her dry. Another steward was to boil water while Lucy went to collect the appropriate tea leaves. Lucy and Harriet spent the next hours mothering Sir Pierce' young wife. It was good they did, because both Sir Pierce and Sir Anthony were very busy. The ship was fresh from the dock, the crew was raw, and there were a thousand things to be decided or taken care of. Sir Pierce filled in unobtrusively whenever he saw that his flag captain was already taking care of four things at a time. By early afternoon, things calmed down, and the crew received their long overdue meal. Obstinately, Tony insisted on a sail drill in the afternoon. He was worried about the possibility of encountering an enemy ship with his clumsy crew. Gun drill had been done to some extent while laying at anchor, but the top men were still woefully inadequate to the standards of performance usually expected in a King's ship. It was a very tired free watch that turned in that evening, and a very tired and hungry Captain joined his Admiral and the women for a late dinner. Tony knew that he had neglected his wife all day long, and he felt his conscience prickle him about it. But when he started to apologise, Harriet cut him short. "Do not even mention it, darling. This is a critical point of the journey, the crew is still a mess, and you did not have one moment to spare. I had Lucy and Lady Fallon for company, and I was fine. You cannot run around me like a lovesick idiot while you have to sail a third rate. I understand and appreciate your responsibility, and I would never expect you to neglect your duty to appease me." Amanda Fallon looked at Harriet with an open mouth. She had nagged her husband a few times during the day, demanding his attention. Now she blushed deeply. She resolved to mould her behaviour on board the Asia on Harriet Carter's example. "Pierce, dear, I want to apologise for my behaviour today," she told her husband. "I felt sick, and this is all new to me. I trust that in a few days I shall be quite comfortable. Everybody has been so helpful." Sir Pierce, who had been quite annoyed a few times, smiled back at his wife. "Never worry, my dear, we shall make you a Navy woman in no time. What do you say, Sir Anthony, should we have Dr. Wilkes and his charming wife at our dinner table, too?" "Oh certainly, but not every day. The wardroom should be quite happy with Mrs. Wilkes attending the dinners, and it will reduce the drinking there." "That's right, Captain," the Admiral laughed. "A woman like Mrs. Wilkes will have a salutary influence on those young officers." After dinner, Tony went on deck once more to give the orders for the night. He had the sails shortened as a precaution, and he left orders to be roused whenever something out of the ordinary happened. Harriet was already in bed when he joined her. She watched him as he undressed methodically, laying out the clothes in a way that would allow him to dress quickly in case he was called on deck. He washed himself with a cloth and put on a fresh shirt before he joined her in the cot they shared. They were both dead tired, and for the first night since their wedding, they did not couple. Tony might be called on deck any time, and they had decided to remain chaste for most of the journey to avoid improper situations. To sleep with his sweet wife in his arms was a treat in itself, though, and Tony slept as soundly as he could expect. At two bells, he had to go on deck for a few minutes to supervise a change of course, but after that, he turned in again, and he slept until sunrise. When the runner knocked on the cabin door, he gave a sleepy Harriet a Good Morning kiss, and dressed quickly. Two hours later, Anthony Carter joined his wife, Lucy Wilkes, and the Fallons for breakfast. It had already become clear that Sir Pierce considered good food a necessity, and since they could both easily afford it, their table was richly laid. "How are things, Sir Anthony?" the Admiral asked between mouthfuls. "The good news is that we made it through the night in one piece, Sir Pierce," Tony answered wryly. "The wardroom is well stacked, and the warrant officers know their trade. We just don't have enough able seamen." The Admiral chuckled. "I'm just glad I don't have this sort of worries anymore. I take it you will have the crew exercise?" "Yes, Sir Pierce. This morning, we will have another sail drill. I will not even contemplate letting those landlubbers take down the top masts. We'd have two or three large spars pierce our hull if we tried that. In the afternoon, we shall clear for action. Lady Fallon, I advise you to have everything of value stowed away beforehand. The hands we detailed for the after cabin are experienced, but things tend to break when they are stowed away in a hurry. Harriet, you know about these things. Will you help Lady Fallon and Lucy?" "Lucy should know more about this. I have never sailed in a man o' war myself." Lucy Wilkes nodded. On the homebound voyage of HMS Medusa she'd had a small cabin to herself, and she recalled the haste with which the after guard had cleared the cabins. "You better stow away all personal clothing as well. Some men regard our underwear as collectibles," she giggled. Lady Fallon blushed slightly while her husband fought a grin, a futile attempt. In spite of herself, Lady Fallon laughed, too. "I suppose I have to adapt my views of propriety to the surroundings," she finally said. After breakfast, the women attended to the sorting of their personal possessions. That finished, they showed on the quarter deck and watched with awe and pity as the crew was performing endless manoeuvres in the rigging, setting sails, reefing sails, even bringing out the studding sails, for the wind was moderate. Sailing under all plain sail, the Asia proved to be a surprisingly fast ship, in spite of her wide beam. It helped that her copper bottom was new, but it was also her lines that made her fast for her size. "Dammit, Carter, where was that kind of ship when I commanded third rates?" Sir Pierce asked. When the log had been cast, Asia had turned in 9 and a half knots in the moderate breeze, admittedly under studding sails, but nonetheless a fine turn of speed. Tony did not answer. The Clyde would have run 11 knots, even twelve, under these conditions. He still mourned the loss of his big frigate and her well-trained crew. He returned his attention to the ship and ordered the studding sails run in again. It had to happen, almost inevitably. One of the raw men in the fore top lost his grip and his footing and fell from the top gallant yard, a 120 feet drop. Luckily, he worked the windward side, and be bounced off the ratlines twice before he smashed on the deck. The men on the quarter deck had not seen the incident, with the main tops'l and main course in the way, but the urgent call for the doctor alerted Tony. He rushed to the forecastle and arrived there together with Dr. Wilkes. The man lay in a puddle of blood but was still moving. Dr. Wilkes examined him, taking great care not to move the man too much. More to himself, he listed the injuries. "Broken collarbone, contained, ribs broken, too. Open fracture of the left tibia and the left femur." He pinched the skin on the uninjured leg, and the man flinched. "This is good. He may not be paralysed. Surgeon's mates! Lash him to a plank and bring him into the sick bay!" He looked up at Tony. "Will it be possible to reduce the rolling of the ship while I operate, Sir Anthony?" "Can you wait another six hours?" "Why?" "We can reach Falmouth in six hours. It is a protected bay. In the open channel, even if we heave to, the ship will be quite lively." Dr. Wilkes nodded. "Then I will try my best to keep him alive until we reach Falmouth." "Thank you, doctor!" Tony answered formally. "I will inform Sir Pierce." It turned out that Sir Pierce was not averse to a brief stop in Falmouth. Apparently, he had a cousin there, and he planned on visiting him during the enforced stay. They reached Falmouth in the late afternoon. The sailing master was familiar with the bay and they entered it in the weakening light of a setting sun. The young recruit had been sedated with a heavy dose of laudanum, and in the light of several lamps, Dr. Wilkes began to set the broken bones and repair the damage to muscles and skin. Once during the surgery, the young man stopped breathing, and to the astonishment of the surgeon's mates, Dr. Wilkes used his own breath to inflate the patient's lungs until he started breathing on his own again. When the operation was finished an hour later, the injured man was still alive, and the gossip of how the doctor had brought a dead man back to live spread like wild fire. Tony made the best out of the short stay in Falmouth, and work parties exchanged the water in the barrels against fresh water from the shore all night. He had also realised that they might be short on drink, and he had managed to purchase three cases of Rhine wine from a smuggler and six kegs of ale from a local brewer. The next morning, the young man had recovered enough to eat a broth and drink water, and Dr. Wilkes achieved the status of a sorcerer with the crew. The officers were aware of the fact that the successful surgery boosted the morale of the men. Sir Pierce made it a point to invite the doctor and his wife to lunch while the Asia was already ploughing through the choppy waves south of Ireland. Lucy beamed with pride at the praise that was heaped upon her husband, and Tony relayed the fact that Dr. Wilkes had already served the Navy as a volunteer in the Portsmouth infirmary. Lady Fallon was feeling much better already, thanks in part to Lucy's teas, and she was able to eat with some show of an appetite. Sir Pierce was very pleased with the presence of the Wilkes on board. He proposed toast after toast, and he was more than a little drunk when he finally rose from the table. Dr. Wilkes excused himself to look after his patients, and Lucy wanted to sleep a little in her chamber. Sir Pierce and his wife repaired to their own cabin, while Tony sat down at his desk to look at some reports. Harriet sat on a chair by an open window, enjoying the fresh Atlantic air. She pretended to read, but in truth, she watched her husband. Tony was reading the reports, making short notes on the margins. He then called for his secretary, and with an apologetic look at Harriet, he dictated several reports and answers to reports. She saw his look of despair at the sheer amount of paper work, and she had to smile. She knew from her father that there was a huge difference between being the captain of a frigate and the captain of a line-of-the-battle ship, not the least difference being the amount of paper work involved, and she sympathised with her husband, knowing that for an active young man like him, dictating letters to a dull secretary was punishment. When he had finally finished dictation and the secretary had withdrawn, she stood up and crossed the room. "Poor darling!" she said, pulling his head against her womb. "You must hate this part of your profession." "I could do without it," Tony admitted. "But I take consolation out of the fact that my dear wife appreciates my efforts." Harriet chuckled. "I appreciate your efforts very much, but not necessarily your efforts at dictation." A suppressed moan could be heard at that moment, and they both looked at each other and smiled. "Lady Fallon appreciates her husband's efforts, too," Harriet whispered and giggled. "Harriet, darling," Tony began, "I would love to be with you, but the way the crew is at the moment I may be called at any time." "Ssh, I understand. I've had your undivided attention for over a month, and I realise that you have a heavy responsibility. This ship is huge, and you have to whip it into shape. Sir Pierce is on a pleasure trip until we arrive in Bridgetown." "Once more I realise how lucky I am to have you as my wife," Tony answered simply. The kiss he gave her lasted a few minutes, regardless of the pressures of the service. When he released her, they were both breathless. "Once I know that I can rely on things running smoothly, I will make it up to you," he promised, and Harriet smiled. "I'm looking forward to it!" ------- It was two weeks later, and the Asia was ploughing through the South Atlantic under the press of full sail. Most of her crew knew their stations now and a semblance of normalcy pervaded the minds of the officers. Not that there was nothing to do. But when they exercised the crew or parts thereof, there was no apprehension anymore. The raw recruits had grown sea legs, and the more experienced men had got over their resentment of having been pressed into the service. But today, they all stood in their best uniforms on the deck, ready for inspection. It was the first Sunday of the month, and as tradition had it, the Captain inspected ship and crew. Walking along the lines of the Royal Marines, Anthony Carter tried to give the impression of a serious inspection. But he knew that the earth would move before Captain Bell, of the Royal Marines, would allow a single one of his men to appear on deck with dirty or damaged uniform parts. "Excellent, Mr. Bell," he acknowledged. "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Mr. Bell rapped in response. Now the Captain moved along the lines of the seamen. He tried to connect names and faces as he inspected the men. He also tried to read from their faces. Were the men sullen? Would they meet his gaze openly? Of course, the range of emotions displayed on their faces was wide, but on the whole, the mood in the crew was better than he had expected. Those two relentless weeks had done wonders to forge the crew into a functioning unit. He had not been forced to order more than five lashings, a very modest number, as he well knew. He always preferred to give punitive tasks rather than lashings, and with a raw crew, brutal punishments were the wrong way to start. He next mustered the ship's boys, thirty children, aged eight to thirteen years. They were often called powder monkeys, their main task in battle, but they were also on the bottom rung of the pecking order on board the ship, and subject to mistreatment not only from petty officers but also from crew members. He inspected them closely, making sure that none of them showed the telltale signs of abuse. Obviously, nothing was amiss there, and he moved on, thanking the deity for providing him with experienced petty officers who kept order in the lower decks. Followed by his First Lieutenant, Mr. Dougherty, he stalked solemnly back to the quarter deck. "The ship's in better order than I could hope, Mr. Dougherty," he said, his voice carrying. "Please convey my appreciation to the wardroom. You may dismiss the free watch. Rope yarn Sunday. The men deserve it." That meant that the watch free men were free to do as they pleased for the rest of the day. Mr. Dougherty looked upon his captain with his head tilted, but then he nodded in understanding. The men should learn that good behaviour was rewarded. "See to it that the grog is watered down, Mr. Dougherty," Tony told his second-in-command under his breath. "We don't want any disturbances." Joyce Dougherty caught the wink in his captain's eyes, and he notified the purser of the Captain's wishes. For the rest of the day, the ship was in comparative chaos as the men formed small groups on the upper deck, playing cards or games of chance, mending the clothes, whittling, telling stories and engaging in the various forms of social interaction. The officers kept a low profile, only interfering when tempers rose and quarrels broke out. All this permitted disorderliness ended, however, when the evening watch was called, and by nightfall, the Asia once again was a regular man o' war, making her way westward. Anthony and Harriet had skipped lunch in the Great Cabin, preferring to spend the time of leisure on the stern gallery. For the first time in two weeks, the two newlyweds had time on their hands to talk in depth. They had an early dinner with the Fallons, after which Tony went up to the quarter deck to give orders. He was just scribbling the course on a chalkboard when he checked. A dull sound had reached his ear. "Quiet on deck!" he snapped, and instantly, all movement and talk ceased. There it was again, and again. Those were gun shots. Small guns, he decided, six- or nine-pounders, and at least eight to ten miles away, and to starboard. "Masthead, any signs of shipping to the starboard side?" he shouted. A few seconds later, the response came. "Not sure, Sir. Looks like masts, but it's dark there." Of course it was. Those ships were due North, and the sky there was dark already. "Mr. Galbreith, bring her about, course due North. Have the ship cleared for action, if you please. Have the guns loaded but not run out yet." Of course, it took a few moments for the Marine drummer to get ready. But then, the roll of the drum reverberated through the ship. For most of the men, this was the first time that they heard that warlike sound for real, and Tony could imagine the confusion the men felt, being roused and driven to their posts after such a peaceful day. Sir Pierce Fallon appeared on the quarter deck. "What's up, Sir Anthony?" "There were shots fired six or seven miles to the North. Masthead thinks he saw ships. We're investigating, Sir Pierce." "Right! Sensible thing to do. The women have moved to the cable tier. If anything, it's a good practice." For a moment, Tony envisioned Harriet, Lucy and Amanda Fallon in the cable tier, just above the bilge, and he pitied them. "On deck!" the lookout hailed. "I can see gun fire, Sir. Real broadsides! Right ahead. Mebbe three miles." Mr. Dougherty saluted. "Ship is ready for action, Sir Anthony! Eleven minutes and thirty seconds." "We shall have to practice that," Tony sighed, and his First Lieutenant nodded his head sagely. They were making good way on the northward course, and the men on the deck could easily see the flames from the guns being fired. There were two ships, and it looked like one of them was preparing to close in. Closer they got to the scene of the battle, and suddenly, the ship that had been closing on its enemy braced up and tried to turn its tail. There was still light enough to see that the beleaguered ship flew English colours, and that was enough for Tony. The attacker had reacted too late, and he was cut off from an escape to windward, with the Asia bearing down on him before the wind. "Kindly have the guns run out, Mr. Dougherty," Tony ordered judiciously. If that foreign ship tried to evade him, he would fire a broadside to cripple it. If it tried to escape to leeward, well, the Asia was pretty damn fast before the wind. There it came. The foreign ship, a sloop, turned rudder and tried to escape eastward. "Starboard twelve points," Tony ordered. "Man the braces. Mr. Dougherty, bring her around. Larboard batteries at the ready! Fire at my command! Range three cable lengths!" The Asia had turned with her prey, and both ships were sailing on parallel courses. "Mr. Mercer, fire over her bows!" The foremost eighteen-pounder went off, and in the encroaching darkness, Tony could see the column of water right in front of the sloop. A second later, the side of the smaller ship was clouded in smoke, and a split second later, a crash in the hull told Tony that his ship had been hit. He blew his whistle once, and within two seconds, the entire broadside of the Asia was discharged. Tony could see that the water around the smaller ship churned where two tons of iron landed, and in the middle of it, he saw the mainmast of the sloop collapse. The Asia continued to bear down upon the enemy. A few minutes brought them into pistol range. "Back tops'ls!" he shouted, and the Asia lost momentum. With the rest of her steerage, she closed in on the sloop, her reloaded broadside as unspoken threat. "Do you strike?" Tony yelled through his speaking trumpet. "Yes, God rot you!" somebody hailed back. "Mr. Dougherty, kindly man the barge and the cutter and take possession." That was that. Now, he only needed to find out the nationality of the foreign ship, detail a prize crew, and he could chalk up the first success of his new command. ------- The man in front of him was of medium height, in his late forties or older, and even in the light of the swinging lantern, Tony saw that his coat had seen better days. The angry red "D" branded into his forearm told a story of desertion and being caught. The small eyes looked at Tony with defiance. He already knew that the sloop was a former French privateer turned pirate, the French crew supplanted by men from all nationalities. Their fate was sealed. Pirates caught red handed were hanged, and they had been apprehended while attacking a British Navy transport. "What is you name, Captain?" he nevertheless asked politely. "I'm Cap'n Harry Morgan, an' that's me real name." Tony allowed himself a smile. "A proud name, to be sure, Captain. You know of course what awaits you?" The man nodded with equanimity. "Ne'er had it in me to beg fer mercy, Cap'n. Ye reap what ye sow. But Cap'n, there's me daughter. She's just fourteen, an' she's only a lass. Her mother's daid, an' I had ter take her in. Ye would'ne hang a lass, would ye? Make you a deal, Cap'n. Ye set me lass free an' I'll come along an' make a nice repentant speech under them gallows." Tony tried to hide his bewilderment. It was unheard of that a flibustier sailed with a female on board unless she was held for ransom. He looked at the man, and for a second, he only saw a father trying to save his child. The problem was, the standing orders of the Navy made no exception for female pirates. To gain time, he stood and opened the cabin door. "Pass the word for the First Lieutenant," he told the Marine sentry, and within seconds he heard the summons repeated from the deck above his head. When Dougherty appeared, Tony looked up from the report he was writing. "Mr. Dougherty, Captain Harry Morgan claims that his young daughter is on board his ship. Kindly secure the girl and bring her aft. We don't want any unpleasantness, do we?" "Of course not, Sir Anthony!" Dougherty turned to the prisoner. "What does she look like?" "Brown 'air, little more'n five feet or such, eight stone or less, scarlet vest she wears." "I shall look for her then, Sir Anthony." When Dougherty left, Harriet and Amanda Fallon came in to reclaim the comfort of the aftercabins. The both stared at the old pirate who stood stoically in his shackles. Seeing the women he gave a mock bow. "Yer servant, ladies! The fire head is yours, Cap'n?" Harriet gave Tony an amused look, but he felt that he could overlook the improper behaviour from the captured rogue. "Lady Fallon, Harriet dear, we have captured Captain Harry Morgan of the Belle Isle," he said by way of introduction. Just then, the intermezzo was stopped by the return of the First Lieutenant who pushed ahead what seemed to be a street urchin whose hands were shackled. Only on second look did Tony see a rather pretty face, blackened by powder smoke. The green eyes were shining like beacons. "What is your name, girl?" Tony asked calmly, but he heard that Harriet took in a sharp breath. "Jenny Morgan," the girl spat. But her fear was palpable. She looked at her father with mixed emotions. "That would be Jenny Morgan, Sir Anthony!" Mr. Dougherty snapped. Casting a resigned glance around, the girl pulled back her shoulders. "Beg your pardon, Sir Anthony," she said more softly, "I did not know how to address you properly." Tony allowed himself a smile. "Where did you find her, Mr. Dougherty?" "With the rest of the surviving crew, Sir Anthony." "How old are you, Jenny?" Tony asked next. "Sixteen, Sir Anthony," the girl answered, causing a groan from the old pirate. "Shall we hang her with the rest of them, Sir Anthony?" Mr. Dougherty asked dubiously, causing a storm of protests from Amanda Fallon and Harriet. Tony held up his hand, and the protests died away. "Not right away. Captain Morgan will be brought to trial in Bridgetown. The girl will stay here for the moment. Have the Master at Arms remove those hand shackles. Her wrists and hands are too slender anyway. Have her feet shackled instead." Harriet shot a quiet look of protest. "If her father keeps his promise, she will be brought ashore and delivered into the custody of the authorities. Have the Captain locked away securely and prepare for the executions of the rest of the crew." "Aye aye, Sir!" Mr. Dougherty answered, obviously relieved that he would not have to execute a girl. He left the cabin with the captured pirate, and Tony turned to Harriet. "Harriet, dear, may I trouble you to search her thoroughly for any weapons or tools? And I mean thoroughly. I shall bind her hands securely." The girl held up her shackled hands. "There's no need to trouble your wife, Captain," she said in a small voice. "There's a knife in me boot an' a pen knife in me vest." Tony raised his eyebrows. The girl saw the implicated question. "I was to try an' set 'im free." She laughed bitterly. "He really thinks I'll help 'im. Mebbe I'm his daughter, my mother wouldn't 'ave known. But the way 'e's been treatin' me, I'll be more'n happy to see 'im swing from the yard arm." Harriet made a sympathetic noise, and the girl looked at her. When she saw concern in Harriet's eyes, she took a deep breath. "When mother died, 'e took me in, but grudgingly. I had to work as 'is cabin boy while we were at sea. And he, he wasn't acting like a father, no-how. Mostly, he was too drunk to do much. But for fourteen months, I've been dodging 'is 'ands." "Do you have any other living relatives who might take you in?" Tony asked. The girl shook her head. "Me Mum came from Inverness as indentured servant. Her contract was sold to a tavern owner in Kingston..." "Which tavern?" Tony interrupted. "The Blue Posts. She met 'Arry Morgan early on, when he was a master's mate, and she claimed that 'e's me father. When she died, she 'ad me sent to 'im." Tony believed her. He knew the Blue Posts. He had visited the place as a young man; in fact, he had met Rose Mulcahy there. "What was your mother's name?" "Heather Duncan, Sir Anthony." "Had she flaxen hair, like you?" The girl nodded, not daring to ask how this high and mighty captain could know her mother. Tony remembered a woman who had worked at the Blue Posts. She had taken him upstairs two or three times, and he remembered her talking of a daughter she had. Anyway, the story sounded true. He thought of something else. "Are there any other survivors your age or younger?" he asked Jenny. The girl thought for a moment. "There's Tom Simps and Bert Jameson. They're boys only. They're indentured." She took a deep breath. "Eric Johnsen is seventeen, Sir Anthony. 'E joined four months ago when 'is old ship was taken. 'E just wanted to save 'is life! 'E... 'E's been a good friend." Her eyes were imploring; obviously she cared for this Eric Johnsen. Tony considered the situation. The standing orders of the admiralty made no difference between voluntary and involuntary pirates. On the other hand, three youngsters would be a welcome addition for his own crew and not likely a threat. Three to four years in the Asia would drive out all thoughts of pirating. He made up his mind. "Pass the word for Mr. Dougherty!" he called, and the sentry outside repeated the call. Mr. Dougherty came a few minutes later. "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep once more, Mr. Dougherty. I just learned that three of the surviving crew have been prisoners in fact. Tom Simps, Bert Jameson, and..." Tony looked at Jenny once more, "Eric Johnsen. Kindly have them separated from the pirate's crew. Read 'em in first thing tomorrow." Dougherty's face showed his pleasure over having three new members for his short-handed crew. "Aye-aye, Sir! I'll see to it. Anything else?" "No, Mr. Dougherty, that's all. Have a good night!" When Dougherty had left, Jenny Morgan suddenly knelt at Tony's knees. "I'll never forget your kindness, Sir Anthony. Thank ye, from the bottom of me 'eart!" "You care for the boy?" Tony asked. The girl blushed deeply. "We planned to jump ship, at the first chance, to escape 'Arry Morgan." "Well, he'll be read in tomorrow. He better not jump this ship, Jenny, or he'll be flogged around the fleet," Tony said seriously. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 2: Bridgetown Bridgetown lay in the sunshine of the late spring day afternoon when they neared the harbour, beating up against the prevailing south-eastern trade wind. Harriet watched as the Asia drew nearer and nearer with each tack, the silhouette of the city growing steadily. Amanda Fallon was standing beside her, also curious to see their home for the next three years. "Mr. Dougherty, kindly have the gunner prepare for the salute!" Tony's order cut through Harriet's musing. "Prepare for the gunfire, Amanda, dear," she advised her companion who nodded calmly. Amanda Fallon had learned a lot about life on board a man o'war, and she was nothing like the scared and confused woman who had first come on board of the Asia. Closer and closer they crept towards the harbour until at last, they were within the range of the fort that protected the harbour. The first shot of the salute was fired, and the thunder of the guns rolled over the quiet water. The fort answered the salute, and by the time the last shot was fired, the Asia was preparing to anchor. Almost eight weeks after weighing anchor in Falmouth bay, the anchor cable rumbled and the anchor broke the surface of the water with a big splash. Over, to larboard, lay the squadron, with another two-decked ship, the Intrepid, flying the flag of Sir Roger Conway, the current commanding officer. Another eight salutes were fired for the flag, and the pop guns of the Belle Isle joined in. Harriet watched as the small schooner dropped anchor, too, flying British colours over the makeshift Jolly Roger Morgan had sailed under. The barge of Sir Pierce made ready, and soon, he was rowed to the flagship to pay a visit to Rear Adm. Conway. When he returned, two hours later, he informed the officers that the shift of command would take place on the next morning. Harriet, along with the crew, was disappointed that they would not go ashore that evening, but etiquette dictated they stayed on board until the formal shift of command from Sir Roger to Sir Pierce. The Intrepid looked to be in fine shape, indicating that she had spent a lot of time in harbour in the last years. That was comforting for Harriet, as she hoped for her husband to be with her for as much time as possible. That evening, the women received fresh water from the dwindling supplies for washing, and Harriet had Jenny wash her red hair with soap and sweet water. She felt like heaven afterwards, and she beamed at her husband when they sat down for dinner, perhaps their last on board the Asia for some time. They went to bed early, for the women wanted to attend the next morning's ceremony. Contrary to his usual practise, Tony woke Harriet before sunrise. They dressed carefully, Harriet in a gown retrieved from the hold, and Tony in his Nº1 dress uniform, with the sash and star of a Knight of the Bath. They had breakfast with the Fallons. Sir Pierce looked splendid in his admiral's uniform, albeit with the smaller star of a Companion of the Bath. That could not be helped, though. An hour after sunrise, the crew assembled on deck in divisions, and the Royal Marines band prepared for the ceremony. Tony offered Harriet his arm, and together, they followed Sir Pierce and his wife onto the quarterdeck. Thankfully, Sir Roger Conway was not one given to tardiness, and his boat hooked onto the windward chains right with the last chime of eight bells. He was a smallish man, but Harriet knew from her father that he was a sharp disciplinarian and had been a daring captain. Within twenty minutes, the transfer of command was effected, the band played "Hearts of Oak", and the officers assembled in the great cabin for a late breakfast. Sir Roger dazzled Amanda and Harriet with his compliments, clearly enjoying their company. He was also gracious to congratulate Tony on his achievements. He would leave in the Intrepid within the week, he announced, citing a longing for Irish stout ale as his chief reason. After the breakfast, Sir Pierce and his flag captain were rowed to the shore to pay a visit to the acting governor, Brig. Gen. Albert Selkirk. The governorship of Barbados was an Army appointment, and Gen. Selkirk was a veteran of the Charette campaign; in other words, his military career had been composed of retreats and defeats. He had been a Lieutenant Colonel, but he had since attained a brevet appointment to Brigadier in the Barbados Militia. They had warned the governor of their coming. Nevertheless, he saw fit to let them wait. For forty minutes, they sat in an anteroom, while a steady stream of visitors entered the governor's office and left. With every person that entered the office, Sir Pierce became more agitated, and a deep blush crept into his cheeks. Finally, he stood. Tony followed suite. The secretary looked up with a smirk. "Tell his Excellency that we can see he is too busy today. My compliments, and would he give me notice when his schedule will allow him to visit me in my flagship? I can even offer refreshments, something he obviously cannot afford for his visitors. Come, Captain, let us have a look at the town." They left the mansion and took the path to the harbour. When they were alone, Sir Pierce vented his indignation. "Who does this pompous ass think he is, keeping me waiting in his bloody anteroom? I'll show him! What insolence!" "He's probably trying to establish his superiority, Sir Pierce. It's a stupid game, if I may say so." Tony tried to calm his superior. "A stupid game? Well, two can play a game. It'll be a cold day in hell when I'll pay a courtesy visit to him again. We'll run the station and the squadron and we'll not bother telling him anything. And if he wants to read his bloody mail, he'll have to come, hat in hand!" Tony was perplexed. That a man of Sir Pierce's experience would let this personal affront influence his dealings in official matters was something he had not expected. Sir Pierce was not done yet. "Let's have a look at the Navy station, Captain. There are some things I want to find out." They walked the short distance to the harbour and the stone building that constituted the Navy head quarters. "It'll be a bit cramped, but it will do in the beginning," Sir Pierce said. Tony looked his question. "Simple, I shall live here with my wife. See that old magazine? It looks disused. With a few changes it will do magnificently as land quarters. We can share. This way, we'll have less to do with that jack-in-office. Let us get started." The marine guard saluted stiffly as they entered the station building. Sir Roger saw them right away and showed his successor the office and introduced him to his flag-lieutenant who was busy with showing Sir Pierce's flag-lieutenant the paperwork. Lt. Porter had spent the voyage out in the wardroom, hardly ever showing on deck, and Tony barely knew him. "Flags, your first order is to commission some workmen to convert that old magazine into land quarters for myself and for Sir Anthony," Fallon told the man. "And have the mail brought back on board. We shall wait for the governor to pick it up." Admiral Conway looked at Fallon. "I take it, you met his Excellency?" "No, I haven't, and I have no desire of meeting him. If he wants his mail after this morning, he better show on board my ship." "Listen, it's not my business anymore, but don't take him seriously," Conway said. "He's not worth the effort of getting riled over him. The important man here is Colonel Perth. He commands the half battalion of the West Indian Regiment and the militia. I found it easy to have dealings with him." Just then, the guard poked his head in. "Begging your pardon, Sir, but there's a gentleman to see you." Fallon took a breath. "Show him in. But next time, announce him to Mr. Porter, and he will decide." "Aye aye, Sir!" the guard answered, blushing. A few seconds later, a man in militia uniform showed. "I'm Captain Drury, aide-de-camp for his Excellency, the Governor. I came about the mail." His tone was haughty, and for a moment, Tony feared his admiral would explode. But Sir Pierce just ignored the man, giving Mr. Porter some more instructions. Drury looked about undecided and looked at Sir Roger for help. Conway grinned. "Captain, the next time you want to address a Rear-Admiral and Commanding Officer, you better address him as "Sir", and you better wait until given permission to speak. Why don't you state your wishes with Sir Pierce's flag-lieutenant, and he will expedite your business?" Drury gulped while Lt. Porter looked at him expectantly. "I'm Captain Drury, aide-de-camp for his Excellency, the Governor. I came to ask about the mail," he repeated himself. Porter turned. "Sir Pierce, Captain Drury is here to inquire about the mail. He's the aide-de-camp of the governor." Fallon looked up. "Tell him that I cannot hand over the mail. He has not been introduced to me, and I don't hand over official mail to strangers. If his Excellency had seen fit to see me this morning and to introduce his aide-de-camp, that would not be a problem. But it can be fixed. Tell him to accompany his Excellency when he visits my flagship, and we can effect all the necessary introductions." "His Excellency did not mention any plans to visit your flagship, Sir Pierce," Drury sputtered. "Too bad," Sir Pierce answered nonchalantly. "He might have learned something about hospitality." It was a very red-faced Captain Drury who retreated from the station house, and it was a very smug Rear Adm. Fallon who grinned at the other officers. Tony was a little worried about the personal feud developing between his admiral and the governor. "Begging your pardon, Sir Pierce, but it's official mail. Not handing it over may cause trouble with the Colonial Office." Sir Pierce continued his smug grin. "Don't worry, Carter. Selkirk will be supplanted soon. In fact, the new governor is on his way, Lt.-General Sir Wilfred Ashton. I had dinner with him in London. Selkirk's was a temporary appointment; he's just a Brigadier in the Militia, a brevet appointment. When all is said and done, he's a Lieutenant Colonel, even junior to you. It's too bad that he won't know about his replacement until it'll be too late." ------- Over the next week, the impasse between the governor and the admiral remained unsolved. While workmen from Bridgetown and work parties from the squadron were employed in making the magazine building habitable, the women remained on board the Asia, their stay on board alleviated by the availability of fresh water. One evening, Colonel Perth paid a visit to the Asia, and he was received with courtesy by the admiral and his staff. Colonel Perth was delighted to meet the women, issuing a counter invitation to his house, located on his sugar plantation to the north of the city. It was their first encounter with Bridgetown's society. Most of the citizens were eager to meet the new Commanding Officer. There was some disappointment, too, since the senior officers were married, and several mothers were dismayed at the lack of chances for their nubile daughters. On the other hand, the presence of three English ladies gave opportunity to gather all the society gossip. Amanda Fallon, Lucy, and Harriet spent the evening making acquaintances, while Sir Pierce and Tony met the most important planters and merchants. They also met Justice Everton and scheduled the trial of the pirate Harry Morgan. The merchants duly expressed their satisfaction over the capture of one of the last pirates at large. Justice Everton inquired about the rest of the pirates, and he seemed disappointed that Sir Pierce had seen fit to have them hanged right away. Nothing was mentioned about Jenny Morgan, and Tony was glad of that. The way the Justice was disposed, he would have had the girl hanged without question. It was close to midnight when they returned to the Navy Station. The conversion of the magazine into a living quarters was not completed, yet, and they were rowed back to the Asia for the night. A week later, the former magazine was ready to move in, and even Tony, who had been sceptical about the whole plan, had to admit that the building was suited perfectly. He and Harriet had four rooms for themselves, the same as Sir Pierce and his wife had. They shared a single large kitchen that separated their quarters, and two smaller chambers for the female servants. A Marine detachment from the Asia was posted in the Navy Station to guard the Admiral's quarters. It was a relief for the women to settle into their new, land based quarters. Sir Pierce had been thoughtful enough to have a smaller, adjacent building converted as land quarters for Jonathan Wilkes and his wife. Therefore, the three women were able to explore Bridgetown together. In the middle of this change, a sail was sighted approaching Bridgetown harbour. It was the official post package, and it carried the new governor, Sir Wilfred Ashton. The arrival of his successor caught Brigadier Selkirk flatfooted, since he had never picked up the official mail. There was an awkward delay before His Excellency could land, another delay before Selkirk was summoned, and yet another two days before he was able to prepare the paperwork for turning over the governorship. Sir Wilfred did not spare his predecessor a few choice comments. He also made sure to invite Sir Pierce into the governor's mansion as his first official act, while a red faced Brigadier Selkirk stood aside, ignored by the new governor and his guest. The arrival of an unmarried new governor sparked a veritable frenzy of dinner parties and receptions where his Excellency was introduced to all the unmarried women and girls the island could boast of. Sir Pierce and his flag captain, with their wives, were invited to all those functions, too, and Harriet was almost relieved when Amanda Fallon's advanced pregnancy gave them excuse to decline invitations. The next important event was the trial of the pirate Harry Morgan. It was a big event, with the Governor and the Commander in Chief attending, and the small court house was filled to overflow. The court scribe read for what felt like hours from a copy of the report Tony had prepared for Their Lordships. Then, four officers of the Asia, including Captain Sir Anthony Carter, KB, gave their testimony. True to his word, Harry Morgan confessed everything and asked for clemency. Not with Justice Everton, though. After the jury had found Morgan guilty of piracy, Everton pronounced the death sentence with triumphant glee, as if he had personally captured the hapless Morgan. The sentence was executed early on the next morning, again with all the dignitaries present. Jenny Morgan spent the morning cleaning the floors and preparing vegetables for the lunch. She was so busy that she never thought about her father, exactly as Harriet had planned. Able seaman Eric Johnsen was sent ashore from the Asia in the afternoon, to deliver a letter from Sir Anthony to Lady Carter, giving the young man his first chance in two months to spend an unobserved hour with Jenny. This did a lot of good for the young girl's balance of mind. Harriet herself was happy during that time. The Asia never left Bridgetown for more than three or four days, usually every two weeks, to exercise her crew and to show presence. Most evenings, Tony was sleeping ashore, and they basked in their closeness. Their lovemaking, by necessity, became subdued as Harriet's pregnancy proceeded, but she did not feel less loved. Add to that the companionship of Lucy and Amanda Fallon, and Harriet was happier than ever before in her life. In late August, Amanda Fallon went into labour, two weeks before her due date. The birth went well, though, and on the next morning, Sir Pierce could announce the birth of his first son, Orrin James Fallon. The midwife had banned Harriet from Amanda's bedroom during the birth, but what she heard made her apprehensive. This was blown away, though, when she had the first look at the newborn child. The precious little boy awakened her mother instincts, and she could sit and watch the child for hours. ------- A week later, the post packet from Jamaica was announced. From their terrace, Tony and Harriet had a view over the harbour and they could see the brig as she rounded the northern tip of the jetty and crept into the bay. Tony and Harriet were mildly interested. After all, Tony still held his shares in the shipping line of Whitney & Cie, and he had sent word of his new station to Mr. Whitney. An hour later, Tony was on board the Asia and busy with the paperwork. The purser had submitted his monthly report, and not for the first time, Tony marvelled at the costs. It seemed like a colossal waste of money to station a ship of the line in peaceful Barbados, where her ponderous broadside was useless. For the same money, two frigates and two sloops would have been of far more use, patrolling their sector of the Caribbean. By noon time, Tony had finished the paper work for the day, and he had himself rowed to the shore. He should not complain, he thought, looking forward to lunch with Harriet. The boat hooked on the small pier, and from there, Tony had only a minute's walk to his land quarters. He could hear immediately that Harriet was entertaining a guest. When he entered, he was surprised. Sitting by the table was none other than Mr. Edward Rawling, attorney at law, while Harriet sat in her customary rocking chair. Mr. Rawling had been Tony's solicitor when he still lived in Kingston. Rawling rose when Tony entered. "Good day, Sir Anthony!" "Why, a good day to you, Mr. Rawling!" Tony answered. "What brings you to Barbados?" "Sad business, Sir Anthony, very sad business." "You worry me, Mr. Rawling," Tony said, and he meant it. "We lost our good Mr. Whitecliff to the yellow fever. He had dealings in the North, and when he returned, he was feverish already. His poor wife tended him until he died, and then she became sick too. We buried her three weeks ago." Tony felt the blow almost physically. Rose! His Rosy Mulcahy was dead! A wave of sadness flowed over him. Brave, loving, caring Rose! With an effort, he cleared his throat. "This, hrhm, is indeed the worst of news, Mr. Rawling. Mrs. Whitecliff was my faithful housekeeper for many years. It makes me wish she had consented to follow me to England." Then he remembered Little Emily, Rose Mulcahy's daughter. "What happened to her daughter, Mr. Rawling?" "Mrs. Whitecliff wisely sent her daughter to stay with neighbours while she tended her sick husband. The girl is healthy. In fact, hrhm, in fact ... Well, Mrs. Whitecliff left a letter, asking me to contact you. She claims that you promised to ... Please excuse me, Lady Carter! It seems you promised to take care of the girl if something happened to her mother. When I learned from Mr. Whitney that you are in Bridgetown, I undertook to bring the girl here." Mr. Rawling was red in the face and sweating. He'd had no way of knowing that the Captain had since married, and the whole situation was highly embarrassing. Tony remembered his words well. It had been shortly after his promotion to Captain. He had promised to take care of Emily if anything happened to Rose. "The girl is here?" he temporised. "Yes, indeed. I left her in the tavern where I am lodging. The innkeeper's wife is looking after her." "It is indeed so that I promised Mrs. Whitecliff, then Mrs. Mulcahy, to look after her daughter if something happened to her. As you will appreciate, this is something I need to discuss with Lady Carter." "Certainly, Sir Anthony. I regret being the bearer of such bad news. I will stay in the Peacock Tavern for a few days, until the post packet will return to Kingston." "You will hear my decision within the next days, Mr. Rawling," Tony said solemnly. After Rawling had left, Tony looked at Harriet. Her eyebrows were raised, indicating her curiosity. "Well, you know about Rose Mulcahy, don't you?" Tony asked, temporising. Harriet nodded. "Yes, I remember her. I'm very sorry, darling. I know she meant something to you." "Yes, she ... she believed in me. She was a good woman, a good mother. Her life had been harsh; her parents had died when she was small. That's why she was afraid for her daughter, if something happened to her. I promised her to take care of Emily." Harriet shrugged. "Then you must keep your promise. Just answer me one question, Tony: do you think the girl might be your child?" Tony shook his head. "That was what I thought at first, but Rose assured me that I couldn't be the father." Harriet nodded. "Let's have a look at the girl. How old is she?" "She was born in '98, she's eight." "The poor girl. She must be terribly frightened," Harriet said. ------- Emily did not remember Tony- she had been less than three years old when she had seen him last. She stood in the living room, in front of Mr. Rawling, who held her skinny shoulders. Tony recognised the doll that she kept clutched to her chest. It had been six years ago when he had given the doll to Emily. One look at the girl also dispelled any suspicion that she might be his daughter. The girl did not resemble Tony or his parents. Apparently, Harriet went through the same evaluation, for she heaved a small sigh of relief. "Emily, do you remember me at all?" Tony asked gently. The red curls danced as the girl shook her head. "Do you remember the house you lived in, in Coopers Alley, before your mother married Mr. Whitecliff?" Here, Emily nodded, a brief smile playing around her mouth. "It was a nice house. Mrs. Chalmers, next door, let me play in her yard. She had a swing." Tony nodded, thinking of how to continue. "What is the name of your doll, Emily?" Alarmed, the girl pressed the doll against her chest again. "Betsy," she mumbled. "And do you remember how you got Betsy?" Suddenly, the girl's eyes went big. The blue and gold uniform, the voice, and Tony's face combined with her blurred memory. She pointed at Tony. "You're the Captain!" she blurted. Tony smiled with relief. "Yes, I am. You and your mother were living in my house, back then. Your mother looked after me and my house. We were good friends, too. It was on the same evening when you got Betsy, when your mother asked me to take care of you, if anything happened to her. That's why you are here now. My wife and I would like to take care of you." Emily looked at Harriet who smiled tentatively at the girl. "You're pretty," she stated. "My Mum was pretty, too." "Yes, she was," Harriet said softly. "I never spoke to her, but I saw her once, in the market, many years ago. I will have a baby soon, Emily. Will you stay with us and help me take care of the baby?" Emily's eyes went big again. Unable to speak, she just nodded eagerly. Mr. Rawling heaved a sigh of relief. "I have prepared papers, Sir Anthony. Will you accept her as your ward?" Tony looked at Harriet briefly. She nodded. "That would be the best." "Then, there is the question of the trust fund. I have taken care of it over the past three years, and with good returns." Tony weighed the question. "My home is in Portsmouth, now, and that's where we shall return to eventually. I would ask you to transfer the balance of the fund into the care of your colleague, Mr. Ebenezer Hogsbotham. Mr. Hogsbotham handles my affairs." "Very well, Sir Anthony. I have had dealings with Mr. Hogsbotham, back in '03. I can use the same routes of transfer. Should the fund still be for the benefit of Emily Whitecliff?" "Certainly, Mr. Rawling, payable upon her becoming of age or her marriage." Rawling nodded. "Quite!" he said, rather pompously. Suddenly, Tony realised that for Mr. Rawling, dealing with Captain Sir Anthony Carter, KB, was a highlight of his professional career. Rawling's usual clientele consisted of Kingston's merchants and a few master-owners of small trading vessels. "I must thank you, Mr. Rawling, for the handling of this sad affair. I ask you to imburse yourself from my account for the costs incurred on this trip." Rawling still managed Tony's earnings from the partnership with the Whitney & Cº shipping line. The worthy man, however, lifted his hands in protest. "I could never do that. Poor Mr. Whitecliff contracted the dreaded fever while on duty for our firm. It was the least I could do for his daughter, to deliver her into your care." Tony nodded. "I will certainly not interfere with what you see as your gentlemanly obligation. It confirms the excellent opinion that I always had of you and your firm." Rawling bowed in response, blushing pink. "I shall undertake to transfer the proceeds from Mr. Whitecliff's estate into the trust fund for the girl, as soon as the estate is closed." "I am convinced that everything will be in excellent order, as always," Tony responded. Mr. Rawling took his leave, then, promising to visit once more before his return to Kingston. Harriet summoned Jenny Morgan. "Jenny, this is Emily. She is the daughter of a friend of Sir Anthony. She will be our ward. You will have to share your room with her and help her settle in." Jenny looked at the girl, and a smile lit up her face. "Yes, milady, I can take care of her." She turned to the little girl and held out her hand. "Emily, I'm Jenny. I'll look after you." Emily looked at the girl and nodded mutely. Jenny helped her with the valise that held her clothes and other worldly possessions. "Please take stock of her clothes, Jenny," Harriet told the girl. "Let me know if she needs things." "Yes, milady," Jenny said cheerfully. The transfer of Eric Johnsen to the Captain's gig and his frequent visits to his Captain's quarters, to deliver messages, had changed Jenny Morgan's outlook on life. Right now, her life was as close to perfect as it had ever been, and Jenny was eager not to jeopardise her newly found happiness. Hence, she did everything in her power to become indispensable to Harriet. For Harriet, having the girl was a godsend. True, she had her faithful maidservant to look after her clothes and to comb her hair, but she was a simple soul. By contrast, Jenny was quick-witted and resourceful, always anticipating Harriet's needs. This late in her pregnancy, Harriet relied on Jenny with the running of the household. In the following days, the sight of Jenny running about the house with Emily in her wake became a common spectacle. With all the eagerness of an eight year-old, Emily strove to emulate Jenny, so much in fact, that Harriet became worried that the small girl might do too much. September had arrived, and Harriet's pregnancy was approaching term rapidly. She was big with child now, and mostly confined to their quarters. The daily visits of Lucy and Amanda helped Harriet to cope. Lucy was very active in Bridgetown's society, and she fed Harriet and Amanda the gossip of the town. For instance, Brigadier Selkirk had left Bridgetown for London, it was said, with his family and servants. His family owned a "rotten borough" in Lincolnshire, and he represented it in Parliament. Bridgetown in general did not overly mourn his departure. The new governor was seen frequently with a Mrs. Elvira Pritchard, a widow and substantial landowner, and Bridgetown's leading citizens expected a speedy engagement. This morning, Tony had left early, to oversee a corporal punishment on board the Asia, and Harriet did not expect him back before evening. She did not mind. She had felt better the day before, quite active and upbeat, in fact. Now, Harriet sat at the breakfast table, enjoying a cup of freshly brewed coffee, a taste she had acquired during the last months. One thing she liked about Barbados was the cheap sugar; it cost only a fraction of what the merchants in England charged. Thus, her coffee was sweetened to her liking, and she felt extremely well. She had not finished her cup when her unlikely servant, Jenny, announced Lucy. Harriet was still wearing a light dressing gown over her nightshirt, but she did not bother changing. After all, Lucy had seen her in all states of undress before. Lucy gave her sitting friend a hug. "You look upbeat, Harriet." "Well, I am. I feel ... well, upbeat," Harriet answered with a smile. Just as she said this, Harriet felt a hint of contraction in her abdominal muscles. "I should have kept my mouth shut," she grinned wryly. Lucy looked her question. "Just a little contraction," Harriet explained. "I haven't had one of those IN DAYS!" She almost shouted the last words, suddenly feeling a much stronger spasm. Harriet breathed deeply. "Are you quite all right, dearest?" Lucy inquired. "Yes ... No! I've not had a contraction this strong so far." "You are close to term, Harriet," Lucy answered. "Why don't you rest on that chaise lounge?Mayhap, it is that infernal coffee you insist on drinking?" "The coffee has always been agreeable with me," Harriet answered, bemused. "You are right, though. I am close to term. Can you stay with me for a little while?" "That's why I am here, dear," Lucy smiled. "Jonathan may not return before tonight. They have one of those horrible lashings, and he will want to look after the victim." Lucy was averse to the use of the cat o' nine tails, and she never missed an opportunity to argue against corporal punishment. Harriet shook her head. "The one today is a thief. He stole from his mess mates. If he isn't flogged, the crew will kill him." Harriet had heard about this often enough. The lower deck knew but one punishment for theft, death. By flogging the offender, Tony tried to forestall a vigilante killing. Once punishment was meted out, the lower deck might be appeased. Even while Harriet was mulling this, the next contraction hit her. This time, she could not help but yelp in pain. In a flash, Lucy was at her side, and Jenny came running. "M'lady, should I run for the midwife?" Harriet was still breathing hard to control the spasms, and Lucy nodded in her stead. A heartbeat later, Jenny was running to town. She returned, not even a half hour later, with a winded midwife in her tow. The good woman glared at the girl while she tried to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her brow. At the last moment, she remembered to curtsey. "Your servant, M'lady," she panted. "You are having contractions?" "Indeed, I have," Harriet answered. "They are coming closer, too." "Well, let us have a look then," Betsy O'Hara, the midwife, announced cheerily. She rolled up her sleeves and bade Harriet to sit back and spread her legs. "You are not planning to touch Lady Carter with those grimy hands, are you?" Lucy interjected. "It's mucky business, birthing is. I'll wash after," the woman answered carelessly. "You'll wash your hands now, before you touch her!" Lucy retorted with heat. "Listen, young Missy..." "It's Mrs. Wilkes, and my husband is Doctor Wilkes, of the Royal College of Surgeons. You will either wash the grime off your hands or leave," Lucy said fiercely, her hands on her hips. Harriet almost laughed. Friendly, sunny Lucy was on the verge of breathing fire. The midwife was properly cowed; not so much because of the fact that Lucy was the wife of a high and mighty doctor, but rather because she seemed to spoil for a catfight. "Beg your pardon, Missus! I'll wash up, right away." "Use soap! I'll have a look at those fingernails, too!" Lucy barked after the woman. Jenny ran after the midwife. If this was important for Harriet's health and well being, she would make sure that the woman washed properly. With a handbrush and soap, Jenny scrubbed the fingertips, too, until the nails looked clean. Then she took a mighty scissors and trimmed the nails. Meanwhile, Harriet had another contraction, and Lucy held her all the time. When the midwife showed again, Lucy inspected the hands before she allowed the woman to examine Harriet. Harriet was past all concerns of modesty, but she felt the midwife was overly rough in her examination. She flinched more than once. Jenny noticed. With clenched teeth, she hissed at the kneeling midwife. "You want to be more gentle with my mistress!" Perhaps it was her tone of voice, perhaps it was the tip of Jenny's folding knife that pricked Betsy O'Hara's bountiful behind, but the woman was more careful now. Her eyes darted between the blonde neatness freak and the green eyed demon, not sure which of them to fear more. "She's only a little open," she announced. "It'll take some more time. M'lady, if you can, try to walk about a little. It'll speed up things." Carefully, Harriet stood and, supported by Jenny, walked back and forth in the room. She felt the better for it, once she was moving. "Y'may want to use the chamber pot, too, M'lady," the midwife suggested cautiously. "That will make things less messy, later." Helped by Jenny, Harriet went to the small privy where she relieved herself. When she was finished, Jenny came with a basin of heated water, soap and a wash rag, and cleaned her mistress thoroughly. When she was finished, she helped Harriet to her bedroom. With a sigh of relief, Harriet sank back into the pillows. "Thank you, Jenny. You are a good girl." "It's little, M'lady," Jenny mumbled. ------- With an effort, Captain Sir Anthony Carter forced his face to show no emotions. Lt. Dougherty was supervising the corporal punishment, and Tony knew him to be as apprehensive as himself. Three dozen lashes was by far the harshest punishment yet meted out in the Asia, in fact the upper limit of what the naval regulations officially permitted. However, any lesser punishment would cause discontent among the crew. "Able seaman John Hancock, you have been found guilty of theft on board His Majesty's Ship Asia. For this, you will receive three dozen lashes. Bo'sun's Mate Anderson, do your duty!" They had picked out Anderson as the smallest of the boatswain's mates, to limit injury to the delinquent. Hancock was a good seaman, mostly, and he had not given trouble yet. Tony had no desire to have him crippled. The drum of the Marine tambour rolled, and with a fleshy 'thwack!', the cat o' nine tails impacted on Hancock's back. Hancock howled with the shock and the pain. Again, the drum sounded, and again, the cat bit into Hancock's flesh. By the end of the first dozen lashes, Hancock screamed incessantly. By the end of the second dozen, he was hoarse and bleeding from his mouth. With all the screaming, the gag had come loose, and he had bitten his tongue. His hoarse screams weakened, and when a pale and shaken Anderson called "An even three dozen!", the man was almost unconscious. Following Tony's nod, Dr. Wilkes rushed forward with his surgeon's mates, and Hancock was whisked away into the sick bay. On Dougherty's orders, a group of men manned the deck wash pumps, to flush away Hancock's blood, while the rest of the crew left the deck. Tony could see that a few of the warrant officers clapped Anderson's back, and even a few crew member nodded at him. This gave Tony hope that the men would accept that Hancock had paid the price for the theft he committed. With a sigh, he returned to the cabin and buried himself in the paperwork. A half hour later, the sentry called from outside. "Dr. Wilkes to see you, Sir Anthony!" "Come in, please!" Tony called back, and Jonathan Wilkes let himself in. "How is Hancock?" Tony asked immediately. "He'll live," Jonathan Wilkes shrugged. "I know your reasoning behind that punishment, but it is still barbaric." Tony nodded his consent. "I agree with you, and you know that I do not order more than a dozen lashes in most cases. The crew wanted to see his blood, though. Have a brandy?" Tony offered. Wilkes nodded, and Tony called for his steward. Giles produced a bottle of fine French brandy and poured two glasses. Silently, the two men sipped the amber liquid. "It's strange," Jonathan Wilkes mused. "I never thought shipboard life would be so ... boring." "Sir!" he added as an afterthought. "May I ask you to call me by my first name?" Tony offered. "Our wives are best friends, and I would like to call you a friend, too." Jonathan Wilkes looked at Tony with surprise, first. But then, a smile showed on his gaunt face. "With pleasure, Anthony," he answered, raising his brandy glass. "To friendship, Jonathan!" Tony toasted. After they sipped their brandy, Tony took up Jonathan's train of thought. "You are right, of course. Ninety-nine per cent of what we do is drudgery and routine. The real problem is to stay alert for the one per cent of decisive action you may encounter at any second. When all is said and done, we are judged over that one per cent. Think of Sir Robert Calder. He was an exemplary commander in chief. He maintained a blockade over two enemy ports without a single slip-up. Yet, he made one questionable decision, and the papers screamed for his head." "That's true. Come to think of it, our encounter with that pirate was mostly due to your alertness. I imagine, it would have been simple to neglect the faint sound of a distant cannon shot." Tony nodded and smiled. "I imagine that a surgeon has such moments, too?" "More than we care to have, I'll say," Jonathan sighed. "To me, that is a compelling reason to abstain from spirits as a general rule." They both smiled ruefully at their brandy glasses. "I limit myself to two glasses each day," Tony admitted. "One after lunch and one after dinner. I needed this one though, to settle my stomach." Jonathan nodded. "Hancock was dead sober," he remarked. That was unusual but telling. Normally, the crew would collect from their rum rations to help a delinquent to a numbing helping of rum. Not this time. Hancock had stolen, and that was unforgivable. "I may have to transfer him once he can do duty again. I don't want him to go missing one night," Tony mused. "But then, the story has spread in the squadron. He won't be safe in any ship." Jonathan nodded. "I had better return to the sick bay. I must change Donaldson's wrappings. The stump is healing, so far." "You had better," Tony agreed with a sigh. Able Seaman Donaldson had his foot squashed when a hoist broke and a flour barrel dropped on him. Jonathan had to amputate the mess. Donaldson was a volunteer, and he had been in line for promotion to boatswain's mate. He had been Captain of the fore top, but the loss of a foot precluded any duty aloft. He had begged Tony not to get a disability discharge, and Tony was inclined to find work for him among the 'idlers', as the crew called the specialists like sailmakers, sick bay attendants, and purser's mates. Jonathan let himself out, and Tony returned to the documents on his desk. He decided to make an effort, and it was late afternoon when he found that he had, indeed, finished all the paperwork, at least for the time being. He felt that he had earned himself a quiet evening with Harriet, and he had himself rowed to the shore after giving orders for the night. When he entered his quarters, the first person he saw was a beaming Lucy Wilkes who was chattering away with Jenny and a matronly woman whom Tony recognised as the midwife. There was an empty bottle of Sherry wine on the table that had been full the day before, Tony knew. Lucy jumped up and hugged him exuberantly. With some delay, his brain made the connections between the presence of the midwife and Lucy's happy state of drunkenness. "Oh, dear God!" he exclaimed, in spite of the fact that he was a convinced agnostic. "Quick, Lucy, tell me! Where's Harriet?" "Shleeping," Lucy slurred with a happy smile. "Shhee needshit. You have a wonnerful boy, yess, a wonnerful boy!" And then, Lucy did something she had done only once before. She gave dazed Tony a big kiss. "Felishitashions!" Tony felt dizzy with surprise, and it took him an effort to steer Lucy back to her chair. Jenny was at his side. "May I show you, Sir Anthony?" she offered, and Tony realised that at least Jenny was dead sober. He let the excited girl lead him into the bedroom. At the door, he stopped and gaped. There was his Harriet, her hair a red halo on the pillow, who held a tiny infant in her arm. Contrary to Lucy's statement, she was very much awake, and she gave her husband a tired but beaming smile. In a flash, Tony was on his knees at her side. With a look of wonder he regarded the tiny human being in Harriet's arm. The red and wrinkled face bespoke full concentration as the little boy suckled on Harriet's left breast. "Harriet, I can't say how happy you make me!" Tony at last found words. He leaned over, to kiss her forehead, but Harriet would have none of that. With her free hand, she directed his mouth to her lips, and as usual, they became lost in the kiss. "Why did nobody send for me?" Tony asked, slightly petulant, when they separated. Harriet shrugged. "At first, it seemed as if it would take at least until evening, according to the midwife, and we decided to wait. Then, around noon, everything went really fast, and there was no time to send for you. I'm glad you did not have to hear my cries. I'm afraid I wasn't very brave." He kissed her again. "You are the bravest woman I know, Harriet." He looked at his son again. "May I hold him?" "You had better take off that coat first, Tony. He may throw up, and we don't want to ruin your uniform." Quickly, Tony stripped off his coat and his necktie. The little boy had finished drinking for the moment, and Harriet closed her shirt before she handed her baby child to her husband. "He's so tiny," Tony marvelled in the tradition of fathers down from the times of Adam. "You wouldn't say that if you had to push him through ... well you don't have a fanny, but you can guess my meaning," Harriet smiled wryly. "Did the birthing hurt you much, love?" Tony asked with worry in his tone. "According to the midwife and to Lucy, there was no tearing. Lucy used rendered deer tallow on me, before things started. I was so lucky that she was there. Has she gone home, already?" Tony chuckled. "No, she and the midwife found my Sherry bottle and celebrated. Jenny's the only sober person, right now." Harriet giggled. "They earned it." She turned sober. "How shall we name him?" Tony thought only briefly. His father had been dead for a decade, and he would not have cared, either. Harriet's father, however, was very much alive, and he had been a good friend and sponsor for Tony. "Why don't we name him Richard, after your father?" he asked gently. Harriet beamed at her husband. "Father will be so proud! Thank you, Tony, my love!" Indeed, four days later, in the large church of Bridgetown, Richard John Carter was baptised. Sir Pierce and Jonathan Wilkes served as godfathers, and a detachment of the Royal Marines fired a volley outside the church. Little Richard was as healthy as his parents could wish, and Harriet soon forgot the labours of labour when she sat with Amanda Fallon, both women holding and feeding their sons. Lucy would join them often, regarding the infants wistfully, for she had not yet contrived to be with child. Once she recovered from giving birth, Harriet began to explore Bridgetown and its surroundings. A wetnurse was bought at auction, a young slave woman from a plantation to the south, named Ellie, who took over Richard's feeding, giving Harriet freedom to leave their quarters. On Harriet's urgings, Tony filed manumission papers for Ellie the very next day, and hired her back for room and board. Harriet and Lucy taught the young woman the rudiments of reading and writing and some numbers, too. Jenny, who felt left out, was included in those lessons, albeit at a higher level, for she had had some schooling in her young years. It was a happy time for all of them. Harriet enjoyed the receptions, soirees and balls at the Governor's Mansion, dragging a Tony with her who delighted in her joy and swallowed his own misgivings. The season culminated with a New Year Ball, jointly hosted by Sir Wilfred Ashton and Sir Pierce Fallon. Harriet danced until the wee hours of morning, she enjoyed the wine offered and the food, and when they returned to their quarters, she enjoyed a rather drunken bout of lovemaking with her husband. Before she fell asleep, she had a brief thought that this year 1807 was indeed starting very promising. Only a week later, however, the happiness came to an end. On the 8th of January, a two-masted brig entered Bridgetown harbour, flying the pennant of a Navy auxiliary. She carried despatches, no doubt, for as soon as she anchored, an officer jumped into a jolly boat and had it rowed to the Asia. Tony met the officer at the port. He was a lieutenant, obviously older already, and clearly apprehensive. "Lt. Halliwell, Sir, of HM Brig Flame. I have dispatches for Admiral Fallon." "Very well, Mr. Halliwell, welcome aboard," Tony answered politely. He turned for a runner. "Pass the word for Mr. Porter!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" the man rapped and ran aft. A mere minute later, Lt. Porter led the visitor aft, to the Admiral's cabin. Tony was curious as to the nature of the dispatches, but for the moment, his attention was occupied by a technical discussion regarding the re-arrangement of the water barrels, to improve the ship's trim. Halliwell had already left when a midshipman appeared. "Sir Pierce's compliments, Sir Anthony, and would you visit his cabin!" Curious, Tony headed for the aftercabin. When he entered, he saw his admiral pacing the room, a storm cloud over his brows. "Ah, there you are, Carter! We are recalled to England. No, that's not right, to Ireland. Their Lordships have come to the conclusion that the overall tactical situation in the southern Caribbean does not merit the presence of a ship of the line in Bridgetown, nor a rear-admiral to command the post." "Selkirk?" "Most likely. Wait, it gets better. I am also advised that I am not to consider my current appointment as, I quote, 'pleasure cruise', and that the presence of our wives on board a man o' war is considered an inappropriate distraction from our duties. We are instructed to have our wives return by post packet or in a merchantman!" "When are we to weigh anchor?" "Upon receipt of the orders. What outrage! I shall have some choice words with Mr. Selkirk, before this year's over!" "Sir Pierce, we have just unloaded most of the provisions from the hold, for a sulphur treatment of the bilge. It'll be two days before we can make sail." Sir Pierce smiled tightly. "That cannot be helped then. The bilge cleaning was due, especially in this climate. Complete the cleaning. We'll sail when you are done." He smiled. "That'll give us time for arrangements. Now, how can we find transportation for our wives?" Tony contemplated the problem. The regular packet was not due for another two months, and he did not know even that for sure. On the other hand, there was a brig in the harbour, bound for Kingston, and almost ready to sail. "That merchant brig yonder, Sir Pierce, she's bound for Kingston. In Kingston, my partner, Mr. Whitney, will find secure transport for them, I'm sure." "That's an option. How about our prize, though? She's not Navy, not yet. We'll bring her into Dublin, for adjudication. The aftercabin could be fitted for the women." On their last cruise, they had captured a Spanish brigantine, a slaver. She was a fast ship, but they could not sell her in Bridgetown which had no prize court. "Sir Pierce, that's violating the spirit of the orders, if not their letters. Besides, that aftercabin will be uncomfortable for three women and two infants, plus their servants." "It might be a tight fit," Fallon conceded. "Damnit, Carter, I'll chance it. What can they do to me? If they put me on shore, I'll just enjoy my life on half-pay. I'll not let my wife lag behind for months because that windbag, Selkirk, is making ugly noises." "We had better put a reliable prize crew in her, then," Tony mused. "A lieutenant, two master's mates and twenty hands?" "That sounds good to me. Let's put things in flow, Carter. Inquire about that merchantman bound for Kingston. I'll inform His Excellency." While Sir Pierce had his boat row him ashore, Tony quickly scanned over his own mail. There was no official mail, but one letter that stuck out. Tony recognised his father in law's handwriting on the envelope. He quickly tore it open. 'My Dear Anthony, ' he read. 'I am sending you this letter to apprise you of the situation you find yourself in. A certain Brig. Selkirk raised a complaint with their Lordships about Pierce Fallon, claiming that he had withheld official dispatches from the acting governor. At first, their Lordships laughed it off. However, that fellow is well connected with the sugar planter faction in Parliament, and before anybody knew it, there was a motion up for vote, to relieve Fallon of his command. It even called for a reprimand against you. 'Grenville remained steadfast, stating that he would not relieve an admiral without hearing him on the matter, and based on the complaint of a mere lieutenant colonel, as he said. They reached a compromise whereby the Asia will be recalled and stationed on the Irish coast, and Pierce Fallon will get a chance to refute the accusations. 'One charge we could not squash was the complaint about Harriet and Amanda Fallon travelling in the Asia. You and Pierce Fallon will have to reimburse the Navy Board for the passage. It is a ridiculous matter, but annoying, to be sure. You will be satisfied to hear that I could arrange with Mr. Whitney's representative in London to have a stout brig, the John Carter of all ships, sail for Barbados with goods. She should arrive shortly after the Navy brig bearing this letter and should convey your wives safely back to London. 'I was very pleased to hear on that occasion that Whitney & Cie had an excellent year and I took the opportunity to invest some of my own earnings in that fast-growing enterprise. 'My dear wife sends her fondest regards, both to you and to Harriet, and she - as I do - consoles herself with the knowledge that she will soon have her daughter back in London. Andrew has taken the Medusa to the Mediterranean where she will join Collingwood's fleet. He is excited to get away from the Channel Fleet, but I fear it will be the same blockade duty that awaits him. 'I sincerely hope that my letter gave you some much-needed information, as well as the knowledge that Harriet and little Richard will find a safe passage home. 'Your friend and father, 'Richard Lambert.' Now that was a ray of light in the dark! Tony thanked the gods for a well-connected father in law. The fact that Harriet and her friends would sail home in a ship that bore his own father's name was an added boon, taking away from the ignominy of being recalled. With an added spring in his step, Tony left his cabin. On the quarterdeck, he gave orders to speed up the bilge cleaning. He informed Mr. Dougherty and the purser of the new orders. Literally at the last minute, he called for Dr. Wilkes, to give him notice of the changes. Dr. Wilkes was disappointed. He had hoped to collect specimen during the spring time, and now they would sail for Ireland, of all places. He agreed to come ashore with Tony, to inform their wives. Harriet took the news with all the equanimity of a true sailor's wife. "I had better start packing, it seems," she stated, giving her husband a wink. "It would seem that I will be able to resume my efforts on behalf of the anti-slavery movement. After all, what better way is there to repay the planters for their courtesy?" "And I shall have my regular coxswain back," Tony agreed with a grin. "We can even arrange for you to find accommodation in Dublin, and no harm will be done." Harriet nodded. "I like your way of thinking," Harriet smiled. "We refuse to let that sorry man, Selkirk, mar our happiness. If it is to be in Dublin, we shall find happiness there." Tony returned to the Asia after their noon meal, feeling encouraged. He realised once again that he was truly blessed with Harriet. A lesser woman would have complained about having to move, losing her new friends, or having to set up a new household in another City. Not Harriet! She was made of sterner stuff, Tony decided with a proud smile. Sir Pierce did not return to the Asia all afternoon, and Tony visited him at his land quarters before dinner. He informed his admiral about the arrangements for the women's passage back to England, but to his utter surprise, he found Sir Pierce set against it. He insisted that his wife sailed in the prize, right beside his flagship, as he put it. He wanted to trick Selkirk and his cronies, and there was no way to convince him otherwise. Shrugging inwardly, Tony oversaw the packing of his personal gear which he would take on board the Asia, while Harriet, with the help of Jenny, sorted her belongings and packed a sea chest each for herself, Jenny and little Richard. The wetnurse, Ellie, was horror-struck over having to sail over the sea again. She had been brought to Barbados from the West-African coast just five years ago, and she was afraid of being chained on deck again. It took Harriet and Jenny an hour to allay the fears of the terrified young woman. When, on the next morning, the stout brig John Carter put into Bridgetown harbour, flying the pennant of Whitney & Cie, Tony attempted once more to convince his admiral of the comforts offered in the merchant man. Since her captain, Mr. Arthur Whitney, a nephew of James Whitney, assured them that he could sail within two days, they could even cite the necessity to escort a merchant vessel and have her sail with them. Nevertheless, Pierce Fallon remained adamant. His wife would sail in his prize, and that was it. There was nothing Tony could do, and he devoted himself to the dual tasks to ready his ship for sea and to arrange for Harriet and her friends' accommodation on board the John Carter. Tony lent a work party to Captain Whitney, to help with the unloading of the goods in her hold, mostly manufacturing goods that were hard to come by in the West Indies. The resident merchants were more than eager to bid for the cargo, and the John Carter was indeed ready to sail two days later. It was January 12, 1807, when HMS Asia weighed anchor, accompanied by the Spanish prize Santa Trinidad and the John Carter. The three ships rounded the island of Barbados and then followed a northern course, on a very long, close-hauled tack against the North-Easterly trade winds. It took them fifteen days to reach 25° northern latitude, past the Tropic of Cancer, where they finally caught the westerlies. All was well on the three ships, and Tony could see Harriet and little Richard every morning when they took air on the deck. Harriet would wave and Tony would wave back, much to the amusement of the men on deck. The Santa Trinidad proved herself to be an exceptional vessel which out-sailed both other ships handily. Lt. Harding, the prize master, took obvious delight to sail her close to the wind, so much, that Tony had seen fit to admonish him repeatedly. Two days after they changed course, they could see storm clouds coming up from abaft. This was not the storm season, and the weather glass did not drop very much. Nevertheless, when the front drew closer, Tony had the sails shortened. He also signalled for the other two ships to prepare and to draw closer. The wind came in gusts now, and the waves were showing foam crests. He consulted with Sir Pierce, and together, they decided to heave-to, to ride out the weather. There was no reason to risk the rigging in a foolish attempt to weather the storm with the wind abaft. The signals flew up the halliards while the Asia turned ponderously to face the increasing gusts head-on. Two cable lengths to port, the John Carter followed suit, showing her good manoeuvrability. However, the Santa Trinidad stayed her course, obviously having missed the signal. Angrily, Tony ordered a gun cleared to fire a shot, but it took time to get the gun ready, and when the shot rang out, the Santa Trinidad had obviously realised their mistake and she began to turn. Just then, the first squall hit the Asia with heavy rain and ripping gusts of wind, and for a full five minutes, they could hardly see their own foremast. When the squall finally passed, Tony saw the John Carter through the falling rain, just where she had stood before, and he shifted his gaze to where he expected the Santa Trinidad to emerge from the moving wall of water. The squall cleared away, but still, Tony could not see the prize. The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as he waited another minute without seeing the brigantine. "All hands! All hands to change course!" he called and the men poured out of the hastily opened hatches and into the rigging. Tony did not dare to look at his admiral as the Asia turned and her reefed topsails filled with the still gusty wind. From the corner of his eyes he saw the John Carter follow his example, but he concentrated on sailing his ship to where he had last seen the prize. Finally, he spared a look at Pierce Fallon. The man stood there, pale as a ghost, his hand cramped around the taffrail. "There's something ahead, Sir!" the lookout cried from above. "Lord 'a' mercy! It's a ship's bottom!" Tony had jumped into the rigging to peer ahead, and he saw what the lookout had seen. In between the choppy waves, like a huge whale, bobbed a capsized ship. The squall must have caught the prize crew unprepared, or perhaps Harding had been too slow. Anyway, there she drifted, her keel still well above the waves. "Heave-to!" Tony roared. "Ready the boats! Hurry, you men!" The Asia had turned into the wind and drifted slowly closer to the wreck. Already, the longboat was lifted off the hocks and swung to the port side. The boat crew tumbled down the side and set to the dangerous undertaking to row an open boat through the choppy waves. Another crew readied the cutter, while Mr. Dougherty had already posted men on the larboard side with lines ready for throwing. The longboat was closing in on the wreck now, and Tony could see bubbles of air coming from the doomed ship. He hoped against hope that Amanda Fallon had managed to survive with her little boy until they were able to pry open the cabin windows, but he already knew that their efforts would be fruitless. The cabin was well under the water level, and even if there were pockets of air, those would disappear quickly. A loud report shocked them, and debris flew into the air from the wreck. The compressed air had finally found its way out, tearing a hole into the ship's bottom. A groan went through the men on deck as they watched the doomed ship sink amidst the wildly boiling water. Then she was gone. Tony closed his eyes for a moment, feeling helpless agony. He turned to face Sir Pierce who stood there, still motionless and with an ashen face, his lips trembling. "She's sunk, Sir. I ... My deepest sympathy, Sir Pierce." There was nothing else to say, nothing that would change things. Slowly, Sir Pierce Fallon came to. He looked at Tony with eyes that had lost all life. "Kindly stay hove to, Captain. My barge, if you please. I'll be a minute." His voice was a hoarse whisper. With that, he disappeared into the after cabin, leaving the men on deck in their own, deep shock. The boats were returning and hooking to the chains, when suddenly, the silence on deck was torn by a shot. Lt. Porter was the first to run aft, but Tony was on his heels. In Fallon's cabin, they found the admiral sunk back in his desk chair, blood running from his mouth. "Oh, my goodness!" Porter exclaimed, rushing to Fallon's side. Toni stayed at the door, blocking the entrance for the other officers who crowded behind him. It was quite obvious that Fallon was dead. He saw a freshly scribbled note on the desk and went to look at it. 'My dear Sir Anthony, 'please have me buried right here over my poor Amanda and our child's last resting place. My agent in London will know what to do with my possessions. If you ever meet Selkirk, tell him from me to burn in hell. 'P.F.' Tony finished reading and handed the note to Lt. Porter who made a face. "If you deliver that message, Selkirk will demand satisfaction, Sir Anthony. He's a renowned swordsman. I heard he keeps a number of slaves just for practising, and he goes through two or three of them each year." "I shall keep that in mind," Tony answered calmly. "Mr. Dougherty, we stay hove-to. We shall have a burial within thirty minutes. Kindly have the sailmaker alerted and tell the chaplain about the plans." Within a few minutes, the sailmaker and his mates were busy, sewing a hammock shut around Sir Pierce' body. Once they lifted him from his chair, they saw that the back of his head was missing, and the stewards were working with rags and seawater to wash blood and bone matter from the bulkhead behind Sir Pierce' chair. Twenty-four pounder shots were sewn into the hammock, and then the body was carried to the quarter deck where the chaplain was already going over his prayer book. "All hands aft! All hands to witness a burial!" The calls of the boatswains roused the crew, and they stood in divisions, facing the quarter deck. Tony looked the men over and took a deep breath before he started. "You men! Our good Admiral, Sir Pierce Fallon, had a fatal accident when he cleaned his pistol. We also lost Lt. Halliwell, masters mates Stone and Beckwith, and twelve stout sailors when the prize capsized. On board the prize were also Lady Fallon and her infant son, innocent victims of a cruel fate. "The life of a sailor is rife with dangers, and we face perils and death daily in the execution of our duties. Still, when we lose shipmates, we stop our toils for a few moments, to pay our respects to those who died for King and Country and to pray for the Almighty to receive their souls with Mercy and Forgiveness. Reverent Benson, you may proceed." The chaplain stepped up and began the burial service while the officers and men on deck bared their heads. The chaplain named Sir Pierce, his wife and son, and every officer and man once more, and he spoke the burial rites for them. Then, the grating with Sir Pierce' body was lifted up, the foot end resting on the bulwark. "And thus we commend your body to the salty depth where your mortal body may rest in peace for ever!" The grating was lifted up, and Sir Pierce' body slid over the side, impacting on the water with a loud splash and sinking immediately. At the same moment, the first of the nine salute guns was fired, and the thunder of the guns rolled over the water. "Hats on!" Mr. Dougherty commanded, before turning to Tony. "Your orders, Sir Anthony?" "Stay hove-to. My gig, if you please, Mr. Dougherty." Without bothering to change his rain-soaked clothes, Tony had himself rowed to the John Carter in his gig. He saw Harriet on deck, her magnificent hair covered in a black veil, and he had barely entered through the port, when she was in his arms, sobbing her heart out. Lucy was bravely fighting her tears; she, too, had her hair covered in black. "The poor Amanda!" Harriet cried. "She was so afraid of the sea, and she had no chance! And little Orrin! He was but five months old!" Tony let her cry, holding her to the curious looks of the ship's company. Finally, Harriet controlled herself. "Oh, Tony. How is Sir Pierce?" "Harriet, my dear, Sir Pierce had an accident. He was evidently handling his pistol carelessly in his grief when it went off, killing him instantaneously. We put him to rest over his family's grave." "Pierce Fallon, too?" Suddenly, Harriet's eyes turned dark. "That pompous, cowardly man, Selkirk! Their death was his doing." "Harriet, he could not have planned that." "Still, but for his scheming, poor Amanda would be in Bridgetown and in safety." Tony nodded. "That is true, and I imagine, I shall have words with him should I ever see him." "What will we do now?" "I'll sail the Asia to London. Whatever orders Sir Pierce had, he is dead, and the Asia is not his flagship anymore. Harriet, I need to return. You must be brave. Give Richard a kiss from me." "Thank you for coming over and for comforting me. You are a wonderful husband." They parted, and after informing Captain Whitney of the changed plans, Tony climbed into his gig and returned to the Asia. Within a few moments, the two ships went before the now abating wind again and left the site of the tragedy behind. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 3: A Handsome Apology Captain Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., sat stoically while Mr. Marsden, Secretary to their Lordships, read the report he had handed in. Mr. Marsden tried to emulate his mentor, Edward Nepean, in every way, even by re-reading the report after finishing it for the first time. Finally, he laid the papers aside and peered at Tony over his half-glasses. "This is a most unfortunate affair, and I shall have to inform Lord Mulgrave of it. He will be distraught, no doubt. It is most irritating that we lost an able officer due to the meddling of Parliament. You were right to put into London. We must find a replacement for poor Sir Pierce before you can take your station in the Irish Sea." "May I assume, Sir, that we shall still be based in Dublin?" "Most likely, yes. I shall put the matter before His Lordship. Oh, that reminds me. You lost an officer, too?" "Lt. Halliwell, Sir. He was lost in the prize." "I shall send a replacement for him, a Lt. O'Shaunessy. We had to relieve him from his last posting." "May I ask the reason, Sir?" "Tensions in the wardroom, between our Mr. O'Shaunessy and two other lieutenants. The captain asked to separate the fighting cocks. He appears to be able and loyal otherwise. Three years seniority." "Very well, Sir." "He'll be happy to serve in the Asia as he hails from Ireland. Now, kindly repair to your ship and wait for orders. She shouldn't be in need of repairs, should she?" "No, Sir. I'll have need for fresh water and the usual provisions, but else, she's in excellent shape." Before Tony left the Admiralty, he spent a few minutes studying the Captains' List. He had been holding Captain's rank for well over five years, and senior captains were either promoted, retired from active service, or died from any of the numerous perils they faced. There were now over one-hundred captains on the list who were junior to him. The list also determined when he could expect promotion to flag rank. He had to climb the top of the list. Only the most senior captains were promoted to rear admiral, and he was still far from being a senior captain. Still, in a year or so, he should enter the upper half of the list. Leaving the the Admiralty, Tony found a one-horse cab which transported him to Lambert House on Cavendish Square. As expected, Harriet was there. Her own town house that she had inherited from her first husband was rented to the American envoy, since they had not expected to return to London before 1809. As things were, they might not need the house anyway. The rental income would easily pay for a rented home in Dublin, close to Tony's future base of operation. Eleanor Lambert greeted her son in law with a heartfelt hug. "Anthony, how good to see you return in good health. Harriet already told me of the terrible tragedy. What did Marsden say?" Tony shrugged. "He was dismayed, of course, and he blamed the meddling of Parliament. They will find a replacement for Sir Pierce, and Asia will still be posted in the Irish Sea." "Dublin as home port. There are worse postings, I fancy," Lady Lambert mused. "So true, Mother." The address had come naturally after his wedding to Harriet, and Eleanor Lambert accepted it with no little pride. "I do have a distant cousin in Dublin whom I visited, I believe in '02. It is an impressive city. I take it, Harriet will want to follow you." "I certainly hope so. I imagine there will be time spent in port from time to time." "I certainly share that hope," Eleanor Lambert laughed. "Richard will speak with Mulgrave, to guard your interest. As you may imagine, a new squadron commander may insist on bringing his own flag captain. Richard will try to make sure it is somebody who will accept you." This caused a smile in Tony. Having a full Admiral for a father certainly would certainly help his career. So far, he had earned his way up by dedicated service, bravery, and sheer luck. Tony was with Harriet at the Lamberts' home when Sir Richard returned for the noon meal, three days later. During the first course, Sir Richard relayed the news he had. "I spoke Mulgrave. He's still under pressure from the planter faction. One would think that with poor Pierce Fallon and his family dead, they'd give it a rest. But no, that Selkirk fellow incited them, and they are still out for blood. They claim that you are too junior to be a flag captain." Tony felt anger wash over him. "Cannot they give it a rest? One would think this stupid affair has been costly enough." "My dear Anthony, you are right, and I must warn you of Selkirk. He is both a crack shot and an expert swordsman. There is nothing to be gained by an altercation." "Yet, you will not expect me to suffer his plotting against me?" "Why do you think he is doing it? He is spoiling for duels, against Pierce and against you. With Pierce dead, you are his only target." "I shall take this into account. You may recall though that I am somewhat of a swordsman myself." "Anthony, I know that, and I believe you to be equal to Selkirk. I ask you for caution because I don't want my daughter to lose you." "Father, I shall support Tony when he seeks out that man," Harriet threw in heatedly. "Selkirk is an abominable person and he is responsible for the Fallons' death." Tony put a calming hand on Harriet's arm. "Let's stay calm, my dear. Selkirk may yet come to the realisation of what his scheming precipitated." Sir Richard sighed. "To continue my reporting, Mulgrave has come to a decision, a decision I very much favour. You remember Edward Fanning?" "How could I not," Tony answered. Fanning had been his first captain, in the Medusa. "Fanning is near the top of the captain's list, and he'll have his flag in less than a year. He's currently without ship. Mulgrave will put him in command of the squadron as a commodore of the first class. Once his flag arrives, he'll continue in his command as rear admiral." "Is Captain Fanning in agreement?" "You must be jesting, Anthony," Sir Richard laughed. "To have an independent command a year early is quite a boon. He told me he's looking forward to having you for his captain. You must realise that the achievements of his former subordinates reflect favourably on a senior officer." "I can certainly do worse than with Captain Fanning." "Officially, the squadron is attached to the Channel Fleet, but Fanning will operate independently. It's his prerogative to pick his captain, and those sugar barons can go to hell." "I never learned the strength of the squadron," Tony threw in. "It's Asia, frigates Mersey, 36, and Ulysses, 32, a flush-decked sloop, Clotho, 22, and two armed cutters. Quite adequate, all in all." "It certainly looks that way," Tony agreed. ------- In the afternoon, Tony found Pierce Fallon's solicitor and agent and arranged for the admiral's gear to be brought ashore. There was a younger sister who would inherit Fallon's earthly possessions. Tony found out that woman's name and address and set out to pay a condolence visit. The house, once the driver found it, was in a good part of the City but small and older, yet well maintained. Upon his knocking, a neatly dressed woman opened, wearing a widow's garb. "Mrs. Uxbridge?" Tony asked, for that was the name of Sir Pierce' widowed sister. "I am Mrs. Uxbridge," the woman answered. "I am Captain Sir Anthony Carter, Madam, your brother's flag captain. I came to offer my sympathy." "That is very kind of you, Sir Anthony. It is a terrible tragedy that befell our family, and I can still barely cope with it." "Is there anything I can do for you, Madam, to assist you?" The woman looked at him. "There is, if you won't mind. My brother promised me to take my son into the service, upon his return from Barbados. Would you have the kindness of heart to fulfil my brother's promise?" "How old is the boy, Madam? What schooling did he receive?" "He's fifteen, Sir Anthony, and he attends St. Andrew's Latin School. He's tall for his age and strong; a bit mischievous, too, at times." "I'd have to see the lad, Madam. Perhaps you can send him aboard the Asia, tomorrow at four bells in the afternoon watch?" Seeing the woman's lack of understanding, he added, "Two o' clock, Madam." "I shall see to it, Sir Anthony. Thank you. George always wanted to follow his father and his uncle, but without the right patronage..." "I shall see him and give you my decision, Madam. Perhaps Mr. Hutchinson can give you an advance on your inheritance, to fit out your son. We may sail within a week." "If you accept him in your ship, I shall see to it, Sir Anthony." "Madam, I shall leave you to your mourning now. If there is anything you may need, I am staying with Sir Richard Lambert, in Cavendish Square, while I am in London." "Thank you, Sir Anthony, for taking the time for this visit. My brother spoke highly of you, and I see now that he was right." The next evening, Captain James Fanning came to dinner at Lambert House. He knew his old Commander in Chief, of course, as well as Lady Lambert. He also remembered Harriet from her time in Kingston. He greeted Tony last, but with obvious pride. "You have done well since those days in the Medusa. Not that I didn't expect it, but it makes me proud nonetheless to have started you on the right path." "You certainly did, Sir," Tony responded. "Your guidance and example were decisive for my career, much like Sir Richard's unwavering friendship." "Well, I am gladdened to have you for my captain. May I introduce my dear wife Kateline." Anthony and his father in law bowed to Mrs. Fanning Mrs. Fanning was younger than her husband and she spoke English with a peculiar accent. As it turned out, she was Dutch by birth, and Captain Fanning had met her during a visit to Amsterdam in the brief peace of 1801/02. She was a distant cousin of the hereditary stewards or stadhouders of the Dutch Republic, and as such violently opposed to the French occupation of the Netherlands. She had a pretty face, blonde hair, and the most impressive bust Tony had ever seen, even counting the infamous Mrs. Pendrake. He could not help envisioning his Commodore, resting his head between those magnificent pillows. She was in most every respect the physical opposite of her husband. She was lively, too, and soon engaged in an animated discussion of life in Dublin with both Harriet and Eleanor Lambert. Meanwhile, the men discussed the tasks ahead. Fanning had already received a briefing at the Admiralty, and he related some of the general orders. The squadron would patrol the Irish Sea, from Ballycastle in the North, to Rosslare, in the South, protecting British shipping against French privateers and preventing enemy infiltration on the Irish, Welsh and Scottish coasts. The squadron was certainly not too big for this task. Fanning already planned to use the two frigates to close off the St. George's Channel in the South and the North Channel. That left the sloop, Clotho, and the armed cutters to make inshore inspections, while Asia would be posted west of the Isle of Man, ready to assist any ship of the squadron. "It's a colossal nonsense, to use an 80-gun ship to patrol a narrows," Fanning opined at one point. "But if this is their Lordships' wish, we'll sail her back and forth like a bloody ferry boat." Next, Tony and Captain Fanning discussed the accommodations. Tony explained the arrangements made with Sir Pierce, and Captain Fanning expressed his interest. They agreed that Captain Fanning would visit the Asia on the next morning to view the arrangements. When the evening ended and the visitors had bade their farewell, Tony and Harriet had a positive view of the immediate future. They briefly inspected the nursery before they went to sleep, but little Richard was sleeping soundly, and Ellie, the nurse, snored softly in her cot. Emily was sleeping, too, breathing heavily. It could not be expected for a little girl to move from Jamaica to England without catching head colds, and Emily had been snivelling all day. Jenny awoke when the light from the hallway shone into their bedchamber, and she gave a whispered report of Emily's cold. Harriet slept into the morning, but Tony was up early, to return to his ship. Asia would receive pork barrels that day, and other provisions, like split peas, ship's biscuit, and cheese. Mr. Cleve, the purser, was in his element, running to and fro, and annoying the warrant officers greatly. Young George Uxbridge came aboard, and Tony took the time to question the lad. It turned out that he had been schooled with a Navy career in mind, and he knew enough geometry already. Latin would be of little use, but he had some French, too. Tony called for the sailing master and gave instructions to enlist George Uxbridge as a volunteer, to fill the next vacant midshipman position. Captain Fanning sent a signal from shore at 2 bells in the forenoon watch, and Tony had the crew of the admiral's barge pick him up. On the return trip, the coxswain held up six fingers when the boat was hailed, and Tony ordered six bosun's mates to line the port with their pipes as Commodore James Fanning came aboard. "Received my orders this morning," he mumbled under his breath, only for Tony to hear. Hastily, Tony gave orders for the salute guns to be readied and the crew to assemble on deck in divisions. When Commodore Fanning read out the orders that instated him as squadron commodore, a six gun salute rolled over the Pool of London while the new broad pennant rose to the masthead. The boatswain orchestrated three credible hoorays, and that ended the short ceremony. Tony affected the introductions with the wardroom members who, to this point, had not been privy to the plans, and Commodore Fanning expressed his hope to get better acquainted with them soon. Tony then proceeded to show his commodore the spacious after cabin. Fanning took a look at the arrangement and declared that he liked the idea of a large common room. Of course, Tony remembered how Fanning, as captain of the Medusa, had often invited the junior officers for dinner, to deepen their education, and he could see how the current arrangement would fit this custom. Tony shook himself from the reverie as Fanning looked at him wit a bemused smile. "You remember the dinner evenings in the Medusa, don't you?" The question was informal, and Tony answered in the same vein. "I certainly do, Sir. Those were fabulous years." "My glory years," Fanning sighed. "Once I had that damned 74, the fun was over. Do you miss the Medusa?" "A little, Sir. To be honest, the Clyde was my true love." "I've seen her once. She is a beauty. Well, this one is not bad either, and by God, I'll have you sail her like a frigate!" "I had better not. Collingwood and Rotheram gave me an earful when I sailed Agamemnon like a frigate. Nearly wrecked her, too." "That must have been something, to sail the Sovereign into the Spanish and French line." "Not much sailing involved, Sir," Tony smirked. "The Frogs helped us to concentrate on gunnery by shooting away masts and rigging." Fanning grinned. "Awfully considerate of them, to aim high all the time. I find that I like that in them. Well, I'll have my gear and furniture brought aboard this afternoon. What do you think? Our wives had a good start, hadn't they?" "I can only relay that my wife was delighted meeting Mrs. Fanning, Sir." Fanning shook his head. "I still cannot believe that you were able to hook your grapnels into Harriet Lambert! Almost every officer and many a wealthy plantation owner was after her, back then, in Kingston. It was almost a shock to hear that she married that buffoon, Palmer. Oh, you did not befriend him, did you?" "Most certainly not, Sir. A despicable man, by all accounts." "Well, she certainly found her happiness now," Fanning said cautiously, sensing that there was more behind Tony's words. "Her father always thought highly of you." Tony looked at Fanning frankly. "He is one of three people I owe my career to." Fanning actually beamed, but the he raised his eyebrow. "Who, pray, is the third?" "My wife, of course. I strove for success just to be eligible for her." Fanning sighed. "Wish we had more women like her and her mother. They certainly bring out the best in their husbands." They left it at that and shifted their attention to the Asia and her crew. Fanning wanted to know about her sailing master. Tony admitted that Mr. Copper had been appointed mostly due to his expert knowledge of the Southern Caribbean. "Would you agree to ask the Admiralty for a replacement? The Irish Sea is a tricky water, and we will have to operate inshore, to hunt down suspect coastal shipping. I would like to have a sailing master who knows those coastlines." "We can certainly try. I will explain this to Mr. Copper. He's a good officer, but it's true, we need a good pilot." "Another thing. I want a pair of long twelve-pounders as bow chasers on the fo'csle. We out-gun almost every other third-rate. We can afford to sacrifice two fo'csle carronades for bow chasers." "I can run it by the arsenal, Sir. I would prefer long nines, though." "Of course. They'll be more accurate." "I'll instruct Mr. Dougherty, Sir. Is there anything else?" "No, nothing I can think of. I'll leave you to your duties then." "Thank you, Sir," Tony answered before he left his commodore. Outside, he met Mr. Dougherty. "Sir, Lt. O'Shaunessy reported on board. I thought it better not to interrupt your discussions with the Commodore..." "Thank you, Mr. Dougherty. I can see him now. Send him to my cabin." Tony was at his desk when the marine sentry announced Lt. O'Shaunessy. Tony saw a well built and good looking man of perhaps twenty-two years, with long, blonde hair not unlike his own, and dark blue eyes. He stood to receive his new lieutenant. "Lt. O'Shaunessy, Sir, reporting for duty," the man spoke with the barest hint of Irish brogue in his cultivated voice. He handed over his papers. "Welcome aboard, Mr. O'Shaunessy," Tony replied. "Please have a seat." O'Shaunessy sat while Tony looked over the man's patent and evaluations. He had received high praise by his former captain. It was all the more astonishing that he had been let go. "You served in the Nightingale ever since you passed examination for lieutenant?" "Yes, Sir Anthony." "Captain Ford speaks highly of you. Would you care to elaborate on the reasons why you left your ship." "Sir Anthony, the reasons are rather personal ... There was some incompatibility with other wardroom members." "All right, I won't pressure you. Do you have reason to believe that you will encounter similar incompatibilities in the future?" "I should hope, not, Sir Anthony." "Very well, Mr. O'Shaunessy. Your seniority places you as Nº4. You will be responsible for the lower deck larboard battery, under Mr. Galbreith. Acquaint yourself with your stations and your other duties. Mr. Dougherty will assign your watch duties. Are you familiar with the Irish Sea?" O'Shaunessy made a face. "Not very well, Sir Anthony. Nightingale served in the Mediterranean, under Lord Collingwood. I never did any duty around the British Isles." That was all too common, as Tony knew. He shrugged. "Never mind. It would have been a stroke of luck, but who can expect that in our service. That will be all, Mr. O'Shaunessy." "Aye-aye, Sir!" O'Shaunessy answered before he left the cabin, leaving Tony undecided whether he liked the man or not. He was interrupted in his thinking when he heard Commodore Fanning's voice from behind the bulkhead. "My compliments to Sir Anthony, and will he join me in my cabin." Smiling inwardly at the stupidity of Naval protocol, Tony had to wait for the message to be relayed before he responded to the request. "Sir?" "Oh, yes. Listen, Sir Anthony, I was thinking to invite the officers to dinner, say next Saturday. Do you think you might persuade Sir Richard and his wife to attend? My wife will be there, too, and it should lighten the atmosphere if ladies were in attendance. I was hoping for your wife, too, and possibly Mrs. Wilkes." "I cannot speak for Sir Richard, but I gladly accept on behalf of my wife and myself, Sir." "Would you be kind enough to relay the invitation to the wardroom? Say, two bells on the second dog watch?" "Certainly, Sir. Do you wish for the help of my steward and the wardroom steward?" "That would be helpful. Thank you, Sir Anthony, that would be all." "Aye-aye, Sir." Tony found Mr. Dougherty on the quarterdeck and relayed the invitation to him. He also sought Jonathan Wilkes to tell him of the dinner, so he could forewarn Lucy. Lastly, he instructed his steward, Giles, to assist the Commodore's steward. He was about to return to his cabin when a boat came alongside on the lee side. Curiosity made him stay and watch, and he was surprised to see the dark face of John Little appear. "Letter from the Harbour Admiral, Sir, for Sir Anthony," Little announced to the midshipman of the watch. The young boy stared at the tall African, not knowing what to do. "Oh, send the man over here, will you!" Tony finally exclaimed. John Little approached his old captain and saluted smartly. "Letter from Sir Richard, Sir Anthony!" "Stand easy, Mr. Little." Tony opened the envelope, to find only a short note. "I believe you'll want your coxswain back. I am sick of him running my life, so take him back and let him do something useful. R.L." Tony actually grinned as he regarded his long time confidante. "What does Inéz say to that?" "Inéz is a good woman, Sir Anthony. She knows where my place is, and she says she needs me gone so she can get more work done." Little smiled proudly when he said that. "I suppose you'll want your old duty back?" "Yes, Sir Anthony, that would be mighty nice." "All right. Mr. Dougherty, kindly read Mr. Little in. He's my personal coxswain." He turned to the midshipman. "Pass the word for my coxswain!" A minute later, Mr. Hall, the captain's coxswain stood before him. "Mr. Hall, I warned you before that your appointment was temporary in nature, until Mr. Little rejoined the crew?" Hall swallowed, but nodded. "Yes, Sir Anthony, you did." "Well, the time has come. I thank you for your good service. Have this Crown as token of my gratitude. Mr. Dougherty will find a new task for you." "Aye-aye, Sir," was all Hall could say in response. "Thank you, Sir Anthony." "Mr. Little, after Mr. Dougherty has read you in, will you acquaint yourself with the boat crew?" "Aye-aye, Sir Anthony!" Little beamed, standing tall and proud. Tony felt a lot better, all of a sudden. This elation lasted him through the dictation of a letter to the arsenal, asking for two nine-pounder brass guns. He would probably get bronze or even cast iron, but it was worth the try. Brass was superior to cast iron, plus, keeping the brass guns shiny was another punitive task for small infractions of the discipline. More reports and requests had to be dictated, and it was late afternoon before Tony finished the work. On the quarterdeck, he saw Lt. O'Shaunessy on duty as officer of the watch. He was supervising a work party in the waist, but he hurried aft when he saw Tony on deck. "Good afternoon, Sir Anthony." "Good Afternoon, Mr. O'Shaunessy. First dog-watch?" "Yes, Sir Anthony. I asked Mr. Dougherty for a chance to get acquainted with the ship." "Very well! Did you meet the other gentlemen?" "Yes, Sir Anthony. Except for Mr. Wilkes. He is ashore." "I know," Tony replied. Jonathan Wilkes was helping Lucy to settle in, and Tony had given him an afternoon of shore leave. "Kindly have my gig readied." "Aye-aye, Sir Anthony!" O'Shaunessy rapped and turned to the midshipman of the watch. "The Captain's gig!" Something had caused Tony discomfort for quite some time, but O'Shaunessy's overly courteous address brought it to the forefront. "Please send the word for Mr. Dougherty, too." Another runner was sent, and a minute later, Dougherty appeared. "Mr. Dougherty, please pass the word to the wardroom that I wish to be addressed as 'Sir' only, in all routine matters." "Aye-aye, Sir An ... Sir!" Clearly, Dougherty was non-plussed. "It's a waste of time in urgent situations," Tony elaborated. He turned to John Little. "That goes for you, too, Mr. Little." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Little grinned. "Your gig is ready, Sir." "I shall be back later tonight, Mr. Dougherty. Keep an eye on things." "Aye-aye, Sir." Commodore Fanning had been rowed to shore two hours earlier without much ado, and Tony settled in the stern of the gig, knowing that his day's work was done. Upon arrival at Lambert House, Tony had to change into his Nº2 uniform, for he and Harriet were invited to Sir Robert Norton's house, for a soiree. Sir Robert had heard of Tony's return, and he had sent a billet. After a brief deliberation, Tony donned sash and star of the Order of the Bath. Sir Robert's house was nothing but grand, reflecting the immense wealth of the owner. Nevertheless, Sir Robert was kindness incarnate when he welcomed Tony and Harriet. "Ah, the lovely Lady Carter," he exclaimed, turning to his wife. "Now at least we know why the Captain scorned our poor Gwendolyn." Lady Norton laughed at that, a little ruefully. Of course, Harriet knew of the little episode at the Drury Lane Theatre, and she smiled without concern. "I have met your daughter, Sir Robert, and she is most charming." "Yes, of course, you both know Miss Wilson, too. Charming young woman, really charming. Please, enjoy the evening." Tony nodded at that, and they proceeded into the large dinner hall. The room was fairly crowded already, and they did not see any familiar faces at first. Suddenly, Harriet tugged at Tony's sleeve urgently. "There's Selkirk," she hissed. "He's seen us. He's coming over!" Tony took a deep breath. There might be an altercation in the offing and he made an effort to appear calm and dignified. "Sir Anthony," Selkirk spoke, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "General Selkirk," Tony answered politely, but coolly. "Sir Anthony, I only heard the dreadful news yesterday. Words fail me to describe the agony I feel over my role in that disastrous development. Never did I aim to cause harm to Lady Fallon or her child, not even to Sir Pierce. The poor man! To see his family perish must have been beyond human endurance. I can only express my deepest regret over this entire affair." Tony took a deep breath. Selkirk was sincere, and he meant every word. Tony was well aware that the whole affair was as much Sir Pierce' fault as Selkirk's; they both had been pigheaded and set on their petty rivalry. Tony racked his brain for a fitting answer. "Your regret is noted and appreciated, General. It was an unfortunate and unnecessary altercation in the first place, and if anything, this affair teaches us to curb our pride for the benefit of our country, but also of our families. I shall convey your remorse to Sir Pierce' sister. She is his sole surviving relative and heiress, and I am sure that she will feel at least partly consoled. I hope we can put this unfortunate affair to rest." Selkirk bowed. "I must thank you, Sir Anthony, for your gracious and forgiving answer. Of course, I have already asked my friends in Parliament to abstain from any further activities that might incite tempers again. Again, my sincere sympathy and apologies." He bowed to Harriet. "Your servant, Lady Carter!" With that, he turned, and Tony could see him leave the room immediately. He turned to Harriet and saw that she was not happy. Far from that. She was staring at Tony with a look that bespoke incredulity and anger. Before he could ask her, though, another gentleman bowed to him. "I could not help to overhear your conversation, Sir Anthony. I wish to congratulate you on your gracious and gentlemanly reply to Brigadier Selkirk's apology. He is indeed devastated over the development." "Thank you, Sir. I believe we have not been introduced yet?" "No, indeed not, Sir. I am Major General Sir Arthur Wellesley, recently returned from India." "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Sir Arthur. May I introduce my wife, Lady Carter?" "Enchanted, Madame," Wellesley replied. "I believe I met your mother, Lady Lambert, at a banquet in my brother's house." Harriet was not mollified, but she forced a friendly smile on her face for a moment. "I suppose it was the Marquess Wellesley's house where you met her?" Sir Arthur nodded. "She spoke of the invitation, but then again, there was so much she had to recount that I cannot remember everything. I am pleased to make your personal acquaintance, Sir Arthur." Tony had made the connection, too. Richard The Marquess Wellesley had been the Governor General of India, and his younger brother, Sir Arthur Wellesley, had commanded the British troops against the Mahrats and other Indian potentates. As a matter of fact, the younger Wellesley was said to be the most promising British soldier of their time. "I have heard of your exploits in India, Sir Arthur. They do you great credit." "You are too kind, Sir Anthony. I had a chance meeting with the late Lord Nelson, shortly before he sailed for Spain. I believe you served under him at Trafalgar?" "Yes, indeed. I served as supernumerary captain in the Royal Sovereign, under Lord Collingwood." "You must be proud of your part in that epic battle. What is your current assignment, if I may ask?" "My ship was selected to serve as Commodore Fanning's flagship. We shall be stationed in Dublin, to patrol and secure the Irish Sea." "Ah Dublin! I was born in Dublin. You will like it." "I hope to have opportunity to spend time ashore, but in our service, I will not wager on it," Tony answered, smiling ruefully. "So true, Captain. It was a pleasure meeting you. Please, Lady Carter, convey my respects to your mother." "Thank you, Sir Arthur. You are very kind," Harriet answered nicely. "A fine man," Tony observed after Wellesley had left them. "Humph! What just happened?" "Pardon me?" Tony asked, nonplussed. "Selkirk! He was here, and what did you do? Nothing!" So that was what bothered Harriet. "He was very honest in his remorse," Tony answered lowering his voice. "We must put a stop to this affair. I don't like Selkirk either, but he delivered a handsome apology. How could I not to accept it without looking vindictive?" "Tony, Amanda Fallon was my friend!" Harriet protested. "To think how miserably she drowned makes me..." "Harriet, she died because Pierce Fallon made her travel in the prize. There was room enough in the John Carter, but Sir Pierce wouldn't hear of it. He wanted to thumb his nose at Selkirk. It is true that Selkirk made us return from Barbados, but you cannot make him responsible for the loss of the Santa Trinidad." "Would you think the same if it had been me who drowned?" Harriet hissed sharply. "Would you have answered Selkirk the same? Would you have accepted his 'handsome apology'? I cannot believe your obsequious conduct!" Tony steered his wife into an adjacent room where they could talk more freely. "Harriet, what is it you expect of me? Should I find Selkirk and challenge him? Will a dead Selkirk bring Amanda Fallon back to life?" "No, of course not! Will Selkirk go Scot-free, though? I made it known already that you would seek him out and make him responsible. Now I look like a fool!" "Harriet, you made it known? To whom? How on earth could you be so assuming?" "You said yourself that you'd want a word with him. Did you turn into a spit-licker because you learned of his sword skills?" The vituperative question made the blood rush into Tony's face. "Harriet, you are forgetting yourself. Selkirk offered a full apology for his actions. How can I claim to be insulted? What cause can I give?" "Well, give him cause! Give him your opinion! What is so difficult about that?" "For once, I want this childish confrontation to end," Tony replied heatedly. "Secondly, I don't want a reputation as duellist. Such behaviour is frowned upon." "Oh, spare me that!" Harriet spat. "You're always so concerned about opinions. Cannot you shake off the urge to please everybody? I know you are an upstart, but must you show it constantly?" Tony felt the blood leave his face. "Well, I am an upstart," he answered hotly. "Did Rupert Palmer suit your ideals better?" Now it was Harriet's turn to stagger back, but before she could formulate a fitting response, Tony had regained his composure. "Harriet, this is no way for a married couple to talk. I shouldn't have said what I said, and I believe that once you reflect on your words, you will see how insulting they were." With an obvious effort, Harriet controlled herself and nodded. Her look told Tony, however, that she did not consider the affair settled. They left the soiree not long after, with Harriet claiming an indisposition. They returned to Cavendish Square in silence, and even after going up to their bedroom, they did not speak to each other. For the first time, they lay in bed without touching each other, and Harriet demonstratively turned her back to Tony. Harriet maintained her stance during the next day. Since Tony was angry at her himself, he made no effort at placating her. He spent the day on board the Asia, going through the motions while his mind was occupied. Harriet's parents could sense the rift during dinner when Harriet spoke to every person at the table, save for her husband. Only once did she give him a scornful look. After sitting through dinner like that, Tony stood up and looked at Harriet. "I shall shift my dunnage back to the Asia tonight. Tomorrow, I can sit with your father to arrange for your needs during my posting to Dublin." Harriet glared at him. "You abandon me, just like that?" "Don't be ridiculous. I am returning to my ship and my duty. There is just no benefit to my staying with you if you maintain your current attitude. Once you feel ready to speak to me again, send me a note." "Harriet, Tony, what on earth is going on?" Eleanor Lambert asked into the ensuing silence. "Your daughter finds me obsequious, cowardly, and yes, an upstart. Let her explain. The upstart is leaving." Eleanor Lambert raised her eyebrows at her daughter, but Tony left the dinner hall before Harriet said anything. Fortunately, John Little was still there, and Tony gave him orders to call for the gig. One of the Lamberts' menservants helped Tony pack his sea chest, and he left the house not a half hour later. There was an excited whisper among the watch when they saw their captain settle in his cabin for the night, but Tony was able to maintain a facade of indifference. Inwardly, he still had difficulties coming to grasp with that new side of Harriet. He knew that she was temperamental, but she had gone too far. Anger ruled supreme in him, blocking out any other emotion. He woke to the change of the watch and shaved before he came on deck. It was a good thing he was there, because a number of decisions had to be made and orders had to be given. He sat down for breakfast two hours later, and he had not even emptied his first cup of coffee when the midshipman of the watch knocked. "Sir Anthony, there's a boat with officers coming. Army, Sir." Tony shrugged and stood, emptying his cup. When he arrived on deck, the boat had hooked already, and a slightly portly officer climbed up the Jacob's ladder, followed by a younger man in civilian clothes. They looked about helplessly for a moment before they seemed to recognise Tony's captain's uniform. "Sir Anthony Carter?" the uniformed officer asked. "I am Sir Anthony Carter, Sir. With whom do I have the pleasure?" "Colonel Dunlop, Sir, at your service. This is Mr. Atwater. May we have a word with you in private?" Nonplussed, Tony led his visitors into the after cabin. "Sir Anthony, I come for my principal, General Selkirk. It would seem that Lady Carter has spread malicious rumours about my principal." Tony groaned inwardly. That was something he had not counted on. "This is new to me, Colonel, and I should certainly regret any such rumours if they indeed originate from my wife." "I am afraid the origin was attested to by several witnesses. Under the circumstances, General Selkirk feels compelled to restore his honour. He sent us to demand satisfaction, Sir Anthony. Will you kindly identify the gentlemen who will act for you?" "My First Lieutenant, Mr. Dougherty, will act for me," Tony replied automatically. He directed his voice at the sentry. "Pass the word for Mr. Dougherty!" A minute later, Lt. Dougherty appeared. "Mr. Dougherty, I am under challenge from General Selkirk. This is Colonel Dunlop. Will you kindly act for me? Perhaps Mr. Galbraith can also be troubled?" Dougherty had turned grave. "I shall act on your behalf, Sir Anthony. Colonel, would you kindly accompany me to the wardroom?" They left, and Tony sat down in his chair, feeling numb. Suddenly, he understood the scornful look Harriet had cast him. She had badmouthed Selkirk on purpose, to provoke the duel. Disappointment and anger swept over him. How could Harriet sacrifice their love and marriage over this pettiness? How could she use him in such a scheming way? All his adult life, he had coveted Harriet, had consumed himself with the wish to win her for his wife. The last year had indeed given so much promise of love and fulfilment, and now this! How could they ever reconcile after this? With sudden bitter humour, Tony admitted to himself that the question might not be answered ever. Selkirk would strive to make their rift permanent. Tony recalled the battle against the L'Alceste. Back then, when he feared to die, he felt an overwhelming regret that he would never see Harriet again. It was telling that in this equally threatening situation, he almost hoped to never see her again. When there was a knock on his cabin door, he willed away the emotions and forced his body to relax in his chair. "Yes, come in!" he called. Dougherty and Galbraith entered, looking grave. "Well, gentlemen, I trust you reached an agreement on the terms?" "It'll be the sword, Sir Anthony. Knowing how you are an expert swordsman, we agreed to the terms. We are to meet Selkirk's party at sunrise tomorrow on the little green behind the rope walk." Tony fought back the urge to swallow. "That appears to be an admirable set-up," he answered. "I must thank you gentlemen for your assistance. Will that be all?" "Yes, Sir Anthony. Only, if you wish to practice, the wardroom will be happy to provide you with partners." "Thank you for that consideration. We may indeed practice sword skills this morning. Would six bells suit the gentlemen? Splendid. I shall meet you on deck. Again, my thanks." When Dougherty and Galbraith had left. Tony let his assumed calmness slip off, and he made plans for the next morning. He recalled what he knew of Selkirk's fighting prowess. The man was skilled, no doubt, with a vast experience on the planche. Tony knew that with all his skill, he would not be a match to Selkirk. He would have to even out Selkirk's superior skills and experience. Tony himself was not a friend of the ritualised fencing as practised in gentlemen's clubs, and he had rarely fought on a regular planche. He always practised on his quarter deck, as this was where he would have to fight when repelling boarders. There was no rigidity to fencing on the deck, and no narrow planche to restrict the movements. Selkirk would be irritated if Tony would circle him, and he would celebrate fancy fighting, with feints and lunges. He would certainly not expect the dirty fencing of boarding fights, and that was where Tony saw his chances for survival. As he planned his style, he also planned how to practise with his officers, and when they met on deck at six bells, he went through five of his subordinates, doing exactly what he planned to do on the next morning. "Selkirk will not expect that, Sir Anthony," Dougherty panted after his turn. "His seconds may cry foul, but we did not settle on any club rules." "Let's hope it will suffice," Tony answered with a shrug. He had a light lunch, after which he sat down to update and amend his will. He also wrote a letter to his son which he planned to give his father in law in trust, to be handed to Richard upon his passing into adulthood. In it, he tried to give all the information and family history he knew of, providing his son with answers to the questions he would ask one day. It was a tasking effort, and it took him almost until dinner time. When he finished, he sealed the letter in a linen envelope and called for his gig. John Little was quiet during the short passage to the quay and Tony was grateful for his coxswain's tact. They took a rented cab to Cavendish Square. Arriving there, Tony was met by his father in law. "I heard of the challenge. Couldn't you let it pass, Anthony?" At first, Tony looked at his father in law without comprehension, but then he understood. "Selkirk challenged me, Richard. How could I let that pass?" "Why would he challenge you? Did you insult him?" Tony hated to tell the truth, but it could not be helped. "Harriet made insulting remarks about Selkirk in front of witnesses. Between us, I believe she did it with the purpose to bring about a duel. She has been angry over my acceptance of Selkirk's apology. She wants him dead, and she wants me to be the one to kill him, it seems." Sir Richard turned pale. "Oh my God! Anthony, I don't know what to say. Does she realise the danger for you?" Tony shrugged. "Selkirk's prowess with the sword has been mentioned in her presence, but I doubt she took it seriously. Be that as it may, I would entrust these documents into your care. My updated will is in this envelope. The other envelope is addressed to Richard. Would you please ensure that Richard will receive it when he is of age? I just wrote down the answers to the questions he might have, about my family background and things like that." Sir Richard had to fight his emotions. "I'm sorry, Tony. I never thought my daughter would make me feel ashamed, but the day has come." "It cannot be helped," Tony answered. "Mr. Hogsbotham in Portsmouth has all the documents about my holdings, and he should be able to handle my estate. I must return to the Asia, to get some sleep. Let me just see my son briefly before I go." "You're ... I take it, you will not stay for dinner?" "In all honesty, no. I don't want to see Harriet right now, as you will appreciate. Should I survive tomorrow, I don't want her to follow me to Dublin, either. She can live in Portsmouth or re-open Palmer's house here, I don't care." "That is a drastic step, don't you think?" Sir Richard asked tentatively. "Perhaps it is, but it is her who thinks me inadequate. I should hate to force my presence on her." "Should I talk to her?" "She's your daughter, do as you please," Tony shrugged. "Now, please allow me a short glimpse at my son before I have to leave." He spent the next quarter of an hour sitting with Little Richard, watching the boy sleep, before he rose with an effort and left the nursery. Leaving the house, he briefly heard angry voices from the dinner hall. He recognised Sir Richard's voice and Harriet's. For a moment, he stood undecided whether to offer her a farewell, but he decided against it. The gig brought him back to the Asia and, under the curious glances of the watch, he went straight to his cabin. Sleep would take a long time coming, he knew. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 4: Waking Up The news of the duel between General Selkirk and Captain Carter spread quickly through London. Harriet was at home when her mother returned from a visit with the fresh news. "Harriet, it still happened. Tony and Mr. Selkirk will duel! Why did it have to come to that? I thought the matter was settled." "I don't know, Mother," Harriet replied. She tried to hide the triumphant feeling. Now Tony had to do away with that man! "I didn't think Selkirk's apology was enough, anyway." Eleanor Lambert squinted at her daughter. "Are you not worried about Tony? I hear Selkirk is quite the swordsman, and Tony has a bad leg, after all." Truth was, Harriet had not even considered the fact that Selkirk could be a match for Tony. Now she tried to come to grips with her mother's words. "I have trust in him," she said, but the uncertainty in her voice was obvious. "Shouldn't you put aside your stupid quarrel now and give him your support?" "I can try at dinner," Harriet answered with hesitation. "You may want to offer a sincere apology, too, for the words you used." Harriet had related her version of the fall-out, but Eleanor Lambert had heard her son-in-law's words, too. "After all, he may fall in the duel. Do you want him hurt and upset at you in his last moments?" Harriet swallowed hard. Perhaps for the first time she became aware of the danger Tony was facing, and a hard knot formed in her stomach. "Mother, y-you don't mean th-that, do you?" she gasped. "More duels end with injuries than with death, Harriet, but it is still a serious affair. At least they are fighting with swords. Stab wounds heal better in general." "Mother, stop! Can we please not talk about it?" "Harriet, the duel is not going away if I stop talking about it. Reconcile with your husband tonight at dinner. If you don't, you might just regret it for the rest of your life." With that, Eleanor Lambert left Harriet alone. As soon as her mother was gone, Harriet buried her face in her hands. It was not possible for her to lose Tony, not thinkable. Yet, it was she who had precipitated the affair, with her snide remarks. She had not considered the possibility that Tony might fail at anything. He was perfect. He was the model officer, the invincible fighter. Or was he not? Slowly, the recognition seeped into her thoughts that she had caused him mortal peril. She had not been concerned about his leg; it held up well enough over the last year. But then again, had he not complained about the cold weather and the pain it caused him, just a few days ago? She fretted all day over possible ways out of the predicament, but she could think of none. She even considered visiting Selkirk and offering a full apology for her insulting words, but she knew it could not prevent the duel. Dinner time came, and Harriet made an effort to repair her appearance before she went downstairs. Her father was sitting at the table, his face grave, and barely looking at her. Just when the first course was served, there was commotion in the hall, and Sir Richard stood from the table to investigate. He was gone for a long time, almost a half hour, and when he returned, the look he cast at his daughter was laced with deep disappointment, even loathing. He sat down at the table and gave order for the servants to leave the room. When the butler had closed the door from the outside, Sir Richard turned to Harriet. "Well, what do you have to say in your favour?" Her mother looked from her husband to her daughter, and back. "What is this about, Richard?" "Did Harriet tell you that she is the cause for the duel? Did she tell you that she spread insulting rumours about Selkirk in public, just so that Anthony would have to face Selkirk and kill him? All this, because Anthony refused to continue this pointless feud?" "Tell me you didn't, Harriet!" Eleanor Lambert gasped. Harriet looked down at her hands, her face red with shame. "I ... I didn't think..." "Didn't think?" Sir Richard stormed. "You're not a child, Harriet! You of all should know that men die in duels. What is wrong with Anthony that you want him dead?" "I wanted him to avenge Amanda and her son," she said weakly. "It is my understanding that Selkirk offered a very sincere apology?" Eleanor Lambert asked. That brought back some spark into Harriet. "Will that bring Amanda back to life, or her son? He killed them with his scheming!" "So you decided to stoop to his level, by scheming to have him killed by your husband," Sir Richard stated coldly. "My felicitations, Harriet. You may lose your husband, whichever way this affair will play out. Anthony made it clear that, should he survive, he doesn't want you to follow him to Dublin." "Why wouldn't he?" Harriet protested. "Do you honestly believe he wants to see you? First you accused him of cowardice - Yes, I know about that, too! - and then you schemed to bring him into mortal peril. I fear he may be through with you, Harriet, and you have only yourself to blame." "Isn't that a trifle harsh, Richard?" Harriet's mother interceded. "I'm sure Harriet did not plan this to see Tony hurt or killed." "Maybe not, but at the very least, she aimed to use him as an assassin on Selkirk. She planned on having a man killed, to satisfy her stupid pride." Harriet was past answering. Her mind was racing, but she found no possible way to justify her actions. And then, with a searing pain, she realised that all this was moot. No matter if she could justify herself, she was losing Tony. "Where is he?" she blurted, as tears streamed over her cheeks. "I must see him before ... I must see him before tomorrow!" "That's impossible. He returned to his ship, and he is trying to find some sleep. He left his updated will with me, and a letter for Richard. Leave him alone. He has to meet Selkirk at sunrise, and he will need his sleep." "Will you be there at the duel, Father?" Sir Richard shook his head. "I am not party of the proceedings. This is between the combatants and their seconds. I can only watch from a distance. Resign yourself." "Resign myself? He's my husband!" Harriet returned. "That would have been a good thing to remember before you set this affair into motion. You can't do anything. The only thing left is to hope, and then, if he survives, you can beg his forgiveness; not that I give this much of a chance." Eleanor Lambert sighed heavily. "Your father is right. You better go upstairs now." Harriet nodded. "I understand. You rather not see me?" "We do not feel very fond of you right now, Harriet," Sir Richard stated stiffly. "Oh!" Harriet had to swallow. "Well, as soon as the Asia weighs anchor, I shall move to High Matcham, to raise our children. This is where Anthony will find me if he ever decides to forgive me. He will survive, I know it. I believe in him." Without a further word, she left the dinner hall and went to her rooms. She briefly looked after the children. Little Richard was sleeping, and Emily sat in bed while the nanny read to her from a book. She gave the girl a good-night kiss and then went to their bedroom and changed into street clothes. Considering it was night and where she was heading, she picked up the pistol that her father had given her to protect herself against Rupert Palmer. It was a small, twin-barrel pistol that fit easily in her handbag. She renewed the priming and stuffed the pistol into her bag before she crept downstairs and out of the front door. The streets were not empty yet, and Harriet had no problems finding a cab. Only when she arrived at the embankment, opposite Asia's anchor place, she realised that she was being foolhardy. The quayside was mostly deserted, with a few sailors and dockworkers walking in the unsteady gait of drunks. She looked up and down the quay to find a boatman willing to bring her out to the Asia when two men approached her in a drunk swagger, grinning broadly. "'Ello, wot 'ave we 'ere? Out looking fer some fun, are ye?" Harriet fixed the men with a cold stare. Unfortunately, in the darkness of the late evening, a stare was not much of a help. "I'll thank you to leave me alone!" she snapped therefore. "Oooh, she's laydy, orlroight," the second man slurred. "Ne'er had me a laydy before, nohow!" He swaggered closer but stopped when he saw the barrels of the pistol, gleaming in the weak light. "Now, thet's no way ter treat yer lover, aye? I'll bet ye, ye ha' ne'er shot a pistol in yer loife!" Harriet pulled back the left hammer and raised the gun. "You'd wager your life?" she asked coldly. The sounds of footsteps were suddenly heard, nailed shoes on cobble stones. "What's going on here?" a voice rapped while Harriet heard the unmistakable sound of a sword unsheathed. She breathed a sigh of relief. Whoever approached, he was an officer. "Those two rascals are molesting me," she cried. "Aren't they? Let's have a look at them. Madam, you may want to point your pistol elsewhere." The man, wearing a lieutenant's uniform, came closer and inspected the two drunkards. "Simms and Pollock, by God! You imbeciles molested a lady? Away with you! I shall deal with you come the morning, and I doubt you'll be boatswain's mates for much longer!" The drunkards, now realising the extent of their blunder, shrank away. The officer turned to Harriet. "Madam, let me assure you that both miscreants will receive their punishment. I am Lt. O'Shaunessy, at your service." "Lady Carter. Thank you for your help." He bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, Lady Carter, that I did not recognise you. I am fourth lieutenant in your husband's ship. Should I help you find a cab?" "No, Mr. O'Shaunessy, I have need to visit my husband in the Asia. I was hoping to find a boat,..." "Does Sir Anthony expect you?" "No, I had no time to announce my visit. It is rather urgent, though." "In that case, milady, if you will follow me!" "Thank you, Mr. O'Shaunessy." He was a rather good-looking fellow, Harriet noted subconsciously. Not overly tall and slim of figure, he nevertheless exuded self-confidence and authority. He led her to a slippery steps in the quay where a side boat was waiting for late stragglers. "See us over at once!" O'Shaunessy snapped at the midshipman in charge of the boat. The boat ride was less than two minutes. When the boat was hailed, the midshipman answered "Aye-aye!", as the traditional signal that an officer was coming aboard. O'Shaunessy helped Harriet find her footing on the Jacob's Ladder and followed her up, to guard her against a fall into the cold river. The officer of the watch was surprised to see Harriet, but she left him no time to think. She followed the midshipman of the watch to the cabin she knew so well and held her breath when the boy knocked. "Sir Anthony, Lady Carter to see you!" A few moments later, they heard Tony's voice, laced with anger. "Send her in!" The sentry opened the door and Harriet stepped in, her heart beating wildly. "What in hell do you want?" he asked without so much as a nod in greeting. "I came to be with you tonight." "Are you out of your mind, Harriet?" he whispered angrily. "I made it clear to your father that I don't want to see you!" Harriet exhaled deeply. "I am not my father, and I refuse to leave. I am your wife. I made a terrible mistake, I know that, but I shan't leave you alone tonight. You are angry at me, and I deserve it. I wish there was a way to undo what I did, but there isn't. The last words we spoke were in anger, and I cannot let them be the last words we ever spoke." "I'm not dead yet," he snapped. "I know, and I believe in you. I cannot help but be afraid for you, though. I know you cannot believe me right this moment, but I do love you. You are the only man I'll ever love." "This is indeed hard to believe, after what you said and did." "I know. I made a terrible mistake and I shall ask your forgiveness once this is over. Not tonight, though. Tonight I came only to offer my support and my care. Use me however you want, punish me even! You won't have to see me after tomorrow. I'll take Richard and Emily to High Matcham, and I'll stay there until you'll allow me back into your life again. Just don't send me away tonight!" Somehow, the urgency of her plea had an effect. "I have to be up by four bells," he said tentatively. "That's almost eight hours. Just rest, and I'll do my best to comfort you." He looked at her for a long time before he nodded. "Stay then, but not to comfort me. We must discuss Richard's future, and Emily's, too. If Richard grows up without a father, I don't want you to spoil him." Harriet could not help it. The mentioning of Richard growing up an orphan broke what self control she had and the tears began to run down over her cheeks. "I'm s-s-sorry! I d-d-did n-not want t-to c-cry," she managed to say between sobs. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose in a valiant effort to stem the tears. "Please, don't speak that way. You will survive. You will be there for Richard." Tony shook his head. "Harriet, even if this is taxing for you, we have to face the possibility that I won't survive tomorrow. It is also a talk we should have anyway. I'm a sailor. Even when I don't duel, there is a chance I will not return one day. You said, you'd be here for me, and this is what I want to speak of. It is important to me." Inhaling deeply, Harriet controlled her sobbing and nodded. "You are right. Forgive my weakness. I just can't stand the thought ... And that it's my fault." "Why then, Harriet? Why was the revenge on Selkirk so important?" "I don't know! I was insane. It was like an idée fixe in my mind that you would punish Selkirk, and when you wouldn't, I didn't once think about your reasons. I just wanted it done and I wanted you to do it. I know now how I must look like a scheming harpy in your eyes, but I swear on Richard's life that if you ever find forgiveness for me, I shall never, ever hurt you again!" "Harriet, that may take time. What you said to me and about me was hurting. You claim to love me, yet you accused me of being subservient and cowardly." "I don't know what possessed me to say that, Tony. I even called you an upstart, as if it were a bad thing that you made your way in the service without a powerful family to back you up. I didn't mean those things I said. I just tried to say the meanest things I could think of, because you didn't do what I wanted." "Will it be the same the next time I am unwilling to grant you an unreasonable wish?" "No! If you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I'll never speak out of turn again! I swear it." There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, Harriet could see. "Harriet, I don't want obsequiousness from you either. When I'm wrong about something, call me on it! When I do something that hurts you or Richard, tell me! Just recognise that I won't do things that I feel are wrong and dishonourable. I'm not your puppet, Harriet." "Yes, I know, I know it now, at least. Maybe things went too much my way, all my life. Even when ... When I was married to Rupert Palmer, my parents and friends forgave me everything, because my life was so terrible. You, too, always try to please me. I wasn't prepared to hear a 'no' from you. Even tonight, I barge into your cabin and cost you your sleep. Please, Anthony, will you lie on your cot? We can talk until you fall asleep, but if we stay up, you will never get rested." Tony acquiesced in her suggestion and undressed to his shirt. The chamber was cold, and he slipped under his double blanket. After short hesitation, Harriet followed his lead and pressed against his back, hugging him from behind. "Tell me about your ideas how the children should be brought up," she asked bravely. Over the next hour, they spoke without rancour, discussing Richard and Emily's future. There were surprisingly few differences of opinion, and the conversation died down shortly before midnight. One moment, they were exchanging views on home tutors versus public schools, the next moment, Harriet woke up from a knock on the chamber door. "Four bells, Sir Anthony!" "Thank you," she heard Tony croak as he stretched on the cot. The blanket moved, and the cold air made Harriet shiver. "Damn it to hell, but it's cold!" Tony cursed. He turned to Harriet. "You had better get up, too. We can have some tea before I leave." He spoke without bitterness, even giving her a wry smile. "I never thought I'd sleep that well," he conceded. "Thank you for listening to me, Tony," Harriet answered with feeling. "I'll get dressed and be out of your way. Are you sure you don't want to eat?" It was an innocent question, but Tony's answer made her gasp. "It's better I don't eat. A stab wound to the stomach or intestines is aggravated by food in the digestive tract," Tony answered, quite matter-of-factly. He saw her horrified look. "It's how it is, Harriet. I cannot pretend the duel won't happen. Let me say one thing, though: I feel better and more confident after our talk. It would have been much harder, going into this without our issues clarified." They were silent while they dressed, but once she finished, Harriet had a question. "How will I learn about the outcome?" Tony sighed. "I shan't return to Cavendish Square. You have to understand that. I'll return to the Asia if I can. If not, it is a moot question anyway. I shall send you letters, once we arrive at the Dublin station." "Send them to High Matcham. That's where I'll wait for you," Harriet answered dejectedly. Then she looked up imploringly. "Can I wait for you here, in your cabin? I'll leave then, but let me see you return." Suddenly, her chin was in his hand. Very briefly, but not without feeling, he kissed her. He let go of her immediately and opened the door. He turned to her. "Stay if you want." Tea was waiting for them outside, steaming in the cold morning air. It was sweetened with sugar, and they both drank thirstily. Tony had another cup, even, before it was time for him to go on deck. Harriet stayed behind and settled for the worst wait of her life. The captain's steward, Giles, came in after a few minutes and asked whether she wanted more tea, and Harriet accepted with a grateful smile. "Milady," Giles said earnestly, "the Captain will be right fine. Ne'er worry 'bout him." Harriet just nodded. The tea came and she was taking small sips at intervals, to kill time. There was nothing she could do, unless ... There was Tony's desk, with sheaves of paper, a fine quill and an inkwell. With determination, she sat down and began to write. My Dearest Husband, I am writing this letter while I am waiting and praying for your safe return. Not all I wanted to tell you could be said last night, nor was I able to convey in words the love I feel for you and the deep shame over my deeds. What I did in my folly can neither be explained nor excused. It cannot be undone either, although there is nothing I would not do to that end. No, I have to resign myself to the recognition that I failed you, and that recognition hurts me to my very core. I also see how unfair the situation plays out for you. Not only must you face Mr. Selkirk, but also will the decision about our future - if there is to be one - rest solely with you. I imagine it will be a hard decision whether to forgive me or not, and there is nothing I can do to help you. As I have told you, I shall move out to High Matcham with the children. The rental for the town house will run for more than another year, and to stay with my parents, the way my father loathes my presence, can only be a last resort. I think you should have the Portsmouth house for your use whenever you have a chance to come to port, and you should not be forced to see me there. I shall stay in my exile at High Matcham (I assure you that neither I nor the children will suffer any deprivations) until such time when you will tell me your decision. This is not to say that I would not gladly move to Dublin, to be near you. However, unless and until you feel that you can truly forgive me and love me again, I prefer to be by myself. I could not stand to be near you and yet alone, to feel your resentment whenever you look at me. I am a coward at that, as I will readily admit. At least, while I am at High Matcham, I can hope and dream of you. Please believe that I shall be the best mother you can imagine for Richard and for little Emily. I shall write regular letters to apprise you of their lives and of all other affairs you may need to be privy of. This letter, however, will be the last in which I shall plead with you. After this, you may decide without me trying to sway your mind. Here is my plead, then: my dearest Anthony, without you my life will be empty and bleak. I implore you to forgive my foolishness and to remember that we are meant for each other! Yours in love forever Harriet She folded the sheaves of paper and sealed them shut. She found a paper envelope and wrote the address, Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., Captain R.N. She placed the envelope with the letter in the centre of the desk and looked to the window. It was daylight, and with a shiver, Harriet realised that the duel must have begun already. In all likelihood, it was already decided, and she might be a widow. ------- The rope walk was still sleeping when they crossed it and Tony felt a short wave of apprehension when he saw the small green. He saw a coach waiting at the curb, and he saw Selkirk and his party waiting in the centre of the grass patch. At the perimeter of the free space, he could see several onlookers, his father in law among them. It was a nice gesture, Tony thought. He felt calmer than the day before, as some of his anger and disappointment at Harriet had abated. He could not doubt her remorse over her folly. Perhaps, they would have a reconciliation, even if his resentment of her was still too strong. Dougherty and Galbraith had met Selkirk's seconds, and they returned. "We had better get started before you get even colder, Sir Anthony," Dougherty suggested. "Are you finished with your preparations, Doctor Wilkes?" Jonathan Wilkes nodded solemnly. He had unpacked his bundle of instruments, and his surgeon's mate stood ready, too. Tony opened the tie of his wool cloak, and John Little took it off. Tony was wearing a warm vest under his coat, to keep his torso warm. He took off his uniform coat, too, to better his freedom of movement. Selkirk did the same, and the two men faced off. "Is there a chance for you gentlemen to settle this affair without bloodshed?" Colonel Dunlop asked. Selkirk and Tony both shook their heads. "You are both to fight with your swords until one combatant is unable to continue. A fallen opponent must be allowed to rise to his feet before the fight resumes. The fight will proceed in accordance with the Rules of Engagement set forth in the charter of the..." "One moment, Colonel Dunlop, Sir!" Dougherty interrupted firmly. "When we discussed the conditions, no mention was made of club rules. I must protest your mentioning of any such rules." "My dear Lieutenant, I assumed that was understood!" Dunlop expostulated, his face red. "Nevertheless, no rules of any kind were part of the agreement we reached," Dougherty replied firmly. "My client is not bound by such rules and he and your client may engage in this fight without restrictions." "This is highly irregular!" Dunlop postured. "How can any gentleman even..." Selkirk put a hand on his second's arm. "Please, my dear Colonel, we have no need for a second duel. Even if not club rules apply, I trust the Captain entirely to adhere to the code of gentlemanly conduct." Dunlop swallowed and nodded reluctantly. "Hrhm, well, I must ask you gentlemen to cross your blades." For the first time, Tony looked into Selkirk's eyes. The man was calm and confident, yet fully concentrated. With a wilful effort, Tony cleared his mind of anything else and focussed his attention on Selkirk. He raised his own sword until the tip touched Selkirk's. Dunlop parted the blades with his own, and Tony side-stepped to the right immediately. Not to soon, either, for Selkirk attacked immediately. The thrust missed its mark, but Selkirk was back in a defensive stance before Tony could mount a counter attack. For the next minutes, the two men circled each other, searching for openings. Tony, being aware of his Selkirk's reputation, was leery to press his attacks. Like Selkirk, he tried to get a feel for his opponent. When he feinted for Selkirk's head, he barely avoided the riposte; in fact, Selkirk's sword tip cut a small triangle from Tony's shirt sleeve. When he tried the next time, Selkirk's aim was better, and Tony felt the pain as the blade cut into his upper arm. At once, Selkirk stepped back and the seconds approached to look at the wound. "Barely a scratch," Tony informed them with assumed stoicism. Inside, he had to fight a short panic. Selkirk was better. Selkirk was quicker. With an effort, Tony mastered this momentary weakness. This was better! Selkirk had lunged for Tony's shoulder, and Tony followed his cross-parry with a quick swipe to his opponent's chest. The excellent steel of his sword cut a gash in Selkirk's chest. Again, the seconds intervened, but Selkirk gave the same, curt dismissal. Tony could see how he set his jaw in grim concentration, though. Obviously, Selkirk had expected an easier task. They crossed their tips and resumed their grim play. Now, both combatants were cautious, and the focus of the fight shifted towards a solid defence. After what seemed an eternity, Tony scored his next hit. His blade, though deflected by Selkirk's parry, sunk deeply into the older man's left upper arm. This necessitated a longer break, for Dr. Wilkes to still the blood flow. Nevertheless, Selkirk would not declare himself vanquished. It was stupid of him, but Tony pressed his advantage now. He was tiring, and he wanted to end it. Another hit would bring that about, and Tony was so focussed on his attack that Selkirk's lightning quick stab caught him by surprise. The pain set in immediately, and Tony stared down at his midsection. Selkirk's sword had cut into his waist, barely above the left hipbone. This time, the wound had gone unnoticed by the seconds. Tony realised that the blood flow from his second wound would weaken him, and he mounted a counter-attack. Selkirk had expected the seconds to intervene, and his concentration was broken for a few seconds. This was enough for Tony. His heavier blade forced Selkirk's parry aside, and his next thrust went exactly where he aimed it, into Selkirk's right shoulder. It was the perfect hit for a non-lethal end to the fight. Tony stepped back immediately, for it was clear that Selkirk was unable to lift his sword arm. Now, as the seconds stepped between them, Selkirk had to accept defeat. Tony's wound hurt him fiercely, but he felt the need to put an end to the quarrel. While Selkirk was still attended by his seconds and by Dr. Wilkes, he spoke to Dougherty. "Offer Selkirk an apology over my wife's ill-advised remarks! I want to end this." Dougherty approached Colonel Dunlop and they spoke in low voices. Then Dunlop spoke to his principal, and to his relief, Tony saw Selkirk nod. Dunlop spoke to Dougherty again, and finally, Dougherty relayed the decision. "General Selkirk is willing to accept an apology." Tony stepped forward, his hip hurting him immensely now. "Sir, I regret my wife's ill-advised remarks and offer my apology." Selkirk nodded, grimacing a little, as the movement obviously caused him hurt. "I accept your apology and declare myself satisfied." Then, to Tony's surprise, Selkirk grinned. "Damnit, I never thought you'd best me. That was some neat fencing, by God!" "I agree with that. I would also stipulate that the outcome was mere chance. Either of us could have won. It was an even match." "You should have the Doctor look at your wound, Sir. He did what is possible for me, and I see that you are bleeding excessively." "Indeed, I should," Tony answered, still trying to project stoicism. "Jonathan, I hate to trouble you, but this stab wound is indeed causing some discomfort." Jonathan Wilkes looked at the wound and clucked his teeth. "I would prefer to close this wound somewhere where you can lie down. It will take quite a few stitches and a drainage, too." "By all means, Doctor, see to your Captain's needs now," Selkirk spoke, though somewhat weakly. Obviously the high from the fight was wearing off, and the pain and fatigue were setting in. Consequently, his seconds helped him to the waiting coach while Tony walked with an effort towards the rope walk. Halfway through the walk, Sir Richard closed with them. "By God! What a fine display of fencing you delivered. Both of you, of course! Oh, are you injured? Is it bad?" "A deep cut, but clean, Sir Richard," Jonathan Wilkes hastened to explain. "We are taking him to the infirmary where I can see to his wound under proper conditions." "Richard, will you please cross to the Asia? Harriet is waiting in my cabin. Tell her I survived." "She..." Sir Richard almost exploded. He controlled his outburst. "I can do that. Will you return to the Asia after Dr. Wilkes is done?" Tony nodded. "It is for the best right now. Harriet understands." Nothing more was said while Tony limped along the cobbled street and into the Infirmary. Dr. Wilkes secured a small room with a stone table and bade Tony lie down. He probed the wound to look for damage to the intestines, and he even smelt at it, to detect the smell of fecal matter. When he could not find any signs of damage to the intestines, he rather quickly closed the wound with seven stitches, neat as a seamstress' work. The cut to the upper arm was closed with another five stitches. "It's a good thing, his sword hit you with the edge away from your body. The cutting is all to the outside," he explained. "You should rest as much as possible in the next days." Tony nodded. "I'll lie down in my cabin. Giles and John Little are used to looking after me." ------- Harriet heard the twitter of the boatswain's pipes from the upper deck. Was it Tony returning? Harriet stood, her hands clenched into tight fists, and waiting for the door to open. She knew immediately that the steps were not Tony's, and when the door swung open, she felt the blood leave her face. It was her father. "What are you doing here?" he demanded angrily. "Didn't I tell you..." The fear she had just felt turned into anger. "I comforted my husband, as was my duty! I spoke with him, I begged his forgiveness, and I held him while he slept a full six hours! He listened to me, and he allowed me to stay. Nothing else counts." Harriet threw her head back and gave her father a defiant look. "This is my marriage and Tony's. I am fighting for his forgiveness and love, and I'll thank you not to interfere!" "He slept, then?" Sir Richard asked, less belligerently. "He slept, we drank tea before he left for his appointment, and he kissed me farewell. For that alone I'd defy you and all of London." "He's alive, Harriet. They are bringing him back as we speak. He suffered two wounds, but nothing deep or threatening." Sir Richard stopped and rushed forward to catch Harriet as her legs gave out. He tried to help her into a chair, but she clung tightly to his neck and buried her face against his chest while her body trembled and shook with violent sobs. It was while before Sir Richard was able to calm her and make her sit down. Giles made a showing, his face in alarm over Harriet's seeming distress. "Sir Anthony will be back shortly. Have some tea ready, man, and a breakfast! But first, a bottle of Sir Anthony's finest brandy and glasses!" "Certainly, Sir Richard, at once! Dammit! I knew the Captain was the best!" Giles disappeared, and Sir Richard made a face. "I wish it had been that easy. They went at it for a full half hour. Selkirk wounded him twice, and I thought the blood loss would do him in, but Tony stood his ground and gave as good as he took. In the end, Selkirk was tiring, and Tony placed one perfect riposte to finish it." Harriet looked at her father with dread. "Selkirk's not dead, is he?" "No, he took that fine Toledo blade in his right shoulder. Dougherty maintains that Tony aimed for the shoulder. Anyway, Dr. Wilkes bound him up, and he should recover in no time." Harriet nodded and a small smile played around her lips. Tony had spared Selkirk. He had stuck to his principles. She felt relief, though. Too many people had already died over Selkirk and Fallon's pride, and she would not have a live on her conscience for the rest of her days. "I am gladdened that my scheming did not cost lives," she said, meeting her father's gaze. "You say Tony is not seriously injured?" Sir Richard shook his head. He interrupted, for Giles came with the brandy. Sir Richard made Harriet drink some of the fiery liquid, and she nodded. "I feel better. Knowing Tony is safe, I had better leave. I have left a letter for Tony on his desk. Give him my sincere felicitations, both for his success and for staying true to his beliefs. I must leave him alone now, so he may decide on his true feelings for me. Can you bring me ashore, Father?" "You don't want to stay?" Harriet shook her head. "No. I will not cling to him to gain his grudging forgiveness. I shall leave him alone until he will forgive me of his own decision and will." "Are you certain of that?" Harriet nodded decisively. "Then get your coat. Dr. Wilkes wanted to stitch the cuts at the Navy Infirmary, but Tony may come aboard soon." On deck, Harriet found Lt. O'Shaunessy who, like everyone else on the deck, was grinning broadly. She remembered his help, the night before and quickly approached him. "Mr. O'Shaunessy, I must thank you again for your assistance yesterday. I am in your debt, and if you ever need my help, please let me know." He really was a handsome man, Harriet decided, after O'Shaunessy bowed to her and assured her that it had been his privilege to help her. Harriet then stepped to the port and climbed into her father's barge. They made it to the shore without seeing the captain's gig, and Harriet took a cab to return to her parents' house. ------- The pain was manageable, Tony found, as he limped to the quay. John Little supported his captain unobtrusively and helped him down into the gig. When they neared the ship, they were hailed of course. "Asia!" John Little hailed back, the customary answer when a captain returned to his ship. Four boatswain's mates manned the port with their pipes as he climbed up with difficulties, but to his surprise, the crew raced up the ratlines, in a spontaneous show of respect. "Three hoorays for the Captain!" the boatswain intoned, and the crew shouted as one to his count. Tony blushed a little, but he lifted his hat in response to the cheers. "Thank you, Mr. Bolton," he acknowledged the boatswain. "Thank you, you men!" In his cabin, he found Sir Richard waiting, but no Harriet. Giles and John Little helped him out of his blood stained shirt and breeches, and then steered him to his sleeping chamber. Giles had heated a bed stone in the pantry, and the bed was wonderfully warm. Sir Richard picked a chair and sat by his bedside while Giles rushed to prepare a breakfast for his captain. Sir Richard handed him an envelope. "Harriet left after I told her of the good outcome. She will not force herself on you until you have forgiven her. She said you'd know and understand. She also left behind this letter for you." With more than a little apprehension, Tony broke the seal and unfolded the paper. As he began to read, he realised that the duel had only been the first step to righting the wrongs in his life. It was true what Harriet wrote, he had to make a decision. He could, he even had to postpone it, but eventually, he had to decide whether to forgive her fully or not at all. The way they felt for each other, there was no middle way. Harriet had made that clear in her letter, and Tony agreed with her. He, too, could not stand to live with Harriet in an uneasy armistice. He could not help but sigh when he folded the paper sheets. "I still cannot understand her," Sir Richard said. "What she did was out of character, but yet, she admits to her low motives. I'm sorry that you had to find out about that side of her." "What vexes me is her complete disregard for me and our marriage. I will believe that she feels remorse now. What if it happens again, though?" "I don't know. I know she has a temper. She's her mother's daughter, after all. I don't believe you'd want a docile woman either. We may have spoilt her, I'm afraid. She has never encountered disapproval for her actions before. When she was a girl, it was her prerogative to be impulsive and temperamental. When she had to marry Palmer, everything she did was excused. She has to learn the limits of tolerance for her actions." "She said something to the same effect, last night." "Tony, as much as I love my daughter, you mustn't forgive her too quickly. Take your time. Let her feel the consequences for a while. Make her realise what will happen the next time she oversteps her boundaries. Also, don't give up on her. I am convinced that she really loves you." "I know that, too, but you are right. If I forgive her now, she gets off too easy and she may not learn the lesson. God knows, I don't want a timid wife, but she must learn to give me the respect she demands for herself." "So, what will you do?" "I'll write her an answering letter. That much, she deserves. I believe it is a good idea if she moves to High Matcham with the children. I won't need the Portsmouth house for myself, and she can ask Mrs. Blacket to run the household at High Matcham. Apart from that, I'll have to wait and see how that Irish Sea duty will play out. I shan't rent a house in Dublin either. I'll just concentrate on my ship for a while." "You do that, Anthony. Is there anything you need for your comfort?" "No, I believe I am all set. Commodore Fanning will host a dinner tomorrow night. Can you advise Harriet of that? In spite of our current rift, it would be unwise for me to attend the dinner alone. Please tell her that I shall pick her up at five o'clock." "Will you be up to moving around?" Tony shrugged. "I cannot let my private affairs interfere with my duties and obligations. I should be fine, though." "I'll tell her then. Good luck to you, Anthony!" "Thank you for your support, Richard, and please, don't be too hard on Harriet. She'll have enough on her plate as it is." Sir Richard shook his head. "Just like you, we cannot forget so soon. She must know that we are disappointed, too." After Sir Richard left, Tony was able to eat some of the breakfast Giles had prepared. He slept a little, too, but in the afternoon, he sat at his desk and wrote an answer for Harriet. A midshipman was sent to deliver the letter, and Tony spent another two hours with his secretary, finishing some paper work. After a frugal dinner, the exertions of the day caught up with him and he lay down carefully in his cot. Twice that night, he became aware that Giles and John Little were checking in on him, but he slept reasonably well, even though he had eschewed Jonathan Wilkes' offer of laudanum tincture to ease the wound pains. A willow bark tea had taken off the edges of the pain, and that had to be enough. Jonathan Wilkes came to see him before he even had a chance to get up. It was just getting light enough for Wilkes to examine the wounds. Both seemed to be mending all right, thanks to them being clean cuts and caused by a sharp blade. Wilkes also left him a letter from Lucy Wilkes. He read it while he was having breakfast. She was wishing him a speedy recovery and cautioned him not to put too much strain on his recuperating body. The last paragraphs were interesting. "As you well know, I love Harriet more than my own siblings. Yet, I shall readily admit that the whole altercation not only was her fault alone, but I believe she caused it on purpose. I am afraid that Harriet still has to learn that there are consequences to her actions, and that she cannot enforce her will on her surroundings with impunity. "I visited with her this afternoon (the letter was dated from the day before), and I found her contrite and rueful of her doings. She told me over and over how she will never cause you hurt again, and knowing her quite well - perhaps better even than her husband, for women share their thoughts more freely with each other - I am compelled to believe her. I therefore ask you to see her recent actions as a one-time slip and something that will never happen again. I could not stand to see you and Harriet estranged forever, for I have fond feelings for you both. "I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive her, and I close by expressing the hope that your heart will heal as quickly as those wounds you received. "Your friend "Lucy Wilkes" For a minute or more he marvelled at Lucy Wilkes. She had come a long way since they had picked her up from the quarter boat of the Pretty Jane, in the Timor straits. Back then, she had been a semi-educated girl, abused, deported and beaten down, but through her indomitable personality she had won Andrew Lambert's heart and Tony's support. Poor Andrew. He had been too young and unstable to stand by her, and Jonathan Wilkes had snatched her up like the prize she was. A the start of the forenoon watch, Commodore Fanning came aboard. Ignoring the pain, Tony received his commodore at the port. Fanning looked at his captain curiously but accepted the salute and went below without much ado. Over the next hours, several boatloads of cabin stores arrived, and Giles was commandeered to help Commodore Fanning's steward with the preparations for the dinner. Obviously, Fanning had sounded out the officers and Doctor Wilkes since he avoided to call for Tony, giving his captain time to rest. At the beginning of the first dog watch, Tony called for Giles and had him lay out his second-best uniform. Fresh bandages had been applied before, and Tony dressed carefully before he called for his gig. On the quay, he hired a well sprung Landau carriage to carry him to Cavendish Square. Arriving there, he alighted stiffly and walked up the stairs. The front door opened before he could even knock, and the Lamberts' butler showed him in. There stood Harriet. It was clear that she had been ready for some time, and her face when she saw his stiff movements spoke volumes. Her green eyes were dull and her eyelids were puffy; dark rings showed under them. Tony approached her. "I would like to say you look splendid, Harriet," he said with a weak attempt at humour. "I am afraid, though, that you look like I feel." Harriet bit her lips. "Did you find sleep at least?" she asked. "Surprisingly, yes," Tony admitted. "Jonathan gave me willow bark tea to alleviate the pains, and I slept well. Are you ready?" Harriet nodded and he offered his arm to her. He could feel Harriet's emotions from her grip on his arm and he flinched. "Please, go easy on my left arm," he grimaced. "Oh, no, I'm sorry! Here I go again, hurting you!" Harriet looked as if she was about to dissolve in tears, and Tony hurried to cup her hand with his right hand. "You couldn't know. Relax, Harriet. We shall spend an evening at dinner. There won't be any mention of yesterday, and we shan't discuss any weighty issues. This is a short vacation from our troubles." Harriet breathed a few times to regain her composure. "Let us go, then," she smiled bravely. "Thank you, Tony. You are far too kind to me." There was little talk during the carriage ride to the embankment. Harriet gave a brief recount of the children's day, but they spent most of the ride in uneasy silence. The sight of Harriet in her distress was chipping away at Tony's resolve to keep her at a distance, and he hid the turmoil under a stoic facade. At the quay, John Little helped them both into the gig. The Asia had a boatswain's stool rigged to hoist Harriet aboard, but Tony felt it his obligation to enter his ship using the Jacob's ladder. There was some time left before they would join the dinner party, and Tony made use of it by sitting in his chair and loosening his belt, to relieve the pressure on the wound. "Must you really attend this dinner, Tony?" Harriet asked. "I can see your pain. I am sure Commodore Fanning will be understanding." Tony shook his head stubbornly. "The duel was a private affair, and I cannot allow private affairs to interfere with my duties and obligations." Harriet closed her eyes briefly. He saw droplets glistening under her eyelashes and her lips trembled. He spoke gentler now. "Harriet, I'm not doing this to punish you. I must set an example, though. It's not that bad, don't worry." Harriet stared at him with brimming eyes. "Each time you wince, I feel your pain. I want to hold you and comfort you, and it cuts through my heart that I cannot do that because I fill you with loathing." Tony made an impatient gesture. "I don't loath you, but we cannot pretend the last days didn't happen. Our quarrel is too fresh still, to let bygones be bygones. If you want to help me, contain your emotions for the next two hours." Once again, Harriet fought to control her facial expressions. "If this is how I can help you, I shall compose myself," she said with resignation. It was time to join the other officers and their wives in the after cabin. Commodore Fanning was a gracious host, as they saw immediately. Of course, he had been a very successful frigate captain, and he had to be well off, to say the very least. He greeted Harriet and Tony cordially, making no mention of the duel at all. Tony saw Jonathan Wilkes and Lucy towards the end of the table, and Lucy gave him a smile and a nod. Lt. Dougherty's wife was there, too. She was Dougherty's age, very thin, and exceedingly shy. Kateline Fanning, by contrast, ruled the table. She made sure to memorise the names of all the officers and their wives, and she engaged the younger lieutenants in the conversation. The good mood that pervaded the cabin let Tony and Harriet relax to a certain degree, even to a point when they spoke with each other without uneasiness. Sensing that Tony strove to treat her with consideration, Harriet doted on him in turn, seeing that his needs were satisfied before he even became aware of them. She looked so happy doing this that Tony tolerated her pampering. It was really a pleasant dinner, as everybody agreed when the port wine had been served. Acting Lieutenant Fanshaw, as the youngest officer present, stood to offer the toast then. "Gentlemen, the King!" They had all risen from their chairs, and raised their glasses with various replies. "Long may he reign!" "And the Royal Family!" "For England's Glory!" Tony was next. He raised his glass towards the head of the table. "Gentlemen, a toast to our gracious host, Commodore Fanning, and his lovely wife!" This time, the answering acclamations were more spirited, mostly because Kateline Fanning had won the hearts of the officers. She blushed prettily while her husband rose. "I thank you ladies and gentlemen for gracing this table with your presence. My dear wife and I took great delight in hosting you tonight." This was the signal for the officers to take their leave. Harriet took Tony's arm and spoke in a low voice. "Tony, it has been a wonderful evening. Thank you for allowing me to accompany you. Can I leave with Jonathan and Lucy? You should rest and not spend another hour in a carriage. That is, unless ... No, I'm dreaming." Jonathan would bring Lucy home and probably stay the night. Tony also recognised the bait that Harriet dangled before him, but he was not ready to bite yet. "That is a very good idea, Harriet. Let me ask them." Harriet hid her disappointment well as Tony asked the Wilkes for the favour. Of course, they agreed, and Jonathan Wilkes approved of the idea, admonishing his patient to get rested. After a chaste kiss on the cheek, Harriet was on her way and Tony could retire to his own chamber while the stewards were busy clearing the main cabin. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 5: A Case of High Treason Tony did not see Harriet again before the Asia weighed anchor, three days later. His wounds were healing and causing him but little discomfort. He let Mr. Dougherty handle the ship, until they cleared the Thames estuary. The north-westerly wind allowed them to beat close-hauled along the Channel, bearing for Quessant, off the French coast line. Past Quessant, they continued on their course to win enough westerly way before they went about and settled on a north-northeast leg that led them past the Isles of Scilly. They made it to Ramsey Island, off the Welsh west coast, before they had to go about again, heading west. Another NNE leg brought them close to Holyhead, and from there, they had a clean run for Dublin. It was April, and they encountered some high winds and squalls, but on the whole, the journey went without adverse events. At Dublin harbour, they found the rest of the flotilla. The frigates Mersey and Ulysses were veterans of the Channel Fleet, and their captains welcomed the patrol tasks over the blockade duty they had performed over the last years. The Clotho was a flush-decked, ship-rigged sloop of 22 guns, a sixth rate with a post captain in command, and quite new. She would fill in for either frigate when they had to be relieved of their position. At Dublin, Tony also received Harriet's first letter. She had written it the day after Fanning's dinner. In it, she told him of the children, mostly. Harriet had considered hiring a tutor for Emily, but she had decided to teach her the rudiments of writing herself, along with Jenny. Ellie, the nurse, was suffering from a cold she had caught from Emily, but Little Richard had so far been healthy. Harriet also wrote that she had sent a written apology to General Selkirk, for her insulting remarks. From what she had heard, Selkirk was recuperating steadily. The motion in Parliament to relieve Tony from his command and position had been withdrawn by the planter faction, and the affair seemed to have found its closure. Harriet also expressed the hope that Tony's own wounds had mended and did not trouble him anymore. She relayed her mother's best wishes, too. Harriet herself was organising the move to High Matcham. Following Tony's advice, she would send a letter to Mrs. Blacket, offering her to lead the household. The letter was three hand written pages long, and as promised, there was no plea for forgiveness in it. When he had finished reading, Tony sat at his own desk and composed an answer. He summarised the short passage to Dublin and assured her that his wounds were healing as well as he could wish. He added that the weather was as unpleasant as one could expect in the Irish Sea in April. He could report, however, that their lot would be greatly alleviated by the excellent Porter style beer produced by the Arthur Guinness Brewery of Dublin. He ended his letter on this light note and entrusted it to the mail service. For the next three weeks, the Asia sailed in an endless triangle, from Dublin to Holyhead to the Isle of Man and back to Dublin. Twice every week, the armed cutters found them, bringing reports from the frigates. It was a fruitless enterprise as everybody knew, but Commodore Fanning was determined to patrol his sector as if the French had broken from Brest in force. The rough Irish Sea prevented too much boredom, and the repetitive nature of their patrol gave ample opportunity to exercise officers and crew. For two days, Tony banned the wardroom officers from the decks and put the midshipmen in charge of the stations. In another exercise, Tony let Mr. Dougherty take command without half of the lieutenants. Again, midshipmen and master's mates had to fill in. Lt. O'Shaunessy proved to be a valuable addition to the wardroom. As fourth lieutenant, he had command of the lower gun deck, but he was also a competent watch officer who tolerated no slack during his watch. Whatever had been the reason for his transfer, Tony was grateful. After their first three-week patrol, Commodore Fanning ordered Asia to put into Dublin for re-victualling and for some repairs. He also wanted to make himself known at Dublin Castle and with the local leaders. For the first three days, Tony worked his officers and crew hard to make Asia ready for sea again, but then Fanning told him they would stay for another five days and that they would have to attend a number of soirees and receptions. Another three letters from Harriet had arrived, and Tony posted the two he had written while on patrol. Harriet's third letter was dated on High Matcham, and Harriet wrote about the move and the state of the house and the attached lands. The caretaker, Mr. Brown, had been able to turn around the Woodbridge lands, and they were already turning in a profit again. An account from Mr. Brown was attached, and Tony went over the numbers carefully. It seemed like the Woodbridge lands had been a good investment, giving him almost £300 annual return. In total, their annual rent income was at £1,120 for the year 1806. If he added the earnings from his shares in Whitney&Cie, his investment in the funds, and his pay as Colonel of the Royal Marines, they had over £3,600 to spend, £4,000 if he counted his pay as captain of a third rate ship. He could probably put aside more than £2,000 without missing anything. This was indeed a very comfortable financial situation. That evening, Fanning and Tony went to dine at the Lord Lieutenant's table, in Dublin Castle. They met a number of Irish peers, a number of Army and Militia officers, the Lord Justice of Ireland, and more important people. Consequently, they both sat far down the table. Fanning, of course, was accompanied by his wife who had moved to Dublin. By contrast, Tony was assigned a table partner, Lady Colton, widow of the late Major General Sir Winfred Colton, K.B. The Lord Lieutenant's aide de camp introduced them, and Tony kissed a bejewelled hand. "I am most delighted, Lady Colton," he said politely. "And I am thrilled at meeting a man of your reputation, Sir Anthony," the woman retorted with flashing eyes. "Madam?" Tony asked, his eyebrows raised to indicate his need for clarification. "Oh, news travel fast. Your duel with General Selkirk was the talk of Dublin, two weeks ago. It was expected that Selkirk would make short work of you, but then you put up the sword fight of the year and beat him! His family is from Belfast, you know. Your besting him has won you friends in Dublin." "My dear Lady Colton, this is clearly too much. It was a deplorable affair and unnecessary to begin with, and Mr. Selkirk proved himself as a brave and masterful opponent." "Ta, ta! Do not hide your light under a bushel, my dear Sir Anthony! Although, I will readily admit that a little modesty in a man is a welcome change. Your wife is not with you?" Tony shook his head. "We decided it was better if she stayed on our country seat. Our son is less than a year old, and she will be more comfortable there than in rented accommodations in Dublin." "You'll be the rage of Dublin, Captain!" Lady Colton laughed. "A valiant swordsman, a veteran of Trafalgar, and good looking, too. The ladies will eat you alive." "I take it your mourning year is over?" Tony asked drily, and Lady Colton flashed him a smile. "Oh, it is! But do tell me: will you be staying in port longer?" "That would depend on my superior, Commodore Fanning," Tony answered cautiously. "As for the 'rage of Dublin', I have no desire for any such attention." "A faithful husband? La! Another surprise!" "Indeed, Lady Colton. I am afraid the ladies of Dublin will have to settle for my conversational skills." "So, there is nothing to those rumours stating that you and your wife are estranged?" "We only married last year. I am not that fickle," Tony answered lightly, even when the mention of that rumour annoyed him greatly. "Even though she provoked that duel? You must not think we do not hear all the London gossip. It just arrives later." "Quite obviously, the gossip also becomes more exaggerated on its way to Dublin," Tony played it down. Inside, he felt no small amount of annoyance. People gossiped about him and Harriet? Why? He was just a relatively junior captain and Harriet certainly was no prominent member of society. His face must have betrayed his thoughts for Lady Colton laughed brightly. "Like it or not, Captain, your success has made you a public figure. Now, there is another juicy piece of gossip: were you not seen with Anita Heyworth, two years ago?" "Miss Heyworth is an old friend of mine, and she is also one of my wife's best friends. There is nothing juicy to that," Tony answered calmly. "I may add that Miss Heyworth served as my wife's bridesmaid." "You astound me, Captain. Most men would brag about that particular conquest. In fact, many did over the last years, even though their claims are disputed by those who know her well. I should add 'discreet' to your virtues." Tony bowed his head. "I find that a compliment I like," he answered. Lady Colton continued her efforts to extract bits of information from Tony but he managed to head off most of her questions. When the dinner wound down after dessert, she was still none the wiser as to Tony's openness to a dalliance. "I hope I can entice you to a visit at my house?" she dangled yet another bait, shortly before the party broke up. "Honestly, Lady Colton, I believe we both know this to be a bad idea. Neither of us wants the sort of reputation such a visit may precipitate. I, for one, do not want to cause distress to my wife, and knowing now how fast gossip travels, I fear that any private rendezvous will cause just that." She gave him a quizzical glance but she did not seem to be offended. "A loyal husband? They will put you on exhibition before long. Anyway, since my female wiles avail me nothing, I surrender to your virtue. I hope to see you again, Captain, at least for the novelty." After the evening closed, Tony reflected on what he had learned. Harriet and he were items of gossip. If Lady Colton in Dublin knew about their rift, then people in London knew for sure. That meant, the idlers of London would set their sights on Harriet. The thought unsettled him considerably. To be sure, they had been on polite terms when he saw Harriet last, but they were far from being reconciled. What if, in this situation, an expert seducer prowled on her? Reason came to his rescue. Harriet was in High Matcham, away from London and its temptations. Also, Harriet would not give up on their love so soon, would she? In her pleadings, she had claimed him to be her only love, over and over again. With determination, Tony shook off the fears. No, Harriet might be headstrong and spoiled, but she would never cheat on him. Yet, even if he was sure of her feelings, how would things change over time, if they could not achieve a reconciliation? How long could he cold-shoulder her until her love for him waned? And what could he do at all? He would not come ashore in England for a long time, perhaps for a year or more. He could only justify to sail for Portsmouth if Asia was damaged badly and what chances were there of that to happen? His mind a maelstrom of worries, he set to task as soon as he returned to his cabin. He had started a letter earlier, but seeing it now, factual and sober as it was, he tore it up and started a new draft. My dearest Harriet! I hope this letter finds you and the children in good health and that you have accustomed yourself to the country life. I can see High Matcham in my imagination, no doubt fuelled by the fond memories I have of our short stay there, last year. I trust that the stay there will serve to put a smile on your face again, for that is how I like your face best and how I see it when I think of you. I have been thinking of you all evening, in fact, ever since returning from a dinner soiree at Dublin Castle, and I will admit that I am altogether unhappy with the way I left you. I still wish you had not precipitated the duel with Mr. Selkirk. More importantly, I wish you had worded your displeasure over my unwillingness to confront Selkirk with more tact. Yet, I do not want you to be left with the impression that I question our marriage. Now that my wounded pride is healing, I realise that not being with you is far more hurtful than any disagreement we had. As things stand, there is not much of a chance to see you in person in the near future. Short of a serious damage to the ship, I can hardly justify a return to Portsmouth. Therefore, I must put my feelings in writing, and I hope that my written words can convey that which I neglected to say when I had the chance. My love for you is still strong and I hope that we can soon put behind ourselves the altercation that we had, not forgetting it, but learning from it so that we may avoid similar fall-outs in a future which we will hopefully spent together in harmony. Your loving husband Anthony After re-reading the letter once more, he folded it and put it in an envelope which he addressed to Harriet. He would have it posted the next morning. With that resolve, he was finally able to lie down in his cot, trying to find some sleep. When he awoke the next morning he felt better, in spite of his short rest, and he was on deck at six bells. Mr. Dougherty arrived on the quarterdeck shortly after, and one look at his First Lieutenant's grave face was enough to make Tony apprehensive. "Good morning, Sir Anthony," Dougherty greeted. "Good morning, Mr. Dougherty. You seem to be a bearer of bad news?" "Indeed, Sir. Mr. O'Shaunessy was arrested on shore last night. The charge is High Treason." For a moment, Tony thought he had misunderstood his second-in-command. "High Treason? Are you quite certain of this?" "I'm afraid, yes, Sir. He was found in the company of a number of known conspirators. I already visited him in his holding cell. He emphatically denies the charges. He claims he was at a dinner in the home of a childhood friend when the soldiers rushed in and arrested everybody. He swears to his loyalty to the Crown. Frankly, Sir, I cannot believe those charges either. Mr. O'Shaunessy never gave the impression of being disloyal." "How can he be part of a conspiracy when he just put his feet on Irish soil for the first time in almost three years? The Nightingale was stationed in the Mediterranean. This seems like a bunch of hogwash. I am sure, he will be released soon. Anyway, kindly keep me appraised of the development, Mr. Dougherty." Tony shook his head, hoping that things would clear up soon. O'Shaunessy had already proven his worth as Fourth Lieutenant, and he was needed. ------- Four days had gone by when Tony was interrupted as he was reading the week-old Morning Chronicle. "Sir, Mr. Dougherty for you," the Marine sentry announced. Tony looked up from the paper and closed it. Dougherty was worried, he could see. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dougherty?" "Sir, I just heard it. Mr. O'Shaunessy will be charged with High Treason. The Prosecutor is adamant that he was in collusion with the other men present when the soldiers arrested them." "But this is nonsense!" Tony expostulated. "He went ashore to meet a few friends from his boyhood. He was away from home for over three years, and that's well documented. Perhaps, I should have a talk with that prosecutor?" "The trial is already set, Sir, at a week from now." "So soon? Well, I can still try, can't I?" "It may help, Sir. I am willing to testify as to Mr. O'Shaunessy's conduct on board and the loyalty he showed. I am sure that the rest of the wardroom will do the same. Will you allow us to testify, Sir?" "Of course, Mr. Dougherty. Your offer shows the sort of conduct that I look for in my officers. I will offer the same, by the way. Now, where would I find that prosecutor?" ------- The prosecutor, the Hon. Mr. Melrose, resided in the court house, and he let Tony wait for a half hour before he saw him. Tony had learned his lesson, though, and he was polite when he introduced himself. "Mr. Melrose, I am Captain Sir Anthony Carter of his Majesty's Ship Asia. I came to inquire about the charges levied against one of my subaltern officers, Mr. O'Shaunessy." "The traitor O'Shaunessy will be tried next week. I recommend that you look for a replacement, Captain," came the curt, almost brusque reply. "It is my understanding that the charges are based solely on the fact that Mr. O'Shaunessy was present at a dinner party attended by other suspects. That does not appear condemning evidence to me." "Captain, I am a man with little time, and I do not have the leisure to accommodate your curiosity." "Yet, you may elect to enlighten me, Mr. Melrose. You may also want to remember that a member of a chivalrous order is entitled to the address 'Sir' and that being denied of that privilege may be interpreted as offending behaviour." That, at last, had an effect on the man's smugness. He paled and swallowed. "Of course, Sir Anthony, my mistake. You have to see though that your Mr. O'Shaunessy's presence is not the only evidence I have. The man's great-uncle was a general in the French army and his cousins are serving in the French army as we speak!" "Yet, Mr. Melrose, Lieutenant O'Shaunessy had no opportunity to engage in conspiracies. Before he joined my ship, he was serving in the Nightingale frigate, in the Mediterranean Sea. All he saw of land in the past three years was Gibraltar and Port Mahon. My First Lieutenant took the pains to look into his personal papers. Apart from a very old letter from his father, there were only letters from his sister, and Mr. Dougherty saw nothing in them raising his suspicion. Lieutenant O'Shaunessy is undoubtedly a loyal officer." "He should have picked his friends better, then," Melrose replied, with his infuriating smugness returning. "We caught him with the conspirators, and his family has a history of treason." Tony succeeded in maintaining his calm. "If this is your opinion, Mr. Melrose, then a jury will have to decide. Who will act as Mr. O'Shaunessy's defender?" Melrose looked downright pleased now. "There is no such thing as a defender. The charge will be delivered, the facts will be presented, and the jury will form an opinion. The practice of a defender is only for military courts-martial." "Again, Mr. Melrose, I cannot think it to be in your best interest to address me with such a blatant lack of politeness," Tony countered, his voice showing his annoyance now. As expected, Melrose swallowed and apologised. "I'm most sorry, Sir Anthony. I am not used to dealings with distinguished officers and knights." "Well, I shall leave it be one more time. Where can I find Mr. O'Shaunessy?" "He is held under arrest in the garrison building." Tony stared back at the man. "Sir Anthony!" "Thank you. You may want to remember the polite address for when I will testify in the trial." With that parting shot, Tony left the room, trying to control his anger. The thought that a man might be convicted of treason for having dinner with boyhood friends and for having a French uncle was unsettling to him. In a Navy court-martial, a recorder would be given a severe dressing down by the presiding judge if he brought up a case with such circumstantial evidence. Obviously, ashore and in Ireland, things were different, for Melrose had shown a confidence that worried Tony. At least, O'Shaunessy was treated well in the garrison. Tony was led into a chamber that was appropriate for an officer. He was dressed in clean clothes and appeared to be lacking in nothing. "This is very nice of you, Sir Anthony," he started when Tony entered the room. "I swear, I had no idea that my old friends were involved in traitorous activities. My half of the family have always been loyal to the crown, Sir." "I believe that, Mr. O'Shaunessy, and the wardroom will testify on your behalf, too. You may call me to the witness stand to read from your papers. It should be obvious that you only returned to Ireland an hour before you were arrested, hardly enough time to start a conspiracy." "That would be most helpful, Sir. I learned that things are tricky, here on shore. There is no defender. I'll have to do my own defence." "Do you wish for me to retain an attorney of law to give you advice on how to conduct your defence?" "Would you do that for me, Sir Anthony? I do not have that many savings, Sir, with my sister living on my salary, too, but I will..." "That is not something we should be concerned with right now. You said you have a sister. Does she know of your situation?" O'Shaunessy nodded. "She should arrive, soon, Sir Anthony. We're from Ballycastle, but since my father died, Siobhan, my sister, Sir, has been living in Belfast with my mother's sister. I sent her a letter and money for the coach ride." "I see. Let me know if she needs any help. I will try to find an attorney to advise you." "Sir Anthony, I shall always be grateful for your help!" "Thank Mr. Melrose. The man got up my gander, and I'd do anything to wipe that smug smile from his face," Tony answered, smiling. "I may yet teach him some gentlemanly conduct, too." "Sir, please do not go into any trouble on my behalf. Melrose is well connected here in Dublin." Tony smiled grimly at that. "Mr. O'Shaunessy, it is my experience that well-connected men bleed as readily as friendless ones. Never worry, though. I'll be off, finding you a magister of the law." Once he left O'Shaunessy's room, he found the garrison's aide-de-camp and asked him whether he knew any good attorneys in Dublin. The worthy man told him with a smirk that he just as well never had dealings with a lawyer, leaving Tony at a loss at how to make good on his promise. Who would have need for lawyers, he asked himself, when the answer presented itself. Less than a half hour later found him standing in the entrance hall of Lady Colton's Dublin residence. "What a pleasant surprise, my dear Sir Anthony!" Sarah Colton exclaimed when she recognised her visitor. "Did you reconsider your stance?" Her face showed both amusement and a certain — hope? "I came to ask for your advice, and possibly, for your help, Lady Colton," Tony answered. "Would you know any attorney in Dublin, or perhaps a retired judge?" "Why, yes, Sir Anthony. My husband's brother was a judge. May I ask the reason?" "Of course. My Fourth Lieutenant got entangled in a conspiracy and finds himself under a treason charge. He is entirely innocent in the matter, but he needs advice as how to handle his defence. I am of course willing to remunerate your husband's brother for his time and efforts." "May I see that lieutenant first and speak to him? I would hate to involve my brother-in-law with a traitor, but if your officer is indeed innocent, he will need help. Mr. Melrose is using this trial as a stepping stone for his ambitions, and the more men he can have convicted, the better he will be viewed." "Even if innocent men are convicted?" Tony asked, already suspecting the answer. "Mr. Melrose will not care, and his superiors will not know." "I see, Lady Colton. When will you find it convenient to visit Mr. O'Shaunessy?" "Why not right now, Captain? That trial is set for next week, and we had better not dally." So it came that Tony returned to the garrison building not two hours later, with Lady Colton. O'Shaunessy was not alone, though. On the chair opposite the cot sat one of the loveliest women Tony had seen in his life. Of medium height, she was slender but well-proportioned. Her most outstanding feature was her hair. It was the colour of ripe wheat, bound in a single braid, and it reached all the way down her back. Her nose was slightly crooked and tilted to the left, but her violet-blue eyes more than made up for that imperfection. O'Shaunessy stood quickly when he saw his visitors. "Sir Anthony, Madam, may I introduce my sister Siobhan?" "Enchanted, Miss O'Shaunessy!" Tony replied, meaning it. He almost shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Lady Colton, this is Mr. O'Shaunessy and his sister, Siobhan O'Shaunessy. I hope to interest Lady Colton in your case, Mr. O'Shaunessy." When Lady Colton saw Michael O'Shaunessy, a deep blush crept into her face and Tony noticed her whole posture change. She was a female who had just discovered a suitable and available male, and there was hell to pay for anyone who would come into her way. "And interested I am. Please, tell me your side of the affair." O'Shaunessy briefly retold the events from his viewpoint, and Lady Colton listened to his words with barely hidden agitation. When he finished, she took his hands. "My dear young man, you are not friendless in your ordeal! I shall speak my husband's brother at once. He is a retired judge and he will advise you in your defence against those trumped-up accusations. Fear not." She turned to his sister. "And you rushed to your brother's side, my dear girl? How brave! Do you have a place to stay?" For the first time, Siobhan O'Shaunessy opened her mouth, and her voice sent goose-flesh down Tony's spine. "No, milady. I just arrived and my first concern was to see my dear brother." "You may of course stay in my house, as my guest. I am a widow, and I shall welcome the companionship." "That is very kind of you, milady," Siobhan answered. Now, was there mirth in the young woman's voice? Yes, Tony was certain. She, too, had recognised Lady Colton's motivation. Their eyes met, and Tony saw a little devil of bemusement dance in her eyes. Dear God! He had to get a grip on himself. Harriet! With an effort he conjured her image before his eyes. Harriet! He would not betray her, not ever. "I, hrhm, find this a wonderful arrangement for all sides involved," he managed to say with what dignity he had left. "Sir Anthony? I want to thank you, too, for helping my brother. We are loyal to the crown and true followers of the Church of Ireland." Tony forced the unholy thoughts from the forefront of his thinking. Both young people depended on his support, and he needed a clear head. "I do not doubt your brother's loyalty, Miss. I may also add that my stance is shared by the entire wardroom of my ship." "Thank you, Sir Anthony, this gives us hope." "Speaking of hope, I must interview my husband's brother instantly. Will you kindly accompany me, Sir Anthony?" Tony was glad for the excuse to leave the room, and soon he and Lady Colton were on their way to the home of Justice Colton, south of the river. The Judge proved to be a man in his early sixties, of excellent health and with a dislike for Mr. Melrose that matched Tony's. He hemmed and hawed for a few moments, but then he agreed to see O'Shaunessy. At this point, Tony excused himself, leaving the next steps in Lady Colton's able hands. She gave him a friendly smile before they parted, and Tony returned to the Asia, satisfied that O'Shaunessy would have competent and influential help. He spent the next hour pleading with Commodore Fanning that Asia be permitted in Dublin harbour during O'Shaunessy's trial. In the end, Fanning relented, settling for a short, four-day cruise during the next days. He had conditions, though. "I want to make one thing clear, Sir Anthony: you will not seek a confrontation with that prosecutor. If he is disrespectful, complain with the judge. I won't have you fight another duel." Tony just nodded. "I shall not suffer wilful insult to my person, but I will not precipitate any confrontation." "Fair enough. Kindly weigh anchor with the morning tide. I want us to complete a full patrol run before we return to port on Friday." "Aye-aye, Sir," Tony answered, satisfied that they would return in time. Back in his cabin, he filled in Mr. Dougherty. Together, they identified Midshipman Chandler as new, acting lieutenant. In his place, Volunteer George Uxbridge received his warrant as midshipman. The four day cruise went without major events or encounters. It was sheer nonsense to have a third rate ship patrol a waterway, yet with the alternative, namely blockade duty, Tony did not complain. It was early Friday when Asia cast anchor again in the River Liffey. As soon as practicable, Mr. Dougherty went ashore to learn of the latest developments. He returned two hours later, reporting that the trial was to take place as planned, but that witnesses for the defendants would not be heard before Monday. O'Shaunessy had spent the week under Judge Colton's tutorship, learning the procedures and also his rights and privileges. The officers of HMS Asia were there when the trial opened. The judge, a mellow-voiced gentleman, explained the jury members' duties. Then he advised the defendants of their right to question any witness, and commanded the prosecutor to read the charges. Mr. Melrose stood and began his charge. He was a good orator, and he used his skills to paint a grim picture of the defendants' characters. There were seven of them, and for each, he listed their misdeeds, as there were conspiracy to overturn the government of George III, rightful king of Great Britain and Ireland, insulting his Majesty and his Majesty's ministers and officers, and withholding of taxes. After the charges were delivered, the defendants had to make their plea. Four of them proudly proclaimed themselves guilty, asserting that they did not recognise the rule of King George over Ireland and proclaiming themselves Irish patriots. Three of the men, including O'Shaunessy, denied the charges. For the next two hours, witnesses were heard for the prosecution, including the officers who had arrested the defendants. They related what they had seen and found, and some material evidence was entered, including a hand-written member list that included all names but Michael O'Shaunessy's. Then, another witness was called, and an angry murmur rose from among the spectators. He was one David Ahearne, and he had been on the list of conspirators. He was a spy for the government, though, and he gave testimony as to who had said what and when. He also revealed details of the plot, mostly aimed at freeing imprisoned Irish patriots. He implicated all the defendants, even O'Shaunessy. O'Shaunessy, in his cross-examination, questioned Ahearne sharply. The man was adamant that O'Shaunessy had been a part of the conspiracy, even naming events when O'Shaunessy had been clearly absent from the British Isles. Tony was positive that the charges against O'Shaunessy were refuted, but things were not as they seemed. O'Shaunessy's plea to have Ahearne's testimony stricken and to have him charged with perjury was rejected by the judge. Tony knew then that the cards were already stacked against his lieutenant. Prosecutor and judge were in cahoots, and the informer was a paid liar. On the next day, a Sunday, Tony visited with O'Shaunessy. Lady Colton was there, as was Siobhan O'Shaunessy. A little later, Judge Colton joined them. Like Tony, he was of the opinion that the trial was rigged in advance. The lies of Ahearne were too blatant, and the refusal of the judge to strike the liar's testimony were indicative of pressure being applied to have all the defendants convicted. It was decided to move ahead quickly and to draft a petition to the King for a full pardon. Tony hoped for his father in law to support the petition, and for Harriet and Lady Lambert to find even more supporters. Lady Colton volunteered to accompany Siobhan O'Shaunessy to London, to deliver the petition. Judge Colton had seen many petitions in his time, and he drafted the text. He would have it printed the next day, and he would co-sign it, together with Tony. The next day, the trial resumed. The defendants called their witnesses, mostly character witnesses who attested to their good families and their good standing with their peers. O'Shaunessy called for Mr. Dougherty first, and that worthy told the jurors that Lieutenant O'Shaunessy was an exemplary officer and well-respected by the wardroom. Siobhan O'Shaunessy was called next, and she told of her family's loyalty to the crown. Melrose tried to attack her in his cross-examination, bringing up her great-uncle's defection to the French side. Judge Colton had prepared the girl, though. With a tear-streaked face, she retold how his brother's treason had brought her own grandfather to an early grave with shame. She told how her brother was denied entry into the army for the same reason and that he had chosen the Navy as his only chance to serve the King. Melrose tried to ridicule her, but the jurors liked Siobhan O'Shaunessy and Melrose quickly ended the cross-examination, for fear of alienating the jury. Next came Tony. He had prepared himself well, and he brought along O'Shaunessy's service papers and evaluations. He had also found Gazette articles that named O'Shaunessy for his bravery. All these points, he managed to convey under O'Shaunessy's respectful questioning. When he was finished, Melrose jumped up. "Captain, how long have you known the accused?" "Nigh on two months, I should guess. May I also remind you of the proper address for a member of a chivalrous order?" Tony wanted to needle the man, and it worked. "So, Sir Anthony..." "See, it's not too difficult," he interjected, to a suppressed chuckle from the spectator seats. "Sir Anthony, how can you judge an officer's character after knowing him for only two months?" "By the same measure as you claim to know it, after hearing an hour of testimony from an obvious liar. I'll have you know that in the close quarters on board a man-o'-war, one can quickly learn about the character of a man. "I also have his service record. His former captain speaks highly of him in his evaluations. He was mentioned twice in Gazette articles for his bravery in action. He was also without a doubt sailing the Mediterranean Sea in HMS Nightingale when that Ahearne character claimed he was in Dublin, conspiring against the King." "You are calling Mr. Ahearne a liar, Sir Anthony?" "I say, he was not speaking the truth with regard to those supposed meetings where he claimed Lt. O'Shaunessy was present. You may draw your own general conclusions as to the credibility of a man who we know to have lied at least once under oath. If he finds my words objectionable, he'll know where to find me." "Sir Anthony, can you explain why Lieutenant O'Shaunessy had to leave his former ship, the Nightingale? It seems, he was regarded as a disturbing influence there." Tony made a show of sighing, as if he had to explain a trivial thing to a child. "Mr. Melrose, the wardroom of a sixth rate ship such as the Nightingale measures less than thirty by twenty feet and it houses at least six commissioned officers. Living that closely together for years and under all weather conditions, can bring out the best and the worst in men. Add to that that nobody ever finds enough sleep, and then small incompatibilities can grow into enmity, and annoying habits become unbearable. I would read nothing into the circumstances under which Mr. O'Shaunessy left the Nightingale." "Sir Anthony, is it possible that your understandable admiration for Mr. O'Shaunessy's sister may cloud your perception?" Tony had to fight to maintain a calm appearance but he succeeded. "I met Miss O'Shaunessy only after I decided to help her brother fight these baseless accusations. I would also ask the Lord Justice whether a gentleman and knight must suffer to have his word and honour questioned in his court?" "The Prosecution will refrain from asking unsavoury questions," the Judge ordered with a bored voice. "I meant no offence, Sir Anthony," Melrose hurried to explain. "I was merely implying that Miss O'Shaunessy's beauty may sway a man's perception." "As may the gold and money that you paid to your informer," Tony countered quickly, seeing Melrose's open defence. "Surely, he is receiving head-money from you for every man he implicates." "The witness will answer questions and not offer baseless speculation!" the Judge grated, obviously more angered now than over Melrose's insinuations. "I beg your pardon, milord. Of course, baseless speculation is the privilege of the prosecution," Tony answered coolly, looking at the judge unabashed. He received a nasty look from the judge for his trouble, but he was angry and reckless by this point. Commodore Fanning on the spectators' benches coughed pointedly, and Tony took a deep breath to control himself. "I have no further questions," Melrose hurried to announce. "The witness is excused." Tony stood up, corrected the seat of his sword belt, and stalked from the witness box to the spectators' benches. O'Shaunessy had no further witnesses, but he summed up his defence nicely enough, stating that key elements of Ahearne's testimony were obviously false and contradictory to official reports, and that he was a loyal officer, fighting for King George and against the French. Next, Melrose summed up for the prosecution. For six defendants, their guilt was proven by the ominous member list, as well as by Mr. Ahearne's testimony. He went on to say that even if Ahearne had erred in minor details such as dates, Michael O'Shaunessy was surely guilty, too, with a traitor for a great-uncle and holding friendly intercourse with traitors. If he was loyal, why was he dining with the conspirators? In the end, the hand-picked jury followed Melrose. All seven defendants were found guilty, although in O'Shaunessy's case, the vote was seven to five. With a grave face, the Lord Justice handed down death sentences to four men, the rest, including O'Shaunessy were to be deported for life. All the convicted were led away in shackles while their relatives voiced their protest. Lady Colton contrived to get O'Shaunessy's supporters out of the Four Courts before the protests precipitated any punitive action from the judge. Siobhan O'Shaunessy was desperate and near tears over the outcome. They met in Lady Colton's house to plan the next steps. Lady Colton would accompany Siobhan on the journey to London, to deliver the petition for a Royal Pardon. Tony had already found a ship for them bound for Southampton and he promised to write letters of introduction both to Harriet and to Sir Richard. He spent several hours that evening, composing the letters in which he urged Harriet and his father-in-law to lend their support. He also wrote down his own account of the trial, the obvious lies by the key witness, and the biased disposition of the justice. He sealed everything and had it sent to Lady Colton's house. He never saw Lady Colton or Siobhan O'Shaunessy again, but he ascertained that they made the ship for Southampton before he had to ready the Asia for her next patrol. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 6: Dabbling in Politics Harriet was squinting her eyes in the bright sunlight as she stepped from the manor house. The weather had improved over the last weeks, and they had a hot summer for a change. It was not just the weather that had lifted Harriet's mood. Two weeks ago, a letter had arrived from Tony. It was just a little over one page, but it had changed Harriet's outlook completely. For weeks and months, she had been morose and depressed, fearing that her mistakes had damaged her marriage irrevocably. True, Tony had been friendly on their last evening together, but 'friendly' was not what Harriet wanted of him. His first three letters had been just the same. Friendly and sober, he had rather reported than told of his life. Reading his letters reminded Harriet of her own letters to distant relatives. This all changed when, two weeks ago, the rather short and hastily written epistle arrived. In it, he had admitted that he still loved her and believed in their marriage. The relief she felt could only be compared to what a stout Catholic would feel upon receiving absolution from the Pope of Rome. He still loved her. Now, everything would be good again, as soon as she had a chance to rush into his arms. She was dreaming of perhaps moving to Dublin, to be closer to him, but that would have to await his formal asking. She had hurried to write a response. She wrote to him about her own fears and her relief over his willingness to forgive her. She also wrote about her desire to sleep in his arms again, about her craving for his touches and caresses. She could almost feel him when she wrote that passage. His next letter was dated a few days later, and it was clear that her answer had not yet reached him. She was surprised and dismayed at reading about the arrest of Lt. O'Shaunessy. She was grateful for the young lieutenant's assistance on that terrible evening before the duel, and she fervently hoped for a positive outcome. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Brown, the caretaker, who just left the house, too. "The painters should be finished in a week, milady, and the house will be as good as new." Harriet nodded. "Yes, it does look pretty again. It is a pity it was neglected for so long. I suppose we can rent it out. It should not stand empty." They were standing in front of Woodbridge Manor, the manor house of the lands Tony had bought the last year. The manor had been in a poor state of repair, and Harriet had taken the decision upon herself to have it renovated. She knew Tony's stance on such matters, and she was certain of his approval. "I can ask around for tenants. It's a fine house now, and many people just want nice living without the need to look after lands. I suppose you can ask three hundred pounds or more per year." "That much? I'm surprised. Well, let us try. I would have to see the people, first." Mr. Brown accompanied her on the ride back to High Matcham. She was surprised to see her mother's coach standing in front of the steps, and even more surprised when not her mother but two strange women alighted from it. One of the women was just a tad older than Harriet, but she was good-looking, with wavy black hair and a finely formed face. She was tall, but she carried herself well. Harriet's look fell on the other woman. She, too, was of good height, slender like Harriet, but with straw-coloured hair. She had a very pretty face, only marred by a slightly crooked nose, but her eyes were of an impossible violet-blue. Harriet dismounted and handed the reins to a groom. She approached the two women, wondering about the reason for this visit. "Lady Carter?" the black-haired woman asked. "Yes, indeed," Harriet answered. "I am Lady Colton, of Dublin, and this is Miss O'Shaunessy. We come asking for your help." The younger woman approached her hesitantly. "I have this letter of introduction from your husband, Lady Carter. In it, he explained our purpose." Seeing the blonde Irish girl, Harriet felt fear rise within her. Had it not been for Tony's last letters, she would panic. Tony had obviously had dealings with this beautiful young woman. Her memory came to her help. O'Shaunessy! The girl must be a relative of Lt. O'Shaunessy. She took the letter and offered her visitors to step in. Inside, Harriet called for a maidservant to have refreshments brought to the salon. While tea was served, Harriet quickly read the letter. My dearest Harriet! I write this letter in the hope that it finds you and the children in good health and spirits. Here in Dublin, things have turned bad, as Mr. O'Shaunessy was indeed convicted of treason and sentenced to deportation for life. As you will appreciate, the sentence caused desperation on the part of his poor sister who will lose her only relative. Together with Lady Colton and her brother-in-law, Judge Colton, I have tried in vain to point out the obvious errors in the charges against O'Shaunessy, alone, Prosecutor and Judge were set in their opinion and the jury followed them like sheep. Lady Colton has agreed to lend support and provide company for Siobhan O'Shaunessy who will submit a petition to the King, for a full pardon of her brother. Entrez nous, I believe Lady Colton to be at least a little smitten with young O'Shaunessy. She is a widow of considerable wealth and charms (you may assess the latter yourself), and O'Shaunessy can count himself lucky to have won her support and possibly more. Since I, too, believe strongly in young O'Shaunessy's innocence, I would ask you to help young Miss O'Shaunessy to find the necessary backing for the petition. Your mother should know personages able to help as does your father, but there can never be too much support. Hateful though the memory of your first marriage may be, you must have met important people through your father in law. Knowing your strong views on justice, we hope to enlist you on our side. Therefore, I would ask you to give up your self chosen exile at High Matcham and to join forces with your dear mother and father, for the benefit of an innocent man who stands to be deported for life. Your loving husband Anthony Harriet finished reading and looked at her guests. "My husband asks me to lend you my support. I am not certain yet that I can be of help, but I will try. I have met Mr. O'Shaunessy before, and he was kind enough to render me assistance once. I take it you need support for your petition from influential personages?" Lady Colton nodded. "Yes, your mother already pointed out possible supporters, but she also mentioned that you have a circle of friends, too, who may be willing to use their influence." Harriet thought about that. Of course, Lord Broughton might help her, out of his sense of obligation, and he was a well connected Tory. While married to Rupert, she had met a number of people important enough to be of help, but would they be willing to exert their influence? Anita! The popular actress could sway almost any male. Perhaps, she would be willing to charm potential supporters? "I can try, although I should be open about the fact that I am not what you would call well connected. I can only think of my former father in law who may help us, and of my dear friend, Anita Heyworth." Lady Colton raised her eyebrows in surprise, it seemed. "Yes?" Harriet asked. "Nothing, I only remembered that your husband told me of your friendship with Miss Heyworth." "You find that surprising?" Lady Colton looked back and nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. After all, she was seen repeatedly with your husband in the past." "Our friendship predates that brief episode, and I was married to another man at the time. I consider her one of my closest friends." "The better it is for our purpose. I hear the Duke of Clarence is smitten with her?" "I would not believe such rumours. The Duke is very happy with Mrs. Jordan," Harriet answered. "Now, this is neither here or there. I will have to arrange for moving to London again. I am afraid that will have to wait until tomorrow. May I offer you the hospitality of High Matcham for tonight?" The visitors accepted out of necessity, as it was past three o'clock in the afternoon. Harriet went to notify Mrs. Blacket of the visitors and had two guest rooms readied for them. That done, she sat for a few minutes, re-reading the letter. He had signed it, 'Your Loving Husband'. That in itself lifted Harriet's spirits. The more she thought about the matter, the more her mood lifted. Tony enlisted her help in a matter that was important to him. That was a sure sign that he began to reconsider his stance towards her. If she could only justify his reliance on her, if she could render help to get Mr. O'Shaunessy a pardon, she would regain more of his trust. Harriet was under no illusion. Tony might re-discover his love for her, but his trust in her had to be damaged. Those were different issues, as she was well aware. Yes, she would do her best to help. The two women were another issue. Lady Colton was a widow, and as Tony had written, she might harbour an interest in young Mr. O'Shaunessy. How did Tony know that woman, though? A widow past her mourning year was a dangerous rival, and Tony's affection for Harriet had been severely impaired, at least in the first weeks after leaving London. Siobhan O'Shaunessy was an even greater danger. A young girl, eager to save her brother and sole surviving blood relative, was temptation incarnate for any man. She could be trusted to do literally everything to save her brother. Add to that her fair beauty and proud body, and Harriet was not even sure she could blame Tony for succumbing to such a temptation. She put those thoughts aside with an effort. It was fruitless to fret over the possibility, and it would hinder their common efforts. She rejoined her two visitors just as Nadine Blacket served hot chocolate. The hot, sweet drink seemed to revive Miss O'Shaunessy and she told Harriet of the affair from her own point of view. Once or twice, Harriet caught a look from the young woman she could not place. When Lady Colton who had sat mostly listening left the tea room to take care of a necessity, Siobhan O'Shaunessy took a deep breath. "Lady Carter, may I ask a favour?" "Certainly," Harriet answered. "I am grateful to Lady Colton for her support, but I fear she may develop an interest in me beyond our common purpose. We shared a cabin together, sailing for Southampton, and while nothing overt precipitated, I feel uncomfortable with the way her eyes rest on me." Harriet suppressed a smile, thinking back to the nights she had spent seeking solace in Lucy's embrace. "You must be used to your fair share of attention, my dear Miss O'Shaunessy." "That is true, Lady Carter, and I have received stares even from women before. Only, with Lady Colton I fear she expects something of me in return for her help and assistance. Is it possible for me to have a room of my own for the night? I know, it is presumptuous for I am not..." Harriet had put a hand on the young woman's arm. "You both have separate rooms for the night. It is arranged already." Siobhan O'Shaunessy was blushing, and Harriet could not resist. "Should you find me staring at you, be assured that I expect nothing for my help. It will be merely to admire your looks." An even fiercer blush was the answer. Siobhan's answer was a whisper. "Why would you admire my looks, Lady Carter? You are so beautiful yourself. I, with my crooked nose, cannot hold a candle to you." "Well, for one, my dear Miss O'Shaunessy, let me assure you that the minor imperfection you mention does not detract at all from your beauty which is considerable. Secondly, and knowing men, most will see your hair, your eyes, and your bust, and never even remember you even have a nose." Siobhan had to giggle at that. "So true, Lady Carter. Sometimes, it seems that they speak to my chest, at least that is where their eyes rest." "I can imagine. We shall have to emphasise this further, my dear, to dazzle potential supporters for your petition. Our first order of business will be a visit to Bond Street where my good friend Elisabeth Wilson will fit you with dresses that will display your charms to their utmost advantage." "L-Lady Carter, I-I am not such a woman! I live in Belfast with my aunt, and I am not versed in dazzling men or women." "That is perfectly all right, my dear. Men prefer seemingly naive women; it gives them a feeling of superiority. Never worry though. My mother and I will look after you and protect your reputation. No, you will be your charming self and garner good will for your cause. A fine dress to highlight your looks will only help." Lady Colton entered just then. "That is a very good idea, Lady Carter. Unfortunately, our schedule did not permit a visit to a tailor in Dublin, and a London fashion house will undoubtedly be better suited." Siobhan raised a weak protest. "Lady Carter, Lady Colton, I would not know how to pay for one dress from a London fashion house, let alone for a number of them. We have a few savings, true, but..." Harriet put a calming hand on the youngs woman's arm. "Let that be my worry. After all, my husband instructed me to help your cause, and a few pounds will not worry him overly. Besides, I believe I may be able to enlist Elisabeth Wilson for our cause. She is a warm-hearted woman, and she is our age." "You know Elisabeth Wilson?" Lady Colton asked excitedly. "I only heard of her. She is rather new, isn't she?" "Yes, she opened only two years ago. Before that, she had her shop in Portsmouth. She partnered with Gwendolyn Archer to open her shop on Bond Street." "It may be a good thing that I brought some funds with me. I heard she is fabulous, and I could stand for a renewal of my wardrobe," Lady Colton mused. She turned to Siobhan. "My dear, we shall obtain a royal pardon for your dear brother and have some enjoyment out of it, too." It was a welcome change for Harriet, to have women of her age and stand to dine with. Lady Colton proved to be a witty conversationalist who spoke freely about Dublin's society. From her words, Harriet also got the impression that the woman had led an unhappy life. She had married sixty-year-old General Colton when she was merely seventeen, and she had spent a boring seven years with her ageing husband who doted on her but who clearly was not the right man for a vivacious young woman. After his death, she had spent the mourning year under the righteous supervision of her husband's older sister, and now that she was finally free of those tight reins, she was desperate to experience life. "You were widowed, too?" Lady Colton asked Harriet at one point. Even now, over two years after his death, the thought of Rupert Palmer caused Harriet's eyes to harden. "Yes, I was," she said with bitter undertone. "Suffice it to say, I never mourned him. It is my husband who I always wanted to be with." "You are close to Sir Anthony. Anyone could tell," Lady Colton mused. "You should have seen the ladies of Dublin's society! A hero of Trafalgar fame, still young and well built. They flocked around him. Yet, he would not give them a second look. I can understand that, now that I met you." Lady Colton's words had a mixed impact on Harriet. At first she felt fear when she realised how much Tony must appeal to the ladies, young as he was, a famous officer and, yes, tall and good looking. Then, the second part of Lady Colton's words sunk in. He would not look at those ladies. He was true to her, Harriet. He had not given up on their marriage. The thoughts caused a blissful smile to appear on her face. "Yes, we were meant for each other," she said, but then her face changed and she sobered. "I must not forget this in the future." "That duel?" Lady Colton asked with sympathy. Harriet just nodded, while Siobhan's eyes switched between both women, trying to understand. Harriet saw the look, but she did not feel like explaining. "Let us just say that when you finally find the man with whom you want to live your life, you should always appreciate your luck." Lady Colton laughed ruefully. "I shall remember, should I ever be so lucky." ------- Early the next morning, two carriages were readied and loaded. Harriet was accompanied by her personal maid, Jenny Morgan and Elli, the wetnurse. Mrs. Blacket stayed behind in High Matcham. Lady Colton and Siobhan O'Shaunessy were sitting in Lady Lambert's coach. By early afternoon, they arrived at Cavendish Square. Harriet's father was absent, trying to rally support for the petition among fellow naval officers, as Lady Lambert explained. Chief of all, he would try to enlist the Duke of Clarence who had been a midshipman in HMS Ajax under then Captain Richard Lambert. Lady Lambert agreed that nothing should be done on the tea room front until Siobhan was dressed properly. The same afternoon, they drove to Bond Street. Harriet took over, explaining their quest to Elisabeth Wilson. The daughter of a sailing master and sister of a midshipman (Samuel Wilson was still in the Clyde under Captain Fortescue), Elisabeth could well relate to Siobhan's plight. She made the young woman turn and even loosen her hair, tilting her head. She then had an apprentice bring in bales of cloth, while Ines showed up, taking Siobhan's measurements. Harriet and Siobhan were in agreement that Siobhan's dresses should be modest, showing her as a virtuous young woman, forced into her quest by the fear for her only brother. Elisabeth promised the first dresses to be finished by two days after. Returning to her parents' house, Harriet then wrote a billet to Anita, asking for a meeting. Anita had been performing in the Midlands with her troupe when Tony and Harriet had returned from Barbados, but she had returned to London since. She was a cornerstone to Harriet's plans, for more than one reason. The answer arrived the same evening. Anita invited Harriet to have breakfast at her new home. Harriet wrote an answer, accepting the invitation and warning Anita that she would come accompanied by two friends. In the year of Harriet and Tony's absence, Anita had acquired a two-story house on Chelsey's newly fashionable Cheyne Walk, facing the River Thames. It was certainly a quiet and pleasant place to live, Harriet thought when their carriage arrived there the next morning. Residents were strolling the walk along the river while bakers and grocers were delivering their goods to the houses. Anita welcomed them in her sunny breakfast room which had a view over the river. Harriet hugged and kissed her friend, revelling in the closeness she had missed. She had not known how much she had missed her friend. "It is good to see you again, Darling," Anita said with a smile. "I have missed you, Anita," Harriet answered. "My dear, may I introduce my companions, Lady Colton and Miss O'Shaunessy?" "Miss Heyworth, I cannot say how much it means for me to see you in the flesh!" Lady Colton gushed. Siobhan was less enthusiastic, or maybe, she just was not aware of Anita's fame. "Lady Carter told me that you are England's finest actress. I am honoured to meet you." "Welcome to London, Ladies," Anita replied. A maid came and served coffee, tea and buttered toast bread. While they began to eat, Harriet told about her last year, the stay in Bridgetown, the return journey and the loss of the Santa Trinidad. Blushing a deep scarlet, she confessed her part in the altercation between Tony and General Selkirk. Anita shook her head, obviously saddened, Lady Colton just nodded, having heard the story as gossip, but Siobhan looked at Harriet with surprise. Anita then told them about her tour of the Midlands, in an attempt to change the topic. Anita had been unhappy with the troupe that the promoter had assembled, and she quit the tour in Derby when the promoter could not pay her anymore. "It was a total disaster, my dear," she ended. She looked at her other two guests. "May I ask your purpose in London?" Harriet answered that. "Anita, dear, we came to ask your support for a campaign to obtain a Royal Pardon for Miss O'Shaunessy's brother. Perhaps she can give you the necessary information. I am involved on Tony's urging, as Mr. O'Shaunessy is one of his lieutenants." Anita nodded, and Siobhan began to tell the tale. Anita asked a few pointed questions, and when Siobhan was finished, Harriet produced Tony's letter and showed it to Anita. When she had all the information, Anita nodded. "I'll help you as best I can. I suppose you can use my name to lure people to tea afternoons. You will need somebody with real influence though. How about Lord Brougham?" "I thought about him. I don't think that he will deny me a favour." "No, I suppose he wouldn't. Anyway, let me know when and where I can put in a showing. I could also try to interest Mrs. Jordan, if you think that may help." "She's Irish, isn't she?" Harriet asked tentatively. "Yes, but not so you could guess. She also keeps out of politics," Lady Colton put in. Mrs. Jordan was the maitresse of William Duke of Clarence, King George's third son, and a retired actress. She and the Duke had been living together for over ten years and they had six children. They were fond of each other, and Mrs. Jordan was not one to use her position to gain advantages. Anita nodded sagely. "I know her from her days on the stage. It would be enough if she were to mention Mr. O'Shaunessy's case to the Duke, or better, I could get her to invite me to dinner, and I would bring it up." "How would you do that?" Lady Colton asked, quite astonished. Anita smiled ruefully. "His Royal Highness happens to admire my art. I am positive that he will be delighted to have me for dinner." During the next days, Harriet and her allies laid the groundwork to their campaign. Lord Broughton heard his former daughter in law with sympathy, and although without office, he promised his support in the House of Lords. He also agreed to host one of the soirees where Siobhan O'Shaunessy would seek support for her brother. Anita did her part, too, and four days later, she reported success. The Duke had heard the story of young Lt. O'Shaunessy with sympathy, and he promised to attend one or more of the soirees. He had very limited influence on the current ministry and even less with his father, the King. However, as Admiral of the Fleet, he was not somebody the ministry could ignore altogether. The first evening reception was held at Lambert House, and they all counted it as success afterwards. Printed copies of the Petition for Pardon were handed out, together with a printed account of the trial, whereby the impossibility of the charges was recounted. On the other hand, Harriet and her mother encountered many cold shoulders from important officials and from members of Parliament. A court of law had found O'Shaunessy guilty. Why question the verdict? Officials in particular feared to open that Box of Pandora. By two weeks after the arrival of Siobhan and Lady Colton, their campaign to win a Royal Pardon was not gaining momentum and a number of original backers were now losing interest or even changing sides in the face of political pressure. Harriet and her consorts were undaunted, though. Anita was supportive, Lady Lambert was pulling strings wherever she could, and Harriet was pursuing their goal with a doggedness borne of her fear to disappoint Tony. Siobhan O'Shaunessy was becoming the greatest asset. She was losing her shyness in front of people and her oratory in favour of her misjudged brother became engaging. It helped that Anita had coached her speech, but more important was the conviction the young Irishwoman exuded. Lord Brougham was keeping word, too. This evening, he was having a soiree at his house, assembling a large group of important men and women in his house. When Harriet and her friends arrived, Lord Brougham gave her an encouraging smile and announced her personally to his guests, stressing that his daughter in law had his full support. The one person Harriet had never expected to see was General Selkirk. Nevertheless, he was there, perhaps moving a bit haltingly and forsaking the pompous bearing Harriet had come to hate in their early days in Bridgetown. Seeing Harriet, he came over and bowed. "Your servant, Lady Carter," he offered. "I am relieved to see you. I want to thank you for your kind letter and for the very handsome apology you offered." "I-I felt it was something I had to do," Harriet responded, quite flustered. "Please, Lady Carter, believe me that I would give anything to turn back the time to your arrival on Barbados. I started it all with my effrontery; had I been more courteous, all this terrible business would have never come to pass." "I believe we all have things to regret," Harriet answered ruefully. "I trust that you have recovered from your wounds?" "Almost. It would appear that my pride suffers the most these days. It had been nigh on two decades since a man bested me with the sword. And your husband? I trust he is not feeling any discomfort anymore?" "To guess from his letters, no, although this says nothing. He fought at Trafalgar with a barely healed leg wound." "A worthy opponent. A pity we can never be friends after what happened. Are you making headway with your petition?" "We have supporters and we have opponents," Harriet answered, trying not to show weakness. "So I hear. Madam, would you allow me to align myself with your supporters? I hear young Mr. O'Shaunessy is an Antrim man which is my own home county, and I fear no Antrim man will get a fair trial in Dublin." Harriet did her best to mask her surprise. Thoughts were racing through her mind. Selkirk had influence. If he could get an Admiral recalled, he could certainly further a small petition. But why would he help them? And could she, Harriet, accept help from the man she blamed for Amanda's death? Then she realised that her new friend, Siobhan, would be devastated if her brother was transported to New South Wales. It was true: Siobhan O'Shaunessy and Harriet had become fast friends in just two weeks. Harriet swallowed her pride. "If you could find it in your heart to help an innocent, loyal man and his poor sister, then you would earn our gratitude. Let me introduce my friends." She called Siobhan and Lady Colton, introduced them to Selkirk and explained his offer of support. Siobhan blushed and curtseyed, knowing full well that Harriet resented the man. "My brother and I should be grateful for your help, General. He is loyal to King George and he was mixed up with conspirators unwittingly." "I hear Old Melrose's son presented the case for the crown. If he is as worthless as his father, it will be a pleasure to thwart his schemes. You may count on my support, Miss O'Shaunessy, and I will strive to win over more of my friends. That much I owe to a loyal Ulster man." Later that evening, Siobhan caught Harriet alone. She pressed Harriet's hand. "Thank you! I know how much you resent Mr. Selkirk. You were polite to him for Michael's sake. That was noble of you." Harriet felt her face heat. "I-I just feel that we have become friends and how could I hurt my friend to satisfy an old, petty grudge?" "You are sweet. I sincerely hope that you and Sir Anthony will be reconciled soon." "Would that be soon," Harriet sighed. General Selkirk was true to his word. Within a week's time, the sugar faction in Parliament was backing the petition to grant a Royal Pardon to Lieutenant O'Shaunessy. More support was coming when Sir Robert Norton, alerted by a letter from Tony, added his own weight to the scales. Through Sir Robert, they were introduced to the editor of the Anti-Gallican, one of the newspapers closest to the government. In an interview with the editor, Mr. Hookham-Frere, Harriet delivered her best performance in their campaign, warning him of the dire consequences for the war effort should Irish officers come to feel that their loyal service counted naught even in the face of unfounded accusations. Two days later, the Anti-Gallican printed a lead article bemoaning the fact that the Irish gentry might be estranged from the Crown at this critical time in the war against Napoleon if loyalty was not rewarded or even taken into account. Another two days after that, Harriet received a return visit from Mr. Hookham-Frere. He gave to understand that he came as emissary of the Prime Minister who wanted to know whether she would stop her campaign if 'young Mr. O'Shaunessy' was pardoned to a fine of sixty pound sterling. Emboldened, Harriet haggled mercilessly, sensing that the affair was growing into an embarrassment for the ministry. In the end, with an open-mouthed Siobhan and a smiling Lady Colton in attendance, a deal was struck. Michael O'Shaunessy would receive a full pardon, a written apology from Melrose, and he would be reinstated as officer in the Royal Navy. When Hookham-Frere insisted on him being posted away from the British Isles to forestall a possible duel between him and Melrose, Harriet made an independent command for O'Shaunessy her condition, to avoid the impression that his qualities as officer were wanting. They settled on the command of a sloop-of-war, headed for the West Indies. Fortunately, King George was in his good senses at the time, and a Royal Pardon was signed three days later. At the same time, orders were written to Lt. Michael O'Shaunessy, Esq., to report to Portsmouth with utmost despatch, where he would take command of H.M. sloop Hornet, of 16 guns, to join the West Indian squadron. On the same evening, the Lamberts hosted a celebratory soiree in their house to which all those were invited who had helped sway H.M. government. Once again, Harriet had to swallow her misgivings and express her thanks to Brig. Gen. Selkirk. An overjoyed Siobhan addressed the guests to thank them, and she had never been better looking, beaming with happiness and relief. The evening also occasioned an unexpected development. Lady Colton had as table partner a Mr. Pennington, the second son of a Jamaican sugar planter, who sat in Parliament for one of the 'rotten boroughs' owned by his father. He was in his late twenties, an extremely good looking man of dark hair and complexion, and Lady Colton found herself head over heels in love before the evening was over. Her crush for Michael O'Shaunessy had suffered anyway, with the prospect of his posting to the West Indies, but when Mr. Pennington bade his farewell, a blushing Lady Colton informed Siobhan that she would not return to Ireland with her. Poor Siobhan was daunted at the prospect of travelling back to Dublin on her own and presenting the Royal Pardon to the Lord Lieutenant, but she was too grateful to Lady Colton to complain. At breakfast, the next morning, she voiced her apprehensions to Harriet and to Lady Lambert, though. Lady Lambert gave her daughter a sly look. "Harriet, my dear, would that not be a splendid opportunity to see Tony again, after achieving what he asked of you? I do not see why Richard and Emily cannot stay with me for a few weeks; on the contrary, I shall be more than happy to have them." Harriet was apprehensive. "I do not know, mother. He has not asked me to join him, yet." "Nonsense! You are accompanying young Miss O'Shaunessy, to make sure the Royal Pardon is delivered to the right personage. Once young Mr. O'Shaunessy is free, you will then travel north to Armagh, to look after a property we inherited from my cousin Jeremiah Duncan. It has been in our possession for over two years, but it is impractical to hold on to it. You will arrange for its sale in our name. Once you are in Dublin on your return journey, Tony can make his own move and meet you. He'll be happy for the chance, believe me." Harriet was still dubious, but now Siobhan joined in. "Oh, would you, please? My brother should really meet his benefactress upon his release." "Don't call me that," Harriet protested, although she felt a warm glow of achievement. "How does one travel to Dublin anyway?" "By ship," Lady Lambert answered. "One can take a stagecoach to Bristol or even to Liverpool, but that is not advisable with the poor condition of the roads. I know that there is regular service from Southampton to Dublin." "Are you certain, Mother, that this is what I should do?" "Harriet, you have to see Tony again, and soon. The longer you are apart, the more estranged you will become. Now go and arrange for travel. Take that spawn of a pirate with you; I don't trust her under my roof." That latter sentence was not true. Lady Lambert harboured no distrust towards Jenny Morgan. She knew that Harriet relied on the girl's quick wit and fearless nature and let her run important errands. With a sigh, Harriet relented. Lady Lambert called for her coachman and bade him prepare the travel coach for a ride to Southampton. Later in the day, Sir Richard joined in the planning, and to everyone's surprise, he insisted on accompanying the women. "I cannot be ignored by the Lord Lieutenant's staff when I visit Dublin," he reasoned. "I also have things to discuss with Anthony." "What things, Father?" Harriet queried immediately. "Your husband has stepped onto a few sensitive toes with his testimony in O'Shaunessy's trial. Both the Lord Justice and the Crown Attorney have complained with the Admiralty. It's hogwash, to be sure, but my friends agree with me that he should no longer be stationed in Dublin. There is an opening in Sir Charles Cotton's squadron, off the Iberian peninsula. Fanning will get two additional frigates for his squadron, instead." Harriet's face fell. "The Spanish coast?" she asked weakly. "Yes, that and the Portuguese coast. That's why I need to speak him. If he is in agreement, I could arrange for you to take residence in Gibraltar. My old shipmate, Captain Tushingham, lives there in retirement, and he will help you find quarters, I am sure. This is all on condition that your husband agrees, of course." "Can I still see him first, in Dublin?" Harriet asked anxiously. "Of course. I will bear those orders and explain things to Fanning." "I would love to live in Gibraltar, if only to see Tony when he comes to port. He'll come to port, won't he?" "Cotton has to send in his ships in to replenish their stores every two or three months." "Thank you, Father. This is much better than I feared," Harriet sighed. She would see Tony in port every two months. In that, she would be more than fortunate compared with the wives of other naval officers, she knew. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 7: Meeting Captain Trilby They had to wait in Southampton for two days before they found shipping to Dublin. It was a well founded two-masted brig that had three cabins for passengers. To be true, only one was for passengers, but the master-owner of the brig thought it wise to let his puny cabin to a full admiral. At least on this journey, his crew would be safe from the pressgangs he reasoned. There was only one, admittedly roomy, cot in their cabin which Harriet and Siobhan would have to share, while a hammock was rigged for Jenny. Harriet was far too excited though to mind the bedfellow. They sailed down The Solent with the running ebb stream, and due to the prevailing westerly wind, they rounded the Isle of Wight to the east, running close-hauled across the Channel past Guernsey. From there, it was another leg towards Plymouth. They sailed a south-westerly course from there until they were due south of Penzance. From there, they had a fair wind for their northern course, sailing west of the Scilly Isles and then into the Irish Sea. It was a five-day journey, all told, in pleasant weather conditions. Sailing up the River Liffey, Harriet could already see that Asia was out at sea. No ship her size could be seen at the anchorage. She felt a little disappointment but she reasoned that she would return to Dublin within two or three weeks. It was early afternoon, and the first order of business was to find quarters. Sir Richard saw to that, finding rooms in the largest inn, the Royal Crown. It was too late for an interview with the Lord Lieutenant, but they visited Michael O'Shaunessy in the garrison. He was not in his old holding cell anymore, but he had been transferred to a gaol where he awaited his transport. It was not possible to visit him there. The women and Sir Richard resigned themselves. It was not yet nine o' clock on the next morning when Sir Richard entered Dublin Castle, asking for an interview with the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Richmond. The Duke was still in his early forties, a tall and erect figure with a background in the Army. Yet, he had served in the West Indies and co-operated with Navy forces under then Vice-Admiral Sir Richard Lambert, and they greeted each other as old friends. His appointment to Lord Lieutenant, or more colloquially to Viceroy, was a recent one and he was not yet familiar with everything in his sphere of influence. Sir Richard quickly came to the purpose of his visit, explaining the reasons why he had become involved in Michael O'Shaunessy's case and the reasons why H.M. ministry viewed the verdict against him as less than helpful. The Duke creased his brows when he heard about the obvious lies of the main informer, and he nodded with sympathy when Sir Richard told of the effort of O'Shaunessy's sister to clear her brother's name. Sir Richard then handed over the sealed Royal Pardon. The Duke broke the seal and read it quickly. He then rang the bell for his secretary and had that worthy man notify the Governor of Dublin Prison that Mr. O'Shaunessy had to be set free without delay, into the care of Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. Sir Richard was told to allow for the transmission of this order and to pick up 'his young man' after noon. Sir Richard accepted the invitation to a glass of the Viceroy's finest brandy, and they sat in amiable friendship, exchanging news and opinions. It was more than an hour later when Sir Richard returned to their lodgings and informed the young women of the Viceroy's reaction. The bell of a nearby church announced the second hour when Sir Richard, Siobhan, and Harriet arrived at the prison gates in a rented landauer carriage. Sir Richard then stalked to the entrance and demanded to have Mr. O'Shaunessy delivered to him. To his annoyance, he was informed that the governor was at home and would not be back before the next morning, if at all. It took another quarter-hour before he could impress the need to summon the governor upon the chief warder. The man arrived a half hour later, half drunk and in an ugly mood. The full admiral's uniform, the chivalrous title, and most importantly, the commanding presence of Sir Richard soon made him subservient, though. At his snarled command, two warders hastened to retrieve the prisoner O'Shaunessy, and they returned within a few minutes. A dishevelled Michael O'Shaunessy was walking between them, his clothes in tatters and his face bruised. Sir Richard's eyes narrowed, but he kept his outward calmness. "Lieutenant O'Shaunessy, I am Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. Captain Sir Anthony Carter is my son-in-law, and I involved myself on his asking." "I have seen you, Sir Richard, when you came aboard the Asia." "Quite. I bring good news. His Majesty King George, by the grace of God King of Great Britain and Ireland, has recognised your past valiant and loyal service. He has also, in his wisdom, recognised the falseness of the accusations levied at you. He has deigned to issue a full pardon for you, reinstating you to your previous station and privileges." O'Shaunessy took a ragged breath. "There is a God in heaven!" he exclaimed. "When can I leave this place of horror?" "In this very minute. His Excellency the Lord Lieutenant has ordered your immediate release." O'Shaunessy turned to the governor. "My watch and my other possessions, if you please!" The governor turned purple. "Your possessions, young man, are forfeit!" "No, they are not!" Sir Richard interjected with authority. "Hand over Mr. O'Shaunessy's personal property!" It was not much the governor retrieved from a strongbox. A silver-plated watch, a miniature painting of a woman, a pocket knife with a mother of pearl handle, and a golden ring were all that was left. O'Shaunessy's uniform coat had been sold already, and what money he had owned had been lost even before he was incarcerated in the prison. "We have retrieved your sea chest from Lady Colton's house whereto Mr. Dougherty had sent it for safe-keeping," Sir Richard consoled the young man. "Lady Colton has been most helpful to your cause, as have a number of other personages. Let us leave, though, so you can change into appropriate clothing. I took the liberty of reserving a private room for you in the Royal Crown." "Again, my heartfelt thanks, Sir Richard! Those last weeks have been like hell on earth." "I can quite imagine your plight, Lieutenant. Let us rush, though, for your poor sister must be beside herself in her worry." O'Shaunessy regarded his clothing with dismay, and Sir Richard could not help but smile. "Never worry about outward appearances, Mr. O'Shaunessy. The way I have come to know your sister, she will not mind your at all." Indeed, Siobhan O'Shaunessy did not mind in the least. Once O'Shaunessy emerged from the prison gate, she flew into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, while she gushed out the story of how they had obtained his pardon. Sir Richard and Harriet looked upon the siblings with feelings of achievement. Finally, Michael O'Shaunessy became aware of Harriet. "Lady Carter, my sister has told me of your unselfish help and care for her. I thank you most humbly and from the bottom of my heart." Harriet smiled happily. "Think not of it, my dear Mr. O'Shaunessy! You did me an important service first when you assisted me against those ruffians. Also, I have won a dear friend in your sister. Now let us leave this horrid place in haste so you may recuperate from your undeserved ordeal!" O'Shaunessy insisted on sitting with the driver lest his saviours might suffer the pungent smell of his tatters in the confinement of the coach. Once they arrived at the Royal Crown, the servants rushed to ready a hot bath for him to submerge himself in while they burnt his ruined clothes. Meantime, Siobhan laid out fresh clothes for him and when he joined their party for supper, he was once again an officer and gentleman in appearance, save for the bruises he had suffered. During the supper, Sir Richard explained the conditions of the pardon and handed the young officer his orders. O'Shaunessy was slightly dismayed at first as he had welcomed the posting to Asia as a chance to see his sister more often, but he saw the wisdom behind the overseas posting as well as the chances. Once again, he thanked his benefactors, and he gave his word of honour that he would not seek contact with Mr. Melrose. Sir Richard was content with that reasoning that it was primarily in Melrose's interest and responsibility to stay out of O'Shaunessy's way. For the next two days, the siblings spent as much time together as possible while the lieutenant looked for transport to Portsmouth. There was a packet ship readying for sea in Dublin, but she would sail north first, to touch Belfast, before she would sail for Portsmouth. Presented with a chance to visit his aunt in Belfast and to see his sister back into her care, O'Shaunessy agreed to sail in the packet, with Siobhan to accompany him as far as Belfast. Harriet was dismayed at first over losing her newly found friend Siobhan so soon. The Asia would not put to port again before another two weeks as she had already found out. During lunch, however, an idea came up that would solve Harriet's problems. Armagh was much closer to Belfast than to Dublin. Sailing for Belfast first would halve the distance to be travelled overland, and the travel would be made over the roads of Ulster where British rule met with far greater acceptance. Once the idea was there, more reasons came up in favour of it. Siobhan offered to accompany Harriet and claimed acquaintance with the owner of a reliable poste chaise service in Belfast. She also invited Harriet cordially to visit with her aunt who, no doubt, would welcome a lady so instrumental in the rehabilitation of her nephew. Taken together, the idea was approved by everybody, even by Sir Richard who welcomed it for other reasons. After securing a cabin in the Belfast packet, Harriet packed hastily, and by late afternoon she sailed from Dublin with the O'Shaunessies, once again sharing a cabin with Siobhan. The excitement of the voyage and the events of the past days served to keep both young women talking late into the night while the two-masted vessel dashed northward, driven by a lively westerly wind. The short, choppy waves made for an uncomfortable sailing, but the women bore it with good humour. Once Jenny was sent to sleep - she shared a dingy cabin with two other maidservants - the two young women still talked animatedly. From the recent events, talk shifted to their earlier lives. Harriet told her friend of the days in the Mary Anne's longboat when she fell in love with a young Anthony Carter. She briefly touched her ill-fated marriage to Rupert Palmer. She told of her friendship with Lucy, and the confession slipped from her mouth how they had dallied with each other to relieve their loneliness. Only when the words had left her mouth, Harriet blushed deeply, realising how this confession would scare her companion. In the flickering light of the tallow lamp, she saw something different. It was a look of longing she discovered in Siobhan's eyes. "I had a girlfriend, too, back in Ballycastle," she told Harriet. "Her name was Deirdre, and she was the daughter of the Duke's caretaker. We had played together since childhood, and we still met Sunday afternoons. I remember how she told me that young Mr. Holland had kissed her, and I felt at once jealous and curious. I asked her how it had been, and she - she showed me. It was ever so sweet and exciting. For the next weeks and months, we practised kissing every Sunday, until Mr. Holland spoke for her with Deirdre's father. She told me then that she could not kiss me anymore." There was sadness in Siobhan's voice as she ended her tale. Her eyes showed an unreadable expression as she watched Harriet's face. She drew a deep breath. "Is it different when you kiss a man?" she queried. Harriet pressed her friend's hand. "I have only kissed one man in my life, and his kisses are different from those I shared with my friend Lucy. There is more passion in them, they are more demanding, more urgent. It is hard to describe, I fear." "But weren't you married before? Surely, you have kissed your first husband?" Harriet shook her head grimly. "Rupert Palmer knew better than to get anywhere close to my teeth!" she stated, her hatred of her first husband still permeating her voice. "No, I only kissed one man and two women, Lucy and Moira. You met her, Moira Palmer." "Oh yes, is she ever beautiful!" Siobhan blurted, remembering the black eyed daughter-in-law of Lord Broughton. "Did you ... Did you and Miss Heyworth?" Harriet shook her head, more at ease now. "No, there was never any dalliance with Anita. You see, she was Anthony's paramour at that time, and this would have been too complicated. And you, have you ever kissed a woman other than your Deirdre?" Siobhan shook her head. "I never felt the attraction again until ... I believe Lady Colton would have, and I am ever grateful to her, but I never felt anything for her like for ... For Deirdre." Harriet noticed that Siobhan left something unsaid. The light from the lantern was unsteady and deceiving, but still, Harriet was certain that her companion was blushing fiercely. She placed a hand on Siobhan's arm and the young Irishwoman could not help but gasp and shiver. "Siobhan, do you want to kiss me?" she asked bluntly, but with a gentleness in her voice that encouraged her bedfellow. Siobhan was unable to speak, but she nodded, her eyes riveted on Harriet's mouth. Harriet felt a short stab of her conscience, but then she shrugged inwardly. Tony had never expressed any jealousy over her intimate friendship with Lucy; why would he object to a kiss with Siobhan? She also became aware of her own, strong desires. After Richard's birth, she and Tony had not coupled at first to give her a chance to heal. Then, the Asia was ordered back, and Harriet had to berth alone in the John Carter. In London, she had just started her period when they came shore, and then, their disagreement had driven them apart. In short, Harriet had not enjoyed any but self-inflicted pleasures for almost a year. Tentatively, she reached out for Siobhan's face and caressed her cheek. The young woman leant into the touch, and Harriet forgot everything for a moment when their lips touched. Clearly, Siobhan had received some solid tutoring from the girl Deirdre, Harriet decided. All shyness fell off the Irishwoman as she returned Harriet's kiss with vigour and finesse. Harriet felt lightheaded and she had to suppress a moan that wanted to leave her throat. Harriet's hand sought and found the soft swell of Siobhan's bosom, covered only by the thin layer of the calico shirt she wore, and Siobhan's breath caught in her throat. "You are touching my - breast!" she whispered with an inflection of awe in her voice. "I am," Harriet whispered back. "Does that bother you?" "No. No! Only, nobody ever touched me there." Harriet continued the gentle caresses of Siobhan's breast, using her thumb to graze over the protruding nipple. "You like that, don't you?" she whispered into Siobhan's open mouth. "Oh, yes!" Siobhan whimpered back, her hand seeking Harriet's body now, running up and down her back. "Shall I touch you, too?" "I should love that, Siobhan," Harriet answered with a hint of a chuckle. "Your boob feels nice under my hand." "My what?" Siobhan giggled. "Your booby, your breast," Harriet chuckled. "It's so full and proud! I envy you." By now, Siobhan's exploring hand had found Harriet's breasts. They were fuller now, after Richard's birth, than before, but they were still firm and pointy, and Siobhan's hand caused a delightful tingle. "Am I doing it right?" Siobhan asked tentatively. For an answer, Harriet kissed her friend again and let her tongue explore Siobhan's mouth. She hovered over the younger woman now, her leg thrown over Siobhan's, and her mound pressed against a thigh. She pressed her own thigh against Siobhan's mound, and within heart beats, the two young women were grinding their lower bodies against each other's thighs. "Oh, my! Oh, dear!" Siobhan panted over the novel sensations. Yet, she was a quick learner, Harriet found, giving as well as she received. Harriet found her passion to rise quickly now and she threw caution to the wind. Her free hand moved down to the hem of Siobhan's shirt and back up, over hot skin. When Harriet's hand closed over the the naked flesh of her friend's full breast, Siobhan whimpered and bucked against Harriet's thigh. Her legs clamped around it, and Harriet felt the frantic humping as Siobhan had a strong release. When the spasms subsided, the young Irishwoman fell limp under Harriet, looking up at her with an expression of awe. "I've never felt the likes of this," she whispered incredulously. "Was this... ?" "The French call it, 'Le petit mort', the little death," Harriet explained in a hushed voice. "Sometimes, when the feelings are quite strong, you can even pass out from enjoyment. Yours was not quite as strong." She smiled mischievously. "It must have been quite good, though, for a first time." "It felt like I was falling endlessly," Siobhan whispered. She turned worried, next. "Am I a - deviant woman now?" This caused Harriet to laugh. She checked herself quickly. Although the creaking of the timbers around them had masked the panting and low moans sufficiently, Harriet suddenly became aware that Siobhan's brother was just a bulkhead away from them. She continued in a whisper. "No, my sweet girl. Many women give comfort and enjoyment to each other while their husbands are away from England. I still crave my Anthony's touch, and I should bet that a skilful man can bring you to even greater heights of lust." "I would not know that," Siobhan answered dejectedly. "No man has yet touched my heart. What if I love women over men?" "That's not something to worry over just yet, my dearest Siobhan. Let us cuddle closely now, for I feel tired. Once we have had our sleep, we can talk more. Right now, I want to feel your body close to mine, for comfort and warmth." This was something Siobhan did not object to, and soon the two friends fell asleep in each other's arms. They arrived in Belfast in late afternoon the next day. The packet would not sail before the next morning, and so Michael O'Shaunessy was able to accompany his sister and Harriet to his aunt's home. The Widow Margaret Fitzmaurice née O'Shaunessy was overjoyed, learning of the rehabilitation of her nephew. She had no children of her own. Her husband, Captain Duncan Fitzmaurice, had lost his life to diphtheria only months into their marriage, and she had gladly taken in her brother's orphaned children, raising them as her own. She welcomed Harriet as her nephew's saviour, and she would not be deterred by Harriet's protestations. Harriet's idea of finding lodgings in an inn was roundly rejected, too, and she found herself lodged in Mrs. Fitzmaurice' best sleeping chamber for the night. There was no sleeping, though, before they had recounted all the events and all the people who had helped obtaining the Royal Pardon for Michael O'Shaunessy. Time and again, Mrs. Fitzmaurice had to find the bottle of 'her finest', to fill glasses and to toast her nephew's benefactors. Harriet felt more than a little intoxicated when she bade good night to her hostess and her friends. Jenny helped her undress and lie down, and that was the last Harriet remembered of the day. When Harriet woke, it was late in the morning, and Michael O'Shaunessy had already left. Mrs. Fitzmaurice served breakfast, urging Harriet to eat, claiming that she was too thin. Siobhan rolled her eyes behind her aunt's back, causing Harriet to giggle in response. After breakfast, the two women, accompanied by Jenny, set out to hire a post chaise. They found a likely proprietor of such services, and Siobhan took over the negotiations. A price was agreed upon, and a time was set for the carriage to pick them up at Mrs. Fitzmaurice' house. The rented cab then took them back, and Siobhan used the opportunity to show Harriet a little of Belfast. A centre of linen manufacturing, Belfast was not small by any means, but lacking in any imposing structures and landmarks. It was a busy town and prosperous, but unpretentious. In the afternoon, Harriet and Siobhan took a stroll to the harbour, to find out about packets sailing for Dublin a week hence. Harriet made a reservation in a vessel scheduled to sail eight days later, as she was eager to be back in time for Asia's return to port. With a day of preparation, Mrs. Fitzmaurice was able to surpass her cooking of the evening before, although the 'bottle of my finest' remained corked, as neither of the women felt like imbibing again. Harriet still slept well until Jenny woke her at sunrise the next morning. After another filling breakfast, Harriet boarded the post chaise with Siobhan and Jenny, and they were bound for Armagh. Once they left Belfast behind, the scenery became pleasant enough, and the day passed in more chatter. Harriet tried to include Jenny in the talk. It was one of her projects, to better Jenny's education and to have her speak proper English at least, and in this she was making rapid progress. Gone was the colourful sailor's talk, and those watching the girl would never suspect her to have been a member - if unwilling - of a pirate's crew. Jenny was suffering under the separation from her sweetheart who was still serving in the Asia and would do so for quite a while, and she kept Harriet company with fervour, always hoping that Eric Johnsen would be in Sir Anthony's gig when the Captain came ashore to see his wife. Thus, the morning flew by quickly. The towns they passed through, Lisburn, Moira, and lastly, Lurgan, were the heart of the Irish Linen manufacturing, with straight, well organised streets. Harriet made a note to herself to purchase a set of quality linen on the return journey. They stopped for the night in a roadside inn in Lurgan. It was close to the supper bell when their post chaise drew up, and Harriet with her companions soon sat at the best table in the common room while their coachman preferred the tap room. Three women, travelling alone, drew the attention of the patrons. Several men came by, bowing politely and asking if they needed help. Harriet let Siobhan handle those men, and the young Irishwoman thanked them and insured them that they were fine. One young fellow, however, would not heed Siobhan's polite rebuke. Unasked, he sat down at their table and signalled the landlord for a mug of ale. "Don't tell me three pretty ladies have no need for protection and assistance," he postured, looking about to make sure that his cronies, sitting at the next table, heard him. Harriet decided reluctantly to end this herself. "Yet, my companion speaks truth," she spoke with determination. "I should ask you to leave our table, which you joined without being asked and without the politeness to ask for permission." "Oh, a real lady, aye?" the young man sneered. "Indeed I am. I am Lady Carter, wife of Captain Sir Anthony Carter, and I ask you to remove yourself." "Get yourself up from that table, Clanton!" the landlord said. "I'll not have you molest my guests." The young man sneered at the landlord. "What if I don't want to? Are you going to force me? I think not! My father would quickly show you your place." "That's quite enough, Clanton," an authoritative voice cut in. "Get up and leave, for if you refuse, I shall see you out." The man who spoke was tall and well built. Flaxen hair framed a handsome face and contrasted nicely with the scarlet uniform of a dragoon. From the lapels, Harriet recognised him to be a captain. The young man named Clanton started to answer, but seemingly decided to cut his losses, rather than challenging a King's officer outright. He stood, shrugged his shoulders, and gave an ironic bow to Harriet and her companions. Then he swaggered from the common room, three of his cronies in tow. Harriet looked up at the captain, giving him a friendly smile. "Thank you, Captain, for delivering us from that uncouth man." "It has been my pleasure, Lady Carter. I am Captain George Trilby, of the Portadown dragoons. I am sorry you had to meet our local nuisance." "Why don't you sit with us for a moment, Captain," Harriet invited him. "Contrary to appearance, we are not averse to company, but we reserve the right to choose our table companions." "Thank you, Lady Carter," Trilby answered, a smile appearing on his boyish face. He looked at Siobhan and Jenny. "May I ask your names, too, ladies?" "I am Siobhan O'Shaunessy, of the Ballycastle O'Shaunessies," Siobhan answered, with a slight note of irritation in her voice. "My name is Jenny Morgan, Sir, but I'm no lady. I'm Lady Carter's maidservant," Jenny added, blushing slightly. Trilby gave both young women his boyish smile, a smile that froze slightly when he sat and regarded Siobhan fully, without a lamp shade between them. He cleared his throat, obviously trying to overcome a fluster. "May I ask whereto you are travelling, Lady Carter?" he asked politely. "I have business in Armagh for my father, Admiral Sir Richard Lambert," she answered, still smiling at the handsome young officer. It seemed that it was not Harriet's smile that flustered Captain Trilby, for he was ready to smile back. "Another five to six hours tomorrow should see you there, Lady Carter. Are you planning to leave early?" "Why, Captain? Are you offering your protection?" Siobhan queried, not quite friendly. Trilby laughed at her. "If asked to escort you, I would feel honoured. However, to give truth the honour, the road to Armagh is quite safe. My accompanying you would be solely for my own benefit." "Pray what benefit, Captain?" Siobhan shot back, for some reason agitated. "A young officer will only benefit from having courteous intercourse with ladies of breeding," he answered, giving Siobhan an ironic wink. Before Siobhan could give the sharp answer she obviously planned, Jenny giggled. The other three looked at her, and the giggle stopped while Jenny blushed scarlet. "What caused your merriment, my dear Jenny?" Harriet asked curiously. "I ... It sounded droll how the Captain said that, as if he counted me among the ladies, begging your pardon." Jenny competed with the hearth fire, the way her face glowed. Trilby looked at her with an amused smile. "I meant to speak in jest, parodying my old headmaster." "Pray, Captain, since when are school boys posted as officers of the dragoons?" Siobhan inquired, a touch snide. Again, Trilby smiled and winked when he answered. "I may be the only one, Miss O'Shaunessy. You should get along with my father were he still alive. He used to say that I was slow in growing up. May I ask you own business in Armagh, Miss?" "I have none save for to accompany my dear friend and benefactor, and I shall gladly answer any such questions as a well-behaved gentleman may feel justified to ask." Harriet raised an eyebrow at Siobhan's obvious belligerence, but Trilby appeared unfazed. "Alas, Miss O'Shaunessy, while I may lay claim to being a gentleman - which some may dispute even - 'well-behaved' is not the attribute most people associate with my person. But perhaps, I am only moulding my own behaviour after your example?" "Would you care to explain that, Captain?" The boyish grin left his face. "Miss O'Shaunessy, I interceded on your behalf, no doubt doing you a favour when that Clanton lout molested you." "Oh dear, how manly! You certainly put that fearsome man into his place! I am sure, a knighthood is waiting for you!" "My dear Siobhan," Harriet interceded. "The Captain is right. He has done us a service, and we should be grateful and not snide. I am sorry, Captain. It would seem that my companion is less than receptive to your jesting ways. I, for my part, will be more than happy to see you again." Trilby checked himself and smiled again. "It is my bad luck, Lady Carter, that the women I covet are the least tolerant of my character. My apologies to you, too, Miss O'Shaunessy, and I shall take my leave." With that he stood, bowed politely, and left the common room. Harriet looked at Siobhan in amusement. The young woman was steaming with anger. "What an assuming lout!" she vented her feelings. "He can covet my backside!" Harriet almost exploded in laughter. With an effort she checked herself and whispered in Siobhan's ear. "I would think he is doing that, too. It is, after all, a delightful backside." Siobhan turned pink. She sputtered for a few seconds but was unable to answer. Harriet put a soothing hand on her friend's arm. "He got up your gander, didn't he?" "That, that impertinent, English ... Jack-a-dandy!" Siobhan expostulated. "Yes, he is rather good-looking, wouldn't you agree?" Harriet needled her friend. "Insufferable is more the word I'd use to describe him!" Siobhan huffed, slowly composing herself again. Harriet let it be then, and they finished their supper without further reference to Captain Trilby. They had the best room of the tavern, but they had to share it. Since the night on board the packet, Harriet and Siobhan had not had the time for a repeat of their tryst, and barely enough time alone to talk about it. Now, with Jenny sleeping on a straw mattress in the same room, there was no privacy either. Harriet and Siobhan shared the large bed, though, and once Jenny extinguished the light, Harriet reached for Siobhan's hand. To her surprise, she found that Siobhan flinched under her touch. "I'm sorry," Harriet whispered, at a sudden loss over what she felt as rejection. Siobhan quickly gripped the hand, pressing it. "It's not that," Siobhan whispered back. "I don't know what it is with me today. I was in thought and you startled me, that is all." Suddenly, Harriet knew. After all, she had once felt indignation over the good-looking, seemingly insufferable second mate of the Anne Mary. Siobhan was attracted to Captain Trilby, but she did not know or acknowledge it, least of all know what to do about it. "Never mind, my dear," she assured her friend. "We had a tiring day and we should sleep anyway. Good night." Once more she pressed Siobhan's hand, and this time, Siobhan responded in kind. "I am very grateful for your friendship," Siobhan whispered. In Harriet's view, the breakfast left a few things to be desired, and they left the tavern early. Before they left, Harriet renewed the charges of her pistol, mindful of her father's advice that a pistol without reliable charge was a danger to its owner. Siobhan had shown a little resentment, the day before, when she discovered that Harriet was armed, maintaining that her home country was as safe a place to travel as England. To that, Harriet responded truthfully that she would travel armed in England, too. The post chaise had not been on its way for more than a half hour when Harriet suddenly heard the coachman break out in curses. He applied the brakes, too, and Harriet had her hands full to stay seated. "What in the devil's name is that?" she heard the angry shouting of the coachman, followed by a short cry of agony. "It's them men from the tavern!" Jenny exclaimed, having peered through the curtains. "They's held up the coach!" An icy feeling washed over Harriet, but she controlled herself. Her hands were steady when she pulled the pistol from its resting place under her cloak and cocked one barrel. Indeed, a moment later, the man they knew as Clanton thrust his head through the window. "Well, hello!" he crowed triumphantly. "Seems like we have the chance to deepen our acquaintance now." This was as far as he came. Before Harriet could even lift the pistol, Jenny sprang into action. Her left hand shot out to grab Clanton's necktie. Pulling him in, her right hand held a wicked-looking dagger to the man's throat. "Hold still," she hissed at the surprised would-be highwayman. "Lest you want me to cut your throat, you better put both your hands on the window frame. Tell your friends to step away from the coach! Now!" Clanton squeaked when the sharp knife edge pressed against his Adam's apple, drawing blood. He rolled his eyes, trying to look into Jenny's face, and what he saw in her eyes made him whimper. "Boys, step back! The bitch is holding a knife to my throat. She'll kill me for sure!" "What?" "Are you serious?" "You bungling idiot!" They could hear the voices of at least three men outside. Carefully, Harriet peered through the opposite window, holding the pistol ready. It was good she did, for a hand shot through the curtain, trying to grab her throat. Almost involuntarily, Harriet fired through the thin wood of the coach, and she heard a cry of pain from outside. "Argh! Holy Mother, I'm shot!" Harriet pressed the other barrel at Clanton's forehead. "Tell your friends to show themselves behind you, or by God, the next ball will sit in your brainpan!" "Do as she says! Damn it, she'll shoot me!" Clanton screeched. At the same moment, the beat of hooves sounded from without and a heartbeat later, they heard commands. "S'arnt, have these men bound! A fine bunch of brigands, to be sure!" Harriet breathed a sigh of relief, recognising Captain Trilby's voice. This was confirmed presently. "Lady Carter! This is Captain Trilby. Have you been harmed?" "Not we," Harriet answered with raised voice. "I shot one of the brigands and we fear for our coachman." They heard the clinking of spurs. "Why, young Mr. Clanton, why don't you turn around?" Trilby asked gleefully. "She won't let go of me!" Clanton squeaked. "Pray, who won't let go and of what?" Jenny let go of the necktie then, but Trilby must have clearly seen the nature of Clanton's predicament. "Why, Mr. Clanton, it seems you were bested by a maidservant, and a slip of a girl to boot! You'll be the talk of the county, no doubt." "She had me by the necktie and pressed that accursed knife to my throat. What was I to do?" Clanton complained almost petulantly. "Be grateful, for had you succeeded in your crime, the gallows would have been assured for you." The women alighted from the coach while Clanton was bound and led away by a dragoon. Harriet looked for the man she had shot. The ball had hit him in the thigh, a flesh wound, and a soldier was binding him up roughly. "A nasty character, Clanton is," Trilby addressed Harriet. "I must congratulate you on your decisive handling of the incident." "What will happen to those ruffians?" Harriet asked. "Not much, I'm afraid. The Honourable Edward Clanton is the Justice of the Peace, and he'll never let his own son stand trial." "What is it with justice in this country?" Harriet demanded with indignation. "Innocent men are deported while rascals enjoy full licence!" Trilby raised both hands in defence. "Lady Carter, if it were just me, I'd have him swing from a sturdy branch right away. I know of at least one girl whom he seduced and left with child. We brought him to court, but his father laughed in my face." Harriet's anger only increased hearing this. "I once knew a man like that. His father shielded him against all consequences. He died from a gentleman's hand in the end." "Would that happen to that rascal, too," Trilby sighed. "As it is, all I can do is shame him by parading him through the streets bound and shackled." "Will that cause you troubles, Captain?" Harriet asked, knowing full well that a captain of dragoons was but a pawn in the local power structure. "I cannot say that I care, Lady Carter," Trilby grinned. "I was offered a non-purchase Major's commission in the 52nd Regiment of Foot, in Oxford. I shall leave Ireland within a month. There is not much Judge Clanton can do to me." Harriet nodded. "Be that as it may, we have to thank you again for rushing to our aid, Captain. I shall make sure that my father learns of your conduct. He is a personal friend of the Lord Lieutenant and not without influence within the ministry, either." Trilby bowed. "That is exceedingly kind of you, Lady Carter. It was little that I did, as Miss O'Shaunessy will no doubt tell you." Siobhan flushed purple at these words. "Do you think me ungrateful, Captain?" she asked with a quaver in her voice. He acted nonchalantly, but Harriet could detect some - dejection? - in his posture. "No, Miss O'Shaunessy, I do not think badly of you at all. I only fear the reverse to be the case." He drew a breath and stood erect. "This is neither here or there. I need to return these would-be highwaymen to Mr. Clanton's care and protection. I will be at Portadown next week. I should be honoured if you allowed me to escort you as far as Lisburn on your return journey." "We should be grateful, Captain," Siobhan blurted, again blushing fiercely. "Please excuse my less than welcoming attitude." Now his smile was genuine. "Then it will be both an honour and a pleasure to escort you," he answered, looking at Siobhan unwaveringly. Meantime, the sergeant had revived their coachman, using the contents of a hip flask. Unfortunately, this means of first aid left the coachman in a drunk state, and Harriet saw problems. Captain Trilby did, too, and his next words proved that. "Higgins, you know how to drive a carriage. Tie your horse to the back and drive the ladies to Armagh. I won't expect you back before tomorrow evening." "Yes, Sir, sartenly, Sir!" The man Higgins was obviously eager for a an evening of leisure. "Lads, give me a hand to hoist that fallen warrior up!" Three of the dragoons lifted the coachman up on the seat and lashed him tightly against the backrest. Higgins climbed up, too, and the women reboarded the carriage. With grim satisfaction, Harriet saw that the dragoons left at a trot, with the prisoners - save for the wounded man - forced to run after the horses. If nothing else, sore feet were assured to them, and more if they stumbled and fell. Higgins let the whip crack, and the carriage set into motion again. He was a good driver, too, for is was scarce after noon that they arrived in Armagh. Harriet saw to it that their coachman was given a cot to sleep off his drunk and his headache, and she awarded Higgins with a Crown for his troubles. Higgins seemed very pleased and he set out, no doubt, to spend that Crown as quickly as possible. Harriet and her companions found lodging in a well kept tavern, and this time, Jenny had a small chamber to herself. Leaving her companions to rest, Harriet then found a Mr. Trevor, solicitor, who handled the estate of Jeremiah Duncan. Learning of his ranking visitor, Mr. Trevor hastened to welcome Harriet, and she explained the purpose of her visit to him. Mr. Trevor beamed with unadulterated joy when he learned that the Lamberts wanted to sell the property, for he had a buyer at hand, as he explained. He asked Harriet to come back the next day, and he promised that the buyer would be there, too, to negotiate the sale. Harriet left Mr. Trevor's premises hoping for a quick conclusion of her business. The rest of the afternoon was spent in leisure. They visited St. Patrick's Cathedral, the seat of the Archbishop of Armagh and head of the Church of Ireland. The cathedral was wanting repairs it seemed, for the Honourable William Stuart, the Archbishop, was short of funds. It would take another quarter century until Lord Beresford would rebuild the cathedral. Yet, they strolled the gardens until the supper bell rang, and they returned to the tavern with good appetite. Nobody disturbed their meal this evening, and they were able to discuss the events of the day in leisure. Harriet and Siobhan praised Jenny's presence of mind and bravery. Harriet promised her a full chest of Irish linen for when she would marry Eric Johnsen and a bridal gown for that occasion. Jenny smiled sadly, knowing that years might pass before Eric Johnsen would be master of his own destiny again. She excused herself to look after Harriet's dresses while Harriet and Siobhan continued their conversation in the common room. Harriet had not mentioned Captain Trilby for fear of embarrassing Siobhan. It was the young Irishwoman herself who broached the subject. "Do you think he will escort us back?" she asked at one point. Harried shrugged. "He offered it, we accepted his offer, and he does not strike me as a man who would break his word. Does his presence still bother you?" Siobhan shook her head, not so much to respond in the negative but to show she was at a loss. "No ... Yes ... Perhaps a little," she moaned. "I don't know how I feel about him." "Is he the first man who makes you mad and happy at the same time?" Harriet asked softly. Siobhan's eyes widened. "How do you know that?" Harriet gave her a friendly smile and patted her hand. "Siobhan, ten years ago I felt very similar about a cocky young sailor. He was second mate in a small sloop owned by his father, and I was a passenger, together with my mother and brother. He drove me crazy with his smiles and winks, and he knew it. I hated him. But then something happened. The ship was caught in a terrible gale, a cyclone, and foundered. The young man suddenly showed his true colours, bringing us all to safety and being considerate to us. What had been irritation changed to admiration, and what was dislike changed into love. You have met him, I believe." Siobhan gasped. "Do you think ... How can ... But I..." she stammered. "Perhaps, it is nothing, my dear. Sometimes, such infatuations are short lived. I believe him to be taken by you as well, though." "I'm but an orphan, and my dowry can only be a pittance," Siobhan moaned. "He does not strike me as affluent either. A non-purchase Major's commission in the 52nd Foot is not what the offspring of rich parents would aim for. Perhaps, you are quite well matched. The important thing, though, is what your heart tells you." "My heart is speaking in riddles," Siobhan countered. "Besides, he'll leave Ireland soon. He said so himself. What chances are there?" "None if you keep discouraging him; a world of chances if you allow him to get to know you," Harriet countered. "I've been misled before," Siobhan said. "What if he's only interested in ... What if his intentions are not honourable?" "He does not strike me that way. Besides, this is something you have to find out about just any man." "I guess," Siobhan admitted. That night, Siobhan sought Harriet's embrace; not to solicit amorous activities, but to find comfort. Harriet knew that Siobhan was almost her own age, but it was like Harriet was her mother that night, rocking the confused young women into sleep. The next morning, after a good breakfast, Harriet set out to Mr. Trevor's. The potential buyer, a Mr. Trehearne, was already there, and Harriet could not shake the suspicion that Mr. Trevor would be less than impartial as moderator, seeing that he and Mr. Trehearne were acquainted and actually neighbours. Sure enough, the first proposal was ridiculously low, and Harriet told them so. "Gentlemen, for £1,100, my father could have sold the property in England, unseen. You must offer us more incentive to sell to Mr. Trehearne." The two men exchanged looks. Mr. Trehearne shrugged with assumed negligence. "In that case, Lady Carter, you indeed want to conclude the sale in England." He remained seated though, a dead giveaway that his words were mere bartering. Now it was Harriet's turn to rise from her chair. "I guess I should then," she answered. "Gentlemen, I wish you a pleasant day." Trevor almost fell over his feet in his haste to prevent her from leaving. "My dear Lady Carter! We have merely started the negotiations!" "Oh! I'm afraid Mr. Trehearne's words were to be construed as that his offer of £1,100 was final." Trehearne looked a little shocked over Harriet's resolute stand. He gave the barrister an angry stare, too. "Aye, and a good offer it is," he said defensively. "A property this size will fetch upwards of £4,500 in England," Harriet opined. "Granted, the tenants pay less here, but I was instructed to ask a minimum of £2,400." "Two-thousand four-hundred?" Trehearne squealed. "Your ladyship has been misinformed I fear. The crops our tenants plant do not yield that much." Harriet allowed herself a smile. "Yes, perhaps, but you earn more with your flax mill where your tenants have to deliver their crop." She proceeded to give Mr. Trehearne an estimate of his earnings from the lands he wanted to buy, and it was clear that the lands would earn two-thousand pounds in less than three years. Harriet smiled at the men who gaped at her. Siobhan and her aunt were both knowledgeable of the economics of flax growing and linen manufacture, and they had provided her with numbers. They haggled for another hour, and Harriet even walked out once, but in the end they settled for £1,950. Harriet made sure to hide the smug smile that wanted to spread over her face, but she signed the agreement with all the dignity and solemnness expected of a lady. Mr. Trevor promised to prepare the title transfer, and Mr. Trehearne agreed to meet Harriet in Belfast to effect the payment. This was something Harriet had insisted on for she did not relish travelling with such a huge sum of money. Harriet returned to the tavern knowing that they would be able to leave the day after next. Mr. Trehearne had been polite enough to invite the Lady Carter and her travel companion to dinner in his home, intimating that his wife would be less than forgiving if he failed to secure her acceptance. After all, not many visitors from London came to this small town, and even fewer of comparable social rank. Trehearne was one of the leading land owners and entrepreneurs in the county, and his manor house showed his wealth. Mrs. Trehearne, to Harriet's delight and surprise, was an educated woman with a ravenous thirst for news and gossip. In return for the news she shared, Harriet learned many things about Armagh county in particular and Ulster in general. Mrs. Trehearne also shared a few morsels of information about Captain Trilby. He was an only child whose mother had died during birth. His father, a major of infantry in the American war, died at Saratoga, leaving the baby boy in the care of his maternal grandmother. That worthy woman raised her grandson until, at fifteen years of age, he joined a local infantry regiment as cadet. He had joined the Portadown dragoons as lieutenant, seven years ago, after the death of his grandmother, and he had been elevated to captain four years ago. He had been engaged to the daughter of Reverend Darby in Moira, but the young woman broke the engagement to marry William Clanton, the Judge's son. This had not been a wise move, for Clanton renounced her after she became with child. The girl claimed him to be the father which he disputed, and she was shipped off to Scotland by her father, while Clanton continued in his pursuit of young women. To Harriet, the story explained why Trilby had shown such glee in arresting Clanton and such frustration over the ultimate fruitlessness of the arrest. Siobhan, in turn, voiced her sympathy with Trilby and her scorn for the girl who had spurned a perfectly good fiancé in favour of a certified scoundrel. It was almost midnight when Mr. Trehearne had Harriet and Siobhan returned to the tavern and they fell asleep in each other's arms again. At breakfast the next morning, they were surprised when the subject of last evening's gossip entered the common room. Captain Trilby stood at the door for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness within, but when he espied Harriet and Siobhan, he approached them. "Good Morning, Lady Carter! Miss O'Shaunessy!" "Why, Good Morning, Captain," Harriet greeted him, while Siobhan stammered something akin to a greeting, flushing profusely. "Why don't you join us?" "That is very kind of you, Lady Carter. I will do so, but only if Miss O'Shaunessy can agree, too." "Please, Captain, sit with us," Siobhan managed to say in response. "It is a pleasant surprise to see you, Captain. To what do we owe this?" Harriet inquired with a smile on her lips. "Well, it is like this, Lady Carter. I have been relieved of my posting by my successor, Captain Mulroney. He's local, so he'll be more acceptable to most people. I will now travel back to England, to take up my new posting with the 52nd Foot." "I wish you all the luck and success in your new command, Major," Harriet answered sincerely. Siobhan looked crestfallen. "You'll be leaving Ireland?" she managed to ask. He nodded, looking at Siobhan with a curious look. "I shall try to find transport to Liverpool from Belfast, so I may be delayed for a few days, but yes, I need to join my new regiment." Harriet nudged her friend encouragingly. "Perhaps, I you find the time while you are in Belfast, would you like to visit? I live with my aunt, Mrs. Fitzmaurice. I am sure you will be welcome." "Would that be possible, Miss O'Shaunessy? It will be my pleasure to pay you a visit. Perhaps, you can show me around the town, too?" "I can do that," Siobhan almost whispered, again overwhelmed by her own audacity. "May we still count on your offer to escort us?" Harriet asked with raised eyebrows. Trilby laughed. "Now more than ever, as I am master of my time, at least until I will join my new regiment." "Excellent. I and my friend will look forward to your company. Oh, we planned to leave later this morning. Will that pose a problem for you?" "Not at all. I can get a fresh horse at the stables in Portadown. The earlier we leave, the more time will remain for me to see all that Belfast has to offer." It was no later than ten o'clock when the rented carriage jerked forward. On Harriet's begging, Captain Trilby had agreed to join the women in the carriage, letting his horse rest. Harriet was able to drag Siobhan into the ensuing conversation, and Harriet saw the Captain's eyes rest on the pretty Irishwoman whenever he felt unwatched. However, none of Harriet's schemes would have born fruit without the unwilling assistance of the younger Clanton. At Portadown, Captain Trilby acquired a fresh horse and he insisted on riding through the next miles. Two volunteer dragoons, one of them the formidable Higgins, were also escorting them, for as Trilby had told them, the Judge Clanton had immediately released his son, postponing a trial for at least a month. Trilby had shrugged, admitting that a trial would be useless since the main witnesses would be in England by then. They rode through Lurgan without hostile encounters, but two miles after, the group of travellers was jolted by the sharp report of a musket. Trilby's horse reared up and collapsed, throwing its rider and rendering him unconscious from the fall. Both the dragoons' horses shied, and their riders could not control them for some time. Harriet had her pistol ready by this time and she peered through the window. There! Behind a small stand of trees close to the highway, she saw a man hurriedly mounting his horse. She recognised Clanton at once. Once he came clear of the trees, Harriet fired her first barrel. The powder smoke obscured the view for a second or two, but Harriet heard the scream of a horse and the sound of twigs breaking. When the smoke cleared, she saw that Clanton's riderless horse was galloping away while Clanton himself unsuccessfully tried to escape a dense bramble into which his shying horse had thrown him. By now, the two dragoons had dismounted, and their muskets barked in unison. The impact of one or two musket balls threw Clanton back into the brambles. No movement could be seen. Harriet covered the brambles with her pistol while the dragoons reloaded hurriedly. Before Harriet could do or say anything, Siobhan was out of the carriage and running to where Trilby was lying in the road unconscious. She turned him around and frantically searched him for signs of injury. When none could be found, she sat on the dusty road and put the Captain's head into her lap, caressing his face and imploring him to wake. "Please, don't die! Please, wake up. Don't leave me now that I finally found you!" She was wailing and babbling incessantly, and when the dragoons had ascertained Clanton's death, Harriet rushed over to help, barely remembering to put the hammer of her pistol to the 'rest' position. Trilby was already coming to, but with her vision impaired by tears, Siobhan did not see his fluttering eyelids. "Please, my darling man, do not die on me!" she continued to wail. "Aye, d'ye hear me? Yes, my darling man! I need you, and if you even wake now, I shall never leave you again!" "If that is a promise, I'll hold you to it," Trilby slurred, still suffering from the fall. Siobhan froze for a heartbeat, but she controlled herself. "You're back. Oh, my prayer has been answered. Yes, it is a promise, if you will hold me to it." "That I shall, my dear Miss O'Shaunessy. I hoped that you might feel for me, but I could never be sure. Yes, I take your promise and I shall hold you to it." The two dragoon had rejoined them after dragging the dead Clanton from the brambles, and they looked upon their former captain with grins on their faces. "'E's a dead un, young Clanton is, Cap'n," Higgins reported. "I don' rightfully know iff'n is was Charley or me what shot 'im seeing that we shot at 'im as one." "Is it possible that my pistol shot killed him?" Harriet asked, dreading the answer. "No, m'lady. Yon shot on'y grazed 'is 'orse an' spooked it. A good thing it was, aye, for 'e nigh on escaped." With a groan and with Siobhan's help, Trilby sat up, holding his head. "We'll have to bring him into Lurgan for burial," he spoke slowly, his head obviously suffering under each word. He looked at his horse and made a face. The horse was dead. He looked around, obviously for another mount but was confronted by Siobhan. "George Trilby, you will not ride a horse! You will sit in the coach with us where we can look after you." "We are not even engaged yet and you command me already?" Trilby complained, a weak smile on his lips. "Only when you have hit your head," Siobhan answered, to the chuckles of the two dragoons. Obediently, Captain Trilby sat in the coach while Clanton's body was laid across his horse which had returned on its own. It was only a half hour ride when Trilby had the coachman drive up to a modest manor house which was owned by the elder Clanton who also served as justice of the peace. It took only a few minutes for Clanton to rush down the front steps. "What have you done to my son?" he screamed at Trilby. "Nothing," Trilby answered slowly. "Your son fired a shot at me from behind a stand of trees. He killed my horse, and I was thrown. These two privates returned his fire, unknowing who it was who had fired at me. One of them hit your son with a musket ball. I'm afraid he's dead." "They'll stand trial for that! I'll have them hanged for that!" Clanton raged. "You will do nothing of that sort!" Nobody had seen Harriet step from the coach, but now she confronted Clanton. "I'll have you know that I shall inform the Viceroy of how you execute your office! How dare you accuse these brave soldiers? Your son attacked Captain Trilby cowardly and he met with his just deserves." "Who are you?" "I am Lady Carter, wife of Captain Sir Anthony Carter and daughter of Sir Richard Lambert, Admiral of the Blue. A week ago, your son held up my coach, severely beating my coachman, no doubt with the purpose of molesting me and my companions. A fine man he was, your son!" Even in his rage, Clanton was intimidated by a Harriet who was at the verge of breathing fire in her righteous wrath. "He was a fine lad, my son,..." he started weakly. "Poppycock!" Harriet snorted. "A fine lad does not shoot at a King's Officer on the King's highways. He does not hold up carriages and does not threaten and violate innocent girls and women. We shall leave now, and if you dare hold us up any more, you had better take up fencing lessons, for my husband is well known for settling matters of honour at sword point!" Clanton's mouth worked furiously, but no sound issued from it. Harriet turned to Trilby. "Are you coming, Captain? We have already lost enough time." Trilby shrugged and turned, offering Harriet his arm to lead her back to the carriage. They climbed in, and the carriage, accompanied by their two dragoons, left Clanton's drive way and headed back to the highway. It was shortly after two o'clock when they set out on the highway again, and they pressed on until evening when they reached Lisburn. Paying an extra fee, Harriet was able to get fresh horses for their carriage at a roadside tavern. The sky was clear, and the moon would rise soon after dusk. Belfast was a mere ten miles away, and they decided to continue their journey, to reach Belfast that very night. Indeed, they arrived at Mrs. Fitzmaurice' house with the church bell tolling the tenth hour. Harriet gave the coachman and the two dragoons an extra guinea each for their good services while Siobhan knocked on her aunt's door. The good Mrs. Fitzmaurice opened only a little later, a hood on her head and wearing a cloak over her nightskirt. Introductions were affected hastily, and Mrs. Fitzmaurice scorned the idea of Captain Trilby finding accommodations in a tavern. She had a big house with room to spare, after all. They were all ravenous, and their hostess busied herself in the kitchen with the roused cook to prepare a supper. Siobhan joined her aunt, to tell her the news about Captain Trilby as Harriet suspected. She was right in her surmise. When supper was finished, Mrs. Fitzmaurice eyed Captain Trilby with her head tilted. "Captain, I suppose now is as good time as ever for you to speak your mind." "That is true, Mrs. Fitzmaurice," Trilby conceded. "Perhaps it is even a 'now or never', since I am about to leave Ireland to join my new regiment near Oxford. It is also true that I have come to care for your niece in the brief span of time we had together, and she has admitted to feeling the same. "I shall receive a commission as Major in the 52nd Regiment of Foot. It is a non-purchase commission, and this allowed me to sell my commission with the Portadown Dragoons. This brings my fortune to a little over £3,000, enough to entertain a wife in appropriate style. I am afraid that I cannot expect any inheritance, as I am an orphan and quite alone in the world. "I would ask you for your permission to court your niece. I can delay my departure for two or three weeks in which time Miss O'Shaunessy can determine whether she deems me a fitting suitor. If we find each other agreeable, I will then ask for a marriage before I shall join my regiment. I am aware that you might feel that I am rushing things, but I fear it may be some time before I can return to Ireland. I also fear that Miss O'Shaunessy's obvious qualities may be noticed by other gentlemen, depriving me of my chances." Harriet noticed that Mrs. Fitzmaurice was impressed by Trilby's openness. She nodded a few times during his declaration, and when he finished she cast a brief smile at her niece. "I appreciate your openness, Captain, and your candid words. It is indeed on short notice that you ask for my blessing, and my nephew has just left Belfast for a long time. In his stead, I shall answer you. My niece has confessed her liking for you, and I would hate to stand in her way to happiness. If, after the proposed courtship, she still finds you a fitting suitor, then I shall give my blessing and agree to a expedited wedding. "Although an orphan, my niece will bring a dowry into a marriage, from her mother's inheritance. A chest of the finest linen, real china plates and silver cutlery for one, but also an investment in the Patriotic Funds in the amount of £800 and some jewellery." Trilby smiled. "I should be happy to accept her without dowry, for she is a treasure to match more than my meagre possessions. It will by my aim to preserve whatever Miss O'Shaunessy brings into our marriage for the daughters we will hopefully have." Again, Mrs. Fitzmaurice nodded. "It is settled then. Tomorrow, I shall ask you to find other lodgings to avoid the impropriety of living under the same roof as the young woman you are wooing. I shall expect your regular visits, though, and I hope that you will dine with us every evening. "This brings me to my last question. I presume that you will want Siobhan to accompany you to your new posting in Oxfordshire. Do you have relatives there, to help Siobhan in case your regiment is sent into the field?" "I am an orphan myself, Mrs. Fitzmaurice, and I have no relatives. I'm afraid that this will count against me." "Not so, Mrs. Fitzmaurice," Harriet interjected. "Oxford is not far from Maidenhead where we have our country seat. Whenever your niece feels in need of support and friendship, she can count on me. Should I be absent from England, I shall leave note with my housekeeper and my caretaker, to let them know that Mrs. Trilby is always welcome at High Matcham." Siobhan gave Harriet a grateful smile. "Thank you, dearest Harriet. I hope you will allow me to visit you, even without being in dire straits." "Why, of course! Never hesitate to come visit," Harriet answered. "I believe I speak for my parents, too, when I say you will also be met with a welcome should you venture to London." That night, Siobhan came into Harriet's room. Harriet had found a passage to Dublin for the day after next, a fact that Siobhan had almost forgotten in her elation over the recent developments. The two young women talked late into the night. In the beginning, Siobhan could only talk about George Trilby, and she asked Harriet time and again if she approved of him, too. When that topic was exhausted, Siobhan turned apprehensive. "Harriet, dearest, I will never forget the tenderness we experienced together. I have to be grateful to you for so many things. Without you and your family..." "Shh! Siobhan, you have given much, too. Mostly your friendship, but I also delighted in our intimate moments. You are a true treasure and Captain Trilby better treat you well or else I shall hound him to the corners of the earth. I hope we will meet again, Siobhan. I regard you as a very dear friend." Harriet rummaged in her valise and retrieved a silk shawl that Siobhan had admired openly. "I want you to have this, to remember me by." "I cannot take this," Siobhan protested. "It must have cost a fortune. What will Sir Anthony say?" "He did not buy it. It was a present on occasion of my first wedding, an event that has no sentimental value for me as you know. Please, Siobhan, accept." Siobhan gave Harriet a long kiss. Then she remembered something and jumped up. "Wait, please!" she said, running for her room. She returned with a medallion on a necklace, showing a miniature painting of Siobhan. It medallion was silver, but the painting was very life-like. "Will you take this, to remember me by?" Siobhan asked. "This is wonderful," Harriet smiled. "Are you sure that you don't want Captain Trilby to have this?" "He will get the real me. Please, Harriet, accept!" "Thank you, my darling Siobhan," Harriet said with feeling. "I could never forget you, but I will cherish your miniature." "May I stay the night? I want to sleep snuggled against you one more time," Siobhan asked almost shyly. Harriet simply hugged her and pulled her down beside her on the bed. They blew out the light and fell asleep in each other's embrace. ------- Two days later found Harriet on the deck of the packet boat, studying the River Liffey estuary ahead. The journey from Belfast had been a quick one, and now they were able to slip into Dublin with a rising tide. Harriet's heart beat faster. There, in the outer harbour, she saw the tall masts and rigging of the Asia. Tony was in port, and she would see him again, perhaps this very evening. "There's Asia, m'lady," Jenny commented, her voice wistful. "I'll try my best, Jenny," Harriet promised. Of course, Jenny was hoping to see her boyfriend, Eric Johnsen. Harriet could sympathise with the girl. The small fore-and-aft rigged boat was lying close to the wind, but she made surprising headway, mostly due to the rising tide. Soon, Harriet could see the Asia in detail. Then they passed her stern, and Harriet stared longingly at the gallery and the tall windows of the after cabin. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Harriet could see that the captain's gig was not in its hocks. Tony was ashore. The small vessel could easily lie alongside the quay, and Harriet was the first passenger to walk down the gangway. She found a cab to rent, and Jenny handed their luggage to the driver. Within a quarter hour, the cab drove up in front of the Royal Crown inn, and Harriet was tapping her foot impatiently as the driver unloaded their bags again. Without bothering with her room, Harriet strode right into the common room. Her hopes came true. There, at the best table, sat her father together with Tony. Of course, they looked up when the door opened, and Harriet would never forget the relief she felt when she saw that Tony looked at her with obvious joy. He rose quickly, and before Harriet knew it, she was in his arms. Life was good again. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 8: A Chase to Remember In the weeks following O'Shaunessy's conviction, the Asia was at sea incessantly. Without explicitly admitting to it, Commodore Fanning seemed to harbour some resentment against his captain. Tony had a good idea what the reasons were, for Mrs. Fanning was living in Dublin, and some of the resentment felt against Tony by the local authorities must be directed against her by proxy. There was more hidden, he suspected. After all, Fanning had taught Tony most of what he knew about his profession and he was Tony's senior as a captain by more than six years. Yet, in the saloons of Dublin, and no doubt for Mrs. Fanning to hear, Fanning was just another Navy officer. By contrast, Tony had been given far more attention as a veteran of Trafalgar. There was the knighthood, too, to consider. Receiving the knighthood was the Holy Grail for every captain, yet the coveted distinction had eluded Fanning so far, in spite of the numerous successful engagements he had fought. Patrolling the Irish Sea, there was not much hope either for Fanning to distinguish himself further. To be fair, after Trafalgar, there were not many chances for captains to fight the pitched battles that were their hope to win distinction. The French were beaten and blockaded, and the British ships were mere warders of them, preventing them from escaping the harbours. This was as dangerous and demanding a duty as sailing in the line of battle, but it won little recognition for them. Nevertheless, Fanning had the Asia scour the Irish Sea for weeks on end. If not fame, they would at least win prize money. Twice already, they had apprehended smaller vessels engaged in smuggling. Many Irish and Scottish families had relatives in French and Spanish service, and in spite of the war, those ties were maintained and used for trading of contraband. It was almost comical that the lumbering Asia had caught two prizes while the frigates and sloops had been without success, but both Fanning and Tony were frigate captains at heart, and they just seemed to know where to position the huge ship in a fog to catch a hapless smuggler. These small successes were good for the morale of the crew, and even Commodore Fanning's misgivings about his captain were reduced when they caught a seventy-ton cutter laden with French brandy. The cargo would sell for a premium in London where brandy was hard to come by due to the Continental Embargo enforced by the Emperor Napoleon. Consequently, Asia stayed at sea for longer uninterrupted intervals, as Commodore Fanning sought to win in gold what he had missed in honours. It was an early August morning, and Asia was sailing close-hauled against the northwesterly wind and the choppy waves along the Welsh coast. They had sailed close to the coast line in the cover of the night and they hoped for yet another smuggler making use of the morning breeze just south of Anglesey when they sighted a suspicious craft, a lugger, that was just emerging from Menai Strait. That was suspicious in itself, for no captain in his right mind would sail that treacherous passage, let alone at night. Obviously, the captain of the lugger did not like the Asia's sight either. He changed his southbound course to west, lying as close to the wind as possible and trying to evade the big ship. On the sea, flight provokes pursuit, and the way Tony had positioned the Asia, she was to leeward, preventing an easy escape. Given the fresh breeze and the choppy water, the big ship of the line with her nearly twenty feet of draught was at least equal to the small lugger which was thrown about in the waves and made more leeway due to its shallow build. Fanning had appeared on deck. "Another one?" he asked, openly rubbing his hands. Tony turned to his commodore. "At least he's leery of us, Sir. He's trying to show us his heels, but in this weather, he'll have a hard time of it. We're gaining already." "Excellent. What's his cargo, though? Coming from Liverpool is my guess. What's to hide with a cargo from Liverpool?" "Not brandy, I fear," Tony joked. "I hear that sugar commands fantastic prices on the Continent." "Possible. If he keeps that course, we'll know in an hour or two. Damn it! He's going about!" But Tony was already shouting his commands. As the lugger settled on her new, eastern course, Tony kept the Asia straight to leeward, the ideal position for a chase. Whenever they overreached the smaller craft, Tony luffed his ship for a few seconds, winning precious way to windward and closing on his intended prey. Already, the smaller ship was within firing range. "A shot over the bows, Sir?" Tony asked. Fanning nodded immediately. On Tony's orders the brass bow chasers were readied and five minutes later, a shot roared out. In the rough sea, Tony could barely make out the water fountain, but there it was, two cable lengths in front of the lugger. Yet, the lugger held course. It became obvious to Tony that the other captain was abandoning his attempt to leave British waters, heading back for the mouth of Menai Strait. This was a dilemma. To follow the lugger would be more than foolhardy in a ship as big as the Asia. Tony was not sure whether any big ship had ever sailed the passage. Fortunately, a look at the tidal tables told him that the flood tide was running. While this would raise the water level, it would also create the violent cross currents at a place called the Swillies, the narrowest part of the passage. This was owed to the fact that the tide entered this waterway from two sides and with a time delay, causing opposing currents. Yet, there was no way to come close enough to the lugger before it reached the strait. Well, except by crippling it. "Sir, permission to open fire? I fear he'll show us a clean pair of heels by sailing the strait." Fanning shook his head. "No, that will not do. What's the use of sinking her? Keep up the pursuit. We'll enter the strait. The first half is not so bad." "Aye-aye, Sir," Tony answered, his misgivings not quite hidden. Here he was risking a £15,000 ship of the line to catch a lugger worth less than £1,000. In the face of a clear order, there was nothing he could do. He gave orders to head for the strait. They were still gaining on the lugger in the choppy water, but that would cease once they entered the protected waters in the strait. Rounding the point at the mouth, the lugger had already gained a cable length. "Do you wish for me to continue the pursuit, Sir?" he asked Fanning. Fanning, to his credit, weighed the question. He knew full well that the risk was great. It was Tony's responsibility to ask that question, and it was Fanning's decision. He exhaled. "It's worth the risk. That lugger is hiding something, and I want to know what. Do you want to lodge a protest, to be on the safe side?" The question was asked without malice. Tony shook his head. "No, thank you, Sir. That will not be necessary." He grinned. "I do not plan to run her aground." "Very well, then, Captain! Let's give chase!" The next two hours would forever be etched into Tony's memory. The moment they entered the narrow waterway, Tony felt the difference. Suddenly, the ponderous Asia swerved and yawed like a flat-bottomed lighter in the violent tide currents. The tide was still pushing them forward, and the sailing was treacherous. Tony realised that they were on a swift ride they could not control. His only consolation came from the discovery that the lugger was faring even worse. The deep keel of the two-decker at least found some purchase in the calmer water close to the bottom. By contrast, the lugger was thrown about violently in the cross currents and barely able to steer a course. Tony had to relieve the quartermasters with each sound of the bell, to account for the back-breaking work they had to perform. After an hour, they came closer to the Swillies, the narrowest section of the strait, full of submerged rocks. It was their salvation that the current reversed just as they approached this dangerous narrows. For a few precious minutes, the currents from either side neutralised each other, creating somewhat manageable conditions. Tony had climbed into the foretop with a speaking trumpet and yelled down directions. The men at the wheel were now supported by twelve men on the relief tackles, directed by Fanning who in this moment gave up his role as commodore to help with his vast experience. From his vantage point, Tony could see people on the shore, their mouth agape and staring at the sight of a tall ship navigating the Swillies. A slight counter current was setting in, giving them better steerage and also slowing down their speed over the ground. By backing the topsails, they could even back up once when Tony saw they were heading for a dead end channel between the underwater rocks. At one point, they had to go about and a cross wind caught them unprepared. For two minutes, Asia drifted with her sails aback. Tony returned to the deck so fast that he burnt his hands on the halliards. Fortunately, the wind veered again, and Asia picked up speed. There was a shallow ahead, though, and Tony knew there was no way avoiding it. On his orders, the top gallants were hoisted to gather more speed. Whatever happened, he had to get the Asia over that sandbar before the low tide would set in. Once stranded, the ship would break apart as soon as it was not buoyed by the water anymore. Asia scraped over the sandbar, and the sound of her keel dragging over the dirt sent shivers of fear through her crew. Her momentum was great enough though and finally, they were across. Nobody had had the time to watch the lugger, but once they were safe again, Tony saw it. It sat on a submerged rock, stern first. The mast had been snapped off at deck level and Tony could see that the lugger's back was broken. He immediately ordered to have the side boats lowered. The crews rushed into the boats and took off, to save whoever had survived the grounding. Tony called John Little next. "Listen, once the side boats are clear, enter the lugger and find out what's her cargo. If possible, look into the main cabin and secure any papers you can find. Don't stay too long, d'ye hear!" The gig was off a few minutes later while the side boats were already picking up survivors from the rocks that surrounded the wreck. Tony had the Asia luff to take out speed, and she more or less countered the current, maintaining her relative position. John Little knew his trade. The gig, driven by eight oars, approached the wreck from downstream, and the bow man was able to hook them with a well thrown grapnel. Next, John Little and young Eric Johnsen boarded the small ship. As ordered, Little stayed for less than five minutes, but Tony could see that both men carried bundles which they threw into the gig before they left the doomed lugger. Meanwhile, Tony had to receive the crew of the lugger, the Charlie as Tony learned. The skipper was not among them. He had been hit by a boom when the lugger ran aground and thrown into the water, never to surface again. Tony questioned the rescued men to find out why they had tried to evade the Asia, but the soaked and shivering men refused to answer. He left the men standing as the gig was fighting its way back to the Asia. Once it was hooked, John Little climbed up and with a triumphant grin that looked feral on his black face he handed two canvas bags to Tony. "This is all we could find in the short time, Sir." "Excellent Mr. Little," Tony commended his coxswain. He turned to Fanning. "Sir, do you wish to examine the papers?" Fanning nodded. "I shall attend to them. Kindly have the crew secured and set a course for Liverpool, if you please. Oh, Sir Anthony, that was a fine piece of seamanship you showed. I doubt anybody ever sailed a full ship through that maelstrom." Fanning disappeared after this, leaving to Tony the task of putting the soaked survivors of the shipwreck under lock and key. That done, he went below himself, to change out of his sweat soaked clothes. Now that the excitement was gone, he felt weak and cold. The risk they had run had been enormous, and Tony still did not know if it had availed anything. Not long after, though, Fanning's steward knocked. "The Commodore's compliments, Sir Anthony, and would you dine with him?" There was but one answer to the invitation from a superior officer. "Please tell Commodore Fanning it will be my pleasure." The table in the main cabin was set for two when Tony entered. Obviously, Fanning wanted to talk in privacy. This was proven when he looked up and saw a closed skylight. Fanning did not want to be overheard. Tony shrugged. He had not done anything against Fanning's wishes in almost four weeks, and they had not received mail either, excluding the possibility that Fanning had to break bad news to him. He had to sit all through an excellent dinner before Fanning revealed the reasons for this invitation. When the table was finally cleared, the steward served Port Wine and retreated, leaving them alone. "Those are deep waters we sailed into, Tony," Fanning began. Tony was surprised at the address. Only once before had Fanning addressed him by his first name, when he yielded the command over the Medusa to him. "How so, Sir?" "Those canvas bags your coxswain secured will cause heads to roll, and we must be careful or it will be our heads. There were letters in that bag that implicate leading officials in the Viceroy's government. Your friend Melrose is among them; that Judge, too. Suffice to say, they schemed to have those hapless men convicted to incite disenchantment among Irish officers and men. It was a plot, and the French must be behind it." "Shall we sail for London, Sir?" "That's a thought. However, what I gleaned from the letters is that the Viceroy is not party to the conspiracy. To go to London with our discovery would blindside him and discredit him. I have to find a way to speak the Viceroy in privacy. At least one of his secretaries is a traitor. If this leaks out, the traitors may flee or even try to act against us." "I would suggest, Sir, to keep the lugger's crew locked away. We mustn't let any crew ashore either, lest somebody runs his mouth over our capture." "My thoughts exactly. This should include our gigs' crews, but I don't know how we can get ashore without them. We'll have them return to the ship immediately. Then we need to make contact with the Viceroy. How are we supposed to achieve that?" "You could claim to have despatches for him, Sir. We could even make up something, to cover for your visit." Fanning made a face. "He still won't see me privately." "Sir, what if your wife could manage to dance with the Viceroy, at a soiree, and ask him to see you in private?" Fanning thought about, and he obviously found no fault with the idea. He nodded. "That may be a possibility. Yes, that's what we'll try. Kindly change course for Dublin, Tony. There's no time to be wasted." "May I sail around Anglesey, Sir?" Tony asked dryly. "Yes, please. I've seen enough of Menai Strait to serve me a lifetime." Dougherty looked at Tony curiously when the new course was set, but Tony's bearing was discouraging him from asking for explanations. The NNW wind that had been so helpful during their passage through Menai Strait now forced Tony to elongate his north-easterly leg way beyond Gogarth before he could hope to lay a westward course that would see him free to pass Anglesey safely. Nevertheless, the next morning saw them past Holyhead and with a clean run for Dublin. Even though the discovery of important documents on board the lugger had been kept secret, excitement ran high among officers and crew. The daring passage through Menai Strait would be retold for years, and Tony suspected the story to be blown out of proportion pretty soon. The officers had another reason to be anxious for their return to port. Six weeks had passed since their sailing, and the fate of their fellow officer Michael O'Shaunessy might be decided by now. Tony himself was anxious to receive mail, too. Almost eight weeks are a long time, and he was anxious to learn how Harriet had responded to his appeal. His suggestion to sail for London with the captured documents had been made with the idea in mind to see Harriet and make progress in their reconciliation. Now he had to wait for God knew how long. He expected Fanning to sail again within a day, to maintain secrecy. The River Liffey estuary came into sight shortly after noon and Tony ordered a shortening of the sails. The armed cutter "Wren" was lying along the quay, but that was the only shipping in the harbour, save for some lighters. Tony anchored the Asia a good two cable lengths from the shore to prevent any communication between ship and land. As soon as the sails were belayed, Tony assembled the officers and issued his orders. No contact with the shore was permitted, bum boats had to stay away, the mail would be delivered by shore boat and woe to the officer who allowed idle chatter. Tony could see that his officers were taken aback at this strict quarantine, but Tony's demeanour did not encourage questions. Fanning had himself rowed ashore in his gig. The boat was under a midshipman's command and returned immediately. In his glass, Tony could see how Fanning was speaking to another Navy officer, an admiral, right on the quay. They disappeared together and Tony went below to complete a letter to Harriet. It was almost two hours later when the midshipman of the watch knocked and entered. "Signal from land, Sir! To Asia, send captain." "Very well, Mr. Pollard. Have my gig called at once!" Five minutes later saw him in the stern of his gig. "You'll return to the ship at once, Mr. Little," he told his coxswain. There was no need for a midshipman to command the boat, for John Little had full control of the crew. In silent understanding, Little steered the gig to a landing away from any idlers, and the boat had shoved off before Tony was half way up the steps. He saw Fanning immediately, but at his side was Sir Richard Lambert who regarded Tony with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. "Ah, here is the other madman!" he greeted his son-in-law. "What a folly, to steer a ship through Menai Strait!" Tony shrugged. "I'm not saying it was easy, Richard, but we made it. All's well that ends well, right?" "It was a tomfoolery! You better not tell this story anywhere, unless you want to face a court of inquiry." "I told Sir Richard that you were acting under my orders," Fanning interjected. "If you are both so eager to spend more time with your wives, ask for a leave, but don't wreck your ship," Sir Richard snapped in response. Tony didn't answer. It wasn't necessary, for Sir Richard had vented his exasperation and he turned his attention to business. "It's a good thing I'm here. Richmond is an old acquaintance of mine." He gave Tony another withering look. "Had you kept your face out of that Pendrake woman's décolletage, you would have seen him, too, at Admiralty House in Kingston. You would have saved my daughter some heartache in the bargain." Fanning was grinning broadly, obviously aware of Tony's dalliance with the voluptuous Mrs. Pendrake and the fallout with Harriet Lambert it had precipitated. Sir Richard collected himself. "Enough of that. Let us sit in private and plan the next steps." "May I ask the reason of your presence here?" Tony asked, just a little worried. "I accompanied your wife and that O'Shaunessy girl. Your lieutenant was pardoned. I won't say it was Harriet's doing alone, but she worked hard toward that end. She even endured that insufferable Selkirk getting mixed up in the campaign. In the end, it was Norton who swayed the ministry." Sir Anthony led the way into the city proper. "Harriet is here, then?" Tony asked when Sir Richard would not continue. "I expect her back any day. Her mother sent her on some foolish errand to Armagh, to give her an excuse to accompany the O'Shaunessy girl." While he then proceeded to tell them of the deal made with the ministry, they reached the Golden Cross inn. On Sir Richard's demand, a side room was cleared for them, and a cold pastry was served. The waiting girl left the room and Sir Richard locked it from inside. "Now, let us talk. You have those captured letters, Fanning?" The Commodore nodded and produced an envelope from his breast pocket which he handed to the admiral. Sir Richard first examined the envelope and the address written on it, as well as the broken seal. With his long and delicate fingers, he pulled out the contents, four handwritten pages which he then proceeded to study. At last, he looked up at his son-in-law. "Have you seen this?" Tony shook his head. "There was no need for me to know. Commodore Fanning related the contents to me, though." "He did, didn't he. Well, this is highly incriminating for a number of men in high positions. I agree with Commodore Fanning that the Viceroy needs to be informed urgently and discreetly. I would advise you against involving your wife, my dear Fanning. Those are deep waters and we should hate for your wife to incur the malevolence of those traitors, even unwittingly. "I have seen the Viceroy twice in private company, and both times were in his own quarters. I think I should offer a counter invitation to him, in style of course. I believe the great cabin of Asia would be fitting, if you gentlemen will allow me the use of it. So far, his secretaries were not in presence during our private evenings." "Should they accompany him, I could arrange for the wardroom to entertain them?" Tony suggested. "We captured some excellent French brandy; that should suffice to lure them away from their master." "Quite! Now what about that smuggler's crew?" "I believe time is limited in any case. Our chase through Menai Strait was observed from the shore, and rumours will reach Dublin in a few days. I could send them aboard the Wren and order Lt. Fenwick to patrol the Scottish coastline for at least a fortnight." Sir Richard and Tony nodded at Fanning's suggestion. It was sensible. Tony had to add something. "I'm afraid I cannot keep officers and crew secluded from the shore for long. Two weeks is possible without raising suspicion, but a longer quarantine cannot be maintained." Sir Richard nodded his consent. "I shall send a billet to the Viceroy right this afternoon. There is another matter, though, that needs to be discussed. Their Lordships are of the opinion that a two-decker is ill suited for chasing down smugglers in the Irish Sea. Recent evidence to the contrary notwithstanding," here Sir Richard smiled sardonically, "I have to agree with their assessment. Be that as it may, Asia will join Sir Charles Cotton's squadron off Cadiz." "Spain?" Fanning and Tony asked simultaneously. "This only concerns Asia, my dear Fanning. You will continue your command here. You will have two frigates instead of the Asia. Indefatigable will be one of them, I know. She'll make for a decent flagship. You may also expect your flag very soon." "Pellew's old frigate?" Fanning asked eagerly. Indefatigable was a legend in the service. She had started as a two-deck, 64-gun ship of the line. She was too late for the American war and obsolete before she was even launched. They had cut her down to one deck in '94, to make a 44-gun frigate of her, and in the four years following, she had become as famous as her first captain, Sir Edward Pellew. "The very same," Sir Richard answered. "She's fresh from the dry dock, too. The other frigate is Lydia, 36. I fancy, with four frigates and a sloop, you'll have nice pickings from those smugglers. Your patrol area will include the south coast now." Fanning nodded. He would lose his flagship, but his responsibilities would be greater. It made sense, too. Two frigates could patrol far more efficiently. With the increased patrol area, he might even pick up more contraband. Meanwhile, Tony did not look too happy. Joining Vice-Admiral Cotton's squadron would mean blockade service off Cadiz, most likely. He might not see Harriet again for years. Sir Richard could sense Tony's thoughts. He gave his son-in-law an assuring smile. "Harriet is willing to move to Gibraltar. You could see each other when you come to port for victualling." Tony weighed this. "That may be hard on her, to be away from all her friends and family." "You better talk to her. You'll find out there are only three persons she's concerned about, and two of them are your children." They returned to discussing the pressing matters then. With the two captains watching, Sir Richard composed a short letter, inviting his Excellency The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland ("My dear Charles,") for an evening on board HMS Asia, to acquaint himself with ship and crew and to enjoy their hospitality ("They just recently captured a large cargo of French Brandies which I trust your will enjoy to sample."). He continued, expressing his hope that such a visit would put an end to misgivings caused by the judicial proceedings against Lt. O'Shaunessy. The letter ended with Sir Richard promising an enlightening and entertaining evening. Once the epistle had been sealed and sent by way of messenger, Fanning and Tony bade their farewell, to return to Asia and to start preparations for the viceroyal visit. For the evening, the wardroom officers were invited into the great cabin. Commodore Fanning made it clear that officers and crew would be confined to the ship. He explained this by stating that he did not wish for their adventure in Menai Strait to become public knowledge, as it was likely to precipitate a Court of Inquiry. The officers looked at each other, obviously taken aback. Commodore Fanning then went on to explain that they had nothing to show for their reckless action, the lugger being lost and nothing of value recovered. Tony then revealed the new destination for Asia. The response was mixed, too. Blockade duty off Cadiz would be boring. However, patrolling the Irish Sea in winter was not tempting either. "Sir," Jonathan Wilkes asked, "are we permitted to write home about that changed posting? I know that my wife was contemplating to find temporary lodgings here in Dublin, and I would rather give her fair warning." "Certainly," Tony replied. "You gentlemen are not prisoners. I must ask you though, to refrain from mentioning any recent action. Is that understood?" The officers nodded judiciously. A Court of Inquiry is a tricky thing, and to be involved even by association might harm their own future careers. Tony then raised the mood by announcing the possibility that His Excellency the Viceroy might pay a visit to the Asia and her officers. The next morning was spent removing all traces of the last weeks at sea, and by midmorning, the decks were spotless again, ropes and lines were coiled properly, and the quarter deck nine-pounder brass guns polished. Shortly after noon, a billet arrived from Sir Richard, confirming that His Excellency had accepted the ad hoc invitation. This news precipitated even more efforts to bring the ship into its best shape, and the toil served to make the men forget their confinement on board. Right on time at the start of the Second Dog Watch, a launch left the quay. In his glass, Tony made out his father-in-law and, equally imposing, the Viceroy in his General's uniform. At least two more officers accompanied His Excellency. When the launch drew nearer, Tony recognised both officers as the Commander of Dublin Castle, Major General Edwin Hobbs and his second-in-command, Colonel Benteen. "What a stroke of luck," Fanning whispered in Tony's ear. "Neither of them is implicated in the documents." Tony nodded although he was certain that it had been Sir Richard's planning and not luck that had caused both officers to join in the visit. The Viceroy rated a 19-gun salute which began precisely the second he stepped through the port. The Duke looked about curiously as gun after gun discharged to leeward, their thunder rolling over the river estuary. Sir Richard stood aside while Commodore Fanning stood stiffly. "Welcome aboard, your Excellency!" "Thank you, Commodore! A pleasure to meet you. You know Major General Hobbs and Colonel Benteen?" "Yes, indeed, your Excellency. May I present Captain Sir Anthony Carter?" "A pleasure, Sir Anthony!" And so it went on until all officers had been introduced to the Viceroy. Commodore Fanning and Sir Richard then presented the ship, stressing that Asia had been the French L'Alceste, captured by the Clyde frigate off Rochefort. "I certainly remember that feat, Sir Anthony," the Viceroy said pleasantly. "It was a relief to all, after that disappointing affair off Finisterre. You served at Trafalgar, too?" "I had that honour, your Excellency," Tony answered as was expected of him. With a well developed tact, the Viceroy next addressed Fanning. "And I know full well who taught him his craft. I can still remember your exploits in the Caribbean before the peace, Commodore. We can count ourselves lucky to have two such daring and distinguished officers protect Ireland's coasts." Fanning nodded. "I was lucky to have Sir Anthony for my lieutenant back then, and I am now, to have him as my captain." After some more pleasantries, the Commodore led the guests to the after cabin. The table there had been hurriedly set for two more guests. A sallow faced elderly man introduced as Mr. Danby looked at the table and his face fell. "My wardroom would see it as an honour to have the gentlemen of his Excellency's retinue for dinner," Tony explained with a straight face. He had earlier that day briefed Lt. Dougherty on the need to entertain the Viceroy's staff and impressed the need for the officers to stay sober. No need for his lieutenants to run their mouth. Six men sat down at the table in the great cabin, three Navy officers and three Army, for His Excellency wore his uniform, too. During the first courses, conversation was light, mostly kept alive by the Duke and Sir Richard. Then Major General Hobbs entered the conversation with question addressed to Tony. "Rumour has it, Sir Anthony, that you are an avid swordsman. You certainly more than held your own against Selkirk." "It was an even fight to the end, only decided by a brief slip on the part of General Selkirk," Tony answered calmly. He was used to this topic by now. "Where do you practice, Captain," Benteen asked next. "Mostly on my own deck. I took some lessons from Mr. Remington in Jamaica, when I was a midshipman. I only became interested seriously when I was gifted my Toledo sword." Of course, now he had to tell how Don Alonso had bestowed the sword on him, and the outlandish story of the Spanish monastery on Haiti came next. Commodore Fanning then told of his travel to Holland, before General Hobbs related stories from the American war. After the last course, and true to Sir Richard's promise, French Brandy was served and cigars were passed. The gentlemen settled back in their chairs. "I believe, now is the time for Commodore Fanning to relate his most recent exploit," Sir Richard said pointedly. "I must ask your Excellency and you gentlemen to treat his report as confidential." Fanning was slightly nervous, Tony could see. He took a sip of the excellent Brandy before he started. Nevertheless, he gave his recount of the chase succinctly, touching the risks only en passant. He described how the gig's crew had salvaged whatever they could find in the lugger's cabin, mentioning John Little and Eric Johnsen by name, and then he produced the captured letters. He proceeded to read aloud from them, and for the first time, Tony learned of their contents. The first letter was addressed to the Lord Justice Pelham, the very judge who had sentenced O'Shaunessy. First, the writer congratulated the Justice and Melrose for their success in making the stout Irish patriots martyrs. The letter made it clear that the trial, and a few more before and after, were designed to incite the Irish against the Crown, by arresting and sentencing upright and popular Irish gentlemen. The writer even scorned those men, claiming that being executed or deported would be their first useful act against the Crown. Next, Melrose was criticised for bringing O'Shaunessy to trial and failing to produce convincing evidence. That sentence, the writer maintained, had cost the 'movement' dearly, for some backers were now leery to lend support. The letter also named a few more co-conspirators, among them the sallow-faced Mr. Danby, the Duke's private secretary. The Viceroy had turned grave, hearing Fanning's reading, and so had the two Army officers. When Fanning ended, the Viceroy's mouth was thin. "Who is this letter from?" "It is signed Henry Leonard Batiste Chevalier de Montsante, Private Secretary to His Highness the Comte d'Artois." "A Bonapartist spy, likely as not," General Hobbs opined. There was no dissent. The Viceroy cleared his throat. "I must thank you, Commodore Fanning, for bringing this urgent matter to my attention. The plan, I gather, is to incite sentiment against the Crown by betraying Irish patriots who are then tried and sentenced harshly by Justice Pelham?" "That would seem to be the case," Sir Richard agreed. "Have those men been transported yet?" the Viceroy asked sharply. Colonel Benteen shook his head. "No, your Excellency. They are still awaiting their transport. Those sentenced to death have appealed for clemency, as you know." "Kindly stay the proceedings, Colonel. I shall commute all those sentences in the King's name. Now, for those conspirators, gentlemen. What are your suggestions?" "Their public discovery and trial may do even more damage," Hobbs said judiciously. With more satisfaction than he had thought possible, Tony made a suggestion. "If it pleases your Excellency, both Pelham and Melrose are officers in the Militia. An Army court martial for high treason is not public." Hobbs worried face smoothed. "By Jove! I can assemble a court martial in less than a week if need be." "That would indeed be a practicable solution to a tricky situation," the Viceroy nodded. "Very well, Gentlemen. We shall act quickly and decisively. Commodore, will you lend General Hobbs those documents? I assure you that your decisive role in uncovering this plot will be made known to H.M. government and to your naval superiors." Fanning handed the letters to the Major General who stowed them into his breast pocket with great care. Another round of Brandy was served and the men partook of it almost in silence. Finally, it was time for his Excellency to return to the shore, and his staff was alerted. The private secretary, Mr. Danby, was more than a little drunk, and Tony looked at Lt. Dougherty with eyebrows raised. Dougherty made a face and shrugged. Danby noticed the Viceroy's cold stare. He looked away and rushed for the port. Fanning half turned to Tony, talking through the corner of his mouth. "I'd drop him over the side during the crossing and be done with him," he hissed. Danby clearly had problems with his balance as he navigated the Jacob's ladder, and before anybody could react, he slipped and lost hold. His cry was cut short when his head bumped against the gunwale of the launch and he fell between the launch and Asia's side. The boat crew instantly attempted to grab for him, but he had sunk under, and the ebb tide was running strongly. He was three or four fathoms away when he came to the surface again, face down in the water. There was the inevitable delay while the launch crew cast off from Asia's port, and then they had to search the rapidly running water in near darkness. At Tony's command, two side boats had been lowered to assist in the search. The Viceroy watched the proceedings for a few minutes with his officers, then he came over to where Tony stood. "This may be a fortunate accident, Sir Anthony. I should hate to see my personal secretary exposed as French spy." Tony felt slightly appalled at the Viceroy's casualness. "The fall must have rendered him unconscious, your Excellency. The boats have been searching for him for nigh on ten minutes. I fear he has drowned." "He was as good as dead anyway," Lord Richmond answered calmly. "This way, his family will not suffer the shame of his exposure." Just now, the side boats were returning. Tony heard the squeaky voice of Midshipman Uxbridge. "Ship ho! We found him!" The boat made fast to leeward and the lifeless bundle that had been His Excellency's private secretary was lifted on deck. Uxbridge rushed aft. "Sir Anthony! We found him, but he's not breathing anymore." "Well done, young man. Mr. Dougherty, make signal to the other boats to return. Mr. Uxbridge, you may turn in." Meanwhile, Jonathan Wilkes had examined the lifeless body. He came aft to report. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, Sir Anthony. He obviously drowned." "Thank you, Dr. Wilkes," Tony responded. He turned to the Viceroy. "I regret to inform you that Mr. Danby is dead." "What a terrible ending to this day," Richmond answered. "I must thank you for recovering his body so he may be interred properly by his family. I fear there is nothing left to do for us but return to the shore." The Viceroy turned to Commodore Fanning and thanked him for the invitation. Major General Hobbs gave Tony a brief, sardonic smile. "One worry less for his Excellency. He's right, though. We have to plan the next steps. Thank you, Captain." Eight boatswain's pipes twittered as the ranking visitors left through the port, anxiously watched until they sat safely in the launch. While the launch left Asia's side, Lt. Dougherty approached his captain. "Sir, I deeply regret this incident. Mr. Danby suddenly started drinking insanely, right after ... Well, Sir, you must know that young Mr. Chandler ran his mouth about our chase through Menai Strait. He had a glass or two too many, in spite of my admonishment, and he started telling stories while I briefly left the wardroom. I even heard him name the lugger, in spite of my clear orders." That was it. Danby must have known that his game was discovered. He must have drunk himself into a stupor out of fear. "This was most unfortunate, Mr. Dougherty. I hold you without fault. Nevertheless, Mr. Chandler's acting lieutenancy is revoked. Who is next in line?" "The other midshipmen are awfully young, Sir. Mr. Sweeny may be best suited." James Sweeny was a master's mate. Tony had noticed him several times. He certainly was the best warrant officer they had. "Very well, Mr. Dougherty. Inform Mr. Sweeny of his acting appointment and have Mr. Chandler report in my cabin." The stewards were at work in the cabin, clearing the table and cleaning. Tony sat at his desk by the light of an oil lamp, entering Mr. Danby's fatal accident into the log book when young Mr. Chandler reported. Tony noticed the glassy look and the unsteady legs. Under Tony's scrutinising stare, he began to shift on his feet. "Mr. Chandler, Mr. Dougherty has informed me of your poor conduct. You were given express orders not to talk about the incident in Menai Strait, yet you gave your tongue free rein. Have you anything to say in your defence?" Chandler looked at him stupidly, possibly without comprehension. Tony shrugged. "Mr. Chandler, you have shown yourself still unfit as an officer. Obviously, you need more service to learn your duties. You will revert to midshipman's rank for another six months. You will shift your gear from the wardroom and back into the gunroom immediately. Mr. Sweeny will take over your acting duties." "Sir!" Chandler began. "Yes, Mr. Chandler?" "Sweeny is..." "Mr. Sweeny to you, Mr. Chandler!" "Sir, Mr. Sweeny is only a..." "I shall attribute your conduct to the spirits you consumed, Mr. Chandler. Mr. Sweeny is your superior now, and you will show him proper respect. Do you understand?" Chandler mastered his anger. "Aye-aye, Sir!" "Very good. Another thing: you will not receive spirits for a fortnight. You were to have the Middle Watch. I shall not tolerate an officer in my ship who is drunk on watch. Learn to control your drinking, Mr. Chandler. This is all I have to say. Dismissed!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" Chandler answered meekly. Obviously, he finally realised his misconduct. "I shall take your words to heart, Sir." He left the cabin and Tony pondered the situation. He would have to be alert to prevent Chandler from venting his anger and frustration on the junior midshipmen. Sweeny would have to be alert, too, to exercise his new authority as acting lieutenant. Tony was far too excited to turn in. Instead, he opened one of the books he had taken along, Gibbon's Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. It had been recommended to him for its perceived analytical brilliance. Nevertheless, Tony had a hard time maintaining an interest for more than two or three pages at a time. Tony heard a murmur outside and then the sentry knocked. "Sir, Doctor Wilkes to see you!" "Send him in!" Tony was relieved over the interruption. He much rather had a talk with Jonathan Wilkes than read about the ineptitude of emperors. "Have a seat, Jonathan," he greeted his friend. "Brandy?" Dr. Wilkes shook his head, smiling wrily. "No, I'd better not. I have Jamison in the sick bay. He's feverish now, and I may have to amputate on short notice." Tony made a face. Able Seaman Jamison's foot had been mangled under a pork barrel. Such injuries were often prone to mortification. "What's on your mind, then?" "Lucy. Who else should be on my mind," Jonathan answered with a smile. "She had planned to move to Dublin, to be close to me. Now we are posted off Spain. Where are we going to be based?" "Gibraltar," Tony answered. "I wanted to ask, is there a way for her to take lodgings in Gibraltar? I suppose we have to victual the ship every two months, right?" "I should think so, yes. From what my father-in-law told me, Harriet is contemplating the same." "It's ... I know it is not my business, but will you..." Jonathan blushed. "Will I forgive her? Well, I have. I'm waiting for the chance to tell her in person, but I cannot see myself without her. I imagine, having Lucy for a companion will be further inducement for Harriet to follow me to Gibraltar." "That would be a relief for me." "Same here," Tony laughed. "It'll be a dull duty, blockading Cadiz or any other port, make no mistakes. Seeing our wives every other month will help us cling to our sanity." "May I write to Lucy and give her the news?" Tony thought briefly. "Tell her to contact Harriet. Let the two women make their own planning. My father-in-law can assist them." "Thank you. May I give that information to Mr. Dougherty, too?" "By all means, yes. I have really come to rely on him. His wife did not strike me as the adventurous type, but my perception may have been clouded by your concoctions." That settled, Jonathan rose to return to the sick bay. It was past midnight, Middle Watch in other words, and Tony followed his friend on deck. There was Acting Lieutenant Sweeny, pacing the quarter deck with all the nervous excitement to be expected so shortly after his promotion. As soon as he saw his captain, he rushed over. "Sir?" "Nothing, Mr. Sweeny. I just came on deck to clear my head and get some fresh air." "Oh. Sir Anthony, may I express my gratitude for the chance you are giving me?" "Mr. Sweeny, you have shown yourself as deserving of such an opportunity. Do your duty, listen to your orders, and stay sober. That is all I can ask." Sweeny swallowed hard. "Aye-aye, Sir." "Well, I better go below. Good night, Mr. Sweeny." "Good night, Sir Anthony." ------- All through the next day, officers and crew of the Asia busied themselves with repairs. In the afternoon, though, there was excitement when a large frigate entered the port. Tony had never seen her before, but he guessed her to be HMS Indefatigable. This was verified soon, when the ship showed hoisted signal flags. "Sir, it's the Indefatigable, 44, Captain Armitage," Lt. Sweeny announced. "Indefatigable to Asia, have mail." "Very well. Reply, Asia to Indefatigable, welcome. Come aboard." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Tony watched as a gig neared, a captain in its stern sheets. Armitage was his junior by four months, he knew. Four boatswain's mates assembled at the port, and the twitter of their pipes greeted Captain Armitage when he came up the Jacob's ladder. Tony stepped forward. "Welcome aboard, Captain." "Thank you, Sir Anthony," Armitage replied. He was older than Tony by ten years, and his body was thin and slightly lopsided. He had a very good reputation, Tony knew. "I assume you wish to see Commodore Fanning?" "Indeed, Sir Anthony. I carry despatches for him and for you." "Let me show you the way then," Tony answered, leading his visitor aft. Fanning was already waiting for them, and again, polite greetings were exchanged. Armitage handed over a very large envelope to Commodore Fanning and a smaller one to Tony. Fanning has his steward bring refreshments for his visitor before he opened the envelope. He smiled broadly, reading his orders. Meanwhile, Tony was reading his own orders. As forewarned, Asia was ordered to join Sir Charles Cotton's squadron after refitting in Portsmouth. That was indeed good news. He would be able to spend two weeks at least in his house and with Harriet. "Hrhm," Fanning made, to get Tony's attention. "Captain, may I trouble you to raise all hands and prepare to hoist my flag?" Armitage looked taken aback. "Sir, I had assumed..." "Captain, I shall shift my flag tomorrow. Tonight, however, Asia is still part of my squadron and she is my flagship, if only for one night." "I shall see to it at once, Sir. May I offer my sincere felicitations?" Tony replied, genuinely pleased over the compliment Fanning was paying his ship. "Thank you, Sir Anthony. We shall have a celebratory dinner tonight. May I trouble you to lend me your steward? Splendid. Perhaps Captain Armitage and his officers can join us? Formidable! Say, Sir Anthony, your coxswain is reliable, I gather. May I borrow his services to give note to my wife? I would love to take this opportunity to acquaint her with my future flag captain." The consideration mollified Armitage. He smiled wryly, looking about Asia's great cabin. "This cabin may be indeed better suited to host a dinner, Sir. Indefatigable cannot offer you the same accommodations and comfort." "That's understood, Captain," Fanning smiled. "She's a good ship, nonetheless, with a proud past." He turned to Tony. "Your own orders?" "Portsmouth for refitting, then a convoy to Gibraltar and then rendezvous with the squadron, Sir." "Nothing surprising, in other words. At least, you'll have it warm while we have to patrol the Irish Sea in winter." "I always held that the patrolling of the Irish Sea was preferable to blockade duty, Sir," Tony answered honestly. "I shall call for all hands." Tony left the cabin and assembled the officers on the quarter deck to inform them of Rear Admiral Fanning's promotion. Captain Bell of the Marines called for his sergeant to organise the music, and within minutes, the "Lobsters" formed file on the quarter deck. Meanwhile, the crew assembled on deck in divisions, and the gunner readied the poop guns for the eight-gun salute due to a rear admiral. When all was finished, Tony went aft. "Sir, we are prepared." Fanning nodded, a grin on his face. "Let's go! Captain Armitage, may I ask you to join us on deck?" Of course, Armitage followed them. As soon as Fanning stepped out on the quarter deck, the marine band began to play "Hearts of Oak". This was Acting Lieutenant Sweeny's big day. As the new signal lieutenant, it was his duty to have the Red Ensign hoisted. He stood stiffly to attention as Fanning handed over the bundle and then stalked to the foot of the main mast. "Permission for hoisting, Sir?" he called when his signal mate was ready. Fanning nodded. The bundle rose up along the halliard. Once it reached the mast head, the signal mate jerked a thinner line, and the flag flew out from the masthead. At precisely the same second, the first gun roared out, with seven more following in ten-second intervals. This was followed by eight guns from Indefatigable and a few minutes later, the harbour battery joined in the salute. "Very commendable, Gentlemen," Rear Admiral Fanning stated. "Tonight, let the crew have brown ale at my cost." Tony nodded at the boatswain in a prearranged signal. In response, the topmen raced up the ratlines and manned the yards. Then the boatswain, with his stentorian voice, roared out, "Three Hoorays for our Admiral! Hip-hip!" "Hooray!" the crew answered. And then again, "Hooray! Hooray!" Fanning was clearly moved by this display. "It is a good day, indeed. Captain, perhaps your coxswain can also call your dear father-in-law to join our dinner?" "I am certain that he will be pleased to join in the celebration, Sir," Tony answered. He turned to his First Lieutenant. "Kindly dismiss the free watch, Mr. Dougherty." "I shall need a flag-lieutenant," Fanning stated. "Any suggestions, gentlemen?" Politely, Tony waited for Armitage to answer. The frigate captain shook his head, though. "We're newly commissioned, Sir. I'd be hard pressed to recommend any of my lieutenants." Tony looked over to where Dougherty was standing. The First Lieutenant shook his head. Tony understood. In the Asia, Dougherty was the number two man, and any successful engagement could propel him up the career ladder. Tony thought of his other lieutenants. "Sir, Lt. Galbraith is an able young officer." "Galbraith, eh? He's a bright young man to be sure. I'll try him. Have him report to my cabin, please." For Adam Galbraith, serving as flag lieutenant, would be a distinction and a chance, much better than staying in Asia as third lieutenant. He had earned this chance. Galbraith's transfer posed a problem, though. He needed a new lieutenant. But then again, he could find a replacement in Portsmouth. It would be strange if in a port as big there would be no lieutenant looking for employment. In all the excitement over the arrival of Indefatigable, Tony had almost forgotten about the evening before. The memory came back, though, when he gave orders to John Little to deliver the billets to Mrs. Fanning and to Sir Richard. Little returned a good two hours later. Sir Richard had been at Dublin Castle, and Little had followed him there. How he had managed to gain access to the Viceroy's private quarters, Tony did not learn. Suffice to say that he had delivered the invitation. That was not all. He also received, from the Viceroy's hand, a purse containing two-hundred pounds, for distribution among the gig's crew. This was for the salvage of the documents from the lugger's cabin. "They must be mighty important documents, Sir," Little stated with a smug grin. "I imagine they are, my good man. How do you plan to share the money?" "Ten pounds a head for the gig, Sir; twenty pounds extra for young Johnsen and me, seeing that we found the papers. The rest should go to the side boats. They risked a lot, too, going between those rocks." Tony nodded with satisfaction. "Very laudable, Mr. Little. That should allow Johnsen to make an honest woman of young Jenny." "Would that he sees her soon, Sir. The boy's right miserable." "I imagine so is Jenny. Tell him ... Better not. Let's not raise his hopes before we can know for sure." "Aye-aye, Sir. I wouldn't mind seeing my Inez again either." "Very well, Mr. Little. See to the distribution of the money. Also tell Giles to have my Nº 2 uniform ready for the evening." Little left then, and Tony walked his quarterdeck for another half hour, to clear his head and plan the next moves. He needed an excuse to delay his departure for Portsmouth until Harriet returned from whatever she was doing in Ulster. If he left before her, chances were they would not see each other before he sailed for Gibraltar. With Selkirk and his followers off his back, he might even have her travel in the Asia. An extra week together would help them. Sir Richard came early, in fact more than an hour early. Fanning greeting him at the port, for the first time wearing his rear admiral's uniform, complete with two-master hat. As a commodore of the first class, it would have been Fanning's prerogative to wear a rear admiral's uniform. So far, however, he had worn his captain's coat. "My felicitations, Fanning! I see you were prepared for the eventuality?" Fanning grinned. "I was told to expect my flag shortly, Sir Richard. Rather than relying on some Dublin tailor, I decided to take an extra sea chest along." "A wise choice." Sir Richard lowered his voice. "There may be a decoration for this uniform in the offing. The Viceroy will put you in for a knighthood. They found more evidence in Pelham's house, implicating more traitors. This was a large conspiracy. The Duke can clean up the mess left undiscovered by his predecessors. He is going to look good." "I take it we can allow our officers ashore now?" Tony asked. "Yes, of course. All the arrests have been made. The Viceroy reinstated your friend, Justice Colton, to handle the smaller cases. The main conspirators will be tried before a court martial. You will both testify to establish the documents as true evidence. This should not keep you long. His Excellency is pressing things. The courts martial may be held within a week." A week! That should be enough for Harriet to return. Suddenly, Tony knew that his father-in-law was doing his utmost to facilitate their reunion. A report to the Viceroy, signed by Fanning and Tony, would have sufficed to establish the captured letters as evidence. Yet, Sir Richard had obviously persuaded the Viceroy of the necessity of their evidence. Tony caught the knowing smile on the older man's face, and he smiled back, giving him a nod. Yes, if Harriet was willing, they would put the Selkirk affair behind them. Captain Armitage and his officers arrived on time. They were properly awed, meeting a full admiral, but Sir Richard was his amiable self, putting the junior officers at ease. Mrs. Fanning ruled the table again with her endearing vivacious nature. Tony felt a little sad. The last time he had seen Mrs. Fanning had also been his last evening with Harriet. He could still see her, sitting on the stern gallery, reading a book, as she had done during the crossing to Barbados. Not ten feet away from this cabin, they had shared a bed on Tony's bedchamber. They'd had breakfast at this very table for over two months. He only came out of his train of thought when something in the conversation caught his attention. He searched his memory, but it took him a few moments. Yes. Fanning was telling the visitors about their chase through Menai Strait. "You should have seen this. We were heading straight for those bloody shallows, excuse my words my dear, and this man even shakes out the t'gallants, to gather speed. I swear, we scraped over the sand, only just making it across." All eyes were on Tony. "It should save us a stay in the dry dock. We got rid of all the damned seaweeds," he declared with a straight face. The comment raised laughter around the table, as Tony had planned, to divert people's attention from his own foul mood. Captain Armitage stared at Fanning and Tony. "I'm from Liverpool, Sir. Nobody in his right ... I mean, without urgent need, nobody would sail the Strait. Not in a tall ship, at least." "Captain, don't be shy!" Sir Richard laughed. "Nobody in his right mind would sail that strait. It was ... Well, let's leave it. They made it, and they shaved their bottom clean in the process." More laughter was following those words, and for a few minutes, Tony participated in the lively discussion. Later, however, he felt the melancholy again. When the time came to break up the table, Sir Richard gave Tony a sign to follow him on the deck. "You seemed preoccupied, Anthony. It's about Harriet, right?" Tony nodded. "Look here, she'll be back in the next days, and you have to give evidence in a week. You'll see her. When you'll sail for Portsmouth, I shall commandeer Fanning's cabin for my use. I'll bring my daughter along, too. Let them raise trouble over that!" That made Tony smile. "I was thinking, since I'll have to make land in Gibraltar, I could give Harriet transport, too?" "I'll clear it with the Admiralty. For God's sake, we'll reimburse them for the passage if need be. It'll be safe in the Asia, too. That hoopla was only because Selkirk's clique made noise in Parliament." Tony nodded. "We certainly can use the time together." "You must come and dine with me tomorrow. I'm in the Golden Cross. Two bells in the First Dog Watch?" "I'll be there, unless..." "I know, I know! If Harriet returns before that, I'll send her over at once." True to his word, Rear Admiral Fanning shifted his flag to Indefatigable at four bells in the forenoon. Once again, an eight-gun salute was fired as his flag rose to Indefatigable's maintop. During the rest of the morning, Fanning's personal gear was shipped to his new flagship, and by early afternoon, Tony had the after cabin to himself. He spent the next hours receiving the reports from his officers and warrant officers, regarding the needs for repairs and refitting. Tony had the nagging concern that by touching the shallows during the chase they might have lost copper sheets from their bottom. He would ask for time in the dry dock, to check for damage. Other than that, Asia was a sound ship. The carpenter had reported no rot, nor any damaged timbers. It paid that the dockyard had not rushed the repairs, in Portsmouth. He would need more furniture, now that the great cabin was his alone. Captain's stores were another matter. He could expect to host his fellow captains frequently. He would need herbs and spices, coffee too. Wine could be found cheaper in the Mediterranean but Irish stout ale would endear him to his guests. More dinnerware would also be needed. Sighing, Tony sat down and wrote a list of items and groceries needed for at least one year. Finally, it was time to meet Sir Richard for an early dinner. A small schooner was coming upriver, from the sea, and Tony was tempted to wait for its arrival. Knowing his father-in-law's stand on tardiness, he decided to have himself rowed ashore anyway. He found Sir Richard in the common room of the Golden Cross, going through some papers. He looked up when Tony entered and stood. "Ah, there you are, Anthony. Come, have a seat! I have news." Tony took off his sword belt and sat down opposite Sir Richard. The admiral smiled at him. "They are still interrogating Melrose. He is talking faster than those poor secretaries can write. There is a net of Bonapartist spies, and the Viceroy is moving fast. I told Fanning yesterday that the Duke will put him in for a knighthood. That's given now, with the magnitude of the conspiracy. He will also ask to have you rewarded for your role." Tony smiled at this. "How? I'm a full knight already, a Colonel of the Marines, too." "There are ways. Perhaps, they'll gift you a sword of honour, one of those one-hundred guineas affairs." Tony laughed, pointing at his Toledo sword. "Richard, I already have a sword in the value of one-hundred guineas. Likely far more." "Yes, but an English blade would give Harriet some relief." "How so? Why would she care about my sword?" "Can't you see it? That sword is connected to that Spanish woman who had your heart, even for a week or less. How can Harriet not feel awkward seeing it at your side?" "She never said anything, and the sword was the gift of the Spanish governor." Sir Richard spread his hands. "I know. It's a weapon, for you, and a powerful symbol of your status. Women think differently, however. Keep it, of course, and use it when you depend on a good blade. Only, when on shore and in society, wear a fancy English sword. For Harriet, that might be a powerful symbol, too." Just then, the door to the common room opened and in its frame stood a woman, silhouetted by the daylight from behind. Tony recognised her anyway. In a flash, he was up, and with five long strides he reached her. There was no doubt left when he looked at the love that shone from Harriet's eyes and he wrapped her into his arms in a violent hug. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 9: The Unlamented Chevalier The second his lips touched Harriet's, he felt a load fall from his shoulders. There was no doubt left, no resentment. He felt her lips smile under his kisses, while her eyes were closed and her face relaxed in bliss. "Hrhm!" Sir Richard made, but there was a silly grin on his face. It was to no avail. Neither Tony nor Harriet heeded him. They were lost to the world for a space of several minutes, seeking comfort in the close embrace and the tender kisses they shared. Reluctantly, Tony allowed his brain to return to the world. He held Harriet at arm's length, looking her up and down. She returned his gaze with her green eyes, drinking in his sight. "I almost..." - "I was so..." they started simultaneously. Laughingly, Tony kissed Harriet's hand. "You first." "I was so happy to see Asia at anchor. I was afraid that I would miss you again. Now you." "I almost despaired at seeing you again. Those last months were terrible, apart from you, not only physically but also in spirit." "I know, dearest! Oh, how I know that. When you wrote me that letter, you know, after that reception, I read it at least five times before I could believe my luck. Will you really allow me to be your wife again?" Tony nodded. "That was never in question, Harriet." "Will you trust me again?" "I think I can. Harriet, will you be loyal to me?" "A hundred times, yes! I know now how terribly I misjudged your motives. In your handling of Mr. O'Shaunessy's case, you showed your steadfastness amply. I shall never doubt you again. Tony, may I go to Gibraltar? I would like to welcome you whenever you come ashore. There are so many things now that we have to talk about, and there is so little time." "Your father and I have spoken about it, Harriet. I have to sail for Portsmouth first, for refitting. Your father commandeered the cabin for his use, and he insists on having his daughter accompany him. I shall escort a convoy to Gibraltar next, before I'll join Cotton's squadron. Need I say more?" Harriet's eyes grew big. "Really? That would be so wonderful! Father said ... Oh, here I stand, and I haven't greeted my father yet." She rushed over to the table and hugged Sir Richard. "Thank you, thank you! I know you made all this happen, in spite of the disappointment I was. I love you for it." "You are my daughter, Harriet. Of course, I was disappointed, but your mother and I will always look after your well-being. Besides, we see Anthony as our son, and he needs you." "Maybe the news I bring will ease your disappointment, too. I sold Uncle Jeremiah's property to a local land owner for £1950." "That's more than I expected. You did well. How did your travel go?" "Father, may I change first? There is so much to tell, and I'd rather sit down to relate all the news." "Same here, Harriet! You would not believe what Anthony will have to tell you!" "Now you make me curious," Harriet laughed. "I shall rush. Oh, Anthony, could you find it in your heart to have young Eric Johnsen come ashore for a night? Poor Jenny's been pining for him for months now, and you will hear soon how much I owe her for her brave and loyal service." Tony just smiled and nodded. While Sir Richard called for the landlord to negotiate a room for Harriet, Tony called in John Little from the tap room. Little grinned when he received his order, and he left quickly. Before Harriet returned from her room, Little was back, a flustered Eric Johnsen in tow. Tony regarded the young man for a moment. Not once in the past year or more had he given cause for admonishment, as far as Tony knew. He smiled at him. "Listen, Johnsen, and listen well. Here's a Crown. Go find a room in a decent tavern and come back here. Jenny Morgan is here with my wife, and she won't be needed before day after tomorrow. Neither will you. Be gentle with the girl, you hear! If she isn't all smiles day after tomorrow, Mr. Little here will see to it that you'll be sorry. I don't have to tell you what awaits a deserter, either. Dismiss!" "Sir, aye-aye, Sir! I shan't desert, that I promise! Sir, begging your pardon, will you allow me to ask Jenny for her hand? There never was time before, and two days may be all we'll have for years." "Go ahead, young man," Tony answered with a smile. "Make the girl happy. And don't worry too much about not seeing her. Stay in Mr. Little's good graces, and there'll be chances to see your sweetheart." "I will, Sir, indeed. I'm a proud Asian, Sir, and I aim to rise in the ranks." When Johnsen was off, Tony smiled at John Little. "Think we may rate him bosun's mate? He'll have a wife to support, soon." "P'raps, Sir, Mr. Oliver may find him useful?" Mr. Oliver was Asia's sailing master. "You'd think? Well, he knows letters and numbers, and he was a mate before Jenny's father shanghaied him. I'll speak to Mr. Oliver about it. With Mr. Sweeny as Acting Lieutenant, there's an opening anyway." Johnsen was a bright young lad. As master's mate, he could have a career in the service. Many captains and some admirals, too, had started their careers before the mast. The return of Harriet to the common room made Tony forget about Eric Johnsen and his future. Clearly, Harriet had dressed up for him, and her hair, freshly brushed, fell over her shoulders in a reddish-golden cascade. His eyes must have conveyed his appreciation, for Harriet gave him a beaming smile. "You are every bit as beautiful as you were in my memory, all these weeks," he said. She cocked her head. "I take it, you cannot spend the night on shore?" He shook his head with regret. Before he could answer, she put her hand on his arm. "I understand, my darling. I will not be selfish. We shall have time in Portsmouth, and then en route to Gibraltar. I am patient. You are worth the wait." Together, they joined Sir Richard at his table in the common room. Once they were seated, the head waiter attended to their wishes. As had become his custom, Tony had stout ale while Sir Richard and Harriet chose cider. While they were waiting for the food they had ordered, Harriet began to tell of her adventures in Ulster. More than once, Tony barely controlled his anger, hearing about the younger Clanton's attempts on his wife. He was only satisfied when Harriet recounted the final confrontation leading to Clanton's death and Siobhan's confession of her love for Captain Trilby. "That Captain Trilby, or Major Trilby, he is a lucky man," Tony opined at last. "Miss O'Shaunessy is a pleasant young woman." Harriet nodded wistfully. "She was a good friend to me in the end. I hope that I will see her again and that she will be happy." Tony caught on immediately. "As good a friend as Lucy?" he asked, certain that Harriet would catch his meaning. "A-almost," Harriet stammered, slightly flustered and blushing. "That reminds me, Jonathan asked whether Lucy would be welcome to accompany you to Gibraltar. He obviously wants to see his wife, too." "Do you even have to ask? Lucy is my dearest friend." "I know, Harriet. I told Jonathan to write home. She will call on you when you return to London." "Let's hope that our stay in Gibraltar will be happy," Harriet said. She shook off the sad thoughts. "So, my dear husband, what heroic deeds did you perform?" "Heroic? Foolhardy!" Sir Richard snorted, his gander still roused by the thought. "Suffice to say, your husband, under the benighted leadership of Fanning, risked ship and crew by sailing through the Menai Strait, south of Anglesey." "Is that bad?" Harriet asked, genuinely puzzled. "To my knowledge, Asia is the first ship of the line ever to sail that passage. He even admits to touching a shallow! He would have been beached for life had he lost his ship." "Why then did they do something so risky?" "We pursued a logger that was behaving suspiciously," Tony explained. "It turned out, once we caught her, that she was carrying secret letters by a group of conspirators and foreign agents. His Excellency has even put Fanning in for a knighthood for making that catch. They arrested ten or more conspirators in Dublin alone. The judge and the prosecutor in O'Shaunessy's case are among them." Harriet listened with open mouth. "Really? If they were conspirators against the Crown, why would they have Irish patriots betrayed and sentenced?" "To incite discontent," Sir Richard answered. "A Bonapartist spy is behind all this. The French may plan another invasion. It's true, the logger was a very important capture. They could not know it, though, when they risked the ship." Harriet looked at Tony with a sad smile. "Tony, you don't have to prove anything to me. I know that you are a brave man. Taking such risks is not necessary to make me realise my folly." Her words made Tony start. Was he trying to prove something? Was he being reckless? He considered the thought, but then dismissed it. "Harriet, this had nothing to do with you. Fanning gave me the order to pursue the logger. He knew the risk when he ordered it, he even offered me to register a protest. The tide was ideal, and I knew I could make it." Harriet nodded. "How long will you have to stay here in Dublin?" "There are the courts martial against the main conspirators. I shall have to give evidence. That may take a week. Why?" "I've been away from the children for over three weeks already." Sir Richard gave them a benevolent smile. "Major-General Hobbs has Fanning to testify. We planned that excuse for you to stay in Dublin, but now that Harriet has returned, you can just follow your orders and sail for Portsmouth." Harriet smiled wryly. "You don't leave anything to chance, do you?" "Not when the happiness of my daughter is concerned," the Admiral answered. Sir Richard excused himself a little later, claiming an appointment, leaving Tony and Harriet alone at the table. "I wish you could stay the night," Harriet sighed. "We haven't ... You and I haven't..." "Yes, it's been a long time," Tony answered softly. Then he grinned. "Did you at least enjoy the delectable Miss O'Shaunessy?" Harriet blushed a little. "She is a very good kisser, if you need to know. As for the rest, I was more teacher to her than anything. You ... You don't mind, do you? You never said anything about Lucy and me." "No, I told you before. As a matter of fact, I find the thought of you and Miss O'Shaunessy arousing." "I wager you would like to watch," Harriet stated with a trace of her old impishness. "Well, that ship has sailed. Siobhan will marry Major Trilby." Tony did not answer directly. "Perhaps, you can shift your things to Asia tomorrow. I distinctly remember the pleasure of sleeping in your arms." "Oh yes! I'd like that. We were so close then. Tony, can we be that close again?" "We have to. The cot isn't that wide," he answered with a smile. "You know what I meant." "I do. Harriet, I have forgiven you. For us to be close again, you have to forgive yourself next. You must not see every thing I do or say in the context of our fallout. Let go of the affair. I'll do the same." "I understand what you mean," Harriet sighed. "I'll be self-conscious for a while; I cannot help it." "Then it is for me to distract you," Tony answered. "I still remember ways to make you feel at ease." Harriet blushed, overwhelmed with memories. "I wager you do. I love you, Anthony Carter." "And I love you. Harriet, there is something for me to learn from this affair. I must not idealise you. I had painted that perfect picture of you in my mind, and I forgot that you are human, too." "You know, that's true. You do think too highly of me. But the reverse is also true. In my mind, you were infallible and invincible. That's why I did not see the danger for you in my actions." Tony turned serious. "There were moments in that duel when I felt fear, almost panic. Selkirk was good, not only technically good, but he has a fighter's heart. I was convinced that he'd best me. It was sheer luck that I was able to score my first hit, but that gave me the confidence to continue. Yet, thinking back, I learned where I'll have to improve my skills." For a few moments, Tony saw that Harriet was fighting against tears. Her jaw was set tightly and she breathed heavily. Yet, she prevailed. When he saw that she was calm again, he continued. "Harriet, your father said something this evening, before your arrival. Does this sword bother you? I know it is a reminder of my journey to Cartagena and all that happened during that journey." Harriet wagged her head. "The feelings are mixed. Seeing you with that magnificent weapon, seeing the envy of other men, gives me pride. Knowing that it is a gift from the man whose wife you bedded makes me resent it. Tell me honestly, Tony. What happened between that woman and you, would it have happened had you been married to me?" Tony shook his head with emphasis. "When we first talked about that affair, I was not sure. We did not know each other then. I had seen you but for a few days in the Anne Mary and then for some days in London. You had been married to Palmer, and I was not completely over that. Had you asked me then, I could not have answered that question without hurting you. Now that we are married, now that I know what it means to hold you in my arms, I am certain that I would have withstood any temptation. Besides, you do not know Doña Maria. She is a woman of principle, and she would have never encouraged a married man." "You're right, I don't know her. Perhaps, knowing her would put me more at ease. Is she beautiful?" "Yes, Harriet, very beautiful. Not in a wanton way, though. She was very sad, too, when I met her, and vulnerable." "I can see where that attracted you," Harriet threw in, even showing a smile. "A damsel in distress, beautiful and mysterious." "It appeals to any man," Tony grinned. "I felt kinship to her, too, thinking at that time that you had deserted me. We were two unhappy persons giving each other solace for one night. Think of it as akin to your own little trysts with Lucy." "I can try. Tony, darling, even if I feel misgivings seeing that sword on you, you should not give it up. If it serves you well in fighting and keeps you alive, this is far more important to me than who gave it to you." In response, Tony kissed her hand. "This is what I like in you, Harriet. You know and appreciate my profession. Perhaps, when they gift me an honour sword, I can wear that socially and keep the Toledo blade for fighting." Harriet thought about it, but then shook her head. "No, please don't do that on my behalf. You are used to it, and that is important for your safety." She looked at the sword, as it was lying on the bench behind Tony. "Its hilt and scabbard are worn. Will you allow me to have it refitted by a sword maker? Then it would have something of me, too." "An extra lucky charm, you mean," Tony asked. "I would like that." It was time for Tony to return to the Asia, and he settled the tab with the landlord. He escorted Harriet to her upstairs room. She entered reluctantly and only after he had kissed her once more. "This is the last night you will sleep alone," she whispered. "You had better gather strength." John Little was faithfully waiting for him when he came downstairs, and they left the Golden Cross together. Tony was in thought and did not feel like talking. John Little knew his captain well enough to pick up on his mood, and he walked silently, one step behind him. Preoccupied as he was, Tony was ill-prepared when a shadowy figure suddenly broke from the shadows to the right, wielding a dagger. It was John Little who reacted, throwing himself at the assailant. A moment later, Little uttered a pained cry and slumped to the ground, obviously stabbed. He had given his captain enough time to react, though. When the assassin pulled the dagger from Little's belly, Tony's sword was out and ready. The man froze when the sword tip pricked his throat. "Who are you and who sent you?" Tony snarled menacingly. "Porc anglais!" the man hissed back defiantly. "Espèce de gros porc!" Tony returned. His blade hit the hand with the dagger, almost severing the hand, before he smashed the basket of the hand guard into the assassin's face, stunning the man. Tony quickly knelt at John Little's side. "How are you, old friend? Where did he hurt you?" "Under my ribs, Sir. Doesn't hurt much." "That will change soon. We have to get you aboard the Asia and to Dr. Wilkes." Tony stood, looking about. A street urchin was peering at them from behind a barrel. "You there! Want to earn a Crown?" The urchin shuffled closer, clearly not trusting the officer who stood with his drawn sword. Tony fished for a shilling and threw it him. The little figure caught it adroitly. "Run for the harbour and find the gig from HMS Asia. Tell them, Mr. Little was wounded. Lead them here. Once you come back, this Crown is yours. The urchin nodded and took off. Tony knelt again and pulled away Little's hands from his stomach. There was blood, but not much. He found a kerchief and pressed it against the wound. "Our men will come soon, Little, just hang in. We'll get you in Dr. Wilkes care. You know him, the man can raise the dead." "Yes, Sir, he's a mighty good doctor. He'll patch me up. Only, if I don't make it, Sir, will you help my Inez?" "Never worry, Little. We'll get you to him if I have to carry you. But if anything ever happens to you, Inez and your child will be taken care of. This is the second time you saved my life, Little, and I'm not the forgetful kind." "No, Sir, I guess you aren't. It hurts a bit now." "That's what happens after a while when you're stabbed. Believe me, I know." "Yes, you've had a few holes in you, too," Little answered. "Sir, what happened?" Looking up, Tony saw Eric Johnsen, with Jenny Morgan. "We heard commotion, Sir, and I thought I knew your voice." "This man tried to stab me, and Mr. Little caught the blade instead. I've sent for the gig's crew. We must get him aboard and under the Doctor's care." Just then, the assassin began to move, and he groaned as his fingers felt for his broken nose. Eric Johnsen had brought along a club, likely the leg of a chair, and he hit the man over the head. "Not too hard, we may want to get some answers from him," Tony admonished the young man gently. "He'll not swing, Sir?" Johnsen asked incredulously. "Oh yes, he will, in the end," Tony replied grittily. "Bind up his arm, before he bleeds out." Jenny had been standing silently. "Sir Anthony, should I go and look after milady? She'll want to know about this." "That would be helpful, Mrs. Johnsen?" Tony answered with a question. "Yes, that's my name now." "Yes, please go. I'm afraid your husband is needed here. Tell Lady Carter not to worry and keep the door shut." Jenny nodded and ran off. "Congratulations, Johnsen," Tony said. Before the young man could answer, the sound of running feet came nearer. Five of the gig's crew were led by the street urchin. They even brought two oars along, something Tony had forgotten to order. The oars were stuck through Little's wide trouser legs and up, until they protruded from his collar. Using this makeshift stretcher, four men hoisted Little up and started a brisk walk towards the harbour. Eric Johnsen and the fifth man bound the assassin with his own belt and slapped him awake. Marching the dazed and moaning man between them, they took off for the harbour, too. Tony pulled out the Crown for the street urchin. "Thank you for your good service, my lad." The youngster took the coin and stared at the tall figure in blue and gold. "Sir, them men says yo're a right good cap'n an' yore ship's a happy one." Tony smiled. "You want to join? How old are you?" The youngster shrugged. "Do you have parents or other relatives?" A shake of the head was the silent answer, but then, the boy spoke. "I'm right hungry alla time, an' them men says there's plenty food in yore ship." Tony shrugged. Why not? "All right, follow me. We'll read you in." He strode ahead, and in no time, they reached the gig. Little already sat in the stern sheets, doubled over, and Tony took the helm in his stead. The assassin was bundled at their feet, and the gig shoved off. The men bent over their oars, and the boat flew over the dark water. In no time, they were hailed by the watch. "Asia!" Tony shouted. "Pass the word for the Doctor!" Not five minutes later, Dr. Wilkes and his surgeon's mates had whisked John Little into the sickbay. Tony remained on deck. On his orders, the assassin was bound to the mizzen mast. "Now, mon chevalier, will you kindly tell me who sent you?" he addressed the man who looked up surprised. Tony had had the time to think, and he knew the man as the ringleader of the conspiracy, the Chevalier de Montsant. "You think you can scare me, English pig?" the man mumbled defiantly. His head snapped back, when one of the gig's crew hit him squarely. He bent over the man, hissing angrily. "You dumb Frog, John Little is our mate. Talk with a civil tongue." "Benson, keep your temper in control!" Tony ordered softly. "Do your worst, English pigs!" the man hissed. Tony laughed at that. He turned to Lt. Dougherty. "Have that man put in irons for the night, if you please." "Should somebody look after his nose, Sir?" Tony shook his head. "Dr. Wilkes is busy with Mr. Little. Don't bother him with this coward. He can look after the prisoner after the flogging tomorrow." "You-you cannot 'ave me flogged! I am a nobleman!" the would-be assassin protested. "I demand treatment as a captured officer!" "You, Montsant, have given up any claim to being a gentleman when you waylaid us like a common footpad. You will receive three dozen lashes tomorrow before we will hand you over to the Dublin authorities." "You vill not dare zat! I am a Colonel in ze Imperial Army!" Tony bent low. "Unfortunately, you forgot to wear your uniform when you attacked us. That makes you a spy, and spies are hanged. Pour encourager les autres, n'est ce pas?" He turned to his First Lieutenant. "Mr. Dougherty, I picked up that boy on the street. He alerted the gig's crew for me, and he wants to join. Kindly read him in." Tony turned on his heel and went below. He went for the sickbay. Down there, in the light of several lanterns, Jonathan Wilkes was just bandaging Little's midsection. "How is he, Jonathan?" Tony asked. "The intestines have not been damaged, though his liver might. Bleeding is light. I put in a drainage and bound him up. Let's wait until tomorrow." "Will he make it? He took that knife for me!" "I cannot tell yet. It doesn't look too bad, but then you can never tell. I'll do my best." "I know you'll do, Jonathan." Tony bent over his coxswain. "How are you feeling?" "Like I've been stabbed, Sir," Little answered, raising a chuckle from the men around him. "I'm doing fine, Sir." "You keep lying still, d'ye hear! Listen to what Dr. Wilkes says, or I'll tell Inez!" "No, not that, Sir! She'll stab me another hole if she hears 'bout this." "All right then. I'll look after you later. Tomorrow, we'll deal with the man who stabbed you. You'll hear him when we'll do." When Tony arrived on the main deck, Lt. Dougherty was still on deck and Tony turned to him. "Tomorrow, that man will receive three dozen lashes, for attacking a crew member with a knife. Afterwards, we'll turn him in to the authorities." "Very well, Sir Anthony. Do you know why he did this?" Tony shook his head. "No. He must be one of the conspirators still free. I wonder ... Damnit! Mr. Dougherty, man the launch! I want twenty Marines to come with me. I must bring my wife and my father-in-law to safety. Send a boat to Indefatigable. Inform them of the danger for Admiral Fanning!" "Aye-aye, Sir! All hands, Mr. Durning!" The pipes shrilled, and the free watch stumbled on deck. Minutes later, the launch was lying alongside, with twenty Marines under Sergeant Mulligan. Tony sat in the stern, and soon, eighteen oars whipped the water to foam as the longboat dashed forward. At the quay, Tony had the marines form file, and they marched for the Golden Cross. It was fortunate that Sir Richard had just returned from his appointment, and Tony filled him in. "This may be serious, Anthony. We had better shift to the Asia, Harriet and I. Have her pack her gear; I'll get mine." Tony softly knocked on Harriet's door. "Who is there?" he heard Jenny's voice. "Sir Anthony. Open, I need to speak her!" "What was my mother's name, Sir?" Jenny's voice sounded from within. Tony nodded with satisfaction. Jenny was a smart girl. "Heather Duncan," he answered, and the door opened immediately. Harriet was dressed, and she flew into his arms. "How is Mr. Little?" she asked. "Jonathan has bound him up. He will live, I trust. Harriet, listen. We have to get you aboard the Asia. There are still conspirators free, and they may aim for our lives." "What about my father and the Fannings?" "Your father will come with us, and I have sent warnings to the Indefatigable. Come now, you need to pack." Harriet was ready in short time, and so was Jenny. Tony led them down the stairs, past the marines who were standing post in the corridor. Sir Richard was waiting for them, and they left the inn after paying the dismayed innkeeper. A church bell sounded the second hour, making Tony realise how tired he was. Harriet, too, was stumbling over the cobbled streets, and Tony gave her his arm to hold on. Under the watchful eyes of the Marine detachment, Tony helped Harriet into the launch. Sir Richard followed, and the sergeant let his men aboard one by one. They shoved off, and a few minutes later saw Harriet and her father in the Asia's spacious cabin where Tony's steward, Giles, helped them get settled. Tony had remained on deck where Lt. Dougherty reported to him. "I just returned from the Indefatigable. Admiral Fanning sends his respects and his thanks for the warning. He said nothing to fear, seeing that Mrs. Fanning was on board anyway." "Well, that is a relief. Admiral Lambert will take the port side after cabin for our short journey to Portsmouth. My wife will sail with us, too." "When shall we weigh anchor, Sir?" "After the corporal punishment. We'll send the man ashore afterwards." Harriet was waiting for him in the cabin, and she was agitated. "Is it true what they say? The man tried to kill you?" "I'm afraid so," Tony sighed. "If it were not for John Little, he would have stabbed me, too. I did not expect this. I only hope, Little will make it." "What will happen to that man? Who is he?" "A French spy. A Chevalier de Montsant. He was part of the conspiracy we uncovered, perhaps even the ringleader. Whatever and whoever he is, he'll get a taste of the Cat come the morning. Three dozen tastes, that is." "You'll have him flogged? He's a nobleman." "Not by his conduct. He may enjoy protection, I grant you that. All the more reason to give him at least that punishment." "I don't think that's wise, Anthony," his father-in-law's voice sounded from across the cabin. "The cowardly attack happened while you were on shore. Even bringing him aboard your ship may be seen as unlawful abduction." "You are jesting, aren't you?" "No, I'm not. Leave him to Hobbs and his courts martial. They have sent a man for Scotland, with orders for Montsant's arrest. They will be happy to take him from your hands." "The man tried to kill me, and he almost killed Little. You know how this will play out. He'll have his master intervene for him, and all the emigres will join in. In the end, he'll be pardoned. The lashing will likely be his only punishment." "You're stubborn, Anthony. Think it over, please. He's a nobleman. To have him flogged will make for bad blood." "I'll weigh it, Richard. Yet, if he's a nobleman, then he insulted me, and he must give me satisfaction." "You don't yield, do you? Fine, have him flogged, and be done with it." Shaking his head, Sir Richard went for his sleeping chamber. Harriet shook her head. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Tony just nodded. "Then I'm sure you have valid reasons. Shall we turn in? It must be past three in the morning." With a smile, he agreed. He would have only three hours, but at least he would spend them cuddled to Harriet. ------- Tony awoke after what felt like only minutes of sleep from a loud knock on his cabin door. "Sir, Mr. Dougherty's respects, and would you come to the quarter deck?" "Tell him I'll be right up!" he croaked. "Damn it!" "What is it?" Harriet asked sleepily. "I don't know. What can happen in harbour? This is not like Dougherty." He went on deck in shirt and trousers to see a grave Lt. Dougherty. "Sir Anthony, the prisoner, he is..." "Don't tell me he escaped!" Tony expostulated. "No, Sir. He's dead, Sir. We found him just a few moments ago, inside the locked brig. I locked him in myself, Sir, and only I and the master-at-arms have keys." An icy feeling washed over Tony. Were there conspirators on board, who wanted to silence the prisoner? "Have you alerted Dr. Wilkes?" "Yes, Sir. He's having a look at him, in the sick bay." Jonathan Wilkes arrived on deck just this moment. He nodded to Tony. "Good morning, Sir. I examined the body. The neck is bruised badly. Somebody crushed his windpipe, and then throttled him to death. He's been dead for less than two hours; he's still a little warm to the touch." "Mr. Dougherty, ask the crew. Find out whether anybody climbed into the hold after midnight. I suspect some crew member exacted revenge for Little's injury. I suppose, John Little can be excluded?" "I'd say so, Sir," Jonathan answered. "His wound has bled during the night, and he was in great pain." Tony had a hard time keeping his face neutral. He knew who had killed Montsant. John Little's warrior mind could not allow for his injury going unavenged. He must have crept out of the sick bay when the loblollies were asleep. Somehow, he had made Montsant come near the bars, and he had crushed his windpipe to silence him before he throttled him. That was why his wound had broken up. "Well, Mr. Dougherty, go about the investigation. Doctor, may I trouble you to write a report with your findings? I must inform the Viceroy's staff this morning." John Little had saved his life. Tony could not, would not expose his coxswain, least of all for the killing of that vile and cowardly traitor. He would have to cover Little. With a long drawn sigh, he returned to his cabin and sat at his desk, starting to write the report His Excellency would need. When the watch changed, Tony was on deck again. He called for all hands, and when the men had assembled in divisions, he spoke to them. "You men! Last night, one of you took it upon himself to avenge my coxswain, Mr. Little, by killing the prisoner. You will all be asked about it, but this morning, I give a chance to the man who did the deed. Step forward now. Confess, and you can appeal for mercy. The killed man was a traitor of the Crown, and the Viceroy may respond to an appeal for mercy. Step forward now, before the whole crew must bear the punishment!" The men stared at him, but nobody moved. "Very well! Mr. Dougherty, no grog rations today, and no shore leave for anybody. Dismiss crew!" The men returned to their stations or disappeared below. Tony retreated to the cabin. His father-in-law looked at him expectantly. "Any ideas who may have done it?" "Afraid not, Richard. He was locked in the brig. Whoever did this had people to cover for him." Sir Richard shrugged. "Well, I suppose this is as close to a perfect conclusion as we could hope. He's dead, and his murderer might or might not be discovered. You won't have him flogged, and yet no meddling Frenchman can save him. Let's compose a report for Richmond. I'll bet he'll be relieved. The whole affair can be pretty much hushed up." Tony looked at Sir Richard with surprise. "You think so?" "I am certain. Richmond loathes nothing as much as a public interest. Trying Montsant would have been a strain on the relationship with the emigres, too. Let's sit down for this report." They did, and before breakfast was ready, Tony sealed a linen envelope with the report he had written together with his experienced father-in-law. Secretly, Tony admitted that it would have taken him twice as long or more, but the old admiral had a lifetime of experience writing reports in a way that would not lead to too much questioning. When Harriet emerged from the sleeping chamber, still somewhat tired, the table was laid, and they enjoyed their morning meal with all the appetite one could expect after yesterday's excitement. Leaving Harriet behind to catch some more sleep, Tony and Sir Richard had themselves rowed ashore. Sir Richard was a well-known visitor at Dublin Castle, and they were led before the Duke in no time. In brief words, Tony reported the events of the last night. Sir Richard had been right. The Duke showed concern when Tony identified the assassin as the Chevalier de Montsant, but his face cleared when Tony came to that morning's discovery. "Well, at least this saves us some embarrassment and unrest," he commented. "My dear Captain, would it be asked too much to curb your efforts at discovering the man who so conveniently silenced Montsant? I fear that a court martial may cause public discovery of what is best left confidential. I believe we have contained the whole affair, and I should hate if details still leaked out." "If this is your wish, Your Grace, I shall end the questioning of the crew. To be honest, my hopes at discovery have not been very high. It was a dark night, and the ship was rolling at anchor, creating much noise in the timbers. It is unlikely that anybody saw more than a shadow or heard anything." "Let's leave it this way, my dear Captain. I must congratulate you on evading this attempt on your life. I hope you trusty coxswain will recover? A most unusual man, he is." "My surgeon is confident, your Grace." "You are bound for Spain?" "Yes, your Grace. After refitting, we shall join Sir Charles Cotton off Cadiz." "Splendid. I met Sir Charles once, during the peace. Kindly relay my greetings." "Certainly, your Grace," Tony answered dutifully. And that was the extent of interest anybody showed for the Chevalier's unlamented demise. After their return to Asia, Tony visited the sickbay. He found John Little awake and in pain. He shook his head and spoke in a low voice. "That was stupid, Little! The man was doomed anyway. What shall I tell Inez when your folly kills you?" "I don't rightly know your meaning, Sir. I've been lying still here, as you told me," Little croaked. "Yes, of course!" Tony snorted. "Don't ever do something like that again, d'ye hear!" "I still don't know your meaning, Sir, but I won't do it again," Little replied, now with a weak grin. Tony got up, and when he left the sickbay, he saw the whole gig's crew waiting outside. Shaking his head, he walked past them, not even wanting to think of their probable involvement. In the waist, Jenny was holding court, receiving the felicitations of the crew members. Eric Johnsen joined her and he, too, basked in the well meant ribbing they received. Some of the comments directed at the young couple would have made a mule driver blush, but Jenny was of sterner stuff, and she gave as good as she took, causing uproarious laughter. Mr. Dougherty could only report that nobody had heard or seen anything, and that he was at a loss how to proceed. When Tony told him of the Viceroy's wish to hush up the entire affair, the First Lieutenant was at once relieved and dismayed. "Sir, what will this do to the discipline?" "I believe we can have enough sail drill over the next days to establish discipline. Gun drill, too, and we'll start right this moment, before our newly wed couple is carried away. We should start by taking down the top masts and all the running gear. Next, bring them up again. While this is underway, we shall also practise to bring out a spring on the anchor cable." "Aye-aye, Sir," Dougherty grinned. "That should keep them from feeling too smug." The pipes shrilled, calling all hands, and the topmen fairly groaned when heard their orders. The waist crew laughed at first, but then Mr. Dougherty gave order to bring out the stern anchor cable from the cable tier, and their laughter died quickly. Morning and afternoon were spent striking the topmasts and bringing them up again repeatedly, while the gun crews and Marines practised anchor cable evolutions. Then, when everything was belayed, the crew was put to the task of cleaning the messy decks and coiling lines and ropes properly. They were indeed far from feeling smug when they were finally allowed to have their supper. Tony had stayed on deck all the time, too, and with all the bustle going on, Harriet had stayed in the cabin. Thus, at dinner, they saw each other for the first time since morning. Harriet grinned at him. "I never saw you working the crew so mercilessly," she remarked. "They know the reason," Tony answered. "This was not the last exercise either. I have to whip them into shape anyway. I don't know Sir Charles Cotton, but I don't want to show at the rendezvous with a sloppy ship." Sir Richard did not remark on this. He kept quiet during most of the dinner, allowing Harriet and Tony to speak about the immediate future. As soon as they would arrive in Portsmouth, Harriet would take a post chaise to London, to collect the children and the servants she would need. Tony would write instructions for Mrs. Blacket. They would let her look after High Matcham, but the house in Portsmouth would have to be closed down. Here, Sir Richard spoke up. "What are your plans with that house, Anthony? You have High Matcham, and then there is the City house. Do you need the Portsmouth house? I cannot see Harriet living in Portsmouth while you're at sea, away from her mother and from all her friends." "What are you suggesting then?" Tony asked, knowing something was on the older man's mind. "I believe Andrew would enjoy a decent home. Once the lease for the London house expires, we could have all your furniture moved there. It's just a house, and Palmer's ghost does not hover in it. Give it a remodelling, put in your own furniture, and you'll live comfortably in it." "This is something I need to think about. I also need to talk to Harriet. The bad memories are hers, not mine, and she should decide whether she wants to live in that house." "I like our house in Portsmouth, Tony. I have very good memories of it, and I know that we planned to live there. Father is right, though, in that I would rather live in London while you are at sea. Since I'll be gone to Gibraltar, however, we really don't need any of the houses for the next two or three years. Why not let Andrew rent the Portsmouth house and decide after we return?" That was sound reasoning, Tony thought. "I suppose that is sensible. Will you see to it, Richard?" "I'll write to Andrew. He barely ever comes to visit anymore, and he seems to loathe London. I suppose he is still ashamed and embarrassed over his gaffe with the Camden-Hill girl. If he ever comes to visit, all he does is moan over the loss of the Gutteridge girl." "Do you know what happened to Louisa, father?" Harriet asked, remembering shy Louisa Camden-Hill. "The word is, she married an American merchant, from Baltimore, and she left England with him." "I hope she can be happy in her new life. The poor girl!" Talk continued after that, but soon after darkness fell, Tony suggested they went to sleep. The night before had not afforded them much sleep, and Asia would weigh anchor with the morning tide. He briefly inspected the watch and gave orders for the night, but when he returned to the cabin and entered the sleeping chamber, Harriet was already wearing a nightshirt. She was brushing her hair and looked up at him with a hope in her eyes that was impossible to ignore. Tony stepped close and took her face in both hands. "Harriet, I need you. Are you ready for me?" "Yes, very much so." Her green eyes were dark and smouldering. "I have missed you so much!" Hastily, Tony took off his coat. The binder took a while to remove, but Harriet was already opening his breeches and she pulled them down deftly. In no time at all, Tony stood naked. Never taking her eyes from him, Harriet gripped the fabric of her nightshirt, and pulled it over her head. The flickering light of the oil lamp gave her skin a golden hue and made her tousled red hair shimmer. She looked incredibly beautiful to Tony, and for a short while, he luxuriated in the vision, drinking in her sight with hungry eyes. In a smooth movement, Harriet sank down on her knees. She gripped his hardening member and engulfed it in her mouth. Her eyes looked up at him as she sucked his member in, and the sight made him burst with raw desire. With two hands under her armpits, he pulled her up roughly, lifting her from her feet. His hungry mouth found her lips, and he forced his tongue into her mouth. She tasted differently, but he did neither register nor care. Her legs closed around his hips, and he felt her sex against his member. "Yes, yes, put it in! I can't wait. Put it in, please!" she gasped into his mouth. With his right hand, he managed to align his straining member with her opening, but before he could push in, Harriet pulled herself close with her legs and impaled herself. She buried her face in the hollow of his neck, whimpering softly, while Tony began to saw in and out of her tight opening. How could she be so tight, even after giving birth? His member was encased snugly in her folds, and he felt the contractions of her canal as he moved with steady rhythm. The position soon proved too cramped. Tony was a tall man, and he could not stand upright under the deck beams. Staggeringly, he moved to the cot. With Harriet clinging to him and deeply embedded in her, he sat on the cot. Harriet reacted, kneeling on the mattress now, and she began to match his thrusts by riding him up and down. She was still looking unwaveringly into his eyes, but he saw that her eyes became cloudy, losing focus, while her breaths became short and ragged. With an effort, she focussed on his face again. "This is so good, so wonderful!" she whimpered. Yes, it was magical. It was as if the months of estrangement had fallen off. They were one again, joined at the loins and moving in perfect harmony. There was no doubt that they belonged together. This woman in his arms was meant for him; her slender body stirred his lust stronger than any woman before in his life. The thrusting movements of his pelvis became urgent now, as he felt that the sensations of their joining and his emotional load were pushing him forward on the path to his release. Harriet had her eyes closed now, and her mouth was open, making small, keening sounds. Tony realised that she was about to start into full wailing, and he urgently pressed her face against his neck. A second later, he felt a sharp pain where Harriet bit down on his skin to stifle her own cries. The pain combined with his lust and he came violently. Two, three, four times his member jerked, and he became light headed, as if his very soul unloaded deep into Harriet. He felt more pain now, from his back, where Harriet's nails had dug into his skin, while her loin jerked against his member. "Mmmmmmmmmm!" her muffled moan sounded, just before she sagged against him, completely limp. "My darling wife, my wonderful woman," he whispered into her ear, as he rocked her softly. When Harriet finally responded, she lifted her face and pulled his head forward to kiss him. She tasted funny, like iron, and Tony realised that her lips were bloody. She must have noticed it, too, for they both looked at his chest where a thin line of blood was running down. "Oh, dear God!" she whispered. "Did I do that?" "Is it bad?" Tony asked weakly. "It looks terrible. I bit you. Oh, I'm so sorry. I did not know what to do. I was about to scream, and I couldn't do that while..." "Ssh! Harriet, darling, I will survive. We'll get you a leather strap for tomorrow night." "Let me wash your neck, Tony," Harriet said, obviously not hearing or understanding him. She carefully lifted herself off his lap, and his shrinking member, coated with their juices, fell on his leg. She went to the wash stand and poured water into the basin. Wetting a fresh wash rag, she came back and tenderly cleaned his wound. "You will be bruised badly. I'm sorry," she whispered. Tony laughed easily. "I say it was worth it." Harriet looked into his eyes again. "Yes, it was magical, wasn't it? From the first moment, I knew we were back together. To think that I almost lost that..." "You didn't, and that is important. Come, let us dress for the night and lie down." "Not before I cleaned us up," Harriet answered resolutely. Using the wash rag, she cleaned Tony's lap before she returned to the wash stand to rinse the rag. Then she washed her own midsection, before she found her nightshirt of the floorboards and put it back on. Tony, too, had found his shirt, and soon, the reunited lovers lay in bed, cuddling closely. "I think I will enjoy my next posting," Tony whispered into Harriet's ear, causing a happy giggle. "Oh, I'll wager you will. But so shall I." Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 10: Corsairs "Sunrise in fifteen minutes, Sir," Dougherty reported. "The extra provisions are stowed. Lieutenant Prince came aboard with that German doctor and with the extra hands for the squadron." Tony sighed inwardly. When he arrived at Portsmouth, two weeks ago, he had asked for a replacement for Lt. Galbraith. In turn, the Admiralty had saddled him with His Serene Highness The Prince of Seitz-Bunau, a German princeling whose principality had been swallowed by Bonaparte but who was a great-nephew of King George. He had joined the Navy in '05, as midshipman in a flush-decked sloop, the Atropos. As had to be expected, he had received his lieutenancy within two years. It was sheer luck that Mr. Sweeny had passed his exam mere days before him. As things stood, Mr. Prince was Sixth Lieutenant. The worst thing about him was the apparent need for his Chamberlain to accompany the young man to all his stations. The man was rated a ship's surgeon, and he had served in that capacity already. In the Asia, he would be a supernumerary surgeon under Jonathan Wilkes. As the harbour admiral had explained, this arrangement would allow the Baron Eisenbeiss to tend to his duties as chamberlain. At least, Mr. Prince had received excellent evaluations as midshipman, one of them from Captain Hornblower whom Tony knew from the blockade of Brest. Perhaps, the young man was not all bad. Tony looked around; it was time. "Kindly have the signal gun fired, Mr. Dougherty." The shot made thousands of seagull take to the air. Hopefully, it would also rouse the crews of the transports under Tony's care. Twelve sails were entrusted to the protection of the Asia. They were all bound for Gibraltar, with provisions and arms for the garrison, but also with supplies for Collingwood's Mediterranean Fleet and Cotton's squadron. There was also an old two-decker, the York. Without her maindeck and upper deck guns, 'armed en flute', she served as troop transporter, carrying reinforcements for Gibraltar, but also extra Marines for Sir Charles Cotton. It did not take clairvoyance to foresee landing operations. Fortunately, the weather was clear, and Tony was already able to see his charges in the light of the approaching dawn. When the wintry sun finally showed, the second signal gun was fired. The pipes shrilled and the crew manned the stations. Under the boatswain's supervision, the men began to turn the capstan. A minute later, Dougherty reported. "Anchor cable is up and down, Sir." "Fine. Set tops'ls. Quartermaster, as soon as you have steerage, south by southeast." Tony watched the transports which were in varied states of readiness. While some had weighed anchor, others were obviously lagging behind, in spite of the written orders Tony had distributed the evening before. One Navy transport, the Gwendolyn, did not even show any signs of life on her decks. "Bloody lubbers!" Dougherty pressed through his teeth. "Let's wake him, Mr. Dougherty," Tony answered, a malicious grin on his face. "Kindly have a starboard battery gun readied. Sandbag charge." "Aye-aye, Sir," Dougherty grinned back. This was something Tony had decided to try. Captain Armitage had told the story how he, when commanding a prise, had repelled boarders by firing bags of sand from the ballast. There had been no grapeshot or canister in the ship, but the sand had shown an impressive effect. Tony expected that firing a sandbag would not cause structural damage, but make a terrible noise on impact. While a gun was readied, Asia was approaching the laggard. Still, there was no sign of life. That would change soon. Asia was drawing close, and Tony heard the main deck 32-pounder being run out. A little backing of the topsails, and the Asia lost way, lying neatly alongside the transport at pistol-shot distance. The short blast of Tony's battery pipe was followed by the roar of the big gun. The transport keeled over under the impact of over twenty pounds of sand against her side. With grim satisfaction, Tony saw that the paint had been sanded off in a circle six feet wide. A moment later, a dishevelled Master appeared on the deck of the transport, wearing a shirt and nothing else. Tony took the speaking trumpet. "Good morning, Captain!" he hailed. "May I invite you to join our convoy?" All over the Asia's deck, men were holding their sides with laughter while the wild-eyed Master of the transport shouted at his shocked hands who crawled from the hatches. "I expect your report over this disgrace, Lieutenant!" Tony hailed as a parting shot. The transports were Navy ships, commanded by Navy officers. It was an employment for officers who could not hope for promotion, for whatever reasons. Tony could guess at the reasons why Mr. Malloy, the master of the Gwendolyn transport, was considered hopeless. Harriet appeared on the deck now, clearly worried. She was ready for sea, her hair in a braid, and wearing her heavy, suede leather skirt. "What happened?" Tony pointed at the Gwendolyn. "A little wake-up call," he grinned. "We tried nine-pounder signal guns first, but sand-bagging seems to be more effective." Harriet looked at the transport. "They overslept?" she asked incredulously. "Oh dear! How could that happen?" "Look at them! They're drunk." Tony came to a decision. "Mr. Dougherty, send Mr. Sweeny with a boat crew to take over the transport. Have Mr. Malloy sent over. Mr. Sweeny will sail the transport to Gibraltar." Asia backed her topsails again while the cutter was swung out. Sweeny saluted briefly and rushed over the side. In less than five minutes, the cutter was on its way back. Tony received Lieutenant Malloy on deck. "Well, Lieutenant, any explanation?" The man looked horrible, as if he had not slept a wink in weeks. "Th'watch must've been ashleep, Sir, an' they din't wake me," he slurred. "You slept over two signal guns?" Malloy obviously thought it better not to answer. "Mr. Malloy, consider yourself under arrest for dereliction of duty. Lieutenant Sweeny will sail the Gwendolyn to Gibraltar where you will be handed over to the harbour admiral. Mr. Dougherty, Mr. Malloy will be confined to Mr. Sweeny's cabin for the journey. He is to receive no wine or spirits." Realisation dawned on the man's face. "My ship! You can't take my ship from me!" he stammered. "I'm afraid you leave me no choice. Repair yourself to the wardroom." Dougherty led the tottering man below while the convoy slowly began to move. Sweeny knew his business, and in short time, the Gwendolyn spread her canvas. With grim satisfaction, Tony watched as the ships of the convoy took their relative positions with painstaking accuracy. "I believe they are warned, Sir," Dougherty opined, not quite able to hide his grin. Indeed, they passed the Isle of Wight in excellent order, Asia keeping a position to windward from the centre of the line. Tony had done enough convoy duty to know his business. "If the wind doesn't veer, we should be able to make Ushant," he told Dougherty. "Mr. Prince, make signal: Asia to convoy, course west-southwest." A short time later, the signal flags unfolded, accompanied by another signal shot, and the convoy came to the wind. "I shall have my breakfast now, Mr. Dougherty. Kindly alert me if anything requires my attention." Offering his arm to Harriet, Tony went aft. In the cabin, the table was laid. Summoned by Giles, Lucy appeared, smiling a good morning greeting. Little Emily showed up, too, as usual in Jenny's tow. The nurse Ellie held Richard on her arm. It was almost like a breakfast at home if one discounted the rolling of the ship and the sounds of the timbers. Little Richard was having his first birthday soon, and Ellie had to watch him as he had recently learned how to walk. Tony had closed and latched his desk already, fearful of the little boy pulling himself up and dousing the logbook in ink. He had to relate the incident with the Gwendolyn for Lucy, and he saw how Jenny grinned broadly at the thought of the hard awakening the crew had when the 32-pounder sanded their ship's side. After breakfast, Tony returned to the quarterdeck to monitor their progress. Mr. Prince had the watch and Tony watched the young man unobtrusively. He was nervous, Tony could see, but that could be explained by the presence of his captain on the quarterdeck. He watched the convoy diligently, nevertheless, and he kept the Asia exactly where Tony wanted her. "Signal to Caroline," Tony ordered. "Keep position!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" Lt. Prince snapped his fingers at the midshipman of the watch, young Mr. Uxbridge, who in turn ran for the signal halliards. The boy was learning fast, and it took him less than a minute to pick the flags from the locker. Once they flew out, Tony saw with satisfaction that the Caroline transport shook out a reef to gather more speed. For the rest of the morning, no corrections were needed. Tony had a short meal in the cabin at noon time, and when he returned to the deck, Mr. Dougherty joined him. "May I speak, Sir?" "Yes, of course, Mr. Dougherty." "It's about Mr. Malloy, Sir. I had a look at him, before lunch, and spoke with him. He's about sober again, and he's crushed, Sir. He knows this will put him on beach." "As well it should, Mr. Dougherty." "Yes, Sir. Certainly. Only..." "Yes? Speak up if you know more." "Sir, he's had a hard time the last days. His wife died during a stillbirth, and it's taken the life out of him, it seems. Yesterday, he had to bury her. It would seem the crew took advantage of his state, and the watch went below to drink. He's mortified, Sir." "What do you suggest, Mr. Dougherty?" "I was thinking, Sir, always assuming you can agree, we could let him go watches. I spoke some other wardroom members, and we would keep an eye on him. He may find his balance again, Sir." Tony weighed that. Mr. Sykes came to his mind. What if the Asia faced an enemy? Could Malloy be trusted? On the other hand, Tony did not even want to think of the state of mind he would be in should anything happen to Harriet and Richard. "Give him a few more hours, then send him to my cabin. Have the wardroom steward help him to spruce up. I'll speak to him and then give you my decision." "Thank you, Sir!"! "No, thank you, Mr. Dougherty, for bringing this to my attention. I should have said this before. I am very grateful for having you as my First Lieutenant. I cannot imagine a better second-in-command." Dougherty's face lit up in a proud smile. "If I may say so, Sir, I could not have found a better captain, either. I have learned quite a lot under your command." When Dougherty went below, Tony could see he had a spring in his step. There was something to be said in favour of encouraging subordinates! Dougherty had been a loyal First Lieutenant at all times, and he was even able to anticipate Tony's decision to a certain degree. He showed initiative, too. Something had to be done for the man. Tony's thoughts turned to Mr. Laughton, the Second Lieutenant. Tony did not know nearly enough about the man. He was meticulous in execution of his duties, a strict disciplinarian, always on time and without overt faults. Yet, Tony thought he needed to know more about him. The same was true about Mr. Chalk, the Third Lieutenant. Chalk was more open and he always answered eagerly when spoken to, but Tony's knowledge of the man was superficial. Mr. Eldridge, the fourth, Sweeny and Prince as Nºs five and six were even less known to him. Tony realised that this was his own fault. He had spent too much time of his command either with his superiors or with Harriet. He had to meet the men under his command more often. How could he forget that with Fanning as his commodore? This was something he had to correct. With this resolution, he went aft to his cabin. Harriet was sitting near the stern windows, and she looked up with a smile. "Richard is sleeping, and Emily is sitting with Jenny, trying to read a book," she told him. "We are very lucky to have Jenny. I shudder to think what would have happened to her had I handed her over to that Judge in Bridgetown." "Oh dear God, let's not even think about that!" Harriet exclaimed. "She is to me what John Little is to you, my personal coxswain in life." "An apt analogy, my dear," Tony agreed. "Would it trouble you much if we had company for dinner? I really must make an effort to get to know my officers. I just realised that, aside from Dougherty, I only know them dimly." "No, my darling, far from it. Should we have three of your lieutenants for dinner, and perhaps two or three of the 'young gentlemen'?" She was referring to the midshipmen, of course. "If you won't mind, that would suit me perfectly. Perhaps we can ask Mr. Dougherty, Mr. Chalk, and Mr. Prince and let each of them pick a young gentleman?" Harriet smiled. "Of course, Mr. Dougherty must be in the first group. What about Dr. Chamberlain?" "Eisenbeiss. We better have him, too," he sighed. "Jonathan and Lucy can come tomorrow. Perhaps, with four wardroom members up here, Lucy can dine in the wardroom tonight, with Jonathan." "I'll bring it up with her. Do you want me to organise the dinner for you?" "That would be a great relief for me," Tony laughed. He stood close to Harriet and offered his hand. Harriet took it and stood, looking into his eyes. "I am very happy to have you with me," he said earnestly. "I missed you very much." "Ssh! Let's not touch that again! We're together again, and this time, I'll do my damnest not to ruin it again. Let's not extend the dinner for too long, though. I have plans for after dinner." Tony caught the twinkle in her eyes and he had to laugh. "Yes, I'm definitely happy to have you with me!" An hour later, the sentry announced Mr. Malloy. What a difference the last hours had made! His outward appearance was without fault now, and he stood steady. "Sir Anthony, I want to thank you for hearing me, Sir," he said with a firm voice. "Mr. Malloy, Mr. Dougherty has told me about your terrible loss. Obviously, I had no idea. Yet, you must see that to command a ship, even a transport, you must not let your personal sorrows affect your conduct. That may be harsh, yet many lives depend on you." "I see that, Sir, and I'm shamed. I don't drink much as a rule, Sir, and somehow, the drink got to me much stronger than I expected. I had a right headache, too, when I reported to you, and I couldn't think or talk straight." Tony nodded. This was his decision. Malloy was not a 'posted' captain, not even a commander; he was a lieutenant in command of a Navy auxiliary. Nobody would even raise an eyebrow if he cashiered the man. Yet, what if it had been a momentary lapse? Perhaps, Dougherty's suggestion had merit. "Mr. Dougherty suggested to me to allow you to do duty in my ship until you regain your balance. I am indeed willing to give you a second chance. By the way, who was your second-in-command?" "Mr. Pickwith, Sir. He's a midshipman, but a very senior one. He's over thirty, Sir." "Aha. Was he drunk, too?" "No, Sir, not to my knowledge. He kept watch while I...", Malloy took a ragged breath, "While I was ashore to look after things." "I see," Tony mused. Indeed, he saw something. It was a disloyal thing to do on the part of Midshipman Pickwith not to see to it that his lieutenant woke up on time. Perhaps, more. Then again, if the man was a midshipman at age thirty, then perhaps he was inept. "Mr. Malloy, here's what we'll do. If you did duty in my ship, your seniority would make you third lieutenant. You will appreciate that this is out of the question. I therefore ask you to stay as guest in the wardroom until tomorrow when you will relieve Lieutenant Sweeny. Mind you, that I'll keep a close eye on the Gwendolyn." "Aye-aye, Sir! Thank you, Sir! I'll not disappoint you, I promise." "I don't have to tell you to stay away from spirits, do I?" "No, Sir, indeed not, Sir." "You may also want to watch out for that midshipman. He strikes me as either disloyal or unfit." Malloy nodded grimly. "Aye-aye, Sir." "Well, get rest, Mr. Malloy." "Thank you, Sir Anthony. You'll not rue this, I swear." After Malloy was gone, Harriet entered from the sleeping chamber. Without ado, she planted herself in Tony's lap. "I listened in. I believe you did something noble for the poor man. I hope he'll come around." "So do I. Is everything set for the dinner?" "I believe so. Are there any special considerations with regard to His Serene Highness?" Tony could see a little devil of mischief dancing in her green eyes. How he had missed this! "You should consult His Excellency, The Baron Eisenbeiss, Chamberlain of His Serene Highness," he answered drily. "Oh, Jonathan holds him for a very good surgeon. Perhaps, he can cut the roast?" Harriet giggled and snuggled against his chest. "I can't wait for them to be gone again," she whispered. "Oh, dear. You are certainly in a mood." "I've been that way all day. Would His Serene Highness be offended by my sitting in your lap during dinner?" "I doubt you could sit comfortably for long," he taunted her back. Again, Harriet giggled. "I feel what you mean by that," she purred. "You two are a sight!" Lucy's voice sounded from behind. Harriet looked up lazily. "I have missed him," she stated by way of explanation. "I believe you did, and I'm happy to see you reconciled. Are you ready, Harriet?" Harriet jumped up from Tony's lap. "I'm sorry, darling, but Lucy promised to do my hair for the dinner." Tony hurried to cross his legs which caused Harriet to giggle again. He looked his question. "It's my first dinner where I host ruling royalty," she grinned. Harriet was exuberant during the dinner, astounding the officers who had seen her as a demure and uneasy woman during Fanning's dinner in London. His Serene Highness proved to by a shy young man of seventeen, and he barely spoke at all. This was more than made up for by Dr. Eisenbeiss, as Tony stubbornly addressed him. He knew by now that the man had been surgeon at the court of the young prince when Napoleon wiped the little sovereignty from the maps. He had accompanied the young prince during his escape to England and convinced or perhaps coerced the boy to create him a baron. Now he talked incessantly of the great improvements he would make in the sickbay. If anything, the young Prince was mortified over the overbearing conduct of his chamberlain. Mr. Dougherty valiantly tried to steer the conversation in less embarrassing directions, asking Harriet about the efforts to obtain the pardon for O'Shaunessy. Harriet then duly listed the names and positions of all the people who had supported her. When she mentioned how Anita Heyworth had enlisted the Duke of Clarence, the young Prince spoke for the first time. "Lady Carter, do you indeed befriend Miss Heyworth? I saw her once, in '05, at the Drury Lane Theatre. She is by far the most impressive woman I ever saw." He blushed purple after saying that, but Harriet was empathic. "As a rule, Miss Heyworth does not socialise with her admirers. However, should we be back in London one day, I can introduce you to her." "That would be my most fervent wish, Lady Carter," the young man declared. "Yours, and the wish of almost every man in England," Chalk said reverently. "Gentlemen, should the Asia ever come to port in London, I shall endeavour to convince Miss Heyworth to join us for a dinner in this cabin," Tony promised, hoping to be able to convince Anita. "That, Sir, would be an unrivalled feat in the Royal Navy," Dougherty stated. At least, the new topic prevented Eisenbeiss from dominating the conversation, and Tony suspected that this was the reason the other officers kept it alive until it was time to bring out the toasts. Midshipman Uxbridge, as the most junior officer present toasted King George, and Mr. Dougherty led the toast of Tony and Harriet, to much acclaim. When the dinner party broke up, Tony briefly joined the officer of the watch to check on their progress and to give orders for the night. The sky was overcast, but moderately lit by a full moon. The convoy was in sight, once Tony's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and not one of the transports seemed to straggle. He nodded to himself. Harriet was waiting for him. After one last look around, he went aft. When he entered his sleeping chamber, Harriet was in the cot and under the blankets. It was November, after all, and cold. He could see her naked shoulders peek from under the blanket and the sight spurred him into action. In less than a minute, his clothes were piled on a stool and he was naked. Damn it was cold! He quickly slid under the blanket. Feeling a naked Harriet was novel to him, after months of enforced separation. Her skin felt cool to the touch and she pressed her body against him. "You are warm," she whispered. "I want you, Tony, please?" Making love in the rather narrow cot was different from their coupling on land. Keeping their privates clean was not as easy, making the oral play they enjoyed a less tempting option. Still, Tony took his time, caressing Harriet's body with gentle hands, and kissing her lips, her neck and her bosom. Her breasts had grown, but they were still well-formed and firm to his touch. The delighted sounds that came from her open mouth were indicators of her growing arousal. At one point, she took his face in both hands. "Anthony Carter, I want you in me, before we are interrupted by something. I need you!" Her legs were splayed already, and he moved on top of Harriet with eagerness. Those months alone had made him painfully aware of how much he craved the feel of her soft folds around his member. Harriet's hand guided his erect manhood between the lips of her opening, and with a sigh he sank into her. "Yessss!" she hissed under her breath. Her legs locked behind his buttocks, and her arms, so slender and yet strong, closed around his neck, pulling him close to her. He gave up the attempt to keep his weight suspended on his hands and knees; Harriet would not allow it. He crushed her with his weight, and yet, this was what she wanted. "Oh, my darling, yes! I love this so much! Yes, deeper!" she encouraged him in an urgent whisper that conveyed her need. With utmost self control, Tony withstood the urge to start hammering away at her, instead keeping up the rhythmic, long thrusts, slowly rising, waiting, and plunging down into Harriet's depths. Each downward plunge raised the pitch in Harriet's voice, and she went from low moans, to suppressed mewling, and then to soft wailing. He could feel her excitement, her arousal, and even hear the squishing sounds of his member in her sopping wet fanny, and he knew from experience how close she was to her peak. Yet, he resisted the urge to give way to his own desire, instead moving even slower. "Please, darling, I need it. Take me hard now! Possess me!" she whispered, between wails. He kissed her, to muffle her wailing, but the way her mouth responded was almost hurtful. Her body undulated under him, like she was a woman possessed, and she sucked violently on his lips. At last, he had to give in. His hips began to hammer her; three, four, five violent strokes. Harriet bit down on his lower lip in response, and this set him off. His whole being seemed to erupt from the tip of his member, deep into her womb, while Harriet arched her back and went rigid. They maintained the deep penetration for what seemed like a minute before Tony collapsed on top of a Harriet who deflated under him. For minutes, he lay on top of her, both trying to regain their breath, until he felt Harriet's hand on his forehead, gently wiping away the sweat. "Thank you, my darling," she whispered softly. Before he could answer, a knock sounded on the door of the chamber. "Sir, Mr. Prince's compliments, and there's a sail in sight beyond the convoy," they heard the messenger. "I — I'll be on — hrhm! — I'll be on deck in a moment," Tony answered. He continued in a whisper. "Damn it to hell! That was close." Harriet giggled under him. "You think the messenger heard us?" "Doubt it. The ship's lively enough to drown out any noises we made. Anyway, I need to dress." He slipped out of Harriet, causing a gasp from her side. Using the wash rag, he quickly wiped clean his midsection before he slipped on shirt, breeches, and his coat. Bending over the bed, he kissed a still giggling Harriet, and left the cabin. Coming on deck, Mr. Prince approached him hastily. "Sir, masthead reports a sail to south-east. A brigantine, by the looks of it." "A brigantine you say?" Tony mused. He checked the chalkboard for the log casts of the last hours. They had to be past Guernsey already. A ship coming from south-east would hail from Saint-Malo, ever a lair of corsairs. Robert Surcouf, the most notorious of them, in his newest ship, Revenant, had sailed for Ile de France earlier in the year, but the man owned a passel of privateers which operated out of Saint-Malo. Well, dealing with Surcouf's underlings was far preferable to dealing with the man himself. If the brigantine was coming from Saint-Malo in the prevailing winds, this said something about her quality. She had to sail a full two points closer to the wind than the convoy, yet she was closing on them. Tony briefly thought of changing course, but in the middle of the night, this would only cause confusion. The convoy was sailing in night formation, two columns of six sail, with Asia to windward of the centre of the windward column. "A half point to port," Tony ordered. "A reef in the maintops'l, Mr. Prince." Losing speed and inching the ship to leeward, Tony planned to position her in the wake of the windward column. This would bring him closer to where the strange sail would meet with the convoy. He went below briefly, to dress. Harriet was fast asleep, a blissful smile on her lips, and he kissed her softly before he went on deck again. Climbing into the mizzen top, Tony could see the strange sail, two or three miles beyond the lee column, and still on a converging course. Its progress was difficult to gauge, but Tony felt confident that he was positioning his ship ideally to intercept any attempt on the convoy. After descending to the deck, he gave orders to wake him should anything unforeseen happen and then turned in. It would not do to spend the night on deck, staring into the darkness. The brigantine would not catch up with the convoy before the morning. Harriet did not wake when he slipped under the blankets, but she cuddled close to him. Years of experience helped him to fall asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. He woke briefly when the Middle Watch was called, and then again when the Morning Watch began. When the messenger called two hours later, he was wide awake in an instant. He joined Lieutenant Chalk on the quarterdeck a minute later. "The brigantine gained on us, but she's still out of range, Sir, a mile and a half due south. One of the new foretop men thinks he knows her; she's a privateer from Saint-Malo." "See that the man gets a reward, Mr. Chalk. Have the cook roused; the men will need an early breakfast." "Aye-aye, Sir," Chalk answered, turning away to give the orders. "Should I rouse the cabin dwellers, Sir?" John Little's voice sounded out of the darkness to the right. He had recovered from his stab wound in the past weeks. "Yes, why don't you see to it. Once we'll douse the fires, there'll be no chance to get a coffee." Come the dawn, the privateer would make its move, Tony was sure. Each mile they sailed on a westward course was leading the brigantine away from its safe haven. Beyond Quessant, or Ushant as the British called it, there was a chance they ran into ships of the Channel Fleet. No, the corsair had to try soon or return to port. For now, all he could do was to get some breakfast himself. Giles had obviously heard that his captain had been called, and he had already brewed coffee. Harriet sat at the table, with Richard on her lap and Emily on the chair at her side, while Lucy was nowhere to be seen. Jenny was off somewhere, too, no doubt taking her breakfast in the steerage, with the midshipmen and master's mates. The Sailing Master had accepted Eric Johnsen as mate, and the young man shared the steerage with the other petty warrant officers. Mrs. Johnsen was a well-like guest there, for those young men hungered for the mere sight of a young woman. Tony had no doubt that all the women around Harriet and even Harriet herself figured prominently in the dreams of the young men. For a brief, precious minutes, Tony held his son on his knees, feeding him soft pieces of bread from the dwindling stores. Bread did not keep well in a damp ship, and they better ate it before it caught mildew. In between bites and feeding Richard, Tony told Harriet about the privateer. Unconsciously, Harriet's eyes darted at the children. "Will there be any fighting?" she asked. Tony shook his head. "It's a small craft, a brigantine, of less than 300 tons. I doubt they carry more than nine-pounders. It's more like a cat-and-mouse game, with the mouse bent on stealing the cheese, and the cat decidedly too fat to catch it." In spite of her worries, Harriet smiled over the simile. "I take it, the cat will use her claws, though?" "Only if the mouse is stupid enough to sail into range. Those privateers are looking for easy catches. They will not dare to get into our range." Light began to filter in through the windows as the late autumn morning dawned, and if Tony craned his neck, he could see the brigantine through the gallery windows. She was still gaining on them, but that had to be expected. "Sail ho! On deck, there's a strange sail ahead! Bearing two points to port, three miles ahead." In a flash, Tony was up; so fast, Little Richard was shocked and started to cry. "I'm sorry, little man, your father needs to go on deck," Tony smiled at his son, making as if he was throwing him to Harriet. The trick worked, and Richard giggled again before Tony handed him to Harriet. "Please, darling, get everything ready to go down below. I'll let you know if it's necessary; just be prepared." Harriet stepped close and kissed him. "Bonne chance, darling! Don't worry about us." On deck, he saw that Chalk had climbed into the mizzen top. He came back down presently. "There's another ship, a sloop, ahead of us. She's a Frenchman, that I'd wager ten pounds on." Tony took in the situation. Quessant was another twenty or so miles ahead. The brigantine was sailing parallel to the convoy, just out of gun range. The transports were sailing ahead of the Asia in decent order, but they were sailing right at the newcomer. It would be less than a quarter hour before the leading transport would encounter the approaching sloop. "Mr. Chalk, kindly call all hands." Chalk passed on that order, and within minutes, both watches ran towards their stations. Dougherty appeared on the quarterdeck. "Mr. Dougherty, have the ship cleared for action, if you please." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Dougherty responded. Within seconds, the pipes shrilled. Tony briefly saw Jenny as she was rushing up a hatchway, to run for the cabin. He turned to Mr. Prince. "Mr. Prince, make signal for the convoy, "'Tack in succession. Course, due north.' Have a signal gun fired, to get their attention!" A minute later, the signal flags ran up their lee halliards and the gun boomed. Through his glass, Tony could see busy activity on the decks of the transports. The leading transports were now less than a mile away from the approaching sloop. "Hoist our flag, Mr. Prince!" he ordered from the corner of his mouth, watching the sloop through his glass. Now was the moment! "Lower the signals!" Lowering the signal flags was the the sign to execute the orders, and indeed, to Tony's relief, the foremost transports tacked, the leeward ship slightly delayed to reach a position to windward on the new course. Thank God for Navy officers in command of those transports! One after the other, the transports, upon reaching the same imaginary point in the grey sea, tacked and followed the lead ships. The sloop was still coming closer, obviously undeterred. This only changed when the transport ahead of the Asia tacked, and the sloop sighted the double rows of gunports on Asia's sides. The strange captain jibed, coming to the wind on the starboard bow. It was almost time for the Asia to tack. "Mr. Dougherty, have the port side guns loaded and run out." Dougherty passed the order to a runner. "Quartermaster, helm a-lee!" Tony commanded. The Asia came through the wind, with sails flapping, until they were sheeted home again for the new course. The sloop was slightly ahead and a half mile to port. Tony quickly checked for the brigantine. The change of course had left her behind by almost a mile. "One point to starboard," he ordered. With the slight change of course, he could bring his main deck guns to bear. "My compliments to Mr. Chalk, and will he train the port-side battery on that sloop," Tony ordered. The runner disappeared down the hatchway, and soon, Tony heard the rumble of the heavy guns being trained forward. The runner returned. "Mr. Chalks compliments, and they are ready, Sir!" "Very well. He may fire once he has aim." A minute passed while Chalk was gauging the roll of the ship. Then the port side of the Asia erupted in flames and smoke as the broadside was discharged. The lively wind dispersed the smoke in a second and Tony could watch the fall of the shots. Too short, but not by much! Once the guns heated up, the sloop would be in range. Nevertheless, the sloop kept its course, obviously confident they were out of range. "Keep firing!" Tony ordered. Not two minutes later, the second salvo roared out, but this time, Chalk had misjudged the roll, and the salvo fell short again by a cable length. There was a longer pause before the third salvo. Obviously, Chalk took pains to fire when the Asia rolled to leeward. Again, Tony watched the results. Geysers sprang up around the sloop, and in the middle of the water spray, he saw wreckage fly at the bows of the sloop. A hit! Tony trained his glass on the corsair. There was no obvious damage to the rigging or to the upper works, but while he was watching, he thought he saw her lower in the water than before. The crew was running about, obviously clearing the boats. Tony made a decision. "Mr. Prince, signal to the convoy, 'Tack in succession; course east-south-east!" There was no chance for the sloop to cause danger to the transports. Through his glass, Tony saw that the small vessel was sinking. One or more 32-pounder balls had ripped through the frail hull, between wind and sea, and torn open the planks. He turned to watch the brigantine. She was heaving to, obviously discouraged. Quessant was looming far ahead, and the master of the brigantine must have seen the fruitlessness and even danger of further pursuit. Tony sighed with relief. Now he could at least rescue the crew of the sloop. "We're going about. Helm a-lee! Have launch and cutter readied, Mr. Dougherty. Let's pick up the French." Under the press of her topsails and topgallants, Asia was bearing down on the sinking sloop. The waves were already washing over her decks; two boats had cast off, but more men were standing on the deck, including a man in a blue coat, obviously her master. At a cable length distance, Tony had the topsails backed, and while the Asia's momentum carried her further, the boats were swung out. Tony had each boat take ten marines, to make sure the prisoners made no trouble, and they reached the doomed ship just in time for the rest of her crew to make it to safety. They had barely cast off, when the sloop sank in a burst of bubbles. The master of the sloop, the Le Coq Noir, was a young man. Tony judged him to be in his early twenties. He was shaken badly by the loss of his ship and he barely spoke. From the more loquacious crew members, the Asians learned that it had been the first cruise of the sloop under her new master who was a cousin of the famed Robert Surcouf. Fortunately, the hit had caused no casualties, and only two men had suffered light wounds. As Tony had suspected, the shot hit the small vessel in the waterline, going through and exiting on the port side, thereby tearing a large gash into the planking. As it was, they had over sixty prisoners, seamen and soldiers, who would yield the Asia £5 per capita head money from the Admiralty. That was a small consolation for the loss of a possible prize. Tony's share, £75, was nothing to sneeze at. The prisoners were secured down below while the crew cleared up the decks. It was almost time for the noon meal when Tony finally had the time to return to the cabin. Of course, Harriet had watched the events, and he had to endure a little hero worship from the females before he could sit down at his desk to write a report of the engagement. It might be an insignificant victory in the grand scheme of things, but it also meant one privateer less to worry British shipping. Dinner that evening was a celebratory affair. The second half of the wardroom was invited, including the Sailing Master and Jonathan Wilkes. Mr. Sweeny had returned from the Gwendolyn, too, and he was happy enough to be back. Among the junior officers was young Eric Johnsen, which meant that Jenny was sitting at the table with her husband, flustered and scared. She had to endure some good-natured teasing, too, given the way she had come aboard the Asia almost two years ago. The mood was lighter, not only because of their small victory, but also because the pompous Dr. Eisenbeiss was missing. Harriet and Lucy were leading the conversation, much to the delight of the other officers. The lively talk did not abate until the brandy was served. Under the eyes of his superiors and his wife, Eric Johnsen had to toast the King. It seemed simple enough, to stand up and say, Gentlemen, the King! Yet, Tony could see that the duty had been weighing heavily on the young man's mind for all evening. Once the cabin cleared, Tony briefly joined the officer of the watch on deck. Nothing was amiss, though, and he turned in soon thereafter. Harriet was waiting for him, but she was wearing a nightshirt under the blankets, and her eyelids were drooping. "Please, darling, can we just sleep? I'm terribly tired," she pleaded. Tony had to smile. "I guess we better. God knows what will happen tonight." Nevertheless, when he joined Harriet under the blankets, she turned to him and pressed her body against his side. "My hero!" she mumbled sleepily. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 11: The Fall of Lisbon Gibraltar looked peaceful when the convoy entered the Bay of Algeciras. Asia was shielding the transports as they entered the harbour, maintaining a position to westward, until the transports had berthed. Asia then cast anchor in the roads, and Tony had his gig bring him ashore with the despatches. He found the Governor's Residence in a veritable uproar. At first, his Excellency, General Sir Hew Dalrymple, Acting Governor, had no time for Tony, but he could be heard issuing orders in an agitated voice. His Aide de Camp, at last, relieved Tony of the official mail. He also enlightened him as to the reasons for the Governor's hectic activity. The French and Spanish had started an invasion of Portugal, just days ago. Apparently, Marshal Junot had crossed the border and was advancing on Lisbon. That was indeed bad news, and Tony knew that the government had to be informed urgently. Sailing Asia back to Portsmouth was contrary to his orders, but Sir Charles Cotton would be able to send a smaller vessel with the news. "I must sail to rendezvous Sir Charles Cotton's squadron immediately. Does His Excellency wish to send despatches to Sir Charles and back to London?" The ADC stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "His Majesty's Government must learn of the development," Tony explained. "Also, Sir Charles may want to sail for Lisbon, to render assistance to the Portuguese." The ADC finally understood. "I shall ask His Excellency," he stated officiously. A few minutes later, Tony had his first look at His Excellency. He was well over fifty; a fussy, worried-looking man whose hands actually shook with excitement when he greeted Tony. "You must alert Sir Charles, Captain. I am having urgent reports for His Majesty's Government written. Please, ask Sir Charles to have them sent to London with utmost despatch. I shall have orders for Sir Charles, too. He must sail for Lisbon, to render support or to evacuate the Portuguese Court." Tony almost blurted out that the Governor of Gibraltar had no authority over a Navy admiral, but he could see that Dalrymple was beside himself. He knew that Cotton was off Cadiz, blockading the remnants of the Spanish Navy. He could be there within a day if the prevailing Levante wind held. "I shall ready my ship immediately, Your Excellency. When may I expect the despatches ready?" The ADC spoke up. "We are still gathering information, Captain. We are expecting more intelligence this afternoon. I believe it best if you were to sail by tomorrow morning." "With all due respect, the wind is favourable right now," Tony contradicted. "A shift to west may lock me in the strait for days." "If you think so, Captain, we can have the despatches ready by early afternoon," the ADC conceded. "I should appreciate that," Tony answered. "With your permission, I shall ready my ship. I shall send a messenger by two o'clock. Would you perhaps know where I may find Captain Tushingham?" The ADC nodded with emphasis. "I can do better, Captain. I have him called. He is here, to assist in this dire situation." Indeed, not five minutes later, an elderly man in Captain's uniform entered, a weak smile on his weatherbeaten face. "A Good Day, Sir Anthony!" he greeted Tony. "Sir," Tony answered. Tushingham was a senior captain, after all. "Your father in law sent me letters, of course, to ask me to find accommodation for his ... I mean, for Lady Carter. You will be pleased to hear that I was able to rent a lovely house, just a stone's throw away from here and close to the Holy Trinity Cathedral. It belongs to one of the premier merchants who happens to own a bigger one, closer to the harbour." "I appreciate your efforts, Sir. Is it possible for my wife to move in immediately? I have to sail within the day." "But of course! I'm finished here anyway. I offered my help, but nobody here seems to consider the need to listen to naval expertise." "They seem quite excited, Sir," Tony remarked drily, raising a chuckle from Tushingham. "You'd think, they're a bunch of Frogs, the way they're yelling and waving their arms." Tushingham made sure they were alone. "Dalrymple is an old woman, a ninny if ever there was one. A veteran of the Flanders campaign. Hah! All he must have learned there is how to sign capitulations. Well, let's leave. Would you mind if I accompanied you? I haven't set foot on a deck in a year." "Certainly, Sir. Perhaps I can invite you to a lunch? Afterwards, we can see my wife to her accommodations." They quickly strode down to the harbour. Tony saw both the launch and the cutter at the quay, with the Purser supervising the loading of fresh produce. John Little was there with the gig, and they were rowed to the ship quickly. They found Harriet and Lucy sitting by a pile of dunnage in the after cabin. "We heard of the events," Harriet hastened to explain. "Am I right that you will sail again today?" "Yes, I'm afraid I must alert Sir Charles Cotton immediately. Harriet, dear, this is Captain Tushingham. He has found accommodations for you, close to the Governor's Residence. "Sir, my wife, Lady Carter." "Enchanted, Milady," Tushingham smiled. "My wife will be very pleased to meet you." "The pleasure will be mine, Captain Tushingham," Harriet answered. "May I introduce Mrs. Wilkes? She is Dr. Wilkes's wife, the Asia's surgeon and a dear friend." Tushingham regarded Lucy with a bow and a smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Wilkes. I hope you will enjoy your stay in Gibraltar." While preparations for an improvised dejeuner were made, Tushingham was given a brief tour of the decks by Lt. Dougherty while Tony and Harriet hurriedly went over their arrangements once more. His full pay would be issued through the Gibraltar Navy Station, and Harriet had the full use for her needs. In addition, Tony had assembled a bag of gold coins of various denominations and issues, providing Harriet with 'wild money' for true emergencies, such as the unlikely case that Gibraltar had to be evacuated. Once again, they revelled in a drawn-out hug. "My darling, be careful," Harriet beseeched him. "I will think of you constantly." "Take good care of yourself and of the children, my dearest," Tony answered. "You'll see, I'll be back in no time." "That's what I fervently wish for," she answered wistfully. A little after noon, the launch transported Tony and Harriet, with their entourage, to the shore and Captain Tushingham quickly led them to the house he had rented for Harriet. It was roomy and well aired, albeit with sparse furnishings, but Harriet assured them it would be more than adequate. Summoned by a messenger, the landlord, Mr. Abregado, showed and welcomed his illustrious tenants. Through that worthy man, Tony was able to place an order for some urgently needed household fittings before he had to tear himself away from Harriet and the children. By six bells in the Afternoon Watch, HMS Asia was sailing from the Bay of Algeciras with the easterly Levanter from abeam, followed by two transports, the York and the Gwendolyn. Both carried provisions for the squadron as well as extra marines above complement. Merely an hour later, they changed course to due West, passing Tarifa in plain sight. Nightfall saw them well on their way on a northwesterly course, headed for Cadiz. Asia showed her qualities on that day and during the night, never logging less than eight knots in the moderate wind. Both transports kept pace; the York was an exceptional sailing ship without her main ordnance. Come the daybreak, they sighted the Bay of Cadiz to starboard, and a squadron of ten sail ahead. Drawing closer quickly, it became clear that the ships ahead were Sir Charles Cotton's Iberian Squadron, with HMS Prince flying his flag. Prince was a massive second-rate of 98 guns, and Tony knew her from Trafalgar. The word in the fleet was that she sailed like a water-logged haystack, and Captain Grindall had had a hard time to engage the French in time before their surrender. Nevertheless, she sunk the French Achille and in the aftermath of the battle, she provided tireless service to the fleet, salvaging hundreds of sailors and towing more than one ship to safety. Now she was Cotton's flagship. Private recognition signals were exchanged and the next signals ordered Asia to take position one cable length to leeward of Prince. That was a neat piece of work for Tony. He had to cross Prince's bows and perform a turn close to the three-decker which would likely steal the wind from Asia. Nevertheless, Tony decided to tack since there was not enough room to jibe. They crossed the flagship's bows less than two cable lengths ahead and when their bowsprits were abeam, Tony had the helm laid a-lee and Asia tacked. She settled on her new course, and when her sails were drawing, she was a cable-length to leeward of the flagship. The gig was lowered, and Tony rushed down the Jacob's ladder with the tarred satchel bag containing the despatches. Two minutes later, the bowman hooked onto Prince's chains, and Tony scaled the side of the three-decker. Captain Sir Richard Grindall, C.B., greeted Tony at the entry port to the twitter of four boatswain's pipes. "Welcome aboard, Sir Anthony," he said, offering his hand. Tony shook the proffered hand. "Thank you, Sir Richard. I have urgent despatches for Sir Charles, from Gibraltar." Grindall nodded. "Then we better not let Sir Charles wait. Allow me to show you the way!" Tony followed the flag captain aft along the maindeck and to the Admiral's cabin. Sir Charles was in his day cabin, sitting at the table with another captain and having breakfast. "Ah, Captain Carter. Smart sailing that was." "Thank you, Sir Charles. If I may, I bring urgent despatches from Sir Hew Dalrymple. The French are invading Portugal." "Is that so?" Cotton asked, maintaining stoicism. "Captain Paynter, Captain Carter! Captain Paynter is my chief of staff. If you are so kind as to hand him those despatches, then perhaps I can tempt you to a breakfast?" Handing over the tarred canvas bag, Tony bowed politely. "That is very kind of you, Sir Charles." Cotton nodded and turned to his flag captain. "Captain Grindall, kindly have the squadron go about. Set a course for Lisbon. We may have to evacuate what's left of the Portuguese court." He turned his attention back to his plate. "Still no sense wasting a perfectly good breakfast." A servant served coffee to Tony while another servant offered him a plate of cold pastry. "You delivered those transports to Gibraltar, Captain?" "Yes, Sir Charles. We encountered corsairs, off Sainte-Malo, but we were able to sink one of them, and the other gave up then." "Splendid! You have that report included?" "Yes, Sir Charles. We also landed sixty surviving French as prisoners in Gibraltar." One-eighth of three-hundred pounds head money was only £37, but Sir Charles nodded with satisfaction nonetheless. "What sort of ship is Asia?" he asked next. "You captured her yourself from the Frogs in '05, didn't you?" "Indeed, Sir Charles. She's fast for a third-rate and yet roomy. Seaworthy, too, with a low gravity centre. We're shipping 32-pounders on the maindeck and 24-pounders on upper deck and quarterdeck. I've had her for almost two years, and she's shown no weakness yet." "That's good to hear. I can use a fast third-rate." He looked up at Captain Paynter. "Er, yes?" "Here's a Letter of Introduction, Sir Charles. It's addressed to you, personally." Suddenly, Cotton's demeanour changed. The look he cast at Tony was decidedly surly as he ripped open the seal and began to read. After a few moments, his facial expression changed and Tony thought he even blushed. Sir Charles looked up. "I have jumped to conclusions, Sir Anthony. I'm sorry. I thought your father-in-law had sent this." Tony understood and nodded. Cotton had thought that the letter was for his benefit. He nodded and allowed himself a smile. "I do not feel that I need patronage, Sir Charles." "Certainly not, Sir Anthony. This is from the Private Secretary of His Majesty, calling my attention to one of your lieutenants. I am advised that all efforts should be made to ready the young man for a speedy promotion. His patent is from October, isn't it?" Tony nodded, slightly amused. "He's my Nº 6. He is not a bad young man though." "Nephew of the King, eh? Well, in my squadron, he'll have to wait his turn and pay his dues. Enough of that. We have bigger fish to fry. Let me work through Sir Hew's despatches, not that I expect any enlightenment from that corner. Return to your ship for now. See here, Paynter, what tactical position for Asia?" "Nº 2, I should think, Sir Charles. She's likely the best fighting ship in the squadron, with her speed and size." "Very well, Captain Carter. Nº 2 it is. Welcome to the squadron." "Thank you, Sir Charles. With your leave." Asia had to back her topsails briefly to allow for the gig to make the crossing, and this allowed her to merge into the column of ships-of-the-line in the prescribed Nº 2 position, immediately following the flagship. Tony understood the further implications of this. Should the Prince have to make port for repairs, Asia would be Sir Charles' flagship. He sighed. He would have loved to have the big cabin to himself, but it was not to be for long. With the wind under her shirt tails, Prince was not quite as bad as her reputation, but close. A measly seven knots was all she could do in the prevailing easterly breeze. With a shudder, Tony imagined to be in command of such an unwieldy craft. By late afternoon, flags rose to Prince's halliards, calling for the captains of the squadron to convene. As the wind had moderated, the gigs had no problems catching up with the flagship. Of course, Tony was first to arrive, and that gave him a chance to meet the captains one after the other. One of the first to arrive after him was a grinning Captain Jeremy Masters, once Tony's immediate superior in the Medusa and now his senior by two months. He had the Warspite, a brand-new 74-gun ship, commissioned only in late August that year. They greeted each other like the long-lost friends they were. There was no time for recollections, though, as Cotton convened a council of war in his cabin. "Gentlemen, Captain Sir Anthony Carter joined the squadron this morning in the Asia. Some of you know him, others have heard of his exploits. His joining us provides us with a large and seaworthy addition to our battle line. "He also brings alarming news. The French, with Spanish help, are invading Portugal as we speak. We shall sail for Lisbon, to offer support to the Portuguese court." "Sir Charles, are we allied to the Portuguese?" an older captain asked. Tony remembered him as Captain Treleven of Hero, 74. "Not formally. We'll offer help nonetheless. Captain Oldman will sail for Portsmouth to deliver despatches and receive orders." Oldman commanded the Cormoran, a ship-rigged sloop of 18 guns. "York carries an additional eight hundred marines. Three hundred will be divided up between the ships of the squadron, the rest will stay in the York. Asia already has extra marines above complement?" "Yes, Sir Charles," Tony answered immediately. "fifty-two over complement." "As you see, gentlemen, the Admiralty has foreseen the need for land operations. We can field two thousand marines, enough to take and hold coastal towns. That will require the enemy to march twice as many soldiers to retake our beachheads. We can work them tired that way. Even more so, many roads on the Peninsula lead along the coast, and marching soldiers are quite vulnerable to gunfire." Tony grasped the idea. Taking coastal towns would force the French and Spanish to march sizeable army units to reconquer those towns. Two or three ships-of-the-line would wreak annihilation on any body of soldiers marching along a coastal road. Six- and nine-pounder field guns were no challenge for the three-layered sides of battleships, and no marching army could match the fire power of even the forty guns Asia mounted in her broadside. Applied judiciously, the squadron could work the French raw. They would have to increase their coastal defences, allocating supplies and men that were needed elsewhere. It would be a war of attrition, with the British in the comfortable position to determine the time and place for the next attack. "We shall continue so for the next months until the French responses grow weaker and slower. That, Gentlemen, will be the time to create a real beach head. Our army units involved in the Battle of Copenhagen performed very credibly I hear, and it will be our task to give them an opening on the peninsula. So, as you see, our needle pricks will be more than just annoying the French." "Any landing operation will also give us a chance to water the ships, reducing port times," Paynter added, causing a collective groan around the table. "Within reason, Captain Paynter," Cotton added significantly. "Patrolling the Atlantic coast line, we shall sustain wear and damage. A week in port every two or three months will barely suffice for repairs, let alone to give the crews some rest. You know my views on this, and even St. Vincent sees to it that his crews get rest every now and then." Paynter looked a little taken aback, but the other captains smiled in relief. Tony had kept his face in check. He was the only one who kept his wife in Gibraltar, and he did not want to give the wrong impression. "Lastly, Gentlemen, the despatches inform me that my request to replace the Prince have been approved. Captain Grindall will return to Portsmouth as soon as my new flagship will arrive. Their Lordships share my view that for the strategies we envision, a faster ship will be needed. Prince will receive an overhaul." Grindall clearly was informed for he showed no sign of surprise, let alone dismay. "Twenty-three months since I last set foot on English soil. I hope my children will still know me." A chuckle rose around the table. "Neptune will take Prince's place," Sir Charles continued. "Her overhaul has been completed, and she's newly coppered. This way, I won't have to worry about Asia running into our stern." "I suppose we can all cast off the sea anchors," Captain Masters remarked to general laughter. Grindall affected to take offence. "She may be slow, but when she engages her enemy she is formidable in battle." "You are right to defend your ship, Grindall," Cotton interjected. "She's sturdy and dependable. She'll even regain some speed once they rid her of the cornfield we drag through the water. "Well, gentlemen, you are informed. Kindly return to your ships now. By this time tomorrow, we shall enter the Tagus estuary and contact the Portuguese. Prepare to receive the extra complement of marines when we are anchored." Once back in the Asia, Tony assembled his officers to give them what information he had. That done, he asked the sailing master to stay, and together, they studied the charts of the Tagus estuary. The first two miles of the estuary were narrow, barely a mile wide, before the river opened to almost thrice that width. The Portuguese maintained fortified positions at Cascais, at Caparica opposite of Belèm, and at Belèm itself. The latter was a 16th century fortification and not much to worry about. Caparica was another matter, for it was heavily armed, while Cascais could be circumvented easily. The French would come from the North, probably following the Tagus valley. That would leave the estuary free, at least in the beginning. From the deck, Tony heard the watch being sent aloft to take in the topgallants. Damn bathtub of a threedecker! Obviously, Lt. Chalk had seen the need to shorten sail to prevent them from running into the slow Prince. He briefly joined his watch officer on the quarterdeck. The squadron was maintaining course, the flagship under full sail. Asia showed only topsails, forecourse and mizzen sail, yet she easily kept her position in the line. "Let me know if anything changes," Tony said before returning to his cabin. A little later, Jonathan Wilkes was announced, and together they had dinner. After a short exchange on the health of the crew, Jonathan tilted his head. "You know, Anthony, I had been playing with the thought of quitting after the return from Barbados. Patrolling the Irish Sea did not overly appeal to me. To think now that we shall cast anchor in Lisbon tomorrow puts a different angle on things. I would have never thought I'd see foreign capitals." "You may be among the last to see the city before the French loot it," Tony put in. "Junot is infamous for that." "That were a shame, although not much was left of the city after the earthquake in '55. Did you know that fifty thousand people perished under the collapsed houses and palaces? A catastrophe of biblical proportions." Tony shook his head. "I had no idea. I suppose that I need to know more of Portugal's history." "I have a copy of Golding's A Complete History of the Previous Century. Of course, you may have the use of it." "That might be helpful at some point," Tony conceded. "How is our Baron performing in the sickbay?" Jonathan allowed himself a smile. "Based on what I have seen of him, he is a far better surgeon than a courtier. I have dropped hints to him, in fact, that it would be wise for him to establish himself in his profession, rather than hoping for a quick restoration of his prince. Who is a pleasant young man, if I may say so. He is chafing under Eisenbeiss' chaperoning, though. He wants to prove himself, but the good Doctor fusses too much over him." "I'll keep that in mind. Sir Charles is not happy with the situation. Favouritism is an anathema to him, it seems." They let the subject go after that, and their conversation drifted to other topics. Once again, Tony realised how much he enjoyed the company of the educated, yet unassuming Jonathan Wilkes. It was late when they parted, and Tony slept well that night, pleasantly tired as he was. A runner woke him at sunrise. "Sir, Mr. Prince's compliments, and the flagship signals, Sir." Tony went up in his shirt. It was cold on deck, with a fresh wind blowing. Prince was waiting. "Good morning, Sir. Signal from flag, "Land in sight, clear for action." "Very well, Mr. Prince. Midshipman of the watch?" "Here, Sir!" It was Uxbridge. "Rouse the wardroom. We have to clear for action!" Uxbridge ran off. "Mr. Prince, rouse the free watch, if you please. "I shall be back shortly." Tony rushed aft to his cabin and dressed hurriedly. He stopped for a heartbeat when he saw that the uniform coat was the patched one he had worn at Trafalgar, but then he shrugged and left while Giles and John Little were busy clearing the cabin for action. Dougherty was on the quarterdeck when Tony arrived, his necktie in disarray and his hair wild as was to be expected if somebody dressed hurriedly in the dark. "Have the ship cleared for action, Mr. Dougherty," Tony ordered calmly. Only a second later, the drums rolled and the hands rushed to their stations. After almost two years, the crew was well trained, and within ten minutes, Dougherty reported the ship clear. "Not bad," Tony commented. Checking the other ships in the line, he saw that they were second after the Prince, a small wonder since Grindall had had advance warning. Warspite hauled down the ready flag less than a minute later, and the other ships followed within another two minutes. "Sir, flag to Minotaur, 'Too slow'," Prince announced. Ouch! Bellamy of the Minotaur would chafe under the rebuke, but then again, Minotaur had taken a full three minutes longer than Asia, two broadsides if one counted it that way. With the November sun reluctantly rising over the coastline, Tony saw the narrow estuary of the River Tagus on their starboard side. They were approaching it quickly now. When the squadron was a mile off, flags rose on the flagship. "Sir, flag to squadron: Heave to!" Prince announced. Tony nodded, and Mr. Laughton sent the men aloft. When the signal came down on the flagship, Asia turned into the wind while her crew took in the topsails. The mizzen top stay sail was set to keep the bow to the wind. From the flagship, the admiral's barge was launched, but it was Captain Paynter, Tony saw, who climbed down into the boat. A mast was erected, the cutter sails were set, and the barge sailed towards the coast, a white flag flying above the White Ensign. For the next five hours, the squadron sailed up and down in front of the estuary. In was early afternoon when they saw the barge emerging from the mouth of the river and heading for the Prince. The squadron went about and sailed to meet the barge. As Nº 2 in the line, Tony could seen when the barge hooked into the chains and he saw Captain Paynter climb aboard the flagship. A little while later, signals flew from the Prince. "Sir, flag to squadron: follow in line." "Acknowledge, Mr. Prince, if you please. Officer of the watch, prepare to jibe." Indeed, Prince turned before the wind and headed for the mouth of the river. Asia followed in her wake, and the rest of the squadron fell in, too. The mouth of the river was a little over a mile wide, but once past the estuary, the bed of the River Tagus widened into a wide lagoon, with Lisbon on the northern shore. The ebb tide made itself felt, and close-hauled, the ships made poor speed. They sailed slowly past the impressive Torre de Belèm, a massive, fortified tower from the 16th century which had withstood the earthquake. The Portuguese flag was flying from the tower, and the Prince exchanged salute guns. On the other side of the estuary, the Forte Velho commanded a small bay. The cross fire of those stone fortresses protected the access to Lisbon from the sea. Past the Torre de Belèm, Tony could see a sizeable fleet at anchor. Twenty-two sails he counted, with twelve of the line and six frigates. This was the Portuguese fleet, and Sir Charles' most pressing task was to prevent them from falling into French or Spanish hands. Beyond the narrow estuary, the strong ebb tide abated. The squadron tacked and sailed south. Off the town of Barreiro, Sir Charles signalled for his squadron to prepare for anchoring. A mile off the southern shore, the anchor flag went down. Asia's bower splashed into the water and the cable rumbled through the hawsehole. Slowly, Asia swung around her anchor while the other ships of the squadron also took their positions. Again, the admiral's barge left the Prince, and this time, Sir Charles was in it, heading for the largest Portuguese ship, a towering three-decker. He was gone the whole afternoon and it was dark when a messenger boat made the rounds, calling the captains to the flagship for a council. Arriving on the flagship, Tony found his admiral and Captain Paynter bent over a chart of the lagoon. Tony could see Portuguese writing; obviously, the chart was a gift from the Portuguese admiral. Sir Charles looked up. "Ah, Sir Anthony. Come her and have a look before the others arrive. I have a task for you." Tony stepped forward and looked at the map. "The Frogs are marching down the Tagus valley," Paynter explained. "It's the only road. Unfortunately, the Portuguese have no fortifications to block the French advance, and their ships are busy evacuating the Royal Court." "Mr. Burlington, our envoy, has convinced the Portuguese to transfer the Royal Court and the Portuguese fleet to Brazil," Sir Charles continued. "I'm glad for it. The Frogs will find the nest empty, and the Spanish won't get their hands on the Portuguese fleet. "Now, the Portuguese need more time, and frankly, they need more shipping, too, to get as many people out as possible. I have offered our help which was accepted. Most of my squadron will help the evacuation. You will have a different task. I want Asia to sail upstream tomorrow to where the road runs close to the river bank." He pointed to a point on the map where a small village was marked as 'Bobadela'. "The French must get past Bobadela where the Portuguese have massed what defences they can muster. There's a small river, too, and the terrain will box the French in, close to the river. I want Asia to anchor as close to the bank as possible and take the road under fire. Keep the French from advancing while we help with the evacuation." Tony nodded, looking at the chart. The depths were not marked in fathoms. "How deep is the river up there, Sir Charles?" "The Portuguese maintain you can sail as close as a cable length from the bank. I shall post the Heron halfway up the river, to relay signals between us. Three red flares at night means immediate withdrawal. Any comments?" "No, Sir Charles. Can I have that chart, or can we make a copy?" "No, take that chart. The flood tide will set in soon. I suggest you steal yourself upstream while the tide helps, but stay away from the banks." "Aye-aye, Sir. With your permission, I shall return to Asia." "Of course. Good luck, Carter!" Back in the Asia, Tony had the free watch roused. Fortunately, the clouds had opened, and the moon would rise in an hour. On the quarterdeck, Tony briefed his officers before the marines manned the capstan. Ten minutes later, Asia crept upstream with the rising tide, under doubly reefed topsails. As they crossed the river and sailed almost due north, Tony saw a multitude of flickering lights ahead. Those were bivouac fires, Tony realised. A small group of fires to the south was separated from a much larger assembly of fires to the north by a half mile of no-man's land. Tony closed his telescopic glass with a decisive click. The opportunity was too good to be missed. "Mr. Dougherty, we'll announce ourselves to the French. Have the portside batteries loaded and run out. Canister on top of round shot. We can probably get in two or three or four broadsides before the French will extinguish those fires. I want them to be cold tonight and worried." "Aye-Aye, Sir. The poor devils will have no idea what hit them," Dougherty opined. "They won't have forty guns our size even in their siege train." Slowly, Asia passed the Portuguese fires. In the moonlight, Tony could discern the small river that emptied into the Tagus between the armies. It was almost time now. The rumble of the truck wheels announced that the guns were run out. "Half a point to starboard," Tony commanded. "Steady!" Asia was slowly sailing along the river bank. "My compliments to Mr. Chalk and can he open fire," Tony told the runner, already stuffing his ears with wax plugs. The man rushed below and five seconds later, the portside broadside of Asia exploded in fire and smoke. There was no way of telling how the shots fell, but even over the distance of two cable lengths and with his deafened ears, Tony heard the desperate cries of terrified and wounded men. Asia glided further upstream, and in the moonlight, Tony saw soldiers swarming from makeshift tents, milling around in confusion. The second broadside roared out, and Tony could see some of the tents being blown away in the iron hailstorm. The French had been taken completely by surprise, not one of them aware of the devastating firepower of a ship of the line. Further ahead, Tony saw regular tents, obviously the officers' quarters. He could see men throwing themselves on the back of prancing horses and galloping off, leaving their rank and file soldiers behind. The thought of messing up Marshal Junot's belongings was tempting, and Tony sent a runner, directing the lower decks to aim for the assembly of tents. The third broadside left a swath of destruction where the tents had stood just seconds ago. It was time to go about, though, for the tip of a large island loomed ahead. It was tricky to tack in a river, but Asia went about like a machine. A minute later, the starboard batteries had their chances to hammer the French lines. Tony allowed two more salvoes, but he suspected that the French were not around their fires anymore but scattering up the hills to the north. It was time to anchor for the night. They were athwart from the Portuguese lines when Asia's anchor dropped, and from the shore, Tony could hear the cheering of their allies. To see the unstoppable French army pummelled by Asia's guns must have given the Portuguese a moral boost. The guns were run in and the crews were allowed to rest on the gun decks, while a strong watch was detailed to guard the ship against attempts from the shore. Two guard boats patrolled around the anchored ship. Tony did not expect much in the way of attacks, not this night, but it was better to be prepared. The next night, if they were still anchored here, would be different. If Tony were in Junot's shoes, he would prepare river barges as fireships, to let them drift against the anchored Asia, and this was what they would have to be prepared against. For now, Tony sat in a deck chair, wrapped in his boat cloak and dozed off. With each bell, he stood and studied the French lines before he sat down again. Although he never fell into deep sleep, the rest helped him. There was no fire in the ship, and the breakfast consisted of buttered hardtack and light ale. When the wintry sun rose over the river valley, the Asia was already under sail, fighting the ebb tide under her topsails, and slowly making way upstream until she lay athwart from the French front lines where she anchored again. A spring cable was fixed to the bower cable, and by taking turns on the capstan, the angle by which Asia lay to the current, could be varied. Through his glass, Tony saw little movement on the French side. Obviously, they had withdrawn upriver, to rest out of range. That was good as far as Tony was concerned. He was charged with delaying the French progress, after all. Three cable lengths upriver, there was some activity, though. Tony thought he could see sappers building a breastwork. That was excellent! If Junot built up a regular siege, this would delay him for days, even weeks. Yet, Tony could understand the French commander. The last night must have stricken the terror into his soldiers, and to have them charge under the Asia's broadsides would be a risky endeavour. Beyond the breastwork, Tony could see a team of oxen pulling a heavy gun. Now he understood. Junot wanted to tighten the thumbscrews on the Asia, by installing a battery of siege guns, 24-pounders most likely, to drive the pesky ship away. This might pose a problem, later in the day. Tony did not expect them to rig a shot-heating oven, but four or five 24-pounders could do a lot of damage, even at three cable lengths distance. The position was cleverly picked, too, as it was located opposite the large island, where he could not hope to sail the Asia. However, one thing had been overlooked. Tony rushed to his cabin and composed a report to Sir Charles which he sent with the cutter. The cutter returned two hours later, but Tony could see the answer of Admiral Cotton ahead of time. Behind the cutter, the large form of the Warspite was creeping upriver. She sailed past the Asia, to the east of the river island, and she anchored abreast of the slowly growing French battery. With the low lying island blocking their views, the French could not see much of the Warspite, while the French position was easily seen from the mast tops of the ship. Accordingly, Captain Masters used a spring cable to adjust the bearing of his broadside, and then, the first broadside roared out, just as the last gun was placed in the French battery. The first salvo went wide, Tony saw, but whoever watched the fall of the shots in the Warspite's tops passed that information down to the decks. The second salvo kicked up fountains of dirt in and around the gun position, and then, Warspite started firing broadsides. Tony could see the French gunners run as fast as they could, abandoning their guns, but also the draft oxen. It took eight broadsides, but then the artillery position of the French was reduced to a pile of rubble. The gun carriages were in ruins, and two of the breeches had been hit directly and overthrown. For the next days, the artillery would be useless. The afternoon progressed with no action being pressed by the attackers, and an hour before sunset, Warspite weighed anchor and sailed downriver, past the Asia. Master waved, and Tony waved back, while the Asians cheered the Warspite's crew. Asia's crew settled for another night in the face of the enemy. Not much danger was to be feared as long as the flood tide ran, but once the ebb tide set in around midnight, Tony sent out a small flotilla of watch boats, to guard the ship against fire ships coming down with the ebb current. The crew was on alert, the sails had been doused with water, and pumps had been rigged. Nevertheless, the night passed without any attempt from the side of the French. When the morning dawned, Tony was dead tired. Two nights without real sleep had an effect on everybody. Dougherty was hollow-eyed, and even the seventeen-year-old Prince looked like an old man. "On deck, Heron is signalling!" came the call from the look out. Stiffly, Prince climbed up the mizzen shrouds, a telescope around his neck. He shouted the flag numbers and Midshipman Uxbridge did the translation. "Flag - to - Asia; engage - enemy - until - turn - of - tide." Tony nodded. Through his glass he scanned the river bank. The Portuguese positions appeared to be less crowded than the day before. Yes, the Portuguese were withdrawing. It was the Asia's task to cover their retreat. Tony looked towards the French lines next. There was movement. Apparently, Junot's spies had informed him of the retreat. A column of infantry was marching towards the deserted Portuguese lines, obviously trying to keep under the cover of the ruins of the deserted village. "Starboard battery, charge and run out. Roundshot only! Aim for the village!" Tony's commands made the officers run to their stations. The men cursed, their tired limbs protesting, when they ran out the guns. "Two palls on the spring!" was Tony's next order. The marines inserted the hand spokes into the capstan and leaned against them. The capstan moved and the palls clicked twice. "Avast there!" Tony commanded. The Asia's broadside pointed at the village now. Tony blew his whistle. Another three or four seconds passed, and the starboard side guns went off. The small houses and sheds of the village disintegrated under the roundshot, offering little to no protection to the French column. Tony saw houses collapse, likely trapping the French inside. The next broadside roared out, and more houses collapsed. The French column was now in full retreat, running head over heels for the rear lines. "Avast firing!" Tony commanded. It was enough; after all, the French were retreating, and powder and shot were expensive. For the next three hours, the French tried to advance twice more, but each time single broadsides were enough to drive them back. Then, shortly after noon, the tide turned. The men climbed aloft to loosen the topsails, and the anchor was weighed. Only minutes later, the big ship sailed out to the middle of the river, heading downstream. The Portuguese fleet was gone already, and Cotton's squadron was ready to weigh anchor. The city of Lisbon looked abandoned; obviously many inhabitants had elected to watch the French occupation from a safe distance. A signal from Cotton ordered Tony to pick up cargo and passengers. They had to anchor once more, and then three lighters full with people approached. The people were three hundred civilians, to be transported to Gibraltar, but the cargo was nothing less than sixty barrels of the best wines from the royal palace, to be evacuated lest they fell into French hands. With a grin, Tony realised that his commander in chief was not above grasping an opportunity. Once the people were aboard and the casks stowed away, Asia weighed anchor for a last time and took her position behind the Prince as the squadron sailed for the open sea. In their rear, they could see the French columns pouring into the city on the Tagus. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 12: Sir Winston Keller The squadron sailed out of sight sight of Cadiz, where Sir Charles left the frigates and sloops to maintain the illusion of a blockade for the few days they would need in Gibraltar. The rest sailed on for Gibraltar. It was hard work, beating up against the eastern wind, and it took three days for them to reach their destination. Another ship of the line was lying at anchor, and the Asians stared at her. She was almost an exact copy of the Asia. HMS Malta had been the French Guilleaume Tell before she was captured in 1800 just outside Valetta harbour, and she was a sister ship to Asia née L'Alceste. Her Captain William Shield was Tony's senior by three years. Once the squadron had anchored, the Portuguese fugitives were landed, no doubt adding to the Acting Governor's woes. Next, the various cargoes were landed, an immense opportunity for the local ship chandlers. Many of the wares "secured" from French looting were costly, and the ships of the squadron stood to make good money. The difficult situation notwithstanding, Sir Hew Dalrymple invited the officers of the squadron to dinner in his residence, an invitation that was of course accepted. On questioning the messenger, Tony ascertained that he should bring Harriet as well, and of all the captains, he was the only to be accompanied by his wife. He sent a billet, warning Harriet to be prepared for the dinner. It was late afternoon when he was rowed ashore, wearing his Nº1 uniform, with silk stockings, gold-buckled shoes, and gold-embroidered hat. He walked the short way to the rented house where an excited Jenny Johnsen opened the door and led him into the small salon. It took Harriet not more than a few minutes to finish her preparations, and she greeted him with a smile and a kiss. "I had not expected you back so soon, my darling. I already heard that you were able to evacuate the Portuguese court?" "Yes, we were quite lucky. Is everything to your liking, here?" "Yes, I like it. Everything is so small here, but we enjoy our stay. Shall we go?" Smiling, Tony offered his arm and they left the house, strolling the short distance towards the Governor's Residence. Uniformed servants received them and a page led them towards the dinner hall. One side of the table was reserved for the Navy captains. Tony and Harriet were seated according to Tony's seniority. His Excellency had been able to recruit a number of ladies to provide the unaccompanied officers with table partners, and Harriet seemed to know a number of them already. From the get-go, Tony sensed resentment between Sir Hew, the governor, and Sir Charles Cotton. The Admiral was the ranking officer at the table, sitting close to the Governor and his wife, but they barely spoke a word to each other. There was another officer present, a rear-admiral, whom Tony did not know. Captain Masters, sitting next to Tony, enlightened him. "That's Sir Winston Keller. He just recently received his flag, same time as Fanning. I fear he will be Cotton's second-in-command." "Fear?" "He's old school, and a Bible thumper to boot, if stories are true. The title's a baronetcy, passed from his grandfather. I doubt he ever fought any action. I know him from Plymouth where he commanded a receiving ship." "Why on earth did they post him here, then?" Tony asked incredulously. Masters shrugged cynically. "Look at Gambier. Bible thumpers are the rage of the season." The food served made Tony woefully aware of his luck having Nadine Blacket as housekeeper. He made a comment under is breath, causing Harriet to chuckle. "I heard that Dalrymple is in over his head financially with this posting," she whispered. "He looks worried." The evening proved to be boring to the extreme. When the unspeakable dessert had been served and the guests rose from the table, Sir Charles led Rear-admiral Keller to meet the captains. "Gentlemen, Sir Winston Keller is my new second-in-command. Sir Winston, Captain Paynter, my chief of staff. Captain Grindall of Prince, Captain Warren of Genoa, Captain Sir Anthony Carter of Asia and Lady Carter, Captain Masters of Warspite, Captain..." Bows were exchanged with each introduction, but Tony noticed Keller's eyes return to Harriet every few seconds. Well, she was a beautiful woman, and Navy officers rarely had a chance to feast their eyes on women. He dismissed it as human. "... Asia and Warspite will join Malta under Admiral Keller's command." Tony scrambled his brain to retrieve that last sentence from his subconscious. "Gentlemen, I deem it as a blessing from the Almighty to have such distinguished officers serving under my flag. We shall sail day after tomorrow, to worry the Spanish and Portuguese coasts. Those transports, York and Caroline will sail with us and transport the marines under Major Thornapple. "I look forward to knowing you better. Perhaps you gentlemen and you, Lady Carter, will grace my table at dinner, tomorrow?" An invitation from an admiral was an order. Besides, the captains were curious about Sir Winston. Tony groaned inwardly, however. He had counted on at least one evening in Harriet's arms, but a dinner could last well into the night, and he could not sleep ashore without Keller's express permission. He felt Harriet's hand press his arm encouragingly. At least, the dinner would be early. They bade their farewells and walked back to the rented house. The children were asleep already. Harriet gave Tony a mischievous smile. "We are alone, it seems, praise the Almighty." Tony grinned back. "I believe the time for worship has come." The bed was rather small, but neither Tony nor Harriet minded that. In no time at all, they were undressed. This time, Harriet had had the benefit of a bath earlier in the day, and Tony saw no need to restrain his worshipping. Happy squeals escaped from Harriet's mouth when Tony kissed his way down her body, taking his time to explore her sensitive spots. For the first time since their reconciliation, he licked and probed her delicate opening, using his mouth and fingers until he had Harriet squirming and moaning. Determined to bring her to a release, he ignored it when she tried to pull him up. He continued his assault on her sex until she shrieked and tensed up. Her back arched and she shuddered through a release. Now it was time for Tony to kiss his way up again, over her stomach and her chest, taking his time to suck on her nipples, and finally, kissing and probing her mouth. By this time, Harriet returned the fierce kissing while her hand sought and found his member and aligned it to her needy opening. It took only two strokes to penetrate her fully, and her legs closed around Tony's hips, her feet locking and keeping him trapped where she wanted him. Harriet's lust had barely abated, and his rhythmic strokes soon brought her close to her next release. Sensing this, Tony held back a little, resting on his arms and taking his time kissing Harriet's face, her ears and her neck while his loins barely kept moving. Harriet's eyes opened with the smouldering look that fuelled Tony's desire like nothing else. "Tony, don't play with me!" she pleaded in an urgent whisper. "Fuck me!" The obscenity coming from Harriet's mouth brushed away what restraint he had. His loins resumed the thrusting, more urgent than before and deeper, too. He felt the fluttering contractions of Harriet's canal, he felt her nails dig into his back, and for his life, he could not hold back anymore. With a sound akin to a violent sob, he drove his member deep into his wife, spearing her, and pushing his pulsing member deeply into her womb. Harriet answered with a sobbing cry of her own, and for a few heartbeats, Tony felt a wonderful blackness engulf him. He came to in Harriet's arms where she cradled his head, stroking his hair and forehead. "I love you so much, Tony," she whispered tenderly. "You are my life and my happiness." "To have your love makes me a blessed man," Tony answered sincerely. "I wish I could stay the night, but..." "I know, darling. I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?" "Of course. I'll try to come for breakfast, to see the children, and then again, we'll go to Keller's dinner." "I don't like him," Harriet stated decidedly. "He makes my skin crawl with his voice." "He's not my ideal of an admiral either," Tony sighed. "Why on earth did he receive this command?" "I'll ask father in my next letter," Harriet promised. "Meanwhile, be careful. He's likely going to see every flippant remark as blasphemous." "Well, at least, Asia is not his flagship. Darling, I need to dress and return to the ship." "Let me help you, darling," she answered. Using a wash cloth, she cleaned his midsection and helped him put on his uniform. With a kiss, he bade her good-night and left the house. At the quay, the gig was waiting, and a scant ten minutes later, he was back in the Asia's after cabin. ------- Dinner in the Malta was a stiff and uncomfortable affair. Keller kept a young priest as his private secretary, and he had his guests sit through an abbreviated service before dinner was served. The food was barely up to the standards. Keller had never seen much service, and probably never won prize money. His flag was new, meaning he had not drawn rear-admiral's pay for long, and this explained the lean cooking. What was worse was the oppressive atmosphere. Keller discouraged any talk about naval affairs and kept bringing up religious topics. Neither Tony nor Masters could contribute much here, and neither could Captain Monroe of the York and Lt. Malloy of the Caroline. Only Captain Shields seemed used or resigned to his admirals predilection and contributed the appropriate platitudes. Both Harriet and Tony were bored stiff when finally the toasts were offered, accompanied by a pitiful selection of spirited drinks. When they left, Keller made it a point to acknowledge Harriet, wishing her a continued pleasant stay in Gibraltar, and asking her to convey his respectful greetings to Sir Richard Lambert. With Harriet hand on his left arm, Tony felt her apprehension and her dislike for the man. On deck, waiting for the gigs, Masters gave a whispered comment. "Now, this was a joyful evening, wasn't it?" Harriet, still holding Tony's arm, giggled. "I wish you much heavy weather to prevent further dinners in the flagship," she whispered back. "He's a fount of merriment, isn't he," Tony added, again to Harriet's giggle. The gig brought Tony and Harriet to the quay, and he accompanied her to their rented house. He could not stay, but his farewell kiss left Harriet with a dreamy expression and weak knees. With the dawn's first light, the small squadron weighed anchor and made its way out of the Bahia de Algeciras. Once beyond the Strait, they sailed a west-north-west course until they reached Cape Sagres. From there, it was less than a half day to reach the small fishing village of Porto Covo, their first target. They came together in the Malta the evening before they reached Porto Covo. Keller appeared upbeat for some reason as he explained the plan to take the small village and its port and wait for the French and Spanish to react. Major Applethorn could assemble over six-hundred marines, and the ships would provide firepower if needed. After explaining the aims and the situation, Keller dropped the bomb. "Captain Carter will command the landing force." Applethorn reacted with indignation. "Sir Winston," he began, but Keller silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Major, the landing force will be under the command of a senior Navy officer. Besides, Captain Carter is also a Colonel of the Royal Marines, I believe?" He chuckled at his joke. "You will be second-in-command, of course. "Now, gentlemen, any suggestions on your part?" "There are two forts, Sir Winston," Tony pointed at the map. "For all we know, they may still be held by Portuguese troops. The French may have taken them, too. We must approach from the north. Once we have taken the port, we can make contact with the forts." Keller nodded reluctantly. "That puts us in a tight spot if we want to surprise them in the early morning, but I see your point. Any comments, gentlemen?" Masters shook his head. "This is mostly a lee coast, Sir Winston. When it blows hard from the west, we may have to stand off from the land. That may put our landing force in peril when they have to re-embark." "Yes, indeed. What can we do about it?" Keller asked curtly. "Nothing, really, but we need to keep our eyes open." "That is understood, Captain. Now, tomorrow, we shall need every boat in the squadron. I have read up on the reports of several landing operations, chief of all the recent operation against Copenhagen. It is of utmost importance that the boats reach the beach in one single wave. The boats will carry swivel guns, to clear the beach of enemy forces. Once the beachhead is established, our forces will move decisively towards the village. Preparations for a defence will be made immediately. Any questions, gentlemen?" "We are not holding on to that place, Sir Winston?" Tony asked, rather surprised. "Sir Charles explained that our strategy is to force the French and their allies into forced marches, to recapture our beachheads. Then we'd retreat and hit at another place." "Exactly, Captain. Yet, we shall let them bleed, too, before they can recapture our beachheads." "Sir Winston, once we have taken those forts, we should destroy them or at least destroy their guns," Masters suggested. "Why not take those guns?" Tony asked. "Those are old fortresses, likely two-hundred or more years old. They will have bronze guns, big ones, too. Say two and a half ton each. Fifty tons of bronze will yield a pretty penny at the Woolwich Arsenal." "Excellent idea!" Keller exclaimed, obviously excited at the prospect of loot. "I can see the makings of a success. Yet, gentlemen, let us not forget that we are mere mortals and in the hand of a gracious deity. Let us pray for a victorious outcome." A hand sign made the secretary/priest stand from his desk and lead the prayer. "Oh Lord, we praise you. In your hands we put ourselves in the coming perils..." Ten minutes later, Tony was in his gig and returning to the Asia. While the ships were ploughing the sea on a northern course, Tony relayed the plan to his officers. He picked Midshipman Uxbridge as his runner, but he left the rest of the officers to Lt. Dougherty. There was one point he had to make. "Captain Bell, Lt. McNeill, you will form a separate body with the Asia's marines, and you will answer directly to me." Bell made a face. "Aye, Aye, Sir, only, Major Applethorn won't like that." Tony grinned. "Who do you prefer to displease, Major Applethorn or Colonel Carter?" This caused laughter all around the table, but Bell was not happy. Tony did not care. He did not plan to rely completely on Applethorn whom he did not know at all. Next, he detailed the boat crews. He also handed a spare key to his desk to Mr. Dougherty, with information where Dougherty would find his will. "It's only a small village, Sir," Dougherty protested. "It takes only one man with a musket," Tony reminded his second-in-command. "Don't worry. I fully plan on returning. Just keep the ship off the coast but close. Once we give signal, have the supplies shipped over. I don't know what we'll find in that village in the way of ordnance. We may have need for some extra four-pounders to fortify the place." Once the meeting had ended, Tony ordered Giles to ready the land uniform. Given the numbers of marines they had taken on board in Portsmouth, Tony had anticipated landing operations, and he had come prepared. A pair of sturdy boots, together with white infantry trousers would look odd with his captain's coat, but would be more practical for the purpose. He also checked his pistols and filled his powder horn. A canteen made from thin brass was also laid in readiness. Tony was prepared. He did not sleep well that night. Many things went through his head, and many questions remained. Porto Covo was not well suited for a target. The only access was by a road coming from Santiago do Cacém which did not lead along the coast, precluding effective support from the ships. Add to that the small size of the village and its dismal harbour, and Tony could not see the sense in landing there. It would be a waste of resources if not human lives. Yet, Keller's orders were clear and it was for Tony to execute them. The wind moderated during the night, and when the morning broke, they were still well to the south of Porto Covo. Tony shrugged. So much for Keller's plan to surprise whoever held the place by daybreak! It was six bells in the Forenoon Watch before Keller signalled for the squadron to go about on an eastern course and close to eight bells when they made the landfall. As they approached the coast, Tony had the landing force assemble on deck. The squadron made use of the southerly wind, sailing to within three cable lengths of the shore before they hove to. At once, Asia's large boats were launched, and the first group of marines climbed down. The gig was ready, too, and when the boats were ready, Tony climbed down into the gig after shaking Dougherty's hand. Warspite's boats were ready, too, and Malta's were only lagging a little. Ten minutes after heaving-to, the flotilla of boats started for a short stretch of sandy beach, north of the inlet that formed the small harbour of Porto Covo. The boats made the short distance within a few minutes while Tony was scanning the beach, looking for signs of a defence. There were none. The boats ran ashore on the small sand beach and the marines under Captain Bell splashed over the sides into the shallow water. A vanguard was posted on the cliff overlooking the beach while the rest of the boats landed. Once the first wave of marines was ashore, Major Applethorn had them take possession of the low cliffs surrounding the beach while the boats returned to the ships. Tony, followed by Midshipman Uxbridge and, of course, by John Little, also climbed the cliffs. From the top, he could see the first houses of the village, only two hundred paces inland. A small group of three men were approaching them. This did not look like any organised resistance. Tony had the translator, a young man from Lisbon who had joined Asia's crew, come forward. Pedro Nunez was in his early twenties, and he spoke almost perfect English having worked for a wine merchant in Porto before. Meanwhile, the three men had come nearer, and Tony could see that one of them wore expensive civilian clothes. That man hailed them from twenty paces away. Tony nudged Nunez who hailed back. A rapid exchange developed, and then, Nunez turned to Tony. "This is the Baron of Porto Covo, Don Fernandes Bandeira, Sir. He wants to know what we are doing here." "Tell him, we came to take the village and harbour for Her Majesty, Maria of Portugal, our ally." Nunez translated, and the Baron answered. "He says, he is a loyal servant of Her Most Faithful Majesty. He welcomes us to Porto Covo, Sir." "Tell him, thank you, and ask him if there are French or Spanish forces nearby." A brief exchange later, Nunez shook his head. "No French, no Spanish, Sir. They have not come here yet. There is a loyal Major of Artillery who commands the forts and the Baron will send for him." "Very good. Ask him if we can move our men towards the village and harbour." Again, the two men talked in Portuguese. "He invites you to his house, Sir, with your staff. He says, it's an honour for him. He says, it's better to talk there." Tony gave the Baron a courteous bow which was returned. "Tell the Baron I accept with gratitude." Now, this had to be the easiest landing operation in Navy history! Tony grinned inwardly about the worries he had felt the night before. "Major Applethorn, will you accompany me to the Baron's house? It appears we are welcome here." Applethorn nodded curtly. "Of course, Sir Anthony. Do you think we may be able to billet in the village?" "Let us hope so. We can ask him. For now, I suggest we move our men towards the harbour and post a strong guard to the east of the village." "Certainly, Sir Anthony," the Major answered stiffly. At the Baron's large home, they were received by the Baron and his family, but also by a Major of Artillery by the name of Ferreira. Polite phrases, concurrently translated by Nunez, were exchanged, and the Baron invited them to an improvised meal. While they partook of the food, Tony learned that Porto Covo had been spared any attention from the invading French and Spanish forces. Too narrow was the small road that led down to the coast, too little importance was ascribed to this fishing village, for the invaders to expend any energies on its capture. There was nothing to conquer, nothing to defend, nothing to do. Leaving Major Applethorn in charge, Tony took his gig and had himself rowed out to the Malta which was still hove-to on the roads in front of Porto Covo. He was very careful when he reported to Keller, describing the friendly welcome and the general situation. Keller hemmed and hawed for a while before he decided to have himself rowed to the shore, to speak the Baron in person. Meanwhile, Tony returned to the Asia, his task completed. He spent the next hour putting his report in writing and had it sent to the flagship. Asia and the other ships stayed hove-to for all afternoon, only occasionally beating to windward for two tacks to maintain position. It was evening before Keller returned from the shore, and before the light waned, a signal was hoisted calling the captains to the flagship. No food was served, and the wine offered was even worse than what they had endured during the last invitation. Tony only sipped on his glass, afraid of getting a head ache. "Well, gentlemen, today's operation was indeed well executed, and I have to congratulate you all, in particular Sir Anthony and Major Applethorn. We will re-embark the marines tomorrow in the afternoon. That should give Major Applethorn sufficient time to exercise the marines on solid ground for a change. All this gives me the certainty that our first real landing operation will be performed with all the dexterity and decisiveness one can expect." "So, this was an exercise, Sir Winston?" Captain Masters asked. Knowing Masters, Tony could sense the anger underneath his polite exterior. "Yes, of course," Keller answered smugly. "Of course, I did not tell you. I could not allow you to slack, could I?" Tony barely suppressed a sharp intake of breath at the affront. Keller continued, seemingly without an idea that he had just antagonised his immediate subordinates. "You see, under my command, things are executed with proper planning and after thorough practice. We need to whip our ships in shape before we expose our landing forces to serious opposition." Masters could not resist. "Sir, are you implying that our ships are not up to the standards?" "Perhaps, up to common standards, but not quite up to my standards, Captain. With the help of our gracious deity, we shall make this the finest squadron in the Navy. You gentlemen just follow my leadership." Masters seemingly had a fit of coughing and he had to clear his throat. Keller looked at him with annoyance. "Captain Masters, I do not appreciate schoolboy antics from my senior captains." "I'm most sorry, Sir Winston," Masters said, his voice still hoarse. "The wine must have gone to my head." Tony had to bite his lips, but he managed to keep his composure. Captain Shields covered his snort with a cough of his own, catching a furious look from Keller. "I'm sorry, Sir Winston," Shields wheezed sheepishly. "I am afraid you gentlemen do not take our duty serious enough. This will be a long and arduous campaign, and I should appreciate a serious attitude. Take an example on Sir Anthony. He at least shows the sort of conduct I can expect." "Sir Winston," Tony started, "I am certain the gentlemen did not mean any flippancy. You have to realise, Sir, that we are not new to this sort of action. I believe you can rely on our crews performing to your satisfaction." "Captain, I am quite aware that you are a veteran of Trafalgar. You need not remind me of that." "This is not what I meant, Sir Winston," Tony protested. "Oh, please, Captain! I am quite aware of the talk in the wardrooms. My last commands were receiving ships. I have not been to sea in seven years. I'll have you know, though, that I still have vastly more experience over any of you! Now I must ask you to return to your ships. We shall sail for San Augustin do Vendao. This will be real, so all of you better whip those crews into shape! Dismissed!" Once they were on deck, waiting for their boats, Masters apologised. "I shouldn't have reacted that way, but he got my gander up." Shields shook his head. "These dismal commands must have eaten up his soul badly." He lowered his voice. "You're lucky. I have to attend his damn prayers at all times." "We have to make the best of it," Tony said thoughtfully. "Once we have some success to show, his mood is bound to improve." After the marines had re-embarked, the squadron set sail and sailed north. Tony studied the charts and found San Augustin another small fishing village, albeit with a better harbour and closer to Lisbon. Intelligence was yet sketchy, and there was no way to know what they would find. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 13: Uriah the Hittite In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab and sent it by the hand of Uriah. In the letter he wrote, "Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, that he may be struck down, and die." 2 Samuel 14ff San Augustin lay peacefully in the winter sun as the squadron approached. There was a small fort south of the inlet, and they drew fire from there, but the distance was over one nautical mile, too far for the French or Spanish gunners to do any serious harm. The landing was more tricky here in San Augustin than at Porto Covo, because the beach chosen for landing was strewn with large rocks. It looked forbidden, and indeed the Portuguese had saved themselves the expense of protecting it with gun emplacements. Once they drew closer, Tony could see the Spanish Red and Gold flying over the harbour battery, and his hand touched the hilt of his sword. It was not the first time that the Toledo blade would be drawn against Spanish soldiers and crews. As in Porto Covo, Tony had been placed in command of the landing force. Major Applethorn still resented that, but had obviously noticed that Tony had not vied for the command. He had been more forthcoming during the last planning session. The squadron could not come closer to the beach than a mile off, and after a last handshake with Dougherty, Tony climbed over the side and in to the waiting launch. The gig would be of little use this time. Tony had the squadron's boats fan out to present as fickly a target for field pieces as possible, and indeed, once they came closer, gunsmoke blew up and some smaller roundshot buzzed past the boats. Six-pounder pieces, Tony assumed. The Spanish gunners could not harm any of the boats, and when the first launch made the beach and the Marines swarmed out, the Spanish up and ran for the town. A few skirmishers tried to harass them, but Applethorn quickly sent out vanguards who dealt with them. While the Marines formed file on the beach, the boats returned. Tony had left orders to replace the boat crews after each run, and the second wave came over just as quickly. Now they had over five-hundred Marines landed, and it was time to advance to San Augustin. The small town had only remnants of its medieval fortifications; the ancient ring wall had collapsed in the earthquake. Under Applethorn's able direction, the Marines formed three columns and attacked the town from three sides, leaving only the waterfront with the fort open. This was where the Spanish retreated to. After conferring with Applethorn, Tony had a signalling station set up on top of a church tower, and he sent the pre-arranged signal to the squadron. While the Spanish in the small fort were busy to move the eight or nine bronze pieces to landward, to fight off the Marines, Warspite detached from the squadron and made for the inlet. It was check and mate, and thankfully, the Spanish commander realised it in time, knowing that he could not fight off a ship of the line and a half-batallion of Marines at the same time. Tony allowed Applethorn to negotiate the surrender. In exchange for the senior officers, a major and two captains, being detained as prisoners of war, the rank and file troops were allowed to retreat after leaving behind their weapons and provisions. While those negotiations were under way, Tony already arranged for the defence of the town against forces coming from inland. The Portuguese population was allowed to leave the town, sparing them the dangers of pillaging once the Franco-Spanish forces took the place back. The less civilians remained, the less to worry about. A few brave souls volunteered to join the British, and those were placed as lookouts in the next town inland, to warn them of approaching enemies. Once the town was properly evacuated, Tony and Major Applethorn planned the defence properly. The guns from the fort were dismounted. The lighter pieces, together with the left-behind Spanish field guns, were grouped in two batteries, facing up the small river that had formed the valley and the small harbour. Work parties from the ships joined in the effort to build strong emplacements, shielded by earth walls. Applethorn knew something of sieges, and the emplacements were built with a regular entrenchment and with subdivisions. For the next four days, the work parties who came from the ships returned dog tired every evening. Fresh spring water to drink and fresh food lifted their spirits enough, though, to keep the work going. Five days after the landing, San Augustin was prepared for any attacks from inland. Provisions were plentiful, too. In fact, a local warehouse filled with wines and spirits was evacuated and the contents shipped out to the squadron. Still, the men received wine in place of their rum allotment, and they ate fresh produce for a change, and they were in excellent spirits. Six days after the landing, Keller came ashore to inspect the place, and Tony received him with proper decorum. They also delivered their reports. Tony had allowed Applethorn to write the report about taking the town and the fort, adding it to his own report as attachment. That would mean that the Gazette might print it over Applethorn's name, and the Major was grateful. Keller complimented both of them for their conduct, but then he announced that he would take the squadron out to sea. Tony protested, since this would separate him from his ship, a breach of Navy regulations, but Keller maintained that this move would lure the French to a counter-attack on San Augustin. The transport, Gwendoline, would stay in the harbour, and once the French approached, she could sail and meet the squadron at a rendezvous point, fifty miles off the shore. Then, the squadron would return in force and evacuate the landing force. Tony protested again, reminding Keller of the imponderability of wind and sea, causing Keller to respond with a scathing remark. "Captain, I am surprised. You seem to be altogether too concerned about your safety, it would seem." Tony turned white as a sheet. Applethorn looked shocked, too. "Sir, if this is your opinion, then I must ask for a court-martial to clear my name." Keller stared at Tony for a moment, probably realising the graveness of his accusations which would be refuted by any court martial, given the tactical situation and given Tony's record as captain and his reputation. He cleared his throat laboriously. "Captain, I spoke in haste and I apologise for my ill-advised remark. I have only the highest opinion of your bravery and my words merely conveyed my surprise at finding you so over-cautious." "Sir, we cannot hold this place with five-hundred marines if the French make any serious effort at recapture," Applethorn added his opinion. "Once they appear in force, we have to evacuate quickly." "Oh please, gentlemen! You just spent almost a week to build your defensive positions. You can hold off any force for a week." "That would largely depend on the force we will face, Sir Winston. We are close to the French base of operations. Junot may just send a division." "Why would he do that against our five-hundred marines?" Keller snorted. "For one thing, Junot may not know we have only five-hundred men here. God knows what the Spanish major has told him to absolve himself of any accusations," Tony argued. "Captain, I must ask you to refrain from naming Our Lord's name in vain! Any repetition will meet with my strong disapproval." "Very well, Sir Winston. Nevertheless, we..." "I wasn't finished. To imply that an officer and gentleman, even a Spanish one, would lie to a superior officer is quite farfetched in my experience." The caustic reply asking Keller just how many Spanish gentlemen he had encountered while commanding receiving ships in Plymouth was on Tony's tongue, but he bit it back. "In the French Army, Sir Winston, there is no tolerance for failure. The Spanish major may find himself cashiered or worse if it comes out that his over two-hundred men, in a fortified position, surrendered almost without a shot fired." "Enough, Captain. My decision is made. I cannot expose the ships to the dangers of a lee coast just because some Spanish major may have lied to his superiors. You have a strong, fortified position yourself, and I expect you to hold it. Once the pressure grows too strong, send out the Gwendoline and we shall come to your aid." "May I ask for this order in writing, Sir Winston?" Tony asked through his clenched teeth. "Since your orders run counter to my duties as Captain of the Asia, I need this should something untoward happen to you." "You are being impertinent, Captain!" "It is my right, Sir Winston," Tony remained steadfast. He had no plans to be the scapegoat if this operation went wrong. The eyes of the two men met for almost a minute before Keller gave in. "Very well, Captain, I'll send those orders once I am back." "Sir Winston, your secretary is here, and I have writing materials," Tony answered mercilessly. Keller gave him a look of pure murder, but then he turned and barked an order for his secretary. The young chaplain sat down and took the dictation, while Tony and Major Applethorn watched and listened. When the secretary was finished, Keller threw his signature on the paper and thrust it into Tony's hands. "Can I expect you to follow my orders now, Captain?" "Of course, Sir Winston," Tony answered with as much equanimity as possible. "I shall send for my dunnage now." With an angry snort, Keller turned and left the customs building that housed Tony's land quarters. Tony shrugged and sat down to write a short letter to Harriet, advising her of his new orders. He entrusted the letter and the written orders to John Little and sent him out to Asia to have some cabin stores, more clothes, and a few personal items sent over. Tony also wrote an order to Lt. Dougherty, specifying the orders under which he stayed ashore and empowering his First Lieutenant to act on his captain's behalf. That done, Tony continued to supervise the defensive preparations. He slept in a comfortable bed that night, in the customs inspector's chamber, after enjoying a supper prepared from the inspector's provisions. When he woke, at dawn, he stood on the balcony and saw the squadron already gone. Keller had not wasted any time. Only the Gwendoline was still lying at anchor in the small harbour. Shrugging, Tony ordered breakfast to which he invited Applethorn. The major was watching Tony intently. "Sir Anthony, I beg your pardon, but are you not worried about making Admiral Keller your enemy?" Tony allowed himself a smile. "What can he do? Have me removed from my command? Fine, that will give me a chance to stay with my wife for some time. Accuse me of any wrongdoing? He'll have to contend with the backlash then. My wife's parents are not without influence, and he must know it. No, I'm not concerned." "He may still retaliate, Sir. What if he leaves us here? He can claim adverse weather or another engagement." "And leave five hundred marines behind? Sir Charles would have him beached for life. Do not worry too much, Major. Let us inspect our men and hear the reports." That afternoon, one of the Portuguese volunteers galloped into the town square, bringing the news of the French approaching. He had seen the vanguard some twenty miles up the river, and it was a half-batallion strong, in other words, it matched their own forces. The main body would be a full division, Applethorn estimated. Tony made it a point to appear calm, but he was worried. His worst case scenario was coming true. With Applethorn, he planned the defence. Any troops had to pass through a small village, a mile and a half upriver, and this was where they would place their first line of defence. Tony had kegs with gunpowder brought there. A whole keg was emptied on the cobbled village road, with lines of powder leading into the houses that contained more gunpowder. The French would march into the village at night, and with the nailed soles of their boots ignite the powder. Their field guns were readied, too, and the gun crews instructed. The brittle brick walls of the village houses would afford little protection for the French against the British guns, in particular after the first gunpowder charges were lighted. Come the nightfall, the marines went into readiness. There was nothing to do but wait, but some time before midnight, the advance posts reported the sound of marching soldiers. Tony kept his glass trained on the village, but he could see nothing in the darkness ahead. That changed! He had just taken the glass off his eye when suddenly the darkness ahead exploded in light and smoke. Like a well planned fireworks, one powder charge after the other exploded, and Tony could imagine the havoc wreaked by the flying debris. Survivors emerged from the dense smoke, blinded and coughing, stumbling forward in dazed stupor. Those were quickly taken captive as a company strength detachment of the Marines advanced on the village. Musket fire could be heard in the dark, and soon, the Marines returned and Captain Brent reported that the French were retreating upriver. This allowed Applethorn to allow his men some sleep while Tony had Lt. Malloy of Gwendoline roused and report at headquarters. They would need the squadron here as soon as possible. The ammunition they had would never be enough to hold off a division strength enemy. Also, Keller had not even left them a surgeon to deal with the wounded. It was time for the ships to return. Tony wrote his report in duplicate. He had Major Applethorn verify the copy before he sent Lt. Malloy off with the Gwendoline to find Keller and the squadron. He was then able to find a few hours of sleep. At daybreak, they sent scouts to the village, and they reported back that the trap had been successful. The narrow village street was littered with dead and wounded soldiers. Tony received that report with mixed emotions. This was a diversion only, yet it had already cost many lives on the French side. Also, the cries for help from the wounded could be heard even in San Augustin. He snapped his glass shut and sent for Captain Bell. A few minutes later, Bell, accompanied by his ensign who waved a white flag of truce, slowly approached the village. Tony could see a French officer emerging from the rubble of the collapsed houses, meeting Bell. The discussion did not take long, and Bell returned. "He will inform General Chambon of your offer, Sir. He'll be back soon to give you their answer." Perhaps an hour later, another French officer emerged, under flag of truce and approached the British position. Tony stood and met the man, a Colonel, half ways. The man even spoke English. "Colonel Chevalier de Chaunessy, at your service," he said, bowing politely. He had to be an Irish renegade, or rather descended from one. Tony recognised traces of a gaelic tongue even through the French accent. The reddish hair and sideburns were another indicator. "Captain Sir Anthony Carter, Royal Navy, at your service, Sir," Tony replied, equally bowing. "General Chambon asked me to thank you for your offer, Sir. We agree to your proposed truce, to recover our wounded and dead." Tony nodded. "We shall hold fire until you notify us of being finished." "That is very kind of you. Many of our men are buried under collapsed walls, and it will take time to recover them." "Take all the time you need, Colonel," Tony replied with a straight face. This was all about buying time until the squadron could return. De Chaunessy gave him a grim smile. "Would you also like to parley, perhaps about a conditional surrender? I seems your ships left you alone. General Chambon commands a full division, and a siege train is on the way, too. It would save many lives if you gave up your misguided adventure, Captain." Tony managed to give the man a careless smile. "I thank you for your consideration. I shall offer you the same courtesy, of course, once this - how did you call it, adventure? - has played out. Please give my respectful greetings to General Chambon." De Chaunessy nodded politely. "I wish you a good day, Captain." He retreated to his own lines, and soon, French soldiers poured into the village, and for the rest of the day, they were busy extracting their fallen from the rubble. From the tower of the small church, Tony could see that the French were also busy building a camp, a mile upriver from the destroyed village. Applethorn watched them, too, and confirmed that they were preparing for a regular siege. Obviously, Chambon was a cautious commander and not prone to have his men charge against an unknown enemy position. Or perhaps, he was cunning, making them believe in prolonged preparations rather than an immediate charge. Tony and Applethorn argued this point and decided to keep a strong force in readiness. They had already allowed most of their men to sleep and rest for all day, knowing that the next nights would not see many chances for sleep. Shortly before dusk, the French sent a messenger informing Tony that they had finished the recovery of their fallen. Included with it was a bottle of fine French brandy from the Cognac as token of Gen. Chambon's esteem. Tony chuckled inwardly. If Chambon thought he'd partake of this fine drink immediately, he would be disappointed. A little after midnight, a runner woke Tony from his short sleep. There was movement in the ruins of the village. When he reached the gun emplacements, Applethorn was already there. "I have ordered the guns to be loaded with canister, Sir," he whispered to Tony. "Very well," Tony whispered back. "Are your men ready?" "I have four hundred here, Sir. The rest must guard the flanks." "I see," Tony mumbled, peering through his glass. "Here they come. By God, they are charging! Gunners, no salvoes! One after the other. Aim for the road ahead. Are those quoins in? All right, we'll start with the leftmost gun. Gunners, count to five from the last shot before you fire. Reload immediately. All clear? First gun, fire!" The nine-pounder roared out, spouting flames and 12 pounds of musket balls along the road. In the muzzle flash, Tony could see the charging French soldiers, some two hundred yards away. The next gun bellowed, and they heard cries and curses from the charging enemy column. With each discharge, the French came nearer, but the guns took a toll on them. Applethorn had his men in four files. When the last of their guns fired, the French were less than thirty yards away, and Applethorn had the first file fire their muskets. One hundred musket balls smashed into the charging French, dropping the men in front and making those behind them stumble. The charge slowed, and then the second file fired their muskets, adding to the confusion among the French. A blue firework was lighted and hurled towards the French. In its eery light, they saw the French column in disarray, and Applethorn had his third file fire their musket balls. Now, the first reloaded gun fired, followed by the second. In the dying light of the firework, they saw the French turn and run while the fourth musket salvo smashed into their rears. "Cease firing!" Tony ordered. "Down everybody!" Just as expected, the French now opened fire with their guns from beyond the village. Applethorn had most of the marines retreat and left only fifty men in their front position, to reduce possible losses. However, with the British guns now silent, the French gunners had little to direct their fire in the darkness, and most of their shots never came near the British position. A few, though, landed among them, and they had the first casualties, both among the marines and among the gun crews. For the most part, however, the men were secure in the trenches and behind the breastworks. Tony knew this would change as soon as the French siege train with its heavy guns arrived, and he hoped for a speedy arrival of the squadron. Come the morning, the French fire intensified. This time, they did not accept Tony's offer to recover their fallen. Instead, they began to build trenches inside the destroyed village, obviously in preparation for another charge. Using two mortars, the British gunners started to rain shells on the French forward positions, scoring a number of direct hits and thus slowing down the French efforts. By evening, there was still no sign of the squadron on the offing, although the wind was fair for the purpose. That night, the British expected another night attack but none materialised. Nevertheless, the French maintained a sporadic cannonade, effectively keeping anybody from sleeping. In the morning, there was still no sign from the squadron. Tony could tell from the faces around him that the men were becoming worried. He could not help against an uneasy feeling either. A lot of things can happen out at sea that would prevent the squadron from responding, and Keller had already shown that anticipating the unexpected was not his strong suit. It was with great relief that Midshipman Uxbridge came to announce that a sail had been sighted heading for the harbour. The relief was short-lived when they saw it was only one sail, a frigate. When she drew nearer, Tony recognised her as Hermione, 32, one of Sir Charles Cotton's cruisers. Tony was able to signal to her, and an hour later, her captain, James Brock, was rowed ashore. Brock knew nothing of Keller's squadron; he was just cruising the coast, looking for French blockade runners. Seeing the position the landing force was in, he landed more supplies for them and then sailed to alert Sir Charles of the situation. For the first time in a day, Tony felt some confidence. Sir Charles, he knew, would react properly. They spent the day under an increasing barrage from the French guns. They had found their range now, hitting the British gun placements with regularity. Come the night fall, Tony and Applethorn had the rest of their guns moved back into new positions, two hundred yards back. They left behind kegs filled with gunpowder and musket balls and four volunteers with glowing fuses. When the French advanced from the village towards the British lines, they were once again caught in the explosions and retreated. Nevertheless, they sent out another reconnaissance force, and when the British gunners repelled them, the French discovered their new positions. For the rest of the night, the French maintained a punishing fire on the gun placements, and by morning, only three guns remained of the twelve they had started with. The marines and the gun crews had incurred losses, too. Thirteen dead and thirty-four wounded had been recorded since the start of the fighting. True, the French had lost four times as many or more, but that hardly made a dent in their great numbers. By mid-morning however, the situation changed profoundly. No fewer than ten sails were in approach, and Midshipman Uxbridge could make out Sir Charles Cotton's flag. An hour later, Tony gave his report to Captain Paynter who had come ashore. Using the makeshift signal station, Paynter then commandeered the squadron's boats to begin the evacuation. Also, a new addition to the squadron, the bomb ketch Vulcan made the harbour. This one had two 13-inch mortars with a range exceeding a nautical mile. With direction from a signal station on the church tower, Vulcan was quickly able to find the range of the French gun emplacements. Within a half hour, while the first wounded marines and ratings were ferried out to the squadron, the mortar fire from Vulcan silenced the French siege guns. Once, a heavy explosion even signified the destruction of a magazine. Fresh marines from the ships replaced the tired landing force who were ferried out next, while working parties from the ships retrieved all the guns and other items of value. It was past midnight when the last of the marines were re-embarked and an exceedingly tired Captain Carter made his report to Sir Charles Cotton. Sir Charles was displeased at the situation as Tony could see. Major Applethorn made his report, too, and Cotton's irritation grew. Their reports were briefly interrupted when the magazines of the Portuguese fort blew up, lighting up the harbour outlet and deafening their ears. Once everybody was settled again, Sir Charles had his face under control again. "All's well that ends well, gentlemen. You performed credibly under the circumstances. I shall recommend both of you to their Lordships. We shall stay hove-to until Sir Winston shows up, and then we shall again discuss the tactics and the strategy behind them. I shall see you again at breakfast, gentlemen." Thus dismissed, Tony retired to a small cabin where he found a few hours of badly needed sleep. Come the morning, Keller still had not shown. In fact, it was late afternoon when the Gwendolyn transport was sighted. Lt. Malloy was ordered to report in the Neptune, Cotton's new flagship. Tony was present when he appeared before Sir Charles. "Sir Charles, following the orders from Sir Anthony I sailed for the rendezvous, but I could not sight the squadron. I had to sail northward for another day to find it. As ordered, I handed over Sir Anthony's despatches. I was ordered to return to Gwendoline, and the next morning, Sir Winston gave this envelope with orders to deliver them to San Augustin." Paynter took the envelope, looking at Tony for permission. Tony just shrugged, and Paynter cut it open. He read the letter and shook his head, handing it over to Cotton. Cotton read it next, and his eyes narrowed. He looked at Malloy. "Mr. Malloy, when you reached the squadron, how were the ships employed?" Malloy was uncomfortable. "Sir Charles, from what I could see, they were going through evolutions. They still were when I sailed back." "Going through evolutions, eh? God damn..." He swallowed the rest of the curse. "Sir Anthony, Sir Winston lets you know that he will come to your assistance within two more days as urgent tasks must be completed first." Tony looked back incredulously before a bubble of anger burst and he felt his face heat. It was all he could do to keep from voicing his opinion of Keller, something that would have earned him a court-martial. Cotton nodded grimly. "I congratulate you on your admirable self control, Captain. Rest assured that I shall give Sir Winston a few instructions on how I expect him to conduct these landing operations in the future. Paynter, kindly tell Captain Barlow to set a course to meet Sir Winston's squadron." Soon, the squadron set sail and headed northward. Captain Barlow was Neptune's commander, a captain with six years seniority to Tony. Tony had supper with him and with Paynter. Once out of earshot from Sir Charles, Paynter vented his anger. "What a mess! That bible-thumping half-wit almost had you all massacred." "It was a stroke of luck that Hermione showed up when she did, Sir," Tony conceded. Paynter snorted. "Hardly luck! I gave orders to Brock to check on the operation. This is truly the worst of luck, to have this jack-in-command forced on us. There's a reason they had him command receiving ships. He lost three ships of a convoy, back in '01, and to a single privateer. Damn ninny! They should have beached him for life. Unfortunately, his father's a bishop and he has an uncle who sits in parliament for the Tories." "Is there a chance to have him removed?" Tony asked, emboldened now. "Let's wait for his excuses. Sir Charles will demand to have him recalled, but there will be no avail. To recall a rear-admiral within four months would mean an embarrassment for their Lordships. No, we have to find a way to employ him, damn his eyes!" Tony sighed. "We'll have problems with the next landing operations. The men know we were left behind." "That is to be expected. You performed well, though, against a tenfold superior force. The French lost quite a number of men." Tony shook his head. "Just by having them march for a few days, they would incur almost as many losses, and at a far smaller expense for us." Barlow spoke up. "Did you know that Keller's grandfather was killed by the Inquisition? His hatred of all Papists is great. Maybe, that's why he's trying to bring about real fighting?" Paynter nodded. "That's worth a thought. I doubt that Sir Charles knows this." "He should lead the landing force himself, then," Tony suggested with a grim smile. "God beware! We cannot afford to lose a half-batallion of marines." By midmorning of the next day, Keller's squadron came in sight. Almost immediately, flags rose on Neptune's halliards, calling for Keller to report. The ships fell in with Cotton's squadron, and Tony saw Keller's barge head for the flagship. Tony was told by Paynter to remain in the flagship, and he was standing on the quarterdeck with Barlow when the rear-admiral entered through the port. It was a satisfying moment to see Keller stare at him goggle-eyed, but Paynter quickly ushered him aft, to Cotton's day cabin. For the next hour, nothing happened. Only once could they hear Sir Charles Cotton's voice. "I'll curse as much as I want in my flagship, damn you!" Save for this outburst, nothing could be overheard for another half hour. Then, a signal was made for all captains to convene in the flagship. Advised of Tony's presence in the Neptune, Dougherty did not come, but he sent the gig. It was good to see John Little again who looked Tony over like a worried mother. The atmosphere in Cotton's day cabin was strained from the start. Keller sat at Cotton's side, his face red as a tomato. He gave Tony a vitriolic glare which Tony returned with a cold nod. For once, he did not care about a superior's feelings or opinion. When Cotton started to speak, Tony studiously ignored Keller. "Gentlemen, thank you for coming. As most of you know already, we had to evacuate the landing force from San Augustin. The French had shown up in division strength, and in spite of the exemplary defence organised by Captain Carter and Major Applethorn, they were in the process of overrunning our positions. As I have already made clear," here, Cotton looked pointedly at Keller, "this was far too close for comfort. Our marines are not expendable, and they will be needed in the future for more important operations. This time, we were lucky. The next time, we will be prepared instead. Once we land our men, the squadron backing the operation will remain in the offing and maintain regular contact. Let me be clear about this: even if a Spanish treasure galleon sails past, you will maintain your position. When the weather dictates to leave a lee coast, the marines will be re-embarked first." The eyes of the captains rested on Keller now who sat hunched in his chair, blushing furiously, both with embarrassment and anger. Again, he cast angry stares at Tony. "Any comments, Sir Winston?" Cotton asked pointedly. "Wha ... Yes, certainly. With all due respect, Sir Charles, I believe that Sir Anthony made too much of the so-called superior French forces. The landing force was never in any danger." "Sir Anthony?" Cotton asked gently, but with a noticeable smirk. "Also, with all due respect, Sir Winston, my assessment was correct. As for your opinion, Sir, it was made from a distance of over a hundred leagues and thus hardly informed. General Chambon commanded a full division, five thousand men to our five hundred. We had one in ten casualties already, and most of our guns were incapacitated by the French siege guns. According to Major Applethorn's assessment which I share, they would have overrun us by yesterday while you were out at sea practising evolutions." "I'll not have you talk to me like this, Captain!" Keller snarled. "I was speaking on Sir Charles behest, Sir Winston," Tony returned with as much equanimity as possible. "Gentlemen, I beg of you!" Sir Charles interfered. "We are here to learn from the experience. Sir Anthony, I asked your opinion on how we shall conduct future landing operations." "Very well, Sir Charles," Tony answered with all the calmness he could muster. "Firstly, it would seem that we need better armament and more gun crews. The French could quickly silence our few guns, most of which were of light calibre anyway. Secondly, given the overall aim to tire the French out, we should re-embark at the first sign of superior forces appearing. Having the Frogs march to and fro will cause them losses enough, and over time, their responses will become slower and weaker. This, in turn, will ease the landing of a true expedition force once the time comes for that." "I must really wonder, Captain!" Keller sneered. "What officer will withdraw at the first sign of an enemy?" "Only one with a grasp of the strategy, Sir," Captain Masters blurted. All eyes turned to him, but he looked back defiantly. "I hear the landing force had a hard time fending off the French. I would gladly trade places with any of them, though, rather than practising pointless manoeuvres, knowing our men to be without support." "Captain, I believe you are out of line," Sir Charles stated with calm emphasis. "I understand the sentiment, but you will not question or second-guess the orders you receive. I believe we should all learn from this near-fiasco. It will not be repeated. You may return to your ships now." They left Neptune in the order of seniority, with Keller first. Before he stepped through he port, he fixated his captains with an angry stare. "We shall sail with daybreak. Sir Charles has given us our next target. At least, try to do your duty!" With that, he stepped down into his barge, leaving his captains steaming with anger. Masters controlled himself the quickest. "I guess we'll do some more evolutions on the way. At least, the squadron will look sharp while our marines are shot to pieces on the land." ------- "Captain Carter will command the landing force. Once the town is taken, he will return to Asia. After all, we should not run afoul of the regulations," Keller said snidely. "Major Applethorn will hold the place until the Spanish show in force. Then, the marines will be evacuated. The squadron will stay close to the land." He turned to his secretary. "Are you ready with that map?" "Yes, Sir Winston," the young priest answered, clearly ill at ease. Tony focussed on the map laid before them. It seemed brand-new and not at all like the well-worn charts coming from the Admiralty. It looked a bit odd. "As you can see, this beach is shallow and sandy, perfect for the landing. The next battery is across from the mouth of the river, here. You will give the battery a wide berth while making your way to the beach. Once landed, the marines will march up this gorge to win the top of the cliffs. From there, you can easily move on the town. Any questions?" Tony could not point at what was bothering him. "Sir, is that map current?" "Well, it's obviously new. Why?" "It just seems odd that the Dons have no battery protecting the other side of the estuary." "Well, let us be grateful, then, for their consideration," Keller answered cheerily. "Sir, it would seem that you do not trust me with such an operation," Masters complained. "Nothing personal, Captain. If it satisfies your ambition, you may command the next landing," Keller smiled. This bothered Tony even more. Keller seemed like another man today. He was friendly, considerate, and cheery. Something was fishy. They were closing in on another small harbour, Punta Caimán on the Isla Cristina peninsula. There was a battery on the small Isla Moral, covering the inlet west of the town, but the beach to the east was apparently unprotected. The place seemed well-chosen to Tony. Once they captured it, the Spanish would have to march along a narrow sand spit for recapture, in range of the squadron's guns. "No more questions, gentlemen? Splendid. Let us pray for success, then." Tony almost groaned. The young priest seemed upset and distracted, though, repeatedly stumbling over his words, and he cut his normally lengthy prayer short. In short order, the captains returned to their ships to start the preparations. This was Tony's third landing, and it was almost routine by now. They would be right on time, too, this time since they had sighted Punta Umbria before dusk set in. Given their estimated speed, they would be off Punta Caimán at daybreak. Tony slept well for six hours and six bells in the Morning Watch saw him dressed and ready on his quarterdeck, giving Dougherty one last set of orders. The sky to the east showed a weak light when the boats were lowered and squadron hove to. Once again, Tony took the launch and he watched as the boats assembled. Once the first wave was ready, the men took the oars and the boats began their run for the beach. The distance to the beach was half a mile, but the rested boat crews made good speed, and soon, Tony could see the lay of the land in the faint light of dawn. A spot of red caught his eyes, but it was gone immediately. A sentry? But why keep a sentry on an empty sand spit? Perhaps it was his uneasiness from the day before, perhaps it was just his cautious nature. Tony raised the glass to his eyes and studied the spot where he had seen the speck of red. The light was still weak, but it was getting brighter. There! Another speck of red, and now, a flash of sunlight reflected on metal. What was that? There were regular depressions in the silhouette of the dune ahead. It took Tony's brain ten or twenty precious seconds to grasp the meaning of this, but then everything was clear. There was a battery ahead, and they were rowing right into the teeth of it. In an instant, Tony stood on the stern sheets. "Avast pulling!" he shouted. "Avast pulling. Go about and return to the ships! Now!" The midshipman at the tiller was obeying already, and Tony nearly fell over when the starboard side oars held the water, making the launch turn to starboard. The other boats followed suite, the crews pulling madly on the oars to turn the heavy craft. Just then, the stillness of the morning was torn by the whine of round shot flying over their heads and raising water fountains between the boats, with the bellow of guns shattering their ears simultaneously. The battery had opened fire. "Pull, you lubbers!" the midshipman at the tiller screeched, his voice breaking with fear and excitement. The boat was already making good way, and as far as Tony saw, the other boats were unscathed, too. He looked over his shoulder at the battery. It was well overgrown with bushes; it could not be a recent construction therefore. Why was it not charted? And then, just as he saw smoke billow from the guns, he knew the answer. The new chart, the uneasiness of Keller's secretary, Keller's false cheeriness. The chart was an incomplete copy, drawn to lure Tony and his landing force into the range of that battery. Keller had planned this, to kill him. All this passed through Tony's brain in the split second before a twenty four-pounder ball smashed into the stern of the launch. Tony felt a sharp pain in his left foot as he was hurled into the air. He landed in the cold water. His foot hurt madly as he tried to keep his head above the water, in spite of the pistols and sword dragging him down. Around him, more men were fighting for their lives, encumbered by their uniforms and weapons. Fortunately, the other boats were close and soon, the first survivors were dragged from the water, while the boat crews looked over their shoulders, anxiously awaiting the next salvo. Tony waited his turn, slowly getting numb in the cold water. He was at the end of his strength when the Asia's cutter finally took him in. They had to lift him on deck, and he was so cold that he did not even feel his foot anymore. For a moment he woke from his cold stupor and frantically looked for his left foot. It was still there, but it hurt terribly. There was Jonathan, thank God! "Have you been hurt, Sir?" he asked. "M-my l-l-left f-foot," Tony answered with chattering teeth. Then he was in his cabin, naked and wrapped in wool blankets. He had been dimly aware of Jonathan cutting off the expensive boots, and when the blood returned to his legs and arms, the pain lanced through the left foot again. Jonathan was puttering around, and then something delightfully cool was wrapped around the hurting foot. "I've put a vinegar poultice around your foot, Sir. It's badly bruised at the least. I can't say more until the swelling goes back. You must rest, Sir." "Jonathan, that swine sent us against the guns!" Tony managed to say. "He had the chart redrawn, without the battery, to lure us into their range. Keller is a traitor!" "Easy now, Sir Anthony," Jonathan tried to soothe his captain. "I guess I better give you a dose of laudanum. You must rest now." Neither Tony nor Jonathan Wilkes noticed the sudden change in John Little's bearing. One moment, he was fussing around his hurt captain, the next moment, he was calm and determined. Under them, the main deck and upper deck batteries roared out and gun smoked drifted up through the deck planks as Asia punished the Spanish shore battery, along with the rest of the squadron. Under the impact of the laudanum and his own exhaustion, Tony fell asleep even in the din of the battle, and he never woke before the next morning. ------- Chapter 14: Leaving the Shadow Before John Little became John Little, he had once been Ole'jia, the nephew and heir presumptive of the Oba of Oké, the ruler of what was called Lagos by Portuguese slave traders in what is now Nigeria. Ole'jia was a warrior and at twenty-two years, the right hand of his uncle. He had dealt with the Portuguese slavers before; he knew them and distrusted them. Nevertheless, it was a Portuguese, one Joao do Pinto, who warned him of his uncle's treason. Young Ole'jia had become too popular both with the Awori people and with the warriors, and his uncle feared him. Thus, the ruler conspired with some of the slavers to have his nephew seized and shipped to Brazil. Learning of the treason, Ole'jia confronted his uncle. In the heated argument, the elder man stabbed at Ole'jia who responded with a jab with his own spear, killing the traitorous ruler. The guard was loyal to the Oba, and they chased Ole'jia through Oké for three days before he could steal a small boat and escape to the sea where he would be picked up by the Medusa, entering his new life as John Little. From that time, Ole'jia or John Little still held a deep-sitting grudge against traitorous rulers. To John Little, the Navy had become his people, and the Asia was his tribe. His tribal chief had been betrayed by the ruler, Admiral Keller, and it was time to set things right. The squadron had hove-to, after bringing some distance between the ships and the shore, and the wounded and cold men were tended. Lt. Dougherty, standing in for his captain, had been rowed to the flagship, and John Little had insisted on commanding the gig. To his satisfaction, the Malta was a spitting image of the Asia. Even the lay of the cabins seemed to be identical. The gig was made fast on the leeward side of the flagship, and John Little climbed aboard pretending to have a message for the Malta's purser. Captain's coxswains were always regarded as trustworthy, and John Little was able to make his way to the wardroom which he did not enter. Instead, he climbed to the upper deck through the aft hatchway, getting a good glimpse of the lay of Keller's cabin. He noted that Keller had his privy to port, much like it was in the Asia's admiral's cabin. John Little also noted the sentry and the lay of the other cabins, for the secretary, the steward and the Admiral's coxswain. Nodding with satisfaction, John Little returned to the gig and waited until Lt. Dougherty called for it. The ships remained hove-to and from what he overheard Lt. Dougherty talking to Lt. Chalke, there had been angry cussing between Admiral Keller and Captain Masters. It seemed that Admiral Keller would demand a court-martial against the Captain for insubordination. John Little smiled to himself. Masters had been a good man, back in the Medusa, and he would enjoy to help him out of his predicament. Soon, the night fell, and John Little began his preparations. Luck was with him. Eric Johnsen was watch free, and Eric admired Captain Carter more than anyone else, save for John Little himself. Johnsen was clearly worried, but he agreed to help. Once the darkness fell, John disrobed and greased his tall, ebony body generously. The Malta was lying hove-to less than half a cable length to windward, and slightly ahead of Asia. Eric Johnsen helped John lower himself from a lower deck gun port into the cold, black water. Staying mostly submerged, John swam for the Malta's stern. The biting cold nearly paralysed him towards the end, but he managed to get a hold of the stern ornaments and to lift himself from the water. Willing away the cold, he climbed up, using the decorations as hold. He evaded the windows of the wardroom, climbing up at the very edge between stern and side, and making his way up to the Admiral's privy. Fortunately, the privy was well-cleaned, and John was able to squeeze his sinewy body through the hole in the privy seat. His bare feet hardly made a sound as he glided towards Keller's sleep chamber. He could hear soft snoring from the inside and he smelled stale wine. Good. Keller had imbibed on wine. John Little's disdain for the man went up a notch. Noiselessly, he opened the door and bent over the snoring man. Taking a deep breath, he closed his strong hands around the scrawny neck. His thumbs pressed inward, effectively crushing Keller's larynx. The man struggled shortly and ineffectively, but then the stench of urine and defecation told John Little that it was over. He opened the door cautiously, but nobody was outside. The sentry was on the other side of the bulkhead that separated the upper deck from the Admiral's quarters. Turning, John Little lifted the lifeless body over his shoulder and carried him to the privy. There, he bound the twelve foot length of rope around Keller's chest and lowered the scrawny body through the hole in the privy seat and down to water level. The rope was barely long enough, but John managed to keep the end in his hand before he himself lowered himself through the hole and climbed down into the water. The next three or four minutes were a struggle for survival, human will against the cold of the water. The night was moonless, and John Little was able to drag Keller's body away from the Malta and towards the Asia. He was barely conscious when he reached the gunport again, and Eric Johnsen had to help him up and through the port. Johnsen had a net with a thirty-two-pounder roundshot ready which they tied to the rope around Keller's chest. Then, Johnsen let the roundshot slip into the water, and the weight pulled the dead admiral's body down towards the bottom, fifteen fathoms below. By now, John Little was shivering uncontrollably from the cold and the exhaustion, but Eric Johnsen helped him to his small private cabin where he rolled into his blankets until he finally warmed up. He smiled as sleep claimed him. Once again, Ole'jia of the Awori had struck down a traitor. ------- Tony awoke from his laudanum-induced sleep and looked up to the deck planks above his head. His seaman's sense automatically picked up the information that his ship was hove-to, riding what seemed to be short, choppy waves in a lively breeze. Protected waters. He tried to move but the pain that shot into his left foot made him wince. His movement was noticed, though, and Grimes stuck his head in. "Good morning, Sir. I'll call Doctor Wilkes right away." He was gone, but only a few minutes later, Jonathan Wilkes showed. "Good morning, Anthony. Did you sleep at all?" "Surprisingly, I did. What's with my foot, Jonathan? Tell me the truth." "The truth is, I don't know yet. It was too swollen yesterday to examine it. Let's have a look then." The poultice was removed and Tony had his first look. The foot, from ankle to toes was a blue, swollen mass. Jonathan probed and pressed here and there, eliciting sharp intakes of breath from Tony. "Can you remember what happened?" "The ball hit the launch below the stern sheets, and I was thrown into the air." "I see. Your foot must have been hit by a board. It may be just bruised or broken. You have to lie absolutely still until the swelling subsides completely. Dougherty was called to the flagship, by the way. Something is brewing over there." "Well, whatever it is, it has to brew without me," Tony answered. "It's better that way. I don't think I could face Keller and not run him through." "Did you mean what you said, about Keller sending you knowingly against that battery?" "I can never prove it," Tony sighed. "He'll claim the chart was faulty, and the flag officers will close ranks. I have to think. He seems hell-bent to see me dead, or else, he is a colossal ass. Either way, I must get out of his reach. This foot may give me an excuse to give up the command." "You're not serious?" "I don't know, Jonathan. I have a wife and children. I want to see my son growing up. I want to be with Harriet. There is so little left for me to prove in my profession and so much to miss with my family." "You must think of your officers and crew. They need you." "Jonathan, had that ball hit the launch just a foot higher, they would have to get by without me anyway." "Well, think well about it before you make a rash decision. That's all I'm asking." "I will. Thank you for caring, Jonathan. What's the butcher's bill, anyway?" "We lost five men in your launch. Able seaman Flint got a belly full of wood splinters, Corporal Reilly lost his leg and bled out before they could get him here, and three of the marines drowned. Midshipman Wallace had his arm broken by the tiller. That cannon ball must have hit the rudder. It's a clean break, and it should heal well. It could have been worse." "I guess it could," Tony sighed. John Little came next, and he looked the worse for wear. Even with his dark skin, Tony could see dark rings under his eyes. "Bad night?" he asked Little. "Didn't sleep much, Sir," Little answered. "Your breakfast is ready. Let me help you sit up." With two cushions in his back, Tony could sit in the cot and eat his breakfast. Grimes had gone into the stores. There were two fried eggs with bacon, with potato hash, and a large jug of freshly brewed coffee. After breakfast, Jonathan was back to fit splints around Tony's ankle. The carpenter had fitted him a crutch, too, and this allowed Tony to visit his privy for some urgent business. With help from John Little, he was able to throw on some clothes and sit on the upholstered bench at the stern windows, with his left leg propped up. It was there where Lt. Dougherty found him. "Good morning, Sir Anthony. I bring bad news. I just came back from the Malta. It seems that Sir Winston disappeared during the night. Captain Shields called us this morning, and we spent the last hour going through Admiral Keller's cabin. We ... We made a disturbing discovery, Sir. May I allow Captain Shields in, Sir? He can explain our findings." Tony shrugged. The news were surprising, but hardly disturbing to him. If only Keller stayed missing, all was well. Shields came in, his face showing deep worry. "Good morning, Sir Anthony. I hope you are recovering?" "We'll have to wait. The foot may well be broken, but it's too early to tell." "Let us hope not, of course. Sir Anthony, as you may have heard, Sir Winston disappeared from his cabin during the night. His steward left him, shortly before midnight, but this morning, he was gone. His bed is soiled, and it seems he visited his privy, but there is no trace of him in the entire ship." "Were the windows latched?" Tony asked. "Yes, everyone of them. The sentries swear he did not leave his cabin. We searched the entire ship, too, but he has vanished." "That is indeed strange, Sir. I am afraid I cannot be of much help, though. Doctor Wilkes gave me a heavy dose of laudanum yesterday, and I never woke before this morning." "Yes, of course, Sir Anthony. Nobody would think you'd have a hand in it anyway. No, the reason for my coming is that while searching Sir Winston's cabin for clues, we found his diary. I shall have to hand it over to Sir Charles. It explains some of the happenings of the lest weeks. It ... It would seem that Sir Winston was deeply infatuated by the Lady Carter. He ... He wrote poems about her at first, but then his thoughts turned towards, well, towards getting you - err - removed. It would seem that he exposed you to dangers on purpose, in the hope of winning your widow in the aftermath." "Are you jesting?" Tony replied incredulously. "No, I'm afraid not. Not that there is anything that even hints at your wife knowing of this." "May I see this diary, Sir?" "Of course. Here, you have one very revealing passage," Shields pointed out. Tony's eyes flew over Keller's handwriting. 'Carter must be in liege with Satan. Survived again. Cotton is angry. Must find another way. I dreamt of Harriet again, of her soft arms. She will come to me for help after Carter is dead. She will be better off with me. I will bring the Lord's word back into her life and help her find pure, untainted love. Wescott is weak, he refuses to redraw the charts. He'll bow to pressure, I'm sure, and then Carter will be gone.' Tony looked up, shaking his head. "Is he mad?" he asked Shields. "As a hatter," the captain confirmed grimly. "He better be dead, too, for I shall show this to Sir Charles Cotton. Keller knew of the battery on the beach. Here is another clue." Shields held Keller's bible, and there was a page marked from the Book of David. It was the story of Uriah the Hittite. Tony shook his head again. "Who played Jaob?" "Wescott, of course. I placed him under arrest. Sir Charles can deal with him, and that'll be the last prayer ever in my ship." Tony's thoughts had gone further, and he had a worry. "Sir, if possible, I would like to keep my wife's name out of this. She'll be devastated to hear that she was the unwitting focus of Keller's obsession." "I had not thought of that, but of course, we should keep her good name out of this sordid affair. I imagine Sir Charles will want to keep this under wrap anyway. So far, only Captain Masters, Mr. Dougherty and I saw this, and we shall keep quiet." "I appreciate your discretion, Sir. With last year's duel, my wife is quite sensitive to such matters." "Say nothing more, Sir Anthony. We had better find Sir Charles now, to get new orders. I fear I'll have some explaining to do. I don't think any flag captain ever lost his admiral." Suddenly, Shields' eyes grew wide. "What if he tried to swim over to Asia, to finish you? I mean, look at this diary. He's a nutter if ever there was one. With you wounded, he could not send you into harm's way anymore. And with the water as cold as it is, he would have never made it." "I don't know, Sir, how would he have come aboard?" Dougherty said thoughtfully. "The lower deck was packed with sleepers, and the gun ports were closed." "There is still the question how he left his cabin, Sir," Tony added. Shields snapped his fingers. "The privy. It's the only way to get out unless he had an accomplice to latch the windows after him." The thought made Tony smile. "You are not planning to offer this explanation to Sir Charles? An admiral squeezing himself through a latrine seat to go and kill a captain?" Shields shrugged. "His last traces were in his privy. I must offer an explanation, and this one is a good as any other we came up with. Also, nobody else is to blame, that way." Shields left then, leaving a slightly amused Tony behind. At least, they were rid of this lunatic. Dougherty smiled, too. "Any orders, Sir?" "Carry on, Mr. Dougherty. Keep me apprised of any news." A half hour later, the squadron set sails and followed a westward course where they could expect the main squadron under Sir Charles Cotton. Tony stayed in his day cabin, moving through the accumulated paperwork, including the report of yesterday's failed landing operation. He kept the report neutral, only writing that they came under fire from a well-hidden, uncharted battery. He made no mention of the redrawn chart, guessing that Sir Charles would want to hush the entire affair up. Twice that day, the poultice was changed, and by evening, the swelling was down quite a bit. Jonathan Wilkes probed the foot once again and pronounced that there was no evidence of broken bones. Resting the foot was the fastest way of healing, and thus, the splints were re-attached. Tony needed no laudanum that evening, but Jonathan brought him a willow bark tea as mild pain reliever, and Tony slept well through the night. With daybreak, they sighted Sir Charles Cotton's squadron, and Dougherty reported that Captain Shields had been rowed to the Neptune. An hour later, a boat came from the flagship, with a letter from Sir Charles for Tony. 'HMS Neptune, off Cape Sagres, February 15, AD 1808 To Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., Captain R.N. My dear Sir Anthony, given the need to discuss the events around the unfortunate disappearance of Sir Winston Keller, and given your current incapacitation, I would ask that the captains concerned with the matter and myself convene in your ship. I ask you to excuse the presumptive nature of my request. If you are in agreement, kindly have "Yes" signalled. Your obedient servant Sir Charles Cotton, K.B., Vice-admiral of the Red Tony folded the short letter and looked about. "Mr. Little, Grimes!" he bellowed. Both showed within seconds. "Grimes, we shall shortly have, let's see, the Admiral and six captains visiting. Add two or three other officers. Set the table and roust the cook and all help you may need. Mr. Little, fetch six bottles of the Bordeaux wine from my hold, and some of my private biscuit. Cheese, too. No time to prepare a roast, but we should have plenty of cold cuts left." Tony had eaten with his officers, three days before, and the roast meat kept well in the cold weather. "Send for Mr. Dougherty, too." When Dougherty came, Tony let him read the short note and asked him to have the "Yes" signal hoisted. A little later, Sir Charles signalled the captains to convene in Asia at two bells in the Afternoon Watch. That left the stewards another hour for their preparations. The table was laid with the best food they could find on short notice, including a deliciously smelling smoked ham from which thin slices were shaved. In spite of Jonathan's protests, Tony received Sir Charles at the port, leaning on his crutches and getting a reprimand for his troubles. On Sir Charles' orders, he had to receive the other captains in his cabin. It was the first time that Tony entertained his fellow captains and Sir Charles, and they found the food and drink very much to their liking. After tasting the Bordeaux wine, Captain Masters smacked his lips. "Now this is real wine, not the rotgut that Keller had us drink." "Captain, please," Captain Paynter admonished. "No, Sir, he is right. I had to stomach it time and again," Captain Shields came to Master's aid, causing subdued chuckle around the table. "I presume you found that wine when Asia served as customs cutter in the Irish Sea?" Sir Charles asked with a smile. "No, Sir Charles. We found some excellent brandy, but never any wine worth mentioning. I bought it at auction in Portsmouth when we commissioned." "Well, to Sir Anthony's well-filled cellars!" Sir Charles toasted, causing approval around the table. "Now, gentlemen, let us close the deplorable affair of Rear-admiral Keller. You are all acquainted with the facts, I presume?" There were nods all around. "Captain Shields has discovered certain documents which I shall not delve into, to protect the reputation of innocent people. Suffice to say, poor Sir Winston must have suffered from severe delusions." "Mad as a hatter!" Masters confirmed in a low voice. "Yes, indeed. His delusions somehow prompted him to target our host, Sir Anthony, aiming to have him killed. The sorry affair at San Augustin is perfectly clear now. The attack on Punta de Caimán was the piece de resistance. The charts were falsified, leaving out vital information on the placement of a battery. We owe it to Sir Anthony's keen alertness that we did not lose the entire landing force." "Hear, hear," a chorus of voices came up. "Sir Winston disappeared from his cabin during the night after the attack on Punta de Caimán. We have no solid knowledge of how he disappeared, but from the traces Captain Shields has found, it would seem that no foul play was involved. We have to assume that Sir Winston left the ship during the night. Since no boats were launched, he must have tried to swim somewhere. Given how cold the water is in winter, we can safely assume that he drowned. "Any further speculation is pointless. Sir Winston left the ship in a state of benightedness and drowned. As for his secretary, I shall convene a court-martial this afternoon. He already confessed to falsifying the charts. The court-martial will come to an appropriate verdict, I am sure. "Gentlemen, nothing can be gained if this sorry affair is reported outside this squadron. I hear that Sir Anthony asks for discretion, too. May I assume that you will keep all this to yourself?" Heads nodded around the table. "Very well, gentlemen. Are there further questions or comments?" "Shall we continue our landing operations, Sir Charles?" Masters asked. "Yes, indeed, Captain. While it may be a while before Sir Anthony will set foot on Spanish soil again, there is no reason to discontinue our strategy of attrition. We shall reduce the size of the detached squadron slightly by asking Captain Shields to remain with the main force. For the time being, Captain Masters will direct the land operations, until such time when a successor to Sir Winston will be named." Tony avoided to look at Shields. Obviously, Sir Charles did not like it that an admiral vanished into the blue from his cabin, and when all was said and done, he had disappeared on Shields' watch. "Sir Charles, with Sir Anthony wounded and with me in charge of the detached ships, there is no captain to command the landing force." "Major Applethorn has proven to be very capable, Sir," Tony interceded on behalf of his former loyal second-in-command. "Still, a force of over five hundred and with gun crews from the ships should not be commanded by a major," Captain Paynter commented. Sir Charles sighed and closed his eyes, obviously thinking the situation over. When he opened them, he looked at Tony quizzically. "What does your surgeon say, Sir Anthony? When will your foot be healed?" "Doctor Wilkes has not formed an opinion yet. He is guardedly optimistic that nothing is broken. Two weeks, perhaps three?" Sir Charles nodded. "I can spare Captain Paynter for a few weeks. He will sail in Warspite and command the detached ships as second class commodore. Will that be agreeable to you gentlemen?" It was a sensible decision and they nodded. "Very well, this issue being resolved, let us see what Sir Anthony has in store for us in the way of brandies." Grimes appeared with bottles of French Brandy, fine Jamaican Rum, and Port Wine. The captains indulged their respective tastes and toasted the King. Masters spoke up afterwards. "That rum is from Trevelyon's Plantation, right?" Tone nodded. "Yes, I found a cask with a Bridgetown merchant. I'm not overly enamoured with rum, but this is fine quality." Masters gazed at the amber liquid. "It was my favourite, when we served in the West Indian Squadron. That reminds me, whatever happened to your lovely housekeeper?" Tony made a sad face. "The Yellow Jack got her. First her husband, and while she cared for him, she caught it, too. I have taken in her little daughter." "What a shame. She certainly was a lovely woman. Those were fine times, in the old Medusa, under Fanning. We learned so much from him!" "Aye, and he's still the same daredevil." "Yes, there is rumours he had you sail through Menai Strait? Good God!" "Well, we were quite lucky to make it, but the tide favoured us." "What tide?" Captain Shields cut in. "There's three or four of them in Menai Strait. I patrolled it once, before the war, in a customs lugger. You sailed this ship through? Good God!" "It was a great risk, but the results were worth it, I heard," Sir Charles Cotton spoke calmly. "He received his knighthood, after Christmas, by the way." That was good news, and the captains toasted Rear-admiral Fanning. After that, the meeting broke up. Tony wanted to see his guests off, but Cotton would have none of it. Thus, it was Dougherty who had that honour. Come the evening, a boat from Warspite came with orders from Paynter. The detached ships, Warspite, Asia, York, and Gwendoline would leave the squadron with the first light. Their next target was Sesimbra, a fishing village south of Lisbon. Its natural harbour was protected by two forts, the Forte do Cavalo and the Fortaleza de Santiago, but according to intelligence from Portuguese patriots, the French kept only a small force there, less than two hundred men. It took the ships a full day and night to reach the destination. Tony remained in his cabin most of the time, leaving the sailing of the ship to Dougherty, but when they made land, at daybreak, he was on the quarterdeck with his crutches, overseeing the disembarkation of the marines. A smaller detachment of marines and seamen from Asia and Gwendoline, under Major Applethorn, targeted the smaller Forte do Cavalo, while Captain Masters led the main force attacking the village with the large fort. It was unnerving to stand on the deck and watch the boats creeping towards the beach. Both forts opened fire on the boats, and the two ships of the line fired a few broadsides at the land batteries, slowing their fire and damaging the breastworks. It was a nerve-wrecking hour for Tony, but then Applethorn had the Union Jack hoisted over the Forte do Cavalo, and another half hour later, the same thing happened over the larger Fortaleza de Santiago. More soldiers and crews were landed, together with supplies, and the returning boats brought the dead and wounded. This landing had been more costly, with three dead and fourteen wounded, but they had also captured over seventy French soldiers who were also ferried out to the ships. Here, in the small harbour, the ships could anchor. This was an opportunity for some repairs, keeping the ships' crews busy while the landing force waited for the French to approach. Lisbon was only twenty miles to the north, but the French would have to ferry soldiers across the Tagus river to Almada, in order to advance on Sesimbra. Thus, when Portuguese informants reported that the French were assembling boats for a crossing of the estuary, Asia was ordered to weigh anchor. By this time, Tony was able walk with a simple cane, and he commanded his ship when she, after just four hours sailing, entered the Tagus estuary. From the Torre de Belem, the French fired at them, but since the battery at Caparica had been dismantled by the retreating Portuguese, the Asia could steer along the southern shore, receiving only one hit. Further inland, flat-bottomed boats were already ferrying soldiers and supplies across the Tagus river, with more of the boats being loaded on the Lisbon side. Four lighters with troops surrendered under the threat of Asia's guns and two which were already close to the southern shore were sunk by the upper deck guns. With the lighters seized, Tony had the Asia then go about and cross the river. Sailing slowly past the waterfront of Lisbon at less than double pistol shot range, the Asia's guns obliterated the small flotilla of lighters and launches that the French had assembled. It was Dougherty who alerted Tony to a ship-rigged vessel a half mile upriver and flying the French Tricolore. Coming closer, they recognised her for a corvette, a flush-decked, ship-rigged sloop of war. She was lying at anchor in mid-river, with little more than an anchor watch, Tony could see. Even those two dozen men tumbled down into their boats and made for the shore. "Mr. Dougherty, take the side boats and take possession of her. Take a gunner's mate with you and have him inspect her magazine for burning fuses. Slip her anchor and follow us out. You had best stay in fire lee, too." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Dougherty snapped eagerly. "And Mr. Dougherty," Tony added under his breath, "you'll sail her into Gibraltar, on my word." "Aye-aye, Sir, and thank you!" Bringing in a sizeable prize was one of the best ways to gain an independent command, and Dougherty had more than earned a promotion. Now he quickly assembled a prize crew and took the side boats. Five minutes after boarding the sloop, Dougherty had the anchor slipped, and his men set the topsails. Shadowing the ponderous line of battle ship, the corvette made her way downriver. They came under fire again from the ancient tower, but as planned, the French gunners could only aim at Asia, and the two hits they scored hardly made an impression on her massive planking. The tower was ancient, and so was its armament. They met with the captured lighters, and over two-hundred French soldiers were disarmed and confined under the decks. Over £1,000 head money and at least £6,000 for the captured sloop were theirs, and two eighths of that money would be Tony's. "It seems we're a lucky ship again," Jonathan Wilkes commented, standing with a group of wardroom members on the lee side of the quarterdeck. They would share in another eighth, £175 for each of them; a year's pay in one swoop. Tony nodded to himself. Yes, his foot still hurt badly, but Keller's shadow was already lifting from the Asia. ------- Chapter 15: Bearding the French The sky over Gibraltar was overcast, but the sight of the harbour was welcome nonetheless. The four ships with their eight prizes - three brigs with cargo had been captured off Sesimbra - crept into the anchorage, keeping a wary eye on Algeciras all the time. This last landing had been a resounding success. More than that, it was well executed, too. Paynter had shown to be an able commodore, and he had the landing force reembark in time to avoid a confrontation with the arriving French. They had lost three dead and fifteen wounded during the initial fighting, but the French had lost infinitely more in their thwarted crossing of the Tagus River. Paynter had decided to put the ships into Gibraltar. They had too many prizes and too many prisoners to start a new landing. The curse of a successful raid, he had smilingly told them. When the bustle of landing the prisoners ended three hours later, and the men-of-war were taking fresh water and provisions, Paynter informed them of his plan to have the ships refitted for a few days. Thus, after giving Lt. Laughton, the acting Nº1, orders for revictualling, Tony had himself rowed to the shore. As he had hoped, he spotted Harriet's red hair on the quay, where she stood with the children and Jenny Johnsen. He still had pain in his left foot, and it showed as he limped up on the quay and towards his family. Harriet was in his arms in a heartbeat. "What happened, my dearest?" she inquired, her face still buried in his chest. "It's a badly sprained and bruised foot, nothing more," he assured her immediately while enjoying her closeness and smell. "How did that happen?" Harriet asked next, holding him at distance and looking into his eyes. "A round shot hit the launch, and a floor board smashed against my foot. It was a botched-up landing operation. We got out of it with minimal losses, though." Harriet was trembling in his arms. "A cannon shot hit your boat?" "I'll tell you about it when we have more privacy," Tony whispered quickly. Being quick of mind, Harriet caught on and nodded. "More trouble with Keller?" she whispered back. "Oh yes, but that's over. I promise, I'll tell you later. See the prizes? I'll clear over £2,000 from them. How's that for a good news?" Harriet shook her head. "I much rather see you back without harm." She took a breath and put on a smile, a genuine one. "Speaking of a good news, I'm with child again." Without regard of the people surrounding them, Tony held her tight and kissed her tenderly. "You make me so happy, my darling wife!" he exhaled after the kiss ended. Harriet beamed up at her husband. "That feeling is mutual, Tony. I'm so happy, I could dance all day. What do you wish for, a boy or a girl?" Tony shook his head, a blissful smile on his face. "I don't care a whit. If only you and the child are healthy, there is nothing more to wish for." The walk to the rented house taxed Tony's endurance, and it was with a relieved sigh that he sank into an upholstered chair. Jonathan would come to shore later, after the transfer of the wounded to the shore infirmary, but Lucy, summoned by Harriet, soon had a look at the bruised foot. It was not a pretty sight, Tony had to concede, but Lucy never flinched when she wrapped it into a vinegar-drenched cloth for cooling. Then, after Harriet had arranged the supper, he told her all about the two messy landings under Keller's command, about Keller's fortuitous disappearance, and their change of luck under Captain Paynter. Harriet shook her head. "Why would he try to have you killed?" "Perhaps, he was connected to the spy network we uncovered in Ireland," Tony hazarded, lying for the first time to protect Harriet's feelings. He saw a fleeting grin on John Little's face. John Little, of course, knew of Keller's real motives, but Tony had already sworn his coxswain to secrecy. Tony decided to switch topics. "So my darling, do you have any names picked for the child already?" Harriet gave him a look with raised eyebrows, telling him she was looking through his diversion. She smiled impishly. "We named Richard after my father. If it's a girl, we should name her after your mother." Tony laughed. "You are crafty, my dear." His mother's name had been Leonora, Eleanor in English, the same name as Harriet's mother. "Coincidence, my dear, pure coincidence. What if the child is a boy?" "We could ask Jonathan or Captain Masters to be godfathers. Jonathan or Jeremy, in other words." "You could ask Sir Charles." Harriet put in. Tony made a face. "I could, but I'd rather not. Sir Charles seems to be very averse to anything resembling nepotism, and this would be something akin to asking for patronage." "I did not know that. If I have a say in it, I would prefer Jonathan. If something were to happen to us, it would be Lucy who would help my mother take care of the boy. I could not dream of a better person for that." Tony nodded. The thought had come to him, too. "We'll ask Jonathan if the child is a boy." Jonathan came right on time for the supper, and afterwards it was Lucy's turn for some time alone with her husband. Tony and Harriet retreated early, too, but they just lay holding each other as Tony felt too awkward with the moist poultice around his foot. They simply talked some more, filling each other in on their last weeks apart from each other. ------- Within hours of the inspection, the agent of the Admiralty in Gibraltar purchased the prize La Panthère. She would be counted as sixth-rate, a full-rigged sloop, and commanded by a post-captain. The harbour admiral renamed her HMS Daring and gave Dougherty temporary command over her to have her fitted for service in the Royal Navy. This was auspicious for Dougherty's future. Dougherty was lucky that the Gwendoline transport had to be condemned after an inspection showed four of her knees in such a poor shape as to render her beyond repair. Along with thirty-eight of her crew, Lt. Malloy gladly accepted an appointment to Daring, happy to serve in a real Navy ship again. The man had made an admirable turnabout, Tony had to concede, and he looked upon Dougherty as the man who had saved him from disgrace. The Harbour Admiral, Sir Josua Houghton, was also able to arrange for an exchange of prisoners with the Spanish in Algeciras, all the captured Spanish soldiers from Sesimbra against an almost equal number of British sailors, most of them captured from merchantmen that had fallen to Spanish privateers. These men jumped from the frying pan of the Spanish gaols into the fire of a life aboard a man-of-war. Nevertheless, with twenty-five marines, the freed seamen brought Daring almost to complement, and she would join the ships when they would leave Gibraltar for their next raid on the Portuguese coast. Tony spent most of the days in Gibraltar on shore, getting to know his son again and trying to get closer to Emily. In the evenings, they entertained Tony's fellow captains in their house. Captain Masters made no bones about the fact that he, like almost every other subaltern officer in the Jamaica station, had admired Harriet, and he professed his dismay when he learned of her return to England with her mother. Inevitably, talk also turned to Andrew Lambert, but Harriet could tell little beyond the fact that Andrew was still in command of Medusa. Also, a letter arrived from Oxford, in Siobhan Trilby's handwriting. They had indeed married before Major Trilby moved to Oxford, to join his new regiment. Almost immediately, Siobhan became with child, and she was deliriously happy, she wrote. Harriet had a warm feeling when she read the letter, remembering her friend with fondness. Everything seemed to be perfect, it seemed. Thus, Tony was in an elated mood again when they sailed for their next target, just north of Lisbon. Paynter had elaborated that they wanted the French to think that the British intended to establish a beachhead close to Lisbon, turning their attention away from northern Portugal. This time, they were bearding the lion. They were targeting the coastal village of Estoril, less than twenty miles west of Lisbon, and only two miles east of Cascais. The French had troops in Cascais; it was rumoured that Junot himself used Cascais for his winter quarters. Driving a wedge between Lisbon and Cascais might prod the French into a strong reaction. Again, Captain Masters would lead the landing force since Toni still showed a strong limp. The advantage of Estoril was the fact that the main approaches was by coastal roads, and these road could be taken under fire by the ships. There was an old castle on one of the beaches, and a more modern fort almost a mile to the East. Even the modern fort was built almost two hundred years ago, and its armament would be almost as old. If caught by surprise, those fortification would have a hard time fending off the British ships-of-the-line. Thus, tactics would have to be different this time. The boats would land the marines before sunup on a deserted beach three quarter-miles east of the modern fort. The beach was shielded from the fort by a rocky point, jutting out into the sea. Once landed, the marines would march on the fort while Warspite and Asia would attack the fort from the sea. It would take the French two hours at least, to get their shot-heating ovens hot, enough time to pummel the place with the big guns and have it taken by the marines. The old castle to the West would come next, but only once the fort was taken. It was a tall, medieval building, not built to take the sort of punishment that 32-pounders could deal out. Fortunately, the Portuguese had given Admiral Cotton plentiful information regarding the positions and states of their coastal defences. The evening after sailing, Tony entertained the wardroom in his cabin. Dougherty was invited back, too. It was a belated celebration of the successful raid on Lisbon, and the stay in Gibraltar had allowed Tony to stock up on fresh meat and produce. The mood was excellent, the food fresh and plentiful, and the guests showed the sort of exuberance one can see when an unpleasantness has been overcome for good. They sailed for three days and two nights until they approached the coast west of Lisbon. Using her excellent turn of speed and her complete set of French signal flags and codes, Daring reconnoitred the coast, masking as French corvette. Dougherty even exchanged private recognition signals with a fort in Cascais. This led to a change of plan. Once the morning dawned, Daring approached Estoril followed by York which flew the French colours over the Union Jack, as if she had been captured by the French corvette. Both ships were trailing launches. With private signals exchanged, the French let them approach and anchor just a cable length off the shore. When the marines and sailors tumbled down into the boats and made for the shore, the French barely had the time to sound the alarm. The advance guard of the marines stormed the rear gates before the surprised French could have them closed. Some fighting ensued inside the walls, but more marines were landed and poured into the fortress, quickly subduing any resistance. Leaving behind a strong rear guard to man the fort, Major Applethorn marched the bulk of his men on the medieval castle. Here, the defenders were alert but outnumbered badly. With sailors scaling the walls on four sides using grapnel hooks, the thinly spread defenders were outmatched, and once a sally port was opened from within, the marines took the castle with minimal casualties. Shortly after, the rest of the ships sailed into the bay, anchoring in flanking positions of the village. Tony anchored Asia to the West, able to cover the short coastal road from Cascais, while Warspite covered the eastern approaches. Watching Cascais, Tony saw that their action had stirred the French into hectic activity. Dispatch riders were galloping in all directions, as he could see through his glass. Also, troops were assembled and mustered. From their numbers, Tony guessed that Junot was not residing in Cascais at the moment. The French troops had to number less than one thousand men, and those slowly began to move towards Estoril. At Tony's command, fires were extinguished and the decks cleared for action. The range was already less than eight cable lengths - the effective range of 24-pounder guns - but Tony wanted to wait until the French columns moved closer. He planned to hit the French hard with the first broadsides. Once again, a spring cable was affixed to the anchor cable — tough work for the sailors involved. Having the men at the capstan shorten or lengthen the spring cable, Tony was able to turn the Asia to face the enemy with her broadside. The time for action came when the first French skirmishers encountered the British advance positions, west of the old castle. The main body of the French was now two cable lengths away, and Tony assembled his officers to show them the targets. Once the lieutenants were back on the gun decks and able to advise the quarter captains, Tony gave orders to open fire. The first broadside roared in groupings of four guns. What Tony could see of the fall of the shots, the direction was good, but range was a little short. Nevertheless, he could see a number of French soldiers fall. There must be rock bottom under a thin layer of soil, and the round shot sprayed the French with rock slivers. The second broadside fell closer to the marching French, and through his glass, Tony could see the faces of the soldiers as they regarded the big ship with increasing worry. With the gun breeches heating up, the third salvo landed in the centre of the column, wreaking havoc. Entire files were obliterated by the heavy shot and the concomitant spray of stone splinters. The French advance came to a halt, but some officer on horse gesticulated wildly with his sabre, and the remaining soldiers resumed their march at double-step, obviously hurrying to engage the British soldiers. The next broadside went a little wide, but the one thereafter was another direct hit. The officer who had ordered his men to advance was gone, too, likely blown to smithereens, and somebody in the French battalion recognised the futility of a daylight attack under the fire of a big battle ship. The French about faced and retreated hurriedly towards Cascais. The next attempt was made in the afternoon, and here, the Asians could only watch. The French marched inland before attacking the positions of the marines from the land side, precluding the British ships from firing their deadly broadsides. For a while, Tony was without news from the shore, but come the evening, Major Applethorn sent a report that the decimated French had been repulsed. Losses among the British were tolerable, but the French had not pressed their attack very hard either. As soon as darkness had settled, the marines were re-embarked, and before morning, the ships were sailing eastward along the coast. Skirting the massive fort at Carcavelos, the ships found an infantry column marching westward from Lisbon. The two ships of the line fired three broadsides each on the troops, but they could not really ascertain any damage done. Sailing further south, they found the rest of the squadron in the mouth of the River Tagus, blockading Lisbon. Approaching the ships, Tony noticed that Malta once again flew a blue ensign. This could only mean that a replacement for Sir Winston had arrived. In turn, this implied that said replacement had been sent prior to Sir Winston Keller's mysterious disappearance. In other words, Sir Charles Cotton had obviously asked for this after the San Augustin near-debacle. Tony nodded with satisfaction. Cotton was a very good commanding officer who had no qualms ruining the career of a fellow admiral if that was necessary for the good of the squadron. This was confirmed later, when the captains of Warspite, Asia, Daring, and Malta were summoned to Neptune. To Tony's surprise, the Malta's captain was not Captain Shields. The four captains — Captain Paynter had already returned to Neptune — were led to Cotton's day cabin where they found their admiral sitting with a man in rear-admiral's uniform. The newcomer was a tall, slim man and to Tony he looked like he was even younger than himself. Cotton made the introductions. "Rear-admiral the Right Honourable William Maynard, Captain Dunleary of Malta, Captain Masters of Warspite, Captain Sir Anthony Carter of Asia, and Captain Dougherty of Daring. Captain Dougherty's is a recent appointment as you can see." Dougherty was still wearing lieutenant's uniform. "Captain Dougherty played a crucial role in the recent operation against Estoril." Cotton added. "Gentlemen, as you probably guessed, Rear-admiral Maynard is the successor of Sir Winston Keller. He has already hoisted his flag in Malta and he brought his own flag captain, Captain Dunleary. Captain Shields has taken over command of the Hero, as Captain Treleven has expressed his wish to retire." That was a bucket-full of news. Tony saw a smirk on Admiral Maynard's lips. "Gentlemen, I would like to express my elation over having such distinguished officers under my flag. I would also assure you that I have been a captain for eleven years before receiving my flag, and I never once commanded a receiving ship." This caused some chuckles all around. "Let me also assure you that I have no plans to vanish from my cabin, something Captain Dunleary would never allow seeing that I am married to his daughter." This caused open laughter, especially when the elderly Captain Dunleary added his grim nod. Tony knew something about this odd twosome. Maynard was of the bluest blood; his father was the Earl of Woodforde, and he had been promoted to captain with unseemly haste. Dunleary had started before the mast, had been sailing master, then lieutenant, before he was posted as captain in 1800. He had to be close to sixty years of age, but he was clear eyed and trim. When the laughter abated, Maynard added another bon mot. "For the same reason, I have no desire to expose my captains to unnecessary risks," he said, giving Tony a nod. Tony felt the need to answer in kind. "My foot will appreciate the reprieve, Sir," he said with a straight face. "Gentlemen, time is pressing," Sir Charles cut in. "I have to stay off Lisbon, for the time being. So far, the Russian ships show no signs of joining either side, but we have to be prepared." Eight Russian men-of-war which, returning from Corfu last November, had entered the River Tagus to repair storm damage, were now blockaded by the British. The Russian Tsar had changed sides after the disastrous battle of Tilsit and was now at least nominally allied with Napoleon. The ships of Admiral Senyavin, who had fought alongside the British forces under Lord Collingwood, were now considered enemies and blockaded out of necessity. "This requires that Admiral Maynard will have to act in my stead. Preparations are underway to land considerable Army forces on the Peninsula. Major-General Dalrymple will head that campaign, but there will be reinforcements from England. Sir John Moore and Sir Arthur Wellesley have also been named as commanding officers. You will reconnoitre the Portuguese coastline for likely landing sites. Following that, Admiral Maynard will meet with Sir Hew Dalrymple and other Army officers in Gibraltar, to discuss the planning." Maynard nodded politely. "We shall have to be cautious so as not to alert the French side to our intentions. I have prepared a list of places, based on the charts given to us by our Portuguese allies. We shall split up, giving each of you two or three locations to evaluate. I have a number of Portuguese officers on board. You will try to contact Portuguese fishermen and have them land our friends to gather intelligence. I ask you to rendezvous with me in Gibraltar no later than May 30." "Are we at liberty to attack enemy shipping during our cruises, Sir?" Masters asked. "By all means, yes," Sir Charles answered. "Anything that weakens the position of the French. It would look suspicious, too, were we to tread lightly." Nobody else had questions, and Maynard handed out charts and lists to the individual captains. When they stood on deck again, waiting for their boats, Maynard nudged Tony's arm. "A word in private, Sir Anthony." They stood aside. "Sir Anthony, when I received my command I also learned about the captains under my command. I discussed this with my wife who will move to Gibraltar for the duration of my posting and she expressed her displeasure at the possibility of meeting Lady Carter. She would not go into specifics, but it seems to be a childhood quarrel. Do you happen to know anything?" Tony almost groaned but he maintained a neutral expression. "Sir, I have no knowledge of any history between your wife and mine. I met my wife first when she travelled to Kingston, to join her father, back in '97. I cannot say that we learned much about each other then. We only saw each other again in '02, after my posting, but I had to leave for New South Wales, and I never really spoke her again before '05." "I see. I would ask you not to let this hen fighting influence your performance under my command, and I shall promise you the same in return." "Of course, Sir. I shall tell my wife to let bygones be bygones. After all, Gibraltar is small, and they cannot avoid meeting each other." "I would appreciate that, Captain. I need nothing of this sort to compromise the effectiveness of my squadron." "Of course, Sir," was all Tony could answer to this. One of his first acts after returning to Asia was to compose a letter to Harriet, warning her of the arrival of one Mrs. Maynard, née Dunleary, in Gibraltar and of the grudge Mrs. Maynard held against Harriet. That done, he sealed the letter and had it sent over to the flagship, to be included with the next dispatches to Gibraltar. This completed, Tony then called for the Sailing Master to plan their cruise. Later that evening, a Portuguese gentleman, Senhor Figueira, came aboard. He was a retired major of the artillery, and he would make contact with Portuguese loyalists. He was given his own cabin, the one usually used by a flag lieutenant when Asia shipped an admiral, and offered the hospitality of the wardroom. Early on the next morning, Asia set sail and headed westward to gain the open Atlantic before she started on her run north, to inspect landing sites. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 16: A Ghost from the Past The arrival of the Plymouth packet always caused excitement among the British in Gibraltar, and after a few months here, Harriet felt it, too. Standing in a small crowd of spectators with Lucy, she watched the passengers alight from the vessel, one after the other. They were mostly officers for the garrison, then some merchants. Last came a woman, obviously a lady of means, who travelled with two servants. Harriet looked at her with interest which upon recognition turned into dismay. "Oh, no!" she groaned. "Not Maggie!" Torn from her watching, Lucy turned. "Do you know her?" Harriet nodded miserably. "I do, and she knows me, too." "You don't like her?" Harriet shook her head. "No, it's not that. She hates me, and she has every reason to hate me." "Why's that, Harriet? Surely you did nothing bad?" "I was mean and condescending. I caused her mortal embarrassment, pain and hurt." Lucy put an arm around Harriet. "Harriet, I have known you for five years. You don't have a mean bone in your body, and you're never condescending." Harriet turned to Lucy. "You never knew me when I was younger. I was spoilt and mean. Oh well, here she comes. Time to face the past." Harriet suppressed the impulse to turn and walk away. Gibraltar was too small to avoid meeting the woman. The woman had recognised her, too, and her steps were halting. Finally, the two woman stood face to face. "Hello, Maggie," Harriet offered. "Harriet," the woman answered icily. "I knew I'd find you here, of course, though I did not expect you as welcoming committee." "Th-this is my good friend, Mrs. Wilkes. Her husband, Dr. Wilkes is surgeon in my husband's ship." "Oh yes, that would be the perfect Sir Anthony Carter, of course. You married quite the upstart, didn't you?" To her surprise, the scathing remark left Harriet unfazed. "Some would say that. I hear you married William Maynard. My father says he is one of the most promising officers in the service. You must be very proud of him." That was not quite true, but Harriet felt that a little flattering might be in order. Margaret Maynard gave her a suspicious look. "I meant nothing bad, Maggie," Harriet added with a sad smile. "Look, I know that I treated you horribly, back then. It has been on my conscience ever since. I want you to know that I regret my behaviour. I have learned the truths of life since then, and I hope that I am not the stupid and arrogant snoot anymore that I was then. I offer you my apologies." "You don't have to worry. My husband is above such matters, and he will not take it out on your husband." She saw Harriet's question. "Oh, I guess you don't know it yet. My husband replaces Sir Winston Keller." Harriet felt the blood leave her face. Now she was causing trouble for Tony again, dangerous trouble. She whipped her brain to give the appropriate answer. "Any other admiral than Keller is a vast improvement. You are right though. I did not know that. I did not apologise for that reason, either. I apologise because I have come to realise how mean and stupid I was. I wish I could make it undone, and that is the truth. I shall leave you alone now. If you decide you can accept my apologies, I shall be happy to help you in any way I can." No answer came forth, and Harriet could see renewed hurt and distrust in Margaret Maynard's eyes. With a sad smile, Harriet turned and led Lucy back to their house. "Whatever did you do to her, Harriet?" Lucy asked after they entered the house. Harriet let herself fall into one of the upholstered chairs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "We were both attending Miss Porthouse's Institute back then. I was almost sixteen; it was my last year there. Maggie was there, too. She was a misfit in everybody's eyes. Her father was a mere sailing master. He'd had some luck with prize money it seemed, and he wanted to give his only child a good education while he was at sea. Can you imagine how she was treated? She was a doormat for all of us. We thought we were so much better. I think some of us were worse than me, but not by much. We'd put her down at every opportunity. "The strange thing was, she was always following me and trying to be my friend. It got so obvious that the others taunted me with it, and it made me angry at Maggie. She was a perfect student, too, always trying to please the tutors, and that angered us even more. The tutors always used her as example. The other girls egged me on; they wanted to play a big prank on her, and so one evening, before inspection, I smuggled a print into her things. Philomena Burkett had smuggled it in; it was a picture of a naked man. "Of course, it was found. Maggie cried and pleaded, swearing she had never seen it before, but of course, nobody believed her. Mrs. Porthouse took a riding crop to her naked bottom, in front of the entire institute, and they left her standing with her red raw bum for the full night. They almost expelled her." "How did she know it was you?" Harriet heaved a sobbing sigh. "She came to me afterwards, pleading with me to be her friend again. She was beside herself. And I did the most terrible thing: I told her I wasn't her friend. I told her I had slipped the picture into her things. I said I had no use for her at all. She just fell apart before my eyes. I began to feel bad then, but the other girls were watching, and I did not dare to be nice to her. She never spoke to me again until today." "That was a terrible thing to do, Harriet," Lucy said with emphasis. "I cannot reconcile this with the Harriet I know. I mean, you knew I had even been a convict. Still, you took me in and became my friend." "I grew up, Lucy. I left those other girls behind when I followed my father to Kingston. I met Tony, most important of all. He just swept all those snooty ideas from my thinking. There was another reason, too. The story made the rounds and my mother learned of it. You know her, and you can imagine what she did." "She whipped you?" "She went to Mrs. Porthouse and demanded to know how many lashes Maggie had received. She gave me one over that. I also went without food for three days, and she brushed off any visitors I might have. She had me come to Kingston with her and Andrew. Of course, I would have never met Tony without that." Lucy shook her head. "If anyone would have told me this outlandish story, I would have laughed at it. Does Anthony know anything about it?" "No, I never told him. This was so far back in my past, and I am still ashamed over it." "As you should, Harriet. You know that I think the world of you, but that makes it worse for me. You must win her forgiveness." "You're not setting an easy goal for me, but you are right. I have learned a few things in the last years, and one of them is that if you apologise you must mean it." ------- As a matter of fact, Lucy was the first to meet Mrs. Maynard again. The two women almost bumped into one another in Mr. Tarifa's wine and cheese store. Mrs. Maynard was ill at ease, but Lucy greeted her friendly, leaving her little choice but to answer in kind. They talked a few moments about the wares available at Mr. Tarifa's, but Lucy noticed something. "Forgive me if I am prying, Mrs. Maynard, but you seem to suffer from some discomfort. Is anything wrong?" Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Maynard answered in a whisper. "I need to find a privy. I don't know what it is the last days; I seem to always need to go." Lucy's eyebrows shot up. "Does it hurt?" she asked, in an equally low voice. "A little," Margaret Maynard admitted. "Is there perhaps blood in it?" "There was some, in my night pot." "Oh dear, you seem to have a sore bladder. We must act at once before it exacerbates. Tell me, did you drink plenty during the passage?" Mrs. Maynard shook her head. "No, there was only ale and water, mostly, and I am not partial to ale. The water was worse than usual, and I drank only a few cups of tea." "You must drink a lot, my dear. especially in this warm climate. Herbal teas, preferably. Fortunately, I have bearberry leaves, horsetail, and birch leaves at home. Come with me. I'll show you how to prepare the teas." "Are you ... knowledgeable about healing?" "My father was an apothecary and herbalist. He taught me most of what he knew. Also, my husband is a member of the Royal College of Surgeons. I fear you have to settle for my help, for there is little Gibraltar can boast in the way of the medical professions." "You are very kind, Mrs. Wilkes. Where do you live?" Lucy's face fell. "Oh, I live with my friend, Lady Carter. If that makes you uncomfortable, I could bring my ingredients to your home." "She is your good friend?" "The best friend in the world," Lucy answered without hesitation. "She is the most kind-hearted and loyal woman I ever met." Margaret Maynard could not help but offer a short snort. Lucy continued in a soft voice. "She confessed everything to me; what she did to you back then. You must believe me, the Harriet you knew over ten years ago is no more. She grew up into a wonderful woman. She meant what she said to you. If I may say so, if you believe that your lot was terrible, it was nothing compared to the torment Harriet went through." "You mean the beating her mother administered? I heard. Her mother came to me, to apologise. She told me about the caning, too. It was nothing. It was done in private. She did not have to stand around with her bloodied back in front of the entire school." "No, I meant being raped and forced to marry her rapist. I meant losing her unborn child to the brutality of that man. I meant despairing of ever being united with the only man she ever loved. I meant reading in the newspapers that her true love was mortally wounded in battle; a misinformation, thank God! In spite of this, she was a friend to me, a former deported convict, and she lent her strength to an orphaned, violated girl." "Moira Palmer," Margaret Maynard said tonelessly. "We had an argument, a few months back, over Harriet's character." A smirk appeared on her lips. "I thought she'd tear my eyes out, she was that scary." "Yes, Moira, the third in our quartet of unlikely friends." "Who would be the fourth, then?" "Why, Anita Heyworth of course." Margaret Maynard shook her head. "Another story I heard and never believed. Can it be that I am that wrong about her?" "No," Lucy answered. "You are right about the condescending and mean snoot you knew, but you are wrong about the woman she is today. Do yourself a favour and get to know her." Just then, another spasm hit Mrs. Maynard. "I believe we had better go to your lodgings," she said. Over the course of the day, Lucy was able to get Margaret Maynard to drink almost a gallon of tea. She had to stay at Harriet and Lucy's house. Lucy insisted, for Mrs. Maynard's two maidservants were quite ignorant and unfit to watch over their mistress. After an awkward first meeting, Harriet joined in the efforts, with some help from Jenny. A fever hit Mrs. Maynard in the evening, and the three women watched over her all night, taking shifts. Seeing Harriet dispose of her bloody urine more than anything proved her earnestness to Margaret. "How come you disliked me so much?" she finally asked Harriet some time close to sunrise, when she woke from her sleep, her fever broken. "I was weak and stupid. I feared the other girls' tongues when they learned we were friends. I was embarrassed by your attempts to befriend me. I had to prove that I was snootier than the greatest snoot." Harriet shook her head. "It took a lowly seadog, the disreputable second mate of a nutshell, to set my head straight." "Mrs. Wilkes told me a few things. So did Moira Palmer. It seems that you went through a living hell with your first husband." To her own surprise, Harriet could think of Rupert Palmer without any hatred welling up. A smile appeared on her face. "You know, this is the first time that I think of him without being overwhelmed by hatred. It must mean that I am healing. You are right, he was a horrible and evil man. Cowardly, too. What really hurt me, though, was the certainty that I had lost the man I loved. Fortunately, I was wrong." "At least in this regard, I was luckier than you. My father shared the wardroom with William who was a lieutenant, then. The ship was laid up at Gosport, and Father offered William a place to stay until they found their next assignment. I was home, after finishing at Miss Porthouse's Institute, and I saw after the household. We talked a lot, William and I, and he made me laugh. "They made Father a lieutenant then, and at the same time, William was made commander. Father accepted to be First under him, and we celebrated once more, going to a dance. I never felt better in my life than when I danced with William. He treated me courteously, like I was a young lady. He even called me a young lady. When they sailed for the Baltic Sea, I cried for days. "When William's sloop returned to London, eleven months later, he was posted Captain. Father received the command of the sloop, the Hotspur. I was allowed to sail in her once. She was a good ship, and I was so proud of my father. Sadly, some Captain Meadows lost her on the Black Rocks off Brest, in '04 or '05. "Anyway, I had almost forgotten about Captain Maynard when he called upon me, a few months later. I almost fainted when he told me that he had asked my father for permission to woo me. The hurt from — well, you would call it a prank — was still there, and I feared I was being set up for hurt again, but he was so adamant and earnest, I gave in. "He courted me for over a year. When he was at sea, he wrote me letters. When he came to harbour, he would take me out. He presented me to his parents and other relatives, too. That was not too nice. No, that's wrong. It was horrible. William's mother barely looked at me, and if she did, it was with disdain. His father was more polite, but I felt the resentment anyway. William was wonderful, though. He announced our engagement against his father's objections. I must admit, once William and I were engaged, his father's attitude changed. Still, when we married, a year later, William's mother excused herself from attending, and so did many of his relatives." Harriet had put her hand on the resting woman's arm. "That must have been terrible, on top of what we did to you." A grim smile appeared on Margaret Maynard's lips. "Well, I am used to it." She laughed bitterly. Harriet shook her head. "My mother rejected Anthony, too, in the beginning. He was a freshly promoted lieutenant, the son of a lowly Jamaican skipper. She discouraged him in no uncertain terms. What nobody knew was just how good Anthony would be. He was a Post-Captain, not five years after joining the Navy. Now, of course, he was eligible. Thanks to my disagreeable character, I was still unmarried, too. But then, Rupert Palmer happened." "I heard about that marriage, back then. I thought you had married him for his prospects. It confirmed what I thought of you. I suppose I misjudged you." "In this regard, you did. You had better try to sleep a little more. Here, have another cup of Lucy's tea first." Obediently, Margaret emptied the cup and lay back on her pillows while Harriet left the room quietly. When the young woman woke the next time, Jenny was sitting at her side. "Good morning, Madam," Jenny beamed. "Lady Carter's greetings, and she is out getting lemons for you. Mrs. Lucy thinks that lemon juice will be good for you. Mrs. Lucy is helping out at the infirmary this morning." Margaret Maynard smiled in return. "I'm sorry. I did not hear your name yesterday." "Jenny Johnsen, Madam." "Are you a friend of Lady Carter, Miss Johnsen?" "It's Mrs. Johnsen, Madam. No, I am her confidential servant. My husband serves in Sir Anthony's ship. He is a master's mate now. Should I help you up?" "Yes, that would be kind." With Jenny's help, Margaret Maynard visited the privy, to empty her bladder which was filled to overflow. It hurt less than the morning before she noticed with relief. Afterwards, Jenny helped her clean and combed her hair. There was more tea for breakfast and some toasted bread. Margaret Maynard found that she had some appetite again. While she was still sitting at the table, a small boy entered the room on slightly unsteady legs, only to be swept up by Jenny. "There you are, Master Carter!" she laughed, setting the boy down on a chair. She ladled porridge into a bowl for the child and helped him eat. "Here, this helps you grow!" she cooed. "How old is he?" Margaret asked. "A year and a half. He's growing so fast," Jenny smiled. "I'll be having a child myself soon. I can't wait." It was only a few minutes later when Harriet arrived home, carrying fruit in a basket. "Oh, you're up and about. Are you feeling better?" "Yes, there was no pain when I visited the privy." "That's good. Now, Lucy said you have to drink orange and lemon juice and keep drinking your teas. Let me squeeze some lemons first." "Really, you should not bother, Harriet," Margaret protested. "I'm feeling much better already, and I should go back home." "Will you at least stay until Lucy is back?" "I can do that, but I have to prepare for the dinner tomorrow. Not that I am eager to go, but it would be in bad taste to decline the first invitation by His Excellency." "Oh, it is not that bad. His Excellency is a bit stuffy, and the wines leave a few things to desire, but the conversation is usually quite stimulating. Being the focus of attention takes a while to get used to, seeing that there are not too many ladies present in Gibraltar." "I am just not that accustomed to soirees," Margaret confided. "As long as William was a captain, there was not enough money for a large selection of dresses. I thought it more important that he had good uniforms, to further his career." Harriet raised her eyebrows. "I thought the Maynards are quite well off?" "William is only the third son, and being married to me, he has fallen out of favour with his father. I suppose you are in good standing with your parents?" "For the most part, yes," Harriet answered with a sigh. "It is not that important, though, for Anthony has been very fortunate with regard to prize money, and his investments also bear fruit. My parents have given us a small estate in Berkshire as my dowry, and I also inherited my first husband's belongings. Anthony has no penchant for gambling, so there are no worries in that regard. We have more than we spend." Harriet tilted her head. "Are you worried about the soiree?" "Just a little. The dress I plan to wear is a good one, but it is only one of two that I brought. The third soiree will already expose me. I have more to spend now, with William in flag rank, but I do not suppose that Gibraltar has many dressmakers." "No, not really," Harriet smiled. "Wait. Would you stand, please?" Shrugging, Margaret Maynard rose and Harriet stood close to her. "Just as I thought. You are my height. You are a bit fuller in the bust, so my dresses would not be a good fit. There is one dress, though, that is wider. Elisabeth made it for me, thinking my bust would become bigger when I carried Richard. I have not worn it here. As a matter of fact, I only wore it twice, in Bridgetown. It's cream colour is not too becoming for me, but it should look marvellous on you." "Really, Harriet, I could not..." "Oh please, allow me to help out. Your first evening here is important, not only for your own standing, but also for your husband's reputation." That was a weighty argument, obviously. Margaret Maynard agreed to try the dress. Jenny ran upstairs to find it while Harriet led her visitor back into the guest room. Jenny was back in a few minutes, and she helped Margaret into the evening dress. Pulling here and there, Harriet and Jenny arranged it and stepped back to survey the effect. Harriet smiled. "It never looked that good on me," she said with an admiring glance. "You have the perfect figure for it." The mirror was not the best quality, but Margaret Maynard could see that Harriet had not just been flattering. "This is beautiful. I never had a dress like this. Where did you get it?" "Wilson's in Bond Street, same as all my dresses. Elisabeth Wilson is a good friend, and I just cannot fathom going anywhere else." "This is a Wilson dress?" Margaret gasped. "Wasn't it terribly costly?" "As I said, Elisabeth is our friend. She started her first shop in Portsmouth with my husband's support, and I was one of her first customers. Do not worry one bit. We want you to look your best tomorrow. After all, we represent the Royal Navy." "That is true. Thank you, Harriet. I can see now that you are as kind and helpful as your friends always claimed. Will you give me some time? I spent twelve years resenting you, and it isn't easy to get over it." Harriet pressed the woman's hand. "I am not trying to buy myself into your forgiveness. I am happy that you find me a better person than I was back then. I am sure you will make friends here soon, but I hope we can at least be friendly." Margaret smiled. "Friendly is good. Now, I should better dress in my old dress to get home." Harriet felt nothing but honest relief when she had bidden farewell to her guest. Only time would tell if Margaret Maynard could truly forgive her, but the last days had been a start. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 17: Gibraltar Interlude HMS Asia, sailing under stay sails only to mask her appearance and reduce her visibility, was creeping towards the Portuguese coast, just north of Mondego Bay. The moon would not rise for another two hours, and only the faintest of light helped Captain Carter to navigate his ship. Fortunately, they had surveyed the coast before, two weeks earlier. The small beach ahead was secluded and miles away from any human settlement. Here they had landed the Portuguese Major Figueira, to allow him to contact the loyalists at Coimbra which boasted Portugal's only university and was a focal point of the loyalists. Now it was time to pick him up. Tony had climbed into the foretop, and he stared into the darkness ahead, trying to see the weak fluorescence of the surf on the beach ahead. There! He could briefly see the white of a breaker rolling up the beach. Hastily, he climbed down the ratlines and joined the officers on the quarter deck. "Are your men ready, Mr. Prince?" The Fifth Lieutenant nodded. "Yes, Sir. The cutter crew has been told off, and ten marines under Cpl. Billing are waiting." "Well, then, let's heave to. Mr. Prince, have the cutter lowered and off with you!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" the young prince rapped eagerly, already turning away. There was no boatswain pipes to be heard when the crew manned the tackles, and the blocks had been greased in advance. In as much silence as possible, the cutter was lowered into the water. A few minutes later, the crew shoved off. Cutter and oars had been painted black, and the men in the cutter wore dark sweaters and blackened trousers. Once they were away from the ship by a half cable length, they were invisible. There, on the beach, a lantern was flashing. Three long, one short, another long flash — the pre-arranged signal. Tony breathed a low sigh of relief. At least, this part went as planned. Now, he had to wait. Fortunately, the pick-up went smoothly. Less than a half hour had passed when the cutter bumped against Asia's side. Major Figueira entered through the port, grinning widely. It was eerily reminiscent of John Little's grin since the tall Major had blackened his face with burnt cork. "I must meet with your Admiral Maynard, Don Antonio," he whispered excitedly. He was literally dancing on the deck. Tony realised that any further talk had to wait. "Mr. Laughton, let us get under way again, course south by south-east. Keep things quiet, if you please." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Laughton answered, emulating Dougherty's quiet efficiency. "Helm to port, quartermaster!" Slowly, Asia gathered the wind in her stay-sails and crept to seaward. Out of sight from possible watchers on the shore, the stay-sails disappeared, and the topsails and topgallants were set. Once Tony had satisfied himself that Asia was well under way, he turned in. Lying in his cot, he thought of Harriet. He would see her again in a few days, after a seven week absence. He had received no news from her, neither regarding her pregnancy nor with regard to the meeting with Mrs. Maynard. Philosophically, he accepted that there was nothing he could do anyway. Tony's patience was sorely tested when Asia was stuck in a calm, off Cape Sagres. For two days, the ship rolled without steerage in the weak Atlantic swell. Many a grown sailor was re-acquainted with seasickness under those conditions, for there was a huge difference between the Asia under the press of sail and this lifeless tumbling. Finally, the weather gods relented, and Asia caught a three-knot breeze that carried her eastward once again. Gibraltar was baking under the early June sun when Asia finally cast anchor under the Rock. Dougherty's Daring was lying at anchor, same as Warspite and York, but there was no sign yet of the flagship. Sun sails were rigged over Asia's decks and wind funnels hoisted while at the same time, the first work parties were detailed to refit the ship after almost two months at sea. Responding to a signal from Warspite, Tony visited Captain Masters. They were exchanging their observations when Warspite's masthead sung out a "Ship ho!". Masters smiled wryly. "Must be our Most Honourable Admiral of the Rear," he grinned. "Not that I'm not aspiring to advancement, but I wish they were to dream up something other than Admiral of the Rear. I cannot help thinking of a rear end." Tony shook his head. "I never saw the title in this light. I take it, you would also object to becoming Privy Counsellor?" "Oh yes, that's even worse. By the way, I met the Lady Carter yesterday when I attended dinner at the Dalrymples'. She had Maynard's wife in tow, and all the gentle and not-so-gentle men were craning their heads to catch a glimpse of them and of Mrs. Wilkes." "They must be getting a lot of attention," Tony answered with equanimity. He trusted Harriet, and if she was getting admiring looks it wouldn't hurt him. "Are they getting along?" "Quite well, it would seem. From what I gathered, they attended the same school as girls and had not met for twelve years." "I did not know that," Tony answered. "It's good for them, to have friends here." Inwardly, he was relieved. Whatever grudge Mrs. Maynard had held against Harriet, it must be forgotten. Before they could continue, a midshipman entered. "Sir, the flagship is in sight and heading for the harbour." "You had better return to your ship, Tony. A Guinea says we'll be having a meeting in the Malta before two hours are over." "Sorry, no takers," Tony smiled. "I better rouse my Portuguese Major, too. He seems to be excited, but he would not tell me the reasons." Two hours later found the captains sitting in Malta's admiral's cabin, sipping a fruity Madeira wine and comparing notes. Two places had been identified as good landing sites. The inlet at Aveiro was open and had wide beaches, but it was farther to the north than the beach at Figueira da Foz, on the Mondego bay, which also boasted wide beaches and a narrow river inlet. When Major Figueira, whose name oddly matched the name of the village, gave his report, however, the balance shifted to the Mondego Bay. He reported about a meeting with loyalists in the city of Coimbra, mostly students of the university, who were plotting to take over the coastal fort at Figueira da Foz, thus opening the site for a landing of British troops. Tony then showed the chart he had prepared of the river mouth and the adjoining beaches. Once every officer had had his say, the choice of Figueira da Foz was unanimous. Tony was impressed by the way Maynard moderated the discussions. He was open to suggestions and careful to weigh arguments without giving up authority. He also managed to rebuke arguments without sounding arrogant or supercilious. In the end, he was cordial and appreciative. "Gentlemen, I must thank you for your well-directed efforts and your excellent contributions. I shall meet with General Dalrymple and his staff tomorrow and see what has to be done on our part. May I expect you gentlemen for dinner tonight?" Four captains nodded in response. "Oh, Sir Anthony, I almost forgot. Please, extend the invitation to Lady Carter. My wife will attend, too." "Certainly, Sir," was all Tony could answer to that. Instead of returning to Asia, Tony had the gig head for the quay. Before they even reached the stone pier, he could already see Harriet waiting for him. She waved to him, obviously in a good mood, and once Tony made his way up on the pier, she lay in his arms. "Oh darling, it is so good to see you!" she squealed in his embrace. "I live for those few days I can hold you in my arms," Tony answered. "How are you two faring?" "It's not obvious yet, is it?" "Only to me, because I have your image before my eyes all the time, and I see even small changes." "What changes, pray?" Harriet inquired playfully. "Why, you look more radiant, my dear," Tony answered glibly. Stepping close, he brought his mouth to her ear. "That, and your breasts are swelling." "Are you complaining?" Harriet asked with her eyebrows arched. "There is nothing about you to merit any complaint," Tony returned. "Aha! A good answer, too! You are becoming quite the charmeur." "It is you who inspires me," Tony kept the last word. With Harriet on his arm, he walked the short distance to their rented house, and there, Harriet had him sit in the cool inner yard while she had Jenny bring them fresh lemonade. Tony drank thirstily and with pleasure; it was rare to have a fresh drink. Harriet sat across from him. "I got your warning about Margaret Maynard, but it was five days late," she said with a smile. "It was quite a shock for me to see her on the quay." "Will you tell me why she hates you so much?" Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. "Hated. Let us say that, before I met you, I was not the nicest girl at times. I was a spoiled brat, as you so aptly characterised me once. I played a malicious prank on Maggie, and I was cruel to her. I apologised at the first chance after her arrival and asked her forgiveness. We are on speaking terms again, maybe even a little bit beyond that. Only time will tell." Tony looked at Harriet. She was not going into detail, not of her free will. "Was that why your mother had to cane you once and why she made you come to Kingston with her?" Harriet's face lost her colour. "She told you?" Tony shook his head. "Your father did, and he had it from one of the servants. He thought I should know what I was getting into." Harriet's paleness changed into a furious blush. She seemed to make up her mind though and looked straight into his eyes. "You have met Captain Dunleary, haven't you? Well, he was a sailing master, back then, and hardly a gentleman. At least, that was what the other girls maintained. He was lucky with prize money, and he sent his only child to the same institute that I attended. Maggie was an outcast from the start, even though she did her best to fit in. Or maybe, because she was so eager to fit in, I don't know. For some reason, she had it in her mind to be my friend, but I wasn't brave enough to defy all the other girls who looked down on her. "The other girls taunted me, too, speaking of Maggie as my special friend. I hated that, so when they planned the prank, I volunteered to bring it about, just to show that I wasn't Maggie's friend. I put an indecent picture between her things. When the headmistress found it at inspection, Maggie was caned cruelly and humiliated before the entire institute. "Afterwards, she came to me for solace, and I told her that I had been the one who had got her the punishment. I told her I didn't want to be her friend, because she wasn't good enough for me." Harriet sighed heavily. "I'll never forget that look on her face. "Obviously, my desire to be accepted by the other girls was just as fruitless as Maggie's wish to be my friend. They told on me to their mothers, and of course, Mother found out then. You already know the rest." Tony shook his head. This was not the Harriet he knew, or was it? Some of that attitude had still lingered when they first met, in the Pretty Jane. The he realised something else. "That was a cruel hoax, darling, and you were right to offer apologies and ask forgiveness. Yet, thinking about it, I cannot help but be happy over the consequences. I would have never met you, had you not accompanied your mother to Kingston." Harriet gave him a wry smile. "Once again, the good that comes out of a bad deed?" she asked. "A lot of good came out of it. You came out of it, and I mean the 'you' who learned from the affair. It was part of your growing up, and I cannot complain about the result." Harriet rose from her chair and came over, sitting down on Tony's lap. She looked into his eyes. "The caning from my mother did not help. I was still a brat and a snoot. The one thing that made me grow up was meeting you, watching you and how you brought us to safety. Falling in love with you made me rethink my prejudice against ... Well, against people of more humble origin. Tony, if I am — hopefully — a better person now, I owe it all to you." "Darling, all the goodness was there. If I had a hand in awakening it, then I'm proud of it. First and foremost, however, you were the one to see where you erred, and you prevailed against your earlier failings. I admit I am a bit appalled over the cruelty you showed back then, but you overcame that meanness, and that makes me proud of you." "Anthony Carter, did I ever tell you that I love you?" "More often than I earned," Tony smiled. Harriet shook her head. "This is where we will always disagree," she said, and then she laid a kiss on his lips that lasted for what felt like an hour. In the end, Tony had to free himself. "If we continue this, we will end up in our bed." "Yes." Harriet answered serenely. "What is your point?" "My point is, we are invited to dinner in the Malta. Seeing that Maynard is hosting, we may even be able to eat, unlike our last visit." Harriet's face fell a little bit, but then she smiled. "At least I can be certain that Maggie's husband will not try to have you killed, at least not because of me." Tony groaned a little. "You know?" "It took almost two weeks before the rumour reached me. Don't worry, darling. I know why you kept that from me, but I assure you that I don't feel guilty. Had I known about his ... His preposterous schemes, I would have certainly discouraged him." "He was beyond reason, Harriet. I saw parts of his diary. And you are right, this happened through no fault of yours. Had I known that you took it so well, I would have told you. I just..." "You wanted to keep that off my conscience, I know. I love you for it. So, what shall I wear? Something modest, so I shan't upstage Maggie. She is the hostess, after all. Not the green dress, then. Oh, I know! The pale blue, from two years ago. That will be modest enough." Tony kept his mouth shut wisely. He was glad that he did not have to ponder such problems. Dinner in the flagship meant the Nº2 uniform coat, and no star and sash. For this reason alone, Tony dreaded a civilian life. A Navy officer needed no sense for fashion, nor for colours, and he could not be blamed for wearing the exactly same uniform at every occasion. Harriet was already giving instructions to Jenny, and Tony found the way upstairs to the children's room. Emily was reading in a book; she looked up when he entered. "Hello, Emily. How is my favourite little girl?" A shy smile played around her lips. "I am reading a fairy tale. Aunt Lucy gave it to me." "That was nice of Aunt Lucy. Will you tell me what it's about?" "It's about a Prince, a real one, who goes to the large city to find a true Princess, but all the girls he meets are booooring and snooty. But then he gets hungry and goes into a bakery. In the bakery is a girl; she is the baker's daughter. He likes the taste of the pastries, and he asks how they are made. She tells him, and they talk and talk, and he thinks she is really smart, much smarter than all the Princesses, and he asks her to the ball in his father's castle. His father is the King, you know. But they all laugh at her, 'cause she's just a baker's daughter and not a Princess, and she runs away. I have to read more, to see whether the Prince will go after her." Tony smiled. "That sounds like an exciting story. Have you read all that?" "Some, but Aunt Lucy and Mama Harriet have read some to me, too." "I'm glad you two get along so well," Tony smiled. "I like Mama Harriet's hair. It's so pretty, just like my real Mama's." "Yes, Emily, your Mama Rose had very pretty hair. You miss her, don't you?" Emily nodded earnestly. "Some. Sometimes I forget, like when Jenny tells me stories of pirates. I like pirate stories, even better than fairy tales. Jenny says her Papa was a real pirate. Is that true?" Tony nodded earnestly. "Yes, he was a bloody pirate by the name of Harry Morgan, and Jenny was a pirate princess." "Really?" Emily's eyes were wide open in awe. "Did she carry a great big sabre?" "No, but she has a wicked knife, and she's very brave," Tony replied, fighting a chuckle. "Mama Harriet and I trust her very much." "Where is Jenny's father now? Is he still a bloody pirate?" Tony thought quickly. He better not tell Emily the full truth, he decided. "He knew that Jenny fell in love with Eric, and he wanted them to be happy. So he sent them in our way, and we took them in, Mama Harriet took Jenny, and I took Eric in my crew. Captain Morgan disappeared, though, with all his gold and treasure, and nobody has ever seen him again." Emily looked at him with big eyes for a few moments before she had the next question. "Is your ship bigger than his?" "Yes, Emily, the Asia is about as big as ships can be." "And you have more guns? How many guns do you have?" "We have eighty guns. You know eighty? No? See all your fingers? That's ten. Now, when eight boys and girls show their fingers, that is how many guns the Asia carries." "And they are really loud. We were down deep in the ship, but we could still hear them. Mama Harriet said you had them shoot at pivoteers. What are pivoteers?" "The word is privateer, and they're like pirates, only they say they fight for a king or an emperor." "I don't like pivo—privoteers; I like pirates like Jenny's father." That being settled, Jenny looked into her book again. Smiling, Tony rose from the floor, only to look into Harriet and Jenny's faces. Harriet was smiling, but Jenny was irked. "A pirate princess?" she mouthed. She continued in a whisper. "Now I have to make up even more stories." Tony grinned. "Make them good ones; Emily has high standards." Richard was napping, and Tony spent a few minutes watching his sleeping son. In the bedroom, he changed into one of the good uniforms he kept in the house and then watched Harriet as she dressed. A few times, he interrupted her preparations, keeping her flustered with kisses and touches, until she slapped away his hands in mock anger. Jenny rescued her mistress by bringing Richard in. He was awake and enterprising, giving Tony a rare opportunity to play with his son. Richard was developing fast; he could already stack wooden blocks into simple structures. Tony enjoyed the rare opportunity, but soon it was time to leave. Leaving Jenny in charge — Eric Johnsen would receive shore leave the next evening — Tony and Harriet walked to the quay and signalled for the gig. With the water calm, Harriet dispensed with the use of a boatswain's chair and nimbly climbed up Malta's Jacob's ladder. Captain Dunleary was wary of Harriet, but she knew why. Margaret Maynard had not had the opportunity to tell her father of the truce between her and Harriet. Tony and Captain Dunleary spent a few moments of chit-chat, mostly commenting on the merits of their almost identical ships, but then, the admiral's barge left the quay, with Maynard and his wife. Tony was uneasy, but when Margaret Maynard entered through the port, she greeted Harriet by exchanging cheek kisses, much to her father's surprise. Tony had a faint notion that he had seen Mrs. Maynard's dress before, but then again, he was a man and his perception was not reliable in such matters. He kissed Mrs. Maynard's hand and mumbled his, "Your servant, Madam." while she smiled at him. "Harriet has told me many good things about you, Captain." "I am afraid she is biased, Madam," Tony responded modestly. He turned to his superior. "Sir, may I introduce Lady Carter?" Now it was Maynard's turn to kiss a proffered hand. "I am delighted, Madam, and even more so now that I learned than you and my wife have reconciled." Harriet showed a faint blush. "I can only ascribe this to Margaret's good heart and her forgiving nature," she replied. "I am glad of it, nonetheless." "Well, it is good news for all of us. I am delighted that my wife can now rely on friends in any predicament she may find herself in." "Of that, I can assure you," Harriet smiled back. Dougherty arrived next, still a little ill at ease in his brand new captain's uniform, and he greeted both ladies with perfect form. Jeremy Masters was his usual lighthearted self, greeting both ladies with effusive compliments, making Margaret Maynard blush and Harriet smile. "Why, Captain Masters, what happened to the shy lieutenant who barely spoke a word when we danced?" She turned to Margaret. "You have to know that Captain Masters was a lieutenant in the Medusa, in the Kingston station, and I met him twice when we had dances at Admiralty House. He was shyness incarnate then, much in contrast to the conduct certain other lieutenants showed." "I was never aware that you appreciated shyness, my dear," Tony threw in, taking the bait. "Perhaps not shyness, but discretion would have been a decided boon," Harriet retorted with a straight face. "I fear you are outgunned, Anthony," Masters laughed. "I made it rule early on never to start an argument with my wife. Wives' memories are like an elephant's; they never forget a single transgression we commit." "Fie, Captain Masters, what would Mrs. Masters say if she heard you?" Harriet queried. "She would say, 'He learnt his lessons.' What I present here as my wisdom is what she taught me." The Maynards led the way aft, to the admiral's cabin. Maynard had done a few things to the cabin, Tony thought, and it looked much better. Gone was the huge crucifix, and gone was the lectern with the huge Bible. Instead, a set of printed hunting scenes adorned the bulwarks. The China was obviously new, as was the silverware. Maynard had been one of those captains who were always posted in the wrong station to see action, and in spite of his excellent reputation, he had never earned much in the way of prize money. The flag with the concomitant rise in pay must have come as a reprieve. The food was fresh and well prepared, though, and the wines, while certainly not the best, were of good vintage and quality, nonetheless. Midway through the dinner, Tony finally remembered why he knew Margaret Maynard's dress. He had seen it twice on Harriet, two years ago, in Bridgetown. He filed that information away, concentrating on the table talk instead. He noticed that Harriet was trying to draw Margaret Maynard from her shell, including her into the conversation. Masters picked up on that, and he, too, asked her questions or solicited her opinion. By the third course, she conversed freely with everyone, and she showed a lively intelligence and wittiness in her contributions that made it clear that Admiral Maynard, the son of an Earl, had not chosen this commoner girl for her looks and youthful charm alone. More than once, Captain Dunleary's eyes showed the pride he felt over his daughter. Dunleary was quite a character himself. He had spent close to fifty years in the Royal Navy, starting as a powder monkey at the age of eight years. He could tell stories of Admiral Rodney and of Captain 'Mad Jack' Montagu, having served under both. The latter's life was a fount of seaman's yarn, he having been a brute and a man of coarse and cruel humour. "'Twas in '66, I rowing bow in Mad Jack's gig, when he sailed his Triumph into Portsmouth," Dunleary started a story. "We came in after a terrible storm had swept through, and there was this Dutch merchant that had capsized. A dozen or so Dutchmen lay dead on the beach when we landed, and Mad Jack laughed and gave orders to stuff their hands into their pockets. "He marched straight for the nearest tavern house, as was his custom, and we were left to wait. Now, by what we were told later, he found the Dutch Captain in the tavern, comforted in his misery by the other sailors present. He steps up, and says, 'Sir, your crew of lubbers was just too lazy to save their lives. By my word, I'd say, they never bothered to take their hands out of their pockets, even when drowning to death.' "The Dutchman was terribly incensed and protested against this outrageous accusation. Mad Jack then wagered five Guineas that they would find the Dutch crewmen with their hands still in their pockets. Of course, the Dutchman accepted the wager, and woe to him when they arrived at the beach and the dead sailors all had their hands in their pockets! Montague demanded payment, grinning outrageously, and the fuming Dutchman had to comply. We of his gig's crew got a tankard of ale for our troubles, and Mad Jack pocketed the rest." Margaret Maynard shook her head, smiling at her father. "Somebody should write down all your stories, Father. Then, at least, you could pass the book around, and I wouldn't have to hear them time and again." "It is a good story, though," Masters cut in. "I heard other tales about him; he must have been uncouth to the extreme while descended from the noblest of families." "Uncouth he was," Dunleary agreed. "He could make a Buccaneer blush with the swearwords he used in everyday language. He was a good captain, though, and he never lost a ship or a fight." Maynard picked up on the opportunity. "To the memory of Mad Jack Montagu," he toasted. "May we take example of his conduct if not of his language." Soon after, the dinner party broke up, but the captains enjoyed cigars on the quarterdeck while the ladies stood aside, talking. After casting a look at the two women, Maynard grinned at Tony. "Permission to sleep ashore, Captain." That was a nice gesture and appreciated. Once he and Harriet left the flagship in the gig, Tony made John Little stop at the Asia, and while leaving Harriet in the stern sheets, he briefly gave orders for the night. Back in the gig, they were rowed to the quay where Tony dismissed the gig. Harriet hooked her arm in Tony's. "That went well, didn't it?" "I should say. You handled the situation ably, darling. She is a charming young lady." Harriet pressed his arm. "Enough of the Maynards now. We are granted this one night, and you have aroused me enough all day. Besides, I will not allow our marriage to suffer again." "There is merit to that thought," Tony grinned. "It has been a long while." "Too long," Harriet confirmed. She led him straight to the bedroom after they arrived at their house, only briefly looking in on Emily and Richard. A scant five minutes later, a naked Harriet sat on the edge of their bed, waiting for Tony to complete his shaving. "I appreciate your thinking," she said huskily, knowing that there was but one reason for Tony to shave before going to bed. Unashamedly, Harriet rose and strode over to the wash stand. Wetting and soaping a cloth, she washed her pubes thoroughly, then wiped away the soap with the rinsed cloth. Once dried, she applied a droplet of perfume to her mons, above the patch of thin, red hair. Then she sat down on the bed again, her fingers already busy, opening the folds of her sex, and rubbing her nether lips in anticipation. Tony saw her in his shaving mirror, and he hurried to finish the shaving and to wipe away the foam. "Dear God, Harriet! Every time I see you, I find you more beautiful!" he exclaimed, stepping close. Even in the light of the oil lamps, he could see that her eyes were on fire with lust. "Wash your member!" she demanded, rubbing her slit. Smiling, Tony turned to the wash stand and soaped his straining rod and the balls below. Using the same cloth, he rinsed off the soap and dried his midsection. When he approached Harriet again, she reached out and gripped his member. Her cool hand felt heavenly on his hot flesh, and she pulled him closer. A moment later, Tony was in heaven, while Harriet used her lips and tongue on his staff. If possible, he became stiffer under her ministrations, yet she would not quit. Looking down, he saw that her left hand was rubbing her slit furiously, while her right hand and her soft mouth gave him a pleasure he had not enjoyed in months. All the while, she looked up at him with unwavering eyes, keeping a connection that went deep into his soul. It was not long before Tony felt the first signs of his approaching peak. There was no question that this was what Harriet aimed for, for she increased her ministrations even in the face of his bucking hips. When his member began to jerk in her grip, she closed her mouth around the swollen head and sucked hard. One, two, three spurts shot forth, and a fourth, weaker one, and Harriet kept sucking. In the sensory overload, his knees began to buckle, but Harriet did not notice, being in the throes of her own, manually induced peak of lust. Finally, Harriet let go, helping him to sit down and grinning smugly. "That should take care of your urgent needs," she said with obvious satisfaction. "Oh dear! That was simply mind shattering," he finally stated, once his breathing was approaching normal again. "A man could die happily, his member in your mouth." "Oh no, no dying before you take care of me!" Harriet protested, planting a long kiss on his mouth. He could taste himself on her lips. Then, she raised her left hand, the fingers glistening in the lamp light, and offered them to him for tasting. "Can you taste my arousal, darling?" she whispered huskily. "My little fanny is waiting for your lips and tongue." He tasted her aroma, faint but noticeable. With a smile, he kissed her lips again, pushing her back on the bed. With his tongue, he traced the way from her navel up to her left breast. Her nipple stiffened when he suckled playfully, and she inhaled deeply. He switched sides, and the response was the same. Tony looked up into her face. "No milk yet?" he complained. "You! I'm only two months along!" "Still, nothing," Tony mused. "I may try a different source then." He found that source easily between her legs. Her sex was soaked with her juices, and he let his tongue dive into the well. A sharp intake of breath and a low moan was his reward. Chuckling, Tony set to work. Alternately stabbing Harriet's fanny with his tongue, lashing her love button, or licking along her slit, he was able to work her up quickly. Harriet's hips were meeting his movements, the two of them dancing a dance that came naturally to them. In the end, the penetration of his curled finger while sucking on her pleasure point brought about the climax. "Nggghhh!" she moaned, muffled by the blanket she was biting on. Her whole body stiffened, while her hips shot up, desperately trying to increase the contact with Tony's lips and tongue. Then she sank down again, sighing with deep content, a blissful smile on her lips. It was Tony's turn to give his wife a smug smile. "I take it, I met your expectations?" Harriet smiled lazily. "Exceeded them, you exceeded them by far. Tony, would you just cuddle up to me and hold me? We'll have another opportunity tomorrow, for real coupling. Right now, I want to feel close to you." "Let's clean up and go to sleep then," Tony answered, giving Harriet a tender kiss. "I can't claim that you did not take care of my needs." After a quick rub down with the wet cloth, both slipped into their shirts and lay down side by side, their hands clasping. "I hope Sir Hew is his usual undecided self," Harriet said. "The longer Maynard has to spend in planning with Dalrymple, the longer you'll be here." Tony had to laugh. "It is good to hear that you have your country's interest in the forefront of your thinking." Harriet blushed. "Is it so wrong of me to wish for you to be near?" "No, my darling, forgive my poor jest. To be honest, a few weeks ago, after the failed attack on Punta Caimán, I thought of giving up the command. I realised that I have given so much to the service and so little to you and the children." "You have given me love, Tony." "Yes, but I kept thinking of Richard. It was a close call, that shot which hit the longboat. The service has many perils, and then suddenly, I had a superior hell bent on having me killed. It just didn't seem tolerable anymore. I told Jonathan. I told him that I had so little to prove anymore in the service, and so much to lose." "Tony, I'll not lie to you. For you to stay at home with us would be by greatest happiness. If you are still in the service to be eligible for me, then you should quit. You have me, and I am yours forever. That's not what drives you anymore, though. You take pride in your achievements and in the recognition from your fellow officers. Giving up the command now, while the outcome of the war is in balance, you would feel miserable. Let us enjoy the time we spend together and hope for peace. Then, nothing will keep us apart." "Peace..." Tony mumbled. It sounded like a word from a foreign language. Excluding the brief interlude after the Treaty of Amiens, the war had lasted for almost fifteen years, and the men of Tony's age barely had an idea of what a world at peace would be like. The concept seemed unreal just like those concepts of paradise in the preachings. It was with that thought that Tony fell asleep, his hand still clutching Harriet's. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 18: Mondego Bay The planning sessions of Admiral Maynard with Sir Hew Dalrymple and other Army officers were indeed plagued by Sir Hew's indecisiveness, and Asia's crew enjoyed a full two weeks at anchor in Gibraltar. Tony made the most of it, spending time with his family, but he also saw to it that Asia received as much repairs and cleaning as was possible. Bilges were fumed, water casks cleaned and refilled, and the seams between the planks carefully patched. When a second week of deliberations loomed, Tony and Captain Masters even had the upper deck and quarter deck guns landed. Lightened by over 200 tons, the ships were carefully laid on their sides, and work groups attacked the seaweeds that had once again accumulated on the copper bottom. Using the ample space available on shore, the sailmaker and his mates aired and patched the two sets of sails, while the boatswain went over the rigging. Once the work on the bottom was finished, new paint was applied while crews worked to install the ordnance again. By the end of the deliberations, Asia and Warspite were once again in an excellent shape. In exchange for the hard work, the crew was granted shore leave by divisions. Even with a crew of pressed sailors, this was possible in a port like Gibraltar where the men would have no place to hide or flee if they tried to desert. This made for an all around good mood which was furthered by the availability of fresh food, clean water, and plentiful wine offerings. Every day, Spanish smugglers entered Gibraltar's harbour, ignoring the Continental Embargo, and earning good money by supplying the British with fresh produce. Once, Dougherty with his Daring had to make a run to Lisbon, to rendezvous with Sir Charles Cotton and to get his approval for the draft plans. It was July when the plans were finalised, and a day later, the squadron sailed for England. A convoy of transports had been assembled, to carry Sir Arthur Wellesley's troops of Copenhagen fame to Central America, to support an uprising against Spain. With Spain on the verge of changing sides, these plans were scrapped, but the Government decided to grasp the opportunity and send all available troops and their leaders to the Peninsula. Sir Arthur Wellesley as most junior lieutenant general, Sir John Moore with his men from the Danish war, also junior, Sir Harry Burrard, and as the most senior officer, Sir Hew Dalrymple. It fell to Maynard's squadron to escort the transports with Wellesley's troops from ports all along the South Coast to Mondego Bay. From what they could glean from despatches, the convoy would be over forty sail strong. Thus, three ships of the line, a frigate and a ship-rigged sloop were adequate for its protection. The three battle line ships under Maynard's command were well suited as they were exceptionally fast two-deckers, with above-standard ordnance. The frigate would wait for them in Portsmouth, on detachment from the Channel Fleet. The winds were accommodating, and the ships' recently cleaned bottoms made for a good turn of speed. Within a week, the squadron entered the Channel. At this point, the ships split up to pick up their charges at the various ports where they assembled. Once ashore, the semaphore telegraph system along the coast would aid in the coordination. Asia was bound for Plymouth where she would pick up six Navy transports carrying provisions, ordnance and ammunition. Another three specialised transports carried the horses of the dragoons while the dragoons themselves sailed in yet another two ships. Tony had never been to Plymouth before, and he found the Hamoaze crawling with shipping and boats. His charges were easily identified, for the stables on the upper decks of the horse transports made them stand out from the other shipping. After paying a courtesy call to the Harbour Admiral Sir Everett Milton, Tony invited the masters of the transports to dinner in a harbour side inn, the Golden Hind. It was important to get an impression of the men and to learn of their state of readiness. The news were good. Of course, the horses were not yet on board, and neither were the dragoons. However, all the stores, ammunition and ordnance had been stowed away already, and the live freight could follow within a day. On the next morning, Tony assembled a short message to Portsmouth, care of Rear-Admiral Maynard, which advised the squadron commander of the state of readiness in Plymouth. The semaphore system provided the answer within a day, advising Tony to weigh anchor on the 17th of July and to unite with the ships coming out of Falmouth, under Daring's lead. The convoy would then rendezvous in Falmouth Bay. That left three days, and those were filled with stowing away horses and dragoons and topping off the water casks. Colonel Marston, commanding the dragoon regiment, accepted Tony's invitation to sail in the Asia, together with three officers of his staff. This afforded Tony with the opportunity to discuss the disembarkation of horses and other issues. Tony already knew that he would be in charge of the initial landing, while Jeremy Masters would take possession of the forts of Figueira da Foz. As specified, the ships weighed anchor on the 17th, already trailing a cloud of stable odours to leeward, and they reached Falmouth in the late afternoon. Dougherty had left harbour already, and the seven ships from Falmouth merged with the eleven from Plymouth while Asia and Daring positioned themselves to windward. Dougherty had been able to fill his ranks in Falmouth, and Daring had almost her full complement. They stayed hove-to over night, and when dawn broke, the mastheads sighted the rest of the convoy. Maynard lost no time at all, and by noon, the assembled convoy was heading to south-west, aided by the prevailing north-westerly wind. Given the limitations of the transports, the horse transporters in particular, the convoy made good progress in the next days. In all but eleven days, they reached a position off Oporto where they met two more ships from Sir Charles' Squadron. The York and other transports were with them, carrying another five thousand troops and also placing a total of almost one thousand Marines at their disposition. Two days later, they rendezvoused a sloop, the Dasher, which carried the commanding officer, Sir Arthur Wellesley. They all met for dinner and planning in Maynard's cabin. Sir Arthur and Tony greeted each other, having met before in London. The dinner was spent exchanging information from the various points of view. Then, over cigars and brandy, Maynard and Wellesley agreed to proceed with the landing immediately. Daring had returned from Figueira da Foz with the news that the fort commanding the mouth of the Mondego River was in the hands of the young gentlemen, patriotic students from Coimbra University. There was no time to lose, and Maynard laid out his plans. "Sir Arthur, gentlemen, this is how I propose to proceed. Tomorrow morning, Captain Masters will land north of the mouth of the river with two hundred Marines and one hundred crew and secure the fort. Those young gentlemen are no doubt brave and patriotic, but I will feel more comfortable with the place in our hands. "Once the fort is in our hands, Captain Carter will land another eight hundred Marines and secure the beach south of the river. This will be our primary landing site, as the shore is sandy and the troops will have a clear road to Lisbon. I am not happy with the expected strong surf, but that cannot be helped. If we land the troops at the town, they have to ford the river, to march on Lisbon. Once the beach is secure, we shall begin to land the first infantry regiment, while our men will erect fortifications and gun placements to secure the landing site." "Admiral Maynard, why do you plan to land your Marines first? I assure you that my troops are quite capable," Wellesley put in. "No doubt of that, Sir Arthur. Our Marines have trained for this since last year. As Captain Masters and Captain Carter can tell you, they have conducted five temporary landings, and in three cases, they fended off superior French forces before they reembarked. It is simply a matter of using the best prepared troops for the initial beachhead." "Of course, Admiral. Forgive my asking," Wellesley nodded. "Not at all, Sir Arthur. Any comments, gentlemen?" Tony cleared his throat and raised his hand. "Sir, from what I learned from Col. Marston, we should best have a pier, to land the dragoons and their horses. To land horses on the beach and in the current surf could prove a lengthy and tiring proposition." "Indeed, Captain! This should be undertaken as soon as we have taken the town and the beach. The horse transports will need to sail upriver where we must erect piers. This will be your most urgent task. I understand that the Dragoons are crucial for Sir Arthur's planned operations." Wellesley nodded. "Very important. I need them for reconnoissance, too." After shuffling the maps, Maynard stood. "Very well, gentlemen. We shall sail for Mondego Bay over night. The landing will commence in the morning. Please, make your preparations. All available boats of the squadron will be needed, but make sure you have spare crews. I imagine this may take a full week." "Such is my experience, Admiral Maynard," Wellesley agreed. "When can we expect Sir Hew Dalrymple and his men?" "As far as I know, his transport is being affected as we speak," Maynard answered evasively. "Sir Hew is, hrhm, very careful in his planning." "Yes, I would imagine," Sir Arthur sighed. "All the more reason to get my troops ashore." ------- This time, they were in position at dawn, as planned. When the sun rose over the headland, the boats with Jeremy Masters and his first wave of marines were already close to the shore. No shot was fired, and they could see the Portuguese flag flying over the fort. After a half hour, the White Ensign was hoisted side by side with the Portuguese colours, and Tony gave the orders to start the disembarkation. His trusted sidekick, Major Applethorn, was at Tony's side when they landed on the beach, after braving the heavy surf. This would be ticklish, Tony conceded. His own launch had taken a lot of water while clearing the last cable length to the beach. Fortunately, the Marines were used to this, and they had held muskets and ammunition above their heads, keeping them dry. Now Applethorn had the men swarm out, taking positions to landward while the boats returned. A second a third wave of marines were landed, and now, Applethorn could report that the beach was reasonably secured. In the meantime, Tony had to deal with the problem of bringing the boats through the surf. When the boats returned, they conveyed his order to take only thirty soldiers instead of fifty, and to double the crews. He hoped this would make the final approach through the surf quicker and more secure. Indeed, when the first of Wellesley's men landed, the changed loading helped the boats considerably, justifying the delays resulting from the changes. The green faced soldiers were more than happy with the solid ground under their feet, and their officers had them march inland immediately, to form a forward post. Two of the boats had also brought a load of specialists, carpenters and boatswain's mates, from the ships. These men set to work immediately, moving to the south where the beach was lined by a forest of pines and other conifers. The sounds of saws and axes could be heard soon, and Tony commanded two hundred of the Marines to take off the uniform coats and to carry the fresh logs to the river arm east of the beach. More and more boat loads of soldiers were landed, almost one thousand by noon, while the work parties toiled to assemble the material for a wooden pier. By early afternoon, enough logs were assembled and the tired work party began the construction. Saws and hammers again sounded over the beach. It was two hours into the afternoon when the first serious accident happened. One of the boats approaching the beach tilted heavily to port, causing the oars on that side to get caught under water. Under this leverage, the boat turned to port and the next heavy roller caught it sideways. The cutter capsized immediately, and the crew and soldiers landed in the strong surf. The boat next to it tried to render assistance, but the struggling soldiers, in their panic, frantically tried to climb aboard. In the end, the other longboat capsized, too, albeit a little closer to the beach. Alerted to the mishap, Tony ran for the beach, tearing off his coat and shoes. Calling for others to help, he waded into the water. Other soldiers and sailors followed, mostly from the boats already landed. Some smart boatswain's mate brought a line, and the helpers were able to secure each other. With the violent waves breaking over them, they were able to help soldiers to their feet. The soldiers were soaked and loaded down with their boots, muskets and provisions, but once on their feet again and steadied by helping hands, they were able to make it to the shore, sputtering and wheezing. Not all were that lucky. Using boat hooks, the men pulled twelve dead from the water, ten soldiers and two crew of the Warspite. Graves were dug hastily, and in an improvised ceremony, the men were buried. In the meantime, the boats continued to ferry soldiers to the beach, and by late afternoon, two complete infantry regiments were ashore. The surf abated a little in the evening, and the tired crews continued their toil until darkness fell. Two more boats had capsized, in spite of all precautions, bringing the total tally to twenty-seven drowned. Fortunately, work on the wooden pier had progressed, and when darkness finally fell, the exhausted carpenters declared the pier ready for use. It was dark, when the last boat took Tony back to the Asia where he spent another hour drafting a report of the first day. Her was so tired he first refused the food Grimes put on his table. His foot hurt again, for the first time in weeks, and he felt miserable over the casualties they had suffered. At least, a jug of cold mint tea found his approval - a half gallon - and he emptied it thirstily. When Jonathan Wilkes knocked, Tony was severely tempted to refuse him entry, but manners won over impulse. Jonathan brought with him a bottle of Jerez Brandy, and after a glass or two, Tony found his balance again. He was even able to eat some of the cold cuts Grimes had served him, and while eating, he developed an appetite and emptied the plate. The Brandy also gave him the sleep he so badly needed, and he never woke before the runner sent from the quarterdeck shook him. "Sir, Sir, five bells, Sir. Sun rise at six bells, Sir." With an oath he sat up, his body hurting all over. "Grimes! Where are you?" he croaked. "Here, Sir Anthony!" his smallish steward hurried to announce, a cup of steaming coffee in his hands. "I brought you coffee, Sir." "Good God, you're a life saver, Grimes!" Tony sighed, smelling the steam first and then taking a first cautious sip. His feature cleared. "Damn it, I needed that!" Come the sunrise, he was on deck, ready to oversee another day of disembarkations. Following the flag signals from Asia, the troop transports shifted their anchorage north, to the river mouth. From there, the first wave of boats took the soldiers to the improvised wooden pier. Tony took his gig, too, and watched as the boats, one after the other, made fast at the wooden structure. At his order, the carpenters landed again, and with the help of work parties from the landed troops, they set to work enlarging the structure. Come the noon, the pier had stood the test, and Tony gave orders for the Dragoons to be landed. This was accomplished by mid-afternoon, and the horse transports were next. Stable boys and soldiers combined their forces to coax the nervous, sea-sick animals over the swinging gangplanks onto the pier, and from there, onto solid ground. It took until late evening before the last horse was landed, but even longer, before the skittish animals had calmed down. Again, it was long dark before Tony fell into his cot, face first, for a few hours of badly needed sleep. With the pier growing, the disembarkation sped up over the next days. By July 6, all the troops were ashore and already reconnoitring the vicinity. Two more days were required to land the field guns, ammunition, supplies, food and other items needed by an army of 14,000. Every last man in the squadron was close to his breaking point when everything and everybody was landed. At one point, Tony had stopped shaving, opting for five more minutes of sleep instead, and he looked like a scarecrow when he made his final report to Admiral Maynard and General Wellesley. They sat under a pavilion on the beach, surrounded by Wellesley's most senior subordinates and toasted the success of the campaign when the general stood and raised his glass. "Gentlemen, may I trouble you to raise your glasses and salute our comrades in arms of Admiral Maynard's squadron?" The Army officers stood dutifully and toasted the dog tired captains. Maynard stood next. "To a successful ending of our common endeavour! Victory in battle and a safe return!" To this, they could all drink. Tony held back. Tired as he was, the wine would go to his head if he was not careful. Wellesley took him aside then. "I shall not fail to let the Cabinet know about the most able execution of the landing, Captain. Your daring rescue of our men will not be forgotten either." "Thank you, Sir Arthur," Tony answered, whipping his brain into action. "It was unfortunate that a rescue was necessary." He was suddenly quite aware that Wellesley was a cabinet minister, a Member of Parliament, and the brother of the former Governor-General of India. "Say nothing, my dear Captain. Though not as knowledgeable in seafaring ways as you are, I could see the adversity of the conditions. To land fourteen thousand troops with a mere thirty casualties is an achievement to be proud of. Please convey my thanks to your officers and crews. I have hardly seen men working harder." "That I shall convey gladly, Sir Arthur." That evening, Tony went to bed in the knowledge that for the time being, his work was done. After waking, he shaved himself with fresh water - a rare luxury - and came on deck in a robe. The startled watch had to rig a deckwash pump, and Tony luxuriated in a thorough dousing with fresh seawater, using soap all over his body. This was something he could get used to, he decided. The men at the pump were grinning too, watching their naked captain gyrate under the stream of water. "Avast pumping," John Little ordered finally, when he sensed that his captain had had enough, and the men rested, still grinning, while Tony dried himself off. He had decided already that this would be a leisure day for him and obviously, Admiral Maynard concurred, leaving his captains in peace until evening. Maynard had them for dinner, though, and they indulged in the fresh food from the shore and in the fine wines Portugal had to offer. He had the next orders, too. The transports were to sail for Sweden, to pick up Sir John Moore's troops which so far had been helping the Swedish fend off the French threat. Warspite was to remain at Mondego Bay, together with Achilles and Caligula, to guard the embarkation point and to initiate the evacuation of Wellesley's troops should that need arise. Malta and Asia, with Daring, were to escort the transports to Sweden. The task was not without risks, as the convoy would have to sail past the Danish Helsingør. Even if they kept to theSwedish side, the distance was less than two miles from the Danish guns; and the Danish had to be carrying a grudge against the British after two attacks on Copenhagen... Maynard decided to give the overworked crews another day at anchor, but they would sail on the 4th of August. When the dinner party broke up, Tony returned to Asia and sat down at his desk, writing a new letter to Harriet. The journey to Sweden would take two months, and then it was questionable whether Maynard's ships would come into Gibraltar. It was more likely that they would be sent back to escort the next convoy. Chances were they would not return to Gibraltar for many months. Their most urgent tasks were now between the Portuguese coast and the English South Coast, ferrying men and materiel for the expedition force. With Moore and Dalrymple's troops, there would be close to 30,000 British soldiers in Portugal before long who needed food, weapons, ammunition, and clothes. A steady stream of transport ships was needed which had to sail past two major French navy ports, Brest and Rochefort, and past one major Spanish navy base, Ferrol. The transports needed protection, and that was the most likely task for Maynard's small squadron. Therefore, with a heavy heart, Tony suggested to Harriet a return to England. In London, she would have her parents' support, and she would be able to open their town house and resume the contact with her many friends. In Gibraltar, she had Lucy, sure, but Lucy would return with her, in all likelihood, and apart from her, there was only Maynard's wife. Tony could not see Asia coming to Gibraltar any time soon, thus defeating the purpose of Harriet stay. Before he sealed the letter, he sent for Jonathan. "Ah, there you are," he said when the good doctor entered. "Care for a Rioja?" Jonathan nodded and sat while Grimes poured a glass of wine for him. "Jonathan, it looks like we have to sail for the Baltic Sea to ferry Sir John Moore's army from Sweden to Portugal. That's two months at least. After that, there's no telling if and when we'll return to Gibraltar. I have written a letter to Harriet, advising her on this situation. I have recommended that she returned to England, rather than waiting in vain for our return to Gibraltar." "And you are telling this to me, because?" "Lucy came along with Harriet under the assumption that we return to port regularly and that Harriet was staying. I want to give you a chance to make arrangements for her." "I assume that I must decide soon?" Tony nodded. "I'll send my letter tomorrow, when that captured cutter is sent to Gibraltar." Achilles had caught a prize, a Guarda Costa cutter, and it would be sent into Gibraltar, for adjudication. It would take the mail, too. Jonathan nodded. "I suppose it's for the best. Damn it, Anthony, the life of a Navy officer is not conducive to a happy marriage." "You speak a sad truth, Jonathan. Let us toast our wives then, and their patience with us." ------- The almost 3,000 nautical miles took a full three weeks to sail. Once they sailed past the Channel, the journey entered unknown waters for Tony. He had never sailed the North Sea before. The long Atlantic rollers he was accustomed to were replaced by the shorter, choppy waves of this shallow sea. They gave Hanstholm, Hirtshals and Skagen a wide berth and only turned south when they sighted Gøteborg on the Swedish coast. Maynard hoped to escape attention by the Danish and their signalling system, and it worked for they caught the Danish at Helsingør unprepared, that is, with their shot-heating ovens cold. Daring led the convoy, Malta kept to starboard of the main body, and Asia covered the rear. Tony held towing lines ready for any ship that may receive damage, but the Danish gunners scored only three hits, two in Malta and one in Asia. A parted stay was all the damage as far as Tony could see. The British army under Moore was waiting for them south of Landskrona, but the Swedish allowed them the use of Landskrona's stone piers for the embarkation. Somehow, the relationships between the British and their Swedish allies had become strained, and the Swedish King was happy to see Moore and his men leave. As always, the merchants of Landskrona were not averse to earn good money from the British ships, and the pursers were were able to supplement the provisions with fresh produce. The embarkation went well, except for the large amounts of "baggage" the troops carried. Loot, in common English. Maynard issued orders allowing the soldiers to bring on board whatever they could carry themselves, but not more. This made for a strange assortment of articles left behind on the quays. The people of Landskrona were unwilling to buy from the soldiers, knowing full well that they could have the loot for free once the British left. While anchored off Landskrona, they were approached by a group of three British frigates. They were part of Admiral Gambier's Baltic Sea Squadron, and they offered additional protection for the initial leg to northward. Maynard accepted gratefully. They would accompany the convoy past the Helsinborg narrows, the most dangerous part of the journey. On the evening before their departure, Maynard felt compelled to host a dinner in the flagship. Tony felt sorry for his admiral. All these dinners had to come out of his pay. His own cabin stores were ample, and his financial situation could only be described as comfortable. By contrast, Maynard lived off his salary, and even if it was a Rear-Admiral's pay, it was limited. Tony had to host one Major-General Mountjoy and his staff in the Asia. This was easy, as the admiral's cabin in the Asia was not in use. Mountjoy was a Horse Guards man and the second son of a Marquess. A bona fide upstart such as Tony was almost below his perception. Tony shrugged it off. After all, he had fought and won three major engagements while in command, definitely more than any of his army counterparts, with the exception of Wellesley. Moore was quite different, Tony found out during dinner. In his late forties, Moore was a soldiers' soldier, a strategist, a planner, and a superb field commander. He eagerly questioned the Navy officers about Mondego Bay and the state of Wellesley's army. Apparently, he had also inspected the Malta and he asked insightful questions about the organisation of the gun decks in battle. Tony was impressed. With both Wellesley and Moore in command of the expedition force, there was a chance to turn the decades of humiliating losses even against secondary French troops into a success. Tony had to describe in detail their "needle prick" landing operations, and the French responses. At one point, Moore remarked that it would be wise to settle on several evacuation ports, should the expedition force or parts thereof find their situation untenable. It was stimulating dinner, as everybody agreed, and Tony returned to Asia in an upbeat mood that not even a rather drunk Mountjoy was able to sour. A boatswain's chair was needed to hoist the general up on deck, and Tony charged the aide-de-camp to see his general to bed. Mountjoy did not show all next day, but the retching sounds from the admiral's cabin told their own story. The convoy was able to steer its norther course with close-hauled sails, and by late afternoon, their sighted the two mile narrows that separated the Swedish Helsingborg from Danish Helsingør. Again, they crept along the Swedish coast, and again, the Danish gunners did their best to cause damage. Their slow progress so close to the wind gave the Danish more time, and accordingly, they scored more hits. One of the transports was hit by two 42-pounder balls, killing twelve soldiers below decks and tearing gaping holes into its sides. Both Malta and Asia responded with their main deck 32-pounders, but it was more like a symbolic defiance. The stone battlements of the coastal defences were a tough nut to crack for ship's guns, and they did little damage if at all. Once they rounded Skagen the next day, the three frigates turned to rejoin Gambier's squadron, and the convoy tacked, now sailing with the north-westerly wind abeam. Their crossing of the North Sea took four days until they reached the Dutch coast, and from there, they navigated through the Channel, heading for Quessant. No corsairs showed, and the convoy turned to south-west at Quessant, to cross the Bay of Biscay. They reached Mondego Bay after twenty days, or a total of fifty-five days after sailing. There, they found that a larger quay had been constructed on the southern side of the river inlet, facilitating quick embarkation. This time, it took a mere five days to land the soldiers and their dunnage. The news they received were very good. It seemed that General Wellesley had soundly beaten the French in two subsequent encounters, at Roliça and at Vimeiro. Supposedly, Marshal Junot had asked for an armistice and negotiations were underway for a French retreat from Portugal. For the English side, Sir Hew Dalrymple would lead the negotiations which were to be held at Sintra, near Lisbon. There was mail, too, both from London and from Gibraltar. He read Harriet's letter first, finding that she had seen his reasoning. She wrote that she had obtained passage in the regular packet to London, with Lucy and the children. They planned to return to London and reclaim the townhouse. Harriet sent her fondest greetings and assured him of her love. It was a weak surrogate for holding her in his arms. Edited by Duffiedawg ------- Chapter 19: Margaret Maynard Takes Command Gibraltar, September 1807 Lady Carter walked the rooms of their rented house once more time, making sure they had not forgotten anything. The furnishings would stay in place as per agreement with the owner of the house against a compensation of thirty-two pounds. This was fine by Harriet, since it freed her of the need to sell the items separately. Seeing nothing left behind, Harriet went downstairs. Jenny was holding Richard on her arm who had woken only a short while ago and was still sleepy. Emily was holding on to Jenny's skirt, looking a bit forlorn, while Lucy was giving instructions to the three porters with their wheelbarrows. "Why don't you put Richard on his feet, Jenny?" Harriet suggested. "He is getting too big for you." "I don't mind, Milady," Jenny smiled back. "Richard and I are great friends, eh, little man?" One thumb in his mouth, Richard nodded solemnly, causing smiles all around. Harriet looked down at Emily. "Hand?" she asked. Smiling shyly, Emily let go of Jenny's skirt and took Harriet's hand. It took them but ten or fifteen minutes to reach the harbour and the pier where the post packet lay moored. Captain Josiah Porter awaited his ranking passengers at the gangplank and he guided them to their allotted cabins in person. Those were not much to talk about, being merely seven by six feet, with two cots, a little over two feet wide, with some nets rigged overhead for storage. Quite a difference from Asia's sleeping cabins, but then again, the Primrose would have fit into Asia's hull seven times over. While most of their belongings were stored away through a hatch under the passageway, Harriet and Jenny, with the children, settled in one cabin, while Lucy arranged her dunnage in another. They were not yet finished when Captain Porter led his next passenger down. Margaret Maynard, too, had decided to leave Gibraltar, her husband having come to the same conclusion as Tony. She would share the cabin with Lucy. That was not the only reason either. Gibraltar's society, as it was, had not been very kind to a commoner girl who had married above her station. She had to bear many snide remarks and snubs, and she had decided she'd had enough. Surprisingly, given their history, Harriet and Lucy had been her foremost company over the last weeks, and Harriet in particular had not shied from defending her former school mate. Unfortunately, this had also precipitated a frosty atmosphere for Harriet herself, and she was more than happy to turn her back on the colony. Later that morning three more passengers arrived. The man was clad in the black frock of a priest, and he was at least sixty years old. With him were two very young women, girls really, wearing very plain dresses and looking about with apprehension. Harriet thought them to be the older priest's daughters or even granddaughters. The priest stared at Harriet, waiting for her to curtsey and introduce herself, but Harriet stood unflinching. Captain Porter resolved the dilemma. "Ladies, this is the Reverent Pettigrew, Mrs. Pettigrew, and her sister, Miss Holland." Harriet had a hard time to suppress her surprise and disgust at this news. Neither woman was even twenty, and one of them married to that austere old man. A terrible thought. "Reverend," Porter continued hastily, "may I introduce Lady Carter, wife of Captain Sir Anthony Carter of Asia and daughter of Admiral Sir Richard Lambert. To her right is Mrs. Maynard, Admiral Maynard's wife. Mrs. Wilkes and Mrs. Johnsen." Pettigrew's head jerked forward by an inch, in a movement that upon benevolent interpretation might be called a bow. In response, Harriet just nodded negligently. Two could play that game. "We shall assemble at noon in the cabin for a service," Pettigrew announced haughtily. "I suggest you Ladies dress more modestly for that occasion." Lucy giggled, Jenny snorted disdainfully, and Margaret Maynard lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise. Harriet gave Pettigrew a cold look. "Reverend, in the interest of a harmonious voyage, I suggest that you mind your station. I am not partial to the tone of voice you are employing while addressing me and my friends. As for the service you plan, a short Grace before the meal should suffice." "I remind you that as a man of the cloth and..." "You will address me as "Milady", Mr. Pettigrew," Harriet shot back, her voice getting colder. "I have heard of you, Mr. Pettigrew, from more than one source, and the circumstances under which you had to give up your parish are well known to me." Harriet had just remembered where she had heard the name before. It was some gossip at Dalrymple's table, but apparently, Pettigrew attempted to spread God's word to the young daughter of one of the merchants, and when they were found, they were both stark naked. A disgusting thought for Harriet, who until meeting the old lecher had assumed the priest in question to be a young man. Pettigrew goggled at her in impotent rage, while his young wife and her sister looked down in shame. Harriet felt with them, and her dislike for the man increased. "Well, a good day, Mr. Pettigrew," she said, turning to return to her cabin. Jenny closed the door to their night cabin behind them. "M'lady, is that the Reverend we've been hearing stories about?" Harriet nodded with a face that showed her disgust. "But, he's an old man!" Jenny expostulated. "Yes, from how we heard the story, I assumed he would be a young and good looking priest, perhaps on his first posting. That despicable man is using his position to coerce young women. I should wager that his wife did not marry him of her free will." Jenny shuddered. "Her sister, M'lady, do you think he uses her, too?" The thought had not come to Harriet yet, but it caused a blush of anger. "Why, you are right in your suspicion. Just remember how cowed they look." "M'lady, if he dares touch me, I'll geld him." Harriet looked at the young woman with a weak smile. She knew that Jenny's words were no idle threat. Already once, Jenny had shown the quickness of her knife. She gave Jenny a grim nod. "You do that, my dear Jenny. I shall keep my pistol ready and primed, too." The atmosphere at the table was frosty. Whenever one of the women tried to speak to the Reverend's wife or her sister, Pettigrew answered for them. They were too cowed to speak up. Harriet thought she saw bruises on the younger girl's wrists, and neither of them dared to look up. It hurt Harriet that she had no handle to do something. After lunch, she stood on the deck, watching the preparations of the crew. Jenny joined her after a few moments. "M'lady, should I throw him overboard once we're at sea?" she whispered angrily. "Jenny, Jenny, there is nothing we can do. The older one is married to that hateful old man, and he owns her." "Yes, but we could try to help the younger sister, Milady," Jenny maintained. "How? Without being able to talk to her in private, how can we make an offer? Besides, she may be here out of her free will. Who knows what family background they have. Perhaps, the older sister wanted to be a priest's wife?" "She does not ... Oh, well, you are of course right, M'lady. As long as he leaves us in peace..." "He better. Oh, there's the Captain." Harriet approached the skipper. "Are we set for weighing anchor tomorrow, Captain?" "Yes, Milady. The last passengers will board soon. I trust your accommodations are acceptable?" "Very, my dear Captain. This is a well-built little ship, and the cabins are more than adequate." The Captain bowed with a smile of satisfaction, and Harriet smirked a little. It was easy enough to make the man happy. For the next hour, she watched the activity on the quay, but then she tired and decided to go below. She heard but did not see the last passengers as they came aboard, but she met them at dinner. Mr. Albert Edson and his wife Abigail were returning to England after escaping to Gibraltar from Lisbon. Mr. Edson was a shipping agent, and he had been a cargo master before. They fit in with Harriet and her group, and they had a lively conversation during supper. The Primrose weighed anchor at sunrise, and when the women came on deck, they were already clearing the Bay of Algeciras. It was a pleasant morning until Pettigrew came on deck, calling all hands and passengers to join him for a morning prayer. Captain Porter made short work of this, claiming that the handling of the ship required all hands and asking all passengers to leave the deck. That meant another confrontation in the main cabin, because Pettigrew insisted on leading a lengthy prayer there. It was Mr. Edson who ended it, reminding Pettigrew that he was neither the ship's chaplain nor currently leading a parish, and thus in no position to represent the Church of England. The look Pettigrew cast at his fellow passengers was murderous. With his swift packet, Captain Porter endeavoured to sail rather close to the Spanish coast line, passing Tarifa in sight and heading straight for Cap Sagres. The small ship was lively in the fresh breeze but none of Harriet's group felt any discomfort. By contrast, the lively motion incapacitated the Reverend Pettigrew, and his wife or her sister were seen frequently as they emptied slop jars over the side. The first time, the younger sister went to the windward side for this purpose, and Jenny was barely able to thwart this potentially disastrous undertaking. Elspeth Holland was a shy girl, even in the absence of her domineering brother in law, but Jenny was able to extract some information from her. She and her older sister Catrina had been orphaned four years ago. No relations could be identified and the parish priest, William Pettigrew, declared himself their guardian. As soon as Catrina turned sixteen, he pressured her into marriage. That had been two years ago, and now Elspeth would turn sixteen, and she would be married to the old lecher's cousin, a parish priest in the Midlands. Jenny could see that the young girl was despairing but also too cowed to put up any resistance. She admitted that disobedience precipitated severe beatings at the hands of the Reverend. During Elspeth's next stay on deck, Harriet intercepted her, briefed by Jenny about the girl's predicament. "Is the Reverend still unwell?" she asked the flustered girl. "Y–yes, Milady, mightily," the intimidated girl answered. "That is fortunate," Harriet stated blithely. "B–beg y–your pardon, Milady?" "I said that is fortunate, for it affords me with the opportunity to speak to you unimpeded." "Milady?" "I hear that you will be married to the Reverend's cousin and that you are unhappy about that prospect." The girl hung her head. "He's so old, and right ugly, Milady." "Do you know letters and numbers, my girl?" "Y–yes, quite well, Milady." "Did a Justice of the Peace commit you to the Reverend's guardianship, or did he just take you and your sister in?" "He said we were sheep of his flock, and he was our shepherd. There was no Justice in the village or anywhere near." "I see. Listen and listen well, Elspeth Holland. You do not have to marry the Reverend's cousin. If you want, you can find work in my household. You'll have a room and board, and two shillings each week, more once you learn your duties. Think about it." "But what about Catrina? He'll beat her if I try to leave." "I'm afraid there is not much we can do to help her. How can you help her anyway if you are married to the Reverend's cousin? You'll be gone, too. Think about it. Talk secretly to your sister. Then, before we arrive in Portsmouth, let me know your mind." The girl looked at Harriet with big eyes, but then she nodded. "I'll talk to my sister, Milady." ------- Over the next two days, Captain Porter gave the Portuguese coast a wide berth, and he rounded Cap Finisterre with fifty miles distance. Beyond Cap Finisterre, there were the Spanish ports of La Coruña and Ferrol, both home of privateers and regular Spanish Navy, and it was better to keep them at a distance. The Primrose altered course to NNE on the morning of the September 3, preparing to cross the expanse of the Bay of Biscay, heading for Ouessant. By mid afternoon, the masthead sang out a foreign sail, bearing SSE, a square rigged ship of three masts. Captain Porter climbed into the mizzen top with his brass telescope to study the sail, and when he climbed down, he ordered another reef shaken out. Harriet was standing on deck with Lucy, Margaret and Jenny, and she approached the captain. "Is it an enemy?" "Hard to say, Milady. Suspicious she is, at the least. Looks like one of those corvettes the French keep building, pocket frigates no less, and awfully seaworthy." "But this is a fast ship, isn't it?" Margaret asked with a touch of worry. "Primrose is fast, but in this fresh breeze the bigger ship has an advantage. They can cut us off from our course, too. Anyway, come the night, we can change course and show them a clean pair of heels. If need be, we can always head for Cork in Ireland." Over the next hours, the foreign sail became visible from the deck, and Captain Porter pressed his mouth together whenever he saw it. Harriet became worried, too, but not overly. If this was a French Navy ship or a privateer, she and the other women would be set free, even if the Primrose was caught. Yet, to wait for weeks for the exchange in her current state was not a tempting prospect. By nightfall, Captain Porter ordered lights out in the ship, and the women settled into their cabins in the darkness. They could not sleep yet and kept talking in the dark. Perhaps two hours later when the western sky was completely dark, they felt the Primrose go about, but to starboard. Harriet realised what Captain Porter planned. He wanted to cross the wake of the pursuer in the dark and sail along the Spanish coast while the foreign ship would watch the sea to the North-west. Suddenly, Harriet saw light filtering through the bulkhead to the adjoining cabin. That was Pettigrew's cabin. Why was he lighting a lamp? Quickly, Harriet stood and found a night gown in the dark. Outside her cabin, she knocked on Pettigrew's cabin door. "Do not disturb us!" she heard. "We are in prayer." "Extinguish the lamp!" Harriet cried sharply. "You are betraying our position to the enemy!" "How can I read the prayers without light? The Lord will protect us, never worry." "You pompous fool!" she stormed, pressing against the door, but it was locked. There, in the dark, she heard Captain Porter. "What is the problem, Milady?" "That fool Pettigrew has lighted a lamp for his blasted prayers!" Harriet fumed. In no time at all, Porter threw his weight against Pettigrew's cabin door and it sprang open. Inside, Harriet could see an oil lamp burning brightly, and the port side window, facing the pursuer was without curtains. "You Goddamned fool!" Porter raged. "I ordered lights out." "Do not blaspheme, Captain!" Pettigrew thundered. "I have missed prayers for days, and no enemy will keep me from proclaiming my faith!" More men came running, attracted by the ruckus. "Throw this old fool into the brig!" Porter ordered. Two sturdy mates dragged the protesting priest away while Porter reached for the lamp to douse it. "Do you think they saw us?" Harriet asked calmly. "I don't know," Porter answered in the dark. "Blast this old fool and his bible thumping!" "Could we perhaps change course again?" "That would not help. Now they will know where to look for us. We'll find out come the morning." Indeed, they found out. When the first light illuminated the eastern sky, the foreign ship was standing only two miles away, following them in hot pursuit. Now they were trapped in the Bay of Biscay. Porter let loose a string of oaths. There was only one hope left, to head for the Gironde estuary where they might find British blockade ships. That would take another day though, and it was doubtful if they could keep the distance for such a long time. The foreign ship hoisted its flag when the sun rose over the horizon, and it was indeed the Tricolore. Through the glass, Captain Porter counted eleven gun ports to each side. Before they even had breakfast, it was clear that the race would not last long. With the wind from the quarter, the square rigged ship was decidedly faster than the two-masted brig. Captain Porter gave orders to throw the cargo, or what cargo there was, in the desperate hope to gain more speed and perhaps find a British ship before the French caught up. The steward served a quick breakfast and even doled out extra food to the passengers, to tide them over the first day of the impending captivity. Meanwhile, Captain Porter assembled the official mail bags and weighed them down with sixpounder shot. When the French corvette drew nearer and nearer and finally fired a shot over the Primrose's bows, he dropped the mail and the signal books over the side. Meanwhile, Harriet and Margaret organised the female passengers. Together with Jenny, Harriet fashioned a hiding place for pistol and powder horn underneath Harriet's voluminous skirts, while Jenny hid a pair of double edged knives under her own skirt. It was all well to entrust themselves to the chivalry of the French officers, but it could not hurt to have an ace or two up their sleeves. Captain Porter then hove to, realising that he could not expose his passengers to gun fire, and soon, four boats were heading for the Primrose. The female passengers were in their cabins when they heard the French boats bump into the side of the ship, and it took some time before there was a knock on the cabin door. Captain Porter stood there with a French officer, and Lucy made big eyes. "Monsieur Bourdichon!" she exclaimed. It was indeed the former second lieutenant of L'Alceste who had been wounded when the Clyde frigate overwhelmed the damaged battleship. "Mizz Goutriche?" Bourdichon asked, equally surprised and unable to pronounce 'Gutteridge'. "Mrs. Wilkes now. My husband is the Dr. Wilkes who extracted the splinter from your leg." "But of corrze!" Bourdichon exclaimed, bowing and kissing Lucy's hand. "I know I owe your 'uzzband my life. I wazz exchanged under cartel, last year, after my wound was 'ealed." "This is Lady Carter, the wife of Captain Sir Anthony Carter," Lucy introduced. "And here is Mrs. Maynard, wife of Admiral Maynard. Mrs. Johnsen is the wife of one of Captain Carter's officers." Bourdichon bowed deeply, kissing more hands. "Let me express ze 'ope zat we can avoid any 'ardships for you. I am 'onoured to provide you wizz my protection." Porter cleared his throat. "They will sail the Primrose to San Sebastian, Miladies. I am sure they will convey you back to British territory as soon as possible. Myself, I must bid farewell. My mates and I will be confined to the corvette, to discourage any attempts to overpower the prize crew." "Zis izz indeed ze case, Mesdames," Bourdichon smiled. "I trust you vill not be too inconvenienced." A scar faced sailor with a red head scarf arrived behind Porter and pushed him away roughly. "Let's go, Cap'n. The boat's a-waitin' fer ye." "Doucement, Edwards!" Bourdichon commanded sharply. The sailor had worried Harriet. He was obviously British, a renegade fighting for the French. Perhaps a prisoner of war who could not stand the incarceration any more. Harriet thought it more likely though that the man had changed sides voluntarily. Bourdichon then explained the rules. Twice a day, they would be allowed to catch some fresh air on deck. Apart from that, they were to stay in their cabins, to 'avoid disturbances', as Bourdichon put it. Harriet's heart sank a little when she realised that months would pass, perhaps her child would be born, before she would see Tony again. With a deep breath, she chased the ghosts away. That afternoon, when they were allowed on deck, Harriet saw the scar faced renegade again. He was manning the wheel and eying the women with a sneer. When they were sent down again, he spoke up. "So you're real ladies, eh? Admiral's wife, eh? Captain's wife, too, eh?" He lifted his shirt and turned, showing them the criss-cross of scars that constituted the skin of his back. "I've a lot o' love fer captains an' their wives. See you later, me doves!" Harriet forced herself to stare back at him steadily. "You try anything, and even your French friends won't protect you. They'll hand you over to the Royal Navy for sure." He grinned and spat. "Them Frenchies'll do that, no doubt, but then, when will I ever get such prime rumps in me hands again? Might be worth it." Jenny appeared at Harriet's side. "I'll tear your piss-poor bollocks off, you swine, if you ever come near me." It was not so much the threat but the icy tone in which it was delivered and the casual use of swear words which made the renegade's eyes fly open. "Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?" Bourdichon asked sharply, appearing from out of nowhere. (What's going on?) "Rien, désolé, le patron," the renegade answered contritely, but Harriet saw hatred in his eyes. (Nothing, sorry, Master!) "This man has been making improper comments and he threatened to molest us," Margaret Maynard said. "Laissez les dames seules, compris!" Bourdichon snarled. "Do not worry. 'e will leave you alone." They left the deck then. After dinner which they took in the main cabin, Harriet and her friends with the children retired to one cabin, reasoning that there was safety in numbers. Harriet renewed the charges in her pistol, and Jenny pushed one of her knives into her sleeve for easy access. To everybody's surprise, Margaret Maynard produced a belaying pin which she had procured for herself while they were on deck. Lucy had no weapons, but she removed all but one underskirt assuring her friends that her unimpeded knee was sufficient weapon for her. Remembering how Lucy had once dealt with Rupert Palmer's advances, Harriet believed it. They agreed on keeping watches. Two women and the children would sleep, while the others kept watch. They would rotate every four bells until the morning. Jenny and Margaret volunteered for the first watch, meaning that Harriet and Lucy could lie down and find some sleep. Nothing happened during the first two hours, and nothing during Harriet and Lucy's watch. Harriet had barely dozed off, shortly after midnight, when a ruckus erupted in the cabin next door where Pettigrew slept with his wife and sister in law. In the weak light of the tallow lamp, Harriet readied her pistol and positioned herself at the door. They heard Pettigrew as he screamed. "Vade retro, Satanas! You vile traitor, leave my pure wife in peace lest the pit of hell will open under you to swallow you whole!" "Pit o' hell? Shut your face you old goat! Yore li'l wenches'll get a taste of a real man. Out of my way, you lubber!" "Over my dead body, you foul fiend!" Pettigrew exclaimed. And then, "Aarrgh!" "As you wish, Reverend," the renegade Edwards laughed. "Arrêtez immédiatement!" they heard Lt. Bourdichon's command. "Imbecile! Ce qu'ils ont fait?" (Stop it immediately! Idiot! What have you done?) "Idiot? Who's an idiot? I've had it with you, you bloody fop!" The sounds of a struggle now sounded from next door. Obviously, the renegade and Bourdichon were fighting. The French lieutenant was their best chance, Harriet knew. "Jenny, we must help him!" she hissed. She opened the cabin door and peeked out. Nobody was in sight, but she saw the shadows of the fighters cast by the light from Pettigrew's cabin. Just as Harriet neared the Reverend's cabin, Bourdichon groaned in pain and sank to the deck, just outside Pettigrew's cabin. Without thinking, Harriet raised her pistol and fired it at the blood-covered renegade. With a curse, the man sank to the deck, too, blood spouting from his left chest. Jenny at Harriet's side was thinking on her feet. Quickly, she pulled the pistol from Bourdichon's waistband and put in on the deck next to his right hand. On first impression, it looked like Bourdichon had shot the renegade. Then she pushed Harriet back into the cabin. With trembling hands, Harriet reloaded the empty barrel of her pistol, while outside, excited voices could be heard and hysterical screams sounded from the next door cabin. Suddenly, Margaret stood, facing each of the women in turn. "I don't know about you, but I don't fancy spending an eternity in San Sebastian. There was a prize crew of seven, including the lieutenant. Two are down already. Two are next door and expecting no danger from us feeble women." Harriet nodded slowly. "They left our crew locked up, so we'd have hands enough to handle the sails. Can we navigate the ship to England?" "I know I can shoot the latitude," Margaret said. "My father taught me to." "I know a few things, too," Harriet added. "How shall we do it then?" "I have my belaying pin. We can go out and pretend to be hysteric. Then I'll sneak up behind one of them and put him down. You have your pistol to force the other into submission. If he tries to fight, shoot him. There will be only three left, and one of them always has to stay at the wheel." "Let's do it then!" Jenny hissed, readying her knives. "Don't shoot, M'lady, if you can help it. Cold steel will be better." Margaret counted on three, and then the three women spilled from the cabin, while Lucy stayed behind to watch over the children. In the barely lit walkway they met with two of the prize crew who were trying to make sense of what they had found. Inside Pettigrew's cabin, the two sisters were crying over the body of the Reverend, and now three more females started a ruckus. Jenny grabbed both arms of one of the sailors and let loose a stream of gibberish, jerking at the man's arms and pulling him around. Now he had his back to Margaret, and she swung her belaying pin ruthlessly. The man barely uttered a sigh as he slumped down on the deck. His partner looked up in alarm, but it was too late. Harriet had already trained her pistol on him and he froze. A second later, the belaying pin sent him into the dream land. Using the men's scarfs and other pieces of clothing, the two sailors were bound and gagged. Just then, Bourdichon began to move and groan and the women froze. "Let's get him into the empty cabin. Lucy can look after him," Harriet suggested. "Let me get Mrs. Edson to help," Jenny whispered, and within seconds a frightened but determined Mrs. Edson helped them to drag the wounded lieutenant into a cabin and onto a cot. They left Lucy with him while Mrs. Edson promised to watch over the children. "All right, time for the next step," Margaret announced. "We need to free the crew. I suppose they are in the hold. I'll go forrard with the lamp. You, Harriet follow me with your pistol." It helped that each of the three women knew their way around ships. While Jenny remained behind to guard the cabins with two of the pistols they had found on the Frenchmen, Harriet and Margaret moved forward until they reached the locked grating that covered the hold. Margaret held the lamp over the opening. "Primroses?" she whispered. "Aye! Who's there?" "Mrs. Maynard. We have overwhelmed four of the prize crew. There are only three left. We need your help." "God almighty! There's a hasp to larboard of the grating, Ma'am. Can you open it?" Margaret did, and with the help of the men below, they opened the grating. Eight men emerged, the entire crew of the Primrose minus the mates. "Listen, you men. There are three Frenchmen left by our reckoning. They're likely keeping watch on deck, and they carry pistols and cutlasses. We have five pistols among us. Who of you knows how to shoot?" Two hands went up, and Harriet handed them two pistols. One of the men sneaked up the hatchway and peered over the sill. He came back. "One man at th'wheel, an' another beside 'im. "Two of you rush the man at the wheel!" Harriet instructed them. "Another two go for the second man. Now, where is the third Frenchman?" "On the forecastle, most likely, M'lady, keeping watch there," one of the shadowy figures whispered. Just then, one of the men at the wheel called out in French. "Maillard, ce qui se passe là-bas?" (Maillard, what goes on below?) Of course, no reply came forth. "Maillard!" No answer. "Merde! Ils sont couchait avec les femmes!" (Shit, he's with the women!" They heard steps on the decks. One of the French sailors was coming. "Ola, laissez un peu de cul plus pour moi!" he laughed. (Hey, leave a piece of ass for me!)" "Take him as he comes down!" Margaret hissed at the men. The French sailor was not even holding his pistol as he came down the hatchway. His feet barely touched the lower deck when he was struck down with a makeshift cudgel. In the weak moonlight that filtered down the hatch, he was bound and gagged. Now was the time to take over the ship. Three men rushed for the forward hatch, while another three waited for a few heartbeats. Then, all men rushed up on the deck. Margaret followed with her pistol ready, but already, the man at the wheel lay helplessly on his back, a knife at his throat, and from forrard came the hail, "We got 'im!" Margaret and Harriet ascended to the deck to take in the situation. "Can any of you man the wheel?" Margaret cried, and two sailors raised their hands. "I guess we better heave-to until we have an idea what course to sail," Harriet opined. "All right!" Margaret called. "Get the fore tops'l in first, you men." Four sailors ran aloft and soon, the sail was furled. "Now the main tops'l," Margaret ordered. "Helm a-lee!" With the leverage of the forward sails gone and only the mizzen sail left, the Primrose hove to all by itself, much like a weather vane. They had another five hours to sunrise, and applied themselves to the task of organising the efforts. Lucy had done what she could for Lieutenant Bourdichon, and he lay in a cot, sleeping under a dose of rum from the captain's stores. Harriet and Jenny checked on the children, but there was little needed to be done. Both Emily and Richard were sleeping blissfully, and for the moment that was the best for all concerned. The three ringleaders, Margaret, Harriet and Jenny, now huddled over a sea chart of the Bay of Biscay. Fortunately, Lt. Bourdichon had entered the noon position into the log book, and together they guessed their current whereabouts by the course steered, the speed logged, and the time since noon. They had been sailing at eight knots for thirteen hours; that meant they had logged a little over one hundred sea miles due east from a point fifty miles north of Gijon. They had to be north of Santander, half way to San Sebastian in other words. The steady western wind drove them further into the bay, even hove-to. A course north by north-west would see them pass Ouessant, even accounting for the leeward drift. It seemed like their best chance. Margaret and Harriet went back on deck. "All right! Quartermaster?" Margaret called. "Aye, Missus!" a man answered in the dark. "We must bring her to north-north-west. All rise! Shake out fore tops'l and main tops'l! One reef each!" The men climbed into the rigging to set the sails. Under once reefed topsails, the ship was safe against sudden gusts of wind. Harriet and Margaret had agreed to play it safe, rather than risking any damage to the rigging. The steady western breeze was strong enough for the Primrose to heel a little to leeward under close-hauled sails, and soon they were under way. Once that was accomplished, a breakfast was organised for the crew who had not seen food for almost a day. The cook was among the crew, and he even produced some hot coffee for the tired people on board the Primrose. Then, two crew members brought the bound Frenchmen forward to lock them into a hold under the fo'csle. They had all come to again, but their heads hurt terribly. Lucy was able to brew some linden bark tea for them, but that was all they could do. By sunrise, a young sailor cast the log while Jenny watched the minute glass. They made five knots. That was not too bad with reefed topsails only and sailing close to the wind. With visibility improving, Margaret and Harriet decided to shake out the reefs. The Primrose lay over a little more, but she also made better speed, six and a half knots according to the log. They had roughly four hundred sea miles to sail for Ouessant; that meant almost three days. Margaret detailed two watches. By agreement, Margaret was in command with Harriet as second, and for lack of own navigation skills, the men of the crew accepted that. Jenny played side kick to Harriet as usual while Lucy and Mrs. Edson were in charge of the children and the wounded French lieutenant. By midmorning, Margaret read from Captain Porter's prayer book, and the bodies of the renegade and of Mr. Pettigrew were cast over the side in a quick ceremony. Immediately afterwards, Margaret detailed Mrs. Pettigrew and her sister to cleaning up the blood in the cabins. They had to be kept busy, plus, nobody wanted to sleep in the stink of decaying blood for the next nights. The first day dragged along like molasses, the endless sea giving them no point of reference for their progress. At noon, Margaret undertook to shoot the sun with the sextant, and her results matched their guessed position by ten miles. By evening, no other sail had been sighted, but the wind freshened up. They put reefs into the topsails for the night, but with the stronger wind, their speed remained almost the same. For Harriet, the third night on her feet was a challenge. She thanked her fortune that the pregnancy was still easy on her, but she was tired from the previous nights. Jenny stayed with her, though, and the two women talked to stay awake. At midnight, Margaret took over, and Harriet sank onto her cot for four hours of much needed sleep. Not even the worries about their perilous situation could keep her awake, and when she was roused, she felt much refreshed. Two hours into her next watch, the sun rose in the East. The lookout in the masthead still could not see any shipping and the wind had moderated again. Harriet roused the crew to shake out the reefs again. Afterwards the log was cast showing a speed of an even six knots. A while after sunrise, the wind began to veer to west-south-west, allowing them to sail with a half wind. This and the hoisting of two stay sails increased their speed noticeably, to almost eight knots. Margaret smiled with appreciation when she showed up to take over from Harriet. For the first time in days, Harriet was able to spend some time with Richard and Emily. Emily was excited over the adventure and she asked more questions than Harriet knew how to answer, but Richard simply cuddled close to his mother, enjoying the comfort. At noon, Margaret calculated their latitude as a little to the north of La Rochelle and the Gironde estuary. Harriet remembered that it was in these waters that Tony had been wounded in battle with the L'Alceste. They were making better progress than anticipated, and they decided to shorten sails during the night for fear of passing the Channel Fleet in the dark. Sailing across the Bay of Biscay in friendly summer weather was one thing, but to enter the English Channel without a true navigator on board would be foolhardy. As it turned out, luck was with them. The First Dog Watch had barely begun when the masthead sang out a sail, bearing due north. Harriet was roused again, and the council discussed the options. Chances were well in favour of the oncoming ship being British. Besides, to turn and flee would provoke pursuit, and they had neither the crew nor the skills to out-sail a man o' war or a privateer. With apprehension, they decided to keep course. Soon, they could see the other ship from the deck, and one of the crew members came running aft. "Missus, I know them sails. That's the old Medusa or my eyes have gone bad." "Are you sure of that?" Harriet almost shouted, and the man nodded earnestly. "She sailed convoy with us, last spring. She..." He stopped because Harriet had begun to laugh almost hysterically. Everybody stared at her as tears were running down her cheeks. "Harriet, are you all right?" Margaret asked. With an effort, Harriet controlled herself. "You know, this is hilarious. Of all the ships on the wide seas, we run into the frigate commanded by my own brother." Soon, they could see that the oncoming ship was a frigate, and that she was flying the White Ensign. Signal flags were flying, doubtlessly asking them for identification. They found the flag locker, but for the life of them, nobody knew how to signal. In the end, they hoisted the Blue Ensign and hove to awkwardly. The Medusa bore down on them to investigate. Harriet could see the foam around her bows, and she saw that the decks were cleared for any eventuality. Andrew knew his business. A cable length to windward, the frigate turned into the wind, too, and a boat was quickly lowered. Two minuted later, an unknown lieutenant climbed aboard the Primrose. He looked around and his jaw almost hit his chest when he saw three women on the quarterdeck, two of them obviously bearing children. "Hrhm! Lieutenant Bellows of His Majesty's Ship Medusa. With whom do I have the honour?" Harriet nudged Margaret. "You are the skipper, you answer," she giggled, and Margaret stood tall. "I am Mrs. Maynard, wife of Rear-Admiral William Maynard. I am in de facto command of this vessel, the Primrose packet. We were captured by a French privateer three days ago and our captain and his mates were taken prisoner on board the privateer. We rose against the prize crew and retook the ship. By the way, this is Lady Carter, wife of Captain Sir Anthony Carter and sister of your Captain Andrew Lambert." The young lieutenant swallowed heavily, no doubt recounting his words to find anything objectionable that might bring him into trouble. "Umh, Madam, who is sailing this ship?" "I am," Margaret said, barely suppressing a grin. "Of course, the crew has been cooperative enough to perform the heavy labour. There is also a wounded French officer who would benefit from the attention of a skilled surgeon, so I must impress on you the need to inform Captain Lambert presently." "Umh, yes, Madam, only..." Fortunately, the situation resolved quicker than the wits of the lieutenant would let expect. On the Medusa, the Captain's gig was lowered, and two minutes later, Captain Andrew Lambert was holding his sister in his arms. He had recognised her through his glass and rather than waiting for a report from Lt. Bellows, he had himself rowed over. Another ten minutes after, the ship's surgeon of Medusa was looking after the poor Lt. Bourdichon while Andrew listened to the outrageous tale of capture and recapture as told by no fewer than seven women. Andrew was flustered over meeting Lucy, but the story was so outlandish that he overcame his embarrassment. He quickly took steps to help. A proper prize crew under his First Lieutenant was detailed and the French prisoners were taken into custody. Lieutenant Moody took stock of things, and by nightfall, the Primrose was refitted. Andrew's first notion was to transfer all women on board the Medusa, but common sense prevailed. The packet could host the women in far better comfort than it was possible in an overcrowded frigate. Under the command of Lt. Moody, the Primrose shadowed the Medusa on her northbound course, and they reached the Channel Fleet with sunrise. Sleeping undisturbed for the full night did wonders for Harriet and her friends. Andrew reported to the Commander in Chief, and it was no surprise that they all received invitations to dine in the Flagship at noon. Jenny begged off, feeling she did not belong with 'all the gentlemen and nobles', and Harriet left the children in her trusted care. Mrs. Edson felt it unfitting for her to attend the dinner while her husband languished in captivity, the young Mrs. Pettigrew was in mourning, and her sister was afraid. That left Margaret, Harriet and Lucy to attend, and they rushed through the effort to make themselves presentable. Lord Gardner's own barge carried them over to the Hibernia, a huge first rate ship of the line, and they found Lord Gardner's most senior captains at the table. Andrew was the only frigate captain, senior only to His Lordship's flag lieutenant. They had to retell their story again over the first courses, and Harriet let Margaret do most of the telling. After all, it had been she who had come up with the idea to retake the Primrose. It could not be helped that it came out that Harriet had indeed shot the renegade sailor after he had stabbed the French lieutenant. To this, Andrew could add that the wounded officer who was slowly recovering had given the name of the renegade as Thomas Edwards. Lord Gardner listened to all this with a weak smile, moving only with an effort. He was an ailing man, 66 years of age, and clearly on his last command. Yet, Harriet saw that he must have been an extremely good looking man in his younger years when he had been a famous frigate captain. He praised the women warmly. Of course, he knew Harriet's father and her former father in law, and he also commented favourably on Tony's feats. It was a pleasant occasion for all present. By early afternoon, the Primrose with Harriet and her friends squared away to sail for Portsmouth. Lord Gardner had the prize crew replaced with officers from one of the auxiliaries, to give the Medusa her full complement back. Andrew was sailing south to look for the French privateer and to alert the forces at Rochefort about the threat. The passage to Portsmouth took a mere two days since the wind was ideal. Under proper command and handling, the Primrose was indeed a fast sailor. Harriet spent those days in the main cabin, writing letters to Tony and her parents, detailing the events since their sailing from Gibraltar and assuring them of her perfect health and well being. Those letters were posted immediately, when they arrived in Portsmouth. Harriet found it convenient that Andrew had taken over their Portsmouth house. His housekeeper made big eyes when Harriet demanded entry, showing a billet from Andrew, and had her arrange for no fewer than seven women and two children. Food was ordered from a nearby inn, and the women easily settled for their first night back on English soil. A runner from the Harbour Admiral passed an invitation from Admiral Lord Bromford, to 'allow His Lordship the pleasure to dine in the Ladies' presence and receive first-hand accounts of their Ladyships' perilous journey'. They all worked together to get their dresses into a state fit for a dinner at His Lordship's quarters, in the Navy Yard. Harriet and Margaret had only cursory knowledge of Bromford. He had served on the Halifax Station, the Baltic Sea, and as Governor of Mauritius. His reputation was that of an insightful administrator, but not necessarily that of a fighting sailor. It was unnerving to enter the dinner hall to the cheering of the assembled Navy Officers. Harriet felt clumsy and awkward with her growing bulk, and she had to drag a scared Jenny along, following Margaret who had been their skipper. Harriet discomfort was alleviated by the beaming pride Margaret displayed when Lord Bromford quickly read from Lord Gardner's report and from the report Margaret had prepared under an amused Andrew Lambert's tutoring. Lord Bromford expressed his confidence that this 'first report by a Lady Skipper' would find its way into the Gazette, a feat unparalleled so far. He then said jokingly that the self-styled emperor in Paris should despair over his hopes of ever conquering the Royal Navy, for even if he surmounted the officers and men of the service, he would still be opposed by the 'unsurmountable women this land can boast of'. Harriet had already sent a letter to her parents, advising them of her arrival in Portsmouth. The house in London was still rented and would remain occupied until January. Therefore, Harriet invited all her friends to join her in High Matcham. Knowing their husbands to be out at sea for months to come, Lucy and Jenny gratefully accepted. Even Margaret decided to accept the invitation for now, as she would either have to live alone or with her husband's parents; neither choice a tempting proposition. Catrina Pettigrew and her sister also joined Harriet's party. The latter feared that Pettigrew's cousin would still claim her for his wife, but Harriet promised her protection. They set out two days later with two carriages and another wagon for their luggage. The short delay had sufficed to give fair warning to Nadine Blacket, and the manor house was ready for them when they arrived, tired and a little cold. It felt good to be back. Harriet truly cherished their country seat, and now, with autumn colouring the leaves red and golden, the landscape was a treat for their eyes. Nadine's cooking was welcome, too, and they feasted on delicacies such as fresh pork roast with potatoes, and they had apple pie with their afternoon tea. Mr. Brown reported to Harriet that returns would be good this year as the harvest of barley and wheat had been plenty and of excellent quality. The only thing he did not succeed in was to rent out Woodbridge Manor. Two prospective tenants had reconsidered in the last minute, and Brown found out later that they did not have the funds for the lease anyway. Harriet decided to have a look at the property, and together with her friends, she made the short journey on the next morning. Woodbridge Manor looked lovely, as it lay in the early autumn sun, and Harriet felt bad about its uninhabited state. The other women, save for Jenny, saw it for the first time, and Margaret Maynard took a real liking to it. When Harriet explained that she had found no tenant for the house yet, Margaret turned silent for the rest of the visit. Meanwhile, Mr. Brown was making the most of the occasion. He was a well respected man around Matcham, with a good and steady income as the caretaker of two decent sized properties. Yet, he was alone. The young woman he had courted had left Matcham quite suddenly for a destination unknown, and the rumours were that she gave birth to a child out of wedlock while living with an aunt near Luton. Now, right out of the blue, there were two young women, one of them the widow of a priest and the other her sister, who lived with Lady Carter. Catrina Pettigrew was a shy and pretty woman, and she wore black, but she seemed to show interest when he explained about his work for the Carters. However, she would have to wait for a year before she could remarry. Things were different with the younger sister. She was pretty, too, and younger. He found her rather skinny for his tastes, but she had a wonderful smile. She was sixteen, of marriageable age, and he learned that she was afraid that the elderly cousin of her brother in law's might still claim her. That evening, Jonas Brown steeled himself and showed up at High Matcham, asking Lady Carter for an interview. She received him in the tea saloon, off the hallway, and he bowed first before he stated his business. "M'lady, I would ask you about young Miss Holland and whether you will object to my courting her. I've spoken to her for a bit today, and I find her very pretty and well bred. You see, my intended bride left Matcham a year ago and in shame it seems, without my doing, if I may say so, and I feel it is time for me to find a good and honest wife." "Oh dear," Harriet responded, surprised over this turn of events. "Of course, neither Miss Holland nor Mrs. Pettigrew depend on my approval for anything, but I promised them my protection. I know and respect you, Mr. Brown, and if you have honourable designs with the girl, I shall certainly not stand in the way. You have to know, though, that she must be in agreement." "I would not have it different, M'lady. With your leave, I would court the girl properly, and in the presence of her older sister." Harriet smiled benevolently. "You are welcome then, to woo the maid. Just treat her gently and with respect. Why don't you join us for dinner from now on? That should provide you with ample opportunity." Brown gave Harriet a look of deep gratitude. "I should like that, M'lady," he said earnestly. Later that evening, Harriet was in for another surprise. Margaret Maynard joined her, after the others had gone to bed. "Harriet, I have been thinking all day. You said you cannot find a tenant for the manor house we visited today. I think it is lovely, and I would much prefer it to the house we have rented in London. Here, I could ride on horseback, walk the fields and meadows and, well, be away from all the wagging tongues. How much rent were you asking for the manor?" Harriet thought quickly. Brown wanted to lease it for £300 per year, but he had not found a tenant willing to pay that much. Besides, Harriet knew that Margaret and her husband were not well off, quite in contrast to Tony and herself. The properties were turning in a good profit, even without the manor leased. Perhaps, she should give Margaret a leg up. "We tried to lease it for £240, but Mr. Brown has not found a tenant willing to pay that much. I fear I will have to lower the asking lease to £200." She could see Margaret's eyes lighting up. "That's even less than what the London house costs us. Harriet, could you hold the property for the time it takes me to write to William and get his approval? It could also be a place for my father to return to. It's reasonably close, both to Portsmouth and to London." "Yes, Tony and I are both very partial to it. The country side can grow on you. So, yes, please do as you propose. Write to your husband and find out if he can agree. I'll advise Mr. Brown to stop seeking tenants." "That is very kind of you, Harriet. It would seem that I finally get my wish fulfilled." She would not continue and Harriet dutifully asked. "Which wish, pray?" "To be your friend." Thanks to readers Steve, Andrew, and Sam for alerting me to typos and other screw-ups. ------- Chapter 20: A Stormy Engagement Off the Portuguese Coast, October 1808 Captain Sir Anthony Carter sat at his desk, going through the mail. One of the fleet auxiliaries had arrived two hours earlier, bringing despatches and mail to the squadron. Nothing looked like official orders, and therefore, Tony chose to read his private mail first. As usual, he picked Harriet's latest letter first. It was thicker than usual since she had included newspaper articles and even a Gazette article. He unfolded the letter and began to read. My dearest Husband, firstly, let me assure you of the excellent health and wellbeing the children and I enjoy. I do not know if you heard about the fate of the Primrose. If you did, I fear that you had to be worried, and I trust that this letter will ease any fears concerning your family. Rather than telling the story in full detail, I have included a copy of the article that appeared in the Naval Gazette. I am confident that your experience will allow you to fill in the gaps. Suffice to say that owing to bad luck and even more the utter asininity of a fellow passenger, the Primrose was taken by a French privateer and that poor Captain Porter and his mates were shifted over to the French ship while a prize crew took possession of our package. It was none other than your old acquaintance Lt. Bourdichon (you surely remember him as the wounded second lieutenant of L'Alceste) who was prize master, and sure enough, he treated us with utmost politeness and consideration. Alas, among his prize crew was an English renegade by the name of Edwards, a repulsive individual to be sure, who hounded us with lewd remarks and who, during the first night, broke into the cabin of Reverend Pettigrew, our wit- and hapless fellow passenger who traveled with his young wife and her sister. His motivations were of the basest nature, and when the Reverend opposed him in his pompous way, the rascal stabbed the old fool to death. Before he could follow his evil designs on the young women, Lt. Bourdichon came to the rescue, but he too was stabbed cruelly by the villain. Knowing Lt. Bourdichon to be our protector, Jenny and I had left the cabin, armed as we were with my good pistol and with Jenny's wicked knives. This was no foolhardiness on our part, my dearest husband, for we feared the worst at the hands of the base traitor and we thought it best to confront him soonest. Indeed, he was just coming up after stabbing the poor lieutenant (who is recovering as we hear) when I shot him dead. This was not the first time, as you know, that I used a pistol, and my hand was as steady as my resolve to protect our children and my friends. It was then that Margaret conceived the idea to retake the prize. We surprised the two sailors who came to investigate the noise of my pistol shot, and then we freed the crew from the hold. The remaining three Frenchmen were easily subdued, and Margaret took command as the only one of us who knew navigation. We were indeed able to sail the Primrose northward for two days before we encountered your old frigate, the Medusa, of all ships! Andrew is still in command and he took over with all the efficiency I expected, and by the next noon, we were dining in Lord Gardener's cabin, being toasted by the officers until our blushes became a permanent complexion. Fortunately, Margaret is receiving most of the praise, for her expert navigation and bold leadership, and she may yet earn prize money before her husband does! The newspapers have picked up the story, using it to ridicule the French over loosing a ship to four women, and Margaret basks in the glory of our achievement. Before it became too much, I saw to it that we moved to High Matcham. We caught the tail end of the autumn with the leaves turned to gold already, and it was a most welcome sight after the white washed walls of Gibraltar. Margaret Maynard accompanied us, and I have to report that she fell in love with the renovated manor house of Woodbridge. Mr. Brown has not been able yet to find acceptable tenants, and seeing that the asking lease may be forbidding, I have offered Margaret the lease for £200. I suppose it cannot be bad to have your squadron commander for a tenant, and that may be worth more for you than an extra £50 per year, for I cannot see the property leased for more than £250. I believe we can well afford a little generosity because Mr. Brown reported excellent returns for the properties as you can ascertain from the report I have included. We have also located a midwife, over in Reading, who is of excellent repute and who is willing to spend the next weeks at High Matcham to look after me and Jenny. With her and with Lucy to care of us, I am very confident that my second birth will go well, even if I have to make do without your loving embrace and unwavering support. You should perhaps advise Mr. Johnsen that his wife is healthy, too, and in excellent spirits. Needless to say, Jenny will be well taken care of, and I look forward to hearing the sounds of two infants in the house! My darling husband, this is where I close for today. Please find included Mr. Brown's reckoning and a number of newspaper articles which detail our little adventure. I am back to the safety of High Matcham, but my heart is with you, hoping and waiting for your return. I cannot wait to close my arms around you again, but in the meantime, I shall use all my love on the children. Be careful in your endeavours, my dearest! Your loving wife Harriet Tony shook his head when he ended reading the letter. What a story! He turned to the clipped newspaper articles, and a healthy chuckle broke from his throat. The writers had not held back on ridicule for the French, for losing a ship to four resolute women and wives of Navy Officers. There was even a cartoon showing Bonaparte running before four cutlass-wielding women. The propaganda machine of the British Government had its field day, it seemed. Still, Tony could not help but feel a pang of bad conscience. Harriet had been in danger, his son had been in danger, and his unborn child, too. It had been foolhardy to have them travel by ship in times of war. It would be better for Harriet to stay safely in High Matcham or in the London town house which Tony still had to see. The other pieces of news were less than encouraging. There was an uproar at home over the Convention of Sintra, where Dalrymple and Burrard had agreed to the free withdrawal 'with baggage' of the French Troops in Portugal. Literally foaming with rage, Sir Charles Cotton had been compelled to ferry the French troops with their loot to Rochefort, as such was the agreement. He only refused to obey one condition of the treaty, to let the blockaded Russian ships leave Lisbon, insisting that naval matters were not within the authority of Dalrymple or any other Army general. The last Tony heard, they had reached a compromise whereby the Russian ships would be chained in an English harbour, but remain under Russian command. All this had enraged the British public, and angry mobs demanded that the generals who had signed away the victory should face a court martial. Indeed, the government had commanded Dalrymple, Burrard, and even Wellesley home, even though the latter never agreed to the Convention nor signed it with his name. Tony's suspicion was that the government wanted to rid itself of two generals who through their ineptitude were causing embarrassment, while performing a public white washing of the third who was viewed as one of two or three soldiers with a future. Meanwhile, Sir John Moore was in supreme command of the British troops, and that was not a bad thing, for a new threat loomed. Napoleon himself was preparing to enter Spain at the head of a 200,000 strong army, if rumours were to be believed. Sir Charles Cotton was fuming already that it would have been only 170,000 if Junot's Portuguese army had not been ferried back to Rochefort. Somebody would have to do much answering over the Sintra Convention. Maynard's squadron had accompanied another convoy with supplies and was getting ready for the return voyage to the English ports. With the Spanish in open revolt against their former French allies and Joseph Bonaparte gone from Madrid, the British government was getting ready to support the local Spanish juntas which had replaced the weak central government under Godoy. If Napoleon could be busied on the Peninsula, the continental allies of Britain, led by Austria, might have a chance at forming a new coalition. Now the transports were readying for yet another run to the English ports, to pick up supplies and replacements for Moore's army. Maynard was trying to get Cotton's approval for the ships to put into Portsmouth. There had been much wear on the squadron over the past months and bosun's stores were getting low. With the winter looming ahead, it would be advisable to stock up. Yet, Tony could also sympathise with Cotton who wanted to keep his ships on the Portuguese and Spanish coasts. Tony was philosophical. Even if they were granted a short spell in Portsmouth, there was little chance of him travelling to High Matcham, to see Harriet. He did not want Harriet to make the journey either in her advanced state, and so Portsmouth did not hold quite as much appeal for him. He heard steps on the companionway outside, and a few heartbeats later, a knock sounded. "Come in!" It was Midshipman Uxbridge. "Sir, signal from Flag: Prepare for sailing by daybreak." "Very well, Mr. Uxbridge, kindly send for Mr. Laughton," Tony replied. Laughton appeared less than a minute later, and Tony related the orders. "Not much to do, Sir," the stoic lieutenant answered. "I shall have the shore leave cancelled for tonight. Water came in yesterday, and we're finished with the repairs in the mizzen top." Laughton was a very efficient First Lieutenant. Not once since Dougherty took over his own command had Tony felt the necessity to criticise his new second-in-command. Laughton was just like that - efficient. Tony feared he would never be one of those officers who can inspire their subordinates, but for a First Lieutenant, dependability and stoicism were good traits indeed. "Excellent, Mr. Laughton. About those cracks in the foretop, are they getting worse?" "No, Sir. Mr. Poole had the spar wound tightly with Nº2 rope. It should hold until we get some harbour time." "Put that on your list as the first task once we put into a harbour. That, and to get decent reserve spars. I cannot believe the superintendent in Portsmouth gave us rotten spars as reserve." Laughton shrugged with equanimity. "We fitted out after Trafalgar, Sir. I should think good timbers were hard to come by, after all the repairs on Nelson's ships." "You are likely correct in that deduction, Mr. Laughton. Nevertheless, we need to correct that. Will you and the other gentlemen of the wardroom grace my table tonight for a dinner? I believe we shall have a rough crossing, and it may be our last chance for a decent meal in a while." "Certainly, Sir Anthony! I shall relay your invitation." The idea had come to Tony spontaneously. The Bay of Biscay would be rough sailing this time of the year, and the Channel would not be better. Cold cuts and biscuit would be his sustenance, and one last decent dinner would have to tide him over until they reached port. By evening, written orders from Maynard supplemented his flag signals. The transports would be escorted to Portsmouth and released for the most part. Only three of them would return to Portugal with supplies for Moore's army. Most of the transports would sail with ballast but four had taken cargo. The captains and Maynard had each invested £200 in a cargo of Port Wine and Sherry, the first to reach England in this year. Any wine merchant in England would snatch up that cargo for twice as much, and the risk was moderate. Tony had proposed this and Maynard jumped on the idea eagerly. He had earned some prize money in the past months, mostly due to Dougherty's exploits in Daring, but to double that money was too tempting to resist. The most important information was that they would sail for Portsmouth. Although Tony hoped for some harbour time, perhaps allowing him a brief visit to High Matcham, he was skeptical. They would stay for as long as it took to load the supplies on the transports, and that meant five or six days. The ships were sound and did not need major repairs. No, he decided, chances to see Harriet were marginal. ------- Tony was standing on his quarterdeck, letting his telescope sweep around to take in the ships of the convoy. As had to be feared, the Bay of Biscay was showing itself from its worst side, with gale force winds and lashing rains. Although the direction of the wind - due west - was ideal for the convoy, they made little way under their doubly reefed topsails, for showing more sails was not advisable for the transports. As it was, the smaller ships were tossed about badly and Tony felt sympathy with the wounded soldiers on board the transport ships. The foul weather had begun when they rounded Cape St. Vincent. Now in the fourth day of storm, even hardened sailors showed ill effects, and the two surgeons were busy enough to splint broken arms and legs. They had lost three men already who lost their footing and fell over the side. In the current conditions, no attempt for rescue could be dared, even if the men could keep above water for even a few minutes. Less than one-third of the crew could swim, and to swim in the violent sea would have been impossible for even good swimmers. Some of the empty transports made a maddening leeway as well as lying over badly, and Tony suspected that their captains had not loaded sufficient ballast. It was a chore to empty the hold again, and many skippers did not want to expose their crew to the tedious work. They were all paying for that laxness now, as the convoy was blown towards the French coast. Rounding Ouessant might become a problem even, and Tony did not envy Maynard for the task of keeping the convoy in some semblance of order. Dougherty in his Daring bore the brunt of the situation. The former corvette was the most seaworthy ship of the squadron, and she hustled to and fro between their charges, sometimes even firing her guns to extract compliance. Tony wondered how Lt. Malloy would see this, having been in command of such a transport before he became 1st Lieutenant of Daring. What goes around comes around, he thought. The snap when Tony closed his telescope could not be heard over the infernal noise of the wind and waves. Mr. Prince had the watch, and Tony watched him for a few minutes. He had grown into his role nicely. If only his overbearing High Chamberlain could be lost, he would be just a normal, efficient and ambitious young officer. Looking at the log book, Tony tried to guess their position. They had not seen the sun in five days, five days without an exact navigation. He had to guess their drift and rely on the log casts which were hardly exact under the current conditions. Somewhere in the constant noise, Tony's ear picked up something that stuck out. He looked at Mr. Prince who had also heard something. Tony walked over, cautiously watching the waves. "Cannon shot, Sir?" Prince asked. "Likely," Tony shouted back. The lookout in the masthead was shouting something, but they could not hear. "Get the man down, Mr. Prince and send up a replacement," Tony ordered impatiently. Soon the man was standing in front of them, dripping wet from the rain and spray. "There's four sail, Sir, coming up from aft. Full-rigged ships and big 'uns." Four sail coming up from aft could only hail from Ferrol. The current wind would not endanger the British ships blockading that Spanish port, and if it did, they would still not sail due north. If they were not British, they had to be French or Spanish. The Spanish navy ships had mostly fallen into Napoleon's hands, so either way those ships were likely enemies. French ships blockaded in Ferrol using the bad weather for a run to La Rochelle or even Brest, was the most likely explanation. "Mr. Prince, kindly make signal, Asia to flag: Enemy in sight, due south. Four sail." Prince made big eyes for a moment, but then he sprang into action. Only a few minutes passed before the flags rose on the halliard, accompanied by a signal gun. A little while later, a signal flag rose on board the Malta. "Flagship acknowledges, Sir," Prince reported. Doubtlessly, Maynard had somebody climb into the masthead to take a look before he decided on any action. Whatever Maynard did, he wasted no time. Not ten minutes had passed when flags rose on the Malta. "Flag to convoy: 'Proceed to next British port, make more sail," the signal midshipman reported. Then, another ten minutes later, another line of flags rose. "Flag to squadron, 'Form battle line, prepare for action.'" "Very well, Mr. Prince, beat to quarters, if you please!" Tony gave this command with his calmest voice, yet he felt excitement well up. An engagement under the current conditions would be chancy. There was no way they could open the lower deck gun-ports, unless ... Contrary to traditional tactics, the windward position would not offer advantages. The ships would by lying over to leeward, and the ship in the windward position would see its lower deck ports flooded. In addition, the guns would point downward, almost into the sea. The leeward ship would have problems, too, such as running the guns out against the tilt of the deck, but at least they could fire. Tony was so engrossed with his plans that he almost jumped when Laughton saluted in front of him. "Ship cleared for action, Sir. Eight minutes and thirty-five seconds, Sir." "Very creditable, Mr. Laughton, under the current conditions. Please see to it that the officers on the lower deck know to shift crews to the windward side. The leeward side will be out of action, I fear." Laughton nodded. "I'll let them know, Sir. The wind's moderating a little, I fancy." "We'll take what we get. Let's take down the top hamper. If we get hit in the rigging, it will be bad enough with just the top masts, and there's no way we can show t'gallants in this gale, even when it's moderating. We'll roll less that way, too." "Aye, aye, Sir!" While the four ships were making their way to meet the suspected enemy ships, the Asia's crew worked hard to get down the royals and topgallant yards, followed by all the standing rigging above the topsail yards. Tony knew he was running a slight risk. If the wind moderated considerably, Asia's speed would be impaired. Yet, he reasoned, a moderation of the wind would not happen shortly, giving them time enough to bring up the top hamper again. "They're following our example, Sir!" Laughton announced. It was true. Both Warspite and Malta were changing their appearance as their crews followed Asia's lead. Tony directed his telescope to where the approaching ships were. There was no sign of them following suite. The ships were hull up now, and Tony could see that they were men of war; two-deckers three of them, and a smaller full-rigged ship, likely a frigate. "About an even match," Laughton mumbled, "But hot work for the Daring." "The frigate does not look like one of their big ones," Tony answered, "but yes, hot work. They can't be out of Ferrol for more than three days. I'll wager half their crew are seasick and ... Now, that's interesting!" What elicited Tony's exclamation was that the approaching ships were almost going before the wind in an obvious attempt to evade the British squadron. They had been heading for Brest, Tony reasoned, but now they opted for their fallback, La Rochelle. He swallowed. Would he have to fight off La Rochelle again? The first battle happened only three and a half years ago, but it seemed like a lifetime since the encounter between his beloved Clyde and L'Alceste. So much had happened since then, not least of all in his personal life. Back then, he was in a loose affair with Anita Heyworth and only beginning his reconciliation with Harriet. He shook off those thoughts. Three British sails of the line and one flush decked sloop could handle three French battleships plus a frigate any day. "Signal, Sir: 'From flag, give chase, '" the signal midshipman reported. "Acknowledge signal, Mr. Uxbridge," Tony ordered. "Mr. Laughton, we'll go before the wind. Have the relief tackles manned! Running before this gale will be taxing for the quartermasters." Indeed, the usually well behaved Asia turned into a wild beast when she caught the wind from behind. Sailing down into the troughs between the huge Atlantic rollers caused a sickening sensation, and the climb up on the back of the next roller was agonising. Right now, they were going just a tad faster than the waves; anything more, and they might just run the bows under a wave and founder. Yet, going slower would be risky, too, for their stern was the most vulnerable part. It was like a ride on the back of a tiger. Tony judged their speed and that of their chase and reached the next decision. "Mr. Laughton, kindly have food and water doled out to the crew. This may take longer." Indeed, for the moment the two squadrons were sailing on courses that would only converge much later. Neither side could increase their speed for fear of running under a wave, but the prevailing wind would make an encounter very likely. There was nothing Tony could do in this moment, he realised. "Have me called should the situation merit it, Mr. Laughton," he told his Nº 1 and disappeared aft. Of course, the gun crews had taken over his cabin, but his steward was able to serve him a late luncheon. John Little was also there, helping Tony into dry clothes. He felt infinitely warmer and more comfortable when he sat down to eat. There was no way to get coffee in a ship that was cleared for action, but Giles, the steward, had added fresh lemon juice to a jug of water from Tony's personal, 15-gallon, cast iron water tank. The water kept fresh much longer in that tank than in the usual wooden water casks, and it satisfied Tony's drinking water needs for a month. Now, the water was barely a week old and it still tasted fresh. After his meal, he allowed himself a half hour of repose in a hammock, while the grinning gun crews tried not to disturb their captain. As always in cold and stormy weather, Tony's leg was hurting again, and the brief rest was sorely needed. It also did wonders for the morale. Within minutes, word spread through the ship that the Captain was snoring away all the while they were in hot pursuit of an enemy of equal strength. Things couldn't be too bad, could they? Asia's crew was seasoned after three years, but they had not seen any ship-to-ship action yet. Tony's obvious calmness helped to soothe nerves. The guns were still secured, and seeing the example of their captain, the officers allowed the men to rest on the deck. Some scrambled to their feet when Tony swung his legs back on deck when the next bells sounded, but he motioned for them to stay resting. They would need their strength later. After ascertaining that they had come marginally closer to their chases, he went back to his hammock. He closed his eyes, seemingly asleep, but in his mind he played through the possibilities and options. It would be a running battle, with the French trying to reach La Rochelle rather than turning to fight. Tony knew of the risks of such an engagement. Sir Robert Calder has lost his good reputation in a similar situation when the French managed to give him the slip. Yet, they were also hurtling towards a lee coast before an autumn gale. Before his mental eye, he envisioned the coast line around La Rochelle. He had spent months there in the Clyde, patrolling the approach to the harbour. If Maynard contrived to position himself due north of the French, he could force a battle before they could round the Isle d'Oleron. Then there was the chance that the French ships could try for Bordeaux or at least the Gironde estuary. That approach was tricky from the southern direction, necessitating a jibe at the right moment. The northern approach was easier, but narrow. Tony doubted that Maynard would follow the French into those coastal waters. It would be too difficult to escape the coastal batteries afterwards. Afternoon turned into early evening, but at least the wind moderated somewhat. The squadron was able to form a haphazard battle line, and shortly before dark, a signal to make more sail was hoisted. Followed by Asia and Warspite, Malta shook a reef from her topsails. It was obvious that Maynard aimed to catch the French before they could reach the coast. Asia took a lot more water now when she crashed into the back of the rollers, but over the next hours, those rollers diminished, and by early morning, a second reef could be shaken out. Now they were hurtling before the still stormy winds under single-reefed topsails, and when the sun rose behind the heavily clouded sky it became clear that they had out-sailed the French. A cold breakfast was doled out to the men while the situation unfolded. The British ships were now a sea mile north and a little ahead of the French ships. Maynard could force the battle at any given time point by laying rudder to east-south-east and closing the gap. The French could not escape to the South, there being no harbour south of the Gironde estuary for two-hundred leagues. Maynard's next signal showed that he shared Tony's view. "Flag to squadron, 'Course ESE, engage enemy in battle line, ' the signal midshipman read out. "Quartermaster, two points to starboard! Mr. Laughton, kindly have the guns loaded but not yet run out. Have burning fuse distributed along the decks." The flintlocks could not be entirely trusted in the constant spray; it was better to be prepared for firing the old fashioned way with fuse and touchhole. "Sir, Flag to Daring, 'Fall back, observe.'" So Maynard did not want to risk the sloop against the French frigate. Dougherty would hate that, but it was good judgement. The small frigate would not make much of a difference, but the squadron had only one vessel for reconnaissance. As ordered, Dougherty fell back and moved to a flanking position. The three ships of the line meanwhile closed the distance to the enemy. Malta was in the lead, of course, and old Captain Dunleary timed his final approach with the vast experience of fifty years at sea. Tony eyed the second ship in the French line, a 74 which looked brand new. Well, there would be some wear and tear before this morning was over, he thought grimly. "Mr. Laughton, have the guns run out if you please. Another reef in foretops'l and mizzentops'l!" Just then, Malta and the leading French ship exchanged their first broadsides. "Sailing Master, flagship opened fire at two bells, Forenoon Watch." The sailing master duly entered this into the log clade. They were closing in on their opposite number; the range was pistol shot now. "Mr. Laughton, my compliments to the gentlemen and will they open fire as the guns bear," Tony ordered. The ensuing delay was reassuring as it meant the officers waited for the best moment. The lower deck battery fired first and the upper deck and quarter deck followed with the next roll of the ship, coinciding with the French broadside. There was something to be said for experience. The French wasted their first broadside by firing into the waves. Only a few shots ricochetted off the water and smashed into Asia's hull. From what Tony saw, the lower deck guns had hit the French decks, but the second salvo had gone higher, as attested by some serious wreckage in the French rigging. Now the guns were ready again, just as Warspite engaged the third ship of the French line. Asia's broadside roared out as one, and again, the English lieutenants had timed it right. All along the French side, splinters flew. This had been a solid hit in the teeth, Tony concluded grimly. The answering French broadside was already delayed, but it did considerably more damage. As the guns were readied again, Tony saw the first fallen carried to the mainmast. He looked around. Malta had engaged the French leader which already looked the worse for wear, with its foretop shot away. Warspite had come through the first exchange undamaged, but so had her opponent. The French frigate was sailing full tilt to make the Gironde estuary, but Dougherty stuck to his orders, watching the battle from two cable lengths away. Tony shook his head. Whoever commanded the French frigate either had strict orders to make port or was a dismal coward. Had he commanded that frigate, Tony would have waited for a chance to lay his ship across the bows of one of the British ships, to rake them. Yet, it was one less worry for him. He had almost missed two of the Asia's broadsides over his observations, but now he returned his attention to the fight. They were faring well, as far as he could see. Still no damage to the rigging, all guns seemed to work, and only five fallen so far. He looked at the French ship. Three gun-ports had been smashed into one gaping hole, with the guns behind them thrown over. He could see the desperate attempts of the French crew to tame the loose cannons on the tossing deck. Their upper deck was largely incapacitated for the moment. Still, their lower deck and quarterdeck spouted flames just as he watched, but again, they had misjudged the roll, this time firing high. A few lines parted in Asia's rigging, that was all. Asia's answering salvo was high, too, but not quite as high. The French mizzen top came tumbling down, and Tony smiled grimly. Without the lever of the mizzen top, the French Captain would have a hard time making the Gironde estuary. His ship was a weather vane now, forced to run before the wind, until he could bring up a jury rig. Something else became apparent and a hot feeling washed over him. There were no soldiers on board the French ship, no marines, and thus no musket fire. The French were fighting insurgencies all over Spain and likely, the ships had to leave their marine soldiers to garrison some Spanish town. Tony looked for Laughton. "The Frogs don't ship any marines, Mr. Laughton. Should I fall, keep this in mind," he shouted over the din of the battle. "Aye, aye, Sir," Laughton replied. "Good for us. A pity we can't board in this sea." Tony turned to return to his vantage point when he stumbled under the pressure wave of a cannon shot. He turned to look and his stomach heaved. Where he had stood with Laughton seconds ago, there was only Laughton's dead body, his chest and arms an undefined mass of blood and gore. Tony forced himself to stay calm. "Runner! Pass the word for Mr. Chalk! He is needed on the quarterdeck." The green faced midshipman raced down the hatchway while two idlers carried Laughton's remains to the mainmast. Tony looked at the Frenchman again. More guns were disabled now and the whole side looked like a single open wound with blood seeping out of it. Just as he was watching, the Tricolour came down. This was it; the French were striking their colours. Tony let his whistle sound three times to make sure, and the gun crews stepped back, their blackened faces running with sweat and spray. There was Chalk at Tony's side. "Mr. Chalk, Mr. Laughton fell. Kindly find out if launch and cutter are still serviceable and take a prize crew to the French ship. Fifty marines and as many sailors." Chalk's face was drawn and sombre. Tony knew that Chalk and Laughton were good friends, had been good friends, he corrected himself. The man saluted. "Aye, aye, Sir. My felicitations, Sir." "Yes, if only they had stricken a few moments earlier," Tony replied. Chalk rushed off while Tony let his gaze sweep the other ships. Warspite had pounded the daylights out of the third Frenchman who had stricken, too. Malta was still engaged, but closing in now as the leading French ship barely fired back. He turned his attention back to his own ship when the world forward was shaken by a powerful explosion. The leading French ship had turned into a fire-spouting volcano just as Malta was closing in for the coup de grace. The Frenchman was already sinking, but now the flames raced up the ratlines of Malta. "Mr. Chalk, belay those orders. Get pumps mounted on those boats and rush to aid the flagship! Midshipman of the watch! Signal to Daring: Assist flagship!" Dougherty did not wait for the signal flags to rise; Daring was already changing course, nearing the Malta from windward. Whipped up by the still strong wind, the fire was already engulfing the entire rigging. On Tony's orders, the side boats and even the jolly boat were lowered, to rush to the aid of the flagship. From behind, three boats from Warspite were also rushing to the aid, while launch and cutter from the Asia were already at the side of the burning ship, adding the water stream from their pumps to the efforts. Even on the two vanquished French ships, sailors were watching the drama unfold. Somebody in the Malta kept his head. Now, organised groups of men were fighting the flames while an officer co-ordinated the efforts of the boats. Where total chaos had reigned for a few minutes, discipline took back control. The efforts of the crews and the spray of seawater from the crashing waves slowly gained the upper hand over the flames. Still, the Malta was in grave danger. She was practically dismasted, her masts being charred sticks, and a lee coast was looming ahead. "Mr. Eldridge, rouse the boatswain. We have to man the anchor cable from the hold to tow the flagship." The new second lieutenant saluted in a rush and rushed off. Cutter and launch were returning now, carrying wounded and burnt men with them. Chalk was standing up and raised his hands around his mouth as makeshift speaking trumpet. "Sir, we have Admiral Maynard with us. He's wounded, and Malta's sickbay is flooded already." Within minutes, the wounded had been transferred to the deck and carried below. Tony imagined that Jonathan and that infernal German doctor would have their hands full by now. It was good now that they had two skilled surgeons. Eisenbeiss might be a pompous ass, but according to Jonathan, he was a crack surgeon. By now, Chalk was taking possession of the surrendered French ship. It only now dawned on Tony that they had taken two prizes, and valuable ones at that. L'Alceste had yielded £13,000, and those new prizes would not bring much less. Perhaps £24,000 to be shared among the four British ships. £3,000 for Maynard if he survived, £1,500 each for Tony and the other captains. He brushed those thoughts aside. The carpenter was standing in front of him to give the damage report, there were a thousand things to do and he was lacking two officers. Just briefly, he felt the elation of having survived again, but it was tinged with sorrow and worries for the dead and wounded. The carpenter made his report. Damage to the hull was restricted to a single shot hole above the waterline. It had been stoppered already, so there were no worries on that account. Other warrant officers gave their reports, and then a frazzled Jonathan showed, his leather apron blood drenched. "Admiral Maynard caught three wood splinters when the French ship blew up. He was conscious when we started but passed out when we extracted the second splinter. We were able to get everything out. It depends on his stamina now, but I'm optimistic. The wood splinters were charred, even glowing, so there is less likelihood of mortification." "Thank you, Jonathan. How are things looking down there?" "We had eight dead and twenty-three wounded. Four are beyond hope, five may or may not recover. The rest are light wounds. We are working on the wounded from Malta now. No telling yet." "You'll do your best as usual, Jonathan, I'm sure." "Yes, of course. I better go back down." Tony watched his friend climb back down the hatch before he looked up again. There was Lt. Prince. "Lower gun deck is secured, Sir. One thirty-two pounder came off the carriage. Carpenter is fixing a new one while the breech is tied down against the foremast. Mr. Sweeny sends his respects and the upper deck is cleared, too." "Very well, Mr. Prince. We'll need to tow the flagship. Keep yourself ready to assist me." "Aye, aye, Sir. My felicitations, Sir." "Thank you, Mr. Prince. Please pass the word that officers and crew behaved in an exemplary manner." Once the prizes were secured and the worst damages repaired, Tony manoeuvred the Asia closer to the flagship. He could see Captain Dunleary, a bandage around his head, directing the frantic activities. The fire had destroyed the entire rigging and parts of the upper hull midships. Those gaps were being closed with canvas. Tony gripped the speaking trumpet. "Stand by to receive tow line!" he hailed. Dunleary waved to indicate he was ready, and Tony gave a nod to John Little. The tall African stood ready with a makeshift spear, with a Nº2 line attached to the butt end. He hurled this harpoon across the ten fathoms of distance as Asia was slowly passing along the Malta. He hit the charred remains of Malta's launch, and somebody quickly passed the line forward. "Back main tops'l!" Tony ordered, and the Asia lost way, now drifting alongside the charred flagship. Quickly, the work crew in the Malta hauled in the Nº2 line and then the heavier boat anchor cable. Attached to that was one of the main anchor cables, and it took five nerve wrecking minutes to pass that cable to the flagship. Dunleary used the stump of the foremast to secure it, and then Tony had the topsails braced again to get the Asia under way. The gods were merciful to them, as the wind was abating further, allowing Asia to tow her sister ship to safety, while Warspite herded the two prizes. It was close to darkness, when Tony was able to pack his exhausted body into his cot for a few hours of badly needed sleep. Thanks for chipping in corrections to readers Brent, Gene, Ted, Neverless, Sam, an anonymous reader, and even Tony himself :-) ------- Chapter 21: Meeting Eleanor Carter Portsmouth, England, November 1808 Tired to the bone, Captain Sir Anthony Carter KB watched as the rest of the ships followed his ship around the Isle of Wight. There was Bembridge, at the easternmost tip of the island. With the still gusty western wind from abeam, they had a clear run for Portsmouth Harbour. It was about time. For the past eight days, the crews of the four British ships and even a sizeable number of the captive French sailors had slaved to keep the damaged Malta and the two French prizes afloat. At one point, it had looked as though Malta was a lost case when she shipped a large breaker off Ouessant. By throwing the upper deck guns and all ammunition, Captain Dunleary had saved the situation until additional crews from the other ships relieved his exhausted men from the pumps. Now, in lee of the Isle of Wight, the sea was much calmer already. Dunleary, Tony thought, what a character! With his head in a blood-soaked bandage, the grizzled captain had fought tirelessly to save his ship, wearing out his much younger officers. As a precaution, the Asia already had the remaining launches of the other ships trailing to facilitate an immediate evacuation, but somehow Dunleary and his crew had managed to bring the half-burned ship into harbour. She even had a jury rig now: three short spars shipping an assortment of staysails, helping the towing Asia in her task. Next to Malta, the French Endurance was following under her own sails. She had stricken to Warspite with the loss of only one mast, but after losing almost all her officers. Warspite herself had probably taken the least punishment, both in term of material damage and by loss of life, and she towed the second prize, the almost brand-new Toulon which had gotten the worst in the exchange with Asia. She, too, had her pumps going at all hours and was still lying deep. The only ship that had not suffered damage was Daring. She was sailing as rearguard to assist any of the damaged ships. Tony knew that she was chock-full with wounded while part of her own crew had been shanghaied to help keeping Malta afloat. There was the entrance to Portsmouth Harbour ahead, with Gosport to port and Southsea to starboard. Asia was flying the wounded Admiral Maynard's flag, and she was the first to exchange salute with Southsea Castle. For days, the hours had crept along like molasses, but now everything seemed to happen at a time. They were already passing the Round Tower and entering the Harbour, and Tony stared at the docks like a desert wanderer would regard an Oasis. Malta needed a dry dock if she was to be saved at all, and Tony sailed forth until they were outside the dry dock basin before he had the anchors cast. They cast off the tow line, and then it was time to pick up Captain Dunleary with the gig. Dunleary looked like an old scarecrow, but he had a fresh bandage around his head and was wearing a clean uniform. Tony, too, looked the worse for wear, but there had been no time for shaving. When the gig reached the quay, a large crowd had assembled who cheered them, for they saw two ships that were flying the White Ensign over the French Tricolour. The Harbour Admiral, Sir Charles 'Dreadnought' Foster, had a lifetime of experience. He needed but little time to realised the urgency of the situation. In a brief flurry of orders he had two dry docks readied for the Malta and the Toulon and he ushered the captains out to make the preparations while inviting them back for the evening to give a full report over dinner. For the next three hours, the crews worked to get the damaged ships into the docks. Luckily, it was high tide, and the running ebb tide assisted in emptying the dry docks. Come the evening, Malta and Toulon were sitting safely on hocks inside the dry docks while work crews already removed their ordnance. The exhausted crews returned to their ships where they just dropped into their hammocks, while Malta's remaining crew was transported to a receiving ship. Neither of the three captains was much of a dinner guest that evening, and Sir Charles was satisfied with their preliminary reports. He showed his concern about Maynard, but Tony assured him that the Admiral was recovering in the Asia's Admiral's cabin, a much better place than any shore infirmary, and tended to by two excellent surgeons. Being aware of his guests' exhaustion, Sir Charles released them after only two hours. Returning to their ships, Dunleary paid a visit to his son-in-law. William Maynard was conscious and in no little pain, but his wounds were looking good according to Jonathan Wilkes and his German colleague. Jonathan had told Tony that they had operated on two of his wounds simultaneously, thereby cutting down the time and the bleeding to a minimum, and the third splinter had only caused a superficial wound. All three wounds were healing with no sign of mortification, thanks to the freshly charred consistence of the wood splinters. Maynard asked for his wife to be notified, and Tony agreed to send John Little to High Matcham, with letters and his oral report, and he would also convey Mrs. Maynard to Portsmouth, so that she would see her wounded husband. It was close to midnight when Tony was finally able to drop onto his own cot. He reckoned to have five, perhaps six much needed hours of sleep, but when he awoke it was already light and he heard the eight bells that closed the Morning Watch - eight o' clock in the civilian world. Lt. Chalk made his report while Tony sat at breakfast, and he invited his new second-in-command to join him. The crew was still mostly resting, and that was needed, Tony agreed. Chalk had kept only a small watch on the deck over night, but now the repairs would begin. They discussed that for some time, stressing the need for a new top hamper. They had not sustained any damage below the waterline, and the shot hole in the hull had been repaired en route. The severely wounded and those unfit for service had been brought ashore while those expected to make a full recovery were being attended in the sickbay. Once the repairs were done, they would make use of the harbour time to get rid of some old casks of salted meat and to get fresh food. After breakfast, Tony sat down to compose a letter to Harriet. My dearest Wife, first, let me assure you of my good health and express the hope that you, my Darling, are also in good spirits. I know that you are expecting the birth of our child any day now, and I shall do my best to make the journey to High Matcham in the next days. For now, you must content yourself with this letter. We have encountered a strong French squadron on our way back to England, and in the ensuing battle, we were able to destroy their flagship and take two more sails of the line as prizes. While this was a good outcome of a battle fought in high winds and stormy conditions, we paid for it dearly. Admiral Maynard was wounded severely, but through the miracles worked by Jonathan and his insufferable but competent German colleague, he is now on his way to a recovery. Please, make sure to let Mrs. Maynard know that he is not in grave condition. Others were less lucky. Our poor Mr. Laughton suffered instant death from a round shot and we lost two warrant officers. In Malta the death toll was much higher as she was close to the French flagship when it exploded and set Malta on fire. Captain Dunleary worked a miracle gaining control over the fires, but many lives were lost and the Malta was reduced to a charred wreck from her main deck upwards. He suffered a head wound, and for days we saw his bandaged head on deck while we towed the Malta homeward. I am closing this letter now in the hope of seeing you soon and because John Little is about to leave for High Matcham. I send my love to you and my fervent wish to be near you again soon. Your husband Anthony With the help of Tony's secretary, Maynard had a number of letters written to his wife, and now, John Little was entrusted with them. Admiral Foster had offered his own carriage for the journey, and John Little took off before the Morning Watch was over. With fresh food available from the shore, the luncheon shared with the wardroom was a delightful affair. Tony had seen to it that Admiral Maynard received a share of the fresh roast, but they were astonished when Maynard entered the main cabin, helped along by his personal steward and his coxswain. He gave the assembled officers a lopsided grin while they scrambled to make room for him. "Can't let small things interfere with the social life of this ship," he jested with a weak voice before his attendants safely placed him in a high-backed chair. "Good God, but it feels great to be upright again!" The other officers sat down, and Maynard received reports of the events of the last days. He had been briefed once he regained his consciousness, but now he was strong enough again to ask questions. He returned to his cabin after the luncheon but he accepted Tony's invitation to dinner. Captain Dunleary came too, anxious to see his son-in-law. Captains Masters and Dougherty made the fourth and fifth, and the former brought the news that two Admiralty agents had begun to assess the prizes. Then he dropped a bomb on the table. During the inspection of a private hold underneath the Captain's cabin in the Toulon, they had found a cache of gold in the form of coins, bullion, and even artefacts: goblets, crucifixes and picture frames. Obviously, the captain of the Toulon had looted Spanish possessions or had agreed to transport the loot of another officer. The hidden treasure was easily worth £8,000 on top of the value of the ships, bringing the share for each captain to £3,000 and Maynard's to £4,000. Those were substantial sums of money, enough for Tony to send his steward for two bottles of his oldest wine to celebrate. Time and again, they toasted their success. Dougherty was nearly speechless over the windfall he would receive while Masters entertained them with his prognosis of how his wife would spend his share. There was more. Watching Maynard unobtrusively, Tony could see that his Admiral was glowing with pride. The reasons were obvious. Preciously few admirals ever fought a successful battle at sea, and this one had resulted in an almost complete annihilation of the enemy. One ship sunk, two captured, and only the small frigate escaped; that was a perfect outcome. Even being wounded would add to his merits. In Tony's estimate, a knighthood was in Maynard's immediate future. A rather drunk Admiral Maynard was carried to his cot later while his equally drunk captains had a noisy farewell on the main deck. Tony did not imbibe often, in fact barely ever, but the windfall of money had been too overwhelming. Once his brother captains had climbed down into their gigs, Tony staggered to his cabin. Giles helped him undress, and Tony dropped back on his cot, falling asleep in no time at all. Tony woke from the noise of the work parties who began to repair the damages wrought by foe and stormy seas. He showed on deck briefly, content to see Mr. Chalk overseeing the disassembly of the top hamper. A lighter was alongside, loaded with the first replacements for their topgallant and royal masts. Tony had the carpenter come and inspect the wood, much to the displeasure of the dock official who was supervising the lighter. Indeed, one of the royal masts had a fissure all along its length, and the angry dockyard man had to take it back. After a hurried breakfast, Tony took over the supervision while Mr. Chalk went ashore for talks with the superintendent of the dockyard. Coils of new ropes and cables had also arrived, and the boatswain had half the crew in the rigging, replacing frayed halliards and brasses, and setting up the stays for the upper masts. The work continued into the afternoon. Tony had the grog hour delayed, causing some grumbling among the men, but he did not want drunk men up in the unfinished rigging. Instead, he had the men work until sunset. For their supper, the men received ale as compensation for the missed grog, while a steady trickle of women made their way aboard. By Admiralty rules, when a King's ship was in harbour, the wives - self-proclaimed or real - were allowed on board. It was dark already when a boat approached the Asia where a lusty orgy was in progress between the decks, and the boatman had some difficulty making himself heard over the ruckus. The midshipman of the watch noticed the boat at length, and a minute later, Tony stood at the entry port to welcome Margaret Maynard. "Welcome aboard, Madam. Shall I convey you to Admiral Maynard's cabin?" Tony offered. "Good evening, Sir Anthony. Please, do so. I take it, the wives have come aboard?" "Indeed. Please excuse the noise, madam." "Say nothing, Sir Anthony. How is my husband, honestly?" "He looked bad when he was brought on board, but the surgeons were able to extract the splinters. He has attended luncheons and dinners in the day cabin since yesterday. You will find him recovering." Margaret Maynard briefly touched Tony's arm. "Thank you, for the excellent care. Before I forget, Harriet sends her love and this letter. She is not in a state to travel anymore, else she would have come along." "I imagine that. Now, if you will follow me?" Leading Maynard's wife aft, he remembered in time to congratulate her. "Madam, may I also offer my felicitation over your own naval victory?" In spite of her worries, Margaret Maynard giggled. "Oh dear, thank you, Sir Anthony. That was quite the adventure." The sentry at Maynard's cabin announced them. "Sir, Sir Anthony to see you. 'E's 'aving a lady with 'im:" "Send 'em in!" came the surprisingly strong reply. Tony showed Margaret Maynard in and bowed. "By your leave, Sir." He hastily closed the door and retired to his own cabin where he hastily read Harriet's letter. She was heavy with child, but so far, the delivery had not set in. Jenny had given birth the night before, Harriet wrote, and to a healthy son. Lucy was torn between her loyalty to her friend and her wish to see her husband, and Harriet asked for Tony to find out if Jonathan might be able to visit, too. In his mind Tony made plans for the next days. If everything went according to plan, he could perhaps make a brief run to High Matcham and back. They were still waiting for spare yards, and they had lost a bow anchor in the battle. The superintendent had promised them those parts a week hence, and that was it. Once the major repairs were finished, he could ask Maynard for a brief leave, leaving Chalk in charge. On the next morning, Tony had a brief breakfast by himself before he immersed himself in the refitting of his ship again. He had been pacing the decks for two hours already when Maynard's coxswain emerged in front of him. "Admiral Maynard's compliments, Sir Anthony, and would you join him for breakfast?" There were ten or twelve things Tony thought more important but an invitation from the Squadron Commander was an order. "My respectful greetings to Admiral Maynard, and I shan't be longer than five minutes." Poor Chalk had to take over, together with a Lt. Prince who looked the worse for wear. Probably a night of drinking if not more, Tony thought with an inward grin. The young man was growing up and shrugging off Eisenbeiss' paternalism. He had really performed well during the battle, taking over the command of the lower gun deck, and Tony had taken care to name him in his report, along with the other officers who had distinguished themselves. Exactly five minutes after the summon, Tony entered the main cabin and found the Maynards already at the table. One look at Margaret Maynard told Tony that his superior could not be a full invalid, for she exuded the languid sensuality of a woman who had just had her needs taken care of in a most satisfying manner. "Ah, Sir Anthony! May we entice you to sit with us for a spell? Steward, more coffee!" Obediently, Tony sat, finding that he indeed could stand a bite or two to eat. "I take it the repairs are proceeding according to your expectations, Sir Anthony?" "We have effectively rebuilt the entire top hamper, Sir. We even have some spare timbers now, and the boatswain has restocked his supplies. Were it not for the lost bower and for some spare yards, we could be ready in five or six days. As things are, we shall be ready in eight days, providedd the superintendent keeps his word." "Anything that should require your personal supervision until then?" "Not really, Sir. Mr. Chalk has handled himself most ably." "Then, for God's sake, Captain, take a coach and visit your wife! Asia will still be afloat when you'll return in a week." "I was going to ask for leave tomorrow, Sir," Tony answered, giving Margaret Maynard a grateful smile. "Well, your leave is granted, Captain. I want you gone by early afternoon." "Aye-aye, Sir," Tony answered with a smile. "Thank you, Sir." "We shall probably sail next week, and until Malta's repairs are done, I shall use Asia as my flagship. I shall explain this to Captain Masters. My coxswain will move the remainder of my dunnage today. Shall we keep a single after cabin?" "If you can agree to it, Sir, I am used to sharing into the use. Sir Pierce Fallon suggested it first, and Commodore Fanning found it agreeable, too." "Splendid. Suffice to say, I shared the after cabin on Malta with my father in law. I shall await you back a week from now. Please give my regards to Lady Carter." And so, an hour later found Tony inside a four-horse carriage tumbling along the highway north of Portsmouth. With the sickbay emptying, he had ordered Jonathan to come along for the ride, and young Eric Johnsen sat perched on the opposing bench, beside a sleeping John Little. The latter would take a river boat from Matcham to London, to see his family. Inez Little still worked at Wilson's Fashion, and John Little had invested his saved prize moneys in a neat little house. Inez earned good money and John Little received extra pay from Tony's pocket, allowing them a decent living with their first child, a son by the name of George. For the first hours, Tony and Jonathan discussed the state of several wounded and their chances of recovery. A number of promotions were needed to fill the positions of dead and disabled men, and Tony made use of the idle time to select suitable candidates. Thrice, they changed horses en route, the driver tiring the horses easily on the 15-17 mile stages. Yet, reaching High Matcham the same evening was well worth the extra costs involved. The chime of Tony's fob watch announced six o' clock when they reached Matcham Village or Lower Matcham. Now it was just two more miles along a yew lined alley that led up to the Manor House, and in no time at all, the coach stopped in the wide court yard. They all alighted from the carriage and stomped their feet to shake out the numbness. There! The two-winged entrance opened and Lucy emerged, almost flying down the front steps and into Jonathan's arms. "Oh my dearest man!" she cried happily, revelling in the embrace. She only freed her face, but never let go of Jonathan, to address Tony and Eric Johnsen. "Harriet is waiting inside, and you, young Mr. Johnsen, go up to the third floor. I believe there are two people waiting for you." Together, Tony and Eric Johnsen stepped inside. There was Nadine Blacket who curtseyed with a happy smile and gave the younger man instructions where to find his family. Meanwhile, Tony went into the salon. There sat Harriet, resting on a chaise longue, but smiling brightly at the sight of her returning husband. "Tony! You came!" she exclaimed, trying to get up, but Tony was at her side in five quick strides, sitting down on the edge of the chaise. "Sshh! Stay, Harriet!" he calmed her, holding her free hand and smiling at her. "You look well, my darling." "You mean well, Tony, but I know how I look," Harriet laughed. "Jenny gave birth the day before yesterday, and I hoped the example would get me started, too, but no such luck. She has a little boy." "Don't be impatient, my darling. You are due any time now, I gather?" "Better sooner than later," she smirked. "And you, how are you? We read the reports the day before yesterday. It was quite some engagement, wasn't it?" "We did not suffer too greatly, but there was a lot of iron in the air. Malta suffered most when the French flagship blew up. Maynard and Dunleary were the only survivors on her quarterdeck. She burnt down almost to her upper gundeck. It was sheer luck and good thinking that they dumped the powder cartridges overboard before the fire reached them." Harriet affected a shudder. "How dreadful! Is Maynard recovering?" "The way Mrs. Maynard moved this morning, he must have recovered even faster than we could hope," Tony answered with a grin, waggling his eyebrows. A happy giggle from Harriet was his reward for the indiscretion. "I know what you mean. She cannot hide it very well, can she?" Tony shook his head. "No, she can't. She carries her heart on her sleeve. Does she still like Woodbridge Manor?" "Very much so. She enjoys the countryside, too, and she is a frequent visitor. Oh, Anita called on me, two weeks ago, returning from Oxford. That was so wonderful, Anita, Lucy, and I; only Moira was missing, but she cannot travel, being in a similarly advanced state as I am. Anita asked me to relay her fondest regards." "It is a pity we see so little of her. What about her young beau, Lord Byron?" "Oh dear! Do you remember how he told us about his upcoming first book of verses? It was banned! From what we hear, it was deemed immoral, imagine that. Yet, he seemed such a nice young man." "Who says he isn't? Many a famed writer saw his works banned at times." Harriet grinned. "Let me assure you, my dear, it is immoral! Mother held that copy he had promised me, and I was finally able to talk her out of it. My word, the verses had me blushing three shades from red." Tony looked around to make sure they were alone. "Is there anything left that we did not do ourselves?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "Yes, there is," Harriet answered, now blushing with the memory. "Now, that is neither here nor there. Are you hungry, dearest?" "I shall demand more information later," Tony grinned at her. "To answer your question, I am indeed famished." Harriet lifted a small porcelain bell and rang it. A housemaid appeared within seconds. "Elsie, kindly alert Mrs. Blacket that Sir Anthony would stand a hearty supper." "Tell her to plan for four hungry men," Tony added. To Harriet, he said, "I brought Jonathan and young Eric Johnsen, and John Little, of course. Now, I you'll excuse me for a moment, I shall go to see Richard and Emily." Both children were ready to go to bed and the nanny in charge - a recent appointment for the duration of Jenny's pregnancy - was more than a little put out over this delay of bedtime. Emily knew him, of course, but Richard was uneasy. Tony realised that his son barely knew him. Even in Gibraltar, he had barely spent time with the children, and before that, he had patrolled the Irish Sea while Harriet was at High Matcham. This made him a little sad and a feeling of guilt rose in his chest. The children deserved better. A half hour later saw most of the adults assembled in the dinner hall where Nadine Blacket had laid the table. The men were ravenous after the long travel, but the women ate sparingly. Harriet claimed that she had no space anymore to fit food in, and Lucy almost never overindulged herself with food or drink. After supper, Tony led his wife to their upstairs bedroom. It was the first time in almost three years that he would sleep in his own bedroom. Somebody had brought his small sea chest up and he gratefully slipped into a heavy nightshirt. That done, he helped Harriet change. She was wearing her hair in a thick braid, and there was no need for combing it. They quickly cleaned their teeth with wooden picks and flushed their mouths with cold peppermint tea before they slipped under the bed covers. The room was rather cold, and Tony welcomed the woollen bed curtains that would help to keep them warm. Harriet pull him close. "I've been sleeping alone for months. Lie close to me. I want to feel you," she demanded. For an answer, he snuggled to her back, nuzzling her neck. "Your wish is my command," he whispered. "I missed you so badly!" "Oh dear God, that feels so good! Hold me, Tony!" And he held her as she drifted into sleep. Lying there and listening to her soft breathing he felt peace of mind. That was the effect Harriet had on him. She was there with him, and all was well. He fell asleep a little while later and woke again after what felt like only a few minutes. "I need to use the chamber pot," Harriet whispered. "The child is kicking against my bladder." With a surety born of routine, Harriet reached for the oil lamp in the dark and found the shade. The room was illuminated by the yellowish light of the lamp, and Tony watched as Harriet laboriously sat down on the chamber seat above the pot. He heard the stream of her urine in the tin pot and then a surprised exclamation. "Oh ... Oh dear!" "What is it, Harriet?" he asked worriedly. "My water just broke," Harriet replied, calm again. "Can I trouble you to wake Lucy and alert Nadine? She needs to send for the midwife." "Are you ... having the child now?" "That's how it feels, Tony." "Let me help you back to the bed first," he answered, standing already and offering his arm to Harriet which she accepted gratefully. Once he had settled her back in the bed, he lighted a candle and went off in search of the Wilkes' bedroom, to alert Lucy. He felt embarrassment when he knocked on their friends' bedroom door, in the first night they had to themselves in months, but that could not be helped. Jonathan opened after a few moments. "I'm sorry to bother you, but could you wake Lucy and tell her, Harriet's water broke?" Within less than a minute, Lucy, dressed in a nightgown, a cap over her tousled blonde hair, emerged. "Is it time?" she asked, excitement overcoming sleepiness. Tony nodded. "I am to alert Nadine, too, to fetch the midwife." "Do that! I'll be with Harriet," Lucy said decisively. Tony trudged upstairs to wake Nadine, but when he arrived at the head of the stairs, she was already emerging from her small suite of rooms. Down the upper hallway, she banged on a door. "Buller! Buller! Wake up!" A moment later, a sleepy man stuck his head through the door. "Wottisit?" he brabbled, drunk with sleep. "Wipe the sleep from your eyes and dress!" Tony commanded sharply, making the man stiffen up. "Run the coach to the village and come back with the midwife." "Yessir! I'll be right down, Sir," Buller blurted, only now alerted to his master's presence. Indeed, scarcely a minute passed before Buller plodded down the stairs, a stable helper in tow, and in short time, the hoof beat and the rattle of iron clad wheels could be heard. Meanwhile, Nadine had roused the maids, and the house was bustling with activity as water was heated and the ovens fired. Tony was with Harriet again who was reclining in the bed watching Lucy see to the preparations. Knowing how ably Lucy had handled Richard's birth, Tony gave her carte blanche as she began to spread clean linen over a waxed cotton sheet, to protect the mattress against the blood and bodily fluids which were part of a birth. He was content to hold Harriet's hand, and worried and excited as he was, she was the one to calm him down. "Remember, this is my second child, and I had no trouble with Richard. It will all be alright." Still, watching Harriet grimace with pain and discomfort at regular intervals did little to ease Tony's mind. Now Jenny burst into the bedroom, still recuperating from the birth of her own son, and Tony found himself in the middle of a heated argument. In the end, Lucy and Harriet prevailed, and Jenny had to retreat to her own room and promise to rest herself. Then the midwife appeared in the door, a rather young and clean looking woman, with steady eyes and hands in spite of the early hour. She was Mrs. Pendleton, the widow of a corn merchant, who supported herself by helping birthing mothers. Tony noticed the easy accord between the woman and Lucy. Both worked hand in hand now to prepare Harriet for her ordeal. "You had better leave now," Lucy told him. "Have breakfast with the others. Harriet is already wide open, and we can feel the child's head. Everything will be fine. We'll call you up." "Are you sure?" he asked haltingly. "Yes, you cannot help anyway. Leave this to us." There was nothing to do for Tony but to heed Lucy's command. Worried and feeling useless, he walked downstairs where he found companionship in Jonathan. Together, they had coffee while they heard the moans and cries from upstairs. "I cannot fathom how women can endure this," Jonathan remarked. "They even look forward to their next child. It is as if all the pain and effort is forgotten once they hold the child in their arms." "How can we understand?" Tony answered. "Our task is to protect and support our wives, but I cannot but feel that I am failing in that task. It is sheer luck and against all odds that I can be here for the birth. A step to the left, and I would have been smashed by the same cannon ball that killed Laughton, leaving Harriet to fend for herself and for the children." "I sensed it before, Anthony, you seem tired of your duty." "I suppose I am. In the last eleven years, I spent perhaps six months ashore." "You slept almost every night ashore in Bridgetown," Jonathan corrected him. "Yet, I still had a ship to to command. If Asia is decommissioned for repairs, I shall not apply for a new command, not for some time. I want to eat fresh fruit, I want to walk over green grass, I want to watch my children grow up. Most of all, I want to be with Harriet." Jonathan sighed. "There is something to what you say. Is the ship due for such an overhaul?" "She should be. I went over the logs; we sailed over 40,000 sea miles since I took command. We have cleaned the bottom as best we could, but we are likely dragging along quite some growth by now. We also fired over fifty broadsides, taken together. That must have stressed the seams considerably. I'd say, she is due for an overhaul. Besides, I've been in command for three years." "Yes, that is quite long. Still, I must admit that I have seen places and things in the last years that will enrich my memories for the remainder of my life." "No doubt about that. Well, I can deal with that once the time has arrived. How far along do you think Harriet can be by now?" "Hard to say. It would seem that the contractions are coming quite frequently now." They could hear the sounds from the upstairs bedroom. Harriet's moans and cries made Tony ball his fists with empathy and he felt the trickle of sweat down his spine every so often. Just then, after the next gut-wrenching moans from Harriet, they heard a different sound: the small, protesting cry of a newborn. Tony jumped up and ran up the stairs, trying to listen at the door. He could hear the faint voice of Harriet, hoarse with exhaustion, and Lucy's soothing words, no doubt directed at her friend. "You did it, Harriet, darling! It's a little girl, a sweet little girl!" Hearing this, Tony began to tremble while relief washed over him. There, he could hear the midwife, too. "There's been no tearing, M'lady. Everything looks good. Now, let's push that afterbirth, and then you're done." A few more strangled moans later, Tony heard the approving words of the midwife. "There it is, and it looks good, too. Now, let us wrap you up in clean linen, and you can hold your little one. She's a little beauty, that she is, M'lady." Jonathan was with Tony now, patting his shoulder. "Everything sounds fine, in there," he said cheerily. He raised his voice then. "Lucy, dear, I have a thoroughly unnerved man out here. Can he come in?" "A few more moments. A man should not see his wife like this," Lucy's voice sounded from within. "Quick with that towel, girl, and then empty the basin!" A moment later, a harried looking maid exited the bedroom, carrying a basin filled with blood-tinted water. The sight made Tony physically ill, but Jonathan spoke to him soothingly. "That's absolutely normal. There wasn't much blood in there. Come on, you heard Lucy. Did she sound like something was amiss?" Tony looked at his friend. "Jonathan, honestly, I'd much rather face a French broadside that go through this." Jonathan grinned. "That's because you know how poorly they aim," he joked. "Come now, calm yourself." Then, the door opened and there stood Lucy, a wiggling bundle of white linen in her arms and a silly grin on her face. "Sir Anthony, may I introduce Miss Eleanor Carter to you? She's had an exciting half hour, and she's almost asleep, but I assure you that she and her mother are just fine." Tony saw thin wet strands of reddish hair plastered to the forehead over a tiny face, and his heart melted in an instant. "May I?" he croaked, reaching out for the tiny human in Lucy's arms. Smilingly, Lucy put the bundle in his outstretched arms and he held the little girl with utmost care and a little awe. "Hello, my sweet little Eleanor," he croaked, unable to control his voice. He felt it then, the deep bond between a father and his daughter, and his eyes teared up a little. Through his brimming eyes, he looked at Harriet who was resting against her pillows, a brave smile on her face as she saw her husband hold their little daughter. He walked over and sat at her side, and she reached out with her hand to touch Tony's arm. "I love you, Harriet, with all my heart," he whispered, still hoarsely. "And I love you, Tony. Everything is so wonderful!" Indeed, it was, Tony decided. It was a perfect moment, easily one of the happiest moments of his life. Right then, he decided that he wanted more of those moments. He had done his duty for his country, had paid his dues. Now he would look for a way out, to be with his family for once. He had nothing to prove anymore, other than being a good husband and father. He could not wait for this war to be over. The way it looked, Napoleon had a pretty solid lock on the continent while England was in firm control over any body of water deeper than a fathom. Richard might be grown by the time his grizzled father returned from this eternal warfare. No, he needed some time ashore or he would be sorry later in his life. With the resolve came calmness. The smile he gave Harriet was pure bliss. He would talk it over with her, of course, and he would talk it over with his father in law. They would try to convince him otherwise, for various reasons, but he hoped they would also see his need to live a life worth living. He would have to do some clever manoeuvring, but a year from now would see him as a private man, at least for two or three years. The thought of returning to Portsmouth, to his life as a sailor, did not even bother him anymore. As long as he remained captain of the Asia he would do his duty as before, but he would do it with a better life as a prospect. "What are you thinking, Tony? You look happy," Harriet asked. "I am thinking of you, my darling," he answered. "For once, I am thinking of you and me, and of our children." ------- Chapter 22: The Nature of Valour High Matcham, Berkshire, November 1808 For mid-November, the weather was exceedingly friendly. The storm front that had nearly sealed the fate of the crippled Malta had finally run its course, and for now, the sun made a short appearance. Tony felt elated, after spending the morning with Mr. Brown inspecting the lands. Woodbridge Manor was restored to its former splendour, as he had seen, and the lands belonging to the property had turned in an excellent harvest. Tony had been so delighted that he gave Mr. Brown a sizeable bonus payment for the excellent service rendered. Now he sat in Harriet's company in their upstairs bedroom, holding her hand and watching the wetnurse who was feeding little Eleanor. She was three days old and from what they could see she was healthy and strong. Briefly overwhelmed with love and pride, he kissed Harriet's hand. "I know," she said happily, returning the pressure. "We are so lucky." "I hope your parents will be able to make it," Tony said offhandedly. "Oh, they will, never doubt them. Can you imagine my mother missing her first granddaughter's baptism?" "No, not really," Tony conceded. "I hope your father will be able to come, too." "You want to speak him about your plans." It was a statement, not a question. The evening before, Tony had told Harriet about his plan to lay down Asia's command, in fact, to 'go private' for a spell. He had expected her to protest, to point out the possible damage to his career or to their social position, but she had surprised him. With a look full of love, she had pulled him close and said, 'That would be so wonderful!'. Now it remained to be seen how his mentor reacted to Tony's plans. Hoof beat could be heard outside, and Tony stepped to the window. Down in the court yard, a single dragoon was seen. He dismounted and approached the entrance on stiff legs. "I believe I am needed downstairs, darling," Tony told Harriet. "I'll be back presently." The dragoon was carrying a message. Tony signed a receipt and received a tarred envelope bearing Maynard's seal. Not knowing whether he would have to send back an answer, he bade the man to go to the kitchen, to have a hearty meal. One of the grooms tended the horse and the dragoon retired happily. Tony tore open the envelope to find a single sheet of paper in the hand of Maynard's secretary. It was brief and to the point. HMS Asia Portsmouth Harbour November 18, AD 1808 To Captain Sir Anthony Carter, KB High Matcham, Berkshire Dear Sir Anthony, this to let you know that our sailing will be delayed. I have received orders to appear at Court Wednesday next, and we shall detour to Woodbridge Manor on our way to London. I have not seen the house yet, but my wife tells me the nicest things about it and about the neighbours. I therefore ask you to extend your leave until Friday next, by which time we shall return from London. We shall endeavour to call upon you and Lady Carter once we arrive at Woodbridge Manor, in the hope of hearing good news. Your obedient servant William Maynard, Rear Admiral of the Blue and Squadron Commander Now, that was good news indeed. Maynard was being knighted with almost unseemly haste, but then again, his father must wield great influence at court, Tony assumed. The way the order was expanding, there would be problems fitting all the members into Westminster Abbey for their annual service. Not his problem, he shrugged it off. No answer was needed for the Dragoon could not be expected to make the return trip on the same day. Dusk was approaching already. He asked Nadine Blacket to see to it that the man had a place to sleep and then he returned to Harriet's room. Little Eleanor was in Harriet's arms while Richard and Emily looked on with great interest. Tony thought he could see a reddish hair colour on the tiny girl, and he smiled. He definitely liked redheads. Harriet smiled up at him. "She just finished drinking, and Emily helped to change her nappies." Emily nodded proudly. Tony knelt in front of his adopted daughter. "How is Jenny's little boy?" Emily beamed. "He is sooo tiny. Jenny let me hold him, and he did not cry." "Do you know his name?" "Jenny said he'll be named Frederick, after Eric's father." "Have you seen Frederick, Richard?" Tony asked his son, but the boy looked at him with big eyes and shook his head. Again, Tony felt a pang of his conscience. Tentatively, he tousled the boy's hair. "You'll see him, I'm sure. How about you hold Eleanor?" There! Richard cast a long look at his mother and his baby sister. Tony lifted him up easily and placed him at Harriet's side. Smilingly, Harriet sat the tiny girl between Richard's legs. The two-year-old boy put his arms around his baby sister and laughed happily while little Eleanor decided to be sleepy. Tony and Harriet watched with silly grins as Richard manly kept his sister from falling over. "I can stay longer, dear," Tony told his wife. "Maynard will get his knighthood it seems. He has to report to St. James Palace next Wednesday. They will deviate to Woodbridge on the way to London and probably pay a call." "Oh dear," Harriet sighed. "Well, if this lets me keep you for a few days more, I can stand a social call. Perhaps, we should at least issue an invitation to the baptism?" "That's a good idea. I can send a billet to that effect to Woodbridge." ------- Indeed, a day later, the visitors began to arrive. First came the Lamberts, and Eleanor Lambert told them time and again how much little Eleanor looked like Harriet when she was little. Sir Richard watched his wife's emotional surge with an amused smile, but when his turn came to hold the infant girl, he, too, had to blink away some moisture in his eyes. The next arrival was Moira Palmer, her own infant son accompanying her together with a nurse. Captain Palmer was at sea, but Moira declared laughingly that she would not miss the baptism for the world. She also conveyed the felicitations from her father-in-law, Lord Brougham. With an heir born and his second son in a happy marriage, Lord Brougham was slowly getting over the death of his firstborn. Then, early in the afternoon, a gaily decorated coach pulled into the courtyard and from it emerged a radiant Anita Heyworth. Accompanying her was a Mr. Spencer Penrose, Anita's first ever acknowledged paramour and an important official at the Foreign Ministry. His father was a leading Tory in the House of Lords and his oldest brother served as British envoy at the Portuguese Court in Rio de Janeiro. Anita had indeed moved up in the world. Tony's jealousy was a little pricked, but soon he picked up on certain mannerisms of Mr. Penrose. For instance, there was a certain way that he touched his secretary's arm when addressing him that bespoke an unconventional intimacy. Tony's discomfort vanished immediately. Anita was playing a role, probably well paid, to serve as a beard for Mr. Penrose's true orientation. Outwardly, Tony hid what he felt or perceived. He, too, played his role as host as best he could, but Harriet would not be fooled. He caught a wink or two from her, delivered with her trademark knowing smile, and he could not help but grin back at her, like a schoolboy caught with the hand in the cookie jar. They were a little stretched for available room with so many visitors, especially since Mr. Penrose made it clear that Miss Heyworth's reputation should not be tainted by her spending the night in the same room with him. Tony very nearly broke out laughing when Penrose alleviated the spacial constraints by volunteering his secretary to sleep on a pallet in his room. Instead, he thanked Penrose sincerely for the consideration. At this point, Anita looked through Tony's facade, too, and gave him a short, amused shrug. It was already dark when the Maynards paid their call, promising to attend the baptism on Sunday and staying for the dinner. For the first time, Tony and Harriet entertained a dinner party in their country home. Nadine Blacket had outdone herself, and the party went on merrily for over three hours. At that point, Harriet claimed fatigue, not surprisingly, but her gaggle of female friends would not leave her alone and went up into her boudoir with her. This left Tony and all the gentlemen visitors to fend for themselves, with the exception of Lady Lambert who laughingly declared that she was too old to join the "girls". Cigars were passed around and the wine carafes circled the table in a lively manner. To Tony's surprise, Penrose was a well-versed man in all affairs of the Iberian peninsula, and soon, the discussion centred mostly on the situation there. Now that Wellesley had been exonerated by a court-martial, there was talk of him rejoining the army that had been ably led by Sir John Moore. At one point, Tony's acquaintance with His Excellency Don Alonso Christobal Ruiz de Costa y Torquena, His Most Catholic Majesty's Governor of Cartagena, was mentioned and duly noted by Mr. Penrose as something that might be useful for British interest in the region. Little did Tony know at this time that this chance encounter would have an impact on his life and career. It was close to midnight when Margaret Maynard returned from Harriet's boudoir and the Maynards left for Woodbridge Manor. This was a signal for the others to retire, too. Nadine roused a few servants to help clear the dinner hall, and Tony made his way upstairs. The other women had left Harriet, save for Anita who could not look at Tony. He picked up on a certain uneasiness, and he was worried. Harriet spoke up immediately. "Tony, my dear, I suppose you picked up on Mr. Penrose?" "You mean, Mr. Penrose and his secretary?" Tony asked back, shrugging. "That was quite obvious, wasn't it?" Anita had a lopsided smile on her lips. "Yes, it was. It always is. I don't know why he pays me for this charade. There isn't a single person in London who believes our pretences." "Why are you even putting up with this?" Tony asked cautiously. "He's paying me a fortune. I mean, my salary as his paramour helps me keep my house." "Why would you need that, Anita? You are London's first actress," Tony cut in. "Oh yes, I was. I am having problems, though. One of the money people was after me, called on me on the weekends, called on me at night. When I did not give in, he got his revenge. I cannot find roles. The troupes won't consider me anymore. It does not help that I have my admirers, my enemy is already spreading rumours that I am impossible to work with. With Penrose's money, I can found my own troupe. I can even buy an interest in a theatre, and then nobody can keep me off the stage. It is just not very dignified." "Anita, say no more! How much will you need?" "Taking money from you is not much better than taking money from Spencer. At least, I'm doing something for him in return. I much doubt that Harriet would appreciate a similar agreement with you." "Still, my offer stands, Anita, and nobody would need to know about it either." "Let me consider it, Tony. I know you mean well, but I would hate to make Spencer your enemy. It would be conspicuous if I broke our agreement after spending the weekend with you." "There is nothing we can do for you?" Anita smiled shyly and blushed, "Why, yes, there is. I spoke to Harriet about it, and she will allow it for once. I would like to sleep here tonight, in your arms. Nothing more, I just ache to feel ... cared for? An illusion of love? I don't know, and I don't want to know. Will you allow it?" "Tony, I have no concerns. I love you and I know that you love me. I love Anita, too. Please, give her a good, night long cuddling." Tony let his gaze wander between the two women a few times, trying to digest this. In the end, he smiled. "As long as my dear wife is here, to protect my virtue and good reputation..." Harriet snorted. "Lucy Pendrake!" she challenged him. "I was young, then," Tony defended himself. "Anita!" "You had abandoned me." "Elisabeth Wilson!" Tony cast a worried look at Anita who laughed. "I know of her. Well, we were hardly engaged to each other." "The situation then..." Tony began. "Doña Maria!" Harriet charged. Tony threw up his hands in surrender. "All right, with my virtue in tatters and my reputation damaged beyond repair, I shall fall into further depravity, sharing my bed not with one woman but two." Harriet laughed so hard that she held her belly. "Ouch, this still hurts. Anita, quick, change into your night shirt. My depraved husband has agreed to cuddle with you." It should not have surprised Tony, but it still did. When he was lying in bed, holding Anita from behind, he felt strangely at ease. It was the same he had felt over three years ago, when Anita had been his paramour. Before he fell asleep holding his former lover, Harriet's hand sneaked over Anita's body and grasped his arm. She, too, had turned over and now faced Anita. She actually giggled like a girl, something Tony had not heard in over a year. "You know, Anita, now I had all of you in my bed, Lucy, Moira and now you." Anita chuckled at that, and in the near darkness, Tony saw how she bent forward to give Harriet a kiss. "You are the most depraved of us all," she said, and Harriet purred with satisfaction. "I most certainly hope so." ------- The small chapel in Matcham was filled to capacity when Eleanor Moira Carter was baptised. Her two Godmothers, Lady Lambert and Moira Palmer, smiled proudly when the priest performed the rites and doused her little head with Holy Water. Harriet pressed Tony's left arm while little Richard sat on his right arm, watching the procedure with an open mouth. Next came the baptism of Frederick Johnsen. Jenny and Eric Johnsen happily presented their son while the two Godfathers, Captains Sir Anthony Carter and James Dougherty affirmed their intent to help in the upbringing of the little boy. Dougherty had only arrived briefly before the ceremony after receiving Jenny Johnsen's letter. Tony and his then First Lieutenant had been the ones to grant her and her husband a second chance, back when they were both captured as pirates, and both had agreed readily to stand in as Godfathers. The banquet at High Matcham was splendid, as everybody attending agreed. They had 'borrowed' cooks and servants from their nearest neighbours for this occasion, and Nadine Blacket proved her cooking skills with an impressive selection of roasts and pastries. After toasting King George, any formality was soon abandoned, and the guests mingled freely. Sitting at the top of the table for this occasion, Jenny and Eric Johnsen were terribly flustered, but Harriet and Nadine had seen to it that both looked their part. Later in the afternoon, Tony found a chance to speak his father-in-law in private. They walked along a gravel path that led to the River Thames when Tony announced his wish to ask for an extended leave. "Richard, there is something I need you to know. As you know, I haven't spent ten months ashore in the past eleven years. True, I mostly slept ashore on the Barbados station, but I want to see more of Harriet and the children, at least for a year or two." The older man nodded. "Do you plan to enter into politics?" he asked. "Good God, no!" Tony expostulated. "Just some time to rest and watch my children grow up. Time to be with Harriet. Time to enjoy my good fortunes. Time to ... I don't know, find myself again?" Richart Lambert looked at his son-in-law with sympathy. "It is getting more difficult, isn't it?" he asked. "What is?" Tony replied, quite at a loss. "Facing the next broadside, after living through so many of them." Tony actually stepped back a little. "I hope you are not implying..." "Be at ease, Tony. It's just the two of us. Believe me, I know the feeling; in fact all senior captains know it. How many times do we have to prove our valour? How many times do we have to face annihilation, how many of our friends do we have to watch as they are torn apart. You lost your First Lieutenant, right before your eyes. You were wounded three times in so many years." He looked away towards the river. "It is so easy to be brave when you have no idea of what you're facing. When you're a young officer, all you see is the glory, the advancement that is waiting. With every skirmish, every battle, you see more of what fighting ultimately means. The loss of friends, the excruciating pain of wounds, the fear of leaving loved ones behind. This is why experienced officers seem overly cautious to the young hotshots. We know what we risk. "Tony, I fought my last ship-to-ship almost twelve years ago. I was at the Chesapeake, the Saintes, and a number of smaller engagements, and with every battle I survived, I dreaded the next one more. Do not tell me that you don't feel a growing apprehension. It is only normal. A man without fear is nothing but a reckless fool. The ability to overcome fear when the situation requires it, that is what marks the brave man. "For a while I was afraid that you might be one of those reckless fools. That's why I was so angry at you and Fanning over that Menai Strait adventure: it was an unnecessary risk and unwarranted. It bespoke bad judgement. I thought that Harriet's stupid remarks clouded your judgement. Anthony, I am glad to see that you have discovered the importance of your family and your importance for your family." Tony had listened to the old sailor with sinking feelings. Was he afraid of continuing in his duty? Was he losing his nerves? Looking back at the most recent battle, he could not see any hesitation on his part to engage the French. Although, examining his feelings, he had to admit that Laughton's death had rattled him. He had indeed asked himself how many more times he would have to face death, both his own and that of those under his command. How many times is enough? He wagged his head. "I never saw things from this viewpoint, Richard. It was not consciously influencing my decision, but perhaps it made me see things differently." "Nothing wrong with that, Tony. You have seen more action than most other officers see in their entire life. Do what you think you need to do; you'll have my support. Asia should be due for a complete refit some time soon. When that time comes, your command will end anyway. You're not thinking of giving up the command immediately, are you?" Tony shook his head. "No, I was planning along the same lines. You have given me fresh food for thought, though." "Anthony, you have proven your mettle. What is left to prove? If you ask for extended leave to set your personal affairs right, who will judge you? I know it will be good for you, to find some rest, and it will be good for my daughter, to have her husband around." They walked back, speaking of other affairs. Cyril Fortescue had laid down the command of Clyde, to take command over a 74, the Nonsuch. Clyde was more than due for an overhaul, after her long stint in the Channel Fleet. She would be docked soon. Andrew, too, was a senior captain now and looking for his next command. Nobody was sure about Medusa's future, though. She was hogging now; her keel getting too soft after more than thirty years of service. The thought made Tony sad. Medusa had been his home for many years, in fact the time in her had made him the man he was now, in more than one way. "She was never a very good frigate," Richard Lambert broke into his thoughts. "Not even close to Clyde." "Yet, we captured Clyde in her," Tony pointed out, more than a little cross at his father-in-law's low opinion of his old ship. "I know, she is getting old, but she never let her captain and crew down when it counted." Richard Lambert spread his arms. "That's why it's time to decommission her, before that happens. Damn it, Tony, I've seen all my old ships scrapped already, and it tore my heart out the first time it happened. At least it seems we are building a number of new frigates, big ones. They want to take exact measurements of Clyde once she's in the dry dock. I hear they want to build three ships after her plan." "That's good news," Tony agreed. "We sorely need better frigates. I saw a drawing of one of the big American frigates, Constitution I think. Over two thousand tons and she's shipping 24-pounders, thirty-two of them, and twenty carronades. In foul weather, a frigate that size can match a 74." "Don't I know that," Richard Lambert sighed. "Fortunately, they only built three of them. Let's hope we're never pitted against them. Even their smaller frigates are bigger than most of ours. We shan't match those big ones, but our new ships should be a match to most anything else. Now, wouldn't you reconsider your stance if they offered you a frigate again?" Both men laughed, knowing that it was highly unlikely for a captain of Tony's seniority to be given a frigate. "I might, but then again, I have grown to enjoy the spaciousness of my cabin." ------- It was three days later, and Harriet was putting up a brave facade as her husband readied himself to climb into the coach. Anita was already sitting inside, having agreed to make an appearance in Portsmouth. Long ago, Tony had promised his officers an evening with Anita Heyworth. They had explained it to Penrose who had been gracious about it. His secretary had been less discreet, smiling smugly. "Take care of yourself, Tony. We need you to return," Harriet said, kissing him once more. "Soon, my dear, we will be together again. A few more supply runs to the Peninsula. The French will be leery to start another attempt, after the sound whipping we gave them." "There's more than the French, out there," Harriet pointed out. "I know. Asia is a lucky ship, though." "Bonne chance, mon amour!" she whispered, giving Tony a last kiss before she stepped back, waving a greeting to Anita who smiled back. Tony climbed into the coach, just as Jonathan rushed from the house, his hair still unkempt and his necktie in shambles. Up on the third floor, behind a window, the silhouette of Lucy could be seen, watching the departing coach. A crack of the whip, and the carriage lurched forward, taking Tony away again from the life he yearned for. ------- Chapter 23: Winter Storms Portsmouth, December 1808 Harriet and Anita Heyworth were both delightfully naked. With a wicked smile, Harriet had just latched her mouth on Anita's extended nipple, and Tony was preparing himself to climb between Anita's thighs, when John Little's voice shattered the life-like illusion. "Sir, sunrise in a half hour!" "Er ... whatisit ... oh, yes, right," Tony mumbled, embarrassed over the obvious erection which tented his blanket. John Little looked pointedly elsewhere to give his captain some privacy while Tony put on trousers, stuffing the shirt inside. Next came the woollen vest, and then his winter coat. No need for neckties and other niceties on a dreary winter morning. The stockings were made of bleached sheep wool and warmer than their silk counterparts, and the shoes were in fact short boots. Being a senior captain gave Tony some leeway with regard to uniform codes. He decided against shaving; there would be time enough later. His hair was still tied in a queue, and it was neat enough for this ungodly hour. Tony still felt the after effects of last evening's dinner, namely the effects of well aged French Brandy and he resolved to leave off the wines and spirits for a week. It had been a very special occasion, as he admitted to himself. The farewell dinner had featured Anita Heyworth as guest of honour, and it had left most of his junior officers quite speechless. HSH, Mr. Prince, had been particularly awed by Anita's presence. Her vivacious nature and her witty humour had deepened that feeling, and when Anita finally bade her good-byes, the young prince was thoroughly smitten by the older actress. Anita had left together with Margaret Maynard, and both would travel to High Matcham together before Anita planned to return to London and her make-believe paramour. For Tony, her stay in High Matcham had been pleasant and slightly disturbing at the same time. Sleeping with two women, one of them his wife and the other his former paramour, pricked his conscience but also re-awakened his long-buried desire for Anita. In a way, he was glad that she was returning to London. She was making his life – complicated. On deck, he could hardly make out the silhouettes of the masts in the darkness and prevailing light fog. His eyes took some time to adjust, and then it was almost time to ready the ship. "Mr. Chalk, kindly have capstan manned and the watches roused. Anchor up in a quarter hour." "Aye-aye, Sir!" his new second-in-command rapped in response. Seconds later the pipes sounded and sleepy men rushed to their stations. Sir William Maynard KB appeared on deck, too. Tony touched his hat. "Good morning, Sir William. Sun-up in ten minutes." "Good morning, Sir Anthony. Any sign of life from the other ships?" "Warspite is ready, Sir William, and I assume the same for Daring. As for the transports, I have a thirty-two pounder loaded with a sandbag charge," Tony grinned. "Yes, that story made the rounds," Maynard chuckled. "By the way, I noticed that your officers address you as "Sir" only. May I ask for the same brevity when you address me?" "Certainly, Sir," Tony answered spontaneously. "The address "Captain" should also suffice to call my attention." Maynard smiled. "Splendid, Captain. It was flattering during the first days, I'll be ready to admit, but it can be trying. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the honour, but I can do without the honorific." Tony bowed his head to acknowledge the bon-mot. He found that he liked the man behind the admiral's uniform. "I realised one morning how much time was wasted with the extra three syllables, Sir." "There is that, Captain. What about His Serene Highness? He is performing well, I trust? I was asked about him at court, and His Majesty's Secretary asked me to convey his appreciation to you. I expect him to be posted soon." "I should hope not too soon, Sir. With more experience, he'll make a good captain. If they post him now they will have to support him with an experienced First Lieutenant." It was time now. Tony gave Chalk a nod. Seconds later, a signal shot was fired from the forecastle. Asia's Lobsters - the sailors' nickname for the red-coated Marines - began to turn the capstan. Asia crept forward along her anchor cable while close to a hundred men on two decks threw their weight against the capstan bars. "Anchor's free!" came the shout from the forecastle. "Mr. Chalk, double-reefed tops'ls, if you please," Tony gave his next command. "Quartermaster, course south-southeast." "South-southeast, Sir, aye-aye, Sir!" came the laconic reply. After almost three years, the men could anticipate most of their captain's orders. While the land breeze caught the reefed topsails, Tony inspected the rest of the squadron. Warspite and Daring were under way, too, the latter already under full topsails to assume her vanguard position. As had to be expected, the transports with their smaller crews were lagging behind the men-of-war but not by much. For a brief moment, Tony reflected on the excellent business they had made with the cargo of wines and spirits they had brought back from Portugal. Of course, the sums earned would be dwarfed by the prize money from the two French battle ships but their investment had earned them 16 Shillings on the Pound. His own share had been enough to restock his cabin stores for a half year, even counting the quantities of Madeira and Port he had taken out for his own table. As flag captain Tony expected to host fellow officers regularly. Finally, the transports were falling in line behind Asia, while Warspite sailed as rear-guard. Slowly, the squadron crept through the inner harbour. Visibility was still poor, but even at this ungodly hour, there was a lively traffic of lighters and wherries all across the World's largest naval port. Soon they sailed past Round Tower and Square Tower and out into the still sheltered waters east of the Isle of Wight. "Can I entice you to have breakfast with me, Captain?" Maynard offered. "It would seem we have time enough before we have to jibe." "With the greatest pleasure, Sir," was Tony's automatic reply just as if he had a choice when invited by his admiral. The table was laid with all the delicacies one could expect just a half hour out of harbour. Maynard's steward had made a run for a baker before dawn, securing fresh bread that might keep for three or four days. The coffee was hot and strong, the bacon was still sizzling in the cast iron pan, and scrambled eggs completed a breakfast that was fit for a king. Maynard showed an excellent appetite and was quite upbeat in spite of the worrisome news that had come in in the recent days. "I imagine we'll have our hands full once we arrive. The last despatches had Boney driving the Dons to pairs in the South." "I hope that Moore can hold the North and Portugal, Sir. With Boney there in person, there'll be no half-assed conventions." Both men were referring to the newest development on the Spanish Peninsula. The Emperor Napoleon in person had taken command over the French troops and was sweeping into Spain at the head of a huge army. Now, barely a month after his first movements he was already threatening Madrid. The Spanish fought heroically but ineffectively, each local junta jealous of their neighbours and their troops ill-equipped and -trained. Only in the North the Spanish troops were able to offer meaningful resistance. There, General La Romana's well-disciplined troops were standing fast. "Moore has orders to join La Romana's army in Northern Spain, to bait the French," Maynard nodded. "If he stays close to the coast, we can support him. Sir Charles Cotton will shift his ships northward, too." "Shall we evacuate Moore and his men, Sir?" "Hard to say at this point. If the Dons cannot stop Boney, Moore's position will be untenable. Boney has 200,000 men, and all Moore can field are perhaps 30,000. I cannot see much of a chance. Perhaps, he can hold on to Portugal, at least. Let us see what intelligence Sir Charles has." They were to rendezvous with the squadron off Lisbon, the first direct contact with Sir Charles since Spring. It was likely that Maynard's independence was over and they would be part of the larger squadron. "Any evacuation from Northern Spain will be difficult in Winter, Sir," Tony mused. The Bay of Biscayne was a notoriously challenging water, especially in the cold season. "That cannot be helped," Maynard sighed. "I've looked up the charts. Corunna and Gijón are likely embarkation points, even Ferrol, and I don't like any of them." That started a technical discussion about the impending tasks. Too soon, Tony had to ask his leave to return to the quarterdeck, but the points raised during the breakfast gave him enough to think about. ------- The weather along the Portuguese coast was as unfriendly as one could expect in mid-December. The big ships were wallowing heavily in the waves, and the situation in the smaller craft would be much worse, Tony knew. For days, he had not worn dry clothes. Even under the heavy oilskin watch cloak, the constant spray found its way to the layers of clothing close to his skin. He felt cold and miserable. For the last two days, the fires had been out, effectively making the drying of clothes impossible, and adding to the cold misery officers and crew experienced. They were cruising in and endless zig-zag pattern, trying to find Sir Charles Cotton's ships, so far without success. Tony felt another small rivulet running down from his neck along his spine and he shuddered involuntarily. "The glass has been rising in the past two hours, Sir," Lieutenant Chalk announced at his side. "With luck, we'll get some better weather." "We can always hope, Mr. Chalk," Tony answered. "Infernal luck, to have a rendezvous in this weather." "Sir! Daring's signalling!" The shout came from the main top where the midshipman of the watch would be huddling under a tarpaulin. Seconds later, the young man came down over the ratlines and ran aft. "Sir, Daring signals, 'Six sails eight miles ahead, bearing SSE.' Masthead thinks he sees something, too." "Thank you, Mr. Uxbridge," Tony acknowledged the midshipman. "Runner, my compliments to Sir William, and we may have sighted the fleet." Maynard joined Tony within seconds. "A sighting?" he asked hopefully. "Daring has sighted six sails ahead of us." "Sail ho!" the lookout hailed from the masthead. "Four sails, no six, seven, there's another two; nine sails bearing SSE!" "That has to be Sir Charles," Maynard said, clapping his cold hands. "Very likely, Sir," Tony agreed. "We'll know for sure soon." Just then, the cloud cover opened for a few precious minutes and visibility improved dramatically. The officers on Asia's quarterdeck could spot the sails perhaps six miles ahead. "It's the old Neptune, Sir," the masthead hailed. "I can make her tops'ls!" "So far, so good," Maynard said, the relief evident in his voice. "Kindly bear down on her, Captain." The small convoy went closer to the wind and thrashed over the still angry waves, clawing closer and closer to the main fleet. Soon, they were within signalling distance. "Flag to Asia, 'Welcome. Form vanguard. Course North, C-o-r-r-u-n-n-a." Just minutes later, they were sailing bak the way they had come, now leading a long line of ships, twenty-eight sails strong. Sir Charles had mustered every sail he could assemble. By way of short bursts of signals, he briefed Maynard over the next hour. They were to head for Corunna, to rendezvous with Sir John Moore and to evacuate the British troops. Over the next days they made only pitiful progress. With a violent north-westerly storm blowing into their teeth, the fought their way northward close-hauled. For two days, they even had to heave-to, to ride down the gale, losing all of their gains. Christmas was celebrated in a tossing, cold ship, with the fires out. It was three days later when the wind finally moderated and a fire could be lit in the pantry. The still strong winds still did not allow much progress. The two-deckers could have made better headway, but the huge and unwieldy Neptune was a poor sailer, and such were most of the transports. Come New Year's Day, they had not even reached Oporto, and they were still fighting their way north. At least, they had a fire in the pantry and even coal basins going in the cabin and wardroom. It was smelly, but warm and served to dry the wet coats. Still, their infernal bad luck held when they encountered yet another violent winter storm which set them back by another week. The weather was horrible, sending even experienced tars into despair. Jonathan and his colleague were constantly busy mending the various injuries suffered when mere humans battled the sail canvas and the elements high on the yards. Asia lost three men to falls and another two were washed overboard, never to be seen again. Two dozen crew suffered injuries, ranging from dislocated shoulders to broken hip bones. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the gale weakened to a strong breeze which allowed them to struggle northward. They were already weeks behind their schedule, and Sir Charles showed his impatience with scathing flag signals for every further delay. Maynard was miserable and suffering great pain in the moist cold, but he maintained his composure. By January 15, they sighted Corunna, and it was obvious that there was heavy fighting – a battle even – going on around the city. There was no time to waste, and even in the dusk of the winter evening, the first boats were rowed ashore to assess the situation and to evacuate the first boatloads of wounded. Already busy, the surgeons worked through the night treating the various shot and stab wounds of Moore's men. On the morning, Marshal Soult began his attack on Corunna in earnest. At this point however, the British ships were able to support the defenders with their rolling broadsides. Moore had built up his position carefully, and all day the French attacks were repulsed while more and more of the expedition force made their way to the ships and to safety. By early afternoon, the news came that Sir John Moore had been hit by flying cannonball and suffered mortal injury. The French attacks, however, were repulsed time and again, until by late evening they fell back to their positions, thoroughly beaten back. The embarkation continued at a frantic pace all through the night. Tony was on his feet incessantly directing the efforts of his crew. By daybreak, the French had posted a six-gun battery on a promontory overlooking the anchorage and began to fire upon the transports, thus creating not a little panic among the embarked soldiers. Sir Charles brought the Neptune close, however, and the French battery was blown to smithereens by the Neptune's gunners. That ended all French efforts to interfere with the embarkation. By evening, all but the rear guard were evacuated, and those brave men made it to the ships during the night, while the senior captains and Maynard joined Sir Charles Cotton in Neptune for a tactical discussion. General Hope was also there, ragged and hollow-cheeked, but showing the pride of a victorious soldier. The French had been repulsed in open battle, and the British army could leave the Peninsula with their heads held high. "Gentlemen," Sir Charles started, "Let us raise in the memory of Sir John Moore. A man possessed of every quality desirable in a gentleman and almost unmatched as a soldier. Our sympathy goes to his family, his friends, and his comrades in arms." They all stood silently, watching their heads under the low beams nevertheless. Finally, Sir Charles spoke up again. "Our felicitations to General Hope, his officers, and his soldiers, for their victorious action!" The all bowed to Hope who was barely able to stand. Cotton had mercy, though, and after they sat again, refreshments were served. "Gentlemen, we shall sail in the morning, weather permitting. The squadron will sail directly for Portsmouth. From the reports I have received, almost all ships have suffered considerable damage during the two gales. Sir William, can your ships perform an extra task, nevertheless?" Receiving nods from his captains, Maynard nodded. "Yes, Sir Charles. We we able to repair most of the storm damage in the last two days. What extra task, if I may ask?" "I have been informed that the Spanish General La Romana has taken a stand against Marshall Soult's superior force, delaying the French sufficiently to allow the re-embarkation of our men. From what I heard from General Hope, Sir John Moore has promised General La Romana to evacuate any of the Spanish soldiers who may reach the port of Gijon. It's isolated enough for our purposes and only weakly fortified. I would ask you, Sir William, to make the attempt. I have no transports to spare, but then again, we do not expect many of the Spaniards to escape captivity in the face of the French superiority in numbers." "When should we sail, Sir Charles?" Maynard asked. "Can you make it out of Corunna tonight?" This time, Maynard did not look at his captains. "Yes, Sir Charles. The wind has veered to West, but there's no telling when it'll shift back to north-west. We better make that northward dash while the wind supports us. Are the Spanish still holding on to Gijón, and do we have any Spanish interpreters to make the contact?" "We have a Spanish-born bosun's mate, one Juan Garcia. He can come along," Captain Paynter said. "Juan Garcia? Small, swarthy, a scar on his forehead?" Tony asked, showing his surprise. "Yes, you know the man?" Paynter asked. "He sailed under me, both in Medusa and in Clyde and was a great help at times. I'll be glad to have his help." Garcia had assisted Tony as interpreter in '04, when the Clyde's crew had evacuated the monastery on Hispaniola, freeing British prisoners of war and rescuing Doña Maria from captivity. The discussions went on for a few more minutes, but Tony's mind was already busy, planning the next task. He would have to study the charts of Gijón's harbour, to make sure of the proper approach. If the wind kept blowing from the West, things would be easy, but once it shifted back to a northern direction, they would be trapped on a lee coast. ------- The westerly wind held over the night and during the next day, but the long rollers coming from the West did not allow them to sail a straight course for Gijón; the risk was too high that a ship would sail into the back of a roller. Instead, they sailed in north-easterly direction first before the ships gibed and headed south-east to make the coast near the small port. Gijón, at the time, was a small town with an insignificant harbour, but there was a well-suited beach to the west of the small harbour if the charts told the truth. They arrived when the dusk fell over the bleak coast line. No fishing boats were out at sea and thus they could not learn anything about the situation in Gijón. There was no choice but to send a side boat with Garcia and a small crew of volunteers to find out if the French were in charge of the place. Tony promised each crew member in the boat a Guinea reward for when they made it back with information. Thus motivated the six men set out on their dangerous reconnaissance. The ships anchored in the still deep water off the small town, a full mile from the shore, and Tony spent the next three, nerve-wrecking hours waiting for the return of the boat. Finally, the watch espied the boat fighting its way back to the ship. The men were panting heavily from the exertion of rowing a full mile in the choppy water and they were sent under deck where they received hot food and an extra ration of rum. Tony sat with them as they ate and drank and extracted what information they could give. "So, Garcia, what's the situation ashore?" Garcia's English had improved in the past years. "No Frogs in town, Sir, not yet, but they're marching on Gijón from the direction of León. La Romana was beaten and captured with most of his men. I went into town and met a few soldiers. There are two- or three hundred of them who escaped to Gijón and a hundred of the garrison, Sir. They will tell their Major that we are here." Now, Garcia paused, looking slightly dazed. "They also told me that they have a Princess with them. She was in León when the Frogs came closer, and she fled to the coast hoping for a fishing boat to take her away." "A princess? What princess?" Tony demanded. "A Doña Isabella de Burgos y León, Sir. She is the grandniece of King Carlos, the one Boney forced out." Tony shook his head. If she was of the House Borbón, then they had to bring her to safety. Yet, other things had to be decided first. "Who is in charge of the soldiers and the town?" "The sergeant I met will speak his Major, Sir. They'll probably send a boat tomorrow to parlay." "All right, Garcia, you turn in now. You are watch-free tonight; I'll need you come tomorrow." Tony doled out the promised reward to the volunteers and returned to the after cabin. There he reported to Maynard. "Sir, the French are in approach on Gijón. There are about three hundred Spaniards to evacuate. We'll know more tomorrow. There's also some princess, a grandniece of King Charles, who fled from León and may ask for evacuation." "A princess you say?" Maynard shook his head. "What on earth is she doing in Gijón?" Tony shrugged. "We have no information, Sir. With luck, the Spaniards will send out a boat tomorrow morning. Then we'll know more." "I guess. Well, Captain, let's get some sleep while we can. Have me notified if news arrive from the shore." Tony withdrew and after laying out his uniform and his watch cloak in readiness he dropped onto his cot for a few hours of sleep in the bucking ship. It was still dark when a runner came to wake him. "Mr. Prince's compliments, Sir, and there's a boat approaching." The young prince had the Morning Watch, and when Tony appeared on the quarterdeck, he could see that the young man had taken all necessary precautions. The boat was still waiting to leeward, shielded against wind and waves by Asia's massive bulk, and a dozen Marines had drawn up on deck, their muskets and swivel guns ready to thwart any attempts at foul play from the presumably Spanish boat crew. "Well done, Mr. Prince," Tony expressed his sentiment. "Let them hook on, if you please, and have Garcia roused." Just then, Garcia appeared on deck, meaning that the prince had foreseen the need for the interpreter. Another point in his favour. The man who came through the port was haggard and looked the worse for wear in his shabby uniform, but he certainly had not lost anything of his pride, standing tall in front of Tony. With Garcia's help, the preliminary exchange of names and titles was affected. Their visitor was one Major Carlos de Cordoba, of the Galician Infantry Corps - a militia officer in other words. He was older, perhaps fifty years, and he walked with a limp. Tony guessed that he was an invalid who was given a militia command. "Tell the Major that it is my pleasure to welcome him as an ally, and would he join me for breakfast in my cabin?" Yes, the Major had nothing against some food. Gijón was not yet besieged but already short on food. Tony led the way and found Maynard already waiting in the main cabin while the stewards were busy laying the table. With Garcia's help, more introductions were affected, and then Giles came with a pot of hot coffee, causing the Spanish officer to close his eyes with bliss. During the breakfast, the information gushed forth from the Major's lips. He had commanded a Militia Regiment defending León, and while the majority of the Spanish troops had been compelled to surrender at Mansilla de las Mulas, he and his men had managed to escape, mostly due to the Major's intimate knowledge of the terrain. On the way to Gijón they met a coach carrying the Princess Isabella who was fleeing from the approaching French. Here, the Major's eyes and voice conveyed deep admiration, for he recounted how the princess had offered her coach for some of the badly wounded soldiers while she sat with her driver instead, exposed to the cold and drizzle. Maynard then asked whether the Spanish soldiers wished to be evacuated from Gijón and offered to transport them to any port on the Spanish or Portuguese coast, or even to England. The Major replied proudly that he would remain in Spain to fight the French invaders. He asked for transportation to Santandér where the Spanish still held out, and Maynard nodded eagerly. Tony then asked whereto the princess should be conveyed, causing a worried look on the Major's face. He admitted that Santandér was probably besieged and that the princess should not be exposed to fighting or – God forbid – fall into the hands of the French soldiery. Tony made the suggestion to give her transport to England and place her under the protection of the Spanish envoy in London, a suggestion that was met with approval. An hour later the boats began the arduous task to ferry out over three hundred soldiers including thirty wounded. The first French skirmishers made themselves known, too, and the trusted Major Applethorn landed two hundred marines to cover the embarkation. The captains brought the ships closer to the shore, anchoring three cable lengths from the beach west of the town. Spring cables were put on the anchor cables, and the ships were cleared for action. Once the wounded Spaniards were safely on board the two 74s and under their surgeons' care, the next longboat transported the Princess. Lieutenant Mr. Prince was Officer of the Watch, and he stood with Maynard and Tony when the bosun's chair with the princess was hoisted on deck. The three men and a few others on deck inhaled sharply. Somehow, from the way the Major had spoken about the Princess, they had won the impression that she was an elderly matron. This assumption could not have been farther from the truth. The Princess Isabella was at most sixteen years old and in the full bloom of developing womanhood. Dark brown eyes with impossibly long, black eyelashes dominated her oval face. Her mouth was pale from the cold, but her lips were full. She was wearing a heavy wool cape with a hood, but the wind had whipped off the hood, and now her raven black braids were exposed to the men's looks. From the way the wind was pressing the cape against her body, Tony could see that she had a lithe build. Maynard stumbled over the Spanish welcoming phrases Garcia had taught them, and the princess briefly bowed her head and answered in a lilting English. "I thank you, Almiral, for your kind assistance. Will you be kind enough to present the other gentlemen?" "Hrhm," Maynard played for time. "Sir Anthony Carter, my Flag Captain, and this is, hrhm, Lieutenant His Serene Highness the Prince of Seitz-Bunau." A wide smile spread on the girl's face and she clapped her hands. "To travel under the protection of such distinguished officers and even a Sovereign Prince is a privilege. Let us hope the journey will serve to get us acquainted." "Your Highness speaks excellent English," Maynard observed, and the girl bowed her head to acknowledge the compliment. "My father hosted a captured Scottish officer until a cartel could be arranged. Colonel Allardyce spent over a year with us, and he taught us children English to pass his time. Sadly, he passed away last Spring before a cartel could be effected." Tony observed a narrowing of her eyes as if she felt pain, and her eyes hardened somewhat. Yet, she shook off the memory immediately. "Could you perhaps show me my lodgings, gentlemen?" This was Tony's cue, and he bowed politely. "Your highness, I'm afraid that the cabin intended for your use is not available for as long as this ship is ready for action. I have given orders to prepare a provisional accommodation for you, but that would be down on the orlop deck, only a few steps away from where the surgeons are working. May we trouble you to stay on deck with us? I shall provide you with a comfortable chair and with warm blankets, and my steward will be at your service. At the first sign of danger, but not earlier, we shall convey you to safety on the lower deck, but I would rather defer this until the necessity arises." The girl looked a little lost for a moment, but then she smiled bravely. "I understand. Let us hope against any further fighting." The stewards, assisted by John Little, quickly rigged a deck chair for the princess while her single maidservant fussed about her mistress. Fortunately, Harriet had left a few clothing items in Tony's cabin, such as a warm boat cloak of tightly woven wool cloth in which the young princess was wrapped. She had to forego warm food or drink just like everybody else in a ship that was ready for action. By noon, the Spanish militias had been ferried out to the British ships and the small squadron hastily weighed anchor. The wind was already veering towards north-west, and if they wanted to land the Spanish at or near Santandér, they had to do so before it became a full northern gale again. At least, there was no need to have the ship ready for action and by mid-afternoon Maynard could host the princess and his senior officers over a hot meal in the after cabin. Some enterprising fellow in the landing party had even procured cacoa beans and even fresh milk from an abandoned shop in Gijón, and hot chocolate, a rare treat, was served after the belated dinner. The princess had been given a chance to change, and she appeared at table in a burgundy red dress, with her hair bound into fresh braids and adorned with diamond-studded combs. Mr. Prince, now watch free, spent the entire dinner staring at this image of exotic, youthful beauty. The conversation was somewhat stilted since Major de Cordoba needed interpretations which Tony had to affect in his poor Spanish. Upon hearing him assault her mother tongue repeatedly, the princess took over this task, and the conversation became more animated. Major de Cordoba then asked the pointed question how a British naval officer had come into possession of a Spanish Grande's sword. The question was asked in an offended tone; clearly the Major suspected foul play involved. Thus, Tony had to recount his mission to Haiti/Hispaniola in '04, the planned evacuation of the monastery and the discovery of the prisoners. When he revealed the identity of Doña Maria, the young princess stared at Tony and started to smile. "Capitan, Maria Ruiz de Costa y Ledesma is my late father's cousin. My father received a letter from her, a few years ago, telling him about her strange adventures and about the chivalrous English captain who came to her rescue." She turned to the Major. "Don de Cordoba, el capitán fue galardonado con esta espada por sus méritos por Don Alonso Ruiz de Costa, Su Majestad el gobernador de Cartagena." (Don de Cordoba, the captain was awarded this sword for his merits by Don Alonso Ruiz de Costa, His Majesty's governor of Cartagena.) The Major now asked forgiveness for his curiosity which was granted for the story had served to lift the stilted mood. Maynard was clearly interested. "That sword must be worth a king's ransom, Captain. Is it the only blade you use?" "Sir, I still have my old sword, forged by Master Turner of Kingston, but the Toledo sword has a perfect balance for me. To answer the implicit question, yes, I used it in my duel with Mr. Selkirk." Maynard grinned. "That duel did a lot to put you in the public's eye, captain. You were the first man who ever bested Selkirk." "Luck was on my side, or perhaps I simply had more experience in real sword fighting. I was able to break his concentration." "It's a good thing, too, Captain," Maynard laughed. "The Navy can ill afford losing officers of your proven abilities." Fortunately, talk then shifted to other topics and soon it was time for Tony to beg his leave. He had to navigate a ship, after all, and the fresh air on the quarter deck helped him to chase away the uneasiness he always felt when reminded of his fallout with Harriet. ------- One advantage of the port of Santandér is its approaches. The narrow inlet into the wide, protected bay runs from east-southeast to west-southwest, allowing ships to leave the bay with all but northeastern winds - not a likely wind direction in the Bay of Biscay. The disadvantage is the difficulty to enter the inlet under western winds. Fortunately for the squadron, the wind had veered to northwest over night, and they reached the approaches to Santandér by late afternoon the following day. There was a Spanish Flag flying over Santandér's harbour fortifications when the ships rounded the small peninsula which shielded the inlet. Rather than entering the bay behind the narrow inlet, Maynard had the ships anchor in the roads south of the peninsula. Major de Cordoba was rowed to the shore to make contact, and they heard and saw nothing of him for hours. It was dark now, and the wind was picking up again, coming from due north and whipping up big rollers. The ships were anchored in the lee of the peninsula, but Tony decided to have his bow anchors weighed down with twelve pounder gun breeches to prevent the ship from dragging her anchors. It was not before the next morning that a small craft sailed out to the British squadron. Major de Cordoba was in it and he explained that it had taken some time for the local junta to accept the re-enforcement by the militias from León. Envy between the local juntas was a major disadvantage for the Spanish, and many promising campaigns had failed because of the overinflated egos of those regional commanders. Still an hour later, three lighters neared the ships under oars and some way or another all the Spanish militias were helped into the wildly tossing craft. Many of the men, not accustomed to the violent movements of the small vessels, became seasick in a manner of minutes and the Asia's crew watched them with superior amusement. Taking the gale force northern wind into account, Maynard decided to stay at anchor for the night, and the crew was busy enough to effect repairs to the storm-damaged rigging. Tony would have liked to take down the sails to have them repaired, but in the gale force winds that was not possible. During the night, the gale strengthened further and at daybreak Maynard gave orders to shift through the inlet into the inner bay. Here, the waves were broken at least and the wind less violent. The squadron remained at anchor for a full three days, and the wind never abated. Then, in the afternoon of the fourth day, there was a sudden lull in the gale. Fearing to be stuck in Santandér for weeks if they did not escape now, Maynard gave orders to make use of the temporary lessening of the winds and the squadron weighed anchor. The wind was still a three-reef northern when the ships made their way through the inlet. Their first leg was to northeast, to cross the outer bay. Looming ahead in the dusk was a rocky island which they had to pass to windward. Asia was leading, followed by Daring and by Warspite. Once past the lee of the peninsula that shielded the inlet, the ships were hit by the full force of the Atlantic rollers which had built up over days. It was a mad struggle to keep the ship close to the wind, but they seemed to be lucky. They were already halfway across the outer bay when suddenly the mizzen topsail developed a tear. Within seconds the sail was gone, torn to shreds once it was weakened. Deprived of the leverage aft, the ship turned its bow away from wind, much as the quartermasters fought against that. On Tony's command, the mizzen top staysail was raised, but it was too late. They could not pass the island to windward anymore. Remembering the charts, Tony decided on another course, right between the island and the coast. There was only a narrow passage according to the charts, but it was deep – at least eight fathoms. No rocks were charted either, and anyway it was their only chance other than beaching the ship. Maynard was on deck at his side and Tony turned to him briefly. "We must make the passage between the island and the coast, Sir!" he yelled against the raging storm. With a pained expression on his face, Maynard nodded. Gauging the wind and the sails, Tony had the quartermasters steer as closely as possible to the wind. Unfortunately, the mizzen top staysail did not provide the leverage they needed and to set the mizzen topgallant would lay them over too far. Under the leadership of the bosun Mr. Brommer, the mizzen top men were cutting away the torn shreds of the old topsail. Now the passage was ahead. The breakers along the coast gave them some visual aid. Tony had the relief tackles manned to support the quartermasters in their mad struggle keeping the ship on the only possible course to safety, but that slowed down the steering down, too. They were halfway through the passage and a few men on the quarterdeck began to smile with relief, when the lookout yelled something at the top of his lungs. It was unintelligible in the din of the storm, and Tony was just about to climb up himself when a giant fist slammed into Asia's starboard side, throwing each and every man to the deck. They had run aground! An icy feeling washed over Tony while he struggled back on his feet. Around him, the mizzen top crew was lying on deck, bones broken in their fall, and screaming with pain or deathly quiet. Just now, the quartermasters struggled back to their feet. Tony noticed that Asia was not stuck, she was swimming, and her sails were drawing. They must have bumped sideways against a submerged rock. That meant there was hope. "Keep her going, as close to the wind as possible!" Tony yelled at the quartermasters. The iron discipline prevailed. In a manner of seconds, any man still conscious was at his post again. There was Maynard, bleeding from a cut in his forehead. "We must assess the damage!" he yelled to which Tony nodded. He grabbed a sailor by his shirt. "Send for the carpenter!" he yelled. Wonders over wonders, the carpenter appeared a moment later. "Damage report! Now!" Tony yelled at the man, not caring about his countenance. The man scurried below. "Man all pumps! Bail her, if you ever want to see England again!" Tony ordered next. Lt. Prince was there, his coat torn and blood running down from his left eye brow. "Aye-aye, Sir!" he yelled back. Only seconds later, the lively clank-clank of the pumps rose over the noise of the storm. Some brave souls had started to pump even before the orders came. Good men! Here was the carpenter. "Hull's smashed in, from nº 4 knee to nº six, Sir! Water's coming in between the planks, but they're holding so far." "How deep below the waterline?" "Under the orlop deck, Sir, in the hold. We've got three foot of water in the bilge." "Rig all the pumps we have. I'll try to pull a sail over the leak, but right now we must clear the coast first." "Three feet doesn't sound too bad," Maynard shouted, having listened in on the carpenter's report. "May get worse when the planks work themselves loose in the waves, Sir," Tony answered. A look around told him that they were through the passage. Of course, the other ships were out of sight, behind the island, and on another tack already, if they knew their business. Asia had to beat to east-northeast for a while longer before they could dare to tack. Anyway, they had to stop the leak if they wanted to make it. Chalk was nowhere to be found, Tony noticed suddenly. "Where's Mr. Chalk? Pass the word for the First Lieutenant!" he ordered. The Midshipman of the Watch, a boy named Weatherby, saluted. "Sir, Mr. Chalk, he was standing near the lee mizzen shrouds when we hit the rock. When I came back to my feet, he was gone." Thrown overboard by the impact! For a brief moment, Tony thought of the man, but then he had to focus on his duty. It was time to tack. There was Mr. Prince, waiting for orders. "We need the mizzen sail, Mr. Prince. See that it's set with a triple reef and prepare for tacking." "Aye-aye, Sir," the young man answered in a composed manner. "Mr. Eldridge is down in the sick bay, Sir. He was knocked unconscious." "Very well, Mr. Prince, you are my First Lieutenant now. Get that mizzen sail up, if you please." It took almost fifty men to set the triple-reefed mizzen sail, but the effect was tremendous. Once again, the leverage was balanced, and Asia responded to her rudder the way she should. What an infernal luck that the mizzen tops'l had torn in the worst possible moment! "Do you think she'll hold, Captain?" Maynard asked. "Should we return to Santandér?" Tony shook his head. "There's no dry dock in Santandér, Sir. We go in there, and we're trapped." Maynard nodded sagely, but then he smashed his fist into his open palm. "Damn it all to hell! That's the second flagship I'm about to lose!" "We're not lost yet, Sir. We need to drag a sail over the damaged hull, to slow down the water, but the water is barely rising in the bilge." "Very well, then, Captain. Let me know where I can help. We are short of officers it seems. Should I volunteer my flag lieutenant?" Tony did not have the best opinion of Mr. Bellows, the flag lieutenant. With his seniority, he would be the new Nº1, and that was not what they needed. "I'd rather wait, Sir, until I know Mr. Eldridge's condition." Tacking went as well as anybody could ask for under the conditions, and now with the damage done and human life claimed, the wind abated noticeably. Over the next two hours, a crew under the sailmaker's direction prepared the spare main course for being hauled over the damaged hull. The placing of the big sail took another two hours filled with hard work, curses, and many smaller injuries, but then the carpenter was able to report that they were taking less water. In fact, the water in the bilge went down from five feet to three, and Tony was able to allow half of the pump crews to rest. The damaged Asia fought her way westward in the dark. By daybreak, they even sighted the rest of the squadron and by now the wind was a mere two-reef breeze. Still, the damaged hull and the burst planks gave off horrifying groaning noises in the still high waves. Everybody on board listened to the sounds of the wounded ship fearing it would break apart at some point. Tony even suggested that Admiral Maynard shifted his flag to Warspite but the young admiral only shook his head. Lunch that day was shared in the after cabin. The Princess was there, pale and frightened after the horrifying experience. Fortunately, she had been lying in her cot when the Asia hit the rock, and she had only suffered minor bruises. The rest of the crew had not fared that well. Jonathan and his normally pompous German colleague were silent, pale, and haggard at table, clearly wanting for sleep, after spending the night and the whole forenoon splinting broken arms and legs and closing gashes. Mr. Eldridge joined them at the table, a bandage around his head, and constantly squinting from the splitting headache he endured. He was not yet able to do his duty, and Mr. Prince filled the position of First Lieutenant for the time being. With the ever weakening norther wind abeam, the squadron sailed along the Spanish coast line. Fortunately, the wind shifted to a western direction during the next day. They were almost off La Corunna by then, and the shift of the wind allowed them to steer a north-northeastern course for Ouessant. If the Asia held together for five days, maybe six, they would make it back to Portsmouth. ------- Chapter 24: A Clerical Error London, March 1809 Captain Sir Anthony Carter read the brief order again. Sir Anthony Carter Captain, HMS Asia Sir, you are hereby requested and required to appear before a Court of Inquiry on the 20th, on board HMS Asia, to give testimony as to the circumstances that led to the grounding of HMS Asia on the 24th of January, off Santandér, Spain. You are furthermore requested and required to present said Court of Inquiry with any such evidence as will shed light on the happenings on January 24th. Wm Wellesley-Pole, Secretary to Their Lords Commissioners Tony smirked. A Court of Inquiry was only a step shy of a Court-Martial, and perhaps it was a step towards one. They had made it back in the damaged Asia, had even reached Portsmouth, against the earlier plans to seek safety in Falmouth. The dry docks were all busy, but it was decided by the harbour admiral to float the half-finished Malta out of her dock. In all haste, Asia's ordnance and ammunition stores were removed, lightening her by over 400 tons before she was docked. Once the dock was drained, Tony viewed the damage himself. It was not pretty. Over a length of twenty-two feet the hull was bashed in. The copper sheets had been torn off, and it was only owed to the excellent workmanship of the French shipwrights that the planks had held, badly mangled as they were. Three of the starboard side knees had also cracked, causing the groaning noises of the hull in the heavy seas. The work was halted then, and a commission was instituted to assess the damage and make recommendations about Asia's future. After weighing the repair costs against the value of the ship it was finally decided to refit the ship. She was paid off, however, and effective the 1st of March, Tony was on half-pay. Asia's crew was transferred to receiving ships to await their next posting. There was nothing Tony could do in Portsmouth, and he travelled to High Matcham to await the next stages of the drama. He was a restless man, though, worrying about his immediate future. Repercussions were more than likely given the damage Asia had sustained. Sitting out in the countryside he was cut off from information and that worried him. Thus, he and Harriet decided to open the house on Camden Court in London where he would be able to be closer to where decisions were made. It was the first time that he ever spent a night in the house which had been Rupert Palmer's and this fact unsettled him further. Now he had to face a Court of Inquiry. Admiral Lambert had tried to calm him, telling him that such an inquiry was inevitable. It was true that he bore no responsibility for sailing in the Bay of Santandér in the middle of a violent winter storm. That was for Maynard to explain. It was also true, however, that the condition of his ship was his responsibility, and that included the sails. Ultimately, the failure of the mizzen topsail was the cause for the grounding. Could he have prevented that? Had there been time to control the condition of the canvas? It was true, too, that he had planned to give up his command, to devote more time to Harriet and the children, but to be beached in infamy would be an altogether different story. His one consolation was Harriet. She was finely attuned to her husbands feelings and anxieties, and she had done her very best to distract him. Every night she had given herself to him, letting him know of the unconditional love she felt for him. In her soothing embrace Tony had found some peace of mind. Yet, during the next days, she would not be able to help him for he had to travel to Portsmouth to attend the Court of Inquiry. A "friend" would not be required, as this was not a Court Martial. Yet, he had received encouraging notes from various places. Maynard himself had given Tony a copy of his own report in which he stressed the tactical necessity of leaving Santandér and the unexpectedly strong gale force winds which they encountered in the outer bay. It also helped that seven of Sir Charles Cotton's ships had also suffered severe damage in the same storm. Only, they had sailed on the open sea, and the damages were restricted to masts and rigging. "Do not fret, my dearest," Harriet's sweet voice interrupted his train of thoughts. "The Court of Inquiry will only be held to exonerate you fully. I have it from my mother, and you know how well she is connected." Tony forced himself to smile. "I know, believe me, but such courts can be tricky things. I want to take a leave, but I don't want to be beached under a cloud." "Darling, the Court will comprise of fellow captains. Do you earnestly believe that they will hold you accountable for storm damage? That shoe can be on the other foot in no time. I cannot believe that they would want to set such a precedent." That made more sense than any other thing he had thought about. His smile was genuine when he put his arms around Harriet. "I have a very prudent wife. Be patient with me when I have self doubts." "I have them, too, but as a rule, I do not doubt you," Harriet smiled back, relieved at his reaction. "Oh, we shall have visitors for dinner. Again." Tony suppressed a groan. 'No good deed goes unpunished, ' he thought. As it had turned out, the Spanish Envoy in London was reluctant to accept the Princess Isabella as his house guest. Tony could understand that now. He had offered temporary accommodations - with Harriet's enthusiastic agreement - and now not an evening went by without some Spanish expatriate inviting himself to dine with the princess. Those dinners were invariably stiff affairs, with a constant need for translations and explanations. Tony did not begrudge the young princess who had shown herself to be of a very pleasant and amiable disposition, but he resented many of her countrymen. "Who is it today?" he asked listlessly, and his worst fears became true. "The Conde de Alcalosa," Harriet smirked. She shared Tony's dislike of the man. A little over forty years old, portly and with the face of a degenerate, he showed an interest in the young girl that was revolting given her youth and beauty. Yet, he was a leading voice among the small Spanish expatriate community in London and slated for 'greater things' as Harriet had heard. Now Tony's groan was open. "Not he again!" he protested sotto voce. "I swear, Harriet: Another of his tactless remarks to you, and I'll carve him up like the fat Christmas goose he is!" On occasion of his last visit, the Conde had remarked that Harriet was hardly a fitting Dueña for a princess, given her low birth. Tony had not been present then and had only heard about the remark second hand or he would have issued a challenge and let the man have a taste of the finest Toledo steel, diplomatic complications be damned. "Let me ask Isabella whether she really appreciates his visits. Perhaps we can claim that she is indisposed at his next call." That was what they settled on, and in the evening Tony and Harriet had to bear the presence of the Conde. Thankfully, the princess claimed indisposition immediately after the main course and the Conde left shortly thereafter. Once he had left, the princess came back down and asked for a talk. "My dear Sir Anthony and Lady Carter, I must apologise for the inconvenience I have put you through. I have perceived your lack of enthusiasm for the Conde's frequent visits. I expect, however, that my guardian and uncle, Don Eduardo Villa y Cortez, will have me join him in Colombia. Since the Conde has been appointed by His Majesty's Crown Council to succeed Don Alonso as governor of Cartagena, his suit for me will not be opposed by my uncle." She looked anything but enthusiastic and Tony fought the temptation to offer a comforting embrace to this young girl who was destined to be a pawn for her uncle's ambitions. Harriet had no such compunctions and she hugged the princess with feeling. "This is not to offend you, my dear, but should you decide to refuse any such schemes you can count on our support. I was married against my will once, and no girl should suffer such violation of her will." "I am bound by my duty," the princess said sadly. "It has been explained to me by my Dueña. I was waiting for the summons in León when the French approached. My flight to Gijón was but a deferral of what must happen." "So you were promised to the Conde already?" Tony asked. "I did not know him then. Now that I do ... I fear my will has no bearing." "Regardless, Your Highness can always claim our hospitality," Tony said with emphasis, totally forgetting in this moment that his own position may well be in hazard in a few days. Harriet cast him a grateful smile and nodded her assent. "My husband speaks for me, too." The young princess smiled shyly and blushed. "You have been gracious hosts. My poor mother died when I was but a small girl and I have barely a clear memory of her. Living with you in the last weeks, Lady Carter, has given me a notion of what I have missed." With that, the girl retired leaving Tony and Harriet at a loss of how to handle the situation. ------- At least, the Conde did not call upon them again in the next days. Three days later, Tony took a coach to Portsmouth, two days ahead of the inquiry. He lodged in the George, not far from the dockyard and spent most of the next day on board the Asia going over the logbook, the written orders, the charts and over the duplicate of Maynard's report. Maynard had been absolutely loyal to his flag captain, making it clear that he had ordered to sail from Santandér and that he had weighed the weather conditions agains the necessity to leave the port before it might fall to the French. Tony also went over Mr. Chalk's reports, the minute details of when the sailmaker had inspected which sail for rot and tear. All this was listed in painstaking detail in poor Chalk's clear handwriting. The mizzen topsail had indeed been inspected during the evacuation of Moore's troops from Corunna, and no faults had been detected with it. Tony went over the charts again using his magnifying glass, but there was no hint of the submerged rocks in the passage. Gradually, he relaxed, arriving at the conviction that no blame could be attached to him. There were examples for captains who had run aground through no fault of their own: even Admiral Pellew – arguably the best sailor England could boast – had run his Arethusa aground in '98 or '99, barely bringing her to port with all hands at the pumps. Tony spent the evening in the common room of the George, studiously avoiding any places where he might run into the captains who would sit on the Court of Inquiry. He avoided any spirited drink that evening, contenting himself with a thin ale. John Little watched him like a hawk all evening, but Tony had decided to stop worrying and he calmly read a book in his room by the light of an oil lamp until it was time to go to bed. All reassuring facts aside, he was still nervous when he prepared himself on the next morning. He forced himself to eat his breakfast in leisure, he drank three cups of the excellent tea the George offered, and he made like he was studying the morning papers. His inner excitement grew however and it cost him a great deal of effort to walk calmly towards the dockyard. The pipes of the anchor watch shrilled when he stepped on the deck, just as it was proper, and a sergeant of the marines bade him wait in the chart room. He could hear the pipes when the members of the court arrived and it was only shortly after that he was called into the after cabin where the court had assembled on one side of the table Tony had purchased three years ago. The court was headed by a vice-admiral, Sir Winston Piedmont, a veteran of the West Indian station and currently on half-pay. He also recognised Captain Drummond whom he knew from his time in the Medusa. The other three captains were unknown to him, all senior to him, and all but one without current command. Piedmont started the questioning. "Sir Anthony, we are here to establish the exact circumstances under which HMS Asia ran aground off Santandér. We are given to understand by the written testimony of Sir William Maynard that he gave specific orders to leave port, in spite of the adverse weather conditions. Do you wish to comment, Sir Anthony?" "Sir William made the decision, Sir Winston, but I agreed with his reasoning wholeheartedly." "In spite of the raging storm?" Captain Drummond asked. "Sir, there was no way of telling how long the Spanish would be able to keep the French out of Santandér. Once the place was in French hands, it would have been almost impossible to escape from the inner bay." "Very well, Sir Anthony," Piedmont nodded. "Now for the situation in which you decided to navigate the narrow passage between the island and the coast line. In your report you stated that the mizzen tops'l gave way. Had there been any indication of its weakening?" "No, Sir Winston. As stated in the late Mr. Chalk's reports, the sailmaker had inspected the sail in question during our brief stay at Corunna. There was no indication that it might be damaged." "Very well, Sir Anthony. Now, with the leverage of the mizzen tops'l lost you could not keep your intended course, is that true?" "Yes, Sir Winston. We had to sail close to the wind to pass the island safely on the windward side. To go about was now impossible without the leverage of the mizzen tops'l and there was not enough leeway to gybe. I decided then to sail the passage instead. I hoped that we would be able to set sails aft in the shelter of the island." Now, Drummond spoke up. "Sir Anthony, did you study the charts of the entire bay, including that passage, before you sailed from Santandér?" There was a certain sharpness in that question, and the other members of the court looked at Drummond with surprise. Tony had his answer pat, however. "Indeed, Sir, I did. The chart indicated sufficient depth and no rocks or shallows were charted." "Yet, Sir Anthony, you ran your ship against a rock. Is it possible that you may have overlooked the marked rocks in your chart?" Thank God he had studied the charts again the day before, Tony thought. He could respond with decisiveness, therefore. "No, Sir, there was no oversight on my part. The chart showed no rocks in the passage." Drummond bent sideways and produced a rolled-up sea chart. He unfolded it on the table and looked at Tony accusingly. "Well, Sir Anthony, perhaps you can be so kind and tell us what you can see on this Admiralty chart of the Bay of Santandér?" Tony stepped forward, nonplussed. After one look at the chart, however, he felt his blood leave his face. There, in black ink on Drummond's chart, were four elongated shapes in the passage, indicating rocks. The blood that had left his face returned with a vengeance, colouring Tony's face in the deep purple of anger. Again! Again he was the victim of an incomplete sea chart. With an effort, he swallowed his anger. "Sir, if you'll allow me to bring my own chart? I distinctly remember that my chart did not show those rocks." "How is that possible, Sir Anthony?" Drummond asked impatiently. "I do not know, Sir. I know that I re-examined the chart just yesterday afternoon, and I found no markings for those rocks, Sir." Before Drummond could respond, Piedmont made a pacifying gesture. "Gentlemen, please! Sir Anthony, kindly produce your sea chart so that we may resolve this point." It took Tony only a minute to find the chart and to return. With an unintended flourish he spread the chart side by side with Drummond's. "What all due respect, Sir, would you please return the favour and examine my chart?" The heads of five senior officers bent over the offending sea chart. Now it was Drummond's turn to blush. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat before he answered. "Sir Anthony, my most profuse apologies! I would not believe it were not the evidence right before my eyes. How is this possible? The entire passage looks like it has been drawn from memory only. That promontory here, it is lacking, too! This is revolting!" "Indeed it is, gentlemen," Piedmont concurred. "Does this settle your concerns, Captain Drummond?" "Indeed it does, Sir Winston. Again, my apologies, gentlemen!" Piedmont had a final question. "Sir Anthony, was this chart among the package you received from the Admiralty?" "Yes, Sir. If I may, here is the name of the drawing room supervisor," Tony answered, pointing at the painstakingly executed signature. "Quite, quite," Piedmont muttered. "I shall keep this as evidence and to prevent its future use. I shall sign a receipt for you, Sir Anthony." "Thank you, Sir Winston," Tony answered, feeling a great relief. The mood in the cabin had changed profoundly. For the next ten or fifteen minutes, the court members asked more questions, mostly concerning the casualties on board and the efforts to make the ship seaworthy again, but then they ran out of issues. Tony was excused and asked to return an hour after noon, for the Court was certain to have finished its inquiry by then. Leaving the cabin, Tony saw Mr. Prince, the sailmaker Mr. Edwards, and the bosun, Mr. Marsh, the latter with his broken arm in splints. He just nodded to them as more was not proper and left the ship. Once on the quay, he exhaled deeply. He could be certain now to be exonerated by the Court of Inquiry. The cloud over his head was lifting, and his step was light as he headed for a coffee house. Now he could really read the newspapers, sipping an excellent coffee and even indulging in a piece of honey cake. The first cup was followed by a second and then a third, and then it was time for lunch. A Sovereign the poorer, Tony left the coffee house at a quarter to one and headed back to the dockyard. There was no delay either; he was led into the after cabin immediately, and Sir Winston gave him a friendly smile. Tony stood erect in front of the table while Sir Winston put on a pair of reading glasses and shuffled a few papers. Then he looked first at Tony and then at the papers and began to read from the top sheet. "Court of Inquiry over the grounding of HMS Asia off Santandér on January 24th, held on March 20th on board HMS Asia. "Sirs, the Court of Inquiry has reached the following conclusions. Firstly, the grounding of HMS Asia on the 20th of January 1809 was due to an unfortunate combination of coincidence, extremely adverse weather conditions and negligence. Secondly, the loss of the mizzen topsail of HMS Asia was an unforeseeable incident and not due to negligence on the part of Asia's captain, her officers, or her crew. Thirdly, the severity of the weather encountered upon leaving Santandér Bay was such that sails and rigging were under severe strain and very little options remained for her captain once the mizzen topsail was damaged. Fourth, a negligently drawn sea chart failed to point out the navigational hazards HMS Asia was facing, leaving her captain and sailing master unaware of said hazards. "This Court of Inquiry gives the following recommendations. Firstly, no blame can be attached to captain, officers and crew of HMS Asia who conducted themselves according to the best traditions of the Royal Navy. Secondly, we recommend a speedy re-reappointment of captain and officers of HMS Asia. Thirdly, efforts should be made to improve the supervision in the chart drawing rooms of the Admiralty to avoid future mishaps of the same sort and magnitude." Piedmont took off his reading glasses. "I thank you for your patience and testimony, Sir Anthony. You are excused." That was it. The solemn faces split in smiles and Tony had his hands shaken by all involved. Drummond was still uncomfortable, but Tony shrugged it off. "Sir, had the situation been reversed, I would have asked the very same questions." "That is kind of you to say, Sir Anthony," Drummond answered, obviously relieved. "I hope to meet you again under less officious circumstances." "If that means without my almost losing a ship, I should be pleased, Sir." "Well, at least this outcome clears you for coming tasks," Piedmont said ominously. "Sir?" Tony asked, feeling a coming apprehension. "I probably shouldn't tell you, but you'll know in a few days anyway. The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs has put in a request to have you seconded for a delicate semi-diplomatic mission. Something about that princess you picked up in Spain. Let us hope she'll be better luck than the first time." Tony swallowed while he put two and two together. The princess was to join her guardian in Colombia, while her intended groom, the Conde, was slated as successor to Don Alonso in Cartagena. He would have to sail them to Cartagena. He would see Maria again. Harriet would be distressed, and he would be confused and insecure. It seemed that recently all his past affairs were catching up with him. He shook himself out of the musing. "Oh, I see, Sir Winston. I don't have a command though. Asia will take a while in revision." "I recommend you take a look around the dockyard. You'll see a fine ship, just out of the dry dock from refitting. Then again, the French do build excellent hulls." "I will do that, Sir Winston. My thanks for the heads-up, too." Tony sighed. When he stepped on the deck, he let his eyes scan the harbour for men-of-war. There! Four cable lengths into the inner harbour lay HMS Clyde, his old frigate, the best ship he had ever sailed. She shipped her lower masts only, and her freshly painted hull was gleaming in the early spring sun. This would truly be a journey into his past. Tony shook his head, speaking to himself under his breath. "Harriet will not be happy." ------- "I am so happy!" Harriet gushed as soon as Tony alighted from the single horse cab. She must have been ready and waiting for him, for she was dressed for the cool weather and wore street shoes. "Anita told me about the plans. It is such a great honour for you, and now I can even accompany you!" "You ... How... ?" was all that Tony managed to stammer in response. Harriet smiled smugly. "You were selected to convey Isabella to Cartagena, and in your old ship, the Clyde, imagine that! Anita has it from her make-belief paramour. With your friendship to the governor and his wife they think that you are ideal for this task. And Isabella has asked for me to accompany her as her dueña because her insufferable suitor will be travelling with us. He will replace your friend as governor it was decided." Tony had spent another two days in Portsmouth, having his personal effects recovered from the Asia's cabin and cabin storage. Now, if Harriet's information was true – and it matched Piedmont's gossip – he would make use of that gear soon again. "You will accompany me, I mean the princess?" Finally, Tony was able to speak coherently. "Yes. Mother has volunteered to look after the children. I believe that Anita put her up to it. Anita knows that I would be uncomfortable with you travelling to meet your Spanish lady again." That brought a smile to Tony's lips. "You will watch over me I take it?" "You had better believe it, too," Harriet replied. "Now, my dear, do come in! Oh, dear, I almost forgot: the information is already out that you were completely exonerated by the Court of Inquiry. My felicitations, darling. You must be relieved." "I suppose I am. Such courts are always tricky, but all the issues were resolved." They went inside. The house still felt strange to Tony but he had to acknowledge that it was beautifully located and offered ample space. Had he bought a house himself it would have been on a less grand scale, but there was nothing wrong with this city house other than the memories it might hold for Harriet. However, even Harriet was comfortable. She had told him that while there was the association with Rupert Palmer, there were also the fond memories of the time spent with Lucy and Moira that balanced the emotions she felt. It certainly was a more than adequate home for a captain and Knight of the Bath. The table was laid for the noon meal which they took together with the princess and their stepdaughter. Little Richard – at two and a half years – was not yet ready for the dinner table but Emily mastered her manners just fine. Jenny was in Portsmouth to be near to Eric Johnsen who was temporarily assigned to a receiving ship together with the rest of Asia's crew. Jonathan was in London, having asked for his leave from duty. His share of the prize moneys would help him rebuild his practice and Lucy was happy to have her husband back. The meal was taken in good spirits although Tony found the princess less than enthusiastic over her prospects. Tony avoided studiously to call upon the Admiralty on his own initiative. He was exonerated, his command over Asia was over, and he was in no hurry to find re-employment. In fact, staying with Harriet suited him just perfectly for the time being. ------- In fact, he was granted almost a week of leisure at home before he received a summons to the Admiralty. He was received there by Mr. Wellesley-Pole, another Wellesley brother who currently served as Secretary to their Lordships. Tony wore his Nº2 uniform with the finest white breeches and silk stockings, and his show buckles were solid gold. He was every bit the successful senior captain when he entered Wellesley-Pole's sitting room. His host rose politely to welcome him. "Ah, Sir Anthony, how nice of you to come on such short notice. My brother, Sir Arthur, charged me to convey his greetings and respect. You come highly recommended, Captain." "Thank you, Sir. I feel the greatest respect for Sir Arthur and I consider it a privilege to have cooperated with him." "You say the nicest things, my dear Captain. May I also express my regret over the dreadful affair of the faulty sea charts? As a matter of fact, we shall have to re-issue all charts prepared of that coast in the past four years. One of the clerks was suffering from bad eye-sight, it would seem, and his supervisor was not up to his responsibility either. Be assured that we have implemented safeguards against any future repeats." "That is indeed reassuring, Sir," Tony answered. "Now for the reason of your visit. His Excellency, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, has requested your service for a semi-diplomatic mission. You are friendly with his Most Catholic Majesty's governor of Cartagena?" "I was able to ingratiate him to me, back in '04. He gifted me this sword, Sir." "He must be very grateful, indeed, Sir Anthony. Now, your friend will be supplanted by the Conde de Alcalosa who currently resides in London. The Spanish exile Crown Council has asked for transportation to effect this transition, and you, Captain, were selected to convey the Conde to his destination. For this purpose, it was decided to give you command of His Majesty's ship Clyde which you should know well." "Thank you, Sir." "Now, their Lordships are of course aware of the fact that you are too senior to command a mere frigate. We must also consider your position when you arrive at Cartagena. It was therefore decided to give you the rank of Commodore First Class for this mission. Captain His Serene Highness The Prince of Seitz-Bunau will command the ship. His Majesty's government decided to have him gazetted, but Their Lordships feel more comfortable if he gets acquainted with his new responsibilities under your tutelage. The sloops of war Kite and Thetis will sail with you and transport part of the Conde's train." "Indeed, Sir," Tony sighed, and Wellesley-Poly grinned openly. "Do not complain, my dear Sir Anthony. You owe this constellation your new rank. Now, as for the crew you ... His Serene Highness will need, he will be allowed to assemble it from the Asia's crew." That was another sign of the patronage the young prince enjoyed. Assembling a crew was a brutal chore for freshly appointed captains, but the Admiralty just gave him a pass on this ornery task. "I see, Sir. Things will be crowded in Clyde." "Not to worry, Sir Anthony. This was taken care of during her refit. She is destined as lead ship for fast squadrons, and the dockyard expanded the living quarters aft. Now, your written orders will reach you in the next days. I believe the Lady Carter will be accompanying you, or rather, the princess." "That would be most welcome, Sir," Tony said in response. "When should we sail?" "I'd say, a month from now. I should also tell you to be diplomatic around the Conde. From what I understand, he is not the easiest person with whom to have dealings." "I shall handle him, Sir. As a matter of fact, he has thrice been a visitor at our house." "Then, Captain, I certainly commiserate with you." ------- Chapter 25: The princess and the Ogre Clyde had left the dry dock two weeks before, after a thorough overhaul. She was a sound ship but she had been in dire need of a new copper bottom. While her main deck armament – twenty-six 24-pounder bronze guns – had been fitted with new flintlocks, her 12-pounder guns on quarterdeck and forecastle were replaced by 24-pounder carronades giving her exceptional firepower for a frigate. Only four 12-pounder guns remained as bow and stern chasers. She had also been given a rebuild of her aft section, with added cabins and a larger stateroom. She was intended as flagship for fast flotillas and the refitting added the necessary quarters for a flag officer or commodore. Of course, she was also ideally suited to convey a royal personage to her destination. Tony had received his orders two days ago and he was back in Portsmouth to confer with Acting Captain His Serene Highness the Prince of Seitz-Bunau. The freshly appointed captain had not yet seen his posting in the Naval Gazette – hence the acting rank – but he was certainly not dawdling. He had picked officers and crew from the Asia's complement and his main problem had been to turn down those who could not find a berth in the smaller ship. Clyde was a frigate – a big one at that and fast – and thus considered one of the sweetest raisins in the big pudding of the Royal Navy. To serve in her was a privilege. Tony found his new quarters more than adequate. As commodore he had the newly built port side cabin. The prince would normally have the use of its starboard counterpart but this cabin was now reserved for the Princess Isabella. Two more cabins had been built: one would be occupied by the prince and the other by the conde. The latter was a ranking official but in a Navy ship the squadron commander came first. The princess was from a Royal House and the prince was a ruling monarch, albeit without land. Thus, the conde would be the low man, so to speak. Tony's orders were to convey the conde and his advisers to Cartagena where he would take office as new governor. He was also to transport the princess safely into the hands of her uncle. There was also the provision that he was to attend all ensuing festivities as representative of His Majesty King George. Another paragraph in his orders dealt with the delicate situation of the newly appointed captain of HMS Clyde. Tony was to "afford His Serene Highness with the guidance and support deemed necessary for the transition into his new rank". There was also the interesting point that Tony would be captain and commodore with a supernumerary captain attached for the day to day handling of the ship. In other words: the prince was not in official command of Clyde. If he were to fail in his tasks their Lordships would be quick enough to lay the blame on the rightful captain – Tony – while washing their own hands of the situation. Tony shrugged. The young prince was able and conscientious and he would not commit any major blunder. The main point of this paragraph in the orders was his own ranking. If he was still in command of Clyde could he count himself as commodore first class? The difference was in the uniform coat he was allowed to wear. A commodore first class was entitled to a rear-admiral's uniform while a commodore second class had to wear his captain's uniform. Tony guessed that the Foreign Office wanted him to attend the official functions in Cartagena masked as an admiral to increase his standing, but Their Lordships were probably leery of making that step so early in Tony's captaincy. This needed clarification in writing Tony decided. Another point demanding his attention were the attached sloops-of-war. Kite (18) was sailing under Commander Burroughs, a man who had held his lieutenant's commission for over twenty years before he made the giant leap to commander at age forty-five. Thetis (18) on the other hand was under the command of a bona fide hotshot officer. Commander Pickleberry had been a lieutenant for less than two years when he was promoted after a daring boat raid on the harbour of Honfleur. He was twenty-one years old, less than half as old as his junior in rank, Burroughs, whose appointment was more recent. This was a delicate situation, especially since Tony himself had risen rather quickly through the ranks. At thirty years of age he was a captain of well over six years seniority. The prince was only nineteen years old and already captain. That had to grate Burroughs. Yet there was something to learn when they met in Tony's cabin for dinner. Burroughs was not the bitter man Tony had expected. He did not look his forty-five years either but rather like a man in his mid-thirties, well-built and trim-looking, with an open smile. Tony revised his opinions. It was clear that Burroughs was elated rather than embittered, for he had – as he admitted laughingly – despaired of ever being promoted. On the other hand Pickleberry would bear some close watching. He seemed to burn with ambition and the looks he cast at Burroughs showed disdain. It was astonishing how the prince held his own in this round being the youngest of them all. He was cordial with Burroughs and ready to parry the barbs from Pickleberry who seemed to resent the newly appointed captain who would be his superior for the rest of their lives. The prince was now styled Sir August – he had been made a Knight of the Garter upon reaching captain's rank – which made the address less complicated than "His Serene Highness August Heinrich Prince of Seitz-Bunau". In a surprise move the young man had also freed himself of his pompous chamberlain who had been appointed to Master of the Royal College of Surgeons, with the prince pulling the strings as Tony was sure. The new ship's surgeon, a Mr. Whales, came highly recommended by Jonathan Wilkes. Tony had spoken the man briefly in the afternoon; he seemed young and energetic. After the sorcerer-like reputation Jonathan had enjoyed with the crew, Mr. Whales (RCS members officially styled themselves "Mr.", not "Dr.", as a snub to the Royal College of Physicians) had his work cut out for him. After the dinner, Tony prepared a list of items he and Harriet would need during the crossing. The cot was a wide one; the prince had shown that much foresight. There were some things they would need but most of those were with his private cabin fittings that had been removed from Asia's quarters. In a way it felt good to be in a frigate again. Not that his service in the Asia had been boring – far from that. Yet, to be his own master again, now even in command of a small flotilla, would be a welcome change. ------- Tony felt like masquerading in his brand-new rear-admiral's uniform. The clarification from the Admiralty had come only three days ago, and Elisabeth Wilson's seamstresses had worked around the clock to provide him with the necessary number of coats. The five coats had set him back by over £50, almost eating up his recent pay increase. As commodore first class Tony received the same pay as the captain of a first rate ship, £820 per annum, a huge increase over the £320 he had drawn while commanding the Medusa. He forced himself back into the present. Harriet was ready, too, wearing a sea green silk dress that complimented her colours. "Ready, darling?" he asked. Harriet smirked and nodded. It was their first night on board. They would sail with the morning tide and Harriet had other ideas of how to spend the evening than having dinner with the conde. Tony had already learned that the Spanish Grande had not even thought of bringing his own cabin stores expecting his host to provide him with three free meals. The first clash had already occurred when the conde sent billets to Tony and to Sir August, "commanding" them to dinner. Tony had sent for the conde's major domo and disabused the man of the notion that a civilian passenger could command anybody or anything on board Sir Anthony Carter's flagship. Dinner would be a strained affair. The conde was already sitting at table when Tony and Harriet emerged from their cabin, eyeing the set table with a frown. Tony had given instructions to serve a supper, not a grand dinner, and his new steward, Green, had followed the orders to the letter. "My dear Sir Anthony," the conde started. "Surely you are jesting when you serve royal personages with commoner's fare? I do hope that I can expect more of a person of your means?" Tony gave the man a smile. "But of course, your Excellency! We shall have a real dinner on Sundays. On weekdays, I fear, the fare is what you see. With the limited exercise we can get in a ship too rich a fare will cause our girth to expand until we look akin to a capon. I assure you that the ship's biscuit is of the finest quality and the smoked mutton leg came from the first butcher in Portsmouth." The conde's mouth opened and closed once without a sound before he had his reply ready, but then, the princess entered and he felt compelled to rise. The princess had been let in on the joke by Harriet. Seeing the laid table she clapped her hands. "How thoughtful of you, Sir Anthony! I cannot stand a rich dinner, in particular now that I have to go without my regular horseback riding. Don't you agree, Cousin?" The conde was indeed a third cousin of the princess, nothing unusual with the inbreeding that was common among the royalty of the day. "I could do with a more refined fare, to be sure," the conde answered stiffly. "Tut-tut, my dear Cousin! This is a man-of-war, not the St. James Palace," the princess answered serenely. The prince entered the cabin and she turned to him. "Sir August, how good of you to join us." The prince gave her a somewhat forced smile before he answered. "It is my privilege, Your Highness." He helped the princess into her chair while Tony performed the same service for Harriet. Only then the men sat. While the rest of the company ate with good appetite the conde showed his distaste for the pedestrian supper openly. More than once he complained and twice he commented negatively on the ale that was served. Tony could feel how Harriet wanted to respond forcefully but he calmed her down with a smile. Eventually, the supper ended when Green served brandy for the gentlemen and tea for the ladies. The brandy was of the finest French quality but even this was not good enough for the conde. "Dios mio! What I would give for a decent brandy from my own lands! Those French brandies are just not in the same class!" "Since your own brandies are no doubt helping the digestion of some French general tonight we must resign ourselves to what the French produced," Tony answered with amused detachment. The conde glowered at Tony in response and Tony felt that Harriet was softly shaking with suppressed giggles. "I can find no fault with this brandy, Sir Anthony," the prince stated. "Perhaps, the Conde's understandable love for his lands is clouding his tastes?" That was a mild rebuke, one that the prince could easily deal given his exalted position as grandnephew of King George. The conde turned purple. "I cannot see how a German princeling can allow himself to judge food or drink. The unrefined tastes of so-called German nobles are well known." "It is in poor taste to insult my great uncle who offered you a safe haven when Napoleon drove you from your home!" the prince answered hotly. "Our gracious King George is one of those German princelings by descend." The conde realised that he had overstepped bounds. "Hrhm, far be it from me to insult our steadfast ally, the King George. I was referring to those pitiful sovereigns whose reign extends over a few miserable villages at best." "Yet some of those princelings fight against the usurper while your own king has chosen to be a kept man of Napoleon," the prince retorted coldly. "He is a prisoner of the vile usurper!" the conde almost shrieked. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Tony interposed. "I suggest that you both control your tempers. Captain, please remember that the Conde is our guest. Your Excellency, please refrain from insulting my other guests. I believe it is time for us to retire. I apologise to the Princess for the undignified cock fight she had to witness." The prince blushed and bowed to the princess. "I apologise, Your Highness," he said. "My dear Sir August," the princess smiled, "I cannot find fault with your behaviour." The conde's eyes bugged at this sting from his promised, but she smiled sweetly. "Lady Carter, may I ask the pleasure of your company for a few moments?" "Certainly," Harriet responded, rising from her chair. Tony and the prince stood immediately, but the conde mulled the issue for a moment before he, too, rose. Perhaps it was the look Tony had cast at him. He had felt annoyance at the rudeness of this so-called nobleman and without him being aware of it he had fixated the Spaniard with a stare that had obviously conveyed a message. Once Harriet and the princess had left, there was a strained silence. Tony broke it. "Your Excellency, Captain, I hope that I will not have to witness another one of such undignified outbursts. His Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs has assured me that we are allies in the fight against the Corsican usurper. I must ask both of you not to forget this." Again, the conde seemed poised to flare up but again something was conveyed in Tony's stare that made him deflate. The prince must have noticed it too, for Tony could see how the edges of his mouth were being tugged at by a suppressed smile. "I understand, Sir Anthony," the prince said nicely. The conde nodded curtly. "Of course," he said gratingly. "Then we have an understanding, gentlemen," Tony closed amicably. "I wish both of you a good night. Anchor up at sunrise, Captain?" "Indeed, Sir Anthony. The ebb tide will be running from two bells onward." "Splendid. Let us hope that we shall have a pleasant crossing." With that, both men were dismissed and left the stateroom. Only a moment later Harriet emerged from the princess's sleeping cabin. She was shaking her head. "The poor girl," she whispered to Tony. "To have this uncouth lout as her intended is almost akin to ... Oh, never mind." "You mean Palmer, don't you?" Tony asked lightly. The times when he was flustered by the mentioning of Harriet's first and unlamented husband were long gone. Harriet nodded. "The conde reminds me of him in many ways." "I commiserate with her but what is there to do? She will be under her guardian's care and if I understood the story correctly the betrothal is all but settled." Harriet pulled him into their own private cabin. She whispered now. "Tony, she is planning something rather desperate." She saw his look of alarm. "No, not that desperate. She plans to visit the chaplain to take lessons." Tony realised that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it with an effort. "She plans to swear off the Catholic faith?" "She's thinking – and she may be right – that by swearing off her faith and accepting baptism by the chaplain she can demand to be returned to England. In New Spain she'd be treated as heretic." Tony sat down on the edge of the cot with his thoughts whirling. That would truly create a diplomatic mess. A Spanish princess, a niece of His Most Catholic Majesty, turning against Catholicism and accepting the Anglican rites might just trigger a break-up of the feeble alliance between Spain and Britain. Yet could he, should he thwart this plot? The legal position was clear: any person could convert to the Anglican church and thus enjoy protection of the Crown. However, how such an event might play out on his mission was another matter and the Foreign Office would not look kindly on the officer who allowed it to happen. "It'll be quite the mess?" Harriet asked. Tony took a deep breath and shook his head. "Well, let us say that I have a chance to wear an admiral's uniform on this journey. It might just be my last chance." "That bad?" "It will completely derail this mission, yes. Legally, I am safe." He smiled weakly. "It may just be the exit into civilian life that I wanted." "Oh darling, don't say that! Should I talk Isabella out of it?" Tony took another deep breath. Could he really force a young, vibrant and bright girl into a union with a man as despicable as the conde? He could defer the sailing, of course, and hand over the entire affair to the Foreign Office. That would place the responsibility with somebody else but it might also put the young girl under the pressure of the expatriate community. He rather liked the girl and he knew that Harriet had taken her under her wings. He managed a fatalistic shrug. "No, leave her be. She is a good girl and he is an ogre. I'll have a few months to plot how to pull my neck out of the noose. Let the girl follow her heart." Harriet stepped close and pulled him up into a passionate embrace. "Anthony Carter, you are the best and stoutest man I could ever find. Whatever may come out of this, I love you and I shall always stand by you. Perhaps ... now that is an idea!" "What is?" Tony asked, bewildered by the sudden mirth in Harriet's voice. Harriet gave him a smug smile. "Don not worry. I may not be as skilled in tearoom politics as my mother is, but I have eyes to see and intuition. Let your wife save your career, my darling." "Will you tell me what this is about, Harriet?" "I don't think so, my dear. You are an honourable man after all, and you might ruin my schemes with your scruples." ------- Chapter 26: Commoner for a Week After the bitter cold of the last months Tony felt true elation as the Clyde flew over the moderate rollers of the South Atlantic. Three weeks out of Portsmouth they had caught the northeasterly trade winds and now Clyde was racing over the waves under full sail. There was no feeling remotely as satisfying as sailing a fast frigate. With a grin, Tony corrected himself. Just an hour ago he had unwrapped himself from Harriet's embrace. Compared with the comfort she gave him, even sailing before the trades was paling. There was the prince. He was controlling the chalk board near the wheel. Tony had seen it already. During the night, Clyde had logged an average of nine knots, even without her royals. Now she ran closer to ten knots. The prince approached. "Good morning, Sir." "Good morning, Captain," Tony replied in a friendly tone. The young man had really performed his duties admirably so far. "This promises to be a very fast crossing." "Indeed, Sir. By God, she flies, doesn't she?" "Clyde is the best ship I ever sailed," Tony agreed. "With her new bottom there is not a ship that can match her both for speed and for firepower." "The sloops are keeping up well though, Sir." Tony smiled. "Yes, but they had to run out the stuns'ls to keep up." It was true: both sloops had their stunsails rigged at the ends of their yardarms, adding to the canvas they carried, and they needed it just to keep up with Clyde. "Can we expect the conde at table today, Sir? The swell has gone down a little." There was a certain malicious tone in the prince's voice. Ever since sailing from Portsmouth the issue of supper had been moot for His Excellency had been incapacitated by seasickness. Even yesterday when Clyde had been dancing over the low rollers under a sunny sky the conde had not shown outside his private cabin. As far as Tony knew the man sustained himself on teas and broth prepared for him under Mr. Whales' instructions. "I should be surprised if he showed, in particular if he showed for service." It was Sunday, and the chaplain would hold the Mass on deck after the watch had changed. "The chaplain has informed me that there will be a baptism today, Sir," the prince informed his commodore. Tony swallowed hard. That could only mean one thing: the princess was following through with her scheme to avoid the marriage with the conde. Tony forced himself not to show any surprise but he could detect an uneasiness about the prince. Did he know about the girl's plans? "Any idea who will be the baptised, Captain?" "O-only rumours, Sir," the prince answered biting his lower lip and blushing. "The Princess Isabella, then," Tony stated exhaling deeply. "She is going through with her scheme. I should have known. This will not make our mission any easier." "Indeed not, Sir. If I may say so, Sir, I can understand her motives." "Don't we all? Yet, what will become of her? My orders are to convey her to her guardian, yet once she accepts the rites of the Church of England she will be treated as a heretic by the Spaniards." "Sir, aren't you her temporary guardian during the crossing?" The thought had never occurred to Tony but legally the prince had a point. "One could argue that I am, Captain. What are you implying?" "I, umh, Sir, her uncle's guardianship has not commenced yet, has it?" "Not legally, no. Still, Captain, what are you aiming at." "Sir, once she has accepted the Sacrament of Baptism, it could be argued that she is a subject of the King. She is of royal birth, too. I ... I have not found a fitting bride yet and I find the Princess Isabella very appealing, Sir." "You want to marry her? Captain, what will the Court say to this?" "I am of age, Sir, and a sovereign ruler of my lands." "In effect, Captain, you want me to use my temporary authority over the Princess to grant her hand to you in marriage?" The prince exhaled and nodded. "Yes, Sir. Ever since I saw her I have been thinking of her with deep fondness. The thought that she would be married to that ... that despicable oaf was unbearable. When the Lady Carter told me how much the Princess loathes the idea herself I realised what I have to do." Tony looked at the lovesick young man. Ruling prince or not, he was just as hopelessly smitten with a pretty girl as any other junior officer. He thought of the young princess, too. Certainly, the young prince was a preferable option for her but did she return his feelings? Was he perhaps just a lesser evil for her? "Have you spoken her already, Captain? Does she return the feelings you have for her?" The prince looked down. "I have not had the chance to speak her yet, Sir, but Her Ladyship has been kind enough to convey my offer. According to Lady Carter the Princess is willing to to listen to me." "Is she now? Captain, I mean no offence to you, but how much is her willingness influenced by her precarious situation?" The young man's eyes widened a little but he straightened his back and spoke with determination. "You are right, Sir, in that it she might feel compelled to hear my suit. I shall make it clear to her that she is not under any obligation." "The Spanish will be up in arms," Tony temporised, but then he understood. The girl would not elope with some dandy: she would be married to a ruling sovereign prince, one who was Nº 17 in the line of succession to the British Crown. Tony could always claim that he only put the interest of the Crown before that of a foreigner. He exhaled. If this was the end to his professional career, at least the affair would end it with a fanfare that would be heard all over Europe. He smiled grimly. "Won't you have to consult some crown council of your homeland before you can choose a wife, Captain?" The young prince shrugged. "Those who were once charged with preserving my claims are now willing tools of the Corsican. They have forfeited their privileges." He smiled smugly now. "Not even my chamberlain can be reached for his opinion." Another puzzle piece that fell into place. Eisenbeiss must have been opposed to the prince's plans, but that meant that the prince must have already had designs on the girl before they even sailed. "This is not just Lady Carter's doing I take it?" "No, Sir, not entirely. I am deeply indebted to her for letting me know of the Princess's mind, but I had planned to woo her in any case." "Hence the Baron's new role as President of the RCS," Tony stated. Another thought came to him. "The conde might issue a challenge over this." The prince shrugged with stolid indifference. "He might, Sir. It will not change the course of things." Tony shook his head. "What date are you eying for the wedding?" "Sunday next, Sir." "And when will she break the news to the Conde?" "There is no need for that, Sir. They are not engaged after all." Again, Tony shook his head. The dice was cast and there was nothing he could do. He shrugged stoically. "I suppose we best have our breakfast then." The princess had excused herself for the breakfast claiming a lack of appetite and Harriet looked decidedly apprehensive. This all the more as the Conde made a brief appearance accepting a cup of tea and even endeavouring to nibble on a ship's biscuit covered with a spoonful of strawberry jam. There was a strained atmosphere all through the breakfast even after the Conde excused himself again. Afterwards, Tony and Harriet briefly retired to their cabin to dress properly for the service. It was then that Harriet put her hand on Tony's arm. "Tony, just so you are warned: Isabella will go through with her plan today. She made the arrangements with the chaplain yesterday evening. I only heard of it an hour ago. Please, don't be mad at me: I have agreed to be her godmother." Tony grinned and patted her hand. "I already learned of a planned baptism and I surmised it would be the girl. Let's hope that the conde won't make scene." On deck, the crew was assembled for Sunday service. As usual the men stole surreptitious glances at Harriet, one of only two females they had seen in weeks. They stared openly when the Princess Isabella joined the officers on the quarterdeck wearing a pure white dress that caught the brilliant sunlight. Her black hair was uncovered and hung down in two tightly woven braids. She held a small wreath of dried flowers in her hands. Mr. Porthouse, the chaplain, started the service with the quiet efficiency that was his hallmark. He was a stout man and not easily perturbed, and even now, facing a task that may cause him all sorts of trouble, he showed his usual equanimity. The crew sang one of the hymns after which Porthouse started his sermon. That finished he cleared his throat and looked about showing the first sign of the apprehension he must feel. "We shall now have a baptism," he announced. "Will you step forward, M'lady?" A murmur went through the ranks when the Princess Isabella in her white dress stepped forward. "My Child, are you ready to accept the Holy Sacrament of Baptism?" "I am, Father," the girl spoke. "Who will act as god-parents?" the chaplain asked next and Harriet let go of Tony's arm to stand at her young friend's side. Another murmur rose when Captain Sir August, Prince of Seitz-Bunau, joined them. This was a baptism rite that Tony did not know as it was not a child's baptism. The chaplain knew his text though and the princess answered all his questions firmly and in the affirmative. Soon enough he doused her with a full basin of seawater to close the ceremony. "May God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit guide you and protect you, and may God's blessing be upon you and your ways!" he blessed her in closing. Just like that the princess was a heretic in the eyes of every Catholic, and a member of the Church of England for any Protestant. She would forever be unable to visit her homeland or any Spanish colony lest she faced the Spanish Inquisition. It was also the critical step in her ploy to avoid her preordained fate. Wet and bedraggled she rejoined the officers on the quarterdeck and waited for the closing of the service which was effected by another hymn, followed by the Our Father into which she joined with a clear voice. When the service ended and the men left the deck by divisions, she turned to Tony. "I apologise deeply for all the difficulties I have created for you and will yet create. I will be forever in your debt." Tony could not help a smile as he looked at the diminutive girl in front of him who spoke with such great dignity despite her ruined appearance. "I am doing no more than what honour dictates, Your Highness," he answered. "May I ask you to dispense with the title "Highness", Sir Anthony? As of this day I have no claim on this honorific anymore." "How shall we address you then for the time being?" Tony asked giving the prince a meaningful look. "I believe Señorita Isabella to be adequate, Sir Anthony. Or perhaps, given my new standing, perhaps Miss Isabella should be even more fitting." Tony nodded to that. "As you wish, Miss Isabella. We shall have an interesting table conversation no doubt." As he spoke, the former princess nodded, her beautiful face in an expression of grim determination. "Again, my regrets, Sir Anthony." Tony had to grin. "If the weather remains as it is there will not be many dinners affected by your actions." ------- As bad luck would have it though, the Conde de Alcala was slowly growing sea legs or at least getting over the full misery of seasickness, for he showed for the noon meal. For once he could see no reason to complain for the table was indeed richly laid. Tony had given orders to sacrifice two of his remaining chickens. A rich chicken soup was their appetiser and the cook had produced chicken pastries for the main dish. Add to that a delicious Madeira white wine, and it was a dinner fit for a king. With his appetite for food returned the Conde also seemed to have recovered his other desires, for he kept looking at the former princess all through the main dish with a possessive stare that made the others uncomfortable. "I look forward to visiting you in your new home, my dear Isabella." Miss Isabella, as we should now call her, steeled herself. "I am afraid that I have to disappoint you, my dear cousin. I will not be able to entertain you." "Oh, have no fear! You guardian will not object to my visits," the Conde laughed smugly. "I shall be the new Gobernador, after all." "Yet, my future husband may object and you will find the travel too tedious, I fear," Isabella answered stolidly. "My dear, I thought it was clear that I shall ask your guardian for his blessing to woo you once we arrive." "Cousin, you cannot woo me and I shall not go ashore in Cartagena. I can never again set foot on Spanish soil. I have taken instructions those last weeks while you felt unwell and this morning I accepted the Sacrament of Baptism from the Holy Church of England." The creaking of Clyde's timbers were the only sound for almost a minute while the conde tried to digest this outrageous news. With understanding came an angry red colouring to his heavy jowls. "What shame have you brought upon the Royal House?" he demanded heatedly. Miss Isabella returned the angry stare. "I followed my conscience and I am aware of the consequences. I shall return to England in this ship to claim the protection of the British Crown." "I'll have you brought ashore and handed over to the priests! They will make you repent. They will..." "Your Excellency, nobody will be brought ashore from this ship against his or her will," Tony interjected coolly. "By becoming a member of the Holy Church of England whose titular head, our Gracious King George, is my supreme commander, Miss Isabella can claim my protection." "You are in collusion with her?" the conde snarled angrily. "You and your wife? I knew she was no fitting company for a royal princess! Once you are under the guns of Cartagena we shall see whether you will dare to resist my orders!" Alarmed, the majordomo put a restraining hand on his master's arm but Tony began to enjoy the situation. He had found the man revolting right from the start and to put him in place was deeply satisfying even it meant the end of his professional aspirations. "This is most regrettable, Your Excellency, as it leaves me with no choice but to put you ashore with your train and possessions at some place distant from Cartagena, say near Soledad? That should leave you with a foot march of a little more than fifty leagues, easily done five or six days, even giving the uncomfortable climate." The conde's mouth opened and closed as he contemplated his situation and his complete dependency on Tony to reach his destination. "Don Antonio," the majordomo interceded. "My master was speaking in haste, I am sure. You will appreciate his agitation over the news he had to receive. I am sure he did not mean to threaten you with warlike actions." The conde shook his arm free from the majordomo's touch. He focussed on the young girl. "Isabella, think of what you are throwing away! Reconsider, I implore you! Nothing of this foolishness need ever be known. Come to your senses and confess at the earliest convenience, and you can still lead a life as becomes your high station." "I thank you for your concern, Cousin, but I believe that my prospects are not as bleak as you think them," Miss Isabella countered. "What prospects, Isabella? What can compare to being the wife of a Grande of the First Rank, the wife of a gobernador real?" Tony anticipated what would happen now. The prince spoke up. "I believe that being the future wife of a prince and sovereign ruler will more than compensate for the opportunities she gave up," he said defiantly. The conde turned ghostly white before the blood rushed back into his face. The majordomo tried to calm his master but the conde was beyond reason. "You! You dared to ... How dare you even think of a Princess from the House of Borbón! Sovereign ruler? Of what? A handful of dismal villages filled with heretics! The thought of a heretic wooing a niece of His Most Catholic Majesty is insult to the Spanish Crown and to Spain!" "Gentlemen, must I remind you to maintain your countenance?" Tony interjected. The conde glowered at Tony, trying to put his outrage into words, and Tony knew that the conde's next words would be insulting to him or Harriet. What that meant was equally clear. Yet, there was an interruption. "Your Excellency, I find your words insulting. I shall have to ask for satisfaction," the prince spoke up with a trembling voice full of agitation. With a new focus for his murderous fury, the conde jumped up. His jowls trembled when he answered. "Very well! We shall settle this at once! Don Pietro, arrange for everything. I choose pistols." Tony took a deep breath. Perhaps this could be avoided and it was his duty to try that. "Gentlemen, I cannot allow you to continue in this sordid affair. May I remind you that duelling is prohibited in His Majesty's ships?" The prince flared up. "Sir Anthony, he ins..." "Captain, I forbid any actions that run contrary to the Articles of War. That goes for you and for all passengers. Your Excellency, I find your conduct deplorable, to say the least. I shall not fail to notify my superiors of your woeful lack of restraint and tact." "You... !" the conde spluttered. "Your Excellency, I must warn you. I shall not tolerate any further outbursts. Must I remind you of your status as passenger? I suggest that we all return to our cabins, except for Sir August who will tend to his duties on deck. For the remainder of the journey we shall devise an arrangement that will keep the offended parties separated. Don Pietro, if you will be so kind as to stay behind so we can work out a set of rules?" That was a crucial point. The prince and the conde could not see each other socially until the matter was resolved, either by apology and acceptance, or through an exchange of bullets. The meals would be strained. Once the main cabin had emptied, Tony and the majordomo worked on a schedule that would keep the combatants separated during dinners. Furthermore, the two men agreed that the conde and the former princess should also be kept away from each other to avoid unnecessary confrontations. That meant in turn that Tony and Harriet would not be able to eat together since he alone was left to keep the conde company during meals. Harriet had to chaperone Miss Isabella. All this was extremely annoying. Indeed, the following days were uncomfortable for everybody, not least the stewards who had to serve each meal twice. By the end of the following week Tony was ready to strangle the conde. Their meals were strained affairs with the Spaniard barely maintaining a polite facade. His Excellency also took to drinking, and his earlier disdain for French brandy was forgotten. Tony saw this with mixed emotions. The conde was rapidly depleting Tony's brandy stores, yet he posed less of a problem when drunk senseless as he was each evening. After a few days, Tony managed to introduce his dinner guest to Fleet rum, and after a few glasses His Excellency discovered a new favourite. The inevitable headache incurred from over-imbibition of rum also made him a late riser in the next days, further alleviating Tony of the need to keep him company. After dinner on following Saturday Tony seduced his guest into even heavier drinking, and the conde obligingly slept all through Sunday morning and through the wedding ceremony on the quarterdeck when Captain His Serene Highness Sir August of Seitz-Bunau, KG, married Miss Isabella Leon as she styled herself. With a wry smile Tony realised that he now had to address "Miss Isabella" as "Her Highness" again, after her one-week interval as commoner. The conde was still sleeping off his drunk, and thus Tony was able to attend the modest celebrations. It was his first chance to spend significant time with Harriet in over a week, too, and it served to restore his balance. Later in the afternoon the conde made a short appearance on deck, looking daggers at the officers and at Sir August in particular. That evening the conde drank even more before the stewards had to carry him to his cabin. In the following week the bloodshot eyes of the conde were a common sight for Tony. The man did not talk anymore at all; he just sat at table and downed glass after glass of rum. It was obvious that the man was losing the last remnants of his dignity along with his mind. His servants and his majordomo tried their best to keep him sober for at least a few hours each day, but their efforts met with his stubborn determination to drink himself to death. Normally, Tony would have taken the spirits away from the man but he was in the hope that the future governor of Cartagena would drink himself into a state that would prevent the looming duel with Sir August. Not that the conde would stand a chance but it would be a diplomatic catastrophe if King George's nephew killed a Spanish governor. This was the situation when the lookout finally shouted his "Land ho!" from the masthead, right after sunrise. It had been a very fast crossing, a small blessing in an uncomfortable situation. As they approached Cartagena Tony was asking himself what complication was coming next. He was acutely aware again of his past with Doña Maria and he was uncertain what reception he would get. They were met outside the harbour by a Guarda Costa cutter. The officer in command accepted Tony's assurance that their ships were free of any fevers and he also accepted the letter to the gobernador. Fortunately, the man remembered Tony as the one Ingles who was in highest favour with Don Alonso, and he pointed out a fitting anchorage for the ships. Not even the rumbling of the anchor cable sufficed to wake the conde from his hung over stupor, a fact that Tony hoped to exploit. As quickly as possible he had his gig lowered and was heading for the quay. John Little and Garcia the translator were with him. He was met by the very same Capitan Ortega who had assisted him years ago. The man looked him over briefly and nodded. The rear-admiral's dress uniform did not fail to make an impression. "Pleez, Don Antonio, heez Excellency eez anxious to receive you!" "It will be my pleasure," Tony answered politely. "I trust his Excellency is in good health and spirits?" "Oh, he eez! Very healthy, very happy!" The latter might just change in the next hour, Tony thought wryly. ------- Chapter 27: An Elegant Solution Don Alonso appeared unchanged to Tony's eyes. He was still erect and slim and his piercing black eyes had lost nothing of their alertness. Yet, when he greeted Tony there was a cordiality about him that was new. "My dear friend, you have returned!" he exclaimed, reaching for Tony's hand and shaking it vigorously. "The saviour of my happiness, and now even our ally! Welcome, Don Anonio! I see you have advanced in your service, Almiral." Tony found it the wrong time to clarify the intricacies of rank in the Royal Navy. "I thank you for the friendly welcome, Don Alonso," he replied. "I feel very honoured to be called a friend by your Excellency." "Yet, you deserve this title more than any other man I know. I trust that you are in good health and spirits? Your name came up in official mail and in newspapers, and even though I had to count you as Spain's enemy then, your bravery and chivalrous conduct have made me proud. Let us hope for more reasons to come, now that you are our ally against the treacherous Corsican!" "This is indeed my fervent wish, your Excellency. My mission is a delicate one, and the capriciousness of fate has made it even more delicate. My ship has as passenger, His Excellency the Conde de Alcalosa, and my orders are to convey him to Cartagena for him to be your successor." The happy smile on Don Alonso's face was gone in an instant. "By whose authority, may I ask, was he appointed?" "There is a sizeable community of exiled Spanish nobles and courtiers in London, and His Excellency the Spanish Envoy represents your King Fernando. I suppose he selected the Conde." "Did he now!" Don Alonso expostulated. With an effort he calmed himself. "I was appointed Governor by His Majesty the King, and only His Majesty or the Viceroy in Panama has the authority to relieve me. Certainly not an envoy who ranks below me." "My apologies then, your Excellency!" Tony hastened to answer. "This is not what His Majesty's government was given to understand by his Excellency the Envoy. Far be it from His Majesty's government to interfere into the lawful governance of His Most Catholic Majesty's dominions." "I understand and I ask you to forgive my outburst. I shall send to the Viceroy in this matter and await his decision. In the meantime, the Conde will be my honoured guest. We do not have the pleasure of noble visitors often enough, and my wife will be delighted." Tony's facial expression must have given him away, for the governor smirked at him. "I take it the crossing was less than pleasurable?" "There were events that compounded our mission," Tony admitted. "I also have as a passenger the former Princess Isabel of Léon. I believe she is related to you?" "Young Isabel? My wife will be delighted! I am sure there will be many suitors for her hand. But why 'the former princess', pray?" "She ... Hrhm! As of a week ago, she is now styling herself Her Serene Highness the Princess-Consort of Seith-Bunau." The governor's eyebrows shot up and Tony explained in as few words as possible the events since they sailed from Portsmouth. The governor sighed. "Her mother was well known for her lack of discretion and for her strong will. Nevertheless, if she is the consort of a sovereign prince she will be welcomed with all due honours. You said the conde took this development hard?" "You will find him frequently indisposed, your Excellency," Tony replied diplomatically. "I see. This is interesting to hear, and it will likely influence the Viceroy in his decision," Don Alonso smirked. "And your wife is with you? Of course, you will be my guests during your stay, and I shall welcome His Serene Highness, too. After all, we have now kinship ties with him. Do you believe that you may be able to rouse the conde sufficiently to convey him into my hospitality?" "You will find his majordomo, Don Pietro, a most able and reasonable man to deal with," Tony answered. "I count on his help." ------- Indeed, Don Pietro had been able to spruce the conde sufficiently up for the boat ride to the quay. Don Alonso had sent his own barge, and during the short crossing the conde stared at the two couples with bloodshot eyes. Harriet was wearing a fine travel costume made of green silk which complimented her glorious strawberry blonde hair and her trim figure. Tony realised that she had dressed to make an impression. The governor awaited them in his palace with Doña Maria at his side. It had been over five years, but Tony still felt a tingle when he espied her. At his side he heard the sharp intake of breath from Harriet. "Oh, dear God!" she whispered under her breath. Tony pressed her hand reassuringly. "I love only you!" he whispered to her, and he felt Harriet take a sobbing breath before she pressed his arm in return. Maria was still a breathtakingly beautiful woman, Tony realised, and it was clear why Harriet felt apprehension seeing her perceived rival. They advanced further, and Tony affected the introductions. This was complicated. Socially speaking, he was the low man in the room. Yet he was the only person known to their host. Etiquette dictated he introduced Seitz-Bunau and the Princess Isabel next. This left the conde as the last person to be greeted by Don Alonso, and Tony could tell that he was furious. His short, barked address to Don Alonso was made in Spanish of course, but Tony saw the anger in their host's eyes when he answered in what was easily recognisable as a cold rebuke. Tony could hear the word El Virrey, the viceroy, in the answer and he saw how the conde flushed with anger before he answered haughtily in turn. The conde's Italian majordomo was standing behind him and Tony distinctly heard him mutter "Asino!" under his breath. Tony could sympathise with Don Pietro who'd had his hands full with his master during the crossing. Don Alonso was outwardly unperturbed and he proceeded to welcome the ladies. At the same time, Tony and the prince bowed before Donã Maria who offered them her hand to kiss. When she withdrew her hand again, she gave Tony's chin a minute caress, so briefly that only he noticed it. "I welcome you back, Don Antonio," she said in her lilting English. "I cannot wait to hear of your adventures, but let me welcome your wife and my cousin first." The hug between Doña Maria and her cousin was cordial but when she greeted Harriet, Tony could perceive how the two women were squaring up against each other. He was distracted by Don Alonso for a moment, and then the women were standing apart again. He felt a trickle of sweat running down his spine. The situation exacerbated when Don Alonso excused himself to show the Conde de Alcala to his guest suite, leaving Doña Maria to show the other visitors to a tea parlour. "My husband and I are delighted to see you as our guest, Don Antonio. What you did for me cannot be valued enough." "I can imagine that," Harriet answered with a forced smile. "To be separated from his Excellency for years must have been a terrible experience." "You are as perceptive as you are beautiful, Doña Enrica," Maria answered. Tony could see Harriet stiffen. "I must say that I have never seen hair as beautiful as yours." The second sentence seemed to mollify Harriet. "The price to pay for it are freckles," she answered. "Which are deemed enticing by many," the Princess Isabel threw in, obviously anxious to lighten the mood. "Say, Cousin, how have you fared since your deliverance?" "Wonderful! Antonio is such a delight! Do you have children, Doña Enrica?" "A son and a daughter. They are with my mother. We also have an adopted daughter." "That is wonderful!" Doña Maria smiled. "We named our son Antonio Enrique in recognition of your husband's role in bringing us back together." "That is a great honour for me, Doña Maria," Tony said to fill the ensuing silence. He now remembered Maria's fervent wish for a child and the blood shot to his face when he became aware of the possibilities. Was the little boy sired in their one night together? Doña Maria changed the subject now. "The arrival of the Conde de Alcala has caused quite an upheaval. My husband has to send a messenger to the Virrey. This matter will cause unrest among the governors. You must tell me about him, Cousin Isabel, but not now. Will you and His Serene Highness accept our hospitality?" The prince looked at Tony for guidance and Tony nodded. He and Harriet would return to the Clyde, if only to avoid further awkward moments between Harriet and Maria. "It will be our pleasure," the prince announced. "I would not deprive my wife of the chance to converse with her cousin." "Fortunately, the new Bishop is a rather openminded man," Maria remarked, tapping her teeth before she looked at Tony. "The Inquisitor left for Spain two years ago and has not been replaced since then. My cousin has nothing to fear." "Not unless the Conde de Alcala ascends to the governorship," the prince said gravely. "You should not worry about that too much," Maria said lightly, confirming Tony's suspicion that the governor would not yield his post to his intended successor. Just then the governor joined them, giving the prince a long, thoughtful look. "My guest informed me of a serious issue between himself and your Serene Highness. Is your Serene Highness of a mind to pursue the affair?" "I issued a challenge, your Excellency, and unless the Conde will issue a formal apology for his words I see but one way to settle the affair," Seitz-Bunau said stiffly. "It would be tragic if the Conde de Alcala were to lose his life so soon after his arrival, before we could even begin to settle the dispute over his planned succession," Don Alonso remarked. "Then again, I cannot stand between two noble gentlemen if they insist on settling their dispute. Suffice to say that I wish only the best for the husband of my wife's cousin." Tony understood as did everybody else in the room. If Seitz-Bunau shot the conde in a duel then the question of succession was moot and the peace in the colony preserved. Don Alonso would continue in his current post and he would have time to shore up the support of the other governors and of the viceroy. Seitz-Bunau nodded grimly and looked at Tony. "Sir Anthony, I am afraid that I feel compelled to renew my challenge against the Conde de Alcala. His insults against myself and my lands were too severe to be left standing." "Of course, Sir August, if your honour dictates this course then I shall not stand in your way," Tony replied. "Do you wish for me to act as your friend?" "That would be exceedingly kind of you, Sir Anthony." Don Alonso clucked his teeth. "A deplorable development to be sure, but perhaps inevitable," he commented. "However, let us defer any unpleasantness for a day or two, shall we? ------- Harriet looked at Tony accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. They were back on board the Clyde and in their cabin. "Tell you what?" Tony asked with a sigh. This had been brewing all day. "I wasn't prepared for her to be so ... beautiful." "Just as she was unprepared to meet my beautiful wife," he answered persuasively. "Anita is beautiful. Why is it a problem whether or not Doña Maria is, too?" Harriet shook her head. "Anita never had that influence on you. She did not change you. This woman did, and she knows it. I know it, and she knows that I know. Ugh! I wanted to strangle her!" Tony closed his eyes for a moment. "Harriet, it is true that she changed my views. I learned from her and she learned from me. That is the reason why we are both happier now. At least I believe she is happy with her husband. I know that I am happy with you. She helped me to heal after I lost you. Without meeting her I would not have known how to treat you. Without her I may not have been the man you wanted to have back." It was Harriet's turn to close her eyes now. When she looked at Tony again he saw fear in her eyes but also determination. "I have a question and I need your honest answer. If I had not been married to R ... to Rupert Palmer, if we had been engaged, would you have ... dallied with her? What if she had not been married? Would you have chosen her over me?" "No to the first, and no to the second. We have been over this so often, Harriet. Why, you were never concerned about Anita, nor about any other women I had dealings with. What is it about Maria that makes you so ... afraid?" Harriet chewed on her lower lip for a few moments, mulling her answer. She was still looking down when she answered. "It's because I can see how a man must fall in love with her in the blink of an eye. Her eyes, her even features, her hair, her proud body, everything about her is beautiful beyond measure. How can any woman compare to her?" Tony stepped close to Harriet and held her shoulders. "Harriet, love, look up at me!" Hesitantly, she did. "I was captivated with you the moment I first laid eyes on you. You were the reason I changed my life just so I would be acceptable for you. With Maria I felt tenderness and a kindred soul. With you I feel unbridled passion. I never felt jealous around Don Alonso, but I could have killed Palmer without a second of remorse, just thinking that he had the right to hold you in his arms. With Maria I might have been content, but with you I am fulfilled. Can't you feel compassion with her? First, she was in a loveless marriage, and then she was kept a captive and subject to the lewd advances of her gaoler. Can't you relate to her needs? You were in the same position, weren't you?" Harriet's green eyes bored into Tony's with an intensity he had rarely seen, but then they turned smoky and a weak smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Did you visit Cork during your Irish posting by any chance?" "No. Why are you asking?" "There is the saying that men who kiss a particular stone at Blarney Castle, near Cork, are gifted with sweet talk for the rest of their lives." Now, Harriet was smiling openly. "How come you know so well what to say to me to make me feel at ease?" "Honestly?" "Yes, honestly." "I learned from Maria how to sense why a woman may be upset. At least a little. It helped me when we got back together, and since then I have been practising that art with you. I try to understand what ails you, that's all." Harriet shook her head, but the smile was still in her eyes. "Maria again. Tony, I will try to be nicer to her. You are right. Her situation was none of her choosing, and neither was yours. Can you forgive your silly, jealous wife?" "Easily, since I love her with all my heart." "Do we have time before the dinner?" "Time?" "Time for me to express my regret?" "When did I ever refuse you, Harriet? There's more to it than regret, isn't there?" Harriet stomped her feet in mock anger. "That accursed woman! She taught you to look through me and my pretences." She laughed ruefully. "Yes, you are right. I also need to confirm that you are mine before I can face her again." "Far be it from me to refuse your dire need of reassurance. Oh, the demands!" Tony laughed. Harriet stepped close and stood on her toes, her lips close to his left ear. "Fuck me now! Show me that I am yours!" Her whispered words made him rip open his coat and push down his pants while Harriet gathered up her skirts and knelt on the cot, presenting her exposed sex. She turned to him. "I need youuuooooof!" Her eyes assumed a faraway look as he entered her in one thrust. "So deep!" It took him only a few minutes to reach his peak, but Harriet was far ahead. Her channel tightened around him almost immediately and she seemed to float for the entire time of their coupling. When he spewed his load into her depths, she let out a single, low groan and then collapsed face first onto the cot pulling him with her. Later, when they dressed for the dinner in the governor's palace, Harriet smiled mischievously. "Do you think she might notice that freshly swived look on my face?" Tony nodded and smirked. "Yes, I think so. Just like everybody will." ------- The Conde de Alcala had excused himself from the dinner. According to Don Pietro he was suffering from indigestion and exhaustion, but Tony also suspected indignation over the cold reception by Don Alonso. Now, if the conde would stay indisposed for a week then Tony saw a chance to forestall the duel. He would simply give orders to sail, and no blame would attach to the young prince. Yet, they had to stay for at least a week, maybe more if the governor insisted that they waited for the viceroy's decision. Tony found himself seated with a stone faced lady, a Doña Carmen de So-and-so; he never found out her full name. She spoke no English and made no effort whatsoever to understand Tony's efforts at a conversation in Spanish. Yet, she was the widow of the esteemed General So-and-so, and thus it was supposedly an honour for Tony to lead her to the table. Harriet, in turn, had a dignified looking Almiral de Flotilla as table partner, and she apparently suffered from the opposite problem: namely her table partner talked to her incessantly in a heavily accented yet fluent English. Apparently, El Almiral had experienced English hospitality for two years after he and his frigate had been captured during the Battle of St. Vincent. His captor, Captain Sir Errol Brewster, had offered his own home in the Kent country side for his captured adversary, and the Spanish captain had enjoyed the hospitality and the exposure to English women immensely. A few times Harriet sent looks of comical desperation to Tony who shrugged back. At least Harriet was not bored to death by her partner. After the dinner the visitors were led into an adjacent ball room where music was played. His Excellency and Doña Maria led the dance. It was a simple enough march-and-step to the tune of three violas. To his surprise Tony found his table partner to be a much better dancer than conversationalist. She had to be at least ten years older than him, but one would not have guessed that from her graceful movements. For the next dance, His Excellency picked his wife's cousin for a more uptempo piece, an Esmeralda, and the diminutive princess was indeed a sight to behold. Tony danced the Esmeralda with a heavyset young woman or rather girl who nevertheless danced with lively temperament belying her physical appearance. Inevitably, he had to dance with Doña Maria next, and it was a French Waltz, meaning there was physical contact. Tony felt self-conscious and he did not dare to look at Harriet who would be staring at them for sure. Maria was all friendly distance, but towards the end she gave him a brief, friendly smile. "Your wife knows?" she asked under her breath, and Tony nodded. "I could tell. Is she the one whom you had lost?" "Yes. We were given a second chance." "How fortunate for you. You must be so happy. My life has also improved so much. Antonio is a joy, and my husband treats me with all the love and respect I can ask for." The music was winding down, but Tony needed an answer to an urgent question. "Your son, is he... ?" "Yours? No. He was born ten months after..." The music stopped, and Maria broke off her sentence, for the risk to be overheard was too great. With a last, reassuring pressure on his arm she disengaged herself. Finally, Tony found it possible to dance with Harriet. "How was your partner?" he asked lightly. "Charming, but very convinced of himself," Harriet sighed, smiling and shaking her head. "How was his wife?" "Who?" "You danced the Esmeralda with her." "That was his wife? I thought she was somebody's daughter, sent here to land a husband." "Oh, she has a husband. Only, if my instincts are not failing me, she may have to share him with a number of other ladies." "Oh! Did he make you uncomfortable?" "That would be an overstatement. He could be a nuisance were we to stay here longer. How was your dance with Doña Maria?" "She was telling me how well her life has turned out. Apparently, Don Alonso dotes on her, and she is quite happy over being a mother." "Disappointed?" Harriet asked. "Why should I?" "Because she is not pining for you?" "Believe me, Harriet, I can do without further complications on this mission," he sighed. "Yes, of course. By the way, our host is most devious. The Conde is not indisposed. He left Cartagena in a small vessel this evening to plead his case before the viceroy." "How is this devious of Don Alonso?" "He planted the idea in the conde's head and he persuaded Don Pietro of it. The conde is under challenge from Seitz-Bunau. To leave secretly will make it look like he evaded the challenge. Don Alonso has made sure than the viceroy will learn of that. The duel is prevented, the conde's reputation will be tarnished, and the viceroy will have no chance but to back your friend, Don Alonso. Don Pietro will be given a new post here in Cartagena, and everybody save for the conde will be happy. Come to think of it, the conde profits, too. He will not be shot by Seitz-Bunau." "You learned all this from your Almiral?" "Yes, he likes to think himself important, and with a little prodding he proved quite the tattler. Our little princess was also involved in the scheming. I can relate to her sentiment though. I can still recall the fears I felt when you fought that duel." Tony shook his head. "I have to admit: this is a most elegant solution to the situation. Seitz-Bunau can now proclaim that his adversary evaded him, restoring his honour, and I shan't have to report that King George's nephew shot the Spanish Governor in Cartagena." "Yes, it was well thought out by the governor." The music ended now. Seitz-Bunau approached and politely asked Harriet for the next dance. She accepted with a smile. Tony took the hint and asked the princess for the favour. She smiled at him. "I thought you would never ask, Sir Anthony," she mock-complained over her silk fan. The figures were simple enough, allowing for a relaxed conversation. The princess had something on her mind. "Your dear wife seems to be ill at ease with my cousin?" Tony made a face for show. "Doña Maria made a great impression on me when I had the chance to be of service to her. I was young and quite lacking courteous manners. Your cousin gave me guidance and perhaps I spoke of her with too much admiration when I related my adventures to my wife." "La! Jealousy? How unusual for Harriet, but yet, how understandable. My own test will come soon enough once we return to London." "I beg your pardon?" "Anita Heyworth, of course. My husband chose to be honest, and while I appreciate his candid honesty I fear that I shall feel the same unease around Miss Heyworth that your wife feels around my cousin." Tony had his wits about him. "The situation is not comparable at all." She gave him a smiling nod, acknowledging his parry. "It isn't, but then again, it is. My husband feels the same admiration for Miss Heyworth that you expressed for my cousin." "He and more than half of London's men," Tony smiled easily. "Miss Heyworth lives for her art, foremost, and she never dallies with married men." "Of course, she is good friends with you and with your dear wife. How come that Harriet feels no jealousy towards her?" "You are quite inquisitive, your Highness. The answer is simple: Harriet and Miss Heyworth were friends before I entered her life again, yet she does not know Doña Maria yet. I hope to change that." The young princess was quite curious and Tony was glad enough when the music stopped. The ladies under Doña Maria's leadership withdrew to freshen up, and the men joined the governor for cigars and brandy. Seitz-Bunau caught Tony in a corner and whispered to him urgently. "De Alcala has eloped to Panama, Sir Anthony!" "I just learned about it, Captain. That should discredit him for good, along with his insults. Who can take the man seriously now?" "Sir, do you believe I should let things be, or should I endeavour to seek him out?" "Captain, you are newly married to the most charming young lady any man can dream of winning. My advice is to enjoy your good fortune. You have issued a challenge, and it is for your adversary to respond to it. If he shirks this gentlemanly duty, that says enough about his character, does it not?" "Indeed, Sir Anthony, it does. I suppose I should let the matter rest until it comes to the fore again." "That is unlikely. Given the conde's debauchery and the pestilent climate in Panama I should be surprised if he ever returns to Europe." The governor was raising his glass now. "To His Majesty, King George of Great Britain and Ireland! May he live and rein in glory!" Tony had to get his thoughts in order, but then he responded in kind. "To His Most Catholic Majesty King Fernando of Spain! May he be restored to the throne of his fathers and may the Corsican usurper perish!" More toasts followed and Tony drank a little more brandy than planned. He was not sorry, though. The day had been far more pleasant than anticipated, and some of his own fears had been laid to rest. It was late when the dinner ended, and his hosts were adamant that he accepted their hospitality. Thus, he and Harriet were led into a well-adorned guest room where they soon sank onto the curtained bed to fall into an exhausted sleep. ------- Chapter 28: Old Haunts Once again, HMS Clyde was gliding through the waters of the Caribbean Sea. It was as if the ship felt free of unlucky spirits again the way she danced over the low waves under the press of her sails. Cartagena with the Don Alonso and with Doña Maria was behind them. That was both good and bad for Tony. Good, because Maria and Harriet had been able to keep their rivalry in check; bad, because Tony had hoped for the two most important women in his life to become friends. They never progressed to that. It was with a mixed feeling of loss and relief that Tony had given orders to make ready for sea. Three weeks spent in the harbour of Cartagena had been the most he could justify, and now his orders specified that he touched Kingston on the return journey to pick up a convoy if possible. Thus, Clyde was sailing on a northbound course under full sail. The hurricane season was not too far away, and Tony was anxious to leave the dangerous waters before they ran any risk of encountering a cyclone. It was the second day of their leg to Kingston and at their current speed of seven to eight knots, Tony anticipated four days of sailing. It was early morning and to his knowledge Harriet was still asleep. Seitz-Bunau was on deck of course, going over the blackboard with the sailing master. Tony therefore had the windward side of the quarterdeck to himself. Pacing up and down, he tried to get his plans ready for the day and beyond. In Kingston they would have to attend dinners and receptions again. That could not be helped given whom Clyde carried. Everybody would be delighted to have His Serene Highness and his new wife for dinner, and the Carters would just have to go along. The clatter of silverware and china could now be heard through the skylight and Tony surmised that he would be called for breakfast soon. Harriet insisted on table times being kept if possible and the thought of the delicacies that they had acquired whilst in Cartagena sufficed to let his momentary annoyance evaporate. There was no reason anyway. Breakfast and in fact all meals were now taken in excellent mood. Being rid of the conde had much to do with it, but Harriet's mood was lighter, too. She was obviously over her worries. The thought of good food had awakened Tony's appetite, and now he was growing annoyed over the wait until the steward appeared on deck. "Lady Carter's compliments, Sir Anthony, and breakfast is served!" "My compliments, and I shall be there presently," he answered, forcing himself to pace for a few more minutes to avoid the impression that the commodore jumped when his wife called. Harriet looked up with a smile. "Oh, there you are, darling! We have pineapples and the rest of the baked ham." That was indeed a delicacy, and Tony could also smell the strong coffee that had been brewed. A smile spread over his face. "A breakfast fit for kings," he smiled, but then he became aware of his captain. "For princes, too, I should hope." Seitz-Bunau smiled. "I assure you, Sir, that it beats roasted rat." His young wife looked at him, quite aghast, and he explained with a rueful smile. "Oh, when sailing in the Atropos we would sometimes catch rats. Midshipmen are always hungry. I tried them a few times, and whilst I prefer baked ham any time, I found them tastier than salted pork from old casks." "Oh, dear!" the princess exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that the young gentlemen in this ship... ?" "Very likely," Tony nodded. "Although chances are that they are still well provisioned from our stay in Cartagena." "Did you, too... ?" Harriet asked, her eyebrows raised. "Oh, once or twice. Captain Fanning kept the Medusa well provisioned, and we returned to port frequently, so there was no dire need for fresh meat. Yet, on one or two occasions the midshipmen had rat for dinner." Harriet shook her head at first but then she shrugged. "I suppose it is one of the things one cannot understand without having gone hungry oneself." The bacon indeed tasted better than spitted rat, and the pineapple slices complimented the flavour. Nobody had lost appetite either, and the breakfast proceeded in friendly conversation. Whilst the women retired together, Tony and the prince returned to the quarter deck, if only to enjoy the morning. The sky was of an immaculate, azure colour and the sea, too, showed a deep blue which contrasted beautifully with the white wake of the three ships. In the light breeze the two sloops had no problems keeping up with the fast frigate, and Tony had to admit that the command of this small flotilla was a pleasant duty. He sighed then, thinking that this pleasantry would come to an end after their return to England. The Spanish courtiers in London would cry murder as soon as they learned about the mesalliance between a Spanish royal princess and a heretic German prince. Seitz-Bunau would easily weather the uproar, being of Hanover blood. Tony, however, would be made the scape goat. He had prepared himself as best he could. He carried letters both from Don Alonso and from the viceroy – a courier had arrived from Panama two days before their departure – both stating that the appointment of the conde to the governorship in Cartagena was null and void. Don Alonso had added another letter stating that he fully approved of the marriage between his wife's cousin and His Serene Highness. It was fortunate, too, that the uncle who had been intended to serve as guardian for the princess had succumbed to one of the rampant fevers, and His Excellency The Governor could claim the guardianship and thus could give his blessing to the marriage post factum. Still, Tony expected a reprimand at the least. With an effort he suppressed those thoughts. Right now he was still in command of the three ships. He was entitled to wear a rear admiral's uniform, and if they beached him he would maintain his current rank, albeit on half pay. He was wealthy enough to live in dignity with Harriet and their children, and truth be told, he would not mind a decade or two spent with his family and eating fresh produce. Whilst he mulled these thoughts his unconscious registered the casting of the log, the deck wash detail, and all the other work being performed around him, work that kept the Clyde a seaworthy ship. Even fresh out of the dry dock there were a thousand things to be repaired every month, and in the heat of the equatorial sun the seams of the deck were suffering and had to be patched constantly. Tony looked up at the new masts. He liked the new rigging with the raked masts. They felt stiffer in a breeze, more responsive, and Tony had to admit that they added a touch of speed to Clyde's already impressive sailing. Oh, to be rid of those sloops and to run out the stunsails just once! On this calm water and with the steady breeze abeam Clyde surely would fly! Tony caught himself grinning like a school boy. Indeed, why not? He turned to the wheel. "Midshipman of the watch!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" the boy squeaked, terrified at being addressed by the Great Man himself. "Send signal. Clyde to squadron: Set more sail!" "Aye-aye, Sir!" the midshipman answered, already going over the necessary flag signal. "Sir August, may I trouble you to have the stuns'ls run out? Let us see how she can run!" From Seitz-Bunau's broad grin Tony could see that his captain appreciated the opportunity. The pipes shrilled throughout the ship and seconds later the crew entered up. It took ten minutes, but then the stunsails were set and Clyde lay over under the additional press of sail. Her movements became more lively even on the smooth water, but did she fly! With all sail set to the last spanker and stays'l the large frigate turned into a racehorse. Through his telescope, Tony could see that the two sloops had also brought up all their canvas, but Clyde was clearly outrunning both of them by a knot or more. "Mr. Uxbridge, have the log cast if you please!" Seitz-Bunau ordered, and freshly appointed Acting Lieutenant Alexander Uxbridge gave the necessary orders. Once back in England, he would take the examination, Tony planned, and then his own obligation was fulfilled to give the young nephew of Pierce Fallon a good start in the service. "Thirteen and a half, Sir!" Uxbridge almost yelled in his excitement. Tony and Seitz-Bunau grinned at each other like school boys after a successful prank. Was there anything better than having a perfect ship? ------- After the four days of racing over the calm waters of the Caribbean Sea, the oppressive heat of Kingston was doubly unpleasant. There was no joy in standing on the quarter deck with Clyde anchored, and there was no joy in planning the next day. Another day spent wearing his Nº2 uniform to a sequence of teas held in the town houses of Kingston's elite. Tony had anticipated the attraction of King George's grandnephew visiting Jamaica, even more so as he was also presenting his beautiful young wife for the first time in society. What Tony had not envisioned was the desire of everybody to meet Commodore Sir Anthony Carter, K.B., a son of Jamaica and a hero of Trafalgar fame. There were even people who remembered Harriet from the time Sir Richard Lambert had been Commander-in-Chief of the Kingston station, and that added to the blatant adoration Tony received. With all the teas, dinners and soirees they had to attend Tony and Harriet had decided to skip their meals on board the Clyde entirely, drinking coffee and tea instead to fight the dull tiredness. With a sigh, Tony looked at the coach that had drawn up on the quay. Breakfast at Government House. He would see Harriet there who had been coerced to stay as guest of His Excellency The Governor, Wm Montagu, Duke of Manchester, along with the Princess Isabel. Sighing one more time, Tony had his gig called. To his surprise the ladies were not present. His Excellency explained that they were breaking their fast with the Duchess Montagu. The Duke had been appointed a year ago and Tony held him for an able man. With him was the commander in chief of the North American Station, Vice-Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren. Tony had never met him before arriving in Kingston, but he knew the reputation of the man. Though never part of a large fleet engagement, his exploits on the French coast in the 1790s were legendary. Tony could not help being tongue-tied around him. Nevertheless, Borlase Warren was all kindness. "Ah, Commodore, there you are! We have been waiting anxiously for you," Borlase Warren spoke up. "Your Excellency, Sir John," Tony spoke stiffly, bowing in turn to his superiors. "Tut-tut! No need for such formality, my dear Carter," the Duke smiled. "Kindly be seated. Pommeroy, take the Commodore's orders!" A servant appeared and Tony asked for a cup of coffee and a buttered toast, the most his stomach could stand after a week of dinners. "Have a look at this, Carter," Sir John said once the servant was gone, handing Tony a report. Tony quickly read it; it was written by the captain of a post packet. Apparently, she had been chased by a privateer or pirate when entering the Windward Passage a week ago, and only due to the fresh coppering of her bottom had the small ship evaded capture. The privateer ship in question was a small full-rigged ship, a corvette as the French would call it, and she was fast according to the packet's captain. She had chased him for two days, appearing right after they passed Tortuga Island, and she only gave up when another sail came in sight ahead. "That was the third reported sighting of that ship," Borlase Warren said. "She seems to hail from the former Hispaniola, the Spanish part. I had my frigates patrolling around Tortuga and west to Cape Francais, but no trace. The fellow Christophe who took over after Dessaline has given us assurance that they do not allow privateers in the north of Hispaniola, but what can he do?" The governor spoke up now. "The point is, Commodore, that you have been to Hispaniola in '04. You know the island. Can you think of any hideout, away from those larger settlements where Christophe has authority?" "Fort Liberté is too big, then," Tony mused in response. Then the idea struck him, and it must have been evident. "You seem to have an idea, Commodore?" Borlase Warren prodded. "There is this old convent, at a bay a hundred leagues to the east of Cape Francais, the Bahia de Gracias. It is mentioned in my old report. It is where we freed the English prisoners. I remember that Black general telling me that the bay was an old hideout of the buccaneers." "Indeed?" Borlase Warren snapped his fingers. "Flags, a map of Hispaniola!" A flag lieutenant rushed from the room to return only a minute later carrying a map. Bending over it, Tony followed the coast line with his finger. "I am not entirely sure, Sir. I know I took the position but I cannot quite..." Tony shook his head. "I can look it up. I was sailing in the Clyde then; it should still be in her logbook." "Splendid, Commodore!" the governor exclaimed. Tony was still examining the chart. "It must be this cove, Sir, the Bahia de Gracias. The coast line is a bit different than in this chart, but I'm reasonably certain. I can confirm it using my logbook. There are other coves to the east, but this one is well protected and there is a hidden anchorage in the western arm of the cove. Yes, I am indeed certain, Sir. The convent would be just a bit inland. We left it intact then, and there are underground gaols. Good water, too." The governor and the admiral looked at each other, and then they both nodded. Borlase Warren squinted at Tony. "Commodore, can we ask you to take your ships and have a good look there? I understand that your orders are to wait for the next convoy, but I am willing to take the responsibility of changing those orders. I can spare another small frigate, the Humber, and some marines." Tony thought quickly. Any time spent looking for the privateer hideout would prolong his time in command, would also put the affair around the princess further into the past. To violate his orders was a risk. Still, if the commander-in-chief backed him up he would be covered. And then he realised that there was only one path for him. "I should feel honoured to be given that task, Sir John," he replied, even fighting a grin. "I trust that you will allow me to extend my hospitality to Lady Carter for the duration of your mission?" the governor asked. That was something Tony had not thought about. It was sensible. They would likely encounter fighting if they found the privateers. To expose Harriet to such danger would be foolhardy. Yet, to send her back to England in a post packet when a privateer roamed the Windward Passage would be equally risky. It was best to leave her in Kingston with the princess and to pick her up again once the mission was concluded, which ever way it turned out. It would mean to stay in the Caribbean with the hurricane season looming, but that could not be helped. At least Harriet would be safe staying with the Governor. "That would be exceedingly kind of you, Your Excellency," Tony responded. "I am sure that my wife will be delighted to spend the time with her ladyship." "Oh, the pleasure is mostly ours. It is rare for my dear wife to have compatible companions, and your charming wife has made a very good impression on everybody." ------- Harriet already knew about the plans when Tony met her during a small noon meal at the governor's mansion. She adopted a philosophical view of the matter. Tony was in command of a squadron and his squadron was needed. There was nothing he or she could do short of Tony resigning his command, and even that required a good reason. Sir John had already given orders for the Humber to make ready for sea, giving Tony a force that was well suited for the task. Given what the packet captain had reported, the suspected privateer would be a rather large bite to chew and swallow for either of Tony's two sloops, but with two frigates – one of them mounting long 24-pounders and being exceptionally fast – they stood a reasonable chance to catch even a fast privateer on the open sea. That evening Tony invited his captains to dinner on board the Clyde. The women stayed ashore, for this was a council of war and indeed the captains went over the charts and made plans for the expected scenarios. It would be ideal to catch the privateer in its lair, but for that, luck had to be on their side. Nevertheless, they could capture the old convent and thus make the sheltering bay useless for the privateer's use. It all depended on whether the privateer had succeeded in capturing a prey. If not, it would still be prowling. Maybe not around the Windward Passage, but the Mona Passage to the east of Hispaniola was also rich in shipping, mostly under Spanish colours now that Spain was an ally of the British. After some deliberations they decided on a scissors tactic: whilst the slower Humber together with Pickleberry's Thetis would sweep the Windward passage from south-west to north-east and then continue along the norther coastline of Hispaniola, Clyde with Kite as the faster ships would completely circumnavigate Hispaniola by sailing the Mona Passage. Coming upon the privateer from either direction the four ships would box her in somewhere north of Hispaniola where the prevailing north-eastern trade winds would hinder any escape to the north. Captain Merriweather of Humber was a man of fifty year, having risen into his position from before the mast, and Tony paired him up with Pickleberry on purpose. The young commander had to learn to accept authority, even when authority was personified by a grizzled veteran officer. Merriweather understood their scheme to catch the privateer immediately. He was easily the most experienced navigator in the small squadron, and he could be trusted not to let the corvette slip through. They agreed to have Clyde and Kite sail first, followed two days later by Humber and Thetis. The two day head start would see Clyde and her consort close to the Mona Passage at about the same time the other two ships would enter the Windward Passage. Of course, nothing could be planned exactly for the timing depended on a myriad of things that could influence the progress of a sailing ship. No information was given to the crew or to outsiders. Only Harriet knew about the destination and she hid her worry well when they dined in the governor's mansion the next evening. Her farewell kiss did not betray the fact that they would not see each other for weeks, and when Tony and Seitz-Bunau returned to the Clyde they only gave orders to ready the ship for sailing. After a short night and with the earliest land breeze the big frigate and the small ship-rigged sloop left Kingston Harbour. They had to beat close-hauled against the north-easterly trade wind, but with two weatherly ships they still made good progress on their east-south-east course, sailing the length of Hispaniola's south side. As anticipated, the third morning saw them south of Mona Island. They went about then, splitting up, with Clyde taking the eastern route close to Puerto Rico where Spanish shipping was abundant, whilst Kite sailed to the west of Mona Island where a privateer was less likely to prowl. Reuniting east of Punta Caña, they made their way to northwest, still without sighting any suspicious sail. Next they inspected the anchorage at Samaña Bay, but they only found small fishing vessels and nothing like a full-rigged ship. After rounding Samaña Point the two ships sailed at ten miles distance abeam of each other, with Kite patrolling close to the coast and Clyde taking the seaward position. Thus they could watch a thirty league radius while sailing westward. Again, they did not see anything larger than fishing boats. On the evening of the fourth day the two ships sighted Puerto Plata and Tony made the decision to enter the Bahia de Gracias before the land breeze woke up. He had gone over the old entries in the Clyde's log book, and he was confident that he could handle the navigation even at night. The bay was deep enough to be sailed without dangers, and if they found no shipping they could leave again with the land breeze. Tony and Seitz-Bunau went over the preparations that evening, detailing boarding crews and boat crews, but also instructing Captain Marsh of the Marines as to the location of the old monastery. In a fit of superstition, Tony had John Little prepare his old, Jamaican sword. It had served him well during his first visit. He spend time to load his pistols carefully and had the boots pulled from the storage which he had used during the landing operations on the Peninsula. They sighted the small inlet towards the end of the Middle Watch, and Clyde took the lead entering the sheltered bay. The ship's lights had been extinguished, and the moon was down already. The fluorescent surf gave them enough markers though to navigate the inlet. They sailed under staysails only to disguise the big frigate as best as possible. The guns were loaded and run out and the boat crews were detailed and ready. The boats, fully equipped and even provisioned, were already trailing behind to minimise the time to man them. Staring intently forward into the dark, Tony gave his commands in a low voice. The freshly greased steerage emitted almost no sound, and the use of the staysails eliminated the creaking of the yards. Clyde glided through the darkness like a ghost ship. The inlet into the western branch of the bay was only a cable length wide, but the water was deep as Tony remembered. There! Ahead in the darkness loomed the shape of a ship. The lookout did not hail but rather sent down a runner. "Sir, there's a ship to starboard, mebbe two cable lengths to forrard, Sir!" she boy whispered excitedly. Tony nodded to Seitz-Bunau who gave whispered orders to Mr. Hunslow, the First Lieutenant. The trailing boats were pulled alongside, and the boat crews tumbled down the side. Five minutes later, the boats shoved off into the darkness. Tony forced himself to stay calm. If the worst fear materialised, the boats were about to attack a Haitian ship, but that was unlikely. Haiti did not have much of a navy, and what ships they had were based along the south coast. Clyde glided on for another cable length, and then Tony gave another nod to Seitz-Bunau. The anchor splashed into the quiet water of the bay, and Clyde softly swayed around it. Both side boats were readied quickly, and the first detachment of the marines left the ship for the northern shore. Tony and John Little were the only men who knew the terrain, and they followed next in the gig whilst the side boats returned to the ship. Already, the boats from Kite were drawing close to the shore whilst the marines took up sentry positions. It took another fifteen or twenty minutes, but then the landing force was assembled. Cmdr. Burroughs was leading the party from his ship, and he would be second-in-command. With John Little at his side, the commander led a party of sailors as advance force. With their bare feet and not encumbered by the rattling gear of the soldiers they would advance on the convent, hopefully to take whoever dwelled there by surprise. Tony would lead the larger force of Royal Marines and follow Burroughs' men once he had news from the crews detached to capture the anchored ship. The advance force had just left the beach when a dingy boat made its way to the beach. A midshipman jumped over the side and came running, only to trip in the soft sand and fall headlong into the shallow water. Silencing the chuckle of the men around him with an angry stare, Tony waited for the boy to get up. "Beg your pardon, Sir!" the boy almost sobbed. "We've taken the ship, Sir. She's a flush decked sloop, eighteen guns, Sir. Anchor watch of ten, but drunk an' asleep when we boarded. No losses on our side, Sir, but the two men on deck are dead, Sir. Watkins cut their..." the young boy gulped, obviously overwhelmed by the violence he had just witnessed. "I understand, Mr. Pollock," Tony whispered. "My respects to Mr. Uxbridge and will he ready the ship for sailing with the first light." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Pollock whispered back, standing straight in his bedraggled uniform, before he waded back to the dingy. "All right, you men! We've got ourselves a prize already. Now, let's see what we find in the damn monastery and get out of this hell hole!" It was the crack of dawn when they left the beach, leaving a force of ten sailors to guard the boats. It was amazing how Tony found his way through the luxurious growth. It was clear that somebody had kept the path from the beach to the monastery open over the years. From ahead, they suddenly heard the sound of steel on steel. The advance party had finally met with resistance. Quickening his pace, Tony led his men up a little slope and around a bend. There, they found the advance party in a struggle with a large group of almost naked men of all colours. There was no time to lose with loading the muskets. "Affix bayonets!" the captain of the marines ordered sharply, and Tony heard the clatter as the soldiers clamped the blades to their muskets. "All ready? Charge!" The presumed privateer crew had been holding their own against Burroughs' advance party, but the attack of almost fifty marines broke their ranks. Still, they kept fighting almost to the last man, confirming Tony's assumption that these men were not sailing under a letter of marquee, but were pirates who could not expect quarter when captured. His sword drawn and a pistol in his left, Tony advanced on the arched gate of the convent. The sun was up now, and the mist of the early morning added to the mystique of the moment. It was as if he had travelled into his past, standing once again in the outer courtyard of the convent. He half expected the old madre superior to charge at him, but it was a burly Creole man who came running, a massive sabre in his huge hand. At almost the last moment, Tony glided to his left, out of the path of the charging pirate thus defeating the man's momentum. "Surrender, Mister!" Tony ordered briefly. "Fils de la putain!" the man swore, turning against Tony with his sabre raised in an amateurish attack. Inwardly shrugging Tony riposted, extending himself and his sword by almost two yards in one swift move. The tip tore into the man's chest, and Tony quickly whirled to the right, to avoid the descending sabre. Around him, the fight was over, and he returned his attention to the already dying pirate at his feet. "Your name, Mister?" he asked calmly whilst the man twitched on the ground. "Merde!" he snarled. Tony really shrugged now. "If that's what you want on your grave marker..." His witty repartee was wasted though, for the man's eyes had already turned blank. He was dead. "Captain Marsh! Kindly take your men and search the convent. There are underground dungeons; make sure to search for prisoners down there." "Aye-aye, Sir!" Marsh nodded. Quickly, two parties of marines entered the old building whilst the rest of the landing party secured the three surviving pirates. No pretty Scottish lass was among those, Tony reflected with a smile whilst thinking fondly of Jenny Johnsen. Her father, the late Harry Morgan, had been almost a gentleman compared with the uncouth loudmouth at Tony's feet. The search of the convent turned up over thirty slaves but also twelve captured sailors. The pirates had kept the slaves for selling them around the islands and the sailors – three Englishmen, two Dutch, and seven Spaniards – for ransom. The sailors were in a bad shape, almost all of them with wounds in various stages of healing or festering. The slaves had been given better treatment so as not to lessen their value, but still, several of them bore fresh whipping marks. It was telling how the pirate crew, some of them Blacks themselves, had no qualms about trading in slaves. The search also produced a sizeable loot. The pirate sloop must have been active for a while since coined money, artefacts and jewellery were found in large quantities. Some small items belonged to the freed sailors, but the majority of the loot would benefit the crews of Clyde and Kite. Time and again, Cmdr. Burroughs could be seen stroking his greyish beard with satisfaction. The pirate ship – the Tortue – would also yield a pretty penny in prize money. By early afternoon, the freed prisoners and the Black slaves had all been ferried out to the ships for treatment of their wounds, whilst the bound pirates were also locked away to await trial in Kingston. Four barrels of gunpowder were manned into the dungeon basement of the convent whilst Tony and Cmdr. Burroughs led the landing party back to the beach. The rear guard lit the slow fuses and rushed back to the beach, too. They were safely on board their ships when a dull thunder sounded and debris and smoke were seen flying over the lush foliage west of the anchorage. The place would be less attractive for pirates now, Tony thought with grim satisfaction. The ships remained anchored for the remainder of the day, with the crews resting and the surgeons working on the wounded. Four marines and three sailors had been wounded in the skirmish, and several of the freed prisoners needed attention. On Tony's suggestion, Seitz-Bunau and Burroughs recruited volunteers from among the sailors and slaves they had freed, with the exception of the Spaniards who as allies would be returned to the Spanish possessions. For the African slaves the starter of the boatswain's mate would be the lesser evil compared with the taskmaster's bullwhip on a sugar plantation. In the unlikely case that peace would come one day, they would even gain their freedom. Harriet would like that, Tony thought fondly. Tony made use of the afternoon by writing his report, giving credit both to Seitz-Bunau and Burroughs, and naming Captain Marsh but also John Little. All these little things could decide over a man's career, and Tony went over the report twice to make sure that his wording could not be misconstrued. They kept a strong anchor watch, and Seitz-Bunau had a spring cable brought out so that Clyde could be brought around if an enemy entered the bay. In addition, guard boats were rowed across the inlet. A little after midnight, their sleep was indeed interrupted when a shot was fired from the guard boats. Immediately, the crews went to stations and the marines pulled the spring cable until the Clyde's starboard broadside faced the inlet. Then one blue and two red flares showed and Tony could see the ghostly shapes of his other ships as they entered the bay. An answering signal was made and the ship's lanterns were lit again. A quarter hour later Tony received the captains in his cabin. Humber and Thetis had followed their orders to canvas the Windward Passage. However, in the process they had intercepted a French ship heading out from Port au Prince. It was a small but welcome catch. The chance encounter also explained why the two ships had arrived a little later than anticipated. Commander Pickleberry first gloated over this small capture, but then showed his dismay when Seitz-Bunau told them about the captured ship-rigged privateer and the loot inside the monastery. The rules were clear. The prize money and loot would be shared by any ship that was in sight at the time of the capture, meaning Humber and Thetis would get nothing. Something had been left unsaid and unreported, for Captain Merriweather could be seen shooting angry glances at Pickleberry. ------- His Excellency the Duke of Manchester was cordial, and so was Vice-Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren. The small expedition had lasted only a little over two weeks, and the threat posed by the pirate base on Hispaniola's northern coast was already dealt with. Add to that the capture of a French ship, and the operation had been a full success. The orders and other papers found with the prizes yielded important intelligence, and the governor had already sent out dispatch ships of his own to spread the gleaned information to the British possessions. The celebratory dinner at the governor's mansion was another gesture of his goodwill. Of course, Tony sat with Harriet on this occasion, and Seitz-Bunau escorted his young wife to the table. Captain Merriweather, too, was accompanied by his wife, a woman his age who betrayed their rather humble origins. The poor soul was terribly flustered over being in the presence of an honest-to-God prince and his equally exalted wife, and it spoke for the Princess Isabel's good heart that she made a valiant effort to ease Mrs. Merriweather's apprehensions. When the main courses had been served and the women retired to the tea parlour, the gentlemen joined the governor on the balcony for cigars and brandy. After the toasts, Borlase Warren waved Tony to the side. "The convoy will be ready to sail in a week, and of course I'll put you in command. I've given you all the credit for this little operation and the Duke will add a piece, too, in support of the decisions you had to make. Do you have anything in writing from the governor at Cartagena to support your standpoint?" Tony nodded. "I do, Sir. Both from the governor and from the Spanish viceroy in Panama. I fear the Spanish envoy will suffer a stroke when he reads their statements." "One nincompoop less to bother the ministry. The thought alone that three King's ships were sent to convey a drunkard to his post is irksome enough whilst we have barely enough frigates to perform our duties. Be that as it may, you must be wary. I spoke to Mr. Balmer, the planter, this afternoon. His son and his nephew sit in Parliament. He has offered support for you. It would seem that he does business with Whitney's shipping line and with Sir Robert Norton, the City merchant. Make certain that you keep them on your side or there is no telling what may happen to your career." "I understand, Sir," Tony said. "I wanted to dine with Mr. Whitney anyway, but perhaps Mr. Balmer would enjoy such a dinner, too? In particular, with His Serene Highness and the Princess Consort in attendance?" Borlase Warren nodded. "Yes, that would be a good way to start a friendship. Again, be wary. The Court will drop you like a hot potato to protect the interests of Seitz-Bunau. He may be grateful and loyal but the same cannot be said for his handlers at Court." "I shall bear that in mind, Sir." "Very well! By the way, I have also requested you and your squadron for my station. Not much of a chance for that, but why not try? That might keep you away from London until things have cooled off." "Thank you, Sir. That is very kind of you." "Never mind. I just hate it when good officers get caught up in the stupid schemes of politicians." ------- They had torn down all the bulkheads, creating a single, huge after cabin. Tables and chairs had been loaned from the governor, to seat the over twenty dinner guests. As the host and hostess, Tony and Harriet stood near the port to welcome each visitor as they came aboard. Tony had not seen Mr. Whitney in years, but the older man greeted him with a mixture of reverence and paternal affection. "My dear Sir Anthony, we are so proud of you here in Kingston. If only your father could have lived to see you now!" Tony smiled in response. "He might have voiced his protest against my joining the Royal Navy." "Do not think that, Sir Anthony! He served briefly in the Navy, in 1779, and he was always proud of that." "I know that he was a master's mate, but nothing ever indicated pride," Tony replied, remembering how his father had always spoken ill of the Navy and of Navy officers. "Yet, he was. After all, it was then that he met your dear mother." "And he maintained that was the only good thing to come out of his service," Tony laughed. "Let us not speculate, my dear Mr. Whitney. Please meet my wife, Lady Carter." "Enchanted, milady!" Whitney blurted bowing deeply. "I had the honour of meeting your father, Sir Richard, on a few occasions." "And your ship, the stout John Carter conveyed me safely home from Barbados. I thank you for that, Mr. Whitney." Harriet was becoming a practiced chit-chatter. Whitney turned his attention back to Tony. "Perhaps, we could meet in the next days to discuss a few business matters? The dealings that we have with Sir Robert Norton are quite profitable but may force us to expand." "I am glad to hear that. Sir Robert is a very successful man and known to be a fair business partner. We shall weigh anchor in a few days, so it might be better if we met tomorrow. Say, after lunch?" "That would suit me just fine. Sir Robert has made a suggestion, and I would like to hear your opinion." "It is settled then. I shall call upon you at two o'clock." Mr. Balmer and arrived next, followed by a young woman. Tony had thought that he did not know the man, but seeing him he remembered meeting him once when Tony and his father had been invited to dine at Balmer's Kingston house. "I am overjoyed to see you again, Mr. Balmer," he said therefore. "It is my pleasure to meet one of our heroes in person, Sir Anthony. And if I may say so, I can still remember you as a promising young lad. A mate your were in your father's ship, weren't you?" "Indeed. I believe it was late in '96. Please meet my wife, Lady Carter." "Truly enchanted, milady! I had the pleasure of meeting your mother a few times during the season in London." "Is that so?" Harriet beamed. "She is of course very involved." "Indeed. Let me say that I also admired the way you fought for the hapless young Mr. O'Shaunessy. I wish his fortunes had been better." "Oh, but he was given a full pardon," Harriet exclaimed. "He received his own command, too." "Yes, but alas, his ship was lost during the last hurricane season. They must have been returning from Nova Scotia but they never arrived. She was declared a loss then." "Oh dear, the poor Siobhan!" Harriet exclaimed, feeling with her friend. "And he was such a gallant young man!" "A true loss, this," Tony agreed. "He was a most promising officer." "Such is the cruel fate of sailors sometimes," Mr. Balmer sighed heavily before his face brightened again. "May I introduce my daughter, Mrs. Pickerton?" The young woman behind Mr. Balmer stepped to the fore. She was a pretty blonde of perhaps twenty-five. Tony kissed her hand and introduced her to Harriet who greeted her friendly. "My daughter just recently joined society again after her mourning year. Her husband succumbed to a sudden stroke last year, the poor man being only fifty-two and leaving my Alice a young widow." "Oh, poor you!" Harriet exclaimed with exaggerated sympathy. Tony was attuned to his wife's moods and views and he picked up on the hidden sarcasm. Harriet did not think well of marriages arranged between girls and elderly men. Mrs. Alice Pickerton gave a sad smile. "At least he did not have to suffer," she said, but Tony saw something – mirth? – in her eyes. "My daughter will be travelling to London with the convoy next week. It is time for her to be re-introduced to society." "Oh, that is fortunate, my dear Mrs. Pickerton!" Harriet gushed, taking the young woman by her arm. "Why don't I introduce you to my friend, Her Serene Highness?" With that, Harriet was gone, dragging an excited Alice Pickerton along. "You are truly fortunate, Sir Anthony, to call Lady Carter your wife. She is such a warmhearted and principled woman!" Balmer gushed. "I could not have found a better wife," Tony agreed. When all the guests were assembled, the dinner started. Tony had wisely left the organisation to Harriet, and the guests were treated to a mix of English and Jamaican dishes, and a variety of wines from the Clyde's hold. The evening was a full success, and Harriet seemingly won a new friend in Mrs. Pickerton. They spoke a lot in private and they even hugged when the evening ended and Mr. Balmer's boat arrived to pick him and his daughter up. When the last guests had left, Harriet hooked her arm in Tony's. "She's a nice woman, but she must have been married to a man no less foul than Rupert Palmer." "Is that so?" Tony asked, wondering how Harriet could have found out. "I watched her eyes. Whenever her late husband was mentioned I saw the same hatred in them as the one that must have been in my eyes." "In that case, she has a chance for a new beginning." "I shall make sure that she meets the right people." "Picking up another stray?" Tony asked with his eyebrows raised. "She's not a stray. But yes, I'd like to take her under my wings for a while." She smiled at Tony. "That should also keep you in Mr. Balmer's good graces." "There is that," Tony agreed. "Let us hope all those preparations are not needed." ------- Chapter 29: Exile "Sir Anthony, Ushant is bearing two points to larboard, ten miles ahead," Captain His Serene Highness the Prince of Seitz-Bunau announced to his commodore. "Thank you, Sir August. The sloops are in sight?" "Yes, of course, Sir Anthony." "Kindly have a course set for Cape Finisterre, Sir August." "Aye-aye, Sir Anthony," Seitz-Bunau answered stoically. Their destination was not quite New South Wales, but it certainly felt like a punitive mission. They were headed for the Mediterranean coast of Spain, well away from London and from the angered politicians. Only a week ago, Tony had called at the Admiralty armed with his reports and all the supporting letters. His first report had caused the Secretary to their Lordships to lose his colour entirely, and soon, Tony had to repeat his report and his reasons to Lord Mulgrave, the First Lord of the Admiralty. That had not ended it. Two officials from the Foreign Office had appeared next, followed even by the Private Secretary of His Majesty George III. As Tony had expected, his report caused shortness of breath and heart burn for many of the gentlemen in the Ministry and at Court. Fortunately (in their view), His Excellency the Spanish Envoy was travelling in Ireland and would not learn about the effrontery until his return. More than once, Tony heard the question whether he had lost his mind entirely. However, the rather blunt letter from the Spanish Viceroy in Panama thanking the British Government to leave the governance of New Spain to the properly appointed authorities – namely himself – did not fail to fluster the Foreign Office representatives. In the end the assembled leaders decided on the time-honoured course to cover up the whole affair and to hope that nobody – least of all the newspapers – would ever learn of it. It was late afternoon when Lord Mulgrave gave Tony his orders in person: to sail his little squadron into the Mediterranean Sea and to stay there for at least a year. His orders were rather vague there. He was to worry the coast line from Barcelona to Malaga to intercept French supplies. Most importantly, he was to sail on the next morning. Not even time for provisioning was granted. Weigh anchor and get out of London, was Mulgrave's orders. Provision the ships at Plymouth, far away from London. Thus, Tony had barely an hour to see his children and to bade Harriet good-bye before he had to return to the Clyde. A very flustered Seitz-Bunau was already supervising the preparations for putting to sea. He, too, had been at the receiving end of a dressing down from several high ranking courtiers. Tony knew already that he'd not had the time to find proper accommodations for his young wife, and her Serene Highness was back to lodging with Harriet, much like before their departure for Colombia. Even that was considered too risque and a grim-looking Richard Lambert had advised his daughter of the desirability to keep the London house closed and to move to High Matcham with her young companion. Harriet acceded to that suggestion without so much as batting an eye. The whole affair was partly of her own doing, and she accepted the consequences. Her good-bye kiss for Tony left nothing unclear. Now the small squadron had provisioned in Plymouth and was heading for the Peninsula. They were not to touch Gibraltar, as rumours from there would quickly reach England. Instead, they would use Port Mahon on Menorca. The island was under Spanish rule but depended on English supplies and protection, and His Excellency the Governor was only too happy to offer his British allies the use of the port. There were worse duties than cruising the Mediterranean Sea looking for prizes, and Tony suspected that Lord Mulgrave had dreamed up the task to get him and Seitz-Bunau out of the line of fire. Lord Collingwood was still in command of the Mediterranean Station although Tony had read newspaper articles pointing at his impending relief. Not that he was found wanting: he was a model fleet commander. His health, however, was deteriorating. Tony hoped that the man would have some time left to enjoy his retirement and the recognition that was his due. There was little to do for Tony, and he immersed himself in a year's worth of newspapers to bring himself up to date on current affairs. The war on the Peninsula was a stalemate. Wellesley had returned to the theatre and given the French a beating at Talavera. He was however faced by a strong numerical superiority of the French troops, and he had accordingly built up a strong defensive line in the mountains to secure Portugal. Given the large number of soldiers the French had to feed and supply the coastal shipping between the French Mediterranean ports and the southern Spanish ports was a natural target. Not since Cochrane's campaign in '08 had the southern Spanish coast been the subject to British harassment and Tony was sent to change that. Later that morning Tony showed on deck, but not for long. Seitz-Bunau was growing into a confident leader and Tony did not wish to create the impression that he was involved in the ship's affairs. Anyway, the young man modelled his leadership closely on the example set by his commodore giving Tony little if any reason for interference. Crossing the Bay of Biscay in winter was never comfortable, and the two sloops were having a hard time to keep up. Seitz-Bunau wisely kept in one or two reefs more than needed to give the smaller vessels some reprieve. The promise of milder weather beyond the Strait kept the spirits up, however, and the prospect of cruiser warfare added to that. Once past Cape Finisterre the squadron registered improved weather. They gave the Portuguese coast a wide berth. Off Porto they met with a British transport and exchanged signals, but that was all the shipping they saw until they entered the Strait. Tony kept well to the African side while sailing past Gibraltar, adhering to the orders he had received from Mulgrave. Once sailing in the Mediterranean Sea, the need to keep away from land was over, and Tony sent his two sloops on reconnaissance missions to Marbella and Malaga. Within a day they returned. Pickleberry had seen three French brigs in Malaga, but Burroughs could only report fishing boats off Marbella. Tony filed away that information, deciding against an attempt on Malaga. Those French ships had probably discharged their cargos already and were shipping only ballast. No, the first strike had to be delivered on more promising targets. For three days, he kept his ships sailing up and down the coast east of Malaga, just out of sight from land. On the fourth morning, they were rewarded when another French brig ran into their arms. With the sloops closer to the shore, Tony had the Clyde positioned in a forward flanking position, and the French captain saw his escape routes blocked. Not that he would have stood a chance in a chase against the Clyde anyway, but Tony adhered to the principle to never give up a possible advantage. The cargo was rice – always fetching good prices – and small arms ammunition. The brig was only on her second voyage and her canvas was spotless white. Including the cargo, the 400 ton vessel would easily yield them £2.500, perhaps more. The men of the squadron rubbed their hands. This was a promising start indeed. Keeping the prize in their wake, they slowly sailed eastward in a line abeam, sweeping the coastal waters in a forty mile radius. Off Almeria, they caught the next coaster. It had only 200 tons, but it shipped a cargo of brandies, contraband as Tony suspected but welcome nonetheless. When they reached Barcelona, the northern border of their patrol sector, they were trailed by no fewer than five brigs and coasters. They had caught three more vessels sailing mostly with ballast, and Tony had transferred what little cargo they shipped to the other prizes before they were scuttled. This success created an unforeseen dilemma. The nearest prize court was in Gibraltar. His orders were to use Port Mahon as his base, but where was he to have his prizes adjudged? To win some time, Tony had his ships head for their base. There had to be a British consul in Port Mahon who could advise him. Upon entering Port Mahon they saw a huge first rate ship of the line anchored. It was the Ville de Paris, Collingwood's flagship. Seitz-Bunau knew Collingwood, having served as midshipman in the Ville de Paris, and thus Tony had his young captain accompany him when he had himself rowed over to the flagship. Tony had a surprise seeing Sir Edward Berry, formerly of HMS Agamemnon, waiting at the port. "Welcome aboard, Sir Anthony," he greeted them. "Thank you, Sir Edward. May I present Captain Sir August of Seitz-Bunau of HMS Clyde?" "Welcome aboard, Sir August," Berry nodded. "I believe you served under my predecessor?" "Indeed, Sir Edward," Seitz-Bunau returned. "Gentlemen, if you came to report to Lord Collingwood, I cannot give you much hope. His Lordship is gravely ill and we fear that he is only days from meeting his maker." Tony was certain that he lost all his colour, for Berry nodded sadly. "Yes, indeed. A great man is dying. From time to time he is still lucid. I shall undertake to ask him if he is willing to see you. I shall make a flag signal then. He always spoke well of you." "That would be kind, Sir Edward." "Be that as it may, gentlemen, may I offer you refreshments in my cabin?" "We should be grateful, Sir Edward." Sitting a sipping a fine Minorcan red wine, they exchanged news and gossip. They also found out that the nearest prize court was indeed in Gibraltar. Berry promised to escort the prizes there once he left Port Mahon, freeing Tony of the necessity to put into Gibraltar. Of course, he had to explain a little of what had happened, and it put a small smile on Berry's face. "You'd think they're doing us a favour letting us fight for them, the Dons do. Personally, I liked them better as enemies than as allies." ------- For the next days the small squadron was busy affecting repairs and restocking their water supplies. On their second day, Tony had a chance to see his former admiral for one last time, and he returned to the Clyde shaken and depressed. Collingwood had been reduced almost to a skeleton by the illness, and it was easy to see that only days remained for him. Wincing with pain he had directed a few kind words at Tony, only to close his eyes again when the agony became too much. Then he opened his eyes once more to whisper a few words. "How we mourned Nelson, but he was the lucky one dying at the peak of his glory." Tony could see how a man dying from cancer might consider the fallen Nelson lucky. When Collingwood closed his eyes again Tony bade his farewell, not wishing for the man to suffer any additional pain. Berry escorted him to the deck, himself with brimming eyes. Early on the next morning, a ten-gun salute rolled over the harbour while Collingwood's flag was slowly lowered to half-mast. Only minutes later, Clyde and her consorts answered the salute in kind, and the captains had themselves rowed to the Ville de Paris. The decks were filled with the crews when the chaplain conducted a brief memorial service for their dead admiral. He would be transported back to England in his flagship, like pickled fruit in a rum cask, and given a pompous burial. Here, however, on the decks of his flagship, the officers and crews had a true measure of the man, and the hymns they sang in his memory came from their hearts. On the next morning Ville de Paris weighed her anchors. Accompanied by Clyde's prizes she left for Gibraltar, carrying the first set of reports from Tony. A day later the small squadron went up anchor to resume their patrols of the Spanish coast. ------- The pleasant spring weather had long made place for the sweltering heat of the Mediterranean summer, and HMS Clyde with the sloops was still patrolling up and down the Spanish south coast. The French were warned now and the pickings had become slimmer. Yet, a steady trickle of prizes was sent to Gibraltar for adjudication, and by July Tony had received the first statement from his prize agent in Gibraltar. The prizes had all been sold to private buyers, and the monies came in much faster than from the notoriously slow Navy agencies. The total value of the prizes already exceeded £24.000 of which one eighth was his share. The three captains shared in a quarter, yielding them each £2.000. Those sums even placated the ambitious Commander Pickleberry, and they were equally welcome for a prince without lands. They had to weather a few severe summer storms, but nothing which could not be handled by the ships and their crews. Tony wrote letters once per week, and he received six to ten letters every two months, depending on when the package from Gibraltar met them at Port Mahon. Harriet was in good health she wrote, and their two children were a joy to have. Harriet admitted to some difficulties with Emily. Apparently, the girl was developing into a headstrong person, and she would not always listen to Harriet's guidance. Little Richard was approaching his fourth birthday, and apparently he was busy digging up the plants in Nadine Blacket's herb garden, much to their housekeeper's dismay. Little Eleanor was a sunshine, giving the nurses no problems whatsoever. Tony was also informed of one important development. Isabella was carrying her first child. She had not been sure of it when the Clyde sailed from London, but now she was more than half way along. There would be an heir to the throne of Seitz-Bunau before long. In other news, Harriet recounted the visits they had received. Lucy had paid a weeklong visit in May, followed by Anita who took a break from her paramour to enjoy fresh air and sunshine. The private secretary of the King had also payed a brief visit. He had spoked Isabella for close to three hours, and neither had told Harriet of the topics. Harriet reported though that Isabella did not seem to be dismayed but rather showed amusement after the visitor had left again. They'd had a wet spring, but now the sun was making regular appearances assuring the tenants of a good rye and wheat harvest. Mr. Brown had indeed married Miss Holland, and the young Widow Pettigrew was living with them. With the help of Mr. Hogsbotham, the barrister, Catrina Pettigrew had secured her late husbands possessions from his cousin's clutches, and she was now courted by the new school teacher in Reading. Harriet was hoping for a successful outcome. Those letters gave Tony reassurance that his family and those dependent on him were indeed faring well. Surprisingly, his own reports had also found their way into the Naval Gazette. Harriet had sent the clippings along with her letters. According to Harriet's sources, the current draught in successful naval engagements and the stalemate in the Peninsular War had prompted the Admiralty to change their course, toting the captures made by Tony's small squadron as convincing sign that the French hold on Spain would soon crumble for want of supplies. So far the Spanish envoy had not caught up on their return, and according to Sir Richard Lambert the Foreign Ministry was not as concerned anymore. The Spanish insurgents on the Peninsula were an important factor in the war forcing the French to deploy the majority of their troops to secure their supply lines. However, what passed for regular Spanish troops was useless at best, and a hindrance for Wellesley's campaigns at worst. Thus, there was the realisation that an annoyed Spanish envoy was not a cause for worries. For Tony this meant that there might be hope for him to be allowed back home. On the other hand, their steady captures of French coasters might just prevent that. Right now, Clyde and her consorts were a thorn in the French side, and the Admiralty would be ill-advised to withdraw them. Also, the longer he was kept in his current rank as commodore, the less would be the chance of him being demoted back to captain. He was of a divided mind. On the one hand, this appointment was the best he could dream of. On the other hand, his chances of seeing his family anytime soon were close to nil. He knew of course that he had been lucky through the last years in that he had seen his wife with a frequency of which other captains could only dream. Nevertheless, he missed Harriet. Once again were they anchored in Port Mahon when the lookout sang out the arrival of a ship. It was a British ship, a frigate. When recognition signals were exchanged the newcomer turned out to be the Mersey, 32. He knew the ship of course as she had been part of Fanning's Irish Sea squadron. Her captain was unknown to Tony, one Captain Duncan, a Scotsman. Tony hosted him as soon as the Mersey had cast anchor, and he learned that the frigate would join his little squadron. Inwardly he sighed, taking this for a sign that the powers to be planned for him to continue in his tasks for quite a while longer. That evening he introduced Duncan to the other captains. His arrival changed the rankings within the squadron as Duncan was decidedly senior to Seitz-Bunau. He was a quiet man who seemed to do everything with moderation. He ate sparingly, he drank sparingly, he spoke sparingly. Yet, Mersey had shown to be well commanded when she cast anchor, and Duncan had two successful ship-to-ship engagements to his credit. There had to be more to him than met the eye. Tony filled him in on their next planned endeavours. Allowing for Mersey's arrival being unknown to the French, Tony planned a diversion. He would sail eastward with Clyde and the sloops, past the major ports. Seeing the British squadron disappear in eastward direction might just induce some of the French coasters lying under the protection of batteries to venture forth towards their destination. Mersey would follow the squadron with a half day delay to sweep up any such coasters. The plans were finalised and rendezvous points were agreed upon, and a day later the squadron set sail. Clyde and the sloops fanned out in their usual mode, and they sailed slowly along the Spanish coast line. Tony could see a number of vessels under the protection of batteries and in the small ports along the coast, and he hoped that some of them would end up as catches. There was no way to know whether their ruse was successful until they returned to Port Mahon a week later. There, lying in Mersey's vicinity were no fewer than four sail, two brigs and two schooners, flying British colours over French. A nice haul to be sure! Captain Duncan reported and it was clear that some captures had happened in sight of the land, making it unlikely that the ruse would work a second time. However, with two frigates and close to a hundred marines, Tony could now take small coastal towns in his sights. For a few days, the marines were drilled on the shore. Boat crews also received some drill, and then the four ships sailed for the next expedition. Their target was the small town of Orpesa, a hundred miles south of Tarragona. The coastal road was close to the beaches, and the town was mentioned in the reports as relay station for the French postal service. After two days of sailing the British ships approached the small town in the dark, guided by the luminescent breakers. With the first dawn, the boats of the squadron made a run for the beach carrying the marines and a landing party of one hundred sailors. Duncan was in charge, with Pickleberry as his second-in-command, and they deployed as planned. Not long after sunrise, the small town was taken. Most of the fifty or so French soldiers – or rather Italian soldiers for the French relied on their allies for the Peninsular War – were caught barely awake. More importantly, the mail relay was captured before the postmaster could destroy the mail bags. There was no loot to be found, but they blew up the small French garrison building and they destroyed the battery covering the small harbour. They also ferried the captured Italian soldiers out to the ships to collect head money later. Sweeping up the coast they captured two French transports that were returning from Malaga carrying French wounded. This would mean more head money, but Tony was unwilling to use wounded soldiers for monetary gain. He had the wounded men landed near Tarragona under flag of truce before he had the transports scuttled. Their crews were kept as prisoners. Continuing their cruise in northern direction along the coast they were sailing past a small fishing village, L'Escala, when the lookout suddenly sang out a "Ship ho!". It was a fishing boat, one of the bigger types and ketch-rigged, that came sailing out from the beach flying a red-and-gold Spanish flag. Clyde altered course to meet the small vessel while the drums rolled through the ship calling all hands to quarters. The vessel might be small but it could well be packed with enemies or even be a fireship. Seitz-Bunau was not taking chances with his precious frigate and Tony approved. The only thing he insisted on was to leave the day cabin untouched. He might have need for it to entertain visitors before long. It soon became clear that the Spanish ketch did not have hostile intentions. She hove-to at pistol shot distance and dropped her stern boat. Two men wearing officers' uniforms climbed into the boat and four oars quickly propelled the jolly boat across to Clyde's port. Tony recognised one of the uniforms as British, the other was Spanish. Was the deuce was a British officer doing north of Barcelona? The answer to that question was not immediately answered. With some effort, the two officers climbed up Clyde's side and approached the quarter deck. The British officer looked the worse for wear upon closer inspection, with his uniform coat badly torn and his boots showing the signs of wear. Nevertheless, he saluted the flag and Tony's broad pennant smartly before he lifted his battered hat. "Major Hubert Hastings, of the 29th Light Dragoons. With whom do I have the pleasure?" "Commodore Sir Anthony Carter, in command of this squadron. May I introduce Captain Sir August of Seitz-Bunau?" "Enchanted, Gentlemen! May I in turn present my ally, Colonel Don Pedro Claros of his Most Catholic Majesty's Army of Andalusia?" "It is a pleasure to meet you, Don Pedro!" Tony acknowledged the man. He was not overly impressed. A colonel of the militia was decidedly junior to him. "Can I entice you gentlemen to follow me to my cabin for a refreshment?" "You are too kind, Sir Anthony," Hastings answered. Tony led the procession aft to his day cabin where John Little had already seen to it that the table was prepared. Major Hastings preferred thin ale to Madeira wine, clearly anxious to quench his thirst. Indeed he emptied his mug in a single draught and sighed contentedly. "How I envy Navy officers!" he stated while the steward refilled the mug. "Always well provisioned, and even taking your own furniture along." His eyes fell on the portrait that adorned the bulkhead. "Lady Carter I presume?" "Indeed, Major. Yes, I agree. We do have a more reliable food source to compensate for other hardships. Is there anything I may assist you with for your endeavours?" Hastings smirked. "A speedy evacuation of my men would be welcome, Sir Anthony. I command the remnants of my regiment. We were separated from Sir Arthur's main force two months ago. Since then, we have tried to reach friendly soil, but we could not make it through the French lines. We are out of everything. We then learned that there was an open corridor to the east, and we hoped to reach the coast. Fortunately, Colonel Claros conveyed us to this small village, explaining that your flotilla frequently patrols the coast line to disrupt the French supplies. I will readily admit that I have never seen a more welcome sight than your sails." Tony looked up at Seitz-Bunau. "Captain, we had better hurry. May I trouble you to take steps towards the evacuation of the Major's men? Major, how many men are we speaking of?" With a sad smirk, the major answered. "Barely two-hundred. Our horses are long gone, too." "We had better signal the squadron then to ready the boats," Tony said rising. "Are there French troops in the vicinity?" "There were none as of this morning," Hastings answered. "Colonel Claros was so kind as to have his men attack a French outpost near Rosas. It would seem that the French marched in that direction, leaving L'Escala exposed." "Please let the Colonel know that we shall evacuate any of his friends who might feel threatened by the returning French," Tony said, not sure whether Claros understood him. Apparently he did. "That eez kind of you, Capitan, but not needed. We win or die here on Spanish soil." "Admirable, Colonel," Tony answered keeping his expression neutral. He suddenly remembered the name of Colonel Claros. "Let us move to evacuate your men then, Major." Claros' name had come up in the reports of the failed attempt on the Catalan port of Rosas earlier that year. Rear-Admiral Leighton with his squadron of three ships of the line had attempted to besiege the city together with Spanish militias. The attempt met with a disastrous failure, and Leighton almost lost his siege train when the Spanish allies commanded by General Rovira had turned tail in the face of a French counter attack. Tony had to make sure that he was not lured into a similarly harebrained action. Within ten minutes the first boats were heading towards the beach, Major Hastings and his ally in them. There was no battery to threaten them, and so the British ships sailed closer towards the shore, to ease the work for the boat crews but also to cover the embarkation with their heavy guns. Clyde in particular could deal punishing blows with her main deck 24-pounders. As they inched closer to the shore the first boats shoved off already. Cutter and longboats of the two frigates were already on their way back to the ships while the side boats were shoving off. Now the smaller boats of the two sloops reached the beach, and Tony watched as ragtag soldiers wearily stumbled over the gunwales. When the first boats made fast the crew stood ready to receive the worn out soldiers. The surgeon was standing by, too, and he had his plate full soon with wounded men, some of them with old, festering wounds. Watching the wounded come aboard Tony anticipated burials at sea in the next days. Tony also made plans for the next moves. There was no way he could land those soldiers in Port Mahon. The Spanish would not stand for it to have two hundred foreign soldiers when all the Spanish governor could boast of were a mere four hundred soldiers. Too fresh was the memory of the British occupation of Minorca which had ended only eight years ago. No, he had to take them to Gibraltar or even further north, to Portugal, where they could reunite with Wellesley's troops. This ran counter to his original orders but Tony decided those were outdated anyway. Once the British soldiers were on board the ships and resting, Tony summoned his captains. Thankfully, Claros had already escaped back into the mountains, but Major Hastings sat with them to discuss the best way to get him and his men back to where they were useful. This left Gibraltar out, as the garrison there would hardly profit from the presence of two hundred horseless dragoons. Wellesley had a major beach head in Porto, and that was where they would sail. Hastings then intimidated that Colonel Claros had over 2,000 irregulars under his command, and he could raise even more. What he and his men did not have were heavy guns and siege equipment. With just a few heavy guns and sufficient ammunition Claros would be able to take a major town, a port such as Rosas, a little to the north. Smiling, Tony pulled Leighton's report of the failed attack on Rosas and let the major read it. Red-faced, Hastings offered his apology. "I did not know of his history, Sir Anthony. I only know him as helpful and brave." "He may be all that, but we cannot succeed with two frigates where three ships of the line failed," Tony soothed the man's ego. Tony made note of all this information and included it into his report. Let the Admiralty and the War Office interpret it at their leisure! On the next morning the British ships sailed past Rosas, and Tony took bearings and compared the charts he had with what he could see of the town and its fortifications. Coming close, the French gunners tried their range but came short just a little. Those had to be 42-pounders, Tony decided, a fact he also entered into his report. Nothing more could be done, and Tony had the ships go about. The early autumn weather was calm, and the steady eastern wind from the Levante let the ships fly along the Spanish coast. It took them barely three days to reach the Strait. The Atlantic was another story entirely. Here the ships encountered the first gales of the autumn, and they had to claw their way up north and past Lisbon, until they finally reached the River Douro estuary. Officers and crews were relieved to slip into the protected river. The city had been destroyed when the French invaded Portugal for the second time, after Wellesley had been recalled. The damages were still visible, but there was a Union Jack flying over the fort guarding the harbour, and Tony could see a number of British transports lined up against the quays. The seasick soldiers were landed, and Major Hastings reported to one Major General Horton who was in command of the city. They were also conveniently able to land their prisoners and to deliver them into the custody of General Horton. The weatherbeaten ships had a chance to effect hurried repairs while the officers were invited to a series of dinners on shore. A mail package was ready for sailing, allowing Tony to send his reports back to London. He had no great successes to report this time, but he thought that the intelligence he had gathered might be useful for their Lordships. Then, three days after entering Porto, the squadron weighed anchor again to return to their station off the southern Spanish coast. The voyage back to Port Mahon was mostly uneventful. The winds over the Atlantic had moderated considerably, and once past Gibraltar the Mediterranean Sea showed itself from its most peaceful side. Sweeping the Spanish coastline they did not encounter any French sails. Sailing into Port Mahon, however, they found a frigate of the Mediterranean Fleet anchored, the Cassandra, 36. Immediately, she sent up flags to signal that she carried urgent dispatches. Literally minutes later Cassandra's Captain was sitting in Clyde's cabin handing Tony a set of orders from Sir Charles Cotton, his old chief and the new Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. While Captain Cooke partook of the refreshment offered, Tony quickly read the orders. He whistled softly. Apparently, one of Admiral Leighton's ships, the Sutherland, 74, had encountered four French sails of the line that had escaped from Toulon. Shadowing them for a day the Sutherland finally sighted the rest of Leighton's squadron which comprised the second rate Pluto, 90, and the Caligula, 74. Unfortunately, Leighton was too far away to assist the Sutherland when the French ships turned on her in their attempt to reach the Bay of Rosas and the protection of the citadel's big guns. Sutherland took on the fight against more than fourfold superiority and managed to cripple at least three of her opponents. That was an incredible feat by captain and crew, Tony marvelled. In the end the Sutherland was reduced to a battered wreck and had to strike while the French ships reached Rosas under the eyes of the hapless Leighton. Cotton's orders for Tony were to rendezvous with a small force under Rear-Admiral Martin that was to destroy the damaged French ships. He was to find as many small vessels as possible for use as fireships, for that was how the anchored French ships would be attacked. They took water and provisions in a great hurry, and on the next morning Tony's small squadron left Port Mahon again and sailed straight for the Spanish coast. For two weeks they swept the northern Spanish coast until they had captured or cut out five brigs and ketches. It helped that they knew their patrol area intimately by now, for they had marked places where small ships sought refuge. They also raided a small port where they were able to obtain turpentine and tar in quantities to make proper fireships of their prizes. They were none too early when they arrived at the rendezvous, twenty miles off the Bay of Rosas. Admiral Martin was there, having hoisted his flag in the Repulse, 74, and there were Pluto and Caligula, 74, and two more sails of the line, Rodney and Achilles, both 74s, to carry the first wave of the attack. As soon as Tony's squadron fell in with the other ships, Martin called all captains for a council of war. Admiral Sir Byam Martin was an energetic man much after Tony's liking. He quickly outlined his plan for attack. The big ships would sail into the bay three nights hence when there would be a new moon and engage the citadel and the anchored ships. In the confusion this would create, the frigates Clyde and Mersey would then sail into the bay and destroy any watch ships and guard boats while the fireships would follow in their wake to launch the main attack. Tony caught a glimpse of Admiral Leighton who was swallowing heavily. Tony could understand that. His was the most dangerous part of the entire operation. Yet, from what innuendoes he overheard, it was the only way for Leighton to regain some of his damaged reputation. He had bungled the attack on Rosas, had almost lost his flagship in a summer storm, and he had lost one of his ships-of-the-line, the first such loss since 1801. Captain Cooke had referred to him as "Admiral Late-on-the-scene" – a play on his name – and intimidated that he had lost valuable time when trying to come to Sutherland's aid. Tony knew that the cruel service would never forget or forgive that. His own role was laden with perils, too. As soon as Clyde and Mersey would fire their guns and thus reveal their location, the gunners in the citadel might decide to switch their aim, and neither frigate was built to endure the fire of 42-pounders. Yet, Martin's plan was well thought-out. Thomas Cochrane had wreaked havoc on the French at Rochefort in the year before bringing fireships to bear on their anchored ships, and the same would work well on the badly damaged anchored Frenchmen in Rosas. More details were settled, and officers and crews were allocated for the various detached duties such as manning the fire ships. Seitz-Bunau volunteered to command the fireships but Martin declined, explaining that Commander Burroughs was already earmarked for this duty as he had previously commanded a fireship in an attack on Brest in '03. Tony suspected that Martin was leery to report the loss of King George's grandnephew, but Burroughs was a good choice. Pickleberry was clearly disappointed over Martin's choice, but again Tony could understand. To sail fireships into an enemy harbour took daring but also judicious timing. A hothead could jeopardise the entire operation, and the fireships were critical to achieve complete destruction of the French flotilla. Admiral Martin ended the council by toasting the Sutherland's Captain Hornblower for his daring. The French Admiral Cosmao had been courteous enough to convey the news that Hornblower had survived the pitched battle unharmed and that he was being treated with all the respect due. The next two days were spent in preparations. Tony had the frigates haul down their upper works to reduce their visibility and to limit any damage due to gun fire. Clyde contributed the crew for one of the fireships, and Tony saw to it that they had practice sailing the small, two-masted ketch. The master's mate in charge was eager for this chance to distinguish himself, and Tony sincerely hoped that they would be able to pick up the crews after the action. On the evening of the second day the ships squared away and headed for the coast. The wind had been steady for days, and the Pluto as the lead ship timed their approach for the planned attack after midnight. In the moonless night, they took pains to sail in close formation so as not to lose contact. Finally, Tony could make out the dark line of the coast looming ahead. It was time. "Captain, may I trouble you to have your ship cleared for action?" he asked Seitz-Bunau with assumed casualness. "Aye-aye, Sir Anthony," came the reply from the dark. The orders were replayed by word of mouth as planned, and Tony watched as the men stumbled through the darkness to ready Clyde for the coming battle. The dice was cast and in an hour they would be in the thick of fighting. ------- Chapter 30: The Final Battle In the moonless night, the first broadside fired by HMS Pluto blinded them temporarily. The big three-decker was abeam to the French lead ship, and for the surprised French the impact would be nothing else but devastating. Now, Caligula opened fire, a crashing broadside with lowered muzzles. Captain Bolton was a simple man but a dyed in the wool sailor who could be trusted to make the most of his first broadside. A second thundering broadside came from the Pluto and in the muzzle flash of over forty guns Tony saw the second French two-decker keel over under the impact. Caligula's second broadside roared out before Rodney joined the action, firing into the Turenne, the single French ship that still carried all her masts. A first shot roared out from the citadel, but in Tony's opinion the fire from the citadel was more than useless as the British ships were close enough to the anchored French battleships to be almost shielded against the shots from land. If anything, the big 42-pounders would wreak havoc among their own ships. Achilles and Repulse were now engaging the French, too, firing into the hapless and already heavily damaged ships. It was time now for the coup de grace. Tony turned. "Signal lieutenant! Hoist two red lanterns abaft! Sir August, kindly square away for the French line." In response, two lanterns were hoisted up the mizzen mast, the signal for the fireships to follow. In the darkness, Tony could barely make out the shape of the small vessels in their wake as they sailed towards the line of anchored ships. There! A dark shadow loomed perhaps two points ahead and to starboard. A watch ship of sorts. Seitz-Bunau was ready, turning the Clyde slightly to port. "Permission to open fire, Sir Anthony?" he asked with assumed calmness. "At your leisure, Captain," came Tony's equally casual reply. Seitz-Bunau's battery pipe shrilled, and two seconds later Clyde's starboard broadside roared out. The small vessel was almost torn to shreds when the storm of iron reached it. Behind them, Mersey fired to port, obviously aiming at another watch boat. They sailed on, past the already sinking guard ship, and towards the anchored French flagship. Tony turned to the signal lieutenant. "Hoist the third red lantern, if you please!" That was the signal for the fireship captains to pick their targets. Burroughs could be trusted to pick the Turenne as his prime target as she was the only seaworthy ship at anchor. By this time, the French were finally returning the fire of the British battleships, but their fire was sporadic. Tony suspected that a great number of guns had been disabled in the first broadsides, and to ready a ship for action whilst already under fire required a discipline which the barely trained French sailors could not have acquired yet. They were about to cross the bow of the French lead ship. Tony gave a nod to Seitz-Bunau in response to his silent request. Seitz-Bunau picked up a speaking trumpet. "Mr. Trent! We're crossing her bows. Passing honours!" Seitz-Bunau even had the topsails backed to slow them down, and the port side battery discharged gun after gun as they passed the looming two-decker's bows. Almost last came the huge 68-pounder carronade mounted on the quarterdeck. In the flicker of the blue lights that were burnt Tony could see the huge ball as it hit the bows right on the waterline. A crippling hit! Clyde was turning already whilst Mersey took a turn firing into the French two-decker as well. Now it was the time for the fireships. Burroughs' brig had been sailing in Mersey's wake, but she had turned to port already. Once steady on her new course, Tony could see the red glow in the brig's waist. Seconds later a boat cast off from her side, just as the first bright flames burst up. The big ships had seized fire, and in the ensuing silence the cries of alarm could be heard in the French ships. Unfortunately, the second fireship was slow to follow and already going off course as its crew bailed out prematurely. Burrough's vessel, however, was aimed perfectly. Just as the fire reached the rigging and sails, the burning ship bumped against the Turenne. Within seconds, the flames danced up the Frenchman's rigging. Over the desperate cries Tony heard the sound of axes. Of course, the other captains were cutting their anchors to escape the menace of the fireships. One by one the four other fireships drifted towards the French line. Except for the Turenne which was already engulfed in bright flames the French ships had cut their cables and were drifting towards land. With long spars their crews tried to keep off the fireships, holding them at a distance with desperate efforts. It seemed to work mostly, but then the night was shattered by the explosion of the Turenne. Her magazines must have caught, and she went up like a volcano, spewing flaming timbers for a cable length around. Small fires showed on the other ships, but somehow their crews were able to put them out. Tony tore himself loose from the sight. "Captain, kindly see to picking up the fireship crews." Slowly, Clyde and Mersey made their way out of the bay, picking up three crews. In the backdrop, a second large fire was seen: it was the Sutherland which was burning, set ablaze by a different boat crew so as not to leave her to the French. From what Tony could see the well planned action was a full success. ------- Hove-to just out of the French guns' range, Clyde was sailing past the Bay of Rosas. Two captains were sitting in the crow's nest with their telescopes and scanning the anchorage. The Turenne was gone entirely, blown to smithereens in the explosion of her magazine, and the remnants of the Sutherland could barely be made out. The French flagship, the Ville de Bordeaux, was grounded under the citadel on rocky shore. There was no way to salvage that one, Tony decided with satisfaction. The Meduse, 80, had also run aground on a sand spit and it was clear that her back was broken during the low tide. The Didon, 74, was aground on a sandy stretch, and she might be salvaged, but only with a dry dock close which Rosas could not boast. Tony nodded to himself. The Royal Navy could save any efforts to keep watch over those French ships. Later on that day the captains assembled in the Rodney for a debriefing. Tony let Seitz-Bunau report their observation and leaned back instead, watching the other officers. Leighton was missing. He had been gored by a wood splinter when a shot from the French had hit a side boat. Captain Elliot of the Pluto had a few things to explain, in particular why he had his side boats in the davits whilst sailing into action. Rear-Admiral Martin was all kindness, though. He thanked all the officers for their contribution to their success, and he toasted to the recovery of Admiral Leighton to which they all drank. It was less a debriefing but a subdued celebration of sorts. Tony assumed that Pluto with her wounded admiral would sail for Gibraltar and that Caligula would follow, seeing that the squadron was an admiral and a ship short of her complement. However, Admiral Martin held a surprise up his sleeve. "Sir Anthony, I must ask you to fill in for Sir Percy Leighton. Of course, it will be for Sir Charles Cotton to make the decision, but in the meantime I would ask you to shift your pennant to Pluto and combine the two squadrons under your command. Sir Percy should be conveyed to the Gibraltar lazaretto with utmost expedience. I suppose that Clyde would be best suited for that purpose?" Tony swallowed briefly. That was unexpected. Getting over his surprise, he appreciated the idea though. Rather than having two ships of the line lay idle waiting for the recovery or succession of Admiral Leighton, the combined squadron could be used effectively against the French supply lines. Besides, Captain Elliot of the Pluto was indeed three months Tony's junior in captain's rank. It was something that happened to Tony with increasing frequency that he found himself senior to other captains. "Any particular tasks to be performed, Sir Byam?" he asked matter-of-factly. "Just keep the Frogs on their toes," Martin grinned. "Any orders from Sir Charles will be sent to Port Mahon. It would be advisable to call there once in a while." "Aye-aye, Sir." That was it. After a brief discussion with Seitz-Bunau, Tony had himself rowed to the Pluto. Leighton's day cabin was testimony to his tastes or the lack thereof. There was a lot of gilding and massive silver involved, and a large painting of Lady Barbara Leighton dominated one side of the cabin. Sir Percy's steward intimidated that Sir Percy had only recently married. All of the wounded admiral's personal possessions were hurriedly put into crates and shifted over to Clyde. On the return trips, Tony's own, far more spartan furnishings made their way over to Pluto where John Little saw to the proper distribution. Then there was the moment when the unconscious Leighton, lashed tightly to a transport plank, was swayed into a waiting longboat and his flag was lowered. As the longboat made its way over to the Clyde, Tony's own broad pennant was hoisted to a six-gun salute. The transfer of command was official. Not quite an hour later, Clyde under her full sails raced away on a southern course. Tony watched her with dismay. She was the finest ship he had ever commanded, and chances were he would not sail in her again. By contrast, Pluto was a behemoth. She was not quite the size of the Royal Sovereign but close. Tony was under no illusions that his command of the combined squadron would last longer than it took for the reports to reach London and for a rear-admiral to reach the Mediterranean Sea. Yet, he was determined to make the most of this transient command. After all, it might be his only chance ever to lord it over a squadron this size. Once Clyde was hull under, Tony snapped his telescope shut. His eyes sought out a midshipman. "My compliments to Captain Elliot, and will he see me in my cabin!" he ordered curtly before stalking down the companionway to the upper gun deck where his cabin lay. Elliot came not two minutes later. "You called for me, Sir Anthony?" "Indeed, Captain. Have a seat please, and kindly fill me in on the current shape of your ship. What damage did you sustain and how are we provisioned?" "Hr-hm, Sir Anthony. I should need to consult with the carpenter and the purser first to answer such questions..." His voice tapered off when he saw Tony's raised eyebrows. "Perhaps, Captain, you can join me for a lunch in two hours? That should give you ample time to collect the information I shall need. From this day onward, however, I expect my captain to have such information ready at all times." Like a beaten dog, Elliot withdrew. Tony had to shake his head. Elliot was somehow related to Leighton, and it was obvious that he had not received his posting based on his merits. Then he shrugged. He had to make do with him. Whilst Rear-Admiral Martin with his three sails of the line and the Cassandra sailed northward to re-join Sir Charles Cotton's Mediterranean Fleet, Tony ordered his squadron to square away on a southern course. He had the smaller ships fan out to either side of the two ships of the line to sweep the coast line in their usual fashion whilst he prepared for the second interview with his new flag captain. ------- For once, the Mediterranean Sea showed its unpleasant face. A heavy winter storm was whipping up the waters in the Gulf du Lion, and HMS Pluto was wallowing in the short waves. Top heavy as Pluto was she was a terrible sailor. The British-built second rates were infamous for their horrible sailing, and Tony's flagship was a shining example example. Clyde had returned from Gibraltar with the sad news that Admiral Leighton had succumbed to his woulds not two days after their arrival. He would be conveyed to London for burial whilst Clyde provisioned and returned to the squadron before anybody could give her captain different orders. Tony was sorely tempted to shift his pennant back to her, but it had become clear to him that Captain Elliot needed close supervision. He was not entire sure to what extent the late Admiral Leighton's lacklustre reputation was owed to his flag captain's performance. In his report to Sir Charles Cotton, Tony had given veiled reference to his captain's shortcomings, but he did not expect anybody to react to a mere commodore's complaints. They made little progress on their northern course against the north-eastern gale since Pluto drifted worse than a haystack. It was a complete nonsense, Tony decided, to detach a three-decker to cruiser warfare. It was probably owed to the late Admiral Leighton's vanity. His father was a London Alderman who wielded influence, and Sir Percy had obviously thought a mere 74 as below his dignity as a freshly minted rear-admiral. In this weather they could not venture close to the coast. Pluto had almost capsized once in a gale a year before, losing all her masts and being lucky that Captain Hornblower in the Sutherland had been sailor enough to tow the damaged three-decker to safety. Thus, they kept to the open sea whilst the smaller ships were fanned out in their usual fashion. Not that anybody expected French ships under these conditions. If they knew their business they were holed up in some secure port waiting out the bad weather. Tony decided to follow the same wisdom. "Captain Elliot, kindly have the ship wear about. Course south. We're sailing for Port Mahon. Signal lieutenant! 'Commodore to squadron: course south, destination Port Mahon. Form line ahead.' See that every ship affirms!" With the wind from their quarter Pluto would make at least some speed. It was a small consolation for a man used to sail seaworthy ships. Ponderously, Pluto turned. Elliot's timing was not the best for a big roller hit the ship's bows and almost stalled her in stays. Fortunately, the momentum of almost 3,000 tons carried her through the turn, and then they were on their new course under doubly reefed topsails. The roughly 150 leagues to Port Mahon should take them little more than a day and a night, Tony guessed, and he was looking forward to having a proper dinner on shore. Over the next 24 hours the gale did not abate. The fires were out in the ships, and the officers and men were getting weary of cold food and cold drink in cold weather. The small inlet into the harbour of Mahón was a welcome sight, and once inside, the calmer water was a reprieve. An unknown Navy sloop was at anchor in the harbour. It was flying an admiral's flag, and Tony knew immediately what this entailed. To his surprise he felt nothing but relief. Let somebody else worry about the elephantine three-decker and her simple-minded captain. Let somebody else deal with the infernal winter gales. When flag signal called him over to the sloop, he was already wearing his Nº2 uniform, and his steward was busy to pack his belongings. The barge carried him over to the sloop, and a fresh faced commander met him at the port. "Commander Barlow, Sir Anthony. Sir Edward is waiting for you." Thus forewarned, Tony took the sight of Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Fanning with equanimity. His former captain and commodore grinned at him. "Welcome to Port Mahon, Tony," he grinned. "I came to relieve you of the command over your squadron. Somebody high up thinks you are too junior." Tony had to smile. "You are welcome to the command, Sir Edward. It is something I expected. What are my orders?" "Much as I would like to keep you as my flag captain, I fear that you are too senior for that by now. Their Lordships wish for you to return to England." Tony's smile was too open to be overlooked. "I take it that you look forward to seeing your lovely wife? She assured me that she, too, is looking forward to having you back." "Then, Sir Edward, you are double welcome to the command," Tony answered, indeed grinning like a school boy. "I would like to invite you to a refreshment, but this nutshell is not quite equipped for grand invitations. You will sail back to England in the Clyde. They want your princeling back in London. King George was declared insane, and a Regency will be established. The new Prince Regent wishes for his cousin to attend to the ceremonies." "His wife will be delighted, Sir Edward," Tony answered with another grin. "I am certain she will. We met her at your wife's house. Now, how long will you need to shift your dunnage to Clyde?" "Two hours at most, Sir Edward. My steward is already packing." "You are in a hurry. Is there something about Pluto about which you want to enlighten me?" "She's a lousy sailor, and frankly, commanded by a captain I would never pick given the chance." "How is Captain Bolton then?" Fanning asked bluntly. "A tar if ever there was one, but a very good sailor and disciplinarian." "Good. I shall hoist my flag in Caligula. I have orders for Pluto to join the main fleet off Toulon. Cotton will give me the Achilles in return, so I'll have seaworthy ships. Your reports more than hinted at Elliot's shortcomings. They'll have him replaced in a few months. How about I'll hoist my flag tomorrow? Gives you the time to shift back into Clyde and gives Bolton time to prepare the cabins and such. I'll come over to Clyde this evening, and you can fill me in on all the details that never make it into the reports." "That would fit me admirably, Sir Edward. Say, four bells on the First Dog Watch?" "Perfect. I shall be there. Now, if you will excuse me, I must ask Captains Elliot and Bolton for a visit to break the news to them." ------- Dinner in the Clyde's cabin that evening was a pleasant affair. It included Fanning, Seitz-Bunau, and Tony. They were free to speak their minds for once, and they talked until the wee hours. Tony and his young captain learned that the Spanish Envoy had lodged a much belated protest over the "corruption of a Royal Princess" and the "betrayal of trust" committed by "Commodore Sir Anthony Carter and his scheming wife", but the new Foreign Secretary The Marquess Wellesley had countered by having a copy of the declaration by the Viceroy of Panama sent to His Excellency with the promise to send others copies to Fleet Street should His Excellency insist on pursuing the affair. That had effectively silenced the envoy. Tony felt only small relief as the affair was already too dated to constitute any form of peril for him. Seitz-Bunau just nodded with satisfaction. Tony also learned that Lady Colton had indeed married the young Mr. Pennington and shifted her residence to London where her new husband sat in Parliament. In turn, Tony informed Fanning of the loss of young Mr. O'Shaunessy to which the admiral sadly shook his head. Fanning then intimidated that Tony could not expect a speedy re-appointment. The sentiment at the Admiralty seemed to be that with his successful appointments as commodore he could not return to a single ship command. Captain of the Fleet would be a fitting appointment, but there were little such posts available and even less that were not spoken for by the relatives of the admirals in question. When they finally broke up their company, Tony turned in with the knowledge that his affairs were quite in order, and that he would return to England to enjoy a period of idleness. ------- The gale was still in full force when Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Fanning's flag was hoisted over HMS Caligula and the eight-gun salutes roared over the harbour. Sir Edward hosted a dinner afterwards in the Caligula and Tony had a chance to wish his former captains good luck. There was another surprise waiting, for Commander Burroughs was now sporting his epaulette on his right shoulder. In recognition of his expert handling of the fireships at Rosas, he had been posted captain two months ago. He was still in command of the Kite for the time being, but a third lieutenant had been added to her wardroom making her fit for a post-captain. Pickleberry was hard pressed not to show his anger as he would be junior to Burroughs for the rest of his life. They waited in Port Mahon for another two days for the gale to abate before Clyde finally put to sea. For once free of accompanying ships, Seitz-Bunau let the frigate fly. Within two days they reached the Straits, and barely two more days later they cleared Cape Finisterre. In total, it took them a mere eight days before they sailed past Gosport Hart and into Portsmouth Harbour. The English January weather greeted them with freezing temperatures, covering the standing rigging with ice and forcing the crew into the masts to keep the running rigging workable. The moderate eastern wind, cold as it was, helped them to an easy sailing entering Portsmouth. The harbour was chock-full with shipping but with the help of the pilot they found an anchorage two cable lengths from the shore. The crew still had the prize money of the last year coming and two cable lengths of icy water were sufficient deterrent for would-be deserters, but Seitz-Bunau had marines posted at the ship's side as a precaution. Rear-Admiral Martin had given Seitz-Bunau full command of the Clyde when Tony shifted to Pluto and thus Tony could leave the paying off and other issues to his young captain. They both reported to the harbour admiral, and on the next morning Tony climbed into a post-chaise bound for London, taking John Little along and leaving his steward in charge of his personal belongings. It a miserably cold journey, making the passengers eagerly await the relay stations where the horses were changed and hot tea was served. In the end they arrived with darkness setting over London, and Tony hired a cab to bring them to Camden Court, hoping that Harriet had not yet moved back to High Matcham. The brightly lit windows told him everything he needed. He alighted from the cab and payed the driver to bring John Little home to his family as well. The driver and Little carried what baggage he had to the door and then Tony rapped the door with his sword hilt. An unknown footman offered who did not even recognise his master and stood silently, obviously waiting for a statement from the strange officer. When none came, the man raised his eyebrow. "Whom may I announce, Sir?" "Captain Sir Anthony Carter, owner of this house. Have my baggage brought in. Who are you?" "W-Wilson, Sir Anthony. Forgive me, Sir. I am new to the household." "There's a bloody portrait of me in the dinner hall," Tony joked good-naturedly. "Now run and let her ladyship know I am returned." A maid appeared, obviously having overheard the conversation, and she took Tony's greatcoat, his gloves and his hat for drying and cleaning, while the footman hurried upstairs. Tony looked about. The house was still the same, but when he looked into the hall mirror he saw that he himself had changed. He was no young man anymore. There was grey hair at his temples and his eyes looked tired and aged. "TONY!!!!" Harriet's jubilant cry made him jerk around. She was already running down the stairs and he barely had the time to open his arms before she flung herself into his embrace. "Oh, my darling man, you are finally back! How I missed you, how I waited for you to return! Tell me, are you unharmed? Are you in good health?" "Yes, to all of those, and yes, I too missed you terribly!" Tony managed to croak while his throat was strangely constricted. He held her at arms length. "By Jove, you are as beautiful as ever!" Harriet's laughing eyes made short work of the depression he had felt only seconds ago. "And you are still my dashing hero!" she beamed. "You must be frozen travelling in this weather! Come, I shall have a hot bath prepared immediately. Bennings!" The latter exclamation brought forth a stiff looking butler whom Tony did not know either. "Anthony, this is Bennings. I hired him to keep this house. Nadine minds the kitchen, but this house is too big for her to keep up, and we need her cooking more than anything." "Welcome home, Sir Anthony," Bennings said without showing any outward emotion. "Thank you, Bennings. I trust we shall get to know each other fairly well in the near future." Bennings bowed silently but with the grace and form of a true butler. "Bennings, have a bath let for Sir Anthony in the dressing room." "Will Sir Anthony share your bedroom, milady?" The question made Tony start at first, but then he relaxed. The man Bennings had no way of knowing the state of their marriage. There was laughter in Harriet's voice when she answered. "Oh yes, he will. Have the bath readied in our dressing room." "Very well, milady," Bennings answered unperturbed, bowing briefly and retreating towards the stairs. Harriet dragged Tony to the back of the house and into the kitchen where Nadine Blacket, still pretty, still petite, was busy tasting a sauce. "Nadine, look who just arrived!" Harriet exclaimed. "Mon dieu!" his faithful housekeeper exclaimed. "Welcome home, Sir Anthony. Will you stay longer?" Looking at Harriet rather than Nadine, Tony answered with conviction. "I am here to stay." ------- The bath had warmed him up, and the delicious supper had added to his comfort. He was sitting across from Harriet, holding a red-headed little girl on his knees while a young boy eyed him with a certain distrust. Richard had not seen him in two years, Tony reasoned, and he would have to make an effort to get to know his son again. Little Eleanor was easy by contrast, sitting on his lap and fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. Emily had shown only briefly and curtseyed before him before she had returned to her room. Harriet had sighed and explained that the girl was being difficult and stubborn. Tony made a note to take some time in the next days to speak to Emily and to find out what issues she might have. The excellent Madeira he'd had with the supper was making itself felt by now, and the exhaustion stemming from the last days and weeks caught up with Tony. He had to blink his eyes a few times to stay awake, and Harriet noticed. In a few moments the children were heading upstairs and Harriet led her tired husband to their room. There she helped him undress and brought him a fresh nightshirt. He never noticed Harriet coming to bed, but he woke up briefly during the night to find his head resting in her lap while slept with her upper body propped up with cushions and with her hands still resting on his head. He felt wonderfully content and fell back asleep in seconds, and he never woke before the first light filtered through the heavy curtains. His bladder fit to burst he freed himself from Harriet's gentle embrace and found the privy adjoining the dressing room. Using the water basin on the wash stand he soaked the sleep out of his eyes before he returned to their bedroom. Harriet was lying on their bed wearing an inviting smile on her lips and nothing else. In a flash he was hovering over her, his mouth tasting her body, his fingers feeling her soft skin, and then his eyes locked into Harriet's green eyes. "You are so beautiful!" he exclaimed. With deft hands, Harriet found his stiff member and directed it to where it belonged. Their coupling was forceful, almost violent, but that was what they both needed. It did not take long for them to reach their peaks and afterwards Harriet caressed his face with her soft hands. "I love you, Tony! I love you so much that your absence causes me pain. Tell me you will stay for a while!" Stroking her cheek, he lowered his lips to her right ear. "I am back now, and I cannot see myself leaving again. Now is the time for me to take a long leave, and if that is not granted I shall resign from the service." "Are you serious, Tony?" "Dead serious. I want the battle at Rosas to be my last. I want to win back Richard's trust and love, I want to watch little Eleanor grow up, and I want to find out what may ail Emily. Most of all, I want to wake up with your face before me every morning from this day onward." Harriet beamed at him. "After breakfast you can go over to the Admiralty and clear things up. Let us get things settled so we may build our life together." ------- Tony had to wait for a half hour in the anteroom of the secretary before he was ushered in. The new secretary, Mr. John Wilson Croker, was a young man of just thirty years and well known for his organisational skills. He put the official reports to the side, explaining that he would study them later. Folding his hands, he appraised Tony. "I hear only good things about your service, Sir Anthony. We are grateful for your willingness to step in for poor Admiral Leighton, and your service prior to the Battle of Rosas does you credit. We are faced with a dilemma, however. You have been in independent command for almost two years, and you have shown yourself equal to it, too. Unfortunately, as you will appreciate, the openings for commodores are rare enough. On the other hand, nobody would want you in a subordinate position now that you have proven yourself as gifted commanding officer." "In other words, Sir, there will be no employment for me until I will receive my flag?" Tony asked bluntly but not unfriendly. "Not that, my dear Sir Anthony. I am quite optimistic that an opening, say as Captain of the Fleet, may arise for which you would be supremely qualified. I must ask your patience, though, for such positions do not open up with regularity." Tony nodded. "I shall be patient until such time when an appropriate posting is open. I may add that I have spent the sum total of eight months on shore since I joined the Navy in '97. I shall enjoy the time on shore as a welcome change." "Eight months in almost fourteen years, Sir Anthony? Good Gracious! Your poor wife! Although I saw that she frequently had the chance to accompany you." "We seemed to be lucky in that regard, Sir." "Quite so! Nevertheless, I shall make it my task to find a task for you that will not separate you from your family anytime soon. You will keep your current rank as commodore first class and your uniform, of course." "Thank you, Sir. You are indeed very kind." "Say nothing, my dear Sir Anthony. I shall keep your future in mind, but for now I wish you a pleasant stay. Perhaps we could tempt you to run for Parliament? A proven officer of your reputation could add weight to the debates." "I shall consider it, Sir," Tony answered evasively. Running for parliament was not high on his lists of priority. "You do that, Sir Anthony. Again, it is a pleasure to have made your acquaintance. Kindly give my respectful greetings to the Lady Carter." "Thank you again, Sir," Tony answered nicely before he was ushered back out. It was still cold outside, but the sky was clear and the sun warmed him up. He leisurely walked to where his coach was waiting. He would have to speak his prize agent, and then he would have to find good investments for his wealth. Not the worst problem to have, he conceded with a smug smile. He was wealthy and well-respected, he had a wonderful and loving wife, he had healthy children, and now he would have the time to enjoy all of that. Yes, he could count himself a lucky man. For a moment, he remembered all the men who had crossed his path and who had not been as fortunate, and he felt almost guilty. As he was about to climb in his coach, a one-legged veteran limped forward to help him with his great coat. Tony turned to give the man a few pennies, but then he blinked. He knew the man. His threadbare coat showed that he must have been a sailor. "What's your name, my man?" Tony asked. "I believe I've known you." "Polk, Sir, quartermaster in the old Royal Sovereign, Sir. I've know ye, Sir, when you was commanding her." "You let me try her steering. Where'd you lose your leg, Polk?" "Trafalgar, Sir. Same ball that killed Mr. Chalmer smashed my leg." "Don't you receive a pension, Polk?" "I do, Sir, but, begging your pardon, it's not enough, Sir, not with the three children and my wife." Suddenly, Tony knew he had to do something. That man had been crippled only three feet away from where he himself had stood on the Royal Sovereign's quarterdeck. "Can't you find work then?" "I had work, but they let me go when a man with two legs showed." Tony nodded to himself. From his wallet, he pulled two pound notes. "Listen, Polk: here's what you'll do. Take those two pounds and find yourself a clean coat and shirt, and better breeches and shoes. Tomorrow morning, show at Nº12, Camden Court. I may have need for a proper doorman. I also have a country seat in Berkshire, and there's a gatekeeper's lodge that's looking for a gatekeeper. Think you are up for that?" The man stared at Tony, seemingly stunned. "You'll give me work, Sir?" "I believe I do. Can you stay away from spirits?" The man made a face. "All my money goes to my wife, for feeding us and paying rent, Sir." "Very well then. Find yourself proper clothes and show up for work tomorrow. Once we move out to our country home, you can take your family along. The lodge is large enough." The man heaved a great big sigh. "Thank you, Sir, and may God bless you." "My good man, I already feel blessed," Tony responded with a smile, finally climbing into the coach. As the coach rumpled towards their city house, Tony found himself whistling. Now he felt much better. He had to see whether other veterans could replace some of the fat manservants they employed. Harriet would not mind it, he was sure, and John Little would easily keep up the discipline. Yes, he would have to ask Little to join the household. Perhaps, he could be responsible for the upkeep of the city house. With Ines working for Elisabeth Wilson, he would be happy to finally have a steady position in London. Sighing contently, he leaned into the cushions. His new life was shaping up, and he intended to enjoy it. For now, he planned to take Harriet out to dine. It was time to give her the attention she deserved. It was time to start married life for real. The thought of Harriet filled him with warmth. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2005-03-19 Last Modified: 2011-05-03 / 09:56:56 am Version: 2.00 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------