In May, the same sea that was so good to Anne and her ladies on their passage north proves treacherous against the Duke, as he sails back to Edinburgh from London, ready at last to fetch his wife and daughter home from exile. His ship strikes a sandbank; neither Catholic nor Protestant prayers can prevent it from sinking. With Colonel Churchill’s help, the Duke contrives to save the strongbox with his memoirs in it, but by the time he has accomplished this vital task, it is, regrettably, too late for most of the men: over a hundred of the Gloucester’s company are lost, and a score of the Duke’s own staff. To his great distress, his favourite hound Mumper is also among the drowned.
When the Duke brings the news to the Duchess and Anne, they are caught between thankfulness and sorrow. Another ship from the convoy, The Happy Return, is quite unharmed and ready to carry them home. The Duchess, whose condition is now plain for all to see, is taken on board like a piece of delicate statuary, in a special chair worked by pulleys. Anne and the other ladies follow in the usual way – except for Lady Peterborough, who has lost her nephew in the shipwreck, and has begged that she be allowed to travel in another ship, lest she discomfort the Duchess with her excessive weeping.
Their passage is long, but not too rough; besides The Happy Return is a proper, big ship, a fourth-rate, steadier than the yachts they have had to travel in before. Despite this, Mary Cornwallis is sick for most of the journey; Mrs Churchill watches her contemptuously, and sometimes condescends to pass her bowl. The Duchess is sick too, but with better reason: she is sure that the child will come in August, although the doctors say September, and not a moment sooner.
Charlotte Mary is born in August, as the Duchess expected, but the doctors declare her premature, and as she lives only a few weeks, it would seem that they are correct.