Sarah moved to comfort the children, but Anne restrained her. “It is the noise from the slates that frightens them. In here, they only experience the noise.” She turned to the children. “Courage my children, we are in the hands of God. And it is not fear that will ensure our safety; on the contrary, God will bless our courage. Drive away all fear if you can and leave the care of your persons to God.”
Sarah shook her head. The words were too high for the little ones. But when she looked again, they all began to sit tall.
Little Moses peered at his mother. “God is our helper and shield.”
Anne nodded.
“He takes care of us,” quiet Elizabeth added.
Her mother agreed.
“Jesus loves us.” Sarah had never been so proud of Wee Joseph.
The battle continued for many hours, the sounds of the cannonade never letting up. Anne and Sarah still passed out the powder and ammunition.
About three-thirty in the afternoon, Anne pulled her aside. “We began with twelve pounds of powder. That seemed like so much at the time, but now we are getting lower into the barrel. Sarah, we must pray for God’s intervention, for I don’t think this powder will last more than three hours at this rate, and if the men slow in their firing, the enemy may guess we are low on supply. Pray with me now.”
Sarah clasped hands with Anne. “Almighty God, we have seen Thy hand of protection many times today in the midst of this battle. We give Thee our praise for Thy generosity and loving kindness. Thou knowest the state of our ammunition and stores. We pray Thee multiply it as Thou didst with the widow’s oil. Or if Thou wilt not, then remove our enemy from us as Thou didst for King Hezekiah. Thou knowest the plans Thou hast for us, to prosper us and to do good for us. We beseech Thee to be our shield and defense, our high tower, our Holy Provider once again. We bring this petition to Thy throne of grace in the name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Anne squeezed Sarah’s hands and she squeezed back. They continued making their rounds. They had only been to two rooms when she heard Jacques. “They retreat. Running for their ship. Praise God.”
Claude Bonnet, at the window of the room where she stopped to leave more supplies, leaned out and took aim. Someone fired from outside. The ricochet hit against the house before Monsieur Bonnet slumped to the floor. She cried out for Anne and rushed to him.
Bonnet struggled to sit and held his upper arm, blood dripping between his fingers.
“Let me look.” She pulled his hand away from the wound and used the end of her skirt to halt the flow.
Anne rushed in. “Is he…”
“The lead hit the fleshy part. There doesn’t seem to be any damage to the bone. But it is profusely bleeding.”
“James, Peter, come help.” Anne’s sons ran immediately to her. “Help carry Monsieur Bonnet to your room. You still have a mattress on your bed?”
“Yes, Mother.”
As the two women and two young men lifted the soldier, he protested.
Anne cut him off. “Monsieur, if you become faint, it would be harder to get you there. Please allow us to carry you.”
The man relented, and they put him in the bedroom across the hall.
“Peter, bring two bottles of wine from downstairs. James, please bring me my sewing basket. Monsieur, we will have you repaired in no time.”
James brought the wine and Anne gave one bottle to Bonnet. He drank it down quickly and, since none had eaten in many hours, the alcohol promptly helped him sleep.
Anne poured the second bottle of wine all over the wound as well as her needle and thread.
Sarah assisted as best she could, mainly doing as Anne directed. When done, the women cleaned up their makeshift surgery and left Bonnet to his dreams.
Downstairs, Jacques informed them that the corsair had weighed anchor and set sail. Everyone gathered around while Jacques led them in a prayer of thanksgiving after which Sarah and Anne fixed a quick meal.
By the time Sarah’s head hit the pillow that night, she had more for which to be thankful. Closing her eyes, she could still hear Jacques rushing in with the news.
“Sarah, praise God. We went to see what damage we incurred and perhaps get a better idea what we inflicted on the enemy.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Your house, Sarah, the whole of it. It is destroyed. Cannon shelling fell through the roof and knocked in walls. If God hadn’t warned me to bring you and the children here, I don’t know what would have happened.” Jacques pulled her into a fatherly embrace. “Praise God you were here. Praise God you and your children are safe.”
Curling up with Wee John in her arms, Sarah felt a blanket of peace settle over her. “Father, I do praise Ye and thank Ye for Yer loving kindness and protection. Yer teaching me more each day how Ye can protect against whatever happens. Yer my shield and defender, in Thee I put my trust.”
Kissing the baby’s head, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sir, might I interest ye in a paper? Only a ha’penny, sir. And all the news for the past weeks even from London and Derry.”
The waif appeared dirty and in need of a good meal. Joseph flipped him a sovereign and took the pages from the boy’s hand.
“Thank ye, sir. God bless ye, sir.”
Joseph merely nodded his head and walked down the street, all the news in the land tucked under his arm.
“Good afternoon, Master Crockett. A lovely day now, isn’t it?”
He nodded to the woman sweeping the steps in front of the house where he’d rented a room. “Good afternoon, Mistress Doyle.”
Taking the steps two at a time, he unlocked his door and tossed the paper on the bed. He removed his jacket and waistcoat before pulling off his boots. It had been a long, dismal day, no matter what Mistress Doyle thought. It could have been raining Noah’s flood, and she still would have thought it a grand day.
He stretched out on his bed and picked up the paper. It seemed Charles XII of Sweden hadn’t been satisfied to defeat the Russian army. He now had toppled Augustus of Poland from his throne.
Dublin’s high society read very much the same as London’s. Change a name or two, and the very same things went on.
He turned the page and his heart stopped cold.
Bravery of Bantry Bay Minister Sends Pirates out to Sea
Jacques’s name prominently displayed in the lead paragraph left little to the imagination. Pirates had attacked Bere Haven while he was gone.
He jumped out of bed and stepped on one of his boots. “Ow.” Hopping on the other foot, he found his waistcoat and jacket and threw them on. Then he leaned against the bed’s edge and pulled on his boots. In less than five minutes he had gathered all his belongings, paid Mrs. Doyle, and run out the door. Finding the first ship leaving toward Bantry Bay, he booked passage and climbed aboard.
The ship, the Maeve, would set sail in under an hour. If wishes would have moved her, he would’ve had the ship immediately to sea. He leaned against the rail and remembered the newspaper, now crumpled in his portmanteau. He dug it out and checked for the date.
According to the information, the attack happened eight days earlier.
Eight days.
He couldn’t help it. The words flowed from his heart. “Lord, keep my family safe.”
* * *
Joseph leapt to the dock the instant the ship moored. As it pulled into the harbor, he’d tried to see their house, but it was still too dark this early in the morning.
Running with every ounce of strength he had, he rounded the bend to home and pulled up short.
There was nothing left. Only rubble and splinters lay about where the house once stood, like some giant fist came down from the sky and smashed it as easily as a house of cards.
His mind gone blank, he stood frozen, rooted to the spot, staring at the rubble. Then one thought fought its way to his consciousness.
Sarah. He must find Sarah. He must find his family. Were they even alive?
He had to.
The tower house. In the blink of an eye, he was pounding and pounding at the Fontaine’s door. Jacques, in his nightshirt, opened.
Joseph pushed his way past. “Are they here? Where’s Sarah?”
Anne, still in her nightcap and gown, reassured. “She is safe, Joseph. They all are safe.”
Joseph’s whole body shook. He gaped at Jacques, silently pleading, afraid to speak.
“Yes, Joseph, they are here.”
He heard a rustle and turned.
A vision of Sarah, holding a candle, floated down the stairs toward him. Her lovely auburn hair tumbled loose and free. A wrapper tied about her slender waist. She set the candle down on the newel post and called his name.
“Joseph, we’re safe. We’re safe.”
He cut her off from speaking more as he pulled her into his arms, weeping, holding her tight, never wanting to let her go. He was a starving man, she was his nourishment. The whole trip from Dublin, he’d worried that he’d lost her. And when he saw the house, he feared the worst.
“Good night, dear boy.” Jacques patted his back and ushered Anne from the room.
Ever so slowly, Joseph allowed his hold on Sarah to relax. He stood in a fog of emotion. Her tears soaked into his shirt, raining on his heart. If he let go of her, he would be lost forever.
She turned in his arms and reached for the candle. He released all but her hand and let her lead him up the stairs. The touch of her fingers entwined in his generated an electric charge through his very being. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her smile melted his fear.
Once in the hall, she whispered in his ear, pointing to the door at the end of the hall. “Bridget sleeps in there with Wee Joseph and Anne’s Elizabeth.” They stopped before a different door. “Wee John is in here with me.” She led him into a bedroom. Wee John slept in the cradle in the corner.
She closed the door and set the candle on the bed stand. But he refused to let go even then. Her other hand gently cupped his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her open palm.
His desire for her outweighed his fear. Her wrapper hung loose now. His shaky fingers tenderly traced the curve of her face, remembering by touch the warmth of her skin. Wiping a tear from her cheek, he saw her for the first time in a very long while. He kissed her damp eyelids, her cheeks, her jawline, hearing the music of her moan. Weaving his fingers through her hair, he brought his mouth to hers.
The passion she returned left him without breath.
He closed his eyes and drank in her scent, her skin delectable, intoxicating, her hair, soft against his face.
When he opened his eyes, her fingers loosen the string at her neck. Her chemise softly slipped to the floor, forming a milky pool at her feet. As she trembled before him, he reached for her, wanting only her.
Scooping her into his arms, he laid her on the bed and blew out the candle.
* * *
The morning light brought with it the responsibilities and fears Joseph had endured their whole married life. Only now they were heightened.
He watched Sarah sleeping next to him. Her hair splayed against the pillows, her face relaxed and at peace.
And once again, terror gripped his heart in its vise. What had he done? What if she became pregnant and he lost her? O God, please don’t let her become pregnant. I don’t want to live without her. I begged You on the ship to keep my family safe and You did. Now I plead, Lord, please. Don’t take her from me. Don’t let her be pregnant. Please, Lord, let her live.
Her closeness brought more emotion than he could bear. He silently dressed. Wee John, in blissful slumber, lay curled in the cradle. Softly, he touched a kiss to his son’s hand before he slipped away.
Once outside the house, he felt more control—more like his old self. He took in a deep breath, and the scene of where their home once stood returned to him. Praying it would be less daunting in daylight, he strode in the direction of the burned-out rubble.
* * *
Sarah smiled before she was even fully awake. Joseph had returned home—her Joseph. Not the stranger she had been living with, or rather without. God answered another prayer. Joseph returned to Bere Haven and to her arms. Joseph, who loved her and found her desirable, Joseph who had made love to her like when they were first married. Her Joseph.
She rolled over to reach for him but found his side of the bed empty. Undaunted, Sarah breathed in his scent from the bedclothes, hugging his pillow. Yes, he really had come home. With her eyes closed, she remembered the look of love in his eyes, the feel of his touch.
Joseph had come home.
* * *
Joseph stood before his home, or what was left of it, wondering what to do. What could he do? If he rebuilt, there would be the same dangers. Shaking his head, he remembered all that had gone into building this home for Sarah and Wee Joseph. How Jacques and his sons, men from the village, and even many of the sailors, had all joined in to build her a proper house, not a cottage.
Jacques’s uneven tread came up behind him, but Joseph didn’t turn around.
“Shall we gather the men and start to work?”
“Not on this, I don’t think, Jacques. Not on this. The pirates will only come again. I can’t keep my family here.”
Jacques gave a fatherly embrace and stood at Joseph’s side. “I understand. Where do you plan to go?”
“I wish I knew.” All he could do was stare at the ruins he once called home. “Will you buy me out of the business?”
“If that is what you wish. Have you prayed about this, Joseph?”
He shook his head. “I prayed, truly prayed for the first time in years when I sailed here. I prayed God would protect Sarah and the boys. I haven’t let Him do the protecting. I haven’t been happy about His way of doing things. But that was all I could do, Jacques. Every day just beg God to keep her and the boys safe. I don’t know if I’m ready to ask for more at the moment.”
The friend became the minister. “I will pray for you. Come. Let’s walk away from this disaster. I believe my good wife has a hearty meal to break our fast, prepared and waiting.”
He let his friend guide him to the house. More than a meal waited for him there, and he longed to run to her as much as he knew he should run in the other direction.
Delicious aromas greeted them as they arrived back at the house. He held the door for Jacques, putting off the moment a little longer.
The dining table sat ready for the family. Bridget carried a platter of hot cakes and Sarah followed with a bowl of butter in hand and Wee John in her other arm.
“Would ye hold him for me? I need to help Anne in the kitchen.” She smiled, and handed the babe to him, letting her fingers linger in their touch. The sensation sent electricity through him, adding to his guilt.
Sarah returned to the other room while he adjusted the baby’s blanket. Something hard was wrapped in the bunching. Straightening out the folds revealed his father’s Huguenot Cross.
How?
“I got it out of yer room before we came here.” Sarah stood by his side, another dish in her hand. “I’d forgotten I pinned it to that blanket. I don’t think Wee John has even used that blanket the whole time we’ve been here. It’s always been a different one. I must have forgotten.”
He hadn’t thought beyond their safety. To have lost this pin would have hurt since he valued it more than any of his other possessions. “Thank you. I’d just assumed it was lost.”
He studied the pin again, and then he knew where they needed to go.
They would go to France.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Think of what you are saying, Joseph.” Jacques paced his office as if not content to sit behind the desk. “You are like a son to me. I know what it is like for Protestants there. Do you want to subject your family to that kind of prejudice?”
Jose
ph shook his head. “How many years ago was that, Jacques? The pirates are only a band of renegades, anyway. My father still has friends there, Jean-Luc de Turenne continues to correspond with him. And Albert de Grillet is back near Versailles.” He grasped for ideas to back up his choice. “The export business would be less stressful under the French flag, and my family would be protected away from the corsairs.”
“Is that what you think? The pirates are nothing compared to the dragoons. I have experienced them firsthand.” Joseph had seen Jacques’s fire and passion before, but never had it turn toward him. They had been friends and partners. This was not the way he wanted it to end.
“Jacques, you told me yourself you would pray that I would know where to go. Now I know, your prayer was answered. Will you buy me out?”
“I cannot change your mind?”
Joseph shook his head.
“Very well, I will buy you out, but let Sarah and the children stay with us until you have found them a home.”
“Agreed. That would be better.” He came around and hugged his friend. “Jacques, don’t worry. God is working this out. You said so yourself.” And perhaps he might start to believe it. God had protected Sarah and the children. Now if only she did not have to suffer for his weakness.
He closed his eyes and sent up one more prayer. “Now I need to tell Sarah.”
* * *
“You are leaving again? I dunna ken. Why Joseph? Why are you running away again?” Sarah had been so sure. Joseph had wanted her, and maybe that was the problem. “Ye do not trust yerself do ye? Ye’ve said all along ye didn’t trust God, but really ye don’t trust yerself.”
Joseph opened his mouth as if to speak and stopped. Turning away, he grabbed his portmanteau from the corner of their room. It had yet to be unpacked. “Sarah, we cannot stay at Bere Haven. I am only searching for a place for us to live. Jacques and Anne will let you stay here until I return.”
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 55