Dawn on a Distant Shore (54 page)

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Authors: Sara Donati

Tags: #Canada, #Canada - History - 1791-1841, #Historical, #Action & Adventure, #Fiction, #Romance, #Indians of North America, #Suspense, #Historical Fiction, #English Fiction, #New York (State) - History - 1775-1865, #New York (State), #Indians of North America - New York (State)

BOOK: Dawn on a Distant Shore
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She slipped out of bed
before he could stop her. At the door she paused to smile at him over her
shoulder.

"If you'll
promise to give me reason, why then, sir, I'll promise to oblige you."

 

Charlie brought their
breakfast with the puffin tucked under his arm like a tame chicken.

"Good morning
from Mr. Brown to Hannah," he reported dutifully. "And would she be
so kind as tae look after Sally, who doesna take kindly to the rushing about on
deck."

"Hannah has gone
to take her leave from the Hakim," Curiosity said, taking a platter of bread
and meat from him to put it on the table. "But I suppose Sally can bide a
while out on the gallery. Now, you got any news for us?"

Charlie was full of
news, and eager to share it: four excisemen had come on board, the first barges
had already been loaded, and there was a report of the war with France and
America--a huge sea battle and another victory for the Royal Navy's Atlantic
fleet.

"America?"
Nathaniel spoke more harshly than he meant to, and the boy jumped.

"Surely not,
Charlie." Elizabeth looked up from the baby in her arms. "England is
not at war with America."

Charlie bobbed his
head so hard that his hair flopped into his eyes. "The Americans were trying
to run the British blockade, missus, on account of the great hunger. A whole
convoy of them loaded wi' corn. But the English chased them off awa hame, and
made short work o' the French Navy what meant to protect them."

"Not war,
then," Elizabeth said.

"Not yet,"
said Curiosity. "But it don't sound good. The sooner we get home, the better."

Nathaniel caught
Elizabeth's gaze and he shook his head slightly; he wasn't ready to discuss the
situation, and certainly not in front of the boy.

But Charlie took no
note, so wound up was he in the rest of his news: a Manx smuggler had gone
aground just south of the Southerness lighthouse and could be seen there
plainly, listing hard. "The crew is still trapped on board, and they're
armed. The excisemen have called out the dragoons from Dumfries," he
finished. "They'll drag the whole lot off to gaol, wait and see."

Curiosity raised her
head from her food and slanted a grim look in Nathaniel's direction.

 

The morning wore on
and Nathaniel paced the cabin until even Elizabeth's patience had been tried
beyond endurance.

"For heaven's
sake, go up on deck," she said finally. "Take your son with you.
Perhaps it will improve both your moods." She thrust Daniel into his arms.

The baby had been
fussing all morning, but he stopped in mid-grizzle and gave his father a wide-mouthed
grin.

"You see?"
she said.

"It's got nothing
to do with a bad mood, Boots," Nathaniel protested. "I'm just on edge,
and so is he."

Hannah looked up from
the basket she was filling. "He's on edge because you are, Da. He takes
his mood from you."

As if to prove his
sister right, Daniel settled against Nathaniel's shoulder with a satisfied
grunt, pleased to have finally landed where he wanted to be. Nathaniel was in
the habit of studying the baby, trying to find some trace of himself in his
eyes or jaw or the rise of his forehead, just as he looked for Elizabeth in
Lily's face. Now he wondered if he had been concentrating on the wrong things.

"He'll settle
down if you walk him," said Curiosity.

"In the fresh
air," added Elizabeth.

He laughed.
"There's no arguing with the three of you." What he didn't say was,
he was glad to have the excuse to go up on deck. There was a lot to think
through, and he thought best while he was walking.

Nathaniel opened the
door to find two redcoats waiting on the other side, muskets crossed and at the
ready. Solidly built men, professional soldiers who held their weapons with the
same affectionate ease that he held his son.

"Sir," the
larger one snapped. Beneath the brim of his hat his gaze was brittle, his mouth
hard set. Swollen red fingers clenched tight on the barrel of the musket. The
second man was a head shorter, but cut from the same mold--the kind who liked
confrontation, and was always looking for an excuse to unsheath his bayonet.
Daniel took his thumb out of his mouth to stare at them, not in fear but interest.

"Who is it,
Nathaniel?" Elizabeth came to the door with Lily in her arms.

Nathaniel answered her
without looking away from the soldiers. "Redcoats. Looks like Moncrieff
don't want us up on deck. Ain't that right?"

"Our orders are
to see that no one leaves this cabin."

The smaller soldier
had an egg-round head on a massive neck. Both men stood with legs stemmed
against the roll of the ship, and Nathaniel knew that even armed he would have
little chance of forcing his way through. Certainly there was nothing he could
do with Daniel on his arm.

He said, "I want
to see Pickering."

The bigger redcoat
thrust out his chin thoughtfully. "We'll send word, sir."

"I want to see
him now."

"No doubt you do,
sir. But the gentlemen are occupied."

Nathaniel shut the
door in their smirking faces.

"I feared as
much," said Curiosity.

Elizabeth said
nothing, but her expression was drawn and tense. He touched her shoulder.

"What are you
going to do?" Hannah asked as she took Daniel from him. The baby began to
fuss in protest, and she jiggled him on her hip.

"I'm going to see
Pickering."

Nathaniel opened the
door out to the gallery and the sea air rolled in, cool even in June. He put
his hands on the carved balustrade and leaned out, craning his head upward to
measure the distance to the gallery overhead, the one off the cabins Giselle
Somerville had occupied. Behind him, Elizabeth said, "You cannot be
serious."

"There's nothing
to it, Boots. I was climbing bigger trees when I was Hannah's age. And so were
you, according to your aunt Merriweather."

She let out a harsh
laugh. "Don't try to mollify me, Nathaniel. Trees do not buck like a horse
when you climb them."

But he had already
found a good handhold in the carved work of the support beams, and he hoisted himself
up.

The sun struck sparks
off the water, alive with the wind. To either side land rolled away from the shore,
covered with grass of a green he had never seen before on any growing thing,
bright enough to make a man squint. The wind got under his shirt and made it
billow out like a sail and his hair whipped into his eyes. He wished he had
taken the time to tie it back.

"Nathaniel
Bonner," Elizabeth said, mustering every ounce of resolve and severity she
had to her name. "You'll land in the drink."

He studied her
upturned face for a minute, measuring just how anxious she was. There was that
line between her brows, the one that she used with unruly schoolboys. He said,
"And if I do, Boots, they'll haul me out and I'll end up in front of
Pickering, which is the whole idea."

He drew in a breath,
braced himself with foot and hand against the choppy roll of the ship, and
prepared to leap.

"Have you took
leave of your senses, Nathaniel?" Curiosity stood at the open door, her
hands on her hips. Elizabeth might be exasperated and anxious, but Curiosity was
plain mad.

"You know I can't
let him get away with locking us up."

She marched up to him
and yanked on his shirttail. "Of course you cain't. But there's more than
one way to skin that old cat, now ain't there? Your blood in such a boil that
it has cooked your brain to pure mush. Come down from there and let me show you
how to do it. Now where did that bird get to?"

She peered into the
narrow corner of the gallery, bending over at the waist and making a clucking sound.
When she straightened again she had Mr. Brown's puffin in her arms.

"What are you
doing?" Elizabeth called after her.

But Curiosity only
jerked her head impatiently and headed into the cabin.

"What can she
possibly mean to do with Sally?" Elizabeth asked him.

"Hell if I
know," he said, and swung himself back onto the gallery.

Curiosity waited for
them at the door to the hall with the puzzled bird in both hands.

Hannah looked from
Curiosity to her father to Elizabeth. Daniel put back his head and let out a high-pitched
wail, and Lily joined him in furious voice. Rankled by Curiosity's tight hold
and the crying babies, Sally opened her striped beak and began a great squawking.

"Curiosity."
Nathaniel raised his voice. "Those dragoons are armed."

She threw him an
offended look and flung open the door so that it crashed against the wall. At the
same time she let out a keen-edged trill that made Nathaniel's own skin rise
all along his spine.

Curiosity rushed the
dragoons with the outraged bird thrust before her, flapping and screeching.

Nathaniel's legs moved
of their own accord, past Elizabeth and Hannah and the howling babies. He
barreled through the door behind Curiosity, flashing past two astonished faces.
The bigger redcoat made a grab for him but Curiosity still had the bird by the
feet and she swung it in his face like a battle-axe, her Kahnyen'kehâka war cry
even louder in the narrow hall.

Behind him there was a
thump and a hoarse shout but Nathaniel pushed hard up the stairs and burst onto
the deck, careening into a line of sailors humping kegs. The whole queue went
crashing one into the next. A keg hit the deck hard on its rim, sprang its
hoops, and a great gush of brandy spattered in a wide arc. From the corner of his
eye Nathaniel saw two kegs roll into Adam MacKay. There was the audible snap of
bone, a short scream, and then he flipped over the rail in a flash of flailing
legs.

"What's this?
What's this?" The boatswain raised a cudgel but Nathaniel knocked him out of
the way and ran straight for the round-house. Half the crew was behind him, and
the other half leaned over the side, fishing for MacKay.

Nathaniel kicked open
the door and stood there, dripping onto the captain's polished floor.

Pickering and
Moncrieff shot to their feet.

"Really, Mr.
Bonner!" Pickering sputtered. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I don't take
kindly to being locked up," said Nathaniel, wiping his wet face on his sleeve
and frowning at the smell. "As Moncrieff there knows all too well. That's
the meaning of this."

"It was for your
own protection," Moncrieff said wearily, rubbing a hand over his chin.
"But now that ye're here, the damage is done. Mr. Bonner, Mr. Burns of the
excise office."

The man still seated
at the captain's table got up from behind the pile of papers, his nostrils
flaring as he sniffed.

"Mr. ...
Bonner?" He bowed from the shoulders, but his eyes never left Nathaniel's face.

"Nathaniel Bonner
of New-York, aye. What of it?"

The man blinked in
surprise. "Your servant, sir." And then to Pickering, his mouth turning
up at one corner: "I take it that ye've got nineteen kegs o' double distilled
Indian arrack rather than the twenty noted here?"

Pickering nodded
impatiently.

There was a shouting
on the deck. The two dragoons he had left behind pushed their way through the
crowd, jostling him farther into the cabin. The bigger one had a bloody nose
and a long scratch on his cheek; the smaller man's arm was bleeding. He had
lost his hat but gained a number of bird feathers, one sticking out of his left
eyebrow.

It was the little one
who lunged for him. Nathaniel sidestepped, slipping the knife strapped to his
wrist into his palm, and jabbed the man neatly in the back of the hand. He
howled and fell back, fumbling for his musket.

"Enough!"
Pickering's voice cut hard and cold into the confusion.

"Captain,"
panted the bigger one, pointing a shaking finger at Nathaniel. "He set a lunatic
Negress on us so as to slip awa' while we were fightin' her off! Sinclair here almost
had the better o' her when a redskin come up and stabbed him wi' a
candle
."

"Negress?
Redskin?" The exciseman looked around himself as if they might jump out
from a shadowy corner. "Stabbed him with a candle?"

Nathaniel snorted.
"An old woman and a little girl."

"Old or young,
they were armed!"

"Aye, with a bird
and a bit of beeswax. It's a miracle these two escaped with their lives."

The big dragoon
flushed purple to the roots of his hair. The smaller one had gone pasty white.
Burns turned his head away and let out a great coughing laugh, and for a moment
both Moncrieff and the captain studied their shoes.

"Sir!"

"Never
mind," barked Moncrieff. "Go report to your sergeant, and tell him
what a bluidy cock-up ye've made o' guardin' women and bairns."

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