“Angus!”
“Hello, Jamie. Is Captain Thibodeaux available today, or shall I come back again later?”
“He be here. I told him ye’d be wishin’ to see him, an’ that ye be Master Robbie’s brother-in-law. He said to show ye to his cabin when ye come up.”
Angus followed the boy up the steps to the foredeck. Jamie rapped on a door. “Cap’n!” he called. “Tis Master Robbie’s brother Angus to see ye!”
A deep voice from within rumbled something Angus couldn’t make out.
“Go on, then, sir,” encouraged Jamie. “He ain’t so fearsome once ye get to know him.”
Caught off guard, Angus stumbled into the cabin. It was a good-sized room, lined with chests and cabinets. On one table was a pile of maps and a sextant for navigation. A pair of lanterns dangled overhead. Captain Thibodeaux leaned over a desk, his back to Angus. He was writing in a journal.
“Un momente, s’il vous plait,” he murmured.
Angus occupied himself by examining the treasures hanging on the wall. There were paintings and woodcarvings, and on a table sat an ornate brass globe.
“Pardonnez moi,” said the Captain. “I was working on the ship’s log for today. You are Monsieur MacFarlane’s brother, no?”
“Not exactly. His brother was married to my youngest sister.” Angus turned around, and gulped audibly. Captain Thibodeaux was nothing like he had expected. The captain laughed.
“I see Robert did not tell you much about me, eh?”
Angus blushed. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I thought ye’d be… er…”
“A white man?” Thibodeaux grinned.
“Aye,” admitted Angus. Dominic Thibodeaux had skin the color of a walnut, and was easily the tallest man Angus had ever seen, even taller than Rob. He wore a large gold hoop in each ear, and had tattoos on nearly every visible surface of his body, including his cheeks and forehead.
“A pleasure to meet you, monsieur,” he said in his soft island lilt, extending his enormous hand. Angus reciprocated.
“The pleasure is mine, sir,” he smiled. The cabin boy had been right. Thibodeaux seemed like a pleasant sort. “Forgive me for prying, but how did ye end up as the captain of a merchant vessel?”
“Ah! You ask how a black man could be in this position? Same as a white man could be. I come from far away, across the sea. The traders bring me to New Orleans, and I start out as a slave, on the docks, and I work hard. Monsieur MacFarlane found me. Not Robert, his uncle Andrew.” Robbie’s name came out as the French Ro-behr. “He put me to work, set me free, and asked me to stay on. Nobody else can navigate The Lady Meg like Dominic Thibodeaux. So here I be, eh?”
Angus smiled. “Ye know Robbie wants to sell his share, aye?”
“Oui. And you think the new owners may not like a black man at the helm, perhaps?”
“It did cross my mind,” Angus said dryly. He was examining a life-sized brass statue of a naked island girl. “She’s a beauty.”
“Merci. Have a drink,” the captain offered. “The finest rum in Jamaica.”
Angus sipped cautiously, then smiled. “Och, that’s lovely. What will you do when Rob sells his share?”
Thibodeaux shrugged. “We shall see. Perhaps I shall buy his share myself and become partners with Andrew.”
“Can ye afford it?” Angus blurted out, not thinking.
The other man winked. “As much as the next man, eh? Your brother-in-law is a frugal man, Robert is, and he has taught me the importance of not spending money foolishly. Perhaps I shall use what he has taught me to buy this ship from him.”
“Don’t the British give ye any trouble? I would think they would assume ye were a slave.”
Thibodeaux laughed. “I do not go out much when I am in Richmond. That is why I keep so many white men around. They do my errands for me!”
Angus chuckled. Now that he thought about it, it was unlikely that the soldiers would waste their time harassing a seven-foot-tall black man with a tattooed face.
“Well, I may have some interesting news for you,” said Angus. “I’ve just come from Philadelphia. I have a letter of authority for you from Congress.” He handed the paper to Thibodeaux.
Thibodeaux waved his hand, and put his boots up on the desk casually. “And this letter says?”
Angus cleared his throat. “Congress has authorized merchantmen to seize British vessels. We’re hoping that if enough are taken, the British will begin to see the advantage of withdrawing from the Colonies.”
The captain nodded. “And anything we capture, what happens to the cargo?”
“You keep it.”
“And the men?”
Angus sighed. “That’s a wee bit more difficult. Some of them may wish to join you, and if ye’ll have them, that’s fine. Those who refuse should be dropped off at the nearest port of call.”
Thibodeaux leaned in closer. “Begging your pardon, Monsieur Duncan, but does Congress realize that there are times when we go months between ports?”
Angus shifted uncomfortably. “Er, well, yes. Of course, you would be authorized to do whatever necessary to maintain peace on your ship.”
The captain’s brown eyes narrowed. “And Congress is permitting this piracy?”
“Actually, we like to think of it as privateering for the common good of our nation, ye ken?”
Thibodeaux smiled broadly. “This Congress of yours is clever. I should be happy to do my part for the patriotic movement, oui?”
“Oui. Good for you, Captain Thibodeaux.”
“Dominic, please. When will Robert be arriving?”
Angus swirled the deep brown rum in his glass. “That’s a good question, Capt – sorry, Dominic. I should hope he’d be here soon. I received a letter from my sister Mollie. She says there’s been a wee spot of mischief at home.”
Thibodeaux raised an eyebrow. “Is Robert in trouble?”
“No, no,” Angus shook his head hastily. “Something about a woman.”
The sea captain snorted. “I have been friends with Monsieur Robert for nearly a dozen years. I have never known him to allow a woman to interfere with his life.”
“Well, apparently one has. I dinna know the extent of it, but I’m sure he’ll only tell us what he wants us to know, and not a bit more.”
“To be certain, that sounds like Robert.”
The men chatted a bit longer, and then Angus excused himself. He needed to get back to the wharf. A tavern girl named Katherine had hinted that she would be available this afternoon.
By that night, Angus was thoroughly inebriated. Katherine had failed to appear at the Captain Carter, and instead Angus had made himself comfortable with a group of raucous young men from Boston who were passing through town. One of them raised toast after toast, each of which Angus politely saluted.
“To liberty!” the young man shouted.
“To liberty,” Angus echoed. He tossed back his umpteenth glass of whiskey, and felt his head begin to spin. He bid his companions goodnight, and staggered upstairs to his room. He paused in the hallway to vomit on his brocade vest, and then made his way through the door. As he slammed it shut behind him, he had a brief sense of something being wrong, but he was too drunk to be sure what it was. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had not needed to unlock his door when he came in. He spun dizzily to look behind him. All Angus Duncan saw was a dark shape, and the flash of a sword’s blade.
He collapsed in a drunken heap on the floor.
“I think you scared him,” pointed out Wanda, as she dragged Angus to his bed.
“I didn’t mean to,” apologized Cam. “I just wanted to show him his father’s sword so he would know I had really been at the ridge with Mollie.”
Wanda sniffed suspiciously. “Drunk as a lord. Probably a good thing he passed out. Small men can be feisty when they get drunk.”
“Is that so?” asked Cam.
Wanda winked. “It is. I like small guys. He’s kind of cute, isn’t he? He looks so peaceful. Aside
from the fact that he’s gone and barfed on himself, I mean.”
“Not my type, but I’ll agree with you on the peaceful part. Now what do we do?”
Wanda settled herself on the floor in the corner. “Now we wait for our friend Angus to wake up. You sleep first.”
Cam needed no encouragement. It had taken them a while to get to Richmond, especially after Wanda’s horse had up and died on them when they were just a few miles out of town. They walked the rest of the way, and Cam had been thankful for her men’s clothes. They had encountered some thoroughly unsavory people on the way, not the least of which being several garrisons of British soldiers headed north at double-time.
Wanda had filled Cameron in a little on Revolution history. She said the soldiers were mostly likely headed to New York, gathering for the upcoming battle at Montreal.
“Johnny Burgoyne is a British general. He’ll be sailing up the St. Lawrence River with about ten thousand men in the next few weeks,” Wanda had said. It was eerie, to Cam, knowing what was going to happen before it took place. She didn’t like it.
“Don’t tell me any more,” she said. “I don’t want to know what happens.”
Wanda had laughed at her. “You already know, honey. I mean, I hate to spoil the movie for you but you do remember that the patriots win, right?”
“That’s not what I mean at all, and you know it.”
Cam was, however, thankful for some of Wanda’s knowledge. She seemed to know exactly where to locate Angus Duncan, and it had only been a matter of asking around at several taverns to figure out which one he was in. A small sliver of moonlight filtered in, and Cam watched Angus. It was hard to fathom that this man was her great-ancestor. She tried hard to see a resemblance between Angus and herself, but couldn’t. He looked a good deal like Mollie. He was small and wiry, with the same pointed nose and pale blond hair. She wondered how Mollie was, and with that came thoughts of Rob. She pushed them away and went to sleep.
When she awoke, Wanda was sitting on the bed chatting with Angus Duncan, who looked surprisingly well for a man who had been in his condition the night before.
“Oh, good, you’re up,” said Wanda, flashing a smile. “Angus, this is Cam, the one I was telling you about.”
“So you’re the one! Mollie wrote me a bit about you and your problems.”
“My problems?” There were so many at this point, Cam was unsure which ones Mollie would have mentioned.
“Aye. She mentioned that cad who claimed to be your husband and tried to kill you. Sinclair, was it?”
“Oh, yes. Him. I don’t know where he is, and I guess that’s a good thing,” she mumbled.
Angus scratched his head. “Aye, I suppose so, but if ye dinna ken where he is, then how d’ye know you’re safe?”
She shrugged. He had a valid point. “I guess I don’t know that I am.”
“Cam, Angus says Rob should be here sometime soon. Angus has been trying to find someone to buy the ship.”
“Wonderful. In the meantime, what do we do? I’m starving and I need a bath.”
“A wee bit hostile in the mornings, is she not?” Angus asked Wanda, as if Cam wasn’t even there.
“Aye,” nodded Wanda. “It’s okay, Cam. We can trust Angus. Can’t we?”
The man nodded assent.
“Good. Then why don’t you go get us something to eat, and we’ll see about a bath later?”
Cam realized Wanda was talking to her. “I have to go downstairs like this? I smell!”
Wanda sat down beside her, and smoothed out her skirts. “We all do, honey. Everyone here does, and since this place is full of sailors I expect most of them smell worse than you. Stop whining, and go get us some food.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, I have some personal business with Angus Duncan.”
Cam rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to know. Be nice to him. He’s my great-grandpa,” she whispered.
Wanda giggled and shoved her out of the room. Cam wandered downstairs, where things were still relatively quiet, as early as it was. A sleepy barmaid was sweeping the floor, and glanced up in surprise when Cam entered the room.
“Mornin’ to ye, sir,” she smiled. Her eyes widened a bit. “Ooh! Sorry, missus. I didn’t realize you was a woman, dressed in breeks like ye are!”
“It’s okay. Is there anything to eat?” Cam asked with a smile, and the barmaid brightened a little.
“I suppose I can find ye somethin’, if ye don’t mind last night’s leftovers.”
“That would be fine.”
The girl brought Cam a loaf of bread and some leftover stew, which by now Cam had become accustomed to. She also gave her large tankard of warm ale. Cam thanked the girl politely, and went back to Angus’ room.
“I have food. Guess what I got?”
“Stew and bread?” asked Wanda.
“You win a prize. I also was momentarily taken for a man because of these trousers, which brings me to my next point. Can I start dressing like a female again?” Although she had practically lived in jeans in Haver Springs, since arriving in the past she had become quite fond of the comfort of a long, loose skirt.
Angus laughed as he spooned up some stew. “I dinna see why you can’t put on something more decent. After all, ye’re back in civilization again.”
“Splendid. Where can I get clothes?”
Angus thought for a moment. “I’ve become a bit friendly with some of the tavern wh– the local ladies. Perhaps they could lend ye some dresses?”
Wanda nodded. “Perfect. And a hot bath, maybe?”
“Aye, there’s a bath to the rear of the kitchen. I’m sure Martha would fetch some water for ye. I dinna know that it would be hot, though.”
“Hot, cold, whatever,” replied Cam indifferently. “I just want to be clean before I put on new clothes.”
“Verra well, then.” Angus rose. “I’ll send Martha to fix your bath, and then I’ll talk to some of the ladies about some suitable clothing for ye. Although,” he reflected, “I’m no’ so sure they’ll be awake yet. I expect there was a lot o’ business last night.”
As the door closed behind him, Cam looked at Wanda. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What was your personal business with him?”
Wanda stared out the window. “I can’t say.”
“Why not?” Cam demanded. “I have a right to know.”
“You do not have any such thing. It’s personal,” retorted Wanda.
“Come on, Wanda. The guy’s my great-something ancestor. I can keep a secret!” Cam pleaded.
Wanda grinned. “So can I. The end.”
Cam flung a bread crust at her. “Okay, be that way.” She tried a different tactic. “Wanda, do you really think we can change history?”
“I don’t know, really. I think maybe we could, but most history is based on the actions of a whole lot of people working together. Or maybe it’s a question of predestined fate versus the ability to make a conscious choice. I’m not entirely sure.”
Cam frowned. “What do you mean, exactly?”
Wanda moved her skirt out of the way and folded her legs into a neat lotus position. “Do you remember in college biology, where you had to come up with a theory, and then find a way to prove or disprove it?”
“Um, sort of.”
“Okay. Let’s assume that the Wanda Mabry school of time travel is based on the following theory: Because someone who travels from the future to the past already has a basic idea of what’s going to happen, they have the option of causing things to change.”
Cam leaned forward, interested. She was trying to get her legs into a lotus too, but it didn’t quite work. “Go on.”
Wanda held up a finger. “You have to have a corollary to this theory, and that is the fact that any kind of major historical event – the American Revolution, for example – is the result of the activity of a whole lot of different people, not just one individual.”
“So,” Cam said slowly, “
what you’re saying is that we can’t prevent large-scale things like the Revolution from happening, because there were so many people and circumstances involved in its beginning.”
“Right. On the other hand, we could change smaller events in people’s lives. Remember when we were out on the road and I said something about running over Abraham Lincoln’s granny in the wagon? If that were to happen, it would mean nothing in the general scheme of things.”
“Because someone else would become president instead of Lincoln, and they would be the one who frees the slaves!” finished Cam triumphantly.
“Bingo!” Wanda grinned. “So even if I walk up to George Washington and tell him to make sure his men wear thick socks and good boots when they get to Valley Forge, it ain’t gonna change the fact that it’s going to be a long, cold winter, and a lot of men are going to get sick and die.”
“But the ones who live might not get frostbitten feet,” pointed out Cam.
“Exactly.” Wanda stretched and looked at Cam. “So here’s the real humdinger. What if history can’t be changed? What if all the actions we perform here, in the past, directly cause history, as we know it in the future, to remain the same? That would imply a predestined fate, and that we in fact have no choice in anything we do at all.”
“Ooh,” murmured Cam. She had never thought of that before, and it was troubling. “I like the first one better. The idea that if we’re going to be here, maybe we can change something small. I don’t like feeling that it’s all planned out already and we don’t have any free will at all,” she protested.
Wanda winked. “Gives you something to think about, doesn’t it?”
“No kidding,” she sighed. It gave her a lot to think about.
After a while, Angus came back, buried under a pile of clothing.
“I did the best I could, lass, but ye ken I have no idea for women’s sizes. I had to hazard a guess. I told the girls that you were my cousins come in from out of town.”
“Did the girls ask why your cousins had no clothes?” asked Wanda.
“Aye, in fact they did. I told them ye’d been set upon by robbers, who liberated you of all your belongings but your travelin’ clothes, which of course were no longer fit to wear once reaching Richmond.” He finished with a bow, and ceremoniously tossed the dresses on the bed.
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