“Is something troubling you, Grandmother?”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “What do David and your sailor friends think of the Battle of Trafalgar?”
“They’re awed by the British might and they mourn the death of Horatio Nelson.”
“And you? What do you think?”
“I think that we owe the French a debt for killing Nelson and that we should build our defenses while the British are still engaged with Napoleon.”
She nodded. “The English just can’t seem to get it through their thick skulls that we are a free and sovereign nation.”
“We’ll have to demonstrate that to them again, I fear.”
Rachael looked into her coffee cup for a moment before looking back at her grandson. “What are your plans, Yank?”
“Plans?”
“Yes. For yourself and your family.”
“Plans. Well, I’ll be on leave until after Christmas.”
“Will you be staying with me for Christmas or with Tom and Nannette?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it. What do you think?”
She smiled. “There’s no place like home for Christmas.”
“Will you come if we go?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s settled.”
“Why don’t you go up and see your wife and baby?”
“I think I’d rather just wait until Marina comes down.”
“Was the journey difficult with all this weather?” Rachael asked, after a long, uncomfortable silence.
“Not bad.”
“Of all trips I made with or to see your grandfather, that was the one I hated most.”
“It isn’t the same now. The W.I.L.N.C. has done a marvelous job.”
“Remind me what W.I.L.N.C. stands for.”
“The Western Inland Lock Navigation Company.”
“Ah. Yes. The group that President Washington appointed to dig canals.”
He nodded. “They’ve created an uninterrupted waterway all the way to Lake Ontario.”
“No portage from Albany to Schenectady?”
“No portage anywhere, unless the ice is too thick to break.”
“In what kind of vessels? Bateaus?”
“No. Sixty foot Durham boats that can carry fifteen tons.”
“And they can break through the ice?”
“Like the Hudson River double hulled schooners, they have booms on their bows with huge iron weights that they drop to break up the flow and iron plates to push through the chunks. I returned from Lake Ontario to New York through a blizzard and never got my feet wet.”
She smiled. “Isn’t that simply amazing?”
“The expansion of our country is going to explode, Grandmother. My children will see new states and territories all the way to the Pacific.”
“If Lewis and Clark find a northwest passage.”
“A northwest passage is irrelevant, Grandmother. Marina and I followed a southern route overland and we learned of four other passes through the Rockies. The future of America is in the west. If we can live up to it, someday we’ll be the greatest nation in the world.”
December 24, 1805
Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey
The house was asleep except for Yank and Marina who were on the couch in front of the fireplace. She had her feet pulled up and was curled under his arm while her fingers played with the needles of the decorated pine tree that stood beside the couch. “I’ve never even heard of a Christmas tree before.”
“The Prussian soldiers decorated them on the Christmas Eve before the Battle of Trenton. My father, who was rarely impressed by anything frivolous, thought it was a beautiful tradition so our family adopted it.”
“That was the winter of ‘76?”
“Yes. When my father crossed the Delaware with Washington.” He looked at the tree, then at the fire. “I envy those men.”
“What men?”
“The men that were there. My father, Washington, Madison, Hamilton, Monroe.”
“Why?”
“They had a noble cause.”
“And you don’t?”
“Listen to this and you tell me.” He took a letter from his pocket, unfolded it and turned so he could read it by the dim firelight. “Flags were given to my people, and they were told they were now the children of the Americans. We were told, if any white people mean to harm you, hold up these flags and you will then be safe from all danger. We did this in good faith. But what happened? Our beloved chief Moluntha stood with the American flag in front of him and that very peace treaty in his hand, but his head was chopped by a American officer, and that American officer was never punished. Brother, after such bitter events, can you blame me for placing little confidence in the promises of Americans?”
“Who wrote that?”
“A Shawnee named Tecumseh.”
“He writes well.”
“He also writes the truth. It shames me to read it.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, John. You haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“Actually, I have. When I was with General Wayne, before the Treaty of Greenville was signed, I foolishly agreed to become the blood brother of the principal Shawnee civil chief. Now I’ve married outside the tribe without permission and all the Indians in the Northwest Territories think I’ve dishonored my vows.”
“Posh. You were a whole continent away when we were married. All we have to do is speak to this blood brother of yours and explain.”
“Marina. It isn’t that simple.”
“It is that simple. There have never been hostilities between any southwestern tribes and his, so he must grant permission to us. It is a universal law.”
“I don’t think you quite grasp the problem. The Ohio Country is very far away. You can’t possible go there with me.”
“I know exactly where it is and it isn’t as far as El Paso. What’s his name?”
“Who?”
“This chief who is your blood-brother?”
“Catecahassa.”
“Black Hoof?”
“Do you speak Shawnee?”
“Algonquian. It must be similar. Does Black Hoof live in a village or are his people nomadic?”
“Why?”
“If we know where we’re going we can probably leave soon, but if we’re going to have to search for them we should wait until spring.”
“Wait, wait. Before you start planning a trip: What about the babies?”
“They’ll be fine here with your aunt or in New York with your grandmother’s clan.”
“You should think about this, Marina.”
She looked at him. “There really isn’t any choice, John. It’s a matter of honor.”
He looked away from her, into the flickering fire.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t say that. I can see that something’s gnawing at you.”
“A soldier that I know,” Yank stammered. “No, he’s more Indian – his name is William Wells.”
Marina waited. “Yes? What about him?”
“He said that he couldn’t respect a man who cannot manage his wife.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Never mind.” He shook his head.
She stared at him for several seconds. “Did I offend you with what I just said about honor?”
“No.”
“What then?”
He shook his head.
“John.”
He took a breath. “There are rumors, Marina. Vicious rumors that I reject intellectually, but…”
“About me?”
“Yes. You and a naval officer called Percy.”
“Captain Alexander Percy.”
“Yes.”
“What is your question?”
“Must I kill him?”
“I would much rather that you didn’t, but who am I to throw honor in your face with one sentence and deny it with the next?”
“Perhaps you would prefer
it if he killed me.”
“Don’t be a fool, John. You cannot doubt my love for you.”
“I’m told that he seems quite certain that you would marry him if it was not for me.”
“If he kills you I swear before almighty God that I will murder him, go to the gallows and leave our children orphans. How’s that?”
“A bit overly dramatic, I should think.”
“It was said in absolute earnest.”
“I dislike the idea. Withdraw your oath.”
“No.”
“Hmm. Then I must be careful to avoid being killed by him.”
“Then you intend to challenge him?”
“No. I will insult him and make him challenge me.”
“What difference does that make?”
“It gives me the choice of weapons. I am a master of the smallsword.”
“That hardly matters if they hang you.”
“I can defeat him without harming a hair on his pretty head.”
“John.”
“Think no more on the subject.”
“John.”
“The subject is closed for discussion, Marina.”
“Ha. Is that what you call managing your wife?”
“It is indeed. Press me further and you shall put me in a foul mood and spoil Christmas for everyone.”
December 28, 1805
Weehawken, New Jersey
Captains David Van Buskirk and Stephen Decatur shook hands then together began pacing off a twenty foot square, marking each corner with a handkerchief.
“I was unaware until this very moment that my chief second was also your cousin, Colonel Van Buskirk,” Lieutenant Percy called from the fog.
Yank and his other three seconds ignored him but Decatur turned around abruptly. “If you believe that I might betray you in some way, Captain Percy, I will withdraw and we will postpone this meeting until you can secure more trustworthy seconds. Then, if you are not killed by my cousin, I shall demand satisfaction.”
“My comment was not intended to impugn your integrity, Captain Decatur,” Percy answered. “It was simply a statement of fact.”
“If it makes you feel any better, we’re related to nearly everyone in New York and New Jersey.” Decatur went on with his task.
“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Percy said whipping his smallsword through the air. “Who duels with swords in this day and age?”
“The challenged man has his choice of weapons,” Captain Van Buskirk replied.
“I thought that meant the choice of pistols.”
“You were incorrect.” Captain Van Buskirk walked back to the combatants. “Have you agreed upon the condition of the duel?”
“They have not been discussed,” Yank replied, “but I suggest that we continue until the physicians determine that one or both of us cannot.”
“I say to the death,” Percy replied.
“Or until one of us apologizes,” Yank suggested.
Captain Van Buskirk waited a moment then when Percy said nothing more, he stepped back. “Each of you will begin at opposite edges of the square. A man who leaves the square will be judged a coward and the loser. If a blade is broken, a timeout will be called until the weapon has been replaced. Combat will begin when I drop this handkerchief and will end when one of you is dead or one of you apologizes.” He raised the handkerchief. “Take your positions.” He waited until the two men were at the edges of the square and let it fall.
Percy rushed across the square, hacking and slashing.
Yank backed away slowly, catching Percy’s blade easily until the younger man began to tire. “It is now time to apologize, Lieutenant.”
“No taunting,” Decatur admonished.
Yank flipped his wrist and Percy’s weapon went flying.
Percy’s eyes were wide but he bravely stood his ground waiting for the thrust that would kill him.
“What do we do now, David?” Yank asked. “Must I skewer this lad in cold blood?”
“You may grant him permission to retrieve his weapon,” Captain Van Buskirk replied.
Yank saluted Percy with his sword. “Permission is granted. Fetch your sword, Lieutenant.”
Percy found the sword and this time approached more cautiously.
Yank feinted, then when Percy moved to block, he slashed the back of the young lieutenant’s hand. When Percy dropped his sword, Yank put his foot on Percy’s blade and the point of his sword inches from Percy’s face. “You have my permission to pick it up. But, unless you’re very much better with your left hand than you are with your right, I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“No taunting,” Decatur shouted.
“I was granting him permission to retrieve his weapon,” Yank said. He flicked Percy’s cheek with the tip of his blade and backed away.
Percy’s hand went to his bleeding cheek. He looked at the blood on his fingers, then at the sword on the ground and finally at his bloody right hand. “My apologies, Colonel. I resign.”
Yank walked closer. “If you so much look at my wife or speak of her again I’ll make you eat your own guts, boy. I have only a limited amount of charity within me, and you have just used it up.”
January 2, 1806
New York Harbor, New York
Lieutenant Alexander Percy saluted with his bandaged hand and waited for Yank to return the salute before walking on down the pier.
“Did you do that to his face?” Marina asked, trying to keep her voice normal as she watched Percy.
“Yes, and I did him a great favor,” Yank chuckled. “He was much too pretty. Nothing like a saber scar to add character to a young man’s face.”
“Unless it might be a broken nose,” she laughed and pulled her attention back to her husband. “I pray that we are not traveling aboard Captain Percy’s ship.”
“No. He’s bound for Hampton Roads where his vessel is to be altered from a schooner into a Brig.” He pointed. “This is our ship.”
“This big ship?”
“Yes.” He gave her a questioning look. “Is something wrong?”
“Only that it seems too big for the Hudson.”
“She’s double hulled to break ice. But she’ll only take us as far as Albany where we will board a smaller vessel to Schenectady.”
“I see.” She was once again watching Percy who was standing with some other officers near the end of the pier.
“From there we will travel by Durham boat until we reach Oswego where we will travel by schooner on Lake Ontario,” Yank said, pretending not to notice her flagging attention. “Do you want to know the rest?”
“What?” She turned back to Yank. “Oh no. Not now. What are we waiting for?”
“My grandmother. She wanted to see us off.”
“Uh.” Marina made a face. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“About my grandmother?”
“Yes. We didn’t part in New York on perfectly friendly terms.”
“Are you still angry with her?”
“It was she who was angry at me.”
“Oh if that is the case, don’t worry. She never stays angry.”
“We shall presently see.” Marina pointed. “That’s her carriage.”
The carriage had no sooner stopped when Rachael Van Buskirk reached impatiently through the window to unlatch the door. The moment that the footman dropped the step, she bounded down like a woman half her age. “I am so sorry to be late.” She kissed Marina on both cheeks then Yank. “Something about a horseshoe. Or was it a nail?” She shook her head. “I dare say I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I told you,” Yank said to Marina.
“You told her what?” Rachael asked.
“That you would have a good reason for being late,” Marina said. “I’m happy to see you again, Grandmother.”
“As am I to see you.” Rachael had spotted Lieutenant Percy. “Oh dear. How embarrassing. I’m told that he has a new scar or two.”
“You are too well infor
med as usual, Grandmother,” Yank chuckled and turned to Marina. “When I was a boy, I thought she could read minds.”
“Who says that I cannot,” Rachael replied. She put her hand on Yank’s arm and her face became serious. “I thought that I should tell you, on behalf of our family, that you handled that situation with Lieutenant Percy very well. It was my fault that it reached the point that it did. Marina refused to see him when he called but I, being more sociable than sensible, received him.”
“There is no harm done,” Yank replied. “David tells me that Percy’s a fine officer. I suspect that the boy’s pride and his very minor wounds will have healed by the time his ship is refitted.” He looked toward her carriage. “Have you changed your mind about accompanying us to Albany?”
She turned to follow his gaze. “No. Albany is too cold and I’ve seen the Hudson many times. Why do you ask?”
“The luggage.”
“Oh. The luggage is for an extended trip to New Jersey where I plan to help Nannette spoil your children.”
“Please try to make your son visit a doctor while you are there,” Marina suggested. “His leg is much worse.”
“Thomas has never taken advice from me,” Rachael grumbled. “Or from anyone else. Except his father, perhaps.”
“It’s too cold for you here, Grandmother,” Yank said. “Let me walk you to your carriage.” He took her arm. “Thank you for coming to see us off.”
“Wait a moment.” Rachael extracted her arm. “I didn’t come only to see you off; I wanted to give something to Marina.” She took a small, velvet covered jewelry box from her pocket. “John commissioned Paul Revere to make this for Anna.”
Marina opened the box and gasped. “Why, it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” She looked at Yank.
“I’ve never seen it before,” Yank said.
Rachael smiled. “Mr. Revere started on it early in the war but didn’t finish it until after. I’ve been saving it for Anna’s granddaughter.” She patted Marina’s hand. “Now you must keep it for her.”
January 3, 1806
The Hudson River, New York
Marina awoke in a panic. The ship was filled with a groaning sound and moving oddly.
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