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."
"Why . . . why didn't you tell me this before?" I can barely speak from excitement at this unexpected news.
He faces me, and takes my hands in his. "Because your captain's not one of them."
I swallow and raise my chin. The odds of Cade being alive just decreased by half, but I still can't give up hope. "That's all right. It just means he's in Yorktown. I'll find him."
"And I will wish you the best of luck in your endeavor, Miss Ana . . . after we dock in New York." He gives my hands one more squeeze, nods, and walks away.
End of discussion. My request has been denied.
Against my best judgment, my mind immediately sets to work on how I could get to shore without Graves' help or knowledge. I quickly rule out stealing a rowboat, as lowering the massive craft takes more than one person and attracts too much attention. Because we're in enemy waters we stay far off the coast, so swimming is also off the table. It finally occurs to me that I have no recourse and must accept the Admiral's decision.
That is the first night that I cry myself to sleep since losing the Phoenix Rising.
Ginger tries her best to comfort me, pressing her head against my face while loudly purring. Her warmth against my body just reminds me more of my loneliness until I remember Charlie Roberts' ring hanging around my neck.
I must stay strong not only for Cade, but also for poor Molly Roberts, who will never get to welcome her husband home again. At least I still have hope, although it takes every part of my being to maintain it.
The next day, the clouds are gone and the sun reappears, making the surface of the ocean twinkle and mock the increasing darkness I feel inside. I'm weak in both body and spirit as my unhappiness drains the remainder of energy I had, and I have no wish to spend my time in others' company. Venturing topside to get a bit of fresh air, I only dally when the Admiral motions for me to stay.
"Miss Ana, if I may have a word." He approaches with haste as soon as he sees me. "The Terrible is taking on more water than we can pump out and appears to be irretrievably damaged."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Admiral, but how is that my concern?" I clasp my hands behind me and pout.
"Not a concern, but perhaps a welcome piece of news. You see, I'm going to have to scuttle the ship soon, and the best place to do that gets us very close to the Delaware River." He puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles. "So, you may get your wish, after all."
"I can disembark as soon as tomorrow?" My heartbeat accelerates at the realization.
"Aye." He taps my shoulder before going on his way again.
With that, my whole world changes. Once again, I'm able to see the positive side of the situation and begin making preparations to leave the Bedford. Packing up my one bag takes a whole five minutes, and I spend the rest of the time pacing on deck, anxiously waiting to reach land.
It isn't until I can see the mouth of the Delaware River with my bare eyes that Graves addresses me again. "As long as we're heading toward land, I'm going to make the most of the situation and take care of some official business. The Princessa will fetch the men from the Terrible and the Serapis, but they'll be a bit behind us. I hope you don't mind waiting a little while longer."
I look toward the approaching coastline and then back at the open ocean where the other ships are gradually getting smaller in the distance. "No, of course not."
As promised, within the hour the Bedford drops anchor and the men lower a rowboat. Graves, four crewmembers, and I switch to this vessel, which will take us into the shallow harbor.
I carry my own bag, never once accepting help. I use Ginger as the excuse for my protectiveness, but in reality, I'm fearful for the discovery of the gold under my cat. The burden is heavy, but it's this exact feature that will immediately tip off my companions about the illicit cargo. If I'm found with the wealth – not to mention it being stolen – I will get both unwanted questions and perhaps even threats to my safety.
My legs shake in anticipation as I sit on the wooden plank in the middle of the precarious craft. The men row in unison, lowering then lifting the long paddles, barely giving the seawater time to drip below before repeating the process. We dock along a narrow pier that juts out among the rocky shoreline, and the Admiral hops out first. Giving me his hand, he helps me out before bowing.
"And this is where I leave you. May you find what you're looking for, Miss Ana." He tips his hat and – in the company of his men – hurries off.
I sigh and crouch beside my bag, which I've placed at my feet. Unlatching the clasp, I make a narrow opening to allow Ginger to poke her head through. She notices the unfamiliar surroundings and retreats inside again. I stick my hand in after her and scratch the cat between the ears.
Looking around at the seaside town with its whitewashed, wooden buildings, I feel very alone again in spite of the bustle. Several men are unloading a boat nearby of its fresh catch, while others are mending nets and traps. There's also a steady traffic of horses and wagons along the dirt road, but the look, the feel, and even the smell of the place is foreign to me.
Unlike the members of the British navy who are dressed primarily in dark blue, the soldiers here on the ground wear red coats, instead. The air is dry, and the fine dust permeating it catches in the back of my throat. There are no trees in the immediate area, and the ocean water smells stagnant.
Spotting a bench on the porch of a nearby building marked 'General Store and Apothecary,' I secure the bag, stand, and pick up the heavy load. I do my best to appear as though it's an effortless task, but by the time I sit, I'm out of breath and sweat trickles down my forehead.
This won't do. I can't continue to carry a bagful of gold around. Not only is it more than I can lift for an extended period, but it's also extremely unsafe. If anyone were to find out about my bounty, they'd do God only knows what to get it. As soon as I'm reunited with those four survivors from the Phoenix Rising, I'll come up with an alternative arrangement.
I continue to wait, switching between wringing my hands in my lap and checking on Ginger. Even so, my mind can't help, but return to speculation. There were sixteen souls on Cade's vessel when it blew. The only certainty is that poor Charlie Roberts is dead. Who of the remaining fifteen will soon advance in a rowboat and walk up the pier as I just did, remains to be seen.
I cough, the dusty air irritating my nose and throat. The sun is increasing in strength, and even under the partial shade of the porch, I'm getting overheated. I could use a drink, but even though there's a tavern two doors down, I have no way to pay for any purchases.
I smile at the irony. Next to me is a stack of small, shiny bars worth enough to charter an entire vessel and a crew, but it won't buy a cup of ale.
This gets me wondering. The gold in its current state is adequate for large purchases including supplies and transportation back to Virginia, but it can't be used for smaller necessities. And not only will I and the four men who are about to join me need food and drink, but we'll require rooms at least for tonight.
Movement on the horizon makes me jump up. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I soon spot two rowboats heading towards shore. In the background, the silhouettes of Graves' fleet are barely discernible.
My heartbeat quickens and my palms begin to sweat. I take a few steps in one direction, turn, and go back in the other. I repeat this two-and-half more times until a young, British officer passes by me and enters the establishment. The break in the moment gives me the impetus to act.
Shielding the carpetbag from the street with my body, I open it once more and reach inside. Grabbing a gold bar in my palm, I pull it out and slip it into the pocket hidden amongst the folds of my dress. Hushing the cat, I close the bag and take it into the shop.
Inside is both darker and cooler. Rows of wooden shelves line three walls, surrounded by low counters. Small tables also stand in the middle, filled with tins and sacks. The soldier I saw moments ago is perusing a section marked dry goods, while an older man in a waistcoat measures out beans from one, large barrel into many small bags.
I approach him without hesitation – if I did, I might lose my nerve – and gently place the gold on the counter. "Good day, sir. I would like to exchange this for an equal value in coins." I push the bar towards him.
His eyes widen, and he sets aside the beans at once. "Where did you get this?" He picks up the bullion, greedily turning it around in his hands. Finding the markings etched into one side, he looks down through his spectacles to get a clearer view. "Ah. Carolus III. Hispaniarum Rex. Spanish gold."
I clear my throat, all the while keeping my eyes on the bar. "Yes. My husband is a privateer who did business in the Caribbean. He's fighting in the Revolution down south and left this for me so I'd have the resources to join him." I avoid specifics as much as possible, while giving an acceptable explanation.
The man puts down the shiny object and frowns. "Oh, you don't want to be heading in that direction, Madam. The loyalists to the Crown are slowly being pushed back even here, but those traitorous Colonists dominate anyplace farther south. I'd suggest you patiently wait for your man here or – better yet – make your way up to New York, just to be safe."
"Thank you for your concern, sir, but rest assured, I know what I am undertaking." I pull myself to my full height and raise my chin. "Now, would it be possible to exchange the bar for coins?"
He shakes his head. "I'm afraid we're plum out of coins, Madam. The war's taken every bit of our hard currency back to England. We mostly deal in bartering these days or bills of credit. I could see what type of agreement we could come to regarding those." He reaches under the counter and pulls out a scale.
"With all due respect, I wouldn't take the gentleman's offer, if I were you." A voice directly behind me gives me a start.
Turning my head, I see the young officer from before, now standing just an arms' length away. "Thank you for your concern—"
"Corporal George Walker of His Majesty's Fortieth Regiment, at your service." He introduces himself without prompting and gives me a coy smile, as I appraise him.
He's tall, but shorter than Cade and with a slighter build. Holding his tricorn tucked under one arm, he bows slightly all the while looking directly at my face. His gray eyes search my own, and I wonder if he's just as intrigued by my presence here as I am by his sudden interest in me.
"Mrs. Penelope Stokes." I extend my hand, surprising even myself at how easily the lie left my lips. Perhaps it's due to months pretending to be Luciana Mercado. Or it could be from Walker's effortless charm and immediate willingness to help. Men like him have always made me weary of their intentions, and it's best if he doesn't know my true identity.
"How do you do, Mistress Stokes?" He places his lips against the back of my hand and a shiver runs through me. Pulling away, I'm momentarily flustered.
"I . . . uhm, I'm very well, thank you." I fiddle with the fabric of my dress. "But I'm in need of currency, and if you advise against this transaction, then I am now left with no other course of action."
He gently takes a hold of my elbow and reaches for my bag's handle. "I know of a—"
Panic overtaking my senses, I step in front of Walker and cut him off. "Thank you, but I can carry my own belongings."
"It's no trouble at all and chivalry dictates—"
"I said no, Corporal." I try to make my voice sound even, in spite of my increasing nerves. Clearing my throat, I add what hopefully will be enough to finally deter him. "You see, my pet is in there and she's rather particular about who she lets close to her."
I poke the bag's side and Ginger lets out a small meow.
Walker slaps his hat onto his brown hair and laughs. "Well, that's certainly something I've never seen before, but very well. May I still offer you my assistance?" He holds out his elbow for me.
I grab my gold bar from the counter, pick up the bag, and nod. Taking his arm, I leave the shop.
Squinting in the sunlight, it takes me a few moments to see four, familiar figures walking up the pier. Ignoring the gold's weight, I step away from the young officer and hastily bid good-bye.
"Thank you for your kindness, Corporal, but my crew has arrived. I must go at once." I nod toward him before hurrying away.