She laughed, her wrinkles collapsing in mirth. “Everything Indigo Island isn’t.”
He took another drink and willed the memory of Esmée away as he’d done a decade or better. Leaving him to his ponderings, Mistress Saltonstall moved on as Cyprian and the ship’s drummer appeared, intent on his table.
“Hats off, lads,” he said with a slight smile. Their land manners had yet to catch up with them.
They grabbed their caps and sat opposite him, eager as schoolboys.
“Where to next, sir?” they asked in unison.
“I know not.” Port Royal was their hope. Or the lucrative Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti. “How goes the careening?”
Cyprian grimaced. “Full of ship’s worms as she is, we’ll have to winter over right here.” He looked at his tarred breeches. “The masts—or parts of ’em—had to be removed. We’ve not finished scraping ’er down.”
“When that’s done, I’ll set you to work on the light,” Henri said. “A stonemason has been hired and will be here shortly.”
Their expressions brightened. This was far preferable to scraping down a worm-ridden vessel, truly. They began to chatter as Henri’s gaze stretched beyond them to the ordinary’s entrance. His four most trusted men ducked beneath the door’s lintel—the Africans Tarbonde and Udo, his sailing master and quartermaster, followed by the Englishmen, sea chaplain Ned Autrey and ship surgeon Alistair Southack.
Hermes screeched at their entrance and fled behind the bar. Henri’s two youngest crew followed suit and scurried out a side door, their seats left vacant for their superiors.
“Welcome back, sir,” Tarbonde said with a grin, the country marks or tribal scars across his cheeks a perpetual reminder of just how far he was from his Ghanaian home.
More ale was served, but Henri waited till they’d quenched their thirst before satisfying their curiosity about his time on the mainland.
“You were missed,” Southack said after a long sip. “Some of the crew respect no man’s authority but yours.”
“Other than a small tussle or two, all has been the doldrums.” Udo took a long drink. “I trust your time in York was eventful since you tarried awhile.”
Henri nodded, sharing the high points. “I got my bearings. Attended a ball. Was thrown from a horse.”
They chuckled. Horsemanship was not one of his strengths. He’d been too long at sea.
“There’s a great deal of war talk,” he told them. “I spoke at length with Virginia officials.”
“Ah, at last we get to the meat of the matter.” Southack leaned in, eyes alive with anticipation.
Henri nodded. But how to condense hours of conversation? “The British are commissioning seamen to prey upon and plunder French ships, thereby cutting supply lines to enemy allies on the frontier.”
Udo toyed with his pewter tankard. “Commit acts of freebooting?”
“Aye, all in the name of establishing English dominance on the high seas as well as North America and the Caribbean.”
“’Tis a war, aye, or soon will be,” Tarbonde said. “A contest over who wins America and other foreign interests.”
“And the plunder?” Southack’s gaze never left Henri. “If we risk our lives as privateers under an official letter of marque? Are all prizes taken given over to the British government?”
“A great many questions remain unanswered. And I’ve made no promises as to our involvement.” Henri ran a hand over his unshaven face. “Closer to home, Virginia’s government is desperate for reinforcements to protect Chesapeake Bay from pirates. This from the lord commissioner for trade and plantations and the secretary of state.”
Udo frowned. “When will you learn more, sir?”
Henri looked out the window toward York. “In a sennight I’m to attend a meeting in Williamsburg. A gathering of officials and certain mariners of note, including Admiral Barnabas Shaw.”
“Famed commander of the Royal Navy?” Tarbonde queried.
Southack’s brow lifted. “Famed commander and former privateer turned pirate.”
“Careful.” Henri leveled his gaze at the surgeon. “The same has been said of us.”
Ned regarded Henri warily. “In that same vein, be watchful of your enemies in the capital and elsewhere who would rejoice to see you brought low.” His gaze slid to the Africans. “And slave catchers ashore who would like nothing better than to ensnare bona fide freemen.”
The warning led to a sullen silence. Henri had nearly forgotten the high feeling against him among Virginia’s planters and politicians. So much falsehood was printed about him by those who opposed him, it turned previously unbiased citizens against him as well. But he was most concerned about the Africans. Many of them were inked with the Jerusalem cross as he was, identifying themselves as his crew in a show of unity and pride.
“Let us talk of more pleasant matters. Like the ball. What I’d give to see a comely petticoat or two.” Southack let out a long breath. “I’d gladly suffer a minuet.”
Ned nodded. “As would I.”
Henri understood. He knew they longed to escape their wooden world and form feminine ties. “’Tis your turn to go ashore. We’ve no imminent sailing to pursue to keep you from staying as long as you like. Not yet. But once on the mainland, be on your guard.”
“Are you sure it’s only a meeting you’re going to in the capital?” Southack’s wink was sly. “I seem to recall Admiral Shaw having several beautiful daughters.”
“Only two,” Henri corrected. “One is wed.”
“Which leaves the second.” Southack drummed impatient fingers atop the scarred table.
When Henri said nothing, his sea chaplain filled the silence. “Miss Esmée Shaw? A chocolatier who has a shop along the waterfront, or once did. Last we were in port, Shaw’s supplied us with chocolate before we sailed.”
“Shaw’s will need to resupply us ahead of our next voyage,” Udo said. “Six pounds of chocolate per man, much like the officers marching with Braddock’s army.”
“God rest Braddock’s sorry soul,” Ned breathed.
They observed a moment of silence for the fallen general. But in truth, the frontier was so far, the war threat felt even further removed.
Southack brightened. “So what is your recommendation for lodgings in York?”
“The Royal Oake should suffice,” Henri said. “The bell system is rather extraordinary. And the owner has a very accommodating daughter who may not be able to withstand your charms.”
Udo winked. “Though she withstood yours, no doubt, immune to matrimony as you are.”
They all laughed soundly, and Tarbonde called for more ale.
Henri regarded them fondly. “If I wed, then I’d have to relax my cardinal rule of prohibiting married men as crew.”
“With all due respect, your crew might be better for marrying,” Ned replied.
“I’ll not separate husbands and wives and families.” The rule was ironclad. And it was Esmée who had been behind it.
Talk turned to other matters. But Esmée’s memory, repeatedly tossed overboard, stubbornly resurfaced. And now he was no longer here by the open window with a salt breeze caressing his unshaven face. He was at the ball’s supper again, seated beside her, a decade of ill feeling between them.