The Courier of Caswell Hall (27 page)

Elisha sat down beside him. “Are you thinking about her?”

He glanced over with surprise. “About whom?”

“Miss Lydia, of course. Neither of you can fool me.”

Elisha’s words dawned slowly on him. “How is Lydia fooling you?”

“Seth Hammond is a good man, but he ain’t good for her.”

Nathan looked back at the water. “I would not be good for her either.”

“Now, I don’t know about that. It seems to me you got a heart about as big as she does.”

A light blinked on the bay waters.

He elbowed Elisha. “Did you see that?”

“I believe I did.”

They watched it blink again in the rain and then two more times.

It was the signal that the boat had arrived.

“Wait here,” Nathan told Elisha and the two privates. He had to make sure it was safe before he put all their lives in jeopardy.

He scrambled from the cave and hurried down to the shore. With the tide lapping against the rocks, he couldn’t hear the rhythm of oars or the sound of voices, but his eyes searched the darkness over the water.

The light blinked thrice again, but this time it was much closer.

“Who are you?” he whispered into the darkness.

“A friend of the great king,” a voice replied. “And I hope your friend as well.”

“Aye,” Nathan said. “I am your friend.”

Then he heard the sharp
swish
of oars cutting through the bay waters and saw an outline of a rowboat pressing toward the sandy shore.

The man at the helm of the boat wore a tricorn hat dipped low over his forehead, and the moment his boat ran ashore, he stepped onto the sand.

Nathan held his musket at his side. “What is your name?”

“Porter.” The man spoke so low that his voice blended in with the lapping of water. “And you are?”

“Nathan.”

Porter responded with a sharp nod. “We have a delivery for your men.”

Elisha guarded the cave while he, Lemuel, and Benjamin retrieved the supplies conveyed from the schooner by the rowboat. In the darkness, they helped five of Porter’s men unload barrels of ammunition, crates with muskets, and bags with flour and coffee. Micah drove the wagon full of supplies up the hill, ten yards from the cave, and the team of men transported the supplies up to Elisha in the hiding place.

They worked in silence for hours, the rain making mud out of their tracks as they loaded the wagon and then unloaded the supplies by a dim light in one of the cave’s side chambers. They each knew that they had to be finished before dawn, when the British could see their ship close to the shore. It wouldn’t be long now before Porter and his men would have to leave, under the cover of darkness and rain. They couldn’t risk being caught at dawn—for the sake of their ship and the supplies.

Nathan took a damp crate from Lemuel, and it rattled as he hauled it to the room at the back of the cave. Elisha had stuffed supplies high against the wall—there were barrels of flour and salted meat alongside crates that carried bottles of cherries and drink. He knew the supplies would dwindle quickly once the army reached York, but it seemed to him that there was enough food and ammunition for ten thousand men.

Nathan stepped back toward the mouth of the cave, and he heard someone shout down by the water. He cringed at the break in their silence. He had to quiet the man before the British heard them. Their lives—and the colony of Virginia—were relying on their stealth.

He rushed to the mouth of the cave, but instead of jumping outside, he listened for a moment. The crack of a musket ricocheted through the rain, and it felt as if his insides ripped into two as well.

Elisha swore.

Nathan reached for his musket, but he didn’t leave the cave. If the British found Porter’s ship, they would search for the supplies. Nathan needed to guard them with his life.

There were more sounds of muskets and men shouting.

He despised the sound of mayhem.

He and Elisha sat inside the mouth of the cave with their muskets loaded, waiting for the British to come up the hill. He wouldn’t cower, but he would do everything he could to protect the supplies.

The shouts continued for a few more minutes, and then as quickly as the shouts came, they dissipated like vapor.

He strained his ears, trying to hear what was happening below them.

Then he heard voices not far from the mouth of the cave. A small group of men with British accents were talking about the supplies found in the wagon. They weren’t using a lantern, and he was grateful of it. If they looked up the hill, they would discover a whole trove of food and ammunition.

The rain fell harder, and Nathan held his breath, afraid that even the sound of his breathing would alert them to his position. He and Elisha might be able to fight this group, but he had no idea how many soldiers were behind them.

The men’s voices began to fade, and Nathan breathed in the cool air.

What happened to Micah and the other men?

“You’d best stay here,” Nathan said as he stepped outside the cave.

Elisha placed his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “The general said to protect you—”

“It is more important to protect these supplies.”

Gray light began to seep over the horizon as Nathan hopped down to the ground. He carefully skirted through the tall grasses until he was five yards from the shore. Scanning the beach, he saw no sign of British soldiers nor of the wagon that had carried the last of their supplies. The schooner was gone as well.

But there was something lying on the sand, at the edge of the water. He rushed forward to see what the British left behind.

His stomach turned.

They didn’t leave something behind. They left someone.

Micah lay face down in the water, the tide rushing over his back. Nathan rolled him over, but there was no breath left in him.

Nathan sat down on the beach and pressed his fists against his forehead.

He hated war, hated the lives lost for no reason, hated that young men passionate about doing right were swept away at the onset of their lives.

Light illuminated the beach now. He couldn’t stay any longer, not even to bury this soldier.

He scanned the murky water for Lemuel and Benjamin—and the crew of the schooner—but it seemed as if they had disappeared. Would the redcoats return this morning to search the area? For the sake of those soldiers who remained alive and the colonists who were relying on him, he must act quickly.

The rain fell harder as he dragged Micah’s body out of the water and hid it in the tall grass.

When he climbed back into the cave, he sat down beside Elisha. “Micah’s dead,” he said.

“What about Lemuel and Benjamin?” Elisha asked.

Nathan leaned back against the wall. “I did not see them.”

“It don’t matter much to me who wins this war, but I hate seeing the lives of good men taken when they’re so young.”

Nathan unrolled his blanket beside Elisha and covered his wet clothes with it. Micah was one of thousands of casualties, but Nathan hated that anyone would have to die. And yet each one of those men was a hero.

Once they had succeeded in obtaining freedom, he would never forget to celebrate the lives of the men who’d made it possible.

A breeze swept into the cave, and his eyes began to droop.

There was nothing else they could do until the sun went down again.

Aunt Emeline eyed the plate of raspberry tarts with her lorgnette and then gingerly lifted one to her lips, taking the slightest nibble off the edge. Sarah watched with fascination as her aunt’s lips puckered and her eyes crossed ever so slightly.

Aunt Emeline waved her eyepiece. “We cannot possibly serve this to our guests.”

The cook stepped forward. “There is no decent sugar to be had in the markets.”

“Then we must borrow some from our neighbors.”

“I fear no one will loan us any more.”

Sarah’s aunt had a terrible sweet tooth and kept the staff busy, trying to accommodate her penchant for sweets. None of the neighbors were willing, it seemed, to part with any more of the sugar that was so difficult to obtain.

“Take it away,” her aunt commanded, and Louisa swept the plate out from under Aunt Emeline’s hand and rushed it away so quickly that Sarah barely had time to swipe a tart off the plate. They tasted, well, a bit tart, but other than that, she thought it would be a wonderful treat for the women attending Aunt Emeline’s luncheon.

“If I may,” the cook said, “perhaps we should consider serving dumplings with molasses to the guests.”

Aunt Emeline reached for her fan and propelled liberal amounts of air over her perplexed face as if the thought of serving dumplings and molasses might be the death of her.

“Or I could use applesauce to make a cake,” the cook offered.

“Nonsense. I will personally go and ask Mrs. Richter for a loaf of sugar.”

The cook bowed her head, backing away. “Of course.”

Sarah finished the rest of the tart. “The women should not care whether they are served a fancy dessert.”

Her aunt looked at Sarah as if she’d lost her mind then turned and followed their cook toward the kitchen.

Sarah glanced out the window, searching the street as she’d done a hundred times before, hoping to see Grayson walking toward their house. He was supposed to be in Philadelphia three weeks ago, and there was still no word of where he was or when he would return.

Her heart trembled. When he returned, she hoped they would resume the conversation they’d started down at the docks. If Grayson did propose marriage, Sarah knew her brother would be happy for her, and Father would try. Commodore Hammond had always supported men who stood by their principles, and Grayson had stood behind his.

She was proud of Grayson for supplying the Continental Army with the rations they needed to survive and ultimately win this war. Now,
instead of hiding away in her plantation, perhaps she could convince him to let her join him in his work.

When Aunt Emeline returned, she moved to the window beside Sarah. “I am certain he will come soon, dear.”

In the midst of her excitement, Sarah couldn’t help but worry. Grayson had disappeared from her life before. It was possible he would do it once again. And if he disappeared without telling her where he had gone, she didn’t know how she could ever let him back in.

How many times could she let him break her heart?

The front bell rang, and she leaped.

Aunt Emeline wrung her gloves. “I must procure the sugar before our guests arrive.”

Sarah nodded as her aunt bustled toward the back door, and then her gaze returned to the window. Seconds later, a man was escorted into the parlor, his vest and pantaloons dirty and torn, his long hair ratty over his shoulders. She struggled to remember where she had seen him before.

Then she remembered—she’d met him with Grayson down near the docks. Zadock was his name.

She reached for the arm of a chair, balancing herself. Why had this man come without Grayson?

“He insisted on seeing you,” Louisa explained, distraught.

“It is all right,” Sarah assured her before she turned to Zadock. “What happened?”

“Our boat was attacked in Virginia.”

“Where is—” Her voice cracked. “Where is Porter?”

“The British have taken him and his boat along with most of the crew.” Zadock paused. “Porter said if anything happened to him, I must come find you.”

She released her grip on the chair. Thank God, he was still alive. “Where have they taken them?” she insisted.

“I’m not certain,” Zadock said. “But there was a wharf nearby, outside their camp in York.”

She hadn’t been able to save Thomas or the others from the British.

But perhaps it wasn’t too late to save Grayson.

Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered;
yet we have this consolation with us,
that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
.

T
HOMAS
P
AINE
,
T
HE
A
MERICAN
C
RISIS
, 1776

September 1781

Sarah insisted that Zadock and his small band of men escort her to where Grayson lost his schooner. Aunt Emeline protested with flurry even as Sarah left the house, but during war, there was no time to concern oneself with propriety and material comforts. If she lost Grayson due to her fears, she would never forgive herself.

She didn’t know how Zadock had secured the sailboat, but it served the four of them well as they traveled the waterways down into Virginia. As she helped the men sail, she imagined herself as Madam Sarah Knight traveling into the unknown—except that Madam Knight wasn’t searching for the man she loved.

Sarah Hammond wouldn’t stop searching until she found him.

When they stopped at a port in Virginia, another privateer told them that he’d seen a new prisoner ship at a camp a mile south of York. The information came for a hefty price, but Zadock had the gold to pay for it. Sarah asked him about the money, and he explained that a shrewd privateer always carried extra funds, reserved for intelligence and bribery. Information that cost nothing, Zadock explained, was usually worthless.