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 hamper. 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 sails, 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 gallant 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 course blocking their view, but the urgent call for the surgeon alerted Tony. He rushed to the forecastle 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-to, 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.