No. Worse than a game. They were in sympathy with the rebels. Otherwise, how could they countenance Jamie’s piracy? And how could they have offered hospitality to Thomas, their brother and their enemy? An oppressive weight pushed down hard on Dinah’s chest until she could scarcely breathe. It was no wonder Rachel and Marianne had seldom offered hospitality to her. Had encouraged her to live in St. Augustine. And wanted her to go back there as soon as possible. Her comments against the rebels heaped condemnation on them. And could it be? Were they involved with helping the rebels bring the war to East Florida?
Forcing air into her lungs, she rose from the step and crept around the back of the house. Under a bush, she saw Kezia’s pink frock and heard her childish giggles. Farther away, little Jamie peered over a pile of hay. He ducked down when he saw her. Caddy peeked around the front corner of the house, a wide smile revealing her pretty white teeth.
Somehow Dinah managed to “discover” them all, managed to pretend gaiety when she caught them and swung each around into the air. But in truth, her world had just shattered into a thousand pieces, and she had no one to console her.
Thomas scowled at the broadsheet lying across his desk. Contrary to what Freddy might have hoped, this document written by the colonists reinforced exactly what he’d come to believe: the Crown should relinquish all claim to the thirteen colonies, something His Majesty would never agree to. But Thomas had revised his former concern that the rebels would not be able to form a cohesive government.
Why had he thought such a long-lasting war was being executed by simple farmers? This well-reasoned declaration made it clear that the men leading the rebellion knew exactly what they were doing and why they were doing it. They were not mindless mutineers, but intelligent, honorable men ready to determine their own destiny…with the help of God. Not unlike himself. He was tired of being at the mercy of the Admiralty, being sent hither and thither to defeat a foe whose only objective was freedom, the watchword of every Englishman.
No doubt some of his thoughts were influenced by his personal desire to marry Dinah and return to his home. But who among his superiors would try to stop him? No one. And he no longer wished to be a party to blocking the aspirations of the colonists.
Thomas snorted out a laugh. Freddy would be appalled at the results of his generosity in giving him this paper. Thomas now understood his “enemy” all too well.
Unfortunately, such understanding did not invalidate his orders to find Nighthawk and visit the king’s justice upon him. But once that duty was completed, Thomas would resign his commission, marry his beloved and sail home to Hampshire.
He tucked those pleasant dreams into the back of his mind and renewed his determination to leave His Majesty’s Navy with honor. He would apprehend the pirate and see him hanged, a final victory to offer his sovereign as a parting gift.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Dinah?” Rachel spoke through the bedchamber door. “Will you join us for our midday meal?”
Seated beside the window, Dinah clutched a small pillow to her stomach, as if it would settle the turmoil churning there. “No.” Courtesy demanded a better answer. “No, thank you.”
The door opened, and Rachel entered. “Oh, come now, cousin. Surely you’re hungry after playing with the children all morning.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “By the by, I thank you for that. They are thoroughly exhausted and did not protest taking their naps. And in Thomas’s absence, they are proclaiming you the best of playmates.” Despite her cheery tone, her swollen, reddened eyes gave evidence of many tears. Did she really think Dinah would not notice?
Dinah had never believed in deception, but she could not disclose what she’d heard. What could she say? And how could she endure the coming days before she returned to St. Augustine with Dr. Wellsey and Joanna? The good doctor was treating several sick slaves and wanted to stay until their health was assured, however long that took. She could not travel back by herself.
“May I have a tray here in my room?” She could barely manage to look at her cousin. Why was Rachel living here instead of in Boston with all the other rebels in their family? Was Frederick a spy disguised as a loyal Englishman? Why, he’d been wounded in battle! Who had shot him, Ranger or rebel? Such agonizing questions had assaulted her for the past three hours.
Sorrow emanated from Rachel’s eyes. “Dear one, we understand your melancholy, Marianne especially, because Jamie must be gone so often on business.” She rose and embraced Dinah, and the fragrance of her gardenia perfume sent a bittersweet pang through Dinah’s heart. “The Lord will sustain you, as He does her, if only you let Him.”
Dinah thrust away bitter thoughts about Jamie and his “business.” A bit of dark humor smote her, and she almost laughed. Pirate or not, rebel or not, her brother did love her. Perhaps he’d stolen Artemis’s cargo to avenge the way she was treated in the Hussey household. No, more likely he’d used the profits to help the rebel cause. How could Dinah have been so blind as not to notice their subterfuge? But she could think of nothing that would have given any of them away to her. Even Thomas had been fooled.
What had Rachel said? The Lord would sustain her if she let Him? That truly was her only hope. She raised a silent prayer, beseeching God to help her muddle through these next days without her family finding out what she knew about them. And against everything she had previously prayed for, she pled for mercy that Thomas and Jamie would never encounter each other at sea.
The sun sank over the western horizon, and Thomas retired to his cabin. In spite of the rough seas, he anticipated a good night’s rest. His approaching marriage and his remarkable reconciliation with Freddy left only one matter unsettled in his life. And this time, he would stay on patrol until he caught Nighthawk and saw the brigand hanged. Then he could resign his commission with dignity and self-respect.
On this, their eighth night at sea, they sailed east without lamps and in the dark of the moon, navigating by the stars and hoping to come upon the pirate without being detected. Thomas had learned from victims of the marauders that in daylight the pirate had tracked them like a shark tracked blood, then seized them at sundown, unloaded their cargo in the night and sailed away before dawn. The last such raid was reported to have taken place over a month ago, giving Nighthawk plenty of time to sail up the coast and deliver his booty to a rebel port and return to strike again. Further, the pirate had a trim ship and, if the wind was in his favor, he could outrun the Dauntless, as he had done before. Yet if wind and waves were favorable to Thomas, the Dauntless could approach the scene of a raid and catch Nighthawk before he could hoist his sails and make his escape.
Thomas’s mind tacked away from those hopes and back to his future. Perhaps he, like Freddy, could join Jamie in his merchant business. He certainly had sufficient wealth to purchase his own ship and hire a worthy captain to command it for him. Then if his farming endeavors did not support his family in the manner he hoped, this could provide a supplement to his income. He had plenty of time to decide on the particulars of the matter. And with his new comprehension of the Almighty as a loving Father, far different from his earthly father, he would make it a matter of prayer, just as Freddy urged him to do.
At the memory of his reconciliation with Freddy, when he had felt the ballast lifted from his burdened heart, Thomas wondered why he had ever considered his brother an enemy. He chuckled into the darkness of his cabin. Life was good. He surrendered to sleep, envisioning the imminent capture of his true enemy.
Just as he dreamed of the noose slipping over the pirate’s head, a soft tapping on his door awakened him.
“Captain Moberly?” Wayland’s hushed voice sounded through the boards.
“Come.” Thomas sat up and pulled on his shoes. They would not have awakened him if his presence was not required.
Wayland entered quietly. “We have something, sir. Two ships in a parley on the horizon. Enough lanterns lit to show considerable activity.”
“Ha!” Thomas fumb
led for his coat in the darkness. “We’ve got him now.”
“Shall we keep the lights doused, sir?”
“Of course.” His pulse quickened as he buttoned his coat and found his hat. “Order all hands to their stations and prepare the guns.”
Once on deck, he pulled out his spyglass, hoping to identify his adversary. If the man lived in St. Augustine or did business there, Thomas would recognize him. Then if he managed to escape, he could be caught on land.
The sea calmed briefly, just long enough for Thomas to see the scene. Ragtag pirates swarmed over the merchant ship, removing the cargo to their own vessel. Thomas drew in a sharp breath. The casks they carried were clearly metal kegs of gunpowder. The long wooden crates looked like those used to transport muskets. This rendezvous was no ruse, as his last encounter had been. Nighthawk was stealing British arms and ammunition from a naval transport ship whose Union Jack waved proudly in the wind.
His first officer approached Thomas. “Orders, sir?”
“Dark and quiet, Mr. Brandon,” he whispered. “The wind is behind us, and any sound will carry. If any man speaks without good cause, he’ll receive a dozen lashes when this is over.” He would catch the pirate tonight or die trying. But oddly, this time that vow did not settle into place with the same determination as before. Was he growing soft? A vision of Dinah came to mind, and he could only surmise that he had grown less willing to die for duty, for that would validate her loathing of the seafaring life. Worse, it would break her heart.
He shook off such thoughts and raised his spyglass again. Good. The pirate’s sails were furled, and the two ships appeared to be grappled together as they bobbed on the uneven waves. Even if the pirate’s lookout saw the Dauntless now, he would not be able to hoist his sails in time to get away. Victory was within Thomas’s reach, but he could not fire yet. A misplaced shot could blow up both ships.
When the Dauntless sailed within a hundred and fifty yards, the pirate lookout did indeed appear to call down, and many heads snapped in Thomas’s direction. Abandoning their booty, some fifty men scrambled like rats back to their ship, while others held firearms on the transport crew to keep them at bay. One pirate broke open a cask of gunpowder and spread it around the transport deck, but when he tried to throw a lantern into it, a crewman endeavored to knock him down with a belaying pin. A second pirate shot the crewman, and the merchant sailors ceased their attempts to resist. The British crew spied the Dauntless and a cheer went up.
“Thank you, Lord.” Thomas nearly shouted the prayer, no longer concerned about making noise. The men in the top yards of the pirate ship scrambled to unfurl sails while other pirates released the grappling hooks. “You have delivered my adversary into my hands.”
As the Dauntless closed in on the scene, the pirate ship broke loose at last and her sails billowed out in the wind.
“Make all sail, Mr. Brandon.” Thomas could taste the victory now. Despite the rough seas, the wind was in his favor, and dawn would break in minutes. “Have Mr. Baynard run out the guns, if you please. At my order, fire a warning shot across his bow. He’d be a fool not to stop with all that powder on board.”
“All hands aloft. Loose topsails and topgallants,” Mr. Brandon shouted across the deck, then turned to the gunner waiting orders by the main hatch. “Ready the guns, Mr. Baynard.”
“Aye aye.” The man saluted and dropped below.
Thomas watched with satisfaction. In minutes, they’d be within firing distance. The seas granted them favor, and the Dauntless sailed with ease over the waves toward the action.
But the adversary seemed determined to prove his mettle. A flame burst from the stern chasers of the pirate ship. Smoke curled in the air.
“All hands hit the deck,” Thomas yelled as he plunged to the boards. The shot splashed harmlessly into the dark waters. So this Nighthawk meant to fight. Well, Thomas would make it worth his while.
“Mr. Brandon.”
Brandon’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Aye, Captain.”
“Tell Mr. Baynard to aim for his rigging and fire at will.”
Within minutes the sky exploded with a thunderous boom that sent a quiver through the ship. Gray smoke blew back upon Thomas, and he coughed and swatted it away.
He raised his spyglass once more and saw his shot splash down near the pirate. The returning volley answered in kind, and a modicum of respect swept through him. The pirates wore nondescript, ragged clothing, but their seamanship was a well-oiled machine. In the rapidly brightening skies, he scanned the ship, searching for Nighthawk, wondering if he would recognize who held that office. There at the back of the quarterdeck, a tall, broad-shouldered man in dark breeches and a billowing white shirt shouted orders to his men. As if sensing he was being watched, he turned toward the Dauntless. The blow his look delivered almost felled Thomas.
Templeton.
My brother. My friend.
My enemy.
“Should we keep firing, sir?” Mr. Brandon called.
Thomas forced out the word, “Yes.”
While Brandon relayed the order, a blazing ball from the pirate ship arced through the morning sky toward the transport vessel.
Mr. Brandon cursed. “Hot shot, sir.”
The red-hot ball slammed into the deck of the looted ship, and within seconds an explosion shattered the roiling sea, sending boards and rigging in a thousand directions. The Dauntless continued to fire on the pirate ship, but he was fast slipping away. Too soon, the transport began to sink.
“Captain, sir,” Mr. Brandon yelled, “we’ll have to save the survivors.”
Thomas trained his spyglass on men thrashing about in the water. British men. Loyal sailors who had done their best not to surrender their cargo. Many were waving toward the Dauntless, clearly desperate to be rescued. The blood of the injured and dead streaked the glistening gold water with red.
“Do it.”
Thomas thought he might vomit. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew he would have done exactly the same thing as Templeton. By forcing Thomas to stop and save his fellow Englishmen, he could now escape.
But there was another casualty to his actions. Nighthawk’s reputation as a benign thief had just gone up in flames with the transport ship.
But then again, this was war. And for the first time since 1776 when King George had declared the colonists in rebellion, Thomas experienced firsthand the extent to which they would go in order to sever their ties with the Crown.
But Father in heaven—Thomas lifted his eyes to the blue-gray sky—why did it have to be my friend?
Chapter Twenty-Six
St. Augustine
August 1780
Charcoal stick in hand, Dinah sat beside her bedroom window and faced a blank piece of foolscap resting on her small easel. She’d planned to sketch the vase of violets on her table but, for some reason, could not make the first mark.
Since returning to St. Augustine two weeks ago, she had found it difficult to resume her former habits. Without her nieces and nephews to bolster her spirits, she spent far too much time thinking about her adult relatives’ betrayal. Even Macy, curled up on the floor beside her, failed to soothe away her pain with his soft purring. And now, over a month had passed since she had seen Thomas, and she could not stop worrying about him. What if, despite her prayers, he and Jamie had encountered each other? What if he’d caught her brother and hanged him at sea and now could not face her? Indeed, she had no idea how she could bear such a tragedy. Oh, if only Jamie had not joined the rebellion! What madness had compelled him to do such a thing? Further, she could find no sense in her family’s renunciation of their allegiance to the Crown.
Her hand began to move, as if it had a mind of its own. The form coming into shape was her beloved’s face, but she could not get the eyes right. Alarm filled her. Was she forgetting his visage? Thomas had never stared at her with such a cross expression.
Another startling thought brought forth a gasp. Had Thomas known all along
that Jamie was Nighthawk? She searched her memory, examined every word, every conversation. Had he been using her in hopes of catching Jamie? No, that could not be. They had both been betrayed by their mutual relatives. And Thomas’s reconciliation with Frederick had surely been genuine. But the doubts she tried to dismiss would not cease.
Her head began to ache, as it often did when she tried too hard to sort out all the clutter in her mind. With no one to confide in, sometimes she thought her brain might explode or her heart burst from the unending pain. To add to her misery, Artemis had refused to accept the announcement of her engagement to Thomas, saying the British captain was dallying with her. On the other hand, dear Anne had gently chided her for her despondency, insisting she must not waste into a shadow before her wedding day. Dinah’s wedding clothes lay partially finished in her clothespress.
The jangling of the bell on the front gate did not excite her interest. This could not be Thomas, because the harbor bell had not rung to announce a ship’s arrival for several days. Any other visitor to the house would be for Anne, who was quilting with friends, or Artemis, who was working at the state house. Cook had gone to market, so Dinah would have to face the visitor. She put down her charcoal stick and wiped black dust on a linen rag. Perhaps it was Elizabeth, back in the city with her parents after visiting Mr. Turnbull’s plantation at New Smyrna.
Instead of Elizabeth, a tall man in rough Minorcan clothing stood outside the gate, a brightly colored woolen cape thrown carelessly over one shoulder and his face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat unique to that group of settlers. Dinah supposed he was a shoemaker seeking work, although she usually recognized the men in that trade.
But as she drew closer to the gate, her pulse began to race.
“Jamie.” She breathed out her brother’s name on a sob, then hastened to unlock the latch.
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