“Will Masterson was with the army in Toulouse when Napoleon abdicated. I’m told he’s resigning his commission and heading for home across the Peninsula.” Gordon grinned. “I wonder if he intends to pay a visit to the cellar where we shared that deplorable brandy and discussed what we would do in the unlikely case we survived. Masterson is planning to settle down to a staid and boring life now.”
“He may be staid, but I doubt he’ll be boring.” Hawkins took a thoughtful sip of ale. “I wonder if all five rogues are still alive. We live in dangerous times.”
“You more than most, if I read your occasional letters properly. You’ve been keeping yourself busy as a blockade runner?”
“Yes, but with peace breaking out and fewer blockades to run, I may have to turn respectable,” Hawkins said with wry humor.
“Did you run any blockades to ports in the United States? The Chesapeake Bay, by preference. If so, I might have some work for you.”
Hawkins’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve made runs up the bay as far as Baltimore. One of my men grew up near there and he knows the waters as well as any man living. What sort of job? With the Royal Navy bashing about the Chesapeake, sailing there now would be even more dangerous than regular blockade running.”
“It’s a rescue mission and needs to take place as quickly as possible.” Gordon briefly described what needed to be done.
Hawkins considered. “That sounds simpler than blockade running. MyZephyrcan outrun anything in the Royal Navy. If the price is right, I can do this.”
Gordon smiled. “Then let’s talk about it.”
Chapter 3
Washington, DC
August 20, 1814
Callie brushed a lock of damp hair from her eyes, then dried her fingers on a towel before she returned to pinning delicate silk. Like its namesake, the rebellious General Washington, this young capital city was fresh and exciting in comparison to her Lancashire home, but the hot and humid summer had her wishing wistfully for the soft, cool summers of her childhood. She tucked another pin into the gown she was altering for Mrs. Gerard, one of her best customers. The wife of a high official in President Madison’s cabinet, Mrs. Gerard accepted a clean linen handkerchief from Sarah, Callie’s housekeeper, cook, assistant, and friend.
After murmuring thanks, Mrs. Gerard said soberly, “We’ve decided to move to our country house for the rest of the summer. It will be safer there, and we’ll get away from the heat and illness of this malaria-infested swamp.”
Washington was famous for its unhealthy climate, but not everyone had a country house to escape the summer heat. Callie said, “The Royal Navy has been plundering the Chesapeake Bay for over a year. What does Mr. Gerard think will happen now?”
“Since Napoleon’s abdication has released British Army troops to come here, the cities around the bay are in danger of land invasion. If troops are landed on the Patuxent River, they can march to Washington, Annapolis, or Baltimore.”
Similar thoughts had been keeping Callie awake at night. Luckily, her customers kept her better informed than the news sheets. “Wouldn’t Baltimore be the most likely target because of its shipping and privateers? They say the Royal Navy admirals call Baltimore ‘that nest of pirates.’ ”
“Yes, and justly so,” Mrs. Gerard agreed. “But I wish this war was over.”
“So do I!” Callie accidentally stabbed her finger with a pin. “I’ve never seen the point of it.”
Before Mrs. Gerard could reply, the door to the dress shop flew open. Callie’s fourteen-year-old stepson, Trey, his black curls rioting around his face, burst into the salon. “The British have landed over on the Patuxent!”
Everyone in the parlor froze. “Speak of the devil,” Mrs. Gerard muttered, turning pale. “And here they are.”
Callie clamped down on her fear. Trey had an enthusiastic interest in the war, but he wasn’t prone to spreading wild rumors. “Where did you hear this?”
“An army scout just brought the news to President Madison!” Trey said excitedly. “Now the scout is at a tavern telling everyone.”
She had a chilling certainty that the British would attack Washington. Baltimore was a more valuable target, but also much more difficult. Capturing the American capital would be easier, and it would crush and humiliate the fragile new republic.
The fitting session ended more quickly than usual so Mrs. Gerard could hasten home. Wanting to preserve normalcy for as long as possible, Callie said to Trey and his sister, Molly, “Shall we make a lemon ice for supper? We’ll need lemons. Run down to the market, if you would. Molly, try to keep Trey out of trouble!”
Sixteen-year-old Molly laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible, but I’ll do my best.”
The ice house Callie had had dug behind her home had proved a godsend in this climate. There had been an ice house at her English home, but not the heat that made ices so particularly wonderful here.
Callie waited until the children were gone before turning to Sarah. A handsome woman in her fifties, Sarah Adams and her husband Joshua had been house slaves at the Jamaica plantation of Callie’s husband, Matthew Newell. When Callie had fled the island with the children, she’d asked the couple if they wanted to come with her. When they said yes, she’d freed them immediately. Now Sarah and Joshua were as much family as her two stepchildren; a better family than the one she’d grown up with.
“What should we do, Miss Callista?” Sarah said. “Reckon Mrs. Gerard is right that the British soldiers will march on Baltimore?”
Callie worried her lip as she wondered how best to keep her family safe. “My instincts say they’ll head for Washington.”
