Page 1 of Pride of Duty

Prologue

Algiers

August 25, 1816

Dr. Cullen MacCloud,assistant surgeon on theHMS Leander, curled the sleeping baby closer to his chest and calculated the best moment to run for the shore boat waiting at the quay to evacuate English dependents. The oppressive heat made the night feel like he was slogging through tepid bath water.

For every few steps he advanced closer to the harbor, he stopped and listened for sounds of being followed, an exercise made almost impossible by the loud buzzing of clouds of insects near the ocean. There was no wind, not a breath of air, which accounted for the insects.

Every few minutes he would lift the baby’s face level with his ear to make sure he was still breathing evenly, but not rousing to wakefulness. There was a fine line between how much laudanum an infant could be given to keep the child from crying, but not endanger its life.

When the crackling of a branch betrayed someone walking toward him, he froze and ducked behind a huge, flowering bush of wild roses. Then he relaxed and stepped back out. “Oh, it’s you…”

Chapter One

50º47’56.36”N, 1º5’28.5”W

Portsmouth, England

August 1820

Dr. Cullen MacCloudtipped back the too-dainty chair in the small Portsmouth tea shop and threw a stern look at the sullen young man across from him. He hated having to make do with furniture not built to accommodate his broad shoulders and bulk.

He pushed his feet flat onto the floor and leaned forward to better intimidate William Morton, the most impertinent excuse for a physician’s assistant he’d ever encountered. He could not for the life of him fathom why his predecessor, the recently deceased ship’s surgeon, had importuned the captain to make sure (in writing) the young man would be able to continue to work alongside him in the ship’s surgery.

Cullen had hoped getting away from the ship to a different setting might soften the slight young man’s demeanor. Instead, the damned cod lifted his chin, still belligerent, as if he could challenge Cullen’s words.

Christ, but he’d had a hell of a week. First, he’d had a hopeless argument with his father. The bastard had used his court influence to get Cullen assigned away from his former Captain Arnaud Bellingham to the current posting. Arnaud was still awaiting final overhaul and crewing of his prize ship, theBlack Condor, to return to the West African Squadron, and had moved to Portsmouth with his new wife, Sophie.

Cullen had hoped until the very last moment he could somehow thwart his father’s ambitions, but he’d lost the battle. No one in the Royal Navy fought the Admiralty once a decision had been made. He’d been aboard theHMS Arethusafor a full week, and sharing quarters with the former surgeon’s peevish offspring.

He’d been pleasantly surprised at how well organized and kept the surgery had been on his arrival. Most of the time, he and William had inventoried medical supplies. Cullen had gone over Dr. Andrew Morton’s logs for the last two years to get an idea of the state of the health of the officers and crew.

Young Morton had been very thorough in his accounting of the surgery, and helpful in explaining the ship’s shifts and routines. Cullen had not been surprised at the daily line of crewmen seeking medical assistance. When a ship was in port for provisioning, or re-fit, the men tended toward boredom, which in turn produced a steady stream of “ailments.” Once they were back at sea, and in action, the medical complaints would slow to a trickle.

He leaned closer to the argumentative young man. “Why can ye not see the wisdom in leaving the ship to continue yer studies in Edinburgh? Surely yer late father would want ye to follow in his profession.”

“I’ve been trained thoroughly by my father. Why, I know more than most of the second-year students at Edinburgh Medical School.”

Cullen sat up, re-assessing the rude young twig. “Then why not get at least yer first year so ye can set up a proper practice? What’s keeping ye here?”

He couldn’t see the young man’s neck for the voluminous wrapped neckcloth he affected, but he imagined that part of his anatomy burned as brightly as his boyish face. However, something about the long, sooty lashes framing cool gray eyes nagged and buzzed like an obnoxious fly at the back of Cullen’s brain.

“How old are you? Ye’ve not even the beginnings of a beard. Who are you to tellmeye know so much? I’vebeento Edinburgh. I completed my studies there, and I’ve been serving the King’s Navy ever since.”

William snapped his face away from Cullen’s inspection and stood, staring a long time out a window near their table. He turned suddenly, his face still a shade of scarlet. “I can see you resent my presence in the surgery, Dr. MacCloud. I won’t impose upon you any longer. I’m sure one of my father’s associates would be glad to have my assistance.”

With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door only to be intercepted by the one of theArethusa’smarines.

Cullen rose from the table at the look on the marine lieutenant’s face.

“Dr. MacCloud, Mr. Morton. We need you. There’s been an accident. Two men were fighting and fell from the tops.”

Cullen turned to hasten out the door in the wake of the marine and was a little surprised to see young William fall in behind without a sound. The boy’s usually dour face transformed into one of concern, and intent. It was only then he realized the insolent cub hadn’t revealed his age. What was he trying to hide?

Cullen raced across the deck of theArethusaand slid down the steps accessing the surgery below decks. The two sailors had already been laid out on the wide operating table in the center of the sick bay. One of them still shrieked in agony while the second man was eerily silent. A great deal of blood pooled beneath the surgery slab.

After stopping to shed his uniform jacket, Cullen moved quickly to the side of the quiet patient whose eyes stared vacantly toward the bulkhead separating the surgery from the gun room. He pressed his fingers to the side of the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Since the man had not appeared to have fallen into the water, and the day was mild, Cullen carefully closed the man’s eyes after a few minutes of no life signs.