Return to Redemption, Book Two

Chapter One

Moira Bronlee leaned back on her knees to wipe the sweat from her brow with a gloved hand. The sun was unusually hot that afternoon, and she relished the thought of a cool bath with a cup of tea. Wanting to finish planting the rose bushes first, she again began to dig with vigor in the clumps of soil surrounding the little, white church on the western shoreline of Portsmouth. She sang in a low voice to herself while she prodded and poked at the mounds of dry dirt, paying no mind to the rivulets of sweat coursing from beneath her hat. She had been the caretaker of the Church by the Sea for more years than she cared to count, and took great pride in the lovely flower beds that surrounded the quaint building. Hearing a cheerful voice calling out her name in greeting, she turned to see Rebecca Halloway strolling toward her. She smiled in delight, knowing Rebecca would offer a willing hand and welcome company.

Moira! Rebecca scolded lightly, You should have waited for me!

Moira glanced through an apologetic grimace at the young woman, and gave a leisurely stretch while turning to face her. I'm sorry, dear, I just couldn't wait to get my hands dirty. But not to worry...there's plenty here for the both of us to do.

Rebecca giggled at the cherubic expression which lingered on the old woman's face and knelt to join her, taking a spade from the bucket of garden tools resting nearby on the ground. She was wearing a pair of simple knee length slacks and a plain cotton tunic...her favorite and most comfortable attire of late. She had grown fond of the peculiar style of clothing while living aboard the Redemption, and found it to be extremely efficient when tooling about during the warm, summer days not so common in the coastal cities of England's western shores. She had fashioned several similar outfits for herself, much to the chagrin of her mother, who teased Rebecca relentlessly about drawing the attention of every seasoned spinster in town. The elderly women in the church frowned upon Rebecca disparagingly when she was dressed in anything other than a full length dress, but Rebecca didn't pay them any mind. She just smiled graciously and continued on her way, not about to concern herself with such petty criticisms. Rebecca had never been one prone to become anxious over trivial matters, but ever since she had been spared from a certain death by the grace and mercy of God, she refused even more vehemently to allow herself the time to fret over meaningless grievances, finding life much too precious to dwell on the mundane.

It had been nearly six months now since Rebecca had been returned, very near death, to her parents' home in Portsmouth, and not a day passed by without her thoughts drifting back to Captain Jameson, Eddy, and the petty officer, Mr. Andrews. Occasionally thoughts of Lieutenant Burgess crossed her mind, but she coaxed herself to linger only on the good things that had passed between them rather than the bad. She continued to pray for him daily, as well as for the rest of the crew she had grown so fond of, and while she was so very grateful to be home again and among her friends and family, she desperately missed her life aboard the Redemption, living among and ministering to the men she had come to love. Often times her guilt would overwhelm her, for she knew that God had spared her life from a grave injury, but in spite of the relative calm that had settled over her, she often found herself yearning for the excitement and adventure she had known while aboard the massive ship of war.

What thoughts are filling that lovely head of yours, dear? Moira asked, stirring Rebecca from her pensive musing. The old woman had been quick to notice the obvious change in Rebecca since she had returned home and recovered from her injury. A young woman had replaced the young girl Moira had known, and many times she found her lingering in a melancholy state of mind, almost as if longing for something unseen and unspoken of.

Oh, the usual, Moira, she sighed, a sheepish grin on her face.

Moira often wondered at what sort of hardships the girl had endured throughout her nineteen months at sea. Up until now she had only been told good and pleasant stories, but at times, when she caught glimpses of Rebecca's somber expressions, she wondered if there wasn't something more that she was withholding from them all. Are you thinking about your sea captain again? she teased, having heard the name of Captain William Jameson flit across the girl's lips on more than one occasion. Moira knew that talk of Rebecca's beloved commander was sure to bring a ready smile to her face.

Rebecca's faced blushed a bright, crimson hue as she nodded, her heart warmed at the thought of her dear captain. I miss them all so much, Moira, she sighed, and I know I will probably never see them again in this lifetime, but I do believe I would give most anything just to have one more day aboard the Redemption with them all...

A sweet sensitivity descended upon Moira's countenance as she once again thanked God for bringing the girl safely home, while she recalled the night the men had approached her, requesting her help in finding the home of Dr. Halloway. She had been unaware that the person they carried on the stark, wooden board was Rebecca, and simply assumed that it was an unfortunate sailor who had suffered a terrible mishap.

As if reading her thoughts, Rebecca said with a pleading voice, Please, Moira, tell me again of the night I came home.

The old woman laughed with an infectious spontaneity, and Rebecca soon joined her in her mirth. "Why don't I just write it down for you, dear...then you can read it any time you'd like. We'll call it 'Rebecca's Redemption'."

Oh no, Moira, she explained. That would never be as wonderful as hearing you tell it.

Moira shook her head in mock consternation at the girl's winsome manner and knew she had never been able to refuse the girl of any request she made, so she began once more to recant the tale of that fateful night, while Rebecca listened with rapt attention, a faraway look descending upon her features.

* * *

Captain Jameson remained in his stateroom for most of the day, restless and agitated due to the Redemption's impending arrival in Portsmouth. He rang his steward for a cup of hot tea and moved to a chair after taking the worn, leather bible Rebecca had given him from its place above his bed. He opened it to the book of Psalms and began to read, partially out of spite and partially out of wanton desperation.

Hear my voice when I call O Lord; be merciful to me and answer me.

What kind of mercy, he wondered, would allow the senseless death of a young, vibrant girl like Rebecca, especially one so determined to see to the salvation of the lost? Captain Jameson had struggled with feelings of resentment toward God since she had been taken from them, and he had felt little inclination to pray for understanding after her subsequent death. When he lost Rebecca, he lost all hope, and it felt as if the presence of God had departed that night right along with her. How he wished Rebecca was there now to explain things to him, for she had always possessed such a confident understanding of matters pertaining to the scriptures. He thought about her relentlessly, and clung fast to the promise in the New Testament that the dead would one day be reunited in Christ. Glancing back to the worn pages, he continued on with the next verse.

My heart says to you 'Seek his face!' Your face, Lord, I will seek.

With a heavy sigh he realized that he was thinking of the girl once again, after having tried so many times before to distract his mind with other, less painful matters. A wry grin crossed his face when he realized that Rebecca was not easily forgotten, even in death. His men rarely mentioned the girl's name in his presence, and for that he was grateful, for in his heart the profound sorrow that lingered was a vast darkness that threatened to engulf him, and the scars left behind still raw and festering.

Captain Jameson stood and moved to the window to gaze out at the shores of Portsmouth in the distance, and he recalled with a solemn countenance the night they had returned to this very place to deliver Rebecca to the home of her mother and father. As she lay near death, his heart was breaking with a despair such as he had never known, and he wanted only to lie down and die beside her. Instead, he didn't even say goodbye, he just turned and left. The men who had traveled ashore with him were silent for the remainder of their voyage back to the Redemption, and never spoke of the incident after that night. The frigate sailed out of the harbor the moment they'd arrived back on board, and even though it had been six long months, it may just as well have been yesterday. Now they were sailing back to England, making an unexpected trip to secure an escort to lead them into the heart of France and into the midst of enemy territory, with the hopes of recovering several of the Redemption's crew taken prisoner by the French army. Having so recently been in Portsmouth under such heartbreaking circumstances, he feared his emotional scars, not yet healed, would again be torn apart, rendering him helpless to avoid the emotional upheaval that was sure to follow. Realizing that his men needed his strategic abilities to be unencumbered by distraction, he diverted his despair into anger and hurled the bible he held in his hands against the wall, cursing forcefully at the fates that the Lord had chosen not to spare him from.

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Pete Jones lounged in the crew's quarters with Petty Officer Andrews, their bellies full after devouring the evening meal. The two men had forged an immediate bond after their return from delivering Rebecca to Portsmouth, and they found comfort with one another in the midst of their grief at her passing. They spoke of her with incessant adulation, and laughed often at the memories she had imparted to them. Neither of them had expected to be returning to Portsmouth so soon, and now, as the frigate neared the city, they began to make plans in the hopes of paying a visit to Dr. and Mrs. Halloway, with the hopes of sharing some of their recollections of their beloved Rebecca with them.

Paul Burgess and James Edwards sipped hot tea in the officers' quarters, chatting amicably among themselves.

Will you be going ashore in Portsmouth? Lieutenant Edwards inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Yes, James, Lieutenant Burgess answered indifferently. Why would you presume I wouldn't?

No reason, he assured, I was simply inquiring.

Paul Burgess knew what it was that his friend hinted at, and he was shamed at having responded so casually. He continued to carry the burden of Rebecca Halloway's death upon his shoulders, knowing that only his own death would relieve him of the culpability. He did indeed have plans to visit the city, and hoped to locate her final resting place in an attempt to seek some much needed solace.

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Dr. Ammons paced about in the sick berth, rummaging through cupboards and taking a mental inventory of the tinctures he had on hand. Portsmouth, he knew, would provide an assortment of supplies should he have need of anything. Thoughts of Rebecca sprang unexpectedly to mind, and he smiled to himself when he recalled Rebecca's first visit to his sick berth. How he wished she had never crossed their path, for in his heart he knew at least then the girl might still be alive. He wondered what thoughts were filling Captain Jameson's mind as the frigate neared the town where they had taken her, for he was certain she must have died before they had even returned to the Redemption. He shook his head in resignation, as if that would force the dark thoughts from his mind, and began to walk towards the captain's berth to pay him a visit.

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Captain Jameson remained lost in thought, staring out into the darkness through the large window in his stateroom. Hearing the knock at his door he called, Come!

He cast a curious glance over his shoulder to see who would be calling on him at this hour of the evening, and was relieved to find that it was only his friend and fellow officer. Dr. Ammons, I would have thought you'd be preparing for your shore leave.

There's not much I have need of this trip, Will. Do you plan on going ashore?

Captain Jameson was somewhat taken aback by the doctor's casual manner of address, but he knew the question was prompted more in a manner of concerned camaraderie rather than careless insolence. I intend only to go ashore so as to secure a liaison for our assignment, Dr. Ammons, he replied, a stoic look upon his face. Aside from that, I plan to remain aboard the Redemption. He continued to gaze out the window, hesitant to reveal the pained expression which shadowed his features.

I'll need a Whist partner if you should happen to change your mind, Dr. Ammons offered, not wanting pursue the matter further.

Yes, Captain Jameson replied, I'll keep that in mind.

Dr. Ammons left the captain to his melancholy thoughts, and returned to his quarters after bidding him a solemn goodnight. He sat, waiting for the darkness of the room to engulf him and shield him from the sorrow that threatened to surface once again. It had taken a long time before he was able to will thoughts of Rebecca from his mind, and now that the memories were being rekindled by the frigate's unexpected return to Portsmouth, he feared he would lose all control of his emotional reserve. Perhaps a visit to her parents' home would give him a sense of closure, and allow for the healing that had eluded him these past several months. Resting his head back against the wall, he wondered if Portsmouth could bring him the solace he so desperately needed.

Chapter Two

The Redemption sailed into the seaside city of Portsmouth on a Friday in the early afternoon. The deck was filled with commotion as the men hurried to secure the frigate, while Captain Jameson watched on from the quarterdeck. Lieutenant Burgess stood nearby observing the activity but making no move to disembark.

Do you plan on going ashore today, Mr. Burgess, or will you wait until tomorrow?

I'll be going ashore both days, Captain, he replied. I have some personal business I hope to attend to.

Captain Jameson nodded, and again turned to watch the approaching shoreline. He kept his gaze averted from the little Church by the Sea, and wanted only to return below to the seclusion of his quarters.

Lieutenant Edwards approached the men from the rear and moved to stand next to Lieutenant Burgess. The frigate is secured, sir, he said to Captain Jameson, giving him a smart salute.

Very well, gentlemen, you are free to disembark.

The two young officers watched in surprise as Captain Jameson turned on his heel and retreated below to his cabin. They studied his weary stance in silence for a moment, wondering if they should follow after him, but instead they continued to gaze at the empty corridor long after he had disappeared into the safety of his berth.

Shall we go then? Lieutenant Edwards finally asked, turning his attention back to Lieutenant Burgess.

Might I meet you ashore later, James? I have another matter I must attend to first.

Yes, of course. I'll meet up with you at the officers' club for dinner, shall we say...six o'clock?

Lieutenant Burgess gave a quick nod and returned to his quarters to wait until the rest of the crew had disembarked. He wished to travel ashore alone, away from the prying glances of the men. None knew of his plans to visit the burial place of Rebecca Halloway, and he intended to keep his activities while in Portsmouth to himself.

Pete Jones and Mr. Andrews whooped with delight at finding a seat on the first dinghy taking men ashore. They were eager to begin their day, having not seen land for more than three months. The little dinghy bobbed across the waves, setting a course for shore, when the little white church building came into view. Both men gazed upon its charming simplicity without speaking, each struggling with a sudden and unquenchable ache of loneliness, in spite of the men who surrounded them. They lingered in a pensive disquiet until they heard the sand of the shoreline scrape against the bottom of the skiff, and then remained in the belly of the dinghy until the others had disembarked. Only then did they step with heavy hearts onto the dry land, and began to move toward the Church by the Sea.

Dr. Ammons waited in the sick berth until the deck of the frigate had quieted down some. Before leaving the solitude of the cabin, he gazed around the room in the hopes of finding something that he could take with him to the home of Rebecca's parents, with the intention of sharing with the Halloways all that their daughter had meant to the men who served aboard the Redemption. With a sudden start he realized that there was nothing that would either prove or disprove that Rebecca had ever been aboard the ship, save for the memories that never lingered far in the minds of those who knew her. A heavy sigh escaped him as he turned to leave, wondering how someone's absence could be so profoundly mourned when no tangible evidence suggested their ever being there. With a grimace of despair he left the room, and soon found himself on a dinghy bound for shore, and he struggled to quell the emotions that threatened to overcome him.

* * *

Ugh! Rebecca groaned. I look like an earthworm with all this dirt sticking to me!

Moira glanced up just in time to see Rebecca's grimace of disgust, and a hearty laugh erupted when she caught sight of the girl. She was covered from the top of her head to the tips of her toes with a thick layer of dust, save for the areas where sweat had trickled from her brow down the side of her face and neck, creating a sticky trail of mud. Oh, don't worry, dear...you make a lovely earthworm! Moira teased.

Rebecca stood to her feet and grinned. No earthworm today, Moira, she laughed. Today I just want to be Rebecca.

She marched down to the water's edge and waded in until the cool water rose to her knees. She was tempted to keep right on walking, knowing that only a brisk swim would dispel the heat of the day, but instead she bent to scrub just her arms and face so she could return to help Moira finish the planting. Gazing out over the waves, she saw a large frigate negotiating a path through the harbor and into port, and she felt an instant pang of longing for the Redemption and her crew. She sighed and shook her head, hoping to clear her thoughts before turning to wade back toward shore. She was surprised to see Moira standing to her feet, her face contorted by a scowl of discomfort.

I think we can leave what's left until tomorrow, dear. My old knees won't hold me up any longer.

I can finish this, Moira, Rebecca replied. I haven't got anything else planned for the afternoon.

No, no...we'll do it together tomorrow. It's not often I get you all to myself. You go on home and draw a cool bath. You've worked hard enough for one day.

Rebecca tried to argue with the woman, but to no avail. She shrugged her shoulders in resignation and embraced her dear friend, planting a damp kiss on the wrinkled, old cheek.

Moira leaned against a weathered fence post and watched Rebecca leave. A cool breeze was picking up and she took several moments to let it caress her face with its salty fingers. She moved to the shade of a large maple tree and sank to the ground, thinking it would be much more comfortable outside at this hour than it would be in her stuffy little cottage. Closing her eyes against the bright, afternoon sunlight which glinted through the branches, a subtle sigh of contentment arose at the thought of a lazy, summer day well spent.

* * *

Lieutenant Burgess stood on the deck of the Redemption watching the activities at the edge of the city. He was preparing to go ashore and was waiting for the dinghy that would make an eventual return to the frigate to pick up any remaining stragglers. A young woman off in the distance caught his eye, and he watched as she stepped into the waves to splash cool water over her arms and face, no doubt hoping to get a moment's relief from the blistering sun, he thought. A wave of guilt overwhelmed him with unexpected force, as thoughts of Rebecca lying near death flashed through his mind. With vivid clarity he recalled the events as they unfolded on the night of the accident, and visions of the young woman's listless body falling to the deck sprang without warning to his mind. He could see the vibrant, crimson hue of the blood that stained the deck beneath her, and he cringed when he remembered the look of terror in her eyes when he had approached her to see if she was alright.

You there, sir...are you wanting to go ashore?

Lieutenant Burgess was startled out of his tortured thoughts by an unfamiliar voice that broke through the stillness that surrounded him, and he glanced down into the face of a young boy bobbing about on the waves in a small dinghy. Yes, thank-you, he stammered, making an effort to dispel the horrific images rampaging through his mind.

He lowered himself onto the rope ladder and descended with careful steps down into the little skiff. The trip to shore took just a few moments, and Lieutenant Burgess was determined to keep his gaze averted from the little, white church building that had been so much a part of Rebecca's life. But for as much as it pained him to look at it, he knew it was there that he would find the grave which held her, and so when the dinghy slid to a rough stop onto the sands of the shoreline, he was quick to disembark, keeping his emotional turmoil and his woeful expression to himself. He clambered several paces up a rocky path before turning onto the road that he knew would lead him to the Church by the Sea, and he began to walk with slow, deliberate steps, unsure of who, or what, he would find there.

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Pete Jones and Petty Officer Andrews arrived at the Church by the Sea and were relieved to find the door to the little building open. Not seeing anyone about, they stepped inside, grateful for the cool, quiet seclusion that greeted them. They took a seat in the rear of the chapel, and reclined in a pensive calm, their eyes wandering over every part of the building in a desperate attempt to bring images of Rebecca to life. The petty officer stood to his feet and moved to the front, where he approached a dark, mahogany piano, its ivory keys beckoning to be played. In his mind he imagined Rebecca sitting there, and he ran his hand with tender affection over the length of it. Pete Jones watched on in silence, his own grief turning inward.

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Paul Burgess approached the house of worship along the south side of the structure, expecting to find the cemetery nestled in the lush foliage behind the modest building. He wandered through green grass, savoring the feel of solid ground beneath his feet, for it helped to steady the apprehensive trembling of his legs. Seeing the granite tombstones of the burial grounds near the stone wall surrounding the church, he turned to meander through a freshly dug flower bed, hoping to find a more direct path that would lead him to where he needed to go. He approached the graveyard with a hesitant breath, feeling emotions that he had been so diligent to suppress for the past six months suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. Pausing at the white picket gate, he glanced around in trepidation, while he made an effort to quiet the pounding of his heart. With a startled gasp of surprise, he heard a cheerful voice break through the oppressive air that surrounded him.

May I help you, dear?

Moira had been cooling herself beneath the shade of the maple tree when she saw the smartly dressed sailor approach from afar. Thinking he was just a solitary soul out for a stroll, she was hesitant to leave the comfort of the shade to speak with him, but as she continued to observe him, it became clear to her that he was searching for someone, or something.

Paul Burgess was dismayed by the unannounced stranger who approached from behind, for he was certain he had been alone. He spun around to discover who it was that spoke, only to find a kindly, old face peering up at him.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, dear. I should have made my presence known before I snuck up behind you. Is there someone in particular you're searching for?'

Moira gazed at the man standing before her with a sweet smile splayed across her features. She was acquainted with all who were buried in the cemetery that adorned the Church by the Sea, and took it upon herself to see that they were as well taken care of in death as they had been in life.

Lieutenant Burgess cleared his throat, his heart still thumping erratically in his chest. Well, perhaps since you're here, I was hoping to find the resting place of Rebecca Halloway. Would you be so kind as to point it out to me?

Moira was startled by the request and stared back at the handsome young man through an expression of bewildered intrigue, while he fixed his eyes on her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Well! She doesn't lie here to rest, thank the Lord, Moira chortled, certain the man must be speaking in jest.

A weary shadow of disappointment darkened Mr. Burgess' countenance and he glanced away, hoping to excuse himself without further explanation. I'm sorry to have troubled you then, but thank you for your time, he said, turning to leave.

Moira stared after his retreating form with a piqued curiosity, and wondered at the odd nature of this young man. Wait! she called, her inquisitiveness getting the better of her. I can show you where she does lie to rest...

The officer turned back to glance at the old woman. I'm afraid that would be asking too much, he said with a shake of his head. I wouldn't want to trouble you.

Oh, I don't mind at all, she assured him. I should be getting home now anyway...I've lazed about long enough for one day.

Paul Burgess waited on the path until she caught up with him, and then stepped aside to allow her to pass to the front. He followed behind her without speaking until they strolled onto the main road. Moira fell into step beside the handsome, young officer and began to pepper him with questions.

Where are you from, dear?

Lieutenant Burgess glanced at the old woman and said, I'm from Bristol.

Born and raised there, are you?

Yes, ma'am.

Is your family still living there?

Only my mother, he answered. My father passed on some time ago.

Oh...I'm sorry to hear that, she murmured, clucking her tongue in sympathy.

Mr. Burgess kept his eyes fixed on the tree line in the distance, but gave a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement of her expression of sympathy.

You're a naval officer, aren't you? Moira continued.

Yes, yes I am.

Oh, lovely... Moira continued, wishing the young man wouldn't be so stingy with his answers.

What brings you to Portsmouth? she asked, intent on uncovering what intentions he had for Rebecca.

I regret to say that I'm just here to attend to business matters, he replied. My duties give me little time to enjoy your fair city.

Are you here with your ship then?

Mr. Burgess gave a curt nod, but had no desire to elaborate further.

Well what ship do you serve on, if you don't mind my asking?

Lieutenant Burgess glanced down at Moira then through a scowl of exasperated surprise, for most women were seldom so persistent in pursuing such trivial information and he was growing weary of her endless queries.

"The Redemption," he said, while he continued to study her, finding himself unexpectedly charmed by her curious nature.

Moira was quick to turn her face away lest he catch a glimpse of the grimace of surprise that sprang to her face. The Redemption was a name she knew well, and she was certain that Rebecca was not expecting this visit. She grew quiet then, and contemplated what to do next. It was obvious to her that the young man believed Rebecca had died six months ago, but she knew that was to be expected. Rebecca had been frightfully near death when the men from the Redemption had delivered her to Portsmouth, and none had expected her to survive the night...none save for her father and mother that is. She doubted this young man posed any threat to Rebecca, and so she decided perhaps she would entertain herself with the peculiar situation.

Paul Burgess became aware of the woman's sudden silence, and wondered if he had said something to offend her. In his discomfort, he cleared his throat, almost as if to remind her of his presence.

Moira turned to offer the young man her most gracious smile and continued walking. When they neared the Halloway residence, Lieutenant Burgess began to recognize the familiar landmarks and his stomach clenched in nervous apprehension when he realized that Rebecca must have been laid to rest near her family home. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to proceed any further lest he come face to face with her mother and father.

Well come on then, dear, Moira urged, wondering why the officer had slowed his pace. We're almost there now.

The two continued on for a few moments more before Moira stopped to point out the little cottage nestled among the trees. Rebecca Halloway lies to rest there, she said with a confident air before turning with a quick step to leave.

Wait! Mr. Burgess called. Where are you going?

Home, she smiled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. I hope you find what you're looking for, dear.

Rebecca had returned to the Halloway cottage as Moira had instructed, and set about drawing herself a cool bath, where she scrubbed at the sticky dirt which still clung to her body until she was pink and glowing. Feeling much refreshed, she slipped into a light cotton sundress and began to prepare the table for dinner. Her mother and father had gone to Elms Grove for the day, to visit homebound parishioners, but she expected them to arrive home in time to gather for the evening meal. After setting everything in place, she slipped outside to relax on the porch swing for a bit, hoping to resume reading her book where she had last left off. She burrowed down into the soft feather pillows, while keeping one leg out to rock herself in a lazy fashion back and forth.

Lieutenant Burgess remained where Moira had left him, unsure of what the old woman meant by the words she had spoken, and wondering what to do next. Glancing back at the humble little cottage, he saw that it appeared to be quiet, and unattended by either of the Halloways. Surely, he thought, no one would mind if he walked around a bit until he found where it was that Rebecca was buried. He determined he would leave no trace of his coming or his going, and would depart just as soon as he had paid his last respects.

Stepping out from behind a large sycamore tree, he began to move toward the house. A soft breeze was whispering through the garden, carrying the fragrance of freshly plucked roses, and he relished the respite from the pungent scent of sea air while he continued along the stone hedged pathway to the cottage. When he approached the brook that meandered through the courtyard, he stopped to glance about for a place to cross. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a porch swing swaying to and fro, and he was taken aback when he realized that someone was lying on it. He hurried to slip into the enveloping shelter of the trees lest he be seen, while he tried to determine whether or not to continue on his way. Peering through the shadows at the person who lay there, he tried to catch sight of who it might be.

Rebecca yawned, sleepy contentment washing over her beneath the warmth of the afternoon sun. She nestled the book on her lap for a moment while she contemplated closing her eyes for a quick nap. She knew her mother and father would soon be home, and she did not want them to find her dozing when dinner still needed to be prepared, so rather than give in to her wanton craving for sleep, she crawled from her cozy nest and stood to stretch some life back into her limbs.

A sharp, indrawn breath was audible when Lieutenant Burgess at last caught a glimpse of the girl who rose from the swing. The blood drained from his face, leaving it a sickly, pale color, and he stood rooted in place, his eyes widened in shocked disbelief. A thousand thoughts swirled through his mind, and for an instant he felt as if he would retch. He sank to his knees in an effort to quell the nausea stirring in his belly, and concentrated his thoughts on slowing his breathing. Glancing back to where Rebecca stood, he held his breath, hoping he was still hidden from sight. He knew without a doubt that he could not face the girl alone, especially in the current state he was in. He waited and watched until she wandered into the cottage before he stood once again to his feet, and when the opportunity for escape presented itself, he crept without a sound from the shelter of the foliage, all the while keeping an eye trained on the house to make sure the girl did not reappear. Once in the clearing of the road, he turned and hurried back toward Portsmouth, unsure of where to go or what to do.

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Pete Jones and Petty Officer Andrews remained in the little church late into the afternoon, both of them sensing Rebecca's presence in the quiet and cool surroundings. They sat side by side, recalling the memories of their time with her aboard the Redemption, and would have stayed there all night had not a voice startled them to their senses.

Oh dear, I didn't expect to find anyone in here! Moira exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

She had returned to the Church by the Sea after leaving Lieutenant Burgess at the Halloway home, intent on locking up the building for the night before going home.

Mr. Andrews jumped to his feet. I'm sorry, Miss! We were just visiting for a bit...I hope that's alright?

Of course it is, Moira assured them. Would you like a little more time?

The men cast nervous glances at one another. No, thank you, we really should be going. I apologize for troubling you, Mr. Andrews said.

The men turned to leave while Moira watched, perplexed by the odd happenings of the day.

Excuse me, Ma'am, Pete Jones said, spinning on his heel to face her. Would you be so kind as to point us in the direction of the Halloway home? We'd like to pay him and his wife a visit this evening.

Moira gave them both a gracious smile, suddenly aware of the nature of their visit. It was obvious to her that Rebecca had left quite an impression on this crew from the Redemption. Yes, I could point you to where Dr. Halloway lives, but please, allow me to take you there myself. Moira found she was rather enjoying this mischievous game, and wanted to see for herself Rebecca's expression when two more of her friends showed up unexpectedly on her doorstep.

The two men peered down at her with grand expressions of gratitude, bewildered by the old woman's kindness.

Come on then, she smiled, leading them through the door. She determined she would leave the little church building unlocked for a time, in case any of the other men from the Redemption should seek solace in the chapel this night.

Rebecca set about cutting up an assortment of fresh vegetables she had picked from the garden earlier in the day when thoughts of Moira suddenly came to mind, and she wished she had thought to invite her to dinner this evening. Her parents were fond of the old woman, and would have enjoyed her company. Glancing out the window to see if her mother and father were in sight yet, she took off the bright paisley apron she wore to dash back to Moira's house, hoping it wasn't too late to coax her to join them. She knew there were several frigates moored in the harbor, so as a precautionary measure she took the path that led her along the outskirts of town, in the hopes of avoiding the throngs of men that were sure to be gathering in the streets for an evening of boisterous celebrating.

She was breathless when she arrived at the home of Moira Bronlee, and knocked just once before thrusting her head inside the door to call out, Moira! Hearing no response, she wandered around the outside of the humble, little dwelling, stopping more than once to poke her nose into the fragrant roses growing in lavender hedges around Moira's cottage. How she longed to bring life from little seedlings like Moira had such a talent for doing, but unfortunately she had not been blessed with a green thumb like her dear friend had been. Seeing the old woman was nowhere to be found, she gave a quick sigh of resignation and hurried towards the path she had come on, hoping to make it back before her parents returned to an empty cottage.

Moira, and the two men in tow, arrived at the Halloway home, only to find it empty. The men cast their glances down in weary disappointment, but Moira, ever quick to notice, spoke up in a cheerful tone.

Not to worry gentlemen, they haven't gone far, and they will return soon. You would be more than welcome to wait for them here, or you could return later this evening. I know they would be grateful for the opportunity to visit with you.

Again, the two men glanced at one another before speaking. If you're sure it'd be alright, perhaps we'll return later, the petty officer said.

Of course, Moira replied. If I should see them before then, I will be sure to tell them you stopped by.

The men nodded their indebted appreciation and returned to the road they had traveled on earlier. Moira stayed behind, wanting to see if Rebecca was dillydallying in the trees behind the house. The girl just couldn't resist the gentle prodding of nature, and she was seldom found indoors in the summertime, much to the chagrin of her mother. Rebecca! the old woman called, circling around to the back of the house.

She glanced in the window of the cottage and caught sight of Rebecca's apron tossed haphazardly across the kitchen table and a pile of uncut vegetables on the counter. Clucking her tongue in mock disdain, she traipsed inside, certain the girl would be back before too much time had passed.

Rebecca returned home the way she had come and hurried inside to finish what she'd begun. Sitting at the dining table was Moira, sipping on a cup of tea and chopping the vegetables she had left behind earlier.

Moira! Rebecca exclaimed, I've been looking all over for you!

And I for you, young lady, Moira said. Just where have you been?

I've been here all afternoon.

And no one came by? the old woman asked.

No, Rebecca replied with a quizzical grin on her face. Should I have been expecting someone?

Well, a handsomely dressed young man came looking for you at the church earlier. And just a few moments ago I brought two other gentlemen by who were hoping to visit with your parents. Do you have any idea who they might be? she queried.

Well, if it was a gentleman as you say, he asked for the wrong Rebecca! she teased, knowing all of the local men had long given up on courting her.

Oh no, dear, she assured. "It was you he asked for."

Rebecca stood staring at the woman without speaking, intrigued as to who might be calling on her, for she had been diligent to dispel any male suitor who happened to show an interest in her. After several moments of puzzled silence from Rebecca, Moira realized that the girl truly had no idea that the Redemption had sailed into port, and would by no means make that assumption even if given the whole afternoon to do so.

Rebecca, she began in a soft voice, It was your sea captain that came looking for you.

A surge of laughter bubbled from Rebecca and her bright eyes twinkled. No, Moira, she assured. I'm afraid my sea captain is not a young man any more. Handsome, yes, but young, no. She continued to giggle at the thought of Captain Jameson calling on her in such a fashion, when she paused for a moment to glance again at Moira. Who did he say he was, Moira?

They gave me no names, dear, but the young man I spoke with said he was from the Redemption. I do believe that your ship is in Portsmouth, love.

Rebecca's mouth dropped open in a startled disbelief as she slid down onto a chair. What did he look like? she finally sputtered.

He had ebony eyes that lit up when he smiled, and dark hair pulled back beneath his hat, and he was tall...and handsome, Moira gushed, as if enthralled by the man still.

Lieutenant Burgess? Rebecca whispered, a perplexed grimace of confusion etched on her features. The man despised me, Moira...she continued. It most certainly wouldn't have been him.

"Well whoever it was, dear, he is searching for you."

Rebecca remained seated in the chair in an utter state of shock. The Redemption...in Portsmouth, she thought. How could it be? And where was Captain Jameson? The thoughts that filled her mind were too numerous to comprehend, and she gazed about the room while Moira studied the girl through a smug grin.

.

Dr. Ammons had meandered about town gathering the assorted provisions that Captain Jameson had requested, as well as the tinctures and liniments which needed to be replenished in the sick berth. He had every intention of calling on the Halloways sometime after the dinner hour so as not to disturb them, or even worse, cause them to feel obligated to invite him to dine with them, however, feeling a bit tired, he decided to pay them a quick visit before the evening meal and then excuse himself to the Redemption in order to retire for the evening. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and being surrounded by the boisterous men celebrating their night of shore leave left him feeling a bit overwhelmed. He had mapped the route to Rebecca's home in his mind, and was confident that he would be able to recall it when the need arose. That time was now he