Chapter 19

Wearing a threadbare coat that had belonged to Amelia Robertson's late husband and with an apple and some coins in one pocket and a thick beef sandwich in the other, Billy Fields walked north two weeks after he was arrested and beaten, his hand well healed and his blackened eye back to normal, almost. He took a circuitous route with many pauses and was reasonably sure he was not being followed. The old lady wept as she watched him leave, and Anne stayed in her room, having refused him a farewell kiss.

Three hours later, foot sore and bone weary, he stopped in at Berry's tavern, had a beer and found that there were very few British troops patrolling the area. By sundown he had convinced a Maryland company to take him on as a clerk and his name was back on the rolls. In the morning, he went looking for his old regiment.

That very day two very fancy ducats to a grand farewell party for General William Howe arrived at the tall house in Philadelphia, addressed to Miss Anne Amelia Conroy and to her aunt in a flowery script with many curlicues. The carefully printed invitation, from the press that had once produced Continental currency, featured a view of the setting sun and several Latin mottos. The date was a week hence, May 18.

"You should wear your new dress," said Aunt Amelia, her eyes bright.

"I'm going home." Anne fingered the stiff invitation. "I've had enough of that crowd. They make me ashamed of the British, ashamed to be loyal. Did you hear about them killing men in their sleep, rebels I mean?" She shook her head. "They make a joke of it; 'No Flint" Grey they call the butcher. One more week, and I'd join Billy's company."

She turned away, feeling tears in her eyes. "Immorality seems to be the norm these days, Aunt, carousing, drinking, gambling and whoring. Some of these girls, these women, they're awful, embarrassing."

The older woman nodded and patted her back. "Billy will be all right. He'll survive. But I understand, honestly I do; sometimes they offend me, too. You must do what you think is right." She looked up and smiled. "But I know just what I shall wear."

A week later, by way of a light stagecoach, Anne went down to the mouth of the Susquehanna and found passage on a heavily loaded schooner bound for Fells Point. The skipper said he knew her father and offered her his own cabin. Her aunt had given her enough hard money to pay her way.

The trip was quick and uneventful, the weather warm and the breeze steady. In the busy harbor Anne noticed that several ships were being armed with cannon, something she had never seen on the Bay. From Baltimore Town, she took the regular stage to Annapolis carrying the ship captain's note. He had told her that he had met her father when the Janet Lune's keel was being laid, and said it was a pleasure to carry her home. He did not tell her of the salacious thoughts he had enjoyed while looking at her as the wind whipped her red hair about.

Standing near the rail and watching the spray and the gulls made the young woman recall crossing the wide ocean and meeting the brave Cornish woman who, for some unknown reason, often popped up in her thoughts. She wondered if Elizabeth was now married and free. That thought almost made her laugh, married and free, she couldn't think of the proper word. Was it a conundrum or a paradox?

After almost six months absence, Anne was welcomed with hugs and kisses by her father and his old cook and fell on her bed fully clothed and exhausted. That evening, enjoying some fresh biscuits and cold chicken, she regaled her father with stories of Philadelphia parties and of his sister's handsome home and wide circle of wealthy and loyal friends. "But where is my dear stepmother," she asked, trying hard not to color the word "dear" too highly.

Her father nodded and sighed. "Spending the season managing her farm down in Prince George's. Her overseer resigned for reasons of his own, political I fear, and she did not trust the man he recommended. The taxes are eating her up. She is selling off some of her people."

"I hope I was not the cause..."

"No, no," said her father, raising his hand. "Put it right out of your mind. She will find someone and be back after the harvest I am sure. She's hoping for an extra good tobacco crop." He smiled. "She evidently knows a very dexterous smuggler."

"Are we going to Pirate's Luck this summer?" Anne asked. "What's been going on over on the Shore?"

Her father rubbed his ear and furrowed his brow. "Was some turmoil, but things are settling, calming down. Lot of wheat coming off the shore for Washington, sadly. But many sound men are emerging including the governor. He's a hard man, that one, hard as the iron he brews. The big news, and you may not like this my dear, the big news for our family is that the Janet and the April have both been fitted out and armed as privateers and are at sea. I've rented them and will get half the owner's share of any prizes."

"I don't understand?" The two fast ships were her father's basic source of income as well as of his pride since he had helped design both and watched them being built, from selecting the lumber to stepping the mast. Atlantic crossings and the southern trade including the islands had made the family rich. They had profited from loads of indentured people but never slaves. And, of course, they had smuggled from time to time - a Maryland tradition.

"Ah, well, you see my dear, owners get half of the prize court's award, and the captain and crew get the other half. Mr. Sterrett has more than a dozen now they say." Her father managed a small smile. "It's the only hope these days, more's the pity. Most of the prizes are taken into friendly, foreign ports. Our cured tobacco may pay for itself but little more. Many on the Shore are now growing corn, wheat and cattle, feeding the rebel army."