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"I wish I had fifty guineas," yelled an English voice, after the chair.

The woman put her head out. She had a French accent. "It would cost you one hundred, Limey."

Douglass leaned out of the chair to listen, but there was no more dialogue. The woman was carried around the nearest comer. Douglass became aware that a man in the uniform of a French naval officer was looking at her. He stared. Douglass retreated into the chair again. After a while she peered out; he was gone.

Still there was no sight of the man for whom she waited.

Joshua also might be along. She had not seen Joshua since the night he had told her he was sending her to Stasia. She wished passionately that an opportunity would offer itself by which she could prove to him that she wished only to return to the States with him, but he would be skeptical now. The trouble was that unless he came soon, and would listen to her, she would be sent back to England before she could even speak with him. She moved restlessly in the chair. She had left Lucie behind, at the Governor's mansion. If Joshua came up the street, she wanted to talk to him alone.

She kept her thoughts on Joshua. Her real hope was to see Barney. There were so many men in the streets that it was hard to see more than forty feet down the dirt road. She clasped her hands tightly over her reticule. Suddenly, in front of her very eyes, a street fight exploded.

In less than two minutes, at least fifty men rushed out of the nearest taverns; they battled savagely. A window shattered; a couple of shots rang out; yells sounded. And at the second sound of gunfire, Douglass' bearers fled.

"Come back," she cried helplessly, watching them take to their heels. Impelled by fear, she thought that perhaps running was the

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safest thing for her to do, and she opened the chair door and got out into the street.

A Spanish sailor hurtled almost to her feet. He stumbled, got up, drawing his knife, and plunged back into the fray again. Douglass saw one man hurled back against an anchor. Agilely he flew over it in a backward somersault. "Yank, Yank!" came the crv- for aid, and after it, "Athena! Athena!"

Douglass knew she should run, but she held onto the chair door, paralyzed with wonder, with amazement. Two more pistol shots cracked through the air; she shrank back. The fighting had surged both up and down the street, and just as she was about to take to her heels, another man was spewed out of the melee almost at her feet. He got up on all fours, then stared at her.

"Oh," she gasped. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "Goddamn Limeys," he said breathlessly. "We got more Yanks now." He stood up; he was covered with dirt. Suddenly he reached for her.

"Let me go," cried Douglass, struggling wildly.

She almost got free. In quick succession five more shots sounded. While they rang out, Douglass found herself seized hard by one arm, and swung around. Then, across ten feet of cleared space, she saw Barney running toward her.

"Barney!" she cried.

Barney was right beside her, a pistol in each hand. She gave a quick glance at his face. "Oh, no!" she cried, fearfully, catching at his arm, clinging to it. "No, Barney!" she repeated wildly. The sailor was rooted to the spot right before her eyes. "Do not harm him!"

For a second Barney looked at him. Then there was an amazing rapid-fire change of expression on his face: anger tp puzzlement to amusement. He took her by the arms lightly, looking down into her face. "Sweetheart!" He smiled. Her little flowered parasol, attached by a loop on her wrist, swung between them. A disarranged curl fell over her forehead; her sash was undone.

"Are you all right, Douglass?" he asked. "Good God—" He broke off, and shook his head incredulously. His eyes took her in again. Then he said, "I can't believe it's you. Turn around, sweetheart, and I'll tie your sash."

"I'll tie it, Barney," she whispered. But for a moment neither of them moved.

Then Barney dropped her arms. He watched her as she tied the

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sash. She looked so sweet; she had fastened her black-fringed eyes on him. When she had finished tying the bow she clasped her hands and waited.

He smiled and took her arm. He looked around as if to get his bearings. "We can't stand here, Douglass. Is this your chair?"

"Yes, Barney." She caught her lip in her teeth. She thought of something else to tell him. "I didn't really go into Lower Town. I was waiting. And my bearers fled!"

Since no harm had come of the adventure, Barney looked amused. "Please get in the chair." He helped her in, and spoke to the two men who were standing patiently, waiting. "You may put the box in here. Wolf."

The box Wolf was carrying was shoved in. Barney got in too and closed the door. The two sailors picked the chair up. Once more Barney surveyed her. "Before we do anything else, ma'am, like kissing, you might tell me where you live."

Douglass caught his eye. "At the Governor's," she said. "But—"

"No buts," Barney said gravely. "The Governor's, Wolf," he called. He stretched out his legs, turned toward her a little. "Wolf is my coxswain."

The chair swayed gently. Douglass sank back into the cushions; Barney's arm brushed hers. She knew what his next remark would be; and it came quickly.

"I gather you know I'm amazed to see you here, Mrs. Harris."

"And I can't believe it's you either, or that I'm me!"

"Bad grammar. Speak up."

She said simply, "Joshua is sending me home."

He shook his head slowly, remembering. She was looking at him as if he could do something about it. "I warned you not to tell him, Douglass."

"I couldn't help it, Barney!" The words flew out. Then she was quiet, remembering herself. Once more she fastened her eyes on him. "Joshua told me to tell him the truth."

Barney smiled ruefully. "So you did." He sighed. "And that is that." He reached out and took her hand, turning it over in his big one. It looked white and fragile next to his; he flexed her fingers back and forth in his. "What else, sweetheart?"

"I sail for England."

"I see," he said. He raised an eyebrow, keeping her hand imprisoned in his. "When?"

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"When?" she repeated. "Why I don't quite know, Captain." She spoke fast, trying to still the rapid beating of her heart. "I—the British resident—I talked to him. My cousin's cousin—Lord Edge-comb's cousin—he owns part interest in a merchantman, the 'Falcon.' I sail on her."

At this Barney looked very amused. His brilliant smile flashed out.

"Yes," said Douglass uncertainly. "Why do you laugh?" Then since he didn't seem disposed to answer and was still smiling, she asked, "And what is in the box?"

"A snapping turtle," Barney said.

"Oh, lord," she exclaimed, drawing her legs away.

Barney laughed. "I'll save you from the turtle. The turtle has 'Lord Sandwich' carved on his back, but instead of going to England, he is a present to the Governor."

Douglass tried to maintain her decorum. What was he smiling at? "Did you have a successful voyage?" she asked, her cool voice clipping off the words.

"A bad storm hit Rodney, Nine-tenths of the fleet was disabled, including the flagship, 'Sandwich.' Cordage was badly needed but American, French and Spanish merchants had bought it all up, fast. So Rodney sent to England. In the meantime, the 'Athena' roved about almost unchallenged. Besides that, through the clever intelligence of the Marquis de Bouille, we got a false report credited; we spread the rumor that St. Vincents and Kingston had been leveled by the hurricane that almost leveled Barbados. Rodney proceeded on that false information and spent two weeks maneuvering only to find the island impregnable and its fortifications prepared for his attacking forces. Tomorrow I send five more prizes back to Philadelphia, including Lord North, the snapping turtle, for Robert Morris."