For two weeks, Maddie and Nipper changed lodging nightly out of fear that she would be discovered. Every day, the groom went to the dock to ask after an American ship, and it was a period of distress for a girl who felt vulnerable and defenseless. When Stephen charged into the inn on a raw October afternoon, Maddie fell into his arms, sobbing with relief.
“I never should have allowed him to take you,” Stephen said.
“Forgive me,” Maddie said. “To see you again has me weeping for joy. I am not sad, honestly.”
“Your man here claims you have had all you could ask for,” Stephen said. “Were you well cared for?”
“Everything, yes, I have been given everything,” she said. “But I am
so lonely, and I am suffocating.”
“I shall take you with me,” he said. “But you cannot run away again, baby girl. That has been the cause of this ordeal, your misbehavior at home.”
“I wrote the Admiral,” she said.
“I posted the letter, sir,” Nipper said. “Though he’ll not see a word of it until Christmas, I expect. The time’s come, now, miss. We’ve talked about it these many days.”
“Come along at once or we shall miss the tide,” Stephen said.
The smell of salt air was like a tonic to Maddie, able to breath once the Ariadne was sailing past the coast near Dover. She believed that her presence was a pleasant diversion for Stephen, who was unexpectedly talkative. Best of all, he spoke to her as an adult, although his favorite topic was Anna Willoughby, the daughter of a Charleston factor whose ships carried Beauchamp rice and indigo around the world. In spite of lending an attentive ear, Maddie did not receive the same consideration from her brother when she tried to discuss the various gentlemen she had met, dismissing them all as unworthy of a flower of the American republic.