Chapter Fifteen
Ramsey!” Webb spat the name like a curse. Duncan had just described what he had discovered in the manor house. “I know the bloated prig.”
Duncan felt bile rising up his throat. Seeing the portrait had been a waking nightmare. “He fashions himself as a commodore, and wears a fanciful uniform.”
Webb’s eyes flared. “He owns tobacco plantations in Virginia, indigo plantations in Georgia, and sugar plantations in the West Indies. Cajoled his friend the governor into granting him a commission in the Virginia navy, which at the time had maybe four dinghies and a scow in its fleet. He promised he would get ships seconded from His Majesty’s navy.” The militia officer looked back at the masts extending over the riverbank. “Is that the Ardent? That’s his brig, by God!”
Ardent“The
