Langley's Choice

by Kate Dolan

  It was amazing. The sky was dark, and the sea was dark, but somehow they were different shades of dark. It was easy to see where the sky ended and the sea began. The round, full moon glowed high in the sky like a pearl set on a pillow of velvet. As Caroline watched, clusters of stars appeared to gradually grow into place. The moon and its light seemed very high and very far away, yet the light spread like a canopy, enclosing all the sea beneath its serene folds. Vast under the canopy of light, the sea was empty, save for the waves. And this ship, Caroline reminded herself, realizing that she and it were part of the picture.

  She had never seen anything so large as the sea or sky that night. True, she had looked at the sea and sky during her long day of drilling, but her mind had been too occupied with her own misery to consider the vast elements surrounding her new environment.

  It was breathtaking.

  Eventually, she began to notice other details. A soft breeze playfully ruffled her hair. The movement of the ship had a rhythmic sound, a steady creak that never quite went away. The air felt warm and pleasant, and despite the sea spray, Caroline felt much warmer than she had huddled in her damp hammock inside the ship. And certainly much happier.

  Could I stand here forever? she wondered. All thoughts of home, escape and even breakfast receded into the farthest corner of her mind.

  “G’morning, Dyer.”

  Caroline turned, her contented reverie broken by the appearance of a dark-skinned seaman. Muscles under the short sleeves of his rough shirt made him look powerful, much as she always expected sailors to be, even though he was a little short.

  “Hardey likes us to move places during watch, to keep us awake. You’re to move astern.” He motioned to the back of the ship.

  Did he say “astir” or “astern?” Caroline couldn’t be sure. There was no mistaking the gesture, however, so without a word—she was afraid her voice would betray her sex and so spoke as little as possible—she moved in the direction indicated, grabbing at the side every now and then as the ship rolled more aggressively.

  She wasn’t sure just how far “astir” she was supposed to go. She slowed as she approached two men, one of whom she recognized. He had been taken from the Falls Inn, and she may have even seen him somewhere near the plantation. Perhaps he was one of the smaller planters who visited her father to sell tobacco or place orders for goods from England through her father’s agents.

  “Aye, you’re a new one, too,” the other man, the “real” sailor, addressed her as she approached. She opened her mouth to reply then closed it and merely nodded her head.

  “I’ve been telling yer man here, and he didn’t know and you might not, either, that it’s strictly ‘no purchase, no pay’ on this ship. Ya got to know that and ya got to understand it. ‘No purchase, no pay.’ Every man has to work his damnedest or we don’t none of us get nothin’. Not even the cap’n!”

  Leaning into their faces to emphasize these last words, the seaman spun on his heel and walked several paces forward before taking his place silently at the rail.

  His words, apparently intended to illuminate matters for the new crewmen, only made them more confused.

  “What does he mean, ‘no purchase, no pay?’” asked the fellow captive from the Falls Inn. “I didn’t think we were to be buying anything on this ship. I thought we were chasing pirates.”

  Caroline broke her vow of silence. “I didn’t think we were to be paid anything. I thought we were slaves.”

  “As good as, anyway,” her companion agreed. “I’m Samuel Carpenter.” He held out his hand, and Caroline realized she was expected to shake it. Like another man.

  “I’m Jim Dyer,” she answered, trying to deepen her voice.

  “It’s funny,” Carpenter said, looking out at the dark water, “how quickly it all goes. I came over this water and worked my term and earned my land, my own land, my own plantation. And now, it’s gone.”

  “Where’s your place?” Caroline thought she overdid the gruff voice a little that time.

  “Near Hunting Ridge.”

  So, it was not particularly near Hill Crest. Where had she seen his face?

  “And you,” Carpenter continued, “what have you left behind?”

  “I, uh, work on the Carter plantation, Hill Crest. I’m new to it.”

  “Carter! Why, I worked at his sister’s plantation, Longacre. I saw Mr. Carter and his family on many occasions.”

  So, he had seen her, too! If he recognized her, though, he gave no sign. And she remembered now seeing him answer the door at Longacre. Her Aunt Bennett liked to keep a “manservant” in the house, though it was a tremendous extravagance when so many male workers were needed in the fields. For years, after every visit to her Aunt, Caroline remembered her mother would frequently entreat her father to purchase a manservant for Hill Crest.

  “When did you take your own place?” Caroline asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

  “This last year. The house is barely done. And I had hoped to be married soon.”

  And so had I. Caroline started feeling sorry for herself once again.

  “How many of us did they take, d’ye know?” her companion asked, after a pause.

  “I counted…” Oops! She used her normal voice! “Uh, about ten of us.”

  “D’ye know anyone else?”

  “Well, one face looked familiar,” she replied. Besides yours, she finished to herself. She probably shouldn’t have admitted to knowing anyone.

  “I think at least two of them were from that other ship,” her companion continued.

  Do seamen do this to each other frequently? Caroline wondered silently. “They’ve kept us all apart since yesterday morning,” she finally said, “so it’s been hard to tell, hasn’t it?” And just then she saw they were going to be separated again.

  “To your posts, men. Move along there, you.” A tall, gaunt figure with long scraggly hair gave Caroline a push toward the stern with rather more force than was strictly necessary. She hurried along to keep out of reach of a second push.

  She stopped at a spot that seemed about equidistant from Carpenter and the seamen stationed in the stern. The sea and sky still made a pretty spectacle, but it somehow didn’t seem as mesmerizing now. How long could she hide her identity? She wondered what she looked like as a sailor. Could she see any of her reflection in the water? No.

  Caroline looked out for a long time, not really seeing anything. Then, something started happening in the sky. Glimmers of color appeared at the horizon, changing even as she watched. Red, pink, orange, blue…the sky began to fill with color, lightening, brightening and—of course. The sun was rising.

  She had seen the sun rise before, certainly, but at home it simply seemed to peek through a heavy screen of trees. To see the full sun appear majestically over a clear horizon was something else entirely. Even the water seemed to change hues.

  I’ll burn as red as an Indian, Caroline thought suddenly. Her mother’s training, tucked away inside her head, flashed out a familiar warning: “Protect yourself from the sun.”

  Instead, however, she looked directly at the rising red orb as if trying to burn the impression into her eyelids.

  She needed to protect herself, all right. But she imagined that, for the time being, the sun would be the least of her problems.

  Chapter Six

  "So, it’s settled, then,” Charles was saying to the captain. “We leave in three days.” He stood up to shake hands.

  This was all happening too fast for Josiah.

  Charles had arranged passage on the Canary for himself and his future brother-in-law to the mouth of the bay. At Norfolk, he planned to hire a vessel of some sort to locate and rescue his sister. Charles had apparently assumed that, as her future husband, Josiah would wish to join the expedition.

  Josiah had wished no such thing. It was horrible to think that his bride-to-be had been taken, possibly by pirates. But he couldn’t just leave his plantation and sail off blindly in search of her. The ex
pedition could take years! His plantation needed tending; his finances needed strengthening. He could not afford to hire a ship, even a small one, to search the seven seas for this mysterious pirate ship.

  And how would they deal with these brigands, even if they did find them? He had no training in a soldier’s arts and neither, he presumed, had Charles. It was best to leave such matters to the professionals. The queen’s navy was trained to chase pirates; he and Charles should send word to the Admiralty through proper channels and request that Her Majesty’s navy undertake the rescue of Miss Carter. And the others who had been taken, of course.

  These thoughts, the only proper course of action, boiled in Josiah’s mind as he and Charles carefully made their way out of the master’s cabin and through the rather treacherous innards of the ship. Charles’s plan seemed more ludicrous with each step they took. Hire a ship, indeed! Why, the passage to Norfolk alone was costing them nine hundred pounds of tobacco. He was very nearly in debt, especially now with his latest order of goods from England. It was impossible. What business had two planters chasing lawless seamen across the water?

  As if to accentuate these difficulties, Josiah lost his footing while climbing the ladder to the deck and slipped, bruising his chin and arm. Madness! He did not belong on a ship.

  Josiah imagined the best way to put a request to the Lords of the Admiralty concerning Miss Carter’s abduction by pirates would be to contact the local Customs agents at Elkridge Landing. Word of the incident would then spread, of course, putting her family to a great deal of shame and embarrassment. But it couldn’t be helped. The secret could only be kept so long, anyway.

  This afternoon he really needed to inspect the leaves in the lower hundred acres. This area had been planted first and should be ready to cut and hang to cure soon, if Josiah’s calculations were correct. He had tried to adjust his estimates to factor in the recent lack of rain, but it was difficult to be certain, particularly in his first year.

  Josiah realized Charles was saying something to him as they walked toward the business establishments of the Landing.

  “I’d like to get off sooner, of course, but Captain Johnson says he needs three full days to get all of the lumber and provisions on board, and I do trust in his judgment.”

  Josiah didn’t trust his judgment. He didn’t trust anything about the man. Nine hundred pounds of tobacco for a passage to the mouth of the bay! No wonder he had offered to help Charles. He was making a killing off them.

  “And the three days should give us plenty of time to get affairs in order before we depart. This could take some time, you know.” Charles spoke as if he were referring to the necessity of sitting through a slightly longer than average sermon on Sunday morning. He had no idea what he was getting into. And Josiah meant to ensure he was not dragged along on this disastrous misadventure.

  He stopped walking.

  “Mr. Carter.” The intensity in Josiah’s words caused Charles to turn with a puzzled look. Josiah tried to make his voice less anxious as he continued. “I…don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Do you think we should try to leave sooner? If we took a boat down to Annapolis we might sooner find passage to Norfolk, but I’m not sure it’s very likely.”

  “No…” Josiah found the words slow in coming, despite his resolve. “I don’t believe we should…we should just run off in a ship like a couple of cavaliers.” To his great surprise, Josiah found that his words sobered Charles immediately.

  “I confess I did not stop to seek counsel on my plan. I was so certain, though, it seemed the only thing to do.”

  “Counsel, yes. Let’s go speak with your father and seek out those with authority to speak to the Admiralty.”

  Charles wore a distant look in his eyes. “Will you excuse me for a moment, Mr. Throckmorton?” He turned and disappeared into a clump of trees before Josiah could answer.

  Now what was he supposed to do? He could return to speak to John Carter at Hill Crest, or he could return to his own plantation, a prospect that grew more and more appealing as the minutes passed and Charles failed to reappear. He had business to attend to. Surely Carter or his son could contact the authorities without his help?

  Still, Josiah decided to wait a while longer, since Charles had implied his absence would be of short duration. He paced back and forth in the dust, staring at the uneven clapboards on the small warehouse building in front of him.

  “I am at peace now, Mr. Throckmorton.” Charles’s sudden reappearance startled Josiah once again. “I’m sure we are in the right.”

  “Mr. Carter?”

  “Our plan to hire a vessel at Norfolk—it is the right way,” Charles continued.

  Our plan? Josiah grew alarmed. “But…but we were going to seek counsel, to talk to the authorities…”

  “You were right, dear sir, about the need for counsel. And now I am confirmed and our mission cannot fail.”

  “You are confirmed?” This was crazy. Charles had walked off into the woods. With whom could he have spoken?

  “Yes. In my prayers, I entreated the Lord to guide us in our search, to show us his will for the rescue.”

  Josiah looked at him incredulously.

  “I closed my eyes and soon felt a deep sense of peace. I saw a vision of clouds and then a ship sailing the ocean, and far off in the distance, another sail on the horizon. And I knew.”

  Josiah still stared.

  “We are proceeding just as the Lord has planned.”

  That was it? Charles had gone into the woods, talked to God and had a vision of a ship? And just like that he was ready to risk both of their lives—and their fortunes—on a foolhardy rescue attempt?

  “Mr. Carter…” Josiah thought frantically. How was he going to stop this? “Certainly, we must speak with your father first?”

  “We must, certainly,” Charles agreed.

  They headed down the hill toward the skiff that would take them back to Hill Crest. Surely, the boy’s father would see reason.

  “It seems the only logical course of action,” John Carter sighed as he turned to his writing desk. Josiah and Charles watched silently as the elder Carter pulled forth a sheet of creamy white paper and sharpened the point on the quill pen nearest to his reach. As though they had never seen the writing process before, the younger men simply continued to watch while he removed the stopper from a jar of ink, dipped his pen and scratched several lines onto the new sheet of paper. After he had sanded the page, he folded it into thirds and rang for Grimble.

  This can’t be happening, thought Josiah. They were headed on a madman’s chase that was liable to be the ruin of both families. He had expected John Carter to dispute his son’s rash plan, or at least to question him closely, thus giving Josiah the opportunity to point out some of the plan’s obvious flaws. But Carter had merely listened and agreed, as though he trusted his foolish son implicitly.

  Charles eventually stood, walked over to a large framed map that decorated the south wall of the room and began studying the features of the Chesapeake Bay and the coast of the Americas.

  Grimble arrived and was sent to fetch a lighted candle to melt the sealing wax.

  After the servant had closed the door, Carter turned back to face Josiah and Charles. “I’ve written a letter of credit to be drawn against my account with our London agent. The name is well known—you should be able to draw funds when you reach Norfolk.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Charles answered.

  “Now, it’s growing late. I know Mr. Throckmorton must have needs to attend back at Hanset. You both have a great deal to do to prepare for your departure.”

  Gradually, the group moved toward the front door, and Grimble seemed to appear from nowhere to hold it open. As he reached the door, too full of dismay to utter another word, Josiah felt a hand on his arm.

  “Thank you, Mr. Throckmorton.” Carter’s voice cracked as the strain of the day’s events finally took its toll. “For your help with my daughter’s…predicamen
t.” He gave what was no doubt supposed to be a reassuring smile, but tears showed in the corners of his eyes.

  Josiah said nothing as he left, afraid that any words might bring tears to his own eyes—tears of frustration and rage at his own inaction. Why had he failed to object to this plan? He had good reason to object. It must have been fear—or rather, unwillingness to appear a coward, though his own plan made more sense.

  He had to admit waiting for action from the Lords of the Admiralty could take years, and with so few ships patrolling the waters of the American colonies, the chances of one of them finding Miss Carter were next to none. By the time they found her, she might well be dead—or worse.

  But what could he do? He was not a hunter, and though a fighter at times, he was trained to fight with words, dodging verbal feints with the intricacies of legal machinations. And lately, it seemed that when his own interests were involved he couldn’t even manage to string together a coherent sentence. God help him! If he lacked the power to refuse to join the Carter family on their risky adventure, how was he to stand up to a crew of pirates brandishing pistols and knives?

  Josiah pulled the covers over his head to block out the first rays of light shining through his bedroom’s single window. An open window allowed cooler air in during the night—on the nights when there was cooler air—but with the shutters open, the sun was an early visitor.

  Josiah understood that many in agricultural society, both here and home in England, adjusted their days to the sun. They rose together and often ended the day together. He found this habit thoroughly distasteful. He was accustomed to rising no earlier than eight o’clock, and while in London had maintained a regular schedule with his morning toilet, breakfast and work. The schedule varied little and had nothing to do with when the sun was shining or whether it was shining at all—which, in London, it frequently was not.

  Here, people often rose so early he was likely to have callers while in the middle of his toilet. He nevertheless refused to adjust his schedule. To rise with the sun seemed so…uncivilized, and frankly, uncomfortable.