6 August 1793, onboard HMS Demeter, at anchor, Gibraltar

Christopher,

I cannot begin to describe how saddened I am at the news of Kenneth’s decline. Martha had intimated as much, but I had not imagined it to the extent that you describe. I had hoped that the Army would instill a sense of order and responsibility into Kenneth’s life. It appears that such is not to be the case.

Though you may not want to hear this, I must confess that Kenneth’s situation leaves me disappointed in Our Maker. How can The Divine Being endow one of His own with such a nature as is possessed by Kenneth? Then too, there is the disappointment in Kenneth himself, his inability to control his own baser instincts. I should perhaps, be neither so quick nor so harsh to condemn another for a sin of which I am myself guilty, as you shall later see.

As to your suggestion that I might find for him a position in the Navy, that is not likely. Unlike the Army, which offers its commissions to any who have the financial wherewithal to buy them, the Navy requires its potential officers to pass a rigorous examination demonstrating that they have attained at least a minimum level of mastery over the technical aspects of the profession. This knowledge can only be acquired by years of practical experience. While there exists many a midshipman of Kenneth’s age, there are none that began their career so late in life. Besides, it is clear that Kenneth would not adapt well to naval discipline, and I cannot bear the thought of my brother under the cat. I fear that Kenneth’s path lies not in the Navy.

On a pleasanter note, I wish you and Betsy joy on your coming addition. I trust that all goes well with her, and with the children. While I know that it is a great responsibility, I never the less envy you the comfort that your family must bring into your life.

I realize that if ever I am to experience the same, that I must take measures to remedy my current status as an unmarried man. Unfortunately, my chosen profession leaves little time in the company of women, at least of the sort that one would consider for a wife. Furthermore, it requires a special kind of woman to obligate herself to a man who will be so little available to handle the daily requirements of family life. At times I despair of ever finding such.

That is not to say that such women do not exist. I have brother officers, as well as many a Jack Tar, who are married; some of them even happily so. I believe that Martha’s friend, Miss Post, possesses the necessary independence of spirit. Unfortunately, I am not present to press my interests, not that Miss Post has ever provided any indication that such interests would be welcome. Furthermore, while I believe that he is entirely the wrong man, pursuing her for the wrong reasons, I cannot begin to offer the inducements of one such as Guy DuLaine.

Besides Miss Post, I have met another woman of this character here in Gibraltar. Some ten days ago, the Admiral held a ball in honor of our Spanish allies (as I explained to Martha, it seems incongruous to use those two words together.) As you know, I do not shine in such settings. I was content to join some of my like-minded brother officers in a discussion of the finer points of seamanship. Glancing up from the conversation, I beheld a pair of eyes the color of dark chocolate looking upon me over the top of a fan. Their mistress had hair to match. Upon our eyes meeting, she closed upon me.

Lowering the fan, she introduced herself as Lucinda De Grado. She then suggested that I was on the verge of asking her to dance. Recovering my wits, I complied with her suggestion, extending my arm, and was led onto the dance floor. Christopher, you know that I am no great dancer, and it did not take long afore she knew as well. Immediately, she took over the lead without appearing to lead.

Attempting conversation, I asked if her husband would not be upset by her asking another man to dance. She quickly corrected my misapprehension by explaining that she was Senorita De Grado. Senorita De Grado went on to explain that she simply had to meet the man who could be a coward and yet so brazenly show himself in public. I must admit that I was taken unprepared by this remark. With a movement of her eyes she directed my attention to young Mr. Burch.

Mr. Burch was being very animated, talking with several young ladies. He was obviously flushed with alcohol. Senorita De Grado explained that Mr. Burch was relating a tale of his recent exploits during a storm; explaining how he would have been a hero, and another man alive today, had he not been restrained by my cowardly refusal to help. Fixing my eyes with hers, she said that she would not ask if that were true for she could already see the answer. But did not my honor demand action? (I know that this will sound strange, but her voice had the same chocolate flavor as her eyes and hair.) Looking again at Mr. Burch, I concluded that the morning would exact its own revenge for his behavior tonight. Besides which, if his talk were the source of Senorita De Grado’s company, then I was in his debt. We continued to dance as I took in her presence, her fragrance, her touch. In my own way I was becoming as intoxicated, and as careless, as Mr. Burch.

It was then that our dance was interrupted by a Spanish Army officer who demanded to know if I were the coward that had not only refused to help one of my men, but had prevented others from going to his aid. I felt Senorita De Grado stiffen and step away, though I later realized that she still held my hand. Looking over my accuser’s shoulder I could see Mr. Burch go pale. As I have said, I was by this time intoxicated and careless, whether by alcohol or another cause matters not. Proving that at heart, I am no better a man than Kenneth, I goaded my accuser on. I replied that I supposed some of the slower witted representatives of humanity had trouble distinguishing between cowardice and good judgment. By this time, the ballroom was silent.

The Spaniard responded with, “A true Spanish gentleman would not be so slow to defend a challenge to his honor.”

“Something so rare as a Spanish gentleman’s honor no doubt needs quick defending, lest it disappear,” was my reply.

With that, the Spaniard slapped me and issued a challenge. As I accepted, I felt Senorita De Grado release my hand. My challenger, Capitan Ramon De Grado, was Senorita De Grado’s brother.

Seconds were named, Mr. Greene agreeing to serve. The time was set for the next morning, with the seconds to decide the place and weapons. With that, I made my apologies to Senorita De Grado and returned to Demeter. (Christopher, it pains me to confess that I looked forward to teaching Capitan De Grado a lesson, in a most ungentle manner.)

Later that evening, Mr. Greene returned to provide me with the details of the duel. At first, Capitan De Grado’s second had insisted upon selecting pistols as the weapon. He was under the impression that, in accordance with the continental system, the challenger had the right to choose the weapon. Mr. Greene pointed out that Gibraltar was British territory and therefore, the choice of weapon belonged to the challenged party. Mr. Greene chose the sword. De Grado’s second then insisted upon smallswords. Knowing that I am not adept at the smallsword, Mr. Greene suggested that each participant choose his own sword. At first, De Grado’s second was hesitant, but eventually he relented, stating, “an oaf with a cutlass was no match for a real swordsman.” Mr. Greene suggested the duel be to first blood. De Grado’s second responded that of course a coward would fear to face real danger; only a duel to the death could satisfy. So it was set, that on the morrow I would kill a man.

Captain LeJourne also called upon me that evening. He conveyed the Admiral’s official displeasure at my placing the alliance with Spain at risk. He then expressed the Admiral’s private hope that I “teach these Spanish dandies a lesson.” His enthusiasm was dampened when he learned the terms of the duel.

Next morning, Mr. Greene, the surgeon Mr. Marty, and myself arrived at the appointed place. There was a chill in the air and the grass was slick with dew. While the environment was cool, my being was afire with the desire for blood. (You see, Christopher, I am really no better a man than Kenneth.) Capitan De Grado and his party arrived. You cannot imagine my shock when among their number I beheld Senorita De Grado!

The Senorita asked if there could not be an accommodation reached. Both the Capitan and I replied in the negative, though I avoided looking directly at her when giving my reply. I feared that to acknowledge her presence would cost me my resolve. As it was, I could feel a hesitation taking hold. Upon giving our replies, we took up our positions. While Capitan De Grado registered some surprise at the sight of my backsword, rather than the crude cutlass he had obviously expected, to his credit he stood his ground without comment. Of course, he assumed a rigid formal stance. (The Spanish seem so fond of this rigid formality in everything they do, dancing, personal appearance, or fighting.)

Whatever else I may think of Capitan Ramon De Grado, I can fault neither his courage nor his swordsmanship. At the signal to commence he was upon me. There is no doubt that were I to be armed with a smallsword, he would have made quick work of me. As it was, I was hard pressed to fend off his blows, and even harder pressed to launch an attack of my own. Slow to parry, I found De Grado’s blade slipping through the guard on my sword. As the blade sliced open the backs of my fingers, I involuntarily twisted my hand away. In the process, the portion of his blade trapped within the hilt of my sword snapped off.

Now effectively unarmed, De Grado began to back away. In the process, he lost his footing on the dew-slicked grass. My opponent flat on his back, I moved in for the kill. As a thin trickle of blood began where my sword point pricked his throat, I commented that he should have settled for first blood. About to give in to my own bloodlust, I stole one look at those gathered round.

When my gaze fixed upon Senorita De Grado I noticed the quick rise and fall of her breast as well as the flushed excitement in her face and lips. I wanted to kill this man before me and then take her like some wild beast. Then our eyes locked. In her eyes I could still see the excitement. But it was intermixed with fear and something akin to sorrow. In that instant’s gaze, the killing instinct had passed.

Returning my attention to Capitan De Grado, I asked in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “Do you not agree, Senor, that if I but extend my arm then you are dead?” He hesitated a moment. Again I had to admire his courage in light of the situation in which he found himself. After repeating my question, he answered in the affirmative. With that I moved my arm slightly to the side and, extending my arm to its full reach, buried the blade of my sword in the moist earth alongside De Grado’s neck.

“By the terms of the duel, honor has been satisfied,” I announced.

As I was led from the field, I faintly heard Senorita De Grado’s voice speaking to me. The pounding in my ears of my own lust, blood and otherwise, prevented my discerning the words. Mr. Marty bandaged my hand. By the time he was finished, I had returned to my normal senses. However, by then Mr. Greene, Mr. Marty, and myself were alone in the clearing. We returned to Demeter.

Next day I was called on deck to receive a visitor, Senorita De Grado! Her rich chocolate hair and eyes as well as her tea and cream complexion (I do believe that there is a moor in the De Grado family tree) were in sharp contrast to the deep crimson of her lips and dress. She was very solicitous, inquiring after my injury. When I tried to dismiss it as nothing, she took my hand and touched her lips to the bandaged wounds all the while fixing me with a gaze that offered both challenge and promise.

Senorita De Grado thanked me for sparing her brother’s life. She then informed me that though he was a vengeful man, she had extracted from him a promise not to provoke me in her presence. It was the least she could do to preserve the Anglo-Spanish alliance. Of course, it meant that I was not to go ashore except in her company. A small sacrifice that she was prepared to make for the good of all.

I tell you truthfully, Christopher that I have not missed an opportunity to be ashore since that day. Not that I am ever alone with Senorita De Grado. It would not do for a young lady of breeding to be in the company of a man unescorted. We are always accompanied by Senorita De Grado’s maidservant Maria; chosen, I am told, because of her complete lack of English and her reliability. Not that this has afforded me the opportunity to do more than occasionally hold Senorita De Grado’s hand as I help her up or down a stairway. How her presence and touch fills me with a desire to do so much more. Moreover, Senorita De Grado has given clues that more would be to her liking as well. Still, she seems to enjoy my torment.

Just yesterday, she warned me to be careful of her brother. “Ramon is a proud man and he will want his satisfaction,” she warned me. “Please be careful. If he kills you, then I will have lost you. If you kill him, then I will be obligated to hate you, and I will have lost you again. Fortunately, Ramon is a soldier and on land while you are a sailor and at sea. I will pray to the Virgin Mother that the two elements never meet.” With that, she leaned into me, pressing her lips against mine while putting something in my pocket. I placed my arms around her and did not let go until Maria’s third cough. I wanted to possess her, both body and soul. If Kenneth is consumed by his hunger for cards and drink, then I am no less so by Senorita De Grado. As has happened to Kenneth, I fear that my obsession may prove the undoing of my career and reputation!

Pray for my guidance, Christopher. Pray that duty may quickly call me to a shot strewn deck where the only danger is an eager enemy bent upon my death. As you know, I am as a dismasted hulk on a lee shore when it comes to dealing with these other matters.

Incidentally, when I later checked my pocket, it contained a chain and crucifix wrapped in a scented handkerchief. Were I to wear it, as a memento of her rather than as a papist symbol, would that be wrong in the eyes of God and Church?

I will leave it to your judgment as to which details that I have related here are to be shared with Martha and her dear friend Miss Post

Pray for me, your brother,

Edward