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The problem that Gordon was doggedly delving into and this depriving himself of well needed rest was both intriguing and immensely frustrating. Sitting in his office high in the Admiralty's library he pushed up his delicately-framed round spectacles and rubbed his eyes.
Had the First Lord of the Admiralty, the Viscount Melville, to whom he nominally deferred, had witnessed his feverish study he would not believe it, not least because Gordon was not taken to such behaviour but because such a trifle was hardly high on his priority list however, since his letter in reply to Hamilton Gordon had worried.
He had received a curt acknowledgement of his letter but nothing since. That concerned Henry Gordon – inaction short of cannon-fire which was Sir Toby Hamilton's character – unnerved him and he had sent the sober-natured Gordon into an unrelenting search for the absolute authority on the matter. What was like him was his unerring desire to be in full knowledge of the facts in order to best do his duty.
It came to this: officers in command of a vessel of the Royal Navy had the capacity to marry those who wished it. And that was all. Nothing was mentioned in law, although Gordon presumed that, so a captain took place of a member of the clergy in both death and spiritual guidance beforehand, he also took the mantle of minister as far as marital matters were concerned. And the law had never been challenged before.
So that was the point, then: how valid was the marriage ceremony carried out aboard the Surprise on 29th November 1803? Which countries did the joining these two people acknowledge the authority of the observance? Though superb in administratortative and communication tasks with respect to his position Gordon was no legal expert.
Closing the hefty volume of Blackstone's "Commentaries" (The Rights of Persons) Gordon moved out his chair carefully as the early morning blackness flooded darkly into the library. He was not really any clearer than when he started the hunt for facts.
On the other hand, as detailed again in "The Rights of Persons" the law was given that the father of a daughter or the ward of a guardian may call any marriage without his consent invalid "as long as [so the volume defined] the wellbeing of the daughter or ward is hitherto compromised".
It was certain that Hollum or indeed Wigg was aware of this statute. Clearly they could argue that her residence aboard a warship was not in Miss Cicely Hollum's best interests. Gordon rubbed his temples as he replaced the "Blackstone's".
He would have to get advice from someone well versed in legal matters – Lord Harrowby's private secretary Stibbs, a friend of Gordon's, may well give some measure of assistance. This was an uncertain situation, one where no precedent had been set. Yet. But only if she ever returned to the country.
It was the flint that lit the candle within his mind and, as far as the Royal Navy was concerned (for it was the Royal Navy's interests Gordon served) the man could see a way to distance the seagoing fighting force from scandal or legal ramifications. It was his duty to see where the path would lead.
One thing was clear to him, however: as long as she never did come back to England the potential indignity and humiliation on the reputation of the service would vanish.
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Captain Jack Aubrey of the "HMS Surprise" threw his bicorn hat towards the window of his office.
"Damn it! Damn!" The curse words came from his lips as readily as lava from a tempestuous volcano and he kicked his chair to the bargain.
The meeting aboard the flagship had not gone well. Oh, he had been welcomed aboard as the other captains had been, that was true enough, and he had been given wine and food as was befitting such a meeting. And, excepting two incidents, one a trifle and the other not so, the meeting would have been quite routine and Jack would have been able to marvel at the ingenuity and innovation of their Lord Nelson.
Not so, for now his blood was up. Jack Aubrey rarely got into a rage, preferring instead to direct his emotions towards strategy, organisation or, if the cause and nature of the irk was particularly dire, to retreat to a letter from (or to) Sophie or soothe his nerves with his violin.
Should he touch his beloved instrument now Jack knew he was like as not to cause irreparable damage so much of a fury the latter incident had been.
Many of the captains who were at the meeting he had been acquainted before the night, whether at society events, shore-mess dinners or, less formally, at wharf and had greeted, and been greeted, with hearty affability and fine humour. Harte, of course, had been notably indifferent.
The meeting in Captain Hardy's office at the stern of the ship (interrupted only by a minor absconding incident a-decks) had been cramped but secure and, as both Nelson and Collingwood had been present explaining both the vision – the Lord Admiral – and the strategy – Vice Admiral Collingwood.
The plan was this: the fleet was to form two columns with Nelson in command of one, the Victory, and Collingwood the "Royal Sovereign". They were to sail at the centre and rear of the enemy line of battle so as to bring the British ships into close action and cut off the vanguard of the combined French-Spanish fleet which, though would have the prevailing wind, would have to manoeuvre to take account of the fleet's configuration.
It was brilliant in its simplicity. Aubrey, as with the other captains cheered heartily as Collingwood detailed it to them. Shaking his head now to himself the originality of the strategy was foreshadowed by the dolt who had spoken to him in front of the other captains, before his peers!
They had partaken in port, the best from the Douro valley, beef and lamb from the Portuguese hill-farms. Now, Aubrey reflected bitterly, the memory of the food tasted repugnant and the port wine sour. The reason: Jack had barely to recall the face of Donald McGregor before he picked up his hat, which had landed near his Queen Anne chair and threw it towards the window.
Did this man know no discretion? Could he not have recounted Nelson's orders to him privately.
"God damn your eyes, McGregor!" growled Aubrey to his window, whose proximal position, moored as it was opposite the flagship gave ample opportunity to let fly a few more curse words.
Jack had been remarking on the plan to Eliab Harvey, captain of the Temeraire and how his heart would sing when fully engaged in battle when the list of ships allocated to both the weather and lee columns were listed. The Surprise was not mentioned. When Aubrey questioned which column his ship was to take McGregor, Nelson's appointee [Henry Gordon's damp counterpart] had bluntly told Aubrey he was to remain at Cadiz and was not to sail with the fleet.
"May I speak with you, Lord Admiral?" Aubrey, barely believing his ears nor believing his own impertinence addressed Nelson directly. He narrowed his eyes and, as Collingwood was about to pronounce Aubrey as brazenness towards Nelson he cut in.
"Aubrey," Nelson replied, his body still and face emotionless before turning to McGregor. "May I trouble you sir, to elaborate on Aubrey's role? Perhaps the dispensary will serve as a less public arena?"
He had followed McGregor out of the cabin and out onto the main deck before turning left and into the ship's surgeon's office. He had harboured thoughts of meeting Stephen and, though he had grown to accept the man, enquire as to whether he and Thomas Hardy would redisplace their roles. All such thoughts now eluded him as the upset emotions he was now fighting to contain.
"Have you brought the letter as instructed, Aubrey?" McGregor's lilting expression, talking as if discussing wine or literature, soft and plain, caused Jack to bite back his own blunt outburst. He had focused on the range of small medical bottles, bunches of herbs (probably aconite) and glass and metal devices.
"Yes," he'd replied, restrainedly. From his tunic coat he extracted the letter that Sophie had sent him including that letter she had sent him from Cicely.
"You do not deny your hand in this?" continued McGregor, a touch of superiority, only a touch, in his voice. To Aubrey now, remembering it, Donald McGregor's vocal hue sounded loud in his mind.
"In that I married two consenting people aboard my ship as per protocol, no," Aubrey had replied stiffly. "In fact Miss Hollum had expressed to me that she put her life in danger many times before. I saw the advantage of a guardian in her husband, my surgeon," he added deliberately.
"You shame the whole of the service, Aubrey," continued McGregor, folding Sophie's letter around that of Cicely. It would be of little use to argue with the man, Jack knew, for it would only provide him with more weaponry to use against him in his own self-satisfied manner.
"Your role is to flank the fleet at range, but you shall not engage the battle."
On recalling those incongruous words Aubrey threw his hat again, this time in the direction of the door as it was rapped upon.
"Enter!" he bellowed. To be curtailed so, it was a Homeric blow.
"Captain Aubrey." Thomas Hardy's deep, honey tones, unsuited that they were to a man in his profession Jack had always thought, disseminated around Jack's office. Perhaps they were the pleasantest to have been spoken in an hour and as such Jack's dejected humour lightened slightly. "I heard thumping – do you wish for my company?"
A moment's pause followed, with Jack's affirmative pleasantry following that. Dr. Hardy took a few steps towards Jack's Queen Anne chair (he no longer moved tentatively in trepidation of the fearsome stare he had received when he had first tried his weight against its construct).
"Would you care for coco leaves?"
Aboard another ship, namely that of the Victory but in an orientationally distinct location another contemplatee was mulling the conversation he had witnessed, to whit that between McGregor and Aubrey.
How he had wished his counterpart in Paris had heard the dressing-down – for the man who had thwarted so many of Fouche's well-built schemes being denigrated himself would have caused much mirth in the man – even by his own standards he was enjoying listening to Aubrey squirm.
He had the memory of Captain Jack Aubrey's discomfort to console him when future difficulties presented themselves however, concealed as he was in the hold awaiting the opportunity to steal appropriate garb of the seaman, he would just have to wait.
As soon as he could, the spy would be able to get down to his primary business. It had been providence that a Spanish ship had allowed him passage to the south of Spain having availed him of his location on the Atlantic coast of France, delivering him almost to Cadiz itself. It had been better than anything he could have hoped for.
The spy sneaked back into the shadows, pressing himself against the oak beams of the ship's hull. Trying to inhale no more foul air than was strictly necessary the spy watched as a deckhand hung a relatively freshly-laundered tunic. That was what he needed to complete his ensemble. Good. Not a moment to lose. For there was an assassin to find.