In 1816, at the age of 17 she was stationed in Cape Town, South Africa and quickly became a favorite of the widower governor, Sir Charles Somerset. The two became very close, so close that there were rumors that they were having a homosexual affair. In fact, the only duel Barry actually fought was in the aftermath of a confrontation with the governor's aide-de-camp when he told her that she couldn't see the governor because he was busy with a prostitute. That's a revelation that one soldier would casually make to another, but not one that a woman in love would accept with equanimity. Sir Charles left for England in 1819, his departure marked by the absence of his close friend, whose whearabouts are unaccounted for in that year. Some have speculated that in that year, Dr. Barry absented herself from Cape Town to conceal a pregnancy. Sir Charles returned to Cape Town two years later with a socially suitable wife. Dr. Barry was there to greet him, but their relationship was a distant one thereafter. and she eventually left the Cape to further pursue her career.

So, why the eagerness on the part of Ms. Holmes to paint James Barry as a hermaphrodite? Well, for one thing, it gives the book a different angle than previous biographies and piques the interests of publishers and readers alike. But Rachel Holmes also sees Barry as a modern hero of sexual ambiguity. Neither man nor woman, she chose her own sex. But in truth, Dr. James Barry's story transcends her sex and her sexuality. She was a bold and brave heart who used her brains and her luck to forge a life denied her by her times. The fact that she was a woman is central to her heroism. It's a pity that her most recent biographer denies her that distinction.