Historical Fiction/Nautical Fiction
Date Published: June 23, 2026
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
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.
EXCERPT
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
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.
