Privateers

Part I

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1774 Charlestown, SC

The flames of the lanterns flickered along the cobblestones on Broad street. The sun was quickly setting and dusk was fast approaching. The church bells of St. Michael's clanged as the clock struck eight. A group of boys were playing games on the side of the street while horse drawn carriages rumbled by to the various events of the evening. Their passengers were ornately dressed and easily identifiable as the upper crust of Charlestown society.
Henry watched the boys play while he waited for the carriage traffic to cease, his arms loaded down with paperwork from the smith. His face was covered with soot marks from the smith's fires, and stray wisps of hair fell over his face, escaping from the loose ponytail he had tied for his long brown hair. Henry looked on as the kids pretended to be redcoats while the other half pretended to be Indians as they played war with sticks and rocks. Once the traffic cleared, he quickly crossed the street and made his way into Doyle's Tavern.
Smoke hung in a thick fog over the tables and chairs of the tavern as its boisterous patrons drank from wooden tankards. Henry looked about the tavern, spotting a few familiar faces but stopping short of going over to greet any of them. He spotted a lone chair and table in the far corner of the tavern and made his way over. He took his cap off and set it along with paper down on the table and hailed one of the barmaids and asked for a pitcher of ale.
"Anything else Mr. Riley?" The barmaid asked sweetly when she came back with a tankard and pitcher.
"Thank you Charlotte, that'll be all." Riley said absentmindedly, his thoughts turned to his work.
Charlotte gave him a disappointed look but nodded, "Well I'll be right over there. If you need anything just shout."
"I will thank you." Henry said politely and started to unfold one of the rolls of paper.
She wasn't the first woman to flash her eyes at him, and wouldn't be the last. Coming from Edisto Island, Henry was a rare commodity in the city. He was young, self-employed, self-made, and, most of all, unspoken for. Amongst mothers playing matchmaker for their daughters, he was a hot topic, and amongst his fellow master blacksmiths he was an anomaly. At the age of twenty-three he was ten-years junior to the next youngest master-smith.
When it came to making the metal sing, Henry Riley was unrivaled. His skill at spreading and pulling the metal into intricate designs made his work incredibly popular amongst the wealthy landowners and merchants of Charlestown. His brand of work wasn't just metalworking, it was art.
Henry reached for his tankard and inspected the rough sketches that littered the paper. He drank heavily and pulled a charcoal pen from his pocket. In quick short movements he started to add details to his design.
The din of the tavern faded to the background as Henry concentrated on his work. He worked furiously and stopped only to sip his ale. His absorption into his work drew a few lone looks, but for most of the tavern regulars Henry's work was commonplace.
Whenever Henry latched onto a project there was a passion to his efforts. He worked feverishly, both day and night, to commit an idea to paper and metal. During times like these, the local patrons of the tavern knew to give Henry a wide berth.
With a final stroke of the pen he leaned back in his chair and surveyed his work with a sullen look.He added a few quick touches and inspected his work a final time.
"What springs from the mind of Henry Riley today?"
Henry jumped at the voice behind him and turned in annoyance to see who dared disturb his work.
For a barmaid, she was nothing like what would be expected. Her raven hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in waves, catching the light whenever she moved. Her small figure hovered over Henry's shoulder as she fixed him with a glare from her emerald green eyes.
"Don't give me that look Mr. Riley, or I'll have you bounced out of this tavern without a second thought."
"Emily." Henry bobbed his head, but kept his eyes locked on hers. A thin smile creased his lips and slowly turned into a sheepish grin. "You move too softly,"
"Aye, the way you jumped and turned around was a right proper sight." Emily Doyle laughed as she sat down in the chair opposite Henry's.
"So what are you working on today?"
"A set of lanterns for the Griffin. She's being built at Kingston's Shipyard and is preparing for her maiden voyage."
Emily nodded and, without asking, grabbed Henry's sketches and turned them so she could inspect them. "An Eagle and Lion's head?"
"That's what makes a griffin."
"I'm aware."
"The mouths will be open and that's where the lantern will be."
Emily reviewed the sketches without a word, her lips pursed and her almond-shaped eyes tightened as she reviewed his work.
Henry studied her over the lip of his tankard as he took a sip of ale. She was without a doubt the prettiest girl in Charlestown, and the smartest.
Henry had known Emily since they were children, and had been in love with her since he was ten, but, like a fool, had never told her. He watched as her tongue jutted out from the side of her mouth as she deliberated on the designs. He could tell she wasn't happy with them.
"I liked your old sketches more, the ones on Edisto." She said with some finality as she leaned back and turned the sketches back towards Henry. "Your sketch of the Odyssey was my favorite. The one with Penelope and Odysseus."
A chuckle rumbled in Henry's throat as he took the sketches and started to roll them up. "That must have been ten years ago, I'm surprised you remember it."
"I still have it, it's in my room."
"A memento from Edisto?"
Emily sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, "Maybe."
Henry smiled and leaned back in his chair. Talking about Edisto brought back a lot of fond memories. Memories of warm summer evenings under the lush, verdant boughs of the weeping willows along the river, of sitting under his favorite tree on the banks of the river with a book as the salty smell of pluff mud and sweet grass wafted through the air. It truly was an Eden of the New World.
"When was the last time you were there?"
Henry ran a hand through his long chestnut hair and shrugged, "Two months ago I reckon. Father is still the reverend of the church. What about you?"
Emily reached for Henry's tankard and took a sip, not waiting for permission. "Seven years."
Henry frowned, "Seven years? That was when you left. You haven't been back since then?"
Emily shook her head
Henry did his best to go back Edisto Island frequently. His father was still the reverend of the local church and he tried to visit every few months.