Day of Honor 01_ Ancient Blood - Diane Carey [91]
He truly meant nothing but to voice his admiration for the action he saw on board the Justina, but Patrick O’Heyne noted something else about those words, and about all these strangers in the room.
O’Heyne blinked around at the disguised seamen, then finally back around to Sandy, then back to Picard. “Sir … how come you to be here? And how do you know Jeremiah?”
“Patrick,” Jeremiah uttered. “Please … things are somewhat complicated this morning.”
Brushing his tousled red hair out of his eyes, O’Heyne scanned Picard and Sandy, evidently taking them for being the ones in charge, since they were standing and the others seated. He gestured at Sandy, but looked at Jeremiah. “Your cousin?”
“Yes,” Jeremiah confirmed. “Yes, he’s my cousin. We grew up together.”
“Well, then.” O’Heyne looked at Picard and Sandy. “I’m glad these are your relatives, Jeremiah, else we would have some tension here, I think, wouldn’t we?”
He coughed briefly, winced, then surveyed Wollard, Bennett, Nightingale, and Alexander with a keen and experienced eye. After a moment of sheepish, tense glances from those men back to him, O’Heyne looked once again at Sandy and Picard.
“The Justina?” he asked. “
Yes,” Picard flatly answered. “
The warping party?”
“Yes.”
“And you are an officer?”
“Yes. Mr, Leonfeld is sergeant of the grenadiers.”
He didn’t mention that the captain of the marines was dead now, giving Sandy that rank. Hejust didn’t want to get into it, or offer Sandy a rank technically higher than his own. Not yet, anyway.
“Mmm …” O’Heyne stood up, pondering the problem. After a moment he said, “Jeremiah, you’re not thinking. Don’t you know what you’ve done to these men by taking them out of their uniforms? If they’re discovered out of uniform by the Dover Infantry and found to be British, they won’t simply be impounded as prisoners of war. They’ll be hanged as spies. Like criminals. That’s certainly no way for a soldier to die, is it? In the enemy’s clothing?”
Jeremiah stared at him, then looked at the simple breeches, shirts, and jackets he had supplied his guests.
“Oh, my … I didn’t think of that,” he said, his face suddenly flushed.
“Gentlemen,” O’Heyne addressed, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put your uniforms back on and go out and get killed. Otherwise, you’ll go out there and pretend to be colonists until a chance comes to turn yourselves over to the King’s men. I put you on your honor not to shoot anyone in the back, or without identifying yourselves.”
Sandy Leonfeld puffed up with noble insult. “No man here will shoot anyone in the back, sir. We are not brutes, you know.”
“I know,” O’Heyne said. “I’ve been to England.” He paused, surveyed all the men, and added, “We’re not that different.”
Quite unexpectedly, he reached out a welcoming hand to the sergeant, whom he now knew to be his sworn enemy.
Sandy did not comply right away, but took several strained seconds before he accepted the gesture. Beside O’Heyne, Jeremiah quaked with relief.
Picard tucked back a smile as he appreciated the sight of the two powerful young adversaries, each well-armed with conviction, standing only a pace from each other, neither really knowing what to do next to keep the situation from exploding.
At once, Sandy stepped back and narrowed his eyes as if something had struck him. He pointed with discovery at Jeremiah’s friend. “Patrick O’Heyne …”
“Yes?”
“Patrick Harper O’Heyne? Of the Liverpool-New York Convoy Company?”
“Yes, thank you. My brother and myself.”
“Sir, we—” Sandy said on a gasp, “we have met before!”
Alexander stepped up to Picard’s side, overcome by his surprise. “You two know each other?”
“Evidently,” O’Heyne said. “Where might that meeting have happened, Mr. Leonfeld?”
The color rose in Sandy’s face. “At… the court of King George, sir.”
“Oh—you must mean the Royal birthday banquet.”
“I’m … I must mean that, sir.”
O’Heyne smiled. “Well, in that case, it’s mighty pleasant to meet again, Mr.