by J. D. Davies
Throughout, I have attempted not to twist the known historical record too far, but the story of Roger le Blanc's escape from France meant giving Marie-Madeleine, the famously loyal wife of Nicholas Fouquet (whose downfall took place as Matthew describes it), a distinctly more promiscuous character than she actually possessed. Conversely, Charles II and Catherine of Braganza did spend the first part of their honeymoon at Hampton Court; during the spring of 1662, most of the king's navy was indeed in the Mediterranean or in Portugal; and the whirlpool of Corryvreckan is still just as much a feature of West Highland waters as it was in Matthew Quinton's day.
Several of the lavish meals served to Matthew and his fellow officers were actually consumed, albeit not aboard any frigate named Jupiter; in several cases, I have taken the menus almost verbatim from the diary of Henry Teonge, who served as a naval chaplain in the 1670s and who always displayed a particular interest in the fare placed in front of him. Similarly, Malachi Landon's doom-laden readings of the astrological charts are taken from the journals of a contemporary seaman, Jeremiah Roach, who served as a lieutenant in the 1660s and eventually rose to command. For Roach, as for many others of the time, astrology was seen as an essential and entirely legitimate adjunct of the science of navigation.
Although its author does not appear in person in this book (an omission that will be rectified in the next of the series), the influence of another contemporary diary, that of Samuel Pepys, pervades this story and heavily influenced some of the descriptions and assumptions within it. However, the demands of the plot forced me to take some liberties with the precise order of certain events in April and May 1662, notably the birth of the Princess (later Queen) Mary and the dating of Easter. I did so with a clear conscience, particularly in the case of the latter–bearing in mind quite how many liberties have already been taken with it by organized Christianity since at least the time of the Council of Nicaea!
Finally, I have not been able to find a definitive origin for 'The White Rose', the wonderful Cornish lament that was sung at James Vyvyan's funeral and which I first heard many years ago on a memorable winter's evening in the ethereal surroundings of Truro Cathedral. The song seems to date from at least the eighteenth century, and its subject matter suggests that it was originally a paean to the House of York, in whose name Cornwall last rose in arms in 1497. Even if a performance of it after a sea battle in 1662 proves to be an anachronism, I am perfectly content to leave it where it is.
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Acknowledgements
The origins of Gentleman Captain lie in the academic research into the history of the seventeenth century navy that I have been undertaking for well over twenty-five years. What began as a cathartic piece of light relief from supposedly more 'serious' writing rapidly took on a very serious (and often all-consuming) life of its own, and as both Matthew Quinton and his creator took their first tentative steps, a number of influences soon began to shape both our journeys. I began my teaching career in Cornwall, spending several years learning to love that ancient land and its ferociously independent people, so it seemed fitting to cast the Jupiters crew as the heirs of An Gof and Flamank, and (perhaps) the fathers of Trelawny's 'twenty thousand': meur ras dhywgh hwi.
Next, a special but belated 'thank you' to the crews of the Clyde Fleet Tenders operating from HM Naval Base Faslane between 1988 and 1994. They introduced a very green Sub-Lieutenant RNR (CCF) to the scenic splendours and complex navigational challenges of the west coast of Scotland, and to much else besides - notably the merits of a bewildering array of malt whiskies, the elastic nature of licensing hours in isolated fishing harbours and the graphically anatomical reasons why one should steer well clear of a certain town in Argyll. The voyages of the CFTs instilled in me a love of those splendid, wild places that many subsequent visits have confirmed and deepened.
A number of old friends read drafts of the book and made many constructive comments. Ann Coats, Peter Le Fevre and my jacket artist, Richard Endsor, kept up their formidable reputation as probably the most knowledgeable, supportive and witty 'discussion group' working in any era of naval history. Their unfailingly generous and selfless input into both this novel and my non-fiction books on the period has been above and beyond the call of duty, and truly in the spirit of the original musketeers: 'all for one, and one for all'! But for illness, Frank Fox would have been counted with them. However, his contribution to my understanding of the layout and capabilities of Charles II's warships, and to the scholarship of the Restoration navy as a whole, was already incalculable.
Having taught me to sail long ago, David Jenkins again kept me afloat by ensuring that my passages about sailing did not stray from the realm of fiction into that of downright implausibility. Similarly, Sheena Boa and Christina Webb ensured that the exertions of Matthew Quinton's steeds did not exceed the capacity of any horse, then or now. My agent, Peter Buckman, displayed unwavering faith in the book, and Becky Senior, my editor at Old Street, provided many perceptive insights and rigorous but always constructive criticisms. Finally, though, my greatest debt is to Wendy, my sternest critic and strongest supporter, who read all of the drafts and acted as a surrogate stepmother to Matthew Quinton and the other characters. I dedicate this book to her, with gratitude and much love.
J. D. Davies
Bedfordshire
February 2009
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Front
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
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