A Season Lost

by Sophie Turner

  “Ah yes, they are undoubtedly pleased by this. All men have some degree of piratical nature,” he said, “and this has roused the Carolines’s like nothing else could. For the ship before us is most likely a slaver, and therefore one of the few lawful prizes left upon the oceans.”

  After he spoke, Georgiana turned her attention more thoroughly upon the slave ship he mentioned. It was strange enough after such blue-water sailing to even see another ship, but to see one with the panicked motions of an attempted escape from the men upon its decks was still more strange.

  How long she stood there beside Matthew, watching as they drew gradually closer to the other ship, Georgiana did not know. The first event that punctuated this time of waiting was when the Caroline was clearly drawing closer, and jets of water came to be seen on either side of the ship before them.

  “My God, they are starting their water,” Matthew said, in horrified accents. “I pray we catch them now, for if we do not, I know not how they expect their cargo to survive. They wish to escape capture themselves, and they will commit nothing short of murder, to do it.”

  Georgiana was only beginning to grasp what Matthew was speaking about, this ship’s cargo. The slave trade had always been a distant and historic thing for her – her family had never possessed interests in the West Indies, and she knew her father and brother had fully supported Wilberforce, but that was the extent to which they had ever spoken of it. So she was slow in fully understanding what Matthew spoke of, this cargo that required the water that was currently being pumped out over the sides of the ship, water that should have kept men alive, men who were bound for the Americas as slaves. It had not rained since they had crossed the equator and did not seem likely to, and that was the only hope the slave ship now had of water, unless it returned to Africa.

  “If they are afraid enough to start their water, they may be afraid enough to turn and fight,” Matthew said. “I believe you should go below now – I will escort you.”

  Matthew’s escorting her there took some time, for there were several gun crews along their route that Matthew would give encouraging words to, and Georgiana noted that most of these men did seem to have a sudden piratical look to them, perhaps because many had already stripped to their waists and tied bandannas about their heads to prevent the sweat running in their eyes. When Georgiana and Matthew reached the orlop deck, she found most of the embassy standing near the entrance, aside from those few brazen men who had remained on deck, wishing to see a naval battle for themselves. Beyond all of them, at the entrance to the forepeak, stood Bowden with his arms crossed, looking a little sullen. This sullenness was somewhat alleviated by Matthew’s thanking him for looking after Lady Stanton during the battle, and reminding him that as Bowden had been entered as a captain’s servant on the ship’s books, he would still share in any prize money.

  Matthew clasped Georgiana’s hand before she could crouch down and enter the forepeak, where the other ladies were already gathered. Although there were too many people around them to say anything intimate, Georgiana saw all she needed to in his eyes, and felt certain he did in hers, as well.

  “There is danger in any engagement,” he said, reassuringly, “but this ship is no Polonais.”

  “Still, please be safe,” she murmured, and crawled in to take up a place between Moll and Mrs. Travis. She could not help but think of having dreamt of being in this situation once before, and what the outcome of it had been in her dreams – Matthew carried down on the arms of his men: bleeding, badly injured, and hardly conscious. She shuddered, and felt some comfort when Mrs. Travis patted her hand.

  They waited for what seemed a very long time, silent, seated on the cushions there and watching the lone lantern above their heads swinging to and fro with the swell. The Caroline’s bow chasers could be heard firing continuously; they were eventually punctuated by the sound of distant firing from the other ship, and crunching and crashing noises as some of the slaver’s shots hit the Caroline. Then there came a perceptible change in the ship’s motion, and one by one above their heads, the great guns went off. Following this, there was perhaps a minute of silence, then cheering.

  “I believe she’ll have struck, now,” said Mrs. Travis, patting Georgiana’s hand again.

  Mrs. Travis’s conjecture was confirmed by Bowden, who stuck his head and one muscular arm in and said, “She’s struck, and ‘tis safe for the ladies to come out.”

  It seemed they were all waiting for Georgiana to go first, although she thought this an absurd time to observe precedence, but she did so, taking his arm to rise and thanking Bowden particularly for having stayed with them through the battle to see to their safety, which seemed to further mollify him.

  The men from the embassy had already dispersed, excepting Mr. Akers, the surgeon, who was assisting Clerkwell on the operating table, for it seemed there had been some injuries even in so short an engagement. Georgiana climbed up one companion-ladder to the berth deck, very nearly empty at this time, and then another, to the gun-deck, where a faint haze of smoke and the scent of gunpowder lingered, even from just one broadside. The final companion-ladder, and she was out on the main deck, blinking in the bright sunlight, Lieutenant Egerton running over to her.

  “Lady Stanton! Commodore Stanton is over on the prize, but I think he would rather you remain below, rather than see – ”

  It was too late. Georgiana’s gaze had already turned towards the Caroline’s prize, and Egerton’s words only served as a further lure. The slave ship was smaller than the frigate, its deck noticeably lower than where she stood. Upon this deck, a few men had already been released, and more were following – thin, naked men, their skin grey and ashen except around their wrists and ancles, where it erupted in sores and blood. Georgiana almost wept to see it, and this was even before she sighted some of the Carolines carrying up the bodies and laying them neatly in a row at the stern of the ship.

  Following the sight of this, Georgiana found herself stumbling toward the rail of the frigate and retching overboard. This was the first time she could recall doing so without being pregnant – for that she most certainly was not – the cause of her illness entirely horror over what she had witnessed. It seemed Lieutenant Egerton had sent someone for whatever drink was nearest at hand, for when she had finished and rose upright, he handed her a mug and she drank without asking what it was. It turned out to be bosun’s grog, and for a moment she thought she would not keep it down, but once it had burned her belly well enough, she found she felt a little better.

  “I think Commodore Stanton would rather you had not seen that,” Lieutenant Egerton repeated weakly, taking the mug from her hand.

  “Those men! Those poor men!” she exclaimed, stealing another glance at the slave ship to find that they had brought up more bodies, and there were now women also on deck, all those who could take it being offered water by one of the midshipmen.

  “It is an atrocity,” Egerton affirmed. “Yet we have stopped this one, at least, and those who have survived will not suffer the remainder of the passage, nor be sold into slavery. We shall send the prize to Freetown, and they will be released.”

  “Thank God for that,” Georgiana said. “But what of the ships that get through?”

  “I pray there will be fewer and fewer of them, for with the war over, the navy can now turn more resources to stopping the trade.”

  “I pray there will be, too,” she responded, weakly.

  Egerton, seeing Bowden had followed his mistress to the deck, requested he see her back to her cabin to rest. It was not so much rest Georgiana needed; time alone to think on what she had seen was desirable, however, and she took up Bowden’s arm without protest, certain Lieutenant Egerton had more to do about the ship than look after her. Once she had been seated there, Bowden brought her a glass of wine. She drank a little of it, but found herself overwhelmed with reflections of what she had seen, and had a good long cry. Only then could she regard things in a more sanguine way, as Lieutenant E
gerton had, and think that at least in a vast ocean, they had found this one ship and freed its survivors.

  Matthew burst in not long after she had reached this point, saying, “Georgiana? I was told you had taken ill.”

  “I am not ill,” she reassured him. “I was sick, earlier, but it was only for sight of that ship.”

  “Oh, dearest, I am sorry – I should have warned you not to look at it.”

  “Please do not apologise, for I am glad that I did. It was horrible to see, but I would rather have seen it and better understood the horrors of the trade, than have been kept protected below decks. I am only a little embarrassed at having been so afflicted by the sight.”

  “Do not be, for you are far from the only person to be made ill by the horrors you have seen today. I very nearly lost my own stomach when we got below decks on that miserable ship,” he said, and Georgiana realised he looked rather unwell himself.

  She offered him her half-drunk glass and watched as he put his nose near the wine and sniffed deeply before tossing the rest back in one gulp. “Thank you, dearest, I’ll have Bowden bring you another,” he said.

  “Do not bother – I do not think I should drink anything more until I eat a little, and I am not yet sure my stomach is up to eating.”

  “Did you ever break your fast today?”

  “I did not, but that hardly seems a deprivation, now.”

  “Still, let me have Bowden bring you some tea and gruel – they are making it up in great quantities for those on the slave ship.”

  “A little tea does sound good, but none of the gruel, yet – not until those poor men and women have had a chance to eat their fill.”

  “Very well,” he said. “And I will have Hawke pass the word that we shall postpone tonight’s dinner until tomorrow. There is still too much to be done before we can get that ship under way again.”

  +++

  Georgiana was brought her gruel late in the evening – Matthew had been serious about her request – and ate it with little enthusiasm. Moll came to change her, replacing the nightgown she had worn all day with a fresh one, and leaving her with a solemn curtsey. Whether Moll had also seen the deck of the slave ship or this was simply a continuation of her subdued demeanour since the attack, Georgiana could not tell.

  She became aware of some purposeful movement of the ship, the deck beneath her feet no longer wallowing in the swell, and instead drifting forward. Some time after this, Matthew came into their cabin.

  “I did not think you would still be awake,” he said, proceeding to unceremoniously divest himself of all but his shirt and breeches, tossing his uniform jacket over one of their trunks.

  “I hoped to see you before I went to bed,” Georgiana said, for she did not know how to describe the need to be reminded of goodness, of love, after seeing the results of such inhumanity.

  “Well, I had not expected to see you awake, but I am glad of it all the same,” he said, holding out his arms to her.

  Georgiana rose from the chair in which she had been sitting in contemplation, and all but threw herself into his embrace. She had never felt so blessed as she did now.

  “We will hold the funerals tomorrow,” Matthew said. “I doubt that any of those who died were Christians, but they shall have a Christian burial at sea, all the same.”

  “When will you hold the service?”

  “At four bells in the forenoon watch, unless we are required for some reason or other to postpone,” he said. “Georgiana, I know you will be required to remain below during the funerals, and I would beg you not to look out of the gun-ports, for I would hate for you to have a glimpse of what I fear will happen. Sharks follow slavers because they have become accustomed to having a certain number of dead thrown overboard regularly, and we have seen several still following the Lorraine, which means there may be many more below the surface.”

  Georgiana shuddered at the thought of this, and was glad that although their embrace had loosened, his hands still clung faintly to her hips.

  “At least this does allow me to deal with Holmes in a more expedient manner than I had otherwise expected,” Matthew said, perhaps to distract her, perhaps because he wished to discuss the topic.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He shall take the Lorraine into Freetown. It is unusual for a second lieutenant to take a prize in to port when it is unlikely he shall ever catch up with his ship, but it is at least less conspicuous than his missing the Blue Peter at the Cape, particularly when our ship is unexpectedly bound for China. I presume he shall be able to conjure up some reason for not wishing to go farther abroad. And it will give Grant a chance at his step – a better chance than I ever would have thought when he joined the ship.”

  “You will promote him?”

  “I cannot promote him permanently, but once Holmes has left with the prize, I will make Grant acting third lieutenant. It is the best chance a man with little interest has of promotion – indeed, it is how Captain Ramsey got his step – but I never would have thought things would line up in such a way that he could be made this early in the journey. With any luck, my acting order shall be confirmed by the admiral at the Cape, and Grant will finally reach the rank he should have had these many years.”

  “Oh, that would be such a good thing to see.”

  “There is a great deal of goodness that has happened today, including that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I believe in God and in his power, but I do not share the belief of some others, that he actively intervenes in battles. How should God decide where to stand in man’s wars, when there are both good and bad men on either side, who find themselves in a situation where they must seek to kill each other?” Matthew asked. “But slave ships are much better caught near the coast. So in this instance, when we wake on a day of blue-water sailing to find such a ship before us, when a lucky shot slows her pace, well, I cannot help but think that God has found this battle, this cause, worthy of some intervention, and we were meant to free those men and women.”

  “I think you are right,” Georgiana said, for what he said most succinctly reflected her own ruminations. “Matthew, what will become of them, when they are brought to Freetown?”

  “They will be released, of course.”

  “But as they are now, without clothes, or even a few pennies for food?”

  “Ah, that I must admit I do not know very much about. You are right to think of it, Georgiana.”

  “Could we send something with them, to re-establish them?”

  Matthew replied that they could, and it would be honourable to do so, but it was clear he did not wish for any money to be sent in care of Lieutenant Holmes. It would be better, he said, to enclose a banknote in a letter to the governor and send it in the care of one of the reliable hands that must, unfortunately, form part of the prize crew, for while Matthew could ill spare them on such a journey, he did not trust sending off Holmes with those few dregs of his crew. Nor did he know who the governor was, currently, but he thought Lord Amherst might, and promised to ask him in the morning. With this settled, Georgiana felt the fatigue she had been ignoring for some time overwhelming her, and this must have been noticeable, for he asked if she wished to retire.

  Georgiana responded that she did, and he assisted her up into her cot, then clambered into his own with none of the awkwardness Georgiana generally struggled with, in reaching her own sleeping-place. She missed those days when their cots had been joined together, and missed those things they had done, when their cots were joined together. After her miscarriage, she and Matthew had agreed they should take a long break from marital relations, to allow her womb time to heal, and he had proposed this should lessen the temptation for both of them. Georgiana knew there were certain things that could be done, without risking a child, however, and she was beginning to wish she had proposed they leave the cots together so that at least they might have those pleasures. This was not the night to raise such a topic, however, and so she said h
er good-night to him and sought to make herself as comfortable as she could be, in her lonely cot.

  +++

  Lord Amherst, upon Matthew’s application, did know that the present governor of Sierra Leone was Charles MacCarthy. The baron claimed no acquaintance with MacCarthy, although, upon hearing of the purpose of Matthew’s letter, he did handsomely insist on including a banknote of his own. Thus, they were required to write a letter blind of acquaintance, although Matthew thought it appropriate enough, as correspondence from a Royal Navy captain and his wife to the governor of a present colony. The letter requested the governor’s assistance in seeing the money from the banknotes put to food and clothing for the freed slaves, or distributed equally among them, depending on what the governor thought best. It was a lot to put in the hands of someone they had never met, but Georgiana and Matthew thought it the best thing possible, under the circumstances.

  The letter was given over to the oldest, soberest, and most reliable of the men chosen from among the prize crew, with instructions that it was to be delivered without delay to the governor, and a few shillings for the seaman’s trouble, to be put towards his entertainment once the task was done. That man was standing on the deck of the slaver alongside the rest of the prize crew and Lieutenant Holmes, who looked about him with an expression of mild disgust.

  Now that there was a chaplain on board the ship with the embassy, there was a degree more delicacy in determining if Matthew should continue to bear the responsibility for religious ceremonies. Mr. Griffith had taken on the Sunday services, and with Matthew’s blessing, took charge of the funerals as well. When the time came for them, Georgiana sat in the great cabin, alone, solemnly listening to Mr. Griffith read the service she could not attend:

  “We therefore commit their Bodies to the Deep, to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body (when the sea shall give up her dead) and the life of the world to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who at his coming shall change our vile body, that it may be like his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.”