Christopher smiled, his periwig back in place and his coat looking clean and new. “It will be my secret that I shall take to my grave. But when Miss Howland made the request, how could I deny her?” He sent a long look to her.
She couldn’t look away. Something in his eyes told her what she yearned to hear.
“Well, the men thank you, Sis, or Captain Latham, whoever is responsible for such a fine meal.” Sam held his plate up to his nose and took a big whiff. “I shall sleep well tonight with a belly full of roast goose!”
Several of the men cheered.
Christopher leaned a bit closer as she filled his plate. “It seems the geese are winning you even more friends.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to think that after all this they would imagine I was still bad luck.”
As they sat by the fire in the gathering room, Esther noticed that more and more men gathered each night around her father. He’d told her that all he was doing was sharing the scriptures with them in the simplest way he knew how. The exciting thing was that the men were listening. Asking questions.
Just the night before, she’d encouraged Papa by telling him that he was fulfilling the part at the end of Matthew 28 where Jesus had commanded his disciples to go and teach all nations. By teaching those around him, Papa was doing exactly that.
She was proud that Papa had such a knack for explaining the scriptures.
“Your father is doing a very good work.” Christopher’s voice pulled her gaze up to his face while she stitched the edge of a potato sack.
“Isn’t the fort coming along nicely?” She took a glance around.
“No. I mean, yes, the fort is looking great. But I was talking about what he’s doing with those soldiers. They needed someone to look up to, someone they could trust and ask questions of. It’s hard when I’m their commanding officer. Some of them don’t feel like they can approach me like that. But with your father here, they have their own father figure, someone they look up to but who isn’t their commander.”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. “The good Lord is so gracious to supply all our needs. Even if it’s in the shape of a stonemason instead of a preacher.”
“Or the stonemason’s beautiful daughter.”
His words touched a place deep in her heart. Never had a man, other than her own father, told her she was beautiful. As she looked into Christopher’s eyes, she wished she understood all that his eyes were saying. But it was enough to hear those words from him. She heard the beating of her heart in her ears and felt heat rush to her face. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been wanting to tell you that for some time now.” His eyes went back to the fire. “But I always seem to get nervous before I can say it.”
Her mouth went dry and she pushed the needle and thread through the seam faster.
“Perhaps … I could ask your father about the proper way to court you?”
Chapter 13
The next day flew by as the skies cleared and the sun warmed their backs. Not wanting to waste the good weather, Christopher ordered all the men to work on the walls while they had the chance. Only two were left on watch. All others changed duties to help with the construction.
Esther’s father smiled to have so many willing workers and busy hands. The past few weeks had been difficult on them all. Especially when the men complained of frozen fingers and toes. The cold had slowed their progress considerably.
As Christopher watched their stonemasons at work, he thanked the Lord for giving them such a fine day. Perhaps it would keep Mr. Howland in a good mood for when Christopher wanted to ask to court Esther.
But as the day went by, he found himself pulled in many different directions. Every time he headed toward Samuel, someone would interrupt needing his attention.
Christopher finished up with his lieutenant, straightened his coat, and determined that this time nothing would stop him from speaking with Esther’s father. But as he got closer, doubts filled his mind. What if Mr. Howland didn’t think that being a captain’s wife was a good thing for his daughter? What if he didn’t want her living on the island permanently and away from her family? What if he didn’t approve?
Swallowing his fears, he shook his head. The clanking of the tools against rock filled his ears. It was a sound he’d gotten used to of late. The scent of roasted goose floated over to him. It would be fine to eat such a nice meal again. Esther had once again done a wonderful job.
His mouth watered just thinking about it.
And then he was only steps away.
Samuel Howland instructed one of the men to set a rock in the pulley system so it could be hefted up to the men above.
This was the time. Deep breath. “Mr. Howland, might I have a word?”
“Of course, Captain.” The older man smiled. “Let me ensure this stone gets placed correctly, and I’ll be right with you.”
Christopher nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. Taking a few steps away, he thought about what he was going to say. And yet everything he’d rehearsed before disappeared. His mind had gone blank.
“How can I be of service?” Mr. Howland’s voice made Christopher turn around.
“Sir, it is I who wish to be of service to you.”
“Oh?”
“I find myself … That is to say … I would like ask your permission …”
Samuel lifted his brows. “Yes?”
“To court your daughter.”
The older man’s eyes sparkled. He pointed a finger at Christopher. “I was wondering if you had begun to fancy her. She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir. I know this is a bit unorthodox, since she is the only lady on the island and it’s not exactly as proper society would have it, but I wanted you to know I am in earnest.”
Samuel put a hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “I would be honored, Captain Latham.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re a fine man. Will you continue with your duties in service to the King if you marry?”
“I was planning to, sir. Are you in agreement with that?”
“Of course. What you do is of the highest integrity and import. But it will take some time adjusting to the idea of being separated from Esther. That is, if you remain on Castle Island. With the loss of her mother—God rest her soul—still quite recent, I hadn’t put thought into her moving away where I wouldn’t see her.”
Christopher had feared as much. “I assure you that we would make the effort to visit Boston often.” Was it too presumptuous even to be speaking of such things?
“There’s plenty of time for us to discuss these things. I can see by the look on your face that I’ve overwhelmed you.” Samuel chuckled. “I remember all too well speaking to my sweet wife’s father. I was a jumble of nerves.”
Even as the captain and commander of the troops on the island, he had to admit that he’d been nervous. More nervous about this conversation than anything else in recent months. “Thank you, sir. Do you mind if I speak with your daughter this evening?”
“Be my guest. You have my approval.”
Esther’s eyes roamed the room. She couldn’t help it. All day she’d longed to hear if Christopher had spoken to Papa. And she hadn’t seen Christopher since luncheon. The wait was doing funny things to her insides.
The roasted geese were out for supper again. This batch had been roasting all day, and she loved the aroma. The men were all smiles as they came through the serving line. Probably some because of the warmer weather and sunshine, but most had nothing but wonderful things to say about her food. And that boosted her spirits even more.
Now, if only she could speak to Christopher, her heart might calm down and settle into a slower rhythm. Theirs had been a friendship that was quite uncommon. Simple moments talking together. Sharing by the fire. It wasn’t how it would be done in Boston, but what did that matter? It was natural and real. And that was what she loved.
Lively chatter filled the large room. More chairs had been a
ssembled each day, so fewer men had to sit on stumps, rocks, or the hard floor. It really was looking more and more like a fort every day.
As horrible as life had been the first few weeks here, now it was difficult to think about leaving. And the more progress that was made on the fort, the sooner that would be.
Her heart sank with the thought. She still had many months left, best to focus on that.
“Good evening, Miss Howland.” The familiar voice brought her head up. Christopher.
Allowing a smile to fill her face, she gave a tiny curtsy. “Good evening, Captain Latham. How was your day?”
“Quite full. Much better now that I get to see you.”
She felt a blush rise up her neck.
“Could we perhaps sit by the fire and talk?”
“I would love that.” Even though that’s what they did almost every evening, she had a feeling that tonight would be different.
“I’ll have a chair waiting for you.”
“Thank—”
Boom!
The sound of the cannon firing made the entire room go silent.
Christopher dropped his plate on the table in front of her and ran out of the room followed by several of his men.
If the watch had fired a cannon, that must mean that a ship they didn’t recognize was getting close.
Boom!
Another round.
Esther stood behind the table and closed her eyes. Lord, please let it be a friendly ship. Please let them raise their flag.
She repeated the prayer over and over. No one would be prepared for an attack in the middle of winter. Who would be bold enough to mount one?
Although Boston was a prime settlement in the harbor, another country wouldn’t come against England’s territories—would they?
Boom!
With every fire of the cannon, Esther felt her nerves tighten. Did they even have adequate shelter here if an incoming ship attacked? The island was out in the open, its sole purpose to guard and protect Boston. But who would protect them?
When she looked around the room, she noticed almost all of the men had left the gathering room, except for a few that stood guard at the doors, muskets at the ready.
Papa strode toward her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in here when they fired. I was still working on the west wall. Are you all right? Your face is white as a sheet.” He took her elbows in his hands.
“Yes, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’m sure it’s just a precaution.” Deep breath. “Would you like something to eat?”
Boom! Crash!
This time, it wasn’t their cannon firing. A ship was firing on them!
Papa grabbed her arm and dragged her over to the corner. “Sit here.” Then he covered her with his body, sheltering her. “We’re under attack!”
Chapter 14
Something warm trickled down the side of Christopher’s face. He’d barely missed getting crushed by the wall that had fallen from the blast. He reached up his hand and then pulled it away to see red. Blood.
Looking around him, he didn’t see any prone forms. “Is everyone all right? Sound off in your ranks!”
“All here, Captain!”
“Aye, all here as well!”
“Here!”
Voices sounded from all around him, some weaker than others. Some full of fear.
An eerie silence surrounded them. The ship had only fired once. What could that mean?
“Should I fire again, Cap’n?” The voice called down from the bastion that housed the forward cannon.
Christopher held up his hand. “Not yet.” Not until he understood what they were facing. “But ready all the cannon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Standing up from his crouched position, he held out his hand to John. “The glass, please.”
“Here, sir.”
The cool of the metal hit his hand. Christopher extended the glass and peered through. It took him a moment to focus in the dark, but he saw figures scrambling to the mast. A flag was going up.
The French!
His heart pounded. Why would they attack? Were there more ships coming? It didn’t appear to be a ship of war—
Then a man at the bow jumped up and down, his arms frantically waving two white flags. What?
“John, they’re waving white flags. It’s the French.”
“What do you think it means, sir?”
“I’m not sure. Why would they fire on us and then wave a white flag?”
“Should I light the torch to acknowledge?”
Christopher put the eyeglass down for a moment. Was it some sort of trap? His mind spun. As commander, he was responsible for all the souls not only on the island but in Boston as well. If he chose wrong, there could be dire consequences. Raising the glass back up to his eye, he watched the ship lay anchor.
“Light the torch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the torch was lit and waved, Christopher watched the ship closely. Several men got into a skiff. After several moments passed, they began to row toward shore.
“Lieutenant!”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Prepare a welcome party at the shore. Muskets at the ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
Peter ran into the gathering room and shouted, “It’s the French! They fired upon us and then waved a white flag. They’re coming to shore!” Then he ran out.
Papa lifted her to her feet. “Perhaps it would be safer for you back at our cabin. I wouldn’t want them to know a woman is here. In case they are unsavory … or hostile.”
Hostile? This couldn’t be happening. Oh Lord, save us!
Sergeant Jones stomped toward them. “It’s the curse, I tell you.” His voice rose in volume. Then he pointed at Esther and yelled, “All because we have a woman here.”
“Utter nonsense.” Papa shook his head and then turned back to her. “Ignore him, Esther. Let’s get you to the cabin.”
Her head bobbed up and down, but not because she wanted it to. Merely in habitual response to Papa’s instructions. Her mind wasn’t on her own safety but on a certain gentleman who would surely be at the forefront of it all.
What was happening? Why would the French fire on them and then wave a white flag?
In the cover of darkness, they scurried to their little cabin. Her feet felt like they were plodding along, as if ten stones were strapped to them, weighing them down. They entered the cold cabin and nothing seemed right. Like the world had tilted and she was upside down.
A shiver raced up her spine. Blinking away the strangeness of the moment, she stoked the fire and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Was Christopher all right? What if he was hurt?
“I’m going to go find your brother. Stay here. Understood?”
“Yes, Papa.” She stared into the flames.
What had started out as a beautiful day had crumbled before her. She’d been so excited to see Christopher, to hear if he’d spoken to Papa. Thoughts of the future had scrolled through her mind like a dream. This was what all her friends had spoken of. The joy of courtship. The knowledge of a future with a gentleman.
But what if the men were correct? What if she was bad luck and this was all her fault?
What if there would be no future for her and Captain Latham?
“Captain, I demand to speak with you!” Steven wasn’t going to hold his tongue any longer.
“Sergeant, I’m a bit busy at the moment.” The captain didn’t even look at him. He just watched the skiff as it rowed toward the shore.
“This is all because of Miss Howland, and you know it. She’s bad luck! The curse is upon us. The French are going to attack. Why are you allowing them ashore? Please, I beg you to listen.”
“Your superstitions are unfounded, Sergeant Jones, and I must insist that—”
“If you won’t listen to me, then I will take care of this myself.” Imbeciles. If they couldn’t see the writing on the wall, then he would have
to save them. Steven grabbed a musket another soldier had just loaded and aimed it at the skiff.
“Stop him!” The captain yelled.
But the words didn’t deter him. He focused. Took a breath …
Oomph!
Three soldiers tackled him. He tried to fire but couldn’t. They were too strong. “This is insanity! You’ll be the death of us all!”
Chapter 15
Make sure they are good and tight.” Christopher looked at John as his lieutenant tied Steven’s hands and feet. “Remove him from the premises. I don’t want to start a war because one man is out of his mind.”
Steven spit at the ground. “You, sir, are the one who’s out of his mind.”
“Gag him while you’re at it!” Christopher commanded and then turned back to watch the Frenchmen’s progress. The skiff was close to shore. This was no time to take risks. If the French saw a rogue officer attempting to fire at them, it could be disastrous for them all.
“With me, the rest of you.” Christopher headed down to the shore to greet the boat.
Much to his surprise, it appeared to be the captain of the ship at the bow. As his men dragged the boat to shore, the French captain kept a stern face.
Then he stepped out and walked toward them. “Are you the commander of the fort?” The man’s English was good even though his accent was thick.
It brought a great deal of relief to Christopher. His French was quite unpracticed. “I am.” He held out a hand in greeting. “Captain Latham.”
“Captain Fontaine.” They shook hands. “My deepest apologies, Captain. It appears one of my men was nervous and accidentally fired on the fort.” He dipped his chin. The pride on his face was evident, but the humility of their circumstances became all too apparent. “The lack of food has made many of the men delirious and weak. We are not here as enemies.”
Christopher took in the sight of the men before him. While they held themselves up in posture, it was easy to see they were malnourished. “I am grateful to hear that, Captain Fontaine, but sorry for your situation. How can we help?”
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