Page 42 of Echo in the Wind

“And the men would enjoy an evening in port, Capitaine.”

“I have no objection. We need only enough men for a harbor watch to guard the ship.”

“I will see to it. And, if ye agree, I would propose to load the ship tomorrow.”

Jean nodded. “Très bien, as long as those ashore tonight return by morning.”

“Any special orders for Cook for provisions?”

Jean reflected on the foods he favored from St. Peter Port. “A few. Along with our usual supplies, see that Cook takes on a good supply of honey and some cream and cheese. After a fortnight of English bread, some pastries and brioche from the pâtisserie on High Street would be welcome, too.” He thought for a moment, then added, “And some of those sausages from Philippe’s boucherie, I think. Enough for all the men.”

Émile rubbed his belly. “Ye’re making me hungry, Capitaine. What shall I tell the men ye want from the warehouse tomorrow? Anything besides the brandy, tea and lace ye promised the agent in London?”

Jean tried to remember all that was stored in his warehouse on Guernsey. He was constantly adding to it. Thinking of his recent acquisitions, his mind settled on an idea. “As I recall, the warehouse contains several lengths of silk from our last trip to Paris.”

Émile crossed his arms and nodded. “C’est vrai.”

“Parfait. Make certain the crew fetches the vermilion brocade and a few other lengths of silk. I have a notion our customer in Bognor would be pleased to have some.”

“Oui, Capitaine. I shall see it added to the order.” He winked. “Silk and lace often go together, non?”

“In this case, the silk will be a gift, a test of sorts.”

“Capitaine?” Émile’s furrowed brow bespoke his confusion. “Ye would give away that silk? Why, ’tis a quality even Marie Antoinette would covet.”

“I have a reason, mon ami.”

“Très bien, I will instruct the men.”

Once M’sieur Ricard had adroitly navigated the granite rocks and islets around Guernsey, Jean concentrated on their approach to the harbor.

Sailing into St. Peter Port presented its challenges. Shifting tides and changeable winds meant he must give the ship and her sails his constant attention. He knew the familiar charts well and was pleased they would have a strong northeast wind to aid them.

His crew, familiar with the island’s proclivities, quickly moved to comply with his orders. Soon, they sailed into the harbor and the ship drifted slowly to her moorings.

His spirits lifted as they always did when la Reine Noire was tied up to the solid granite of the north pier, busy this afternoon with several ships. The faces of his men and their easy joking spoke of their eagerness for an evening ashore on the island.

An hour later, Jean and his quartermaster walked along the quay, enjoying the warm evening as they headed into town toward Lidstone’s Hotel.

A fine meal followed, consisting of soupe à la reine, roast veal spiced with sage and thyme, fried potatoes in sherry sauce and a ragoût of French beans. Jean was just licking the last of the sherry sauce from his lips when Émile suggested a glass of brandy at the Crown & Anchor.

“Excellente idée,” said Jean. “After that meal, a walk appeals.”

They left the hotel and strolled along the cobblestone street on their way to the tavern.

The setting sun peeked out between clouds to light the evening sky with a golden glow, shimmering in the waters of the harbor.

On the other side of the harbor, the dark hulk of Castle Cornet loomed against the golden sky. The landmark sat atop a rocky islet off Guernsey’s coast. The castle, a granite fort that had guarded the harbor for five centuries, had long been a prison.

Jean stepped through the door of the Crown & Anchor followed by his quartermaster. The large tavern was crowded this night, noisy and smoke-filled. Every table was filled. Several of the crew of la Reine Noire were among those drinking ale.

Slurred shouts of “Capitaine!” rose from throats that obviously had been imbibing for some time.

Jean waved to them and looked about, hoping to find a place he and Émile could sit by themselves. Because of the great volume of French wine and brandy flowing though Guernsey, he did not doubt there would be a fine cognac to be had.

Wending his way through the wooden tables, heading toward the back of the tavern, a serving girl waved to him from a table off to one side.

He obliged her with a gesture of his head and strode in that direction. As he drew close, he saw she had a head of copper-colored curls and beautiful green eyes.