Jocelyn watched as the admirals filed into the room, their boots clunking heavily against the floor. All was solemnity and pomp. He stood at his place, next to the witness seat in the centre of the room. It was a small chair, barely tall enough to contain his long frame. He assumed it was meant to be uncomfortable to remind those who sat in it that they lived only at the pleasure of the Crown.
He didn’t need the reminder, he reflected. They owned him, and he was glad of it. A daily existence not circumscribed by the navy was painful. I should not be allowed to run my own life, he thought. I am competent only when under someone else’s command.
“Captain Avebury, we regret the need to bring you in for yet more questioning. This is not a formal court martial, of course. We wish merely to und
