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H eeding Ramsey’s advice, Rose and Fonteyne quickly changed into shipboard clothing, happily casting aside the fancy garments for trousers.

Josiah was sorely disappointed to see them leave so soon, but when he saw Fonteyne in leather breeches, leather waistcoat, and tall black boots, his protests died in his throat.

They mounted the waiting horses and took a circuitous route back to the harbour to avoid any unwanted attention on the bustling main streets.

They appropriated a jolly boat tied to the wharf and rowed out to the Nighthawk , where quiet orders were issued to haul in the anchor and take her out of port.

As a precaution, the gun crews were called up on deck, but there was enough movement of boats and ships in the bay that they glided along the shoreline without any trouble.

It was only when they drew near the naval yard that several longboats filled with redcoats approached and warned them to keep their distance.

With the Nighthawk obligingly adjusting her course, Rose and Fonteyne stood in the stern and used long-glasses to confirm the number of ships and estimate the number of guns and firepower in the British fleet.

“Difficult to see the ships closer to shore,” Fonteyne observed. “But most of the big bastards are anchored in black water, suggesting there is more below the waterline than above.”

“If so, with a deep draught, they won’t be able to cross the delta and sail up the Mississippi.”

“Or sail close into to Barataria Bay. At low tide, the Black Wind scrapes her keel on some of the shoals.” He lowered his glass.

“Even so, it is a formidable display of power and purpose. If your brother was right, fifteen thousand soldiers is nothing to dismiss out of hand. It would help to know …” His voice trailed off but Rose’s ears had already perked to attention.

“Help to know where they are bound?”

“The base at Pensacola is the most logical landing place. The handful of Spaniards manning the fort would run at the first sight of a British flag, and fifteen thousand soldiers landing a stone’s throw from Louisiana would pose a serious threat.”

“I would think the American forces would want to know that.”

His eyes narrowed and he turned to look at her. “I’m sure they would.”

“We could follow them. With the ball planned for tomorrow night, we are at the very least two days ahead of the fleet departing New Providence. By the time we join up with our other two ships and send the Nighthawk on its way, we could easily shadow the fleet as it passes the tip of Florida.”

“You don’t think they would notice three ships following them?”

“Not three; perhaps just one. One light, fast ship that can stay far enough back in their wake as to not be seen.”

“The Cygnet , of course.”

“Of course. At the risk of repeating myself for the hundredth time, the Cygnet is not readily identifiable, not like the Black Wind or, heaven help us, the Pride . And we do sail under a Dutch flag. Even if they see us they will presume we are a merchant ship following close for protection against privateers and pirates.”

“Your brother seemed well apprised of your blockade-running feats and suggested your ship may not be as unknown as you believe.”

She thought about that for a moment before her frown cleared.

“Assuming the British fleet set sail from Portsmouth, it would have left England two months ago. Before that, it would have taken a month or more for any news of the Cygnet’s identity to travel from the blockade line back to London and the naval office.

Assuming Admiral Nicholls had set sail directly from Gibraltar following Napoleon’s surrender, he would still be two months behind any bully notes about the Cygnet . ”

Fonteyne considered pulling his hair out by the roots, but instead, reached to an inside pocket on his waistcoat and withdrew one of his hand-rolled cigars. He struck a sulphur match on the rail and studied Rose’s expression over the small flare of flame and the resultant cloud of smoke.

“Would it do any good to point out the dozen or so flaws in your proposition?” He held up his hand to stop her from answering and gave a deep chuckle. “No, I don’t suppose it would. But you will allow that some additional discussion on the matter might be warranted.”

She tried not to smile. “I am always open for discussion. If the outcome is reasonable and I agree with it.”

He was halfway through inhaling a lungful of cigar smoke when she said that and the resultant fit of coughing nearly had him falling over the rail.

A day later they were reunited with the other three ships.

After crews had been restored to their respective vessels, it was decided that the Nighthawk should return to the Nobbins and “rescue” Alexander St. Clare.

Before the last farewell huzzahs echoed across the water, Rose and Fonteyne had called their officers and gun captains to a meeting in the great cabin of the Black Wind .

There, they divided the shares from the successful disposing of the two revenue ships in Kell’s Bay, which would be distributed to the crews.

Fonteyne also shared the information they had learned about the soldiers and firepower on board the British fleet.

“We have no way of knowing for certain where they are bound once they leave New Providence,” he said. “Best guess is Pensacola, but Rose has suggested we follow them to make sure before we cross the Gulf.”

“In truth, I would like to find a way to blow them out of the water,” she muttered. “But I had a thought that we could lay off somewhere and keep watch, then follow them up the coast.”

“Ten warships versus three?” Penman shook his head. “Please tell me neither one of you is that mad.”

“At least one of us isn’t,” Fonteyne said, glancing sidelong at Rose.

“I have wrought what magic I can with the guns and rigging on board the Pride ,” Billy said, “and her maneuverability is much improved, but I would not trust her in a pitched battle, so we would only be able to count on two fighting ships.”

“Ho!” Stubb chimed in. “That be far better odds. Two ships against ten.”

Rose acknowledged Stubb’s sarcasm with a frown.

“One thought would be to send the Pride on ahead. I agree she would be fairly useless in a pitched battle, but she could carry a warning to Barataria, and in turn New Orleans. In truth, we have no way of knowing what has happened in the weeks we’ve been gone.

General Jackson may have already arrived with his army in New Orleans. ”

“He might also have been informed of the British fleet,” Fonteyne said, “and concluded, as we have, that the logical place for them to land would be Pensacola.”

“In which case he might march his army to Pensacola, leaving New Orleans undefended,” Rose said quietly.

“Unless, of course, Lafitte can be persuaded to throw his support to the Americans. Since I expect he would be none too happy to see me sailing into his bay again, you, Captain Fonteyne, would be best suited to sail on to Barataria while my crew and I stay back and follow the fleet.”

When that gave rise to a new wave of debates and arguments, Fonteyne stood and walked over to the gallery windows.

He ignored the voices behind him and stared out at the afternoon sunlight rippling over the surface of the water.

He had spent most of his life at sea, signing on as a powder boy when he was eight years old.

Twenty-four years later he was still awed by the power of the sea, by winds that could make the difference in a victory or a defeat in battle, by the loyalty of men who put their lives in his hands and never questioned his decisions.

He changed his focus to the reflections in the glass noting Archie Penman’s blond hair shining under the lamplight.

A doctor, an aristocrat, he could have spent his days tending wealthy women who were prone to fainting at the sight of any one of the little bugs or beetles he kept in jars in his cabin.

Beside him, Billy Burr, a woman with more knowledge of guns and cannon than any man on board the Wind , which was the highest praise he could think to give.

At the other end of the table sat the imposing blackness of Duardo next to Nathan Reed, Stubb, and Digby Fitch, as unlikely a foursome of men as ever broke bread at his table.

And next to them, Rose St. Clare, sprung from a dynasty that stretched back several generations, all of whom were born with wild adventures and seawater in their veins.

He turned and walked back to the long table and waited for the voices to fall silent.

“To be honest, I fail to see what more can be gained by following the fleet, so here is what I propose. Regardless where the fleet lands and where the army disembarks, it would seem to be more important to get well ahead of them to warn both Lafitte and Jackson and give them time to organize their defenses. I would suggest, then, that all three ships set a course for New Orleans, at whatever speed is deemed necessary. At the appropriate time, the Wind and the Pride , will break off and make sail for Barataria.”

For once, there was silence around the table with everyone watching the two captains. Fonteyne’s jaw was squared, obviously anticipating another verbal battle. Rose, for her part, took a deliberately slow sip of wine and set her glass carefully back down on the table.

It was Penman who cleared his throat and spoke first. “It sounds like a reasonable plan to me, er, not that my opinion counts farther than I can throw it.”

When no one contradicted him, he sank lower in his chair and kept his tongue firmly between his teeth.

Fonteyne looked directly at Rose, who now seemed intent on swirling the dregs of wine around the bottom of her glass.