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you, no doubt. I had viewed unheralded retirement as the more productive option, but find the Admiralty disagrees. Captaincy is a chapter in my life I thought had been read and closed. But…” here his voice drifted off as if into a dark chasm. “Here I am. Aye, happily active again. Amongst all of you, young and vigorous chaps, eager to serve King and Country. Well, I say we get on with it. Aye, let us simply get on with it.” He eyed the sheath of papers before Mr. Whitehead. “What are they, Mr. Whitehead?”
    “Ship’s accounts, sir,” answered Whitehead. “Crew shortages, supplies—”
    “Mr. Whitehead, you will find my appetite for detail is slim indeed,” instructed Hearne. “In future, no report should take longer to deliver than it takes to cinch a noose. Understood?”
    “Aye, aye, sir.”
    “This follows with all of you, “continued Hearne. “I do not wish to spend my hours grieving incidentals or foraging through records. I find that officers who know nothing else always know the rules and the facts, and brandish them like marlinspikes. Don’t belabor them, gentlemen.”
    Despite his untidy appearance, I was impressed with Jacob Hearne, for he exuded a natural self-possession and easy confidence. His voice, too, had an appealing cadence and a charm that rose from him like a bird on the wing. There was also the glint of humor behind his eyes. Indeed, this man’s character was expanding away from my first cold observations.
    Hearne turned to the gentleman who had entered along side him and with a dismal, impatient gesture urged the man forward.
    “This, gentlemen, is Lord Douglas Greyson, who will now address you with regard to our mission. Lord Douglas is a representative from the British East India Company, so your respect and diligence is to be expected. I believe, if I am not mistaking, that you and Mr. Brooks here are relations.”
    The men barely deigned so much as a nod to one another. On a closer inspection I noted that Greyson’s dress was modest. His clear blue eyes were a match for Mr. Brooks’, as well as the frame of his face and hair. Indeed, except for their countenance, they might be brothers.
    Despite having seen him steadily over the days aboard ship, I had not taken Mr. Brooks’ measure. As I now observed the two, side by side, I realized that Mr. Brooks was a much younger man than I had supposed, perhaps in his early twenties, as was his cousin. Joseph Brooks was a more delicate model of the family mold. There was an almost feminine sensitivity around the eyes, his long, tapering fingers, a languid cast about the mouth, and a tender gleam of condescension off set by his rosy cheeks. He recalled a portrait in miniature of the English nobleman. My intuition hinted that he had been a victim of those sweet features, as much as the envy of his wealth. In his view, Mr. Brooks’ s elevated position bestowed on him a true vision of wisdom of society’s ills, and for that he was grateful—and obliged. One sensed that the only sound that reached his ears was the loud drumbeat of his rectitude.
    In Lord Douglas, by contrast, one discerned a very different tune. He heard keenly every nuance around him. Not the slip of a shadow escaped his cautious eye. The two likenesses were so different in disposition that they made strangers of themselves.
    “We are, sir,” answered Mr. Brooks after a moment’s hesitation. “Though we have not had the pleasure of a close connection.”
    “My cousin represents the more exulted annals of our family,” Greyson returned politely and in good humor. “Of whom we are all quite proud. My ancestors were somewhat less prudent with their resources.”
    Greyson carried with him an embossed satchel with the gold insignia of the Crown, which he placed on the table before the officers.
    “Gentlemen,” said he, “we will be heading south soon, then east, breaking away from the convoy. We will be on course to the African coast, then to the Indies and