by Edward Cline
Hunt had chosen the new name for the vessel, a mythological serpent that could kill with its breath and glance. Hunt took the liberty of writing Governor Dunmore about the quality of the acquisition, boasting that it could probably better police the rivers of the Roads than any naval vessels or Customs cutters currently on duty in the Bay. “She is as slick as a trout in the water, sir, and I believe she has a glorious career ahead of her in service to the Crown. She will be managed by a loyal captain from the Eastern Shore, and he has assembled for the Basilisk an eager and hearty crew. He has also employed a Negro pilot who claims to know every rock, eddy, and sandbar in the Bay and in the rivers. She sports eight guns deck-side, in addition to a swivel. She is not impressive to look at when seen alongside a man-of-war, but she could level Norfolk or any town in this region just as thoroughly as one of His Majesty’s best ships.”
* * *
The next morning Hugh rode to Cullis Hall to see Edgar Cullis. Hetty Cullis, Edgar’s mother, answered his knock. He half expected her to inform him that her son and her husband Ralph had left for the Piedmont on a hunting trip. It had happened so often in the past. And he was almost surprised when the woman invited him in and showed him to her husband’s library. “Mr. Cullis, my husband, is in Norfolk on business,” she said. “Edgar is preparing himself for the next Assembly. May I serve you something?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Cullis. My stay will be brief.”
“I understand that you have just returned from England, Mr. Kenrick,” said the woman. “You must tell me something of your stay there! How is Mrs. Kenrick?”
Hugh chatted with the woman for a few moments without revealing anything personal or important. He thought that his icy cordiality moved Mrs. Cullis to relent and lead him to the back of the great house.
Edgar Cullis rose from his father’s desk when his mother showed Hugh in. Mrs. Cullis turned and left the room. “I saw you coming up the coach path,” said the other burgess. “Have you come to berate me again? And, by the way, welcome home.”
Hugh removed his hat. “Thank you. No, I have not come to berate you. I am here simply to tell you what I plan to do in the Assembly, and perhaps what I will say about Lord North’s ‘Olive Branch’ proposals. I hope you will reciprocate.”
Cullis nodded and waved Hugh to a chair in front of the desk. Out of courtesy, Hugh obliged. Cullis remained standing. “Have you seen this?” He took a sheet of paper from a pile of documents and handed it over to Hugh. “Mr. Corbin was kind enough to send me a copy.”
Hugh read it. It was the Governor’s Council statement condemning Patrick Henry’s actions over the gunpowder incident. Hugh made a scoffing sound. “It is the Governor’s actions that are detestable, abhorrent, and licentious,” commented Hugh, “moved by an ungovernable spirit of tyranny.” He handed the sheet back over the desk.
Cullis cocked his head. “I had expected to hear such a sentiment from you.”
Hugh shrugged. “The Council has rendered itself redundant, and it little matters what it has to say about anything.” Then he frowned. “Why are you so privileged as to be sent a transcript from the Council’s journal?”
Cullis grinned. “Because there are vacancies on the Council now…and my name has been mentioned to fill one of them.”
Hugh screwed up his face in amazement. “The Board of Trade and Privy Council must approve of such an appointment, and then secure His Majesty’s signature. Have you any influence or friends in London?”
It was Cullis’s turn to shrug. “Enough there, and enough here, sir. Mr. Corbin, Reverend Camm, and Mr. Wormley have all promised to write letters of recommendation, should my name be settled on.” The three men were on the Council.
Hugh laughed. “Mr. Cullis, you may as well hope for a cardinal’s hat! In a year’s time, perhaps less, when those bodies bother to consider your candidacy, and whether or not they endorse it, I venture to say there will be no royal government here, no Governor’s Council, and no Governor!”
“Then I shall be found on the side that will fight to reestablish those authorities!” replied Cullis with defiance.
“And I shall be found on the side that will aim to tether those authorities, or to abolish them if they will not submit to a harness.” Hugh paused. “Mr. Cullis, have you no notion of the gravity of events? My God, the war has already begun! Some eighty soldiers died on the retreat to Boston last month, and nearly a hundred Massachusetts men! Both sides have drawn blood from each other, and there will be no reconciliation or thought of peace. That is but the beginning. Do you seriously think the ministry in London is going to devote any time to considering names for appointments to a colonial council, when its aim is to abolish all the charters here?” He paused again. “And here is what I will say in the House about Lord North’s proposals: that they are a subterfuge worthy of Jonathan Wild!”
Cullis bridled at this outburst. His whole body stiffened, and he looked over Hugh’s head to reply, “And I shall argue that Lord North’s proposals comprise a hand extended in friendship and charity. I shall argue that their rejection would amount to criminal ingratitude.”
Hugh rose. “You may argue that, sir,” he said as he put on his hat, “but you will persuade only fools and dishonest men.”
After a sharp glance at his visitor, Cullis turned his head away to stare out a window. “You may leave now, Mr. Kenrick. And I would thank you not to call on this house again.”
“You may rely on me to honor that request. Good day to you.”
Hugh Kenrick rode back to Meum Hall.
* * *
Two days later, on Sunday, at Stepney Parish Church, Reverend Albert Acland read from Samuel in the Old Testament. “…And the Philistines had captured the Ark of God, they brought it from Ebenezer to Ashdod, and there they carried it into the temple of Dagon and set it beside Dagon himself. When the people of Ashdod rose next morning, there was Dagon fallen face downwards before the Ark of the Lord; so they took him and put him back in his place. Next morning when they rose, Dagon had fallen again face downwards before the Ark of the Lord, with his head and his two hands lying broken off beside his platform…. Then the Lord laid a heavy hand upon the people of Ashdod; he threw them into distress and plagued them with tumors, and their territory swarmed with rats…. There was death and destruction all through the city…. ”
He snapped the Bible shut and glared at his congregation. “Need I elaborate on the parallels in our own Ashdod, my good people? We will not be spared the Lord’s heavy hand! We are already plagued with the tumors of dissension and flagrant disobedience and the pestilence of lawlessness, and our once happy land now swarms with rats — who are called patriots! And the time is not far off when we also shall see tears, and hear the wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth, which now distract the mothers and daughters in Massachusetts in lament for the husbands and brothers who dared visit violence on His Majesty’s servants, and met death themselves! And that will be the Lord’s justice and retribution, as well, and this punishment shall be passed on from generation to generation…!”
* * *
In Mecklenburg, North Carolina, the provincial congress on May 31 adopted resolves that suspended the power of all royal authority in North Carolina, and sent them to its delegates at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. The colony thus earned the distinction of being the first to declare its independence from Britain, more than a year before the United Colonies — or, as Patrick Henry preferred to refer to them, “The United States” — declared their independence.
Early in the morning of June 1, there disappeared from in front of Sheriff Cabal Tippet’s house on the bluff overlooking Caxton’s riverfront, the old cannon from two wars ago. Sheriff Tippet that day made some formal inquiries about the theft, but did not investigate the matter with much energy. He suspected who was responsible. He secretly approved of the theft, and wondered why it had not occurred sooner.
Chapter 4: The Soldiers
Two evenings later, Ja
ck Frake rode to Meum Hall. He found Hugh sitting on the south porch with a tankard of cider, looking out over his fields. Another chair stood on the other side of a small table, which held a pitcher and some books. Hugh waved a welcome to him.
Jack Frake nodded, dismounted, tied his mount to a hitching post, and joined his friend, taking the vacant chair. Hugh offered him a draught from the tankard. Jack Frake shook his head once, then rose and paced once before saying, “We are going to Boston.”
Hugh could not hide the surprise in his question. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“How?”
Jack Frake smiled. “On the Sparrowhawk. At first light.”
“She’s here?”
“At Yorktown.” Jack Frake paused. “She sailed from Plymouth before news of any of the recent troubles reached England. She has some cargo not covered by the non-importation resolutions. We’ll march down before dawn, board her, and stow ourselves below decks out of sight.” He paused to take out a seegar and light it with a match. “Geary’s already been cleared by the Customs cutters and the navy, chiefly because he also carried military stores from Plymouth to Hampton, so it’s doubtful he will be stopped again. He’ll take her straight up the Bay to Baltimore. There we’ll disembark and march north. Jock Fraser has the route all mapped out. We will provision ourselves as we go along. We should reach the town by the middle of June.”
Hugh studied his friend for a moment. “I thought you were opposed to going to Boston.”
Jack Frake drew on his seegar. “I still am. But the men want to pitch in, and voted on it yesterday. They’ve made some good arguments. If the army up there can be holed up in Boston or defeated there, there’s a good chance that the British will give up the effort after one encounter, after their noses have been bloodied, whether or not they have reinforcements. The more men and guns they see opposing them in the field, perhaps the less likely they will seek a military resolution, and resume their cajoling and procrastinating. I can’t disagree with that reasoning. But I’m not entirely convinced by it, either.”
“Nor am I,” Hugh said. “Britain has had her nose bloodied in battle more than once, but has always recouped her losses and ultimately won. You know that better than I. You were with Braddock twenty years ago.”
“Yes. But another thing that must occur to them is that, this time, many of the Americans they will be facing are veterans of the last war, as officers and in the ranks. It is not a mob of Londoners they’ll be riding down over cobblestone streets with drawn swords, but men who can give as good as they get. That was proven at Lexington and Concord.” Jack Frake sighed, and added doubtfully, “All that may give them pause for thought.”
Hugh nodded in doubt, as well. “How were you able to arrange transport on the Sparrowhawk? She was due to arrive this month, I know, but is Captain Geary behind this?”
“Ramshaw arranged it. He wrote me some months ago. He saw which way Parliament was going, and made a gift of powder through his connections in Norfolk, England. Geary is sympathetic. His only son was pressed into the navy there some years ago, and died at sea. He’s also been arbitrarily fined by the Revenue for various niggling infractions. Geary was planning to settle in Boston to begin his own trade in a few years.” Jack Frake grinned tentatively. “There’s even half a chance he’ll offer the Sparrowhawk to the Congress as the foundation of a navy, or apply for a letter of marque to sail as a privateer to raid British shipping. We’ve discussed it. He has Ramshaw’s blessing. Ramshaw still owns a quarter interest in the Sparrowhawk. But Geary hasn’t decided yet on either course.”
After a moment, Hugh said, “I almost envy you, Jack. I am feeling neglected.”
“Don’t envy me. You will be here at the General Assembly, opposing the Governor.”
“Don’t envy me that,” said Hugh with a short laugh. “It may be that he is a more formidable foe than General Gage.” He paused. “May I accompany you to Yorktown to see you and the men off?”
“Of course.”
“Have you enough munitions?”
Jack Frake nodded. “We are taking paper for cartridges, and mouldings to fashion ball. We will add to our pouches some of His Majesty’s powder, as well, courtesy of Geary and Ramshaw. Geary showed the Customsmen and the navy altered cockets. Ramshaw taught him all his old smuggling tricks. So, we’ll be busy making munitions as we sail up the Bay.” After another moment, he added, “Every man in the company has been given a few balls from Barret’s Volley.”
Hugh understood. The “Volley” was a mound of musket balls cast from Wendel Barret’s Courier printing type, which was seized by Lieutenant-Governor Fauquier as punishment for having broadcast the Stamp Act Resolves. Jack Frake secretly purchased the type after the Lieutenant-
Governor returned it after Barret’s death years ago. “Are you taking Mr. Tippet’s cannon, or the swivel?”
“No. They would only slow us down. I am supposing that if the Massachusetts men are besieging Boston, there will be guns enough.”
They sat for a moment in silence. Then Hugh asked, “What will happen to Morland…if anything happens to you, Jack? I mean, if there is more fighting up north?”
Jack Frake shrugged his shoulders once. “Etáin will inherit it. I’ve discussed it with Mr. Proudlocks. He’ll see to it.”
“Is he going with you?”
“Yes. He commands a platoon. Nominally, he is a sergeant.”
“Do the men mind?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. Not that he’s noticed. The men respect him. He can cite laws and statutes most of them have never heard of. Many of them wish to hire him as their lawyer. But, he is not certain when and if he will be able to follow in Mr. Reisdale’s footsteps, and open his own practice.”
Hugh chuckled. “The sergeant-at-war is a sergeant-at-law, as well. The legal profession is redeeming itself, Jack.”
* * *
In the darkness early the next morning, Hugh rode with Jack Frake and the Queen Anne Volunteer Company to Yorktown, the company marching behind with Jock Fraser in the lead. William Hurry, Jack Frake’s steward and business manager now, accompanied them to return to Morland with his employer’s mount.
The men of the company wore a mongrel collection of fringed hunting shirts, frock coats, leggings, and a variety of headgear ranging from tricorns to round-brims to flat brims with one side pinned to the crown with a cockade. As befitted musicians, Travis Barret and Cletus wore red coats, which someone had found for them, although the coats were too big for them. Jock Fraser was dandily dressed as though for a ball at the Capitol, and carried the ensign. All the men were armed with muskets, and hanging from them on shoulder belts were powder horns, sheathed knives, pouches with ball and extra powder, canteens, and bayonets. All wore packs, to which were strapped sleeping rolls.
Jack Frake was similarly armed and attired. But fixed to his belt also was a sword in its scabbard. It was the first time Hugh had ever seen him wear such a weapon. He said so. Jack Frake replied, “It was John Massie’s. I brought it up from the cellar and spent an hour last night removing the rust from the blade and the guard.” John Massie was the planter who bought Jack Frake’s indenture decades ago, and was the former owner of Morland Hall.
Hugh looked grim. “Well, we should both hope that the enemy never gets near enough to you that you would need to employ it.”
“My hope, as well,” agreed Jack Frake.
Hugh smiled, and said, “Then you need something to complement your rank as an officer.” Under the light of flambeaux at the bottom of the gangboard to the Sparrowhawk, and as the men of the Company filed singly from the pier up the gangboard to the vessel, he reached into his frock coat and presented Jack Frake with a steel gorget on a hemp cord. As his friend held the object and studied it with pleased astonishment — the gorget was in the standard crescent shape — Hugh added, “I had planned to give it to you some time later, when I saw the Company on parade or at drill. Mr. Zouch fashioned it from the p
lates and the damaged lock on a broken musket I found in one of my cellars.” Zouch was Meum Hall’s brickmaster.
Jack grinned when he held the gorget closer under one of the flambeaux to read the engraved inscription, which was in Latin: Sapere aude. “My Latin is very poor,” he said.
“Have the courage to use your own reason,” said Hugh. “It is the watchword of our age.”
“It has always been my own,” replied Jack Frake. “Thank you.” He then lifted the symbol of command and fitted it around his neck. “There. Now I am a true officer.”
Hugh reached over and adjusted the gorget over his friend’s shirt, and needlessly pulled one of the coat lapels straight.
Jock Fraser, curious about the exchange between the men, came over and, when he saw the gorget, stopped and saluted Jack Frake. He ran a finger over the gorget, then said, “Steel? Well, if nothing else, sir, at least it might stop a ball or two.”
John Proudlocks came down the gangboard and approached them. He noticed the gorget, and paused to salute his commander. “Captain Geary sends his compliments, Jack, and says he is ready to cast off. He wants to round Mobjack Bay by mid-morning.”
“All right, John.” Jack Frake extended his hand to Hugh.
Hugh shook it firmly, then shook hands with Jock Fraser and Proudlocks as Jack Frake spoke a last time with William Hurry. Hugh took a step back to watch them ascend the gangboard. The rest of the Company had already gone below deck. Jack Frake, Fraser and Proudlocks stood at the rail.
Hugh could not decide if they were looking at him or at Yorktown on the bluff behind him, perhaps for the last time. No, banish that somber thought! he told himself. Jock Fraser, in a final gesture of farewell, unfurled the ensign and waved it at Hugh. Hugh raised his right hand to the tip of his tricorn in a vague salute. “When you take on the Governor,” shouted Fraser down to him, “be sure to leave a bit of him for us to chew on!”