Then why were they being followed?
Lawyer perhaps? The news had come that morning that the admiralty court had certified his latest prize. Now it was simply a matter of public auction. Could one of the ship’s owners be fighting the court’s decision?
Amanda stumbled when Will stopped abruptly in front of a small coffee shop, “How about some refreshments?”
“Oh, thank heavens!” she said between dramatic gasps for air.
Will ignored her exaggerated attempts to needle him and directed her ahead of him into the shop.
He settled her at a small table and ordered coffee for her, a small beer for himself, and a plate of sandwiches, all the while keeping an eye out for the stranger.
He didn’t see the old man pass by the front of the shop, but Will sensed his presence. It was like knowing a ship sailed just beyond the horizon, but not being near enough to know whether it was friend or foe.
In all likelihood, their pursuer—if you could call him that—lurked in one of the dark alleys across the street, watching the coffee shop and waiting for them to exit the public place. Will would need to abandon Amanda in the relative safety of the shop while he confronted the man in the street.
He opened his mouth to give Amanda an excuse for leaving her by herself, when the bell over the door tinkled softly. The stranger stepped inside, his intent gaze on Amanda but ignoring Will.
The chatter in the coffee shop dimmed, and the background faded, until Will saw naught but the old man staring at Amanda. Beneath his coat, the muscles in Will’s shoulders clenched from his instinct to protect her.
Amanda looked up from her coffee and turned her head to see what had captured Will’s attention.
“Father!” she gasped.
In a flurry of satin skirts, she flew from her chair and into the old man’s arms, oblivious to the gawking of the establishment’s other patrons. Amanda embraced the older man with a familiarity that spoke volumes about her relationship with the stranger, and her affection for him.
Father.
But how could that be? Amanda and Neil had both told him, with utmost surety, that their father had died in the war more than two years ago. He hadn’t pressed for details, not wanting to open painful memories for either of them. Now, he wished he had. Perhaps they only assumed their father had died.
With a poorly funded Continental Army and harsh conditions, deserters were legion. But unless someone actually saw a man run during battle, it could be difficult to separate the deserters from the dead. Amanda might even have received word from his regiment. Will had heard of several cases where the military declared a man dead only for him to resurface some years later, often when he ran out of money. Had Amanda’s father somehow heard about her service aboard his ship and the small fortune she had amassed?
Amanda grasped her father’s gnarled hands and gazed into his weathered face, a face that featured eyes as watery his daughter’s.
Will cleared his throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Father,” said Amanda. “May I introduce you to Captain Stoakes. Captain, this is my father, Joseph Blakely.” She whispered his name as if saying it louder would jinx her good fortune, making her father disappear in a puff of smoke.
Mr. Blakely tore his gaze from his daughter. “Continental Navy, sir?”
“No, sir. Privateer.”
“Well, that is splendid.” Blakely grasped Will’s hand and pumped it with more enthusiasm than could be expected from the elderly. “I understand we owe a great debt to those who ply the seas and harass the damned English supply ships.” He turned to Amanda. “My apologies for my vulgar language, my dear. I’m afraid I have been with the army so long that my manners have become a bit rough.”
Amanda accepted her father’s apology with a demure smile, and Will coughed to cover his amusement. If her father could have heard her swearing at her skirts just a moment ago, he would have blushed!
Will invited Mr. Blakely to join them for coffee. He wasn’t ready to trust the man yet, and it wouldn’t hurt to question him while they took their refreshment. Besides, Amanda still held her father’s hand in an anchoring grip, and it didn’t look like she would be casting off anytime soon.
Over the next several minutes, Mr. Blakely wove a plausible tale of how he had been injured in battle. In the fit of a fever that lasted for days, he had been separated from his regiment. The fever had left him somewhat addled in the brain and unsure of which memories were real and which were a result of his illness.
He spent the next couple of years in an army convalescent home, of little use to anyone. He couldn’t go back to the army. They had no need for a soldier who didn’t quite have his wits about him. He couldn’t go home because he couldn’t recall where home was. It had been a stressful two years, seemingly forgotten by both the army and the family he wasn’t even sure he had.
Eventually, small flashes of memory became hazy recollections. Through murky images of events past, he recalled having a daughter and a son waiting for him. It took him several more weeks to recall the location of his farm, but once he did, neither Hell’s hounds nor the British could prevent him from returning.
Of course, when he got there, he found the farmhouse abandoned, the fields left fallow, the livestock gone. Not sure what to do, he took lodgings in Baltimore, the closest town of any size, and set about trying to uncover news of his children.
“Is Neil...” His voice trailed off.
Amanda squeezed the hand she still held, “Neil is well. He serves on Captain Stoakes’ ship.”
“Oh, that is wonderful news,” Mr. Blakely said, turning to Will.
Will nodded, noting that Amanda did not mention she also served on his ship. He chose not to share that bit of knowledge either. Until he could verify the man’s story, the less he knew, the better.
Blakely’s tale rang true, and he certainly seemed to believe it. Moreover, Will trusted his instincts, and he didn’t sense anything sinister about Amanda’s father.
The tension in Will’s shoulders eased. He would leave Amanda in her father’s company, while her took care of other matters.
“I wonder if the two of you might excuse me.” Will rose from his chair. “I have some things I need to attend to, and I’m sure you have much to talk about after being separated for so long. Shall I meet you back here in say, two hours?” He glanced at the gold watch he produced from the pocket of his waistcoat.
Amanda nodded before turning back to her father. He smiled the indulgent smile of a parent to a beloved child. She returned much the same smile. Will rolled his eyes and tucked his watch back in his pocket. He would not be missed.
Stepping onto the cobbled street, he considered where he might start his search for information on Mr. Joseph Blakely. If his claims were true, Amanda’s father would have been making inquiries. In a town like Baltimore, gossip traveled fast and nearly everyone would have heard the story by now.
He would check with one of his business contacts first. They might know of an army office with a record of Blakely and his stay in the convalescent home. Once he assured himself that Blakely had no hidden purpose, he had personal business to attend to. He had a necklace to purchase, and he planned to stop by the dressmaker’s himself and order an entire wardrobe for Amanda, whether she wanted it or not.
Will considered the possibility that Blakely’s sudden appearance changed matters. With her father alive, Amanda might prefer to live ashore, and her father would surely want a say in her choice of a husband. Although he claimed to owe a debt of gratitude to privateers, that did not mean he considered his daughter suitable payment. Still, he didn’t think it wise to give her over to the older man until he had verified his story. Despite his amiable manner and obvious affection for his daughter, something about Joseph Blakely didn’t sit right.
He waited for a carriage to rumble past, then crossed the cobbled street in the direction of the bank.
It didn’t take long for Blakely’s story to be confirmed. At the ban
k, Will even discovered acquaintances of Blakely’s from before the war who testified to his character, and the banker confirmed he was not without funds.
According to Mr. Timms, one of the first things Blakely did when he arrived in Baltimore was stop by the bank to review his accounts. He didn’t have a fortune, but frugality over the years had allowed him to set aside enough to keep his children fed and clothed until they were both adults.
The banker tugged thoughtfully at his moustache, then confirmed that Blakely had seemed genuinely surprised to find the funds he left for his children untouched. Describing Amanda and Neil’s father as “somewhat absent-minded,” Timms speculated that Mr. Blakely had forgotten to tell his children about the money.
Will could believe it. His impression of Blakely had been that of a “dreamer.” No wonder his children were so able to take care of themselves. They had probably been doing so for years.
Timms also shared that, upon discovering the accounts untouched, Blakely had become distraught, convinced his children would not have left the farm without first withdrawing funds unless something dreadful had happened to them.
Mr. Timms was delighted when Will told him Amanda and Neil had been found. The banker asked where they had been staying, but Will skirted the question, saying they had been with friends outside of Baltimore. The story bore some semblance of truth since both Neil and Amanda had many friends aboard ship, and one might consider the Atlantic Ocean to be outside Baltimore. More to the point, Will’s tale would protect Amanda’s reputation should she decide to take up residence with her father in Baltimore.
Thanking the banker, he left and headed down the street to the dress shop where he had purchased Amanda’s green satin gown. From the same saleswoman, he ordered a half-dozen gowns in a variety of hues he thought would complement Amanda’s fair complexion. He asked her to be sure she chose only the finest materials, and paid extra to ensure the dresses would be delivered to his ship by noon the next day.
He tossed a few more coins on the counter and, emphasizing that the gowns were for his sister, reminded her that he wished for dresses that were of a more modest design than the last one she had chosen. The saleswoman scooped up the coins and deposited them into the pocket of her tailor’s apron. With a grin so deep it left gouges in the powder on her cheeks, she declared she would take great care in choosing only designs he was sure to approve. Will concluded he had probably just wasted the extra money.
His time almost at an end, he stopped at the jewelers where he chose an emerald necklace with one stone surrounded by small diamonds suspended from a gold chain. It wasn’t elaborate, nor particularly expensive as emerald necklaces went, but it would suit Amanda perfectly. The green stone sparkled and changed hue when he angled it just right, reminding him of the way Amanda’s eyes smoldered and darkened when she lay in his hammock.
Mr. Johannson, the jeweler, assured Will that a “man of his stature” should choose stones that allowed his wife to show off her station in life.
The old man’s watery eyes shone like the gems in his case, leading Will to suspect the jeweler presumed the woman in question to be merely a mistress. Undoubtedly, he found the use of the term “wife” much more effective when selling the more expensive pieces. He didn’t bother to correct the man’s assumptions.
Jowls aquiver, the jeweler brought out several heavy pieces mounted on a black velvet frame. Taking Will’s lack of interest to mean he hadn’t found something “exquisite enough” for a “man of Captain Stoakes’ excellent tastes” he presented piece after piece, each more ornate and expensive than the last.
In the end, Will stood firm on his first choice, ending the man’s obsequious sales pitch by forcing money into his chubby hands.
Holding his purchase up to the light streaming through the shop window, the green emerald sparkled, this time reminding him of the way Amanda’s green eyes danced when she was excited. He vowed, if she wanted, he would buy her a more expensive piece, but somehow he couldn’t imagine his slender, delicate Amanda weighed down with a necklace that jangled when she walked.
Tucking his purchase into his pocket, he waved a cheery good-bye to the discouraged jeweler and left the shop. Whistling a sailor’s ditty, he set off down the street toward the coffee shop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What’s eating you?”
Will glanced up from his books to find Buck standing in his doorway, a familiar grin pasted across his angular jaw.
“Nothing.” Will returned his attention to the leather-bound ledger open in front of him and stared at the sea of figures. Most had a considerable number of zeros.
Will’s shoulders slumped when the door closed with a soft click a moment later.
“I knew it wasn’t nothing,” Buck said.
Startled, Will looked up. “I guess I should have dismissed you formally, but I thought you smart enough to take a hint.”
“Oh, I got the hint all right,” Buck examined a trimmed and buffed nail, “but barring a formal order, I pretty much do as I please.”
He took a seat in the chair across from Will and crossed one leg over the other. Placing his hand on his knee, he grinned and swung a booted foot while he waited for his friend to surrender.
In the face of Buck’s infectious grin and tenacious nature, Will had no choice. “Yes, I see that you do.”
“So, how about we stop the pretense, and you tell me what’s troubling you.”
“What makes you think something is troubling me?” Will ran his finger down a column of numbers.
“I stood in your doorway for ten minutes watching you stare at that ledger. During that entire time, you didn’t turn a page nor make a mark. However, you must have sighed a dozen times.” Buck gave him a meaningful look. “Now I know the ledger nearly as well as you do, and there’s nothing to sigh about in there. Therefore, I must conclude it has something to do with the man on deck with Amanda.”
There was no point in evading the issue or his best friend. Will closed the ledger and shoved it away. “Her father.”
“Ah…” Buck nodded. “That would explain why she’s hanging on the man as though he might run away if she loosens her grip. I understand he has been absent for a time.”
“Yes, but now he’s back.” Will placed his chin in one palm and drummed the fingers of his other hand against the leather bound book.
“How is that a problem?” Buck pinched a piece of lint from his knee and flicked it away.
“It’s not a problem.” Will ran his fingers along the gold embossed letters on the ledger’s bindings. “She’ll be leaving with him.”
Buck looked up. “She’ll be leaving?”
For once, Will couldn’t tell if Buck’s shock was real or feigned, but it didn’t matter. “Of course, she’ll be leaving. He’s her father.”
“Hmmm,” Buck looked thoughtful, “I don’t know that one necessarily follows the other. Neil told me Amanda is almost two and twenty. She is old enough to live without a father.”
Will rose and strode to the line of windows set high in the wall. While the captain’s quarters in a larger ship might have more windows than walls, in a small schooner built for speed, large windows were a luxury.
Still, the line of narrow glass let in a little light and allowed Will to look out over the wide expanse of the sea. On most days, it kept him from getting the sensation of being trapped inside a floating wooden coffin. Today, however, all he could see were the crowded, dirty docks of the Port of Baltimore. He couldn’t have felt more trapped had he been locked in irons in the ship’s hold.
“I can’t keep her aboard ship.” Will watched a gull tear pieces of flesh from a fish at the edge of the quay. Its scales glinted in the sunlight as the bird tugged.
“Why not?” Buck asked.
Will turned away from the carnage. “Because she’s a distraction for the men.”
“Your men?” Buck gave a sharp laugh. “Will, when’s the last time you’ve had a voyage where nobody dran
k themselves into oblivion?”
Will shrugged. “They have been unusually sober recently, haven’t they?”
“Well-behaved, too, I’d say. There have been no charges of disorderly conduct, no dismissals for neglecting one’s duties, and if I’m not mistaken, their language has been unusually polite, at least for men of their mark.”
Will laughed. Despite the words his crew had inadvertently taught Amanda, he had to admit their language had been tame for a pack of crusty old tars. He had even overheard the occasional please and thank you, something not often heard at sea.
“Have you seen them at the guns lately?” Buck asked.
Of course he had. His crew made steady progress, decreasing the time it took to load and fire successive rounds at an imaginary enemy.
“Don’t tell me she’s responsible for that too,” Will said.
“She bakes lemon cake for the team with the best time, but that’s not really why they work so hard. In battle, they’re even faster than they are in practice because she reminds them of what they fight for.”
“Some of them fight for nothing more than the money.”
Buck scoffed. “You can tell yourself that. Hell, they may even tell you that, but don’t believe for a moment that a woman like Amanda couldn’t melt the heart of even the most miserly among them.”
“Perhaps every ship should have a woman aboard,” Will grumbled, and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
Buck looked up at him, his eyes serious for once. “I’m not saying that, of course. Perhaps I’m not even suggesting she become a permanent member of the crew.” He rose from his seat. “All I am suggesting is that there is no hurry to be rid of her.”
“A privateer is a dangerous place to be.” Will’s tone dared his friend to dispute it.
“I can’t argue that, but land may not be much safer. The war isn’t going well, Will, and the British see us as traitors, not a legitimate enemy. You’ve heard the prison stories. Some of our former comrades seem to have lost their sense of honor. To them, a patriot is no better than a traitor.”
Caution to the Wind (American Heroes) Page 24
