He cradled his face in his hands. He desperately needed his wife. He needed her forgiveness and he needed her love and this last battle had shown him that.
His life had been one of death and hate. No more. He was choosing joy and love—if Virginia would forgive him and take him back.
“Do you want some grog for the pain, sir?”
Devlin looked at the ship’s surgeon. There was so much pain, but it was in his heart, and he knew the grog would not ease it. Only Virginia could ease it, if she agreed to return to him, if she could forgive him and if she would love him again, just a little. “No.”
A movement sounded. It was the hatch being opened. Both men watched as a pair of very shiny boots came into view, descending the ladder, followed by short thighs encased in bright white britches, a blue jacket, gold buttons, numerous medals and two gold epaulets. Admiral Cockburn faced Devlin and Paul White, as a junior officer descended behind him. It was Thomas Hughes.
Devlin looked at Eastleigh’s son and with some surprise realized that he felt no anger, no rage. He felt nothing at all except an odd indifference—and the intense urge to find his wife.
“How’s Devlin?” Cockburn asked White.
“Got a real sore shoulder, sir, and a right fine lump on the head, but he should be able to resume duties in a few days. I mean, if he weren’t in the brig,” White amended, flushing.
Devlin slowly stood, reaching for his bloodstained shirt, aware of everyone’s eyes upon him. How odd this indifference was, how odd and such a relief. Finally, he was done.
And he felt himself smile as he turned to face Cockburn and Hughes, buttoning up his shirt.He was choosing joy and love.
As Devlin turned, he happened to glance at Hughes. The man’s hostile eyes widened in confusion and surprise when their gazes met. Devlin looked away. He was impatient now to get on with his life, but he had some loose ends to tidy up—he owed Virginia and their unborn child that.
“Release him,” Cockburn said.
“But, sir,” Hughes began in protest. “He murdered British troops!”
Devlin said not a word as he stepped out of the cell, followed by White.
“We’ll speak on deck,” Cockburn said firmly, turning and going aloft first. Ignoring Hughes, who stared, Devlin followed the admiral up to the main deck, where the breeze was gentle, the seas soft, the skies bright and blue. In fact, they had never been brighter or bluer.
He smiled and in his mind’s eye he saw Virginia, her expression bright, forgiving him, wanting him, and his heart quickened. Devlin quickly took in his surroundings. He instantly recognized where they were—just outside the mouth of the Chesapeake, perhaps a mile from the Virginia shore. The day looked to remain pleasant and he did not feel any stronger wind coming. He saw they were tacking south at three or four knots. He could be at Sweet Briar within two hours. He could not wait.
“I am being released?” he asked as Tom Hughes joined them.
“Yes, you are. Unfortunate events occur in battle, my boy, and I’ll be damned if I am losing my best captain over some bloody frogs. Besides, any man would have acted as you did to protect his wife.”
Hughes seemed to choke.
“It was a stunning triumph,” the admiral continued. “I will make full reference to the part played by your marines and theDefiance.A good job, Captain, a very good job, indeed.” Cockburn smiled at him.
Devlin did not want to discuss the terrible battle of Hampton. He chafed to leave. Instead, he faced his commanding officer. “I am resigning my commission, Admiral.”
Cockburn gaped. So did Tom Hughes at his side.“What?”the admiral cried.
Devlin smiled. “I do believe you heard me,” he said. “Excuse me. I am going home.” Leaving both men staring in disbelief, he strode to his cabin, something light and joyful unfurling in his chest, like a ready sail in a fresh breeze.
He knew nothing about joy and love but surely Virginia could teach him. For she knew enough about those things for the both of them.
And he laughed.
Then, still smiling, he sat and quickly penned the resignation, blew it dry and folded it, then sealed it with wax. He returned to the deck outside, handing the notice of his resignation to Cockburn. “I would recommend turning the command of theDefianceover to Red Barlow,” he said.
Cockburn was livid. “If I didn’t know better, I would call you a coward, sir.” He signaled his men, indicating that he wished to be taken to his flagship, stalking off.
Devlin shrugged, not perturbed. Then he turned and faced an incredulous Tom Hughes. “I have something for you,” he said mildly.
“Is this a trick? If so, it is exceedingly clever,” Hughes accused, stiff with alarm and watching Devlin’s hands as if he expected to be assaulted with a dagger.
“My tricks are done. The game is over,” Devlin said, “and I am wasting time. Here.” He handed another parchment to Hughes, written while in the brig earlier that day.
