The Saintly Buccaneer

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I ... I’m not certain, Your Excellency,” she answered. “Captain Winslow’s uncle, a major with General Washington, persuaded the general to give us a commission. If we could recapture The Gallant Lady, she was to be under the authority of the naval forces of the United States until the end of the war. He also gave Paul Winslow a commission as captain.”

  “Ah, and what were his intentions—General Washington?” the count asked, his face intent. “I have had a recent communication from His Excellency—and he is very insistent on our plans.”

  “General Washington sent us word through Major Adam Winslow that we were to come to you as soon as possible, to be of any aid we could,” Paul spoke up.

  “Good! I have no ship as fast as yours. You will be my eyes, Captain! If we are to be of service to your country, we must somehow slip through the fingers of the English admiral and strike the British fleet off your coast. That is what General Washington urges. He thinks the time is ripe—but it will not be easy.”

  “You will take your fleet to America, sir?” Charity asked.

  “My fleet needs to be in three places at once,” the count replied. “To escort the trade home, to go to the American coast to aid Rochambeau, and to protect our West Indies while the British fleet remains.”

  “My uncle thinks that Rodney will take his fleet from here to reinforce the British blockade. And he says if that happens, there’s not much hope of winning the war.”

  “Yes, that is what General Washington warns me of in his dispatch.” A frustrated look came to the count’s eyes. “I must decide,” he stated slowly, “for this is one of those times when history hangs in the balance. Most of the time, history is slow, seeming not to move at all, or if things do happen, they have little impact. But every now and then, there comes a moment of destiny, and the decision rocks empires. I think we are now at such a time—and what happens now will change the nature of America—and of the world.”

  “I agree, sir,” Greene replied. “If this war is lost, England will rule North America. That would be the end of France as a world power, as you well know—and it would mean that America would remain forever a minor colony instead of becoming a powerful nation.”

  Count de Grass smiled at him. “Lieutenant, you have said it well. So, I would have you be at my call at all times. I must find a time when Rodney is looking the other way—and when that moment comes, we will drive across the sea at full speed. I will need your ship desperately.”

  “It will be our pleasure to serve you, sir.”

  The count rose and the others followed. He went with them onto the deck, saying as he walked, “I will give orders for your ship to be supplied, and if you need men, I will have them transferred to your ship. I want you to be battle ready as soon as possible.”

  They left the ship and returned to the Lady, where they brought the crew up-to-date on their new assignment. There was a meeting with the nucleus of the original crew—Miles Lester, Laurence Conrad, who would be the second lieutenant, and Benjamin Smith, the new master gunner. They met in the captain’s cabin, and as Paul outlined the plan, speaking swiftly and moving with authority, Dan leaned forward and whispered to Charity, “He’s a born leader!”

  They all received their assignments, and Paul continued. “We’ll take on all the powder and shot we can carry. Smith, you’ll get some new hands, experienced men, and I’m expecting you to hit with those guns like they were Kentucky long rifles!”

  Ben Smith, a wiry brown man of few words, spit on the floor before he thought, wiped his mouth with embarrassment, then said, “I’ll shoot the eyes out of them Britishers, Cap’n!”

  “We’ll go out every day for firing practice, and I want you to get the crew so sharp they can spin the Lady around like a shake of a duck’s tail! We’ll likely run up against ships with more fire power, but if we’re ready, they’ll never be able to get a shot at us. Anything else?”

  “I think we ought to investigate Port Royal’s social life, Captain,” Conrad spoke up. “I mean, if we’re going up against the whole British fleet, why, we ought to have a fling first, don’t you agree?”

  Winslow’s white teeth gleamed as he smiled at the lean form of Conrad, and he nodded. “Shore leave for everyone—but in shifts. I want the ship manned and ready for action twenty-four hours a day. One third of the crew can ruin themselves at a time.”

  Conrad let out a long sigh. “Well, then, here I go to the fleshpots to get drunk again.” He shook his head mournfully, and added, “And do I dread it!”

  ****

  There are few spots on planet earth more beautiful than the West Indies in spring, and for the next two weeks the crew of the Lady had the most pleasant time of their lives. The fitting of the ship was not difficult, but the training was hard, though brief. Captain Winslow was a hard-eyed slave-driver during morning drills, pushing the men with a single-minded determination; but when the ship returned to her slip in the afternoon, a third of the crew piled off and eagerly headed for downtown Port Royal.

  Dan and Charity found time to explore the town, though Paul refused to leave the ship until everything was to his liking. It was a time of relaxing pleasure to stroll along the narrow streets, which appeared to have had no preconceived plan as they wound through the ancient city. The two also spent time shopping and watching the pageant.

  One afternoon when they had stopped for a fruit drink, Dan asked suddenly, “Does thee think Paul has changed?”

  She sipped the sweet drink, shrugged, and thought for a moment. Her skin was already a golden color from the southern sun’s rays, and very becoming to her. “Oh, I suppose—but it’s just the responsibility.”

  He studied her profile a while and smiled. He was such a big man that the cup of juice looked fragile in his large hands. He rolled the drink around, took a sip, then commented solemnly, “We have changed, too. How long is it since we were engaged? Now look at us.”

  “Poor Dan!” she comforted teasingly, and her teeth gleamed against the tan as she added, “Be glad you didn’t get me, Dan. I’ll be a frightful wife. Bossy and mean!”

  “Not true!” he protested.

  “Anne will be perfect for you—if you can convert her.”

  He blinked at her in surprise, and she laughed at him and shook his shoulder. “You think I’m blind as well as stubborn? She’s so much in love with you she can’t see straight!”

  “I—I don’t want to rush into a marriage, Charity. Once bit, twice shy, as they say.”

  “Oh, you’re still sensitive over getting passed over by Julie—and by me,” she shrugged. “Does a man no harm to get rejected a few times, Dan. Makes him humble.”

  “It’s not much pleasure. Makes me feel like a fool.”

  She got up and pulled at him until he arose. “Come on, let’s walk. Maybe I’ll make you buy me a parrot.”

  As they left the crowded street and walked along the white beach, she had a thought, and asked him, “Did you ever hear the old tale about how lovers find each other?”

  “Not in the Bible, is it?” he grinned. “Then I don’t know it.”

  “Well, it seems that when God created the world, He made a creature, a beautiful creature and it was both male and female. But this creature did something very wrong, so God tore it into two parts and threw it into the world. Now there were many of these creatures, but all of them had been torn in half, just like you tear a sheet of paper in half, you see?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why, when you tear a paper in half, only the other half of that paper will really fit, you simpleton! So the male half and the female half of this creature spent their lives searching through the whole world to find each other.”

  “So they could fit properly together again?”

  “Of course! So in this world every man has to search for the one woman that’s a perfect fit for him—and the woman does the same. And I think that Anne Winslow is the one you’re looking for, Dan. Neither Julie nor I would really ‘fit’ you.”r />
  “And who is the other half of thee, Charity?” Dan asked quietly, pulling her to a stop and looking at her intently.

  She was taken off guard, and to her extreme disgust, tears gathered in her eyes. He put his arm around her, murmuring softly, “I think that thee does know the answer to that.”

  She sobbed against his shoulder, her words muffled as she uttered, “I do love him so, Dan!”

  He held her until she finally pulled herself away, then handed her a large white handkerchief. “It’s clean,” he remarked.

  “What are we going to do, Dan?” she moaned. “We’ve both given our lives to God—though I’m just a baby at such things—and we can’t marry anyone who’s not going after the Lord.”

  “Why, we must ask God to change them,” he replied. “He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all we ask or think.”

  “Well, I can think a lot,” she spouted, a tremulous smile touching her lips. “But it’s a big order—even for God.”

  They got back to the ship to find Paul bright-eyed with excitement. “Where’ve you been? Never mind—I’ve got a word from de Grass!”

  “We’re pulling out?” Dan asked, his eyes shining.

  “Not right now, not today—but soon. Here’s what he told me this afternoon. He’s let word get to Rodney that he’s sick, that he’s going to take the fleet back to France. And he’s even giving a farewell ball to make them swallow the bait.”

  “Then what?”

  “After the ball when Rodney is lulled to sleep, de Grass will slip away, but not to France. Our fleets will go to drive the British fleet away from the coast, and then Washington can move on Yorktown to whip Cornwallis.”

  “It will work!” Dan agreed instantly. “Always before, when we whipped the British, they’d back up to that fleet, and we couldn’t do a thing. With the French there, Cornwallis won’t have anyplace to hide.”

  “Get your best dress ready, Charity,” Paul laughed happily. “I’m taking you to a ball, and we have to make the English spies think it’s the real thing!”

  “I don’t have a dress!”

  “Well, get one!” he commanded. “I’m not taking you to a fancy ball in those breeches, and that’s final!”

  “Aye, Captain Winslow!” She snapped to attention and gave him a mock salute. “I’ll be in uniform when you come to take me to the ball.”

  The secret was guarded so carefully that even the men in the fleet were persuaded that the armada would sail for France. The ball was the talk of the whole island, and everybody with any pretension to social standing wrangled an invitation.

  On the evening of the ball, Paul put on his uniform: snowy white breeches and a blue coat with one epaulette on his right shoulder. He wore Gilbert Winslow’s sword at his side, and his long black hair was tied back with a white ribbon.

  He went on deck, and saw that the gig was ready. Just as he was about to ask where Charity was, she came up the ladder. He stared at her as if she were an alien creature from another planet.

  She had managed to have a dress made by a woman on the island who sewed, and it had not turned out quite as she expected. The woman had spoken little English; she had done a beautiful job, but she was accustomed to making dresses for her own people—who wore their dresses cut much lower than was usual in Boston.

  Charity had picked up the dress the day of the ball, and had not tried it on until she got back to her cabin. She slipped it on, then stood aghast, staring into the mirror. It was a beautiful dress, made of some frothy material she did not know, with ribbons of green interwoven through the hems of the white cloth. It fit perfectly—but she gave a gasp when she saw how low the seamstress had cut the neckline. She quickly gave a tug to lift it higher, but it was useless, for the dress fit like a glove.

  “I can’t go like this!’ she wailed, and stood there staring at herself. “He’ll think I’m a—a hussy!”

  But it was only an hour before the gig left—so finally she set her jaw and declared through clenched teeth, “I’m going to that ball if I have to go stark naked!”

  And when Paul Winslow looked at her as she came up to him on the deck, he batted his eyes, for he had never seen anything more beautiful!

  She stood there challenging him defiantly with her large green eyes and said, “Well—are we going, or are you just going to stand there staring at me?” Despite her words, her face was red, and she pulled a thin shawl around her shoulders.

  “You look ravishing, Charity,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the gig. The boat was full, and Dan took one look at her, then smiled broadly, though he said only, “Well, thee is all dressed up for the party, I see.”

  The ball was held at the great ballroom of Government House. It was a grand affair, with light from a thousand candles flashing on gold sword hilts, setting aglow the decorations of noble and distinguished officers. The Count de Grass, with the wife of the governor on his arm, led the grand march, the blue, white and gold of uniforms making a splash of color.

  “I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight!” Charity murmured, clutching Paul’s arm tightly. She looked carefully at the beautifully gowned ladies, their white shoulders and bosoms bathed in soft loveliness from the golden light of the candles, and felt less conspicuous in her own dress.

  The evening sped by, and she found herself in Paul’s arms, gliding across the floor. He held her loosely, but she was conscious of his strong arms around her. She danced with other officers, and when he came to her and suggested, “Let’s get a breath of air,” she was ready.

  They stepped outside, moving away from the palace until they came to an open garden. The music and the sound of voices were muted as she stood beside a fountain with him.

  He said nothing for such a long time that she began to get nervous. But then he looked at her and said, “I remember a time like this, Charity. It was the first thing from my past that came to me—and now it’s all as clear as if it happened yesterday! I can remember all of it!” His voice rose with excitement, and he took her hands unconsciously as he cried, “All of it! Not just bits and pieces!”

  “Tell me, Paul!” she begged.

  “Why, I was in love with Abigail and so was Nathan—but both of us were fools, though we didn’t know it. And it was at a ball like this that Nathan took her out to a garden and I followed them. I was ready to kill both of them.” He shook his head in wonder as he continued. “I betrayed Nathan to the British, and he was almost executed. What a fool I was!”

  She asked quietly, “Do you remember—about us, Paul?”

  He stared at her, then nodded grimly. “Some of it I do. I remember you coming into the inn looking for help for Julie—and I remember getting drunk and taking you upstairs.”

  She reached up slowly and touched the scar on his face. “Do—do you remember when I gave you this?”

  He put his hand on hers and shook his head. “No, thank God. I was too drunk, I suppose—and that’s one memory I never want to come back. What a swine I am!”

  She left her hand on his face and shook her head swiftly. “No! You’ve changed, Paul. Your father spoke to me about it. He said you did die in some ways—that the man you were doesn’t exist. And he’s so proud of you—and so am I!”

  “Are you, Charity?” he whispered, his face pale in the silver moonlight. “Are you fond of me?”

  “Yes!” she whispered, letting him take her in his arms and press his lips to hers. It was not a demanding kiss, but gentle and sweet.

  When he lifted his head he said evenly, “I want to marry you.”

  She stared at him and stammered, “But—what about Blanche?”

  “What about her?”

  “Why, you’re going to marry her.”

  “No. I went to her before we left New York. You do remember I left to go into the city?”

  “I—I believe I do remember something about it.”

  He laughed and squeezed her in a delightful fashion. “Oh, Charity, you didn’t speak to me for
days! You were jealous, weren’t you?”

  “Of course I was!” Her eyes flashed and she pulled back from him. “And what did you two have to say? Was it a loving reunion?”

  “Not exactly,” he said dryly. “I managed to sneak out to their summer place and send a message inside. She sent a note back. Would you like to see it?” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.

  She took it from him and held it to the yellow light shining from the windows of the house.

  You are a traitor to your country! it stated in large letters. If you don’t leave at once, I’ll notify my father and you will be shot as you deserve!

  “So much for my hopes,” he sighed. He took the paper, tore it to shreds and tossed it into the air, saying, “Now that is settled—will you marry me?”

  She longed to throw herself into his arms, but she shook her head. “I want to, Paul. I love you so much! But something has happened to me.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “It was when your grandmother died. I called on God—and He came into my life.” She peered up at him, her eyes filled with tears, and said, “I belong to God, Paul—and the man I marry will have to belong to Him, too.”

  He stood there, his face lean and his eyes fixed on her. Finally he said, “I seem to be running into God at every turn. All I can say is, I can’t go to God just to please you. That would be wrong—but I tell you this, Charity, everything I’ve seen that’s good in this world has been in the form of one of God’s people. I want that goodness in my own soul.”

  She touched his cheek gently, and then whispered, “You will find God, Paul! You will find Him!” And her eyes were filled with faith as they turned to go inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  THE DUEL

  The plan of de Grass to pull Hood’s eyes away from the French fleet was a success—or so it seemed from the reports of the informants who brought news to the count. He waited for two weeks, and was gratified to learn that Hood’s squadron had moved away from their position toward the north. De Grass acted immediately, issuing orders that the entire fleet move out. The fleet set sail two days later, and according to the count’s orders, took a course that would lead to France rather than America.