by Lynn Hubbard
A man stepped forward to greet them. “Didn’t think I would see you again so soon. Is this an inquisition?” he asked, eyeing Randall in his British Finery.
Tristan grinned, looking almost boyish. “No it’s a tour for my new house guest.”
He turned to draw Sarah forward. “Sarah, meet Gabriel.”
“Gabriel,” Sarah repeated, offering her hand to him. She was surprised when he brought it to his lips and kissed it. “Sarah, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
She blushed genuinely, withdrawing her hand. Randall frowned at the new competitor. Perhaps his idea of a tour was not the best. “We won’t be long,” he added with an air of superiority.
“A pity, any guest of Tristan’s is a guest of mine,” Gabriel said with a wink.
Sarah turned to take in the view from the ship. The constant rocking made her a bit queasy and she grasped the railing to help steady herself. In the distance she could see a ship with no mast. A shadow crossed over her when the men joined her.
“What is that ship?” she asked. “Why is it different?”
“It is a hulk,” Randall supplied. “The mast was removed so it can’t be moved.”
“It is a prison ship,” Gabriel added. Sarah glanced at him, there was a faint tone of disgust in his voice and she wondered at it.
Sarah turned back to stare at the dark boat. She wished they were closer so she could tell more about it. A hand touched her back and she looked up into Tristan’s blue eyes. “There are more pleasant things to see.”
She allowed herself to be guided away; she was lead to the front of the ship to the captain’s bridge. She looked at the sturdy oak wheel and trailed her hand along its length. It was hard to believe this small piece of wood could steer a ship of this size.
“How does it work?” she asked.
“The wheel is attached by rope to the rudder. Turning the wheel turns the rudder and directs it on its path.”
The galley was next on the tour; it held enough seats to feed the entire crew. They bypassed the men’s quarters due to decency, but explained the men slept in hammocks. The thought of men sleeping in a swinging gunnysack intrigued her and she was gravely disappointed.
Sarah asked any question that popped into her mind. Anything to delay getting back into the audacious carriage.
Randall stifled a yawn, looking at his pocket watch. “We have a whole city to see, unless you would like me to visit again tomorrow.”
“No, I wouldn’t want to keep you,” Sarah supplied. “I can return another day?”
“Anytime you wish,” Tristan added, and earned a smile.
She caught Gabriel staring at her intently, it was not lust in his eyes but something else, intrigue maybe? It was time to return to the rowboat and they did so in reverse order. Tristan first, and then Sarah.
Stepping up to the rope ladder and looking down she felt ill. It seemed so far away. Her head whirled a bit and she took a deep breath before gathering her courage and throwing one leg over first, and then the next. It was much more difficult going down. She dreaded looking beneath her to find the swaying rungs for her feet; so she used her foot to locate it instead. About half way down a gust of wind caught the ladder and ripped it from Tristan’s grasp. The sudden movement caused Sarah to lose her grip; her heart lurched in her chest as she felt herself falling. A second later, she had toppled into Tristan’s out stretched arms and knocked him flat on his back. Sarah lay straddled atop of him, their faces only inches apart.
“Need some help?” Gabriel shouted down as the men on the ship hooted and whistled.
Unable to answer since the air was knocked out of him, he gave a thumbs up. Embarrassed, Sarah put her hands on his hard chest and pushed herself up. “Are you alright?” she asked, worried about his silence.
“Good,” he replied, taking a large draft of air into his lungs.
“Thank you for saving me.”
“Always,” he replied.
There was a thump as Randall joined them. He made a big show of checking on Sarah’s welfare and she had to slap his hands away.
The return trip was unremarkable and Sarah was glad to have her feet back on solid ground. Back in the carriage they stayed on the road next to the bay. Both of them were pointing out landmarks here and there. Sarah tried to listen in and memorize their words, but what was the worth? If she had no way to export her findings, they were worthless.
Feeling glum as well as squished she turned her eyes to the black hulk. They were getting closer. The breeze shifted and the putrid smell of sickness washed over them.
Tristan cursed and covered his nose with his cloak, offering Sarah his handkerchief. Randall whom was driving the carriage had no recourse and actually gagged.
“What is that awful smell?” she asked, knowing full well what it was. She had smelled it many times over the last couple of years and was well immune to its effect.
“It is from the prison ship. Most of the men are ill.”
“And who is caring for them?” Sarah asked, although the answer was already known.
“No one,” Randall supplied. “The British cannot afford to offer services to criminals.”
Sarah shuddered at the coldness in his tone. Perhaps swaying from a tree branch was not such a bad end as she imagined. Her eyes were drawn to the ship and she stared until they passed. She could almost feel the suffering of the men on board. Men whom would rather die than denounce their cause.
As if the knowledge sapped her strength she leaned into Tristan and was rewarded as his arm crept about her.
A word spoken by Randall caught her attention and she turned to him. “Hospital? Can we visit?”
“A hospital is no place for a lady,” he rebuffed and Sarah frowned. She made a point to turn her back on him and face Tristan.
“Is this the hospital your brother works at?”
“He used to before he joined the war. He was a great surgeon.”
“Was?” Sarah frowned.
“What Mr. Radcliff is trying to say is that his bloody brother left and joined the Rebels.”
“Rebels?!” Sarah gasped in pretend shock. “Surely you jest.”
Tristan scowled at Randall before replying. “It is true; I believe he has gone quite mad. He left a note with his wife and disappeared. I know not if he lives.”
Randall humphed, “We would all be better off if he was dead. Not only has he ignored his service to the King, he is patching up the other agitators. If I were a Radcliff, I would be thoroughly disgraced. ”
“Well it is by God’s good grace that you are not,” Tristan spat.
Their squabble continued, but Sarah’s thoughts were on the prison ship. She hardly recalled the remainder of the tour. She could not clear her mind of the cruelness of men.
Chapter 12 Thoughts & Plans
Sarah sat at the dinner table and played with her food. Thankfully, the Major left after dropping her and Tristan off. He studied her worriedly from across the table.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just tired is all. In fact, I may retire early.” She patted her mouth with her embroidered napkin before excusing herself. She headed to her room and washed her face in the basin.
Looking into the mirror above the washstand, she was shocked by her reflection. Her red hair made her fair skin look even more fragile. Her cheeks were tinted by the brisk wind and sun. She was lovely, and looked just as her mother had looked in her youth. Her heart ached at the thought that her parents never had the chance to see her grown.
A single tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. Her hands fumbled with her hair, releasing it from its bindings. It shimmered halfway down her back as she brushed it.
A bell clanked outside and she moved to the window to peek out. She looked down at the people scurrying around in the darkness. New York was an odd place. The streets where lit with lanterns to guide their way. She so missed her home. The quiet countryside, with the occasio
nal visitor. Perhaps someday she could return, once all this madness was over.
She climbed under the covers and blew out her light. However, sleep did not find her. Her arms and shoulders ached from climbing the ladder. That twisted her thoughts to Tristan, his muscular arms rowing and climbing with ease. How hard his chest was when she landed on him. The last thought brought a smile to her face. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.
She awoke the next day feeling refreshed. She had never slept so soundly. Light filled the room and she turned to sit up. She felt a weight on her waist and it took a second or two for her befuddled mind to realize it was an arm. And connected to the arm was Tristan.
Shocked she grabbed her pillow and began to beat him with it. In his haste to protect himself, he rolled away, and off the bed on the other side. His rumbled head appeared a second later as she seethed.
“What the hell are you doing in my bed?”
“Well, I believe it is quite obvious that I was sleeping.”
“Do you think me daft? You have no reason to violate my bed.”
Tristan balked, “I did not violate anyone, and would not. You were restless, so I came to watch over you.”
“That is a lie, I slept very restful.”
“You did once I joined you,” he said, unable to hide his grin. He received a face full of feathers for his troubles.
“Well then, I apologize for disturbing you. I will not continue to burden you with my presence. I shall seek shelter elsewhere.”
“No.”
“Pardon me?” she asked, her chest heaving with emotion. She looked down and realized she was still in her nightshift and was exposing much of her bosom. She hugged the ruined pillow in front of her blocking his view.
“I agreed to protect you, and by God I will. I’m not sure what demons visit your dreams at night, but anytime you call for me, I will come.”
“Are you saying I called for you last night?” she asked, slightly terrified by his answer.
“Yes, I must confess I probably would not have heard you had I not been listening at the door. Nonetheless, I swear you did speak my name.”
“Hmpf! I was probably cursing your name.”
“Perhaps, but you were dreaming of me.”
Sarah sat on the bed in surrender. This was not going at all as planned. Tristan was a powerful man in the community. His influence might help her with her new goal; to gain freedom for the men on the prison ship. He has wealth, prestige, and a mighty fleet. All she had to do was convince him to deceive his country.
“Fine, I will stay. For now. However, I think we should get to know each other better.”
Tristan flopped on the bed next to her. “What did you have in mind?”
“Tell me about your brother. What made him leave?”
Tristan groaned, flopping over onto his back. “What is there to say?”
“You don’t seem very fond of the British, especially Major Johnson. I think you are more like Robert than you think.”
“How did you know my brother’s name?”
“Oh, well Colonel Hill told me of course. I was asking about your family picture above the fireplace.”
“My family had been in shipping for decades. My heart and soul is in this business. To keep it afloat, I and my family chose to support the winning side.”
“I see. So you are in it for the money.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Isn’t it?” Sarah said, turning her back on him to get dressed. She pulled her dress over her shift and smoothed out the wrinkles with her hand. Without looking at him she headed down for breakfast. The dining room was empty so she headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a biscuit from the bowl on the cupboard and took a bite.
“Sleep well?” Cecilia asked with a smile.
“Apparently,” she replied taking another bite. “By the way, do you have my dress? The one I wore when I arrived?”
“Yes ma’am, I cleaned it. You will find it folded up in the trunk at the foot of your bed. You are welcome to wear anything in the trunk as well. Mrs. Radcliff will be away until the war is over.”
“I’m surprised Tristan did not join them.”
“He doesn’t fancy London much. And it would kill him to miss out on all of this excitement.”
Excitement is not a word she would use to describe warfare. Sarah nodded her thanks and she finished her biscuit, heading out to the stables to check on Molly.
***
Molly’s ears perked up as Sarah approached the corral. She was nibbling at the tender spring grass peeking out of the ground. Sarah leaned against the railing and spoke to the mare.
“Hey girl, you wanna go for a ride?” She was rewarded by a soft neigh. Sarah slipped through the wooden fence and grabbed her lead rope. The mare followed dutifully and stood stock still while being saddled.
She followed the route back to the bay. It felt wonderful to be on her own. She wanted to find out more about the hulk and didn’t need anyone asking questions. Passing the park, she was thankful they had finally removed the corpse. Hopefully they weren’t making room for a new one.
Molly seemed more spry than usual and she made good time. As the prison ship came into view she halted and decided to walk the mare. Keeping the mare between her and the water she was hopefully able to hide her interest. She came upon a pier she had not noticed the day before; it would offer her a better vantage point.
Tying Molly to a railing, she nonchalantly made her way across the wooden deck. The sky was clouding up, as was the wind. The water beneath her was churning white. She hesitated, wondering if she should head back or not when she caught sight of a loan figure at the end.
He was silhouetted against the gray sky and something about him seemed familiar. Squaring her shoulders she pressed on. Recognition sank in when she viewed his profile and called to him.
Chapter 13 An Unlikely Ally
“Gabriel?”
He turned a look of surprise crossing his face. “Sarah? What are you doing here?”
“I would ask you the same.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Needed to stretch my legs.”
Sarah stared at him intently; she noticed how he looked away as he answered. “What do you know of the prison ship?”
He frowned and his face darkened. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Yesterday when I was asking about it, you seemed pensive. It just seemed out of character for you.”
“If you must know, my brother, Jonathan, is on board.” He whispered even though they were utterly alone.
“He is a guard?” she pushed.
“No, he was taken prisoner while I was on a run to London. I told him to keep his nose clean. Youngsters,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“Surely Tristan will vouch for him, and earn his release?”
Gabriel shook his head, “There is no negotiating with the British.”
“What if I could help you? What if we could help each other?”
“I don’t understand. Why do you need help?”
Sarah smiled sadly. “I need to fulfill a pledge.”
“Well, that is kind of vague.”
“Really? How about this, I plan on freeing the men on the ship.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he grabbed her by the throat. “What kind of trickery is this? Are you a spy for the British? Are you trying to get me tried for treason as well?”
“No, for the Rebels,” she whispered hoarsely. He released her in shock and she gulped for air.
“Prove it.”
Standing tall Sarah looked him in the eyes. “Robert Radcliff has a scar on his left arm. He received it when he was tangled up in ropes on the ship. You cut him loose but nicked him in the process. You saved his life, or at least his arm. It was then he decided to become a surgeon. To help people.”
“Robert is alive?”
Sarah sighed. “As of a week ago, yes.”
“And you were sent to help free the prisoners?”
Gabriel smiled genuinely. “Surely you are mad, but your spirit is catching. I vow to do whatever is in my power to gain freedom for the damned.”
“A ship would help,” Sarah said, her heart throbbing with hope. She was sent a champion to her cause. Although it was a risk to reveal herself, it was worth it to gain an ally.
“Does Tristan know?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.
“No, I’m not sure where his loyalties lie. It will have to just be us for now.”
“We need a plan,” Gabriel replied, “and it had better be a damn good one.”
***
The sky opened up as Sarah headed back to the Radcliff’s. The cold rain matched the chill in her heart. Had she done the right thing confessing to Gabriel? Only time will tell.
Gabriel would gain information on the guard schedule, and it was her job to persuade Tristan to help. She was doubtful of the request, but Gabriel assured her he could be convinced.
He knew Tristan better than anyone, and it was Robert who requested she go to him if she needed help.
Of course Robert would consider this a fool’s mission. But isn’t that what is thought of the whole affair? That a handful of farmers stood not a chance against the Crown’s army? Yet, they still fight on, and so shall she.
Determination built in her chest as she nudged Molly a bit faster. She thankfully passed off her reigns to the young boy working the stables while she scurried to the house. Cecilia met her with a towel and ordered her upstairs to change.
She took the servants’ stairs and was breathless when she reached the top. Stepping on the landing she ran full force into Tristan. He grabbed her arms to keep her from toppling backwards.
