“Wright? What are you doing here?”
Galen rotated in a slow turn and stared into Montgomery’s face. “Major Montgomery.”
“I asked you a question. I heard you had defected to the Americans.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re spying for them, aren’t you?” He grabbed Galen’s arm. “You’re under arrest, Lieutenant.”
“No! I have been in the American camp spying for General Howe. I have important information for him.” Galen tried to pull his arm out of Montgomery’s grip.
“Likely story.” Montgomery sneered. “Do you think I would believe anything you told me? We shall see what the commander has to say of this.”
He propelled Galen through the camp to the commander’s tent, and an hour later Galen found himself tossed into the brig, a small windowless cabin with a dirt floor. Over the next few days, he cursed Montgomery heartily and vowed vengeance. But heavily guarded, there was no opportunity to escape. Within a week he was sailing down the Hudson in chains to face charges of treason. It might take weeks to get in touch with Howe.
Birch tried to put Hannah’s face from his mind. The hurt in her eyes when she’d told him good-bye had nearly broken his resolve. But she could have stopped him with a word. If she had told him she would marry him, he would have stayed at the lighthouse on the cliff with her and let Montgomery live. She had no one to blame but herself.
Her words kept echoing through his mind. “I cannot save you, my love. You must look to Jesus for that.” He pushed them away. He didn’t want to think about it. She was wrong. That power had been in her hands, but she had refused to exercise it. It was better this way. Once Montgomery was dead, he would be able to sleep at night.
New York City had not changed in the months he’d been gone. The busy streets and sidewalks were filled with people, many of them British. He would have to be careful. Too many people knew his face. If he was caught, he would hang.
He rented a room and positioned himself at the window to watch the comings and goings of the English troops. He was there nearly a week before he saw Montgomery. As irate as ever, the officer looked as though he had come from the war field. His uniform showed smears of mud, as did his boots.
Montgomery prodded forward another man in chains. Birch peered through the dirty glass. Was that Galen Wright? What was he doing in chains? Birch frowned. The man deserved it, but Lydia would be quite upset. He thought of Lydia’s fatherless baby boy. Should he try to save Galen? The thought stuck in his craw. There was no guarantee the man would even stand by Lydia now.
Over the next few days, Birch made his plans to capture Montgomery. He purchased a white wig and a larger British uniform, then went to the harbor and looked over the ships. He was shocked to see his Mermaid still floating in the tide. He had assumed she would be confiscated into the navy. Skirting the thugs guarding the harbor, he stole a dinghy and rowed out to the ship and climbed aboard. Though deserted, she appeared to be in fine condition. She was larger than what he’d had in mind, but he knew her well. With just a few crew members, he might be able to use her.
He went back to the quay and spent the next few nights hiring crew. Two of them were members of his original crew, including Riley, and they promised to find six more willing men who knew how to keep their mouths shut and were loyal to America. Now he just had to get Montgomery aboard.
The next morning he dressed in the uniform and stuffed padding inside. With the wig on he looked like a portly British colonel. Montgomery had only seen him once, and Birch thought he would not see through his disguise. He took a silver-tipped walking stick and affected a limp. Perfect.
He limped down the stairs and across the street. Entering the British offices, he approached the soldier on duty. “I wish to see Major Hugh Montgomery. Tell him Colonel Marsh wishes to see him.”
The soldier jumped up immediately. “Yes, sir.” He disappeared down a hall and came back just moments later. “Follow me, sir. The major is in.”
Keeping his face impassive, Birch limped after him.
Montgomery stood as he entered the room. He saluted. “Colonel, sir, I am at your disposal.”
“I won’t beat around the bush, Major. I have heard you captured a dangerous American spy single-handedly. Very impressive.”
Montgomery almost swelled with pride. “Yes, sir. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was up to no good. I had other dealings with him and knew he would betray us sooner or later.”
“Excellent. I have need of such a sharp man as you for a special assignment.”
Montgomery raised a brow. “Assignment? How may I help you, Colonel?”
“I need a man who is astute about matters such as these to take over the intelligence division in the South. I’ve already arranged for a fine home at one of the plantations in North Carolina for you. You’ll have every comfort while you organize the activities of our various spies and couriers. Think you can handle it?”
“Oh yes, sir!” Montgomery’s eyes were shining with excitement. “When do I leave?”
“I have a ship waiting in the harbor now. Gather your things and be aboard the Mermaid at six in the morning, where we shall discuss the particulars of your duties on the voyage. Glad to have you aboard my team, Major.” He turned to go but stopped at a call from Montgomery.
“Colonel, would it be permissible to bring the prisoner, Galen Wright? I wish to see to his punishment personally.”
Birch suppressed a grim smile. So he wasn’t the only one who sought revenge. How ironic. He hesitated a moment. Galen would surely see through his disguise, but by that time, it would be too late. “That would be fine, Major.” He nodded. “Until the morrow.”
He could see Montgomery practically rubbing his hands together. Limping out the door, Birch felt like doing the same thing. Would the man beg for mercy when he realized what awaited him? He hoped not. He hated a coward.
Birch collected his belongings and made his way to the harbor. He boarded the ship and checked to see that all was in readiness for the morrow. He couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong. This was his one and only chance to avenge his brother’s murder. The crew was all aboard and knew what they were to do. They seemed as eager for the confrontation as he.
The long night seemed endless as Birch waited for the morning. The cold November gale bit through his coat as he waited on the deck. Finally, he saw three figures hurrying up the gangway.
Another soldier had come along to guard Galen. Birch frowned. He didn’t want any more British soldiers aboard than necessary. But with eight of his own crew, surely one more soldier would be all right. He stepped farther back into the shadows. Galen mustn’t see his face until they were away from the harbor. Nothing must go wrong.
Riley, his first mate, greeted Montgomery. “Sir, welcome aboard. The colonel will be along shortly. Step away from the rail, and we’ll raise the gangplank for departure.”
Birch watched the men. Why wasn’t he more elated at the success of his plan? He felt dead inside, not joyous at the thought of his vengeance. What was wrong with him?
Let it go.
Shaking away the inner voice, he stared at Montgomery and remembered the butchery of his brother’s body. This man had done it, and he must pay.
The crew hoisted anchor and raised the small sail. Slowly, the ship glided away from shore. Only then did Birch step out of the shadows. He still wore the disguise and was curious to see how long it would take Galen to recognize him.
As soon as Galen set eyes on him, his eyes narrowed, then suddenly widened. He began to laugh. “Montgomery, you are a fool. This is no British colonel.”
Montgomery jerked around and stared at Birch, then back to Galen. “Shut up, traitor.” He cuffed him. “If you speak against your betters again, I shall throw you to the sharks.”
Galen growled and charged Montgomery, but the guard jerked his chain, and he fell to the deck. “Look at him again,” he growled. “’Tis Captain Birch Meredith whose head is wanted by the Crown for treason. He has
played you for a bloody fool.”
While Montgomery stared, Birch casually removed his wig and pulled the stuffing from the uniform. One of his crew plucked the weapons from the major and the guard. Montgomery’s face suffused with scarlet.
Birch grinned. “I have to admit it was easier to fool you than I expected.” He held up his flintlock pistol to check Montgomery’s charge. “You should not give me an excuse to shoot you too quickly, Major.”
Montgomery stopped and glared at him. “What is the meaning of this charade?”
“I should have thought it was obvious, Major. You are my prisoner.” Birch motioned to the stairs behind the British soldiers. “Let us go to the salon where I shall explain all this out of the wind.” He motioned for them to go first.
They filed down the steps into the captain’s salon, and Birch had them all sit down. “Do you remember asking me if I was related to any southern Merediths?”
The major frowned. “I remember.”
“What if I told you the answer was aye?”
Fear flashed into Montgomery’s eyes. “Frightened are you, Major? You have good reason to be.”
“What are you talking about?” Galen asked. “What does having relatives in the South have to do with anything?”
“Explain it to him, Major.” Birch propped a foot on a chair and stared at him.
Montgomery cut his gaze from side to side and wet his lips. “Ah, well . . .” He looked down at the floor.
Birch’s lip curled, contempt burning in his belly. “Ashamed, Major? Ashamed of your little fox chase? Ashamed that you hung a young boy of fifteen by his heels and slaughtered him as you would an animal?” He raised his voice. “I have waited for the best time to exact my vengeance all these years, Major, but the wait is over. You will die in the sea. The frigid waters will claim you, and as you struggle to stay afloat, you’ll have time to think about what you did to my brother!” He shouted the last word in Montgomery’s face, and he flinched.
“He was a spy!”
Birch thrust his face closer to Montgomery. “He was fifteen!”
Galen made a sound of disgust, and Birch whirled around to face him. “And you are no better, Wright. You used a sweet, innocent girl then discarded her when she became pregnant. Have you even wondered what has become of her? If you have a child?”
Galen ran his tongue over his lips. “Have I a child?”
“A fine son, whom you do not deserve.” He was full of rage at both men. Why could they not see where their actions had led them?
“Where are Lydia and the child?” Galen asked.
“You almost sound as if you care,” Birch said. “She is far from your reach. Hannah cares for her and the babe, and methinks she would kill you if you dared harm her sister again.”
Galen blanched. “Hannah knows it is my babe?”
“Of course. Did you think Lydia would hide it? The poor fool still pines for you.”
“I could wed her, give the child a name,” Galen muttered. “I had nothing to do with your brother. Kill Montgomery, by all means, but not me.”
What a coward. Birch felt a shaft of utter disdain for the man. What had Lydia ever seen in him? Still, if this poor excuse for a man would truly give the babe a name, Lydia might be able to weather the shame and have some sort of life. Right now the best she could hope for was a life of prostitution or the charity of her sister. “I might consider that offer,” he told Galen. No need to let him know he wouldn’t kill him anyway.
Hope brightened Galen’s dull eyes. “You know ’tis what Lydia wants. And the babe will need a father.”
Birch nodded with reluctance. “Now I must ask you to go to your cabins.” He indicated the lower hold and marched them down to the tiny cabins in the lower deck where he put them in separate cabins and locked them in.
Before he shut the door to Montgomery’s cabin, he stared at his hated enemy. “We set sail for Gurnet, Major, but you shall not live to see its shores.”
CHAPTER 29
Hannah expelled a weary sigh and trudged up the steps to the first light tower. Between keeping the lights and caring for Lydia and both babies, she was plumb worn out. She held her hands over the meager warmth of the wicks and rubbed them. Winter had come early this year. It was not yet December, and already ice chunks floated offshore. The first blizzard of the season had blown through last week, and ten-foot drifts covered the walls of her house. Her wool cloak did little to keep out the piercing cold.
She stared out over the black sea. Much as she wanted to sail away, she wouldn’t want to be out on a night like this. She shivered and went back to her tasks. The children would want feeding in a few hours, and she hoped to get some sleep before then. When she’d come out this morning at two, she’d checked on young John and found him sleeping peacefully. It must be nearly three now, and he was often up at five demanding his breakfast.
She sighed again at the thought of Lydia. She was pining. Hidden away in Hannah’s house lest the town elders see her and her babe, she talked incessantly of Galen. But then Lydia’s mind seemed to have no bearing in reality lately. She rambled as though Galen was coming back to her.
If Hannah heard that name once more, she would scream. She shook her head and went down the winding staircase. It did no good to argue with Lydia. Galen would never be less than perfect in her eyes.
Exiting the tower, she saw a shape flit past the side of the house. The moon caught golden hair. Lydia. Where was she going? Hannah hurried after her sister. Rounding the corner of the house, she saw the white flash of Lydia’s shift disappearing down the cliff path.
Her heart in her throat, Hannah hurried as fast as she dared through the snowdrifts. What was Lydia doing out in just her shift? Hannah glanced down to see where she was going, and a shaft of moonlight revealed bare footprints in the snow. No shoes!
Giving up all pretense of watching where she walked herself, she struggled through the snow. She had to find Lydia before she caught a cold. She almost appeared to be asleep.
At the top of the cliff, she scanned the windswept beach below and saw Lydia standing beside a patch of frozen marsh grass. Staring out to sea, the wind whipped her hair and shift straight back. She looked like the figurehead on a ship.
Should she call out to her? Hannah started down the path. What if she became startled or disoriented? She might run right into the icy waves and drown. No, she had best simply reach her sister and physically take her back to the house. They would be fortunate if Lydia didn’t come down with winter fever.
Lydia seemed not to hear her approach but just gazed out to sea. She didn’t seem to feel the cold or the wind. Standing like a statue, she didn’t so much as move her head. Hannah felt as though she moved through mud or quicksand. Her heart pounded with exertion and fear. Finally, she was close enough to touch her.
Hannah took Lydia’s arm in a firm grip. “Sister, you should be inside. Come, let me get you to bed.” She kept her voice gentle and turned Lydia away from the wind.
“Why is Galen not here?” Lydia’s voice was a haunted whisper. “He still loves me. I know he does, Hannah.”
The eyes that gazed into Hannah’s were not familiar. She could see no trace of the lighthearted girl who had come to stay with her nearly a year and a half year ago. “Of course, he does,” she said soothingly. “Come along, Lydia. You are like a block of ice.” She propelled her firmly back the way they’d come, but it was like propelling a rag doll. Lydia moved without resistance.
At the top of the cliff, Lydia paused and looked back out over the frigid sea. “I should like to walk into the ocean and let the waves carry me to Galen. Do you think they would know where to take me?” Her voice was faraway and almost singsong.
Terror gripped Hannah. “No, you must not, Lydia. Galen is not on the sea. He is fighting in the war, remember? You must not think of such things. Galen needs you to care for his child until he comes back from the war.” The mention of Galen calmed Lydia immediately, as Hannah had hop
ed, and she followed Hannah back to the house.
Once inside, she put her sister in a chair with a quilt around her and a hot brick at her feet. Lydia stared listlessly into the dancing flames. Finally her head bobbed, and she fell asleep in the chair. Hannah sank into the chair beside her and buried her face in her hands. What was she to do? How could she deal with this on top of the children and the lighthouse?
She was so very tired. She’d tried as hard as she knew to meet the needs of her loved ones, but she felt as though she’d failed. Birch had left her to carry out his retribution, and her sister had borne a bastard child and would likely be punished by the town elders once they heard of it. Neither of them had listened to her.
They have the right to choose, as you did.
The voice was in her heart, but it soothed her as much as if it had been audible. She was trying to take too much responsibility for those she loved. She couldn’t make them do right—they had to make their own decisions. Praying for them to seek God’s wisdom, she sat with her head bowed for a long time.
When young John’s thin, reedy cry came, she rose stiffly. She glanced at Lydia, hating to waken her, but the babe would need nursing. She went up the steps and picked up the baby. He already was beginning to look like his father. The same blue eyes and blond hair, the same chin and stubborn mouth. The image of Galen in a far more innocent time. They would need wisdom from God to raise this one to channel that stubbornness in the right ways.
She cuddled him, changed his nappy, and carried him to his mother. Lydia was already awake. Hannah was glad to see the bright light of awareness in her eyes.
“Why am I sleeping in the chair?” she asked Hannah.
“You do not remember awakening in the night?”
“No. And my feet hurt as though they’ve been burned.”
“Let me see.” Hannah handed her the baby and knelt to examine Lydia’s feet. They were fiery red, but she saw no evidence of frostbite. “I found you outside in your shift and bare feet about three this morning. Methinks you were walking in your sleep.” That was all she needed to know.
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