Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 ..

by Taylor, Winchcombe

  In October, the convention with Governor Sanchez was signed, and in November Oglethorpe sailed for home, taking the document with him.

  "You're senior officer now," he had told Ram. "Horton has no military' experience, but he's great common sense and he'll keep order on St. Simon's. And Hugh Mackay's valuable—he'll have a company in my regiment, if I get it. Above all, should the spy work strain your purse, pray draw on mine."

  On Ram's return to Shoreacres, Nell was duly wedded. Groom Yarrow had built a hut near Fort Argyle, and happily they went to it.

  Emma still taught the children, but spoke to Ram only once, when she demanded, "What of my brother? I still think ye murdered him."

  "My men put him aboard a Bordeaux-bound ship. Ask them," he retorted. "It's time he wrote."

  But if Wall didn't write, he thought irately, what to do with her? Her presence embarrassed him, for she reminded him of the other Irish girl he had harmed so callously.

  One day, after a ride, he went toward his study to rest before supping. Emma was writing in the dining hall as he passed through, but ignored him. Used to her sulkiness, he entered his sanctum, sprawled in a deep chair and soon dozed.

  "Here, master, I've brought ye beer."

  Opening his eyes, he saw the girl beside him wnith a tankard.

  "Thankee, child." Though surprised, he reached for it. Yet she seemed reluctant to release it and, eyes wide, stared at him search-ingly before she let it go.

  "Mighty thoughtful of ye, lass." He raised it to his lips.

  She screamed.

  Startled, he slopped beer down his waistcoat.

  "Don't touch it!" she moaned. "No, no!"

  He cursed. Another of her tantrums? "Mrs. B!" he bawled. Begod, this is the end. I'll pack her off to Savannah—anywhere!

  "There's . . . something in it!" she gasped. "He said 'twould make you more kindly to me, but now I'm afeared!"

  "What tale's this?" He caught her wrists. "Who's 'he'?"

  "The Jew doctor!" she wailed. "He asked if I'd anyone I loved, and I said I loved Michael, who was far away. Then he asked if my master was kind, and I said no, he hated me. So he gave me the powder and said to put it in your drink and you'd relent, and soon I'd be back with Michael. Oh, he's the evil one indeed!"

  Jew doctor—Spanish doctor?

  "When did you see him? Where?"

  "This mom. He said he'd rode from lying-in a woman at the fort."

  Ram knew of only one Jewish doctor in the colony. Dr. Nunez of Savannah, he who had saved so many during the epidemic. Surely he couldn't be actually the Spaniard and a spy!

  "Girl, d'ye swear this is true?"

  "By our Holy Mother! Oh, I want to be back with Michael and I hate you Sasanachs. But ye've not treated me ill, as ye once said ye would, and I'd not want ye harmed."

  Taking the tankard into the kitchen, he told Maria to pour the beer into a bottle and cork it firmly. As she did, he saw a white substance on the bottom, scraped it out carefully and added it to the bottle's liquid.

  With it he rode fast to Savannah, where he called upon Bailiff Parker, who would be fair-minded about the Jews.

  "Major, we've Christian physicians here who rant about the Jew," the magistrate said, "but were my life endangered, I'd call for him." They went to the elderly physician who, upon hearing Ram's tale, said gravely: "I've never had the honor of visiting your plantation, sir, nor have I ever gone to Fort Argyle. I'm no man-midwife, save in emergency, nor do I give love potions to silly maids." But not until other town officials and the most prominent of his co-religionists were present, would he begin his tests on the white sediment.

  At last he looked up tiredly. "Major, Jahveh has watched over you. This is arsenic."

  All, Hebrew and Gentile, swore that the alleged doctor had never been seen in Savannah. Ram was sure then that these murder attempts were against him personally, and not because of his military status. It seemed incredible, yet . . . !

  He was not long kept in doubt, for a letter arrived from Cuba. "Dominguez y Cia is the cover by which el Baron del Lago receives intelligence reports. Soon I'll send for Emm^z, but if you've harmed her, III seek ye out. Michael Wall, Captain of Engineers."

  "Captain, I summoned you because I find you correspond with the enemy." Brian's tone was cold.

  Color drained from Wall's face. "I—don't understand. Excellence, What am I accused of?"

  Brian took a letter from a drawer. "Do you deny you have a sister in the hands of one of Oglethorpe's chief officers?"

  "I—Excellence, if I may be permitted to explain . . ." Michael plunged on, brain whirling. Great God, what had happened?

  Brian listened, then interrupted. "Here is your alleged sister's letter. We examine all mail coming from the English colonies."

  Wall's tension eased as he read Emma's letter. She was unharmed, thank God! He'd only to send for her and they'd be reunited.

  Then stark fear stabbed him. This high official at the table, it was he whose identity he had betrayed.

  "When you arrived lately from Spain, Captain," Brian was saying, "you came well recommended. Before that, you left your post at Charles Town for Bordeaux. Thence you went to Bayonne for an audience with the Spanish Queen Dowager. She recommended you to Don Patino."

  "Yes, Excellence." Wall swallowed hard. "I was once page to Her Majesty, who later obtained an appointment for me as an officer in the Irlandia Regiment. But after the war I was dismissed, so had to find a living to keep my many sisters."

  Brian nodded brusquely. "In Charles Town you had duties to carry out without question. Yet you scorned to kill Anstruther yourself, and gave the task to a fool who ended as a waterlogged corpse. Serior, we do not approve of such squeamishness."

  "I am a gentleman, not an assassin."

  "Gentleman! When our cause needs, the highest may not shrink from removing an enemy. At this very moment the recent governor of St. Augustine occupies a dungeon here because he permitted himself to be tricked into a convention with Oglethorpe that has all but ruined Spain's claim to Georgia. He's soon sailing for Spain, to be tried as a traitor. I may send you with him. Now, what did you barter with Anstruther for your sister's freedom?"

  Wall looked ghastly. "Excellence, nothing of importance."

  "Fool! You're already suspect, for your wild scheme of leading troops through hundreds of miles of wilderness to capture Savannah and Charles Town! A stupid governor may die swiftly, but a traitor captain's end could be exceedingly slow and painful."

  God keep him from the truth! In desperation. Wall countered: "Excellence, my plan's not wild. By keeping to the forests, we could surprise the English. In '15, didn't they themselves march south to crush the Yamasees? And in '02, Governor Moore attacked St. Augustine by land. Sir, I—"

  "Enough! Those were small parties. Today, Oglethorpe has forts near the San Juan. It would need an army alone to bridge a score of rivers for guns and stores. No, only with a fleet to destroy the island forts could we invade. Again, what exchange did you make for your sister's liberty?"

  Wall's wall broke. "The identity of Dominguez y Cia."

  Brian's knuckles whitened. At last he spoke: "Oglethorpe's mother was also a Wall, and she fought lifelong with her wits for Ireland— yet you betray it! But, of course, you're really an Englishman— Seiior Savage!"

  "I'm not—Savage was but my stepfather's name!" Michael half screamed. "I'll have ye know my ancestors raised a regiment for the French service sixty years before there ever was a brigade. Our blood's stained every field where the Saxon was to be met."

  "That I'm aware of, since I serA'ed with many Walls. Now, why did Anstruther demand my cover's identity?"

  "He's Oglethorpe's spy officer!" Wall gritted. "After Bacon's failure, he found me and threatened torture unless I discovered your true name. The torture and the hanging to follow I'd have borne,

  but he took Emma hostage and swore unless I obeyed, he'd debauch her!"

  "Dhial" Brian sprang up. "Yes, he's g
ood at such infamy! But you, the matter's now out of my hands. You return to Spain as a fellow prisoner with Sanchez. And despite your queen patron, I fear the grave awaits you." Ignoring Wall's mad glare, he strode into the patio. Anstruther again—and now aware of his work! Well, this made the score between them official as well as personal. But surely by now others had succeeded where Wall and Bacon had failed!

  In January, Ram knew he had an heir: Richard, hale and large, and sucking his foster-mother like a hungry colt. But he hadn't been born at Dalesview. It would have been madness, Lucinda wrote, to have gone so far from London's famous man-midwife. Dr. Jerrikin. As it was, she was quite ruined, and feared she would never regain her figure. She was sure he would understand.

  But Sue wrote bluntly that Lucinda had never intended coming home for the birth which, she now knew, had been in October and not, as Ram had anticipated, in November. Such premature babes needed the care that only loving kin could give, yet Lucinda had preferred London strangers. As for Rob, he'd scoured all the Riding for hands, who'd soon be sailing, together with a dozen more Dalesview mares and stallions. He'd since drawn his mine profits and gone to London.

  So exultant Ram gave a feast to celebrate his heir's birth and began counting days till Lucinda would bring his son to him.

  In April a brigantine arrived at Tybee and was piloted down to Shoracres. From it landed twelve sturdy Yorkshiremen, most with young families, and nine red-cheeked girls come to find spouses. And with the horses were also some fine black cattle.

  No further word coming from Cuba, Emma drooped, sure that her brother no longer wanted her. Ram's own belief was that her letter had been intercepted and that Wall was in trouble. Had he himself the power, he'd certainly examine all mails from Spanish sources. His own spy net was growing, though one of his best agents had vanished and was thought to be in prison.

  As for Oglethorpe, his first letter was glowing: Though he'd narrowly escaped shipwreck on the North Devon coast, his "friend"

  was still kind, and Parliament had voted Georgia the largest appropriation thus far.

  But his August letter was bitter: He'd just "kissed hands" for his commission as commander in chief of all His Majesty's forces to be in Georgia and South Carolina, and as captain of the Independent company now there. But Walpole, fearing he might touch off war by his squabbles with St. Augustine, had forced him to take a lieutenant colonel of the government's choosing; one who was sure "to keep his head." He added furiously:

  "He's a political: James Cochrane of BisseVs Foot, an old Soldier but never fought. Was made Captain in '16 and remained so till now he's jumped two grades to be my millstone. And I've been given my major, William Cooke, made a lieutenant in 'o-j, though I choose the rest of my officers."

  To expedite recruiting, all the corporals and privates of Roth's Foot at Gibraltar, most of whom spoke Spanish, were being drafted into the regiment. In conclusion, James wrote:

  "It's sore not to have ye my second, but as I'm General of both Provinces, if it unll content ye, I'll appoint ye Coll of Militia and my chief Staff Officer. Your King's captaincy, I recall, dates from '1^, so yell be senior to all.

  yr most grieved but aff'ate friend, J. Oglethorpe."

  It was a blow. Yet as a militia colonel he would serve only in the colonies; as a regular he could be transferred anywhere. So he wrote acceptance; gave James news of events and asked that the trustees grant 500 acres contiguous to Shoreacres to Richard Anstruther, a minor, in trust with his father, who would provide ten servants to work on the land.

  But Lucinda's lengthening absence distressed him. As the year grew older her letters became briefer, though the bills she drew on him were heavier. He'd not want his son exposed to sea travel in stormy months, she pointed out, and 'twere better he were first weaned before sailing.

  Her extravagance so depleted his capital that projected work at Shoreacres had to be dropped. He became so strained to pay his agents and spies he had to draw on James who was, he knew, hard pressed by the cost of recruiting. But to obtain information was vital.

  Rob returned next spring, bringing a further dozen hands to break ground for Baby Diccon's plantation. He'd picked these haphazard in London and Bristol; but promised, if Joseph would train them as militiamen, he himself would make them into good farmhands.

  As for the baby, he was lyrical. "He's a rare 'un! Sturdy as a rock and an Anstruther through and through."

  "But when shall I see him?" Ram fretted.

  "Patience! As soon as he's weaned and sea travel's right."

  At last news of Wall, sent by the trustees. He and Augustine's ex-governor had arrived as prisoners at Madrid, and there was such fury at Sanchez' treaty with Oglethorpe that he was executed. But Wall, somehow, escaped and took refuge with the British minister, who smuggled him into Portugal and thence to London, He was now a state prisoner there and buying immunity by exposing Spanish plots in Europe and America.

  For a late bum-bailiff he's gone far, when two nations think him a traitor. Ram thought sardonically. But he broke the news to Emma gently enough, adding: " 'Twill be hard for him to care for you now, for he'll find no appointment where Britain or Spain rules."

  "It's because they made him do evil things, he failed," she said in proud extenuation. "We'll find welcome in France, and if worst comes he'll 'list as private in the Irish Brigade. Oh, sir, more than ever I must go to him . . . Please!"

  "Then go." He found it hard not to take her in his arms. She had pluck to return to a dishonored man. So he took her to Charles Town, engaged her passage and gave her fifty guineas as recompense for her two years of captivity. "God guard ye!" she choked. "I'll pray for ye all the days of my life." Sobbing, she clung to him and kissed him with all the unconscious passion of a child-woman.

  It's best she's gone, he told himself. She's a child no longer, and maybe I'd have forgot myself with her—and not in hate.

  He stopped at Savannah to confer with William Stephens, lately arrived as the Trust's secretary in Georgia. A former Member of Parliament, Stephens was somewhat pompous, but worked hard for the colony. But, aware that he wrote ever^'thing he heard in the journals he sent to the trustees. Ram told him very little about his intelligence work, being quite sure the trustees would disapprove.

  Just as he was about to return home next morning, Stephens' clerk reported to him that Lieutenant Colonel Cochrane had that moment arrived, leaving two troop transports down at Tybee.

  At last! Was James with them, was Lucinda too? At least there should be letters from her. But the clerk said no, this contingent had come from Gibraltar.

  Ram hurried to Stephens' house to meet Courtier Cochrane, whose florid face clashed with his coat and whose mouth was oddly feminine. Nearby stood Hugh Mackay, George Dunbar and a strange captain.

  "I've laid out a vast sum on the wine, for I b'lieve it should make a handsome profit," Cochrane was saying. "And there's the regiment's wine to be stored too."

  "We'll insure it's kept in fine condition," Stephens promised. Then, seeing Ram: "Sir, permit me to present ye to Colonel Cochrane, who's brought us nigh on three hundred regulars. Colonel, Colonel Anstruther."

  "Servant, sir," Ram bowed, "and welcome to Georgia." The newcomer's brows raised delicately. "Ah, yes, b'lieve the general spoke of you. A colony officer, hey?"

  "I've the honor of commanding the militia in the general's absence," Ram agreed.

  "You'll take orders from me henceforth. As senior King's oflScer, I command all troops here." Cochrane returned to discussing his wine with Stephens.

  Ram flushed; then, catching Mackay's droll look, went to him, "Well met, sir," the latter greeted. "Let me present Captain Norbury, who sailed with Mr. Cochrane, Mr. Dunbar and myself from London to Gib. to take over the men of Roth's assigned to us." Norbury, with a mahogany hue and a bulbous red nose, was typically a half-pay officer who'd been recalled to active servdce. "Servant, sir. Mr. Mackay tells me ye was reared in the Flanders wars. Alas, I fought in Spain, wh
ere we had no Duke John to win for us. But that won't stop us from splitting a bottle, hey?"

  Mackay pushed Dunbar forward. "Ye've met George before, but as

  a sea captain. Now he's a poor foot lieutenant, but seems to like it."

  "Not at the moment, Colonel," the ex-seaman grinned. "Our

  transport masters fear to sail directly to St. Simon's, and our naval

  commander sailed for Charles Town, taking one transport with him. Afraid of running ashore on our uncharted coast, he says. I could pilot 'em over the bar and safe into Frederica harbor; but, lud, they're too mighty to let a poor foot officer lead 'em!"

  Mackay asked Cochrane's leave to confer with Ram about transport. Receiving a preoccupied nod, he, Ram and the other two went outside. "What d'ye think of him?" he asked wr'ly. "Shows what years of dancing attendance at Court can do. I doubt he's served six months with troops all his life. Lucky some of us haven't had his advantages, or we'd never have got the men here."

  "I don't hold the King's commission, but I'm a grade higher than he in local rank," Ram fumed. "And I'll not have a jackanapes condescend as if I were a new-knotted corporal."

  "He does it to us all," Norbury growled. "Pox me, I was fighting before he was breeched; yet he treats me like a wet-eared ensign!"

  "He's a fellow Scot, but I like him none the more for that," Hugh shrugged. "Yet he's not so bad as he was. At first ye'd have thought he was Colonel Proprietor and Mr. Oglethorpe his subaltern. But now Walpole's losing ground, he's softer. For Bob's ever a fair-weather friend when things go amiss."

  "He's only here to make his fortune," Dunbar grumbled. "He got a five-hundred-acre grant, and another for his brother-in-law. Too, he plans to sell wine and goods to the troops at high profit! I hope the general comes soon."

  They spoke about chartering craft for the troops and stores.

  "Tom Parker's up in Massachusetts Colony, buying a schooner, but his piragua's here," Ram volunteered. "Matt Marrow's acting skipper, and he'll know where more craft can be got. Now, how are the men?"