The Judge Admiral held out a staying hand.
He looked to Cuthie and Massey. “I am merely looking for facts here, gentlemen, not personal commentary. If and when I require that, I will ask for it. So please continue, Captain. Members of your crew broke Mrs. MacTavish out of the brig and then what?”
“They attempted to assault her person. Mr. Chen intervened. There was a scuffle, and Mr. Chen was stabbed in the chest.”
Eilidh swallowed.
The burst of her memories settled into a more orderly sequence of events.
Hands binding her, holding tight.
The coxswain leering at her.
Her struggling, wrenching her arms, fighting to get free. Screaming. Kicking.
Mr. Chen yelling, fighting to reach her.
And then blood. So much blood.
She closed her eyes, absorbing the wave of grief.
So senseless for Mr. Chen to die by such violence. Senseless for him to die at all.
And yet, so true to his kind nature—he was killed while attempting to assist a friend.
The Judge Admiral scribbled more in his book. “And then what happened, Captain? I’m assuming the men who murdered Mr. Chen and attempted to rape Mrs. MacTavish were summarily disciplined? Perhaps even executed for their crimes?”
Eilidh heard a scornful exhale from behind her. Rafe, perhaps?
Cuthie had likely encouraged the men in their attack on her. He would have done nothing to avenge Mr. Chen’s death.
“Well, my lord,” Cuthie hedged, “I figured the men had been driven tae a sort of temporary madness by Jamie’s feminine wiles. It hardly seemed fair to punish them for it.”
Silence.
The Judge Admiral stared at Cuthie through his quizzing glass. “Your men rose up in insurrection and murdered a member of your crew, and you did . . . nothing?”
Cuthie flushed a deeper red.
Yes, Eilidh thought.Let the man squirm.
Mr. Patterson cleared his throat. “Captain Cuthiewasmost censorious of Mrs. MacTavish’s deleterious effect on the crew in his previous statement, my lord.”
“Of course, he was, Mr. Patterson.” The Judge Admiral snorted. “However, it seems to me that if one small woman could cause such chaos, perhaps Captain Cuthie’s ability to properly govern his men is suspect.”
“Pardon?” Cuthie’s voice rose. “Are ye implying I dinnae know my own job?”
“That ispreciselywhat I am stating, Captain,” the Judge Admiral’s voice cracked through the room. “There is nothingimpliedabout it. In a well-run ship, a lone woman in the brig would cause no harm, much less a riot. However, under slipshod leadership, sailors can and will find any excuse to behave badly.”
“Hear, hear,” a voice muttered behind Eilidh. It sounded like Andrew.
“Now see here, yourloftylordship,” Cuthie snarled, standing up and taking a menacing step forward. “I didnae travel halfway around the world tae have my good name maligned—”
“As ye were, Captain,” the constable at the door barked. “Sit down.”
Cuthie whirled, glaring at the man. With a harrumph, he returned to his seat, but not before shooting a lethal look at Eilidh.
Her heart pulse drummed in her ears.
