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year. In his letter, he stressed that the proposed project would take years to complete, that the colony’s land records were neither complete nor wholly accurate, that the General Assembly would probably refuse to vote the funds for the project — or not enough — and that, in any event, the information sought by the Board could be readily obtained from the Auditor-General’s office there in London, which contained the annual rent rolls and accounts of the colony. The Lieutenant-Governor derived some personal satisfaction from the circumspect reproach in his letter to their lordships. This was the limit of his rebellion.
    * * *
    Captain John Ramshaw, nominally an Anglican, rarely attended services. He reasoned that an angry sea was enough of a fear-inducing phenomenon without him having to be fearful of the Entity credited with its creation. He had fought and survived many storms, and after each one thanked himself first before thanking God. As he saw it, he had beaten Him every time, and charged to an imaginary account in His name every broken spar, shredded sail, and damaged cargo caused by a storm. This was the limit of his faith.
    In February, he delayed sailing the
Sparrowhawk
to Norfolk so that minor repairs could be made on the vessel. He stayed with Jack Frake at Morland Hall. As a novelty, he attended Reverend Acland’s service at the church. He, too, concluded that the minister was a vindictive man. When he returned to Morland, he said to Jack, “By God, I can tell you, that man has no love for his flock. He’d just as soon see them offer their throats to wolves as see them graze in the fields of purity, just as long as they submitted.”
    Jack smiled and put down the book he was reading. “I warned you,” he said. Then he rose from his desk. “Let’s have some breakfast.”
    “Speaking of wolves,” remarked the captain as they waited for Mrs. Beck to serve them, “when I was last in London, I picked up much talk among the merchants there about some mischief they are up to. It seems that many of them have pestered the Board of Trade and other dens of thievery with demands that something be done about your money, these notes issued by the Assembly here that pass for specie. In London, you know, they are virtually worthless. And I believe our friends wish for a law that would require you people to pay all your debts and for laded goods in sterling.”
    Jack scoffed immediately and shook his head. “Not so much sterling flows through the colonies in a year that could keep Queen Charlotte in good service for a week.”
    “A week or less,” chuckled Ramshaw. “Even so, they will demand such a law. I do not believe any of these fellows appreciate the disadvantages under which the colonies labor.”
    “If they knew, do you think it would make a difference to them?”
    “No. Probably not. The navigation rules do not give you people a fair roll of the dice. They never will, never can. That is why smuggling and forged cockets are more profitable means of trade than ‘fair’ trading.” Ramshaw grinned. “Does your friend Mr. Kenrick know how you remain solvent?”
    “He suspects, but does not inquire.” Jack paused. Mrs. Beck came in with a tray holding their breakfasts.
    When she was gone, Ramshaw asked, “How does he fare?”
    “His father owns a bank, and you know that he also has a busy commerce. Hugh is paid in specie — not necessarily in sterling — just as you pay me, in violation of another law. Otherwise, he would be in as great a debt as any of the other planters here.” Jack chuckled. “Between us, he and I are largely responsible for any coin you may see changing hands in Caxton.”
    “He is a good and wise lad.”
    “And a friend.” Jack took a mouthful from his plate, then said, “He has a friend in the Commons now, who has written him that there is also talk about removing smuggling cases from colonial juries and assigning them exclusively to non-juried vice-admiralty