Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  These thoughts helped Emily get through this dreadful time. She had to remain optimistic and believe all would be well. If she did not, she was afraid she could not bear saying good-bye to Jonathon.

  • • •

  They finally reached Hampton Roads and turned the ship toward Norfolk. Emily sensed the tension in Jonathon. He checked and rechecked charts. He studied the documents James had given him for their safe passage into Norfolk. He peered out at the horizon in all directions looking, Emily supposed, for other ships. Friendly or unfriendly.

  At last, one evening, they began to sail toward land. The crew seemed nervous and apprehensive, each man checking the shore and the horizon numerous times. The air was charged with unspoken tension. Emily could bear it no more; she searched out Jonathon and found him on the deck.

  “What is it, Jonathon?” she asked. “Why do I sense this apprehension in everyone?”

  Jonathon placed his hands on her shoulders. “It is becoming very dangerous to enter some of these ports, Em. We have heard that Dunmore is making mischief in Norfolk. We will all feel better when we have put that town behind us.”

  Emily looked into his warm, brown eyes. “It will be like this for you from now on, will it not? Like this and worse.”

  “I do not know, love. I have been careful so far, and I intend to continue to be careful. After all, I have a beautiful wife with very eager arms waiting for me, have I not? A man would be a fool to not be careful with the welcome I expect to receive when we are together again.”

  He pulled her close and held her for a long time. Silent tears traced a path down Emily’s cheeks. She recognized that he was putting on a brave front and trying to sound lighthearted for her, and she knew she needed to be strong for him as well. He pressed a kiss on her forehead and looked into her eyes. He wiped her tears and smiled.

  “Be my brave lady, Em. Keep praying, and God will protect us and bring us together again. I know that. Believe it, love.”

  He kissed her gently, and she left him to check on Martha. James was with her, and they chatted for a while, each trying to cheer the other.

  They reached the port in Norfolk at night on December 31. The Destiny stayed a distance out while some crew members boarded a small row boat to check the situation on shore. All seeming to be quiet, they sailed in closer.

  Jonathon ordered the sails trimmed, but insisted the crew be ready to sail at a moment’s notice. There would be enough men on duty throughout the night to put out to sea if need be.

  Jonathon and James prepared to go ashore accompanied by a few members of the crew. It was tempting to allow the crew ashore for some leave before the long voyage across the Atlantic, but Jonathon decided to get in and out as quickly as possible.

  Jonathon took Emily off to the side. He looked deeply into her eyes then pulled her close.

  “Em, there are so many things I want to tell you right now. Just know how much I love you. When I return tonight, I will show you how much, you will have no doubt,” he said softly. He bent his head, and his lips found hers. He held her tightly and could not bear to let her go. When Mr. Gates coughed discreetly, Jonathon released her, his eyes holding hers for a moment. Then he turned to leave.

  Jonathon, James, and a few crew members climbed into the rowboat, and the oars silently dipped in the water as they headed toward the shore. As Emily watched them, she felt heaviness throughout her body. She wanted to remain at that spot until she could see them rowing back to the ship.

  The breeze picked up and the temperature fell. Emily had been standing there for over an hour when Mr. Gates approached her.

  “Missy, they will be gone most of the night,” he said gently. “Why not get some sleep? I promise I will call you when they are in sight.”

  Emily reluctantly agreed and went to her cabin. She lay in bed a long time before sleep finally overtook her. She awakened as dawn was just breaking in the southeast horizon. Something bothered her, but she was not fully enough awake to know what it was. Slowly she became aware of increased activity on deck. It seemed hurried and intense, and she suspected that Jonathon was returning. She rose quickly and bundled into her cape.

  On deck, men were scrambling in all directions. Emily ran to the spot where she had kept vigil the night before. Peering into the darkness, she tried to spot the rowboat. As she watched, other shapes became visible; ships lined the entrance to the port. They began to load their cannon and fire on the town. The night air was shattered as the cannon exploded into a deafening roar. Flames shot up where the guns hit their mark. Emily watched in horror as homes, warehouses, shops all caught fire and began to burn. In the fiery red glow she spotted the rowboat with Jonathon and James in it.

  The men in the small boat strained at the oars, pulling their hardest. Behind them came a similar vessel, more heavily manned and closing fast. Jonathon and James sat side-by-side working their oars in unison. It was a futile attempt, and soon the second boat was within firing range. A British soldier stood shakily in the skiff and fired, hitting one of the crew. The man slumped over and fell to the floor of the boat. Jonathon roared a command to pull harder and put more effort into his own task.

  Emily stood frozen in place as she watched the scene before her. She suddenly realized that the Destiny was preparing to sail, and she panicked. The second vessel was closer to Jonathon’s now, and two more soldiers began to fire on it. One by one Jonathon’s men arched and fell when they were hit.

  “Jonathon, hurry!” Emily screamed.

  The Destiny’s sails were raised and billowing.

  “No!” Emily screamed. “Wait, please, wait!” she cried in horror.

  The rowboat was almost overtaken. She saw Jonathon gesturing to the Destiny to go. Emily’s heart wrenched as she grasped the situation. Her mind screamed in terror. Her eyes were locked on the boat that held her beloved Jonathon.

  A shot rang out. Jonathon reeled to the left and grabbed at the oar. James caught him and kept him from falling overboard. Another shot rang out, and Emily saw the blood spurt from James’ face. Her stomach turned over, and she thought she would retch. But her eyes were glued on Jonathon. He and one other crewman feebly worked the oars. He half stood, then stumbled and fell into the sea.

  “Jonathon!” Emily screamed. “Jonathon!” The British skiff sailed up to the other boat. A final shot finished the last crewman, and he sprawled over his companions on the floor of the boat. Emily watched as the British soldiers pulled Jonathon’s body aboard their skiff and started rowing back to shore. She felt rooted in place.

  “Mr. Gates!” she screamed. “Gates!”

  He had seen the whole incident, but had been readying the ship for its escape. Two other British ships were sailing toward them in an attempt to block their passage out into open water. Gates quickly reached the girl.

  “Do something, please! Oh, God, do something!” she cried as she grabbed his lapels.

  Gates’s heart was torn. His friend was gone. He must follow his captain’s orders and get the Destiny safely away.

  In shock, Emily looked out at the British skiff that held Jonathon. Jonathon’s body.

  Her legs gave way, and all was darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Emily slowly rose to consciousness. The rocking motion of the ship had a soothing quality. Her eyes felt heavy; she could barely open her lids. Suddenly the image of Jonathon falling into the sea brought her fully awake. She sat up with a scream.

  Mr. Gates came over to her bed swiftly and took her hand. The comprehension that Jonathon’s death was real overwhelmed Emily, and she began to wail. Gates held her shuddering form as she sobbed forth her sorrow. Tears filled his eyes as he sought to deal with the loss of his dearest friend.

  “No!” she sobbed. “Oh, dear God! No, no, no!”

  Emily’s body was wracked with anguish. Her throat ached, a
nd she thought she would be sick. She grabbed Gates’s jacket and crumpled the lapels in her fists. She shook her head back and forth not willing to believe the truth.

  Gates murmured empty consolation to her not believing his own words. He stroked her hair and spoke gently, as if to a child.

  “There, there, missy. We must be away. Jonathon would want you and his child to be as safe as possible,” he said.

  The sound of Jonathon’s name tore Emily’s heart in two.

  “Oh, my God, no!” she sobbed.

  Gates rose and went to a table where he had a flask of brandy. He brought it to her. Emily turned away; too many memories flooded in as she looked at the flask.

  “Please, Missy,” Gates coaxed. “You must think of your child now. You must calm down and rest.”

  “No, I do not want any! Please, Mr. Gates. Please find Jonathon,” she begged.

  “Jonathon is gone, missy. I am sorry,” he said gently.

  “No!” she screamed. “No!” Again she shook with desperate tears. Gates looked at her helplessly. All he could do was hold her.

  Emily cried herself into an exhausted sleep. She awoke in darkness and lay staring at the ceiling. She denied to herself that Jonathon was gone; she willed it to be untrue. It was all a bad dream. But the reality of the scene played over and over in her mind. She felt empty and hollow. Her body was cold and numb. Nothing mattered.

  Emily remained in bed, unaware of how much time passed. All feeling was drained; all reason for living seemed gone. She wanted to die.

  Gates came to her room the next morning. Concerned by her lethargy and the dull look in her eyes, he brought a tray of food for her, but it went untouched.

  “Missy, I cannot begin to know your sorrow. But I am concerned for your child. You must keep up your strength for your child. Please eat something,” he pleaded.

  “I cannot,” she said slowly.

  “Please try, missy. Just some bread.”

  Emily reluctantly bit into a biscuit and began to chew it. She could not swallow it. Her throat was dry, and a lump was always there, threatening more sobs. She finally managed to get it down, then jumped up and ran to the basin retching violently.

  “Oh, missy, are you all right?” Gates cried as he poured out some water. He led her back to the bed and helped her lie down. He soaked a cloth and gently washed her face. Then he poured fresh water in a cup and gave it to her.

  “Try this. Drink it slowly,” he urged.

  Emily took the cup and sipped. She waited and then took another. The water stayed down. She lay back upon the pillows.

  “Just try to sleep now, missy,” Gates said softly.

  Exhaustion overcame her, and Emily slept most of the day. That evening she was finally able to take a few bites of food, but she remained in the cabin.

  She felt as if she were walking in a dream. Everything seemed so unreal; nothing seemed to matter. She dozed and awakened on and off throughout the night. When she awoke she did not open her eyes, as if that would keep away the awful sights she had witnessed. She pressed her fists into her closed eyes willing away the vision of Jonathon’s body being hauled aboard the British skiff. But the vision persisted.

  In the morning she took a little more food and sat with Gates for a while.

  “How is Martha?” she finally asked. Emily judged she should be feeling guilty for having forgotten about Martha, but she did not feel anything.

  “Mrs. Cosgrove is not well. The news of her husband’s death was a terrible blow to her,” Gates replied.

  “You know that they are all … dead?” Emily could barely say the word.

  “Yes. We recovered James and the others from the boat, and the British took Jonathon’s … body.” It was difficult for Gates to say, but he knew Emily needed to face the reality of the situation if she were to eventually recover from her grief.

  Emily stared ahead. All of her strength went into blocking out the scenes of horror she had witnessed. She could not bear to think of them.

  “Mrs. Brentwood,” Gates said, calling her back from her daze. She started at his voice. “We have some decisions to make. I have orders to keep your safety as my first priority. We are out at sea now, but getting to London may be difficult.”

  “I am not going to London,” Emily stated flatly.

  Gates waited. Emily was surprised he did not argue with her.

  “Please take me back to Yorktown. I want to return to Brentwood Manor.”

  Gates stared out the window for a few moments.

  “I do not think Mrs. Cosgrove could make the trip to London. And I think there is as much peril in that voyage now as there is in returning you to your home. Aye, Missy, I shall get you back to Brentwood Manor,” he agreed.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gates,” she said as her eyes filled with tears.

  • • •

  Emily’s listlessness continued, but she knew she must check on Martha. She finally roused herself enough to go to the woman’s cabin. What she found jarred her out of her state.

  Martha lay on her bed with her eyes closed. Her face was as pale as the muslin pillow cover; her cheeks were sunken to a deathly hollowness. She opened her eyes when Emily entered.

  “Rebecca, is that you? I asked you to bring in the flowers for the table. You know our guests will be here shortly. Hurry, girl, and get them now,” she said, her glazed eyes on Emily.

  “Martha, it is I, Emily,” she said softly, frightened for the woman.

  “Emily, how well you are looking,” Martha said brightly. “Hurry, child, you must dress for the ball. All the finest young men will be there falling over one another to meet you.”

  Emily stared at the woman; she did not know what to say.

  “I hope you wear that blue gown, it matches your eyes perfectly. You will be the belle of the ball, enchanting all the young men. But I wonder if you see how Jonathon looks at you — ”

  Emily’s stomach lurched at the sound of his name.

  “Martha, do you know where we are? Can you hear what I am saying?”

  Martha’s eyes went dark; she frowned as tears welled up in her eyes.

  “James? Where is James, Emily? They tried to tell me he was killed, but he was not, was he? Tell me the truth, Emily. James is well, is he not? Why are they lying to me and telling me such awful things?” Martha asked.

  “Martha, I am so sorry,” Emily said as she sank into the chair beside the bed.

  “No! Not you, too!” Martha screamed.

  Emily reached for the woman’s hand, but Martha struck out at her.

  “Do not touch me! How dare you come here and tell me these lies!” the woman shrieked at her.

  Emily was shaken. She stood, unable to decide what she should do. Just then Gates entered and went to Martha. He held a glass out to her.

  “There, there, Martha. It is all right now,” he said soothingly. “Here, drink this, you will feel better.”

  Martha eyed him suspiciously and looked at the cup. He nodded reassuringly at her. Slowly she reached for the cup and sipped its contents. She looked past him at Emily, her eyes brightened, and she smiled.

  “There you are, Emily. See if you can find Rebecca, dear. She is supposed to bring in flowers for the table. Where can that girl be?” She lay back against the pillow. “You really must hurry and dress, my dear. The ball will be one of the best, I think, and that blue dress looks so lovely on you … .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes slowly closed.

  Emily looked at Gates in fear.

  “What is it? What has happened to her?” she asked.

  “She never really recovered from the shock of the fire. I am afraid the shock of losing James was just too much for her. I do not know if she will ever recover,” he replied sadly.

  “Oh, my God,” Emily whi
spered. She sank into a chair and gazed at the woman. How changed Martha was from the lively, jovial woman who had welcomed her so warmly.

  “What can I do for her?” Emily asked numbly.

  Gates was relieved. Emily would get through this horrible time. She was compassionate and courageous, even in her mourning, able to care for another.

  “You are a strong woman, Mrs. Brentwood,” he said softly.

  Emily looked up at him in confusion.

  “I do not feel strong, Mr. Gates. I feel tired,” she said quietly. “And alone.”

  • • •

  Emily spent the next days tending Martha. The woman would not eat anything despite Emily’s urging. Just to encourage her, Emily would bring in a hearty tray and eat in front of her. It was only this ruse that made Emily eat anything herself. So her strength grew as she watched Martha’s wane.

  They finally reached Yorktown, but Gates did not pull into the port. He anchored a short distance out and sent several of his men to town on an errand.

  “We shall stay here for a few days, Mrs. Brentwood,” he explained, “until I know the situation on shore.”

  Emily would have thought he was being overcautious if she had not witnessed the scene at Norfolk. She was grateful for his caution … and for his presence.

  The men returned the next day and had added one to their company. Emily gasped in surprise as she saw Randy in the returning boat. He climbed on deck and hurried to her; his eyes filled with sorrow.

  “Emily,” he said as he took her in his arms. “Emily, I am so sorry for you.”

  “And I for you, Randy,” she answered. “I know you were lifelong friends.”

  They held each other and cried, drawing strength from each other and their love of Jonathon.

  Finally Emily pulled back and looked up at him, puzzled.