of his eyes were red, and his complexion was pale and puffy.
Leaning back in his chair with his mug of coffee, James stifled a yawn and tried to assume a more serious attitude. “Tell us, Mr. Brodie, where were you born?”
“In Girvan, Scotland, sir, in thee year of our Lord, 1789.”
“And how long have you been a seaman?”
“I joined thee Royal Navy when I was ten. Worked me way up to captain o’ thee maintop. Sailed on thee Victory with Lord Nelson himself. I was there when he was shot at Trafalgar in ’05.”
Fly could not help the wave of envy that swept over him. “You are lucky, Mr. Brodie. That is an honour of which few men can boast.”
“We all admired Lord Nelson, but …” He turned his copper-haired head to look at Captain Moreland. “I admired you more, sir.”
James straightened in his chair and set his mug down on the table. “You once sailed with me?”
“That I did. Before thee Victory, I was thee sail maker on thee Isabelle.”
James’s face twitched. “I thought my memory was still sound … I do not recall a man such as yourself.”
“I was still a young lad. Early ’04 it was. We was on blockade duty at Brest, off thee coast of France.”
Fly watched James’s face drain of its colour, much the way it had when Emily had first mentioned the name of Thomas Trevelyan.
“I believe it was your last voyage, sir, before ya – well, before ya retired,” continued Brodie. “Ya’ll remember … ya was commandin’ thee Isabelle at Brest along with King George’s son, thee Duke o’ Wessex. As I recall it, sir, Wessex scared thee lot o’ us.”
“I’ve heard tell that Wessex was a harsh disciplinarian and notorious for swearing like a tinker,” said Fly, glancing at James. “Am I right, sir?”
James picked up his mug and sipped his coffee thoughtfully. He gave a slight nod, but made no comment. Instead, he switched the subject. “Mr. Brodie, you were brought on board last night with forty-five other men. Do you know or recognize any of the others?”
“Not a one, sir. But I can tell ya they’ll all swear to bein’ Yankee. Hard to tell when I heard plenty o’ English tongues among ’em.”
“We’ll deal with them in our own way later,” said Fly, rubbing his face.
“How long then were you a crew member on the Liberty?” asked James.
“Two days, sir.”
“Why only two days?”
“Before that I was a prisoner on a Yankee frigate, thee Serendipity it was.”
Fly saw a slight quivering of James’s hands around his mug. When his captain said nothing in reply, he asked, “Under the command of Thomas Trevelyan?”
“Aye, Trevelyan was his name. I was lyin’ in his gaol, keepin’ company with rats whilst he did battle with yas a week back. Ya did enough damage he had to flee to Norfolk, Virginia, to make repairs, but me, I was sent straightaway to thee Liberty, ’cause their own Cap’n Butterfield had been ordered to go after ya, to give ya chase, even though ya was a bigger ship, possessin’ more guns.”
Fly and James exchanged glances.
“You said you were a prisoner on the Serendipity.” James’s voice was hoarse.
“Aye, sir.” Mr. Brodie looked again at the biscuits. Fly slid the plate under his nose and gestured for him to help himself. “Much obliged, Mr. Austen.”
“When and how were you taken Trevelyan’s prisoner?”
Mr. Brodie gobbled a biscuit before answering. “I was on an East India merchant vessel called thee Amelia, bound for Upper Canada.”
“Were you being escorted by a man-of-war?”
“Nay, thee Amelia was a large vessel with plenty o’ eighteen-pounder guns of her own.” He reached for a second biscuit and rapidly disposed of it. “We was carryin’ supplies of all kinds: farm equipment and seeds, wine, materials, linens, guns, gunpowder, you name it. As well, we had a number o’ families, mostly women and children, travellin’ to meet their military husbands posted at York, Kingston, and Quebec.”
“Go on.”
“We was nearin’ Halifax when we was attacked. About four in thee mornin’ it was. Trevelyan – he caught us by surprise – subjugated us with his guns and grapeshot, then lashed his ship to ours and boarded us. Straight off, his men killed a good number of our crew. But others, includin’ me, was tied up and hurled like sacks o’ taters onto thee main deck of thee Serendipity. We could hear thee women and children screamin’ and cryin’ below on thee Amelia. But we – we couldna do a thing.” Mr. Brodie lowered his head. “Lord, it was awful hearin’ those babies cry.”After a moment he raised his eyes to James and Fly. “Me and thee others was taken below to Trevelyan’s gaol, and later on it was, I overheard a couple o’ his men say they’d burned thee Amelia.”
James suddenly looked more alert. “How long ago was this, Mr. Brodie?”
“Can’t rightly say, sir, on account I was knocked about thee head badly. Maybe four weeks back.”
“Sir?” Fly looked at James questioningly.
“Mr. Austen, do you recall in Bermuda we were visited by a Captain Prickett and Lord Bridlington from the Amethyst? You were not present at our meeting, but they told me that about four weeks back my old friend William Uptergrove had come upon the debris of a burned merchant vessel, sitting fifty miles southeast of Halifax.” He turned back to Mr. Brodie with a furrowed brow. “Can you offer any explanation as to why your ship was destroyed and not just taken a prize?”
“I canna, sir.”
“Didn’t you say you had plenty of guns?” Fly asked in an agitated manner. “Where were your gunners? How could Trevelyan have taken you by surprise?”
“I’m afraid I dunno, sir. I was off duty at thee time and, well, thee night before I’d had a wee bit too much grog and had been makin’ rather merry. I can tell ya this – our captain was as weak as a woman, sir. He had trouble keepin’ thee men in line.”
“You said that Trevelyan took others from the Amelia besides yourself … How many?” asked James, his fingers clasped beneath his nose. Fly, cognizant of what James was getting at, looked eagerly at Mr. Brodie.
“Don’t rightly know, sir. There was twenty men in thee gaol. Maybe there was others.” Mr. Brodie quickly swallowed his third biscuit. “But this much I can tell ya. Trevelyan took a woman from thee Amelia before he burned her.”
James regarded Mr. Brodie with interest as the Scotman drained his coffee mug.
“I saw him holdin’ Mrs. Seaton roughly like and she screamin’ like a banshee.”
“Mrs. Seaton?”
“Who
