Anna couldn’t help her tears now, not with all the devotion David Bartleby had shown her and the children, protecting them every moment her husband had been away, complaining about nothing, even though his own lot was bitter.
‘Sir, I don’t know what to say,’ David said, clearly overcome.
‘Knowing you, you’ll think of something, Private Bartleby, and perhaps test my patience again.’
‘Well, there’s that…’
‘I have another request.’ He kissed Anna’s head. ‘The Admiral has given me leave to continue to provide protection for my dear ones. When you find your wife, she has my permission to come with you to Port Mahon and help Anna with our household.’ He gave her a nudge. ‘There might eventually be more children to tend.’ He raised his eyebrows at the Marine. ‘Perhaps yours, too? Go on with you now. Get my crew back to theSwallow. I’ll join them in the morning.’
‘Aye aye, sir!’ David snapped to attention, turned and whistled his way into the house.
Anna put her arms around her husband. ‘You make me weak-kneed.’
He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him, not caring if anyone in the house was watching. It was dark, and she doubted that his young crew thought someone as ‘old’ as the captain had a body or passions.
‘Does that help?’ he asked. ‘Anna, I could sleep for a week, but I don’t think I will tonight. The world thinks sailors are a randy lot and I believe I will keep proving it.’
They laughed. He set her down, and they started a slow walk to the house. Pru and Allan stood waiting by the veranda door. She stopped, wanting one more private word with her husband.
‘John, do you ever feel lucky, I mean, really lucky? Even now, when the world is at its worst?’
‘Lately, all the time,’ he told her. ‘No man could be more content.’
‘You said before that we are the only two people in the universe. I understand that now and I rejoice, my dear Captain.’
‘Anna—I have a favour to ask.’
‘Ask away.’
‘I know there is a portraitist in Port Mahon. When I return, would you have a portrait painted of yourself for me to take on theSwallow?’
Anna let herself be enveloped in her dear husband’s embrace. ‘I could stay like this with you forever,’ she whispered. ‘Yes. A portrait.’
‘Know this, my love,’ he said. ‘You found a broken man on your doorstep in Plymouth, took him in and made him whole. I had no idea what would happen when I knocked on your door.’
‘I didn’t either,’ she assured him, then couldn’t help a laugh, because she was still Anna and prone to humour. ‘I would like a portrait of you, too, you know, just to remind me how handsome you are, if, well, someone else knocks on my door and you’ve been at sea too long.’
They laughed together. ‘I can see we will need a secret knock,’ Captain Beattie teased in turn.
‘Do be serious,’ she joked.
‘All right. As for those only two people in the universe?’
‘Anna and John?’
‘So we are, my dearest love. So we are.’
Epilogue
October 9, 1806
Dear Grace,
My friend, since my last letter, such good news! I’m sick every morning. If John is in port, he winces, then grins like a Rock Ape. ‘It will pass, dear heart,’ he says. ‘Let me get you some ship’s biscuit. You’ll keep that down.’ Then, drat his hide, he adds, ‘Weevils and all.’
We have informed Pru and Allan. Imagine my delight when Pru told me, ‘Mama, I will be a big sister again!’ I cried. Who wouldn’t? John tells me I cry at everything now. He exaggerates.
Late May is the time of my confinement. I expect we will still be here on Menorca, as Admiral Collingwood intended, the Swallow patrolling, with occasional assistance here and there in the Mediterranean. John groused to Admiral Collingwood about showing the flag but just patrolling, until the admiral pointed out to him that is precisely what keeps the French bottled up in Toulon.
