by Andre Norton
"But, Captain, in broad daylight," he protested.
"Don't stutter!" the other ordered. "Didn't Henderson achieve almost the same sort of trick? With the cloth I have ordered I can alter these uniforms into British ones. After all they were made from captured British cloth. Only the lapels, the waistcoats and maybe new breeches have to be made. I have it from the sergeant that we are to be visited in a week's time by a naval party—one of those groups of young officers up to see the enemy in their den "
Fitz nodded. One such party of sight-seers had come to the Old Mill the day after his arrival.
"Take one of these drizzly days such as seem to be ordinary in Devon, and let us mingle with the crowd of officers and we can walk out—as smart as you please! It is not as harebrained a plan as you might think."
As Crofts explained, Fitz began to understand. There was a great deal of truth in what the Captain said. On a foggy day the exploit might well come within the realms of possibility after all. He began to take fire until he remembered what lay beyond the walls—a city.
"And what do we do—once outside?'' He asked. "Wander around as did Henderson until the provost guard snaps us up and we spend forty days in the Black Hole, if not worse, for being found with the wrong coats on our backs?"
"Once outside there are those who will see us out of Plymouth." Crofts appeared wholly confidant. "But don't ask for the full story now. You'll have it all in good time."
Fitz remembered what Watts had said weeks ago— that there were those in England who would contrive to set an American back across the Channel again safely, could he win their aid. Probably Crofts knew of such, right here in the heart of one of the greatest English naval ports.
"Now, you, my friend," the Captain continued briskly, are going to be taken of a chill "
"A what?"
"A chill. Making it necessary for you to borrow from Captain Blount his greatcoat—the Captain's being the only whole one big enough to cover those legs of yours. You will wear this coat in the yard for the next few days —constantly. Also it might be well to cultivate a cough of sorts to lend your role color. I don't know how good a play actor you are, Lyon, but do your best—your very best. You'll find Blount's coat over there. And shiver, my boy, don't forget to shiver!"
"That won't be so hard. They call this summer-but I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be really warm again." The Marylander looked at his bare surroundings with open dissatisfaction. "All right, I shiver and chill and take the loan of Blount's coat. What else-break out with smallpox no doubt?"
"No," Crofts' answer came briskly. "You persuade the barber surgeon, who is with the Frenchies over the way, to clip your hair very short "
Fitz was on his feet. "I what?" he demanded.
"Use your eyes, man," Crofts was impatient. "These British officers wear wigs—they're smarter and more a la mode than our men. Think you can cram a wig on over that thatch of yours? And don't say you can powder—where and how "
Fitz crossed the room and peered anxiously into the scrap of mirror which served Henderson in making his toilet. The bandage was off his hand and a raw looking gash almost at the hairline on his left temple was the only sign of his wound. He had never worn either wig or powder and wondered how it would seem to see white instead of black hair on his reflection.
"You'll be surprised at the way it will disguise you," Crofts added. "Faith, I've not known myself the once or twice I was moved to play the fop."
"And where do we get the wigs?" Fitz wanted to know. "Not with the compliments of the agent, I suppose?"
"Well get them at the proper time. Meanwhile you have your hair clipped to relieve those headaches of yours. A good excuse which everyone will accept without question."
"So I get clipped and shiver." Fitz was resigned to his fate now. "Very well, sir. At least I shan't be able to complain of the dullness of my days in prison."
Crofts laughed. "Oh, I promise you there'll be excitement aplenty before we are done with this excursion of ours. And we aren't the only ones to be planning to go a-roving. Three of our men are working with the party who are now investigating the possibilities of the sewer system. They deserve a fair return for the labor they are putting into that exploit "
"What about Mike, sir?" Fitz came back to the table. "He came in with me and I don't like to think of him being left here alone."
Crofts' hands were suddenly still. "Yes, Mike," he said slowly. "There is this in our plans, Lyon. We may speak of it as an amusing episode, a trick of wits against wits. But they," he waved to the wall and what lay beyond it, "don't altogether consider it in the same light. Fugitives may be safely shot at. And the Black Hole is not a good place for a boy scarce into his teens. Mike is safer here under Captain Drake's supervision. I've made arrangements for Mike with the Captain. And once we get outside there are others who can be induced to do something for the lad."
His last hesitation thus swept away, Fitz pulled on the rusty woolen coat. "Very well, sir, I go now—to be clipped and to shiver—in public." He saluted in an exaggerated manner and the Captain grinned.
"For a marine you're a remarkably adaptable man, Mr. Lyon."
"Marines are adaptable, sir. Aren't they soldiers and sailors too—usually getting the worst of both bargains? When do I see my new suit?"
"When I send for you, sir, and not before." Crofts returned to his calculations, and Fitz took the hint to go-
The French barber-surgeon was duly sympathetic with Fitz's tale of headaches and agreed that removing the weight of hair might help the condition. He also examined the cut professionally, pronounced it healing nicely, and accepted half a crown with the greatest of ease. But Fitz thought it well to cultivate ill health and dragged himself back to the so-called warmth of the "coffee house." Refusing to do more than unbutton the top two buttons of his borrowed coat, he proclaimed to all comers the unfortunate state of his health and remained in the most depressed spirits all afternoon, until even Neagle gave him up as impossible and left him to brood alone in the darkest corner of the room. Fitz responded by actually dozing off and awoke sometime later with a start which would have been more apt if given by a sentry at a frontier fort when confronted by a painted Mohawk. Mike stood before him hopping impatiently from foot to foot.
"Please, sir, the Captain wants to see you—in Mr. Henderson's room. ,,
Just in time Fitz recalled his invalid state and was able to turn his quick jerk forward into a creaking rise, throwing in a groan for good measure. He rubbed his forehead as he crossed the room and was careful to halt inside the door to make sure his coat was buttoned against the drizzle which was beginning to fall again.
Fitz hoped that they could reasonably count on the persistence of vile weather. A few unwholesome fogs would be excellent. He climbed the stairs to Henderson's quarters with a stiffness which was not altogether imagined. The doze on the hard bench had done nothing to keep him supple. And he showed not too bright a face to his commander, just as the other's greeting to him was anything but flattering. For Crofts had taken one look at his uncovered head and had burst into open and prolonged laughter.
The marine sought the mirror for the second time that day and was revolted by what he saw there. His head was now covered by what appeared to be springy black fur about an inch long—like the pelt of a cat— and his ears stood out gauntly in a fashion which would have finished off all vanity, had he still possessed any. He turned back to the Captain with some of his old heat.
"Very amusing, aren't I? Faith, I should have had him finish the job and painted my face. Then you could have trotted me through the countryside for an Indian! I'll wager such a trip would be no more lack-witted than the other.''
Crofts, weak from laughter, held up his hand in protest. "Wait until the transformation, my boy. I'm sure then you won't be so dour-mouthed about it. Clap a wig over that skull, and a properly fitted coat on you, up your nose at the world, and you'll make a guardsman as will turn maids' heads in plenty."
; "Yes," came Henderson's voice from the shadows, "does not the ugly worm become in time the butterfly?"
Fitz made a face at his reflection and then grinned. "So now I am a worm, am I? Well, just so I am not required to make this mysterious journey of ours flat on my belly after the way of worms! And how about our clothes?"
"You see before you the raw material." Crofts showed him two rolls of blue and white cloth and a smaller package with a glint of color in its interior. "I must reduce my rank—a man of my age would hardly be a captain in the British Navy where seniority and rank go hand in hand. So I become a lieutenant and you step up—also a lieutenant—though a junior one, of course.”
Fitz considered that. "Suppose I decide to hold to my new rank, sir?" he asked mischievously.
The quirk of amusement faded from Crofts' lips and he looked up at his taller junior with honest seriousness. "If we come safely through this venture, Lyon, and you wish to stay with me, there will be a full lieutenancy of marines for you. Poor Biggs did not survive that last boarding attack and I like to choose my own officers/'
"I'll remember, sir. And I shall remind you of it— the first instant after we step foot in France again."
Henderson lifted the small noggin he had been nursing. "And as one standing only on the outskirts of this desperate venture," he told them, "I am going to drink to that, gentlemen. Though this I shall also say, of all the men now under this roof, I believe you two to be the best equipped to try the venture which you, Captain Crofts, have outlined to me. It is fantastic, unbelievable, and impossible. But I think that you can do it!"
Crofts bowed. "Coming from you, sir, that is an opinion we shall cherish. Luck may have turned her smiles from us for the moment, but that shall not prevent our wooing the proud jade again. Now then, Lyon, if you will remove Blount's mainsail and sundry of your other garments, while Mr. Henderson makes certain that we shall not be interrupted, we shall see how much of my training as an apprentice I have forgotten."
11
Trouble At The Green Man
Oh, God made man, and man made ships,
But God makes very few
Like him who sailed our ship that day,
And fought her, one to two.
—the Constitution's last fight
But for the next few days the weather was obstinately good, and Fitz, puffing about in the greatcoat, began to be thankful for the forced shearing which left at least one portion of his body cool. Yet Devon was not Maryland, and four days of a pale sun did not mean American summertime. He awoke on the fifth morning to find a fine rain falling in the Mill yard. And the drum of that water on the wall was as stirring to his blood as the recruiting music which had drawn him into this adventure in the first place.
He lost no time in seeking out Captain Crofts. Unfortunately, a day of rain also meant a day of school for the children of the prison, and Henderson's pupils were all there, and so private conversation was impossible. Fitz curled his long legs under him on a back bench and settled down to listen while Crofts stitched ahead at his tailor's work and Henderson talked as vividly as ever.
They were treated to an entertaining discourse on the progress of the war and what it meant to their homeland, with speculative excursions into the future of the western lands and how many miles it might be from the Atlantic to the Pacific—providing one was able to make the trip safely under one's own scalp. This subject led naturally to some bloody reminiscences of the late Indian wars, to the account of which almost everyone present, as young as he might be, could add a tale from his own family history.
Finally the study period was over. Henderson lit two candle stubs and put them on the table at Crofts' elbow.
"How does it go, my friend?"
Crofts regarded a pricked finger and swore. "Awkwardly enough," he returned frankly. " 'Tis not as neat as it might be, but I think it shall pass inspection."
Fitz shed his outer garments and tried on the result of the Captain's work, turning slowly before his critical audience while they tried to find flaws. Finally Henderson nodded with approval.
"To my old eyes it is as like the plumage of one of those young cocks as one crow's feather is like another. A good job, my boy—in fact—excellent!"
Crofts skinned off the cloak he had worn draped about his shirt-sleeved shoulders and pulled on the other coat, so that a moment later two lieutenants of His Majesty's Navy strode the boards of Mill. Henderson clapped his hands.
"Capital! Capital! You might set up in London to tailor the mode, Captain, and make a fortune at it. Now for the finishing touch "
The schoolmaster brought out a covered basket, from the depths of which he produced two objects well wrapped in clean towels. At his command Fitz sat down and allowed Henderson to adjust over his clipped hair a freshly tied and curled wig. When it was safely in place the Marylander crossed to the mirror and surveyed himself. A stranger stared back at him a bit defiantly.
Crofts had been right. The white curls and smooth waves above his forehead gave a totally new cast to his features. The weathered brown of his skin seemed all the darker by contrast—now he was almost swarthy. And yet, when he put up his chin and curled his lips a little scornfully, he resembled any of the young officers who had come to see them from time to time. He wished that the scrap of mirror were larger so that he could see all of himself in this new guise.
A little reluctantly he turned to face Crofts, but the American Captain had disappeared. Instead, a gamecock officer fronted him, a man with an arrogant tilt of the head and a have-at-you air to him. It would be a brave sentry or provost guard who would dare to ask this apparition for his credentials. Fitz's confidence began to rise: they would be able to do it. But something of his feelings must have shown in his face, for Crofts said gravely, "Don't be a crowing cock too soon, Lyon. We aren't out of the reach of the poulterer yet."
"When do we try it?" Fitz wanted to know. Now that he was costumed for the role he was eager for the play to begin.
"I have been informed," Henderson answered tranquilly, "that there is a good chance of our being visited by a choice party of our captors this afternoon. It seems that two frigates have arrived in harbor and, since we are the principal source of amusement ashore at the present time, we are to receive some attention from the officers. So I would advise that the two of you linger here. If we are so visited, one of my scouts shall bring me intelligence of it, and then you can carry out your plans as you see fit."
Fitz pulled at his stock and strode impatiently back and forth across the room until Crofts motioned him to come and sit beside him. The Captain had twisted a length of paper into a spill and was lighting it at the candle, letting it burn and then pulverizing the ash with his fingers.
"If we are separated," he began, "it will be necessary for you to have some information. And if there is a chance of trouble we must separate. It is better that one gets through than neither. Remember that," he said, looking at the marine sternly. "There must be no heroics for either of us. And our safe return to France may be more important than you think. Every effective officer who gets out of prison and back into service is a minor victory for our cause.
"Now pay strict attention to this. We shall go to a certain address here in Plymouth, and, if all has progressed as I have reason to believe it has, we will take a post chaise there and go across Dartmoor to Exeter. From there our way lies through Bath to London "
"London!" Fitz had had an idea that they would try to escape by the Channel instead of venturing into the heart of enemy territory.
"Yes, London. Once the alarm bell rings here, the waterfront will be watched. They will not expect us to strike inland, and there is a better chance to escape through London than from a naval port such as Plymouth—with half a fleet in the bay, patrol boats out, and a sentry behind every quay post. In London, on the Pall Mall, there is a coffee house—the Sign of the Lighted Candle—much patronized by Tory refugees from the states. We are to go there to contact one George Norwood. Ask
for him openly, it is much the custom to give a coffee house address as one's own if one hasn't presentable lodgings. And half the Tories are well out at the elbows now that their holdings on our side have been confiscated. When you meet with Norwood, say that you come from the Gray Brothers, and then follow his orders. Remember these directions if we have to part ways before reaching London."
Fitz repeated slowly, to the Captain's satisfaction, "The Sign of the Lighted Candle on the Pall Mall, George Norwood, the Gray Brothers."
"Gentlemen," Henderson, who had gone quietly out of the room, was now back again, standing just inside the door, "our visitors from the harbor are now within the outer wall."
Fitz settled his hat carefully over the new wig, a little wary of its security on his skull. Then Blount's coat went over his uniform, while the Captain muffled his in the boat cloak. They shook hands with Henderson before trudging down the stairs to the misty yard. It was easy enough to walk across and join a small group of disconsolate Americans who huddled together in the rain like a flock of damp barnyard fowl.
"That you, Cap'n?" inquired one softly as they came up. Fitz recognized one of the gunners who had served aboard the Retaliation.
"Aye, Ames. This is our day, man "
"We be ready, sir. Jus' give us th' word!" There was a burst of loud laughter from the inner gate, and a party of cloaked officers came through, looking around them with the same frank curiosity which one might have when visiting a lion's den in safety. They were all young men and plainly on a holiday. Fitz's spirits rose. It should not be hard, with the misty rain to curtain them, to join the tail of such a group when they went out again.
The visitors favored the Americans in the yard with only a glance or two, since the unpleasantness of the weather sent them on into the shelter of the main prison house without lingering. After they had gone, a small figure pounded out and shoved an unwieldy bundle of cloth at Fitz. It was Mike.