Halestorm

by Becky Akers

  Guy was busy from morning to night, as the store of British sterling beneath his mattress attested. He had rented a room on Queen Street, a cramped chamber furnished with a bed, chair, and desk. Every surface was piled with papers: lists of matters competing for his attention, schedules of payment, inventories. He lived meanly, with no luxuries and meals grabbed in taverns.

  But a sense of urgency drove him. The war could not rage much longer. Within the last fortnight, since the catastrophe on Long Island, the rebels’ ranks had dwindled, and the few troops remaining would not scare a virgin. Emaciated, racked with fever, a defeated look to them, half could barely stagger off their pallets, let alone march to battle. Once Howe descended on York Island with his Redcoats and Hessians, the thing would be over, as would the demand for gunpowder.

  In the scant weeks left, then, Guy would work tirelessly to reap his profits.

  And when the government quashed the rebellion...! Guy spent his time aboard the ferry staring into the water and contemplating the future. He would return in triumph to Coventry, arrayed in silks and satin, his pockets bulging with coin, his farm reclaimed, cleared and planted by gangs of hired men. Perhaps a grateful king would even appoint him to rule the province. The present governor was a disgrace with his support for the rebels, and in all of Connecticut, there were few Loyalists. None had Guy’s record of service to His Majesty.

  As one of his first official acts, Guy would exile Nathan Hale. Better yet, he would imprison all the Hale men and appropriate their land. Ah, and there came Alice, a very surprised Alice, for his patriotism had cozened her, to beg an audience with him and plead for their release.

  “I shall grant them clemency,” he would say, “all but Nathan, if you become my mistress.”

  “Governor Daggett, please, you needn’t bribe me.” She would smile behind her fan, flutter her lashes. “I’ve finally realized you’re twice the man my brother is. And so powerful, and handsome, and rich. I’m only sorry it took me such a long time to see it. Here, let me unbutton those breeches for you and show you how sorry I am.”

  The ferry creaked across the river as Guy dreamed and smiled.

  CHAPTER 13

  She should have joined Nathan long ago, not tarried until he was sick with fever, Alice chided herself as she waited for the family to settle into sleep. She had set out to find him two months ago only to meet the Deacon at the end of the lane, but she should have tried again, especially once they received word of his illness. Asher’s second letter had arrived first, cushioning the blow when the one telling them Nathan was dying came three days later. She could even be proud as she read that an officer had recruited Nathan for his crack corps, though she was still worried beyond sense. This time, she would not make the mistakes she had the last: nothing would keep her from him.

  Alice had hidden her clothes in the hollow tree behind the privy, and for the past week, she had used the necessary at night instead of her chamber pot. Sometimes she had gone out there when there was no need. So had she taught the Deacon, and Joanna, with whom she shared a bed, and anyone awake in the wee hours, to assume that squeaking floorboards meant she was answering Nature. If someone spied her on her way to the necessary, she would be dressed in her nightclothes because she would not change until she was inside it. She had wrapped the miniature of Nathan in her spare petticoat along with the few pounds cash she had on hand and the silver spoons inherited from Elijah’s grandmother, which she would sell as her money ran out. This bundle awaited her in the woods down the road, where she had hidden it yesterday.

  She had never travelled further than twenty miles before, and beneath her anxiety was excitement that she was setting out, alone, to hunt the Continental Army. New York City lay somewhere to the south, though she was vague about how many miles stretched between her and it. But she shrugged off such concerns. General Washington, however brave and brilliant he was, could not hide an army. And even if he could, New York, with its 25,000 citizens, must be easy to find. She would ride south until she came to a fabulous city or a group of brave, handsome Continentals in smart uniforms.

  And once she had journeyed all that way to nurse Nathan, he must marry her! She imagined their wedding, the boom of the cannon fired in their honor, the clinking goblets with which his brother officers would toast them. They would probably insist on a dinner and dance, too. Alice had heard of the fetes with which Yorkers celebrated every occasion, their collations of sweetmeats. Surely the nuptials of the dashing Captain Hale would command a party to rival all others. She fell asleep smiling at herself as Nathan’s bride and woke hours later.

  She stumbled from bed, cursing her stupidity. How could she have slept at such a time? But perhaps it wasn’t too late: outside her window, the eastern sky showed no roses or purples. She arranged the pillows and sheet so that at a glance she seemed still to be lying there. Joanna, who rested soundly as the dead, never stirred.

  She crept downstairs, daring to breathe when she reached the last step without a sound. The hall clock showed only twenty past one, thank Heaven. She slipped to the door and let herself onto the stoop. She did not linger for a last look, though she doubted she would see this house again. It might be years before she returned, and they would have finished the new dwelling by then. Indeed, its wooden frame and chimneys already rose beside the current one, spectral in the moonlight.

  The night was uncomfortably warm and too still. She was certain that the slightest noise would rouse the Deacon. She reminded herself that she had done nothing so far, that she was only going to the necessary, and turned toward it.

  She retrieved her clothes and changed in the outhouse. It was hard to push her hair under her riding wig and black silk tricorn without a looking glass, but at last she was satisfied. Then she hurried to the barn, skirting the new house. Unaccountably, it made her shudder to pass beneath its shadows. She worked the barn’s door open and ran down the aisle to Nellie’s stall.

  The horse was asleep, though she woke with a snort when Alice stroked her forehead. “Come on, Nellie girl.”

  She put the bit in Nellie’s mouth and led her to the door. She would make her escape bareback because she doubted she could heave a saddle high enough for Nellie. Then, too, it would be quieter, with no creaking leather.

  As they left the barn, Alice checked the house. All was peaceful. No lamplight flared, no angry Deacon hollered from the porch. She led Nellie through the muffling dirt of the yard and the grass along the lane. At the road, she mounted and galloped to the copse where lay her bundle. She had three hours before the Deacon or one of the boys would head for the barn to feed the stock. Then the cry would go up that Nellie was missing, and when they discovered a bridle was gone, too, they would check Alice’s bed. She wanted as many miles as possible between her and home when that moment came.

  It took her a week to travel from Coventry to New York City, a week filled with unpleasant surprises and constant humbling. She had thought her greatest challenge lay in eluding her stepfather, but that was the easiest. More distressing was the impassible road, rutted and blocked by fallen trees, which petered out into wilderness only to resume on the far side of a swamp, or the suspicion that greeted her when she stopped at a farmhouse for directions. Two or three of the women who answered her knock threatened to lock her in their cellars, so strenuously did they implore her to quit pursuing the army.

  “Bah! They’s thieves, all of ’em,” one housewife said. “Marched through here on their way down from Boston, and lookit what they done: took all my chickens, good layers they was, too, and give me this piece of paper. ‘Here’s your receipt,’ they told me, like it’s going to give me eggs for my breakfast.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alice rubbed her nose where the sun was blistering it. She would be as speckled and brown as those purloined eggs by the time she reached Nathan. But her green silk mask lay forgotten in her drawer at home. “Could you tell me where to pick up the road again?”

  “Listen, honey, you turn around
and go back to your folks. No sweet little girl should put herself at the mercy of rascals like them.”

  “Ma’am, please, I—”

  “Well, you won’t listen to reason, least let me feed you afore you leave. Ain’t nothing don’t look better on a full stomach, I always say.”

  Alice slept under the stars every evening except the first. That night, she stayed in a tavern. But the keeper and his wife asked so many questions that she avoided such places after that. Besides, camping outdoors would prepare her for military life because it strengthened her against the miasmas that everyone knew poisoned the night’s air. If Nathan wanted to remain with the army after their marriage, she could live in the open without concern, as her friend Susannah Campbell did with her husband.

  On the sixth day, Alice noticed a brown streak along the horizon. As Nellie plodded closer, she surmised it rose from thousands of people stirring up dust and burning cook-fires. This had to be the army or New York City. She hoped it was both and rode all evening. But at nightfall, she was still in open country.

  She crossed a bridge the next morning and had not gone far before she encountered her first serious trouble. Rounding a bend, she found three men she took for brigands playing dice in the middle of the path. She wheeled Nellie about to flee. A shout stopped her.

  “Hey, lady, you let that horse take another step and I’ll blast her butt. Now you get down offa there, you hear?”

  “Aw, come on, Jake. Can’t you see she don’t mean no harm?” A man with scantily powdered black hair spoke as she dismounted and faced them.

  Jake trained his musket on her. He was a lanky sort with as tattered a coat and hat as she had seen. His companions, as dirty as he but wearing buckskin instead of rags, gaped. The black-haired one smiled, and her heart failed. Oh, lord, they would murder her and steal her money, and Nathan would never know how she had tried to reach him.

  “Please,” she said, but Nellie whinnied, drowning her voice.

  The smiler doffed his hat with an extravagant flourish and bowed. “Who you be for, ma’am? King or Liberty?”

  These were picky thieves who wanted to know the allegiance of their victim. She stared, bewildered, and Jake motioned with his musket. “Come on, lady. Quick, answer Silas there. What’s your business? You a Loyalist or a friend of America?”

  “I—I am Alice Ripley, from Connecticut—” she said stupidly, and the third man lost interest.

  “Oh, Connecticut,” he said, dropping to the ground and retrieving his dice. “Ain’t a Loyalist in that whole province, leastways in the east part there ain’t. You from east or west Connecticut, did you say?”

  “It ain’t a province anymore,” Jake said. “How many times I got to tell you? We’re states now. His Excellency announced it coupla months ago, remember?”

  Understanding came to her, as scary as the idea that these men were robbers, intent on her silver. “Are you with the Continental Army?”

  “Why, sure, ma’am. What’d you think?” Three sets of puzzled eyes stared at her.

  “I—I thought—oh, it doesn’t matter. Please, can you help me then? I’m looking for Captain Nathan Hale.”

  The sentries exchanged glances. Jake shook his head and belched. “Don’t recollect no Captain Hale, lady. You know what regiment he’s with?”

  “He’s from Connecticut, from Coventry. He’s very ill—I’ve got to find him.” She remembered a name from Asher’s letter. “He’s with a Colonel Knowlton.”

  “I heard of them,” said Silas. “That’s that Knowlton’s Rangers. They’s kinda special, under command of His Excellency hisself. But they’s in a skirmish few days ago, and Knowlton got kilt, I think.”

  She shivered from head to toe. Had Nathan been in that skirmish? Or was he still abed?

  Silas gave her another smile. “Hey, Jake, whyn’t I take her to Headquarters? They’ll probably know right where her feller is.”

  “Ain’t that just like you, Silas?” The third picket shook his dice. “Always first to volunteer for hazardous duty.”

  Jake snorted but waved Silas on nonetheless. “Just hurry on back here, though. I ain’t losing to this son of a b—um, sorry, lady—all by my lonesome.”

  Silas seemed to have no mount and also seemed to think Alice would share Nellie with him. He led the horse to a fallen tree by the roadside and bolted onto her back, then offered a grimy hand to Alice. She tried not to recoil nor to touch him more than was necessary as she clambered up behind. Please don’t let me get lice, please don’t let me vomit from his odor, please don’t let him see how he disgusts me, she prayed as Silas guided Nellie into the woods.

  “Shorter to cut through here than take the road,” he said. “You come all the way down here from Connecticut by yourself?”

  For all his filth, Silas chatted politely as they picked their way through the trees and the dismaying sights. Trash littered the ground: dead dogs and horses, broken flintlocks, soiled bandages, gnawed bones. Here and there, a crude headstone announced some poor soldier buried amidst the squalor. Alice could hardly believe this was the Continental Army, especially when they entered the camp itself. Instead of the rows of white tents she had pictured, there were haphazard huts, lean-tos, and holes scratched in the dirt with blankets stretched on branches overhead.

  Even worse were the inhabitants. Though some were reasonably clean, and one or two boasted uniforms, most were as dirty as Silas. They dressed in rags, hair unpowdered and uncombed. Those who had a musket dragged or carried it according to whim. Alice’s heart sank lower with each of Nellie’s steps. This was the army in which Nathan was a captain? The army that would drive the Redcoats back to England?

  “Are we in New York City?” she asked.

  “No’m. Howe chased us out of there about four, five days ago. This here’s York Island, but the city’s six mile south of here.”

  They reached headquarters, not the stone fort she had imagined when Silas mentioned it, but somebody’s home, and a wealthy one at that, with fanlight, pediment, and banks of windows. Pickets rather than carriages and callers ringed it now. A young man, neatly attired in the nicest uniform she had yet seen, sat at a desk in the yard. Piles of paper lay before him, and when he wasn’t riffling through them, he was directing the stream of traffic up and down the portico’s stairs.

  Silas brought Nellie to a halt a few paces from the desk. He dismounted and saluted the man, who was scrutinizing them. “Lieutenant, the lady there’s looking for a captain with Knowlton’s Rangers.”

  The officer rose as Silas stepped back to Nellie’s side and helped Alice off the horse. She offered her hand to the lieutenant, who bowed over it and said, “Honor to have you visit our camp. I only wish our arrangements were in keeping with your beauty.”

  “Thank you, sir. ’Tis an honor to—to meet the men who, um, defend our liberty.” She curtsied impatiently. Now that she had found the army, she was wretched with eagerness for her reunion with Nathan. His arms around her, his blue eyes beaming his love, his strong voice calling her “Ally,” all beckoned irresistibly. They alone could wipe out the fears and horrid sights of this last week. “Sir, I’m looking for Captain Nathan Hale, with Knowlton’s, ah—”

  “Rangers,” Silas said.

  The lieutenant glanced at him. “Soldier, you have leave to return to your post. As for you, ma’am, I’m sure His Excellency will want to see you.”

  “His Excellency?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he’s the best man to talk to about any of the Rangers, now that Colonel Knowlton’s dead. Anyway, he’d have me shot if as beautiful a lady as you came looking for one of the Rangers and I had her talk with anyone else.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t possibly bother him.”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am. He won’t find it a bother. This way, please.” The lieutenant took her elbow and guided her toward the house.

  Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, she saw a spacious hall that ran from the entrance to a parlor at the rear. A fe
w rooms opened off each side. Voices murmured from behind the first door on the left. The lieutenant opened a door to the right and ushered her into a chamber with blue woodwork, shuttered windows, an arched alcove at the rear. “Please wait here while I summon His Excellency. Sorry I can’t provide some refreshment, but we’re low on supplies. Excuse me.” He shut the door, and Alice was alone.

  Ordinarily, she would have been agog to meet General Washington, the man around whom much of the war revolved. He had captured the imagination of everyone she knew; folks in Coventry nigh worshipped him. Though with the defeats he had suffered, first on Long Island and then here in New York a few days ago, when the enemy captured the city, some hinted he might be mortal after all. But she wanted only Nathan. She had no interest in speaking with anyone else.

  She heard a step in the hall and turned as the lieutenant opened the door again. The tallest man Alice had ever seen, taller even than the Deacon, stepped into the room.

  He was majestic, despite his stoop to keep from banging his head on the lintel. His gray eyes gave his face a tender humanity though his lips held a stern line. He lightly powdered his hair, with the velvet ribbon that drew it behind his neck peeping out on either side. His buff and blue uniform was impeccable, and she saw that this man compensated for what the rest of the army lacked.

  He apparently felt she atoned for much as well. His eyes twinkled as he bowed and said, in a gentle but commanding voice that sang with Virginia’s lilt, “Your servant, madam. Lieutenant Thomas tells me you’re seeking Captain Hale—a most fortunate young man if that’s so.”

  She smiled at his courtliness. “Yes, General, I am, sir.” Her forehead puckered. “He’s very sick, sir. I came to be with him, to nurse him. I understand he’s with Knowlton’s Rangers.”

  His twinkle disappeared, and she put a hand to her throat and cried, “He’s—he’s not—not dead, is he?”