Dawn on a Distant Shore (40 page)

She was put in mind of
her aunt Merriweather, who never traveled with less than six trunks, no matter
how short the journey. They were four and they had among them a single carry
sack with the gown and cape she had been wearing yesterday, two extra shirts
and one pair of breeches, a half-horn of powder, some shot and a patch box, the
bag of silver coin they had taken away from the
Isis
(hawkeye wore both
sacks of gold on leather thongs slung across his chest), a straight razor, and
more curiously, a deck of cards and a few thick tallow candles wrapped in a
piece of homespun.

She held one up,
surprised at its weight although she knew very well that it held a blade at its
center.

"From your friend
the pig farmer in Montréal?"

Hawkeye inclined his
head. "You never know when you'll have need of a little light." His
gaze scanned the horizon; Elizabeth knew what he was looking for.

"Hawkeye,"
she said. "Do you intend to kill Moncrieff?"

She felt Nathaniel's
eyes on her, but she kept her gaze on her father-in-law. She had not often seen
Hawkeye openly angry, and even now she could not call the expression she saw in
his face so much anger as resolve.

"I intend to get
my grandchildren back safe and sound," he said. "If no harm has come
to them, and if nobody stands in my way, why then, nobody will get hurt. Unless
you're wanting to see the man dead, that is. I could find my way to oblige you
without too much trouble."

Elizabeth pulled her
folded legs up and pressed her forehead to her knees, rocking slightly. She did
not like this razor-sharp edge of herself: all emotion, and no reason at all.
For she would gladly see Moncrieff dead; even to think his name filled her
mouth with a bitterness she could barely swallow. And these three good men
would take a life to appease the burning inside her. They were capable of that,
for all their kindness and care; and so was she, now.
A
man that
studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green
. She might have said it aloud;
she feared she had, for she felt Nathaniel's hand on her back.

"I want my
children back," she said, able now to raise her head and meet his gaze.
"Whatever the cost."

"Christ on the
cross, ye useless bilge rat!" Stoker's voice carried the length of the ship,
so that they turned just in time to see young Jacques scoot out of the way of
his captain's swinging arm. Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, but Stoker had
already given up the chase, and the boy was safe.

"There's a mannie
in a black mood," said Robbie.

Hawkeye nodded.
"His reputation has caught up with him. He never thought they'd give chase,
and now he's got to show us what he's worth." He looked at Elizabeth, his
gaze narrowed and thoughtful. "The
Osiris
is gaining on us, anybody
can see that plain. If push comes to shove, then you go beldecks and sit
tight."

"But we cannot
take on a ship the size of the
Osiris
. That would be madness."
Elizabeth looked at each of them, and got only dark expressions in return.

"It ain't up to
us," said Nathaniel, wiping down the barrel of the musket. "It's
Stoker's ship."

"Maybe not,"
said Hawkeye, and he pointed with his chin.

The first mate had
appeared on deck carrying Granny Stoker in his arms. In the bright afternoon sunlight
the old lady's complexion was a papery yellow and she seemed as frail as dried grass,
but her voice could still carry.

"You useless sons
o' whores," she screeched. "Standin' about wit' your thumbs up your sorry
arses! Connor, you damn idiot, put me down or I'll skin your ugly back meself,
and wit' a dull knife."

The first mate did as
she asked with a stony face, settling her into a sling chair hung from an arm
low on the foremast.

Stoker came marching
down the deck, his expression enough to make Elizabeth draw back into the
circle of her menfolk.

"Mac, have you
gone blind as well as daft?" His grandmother waved her cane in Stoker's
direction as if she would gladly box his ears with it. "More sail, boyo,
more sail! Put some muscle in it!"

Stoker bent his dark
head down to hers and bellowed, "I'm the captain of this ship, you stinkin'
old trout, and I'll sail her as I see fit!"

"Old trout, is
it? And have ye had a sniff at your high-and-mighty self lately?" She swiped
at him with the cane and he sidestepped.

"Go back to your
hidey-hole, Granny. I've no need of you here."

"Is that so? And
did I sign over this beauty of a ship to you to see her mishandled? She needs
more sail to do her work, unless you're after havin' a great bloody merchantman
slide up your skinny arse."

Elizabeth drew in a
hiccup of surprise, but the men grinned into their hands.

"If I was a
betting man, I'd put some coin on the old woman," said Hawkeye.

"I havena heard
sic language since I left the army," said Robbie, his color rising a shade
with every exchange between Stoker and his grandmother.

Elizabeth knew that
she should be shocked, but at the moment she was more interested in what the
argument revealed about their fate.

"Anne
Bonney," said Hawkeye, studying the old woman with one eye squeezed shut
against the sun. "I wouldn't have believed it."

Elizabeth said,
"I wonder that I have never heard of her before, as she is known to all of
you."

Robbie threw her a
sidelong glance. "I expect the tales canna be tolt in polite company. Most
folks believe she hung long ago, doon Jamaica way. A bonnie lass, wi' the heart
o' a lion and the habits o' a crow--she'd snatch up any shiny bauble tha' took
her eye. And in a battle, when things turned tae the worse and men began tae
flee for their lives, she cursed them aa for cowards, and foucht on. So goes
the tale o' the pirate Anne Bonney."

"
Pirate?
"
Elizabeth's head came up in surprise.

"Och, aye,"
said Robbie. "A marauder o' the first rank, was Anne Bonney. Ye'll nivver
see anither like her."

"Let's hope
not," grunted Hawkeye.

Around them the
sailors were spreading more sail in response to Stoker's shouted commands.

"Ye see,"
said Robbie. "She's no' the kind tae give in."

As if she had heard
them talking about her, the kerchiefed head swiveled and the old lady fixed
Elizabeth with a stare. The mass of jewels and coins hung around her neck
sparkled in the sunlight.

With a reluctant
glance at Nathaniel, Elizabeth left the men to go forward.

"There you
are," said Granny Stoker. "I thought you and me had some trading to
do."

Elizabeth was keenly
aware of the captain standing there. He seemed to be watching the sails of the
Osiris
on the horizon, but she knew that he was listening. She answered, "I would
like to talk to you about that toothbrush"--and saw him snort to himself
in disgust.

Annie's cane came
flashing out to poke him in the ribs, so that he jumped and turned on her, wild-eyed.

"Sweet bleedin'
Jesus, Granny! And what was that for?"

"Gawping. Connor
needs talking to and there you stand, sniffin' about a skirt."

Stoker scowled.
"And why would I be botherin' wit' the likes of her? Don't grouse, old woman.
I'll leave youse to your bloody hen party." And he leaped, with dexterity
born of practice, out of the reach of the cane.

"You just see to
your own business, boyo," called Anne Stoker, waving it after him.
"And let us see to ours."

Elizabeth said,
"You remind me of someone I know. She enjoys goading the people she loves
best, too."

"Oh, so you think
you've seen through me right to my soft heart, eh?" The old lady thumped
her chest with a knotty fist. "Let me tell you, dearie, that if I ever had
one it ran down long ago. Now, there's a story or two you've to tell me, is
there not?"

"Tell me first
about the ship that's following us," said Elizabeth.

The old lady narrowed
an eye. "What is it you want to know?"

"I assume she can
outgun us, but can she outrun us? She can't be more than a few miles off at
this point."

"She's trying her
damnedest, but it ain't time to break out the powder yet." The old lady's gaze
wandered along the deck to where Nathaniel stood with Hawkeye, examining a
carronade. "That must be your man, there." She pointed with her chin,
a faint smile turning up one corner of her mouth. "No trouble on the eyes,
that one. You get on well?"

"Yes," said
Elizabeth. "We get on very well."

"Does he raise a
hand to you when you're surly?"

Elizabeth fairly
jumped with indignation, but she managed to keep her tone in check. "If I were
surly, he would not."

This earned her a
burst of those incongruous dimples. "Looks the lively type, he does. The
kind to keep a woman warm at night. Long of bone, big hands, muscled hard. Reminds
me of a sweetheart I had once, in Monterey Bay. Soon as we docked he'd come
striding up the gangplank bellowing so's the whole world could hear him:
"Anne Bonney! Take a hard look at the floorboards, lass, for ye'll be
seein' naught but the ceiling ower ma bed for a guid while!" Aye, those
were grand days. He was a Scot, like that man of yours."

"Nathaniel is
American born and raised."

The old woman
shrugged. "He ain't red-skinned, is he? His folks come from somewhere else,
and he's a Scot if I ever saw one. The full-grown kind, up to trouble andwitha
keen eye for women. Now, about that man of yours, tell me this--"

Elizabeth held her
breath.

"--has he taught
you how to use a gun?"

It took some effort to
bite back her smile, but Elizabeth managed to nod. "Yes. A musket and a
rifle, as well."

"And have you
ever shot a man?"

She slipped in that
question so easily, as if it meant nothing more than idle talk of lovers long gone.
Elizabeth looked out over the water. "I don't think the
Osiris
will
attack."

A hoarse laugh.
"Don't you, now? But that's not what I asked."

With a sigh, Elizabeth
said: "I didn't shoot Jack Lingo, if that's what you're wondering about.
Did you think you could get the story out of me so cheaply?" But she felt
her color rising, and she knew that this fact did not escape Anne Stoker.

"There's more
than one story, then. How you dealt with that bastard Lingo. And who it was you
shot."

Elizabeth said,
"For the first story at least I'll need that toothbrush, among other
things. You said something of a hairbrush and a comb."

The old lady fumbled
in her shirt and pulled out her pipe. "Did I?"

"Yes, I am sure
you did," said Elizabeth firmly. "And I should think some soap, as
well. If there is any to be had on board."

The soft white hair on
Anne Stoker's chin was working up and down furiously as she sucked at her cold
pipe, but her eyes never left Elizabeth.

"Is Jack Lingo
worth all that?"

"You'll have to
hear the story and decide for yourself," said Elizabeth.

From overhead came a
cry as loud and harsh as any gull's. "Frigate on the starboard bow! Flying
French colors!"

The old lady's head
came around with a jerk. "Oh now, there's some good luck!"

Stoker shouted up into
the rigging: "Can you make her out, Tommy?"

"Aye, Capting! I
believe that's the
Avignon
."

"Has she seen
us?"

"That she has!
And she's running out her guns!"

"Guns?"
asked Elizabeth, more mystified than frightened. "But France is not at war
with the United States. We are flying American colors."

"Not for us,
Boots," said Nathaniel, coming up behind her. "She'll have her eye on
the
Osiris
. Ain't that so?" This question was directed to Granny
Stoker.

"Oh, aye,"
agreed the old lady, pulling a telescope from her pocket. "The French fleet's
been prowling the main shipping lanes ever since the Tory blockade shut 'em out
of their home ports. That frigate will be in a foul mood. The
Osiris
will suit her just fine about now."

In a few blasts of
Connor's whistle the other half of the crew had been called up from their berths,
and all hands fell into a routine as practiced as a quadrille at a country ball.

"Helm's
a-lee!" boomed Stoker from the forecastle.

"Look at the grin
on him," said Nathaniel. "You'd think he was going to take the prize
himself."

Robbie and Hawkeye
came up the deck, dodging sailors until they stood in a circle around Granny
Stoker, whose sling chair was rocking hard with the motion of the ship. She
pointed her cane at Robbie. "You, Scotsman! Hold me steady!"

When he had caught up
the sling, she fixed her glass on the horizon. And then: "Aye, there she
is! God's bones, ain't she a pretty sight!"