by Ted Bell
Snake Eye emerged from the hatch, his pistol in one hand and the flaming torch in the other. Nick could see him judging the distance to the boat, getting ready to step aboard. Concentrating on that tricky feat alone. In one blinding movement, Nick was on his feet, holding one of the oars over his shoulder like a cricket bat. Just as Snake Eye was stepping down into the boat, Nick shifted his weight, rocking the small gig.
Snake Eye struggled to retain his balance, for the moment stunned and distracted at the prospect of being pitched into the water. Then he saw what Nick really intended. Before the pirate could make a cry, Nick swung the heavy oak oar with all his might. The flat of the blade struck the left side of Snake Eye’s head a mighty blow. The man was staggered but still somehow remained standing. Blood was pouring from a gash just above his ear.
Nick planted his boots against the rider of the gig and pivoted his entire upper body for a second blow, coiling his energy. Now, with barely a pause, he swung the oar in a backhand direction, far more powerfully, and dealt the stunned pirate yet another fierce blow to the other side of his head.
Snake Eye pitched headfirst into the water and floated there beside the gig, face up, unconscious but still breathing. Nick stuck the blade of his oar in the man’s chest and shoved him away. He had considered using the oar to submerge him, hold the murdering pirate under until he drowned, but found himself unable to finish off an incapacitated enemy.
That would make him a murderer, too.
He knew this decision might well come back to haunt him someday, but he quickly reboarded the Revenge and raced topside to find Lafayette and inform him of Billy Blood’s escape.
47
AS BOMBS BURST OVERHEAD
Bombshells bursting above Nick’s head lit up the whole topside of Revenge as he emerged from below. Two motionless marine sharpshooters were hanging upside down in the rigging like dead marionettes. What was left of Lafayette’s decimated gun crews were still in action, racing back and forth from port to starboard, reloading and firing the heavy guns as rapidly as they could.
Cannon smoke drifted across the deck as the boy raced aft to find General Lafayette. There were dead and wounded strewn about the deck, but at least the rigging and sails were still mostly intact and, to his great relief, he saw that Revenge was still in the fight. Even now, she cut across the bows of a pirate brigantine and raked her with deadly grapeshot.
“Sir!” Nick said, finding the General crouching beside the helm, tending to a gravely wounded man. The man’s face was a rictus of pain, and Nick saw that he was biting down hard on a musket ball.
“Find our villainous Captain, did you, Nicholas?” the Marquis said without looking up. He was busy stitching up a gaping wound in an officer’s neck with bosun’s needle and catgut. Nick looked closely at the man grimacing in pain. It was Lieutenant Valois.
“Will he make it?” Nick asked anxiously. He’d grown very fond of the brave young lieutenant.
“If God wills it. I’ve seen my share of battlefield wounds, and this one is survivable. And what of Blood?”
“Blood’s escaped, sir!” Nicholas said, still breathing rapidly from his sprint up four decks.
Lafayette looked up, concern darkening his features. “Escaped, for all love? How can that be?”
Nick glanced at the other men round the helm, all pretending not to be eavesdropping on this conversation with Lafayette. Discretion was called for here, and Nick put his lips close to the Marquis’s ear. He whispered, “By some extraordinary means, sir. At any rate, you see, he’s quite disappeared.”
“Ah, disappeared, has he?” Lafayette said, and nodded his understanding. “Departed in a blaze of glory, I’d wager.”
Nick smiled and nodded “yes.”
Lafayette got to his feet after giving Valois a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Corporal, get this man below to sickbay. Hot soup from the galley and a tot of rum. More rum if he needs it.”
“And the battle, sir?” Nick asked, as two marines lifted Valois and carried him off to the ship’s surgery to rest quietly until they had to leave the Revenge .
At that moment, one of the larger nearby pirate ships blew sky high, the explosion rocking the Revenge onto her beam ends. The vessel was no more than a pistol shot away. Her masts flew a hundred and fifty feet straight up into the air out of the cloud of fire and smoke that engulfed her. When the smoke cleared, all that remained were floating fragments and corpses, facedown in the sea. The results of a direct hit to the powder hold.
“See for yourself how the battle goes,” Lafayette said, smiling as he eyed the trim of the mizzen sail above. “This audacious plan of yours is working beyond my wildest dreams of success. Look there off our port bow. The approaching vessel which just sank that pirate ship is La Gloire, Nicholas. The very last of Admiral de Grasse’s twenty-eight ships of the line still within the scope of battle. All the others are safely through the pirate gauntlet and running before the wind for the Virginia coast!”
“Well done, sir!” Nick cried.
“Brilliant execution demands a brilliant plan, Nick.”
Nick felt his cheeks redden and said, “Sir, when La Gloire is safely through, your plan is to abandon this ship?”
“It is indeed. We’ve no more need of her. Our marines and gun crews will disembark and board the longboat Valois arrived in. They will subsequently rendezvous with La Gloire for the voyage to Virginia.”
“And you and me, sir? And Lieutenant Valois?”
“Why, Nick, Admiral de Grasse awaits us aboard the Ville de Paris, lying not half a mile from here, expecting a rendezvous. Once we are there, we’ll see Valois attended to, after which we will retire to our cabin and fetch your wondrous orb from its hiding place.”
“Return to Mount Vernon as planned?”
“Mais oui! To the little garden house. We shall arrive just before midnight on the night we departed. We’ll be snug in our beds and get a good night’s sleep before General Washington calls us down for breakfast. General de Rocham-beau will be arriving at dawn with five thousand French troops. Then, it’s on to Yorktown, where Lord Cornwallis awaits us behind his supposedly impregnable fortifications!”
Lafayette laughed at the notion of any fortifications sufficient to withstand the might and wrath of the combined array of French and American forces.
“I imagine Lord Cornwallis still expects to be rescued by sea at the last moment?” Nick asked.
“Of course. But he’ll quickly be disabused of that notion when he sees Admiral de Grasse arrive off Yorktown with twenty-eight ships of the line and fifteen thousand in troops and crew!”
Nick grinned from ear to ear. “We did it after all, didn’t we, sir? What General Washington asked of you.”
“We well and surely did it, lad. And though no one on this good green earth will ever know about it, or by what outlandish methods we achieved it, you and I shall forever share this sweet victory, this happiest of all military secrets.”
“It has been an honor, sir,” Nick said.
“Yes. But the honor has been all mine,” the Marquis de Lafayette replied, the two of them smiling at each other as bombs burst overhead.
“Helm, put her hard over!” Lafayette said. “Steer due north for a rendezvous with the Ville de Paris. My young friend and I have had quite enough of your shipmates’ fireworks for one evening.”
48
ON THE LONG ROAD TO YORKTOWN
Nick nestled deep under the covers of his familiar old bed on the second floor at Mount Vernon. The grand estate was beginning to feel like home. Wide-eyed, too excited to sleep, he lay on his side staring through the open window, the dark Potomac sliding by, the countless stars dusting the heavens beyond. The house was quiet, but he thought he heard the soft patter of slippers, most probably Lucy climbing some secret staircase hidden behind his bedroom wall.
He rolled over, clasped his hands beneath his head, and stared at the ceiling. Next morning, General de Rochambeau would arrive from
Williamsburg with five thousand more infantry and cavalry to reinforce the American and French troops already besieging Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown.
But, most exciting of all, was the brief conversation he’d had with Lafayette just before they’d wished each other a good-night in the garden house and slipped unseen through the gardens into the darkened mansion. Because of all the sentries lurking about, it was a hurried, whispered conversation, but it had thrilled Nick McIver to the bone.
The Marquis would be commanding one of the American divisions in the coming battle, he said. The Light Infantry. Then he had actually asked Nick to join him and General Washington on the journey to Yorktown next morning! Nick would serve as Lafayette’s primary aide-de-camp and thus be an eyewitness to one of the most historic battles ever waged.
He turned over onto his side, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep. Images of home—his father, mother, and sister, Katie—filled his mind. Gunner, too, and his own good dog, Jipper. He’d been so involved in saving Admiral de Grasse’s fleet, he’d had precious little time to consider those he loved most. He couldn’t help but worry how they were faring under the German occupation, most especially his father now in hospital.
He’d know soon enough, he thought, drifting off. When he’d acquitted himself of his duties to General Lafayette, he would go home to little Greybeard Island. Once there, he and Gunner would no doubt resume the business of making life extremely uncomfortable for the invading Nazis. They’d lost the beautiful old Camel, sure, but there were other ways to . . . to . . .
He drifted off into a dream of glory.
There came a tapping at his door, and Nick wondered if it was part of his dream. Then he heard the door squeak open and saw Mrs. Washington’s cheerful face peeking in at him. The whole room was bathed in a rosy glow, and he knew dawn had finally broken over Mount Vernon.
“Awake?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hungry, I’ll bet,” she said, coming across the room to his bed. “May I sit a moment?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She settled herself at the foot of his bed, arranging her vo-luminous skirts, and regarded him carefully. There was warmth in those beautiful eyes, Nick saw, but worry, too. Her hands were trembling, and she quickly hid them in the folds of her skirts.
“The old man tells me you’re going to Yorktown as General Lafayette’s aide-de-camp.”
“The old man?”
“That’s what I call my beloved husband. He calls me Patsy, even though my name is Martha. That’s what twenty-two years of a happy marriage does to people. Silly, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. My poor departed mum and dad always used to call each other darling. My friend Gunner always used to say, ‘And how are the Darlings this fine morning, Nicholas?”
Mrs. Washington laughed for a moment and then composed herself. “So, it’s true. You’ll journey with the army to Yorktown this morning?”
“Yes, ma’am. General Lafayette asked me last evening. I was most honored to accept his kind and generous offer.”
“Nick, listen to me. You are a dear boy. Kind and caring, and courageous too. I’ve grown quite fond of you in the short time you’ve been here at Mount Vernon. And I’m here to ask just one thing of you. Don’t go to Yorktown. Please.”
“Well, ma’am, I feel like I have to because—”
“Because nothing. You’re a mere boy, not a soldier. Or even a drummer boy anymore. You don’t have to do anything. It is going to be a ferocious battle, from what I hear. A fight to the death. Anything can happen. Knowing war as I do, it will happen. Suppose Lafayette’s division of Light Infantry is overrun. Don’t forget, you’re a traitor to your king and country, Nicholas. Do you know what those redcoats will do to you if you’re captured? I shudder even to think of it.”
“Well, ma’am, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I’ve never been one to run from a fight and—”
“Shh. Let me finish. The good Lord blessed me with four children. Three of them have long passed from this earth. Only my Jacky remains. This morning he asked his stepfather to allow him to go to Yorktown as one of the General’s aides. The old man said yes.”
“Well, I guess—”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about my son going, Nicholas. A very bad feeling. And that’s partly why I’m here, asking you not to go. You see, I, well, I suppose I have developed something akin to motherly feelings for you, Nicholas. If something should happen to Jacky—well, I just couldn’t stand to lose you, too.”
For once, Nick found himself at a complete loss for words.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just came up here to tell you how I felt. You’ll make your own decision, I can see that. Now, you get dressed and hurry downstairs. Mum Bitt has laid out a splendid breakfast in honor of General de Rochambeau’s arrival. General Washington wants everyone to have a hearty repast before the long journey south.”
She stood up, looking down at him, clasping her hands under her chin as if in prayer. “I’ll see you downstairs, I suppose,” she said and, her eyes welling with tears, quickly turned away. When the door had closed behind her, Nick leaped out of bed, dressed, and hurried down to breakfast. There were some things about a boy, he supposed, that women just didn’t understand.
An hour later, Nick found himself mounted on a handsome little paint named Chief, and riding beside General Lafayette. Ahead of them rode General Washington, his staff officers, and his aides, young Jacky among them. All were protected by Washington’s personal unit, called the Commander-in-Chief ‘s guard. These troops were responsible for the safety of the General’s person and baggage, and they carried a distinctive white flag bearing a pictorial motif and a green scroll with the inscription CONQUER OR DIE.
Behind Washington, stretching for miles, was an army many thousands strong, the combined armies of General de Rochambeau and General Washington. The French troops alone numbered nearly eight thousand men.
The French infantrymen were brilliantly turned out in spotless white uniforms, their legs encased in white gaiters. Nearly all of them wore black three-cornered hats. And the magnificent regimental standards they carried were battle flags divided by white crosses with each quarter sporting a different color, corresponding to the division.
Most of the Continental infantrymen, by contrast, wore dark blue or black coats faced with red, white, or blue satin, corresponding to the regiment. The American cavalrymen wore short coats, buckskin breeches, and high boots called spatterdashes. But many of the Continentals, mostly militia, wore whatever bedraggled clothing they had, and far too many marched without shoes.
Seeing these brave and loyal men, their feet bloodied and bruised by weeks of marching, Nick remembered something his father had told him long ago when he had complained about not having some silly nothing or other.
“I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.”
Among the militia were several hundred grizzled mountaineers. Sons of the Mountains they were called, a motley assembly of hardened outdoorsmen armed with long hunting rifles and a worthy reputation. These were the sharpshooters, and no one was more effective in a skirmish with the enemy. Despite their shabby attire, they were all soldierly looking, big men who endured privations, fatigue, and long marches without a murmur of discontent.
The army was traveling an ancient Indian path, now called the King’s Highway. To Nick’s amazement, the size of the army grew with every passing hour. French cavalry racing past them, eager to join their comrades already at the front; farmers and country people, some mounted and some on foot, all carrying the long small-caliber hunting rifles that had proven more accurate than military muskets.
The army spent the first night in Williamsburg, thousands of tents pitched on the green. A huge gala was held at the Governor’s mansion in honor of General de Rochambeau, and Nick was thrilled to be invited. He delighted in the many toasts and tributes to Washington and Rochambeau, and the chorus of “Huzzah!
Huzzah! Huzzah!” that followed each tribute.
A drenching rain marked the next day’s march. It rained all night, and Nick had only his blanket between him and the ground. At the end of a very long march the next day, Nick got a whiff of sea air. Moments later he heard the dull thunder of distant artillery. After a journey of over a hundred miles, they were getting very close now, and couriers bearing dispatch satchels galloped by at breakneck speed, ferrying battlefield messages to Williamsburg and back.
By the time General Washington and the French commander, le Comte de Rochambeau, arrived at Yorktown, Virginia, on September 27, 1781, they were leading a combined force of seventeen thousand French and Colonial soldiers, including militia in rough clothing from all thirteen colonies.
Waiting for them inside the heavily fortified village called Yorktown were eight thousand redcoats. They were part of the finest army the world had ever seen, the elite of George III’s expeditionary force to America. The enemy force included two veteran Anspach battalions and a Hessian regiment as well.
The British had built an elaborate system of earthworks and timber around the entire town. When they’d run out of trees, they’d taken to dismantling entire houses in the town of York, taking what wood they could find in an effort to reinforce their battlements.
As Nick rode on, he noticed that the woods on either side of the King’s Highway had been decimated for British timber. The road was in awful condition. This was the route over which all of the allied armies behind him and all their wagons and cannon had to pass, along with the cavalry and all the cattle for feeding the troops.
“Nicholas,” Lafayette suddenly said, “follow me. I want to show you something.” He put spurs to his grey horse and galloped into the woods. Nick spurred his horse on, but having done little riding on his tiny island, he had a hard time keeping up with his new friend. Chief was no match for Lafayette’s stallion.