The Distant Beacon

by T. Davis Bunn

  “Pardon me?”

  “Nothing, Captain. Just affairs of . . .” His voice trailed off as he scribbled busily. He then lifted the candle at the corner of his desk and used it to melt the edge of the redsquare sealing wax. When enough had dribbled onto the base of his parchment, the colonel applied the military seal. “That should see you through our lines and patrols with utmost dispatch.”

  “I thank you, sir.” Gordon looked over the document, rolled it up, and stored it away. “Might I ask of any regions which we should avoid?”

  “All of Massachusetts Colony lies firmly within the grasp of General Howe.” The officer rose to his feet and gave them both a thin smile. “Now if you will excuse me, I must turn my attention to other pressing matters. Captain, my lady, I bid you a safe journey and good day.”

  The most trying hours for Nicole aboard ship had been those of the late afternoon. The ship’s company was busy with end-of-watch duties, and the ceiling to her small cabin thundered with the rushing of wooden clogs.

  An officer from Halifax and his wife were in the cabin next door, on their way to a new posting farther south. But the young woman had not been much company since she was in the early stages of her first pregnancy and feeling poorly.

  That day, as usual, Gordon’s voice could be heard shouting orders to some far reach, though the frigid wind blew the words into indistinguishable fragments. Outside her small window Nicole could hear the creaking of ropes through stubborn winches as the ship’s cargo got hauled up from belowdecks and sent over the side to waiting longboats. Men shouted and groaned beneath the loads, officers called back and forth, the bosun piped his signals, the men hurried about in obedience. Everyone was busy; all had important work at hand. Except for her.

  Nicole had taken to using this period of the day for Bible reading and reflection. When all hands were on deck, there was little room for her. And although Gordon staunchly refused to say so, she knew she was rather in the way. So she sat in the folding chair, positioned so the light from her window fell upon the page, and pondered the words of Scripture.

  Gordon’s voice called out once more, and she found her thoughts following the course of this strong man. While he had said nothing directly, she was certain that if she asked, he would give up his life at sea to be with her on land. And yet still she wouldn’t permit him to pay formal suit. It wasn’t that she did not care for him. She did, and more deeply with each passing day. But try as she might, her concerns were not to be denied.

  The overheard conversation Gordon had had with her father that Sabbath afternoon echoed through her mind. She looked down at the sacred book in her hands and knew Gordon did not share her faith. Oh, he had a certain interest in the Divine. Her father had said it best: Gordon preferred to keep God at arm’s length.

  Here in her cabin, surrounded by the sounds of several hundred men hard at work, she found herself descending into a calm that offered a striking clarity. Nicole stared out her small window at the patch of frothy gray water. She laid her hand on the open page and gave herself over to a keenness of reflection she knew came from other than her own mind and heart. She loved Gordon. There was no questioning the fact. But she was forced to keep these emotions a secret.

  The one other love of her life had been a scalding experience. Jean Dupree had also been a strong man, selfreliant and full of passion. But such passions could have a dark edge to them, hold a harmful appeal. At least for her. Nicole no longer ached for the man she’d left behind in the green Louisiana bayous, but the lessons were with her still. She had grown to live more honestly, to know herself well. She understood a part of her had been captivated by the sense of adventure, of danger, embodied in Jean Dupree.

  A knock at her door drew her around. “Yes,” she called.

  Gordon opened her door without stepping inside. “The men have been hard at it,” he told her, “and the offloading is almost complete.”

  “That is excellent news. When can we depart for the interior?”

  “Tomorrow if you like.” He paused.

  “I am most grateful for your company on this journey, sir,” she said carefully, trying to keep her emotions in check.

  “Miss Nicole, if you will allow me . . .”

  She could tell he was on the verge of speaking his feelings, as he’d been before. “Which men will be accompanying us?” she hurried to ask.

  The tension in Gordon’s shoulders released with an explosive sigh. “Bosun Carter and I have selected a dozen of our best.”

  “Then I am certain no one shall be as safe as I,” she noted with a polite smile. When he remained standing there, filling her doorway, she raised the volume from her lap and asked, “Would you care to join me in my devotions?”

  “Ah. No, thank you. Will you be joining the ship’s officers for dinner?”

  “I would be happy to do so.”

  “Until then.” He bowed stiffly. “Your servant, ma’am.”

  Nicole winced at the force Gordon put to shutting the cabin door. She stared at the scarred wooden surface for a long moment, then whispered softly, “If only you could see how my heart yearns for you. If only you could know what is required.”

  Chapter 7

  The next day it was well past noon before the knock was heard at the door. And it was the bosun who opened it, not Gordon. “Your pardon, my lady. The captain sends his regards and asks if you are ready to begin.”

  “Since early this morning,” she replied, pointing to the one remaining trunk. “That is all I have left on board.”

  “Very good, my lady. The bosun’s chair has been prepared for you.”

  The bosun was a stout barrel-chested man with a deeply seamed face. His strength was immense, and his voice loud as a cannonade. Yet he was a good and fair man, respected by the officers and men alike.

  “Please be so kind as to use my name upon the journey ahead,” she said to him.

  Carter’s features were stained the color of old tobacco from the sun and salt. Which made his teeth shine all the whiter when he smiled. “That I’ll do, Miss Nicole.”

  “Thank you. And the rest of the men should do the same.”

  “Right you are, ma’am. Now if you’ll just come this way.”

  Up on deck, Nicole found herself facing a phalanx of the ship’s company. One of the young lieutenants doffed his hat and said, “We’re all most dismayed to see you depart, my lady.”

  “Thank you, James.” She lifted her voice and said, “Thank you all. I count each of you as a friend, and consider myself the richer for your company.”

  A quiet murmur ran through the gathering, the sound then caught by the biting wind and tossed overboard. But not before Nicole felt her heart swell from the unspoken accolade. She stepped to where the bosun stood holding the swinging chair at the railing. As she was winched up and over the side, the ranking officer commanded, “Present arms!”

  As one, the ship’s company removed their caps and stood bareheaded in the gloomy afternoon. Nicole searched the ruddy faces one more time and suddenly found herself heartsick over yet another journey into the unknown. While being gently lowered to the waiting longboat, she cried, “I shall miss you all!”

  To her surprise, the longboat did not head directly for the Boston harbor’s main landing. Instead it skirted around three groups of fishing vessels and began slipping upstream. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Captain’s orders, ma’am,” Carter replied from his place by the tiller. “We’re to off-load away from prying eyes.”

  The tide and wind were both with them, so they made swift progress. They rounded the city’s final hill into a region of unkempt marsh grass and stunted trees. The scene across the river couldn’t have looked more different. Farmland stretched back as far as she could see. In the distance was a charming village. “What is that, please?”

  “Cambridge is its name, ma’am, and depending on who you’re speaking with, it’s either a den of thieves or a haven for all good men.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “The American garrison is headquartered there, ma’am.”

  “An entire garrison?” Nicole peered across the water in astonishment. “But the colonel told us that all Massachusetts Colony was in British hands.”

  “Aye, I also was told. Which is strange, if you don’t mind me saying, seeing as how we were met on our arrival with a cannonade from a fort taken from our redcoats just last year.”

  Now she could see a variety of flags waving over the village. A trumpet sounded tinny on the wind. “What does this mean?”

  “You’ll have to ask the captain that, ma’am. A good bosun learns to let the officers do the thinking and explaining.” He pointed toward the shoreline, where three carts and a pair of horses waited for them. “Aim for the cut there, lads, and pull hard.”

  The men standing on the riverbank were no longer dressed as Gordon’s seamen. Gone were the navy greatcoats and wooden clogs and buttoned trousers. They now wore high boots, slouch hats, and gray oilskin cloaks. Greeting the hard-faced travelers, Nicole said, “I shall not know any of you without your tarred pigtails.”

  The men grinned, and one seaman replied, “Wouldn’t have cut it off for nobody but the captain.”

  “Been growing it for nigh on twelve years,” another agreed.

  Gordon directed the seamen bearing her trunk toward the nearest cart. “We can’t risk word going out of a bunch of seamen escorting a titled lady inland.” He raised his voice and said, “From this point on, it’s Miss Nicole traveling with us, along to see her family. Nothing more.”

  Nicole nodded agreement.

  “Aye, that’s why the men vied hard for the chance to come along.” Gordon led her to a chestnut mare tethered to the back of the cart. “This filly here has the gentlest mouth of them all, or so it seemed upon first impression. I assumed you would want to ride.”

  “Yes, and she’s lovely.” Nicole stroked the mare’s neck. “I’m sure we are going to be best friends.”

  She held her other comments until the company had mounted and traced their way through the boggy forest to join the road, for Gordon showed a marked impatience to leave Boston behind them. The route was well traveled, with mounted British troops rattling past twice in their first few minutes. They also passed loaded wagons and carts of farm produce and several strings of high-spirited horses. Nearly all the traffic headed into town. Nicole watched the way Gordon studied the passersby and so asked, “Tell me what it is you see.”

  “A country on the move,” Gordon said tersely. “Outlying communities moving to the safety of a garrison-held city. There will be fighting in the coming dry season, and these people are taking no chances.”

  “Which means the colonel failed to tell us the truth.”

  “Aye, my impression as well.”

  “But why would he lie?”

  “I cannot say for certain.”

  “Then tell me what you think.” When Gordon didn’t respond, she pressed him. “Please. It cannot possibly be worse than my fears.”

  “Perhaps,” Gordon said slowly, “the colonel heard of my brothers.”

  Nicole recalled from their seaborne conversations that Gordon’s two older brothers were both now serving as officers in the army of Virginia. “Is that likely?”

  “I cannot say. But it is a more appealing notion than the other.”

  “Which is?”

  “That the colonel wished for us to hurry along so he might have us intercepted and the gold stolen from us.” Gordon’s tone had turned bleak. “Gold is quite scarce, so I never expected to be paid in full with sovereigns. Half would have been acceptable. Three-fourths more than adequate as far as our shipowners are concerned.”

  “You’re saying, then, that Colonel Grudge wished you away for some reason.”

  “Aye, that is my thinking.”

  “Where is the gold now?”

  “On its way to London. The shipowners’ bank has a Boston office. They were only too delighted to accept a sack of good English sovereigns. They confirmed my suspicions. It’s rare for His Majesty’s procurers to be handing out gold to inbound traders.”

  “Perhaps the colonel needed your supplies so desperately he was in no position to bargain.”

  “Perhaps. But until we know better I shall sleep with one eye open, and we will post a double bevy of guards.”

  But their way remained clear, their progress steady. Even the weather turned in their favor. They slept the first night in the lee of a farmer’s barn and awoke to find the bitter wind and scuttling gray clouds to have dispersed with the dawn. A gentle breath rose from the south. The sky was a light blue, and all the world seemed impatient to embrace a newborn spring. From the farmer’s wife they bought a morning’s feast of freshly churned butter, baked bread, and still-warm eggs. Not even Gordon looked to be adhering to his own warning to keep a sharp eye out for trouble.

  The only sign that the region might not be facing another normal planting season was how sparse the traffic had become. By midday they had the road to themselves, and traffic didn’t begin picking up again until they had reached the outskirts of Bedford. They made their way Janette Oke / T. Davis Bunn around the town, and just a half hour later were again traveling alone. Twice they spotted farmers off in the distance, plowing behind teams of oxen. But other than this, the world seemed trapped in seclusion.

  There was no clear transition point, either. The farther they ventured from Boston the clearer the fact became that this land was firmly in the American colonials’ hands. The smallest hamlet flew a rebel flag, either that of the Constitutional Congress or the newer one of white stars over a blue field, partly framed by red and white stripes. Nicole thought this flag to be very jaunty, far nicer than those with guns or snakes or symbols of war.

  At lunchtime Gordon buried the British safe-pass deep inside one of the chests. In its place he pocketed the official document given to Charles by the Constitutional Congress, confirming Nicole’s ownership of the lands in western Massachusetts. Still they saw no soldiers and very little sign of conflict, just the empty road ahead and behind.

  Toward evening of the third day, as they were closing in on Leominster, the wind shifted back to the north and the skies grew steadily darker. Gordon announced that the town appeared safe enough for them to risk lodging in an inn, and Nicole did not complain.

  By the time they arrived at the village square, the temperature had dropped by half and a misting rain was pelting them hard. Even the horses seemed dejected, with their ears lying flat and their flanks shivering. The innkeeper’s wife led Nicole upstairs to a comfortable front room, while the men saw to the horses and guards to the carts. Nicole hadn’t realized how weary she was until a little while later when she rejoined the men for dinner and almost fell asleep over the hearty beef stew. But hunger kept her eyes open and her hand in motion, though she saw little else besides the bowl in front of her.

  From his station on her right, Gordon leaned in close and said, “Are you attempting to ignore me?”

  Nicole started from her half sleeping. “Forgive me. I am exhausted.”

  “I have spoken to you three times.”

  “I did not hear a word. I apologize. The road—”

  “Will there never be a moment when we might speak together more intimately?” Gordon had pitched his voice low enough so that the words reached only her ears.

  It was strange how, in the space of two heartbeats, she could go from a state of near slumber to as awake as she had been in weeks. “Most certainly.”

  “I would like to know when. The end of our journey is just ahead of us.” Idly Gordon rolled his spoon back and forth between his fingers. “I will deliver you to your estate, then return alone to my ship. That is, unless . . .”

  She knew he waited for her to ask, Unless what? But she could well imagine the response, and it was something she would rather not hear. “I find it most difficult to speak of the future, as it lies both tender and he
avy upon my heart.”

  Gordon turned in his seat so as to face her squarely. “It is precisely this tenderness which I deeply desire to know better.”

  Nicole had no choice but to get up from the table. “I thank you for your company,” she said, then raised her eyes and voice both. “I bid you good evening, gentlemen. Captain. I must get some rest now.”

  Gordon neither stood nor offered a polite farewell. Her last impression before leaving the room was of Gordon morosely spooning the remnants of his meal.

  Nicole returned the innkeeper’s good-night and climbed the stairs with a heart in turmoil. How she would so like to do as Gordon wished and reveal to him her feelings. How desperately she wanted him to stay. To remain on the estate and help her face all the unknowns of this volatile time. To become the man she could give herself to fully.

  Yet her fears clamored more loudly than her longings. Nicole prepared for bed, her mind a litany of doubt and dismay. She was afraid of opening her heart further. In fact, she was terrified she had already gone too far. Feeling beset by her earlier mistaken love with another who had in similar fashion moved resolutely against the tides of faith, she wondered again whether some flaw in her nature drew her to one who knew not her Lord.

  It seemed as though she had scarcely laid her head on the pillow before dreams swept her up and away. But there was little rest in this slumber, and no peace. For there in the dark her room was invaded by the presence of Jean Dupree, the Acadian she had loved so deeply, yet who was so wrong for her. The man reached across distance and years both and leered at her. In her half slumber Nicole cried out and heard herself do so, for the man of her past had found a way to break through her shield of faith. She awoke to find herself weeping, realizing then it wasn’t Jean who had assaulted her but her own weakness.

  The bitterness of her past mistakes, the pain of many trials, the fear of revisiting the hardships of her youth—all this remained with her and formed the doorway through which Jean had entered. Nicole lay in the dark and tried to stifle her sobs. She rose from her bed to kneel and pray for the strength to carve a new beginning for herself.