Rough Waters

Book 2 in the

Anthony Carter Sea Adventures

Peter Argonis

©2009, 2024

All Rights Reserved by the Author

5th Edition

Summary

Anthony Carter is back! Now a senior captain and married to Harriet, he faces challenges in his professional and private live, encountering Caribbean pirates, pompous colonial officers, Irish traitors, French soldiers, a lunatic admiral, and a pitched naval battle in the Bay of Biscay. In all this, he and Harriet must realise that married life is no endless honeymoon. Rough waters indeed.

Contents

Summary

Chapter 1 — The Belle Isle

Chapter 2 — Bridgetown

Chapter 3 — A Handsome Apology

Chapter 4 — Waking Up

Chapter 5 — A Case of High Treason

Chapter 6 — Campaigning for Justice

Chapter 7 — Captain Trilby

Chapter 8 — A Wild Ride

Chapter 9 — The Unlamented Chevalier

Chapter 10 — Corsairs

Chapter 11 — The Fall of Lisbon

Chapter 12 — Sir Winston Keller

Chapter 13 — Uriah the Hittite

Chapter 14 — Leaving the Shadow

Chapter 15 — Bearding the French

Chapter 16 — A Ghost from the Past

Chapter 17 — Peace?

Chapter 18 — Mondego Bay

Chapter 19 — Captain Margaret Maynard

Chapter 20 — Heavy Weather

Chapter 21 — Little Eleanor

Chapter 22 — The Nature of Valour

Chapter 23 — Winter Storms

Acknowledgements

Appendix 1: Sailplan of full-rigged ship

Appendix 2: Ranks in the Royal Navy

Appendix 3: Structure of the Royal Navy ca. 1800

Appendix 5: Watches and times

Appendix 6: Gun salutes

Appendix 7: Nautical terms

Appendix 8: The Articles of War of 1757

Chapter 1 — The Belle Isle

March 1806

Harriet Carter watched her husband giving orders to his officers on the quarterdeck of HMS Asia, an 80-gun ship of the line. She felt pride when she saw the attention he received from those experienced men. Nine years ago, when she was a girl of sixteen, the maturity and competence of then eighteen year-old Anthony Carter had impressed her and had made her rethink her prejudice against the young man. Nine years, and what a change they had brought. Anthony Carter was a senior captain now and a Knight of the Bath.

Most important in her thinking, he was her husband. Harriet’s heart swelled when she thought about their first weeks of 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 propriety to the wind, just to show his love. Yes, Harriet Carter considered herself a lucky woman, even though many acquaintances thought him a mere upstart of dubious background.

The wind showed signs of strengthening, whipping the heavy skirt around her legs. She did not care. The skirts she wore were made for windy conditions, this one in fact was made from suede leather and not likely to be blown up in any wind short of gale strength. The admiral’s wife, 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 Rear Admiral Sir Pierce Fallon, and had decided to join him at his new command in Barbados, but she, like Anthony Carter, came from a humble background.

Blond curls appeared over the quarterdeck, instantly whipped around in the wind, when a third woman ascended the companionway. Harriet was astonished that Lucy had not come up earlier. Her husband Jonathan Wilkes — Mister Wilkes, as the members of the Royal College of Surgeons styled themselves — was the ship’s surgeon and was standing with the other wardroom members on the lee side of the quarter deck. The ship was lively in the choppy 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 single loaf of bread. She'd been an orphan, the eldest daughter of an apothecary, and with the scant family savings running out, she had taken the bread to feed her younger siblings. The ship in which she and fifty other female convicts were transported, was attacked and taken by Borneo pirates, but Lucy managed to escape in a small boat together with the captain's daughter. They were picked up by HM frigate Medusa, under Captain Anthony Carter, and Andrew Lambert, Harriet’s younger brother and second lieutenant in the Medusa, had fallen in love with the lively and pretty blonde girl.

After their return to England, he had asked his sister, then in her unhappy first marriage, to take in the girl. 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 Jonathan Wilkes, a respected London surgeon. The chance to see the West Indian waters and islands had prompted Wilkes to entrust his growing London practice to a caretaker and join Asia as a ship’s surgeon, an arrangement that had allowed Lucy to accompany both her husband and her friend Harriet.

“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 no match for ours,” Harriet joked, but there was pride in her voice, too. Her father was a full admiral, her brother was a junior captain, and her own husband was a renowned captain already. Harriet was a Navy wife, through and through.

“Your modesty is most becoming, my dear,” Lucy laughed. “Ah, 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, milady,” Lucy greeted them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wilkes. Are you comfortable with the ship’s movements?”

“Oh, absolutely! I am blessed with a cast iron stomach,” Lucy joked. “I was only having a slight indisposition, nothing that a good concoction could not solve.”

“I did not know that Mister Wilkes was a herbalist, too?” Sir Pierce inquired.

“Oh no, I am the herbalist. My father taught me, and it comes in handy quite often.”

“You would not have a recipe against the sea sickness?” Amanda Fallon asked weakly.

In a second, Lucy was all concern.

“You should chew small bits of salted pork. Do not drink afterwards for an hour, even if you are thirsty. I shall then make you a tisane of camomile and mint leaves. That should soothe your stomach.”

“You should also 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 the two women taking charge. Had Amanda been a raw landsman who complained about sickness, he would have simply ordered her to do some heavy physical labour to distract her. However, she was his cherished wife and expecting a child, and he had felt quite clueless as to how he could help her.

His 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 whilst Lucy went to collect the appropriate herb leaves. Lucy and Harriet spent the next hours mothering Sir Pierce’s young wife.

It was good they did, because both Sir Pierce and his flag captain were very busy. The ship came fresh from the dockyard, 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 drills had been conducted to some extent whilst lying 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 who joined his admiral and their wives for a late dinner.

Tony knew that he had neglected his wife all day long, and he felt his conscience prick him about it. When he started to apologise however, Harriet cut him short.

“Do not even mention it, darling. This is a critical point in the passage. I could see that 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 fool whilst commanding a third rate. I understand and appreciate your responsibility, and I would never expect you to neglect your duty.”

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 and 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 annoyed a few times, smiled back at his wife.

“Never worry, my dear, we shall make you a Navy wife in no time. What do you say, Sir Anthony, should we invite Mister Wilkes and his charming wife to our dinner table, too?”

“Oh certainly, but not every day, Sir Pierce. The wardroom should be quite happy with Mrs. Wilkes attending the dinners, and it will reduce the imbibing.”

“That’s right, Sir Anthony,” the Admiral laughed. “A woman such as Mrs. Wilkes will have a salutary influence on those young officers.”

After dinner, Tony went on deck once more to give 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 in the dark 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 did not couple. Tony might be called on deck at any time, and they had decided to remain chaste for the duration of the journey to avoid improper situations. To sleep with his wife in his arms was a treat in itself, 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, Tony joined Harriet, 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. As agreed between them, breakfasts were taken in the captain’s cabin whilst dinner was served in Sir Pierce’s even more spacious quarters.

“How are things on deck, 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 glad I don’t have this sort of worries anymore. I take it that you will have the crew exercise?”

“Yes, Sir Pierce. This morning, we shall have another sail drill. I shall not even contemplate letting those landlubbers take down the top hamper¹. We’d have a few 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 cabins 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 than I. I've never sailed in a man o’ war myself.”

Lucy Wilkes nodded. On the homebound voyage in 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 small clothes as collectibles,” she giggled.

Lady Fallon blushed slightly whilst 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 tended 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 sails², as 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 newly cleaned, but it was also her lines that made her fast for her size.

“Damn it, Carter, where was that kind of ship when I commanded third rates?” Sir Pierce asked.

When the log was cast, Asia made eight 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 was almost inevitably. One of the raw men in the fore top lost his grip and his footing and fell from the top gallant³ yard, a 120-foot drop. Luckily, he worked the windward side, and be bounced off the shrouds twice before he smashed onto the deck. The men on the quarter deck had not seen the incident, with main tops’l and main course⁴ blocking their view, but the urgent call for the surgeon alerted Tony. He rushed to the forecastle⁵ and arrived there together with Mister Wilkes. The fallen man lay in a puddle of blood but was still moving. 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 of 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 whilst I operate on the man, Sir Anthony?”

“Can you wait another four hours?”

“Why?”

“We can reach Falmouth in four hours. It's a protected bay and we could anchor. In the open Channel, even if we heave-to⁶, the ship will be lively.”

Wilkes nodded. “Then I shall try my best to keep him alive until we reach Falmouth.”

“Thank you, Mister Wilkes!” Tony answered formally. “I shall 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 to pay a visit 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 landsman had been sedated with a sizeable helping of rum, and in the light of several lamps, 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, 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 took fresh water from the shore all night. He had also realised that they might run short of drink, and he managed to purchase three cases of Rhine wine from a smuggler and six kegs of ale from a local brewer.

As the next morning dawned, the young man had recovered enough to drink broth and water, and Mister Wilkes was now regarded as a sorcerer by the crew. The officers knew that the successful surgery boosted the morale of the men. Sir Pierce made it a point to invite the doctor and his wife to dinner whilst 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 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.

Mister Wilkes excused himself to look after his patients, and Lucy wanted to sleep a little in her chamber. Tony and Harriet repaired to their own cabin, where Tony settled at his desk to look over several reports.

Harriet sat in 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 and making short notes in the margins. He then called for his secretary, and with an apologetic look at Harriet, he dictated several changes.

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 dull letters to a 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. “I take consolation from the fact that my dear wife appreciates my efforts.”

Harriet chuckled. “I appreciate your efforts, thank you 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 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 the crew into shape. Sir Pierce is on a pleasure cruise until we'll arrive in Bridgetown.”

“Once more I realise how lucky I am to have you for 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 shall make it up to you,” he promised, and Harriet smiled.

“I’m looking forward to that!”

———

It was two weeks later, and Asia was ploughing through the Atlantic under full sails. 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.

On this day, they all stood on deck in their best uniforms, ready for inspection. It was the first Sunday of the month, and as tradition prescribed, the captain inspected ship and crew. Walking along the ranks of the Royal Marines, Tony tried to give the impression of a serious inspection, although he already 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, Mister Bell," he acknowledged.

"Thank you, Sir Anthony," Mister Bell rapped in response.

Now Tony 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 floggings, a very modest number as he well knew. He always preferred to give punitive tasks rather than a flogging, and with a raw crew, brutal punishments were the wrong way to start, except for severe breaches of discipline.

He next mustered the ship's boys, thirty children aged between eight and thirteen years. They were also called powder monkeys, their main task in battle, but they were also at the bottom rung of the pecking order on board the ship and subject to mistreatment, not only from petty officers, but also from older 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 fate for providing him with experienced petty officers who kept order on the lower decks.

Followed by his first lieutenant, Mister Dougherty, he stalked solemnly back to the quarter deck.

"The ship's in better order than I could hope, Mister 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 watch-free men were free to do as they pleased for the rest of the day. Mister Dougherty looked upon his captain with his head tilted, but then he nodded in understanding. The men had to learn that good behaviour was rewarded.

"See to it that the grog is watered down, Mister Dougherty," Tony told his second-in-command under his breath. "We don't want any disturbances."

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 a chaos as the watch-free men formed small groups on the upper deck, playing cards or games of chance, mending their clothes, whittling, telling stories and engaging in the various forms of leisurely activities. 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, preferring to spend the time of leisure sitting on the upper 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 his orders for the night.

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, at least three 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 had to be to the north of them, to judge the direction from where the shots had sounded, and the northern sky was dark already.

"Mister Galbraith, bring her about, course due north. Have the ship cleared for action, if you please. Guns loaded but not yet run out."

Of course, it took a few moments for the Marine drummer boy to get ready. 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 appeared on the quarter deck.

"What's up, Sir Anthony?"

"Shots fired three or four miles to the North. Masthead says 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! Straight ahead, Sir. Mebbe four miles."

Mister Dougherty saluted.

"Ship is ready for action, Sir Anthony! Eleven minutes and thirty seconds."

"We shall have to further practice that," Tony sighed, and the Nº1 nodded his head sagely.

They were making good speed on the northward course, and the men on the deck could easily see the muzzle flashes 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 in on its enemy braced up and tried to turn tail. There was 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 with a quarterly wind⁷.

"Kindly have the guns run out, Mister Dougherty," Tony ordered judiciously. If that foreign ship tried to evade him, he would fire a broadside to cripple her. If she tried to escape to leeward, well, the Asia was pretty damn fast before the wind. There she came. The foreign ship, a larger sloop, turned rudder again and tried to escape eastward.

"Starboard twelve points!" Tony ordered. "Man the braces! Mister Dougherty, bring her around, if you please. 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.

"Mister Mercer, fire over her bows!"

The long nine-pounders went off, and in the encroaching darkness, Tony could see the columns 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, Asia’s entire broadside 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. Asia continued to bear down on the enemy. A few minutes brought them to 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.

"Mister 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 in 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 lower forearm showed and identified him as a one-time deserter from the Royal Navy. 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 whilst attacking a Royal Navy auxiliary.

"Your name please, 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 jus’ fourteen, an' she's only a lass. Her mother died in Kingston, an' I had ta take her in. Ye would'n 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 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 saw a father trying to save his child. The problem was that the standing orders of the Navy made no exception for female pirates. Then again, females were not mentioned at all. 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 below. When Dougherty appeared, Tony looked up.

"Mister Dougherty, Captain Harry Morgan here claims that his young daughter is on board the prize. 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's she look like?"

"Brown 'air, little more'n five feet or such, mebbe eight stone, scarlet vest."

"I shall look for her then, Sir Anthony."

When Dougherty left, Harriet and Amanda Fallon came in to reclaim the comfort of the after cabins. They 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 sloop," he said by way of introduction.

Just then, the intermezzo was stopped by the return of the first lieutenant who pushed forward what seemed to be a street urchin whose hands were shackled. Only on second look did Tony see a rather pretty if powder-blackenedface. The green eyes were shining like beacons in the dirty face.

"What is your name, girl?" Tony asked calmly, but he heard that Harriet took in a sharp breath.

"Jenny Morgan," the girl returned defiantly, but her fear was palpable.

"That would be Jenny Morgan, Sir Anthony!" Mister Dougherty snapped.

Casting a fearful glance around, the girl pulled back her shoulders.

“Beggin' your pardon, Sir Anthony," she said, "I didn’t rightly know how to address you properly."

Tony allowed himself a smile. "Where did you find her, Mister 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?" Mister 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 interim. Have the master-at-arms remove those hand shackles. Her wrists and hands are too slender for them 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 by morning."

"Aye aye, Sir!" Mister 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? I mean really thoroughly. I shall bind her hands securely."

The girl held up her shackled hands. "There's no need to trouble the lady, Capt’n," 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. Mayhap I'm his daughter, me mother wouldn't 'ave known. But the way ‘e's been treatin' me, I'll be more'n happy to see 'im swing."

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 grudging-like. I had to work as 'is cabin boy at sea. And he, he wasn't acting like no father. Mostly, he was too drunk to do much. But for fourteen months, I've been dodgin’ '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 an indentured servant. Her contract was sold to a tavern owner in Kingston …"

"Which tavern?" Tony interrupted, having grown up in Kingston himself.

"The Blue Posts. She met 'Arry Morgan early on, when ‘e was a 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 his eventual housekeeper, Rose Mulcahy, in that establishment.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Heather Duncan, Sir Anthony."

"Had she brown 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 once or twice, and he remembered her talking of a daughter she had to raise. 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 Mister Dougherty!" he called, and the sentry outside repeated the call.

Mister Dougherty came a few minutes later. "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep once more, Mister 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 appreciation over having three new members for his short-handed crew.

"Aye-aye, Sir! I'll see to it. Anything else?"

"No, Mister 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.

Chapter 2 — Bridgetown

April 1806

Bridgetown was lying in the sunshine of the late spring day afternoon when they approached the harbour, beating up against the prevailing north-eastern trade wind. Harriet watched as Asia drew nearer with each tack, the low silhouette of the city growing steadily. Amanda Fallon was standing beside her, also curious to see their home for the next three years.

"Mister Dougherty, kindly have the gunner ready 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.

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 bark of the small guns rolled over the quiet water. The fort answered the salute, and by the time the last shot was fired, Asia was preparing to anchor.

Almost eight weeks after weighing anchor in Falmouth bay, the anchor cable rushed through the hawse, and the anchor broke the surface of the water with a big splash.

Over, to larboard⁸, lay the squadron, with an older third-rate, the Intrepid, 74, flying the flag of Sir Roger Conway, the outgoing squadron commander. Another eleven salutes were fired for the flag, and even the pop guns of the Belle Isle joined in. Intrepid answered in the same way, and the British taxpayers were over £6 poorer. Harriet watched as the small schooner dropped anchor, flying British colours over the crude Jolly Roger that Morgan had fashioned for his ship.

Sir Pierce's barge made ready and soon he was rowed to the flagship to call on Rear Admiral Conway. When he returned two hours later, he informed the officers that the shift of command would take place in the next morning. Harriet, along with the crew, was disappointed that they would not go ashore that evening, but etiquette dictated that they stayed on board until the formal shift of command from Sir Roger to Sir Pierce was effected. Intrepid looked to be in a fine shape, indicating that she had spent a lot of time in port during the last years. That was comforting for Harriet, as she hoped for her husband to be with her as much as possible.

That evening, the women received fresh water from the dwindling supplies and Harriet had Jenny wash her red hair with soap and freshwater. She felt heavenly afterwards, and she beamed at her husband when they sat down for dinner, likely their last on board for some time. They went to bed early, for the women wanted to attend the ceremony and needed time for their preparations in the morning.

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 the Order of the Bath. They had breakfast with the Fallons. Sir Pierce looked splendid in his admiral's uniform, also with the star of a Knight of the Bath.

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 to the quarterdeck.

Thankfully, Sir Roger Conway was not one given to tardiness, and his boat hooked onto the windward chains⁹ 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 admiral’s cabin for a late breakfast. Sir Roger dazzled Amanda and Harriet with his compliments, clearly enjoying their company. He also graciously congratulated 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 breakfast, Sir Pierce and his flag captain were rowed to the shore to pay a courtesy visit to the acting governor, Brigadier Albert Selkirk. The governorship of Barbados was an Army appointment, and 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 the brevet rank of brigadier in the Barbados militia.

They had warned the governor of their intended visit the evening before. Nevertheless, he saw fit to let them wait. For forty minutes, they sat in an anteroom, whilst 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 that 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 the poor man obviously cannot afford. Come, Captain, let us have a look at the town."

They left the gaping secretary and Selkirk’s residence and took the path to the harbour. When they were alone, Sir Pierce vented his anger.

"Who does the nincompoop 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 that game. It'll be a cold day in hell when I'll pay him another courtesy visit. We'll run the station and the squadron and we'll not bother telling him anything. If he wants to read his bloody mail, he'll have to come to the Navy Station with his 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 building? It looks unused. With a few changes it will do magnificently as my land quarters. We can share. This way, we'll have less to do with that jack-in-office. Let us get started."

The marine sentry 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 showing Sir Pierce's flag-lieutenant the paperwork. Mister Porter had spent the voyage in the wardroom, hardly ever showing on deck, and Tony barely knew him.

"Flags, your first order is to commission some workmen to convert yonder house into land quarters for myself and for Sir Anthony," Fallon told the man. "Also 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 that you met his Excellency?"

"No, I haven't, and I have no desire to meet him anymore. If he wants his mail after this morning, he'll better show up in my flagship."

"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 sentry stuck his head in.

"Begging your pardon, Sir Pierce, but there's a gentleman to see you."

Fallon took a breath. "Show him in. Next time, announce him to Mister Porter, and he will decide."

"Aye-aye, Sir!" the sentry answered, blushing at the gentle rebuke.

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. Yet, Sir Pierce just ignored the man, giving Mister Porter some more instructions. Drury looked about undecided and looked at Sir Roger for help. Conway grinned.

"Captain, the next time you wish to address a rear admiral, you better address him as "Sir", or better as “Sir Pierce”, for he is a knight. You also better wait until given permission to speak. Why don't you state your wishes to Sir Pierce's flag lieutenant after Sir Pierce has finished instructing him, and he can expedite your business?"

Drury gulped whilst Mister 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 governor’s aide-de-camp."

Fallon looked up.

"Tell him that I cannot hand over the mail. He has not been introduced to me, and I cannot hand over official mail to strangers, even those wearing some ragtag uniform. If his Excellency had seen fit to see me this morning and to introduce his aide-de-camp to me, this would not constitute a problem. Yet, 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 and courteous conduct."

It was a very red-faced Captain Drury who retreated from the station house, and it was a very smug Rear Admiral 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 the 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. He is Lieutenant General Sir Wilfred Ashton. I had dinner with him in London. Selkirk's was just a temporary appointment; he's only 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. Whilst workmen from Bridgetown and work parties from the squadron were employed in making the disused building habitable, the women remained on board, 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 family’s 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 squadron commander. There was some disappointment, too, since the senior officers were all married, and several mothers were dismayed over the lack of opportunities for their nubile daughters. On the other hand, the presence of three English ladies gave opportunity to hear society gossip.

Amanda Fallon, Lucy and Harriet spent the evening making acquaintances, whilst Sir Pierce and Tony met the most important planters and merchants. They also met Mister 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 Anthony had seen fit to have them hanged right away. Jenny Morgan and the three new crew members were not mentioned in the report. The way the Justice was disposed, he would have had the girl hanged without a thought to say nothing about the lads.

It was close to midnight when they returned to the Navy Station. The conversion of the building into a living quarters was not completed, yet, and they were rowed back to the Asia for the night.

A week later, their land quarters were 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 small Royal Marines 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. It was the official mail packet, 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 present 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, whilst 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 of whom the island could boast. 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 advancing pregnancy gave them an excuse to decline invitations.

The next important event was the trial of the pirate Harry Morgan. It was a big affair, 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 of Asia’s officers including Tony gave their testimonies.

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 in the next morning, again with all the dignitaries present. Jenny Morgan spent the morning cleaning the floors and preparing vegetables for the noon meal. She was so busy that she never thought about her father, exactly as Harriet had planned.

Able seaman Eric Johnsen was sent ashore 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 with Fallon’s approval, and they basked in their closeness. Their lovemaking 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 in the next morning, Sir Pierce could announce the birth of his first son, Percival 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 mail packet from Kingston 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 a sizeable share in the shipping line of Whitney & Sons, and he had sent word of his new station to Mister Whitney.

An hour later, Tony was on board the Asia and busy with the paperwork. The purser, Mister Standish 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 broadsides were 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 onto 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 at the table was none other than Mister Edward Rawling, solicitor, whilst Harriet sat in her customary rocking chair. Mister 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, Mister Rawling!" Tony answered. "What brings you to Barbados?"

"Sad business, Sir Anthony, very sad business."

"You worry me, Mister Rawling," Tony said, and he meant it.

"We lost our good Mister Whitecliff to the yellow fever. He had dealings in the North, and when he returned, he was feverish already. His poor wife tended to him until he died, and then she became sick too. We buried her three weeks ago."

Tony felt the blow almost physically. Rose! 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, Mister 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, Mister Rawling?"

"Mrs. Whitecliff wisely sent her daughter to stay with neighbours whilst 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 that you promised to take care of the girl if something happened to her mother. When I learned from Mister Whitney that you are in Bridgetown, I undertook to bring the girl here."

Mister 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 he was made acting captain of the Medusa. He had promised to take care of Emily if anything happened to Rose.

"The girl is here?" he temporised.

"Yes, indeed. I left her at the inn where I am lodging. The innkeeper's wife is looking after her."

"It is indeed true 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 shall stay in the Peacock Inn for a few days, until the mail packet will return to Kingston."

"You will hear my decision within the next days, Mister Rawling," Tony said solemnly.

After Rawling had left, Tony looked at Harriet. Her eyebrows were raised, indicating her curiosity.

"Well, you knew about Rose Mulcahy, didn'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 in such an event."

Harriet shrugged. "Then you must keep your promise. Just answer me one question, Tony: do you think the girl might be your own offspring?”

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; so 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 last seen him. She stood in the living room, in front of Mister 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 gifted Emily that doll.

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 in Coopers Alley, where you lived before your mother married Mister 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 my house. In the same evening when you got Betsy, 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 shall 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. Mister 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 live again eventually. I would ask you to transfer the balance of the fund into the care of your colleague, Mister Ebenezer Hogsbotham, solicitor. Mister Hogsbotham handles all my affairs."

"Very well, Sir Anthony. I already have regular dealings with Mister Hogsbotham, advancing your earnings to England. I can use the same routes of transfer. Should the fund still be for the benefit of Emily Whitecliff?"

"Certainly, Mister Rawling. It’ll serve as her dowry once she’ll be old enough. We shan’t need it for her maintenance.”

Rawling nodded. "Quite!" he said, rather pompously.

Suddenly, Tony realised that for Mister Rawling, dealing with Captain Sir Anthony Carter, KB, was a highlight in his professional career. Rawling's usual clientele consisted of Kingston's merchants and a few master-owners of small trading vessels, such as his own father had been.

"I must thank you, Mister Rawling, for your thoughtful handling of this sad affair. I ask you to reimburse yourself from my account for the costs you incurred during this voyage."

Rawling still managed Tony's earnings from the partnership with the Whitney & Sons shipping line. The worthy man, however, lifted his hands in protest.

"I could never do that, Sir Anthony. Poor Mister Whitecliff contracted the dreaded fever whilst on duty for our firm. It was the least I could do for him, to deliver his daughter into your care."

Tony nodded. "I shall 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 Mister 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.

Mister 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. Her mother died, and Emily 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, m'lady, 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 of things she may need."

"Yes, m'lady," 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 longue? Perhaps, it's 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 floggings, and he will want to look after the victim."

Lucy was averse to the use of the cat o' nine tails¹⁰, 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 one of these days."

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 whilst 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 whilst 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 a 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 Mr 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 close to breathing fire. The midwife was properly cowed; not so much because of the fact that Lucy was the wife of a high and mighty surgeon, 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 small 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 that. 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, Tony forced his face to show no emotions. Mister Dougherty was supervising the corporal punishment, and Tony knew him to be as apprehensive as himself. Two dozen lashes was by far the harshest punishment yet meted out in Asia, in fact the upper limit of what the naval regulations officially permitted under a captain’s authority. 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, Mister 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, whilst 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 had committed.

With a sigh, he returned to the cabin and buried himself in the paperwork. A half hour later, the sentry called from outside.

"Mister 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 Grimm, his steward, who 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, 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 it. 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 specialists such as sailmakers, sick bay attendants, and gunner'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 pending 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 as 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.

"According to the midwife, it was to take at least until evening, 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 anyway. Harriet's father, however, was very much alive, and he had been a good friend and mentor 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 wet nurse 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 then hired her back for room, board and a housemaid’s pay.

Harriet and Lucy taught the young woman the rudiments of reading and writing and some numbers, too, for the time after her wet nurse duties ended. Jenny, who felt left out, was included in those lessons, albeit at a higher level, for she'd gone to Sunday school in her young years.

It was a happy time for 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's Eve soiree, jointly hosted by Sir Wilfred Ashton and Sir Pierce Fallon. Harriet danced until the wee hours of morning, she enjoyed the wine 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 dispatches, 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.

That was a preview of Rough Waters — Book 2 in the Anthony Carter Sea Adventures. To read the rest purchase the book.

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