Summary:
One rash decision will lead him down the path toward revolution...
Nathaniel Hill, eldest son in a well-connected and respected English family, is offered two choices by his father after being caught in a compromising situation: public shame to force his good behavior, or to sever his family ties and leave on the first ship for the colonies in America. Rather than endure the life his father expects him to lead, he makes the choice to begin anew where he knows no one.
Landing in Boston, Massachusetts in 1772, he uses what money he has to purchase a tavern for a bargain price from a desperate seller, and sets about scraping together a life in a city he quickly realizes is on the verge of complete catastrophe. Though he attempts to remain neutral in the politics ripping at the city's foundations in the years that follow, he is destined to fail.
A musket, a British officer, a rebel spy network, and a dashing Frenchman are fated to disrupt his carefully-held neutrality.
Revolution is a queer historical fiction series set during the American Revolution in which all protagonists find happiness at the end of their harrowing journeys, regardless of whether their stories include romance or of which side of the war they are on. All books include content warnings for war and violence, and the characters are impacted by 18th century social norms, including those regarding gender, race, and sexuality, in various ways.
Summary:
"You can't believe a letter of marque from a rebellious colony will be considered legal. You will be no better than a pirate."
Miles Dunn has sailed the seas his entire life it seems. The moment he was old enough he learned the operations on his father's fishing ship, and as a youth he joined his father on a privateer that harassed French trade. Now he commands his own whaling vessel out of Nantucket and lives a comfortable life in Dunnstown, a town he and his family have built through the spoils of generations of smuggling and piracy. Miles is an honest man, though, and has no desire to engage in the smuggling so many on the coast are increasingly involved in as bitterness grows over taxes and British laws made so far away from the American lives they involve.
That changes for Miles with the outbreak of war between England and the colonies. Miles is faced with a choice to relocate to England with his employer, or to become unemployed in the midst of a war that might soon end, or that might drag on for years. The timely meeting with a merchant whose family's wealth has been tied to the smugglers and pirates of Miles's own family presents Miles with a third option. It is an option that, once accepted, changes everything for Miles. It renders him a traitor to his king and the British navy's most wanted criminal. It sends him on his way to New York to locate an old friend in the service of the Royal Navy, and to incite a mutiny on a British ship of war.
REVOLUTION is a queer historical fiction series set during the American Revolution in which all protagonists find happiness at the end of their harrowing journeys, regardless of whether or not their stories include romance or of which side of the war they are on. SERIES CONTENT WARNINGS: war and violence, 18th century social norms and prejudices (including those regarding gender, race, ethnicity, and sexuality)
BOOK SPECIFIC CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of whaling (no actual whaling scenes), mentions of sexual assault (no actual assault), one scene of torture (whipping - navy punishment)
"We are all committing treason by supporting the rebel cause."
Since war began outright in 1775, Bethiah Rogers has learned how military events may impact the everyday lives of those with no ties to the military at all. In addition to the rising tensions before the outbreak of the war, Bethiah has witnessed the recent occupation of Philadelphia by the British army. The war has also postponed her expected marriage to her longtime friend, Levi Finley, who has been establishing his role in his father's business interests in Boston with the expectation to move her there once settled. It is an arrangement that benefits both Bethiah and Levi, allowing Levi to remain with the man he loves and Bethiah to not endure the usual intimate expectations of a wife. As the war continues seemingly without end, Bethiah and Levi choose to cease postponing the wedding, allowing Bethiah to join Levi and his partner, Jasper, in Boston. There she takes up the operations of the shopfront where acquired goods are sold, and she becomes a partner in the ownership of a privateer known as the Scot.
Yet, as Bethiah is enjoying her new life and the family they have created for themselves, it becomes clear that the war may disrupt their happiness yet again. Soon they are beset by those seeking to be paid the bounty for capturing Levi, a bounty put on him for his association with the Scot, a vessel that had been a ship in the British Royal Navy before being taken to serve as a privateer. By the time they discover the identity of the master behind the plot against them, it may be too late for Bethiah's family - both the family in Boston and the father she left behind in Philadelphia - and it may also prove too late for the Continental Congress and Washington's army.
REVOLUTION is a queer historical fiction series set during the American Revolution in which all protagonists find happiness at the end of their harrowing journeys, regardless of whether or not their stories include romance or of which side of the war they are on. SERIES CONTENT WARNINGS: war and violence, 18th century social norms and prejudices (including those regarding gender, race, ethnicity, and sexuality)
BOOK SPECIFIC CONTENT WARNINGS: references to non-monogamy, mentions of slavery (one of the major characters was previously enslaved), attempted kidnapping, references to death of a mother from childbirth complications, anticipated death of a parent (who does not die), housefire, creepy dudes who won't take no for an answer and keep writing letters even when they are ignored
Let it Begin Here #1
January, 1775
Boston
Chapter One
The sun was setting, which meant the coffeehouse Nathaniel had acquired for a bargain price was about to be filled with townspeople as well as soldiers looking for something stronger than coffee. Unlike some, he wasn't concerned about offering alcohol to soldiers, and the soldiers hadn't noticed when he'd raised his prices in the last month. Business was business, even if the crowd might be a tad rowdy by the end of the night.
"What kind of night do you suppose it will be?" Marie asked in her heavy French accent, leaning against the bar beside him.
Nathaniel had been scoffed at many a time for having a woman serving in his coffeehouse, but he hadn't given those men a second thought. Marie was a lovely young woman as happy to turn away from the usual demands of society as he was. Some had asked him if she did more to serve the men who frequented his establishment than provide them food and drink, and he'd nearly laughed. He'd seen her slap a man off his chair for an inappropriate touch, and he was prepared to assist her in such responses if the need arose.
"An uneventful night, I hope," he replied, wiping the bar.
She laughed. "This is Boston. Move to the countryside and take up farming if uneventful is what you want."
He smiled at her. "Business is better here."
Their first nightly patron arrived then, a nondescript man who sat at the bar every evening and quietly sipped his drinks until they closed for the night. At times he left sooner, but usually he stayed as long as the soldiers. He'd been frequenting the house almost nightly since it had opened and Nathaniel still didn't know the man's name. Not that one was required for a drink unless paying on credit.
"Good evening," he said as he seated himself.
Marie fetched him his usual drink. "Good evening," she told him with a smile.
Nathaniel greeted the man, then moved across the tavern room to stoke the fire in the hearth. He paid no attention to the next man entering the building until Marie let out a shriek the likes of which he'd never heard before. He spun around and found her jumping into the arms of a lean, very handsome man while speaking excitedly in French. The man wore a dark cloak and a dark cocked hat now knocked askew by Marie. At his booted feet were two decently sized traveling bags.
"Oh, how undignified of me!" Marie finally declared, stepping away and brushing her skirt and apron as if to straighten them. But she quickly grabbed the man's hands and pulled him away from the doorway. "What are you doing here? You didn't say you were planning to visit! Nat, come meet my dear brother, Henri," she said, motioning Nathaniel closer. She was smiling more brightly than he had ever seen before.
Marie had spoken of Henri a time or two, but never in great detail. She often claimed it pained her to have left him behind when she'd chosen to leave her family and France. She had often told Nathaniel he was wonderfully handsome and an actor in Paris. His appearance was certainly not something she had exaggerated. Under his dark cloak he wore a suit and cravat of coordinated greens that seemed to make him look taller and leaner. He removed his hat from his blond head and smiled at Nathaniel. His eyes were a darker shade than Marie's pale blue ones.
Nathaniel pushed his thoughts away from Henri's appearance. "I'm glad to meet you," he said.
"I'm glad to meet you at last," he replied, smiling as brightly as his sister. His accent was almost musical on his voice, despite it being so similar to Marie's. "I hope you don't mind my intrusion. I found the desire to leave Paris rather quickly and couldn't write first to ask permission."
"What trouble did you find this time?" Marie demanded, hands on her hips.
"I found no trouble," he told her. "Other than being betrayed and cast aside for someone with less experience. I don't wish to speak about it yet, just know my career has come to its end, I believe."
She frowned and asked him something in French. Nathaniel wished he'd been more attentive when his tutor had tried to teach him French all those years ago. Then he'd have known what was happening in his house.
Henri sighed and waved a hand. "Not now." He turned back to Nathaniel. "It took me some time to locate this house, especially as I had to disembark outside the city harbor. I hadn't heard how difficult it would be to get into the city by ship."
"Oh yes, because of the tea," Marie said. "I didn't tell you about that because I didn't want you to worry. I knew you would never learn of it in Paris because you never concerned yourself with any gossip outside your extravagant company." She patted his arm when he gave her a rather confused look. "It was nothing to concern you with. I'll tell you all that's been happening here, later. Don't fret yourself."
Henri seemed to accept that and looked back to Nathaniel. "Would you allow me to stay here? Even if just for one night, I would appreciate it. I could share Marie's room if needed and find other lodgings tomorrow. It seems I have much to learn about Boston."
"Nat, don't you have several unused rooms upstairs?" Marie asked, though she knew it was the truth. "I'm sure Henri would work for his room until he finds what it was he came here for. If he even knows," she added, giving her brother a sharp look.
Nathaniel nodded. He'd certainly do that to keep the handsome man around, even just to look at. "Certainly."
Henri smiled. "Thank you."
While Henri stored his traveling bags upstairs, Nathaniel observed the usual crowd gathering in his tavern. From his first visit, when he was considering purchasing the establishment, he had considered the tavern cozy and inviting. It had room enough for several lantern-lit tables throughout the room, as well as shelves for books and a comfortable hearth. It had filled with soldiers by the time Henri returned from upstairs without his traveling cloak and in more comfortable shoes. The soldiers sat around tables drinking and playing cards. The group closest to the fire were certainly officers, though Nathaniel wasn't intimately familiar with the structure of the British army. They never appeared to drink as much as the other men.
Scattered amongst the British uniforms were everyday men who gave the soldiers unhappy looks and muttered about sharing the tavern with them. As was often the case, Nathaniel overheard one man say he would go elsewhere but the soldiers were in nearly every tavern in the area and that the ones they weren't in were overcrowded with those who also wanted to avoid them. He heard other whispers of half-hearted wishes to poison the soldiers or run them out in whatever manner was required.
Marie bustled about the room, refilling drinks and serving food. She paused frequently to talk briefly with the men at each table and, per Nathaniel's request to keep his business profitable, appeared to spend equal time with the soldiers as with the others. Occasionally she talked to him, though he stayed mostly at the bar, watching. He usually only left the bar to make certain the fire in the hearth continued to warm the room, or to make short visits to patrons who caught his attention.
Henri moved around the room, socializing with anyone who seemed willing to speak to him. He even played a hand of cards with some of the soldiers. Eventually, he wandered over to the bar and sat across from Nathaniel. "What compelled you to hire my sister?" he asked.
"She was my first applicant," Nathaniel replied. "I wanted someone quickly. She answered my ad the day I posted the sign at my door. I was worried at first she was going to expect more than employment, but she made it clear she had no interest in marriage or the attentions of suitors. That was ideal for me, so I hired her on. I was also a bit worried she wouldn't take to the work among all the men who visit. She took to it easily."
"Marie was always unwilling to follow the expectations of our parents," Henri said fondly. "That is why she and I were the closest of our siblings. We never could please our parents, either of us."
"She always spoke highly of you, though not often," Nathaniel told him. "When she did she said you were her closest friend and seemed very proud of your talent in the theater."
Henri chuckled. "She was the only supporter of mine in the family. I was pushed for marriage just as she was, but I was given the opportunity to set aside those demands for the sake of my performances. Now things have taken a turn for me and I could fall back to the family expectations, or continue making my own life. I'm sure you can see what I chose."
"I'll spare you the questions about what occurred only because I just met you," Nathaniel said. In truth, he also didn't want to be asked the personal questions he was sure would follow. "And because your business is your own."
Henri gave him a thoughtful look. "You left your family, as well."
Nathaniel nodded and glanced quickly away, at the tavern room at large. "I did. For similar yet different reasons, I'm sure. Perhaps one day, when I know you better, I'll tell you more of it."
"Then I will do the same for you," Henri declared. "I understand the burden, whatever it must be."
When Nathaniel turned his gaze back to Henri's he was certain he felt something pass between then, a sense of solidarity that told him they perhaps understood each other better than either of them knew.
Marie joined them then, leaning on the bar beside Henri. "Are you boys getting acquainted?"
"I needed to know more about the man who keeps my sister about," Henri answered, smiling at her. "So tell me, why Boston and why this Englishman's establishment?"
She patted his arm. "It was the first port the ship came to and it was the first place that didn't turn me away when I sought work."
"Did Pierre simply leave you here then?" Henri demanded. "I expected he would have taken you to New France. Or whatever it is they call the place now that the King of England possesses it."
Nathaniel was amused to think Henri would worry about the actions of the very concerned French sailor who had been at first unwilling to leave Marie in Nathaniel's care. He had been introduced to Nathaniel as Marie's cousin, and the reason she was able to leave France.
"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "Pierre went through the city with me and would have taken me back aboard if I'd found nothing by the time the ship was required to move on. He did as you paid him to do."
"Have you seen him since?" Henri asked. "I haven't heard from him, except to inform me where he'd left you."
"Only twice in the last three years," she answered. "I hope he's well. The sea isn't kind."
"It certainly isn't. Especially in the winter," Henri agreed, visibly cringing. Nathaniel assumed the journey from France hadn't gone pleasantly.
"Yet so many of us are safely here," Nathaniel commented. "The sea must be mastered well enough now."
Someone called for another cider and Marie sighed. "Perhaps the sea should have taken some of these soldiers," she muttered before returning to her duties.
Nathaniel had noticed the soldiers being far too interested in Marie recently. He supposed she was young and pretty enough to be a distraction from their troubles, much like the alcohol was.
The soldiers seemed to take a liking to Henri, as well. He started playing cards with them once more not long after Marie had left the bar. It seemed he was winning more than losing, but supplying the men with drinks for each hand he won. The officers didn't seem pleased with the gambling, but appeared willing to allow it to continue for a time.
It was as he observed Henri rising, laughing, from a table to retrieve more drinks that Nathaniel also saw a drunken soldier at another table drag Marie onto his lap. She tried to pull away, but the soldier beside him held her arms. Yet another soldier made a grab for her skirts. They were calling her a French whore and laughing at her struggles.
Nathaniel responded without a thought for his actions. He reached below the bar, grasped the musket there, and moved swiftly across the room. He stopped not far from the table of soldiers, musket raised toward them.
"Unhand her," he demanded.
The tavern went silent. Then there was a sea of movement. The soldiers tossed Marie away and Henri caught her up, guiding her out of the crowd as men stood and jeered at the soldiers. Soldiers stood and those few who were armed despite being off-duty reached for weapons.
"Stand down!" one of the officers roared. "For the love of God all of you stand down!"
To Nathaniel's surprise, the soldiers stopped and put their weapons away. One of the officers approached Nathaniel and he only then realized he was likely to be arrested. One glance at Marie, staring wide-eyed at him from her brother's arms, convinced him that taking action for her defense was worth any punishment he would endure. He finally lowered the musket but kept his eyes on the angry soldiers, some of whom looked prepared to shoot him despite their orders, and gave no attention to the officer.
"I suggest you put that musket away and not cause such madness again," the officer said. "I don't wish to arrest the owner of such a fine establishment."
There was muttering and jeering on both sides then, but Nathaniel raised his voice over them. "And I don't wish to put more blood on your men's hands. Anyone in this town is welcome here, day or night, so long as no men cause trouble as yours just have. My serving girl is not a whore. If your men want that, there's a house down the street that will gladly meet their needs."
"Very well," the officer replied. "But you won't bring out that musket again or there will be trouble if no officer is here to stop it."
"If your men cause trouble, then there will be trouble," Nathaniel declared. "I do not take orders from you. I am not one of your men."
"You have the sound of an Englishman," the officer countered. "Boston is also controlled by His Majesty. Therefore, you should be mindful of what I tell you."
Nathaniel gave him another glance, then turned and walked away. "Everyone can carry on. The next man who handles my serving girl in such away will be barred from my establishment, be they British soldier or man of Boston."
There were more mutters and some jeers, but the crowd settled down after a few moments.
Nathaniel retreated to the kitchen for a moment, gun still in hand. His hands trembled as he filled a cup with the strongest rum he owned and drank it swiftly, barely feeling the burn of the alcohol.
He heard footsteps and spun to face the door, expecting officers there to arrest him. He saw only Marie, then Henri behind her.
"Thank you," she told him, stepping up to kiss his cheek. "I believe that is the bravest thing I've yet seen a man do."
Nathaniel nodded to her and she left without another word.
Henri stepped into the doorway in her place. "I appreciate your affection for my sister," he said, and Nathaniel assumed the hidden question in his words.
"She is also something of a sister to me, as well," he assured him. "If she is harassed in my establishment, it is my fault, as well."
Henri nodded. Nathaniel wondered if he imagined a sense of relief in his expression. "And that was rather courageous."
Nathaniel forced a hint of a smile. "Not so much," he admitted. "It isn't loaded."
Henri laughed, and it was a laugh Nathaniel thought had no business being so wonderful, given the risk they had faced moments before. "All the braver, then," Henri finally declared, grinning. "Thank you."
Nathaniel wasn't certain he deserved thanks, considering what could have occurred. He had not been in Boston yet when the soldiers had fired their weapons at a crowd on King Street, taking five lives in what the people of Boston had since named to be a massacre. He had heard much about it, including speeches made to honor the victims, however. It was possible that a similar event might have taken place in his own establishment for his own rash response. He was deeply thankful that one had not.
He went for more rum.
Where Cannons Roar #2
March, 1776
The Atlantic
Chapter One
They were three days from home when the British Royal Navy ship signaled them. Captain Miles Dunn knew his crew wanted nothing more than to return home after their months at sea filling the hold with whale oil, spermaceti, and blubber still to be processed. They would dislike the delay in seeing their families and getting their pay, but he gave the order to slow the ship. He had few other options, and none of them meant getting his crew and cargo safely back to Nantucket harbor in a proper and timely manner.
His Majesty's ship was larger than the whaler, a great frigate with nearly thirty guns, Miles noted. Miles's crew assembled on the deck before he called them to. All of thirty-four of them watched the larger ship as it came alongside the whaler.
"Who is your captain?" an officer called to them.
Miles stepped forward. "I am, sir."
"And your name?"
"Miles Dunn."
There was a moment of hesitation, then another question. "Who owns the ship?"
"Isaac Cobb, of Sherburne, Nantucket Island."
"You have papers?"
"I do."
"Very well. Assemble your crew and we will need to see those papers."
Miles turned to the crew. "You heard him."
The crew was quieter than they ever were as they arranged themselves in an orderly group on the deck. The first mate, Clark, wore a concerned expression, but said nothing as he made certain the two who were most in danger during such a situation were playing their roles thoroughly.
Minutes later, the larger ship had put a small boat into the water and it was rowed behind both ships. Miles sent two of his crew to lower the ladder and assist with tying off the boat to the rail. When the visitors joined them, Miles took a long look at the man who had addressed him. There was no mistaking Asher Sands, even in an older form and wearing a navy lieutenant's coat. There was even a hint of a smile on his sea-burned face when he looked to Miles.
"Your papers, Captain Dunn?" he asked.
Miles nodded. "This way," he said, and led him to the cabin. He took his ship's papers from the wooden chest on his desk and set them out before the officer. "Lieutenant Sands, is it?"
The officer looked up and smiled. Then he carefully closed the door of the cabin. "I wondered if you would recognize me."
Miles chuckled. "Older, certainly, much as I am. I see your father's money has benefited you."
Asher continued to smile fondly. "When all I talked about after returning home was the adventure I'd had on Captain Dunn's crew, he'd assumed the best he could do for me was to send me into the navy at his considerable expense. Or so he reminds me."
"And does it suit you?" Miles wondered aloud.
Asher glanced at the door behind him, then shook his head, all traces of his smile gone. "Not one bit. Far too many rules and expectations. This captain is both cruel and cowardly. I was forced to flog a man for falling sleep on deck because he wanted to watch the stars three nights ago. The blessed stars. He wasn't even on watch duty." He stopped what was possibly to become a rant and shook his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. It has been years since we sailed together."
Miles shrugged. "I see nothing wrong with watching the stars."
Asher chuckled and shook his head. "What I wouldn't give to be back on your father's privateer, the joyful Golden Laurel. Your father was a good man and a great captain. Only two rules."
"'Treat each other with dignity and respect, and respect my command'," Miles recited. It certainly wasn't time to tell a member of the British Royal Navy just where else his father had employed those same rules, outside of his fishing and privateering ventures. "I've used those simple rules since I acquired my own crew, though I've found the need to become more strict in the details."
That seemed to recall Asher to the papers before him. He read them quickly. "The Abigail Cobb. Owned by Mr. Isaac Cobb. Very good."
"Why the press gang?" Miles questioned. "Why the concern over the ship's owner? Is there someone taking whaling ships again?"
Asher sighed. "It's war," he said quietly. There was sadness in his clear blue eyes. "The American colonies have been in rebellion for a year now."
Miles sighed, unsure how to feel. He had been dismissing the thought of war since he'd heard of the fighting. It gave him too many ideas.
The previous April, the British forces within the city of Boston had marched on the town of Concord. Miles had heard they had intended to arrest certain men who were outspoken against British laws, and to confiscate certain arms that had been collected there. The Lexington militia had given resistance to the soldiers as they made their way, starting a night of fighting that had left several on both sides dead and the British once again confining themselves to Boston. Miles knew nothing of what had happened in the eleven months since, but had wondered if the affair would be forgiven very easily by either side.
"We had heard rumors before leaving last June, that things were not going to be resolved after the battles outside Boston as we had all expected," he said to Asher. "We've been at sea since then, whaling in warmer waters. You are impressing sailors, then?"
"Not whalers," Asher explained. "The English whale oil industry is as important as ever. Isaac Cobb swore his entire fleet to the English whaling industry, we were told. Others have done the same. You will be free to continue to Nantucket with your full crew. Others who have not done as Mr. Cobb has are to be pressed into the navy or the British whaling fleet."
"Mr. Cobb never discussed this with myself or my crew," Miles declared, concerned. "What is he expecting of us?"
Asher shook his head. "I'm sure he will inform you. If you didn't know this, he's likely waiting for your return."
This was certainly news that wouldn't sit well with the crew, just as it wasn't sitting well with him. He glanced at the locked cabinet where he kept his father's journals, and his grandfather's. A war meant he may not need to join the British whaling fleet at all. It was the very idea he'd been trying to keep from his mind for months. He turned back to Asher.
"Your part in this war is to patrol for American ships to impress their crews?" he asked.
"The Spar is bound for New York," Asher replied. "For what purpose, I still don't know. Our orders will depend on what we find there."
Miles nodded thoughtfully. "I wish you well then."
Asher seemed surprised, but nodded to him. "You as well." He took a deep breath, then grimaced. "Your ship smells terrible."
Miles chuckled. "I've gotten so accustomed to it I hardly notice anymore. You should be aboard when we have the tryworks lit. It's preferable to have them extinguished when we reach port or the people of Nantucket get rather unhappy with us."
"I can understand why." He handed Miles his papers. "We'll get off your ship so you may deliver your catch."
Miles returned the papers to their box, then led him out of the cabin. One of Asher's men was eying Liza suspiciously. She was half hidden behind Thayer, the surgeon, who was telling the man, "That one has been ill for days. You don't want 'im. Haven't any idea what it is that's got 'im."
A call came then from the Spar, "Is all well, Lieutenant?"
"All is well, Captain," Asher called back. "The ship is owned by Isaac Cobb."
"Very well. Return with your men."
The others moved back toward their little boat. Asher, meanwhile, took a closer look at Liza, then shook his head. He turned back to Miles with half a smile, but said nothing when he nodded to him and followed his men. One of Miles's crew, Caleb, tossed the rope back down to the party in the boat, then hauled up the ladder.
"Well, everyone, back to work," Miles declared as the Spar pulled away from them a few short minutes later. "Unless you want to spend another week away from home."
As the crew rushed to set the sails again and Mallory returned to the helm, Clark approached. The first mate had the given name of Jonah, a name Miles refused to even consider him by out of fear that the next great sperm whale they hunted would devour him and he'd lose his first mate.
"You were in the cabin quite a while with him," Clark said quietly. "Something we should know? Crew's uneasy. Most of them knew they were facing impressment."
Miles met his concerned gaze. "Later. They'll be even more uneasy if we hide away in the cabin the moment the navy has left us."
Clark nodded. "Understood." He gave one last glance at Miles, then went off to continue his duties.
Miles walked the ship, ensuring everything was in order and considering how each crew member he passed would respond to the news he'd just been given. It was a useful thing to consider. There were very few he thought would be very happy with the idea of taking their catches to any port in Britain. It would mean more time away from their families.
He took one last thoughtful look at the horizon and the Spar as it continued on its course away from them.
Clark joined him in his cabin that evening. He didn't ask a single question. Instead, he sat silently on the other side of the table, waiting and watching Miles. He knew Miles would be honest with him and that any questions he had would be answered before the conversation was over. Miles had always made certain he was an honest and good captain to his crew. It was something he'd learned from his father.
"It so happens that lieutenant who visited us was an old friend of mine," Miles explained. "We sailed together on my father's privateer."
"Is that what saved us from impressment?" Clark asked, leaning back in his chair.
"No, Mr. Cobb did. It appears the skirmishes that were happening when we left for our hunt have turned into a full-out war. Mr. Cobb seems to have taken the side of the British in the conflict and has sworn all of this ships and crews to serve in the British whaling fleet. Had that not been the case, we would have either been taken into the navy or forced to become British whalemen."
Clark rubbed a hand over his face, then scratched at the bristle of an incoming beard he would undoubtedly shave that evening. "What does that mean for us? Half the crew has their families in Sherburne or Dunnstown. How will they see them again?"
Miles shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know anything other than what was told to me by Lieutenant Sands. He couldn't possibly know Mr. Cobb's plans for us or our families. I can do nothing but speculate. Which is why it would be best if the crew wasn't told any of this until I've spoken to Mr. Cobb. I don't want them to experience undue worry or anger."
Clark nodded. "Understandable. Nothing would be gained by telling them yet. We will wait for your direction, as always."
"I appreciate the understanding," Miles replied. "I trust you'll ensure the other mates understand as well."
"As always, Captain."
Treasonous Practices #3
July, 1778
Philadelphia
Chapter One
The windows in the sitting room were propped open to allow in the breeze, though it did little to dissipate the summer heat, even at the morning hour of ten o'clock. Bethiah did not mind the heat too much on most days, and she minded it even less as she read the paper's latest account of the aftermath of the great battle that had so recently taken place in New Jersey, near a place called Monmouth. She had been quite pleased to read of how General Washington's army had caught General Clinton's on its march from Philadelphia, and fought so bravely that the British had slunk away in the night to avoid battling again the following day. The papers called it a heroic victory, and she thought it was as well.
She had not truly despised the British army or wholly supported the American cause until that winter, when she and her father had been forced to flee to the home of a lately widowed aunt to avoid the occupation of the Philadelphia by the British army. Though her aunt's home had been pleasant enough, they had remained close enough to the city to have still felt the effects of the occupation. When they had at last felt it safe to return to the city after it had been abandoned by the British, they had found their home all but destroyed by whatever military men had taken it for their own for the winter. Many of the homes of those who had left the city had been found in a similar state, and the city had been in a general mess. As most businesses remained closed still, little had improved.
She had heard many tales of hardship and suffering recounted by those who had remained within the city during the occupation, and was all the happier to know the army that had caused so much difficulty had been bested in battle. Perhaps they had not been soundly defeated, but they had not been victorious. Citizens of Philadelphia had starved to feed the army, had been forced to open their homes to the soldiers and had been abused for them. The people of Philadelphia had been subject to the whims of the occupying British army. Even the Tories had endured shortages and difficulties, though it was partially hidden by distracting dances and plays, she had heard. Hearing of it all, and enduring what they had not far from the city, had caused Bethiah and her father both to begin embracing more rebellious sympathies. Writing to her fiancé in Boston, her dear friend Levi Finley, had only increased these sympathies, though she had never received a letter in response once the siege began. She hoped all was well for him in Boston.
Despite all this, she did not wish ill on the British soldiers themselves. She wished that their commanders and the king would see the barbarity of war and bring peace soon.
"And there is Miss Rogers, always reading the papers."
Bethiah was startled by the voice and stood, forcing herself to smile at Lucas Osborn, a friend of her father's and a lawyer as he was. He was nearly fifty years in age, dressed well despite the shortages in everything within the city, and wore a wig to hide the growing bald patch in his hair. He was also of a heavier weight than much of the rest of Philadelphia was after the winter of little food. Hosting a high-ranking officer had benefited him, it appeared. Next to him, her father was small and less gentlemanly in appearance. His suit was more worn, he was thinner, and he'd had his wig stolen by the officer who'd been staying at their house.
"Good morning Mr. Osborn," she said politely. "I didn't hear you come in."
He smiled. "We just arrived to discuss a case your father is assisting me with, as I value his opinion greatly." He stepped close and looked at the paper she had been reading. "Ah, I would not fret your pretty mind with such news of this war. It will all be over before too much longer. The French are of no concern and Washington's army of farmers will soon grow tired. All will be well enough here soon."
Bethiah supposed she should have known what his opinion of the war would be. "I thought you to be a man of reason," she commented coldly.
He chuckled. "I am. Now, perhaps you should put away the papers and look for a husband instead, one who is quite a bit more fit than that Finley boy. You wouldn't feel so compelled to fill your head with nonsense if you had a child or two to properly raise. I have found my life quite empty since my dear wife died. Perhaps your father would think it wise for us to wed so that I may help you to end whatever delusions you might have about the future here."
Before Bethiah could slap him as she wished to, her father spoke.
"Bethiah is free to choose the husband she most desires, and I have already given my blessing to the future vows between her and Mr. Finley. I don't believe you are someone she considers an eligible suitor, were she to break the engagement. She has known you nearly all her life. You are nearly an uncle to her."
Bethiah grated out the words, "He is quite correct. Marrying an uncle would be rather strange for me."
"But I am not your uncle," Mr. Osborn replied. Then he sighed. "Very well, I will abandon the argument for the moment. I hope that no one else sweeps in before I can convince you that your current arrangement is a foolish one."
Bethiah was certain no one would convince her of such a thing, as she and Levi Finley had been engaged, in word at least, since they were children, and she doubted either of them would seek to change their satisfactory arrangement. She nodded to Mr. Osborn and her father, then gathered the papers and took them to her room to continue reading in peace.
∞∞∞
Some time later there was a knock on her door and her father entered. He smiled when he saw her writing in her journal about the things she had read that morning, and the experience of learning for certain that Mr. Osborn was a Tory.
"Has he gone?" she asked, setting her writing aside.
"He has," her father replied. "I told him I did not appreciate him being so forward with you, as well. Attempting to break your engagement with Levi is ungentlemanly."
"I have never thought I would marry anyone but Levi," she admitted. "We have been friends since we were young."
"And neither of you desire children," he added, sitting down in the second chair at the room's small table. "You have made that clear from an early age. Unless your opinion has changed now that you are formally engaged?"
He sounded as if he were perhaps attempting to ask another question, but she could not explain more about the arrangement without betraying Levi's trust. She would never betray him.
Bethiah twirled her quill absently between her fingers. "I do still disagree with the idea of children. Marriage I could endure if my husband was kind, and Levi always has been. Mr. Osborn has never been truly kind to me. He has always wanted something from me, and I have never liked that. The way he looks at me is like a cat looking at a mouse it is about to toy with and then kill."
Her father sighed. "I would have broken off all my ties with him long ago if he were not such an excellent help in many of the cases I take. I would have reported his Tory leanings as well, but for my desire to see everyone given the freedom to follow whatever belief they have, be it religious or political. Though having him arrested would have kept him from bothering you and, to be frank, given me some small satisfaction."
Bethiah had always respected her father's steadfast holding to his personal beliefs in this regard, despite how vigorously the Pennsylvania leaders had attempted to end all Tory sympathies and enforce the rebel cause since the war had begun. In many ways, she agreed with his views, but in the specific detail of Mr. Osborn, she wished he would have been ensnared by the political workings long ago.
"Providing well for you has been my only concern since the day you came into my life and your mother left it," her father continued. "That is why I have refused all demands to join the militia and why I took you from the city when the British arrived, regardless of the costs."
She reached across the small table and tightly gripped his hand. All this talk of marriage had her wondering and wishing to change the focus of the conversation from herself and Levi. "Why is it that you never married again then?" she asked. "You've never truly told me."
He smiled and squeezed her hand gently. "Your mother was everything to me. To even consider sharing my life with another in her place was too unbearable a thought to me. Many women made the attempt to interest me, but I knew none of them could truly be a mother to you. I know many do not agree with me, but I believed it was a shame to her memory to expect another woman to raise you as a daughter. It is my duty alone to care for you, though your grandmother helped considerably when you were very young, and of course your aunt Maggie. I needed to continue working to have the money to give you all that you needed and they helped me more than I can ever repay."
Bethiah smiled. "Mother must have been quite wonderful for a man to remember her in such a way."
He nodded. "She truly was. I have never stopped loving her or missing her to this day."
"Is that why you have never encouraged me to marry the first respectable suitor to knock on the door and put aside the son of a smuggler?"
"Partly," he explained, smiling softly. "I wished for you to choose someone who would always be good to you, not simply one with means to give you what he supposes any wife would want. I also did not want to lose you quite yet, but I am prepared for when that day comes. You can't stay here forever if there is someone who you wish to marry."
He was quiet for a moment, then went on, "I also worry about you having children. You always said as a girl that you want none, but they tell me many women who say that while they are young and unmarried decide they truly do want children when they are older or married. And, of course, having a husband makes it more challenging to avoid having children. I don't wish to endure your loss as I endured your mother's. To see her fighting against death before my eyes while the doctor could do nothing for her is not a torture I wish any man to endure when the one before him is the woman he cherishes above all else in this world."
She squeezed his hand again when she noticed, as he looked away from her, the tears he tried to hide. He didn't often speak of her mother or how she had died, only that it had been related to Bethiah's birth. Her father had never done anything to make her feel that her mother's death had been her fault, only loved her without question, but now she felt a strange sense of guilt that she had never experienced before.
"I assure you, I will not be having children," she told him. "I would much prefer to establish a business or assist a husband with one, as I will be doing with Levi." And Jasper, she added to herself. "I've been learning much with Ms. Goodwell at the millinery. It makes for a good use of time until we're permitted to open again, which I hope is soon. She has made a good life for herself without a husband all these years."
He smiled faintly at her, his eyes dry once more. "I pray Levi is forever a good man then, one who understands and accepts what you do and do not want."
She returned the smile in kind. "I will hope for the same."
R.W. Winton has been interested in history from a young age, especially the parts of history most often excluded from the popular narratives. R.W. lives in western New York state and can sometimes be found wandering Saratoga Battlefield or visiting Baron von Steuben's gravesite.
Treasonous Practices #3
KOBO / iTUNES / SMASHWORDS
Series
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