by Carla Kelly
“Gently, my dear. His ribs are broken in several places.” He pulled back the blanket to show her the bandages wound tight around his chest.
To her surprise, the surgeon took her hand and placed it on the bandage just above his waist. “Feel that.”
A question in her eyes, she cautiously prodded Captain Spark. “It feels like paper under there.” She looked at Lease then, as the color drained from her face. “The dispatch? But why didn’t you just destroy it?”
He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “You need that dispatch to convince the Admiralty that Antigua’s governor and Lord Luckingham at the Horse Guard are traitors. Otherwise, it is just the word of two Americans who have no love lost on the Royal Navy.” He smiled at her. “At least, I think this is Adam’s case. About you, I am not so sure.”
Hannah regarded him seriously. “I am not sure either, sir.”
“Well, so it sits. I have received a message from Futtrell. He had commandeered a fishing boat and plans a rescue tonight.”
She gasped. “Do you think he can do it? Someone has to get the captain out of here!”
Lease regarded her with a smile. “Precisely my thought. Colonel Aillet is quite prepared to forward our captain to France and the guillotine, as soon as he is able to stand the rigors of the voyage.”
“But Mr. Futtrell!” she protested, and then lowered her voice when Spark stirred in his sleep. “He is so young!”
“You will be amazed what people can do, if they have to, my dear Miss Whittier,” he replied, his tone mild, his eyes touched with that weariness again that went beyond mere physical exhaustion. “All I ask is that you stay close to Adam tonight and be ready to do what he tells you.”
She nodded, her eyes on the captain. Lease watched her a moment, then turned away to a sailor who called for a drink of water. “Remember, my dear Miss Whittier. Stay close to Adam.”
Hannah knelt another moment beside Spark’s pallet, and then covered his bandaged ribs with the blanket again. She surveyed the wreckage before her, one eye swollen shut, a nose beaky now at the bridge where it had once been so straight. “Well, thee will certainly look more fearsome on the quarterdeck,” she whispered, resting the back of her band against his neck.
To her surprise, Spark opened his one good eye and looked back at her. “Bosoms,” he mumbled and then closed his eye again, as though the effort was too great. “I was getting awfully tired of that black-and-white check, Lady Amber. Bosoms. Much better ....” He was silent then.
I should be offended by thee, she thought as she watched him another moment, then carefully removed her hand from his neck. I wonder why I am not?
“Thee is a pitiful specimen,” she whispered and kissed his hair. “Perhaps we should chum thee for sharks.”
He opened his eye again. “I intend to mend rapidly, Hannah.”
She patted his neck again and rose without comment, pausing in the doorway, wondering if she would see him alive again. My dear captain, she thought, once you told me that the worst fear was the sound of the guns firing and running in and out. It is worse, far worse, to fear for the life of another.
Chapter Eleven
Hannah would have given the world for a glimpse of Adam Winslow, but he was nowhere to be found. As it was, she endured a tour of Terceira’s fortress of São Miguel by Madame Aillet, who had a tendency toward the morbid, and dwelt at length on prisoners who had suffered torture in the dungeons. It was not an itinerary designed to soothe her concern over Daniel Spark’s probable fate. She had asked, at the end of the tour, if she could return briefly to the makeshift hospital where the Americans lay, but Madame Aillet’s raised eyebrows ended that attempt. She allowed herself to be escorted to her room, where Madame admonished her to lie on her bed for relief from the enervating heat that rolled across Terceira in ate afternoon.
She told herself she was not tired. Hannah paced the room as the little slave skipped after her, fanning, wishing there was something she could do for Daniel Spark besides worry about him. She stopped finally, when she noticed the child was out of breath, sighed, and lay down on the bed, certain that she would never sleep when someone so dear to her suffered. She was asleep almost before she finished castigating herself.
When she woke, the sky was cloudy and thunder rumbled across the choppy water of the bay. She sat by the window in her chemise, staring out at the palm bent by sudden gusts of wind. When the rain finally began, it was almost a physical relief for her. She continued to stare at the water, wondering what Lieutenant Futtrell had planned, and wishing it were Mr. Lansing, older and more seasoned, still alive and in charge of a rescue attempt. She knew Adam Winslow well, and could only hope that the events of the past month had given him the maturity he would need for whatever part he played in the events about to unfold.
And what about thee, Hannah Whittier, she asked herself. Is thee capable of instant action? What length will thee travel to see to the safety of Captain Spark? She did not know the answer, beyond a fervent desire to see him alive and stalking many another quarterdeck, the wind at his cheek, and his eyes on the sails. It is not because I love him, she assured herself. He meets none of my requirements for a husband, beyond the fact that he is patient with me, and kind, and listens to what I say. I wish I could say that I was indifferent to his kiss, and the warmth I feel when he is very near, but that appears to be the nature of rascals.
Her unprofitable thoughts were given a new direction by the summons to dinner. She followed the servant down the polished stone hallway to a charming banquet room with a balconied view of the harbor. Adam Winslow, wearing a handsome coat of French cut that almost fit him, beamed at her as he stood conversing with the Aillets, and a tonsured Dominican soon introduced as Madame’s confessor. Other officers, some in French uniform, some in Portuguese, made up the dinner guests. She found herself seated between two Frenchmen, whose English was rudimentary at best, and whose sole occupation appeared to be gazing down her bosom without drawing attention to the fact.
Dinner was delicious, especially the fish garnished with lemons from Terceira’s orchards, and concluded with a robust Madeira already so highly praised by the colonel. Hannah ate what was set before her and wondered why it tasted no better to her than sea biscuits, salt beef, and Cookie’s heavenly plum duff.
When the last plate was removed, the colonel nodded to his wife, who rose and gestured to Hannah.
“My dear, let us leave these men to their politics and cigars,” she said, holding out her hand.
No, Hannah thought in sudden panic. She looked at Adam, who rose and held out a closely written paper.
“Colonel, please indulge us.” he said, after bowing to Madame Aillet. He pointed to the paper. “I have taken the liberty of enumerating all the wrongs done to us on the Dissuade.” He looked at Hannah. “I would like to read it, and then request that Captain Spark be brought here to sign it.”
“But, my dear boy, he can hardly walk!” the colonel protested. “I must save him from all exertions for the guillotine.”
Adam’s chin went up, and Hannah suppressed a smile. Ah, Colonel Aillet, she thought, you do not know how stubborn this young man can be. She sat down again, content that Adam would prevail.
“I think you owe it to us,” Adam said. “I want that beast to hear this, and then I want him to sign it. And I hope he hurts. It would only be a slight recompense for all the wrong he has done us. If you are of a mind to return us to the Caribbean, I want to slap this in the hand of England’s ambassador to the United States, once we are home again. The doctor can bring Spark here.”
Hannah watched her young friend, secretly impressed by the set of his jaw. She leaped to her feet. “I can only second what my friend has said. We have grievances which must be addressed, if not in London, then in Washington, D.C.an, I
The colonel considered the request, then motioned them closer. “Come, you two! I will do as you say.”
Hannah hurried to Adam’s side. He took her hand and he
ld it close to his chest. “Let us hope he does not come with a squad of soldiers,” he whispered to her as the colonel conversed with his fellow officers, then sent them from the room.
“He will be with us soon,” said the colonel. “Some more Madeira?”
While the colonel returned to the table to pour another glass, Adam leaned closer to Hannah. “All I know is that Dr. Lease told me he had arranged some kind of diversion.”
She looked at him, a question in her eyes, as the thunder, louder now, rolled across the bay. “Thee must be ready for anything,” he told her, then accepted the Madeira with a smile from Colonel Aillet.
They seemed to wait forever, and Hannah writhed inside, wondering if Captain Spark was too badly injured to mount the stairs. Madame Aillet finally retired to the chapel with her confessor, and the colonel went to the window to smoke his cigar and watch the progress of the storm.
“I wish thee knew what Dr. Lease has in mind,” she whispered to Adam.
“So do I,” he replied, his eyes on the doorway. Suddenly his grip tightened on her hand. “Well, at least we will know soon. As the captain says, ‘Tally-ho, Lady Amber.’ ”
She turned to the door to see the captain, leaning heavily on the surgeon, enter the room. The swelling had lessened, but he still could open only one eye. His usually impeccable white trousers were bloodstained and dirty, and Lease had thrown a shirt about his shoulders. She sighed. There was no guard. This was no surprise; in his present condition, Captain Sir Daniel Spark was no threat to anyone. She peered closer, that look of dogged determination in his one open eye was familiar to her. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Colonel Aillet would not realize what a fire burned within the battered man before him.
“Ah, my dear Captain Spark.” the colonel said. “So good of you to join us.”
Spark grunted and sank with a groan into a chair. Lease set his medicine satchel on the table and glowered at the colonel. “I do not know why you have summoned us here, but I must protest such treatment of the wounded,” he said, and then pointed a finger at Adam. “Don’t you think the guillotine punishment enough?”
Hannah gasped as Adam slapped the surgeon across the mouth with the rolled up document. “I cannot stomach your English arrogance,” he shouted back. “We have suffered grievously at this monster’s hands, and I will be satisfied!”
It was a convincing performance. The colonel, bristling with indignation, stepped between Adam and the doctor. “Monsieur, remember that you are a guest in my dining hall!” he protested to Adam.
Lease turned a cold stare upon Adam, who glared back. “It is what I expect from American rabble!” the surgeon said, his voice heavy with disdain.
They glowered at each other while Captain Spark rested his forehead on the table. The colonel chuckled. “Captain, you have reminded us of the reason for this visit. I am sure that my dear American guests will look forward to that moment when your head is situated just so under the blade before it drops.”
“Bastards,” the captain muttered, not raising his head.
“Why you ....” Adam reached for Spark, but Lease grabbed the back of his coat.
“Now, now, gentlemen!” the colonel admonished again. “Monsieur Winslow, I suggest that you read your document, so the captain can sign it.” He giggled. “At least, if he has enough unbroken fingers to sign it.”
Adam snapped open the paper, stood in front of the captain and ship’ s surgeon, and read his catalog of injuries, some real, most imagined, dealt them on the last voyage of the Dissuade. He paused to scowl at the captain, who leaned back in his chair now, silent in the face of such accusation.
When Adam finished, his last words still ringing in the hall, he slapped down the paper in front of Captain Spark. Colonel Aillet procured quill and ink from the buffet and set it on the table before the captain, after clearing a space among the dishes. “I wonder that England allows such men as you to go to sea,” he said as he dipped the quill in the ink and handed it to Spark.
The captain looked up from his own contemplation of the document spread before him. “And you have waged a humane war?” he asked quietly as he took the pen awkwardly in his hand. Hannah winced to see his swollen knuckles and the way he sucked in his breath as he applied pressure with his arm.
The scratch of the pen seemed loud in her ears. She turned away, unable to bear the sight of Spark in such pain. She met Lease’s glance, wondering at the lights that flickered in his own eyes. She had seen nothing but defeat and melancholy mirrored in them before, but now they glowed with a brilliance that made her shiver. Is thee truly mad, she wondered as Colonel Aillet presented the document to Adam with a flourish.
“Yes, yes, soon his head will roll,” Aillet assured them. He nodded in Lease’s direction, too. “And yours, doctor.”
Lease whirled around, his mouth open. “And what have I done to deserve such a fate?” he asked, his voice rising unpleasantly.
Colonel Aillet spread out his hands, palms up. “Surely you do not think Napoleon will be inclined to spare you? I am certain that Dr. Guillotine will be happy to extend professional courtesies to you, too.”
Lease grabbed Aillet by the front of his uniform. “I think not, Colonel,” he hissed, “especially when I show you what is in this bag. I believe I have a dispatch from the Bergeron that you will be grateful to see in Napoleon’s hands. Only consider how he will thank you.”
Spark looked up from the table then, and tried to rise. “Good God, Andrew,” he said, the devastation in his voice unfeigned. “You were supposed to destroy that!”
Hannah looked from one man to the other, and then at Adam, a question in her eyes. Adam shook his head and edged closer to her. “Sits the wind in that quarter?” he murmured. “I think our surgeon is playing a deep game with France.”
Hannah shook her head. “Thee doesn’t understand, Adam!” She stared at the surgeon, wondering why he had told no one else about the infamous dispatch, which he had bandaged to the captain without his kledge.
His eyes burning into the surgeon, Captain Spark tried to rise from the table, only to sink back in pain. “Damn you, Andrew,” he shouted. “I think you are mad that you would betray your king and country!”
Lease only smiled and turned his full attention to the colonel, retrieving his medicine satchel from the table and leading the colonel to the buffet. “I merely wish to maintain my head’s connection with my neck,” he said with a backward glance and a smirk at the captain.
“Hand it to me,” the colonel said, snapping his fingers in his urgency.
“Patience, mon colonel,” the surgeon said. “I had thought the French liked ceremony. What say you to offering me one of those cigars you have been smoking, and then I show it to you? Over here, too, where the light is better.”
The colonel smiled and selected a cigar, and a match, which Lease took from his hand. Smiling broadly, he led the colonel to the balcony and struck the match against the stone tracery.
Captain Spark stirred uneasily. “He doesn’t smoke,” he murmured. “I wish you would stop him, Adam.”
“And he doesn’t have the dispatch,” Hannah said, her voice low.
“Tally-ho,” the surgeon said distinctly as he opened the medicine satchel and dropped the match inside.
Everything happened at once. Hannah looked at the captain, and then with a strength Hannah wouldn’t have credited, he grabbed her and pulled her colone floor. He tugged her under the massive dining room table and fell on top of her at the same time Adam dropped beside them and the medicine satchel exploded.
The concussion from the blast seemed to ricochet from wall to wall and then inside her head, even though Captain Spark clapped his hands over her ears. Chunks of stone crashed onto the dining room table, and all the glasses and china on the sideboard tinkled into shards as the three of them huddled close together. When the room was finally silent, the captain took his hands from her in time to hear a similar explosion in the harbor, and another.
> Adam was the first to stand. He dragged Hannah from under the table, his hand trembling, his voice high pitched. “Hannah, was this his diversion? Oh, God, how could he?”
The two of them helped the captain to his feet. “How could he not?” said the captain, looking at the gaping hole where two men had been standing only seconds before. He took Hannah’s arm. “I do not wish to appear callous, but let us not look a gift horse in the mouth. Lead on, Adam. Andrew showed us the way out, and I think he, Mr. Futtrell, and the Marines have created enough diversion for us to get to the harbor.”
They descended the stairs slowly, a step at a time, clutching the captain between them as soldiers raced past them, hurrying toward the sound of the explosion in the banquet hall. Hannah held her breath, wondering why the French soldiers did not stop them, but they appeared intent upon reaching the dining room to report to the colonel. Hannah shuddered to think how fast they would come down those stairs again when they found the colonel in as many pieces as the chinaware and crystal. Somewhere deep within the walls of São Miguel, she heard a woman screaming. “Poor Madame Aillet.” she said out loud.
They were met at the outer archway by a phalanx of red-coated Marines and sailors waving cutlasses. “Thank God.” Captain Spark said, and pitched forward, unconscious. The Marine with the broadest shoulders picked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a bag of feathers and set out at a dogtrot for the harbor, which was ablaze now with burning shops and fired boats.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” said a sailor Hannah recognized from her days aloft in the lookout. He picked her up and raced after the Marine, while Adam ran alongside, grinning from ear to ear.
Soon they were in the harbor and surrounded by more Marines and sailors returning from other parts of town. They carried with them squawking chickens and piglets trussed within an inch of their lives and other souvenirs of a sleepy town which, until the Dissuade sank in its harbor, must have thought itself far removed from the troubles in Napoleon’s Europe.