The Beloved Land (31 page)
“Ho!” the lookout called down from the crow’s nest, then pointed out to shore. “A trio of shore craft are headed this way!”
“Silence!” Even the Acadians understood Gordon’s tone and stopped in place. Gordon called topside, “What manner of men?”
There was a long pause, then the reply, “I can’t make out much in this light … muskets! I see muskets, sir!”
“You are certain?”
“Aye, Skipper! A detachment of soldiers with bayonets fixed!”
“All hands!” Gordon shouted. “Make sail!”
Henri called a question, and Gordon turned quickly to Nicole.
“He says there is still the one vessel to—”
“Tell your father to climb aboard. With all haste! Carter!”
“Here, sir.”
“Lash one of the skiffs to the stern for the pilot. Nicole, ask their most experienced pilot to remain and mark our way out of the channel. The rest of them are to scatter to the winds!” Gordon wheeled about. “Weigh anchor! Make course for open water and north!”
When the news began to filter into Georgetown, it was mostly discounted. The reports were too farfetched, the possible results too far ranging. Besides, a place as remote as Georgetown was a hotbed of rumors. Actual news was so slow in arriving, those who hungered after word from the outside world often accepted speculation and spoke it around enough to make it fact. Thus many households, Catherine and Andrew’s among them, preferred not to hear spoken reports at all. Not only was it more reliable, it kept the outside threats at bay. At least, it had worked in this fashion most of the time.
But two weeks after the hearing and Thomas’s ruling, the market stirred with an undercurrent of uncertainty. Virtually all the English were also loyalists. Even the Dissenters who had recently emigrated saw themselves as subjects of the Crown, so long as the king lived up to his God-given responsibilities.
Over Friday’s dinner Catherine finally ventured, “You know, Andrew, it is not my custom to bring home market rumors.”
Both Thomas’s and Andrew’s faces took on pained expressions. Anne spoke up before they could object. “I am so glad you decided to say something, Mother. If you had not, I would.”
“There has been nothing from Halifax,” Andrew stated. He had resumed his monitoring of the broadsheets and papers brought in on the weekly wagons.
“That might be expected,” Catherine replied, “if the news 244 was not good.”
It was as much her tone, and the guarded expression to her face, as what she said. The four sat in silence a long moment before Thomas offered, “Perhaps I should take a turn with you through the market tomorrow.”
“We would be most grateful,” Anne replied as Catherine nodded.
When the three set out the next morning, a chill breeze blew in off the headlands, carrying with it enough sea damp to turn Anne’s cloak leaden. Even Thomas turned up his collar against the chill. The surrounding summer greens were cloaked in a windblown mist, while overhead rolled wave after wave of slate clouds.
Their arrival at the market’s border caused a hush, as it had whenever Thomas had appeared since the assembly. But he took it in stride, walking among them and offering warm greetings to all he recognized. Gradually the normal bustle returned, though the group remained surrounded by a respectful quiet.
Thomas said to Catherine, “If you had to choose one person here whose word you could trust, who would that be?”
She must have anticipated the question. She answered immediately, “The greengrocer Adams. They drive their own cart to Halifax and back twice a week.”
“He is an elder in the church, is he not?”
“Yes, Mr. Adams is an elder.”
“Ah yes, there he is. I recognize him now.” Thomas doffed his hat. “A very good morning to you, Mr. Adams.”
“Why, if it isn’t the magistrate himself. And his lovely wife. And Mrs. Harrow.” The man’s face shone bright despite the dull day. “To what do I owe this honor? I do hope no one is out for my place in the square!” he added in jest.
“No, nothing like that.” Thomas paused, then said, “A reminder that I am not a magistrate.”
“Magistrate or reverend, sir, you may take your pick.” The man leaned over the boxes of squash and sweet potatoes. “And Georgetown is fortunate to have you as both, your honor, sir.If you don’t mind my saying. Especially in such times as these.”
Anne said, “We have been hearing the most unlikely of rumors.”
“Were they only rumors, Missus. Were they indeed,” he answered in dark tones.
Thomas asked, “What have you heard?”
“I ain’t one to be spreading tales, sir.”
“Indeed so. You personally were suggested to me as a reliable source.”
“I do thank you. Well, sir, I had been catching wind of this and that for several weeks now. So when I had a chance to speak to the captain of a newly arrived ship, I took it.”
“What did you learn?”
The greengrocer lowered his voice. “Defeat, sir.”
Thomas stepped closer while Anne and Catherine listened in shock. “Where?”
“That’s the problem in a nutshell. It wasn’t just one battle, nor just one place.”
“You’re saying the colonials have the British army in retreat?”
“I am, sir. And not just the army. There’s been battles at sea as well. Off places I’d never heard of, and some I have. The blockade of New York’s been broken. Charlestown has been overrun and the harbor opened to American ships.”
“Impossible!”
“Aye, I’d have said the same thing. Only it’s not just the one man who’s told me this. Three ships now I’ve spoken with, and the word’s all been the same. The tide’s turned, sir. Turned against the Crown with all its might. Right from the Carolinas up to Boston, the British are in retreat.”
Thomas pondered what he had heard. “I suppose that could explain why printed news has been so sparse these past few weeks.”
“My last trip in, there was two hulks brought to Halifax harbor from the Boston blockade. I couldn’t call them ships, on account of how they’d been blackened and blasted.”
“The colonials are defeating the British navy?”
“Aye, it shocked me as well, that sight did. Never thought I’d see the day when the British were anything but victorious at sea. But there it was, right before my very eyes. I spoke with one of the sailors. The man told me they barely escaped with their lives!”
When the three arr ived back at the cottage, Anne announced to Andrew and John, “We have learned news, or what we think might be news.”
Andrew nodded once. “The war?”
“The news is not good.” Anne turned to her husband while Catherine went to sit beside Andrew.
“I would prefer to wait if I could,” Thomas began, “until we can hear from at least one more witness. But matters are pressing hard and must be discussed.” Swiftly Thomas outlined what they had learned from the greengrocer.
Andrew’s brow creased. “I agree that matters are serious. But this news has been floating around for weeks. Months, even.”
“Indeed so. Which makes the matter even more urgent.”
“I don’t understand,” Andrew said.
Anne felt her breath catch in her throat. She moved to slip her arm through Thomas’s. “Nor do I.”
He turned to his wife. “My dear, it is us.”
“Yes, of course,” Catherine said, her tone urgent. “You are right.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew said. “I am still failing to understand.”
Thomas addressed the group but looked at Anne. “This is not the matter of one lost battle. It is the war itself. Not now, perhaps, but soon.”
“Yes?”
“Think on this. If Britain is defeated, they do not merely lose the colonies. They have been driven from these seas.” He let that sink in for a moment, then concluded, “How then should we go home?”
“My baby!” Anne breathed the words, a hand at her heart.
“Exactly,” Thomas somberly agreed. “We must hasten.”
“Excuse me, sir. I am looking for the Reverend Collins. …”
The little man with bright eyes peered up at Anne intently. “I am he. And whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
Anne thought he fit Nicole’s description perfectly. Just seeing him here made her sister’s letters come alive, inviting both a smile and pleasant recollections. But there was no room for humor this day.
Before she could respond, the pastor gave a start. “Bless my soul.”
“Pardon me?”
He set down the tray he was carrying and stepped closer. “Might you be Catherine and Andrew’s daughter?”
“I am, sir. But how—”
Her words were cut off by the pastor’s cry and warm embrace.
When he released her, Pastor Collins’s eyes were wet with tears. “What a joy and a blessing, my child.”
He took her by the elbow. “Come, my dear. Anne, that is your name, is it not?”
“Indeed, sir. Anne Crowley.”
“Of course, of course. Nicole told me you had married your young man.”
“Is … is Nicole here?”
“Oh, my dear, no. She and Gordon are off on a mission for the commandant. Traveling by ship to the southern colonies.”
“Yes. New Orleans, I know. I had hoped …” Anne allowed herself to be ushered to a chair by the dining room’s main window. “How did you know who I was?”
“My dear, Nicole has spoken of you so often and at such length I feel I might count you among my own kin.” His eyes vanished into folds as he chuckled. “That was not the first time I have held you in my arms, as a matter of fact. When you still were in your swaddling robes, your father came here to study.” Pastor Collins cocked his head to the other side. “I am happy to see that you have become as lovely a woman as you were a little child.”
He had such a warm smile she felt her heart aching for the inability to respond in kind. “Forgive me, sir. I wish I could be more joyful over this meeting. I have heard so much about you. Father and Mother and Nicole all think the world of you.”
“They are too kind, too kind. Will you have tea?”
“Thank you, no.”
He settled himself into the chair opposite her. “You are sorely distressed.”
“Indeed so.”
“Is there anything I can do to assist you?”
“I do not see how. But I did not know where else to turn.” She could no longer hold back the tears. Anne pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Forgive me.”
“Perhaps if you were to tell me the trouble.”
“There are so many I do not even know where to begin.”
“Ah. That is the problem with problems, is it not? How they all seem to gather and press in upon one from all sides.”
His sympathetic understanding only caused more tears.
“Please, begin with what lies most heavily upon your heart,” he suggested.
“My son,” she managed.
“From your first marriage. Cyril, that was your husband’s name, yes?”
She swallowed and breathed as steadily as she could manage. “Your knowledge of my family is remarkable, sir.”
“Andrew is like a son to me, and Nicole like a beloved granddaughter.” He settled his hands into his lap, the portrait of a patient listener. “Where is your son now?”
“In England. And that is the problem!”
His features turned grave. “You were berthed on the vessel captured just night before last—”
“Indeed we were.”
Slowly Pastor Collins shook his head. “I am so sorry, my dear.”
Anne opened her mouth to recount the dreadful event, but the vivid memory was so frightening she could not speak.
“You were fired upon.” The pastor shook his head. “I can scarcely imagine …”
One moment she had been asleep belowdecks in her bunk, lulled by the creaking timbers and the thought of sailing steadily toward her beloved son. The next, and the night was ripped asunder by flames and blasts and screams. The first cannonade took out their central mast. The wooden timbers crashed amidships with a thunder as loud as the cannons. Thomas snatched her from the bed and flung her to the floorboards, then covered her with his body. Overhead shrieked the panic and pain and fear of the world’s very end.
The four American ships had laid well off and shouts across the waters told them that the British ship must strike its colors or they would sink her outright. The harsh warning was made all the more imminent by the smells of sulfur and charred wood.
Anne shuddered. “We were asleep in the central hold when it seemed as though the entire world turned to fire.”
“The hold? Forgive me, I do not understand. You are the heiress to the earl of Sutton, do I not recall that correctly?”
“Actually, it is my son who has the birthright. But we traveled from England under assumed names, and my husband—”
“Thought it best to return the same way. In humble surroundings, with all the other passengers.” Pastor Collins’s eyes opened wide and he leaned toward her. “I don’t suppose you realize that this is why we are speaking at all now.”
“I don’t follow you, sir.”
“Were they to have known who you are, my dear, they would have imprisoned you and your husband and held you for ransom.”
Anne’s head dropped in defeat. “But I must return—”
“Where are you residing now?” Pastor Collins asked.
“At the Four Roses Inn.”
“You would be safer here, where there is less risk of your true identity being discovered. It is modest but clean.”