Wide is the Water by Jane Aiken Hodge

My mother. My wife.’
    â€˜You’re never married!’ He had been thinking this newfound cousin of his young to be a captain, despite the hint of white in his untidy fair hair.
    â€˜Last autumn.’ It was March now, nearly three months since that swift, sad parting from Mercy and no possible chance of hearing from her. But she would be safe with the Pastons. Of course she would. If he had left her at Philadelphia, as she had asked, everything would have been different; none of this would have happened. No use thinking of that now. But he must remember it when he felt himself tempted to blame her for his crew’s disaffection. ‘My wife’s staying with relatives of ours near Boston,’ he said. ‘I’d very much like to get word to her and to my mother in Savannah.’
    â€˜Write to them both, of course.’ Captain Purchas poured more wine. ‘But I’m afraid your wife is more likely to learn the news from the public prints. Your mother in Savannah is another matter since we hold the town. I know Sir James Wright, the British Governor of Georgia, slightly. If we do speak a ship, I’ll enclose your letter to your mother under cover to him.’
    â€˜He’s an old friend of ours,’ said Hart.
    â€˜There you are. I told you it was a ridiculous war. I devoutly hope we’ll get home to find that negotiations for peace are under way. In the meantime, Cousin Purchis, you must consider yourself my guest while you are on board the
Sparrow.
Have I your word that you’ll not try to escape or meddle with the men?’
    Hart paused for a moment, looking round the luxurious cabin, remembering the sheer size of the
Sparrow.
Thought of escape was idiotic, and as for his crew … ‘Yes,’ he said.
    â€˜Sensible.’ Purchas breathed a sigh of relief and shouted an order to the marine on duty outside the cabin door. ‘You’ll be glad to get to your cabin. Paper and pen will be brought to you directly. If we sight a ship at all, it’s most likely to be in the next day or so.’
    â€˜Thank you. You’ll let me have a copy of the list of survivors?’
    â€˜Of course. And you’ll want to visit your sick. But later, if you please, when the surgeon has had time to go the rounds.’ He held out his hand. ‘I hope you will be as happy as is possible on board the
Sparrow,
Cousin.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ He could not quite bring himself to call this friendly stranger cousin.
    The first lieutenant of the
Sparrow
had presumably been turned out to make room for Hart in this tiny cabin that was more like a cupboard, with a cot, a writing desk, and a chest for the clothes he did not have. It was mercy enough that they had managed to get the wounded off the
Georgia
before she sank, taking the dead with her. Snatching the ship’s papers from his cabin, he had felt the
Georgia
settling in the water. No time to think about his own effects when there were still wounded to be got aboard the
Sparrow’s
boats. It was only now, as a grinning British sailor brought him paper, pen, and a small inkstand, that he remembered the certificate of marriage Captain Bougainville had written for him and Mercy on board the
Guerrier.
He had kept it in his Bible, and it had gone down with the
Georgia.
    An unlucky marriage from the start? He would not believe it. But the loss of their marriage lines did not make writing to Mercy any easier, and he decided to write the letter to his mother first. After all, it was much more likely to reach its destination, and then, surely, his mother would get word to Mercy. After all, so far as he knew, his mother, his aunt Mayfield, and his cousin Abigail were still living very comfortably in the Savannah house on Mercy’s earnings. It was entirely thanks to her that they had survived the rigours of the British occupation as well as they had. She had turned the Purchis house in Oglethorpe Square into a kind