Under Enemy Colors by Sean Thomas Russell, Sean Russell, S. Thomas Russell Page A

action on your recent cruise?” Hayden asked, breaking the awkward silence.
    It seemed for a moment that no one would answer—or that each waited for some other to speak.
    “No, sir, Mr Hayden,” Landry said quietly. “We had no luck at all.”
    “It goes that way sometimes,” Hayden said. “You lost a man, all the same, I understand?”
    Again, an uncomfortable moment.
    “Penrith,” Hawthorne said. “Rated able. A good seaman.”
    “I’m sorry to hear it. They found the man that did for him, though?”
    The men glanced one to the other.
    “It’s a subject of some debate, Mr Hayden,” Lord Arthur answered.
    “And what do you think, Wickham?”
    The youthful nobleman’s dimples disappeared as he weighed the evidence, as solemn as a magistrate. “I think the man hanged was innocent, Mr Hayden.”
    The other men shifted uncomfortably.
    “And what say you, Mr Landry?”
    “The captain believed McBride was guilty,” Landry answered, “and I’d never gainsay Captain Hart.”
    “No,” Hawthorne said, “I am sure you wouldn’t.”
    The look Landry gave the marine was not friendly.
    “If it was not this man McBride,” Hayden said, bringing his gaze to bear on Hawthorne, “then, pray, who did for Penrith?”
    “I have no proof, Mr Hayden, only my own suspicions, and it would not be fair to speak those in the event the man is innocent.”
    “Do be careful, Mr Hawthorne,” the sailing master warned. “The captain would not take kindly to such criticism.”
    “Certainly no one here would report gunroom conversation to the captain…” Hayden said, but the silence this brought told him that, indeed, someone would.
     
    After servants cleared the table, Hayden found himself briefly alone while the other officers all saw to one duty or another. He hoped that the dinner had done something to acquaint the officers with his methods and outlook. There was, invariably, a brief period of uneasiness when a new first officer came aboard, and especially so in this case, with the captain away. Both crew and officers would be anxious to comprehend the standards and expectations of the new lieutenant. Many men, he well knew, would rather maintain the most disastrous situation than have change, whereas some smaller number would welcome it. His job was doubly difficult because the standards of Captain Hart were unknown to him and it was the captain of a ship who set the height of the bar that men must jump, not the first lieutenant.
    Griffiths emerged from his cabin and nodded to the new lieutenant. Thin-boned and narrow-faced, the doctor stood a hand taller than Hayden, but two or three stone lighter. Prematurely grey, for he could not have been much over thirty, he appeared almost always serious, his scholarly demeanour seldom altering, even when he made a jest, which he did not infrequently.
    “I feel rather foolish,” Hayden confessed, “pressing wine upon Mr Barthe when he is a temperance man.”
    “No need for concern. It was the duty of his messmates to advise you, but we were remiss. Mr Barthe is not thrown out by such small things. He has been sober now these seven years, and shows no signs of returning to his former life of dissipation. You will find him a thorough, responsible officer, I believe.”
    “I am certain of it.”
    Griffiths regarded him a moment. “Our sailing master’s name is unknown to you?”
    “Indeed, I had never heard it before stepping aboard.”
    The surgeon took a seat across the table, leaning forward on arrowhead elbows that he might speak quietly. “Mr Barthe’s story is not a happy one, I fear. You see, he was once a young lieutenant of some promise in the King’s Navy, but was court-martialled. His ship was wrecked and though there was some evidence of incompetence by the captain, because some few aboard claimed Mr Barthe drunk at the time, he was convicted for dereliction of duty. He claims it is untrue. Unfortunately, at least for his family, that was not the greatest