Some details (mostly hair and eye color if I've mentioned them before and have to fix it, or specially all the dates) to change.

Henry Edward Morrison: Wellard's maternal grandfather. Sandy hair, grey eyes, tall and solidly built. No known family. Volunteered in the navy, and made a warrent officer in the navy, and 'retired' after he had saved a duke's life during a storm. With funds and monies given to him as a gift because of this, Morrison worked on starting his own shipping company, Emerald Shipping and Trading. He married Josephine Alice Bright in 1765, against the wishes of her family. They had one child, Elizabeth Victoria in 1768. In 1784, stepped down as single owner of Emerald Shipping and Trading, naming Matthew Wellard as co-owner and parner. In 1792, he and his wife were lost at sea, while on board one his ship The Challenge.

Lady Josephine Alice (Bright) Morrison: Wellard's maternal grandmother. Dark blonde hair, vivid green eyes. (This may be where the name 'Emerald' came from.) Headstrong, she married Morrison against the will of her family, and thus did not speak to any of them for the rest of her life. She had one daughter, after a long and difficult pregnancy (a trait which she unfortunately passed on to said daughter), and was unable to have any other children after Elizabeth. Josephine and her husband were lost at sea in 1792, and are presumed dead.

Lord Robert Bright and other Family: Robert was the youngest of three children. The oldest son died in his late 40s, unmarried and without children. Josephine married a common-born man against the will of their parents. Robert returned to the family manor near Ashford in Kent, with his wife and children. Prior to this, he had attained the rank of captain in the British Navy. He had been fond of his older sister, and even though he never contacted her after her marriage to Morrison, he took on the care of her only grandchild when contacted by Elizabeth Wellard from her own deathbed in 1794. By then, Robert was widowed, and his own children had families of their own. He brought Henry Wellard to the house in Ashford, and saw to the boy's care and upbringing until he was of an age to go into the navy as a midshipman. Robert was friends with the captain of the Worthington, and saw Wellard placed there in 1799.

Family Info!

(This part is still vague.)
Henry Edward Morrison started the Emerald Shipping and Trading Company from scratch, with the funding of some questionable investors. He was not a member of the peerage, but the rising middle class. Morrison later helped with the starting and funding of Lloyds of London. Somehow, later he met Josephine Bright, who was highborn. Against the wishes of her family, she married him.

(But this part isn't.)
Morrison married Josephine Alice Bright. They had one daughter, Elizabeth Victoria Morrison, who married Matthew Jonah Wellard- who started as a clerk in the Emerald Shipping and Trading Company and had risen up to be second in command of the Co by the time he proposed to Morrison's daughter. Morrison's only grandchild was born Nov 13 1786- Henry Matthew Wellard.

Wellard's parents died of cholera in Feb 1794, when he was 8- he then lived with his great uncle Robert Bright in Kent. Bright, a retired captain of the Navy, spoke to a friend who was a current captain to accept Wellard on board the Worthington as a midshipman in 1799 when Wellard was 13.

In 1801 he was transferred aboard the Renown under Captain James Sawyer, and then died in the West Indies in Jan 1802 at the age of 16.

Other dates for reference. Mother was 18 when she had H.Wellard, prolly married at 17. Elizabeth therefor born 1768. Matthew Wellard born 1759, married at age 26, was 27 when H.Wellard was born.

"Bloomsbury was colonized by respectable merchants and the professional classes, handsome houses but tainted by trade in the eyes of the elite." Right from An Elegant Madness. *snerk* Which fits Wellard's grandfather, and then his parents.

I need to figure out a few things about his grandfather and grandmother. How to have a high-born young lady even meet a tradesman, one self-made, even if he was probably more well-off than a good portion of the nobility? Then, how to kill them off. Hmmmm. *is open to ideas- even something like EIC 'arranging' an accident for Morrison and wife.*

February 1794

When Henry was eight, and living in London, his parents took ill and died. First his father, and then a couple weeks later, his mother. Sickness or grief, or both, in the end it did not matter as Henry was left quite alone.

The housekeeper and he returned to a quiet house, still swathed in mourning from when his father died. The boy had gone to his room, while she went to speak to the solicitor who had accompanied them. It was only later, when Ms Dobbs went to check on Henry, did she find that he had taken the somber suit that he had worn only twice, along with the black armband he would have worn for the next year-

And ripped them both to shreds, tossing them into the fireplace. Quietly, he informed her that he would not wear them again.

---

[After This.]

Wellard headed to his room, one hand tightly clenched with the bit of knotted hemp cord-

pale white and blood red

wound around his fingers. His face was neutral, and too many thoughts whirling around in his head for any one to show. The Scarlet Pimpernel was set down on the small table in his room, and Elda's feather laid on top of it. Then, to the foot of his bed, to the sea chest. It held all the few belongings he had on board the Renown- all Wellard had in his life at sea, in the navy.

And plus one.

A pistol, carefully cleaned, oiled, wrapped and tucked near the bottom. A flint-lock pistol, with no shell or powder. Midshipmen did not carry guns in the normal course of their duties.

("I can't let you reach Kingston.")

But he had it, and Wellard tucked it into his waistband, and then exited his room, heading outside.

---

He was a sailor, it was not a skill he had ever learned. But the flint and steel on the pistol still worked, still sparked, and after much trial and error, it managed to light a small handful of dried pine needles, then twigs. Soon there was a small cup of fire burning in a nest of stones on the lakeside. Nursing burned and bruised fingers, Wellard watched it quietly for a few moments, to be sure the flames would not blow out just yet-

Before tossing the knotted and braided bracelet into the flames.

White and red-

Gold and burning

He stays, until the flames have died out, and nothing but a small handful of ashes remain. The stones are then nudged aside, to let the wind scatter those across the lake, before Wellard turns, to head back. Still silent.

British Navy Articles of War

And, dude. The number of times "Shall suffer death" is mentioned all through these...

( And this goes for my officers as well )

He is pleased- Wellard did figure out something to do for Christmas gifts, even if they are not that much. Knot-work bracelets, with both traditional fancy versions of sailing knots along with chinese knotwork. (Bar had given him a book with the supplies). There had been a moment's idea of giving them out, but-

Still shy and unsure, Wellard will leave them with the Bar insted.

( Miss Guevera )
( Raven )
( Miss Mary )
( Mrs Rowlands )
( Mr Maxwell )
( Jason )
( Kennedy )
( Commodore Lyon )

There are also ones made for the fox Ako, and for the waitrat Ivan- but those, Wellard will give to the recipiants when he sees them.

Inside the captain's chambers it was oddly quiet, compared to the chaos and din of the fighting outside. Sawyer had his hands over his ears, and was reading aloud from a logbook to muffle the noises that made their way inside. He didn't notice Wellard slip into the chambers and lock the door behind him. Wellard raised the pistol in one hand, ignoring how his hand shook.

"I can't let you remember."

Sawyer looked up, expressionless.

"I can't let you get to Kingston. And I will not see them hanged, either of them." He moved closer to the desk, and the former captain stood up, facing him.

"Then you best use both hands if you want to pull the trigger." Sawyer said simply, reaching out and taking the pistol from Wellard's hands. The young midshipman dropped his eyes in shame.

"Its a clumsy weapon," Sawyer said, looking it over, "for anyone, and no use for a boy like you."

Wellard's eyes narrowed for a moment, and slowly he looked up, meeting the former captain's gaze. "Don't call me boy."

"Oh? What would you have me call you? Coward?"

"I'm not boy, sir. And I'm no coward." Wellard took a deep breath, and his shoulders straightened. "And I'm no scarecrow that has to be tied up so he don't bite his own shadow, sir." With courage came the disdain in his voice for the formal address. Sawyer raised a hand and slapped Wellard across the face. Undaunted, Wellard turned back to him.

"See? I'm no boy. And you're no man at all to strike me so."

Quite for a long moment, Sawyer calmly looked at him.

"No."

The moment was broken by the window shattering behind them. One of the spaniards had broken the glass and was reaching in to unlock the door. Sawyer and Wellard both moved behind the desk, watching.

"Wellard?" Sawyer's own shoulders straightened. "I know who pushed me. Here." He handed the pistol over to the young midshipman.

"At least one of us can face the enemy with a clear head. Mister Wellard?"

The door burst open, and a ragged spaniard raising an ax rushed in, yelling.

"Fire!" The pistol held in both hands, Wellard fired, and the spaniard rushing in dropped to the floor.

"Brave lad." Sawyer nodded, putting his arm over Wellard's shoulders.

Behind the one enemy were two more. These two with rifles. They shot, and Wellard and Sawyer both dropped to the floor.

Ages later, years slowly- or was it minutes, bare seconds, just a moment?

Hobbs leaned over Wellard, his face actually touched with concern. He glanced to the dead Sawyer, then looked back.

"He recovered at last, did he?"

Blood stained his lips, but Wellard managed to answer. "He said I was brave."

"You are."

"He knew. He knew who pushed him."

Hobb's eyes lit up, and he leaned closer to the dying Wellard. "Get it off your chest- tell me."

Fading and coughing, Wellard managed to whisper a last reply to Hobbs. Maybe it was a name. Maybe it was not. Even though it was after dawn, the room darkened to his eyes. Wellard heard footsteps approaching,

but it all started

fading

away.