Free Tested by Fate by David Donachie

stay upright.”
    It was a noisy, quarrelsome group who entered the great cabinof Boreas , yet they were overly polite in the way they gave precedence to each other, as if to underline to this upstart naval fellow that they were all men of position. Nelson looked hard for his host from Nevis, and was relieved to see that Herbert wasn’t present. He stood to greet them, indicating that Lepée was standing by with refreshments, and waited until they all had a glass in their hands before raising his own. “Gentlemen, the King!”
    “The King,” they replied in unison, drinking and talking noisily to each other. To their rear Lepée joined in the toast and downed another glass.
    “Who is our anointed Sovereign, gentleman,” Nelson continued. “He has, through his ministers, instituted a series of laws known as the Navigation Acts.” That rendered the group silent and wary. “You know what these are so I won’t bore you with repetition. What I will say is this. That a laissez faire attitude to the landing of illicit cargoes falls without those laws. I will therefore see it as my duty to clap a stopper on such activity. From now on any foreign vessel claiming the need to land a cargo, may do so.”
    That made a few, the more foolish ones, nod. Other wiser minds were staring at him as though he was some kind of animal to hunt. “That cargo will be seized by His Majesty’s customs officials and destroyed. It will not be sold through the back door. Any customs officer colluding in such an act will end up in my cable tier, there to repent his sins.”
    The cabin erupted, each man shouting in an attempt to overcome his neighbour. Hughes was mentioned somewhere in that cacophony, as were justice, poverty, local rights, and the inadvisability of such high-handed tactics. Nelson stood in the face of this barrage, thinking it worse than cannon fire, until it began to subside.
    “The law rules in these islands, as elsewhere. If you wish it changed I suggest that my cabin is not the place to make your representations.”
    “You will regret this, Captain!” shouted one voice, exciting a general murmur of agreement.
    “How can I, sir, regret doing what is right?”

    “I cannot do other than agree with you, Captain Nelson,” said John Herbert, apprised of what had happened, though surprised to receive another visit so soon from Nelson, “though it is like to cost me dear.”
    They were walking in his gardens again, with Fanny Nisbet and Midshipman Andrews several paces to the rear, Josiah between them holding a hand of each. A sudden laugh from George Andrews caused the face of the boy’s sister to come to Nelson’s mind, which he suppressed quickly and guiltily. How long ago that seemed, St Omer and the beautiful Kate, yet it was only eighteen months.
    “I am grateful for that, sir,” Nelson said, aware that Herbert was expecting a reply.
    Herbert stopped, frowning, closing the gap between themselves and those bringing up the rear. “But you will struggle, Nelson, to persuade others of the rightness of what you do. You fail to understand the nature of the beast you attempt to control. As men they suffer from all the follies and vanities that are prevalent. They make vast sums after the harvest, yet spend even more to display the extent of their wealth. Every year most are obliged to mortgage their land to find the money to carry out planting, which they pay back from their crop before frittering the residue on outdoing each other once more. They drink heavily, gamble to excess, and purchase luxuries with an abandon that would shame a sultan.”
    “You do not fall into that trap, sir,” Nelson replied, with some feeling.
    “I have better land and I have husbanded my resources when times are lean. I must say, most of my fellow sugar planters do the opposite.”
    “I cannot lay aside the law to oblige the profligate.”
    “No. But do not think for one moment that reason will affect their opinions.”
    The group behind