The Captain's Daughter

by Minnie Simpson

  A few minutes later, Ben and Leo arrived. They encountered the hysterical scullery girl standing in the front door. She looked up at them with pitiful, tearful eyes.

  “They’re all dead sirs, they are.”

  Chapter 38

  Several days later, when Amy was much improved in every way, and Emma had finally returned almost completely to her old self, Leo invited the girls to go with him to someplace new. He was very secretive and wouldn’t tell them where it was or what it was.

  After some fifteen or twenty minutes they pulled up in front of an elegant and impressive townhouse. The front door of the house was open and workmen were passing in and out.

  “I have to go inside for a few minutes, and I would very much like you ladies to accompany me.”

  Since they were all curious, they readily consented and he helped them from the coach. Threading themselves through the workers, they found themselves in a large and elegant drawing room. Most of the furniture was covered with dust sheets, except one expensive chair where the dust cover had been pulled aside. Seated on the chair was a man that Amy knew. It was the Frenchman from Hillside House, whom she knew as Pierre Marie Chevalier.

  Standing with his left arm leaning on the back of the chair and a big grin on his face was Ben.

  “What...” was all Amy could say.

  “This is my London house, Amy. I did not move out of it and dwell among the cut-purses, cutthroats, thieves, murderers, and other denizens of the warren of evil and degradation where recently you found me, out of fear of the murderous agents of the Comité de salut public. Although, it was of some use to be where they could not find me, at least at first, until they tracked me there. No, I moved out because once they learned that some of those they were trying to find were dwelling at Hillside House it was no longer a safe sanctuary.

  Therefore I moved out of this house, and did all that was necessary to appear as if no one was here, so that Pierre and others would have a safe place to reside until the time was propitious for them to return to their native land.

  “We are deeply grateful to Sir Benjamin,” said Pierre with his thick French accent. “We had to remain in the rooms that could not be seen from the street, so this room had to appear deserted, and we had to avoid going into any room where we might be seen, as well as staying away from the windows of the upstairs rooms. Ben left the curtains open so we could have some illumination during daylight hours, but at night we scarce could even use a candle for fear the glow might be seen. One careless mistake and our enemies could have discovered us. And we were sure they would keep a watch on Ben’s house.”

  “Well fortunately that is over and done with,” said Ben.

  “Fortunate indeed, mon ami,” laughed Pierre. “Do you realize how cold even your summers can be here in England without resort to a fire. Now we are starting into the month of October, and soon it will be winter. The thought of escaping the Comité only to freeze to death, that is no desirable alternative.”

  “Well it is all over, at least for now. All those pursuing you and attacking your countrymen fleeing the Reign of Terror, are now dead or in gaol, except for Antibes, and he is no longer in the country.”

  “Julien Antibes escaped?” Amy was shocked.

  “Yes, unfortunately,” replied Ben. “He and his two henchmen, Henri and Bruno. Three men matching their description left the Port of London on the Moordenaar , which was bound for Holland, two days ago. They’ll make their way easily to France from Holland.”

  “Might they not return here?” asked Amy.

  “They might and will, if they can. They are very accomplished at what they do and they will be determined to carry out what they started.”

  “What can be done to prevent this horror from repeating itself?” said Amy, an element of fear in her voice.

  “They can only return if they are alive,” said Ben. “Perhaps there is something can be done about that. Julien Antibes is very skilled at not being seen, at hiding, but we are also accomplished at uncovering what is hidden. If all goes well, we will not have him and his associates to worry about.”

  Amy did not like the sound of that. She did not object to the assisted demise of the three evil and cruel men, but she worried about Ben and the part he might have to play in this dance of death.

  “Anyway,” said Ben changing the subject to something brighter, “I am having the house restored to its rightful condition. I’m already moving back in, as you can see by the hive of activity. And if you will excuse me, I have to see how the work is coming along.”

  With Ben gone, Amy turned her attention back to Pierre.

  “Monsieur Chevalier, I believe Ben said you were a journalist. Why would they want to kill you?”

  “I am many things, mademoiselle, but believe me, the Comité wants anyone dead who might uncover their evil or speak against them, and it is true, I have spoken against them with much vigor. So much so that they are enraged at me and want to silence me.”

  Leo, who along with Mattie and Emma, had watched in silence until now, asked the question that was on many minds.

  “How can a cultured and civilized people as the French are, allow such outrages as the wholesale murder of their aristocracy and others? I have met many of your fellow Frenchmen and their families driven from your shores, and I am horrified at such cruelty.”

  “I am being pursued by the Reign of Terror and can never justify their atrocities,” said Pierre, “but I am also no friend of the aristocracy. If it were not for their arrogance and cruelties the Reign of Terror would never have come into being. It very much is as the sacred book says: For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind. Some of the rich and powerful have collected the wages they have earned, but so many good people have died for the sins of the few. I abhor the cruelty and innocent deaths. Now, having spent the last quarter hour enjoying the privilege of sitting in the open here in Ben’s drawing room, I must go and prepare to leave.”

  “To leave,” queried Amy. “Are you going back to Hillside House?”

  “No, Mademoiselle. I must return to mother France.”

  “But they’ll kill you.”

  “To kill me they will have to find me, and I do not plan on them being successful. There are many places to hide. I will always strive to remain safe since I rejoice in being alive, and I have much yet left to do—and write.”

  He rose and walked to the door of the drawing room.

  “May I ask one question,” said Amy.

  “Mademoiselle?”

  “Since you lived so near to us in Stockely-on-Arne, I have mentioned your name to a number of your expatriates who were driven from France, without mentioning that I had met you, or betraying where you were. None had ever heard of you.”

  “I am a scholar, Mademoiselle, and the rich pay no attention to scholars.”

  “Some seem to know quite a few scholars, but they know of no one by your name who has disappeared from France. But there is one scholar who has disappeared whom they all know about. Pierre, are you Andre Chenier?”

  “Scholars are many people,” he said enigmatically and departed with a smile.

  As he left, Ben reappeared, his inspection of the activities of the workers completed.

  “Ben,” said Amy worriedly, “Pierre said he is going back to France.”

  “I know. I tried to talk him out of it, but he is adamant. He doesn’t like England, and he has had some sarcastic things to say about us and our country. For this reason, I feel he is uncomfortable accepting our hospitality. But, Amy, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Leo, why don’t you and the ladies here, go to the living room. You’ll find things more hospitable there.”

  He beckoned her to follow him.

  “He’s in the kitchen where we are feeding him.”

  He led her into the kitchen. Seated at the large kitchen table was the boatswain, Sam Grieves.

  “I fetched Mr. Grieves from Bristol,” said Ben, “and I have explained to him all that
has transpired. He has something he would like to tell you. I’ll return in a little while.”

  Amy, who in the reduced financial condition of the Sibbridge house was no stranger to kitchen tables, sat down opposite Sam Grieves.

  “I was indeed the person who delivered the satchel to you back in May,” he confessed.

  “I have been told I am the daughter of Captain Buchanan, how is that possible? I saw the grave of the captain and his wife.”

  “You saw the grave of the captain, but the young woman and the baby buried beside him were not his wife or daughter. They were the daughter and grandchild of Joseph Sallison.”

  Despite how unlikeable Sallison had been, Amy still felt a little pang of sympathy for the old man who thinks his long dead daughter might still be alive.

  “They found the body of the woman and child three weeks later,” continued Sam Grieves, “and it was in bad condition, but they assumed it was the bodies they had been looking for. The bodies of Captain Buchanan’s wife, Margaret Buchanan, and their infant daughter, Agnes Buchanan.”

  Amy was now deeply puzzled.

  “If the bodies were not the bodies of the captain’s wife and daughter, if my mother was Margaret Buchanan, if the body buried next to my father is Joseph Sallison’s daughter, what became of my mother?”

  “I am about to reveal to you a secret that I have not revealed in more than twenty years, and you might want to keep it a secret also. The young woman on the cart was not the Sallison girl. It was your mother, whom we affectionately called Madge. Madge Buchanan and her daughter were on the cart that day that was following the coach. Madge always had a spirit of adventure, and opted to ride out in the rain and let the Sallison girl, who was upset after her conflict with her father, and exhausted after running away, take her place in the carriage. The girl was cold, wet, shivering, and holding a sick baby. The lawyer and the clerk did not like it, but your father said the girl needed to be out of the cold, and he let her ride with them.”

  “If my mother was riding on the cart and not the coach, it means she did not drown in the River Avon. If she did not drown what happened to her.”

  “I am getting to that,” said Sam, taking another bite of food. “And it is a strange tale indeed. One of which I was fully part of.”

  “Madge and I knew that Ishmael would have them killed if he knew they were still alive, so we decided on a ruse. Madge revealed to John’s mother, Caroline Buchanan, during the time of the inquest that she and Agnes were still alive and gave Agnes to Caroline Buchanan. John’s mother, Caroline, then took Agnes to the Sibbridges who were old friends, and they agreed to raise Agnes, that is you, as their own daughter, although they never knew exactly why they were asked to do this.”

  “But what happened to my mother?” pleaded Amy.

  Sam Grieves was again devouring his food.

  “It may look like I’m starved.” Sam Grieves spoke, only briefly looking up at Amy, “but I’m not. It’s just that food is the one last pleasure remaining for an old man. And this roast beef is good. Do you know how long it is since I’ve had good roast beef?”

  Amy waited until he took a good breath of air and was ready to answer the question that was burning inside her.

  “Madge, your mother, knew that the first mate that your father recruited was an old friend of your father’s but a stranger to the port of Bristol and by sight unknown to the shipping office. We also knew that he drowned in the River Avon and his body was never found. As far as everyone knew, he was still alive. We disguised your mother as the first mate. As I said, your mother was a game woman. She rubbed ochre on her skin like the old Celts did with their red men, the Fer Dearg, and as some women in Africa still do. That, with a new crew and using a husky voice, and what she learned sailing with your father, she easily convinced all that she was the first mate. With your father dead she was promoted to captain.”

  “My mother became captain of the Bristol Ark?”

  “That she did. It took great effort at first, but soon she became truly the captain both to others and most important to herself.”

  Amy had to let this sink in. “My mother was the captain of the Bristol Ark.”

  “Yes, and she was a captain for many years. I helped her at first, but she soon learned the ropes, and she proved a good captain.

  “And no one knew she was a woman?

  “Yes, no one ever found out.”

  “Did she write the letter?”

  “Two years ago, for reasons I don’t know, she began to write it. I don’t know why. Something she learned but never confided to me, seemed to worry her.”

  “But why was the letter never finished?”

  “On the night she began to write it she died. We were in the midst of a severe storm. So severe that the quartermaster had lashed himself to the wheel so he wouldn’t be washed overboard. She was seen out on deck by the quartermaster. One moment he saw her and the other she was gone.”

  Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes.

  “We were one day out, if the weather allowed, from Bristol. She had asked me to deliver the satchel to the home of Sir Anthony and Lady Sibbridge in Stockley-on-Arne as soon as we were safe in port in Bristol. She said she had a letter to write and put in the satchel. I did not know why, since I had never been told where Agnes, that is you, had been taken, and indeed the satchel was addressed to “Amaryllis”. For all I knew that was the name of someone else other than Agnes. So I carried out her wishes, and I put the unfinished letter in the satchel.”

  She sat with her eyes misted with tears, looking at but not really seeing, the old man enjoying his last remaining pleasure, until Ben returned.

  As he accompanied Amy and her sisters and Leo to the front door he told them: “The weather seems so unusually warm and pleasant that I’ve engaged a boat. I will deliver a formal invitation later today, but I am going to invite your family and the Ramseys, and you too Leo, to join me in a sail up the Thames this Saturday.”

  Back at the Ramsey’s house, with no one else present, Amy sat down with her mother and father. She had a long talk with them, and her mother finally confessed all she knew and confirmed what Sam Grieves had told Amy.

  Chapter 39

  Saturday proved to be a warm, balmy, and pleasant day. When they arrived on board the richly decorated pleasure boat that Ben had engaged, an old lady was sitting in the shade under one of the awnings. Lady Sibbridge stared at her for a few moments, and then recognition and delight set in.

  “Caroline!”

  Amy was puzzled, but Ben, who was watching carefully, smiled.

  “I had some difficulty locating her,” he told Amy and the others, “especially so quickly.”

  “Who is she,” whispered Amy?

  He led her to the old lady.

  “Amy, or rather Agnes Buchanan, this is your grandmother. Mrs. Buchanan, this is Agnes the granddaughter you haven’t seen these past twenty years. We know her as Amaryllis.”

  The old lady looked at Amy intently for a moment, and then recognition of the family resemblance swept over her. Grinning, the old woman beckoned her over. Amy embraced the old lady and her grandmother hugged her tightly.

  As the boat pushed away from the wharf and the watermen propelled the boat upriver, Amy discovered that Ben had hired a small group of musicians to play for them. Mattie and Leo wandered to the fore of the boat to be alone, and Emma, fully her old self began to examine all the mechanics involved in a Thames pleasure boat, and where she could, thoroughly questioning members of the crew. This left her parents, the Ramseys, Amy, Ben, and her newfound grandmother, Caroline Buchanan, sitting around a small table under the central canopy as they were served refreshments.

  Amy had many questions for her grandmother. The old lady knew the true identity of the woman and child in the cemetery, but remained silent for the safety of Amy and Madge, and she said it gave the young Sallison woman a decent Christian burial, something she would not likely have received from her father or even the church, s
ince her babe was conceived out of wedlock.

  “At the burial, we requested that the minister not mention the name of the woman and child, which he like the others believed to be the captain’s wife and daughter. We gave some reason which I don’t quite remember. He was puzzled, but he still complied with our wishes.”

  Amy received many compliments from those sitting around the table for her courage and fortitude.

  “There are men that your father and I fought alongside in the old days that would not have shown such courage,” said Sir Frank.

  “What I still don’t understand,” said Amy, “is why they wanted to kill me.”

  “Because you had supplanted Ishmael as the heir to the estate of Sir Hugh Anselan, is the way I understand it,” said Lady Ramsey.

  “But that’s the point,” said Amy. “There is no estate. Ishmael squandered away all Sir Hugh’s money.”

  “No he didn’t!”

  It was Caroline Buchanan that spoke, and they all turned and looked at the old lady.

  “But everything I’ve heard is that Ishmael lost the shipping line, Sir Hugh’s estate at Broomlee Park, and the entire inheritance from Sir Hugh.”

  “That he did,” agreed Amy’s grandmother, “as far as the shipping line and the business interests in Bristol, but that was not all of what Sir Hugh owned.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said Amy. “When Ishmael had my father murdered, didn’t that leave him as the sole heir to all that Sir Hugh owned?”

  “Well dear,” the old lady said, “the shipping line was far from all that my brother possessed. My brother, Sir Hugh, was a good man in his own way, but he was also a very ambitious man. And like many ambitious men his ambition overruled his heart. He wanted what he saw as the best for me, since I was his little sister. He wanted me to marry a duke, an earl, or a marquis. He wanted me to marry into a noble family.”

  “He was disappointed when you married my grandfather?”

  “He was more than disappointed. When I fell in love with your grandfather, a humble doctor, my brother was outraged. He thought I had thrown myself away and ruined my future. I knew otherwise. My beloved husband, so long gone, but the man I will love until my last day on this earth, and I hope beyond, died treating the sick. To me he died a hero. For many years my brother would have nothing to do with me, but as the years went by, and your father grew into a fine youth, he gradually softened.”