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CHAPTER 10
Frederick awoke
at his usual time. He carefully extracted himself from the cot,
as to not disturb his sleeping wife. Looking back into the bed
he saw that the bruise about her eye was becoming a deep purple
with a twinge of green around the edge. All the anger from the
night before returned and Frederick fought to hold it under tight
command. Wait, our time is coming, just wait.
As Frederick was
preparing to leave the cabin, he gathered all the mirrors in
the room and placed them in his sea-chest. As he left, he noticed
Nowak flinching at the sight of him. That was no mystery; the
verbal reprimand the steward received the night before was complete
and thorough. Wentworth took pity on the man - he knew Nowak
would never make that mistake again. He patted his steward on
the shoulder with a small smile and proceeded to the companionway.
Minutes later Wentworth
was striding on his quarterdeck. The swabbers worked as hard
as ever, but he could sense the uneasiness among the crew. Apprehension
was in the officer's mess as well. "Captain…?"
"Mr. Price,
you are up early. I thought this was Mr. Mumphry's watch."
"So it is,
Sir, but I thought…"
"Good thinking,
sir. What can I do for you?"
"Are there
any orders for me?"
Frederick smiled
at his subordinate's competence. "Yes; I will hold an official
inquiry into the matter of last night's incident today at four
bells in the Forenoon Watch. Have the prisoner brought to my
cabin as well as all the witnesses."
"Yes, Sir."
Price had just moved
off to see to Pyke's condition when Wentworth saw Colonel Tarleton
waiting on the leeward side of the quarterdeck. Might as well
get this over with. "Colonel Tarleton, you wished to
speak with me?"
"Yes, Captain."
Wentworth hid his displeasure; somehow Tarleton made the word
"Captain" sound like he was speaking to an inferior.
"I wanted to know what time you were forming the Court of
Inquest."
Wentworth looked
blankly at the man.
"Umm…I
am sure you wish for all senior officers to participate."
"Colonel Tarleton,
when was the last time you served aboard ship?"
The short Marine
flushed. "Captain Wentworth, I have been an officer in the
Royal Marines…"
"When did you
last serve at sea?"
"Ahem…Most
of my duties during my career involved shore duty."
"In other words,
you have never served aboard ship."
"If you put
it that way, no, Sir."
"Colonel Tarleton,
given your ignorance of life aboard ship, I shall condescend
to explain to you. I am Captain aboard this vessel. Therefore
- I - Am - The - Law, according to the Articles of War. There
will be no 'court of inquiry' for any enlisted man aboard this
ship. I am judge, jury, and…" he leaned into the man's
face, "…executioner. Do you understand?"
Tarleton gulped,
"Yes, Sir."
"Excellent.
Any other peculiarities of ship's life I can clear up for you?"
"No, Sir."
Wentworth grinned
as the Marine retreated to below decks. What he said was not
entirely correct. As captain, Wentworth did have absolute power
over minor offenses, such as insubordination, drunkenness, or
theft. The attack on Anne, however, was a major crime - potentially
a capital offense - and that required a court-martial made up
of an Admiral and several Post-Captains. That did not mean that
Wentworth was powerless; the "customs of the sea" gave
him some latitude. And he meant to use as much of that latitude
as possible. No one would quibble too much if Pyke never made
it to Funchal.
"Frederick?"
Anne lifted herself
on her elbows, groggy from the laudanum. Was it a dream; a
nightmare? The twinge of pain proved that the assault was
no delusion. The rumpled sheets proved that Frederick had shared
the bed with her. Anne looked about, but could see no looking
glass. Carefully removing herself from the cot - she almost fell
twice - she looked about her belongings. No mirror. For the first
time in her life she wished her father was nearby; there was
always a looking glass in close proximity to Sir Walter.
She gingerly touched
her face. She felt she had a large, painful plaster attached
to her cheek. She threw on a robe and left the sleeping quarters
for the great cabin. There she found Dr. Maturin and Nowak.
"Ah, Mrs. Wentworth.
Please sit down - you must rest. Nowak…"
"Yes, Doctor."
The steward left the cabin.
"Doctor, have
you a looking glass?"
"Alas…it
is somewhere in my cabin. I could search for it, but…"
The pair was interrupted
by the entrance of Captain Wentworth. "Good morning, my
dear. Did you rest, at all?"
"I believe
so, Frederick, but I am a little dizzy."
"Doctor?"
Stephen examined
Anne's face. "About all well as could be hoped. Mrs. Wentworth,
forgive me, but I must ask: how much do you remember about last
night?"
She shivered. She
could still feel the man's hands; could still smell the liquor
on his breath. "Too much, sir."
"It is painful,
to be sure; but that you can remember shows that there was no
damage to the brain. Rest shall set you up, with the blessing."
There was a knock
on the door. "I have something else in mind, Doctor,"
said Frederick as he crossed to open it. Nowak and several men
came in carrying buckets of hot seawater.
"Excellent
idea, sir. I shall join you for breakfast." Stephen bowed
and exited the cabin.
"Rig up the
tub here," ordered Frederick. The men set up a portable
canvas bathtub in the middle of the cabin and filled it with
the water. One bucket was left. "Good; thank you, men."
The men gave their salute and left.
"Oh, Frederick,
thank you. A bath sounds divine…"
"Allow me,
my dear…"
Frederick helped
Anne out of her dress - she was still wearing what she was last
night - and aided her into the tub. Anne gasped as she reclined
in the hot salt water.
Frederick was not
nearly so relaxed; he had forgotten how enticing Anne's nude
wet form was. To his mortification, his body betrayed his innocent
intentions. I am such a brute! I must not look upon her!
He pulled up a chair and sat looking away from her.
Anne opened her
eyes to the disquieting sight of her husband turned away from
her. Is my face that disgusting to him? Before she could
stop herself, tears began to run down her face.
"Is your bath
comfortable, my dear?" The lady's sob caught his attention.
"Anne!" he cried as he turned to her. "My dear…I
am so sorry. How terrible this has been for you. Can I offer
you anything to drink…anything that might soothe your feelings?"
"No, Frederick…nothing."
To his consternation,
the captain's body stilled showed the type of consolation it
wished to provide to the lovely lady. Frederick resolvedly kept
his eyes on the far bulkhead. "Anything I can do for you;
name it."
"Oh Frederick
- you cannot even look at me!"
"Look at you?
Anne…I… I cannot."
"Am I so ugly?
So disgusting? I suppose I have been tainted forever!"
"Anne! Never!
Oh, God; Anne do not say such things! I adore you!"
"But you said…Oh
Frederick, do not lie!"
"Anne, I would
NEVER lie to you. I cannot look at you...because… Forgive
me, I cannot help it…"
Though her tears,
Anne made out the rather large bulge in the front of Frederick's
canvas trousers. Her sobs turned into coughs that turned to into
laughter. "Ohhh…my…God… Frederick…ha
ha ha…"
"Anne, I have
embarrassed you."
"Nooo…ha
ha ha… I am…ha ha ha…not…ha ha ha…"
At least the tears
were those of mirth. "Anne…it's not…that funny
(snort)…"
"Hahaha - owwww!"
"Anne?"
"It is nothing;
it just hurts to laugh."
"Then I shall
stop giving you reason to do so."
Oh, Frederick, I
do love you so."
He smiled. "I
believe you are aware of my feelings, madam."
"Indeed I am
(giggle). Come, sit next to me."
"Very well,
but I cannot answer for my…self."
"(Snort) I
thought you would stop giving me reason to laugh, sir."
"You are correct,
Anne; forgive me." He sat next to her, holding her hand.
His body after a time became used to the alluring sight.
"Frederick,
I will need your assistance."
"Anything,
love."
"I wish to
wash myself, but I am still a little dizzy."
He stood up. "I
shall be your rock, madam. Hold on to me."
"You have always
been my rock, Frederick."
"Coffee, I
believe, was one of God's greatest gifts," stated Stephen.
"Do you not think so?"
Frederick shrugged.
"I like it well enough, but I have been on a coco ship many
a time in my younger days and not been the worse off for it."
"Hot chocolate
instead of honest coffee? Truly that is purgatory, sir."
"I suppose
my preference speaks for itself, as the beans I ship are coffee.
May I pour you another cup?"
"I should like
it of all things. Mrs. Wentworth, do you not eat?"
"I would like
to, but it pains me to chew. And I love bacon so."
"I believe
we have some burgoo," offered Frederick. "Ah, here
it is, my dear."
"Thank you.
Doctor, please pass the sugar."
"Yes, I find
that the vile stuff needs a bit of sweetener to choke it down."
"When I was
a boy, to save on the mess subscription, I ate burgoo for months
on end," Frederick chuckled.
Anne, with a mouthful
of the porridge, could only shudder.
The rest of the
meal was filled with similar light conversation. It was over
the second (!) pot of coffee Frederick gave Stephen a significant
look. "Do you think that Mrs. Wentworth should attempt to
visit the Sick Bay this morning, Doctor?"
Stephen caught his
meaning. "I believe it could be attempted, sure, should
I accompany her. I would like Dr. Powell to consult on the case;
this is his ship."
"Indeed. We
must follow all that is right and proper."
Anne realized they
were talking around her, but about her. Obviously, Frederick
wanted her away from the cabin for some reason. "Captain
Wentworth, if you wish me out of the cabin this morning then
please say so directly."
Frederick pursed
his lips and then gave Anne a serious yet kindly look. "Anne,
I have important business to conduct this morning; forgive me."
Anne glanced at
Dr. Maturin, who was looking at his half-eaten breakfast. "Very
well. Give me but a moment and we shall be off. No, no, I need
no assistance." She rose and returned to the sleeping quarters
to retrieve a scarf. Wrapping it carefully about her head she
returned to the gentlemen.
Frederick's heart
broke at Anne's insufficient attempt to conceal her injury. Propriety
be damned! He grasped his wife's hand and brought it to his
lips. "Until dinner, my sweet." He was rewarded with
a small smile.
Anne opened the
cabin door and found two Marines posted outside. As she passed
one of them fell in step behind her and Dr. Maturin. Well,
it seems I shall have an escort after all. She recalled the
events of the night before. Thank God.
Anne did not expect
the unsettled feelings that came over her as she descended to
the mess deck, nor the gorge of fear that threatened to choke
her as she passed the sailors at their daily tasks. She began
to shiver.
"Do not be
concerned, madam;" whispered Dr. Maturin, "these men
only wish you good health. See how they salute you? Courage -
a few more steps and we shall be in the Sick Bay."
Indeed they were;
where Anne was confronted with two patients, Dr. Powell, the
loblolly boy and another rather nautical contraption. "Dr.
Powell, what is that?"
Powell looked upon
the mass of ropes and twine with affection. "This apparatus
is named a hanging chair, and it is for you."
Anne eyed the device
with interest, remembering the delights of her cot. It looked
like a rather large hanging basket with a cushion in the middle.
With Stephen's encouragement she discreetly climbed into the
chair. To her relief it was as comfortable as her bed.
Maturin took a chair.
"Excellent, Mrs. Wentworth - you shall do nothing but rest.
Allow Dr. Powell and me to wait upon you."
"But I usually
read to the patients - and I have no book."
"It just so
happens I have this book of poetry: The Deserted Village
by Oliver Goldsmith. "'Tis Irish, to be sure, but I believe
that will answer. Shall I?"
As the fourth bell
rang out Price entered the great cabin. "All is in readiness,
sir."
Wentworth nodded
from his desk. "Show the prisoner in, Mr. Price, along with
Mr. Dawsey. Have the other witnesses stand by."
"Very good,
sir." Within moments two Marines escorted Pyke to a chair
before Wentworth's desk and then took positions against the bulkhead
behind the chair. Lt. Price and Midshipman Dawsey sat on chairs
to the side of the desk. The ship's clerk was at a small table
to the side of the cabin, to record the proceedings. Frederick
looked closely at the accused. Pyke was beaten and bruised; a
broken nose was the most obvious of his injuries. He displayed
an air of both sullenness and defiance - not the contriteness
that might have won him some sympathy, if his judge had been
any other man on Earth.
"Jeremiah Pyke:
you have been brought here to face the very serious charge of
numerous violations of the Articles of War. This inquiry shall
determine if there is any merit to these charges. Those that
fall under the purview of the ship's captain shall be dispensed
with directly. Some of the charges laid here, however, are very
grave and are for a court-martial to decide. Do you have any
questions before we proceed? No? Very well:
"Charge Number
One - that on the night previous you were in a state of inebriation,
in violation of Article Number 2. Charge Number Two - that you
were inebriated due to the fact you were in possession of and
had consumed stolen alcohol, namely port wine, belonging to the
captain of the Laconia, in violation of Article Number
29. Charge Number Three - that on the night previous you did
miss your muster and failed to stand your watch, in violation
of Article Number 26. Charge Number Four - that on the night
previous you assaulted a female passenger, namely the wife of
the ship's captain, in violation of Article Number 21. Charge
Number Five - that during this assault you attempted to rape
this same passenger, which is also a violation of Article Number
21. Charge Number Six - that when caught in the act of attempting
to rape this female passenger you resisted lawful arrest and
struck a superior officer, in violation of Article Number 22.
"I have before
me sworn statements from several witnesses, all men of good character
known to me for long standing. I therefore rule that there is
merit to these charges. Charges Four and Five, the two violations
of Article 21, are capital charges and beyond the jurisdiction
of the ship's captain. I therefore command that you be held over
and placed in chains until we reach the Port of Funchal where
you shall be handed over to the Port Admiral until a court-martial
may be convened to decide your guilt or innocence.
"Charges One
through Three and Six shall be dispensed with at this inquiry.
How do you plead to these charges?"
"I ain't raped
nobody!" spat Puke.
Wentworth turned
to the clerk. "Put down that the defendant pled 'not guilty'.
Mr. Dawsey, do you have anything to add to your sworn affidavit
here?"
"No Sir; I
pledge everything contained in…"
"I ain't gonna
swing for no whore!" cried Pyke.
Wentworth turned
his cold eyes towards the prisoner but said nothing.
"I had a bit
o' drink yesterday, that's so - but I didn't steal it! I found
them bottles in the hold, I did. A man's got a right to take
advantage o' his good fortune, don't he? But them bottles were
tampered with, sir - somethin' took me right off me head. That's
why I were late for muster."
What fantasies
will he come up with next?
"An interesting explanation, Pyke. What do you say to Charge
Number Six - striking an officer?"
"Well, I were
struck first, weren't I?"
"And the reason
you were struck?"
"If'n you know
why, then you know you got the wrong man in the dock. It's that
doctor that should be here - not me!"
"Are you referring
to Doctor Maturin?"
"Yeah, that's
the name o' her lover!"
"Pray continue,
Pyke," Wentworth said in a dangerous tone. Make this
easy for me.
"I ain't sayin'
no more - 'cept you best look to your own!"
Wentworth turned
to Price. "This is not evidence…"
"Look to your
own, I say! I ain't swingin' for no whore! I'd seen her - sneakin'
around to meet him in secret. All the crew knows it! 'Cept she
sees me an' wants ta knew what's it like below decks - she likes
it dirty, you bet. She'll sleep with half the crew afore this
voyage is done - you mark my words! She's no woman - she's a
spawn o' hell, sent to tempt honest men. I weren't doing nothin'
no other man or boy would have done - no sir. You should be thankin'
me that you found out!"
Wentworth looked
at the man in apparent calm; only the twitching of one eye betrayed
the all-consuming rage that flared within him. His hands trembled
only slightly as he gathered the documents before him. Finally
he turned his eyes to the officers beside him.
"Anything to
add, gentleman?" he said in an emotionless voice.
Dawsey was almost
beside himself in anger, while Price was mortified for the Captain
and his wife. "No Sir."
Wentworth turned
back to the would-be rapist. A hundred years ago I could have
legally hung you, my man. Well, there are other ways…
"Jeremiah Pyke: I have found the evidence against you to
be complete and irrefutable. I am ready to pass judgment. You
are found guilty and sentenced to be taken up and receive a dozen
lashes well laid at our soonest convenience…"
Price and Dawsey
sighed; it was the expected sentence.
"…for
Charge Number One. You are found guilty and sentenced to be taken
up and receive a dozen lashes well laid at our soonest convenience
for Charge Number Two..."
The two officers
started - this was not usual. Wentworth's voice droned
on, flogging the man with his words.
"You are found
guilty and sentenced to be taken up and receive a dozen lashes
well laid at our soonest convenience for Charge Number Three.
You are found guilty and sentenced to be taken up and receive
a dozen lashes well laid at our soonest convenience for Charge
Number Six."
Wentworth turned
to his officers. "Lt. Price, call for Lt. Greengard."
A shaken Price opened the door and returned with the Marine.
"Lt. Greengard. The prisoner will be held over and placed
in chains for transport to the Port of Funchal where he shall
be handed over to the Port Admiral until he stands a court-martial
for assault and attempted rape."
"NOO!"
cried Pyke.
"He has been
found guilty of drunkenness, theft, dereliction of duty and striking
a superior officer. He will receive a dozen lashes for each offence.
Punishment shall occur tomorrow. Take this man away."
The Marines seized
the crying man and half-walked, half dragged him out of the cabin.
Price and Dawsey
shared a look as the midshipman left the cabin. William turned
to his captain. "Umm…Captain?"
Wentworth gave him
a look that sent shivers down his spine. "Before you begin,
know this: there will be no discussion about the sentence I have
handed down, sir! Now, what may I do for you, Lieutenant?"
"No questions,
sir."
"How many lashes?"
cried Anne.
"Four dozen,
ma'am," reported the Marine escort. "I just heard from
Lt. Greengard."
"Oh my God…"
said Dr. Powell.
"What do you
mean, Dr. Powell?"
"Well, I do
not wish to say anything against your husband, Mrs. Wentworth…
The crime is certainly heinous…"
"Speak plainly
sir, I beg you."
"I have seen
men gravely hurt by only a dozen lashes… four dozen…"
"Might…kill
him?"
"It is possible;
the man is not in the best of shape."
"But I am well
- nothing happened! Dr. Maturin, tell him!"
"Your husband
knows, Mrs. Wentworth." Stephen replied, hiding his own
shock.
"And he wishes
to flog a drunkard to death - to defend my name? I cannot bear
it! I will speak to him; get him to change his mind!" Anne
vowed.
Stephen and Dr.
Powell shared a look.
"Ah, there
you are my dear," Frederick said as Anne entered the cabin.
"Nowak has just served dinner. I thought Dr. Maturin was
joining us."
"Frederick,
forgive me but I must speak with you. You must not do it!"
"Anne, please;
Dr. Maturin warned that you were not to get excited. Please,
sit down…tell me what troubles you."
Anne sat before
him and took his hands in hers. "Frederick, please do not
kill him."
Wentworth darkened.
"Pyke will receive the punishment he so richly deserves.
Do not trouble yourself over his welfare. You must see
to yourself."
"Frederick
- no! You must not do this! I cannot allow you to murder someone
in my name!"
"I am murdering
no one."
"Four dozen
lashes? Oh, Frederick, what are you thinking?"
"He is fortunate
that the Articles of War do not permit me to hang him from the
highest yard! But fear not; a court-martial in Madeira will see
to that!"
"Frederick
- I am unharmed - I am untouched! Can you not see that
by this unjust revenge you tell the world that I am damaged
goods?"
"Unjust revenge?
He has attacked and attempted to ruin my wife! It is my duty
to see that he is severely punished!"
Anne thought her
reasoned arguments would sway her husband. She knew she was failing,
yet could not stop. "Frederick - he was drunk - out of his
mind! Surely you cannot kill a drunkard!"
Frederick was astonished
at his wife's statement. "You defend him? If you had heard
the lies and slanders he lodged against your name, you would
not do so!"
"What slanders?
What lies could he say about me?"
"He claimed
that you were going to a rendezvous with Dr. Maturin - yes, that
you have been cuckolding me with him and others! And more; he
claimed that you sought his advances!" Why in the world
must I explain this to you? It is as clear as glass!
"No…you…you
can not believe him…"
"Of course
not! But this is the character of the man you are trying
to deliver from just punishment! These are the stories spreading
about the ship! This is what I was trying to warn you of when
I requested that you have an escort. Had you heeded my words,
none of this would have happened!" In his heightened temper
he spoke words that a calmer man would never utter.
"Oh my God…"
Horror gripped Anne.
"Yes, madam;
I am happy to see that you understand."
"Frederick,
this is revenge…this is unholy. This is not about Pyke…"
"Anne…?"
The captain was completely taken aback.
"…This
is about me - my objection to your order. This is pride,
sir!"
"PRIDE?"
Where the hell did that come from? "Madam, you forget
yourself! There is no pride in this! I am captain of this ship!
I must maintain order! We cannot have men go prancing about attacking
women!"
"Which they
would not if the women obeyed your orders!"
"Exactly!"
Frederick's verification
was a lead weight in her heart. "So this is how you see
me: not was your wife, but as a member of your crew!"
"Yes! - No!
- Anne...you twist my words…"
Anne's feelings
were torn asunder. "I am sorry you think so, but what am
I to think, when you treat me so? Am I your wife or am I not?"
"Of course
you are my wife!"
"Then I appeal
to my husband - do not so dishonor me! Show mercy!" Please,
my God, please!
"This is not
about husband and wife! This is for the good of the ship! My
orders stand!"
"If you will
not heed what I say, why am I here?"
"That is a
good question, madam!"
Silence descended
upon the cabin like a thunderclap.
"I see…you
do not want me here." Anne's heart was breaking into a million
pieces.
"Anne...that
is not what I meant…"
"Then what
did you mean, sir?"
"I…Mrs.
Wentworth, you must understand that having a woman on board can
create difficulties. This is not Bath! This is not Kellynch!
You must do as I say or…"
"Or what, sir?"
How can I make
her understand? "How
can I have someone on my ship that will not mind?"
Anne stared at him
in silence, eyes filling with tears.
"Anne! Wait!
I…I misspoke…"
A shattered Anne
could not look him in the face. "I do not think so, sir.
Far be it from me to cause you difficulties. I suppose
I can find another ship in Madeira…return to England…"
"Anne - be
reasonable!"
"I am being
reasonable, Captain Wentworth, and I do not wish to discuss this
matter further. If you would excuse me, I shall retire to my
sleeping quarters. Oh, wait - am I dismissed, Captain?"
Anger and righteousness
swelled in Captain Wentworth's breast. "Yes, Mrs. Wentworth,
you may go."
Wentworth waited
until Anne slammed the door. Damnation! He fled to the
quarterdeck.
Stephen Maturin
sat in his cabin, his dinner untouched on the tray. The thin
canvas walls did little to muffle the voices emanating from the
great cabin. He heard one, then two doors slam in anger. He thought
hard on what to do.
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