Scarborough Fair Read Free Page A

obstacle.
    The Deux Soldats was little more than a farmhouse, so close to the road its walls were spattered with dried mud from rushing wheels. Yellow rectangles of light cast into the night from the inn were a pleasing sight, and Jones was grateful to stretch his legs when he dismounted in the courtyard. Inside, there were few customers, the landlord quickly fetching a carafe of wine. The captain shrugged off his cloak as the innkeeper’s wife brought bread and cheese before retreating to make up two beds for her unexpected guests.
    â€œGod knows when we shall reach Le Havre ,” Jones wondered aloud, excitement over the waiting ship dulled by fatigue. He noted wryly Dale’s appetite had been little blunted by travel as the young man broke bread before even sipping at his wine.
    â€œThe coachman said tomorrow afternoon, sir,” the midshipman offered before reapplying attention to his supper.
    â€œSooner the better. I’d trade one day’s ride in that infernal coach for ten Atlantic crossings.”
    Dale grinned. “I would agree with you there, sir.”
    Jones raised a smile. “Have you made many crossings? Your uniform appears to have.”
    Dale glanced down at the abused cloth with distaste. “I have not had either the opportunity or the finances to replace it, sir. With all the confusion of the war I am owed many months’ wages. It is all I can do to live.”
    â€œA common enough complaint,” the captain conceded, wondering why Dale had not been paid if he was attached to the American Commissioners in Paris . “Tell me about your war.”
    â€œWhen the fighting began, sir, I was on the side of the Loyalists.” He paused, examining Paul Jones’s face, offering as an excuse, “I was born in Virginia .” He fingered his hair, drawing a new parting to show a long scar running arrow straight across his scalp. “A Yankee musket ball did that, sir, on the Rappahannock River . A marine shot at me from a cutter. When I woke up we had escaped, but were later captured by the US brig Lexington .”
    â€œCommanded by John Barrie?” Jones queried.
    Dale’s eyes flickered to the older man. “Yes sir, and a finer officer, if you’ll beg my pardon, I’ve yet to meet. He talked with me often. On his advice I joined his crew as midshipman. Later, Lexington was taken over by Henry Johnson. Last year we crossed the Atlantic to cruise around the British Isles , but when we turned for home we ran into a fight and Lexington was taken. Along with the other officers I was sent to Mill Prison at Portsmouth .”
    Jones nodded. “I have heard of it.”
    Dale smiled, eyes belying the merriment of his mouth. “I had heard of it too, sir, but nothing I heard prepared me for it. The stench of so many men thrown together and herded like pigs, rotting in their own filth. Even pigs would have turned up their noses at the swill we were fed. Shipboard vittles, salt beef with maggots and rotten hardtack with weevils would have been a gourmet’s delight after the slops at the Mill.” His voice trailed away while Jones noted the relish with which Dale contemplated the plain bread and cheese on the table.
    â€œYou were set free?”
    Dale sighed. “I escaped. A whisper, a bribe, and one night the turnkey stood with his back to me for a few seconds longer than he should. I kept away from the port, knowing they’d expect me to try for a ship to France , but after two weeks of near starvation I was caught stealing bread.” He lifted the crust from his plate for emphasis. “When they took me back I went into the Black Hole. Evil it was. I’m a man used to wide-open spaces and a broad blue sky or a tower of billowing canvas, snowy in the sunlight. Salt spray on my cheeks and the humming of the wind in the rigging. Sunlight. A simple thing we take for granted. The Black Hole was the only name for it. Not a spark of