“What year?” Alex cried.
“It’s 1802,” Neilsen said gravely.
Itwas1802!Alex stared blindly, her pulse pounding in her ears, her heart banging against her ribs: 1802! Xavier Blackwell had been taken prisoner in June of 1803! She had time-traveled, all right, but she had arrived in Tripoli an entire year too early.
PART TWO
CAPTIVE
6
Boston
March 17, 1802
THE DRAPERIES WEREdrawn in the library of Blackwell House.
Xavier Blackwell stood by the green marble mantel, his expression impossible to read. The room was dark, left in shadow. Yet outside, he knew, it was a glorious spring day. Yet Xavier hardly felt the effects of the sunshine and birdsong. He was preoccupied.
What did Markham Blackwell want? A quiet, terse argument was taking place in the room. Xavier did not participate, although he heard every word being exchanged by his father and his uncle. He sensed the possibilities. Sensed that the time for revenge had come.
“We lost three ships in as many years,” Markham Blackwell thundered, using the persuasive charisma he was famous for. “Losing both theFernand theAbbywere not so bad; thank the Lord our crews escaped. But last year we lost theSarah.”
Xavier’s heart constricted. He looked at his father, who had turned gray.
“You do not have to remind me of the loss of theSarah,”William said heavily. Xavier looked away. TheSarahhad been a six-ton merchantman bound from Marseilles for the West Indies. The ship had been seized in a bloody four-hour battle, which had cost the crew five lives. The rest of the crew had recently been ransomed from the bashaw of Tripoli, along, with the nearly irreparably damaged ship, for the exorbitant sum of fifty-five thousand dollars. To make matters even worse, the greedy regent had also demanded that Blackwell Shipping build him a ten-gun schooner—and deliver it when it was ready.
Xavier had objected, but William still ran the company and he had agreed to build and deliver the schooner.
“Vittault has lost two ships this year alone,” Markham continued, referring to one of their competitors. “He has forty-five sailors in captivity in Algiers, for godsakes! Braddock has also lost a vessel this season. Where does this all end, William?”
William Blackwell, the older of the two brothers, was grave. “I am well aware of the rape of American shipping by the Barbary pirates, Markham, just as I am fully aware of our own personal losses. But we have only just sent a naval squadron there. Let the damn navy do what they’ve been sent to the Mediterranean for!”
Markham, the United States senator from Massachusetts, sighed. “But don’t you understand? They want to make Jefferson look like a fool! They are convinced that Hamilton will win the next election. Three quarters of the navy is Federalist! They will not succeed, they do not dare, while Thomas is president. God forbid they should make Thomas look good.”
“I refuse to believe that every single naval officer is a Federalist and politically motivated,” William said stubbornly. “Surely there exists some patriotism in our navy?”
Markham sighed. “You are not thinking clearly. You are allowing your personal feelings to stand in the way of the only decision left for you to make. It is not just the future of Blackwell Shipping that is at stake. It is not just the future of your son, and one day, your son’s sons. It is the future of American shipping!” Markham cried in a deep, resonant voice. It was the same powerful voice that had won him the last election. “It is the future of America, and at issue is freedom of the seas.”
William turned away, grim. His glance met Xavier’s.
Xavier sipped the brandy he was holding, regarding his father carefully. He would not allow his own feelings to show. God knew, he hid them often enough from even himself.
Markham continued. “Shall we forever be at the mercy of a thief? The bashaw is nothing more than that. Why do we owe him tribute? So we shall not be plundered when we sail the free seas? We have to bribe him with gold and guns in order to carry on our commerce? And look how happy this makes the French and British! They can afford to pay those pirates exorbitant sums, they can afford to lavish incredible gifts upon them, year after year, and they are thrilled that we bear the brunt of their rapacious plundering because we do not hold to blackmail and bribery! William, surely you understand that France and England wish for us to fight the corsairs? Because they fear our new and growing wealth, our new prosperity—the potential of this mighty country.”
“You are not lobbying for reelection. Markham,” William said softly.
Xavier wanted to add,Hear, hear,but he remained silent. Markham was lobbying, however.
“This situation is untenable!” Markham cried. He faced Xavier. “Do you not agree?” he demanded.
Xavier regarded his uncle for a moment before replying. “Yes, I do agree.” he finally said.
Markham waited, his hands on his hips. He wore a bold red frock coat, and white lace cuffs cascaded over his fists. “Is that all you have to say?”
“You have fine words. But actions are far more efficacious,” Xavier said.
Markham smiled. “Yes, actions do speak louder than words, and we all know that you are a man of action, not a man of letters.” He glanced across the room at the closed teakwood library door. “Which is why I am here.”
