CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
After a Custom’s inspection Richard had to be rowed to the Harbor Master’s office on an outer quay at the docks to present his clearances.
“You will have to unload all the manifested gunpowder at the city’s magazine on smaller Manhattan Island, Captain; it is standard procedure and you will be furnished with a receipt,” instructed the Harbor Master and then, as an afterthought, said, “Welcome back.”
Sir Thomas had lost weight and now sipped tea after his lunch, forgoing his usual cognac.
“The Situation in the Colonies has worsened since you left, Digby. Some damn fools dressed up as Indians boarded a ship in Boston and dumped the tea chests into the harbor as a protest against the tea tax over a year ago. The colonials have set up a Continental Congress giving the thirteen colonies a form of self-rule but our government in London has taken a stern line and suspended self-government in Massachusetts.” Sir Thomas reached for a snifter, then realized there was only tea. He sipped the cold liquid and gave a shudder. “General Thomas Gage is Governor and he will not stand any nonsense: I understand he intends to carry out a series of searches to seek and destroy any catches of weapons and munitions. I dare say your cargo will fetch a premium but suggest you do not swamp the market and release them a few at a time,” now if you will excuse me, Digby, I have endless meetings to endure,” Sir Thomas struggled up and shook Richard’s hand in what was to be their last meeting.
Richard had a busy afternoon; he had to check on Rebecca, now ensconced in a reputable hotel. William had reluctantly agreed to accompany her provided he was able to return to his work on board Juliet when time permitted. He met up with Simpson outside the hotel and took a cab to Wentworth’s gun shop. Simpson carried two of the boxed muskets.
“There will be no problem facilitating the sale of my father’s guns, Captain: the citizens are concerned and I have a waiting list. Being individual pieces they can command top prices, and may I commend you on their finish?” Wentworth asked.
“You may commend the armorer himself and his assistant.” Richard inclined his head towards Simpson, who flushed with pride.
“Now, as to the Beretta barreled weapons, are they all rifled? If they are, you can name your own price.” Wentworth asked Richard, who, unable to answer, turned to Simpson.
“About half them are, Sir, the remainder are smooth bores,” said Simpson.
Richard cut in before the number of weapons was revealed. “Draw up a list of probable sales, Mr. Wentworth, and we will advise you of availability,” leaving the weapons, Richard and Simpson returned to Juliet, not realizing there would be only two sales through the Wentworth Gun Shop.
The next two weeks passed in a flash. Rebecca completely recovered from the sea voyage, enjoyed being given a tour of New York’s scenery restaurants and picnics in the countryside. All that came to an end when Rebecca’s hotel informed her they were fully booked and that she would have to leave.
At first Richard paid no heed to the hotel’s request, thinking that perhaps a ship was due in and passengers had made prior bookings – but when a second hotel pleaded fully booked he became suspicious. Both hotels obviously had spare rooms. When they were turned away from a third and somewhat less salubrious establishment, Richard suspected a conspiracy. He immediately had Rebecca taken back to Juliet and began to make enquires.
His request for a meeting with Sir Thomas was turned down because of pressures of work and a second request was ignored. Similar requests to Doctor Waverly and James Ponsonby were similarly ignored, and Richard became apprehensive. It was Wentworth the elder who made contact with Richard and requested a meeting, but at an inn, not his shop.
“The word is out around the town, Captain: The banker Brownlow has called in many of the favors owed to him here in the Colonies. He has considerable influence, not only financially but also politically. Your good reputation here has so far avoided an arrest, but that will change once Brownlow has marshaled enough support. Merchants have been warned not to deal with you if they wish to have future access to finance; I have claimed your two guns have been presold and give you the sale price along with my sincere best wishes for the future. Let me advise you it should not be in New York,” Wentworth pushed folded pound notes across the table, clasped Richard’s hand and almost ran from the inn. Richard had not said a word.
Richard made up his mind and discussed a plan with Rebecca; she agreed that they should leave New York as soon as possible.
“Have we enough crew for coastal sailing?” Richard asked Andrew.
“Aye Captain, only twenty men were paid off and they were local lads with families; the remainder are on full pay with maintenance duties,” Andrew answered.
“Prepare the ship for sailing at dawn, First Officer we will make for Nantucket after reloading the gunpowder,” ordered Richard.
“Aye, Sir,” and Juliet began to come alive.
The cloudy morning obscured the rising sun, but at the filtering of light through the clouds Juliet slipped her moorings and made for Little Manhattan Island. They had a two-hour wait before magazine master arrived and kept a furious Richard waiting for another hour.
“I am afraid your cargo has been confiscated,” began the magazine master.
“You are referring to my gunpowder I take it, and by whose authority?” Richard asked, making a determined effort to control himself.
“Why, by the Governor himself no less,” smirked the magazine master, “something to do with the lack of the original owners’ receipts and other paperwork; you may of course reclaim your cargo once it is all sorted out,” replied the master of magazines. Richard stood up and left without a further word before he blew up.
“Set sail for Nantucket, First Officer, I desperately need fresh air,” ordered Richard, thankful that he had appropriated ten barrels of French powder to augment Juliet’s defenses.
Nantucket had changed little from the town he had left years ago. The sand bar that would eventually close the harbor to whaling ships had encroached further and there were some new council buildings and other amenities, but the town still relied heavily on the monies generated by the whaling industries. Captain Smith was away at sea but was expected back within a month. It was Rebecca who took the initiative and suggested they meet with Captain Smith’s wife.
Abigail Smith’s stern countenance concealed a warm heart and a love of meeting people, especially when her husband was away for long periods at sea. Rebecca had made her a present of fine Italian lace, and they immediately became like mother and daughter. Richard was content to play second fiddle.
“What a story, my dear,” began Abigail. “Young heiress elopes from a rich tyrannical father who pursues her by proxy to the Colony to harass and confine her future husband who just happens to be a hero of the Colonial Army and a prosperous Captain to boot. The locals will love it and you, my dear, have no fear: you will be protected here. More tea, Captain Digby?”
“Thank you, Madam, I think I will take a stroll to regain my land legs if you do not mind,” said Richard.
“Of course not, Captain, you may leave us women to gossip and intrigue.”
Richard returned in an hour, thanked Abigail for her hospitality and escorted Rebecca back to Juliet.
“Well?” Richard asked.
“Well what?” Rebecca replied innocently.
“You know very well what, my dear – did Abigail give us any contacts that would be interested in the purchase of our firearms?” Richard asked.
“It is all arranged, we women are good at that: three local men of substance who just happen to be members of the Sons of Liberty will arrive unannounced and anonymous at Juliet within a week to arrange the inspection and purchase of arms on behalf of the Massachusetts Congress in exile,” replied Rebecca smugly.
Gentleman number one whistled in Richard’s cabin after an introductory glass of the last of the cognac.
“Almost five hundred new pieces and half of them rifles: this I must see.” Gentleme
n two and three agreed and Richard led them to the hold.
“Do you not think them too grand for military use?” Gentleman Number Two asked after viewing the unboxed weapons.
“I think not we gentlemen will use them as a personal weapon, freeing up our previous pieces for other ranks,” replied Gentleman Number Three.
“Despite their slower rate of fire the rifles will give us an advantage over the British Regulars?” pointed out Gentleman Number One. “Do you have a price Captain?”
Richard wrote a figure on a bill of sale and handed it to him. The other two gentlemen crowded around.
“Will you accept a ten percent discount for cash, Captain?” Gentleman Number One asked. Mindful of his banking problems, Richard readily agreed.
“Although it is no longer my business, gentlemen, where is the weapons’ initial destination?” Richard asked.
“Oh, just a small out of the way place called Concord,” answered Gentleman Number Three.
“Are we rich?” Rebecca asked.
“Rich enough to be married my love; pity about the gunpowder,” replied Richard.
“Oh tosh to the gunpowder, can we have a honeymoon as well, Richard?” Rebecca always used Richard’s Christian name when she wanted something.
“How about a cruise to the Caribbean, sunshine, fine beaches, exotic food and not a care in the world?” offered Richard.
“How wonderful, darling: no naval ships to dodge or customs to placate,” Rebecca clapped her hands in delight.
“Well, there is the small matter of a cargo of oil and timber down and sugar and rum back,” Richard dodged a cushion and it knocked over a perfume bottle.
The Reverent Simmons was delighted to arrange the marriage of Richard and Rebecca. The Church of England parish of Saint George in Nantucket was something of a punishment dealt to vicars who had upset the Bishop in some way. The population of Nantucket was mainly Puritan with a few Quakers and Baptists filling the gap. The Reverend’s open door policy of reaching out to all faiths had been met with a wall of silence and polite indifference; the wedding would be a chance to make his mark in the community.
The community responded by filling the small church and spilling out onto the lawns. All the major families attended, including some dignitaries from outside Nantucket. Captain Smith gave away the bride and Andrew acted as best man. Rebecca looked like a princess in a gown of white French satin fashioned lovingly if rather conservatively by Abigail Smith and her sewing circle. The austerely dresses citizens of Nantucket appreciated Richard’s dark blue naval uniform devoid of sparkling spaghetti. The newlywed couple escaped the sea of flowers to the sea beneath Juliet sailing to the islands of the Caribbean.
That night, after Richard had slipped into Rebecca’s bed, he started to shake violently.
“What is the matter my love are you cold?” Rebecca asked with alarm and took him into her arms.
“No, I am not cold, just very nervous,” answered Richard.
“You? Nervous? I cannot imagine why,” said Rebecca.
“Well it is just that I have only done it once before,” confessed Richard.
“Well I have never done it before, husband, so it should be me who is shaking. We will be exploring more than the Caribbean, will we not?” asked Rebecca.
They did explore their bodies, finding out what made Rebecca quiver, squeak and finally shake and Richard to gasp before exploding, and then both collapsing exhausted in each other’s arms.