Jamie had learned from Lamech Folger, his uncle, mentor and East Florida partner, that full and friendly cooperation was the only way to appease these officious British captains. As the uniformed, thirtyish man climbed over the gunwale, Jamie smiled and tipped his broad-brimmed hat. “Welcome aboard, Captain. Jamie Templeton, at your service.”
Flanked by several armed officers and perhaps fifteen sailors, the red-haired man eyed Jamie up and down. “I am Captain Reading of the HMS Pride. I see you are flying the Union Jack and Lord Bennington’s flag.” He glanced toward the top of the mainmast. “However, in these uncertain times, such symbols might be a ploy. You will understand that it is my responsibility to make certain no arms or contraband are aboard your vessel.”
“Yes, sir, I do.” Jamie thought the man looked reasonable enough, but one officer behind him wore a sneer, and the sailors, armed with cudgels, glared around the ship. A twinge of nausea struck Jamie, and he prayed their captain would not decide to press members of the Fair Winds’ crew into service. “You will find a large volume of goods in our hold, sir. We sail to East Florida, where my business partner, Lord Bennington, expects to make a tidy profit among the Loyalists who are fleeing all that nonsense in the northern colonies.” Should he offer this man his choice of the goods as a bribe?
The captain’s left eyebrow flickered briefly. “We will search your vessel, sir, with your permission.”
Jamie covered his anger with a coughing chuckle. This treatment was one of the many reasons for the Revolution, this unreasonable searching of ships. “Of course. I would expect nothing less from His Majesty’s navy.” He gave a quick little nod to confirm his words. “This is how you keep us all safe. May I show you around?”
Reading’s eyes narrowed. “No, thank you, sir. My men know what to do.”
Despite his growing rage, Jamie managed another smile. “Very well, sir. I am your servant.”
Reading motioned to his men, and his three officers took several sailors each to search various parts of the ship, including below deck. The captain then glanced around the main deck. “We have lost several of our crew to unfortunate accidents, and require replacements. You may ask for volunteers or select them yourself. If you choose not to cooperate, I will make my own selections.”
Raw fear cut into Jamie’s chest. He would die for any of his men, but who else would die if he resisted this demand? And what of the ladies’ safety? “Sir, I have a letter from Lord Bennington, also signed by Captain Thomas Moberly, of the HMS Dauntless. These should exempt my crew from impressments.” Now he would learn just how powerful his former patron was.
After a brief, startled blink, Reading snorted. “You have notable protectors, Captain Templeton. How shall I know the signatures are not forgeries?”
Jamie faked a lighthearted shrug. “I don’t know, sir. But if you’ll permit my first mate to fetch my papers...” He beckoned to Saunders, who always kept his head during these boardings.
“Very well.” Reading gave a curt nod.
Saunders scampered below deck and within minutes returned with a brown leather satchel. Striding close to the British captain, he gave him a gap-toothed grin. “Here ye go, sir.”
Leaning away with lips curled, the captain took the satchel. “That will be all.” He set it on a nearby crate and untied the strings, drawing out the life-saving documents. His eyebrows arched as he read through them. “Impressive, indeed. Yes, I recognize Lord Bennington’s seal.” He frowned as he kept reading. “So Bennington’s son has been made a captain. A good man, Thomas Moberly. But I see nothing here exempting your crew from impressments.”
His heart hammering almost out of his chest, Jamie considered his options. The men had practiced what to do in case of pirate attacks, but they would have little defense against a forty-gun ship with sailors who were trained for warfare. Yet every person on this sloop had been entrusted to his care, a fact that gave him no other choice. He leveled a solemn gaze upon the British captain. “Captain Reading, I am not prepared to part with any of my crew.”
Marianne was pleased to see Molly come to the cabin and take charge. After covering the single porthole, the five ladies huddled silently together in the locked, darkened room. Above them and in the companionway beyond the door, heavy footsteps thumped against the decks, while an occasional clunk of wood against wood sounded through the walls. Marianne felt Nancy tremble beside her, and drew the slender young girl into her arms. “Shh. It will be all right.” Despite Jamie’s—Captain Templeton’s—betrayal, she knew him to be a competent captain. And of course the British captain would be reasonable and no doubt send them on their way once he had seen Papa’s letter.
For the briefest moment, Marianne considered whether she should break out of this cabin and confess everything to her countryman. But Quince’s words weighed heavy upon her heart. While Captain Templeton and even Quince might deserve to hang, she could not reconcile seeing these ladies’ husbands likewise punished. An image of their captain strung up on a gibbet flitted into her mind and cut deep into her. Lord, forgive me, but I love him still. Yet he was a traitor to all she held dear, and every word he had spoken to her had been a lie.
Sudden pounding on the door startled her, and beside her Nancy jumped. “Open up, or we’ll break down the door.”
More trembling and several quiet sobs shook the women around Marianne.
“Mind yourselves, ladies,” Molly whispered. “Remember what we’re to do.”
Marianne could hear footsteps shuffle across the dark room. A click of the bolt, another click of the latch, and Molly swung the door open.
A snarling sailor stuck a lantern inside, and his shadowed face took on a grotesque sneer. “Well, well, what have we here?” Behind him, two other sailors stuck their heads around the doorjamb, leering into the dark and making crude comments.
Molly tried to hold her place and block them from entering, but they shoved her aside.
“I’ll take this one.” The first sailor grabbed for Nancy, yanking her up from the cot. The other men laughed.
A bolt of rage and protectiveness flashed through Marianne. “How dare you?” She stood and dug her fingernails into the man’s bare hand. “Let her go.”
He yelped and then drew back his hand to strike Marianne.
“Stop!” An officer holding another lantern entered the low doorway.
The first sailor cursed and stepped back. “Aye, sir.” His wolflike growl sent a shudder down Marianne’s spine.
“What is this?” The officer’s face glowered in the shadowed cabin. “Who are you women?”
“Sir,” Molly said, “we are Christian ladies accompanying our husbands to East Florida.”
Like the first sailor, the officer sneered. “Ladies, indeed.”
“Yes, ladies, indeed.” Marianne pushed in front of Molly. “I am Lady Marianne Moberly, daughter of Lord Bennington, under whose flag this ship sails.” She heard the gasps around her and knew these gentlewomen would never regard her in the same way again. Yet she would still be their friend. Whatever lie she must tell, Lord forgive her, she would save them from these sailors, even if it also meant saving that scoundrel, Jamie Templeton.
The officer raised a questioning eyebrow and his mouth hung open for an instant. Marianne lifted her chin and gave him an imperious glare. He lowered his lantern and bent forward in a deep bow. “My lady, may I have the privilege of escorting you to the upper deck?”
Air. The thought of it almost undid Marianne. But she managed to maintain her hauteur. “You may, my good sir, but only if these ladies are permitted to accompany me. I will not have my friends left to the care of your sailors.”
The man had the grace to look abashed. “Yes, my lady.”
He offered his arm, and she set her hand upon it, praying for wisdom to say the right thing to his superior. Praying for the strength not to look at her erstwhile love, now her nemesis. Was there some way she could alert the British captain that Templeton was a spy and might be carrying secrets to the rebelling colonists in Boston? Nothing came to mind, but she felt certain the Lord would show her exactly what to do.
Coming out into the daylight for the first time in over a week, Marianne winced and blinked, shading her eyes with both hands while the ocean breeze caressed her face and filled her lungs with salty air. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back to see Molly, her eyes filled with fear and hope, holding forth a much-mended black parasol.
“Thank you, Molly.” Marianne accepted the gift, offered perhaps to gain her favor in protecting Molly’s husband from being impressed. Marianne chided herself for such a suspicious thought. But the revelations of these past few hours had utterly destroyed her starry-eyed foolishness. She raised the parasol and found relief from the sun’s glare.
Surveying the scene, she noticed the officer who had escorted her on deck had moved toward his captain, a man of medium height who looked familiar. Beyond them, she saw the Fair Winds crew standing in a straight line, while several British sailors perused them as if searching for the right horse to buy. Or the right slave. The anger and fear in the Americans’ faces sent a troubled pang through her heart. So this is the reality of impressments. Marianne shuddered to think what it would be like to be torn from one’s friends and forced into an enemy’s service.
“Lady Marianne.” The captain strode toward her, a wide smile on his freckled face. “What a surprise to find you sailing—”
“Under my father’s flag?” She did not return his smile or offer her hand. “Good day, Captain Reading. It has been some time since my brother introduced us when you both received your commissions as lieutenants.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I shall write to him and describe this meeting.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Reading stiffened. “We are simply doing our duty to king and country, my lady.”
“Indeed. And when does that duty include stealing my father’s servants right off of his business partner’s ship?” The words came out unplanned, but now she could not give Templeton away without betraying the entire crew. “Do you not realize that this ship carries official mail to the governor of East Florida? Through an act of Parliament, that duty exempts its crew from impressments.” If she had not overheard Thomas discussing it with Papa, she never would have known of the law.
Reading tilted his head in a patronizing nod. “My lady, although your esteemed father is this captain’s patron, the ship is still an American vessel, not a British mail packet. The law does not apply in this case.”
Marianne answered his look with a glare while she considered his words. She would not lose her battle with this intractable man.
The British sailors now dragged away two men, one of whom must be married to Sally, for Marianne heard the girl sobbing behind her. The violence of the sailors toward the hapless men, one of whom was a sweet-faced boy she had seen in the hallway outside the ladies’ cabin, seemed entirely unwarranted in light of the two men’s cooperation. Perhaps they sought to sacrifice themselves for their fellows. As a British sailor lifted his club to strike, Sally wailed.
“Stop, this instant!” Marianne marched across the deck. “How dare you? Release these men immediately, or you will regret it all your days.”
The sailors obeyed, but one had the audacity to leer at her before looking toward his captain. Marianne turned back to Captain Reading. “In the name of King George and Lord Bennington—” she modulated her voice into a lower register and used a cold, hard tone, as Papa did when giving orders “—release them.”
The shock that swept across the men’s faces, both British and American, amused her. While of course she possessed no authority over these men, they had no idea how much or little influence she might actually wield with their superiors. As for Captain Templeton, he puckered a smile and winked away the glint in his eyes. His slight nod, like many that had secretly conveyed his feelings for her these past months, sent a tingle through her traitorous body.
“Captain Reading.” Marianne sauntered back toward him, thrown slightly off balance when a swell lifted the ship, but quickly regaining her footing. Another approving nod came from Captain Templeton, but she did not acknowledge it. “If you hope to advance any further in your naval career, I suggest you do not make me unhappy. It may take months, it may take years, but my father, the Admiralty and His Majesty’s Privy Council will hear of your treatment of the men who have been assigned the duty to protect me.”
Captain Reading clenched his jaw and glared at her for what seemed an eternity. At last, he shrugged and waved his men away from their captives, then swept off his bicorne and bent toward her in an exaggerated bow. “Your servant, my lady.” He spun around and barked orders at his crew to leave.
The British sailors clambered into their small boats, but Marianne would not let herself breathe until the last man had returned to His Majesty’s man-of-war.