War

by Edward Cline

  “I am not too tired, thank you. Your company has refreshed me. All these years, I have tried to imagine what Meum Hall looked like, and here I am! We came through the fields from the stream that borders your south pasturage.” Roger beamed. “Reverdy is looking well. We were having a glorious chat before you interrupted!” he added in mock accusation.

  Hugh smiled dolefully. He announced with reluctance, “Reverdy will soon sail for England, Roger. She has not seen it or her parents for nigh on ten years. Her family are near frantic to see her again. You know that she was too ill to accompany me to your wedding, and on my brief visit to the Continent.” He sighed. “The troubles here have made her homesick.” He added woodenly, “And, she…disapproves of my actions.”

  “It saddens me to hear it, Hugh,” Roger replied after a stunned moment. The character of some of Reverdy’s comments now made sense to him. After a pause, he remarked, “I am surprised by this. She gave me to believe that she shared your views on Lord Dunmore.”

  “She is critical of the man, not of his office.” Hugh shook his head. “Well, we have agreed that perhaps some time away from here, and away from the strife that is sure to continue, may allow her to more calmly reflect on the matters at hand.”

  Something in Hugh’s manner and words told Roger that the subject was not to be pursued. “Well, elder brother,” he said cheerily after he had emptied his glass of Madeira and put it down on a stand, “show me your realm!”

  * * *

  The next morning, under an overcast sky that promised rain, Hugh made his excuses, left Reverdy to entertain his guests, and rode to Morland Hall. Jack Frake, he learned there from Etáin, had gone to Yorktown on plantation business, and would not return until the next day. He saw Etáin in her own music room, where she was working on a harp transcription of William Boyce’s first symphony. As Ruth Dakin served them tea at a corner table, Etáin said, “I do not ever expect to play it through to the end. It is much too long. But, there are certain passages in the opus that beg for performance.”

  “I should like to hear it some time,” said Hugh. “The last I was in London, I heard the entire symphony played in the opera house.”

  “And, you shall hear it, once I’ve finished the task,” Etáin assured him, as Ruth Dakin left the room. Then Etáin remembered something. “Oh! Mr. Proudlocks is back from London! He arrived yesterday, on the Sparrowhawk.”

  “Oh,” Hugh said with interest. “Captain Geary did not tell me. Where is he now?”

  Etáin laughed. “Why, at Sachem Hall, of course! While he was away, Mr. Reisdale’s brothers filed some papers with the Louisa County court about two years ago concerning Mr. Reisdale’s property in the Piedmont. They seek his written assurance that they have rightful title to it. Mr. Proudlocks will not contest their claim. He says that Sachem Hall was enough of a bequest.” Etáin looked reflective. “Mr. Reisdale’s brothers did not bother to come here to inquire, so I do not think they knew Mr. Proudlocks is an Indian. If they knew, I believe they would take a suit to the General Court.”

  “This is true,” said Hugh. “The law is quite explicit on that matter.” He smiled. “I must ask him about his sojourn in London, the next I see him.”

  Etáin sensed that, although Hugh and Proudlocks were close friends, at the moment seeing their mutual friend was the furthest thing in her guest’s mind. “And, to what do I owe this visit?”

  Hugh put down his teacup. “I know that you would answer for your husband, and so, in his absence, I must pose the question to you, instead. An answer is quite imperative.”

  “What question?”

  “My old friend, Roger Tallmadge, is staying with us for a few days, before continuing his travels.”

  Etáin smiled, delighted. “You have told us much about him. We would be happy to meet him.”

  “He is a captain in the army, Etáin. He is accompanied by an aide, Lieutenant William Manners.”

  Etáin waited for her guest to continue.

  Hugh said, “He has been in the colonies since January, gathering information on colonial military prowess and strength. By summer’s end, he will report to General Gage in Boston, and send his conclusions to London, as well. His mission is… secret. He has seen the Governor.”

  Etáin put down her teacup. “And, what is your question, Hugh?”

  “Whether you and Jack would be willing to meet him.” Hugh paused. “He is a dear friend, and I should like you both to meet him as such, but the reason for his presence here — and both his presence and his purpose were a surprise to me — requires that you know his circumstances. I would not want to introduce him under false pretences.”

  “I see.” Etáin sat for a moment, thinking. Then she said, “As much as I would like to meet your friend, Hugh, I don’t think Jack would share my curiosity. We would all find ourselves in an awkward circumstance, even your friend.” She added, after a moment. “I am sorry, but given the greater circumstance, his company would not be welcome. I am certain Jack would agree with me.”

  “I concur.” Hugh hastened to add, “Of course, there is nothing for me to forgive in the smaller circumstance, and so I ask that you not beg pardon for the special refusal, if one could call it that.”

  Etáin smiled at him. “One could call it honesty.”

  “Yes. One could call it that.”

  Etáin reached over and refilled Hugh’s teacup. “Does Reverdy still plan to leave for England? She did not mention it yesterday, when I visited her.”

  “Yes,” sighed Hugh. “Perhaps even on the Sparrowhawk, when Captain Geary comes back down the river from West Point.” He sipped the tea that his hostess had just poured. “She will take Dilch with her. She and Reverdy have become fast friends, as you know. Reverdy gave her a book of poetry by that black prodigy from Boston, Phillis Wheatley.” Dilch, who once worked in the plantation fields, had become his wife’s maidservant. The mistress of Meum Hall had years ago, as a corrective to her boredom, taken it upon herself to enlighten the reticent former slave. Dilch, in gratitude, subsequently became Reverdy’s devoted companion.

  For a moment, Hugh seemed lost in thought. Then he remembered Etáin, put down his teacup, smiled and rose. “Well, I thank you for your honesty, Etáin. I must return to my guests. Please give my regards to Jack, when he returns. You needn’t show me out.”

  Chapter 5: The Interlopers

  It did not rain. Later that day, Hugh rode into Caxton with Roger Tallmadge and Lieutenant Manners. After they had stabled their mounts at Safford’s King’s Arms, Hugh led his companions on a leisurely tour of the town. He nodded in greeting to townsmen who knew him, including Reece Vishonn, who rode by on horseback. The master of Enderly touched his hat in recognition of Hugh, but seemed to frown in confused, doubting recollection of one of the gentlemen with him.

  “I don’t know if I should be your guide on this tour, Roger,” said Hugh as they strolled down one of the “sidewalks” that was a gift of his to the town. “You may conclude that Caxton would be a peerless venue for a camp of occupation.”

  Roger glanced at his friend, unsure of the humor of the remark. But, he reciprocated with, “Hardly, Hugh. I have studied my maps. Not even Yorktown would suit that purpose. In a circumstance of force majeure, the army and navy would need to act in complement to each other. So, a camp would be established closer to that sea you folks call Chesapeake Bay, say, in the easternmost part of Hampton. There the army could procure supplies from Crown warehouses, and from the navy itself. Vessels could more readily transport troops to places where they were needed. And, the navy could more easily impose authority over the waterways and towns along them. It’s quite a perfect place to headquarters such a presence. It is no accident of design that the navy and Customs make it a permanent rendezvous. Who controls the Roads, controls all, from Norfolk to Baltimore town.”

  Lieutenant Manners, who walked behind them, opined, “Besides, sir, how could His Majesty’s army be one of ‘occupation’ in his own country? It i
s a very strange perspective you voice.”

  Hugh turned to the officer as he continued on. He said with icy cordiality, “It has been another country for some time, Lieutenant. It is my hope that it can be reunited with the Crown under more felicitous terms.”

  “Of course, sir,” replied the officer, startled. He did not venture again to contradict or correct his host.

  Hugh asked Roger, “You have exchanged more words with him than I have, or would ever want to, Roger, and so you must have a better understanding of his character. Do you think the Governor would abdicate his appointment, as Governor Hutchinson has in Massachusetts?”

  Tallmadge smiled. There was another instance of his friend’s troubling sentiments, his employment of the term abdicate, as though Thomas Hutchinson had been a king. “No,” he answered, “I do not think he would resign. He is quite determined to stay on here. He has bought property all about this region, I understand, and sees many other advantages of a personal nature, though he would pursue them in the name of the Crown. He is a man inclined to govern, whatever the cost. And if he cannot govern, I am afraid he could be very…vindictive.”

  “I am willing to credit you the assessment.”

  “Thank you. And, you forget that Mr. Hutchinson was a scholar, and an historian, and not of a combative nature, except in chambers, and then only as a fumbling sneaksby. His Excellency Lord Dunmore, however, is of more imperial mettle. I can promise you that if there is trouble here the likes of which occurred in Boston, he will be very blunt, poetically and literally, in his response.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that,” replied Hugh.

  Roger asked, “When will I meet this famous friend of yours, Hugh? Mr. Frake? You’ve written to me so much about him for so long. Is he still a ‘Son of Liberty’?”

  Hugh nodded. “As am I,” he replied. “I queried his wife on the matter, Roger, and was obliged to tell her why you are here. I am afraid a meeting will not be possible.”

  Roger guessed the reason, and did not pursue the subject. They had walked the length of Caxton, and now stood on the rise on Queen Anne Street that marked the bluff overlooking the riverfront. “Does this county boast a committee of correspondence?” asked the officer. “Many of the counties Mr. Manners and I have passed through seem to be ruled by them.”

  “Not yet,” Hugh sighed. “Caxton is predominantly loyal, as is most of the county.” He shook his head. “However, I am sure that the Governor’s dissolution of the Assembly will spur the creation of one in Williamsburg. He has left the colony without a government, and something must replace the one he dissolved.”

  “That’s as may be,” Roger said. “However, I am obliged to note in my final report the excesses of these committees complained of by many a subject. They smack of mob rule. Many chaps have been ruined because they did not sign this or that petition, and had their goods or houses burned, or themselves subjected to physical abuse.” On a more apologetic note, he added, “If I am to submit a report that reflects the temper of the situation here, I cannot but include those episodes.”

  Hugh shrugged. “It would be your duty, Roger. Caxton and Queen Anne here have fortunately been spared that unseemly behavior. I do not believe in bullying a man into agreement with a cause, however worthy it may be.”

  “Given the sentiments I read in the Association broadside, I am surprised that you are still serving tea.”

  Hugh was startled by the observation, and recalled also Etáin serving him the beverage earlier in the day. “What chests of it we have will be the last we will enjoy, unless we can lay hands on some Dutch tea.”

  Standing also on the bluff, across Queen Anne Street from them, near the edge of Sheriff Cabal Tippet’s backyard, was Reverend Albert Acland, pastor of Stepney Parish Church. The minister glanced now and then at the trio. He did not attempt to greet Hugh and his companions. Hugh had no interest in introducing the minister, and did not wonder much about the man’s presence. He ignored the man, as he had for years. The man had grown more rancid over time; he had heard that his sermons had become more and more indictments of anyone who defied Crown authority, equating that defiance with defiance of God and the church.

  Hugh grimaced in distaste at the recollection, and pointed out the warehouses, billets and offices below them, and the piers of the principal plantations up and down the river. In time, they noticed a frigate-sized vessel coming up the York. “I don’t recognize that one,” remarked Hugh.

  “I can make out her name,” said Roger. “It’s the Fowey.”

  “I wonder where it’s headed. Probably for West Point to rummage some home or warehouse for contraband.”

  “Twenty guns, and I see marines on deck,” commented Lieutenant Manners.

  Roger said, “Speaking of rummaging, Hugh, I encountered one of your fellow planters at the ball, the gentleman we saw earlier. The master of a place called Enderly. He was bitter in his cups, but lucid enough to echo your own sentiments, after a fashion. His comments on the Governor were refreshingly indecorous.”

  “Ah. Mr. Vishonn. Well, he is bitter. The progress of the empire has disappointed him, and nearly ruined him. Some time ago the Customs caught him transporting lumber and iron bar from his mine in the Piedmont to Philadelphia, in his own vessel, without having declared it for tax, and misrepresenting the amounts on the cocket, and consequently fined him severely.”

  They watched the Fowey glide past the riverfront up the York, and when the warship was at a distance, saw crewmen begin to climb the shrouds. “I do believe they are about to take in sail,” remarked Roger. “The captain means to stop somewhere up there.”

  “It is beginning to heave to larboard,” said Hugh, watching the warship angle towards the riverfront. “I wonder…. ” Then he turned to his friend. “Roger, we must go. I am certain this means no good. We must return to Meum Hall.”

  “Of course.” Roger and the lieutenant watched their host walk quickly back up Queen Anne Street, heading back to the stables. The two officers followed.

  Reverend Acland watched them go, and cackled. He watched the Fowey as it slowed, and as crewmen began to prepare a galley boat to lower on its larboard side.

  * * *

  Reverdy, in her upstairs music room, did not observe the Fowey as it glided past the pier of Meum Hall. She was engrossed in a copy of Gentleman’s Magazine, which she could not give her full attention. The pressing question of whether or not to begin preparing for a journey to England distracted her thoughts. Dilch happened to pass the window in the course of tidying up the room for the private performance that her mistress planned to give her master’s guests. She stopped in amazement, because she had never seen a warship come this far up the York River. “Milady,” she said, more confused than alarmed, “a ship with many guns has just gone up the river.”

  Reverdy rose and joined her maidservant at the window. The warship was now drifting in the vicinity of the pier of Morland Hall. She saw a galley boat being lowered down one of its sides, and men on the deck waiting to descend the rope ladder to board it once it was in the water. A number of the men wore red coats. An anchor was being lowered from the bow, and crewmen in the shrouds were adjusting the sails to counteract the prevailing winds. “Dilch, ask Bilico to prepare the riding chair.” Bilico was a stable-hand.

  “Is it trouble, milady?”

  “It may be, Dilch. Hurry.”

  Dilch swept from the room.

  * * *

  At Morland Hall, Etáin had interrupted her task of transcribing Haydn’s “Serenade” to go to the kitchen and instruct Mary Beck what to prepare for supper, when Henry Dakin, the cooper, and Mouse, his young black assistant, came rushing in. “Mrs. Frake! There’s a navy ship just dropped anchor off of Mr. Frake’s pier!” exclaimed Dakin. “They’ve lowered a boat and marines are climbing into it!”

  Etáin rushed outside from the kitchen and around the corner. Over the trees that lined the riverfront lawn she saw the tops of the ship’s masts. Dakin, Mouse, and the k
itchen staff had followed her out. She turned to face them. “Henry! Go and warn everyone! Tell them to come to the house! Mouse! Take a horse and ride to Yorktown and tell Mr. Frake! He’s at the Swan Inn there! Go!”

  Mouse bobbed his head once. “Yes, ma’am!” The boy bolted away for the stables.

  Henry Dakin’s eyes were wide with worry. “Mrs. Frake, do you think they know about the new cellar?” He had helped his employer dig, insulate, and stock the secret arms cache.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Dakin. Please hurry! The more people who stand in their way, the less likely they will want to make trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” The cooper nodded once and rushed away on his mission.

  Etáin calmly instructed Mary Beck and her servants to continue preparing tonight’s supper, then walked briskly to the small house near the front lawn that was the home of Obedience Robbins, the business agent, and William Hurry, the overlooker and steward. The two men were sitting at a table in the common room, smoking their pipes. She saw that she was interrupting a card game. She said, “We are about to be called on by some marines, sirs, and probably by Customsmen. A navy ship has stopped at our pier.”

  After a moment, Robbins asked, “The cellar?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Robbins.”

  The two men glanced at each other, then slapped down their cards and rose to retrieve their muskets. “Well, Mrs. Frake,” said Hurry over his shoulder as he left the room, “the least we can do for uninvited guests is to give them a warmish welcome!”

  “If you have a spare musket, I’ll take one, as well, gentlemen.”

  Hurry stopped at the door and glanced at his colleague. He said, “All that’s spare is a fowling piece, Mrs. Frake, and all it’s ever brought down are foxes, squirrels and pilfering hawks.”

  Etáin shook her head once. “Then it may need to notch a Customsman or two.”

  * * *