Twenty-Three
Thad figured he was either daft or brilliant. As he lowered his spyglass and turned to Henry, he wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that if he got out of Bermuda alive and with none of his men impressed, it would be due solely to the Lord. And if he didn’t…then may his family remember him for how well he loved them and not for the madness of this endeavor.
The Union Jack snapping in the balmy breeze on his mainmast, meant to give credence to his claim of being a British merchant, did little to put him at ease. Not given the fact that it was surrounded by twenty other identical flags on ships a great deal larger than his, all lined up prettily in Bailey’s Bay and filled to bursting with soldiers, marines, and sailors.
Thad heaved a long breath and eased closer to Henry’s side. “Did anyone see you coming out here?”
Henry smiled as if it were just another run out of the Chesapeake and lowered one of the sacks of flour he had carried aboard while more Negroes from a second rowboat brought up other supplies. “No one looks twice at a black man laboring like a black man does. Just like no one looked twice at me in that tavern, being as I had a broom in my hand.”
Thad wanted to shudder but continued staring out as if unconcerned with anything Henry said. “If Emmy knew I let you go in there, she would skin me alive.”
“Then tan your hide and make a pair of boots out of it so she could stomp on you. But Emmy don’t need to know.” He held out a hand. “You wanna pay me for these supplies, mister?”
Thad folded his arms across his chest. “I appreciate the dedication to your cover, but try again. What did you learn?”
Henry leaned in, as if arguing with him. “Captain Crofton of the Dictator been loose tongued enough that everyone knows the ships what arrived here a few days ago be bound to America. But there’s some kind of question of who’s in charge. See those ships coming in now?”
See them? Thad had done little but worry over them since they had appeared on the horizon. Twenty vessels were already here, poised to descend on his country. Did they really need half a dozen more?
“Word is they carry three Regiments of Foot under the command of a major general who outranks Ross, who came in with the first bunch. They intend to figure it out and meet with Cochrane on the Tonnant to plan and organize.”
Thad glanced toward the newcomers again. Another hour, maybe two before they would set anchor. Then he had no doubt this major general would come quickly to shore to assert his authority. And that General Ross, whom Thad had already made it a point to identify, would be quick to try to maintain his.
Some things were universal, no matter the color of coat one wore.
“All right. Good work, Henry. When they make port, I shall happen to be ashore to overhear them.”
Henry straightened again. “You need me to do any more, you let me know. I gotta go back with those fellas, but I’ll sneak onto the Masquerade after nightfall.”
Thad nodded and strode away, his mind skipping over the sooner meeting in anticipation of the one further off. How was he going to discover what was discussed with Admiral Cochrane? He headed aft to the one spot on the Masquerade from which he could catch a glimpse of the vice admiral’s flagship. Tonnant sat at anchor on the other side of port, looking proud and stately and deserving of her name of “thundering.”
Thad closed his eyes against the sea of red jackets milling about on the decks dotting the water. Father God, guide me along this perilous way. Put my feet upon each step You would have me take, and bar me from any against Your will. He savored the breath he drew in, heavy with salt and the tang of fish. God of my end, you know how I love my country, how I want to serve it in this way You have put before me. I believe with a whole heart that You have purpose yet for the United States that can be achieved only through the freedom to which we cling. So help me, God of my fathers, to help her. And bring me safely home again.
The mere thought of home was enough to bring the images to his mind. Not so much the places, though they served as backdrops. But the people. The farmers and merchants and smithies all laboring to build a legacy for their offspring. The fishermen who could weave a yarn like no other, the trappers who had explored the great unknown to the west, the lawyers who philosophized on what their land could be with the proper guidance. The strangers who could someday be friends.
And his family. Mother and Father, Amelia and Jacob, Philly and Reggie, Arnaud and Jack. And Gwyneth. Dear Lord, Gwyneth. More words than that would not come, though his spirit called out still on her behalf as it had so often during the five days since he’d left. How could he give utterance to all that filled him at the thought of her? Hope and fear, love and regret. And that constant, soul-deep prayer that God would wrap her in His arms.