Captain Seagrave account for the Lieutenant's charge?”
“He is charity itself in speaking of Eustace Chessyre. Tom will have it the fellow mistook him for another, in all the smoke and madness of the boarding. Chessyre was mistaken in his account, Tom believes, and will own as much during the course of the proceedings.”
“Is a recantation likely, Fly?”
My brother sighed heavily and dashed a spate of rain from his cockade. “Certainly Seagrave's superiors do not live in expectation of it. There was that in Admiral Bertie's looks, when he spoke of posting me into the Stella, that cannot urge me to be sanguine. The Admiral should never have imparted so much of a confidential nature did he not find the case against Seagrave compelling in the extreme.”
“But surely there must be someone besides the Lieutenant who might testify as to what occurred!” I cried. “I cannot believe the two men to have stood alone on the French quarterdeck!”
“The rest of the boarding party being engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Jane—or in striking the colours— there was naught but confusion. You cannot have a proper idea of such an action, my dear—the great clouds of black smoke from the guns, carrying across the decks and obscuring sight; the cries of the wounded underfoot; the shouting of men made savage by death, and spurred into ferocity. When all is conducted on a platform that is constantly pitching, from the wash of the sea and a lower deck fast taking on water, you may understand that no one among the boarding party can swear to what might have happened. They were taken up with the business at hand—averting a pike in die gullet or an axe in the skull.”
“Of course,” I murmured. “And so it is Seagrave's word against his lieutenant's.”
“So it would seem,” Frank replied grimly. “But I mean to learn from Chessyre what cause he finds, to fire such a shot across Seagrave's bow! His commanding officer, and an old friend, too! He should be stripped of his rank and his uniform!”
I HAD NO DOUBT THAT FRANK SHOULD SWIFTLY SECURE the Lieutenant's direction, from among his naval acquaintance in Southampton, and that the morning might find him in full possession of Chessyre's history before it had grown very much in the telling. But I hoped, as I drained my tea, that Frank had not gone in search of the man alone. The Lieutenant's actions argued for a desperation of character—and if Tom Seagrave had not murdered the Frenchman, it seemed entirely possible that Chessyre had.
1 Jane refers here to characters in Elinor and Marianne and First Impressions, which had not yet achieved their final manuscript forms as Sense and Sensibility (published 1811) and Pride and Prejudice (published 1813).— Editors note.
Chapter 4
A Morning Call
24 February 1807,
cont.
~
I COULD NOT LONG ENJOY THE LUXURY OF LYING AMIDST the bedclothes, however much I might sneeze or Jenny scold: for I had recollected that it was Tuesday—and that we expected our dear friend and future companion in Castle Square, Martha Lloyd, before the morning should be out.
Martha is the eldest sister of my brother James's wife, Mary, but as unlike that shrewish article as the human frame is to a butter churn” She has formed the dearest part of my acquaintance for most of my life, having spent her youth in close concert with the Austens in Hampshire. Martha is the daughter of a clergyman, and is cousin to the Fowles of Kintbury—the very Fowles I might once have called family, had my sister Cassandra's betrothed survived his voyage to the West Indies so many years ago. 1
Martha's younger sister, Eliza, being the wife of the Reverend Fulwar-Craven Fowle, Martha might consider the vicarage at Kintbury as very nearly a second home; and thither she had repaired for the Christmas season. Her mother having passed away not long after my father's death, Martha may claim no other home, and has consented to form a part of our Southampton
“He is charity itself in speaking of Eustace Chessyre. Tom will have it the fellow mistook him for another, in all the smoke and madness of the boarding. Chessyre was mistaken in his account, Tom believes, and will own as much during the course of the proceedings.”
“Is a recantation likely, Fly?”
My brother sighed heavily and dashed a spate of rain from his cockade. “Certainly Seagrave's superiors do not live in expectation of it. There was that in Admiral Bertie's looks, when he spoke of posting me into the Stella, that cannot urge me to be sanguine. The Admiral should never have imparted so much of a confidential nature did he not find the case against Seagrave compelling in the extreme.”
“But surely there must be someone besides the Lieutenant who might testify as to what occurred!” I cried. “I cannot believe the two men to have stood alone on the French quarterdeck!”
“The rest of the boarding party being engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Jane—or in striking the colours— there was naught but confusion. You cannot have a proper idea of such an action, my dear—the great clouds of black smoke from the guns, carrying across the decks and obscuring sight; the cries of the wounded underfoot; the shouting of men made savage by death, and spurred into ferocity. When all is conducted on a platform that is constantly pitching, from the wash of the sea and a lower deck fast taking on water, you may understand that no one among the boarding party can swear to what might have happened. They were taken up with the business at hand—averting a pike in die gullet or an axe in the skull.”
“Of course,” I murmured. “And so it is Seagrave's word against his lieutenant's.”
“So it would seem,” Frank replied grimly. “But I mean to learn from Chessyre what cause he finds, to fire such a shot across Seagrave's bow! His commanding officer, and an old friend, too! He should be stripped of his rank and his uniform!”
I HAD NO DOUBT THAT FRANK SHOULD SWIFTLY SECURE the Lieutenant's direction, from among his naval acquaintance in Southampton, and that the morning might find him in full possession of Chessyre's history before it had grown very much in the telling. But I hoped, as I drained my tea, that Frank had not gone in search of the man alone. The Lieutenant's actions argued for a desperation of character—and if Tom Seagrave had not murdered the Frenchman, it seemed entirely possible that Chessyre had.
1 Jane refers here to characters in Elinor and Marianne and First Impressions, which had not yet achieved their final manuscript forms as Sense and Sensibility (published 1811) and Pride and Prejudice (published 1813).— Editors note.
Chapter 4
A Morning Call
24 February 1807,
cont.
~
I COULD NOT LONG ENJOY THE LUXURY OF LYING AMIDST the bedclothes, however much I might sneeze or Jenny scold: for I had recollected that it was Tuesday—and that we expected our dear friend and future companion in Castle Square, Martha Lloyd, before the morning should be out.
Martha is the eldest sister of my brother James's wife, Mary, but as unlike that shrewish article as the human frame is to a butter churn” She has formed the dearest part of my acquaintance for most of my life, having spent her youth in close concert with the Austens in Hampshire. Martha is the daughter of a clergyman, and is cousin to the Fowles of Kintbury—the very Fowles I might once have called family, had my sister Cassandra's betrothed survived his voyage to the West Indies so many years ago. 1
Martha's younger sister, Eliza, being the wife of the Reverend Fulwar-Craven Fowle, Martha might consider the vicarage at Kintbury as very nearly a second home; and thither she had repaired for the Christmas season. Her mother having passed away not long after my father's death, Martha may claim no other home, and has consented to form a part of our Southampton
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