Under the

Broad Pennant

Book 3 in the Anthony Carter Sea Adventures

By

Peter Argonis

 

©2009, 2026

All Rights Reserved by the Author

 

Summary

This is the third instalment of the Anthony Carter Sea Adventures, showing our hero as commodore and squadron commander in the Mediterranean and in Caribbean waters. The first six chapters are revised from the original In The Navy, but starting with Chapter 7, Anthony's story in the last years of the Napoleonic Wars and during the War of 1812 is told.

After almost losing his ship, the Asia third-rate, Anthony Carter is exonerated and appointed as commodore of a small squadron, to escort a Spanish courtier to Cartagena de India, there to assume the governorship. Also accompanying him is Harriet as chaperone for the young Princess Isabella, who is slated to marry the future governor, much against her will. Defying the Spanish exile leadership, she marries the young Prince of Hohenstein, Anthony's flag captain, causing troubles for Anthony.

To hush up the diplomatic debacle, Anthony's squadron is sent to the Catalan coast of Spain, where he proves himself as successful commander. Once relieved from his Mediterranean exile, he enjoys being with Harriet and his children again, until he is called to serve at the Admiralty. His term there does not last long, but after the United States declare war on the United Kingdom, Anthony is appointed commodore again and sent to augment the British forces on the Jamaica Station, his old home, from where he fights the Americans, Dutch pirates, Spanish American juntas, and even the last French frigate on the open seas, not to mention the enmity of a powerful colonial governor. Finally returned to England and a quiet life, the return of the Emperor Napoleon to the French throne forces him to return to his duties.

Contents

Summary

Chapter 1 — A Clerical Error

Chapter 2 — The Princess and The Ogre

Chapter 3 — An Elegant Solution

Chapter 4 — Old Haunts

Chapter 5 — Exile

Chapter 6 — The Final Battle?

Chapter 7 — A Gentleman of Leisure

Chapter 8 — Busying Himself

Chapter 9 — Staff Officer

Chapter 10 — Country Life

Chapter 11 — Diplomacy and Blunt Force

Chapter 12 — The Trusk Sisters

Chapter 13 — No Mercy

Chapter 14 — Change

Chapter 15 — Cruising

Chapter 16 — Misconduct

Chapter 17 — The Furieux

Chapter 18 — Hard Work and Sheer Luck

Chapter 19 — La Guaira

Chapter 20 — A New Task

Chapter 21 — Family

Chapter 22 — Lieutenant Governor

Chapter 23 — Napoleon II.

Acknowledgements

Appendix 1: Sail plan of a full-rigged ship

Appendix 2: Ranks in the Royal Navy

Appendix 3: Administrative Structure of the Royal Navy ca. 1800

Appendix 4: Rated and unrated ships and vessels

Appendix 5: Watches and times

Appendix 6: Gun salutes

Appendix 7: Nautical terms

Appendix 8: The Articles of War of 1757

 

Chapter 1 — A Clerical Error

London, March 1809

For the third time, Captain Sir Anthony Carter was perusing the order he had received that morning, trying to read between the lines.

—————

Sir Anthony Carter, KB,

Captain, R.N.

Sir, you are hereby requested and required to give testimony before a Court of Inquiry on the 20th instant, on board HMS Asia, concerning the circumstances that led to the grounding of HMS Asia on the 24th of January, off Santander, Spain. You are furthermore requested and required to present said Court of Inquiry with any such evidence as will shed light on the events on January 24th.

Wm Wellesley-Pole,

Secretary to Their Lordships

—————

Tony smirked. A court of inquiry was only a step shy of a court martial, and quite often it was a prelude to one. They had made it back in the damaged Asia ship of the line with all men at the pumps, had even reached Portsmouth, against the earlier plans to seek safety in Falmouth. The dry docks were all busy, but it was decided by the port admiral to float the half-finished HMS Malta, Asia’s sister ship, out of the dock. In all haste, Asia's ordnance and ammunition stores were removed, and her water casks emptied, lightening her by over 600 tons before she was docked.

Once the dock was drained, Tony had viewed the damage himself. It was not pretty. Over a length of twenty-two feet the copper sheathing and the outer layer of planks had been ripped off. It was only owed to the excellent workmanship of the French shipwrights that the inner planks had held. Three of the starboard side knees had also cracked, causing the groaning noises of the hull in heavy seas.

The work was halted then, and a commission was appointed to assess the damage and to make recommendations for Asia's future. After weighing the repair costs against the value of the ship it was finally decided to refit her. She was paid off, however, and effective the 1^st of March, Tony was on half-pay for the first time in his Navy career. Asia's crew was transferred to receiving ships to await their next posting. There was nothing Tony could do in Portsmouth, and he travelled to his home at High Matcham, Berkshire, to await the next stages of the drama.

He was a restless man, though, worrying about his immediate future. Repercussions were more than likely given the damage Asia had sustained. Sitting out in the countryside, he was cut off from information and that worried him. Thus, he and Harriet decided to open their city house in Camden Court, London, where he would be closer to where decisions were made. It was the first time that he ever spent a night in the house which had been the hated Rupert Palmer’s, his wife Harriet’s first husband, and this fact unsettled him further.

Now he had to face a court of inquiry. His father-in-law, Admiral Lambert, had tried to calm him, telling him that such a procedure was inevitable. It was also true that he bore no responsibility for sailing the Bay of Santander in the middle of a violent winter storm. That was for Maynard to explain. However, the condition of his ship was his responsibility, and that included the sails. Ultimately, the failure of the mizzen topsail was the cause for the grounding. Could he have prevented that? Had there been time to control the condition of the canvas?

True, he had planned to give up his command, to devote more time to Harriet and the children, but to be beached in infamy would be an altogether different story.

His one consolation was his wife Harriet. She was finely attuned to her husband’s feelings and anxieties, and she had done her very best to distract him. Every night she had given herself to him, letting him know of the unconditional love she felt for him. In her soothing embrace Tony had found some peace of mind. Yet, during the next days, she would not be able to help him for he had to travel to Portsmouth to face the Court of Inquiry.

A “friend”, a fellow captain handling the defence, would not be required, as this was not a court martial. Still, he had received encouraging notes from various places. Rear Admiral Maynard, his former squadron commander, had given Tony a copy of his own report in which he stressed the tactical necessity for leaving Santander and the unexpectedly strong gale force winds which they encountered in the outer bay. It would also help that seven of Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cotton’s ships had suffered severe damage in the same storm. Only, they had sailed the open sea, and the damages were restricted to masts and rigging.

“Do not fret, my dearest,” Harriet’s warm voice interrupted his train of thoughts. “The court of inquiry is only held to fully exonerate you. I have that from my mother, and you know how well she is connected.”

His mother in law, Lady Lambert, was the wife of Admiral of the White Sir Richard Lambert, and befriended important men in the ministry and even at court.

Tony forced himself to smile. “I know, believe me, but such courts can be tricky things. True, I want to take a leave, but I don’t want to be beached under a cloud.”

“Darling, the court will comprise senior captains. Do you earnestly believe that they will hold you accountable for storm damage? That shoe can be on the other foot in no time. I cannot believe that they would want to set such a precedent.”

That made more sense than any other thing he had thought up. His smile was genuine when he put his arms around Harriet. “I have a very prudent wife. Be patient with me when I have self doubts.”

“I have them too, but as a rule, I do not doubt you,” Harriet smiled back, relieved over his reaction. “Oh, we shall have a visitor for dinner. Again.”

Tony suppressed a groan. ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ he thought. As it had turned out, the Spanish Envoy in London was reluctant to accept the Princess Isabella, whom the squadron had rescued from the advancing French troops, as his house guest. Tony could understand that now. He had offered her temporary accommodations — with Harriet’s enthusiastic agreement — and now not an evening went by without some Spanish expatriate grandee inviting himself to dine with the princess. Those dinners were invariably stiff affairs, with a constant need for translations and explanations. Tony did not begrudge the young princess who had shown herself to be of a very pleasant and amiable disposition, but he resented many of her countrymen.

“Who is it today?” he asked listlessly, and his worst fears became true.

“The Conde de Alcalosa,” Harriet smirked.

She shared Tony’s dislike of the man. A little over forty years old, portly and with the face of a degenerate, he showed an interest in the young girl that was revolting given her youth and beauty. Even so, he was a leading if self-appointed voice among the Spanish expatriate community in London and slated for ‘greater things’ as Harriet had heard. Now Tony's groan was open.

"Not him again!" he protested sotto voce. "I swear, Harriet: Another of his tactless remarks to you, and I'll carve him up like the fat Christmas goose he is!"

On the occasion of his last visit, the Conde had remarked that Harriet was hardly a fitting dueña for a royal princess, given her low birth. Tony had not been present then and had only heard about the remark second hand, or he would have issued a challenge and let the man have a taste of the finest Toledo steel, diplomatic complications be damned.

"Let me ask Isabella whether she really appreciates his visits. Perhaps we can claim that she is indisposed at his next call."

That was what they settled on, and in the evening Tony and Harriet had to bear the presence of the Conde. Thankfully, the princess claimed indisposition immediately after the main course and the Conde left shortly thereafter. Once he had left, the princess came back down and asked for a talk.

"My dear Sir Anthony and Lady Carter, I must apologise for the inconvenience I am causing. I have perceived your lack of enthusiasm for the Conde's frequent visits. I expect, however, that my guardian and uncle, Don Eduardo Villa y Cortez, will have me join him in Colombia. Since the Conde has been appointed by His Majesty's Crown Council to succeed Don Alonso as governor of Cartagena, his suit for me will not be opposed by my uncle."

She looked anything but enthusiastic and Tony fought the temptation to offer a comforting embrace to this young girl who was destined to be a pawn for her uncle's ambitions. Harriet had no such compunctions and she hugged the princess with feeling.

"This is not to offend you, my dear, but should you decide to refuse any such schemes you can count on our support. I was married against my will once, and no girl should suffer such a violation."

"It is my duty," the princess said sadly. "It has been explained to me by my dueña. I was waiting for the summons in León when the French approached. My flight to Gijón was but a deferral of what must happen."

"So you were promised to the Conde already?" Tony asked.

"I did not know him then. Now that I do ... I fear that my preferences have no bearing."

"Regardless, Your Highness can always claim our hospitality," Tony said with emphasis, totally forgetting in this moment that his own position may well be in peril in a few days.

Harriet cast him a grateful smile and nodded her assent. "My husband speaks for me, too."

The young princess smiled shyly and blushed. "You have been gracious hosts. My poor mother died when I was but a small girl and I have barely a clear memory of her. Living with you in the last weeks, Lady Carter, has given me a notion of what I have missed."

With that, the girl retired, leaving Tony and Harriet at a loss of how to handle the situation.

—————

At least, the Conde did not call upon them again during the following days. Three days later, Tony took a coach to Portsmouth, two days ahead of the court of inquiry. He lodged in the George inn, not far from the dockyard and spent most of the next day on board the Asia going over the logbook, the written orders, the charts and over the duplicates of Maynard's reports. Maynard had been absolutely loyal to his flag captain, making it clear that he had ordered to sail from Santander and that he had weighed the weather conditions against the necessity to leave the port before it might fall to the French.

Tony also went over the late Mister Chalk's recordings — the 1st lieutenant had fallen overboard when they had their near grounding — and the minute details of when the sailmaker had inspected which sail for rot and tear. All this was listed in painstaking detail in poor Chalk's clear handwriting. The mizzen topsail had indeed been inspected during the evacuation of Moore's troops from Corunna, and no damage had been detected.

Tony went over the charts again, even using his magnifying glass, but there was not a hint of the submerged rocks in the passage. Gradually, he relaxed, arriving at the conviction that no blame could be attached to him. There were examples for captains who had run aground through no fault of their own; even Admiral Pellew — arguably the best sailor of whom England could boast — had run his Arethusa aground in '98 or '99, barely bringing her to port with all hands at the pumps.

Tony spent the evening in the common room of the George, studiously avoiding any places where he might run into the captains who would sit on the Court of Inquiry. He avoided any ardent spirits that evening, contenting himself with small ale. John Little watched him like a hawk all evening, but Tony had decided to stop worrying and he calmly read a book in his room by the light of an oil lamp until it was time to go to bed.

All reassuring facts aside, he was still nervous when he prepared himself the next morning. He forced himself to eat his breakfast in leisure, he drank three cups of the excellent tea the George offered, and he made like he was studying the morning papers. His inner excitement grew, however, and it cost him a great deal of effort to walk calmly towards the dockyard.

The pipes of the anchor watch shrilled when he stepped through the port, just as it was proper, and a sergeant of the marines bade him wait in the chart room. He could hear the pipes when the members of the court arrived and it was only shortly after that he was called into the after cabin where the court had assembled on one side of the table which Tony had purchased three years ago.

The court was headed by a vice-admiral, Sir Winston Piedmont, a veteran of the West Indian station, currently on half-pay, and likely retired from active service. He also recognised Captain Drummond whom he knew from his time in the Medusa. The other three captains were unknown to him, all senior to him, and all but one without current command. Piedmont started the questioning.

"Sir Anthony, we are here to establish the exact circumstances under which HMS Asia ran aground off Santander. We are given to understand by the written testimony of Sir William Maynard that he gave specific orders to leave port, in spite of the adverse weather conditions. Do you wish to comment, Sir Anthony?"

"Sir William made the decision, Sir Winston, but I agreed with his reasoning wholeheartedly."

"In spite of the raging storm?" Captain Drummond asked.

"Sir, there was no way of telling how long the Spanish would be able to hold the French from taking Santander. Once the place was in French hands, it would have been almost impossible to escape from the inner bay."

"Very well, Sir Anthony," Piedmont nodded. "Now for the situation in which you decided to navigate the narrow passage between the island and the coast line. In your report you stated that the mizzen tops'l¹ gave way. Had there been any indication of its weakening?"

"No, Sir Winston. As stated in the late Mister Chalk's records, the sailmaker had inspected the sail in question during our brief stay at Corunna. There was no indication that it might be damaged."

"Very well, Sir Anthony. Now, with the leverage of the mizzen tops'l lost, you could not keep your intended course, is that true?"

"Yes, Sir Winston. We had to sail close to the wind to pass the island safely on the windward side. To go about was now impossible without the leverage of the mizzen tops'l and there was not enough leeway to wear ship. I decided then to sail the passage instead. I planned to set the mizzen t’gallant² in the shelter of the island."

Now, Drummond spoke up. "Sir Anthony, did you study the charts of the entire bay, including that passage, before you sailed from Santander?"

There was a certain sharpness in that question, and the other members of the court looked at Drummond with surprise.

Tony had his answer pat, however. "Indeed, Sir, I did. The chart indicated sufficient depth and no rocks or shallows were charted. I had marked it as an emergency route.”

"Yet, Sir Anthony, you ran your ship against a rock. Is it possible that you may have overlooked the marked rocks in your chart?"

Thank God he had studied the charts again the day before, Tony thought. He could respond with decisiveness, therefore. "No, Sir, there was no oversight on my part. The chart showed no submerged rocks in the passage."

Drummond bent sideways and produced a rolled-up sea chart. He unfolded it on the table and looked at Tony accusingly.

"Well, Sir Anthony, perhaps you can be so kind and tell us what you can see on this Admiralty chart of the Bay of Santander?"

Tony stepped forward, nonplussed. After one look at the chart, however, he felt his blood leave his face. There, in black ink on Drummond's chart, were four elongated shapes in the passage, indicated by dotted lines and suggesting submerged rocks. The blood that had left his face returned with a vengeance, colouring Tony's face in the deep purple of anger. Again! Again he was the victim of an incomplete sea chart. With an effort, he swallowed his anger.

"Sir, if you'll allow me to bring my own chart? I distinctly remember that my chart did not show those rocks."

"How is that possible, Sir Anthony?" Drummond asked impatiently.

"I do not know, Sir. I know that I re-examined the chart just yesterday afternoon, and I found no markings for those rocks, Sir."

Before Drummond could respond, Piedmont made a pacifying gesture. "Gentlemen, please! Sir Anthony, kindly produce your sea chart so that we may resolve this point."

It took Tony only a minute to find the chart and to return. With an unintended flourish he spread the chart side by side with Drummond's.

"What all due respect, Sir, would you please return the favour and examine my chart?"

The heads of five senior officers bent over the offending sea chart. Now it was Drummond's turn to blush. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat before he answered.

"Sir Anthony, my most profuse apologies! I would not believe it but for the evidence right before my eyes. How is this possible? The entire passage looks like it was drawn from memory. The promontory that should be here, it is lacking, too! This is revolting!"

"Indeed it is, gentlemen," Piedmont concurred. "Does this settle your concerns, Captain Drummond?"

"Indeed it does, Sir Winston. Again, my apologies, gentlemen!"

Piedmont had a final question. "Sir Anthony, was this chart amongst the package you received from the Admiralty when you fitted out Asia?"

"Yes, Sir. If I may, here is the name of the drawing room supervisor," Tony answered, pointing at the painstakingly executed signature.

"Quite, quite," Piedmont muttered. "I shall keep this as evidence and to prevent its future use. I shall sign a receipt for you, Sir Anthony."

"Thank you, Sir Winston," Tony answered, feeling a great relief.

The mood in the cabin had changed profoundly. For the next ten or fifteen minutes, the court members asked more questions, mostly concerning the casualties on board and the efforts to make the ship seaworthy again, but then they ran out of issues. Tony was excused and asked to return an hour after noon, for the Court was certain to have finished its inquiry by then. Leaving the cabin, Tony saw Mister Prince, the sailmaker Mister Edwards, and the bosun, Mister Marsh, the latter with his broken arm in splints. He just nodded to them, as more was not proper, and left the ship.

Once on the quay, he exhaled deeply. He could be certain now to be exonerated by the Court of Inquiry. The cloud over his head was lifting, and his step was light as he headed for a coffee house. Now he could really read the newspapers, sipping an excellent coffee and even indulging in a piece of honey cake. The first cup was followed by a second and then a third, and then it was time for lunch. A half crown poorer, Tony left the coffee house at a quarter to one and headed back to the dockyard.

There was no delay either; he was led into the after cabin immediately, and Sir Winston gave him a friendly smile. Tony stood erect in front of the table whilst Sir Winston put on a pair of reading glasses and shuffled a few papers. Then he looked first at Tony and then at the papers and began to read from the top sheet.

“Court of Inquiry over the grounding, on January 24^th, of HMS Asia, off Santander, Spain, held on March 20^th on board HMS Asia.

“Sirs, this Court of Inquiry has reached the following conclusions. The grounding of HMS Asia on the 24^th of January 1809 was due to an unfortunate combination of unforeseeable damage in the rigging, extremely adverse weather conditions and third party negligence. The loss of the mizzen topsail of HMS Asia was an unforeseeable incident and not due to negligence on the part of Asia's captain, her officers, or her crew. The severity of the weather encountered upon leaving Santander Bay was such that sails and rigging were under most severe strain and very little options remained for her captain once the mizzen topsail was damaged. In addition, a negligently drawn sea chart failed to show the navigational hazards that HMS Asia was facing, leaving her captain and sailing master unaware of said hazards.

“This Court of Inquiry gives the following recommendations. Firstly, no blame can be attached to captain, officers and crew of HMS Asia, who conducted themselves according to the best traditions of the Royal Navy. Secondly, we recommend a speedy reappointment of captain and officers of HMS Asia. Thirdly, efforts should be made to improve the supervision in the chart drawing rooms at the Admiralty to avoid future mishaps of similar magnitude.”

Piedmont took off his reading glasses.

"I thank you for your patience and testimony, Sir Anthony. You are excused."

That was it! The solemn faces split in smiles and Tony had his hands shaken by all involved. Captain Drummond was still uncomfortable, but Tony shrugged it off.

"Sir, had the situation been reversed, I would have asked the very same questions."

"That is kind of you to say, Sir Anthony," Drummond answered, obviously relieved. "I hope to meet you again under less officious circumstances."

"If that means without me almost losing a ship, I should be pleased, Sir."

"Well, this outcome should clear you for your coming tasks," Piedmont said ominously.

"Sir?" Tony asked, feeling a coming apprehension.

"I probably shouldn't tell you, but you'll know in a few days anyway. The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs has put in a request to have you seconded for a delicate semi-diplomatic mission. Something about that princess you picked up in Spain. Let us hope she'll be better luck than the first time."

Tony swallowed whilst he put two and two together. The princess was to join her guardian in Colombia, whilst her intended groom, the Conde, was slated as successor to Don Alonso in Cartagena. He would have to sail them to Cartagena. He would see Maria again. Harriet would be distressed, and he would be confused and insecure. It seemed that recently all his past affairs were catching up with him. He shook himself out of the musing.

"Oh, I see, Sir Winston. I don't have a command though. Asia will take a while in revision."

"I recommend you take a look around the dockyard. You'll see a fine ship, just out of the dry dock from refitting. Then again, the French do build excellent hulls."

"I shall do that, Sir Winston. My thanks for the heads-up, too." Tony sighed.

When he stepped on the quarterdeck, he let his eyes scan the harbour for men-of-war. There! Four cable lengths into the inner harbour lay Clyde, his old frigate, the finest ship he had ever sailed. She shipped her lower masts only, and her freshly painted hull was gleaming in the early spring sun. This would truly be a journey into his past.

Tony shook his head, speaking to himself under his breath. "Harriet will not be happy.”

—————

"I am so happy!" Harriet gushed as soon as Tony alighted from the single horse cab. She must have been ready and waiting for him, for she was dressed for the cool weather and wore street shoes. "Anita told me about the plans. It is such a great honour for you, and now I can even accompany you!"

“You … How …?" was all that Tony managed to stammer in response.

Harriet smiled smugly. "You were selected to convey Isabella to Cartagena, and in your old ship, the Clyde, imagine that! Anita has it from her make-believe paramour. Seeing that you are friends with the governor and his wife, they think that you are ideal for this task. Also, Isabella has asked for me to accompany her as her dueña because her insufferable suitor will be travelling with us. He will replace your friend as governor, it was decided."

Tony had spent another two days in Portsmouth, having his personal effects recovered from the Asia's cabin and cabin storage. Now, if Harriet's information was true — and it matched Piedmont's gossip — he would soon need that gear again.

"You will accompany me, I mean the princess?" Finally, Tony was able to speak coherently.

"Yes. Mother has volunteered to look after the children. I believe that Anita put her up to it. Anita knows that I would be uncomfortable with you travelling to meet your Spanish lady again."

That brought a smile to Tony's lips. "You will watch over me I take it?"

"You had better believe that," Harriet replied with mock sternness. "Now, my dear, do come in! Oh, dear, I almost forgot: the information is already out that you were completely exonerated by the court of inquiry. My felicitations, darling. You must be relieved."

"I suppose I am. Such courts are always tricky, but all the issues were resolved."

They went inside. The house still felt strange to Tony but he had to acknowledge that it was beautifully located and offered ample space. Had he bought a house himself it would have been on a less grand scale, but there was nothing wrong with this city house other than the memories it might hold for Harriet. However, even Harriet was comfortable now. She had told him that whilst there was the association with Rupert Palmer, there were also the fond memories of the time spent with Lucy and Moira that balanced the emotions she felt. It certainly was a more than adequate home for a captain and Knight of the Bath.

The table was laid for the noon meal which they took together with the princess and their stepdaughter. Little Richard — at two and a half years — was not yet ready for the dinner table but Emily already mastered her manners just fine. Jenny was in Portsmouth to be closer to Eric Johnsen, who was temporarily assigned to a receiving ship together with the rest of Asia's crew. Jonathan was in London, having asked for a leave. His share of the prize moneys would help him rebuild his practice and Lucy was happy to have her husband back. The meal was taken in good spirits although Tony found the princess less than enthusiastic over her prospects.

—————

Over the next days, Tony studiously avoided calling upon the Admiralty on his own initiative. He was exonerated, his command of Asia was over, and he was in no hurry to find employment again. In fact, staying with Harriet suited him just perfectly for the time being. Still, he was only granted a week of leisure at home before he received a summons to the Admiralty. He was received there by Mister Wellesley-Pole, another Wellesley brother who currently served as Secretary to the Admiralty.

Tony wore an everyday uniform, but with the finest white breeches and silk stockings, and his shoe buckles were of solid bullion. He was every bit the successful senior captain when he entered Wellesley-Pole's sitting room. His host rose politely to welcome him.

"Ah, Sir Anthony, how nice of you to come on such short notice. My brother, Sir Arthur, charged me to convey his greetings and respect. You come highly recommended, Captain."

"Thank you, Sir. I feel the greatest respect for Sir Arthur, and I consider it a privilege to have co-operated with him."

"You say the nicest things, my dear Captain. May I also express my regret over the dreadful affair of the faulty sea charts? As a matter of fact, we shall have to re-issue all charts drawn in the past four years. One of the clerks was suffering from bad eyesight, it would seem, and his supervisor was not up to his responsibility either. Be assured that we have implemented safeguards against any future repeats."

"That is indeed reassuring, Sir," Tony answered. "It was a costly error for the Navy."

“Indeed,” Wellesley-Pole sighed. “Now for the reason of your visit: His Excellency, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, has requested your service for a semi-diplomatic mission. You are friendly with his Most Catholic Majesty's governor of Cartagena?"

"I was able to ingratiate him to me, back in '04. He gifted me this sword, Sir."

"He must be very grateful, indeed, Sir Anthony. Now, your friend will be succeeded by the Conde de Alcalosa who currently resides in London. The Spanish exile Crown Council has asked for transportation to effect this transition, and you, Captain, were selected to convey the Conde to his destination. For this purpose, it was decided to give you command of His Majesty's ship Clyde which you should know well."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Now, their Lordships are of course aware of the fact that you are far too senior to command a mere fifth-rate. We must also consider your position when you arrive at Cartagena. It was therefore decided to give you the rank of a Commodore First Class for this mission. Captain His Serene Highness The Prince of Hohenstein will command the ship. His Majesty's government decided to have him gazetted, but Their Lordships feel more comfortable if he gets acquainted with his new responsibilities under your able guidance. The sloops of war Kite and Thetis will sail with you and transport part of the Conde's train."

"Indeed, Sir," Tony sighed, and Wellesley-Poly grinned openly.

"Do not complain, my dear Sir Anthony. You owe this constellation your new rank. Now, as for the crew you … His Serene Highness will need, he will be allowed to assemble it from Asia's crew."

That was another sign of the patronage the young prince enjoyed. Assembling a crew was a brutal chore for freshly appointed captains, but the Admiralty just gave him a pass on this ornery task.

"I see, Sir. Things will be crowded in Clyde."

"Not to worry, Sir Anthony. This was taken care of during her refit. She is destined as a lead ship for frigate squadrons, and the dockyard expanded the living quarters aft. Now, your written orders will reach you in the next days. I heard that Lady Carter will be accompanying you, or rather, the princess."

“The Princess asked for it, Sir," Tony said in response. "When should we sail?"

"I'd say, a month from now. I should also tell you to be diplomatic around the Conde. From what I understand, he is not the easiest person with whom to have dealings."

"I shall handle him, Sir. As a matter of fact, he has thrice been a visitor at our house."

"Then, Captain, I certainly commiserate with you. Just one piece of advice — the Conde will be a passenger and guest, not more. The Royal Navy is doing him a favour by transporting him and his intended to Cartagena. Their Lordships are not overly enthusiastic over dispatching a precious frigate for this purpose, so he had better behave accordingly."

Tony allowed himself a grim smile. "It will be an interesting experience to be sure."

Chapter 2 — The Princess and The Ogre

January 1809

Clyde had left the dry dock two weeks before, after a thorough overhaul. She was a sound ship, but her bottom had been in dire need of a new copper sheathing. Whilst her main deck armament — twenty-eight 24-pounder bronze guns — had been fitted with improved flintlocks, the sixteen 9-pounder guns on quarterdeck and forecastle were mostly replaced by 32-pounder carronades giving her an exceptional firepower for a frigate. Only two long nine-pounder guns remained as bow chasers.

She had also been given a rebuild of her aft section, with added cabins and an enlarged main cabin. She was intended as a flagship for frigate squadrons and the refitting added the necessary quarters for a flag officer or commodore. Therefore, she was also ideally suited to convey a royal personage to her destination. The only drawback was that first lieutenant and sailing master had their cabins on the main deck, close to the companionways to the quarterdeck, and the wardroom was now less roomy.

Tony had received his orders two days before and he was back in Portsmouth to confer with Acting Captain His Serene Highness the Prince of Hohenstein. The freshly appointed captain had not yet seen his posting in the Naval Gazette — hence the acting rank — but he was certainly not dawdling. He had picked officers and crew from the Asia's complement and his main problem had been to turn down those who could not find a berth in the smaller ship. Clyde was a frigate — a big one at that and fast — and thus considered one of the sweetest raisins in the big pudding of the Royal Navy. To serve in her counted as a privilege.

Tony found his new quarters more than adequate. As commodore, he had the newly built port side cabin. The prince would normally have the use of its starboard counterpart, but this cabin was now reserved for the Princess Isabella. Two more cabins had been built: one would be occupied by Hohenstein and the other, smaller cabin, by the conde. The latter was a ranking passenger, but he was not yet a governor, and in a Navy ship, the squadron commander came first. The princess was from an allied royal house and the prince was a ruling monarch in HM ministry's eyes. Hence, the conde would be the low man. Tony did not expect him to accept that easily.

Tony's orders were to convey the conde and his advisers to Cartagena where he would take office as the new governor. He was also to transport the princess safely into the hands of her uncle. There was also the provision that he was to attend all ensuing festivities as representative of the Crown.

Another paragraph in his orders dealt with the delicate situation of the newly appointed captain of HMS Clyde. Tony was to "afford His Serene Highness with the guidance and support deemed necessary for the transition into his new rank". If Hohenstein were to fail as captain, their Lordships would be quick to lay the blame on Tony whilst washing their own hands of the situation. Tony shrugged. The young prince was able and conscientious and he would not commit any major blunder.

The main point of this paragraph in the orders was his own ranking. He was appointed as commodore of the first class. The difference was in the uniform coat he was allowed to wear. A commodore first class was entitled to a rear-admiral's uniform whilst a commodore second class had to wear his captain's coat. Tony guessed that the Foreign Office wanted him to attend the official functions in Cartagena dressed up as an admiral to increase his standing.

Other points demanding his attention were the attached sloops-of-war³. Kite, 16, was sailing under Commander Burroughs, a man who had held his lieutenant's commission for over twenty years before he made the leap to commander at the ripe age of forty-one. Thetis, 16, on the other hand was under the command of a young hotshot officer. Commander Pickleberry had been a lieutenant for less than two years when he was promoted after a daring boat raid on the harbour of Honfleur. He was twenty-one years old, half as old as his junior in rank, Burroughs, whose appointment was more recent.

This was a delicate situation, especially since Tony himself had risen rather quickly through the ranks. At thirty years of age he was a captain of seven years seniority. The prince was only nineteen years old and already captain. That had to grate Burroughs.

Yet there was something to learn when they met in Tony's cabin for dinner. Burroughs was not the bitter man Tony had expected. He did not look his forty-one years either but rather like a man in his mid-thirties, well-built and trim-looking, with an open smile. Tony revised his opinions. It was clear that Burroughs was elated rather than embittered, for he had — as he admitted laughingly — despaired of ever being promoted.

On the other hand Pickleberry would bear some close watching. He seemed to burn with ambition and the looks he cast at Burroughs showed disdain. It was astonishing how the prince held his own in this round being the youngest of them all. He was cordial with Burroughs and ready to parry the barbs from Pickleberry who clearly resented the newly posted captain who would be his superior for the rest of their lives.

The prince was now styling himself as Sir August — he had been made a Knight of the Garter upon reaching captain's rank — which made the address less complicated than "His Serene Highness August Heinrich Prince of Hohenstein". In a cunning move, the young man had also freed himself of his pompous chamberlain who had been appointed to Master of the Royal College of Surgeons, with the prince pulling the strings as Tony was sure.

The new ship's surgeon, a Mister Whales⁴, came highly recommended by Tony’s friend Jonathan Wilkes, a highly respected surgeon who had served in Asia. Tony had already interviewed the man in the afternoon; he seemed young and energetic. Still, after the sorcerer-like reputation Jonathan had enjoyed with the crew, Mister Whales had his work cut out for him.

After dinner, Tony prepared a list of items he and Harriet would need during the crossing. The cot was a wide one; the prince had shown that much foresight. There were some things they would need but most of those were with his private cabin fittings that had been removed from Asia's quarters. In a way it felt good to sail in a frigate again. Not that his service in the Asia had been boring — far from that. Yet, to be his own master again, now even in command of a small squadron, would be a new challenge and a welcome change.

—————

Tony felt like masquerading in his brand-new rear-admiral's uniform. Elizabeth Wilson's seamstresses had worked around the clock to provide him with the necessary number of coats. The five coats had set him back by over £50, almost eating up his recent pay increase. As commodore first class Tony received the same pay as the captain of a first rate ship, £820 a year, a huge increase over the £320 he had drawn whilst commanding Medusa and Clyde.

He forced himself back into the present. Harriet was ready, too, wearing a sea-green silk dress that complimented her colours.

"Ready, darling?" he asked.

Harriet smirked and nodded. It was their first night on board the Clyde. They would sail with the morning tide and Harriet had other ideas of how to spend the evening than having dinner with the conde. Tony had already learned that the Spanish grandee had not even thought of bringing his own cabin stores, clearly expecting his host to provide him with three free meals.

The first clash had already occurred when the conde sent billets to Tony and to Sir August, ‘commanding’ them to dinner. Tony had sent for the conde's major domo and disabused the man of the notion that a civilian passenger , a foreigner to boot, could command anybody or anything on board Sir Anthony Carter's flagship. Dinner would be a strained affair.

The conde was already sitting at table when Tony and Harriet emerged from their cabin, eyeing the set table with a frown. Tony had given instructions to serve a supper, not a grand dinner, and his new steward, Grimm, had followed the orders to the letter.

"My dear Sir Anthony," the conde started. "Surely you are jesting when you serve royal personages with commoner's fare? I do hope that I can expect more of a person of your means?"

Tony gave the man a smile.

"But of course, your Excellency! We shall have a real dinner on Sundays. On weekdays, I fear, the fare is what you see. With the limited exercise we can get in a ship, a rich fare will cause our girths to expand until we’ll look like capons. I assure you that the ship's biscuit is of the finest quality and the smoked mutton leg came from the first butcher in Portsmouth."

The conde's mouth opened and closed once without a sound before he had his reply ready, but then, the princess entered and he felt compelled to rise. The princess had been let in on the joke by Harriet. Seeing the laid table she clapped her hands.

"How thoughtful of you, Sir Anthony! I cannot stand a rich dinner, in particular now that I have to go without my regular horseback riding. Don't you agree, Cousin?"

The conde was indeed a third cousin of the princess, nothing unusual really, with the inbreeding that was common amongst European royalty.

"I could do with a more refined fare, to be sure," the conde answered stiffly.

"Tut-tut, my dear Cousin! This is a man-of-war, not the St. James Palace," the princess answered serenely. The prince entered the cabin and she turned to him. "Sir August, how good of you to join us."

The prince gave her a somewhat forced smile before he answered. "It is my privilege, Your Highness."

He helped the princess into her chair whilst Tony performed the same service for Harriet. Only then the men sat. Whilst the rest of the company ate with good appetite the conde showed his distaste for the pedestrian supper openly. More than once he complained and twice he commented negatively on the ale that was served. Tony could feel how Harriet wanted to respond forcefully but he calmed her down with a smile.

Eventually, the supper ended when Grimm served brandy for the gentlemen and tea for the ladies. The brandy was of the finest French quality, no doubt coming from a prize, but even this was not good enough for the conde.

"Dios mio! What I would give for a decent brandy from my own lands! Those French brandies are just not in the same class!"

"Since your own brandies are no doubt helping the digestion of some French general tonight, we must resign ourselves to what the French produced," Tony answered with amused detachment.

The conde glowered at Tony in response and Tony felt that Harriet was softly shaking with suppressed giggles.

"I can find no fault with this brandy, Sir Anthony," the prince stated. "Perhaps, the Conde's understandable love for his lands is clouding his tastes?"

That was a mild rebuke, one that the prince could easily deal given his position as a grandnephew of King George. The conde turned purple.

"I cannot see how a German princeling can allow himself to judge food or drink. The unrefined tastes of so-called German nobles are well known."

"It is in poor taste to insult my great uncle who offered you a safe haven when Napoleon drove you from your home!" the prince answered hotly. "Our gracious King George is one of those German princelings by birth."

The conde realised that he had overstepped bounds. "Hr-hm, far be it from me to insult our steadfast ally, the King George. I was referring to those pitiful sovereigns whose reigns extend over a few miserable villages at best."

"Yet some of those princelings fight against the usurper whilst your own king has chosen to be a kept man of Napoleon," the prince retorted coldly.

"He is a prisoner of the vile usurper!" the conde almost shrieked.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Tony interposed. "I suggest that you both control your tempers. Captain, please remember that the Conde is our guest. Your Excellency, please refrain from insulting my other guests. I believe it is time for us to retire. I apologise to the Princess for the undignified cock fight she had to witness."

The prince blushed and bowed to the princess. "I apologise, Your Highness," he said.

"My dear Sir August," the princess smiled, "I cannot find fault with your behaviour."

The conde's eyes bugged at this sting from his promised, but she smiled sweetly.

"Lady Carter, may I ask the pleasure of your company for a few moments?"

"Certainly," Harriet responded, rising from her chair.

Tony and the prince stood immediately, but the conde mulled the issue for a moment before he, too, rose. Perhaps it was the look Tony had cast at him. He had felt annoyance at the rudeness of this so-called nobleman and without him being aware of it he had fixated the Spaniard with a stare that had obviously conveyed a message. Once Harriet and the princess had left, there was a strained silence. Tony broke it.

"Your Excellency, Captain, I hope that I shall not have to witness another such undignified outburst. His Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs has assured me that we are allies in the fight against the Corsican tyrant. I must ask both of you not to forget this."

Again, the conde seemed poised to flare up but again something was conveyed in Tony's stare that made him deflate. The prince must have noticed it too, for Tony could see how the edges of his mouth were being tugged at by a suppressed smile.

"I understand, Sir Anthony," the prince said demurely.

The conde nodded curtly. "Of course," he said gratingly.

"Then we have an understanding, gentlemen," Tony closed amicably. "I wish both of you a good night. Anchor up at sunrise, Captain?"

"Indeed, Sir Anthony. The ebb tide will be running from two bells onward."

"Splendid. Let us hope that we shall have a pleasant crossing."

With that, both men were dismissed and left the stateroom. Only a moment later Harriet emerged from the princess's sleeping cabin. She was shaking her head.

"The poor girl," she whispered to Tony. "To be promised to this bugbear is almost akin to… Oh, never mind."

"You mean Palmer, don't you?" Tony asked lightly. The times when he was flustered by the mentioning of Harriet's first and unlamented husband were long gone.

Harriet nodded. "The conde reminds me of him in many ways."

"I commiserate with her but what can we do? She will be under her guardian's authority, and if I understood the story correctly, the betrothal is all but settled."

Harriet pulled him into their own private cabin. She whispered now.

"Tony, she is planning something rather desperate." She saw his look of alarm. "No, not that desperate. She plans to visit the chaplain to take lessons."

Tony realised that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it with an effort. "She plans to swear off the Catholic faith?"

"She's thinking — and she may be right — that by foreswearing her faith and accepting the baptism rites of the Church of England, she can demand to be returned to England. She'd be treated as a heretic in Cartagena."

Tony sat down on the edge of the cot with his thoughts whirling. That would truly create a diplomatic mess. A Spanish princess, a niece of His Most Catholic Majesty, turning against the Catholic Church and accepting the rites of the Church of England might just trigger a break-up of the feeble alliance between Spain and Britain. Yet could he, should he, thwart this plot? The legal position was clear: any person could convert to the Anglican faith and thus enjoy the protection of the Crown. How such an event might play out for his mission was another matter, and the Foreign Office would not look kindly on the officer who allowed it to happen.

"It'll be quite the mess?" Harriet asked.

Tony took a deep breath and shook his head. "Well, I have a chance to wear an admiral's uniform on this journey. It might just be my last chance."

"That bad?"

"It will completely derail this mission, yes. Legally, I am safe." He smiled weakly. "It may just be the exit into civilian life that I wanted."

"Oh darling, don't say that! Should I talk Isabella out of it?"

Tony took another deep breath. Could he really force a young, vibrant and bright girl into a union with a man as despicable as the conde? He could defer the sailing, of course, and hand over the entire affair to the Foreign Office. That would place the responsibility with somebody higher up, but it might also put the young girl under the pressure of the expatriate community. He rather liked her, and he knew that Harriet had taken her under her wings. He managed a fatalistic shrug.

"No, leave her be. She is a pleasant girl, and he is an ogre. I'll have a few months to plot how to pull my neck out of the noose. Let the girl follow her heart."

Harriet stepped close and pulled him up into a passionate embrace.

"Anthony Carter, you are the best and stoutest man I could ever find. Whatever may come out of this, I love you and I shall always stand by you. Perhaps… now that is an idea!"

"What is?" Tony asked, bewildered by the sudden mirth in Harriet's voice.

Harriet gave him a smug smile. "Do not worry. I may not be as skilled in tearoom politics as my mother, but I have eyes to see and intuition. Let your wife save your career, my darling."

"Will you tell me what this is about, Harriet?"

"I don't think so, my dear. You are an honourable man after all, and you might ruin my schemes with your scruples."

—————

After the bitter cold of the recent months Tony felt true elation as Clyde rode easily over the moderate rollers of the South Atlantic. Three weeks out of Portsmouth they had caught the northeasterly trade winds and now Clyde was racing over the waves under full sail. There was no feeling remotely as satisfying as sailing a fast frigate. With a grin, Tony corrected himself. Just an hour ago he had unwrapped himself from Harriet's embrace. Compared with the comfort she gave him, even sailing before the trades was paling a little.

There was the prince. He was studying the chalk board near the wheel. Tony had seen it already. During the night, Clyde had logged an average of nine knots, even without her royals. Now she ran closer to ten knots.

The prince approached. "Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning, Captain," Tony replied in a friendly tone. The young man had really performed his duties admirably so far. "This promises to be a very fast crossing."

"Indeed, Sir. By God, she flies, doesn't she?"

"Clyde is the best ship I ever sailed," Tony agreed. "With her new bottom there is not a ship that can match her for both speed and firepower."

"The sloops are keeping up well though, Sir."

Tony smiled. "Yes, but they had to run out the stuns'ls to keep up."

It was true: both sloops had their stunsails rigged at the ends of their yardarms, adding to the canvas they carried, and they needed it just to keep up with Clyde.

"Can we expect the conde at table today, Sir? The swell has gone down a little."

There was a certain malicious undertone in the prince's voice. Ever since sailing from Portsmouth the issue of supper had been moot, for His Excellency had been incapacitated by violent bouts of seasickness. Even the previous day, when Clyde had been dancing over the low rollers under a sunny sky, the conde had not shown outside his private cabin. As far as Tony knew the man sustained himself on teas and broth prepared for him under Mister Whales' instructions.

"I should be surprised if he showed, in particular if he showed for service."

It was Sunday, and the chaplain would hold the Divine Service on deck after the watch change.

"The chaplain has informed me that there will be a baptism today, Sir," Hohenstein said stiffly.

Tony swallowed hard. That could only mean one thing: the princess was following through with her scheme to avoid a marriage with the conde. Tony forced himself not to show any surprise but he could detect an uneasiness about the prince. Did he know about the girl's plans?

"Any idea who will be the baptised, Captain?"

"O-only rumours, Sir," the prince answered biting his lower lip and blushing.

"The Princess Isabella, then," Tony stated exhaling deeply. "She is going through with her plan. I should have known. This will not make our mission any easier."

"Indeed not, Sir. If I may say so, Sir, I can understand her motives."

"Don't we all? Yet, what will become of her? My orders are to convey her to her guardian, yet once she accepts the rites of the Church of England, she will be treated as a heretic by the Spaniards."

"Sir, aren't you her temporary guardian during this crossing?"

The thought had never occurred to Tony, but legally the prince had a point.

"One could argue that I am, Captain. What are you implying?"

"I, umh, Sir, her uncle's guardianship has not commenced yet, has it?"

"Not legally, no. Still, Captain, at what are you aiming?.”

"Sir, once she has accepted the Sacrament of Baptism, it could be argued that she is a subject of the King. She is of royal birth, too. I ... I have not found a fitting bride yet and I find the Princess Isabella very appealing, Sir."

"You want to marry her? Captain, what will the Court say to this?"

"I am of age, Sir, and recognised as the sovereign ruler of my lands."

"In effect, Captain, you want me to use my temporary authority over the princess to grant you her hand in marriage?"

The prince exhaled and nodded. "Yes, Sir. Ever since I saw her I have been thinking of her with deep fondness. The thought that she is to be married to that ... that despicable oaf is unbearable. When the Lady Carter told me how much the Princess loathes the idea herself, I realised what I have to do."

Tony looked at the lovesick young man. Ruling prince or not, he was just as hopelessly smitten by a pretty girl as any other junior officer. He thought of the young princess, too. Certainly, the young prince was a preferable option for her, but did she return his feelings? Was he perhaps just a lesser evil for her?

"Have you spoken to her already, Captain? Does she return the feelings you have for her?"

The prince looked down. "I have not had the chance to speak to her yet, Sir, but Her Ladyship has been kind enough to convey my offer. According to Lady Carter the Princess is willing to hear my wooing."

"Is she now? Captain, I mean no offence to you, but how much is her willingness influenced by her precarious situation?"

The young man's eyes widened a little, but he straightened his back and spoke with determination. "You are right, Sir, in that it she might feel compelled to hear my suit. I shall make it clear to her that she is not under any obligation."

"The Spanish will be up in arms," Tony temporised, but then he understood Harriet's scheme. The girl would not elope with some dandy. She would be married to a ruling sovereign prince, one who also was Nº17 in the line of succession to the British Crown. Tony could claim that he had to put the interest of the Crown before that of a foreigner. He exhaled. If this was the end to his professional career, at least the affair would end it with a fanfare that would be heard all over Europe. He smiled grimly.

"Won't you have to consult some crown council of your homeland before you can choose a wife, Captain?"

The young prince shrugged. "Those who were once charged with preserving my claims are now willing tools of the Corsican. They have forfeited their privileges." He smiled smugly now. "Not even my chamberlain can be reached for his opinion."

Another puzzle piece that fell into place. Grossmann must have been opposed to the prince's plans, but that meant that the prince must have already had designs on the girl before they even sailed.

"This is not just Lady Carter's doing I take it?"

"No, Sir, not entirely. I am deeply indebted to her for letting me know of the Princess's mind, but I had planned to woo her in any case."

"Hence the Baron's new role as Master of the RCS," Tony stated. Another thought came to him. "The conde might issue a challenge over this."

The prince shrugged with stolid indifference. "He might, Sir. It will not change the course of things."

Tony shook his head. "What date are you eying for the wedding?"

"Sunday next, Sir."

"And when will she break the news to the Conde?"

"There is no need for that, Sir. They are not engaged after all."

Again, Tony shook his head. The die had been cast and there was nothing he could do. He shrugged stoically. "I suppose we'd best have our breakfast then."

The princess had excused herself for the breakfast claiming a lack of appetite and Harriet looked decidedly apprehensive. This all the more as the Conde made a brief appearance accepting a cup of tea and even endeavouring to nibble on a ship's biscuit covered with a spoonful of strawberry jam. There was a strained atmosphere all through the breakfast even after the Conde excused himself again.

Afterwards, Tony and Harriet briefly retired to their cabin to dress properly for the service. It was then that Harriet put her hand on Tony's arm.

"Tony, just so you are warned: Isabella will go through with her plan today. She made the arrangements with the chaplain yesterday evening. I only heard of it an hour ago. Please, don't be mad at me; I agreed to serve as her godmother."

Tony grinned and patted her hand. "I already learned of a planned baptism and I surmised it would be the girl. Let's hope that the conde won't make a scene."

On deck, the crew was assembled for Sunday service. As usual the men stole surreptitious glances at Harriet, one of only two females they had seen in weeks. They stared openly when the Princess Isabella joined the officers on the quarterdeck wearing a pure white dress that caught the brilliant sunlight. Her black hair was uncovered and hung down in two tightly woven braids. She held a small wreath of dried flowers in her hands.

Mister Porthouse, the chaplain, started the service with the quiet efficiency that was his hallmark. He was a stout man and not easily perturbed, and even now, facing a task that may cause him all sorts of trouble, he showed his usual equanimity. The crew sang one of the hymns after which Porthouse started his sermon. That finished he cleared his throat and looked about showing the first sign of the apprehension he must feel.

"We shall now have a baptism," he announced. "Will you step forward, m'lady?"

A murmur went through the ranks when the Princess Isabella in her white dress stepped forward.

"My Child, are you ready to accept the Holy Sacrament of Baptism?"

"I am, Father," the girl spoke.

"Who will act as god-parents?" the chaplain asked next and Harriet let go of Tony's arm to stand at her young friend's side. Another murmur rose when Captain Sir August, Prince of Hohenstein, joined them.

This was a baptism rite that Tony did not know as it was not a child's baptism. The chaplain knew his text, though, and the princess answered all his questions firmly and in the affirmative. Soon enough he doused her with seawater from a small basin to close the ceremony.

"May God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit guide you and protect you, and may God's blessing be upon you and your ways!" he blessed her in closing.

Just like that the princess was a heretic in the eyes of the Catholic world, and a member of the Church of England for any Protestant. She would forever be unable to visit her homeland or any Spanish colony lest she faced the Inquisition. It was also the critical step in her plot to escape her preordained fate.

Wet and bedraggled she rejoined the officers on the quarterdeck and waited for the closing of the service which was effected by another hymn, followed by the Our Father into which she joined with a clear voice. When the service ended and the men left the deck by divisions, she turned to Tony.

"I apologise deeply for all the difficulties I have created for you and will yet create. I will be forever in your debt."

Tony could not help a smile as he looked at the diminutive girl in front of him who spoke with such great dignity despite her drenched appearance.

"I am doing no more than what honour dictates, Your Highness," he answered.

"May I ask you to dispense with the title "Highness", Sir Anthony? As of this day I have no claim to this honorific anymore."

"How shall we address you then for the time being?" Tony asked giving the prince a meaningful look.

"I believe Señorita Isabella to be adequate, Sir Anthony. Or perhaps, given my new standing, Miss Isabella should be even more fitting."

Tony nodded to that. "As you wish, Miss Isabella. We shall have an interesting table conversation no doubt."

As he spoke, the former princess nodded, her beautiful face in an expression of grim determination. "Again, my regrets, Sir Anthony."

Tony had to grin. "If the weather remains as it is there will not be many dinners affected by your actions."

—————

As bad luck would have it though, the Conde de Alcala was slowly growing sea legs or at least getting over the full misery of seasickness, for he showed for the noon meal. For once he could see no reason to complain for the table was indeed richly laid. Tony had given orders to sacrifice two of his remaining chickens. A rich chicken soup was their appetiser and the cook had produced chicken pastries for the main dish. Add to that a delicious Madeira white wine, and it was a dinner fit for a king.

With his appetite for food returned the Conde also seemed to have recovered his other desires, for he kept looking at the former princess all through the main course with a possessive stare that made the others uncomfortable.

"I look forward to visiting you in your new home, my dear Isabella."

The former princess steeled herself. "I am afraid that I have to disappoint you, my dear cousin. I will not be able to entertain you."

"Oh, have no fear! You guardian will not object to my visits," the Conde laughed smugly. "I shall be the new Gobernador, after all."

"Yet, my future husband may object and you will find the travel too tedious, I fear," Isabella answered dryly.

"My dear, I thought it was clear that I shall ask your guardian for his blessing to woo you once we arrive."

"Cousin, you cannot woo me and I shall not go ashore in Cartagena. I can never again set foot on Spanish soil. I have taken instructions these last weeks whilst you felt unwell, and this morning I accepted the Sacrament of Baptism from the Holy Church of England."

The creaking of Clyde's timbers was the only sound for almost a minute whilst the conde tried to digest this outrageous news. With understanding came an angry red colouring to his heavy jowls.

"What shame have you brought upon the Royal House?" he demanded heatedly.

Miss Isabella returned the angry stare. "I followed my conscience and I am aware of the consequences. I shall return to England in this ship to claim the protection of the British Crown."

"I'll have you brought ashore and handed over to the priests! They will make you repent. They will…"

"Your Excellency, nobody will be brought ashore from this ship against his or her will," Tony interjected coolly. "By becoming a member of the Holy Church of England whose titular head, our Gracious King George, is my supreme commander, Miss Isabella can rightfully claim my protection."

"You are in collusion with her?" the conde snarled angrily. "You and your wife? I knew she was no fitting company for a royal princess! Once you are under the guns of Cartagena we shall see whether you will dare to resist my orders!"

Alarmed, the majordomo put a restraining hand on his master's arm but Tony began to enjoy the situation. He had found the man revolting right from the start and to put him in place was deeply satisfying even it meant the end of his professional aspirations.

"This is most regrettable, Your Excellency, as it leaves me with no choice but to put you ashore with your train and possessions at some place distant from Cartagena, say, near Soledad? That should leave you with a foot march of a little more than fifty miles, easily done in five or six days, even given the uncomfortable climate."

The conde's mouth opened and closed as he contemplated his situation and his complete dependency on Tony to reach his destination.

"Don Antonio," the majordomo interceded. "My master was speaking in haste, I am sure. You will appreciate his agitation over the news he had to receive. I am sure he did not mean to threaten you with warlike actions."

The conde shook his arm free from the majordomo's touch. He fixated Miss Isabella.

"Isabella, think of what you are throwing away! Reconsider, I implore you! Nothing of this foolishness need ever be known. Come to your senses and confess at the earliest convenience, and you can still lead a life becoming your high station."

"I thank you for your concern, Cousin, but I believe that my prospects are not as bleak as you might think," Miss Isabella countered.

"What prospects, Isabella? What can compare to being the wife of a Grandee of the First Rank, the wife of a gobernador real?"

Tony anticipated what would happen now. The prince spoke up.

"I believe that being the future wife of a prince and sovereign ruler will more than compensate for the opportunities she gave up," he said defiantly.

The conde turned ghostly white before the blood rushed back into his face. The major domo tried to calm his master, but the conde was beyond reason.

"You! You dared to... How dare you even think of a Princess from the House of Borbón! Sovereign ruler? Of what? A handful of dismal villages filled with heretics! The thought of a heretic wooing a niece of His Most Catholic Majesty is an insult to the Spanish Crown and to Spain!"

"Gentlemen, must I remind you to maintain your countenance?" Tony interjected.

The conde glowered at Tony, trying to put his outrage into words, and Tony knew that the conde's next words would be insulting to him or Harriet. What that meant was equally clear. Yet, there was an interruption.

"Your Excellency, I find your words insulting. I shall have to ask for satisfaction," the prince spoke calmly.

With a new focus for his murderous fury, the conde jumped up. His jowls trembled when he answered. "Very well! We shall settle this at once! Don Pietro, arrange for everything. I choose pistols."

Tony took a deep breath. Perhaps this could be avoided and it was his duty to try that.

"Gentlemen, I cannot allow you to continue in this affair. May I remind you that duelling is prohibited in His Majesty's ships?"

The prince flared up. "Sir Anthony, he ins..."

"Captain, I forbid any actions that run contrary to the Articles of War. That goes for you and for all passengers. Your Excellency, I find your conduct deplorable, to say the least. I shall not fail to notify my superiors of your woeful lack of restraint and tact."

"You...!" the conde spluttered.

"Your Excellency, I must warn you. I shall not tolerate any further outbursts. Must I remind you of your status on board my ship? I suggest that we all return to our cabins, except for Sir August who will tend to his duties on deck. For the remainder of the journey we shall devise an arrangement that will keep the offended parties separated. Don Pietro, if you will be so kind as to stay behind so we can work out a set of rules?"

That was a crucial point. The prince and the conde could not see each other socially until the matter was resolved, either by apology and acceptance, or through an exchange of pistol shots. The meals would be strained.

Once the main cabin had emptied, Tony and the majordomo worked on a schedule that would keep the combatants separated during dinners. Furthermore, the two men agreed that the conde and the former princess should also be kept away from each other to avoid unnecessary confrontations. That meant in turn that Tony and Harriet would not be able to eat together since he alone was left to keep the conde company during meals. Harriet had to chaperone Miss Isabella. All this was extremely annoying.

Indeed, the following days were uncomfortable for everybody, not least the stewards who had to serve each meal twice. By the end of the week, Tony was ready to throttle the conde. Their meals were strained affairs with the Spaniard barely maintaining a polite facade. His Excellency also took to drinking, and his earlier disdain for French brandy was forgotten. Tony saw this with mixed emotions. The conde was rapidly depleting Tony's brandy stores, yet he posed less of a problem when drunk senseless as he was each evening.

After a few days, Tony managed to introduce his dinner guest to fleet rum, and after a few glasses, His Excellency discovered a new favourite. The inevitable headache incurred from over-imbibing rum also made him a late riser in the next days, further relieving Tony of the need to keep him company.

After dinner on the following Saturday Tony seduced his guest into even heavier drinking, and the conde obligingly slept all through Sunday morning and through the wedding ceremony on the quarterdeck, where Captain His Serene Highness Sir August of Hohenstein, KG, married Miss Isabella Leon as she styled herself. With a wry smile Tony realised that he now had to address "Miss Isabella" as "Her Serene Highness", after her one-week intermezzo as a maiden commoner.

The conde was still sleeping off his drunk, and thus Tony was able to attend the modest celebrations. It was his first chance to spend significant time with Harriet in over a week, too, and it served to restore his balance.

Later in the afternoon the conde made a short appearance on deck, looking daggers at the officers and at Sir August in particular. That evening the conde drank even more before the stewards had to carry him to his cabin.

In the following week the bloodshot eyes of the conde were a common sight for Tony. The man did not talk anymore at all; he just sat at table and downed glass after glass of rum. It was obvious that the man was losing the last remnants of his dignity along with his mind. His servants and his major domo tried their best to keep him sober for at least a few hours each day, but their efforts met with his stubborn determination to drink himself to death.

Normally, Tony would have taken the spirits away from the man but he was in the hope that the future governor of Cartagena would drink himself into a state that would prevent the looming duel with Sir August. Not that the conde would stand a chance but it would be a diplomatic catastrophe if King George's nephew killed a Spanish governor.

This was the situation when the lookout finally shouted his "Land ho!" from the masthead, right after another beautiful sunrise in the Caribbean Sea. It had been a very fast crossing, a small blessing in an uncomfortable situation. As they approached Cartagena, Tony was asking himself what complication was coming next. He was acutely aware of his past with Doña Maria and he was uncertain what reception he would get.

They were met outside the harbour by a Guarda Costa cutter. The officer in command accepted Tony's assurance that their ships were free of any fevers and he also accepted the letter to Don Alonso. Fortunately, the man remembered Tony as the one Ingles who was in Don Alonso’s highest favour, and he pointed out a fitting anchorage for the ships.

Not even the rumbling of the anchor cable sufficed to wake the conde from his drunk stupor, a fact that Tony hoped to exploit. As quickly as possible he had his gig lowered and was heading for the quay. John Little and Garcia the translator were with him. He was met by the very same Capitan Ortega who had assisted him years ago. The man looked him over briefly and nodded. The rear-admiral's uniform did not fail to make an impression.

"Pleez, Don Antonio, heez Excellency eez anxious to receive you!"

"It will be my pleasure," Tony answered politely. "I trust his Excellency is in good health and spirits?"

"Oh, he eez! Very healthy, very happy!"

The latter might just change in the next hour, Tony thought wryly.

Chapter 3 — An Elegant Solution

Cartagena, New Spain, April 1809

Don Alonso appeared unchanged to Tony's eyes. He was still erect and slim and his piercing black eyes had lost nothing of their alertness. Yet, when he greeted Tony there was a cordiality about him that was new.

"My dear friend, you have returned!" he exclaimed, reaching for Tony's hand and shaking it vigorously. "The saviour of my happiness, and now even our ally! Welcome, Don Antonio! I see that you have advanced in your service, Almirante."

Tony found it the wrong time to clarify the intricacies of rank in the Royal Navy.

"I thank you for the friendly welcome, Don Alonso," he replied. "I feel very honoured to be called a friend by your Excellency."

"Yet, you deserve this title more than any other man I know. I trust that you are in good health and spirits? Your name came up in official mail and in newspapers, and even though I had to count you as Spain's enemy then, your bravery and chivalrous conduct have made me proud. Let us hope for more reasons to come, now that you are our ally against the treacherous Corsican!"

"This is indeed my fervent wish, your Excellency. My mission is a delicate one, and the capriciousness of fate has made it even more delicate. My ship has a passenger, His Excellency the Conde de Alcalosa, and my orders are to convey him to Cartagena for him to be your successor."

The happy smile on Don Alonso's face was gone in an instant.

"By whose authority, may I ask, was he appointed?"

"There is a sizeable community of exiled Spanish nobles and courtiers in London, and His Excellency the Spanish Envoy represents your King Fernando. I suppose he selected the Conde."

"Did he now!" Don Alonso expostulated. With an effort he calmed himself. "I was appointed Governor by His Majesty the King, and only His Majesty or the Viceroy in Panama have the authority to relieve me. Certainly not an envoy who ranks decidedly below a Royal Governor."

"My apologies then, your Excellency!" Tony hastened to answer. "This is not what His Majesty's government was given to understand by his Excellency the Envoy. Far be it from His Majesty's government to interfere with the lawful governance of His Most Catholic Majesty's dominions."

"I understand and I ask you to forgive my outburst. I shall send to the Viceroy in this matter and await his decision. In the meantime, the Conde will be my honoured guest. We do not have the pleasure of noble visitors often enough, and my wife will be delighted."

Tony's facial expression must have given him away, for the governor smirked at him.

"I take it the crossing was less than pleasurable?"

"There were events that compounded our mission," Tony admitted. "I also have as a passenger the former Princess Isabella of Léon. I believe that she is kin to you?"

"Young Isabella? My wife will be delighted! I am sure there will be many suitors for her hand. But why 'the former princess', pray?"

"She... Hr-hm! As of a week ago, she is now styling herself Her Serene Highness the Princess-Consort of Hohenstein. Her husband, Captain His Serene Highness the Prince of Hohenstein, is my flag captain."

The governor's eyebrows shot up and Tony explained in as few words as possible the events since they sailed from Portsmouth. The governor sighed.

"Her mother was well known for her lack of discretion and for her strong will. Nevertheless, if she is the consort of a sovereign prince and ally, she will be welcomed with all due honours. You said the conde took this development hard?"

"You will find him frequently indisposed, your Excellency," Tony replied diplomatically.

"I see. This is interesting to hear, and it will likely influence the Viceroy in his decision," Don Alonso said with a small smile. "And your wife is with you? Of course, you will be my guests during your stay, and I shall welcome His Serene Highness, too. After all, we have kinship ties with him now. Do you believe that you may be able to rouse the conde sufficiently to convey him into my hospitality?"

"You will find his major domo, Don Pietro, a most able and reasonable man," Tony answered. "I count on his help."

—————

Indeed, Don Pietro was able to spruce up the conde sufficiently for the boat ride to the quay. Don Alonso sent his own barge, and during the short crossing the conde stared at the two couples with bloodshot eyes. Harriet was wearing a fine travel costume made of green silk which complimented her glorious strawberry blonde hair and her trim figure. She had clearly dressed to make an impression.

The governor awaited them in his palace with Doña Maria at his side. It had been over five years, but Tony still felt a tingle when he espied her. At his side he heard a sharp intake of breath from Harriet.