A Contrary Wind: a variation on Mansfield Park (Mansfield Trilogy Book 1)

gentle heart would break over it. I will leave it for Gibson, for he says he will write a book about it when we return. But our crew, who are hardened sailors, were weeping for pity and anger when the poor shackled wretches, men, women and children, were brought up on deck, naked, covered in their own filth and vomit, and just as frightened of us as they were of their captors, as they knew not what was going to happen to them. The place of their confinement was something horrible, and the stench and the close air was enough to make a man faint. There were over five hundred of them, and some of them already dying or dead, but still shackled to the living.

We arrested the brig’s crew, and Captain Columbine assigned Lieutenant Tetley and a prize crew to sail the brig back to Sierra Leone where the Africans will be set free. (Although what they will do after being abducted from their homes and then cast ashore with nothing even on their backs, is beyond my knowledge.) The owners of the brig will be fined and the ship confiscated—that will send a message, won’t it?

I would it had been me, of course, in charge of the prize crew and commanding that beautiful new brig, instead of Tetley, but we will all be in Portsmouth by the middle of August, so I do rely upon meeting with all my family again and I hope that you and Mr. Crawford can visit from Norfolk. Perhaps we could meet together in Northamptonshire? I should like to pay my respects to Sir Thomas and all of his family, if I can get leave.

I look in frequently upon our friend Mr. Gibson and I trust that we can bring him safely home to England. I own that I am in some anxiety about him.

Until we meet again, I am,

Your loving brother, William

*   *   *   *   *   *

Fanny and Susan, thankfully, were not long left in ignorance and suspense concerning the fate of the ‘two Williams,’ for on the late afternoon of the first day, while stopping to change their horses in Newmarket, they happened to meet in the inn-yard, a traveler lately from London. Susan, spying a newspaper under his arm, eagerly questioned him. He was able to inform them that the Solebay had run aground during an action against the French colony of Senegal, but that the crew had survived the engagement and had landed in Portsmouth, aboard the Derwent, five days previously.

With many fervent ejaculations of thanks to Providence, the sisters allowed themselves to rest at the Inn for the night, confident that surely their brother and his friend numbered among the sailors safely returned to England.

“There will be a court-martial, you know, Fanny—there always is when a captain loses a ship. All of the officers will be questioned. I fancy that our brother must remain in Portsmouth until then,” Susan explained, and Fanny promised to take Susan home to support their brother, although they had no doubt between them that far from being in any way culpable in the loss of the Solebay, the court-martial testimony would reveal that Second Lieutenant Price’s skill, devotion to duty and exemplary courage had forestalled some greater disaster.

“Will we see dear Mr. Crawford in London?” Susan next enquired, and received, to her astonishment, another perplexed look from her sister, who, to all appearances, needed a moment to recollect the name of her husband! Fanny looked doubtful, she was not sure, but at Susan’s prodding, undertook to write Mr. Crawford at his usual hotel.

The following day brought them to the airy, pleasant country neighbourhood of Stoke Newington, and the handsome home of Mrs. Butters, whom Fanny was extremely pleased to see after so many months. Fanny delighted in the warm and charitable welcome she received from her friend, and mutual reassurances and congratulations were exchanged on the good news respecting the crew of the Solebay.

Fanny was proud to see how well Susan bore her introduction to Mrs. Butters. Susan was wearing one of the new dresses Fanny had provided for her, and her entry into Mrs. Butters’ parlour, her curtsey and her polite replies to her hostess shewed that Fanny’s gentle tutelage had not been in vain. Susan acquitted herself well, even when introduced to another guest of Mrs. Butter’s—her neighbour, Mr. James Stephen, an older gentleman with an intelligent and penetrating gaze. When the girls came to understand that he was a lawyer, and a Member of Parliament, and had, moreover, been the author of the celebrated Act that banned all Englishmen from trading in slaves, they were both pretty well awed into silence.

Mr. Stephen and Mrs. Butters were not indisposed to carry the conversation while the young people listened respectfully; naturally, the adventures of Lieutenant Price and Mr. Gibson were touched upon, but as Mr. Stephen had spent part of his early life in St. Kitts, he tended to view travel and its attendant hardships as salutary for male character, and he declared he would not be who he was today if he had not seen, with his own eyes, scenes of suffering and injustice meted out to the black slaves which, in consideration of the young ladies at table, he would not dwell upon.

After dinner and tea, Susan was discovered to be nodding off in her chair, and she was kindly led upstairs by the maid for a long rest, while Fanny, still delighted to be among such interesting conversationalists, felt she could listen all night. But now that Susan was gone, Mrs. Butters, with an emphatic look, demanded of Fanny that she tell everything relative to her recent marriage. She knew something of Henry Crawford by reputation, and could not imagine that he and Fanny were in any way suited to be husband and wife, although she acknowledged that Fanny had never looked so well and