Timeline.
26 February 1815 - Napoleon escapes Elba. Since the news probably took a few days to circulate, I think we can estimate that Frederick's proposal took place early March. I've gone with the 4th.
14 April 1815 - Frederick and Anne get married in the parish church in Kellynch with Edward officiating. Nearly six months of wedded bliss is observed, mostly in Lyme.
2nd September 1815 - An official letter arrives from Portsmouth and Frederick sets out to see what they want. Returns two days later (4th) to tell Anne about the mission.
20th September 1815 - Frederick, Anne and Captain Harville travel to Portsmouth.
23rd September 1815 - Frederick sets sail for Southern Africa. Anne and Harville travel back to Lyme.
6th October 1815 - Anne confirms that she is about two months with child.
21st December 1815 - HMS Aurora is set upon during a storm. Sinks with the lose of 187 men, 50 taken captive. Frederick and the cook, MacGregor land on one of the Azores (Chapter 2 & 4)
10th January 1816 - The day Frederick was scheduled to return.
31st January 1816 - Admiral Croft brings the news that Anne had been dreading.
1st May 1816 - Anne gives birth to Benjamin Frederick Wentworth (Chapter 3)
16th June 1817 - The Elliot's come for a visit (Chapter 5)
July 1816 - Anne spends time at Upper cross (Chapter 7)
21st December 1815 onwards - Frederick attempts to find a way home (Chapter 6 & 8)
Early February 1816
The stars seemed brighter in this part of the world.
Or at least they looked brighter.
Perhaps he had just forgotten what the stars looked like from the pebbled beach at Lyme.
He sighed.
"Thinkin' o'home?" his companion asked.
Frederick turned his head, "Little else to think about."
His companion nodded, "And they'll off heard aboot us by now no doubt."
That was what troubled him the most. News had surely reached home by now of the Aurora's demise in the Atlantic with the loose of crew. He would be named among those lost. Anne would believe him to be dead.
Absently he fiddled with the ring on his left hand.
"Married?"
Frederick nodded. "You?"
"Aye. To the reddest haired, sharpest tongued Irish woman you'll ever meet. She's kept me right these ten years past."
They lapsed into another silence.
They had been travelling slowly round the coastline for the past thirty days at least. Perhaps longer. They weren't entirely sure of the date, a calendar being one of the many items that did not wash up on the shore behind them. Judging by the stars however, they estimated it was either late January or early February.
They had stayed for several days on the original beach they had landed on, in the vain hope that a ship would be passing within signalling distance.
They saw none.
Staying had one advantage though, in the form of various items that had obviously come from the Aurora being carried by the current and being washed ashore. They had managed to gather together a fairly good ration of supplies and other items, such as a compass and cutting knife.
After several days the bounty of items had trailed off and they found themselves formulating a plan. They would have to move from where they where. That was a given, but in which direction to go?
Frederick's knowledge of the Azores was limited. He knew that there where a few of them and that they fell under the control of the Portuguese, that they did have several small towns and docks but he did not know whether they where to the North, South, East or West.
They finally decided by flipping a rock. Unmarked they would head South. Marked they would head in a Northerly direction. The stone had fallen marked side up and it was decided.
They head out just after first light the very next morning.
The going was slow.
One would walk along the shoreline, picking up anything of interest, while the other headed a short distance into the forest area doing the same.
A sail recovered from the sea acted as a tent at night and they each took turns keeping watch.
It had not occurred to either of them, till they where several days into their journey round the island, to count the days. Frederick supposed that it didn't matter that much, they would reach where they where heading when they did, the date wouldn't matter.
"'Ave you thought about what we're going tae do when we reach somewhere?" the Scotsman asked. Pulling Frederick from his musings.
"If," he replied.
"No, when. We don't have no money, nor nothing tae barter with."
"How about we worry about that when we come to it?" Frederick said. "I'd be happy enough to be taken as a prisoner right now, and be ransomed back to the British."
"I'd rather not," his companion said.
When they did finally stubble upon some civilisation, they did so quite literally.
The shoreline had began to change. The white sandy beach had slowly transformed into a rocky outcrop, finally emerging as a cliff face and they where forced further inshore.
They had been walking along further inland, looking for a country road or even a residence. Nothing had been forthcoming so far till they had forced themselves through some particularly thick bushes when the ground suddenly disappeared from beneath their feet and they went tumbling down a hill side.
As they landed, and before the dust had settled, Frederick heard the clocking of several guns and as the cloud that surrounded them died down, he found himself staring down the barrel of several rifles.