March 1802
"Blast."
She bit her lip as soon as the word left her mouth, but it wasn't quick enough for her father not to hear.
"Katherine. Such language. Your mother would turn in her grave."
"With respect, Father," she answered, turning from the window. "With all respect, Mother was never held prisoner in the West Indies."
When her father sighed, she turned back to the window. Although quite clouded, the glass showed what was visible of the small village and clearing. Several French soldiers stood at arms in near the door. Beyond that, Katherine could see what remained of the meager and tired group of passengers that had traveled on her father's cargo ship. They milled near the door of another small cabin. She frowned and swiped at her brown hair as it fell into her eyes. "They'll be taking me out soon to rejoin the other passengers."
She turned and retreated to her father's side. The crimson stain on his leg was spreading. She knew that leeching would be his best option, but they had no such luxury.
"It doesn't pain me, Katie, daughter, if that's what you are wondering," Captain Miller replied the unanswered question. "You needn't stand vigil. My officers and I can take care of our injuries fine."
Katherine sighed heavily and shook her head. "I've never seen this much blood, Father. I could help with injuries, yes, but never one on either you or William."
"You've always surprised me, Kat. When they come for you, go. Don't hesitate, don't draw attention to yourself. Mingle with the other passengers, the women and don't let them know that you are my daughter. If you play it right," he shifted and waved for his child to come closer. "Play it right and when they release the women into the custody of the governor in Kingston you shall be released as well."
"Surely the Bahamas are closer, Father," she returned, easing the cover away from the wound. As far as she could tell there was no putrefaction yet.
"Aye, but Jamaica is the Crown here, lass," he replied. "Listen to me, Kat. Do as your father says. Don't let on that you are my daughter. They will detain you with the officers and I."
She bit her lip and nodded dutifully. But as she reached to change the dressing on his wound, he missed the glint in her eyes that would have reminded him of his son. And his own eyes. It was a glint of determination.
**
She stumbled back across the clearing. Her bonnet was around her neck, slapping at her back. It was a trade off in her mind whether it was cooler on her head or where it was. Her dress was muddy from the rain that had fallen the night before. At least it settled the dust, she thought, but caused moist changes on the injured.
A glance toward the bay showed what was left of the Archangel. It listed on its side. One of its main masts was cracked and dangling. Even from this distance, she could see the battle scoring on the side of the ship. Although a cargo ship and passenger transport, its several guns had seen action. Too much in her estimation.
She lifted her hem to allow her to quickly jog across the clearing to the rest of the passengers. Her slippers didn't give her protection and she uttered a very unladylike curse as she entered the circle of the other women that had been aboard her father's ship.
"Really, Miss Miller," Mary McMullen replied.
"My apologies, ma'am," Katherine said, a trifle too quickly. It was obvious that her mind wasn't entirely on that task.
Mary fanned herself and gave a knowing smile to her companion, a certain Petunia Evans. "You were raised by your father, were you not?"
The elder woman frowned slightly at the look in Katherine's eyes when the girl adjusted her bonnet. "My mother passed when I was eleven, Mrs. McMullen. I have lived most of my life with my aunt in Portsmouth."
"I had thought."
"I have sailed with my father to America, to the Gold Coast and now to Jamaica," Katherine replied. "How are the children?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Mrs. Evans continued to fan herself. "And the officers of the Archangel?"
Katherine grimaced. Before she could answer two of the remaining passenger men joined their threesome. She nodded in greeting. "The first lieutenant and the doctor are dead, I'm afraid. The other officers.including my father.are well enough. Several injuries, I'm afraid, however. Some serious."
"I had thought so. So much loss of life," one of the elderly men recounted. "Most men, and quite a few of the boys."
"It is the French," the other man answered. Katherine had yet to ascertain their names. "Rather be dead than a prisoner, most of them would say."
Katherine frowned slightly and continued to shake her head. "My father thinks that the Governor in Kingston will send a mediary for us. At that point, most of the women."
".will be released. It is under the Articles of War, yes," one of the men agreed.
"But, sir, what is the clause for officers?"
The man reacted to the sound of fear in Katherine's voice. "Ah, lass. If they are officers and gentlemen and the Archangel has surrendered and does not try to escape, they will be spared until they are placed in a French prison."
Katherine lowered her eyes. Mrs. McMullen answered. "A fate worse than death, surely?"
As the men and women around her erupted into conversation, the girl raised her eyes. Petunia Evans would later describe her look as either inspired or horrified, but either way, the look in Katherine's eyes would haunt her for some time.
**
Isla Flora St. James's Island The same time
"Blast."
Horatio Hornblower glanced sideways at Mr. Kennedy and grimaced. "Is that your personal opinion of the situation, Mr. Kennedy?"
"It certainly does look as though that ship has seen more action than we have had in the last six months together." Kennedy agreed, his blue eyes flashing in the heat of the Caribbean day.
William Bush gave a wry grin and looked over his shoulder at Archibald Kennedy before he returned his gaze to his glass. "Is that a comment on our boredom or on the poor status of that ship, Mr. Kennedy?"
Hornblower barely held back with a choke of laughter. He was beginning to like Bush or at least appreciate his dry sense of humor. Besides, any time spent off of the Renown and away from Captain Sawyer was cause for some happiness. He brandished his glass and looked across the small inlet as his superior officer was doing at that moment.
"Well, Mr. Bush?" he pressed. "What say you?"
"The ship certainly has seen more action that we have," Bush intoned, lowly. In contrast to his dear friend Kennedy, Bush was shorter and darker. His chestnut hair and blue eyes seemed plain next to Archie's blond locks and bright blue eyes, but the expressive face which the hair framed was anything but mundane. Their voices, too, were very different. Archie had always been excitable both in actions and speech. It seemed the William Bush was much more deliberate in speech and action and that was to be heard in his voice. "But at this point, I'm more inclined to worry for the supplies it was carrying and the passengers that were on board, Mr. Hornblower."
"Aye, sir," he agreed. He scanned the other side of the beach. So far they had only seen two French sentries and the men of the Renown were getting antsy. "We'll have to do something soon, Mr. Bush, or the men will begin to question their purpose here."
Bush quietly collapsed his glass and frowned. "I realize that, Mr. Hornblower. I realize that. Mr. Kennedy? Please inform Mr. Matthews and Styles to ready the men for charge." He turned to the boy next to him. "Wellard? Find Mr. Holmes to ready what gunpowder we brought with us."
Horatio nodded quickly and added his input. "We should split the company, Mr. Bush. Mr. Kennedy and I could lead the men with the gunpowder around to the camp from the western side. If it's the same as most other temporary camps set up by the French, the supplies and ammunition will be on the leeward side. Then you could approach from the beach."
".and cut off their escape route. Clever, Hornblower," Bush agreed quietly. "We shall have to give you a head start. Backtrack to the beach and around. Say.fifteen to twenty minutes? It will give you time to place charges if given the opportunity. Yes?"
"Aye, sir," Hornblower answered. "With your permission?"
Bush nodded and returned to observing the opposite beach. As several of his meager group of men split off to follow Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Kennedy into the jungle of the island, he sighed under his breath. "Damn. I wish I knew where the passengers were. Mr. Styles? Gather the troops and alert the Marines. We shall charge at the top of the hour."
**
Katherine finished knotting the two strips of muslin and cotton together and tightened it. It was a slip knot and she was quite happy with the outcome. A young lad of maybe 10 watched her actions with an interested eye. "You'll learn the knots someday," she encouraged. The boy gave her a smile and rose to scamper of to his mother.
"I think this is quite the irrational option, Miss Miller," Mary commented. She tucked her skirt about her legs and frowned. "And the waste of a perfectly good petticoat in my estimation."
"I want to be prepared in any way if an opportunity presents itself," she replied, glancing up at the other women. The men were standing sentry at the door. "I don't know if any will, but I do wish not to leave my father helpless with the French if I'm given the option. They've taken our weapons and all we have left are things like this."
"Our clothes." Petunia sighed. "What do you think you'll do with that?"
Katherine looked down at the looped and measured lengths of cotton. Then with raised eyebrows, she shrugged gently. "I'm not quite sure, but it might come in for use."
Before she could continue with her explanation, she heard a loud shout in French.alarm.and then several rounds of gunfire. There was a far off cry of "Marines to me" and then another round of parry fire.
"Someone is attacking the camp," one of the older men replied from the door. He ducked as stray fire hit the exterior of the house.
"Someone has rebelled?" one of the women asked.
Katherine followed one of the young boys to the window and pulled him back by his breeches as he tried to look out the window. "Down, James." When she set the lad on his feet, she glanced out the window. After a moment of searching the area, she frowned. "Not rebelling. I see British naval uniforms. I do believe someone has launched a rescue."
Mary and Petunia backed to the corner of the house until Katherine frowned and waved them more towards the center of the structure. "We're saved?"
The girl lifted and eyebrow and sighed under her breath: "Probably have need of the supplies." Then turning, she saw the two guards from the door run off.
One of the men at the door cautiously opened it and glanced out. "There's no one manning the door. We could make a run for it."
Katherine was going to state her opposition when another round of parry fire hit the cabin. She ducked and breathed out a small cry of outrage. "We couldn't be sitting ducks any more, I suppose, out there than here."
"The jungle," the man agreed.
As the room dissolved into men gathering their wives and children, other men helping still other women, Katherine picked up her makeshift rope of cotton strips and tripped toward the door. She left her bonnet lying in the dust on the floor.
**
There was no use for the rope, but she still clung to it, slung over her shoulder. Her hands, however, were filled. She half pulled, half carried small James Smith by the hand and had absconded with a gun with the other. As they approached the edge of the jungle behind the others, she heard a loud shout in French and twisted around. She felt the child bury his face into her skirts and she faced the French solider. Her hands somehow held the single shot pistol steady, but she never had a chance to fire. He fell in a mess of blood and skin.
Before she could even put the safety back on the gun, she was faced with a strong chest and dark blue of a Naval lieutenant uniform. The gun was wrenched from her hand with a shouted apology and her world was filled with a man's back as he twisted and fired the gun.
"Renown's to me!"
It was a deep voice, but more so in feeling than in tone. Her hand landed at his back.
"Miss?" the solider shouted and reached out to gather her hand in his. James rushed behind her, still clinging to both her hand and skirts. "Out of range, Miss, run for the jungle. Now!"
She tried to push James ahead of her, but yelled as a French solider appeared in front of her. The officer cursed and she felt the displaced air of a bullet as it flew past her ear. The child screamed and suddenly a strong arm encircled her. "Blasted French," came the low curse. He pushed her toward a clump of trees. As they rounded and crouched, two more officers joined them along with two lesser sailors. The child landed on her lap and whimpered.
Katherine tried to look out at the camp and the rest of the passengers but had her shoulder and head pushed low by the officer. "My apologies," came the low comment. "But please stay down, Miss."
He leaned around the tree and then rocketed back as return fire pinned him. "Damn, Hornblower, where are you? Set the charges, man," the officer complained under his breath.
"Commission?" Katherine breathed.
"The Renown, ma'am," the officer stated under his breath. "Second lieutenant. Ship?"
"The Archangel. Supplies and passenger. Captain James Miller commissioned," Katherine answered easily. "Raided and captured one week ago."
The officer squinted at the name, but held his tongue. "Officers?"
"Four dead, three living. Captain Miller among them, sir. Twenty dead among passengers. Twelve living."
"Very well informed," the officer said and turned to pin Katherine with a stare as he repowdered his gun. "Ma'am?"
She started momentarily at the pale blueness of his eyes. His hair was unruly and curled about his brow. Whether the weather or his own perspiration was responsible, his face was slick with moisture. The other men with them emptied their guns towards the approaching French. "If you are asking if I can reload guns, I can. Hand me the powder, sir."
"Much obliged," he intoned and flipped over to glance at the approaching French. "Damn. Too close to retreat."
Katherine loaded his gun as quickly as possible as he shot with the other gun that he carried. They exchanged firearms. She continued to load powder as the other men around her emptied their guns into the surrounding soldiers.
As they fired a third round, she felt his hand close on her wrist. As the first French soldiers rounded the clump of trees, she was suddenly pressed to the trunk behind him as he rose into a crouch. Almost reluctantly, she realized that he was completely hiding her with his bulk from the other approaching men.
In French, she heard the call for surrender. She was surprised to see him turn and glance at her and the child with her before he began to remove the sword from his waist. The sinking feeling in her stomach let her know that if she had not been there, the officer might have attempted to fight further. She was going to voice that opinion when the world suddenly exploded in light, sound and the god awful smell of ignited gunpowder in large quantity.
But once the light and sound disappeared, Katherine saw that men in the red of the Royal Marines and blue of the Royal Navy surrounded them. In the space of one moment, it was clear that they had somehow won the fight.
The officer with her rose as two others ran across the clearing to him. "Mr. Bush, so glad that you are safe." The darker of the two younger officers called.
Katherine gasped at the name and stared at the older lieutenant. He glanced at her and gave a weak smile. "Lt. Bush of the Renown," he explained as he reached to gather the guns from her hands. "I am known to Captain Miller. Do you know where they are held, ma'am?"
"Captain Miller and the other officers are wounded," she felt the words trip out of her mouth before she could monitor her speech. "They are in the cabin at the far side of the encampment, sir."
"Again, very well informed," Bush commented as he joined his fellow officers.
"I should be informed, Mr. Bush," Katherine voiced, pulling James to his feet. "He is my father."
"Blast."
She bit her lip as soon as the word left her mouth, but it wasn't quick enough for her father not to hear.
"Katherine. Such language. Your mother would turn in her grave."
"With respect, Father," she answered, turning from the window. "With all respect, Mother was never held prisoner in the West Indies."
When her father sighed, she turned back to the window. Although quite clouded, the glass showed what was visible of the small village and clearing. Several French soldiers stood at arms in near the door. Beyond that, Katherine could see what remained of the meager and tired group of passengers that had traveled on her father's cargo ship. They milled near the door of another small cabin. She frowned and swiped at her brown hair as it fell into her eyes. "They'll be taking me out soon to rejoin the other passengers."
She turned and retreated to her father's side. The crimson stain on his leg was spreading. She knew that leeching would be his best option, but they had no such luxury.
"It doesn't pain me, Katie, daughter, if that's what you are wondering," Captain Miller replied the unanswered question. "You needn't stand vigil. My officers and I can take care of our injuries fine."
Katherine sighed heavily and shook her head. "I've never seen this much blood, Father. I could help with injuries, yes, but never one on either you or William."
"You've always surprised me, Kat. When they come for you, go. Don't hesitate, don't draw attention to yourself. Mingle with the other passengers, the women and don't let them know that you are my daughter. If you play it right," he shifted and waved for his child to come closer. "Play it right and when they release the women into the custody of the governor in Kingston you shall be released as well."
"Surely the Bahamas are closer, Father," she returned, easing the cover away from the wound. As far as she could tell there was no putrefaction yet.
"Aye, but Jamaica is the Crown here, lass," he replied. "Listen to me, Kat. Do as your father says. Don't let on that you are my daughter. They will detain you with the officers and I."
She bit her lip and nodded dutifully. But as she reached to change the dressing on his wound, he missed the glint in her eyes that would have reminded him of his son. And his own eyes. It was a glint of determination.
**
She stumbled back across the clearing. Her bonnet was around her neck, slapping at her back. It was a trade off in her mind whether it was cooler on her head or where it was. Her dress was muddy from the rain that had fallen the night before. At least it settled the dust, she thought, but caused moist changes on the injured.
A glance toward the bay showed what was left of the Archangel. It listed on its side. One of its main masts was cracked and dangling. Even from this distance, she could see the battle scoring on the side of the ship. Although a cargo ship and passenger transport, its several guns had seen action. Too much in her estimation.
She lifted her hem to allow her to quickly jog across the clearing to the rest of the passengers. Her slippers didn't give her protection and she uttered a very unladylike curse as she entered the circle of the other women that had been aboard her father's ship.
"Really, Miss Miller," Mary McMullen replied.
"My apologies, ma'am," Katherine said, a trifle too quickly. It was obvious that her mind wasn't entirely on that task.
Mary fanned herself and gave a knowing smile to her companion, a certain Petunia Evans. "You were raised by your father, were you not?"
The elder woman frowned slightly at the look in Katherine's eyes when the girl adjusted her bonnet. "My mother passed when I was eleven, Mrs. McMullen. I have lived most of my life with my aunt in Portsmouth."
"I had thought."
"I have sailed with my father to America, to the Gold Coast and now to Jamaica," Katherine replied. "How are the children?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Mrs. Evans continued to fan herself. "And the officers of the Archangel?"
Katherine grimaced. Before she could answer two of the remaining passenger men joined their threesome. She nodded in greeting. "The first lieutenant and the doctor are dead, I'm afraid. The other officers.including my father.are well enough. Several injuries, I'm afraid, however. Some serious."
"I had thought so. So much loss of life," one of the elderly men recounted. "Most men, and quite a few of the boys."
"It is the French," the other man answered. Katherine had yet to ascertain their names. "Rather be dead than a prisoner, most of them would say."
Katherine frowned slightly and continued to shake her head. "My father thinks that the Governor in Kingston will send a mediary for us. At that point, most of the women."
".will be released. It is under the Articles of War, yes," one of the men agreed.
"But, sir, what is the clause for officers?"
The man reacted to the sound of fear in Katherine's voice. "Ah, lass. If they are officers and gentlemen and the Archangel has surrendered and does not try to escape, they will be spared until they are placed in a French prison."
Katherine lowered her eyes. Mrs. McMullen answered. "A fate worse than death, surely?"
As the men and women around her erupted into conversation, the girl raised her eyes. Petunia Evans would later describe her look as either inspired or horrified, but either way, the look in Katherine's eyes would haunt her for some time.
**
Isla Flora St. James's Island The same time
"Blast."
Horatio Hornblower glanced sideways at Mr. Kennedy and grimaced. "Is that your personal opinion of the situation, Mr. Kennedy?"
"It certainly does look as though that ship has seen more action than we have had in the last six months together." Kennedy agreed, his blue eyes flashing in the heat of the Caribbean day.
William Bush gave a wry grin and looked over his shoulder at Archibald Kennedy before he returned his gaze to his glass. "Is that a comment on our boredom or on the poor status of that ship, Mr. Kennedy?"
Hornblower barely held back with a choke of laughter. He was beginning to like Bush or at least appreciate his dry sense of humor. Besides, any time spent off of the Renown and away from Captain Sawyer was cause for some happiness. He brandished his glass and looked across the small inlet as his superior officer was doing at that moment.
"Well, Mr. Bush?" he pressed. "What say you?"
"The ship certainly has seen more action that we have," Bush intoned, lowly. In contrast to his dear friend Kennedy, Bush was shorter and darker. His chestnut hair and blue eyes seemed plain next to Archie's blond locks and bright blue eyes, but the expressive face which the hair framed was anything but mundane. Their voices, too, were very different. Archie had always been excitable both in actions and speech. It seemed the William Bush was much more deliberate in speech and action and that was to be heard in his voice. "But at this point, I'm more inclined to worry for the supplies it was carrying and the passengers that were on board, Mr. Hornblower."
"Aye, sir," he agreed. He scanned the other side of the beach. So far they had only seen two French sentries and the men of the Renown were getting antsy. "We'll have to do something soon, Mr. Bush, or the men will begin to question their purpose here."
Bush quietly collapsed his glass and frowned. "I realize that, Mr. Hornblower. I realize that. Mr. Kennedy? Please inform Mr. Matthews and Styles to ready the men for charge." He turned to the boy next to him. "Wellard? Find Mr. Holmes to ready what gunpowder we brought with us."
Horatio nodded quickly and added his input. "We should split the company, Mr. Bush. Mr. Kennedy and I could lead the men with the gunpowder around to the camp from the western side. If it's the same as most other temporary camps set up by the French, the supplies and ammunition will be on the leeward side. Then you could approach from the beach."
".and cut off their escape route. Clever, Hornblower," Bush agreed quietly. "We shall have to give you a head start. Backtrack to the beach and around. Say.fifteen to twenty minutes? It will give you time to place charges if given the opportunity. Yes?"
"Aye, sir," Hornblower answered. "With your permission?"
Bush nodded and returned to observing the opposite beach. As several of his meager group of men split off to follow Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Kennedy into the jungle of the island, he sighed under his breath. "Damn. I wish I knew where the passengers were. Mr. Styles? Gather the troops and alert the Marines. We shall charge at the top of the hour."
**
Katherine finished knotting the two strips of muslin and cotton together and tightened it. It was a slip knot and she was quite happy with the outcome. A young lad of maybe 10 watched her actions with an interested eye. "You'll learn the knots someday," she encouraged. The boy gave her a smile and rose to scamper of to his mother.
"I think this is quite the irrational option, Miss Miller," Mary commented. She tucked her skirt about her legs and frowned. "And the waste of a perfectly good petticoat in my estimation."
"I want to be prepared in any way if an opportunity presents itself," she replied, glancing up at the other women. The men were standing sentry at the door. "I don't know if any will, but I do wish not to leave my father helpless with the French if I'm given the option. They've taken our weapons and all we have left are things like this."
"Our clothes." Petunia sighed. "What do you think you'll do with that?"
Katherine looked down at the looped and measured lengths of cotton. Then with raised eyebrows, she shrugged gently. "I'm not quite sure, but it might come in for use."
Before she could continue with her explanation, she heard a loud shout in French.alarm.and then several rounds of gunfire. There was a far off cry of "Marines to me" and then another round of parry fire.
"Someone is attacking the camp," one of the older men replied from the door. He ducked as stray fire hit the exterior of the house.
"Someone has rebelled?" one of the women asked.
Katherine followed one of the young boys to the window and pulled him back by his breeches as he tried to look out the window. "Down, James." When she set the lad on his feet, she glanced out the window. After a moment of searching the area, she frowned. "Not rebelling. I see British naval uniforms. I do believe someone has launched a rescue."
Mary and Petunia backed to the corner of the house until Katherine frowned and waved them more towards the center of the structure. "We're saved?"
The girl lifted and eyebrow and sighed under her breath: "Probably have need of the supplies." Then turning, she saw the two guards from the door run off.
One of the men at the door cautiously opened it and glanced out. "There's no one manning the door. We could make a run for it."
Katherine was going to state her opposition when another round of parry fire hit the cabin. She ducked and breathed out a small cry of outrage. "We couldn't be sitting ducks any more, I suppose, out there than here."
"The jungle," the man agreed.
As the room dissolved into men gathering their wives and children, other men helping still other women, Katherine picked up her makeshift rope of cotton strips and tripped toward the door. She left her bonnet lying in the dust on the floor.
**
There was no use for the rope, but she still clung to it, slung over her shoulder. Her hands, however, were filled. She half pulled, half carried small James Smith by the hand and had absconded with a gun with the other. As they approached the edge of the jungle behind the others, she heard a loud shout in French and twisted around. She felt the child bury his face into her skirts and she faced the French solider. Her hands somehow held the single shot pistol steady, but she never had a chance to fire. He fell in a mess of blood and skin.
Before she could even put the safety back on the gun, she was faced with a strong chest and dark blue of a Naval lieutenant uniform. The gun was wrenched from her hand with a shouted apology and her world was filled with a man's back as he twisted and fired the gun.
"Renown's to me!"
It was a deep voice, but more so in feeling than in tone. Her hand landed at his back.
"Miss?" the solider shouted and reached out to gather her hand in his. James rushed behind her, still clinging to both her hand and skirts. "Out of range, Miss, run for the jungle. Now!"
She tried to push James ahead of her, but yelled as a French solider appeared in front of her. The officer cursed and she felt the displaced air of a bullet as it flew past her ear. The child screamed and suddenly a strong arm encircled her. "Blasted French," came the low curse. He pushed her toward a clump of trees. As they rounded and crouched, two more officers joined them along with two lesser sailors. The child landed on her lap and whimpered.
Katherine tried to look out at the camp and the rest of the passengers but had her shoulder and head pushed low by the officer. "My apologies," came the low comment. "But please stay down, Miss."
He leaned around the tree and then rocketed back as return fire pinned him. "Damn, Hornblower, where are you? Set the charges, man," the officer complained under his breath.
"Commission?" Katherine breathed.
"The Renown, ma'am," the officer stated under his breath. "Second lieutenant. Ship?"
"The Archangel. Supplies and passenger. Captain James Miller commissioned," Katherine answered easily. "Raided and captured one week ago."
The officer squinted at the name, but held his tongue. "Officers?"
"Four dead, three living. Captain Miller among them, sir. Twenty dead among passengers. Twelve living."
"Very well informed," the officer said and turned to pin Katherine with a stare as he repowdered his gun. "Ma'am?"
She started momentarily at the pale blueness of his eyes. His hair was unruly and curled about his brow. Whether the weather or his own perspiration was responsible, his face was slick with moisture. The other men with them emptied their guns towards the approaching French. "If you are asking if I can reload guns, I can. Hand me the powder, sir."
"Much obliged," he intoned and flipped over to glance at the approaching French. "Damn. Too close to retreat."
Katherine loaded his gun as quickly as possible as he shot with the other gun that he carried. They exchanged firearms. She continued to load powder as the other men around her emptied their guns into the surrounding soldiers.
As they fired a third round, she felt his hand close on her wrist. As the first French soldiers rounded the clump of trees, she was suddenly pressed to the trunk behind him as he rose into a crouch. Almost reluctantly, she realized that he was completely hiding her with his bulk from the other approaching men.
In French, she heard the call for surrender. She was surprised to see him turn and glance at her and the child with her before he began to remove the sword from his waist. The sinking feeling in her stomach let her know that if she had not been there, the officer might have attempted to fight further. She was going to voice that opinion when the world suddenly exploded in light, sound and the god awful smell of ignited gunpowder in large quantity.
But once the light and sound disappeared, Katherine saw that men in the red of the Royal Marines and blue of the Royal Navy surrounded them. In the space of one moment, it was clear that they had somehow won the fight.
The officer with her rose as two others ran across the clearing to him. "Mr. Bush, so glad that you are safe." The darker of the two younger officers called.
Katherine gasped at the name and stared at the older lieutenant. He glanced at her and gave a weak smile. "Lt. Bush of the Renown," he explained as he reached to gather the guns from her hands. "I am known to Captain Miller. Do you know where they are held, ma'am?"
"Captain Miller and the other officers are wounded," she felt the words trip out of her mouth before she could monitor her speech. "They are in the cabin at the far side of the encampment, sir."
"Again, very well informed," Bush commented as he joined his fellow officers.
"I should be informed, Mr. Bush," Katherine voiced, pulling James to his feet. "He is my father."
