Anthony looked up as he came down the steps at Government house. Bart was standing there under some palm trees with two horses. He was waiting, but without any degree of enthusiasm. Anthony and Bart had ridden many times, but neither was comfortable on a horse’s back. The “note” Anthony had been given by the commodore’s wife the previous evening instructed the use of horses rather than a carriage, in that they were less conspicuous. The unsigned note also included a time and a set of directions-nothing further. A signed note could have been damaging and scandalous if it fell into the wrong hands. Nevertheless, Anthony had known the author from the time it was placed in his hand. The anticipated meeting caused both excitement and apprehension.
Anthony had never courted a proper “lady.” He had had his share of women over the years but they were different, much different. As he and Bart made their way, Anthony took in the view and tranquillity of the peaceful island. The sea and the sky seemed to merge. Off in the distance, he could see a small island and Potter’s Cay. A gentle wind blew through the palm trees, and birds floated lazily on the air. Anthony and Bart were upon their destination before either realized it. Each had been content to absorb the sun and take in the sights.
The house was more of a summer cottage. It had a large porch that wrapped around three sides. The front room was a large parlor. A breezeway separated the main part of the house from the kitchen and the servant’s quarters. A small stable and outbuildings were behind the house.
As Anthony dismounted, Lady Deborah stepped out of the cottage onto the porch. “You can put the horses out back,” she said.
Bart took Anthony’s horse and questioned, “Do you want me to wait, sir?”
“No,” Anthony replied. “It may be a long wait.” Bart didn’t fail to notice the twinkle in Anthony’s eyes as he spoke. Anthony took a couple of guineas from his pocket and gave ‘em to the cox’n. “Enjoy a drink or two before you return to the ship. I’d think it amiss if you made it before the last dog watch.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll have a wet and maybe a little something extra.” Then he was gone.
Turning back to Lady Deborah, Anthony realized that as lovely as the countryside was, it dulled in comparison to the beauty of the woman standing before him. She was wearing a simple gown of emerald green made of a lightweight gauze material. A slight wind blew at her hair and molded the gown to her body, giving ample proof of the woman beneath the cloth. The scene reminded Anthony of a sculpture of a Greek goddess. He felt his breath quicken and blurted, “My God, Lady Deborah. You are beautiful.”
Lady Deborah smiled as she reached for his hand and led him into the cottage. “Please,” she said, “There must be no formality between us. Let it be Deborah and Gil.”
As they sat down for refreshments, Anthony realized Deborah was pouring lemonade for the two of them. That meant she had sent the servants away. After finishing their refreshments Deborah came over to
Anthony’s chair.
“You must think me a wanton woman,” she said.
“Nonsense,” he replied. “You have created in me a feeling I’ve neven felt before. I felt it from the moment you came aboard Drakkar. I feel it even more now. You make me feel…alive. It may be shameless of me, but I have to tell you for the first time in my life I feel out of control.”
“Oh, Gil,’’ she responded, then she was in his arms. Everything else was a blur. He kissed her…long and passionately. She responded with a hungry kiss of her own. His hand found her breast and she pulled it tight to her. His lips were on her face, neck and then to her chest and finally her breast.
Anthony awoke at dawn and they made love again. As he dressed, Anthony gazed at Deborah as she sat up in bed. “Do you know how hard it is for me to leave with you sitting there like that?”
“Obviously not too difficult,” she answered. “You continue to dress.”
“But not with my usual vigor, my love,” he replied, putting on his boots. “When can I see you publicly?”
Deborah took a moment before she responded. “A year is the usual time for mourning, but out here we could get by with six months.”
“Six months-damme that is a long time. I want to be with you every minute I can.”
Smiling, she said, “Then you’ll have to be content to slip into my bedroom and force your desires on me.” “Besides,” she continued, “it must be kept discreet from all, save Greta.”
“Who is Greta?” interrupted Anthony.
“The commodore’s wife,” Deborah explained.
He was right. They were confidants.
“Anyway,” Deborah continued again, “Greta tells me you’re getting Drakkar and those little ships ready and will be sailing soon.”
Anthony nodded. He suddenly felt depressed at the thought of leaving Deborah so soon after he’d found her.
Sensing his mood, Deborah left the bed and came to him. He hugged her close, feeling her bosom and stomach drawn tightly against him. Their kiss was long and loving.
Deborah could feel the roughness of his uniform against her body. She could make out the faint odor of tar mixed with salt. These were odors of her sailor, her love.
“Don’t worry, my darling,” she said, “I’ll always be here waiting when you return.”
Chapter Eight
The wind had backed to the Southwest. Drakkar had every inch of canvas spread and was laid close to the centerline, yet she clawed for every yard. The two schooners appeared to be making a better time of it. This is what they were rigged for. They were built for speed, like greyhounds on the ocean. However, their light, fragile hulls made them more vulnerable to gunfire if they couldn’t escape to windward. A schooner had two masts with two equal sized mainsails, gaff-rigged and extended by booms. The topsails were square rigged with a square mainsail. Anthony had heard the master commenting to young Davy about what a sight they made under full canvas.
“Fine sight ‘eh lad? I’ll give it to the Colonials. They knows how to make a fine ship.”
“Colonials made those ships?” Davy asked.
“Aye, lad. Schooners are a product of North America. Just as a cutter was made for the coast off Kent and Sussex.”
Looking at the schooners, Anthony thought of Gabe. He could imagine how he and Lieutenant Earl were enjoying their freedom, being out from under the “commodore.”
“Deck there,” called down the masthead lookout. “LeFoxxe is signaling.”
“Ship, nay two ships, off the larboard bow.”
Anthony turned and saw Buck with a glass to his eye.
“Acknowledge,” Anthony said. “Have them investigate but not engage if it’s a superior force.”
“Mr. Davy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take a glass and go aloft. Let me know as soon as we are in sight of the two vessels.”
“Aye, sir.” Then up the ratlines the youth went, his energy and desire to please not lost on Anthony. A few minutes later Davy shouted down, “Two ships lying to, sir.”
Buck rolled his eyes and muttered, “Gawd have mercy!”
“Can you be more definitive, Mr. Davy?” Anthony called up, trying not to laugh at Buck’s frustrated comment. He knew the regular lookout, a seasoned sailor, could have called down the sighting, but Anthony wanted Mr. Davy to get the experience.