Ransome's Quest (38 page)

“Has Charlotte returned?”

He shifted his weight and leaned over her to brace his arm on her other side. “Not yet. But
Audacious
is a good distance from us. And if I know Charlotte, she is going around to say goodbye to everyone on the ship.”

“William…what day is today?” She traced his jaw with her fingers.

“Sunday.”

“You did not lead prayers this morning.”

“I held a brief service before the noon meal, while you were sleeping.” He captured her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “The Scripture from the New Testament was the story of the prodigal son.”

“Any word from Dr. Hawthorne on how the boy fared surgery?” She twined her fingers through this.

“He survived the procedure. Dr. Hawthorne says that now only time will determine if Kent recovers.” On the floor or not, William did not want this time to end.

Julia rolled her head from side to side, causing her unbound hair to fan out into more of a riot of curls. “Where is James?”

“On deck. He said he had his fill of dark rooms, that sunlight and wind would be better restoratives than any of the doctor’s cures.”

She raised her gaze to the ceiling. “It was so dark in that little place. There were times I despaired of ever seeing the sun or the blue of the sky again. But then Shaw would send for me to taunt me, to play his games, and I actually found myself longing for the solitude and protection that the darkness provided.” A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and down into her hair. “William, will I ever be able to forget? How do you live with the memories of the battles, of the lives you’ve taken, of the men you’ve seen die?”

He set them aside, knowing he did his duty for king and country. “Whenever one of those bad memories comes, it helps if you stop it and replace it with a good memory.”

“I don’t know if I can.” She let go of his hand and reached up to wipe away another tear before it could fall.

“Let me see if I can help.” He leaned forward and kissed her.

She was smiling a bit dazedly when he raised his head. “I like that kind of good memory.”

He spent a few minutes making more good memories with her until his own back and sides started hurting from his awkward position. She had the audacity to laugh at him—which made her side hurt worse again. He stood and stretched and then resumed his place by her side.

She took several shallow breaths until her pain eased. “If we are so infirmed at thirty and five-and-thirty, I do not want to imagine what we will be like in our sixties.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “We shall be even more in love than we are today.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you more today than I did yesterday, and more then than the day before.”

“Do you think we will have children?” Julia’s right hand moved to her abdomen.

“Of course we will. I have already told you I expect a full complement of lieutenants for a seventy-four.” He rested his hand atop hers where someday, soon he hoped, their child might grow.

“What if I am like Susan and cannot bear children?”

“But Susan is with child.”

Worry clouded her green eyes. “Or was when we left. It has been two months. She has had so many miscarriages. I pray this will be the child they have so yearned for.”

Julia’s mention of their friends brought back to the forefront of William’s mind something he had been mulling over for the past week, ever since having to leave her at Tierra Dulce, not knowing if she was safe and then learning she hadn’t been.

“I am going to resign my commission.”

Julia started to laugh, but it ended quickly with a moan. “No, you are not. You cannot be that anxious to have children.”

“That is not—I do not want to leave your side, Julia. It is not safe. I will not be able to leave you again, knowing what happened this time.” He wanted her to stop smiling, to understand his sincerity.

She rested her hand on his cheek, rubbing the side of his nose with her thumb. “William, you have dispatched the only threat to me. And you know as well as I do that after five weeks on land in Portsmouth, you would have traded everything you have to be back at sea. And that was when you still had the fraternity of naval officers. You would be miserable at Tierra Dulce. There is nothing for you to do there.”

He tried to muster offense at the suggestion he could not be of use at the plantation. “I worry too much.”

“You worry too much, but I love you for it.”

“You lie.”

She grinned, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. “I do love you.”

“Aye, madam, you do.” He kissed her. “And now I must go see what is keeping Charlotte from reporting as ordered.” He pushed himself up from the floor—not as easy a task as when he was younger. “Shall I send Dawling to you?”

“No, but thank you for the kind offer.”

He laughed and shrugged into his coat and grabbed his hat from the table. At the door he turned and took one last look at his wife, spread out on the floor. “I love you.”

“Aye, sir, you do.”

Declan crowed with laughter. “You should have heard them pounding on the doors. That didn’t last long, though, before all went quiet.”

First he flirted with her, and then he came up with a scheme to get her alone with her new husband. Michael shook his head. “Did you have everyone aboard in on this plot to give Captain and Mrs. Cochrane a little private time?”

“Just the officers. And the steward. And the sailing master. Oh, and the marine sergeant and the guard at the door. I think that was all.” Declan looked down and started counting on his fingers as if each were a person. “Yes, I do believe that was all.”

“How will they get out?”

“Aw, the steward knew to go undo the bolts after an hour, but he’s under strict orders not to disturb them.”

“Sometimes, I have to wonder…” Michael leaned over the bulwark.

The sailor hanging from the swing waved his paint brush. “All finished, Cap’n.”

“Well done.” He hoped the man had spelled it correctly.

“How much longer are we staying here, Cap’n?” Declan leaned against the balustrade.

“I believe you and
Serenity
should be able to leave as soon as Commodore Ransome gives permission.” Michael checked his pocket watch. A quarter past four. Even if the newly dubbed
Serenity
left now,
Alexandra
and
Audacious
would never make it out of the bay before sunset, and navigating the narrow strait at the mouth of the bay in anything but full daylight was sheer folly. And because he would be aboard one of those ships himself, he did not look forward to such a risk.

“Where’s Picaro, Cap’n?”

“He went on to Kingston with the prize crew aboard
Sister Elizabeth.
Commodore Ransome’s lieutenant had orders to let Picaro leave as soon as they dock. He never was happy doing things the way we did them. I only hope he does not get involved in something more sinister just to feed his desire for money.” Michael braced himself against the gunwale and assisted the carpenter’s mate up and over onto the deck.

Michael moved forward on the quarterdeck as the sailor cleared block and tackle and the swing.

“You’ll have a lot of recruiting to do in a short time. Commodore Ransome said Lieutenant O’Rourke is a good judge of character, so listen to him. But you’ll have Lau, Suresh, and Jean Baptiste to help you once you get underway.”

“Not me, sir.” Jean Baptiste stepped out from behind the wheel.

“What’s that?” Michael stopped and faced the best sailing master he had ever served with.

“I’m not going with you back to America. It isn’t safe for me there.” He ran his hand over his head, beaded with sweat under the hot sun.

“But Philadelphia is in the north. There’s no slavery there. And the Declans are abolitionists. They are happy to have you work for the company.” Michael looked at Declan for support.

“My father was excited when he learned your story—that you’d run away from New Orleans to escape being made a slave only to find yourself sailing on a ship that went around liberating slave ships. He’s probably already set up speaking engagements for you so you can tell your story of how you escaped New Orleans in the middle of the night in a sugar barrel—”

“That is a falsehood. I rode out of town in the middle of the morning on my horse. I did have help from some of Jean Lafitte’s men and took refuge with them in the bayous while I let my trail grow cold. I learned how to sail and navigate by making my way through those swamps. I’ll never forget what they did for me.”

“Yes,” said Declan, pounding his meaty fist into Jean Baptiste’s shoulder. The smaller sailing master staggered back a step. “That’s exactly the kind of story that the abolitionist societies love to hear. Adventure, pirates, escaping the slavers—”

“I’m still not going.” The set of his expression meant there would be no arguing with him.

“But why?” There had to be more to it that the slavery issue.

“It gets cold in Philadelphia. Snows.”

Declan nodded enthusiastically. “That first snow of winter, when it covers the ground and gets about knee-deep, is the best sledding snow.”

Jean Baptiste shook his head. “I don’t like the cold. Not even Louisiana kind of cold. Here’s where I’m meant to be. In the tropics.” He ran his hand along one of the wheel cogs. “I’ll sail her back to Kingston for you, but that’s my last stop.”

As long as she stood very still, it was almost as good as lying on the floor.

Or, as Dr. Hawthorne had recommended, being still, exerting herself as little as possible, would help her heal faster than anything. William had laughed and said it was a good thing she’d be stuck on his ship for a few days, then.

William. Her heart filled near to bursting with love for him. She was not quite certain how it worked, but she was happy God knew from the time they were children that she and William were supposed to be together.

She jumped at a knock on the door, but the flash of pain was bearable. Or not unbearable, anyway. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Commodore, a visitor to see you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Dawling.” She turned, ready to welcome Michael to
Alexandra,
but she drew another quick breath at the sight of a black man with shaved head and hawklike features.

“Says he’s Mr. Buh-
teest
.” Dawling lingered at the door.

“Thank you, Dawling. That will be all.”

“Missus, I think I should stay.” The steward kept his eyes trained on Michael’s sailing master.

“It’s all right, Dawling. I will call if I need anything.”

He didn’t look at all happy about it, but Dawling capitulated and left the room. If she knew him at all, he kept his hand on the doorknob and his ear pressed to the jamb.

“Do sit down, Mr. Baptiste.” She motioned him to one of the chairs at William’s worktable.

“No, ma’am. I won’t stay long.”

Good, because that meant she did not have to try to be polite and sit down also. “What can I do for you?”

“I would like to come work for you, Mrs. Ransome.”

A preacher turned pirate wanted to work for her? “What do you mean, Mr. Baptiste?”

“At the plantation. Salvador—your brother, ma’am—told me all about how you and he worked together to free the slaves at your plantation. And every time we went back so he could check on you, I saw how things were there. People were happy. They have good lives.” He stood so still, he could have been an exquisitely carved piece of ebony wood.