In relating the latter, Frank became so enthralled with the details of battle that he quite forgot for a period the point of his recital, and I was forced to endure all the tedium of broadsides and their timing, until we had left the High Street behind and turned towards the Portsmouth naval yard. It was there we intended to fall in with Captain Seagrave, before undertaking the passage back up the Solent. I felt compelled to interrupt my brother's effusions regarding the excellency of the Stella's guns.

“Mr. Chessyre,” I supplied. “When did you learn of his unhappy fate?”

“LaForge had delivered his account of the French captain's end, to considerable shock among the officers and much muttered consultation. There were those among the assembly inclined to discredit the surgeon, as a Frenchman and a dog; but others, more sanguine, expressed the view that LaForge should hardly have fabricated such a story about a British officer completely unknown to him. I believe that Seagrave might have received a complete acquittal at about six bells, and put the affair at his back, if it had not been for a lad rowed out to the Valiant He handed Admiral Hastings a note from the Southampton magistrate. Hastings broke the seal and read it silently to himself— appeared immensely struck — and handed the note around the panel. At length, Vice-Admiral Black read the intelligence aloud.

“So much for Seagrave's acquittal,” I murmured as we approached the towering portals of the naval yard.

“Indeed. It was clear that more than one man present considered Tom the very person to have throttled Chessyre to death.”

“Was he throttled, then?”

“With a garrote. It is decidedly a man's weapon.” Frank threw me so troubled a look that my heart turned over with pity. “This death comes hard on the heels of your Frenchman's story. Do you think it possible, Jane, that I spurred Tom Seagrave to murder when I sent him that express? — That I gave him every cause to avenge betrayal?”

“It is what the court-martial will hasten to believe, certainly. But I regard Chessyre's death in a different light altogether.”

“That being?”

“The sinister glow of conspiracy. You said that when you met the man he was mortally afraid. He came to you but a few hours later, and disappeared when he could not secure an interview. Chessyre meant to recant his testimony, Frank — to expose, perhaps, his employer — and he was killed to quell his conscience.”

“Jane! You have read far too many horrid novels!”

“Then I suggest you adopt the practise. You reveal a distressing naivete, Fly, with regard to the ambition of evil men. Think how much more useful Chessyre shall be, dead instead of alive! Rather than exonerate his captain, he shall seal his fate.”

Frank's countenance was wooden with disbelief. “But how are we to expose such a plot — if indeed it exists?”

“You must look into Seagrave's personal affairs. You have the means to do it, Frank. You know his colleagues— how he stands at home and at sea. From the men who esteem and serve him, the men who despise and mistrust him, we shall learn the answers we seek.”

“You would ask me to spy on Tom!”

“It would not be the first time, I assure you. Someone — someone who bears him no goodwill — has learned his habits long since.” My steps slowed as we approached the iron portal of the naval yard. “We may assume that Chessyre did not act on the spur of the moment His plans were set before ever the Stella hauled anchor off Spithead. I should dearly like to know the nature of Tom Seagrave's sealed orders. Is it customary to sail in complete ignorance of one's duty, as he did?”

“I should not call it customary — but neither is it so unusual. Sealed orders are adopted when the duty at hand must be undertaken in extreme secrecy. They are intended to keep the ship's destination from being common knowledge among the crew, which might talk too freely among their mates onshore.”

“You have no idea why the Stella was sent to Lisbon?”

“Tom has never said. I should never think to ask. These were sealed orders, Jane.”

“I admire your delicacy,” I said wryly, “but must consider it ill-placed in such a turn. You must begin to ask questions you personally abhor, Frank, if you are to save your friend. Who should despatch him on such a duty?”

“Admiral Hastings. But the directive might come from the Admiralty, in London — from persons unknown to Seagrave himself.”

“I see,” I said thoughtfully. “Careful planning, and the simple employment of an established system for despatching ships, might answer the case of conspiracy. I wonder if the engagement with the Manon was intended as well?”

“Absurd!” Frank cried. “Now you liave gone too far!”

I wheeled upon my brother with ill-concealed impatience. “Etienne LaForge is afraid for his life, Frank. After what occurred in Southampton last night — can you blame him?”

26 February 1807, cont.

“AUSTEN!”

My brother withdrew his gaze from my earnest visage and peered about the yard. A gnarled figure under a battered cockade was advancing upon us.

“Admiral Bertie!” Frank cried. “I did not know you was to be in Portsmouth this morning! We might have come down in the hoy together! How d'ye do?”

“Fair enough, Captain, fair enough — though I could wish my legs in better trim. The gout has nearly crippled me; this is what comes of shifting too long on dry land. I cannot recommend it!”

The Admiral has long been intimate with Frank, but now forms a part of our family's Southampton acquaintance, in company with his invalidish daughter, Catherine. I felt a rush of affection at the sight of his weather-beaten countenance framed by an old-fashioned powdered wig. In his kindly manner and hearty goodwill, the Admiral must always recall my father, though he lacks the subtlety of my father's understanding.

“Nothing would do for Catherine but that I should be driven down from Southampton in the trap,” said he, “and all the while I was longing for the roll of the sea! Good day to you, Miss Austen. You look a picture.”

A picture of what, might better be left undisclosed; the wind and persistent damps of February cannot have improved my complexion.

“I hope you left Miss Bertie in good health?” I enquired.

“A slight cold, nothing to refine upon. But I should better be enquiring after yours! I understand that you have spent several days with my surgeon, Hill, among the prisoners of Wool House. He speaks your praises whenever we chance to meet. There is no better nurse than Miss Austen, so Hill says, throughout the Kingdom.”

“He is an excellent man. The French are in good hands.”

“Pity. I could wish them in worse. Your brother, Miss Austen, should treat them as they deserve — eh, Austen? He should nurse them with a few good broadsides apiece, and scuttle what he could not tow!” The Admiral smiled at his little joke, and Frank attempted the same.

“My sister has proved the value of charity,” he said, “in procuring the testimony of the French surgeon. I thought Monsieur LaForge should have achieved Tom Seagrave's acquittal — but was sadly disappointed.”