Silverswept

by Linda Ladd

  For the duration of an hour, Donovan and Brace watched the English warships gradually devour the gap between them while the play continued uninterrupted, with few of the passengers aware of the interlopers. It was not until the British flagship let loose a warning shot that the unsuspecting playgoers became aware of their proximity, and though the cannonball fell harmlessly into the sea a good distance from the Halcyone's bow, it served to start a near panic on the main deck.

  "They intend to board us,” Brace said in a growl. He barked angry orders to drop sail, and silence descended over the passengers as the heavily gunned British brig drew around to tie up at starboard. A hailing call came from the bridge of the brig, asking for identification.

  "The Halcyone out of London and bound for New York, Captain Brace MacBride commanding her,” Brace called tightly.

  "Prepare to stand by and be searched."

  "I protest under the tenets of international law!"

  "Prepare to be boarded or considered enemy sympathizers” came the British response, and Donovan put a restraining hand on Brace's tensed arm.

  "Do as they say, Brace. We have no choice now. All we can do is issue a protest with Washington when we reach New York. Our crewmen are Americans with papers to prove it. They can't impress them."

  Alysson had listened to the angry exchange between the two ship captains from a spot at the corner of the forecastle rail. Billy stood with her, and they watched in silence as a party of blue-coated officers gathered on the other ship, to board the Halcyone. Alysson turned quickly to Billy as he made an odd, strangled sound. She found his face blanched white, his eyes aghast as he stared at the boarding party. Alysson grabbed his arm.

  "What is it, Billy? Tell me!"

  Billy wet parched lips, his eyes dark with terror. “Oh, ‘od, it be ‘im,” he groaned with quivering voice. “'E'll take me back. ‘At's the only reason they board foreign ships, to look for deserters. I can't go back, I can't go back!"

  His whole body began to shake, and Alysson tightened her grip on his arm as panic twisted his face.

  "Who is it? The one who beat you?"

  "No, it ain't ‘Iggins, it be Lieutenant Tabert. I ‘ad ‘is watch!"

  Alysson looked back at the British officers, then searched desperately for Donovan among the passengers on the maindeck. He would help Billy, she knew he would. He was an important American, and his brother was the captain! Surely he could do something! She finally picked him out near the gangport standing tall and rigid beside Brace. They waited for the British, and there was no way she could get to him before they were boarded.

  "Come on, Billy, hurry! We've got to hide you somewhere before he recognizes you!"

  "It ain't no use, it ain't no use,” Billy cried, his voice rising shrilly. “Captain MacBride will give ’em the names of the passengers and crew. They'll question everyone and search the ship! They'll find me! They will!"

  Alysson took him firmly by the arm. “Ssssh, they won't find you! Come on, hurry!"

  Few of the passengers took notice of young Romeo and Juliet as they moved quickly across the stage to the tented dressing room. All eyes were on the MacBrides as they received the British commander with cold civility.

  "Get your clothes off, Billy!” Alysson whispered as soon as they were inside. “Quickly, put on the costume you wore when you played the serving maid!"

  "No, no, that won't work. ‘E'll recognize me name off the passenger list, and they'll look for me! Oh, God..."

  Alysson bit her lip and looked around frantically, her eyes alighting on the rack of costumes. One of Billy's outfits hung at the end, and she grabbed it, her heart pounding.

  "Then I'll have to be you! I'll be a boy named Billy Brock, and he won't be looking for you anymore!"

  "No, you can't, they'll know, they will!"

  Alysson whirled around and grabbed Billy by the shoulders. She shook him as hard as she could, her face angry. “Stop it, Billy, and get hold of yourself! It's either that or go along with them without even trying! Is that what you want to do?"

  Billy sobered at once at her harsh words, then hurriedly shrugged off the velvet tunic he wore. He left on his breeches, stepping quickly into the dress that Alysson thrust at him. She took a fringed shawl from the trunk and threw it at him.

  "Put this on, too! I can hear them calling out names!"

  Alysson pushed him down in front of the mirror as he pulled the shawl around his shoulders, then she colored his mouth with lip rouge. She applied more beneath his smooth cheekbones as Odette had taught her, then hastily put on him a black ringleted ladies’ wig that Billy wore when he played his female roles.

  "Here's Rosalie's bonnet, put it on!"

  Billy obeyed, tying the red ribbon beneath his chin, his hope returning as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He hardly recognized the pretty, raven-haired girl staring back at him, her face white and her eyes wide and afraid.

  Alysson's heart hammered harder as she scrubbed the cosmetics off her face. She stripped off her gown and pantalettes, uncaring of Billy's presence as she donned the brown breeches and shirt of Billy's peasant costume. She pulled her hair back and stuck it into the cap, then leaned down to look in the mirror. She frowned in dismay. She looked nothing like a boy! Not one iota! And her hair bulged inside the cap, too long and thick to be thus confined! Now what would she do?

  "What if they ask me questions?” Billy whispered fearfully. “What if they can tell I'm not a girl?"

  "Shut up, Billy! Just step forward when they call my name and mumble if you have to, for heaven's sake!"

  Her sharp anger stopped Billy's words, and he stared at Alysson as she tried desperately to stuff her long hair into a different cap. It would not be contained there either, and Alysson panicked as shouts came from outside. She would not let them have Billy again!

  Her gaze settled on a jar of butternut dye where it sat on the dressing table. She picked it up and, without hesitation, began to slather it over her face and hands, while Billy gasped in horror.

  "What are ye doin'?"

  "They won't suspect an Ethiop, and I can wear Milton's Othello wig!"

  "But your eyes are green!"

  "Then I'll squint! Go on out now in case they call my name! We can't be found in here! And remember to act like a girl!"

  Billy's face paled, but he left as directed, and Alysson wiped the excess stain off her face and hands, pleased with the effect. She looked different now, like a light-skinned Negro, but her red-blond hair would not do. She grabbed the black woolly wig from its hook, but seconds later she knew her hair would not be hidden beneath it. Frantic again, she looked around, trying to think what to do as the sound of booted feet clomped up the forecastle steps.

  A look of steadfast determination settled over her face, and she picked up the shears from the dressing table. An awful, sick feeling congealed in the pit of her stomach as she gathered her long blond tresses over one shoulder. She closed her eyes, then hacked haphazardly at her hair until it hung in ragged layers just below her shoulders. The deed done, she took no time to mourn its loss but stuffed her shortened hair into the wig. She hid the shorn golden locks inside her shirt and ducked out the tent flap. She had to find Jethro!

  Donovan had no idea of Alysson's whereabouts, and in truth, he had given her very little thought since they had been accosted by the British man-of-war. He was barely able to contain his rage as he stood stiffly beside Brace. The British commander's name was Captain Hargrove, a short, stocky man with a complexion burnt a copper-red from sun and weather. He had peremptorily demanded the names and birthplaces of the Halcyone crew and officers, and Brace's face had been set in granite as he had handed them over. Each name was being called and the men questioned, then herded like cattle to the port rail.

  Donovan watched in silent rage, infuriated at his helplessness. It was galling to be forcibly boarded by the British now that they were so close to American waters. They were being treated as if they were rebellious subje
cts instead of Americans who had won their independence through a long and costly war.

  He stood stiffly as the passenger list was given up to the officer by Brace, and the civilians on board stepped forth docilely as their names were called. He frowned as several British seamen roughly pushed a handful of American crewmen from belowdecks where they had been sleeping after their midnight watch.

  "Alysson Tyler,” the British first lieutenant called sharply, and Donovan immediately searched among the crowd for her, hoping she wasn't frightened by the ordeal. To his utter astonishment, a very pretty, black-haired girl stepped hesitantly before them, a girl he had never seen before and who bore not the remotest resemblance to Alysson. Every muscle in his body went hard as the girl looked up at him for a brief moment, but long enough for Donovan to recognize Billy Brock. A guarded glance told him that Brace was also cognizant of the boy's disguise, and Donovan worriedly searched among the other passengers for Alysson. He stiffened in alarm when he found a very small mulatto boy standing at the front of the crowd beside his Negro driver, Jethro. Good God, he thought, comprehension dawning; for whatever reason, they were perpetrating a very dangerous charade. He put his attention back to the captain, who was looking at the disguised boy with narrowed eyes.

  "Where are you from, Miss Tyler?"

  Donovan's face bore no hint of anything amiss, but he cringed as Billy mumbled something incoherent that was barely audible. Captain Hargrove frowned, and Donovan stepped forward.

  "I beg your pardon, Captain, but the young lady is traveling with me.” He put his arm protectively around Billy's waist and drew him closer. “I am sure you know Lady Alysson's father, Lord Daniel Tyler. He is an esteemed member of Parliament and well known in London.” Hargrove's ruddy face registered first surprise, then a crafty interest, and his tone immediately took on a more respectful note. He bowed from the waist, smiling broadly at Billy.

  "Forgive me, my lady. Your father is an old acquaintance of mine. I am sorry we have inconvenienced you."

  His eyes wandered admiringly over the big blue eyes and black curls, and he grinned widely as a becoming blush rose in the fair lady's cheeks.

  "Ah, she blushes prettily, does she not, Mr. MacBride? You are fortunate, indeed, to have the honor of traveling with such a lovely companion."

  "Indeed I am,” Donovan agreed amicably, “but perhaps you would allow her to return to our stateroom. She has not been well of late. Seasickness, you understand."

  "Of course,” Captain Hargrove said with a gallant bow, and Donovan gave Billy a gentle but firm push toward the door to the passenger quarters. Billy moved away, increasing his step as he received a long and appreciative whistle from one of the British seamen lounging against the rail.

  Alysson heaved a relieved breath as Billy disappeared below, but Donovan's black eyes were fixed on her in warning as Edgar and Milton, then Rosalie and Odette were questioned, all of them keeping their eyes firmly away from Alysson.

  "Billy Brock” came the expected call a moment later, and a young officer standing just behind Captain Hargrove started visibly. He stepped forward at once.

  "Your pardon, sir, but there was a boy by that name who served aboard the Intrepid a year past. He deserted ship, sir."

  Alysson's motives became crystal clear to Donovan then, as did the very real peril into which she placed herself.

  Alysson steeled her nerves, then put a suitably frightened expression on her face, all of which was not manufactured. She stepped forward, facing the sun with her eyes half-closed.

  "You are Billy Brock?” the captain asked in surprise.

  "Yassir,” Alysson answered with voice atremble. “I be from Charlestown in de Carolinas."

  "You're very light-skinned for an African, are you not?"

  "Yassir, I is dat. Me pappy was de massa. But dis here is my cousin Jethro.” She gestured to the big black man behind her, who nodded, eyes huge and white as he twisted his cap in his hands.

  Donovan blinked at Alysson's very convincing rendition of Jethro's Southern drawl, then he stepped forward again, terrified she would say the wrong thing if she continued to chat so brazenly with the Englishman.

  "Forgive the boy's impertinence, Captain Hargrove. He was sired by one of my distant relatives, the owner of Oak Briar Plantation in Charleston. I've been trying to teach him respect for authority, but as you can see, he is still in need of discipline.” He gave Alysson a menacing frown. “Get along with you now, boy, and get back to work, before I put my boot to your backside."

  Captain Hargrove looked at Donovan a moment, then at Alysson, then at his second lieutenant.

  "Surely this is not the boy from the Intrepid, Mr. Tabert?"

  The uniformed officer shook his head quickly. “No, sir, the boy I knew was blond and curly-headed, and he spoke with the tongue of a guttersnipe."

  The captain looked down at his list again, dismissing Alysson with a wave of his hand, and she scooted away with Jethro in tow, in no need of further urging. Donovan watched her tensely until she disappeared into the door that led to the staterooms. He stood beside Brace as the British finished their search, then took their leave. The fact that Lord Tyler's daughter sailed on the Halcyone no doubt triggered their magnanimous attitude, for few American ships searched did not yield up at least one deserter, most of whom were Americans, innocent of the charge. Donovan waited until the brig had separated from the Halcyone and Brace called for full sail, then he went after Alysson. The little idiot could very easily have been hanged for an accomplice if Billy had been found out, and with each step he took to his cabin, he became angrier at her reckless behavior.

  He jerked open the stateroom door, slamming it shut after him, and Alysson whirled around from where she stood beside her bunk.

  "You little fool! Do you realize what could have happened to you out there?” he said in a growl, starting toward her. He stopped in his tracks at first sight of her cropped hair. “My God, what have you done to your hair?"

  He sounded so horrified that Alysson averted her face, self-consciously putting her hand to the back of her hair. Hot tears threatened, but she fought them back.

  "I had to help Billy. I had to cut—"

  "Of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do! Blacken your face and pose as a boy! They could have hanged you both from the yardarm, and we would have had to stand by and watch! And cutting your hair off! How could you do such a—"

  "Do you think I wanted to cut it!” Alysson cried furiously, interrupting his tirade as her own anger and regret exploded. “Do you? Do you think I want to look like this?” She held out a ragged strand of hair, then sobbed brokenly, burying her face in her hands.

  Donovan stared at her, realizing in that moment what a sacrifice she had made. He moved to her, and to his surprise, she came into his arms. She clutched at him, crying into the starched front of his shirt, and Donovan's heart twisted with compassion. What a brave and unselfish thing for her to have done for Billy! Powerful emotions were set astir in his chest, emotions that were as frightening to him as they were unwelcome, and he sat down on her bunk, drawing her onto his lap and murmuring soothing words. She wept heartbrokenly against him, and he stroked her soft red-blond hair, feeling the loss of it himself as he crushed her slight weight into his chest. After long moments, the storm of tears subsided to a low sniffling, and he took his handkerchief from inside his coat and silently handed it to her. Alysson took it, weakly leaning her head against his broad shoulder, grateful for his strength, grateful that for once there was someone willing to hold and comfort her. After a time, she got up, suddenly embarrassed.

  "You must think me very silly,” she said, very low. “To cry over my hair when it will surely grow back, when Billy could have been taken away."

  Donovan looked at her small brown-stained face as she raised her eyes to him, looked at the ragged locks hanging about her face, and a tenderness he had never known before welled up to pull at his heart. His voice was quiet.

  "I th
ink you did a very brave thing. Billy should be very grateful to you."

  "Poor Billy. He was so scared,” Alysson said. “I should go see if he is all right."

  She started across the room, then stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at him.

  "Thank you for helping us.” She hesitated. “And thank you for holding me a moment ago. It made me feel better."

  She was gone then, leaving Donovan alone. He sighed, shaking his head. Never had he wanted a woman with such irrational, obsessed single-mindedness as he wanted Alysson Tyler. He was tired of fighting his own feelings. He wanted her, and he was going to have her. She needed someone to take care of her when they arrived in New York, and it might as well be him. His mind made up, he sat down at his desk, deciding just where and when he would tell her of his decision.

  Chapter 8

  Though it was well past the midnight hour, Alysson stood alone at her favorite spot beside the carved figure of Halcyone. The moon was full and white, casting a glittery silver trail that seemed to beckon the ship to the very brink of the night sky. She looked upward to the stars, amazed at how very close they seemed when at sea. She felt the urge to reach up and try to touch them, smiling at her own fanciful thoughts.

  It was very peaceful alone in the darkness, and she closed her eyes as spindrift flew on the wind to strike her face and hair, cold and wet. She brushed it off her cheeks with her fingertips, then her hands went on to touch the shortened locks at her nape. It had been just over a week since she had cut it, and it felt very strange without the heaviness of her long hair. She heaved a deep sigh, lowering her hands to the rail as she gazed at the silver disk hanging low over the horizon.

  Tomorrow they would land in New York, and she would finally set foot upon American soil. Contemplation of that moment raised several markedly different emotions inside her heart. Anticipation, of course, but the quivery excitement was dulled by a fierce dread of the unknown. Despite her eagerness and dreams of the stage, she was starting anew, without her mother, without Mathilde and Freddie. She would be on her own with no one but herself on whom to depend. Would she like it there? Would life be good to her, or would she find the same suffering and unhappiness she had left behind in England?