‘Aye, we know, and an appropriate name it is too now. The locals in Pennington told us he had come out here to settle an old score – for he had been bragging about it in the taverns – but they had been too scared to help. We weren’t, and simply followed his tracks. We saw his horse tethered at the church gates, did the same with ours, and crept up while he was talking to Harry.’
‘But ‘tis not all our own work,’ said the lovely Melanie with great generosity.
‘Harry shot him first. Softened him up for us very well.’
‘What, my Harry?’ said Sophie, looking at me with a surprise that was not pleasing.
‘Aye, had his pistol been of better quality there would have been no need for us to interfere at all. He was laying the law down to Axelrod good and proper.’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Sophie, unaware of the plot I was hatching to divorce her, and marry the divine Melanie, ‘I am impressed.’
‘If only half our boys had Harry’s backbone – we would not be in the mess we are now,’ added Vanessa.
I blushed, and swelled with pride.
‘So is this rogue dead, or dying, or what?’ said Sophie, ending the awed contemplation of my being, and getting back to the matter in hand. ‘We should save him if we can. He will be worth more to our cause alive than dead. We can get General Lee back in exchange, for one thing.’
‘He is wounded, I believe, about the shoulder, neck, arm and leg,’ said Lucy, scrutinizing the body. ‘Nothing that a pint of hot grog and a couple of amputations won’t cure.’
Burnley groaned so pathetically at this news that even I felt a twinge of pity.
‘Ha ha. Only joking!’ added Lucy, revealing an hitherto unknown streak of cruelty. ‘He’ll be all right with a bit of patching up, assuming we can get him to our butchers quickly.’
‘And how are we to do that? They are over the Delaware with the army now, I presume.’
‘Fear not, Cousin Sophie,’ said Vanessa, ‘we have been in secret correspondence with other Daughters of Liberty groups, and they have arranged for us to be collected from a secret location about a mile above McKonkey’s Ferry. All we have to do is shout across the Delaware.’
‘My girls! I am so proud of you!’
There was another bout of hugging, and more emotional tears, while I pondered the rectitude of the decision to save Burnley’s life. From a personal point of view, I would have preferred to leave him to freeze to death in the snow, or have him despatched for good with a single shot to the head at point-blank range, but having been saved by the girls a second time ‘twas only right that their desires should hold sway. Besides, I now had a reputation as a Revolutionary Hero to live up to, and could not be seen to be a callous murderer, however much I was one at heart. I only hoped I would not live to regret it.
So the operation of removing to the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware began. Quick and Easy were retrieved from the church while the girls’ horses and Burnley’s finer horse were untied from the church gate. Burnley himself, still unable to do anything but groan, was bandaged up with whatever rags could be procured from the girls’ clothes, and then draped and tied over Quick. While all this was going on, I finally had the opportunity to ask Sophie how she had managed to send for the Belles, and why she had not informed me that she had done so.
‘’Twas when I went into Bound Brook that day. After hearing the news that the British were chasing Washington through New Jersey I knew we would be in trouble if we could not get to the Delaware before the armies did, so I begged pen, ink and paper from the apothecary I’d been talking to, and proceeded to feed him a cock and bull story about the need to contact a dear sister whose welfare was of the utmost concern to me. Then I wrote a letter to Lucy, telling her of our situation and the route we were taking, and asking if she could arrange via the usual secret channels to have a boat waiting for us when we got to the Delaware. Little did I expect the impressive turnout we saw today! In fact, I did not expect anything, because I was far from sure that the letter would even reach Lucy, post riders being sporadic to say the least. ‘Twas a desperate measure on my part, which is why I did not tell you about it. ‘Twould have been cruel to raise false hopes.’
‘But was such an action not dangerous, my dear? Supposing the post had been intercepted? We would have been done for along with Lucy and, after torture, the rest of the Liberty Belles.’
‘Aye, well, that was another reason I kept silent. Though the letter was in code, you know.’
‘Code? You told me nothing about a code.’
‘Of course not. ‘Twas Liberty business, and hence private.’
‘Was it a standard alphanumeric substitution cipher?’ I asked, professional interest piqued.
‘It might have been, if I knew what one was. Or I might have invented it straight out of my own head. Either way, ‘tis no business of yours, as I said.’
I wondered what else Sophie did not tell me, and began to pout.
‘But do not look so aggrieved, sweetness. I did it all for the good of our future together. And now that you have so manfully disposed of Mr Axelrod, that future is looking rosier by the second. Come here, you hero, you.’
An arm was looped around my neck, my head was pulled down to Sophie’s level, and I found myself engaged in a prolonged bout of osculation, much to the enjoyment of the variously scattered Belles, and the chagrin of Mr Axelrod, who continued to groan mightily at anything and everything.
But though I agreed with Sophie that our general position was temporarily rosier, I could not share fully in the mood of celebration. For one thing, I greatly wished that Burnley were dead. For another, I did not relish the prospect of encountering the Continental Army rabble again. The last time I had been in the hands of those rogues I had been almost hanged, and this time my position was even more precarious, because Burnley knew I was a spy and a deserter, and could inform them of it if he wanted to – as could the Hackensack Militia if their systems of secret correspondence were working properly. I wondered if I should confide my worries to Sophie, but she was riding with Lucy, catching up on the Hackensack gossip, and I did not want to spoil her enjoyment of the moment. So, sighing, I led Easy in the direction of the Delaware, and prayed that my part in the landing of such a colossal catch as Burnley Axelrod would work in my favour, and cancel out any lingering desires to hang me.
45
The Continental Army
Reaching the specified point on the banks of the Delaware River in the middle of the icy night, we all – with the obvious exception of Burnley – cupped our hands around our mouths and started shouting the guessable codeword Liberty! at the white bank opposite. Though the word stuck slightly in my craw, and came out more like Berty!, I was happy enough to assist in the general call for attention, especially when it occurred to me that being caught by the British with Burnley’s blood on our hands was even more dangerous than courting American help. Nevertheless Pennsylvania remained unresponsive to the pleas of four and a half patriots shouting Liberty! at it, and for thirty minutes our increasingly hoarse cries ricocheted around unanswered, until at last someone put an end to the absurdity of the situation.
‘Identify yourselves,’ called a black smudge across the river, ‘or we shall shoot.’
‘We are the Liberty Belles of Hackensack, New Jersey,’ called Sophie, ‘come to present General Washington with the finest Christmas present he could wish for.’
‘What, a new set of teeth?’ called the smudge back, to much laughter amongst his comrades. Heartened by this response, I looked to see what Sophie made of it. Her expression was one of delight; obviously the men’s Continental Army credentials made their irreverence acceptable. Had I uttered the same words myself, the response would have been very different. This was proof enough to me that she, and therefore Americans in general, had only exchanged one kind of snobbery for another.
‘No, the notorious British dragoon, Burnley ‘Bloody Burn’ Axelrod, the
rogue who captured General Lee.’
There was silence, and then the tiny crunch of feet turning to run.
‘No, come back, don’t worry. Axelrod is incapacitated. He is no threat to you.’
The footsteps came back cautiously.
‘How incapacitated?’
‘Very. He’s almost dead.’
‘A boat is on its way,’ shouted a different voice after a minute’s silence. ‘Bring him over. But carefully. ‘
The boat when it came was an enormous flat-bottomed thing, manned by six skeletons with unnaturally bright eyes. Glancing at them with horror, we clambered on, horses and all, and settled down for the return journey. After all the shouting there was a need to rest our voices, so the crossing was quiet until a rogue thought struck Sophie, and made her start up in alarm.
‘Oh my God, I have just realized something. I will soon be meeting the leading lights of this Revolution, Thomas Paine amongst them. And I must look a wretch!’
I groaned inwardly. No sooner had one potential rival been vanquished than a dozen more popped up.
‘I suspect none of them will be in the mood for dalliance, my dear,’ I advised wearily, as Sophie proceeded to alter if not improve her appearance with a flurry of cat licks. ‘And Thomas Paine never is, from what young Timothy was telling me about him. Smells like a slaveship at the best of times, apparently. Drinks like a fish too.’
I did not think it wise to mention all I knew of the prodigious Mr Paine, in case I exacerbated Sophie’s already considerable urge to have his child.
‘How he smells or drinks, Harry,’ reprimanded Lucy with revolutionary fervour, ‘is of no relevance whatsoever. ‘Tis what he does that counts; a concept that you will have to get used to if you are to stay on our side permanently. As Mr Franklin says, ask not what a man is, but what he can do.’
‘In that case,’ I countered, ‘’tis not important how Sophie looks, is it? ‘Tis what she has done that counts.’
‘Sophie is merely thrilled to be meeting our leaders,’ said Lucy, ignoring the question. ‘As indeed you should be.’
There was something horribly threatening in the tone of Lucy’s voice that implied denunciation if my apostasy continued. In the circumstances I had no alternative but to dissemble.
‘Why, I am, my dear. Thrilled. What makes you think otherwise?’
‘The remark about the intellectual engine of our glorious cause was not very complimentary.’
‘About who? Oh, Mr Paine, you mean. Well, I am not denigrating his considerable achievements, merely repeating what I have heard, namely that his cleanliness leaves much to be desired, and that he has no interest in women. Nothing wrong in that; no, nothing at all.’
‘Well it sounded as though you thought there was something wrong in it, and you were intent on making mischief.’
‘’Tis just my manner, Lucy,’ I smiled through gritted teeth. ‘No offence meant.’
‘Good,’ said the suddenly loathsome Lucy. ‘I could not bear it if Mr Paine were still being judged by outmoded English standards of whether he is a gentleman or not, especially after coming all the way from England to escape that sort of snobbery.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Sophie, from whom I had been expecting support. ‘You tell him, girl.’
Sickened already by Continental Cant – in all probability Mr Paine would be discarded by the Americans as soon as he had served his purpose for them – I sighed and looked over to the far end of the boat, where Burnley was slumped between Vanessa and Melanie. At least, I thought, with a strange pang of admiration, Burnley had fought his corner, and had not compromised his views with every turn of fortune, as I had done. Admittedly he had paid the price, but he could feel no unhappier than I did at the moment. I vowed to be more like him when we got to Philadelphia, so that in future there would be no need to eat humble pie to anyone, least of all to continental dupes like Lucy. I brooded on in this vein until we came at last to the Pennsylvania bank, where a shadowy group of figures was waiting for us, muskets levelled.
‘Bring him in carefully, girls. Carefully, carefully. He could still be dangerous.’ Not wanting to get our legs wet, we brought him in no more carefully than we would have done in any case; but it made no difference, we still fell in up to our knees. This uncomfortable soaking did not seem to bother the girls, but it infuriated me, perhaps because I lacked Revolutionary fervour. I was still cursing when I properly beheld the members of our reception committee for the first time. All were bearded, and though slightly less skeletal than the sailors, they still had the same huge careworn eyes. Their shrunken skin was wrapped in belted blankets and ragged breeches, and their feet, incredibly, were swathed in trailing strips of animal hide. On their bodies suppurating sores weeped and badly-healed wounds gaped, so that not even amongst the gin-soaked beggars of Brighthelmstone had I seen such sights. Yet, inexplicably and startlingly, they all seemed in excellent humour.
‘Four girls, five horses and two men, Captain,’ I heard one of them report to another in an Irish accent. ‘One of the men in a very bad way, quite possibly the alleged Bloody Burn himself.’
‘Astounding,’ said the Captain, who looked more like a plague victim than an officer. ‘Quite astounding. But don’t just stand there, boys, help them out. Get them ashore.’
As at a country bee, there was a rush to grab a girl, a stirring testament to the indefatigable power of Nature, and the way the girls responded, with squeals and giggles of delight, only confirmed my view that romantic trouble lay ahead. Sulking, I left them to it, and got on with the job of getting Burnley and the horses ashore.
‘And what regiment do you boys belong to?’ I heard Vanessa giggle, astonished at the new coquettishness in her voice.
‘The 2nd Continental Regiment of Foot, Miss. Formerly of the 11th Connecticut Militia Regiment.’
‘You brave, brave boys. You must be missing home.’
‘We’re missing all sorts of things, Miss.’
Vanessa giggled again, perhaps at something that happened in the dark. I shook my head in disgust, and took comfort in the knowledge that such slack standards would not be tolerated in the British Army. Looking over at Sophie to see how she was faring, I saw one soldier helping her excessively, hands all over the place. Tutting at the beastly nature of mankind, conscious that I could no longer allow things to continue unchecked, I walked over to the rogue and addressed him roughly.
‘Hands off, Stick Man! My wife is perfectly capable of helping herself.’
Fully prepared for a fight – indeed, downright cocky following my part-conquest of Burnley – I was surprised and disappointed when the soldier backed off immediately and saluted me.
‘Oh, I did not know ‘twas your wife, Sir. Please accept my apologies.’
‘Oh, do not overreact so, Harry,’ put in Sophie, ‘there was nothing amiss in his actions. He was merely being courteous.’
The rug pulled from under my feet, I gave a halfhearted growl and returned to my duties, aware that the eyes of the Second Continentals were now on me.
‘And what is your name, O Jealous One?’ asked the captain, coming up to me shortly afterwards.
‘Harry Oysterman,’ I called back over my shoulder, very surly.
‘Rank?’
‘Gentleman.’
‘Oh Harry, don’t start that again,’ cried Sophie. ‘These gallant soldiers are our friends. Tell them you are an independent fighter in the cause of the Revolution.’
‘I am an independent fighter in the cause of the Revolution.’
‘Pleased to hear it,’ said the captain. ‘The Army is looking for men like you.’
No intention of enlisting or being pressed into another army, I merely acknowledged the officer’s remarks with a raised hand, and kept enigmatic. But attention soon shifted from me when it was time to haul Burnley ashore. Never before, it seemed, even in the backwoods of Connecticut, had the soldiers seen such a brute of a man, and much
astonishment was expressed at the size of him.
‘Tis no wonder we are losing this war, if this is the type of fellow we are up against.’
‘He is not typical, I assure you,’ said Vanessa. ‘Most of the British are very ratty specimens.’
I kept a steady scowl on Vanessa as the soldiers asked and were told how we managed to bag him.
‘Well, that is some story,’ said the captain, of the diluted version of events briefly sketched by Sophie. ‘But the bigger they come, the harder they fall, I guess. Ain’t that right, girls?’
‘You’re right, Captain,’ drooled Vanessa, as we all helped to drape the groaning Burnley over Quick. ‘So right.’
Wanting to spew, I was glad when we were ready for the off; the sooner we were away from these sycophancy-inducing rogues the better.
‘Come,’ said the captain, ‘The snow is starting again. Let us hurry back to camp and see if our generals are as excited by this catch as we are.’
Not sure if he was referring to Burnley or the girls, I clambered up onto Easy and we all trooped off in the captain’s wake. Though physically and mentally exhausted, and stupified by the narcotic effects of the falling snow, I somehow managed to stay on the horse throughout the whole wearisome journey, despite the temptation to drop off and stay off. I was helped in this regard by the desire not to disgrace myself in front of the soldiers; after all, ‘twas patently clear that they had suffered much worse hardships than I, and if they could stay on, then so should I be able to. As it was, not only did they stay on, they also cheerfully sang a medley of Revolutionary ditties to keep our spirits up, so that by the time we reached our destination, I really did hold the fellows in the highest esteem.
The camp, when it finally appeared as a glow of campfires and a mass of huddled snow-covered bodies, was not as big as I expected, yet according to the captain it was all that remained of Washington’s army. Only about three thousand men were still left, and most of these were expected to return home when their enlistments expired in two weeks’ time. It was, said the captain, whistling cheerfully, a most perilous situation.
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