“Provisions for several months at sea are needed and as follows...”
Henri listened as quartermaster Udo detailed the provisions required for such a mission before the chamber of officials, who sat rapt if stony-faced and silent. That they were listening to an African, an able commander in his own right, was an extraordinary occurrence. That Udo was free was an affront to these slave-owning Virginians. But Henri would not pander to their preference to exclude his black crew. Nor would he set sail without them.
Udo’s smooth, robust voice filled the chamber’s farthest corners. “Thirteen tierces and forty-five barrels salt beef and pork. A cask of oats. Five hundred gallons rum. Three tons beer. Five hundred pounds cheeses and butter. Fruit to stave off scurvy. Vinegar. Four hundred pounds brown sugar...”
Minutes before, Henri himself had finished telling the councilof the weapons and artillery required to take on any enemy ships encountered, a presentation that smacked of an unwanted war, dug deep into Virginia’s depleted coffers, and raised many a testy question. On either side of him sat Tarbonde and Southack, as well as his first mate and master gunner, all experienced men who knew the sea and its many moods and dangers as well as himself.
His foremost ally among Virginia’s officials was missing. Lord Drysdale—Quinn—had been called away on other business. Henri hoped he’d return by next meeting. Across from Quinn’s empty seat sat Admiral Shaw, ever attentive, occasionally asking a well-placed question and keeping the conversation on course. For all his years—and Henri guessed him to be nearing seventy—his mind was rapier sharp, and he’d not lost his passion for maritime affairs. Which led to a question that had nothing to do with the present company...
Was Esmée also in Williamsburg?
He looked toward a window that bespoke an easterly breeze. The airtight chamber left one pining for the outdoors and a walk about town. The Raleigh flashed to mind, Carter’s brick store beside it. He needed a shaving razor. A woolen frock coat against the chill. Some minor items to tide him over while he lodged at the Raleigh and the governor’s business was being done.
“Captain Lennox, we are prepared to reward your crew with payment of three months’ wages in advance of their service, in addition to all of the provisions outlined by your quartermaster.”
Henri returned his attention to the governor as Udo sat down.
Dinwiddie said with some pride, “A new seventy-four-gun man-of-war is at your behest, en route from the Wharton shipyard in Philadelphia to York.”
Henri sensed his crew’s surprise. They were not easily impressed, but this was a major coup for all. Only the newest and most capable ships were thus equipped. Wharton was the premier shipbuilder in all thirteen colonies.
Did they ken their captain wanted nothing to do with it?
All attention was on Henri again. He simply listened as Dinwiddie called for yet another meeting the next morning, at which timethey would discuss the French navy and its ships of the line en route to British North America, as well as the latest intelligence coming from the harbor of Brest.
“I regret we must adjourn early today, gentlemen. I’ve death warrants to sign for deserters, a decision to be made on the issuance of paper money, appointments to be confirmed, and visiting Indian dignitaries to entertain.” Dinwiddie put a hand to his high forehead, his normally florid face the hue of his powdered wig. “Till tomorrow, then. Ours is a most pressing matter that begs resolution by sennight’s end.”
Henri stood, his attention on the beleaguered official’s back as he exited the chamber. The responsibilities of office dogged the governor, a true servant of the crown. Fatigue of body and vexation of mind were what plagued him, he’d told Henri earlier. As he was charged with taking back Fort Duquesne from the French on the frontier and trying to raise Virginia’s fighting forces, a war by sea seemed another extraordinary complication.
“Won’t you join us, Captain?” Southack asked him, moving toward the door. “A pint or two at the Raleigh seems in order, for some of us, at least.”
“Later, mayhap,” Henri said, putting on his hat. His black jacks would return to York and their lodgings at the Colored Seamen’s Home on the outskirts. “For now I’ve other business to attend to.”
He left the crowded room, slipping out the front door and the palace’s forecourt onto the street, and noticed the Indian delegation recently come to town. The gathered Cherokee were beaded and befeathered, a tall chief having his portrait painted beneath a brilliant red maple. With Publick Times in October over, the town had a quieter feel, a thoughtful and more peaceful cadence.
He took a backstreet toward the Raleigh, trying to recall what it was he needed from Carter’s store. He tipped his hat to a trio of straw-hatted young ladies who tittered and gawked at him as he passed. Comely as they were, they didn’t hold a candle to Esmée.
Why was his every thought ensnared by her?
He pressed on, his coattails whipped about by the strengtheningwind. Nigh on three o’clock. His stomach rumbled, making him consider supper options. After a day crowded with people and war talk, he wanted nothing more than the sanctuary of his lodgings and a fire to ward off the evening’s chill. Quinn had lent him a book from his growing personal library. Fielding’sThe Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon.
But first, Carter’s store.
How good it felt to be out in the open air. Even without a harbor view, Williamsburg had a charm all its own. Eliza had wanted to send a maid in her stead, but Esmée felt the need to walk about alone while her sister napped. She hastened from Nassau Street toward the town’s wide-set thoroughfare with a decisive step, as if anxious to outpace any memories of yesterday’s tea. Mount Autrey cast quite a shadow in her thoughts. But for the moment she didn’t care to contemplate being courted by the sea chaplain, despite Eliza’s glee as they returned to the townhouse in the coach.
“Just think, Sister, we could be nearer neighbors. Mount Autrey lies just beyond Williamsburg. Not only that, you’d be ensconced at one of the oldest plantations in all Virginia, though the old aunties might take some getting used to.”
“You can put all that out of your head once and for all.” Esmée fingered her chatelaine, lingering on the tiny silver lighthouse. “I’m in no more danger of becoming an Autrey than you are being crowned queen of England.”
For once Eliza had made no reply.
Pulling her cape closer about her, Esmée slowed by Williamsburg’s jeweler. A woman jostled her as she went past, causing her to hold tighter to her pocketbook. Pickpockets were commonplace, be it here or York. She looked through the store’s large front window, assessing pinchbeck broaches and necklaces displayed next to sobering mourning jewelry and the pointe naive diamond rings capable of writing on glass. She’d always been most drawn to simple posy rings with their poignant inscriptions exchanged by lovers.
Far off yet not forgot.
God above increase our love.
In Christ and thee my comfort be.
