walking about their plans and spitting tobacco in a juicy fit of naval architecture.
Once the slave cabins had been swept out and prepared for quarters, the men turned to washing up their few garments, scrubbing the worst dirt from their bodies, and getting ready for the evening meal. Alan saw to the simmering pots that contained haunches of a fresh-slaughtered pair of sheep, inspecting the snap beans and ears of corn that would be the hands' suppers. Women were baking cornbread for them, and there were more smiles and flirtatious looks passing between his sailors and the slaves than before.
'Let them turn in after supper,' Alan directed Coe. 'We'll start on the boats in the morning. Just as long as there is no trouble.'
'Won't be, Mister Lewrie.' Coe smiled. 'Once they eat their fill an' 'ave their grog, they'll be droppin' like tired puppies. Won't be no trouble from 'em tonight, I lay ya.'
'I can believe that.' Alan smiled back, realizing how bone-weary he was himself. His clothing itched and still smelled like dead fish—foul as a mud flat. He could feel grit every time he moved. 'I'll be berthing in the house, if I'm needed.'
He entered the house through the back door and clumped to the parlor to pour himself a drink. There was a decanter of rhenish out on the sideboard already, and he filled up a large glass of it, slumping down on the settee once more in weariness. Someone had lit a fire in the parlor, and he stared at the dancing flames as the hard wood began to take light from the pine shavings and kindling beneath it, almost mesmerized by exhaustion. Before his eyes could seal themselves shut with gritty sleep, Governour and Burgess came into the house by the front doors, forcing him to sit up and try to look alert.
'It's quite homey,' Governour said happily, plopping down into a large wing chair nearer the fire and putting his legs up on a hassock.
'How are your men?' Burgess asked Lewrie. He poured himself a drink from the sideboard.
'Cleaned up, ready to eat and get their grog ration. Coe assures me they'll sleep like babies after last night.'
'Mine, too,' Burgess replied, coming to sit next to him on the settee. 'Let some of them sleep the afternoon away so they'd be fresh on guard mount for the night. Lookouts are posted for anything, coming or going.'
'Good,' Alan said automatically, glad to leave their security in the capable hands of the North Carolina Volunteers.
'Now, what do we do to escape this muddle?' Governour asked from his chair, leaning back and almost lost behind the wings.
Alan outlined what they would do to make the barges seaworthy and where he hoped to go with them once they were ready to take the water.
'You are confident we can make it?' Governour said.
'We would have to leave at dusk, since there is no cover out in the inlets and marshes,' Alan said slowly. 'We'd be spotted if we left earlier. Only trouble is, the tide will be fully out and slack then, so we'll have to slave to get the barges poled out into deep water. Once we have depth enough, we may do a short row east through a pass called Monday Creek, north of Guinea Marsh and Big Island, if Feather has his geography right. Hoist sail there. It's forty miles or more to the eastern shore. With any decent wind at all, even against the incoming tide flow, we could…'
He paused to use his brain, and it was a painfully dull process.
'Yes?' Governour asked, thinking Alan asleep with his eyes wide open.
'Say… three knots over the ground at the least. We could make forty miles in twelve hours. Fetch the far shore around half past six the next morning, if we left here about half past four or so.'
'Have to lay up for the day,' Burgess said. 'We don't know what the Rebels have for a coast watch on the other shore, if any.'
'Yes,' Alan agreed. 'Then, another thirty miles or so the next night to get out to sea. There are islands off the coast we could lay up in until we spot a British ship. Or skulk from one to the other on our way north. There will be someone patrolling.'
'But how do we get out past the French fleet?' Burgess asked.
'We stay close inshore round Cape Charles,' Alan told him. 'The main entrance they're guarding is south of the Middle Ground by Cape Henry. Nothing of any size may use the Cape Charles pass, and with our shallow draft we could negotiate the shoals close under the cape in the dark, where even an armed cutter could not pursue us.'
'What about rations?' Burgess asked.
'Plenty here,' Governour said. 'Bake enough pone or way-bread for all of us. Casks enough for storage. More water kegs. Meat would be a problem once it's cooked. Or we could slaughter and pack it in brine in small kegs, enough for two or three days at short commons.'
'Too bad we could not jerk some meat, Governour,' Burgess said. 'I have no idea about domestic animals or the chance for fresh game on the eastern shore, or whether it would be safe to hunt.'
'Johnny cake and jerky.' Governour laughed softly. 'Catch crabs and fish for a stew. Alan,' he called out, bringing Lewrie back into their conversation, 'how long to repair the boats?'
'Oh…' Lewrie pondered, having trouble lifting the glass to his lips. He concentrated on it hard. 'Two days. Three at the outside. You would be amazed by what a British sailor can do.'
'That long?' Govemour said, obviously disappointed.
'Might take less. I don't know,' Alan confessed.
'Two days, then,' Burgess calculated. 'Time enough to dry out all our powder. We're as helpless as kittens right now.'
'There is that,' Governour agreed. 'We have the one box of cartouches that stayed dry, but that wouldn't make three decent volleys. Lot of smoke for all the labor we shall be doing. I hope it does not attract any curiosity from further up the neck.'
Their voices droned on, putting Alan to sleep once more. His head slumped down on his chest and his grip on the wine glass loosened until a small trickle into his crotch woke him up with a start.
'Better get to bed,' Governour said, rising to his feet. 'You must be done to a frazzle by now.'
'No, not yet,' Alan countered stubbornly, forcing himself to stand as well. He slurped down the rest of the wine and headed out for the hall to go out back and find a spot where he could take a quick wash. He met the family of the house as they came down the last flight of stairs on the way to their supper in the dining room.
'Evening, ma'am.' Alan smiled at their unwilling hostess.
'Sir,' Mrs. Hayley said, nodding primly. Rodney glared daggers at him.
'Pardon me delaying your supper, ma'am, but would you have some washing facilities?' Alan asked her.
'Ask of the kitchen staff, sir,' she replied stiffly.
'Thank you, ma'am.'
'You shall not dine with us?' the younger sister Nancy asked.
'No!' Mrs. Hayley decided quickly, echoed by the son, and earning the woman a withering glance to even suggest such a traitorous thing.
'I thank you for your kind hospitality, ma'am,' Alan said, addressing himself to the sister. 'But as Lieutenant Chiswick said, we won't intrude on your privacy. I expect our supper will be much later. Duties, you know.'
'I've told the cook to set up a table in the parlor for you, sir.' Mrs. Hayley softened slightly. 'I will not sit down to table with Tories or oppressors who usurp my property.'
'Then I shall not delay you further, ma'am,' Alan said, stung by the hostility and confused by how it waxed and waned by circumstances.
There was a laundry shed out behind the kitchens, and a black maid to stoke up a fire and set some hot water to steeping. Alan discovered a large tub as big as a fresh-water cask aboard ship that had been cut in half for use as a bathing tub. The servants filled it with well water, poured in the buckets of steaming hot water, and provided soap and towels and a lantern, the youngest woman giggling unashamedly as Alan peeled off his coat and waistcoat, until he shooed her out and finished undressing.
He stepped over the side and sank down into the hot water, giving off a moan of pleasure as he settled down chest-deep. All the salt sores and boils a seaman could expect to gather began to yelp painfully to his weary brain. He lathered up the soap with a rag, enjoying the sting of the lye and the pleasant scent of Hungary Water that had been added to the mixture when it was made. He stood and scrubbed every inch of his skin with soap, undid his
