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“Fair enough,” Samuel said. “But as I have neither a report nor complaint to submit, I would ask that you step down so that I may speak with him.”

The runner’s jaw tightened, but before he could order Samuel out of the public house, Sir John spoke. “Do I know you, sir?”

Samuel turned his attention to the older man. Sir John wore a look of deep concentration, as though attempting to solve a challenging puzzle.

“In a manner of speaking, my lord.”

“What the devil does that mean?” the runner growled. “Either he knows you or he doesn’t.”

Sir John raised his hand to silence his man. “Enough, Jealous. I believe what the gentleman is trying to say is that we met. Briefly. Many years ago.”

“You are correct, my lord,” Samuel said.

“Sit,” Sir John ordered. “All of you.”

The two runners grudgingly took their seats again, and Samuel claimed a chair between the man named Jealous—though he had yet to ascertain whether it was truly the fellow’s surname or an apt moniker—and Sir John.

“I assume you recognize his voice, Sir John.” The second runner, shorter and lither than the first, spoke.

“I do. Though it proved more difficult than usual.” The magistrate leaned back in his chair. “You no longer sound like one of London’s street urchins, Samuel Ross. Am I to attribute your modified speech to years spent abroad or an influencing companion?”

“I believe a generous captain deserves the credit, my lord. He saw worth in a boy third class who was brought on board from the Marine Society and assigned as a servant to his boatswain.” Samuel paused, pushing past the wave of grief that often surfaced when he thought on the man who had become his mentor and the father figure Samuel had never known. “Captain Oswald Lund insisted that when I was not about my duties with the boatswain, I was to be sitting on a small stool beside his collection of books. Like you, he was a firm believer in changes, offering second chances, and he recognized far better than I did at that young age that if I was to have any hope of significant advancement in the Royal Navy, it was imperative that I know how to read and write.” Samuel smiled ruefully. “He also insisted that I increase my vocabulary, and when speaking, I was to reclaim some of the letters I was wont to leave unspoken.”

“Remarkable,” Sir John said. “And where does this noteworthy captain hail from?”

“Shropshire, my lord. A small town not far from the Welsh border, I believe.”

The magistrate chuckled. “That would do it. The Welsh inflection is hardly noticeable, but its influence on your earlier speech pattern is sufficient that it caused me to question myself.”

“And yet you knew me,” Samuel said. “I am twice amazed, my lord. It has been a dozen years since we last spoke.”

“A dozen years and countless experiences, I daresay.” Sir John gestured in the general direction of his two men. “Charles Jealous and John Clarke, meet Samuel Ross. Mr. Ross and I first met here at the Brown Bear when Marsden brought him in for pickpocketing. Our second and last meeting was in my parlor a few hours later.”

The two runners exchanged a look. They doubtless knew what the latter meeting meant.

“So what have you been doing since then?” Jealous asked.

“Sir John sent me to the Marine Society. From there, I was assigned to the HMS Swan, where I worked up the ranks from boy third class to boatswain.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “A standing officer, no less.”

Jealous appeared underwhelmed. He eyed Samuel’s new jacket suspiciously. “If that’s true, why are you out of uniform? Standing officers remain assigned to their ship even when they’re at dock.”

“Standing officers are appointed by the captain,” Samuel said rigidly. “Captain Lund was killed when our ship was attacked by an American sloop. The new captain requested a change of boatswain, and so I was relieved of my duties.”

Jealous snorted. “No decent standing officer would be permitted to leave the navy during a time of war.” He folded his arms. “What are you not telling us?”

The officious runner had no business digging into Samuel’s past, but if Samuel was to have any hope of securing employment under Sir John, he would have to confront Jealous’s accusation.

“During the battle that took Captain Lund, there were other members of the crew who were killed or injured.” He turned slightly and raised the section of hair that covered his left ear so the two runners could see the scarred stub. “My hearing in one ear was affected.”

“And yet you sit here conversing with us all, seemingly without difficulty,” Clarke said.

“Thankfully, as my scars have healed, my ability to hear through that ear has gradually improved. It is rarely necessary, but if I struggle to hear, I position myself so that my fully functioning ear is toward a speaker.”

“Though I am sorry for your injury,” Jealous said, “I find it hard to believe that any captain would dismiss a seasoned boatswain if the seaman can function as well as you appear to do.”

Samuel gritted his teeth. Jealous was relentless! Was this dogged questioning a prerequisite for being an effective runner?