Book 2 of The Sea Hawkes Chronicles
Historical Fiction/Nautical Fiction
Date Published: June 23, 2026
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
Vengeance is as dangerous to a cause as to the enemy.
The murder of his wife at the hands of British soldiers prompts American
privateer Captain Jonas Hawke’s vow to make Britain pay.
A grief-stricken Jonas strikes deep into the heart of the enemy, driven by his
personal vendetta. When he raids a port city, one of his men crosses an
unthinkable line, which forces Jonas to come to terms with the anguish that
distorts his definition of justice.
Concerned his wrath will bring irreparable harm to the cause for
America’s freedom, Jonas grapples with his role as a warrior and as a
man. When he learns the Royal Navy is hunting his ship, he fears his deadly
decisions may have cost him and his crew everything. It’s too late to
turn back. Instead, he must continue on and face the inevitable perils of war.
Perilous Shores is a gripping, action-packed, and historically authentic tale
of revenge, survival, and one man’s relentless pursuit of his
country’s independence.
Chapter One
26 April 1777
Near Compo, Connecticut
The sun crested the trees, quickly burning off the tendrils
of fog that hugged the bay. Boats filled with soldiers moved between anchored
ships and the shore. The ships flew the Royal Navy standard. The soldiers wore
red.
The watchers, a man and a boy, had been on the road from
Newport, Rhode Island to Philadelphia for a week. The boy sank against a tree,
dropping his seabag from his shoulders. He shivered from the cold, and
something else.
“Thirteen of sail. Dozens of boats, hundreds of soldiers,”
Jonas Hawke muttered. He turned to his son, William. Jaw clenched, he ground
his teeth. “We must find the local militia. Inform them.”
A pale William looked up, his eyes wide. “But won’t someone
else have already told them?”
Jonas cocked his head. “Perhaps, but we must make sure.” He
turned to walk back the way they’d come. “If you are ever in doubt about what
you should do, act. If you are uncertain about someone else already having
acted, act anyway. ’Tis better the militia get two reports, or a dozen, than
none be given on the chance that ‘someone’ else may have already done so.”
William thought for a moment and nodded. As he rose to
follow, he struggled into the straps of his seabag.
Together, they hurried back along the path that paralleled
the road. Jonas would look for a tavern or inn, where he might quietly inquire
after local militia leaders.
Fifteen minutes earlier, while walking along the Connecticut
coast road this late spring morning, Jonas had sighted the Royal Navy standard
floating above the trees in an estuary near the Saugatuck River. Moving
carefully into a stand of woods that stretched nearly to the shoreline at the
eastern edge of the millpond to watch, the presence of the British revived rage
Jonas had carefully sought to suppress.
Now, as the two rounded a tree, a voice called out from
behind. “You two! Stop!”
Jonas and William froze in their tracks.
“Turn around, slowly.”
They turned.
Four British soldiers stood before them, one a sergeant.
Three held muskets aimed at Jonas’s and William’s chests. Arms folded, the
sergeant stood smiling slightly without humor. “And what do we ‘ave ‘ere, eh?”
The sight of their red uniform coats clenched Jonas’s fists.
The sounds of the woods was replaced by a roaring in his ears.
Forcing himself to relax, he put his hand on William’s
shoulder. “My son and I are traveling, sir. With your permission, we’ll be on
our way.”
“Wha’ and tell the rebels we are ‘ere?” He gave a short
laugh. “Not on your life. You’re coming wi’ me. The lieutenant’ll decide wha’
to do with you.” He turned to the man on his right. “You and Allen take these
two back to the lieutenant. Tell ‘im they was acting like spies.” To Jonas and
William, he barked, “Move.”
Jonas decided silence was his best option.
The sergeant waved his hand to indicate the direction. Two
soldiers fell in behind, muskets no longer aimed, instead held ready for use as
clubs. The sergeant and the third soldier disappeared noiselessly into the
woods behind.
William continued shaking as the group walked. The sound of
crickets in the grass did little to calm him.
After a few minutes, they arrived in a wide clearing, the
grass trampled flat. A few dozen soldiers stood formed up, readying to march
down the road that cut through on the western side of the open area.
The small group paraded up to an officer. “Sir, Sergeant
Hawthorne begs to tell the lieutenan’ that he and us found these two sneakin’
aroun’ in the trees by way o’ the road. He says to say they was acting like
spies, sir.”
The officer spared barely a glance at William, then looked
Jonas up and down. “Well, what have ye to say?”
Jonas’s hand moved once more to William’s shoulder. “Sir, my
son and I are simply traveling. We happened to be on the road when I saw your
ships. I thought it best not to get in the way of your soldiers, so we were
going back toward Fairfield until you’d passed.”
The man pursed his lips. “Well, well. But who are you now?
To where are you bound? And from where?”
“My name is Hawke. From Norfolk, in Virginia. We were in
Newport, Rhode Island, with my sister’s family. Now we are returning.”
“To Norfolk? Why not take a ship? Virginia is a long way by
land. Especially with a child.”
“I am not a child!” William’s outburst caught both men by
surprise.
“It’s alright, William.” Jonas tightly squeezed his son’s
shoulder, and he subsided. I have enough anger for the both of us.
“Well, I am sorry, young man. I wouldn’t dream of
offending such a strapping young lad.” The lieutenant laughed, eyes momentarily
reflecting joy. Returning his attention to Jonas, the frown returned.
“I have two boys myself, in Devonport.” He sighed. “I
haven’t seen them for nigh on a year.” Straightening, he caught himself. “But
never mind, the question stands.”
“We do not take ship transport because none sail from
Newport, on orders of General Clinton. The Royal Navy has closed the port to
all but naval vessels.”
The man nodded slightly. His frown disappeared. “Then why
not take a small packet from another of the ports along this coast? There are
many.”
“Because the Royal Navy stops every colonial ship. Some
captains resist. I will not risk my boy.”
Pursing his lips, the lieutenant said, “Very well. But with
rebel militia hereabouts, it seems a risk to walk, too.”
He peered more closely at Jonas. “Unless you, sir, have
rebel sympathies?”
“I have endeavored throughout my life to avoid politics,
Lieutenant…” Jonas began. He fought to slow his breathing.
“Hargrave. Of the Fourth Regiment of Foot; the King’s Own.
How is it possible in these times to avoid politics? Surely you believe more
strongly in favor of one side or the other?”
Jonas closed his eyes and sighed. “Sir, I would that we
could return to the days of peace, now passed. For the moment, I simply try to
keep my family alive.” His voice caught. “I have failed in that duty in respect
to my wife. Now I must keep my son alive.”
Hargrave frowned again. “I am sorry to hear of it.”
Straightening his shoulders, he continued. “But I must add to your difficulty.
I cannot let you go on your way.”
As Jonas began to protest, he held up his hand. “There is
nothing to be said. You say you avoid politics and seem an honest man. However,
you have not said you support your king. For the sake of your boy, I
will not force you to either lie or be taken prisoner. But I also cannot have
you going to the local rebels and alerting them to our presence. Therefore, I
will temporarily detain you, until we have done what we have come to
do.”
“It is likely they are already aware, sir. I cannot be the
only person who saw your ships.”
“True enough. But we landed patrols last night to clear our
path. You are the fruit of that work. Mayhap we have at least delayed the
enemy.” He shook his head. “Meanwhile, I will hold you and the others. My men
have secured a house nearby. There you will remain until we return.”
About the Author
Thomas M. Wing, a Naval Academy and Naval War College graduate, retired
after thirty-two years as a Navy Surface Warfare officer. A dedicated sailor
for half a century, he created the Continental Navy Foundation, served as its
executive director, and commanded its brigantine, Megan D.
Tom’s first novel, Against All Enemies, earned gold medals from the
Military Writers Society of America and Literary Titan. In Harm’s Way,
the first in the Sea Hawkes Chronicles series has also garnered several
awards.
He resides in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife and daughter and a cat and a
dog. Whatever free time he has is still spent on the water.
For more about the author and to follow his blog about nautical and naval
trivia, visit his website ThomasMWing.com.
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