He spoke to Captain Jansen in hushed tones. Captain Jansen handed over the ship’s logbook. The officer took it and passed it immediately to the marine beside him. In moments, I watched bright uniforms disappearing into the Ambrosia’s dim hatches as the marines began a search of the ship.

Suddenly, the lieutenant saw me by the stairs and walked over.

Without deciding to, I felt myself drifting out to meet him.

“Good day, Miss Coates,” he said with a bow. “I am Lieutenant Vance of His Majesty’s Jason.” He had clever eyes, I noticed as I curtsied. Black as a bird’s. “Captain Jansen has just apprised me of your misfortune. I am exceeding sorry for your loss, madam. You have been in good care on the Ambrosia, I trust?”

“Miss Coates does not speak, sir,” said Captain Jansen, “on account of the shock.”

“I see.” Vance’s lips thinned like he’d tasted something bitter. “Well. A pleasure, madam.” He turned back to Captain Jansen, no longer interested in me. “I assume all hands are present?”

“Aye, sir. But I must say, sir, if I may, that I am rather deprived of able sailors at the moment.”

“Aren’t we all,” Lieutenant Vance said dismissively. Then he went to the beginning of the line and began to pace along it, taking each man’s measure. Eyeing them up and down like livestock. Nearly a hundred men were out there, yet all I could hear was the knock of his heels and the quiet whistle of a hot breeze blowing through the rigging. “You.” He stopped before Livingston. “What is your name, birthplace, and position on this ship?”

“Edward Livingston, sir. From Sussex. And I’m a gunner.”

“Are you any good?”

“I try to hit my marks, sir.”

“Better than do some. Will you volunteer for His Majesty’s Royal Navy, Mr. Livingston? Or shall we encourage you?”

Livingston glanced at the press-gang, waiting like eager hounds. “I…I will, sir.”

“You will what, Mr. Livingston?” Vance said with a cheerful lilt in his voice.

He enjoyed this, I realized.

“Volunteer, sir.”

“Brilliant. Your king thanks you.”

Livingston dropped his head and stumbled over his own feet as he left for the boarding ramp.

Lieutenant Vance moved down the line, pressing three more men into service. With every one, my fear and anger increased. I thought of Thomas Paine’s arguments against tyranny and Asa’s words about loyalty not depending on coercion.

This was coercion. This was wrong.

As Lieutenant Vance neared Asa, I held my breath. Asa looked relaxed, his gaze distant, like he was lost in a memory, but I could see the corded muscles in his neck.

Vance slowed down; then he caught his toe on the deck and stumbled. He frowned in annoyance at the planks and kept walking.

I gasped, relief flooding over me, and whispered a quick prayer of thanks to God for His mercy.