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345 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 3, 2018

“I always used to believe in God,” the girl was saying. “But I don’t know more. Why would a God who’s truly good and kind let that press gang take my Jeremy away from me like that? We were so happy. We thought we had our whole lives ahead of us.” Tears began to slide down the girl’s dirty cheeks, but a rush of what looked like raw anger now glittered in her eyes and hardened her features. “I don’t care what the chaplain says. I won’t pray to God and ask him to forgive me. For what? For trying to keep my baby alive? Why should I have to ask God’s forgiveness for that? If there is a God and he did this to us—to my Jeremy, to my Hannah—then I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to go to heaven and live with somebody who’s that cruel and uncaring.”

“It’s not right, what we do. Kidnapping men and carrying them off as essentially slaves to serve on our warships, all without a thought to the wives and children they leave behind to starve. As if their hopes and dreams—as if their very lives—matter not at all. We killed that baby— everyone who has ever kept silent about impressment, who accepts it as just or even an unfortunate necessity. We killed him.” (Hero)
“What’s wrong with Charlotte? She’s far more stable, responsible, and just plain likable than her father. And the people love her—they cheer her every time they see her.”
“She is a woman.”
“So was Queen Elizabeth.”
“Queen Elizabeth lived in a far different age.”
“Are you suggesting the Elizabethan era was more enlightened than our own? Or simply less challenging?”
Jarvis drew up and turned to face her. “The last thing the nineteenth century needs is a woman on the British throne …”.”

