“What you mean is, you got my letter.”
“Well, that too,” Agreen chuckled. “So what brings you up here, my friend? To offer me a king’s ransom t’ quit my employ and join yours, so I can fish up there on deck with your crew?”
“Nothing quite so glamorous, Agee.” Richard motioned to the settee. “Have a seat. We have some catching up to do.”
The time invested in catching up was brief. After a few minutes, Richard said, “We can talk more about this over supper. You can stay aboard?” Agreen nodded. “Excellent. Now, Agee, here’s the situation. Falcon was launched a month ago. This is her shakedown cruise, as you know from my letter. For a destination I chose Falmouth—excuse me, Portland—for reasons you understand and also because there was the outside chance I might find you here.”
“So this here’s a social call?”
“Far from it.”
“What, then?”
“I have a business proposition for you. I can’t pay you a king’s ransom, but I can pay you a fair wage if you’ll agree to join me on Falcon’s maiden voyage.”
“Where to?”
“Algiers. With a stopover on the way at Gibraltar.”
Agreen whistled softly. “Algiers. Jesus, Richard. You’re takin’ her right into the lion’s den.”
“I am. That’s why she’s painted yellow. Ben Hallowell recommended it. Dark paint absorbs heat and cracks a ship’s planking.”
Agreen nodded, his face grave. “I assume this has to do with Eagle? Everywhere I go, people still talk about it. And they’re still mad as hell.”
“As well they should be. It’s why the states acted as boldly as they did in Philadelphia. America is tired of being pushed around, Agee. I’m going to Algiers to get Caleb and his shipmates out of there. This will cost my family a king’s ransom, but it’s worth every piece of eight we have to pay.”
“An’ you’re asking me t’ join you on this cruise?” Agreen asked rhetorically.
“Yes. As Falcon’s sailing master. With the understanding that should you choose to remain in the employ of Cutler and Sons after we return home, you’ll be awarded a vessel of your own, most likely this very schooner. We’ll have with us a crew of twenty-five men, the same men you saw up on deck. Each is skilled at more than catching fish, I assure you. And we’ll be going armed into the lion’s den, Agee. Do you remember meeting General Lincoln when you were in Hingham? He’s requisitioning six 6-pounders for us through our mutual friend Richard Dale,” referring to a fellow prisoner-of-war in England and Bonhomme Richard’s first lieutenant. Dale was one of the few former Continental Navy officers who retained meaningful connections with what remained of America’s military.
“Carriage guns, Richard? On a merchant vessel?”
“Yes. And swivel guns. And not just on Falcon. Mr. Jay is calling on all American merchant captains to arm their vessels because we have no navy to protect them. There aren’t enough guns to go around, so we had to act quickly to get them.”
Agreen reflected on that. “That’s the reason for the reinforced planking I noticed on deck.”
“Yes. She couldn’t take the recoil without it. I’m certainly not going into the Mediterranean looking for a fight, but I’ll be goddamned if I’m going in there unarmed. We won’t have much, but at least we’ll have something. Falcon will be outfitted as close to a naval vessel as our country has today. And I intend to command her like a naval vessel. With your help, I pray. So what do you say, Lieutenant Crabtree?” Richard forced his voice to sound casual and bright. “Are we shipmates again?”
Agreen scratched the nape of his neck, his brow furrowed in concentration. He stared beyond Richard, out the window to the few lights visible ashore. When his eyes flicked back, Richard saw sadness and disappointment in them.
“God is my witness, Richard, I want to do this. I’d sell my soul t’ help you and your kin, you know that. But I’m not my own man the way you are. I work for Mr. Sloane, and he has me bound t’ him like a prisoner to a stake. He won’t take kindly t’ my leavin’ his employ. And he’d make things right nasty for me around here if I jumped ship.”
“Is Mr. Sloane here in Portland?
“He is.”
“I’ll pay him a visit in the morning.”
“For what purpose?”
“To buy out your contract.”
Agreen shook his head. “He’s a nice enough man, Richard, all else bein’ equal. But when it comes t’ money, all else ain’t equal. Not with him; not by a long shot. Things tend t’ get a mite sticky if he finds himself at the wrong end of a bargain. He pays good wages, I’ll give ’im that. So it’d cost you plenty even if he were inclined t’ release me.”
“It’s worth plenty to me and my family, Agee, to have you in our employ. Do we have a deal?”
Agreen snorted. “Not so fast, my friend,” he cautioned. “Not so fast. We’re makin’ progress, but we’re not there yet. We’ve got some serious negotiatin’ still t’ do. Since you’re askin’ me t’ quit my position, I have t’ consider my own interests, t’ do what’s right by me. For starters, there are three conditions that must be met before I could even consider signin’ up with your outfit.”
“Name them.”
Agreen held up a finger. “First, I want t’ stay a spell with you and your family before we sail for Algiers.” He held up another finger. “Second, I want t’ get t’ know your sons better.” He held up a third. “Here’s the clincher, matey, the deal-breaker: I want time alone in your kitchen, without you stickin’ your nose in where it ain’t wanted, t’ sit an’ ogle your wife.”
Richard maintained a poker face as he pretended to weigh the pros and cons. Then, with a heavy sigh: “Damn your sorry eyes, Agee, you have me in a corner. It goes beyond my better judgment, but I see I have no choice. I accept your terms.” He stood up and offered his hand.
Agreen stood up and shook it solemnly. Then they both burst out laughing.
RICHARD HAD MUCH to relate to his family on his first evening home. That Agreen Crabtree would be joining Falcon on her cruise to Algiers was the most heartening news. The fact that he would be stopping off in Hingham on his return voyage from North Carolina sometime in October added to the family’s pleasure. To Richard’s surprise, given what Agreen had told him about his employer, Peter Sloane had readily agreed to release Agreen from his contract on the condition that he completed two final runs to Baltimore and Wilmington. There was no need to buy out the contract, Sloane had informed Richard once he understood the facts. Eagle’s fate, he declared, could be the fate of any American merchant vessel—his own included.
The timing seemed ideal, for it would take another two to three months to prepare Falcon for sea and tie up the remaining loose ends. Several of those loose ends had been tied up during his absence, Richard discovered. His father informed him that they had received the letters of credence confirming Richard as an American emissary that John Jay had promised, and William Cutler announced that his family’s share of the ransom money would soon be on its way to Gibraltar, where it would remain in the custody of Captain Jeremy Hardcastle pending Falcon’s arrival there.
The family discussion then shifted to another topic, one equally pleasing to those present, especially Richard, who had learned to his joy that very afternoon that while William Cutler would be departing on schedule for England, his daughter would remain behind. Elizabeth Cutler would continue to occupy the spare room in Richard and Katherine’s home on South Street where she had stayed all summer.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Lizzy staying with us?” Katherine purred several hours later to her husband. He was lying on his back in bed with two goose-down pillows propping him up. The house was quiet; on either side of the bed the amber glow of candles flickered. When Katherine dropped her nightgown and slipped between the thin sheets, the heady tropical scent of frangipani filled Richard’s senses.
“Yes,” he agreed, welcoming her into his arms. “And it’s wonderful to see my uncle s
o pleased.”
“He’s pleased because Lizzy is so happy.” Katherine laid her head on Richard’s chest. “He told me he can’t remember when he last saw her this way. He completely supports her decision.”
“Her decision? When did she decide this? While I was away?”
“Yes. We were out riding one day and, well, the subject sort of came up.”
“Sort of came up?” He kissed the top of her head. “Do you really expect me to believe that? I’d wager serious money that General Cutler here has been mapping out her campaign for some time, waiting for the right moment to pounce.”
“I shan’t take that wager,” Katherine said. “And you’ll be interested to learn that I saw Lizzy walking with John Cushing today down by the harbor.”
“John Cushing? I hadn’t thought of John for Lizzy. Now that I do, I think well of it. They have much in common.”
“They do, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are a lot of eligible bachelors about town. The point is, Lizzy is finally ready to find out for herself just how many there are. She’s in no hurry to get serious about anyone. The fun is in the hunt, as she’s about to find out.” She snuggled up closer. “It will be nice to have her company whilst you’re away. She’ll be such a help with the baby.”
Richard stroked the firm flesh of her back down to the smooth silk of her buttocks. “Yes, I suppose,” he said, turning slightly, preparing to take her fully in his arms. “Though I doubt Jamie would appreciate you calling him a baby. He’s three years old, after all.”
Katherine brought her lips to his ear and a whisper to her voice. “I wasn’t referring to Jamie.”
It took a moment to register. “Katherine! You’re with child? Are you sure?”
“Have I been wrong before?”
He embraced her with a passion born of elation abruptly tempered by a surge of guilt. He slumped back onto the pillows. “A baby, Katherine. Sweet Jesus, a baby. And here I am, leaving you when you need me the most. Just as I did before Will was born.”
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “You mustn’t think that way, Richard,” she scolded, surprised by his reaction and wishing to relieve him of an unfair burden. “You must never, never think that way. I’ll be surrounded by family and friends here, just as I was in Barbados. You needn’t worry. You mustn’t. What you are doing for Caleb and Eagle’s crew is so very important.” Her voice relaxed when she added: “So you see, my love, our daughter and I will be in good hands.”
“Our daughter? What makes you so sure it’s a girl?”
“It’s only fair. You have your two boys. Now it’s my turn.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Since you’re making all the decisions here,” he said, “what do you propose to name the lass?”
“Diana.”
“Diana, is it? Why Diana?”
“No reason. Other than I happen to like the name.”
“I see. And I am to have no say in the matter?”
“None whatsoever.” She kissed him. “Any other questions you’d like to ask about the baby?”
“Yes.” He locked his eyes on hers and held them there. When she cocked her head in question he asked: “Is it mine?”
She ran the tip of her tongue along her lower lip. “Richard Cutler, you are a filthy beast with what I can only describe as very odd preferences in lovemaking. I’m onto you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I know that,” he grinned. “It’s why you married me.”
She held his gaze for a moment before laying the side of her head gently back down on his chest. “To answer your question, I can’t be absolutely certain the baby is yours. I do recall there being quite a bit of activity back then. You can imagine how difficult it is, keeping account of all the whos and whens. So let’s just say I hope the baby’s yours.”
He slapped her bottom. “You’re nothing but a wanton hussy,” he declared, his voice becoming thick with rekindled desire.
“I know, my lord,” she whispered, her voice, too, becoming throaty, any lingering banter fading away as she caressed the rigid strength of his loins, felt him probe the liquid folds of hers. “Isn’t that why you married me?”
She opened her mouth, her tongue dueled with his. He grasped her, turned her on her side, tossed aside the light coverlet, and brought her beneath him. He entered her easily, smoothly, blissfully, her fierce desire preparing her to receive him in a single powerful thrust. Later, after he had poured himself into her and her tremors had subsided, he lay on his back with her arm wrapped tightly around him.
Her last words before he drifted away were both soft and compelling: “I love you, Richard. I shall always love you, and I am so very, very proud of you.”
Five
At Sea, Spring 1788
IT WAS FITTING THAT THE ARRIVAL of Falcon’s ordnance in Boston, under sail from Baltimore, took an agonizingly long time. Such had been the case with most details since the Cutlers had settled on their course; why should the resolution of the most crucial detail be any different? Delays had heaped upon delays, some due to human error, the majority simply the result of trying to get things done in a fledgling republic where bureaucrats lacked any practical experience. Someone in higher authority had to approve each step along the way. But who? What was the protocol? Most important, who should one turn to—or away from—to ensure that blame, if levied, could be deflected elsewhere?
Richard Dale finally managed to wade through the bureaucratic quagmire to secure the weaponry he had requested for Falcon. His source was Alliance, the last American frigate to see action in the war with England. After the Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, she had been decommissioned and put up in ordinary in Baltimore to await her fate. Ben Franklin had advocated giving her as a gift to the dey of Algiers in lieu of ransom money, a proposal supported by, among others, the powerful Biddle family in Philadelphia. In the end, however, most of the frigate’s guns were removed and she was sold off to private interests to serve in the China trade.
Even after six of Alliance’s thirty-six guns had been officially consigned to Boston, along with eight of her swivel guns, the vessel selected to transport them would not sail from Baltimore until its master had determined who was footing the bill. John Jay had promised American shipping entrepreneurs that Congress would help pay the cost of arming their vessels. But what, exactly, did that mean? Just how much was Congress prepared to pay? Who would approve such payments? Of greatest mystery, where would the money come from? Under the Articles of Confederation, government efficiency had been a rarity. With the Articles now cast adrift and a new ship of state under way without, as yet, a working compass to guide it, the term “government efficiency” had become an alehouse joke.
Their frustrations mounting, the Cutlers had finally decided to pay for the guns themselves and to send one of their own vessels to Baltimore to get them. Alexander Hamilton was again quick to promise that the U.S. Treasury would repay all expenditures incurred in the rescue of American sailors abroad—once the government was able to exercise its newly granted authority to raise funds by taxing its citizenry. An increasingly skeptical Thomas Cutler had put that letter in a drawer with all the others.
By the time the last loose ends had been tied off, the thick blanket of winter snow had melted sufficiently to reveal tiny buds of the new season beneath and Diana Cutler had been welcomed into the world by a family praising God that both mother and daughter had made it through what had proved to be a difficult pregnancy.
“She will be our last child,” Richard vowed to Katherine one evening in mid-April. They were sitting side by side in their bedroom beside a wicker cradle in which Diana slept soundly at last, her tiny stomach taut with her mother’s milk. “I shall not see you suffer like that again. I thank God I was not able to sail before Diana was born. I could not have without knowing that you both were safe.”
Katherine was in no mood to protest. The pregnancy had been an ordeal, with more weight gain, b
loating, and sickness than she could have expected following Jamie’s relatively easy birth. Unwillingly but inevitably during those difficult weeks she had revisited in her mind the fate of Cynthia’s baby in England. That fearful image of a tiny, bloody corpse had consumed her waking hours and intruded upon her dreams. As much by her own desire as her doctor’s urging, she had remained a-bed for much of the last two months of her pregnancy.
“I am eternally grateful for Lizzy,” she said, rocking the cradle gently with her hand. “She was a godsend, truly a godsend, especially with the boys. Your mother was a love, of course. She did what she could. And Anne and Lavinia helped out whenever they were here. But Lizzy was always here. We would not have come through as we did, without her.” Wearily, sadly, she put her arm around her husband’s waist and laid her head against his shoulder. “She’s taking Will to see you off tomorrow in Boston, you know.”
“She’ll be at Long Wharf, yes, but she’ll not be there to see me off.”
She looked at Richard and smiled. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Who would have dreamt it? They make such a handsome couple. And yet their backgrounds are so different.”
“So are ours,” he reminded her. “I was a lowly sailor from the colonies. You were English gentry, destined to become a matriarch of titled blood. Rumor has it that King George himself carried a torch for you.”
“Oh, posh,” she laughed. “Today, even his stable boy would not so much as glance at this bedraggled mass of flesh.”
For Love of Country Page 8
