The Liberty Bride

by Marylu Tyndall

  Emeline admired the schooner once again. Plain bow without a gammon knee, a square tuck stern and outside rudder steered with a tiller. On deck, a large hatchway opened between the masts, a capstan aft, and a windlass abaft the foremast. She had easy lines with rounded bilges, and her masts held a square-sail yard, a topsail yard, and a royal yard. Even as Emeline noticed all that, she realized how much she’d learned of ships the past few months. “I can’t believe my father gave this to us. She’s a beauty.”

  “Yes, she is quite a beauty.”

  By the tone of his voice, she could tell he wasn’t talking about the schooner. When she raised her gaze to his, the look in his eyes set every inch of her on fire.

  Were they really getting married that night?

  As if reading her mind, he ran a finger down her cheek. “I can’t wait.”

  Lowering her lashes, she stepped aside. “Well, Captain, you shall have to—at least for a few more hours.”

  “And here I thought you never wished to be imprisoned in marriage.” He arched a brow.

  She frowned and tapped a finger on her lips. “You’re right. What am I thinking?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Well, I suppose it depends on whether you intend to keep me chained to the stove with a swarm of wee ones nipping at my heels.”

  “Chained to the stove? No, I have better plans for you.” His eyes twinkled with desire before he shrugged and smiled. “But as for the wee ones, well, I was hoping we could have a ship full.”

  Emeline was sure her face had turned the color of a Maryland apple. “Why, Captain. Such talk before the wedding.”

  “You do want children, do you not?”

  She eased beside him and threaded her fingers in his. “If it’s a ship full you want, it is a ship full I’m happy to give, as long as you’re the father.”

  He smiled, wrapped an arm around her waist, and gazed up at the men repairing the sheets. “It was rather kind of your father to give us this as a wedding present.”

  She ran a finger over the smooth wood railing and gazed at Fort McHenry, where the American flag waved in the breeze. “After he met your uncle and confirmed your story, I believe he is quite proud to have you in the family.”

  Owen huffed. “If he only knew my past, he might reconsider.”

  “We all have a past, Owen.”

  Removing his hat, he raked back his hair. “Regardless, I am glad he trusts me with such a prize.” His gaze met hers again, and he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “And I don’t mean the schooner. Not only does he give me your hand in marriage, but he’s allowing you to sail off with me.”

  Emeline smiled. “I think he realizes by now that I would find a way onto the ship anyway.”

  His brows rose. “But you will obey me as your husband, will you not?”

  She pouted. “Of course. But only when we are in agreement.”

  “Hmm.” He feigned a frown of concern.

  The schooner creaked over a wavelet, and she glanced past the fort into the bay. “Like rescuing Hannah and my father’s crew. How could we not at least try?”

  “Agreed. Good of my uncle to send along the USS Constitution to help us.”

  “How long before we catch up to the Marauder?”

  “Word is, they left the Chesapeake just yesterday. So a day or two at most. We will set sail first thing in the morning. I’m only waiting on the guns my uncle sent to arrive.”

  Emeline spun a curl around her finger and smiled coyly up at Owen. “And after we perform a daring rescue of our compatriots, where to after that?”

  “Anywhere you want to go, love. Or should I say, anywhere God leads.” A warm breeze swirled around them as he gestured toward the open bay where sunlight transformed wavelets into lines of glittering silver. “He’s made the world for us to explore.”

  Emeline gripped Owen’s hands in hers, hardly able to contain her excitement. “I wish to paint a masterpiece of every port city.”

  “Then you shall! And while you’re doing that, we will tell the people who live there of God’s love and forgiveness.”

  “It sounds too marvelous to be true.” Emeline fingered the locket around her neck. “If only my mother had known such freedom. There is true freedom in following God, isn’t there? I always thought the Christian life was so confining.”

  “Me as well. What a pair we were.” He laughed. “I ran from the confining rules and you tried to abide by them. Neither of us were right.”

  She nodded and squeezed his hand.

  “Ah, the adventures we shall have, my lady.” He leaned to kiss her. Someone cleared their throat. Yet as Owen’s lips touched hers, Emeline thought to ignore it, but a murmured question gave her pause. “Do proper ladies kiss gentlemen in public?”

  That voice! Emeline spun to find her dear friend standing on the wharf, gripping her hands together in glee.

  “Hannah!” Arms out, Emeline darted across the wobbling gangplank and swallowed up her friend in her arms. “I can’t believe … how … where …?”

  “Slow down, dear.” Hannah kissed her cheek and nudged her back. “We were put ashore day afore yesterday. Cap’n Blackwell hisself bid us farewell, an’ his men rowed us to land.”

  Emeline’s mouth hung open. Owen approached the railing, his grin wide.

  Hannah glanced his way then continued. “I went ri’ to your home an’ your father told me you was here.”

  Emeline gripped Hannah’s hands and looked up at Owen. “But we were coming to rescue you.”

  “That’s wha’ he said! Wha’ are you thinkin’ embarkin’ on such a foolish mission, dear? God took care o’ us.” She squinted at the setting sun, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I hear you had quite the adventure.”

  Emeline smiled and lowered her gaze. “Indeed, we did.”

  Hannah pointed a finger at Owen. “I knew you was a good man. I knew it!”

  “We’re getting married right here on the ship. Today at sunset,” Emeline all but squealed out.

  “Today?” Hannah’s face lit. “How wonderful!”

  “You must come. I insist. You and Abner. Oh my, is everyone else from the Charlotte well?”

  “Yes. They are all in good health, happy to be home.” Hannah suddenly frowned. “All ‘cept the ones what went off with the Charlotte, that is.”

  Emeline sighed. “They should be freed once the war is over.”

  Gripping one of the lines, Owen planted a boot on the bulwarks. “Your husband is a quartermaster?”

  Shielding her eyes, Hannah gazed up at him. “Aye, he is.”

  “Thing is, I’m looking for a good quartermaster.” He shared a smile with Emeline.

  “What are you saying?” Hannah asked.

  “I’m asking you and your husband to join us. We’ll be merchants part of the time, missionaries part time, artists”—he smiled at Emeline—“and privateers when the occasion calls for it.”

  Hannah’s face split in a wide grin. “Sounds like an adventure I can’t pass up. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Abner.” She started down the wharf, waving a hand over her shoulder. “We’ll be back for the wedding.”

  Emeline crossed back over the plank and fell against Owen, inhaling a deep breath of his unique scent. She could hardly believe she’d be his wife in just a few hours. A ray of sunshine angled over the scar on his cheek.

  “You never told me how you got that scar.”

  Owen grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Let’s just say the story is not one to be told to a proper lady.”

  “Well, I do believe I’ve given up trying to be proper. Instead, I will simply follow my Lord and let Him show me what to do.”

  “Hmm. I suppose I should change the name of the ship then.”

  “Why? What have you called her?”

  “The Proper Lady of course.”

  Emeline laughed. “No. No. That will never do. Let me think.” She tapped her chin and gazed over the schooner, then over her beloved hometown of Baltimore, then at the other ships an
chored in the bay, and finally back to Owen. “I know. We must call her Liberty. For not only has our country found liberty, but we have as well.”

  Owen nodded his agreement. “Liberty it is, my lady.” Then, drawing her close, he leaned down and kissed her.

  AUTHOR’S HISTORICAL NOTE

  After the British marched on Washington, DC, in August 1814 and effectively conquered and burned much of it to the ground, they set their sights on Baltimore. The port city had been nothing but an annoyance during the war, sending out more privateers who wreaked havoc among British merchants than any other city. Overconfident and filled with pride after the ease with which they had conquered Washington, the British were positive that a victory in Baltimore would put an end to the War of 1812 and to the rebellious Americans.

  Their plan of attack was twofold. By sea, British ships would pummel the tiny Fort McHenry protecting the city and then sail into the harbor, where they would point their cannons at Baltimore until they surrendered. By land, they would send four thousand troops to storm the city and force its citizens into submission.

  On September 12, 1814, under the cover of night, some 4,200 British soldiers landed at North Point just outside Baltimore. General Ross and Rear Admiral Cockburn, who led the forces, enjoyed breakfast at the Gorsuch house five miles from the landing place. So confident were they of victory that when asked if they would be back for dinner, General Ross replied, “I’ll sup in Baltimore tonight—or in hell.”

  The generals were unaware of the American militia forces awaiting them just four miles away under the very competent command of General John Stricker and General Samuel Smith. Even so, the British troops were able to advance toward Baltimore, though they suffered several casualties, including General Ross himself. Rain also impeded their progress, transforming the landscape into mud and their uniforms into heavy, cold armor. Once they arrived at the outskirts of the city, they were met unexpectedly by twenty thousand American troops, more than one hundred cannons on heights covered by breastworks, and a line of fortified redoubts.

  Unwilling to advance and lose more men, the British camped within two miles of the American defenses, waiting for their ships to defeat Fort McHenry and sail into the harbor, where they would hold the city hostage at cannon point.

  With the American flag flying above Fort McHenry visible to both sides, British ships began their bombardment of the fort at dawn on September 13th. For the next twenty-five hours they would hurl more than 1,800 exploding shells at the fort, shaking the entire town for miles. Still, they were unable to take the fort, and on the morning of September 14th, the Royal Navy ships withdrew. (Check out my novel Surrender the Dawn for more information on the battle for Fort McHenry!)

  Seeing that they would not have the support of their ships, the commanders of the British troops decided to retreat rather than risk more casualties and a humiliating defeat. With the flag waving over Fort McHenry and Francis Scott Key writing our national anthem aboard a ship in the bay, the citizens of Baltimore celebrated their miraculous victory over the greatest military force at that time. Just three months later, the Treaty of Ghent was signed in Belgium, ending the War of 1812. Long live the Republic!

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  George, Christopher T. Terror on the Chesapeake: The War of 1812 on the Bay. Shippensburg, PA: White Mane Books, 2000.

  Healey, David. 1812: Rediscovering Chesapeake Bay’s Forgotten War. Rock Hill, SC: Bella Rosa Books, 2005.

  Hickey, Donald R. The War of 1812: A Short History. Bicentennial ed. Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2012.

  Muller, Charles G. The Darkest Day. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 2003.

  Sheads, Scott. Fort McHenry: A History. Baltimore: Nautical & Aviation Publishing Company of America, 1995.

  MaryLu Tyndall, a Christy Award finalist and bestselling author of the Legacy of the King’s Pirates series, is known for her adventurous historical romances filled with deep spiritual themes. She holds a degree in math and worked as a software engineer for fifteen years before testing the waters as a writer. MaryLu currently writes full-time and makes her home on the California coast with her husband, six kids, and four cats. Her passion is to write page-turning, romantic adventures that not only entertain but open people’s eyes to their God-given potential. MaryLu is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America.