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thing to pass on verbally what she had witnessed at her husband’s court martial, quite another to put pen to paper and list the lies spoken. He had, of course,reminded her that she could not testify against her husband, so the written words were for information only. Yet that being true, what purpose were they designed to serve? A man as senior as Parker must have a reason, but if he had, there was no mention of what it might be in his wording.
    For a moment, she deeply regretted being too open with him, and had the same feeling about the way she had previously gone to John Pearce and, in the presence of Heinrich Lutyens, told them both what had happened. Meant only for information, matters had spiralled out of control; the thought of a trial for perjury had never entered her head until Pearce proclaimed it as his intention. And that growling voice in the jolly boat, telling Martin Dent to shut up, what did that mean? Keeping secrets on board ship, she had soon discovered, was a near impossibility, so her fractured relationship with her husband would be no mystery. Added to that, every man jack aboard would know the court martial evidence to be a tissue of lies. Not that they would say so, for if tars were endemically curious, they were also very tight-lipped and protective of their ship.
    Taking up her quill, she penned a quick reply to Admiral Parker, declining his invitation to commit anything to paper. Sanded, folded and sealed, she was contemplating the notion of Shenton delivering it when she made an abrupt decision. Her husband’s steward could not be trusted, neither could Gherson! It would set tongues wagging no end, but she went out on to the deckand asked if Martin Dent was free to come to the main cabin. In the five minutes which passed before he arrived she nearly changed her mind and tore up the reply, and when he came in, the look on the boy’s face was not one to reassure her; he was not the cheeky scamp now, indeed he looked, as he whipped off his cap, very worried.
    â€˜Martin,’ she said, ‘I am allowed to call you that, I think?’
    He touched his forelock. ‘You are, ma’am.’
    â€˜Could I ask you to come a little closer?’
    On the other side of the door Cornelius Gherson was shocked; surely she was not going to debauch the boy? That only lasted a second before he recovered himself, and castigated his own habit of seeing something sensational in what had to be innocuous. It was galling, though, that he could no longer clearly hear what was being said.
    â€˜I wish you to carry out an errand for me, Martin,’ Emily murmured into an ear now no more than a foot from her mouth. ‘I want you to take a note to the flagship of Lord Hood and give it into the hand of Admiral Hyde Parker. There are boats going to and from
Victory
all the time and you will surely have little trouble getting transport in one.’
    â€˜That would mean me going off the ship, ma’am, an’ for that I’d need the permission of the captain.’
    If Martin saw how that notion flustered her he did not react. ‘Could not Mr Glaister give you that in my husband’s absence?’
    â€˜He could, ma’am, but I would be a’feart to propose it to him.’
    â€˜No doubt he would oblige, if I asked.’
    â€˜Reckon he would, ma’am,’ the youngster replied, after a significant pause.
    â€˜Wait here, Martin,’ Emily said, sweeping past him and going out of the door. As her footsteps receded they were replaced with the head of Cornelius Gherson, skipping back from the hutch into which he had hurriedly retreated, his straw blond hair flopping forward and his girlish face bearing a genial look.
    â€˜Why Martin Dent, how do you fare?’
    Martin did not like Gherson, indeed he thought there were few souls born who did, he being what was termed a treacherous sod. He had been pressed into the frigate at the same time as Pearce and his mates,