“You have slaves aboard?” A slaver. He had supped with a slaver. He felt nauseated.
Gristol shook his head. “Not this trip.” He belched again. “That was a fine meal, Captain Meredith. It was a fortunate wind that blew us together.”
“I fear you will no longer think that in a few moments, Captain.” He drew his flintlock pistol from the hidden inner pocket of his coat and pointed it at the other man.
Gristol set his chair forward with a thump. “What is this, Meredith?” He started to stand, but Birch stopped him.
“Please remain seated, Captain. You are my prisoner, you and your ship.” He knew Gristol would need a few minutes to fully believe what had happened to him. Birch was in no hurry. The plan had worked so well he wanted to savor the success.
Gristol laughed. “My men will cut you to ribbons.” He idly picked a sliver of meat from between his teeth.
“You will order them to throw down their weapons.”
“You are mad, Meredith. Why would I do that?” He shook his head. “Captain, you are outgunned.”
“Look out the porthole.” Birch grinned.
Gristol sighed but did as he was told. Birch came up behind him and signaled to Riley. Moments later hidden doors dropped on the Mermaid and revealed the hidden cannon.
“Now we are going to go top deck, and you will order your men to lay down their arms.” Birch dug the gun into Gristol’s back.
“I think not, Meredith. Let us ask the men, shall we?”
“What we shall do is go up to the top deck, and if you do not do as I ask, I fear you will not like the consequences.” He drew his knife out of his other pocket. “Have you noticed the sharks following us?”
“Of course.” Gristol stared at the knife, and beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip.
“If you do not do as I say, exactly, I shall cut your leg and let the sharks have you.” He held his breath at the bluff. If Gristol didn’t believe him, he would have no choice but to try to fight his way out of the situation. He nodded at the porthole again. “Methinks I saw at least five shark fins yonder. Make your decision, Captain, or I shall do as I said.”
Gristol’s shoulders sagged. “Very well, Captain. You have outfoxed me.” He attempted a feeble smile. “Would you accept a bribe? Look in yonder chest. All that is yours if you take your pistol and get back in your boat.”
Birch shook his head. “Sorry, Captain. You may keep your gold. Now shall we go topside?”
Gristol shrugged. “I had to try, Meredith.” He picked up his hat and walked up the steps with Birch close behind him.
“I have my finger on the trigger, Gristol. Remember that.”
The captain hesitated at the top of the stairs, and Birch poked him with the pistol again. “Throw down your weapons, men,” he shouted with a surly glare at Birch. “We have been boarded.”
The sailors stared at Birch, consternation painting their faces. They started toward the two captains, but a sharp word from Captain Gristol stopped them. “I gave you a direct order. Throw down your weapons!” His face grew redder with each moment that passed.
Swords, pistols, knives, and muskets clattered onto the deck. “Very good,” Birch said. “Now step away from them, all of you. I want you down in the hold.”
The men looked at one another, then slowly filed to the steps and down into the hold. Birch pulled the door shut behind them and pulled a padlock out of his pocket. He slipped it over the latch and locked it.
Captain Gristol watched him balefully. “What do you intend to do with us?”
“We will sail to Boston and deliver you to the authorities there. You will spend the rest of the war in prison.” He bound Gristol’s hands and signaled his men to come aboard.
Within minutes his men swarmed over the railing and searched the ship for what cargo it carried. Riley strutted up to Birch with a grin.
Birch smiled and clapped him on the back. “Good thinking, Riley. We took the ship without firing a single shot.”
Riley preened. “I hoped not to have to fish you from the sea this day, Captain.”
“Captain, over here!”
Birch spun around at the call. His bosun, Richards, waved urgently from the stair to the hull where the enemy was confined. He waited to see if Birch was coming, then disappeared down the steps. Birch strode across the deck, then followed him. His men had herded the enemy into the tack room and confined them so the rest of the hold could be searched. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, then he hurried to the room where Richards stood waiting.
“What is it?” Richards wouldn’t have called him down here unless it was important. He glanced around as he moved to meet the bosun. The slaves had been kept here. The outer hold bristled with iron cuffs and leg irons. Nausea gripped his stomach at the stench of human misery.
“See for yourself, Cap’n.” Richards stepped aside so he could enter the cramped room.
On a cot lay a young woman, obviously part African, although her skin was fair enough to have passed for white. She was also obviously dead, though her body was still warm. Birch’s gaze traveled from her face to the bundle in her arms. A baby. The child moved restlessly and sucked on its fist. A pretty infant with dark, curly hair and fair skin. There was no obvious trace of African in the child, though Birch knew she must be the woman’s child. The father must have been white and diluted the African blood even further.
“Do you know anything of the mother?” For a moment the baby reminded him of his own brother. He had been the first one to hold Charles.
Richards shook his head. “Nor of the father. Perhaps it was one of the crew.”
Birch knelt and put his hand out. The baby opened its eyes and grasped his finger. The alert expression in the infant’s dark eyes and the firm grip on his finger told him this little one wanted to live. It was like a miracle to find this small scrap of life in the midst of war. He pressed his lips together. He must save this child somehow, though it would be hard to keep the child alive with the mother dead.
Birch pulled the dirty blanket back and looked the child over. A girl, obviously dirty and wet, but otherwise fine. He snatched a cleaner blanket from the other cot and wrapped the baby in it. Cradling her against his chest, he took her up on deck. He hadn’t held a baby since he was eight when he used to cart Charles around and was surprised he remembered how.
Gristol clenched his fists when he saw the burden Birch carried. “What are you doing with her? Where is Letitia?”
“If you are referring to her mother, she is dead.”
Gristol stared at him as if to see if he was telling the truth, then shrugged. “Just as well. I had tired of her anyway and would have sold her on my next trip south.”
Birch stared at the man with loathing. He was the father, obviously. “What about your daughter?”
Gristol shrugged again. “What about her? She would have gone with her mother. Do with her what you will.”
“You would have let her go into slavery?” Birch was sorry now he hadn’t had the hard heart necessary to pitch Gristol to the sharks.
“Of course. Letitia would have insisted on keeping her. The woman was wild about that baby. It made her quite tiresome.”
Birch turned away before he did something he would regret. He had never loathed a man as much as he did Gristol in that moment. The man had no conscience. Birch tightened his arms around the baby girl. Now Gristol had no claim on her. He didn’t deserve a fine daughter like this. Birch sent one of the crew to find cloth to cut up into nappies and another back to the cabin to see if there was clothing for the baby.
The men hoisted the yards and, with a stiff wind to their backs, set sail for Boston. Time was of the essence. They would make Boston by daybreak, and he would see if he could find a wet nurse. He managed to fasten a makeshift nappy on her and dressed her in the dirty gown the sailor found. She was fretful and hungry, but he dipped a cloth in sugar water and let her suck on it. It only pacified her momentarily, an
d she began to wail and suck on her fist.
He paced the deck with her over his shoulder and watched anxiously for the Boston harbor. The child’s wailing would make the trip even longer.
“Ye look like nursing a baby is a common occurrence for ye, Cap’n,” Riley said with a sly grin. “Have ye a wee one at home?”
Birch’s cheeks warmed and he shook his head. “I walked the floor with my brother Charles many times.” A lump grew in his throat at the memory of toting Charlie around the house. Mama had been ill after Charlie’s birth, and Birch had taken his brother under his wing. He flinched from the memory.
“Land ahoy!”
Birch’s head swiveled at the call from the lookout. Boston, at last. He didn’t know how much more of this crying he could bear. He handed the baby to Riley, who took her gingerly as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, then went to the bow and watched the land grow nearer. The ship rolled with the swells, and he braced his feet against the deck.
An hour later they dropped anchor and made their way down the gangway into the teeming city. Birch found a man who directed him to a woman he knew who just had a baby. He paid her well, and she disappeared into a back room with the infant. He would pick up the child later when the ship was ready to sail. He’d already decided what he would do with the little one. He would take her to Hannah.
CHAPTER 22
The newly whitewashed lighthouse gleamed in the May sunshine. Hannah was proud of her work. She’d been terrified the entire time she’d hung over the catwalk painting it, but now that it was finished, she could relax and enjoy it. She had managed to avoid Nathan for the past week, but he was coming late this afternoon, and she could delay the confrontation no longer. The thought of hurting him brought her no pleasure, but neither did continuing to refuse him. The time had come to end it.
“Hallo, at the lighthouse!”
She turned to see Stephen Brewster and Olive coming up the path from the big house. She smiled and waved. She hadn’t seen them for three days and relished the thought of their company. Stephen walked slowly and helped Olive over the stones and rough areas of the path.
Hannah suppressed a smile. Mayhap a romance was blooming there. She hoped so for Olive’s sake. Mother Thomas’s choice would not offer Olive much more than a proper station. The man obviously seemed to care for Olive by the way he held her arm and hovered over her so attentively.
Olive’s cheeks were pink, and she was out of breath when they reached the lighthouse. “You finished the painting without me.” A frown wrinkled her brow.
“I wanted to be done before the weather changed again. Besides, you are still recovering from your dunking.” Hannah directed a smile to Stephen. “You both seem to be well. Would you care for some tea?”
Stephen shook his head. “We stopped to see if we could persuade you to come to supper.”
“I would, but I am expecting Mr. Gray. Another time before you go.”
Olive’s face fell. “I so wanted you to be there, Hannah! We wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Know what?” But looking at their shining faces, she knew what they wanted to tell her. While she was happy for Olive, her heart sank at the thought of being alone and friendless again. Olive would go with Stephen.
“Olive has consented to become my wife,” Stephen said with a broad smile.
Hannah clapped her hands together and hugged Olive. “Methinks I knew before you said the words. Olive’s face was like the lighthouse beacon.”
The pink in Olive’s cheeks deepened. Happiness had made her almost pretty, and Hannah had to hug her again just from the sheer joy in her sister-in-law’s face. “When shall you be wed?”
“Next week. Stephen must get back to Boston and his business concerns there.”
“And try to untangle the details of this shipwreck,” Stephen added.
Next week. She would be alone again in a week. Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat and forced back tears. She would not let them see her sorrow. Nothing should mar their happiness this day. “We have much to do in seven days.”
“You must be my attendant,” Olive said. “You are the best friend I have ever had.”
“I would be honored if that is your wish. But methinks you should consult your mother. I have yet to be chastised for my public appearance in breeches. It may not be prudent for me to appear beside you.”
Olive waved a hand. “’Tis what Mother said as well, but we care nothing for their opinion. We shall be gone from here.” She smiled. “Stephen says we shall travel the world, Hannah. It is a dream come true for me.”
Hannah pushed away the stab of envy. It would be a dream come true for her too. Could that be one reason she could not accept Nathan? She knew he had no desire to travel beyond the confines of Gurnet.
“Come, Olive. We must get back. Your mother will be expecting us.” He bowed to Hannah, and she curtsied.
Olive hugged her. “If your plans change, join us tonight.”
“I will.” Hannah waved as they went back down the path.
Her life was about to change again, and not for the better. Her only confidant was leaving. Tears filled her eyes, and she let them fall this time. There was no one around to see. Loneliness would be her only companion.
She was being silly. She loved Olive and was happy she had found a suitable husband, but some days Hannah felt she would go mad if she didn’t get out of this place. She wanted to stand on a ship and smell the salty tang of the sea in her face, to hear the strange languages and see the different customs of a country not her own. But she needed to put such childish longings behind her.
She had some tea and biscuits for luncheon, then went back outside. It was too lovely a day to spend inside, though she had cleaning she could do. She took her spade and began to dig in her tiny garden plot behind the house. She could plant peas and beans here and let them grow up the trellis. When she looked out the kitchen window, she would be able to see them.
She worked steadily for a few minutes, then threw down the spade. Her heart just wasn’t in it. She didn’t know why she was so restless. Mayhap she should row to town and pick up supplies. That might calm her unsettled spirit.
She rounded the corner to fetch her shawl and ran into a tall figure. She tilted her head back and looked up into a sunburned face. Her mouth dropped. “Birch?”
“Why is your mouth open every time I see you?” he asked with a grin. “Have you not been watching for me?”
She wanted to fling herself into his arms, but she remembered their parting too well. She would not suffer that pain again. There was no future for them until Birch could put his bitterness behind him. “I was not sure I would ever see you again.” He carried a bundle, but Hannah could not see what it was.
“I was angry. But I find I cannot stay away, my Hannah.”
Joy flooded her heart at his admission. Mayhap God would reach him yet. “I missed you.”
“Did you pray for me?” His dark eyes probed her face.
“Daily.”
The bundle in his arms squeaked, and he looked down with a grin. “I have brought you a gift, Hannah.” He pulled back the blanket to reveal an exquisite child. Dark curls framed a round face with a little pointed chin. With rosebud lips and pink cheeks, the child looked as though it belonged in a fine knit wrap not a rough wool blanket.
“Oh,” she breathed. “How beautiful. Is it a boy or girl?” What did he mean, a gift? Did he intend to leave the child with her?
“A girl. Her mother died on board ship. If she has a name, I do not know it. You may call her whatever you like.”
She stared into his face. “You want me to keep her?” She longed to take the child and cuddle her close. Her childlessness had been a source of great heartache, but she couldn’t quite believe she would gain a daughter in such a way.
“She will need a wet nurse or you will have to hand-feed her. I will be at sea with no means to care for her. I knew you would not have me leave her for the buzz
ards.” His dark eyes never left her face.
Joy welled in her soul. Hannah held out her arms, and Birch placed the baby in them. She inhaled the sweetness of her. She took a small hand, and the baby’s fingers closed around hers. A fierce protectiveness and love welled up in her heart. This would be her daughter, her child. She kissed the petal-soft skin and cuddled her close.
Birch was watching her with an expression almost of pain. What was he thinking? Did he yearn for a home and family the way she did? His gaze caught and held hers. The love and hunger in his eyes took her breath away. She had to be strong. God wasn’t finished with him yet. She looked back down at the baby.
“Before you agree, there is one thing you must know.” Birch’s voice was sober.
Was the child his? The thought caused a stab of pain so sharp, she almost gasped with the fierceness of it.
“She is part African. I know she doesn’t look it, but ’tis something you should know now. Does that make a difference?”
Relief flooded her. The child was not his. She was shamed the thought had crossed her mind. “That matters not to me. I shall love her.” She gazed tenderly into the child’s face. “What shall I name her?” The words were more a question to herself than to Birch, but he answered it.
“I thought of calling her Charlotte after my brother Charles.” His tone was diffident, but there was no mistaking the longing in his voice.
“She looks like a Charlotte. ’Tis what we shall call her.” She stared up into his eyes again. “I’ll have to get supplies for her. It would be too difficult to find a wet nurse willing to come here for feedings. One of the farmers in town has a milk goat for sale.”
He nodded. “If you like, I will go with you now. I would like to buy the things she will need.” She started to protest, but he held up his hand. “She is mine too, Hannah. I want you to understand that. I shall return to see her.” He paused a moment. “And you.”
The last two words were so soft, she wasn’t entirely certain she heard them. But the burning glance he sent her warmed her heart. She nodded. “As you wish.”
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