Nancy Whiskey. Laurel Ames

I am quite sure Trueblood would be able to turn this conversation to his advantage. I have scarcely ever seen so much social adroitness packed into one person, albeit a large one.”

      Daniel gaped at her and then smiled appreciatively. “You have his measure, then.”

      “I do not mean to offend you. Your brother has been most kind to me, besides helping to save my life. But I always find myself wondering what is going on behind those dark eyes.”

      “A great deal, I assure you.”

      “If I were a hostess, I would always invite Trueblood, for I would know I could depend on him to handle any social disaster that might arise, or at least, dispose of it skillfully.”

      “But you would not invite me,” Daniel concluded, his eyebrows furrowed delectably.

      “Oh, yes, I would, for one always needs a brooding, mysterious man about.”

      “To create the sort of social disasters Trueblood is adept at handling.”

      “You make an admirable pair. I am sure the English ladies adored you.”

      “We were invited everywhere, but then Trueblood has many friends in England. Do you entertain much in Somerset?”

      “My aunt does. She could have turned me into a nanny for the children, but she raised me almost like a daughter.”

      “Rather terrible of your father to tear you away.” Daniel tried to sound regretful.

      “I assure you he came just in the nick of time,” Nancy replied with an impish smile.

      “What?” asked Daniel, who had been watching for the dimple that lurked at the left corner of her mouth.

      “I lived in momentary dread of Reverend Bently making an offer for my hand. Both Aunt and Uncle seemed to think I would make an admirable wife for a man of the cloth, seeing as I have a bent for nursing.”

      “And like a dutiful and grateful niece, you would have accepted him.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. If I could not have thought of a way out of it. But it does seem so often, when I am in the most desperate straits, that a solution will pop into my head from nowhere.”

      “Desperate straits?”

      “He nearly proposed to me one Sunday, but I fainted.”

      “But how do you know then—”

      “I didn’t really faint, of course, but only pretended so I would not have to accept or refuse.”

      “That bad, is he?”

      “I have no particular aversion to Oliver Bently. He is rather more than twice my age, but he is not ugly by any means. There is only this, that having regarded him as my spiritual leader, I could not imagine myself crawling into bed with him.”

      Daniel broke into laughter, and Nancy admired the way his blue eyes lit when the corners crinkled.

      “It is nearly time for the midday meal, if I am counting the bells aright,” she said of the muffled clanging. “Would you be kind enough to lead me in, sir?”

      “I would be honored, Miss Riley.” Daniel took her arm with great ceremony.

      “What do you suppose is the correct protocol for a stairway that is little more than ladder? Shall I go first so as not to expose my ankles?”

      “No, I must go first. In case you should fall, I will catch you.”

      “We will try it your way. I am sure when I query Trueblood he will say the opposite of whatever you have done.”

      “Undoubtedly, Miss Riley.”

      

      They were expecting to see land within the hour, and Nancy had been hugging the rail to get the first possible glimpse, her golden hair licked about by the wind. She was not used to being idle, so the whole trip had been in the nature of a tour for her, though the hardships of being confined with little privacy, frequently tossed about a small cabin and fed on boiled peas and salted meat would not have seemed a treat to many young women.

      “Trueblood,” Daniel shouted from the deck to his brother perched in the rigging, “do you see anything?”

      Trueblood turned from his scrutiny of the horizon. “A ship,” he called down through cupped hands, risking a fall from the ratlines, where he clung by his legs.

      “What flag?” the captain called, handing a telescope to a seaman and sending him climbing the lines to the top of the mainmast.

      “I cannot make it out,” Trueblood shouted.

      Even before the answer came the captain began giving orders, and sailors scurried aloft to let out more sail, while others began to load the deck guns. They had only two sixpounders and a bow chaser, besides the stern guns, none of them much use if they were being pursued by a warship.

      “French, sir”, the seaman called down.

      “Damn!” the captain said, and he turned to Daniel. “I’ll have to ask you to take Miss Riley below. We won’t give up without a fight.”

      “No, I won’t go,” she protested, pulling away from Daniel’s grasp and going back to the rail.

      He came to stand beside her, watching the frigate overtake them with alarming speed and wondering what inducement he could offer to get Nancy below hatches. “We are very much in the way here. If we hinder these seamen in their work, we may face capture.”

      As the captain sent crewmen hurrying to load the carronades in the stern, Daniel pulled Nancy across the deck. The enemy ship loomed larger and a warning shot passed across the bow of the Little Sarah but the captain ignored it.

      “Daniel, why are they firing on us?”

      “This is a British ship.”

      “But we are in American waters.”

      “A moot point if they capture us. Now, stop struggling and come below where it is a little safer.”

      The second shot passed over the deck and caught a luckless sailor. Nancy gaped as blood spattered in all directions and his headless trunk fell to the deck. She could not even insist that she should stay to render aid. The man was obviously beyond help.

      Daniel followed her down the companionway ladder. “Stay low, lower than the bed,” he warned her as he thrust her into her cabin and pulled a crate against the outside of her door. Ignoring her shouting and pounding, he joined Trueblood on deck to help reload and aim one of the carronades, freeing the gun crew to climb aloft and help let out more sail. The privateer had their range already. Its next volley of shots could sink them. But the Little Sarah had turned tail and headed south. The back of the ship presented a smaller target, of course, but a more vulnerable one. And they were heading away from Delaware Bay. Both men knew that a heavily laden merchant had little chance of escaping a fast warship.

      “Try for the rigging!” Trueblood shouted above the roar of fire from the other ship.

      “That is all we can hope for, to hurt their steering. We cannot do any real damage.”

      Daniel held the gun steady and shouted now for Trueblood to touch the piece of smoldering hemp to the fuse.

      The small shot carried away a few lines and put a hole in one sail. Meanwhile the privateer’s bow chasers splintered the mounting of the Sarah’s rudder. The brothers looked at each other hopelessly as the ship started to drift.

      A cannonball through the mizzenmast sent splinters into a half-dozen screaming men and brought the whole twisted load of sail and lines down on top of the Tallents.

      “Ouch,” Daniel yelped, as Trueblood freed him from the tangle. “Damn, a splinter in my leg.”

      Trueblood tied his handkerchief tightly above the wound on his brother’s thigh and said,