Love's Courage

by Elizabeth Meyette

  “Sorry, Randy.” Shaking his head, he bent forward, leaning on his knees, breathing deeply to regain his senses. He stuck out his hand, which disappeared into Randy’s as they shook. He admired Randy whom he’d met upon his arrival in Virginia two years ago. Even back then, he had joined Randy and Jonathon in their battle to fight the British and further the Patriot cause. Now, the sympathy in Randy’s hazel eyes only deepened Andrew’s sorrow—and fury.

  Randy retrieved Andrew’s hat, handing it to him. Andrew crushed one of its three corners as he clutched it.

  “I could have arrived in time. I failed to read her note when it arrived—I thought it was her weekly letter. I could have been here in time.” He bunched his wool felt hat into a crumpled mass.

  Randy took the hat and shook it out, trying to reshape its three corners. “Lad, mind your hat. With the damned Parliament’s stranglehold on shipping, you might not find another to buy.” He clapped it on Andrew’s head. “Aye. Perhaps you could have done all those things, but the fact is, Jenny is gone. That is the truth of it.” He turned toward the shore. “Come. Let me buy you an ale and some food. I may have an idea that will help us both.”

  Andrew turned to face him. “What do you mean, ‘help us both’?”

  Randy smiled and slapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him off the edge of the pier. Andrew scrambled to regain his balance.

  “You’ll see, lad. You’ll see.

  Andrew and Randy sat in a far corner of the tavern where eavesdropping was less likely. Voices emboldened with too much ale rang around them as Andrew tapped his foot, his fingers drumming the table. Thoughts bounced in his mind like hail on a roof. How to get to New York City? To Jenny? He had never ridden that distance, and he knew nothing about the roads or where the British camps were. He shifted in his seat, his legs tingling with the need to act, not waste time in some tavern. A serving maid deposited another two tankards in front of them, then hurried off to the beckoning cries of other patrons. An air of camaraderie and shared purpose swirled around them as men discussed the overbearing reach of Parliament and the intrusion of British troops.

  Leaning forward, Randy took a generous swig of his ale, scanned the room, then spoke in tones just loud enough to be heard above the din. “You want to join Jenny in New York, and I have messages to deliver to the colonies to the north. Together we can accomplish both.”

  The din faded as Andrew focused on Randy’s words. “I’m listening.”

  “You will be working for the Sons of Liberty, providing information along the route to New York City. Stephen Alcott’s farm—do you remember it? Jonathon hid from the British there.”

  “I know the farm.”

  “I’ll meet you back here tomorrow, then you’ll ride to Alcott’s farm. He will provide you with directions to your next stop.”

  “But I want to leave tonight.”

  “I know, lad. But if you leave tonight, you will raise suspicion at the college. Tomorrow I will know the safest route to Alcott’s farm. The British roam the countryside, Andrew. What if you encounter a regiment? Worse yet, what if someone recognizes you? You were there when Jonathon killed Captain Walters. And you’ve been to New York with Jonathon. This will be a hazardous mission. You need to be prepared.”

  Andrew sank into his chair and scrubbed his face with his hands. “You’re right, Randy.” Sighing, he cupped his hands around his tankard. “I’m worried about Jenny. I feel in my heart that she is in danger, too.”

  Randy stared at him as if weighing his next words.

  “Your heart is correct, lad. Jenny is in grave danger.”

  Chapter 2

  Jonathon paced the deck, stopping every so often to lift the telescope and study the western horizon. Jenny could see nothing there, but he was intent, scouring the seam of the sea and sky. Crewmen glanced surreptitiously in that direction as they bustled about their duties. The air was thick with anticipation. Jonathon propped the telescope against a barrel and pulled out a parchment, unfolded it and read it, combing from top to bottom twice. He replaced the letter in his pocket, then stared though the telescope again.

  Finally, he turned to her. The concern on his face did little to quell the nerves that jumped along her skin. Though he smiled at her, his eyes remained steely.

  Was it fear for her or anger?

  He glanced to the west again. “This voyage is perilous. General Howe has troops aboard an armada of more than two hundred British ships now sailing along the coast of the colonies. We may very well engage them. I am keeping as far out to sea as possible while still making it feasible to complete our mission. Our stop in New York was to be quick, but …”

  Jenny understood. She was delaying them already. A confrontation with a British ship—or two hundred—put his mission at risk.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Jonathon. I didn’t realize …”

  But had she realized, her plan would have been the same. She brushed her arms up and down as urgency raced through her skin like a thousand ants. Father could lie dying right now—she had to reach him as soon as possible. Her twin sister’s face floated to her mind. Kathryn’s curly black hair and gray eyes had mirrored Jenny’s. Their gleeful shouts echoed in her mind as she remembered their games and competitions—Kathryn winning every race. Kathryn running into the road, Jenny not fast enough to save her from the oncoming carriage. Kathryn’s pale face, gray eyes staring at nothing. Jenny blinked away stinging tears, shaking herself back to the present. “Yes. If I do not run to him, he will die.”

  “You carry a tremendous burden, Jenny.”

  Puzzled, she frowned at him. How could saving Father be a burden?

  He took her hand. “You saved Andrew’s life from a British bullet and my Emily from certain death when Deidre was so deranged she sought to kill her.” He frowned for a moment. “My Lord—you even endangered your own life to save me from the British. But, you carry a weight of responsibility that is too heavy for the strongest person.” His voice softened on the misty air. “You cannot save the world.”

  She rose to her tallest stature. “But I can save Father. If there is any chance, I cannot ignore it.”

  He leaned on the brass rail, staring toward the west. Pushing off it, he grimaced. “I will get you to your father as quickly as I am able. I promise. But I as I cautioned you, it will be dangerous. British warships sit off Long Island and the island of Manhattan, requiring us to land elsewhere and travel over land as well. That, too, will be a difficult journey.”

  “I understand. I hate to place you in such jeopardy; New York is a dangerous place for you as well.”

  “Yes, if I’m seen, I’ll be arrested again … and this time I would surely swing from the gallows. I cannot accompany you on the entire journey.”

  “Whatever you can do, wherever you can drop me … but I must return to my parents. All I need is a good horse. I can make it on my own.”

  He grunted. “You have enough courage for ten men. I will certainly not leave you to make the last of the trip on your own. Mr. Gates and some of my men will accompany you until they can turn you over to trusted people outside of Manhattan. Those friends will see you safely to your parents.”

  As if on cue, a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard and gray hair that curled around his collar joined them, retrieving Jonathon’s telescope. He wore a black wool cap, his face tanned and weathered save for the creases around his smiling blue eyes where, crinkled from laughter or squinting, white lines fanned out.

  “Good day, Captain. Miss Sutton.” He bowed slightly.

  “Ah, Gates, we were just speaking of you. I’m explaining to Jenny that you and a few of our crew will escort her to the countryside near Manhattan. There you will entrust her to our colleagues in the area.”

  He nodded to her. “I’ll be honored to do so, Captain.”

  “You’ll be in safer hands than if I were to accompany you.” Jonathon grinned at her, then at his second-in-command.

  “Thank you, sir.” Gates agai
n bowed. “Any sign of …”—he glanced at Jenny— “company?” He offered the telescope.

  Jonathon again searched the horizon. “Nothing. If our luck holds out, we will not encounter any British vessels.”

  Mr. Gates glanced at Jenny again.

  “I’ve told her, Gates.” He raised a brow at his niece. “She is fully aware of the many risks inherent in this trip.”

  “I’ll leave you to discuss the plans.” Tapping his finger to the brim of his woolen fisherman’s cap, he sauntered off.

  Jonathon placed his hands on Jenny’s shoulders.

  “Truly, you will be safe with Mr. Gates.”

  “I know I will.” She inhaled the salty air and squared her shoulders.

  He scanned the horizon. “I hope your arrival in New York will be our only challenge.”

  Andrew drummed his fingers on the smooth wood of the table as he sat in the back of the tavern waiting for Randy. Scanning the room, he looked for Randy’s red hair among the patrons. A man his size would not be missed. Not seeing his friend, he sighed and slapped the table—he wanted to be on his way. The sooner he could reunite with Jenny, the better.

  Leaning back, he balanced his chair against the wall and closed his eyes. He envisioned her face glowing in candlelight, remembered the scent of lilac when he pulled her near. When she smiled, that single dimple, just to the right of her angel-bow lips, invited a kiss, turning his innards to jelly. His arms longed to hold her. He remembered her silken skin, smooth beneath his fingers, and her eager response when they kissed. How he missed her already. His jaw clenched; he might never see her again. News was rampant of the dangers of New York, and if her father had been injured by the British, what did that mean for Jenny? Would they now go after her?

  “Based on the lovesick look on your face, I assume you’re thinking of Jenny.”

  Randy’s voice startled Andrew back to reality. He brought his chair upright with a bang.

  “My God, man, you scared me half to death.”

  Randy grinned at him. “I thought I’d best pull you out of your reverie before you embarrassed yourself.” He waggled his brows.

  Andrew sat up and pulled his long coat around his hips. His face grew hot with embarrassment at Randy’s insinuation.

  “Aye, you are a hot-blooded youth. Do not fear, Andrew. I will see you reunited with your beloved Jenny.”

  Andrew puffed out a long breath. As Jonathon’s lifelong friend, Randy was a frequent visitor at Brentwood Manor, Jonathon’s boyhood home. Andrew trusted him as he trusted his brother-in-law. If Randy said he would see Jenny again, then he would.

  “We’d best get busy so you can be on your way.” Randy pulled a piece of parchment out of the pocket of his long coat. He placed his cocked hat on the edge of the table to conceal from any curious observers what he was about to show Andrew. He scanned the room, then pulled in his chair.

  Peering at the parchment, Andrew studied a roughly drawn map of the coast of Virginia and the colonies to the north. Several places were labeled or marked with an X. Ships were crudely drawn along the coastline from New York to the Chesapeake Bay.

  “This will be your route.” Randy ran his finger along the dotted line joining the locations.

  “There are too many stops here. I want to get to Jenny as fast as I can.”

  “Lad, you can help the Sons of Liberty with our fight—we have a war going on.”

  “But Jenny …”

  Randy’s fist slammed the table, jarring their drinks and making Andrew jump. The pub went quiet as patrons stared in their direction. Randy glared at them and they returned to their conversations. He bent toward Andrew, his face a thundercloud. “This is bigger than you and Jenny, for God’s sake. People are dying, losing everything, being arrested and hanged. Wake up, boy. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

  Andrew’s nostrils flared and he balled his fists. “Jenny could die. Her father could be dead already. I have to get to her.”

  “And I will help you do that. If you ride off half-cocked, you’ll run into British troops for sure. You sitting in their jail won’t help her. Now listen to me.” He glanced around, staring down those who still chanced a look at them. His voice was low. “Now listen to me,” he repeated.

  Andrew strained to hear him over the din of the pub.

  “Your fastest route is the King’s Highway, which runs from Charleston all the way up to Boston, but you must be careful. British troops will be plentiful along that road. But sailing is hazardous, too. A British fleet is sailing toward Maryland with General Howe in command. He has more than two hundred ships with thousands of soldiers aboard. General Washington’s armies are shadowing them along the shore. He needs couriers to carry messages back to New York in case Howe decides to turn back and reinforce General Burgoyne in New York.”

  Andrew’s heart raced. Jenny was sailing right into that armada. How could they sit here talking when he could be gaining miles on his trip to Jenny? He started to rise.

  Randy yanked him back to his seat. “Steady, lad. You will leave in the morning …”

  “Morning? Immediately. We’re wasting time, Randy.”

  “You need a plan. If you run off now, you’d be captured for sure and you would never get to Jenny.” He squeezed the young man’s arm. “Steady. Now let’s look at this route.”

  Andrew sucked in a deep breath and studied the map. Waiting was agony. This route would take weeks. He shook his head.

  “No. I can’t take this long to get to her. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  Chapter 3

  Gray storm clouds smudged the northeast horizon, stirring the crew of the Destiny into action. Jenny jumped as the bosun piped Jonathan’s terse orders to the crew, who ran up rigging to trim sails and secure any items that were not battened down. The men’s movements were swift, decisive, like an army preparing for battle. Perhaps a nor’easter was exactly that. She pressed against the ship’s hull, trying to stay out of the way as the men dashed about, intent on their duties.

  The wind picked up and waves swelled, tossing the ship. Her stomach churned and heaved, her nausea worsened by the acrid sulfur odor that accompanied the lightning that danced around the ship. Apprehension charged the air in addition to the shifting atmosphere from the storm. The Destiny pitched, throwing her against the railing. She stumbled, trying to maintain her footing, but her skirt caught in her leather slipper. Toppling like a rag doll, she reached for anything that would stem her fall. Her hands found a taut line and slid along it, her flesh ripping away, triggering stinging burns. The wind carried her cry out to sea as she tumbled to the deck.

  Mr. Gates hurried to her. “Are you all right, Miss Sutton?” he shouted over the sound of the gale.

  In too much pain to answer, she simply nodded. Pulling herself up, she clasped her hands to alleviate the smarting.

  Gates took her hands in his, turning them over for inspection. “I have a balm that will soothe these rope burns. Come below with me. You’ll want to be down there during this storm in any case.” Taking her elbow, he led her to the quarterdeck.

  After helping her navigate the ladder, he escorted her to her cabin. Though tiny, space was used as economically as possible. A small armoire stood against the bulkhead next to a table and chair. Opposite, a bunk covered with a neatly tucked quilt nestled against that bulkhead. With only one small porthole, the room was dark as the storm clouds gathered. Though a lantern hung above the table, Mr. Gates did not light it.

  “With a storm, it’s better not to have any flame,” he explained. “The ship will be tossed quite a bit, and a lamp could be unsafe. You had best simply lie on your bunk and try to ride out the storm, Miss Sutton. I will return in a moment with salve for your hands.”

  After he left, Jenny scrutinized the cabin. Her trunk had been stowed beneath the bunk and secured with ropes. She had unpacked her clothing and personal items, but leaving them packed probably would have been wiser. She knelt and reached toward the handle,
but the ship lurched, hurling her forward. She leaned on the trunk for support, causing her hands to slide along the edge of it. She gasped with pain as her skin passed over the rough wood.

  “That was unwise,” she scolded herself.

  “Pardon me?” Mr. Gates asked from the doorway.

  “Oh … nothing. I must get accustomed to coddling my hands.” Her skin pulsed in pain from the fiery heat, as if she’d picked up scorching bricks from the hearth.

  Mr. Gates set a lantern and a leather case on the table. “Here, let me examine them.”

  Taking her hands, he studied them. Lightly running a finger along one palm, he stopped when she winced and shrank back. Even his gentle ministrations increased the pain.

  “I apologize for any discomfort I may cause,” he said. Opening a jar, he dipped his finger into it and rubbed the salve into the burns. Though she instinctively wanted to pull her hands away, Jenny forced herself to sit still, sucking in her breath and holding it until he was finished. The scent of lavender and comfrey drifted up to her and the pain ebbed.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Those are nasty burns on your hands.” He nodded toward the bunk. “I think it best if you climb under the quilt and tuck it in as tightly as possible. The ship will be rocking for the next few hours.”

  “I will do as you say, Mr. Gates. Though I would be happy to assist in any way possible.”

  “That is very generous, but I think you will be most helpful tucked into that bunk.” He winked at her, picked up his leather case and lantern, and left, leaving her in the shadowy cabin.

  The ship rolled, knocking her to the bunk.

  She could not bear to remain in this cramped cabin. Better to be tossed around on the deck than in this dark cell. Rising, she lurched to the door, matching her steps to the rolling and pitching of the ship. She took her time climbing the ladder to the deck since grasping the wooden rungs was agony on her throbbing palms. Losing her balance, she wrapped her arm around a rung to steady herself, sparing her aching hands.