Onedin Line Timeless Themes

by Susan Ternyey, Aug 2025

Making a Life: James & Maragarita Onedin

Of the 9 episodes of the last season of the 8 season series, Margarita only enters the story in episode 3. But to understand the relationship between James and Margarita, it’s important to summarize the first 2 episodes of the season. The other 7 episodes only cover probably 3 or 4 years.

Again, through the story of James and Margarita, we see ever more the intertwined lives of the Onedin family, friends, and foes. And again we see how the other themes of the series interplay: Marriage, love, family, parents and children, self-determination, friendship, loss & grief, business success & failure, health & welfare, religion/superstition/personal faith, and character.

S8 E1 & 2—Backstory  
     The Russians had forced Prince Alexander of Bulgaria to abdicate, intending to appoint a puppet ruler to take his place.  Queen Victoria had hosted the prince, but then the prince was determined to go back and see what his people wanted.  James was hired to secretly return him.  Why the Onedin Line?  “It was considered best to approach one of the smaller shipping lines:  not too well known . . . but reliable.” 
     When assassins try to kill the prince, James pulls a ruse to get him safely back to his country.
     James, never wanting to miss a chance for trade, decides they should pick up some tobacco in Turkey to take home.  Capt. Baines doesn’t like the idea, he’s sure the Russians will be after them, “. . . just now I don’t reckon these waters are safe for even one more day . . . how do you know they’re not lookin’ fer us?”  Tom, their apprentice over several episodes, concurs, “You got to admit it sir, somebody didn’t take kindly to what we was up to back there.”
    “That was Bulgaria.  This here is Turkey.  And where we’re headed is the province of Dobruja.  Now that belongs to the Romanians,” James argues.  “Well, we’ll be sailing back through Bulgarian waters, won’t we?  Both ways.  Now look, the Russians don’t like to be cheated.  They must know by now that the Prince is alive . . . And they’ll be looking for someone’s blood for that, anyway,” Baines argues back.
     “Baines, just a few days north of here, there’s a cargo of prime tobacco just sitting, waiting for a ship.  Now that’s the cargo that’s worth having!”  “We can pick up one anytime on the way home,” Capt. Baines replies.  “Bird in the hand, eh?  Bird in the hand, Baines,” James concludes.
     But the promised tobacco turns out to be a trap.  James and Baines are kidnapped, held for ransom:  £50,000.  Tom manages to rescue James and Baines, but the folks back home don’t know that, and Elizabeth and Samuel go to desperate lengths to raise the ransom.  Their ship meets James’ ship, and Elizabeth climbs aboard joyfully, “James, how good, how good to see you!” the siblings embrace.
     “Now, what the devil are you doing all the way out here?” the happy man asks his sister.  When he learns of the ransom paid, he’s happy no longer.  “£50,000!  Where did you get it?”  Samuel answers, “We persuaded Mr. Dawkins [James’ chief clerk] to sell four of your ships.”  Elizabeth adds, “Samuel lent £10,000.”  “Aunt Elizabeth sold a large parcel of shares,” Samuel adds more.  James is looking nonplused.  
     “I’m ruined,” he finally says.  “You’re alive!” Elizabeth counters.  “Ya mean we’ve gone through all that fer nothin’?” Capt. Baines exclaims.  “All what, Capt. Baines?” Samuel asks.
     James slowly walks over, puts his hand on Baines’ shoulder, and faces his nephew and sister, “We have just escaped.  You have paid £50,000, while we were getting out for nothing!” James starts slowly and ends by yelling.  
     “James, we weren’t to know that!  You’re surely not going to blame us for trying to save your life!” Elizabeth defends their actions.  But James doesn’t accept that.  “Numbskulls!  £50,000!  Even I wouldn’t pay that for me!”

S8 E3–James meets Margarita (a young widow) in the Caribbean, and she gently thaws his heart
     A creaking winch raises the heavy remnant of a cannon from a boat onto the ship.  Meanwhile, James looks at his watch and strides across the deck.  He comments to Tom the apprentice, “Capt. Baines is takin’ ‘is time, isn’t he?”  “Had a face like a fiddle since he ‘eard you takin’ on a passenger, sir,” Tom replies.  “She’ll ‘ave ‘er orders to stay out of our way,” James assures him.
      But then a beautiful woman is helped aboard by a sailor, and James is obviously immediately taken with her.  She smiles, he doesn’t, Tom whistles.  “Hold your noise, lad,” James tells him quietly but sternly.  James walks over to her.
     “Capt. Onedin?” the woman asks.  “Ma’am,” James answers.  “I am Margarita Juárez.  I think my agent arranged for me to travel with you.”  “I trust he told you that this is a cargo, not a passenger ship,” James wants to be sure she knows.  “Yes.  Yes he did,” she affirms.  Tom comes up and offers with a smile, “Shall I show the lady to ‘er quarters, sir?”
     “No, you get back there and give Capt. Baines a hand,” James tells him.  We hear Capt. Baines yell out, “Damn yer eyes!  Let ‘er go!”  James stops Tom to tell him on the side, “And tell ‘im to mind ‘is language, will ya?”
     “I was told you’d be sailing immediately, Capt. Onedin,” Margarita brings up.  “Ah yes.  Soon as Capt. Baines has secured his personal cargo!” James says loudly towards Baines.  “Good, I have no time to waste,” Margarita says calmly and smoothly, a gentle contrast to Capt. Baines and James.  
     “Oh, neither have I.  Your cabin is next to the saloon.  Would you like to follow me?” James’ tone is now also calm and smooth.  “I’ll stay on deck for the moment, thank you,” she replies.  “As you wish, miss.”  He doesn’t know as yet that she is a widow.  
     James walks over to where Baines’ personal cargo is being loaded.  “Take care, Capt. Baines.  I don’t want my deck marked by that thing.”  “Here.  Morgan’s cannon [a famous raider in the Caribbean of the past].  You’ll never see another like ‘er, Tom,” Baines instructs.  “Morgan’s Canon?  If I had a penny for every one of Morgan’s Cannons, I’d be retired!” James opposes the notion.  “Well this one’s guaranteed certified,” Baines claims.  “Ah, just get it stowed, will ya?  I have an impatient passenger,” James prods.  “So I see,” Baines looks that way.
     “With half the hold empty, we can’t afford to be choosy.  Let’s just get underway, shall we?” James says and walks away.  “No sense of history.  There’s no romance in ‘im,” Baines responds.  “Oh, I don’t know, master,” Tom says as he looks over at Margarita.  “Bad business, women aboard,” Baines decries, despite  how he’d felt about Anne, Caroline, and Letty.
     “Just cargo.  That’s what Capt. Onedin says,” Tom points out.  “You wipe that grin off your face, lad, and show ‘er below.  And tell Bill Turner I want ‘im.  An old navy gunner like ‘im will know the value o’ this cannon, and he’ll stow ‘er right,” Baines tells Tom, then orders the crew, “All hands, stand by to make sail!”

     Margarita comes down into the saloon where James is at his bookwork.  “I hope I am not interrupting, Captain,” she says.  “Uh, no ma’am,” he says distractedly, but then remembering his manners, “Oh,” he stands.  “Oh please, don’t stop your work,” she says and sits opposite him.  James feels obliged to say something, “I . . . trust the cabin is to your liking.”
     “You’re not used to carrying passengers, Capt. Onedin,” she supposes.  “We carry any cargo, ma’am.  I mean, I didn’t . . .” he stammers as she laughs, “So I am as much cargo as Capt. Baines’ cannon, though probably not quite as valuable.”
     “Mmm, cannon’s a fake . . . fool and ‘is money,” James comments.  “Excuse me?” she asks for clarification.  “Oh, it’s an English saying.  ‘Fool and ‘is money are easily parted’,” he explains.  “The agent, uh, said you were in a devil of a hurry.  Otherwise, he didn’t tell me very much about you,” James now hopes for more information.
     “He assured me that you were reliable and that you would make the best possible speed.  Do this, and I will make sure my father pays you well,” Margarita tells him.  “Oh, no need.  I made sure the agent paid me before I took you on board,” James goes back to his work.  “You think my father is not honest, he would cheat you?” she is offended.
     “Well I don’t know your father.  There was no offense intended,” James says roughly gentle.  “He is President Juárez of Guyada,” she considers that enough assurance of his honesty.  “Oh, aye,” James says, still working at his books.  “We are very close,” she wants him to know.  “Well then he’s very lucky.  My experience, daughters take a poor view of their fathers, ma’am,” James reveals just a hint.
     “’Ma’am’?” Margarita smiles,  “Margarita is easier, I think, Captain.  And if we have to travel together . . .”  James stands up to say, “Aye.  Well, if you’ll forgive me . . .” He puts on his jacket to go up on deck.  Margarita is amused, “You live up to the English reputation . . . stiff-backed, formal . . . So, if you wish, I will continue to call you Captain Onedin.”  James turns to her to say, “James.  James Onedin will do.”  She reaches out to shake his hand, and he returns the gesture.
     Tom comes down to say, “Capt. Onedin . . .” but as he sees the handshake, he puts in, “Oh, sorry, Guv, I didn’t realize.”  “Well, what is it, Tom?”  “Cannon’s secured, sir.”  “In the for’ard hold?”  “No, Turner’s just finished chucking ‘er off on deck,” Tom corrects the assumption.  “What?” James turns on the run to get up to the deck.
     “Is your master always so abrupt?” Margarita asks Tom.  “Don’ know what you mean, missus.  ‘scuse me.” Tom follows up on deck.  
     “Keep ‘er closer to the wind, helmsman,” Capt. Baines orders on deck.  James walks up to him, “Baines, where is it?  What is that pig iron doing on my deck?” he asks as Baines points where to look.  “That’s a proper place for Morgan’s Cannon, that is.  Besides, she’s a fine sight there,” Baines says of the cannon lashed to the rail of the ship, “She’s safe enough, she’s well chocked.”  James considers, as his head wags like a metronome, and at last he says, “Better than a piano, I suppose” (referring to S6 E5, when Baines was tricked into buying an upright piano for trade in Norway).

     Down in the saloon, Margarita is writing in a journal as Tom studies.  She asks how far they sailed the previous day, and he replies 152 miles.  “Hey, d’you write that for fun, missus?” he asks her.  “Of course,” she is amused, “Don’t you find what you’re doing fun?”  “Aye, no.  I’m doin’ this ‘cause Capt. Baines says I must.  Got navigation, trigonometry, law . . . there’s all sorts of stuff.”
     “You must be very clever,” she flatters him.  He looks into his vision of his future, “Yeah.  I’ll be a mate by the time I’m 18 and I’ll ‘ave me master’s ticket before I’m 21.  Maybe.”  “You’d better get on then.  I would hate to slow your progress.”  “Naw, I’m done fer the time bein’, missus, I’m on the next watch.”  He starts to put his books away.
     Margarita comes over to ask, “Tell me something.  Are you related to Capt. Baines or Capt. Onedin?”  “Naw.”  “I had noticed they do not treat you like the other sailors.  Then why do they take such an interest in you?”  He seems a little uncomfortable, but answers, “Well, I’m apprenticed.  They got their reasons, I s’pose.”
     “I’m sorry.  I did not mean to pry,” she says, but she seems always willing to pry.  “That’s all right.  You can ask me anything.  Cap’n Baines may not like a woman aboard, but I’m not bothered.”  “Thank you,” then she pries a little more, “Capt. Onedin said something about a daughter.  Does he have other children?”
     “That daughter’s enough, I’d say,” Tom comments.  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she hopes to find out more.  “Caused ‘im a lot of grief, she ‘as.  Not like ‘is missus.  Still . . .” Tom picks up his books and stands up to go.  Margarita reaches out for him to pause, asks him to tell her about James’ wife.  He tells her that she died.  Margarita discerns that Tom liked her, he confirms it, and tells her about Letty’s kindness, especially for children.  Margarita is impressed by the woman he tells her about.  Then Tom turns to explain to her why James might seem abrupt:  his wife only died 8 months ago, “So don’t take it personally.”
     Just then James descends the stairs and asks Tom about his homework, wants to see his answers, then tells him, “Right.  You get topside, take a sight [navigational reading].  I want to know exactly where we are.  Off you go,” he says as he hands Tom a case with instruments.  “Careful with that,” he instructs.
     When Tom leaves, Margarita explains, “We were talking.  Do you object?”  “He’s got work to do.  I don’t want him distracted,” James tells her.  “He said he had finished,” she defends herself.  James offers her a glass of wine, and she thanks him.  
     “You are a most difficult man to talk to.  Oh, I know I’m here as cargo and no more, but I’ve endured 5 days with hardly a civil word.  Suspicion from Capt. Baines, and you ignore me.  I’m not complaining, but it does make this voyage a little tedious,” she says so gently that he could hardly take offense.  He answers, “I see.  So you find me rude and Capt. Baines suspicious.  Well, happen that’s our nature.”
     “It’s your damned English stiff-backed stubbornness, sir.”  Her tone doesn’t really match her characterization.  “And ‘happen’ you have reason for it.”  James asks for clarification.  She brings up his daughter and his recent loss.  He interrupts her with, “Ma’am, I . . . I suggest you leave that subject alone.”

     On another occasion, James is again busy with his books in the saloon when Margarita attempts to connect with him, “In my country, a woman is expected to say very little.”  “Good,” James answers shortly.  But she goes on, “I am not like these women, and I will not be told to keep silent to please any man.”  He doesn’t answer to that, and she pursues, “You know you can’t live forever on memories of love and with anger in your heart because you think you’ve failed.”
     He turns to her, “Failed?”  “Do you feel angry because you think you are the only one who suffers, who feels guilty, who feels the loss?”  She might have some experience with that, but she doesn’t say anything about it at this point.  She just goes on about James’ loss.  “Tom feels it for her, too, you know.”
     “Well he never said it to me,” he tells her.  “You’d have warned him off, guarding your loss like a dog at its meat,” she refers to the way he warned her off.  “Well, I apologize.”  When she says nothing more, he says, “I cannot say any more, can I?”
     Then she pries again, “Tell me of yourself.”  “I’m 47 years old [more like in his mid-50s, at least].  I’m a sailor out of Liverpool.  I have a difficult daughter.  I have some ships, few friends, and a cold house to come home to [now that Letty is gone].  Not much at my age is it?”  No doubt he is feeling the loss of his fortunes as well as his wife, and the love of his daughter.  Margarita chuckles quietly, so he says, “Don’t laugh at me, woman.”
     But he has misinterpreted her chuckle.  “My father always said to me, ‘A simple honest man is worth a thousand clever dishonest ones.’”
     
     Capt. Baines and Tom at the helm see James and Margarita on deck.  “Billin’ an’ cooin’ now, they are.  You seein’ ‘em, master?” Tom comments critically to Capt. Baines.  “I seen nothin’, heard nothin’, and you’d do well to say nothin’,” Capt. Baines advises the young man.  But Tom isn’t one to say nothing, “Missus not even cold in the ground.”  He raises his voice to say, “It’s not right, is it Cap’n Baines, sir?”  “I’ve told you before.  Mind yer business and hold yer tongue,”  Baines rebukes the irrepressible youth.
     “But is it right, though, eh?” Tom asks his master.  Margarita walks away from James, and Capt. Baines tell young Tom, “Keep ‘er [the ship] on course,” Baines is concerned at Margarita’s walking away.  But Tom keeps on, “Well is it?”  “What you and I think don’t make a gob o’ difference.  He’ll do just what ‘e wants,” Baines explains.  “Or get led by the nose,” the previously accepting Tom proposes.  
     Capt. Baines laughs.  “You know young Tom?  Sometimes I think you’ve got an old ‘ead on your shoulders.  Keep ‘er on the course,” Baines tells him.  He didn’t necessarily say Tom was right, but that the young man suspects such a thing is something a person older than himself would be more likely to do.
     Capt. Baines walks over to James, who comments cheerfully, “Fine morning, Baines.”  “Well it’s set fair.  That’s somethin’,” Baines answers.  “Oh come on man, ya haven’t cracked yer face since we left Barbados,” James says.  “Well I got things on my mind.  I mean, return cargos, for one thing.”
     “Yeah.  Well we wouldn’t need one if Frazers hadn’t stolen ours at New Orleans.  Oh, wait ‘til I get my hands on that Dunwoody [Elizabeth’s chief clerk]!” James exclaims.  “That Greek, Gavin . . . . whatever his name is,” Baines starts to say, and James corrects the name, “Gavrialides . . . he’s a good agent.  Stop worrying,” James walks away chuckling.  “Well someone has to,” Baines says.  

     Tom, with a book in his hands, watches James sitting smoking next to Margarita as she writes alight in a deck chair.  James holds her ink for her, and Tom shakes his head to see it.

     Seated at table below, James pours  a drink for Margarita at the end of their repast.  “Aye, you’re right,” he says, “I did dream of what I was gonna do, once.”  “Let me guess.  You were going to build an empire.  White colonnades on a country house, a park, ships in the harbor, a whole fleet of sailing ships.  Well, you did most of it didn’t you?” Margarita appreciates his accomplishments.
     “I did some of it, aye.  Our father was a ship’s chandler, but he left everything to me brother Robert,” James says without rancor.  “I worked meself up to captain . . .” James becomes pensive, “Aye, I did nearly build an empire . . . uh, then I lost it [more than once].  Now I’m building it again.”  James has become less morose, more hopeful.
     “It’s something,” Margarita says.  “Nah, it’s not enough.  I’ve got responsibilities:  men to keep in work, ships to maintain, cargos to find . . . Letty never really wanted to share that part with me . . . Well no . . . The truth is, I never asked her to share it with me.”  Although he had wanted her to sail with him, he didn’t ask her to be his partner in the way that Anne was.  He was not in that place in his life anymore.  
     “My wife died 8 months since, and I’ve never spoken of her until now.  Not to anyone,” he is able to tell her without gruffness, even with a pleasant look.  Though he had spoken of her to Elizabeth briefly, he could not open up in the way that he is now.  
     “When both my husband and son died, I could not talk, but then there was work to do.  Work for my father, for the people of our country.  My father says that dreams and wishes are like plants.   You water a plant and it will grow.  You forget to water and it may die, or it may just stop growing for a time.  Then when water comes, it will flower again,” Margarita looks down.  James encourages her, “Go on,” not his usual way of dealing with feelings.
     “My father says it just needs the right person for the dreams to come alive again.”  Her father obviously is a widower, so maybe he knows something about that.  “D’you believe all that?” James asks gently.  “I believe there is one dream stronger than any:  the dream between a man and a  woman.”  This makes one very curious about her relationship to her husband—did she have a dream relationship, was it more a marriage of youth, contract, convenience, a family alliance . . .?  Whatever it was, she obviously has a dream about a relationship now.
     Tom comes down saying, “Capt. Baines says you left a plate of stew for me.  James stands up, takes his napkin from his neck, pushes his own plate toward the young man who has interrupted a tender moment, takes the young man’s hat off and drops it on the table before he heads up on deck.
     Following are romantic scenes of James and Margarita on deck--not of embracing, but of talking.

     At docking, Margarita disembarks, then Tom.  He seems to have come to terms with his resentment of her.  He walks up to her and she asks, “Well, Tom?”  “Well, it niffs [smells] a bit, missus,” he comments.  “It’s good to be home,” she replies.  “Yeah, I always think that.  Then after a couple of days, I just want to get back to sea again.  Cooped up ashore is not good.”
     “Seems very quiet.  There are so few people,” Margarita notices with concern.  
     James comes onto the pier.  “Tom, seen Capt. Baines?”  “Takin’ on men to unload, sir,” Tom answers.  “Ah.  Well tell ‘im I’ve gone into town to see Gavrialides,” James gives him a task.  Tom says to Margarita, “Bye missus, good luck.”  She holds her hand up as women of her station and culture would do, but instead of putting his lips to it, Tom shakes it.  
     “So, ah, you all ready to go?” James asks Margarita.  She assents, and he says, “We shall miss you.”  “I’m sorry the voyage is finished,” she admits with her face lowered.  “Hmm.  So, you’ve uh, got everything,” he wants to make sure.  “I will send men to collect my baggage later,” she tells him.  “It’ll all be ready and waiting,” he promises.  “Thank you for the voyage.  I hope I haven’t been too much trouble,” she says to him.
     “No trouble,” James, the changed man, responds.  “I think Capt. Baines would not agree with you.  Perhaps you will come to my father’s house.  He would enjoy meeting with you, and I would like to see you again,” Margarita lifts her hand to him, and he, with almost a quick glance at his sailors watching from aloft, kisses her hand.  She goes her way, and he looks after her.  He sighs as he glances at his sailors, who get back to their business, then he goes about his own business.

     At Gavrialides’ tropical office, James sits at a small table meant to serve as a desk.  Gavrialides asks if he had a pleasant journey as he brings in a small shiny tray with a shiny coffee set.  “I trust you found our President’s daughter an interesting companion.”  “What do you know about her?” James asks him, somewhat suspicious.  The agent laughs, “If you were a trader in these parts you would make it your business to know everything before everyone else.”  James has traded in the Caribbean for years, or at least sent Baines to do it.
     “Or, you’d end up with a cut throat,” Gavrialides continues, “or worse, an empty safe.  Did she say why she comes back?”  “To see her father,” James gives a short answer, perhaps all he knows.  “Ah, enough sugar?” the host asks.  “Why, is it important,” James isn’t asking about sugar in the coffee.  “Oh, now, come on.  I’ve known ya a long time,” James invites more information.
     “Maybe later, old friend.  Just for now, don’t unload your cargo,” the man cautions.  “Too late.  Already on the quayside.”  “Then get it back aboard.  No one’s paying for it here.”  “Nobody’s what?” James questions to make sure he heard right.  “Oh now, come on.  You said cash, cash on the nail,” James is perturbed.
     “If I can’t get cash from the merchant, how can I give you cash?” the man tells him calmly.  Less calmly, James replies, “You just tell ‘im I want my money.”  “You’ve met the President’s daughter.  He had a wife, God bless her soul.  And the wife had a brother, and that one is the merchant who’s got your money.”
     “I don’t give a damn who it is!” James sits back without relaxing, rather, he gets up.  “Look, be a good chap.  Take your cargo and quietly sail away from Guyada,” the agent advises, “It would be the wisest.  Believe an old friend.”  “I’ve never yet taken a cargo back on board, and I’m not about to start now.”
     “James, there is a problem here.”  “What problem?”  “Don’t stir the pot.  You stay in business here by keeping quiet.  People leave a poor Greek alone to turn a penny that way.”  “Ya expect me to leave a cargo back there, that’s not paid for?” James comes back into the room face to face with his old friend.  
     “Now listen, if you sail this afternoon, I’ll give you a package to take, something of value and of profit to you.”  “No.  You listen to me.  I’m owed money, and I want paid before I go anywhere.”  He walks out, too stubborn to listen.  That stubbornness has served him well at times, but not this time.  Gavrialides takes a package from his safe, wanders a bit, thinking, then puts it under some trashed papers in a basket for that purpose.  He crumples more papers to add to the top of it, then pours the coffee from the cups and pot in as well.  He pushes it back under his table/desk with his foot.
     
     “Reload?” Baines asks, “There isn’t a damned stevedore in sight.  They unloaded, took their pay, and went.”  “I’ve a cargo on that dockside.  Now somebody’s got to pay for it,” James tells his captain, as he had his agent.  “Well who?” Baines asks.  “The merchant.  He’s got a brother-in-law, a President Juárez.  So, I’ll start at the top.”  With that, James starts to the top of the hill, to the President’s residence.
     On his way up the stone steps, 2 men next to a drawing of said President watch him ascend.  James pushes through the fancy gates cautiously.  He is admitted to the President’s residence, furnished with old world charm, by a soldier dressed in a red uniform.   James walks through French doors into a garden, but is soon greeted by a distinguished man matching the drawing of the President.
     “Capt. Onedin, I’m Juárez,” the man says simply, extending his hand.  “My daughter said that you might call.”  “Aye, well, I’m here,” James answers simply as they walk back indoors.  “I wish I could be pleased you brought her back,” President Juárez laments.
     “Well, actually, sir, I came here to see you about one of your other relatives . . . your brother-in-law.  He owes me . . . money.  There’s a cargo on the dockside not paid for.”  “Please, sit down,” the President invites, then offers, “Will you have a cool drink?”  James thanks him, sits, and says, “I thought maybe you could point out to him his forgetfulness . . . put some pressure to bear on him.”
     “Not on him,” the President says sadly, “Not now.  No.”  “What do you mean ‘not now’?”  “I have very little time,  There is going to be an attempt to overthrow my regime.  I sent my daughter away because I knew of it.”  “Did you tell ‘er?”  “Would she have gone had she known?”  “No,” James admits.  He knows her enough to know that.
     “My brother-in-law is ambitious and ruthless,” he turns to say.  “Ah, well that’s none of my business.  I’m a sailor, not a politician.  I really don’t want to get involved,” James has got up and come to say directly to the troubled man.  “You already are involved.  If they are successful, they’ll find a convenient wall for me, and possibly for her.  Your ship will be impounded.  They will say you must be involved if you brought my daughter back.  So I want you to take her away.”
     “Well, she’s made her choice,” James also knows her well enough that she has her own mind and will.  
     “Do you have children?” he asks James.  “I have a daughter,” James admits without elaboration.  “We fathers have 2 loyalties.  One to our country, the other to our child . . . our blood,” the man assumes James has like feelings to his own.  “Which is the stronger?” the president asks.  
     James takes a deep breath, “Well, I’m the wrong person to answer that,” he says as he wanders.
     “If you love your daughter, sir, you will understand what Margarita means to me.  She chose to come back to be with me.  The road to the white wall at noon is not one she should walk.”  The loving and beloved father walks out.  In walks Margarita with her classic grey dress and small crucifix necklace.
     “James,” she says with gladness in her voice as she walks toward him.  “You didn’t tell me, did you?” he confronts her.  “I’ve a ship and crew in that harbor, a cargo not paid for, now I find I’m in the middle of a revolution!  Why didn’t you tell me?”
     “I didn’t know, James,” she says.  “Why were you in such a hurry to get home?” he wants to know.  “There have been times like this before,” she feels is a good enough explanation.  “He wants me to take you away . . . wants me to persuade you.”  “Please, don’t try, James,” her voice is gentle as ever, but no less convincing.  “I’m not afraid to stay.  My father needs me with him,” she believes, not understanding what is most important to him.  
     “Margarita, you’re in great danger,” James says factually.  “You think I’m afraid of danger?  I will tell you something.  I was married when I was 18.  When my husband and child were killed in the last revolution, I carried them through the jungle.  I wanted them to be buried properly by a priest.  So do not warn me to be afraid of danger, James Onedin.  I know what I am doing,” she says without gentleness, this time.
     “You lead 20 men and me into danger without so much as a word of warning, and ya have the gall to tell me you know what you’re doing?” James is also not using a gentle voice, but he lowers it to say, “Maybe you knew all along, hmm?”  He takes a breath, “Well, now I have to find a way out for my men,” he says to the back she has turned on him, then turns his back on her to walk away.  “I’ll not see them rot in some jail [or worse].”
     She whips around to call after him, “James, I’m sorry.”  “So am I,” he says, then leaves.

     Onboard ship, the old navy gunner Bill Turner is cleaning up what Capt. Baines has bought as  “Morgan’s Cannon”.  (Morgan the  17th century Buccaneer/Pirate of the Caribbean).  “Been under water for years,” the gunner says.  “Well of course it has.  But could it be one of his?  Morgan’s?” Baines asks his expert.  “I seen some cannons, Captain, but never one as old and rusted as this before.  See yere, and yere, all ate away with rust, and inside the barrel yere,” Turner shows.  “But is it old enough?” Baines keeps pressing.  “I wouldn’t like to fire ‘er Captain, and that’s a fact.”  “No one’s askin’ ya to fire it!  But could it be old enough to be Morgan’s?”  “Maybe.  Could be.  Yeah.”
     “Ahoy below,” comes the call from aloft, “There’s some soldiers down by the steps, Capt. Baines.  Capt. Baines calls for, “Meadows, Adams, Baker, look lively there.  Mostyn, Parkin, bring in that gangplank.  Keep watchin’ Tom,” who is the sailor aloft.
     James comes trotting down the stone steps from the Presidential residence.  Tom shouts out, “Meadows, Baker, get that gangplank out for Capt. Onedin!”  James gets aboard quick.
     The Greek’s office is being ransacked as he is held at knife point and forced to open his safe.  After destroying the place, the ruffians at last decide there is nothing worth looting, and leave.  The Greek agent grabs his coat and hat, and the package he had secreted in the trash, and leaves.
     James asks, “Would you leave ‘er, Baines, knowing she’d be shot, if she’s lucky?”  “It was her choice, she must have known what she was coming back to,” Baines is uncharacteristically unsympathetic.  “She told me she didn’t know,” James tells the man who has acted as his conscience many times before.  “Aw, fiddlesticks,” Baines looks away.
     “Well I don’t want her shot, whatever the truth,” James tells him.  “Well I don’t like women aboard ship, and that woman is damned stubborn.”  Has he (or the writers) forgotten how he first became acquainted with Anne’s stubbornness? (S1 E2)  “She’s brave, more like,” Tom offers.  “Sometimes not much to choose between the two, Tom,” James tells him.  “Right then,” James says, taking a deep breath, ”We’ll keep a man up aloft, 2 extra men on watch, get the ship ready for sailing, only so’s nothin’ shows from ashore.”
     “Why wait?  5 minutes, we get up sail, cut and go,” Capt. Baines questions James.  “Because I want to find something out first, Baines.  I’m going into the town at first light.”
     “’E’s gonna get ‘imself killed.  Can’t ya tell ‘im, master?  I mean, ‘e’s not goin’ back there to get the cash we’re owed, now is ‘e?” Tom questions Capt. Baines in turn, the next morn.  Capt. Baines stands by James, despite his own misgivings, as always (almost), “It’s none o’ your business, boy.”  “’e’s goin’ fer that woman.  You know ‘e is.”  “What I know and what I talk about, Tom, are 2 different things,” Baines literally points out to the boy, to his chest.
     A man aloft yells out, “Capt. Baines!  There’s someone coming across the quay!”  Tom runs down to tell James, “Capt. Onedin, there’s a man comin’ to the quayside.”  James is busy ripping cloth.  “Capt. Baines can deal with ‘im,” he tells the boy.  “Tom, I’ve got some work for you.  You can refuse if you want to,” James looks at the young man.  “Go with you, sir?” Tom guesses, “Yeah, I’ll come,” he’s cheerfully willing to attend one of his heroes.
     Gavrialides comes below with Baines ahead of him, “I must speak to him.  I must!  James, you are mad!  You should have left by now.  The rebels took over at 3 in the morning.  They already came to my place and smashed it up.  I tell you, you must leave!”
     James sets aside what he’s doing, “Where’s the President?”  “In his house.  But the rebels will soon take over the house, him, and his daughter.  It’s too late to do anything for them now.  So, I have something for you to sell for me when you get back,” he shows James his package.  “Emeralds.  Put the money in an English bank.  You can have 15%, but only if you sail now.”
     “I’ll go when I’m good and ready.  Anway, if you want to send these emeralds, you have no choice but to use me ship.  Now how about you?”  “I shall survive, once they are sure I’ve got nothing of value,”  “I think you’d survive anywhere, Petros,” James gives him an affectionate hand to his shoulder.  “I hope so.  Now listen, James.  They will stop all ships entering and leaving by midday.  It’s happened before.  So you have about 3 hours to make up your mind and go!”  All this is punctuated by gunfire in the distance.
     “I’ll go when I’m ready!” James insists again.  
     “By this evening they will have executed the President.  They will make a public show of it.  They will tell people he’s been cheating them for years!” Gavrialides stresses strenuously.  “Is it true?” James asks.  “I don’t know if it’s true or not!  It’s his business, and God’s now.  Look.  Go now, please,” he pleads.
     “No.  I’m going ashore first,” James answers, then instructs, “Capt. Baines, 12 noon sharp, cut loose the ship.  You then take ‘er out to sea.  You then sail ‘er home,” James hands Baines the package of emeralds, as Baines has been answering, “Right . . . Right . . . Right, sir.”

     Up at the Presidential residence, the President and his daughter are burning important papers, as a lone soldier stands at the French doors to protect them.  “You should have gone with him, my dear,” he tells her, but she says, “No.”  “My guards will save their own skin when the time comes.  It’s only natural.”

     James and Tom, dressed like locals, sneak up to the President’s home.  They see rebels herding soldiers out of the gate, and Tom says, “Looks like we’re too late.”  “Come on,” James whispers to him, and they go through the vegetation to a back door.  It doesn’t yield to James efforts to open it.  He nods to Tom and leans up against the wall with his back creating a ledge for Tom to jump up onto the wall and climb over.  A church bell tolls and rebels herd soldiers past just as Tom gets the door open from inside the wall.  

     Margarita tells her father from the French doors, “Some of your guards have surrendered.”  “Soon they will come for us,” he reminds her.  James bursts through the door, “You’ve a minute to make up your mind.  Either you stay here or you come with me,” James commands.
     “We can’t,” Margarita responds.  “I’m talking to the President,” James tells her as he walks past her to her father.  “Father, don’t listen to him, please.  I will stay.”  “I cannot go, Onedin,” the President tells his rescuer.
     “You hypocrite,” James accuses him.  “’My blood, our children.’  Ya didn’t mean a word of it!  Well you might want to be a martyr, but what about her?”  “Save her,” he whispers to James.  “She won’t go without you!” James yells at him.  “What is your decision?  She could be dead by noon,” James tells him in a lowered voice.  
     Next we see all 4 of them dressed as peasants, the President with a rifle in the lead, then his daughter, James also carrying rifle, and Tom.  As they descend, Margarita has taken the front, and the others follow.
     Capt. Baines watches anxiously through a telescope, closes it with frustration when he doesn’t see Tom and James.
     The four go right to the front gate, where rebels stand.  James attempts to hide his English complexion.  The President speaks to the rebels as though he is one of them, telling them, “The President has escaped and the leader of the insurrection [the President’s brother-in-law] has offered a reward of 10,000 ducats for whoever finds him, dead or alive.”
    Now Capt. Baines is watching his watch, as he watches the shore.  The sailors are tensely awaiting the word to cut and go.  “One minute, ready with the axe,” Capt. Baines calls to them.  Then, “Cut it!  Get the headsails on.  Let the wind take ‘er, helmsman.”  The ship starts out to sea.  One might wonder that Baines would leave James, but he knows full well that the rest of the crew depend on him for their lives.  He’d have no thanks from James if he lost all their lives for James’ sake.
     James and the other 3 (the 2 men armed with rifles) come down the stone steps as explosions fill the air with danger.  And the ship has sailed.  “Wait!” Tom yells again and again, though none on the ship could possibly hear him. 
     The chase is on, and the 4 refugees clamber under the timbers of the dock.  The rebels fire at them as they keep moving.  The President turns to fire back.  The other 3 jump in a row boat, and James and Tom pull hard on the oars.  The President was taking aim, shot and was shot as he tried to escape in another rowboat.  James tells Tom to change course to avoid fire.
     The ship has seen them.  They watch the rowers without being able to rescue them.  “If they hit them [with the cannon on the shore], they’ll be blown to kingdom come,” Turner comments to Capt. Baines, who doesn’t need to be told.  
     “We gotta do something about it,” Capt. Baines responds.  “Turner, will that cannon of mine fire?”  “That, sir?  It’s old.  Barrel’s still rusted up.”  “I know that, man, but will it fire?”  “Might.  Damn it, Captain, that could be one of Morgan’s cannon, you gonna risk . . .” Turner is interrupted by the explosion of the cannon on the shore.
     “Look, we’ve got to take a chance.  And if we don’t put that cannon out of action, he’s gonna blow Capt. Onedin right out of the water!”  Capt. Baines is desperate.  “Chance it, sir?  Best go get some powder,” Turner gives himself the task.
     With cannon balls splashing close, James tells Tom, “Change course again.”  Another explosion, another order from James, “Right, change course, Tom.”
     Capt. Baines finds the position of the cannon on the shore with his telescope, gives the telescope to Turner.  “Can you hit ‘em?”  “Old navy gunner, me, sir.  But I’ll not fire this [unless] every man’s aft, including yourself, sir.”  Turner calls directions for the positioning of the ship.  When the old cannon is in just the right position, he fires it, and hits his target.  The cannon ashore, and its explosives explode.  A general cheer goes up among the crew.  
     James in the rowboat says, “You were right, Tom.  That’s a fine cannon [Baines’].”  He and Tom exchange smiles.   Capt. Baines looks with sorrow on Turner, who gave his life to fire the old cannon and save Capt. Onedin.  
     James climbs aboard and walks over to his captain, “Well Baines,” he laughs, “I reckon I cut that a bit fine.”  But then he sees the bloody, charred body of Turner.  He asks, “Who?”  “Turner.  Old Navy man.  And I told him to fire that cannon.”  Capt. Baines walks away devastated.  Tom walks up, sees the body, starts after Capt. Baines, but James stops him, “Nay, leave him be.  He’s best left alone.”  James is not immune to the tragedy, but he has had to face such tragedies before, as has Baines, and James understands that Baines needs some time and space.  Tom also feels the tragedy as he looks on it.
     James walks down the deck to Margarita, who’s staring solemnly back at the shore.  “Your father, he was a brave man.  And honest,” James says the only thing he knows how to say to try to comfort her.  “Yes,” she responds.  “What do you do now?” he asks her.  “You will have to decide that, James.  I’m too tired.”  Where are her friends and extended family?  With whom did she stay when she was away from her father?  But through these traumatic few days, she can only continue to rely on James, who is present here and now.
       “We’ll go home,” James says decisively.  

S8 E4—James and his 3rd bride Margarita spend their honeymoon on business in Sumatra
     Riding in a carriage along that same foggy road home he brought first Letty, later Tom, James is telling his new bride, “The Dutch ship caught fire just after leaving Liverpool, so, Elizabeth arranged for us to carry her cargo to the East Indies.”
     “She is very clever, Isabel, yes?”  Margarita reacts.  “Oh, aye, she was scuttling her skirts down to the agent while the competitors were still watching the smoke go up,” James tells her with amusement.
     “I think she does not like me,” Margarita expresses her fears.  “Oh, yes, she will do,” James assures her.  “You had something to ask me,” Margarita ventures.  “Oh yes.  How would you feel if instead of going to Salcombe [SW England] for our honeymoon, we went to Sumatra?”  “Salcombe, Sumatra, or the ends of the world . . . All I want is that we are together.”

     The gathering at James’ house to celebrate his 3rd wedding includes family, friends, his and Elizabeth’s chief clerks . . . and Dunwoody tells Dawkins,  “But she knows nothing at all of the business world.”  Dawkins replies, “A wife doesn’t need to understand her husband’s business.  Indeed, it’s all to the good if she doesn’t.  She’s better able to take his mind off his work when he gets home of an evening.” Dunwoody is married, and we presume that Dawkins is as well.  Perhaps in their positions, it wouldn’t do to say too much about their jobs.  Their opinions on the matter of wives sounds very like the harem women in S2 E9.
     “Oh, I think she’ll be able to do that well enough,” Dunwoody is sure.  And Dawkins concurs, “Oh, yes indeed.  The Spanish are well noted for their  . . . uh, their . . . “  “Their fiery nature, you mean?” Dunwoody supplies the words Dawkins was trying to express.  “Something like that, yes.”  “But the Spanish don’t have a monopoly in fiery natures, you know,” Dunwoody thinks to inform Dawkins, “Far from it . . .”
     Elizabeth is talking to her nephew Samuel, “Well I don’t like her, and I never shall.  Don’t ask my why, because I don’t know.  It’s just instinct.  And her insistence on calling me Isabel doesn’t help matters.”  “Perhaps she finds Elizabeth difficult to say, Aunt,” Samuel proposes.  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Elizabeth refuses to accept his excuse.  “Well, they do pronounce their words differently, don’t they?  And after all, Isabel is the Spanish equivalent, as she explained.  [he chuckles]  It’s the way she says it, too, in those soft liquid tones.  Yes, I must say I think Isabel does sound most attractive.”  “Not to my ears, it doesn’t,” Elizabeth is adamant.  
     “Anyway, she’s much too young for James.  He’s old enough to be her father,” Elizabeth has yet another objection.  “I must say you wouldn’t think so seeing them together,” Samuel counters.  “Oh, it’s the old story,” Elizabeth exhales as if she wishes the relationship to expire.  “The grieving widower losing his head over the first pretty face that looks his way.”  After the way Elizabeth chided her brother for his long mourning over Anne, and her frustration that James took so long to propose to Letty . . .  
     “Oh, come now.  Uncle James is so level-headed,” Samuel comes to the defense of the couple.  “They’re not only unsuited in years, but in temperament, in outlook, in . . .”  “Religion,” Samuel provides the word that he knows all are concerned about.
     “Well can you think of anything more ridiculous?  The bride and groom in church and us waiting here,” Elizabeth again complains.  “To tell you the truth, Aunt Elizabeth, I thought it admirably tactful of Uncle James not to ask us to attend the ceremony.  It makes his bride feel less conscious of the fact that none of her family were able to be present.  And, of course, at the same time, it absolved us from any discomfort we may have felt in having to witness a Catholic ceremony.”
     “You’re determined to be difficult,” Elizabeth accuses him of the very thing she is guilty.  “Oh, I’m sorry, Aunt.  I wasn’t meaning to be.”
     Mrs. Gibson comes in and announces Capt. Baines, who is dressed in his best uniform, with Tom right behind him in his.  Elizabeth goes to him smiling, “Have you finished loading?”  “Yes, my lady.  But, uh, I haven’t signed on a full crew yet, so I shant be able to stay long.”  “Oh, well, James won’t have had the time to tell you, I’m sure, but he’s decided to sail with you,” Elizabeth informs Baines. 
     “What, on ‘is honeymoon?”  Capt. Baines questions in amazement.

     The coach with the newlyweds pulls up to the big country house, as James and Margarita are sharing a kiss.  “Here we are,” James says cheerfully.  Margarita is full of doubts about meeting the family.  James sees that and reassures her, “This is your home . . . They’re just guests,” he says with a quick cock of his head, then a wide grin.
     Inside, Capt. Baines offers James his hand and a congratulations.  Samuel, too, shakes the groom’s hand, with “My heartiest congratulations, Uncle.  My congratulations to you, too, Margarita,” and gives her a kiss.  “I’m sorry, I suppose I should call you Aunt.”  “Oh, I hope not,” she is more comfortable with “Margarita”.  She is nearer Samuel’s age than her husband’s.  “Well, I hope you and Uncle James will be very happy together.”
     Elizabeth then comes forward to wish James congratulations, and, “My congratulations to you, Margarita.”  “Thank you, Isabel,” Margarita returns, and Samuel and Capt. Baines give each other a look.  Margarita gives “Isabel” a kiss, and Elizabeth turns away, looking down, “If you will both kindly excuse me . . .”
     James takes a champagne from the roving tray and follows his sister, who apologizes, “I’m sorry.  It’s such a petty thing, I know, but when she calls me Isabel . . .”  James leans over to explain, but Elizabeth continues, “No, please.  Samuel has explained about the pronunciation being different, and that Isabel is the Spanish equivalent . . .”  James inserts, “Isabel was her mother’s name.”  “Oh, I didn’t know that,” but Elizabeth is still peeved, “That’s no reason why she can’t call me by my proper name.”  It seems James doesn’t feel inclined to insist that his new bride accommodate herself to his family’s preferences.
     “Ever since we’ve come home, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid her.  Now why, hmm?” James observes and asks.  “She despises me,” Elizabeth feels.  “Despises you?” James asks.  “Oh, I know she tries not to show it, but I can see the contempt every time she looks at me.”  Surely we ought to give Elizabeth the benefit of the doubt, rather than to assume she’s projecting her own feelings onto Margarita, and we don’t often see Elizabeth doubting herself.  But sometimes people react so, to people who seem foreign.
     But James assures his sister, “She admires you.  She said so only a few minutes ago.  And she meant it.”  Elizabeth says humbly, “Then the fault is with me.  I compare myself with her.  Unfavorably.”  Elizabeth sighs, “She’ll be a good wife to you, James, the kind of wife I should have been to Daniel.”  
     “Here.  You know what I think?  I think it’s time you paid Daniel a visit again,” James takes his sister by her arms.  “Nonsense,” Elizabeth gently objects.  “Yes, I can look after things here,” he offers.  “And what about the East Indies venture?” she asks.  “Eh, it can wait,” he says magnanimously.  “It can’t wait.  You said yourself the only way to pay back our debts [for the £50,000 ransom] is to find this new trade.  And there’re some fine cargos in those Java ports,” Elizabeth argues in a tempered voice.  “And the Dutch have fought hard for those cargos.  They’re not going to give up their trade that easily,” James admits.
     “Well you’re not going to let a few Dutch-controlled ports stand in our way, surely,” Elizabeth knows her brother’s abilities.  “We need to get cargos in and out of those ports to make the whole venture worthwhile,” James speaks to her as a partner, rather than as a competitor (a whole different way of relating, than they have over the years).
     “So you said you’d find a way,” again, Elizabeth trusts her brother’s creative problem-solving and shrewdness.  “Aye.  And so far I haven’t,” he admits.  But it’s not the first time he has pursued a goal without knowing exactly how it would play out.  “I think I’m beginning to understand . . . why you want to pack me off to Turkey . . . You want to make me the excuse for you not sailing to the East Indies, and I know the reason.  She [Elizabeth glances back at Margarita] doesn’t want to go,” Elizabeth is back to her competitive mood.
     “She does want to go.  ‘Salcombe or Sumatra or the ends of the world,’ she said, ‘so long as we’re together.’” James quotes Margarita.   “I should have known that would be her attitude,” Elizabeth is humbled again, in comparing herself to James’ gentle new wife.  She turns and escapes.

     Margarita stands by James under his umbrella (and her own smaller parasol) in the light rain, watching Capt. Baines taking on a crew.  When she hears Baines call for able seaman Kettle’s Certificate of Discharge, she looks to James to explain.  “Yes, it’s given to a seaman at the end of a voyage.  Then he has to present it to his next Master.”  Capt. Baines goes through the man’s character, good and fair.  He gives the man a chance to explain, which he does, excusing himself for being a “bit hasty with me hands now and again.  But there’s not a mutinous bone in either one.”  Capt. Baines gives him a critical look-over, but allows him to sign on.  It’s at least the mid 1880s, but the man still signs with an X.
      The next man is Jack Avery.  Baines chuckles in recognition.  “Well, I ‘ad the East Indies in mind.  Now what do you reckon? . . . You’ll want to tell me how to run my ship and how to treat my crew, I thought you’d want to tell me where I’ll be sailing, as well.”
     Hearing this, Margarita asks James, “Is he a bad seaman?”  He answers, “No.  No, he’s very good.  Only he’s a union leader . . . Well, he fights for better wages and conditions for the seamen, you see.”
     Capt. Baines tells Avery, “You find another Master who doesn’t know ya.  Or one who does and doesn’t mind cuttin’ ‘is own throat before ‘is  voyage is out.  Go on, get out.”  Avery walks away, but Margarita asks James, “Are we to snatch the bread from the mouths of his family simply because he puts his fellow men before himself?”  Similar words James has heard from other women in his life.
      “The captain signs on the crew,” James excuses.  “But you are the owner, James.  I thought you would be more just,” Margarita in her gentle voice seeks to influence her husband to be what she understands as his best self.  With the body language of a man giving in to his wife, James once again accommodates her wishes.  He calls, “Jack Avery,” then walks over to his captain, “Baines.  I’d like you to reconsider your decision.”  “Are you telling me to?” Baines asks.  James looks back at his wife, then bends down low to speak in a low voice, “Aye.  Sign him on.”  Baines reluctantly does so, as James goes back over to his new wife. 

     The voyage begins.  Avery is climbing aloft when he looks down on a gruff man knocking one hand with a thickly braided rope in the other.  A fellow seaman comes up behind Tom, the apprentice, and names that threatening man, “Tiger Tyrell.  He’s got more blood on ‘is ‘ands than all the murderers who’ve ever escaped being ‘ung.”  Tiger whacks a can with his weapon as a warning to Avery. 
     James comes below deck and confronts Capt. Baines, “Why sign on a troublemaker like Tyrell when there’s aplenty of other bosuns to be ‘ad?”  “The Master signs ‘is crew.  Leastways, he’s supposed to.  Any trouble from Jack Avery and Tiger will eat ‘im raw.,” Baines defends his decision.  “You mean he’ll give the sailmaker another job . . . making a canvas coffin.  Every voyage that the Tiger makes, there’s a death onboard,” James doesn’t like.  “Yeah, that’s just talk.  I mean there’s nothing ever been proved against ‘im.”  “Nay.  That’s because the Master’s always on ‘is side,” James says.  “As this one will be,” Baines announces his own prejudice.  James scoffs and walks away.
     He comes into his cabin and closes the door with a “Right” spoken under his breath.
     As James takes off his jacket, Margarita pauses brushing her long dark hair and asks, “You are coming to bed?”  This catches James off guard, “Uh, yes I am.”  “But I thought you were . . . How do they say it?  On watch.”  “On watch?  On my wedding night?” James queries.  “Well, that’s what they said,” Margarita tells him.
     “Said?” James drops his jacket on the bed and sits slowly down.  “The owner is always on watch until four bells.  I heard the men talking on deck.  When I asked Capt. Baines what ‘four bells’ meant, he said 2 o’clock in the morning,” Margarita reveals her naivete. James is now grinning.
     “What are you smiling at?” she asks the groom.  “Well, I think you’ve had your first taste seaman’s humor,” he explains.  “What?  You mean they intended me to overhear them?”  When he chuckles, she says, “Well I do not think it is something to smile at.”  “Well, I’ll . . . I’ll ‘ave a sharp word to say to them tomorrow,” he teases her.  She smiles, “The English humor [or seamen’s humor, or just plain men’s humor].  You will have to help me to understand it.”  James finds it humorous himself.
     As he sighs like a tired man retiring to his bed, she asks, “You do not regret? . . . Marrying with me.”  He is gently amused and explains, “It’s not ‘marrying with me’, it’s just ‘marrying me’.”  “More humor?”  “If you were to ask me that in five years’ time, well, I’d have understood it.  But to ask me do I regret marrying you not 10 hours after leaving the church?” James had asked Anne such a question when his fortunes were ruined, and she was not at all sorry.  She had found something more important than financial fortune.  (S1 E15)  
     “You know what I mean,” Margarita tells him.  “Do I?” he is really asking her if she actually understands what she’s asking.  “Did you consider it well enough before you asked me?  Ten months [after Letty passed away, apparently], that is all.”  But James has had many years to consider how to choose a wife, and the experiences to fit him for making a good choice.  
     James is gentle and kind as he sits but a foot away from his kind and gentle, beautiful new bride; he says, “You’ve been listening to the Liverpool tongues wagging.”  “Yes, but I didn’t need to.  The question was already in my own mind, if I was right for you.”  He is thoughtful as he asks, “Why do you wait until now to bring it up?”  “I was afraid I might lose you,” she is honest, “I loved you so much, and I wanted you to be mine.  Was that so very wrong of me?”  “Oh, I don’t know.  I don’t very much care,” he pulls her to him and kisses her.   His manner is relaxed with her, and he looks genuinely happy.  Whether that is the influence her gentle ways have had on him, or the easier relationship between the actors (Gilmore & Roberta Iger vs the final episodes with Jill Gascoine), I, at least, don’t know.  It seemed to me that there was a difference in the way the parts of Letty and James were played toward the end.
     Of course, it is tempting to compare how much Leonora had wanted James to want her, and for him to be hers.  She, too, was much younger than he (even less an age difference than between James and Margarita.  Of course 15 years’ difference when one is young, is a much greater gap than when one is older).  But James was in a different place in his life all those years ago (about 15, more or less).  He was so lately bereaved at first, he wasn’t attracted to such a young woman who slavishly idolized and chased him.  He was distracted by Caroline, and by the time he came to appreciate Leonora enough to decide to marry her, he’d lost her.  Margarita has come into his life after all those experiences (including the years with Letty).  Although Margarita intruded into his feelings before he felt ready, she was gentle and understanding, had the experience of losing a spouse she loved (and a child, as well as a mother,--though Leonora had lost her mother, too).  He has come to realize that he does need love in his life, some of his rough edges have been polished, and let it not be underestimated that he found himself her protector (not the first time he’s been a woman’s protector).  He has come a long way.

     Margarita brings a package (of smokes?) to James on deck, and they walk along past Avery, who smiles at them.  Tiger notices, and takes the opportunity to vex him with, “The owner’s wife, eh?  You take after your father, eh?  Lazy, clever-tongued womanizer.”  Avery retorts, “He told me about the likes of you.  How he suffered at your hands.”  Tiger taps Avery’s shoulder with his braided rope, “I see.  Looking for revenge, are we?”  Avery, the much smaller man, laughs wryly, “My father relieved his own sufferings by making us suffer.  My mother and me.”  Avery closes his eyes briefly in remembrance, then goes on, “He died 3 weeks ago.  And I didn’t shed a tear for him.  So I won’t be looking to shed any blood for him, now, will I?  Sorry to disappoint you, Tiger.”  
     At that, Tiger comes down hard on Avery’s shoulder, knocking him to the deck.  “If ‘e lays into me like that, I’ll kill ‘im,” able seaman Kettle tells a fellow sailor.  
     
     On an isle in the West Indies, Margarita with her parasol is escorted by a gracious trader about his grounds.  “It is a very charming garden, Mr. van der Rheede.”  “My father was very fond of gardening.  Now my brother Theodore looks after it, when he’s not poring over the company’s ledgers.”  
     “So your father founded the shipping company,” she realizes.  “Yes, and he lived in this house with my mother.  Theodore and I were both born here, and we’ve lived here ever since.”  
     “It is very kind of you to entertain us like this,” Margarita is also gracious.  “It was my brother’s thought.  When we heard from our agent in Liverpool that Mr. Onedin’s sister, um, Lady Fogarty . . . that she had taken the trouble to visit the injured seamen from our ship, the least we could do in return was to entertain you on your arrival here.  Oh, you will have some more coffee, I’m sure.”  “Thank you Mr. van der Rheede.”
     “Oh, please.  We have known each other almost 3 hours.  Please, call me Max.”  “Very well, Max.”  “And you are . . .”  he begins as he leads her to the table on the veranda.  “Margarita.”  “Margarita . . . How it suits you.”  He indicates for her to sit.  “You were born in Spain?”  “No, in South America.  In Guyada.  My father was the President, until three months ago.  He was killed by rebels,” she looks down.
     “Mmm.  I sensed a tragedy.  Strange, is It not, how tragedy sits upon us like a halo for all to see.  My parents died when I was 10 years old.  Theodore was almost 4.”  He slows and looks away as he remembers, “My father had taken my mother sailing.  A rare event.  My mother was not fond of the sea.  It frightened her.”  He takes in a breath, “A storm came up.  The boat overturned.  They were both drowned out there in the bay.”  A servant brings more coffee in a beautiful, ornate silver pitcher.
     Der Rheede chuckles.  “Why after all these years am I still not married, hmm?  You know, sitting here like this with a beautiful woman is the only time that I am truly content, and yet . . .” he waves his hand to indicated the irony of it.
     “What about Theodore?  Is he married?” she asks.  “Theodore!” he laughs.  “Poor Theodore.  Women frighten him to death.  And yet he falls in love with every woman that he meets.  It’s true, I tell you.  He’s already in love with you, and he has known you only 3 hours.”  “Max.  I don’t believe you.”  “Then watch him, the way he looks at you, the way he doesn’t look at you.”  He pours the coffee.
     “You are longing to be unloaded and setting sail for Liverpool, are you not?” he asks, and she looks at him questioningly.  “I mean, only as a bride, you must be longing  to settle into your new home.”  “Yes I am,” she admits, “But we shall not be sailing for several weeks.  James has some business here.”  
     He takes that in, but then he notices, “Ah.  Here comes Theodore.  Now just see how much he admires you.”  Theodore is accompanied by James and Capt. Baines.  James greets his bride, “Ah, my dear,” with a kiss.  Max stands, Theodore hands Margarita a handful of flowers from the gardens.  
     “Thank you, Theodore.  They are very beautiful,” she accepts them.  Max invites James and Capt. Baines to sit.  Theodore, with straw hat in hand stammers to Margarita, “Oh, uh, I’ll have them put in water until it is time for you to leave.”  Max chuckles.
     “A lovely view of the bay you have here, sir,” Baines comments.  “Yes, it is a splendid view, is it not?” plainly it doesn’t have the same beauty for him as it does for others, but he quickly passes on, “Of course we have become used to it, and so we do not appreciate it as much as we should.”  But Margarita looks down, knowing why the view is not as beloved as it might be.
     Max offers cigars to Capt. Baines and James.  “Your brother was telling us about the collision in Singapore,” Baines mentions.  “Yes, I’m afraid that involved us in some very costly and wearisome legal proceedings.  And then just 4 months ago we lost our newest and most expensive steamer ship in a storm.”  Max sits, “I must tell you Mr. Onedin, that when I heard the news from Liverpool that our other ship had caught fire, I cursed the whole shipping world and wished that my father had never gone into it.”
     “With a special curse, no doubt, for those ship owners who would benefit from such a calamity,” James doesn’t come across very sympathetic.  “Indeed.  But then, of course, had I been in your place, I would have done the same thing.  Had I been that much in need of a cargo.  But then, perhaps it was not just the need of that one cargo, so much as the opportunity it afforded.”  The two men play a verbal chess game, not exactly a friendly one.  “Aye.  Aye, I am here looking for new trade,” James smiles to say.
     Capt. Baines compliments Max on his cigars, the tobacco.  “Comes from the north of the island.”  Theodore has come back out and joins in, “We’ve had a contract with the growers for many years now.  We ship it all over the world.  We used to charge them an especially low freight rate in order to avoid competition.”
     “Used to?  You mean you’ve had to increase your rates?” James inquires.  “I’m afraid so,” Theodore admits reluctantly.  “Since losing the case over the collision, and then finding ourselves faced with the enormous costs of it, and losing 2 of our larger ships . . .” Theordore breaks off.  “Can I . . . Can I suggest, that is . . . May I offer you the use of our carriage tomorrow . . . that you may look at the places of interest?” Theodore proffers.  “Well that is very kind of you, Mr. Van Der Rheede,” Capt. Baines acknowledges.
     “Very kind.  We would be delighted to accept,” Margarita responds gladly.  “I could, if you wish, act as guide,” Theodore offers yet more hospitality.  
  
     That night in their ship’s cabin, Crabbe brings them a tray, as Margarita braids her hair.  “Poor Theodore,” she says, “He is just like a small boy.  Did he tell you about his mother and father?”  “No . . . No, he did not,” the berobed James stirs her beverage and hands it to her.  She goes on to tell, “When he was very young, they were both drowned here in this bay.  Wasn’t it kind of him to offer us the use of his carriage tomorrow?”
     “Um . . . I shan’t be coming.  I’ve, uh . . . I’ve made my excuses to Theodore before I left,” James lets her know.  “Oh, why didn’t you tell me?”  “Well I thought you mightn’t want to go if I weren’t goin’.”  “Well of course I wouldn’t want to go.”  “Well there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.  Here.  You’ll enjoy the sights and Baines’ll be with you.”  “Why aren’t you coming?”  “I’ve got some business to attend to.”
     “Are you seeing the tobacco growers?” she asks accusingly.  “Yes,” he admits.  “James . . . Max and Theodore are both being so kind to us,” she objects.  “Kind . . . Cunning maybe,” he amends.  “Cunning?”  “The only reason Max was entertaining us was to find out what I was up to,” James explains the way the business world works.
     “He did say he’d heard from his agent in Liverpool,” she remembers.  “Aye, who told him, no doubt, that when the ship sailed, the owner was aboard,” James tells her.  “He knows about Isabel visiting the injured seamen from his ship [a shrewd move on her part].  And he was anxious to know how long we’d be staying here.”  How much easier to get that answered by the wife, couched in caring about her purely personal interests.
     “If Max could solve his financial problems by sinking me, he wouldn’t hesitate, either,” James reiterates what Max essentially admitted himself.
     “I see.  And so tomorrow, while Capt. Baines and I are being shown around the island in his carriage, you will be bidding for their tobacco contract,” she doesn’t seem to like the way it works.  “Look, Margarita, I reckon Max and I have had the same ups and downs.  Ya sink us today, we pop up again tomorrow.”  “I know,” she tells him, and they kiss.  “But it’s not Max I’m concerned for.  It’s Theodore.”

     Young Tom comes to Capt. Baines below deck, “Aside from that letter, there’s nothin’ to report, Cap’n.”  He hands Baines the letter, who opens it right away.  “Here, did ya ‘ave a good day at the Dutchie’s ‘ouse?” Tom asks in his typical irreverent way.  “Mr. van der Rheede,” Capt. Baines corrects him, “And 2 nicer gentlemen you couldn’t meet.  One of them ‘as promised to show us places of interest tomorrow.”  
     Capt. Baines pulls out a chair to sit.  Tom asks if it’s good news.  “Aye, could be.  Next quarter day . . . Now let’s see . . . A week to unload, then I need a fast passage home.  Eleven weeks.  Now do y . . .” Capt. Baines stops, as Tom is looking over his shoulder to read the letter, which Baines turns over and gives a look to Tom.  “Ya think we could do it in 11 weeks, Tom? . . . We might, with the help of the Tiger’s rope’s end.  Depends on this new trade that Mr. Onedin’s startin’ up.  Now ‘e never told me anything about it.”  Capt. Baines continues his mental calculations, “How long’s it gonna take now?  That’s the question.”

     Next day James paces van der Rheede’s veranda.  The very man comes out and greets him.  “Ah, van der Rheede, I called at your office, but you had left.”  “What was it you wanted?” Max asks.  “I came because I thought it only right and proper to tell you that I had a meeting with the tobacco growers this morning . . . and I undercut your rate by 2 shillings a ton.”
     “And they told you that they would consider your offer,” Max chuckles, “Did you really expect them to cast aside so many years of a trusting relationship with an old established firm to take their chance with a total stranger, uh?  And for what?  Just for the sake of a few shillings?”
     “Why ask me?  You were there this afternoon, and had to undercut my rate by another 6 pence a ton,” James is fully informed.  “If it’s a rate-cutting war you want, Onedin, we can give you one.”  “Your company’s in no position to risk carrying that tobacco at a loss,” James poses.  “Neither is yours,” Max poses James position.  “I know all about your company’s debts, Onedin.  So don’t try to bluff me.  It won’t work.”  The chess game is in deadly earnest, and not friendly.
     Theodore comes running out, “Max . . . Oh, good evening,” he notices James, and hides the paper he’s brought to show his brother behind his back.  “I have just taken Mrs. Onedin and Capt. Baines back to your ship.”  “Thank you, Theodore,” James tells him.  
     Theodore leans over to tell Max quietly, “I met one of the growers . . . just half an hour ago.”  He hands Max the paper.  “A contract for our tobacco . . . How much of it have you taken?” Max growls.  “Oh, I have left you some,” James says.  “And how much are you carrying it for?”  “Same rate as you.  Seventy-eight and six pence a ton.”  “If you didn’t undercut me, how did you get this contract?” Max asks angrily.
     “It seems that most of the growers are short of field workers,” James tells him what he’s learned.  “Oh? And what have you promised them?”  “I promised them all the field workers that they needed.  From Singapore.  You see, I take their tobacco to Singapore, where I store it in my warehouses in readiness for my steamers to carry it to England.  And then I carry the field workers on the return trip,” James is self-satisfied at his arrangements. 
     “Free of charge?”  “Aye.”  “You fool.  You’ll be ruined.”  “Oh, I don’t think so.  They will earn their passage.  You see, before they sail, they help me unload the tobacco in Singapore, and then, on the return trip, once in Sumatra, they help me load my next cargo,” James is unconcerned about bragging to his competitor, who crumples the contract and turns away.  James bids Max and Theodore goodbye.
     “Damn the growers.  The mean, grasping . . .”  Suddenly Max turns to Theodore, “We’ll send our ships down to Java ports.  Onedin won’t be able to undercut us there, his ships can’t get in and out of those ports.  They’re under Dutch control.”
     Back in Liverpool James had left Elizabeth to work out the financing of their new venture in the East Indies.  She had gone to Samuel for £20,000 funding (to include 2 hulk ships to sit in Singapore merely as warehousing), and he wanted a percentage of the ownership of the new company.  She finally allowed him 20%, and she and James would each own 20%.   Once the new company was registered,  Elizabeth in her office explains to Samuel (Dunwoody and Dawkins behind him), “You see, the new company is called The Rotterdam-Onedin Company, and that other 40% is owned by Dutch investors.  “Uncle James, cunning devil,” Samuel admires.

     Tom sees through a telescope a ship with an Onedin flag, “That’s one of our ships,” he says to James, bewildered.  “First of the feeder ships from Liverpool,” James tells him.  “She’s flyin’ the Dutch flag,” Tom is still bewildered.  “That’s right.  Just registered with our new company.  Aye, that flag allows us to compete equally with the Dutch in the Java ports.  There’ll be a 2nd feeders ship here in a week or two,” James informs the boy with a smile.
     “When are we leaving for Liverpool, that’s what I’d like to know,” Baines comes up to James with.  “In a day or two.  Mrs. Onedin and meself are having a little holiday,” James answers him.  “Doesn’t look as if you’re going to be in Liverpool for your, uh, whatever it is, Captain,” Tom comes up to Baines with.  “I’ll soon see to that!” Baines turns and walks with a purpose.  
     Baines walks over to Tiger, “Can’t wait to be sailing, eh, bosun?”  “No sir.  Reckon I can’t,” Bosun Tiger replies.  “When we do sail, I want you to drive this crew like no crew have ever been driven before.  Now do you understand?”  “Aye-aye, Captain.”  Baines walks away with a “Right.” And Tiger looks aloft at Avery and Kettle looking down on him.

     Max pounds the veranda table with a contract on it.  “Damn the man.  He undercuts us in every port,” he growls to Theodore.  “Every cargo we tender for, he just happens to edge us out.”  “Obviously.  We are both chasing the most lucrative cargos,” Theodore returns.  “Oh, the man is bent on our ruin.  What have you got there?” Max asks his brother.
     “I spent the afternoon bringing the accounts up to date.  Our costs have risen rather more alarmingly than I’d anticipated,” Theodore pages through the books to show.  Max gets up and angrily knocks the books away, “Damn Onedin, and damn you, too.  I don’t need your figures to tell me what he’s doing to us.  If you came to me with some answer to the plunderer, some glimmer of an idea how we could put a stop to his schemes, but you . . . you come to me with figures.  Just like you used to come to me with Father, remember?  No.  I don’t’ suppose you do.  You were too young.”
     “’Look, Father, I can write from one to ten.  How clever I am.’  Oh yes, you’ve always been very clever with figures, haven’t you?  I built up this company, and you sat in the office and counted the profits.  And now when misfortune strikes, and him, damn him, Onedin, all you can do is sit there and count our losses.  You are a dead weight round my neck, Theodore, and you always have been!”  Whether this is the first time Max has so attacked his brother we don’t know.  But Theodore sits taking the verbal blows in silence.  
     “I hate this place.  This island.  This house.  Everything I see here.  Everything I remember having seen since I was a boy.  I think that I’ve always hated it all,” Max soliquizes as he paces the veranda in the dark.  “Why have I stayed here all my life?”  He reaches a turning point, pointing in the air toward his brother, “Onedin has done us a good turn, do you realize that?” Max strides quickly back to his brother still sitting quietly at the table where not long before there was laughing.  “He’s not driving us out.  He’s releasing us.”
     “What are you saying?” Theodore asks meekly.  Max grabs his shoulder, “We have got to leave this place.  Make a fresh start.  There is no other answer,” Max at last has enthusiasm for the future.  Theodore rises slowly, “Leave this house?”  “Well, what would you have us do?  Continue to count our losses until there’s nothing left?  No!” Max slams down an account book.  “We’ll get out while we still can.  We’ll sell this house, and the office, and the warehouses, and however many ships it takes to cover our losses, and then, God help us, we’ll spend our remaining years in some . . . some civilized part of the world.”  Max turns as if to say something more to Theodore, but then goes into the house.
     Theodore stands unable to move.  But he hears the waves, the sounds that have surrounded, cradled him from his birth.  He takes off, then replaces his glasses as frogs croak loudly.  “Leave?” he says quietly.  He walks slowly, stiffly at first, but then goes on with more animation as the camera returns to the company books he has left on the table.  Max calls for him to bring them in so they can start making plans.  

     “A good wind comin’ up.  Let’s take full advantage of it,” Baines says to Tom next to him, then yells, “Mister Bosun!  All hands to crowd on sail!”  The bosun is heard, “Come on, you swabs, wake up below.  There’s work to be done.”
     James walks over,  “Capt. Baines, Tyrell’s driving them a bit hard this trip, isn’t he?”  “That’s my business,” Baines says without compunction.  Tiger Tyrell repeats his orders with the shake of his rope, calling to the men below.
     “Curse the devil, I was just drifing off nicely,” Avery says to his shipmates on their bunks.  A seaman sporting bloody evidence of the bosun’s means, says, “If he raises that rope’s end to me just once more, I’m off to see the old man.”  That’ll do ya no good,” Kettle rises to say, “It was the old man who signed him on.”  He also has bruises.  “To keep you from standing up for his rights,” Kettle says to Avery.  “Fat lot of standin’ up you’ve done for us this trip.”
     Tiger yells down again from above, “All hands, I said.  Are you deaf down there?”
     “One more beating for any one of us, and we do what I says we do,” Kettle says.  He’s the last one to come up from below.  Bosun says, “Kettle.  When I call for all hands, I wantcha to come running, not crawling.”  When Kettle emerges, Tiger knocks him down with his rope.  
     Margarita comes up from her place below, sees Kettle laid out on the deck.  She goes to James.
     “It’s none of my business.  It’s up to the Master to interfere if he thinks his bosun is driving the crew too hard,” James tells her (despite what he’d said to Baines; like Baines, he keeps those conversations between themselves).  “But James you are the owner of the ship.”  Certainly he has interfered with Capt. Baines’ running of his ships over the years, but perhaps less so as time has gone on.  
     “I might be considered to be your owner,” he teases her.  “My owner?” she asks, “Because you married me?”  “I can say you’re mine,” he shrugs.  “Just as I can say Capt. Baines is one of my captains.  But he has the right to make his own decisions, just as you have the right to make yours.”  James has really mellowed.  Maybe in part from Margarita’s influence.
     “Yes.  I do see.  You must not interfere,” she turns away.  

     Back down in crew’s quarters, Kettle speaks to Avery, “I’ll ask you again, Jack Avery, are you with us in this?”  “No.  I am not a man for violence,” Avery answers.  “An owners’ man, eh?” Kettle tries to pique him, “Ever since his new wife spoke up for you.”  “What does that mean?” Avery challenges Kettle.  “If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be sailing with us.  Curse her,” the other sailor adds his bile.  
     “Aye, a peculiar one, that ain’t it?” Kettle comments to that sailor, “Strong union man, here by invitation of the owner’s wife.”  “Aye, and us having to suffer for it with broken bodies.  And you, Jack Avery, not even willing to help us in the remedy.”  “It is no remedy, that’s why,” says Jack, with his own set of bruises.  
     “Oh yes, but it will be,” Kettle hastens over to say, “’cause we’ll beat him so hard, he’ll not dare raise a hand to any one of us again.”
     Tiger shouts again from above, “All hands on deck!  All hands on deck!”  
     “Remember what I said, we all go for him together,” Kettle reminds them.  He turns to Avery to say, “And if you want no part of this, Jack Avery, you best hide yourself away in a corner, like all the other ship’s rats.”
     When the hands don’t rush up to the deck, Tiger comes down, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere?  I called for all ‘ands.”
     “Aye, and it’s all ‘ands you’re gonna to get, Tiger,” Kettle tells him.  Two of the sailors sit down on their bunks.  “What’s the matter with you two?!” Kettle challenges them.  “All together, I said, didn’t I?
     “All together for what, Kettle,” Tiger asks.  
     “For this!” Kettle strikes Tiger full force.  But Tiger has hit him in the windpipe, and as he struggles to breathe, he strikes him with the rope.
     “So, it’s inspiring a mutiny is it, eh, Kettle?  Well, you know me.  I’m not one for tales to the Captain.  I’ll deal with you myself.”  He raises the rope to beat the man.  But suddenly Avery kicks Tiger in the gut, and follows with a double handed strike.  Kettle thanks Jack while one of the other sailors check on the big man fallen.  “Hey, Kettle, I think he’s dead.”  Kettle runs over and confirms it.  
     What made Avery finally act against the bosun?  Was it Kettle’s words?  The combination of those and the other seaman’s?  Was it trying to prevent Tiger from literally beating Kettle to death?  Did it bring back the memories of his father beating his mother?  We can only surmise/speculate.
     “What’ll happen now,” asks the sailor.  “You let us down this time, Crabby,” Kettle tells the sailor, “And you go over the side the next dark night.  We say nothing.  Whatever questions is asked, there’ll be not one word from any one of us.”  Kettle walks over to Avery who is in shock, “And this time, Jack Avery, I know you’ll want to be with us.”

     James confronts the sailors, “I’ll ask you again.  What happened?”  All four crewmen stand straight and silent.  James turns to Baines, “Right.  It’s your responsibility.  Right.  You deal with it.”  James walks up the steps.  He wasn’t pleased with Baines for hiring on Tiger, and leaves it to him to sort it.  James has suffered such a bully himself (S1 E8).  While James has always valued Baines’ ability to get the most out of a crew, he hasn’t condoned such cruelty or violence (S3 E7).
     “A vow of silence to protect Mr. Tyrell’s murderer.  Shipmates to the very end, eh?  Well, I’ll tell you this much.  The judge in court will be on your side.  He’ll ‘elp you to an eternity of silence.  ‘Cause he’ll ‘ave no options but to ‘ang the lot o’ ya,” Capt. Baines yells at them.  He walks over to Avery, “Jack Avery.  You’re the one, eh?  I mean you’re the one who thought up this vow of silence.  It’s your sort o’ caper.  The question is, now, which one of these others would you be protecting?  Not Crabbe,” Baines walks around behind the line of men.  “I doubt your own mother would trouble to protect you, would she, Crabbe?” 
     “You, Larsen?  Nah.  You’d lap up all the punishment Tiger could give ya without a murmur of protest.  Right, then.  Kettle.  Now suppose you tell me just ‘ow it ‘appened.”  “The pig is dead,” Kettle dares to say, “Soon he’ll be in his rightful place.  Sewn in canvas, and joinin’ all the good seamen he sent to their salty graves.”
     “Oh, bold words to break a vow with.  And just too bold for a man with the guilt of murder on his conscience.  Crabbe, Larsen, take Jack Avery below and put ‘im in irons,” Capt. Baines orders.

     “I’ve never heard of such injustice,” Margarita tells her husband with animation.  “How could he possibly know the man was guilty?”
     “He doesn’t know,” James says plainly.  “Doesn’t know?  And yet he locks him up?  And when we get back to England, he will be tried, and very possibly hung.  And you . . . you must not interfere!”
     “Margarita . . .”  “Don’t say it!  If I had not interfered when Capt. Baines was signing on his crew, Jack Avery would not be sailing with us.”
     “Here . . .” James comes over to put his arm around her.  “It’s true.  If that man is hung, it will be my fault,” Margarita bemoans having naively meddled in ship’s business.

     The ship comes into Liverpool port, moves slowly past a large building with the name James ONEDIN—Warehousing Company upon it.  
     Capt. Baines speaks stoutly, “The Tiger’s wife and children.  Whether he treated them like he treated his crews at sea, the Devil only knows.  But one thing I do know, the good Lord above won’t provide for ‘is family now ‘e’s gone.  And I’m charging you with that task, Jack Avery.”  He hands Avery a note with their whereabout.
     “Me?” Avery questions.  “Yeah.  I’ve spoken to Kettle and the others.  They share your guilt, and they’re gonna share in providing for that woman and her children.  It’ll give you as a union man the chance to put your organizing ability to some useful purpose.  You’ll arrange to collect the money and deliver it at regular intervals.”  One can only hope that the others don’t eventually leave him alone holding the bag.
     “But Captain, I’m under arrest.  I don’t see how I can . . .”
     “No doubt she’ll be on the quay along with the other wives, and when yer passin’, you can break the bad news to ‘er.”  Capt. Baines hands him Tiger’s effects.  “Tell ‘er there was no pain.  All over sudden-like.  He fell from the top mast.”
     Avery is much affected as he murmurs, “Thank you, Captain.”  This arrangement Capt. Baines has come up with seems a tacit recognition of Baines’ own conscience’ tug over the cause of Tiger’s death, even if he doesn’t admit it out loud, and even if Avery and the others never recognize it.  He has not allowed the man or men to have to stand before a court of law for what happened.
     Capt. Baines dismisses the man, and turns, face to with face Margarita coming into the room.  “Forgive me, Captain, I should not have been listening.”  But we don’t expect she’ll do differently.
     “’scuse me, ma’am, I have some business ashore,” he turns to leave.  She gives him pause as she calls to him, “Capt. Baines . . . I think you are a man who understands the real meaning of justice.  I doubted your judgement.  What a fool I was.  Can you forgive me?”
     “Mrs. Onedin, I hope you’ll forgive me, that it wasn’t a pleasanter voyage for a honeymoon.  Goodbye, ma’am.”  And that’s as close as he gets to a tacit admission of his guilt in the matter, no matter that she doesn’t recognize it as such.  
     We have seen through the years that Baines does have a conscience, has at various times acted as James’ conscience.  He has seen the way James has resolved matters of Justice aboard his ships.  Not every master or owner would be as just as either James or Baines.  Their form of justice is meted out through their own judgement of the balance between right and wrong, which depends upon their own characters.  They are no Javerts (from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables , 1862).

     Elizabeth comes in a coach to meet James and Margarita as they step off the ship.  “Margarita, James, how nice to see you both again,” she greets them warmly.
     “We are glad to see you again, Isabel,” Margarite greets her.  “You’re looking very well, Elizabeth,” James compliments his sister.  “Aye, and so I should.  Due to a little windfall, I’ve arranged a small celebration dinner for us all this evening,” Elizabeth tells Margarita as they walk along.  “. . . to welcome you home.  Welcome home, Margarita,” Elizabeth reaches over and kisses her new sister-in-law, and Margarita returns the kiss.  Elizabeth smiles prettily.
     “By the way,” Elizabeth turns to add, as she opens the door to the coach, “we have a surprise guest for dinner.” 

     As James in tails comes into the celebration, Margarita greets, “Isabel, how beautiful you look.”  Elizabeth thanks her and they exchange kisses.  “James,” Elizabeth bids him, and they turn to see Max seated there before them.  “Max,” Margarita says, “Margarita,” Max stands to say, “Onedin,” Max turns to James.
     “Van der Reheede, what brings you to England?” James extends a hand.  Max shakes it, but does James notice the unpleasant look on Max’s face?  Does he see it merely as part of the chess game of trade they are involved in? 
      Elizabeth explains to Margarita, “Max is in the process of selling up in Sumatra.  I’ve found him a house, now he’s looking for an office.”  For what other competitor has or would Elizabeth do such?  Is she compensating for guilt in the ruin of Max’s company, feels in such a safe/superior position she can afford to be magnanimous, or simply playing out an ironic part in the writer’s plot?  Certainly the parallels are ripe between her hospitality and Max’s.
     “Ah.  So, how long have you been in Liverpool, eh?” James asks.  “Five days,” comes the quick answer.  “Thinking of starting a business here?”  “With the kind assistance of your sister.  She has made me most welcome.”
     “What about Theodore?” Margarita asks.  “He came with you, of course?”
     “No.  Theodore did not come with me.”  “Max’s brother,” Margarita explains.  “You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” Elizabeth mentions.  “No.  I didn’t.  It was very distressing, and I saw no reason to tell you of it.  I thought you [James] would have heard before you left for Java, but obviously you didn’t . . . My brother died.”
     “I don’t know what to say,” Margarita says, and she is not alone in that.  “He was such a fine man . . . What happened?  How did . . . “
     “He drowned himself in the bay,” Max interrupts to say simply.     

S8 E5--Margarita is left in Liverpool while James sails to Africa 
     James is preparing for a voyage to the Niger River of West Africa.  He tells Margarita, sitting in bed sipping from a cup, “Only be gone a couple a months.”  She tells him, “In my country, a wife’s place is with her husband.”  “Ah, but not this trip,” James says while he dresses, “It’s the Fever Coast.  It’s no place for a woman,” he tries to gently placate her.
     “Oh James, I want to come with you,” she pleads as she gets out of bed, “A quick trip to Sierra Leone, you said, and then home.  If I stayed onboard there would be no danger.”  “Ah, well, we’re goin’ up the River Niger now.  Civilize a bunch of bloodthirsty heathens . . . We’re gonna set up a trading post.  Palm oil, ivory . . . “
     “Not tobacco . . .” “Margarita, let’s not hear any more about Max van der Rheede, or ‘is brother,” James tells her, to which she answers, looking down, “Dead brother.”
     “Hey . . . this is no mood for a parting,” he comes to sit on the bed by her.  “Then take me with you!” she pleads again.
     “I wantcha here—safe, ‘ealthy.  Look, explore Liverpool,  It is your home now.  Interest yourself in the office.  Get Elizabeth to show you around,” he suggests.  “Oh, Isabel . . . She is even more cold and strange to me than Liverpool,” it seems Elizabeth has retreated from her warmth when James and Margarita returned from the East Indies.
     “She’ll melt soon enough in your sunshine,” he kisses her cheekbone with a smile and starts to get up, but she makes him pause, “James, if I am to stay, then you say goodbye properly.”
     “Look, I’ve got a hundred things to clear up in the office, and I’m late for the tide as it is,” he tries to convince her, as he has done with his other wives, especially Letty.  “The tide can wait,” Margarita says as she lays back and that’s all the enticement he needs.

     Capt. Baines is awaiting James aboard ship, looking at his watch.  He tells Tom the apprentice, “You know I’ve never known ‘im lose a tide before.  He was due on board an hour ago.”  Capt. Baines and Tom then talk a bit about the “Sea Spray” they have gone into shares to buy (Tom with 6/64 share).
     James comes walking up, “Spoken for a tug yet, Capt. Baines?”
     “Oh, we ‘ave plenty of time, sir . . . we missed the tide, you see.  We’ve gotta wait ‘til tonight,” Capt. Baines informs him.  “Shame . . .”  James looks up, “Pity to waste a good easterly wind . . . well . . .”
     “Well, for one thing, it’s a Friday,” Capt. Baines (who has previously told James he isn’t superstitious, but that’s not always what he says to others.  James laughs.  “Oh, Jonah’s luck, eh?”  He starts to cheerily sing a shanty, “We’ll stay in the harbor and look o’er the foam . . .”  Tom pitches in, “’Cause Friday’s the day the Devil doth own . . .”  James laughs again.
     “You know, happen you was an owner, Capt. Baines, you couldn’t afford to be so superstitious,” James walks away jauntily, not knowing that Capt. Baines has become an owner, of the very ship James had asked his sister Elizabeth to bid on for him (she and Dunwoody incorrectly surmised that Baines was bidding for James).
     “I’m not superstitious.  I don’t believe in askin’ for trouble, that’s all,” Baines claims, and James whistles the tune he’d just been singing.
     Van der Rheede begins pursuing his revenge on James while James is off to Africa.  James moves in on his nephew Samuel’s plans to establish a trading station up the Niger River.  He’s to take Reverend Stoner up river with him to the Methodist mission, possible site for the trading post.  James is determined to bypass the powerful local witchdoctor and get a load of ivory out.  Samuel trades James’ debt to van der Rheede.  The plots thicken, twist, & tangle.

     Meanwhile, Margarita rides in a carriage down to Paradise St, intending to explore Liverpool, as James had suggested.  It’s not the best part of town.  A thunderstorm catches her.  Seeking shelter down the steps of an alley, she sees a poor little girl and takes pity on her.  But then she’s attacked by a ruffian, who steals from her, takes the little girl and goes on the run.
     Dunwoody in his rain gear reports back to Elizabeth in her office, “No sign of ‘er, Milady.”  Elizabeth fusses, “She arranged to come and see the office, take tea, and interest herself in the business [James & Elizabeth are now working together].  As if I hadn’t got enough on my hands.”
     “Perhaps I should telephone to the house,” Dunwoody suggests.  “Yes,” Elizabeth agrees, then decides that she’ll telephone while Dunwoody continues to look for Margarita.
     Elizabeth lifts the phone, “Hello, are you there?  Netherton 8-2, please . . . Hello, Mrs. Gibson?  Is Mrs. Onedin still there? . . . The groom came back but  . . . dropped ‘er where?  Dear God.  Has the man taken leave of his senses? . . . . Well, yes, I daresay she did, Mrs. Gibson.  Well now you can just tell him to take the carriage straight back there and look for her!”
     But Dunwoody comes back in the office with Margarita behind, “Mrs. Onedin, we were really quite concerned about you . . . outside in such atrocious weather.  Come through here, please.”
     Elizabeth tells Mrs. Gibson, “It’s alright, she’s just arrived,” but then adds, “Gracious, you’d better tell him to bring the carriage straight here, Mrs. Gibson, post-haste.”
     Dunwoody pulls an office chair over for Margarita, “Sit here by the fire, Mrs. Onedin.”  Elizabeth is critical, “Fancy sending the carriage off home when it was obvious there was a storm in the offing.  Whatever can have possessed you, Margarita?”
     “James said I should get to know Liverpool,” Margarita is clearly fatigued and unwell.  “Yes, well not like this.  You’ll get yourself down with a fever, my girl, and James will never forgive us.  Not after the loss of poor dear Letty.”  And that may be the clue as to why Elizabeth has difficulty accepting Margarita.  Letty was her beloved friend.
     Elizabeth walks about the office, “Well, you’d better take those wet boots off.”  As Margarita touches a black-gloved hand to her brow, Dunwoody reacts with alacrity, “Allow me.”  But as he reaches down to take off her boots, Elizabeth gets after him, “Mr. Dunwoody!  Kindly fetch us some tea, Dunwoody, hot and strong.”  He leaves saying, “Very good my lady.”
     Elizabeth lets out a sigh, and goes to take off Margarita’s boots herself, none too gently, muttering, “Said to see Liverpool, did he?  He did not mean the docks, the slums . . . nor Paradise Street.  Mrs. Gibson told me just now on the telephone, though how in heaven’s name that groom of yours was so witless as to leave you in a place like that.”
     “That is more Liverpool than . . . than the parks and the museums,” Margarita says, though one wonders if she would choose similar places to visit in her own country.
     “Those people, the vile slums they live in, the unemployment, people starving and begging . . . “  This sounds less like a woman brought up as she was, than the writers’ ideas.
     “If you wish to concern yourself with the needy . . . instead of trapsing the slums, you could involve yourself in the orphanage that Letty founded,” Elizabeth says harshly.
     “Letty, Letty, Letty!” Margarita cries out, similar to Letty’s own cry about her predecessor, Anne.
     “Yes, Letty.  You’ve a great deal to live up to, Margarita!  A great deal.  And you could make a start by . . .” Elizabeth stops as she finds blood on her fingertips from the back of Margarita’s head.  “My dear, what happened?  Whatever happened?”  Instead of answering, Margarita falls to the side into Elizabeth’s arms.
     “Dunwoody!” Elizabeth calls to her right-hand man.  “Dunwoody! . . . Margarita?”

     Elizabeth puts Margarita to bed gently, “It’s all right.  Dr. Porton will be here soon.”  Margarita reaches for her Rosary, and Elizabeth hands it to her.  “Forgive me,” Margarita begs of Elizabeth, who responds, “Just you get better, and I’ll forgive anything.”
     Margarita becomes delirious, calling for “James . . . James!”  Elizabeth, sitting in her room by the fire, awakens suddenly at Margarita’s cries.  “¿Donde estás?  Disculpame.  Te quiero.  Ayudame . . .”  (Where are you?  Forgive me.  I love you.  Help me . . .).  Elizabeth comes quickly to wipe her brow and hush her cares.  “Perdón.”  (Forgive me).  Elizabeth continues her tender care.  

     And out in Africa, James has won his game against the witchdoctor, got a treasure of ivory, plans to sell the trading post to Samuel (now the ivory’s been taken), suggested the missionary become the manager in order to pay for bringing Bibles, schoolbooks, etc. upriver . . . Baines has had enough of James’ self-serving hypocrisy (though James had told his sister-in-law Sarah that the one thing he wasn't was a hypocrite), and Baines walks out on James, determined to walk/sail his own path.

S8 E6--Capt. Baines, Tom, and the “Sea Spray”; Charlotte’s career, Samuel’s new bride . . .
     Back in Liverpool from Africa, James watches the quay for Margarita.  Tom is torn between the two men he admires, his 2 sponsors for his apprenticeship.  “Still ain’t too late, master,” he says to Capt. Baines.  “No?  Had the whole voyage home to make amends,” Capt. Baines says to Tom.  “Well it does take two, sir,” Tom reminds him.  Has anyone ever mentioned to him about their last falling out?  (S4 E10, S5 E1)
     James brings his case over and asks Tom, “Seen Mrs. Onedin?”  “No sign of ‘er, sir,” Tom answers.  “Well, off and find me a cab then, eh?”  He gives Tom his case to take.  “Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to finish off here, then, eh?” James says to Baines.
     “Right,” Baines answers with a monosyllable.  “I’ll get Dawkins to pay you your dues . . . It’s been a long time,” James says.  “Too long, maybe,” Baines answers.  “Maybe so,” James concurs.  “Good luck with that brig of yours,” James offers Baines his hand, and the tacit acceptance of Baines’ having got the “Sea Spray” he had wanted at auction, the one he had exploded over before.  
     “Good wishes to Mrs. Onedin,” Capt. Baines shakes James’ proffered hand.

     James comes into his house calling, “Margarita . . . Margarita! . . . Ah, Mrs. Gibson.  Mistress about?”  Mrs. Gibson comes running into the parlor, “Oh, sir . . . Abed, Mr. Onedin . . . Ailing.”  James runs in a panic, yelling, “Oh, Margarita!”  Easy to guess what thoughts and memories would come to him.
     He comes into the bedroom where she lays asleep propped up on pillows, calling her name softly.  He walks over to her on the bed, “Margarita?” he speaks almost in a whisper.  He sits on the edge of the bed, and she wakens, “James . . . it is alright.”  
     “Like hell it is,” he shudders.  “No danger, not now, James.”  But he’s so upset as he looks at her, “You’ve nigh wasted away to nowt.”  “But mending.  You may ask Dr. Porton,” she assures him.  He kisses her hands, saying, “Oh, that old saw-bones.”  His breathing is rough.
     “He is most pleased with me.  No more fever, my chest more easy.  A few more days, he says, and I may get up from this wretched bed.”  He keeps looking her over, but at last is able to smile.  He laughs, “We’ll see about that.”  The worst patient a doctor could have prescribes more bedrest for his beloved.  
     “It is true,” she again asserts, but begins to cough.  “Easy, lass.  Easy,” he moves even yet closer.  “’Tis nothing.  The final remains of the pulmonia,” she tells him, and he gently corrects her, “Pneumonia.”
     “My first trip away, and this happens,” he laments.  “’Twas your Liverpool.  Wet and cold.  If you had taken me to Africa as I asked . . . Next trip I come with you, yes?”  “No.  I’ll come with you.  We’ll go to the sun.  Make you well again.”

     James walks into the office he and Elizabeth and their chief clerks share.  Dawkins asks, “A successful trip, sir?”  “Aye.  Handsome cargo of ivory, Dawkins.”  He hands Dawkins the paperwork.
     “Mrs. Onedin, sir?” Dunwoody asks.  “Oh, seems to be on the mend, thank you, Dunwoody.”  James doesn’t divulge his true cares.
     “Most alarming to have her taken ill like that right here in the office,” Dunwoody offers, “Mark you, small wonder, outside in such atrocious weather.”
     “Madam is used to a more moderate climate,” Dawkins adds.  “Well, I’m, uh, sure that Mrs. Onedin will have learned from it, sir, if only to the extent of taking a cab instead of walking around such places.”  Thus Dunwoody entices James to want to know more, and to know that he knows more than Dawkins (his rival).
     “Now what places?” James wants to know.  “The docks and Chinatown, even, uh, Paradise Street,” Dunwoody seeks shock appeal.
     “Well, getting to know Liverpool, I dare say, eh?” James downplays it in front of the clerks.  

     The agents for a time charter specifically asked for Capt. Baines.  James, looking at the contract, says, “Don’t like this liability for damage to casks.  Cheeky is that.  That were my game when I started, you know,” James laughs.  
     But, James must explain, “Baines is no longer with this line.  Captain Baines has ambitions.  Bought himself a rotten old trader.  Setting up in rivalry.”
     “I see,” Dawkins nods with animation.  “Do you, b’heck?  Wish I did,” James responds, then asks what other captains are free, and Dawkins tells him none have sufficient seniority to handle it.  James is ready to decline the contract, but Dawkins suggests he could captain the ship they have just returned on.
     “Of course you must go, James,” Margarita says from her sick bed, still of pale complexion.  “You cannot stop being a captain just because I am down with pneumonia.”
     “Down near the ground with it you were,” he says with his mouthful, as he eats there on her bed.  A few typical married people words pass, and he picks up a spoonful of food for her.  “I can feed myself,” she objects.  “Except you’re not,” he charges.  “It’s awful,” she complains about the food.  So he tries a spoonful.  “It’s lovely,” he pronounces.  
     “Look, at home if we were ill, always we had a mixture of papaya and herbs,” she tells him.  “Yes, well here we believe in strength through suffering.  Come on.  Look, if I’m prepared to swallow the anchor [stay on land], you must be prepared to swallow this calf’s foot jelly.”  “Oh James . . .”  “Come on,  Umm hmm.  Can’t trust ya, can I?  Wonder all you got was pneumonia.”  The tone of this argument is so different than those with Letty (at least later in their marriage).  Much gentler, with much more good humor.
     “You told me to get to know Liverpool,” Margarita tosses the ball in his court.  “Yeah, but I didn’t tell ya to go trapsing round the city on your own. Through the docklands and whoretown, and the yards . . . now did I?”
     She chuckles softly, “Continue to love me, James Onedin, and nothing can harm me.”  “That’s all right, then, I’nit?” he smiles at her and takes a drink from a goblet.  
     “Are there really no other captains for the whiskey cargo?” she asks.  “Ah, none senior enough that’ll be back in time,” he wipes his mouth with a napkin.  “Then, why not let Capt. Baines have it?  As a parting gift . . . for an old friend?”

     “We shall miss you, Capt. Baines,” Dawkins says as he pays him off, including profits from his shares in the “Christian Radich”.  “And now, master of a fine trader as well, I hear.”  “Aye, 160 tons,” Baines describes his ship.  “Caused quite a stir at the Exchange,” Dawkins notes.  
     Capt. Baines notices a pile of charts and recognizes some as ones that are his.  He begins to go through them.
     “Had an agent after your services only yesterday, in fact, sir.  For a year’s whiskey charter . . . regrettably, Mr. Onedin might be obliged to let it slip.  And you know these young agents like Horace Peters.  Hurry, hurry, all the time.”  Thus Dawkins sets up the pass along of the contract without making it sound like charity or a gift.  
     Capt. Baines takes a peek at the contract, and suddenly leaves, promising to send for the charts later.  “Just off to the Exchange, Mr. Baines?”  Dawkins asks, without needing to.
     “Well, like they always say, a shipowner never rests,” Baines says on his way out.  Dawkins chuckles.

     “The moment Dr. Parton allows me out, I plan to visit Charlotte,” Margarita tells James while still abed.  “Her place to visit you, not tother way around,” James tells her from his chair, “You’ve written to ‘er twice.  Now she could find the grace to reply.  
     Mrs. Gibson comes in and sees James smoking his cigar next to the open window, and gets after him, “Mr. Onedin . . .”  James fans the smoke a bit, hangs the cigar over the window sill, “Window’s open . . .”  “Letting in the night air!”  He gets up, “Well, it’s mild enough,” he argues.  “Madam’s chest so weak, and there you sit . . .” she reaches for the cigar, but he tosses it out the window, and closes it.  
     “Lady Fogarty’s downstairs.  I pointed out the hour and how Dr. Porton said for madam to rest,” the outraged servant continues her efforts to command obedience.
     “Well fetch ‘er up,” James tells the woman without effect.  He goes just outside the door and yells, “Elizabeth!”  “Rest and quiet!” Mrs. G stresses in a whisper.  
     “Just bring us up some Madeira, will you Mrs. Gibson?” James commands with a question as Elizabeth walks in, and dismisses her with “Thank you, Mrs. Gibson.”
     “James, good trip, I hear,” Elizabeth says and he kisses her in like friendliness.  “Well, I can’t deny that,” James is delighted to say.  Elizabeth strides right over to Margarita, “Oh, infuriating what a tonic they are . . . you men,” Elizabeth looks back at James to say.  “First spot of color in over a month,” Elizabeth touches Margarita’s face while holding her hand.  
     “I’ll be up in a day or two, doctor said,” Margarita tells her, to which James emphasizes with slowly pronounced, “May be.”
     “I’m sorry you can’t be all right for tomorrow,” Elizabeth condoles Margarita.  “Tomorrow?” James seeks more information.  “The launching, James,” his sister informs him.
     Mrs. Gibson comes in with a decanter and glassware, and Elizabeth isn’t shy to tell her, “Mr. Onedin’s morning suit out for an airing and a press, please.  He forgot the launching.”
     “The ‘William Frazer’?  Good luck, your ladyship,” Mrs. G says and exits.
     “Pity Daniel couldn’t be here,” James says rather pitilessly as he pours himself a drink.  “Just his style,” he adds.  “No Daniel, no Sarah, Samuel still in America.  Only you, James.  In good time, please, and on your very best behavior.”  “Always am,” he claims.  “Hmm,” she differs.
     “I want your support with my creditors,” Elizabeth says as she pours herself a drink.  “Unless, of course, you can help with some spare cash for a change.”  “Only wish I could,” he replies.
     “Oh?  A little birdie tells me you’re expecting a handy profit from your cargo of ivory,” Elizabeth seeks to elicit some of the spare cash.  “Aye.  But one thing your little birdie didn’t tell you is I’m buying a 3-masted barque.”

     But van der Rheede comes to call in James’ debt just as James is on his way with Elizabeth to the launching, so James misses that and has to use the money he intended to buy the barque to pay Max off.  Max wants to maximize the injury by gloating that he is going to use that money to buy that very barque.  He vows to James that he is going to ruin him, to which James responds that a certain witchdoctor in Africa made a similar claim.   Max blames James for his brother’s suicide because he ruined them.  As often happens, the guilty look for someone else to blame—Max doesn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he was actually the one that pushed his brother over the edge.
     James finds out that van der Rheeede took advantage and deceived his clerk Dawkins into telling all his financial affairs, and fires the clerk he never was happy with, for betrayal of trust.  Additionally, Dawkins had hinted to Capt. Baines that he could go for the whiskey contract, and he encouraged young Tom to enjoy his accumulated leave to sail with Capt. Baines.
     James finds out that Tom is going to sail with Baines, and has shares in the ship, and comes down hard on him for breach of his articles of apprenticeship.  Tom is so upset he lies (a skill he has used often) to Capt. Baines and says James was out of the office.  Eventually he admits the truth to Baines, who gets very angry at him for the breach of his apprenticeship articles.  He also comes down hard on the boy, tells him he’d better go back to James and beg on his knees for forgiveness, accept whatever consequences James imposes.  James is able to give the boy the experience and chances that Baines could not.
     Elizabeth tells James that Samuel is bringing home a bride from New York, due home on Sunday.  “Well I’ll be damned, and the [divorce] decree [against Charlotte] barely made final.”  “Yes, well, quick marriages seem to be favorite in this family [referring to James marrying Margarita, though he married Anne in even quicker order].  Elizabeth tells James that they have a duty to make Samuel’s bride welcome.  With Sarah away, Elizabeth expects that James should host a small reception at his home, so Maragrita doesn’t have to go out.  James is not only unhappy about the divorce, but Samuel having sold his debt to “that Dutchman”.  At last James agrees, “Aye, happen you’re right.  Well, the lad is family.  It’s not right feuding amongst your own kin.”  “I felt sure you’d see reason,” Elizabeth probably voices it with more conviction than she feels it.  James tells her, “I’m a most reasonable man.”  That can’t help but bring a smile to those watching.
 
     At last Margarita receives a letter from Aunt Mary about Charlotte.  For the last 2 months Charlotte has not been staying with Aunt Mary.  “She has an occupation, James.”  Margarita hands him the letter, and as he peruses it, he says unbelievingly, “She’s not in with this motley crew, is she?” he shows the show bill for the performers Charlotte has joined.
     “We’ll soon see about that . . .”

     Charlotte comes to see Elizabeth in a smart pale green outfit with a fluff of white feathers wrapped around her shoulders.  “I’ve been on tour, singing in Birmingham, Leicester, Leeds.  At the moment I’m in Manchester.  That’s how I was able to come across on the train today.  But I shall have to be back in time for the evening performance . . . I should have written to him.  I kept meaning to, but . . .now, you see, I’m booked to open here [at a music hall in Liverpool] next week.”  Elizabeth is loudly dumbfounded.  “Naturally, I don’t perform under my own name.  But should Father find out . . .Well, you know what he’s like.”  “Well for once I think I might be inclined to agree with him,” her Aunt Elizabeth says stoutly.
     Just then James bursts in the door of Elizabeth’s office to tell his sister what he’s learned about Charlotte, “You know what that damned girl of mine’s been up to?” he says before he sees Charlotte.  James explodes over the inappropriate occupation his daughter has taken up, but she is defiant, because she has done something on her own and succeeded at it.  Elizabeth switches sides and defends Charlotte.  Charlotte says she’ll bring tickets for the show on Sunday, “And then I can meet Margarita at last.”  “Best reserve a box.  Can’t have your father sitting amongst riff-raff,” Elizabeth teases.

     Sunday James, Margarita, and Elizabeth are decked out as finely as the silver service adorning the tables in James’ & Margarita’s parlor.  James fusses that Samuel is late.  Elizabeth assumes that Samuel’s new wife is the actress Helen he had fallen for the previous year, after Charlotte left him.  Margarita comments, “Helen, too, is an actress?  But how romantic.”  James says rather, “One actress in the family’s quite enough, thank you.”
     “But James, I’m sure Charlotte is a great success.”  Elizabeth is sure that Samuel would not allow Helen to continue her stage career.
     Mrs. Gibson announces, “Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Onedin.”  Samuel comes in with a sophisticated woman on his arm.  It’s not Helen the actress.  He introduces his wife Caroline, who bows to Lady Fogarty (Elizabeth invites her to more familiar terms).    Aunt Margarita kisses each cheek, “I pray that you and Samuel will find true happiness.”  And Uncle James, “You certainly jumped this one on us this time, Samuel.”  “Well, you did set the style, Uncle James,” Samuel replies in kind.
     Before comments get out of hand, James proposes a toast to the happy couple, and while the women chat, James takes Samuel aside, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, lad.  Selling that debt off [to Max] without so much as a by-your-leave.”  Samuel has an excuse.  Then James tells him about the Niger investment to try to make what’s left of it sound like a good deal, and that the price is so low because Samuel already had an interest in it.  “I had it in mind as a joint venture all along.”  Samuel agrees to the deal, “Subject, of course, to contract.”
     It turns out that Samuel’s new bride is the daughter of the president of the Yankees, and president of the Balwin-Long Island bank.  
     “And how are Samuel’s children?” Margarita inquires.  Caroline answers, “Oh, given time and a few changes, I guess we’ll get along just fine . . . Nurse Mumford for a start . . . Back home we do not foster precocity . . . I’m dismissing Nurse Mumford just as soon as my old nanny can get here from New York.”
     Mrs. Gibson comes in all aflurry, and James tries to dismiss her, but Charlotte (in a gaudy red & white striped dress) is already in the door.  “Why Samuel, I had no idea . . .”  (“Charlotte, this is not the time!” her father growls almost under his breath.)  “. . . I wasn’t expecting a family celebration.”  She greets Samuel’s new wife as “Aunt Margarita.”  Samuel comes up, “Caroline, may I introduce . . .”  He is cut off by Caroline, “No, Samuel.  An introduction would be, to say the very least, uncalled for.  Mr. and Mrs. Onedin, Lady Fogarty, excuse me.”  “Thank you Charlotte!” Samuel spits at her.  

     Capt. Baines and Tom sail into a storm (Baines trying to get him back to Liverpool in time, before his leave is up).  They make it through fine, but afterward Capt. Baines wants the barrels checked and double-checked.  The crewman takes a lantern down and discovers rats “drunk as bishops” on the leaking cargo.  One of the rats jumps on him and he drops his lantern.  The 2 sailors flee the blaze below, “Fire down in the hold!”  Baines tells Tom at the helm, “Hold ‘er steady.”  As Capt. Baines goes to investigate, one of the sailors says the ship’ll blow.  Tom leaves the helm, tell the man to “Hold ‘er hard by the wind.”
     Tom goes below with a bucket of sand with the promise that he’ll save the ship/cargo.  The ship shifts, Tom falls into the blaze, and by the time Capt. Baines can pull him out, he’s dead.  The crew get to the longboat, but the ship blows.  “Monument to my damned pride,” Capt. Baines bemoans.



S8 E7  Baines seeks to confront James abt Tom’s death; Max frames James to destroy him
     “You just rest nice and easy, Tom,” Capt. Baines says as he places a cross with Tom Arnold handsomely carved into it.  “I wanted to bury you at sea, but . . . just weren’t possible.  But . . . you’re not too far from the sea now.  It’s just over that next hill.  And I reckon that most days you’ll hear the sound of the gulls crying.  And also smell the sea.  This . . . this is only temporary-like.  I’ll getcha a proper headstone as soon as I can afford it.  And that’s a promise, lad.  I’ll be off, now, to Liverpool to settle matters with James Onedin.”

      “Will you not sit down Mr. Pearson?” Margarita wearily invites the man standing in her parlor.  “When I called at his office, they said he just left for home,” says a peeved Mr. Pearson.
     “Well, I’m sorry you missed him at the office, but . . . “ Margarita tries to make the best of an awkward situation.
     “I’ve been missing him for some weeks now.  I’ve been very patient with your husband, Mrs. Onedin.  More patient than most would have been.’  “I’m sorry.  My husband does not discuss his business . . .” Margareta tries to explain, but he’s in no mood to listen.  “Five months now he’s been owing me,” he shows a hand of fingers.  
     “If you will kindly excuse me, Mr. Pearson,” Margarita leaves as she hears James’ carriage drive up.  In the vestibule James greets her, “Ah, I come home for lunch and find you waiting for me by the door . . . Now that’s the sort of thing a husband likes to see.”  They embrace with smiles, but Margarita must break the unpleasantness waiting for her husband.
     “James, a Mr. Pearson is waiting to see you.”  “Oh, aye.  Mr. Pearson, eh?”  He walks into the parlor and puts on a bold front.  “Ah . . . Jack Pearson!  Why I haven’t seen you for . . .”  “Too long, Onedin,” Pearson replies.  “Hey, you’re lookin’ very well . . .” James does what he can to deflect the coming demand for payment.
     “It’s not good health.  Just a flush of impatience.”  “Ah, you’ll get your money, Jack,” James assures him.  “Aye, but when?  It’s 5 months since your ship left my yards.  I was warned not to let ‘er go until you’d paid up,” Margarita hears through the door.  “Warned?  By who?”  “Others who can’t get their money from you.  But I was fool enough to trust you.”
    “Oh, you can trust me, Jack.”  “I’d sooner have the money.”  “Well, I haven’t got it,” James at last admits, “It’s no small sum, you know.”  “Don’t I know it?!  Close on £2000.  And I need it now.  These are hard times for all of us [the continual reframe from all the show], not just for James Onedin.” 
     “Ah, well, they are especially hard for me, but you’ll get your money.  I promise ya.”  “Another one of your schemes in mind, eh?  Well, have you or haven’t you?”
     “Well, as a matter of fact, aye, I have.”  Now he just sounds like a con.  “And who are you planning to stab in the back this time?”  “You’d better leave the house, Pearson,” James growls low.  “Oh aye.  And still without my money.  Look.  I don’t care how you come by it, I want my money.  [Doesn’t he sound just like James when money is due him?]  I’m warning you, I’ll not wait much longer,” Pearson says as he walks out.   Margarita has to rush away from the vestibule as he comes through.  

     Capt. Baines comes to call.  Mrs. Gibson opens wide the doors of the Onedin home.  “I wanna talk to ‘im,” Capt. Baines come in.   “Mr. Onedin?  Mr. Onedin’s not at home.”  “Not at home to me, you mean?”  “You’ll either find him at the office or taking on stores,” Mrs. G takes Baines’ arm to encourage him to leave.
     “So ‘e’s ‘eard, ‘as ‘e? . . . And ‘e’s running like a frightened rabbit before I get back.”  She tries again to physically move him out the door, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re taking about.”  “Out o’ my way, woman,” Baines moves to the door into the parlor.  She blocks the door with her body.  “He’s not at home, I tell ya.”  
     “Come out and show yer face, damn ya.  Hidin’ behind some woman’s skirt!” Capt. Baines yells past her at the door.  
     “Just keep your voice down, will you?  Mrs. Onedin’s in there and she’s been ill.”  This is a woman who is used to making excuses.
     “Now I came here to speak to ‘im, and I’m not leavein’ ‘til I’ve had my say.!”
     “I’ve told ya Captain, you’ll find him at the office.”
     “Stand aside there, I’m goin’ in,” he pushes her, but she continues to block the door, “Then you’ll be steppin’ over me.  Mrs. Onedin’s alone in there, and I’ll not have you pestering her.”
     “Now listen.  I’ve never laid ‘ands on a woman before, but if you insist on sheltering a murderer . . .  Aye, that’s what ‘e is, no less., a murderer.”
     Margarita opens the door, “Mrs. Gibson, what is going on here?  Capt. Baines?”  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Onedin,” Mrs. G apologizes, “He insists on talking to Mr. Onedin, and I’ve told him he’s not at home.”  “Kindly explain yourself, Capt. Baines,” Margarita orders in not quite a kindly voice.
     “Well, whatever ‘appened and ‘owever I may look [drunk?], I’m still a shipmaster.  And I came ‘ere to speak with ‘im.   And I’ll not be sent away with excuses like a common lackey.”
     “I’ve told you it’s not an excuse, damn you, he’s not at home!” Mrs. G gets more insistent.  
     “Thank you, Mrs. Gibson,” Margarita at last intervenes.  Mrs. G doesn’t want to leave her mistress alone, but Margarita again excuses her, “I shall ring if I need you,” she says gently.
     “Please, come in, Capt. Baines,’ Margarita invites.  “Will you sit down?”  “No, I’ll stand, thank you,” he is still worked up, but stands humbled, without outbursts.  “I hope you do not mind if I do.”  He motions to signal to her to do so.
     “I am still rather unsteady on my feet,” she tells him, either because it’s true, or because it’s a way to calm him.    “We have not seen each other since you left the Onedin Line,” she offers conversationally to his back turned to her as he faces the wall.  “I was sad to hear of your leaving, but glad to hear you bought your own ship, and . . . “
     Baines breaks down into sobs.  “The poor lad didn’t even have a proper funeral.”
     “The lad?”  Baines turns around, composed and snarling, “Young Tom.  See how selfish I am?  Talkin’ about my pride . . .  And after all these years, workin’ at sea since I was little more than 12 years of age [previously he said he was working on a ship on the Chilean guano run, but of course sometimes remembrances are imperfect about our age in the past], I didn’t have enough money to buy the lad a piece of ground of ‘is own to lie in.  Now ‘ere I am in borrowed clothes, looking for faces to punch and bones to break ‘cause I can’t bear the grief I feel for that poor young soul.”  (Elizabeth had once told him he’d never end up a dependent if he didn’t choose to, because he’s a man.)
      “Tom?  Dead?” Margarita stands.  “But what happened?”
     “Oh, you must have heard . . .”
     “No!  At least I have not,” she looks down to the side.  She’s heard a lot about her husband lately, that has not been complimentary.  Is she thinking she married a man she didn’t even know?
     “Well, I lost my ship.  She caught fire.”  “I see. And young Tom?” she must suspect.  “Oh, he . . . he was burned.  Burned something terrible!  Damn your husband, missus, damn him!” Baines says as he wanders the room.
     Margarita sits again, “I’m sorry.  I don’t understand.”  “If he’d tried to show some sympathy for the lad’s feelings, if he’d treated the lad right, young Tom wouldn’tve run off like he did, and ‘e wouldn’tve been sailing on that damned devil ship of mine!”
     “But my husband said that you enticed the boy away,” Margarita believes one version of the story that was no doubt infused with hard feelings.  “That’s a lie,” Baines accuses.  He has his own version of the story, and it’s colored by his own feelings of guilt.  
     “I understood Onedin gave him permission to sail with me, and it wasn’t until it was too late that the lad told me the truth,” Capt. Baines can’t bring himself to fault the young man he knows to have been a liar.
     “And what was that?” Margarita wants to hear Baines perspective, though it might be painful.  “Onedin drove him to disobedience.  Into breaking ‘is Articles, and to joining me and my ship.”  Very true James came down hard on the boy.  But through many episodes we’ve seen the boy to be clever, resourceful, sometimes too clever, too headstrong, compulsive . . . Maybe he was changing, overcoming his beginnings, through the influence of the 2 men he most admired, but maybe he still didn’t have perspective and compunction.
     “Onedin is to blame for that lad’s terrible end . . .” Baines is suffering so for his own guilt, he wants to unload it on James.  Truly, they share it, with the boy as well, with whoever didn’t make sure the cargo wasn’t leaking, and some of it just pure accident.  Baines was already angry at James regarding the African venture, over the years he had blamed James for other misadventures, and no doubt those came telescoping in the crisis.
     “. . . like he’s to blame for a whole lot else,” Capt Baines feels deeply.  “What else? Margarita’s face seeks answers.  “Matters I turned a blind eye to at the time, God forgive me.” As though Capt. Baines has been faultless.
     “And you know one of ‘em,” Baines points to her.  “Do I?” she wants him to explain.  “Aye.  Van der Rheede’s brother [Baines only knows Max’s side of the story, he didn’t hear the tirade Max poured upon Theodore].  But it’ll all catch up with Onedin soon enough.  You’ll see if it don’t.  And the Lord and the Devil will make ‘im pay for the things ‘e’s done, I’ll be along with them with all my strength!”  So says a man in anger and anguish.  James confessed when they were adrift on the ocean and nearly died, that he deserved a lot (S6 E10).  We have seen much of that.  We have seen that he was human, fallible, sometimes making choices with horrendous consequences, sometimes out of unbending pride.  But that’s not all there is or was to him.
    Capt. Baines stumbles, and it’s obvious that he’s drunk, speaking from drunken anger.
     He turns to say kindly to her, “I’ve nothin’ against you, missus.,” even though she also made some mistakes which had dire consequences.  “I just fear for ya, that’s all.  I mean that lad, he died in my arms, and I’ll never forget ‘is poor burned face as long as I live,” the unshaven old man breaks down again.  “And I’ll never forgive Onedin.  Never!”  Just as he will never forgive himself.
     He leaves, and we can only hope that having got it all off his chest, he can eventually heal.  We’ve loved the old man, he’s a good man.  Rough, but good at heart.
     Margarita is left to think, to wonder, to sorrow for his pain as well as the young man’s.
     We next see Baines in van der Rheeds carriage, the sly user.  Max offers to take Baines to dinner, but Baines just wants to go home.  Max invites him for at least drinks on the morrow, and knows how to twist the knife in a person’s pain, as well as to speak smoothly.

     “We’d heard there was a ship on fire at sea.  Never thought for a moment it was Baines’ ship.  The lad drowned?” James has obviously been confronted by Margarita.  She amends the “drowned” to “burned”. 
     “Oh, God,” James murmurs and turns away.  Then turns back, “Baines say anything else?” James asks with a careworn face.  “Not much else.”  Suddenly James turns and hastens to the door.
     “Where are you going?” she asks with anxiety in her voice.  “Baines’ lodgings.”  “No, James, don’t go now!” she calls out in panic.  What has happened to the bravery she boasted of (S8 E3)?  He pauses, “Losing his ship and Tom.  He’ll want someone to talk to.”  James knows the man, but is James the one he can talk to about this?  Maybe being able to confront James is just what he needs, or maybe at this point James’ presence will only make him angrier.  No doubt that’s what Margarita fears.  She knows Baines’ is drunk, that by his own admission he wants to punch somebody . . .
     She wants to postpone, to let Baines sober.  She poses, “But it can wait ‘til the morning.”  Doesn’t seem like good advice, it would only seem James doesn’t care, if on learning about the tragedy he didn’t go right away.
     “Oh, he won’t be sleeping much.  Neither will I,” James tells her.  “No, James, please,” she pleads unwisely.  The panic in her voice causes him to turn and ask, “What’s the matter?  What’s wrong?”  “Hold me.”  For a last farewell, in hopes to distract him from his purpose, to offer him solace?
     “Hey, you’re trembling,” he notices as they embrace.  Suddenly she says, “You are right.  I am not well yet.  I can not wait to sail away from here.”  Again, where is her boasted bravery?
     “The news about Tom . . . It’s upset you, eh?”  “Yes.  Yes it has.” She is using this as a pretext.
      He wanders away, then turns to ask  “There’s something else?”  “I’m frightened for you,” she admits.  “Frightened for me?”  Though he had admitted to Caroline that he had felt fear often enough, he has never let it hold him back from what needed done.  “That man who came here this afternoon.  Other men you owe money to.  Captain Baines . . . You have so many enemies!”
     “Oh, you’re seeing dangers where there are none,” his voice is soothing.  “Hey.  We both of us need to get away from Liverpool.  We’ll sail as soon as I get a crew, eh?”  She’s feeling relieved, enthused, “Where will we go?”  “Oh . . . Holland . . . Yes, there’s a couple of people owe me favors in Amsterdam [ironic to sail to Amsterdam, when the greatest threat is Max of Dutch extraction].  Now, we’ll pick up a cargo and then . . . then off we’ll go.”  Earlier Elizabeth had told him the sooner he went to sea the better, and he had agreed that all his troubles were on land.  But now as he embraces Margarita we can’t help but notice some worry embrace his face, while she can’t see it.

     Max meets Samuel in the club, with his usual smooth talk.  Samuel confronts him about asking for immediate payment on the James’ debt, and Max pretends that was because James essentially tricked him into buying an unseaworthy ship (the one Max bought because he thought James wanted it).  Samuel warns him that it’s dangerous to cross swords with his uncle, because he generally wins.
     Max flatters him about his wife, invites the 2 of them to dinner, but Samuel says they are dining with his uncle.  Max extracts a promise that they’ll dine with him soon.

     James and Samuel rejoin the women after the women have retired to allow the men to discuss things without them present.  They are all dressed formally, the men have drinks, the women tea.  Margarita sits apart, looking down.   James asks Elizabeth, “What’s this you’ve heard from Daniel? [Samuel had thought she’d mentioned it].”  “Oh, it’s only a rumor, perhaps I shouldn’t . . . Oh well, you may as well know.  Daniel was talking to Sir Gerald Langley.”
     “Hmm? What does he want this time?” James asks.  “Nothing.  It’s just that he told Daniel that the Queen wrote you a personal letter of thanks for conducting Prince Alexander to Bulgaria.”  She’s obviously proud of the notice.  James merely quietly, simply says, “Ay, well, she did, yes.”
     Caroline almost jumps in her seat as she turns with animation, “The Queen wrote you a letter?”  Margarita is also happily impressed, “James, you did not tell me.”  “He didn’t tell any of us,” Elizabeth says with a smile.  “But what’s more important, the Queen may have it in mind to reward you in some way,” Elizabeth looks in her brother’s direction.  
     Margarita stands with enthusiasm and walks to her husband, “James.  You are to be honored.”  Caroline stands and walks to her husband, “Isn’t that just wonderful news?”  James stammers, “Now, now . . .just a moment.  It is only a rumor.”  Margarita touches his arm, “James, surely you are pleased.  You are to be honored! . . . have you nothing to say?  You ought to be feeling proud!”  She definitely is pleased and proud, as are the other two women.  Samuel wears a smile but hasn’t’ said anything yet.
     “Maybe I should.  Only I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not so proud about,” and Margarita knows what he is referring to.  
     Van der Rheede begins setting an elaborate trap.  He gets the girlfriend of a thief to lend him a diamond necklace “just for a few days”, he tries to get Baines indebted to him, and when Baines mentions he’s got things to return to James (and plans to just leave them on one of his ships), he sees an opportunity to have stolen goods planted on one of James’ ships.  

     James hires a cook known for good cooking, but also coming away with more than just his wages.  “I’m hiring you because I want my wife to eat well on this voyage.  But I warn ya, I’m acquainted with every recipe known to ships’ cooks for lining their pockets at their master’s expense.”  He’s to start by cleaning the galley.

     James happens to come aboard his ship when Baines is returning some books.  “You waiting to talk to me?” James asks.  “No, I’m returning Onedin Line property.  We’ve nothing to talk about,” Baines tells him.  “Oh, you were most anxious to talk to me the other day.  Ranting and threatening.  My wife barely out of her sickbed.  She made no complaint.  I heard it all from Mrs. Gibson.”  This doesn’t sound like the kind of conversation that would help Baines heal.
     “What did you expect me to do?  Sit in my lodgings, nursing my grief like a sick child?  I’m not that kind of man,” Baines says, but it appears that’s exactly what he’s done.  “Well have you nothing to say, damn you?”
     “Yes I have,” James says calmly.  “I’m sorry about your ship.”  “Oh, damn the ship.  Timber and canvas.  What about the lad?”  James takes a moment, and says quietly, “I’m truly sorry about the lad.  I know that you and he had become . . .“  “What about you?  Are you saying you’ve no whit of feeling for ‘im?” Baines accuses.  “No, I’m not saying that, because I had,” James turns to him and emphasizes.  “And I’m not saying that I didn’t feel some measure of guilt for his death.  Don’t you?”
     Capt. Baines is affected.  “Well, whatever the truth of it, I’m leading my life my own way from now on,” Baines states adamantly, and turns away.  
     “Working for Max van der Rheede,” James states his question.  “Yes, I am,” Baines sounds much more decisive than when he talked to the man.  He climbs up the steps, James shakes his head and pours himself a drink.
     A couple of policemen come down into the saloon.  They have questions.  James is anxious to sail, without a cargo, going to Holland to pick up some undetermined cargo.  Can they search the ship?  What for?  What’s it all about?  We don’t know (what we’re looking for).  We have the papers to do so.  So why are you asking?  “Just acting on information received, sir.”  “Information from who?”  “It wouldn’t help you to know.  Certain wretched souls are paid to pass it on.”
     In one of the map cases they find the stolen diamond necklace.  
     Samuel calls Elizabeth, Lady Fogarty, to tell her James has been arrested.  Elizabeth and Samuel meet at Margarita’s to tell her.  Samuel’s new wife presumes James’ guilt, and they argue about it.  James is charged with receiving stolen property.  Because it was stolen from a private house, the fact that it was found on James’ ship is enough to convict him.
     Margarita comes into her drawing room, “What’s wrong?  Is it James?  Has something happened to him?” she begins to panic.  Elizabeth tells her calmly that James has been arrested for receiving stolen property.  Samuel insists it’s a mistake (as Elizabeth had, but Caroline was concerned about it getting into the papers, in England, in America, and her father thinking she had married into a family of . . . she doesn’t finish the sentence.)
     Margarita wants to know what will happen to James, what if it can’t be proven to be a mistake . . . he could go before a magistrate, who could recommend he be tried, if found guilty . . . “I have a right to know!” . . . 14 years of penal servitude.  Since it’s his first offense, Samuel says he might serve as little as 2 years.  
     Samuel is finally allowed to visit James in jail.  If James didn’t buy the stolen goods, who put them there?  “Any wharf rat could have slipped aboard during the night,” James tells him.  What’s the motive, for hiding it, and for informing the police?
     “Uncle, I have the feeling that you know who it was.”  James denies it.  He also tells Samuel, “Listen, um, I don’t want Margarita to come here.  I don’t want her to see me like . . . um . . . well, it would upset her.”  Samuel promises to keep her from coming.
     “It’s a gross injustice for a man like you to be in here,” Samuel says.  “A man like me, eh?” James isn’t proud of everything he’s done.  Naturally, none of us is.  Not all of us would have made all the choices he has made, but who of us has a right to pick up stones to cast?  He is basically an honest man, not a thief, not a boldface liar (even if he may have used a certain version of the truth for his own ends, or because it really was his perspective).  He has a basic sense of morality, a sense of right and wrong.  And of course we know he has been framed.  No one deserves to be imprisoned for a crime they haven’t committed.
     The police aren’t even looking for the cook James signed on, because they don’t have to (as the case has been outlined above).  So James asks Samuel to look for him, which he promises to do.  Was he the one?  Who else?  Well, actually, the police have found out Capt. Baines was aboard the ship that day.  But James tells Samuel to forget about Capt. Baines.
     Elizabeth feels like James is just protecting Baines.  After all, Baines has motive.  Beside the loss of the ship and the boy that was like a son to him, Baines owed for the refitting of the ship before it sailed.  But Samuel knows that Max paid that off.  
     At first Samuel can’t believe Max could be out to destroy James, because he’s always been so nice.  Elizabeth alleges that he’s been using them all.  
     James’ counsel visits him in his cell.  He admits, “On the surface, Mr. Onedin, it does look bad for us.”  “Us? Huh . . . you mean me, don’t you.  I’m the prisoner, you’re the solicitor,” James strides back and forth across the cell.
     The solicitor brings up the point that Holland is the center of the diamond trade.  James says he was just being honest about where he was going.  The solicitor tells James he’s not being very helpful, and James says the same of him.  
     “Thought of being locked away in this place for sommat I didn’t do . . . up to 14 years?”  “It hasn’t come to that yet.  Nevertheless, until we can discover how the necklace came to be in your possession, we must not belittle the gravity of your situation.”  James exhales, “Believe me, Mr. Dakers, I do not.?”  Can James think of who might want to harm him in such a way?  Yes.

     Van der Rheede goes to visit Margarita, feigning care for her, and James.  “It must be a severe ordeal for a man like your husband, so accustomed to space and freedom and the clean salt air, to suddenly find himself imprisoned in a dank cell,” he says, then asks forgiveness, as though he didn’t know the affect of such words.  “And the shipping world is full of opportunities and temptations . . . “You must not blame him too much.”

     Van der Rheed goes to visit James in prison.  James tells the jailer to take him away, but Max slips something into the hand of the jailer, who then walks away.  Max brings up the rumor of the Queen honoring James, and says even if he’s found not guilty, that honor is not likely to come.  Max thinks that James would really care about that, but Max would care more about it than James.  Such honors were never James’ interest.
     “Oh, enjoying this, aren’t you? . . .” James knows that’s why he has come, to try to torture/destroy him mentally, emotionally.  Max tells him that even his own wife thinks him guilty (or at least that’s what he tried to engender).  “If anything happens to my wife because of you, I swear I’ll kill you,” James gets up and comes to the cell door to say in a low voice to his adversary.  Max says there’s no use trying to threaten him, because he won’t be in a position to “for a very long time.”

     Samuel sees Capt. Baines in an old gutted stone structure.  “I’ve been looking for you for 2 days.”  “So I heard, Master Samuel . . . but I didn’t want to be found.  Mr. Onedin was right.  I was to blame in part for what happened to young Tom.”
     “Yes, well I can understand the need for you to drown your sorrows, Capt. Baines, but whilst you’ve been doing that, my uncle has been arrested.”  “Arrested? For what?”  “For receiving stolen property.”  “Stolen?  I mean they . . . they can’t prove that he’s . . .”
     “As far as the police are concerned, possession is proof.  But I’m of the opinion that Max van der Rheede is behind the whole thing.”  Capt. Baines begins to pace.  “I told Mr. Onedin I’d gone to work for van der Rheede.  Spoken out of grief and spite at the time.  But the truth is that I refused to work for ‘im.”
      “Why?”  “Well, he was being far to generous.  And I . . . I reckoned he wanted me to do something not legal.”  Samuel walks over to the man old enough to be his grandfather, “Capt. Baines, a stolen necklace was found in the ship’s saloon . . . on the day you were aboard.”
     “Huh?  So that’s why you’ve been lookin’ for me.  You thought that I . . .”  Samuel admits the possibility, “Yes, I’m sorry.”  Baines, after thinking about it remembers hearing someone below when he went aboard.   Samuel assumes it must have been the cook, who was the only crewmember hired at the time.  “Pendleton?  If you want whoever took that necklace aboard, you don’t need to look any further.  He’s the finest cook on the 7 seas, and he’s the shiftiest.”
     Elizabeth and Samuel want Dunwoody to find the cook, but he says he’d already sent a clerk to pay him off, and he was gone.  The clerk spent a whole day looking, asking, but the man had disappeared.

     The scene changes to Max and the thief’s girlfriend in her lodgings.  She’s unhappy because Max had said he’d only borrow the necklace a few days.  At first she thinks he must have given it to another woman.  Then she asks, “It’s nothin’ to do with Onedin being arrested, is it?  ‘e’s going to be charged with stolen jewelry, it said in the papers.”  Max denies it has anything to do with James.  She presses him to tell her what he’s done with the necklace.  He grabs her roughly, but then checks himself.  She rightly realizes, “You don’t care what happens to me.  When ‘e turns up demandin’ that necklace, if it’s not ‘ere, ‘e could kill me.”
     Max reiterates that he will take care of her.  But how can he if he’s not there?  Then she gets the idea that he could take her away somewhere.  He flatters her that she’s very clever, and after she presses him some more, he promises he’ll take her away.  
     Next scene he is talking with a man as they walk along a beach, making a deal for a permanent removal of an embarrassment for £50.  
     She finds herself, along with others, to have been sold, shipped away from Liverpool.    Betsy tells the woman crying next to her in the hold with a bunch of barrels, “You’re not cryin’ for any man, I hope.  Cry for yourself, love, but not for any one of them.  Pigs, all of them.  Deceivers.  Max van der Rheede,” she says bitterly, “He was frightened o’ what I might discover.  That’s why I’m ‘ere.  Whatever it was ‘e done, I’d never ‘ave given ‘im away, never.”  Such is the foolish loyalty of some women.  

     James is about to go into court.  They know who’s behind it all, but have no evidence.  The solicitor mentions James having a big scheme that would pay off all his debts.  But James admits that there was no scheme.  “Wolves are howling at your heels, you gotta throw them something.”  Hardly makes him sound any better than a common con artist.  
     James tells his solicitor that he’s well aware of the full weight of evidence against him.  Samuel insists loudly that they are not going to give up.  James is resigned:  One way or another, I suppose, a man gets what he deserves.  Yet years ago he said that a man doesn’t get what he deserves but what he earns, through hard work, etc.  He’s many years older now, is he wiser on that score, or just disillusioned, or despondent?

     Samuel announces to Margarita and Elizabeth that because of the preponderance of evidence, James is to be tried in court at the next Sessions.  Margarita is sure that he’ll be found guilty.  She claims that she can see a little doubt in Samuel’s eyes, despite his protestations.  
     Elizabeth asks if someone has been making her doubt her husband.  Of course, Margarita has only known him a short time, has been confronted with things she hadn’t known.  Elizabeth has known him the longest and best.  She’s no innocent about the kind of person he is, but still believes in him.  Even Samuel, being that much younger, doesn’t know his uncle as well as she does.
     Van der Rheede has the gall to come visiting again, while all three of these are there.  Elizabeth is practiced at dealing with all kinds of men and businessmen.  He pretends to have come out of deep concern for Margarita, having heard the outcome of James before the magistrate.
     “You are the vilest man I have ever known.,” Elizabeth pronounces her judgment of him.  “You deem James responsible of the death of you brother, and you came here to Liverpool to wreak your vengeance upon him . . . Let me tell you something, Mr. van der Rheede.  In your hatred, your blind hatred, your determination to be avenged, you have revealed yourself as your brother’s destroyer.  I’ve no doubt you behaved towards him as you’ve behaved towards this family with one face as a smiling friend and the other a scheming enemy.  Take both those faces from this house . . . and never bring them here again.”
     He’s listened to her stiffly, without argument, and then walks out the door.  
     Margarita slowly sits upon the settee, and says again, “They will find him guilty.”
     “Pray God no.  For James, the worst torture that could ever befall him would be imprisonment.” Elizabeth knows her brother.  There’s the freedom of space and movement he feels from sailing the seas, and there’s the freedom of self-determination:  to do and to be, to pursue, what he chooses for himself.

S8 E8—Margarita, Elizabeth, & Samuel seek to clear James, Charlotte visits James in jail
     Dunwoody informs Lady Fogarty’s employees that she is offering a reward of 50 guineas for finding the cook (Pendleton) James had hired for his voyage to Holland.  A copy of the letter is sent to all her captains.  Samuel warns her, “Could be a wasted of money, Aunt.”  
     “It’ll only be a waste if Pendleton proves to have no knowledge of the necklace,” Elizabeth amends.  “Well if that’s the case, then God help Uncle James, because there’s no one else,” Samuel fears.  Elizabeth sighs, “There’s Capt. Baines.”  “Oh no, Aunt.  I’ve spoken to ‘im.  No, whatever bitterness there may have been between them, he could never have done such a wicked thing.”
     “Wicked! . . . to conceal stolen property aboard James’ ship, solely that he might be sentenced to years of penal servitude?  It’s inhuman!  As God is my witness I shall prove to the world that James is innocent, and that Pendleton was in the pay of Max van der Rheede.”  Whatever ebbs and flows of the relationship between Elizabeth and James, they do really care for, love, each other.
     “Can’t help wishing Uncle Daniel was here,” Samuel says as he crosses the room and picks up the man’s photo.  “There’s no profit in wishing, Samuel.  Besides, I doubt even Daniel could do as much as has already been done,” Elizabeth says as she consults the mirror to pin on her hat.  Mention of Daniel causes her to comment sadly, “There’s been no letter for over a month now.”
     “It’s just that for someone in my position . . . oh dear, I do hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Aunt . . .”  “I rather fear I may,” she says truthfully.  Samuel exhales, “ . . . but I’m beginning to realize that I have to be very careful.  See, I’m already losing customers.  It seems that the name Onedin is not to be trusted anymore.”  “You’d disown your Uncle James?” she confronts him.
     “No, no, no, of course not.  No!  But I’m not sure how far I can publicly defend him, either.”  At her disapproving look, he adds, “Well what earthly good will it do him if I’m ruined?”  It’s a balancing act fraught with peril.  “Well by all means, see to your own interests, Samuel.  But let me assure you that if James is convicted, we shall all suffer,” Elizabeth speaks the truth.  Yet if they lose their wealth and position, they can hardly help him in his case, or seek remedies or witnesses.
     Samuel opens the doors and they exit her parlor.

     Capt. Baines’ landlady knocks loudly and calls for him at his apartment door.  Her husband, an amputee (sleeve pinned up) is behind her.  “I know you’re there.  It’s no good pretending you’re not.  It’s time you and I had a talk!”  She bangs again.  Her husband offers, “’e might be ill, Mrs. Sparrow.”  “Insensible through drink, more like.”  Baines has been known to get drunk over his troubles.
     A view inside Baines’ apartment reveals a room crowded with mementos of his long sailing career and travels over a lifetime.  Baines is asleep in the solitary chair in the room.  “Captain?  I have my key.  Must I use it?”  She asks for it from her husband.  The key in the lock seems to rouse Capt. Baines, “The door’s unlocked.”  He rises with difficulty as they come in, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Sparrow?  I’ll get it for you soon, I promise.”  
     “After your voyage, you said.  You’d pay all the overdue rent as soon as ya came ‘ome.  That’s what ya said . . . I’m not a rich woman, Captain.  And since Mr. Sparrow’s tragic loss, this ‘ouse is all the livelihood we’ve got.  Life is difficult enough without people who don’t pay their rent.  I’m not a charity, Captain.”
     Baines has said he was sorry.  He repeats that he’ll get the money soon.  “I . . . I . . . I’ll get a berth.  I promise.”  “I can give you just one more week.  No longer.   You should’ve accepted the  position Mr. van der Rheede was offering ya.  You’ll be lucky to find another one as good.”
     “Howd’you know about that?” Baines asks from his chair.  “Because ‘e came ‘ere to see you.  And where were you?  Beatin’ up against an ale-head wind, I’m sure.”  She calls for her husband to follow her out the door, but he takes a moment to lean over and say to Capt. Baines, “She don’t mean it, Will.  Ya’ve got longer than a week.  I’ll see to that.”

     Mrs. Gibson brings a large silver tray into the parlor as Margarita is sorting papers.  “These I must send to James’ bankers, these to his solicitor, these to Mr. Dunwoody, and these to Elizabeth.  And why?  Because I am not allowed to act for him, not allowed to sign for him, or pay money for him.  At home I helped my father rule a whole country!”  But was she really able to sign for him?
     “Ah, but this is England, ma’am,” Mrs. G says proudly, but when Margarita whips around displeased, she focuses on the tea tray before her.  
     “And these.  Oh, I don’t know.  James is the only one who can say what to do about these, and yet I am not even allowed to go and see him,” Margarita expresses her frustration.  “But it’s no place for a woman.  We can’t have a lady like yourself going into prison.  Shall I pour the tea?” asks Mrs. G.
     “At home, Mrs. Gibson, when I was 19 years old, I was in prison for 8 months.  Men and women herded together without enough water or food.  In order not to starve, we had to eat the lizards and spiders that crawled over us!”  Mrs. G crinkles her face at that.  

     James has been remarkably patient in his prison cell.  He doesn’t pace or vehemently curse or threaten, he sits stoically staring.  He eats stoically, quietly.  The prison guard opens his door to announce, “Visitor.  Young lady.  Says she’s Mrs. Onedin.”
     James answers vehemently, “I said she wasn’t to come!”  But the guard looks back and motions with his head for the young woman to come in.  It’s Charlotte in a handsome caped and vested brown ensemble, lacy scarf pinned at her neck.
     “Hello, Father,” she says with a pleasant smile.  James sets aside his tray of prison food and stands up, hardly able to believe who it is that has come to see him.
     “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed,” she says, still hopeful of a positive greeting.
     “Oh, nay, lass.  Bit of a shock.  Can’t seem to find me wits so quickly these days,” but at last he is able to smile and to come to kiss her forehead.  
     “So, didn’t know you was in Liverpool,” he comments in a friendly way.  “Bristol,” she updates his knowledge.  “Margarita wrote to tell me.”  “Long way to come,” he mentions as he walks toward the window of his cell.  ( Bristol is about 180 mi south of Liverpool). “Not sure you should’ve bothered.  Can’t say I enjoy being seen like this,” he says as he buttons his vest.  
     “I’m sorry,” she looks down, but then looks up to add, “I just . . . I just felt I had to come.”  “Aye, it’s a kindly thought.”  He walks back over to her.  “So.  When d’ya have to be back in Bristol?” 
     “Oh, I don’t.  I’ve left the company.  I’ve decided to leave the theater altogether,” she says in positive strains.  He nods, favorably impressed.  “Oh, I enjoyed it for awhile.  And I proved to myself that I could do something on my own without anybody else’s help,” she explains
     He is able to appreciate that, and asks, “So what are you going to do now?”  “Oh, I don’t know yet.” She is of a class and family wherein she has time to decide.  “Most of all, I’d like to help  you,” she says genuinely.  With her newfound self-respect, and his apparent acceptance, she can rebuild her relationship with her father.
     “It’s all being done that can be,” he sits back on his bunk.  “I don’t believe that.  There must be something,” she rushes toward him and sits on his bunk next to him.  
     “You could stay with Margarita, eh?” he sounds happy with the idea.  “That’d be a help.  Keep ‘er company.”  “Why yes, I’d like to.”  How good it is to see them able to smile at each other, perhaps after a very long time, or through long spaces of time.
     James gets up and walks away, then back with a stool to sit closely opposite to her, “And another thing.  I don’t know what’s happening to my ships.  Now Dunwoody and your aunt likely think I’ve got enough on me mind, so they’re not telling me.”  Knowing he’s in a prison cell with nothing to do, surely they wouldn’t think that, but no doubt they don’t want to add more worries or cares to his mind.
     “But I want to know!” he emphasizes.  “But I know nothing of your affairs,” she feels inadequate.   No doubt she will come to feel more self-respect and confidence with his willingness to entrust her with something that means a lot to him.  He may feel he can more successfully effect her cooperation than those who with more experience in his world would be less willing to allow.
     “Well, then ya ask ‘em,” he says simply.  “Nay, ya tell ‘em.  I might be stuck in ‘ere, but they are still my ships, and I want to know,” he again emphasizes.  She smiles happily at his giving her a task he values.
   
     “I shall have to consult his papers, Miss Charlotte.  I’m sorry, but . . .” Mr. Dunwoody explains to her.  “Perhaps I could do that.  To save you the trouble.”  It’s fortunate that she is talking to Dunwoody.  Because she’s an owner’s daughter, he would be more willing to cooperate with her.  She’s above him in social standing, her father above him in company standing.  Whereas her aunt Elizabeth would likely dismiss her, and Samuel would probably do as well.
     “Why, uh, yes.  If you so wish, by all means,  It was just the sailing schedules you were interested in, was it?” he moves to retrieve them.  “Well, I wonder if it would be possible to look through all the current charters,” she turns to him, as he has turned back toward her.  “Charters.  Of course.”
     “And bills of lading?” she adds, and with a chuckle, “If that’s what they’re called.  Plus,” she takes out a list, “any  tenders submitted recently, correspondence with agents, insurance documents . . . “
     “But Miss Charlotte, it would take you a a week merely to read a list of such documents, let alone comprehend them,” Dunwoody tells her.  “My father requires as full an appraisal as possible, Mr. Dunwoody,” her tone takes on a more serious sound.  
     “Well, I’ll, uh, bring you the papers, if you care to step into Mr. Onedin’s office.  What Lady Fogarty will have to say, I truly don’t know,” Dunwoody says doubtfully.  “What should she have to say?  I’m sure my aunt would hardly object to . . .”
     Capt. Baines walks into the office as she is mid-sentence.  After each speaking the other’s names by way of greeting, Capt. Baines addresses Charlotte, “I’m very sorry about your father.”  “And I was sorry to hear about your ship,” she returns.  “Hear about young Tom and all, did you?”  I don’t know how well she knew Tom, or about him, but apparently something.
     “Yes,” she answers perfunctorily as she turns away.  “Burned to death.  Did you know that?”  “Yes.”  “Burned to death,” Capt. Baines repeats.
     “Was there, uh, something you wanted, Capt. Baines?” Dunwoody asks.  “I heard there was a hue and cry on for Jack Pendleton,” Capt. Baines walks toward Dunwoody.  “Oh, discreet inquires concerning his whereabouts, certainly.  Why?”  “I also heard there was 50 guineas reward,” it must surely be hard for Capt. Baines to mention it, testament to his desperate need.  
     “That’s so,” Dunwoody confirms.  “Aye, well, I know where he is,” Baines reveals.  Charlotte and Dunwoody look at one another, mouths parted.  

     Now they are in Margarita’s parlor.  “D’you meant to say he actually took the money?” Samuel asks his aunt Elizabeth as he lights her slim cigar.  “He did indeed, with great embarrassment.  Obviously he needed it.”  “He should never have left Uncle James,” Samuel assesses.  “I don’t think you can blame a man for wanting to be his own master.”  Certainly both James and Elizabeth have always wanted to be their own masters, and indeed, Samuel as well.  “But very few men are born to be their own master,” Margarita poses.  That’s a philosophical question that could be long discussed, has been long debated.
     “Was his information worth 50 guineas?” Samuel asks.  “Well the day after James was arrested, Pendleton signed on a ship called the ‘Bridget Mayland’.  They sailed immediately.”  “How convenient for him,” Samuel thinks.  “Seems the cook who had originally been taken on died.  Capt. Baines discovered this and wondered whether perhaps Pendleton had taken his place,” Elizabeth explains.
     “But if he has already sailed, how shall we find him?” Margarita asks.  “Do you know where they’re bound?” Samuel asks.  “Yes, I have it written down,” Elizabeth gets up with alacrity to retrieve it.  “The ‘Bridget Mayland’ is, at the moment, making for Cherbourg [France, across the English Channel from Southampton & Portsmouth], where she has a cargo to discharge.  And in 4 day’s time, she’s due in La Rochelle [France, north of Bourdeaux], to take on a cargo of flax and hemp.”  
     “Bay of Biscay”, Samuel notes.  “Surely one of your steamships could get there in time.”  “Yes, indeed, but they’re all engaged.  No, wait.  The ‘Albert Trader’ could be ready in 3 day’s time,” Elizabeth walks over to say to Samuel.  She apparently sees no irony in her recent chiding of Samuel for pursuing his own interests ahead of James’ situation, or has come to recognize the truth in what he said.
     “No, that is too long to wait,” Margarita interposes, “We must go now!”  “Uncle James has quite a few ships that are idle, but of course they are sailing ships,” Samuel mentions.  “But could we get to La Rochelle in 4 days?” Margarita asks.  “Well, with a fair wind and a good crew, yes,” Samuel answers.  Margarita rises enthusiastically, “In that case, I shall take James’ fastest ship, engage the very best captain, and sail on the next tide.  Then I shall find this man Pendleton, and make him tell the truth.”
     “Hmm.  I suppose a signed deposition would do,” Samuel posits.  “And if he refuses to sign one?” Elizabeth poses.  “Elizabeth!  He will have no choice!” Margarita remembers to use her English name instead of Isobel.  
     “He could be bribed, I suppose,” Samuel suggests.  “Yes, if necessary!” Margarita is in favor of anything.  “I am merely trying to point out that Pendleton may take a deal of persuading and that it might, therefore, be more fitting if he was confronted by a man rather than by a woman,” Elizabeth addresses the issue.  “Well there’s no question of him being confronted by a woman.  I shall confront him,” Samuel volunteers.  “Good,” Elizabeth agrees.
     “When we return, we shall have proof that James Is innocent,” Margarita has changed her tune.

     Samuel is anxious on the sailing ship.  He tells Margarita they should have waited for a steamer.  But having a course of action, Margarita could not wait around in Liverpool.  She asks the captain when they’ll arrive in La Rochelle, and he says they should make it before nightfall, but he’s worried about a storm coming up to hinder them.  “A bad storm?” Margarita asks.  “In these waters, ma’am, that’s the only way they come.”

     In his prison cell, Charlotte shows James the cancellations they’ve received:  looms, rice, pottery, wool, machine parts . . . “Innocent until proven guilt, like heck,” James voices what most feel.  He gets up from his bunk to bemoan, “As soon as ships become idle, they begin to rot.  Customers go elsewhere.  [it’s a] job to get ‘em back.  Loans get called in, before you know it, you’re goin’ under,” James knows the routine.  
     Charlotte turns with conviction, “Then we must fight back!  Find new customers!”  James chuckles, “For a lass that’s supposed to ‘ave no ‘ead for business, you’ve got more gumption than some of my chief clerks,” James pats her on the shoulder as he retakes his seat on the bunk.  Over the years of living with her father, no doubt she has heard plenty of talk about his businesses, even if she didn’t know all the details of how to run them.  “. . .  but ‘ow you gonna find new customers while they’re callin’ me a thief?” he spotlights the problem.
     “They’ve still not set any date for the trial?” she asks in more subdued tones.  “Nobody seems in much of a hurry [one is reminded of Dickens’ Bleak House], least of all that damn solicitor of mine!  Could be another 6 months.”  “What are we saying?” Charlotte suddenly brightens, “As soon as Samuel and Margarita get back from La Rochelle, the charges will be dropped!”  James puts on an engaging smile, perhaps more for her sake than his own conviction, “Aye . . . Maybe.”


     Thunder rumbles as Margarita pages through a book.  Samuel comes below wearing a coat, carrying an umbrella, but no other rain gear, saying, “Thank God we made port before she broke.”  Margarita rises, asking, “The ‘Bridget Mayland?”  “Hasn’t docked yet.  We’ve got here first . . . Port or Brandy,” he asks as he rubs to warm his hands.  “Brandy please,” she sits again, “How long shall we have to wait?”
     “Well it’s Capt. Calder’s opinion that if she’s caught in the storm, she might run for shelter somewhere up the coast.  So we probably won’t see her until late tomorrow, or even the day after.”  “I think I can be patient for just that long.”

     James is engrossed in his books when the jailer calls lights out.  “Quieten down, go to sleep.”  He looks through the barred window of the door of James cell, “Goodnight, Cap’n,” he says before turning the gas down at the main pipe.  James is left to the whistle and chug of a passing train to hear, maybe symbolizing that life, freedom, is passing by.

     Elizabeth plays her piano as she hears Daniels voice in her mind, the words written in the last letter she received from him, speaking of his journey up the Bulgar Dagh range  (part of the Taurus mountains of southern Turkey), the simple followers of Rumi (13th century Sufi [mystic Islamists] poet/prophet), his own contemplation of what’s most important to him (his love for Elizabeth), and his intention to give up both politics and professional pursuits and focus on her.  She finds all this very pleasingly romantic, perhaps more easily romanticizes because of their long separation and her desire to be the epitome of his thoughts and actions in life.  She’s an interesting combination of the consummate businesswoman and the continual romantic.

     When the “Bridget Mayland” is 3 days overdue, it’s all Samuel can do to calm Margarita that it was only a guess, they might have been damaged in the storm and put into another port, but they still have to come to La Rochelle to pick up their waiting cargo.  Margarita is impatient, believing her feeling that the ship will never come, that it has been damaged to extensively, or even sunk.  Samuel talks with the captain, who thinks it’s a waste of time to search for people or evidence from the ship, since the chances are slim to none of finding anything.  The captain poses the possibility that the man they seek could have jumped ship in Cherbourg.  Samuel agrees, but hasn’t even brought that up to Margarita, asking the captain to refrain as well.  
     Margarita tells Samuel, “I was thinking, if we do find Jack Pendleton, he’s sure to give us what we want, because if he doesn’t, we’ll simply throw him back in the sea again.”  Words of the sort so typical of her husband James.   
     After some time of searching, James tells Margarita that the ship might be in La Rochelle, and they might miss it even if they go back.  Margarita is not ready to give up hope, and enfolds the cross on her necklace in her hands to pray.
     The captain is impatient in what seems to him a fruitless search, but Samuel is not inclined to override Margarita in her desperate hope for her husband, who is also Samuel’s uncle.  

     Mr. van der Rheeder comes to the office James and Elizabeth share, run by Dunwoody.  He claims to be “very worried about Mr. Onedin.  As we both know, the shipping world is based on trust, and a reputation can be so easily destroyed.  I’m distressed to think that Mr. Onedin has so many ships lying idle.”
     “Mr. Onedin has weathered worse storms than this, sir,” Dunwoody assures him (he would do, whether he believed it or not).  
     “Ah, but this time he is on the lee shore [reference to being dangerously blown ashore, run aground], and I think he needs assistance.  I may be able to help him . . . Idle ships are of little use to a man in prison, aren’t they?  I think by now he must be running short of funds.  I might be prepared to take these 6 ships off his hands.”  He hands a list to Dunwoody, 
     “I see, and what sort of figure would you be offering?”  Dunwoody asks.
    “£3000.”  “What? . . . £500 a ship?  That’s a ridiculous figure, sir.”
     “I didn’t ask you for your opinion, Dunwoody.  Just pass the offer on to Onedin,” and Max turns to go.  But Dunwoody comes out from behind his clerk’s desk saying, “No, sir.”  Max then turns, “What did you say?”  “I shall not show this to Mr. Onedin, sir, nor will I even mention it to him.”
     Max comes back toward Dunwoody with, “I think you must be forgetting your place, Dunwoody.”
     “Oh no, sir.  You may have duped poor Mr. Dawkins, sir, but you will not dupe me.  This is what I think of your offer . . .” he tears it up and strides over to the door to open it for Max to leave.  Now we may conjecture that having seen James’ reaction to Dawkin’s foolish betrayal, Dunwoody doesn’t want to lose his job.  But that seems unfair to Dunwoody.  He knows his employers’ attitude toward Max van der Rheede (contempt), but he has a contempt for him of his own, and he knows he will be backed up by his employers.
    
     Samuel’s wife Caroline returns with Lady Fogarty to her parlor, where the butler Gladwyn has a gleaming silver tea service ready.  “You ride well,” Elizabeth compliments Caroline.  “I may not be a ranch girl, but I was taught to make a horse do what I want,” Caroline boasts.
     “Humans, too?” Elizabeth asks, “I only meant a husband may not be so compliant.”  There’s a certain irony for Elizabeth to talk so.
     “Oh, I’m ambitious for Samuel.  I’ll not deny it.  But then, aren’t you?” Caroline admits and asks.  “Only inasmuch as he is for himself.”  Thus speaks an aunt, rather than the wife.
     “I hope you’re not saying he’s so weak he can be persuaded into doing something he doesn’t want,” Caroline confronts her husband’s aunt.  Of course we know that Samuel was so influenced by Charlotte when he was younger, but we expect that he has grown some since then.
     “I am saying it would be a mistake to try,” Elizabeth hands a cup of tea to Caroline.  “Why indeed it would,” Caroline replies upon taking it.  “I really miss Samuel, you know.  I hope he won’t be away much longer.  Must be hard for you, being parted from Sir Daniel for so long . . . I haven’t met him yet.  I certainly look forward to that.”  No surprise there.  Hobnobbing with the upper classes suits her well.
     “Well you may not have to wait much longer.  It seems he’s thinking of resigning his position,” Elizabeth tells her.  “Giving up the Ambassadorship?!” Caroline is amazed at the notion.  “And resigning his seat [in Parliament],” Elizabeth adds.  “Seems he’s giving up politics altogether.”
     “Really?” Caroline sees it in such a different light from Elizabeth, who says almost to herself, “He’s coming home.”

     At last the captain tells Margarita, “There’s 2 hours more of daylight.  I’ll keep up a search until dark, then that’s it.  Sorry, ma’am, but I’ve done all I can.”  It’s amazing that the captain would think he could order the owner in such a case, but he does.  James has point out many times that the captain is the authority aboard ship, but he’s also overridden his captains at times.  And in this case, where it’s the wife seeking desperately to help her husband, the captain’s boss, his attitude comes across as indifference.
     “Don’t apologize to me, Captain.  Apologize to my husband when they convict him of something he didn’t do,” Margarita invokes the powerful image of her husband’s reputation over the years, a powerful man, as well as now a man sitting unjustly imprisoned.  She then turns and walks swiftly away.
     “I’ve done everything I can, sir,” the captain justifies himself to Samuel, who is right there.  “Mr. Onedin’s in enough trouble as it is, without me wasting more of his money needlessly.”  James had objected to the £50,000 ransom they’d paid for his release, would he object now to so much less a sum for his release?  With the prospect of watching his shipping line, his life’s work, waste away?  It’s different when it’s not so far distant. 
     “I’ll talk to Mrs. Onedin.  Explain matters,” Samuel tells the captain.
     But just then, the man on watch aloft sights a distress rocket.  Samuel, the captain, Margarita and another crewman all rush to the starboard bow to see.  “Helmsman, 2 points to starboard,” the captain yells out, and calls out for more sails.
     “I can’t see them,” Margarita strains to look.  “Well, they’re too low in the water yet.  You will,” Samuel assures her.
     What’s left of the crew of the “Bridget Mayland“ see their ship, and begin to yell as loud as they can,  such weakened, wretched wrecked selves.  The captain calls for the sails to be taken down (so they don’t endanger or pass by the little boat, and that the boarding ladder be readied.  When they come alongside, he orders, “Right.  Get those men out of there as fast as you can . . . “  
     Samuel comes over to ask about the cook.  He’s in the bottom of the boat . . . 

     “Was he able to say nothing?” Elizabeth asks, once the search/rescue party return.  “He never regained his senses.  When they had to abandon ship, a falling spar hit him on the head.  They dragged him out of the water, but he never spoke again,” Margarita tells Elizabeth and Charlotte.
     “Oh, James.  What more can we do?” Elizabeth says to her absent brother and to herself.  Charlotte begins to sob, and leaves.  Margarita starts to follow her, but Elizabeth gently stops her, to allow Charlotte her private grief. 
     “’Scuse me, ma’am, but a man, a seaman, by the look of ‘im, came asking to give you this.  ‘e said it was urgent, but he wouldn’t wait for no reply,” Mrs. Gibson hands the letter to Margarita.  She walks over to her writing desk and employs her letter opener.  She reads:
     “Dear Mrs. Onedin . . . there aren’t many people who have been kind to me in my life, but you being one, I want to tell you everything . . .” Margarita turns over the letter to see the signature.  “Betsy.”  “But I have never known any Betsy,” she tells Elizabeth who waits anxious to hear what the letter is about.
     “Letty did . . . Betsy used to work for her.  I can only presume she didn’t know Letty had died,” Elizabeth postulates, so Margarita holds the letter out to her to read:
     “I want to tell you everything.  It was on the ship that brought me here that I heard 2 of the crew talking about what had happened.  Then I knew . . . For what he’s done to me, I hope he burns in hell.  That necklace was mine, given to me by a gentleman friend.  It was me who gave it to Max van der Rheede, ‘cause like a fool, I loved him.  I didn’t know what he wanted it for, but I do know now.  That’s why he got rid of me.  Sold me to a white slaver.  ‘Cause of the kindness you did me, I hope this letter helps your husband, and helps make that wicked-hearted Max pay for what he’s done.  Remember me, your friend, Betsy.”  Elizabeth hands the letter back to Margarita.
     “But surely, this is all we need to free James,” Margarita is filled with fresh hope after the great disappointment looking for Pendleton.  
     “I don’t think a court would accept it as evidence, but at least we know there’s no more doubt.  And that man is going to pay,” Elizabeth vows.

     Samuel leaving the prison holding James, sees Capt. Baines, calls to him, and Capt. Baines comes over to his carriage.
     “I’ve just been to visit my uncle.”  “I thought so, ‘ow is ‘e?”  “Much as one would expect.”  “It’s a wicked, cruel thing, a man like him being shut up in there,” Baines the seaman, the friend of over 20 years knows, “ I mean, when are they going to let ‘im go, sir?  They’ll ‘ave to, won’t they?” Baines states more than asks, but wants to be assured.  
     “We don’t know.  Are you on your way to visit him?”  “Oh, no.  I don’t reckon I could do that,” Baines says in a low voice.  “Oh, why ever not?” Samuel wonders.  “’e wouldn’t wanna see me,” Baines supposes.  “I think you’d find that you’re mistaken.  Only a short step from here.  Be a shame to have come this far only to go home again.”  Samuel leaves that for Capt. Baines to think on, as he climbs into his carriage.  Capt. Baines starts on his way.
     In order to more effectively affect Baines, Samuel says to the retreating old man, “Did you know that we caught up with Pendleton?”  Baines turns back with alacrity, “No.”   But Samuel’s news is discouraging.  “He died before we could speak to him.  Storm.  Spar broke loose, killed him.”  How very Dickensian this episode.
     “Have you just told ‘im that?” Baines asks.  Samuel acknowledges with a nod.  “Well, he’ll likely be needing someone to kick . . . and it might as well be me.”  Capt. Baines has suffered a lot of verbal abuse from James’ anger at other misfortunes in his life, as he has been wont to take out his anger on others.  But that is not the man who sits in prison now.
     Samuel smiles as Baines walks away, content that he has effected the start of the reconciliation between the 2 men he has perhaps admired most in his life.  “Drive on, please,” Samuel instructs his driver.
     James is lying on his bunk, just lying.  When Capt. Baines comes in, without making to get up, he says, “Wondered how long it’d take.”
     Baines chuckles, “ I thought you’d’ve been up the chimney and out by now.”  Considering all the times the two of them escaped from being ransomed, ships nearly or fully impounded, and other misadventures.  “What chimney?” James says in a subdued voice.  “Well, tunnel, then,” Baines amends his assessment.  James acknowledges with a “hmm, hmm.”
     “Well, how’s the world treating you?” James asks.  Capt. Baines looks around, “Better than you, I reckon.”  “Well that wouldn’t be difficult [and yet there are actually far worse things that can and do happen to people in this world].”  
     “I, uh . . . I heard about Jack Pendleton.  I’m sorry.”  James finally exerts himself to sit up.  “Aye.  I’m not sure it would make much difference.  Cook with a stolen necklace?  Got the whole of the galley to hide it in.  I’d’ve put it in a tub of flour if I’d been ‘im.”
     “Where did ‘e put it?” Baines asks.  “Where it was found was in the saloon,” James tells him.  “So that’s why you thought I’d done it, ‘cause you saw me there.”
     “I never said anything,” James begins before Baines ends, “Not to anyone.”  “But you thought it, though,” Baines is sure.  “Did wonder,” James admits with a quick cock of the head.  
     “Well, it wasn’t.” Capt. Baines says in a low voice, “but I . . . I don’t blame you.”  Capt. Baines has had time to work through his trauma over the loss of Tom, his own guilt, his projection of that guilt onto James (who of course had his own share, as he admitted).
     “Hmm hmm.  Even if it had’ve been, I wouldn’t ‘ave blamed you, either.”  Thus, the two men are reconciled.  Neither railing nor blaming the other.  Even if Baines was guilty, James would not have charged him with the crime, nor even mentioned the possibility of Baines’ guilt.
     “Anyway, it wasn’t.”  “No, I know it wasn’t.”  “Still . . . can’t fathom out a ship’s cook hiding sommat inside a rolled-up chart,” James reasons.  
     Capt. Baines chuckles wryly, until suddenly he realizes something, “Here.  I took some charts on board that day.  That was one of the reasons I was there,” he says as he sits himself on the stool in the cell.  “I ‘ad them in my lodgings, but they belonged to the ship.  Now which chart was that necklace found in?”
     “Coast of New South Wales,” James answers quickly.  He would notice such a thing.  “Now you sure?” Baines asks.  “Mmm-hmm,” James answers affirmatively.  “’Cause I seem to remember . . . I think that was one of the charts I ‘ad with me.”
     “I wondered if it was,” James has had a lot of time to think about things.  “Here, what are you saying?” Baines’ ire is raised.  “Nowt.”  “Oh yes you are.  You’re sayin’ . . .”
     “I’m not sayin’ anything!  I’m just askin’.  Did anyone know you were bringing that chart back?” James asks.  Baines answers with a solid, “No.”  But then he reconsiders, “Here.  Wait a minute.  I told Max van der Rheede,” Baines stands up again, “And it was after that ‘e came to my lodgings, askin’ to see me.”
     This is getting more and more of interest to James.  “And did he see ya?”
     “No, I wasn’t there,”  Capt. Baines exhales as if it would expel the truth.  “’ow long’ve you known it was ‘im?”
     “I’ve ‘ad my suspicions for some time.  I’ve ‘ad plenty o’ time to think.  Nowt much else to do.”  “Why didn’tcha say something before, damn ya!” Baines exclaims.  “B’cause I didn’t know whether ‘e paid ya or tricked ya!  Just been waitin’ ‘ere for you to come, so’s I’d know.” James gets up, face to face, “Only I didn’t reckon it’d take ya so long, damn ya!”  Only those of long acquaintance can speak so to one another without misunderstanding.  The two exchange expressions that express their mutual feelings.

     Dressed in formalwear, Samuel and his wife Caroline visit his aunt Lady Fogarty.  When Elizabeth excuses herself for a moment, Caroline comes to Samuel to ask, “Why don’t you say something to her?”  “Because it’s too soon,” he replies.  “Not a-tall.  There’s a lot of work to be done if you want to take advantage of the opportunity . . . Well you do, don’t you?”
     Samuel breaths out, “Dammit, Uncle Daniel may’ve resigned as Ambassador Extraordinary, but he certainly hasn’t officially announced that he’s goin’ to resign from Parliament.”  “Well Elizabeth seems in no doubt that he will.”  “Not, I would think, until he gets home.”  Samuel pours Caroline a drink from a  decantered spirit.
     “You must still make yourself ready, save them having to even look for a candidate . . . What was Daniel’s majority?”  “Large enough,” Samuel states solidly.  “I like it better and better.  A safe seat that passes from uncle to nephew?  Like a family business.”
     “Election campaigns cost a lot of money,” Samuel objects.  “Oh, we’ll sell something,” she strategizes.  “Oh no we won’t,” Samuel negates it.  “Something of mine,” she offers, “. . . I don’t know . . . oh yes I do . . . I was left a large concession of South American nitrates.  Why not sell that.”
       “Oh, that’s valuable stuff, nitrate,” Samuel recognizes.  She scoffs.  “Had it been that valuable, I doubt it would have been left to me.”  Is she out of favor?  Did her father mistrust her new husband?  Was it some other relative?
     Elizabeth returns with Capt. Baines on her arm.  He’s not looking the man he was.  After a brief greeting, Elizabeth tells her nephew, “Capt. Baines has something of importance to tell you, Samuel.  It seems he’s been searching everywhere.”
     “I beg pardon for intruding, sir, but I thought you’d want to know straight away.”  “Would you care to join us in a brandy, Captain?” Elizabeth offers and he accepts.  “Remember that conversation we ‘ad some time back about a necklace? . . . I denied all knowledge of it, well I wasn’t lying to ya.  But the way it looks now, it seems that it must’ve been me that took that necklace aboard Mr. Onedin’s ship, without realizing I was doin’ it.  Completely innocent-like.”

     The jailor comes in as James is shaving, “Mornin’ Captain.  Another young lady to see you.  A different Mrs. Onedin.”  One may smile at what the jailor might think James’ marital affairs.  Margarita comes in, puts her black veil aside, saying, “James . . . oh, my James.”  She comes to him, kisses him, and he can’t help himself but to respond to her embrace.
     “Oh, I had to come.  I’m sorry, but I had to.”  No doubt finding out that Charlotte had been to see him, she was emboldened to disregard his prohibition.  “Do you forgive me?”  How could he resist?  “Well, after a greeting like that, be a fool not to,” and he kisses her again.  
     “Oh, let me see you,” she says as she opens a space between them.  “You are still beautiful to me.”  And no doubt her beauty, and his love for her, affect more than his eyes.  
     “Beautiful . . . I can’t say I feel that beautiful,” he sits on his bunk, pulling her down to sit next to him.  “Feel a lot better, though, for seeing you.”  Had he known how her presence would help, he might have allowed her sooner, but now he’s to a point where he can hardly be unhappy about her being there.
     “Wait a moment,” she says and gets up, goes across the cell, looks through the barred window of  the door before bending down and pulling a small revolver from her laced-up shoe.  
     “What are you doing!” he asks with alarm.  “Take it!  It’s loaded and it works,” she tells him.  “For God’s sake, Margarita . . . “  “We can go anywhere,” she thinks.  “You’re not in Guyada now, you’re in England,” he makes a distinction.
     “This is your only chance.  I can go anywhere with you.  But I cannot go to prison with you.  Now take it!”  Luckily there’s no guard in hearing distance of her animated importunity.  “No,” he laughs with irony.  “For my sake!”  “For your sake, put that thing away!”  He takes it from her and bends down to put it back where she got it, “before the jailor sees it and dies of fright.”  
     She crouches down to his level, “You are impossible.  I am offering you freedom!”  “Aye, dangling at the end of a rope.”  If she were a hundred years later, one might think she had watched too many Westerns.  He takes her by the shoulders as he pulls her up standing with himself.  “Go home, take that silly thing with you, and get rid of it.”
     “Oh James, they will sentence you to years of prison.  Don’t you understand?”  But she doesn’t understand.  “No, you’re wrong.  Listen to me, trust me,” he invites with his hands on her shoulders.  “I’m going to walk out of here legally,” he at last has hope.  “My friend Baines will make sure of that.”

     “Are you accusing us of something, Captain?” Baines’ landlady asks, offended.  “No, I’m just askin’” Capt. Baines almost mirrors what James had said to him.  
     “Who’s been in this room when I’ve not been ‘ere?”  “Nobody.”  “Oh, someone has.”  “Well, it wasn’t us, so mind your tongue.”  “Anyway, what’ve ya lost?” her husband asks.  “Oh, nothing,” Capt. Baines is back to himself again, in dress, in confidence . . .
     “It’s just somethin’ I found, and it don’t belong to me,” Capt. Baines says as he opens his trunk.  He pulls out something wrapped in black cloth.  “It’s either a piece of cut glass, or it’s a  diamond.”
     “Wherever did you find it?” the landlady asks.  “I had a lot of charts and things stacked in that corner.  Found it on the floor when I got rid of ‘em.”  “How would a sparkler get itself there?”  “If I knew that I wouldn’t be askin’, would I?”  
     “Well, ‘taint mine, though I could wish it was,” Baine’s landlady states truthfully.  “It’s a mystery, and I don’t like things not regular.  Best take it to the police, first thing tomorrow mornin’.”  Baines puts the fabric-wrapped “sparkler” back in his trunk with one of his hardly-a smiles.  He’s laid the trap.

     Night comes, and so does Mr. Swallow, but he’s got a candle, and stealthily enters Baines’ room with his key.  Once he’s got the gem out, Baines calls out suddenly, “Sparrow! . . . I’m sorry it’s you, Sparrow.  I wanted it to be your missus rather than you.”
     “It’s just my weakness, Will,” Sparrow pleads.  But Baines chuckles, “Oh, no.  You wanted that diamond particular, in case it matched the necklace.  Have the police recognize it.”
     Sparrow backs up right into Samuel, who asks, “How much did he pay you, Mr. Sparrow?”  Baines introduces Mr. Samuel Onedin.  “How much did who pay me?” Sparrow pretends innocence.  “The Dutchman,” Baines answers, “When ‘e came ‘ere askin’ to see me.  How much did he pay you to put that necklace in that chart.  Now listen, you’ve only got one arm, Sparrow, so when I hit you I’ll only use one of mine!” and Baines pulls his arm back as if he were drawing a bow.  
     “A signed confession, Mr. Sparrow.  Yes or no?” Samuel asks.  Sparrow nods his head in fright.

     “Good evening, Mr. van er Rheede,” Elizabeth greets him in a friendly voice as he enters her parlor.  “Lady Fogarty,” he gives a quick bow of the head.  He and Samuel exchange one another’s name as greetings.  “Would you care for a drink, Mr. van der Rheede?”  Meanwhile the butler quietly locks the door and takes the key.   
      Elizabeth asks Samuel to take care of the spirits.  
     “Samuel’s letter spoke of a most profitable business arrangement, but dare I hope, Lady Fogarty, that this might also mean a reconciliation between us?  Just to be here, a guest in your house is such a privilege and a pleasure.”
     In contrast to her friendly greetings, Elizabeth’s voice is cold, now the door’s locked.  “It’s no pleasure to me, sir, though I believe the outcome may be.”  
     Samuel and Elizabeth confront Max with both the letter from Betsy and the confession of Mr. Sparrow.  They point out that he is locked in, “Give us what we want, or you won’t leave until the constables arrive.”  It’s a case of the stick and the carrot as Samuel offers that  he’ll be given 2 days’ lead to leave the country before they turn in their evidence.  At last, Max accepts the terms with, “You damned Onedins.”  It’s the Onedin Line(age).  

     A bottle is uncorked, Margarita expresses her happiness to her husband for his freedom, and the room full of family celebrate James’ release.  “I thank God so much,” Margarita says, and James reminds her, “Told’ya it’d be alright, didn’t I?  There now, see?” he says as they embrace, and he turns to put an arm round Charlotte, “And I’m right proud of you, too, lass.  I am.”
     Samuel proposes a toast, “To Uncle James and Capt. Baines.”  James lifts his champagne, “Here’s to you, Will, and the rest of ya.  Best family a man could have.”  “Why not, then, yes.  Here’s to all of us, the family,” Samuel and all lift their glasses. 
      Charlotte and Samuel exchange a look and a smile as they say, “Family”.  Elizabeth notices that, and says to Samuel, “I’m sorry Caroline can’t be here.”  “Yes, um, a headache,” Samuel looks down, away from the family.  
     Capt. Baines deflects the awkwardness by asking James, “Well how does it feel to be a free man, sir?”  “I’m not, Will . . . I’m still on bail . . .”
     Samuel hands James Max’s confession to give to the magistrate.  “I thought he’d been arrested,” James responds.  Samuel admits that he’d agreed to give the man 2 days’ grace.  James is almost dumbfounded.  “Where is ‘e?”  “Took ship for Holland this morning,” Baines informs him.  
     “You mean to say you let ‘im get away?”  Samuel defends his bargain by saying it was the only way to get the confession.  “I don’t care what it was.  He was quite willing to see me rot in prison!  How many hours start has he got?” James asks Baines.  “About 6,” comes the reply. “Have we any ships ready to sail?” James asks Elizabeth, and Charlotte answers “Yes,” with enthusiasm, “Yes, the ‘Soren Larson”.”
     “Right then.  Baines, are you coming?” James asks.  “But Uncle, I gave my word,” Samuel protests,   “Did’ya B’heck? Well I didn’t’ give him mine!”  “Aunt Elizabeth!” Samuel seeks her alliance, but she tells him, “I side with James.”
     They sail after the fugitive.  (Interesting note is the sluicing of the sails).  Elizabeth reminds James he’s breaking his bail.  “Damn me bail, I want van der Rheede.”  They catch up just as they are about to cross into Dutch waters.  Baines notes that the captain of the other ship is “honest as they come.”  Speaking through megaphones, James and Baines lay out Max’s crimes.  At first he tries to deny, then to bribe (that doesn’t go well), then to jump and swim for it.  But James orders a boat lowered, and the theme and credits put an end to Max van der Rheede.

S8 E9-- James & Margarita negotiate trade to last 20 yrs, Margarita bears James a son he names Will
     “He needs to go to sea again, Margarita, blow away that smell of prison,” Elizabeth understands.  “Yes, I told him so,” Margarita agrees, “Believe me, I’m not holding him back, Elizabeth.  But James is worried about something else, I think.”
     “Business,” Elizabeth understands this too.  “He lost both money and reputation when he went to prison.  And if I know James, right now he’s doing his best to get them both back.”  Elizabeth looks over at James a little way off, sitting on a driftwood log, smoking a cigar and writing in the sand with a stick—50,000.
     “Does he regret sending Max to jail?” Elizabeth asks her sister-in-law.  “No.  He is still angry with that man for what he did.”
     Elizabeth and Margarita are sitting pretty on chairs, Samuel on the sand leaning against a picnic basket.  “Pity Caroline [Samuel’s new wife] couldn’t come,” Elizabeth mentions.  “Yes,” Samuel agrees.  “Does she suffer much from headaches?” Elizabeth asks, no doubt knowing the answer and the reason.  “Hmm.  Only when . . .” Samuel breaks off to avoid speaking of the reason, but continues, “Well, um, they do tend to come and go  rather quickly, Aunt.”  
     “But we’ll be seeing her at dinner?” Elizabeth supposes.  “Oh yes, I should think so,” Samuel also supposes.

     At dinner, James and Samuel are discussing business.  Everyone is dressed in formal attire.
     “£25,000.  You can’t seriously expect me to . . .” Samuel is saying when James interrupts with, “It’s all I can afford, lad.”  “But you see the report.  There’s damn nigh on half a million tons of nitrates sitting there.”  “Aye, and every ounce of it got to be humped around the Horn.”  “Even so, you could still end up making a fortune!  I thought to do you a favor,” Samuel uses a similar argument from his uncle’s arsenal when doing business deals with family members.  He’s learned a lot from the man.
     “Yes, well I do appreciate it, but, uh, look.  Why don’t you offer it around?  I’m sure you’ll find a buyer,” James has more tactics up his sleeve.  “Come on, let’s join the ladies,” James starts to walk away.  Samuel reaches for him, “Look, hold hard, Uncle.  Look, I know you’ve taken a knock.  I appreciate things haven’t been going so well.  So . . . [he sighs, and James is smiling], well, if the family can’t help out in time of trouble . . .”
     “You mean you’ll accept the £25,000?” James, the elder negotiator asks.  Samuel, the quick-learning understudy answers, “Mmm.  It’s a sacrifice, but then I know you’d do the same for me.  Call it a deal, shall we?”  “Course I’ll need time to pay,” James extends his hand on it.  “What?  How long?” Samuel asks.  “Well, a year at least,” James answers.
     “Oh no, no, no, Uncle.  Um, 6 months at the most,” Samuel negotiates.  James puts on the face of considering, “You’re a hard man, Samuel.  Your father’d be proud of you.  Very well, then, 6 months.  Done,” James again extends his hand.  Samuel gives it a slap of agreement.
     As James and Samel have rejoined the ladies, Samuel’s wife Caroline says, “And then I thought, ‘Well, why not?’  When Uncle Daniel resigns, they’ll need another candidate for the bi-election.   I just know that Samuel would make a truly splendid member of Parliament.  And who can say where that might lead?”
     “Well it would certainly keep it in the family, but as a Liverpool man, you’ll have a hard battle on your hands,” Elizabeth directs toward Samuel.  “But surely the fact that Samuel owns 2 mills in Manchester will count for something,” Caroline poses.  “Only if he shouts it from the rooftops so everyone knows it.”  “Don’t worry, I’ll see that he does,” Caroline the ambitious replies confidently.
     “The main thing is, will Uncle Daniel sponsor me?” Samuel interposes, “His recommendation would count a great deal.”  “I’ll write to him tonight,” Elizabeth promises.  “Oh splendid.  Then I shall look to you all for active support.”
     “Well you can certainly have my good wishes, Samuel, for what they’re worth, but I doubt I shall be here to witness your triumph,” James reveals, even to his wife Margarita, who asks, “What is this?”  “Well, we’re going to South America,” he tells her, and all.  “When?” Elizabeth asks.  “In a couple of days.”  “And you never thought to tell Margarita?” Elizabeth takes her part.
     “Oh dammit, woman, Samuel and meself only shook ‘ands on it afore dinner,” James excuses himself.  “How long will you be gone?” Margarita asks with concern.  “Well, 10, 12 months,” James admits.  “Twelve months?  Then I am coming with you,” Margarita says decisively.  “Ah, no Margarita.  Look, if it were anywhere else . . .” Except Africa, or . . . no doubt any number of places.  “I am coming with you, James,” Margarita refuses to accept his decision.  “Look, we’re rounding the Horn twice.  Now that’s some of the roughest stretch of water in the world,” James explains.  “You may talk until you are black in the face, my mind is made up,” Margarita insists.
     “Good for you, Margarita,” Elizabeth is ever the champion of standing up to James, and men in general.
     “You keep your nose out of this, Elizabeth,” James growls at her.  “Don’t you take that tone with me, James,” Elizabeth stands up to her brother.
     “Look, to put it bluntly, you would be an encumbrance, dear,” James speaks honestly, but perhaps also thinking more convincingly, to his wife.  
     “Oh, so I am an encumbrance now, am I?” Margarita has heard enough couple arguments in front of the family that she is not afraid of having one herself.  “Now Margarita, I might have known you’d take it the wrong way . . .” James pleads with his wife in a sense.  But she is worked up now, “Look, you don’t even speak one word of Spanish.”  “What on earth has that got to do with it?  If you are going to South America, I can speak Spanish for you.”
     At the same time Elizabeth has a question she wants answered, “Does this deal involve Frazers?” she asks Samuel, but one can’t hear his reply, nor her response in turn for the commotion between James and Margarita.  Caroline is apparently overwhelmed at such goings on.  She stands with a sigh, and bangs the silver service with the ornate coffee pot.  “Would anyone like some more coffee?”  All goes quiet.
     
     “Well, the figures are absolutely correct, Capt. Baines,” Dunwoody pronounces with the books before him at his desk in the office.  “Have you any idea why Mr. Onedin wanted them so urgently?”  “No, ‘e . . . he just told me to find out our total assets and income,” Capt. Baines in his uniform stands to say.  “Only it crossed my mind he might be considering selling up.”
     Baines leans forward to say with concern, “’Ere, ‘ave you ‘eard something I ‘aven’t, Mr. Dunwoody?”  “No, no . . . but then, uh, Mr. Onedin does make a habit of being secretive [closed mouth], doesn’t he?”  “Yeah [Baines knows perfectly well about that, over the years], well, he just told me to make sure the ‘Soren Larsen’ was provisioned for a long trip.”  No specific time period?  “Ah . . . perhaps one last voyage before he swallows the anchor [quits sailing],” Dunwoody conjectures.  “Well, ‘tis a possibility, isn’t it?” after the disaster to his businesses, and at his age (likely late 50s), Dunwoody can’t imagine James starting all over.

     “Sell 18 ships?!” Elizabeth loudly questions, “James, you can’t be serious.”  “Never been more serious in me life,” James replies as they discuss the matter quite vocally in their joint office.  “Dispose of three-quarters of a fleet!” she drops to the chair at her desk.  “Look.  We sell 18 small ships, buy 4 big ones,” he explains with animation as he stands across from her.  Meanwhile Dunwoody stands at the side perusing a booklet regarding the plans.
     “Eventually we shall have a fleet of 10 big ships,” James continues as he leans over her desk.  “Look, without so much as a word of consultation, you propose to alter the entire structure of the company.  Well I’m not sure I can agree to that,” Elizabeth objects.  “Well I don’t care whether you agree or not,” James reveals once again what kind of business partner he is:  essentially a sole owner.
     “Look.  For the best part of my life I’ve been grubbing around brokers, merchants, picking up whatever cargo I could get.  Well now that is all over.  I’ve bought half a million tons of nitrate.  It should take me best part of 20 years to shift it, during which time the Onedin Line will have made a profit of nigh on £2 million.  Now, if the Frazer Line wants nowt to do with it, let’s just shake hands on it , end the amalgamation here and now,” James offers her his hand.
     “The trouble with you, James, is you take people too literally.  I was only advising caution,” she gives herself a way out.  She knows too well the shrewdness of James’ business sense.  “Do you have any thoughts on the matter, Dunwoody? She asks her chief clerk, with long years of experience.  
     “Well, in principle, the scheme appears sound enough, my lady.  There’ll always be a ready market for nitrate [chief uses:  fertilizers & explosives—agriculture and war are endemic].  Uh, I take it that you’ve already paid for the nitrate, sir . . .”
     James chuckles wryly, “No yet.”  “What?” Elizabeth questions, “Well you’re not looking to me for the money, I trust.”  “Well of course not,” James acts as though he has never done so, then amends, “Not all of it.”  “Oh really, James.  Did I ask you to contribute to the building of the ‘William Frazer’ [steamship named in honor of her late son]?”  “All I’m talking about is a token payment!” James minimizes.
     She knows him too well.  “How much of a token payment?”  “Well . . . £25,000,” he admits.  “Twenty five . . . you call that a token payment?” Elizabeth isn’t taken in by his token payment.  Dunwoody adds as back-up, “And we are rather stretched at the moment, my lady.”  “No, it’s out of the question, James.”
     “I’m offering you a million pounds profit, and ya quibble at coughing up a mere £25,000?  Tch! . . . All right then, split it over 6 months,” James, knowing he has that much time to pay Samuel, “concedes”.  Elizabeth turns quickly to look at Dunwoody, who gives her the nod, so she tells her brother, “Very well.  Six months it is, then,” she smiles.  “You’ve made a wise investment,” he congratulates her with a kiss on the cheek, and winks at Dunwoody.
     Capt. Baines comes in, “Morning, sir.”  “Morning, Will,” James uses his given name.  “There’s a man down on the dock wanting to load timber, is that right?”  “Ah, damn me, I completely forgot to tell you about it,” James has been busy sewing up his deals.  “Pity you didn’t [tell].  Deck cargo, is it?” Will asks.  “No, no, no, it can all go below.  We’ll not be taking anything this trip.  By the way, do you think we can catch the morning tide tomorrow?”

     Elizabeth comes into her parlor, her small grand piano top filled with silver framed pictures of her loved ones.  She opens a letter from her husband, Sir Daniel, out in Turkey:
     My dearest, dearest Elizabeth, I can hardly wait to set pen to paper and let you share the good news I received but 2 minutes ago:  a letter from Salisbury himself.  He not only accepts my resignation, but much more to the point, promises faithfully to appoint my successor by next April at the latest.  By the spring, we shall be together.  Isn’t it quite ridiculous that we have spent so many years apart?  And equally ridiculous that only now have I come to realize how great is my love and my need for you, for without you, life holds nothing for me.  Your devoted, Daniel.

     James & Baines set sail for South America.  Capt. Baines tells James, for our information, “Those shore lights we saw yesterday will be the last we see for a long time.  We’re just south of the Scillys here [archipelago  off the SW tip of Cornwall],” he points on the chart, but James isn’t looking, he’s sitting to the side of the table reading a book.  “What you readin?” Baines asks, and James shows the cover of the book, “King Solomon’s Mines” [popular novel pub. 1885], a good yarn, that.”  “Sometimes wonder where these authors get their ideas from,” James comments, perhaps an ironic comment of the writers.
     “Capt. Baines! . . .” Blagdon comes down to announce, “Stowaway, sir.  ‘idin’ be’ind all that timber in the ‘old.  And it’s a woman, sir.  Come on down ‘ere, you.”  Margarita  comes down pleading, “Please don’t be angry, James . . .”  “How on earth did you get aboard?” James confronts her in nearly a whisper, but not a gentle one.
     “Well, it was when the sailors were all saying goodbye to their wives.  I . . . I just walked on,” she explains.  “You just walked on . . .” James is about to get wound up.   He gives an accusing look at Capt. Baines, who defends himself with, “I ‘aven’t got eyes in the back of my ‘ead.”
     “Oh, James, you must not blame Capt. Baines,” Margarita speaks on his behalf.  “Ah, Elizabeth put you up to this?” James suspects, because Elizabeth applauded Margarita insisting she accompany her husband.  “No.  I remembered Samuel telling me how he once stowed away.  It seemed so easy.”
     “Stupid brainless things to do!” James isn’t gentle when he’s worried.  “You might have been killed.”  “Oh no, James.  I was quite safe,” she thinks.  “Oh, safe, eh?  What if that timber had shifted?  You’d have been killed.  None of us any the wiser!”  “’e’s right, ma’am,” Capt. Baines concurs.
     “I’m sorry.  I did not think,” she admits her ignorance.  “Yeah, think . . . all you could think about was ‘ow clever you was being,” he grouches at her harshly.  “Well, I was clever, wasn’t I?  At least I am here and not in Liverpool.”
     “You realize all I ‘ave to do is put into the Azores . . . put you ashore?” James lets her know.  “Oh no, James, don’t send me back!  Capt. Baines, speak to him!  James I need to be with you!  Don’t send me back, please!” she puts her arms around his neck as any child would cling to a parent, pleading to stay.
     “Well . . . very well,” James relents, “I won’t send ya back.  Come the Azores, you’ll be pleading to be sent back.”  “Oh no, never, never!  Thank you, thank you,” she again puts her arms around his neck, then runs up the steps with, “I brought a bag.  I’ll go and get it.”  Hopefully one of the crewmen will retrieve it for her.
     “Your missus has certainly got a will of ‘er own,” Capt. Baines comments. “Aye, well so ‘ave I,” James doesn’t have to tell anyone, not the least Capt. Baines.  “I want ya to sail this ship as hard as you can.  I want to see those scuppers awash,” he instructs Baines.

     James comes up to Margarita in the wind at the side of the deck, “My word we were up early this mornin’, lass.”  He puts his arm around her in a gently taunting way, “How you feelin’?”  “Not very well, I’m afraid,” she admits, “But it will pass.”  “Yes, course it will,” he condescends, “You’ll soon find your sea legs.”  He takes a deep breath with folded arms, leaning against the rail, “Here, I think I can smell bacon cookin’ in the galley.  Come on.  Just the thing to perk you up.”  She doesn’t follow, so he turns back to say, “Oh, if I was you, I’d go to the other side of the ship,” considering that a fair warning.  She’s not amused.

     “Aunt Elizabeth,” Samuel comes bursting into her office to say, “Look.  I’ve got it . . . My official acceptance as candidate.”  “Well, well. So Daniel’s recommendation did the trick.  Congratulations,” she gives him a congratulatory peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Elizabeth,” he looks pleased, walks around to the other side of the desk, across from her.  “You know when Uncle Daniel was elected, he had that canal scheme to help him.  Well, these are difficult times [as always seems the case].  Caroline feels I need a message that will appeal to both heart and head.”
     “I think she’s right,” Elizabeth advises.  “Yes.  Something like, uh . . . oh, time of trouble, laying off married men with families last.  I b’lieve it’s an idea you’ve advocated?”  “Not advocated, Samuel, practiced.”  “Yes, of course.  I wondered, uh . . . well, naturally I’d give credit where credit is due, but uh . . .”  “But you think my idea might sound better coming from the mouth of a Manchester mill owner like yourself?” she knows what he’s getting at.  “Certainly wouldn’t do me any harm, would it?” 
     “That Caroline’s idea?” Elizabeth surmises.  “Yes.”  “Samuel, you’ll forgive me for asking, but is it really you who wants to go into politics?” she asks.  “Oh, I’m well aware of Caroline’s ambitions, Aunt Elizabeth.  Fortunately, they fit me like a glove.”  “Are you sure?”  “Yes.  Thank you Aunt Elizabeth,” he rises and leaves.
     When he comes to the outer office, Charlotte turns, thinking he’s Mr. Dunwoody she addresses him as such, ‘til she sees who it is.  “Good morning, Charlotte,” he greets her.  “Samuel,” she greets him in a friendly voice.  He walks toward her in his black business attire.  “Strange to see you working here.”  “Yes.  Silly, isn’t it?  I who had no head for business,” she chuckles.  
     “The children are well,” he offers, “You haven’t seen them.”  “I’ve been busy,” she excuses.  “Yes, I see, he turns, disappointed.  “Samuel . . .”  He turns back to listen.  “I think perhaps it’s best if I don’t see the children anymore.”  “Why ever not,” he asks gently.  She turns away, “Just let them forget me.  Let them think they’re like other children with one mother and father.”
     He walks over to her, “You’ve changed.”  She turns back toward him, “We both have.”  A moment of silence is broken when he says, “Look, we can’t talk about things here.  Why don’t we, uh . . . well, why don’t we dine together?”  “Do you think that would be wise?”  “There’s nothing wrong with a mother and father meeting to discuss their children, is there?”  “No.”  “Good.  Then we’ll meet in the very near future.”  He leaves smiling, she is left smiling.  It’s clear that they are each healing.

     James is on deck taking navigational readings, Capt. Baines is at table below with Margarita.  “Mr. Onedin will be down soon, Simon,” Capt. Baines tells the steward.  “So be ready to serve ‘is food piping ‘ot.”  He turns to Margarita to ask, “Want some more pudding, ma’am?”  “A third helping, Captain?  No thank you,” she answers.  He chuckles, “You know a month ago a sparrow would ‘ave starved on what you were eatin’.”  “Well, it just took me a long time to find my sea legs, that is all.”
     “Strange, that, isn’t it?  You’ve never suffered from seasickness before, ‘ave you?” Capt. Baines wonders about.  “No.  Perhaps it is something to do with that pneumonia I had,” she suggests.  “Yeah, yeah.  I never thought of that,” he takes her word for it.
     “And now, if you will excuse me, Captain, I think I will take a rest.”  One might wonder if she couldn’t wait a few minutes ‘til her husband comes down, but . . . Baines opens the door to her cabin for her, and promises, “I’ll make sure the men don’t make too much noise, ma’am.”  It appears he doesn’t actually dislike having a woman aboard after all, depending on who the woman is.
     James comes down, “Soon see what the clerk of the Horn has in store for us.”  “Glass is steady enough.  We’re not more than 300 miles from the Horn, I reckon,” Baines estimates.  Is that a couple days?  “Best clear the decks for action then,” James comments.  
     “Discharging the timber at Antofagasta, then?” Baines asks James.  “No . . . You know, Will, I reckon you ‘avent got a curious bone in your body.  All this voyage I’ve been wanting you to ask what this trip is about.”  Capt. Baines chuckles and turns, “I know you ‘ave, and that’s why I ‘aven’t asked.”  He takes a seat at the table, “All right.  What is this trip all about?”  “Nitrate, Will, nitrate.  I’ve bought ‘alf a million tons from Samuel at a knock-down price.  From now on the Onedin Line will concentrate just on the one cargo.”  All the eggs in one basket, Robert might have said.
     “Well, you’ll need big ships for bulk cargo like that,” Baines knows.  “Aye, all in ‘and [all lined up].  When we get back there shall be 10 of them there.  Smooth as silk:  we’ll go out with coal, come back with nitrate.  I reckon I won’t ‘ave to look for another cargo  for another 20 years,” James leans back with a satisfied smile.  
     Baines chuckles, “And ‘ere was me thinkin’ you was ‘ard pressed.”  Baines lets out a big breath.  “All right.  Where do we drop the ‘ook [anchor]?”  “’bout a hundred miles south of Antofagasta [N. Chile], where the Hambara River comes into the bay.”  Capt. Baines wants clarification, he gets up to get the map,“You show me on the chart . . . I hope to goodness that you’re wrong . . . Damn it, James.  You realize what you’ve done?  You’ve not made a fortune, you’ve just been and lost one!  . . . No wonder Mr. Samuel sold you that nitrate cheaply.  Why are you always so damned secretive?  Why couldn’t you’ve asked me first?  I’d ‘ave told ya not to touch it with a barge pole.”
     “Somethin’ wrong?” James asks innocently.  “Aye, your damn pigheadedness, that’s what’s wrong.  You go at everything like a bull at a gate [reference to bull fighting, a bull anxious to get to the cows, or if in America, at a rodeo].  And you’re always so damned cock-sure that you’re right.”
     James is enjoying this.  “You make me sound more like a farmer than a sailor.”  “Look, this is no laughing matter.  I know this bay, and I know this river.  It’s all silted up.  The nearest we can get this ship to the shore is a quarter of a mile.  And from there it’s half a fathom.  The only way we can get that nitrate on board is by rowing boat.”
     “Hmm.  Just as well I bought all that timber, then, isn’t it?” James says with his chin in hand.  “We can fill up buckets with nitrate an’ float ‘em out on the planks, can’t we?” Baines answers sarcastically.
     “Be easier to build a jetty,” one would think after planning Port Baines, Baines might have thought of this.  “Quarter of a mile long.  Good English oak planking.  Just run the nitrate along, straight into the hold.  Be loaded and away within the week,” James lays out the plan.
     “You mean you knew all along?” Baines is bested.  “I don’t part with ‘ard cash that easily,” James says what we all know.  “You’ve been deliberately ‘aving me on,” Baines complains.  “Aye.  Same as I ‘ave Samuel.  You know, I reckon ‘e’ll never make Prime Minister, that lad,” James leans back and grins.
     
     The sailors up top start preparing for stormy weather round the Horn of South America.  James is tying rope around Margarita’s bed.  “James, how long do I have to stay here?” she complains.  “As long as it takes us to get around the Horn . . . Now you tuck some of those around you,” he says as he tosses pillows over the canvas wall he has created around her bed.  “Don’t want you endin’ up with a cracked ‘ead.”  Perhaps he is remembering Anne ending up on the floor on her last voyage.
     “All this fuss,” Margarita fusses.  “I am a strong woman, you know.”  “I’ve told you, Margarita, we could be meeting waves as high as houses.”  That gives her pause.   “Oh, James, I do love you for taking care of me.”  She spontaneously rises up from the bed to put her arms round his neck and kiss him.  He’s not averse to that.

     But in the days before satellites and all kinds of forecasting information, seamen couldn’t know what the weather of Cape Horn (Tierra del Fuego) would be like, except maybe in general by season, and this is the calmest passage we’ve seen through the 8 seasons of The Onedin Line series.
     “James Onedin, do you mean to tell me I’ve been cooped up here all these days for nothing?” Margarita chides.  “Haven’t I just told you?  It’s the calmest passage that I’ve ever had.”  “You frightened me with your stories of the big, big seas, and yet nothing happens.  I think you just wanted me out of the way.”  Unfortunately, she won’t take him seriously in future.
     “Margarita, if you don’t pipe down, I’ll take ya on deck and chuck a bucket of water over ya,” he sounds like a man who’s over the honeymoon.  She throws a pillow at him with, “You would not dare.”  He turns round and comes for her, “Oh, wouldn’t I, eh?” and we see he hasn’t lost the newlywed playfulness after all.  

     At her office desk in Liverpool Elizabeth reads another romantic letter from Daniel, with the lines of a poem, “From the beginning until the end of time, there is love between thee and me.  And how can such love be extinguished?”
     A knock at the office door is Mr. Dunwoody.  Elizabeth tells him, “Sir Daniel will be arriving home in April, and I have it in mind that he and I will then be going away . . . I’m thinking of taking a leaf out of my sister-in-law’s book and touring the world [Sarah Onedin].  There are so many places I should like my husband and I to visit together.”  She gives Dunwoody a drink she has poured for him from her decanter.
     “Ah, so you would be gone for some considerable time?” Dunwoody rephrases.  “Yes.  And that is the reason for this conversation.  Mr. Dunwoody, would you take complete responsibility for both the [Frazer Shipping] Line and the Shipyard?”  
     “Of course I will, my lady.  Circumstances have kept you and Sir Daniel apart for such a long time that it is only right and proper you should make amends for this,” the longtime faithful man reacts as usual, with full support.  “Pray do not concern yourself on my account.  I can assure you that I shall manage admirably.”  Of course, he’s not averse to having full authority and position, either.
     “Dear Mr. Dunwoody, you are quite a giant the way you shoulder so much responsibility,” she praises the man less than giant in physical stature.  “And so, it gives me great pleasure to raise my glass to the Managing Director of the Frazer Line, with a salary commensurate with your new position, of course,” she says to the wide-eyed Dunwoody.  They drink the toast, and Dunwoody chokes a bit on his.  Elizabeth pats his back, “Words at last failed you, Dunwoody?”  He can only mouth words and nod.

     When the “Soren Larsen” arrives at their destination, Baines points out, “The village lies the other side of those trees, sir,” as James surveys with the telescope.  “The house I can see up there,” James hands Baines the spyglass, then directs his instructions to “Mr. Blagdon, be so good as to lower a boat, will you?”  He calls to a couple sailors to oblige.
     “May I come with you, James?” Margarita asks humbly.  “No, lass.  Best let me get ashore, spy the land out first, eh?”  “Very well.  I will have a little rest while you are gone,” she replies compliantly and goes to do that.  “Something we could all do with in this heat,” Capt. Baines comments.
     As Margarita reaches the bottom of the stair, she feels faint and asks for Simon the steward’s help.  He runs over to steady her.  “Thought you was gonna fall,” he’s concerned.  “I’ll be alright in a moment,” she assures him.
     “Course you will.  I ‘ad a bad fall once, from the roof of a barn.  Lost me job, lost me memory.  Ended up at sea.  I’m alright now, though.”  “Good.  Now perhaps if you would walk me to the cabin, Simon,” she asks, out of breath.  
     He gives his arm, “Name’s George, really.  They just call me Simon.  I don’t mind, though,” he says good naturedly as he opens her cabin door.  

     James and Capt. Baines sit at a table with Scrutton, the boss man who is flanked by a couple henchmen with rifles in their hands and ammo belts slung diagonally across their chests.  
     “Well, Mr. Scrutton, is there as much nitrate ‘ere as that report says?” James questions the man.  “Oh yeah.  I reckon there’s enough here to see you and me out, that’s for sure.  Here.  Let me fill you gents up, and we’ll drink to our mutual prosperity.”  James accepts the drink with a smile.
     “’ow long ‘ave you lived ‘ere, Mr. Scrutton?” Capt. Baines asks.  “You can call me Alf.  10 year.  I ‘ad what you might call a little disagreement with a focsle lawyer who just ‘appened to fall overboard one dark night off Valparaiso [Chile].  Well, the old man didn’t want any trouble, so ‘e anchors in the river, pays me off, plus a bit extra for the inconvenience, and over the side I goes.  And in a manner of speaking, gents, I landed on my feet.”
     “Do well for yourself, do you?” James surmises.  “Anything I want, I ‘ave.  Anyone don’t see eye to eye with me, my friends ‘ere ‘ave a quiet word,” he indicates the men standing behind him with his thumb.
     “You tellin’ us you run these people?” Baines asks.  “Certainly.  Well, I got it up ‘ere, see?” Scrutton points to his head.  “Listen, when I landed ‘ere, the village ‘ad 10 rowing boats and not 2 farthings to rub together between the lot of ‘em.  So I ‘elped ‘em out.  Bought the boats for £20, and for that £20 I got control of the river.  Smartest thing I ever did.”
     “Till the river silted up and the ships stopped comin’?” James continues the story.  “Yeah, well then I ‘ad to think of something else, didn’t I?  Listen.  There’s 4 villages upstream.  I put nets across the river.  Now they ‘ave to buy all their fish off me.  Clever, eh?”  “That’s not what I call it,” Baines says.
     “Well now.  Let’s talk about you and your nitrate, Mr. Onedin.”  “Got a proposition worked out for us as well, ‘ave you?” James asks with a bit of sarcasm.  “Yeah, and somehow I don’t think it’s one you can afford to refuse,” the man is confident.  “Well, let’s hear it then,” James invites.
     “Ten boats, complete with crews, and my personal guarantee that each boat will load a minimum of 1 ton of nitrate a day.  10 boats, all included, £10 a day.  Now you can’t say fairer than that, can ya?” he says proudly.
     “A pound a ton to load,” Baines objects.  “This ain’t Liverpool Docks, Captain,” Scrutton answers, then turns to James, “A handshake’s all I need from a gentleman like you, sir.”  And why would he want anything in writing?  Someone might insist that he keep his bargain.
     “I think not, Mr. Scrutton,” James slaps his hand away rather than in a deal-making gesture.  
     “Mr. Onedin.  You ain’t in a position to bargain,” the trader claims.  “Oh yes I am,” James the bargainer par excellence differs from the other’s assessment.  “I don’t need you or your boats.  See I intend to build a jetty out to deep water.”  
      “Eh?  A jetty?  Well now, ain’t that a clever idea.  A jetty, eh?  No, I don’t see as how I can let that happen.”  “There’s nothing you can do about it, mister,” Baines tells him.  “Ain’t there?  Well now, I reckon that when Manuel and Pedro ‘ere ‘ave explained things back in the village, there won’t be no one willin’ go build your jetty.”
     “I’ll get it built somehow,” James assures him.  “And supposing you do.  I wonder what will ‘appen to your jetty once you’ve sailed.”  “Are you threatening me, Alf?”  Alf looks back at his henchmen, who move forward a step or two.  “Well, put like that, I suppose I am.’
     “And if you think I’ve sailed halfway round the world to be blackmailed by a jumped-up rogue like you, you’d better think again,” James chuckles and gets up.  “Come on, Baines.”  James and Baines leave, the henchmen start to follow, but Alf signals for them to stay.  
     Back aboard ship, James paces the saloon, “Damned if I’ll be ruined by that upstart Scrutton.”  “Let me take one or two of the lads ashore, sir,” Blagdon suggests, “We’ll soon teach him a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.”
     “Thank you, Mr. Blagdon, but no.  I need a solution that’ll last me at least 20 years,” James takes the long view.  “Supposing we shanghaied Scrutton and ‘is two louts and drop ‘em off in the Azores,” Baines suggests.  James chuckles drily, “Aye, well that thought had crossed me mind.”
     “No, James,” Margarita says with gentle persuasion.  “These people have long memories.  When your next ship arrived, they would run away and hide.  Who would load your nitrate then?”  “You could be right,” James admits.  “But I’ll not be fleeced by that man.  There’s a simple answer somewhere, and I mean to find it.”  James has ever put his mind to such problems, and nearly always solved them.  
     Simon the steward hands James a cup of tea, mentioning, “Mrs. Onedin’s alright now, sir . . . coulda been a nasty fall.”  “Fall? . . . Margarita?” James asks her for an explanation.  “I felt a little faint.  It was nothing.”  “Oh, come on now, what’s all this about?” James wants to know.  She glances briefly toward the other men in the room, so James dismisses them.
     They all go with Baines for a “turn around the deck.”  From below everyone hears James bellow, “You’re what!?”
     “You are not pleased I am carrying your child?  I thought you would be happy!” Margarita pleads.  “Well of course I’m happy!” James yells.  “Then why do you shout at me?”  “Well . . . uh, . . . You took me by surprise,” he calms enough to sit and lower his voice, “Yes, of course I’m pleased,” he’s panting.
     “Good.  You see that’s why I knew I had to come on this voyage with you,” she explains.  “Wait a minute . . . You knew before we left Liverpool? . . . When will it be?” he’s in panic as well as shock.
     “In just over 4 months,” she’s delighted to announce.  “Four months!  Hey, we could still be here,” he’s really panicked, now.  
     “Well, I exaggerate.  It is four and a half months, probably,” she says as though those other 2 weeks make such a difference.   “But what does it matter?”  “What does it matter?  This is no place to be having a baby!”  Despite what she may have been told about James’ 3 previous experiences with his wives’ pregnancies, she doesn’t seem to take his trauma to heart.
     “Oh James, don’t be ridiculous.  Women in South America . . .” she, like many, feels herself invulnerable.
     “I’m not going to talk about it anymore.  Baines!” he calls up the stairs.  “I’m gonna find you the best doctor that I can.  That baby will be born in a hospital in Buenos Aires.  Baines!” he shouts again.  
     “But James, the nitrate!  If you have not finished loading . . .” Margarita is animated as well.  “I’m not going to risk the child, or you,” James would have said, or did say, to his 2 previous wives.
     Baines comes down, no doubt having heard all.  “Baines, how long would you allow for us to get to Buenos Aires?”  Back around the Horn?  After all he worried about rounding it even before knowing she was pregnant?  “Well allowing for the fact that we’ve got the wind up our tail most of the way, about 6 weeks.”  “In that case, we leave in 10 weeks.  I’ll be outside,” he goes up for probably some much needed space and air.  16 weeks = 4 months . . . cutting it awfully close.
     Margarita sits, hurt.  “I, uh, couldn’t ‘elp overhearing, ma’am.  I’d like to offer my congratulations.”  Baines has been through this before, with Letty.  “He says he is pleased, and yet he shouts at me and looks so angry,” she bewails.  “Well, ‘e’s put everything ‘e’s got into this venture.  It’s only natural ‘e’d be worried.  And it could also be . . . well . . . maybe it’s old memories ‘ave come back to haunt ‘im, ma’am.”  
     And indeed, James leans on the rails of the ship’s deck, with a haunted look.  

     Simon comes down the steps into the saloon at a fast stumble.  “They’re back, sir.  Boat’s alongside now.”  “Tell Mr. Blagdon I’ll see him immediately, Simon.”  James taps his watch with irritation as he says to Baines, “Nearly 5 hours they’ve been gone without a word to either of us.”
     “Well, ‘e’s a good man is Blagdon.  Let’s hear ‘im out first,” Baines tries to keep James on an even keel.  
     Blagdon comes down, “You wanted to see me, sir,” he states more than asks.  “I certainly did, Mr. Mate,” James rises with his ire, “You’ve got some explaining to do.  You disappear with my wife and the ship’s boat . . .”
       Margarita comes down to interrupt, “James, you must not blame Mr. Blagdon, it was all my idea, and I told him we had your permission.”  More folks are descending the steps.  “Adelante, Adelante,” Margarita tells them.  In walk Alf’s 2 henchmen.
     “Would somebody tell me what is going on,” James is worked up, with good reason.  
     “Certainly,” Margarita says forcefully, as she sits.  “First, we went to the village and met Manuel and Pedro.  I asked them why they work for Mr. Scrutton, and they say it is because he owns the boats.”
     “Yes, I know that, Margarita,” James says impatiently.
     “So then, I went up the river to the other villages, and they agree to sell me 10 boats for £50, providing I see the nets across the river are taken down.”
     “And you agreed?” James asks.
     “But of course.  So then I went back to Manuel and Pedro and told them that you will sell them 10 boats if they will stop working for Mr. Scrutton, and also take down the nets.  They agreed, but said they had no money.  So I told them that if they would build your jetty for you, you would give them the boats for nothing.  So now, they have come to shake your hand and seal the bargain,” Margarita is plainly proud of her success, and James is clearly in a bit of shock, but impressed.  He walks over and shakes hands with Manuel and Pedro.  They leave happy, he stays happy.  
     He sits, “By heck.”  “’er brain works the same way as yours does,” Capt. Baines is also impressed.  James nods vigorously, “Better.”   And yet, she has made a chain of bargains similar to that James had made when they went to Sumatra (S8 E4).  It’s likely that he told her about all that, and quite possibly it gave her correspondent ideas, just as Samuel’s tale of stowing away gave her such boldness.
      James is good at bargaining in general, by reasoning things through.  But there are times when he is too emotionally involved to do so.  Margarita can become agitated at times, but perhaps in this instance she was able to take a more dispassionate look at the situation.  She might understand the culture better, she speaks their language, and sometimes a woman can effect a more effective transaction with her charm (as Elizabeth does at times, and Leonora did as well.)  That’s not to say that men can’t also be more effective through charm, as effective cons know.  More flies are attracted to honey than to vinegar.

     Mr. Dunwoody sits at Elizabeth’s desk.  He answers, “Come,” to a knock at the office door.  “Ah, Miss Charlotte, did the auction go well?” he stands in deference for a woman.  “Remarkably well, Mr. Dunwoody.  The ‘Esthe Loehse’ fetched £1600 and the ‘Charlotte Rhodes’ £1750.”  That’s a tidy sum for a sailing ship over 25 years old, but James has kept her maintained.
     “Upon my word,” Dunwoody is impressed.  She sits removing her gloves across from him.  “I was named after her, you know,” she mentions to Dunwoody.  “My father’s first ship.  I was sorry to see her go.”
     “Well, Mr. Onedin was never one to cling on to the past,” Dunwoody says, either not knowing, or endeavoring to make it seem less sad to her.  After all these years of clinging to the “Charlotte Rhodes” it seems amazing that James would part with her.  But it seems that he has a new lease on life, and is able at last to let go of the past.
     “And you obviously approve of that philosophy, Mr. Dunwoody.”  “Oh, we can learn from the past, Miss Charlotte, but it never helps to dwell there for too long.”  He leans forward, “There is always a bright future if only one looks for it,” he tells her wisely.  And she agrees.  “Something I’m only now discovering.”  “Yes.  And I’m, uh, so pleased to see that you and Mr. Samuel are on friendly terms again, miss.”  For so long she was Miss Onedin to him, he still calls her so.
     She turns to look at him as he wanders the office, “What do you mean?”  “Oh, uh . . . One evening last week when I was in Manchester, I saw the two of you dining together.  And, you know, for a moment, I almost forgot that you were no longer married.”  Yet he has just called her Miss.  Perhaps not to recall her to painful remembrances.
     “Yes.  Well, we just happened to run into each other,” she says without facing him.  She thus notices his photos on the desk.  “You’re wife, Mr. Dunwoody?”  “My late wife.”  “Oh, I’m sorry.  And this must be your daughter.”  She holds them side by side, an older, plain woman, next to a young pretty one.  “Uh, no . . . That is the present Mrs. Dunwoody,” he says with a self-conscious smile.  She smiles back at him.

     Samuel walks slowly across Elizabeth’s parlor as she says of him, “He’s taken the defeat badly.”  “Well he lost by such a large amount,” his wife Caroline points out.  “Well the country is in a very strange mood at the moment,” Elizabeth offers excuse.  
     “I tried to get him to rehearse his speeches, even his gestures, but I’m beginning to wonder now if perhaps he didn’t want to win.”  “Oh come now, Caroline.”  “No, I mean that.  Whenever  I tried to get him to sit down and plan his meetings, he’d disappear to Manchester on business.”
     It’s possible Samuel took too much for granted, having Sir Daniel’s endorsement, perhaps was over confident.  But one suspects through this conversation that the more his wife pushed him, the more he came to realize that she would never stop pushing him until her ambitions became too difficult to live with, taking over his own self-determination.
     “Well, now the election’s over, you’ll find that life will get back on an even keel,” Elizabeth offers as compensation.  “Oh, there’s no sign of that.  He’s out practically every evening,” Caroline lets on, so that we can see the cracks in their relationship developing the possibility of splitting the vase.  Presumably Samuel didn’t hear what the women were saying “behind his back”, but maybe he just didn’t want them to know.  Nevertheless, he tells them, “I thought I might return to the office.  I’ll send the carriage back for you, Caroline.  Will you be out riding for long?”
     Elizabeth’s butler has brought her a message, and she opens it with excitement, “Well if this is Daniel’s telegram, I’m afraid I wont be riding with you . . . No . . . No . . . “ she crinkles it and walks, then runs out, dropping it behind her.  Samuel picks it up.  He must breathe deep to read to Caroline, “Steam yacht ‘Prelude’ in collision with ‘S.S. Orion’ night of 15th March.  Following extensive search, deeply regret to inform you that your husband, Sir Daniel Fogarty, must be presumed drowned. British Consul, Naples.”
     Elizabeth goes riding on her own, racing against her feelings, but she can’t outrun them, and at last dismounts to let them out.  She remembers the lines Daniel quoted from Kabir.   If this were not the last episode of the last season, one could almost expect him to miraculously to have survived, but all the romantic letters foreshadowed such an end.
     On the other side of the world, James awakes saying Elizabeth’s name.  When Margarita speaks to him, he becomes aware, “I was just dreaming.”

     James strides right into Scrutton’s office.  He gets up and turns his back on James, saying bitterly, “All loaded up and battened down are you?”  “Aye.  Come noon, I’ll be a speck on the horizon,” James confirms.  “So, not content with ruinin’ me, you’ve come to gloat,” Alf accuses acrimoniously.
     “No, thought to offer you a job.”  “Eh?  You pokin’ fun at me?”  “Within the year, there’ll be at least 10 ships callin’ here.  They’ll need fresh fruit, water, vegetables, meat, plus labor to move that nitrate.  And I need somebody to organize it.”  Now James has his temper under control, he knows it’s better to enlist Scrutton on his side, give him reason to make the venture succeed (a stake in the success), rather than leave a clever, bitter opponent looking for ways to destroy him.
     “How much does it pay?  £10 a month, plus whatcha make on vittling, of course,” James pulls out cash, “Six months in advance.”  James gives him a charming look.  Scrutton is enough a realist to recognize a good deal, “Always said you was a gentleman, didn’t I?”  James chuckles, but warns, “I wouldn’t count on it,” just in case.
     
     James walks the deck back to the helm, where Capt. Baines stands next to the mate.  “What are we making, Baines?”  “Mr. Blagdon?” Capt. Baines asks.  “Barely 3 knots, Captain.”  “Same as yesterday, and the day before.  And the only thing I’m not flying [as a sail] is my shirt,” Baines comments.  “Ah, the wind’ll pipe up soon, sir,” Blagdon tries to infuse some hope.
     “You’ve said that every day for 3 weeks, Mr. Blagdon,” James points out, “I don’t wish to hear that remark again!” James remarks as he walks by.

     Later, a very pregnant Margarita at table below tells her husband, “I think I will go to bed, James.”  “Aye,” he acknowledges.  “Capt. Baines, try to make him not worry so much about there being no wind.  I am enjoying such a pleasant voyage,” Margarita would rather rock a cradle than the boat at this point.
     “One month out and we’ve barely done 1400 miles,” James laments.  “I know, I know.  I’ve done my sums.   We’re still two and a half thousand miles from Buenos Aires,” Baines reckons.  That means they haven’t even rounded the Horn yet.  
     Blagdon comes down.  “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but the wind is piping up, sir, and there’s storm clouds coming up fast.”  That brings Capt. Baines on deck.  He tells the mate, “Get the t’gallant in, Mr. Blagdon.”  But James comes up, “One moment, Mr. Bladgon,” and James taps Baine’s shoulder and says privately, “We’ve lost enough time as it is.  Just leave it be, eh?”  Many a time James has kept sail on to make a fast passage for the sake of a cargo.  But his wife is heavily pregnant, and he is worried about getting her to better facilities for a birth than a ship.
     “We’re carrying too much sail, sir.  I mean the wind’s strengthening,” Capt. Baines has his worries, too.  “No, leave it be,” James says and goes below where Margarita is eating.  He chuckles, “Take in sail indeed.  Baines is getting too cautious b’half.  Perhaps he’s gettin’ too old, eh?”  
     “James, if Capt. Baines wants to sail pleasantly, what has that got to do with age?  You know, sometimes I think you like bad weather.”  “To get you to Buenos Aires in time, we need a fast passage,” he emphasizes to her.
     “But you’re going so fast I’m beginning to find it difficult to keep my feet,” she objects.  “Then you’d better take to your bunk,” is his solution.  “Oh no, James,” she pleads.  “Oh yes.  Soon as you finish your breakfast.”  Someone calls out to Mr. Blagdon, so James goes back up on deck, pointing to her, “I’ll be back,” as if he were her parent (and he is enough older to be that).
     Blagdon runs to tell Capt. Baines, “Fore-topmast has sprung, Captain.”  “Badly?”  “Aye, a big split.  We’ll need to fish it [reinforce it].”  “Right.  Get all her canvas off [take in all the sails].”  
     “What’s happening, Baines?” James asks.  “Fore-topmast has sprung, sir.”  “Damn!”  “Well I told you we were carrying too much canvas.”  The mate tells the carpenter, “I want 4 oak splints to fish the topmast, right, and quickly, quickly.”
     “Turn ‘er about?  Why?  We’ve got us a good wind.  I thought you wanted to . . .” Capt. Baines calls after James as he goes below.  “I’ll not risk takin’ ‘er around the Horn with a patched up topmast,” James gives his reasoning.  “Where we heading, then?”  “Valparaiso.”  “Pity you didn’t settle for that in the first place,” Baines says from above.
     “But James, I thought we were going to Buenos Aires!” Margarita objects.  “Aye.  Well now we’re going to Valparaiso.  Look, there’s a good hospital there.  Any road, time you was in your bunk.”  “Ah, no.  I haven’t finished my coffee.”  “Oh, come on, take it with you,” James takes the cup and saucer.  
     James comes up top again.  “What speed are we doing, Capt. Baines?”  “It’s a good 10 knots, sir, maybe 11.”  “That’s better.  Providing this weather holds, we’ll make Valparaiso in no time.”
     Simon the steward is below tidying up from Margarita’s breakfast.  Margarita walks back in the dining area, “Simon, may I have some more . . . “  A sudden jolt knocks her to the floor.  Simon runs to her, “Are you alright, Mrs. Onedin?”  “Yes, yes, I think so.”  “Let me help you up.”
     James comes down the steps in time to see her cry out in pain as she holds her belly.  “Margarita . . . what happened?”  Simon must answer for her, “She lost her balance.  I’d leave her be for awhile,” he counsels.  
     “I told you, you should have stayed in your bunk.  Come on, now,” James tries to get her to get back to bed, but she cries out again, and Simon says, “I reckon that baby’s started.”  “Hold your tongue,” James tells him.  Margarita agrees with Simon, “I think he’s right, James.”  James sends Simon to get Capt. Baines while he helps Margarita back to bed.
     “Easy now . . . be still.  Hey maybe you just pulled a muscle,” he’s reaching for straws.  She convulses, “No, James.  Our baby will be born soon.  I know.”  She’s been through this before, we don’t know how many years previous.  Capt. Baines pokes in his head, “Simon . . . Simon said something had happened.”  “I shall be back soon, dear,” James in his best solicitous/caring mode tells her as he and Baines go in the next room to confer.
     “Simon said she had a fall.  She all right?” Capt. Baines asks.  “No, I reckon the baby’s started.”  “How soon, do you reckon?”  “Soon,” James pants like any nervous father-to-be, only his experiences have made him more panicked.  “But don’t you worry, I’ll give you all the help you need,” James the usually calm ship’s captain/physician is not at all calm.  “What you on about?”  Capt. Baines perhaps has a suspicion.  “Delivering the baby,” James says.  
     “Oh . . . no,” Capt. Baines negates that idea.  “As master of this ship . . .” James reminds him of one of the hats a captain must wear.  “I’ve never delivered a baby in my life,” Baines tells him.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  Of course you have,” James reasons hopefully.  “No I haven’t!” Capt. Baines insists.  “Are you tryin’ to tell me that in all these years as master . . .”
     “Well, there’s not much call for midwifery aboard cargo ships, now is there?” Capt. Baines reasons in return.  James sounds like he’s going to hyperventilate.  “Yes, but you know how.”  “Of course I do, same as you,” Baines intimates the difference between book learning and experience, theory and practice.
     He looks closely at James, “When was the last time you delivered a baby?” James admits, “I never have.”  “What?”  “Same as you . . . cargo ships . . . Aye, well, the burden’s mine,” James makes up his mind to it, as he has all through his life faced hard things.  Of course, the father may not be the best one to do the job, or, in fact may be.  Much depends on the father.
     Simon comes in with an armload of towels, “Don’t mind about talking,” he warns.  “Last one of mine arrived in 10 minutes, start to finish.  Lucky I were there.”
     James says slowly, “Simon . . . uh, are you saying that you’ve . . . actually delivered a baby . . . your, yourself?”  “Lord bless ya, sir, I’ve delivered 3.  Ya see, living in the country, you sometimes have to wait a bit for help.”
     “And they all lived?” Capt. Baines seeks assurance.  “Oh of course they did.  Simple enough when you know.  All ya gotta do is make sure that you . . . Here, you’re not suggesting that . . . “
     “Fact of the matter is, Simon, that uh . . . Capt. Baines and myself . . .”  “We never had much call to . . . you see . . .”  
     While they are trying to decide who will deliver the baby, Margarita cries from her bed, “James, don’t be long, please!”  
     Simon shakes his head, “Right.  Capt. Baines, I reckon it would be a lot easier for Mrs. Onedin if the ship were steadier.”  “Right,” Capt. Baines is glad to take that duty rather than one less familiar.
     “Now, I’ll need more towels, clean blankets, hot water, and soap.”  “Right,” James is glad for something else to do.  “Um . . . I think I’d better tell Mrs. Onedin,” he actually thinks to do first.  Simon stops him before he goes in, “Sir, just talk nice and quiet.”  No doubt he heard James bellow over the news some months ago.  “Don’t you go upsettin’ ‘er now.”  
     “This what you wanted, Simon?” James asks about the rope he has attached above the head of the bed for Margarita to hold on to.  Then Simon has to ask to trade places, “If I can just get there, sir.”  Simon listens for the baby with his ear to Margarita’s belly, asks, “How often you gettin’ the pains now, ma’am?”  “Every few minutes.”  James is hovering.  He’s never been allowed in the room before.
     “James, please don’t worry,” Margarita tries to calm him.  “Worry?  I’m not worried,” but his voice betrays him.  “Upon my word.  I’ve forgotten the napkins,” Simon says.  “Them towels out there.  Reckon you could tear each one in two, sir?” he gives James something to occupy him in the other room.  “Thank you, Simon,” Margarita is grateful.  
     Simon also knows about reassuring the mother, “Just you cry out when you fee like it, ma’am.”  Margarita cries out and prays (in Spanish) by turns.  When the pains are bad, Simon tells her to “grip hold of the rope.”
     James can hardly contain himself as he hears her cry out, but he resists the urge to go in.  It helps that he has something to do, to focus on, beside just wring his hands and his heart.

     Up top, Capt. Baines has sails taken down, takes over the helm (where years of experience have given him the confidence to know he can make the smoothest sailing possible), and calls for oil bags.  The oil helps to calm the sea.  And, he yells out to the crew, “I reckon that squall’s just about blown itself out.”  He and the crew smile as they hear a baby squall from below.

     “Are you pleased with me?” Margarita asks James, now at her bedside.  “What a question to ask.  Go to sleep,” he tells the little one in mother’s arms, and his own hand.  He gets up to enthusiastically shake hands of gratitude with Simon.  Then he goes up on deck, puts on his coat, and Capt. Baines can’t wait, “Well?  Don’t keep it to yourself.  What is it?  Boy or girl?”  James turns to him, “It’s a boy.  I’m gonna call ‘im Will, after you.”  The two smile broadly at each other, and shake hands.  The series began with the two working together, and ends there, too.
     Mr. Blagdon at the helm calls out to the seamen, “It’s a . . . it’s a boy . . . Hey, lads, Mr. Onedin’s got a son.”  The crew let out a cheer.  Whatever previous crews have said about James, these men are glad for him.  In a sense, his success is theirs.  And maybe he has mellowed some.
     Capt. Baines tells Blagdon, “Let Mr. Onedin take the wheel.”  James smiles in thanks, Baines smiles in recognition of all they have been to one another.    James leans on the wheel, “I’ve got a son,”  an heir of the Onedin Line.

The End

Conclusion of the Series

      Such is a satisfying end to the Onedin Line series.  But in real life, there would be more to the story.  One (or, in fact, a couple) ought to consider the future of their joint venture.  Where and how will the children be raised?  Where and how will the family live?  
     We have seen that James’ real love is life at sea.  He is unhappy, restless living on land (eg life with Letty).  As much as Anne and Margarita wanted to accompany him on his voyages (even Letty enjoyed joining him for shorter ones), how would it work to raise a child aboard ship?  James would no doubt dote on his son, and maybe he could escape the sound of a crying baby with the working of the ship and the sounds that entailed.  Maybe he would even develop more patience for crying infants than he’d had for Charlotte as a baby.  Maybe he has mellowed enough with age, experience, more motivation to be mellow.  
     He surely would enjoy teaching his son seamanship and navigation, as he had enjoyed teaching those skills to his wives and the apprentices to whom we were introduced (William Green S1E8, David Teal S2E8, nephew Samuel Onedin S5E5, Tom Arnold S7E5-S8E6).  But he would want his son to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic.  Anne could have taught those, Margarita could teach them in Spanish, perhaps Baines could teach the rudiments in English, but would that be sufficient?  Maybe James’ temperament could be tempered to teach his son, his heir, while aboard ship, but I suspect that at some point a tutor would be called for, even if James never felt his son needed to go to school.  And there might be some educated person that would like to live and teach at sea, without being a seaman.
     But would James be willing to hazard his young son’s life to the rigors of rounding the Horn (as well as the sicknesses aboard ships)?  Since Margarita had given successful birth, it’s likely she and James would have other children.  But James would no doubt insist on Margarita living where she could get good medical attention as soon as he learned she was pregnant.  Liverpool was not really a home for Margarita.  Buenos Aires would be a trip around the Horn both ways, and James didn’t want her rounding that even when he didn’t know she was pregnant.  Valparaiso seems like it would make more sense as a home base for the family.  James might need to travel to Liverpool from time to time, but would probably rely on his sister/partner Elizabeth to take care of the business at that end for the most part.  
     Maybe these arrangements could offer a “happily ever after”, as much as life does offer, for James and his Onedin line/posterity.  Surely we wish them every happiness, despite what life throws in their way.