Chapter 5

Over the next two weeks, Anson inspected his district. He requisitioned the Lady Jane schooner for travelling, but still, there was a lot of walking to do for him. He rested as much as possible between inspections, but it seemed as if he needed less time to recuperate with every shore visit.

Dartmouth Castle was quite impressive. A battery had been added to the medieval core boasting five huge 68-pounder guns and truly commanding the river estuary. The officer in command, Lt. Mackeray, was energetic and able, and Anson had the best impression.

The Rame Head battery was another matter. Lt. Everson, the commanding officer, could not be found when Lady Jane anchored in the river mouth and Anson went ashore. He had not left any instructions on where to find him, and the battery was under the supervision of a fat young midshipman who was woefully incompetent if eager. Anson left a message for Everson demanding a written explanation for his absence.

Anson also inspected a few smaller posts on horseback. The volunteers were to be assembled for exercises once a week, and Anson reorganised those exercises in a way that allowed him to supervise them as often as possible. He reasoned that a poor performance in the Sea Fencibles would forever bar him from sea going commands, and he made it clear to his subalterns that no dereliction of duty would be tolerated.

The mare on which he made his inspections was named Maggie and proved to be a most gentle creature with a soft gait. Anson mostly walked her, since a trot or canter were beyond his abilities for the time being. Yet, on the back of the dapple grey mare he was able to get around, and he began to enjoy those outings. For a man who for most of the previous years had been confined to the decks of a frigate, the vast expanse of land was a delightful change.

With a little guilty conscience, he began to ride out even when he had no particular purpose. Those were short rides for an hour or less, but with each day he gained confidence. The exercise more than anything made him regain strength in his badly mangled leg, and soon he was able to limp short distances without the help of his crutch.

He also gained some use of his stump. With proper bending of the copper strips inside the glove he could soon support his brass telescope with the dummy left hand while holding the eyepiece with his right.

The progress made him less self-conscious around the townspeople. Being used to the closeness of a wardroom, he spent most evenings in the common room of the inn, mostly sitting with the shipwrights and ship owners. He gained knowledge both in the ship building crafts but also in the trades, while in turn impressing his counterparts with his insights in navigation and ship handling.

When his leg got better, he would also frequent other inns and taverns, much to Libby's displeasure, but there he would meet the rest of Salcombe's leading citizens. The local physician, Dr. Holbrook, was a man of over sixty years; yet he made his calls on horseback for at least five miles around. He inspected the leg wound and the stump and declared them to have healed properly. He was full of curiosity about the life on board His Majesty's ships and confessed that it had always been his dream to sail aboard one of them.

Colonel Maynard's adjutant, Lt. Greves, was also one of the regulars in the inns. He was a florid-faced, well-fed chap who found his appointment with the militia quite a boon compared with regular army service. He was, nevertheless, a sharp fellow, Anson found, and a superb Whist player. He had to be, for Colonel Maynard was an avid player who invited the other noted enthusiasts of the town to his house for a once-weekly evening at cards.

When it became known that Anson was a serious player as well, he and his three main partners, namely Dr. Holbrook, Lt. Greves, and Mr. Hapling, the mayor, began to meet once a week in the Mermaid. The venue was of course less splendid than the card room at Morton Hall, but there was ale on tap and two pretty publican's daughters to serve it, which facts weighed heavily with the gentlemen.

Within the course of two months, Captain Jeremiah Anson was very much accepted in Salcombe. The only exception was Colonel Maynard. Anson never received an answer to his question whether it would be permitted to coerce smugglers into spying against the French, and he never received a note of thanks for the two wax tablets he had sent for Miss Maynard's use. Not from the Colonel at least.

On a Sunday after church service which he felt compelled to attend, when he was leaving the church, he suddenly felt a soft hand on his left arm. He flinched a little, for the stump was still a little tender, and he turned to look into the chagrined face of Elizabeth Maynard.

Nothing could have quenched his pain faster! He bowed to her to hide his fluster and when he looked up she held up a small wax tablet in a silver frame. On it, he read, 'Thank you for this wonderful idea!'.

"Miss Maynard, it gladdens me to have been of assistance to you," he answered.

She took a beautiful silver stylus and added words to the tablet. She held it for him to see.

'It changed so much for me!'

"And now I am reaping the benefit of it, Miss Maynard, for you can address and command me, thus giving my life a purpose."

'Flatterer!' she scribbled, but he could see the dimples on both sides of her mouth. Then she scribbled furiously again. 'Will you accompany me on a ride this afternoon?'

"Nothing could give me more pleasure, Miss Maynard. Is your father in agreement?"

She simply nodded and smiled, but then she scribbled again. '4 bells?' She grinned mischievously having mocked his Navy background but also displaying a little knowledge of seafaring.

"I shall call upon you, and I can hardly await it," Anson replied.

Even if this was a simple courtesy on her part, a gesture of gratitude, he could not think of anything better than to ride out with Elizabeth Maynard.

Two o' clock found him waiting in front of Morton Hall. A groom was there already holding Miss Maynard's horse in readiness. She appeared not more than two minutes later, dressed in a red riding costume that complimented her own colours and accentuated her trim figure. She climbed her chestnut mare with the groom's assistance and gave Anson a smile pointing to a path leading in northern direction.

"I shall follow your lead, Miss Maynard, and trust your sense of direction," Anson declared.

Following her lead at first also allowed him to watch her lithe figure sitting her horse in side-saddle. She rode her mare with ease and made certain not to leave him behind. Anson was not yet able to ride at a trot, and she must have known it because she picked a slow pace.

To that day, Anson had mostly ridden towards the coast where his duty was, but Elisabath Maynard led him into unfamiliar country. Most of it was cultivated in some form, but here and there a patch of fallow land or woods made for a welcome change. Finally, she halted her horse at a crossroads and waited for him to catch up.

Pulling out her wax tablet she scribbled and showed it to him.

'This is the boundary of Father's lands, ' it read.

"He must draw a good income," Anson answered soberly. The son of a caretaker, he was certainly impressed.

Smilingly, she scribbled again, 'We live well enough.'

"I should think you do, Miss Maynard," Anson nodded. He changed the subject. "You are an accomplished horsewoman."

Again, she scribbled. 'It is one of my pleasures, besides reading.'

"It must be lonesome for you to live here in Devon."

She shook her head and scribbled, 'I would not fit in with society.'

"Because of your..."

She nodded sadly.

"Forgive my asking, but is there no cure?"

She shrugged, not bothering to write her answer. Sadness began to encroach her features. Hurriedly, Anson changed topics.

"What book are you currently reading if I may ask?"

She blushed a little. 'An account of the Battle of Trafalgar, by Mr. Hacklethorpe.'

"That is a peculiar reading for a young lady. I admit to knowing neither the work nor Mr. Hacklethorpe. Was he on Lord Nelson's or Lord Collingwood's staff?"

A shake of her head and a smile were her answers.

"I see. He compiled from the Gazette reports?"

She nodded again. 'He is an admiral," she wrote.

Anson smiled. "Then he should be competent enough."

"Where from do you get books anyway? I have not found a bookseller in Salcombe."

She had to erase the written lines on the tablet before she could answer his question. 'We travel to Plymouth once a month.'

He nodded. "Yes, that was my thinking. How do you get there? By ship or by post-chaise?"

'Never by ship, ' she scribbled, but it was her wistful facial expression that gave him an idea.

"I have the schooner Lady Jane under my command. I am bound to travel to Plymouth once every three months to deliver my report to Rear-admiral Chalke. Perhaps, you and your father may want to accompany me as my guests?"