Felix Wild and the Great Tea Race

By Peter Broadbent

Captain Achilles De’Kedge, veteran of the Royal Navy and mentor of young Felix Wild, has died. His wooden foot - an object strangely coveted by his friend Mrs Sparrow - takes pride of place next to his coffin at the funeral. But the Captain has left something else behind, in addition to a plethora of illegitimate offspring spread throughout the world: a bequest that will set up Felix for life.

Before he can barely take in what this will mean for his future, Felix receives an offer from the Admiralty: to travel to China on a clipper in the Great Tea Race of 1866 and to make drawings of what he sees. The voyage takes him first from Portsmouth to Capetown on board a steamship full of female convicts (a source of fascination to the red-blooded nineteen-year-old) before he transfers to the clipper Attitude for the onward voyage. Along the way he learns what ‘owt’ means in Yorkshire dialect, why the vessel’s captain keeps two cockroaches in his beard, why ‘voracious’ is a good description of the captain’s wife Juggy, and how to fool people into thinking he speaks an obscure foreign language.

This third and final volume of the seafaring adventures of Felix Wild is a gripping read, with all the pace, wit and colour that readers have come to expect from Peter Broadbent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chaplin Books
• Release date: Nov 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781911105497

Book preview

1: A Well-Intentioned Gift

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Thursday the twenty-second day of June 1865 is a typical London summer’s day: wet. A group of damp and hopeful men and women sit shoulder-to-shoulder on bare wooden benches in the anteroom of Tackleton & Taylor, Attorneys at Law on Ropemakers Street, Limehouse.

Mister Ansell Tackleton stands imperious but watery-eyed behind a stout wooden lectern. He adjusts his new eye-glasses. The sound of yet another squall of London rain hitting the slate roof briefly interrupts his train of thought. He sniffs and looks judgmentally to the heavens. Two black-frocked women on the front bench are eagerly awaiting details of the closing bequest of the Last Will and Testament of Captain Achilles De’Kedge.

Felix Wild, sitting alongside Mrs Sparrow on the third row bench, is casting his eye over the dusty framed portraits of bewigged luminaries that are hung at badly spaced intervals on the papered walls. A number are perfectly hung but most are clearly on a slant. Felix wonders why nobody has seen fit to align them correctly.

Mister Ansell Tackleton taps his lectern and scans his audience.

‘Finally,’ he says, reading from the document in front of him, ‘my freehold London property, fully devoid of liens, mortgages or loans of any description or kind...’ He pauses for effect, readjusts his papers and looks directly at the two black-frocked women on the front row. Coughing into the cuff of his jacket he composes himself, wipes his chin and takes a deep breath. ‘My apologies – the damp weather has the better of me today.’

A man encased within a ragged gabardine coat on the far right of the front bench stamps his booted feet. There is an impatient grumble from the back of the room.

‘Where was I?’ Mister Tackleton adjusts his eye-glasses again and scans his papers.

‘Get on wi’ it, man!’ says the coated man.

‘If you will bear with me, sir.’ Mister Tackleton starts reading quickly: ‘My freehold London property, fully devoid of liens, mortgages or loans of any description or kind, I bequeath in its entirety to my most gifted student and acquaintance, Master Felix Wild.’

Hearing his name clearly, Felix stops adjusting the picture frames in his mind and sits up straight. He looks to Mrs Sparrow.

There is a noticeable sharp intake of breath and a shuffling of feet. The two women on the front bench swerve as one to search the benches behind them for the Captain’s most gifted student.

Mrs Sparrow places a comforting hand on Felix’s knee.

‘One important caveat is attached to this gift of property,’ continues Mister Tackleton. ‘The property is to be used exclusively for the furtherance of navigational teaching under the tutelage of the owner and principal, Felix Wild, or persons approved and appointed solely by him. Boys from orphanages, workhouses or other establishments of internment in Hampshire and neighbouring counties with maritime connections are to be given priority. Should Master Wild not accept my gift, for whatever reason, the property is to be sold for its current commercial value to the Office of The Lord High Admiral, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, to be used for whatever purpose they deem appropriate. Monies from the sale are to be freely given in their entirety to the Blue Coat Elementary School referenced earlier in this document, to feed, clothe and educate the less advantaged children of the afore mentioned parishes.’ Mister Tackleton removes his eye-glasses, wipes the lenses with a grubby handkerchief and scans his audience. ‘If the said Felix Wild is here present, would he please identify himself?’

Mrs Sparrow taps Felix’s knee.

Felix, confident in speechifying, stands. ‘I am Felix Wild, sir,’ he says in a clear and self-assured voice.

Almost every head in the room swerves to stare at Felix, expressions of open-mouthed astonishment on their faces at his blond hair, upright stance, broad shoulders and unusual eyes... surely one is blue and the other green? Felix checks the hang of his brand new Moseley & Pounsford jacket, refastens a couple of buttons and checks that his trews are unruffled about his knees. He smiles confidently as he scans the upturned faces of his wide-eyed audience.

Mrs Sparrow looks Felix up and down: he exudes a degree of self-confidence that comes with his recently acquired wealth. She opens her fan, wafts herself briefly and closes it.

‘Could anyone present, over the legal age of maturity, confirm that this young man is who he claims to be?’ asks Mister Tackleton.

With a rustle of her skirts, Mrs Sparrow stands.

‘I can confirm this young man to be Felix Wild,’ she says.

‘And you are, madam?’

‘Maggie Sparrow, widow of Captain Sparrow, recently the housekeeper and confidante of the recently departed Captain Achilles De’Kedge, Royal Navy, God bless his immortal soul.’

‘How long have you known Master Felix Wild, madam?’

‘I met him when he was Captain De’Kedge’s student a little more than two years ago, sir.’

Mister Tackleton makes a note. ‘Are you in a position to accept Captain De’Kedge’s bequest here and now, Master Wild?’

‘I would like a short time to consult with others, if you please, sir.’

‘Your initial and non-committal reaction if you please. Master Wild?’

Mrs Sparrow nudges Felix with her elbow. As the unexpected centre of attention Felix understands that he has to say something.

‘Do not refuse it, Felix,’ whispers Mrs Sparrow.

‘I do not refuse the bequest, sir.

‘You are only eighteen years of age I understand, Master Wild?’ asks Mister Tackleton.

‘I will be nineteen years of age this coming November on Saint Catherine of the Wheel’s Day.’

‘You cannot legally own a London property until you are twenty years of age, Master Wild. However, should you accept the gift of property, Tackleton & Taylor are able to retain the rights to the property on your behalf until you reach the age of twenty years according to our calendar.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Do you have any questions for me, Master Wild?’

‘How shall I communicate my decision to you, sir?’

Mrs Sparrow squeezes Felix’s hand.

‘I will speak to you privately after I have concluded the reading. Normally we would allow you seven days to accept or decline the bequest. In light of your age we can legally give you additional time to decide upon the matter and to take advice from others, should you wish to do so. In the meantime Tackleton & Taylor will continue to have legal access to the property.’ Mister Tackleton levers his papers into a large black bag, buckles it closed and scans the room.

Felix and Mrs Sparrow sit down.

‘I ask all of you who have been bequeathed items in the last Will and Testament of Captain De’Kedge to present themselves at the said London property an hour after sunrise on Wednesday the twenty eighth day of this month, where a representative of Tackleton & Taylor will be in attendance to assist you. May I remind you all that the period of Captain De’Kedge’s lying in state at the Admiralty Building is now officially at an end. The book of condolences is closed and the funeral service will take place nine days hence, on Saturday the first day of July at Greenwich...’

Two of the front bench women interrupt by sobbing loudly and clutching each other’s gloved hand.

Mister Tackleton gives them a moment to compose themselves before continuing. ‘His body will laid to final rest as close to the Greenwich Meridian as possible, in accordance with one of his many strict and clear instructions. Attendance at the funeral service is strictly by invitation that will be dispatched by Tackleton & Taylor within the next few days. If there are no disputes, disquiets or other queries in respect of the last Will and Testament, I deem its reading to be correctly concluded, done and dusted, ladies and gentlemen. I wish you all a good day.’

Felix and Mrs Sparrow seat themselves on the vacated end of the rear bench as people file out of the room.

‘Was that a surprise to you, Felix?’ asks Mrs Sparrow.

‘All the Captain promised me was his Pickle pole.’

‘I helped him to document his final wishes. For the past months we worked together on his final instructions. Because of his dementia condition it was a complicated and knotty process including a number of attorneys. I was sworn to secrecy about the details.’

‘Are you saying that he had plans some months ago to give me his house?’ says Felix, unsure of how to react.

‘He spoke about you at great length with Commander Otter, the Captain of the hulk Impenetrable, before deciding what to do.’

‘Commander Otter was a gentleman,’ says Felix. ‘But his health was failing when I saw him last.’

‘Achilles and Commander Otter shared a common dislike of the French and spent many hours playing sea battles on the back lawn with model ships.’ Mrs Sparrow leans back and smiles knowingly. ‘The English always beat the French... scuttling them all. In latter days it was the only time when the Captain’s mind was completely free of its bewilderment.’

Felix forces a smile, picturing Captain De’Kedge and Commander Otter playing with model ships together. He would like to have witnessed that.

All those invited to the reading have left. Mister Tackleton’s clerk is collecting the remaining papers and placing them unfolded in two belted leather bags that he places on the end of the bench. Mister Tackleton sits down facing Felix.

‘As the prime beneficiary, Master Wild, do you have any immediate questions for me?’ he asks.

‘None at the moment, sir.’

‘I need to lock the room and return the...’

‘We shall leave shortly, sir,’ interrupts Mrs Sparrow. ‘It has been a morning of surprises – a multitude of them.’

‘I understand completely, madam. May I explain a little more before you leave? As you will no doubt be aware there is some degradation to the property that will need putting right before it can be safely used as a place of instruction.’

‘I understand that, sir,’ says Mrs Sparrow. ‘Between Felix and I, we have sufficient capital to undertake the necessary improvements or repairs.’

‘Those costs could run into many hundreds of pounds, possibly as much as a thousand or more,’ says Mister Tackleton turning his attention directly to Felix. ‘Do not let this worry you, or affect your ultimate decision, Master Wild. If you need help in raising the required monies, Tackleton & Taylor are here to help you. Our charges are considered to be the most even-handed in the City. ’

‘I believe that together we have sufficient money, sir.’

‘Very well, Master Wild. But if we can be of any assistance whatsoever, please do not hesitate to talk to us.’ He hands a calling card to Felix and one to Mrs Sparrow. ‘I trust that seven days is sufficient time for you to decide on the matter of the property bequest, Master Wild?’

‘I shall decide well before that, sir.’

‘In writing of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘I bid you good day, sir, madam.’ Mister Tackleton strides away followed by his clerk, hunch-shouldered from the weight of the bags.

Mrs Sparrow waits until they are out of earshot. ‘Stuffed shirt,’ she says. ‘Shall we have coffee and something to snack on at my house? I have things yet to tell you.’

In the room adjoining her kitchen, Mrs Sparrow lights a large fire. A pair of well-upholstered and comfortable chairs are arranged facing each other. On a table between them is a pile of elderly-looking leatherbound books. Mrs Sparrow places a fluttery hand on the top and gently strokes the well-worn leather.

‘These are Achilles’ journals,’ she says. ‘He spent many hours looking through them in his final days.’

Felix counts the number of books: there are twenty-three. The bottom one is thinner than the others and the wrong way round.

I must confide in you,’ says Mrs Sparrow, pushing her chair closer to Felix. ‘Achilles gave me a substantial amount of money...’

‘I also have a good amount of money, Maggie.’

‘Achilles gave me more than enough money to completely rebuild the house if necessary. He hoped that you would accept his bequest and turn it into a place of learning. He didn’t want the place going to the Admiralty – over his dead body he said, more than once.’

Felix opens his mouth to interrupt but Mrs Sparrow continues.

‘The money he has given to me has to be used, Felix. I made him a firm promise.’

Felix is silent while Mrs Sparrow pours coffee.

‘I trust that I can rely on your support at the funeral, Felix. Can we travel together?’

‘Yes please.’

‘I am desirous of his foot.’

‘Desirous, Maggie?’

‘I would like to have his wooden foot.’

Felix leans back, looking confused.

‘The Captain stipulated a number of things in his Will,’ she says. ‘One was that his pole and his trusted and well-loved lignum vitae foot, complete with all its straps and buckles, are to be buried with him.’ She removes one of her gloves and gently strokes the top book. ‘I would like your support to prevent the foot being buried, Felix. I am only interested in the foot and not the straps or buckles. It accompanied us on many a stroll – it was a part of him that we both shared a great fondness for.’

‘I think I understand, Maggie.’

‘It will be a part of him that I can keep close. The Captain and I had a very special relationship.’

‘How long did you know the Captain?’

‘For many, many years. The Captain caused quite a stir from the moment he moved into his house next door, I can tell you. The swishiest Naval Captain, you ever saw, Felix. Even with the disadvantage of a wooden foot he was a strikingly handsome gentleman with a strut about him that appealed to all the thoroughbred women in the area. Many an interested lady came a-knocking on his door when he first moved in, including Mrs Katherine Kettle, although she will not admit to it.’

‘I’m surprised.’

‘Surprised at Katherine Kettle’s interest or the fact that the Captain had such a beguiling effect on the neighbourhood’s womenfolk?’

‘Both.’

‘He sired an unknown number of children around the world. Tackleton & Taylor are having the Dickens of a time tracking them down, despite the Captain having all the names and locations in his journals.’

‘An unknown number?’

‘He was a sailor, Felix, and a damnably eye-catching one at that.’

‘Mud pies!’

***

Knowing that Felix was invited to the reading of Captain De’Kedge’s Will, Mrs Kettle is waiting expectantly for his return. She assumes that Felix was in line for something: navigating charts, perhaps – a pickled pole was mentioned and a telescope.

Churchill, assisted by the new house girl, a thirteen-year-old called Rose Dilworth, has spent most of the morning making sure that the Orangery is warm and welcoming. On the coffee table is a jug of fruit juice and some of Felix’s favourite sugared pastries.

There is the unmistakable sound of the Kettles’ carriage wheels on gravel.

‘That will be our carriage returning with Master Felix, Churchill,’ says Mrs Kettle, suddenly animated. Mrs Kettle is a strikingly beautiful woman: her feminine deportment and style of dress belie the fact that her fortieth year is approaching faster than she would like. She checks in the wall mirror that not a strand of her stylishly curled hair is out of place. Well aware of Felix’s enthralment of her, she moistens her lips.

Churchill nods and shuffles away. By the time he reaches the front door, Felix is inside and removing his jacket.

‘Whereabouts is Mrs Kettle, Mister Churchill?’

‘Pardon me, sir.’ Mister Churchill cups his ear.

‘Where exactly is Mrs Kettle?’

‘In the orangery, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ Felix hands over his coat.

Felix almost bumps into the new girl as he strides towards the orangery. She is a most unappealing girl; built like a stick, sallow of face and devoutly unsmiling. They don’t acknowledge each other.

Mrs Kettle is on her feet to welcome Felix.

‘Come, Felix, let me hold you closely.’ She lowers her voice and smirks. ‘I’m lavishly corseted and tightly braced, I fear.’

‘I am without jacket.’

‘Unimportant, my boy.’

Felix settles himself within Mrs Kettle’s sweet-smelling frontage. She gently strokes his hair. ‘Was your visit worthwhile?’

‘Yes, Katherine,’ he mumbles into her mint-green neckpiece. ‘I have a surprise.’

‘A surprise? Tell me.’ She releases Felix and points at the chair opposite. ‘Sit down and tell me all about whatever it is. I like surprises: I am all of a dither!’

‘I have been bequeathed Captain De’Kedge’s house.’

‘I beg your blasted pardon!’

‘I have been bequeathed Captain De’Kedge’s house.’

‘I thought that was what you said. I know that the Captain and yourself worked together, but why did he leave it to you?’

‘He requires me to open it as a school. To take over from the teachings that were done onboard the hulk HMS Impenetrable before she was towed away for firewood.’

‘I am flabbergasted, Felix.’

‘That the hulk was towed away for firewood?’

‘No.’ She taps his knee playfully and smiles. ‘That he has given you such an expensive property.’ She adjusts herself. ‘Morning corseting! What a burden we modern-day women are saddled with!’

Felix grabs the nearest and largest pastry and takes a bite. As hoped, it is his favourite – gooseberry.

‘Is the gift all done and dusted, Felix?’

Felix, his mouth full of gooseberry and crumbly pastry, can only nod.

‘Nothing can change matters, can it?’

Felix shakes his head. A deluge of pastry pieces falls onto the lap of his trews. Mrs Kettle smiles as she watches Felix brush them aside with the back of his hand.

‘I have seven days to decide finally if I will accept the gift,’ he says.

‘A property owner! Seven days! You should agree to it immediately, Felix. This very day! The girl will sponge your trews clean.’

‘I cannot legally own the house until my twentieth birthday.’

‘Who has ruled that?’

‘London. Mister Tackleton says that his company will look after the property until I am old enough to satisfy the ruling.’

***

Felix sits in the hallway’s most comfortable chair and opens the morning letter addressed to him. He reads the formally worded contents a number of times. It invites him to attend the Funeral Service for Captain Achilles De’Kedge (RN retired) at The Chapel of St Peter and St Paul within the Royal Naval College at Greenwich this coming Saturday. Dress is uniform with medals for serving and retired Officers; no swords or spurs allowed. Smart attire with un-spurred boots for non-military guests.

‘Is that your funeral invitation?’ asks Mister Kettle, buttoning his coat as he marches through the hallway. ‘Does it include a pew for a Member of Parliament and his wife?’ He pulls back his shoulders and stands erect to his full height of six feet. He allows his astrakhan coat to open enough to display his well-tailored but grubby Parliamentary attire. Felix notices that Mister Kettle is wearing his navy blue cravat with his favourite nautical pin this morning. Perhaps he has seafaring things to deal with today.

‘It is for me alone, sir.’

‘I have plenty of Parliamentary stuff to deal with, anyway.’ The sound of the carriage outside stiffens Mister Kettle. ‘I must away, Felix. Early morning committee business awaits. Show the invitation to Katherine: she will be overjoyed for you and somewhat aggrieved if she does not herself receive one.’ He wafts his hat in his habitual farewell gesture.

***

‘This is very formal, Felix,’ says Mrs Kettle, sitting at the breakfast table directly opposite Felix. ‘The Chapel of St Peter and St Paul within the Royal Naval College at Greenwich – sounds ever so refined.’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘Call me by my name when we are alone together and unlikely to be overheard, Felix.’

Felix nods.

‘I wonder why the Captain asks that swords or spurs are not to be worn at his funeral service?’

‘He was not fond of old-fashioned items of uniform, particularly those that clanged and clattered.’

They both laugh.

Later that morning a note is delivered to Felix. It is from Mrs Sparrow asking if Felix has received his invitation and, if so, whether they might travel to the funeral at Greenwich together in the Captain’s carriage.

The messenger waits for Felix’s reply.

Felix writes that he accepts the offer, despite the fact that the Captain’s carriage is the most uncomfortable in the district.

Mrs Kettle gives the messenger boy two pennies. ‘Make sure that Mister Felix’s reply is delivered urgently,’ she says. ‘It concerns a meeting at the Royal Naval College at Greenwich.’

Turning to face Felix, she places parental hands on his hunched shoulders. ‘Be wary of the Sparrow woman, Felix. She has a... a reputation!’

Felix inhales Katherine’s freshly perfumed May Day waters.

2: Lord Nelson’s Dividers

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In a small room off the recently finished galley, Felix and Mrs Sparrow are enjoying fried bacon pieces and perfectly made coffee. A small number of those who have been bequeathed items from the Captain’s house are already milling around the mast in the front garden. Above them an ensign flutters at half-mast. Maggie Sparrow, forgetful of Naval protocol, had not lowered it at sunset last night. A marine oil lamp alongside the base of the mast casts a circular yellow glow on the grass.

‘The others should start appearing an hour after sunrise... another of the Captain’s stipulations,’ she explains. Felix is a little apprehensive about meeting the ‘others’. ‘Were you ever invited into the Captain’s chartroom, Felix?’

‘No, Maggie.’

‘It contains all his accumulated navigational baubles and his journals. The Captain stipulated that it should remain locked to all except you and I – even Mister Tackleton is denied access. It is double-locked today, and I have the only keys. I replaced his journals there. If anybody should ask to see inside the chartroom today, you must politely refuse. Before we pack his journals off to the Admiralty, you should read them.’ She cups Felix’s shoulder and winks conspiratorially. ‘You will find many adult references within them, which you may need my help in understanding.’

In the south-facing garden, canvas chairs have been placed in perfectly aligned ranks under the awning in accordance with another of the Captain’s wishes. Mrs Sparrow reserves a pair of well-upholstered Westminster armchairs for her and Felix and positions them alongside each other in an area that will protect them in the event of rain.

Mister Tackleton and his clerk busy themselves greeting the invitees and ticking-off their names as they arrive. The earliest arrivals grab a chair; latecomers have to stand or slouch.

Satisfied that everybody has arrived, Mister Tackleton gets to his feet and waves a single sheet of paper in greeting.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance. May I officially thank Master Wild, who has formally accepted the gift of property.’ He pauses, expecting a round of appreciative applause.

Mumbles, then silence.

Mrs Sparrow taps Felix’s knee and smiles suggestively. Felix recalls Katherine’s words of warning.

Mister Tackleton continues: ‘I must first confirm that we have received no officially supported challenges in respect of the final Will and Testament of Captain De’Kedge. Let me introduce some persons of note to you all. Sitting alongside Master Wild in the centre of the second row is Mrs Margaret Sparrow, Admiral De’Kedge’s housekeeper, neighbour and friend. Two of the Captain’s daughters, who he has fiscally supported throughout their lives, are seated on the right of the front row – they are Mrs Audrey Wardle and Mrs Liddie Penman.’

There is much straining of necks as the two black-frocked ladies unexpectedly become the centre of attention. Mrs Sparrow has the ladies in her line of sight; she shakes her head dismissively.

Mister Tackleton coughs to regain everybody’s attention. ‘Each of you has been bequeathed certain items that you are here today to collect. I am sure that any additional items that may be required can be negotiated with myself and Master Wild. I must make the point that once you have departed the property, there is no opportunity to return unless invited by letter. In compliance with the Captain’s wishes, all the bequeathing business will be concluded today. We have two hours. Any questions?’

‘Will we be given access to the entire house?’ asks Mrs Liddie Penman, raising a black-clad arm.

‘Almost, madam. The exception is the Captain’s chartroom, which in accordance with his expressed wish, is to remain locked.’

‘Why, pray?’

‘As the Captain is no longer with us, madam. I cannot give you a reason. I am only following his instructions.’

‘That will probably be where all his interesting stuff is kept.’

‘I cannot comment on that, madam.’

‘I was unaware that I had a half sibling, Mister Tackleton. Are you sure that we are correctly identified?’ asks Mrs Penman, glaring sideways at Mrs Wardle.

‘Madam, this was an extremely difficult Will to administer. Tackleton & Taylor have made considerable efforts to ensure that the details of the Captain’s declared bloodline are one hundred percent accurate. The Captain was a man of inexhaustible fatherliness.’ He pauses while there is an audible intake of breath from everyone in the room. ‘Suffice to say, madam, you have more than one half sibling. Others are dotted around the known world. As they have either declared no interest in today’s process, or live too far distant, they are not present here today.’

‘Around the known world?’ splurts Mrs Wardle. ‘How many, may I ask?’

Mister Tackleton looks questioningly at his clerk. Following a brief and whispered discussion they exchange an agreeable nod.

‘You have five additional and confirmed half siblings, madam. In addition to Mrs Penman, sitting alongside you, you have three half-brothers and two additional half-sisters all of whom were adequately supported by the Captain and have been awarded monies as stipulated in his final document.’

‘Seven of us?’

‘Correct, madam.’

‘Did the man have nothing better to do than to travel the world producing children?’

‘ I imagine he had other less enjoyable duties to perform.’

‘Where are these other half siblings?’

‘The world over, madam. As far away as New Zealand to the east and the Southern Americas in the west. He has two sons presently in Argentina. He has a daughter in New Zealand, and one in Western Australia...’

‘You said there was five, sir,’ interrupts Mrs Penman.

‘If you will let me conclude, madam. The fifth known half-sibling is Dexter De’Kedge, currently the Crown Prince of a central African country, an inherently wealthy individual who the Captain was rarely in communication with...’

‘I have an African prince half-brother?’

‘A crowned prince.’

‘How did he become a prince?’

‘The Captain enjoyed the hospitality of the prince’s mother, a princess of Royal blood.’

‘Did the Captain’s morality have no bounds?’

‘I am not at liberty to comment on that, madam.’

‘Any other surprises?’

‘None that I am presently aware of, madam. But the day is young!’

‘That’s Achilles,’ whispers Mrs Sparrow, gentling digging Felix in the ribs. ‘His shenanigans encompassed the world. You will understand everything when you read his journals.’

‘Encompassed? A suitable word, given that he was a navigator,’ whispers Felix.

‘I believe that some of the Captain’s qualities are rubbing off on you.’

They sit and watch the visitors scurrying about their business. Mrs Wardle is dressed head to toe in flowing black; she has deep-set eyes topped by bushy grey eyebrows. Lengthy grey hairs sprout from her warty chin.

‘Mrs Wardle is a strange looking lady.’

‘The Captain did confide to me that Mrs Wardle’s mother was the briefest of encounters in the dark of night. She was no looker herself, apparently. I shall have a wander, Felix. My legs are stiffening,’ says Mrs Sparrow as she slowly gets to her feet before shuffling away towards the house.

As though waiting for an opportunity, Mrs Wardle approaches Felix, sits down on a nearby chair and fixes him with unfriendly eyes.

‘Master Wild, at last I am able to talk to you face-to-face.’ She holds out a hand encased in black lace. Her exposed fingernails are browned and cracked.

Felix shakes the hand gently, not sure how much physical contact it is able to sustain.

‘How do you do, Mrs Wardle? I didn’t know that the Captain had so many offspring.’

‘The Navy looked after me and schooled me. They even found me a husband, a long-dead bounder who never made it beyond the rank of Lieutenant despite being of thoroughbred stock. I managed to drain him of all his juices, his money and his property over the