White puffed out his florid cheeks. 'Yes, I was there and my presence seemed to infuriate Morris. I suppose he thought I was going to mention his unpleasant habits. He began to complain about you. Minor matters; the way you did not always refer to him when shortening sail, you know the sort of thing. He kept looking at me as if I might contradict him. I could smell rum on his breath and could see he was enunciating his words with care. He began some cock and bull allegations that you were poisoning him. I didn't like the sound of that! I could tell Losack was taking an interest and I asked Morris why he struck to the Romaine.' White laughed.
'By heaven, that threw him flat aback! He looked at me with his jaw hanging like a scandalised gaff. Then he began a stream of meaningless abuse, interspersed with occasional reference to you and poison. He was beside himself and in the middle of this outburst he had what I took at first to be a fit. In fact I understand it to have been a gastric spasm.'
White paused, refilled his glass and continued. 'Although it was obvious that Morris was ill, or drunk, or both, Losack fretted over the allegations of poisoning. I'm certain he had it in mind to put the matter to a court-martial, he had sufficient ships here to convene one. While I thought Morris had gone off his head he thought you were mad.'
'Me?'
'Aye, you. I showed him the letter in which you claimed the commission granted Morris had been intended for you.'
'Oh, my God… I thought you had. But that was a private letter, Richard, I had no idea…'
'I know, I know, my dear fellow, but it did the trick. Losack wanted to see you, and once he had the doctor's diagnosis and had studied your report he knew the truth as well as I did. But for a while I thought he would have you examined! He quoted Euripides at me. Er, "Whom God destroys he first makes mad".'
'That might more readily be applied to Morris.'
'To which,' White pressed on, not to be deterred, 'I managed to reply with a snippet of Horace, to wit "Ira furor brevis est"'.'
'I'm sorry, you have the advantage of me.'
'"Anger is a brief madness".'
'Ahhh.' Drinkwater leaned back in his chair. He had had a narrow escape from a dangerous vindictiveness. 'I am greatly indebted to you, Richard.'
White waved his thanks aside. 'I owed you for your support on the Cyclops against the unsavoury rakehell.'
'Well the score is even now,' said Drinkwater. 'I suppose I had better see Morris. Try to make my peace with him before we leave.'
White looked at him sharply. 'See Morris? What the devil for? Let the bastard rot.'
'But he is ill, Richard…'
'Strap me, Nat, you are a soft-hearted fool. But 'tis why we love you, Bruilhac's limbs notwithstanding. Besides, Morris would not thank you for it. He would misconstrue your motives, assume you had come to gloat. There is no point in seeing Morris. Ever again.' The remark seemed final and White tossed off his glass. Refilling it, he too eased back in his chair. The cabin filled with a companionable silence, broken only by the creak of the hull, the groaning of the rudder chains and the occasional muffled noise from the people forward. Drinkwater felt a massive weight lift from him. White's explanation had cleared the air of lingering doubts, images of Elizabeth and the yet unseen Charlotte Amelia floated in the blue cheroot smoke. He felt a great contentment spread through him.
'I recollect another piece of Horace that is perhaps more apposite to the case,' said White at last. '"Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt". Which rendered into English is, "They change their skies but not their souls who run across the sea".'
And looking across the table at his flushed friend Drinkwater nodded his agreement.
Author's Note
Detractors of Napoleon have insinuated that his Indian project was a fantasy of St Helena. There is evidence, however, to suggest there was a possibility that he contemplated such an expedition in 1798 or 1799. Certainly Nelson regarded it seriously enough to send Lieutenant Duval overland to Bombay after his victory at the Nile, and as late as November 1798 the dissembling Talleyrand suggested it.
The British attack on Kosseir is rather obscure. Even that most partial of historians, William James, admits that Daedalus and Fox shot off three quarters of their ammunition to little effect. He finds it less easy to explain how about a hundred diseased French soldiers, the remnants of two companies of the 21st Demi-brigade under Donzelot, could drive off a British squadron of overwhelming power. Perhaps this is why he makes no mention of Hellebore's pressence, since Captain Ball did not do so in his report, thus saving a little credit for the British.
The senior officers who appear in these pages actually existed. Rear Admiral Blankett commanded the Red Sea squadron at this time, though his character is my own invention. So too is Mr Wrinch, though a British 'agent' appears to have resided at Mocha at about this period.
The part played by Edouard Santhonax is not verified by history, but the consequences of his daring are the only testimony we have to Nathaniel Drinkwater's part in this small campaign. Napoleon later complained that the British had a ship wherever there was water to float one. The brig Hellebore was one such ship.
As to sources of other parts of the story, the mutiny on the Mistress Shore is based on the near contemporary uprising on the transport Lady Shore, while the presence of women on British men-of-war was not unknown.
For proof of drunkenness and homosexuality in the navy of this time I refer the curious to the contemporary evidence of Hall, Gardner and Beaufort amongst others. Much may also be inferred from other diarists.