"When?" Charlisse demanded. "When are they going to hang him?"
"Don't rightly know, miss," Sloane spat between breaths. "More 'n likely not till next Friday. Friday's be hangin' days here in Port Royal."
"Who arrested him?" the reverend asked.
"The gov'nor. Chained an' taken away by a band o' British troops not an hour ago."
The reverend peered into the darkness before shutting the door. "Have a seat, Mr. Sloane." He gestured toward a chair. "Let's calm down and hear the whole story."
"There be nothin' much to tell, Rev." Sloane remained standing. "The cap'n got in a bit o' a brawl with Edward the Terror down at the Dead Reckonin'." He cast an apprehensive glance at Charlisse.
"My father?"
"Aye, miss."
Charlisse clenched her jaw. "He knew where my father was, and he didn't tell me!"
The reverend took a step toward her. "It was for your protection, Miss Bristol."
Charlisse swerved to face him. "You knew about this too? Are there no trustworthy men to be found anywhere?"