A short officer, a barrel-shaped captain, began shouting orders in a combination of English and French: the prisoners were to be returned to the stockade, the ship searched for the missing pay chests, the garrison surrounded. Then he saw the captain from the King's Rangers approaching and he seemed to collect himself. He pulled at his coat, straightened his hat, and made an attempt to calm his expression.

“Major Wyndham,” he said. “Everything is under control. We will have the rascals within the half hour.”

“The rascals are long gone,” said the major. “Keep everyone where they are for the moment.” Then he turned, his gaze scanning the men and sailors who stood along the dock.

“Mr. Bonner,” he called. “A word, please, and right away.”

Daniel closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, in and out, as he tried, without success, to gather his thoughts. When he looked again, his brother was standing beside Major Wyndham, their heads bent together.

Blue-Jay was standing just behind Daniel, and so he took a step in that direction. He spoke Mohawk, and kept his voice low. “Where are my sister and my cousin?”

The answer came back in the same language. “The guard says that Walks-Ahead is already on the ship. She went on board with the injured men an hour ago, while we were in the exercise yard.”

“And Jennet?”

There was a pause while Blue-Jay looked through the crowd. “No sign of her.” And then, “Have a look there, the ship's captain.”

Except the man who came down the gangplank wasn't any captain. He was wearing the uniform of a Royal Navy officer, that much was true, but he had never worn one before this day and, Daniel would wage his other good arm on it, would never wear one again after.

Jim Booke was directing the guards to carry on with the boarding of the prisoners, never raising his voice and staying well clear of the officers who stood on the shore.

The other men would all know of Jim Booke by his reputation, but none of them had ever seen the man, which was a good thing. Some one of them would give the game away, otherwise. Instead it looked, just for the moment, as if they might rebel.

A few minutes ago they had been glad to see the ship and eager to board, thinking themselves close to freedom; now they balked, some of them looking to Daniel for assurances he could not give them. In the end muskets were argument enough, and the slow shuffle toward the gangplank began again.

At dawn Mr. Whistler had come to wake Hannah with the news that the guards were come with the litters, and the sickest men were to board the transport ship first, and right away. She rubbed her eyes while he talked, and slowly two things came to her. Liam was dead, and Jennet had yet to come back from the followers' camp.

Daniel and Blue-Jay had already been marched out into the exercise yard to be manacled, but she was not so worried about them. It was Jennet's absence that disturbed her. But there was no time to do anything about that. She turned her mind to tending to the sick.

And still when the opportunity came, she could not keep herself from asking questions of the guards. None of them had seen Jennet. Even the friendliest of them had nothing to add that was any comfort.

Uz Brodie said, “She's supposed to be going to Montreal with the priest, is what I heard, and he left hours ago.”

“Unless she changed her mind?” asked one of the younger guards with a hopeful expression. “I can't see Mrs. Huntar as a nun, not for the life of me.”

Hannah's uneasiness grew all through the next hour of moving men who should have been left in peace. While she adjusted splinted legs and put rolled blankets under strained backs she tried to keep her mind off Jennet, and failed completely.

Perhaps she had gone with the priest, and would let herself be taken to the convent in Montreal. From there she could easily leave, and make her way to Luke's place. Perhaps she had already gone on board the ship with Luke, and was waiting there impatiently.

That must be it, of course. And still Hannah fumbled with the simplest tasks, and could not gather her thoughts.

By the time her patients were on board the Fair Wind, Hannah had the first evidence that Luke's plan was in place. She had never before been on board a Royal Navy transport ship, but she knew by looking at them that the sailors were her countrymen, regardless of the uniforms they wore. They were met by an officer who dismissed the garrison guards with a few curt words and then waited until those men were gone before he spoke to her.

“You're wanted in the captain's quarters, ma'am. I'm to tell you the prisoners will be well looked after there.”

Mr. Whistler looked the man up and down. “Tell me, son,” he said with a wink. “Where is it in England that you got that New-York accent?”

“A piece west of London,” came the gruff answer. “Newburgh on the Hudson.”

In the captain's cabin there were hastily put together berths for the sick men, and waiting among them, Many-Doves. Hannah looked at her aunt and cousin for a long moment before she could make her legs move her forward, and then she walked into her, where she stood, shaking, and without words.

When she could control her voice she said, “Daniel and Blue-Jay will be coming on board with the other prisoners.”

“They'll be brought straight here,” Luke said. He had come into the cabin behind her. His color was high, and his eyes bright with excitement or worry or both, Hannah could not say.

Hannah said, “I don't know where Jennet is. Do you?”