Whitelocke was subsequently court-martialled, cashiered, and deemed “totally unfit and unworthy to serve His Majesty in any military capacity whatsoever.”

“Wasn’t the Navy’s fault, Yer Honour, sir! Wasn’t any of our doing!”

When Popham got back to England, he was also called before a court-martial board aboard HMS Gladiator at Portsmouth from March 6th to the 11th, and the sentence was as follows:

The court has agreed that the charges have been proved against the said Captain Sir Home Popham; that the withdrawing, without orders so to do, the whole of any naval force from where it is directed to be employed, and the employing it in distant operations against the enemy, more especially if the success of such operations should be likely to prevent its speedy return, may be attended with the most serious inconvenience to the public service, as the success of any plan formed by His Majesty’s ministers for operations against the enemy, in which such naval force might be included, may by such removal, be entirely prevented. And the court has further agreed that the conduct of the said Captain Sir Home Popham, in the withdrawing the whole of the naval force under his command from the Cape of Good Hope, and the proceeding with it to Rio de la Plata, is highly censurable; but, in consideration of circumstances, doth adjudge him to be only severely reprimanded; and he is hereby severely reprimanded accordingly.

Good looks, good connexions, the “Petti-coat influence” of a good-looking wife, and all the smarm of a used-car salesman pulled Popham through, with only the slightest blot on his escutcheon. He went on to serve, again, zestfully babbling up schemes like former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, and enjoyed a long career … though when he served under “The Gallant Pellew” in 1813–1815, a man rightly famed as one of the finest and boldest frigate captains in the Royal Navy, it was said that Pellew couldn’t stand the sight of him!

Ironically, after this British humiliation, there was one bright spot. The subjects of the Viceroyalty de la Plata, in uniting to defeat and oust the British, turned into revolutionaries intent on winning their independence! On May 25th, 1810, the Primera Junta was formed at Buenos Aires to throw off slothful and ineffective Spanish rule, and establish home rule in the new nation-states of Argentina, Paraguay across the Plate, and Uruguay. News of the Junta caused the beginning of a series of uprisings throughout South and Latin America, culminating in the ultimate military and political victories of Simón Bolívar. Let’s just caution, though, that winning independence didn’t exactly result in Jeffersonian Democracy, as Colonel Mendoza wished to emulate!

A late friend of mine, Bob Enrione, was in Argentina during the Falklands War with a CBS Network news crew, and, due to extremely strict control and censorship by the military junta, had a lot of time on his hands, lounging round the hotel, sampling the famed local wines, and dining very cheaply on incredibly large, fine steak dinners. In the course of his rambles, he did, however, manage to talk with many Argentinans, and got the distinct impression that they thought that they might have been a tad too hasty in kicking the British out! Had they accepted British help in winning independence, they might have had a stable Parliamentary system, fair taxation, the best of older Spanish law and English Common Law combined, as it was in India under the East India Company and the later Raj, they imagined, and their country would have been spared all the “aggro” and “agita” of wars with their neighbours in the 1880s, and a sad parade of juntas, el jefes, and generalissimos that crushed every democracy that they set up. Who knows how it would have turned out? We’ll never know, unless someone wishes to write an alternate-history sci-fi novel. Are there any takers out there?

So, there’s the gallant Alan Lewrie, flat on his back and for a time in swaddles, forced to indulge his lazy streak, for a rare once, ’til he’s strong enough to get back on his feet and make it as far as his quarter-gallery … and his wine-cabinet. The pity of it; all that time abed, and nary a woman in sight! It will be weeks before Reliant will anchor in Table Bay at Cape Town, and he can expect letters from home. Remember, no one told the post packets that he’d sailed off for the Plate Estuary!

When Reliant reaches England, she will surely be paid off, her officers and crew, except for the Standing Officers, scattered to the four winds, and the needs of the Fleet, and she might prove to be his last frigate. Lewrie is senior-enough, and experienced-enough, to be given an active commission into a larger ship. Might she be an older 64-gunner that could still prove useful on foreign stations, or will he be shoved aboard a Third Rate two-decker 74 and end up on gruelling blockade duty, for years on end?

In the back of Lewrie’s mind, there are some dreads, too. As a part of Commodore Popham’s failed expedition, might some of the blame end up harming his career? Will Admiralty even offer him a new commission? Will he heal up sufficiently to accept one? He’s in his fourties, now, and not as spry or as quick to heal as he was in his early years. If his wound cripples or lames him, how dreadful would life be, on half-pay, ashore for good, with no further part to play in ridding the world of Napoleon Bonaparte and his armies of “Frogs”? He’s had his bucolic, peaceful years ’tween the wars, and hated every day of that time! Two or three months of rest would be more than welcome, but the rest of his life? The Navy, and war, are the only things he’s good at!

Idling round his father’s estate at Anglesgreen, smack-dab in the middle of his former in-laws’ spite, his daughter’s bile … Pah! And, would Lydia Stangbourne still think him dashing, assuming that she ever makes up her mind to trust him enough to re-marry? Would Lydia, and no one else, be enough for Lewrie’s libidinous nature? He knows what happens when he’s idle, and his eyes roam.

And, when Reliant pays off, what will become of Biscuit?

I fear you’ll simply have to wait awhile longer to discover the answers to all those posers, but, here’s a wee hint …

Farewell, and adieu, to you Spanish ladies,

Farewell, and adieu, to you ladies of Spain,

For we’ve received orders to sail for old England,

but, we hope very shortly to see you, again!

Also by Dewey Lambdin

The King’s Coat

The French Admiral

The King’s Commission

The King’s Privateer

The Gun Ketch

H.M.S. Cockerel

A King’s Commander

Jester’s Fortune

King’s Captain

Sea of Grey

Havoc’s Sword

The Captain’s Vengeance

A King’s Trade

Troubled Waters

The Baltic Gambit

King, Ship, and Sword

The Invasion Year

Reefs and Shoals

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEWEY LAMBDIN is the author of eighteen previous Alan Lewrie novels. A member of the U.S. Naval Institute and a Friend of the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich, England, he spends his free time working and sailing. He makes his home in Nashville, Tennessee, but would much prefer Margaritaville or Murrells Inlet.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.