by Connie Mason
Adam almost wished he had the gumption to tell Charles to go to hell, that he wanted nothing from the man, not even his own freedom. But he could not. He would live yet another day to see his country drive the British back across the sea. When Alexa became the Vixen, she had changed irrevocably, Adam thought grimly, and not for the better.
When the boat scraped against the pilings of the quay, Adam scrambled out, his muscles flexed despite his weakness, half expecting the two sailors rowing the boat to jump out and attack him. He would put nothing past Charles Whitlaw. But the men merely pushed off to return to their ship. After a moment’s hesitation Adam took off down the quay, hoping to find a way to return to the secret cove to see if The Gray Ghost was waiting for him.
Anticipating some sort of trickery, Adam was therefore not the least bit surprised when two men leaped from the shadows, knives drawn and menacing. “You didn’t really think you would go free, did you, traitor” asked Bates whom Fox had recognized along with Grubbs.
“Not really,” Adam admitted dryly, helpless to defend himself against such overwhelming odds.
“Before we kill you, Fox, we have a message for you,” Bates sneered.
“Aye, from a lady,” echoed Grubbs. “We’re to tell you that she wants no reminders of her past left alive to haunt her.”
“And she commends your soul to hell,” added Bates, repeating the words Charles had drilled into him.
So saying, Bates lunged forward, but Adam deftly sidestepped, determined to resist as long as breath remained in his body. Just as Grubbs prepared to join in the fray to put a quick end to any ideas Adam might harbor about resisting. Mac reached them, followed in swift order by Drake and six burly seamen. A short-lived but bloody battle ensued in which Bates was killed and Grubbs wounded.
“Don’t kill him!” Adam shouted as Drake was tempted to put a quick end to Grubbs’s miserable life. “I want to question him.” Then he turned to Mac. “I’ll never forget this, Mac,” he said softly, unable to express in words what he felt in his heart.
“Just returning the favor.” Mac grinned cockily. Then he sobered quickly as he saw at close hand Adam’s deplorable condition. “My God, man, you look dead on your feet! What have they done to you?”
“Later, Mac,” Adam replied grimly. “Let’s see if Grubbs here can give us some answers. Who paid you and Bates to kill me?” he asked, grasping Grubbs by his blood-soaked shirt.
At first Grubbs refused to answer but Drake’s knife pressing into the tender skin of his neck soon changed his mind. “The captain—Whitlaw, I think his name is. We were to wait here for you and kill you.”
“What about the lady?” Adam queried relentlessly.
“I don’t know anything about a lady!”
“You gave me a message from her.”
“But I never saw her. Honest.”
It was obvious Grubbs knew little of Charles’s affairs, or of Alexa, and Adam turned away, disgusted, but then he suddenly thought of something and whirled to confront the cringing Grubbs. “How was Whitlaw to know if you succeeded in killing me? Knowing Charles he would leave no loose ends.”
Grubbs licked his dry lips, tasting blood. Nothing mattered now but preserving his own life. “We were to wave a lantern from the quay as a signal that all went as planned.”
“Where is the lantern?” Mac demanded harshly.
“In … in the corner behind those bales of cotton,” Grubbs pointed out, his eyes glazed with fear.
Mac turned and grunted out instructions to one of his men who moved with alacrity to follow his captain’s orders. While the sailor was preparing the lantern so that he might give the prearranged signal Charles was anxiously awaiting, Drake made short work of Grubbs, tossing his body and that of Bates into the dark water of the harbor.
Adam did not watch for Mac had drawn him aside and asked worriedly, “Adam, where is Alexa? We can’t leave without her.”
Adam laughed harshly, a sound raw with emotion. “She’s aboard that ship out in the harbor,” he revealed curtly. “I’ve just seen her.”
“My God, why didn’t you say so! But don’t worry, we have enough men at our disposal to storm the ship and take her.”
“I’m not worried, Mac, and there is no need to storm the ship on Alexa’s behalf,” Adam replied bitterly. “She’s there by choice. She made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing more to do with me. In fact,” he snorted derisively, “she has already become Charles Whitlaw’s mistress.”
“Adam, you’re wrong!” protested Mac, aghast. “You have to be. Alexa’s not like that. She loves you. She’s always loved you.”
“You wouldn’t think so had you heard her, Mac. She wanted me dead so I couldn’t interfere with her new life with Charles. It’s over. I never want to hear her name spoken in my presence again.”
“Think, man!” Mac advised. “Use your brain! Alexa is sacrificing herself for you.”
“You didn’t see her, Mac, or Whitlaw fondling her before my eyes. They were consumed with lust for one another. I’m certain they are in bed together right now. I can’t fault her for wanting to live, but did she have to fall in bed with her ex-fiance at the first opportunity?”
“Alexa couldn’t have changed so drastically in a week!”
“She’s an Ashley!” Adam grated out illogically, as if that explained everything.
Their conversation halted when Drake approached to inform them the ship had answered their signal and was preparing to weigh anchor.
“Damn you, Adam! Are you going to stand by and allow Alexa to walk out of your life forever?” Mac challenged, enraged.
No answer was forthcoming as Adam turned his back on his friend and limped off. Shaking his head sadly, Mac followed.
“A patrol is coming!” hissed one of the men posted as a lookout.
“This way,” whispered Mac, propelling Adam toward a deserted quay where they had hidden their boat beneath the pilings. The last man barely managed to scramble from sight as the patrol drew abreast of the quay, and sensing nothing amiss, moved on. When they passed out of sight the boat left its concealment as the oars noiselessly cut through the murky waves.
Once they were a safe distance away, Adam asked, “How did you come to be here tonight, Mac?”
“Some of my crew were in Savannah the night the squad of English soldiers set out in the direction of Foxworth,” Mac explained. “My men had no idea where they were going, or why, but they raced back to the cove to warn me and Drake. Thinking they might suspect we were anchored in the cove and send foot soldiers in conjunction with a sea attack, I thought it prudent to leave and anchor down the coast a ways in open water. Not in my wildest imaginings did I dream they were after Fox or Vixen.”
“When did you learn what actually took place?”
Once we were certain no ships were forthcoming. But it was the following morning before we returned to the cove where we found Jem waiting for us on shore. He explained everything.”
“When I heard Alexa had made good her escape I assumed she had found you and was safely aboard My Lady Vixen.”
“If she came to the cove.” Mac revealed, “she would have found it deserted.” A long pause ensued. “Adam, I just can’t believe …”
“Forget it. Mac. I know what you are going to say and I don’t want to hear it. Alexa never reached the cove. She went straight to Charles. Tell me how you learned I was to be taken from my cell tonight.”
“For nearly a week we heard nothing,” Mac said, “and we feared you were already dead. Then Drew, one of my crewmen, hit it lucky.” Mac went on to explain what Drew had learned from Bates. “It wasn’t much to go on, but by putting two and two together we managed to be at the right place at the right time.”
“Thank God for that!” breathed Adam, nearly at the end of his endurance. “I see the Ghost out there. When did she arrive?”
“She arrived in the cove for our rendezvous three days ago. We spent the time since then painting out the names from t
he hulls and turning ourselves into English merchantmen.”
“What are your plans?” Adam asked wearily.
“We sail immediately for Chesapeake Bay to join up with de Grasse’s fleet.”
“Good! The Ghost will be there beside you.”
“Are you sure you’re fit enough, Adam?” protested Mac. “It’s obvious your wounds are far from healed. And Lord knows what else they did to you.”
“Well enough. Mac,” Adam insisted, “once I feel the deck beneath my feet and fill my lungs with good salt air.”
Reluctantly, Mac had Adam rowed to where the Ghost lay at anchor, then boarded his own Lady A nearby while Drake continued on to My Lady Vixen. Within the hour all three ships sailed from Savannah harbor, plotting a northerly course.
A week later The Gray Ghost, Lady A and My Lady Vixen joined the forest of masts of the great fleet of de Grasse from the West Indies anchored just inside Fort Henry. The date was September 5. 1781. There they met the combined forces of Admiral Hood and Admiral Graves. A poorly executed British attack prevented the British from winning the day. Later the French and the Americans were joined by Admiral DeBarras and his eight ships of the line, and the British were decisively outnumbered. Graves sailed for New York after the battle which proved to be the decisive battle of the war.
Meanwhile, Cornwallis, in Yorktown, Virginia, his supplies and men badly depleted, awaited relief from Clinton in New York. Clinton’s promise that a fleet of twenty-six ships and 5000 men would arrive for his relief, buoyed his hopes, and Cornwallis continued his resistance. On October 13, 1781, with the promised reinforcements still missing, Cornwallis tried to retreat across the York River, hoping to reach a position favorable to a relieving fleet for supplying him. Failing in the attempted retreat and in urgent need of supplies, Cornwallis’s troops fell under the combined forces of General Washington and the Comte de Rochambeau, de Grasse’s French fleet and additional French infantry led by Lafayette. After an unsuccessful bid for escape, Cornwallis surrendered on October 17, 1781, bringing to an end, for all practical purposes, the war in America.
From small beginnings developed one of the greatest naval wars in history. The fleet operations which in a few weeks decided the fate of Yorktown and of the American cause, were merely incidental to the vast naval campaign carried on over a period of five years in Carribbean. European and Indian waters. Taking part in these great navy operations were not only famous names such as John Paul Jones, but hundreds of privateers. Brave, freedom-loving people like Fox, Vixen, Mac, Drake and countless others who formed the nucleus of the American navy.
With the articles of peace yet to be worked out, hundreds of royalists fled to Bermuda and other British-owned islands, while loyal Americans were free to move back to their lands without fear of British reprisal for their activities against the crown.
It was the spring of 1782 before Adam was free to return to Foxworth plantation. He was accompanied by Mac. Drake was amply rewarded for his loyalty by the gift of My Lady Vixen which he intended to use to found a lucrative shipping trade. But no matter what Adam said, Drake would not change the name of his ship. My Lady Vixen was a legend, a proud name Drake refused to alter.
But Adam was not allowed to remain long at his plantation. Because of his record as a fearless and relentless defender of freedom, he was called before the Continental Congress and sent on a mission he at first refused, but later, persuaded by Mac who was to accompany him, accepted. In April of 1782. Adam and Mac boarded The Gray Ghost and sailed for England. It had been seven months since Adam had last seen Alexa.
But the adage “out of sight, out of mind” did not apply to Adam. He thought constantly of Alexa, but not always with fond memories. The love he once bore her turned to ashes in his mouth. A thousand times over he relived their all too brief times together in the past and wondered how she could have changed so drastically. Perhaps it was only Charles who wanted him dead. Adam thought hopefully. But in the end it mattered little who actually ordered his death, Adam reflected glumly, for his wife was the one to benefit most from his demise.
Although his thoughts of Alexa were often harsh and unyielding, he couldn’t help but remember her as the Vixen. God, she was magnificent! Like no other woman he had ever known. All woman—beautiful. Yet proud and courageous too. There was no possible way to forget her, nor forgive her. Her adventurous life as the Vixen meant more to her than her role as his wife, Adam reflected bitterly.
But despite, or because of, those memories, hate began to fester in him like a cancer. Such was his state of mind that he feared should he ever see Alexa again he would be tempted to kill her.
21
London 1782
The journey across the water to England was a nightmare Alexa hoped never to experience again. She was seasick the entire time at sea, no doubt due to her pregnancy. The only good to come out of it was that Charles did not approach her sexually. In fact, she rarely saw him, consumed as he was with his duties as captain.
Unbeknownst to Alexa. Charles and much of the world save for America, by the time they reached English soil Cornwallis had already surrendered and the war was all but over. But the news would not reach them yet for many weeks. In the meantime, still weak and far too thin. Alexa was virtually Charles Whitlaw’s prisoner.
Charles whisked her from his ship to his London town-house without allowing her to see or speak to anyone. Truth to tell she was in no condition to face family or friends and was grateful for the seclusion of Charles’s house where she might rest and recuperate.
By this time Alexa’s pregnancy was clearly noticeable and Charles ordered her confined to the house. But after a mere two weeks of rest and wholesome food Alexa’s condition improved greatly and the inactivity was galling, especially after her activities as the Vixen. Though Charles provided excellent care, and his servants were informed that she was soon to become Charles’s wife and they should treat her accordingly, Alexa longed to visit her father to learn for herself if he still harbored strong feelings against her. Mainly she wanted to enlist his help.
Then there was her old retainer Maddy, who was more of a mother to her than servant. Two weeks was long enough to remain in bed and Alexa was determined to go to Ashley House despite Charles’s warning to the contrary.
Though Charles still wanted Alexa, her state of pregnancy definitely turned him off sexually, and he was content to visit his clubs and cavort with actresses until she was rid of her unwelcome burden. It was not Charles’s nature to remain faithful to one woman for any length of time, and since he could not possess the woman he wanted at the moment, he felt no compunction about taking his comfort elsewhere. Nevertheless, he demanded Alexa’s presence in his house, threatening to turn her over to the authorities should she leave him for any reason. The name Vixen was well-known in England and he was careful to point out that she would most certainly hang the moment her child was born should she be revealed. Unreasonable as it might sound, as long as Alexa’s hair remained the color of pale gold, she lived in Charles’s eyes as the Vixen. A woman he wanted above all others. A woman around whom dreams were spun.
Alexa was gratified that she was not called upon to satisfy Charles’s sexual needs and that he left her much on her own. It presented her with the oppportunity to seek her own diversion. One beautiful spring day she deliberately disobeyed Charles’s orders and set out for Ashley House in a hired conveyance. A wide cape concealed her rounded shape and she tugged nervously at her blond hair, wondering if her father would recognize her and allow her entrance.
Hesitantly, Alexa lifted the brass knocker and let it drop with a resounding bang, then stood back to wait. Nothing. Twice more she used the knocker with no results and was about to give up when a small, white-haired woman peeped out through a crack in the door.
“Can I help you, miss?” asked the woman in a kindly manner.
“Maddy?” Alexa gaped, shocked at how much the housekeeper had aged. “Is that you Maddy?”
&nbs
p; “Do I know you, miss?” Maddy asked, peering owlishly at Alexa over rimless glasses.
“Oh, Maddy, it’s me, Alexa!”
“Oh, no, miss!” Maddy protested vigorously. “Lady Alexa had hair as black as night, and I heard she is in America. For all I know she could be dead.”
“Not dead, Maddy. Very much alive. And I’ve come back.” She stepped closer to the nearsighted woman. “Take a good look then tell me you don’t know me.”
Wordlessly Maddy obeyed, staring at Alexa an inordinately long time before abruptly bursting into tears. “Oh, Lord, oh dear God, it is you, my lady. You’ve come back!”
The door opened wide and Alexa stepped inside. The hall was cool, the house, from what she could see, clean and orderly. But somehow Alexa sensed it had been unoccupied for a long time. The feeling persisted as she followed Maddy into the drawing room, becoming an eerie premonition when she saw dust covers shrouding all the lovely furniture she remembered so well.
“Maddy, why is everything covered up?” Alexa asked, alarmed. “Where is my father? Surely he can’t still be in the country. Is he sick?”
Maddy’s tears grew more copious as she regarded Alexa pityingly. “Sit down, Lady Alexa,” she urged, whisking a cover from one of Alexa’s favorite chairs. Certain she was not going to like what Maddy was about to tell her, Alexa obeyed.
“What is wrong, Maddy? It’s all right, you can tell me.”
Knowing of no way to soften the shock, Maddy said, “Your father is dead, my lady. He lived but one year after you left. The doctor said it was his heart. It came on so sudden I never expected …”
“Dead! And I never knew!” Alexa lamented, recalling not those terrible moments when she had been forced to leave home, but the good times when she was growing up the adored daughter of Sir John Ashley. Without a moment’s hesitation she forgave him for any wrong he might have done her, for in his own way he had been terribly hurt by her mother. Now it all seemed so long ago and insignificant.