Susan attributed Fanny’s occasional fits of mental abstraction to the continued absence of her husband Mr. Crawford, and kindly refrained from mentioning him, as Fanny appeared to derive no comfort from the subject.
* * * * * *
May, Isle of Gorée
To Sir Thomas Bertram,
Dear Sir,
I trust this letter finds you and all of your family well. My sister Fanny often wrote to me of her anxieties for your health, during that period of time when you were resident in Antigua. I myself served briefly in the West Indies, and now that I and my fellow shipmates are arrived at the African coast, I fully apprehend her concerns about the insalubrious climate, and the enervating heat of the Tropicks, which has a most enervating effect upon the crew. May your nephew prove to have as strong a constitution as his uncle, and return to England the better and wiser for this experience and may the words of Horace, Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt, not apply to him!
I am finally aboard my ship, the Solebay, and very content to be under so good a commander as Captain Columbine. He is a man of science as well as a mariner, being a hydrographer who surveyed the island of Trinidad. We are currently anchored at the Isle of Gorée, undertaking some repairs to the ship, as best as can be contrived so far from home. We are then to proceed to Sierra Leone, where Captain Columbine will assume the office of governor there.
Our officers dined with the commander of the British garrison here, and he informed us that the French have an outpost nearby in the Gambia River from whence they send privateers to harass our shipping….
….. to close with my most sincere thanks, sir, for everything you have done for me, my sister Fanny and my family. Will you please give my respects to Lady Bertram and the Misses Bertram. I hope to have the honour, sir, of calling upon you and your family upon my return to England.
Your nephew and devoted servant,
Lt. William Price
“Pretty good, Mr. Price,” said William Gibson. “You have used ‘enervating’ twice, but taken as a whole, a fine letter.”
The two Williams were enjoying a rare moment of peace, sheltering from the sun under a small tarpaulin, in a little corner of the deck which was designated the schoolroom aboard the HMS Solebay. Their table was an empty crate and their seats were cut down barrels, and the schoolroom walls consisted of wire cages stuffed with chickens destined for the officers' table. Their rustling and clucking provided a running commentary on the efforts of Lt. Price. He didn’t complain about the distraction because after all, he would have the last word—or rather, the last bite.
“Here is another one for you, Price: causa latet, vis est notissima— ‘the cause is hidden, but the result is well known’. You are learning Latin, you told me, to converse with your brother officers, but perhaps there is another reason—perhaps, you wish to impress a certain uncle, who is father to a certain young lady…..”
William Price grinned. “It’s like that fellow you told me about—that fellow who wrote War in Disguise. He knew that people can have more than one motive for doing a thing.”
“Mr. Stephen. Yes. Clever fox—he saw that Parliament could not be persuaded to outlaw the trade in slaves for moral reasons. So, he made the French slave trade a casus belli, if you will—
“A casus bell-eye?”
“Look it up in your grammar, Mr. Price. First, Parliament made it illegal for we English to have anything to do with the French slave trade—to hurt Napoleon. From there, the Abolitionists in Parliament were able to outlaw the English trade as well. Why does Parliament vote the funds for the West African Squadron to patrol the coastline here, when you might suppose that no ships could be spared from the war with the French? Perhaps the actions of His Britannic Majesty’s government are entirely benevolent. Or perhaps, there is this advantage to be gained by driving the French and their slave ships from the coast of Africa. England’s navy will control this entire coastline, which means that our ships will have a monopoly on palm oil and ground nuts and other trade items which are becoming more valuable.”
“Such as ivory,” added William Price. “And perhaps even some of their curious manufactures. I have a small statue I bought in Gibraltar off of a chap who had rounded the Horn, I must show it to you.”
“I should be more grateful if you had anything at all to read, lieutenant. Anything besides your Latin grammar and the Young Midshipman’s Instructor, that is.”
“Sorry, Gibson. I have owned some books coming and going, but the only thing I keep with me is my sister’s letters. As a matter of fact, I have the letter she wrote which describes her first meeting with you in Bristol.”
“Oh, indeed?”
* * * * * *
The calendar proclaimed that summer reigned, but the London skies were overcast and gloomy. Sir Thomas had returned to his study on Wimpole Street, and was reviewing the terms of his sale of the majority of his Antigua properties, when a timid rap at the door was followed by the entrance of his daughter Maria, whose countenance caused him to set down his papers and focus his attention on her with the alarm of a truly fond and affectionate parent. She had not been in good looks or temper since that day when she read of Crawford’s marriage to Fanny; but he had hoped to see, by this time, some improvement in her health and spirits.
“Father...” Maria began, with a voice and manner so truly agitated, so expressive of despair,
