The Wilde Flower Saga: A Contrary Wind (Historical Adventure Series)

by Schulz, Marilyn M

  Sir Edward sighed.

  "All right,” the Vice-Admiral said. “His Majesty is building a new ship, a top-notch vessel that would make any captain proud."

  Sir Edward felt a sinking feeling mixed in with the welcome anticipation. "And the price of this vessel?"

  "The price?"

  "I take it that my duty is not the usual fare, take a few merchant convoys, fire in a few sea battles, storm a fortress or two. I am to be offered command if I volunteer for this mysterious mission."

  "Smart boy, clever like your mother. The ship has a frigate rating, but it is meant to be even faster than most, with a few more guns as well. It has to do with the design of the hull I am told, something we got from our spies in America. But how they conjured all that is a puzzle to me. I never have been fond of mathematics. Oh, I can navigate a course and calculate my share . . . “

  Sir Edward wondered if the rumors about the American frigates were true.

  A frigate is a ship characterized by high speed and medium size. It has one deck of guns and is made to fight its way out of trouble. But its main purpose is for scouting and communications in the fleet, though it was often used to pick off merchant ships, commonly called merchantmen, during blockade.

  Frigate crews were allowed to keep a portion of the profits from these captures, so service on these ships was preferable to many other vessels. A captain on a frigate got a quarter of the prize, and from that, he could become quite a rich man.

  But the new American Navy had recently innovated something the British had first perfected long ago.

  Ships in the Royal Navy were rated by number of gun decks, number of guns, and overall tonnage—that is, by size, power, and purpose. First-rated ships had three gun-decks with a total of 100 to 120 cannon. These were ships meant for conquest, used in major sea battles as ships of the line (the line of battle), and to storm ports and fortresses. They were heavy and did not maneuver quickly or easily.

  Single gun-deck ships included frigates, post ships, and unrated vessels. For example, a sixth-rated post ship had twenty to twenty-four guns, whereas unrated vessels had four to eighteen. Vessels like these could be used as supply ships, dispatch vessels, or even pleasure vessels of the ranking admiralty officers and peerage.

  Frigates were typically fifth-rated, with thirty-two to forty-four guns, or sixth-rated with twenty-eight. The frigate hulls were designed to mimic a fish in order to travel fast in the water. Because of this shape—along with three masts, the built-up forecastle and quarterdeck (fore and aft), and the placement of guns on the deck—addition of any more cannon might make the hull buckle and break in the middle.

  This was not true of the first US Navy frigates, whose hulls were reinforced with additional beams in a precisely engineered-arrangement for strength. This design allowed the hulls to be longer, especially when constructed with the strong timbers from virgin American forests: oak, hard pine, red cedar. American frigates were rated at forty-four guns, but sometimes carried more than fifty without danger of breaking the hull in two. This gave them an advantage in battle against similarly rated vessels.

  Sir Hugh was still blabbering about his school days and mathematics. Sir Edward didn’t mean to sigh, it just came out.

  “Right, I wander in my thoughts, and you want to get on about your business,” Sir Hugh said. “You are to act as liaison to the French Royalists inside France, here in England, and all points in between."

  "A courier service, sir? Ferrying spies back and forth hardly seems—"

  "What a small way of looking at it, Edward, though some might say that is so."

  "Your pardon, Sir Hugh, but your point is unclear."

  The older man was slowly shaking his head as he spoke. "That is because I do not like it, my boy. I just do not care for the games of brinkmanship."

  "Brinkmanship? I would call it stealth at best, spying at worst."

  Sir Hugh wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and then leaned back in his chair. "It is important for the Republicans to know that the Royalists and the British couriers, spies, if you prefer, may come and go as they will. In the mean time, we must have vital information, and information is only vital if we have it in time."

  “In time for what?”

  Sir Hugh didn’t answer.

  Sir Edward accepted that as answer enough, for a frigate captain was not usually privy to the machinations of the Admiralty.

  "Is that wise?” he said. “If you want me to transport the people back and forth, why advertise their conduct? It seems an unwarranted announcement of our actions. It is asking for trouble. Why not take them on a fishing boat or supply ship? Surely their vanity may be sacrificed for their personal safety?"

  "The French are not our only concern. It must be made clear that we may come and go as we wish. It must also be shown that the Republicans are not unchallenged within France, and that investing too heavily in French promises might be a losing venture."

  "To our current enemies, you mean. We must then have a regard for the Spanish and others as well?"

  The Vice-Admiral held out his hands as if balancing the two groups in his palms for the reasoning. "The Republicans are the same French we have always fought. Their leaders have changed, but not their hearts. The only difference now is that they also have an enemy within."

  "The Royalist cause."

  "Correct, and it is a form of blatancy that we hope will find them unnerved and overly protective."

  Sir Edward added, "And in doing so, reveal themselves and their true priorities."

  Sir Hugh stood up again and started pacing as he mumbled, “By trying to hide something, you also reveal its importance."

  Sir Edward grunted. "That may be too cunning for our own good."

  Sir Hugh’s pacing stopped. "Never underestimate yourself, Edward, or overestimate your allies."

  "In this case, do you mean the Royalists, or the British Admiralty?"

  Sir Hugh winked. "Would you like to go down to the harbor to see your new command, such as it is? I hear it is far from completed inside, but the outside looks very fine. Personally, I think they are already spending too much time polishing brass and varnishing panels because the pips in the Admiralty are admiring it so and are in no hurry to give it a launch."

  "That I would, sir, I would like to go."

  "You will have your pick from your present mariners, of course, though it already has a crew well planned, I am assured—some of the best of the fleet. Others might say they are some of the best positions that money could buy, but there it is, same as always. Take those you need of your own, you have priority in this."

  Sir Edward hesitated. "Is it that important?"

  "Until something else comes up to get their attention," Sir Hugh said. He pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

  Sir Edward said absently, "Oh, yes, the marriageable season is fast approaching."

  Sir Hugh looked up. "Not too impressed with your social peers, are you, lad?"

  "I show the proper respect."

  "You do not feel it, you merely show it."

  Sir Edward said nothing more.

  "Never mind, I do not blame you, but you must see that it is all to better your career."

  "I had not really thought of much more than what I have now," Sir Edward said.

  "You like the action and the spoils, but you cannot raise hell forever, boy. Listen to me, calling you boy. You are long past being a mere boy. I suppose it is my way of denying my own age."

  “You are not alone in that, I hear, but more from women than men.”

  The Vice-Admiral laughed. “No wonder my wife finds you such a challenge.”

  Sir Edward continued, "So the good news is that I will get command of this new ship, and the bad news is that in the mean time, I must act as a ferryman to the French spies in hopes the Republicans and their allies show their hand while trying to catch us."

  "When you put it like that, it does sound trivial. But no, good heavens, that part is
all the good news. The bad news is that Millicent is having yet another dinner tonight. You cannot escape it this time, I fear. She saw you come in."

  Sir Edward let out the deep sigh of the defeated. He said, "Definitely a higher authority."

  "Do not worry, I will make it up to you. Some how."

  They both laughed, but not with much heart.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 07 - The Dinner Party

  That evening, under the enthusiastic guidance of Lady Millicent Tobin, society folks worth their salt were presented to those who were not. Names were announced; impressive people strolled in. The Lady immediately latched onto Kate as the oddity she felt like and then swept her around the room with over-familiarity.

  Sir Hugh was standing by Sir Edward, probably because the host figured he might bolt. Sir Hugh was clearly proud of his young wife as he watched her from across the room. She had been the beauty of the season in London a few years ago, and the Vice-Admiral indulged his second wife in everything, it seemed.

  Sir Edward was left to stare at the woman next to his hostess, the one who had been lying unconscious in his arms and in his cabin only hours before. Eventually, the women came round to them.

  "Where are my manners? Frightfully lacking as usual,” Lady Millicent said, feigning laughter as if it was shocking. “Kate, may I present my husband, the Vice-Admiral Sir Hugh Tobin."

  The host smiled and bowed slightly as she nodded her head politely and curtsied a bit. She did not look at ease doing either, and she didn’t look at Sir Edward at all. But he wasn’t going to wait for his own introduction, the captain was about to mention their prior meeting, but only managed to open his mouth a few times like a carp.

  What could he say? Nice to see you now that you are out of that tree and cogent again . . . now that you have clothes on . . . now that you’ve returned my stolen rowboat?

  At prompting from her husband, Lady Millicent began again, “Kate, this is—“

  But she was interrupted when another man stepped in. "My dear, I see you have made some new friends.” Then he turned to the others, “Ambrose Standish, liaison to the Crown, representing the interests of the government of the United States of America."

  When he bowed in greeting, as propriety called for, Sir Edward caught a blast of Scotch and something like stale sardines. At that, the Tobins greeted the man politely, and then excused themselves.

  Kate glanced around, almost desperate, and then gave an open smile of recognition. Or was that relief? Then she excused herself with just a slight curtsy. She hadn't acknowledged the captain’s existence at all. It made him feel strangely left out of the gathering he hadn't wanted to be part of anyway.

  He said to Standish, "You have a charming wife, sir.”

  Ambrose choked on his drink. "Katie? Good heavens, she's not my wife. I don't even think she likes me all that much."

  Sir Edward had to admit that he felt some relief in that. He said, "Such is not so unusual in a marriage as you might think."

  "No, so I hear, but I have never been that lucky. Kate doesn't have to marry for fortune, not that I have one as yet. Nor does she care about position, come to think of it, so she doesn't have to marry at all. And if she did marry, it wouldn't be me, if for no other reason, than for the simple fact that I remind her too much of the past."

  "She has a sordid past?" Sir Edward felt small for asking and immediately regretted it. But it was already out, and Standish didn't seem to notice his discomfort.

  "A tragic past. Her family was lost on the frontier. Except for her father, that is, sad man. He buried himself in his work after that, which was lucky for Kate, I suppose."

  "How so?"

  "He was a merchant, a trader, with ships. He took her with him when she was only a small child and neither of them looked back. Now, he's gone and she's rich and alone."

  "Excuse me, but who are you?"

  "Ambrose Standish—"

  "I know your name."

  From behind, Sir Hugh tapped Sir Edward on the shoulder and winked, then walked away again. Sir Edward watched him for a moment, unsure what was meant by the gesture. Something to do with Lady Millicent’s matchmaking, no doubt, he figured. Meanwhile, Standish was still talking.

  " . . . a dreary diplomat who is only invited to these affairs to satisfy protocol or match up the number of the gents to the ladies."

  "A life's calling then?" Sir Edward said.

  "That's one way to look at it. Just how well do you know our Kate?"

  "Not well at all. I mean that I do not know her at all."

  Standish looked skeptical, but he was saved from further questions by the gong announcing dinner. It seemed like forever before everyone was seated. Sir Edward glanced around at the guests. Some were old military men with their old military wives in attendance. The uniforms were full-dress and seemed a bit dusty.

  A few guests were younger, though many were near enough to his own age. The men looked the same either way, most in uniform of some sort. Still, he felt out of place.

  The ladies wore modest to audacious jewelry, but most had elaborate hair. Sir Edward wondered what would happen if they should come on a great wind. Perhaps he could use the hair if he ever lost a sail. The notion made him smile despite his mood.

  Sir Edward sat across from Kate, but the conversation was too lively elsewhere for them to speak. She answered quietly and to the point as her companions on either side, both retired military men, babbled on. He knew the men, they would never surrender, particular with a lovely woman between.

  His own companions seemed interested elsewhere, or maybe he just wished them so. His eyes kept coming back to Kate, who he’d seen up close in his arms in the park and again there in his cabin. Now with the safe distance of the table between them, he couldn’t help but study her more.

  She had sea green eyes with a healthy dose of gold—gold and the sea. Eyes a pirate would love, he decided. They held a touch of rebellion deep within them, and he had already decided that it was as much from her temperament as from their color.

  She wore a triple strand of pearls at her neck, and nothing at her ears. Her hair was done up neatly now with no comb, but little curls escaped at the nape of her neck and a bit around her face. It made her seem softer, younger than the other women around him. Then her eyebrow went up slightly, just the one, and the opposite side of her mouth twisted into a crooked little smile. It gave her face an inquisitive quirk that he found comical and maybe too charming.

  Sir Edward flushed when he realized he had been staring at her and that she had been staring back. She was very good at it—this kind of confrontation—she didn’t blush at all.

  He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out gruff when he said, "That bracelet you wear, it is interesting."

  She leaned over her plate as if to speak to only him, "It’s the wind."

  He could only manage, "The wind?"

  She nodded. "So says an Abenaki woman of many medicines.”

  “Abenaki?” he repeated.

  “Abenaki, People of the Dawn. Natives in Vermont, New Hampshire, some further north. But I believe she got the wood first from the Ojibway or maybe it was Cherokee. I’m told they prize such things, though not told by one of their own. You know how traders make up things.”

  He said nothing, but she didn’t seem to notice him or anyone else anymore.

  “It’s lightening-struck wood,” she said without looking up from her admiring gaze on the wooden ornament. She slid it further up her wrist as she spoke, and turned it round and round. “They believe that such wood has been kissed by the spirits. Some say it’s a bad omen, makes crops wither, bad luck to be near such a stricken tree.

  “Though others think just the opposite, that’s true. The wise woman gave it to me when I was born, the wood, not the wind, I mean.” She paused and turned her head a bit to an angle. “Or do you think they might be the same thing?”

  She didn’t wait, but continued, “I was small enough then fo
r the band to slip up over my hand, and my mother left it on for some reason. I was never quite sure why the wise woman did it. My mother thought it was a token of friendship, perhaps. But I have come to think sometimes that it might be a curse.”

  He said with some genuine surprise, “You have worn it since then?”

  “Aye. It’s hardwood and well-tended even before I first got hold, for I’m also told that the carving is very old.”

  He said, “And you say it is the wind?” He couldn’t help his own smile now.

  “Aye, same as and good enough. This lets me call up the wind whenever I have a need. It’s a very magical thing."

  His own eyebrows rose

  She twisted the bracelet on her wrist again. “Have you never been becalmed, sir?”

  On occasion, every sailor has lost the wind and drifted on a calm ocean with nowhere to go. Sometimes the wait was too long, and they had to row, if for no other reason than to keep the men busy and away from thinking too much. Sometimes, in some places, the wind never did catch them again. Those ships just drifted away on the currents, it was said, until all aboard were dead from thirst or starvation or dread.

  He said, "And does it work, the black magic, I mean?"

  "It's not black magic at all. I’m sure that if I had to call up the wind, I would use what I need, and then pass it on. You probably do the same all the time, you just don’t think about it."

  He laughed. So did the men around her.

  She looked at him seriously then for an uncommonly long time.

  "What are you discussing with such amusement?" Lady Millicent called from her end of the table.

  "Ancient rituals and pagan spirits," Kate said and returned her eyes to her plate.

  One of the old soldiers wiped at his mustache before he asked Kate, "I notice you have a colonial accent. Where were you born, my dear?"

  “On a ship, I was told. I don’t recall the details myself, but I’m betting it was during a storm. They stuck me in a corner at the time, well out of the way and far from the view, so it could have been anywhere.”

  “A ship, why Neptune's child from day one,” Sir Hugh said from his end of the table. “And you are still a world traveler, I am told.”