Scuttle (The Pirate King Series, Book 2)

Chapter 5: End of the Engagement

Everything immediately afterwards happens as if I'm in a dream. I lose track of both time and the details, but somehow I end up in my cabin and finally sleep. It's a restless night, as the fate of the men from the Phoenix Rising consumes my unconscious thoughts. Their faces haunt my nightmares and give me no reprieve when they continue to preoccupy my waking moments, as well.

The next day is no longer filled with excitement and anticipation as before, but is spent under a cloud – both literal and figurative – of gloom. We can't escape a continuous drizzle of rain, as if the Heavens are also mourning our losses. The crew of the Bedford is no longer talkative, but go about their duties silently reflecting on the prior day's events. Their somber mood is extended with every spotting – and then losing – of the enemy's ships.

Not once during the available daylight hours do the two navies engage each other.

After three more days of this game of cat and mouse, de Grasse reverses course and leaves the open waters of the Atlantic. He returns to the safety of the Chesapeake River, and Graves orders the English fleet's retreat.

"We've lost over 300 men, but this isn't a defeat. At most, it's a delay." He addresses the crew, the weight of the decision showing in his dark-rimmed eyes. "We must re-group with the rest of the fleet anchored in New York, pick up more men, and return for victory. Give the signal, Lieutenant. We sail north at once."

"New York? How long will that journey take, Admiral?" I ask the man privately once his subordinates take over the preparations.

"Six days, God willing." He wipes his brow with a wrinkled kerchief.

I've already waited four agonizingly long days in ignorance of whether any of my friends were picked up by other ships in this fleet. I can't take six more days of not knowing who didn't die. Worse yet, the farther we go, the longer it will take to return for those who could have been captured by the enemy.

"But what about the survivors? We can't just leave them here in Virginia as prisoners of war," I repeat the unwavering concern I've had for days, but Graves shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Miss. But the only way into Yorktown right now is on land. Even if those men are still alive, I don't have the number of troops needed to successfully take it. Why, I can't even safely dock until we get to the mouth of the Delaware River."

I sense a glimmer of hope and gently touch his arm. "How far is that?"

He sighs, realizing my intentions. "Halfway, I suppose. Three days at the most, but I wouldn't advise—"

"I know you wouldn't, Admiral, but I'm not asking you to. All I need is for you deposit me and any other survivors from the Phoenix Rising who may be on your other ships at the closest available port." The muscles in his jaw tighten, and I can feel his objections rising. Taking a large breath, I bite my lip and give it all I have. "I have to know what happened to the man I was to marry and his crew. They're either here." I motion toward the ships surrounding the Beford before pointing westward. "Or there in Yorktown, sir. I know they're alive, and I have go back for them. Please, Admiral find it in your heart to grant me this small request."

He turns away, stepping to the railing, and my heart sinks. His imminent dismissal of my pleas will add at least two weeks to my journey back.

"Four of them are alive." He draws my attention, although the words are barely audible over the sound of the wind.

"What? How do you know?" I rush to his side once again.

Graves points toward the main mast. "The flags. We use them to communicate more than just orders." He pauses. "Two of the men are on the Princessa, one on the Terrible, and another on the Serapis."