Freedom's Light

by Colleen Coble

  “Such a man does not deserve you.” Hannah patted Olive’s hand. “But why seek a husband at all? Are you not happy and content as you are?” She was. She had no wish to come under the protection of another husband. Thoughts of Birch hovered near the surface, but she resolutely buried them deep inside again.

  “Mama is determined I must wed.” Olive sighed. “You know how relentless Mama can be when she’s resolute. I think I would rather stay unwed than take a man for whom I have no real feelings.”

  Indeed, Hannah knew. Mother Thomas had pushed Nathan Gray at her for the past three months, but Hannah was determined not to be rushed. She felt nothing for Nathan but friendship and slight fondness. He insisted that was enough for him, but she wasn’t so sure.

  “I suppose I shall have no choice but to go to Boston for the season.” Olive lowered her chin to her chest.

  Hannah opened her mouth to console her sister-in-law when she heard the fearsome sound of a ship tearing itself to pieces on the rocks. “Ring the bell for the village, Olive!” She sprang to her feet and ran out the door and down the path to the beach. Was it a British ship or one of their own?

  Heavy fog blanketed the beach and the sea beyond. It had rolled in swiftly and made it impossible to see the lighthouse warning. She shoved the coble into the waves and jumped inside. The wind carried the screams of the crewmen and the squeal of timber against rock to her ears, and she pulled hard on the oars in her haste to reach the sinking ship.

  She didn’t wait for Olive who had feared and hated the water since she’d nearly drowned as a child. The large swells hampered her boat. Pieces of shattered hull, kegs of supplies, and other flotsam were already floating toward her. The shapes looked strange and twisted in the fog.

  She paused from her rowing and stood. Scanning the waves for bobbing heads, she saw three men clinging to a piece of wood off to her left. She paddled to them with all possible speed and pulled them, one by one, into the boat. They lay gasping while she searched for more survivors. This looked to be a merchant ship.

  Behind her, the bell pealed out above the roaring wind. The villagers would be here soon. She spied another man clinging to wreckage and managed to haul him aboard too, in spite of his girth. His weight put her boat dangerously low in the water. She would have to take these men to shore and come back out. She looked over the wreckage in regret and rowed to shore.

  When she helped them out onto the sand, one man refused to get out. “Mistress, I will help you rescue my men.”

  He must be the captain. She didn’t have time to argue, so she merely nodded and shoved the boat back into the water. She guessed the man to be about thirty-two. He was not handsome with his thinning hair and round face, but there was a strength about him that was attractive. His clothing seemed to be of fine quality, and she had to wonder who he was.

  They found five other survivors, and by that time, the men from the village had arrived. Hannah glanced behind her. Olive in a dinghy by herself, rowing valiantly against the waves.

  She gasped and the captain gazed at her with a question in his sober gray eyes. “My sister-in-law. She should not be out here. She cannot swim and does not know how to row a boat.”

  He stared over the waves at Olive. Her face was screwed up in concentration, and then she saw Hannah. She stopped rowing and stood in the boat and waved.

  “Sit down!” Hannah almost stood herself in her agitation. Olive would tip the boat. Then as if the very thought had caused the action, a swell struck the small boat and pitched Olive over the side.

  Hannah screamed, and the man dove headlong into the waves. Olive flailed about in the water, then her head went under the waves. Please God, let him get to her in time. Her lips moved silently as she prayed.

  She couldn’t see Olive. Then the swell died and her head popped up above the waves. She thrashed about again, just as the man reached her. He caught her up in his arm and towed her to the dinghy. Guiding her hand to the side of the boat, he waited until she had steadied herself, then heaved her over the side. He slipped to the other end of the boat and climbed in himself.

  Hannah had to admire him. Not many men would have jumped back into the water after being rescued. She picked up the oars and rowed to shore, reaching it just as the man was lifting Olive out of the boat.

  “Where can I take her?”

  “To the house.” Hannah pointed out the path, then looked around to make sure the shipwrecked survivors were being cared for by the townspeople. Seeing no need to stay, she hurried up the path after Olive and the man.

  She caught them at the top of the bluff. Her stomach churned as she stared at Olive’s pale face. She was only half-conscious and clung to the man as though to a lifeline. Hannah hurried ahead and opened the door as he carried Olive inside and deposited her on the sofa. The spring air was still cool, so Hannah stirred up the fire and got it blazing. She was shivering in her damp clothes, and Olive must be freezing after being in the frigid water.

  Hannah fetched a blanket from the chest and draped it over her sister-in-law. She should change Olive’s clothes, but she couldn’t do it with the man standing there. She turned to face him. “My thanks, sir.”

  “No, I should be thanking you.” He bowed a bit stiffly. “Stephen Brewster at your service. I owned yonder pile of kindling.” He shook his head. “Now my goods lie at the bottom of the sea or in the hands of your good village folk. Still, I have my life, and for that, I thank you.”

  Hannah curtsied, and as she did, she realized she still wore the breeches and hunting shirt. Heat rushed up her face. What must everyone think to see her dressed so immodestly? She could probably expect another call from the town elders. Suppressing a sigh, she forced a smile. “Hannah Thomas, sir, keeper of Gurnet Light. This is my sister-in-law, Olive Thomas, whom you saved from the sea this day.”

  “A woman lighthouse keeper?” He raised an eyebrow. “Although I must admit you performed your lifesaving duties admirably.” He glanced down at Olive again. “Methinks she will be all right, but I would suggest you change her clothing and yours as well. I would hate for either of you to catch a chill.”

  She was grateful he made no mention of her unusual attire. Mayhap he thought it the usual clothing for a female keeper, but it did make the job of rowing easier.

  She nodded. “I shall, sir.”

  “Have you an idea where I might find accommodation, Mistress Thomas?”

  She glanced at Olive. Mother Thomas would want to thank the man who had saved her daughter’s life. She nodded. “Follow the path behind the house. It will take you to Olive’s home. Tell her mother what has happened and ask her to send the carriage for her. I know Mother Thomas will insist you stay with her.”

  Olive moaned, and they both turned. Hannah knelt beside her and placed a calming hand on her forehead. “Shh, ’tis all right, Olive.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to a sitting position. “I was drowning,” she cried. Her gaze traveled to the man behind Hannah, and her eyes widened when she took in his round, pleasant face. “You saved me. How can I thank you?”

  A flush bloomed on his face. “Think nothing of it, Miss Olive. I was just glad I was there.”

  Before Olive could speak, someone pounded on the front door. It swung open and Nathan Gray rushed in. “I cry you mercy for barging in, Hannah. I had to see that you were all right. I heard a woman was pulled from the water.” His gaze took in Hannah’s unusual garb, and he frowned. Then he saw Olive, wet and shivering on the sofa, and his face cleared. “I just thank Providence you are both well.”

  Olive’s teeth chattered, and Hannah turned to look at her. Her lips were blue, and she was as pale as salt. “I must ask you, gentlemen, to leave us now so we might get into dry clothing.”

  Nathan eyed Stephen with suspicion, but they both nodded and turned toward the door.

  “One moment.” Hannah rushed up the stairs and into her bedroom. She took some clothing of John’s from the drawer as well as his good shoe
s and coat. She hurried back to the parlor and thrust them into Stephen’s hands. “Here are dry clothes for you, sir. Nathan, would you show Mr. Brewster to my mother-in-law’s? She will want to thank him properly.”

  Nathan nodded. “This way, sir.”

  As soon as the door was closed behind them, Hannah latched it and stripped Olive’s wet clothes from her and helped her dress in a clean shift, petticoat, and day gown. It was a snug fit, as Hannah was smaller than Olive, but at least she was dry. Then she changed her own clothes.

  “What a strong man.” Olive sighed as Hannah combed and plaited her hair in front of the crackling fire. “I felt so safe in his arms.”

  It was likely the closest Olive had ever been to a man. Hannah suppressed a smile. Wouldn’t it be lovely if something developed between the two of them? Mr. Brewster seemed a very kind man.

  They heard the rattle and jingle of the carriage outside, and Hannah went to the door. Nathan climbed out and hurried to her. She felt a flash of irritation that he would be back so soon. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and rest.

  “Is Olive ready?”

  Perhaps he wouldn’t stay but would escort Olive to her home. Hannah nodded. “She is eager to get home.”

  Nathan touched her shoulder as he passed, and she stepped back. Why must he always find a way to put his hands on her?

  He helped Olive to her feet. “The carriage is outside, and your mother is eager to assure herself that you are all right. Let me help you.”

  “I am fine,” Olive said with dignity. She paused in the doorway and hugged Hannah. “Thank you, my dear sister,” she whispered.

  Nathan helped Olive into the carriage, then stepped back down and shut the door. He wasn’t leaving. Hannah suppressed a sigh. She just didn’t feel up to dealing with him after all she’d been through today. Why couldn’t he see how exhausted she was? Birch would have known with one look. He would have insisted on fixing her some tea and then tucked the blanket around her and made her rest.

  Birch, Birch, always thoughts of Birch. Why couldn’t she forget him as easily as he had forgotten her? This shipwreck brought it all crashing back. It had been three months since that dark night he had surprised her in the light tower. Three months of silence, three months of heartache as she tried to banish him from her thoughts. Most of the time she was so busy she was able to keep the pain at bay. But not tonight.

  She wanted to sit by the fire and weep, to remember. Dealing with Nathan was not on her agenda. She had to make him see she just wasn’t up to company tonight. She stood squarely in the doorway to the house. He would have to push her aside to gain entrance, and she hoped he was too much of a gentleman to do that.

  When the carriage pulled away, he turned back to face her. “Might we go inside and talk a bit, Hannah?”

  She shook her head firmly. “Not tonight, Nathan. Faith, but I am so tired I would not be good company. I want to seek my bed and rest.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t seem keen about it. “I would discuss something with you, though, Hannah. Might I call tomorrow?”

  She had no choice but to agree. He took his leave, and she went back inside. She needed to tell him she could never marry him. The memories brought back by the shipwreck had convinced her of that. She would marry no one but Birch, so she would likely never marry. Until Birch found his peace with God and came back to her, she would wait. If that never happened, then so be it. She would accept God’s will.

  She knew Nathan was tiring of the way she kept him at a distance. She would tell him firmly that he must not wait for her any longer. He would just have to accept her decision.

  CHAPTER 21

  Birch squinted through the spyglass at the white dot on the horizon. A ship, its white canvas billowing, sailed toward them. It was likely a British ship, and he smiled in anticipation. They had boarded five ships in the past three months. After taking the crew captive, they had taken the booty for the Continental Army, then blasted a hole through the hull and watched the ships go to the bottom of the ocean. So far they had been lucky—and crafty. They only took ships alone in the empty sea, like the ship coming toward them now. The British didn’t know it was their own Mermaid who held the hidden pirate in their midst.

  The people had called 1777 the year of the hangman because all the sevens looked like gallows. They had predicted that Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington would all be swinging from gibbets before the end of the year. Birch intended to do his part to prove that prediction wrong. And he and his crew were getting rich in the meantime. They sailed to ports in the South and sold the luxuries aboard to eager consumers. The food and ammunition were sent to the Continental Army.

  It would be at least an hour before the ship was near enough to fire on with his cannon. Birch leaned against the railing and gazed out over the gray sea. It was choppy today, with small whitecaps kicked up by the wind. What was Hannah doing right now? He sighed. Did she ever think of him? His lips tightened, and he shook his head at his own foolishness. She had made her feelings perfectly clear. So why couldn’t he forget her?

  Her clear-green eyes haunted him. His mermaid, his love. He knew he would never feel about another woman the way he did Hannah. She brought out the best in him. In spite of his resolve to put God out of his life, he found himself listening to that still, small voice in his heart.

  He gave a bark of laughter at his own fanciful thoughts. God was done with him too. What madness made him think God still spoke to his heart? Hannah had said she would pray for him. Did she still pray?

  He gazed out at the horizon again. The ship was close enough to see men moving about her deck. They would likely see the British flag he flew and think they were safe. He pressed his lips together in a grim smile. They would soon find out differently.

  “Ready the cannon,” he ordered his first mate, Riley.

  Riley had been invaluable. An Irishman of about forty, he knew what the orders would be sometimes before Birch did. Birch had found him in the sea clinging to a bit of splintered wood and surrounded by sharks. He had jumped from a British floating prison hulk. He would rather be eaten by sharks than go back to that rat-infested, diseased hole, he’d told Birch.

  Readying for battle, his men scurried around the deck. The deck was painted red so the men wouldn’t be shocked to see blood staining it, and he’d ordered sand spread to keep it from being slippery in the heat of the battle. He was not anticipating much battle today, though. He intended to try a new tactic Riley had suggested.

  The Mermaid’s sails were down, and he put on his British uniform coat. All was in readiness. The ship sailed nearer. He could make out her name printed on the side. A British-owned merchant ship with several cannons mounted on her deck. Prosperity. A fortuitous name.

  He nodded to a crewman to wave the flag of distress. He climbed to the prow of the ship and lifted his hand in greeting. “Ahoy, Prosperity!”

  A crewman aboard the British ship answered his summons. “Ahoy, Mermaid. How do you fare?”

  “We have a torn sail,” he called. “Can you tow us to shore?” They were only about thirty miles out, so it was a reasonable request.

  There was silence as the crewman consulted with the captain. “Aye, Mermaid, throw us your line.”

  Birch bit back a smile of triumph. Riley was a genius. He leaned over the railing again and called to the ship. “I would like to invite your captain to sup with me this night. The men have caught a shark, and I would share it with him.”

  The man conferred with the captain again. The captain shook his head, and Birch knew the plan would work.

  The seaman shouted across the water again. “The captain says to bring the fish and come here. Our cook is the best in the fleet.”

  “I shall be there.” Birch waved at the captain who acknowledged his gesture with an upraised hand of his own. He wanted to dance in victory. He left the bosun to throw the line to the other ship while he hurried from the deck and told Riley to
prepare the men. Then he stopped by the galley and had the cook cut a huge slab of shark meat for him and wrap it in burlap. The captain of Prosperity would have his supper, and something he might not like as well.

  The ship moved beneath his feet as the Prosperity towed the Mermaid toward the shore. He slicked his hair back and caught it in a ribbon at the nape of his neck. After donning his hat, Birch took the steps to the top deck two at a time. He climbed down the ladder to the ship’s boat bobbing beside the ship, and two sailors rowed him to the Prosperity.

  The captain met him at the top of the ladder with an outstretched hand. After he was safely aboard, the man bowed. “Captain Robert Gristol.”

  After a swift glance at the unkempt ship, Birch returned his bow. “Captain Birch Meredith.” This man deserved to have his ship taken. He was unshaven and dressed in breeches black with grime, and the same lack of care was in evidence in the ship itself. Decks were unwashed, the crew was lackadaisical with mismatched uniforms, and the yards were badly mended.

  “Welcome aboard, Captain Meredith. Ah, I see you brought the fish. I must admit your invitation was welcome after over a month of hardtack and water.”

  “We have one of the best fishermen in the colonies aboard.” Birch handed the shark to a waiting sailor.

  “Come along, and let me show you my ship,” Gristol said. They strolled along the deck, and he pointed out their cannon and big guns. He spoke of the battles he’d been in and the rich cargo he carried belowdecks.

  Making suitable sounds of appreciation, Birch followed him around but grew more appalled at the condition of the ship. When a sailor announced their dinner was ready, he trailed Gristol to his cabin.

  Captain Gristol took a deep sniff of the air and sighed. “There’s nothing like fresh fish.”

  Their dinner was spread out on the table. Birch had brought potatoes and tea as well, and he knew it looked like a feast to the other captain. He would let him enjoy his last meal of freedom.

  “I shall soon have enough money to retire to the West Indies.” Gristol leaned back in his chair as they lingered over their meal. “I have made much in the slave trade.” He belched.