“I did not have to find the ring. It found me. That is the ring my grandfather, the pirate, gave my grandmother when they exchanged vows in the church on Martinique. And they loved each other for a very long time.”
Epilogue
1825, Bellingham House, Hampshire
Sophie rested on a heavily cushioned wicker chair on the terrace. A sweep of green lawn stretched down to the bluffs overlooking the sea on Arnaud’s mother’s country estate near Portsmouth. She wetted the lead of a pencil stub and lifted her eyes skyward for inspiration.
Her mother-in-law, Honore Bellingham, crushed her skirts beneath her on the grass where she knelt in front of her grandsons. Servants clattered in and out of the house, loading trunks onto a carriage in the front drive.
Honore lifted a protesting tom kitten out of a basket and placed him on the grass where two small boys eagerly reached for him. “Wait. He has a brother as well.” She reached to the bottom of the basket and produced another six-toed cat from the depths.
“Nana, why do they have so many toes?” Jean snatched back a hand after his quarry swatted him with sharp little claws.
“If you are very good, and don’t argue with Nurse when it is time for your naps, there is a tale I will tell you about the far away island you’re going to visit. The kittens’ many-greats-grandfather sailed there years ago with a sea captain who was a friend of your great-grandfather.”
“Whyn’t you go with us, Nana?” Paolo frowned, and a tear slid down his chubby cheek.
“Nana has to stay here and take care of the family business which will one day belong to you and your brother.”
“But we don’t want to leave you.” Jean sniffled and stretched his hands toward her.
Honore pulled him into her arms. “Don’t cry.” She buried her nose in his neck and kissed him soundly. “You’ll be back before you know it, and I promise to visit you in your dreams.”
“Promise?” Paolo snuffled and gave a great sigh. Arnaud joined them and sank onto the grass. The kittens scrambled to climb his legs, and both boys bounded to his side.
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by two small cats attacking his arms and scratching his neck. “Away you swabs,” he intoned and stood, foisting the felines off onto his sons. “We’ll be at sea a long time, and these cats will have to earn their keep.”
“How, Papa?” Paolo hoisted his kitten onto his shoulder where a heavy woolen shirt padded him from the small creature’s claws.
Arnaud leaned down and twisted his face into a grimace. “They’ll eat the mousies who get into our grain.”
The boys squealed and ran toward Sophie. She gathered them in close. “Why are you scaring the boys? They will never go down for their naps now.” She leveled a cross stare at Arnaud.
“Someone has to toughen them up. Maybe they’ll soon have a sister to protect.” Squeals erupted again.
Sophie shook her head, shooed the boys back toward Arnaud, and returned to puzzling out the end of her latest poem.
Honore stood and joined her son. The boys rolled on the grass with the kittens. “A little girl? How can you be so sure?”
“I know these things. At night the little one rolls and kicks against me, and then she changes direction immediately.” He gazed at his wife who pretended to ignore him while she scribbled in her journal. “She already has the mind of a strong, determined woman.”
“You do not know. Stop teasing your mother with her hope for a granddaughter.” Sophie stood and gave him a triumphant look, handing him the journal. “It’s finished.”
Arnaud rolled his eyes, but his mother gave him a frown. “Read the last two lines for me,” Honore demanded.
“For when all tis done, and the sea’s calmed the wind; the captain returns to his family again.”
After he finished reciting the lines, Arnaud returned the journal to Sophie and pulled her into his arms for a long kiss. A while later, he murmured into her ear, “I thank the ocean gods every day for bringing me safely back to you.”
* * *
-THE END-
Afterword
On March 16, 1807, the British Parliament passed the Abolition of the Slave Trade Act. In the following year the Royal Navy’s African Squadron was formed, its mission to stop and search ships at sea suspected of carrying slaves from Africa to the Americas and the Middle East.
As audacious and amazing the intent of this small, special force, the real stories of the squadron’s crew and officers who endured unbearable conditions over nearly a hundred years are the stuff of hair-raising, swashbuckling tales.
Ships flying the flags of at least half a dozen countries were against them. The winds (or lack thereof) and heavy, perverse currents off the West Coast of Africa were against them. The mysterious source of tropical fever was against them. The estuary-pocked geography of the coast within the orders given the squadron, 12 degrees north to 15 degrees south (decreed by treaties with various countries), was against them.
And, by the way, that portion of the African coast is over 2,000 miles long: equivalent to the British coast from John o’ Groats through the Straits of Dover and up to Clyde, or the entire Atlantic coast of the United States, around the coast of Florida, and straight on to New Orleans.
When the ships headed northerly, they could count on some reasonable winds, but heading south was a slow slog. A drop down from Freetown to Lagos might take ten days or a fortnight. But in 1812, Captain Lloyd on the sloop Kangaroo took more than five weeks from April 7 through May 16 to make a non-stop return passage against wind and current from Whydah to Freetown. It was much easier to patrol farther out on the ocean where the winds were more favorable, but the slave ships stayed closer to the coast.
And finally, the devious international politics of their own country worked against them. Treaties with countries like Spain, Portugal, and France contained so many loopholes that many times courts ultimately denied them prize ships. In at least one instance, after the squadron freed slaves from a ship, courts ruled the British government had to reimburse the slaver for each human life saved.
Across an action spanning nearly 100 years, the men of the squadron also had to deal with the government influence of English slavers and plantation owners whose profits were threatened.
However, between 1808 and 1898, this small fleet within the Royal Navy liberated at least 150,000 documented Africans and lost 17,000 of its own men.
Were the men (all volunteers after the Napoleonic Wars ceased) in the service only for the promise of prize money? Who would join a cause where some ships experienced the loss of up to nearly half the crew? Or join an expedition where captains routinely encouraged their officers and crew to prepare their wills before setting off to sea?
How do we know this? The men’s letters, some diaries, ships’ logs, and surgeons’ logs have been digitized and made available online by the National Museum of the Royal Navy at Portsmouth.
* * *
Sources: National Museum of the Royal Navy; “The Royal Navy and the Slavers,” by W.E.F. Ward; “Enforcing Abolition at Sea 1808-1898,” by Bernard Edwards; and “Sweet Water and Bitter,” by Sian Rees
A Little Something Extra
If you are intrigued by Captain Arnaud Bellingham’s story, send me a request at [email protected] and I will send you a free prequel, “Rhum Bay.” His family is part of a rum and shipping empire on Martinique that spans generations. Enjoy this fun tale as my treat.
* * *
If you loved the adventures of the devilishly handsome officers of the Squadron in “Pride of Honor,” please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or your favorite book blog. Your humble seagoing scribe deeply appreciates all your efforts to help her spread the word.
Join me on Facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorAndreaKStein
* * *
Come find me along with the Squadron officers and get advance, exclusive news of the adventures to come on Facebook in our private group, Men of th
e Squadron:
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For more high seas excitement, content available nowhere else, and occasional fun rewards, sign up for my newsletter here:
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Website:
https://www.andreakstein.com
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Coming Soon!
Other Titles in the Men of the Squadron Series
* * *
Pride of Duty – May 2020
Pride of Country – August 2020
Pride of Service – November 2020
Other Books By Andrea K. Stein
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
* * *
Blockade Running:
Fortune’s Horizon
Horizons East
* * *
Blanchard Family Rum and Shipping Dynasty:
Secret Harbor
Rhum Bay
* * *
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
* * *
Steamy Nights on Super Yachts:
Way Too Deep
Up Too Close
Out Too Far
PRIDE OF DUTY
By
Andrea K. Stein
Chapter One
50º47’56.36”N, 1º5’28.5”W
Portsmouth, England
August 1820
Dr. Cullen MacCloud tipped back the too-dainty chair in the small Portsmouth tea shop and threw a stern look at the sullen young man across from him. He hated having to make do with furniture not built to accommodate his broad shoulders and bulk.
He pushed his feet back flat onto the floor and leaned forward to better intimidate William Morton, the most impertinent excuse for a physician’s assistant he’d ever encountered. He could not for the life of him fathom why his predecessor, the recently deceased ship’s surgeon, had importuned the captain to make sure (in writing) the young man would be able to continue to work alongside him in the ship’s surgery.
Cullen had hoped getting away from the ship to a different setting might soften the slight young man’s demeanor. Instead, the damned cod lifted his chin, still belligerent, as if he could challenge Cullen’s words.
Christ, but he’d had a hell of a week. First he’d had a hopeless argument with his father. The bastard had used his court influence to get Cullen assigned away from his former Captain Arnaud Bellingham to the current posting. Arnaud was still awaiting final overhaul and crewing of his ship to return to the West African Squadron, and had moved to Portsmouth with his new wife, Sophie.
Cullen had hoped until the very last moment he could somehow thwart his father’s ambitions, but he’d lost the battle. No one in the Royal Navy fought the Admiralty once a decision had been made. He’d been aboard the “HMS Aruthsa” for a full week sharing quarters with the former surgeon’s sullen offspring.
He’d been pleasantly surprised at how well organized and kept the surgery had been on his arrival. Most of the time, he and William had inventoried medical supplies. Cullen had gone over Dr. Morton’s logs for the previous two years to get an idea of the state of the health of the officers and crew.
Young Morton had been very thorough in his accounting of the surgery, and helpful in explaining the ship’s shifts and routines. Cullen had not been surprised at the daily line of crewmen at the surgery. When a ship was in port for provisioning, or re-fit, the men tended toward boredom, which in turn produced a steady stream of “ailments.” Once they were back at sea, and in action, the medical complaints would slow to a trickle.
He leaned closer to the argumentative young man. “Why can ye not see the wisdom in leaving the ship to continue yer studies in Edinburgh? Surely yer late father would want ye to follow in his profession.”
“I’ve been trained thoroughly by my father. Why, I know more than most of the second-year students at Edinburgh Medical School.”
Cullen sat up, re-assessing the rude young twig. “Then why not get at least yer first year so ye can set up a proper practice? What’s keeping ye here?”
He couldn’t see the young man’s neck for the voluminous wrapped neckcloth he affected, but he imagined that part of his anatomy burned as brightly as his boyish face. However, something about the long, sooty lashes framing cool gray eyes nagged and buzzed like an obnoxious fly at the back of Cullen’s brain.
“How old are you? Ye’ve not even the beginnings of a beard. Who are you to tell me ye know so much? I’ve been to Edinburgh. I completed my studies there, and I’ve been serving the King’s navy ever since.”
William snapped his face away from Cullen’s inspection and stood, staring a long time out a window near their table. He turned suddenly, his face still a shade of scarlet. “When you return from shore leave, Dr. MacCloud, I’ll be gone. I won’t impose upon you any longer. I’m sure one of my father’s associates would be glad to have my assistance.”
With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door only to be intercepted by the one of the Aruthsa’s marines.
Cullen rose from the table at the look on the marine lieutenant’s face.
“Dr. MacCloud, Mr. Morton. We need you. There’s been an accident. Two men were fighting and fell from the topgallant.”
Cullen turned to hasten out the door in the wake of the marine and was a little surprised to see young William fall in behind without a sound. The boy’s usually sullen face transformed into one of concern, and intent. It was only then he realized the insolent cub hadn’t revealed his age. What was he trying to hide?
PRIDE OF DUTY – COMING IN MAY 2020
Pride Of Honor: Men of the Squadron Series, Book 1 Page 26