The Captain of Her Heart

by Anita Stansfield

  * * * * *

   

  A meager hint of light showed in the predawn sky as the two longboats were lowered into the water. Captain Garret called off the orders and who was to go down, with himself on the list. But Captain Buckley was to stay with the ship. Ritcherd did Garret the courtesy of taking him to the cabin before his temper let loose.

  “I can’t find Kyrah if I stay with the ship,” he said angrily.

  “First things first, Buckley.”

  Ritcherd calmed down, realizing his anger would get him nowhere with Garret, who remained intently cool. “Is it really so bad that I just go ashore and make inquiries? I’ve got to start somewhere.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Ritch. This is not a good place for us to be showing up, so I’m taking the most experienced men to scout out the situation. I’ll let you go ashore when I know the situation better. I had every intention of making inquiries for you.”

  Ritcherd shook his head humbly. “I’m sorry, Garret. I . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just be patient,” he added with conviction. “We’ll not sail for England without Kyrah Payne . . . I promise.” He slapped Ritcherd on the shoulder and left the cabin.

  Ritcherd felt a surge of emotion to realize all that Garret had done for him. He had given Ritcherd more than any man ever had, with perhaps the exception of Stephen Payne. And he had to believe him when he said they would find Kyrah.

  Setting his emotion in check, Ritcherd went to the deck and watched the longboats rowing to shore. He noticed the albatross flying overhead, as it had been since they’d left Jamaica. The crew had all been surprised that it had stayed with them. The albatross was supposedly never seen in Atlantic waters this far north—which convinced Ritcherd all the more that luck was with them. He wasn’t one to be superstitious, but the sailor’s adage of the albatross suited him. And he liked having the bird nearby.

  It was long past dark that evening before the signal came from shore. Immediately Ritcherd knew something was wrong. The sailor at the mast shouted something he couldn’t discern, and the men on deck moved like scurrying mice at the appearance of a cat. The sails were raised, the anchor lifted, and the Phoenix moved seaward. Shadows moved across the beach, and Ritcherd easily picked out Garret, even from the distance. The longboats moved out from the rushes where they were hidden, and skidded across the water with haste until they caught up with the ship. The Phoenix kept moving while the longboats were lifted. A sigh of relief fell over the crew when Captain Garret came over the rail with every man accounted for.

  “What ’appened?” Ritcherd asked him.

  “Th’ war’s gone mad. We had th’ audacity t’ land in th’ ’eat of it. We’re sailin’ away from th’ ’igh battle points, and we’ll land where it’s not so dangerous. It might take a dozen tries t’ find a place where we can get rid o’ the goods, but . . .” He looked around at his entire crew, all watching him expectantly. “Well,” he grinned, “we’ve done it ’afore, ain’t we? It took ten tries last time. Let’s shoot for fourteen and go for th’ record.”

  The men dispersed to their posts. Captain Garret walked to his cabin with Ritcherd following silently behind. When they were alone, Garret turned to him and said, “Kyrah Payne was never there. That’s one down.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Connections,” he stated. “If she was there, she walked in, walked out, and didn’t eat or sleep while she was in town. I know she was never there.”

  Ritcherd’s immediate reaction was a downhearted stare at the floor. But Garret with his unbending optimism was quick to rejuvenate his hope. “We’ll find her.” He grinned. “How about a late-night fencing match to keep the wits sharp?”

  “After you.” Ritcherd bowed and motioned toward the door, grateful for a distraction. If they didn’t find Kyrah soon, he was going to lose his mind. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose anything more than that.

  The following morning, Garret tossed a small book onto Ritcherd’s bed just after he’d gotten out of it and pulled on his breeches.

  “What is this?” Ritcherd asked.

  “Surely you’ve heard of Thomas Paine.”

  “It sounds familiar,” Ritcherd said, “but . . .”

  “Well, in my opinion, Thomas Paine is an inspired and valorous man. His writings are at the heart of everything the Americans are fighting for.” He motioned toward the little book, and Ritcherd took note of its title: Common Sense.

  When Garret sat down and leaned his forearms on his thighs, Ritcherd knew there was something important he wanted to say. Ritcherd picked up the book and sat on the edge of his bed, facing Garret.

  “From what I understand,” Garret said, “Thomas Paine was a poor Englishman who had more or less failed at every occupation he’d attempted. He came to America, and this book was soon filtering all over the country. It would seem the concepts in it were the missing ingredient in what the American continental congress was trying to accomplish. They all had good ideas, however . . .”

  “Yes?” Ritcherd pressed when he hesitated.

  “Well,” Garret said, “in my opinion, the one concept the congress could not fully comprehend was that . . .” He hesitated again, as if to give emphasis to what he wanted to say. With deep fervor he finished, “That all men are created equal. You see, it takes a man who has seen the face of poverty, oppression, and . . . social imbalance . . .” Ritcherd sat up a little straighter, feeling a sensitive nerve prickled. “It takes a man like that to fully understand the need for equality . . . among all men. And that is something the wealthy representatives of the American colonies couldn’t see . . . until Thomas Paine gave them this. You see, the Americans could never succeed without the belief that their fight was by the people, and for the people . . . all of the people.”

  He motioned toward the book and Ritcherd thumbed through it, feeling both intrigued and a little apprehensive.

  “Read it,” Garret said as if it were an order. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Right after breakfast, Ritcherd started reading, expecting to find it a tedious endeavor that he might feel obligated to do in order to appease Garret. But he was quickly compelled by Paine’s writing and found his concepts stirring. There was something formless about his ideas and the way he presented them that seemed to speak to Ritcherd’s very soul—almost against his will. And by the time he finished reading Common Sense sometime the following day, he felt changed; irrevocably and wholly changed. Prior to this time, he’d been able to admit that he didn’t fully agree with England’s reasons for fighting the colonists. He’d been able to see that much of what the colonists were fighting for had merit. But he’d never imagined that what they believed in could be so . . . awakening. He couldn’t help imagining how life might have been for him and Kyrah if they had been born and raised in a country where all men—and women—were considered to be created equal. He was suddenly grateful for the opening of his mind on such matters, and glad to be contributing in some small way. With an entirely different perspective, he was proud to be the owner of a privateer, and hoped that he and Garret could continue to work as partners to aid the cause of the colonists.

  The evening after he’d finished the book, Ritcherd and Garret talked far into the night about its concepts. Ritcherd felt their friendship deepen as it became apparent that they were two men of the same mind in many matters. Once again, Ritcherd was glad for all he had learned and gained. If not for the horrible circumstances he knew Kyrah to be in, he could almost be glad he’d been forced to leave the narrow realm of his life, and to have found Garret’s friendship, with his insight and perception that continually amazed Ritcherd.

  But the full impact of Garret’s influence didn’t strike Ritcherd until his new friend brought forth a printed copy of a page that he slid across the table.

  “What is this?” Ritcherd asked.

  “It’s the Declaration of Independence,” Garret said. He added severely, “That is why King George sent you—an
d thousands of others like you—to war.”

  Ritcherd’s heart quickened at the irony even before Garret pointed to a paragraph near the beginning and said, “Read this; read it aloud.”

  Ritcherd cleared his throat and focused at the point of Garret’s finger. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed . . .”

  Ritcherd gasped aloud as the concept began to sink in, but it took a moment to absorb the full impact of what he’d just read. He met Garret’s eyes and felt certain he understood, even before he said, “In my opinion, Captain Buchanan, your search for Kyrah Payne, and your fight to live with her in peace and happiness, are merely manifestations of everything America stands for.”

  Ritcherd felt an incredible warmth envelope him, as if to verify the truth of what Garret had just said. He was left completely speechless, but somehow he knew Garret understood. How could he not, when he had managed to so perfectly voice what he was feeling?

  Ritcherd’s new insight concerning Garret’s cause made the weeks of carrying out their mission a little more bearable. The Phoenix landed and the longboats went ashore twelve times before they found the contacts and positioning that could see their goods delivered to the right people with the least risk. Each time Captain Buckley stayed with the ship, and Captain Garret returned with the same statement: Kyrah Payne was never here.

  “Don’t panic, my friend,” Garret added after the final try. “When the ship is free of the goods, we’ll go to a real port to get supplies, and you’ll be able to find out a lot more from there. At least we’re narrowing it down a bit, eh?”

  Garret then went on to explain to Ritcherd their plan for getting the goods ashore and added, “I’d like you with me.”

  “Really?” Ritcherd was pleased. “Why?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to feel some earth beneath your feet for a change?”

  “I would indeed. Is there another reason?”

  “I need a good man by my side who knows how to fight—if the need arises. You’re my first choice.”

  Their eyes met, and Ritcherd silently thanked God for sending a man like Garret into his life. If he had to be about this ridiculous business of finding the woman he loved, there was no man he’d rather have by his side.