“A remarkably clever child, Lorena. I have always said so.”
“Don’t encourage him, George.” She retied the cravat, attempting to make Drew presentable for the third time that morning. “I know you’ve been calling Papa’s client a pirate in front of him and I don’t approve.”
“I make it a point to research vessels of any notoriety,” George went on without acknowledgment of her protest, “and the Rhode Island schooner Black Eagle gained a considerable amount of recognition during the war. Under Captain Talvis’s command, she brought home some twenty-nine prizes for her owners. I was curious as to whether the schooner’s success in outwitting British warships was owing perhaps to her skillful design or rigging.” His left hand held the reins, while with his right he reached into his waistcoat pocket to produce a sheet of newsprint. “The Providence Gazette and County Journal recorded the exploits of the Black Eagle with some frequency. Here, read for yourself.”
Drew reached for the newspaper clipping, but Lorena was quicker. She felt compelled by more than curiosity to learn as much as possible about the daring seafarer who’d invaded her life yesterday morning and had been monopolizing her energies since.
As the two-wheeled vehicle rumbled over the country road, her gaze sought the passage and she read aloud, “‘That three and sixty tons of trifling fishing schooner should successfully capture and carry to its home port of Bristol, Rhode Island, three vessels of sail amounting to over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars in prizes would seem impossible were it not already documented fact. All this the privateer Black Eagle accomplished in but one cruise of fourteen days’ duration under the command of its master marauder, Captain Brogan Talvis. Surely England takes note and proceeds across the seas with caution for his presence.’”
“There, Lorena, can you not agree that a man who has earned himself the reputation of a ‘master marauder’ knows how to use his resources to get what he wants?” George turned and bore his gaze into hers.
Lorena felt a stab of pride at the captain’s courage and daring. Perhaps it was George’s disloyalty to his country that rendered Captain Talvis appealing in contrast. “I can’t disagree with you, George. He’s resourceful. What, pray, do you believe he’s after?”
“You, Lorena. You!” He spoke as though in grave warning.
“Me?” She laughed aloud. “What would the man want with me?”
“Dear girl, you are quite naive. I beg you to reconsider coming to England with me.”
“As I’ve told you numerous times, George, I have no intention of leaving Duxboro.”
“Well, I have no intention of staying.”
Brogan arrived at Nathaniel Huntley’s estate only to discover Lorena had ridden ahead in a friend’s carriage.
The girl had outmaneuvered him. She’d taken Drew with her.
He’d hoped to speak with them during the drive to meetinghouse. To that end, Jabez had remained behind so that Brogan could have them all to himself. Instead, here he sat in Huntley’s carriage, alone with the shipbuilder, silently stewing and vaguely aware of the man beside him.
Huntley’s sights were directed on his team of bays. “You’re unusually quiet, Captain. Is it in reverence to the day, or do you ponder our lively discussion of last evening? I myself have been earnestly considering your recommendation of basing a shipping enterprise and shipyard in Boston.”
Brogan turned to regard him. Engaging this fellow in conversation about anything other than business proved a tiresome feat. After supper, Mr. Huntley had taken both Jabez and himself into the study for tea. Try as he might, Brogan had been unable to steer their discussion away from the shipping trade. So he resigned himself to the man. What else could he do? As with Lorena, he needed to gain Mr. Huntley’s goodwill.
“I believe it to be a sound endeavor, sir. Your shipyard could easily supply the necessary fleet and your farms provision them. As for a new shipyard—well, the larger vessels of the future will require a deeper harbor than Duxboro Bay, as you admitted yourself with my own merchantman.”