Thad chuckled as he slid his spyglass closed. “True as that is, and much as part of me would love to play the menace, we need to get back. This information will be helpful to our military.”
Michaels snorted. “Assuming they listen, you mean. A grand assumption, if you ask me.”
“They will listen. This time they will.” They must. If they didn’t…well, then the entire region would pay for it, as they would for their months—nay, years—of refusal to prepare for the coming attacks.
Because this would be more than another raid. If Cochrane and Ross gave Cockburn his way, which they had sounded inclined to do while Thad treaded water by the hull of the Tonnant last night, then Washington City would be the next target. As soon as this newly arrived fleet made its way from Bermuda, they would plan the attack.
Assuming it took them another week where they were, then a week to organize in America, that meant two weeks after Thad reached home with the news to get everyone ready. Two weeks to strengthen their early warning method of keeping abreast of British activities. Two weeks to fortify and position troops. To call up troops.
A chill swept through him despite the balmy early August breeze. God of my end, my nation rests in Your hands. Deliver us.
As if in response, a gust of wind blasted by and sped them over another wave.
“I’m going to check my charts.” Thad gave Michaels a pat on the shoulder and strode toward his cabin. Henry was already inside, his gaze not on the navigation charts but on the map of the Eastern Seaboard. “Plotting where to bury your treasure?”
His friend offered him a wide grin. “Oh, I buried that long ago.” He turned back to the map and tapped the area along the Patuxent. “The system Smith set up under Barney ought to work well enough if we fortify it.”
“I have been thinking the same thing.” They had a reliable enough way of conveying information on the British movements. Cannons and guns were fired by one town as soon as the enemy came near, and tracking that from village to village gave the next one advance warning of their coming. And for more specific information, they had mounted couriers to take messages from one observation station to the next.
Thad had assisted in the construction of it months ago. He would put all the members on alert as soon as he got home, especially in the areas between the British’s current location and the capital city. As soon as the enemy moved that way, messages would begin to fly.
But as Michaels had wondered, would the politicians listen?
Thad shook his head. “I am not surprised they are considering Cockburn’s plan, yet I cannot quite believe they would do it. Tactically, it makes no sense. Winning Washington will accomplish them nothing in terms of position.”
Henry tilted his head to the side. “Ain’t you the one who said this war isn’t about gaining strategic positions?”
“Too true. ’Tis about destroying American morale—nothing more and nothing less. Dividing us. And they think destroying our capital will defeat our spirits.”
Henry’s lips twitched into another grin. “More the fools, them.”
Thad smiled back. “They have obviously not heard that their similar attack on the city of Hampton has become a rallying cry.”
“Still.” Henry nodded toward the map again. “Best to try to head them off and keep them away from the cities and townsfolk.”
No doubt the generals would have the same thought and would seek to meet them well outside the city. “Let us hope we have the strength to do so. Unfortunately, the newspaper articles that have convinced Cockburn we are weak enough to make this a viable plan are not mistaken.”
“There’s still time to strengthen.”
But enough? “Let us hope so.” Just as he would have to hope that there would be time enough to strengthen the foundations of his own house. To resolve the issues with Arnaud. With Gwyneth. To convince them both that they hadn’t the leisure to indulge in bitterness. Not when Washington was a target and Baltimore could easily be the next.
Thad could feel it, the coming wave of war. Feel it mounting on the horizon like a hurricane. They would all have to batten down the hatches of their defenses and of their lives because there would be no avoiding the thick of things. Not if they intended to hold on to their liberties. Even if that meant a certain risk to their lives.
Gwyneth’s face filled his vision again, and he shut his eyes to better see it. Was she well? Sleepless again? Would he return to that shadowed shell, one filled with anger with him instead of the horror of her loss? That need that hit him last night, that had kept him praying for two solid hours…
“She’s all right.” Henry gripped his arm and gave him a tiny shake. “You felt the peace last night like I did after we prayed. You wait and see. My Emmy’s there, and you know well she can set the world to rights with one bat of her pretty eyes.”
Laughter brought Thad’s eyes open again. “I don’t doubt it. Still, I worry for her. Does that ever stop?”