She made no answer. She walked along beside him; at the door of her cabin the man on guard opened the door.
"The waits," he said. "Soon, if this voyage is successful, there will be no waits. I cannot tell you why, but if I get through to port when I expect to, the war will be near its end. I will stay in Philadelphia—"
"Stay there if you wish. I will not. I do not like it nor its strait laces. I do not like its ways."
"Ah, Douglass, then we'll make our own ways. We'll go where we want—it's a big country—and we'll do what we want."
"No," said Douglass. "That's wrong. You, perhaps. Not I. Not we."
"Tomorrow night," said Barney, "I'm going to ask you to marry me. It is my earnest hope, ma'am, that your answer will be in the affirmative." He turned and went to the door. "I'm quite sure you would want at least a day to think it over. Goodnight," he said quickly, and left her.
Chapter 41
THE NIGHT WORE ON. THE GREAT ROUND MOON SET. THE WIND WAS variable, swinging around almost every point of the compass. At exactly four-thirty it sprang up from the northeast.
Macgregor reminded himself it was August, and therefore it could be the herald of a gale. Yet it was still light and tremulous, just enough to bring a mist that would hang deep over the shores of sandy barrier beaches of New Jersey and Delaware, and shroud the bay in drifting wisps of fog.
There would be no dawn this morning, worth seeing. Gradually the grey day would lighten and that would be all.
The mist, though, was light too. It dampened his hair. He took a turn around the deck.
The helmsman waited for him to resume his place near him, so they could talk. Macgregor swung back to him; the ship's bells rang out clearly in the stillness; the watch had two hours yet to run. The helmsman was just about to ask Macgregor a question when Macgregor uttered a sharp exclamation. Through the grey mist he saw a shape.
He let out a volley of oaths addressed to the lookout aloft, who at almost the same moment perceived it too.
The cry came. "Sail-ho!"
Macgregor was already fore and in the shrouds, climbing like a cat, swinging up over the futtock shrouds to gain the masthead.
"Well, four eyes," he growled. "You dumb sons of bitches." He saw what he did not want to see, and he muttered, "Christ Almighty."
He slid the last twenty feet down. The junior officer of the watch was poised at the gangway. "Call the captain," Macgregor shouted as he ran aft.
Barney was sleeping fully dressed save for shoes and coat. He rolled out of his bunk, pulled on his shoes. His mind noted the greyness of the dawn; visibility would be cut down. He shrugged on his coat. In two minutes he was standing on the quarterdeck, glass to eye.
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Looking almost directly to the northeast, over a heaving sea, with the mist already only wispy, he saw clearly the proud outlines of a ship of the line. Sailing before the wind, with mainsail and headsails trimmed for a broad reach—his mind flew ahead.
A fight! "Oh, no!" thought Barney and then realized that for the first time in his life he did not want to fight. The despatches? Douglass? It didn't matter why he didn't want to fight, it was clear that he would have to. The warship was sailing at an angle to her course; soon she would jib, then on the other side of the course she and the "Athena" would meet. He asked himself the first question he always asked. How much time?
He reckoned it. He lowered the glass.
"Mr. Scull," Barney said, "summon all hands. And raise the colors."
He walked over to the rail and waited. As they mustered, fast, he looked down at the rows of faces. Behind him were the officers, and up the masthead went the flag.
There was a moment's silence. Somehow, despite everything, he felt an exhilaration that made his heart beat fast. He looked at his men. He glanced around at the flag; they were prepared to keep it flying.
"Men," he said simply, "in thirty minutes or so we meet the enemy. We are carrying despatches, perhaps the most important of the war; they must get through in time, they must not fall into enemy hands." A cheer went up. He cut it short with a command.
"You may clear for action, Mr. Scull!"
For a second he stood there; then he turned on his heel; there was another matter to attend to, an important one.
He found Wolf on guard at Douglass' door. "You're relieved, Wolf," said Barney. While Wolf said "Aye aye, sir," and darted away, Barney paused before the closed door. Then he knocked.
Esther opened it. Barney stepped in, and closed the door behind him. Esther slipped to one side; Barney forgot her, so did Douglass. They stood watching each other gravely.
Douglass was dressed in a loose filmy dressing gown. Her hair was undone; she stood like a beautiful statue, watching him; then suddenly her voice came through the quiet.
"Barney!"
His face changed. She had spoken his name the way she used to. His eyes shone. He went across the five feet of deck between them,
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gathering her into his arms tight. He kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose. "Oh, Douglass,"' he whispered, holding her even closer. "'I was so afraid you didn't love me!'' He found her lips, then.
Finally he held her away from him. Neither of them spoke. Esther sighed and smiled and looked at both of them but neither saw her at all. Douglass had laid her hands on his shoulders, feeling the cloth of his coat beneath her fingers. He said, "I was so afraid you could not forgive me. I wouldn't blame you."
She shook her head and whispered, "I love you. How much time, Barney?" She smoothed the cloth of his coat with light fingers.
He answered honestly. "Fifteen minutes." He took her in a close strong embrace. "You'll come to no harm," he whispered before he kissed her. She put all her love for him in those kisses, he knew.
He felt her arms around him. He released her lips, pressing her head into his shoulder. He spoke into her soft curls. "Please don't be afraid, Douglass. I'll keep you safe. Don't be afraid." In his mind was the picture of the British warship.
She tipped her head back to look at him. "Fm not afraid."
He said, seeking the right words to reassure her, "Let's get this straight, madam. Fm not going to lose you now. Not to the whole British Navy."
"You'll win. I want you to win," she whispered. "But please be careful!"
He grinned, and hugged her.
"Don't get hurt," she added.
"Fm a damned bridegroom, almost, ma'am," he said. ''And you have to get dressed. Fm leaving Absolom with you. He'll take you to the cable tier, where you'll be safe."
Her eyes searched him. "But you might need Absolom!"
"Those are orders, sweetheart. Goodbye." He kissed her quickly.
Her arms slipped from around him. "Goodbye," she said.
But at the door his voice came again, with a shade of tension. "Get ready, Douglass. Fm giving you only three minutes. Then I want you below."
He closed the door. He would try to keep her safe, but he knew this would be his hardest fight. And never before had he had so much to gain, so much to lose. He ran to his own cabin, grabbed up his heavy belt, the pair of boarding pistols. Then he dashed for the deck again.
The roll of the drums had echoed and died away some minutes
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ago. He was aware of the sound of the ship being readied for action. He lifted the glass to his eye.
Standing there, with the enemy ship captured in the round glass circle, he saw her to be a heavy cruiser, boasting probably forty-four guns, to the "Athena's" thirty-two, and probably at least twenty-five per cent more crew. He felt the wind on his cheeks; he snapped the glass to, glancing up at the weathervane, and over to the enemy ship again. Then he looked across the decks.