The Saintly Buccaneer (8 page)

“You have a way with babies, Your Excellency,” the tall, bald man standing to one side commented. This was Daniel’s uncle, General Nathaniel Greene, one of Washington’s most trusted officers.

Washington raised his head at Greene’s statement, then looked back at the baby, saying with a wistful look in his gray eyes, “I love children.” He said no more, but Charity knew, as did the others, that the great sorrow of his life was his lack of sons.

It had been a shock to Charity when she had opened the door to find the general standing there that morning. He had
greeted her warmly by name and thanked her again for the supplies. She was not accustomed to the attention of famous men, and none was more famous than Washington. He was, she was amazed to find, a simple man. Though the richest man in America, yet he had laid his position and his fortune on the line for the cause of liberty. As he spoke with Nathan and Julie, Charity watched him intently and was taken off guard when he turned and faced her, saying, “I understand you’re a ship owner, Miss Alden.”

“Why—yes, sir. My people have always been sailors.”

He began asking her about the ship, about cargoes and speed, and she answered his steady flow of questions a little bewildered. Once she glanced at Daniel and saw a faint smile on his face, but she had no time to think of that.

Finally Washington paused and looked at her silently, with some of the same calculation in his eyes that she’d noted when he’d looked at the troops during the Christmas service. The room was silent save for the small whistle of a teakettle on the small hearth. Finally he spoke. “I am become a beggar, Miss Alden.”

“A beggar, Your Excellency?”

“Yes, a beggar.” A bitterness ran along the edge of the general’s thin lips, and he added curtly, “I must go with my hat in my hand to our Congress for the bare necessities of life for my poor men—”

“And often as not, they keep you waiting like some peasant!” Greene exploded. “It’s an outrage, sir, an outrage!”

“I am the servant of the Congress, General Greene,” Washington rebuked the older man gently, then fixed his eyes on Charity. “A ship is on its way from France with a hold full of supplies—cannon, powder, muskets, food—everything an army needs!”

“That’s Franklin’s work, I’d warrant!” Daniel exclaimed.

“Yes. He worked like a slave to get these supplies—and now it may all be wasted.” He stopped and looked straight into
Charity’s eyes, adding slowly, “Unless we can find a Patriot who will help us. A Patriot with a fast ship.”

It was all clear to Charity then, for she knew that the British fleet had sewn a tight web around the coast of America with the intent of strangling the flickering revolution by a blockade. It had been, she knew as well, a successful move, for the British Navy was paramount among the navies of the world. There had been no losses on the British side in single ship actions, so it was taken for granted that England’s fleet was invincible.

There was only one thing the general could mean, and Charity voiced it. “You want me to bring the supplies to our shores at Boston?”

“Yes. The French ship cannot be caught even
close
to our shores,” Washington nodded, pleased with her alertness. “The best we could do is arrange to send a ship to Port-au-Prince and transfer the supplies.”

“Why, we make that run several times a year, Your Excellency,” Charity replied, quickly analyzing the best routes and anticipating the dangers. “It would be no trick at all for
The Gallant Lady.
”

“If the British stop you,” Washington insisted with a warning shake of his heavy head, “your ship will be seized. You’ll lose her.”

Charity laughed at the idea. “Those wallowing hulks catch
my
ship? Not in a million years.”

Washington was still apprehensive. “The Army must have food, clothing, and weapons. I’ve made General Greene quartermaster. If you feel you can do this, work it out with him. We have little to offer you in the way of reward, but if the gratitude of one old soldier is of any value to you, Miss Alden, you will have my heartfelt thanks—and that of my men.”

For some reason, the simple words brought tears to Charity’s eyes, for she knew this man would die before asking anything for himself. She blinked the tears back and stated, “Sir, if my father will agree, we will get your supplies.” Then
she added as an afterthought, “And Father usually lets me have my own way.”

A laugh went up and Charity blushed, but the general nodded with a soft smile, saying just as he turned to go, “I believe, Miss Alden, that most of us men would let you have your own way. God bless you.”

Washington turned and left, followed closely by the two Greenes, and as soon as the door slammed shut, the baby set up a howl that stopped the moment Julie began to feed him. Nathan smiled at the pair. Turning to Charity, he asked, “Do you really think you might be able to get those supplies?”

“Don’t see why not. Like I told the general, no Britisher can catch the
Lady.
Besides, they’ll never suspect our cargo, because they’re used to seeing us make voyages in that area.”

Nathan grinned at her. “You sure are a better looking sailor than any I’ve ever laid eyes on, Charity.”

****

For three days Charity did little but ponder Washington’s words. She helped Julie with the baby, but that young woman made such an astonishing recovery that by the last day of the year, she was able to carry on without help.

All morning on the thirty-first, Charity walked around the camp, being greeted constantly by the soldiers who had come to recognize her. The sight of a woman was a rare thing, and more than once she had seen the ugly face of lust, but every soldier in the Continental Army knew with an iron certainty that the man who touched Charity Alden would hang in the cold wind the next day.

She stood and watched as Baron von Steuben, that strange import from Europe, drilled a picked squad on a hard-packed field of snow. He howled and wept and cursed in German, and the men laughed at him, and then he would laugh at himself. But Charity had heard Major Winslow say, “That fat Prussian has made soldiers out of them! They’ll never break and run again!”

During the afternoon, Charity walked along the perimeters of the camp, staring at the miserable huts and tattered tents, gazing from time to time into the hungry eyes of a sentry or some of the men on wood detail, wondering why they stayed.

The sun paled and seemed to cast no heat on the frozen ground as she finally returned late in the afternoon, weary from the overwhelming situation. A resolve had come to her, and the import of her decision brought no comfort, for she had seen neighbors and relatives who had paid a heavy price for throwing their strength into the battle for freedom.

Deep in thought as she walked, she was unaware of anyone until a shadow came across her path. Looking up, she saw that Dan Greene was standing patiently with his hands in his pockets. Something about his attitude told her he had been waiting for her.

“Getting dark, Miss Alden.”

She fell in beside him, and he spoke of casual things, but finally he stopped and she halted as well, looking up at him.

“Has thee made up thy mind?”

“Yes—but how’d you know?” she asked.

“Ah, now, that’s not been too hard.” He kicked the snow off one of his boots, lifted his eyes, and gave her that gentle smile so often seen in his strong features. “Thee has been walking around for three days now practically talking to thyself. But I know what thee is going to do, Charity.”

His use of her given name surprised and pleased her somehow, and she smiled up at him. “Oh, do you now, Dan? And what
am
I going to do?”

“Why, thee is going to get the supplies for the general,” he answered and laughed at her expression, adding, “And I am going with thee!”

“What!”

“Surely thee didn’t think the general would let thee go alone?”

“I don’t need any help!”

He stared at her, shaking his head. “Oh, there’s no doubt
thee would do it, but my uncle is the quartermaster of the Continental Army, and he’s assigned me to be liaison officer in this matter.”

It irked Charity to see the assurance in Greene’s face. She had made up her mind to go, but there had been nothing said about taking anyone along. She had spent years proving that she was as good a sailor as any man, and now it seemed that she had to prove it to the Continental Army. “Take you along? Are you a sailor? Can you skip up a foremast and set a top gallant? Can you navigate?”

He shrugged, ignoring her flash of anger, and admitted, “I’m no sailor, Charity. Matter of fact, the only time I ever got in a boat bigger than our little fishing skiff, I got so sick I couldn’t hold my head up. So thee will have to help me along—if I’m allowed to go, that is. And the general would really prefer to have a member of his staff along to negotiate with the captain of the French ship.”

His words soothed her ruffled emotions, and she laughed lightly and put her hand on his arm, hard as iron beneath her touch. “Well, maybe we’ll make a sailor out of you, Dan. Don’t know of any Quaker sailors, though.”

He put his hard, square hand over hers and there was a queer feeling in her as he murmured softly, “It’s a good thing thee is doing, Charity Alden—and God will bless thee for it.”

Her face flushed as he pressed her hand. He was a powerful man, his thick chest and broad shoulders making her feel almost unsubstantial. He had, she realized, a physical strength that was prodigious—but it was the spirit which flared out of his warm brown eyes that she had learned to admire.

Finally he released her hand and looked off into the distance. “Listen!” Far off some bells were ringing. Church bells, probably, but far away, heard only as a silver tinkling that floated across the white frozen world.

“Ringing out the old year,” he told her. Then he smiled. “And for thee, Charity Alden, the bells are ringing out a great
deal. Thee is leaving the old world—coming into something new.”

There was something almost prophetic in his deep voice, and a quick stab of fear ran through her. Her life had been fixed, and now she was moving out of it, into an unknown and uncertain time. She took a deep breath, and looking across Valley Forge, she whispered, “I think you’re right, Dan—but it’ll be all right.”

“So help us God!” he murmured as if in a benediction.

****

“What’s the date?”

Dan looked up at Charity, who had come below to the small cabin used by the first mate, and answered, “The fifteenth, isn’t it?” He rose and the top of his head almost brushed the low ceiling. He had almost beaten his brains out at first aboard the
Lady,
for the doors were just low enough to catch him right in the center of the forehead. “Look, I can’t make head nor tails of this awful stuff! Now what in the world does
this
mean?”

Charity looked down at the problem in navigation that he was wrestling with, and then shook her head. Taking the book from him, she tossed it on the small desk, saying, “You’ve not got the head to make a navigator—but you make a fine foretopman, Dan!”

“Never mind that!” He grimaced, then forced a grin, thinking of the only time he’d climbed to the top pinnacle of the mainmast. A wind had been rocking the ship at anchor, and he’d made it to the top, but when he looked down, he immediately got sick and froze to the spar. His grip was so powerful that none of the sailors had been able to break his grasp, so Charity had gone aloft and, after a time of soft talking, had persuaded him to turn loose. He’d followed her down and fallen to the deck instantly.

The crew had laughed, of course, but when the mild-mannered Quaker had refused to be offended, they had been
forced to like the man. He had, after all, proven himself to be the strongest man on board. Years of work on the farm had given his fingers a steel-trap grip; after he had put Stevens, the biggest man among the crew, on his back as if he had been a child, he had gotten along famously.

Greene had been accepted by William Alden almost at once. Charity’s father was not an educated man, but he had a wisdom that lies deep in seafaring men, and he saw the quality of the husky Quaker almost at once. This had surprised Charity considerably, for she knew her father made up his mind slowly. She was, however, not at all unaware of Daniel Greene’s ability to move among men—an ability she had observed as he gained the respect from the soldiers at Valley Forge.

Persuading her father to make the voyage had been simple. He had a slow-moving mind, but like a glacier, once in motion, he was difficult to stop. He blamed the British for his son’s death, and had cast about in his mind for some way to repay them. So when he heard it was Washington’s personal request, and was made to understand that the cargo would give the Continental Army what it needed to stand up to the hated English, he agreed at once.

The Gallant Lady
carried a crew of fourteen as a rule, but none of them were told of the mission—with the exception of Alden’s nephew, Thaddeus. Thad Alden was a young man of seventeen, the best sailor for his age out of Boston, many believed, and he was also part owner of the ship. His father had been Alden’s only brother, and it had been a blow when he had been lost off the coast of Africa on another ship.

Thaddeus had been stand-offish with Greene, which puzzled the officer, for the boy was characteristically friendly with all others. Greene had finally asked Charity, “Why doesn’t Thad like me?”

“Oh ...” Charity had become flustered, and her face turned pink. “He’s—he’s jealous of you, Dan.”

“Of me?”

“Well, not just
you.
He thinks—”

She could not finish and Greene smiled. “I see. The lad’s in love with thee. Well, it’d be surprising if he weren’t, Charity.”

The compliment disturbed her, and she’d flounced off, muttering about how silly men were, but Greene had looked at her with a new light of interest in his eyes.

Since that time there had been an air of constraint between them, but now as she peered out the only small window in the cabin, she seemed herself again. “Father wants us to go pick up the papers from the harbor master before setting sail, and there are a few more things to bring from the chandler’s shop. Want to come along?”