Page 61 of A Story of Love

He laughed. “Quite true.”

“Tell me about the mutineers, my lord.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Saved by the bell,” he said lightly. “Come in.”

The door opened and a maid hovered on the threshold. “You rang, my lord?”

“My guest has a rather nasty scratch. Please bring some hot water and something to clean and bind the wound.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The instant the door closed Lori said, “You were talking about the mutiny, my lord.”

He grinned, took a drink, and then absently turned the cut crystal around and around with surprisingly elegant fingers for such a large man. “What do you know about the mutiny itself?”

“The ship was a frigate—one of the fifth class, so a smaller ship. She had a crew of approximately one hundred and seventy. There were fewer than a dozen marines and none of them took action against the mutineers when the violence began. The core leadership of the mutiny was thought to number about twenty-five or thirty men. They comprised the group that killed the captain and all but three of his officers. They then sailed the ship to Spanish controlled waters and turned the vessel over to the authorities. They claimed to have put the captain and his officers on a lifeboat which they set adrift. That lie didn’t hold up for long as there were so many survivors. The Spanish re-christened the ship and twenty-five of the original crew stayed on. Since then, a system of rewards has led to the capture of thirty-five of the crew. Of those, twenty-four were hanged. Obviously, there is still a large number of the conspirators at large.”

His eyebrows had crept higher as she’d spoken. “You have an astoundingly detailed memory.”

She shrugged off the compliment. “The subject is fresh in my mind as I recently read all the newspaper accounts at the Times.”

“What do you know about Captain Pigot?”

“He was considered a harsh captain by—”

Severn gave a bitter laugh. “Harsh. That’s one way to describe him.”

“If you know more, please tell me. I am only sharing what I’ve read.”

“Did you know he had ordered eighty-five floggings on that one journey alone.”

“Eighty-five? Surely that must be… excessive.”

“It is extremely excessive,” he agreed grimly. “Of those eighty-five men, two died of their punishment.”

“That is truly barbaric—and surely criminal,” Lori said, feeling vaguely ill. She met his brooding gaze, her eyes widening when she deciphered his expression. “Good Lord. You believe the mutiny was justified!”

“I met the man once in Baltimore,” he said, ignoring her question. “He was holding a court of sorts on the deck of his ship. He had a midshipman named Davis before him on his knees—as if it were some sort of biblical tribunal—and was trying to force the man to publicly beg forgiveness for some infraction or other. When Davis refused, Pigot had him bound to the whipping post and personally administered twelve lashes. As if that wasn’t enough, he also disrated the man. Do you know what disrating means?”

“It means his career in the navy would essentially be over. But I ask you again: is that a reason to mutiny?”

“That is not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“Pigot demonstrated a cruel capriciousness that made life for the men serving beneath him a daily terror. Do you know what Davis—an experienced junior officer by all accounts—had done to incur Pigot’s wrath?”

“No.”

“Pigot noticed that a sail had not been secured properly by one of the sailors under Davis's supervision. He confronted Davis with the infraction and Davis apologized and took responsibility for his subordinate’s actions himself. And for that, his life was ruined.”

“Pigot was undeniably a horror, my lord, but I’m not sure that justifies the crime of treason, not to mention several murders.”

“As far as the law is concerned it certainly doesn’t.” He shrugged and drank deeply from his glass before saying, “But I have my own code.”

“And what does your code dictate?”