The Corsair and The Raven lay closest to shore, with Sea Dragon, The Trident, and The Cormorant a length back, along with The Prince. Two navy sloops were standing off, presumably sent to escort the larger ships back to Freetown, although Isobel couldn’t imagine anyone who knew those ships, let alone their commanders, imagining they needed any protection at all.
At the sight of his ship, Caleb let out a whoop and raced down to the shore, waving madly.
Kate laughed and followed rather more sedately.
With Edwina and Aileen, Isobel stepped to the side so that the rest of the company could walk out of the jungle and onto the sands.
Into freedom.
Many walked only so far, then sat, closed their eyes, tipped their faces up to the unrestricted sun, and simply breathed.
Isobel could empathize. She, too, closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh, salt-tinged air. The humidity of the jungle had fallen away, along with, she now realized, another weight that had rested on her shoulders.
Curious, she looked inward, but yes, it had gone.
She opened her eyes and saw a small, dark-haired figure bouncing up and down in The Corsair’s prow, waving madly. She felt a smile the likes of which she hadn’t indulged in in recent days light her face. She waved back, saw Royd had noticed and raised his hand as well, then she turned to Edwina and Aileen and, very conscious of an upswell of maternal pride, pointed Duncan out to them.
With unfeigned eagerness, they looked. Both squinted, then Aileen commented on how tall he looked to be.
“And how energetic,” Edwina said.
“He’s a Frobisher, I’m afraid,” Isobel replied, mock-gravely. “I don’t know of any male by that name who is anything else.”
That startled laughs out of both her almost-sisters-in-law.
The crunch of a rowboat’s prow on the sand had the three of them looking down the beach. They laughed again, this time delightedly, as Caleb swooped on Kate, picked her up, and carried her to the tender from The Prince. He deposited her inside and, in between a great deal of backslapping, handshakes, and talk, managed to haul himself over the side of the boat.
But when the sailors went to push the tender out again, Caleb stopped them. Raising his head, he called something to Royd, standing on the beach, talking to Robert, Declan, Lachlan, Kit, and Lascelle.
Royd nodded and signaled Caleb to wait, then, with the others trailing him, he walked to where Dixon, Hillsythe, Fanshawe, and Hopkins had gathered, along with Harriet and the other women.
Flanked by Edwina and Aileen, Isobel watched while their men and the others divided the ex-captives into groups and then oversaw the boarding of each group onto one or other of the ships. Sea Dragon, The Raven, and The Prince were the first to up anchor. With sails unfurling, they glided out into the estuary’s main channel, and the navy sloops came around to escort them on.
The three ladies watched as the last group to board—the prisoners—were sent off in two tenders. Isobel observed, “They’re sending Ross-Courtney and Neill to the brig on Robert’s ship, and the other three to the brig on Declan’s.” She arched her brows. “I wonder why those vessels and not The Corsair?”
When Declan came to fetch Edwina, she promptly put that question.
Declan glanced at Isobel. “Royd’s the fastest, and he has to get to London and report. He’ll make for Southampton and, from there, take a coach to London—that’s the fastest route. Robert and I will be at least a day later, most likely more. We’ll sail to London so we can off-load our prisoners directly into the authorities’ hands. With luck, by the time we dock, Royd and Wolverstone will have worked out where best to put the bastards.”
Isobel nodded.
Edwina went with Declan to board The Cormorant, and Robert came to fetch Aileen, and they headed for The Trident’s tender.
Isobel watched Royd walk up the beach toward her. Along with a few of his crew, they were the last on the sand. The tender, which had been ferrying a group of the ex-captives to The Corsair, was returning through the light surf, and this time, there was a slight, dark-haired figure crouched in the bow.
She started toward Royd. When she reached him, they both halted, and she nodded toward the tender. “I wondered if he would talk his way onto that.”
Royd followed her gaze and chuckled. “Of course, he did.” He looked back at her and met her eyes. “You would have, I would have—naturally, he did.”
His gaze traveled her face. She felt it, but kept her gaze on Duncan.
“Are you ready to go on?”
A simple question loaded with layers and layers of meaning.
She drew breath and met his eyes. Father and son; the two most important beings in her life.
Sometime in the jungle, her mind had cleared, and the truth—finally—shone clearly. Through all these years, she hadn’t been asking the right question. It wasn’t a matter of whether he loved her enough for her to once again trust him with her heart and her future, but whether she loved him enough to take the chance.
The new perspective altered everything and brought into sharp relief the emotions she’d felt on seeing him facing Dubois’s wavering pistol. The fear that had gripped her then...she had no yardstick to measure it, so great had it been. Had the pistol been pointed at her, she wouldn’t have felt such impending desolation.
And if her days in the jungle had taught her anything, it was that nothing in life was assured.
She gave him the short answer. “Yes.”
His eyes widened fractionally, but he was wise enough not to ask anything more. When he offered her his hand, she placed her fingers in his.
Hand in hand, they walked down to greet their precious son and forge onward into their shared future, whatever it might hold.
* * *
The return of the captives to Freetown caused nothing short of a sensation. The six ships alone, majestic, sleek, and powerful, pulling into the wharfs would have excited interest, but the tide of long-lost locals who poured from their decks and the story they had to tell brought crowds flooding out of the slums and even down from Tower Hill, all agog to learn what was going on.
Deeming the conditions within the settlement and all that had occurred, especially to the children, a lesson worth learning, Isobel, with Royd’s approval, took Duncan with her when she left the ship—along with Williams and another sailor as guards. She was joined by Edwina and Aileen on the wharf; like her, they’d exchanged their breeches for walking gowns and were shadowed by sailor-guards. Isobel introduced Duncan to his soon-to-be aunts-by-marriage; it was hard to decide who was the most curious, but Duncan made his bow and shook their hands, then the three consented to let Isobel lead them on.
They headed down the main wharf. Kate had already joined the other women, and they’d marshaled the children into a large group at the eastern end.
“They all come from the slums out that way.” Gemma pointed farther east, beyond the harbor.
During the trek through the jungle, the women had decided that each child should be escorted to their home by an adult able to vouch for what had happened to them, to mention the restitution fund and that the parents would be contacted in due course...and to make sure each child was appropriately welcomed back and not blamed for what had befallen them.
Several sailors from the Frobisher crews had volunteered as additional escorts for the women and children.
They divided the children into groups, but before they’d even left the wharf, word had gone out; with every step, glad cries came from the surrounding crowd as parents and siblings pushed through to reclaim one of the lost.
Isobel noted with approval and relief that, slum brats or not, every child was claimed with joy and wild affection. With obvious love.
It was soon clear that they wouldn’t need to walk past the end of the wharf as mo
re hopeful parents came running, summoned by news of what was happening at the harbor.
The sun dipped, painting the sky in a brilliant palette of cerise, vermillion, and fuchsia. Along with the other women, Isobel explained as best she could to shaken and hugely relieved parents, assuring them that other than having to work in a mine, no irreparable harm had befallen their darlings, and explaining that Captain Dixon from the fort would be calling shortly with information about money due in reparation. She invariably concluded with a recommendation to keep the children close, but in all the cases she saw, such a reminder was patently unnecessary; if any of the children managed to slip from the arms of their parents anytime soon, she would eat her best bonnet.
Throughout the exercise, she found herself touched by the vignettes that presented themselves: a teary-eyed Kate smiling bravely as she handed Diccon back to his patently doting mother and clinging siblings; Diccon recovering and puffing out his chest and telling them all how he’d acted as courier, and Kate supporting him; Aileen watching Tilly being embraced and rocked by her mother—seeing Aileen’s hand steal to hover over her own stomach before she realized what she was doing and, with a small humph, lowered her hand and turned away; Edwina being Edwina and reassuring the parents of the older boys—then, when Si’s mother came up, frantically asking for him, Edwina led the woman a little way away and gently broke the news, then without hesitation, she enfolded the weeping woman in a supportive embrace.
Little Amy’s parents were among the last to arrive, but the expressions of desperate hope on their faces as they ran onto the wharf left their love for Amy in no doubt; the instant they saw her, Amy’s mother burst into joyful tears, and her father flung himself on his knees and crushed Amy to him. Amy’s excited cries of “Daddy! Mummy!” rang in Isobel’s ears as, with Duncan beside her, she went to stand with Kate. Kate surreptitiously wiped tears from her cheeks, and once the parents had recovered enough to take anything in, Kate ran through their by-now well-rehearsed explanations.
Clearly, having Amy returned to them—she was the couple’s only child—meant more than anything else in the world. As Kate stood and watched the small family head off the wharf, Amy riding on her father’s shoulders with one hand locked in her mother’s, Isobel realized that Duncan had slipped his hand into hers. She squeezed his fingers, then, as Kate sighed, Isobel murmured, “You’ll have one of your own soon enough.” She glanced down at Duncan and smiled. “And despite all the drama, they’re definitely worth it.”
Duncan grinned back.
Kate nodded, squared her shoulders, and turned to scan the area. “I can’t believe they’re all gone. That it’s unlikely I’ll ever see them again.”
The other women heard Kate’s comment. Annie, Gemma, Harriet, Ellen, Mary—all exchanged glances with Kate and each other as the truth of her words, that the observation applied to them, too, sank in.
And then the tears flowed.
Eventually, with hugs and promises to write, they managed to make their farewells.
Night had fallen and flares had sprung up to light the still-busy wharves as Isobel, with Duncan by her side, and Edwina, Aileen, and Kate flanking them—and all their guards hovering—strolled back along the wharf.
The long wharf jutting out into the harbor was known as Government Wharf; The Corsair, The Cormorant, and The Trident were moored along its length, while The Prince and The Raven had berthed at the wharf that ran along the harbor front. Sea Dragon had remained out in the harbor, and Consort had sailed in and anchored alongside.
“I assume,” Aileen said, “that our gentleman-captains are busy dealing with the authorities and making ready to sail again.”
“Royd is determined to sail as soon as possible,” Isobel confirmed, “but given the necessary provisioning, I doubt that will be tomorrow.”
Edwina looked at Aileen. “We really should call on the Hardwickes this evening.” She glanced at Isobel and Kate. “We called on them briefly when we were here a week ago. They were two of the few Declan and Robert told of the rescue mission—someone had to know where we were all going. It would be polite to let them know what’s happened, rather than leaving them to hear via the gossip mill.”
Isobel nodded. “And Mrs. Hardwicke was instrumental in making lists of all those who went missing.” She met Kate’s eyes. “You were on her list. And while Reverend Hardwicke might not have been able to move Holbrook to action, at least he tried.”
Aileen pointed up a street. “We can go this way.”
When they reached the main street, they piled into two hackneys; with their guards clinging to the roofs, they rattled up the slope of Tower Hill to the vicarage and spent a comfortable hour in the parlor, having their first decent cup of tea in weeks while describing the rescue to the Hardwickes.
The Hardwickes were relieved that all had gone so well, and adamant in their devotion to stand ready to assist all those who’d returned to settle back into the small community. Recalling that no one had come looking for the lost Daisy, Isobel asked, and although Mrs. Hardwicke did not know which family Daisy had hailed from, she promised to inquire and tell Dixon of anything she learned.
After taking their leave of the Hardwickes, they returned in the hackneys to the main street. While walking toward the wharf, they passed a tavern with a courtyard opening onto the street—and found a largish group of men rescued from the mine gathered there, along with Dixon, Harriet, Fanshawe, Hopkins, Hillsythe, and Lascelle, and several of his crew.
The ladies joined the gathering. Seated with a still-alert Duncan on her lap, Isobel listened to the plans the others were making, storing away the details to share with Royd later. She’d known that Hillsythe had to report to London before returning to the settlement; he’d decided to take a berth on The Trident.
“To help oversee the prisoners.” He shrugged. “Who knows? I might be able to get Neill to talk—he seems the shrewder, less outrageously arrogant of the pair.”
Satterly, Muldoon, and Winton had been placed in The Cormorant’s brig. “They’re not being allowed ashore,” Lascelle said. “They’ll be taken straight to London.”
When asked, Lascelle confirmed that The Raven would be sailing from Freetown with the Frobisher fleet, but only as far as the Canary Islands. “That was where Caleb found me and asked me to join him.” Lascelle grinned. “I have unfinished business there.”
Fanshawe and Will Hopkins expected to return to their duties with the West Africa Squadron once the blockade—still in place—ended and their ships returned to harbor. Will promised to call on Aileen the next day; she wasn’t yet ready to let him go, and for his part, Will still seemed stunned that she’d come to the settlement searching for him and then fallen in with, and assisted so crucially in, the covert rescue mission.
It seemed Will still underestimated his sister’s determination. But he would learn. Aileen’s immediate goal was to ensure that he returned to England for her and Robert’s wedding.
Hiding a grin at Aileen’s hectoring tone, Isobel caught Dixon’s eye. When he came closer, she told him that Mrs. Hardwicke hadn’t known who Daisy was, either.
Dixon grimaced. “I’ll keep asking. Someone must know of her.”
Harriet came up to join them as Isobel said, “So what are your plans? Back to the fort?”
Dixon’s features hardened; he glanced at Harriet as she took his arm. “We were discussing that when you arrived. I’m not inclined to return to a command that, when I disappeared, did nothing.” He nodded at the group of ex-captives. “While others had homes and, in some cases, positions to return to, these men were itinerants of one stripe or another. They worked under my supervision in the mine—they learned new skills, and I know what they’re capable of. While Ross-Courtney and Neill’s supposed business venture was a sham, they weren’t wrong about the desperate need for new houses in the settlement and that there’s next
to no one building them.” Dixon surveyed the group. “So I’m considering selling out and starting a business building houses in and around the settlement. Freetown is growing—Neill and Ross-Courtney were right about that—and I have a decently skilled workforce to hand.”
“And I’m encouraging him,” Harriet said, “along with others—Annie’s Jeb and the two blacksmith’s apprentices want to join, too.” She looked at Dixon, pride and confidence in her eyes. “I think, all working together, we’ll make a go of it.”
Isobel smiled. “I’m sure you will.”
Dixon asked and Isobel introduced Duncan to him—as Royd’s son, Duncan Carmichael Frobisher. Duncan slipped from her lap, executed a brief bow, and then shook the hand Dixon offered him.
When Harriet and Dixon moved away, Duncan asked, “Are we going back for supper soon?”
None of them had eaten since lunchtime, and Edwina and Aileen were increasing. Isobel rose and dropped a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “You’re right. It’s time we returned to the ships.”
She gathered the ladies, and they said their goodbyes. They’d barely started off again when a grizzled older man came running up.
“Miss Hopkins! You’re back!”
Aileen spun around, then beamed. “Dave! Yes, indeed, I’m back from our adventure, and so is the captain.”
Remembering hearing of the hackney driver Aileen had hired while she was investigating months earlier, Isobel resisted Duncan’s surreptitious tugs and ignored his whispers of “I’m hun-gry!” and waited while Aileen made arrangements for Dave to come aboard The Trident the next morning for a quick tour and a meeting with Robert, and then for Dave to take her—and the other ladies, and Duncan if he wished—on a tour of all the places in the settlement that had featured in the investigation.
Isobel, Edwina, and Kate all added their entreaties, and Duncan stopped tugging and confirmed that he would like to go, too, please.
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