Captain Dawson resisted the irrational impulse to pace about his deck as the British gig drew closer with each stroke of the oars. Such a display of agitation would serve no purpose except to reveal his unease to those watching him across the water and possibly increase the suspicion of the boarding party.
Thomas Cullin came up from below decks and stood beside his captain.
"I've told Kathryn to stay where she is needed and not to come to the main deck until she is told."
Dawson's gaze never left the approaching boat. "Did you tell her why? She doesn't like mysteries."
"Yes, she knows. She also knows that there is not a man on board who wouldn't kill to protect her, especially you and Joseph."
Dawson's jaw clenched at the mere thought of anyone – especially the insolent British – harming his daughter. "I'll kill them with my bare hands if they …" He stopped this immediately before the horrific images he had in his mind were given a voice. There was precious little time to dwell on anything but the immediate situation.
The Surprise's gig was now along side Odyssey, gently rolling on the waves as it was secured to the main chains.
"Cullin, they will want to see our papers."
"I have them."
"Do not show them our muster rolls. Only if they ask to see them."
"I understand, sir."
Dawson turned and walked toward the entry port as he heard the telltale footfalls of men climbing up Odyssey's side.
"Let us greet our visitors."
As was typical of a Royal Navy boarding party, the Royal Marines reached the deck first to ensure safe passage for their officers. There were armed with pistols that were ideal for close-quarter situations. The six marines assumed flanking positions – three on either side of the entry port – as the British lieutenant finally gained the deck and stood before Dawson, his cocked hat partially obscuring his face.
He appeared to be a young man, not quite 30, with long dark hair clubbed at the back. "Lt. Pullings of His Britannic Majesty's Ship, Surprise." His voice was crisp and formal.
Dawson took a step forward. "Alexander Dawson, Captain of the Odyssey."
The lieutenant continued. "Sir, may I see your papers, if you please."
Thomas Cullin handed them over to the British lieutenant who read them over carefully, and finding all was in order, handed them back.
"Captain Aubrey's respects, sir. He inquires if you have wounded aboard and are in need of assistance."
Years in the merchant marine taught Dawson to be wary of overtures like this, but he thought it best to answer honestly.
"We have 22 wounded below and they are being tended to by my surgeon. Ten more are unaccounted for and feared lost overboard in the storm."
For a moment, Dawson saw a flicker of recognition pass across the eyes of the British lieutenant. It was a split-second where the flags and colors and uniforms that currently separated them vanished in the shared understanding of the inherent dangers of their lives at sea. It was the unspoken agreement that despite whatever political machinations may be occurring in their respective countries, the first and truest enemy of any sailor is the sea itself.
"That is a substantial loss, sir." Pullings reflexively looked up at Odyssey's rigging and at the men hard at work to effect repairs. "Have you enough crew to man her safely?"
The concern was genuine and Dawson relaxed somewhat.
"Yes, provided we're not struck by another one any time soon. My surgeon tells me the injuries are not severe. Many of my men will be back to duty come the morrow."
The lieutenant nodded. "We experienced only a very hard rain aboard the Surprise. Your ship must have borne the full force of the storm from the looks of things."
Pullings turned to face Dawson once more.
"Sir, have you spoken any other ships since your departure from Boston Harbor?"
"Only a few merchant ships. Yours is the first ship we've spoken since the storm."
Dawson could see momentary indecision in the young man's features.
"Sir, we have word of a French ship, 44 guns, sailing in these waters. Being a privateer, they may not respect neutrality laws and would commandeer your vessel. Several British and American merchant ships have fallen into her hands already."
"Have you the name of this ship?"
"Acheron, sir. Be vigilant on your way to your destination and should you sight her, give her a wide berth."
Pullings signaled to one of the marine sentries who summoned the cox'n in the gig to be ready for their departure.
"You have repairs to effect sir. I shall not further detain you." He touched the tip of his cocked hat to Dawson and turned toward the entry port.
"Lieutenant," Pullings stopped with one foot on the tumblehome. "Please convey to Captain Aubrey my compliments. Safe journey."
It was the first trace of a smile he'd seen from the British visitor. "Safe journey to you, sir."
With that, he was gone over the side followed by the six marines, they climbed aboard their gig and rowed their way back to the Surprise.
Sailing master Cullin appeared by Dawson's side, watching the British board their ship and set sail.
"Well, that went better than we could have expected."
"Yes, but as you just heard from our visitor, we have one more danger waiting for us out here. Let's get her sailing as soon as we can. I don't want to linger here longer than we must."
Cullin nodded and briskly went about supervising the repairs, receiving status reports from each station as he went.
Dawson, armed with the information of a large privateer hunting in these waters, scanned the horizon with a new apprehension.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR