"They won a resounding victory over us once with similar odds, as I recall," Sir Lionel said dryly.
"Indeed, and this time we will not underestimate the power of patriotic fervor. To that end, we have one hundred ships in the blockade line alone. Another eight hundred vessels are at our disposal, of which fewer than half are occupied in the war with Europe. No sir, their strength lies in their brashness and their leadership. Men like Decatur and the secretary of the navy, Paul Hamilton. These are men who can recruit the private forces and thus gain the loyalty—and in turn the immense firepower—of men like Morgan Wade. We have seen it happen before, in the very conflict you mentioned. A single man on horseback riding across the country roused a nation of farmers and butchers to take up arms and fight the entire British army."
"You think you can prevent that happening again by arresting and hanging one privateer?" Bennett Winfield looked amused.
"It is my task to discourage the private forces any way I deem possible. Cutting down one of their most prominent brethren is only a start."
"You still have to prove a case against Wade. If what you say is true and if he is in the employ of Captain Decatur, they will accept nothing less than solid, irrefutable evidence against him before any warrant can be issued."
Glasse offered up another thin-lipped smile. "I was rather hoping your wife might be of some assistance in that respect."
Bennett's face hardened at once. "My wife, sir?"
"She was on board the Chimera, was she not? Both she and her brother were picked up by Wade off Saint Barthelemy after the Sea Vixen's unfortunate demise."
The men fell silent and stared. Sir Lionel's brows knitted together. "You are treading on dangerous ground now, Mr. Glasse. I will not have anyone coming into my house making wild accusations and upsetting my daughter."
Glasse turned his cadaverous stare on Summer, who was sitting very still, her shoulders squared, her back stiff, her face almost as rigid as Bennett's. "I assure you it is not my intention to upset Mrs. Winfield. I merely hoped to learn more than what was in the official report of the rescue."
Bennett surged to his feet. "Now see here, Glasse—"
"Calm yourself, Commodore Winfield. There is no need for a display of chivalry. For my part, I can promise you that nothing your wife says will leave this circle. I can also promise you that my sources are impeccable. I know it to be the truth that Mrs. Winfield and her brother were rescued by the Chimera, not the Vigilant. I also know Captain Morgan Wade was at the helm, not his henchman Stuart Roarke, although I can fully appreciate why the discrepancy was allowed to remain in the report."
"You are coming very close to abusing your welcome," Bennett said coldly. "I urge you to caution, sir."
"How the blazes did you deduce it was Wade?" Sir Lionel demanded. "And yes, do sit down, Bennett. Obviously there were more than five men on this island who were familiar with the name Roarke. At least let us hear what the bounder has to say before we run him through."
After Bennett slowly took his seat again, Glasse cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat. "My deductions were not all that difficult, not to someone who has studied Wade's background as intently as I have. Stuart Roarke's name has been mentioned several times as a close associate, although in what capacity it is not generally known. He, like Wade, seems to have simply appeared from nowhere. Here too, Mrs. Winfield may be able to help us."
Six stony countenances turned to face her and Summer looked at each one in turn before settling on the coldest of them all: Bennett Winfield.
"From the little I know, sir," she said to Glasse, "I can only say that Mr. Roarke appeared to be a close friend of Captain Wade's. He has his own ship, the Vigilant, but apart from that—"
"Were you taken to Wade's island, to Bounty Key?"
Summer moistened her lips, which allowed her another brief hesitation. "We were."
Glasse leaned forward and if his ears could have perked, they would have stuck straight up from his head. "And? Can you tell us where it is?"
"My husband and father asked the same question, sir, and I shall give you the same answer I gave them: I have no idea where the island is, only that it lies in a northerly direction. I can tell you it had a narrow beach with a wide cove and deep anchorage."
"A town? A fishing village?"
"None that I saw. It seemed quite private."
"Landmarks? Any distinguishing shape visible from the sea?"
"We were kept below, in the cabin, when we approached the island and again when we departed."
Glasse made a hissing sound through his teeth. "And you saw nothing while you were on the island that might make it stand apart?"
"I am afraid not, no."
"You said a deep water harbor?"
Summer nodded and answered truthfully, "Both ships were able to drop anchor within fifty yards of shore."
Glasse digested this scrap of information then pressed on. "Were you able to see any other islands nearby?"
"From the beach, no."
"When you approached, or when you sailed away?"
"As I said, sir, we were told to remain below both times. I do know that both Captain Wade and Mr. Roarke changed course several times, most likely as a precaution to confuse us."
"How do you know this?"
Summer's eyes took on a slightly greener cast. "Unless I am mistaken, sir, the sun still rises in the east and sets in the west?"
Sir Lionel guffawed loud enough to earn a narrowed glance from Glasse. The governor adjusted his periwig and signaled a manservant to bring out the brandy.
Glasse reverted his attention to Summer. The undercurrent of hostility was not lost on him. Her cheeks were warmly flushed, her mouth was set, and her gaze admirably steady, but the knuckles of her fingers were white from the pressure of clasping her hands so tightly together. She knew more than she was willing to impart, but as yet he could not discern why.
"The Chimera, if you please," he continued. "I am told it was damaged on a reef in the same storm that sunk the Sea Vixen?"
Summer nodded again. "The captain was quite furious when he was told it would take a month or more to affect repairs properly."
"A month? The damage must have been quite extensive."
Summer looked down into her lap and smoothed a wrinkle on her skirt. The dress was one of her favorites among her new purchases—peach moiré with a soft rose silk overdress. She doubted if she would wear it again in the near future.
"Forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Winfield, but for someone who suffered such a horrendous experience, you seem to lack a certain clarity in remembering details."
She looked up. "I remember the fear, Mr. Glasse. The fear of drowning, of possibly watching my brother drown, of floating for hours, helpless, on a piece of planking no larger than a tea trolley while sharks swam beneath us. I also remember the utter and absolute relief of finding a deck beneath our feet again and warm broth filling our empty bellies. If I am remiss in lacking knowledge of how far we sailed or in what direction, I do extend my most humble apologies, but frankly, I could have cared less so long as Michael and I were both safe and alive."
"Here, here," Admiral Stonekipper grumbled quietly.
But Glasse persisted. "Even so, Mrs. Winfield, your elusive answers leave me wondering if you harbor some modicum of admiration for Wade."
"I owe him my life, Mr. Glasse, and my brother's life as well. That aside, I will admit to having sympathy for any man who is convicted without a chance to properly defend himself."
"Wade is as guilty as sin itself," Glasse said flatly. "Discounting the charges of treason and espionage, he is still sought for the brutal slaying of a young woman in London. Murder, Mrs. Winfield, is indefensible."
"As is the death of common sense, sir. You have no proof the captain is this Edmund Granville, only speculation."
"He will be given ample opportunity to clear his name...if he can."
"With men like you as judge and jury? I would be surprised i
f he reached the courtroom alive."
Glasse was mildly taken aback. His eyes glittered at the insolent tone in her voice and he echoed it in his own.
"You have a point to make, madam?"
"A point, sir? I believe the Northgate made it when she opened fire on Captain Wade while his ship was trapped in a channel, crippled, and unable to maneuver enough to even defend against an attack."
"An isolated incident, madam, although he could hardly complain as one who has done so himself, many times, to merchant ships unable or unwilling to return fire. Indeed, we need more men like Forbes if we hope to put an end to these acts of blatant piracy."
"Rescuing shipwreck survivors, defending oneself against attack...these are now considered acts of piracy?" Summer asked coldly.
"Running blockades, smuggling guns, and committing acts of cold blooded murder most definitely are, madam." Glasse countered evenly. "And you will find it downright uncomfortable if it is discovered that you have deliberately withheld information that could lead to the arrest of Morgan Wade. I caution you against any such actions, regardless of whether you feel indebted to the man for saving your life, as they might well be considered treasonous."
Bennett was on his feet a split second before Harvey Aslop. "That remark was uncalled for, sir. My wife has been through a horrendous ordeal as it is without having to suffer your insolence. You will apologize at once and remove yourself from my presence or I will, indeed, call you out for it."
Glasse's lips twisted down. "Naturally I meant no offence. Do forgive my over-zealousness Mrs. Winfield, it was not my intention to upset you. Ladies, Gentlemen," he rose and bowed stiffly. "My apologies."
At a glance from Bennett, the manservant led the odious little man along the veranda and through the house to retrieve his hat and walking stick.
"Not a moment too soon," the governor grumbled. "Another word and I'd have called him out myself. Are you alright, my dear?"
Summer nodded, more shaken than she cared to admit. "Yes, thank you. I am fine."
"A tot of brandy, perhaps? Deuced better than coffee under the circumstances."
Admiral Stonekipper was still frowning. "He'll be trouble, mark my words. And not the best enemy to be had either. Friends in high places, what? I've seen dozens like him in my day: troublemakers, warmongers. They get an idea in their heads and hold onto it like a mutt with a bone, not letting up until it's gnawed to dust." He glanced up from beneath his bushy brows. "If there is anything else you would care to tell us, Summer, anything you may have thought a trivial detail, best to have it out now as later."
"Are you doubting my loyalty now too, Uncle?"
"Good God no, girl." The admiral held up his hands as if begging for quarter. "Your husband would have me flat out and gelded in no time. I am all for admiring a fox who is cunning enough to elude the hounds, but it does not mean he should be allowed to run amuck. And treason, by God! If the man truly is an Englishman—"
"Believe me, Uncle, Morgan Wade is no more a titled Englishman than is his President Madison."
"Summer—"
"There is absolutely nothing more I can add to what I have told you already. We were on board the Chimera for eight days and nights, two of which I slept through and was barely conscious long enough to know where I was. The third day we anchored off Saint Martin, making repairs that lasted another six days before the captain had to stop and repair the repairs. His ship was attacked on that last day by the Northgate before we made it safely to an island which I would not know again if I sailed directly past it. If this concludes the interrogation, gentlemen...?"
She stood, which prompted the admiral's wife to stand, which in turn brought all of the gentlemen to their feet. The two ladies removed themselves indoors without so much as a backward glance.
"By Jove she takes after her mother," Sir Lionel muttered, spreading his coattails to sit again. "Never once ended an argument face to face with that woman either."
"Well she did give us some clues as to the location of Bounty Key," Aslop said as they settled with cigars and more brandy.
Bennett glared at him. "You had best explain that, sir."
"Oh, I meant no disrespect, Commodore. It's just that...well...Mrs. Winfield did say eight days and eight nights, with the attack occurring on the last day. As soon as the Northgate returns from patrol, her logs should tell us precisely where they crossed paths with the Chimera. It narrows the location of Bounty Key considerably."
The admiral snorted. "It narrows the possibilities down to a few hundred islands rather than a few thousand."
Bennett narrowed his eyes. "Aslop has a valid point. Summer said the Chimera was trapped in a channel with no room to turn or maneuver. When she initially told us of the attack, I found it odd that the Northgate had not given pursuit. If one assumes there was not a wide enough berth for two ships to pass, she has given us more than just a clue. Sir Lionel, perhaps we could take another look at your chart?"
"Certainly, m'boy." He stood and led the way into his darkly panelled library where the enormous chart of the Caribbean islands was on display.
Bennett stood in front of it and tapped the canvas with a finger. "Alright, Aslop, You and I have patrolled these islands as many times as any man...where would a six day sail from Saint Barthelemy put us? We know the Chimera is a light frigate, comparable to a third or fourth rating. Smaller across the beam than the Northgate and much faster under full sail, capable of reaching speeds in excess of fifteen knots."
Admiral Stonekipper whistled appreciatively.
"She's a beautiful design," Bennett agreed grudgingly. "Sleek and fast, yet she still carries an arsenal of twenty-four long guns, ten eighteen-pounders, and four heavy carronades, plus an assortment of lighter swivel guns and bow chasers. Unusually fine equipment for a privateer going about his legal business interests."
Aslop was studying the chart closely. "One must assume, if he had stopped to affect further repairs, that he had been taking on water, which would slow his speed. Conversely, if it was my ship, I would be inclined to forego caution and plot a course for home port as direct as I dared."
Bennett nodded. "A steady nor' by nor'west, according to Michael. Not at full sail, which would strain the patch over the keel, so we might assume eight, ten knots at the most? He could have made it as far as the Cats, but I don't think so. He could have veered during the night, or backtracked, or threaded his way down through the Mona Passage and ended up somewhere around Jamaica, but again...I don't think so. North, gentlemen. That is my guess. Somewhere with easy access to the Florida Straits or—" he traced his forefinger slowly through and around the myriad small islands— "the Gulf coast. Somewhere he had to reach by going through a narrow channel."
"The Twin Sirens, sir," Aslop said suddenly. "Almost dead center."
Bennett slid his finger across the chart until he located the two small islands marked on the map. "By God," he mused. "You might be right. If that's the channel Summer was speaking of, we're damned lucky we didn't lose the Northgate altogether."
Sir Lionel was craning his neck to see and holding his wig in place at the same time. "What the blazes are you talking about? Why should we lose a frigate there?"
Aslop explained. "The Twin Sirens are part of an underwater volcanic ridge, sir, comprised of ten or so small islands that poke above the surface. They look harmless enough from a distance, like a string of atolls, but like icebergs, the bulk of the danger lies below the surface. The water between those atolls can be less than a fathom deep in places. Bloody treacherous if you don't know the right pathway through."
"Between the Twin Sirens?" Sir Lionel guessed.
"Or the Two Sisters, as they have also been dubbed," Bennett said. "The channel dividing them has to be approached at just the right angle or you risk tearing the keel off your ship. They were a favorite killing ground for pirates, who would lure Spanish galleons into the reef and not have to fire a shot to see them smash up against the rocks. For Wade to have
used the channel suggests he knows those waters damned well. And from that we can deduce his home port of Bounty Key must be somewhere—" his finger drew a circle around the chart due north of the Twin Sirens— "here. All we have to do is identify the islands within a day's sail, which we can likely narrow down to perhaps half a dozen."
"How long do you estimate your refitting of the Caledonia will take?" Stonekipper asked thoughtfully.
"She could be ready to sail within the week," Bennett replied. "I was planning to take her out for sea trials at that time."
"Hmm. These sea trials...where were you proposing to conduct them? I am told the French are becoming a nuisance up through the Mona Straits...and points north."
Bennett returned the admiral's steady gaze. "North, sir?"
The admiral nodded. "Wouldn't hurt to go up and have a closer look at those half-dozen islands you mentioned...discreetly of course."
"Of course, sir."
"As for the Northgate, while I might secretly agree with Glasse insofar as needing more men like Forbes willing to fire first and ask questions afterward, it will not do to have someone at the helm of a warship so eager to create an incident. We cannot be seen as the aggressors in this conflict, we cannot add fuel to the cries for war. If Forbes is itching for a fighting command, he can find it back in England, with Wellington's fleet. What d'you think of Ashton-Smythe? He is up for a command of his own."
Bennett nodded. "His officers speak very highly of him."
"I'll give it some serious thought. In the meantime, Commodore, I trust I can leave the details of your sea trials to you? No direct contact, if at all possible, just suss out the bastard's hidey-hole for now. As soon as the king's mistress finds herself short of spices and sugar for her sweets, we will be given our hunting orders, but for the moment...discretion in all things."
The men adjourned to the drawing room, citing some prime Madeira that wanted tasting. Bennett lingered in the library, listening as the rumble of voices crossed the hallway and faded to laughter. He stared thoughtfully up at the map and finished the two small swallows of brandy remaining in his glass.
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