Hugh Kenrick (55 page)

The
Zeus
tacked starboard again and in a minute blocked the view of the spectators on the
Sparrowhawk
as the warship rode through the debris of the
Charon
. Through gaps in the smoke they could see the frigate’s crew working the guns on the main deck as the warship delivered more broadsides, while others worked her sails. Crewmen and red-jacketed marines were busy pouring musket fire into the unfortunate privateer.

Ramshaw said, “It seems that our Mr. Farbrace is intent on punishing those Frenchmen for Captain Musto’s folly. That is not abiding by the rules.”

“Perhaps not,” remarked Haynie. “But, look! There is a better explanation!” he pointed to the southwest. The group trained their glasses in that direction. On the horizon, they saw sails, two sets of them. One set seemed to indicate a frigate, the other, another brig.

“Prudence, then, governs Mr. Farbrace,” sighed Ramshaw. “Forgive me for impugning your character, sir.”

Once more the
Zeus
tacked, but more slowly. They saw now that
Le Voleur
had capsized and was lying on her larboard side, showing half of her hull. Men flailed desperately in the water around her, and others clung to floating debris. Still others were trying to get a foothold on the slippery, barnacle-pitted hull.

“She is finished, Mr. Farbrace,” said Ramshaw to himself, “and she’s
not put a scratch on your lovely ship. Pick up some of those rascals and perhaps they will tell you who else is lurking in these parts.”

But again, the
Zeus
loosed another full broadside. Some balls glanced off the hull, but others found weak spots and dented or shattered the wood. The men on the
Sparrowhawk
imagined they could hear the Frenchmen on the hull curse the
Zeus
. They could see them shaking their fists at her before they dived back into the water. One Frenchman was caught in midair as he dived and cut in half by a shot from the
Zeus
.

Water shot up through the new holes in the hull, and
Le Voleur
slipped quietly beneath the waves.

“The thief will sleep with the suicide,” remarked Iverson.

“That is more cruelty than I saw at Charing Cross,” said Hugh. “That ship was no match for the
Zeus
. What was the purpose in destroying her?”

Ramshaw did not immediately answer. He watched the
Zeus
tack around the debris and survivors—making no attempt to pick up the few men who still splashed in the water—and saw the spongers swab the barrels of the warship’s guns. One by one, the gun ports dropped shut.

“The purpose, Mr. Kenrick?” said the captain, lowering his glass and tucking it under his arm. “To make an example of her, for the benefit of those chaps there.” He nodded in the direction of the new sails. “They won’t worry us now. Won’t even bother to follow us.”

Hugh gestured vaguely in the direction of the carnage. “What about all those passengers from the
Charon
? I can see…their bodies in the water. We can’t just…leave them…”

Haynie said, “There’s nothing to be done for them, sir. We don’t know who they were, and we would simply need to toss them back in.”

Ramshaw gave his crew the order to stand down, but stopped before he descended to the main deck. “I am very sorry that you lost your friends, Mr. Kenrick.” He patted one of Hugh’s shoulders. “Have supper with me this evening. Sea-pie on Sheffield plate. Washed down with a quart or more of Madeira. That will help you sleep…and accept it…and forget it.”

“I won’t forget,” said Hugh. He glanced once more out at the debris. The
Zeus
was cutting through it to rejoin the formation. “I am the last of the Pippins,” he added, more to himself than to Ramshaw.

A stiff breeze whipped through his shirt and filled the sails of the
Sparrowhawk
. The bodies, the debris, and the survivors from
Le Voleur
vanished behind the waves.

*  *  *

Hugh Kenrick withdrew into himself and remained withdrawn for the rest of the voyage. He said little, ate little, but wrote extensively in his journal, describing, among many other things, the terrible fates of the
Charon
and
Le Voleur
. His sleep was interrupted now and then by unbidden, recurring nightmares, in which he or one of his perished friends was chained to a wall in the hold of a sinking ship, or strapped to a cask of gunpowder while vague, laughing faces tossed lit matches at him. He did not scream, but thought he had when he woke up in a sweat. Ramshaw tried to draw him out of the mood, but was unsuccessful.

There were no further incidents. The sails on the horizon disappeared, and the convoy headed west without further molestation by man or weather. The convoy commander invited Ramshaw and Hugh to supper on the
Zeus
. The post-captain had observed Ramshaw’s battle drills with appreciation, and word had also reached him that the
Sparrowhawk
carried nobility. Hugh declined the invitation, and asked Ramshaw to convey his thanks and apologies. He did not wish to meet the man who had punished the Frenchmen of
Le Voleur
, even though he was convinced by Ramshaw that it had been the right thing to do.

Hugh came back to life only when Iverson came by his berth to inform him that the mainland had been sighted. Hugh smiled for the first time in weeks. He found his long-glass and went up to the quarterdeck and, for the rest of the morning, surveyed the shores of the alien continent. Only three other merchantmen remained from the convoy. The others, including the warships and the transports, had already gone their separate ways.

A day later, the
Sparrowhawk
rounded Cape May, entered Delaware Bay, and sailed placidly up its river. Hugh paced excitedly up and down the deck, unable to believe the immensity of the place, and believing it at the same time. From the deck he could see tobacco fields, and fields of corn and wheat, and great houses, and sleepy river towns, and rivers that meandered west to vanish into unending carpets of forests. A mountain range far in that direction ran from one invisible point north to another south. The earth seemed larger here. He felt equal to the challenge of all its possibilities.

John Ramshaw watched his special passenger, and was glad.

Another day passed, and the
Sparrowhawk
welcomed aboard the pilot who would take the merchantman into port. Through his long-glass, Hugh
Kenrick could see the steeples of the city of Philadelphia.

The voyage begun by him long ago in the halls of Danvers was nearly over. There lay his future, and England was far away.