Casca 36: The Minuteman

by Tony Roberts

  The streets were partly paved and partly hard frozen rutted mud. November wasn’t a pleasant month in New York and it was desirable to get indoors as fast as possible. Ebenezer Maplin rubbed his hands and looked around with a pleased expression on his face. “Ah, New York, at last! Our new home, Rose. Aren’t you happy to be here?”

  “No, father,” Rose said in a flat voice. “I hate it.”

  “Nonsense, you’ve just arrived! You’re cold and not had a decent meal inside you. Once that’s been taken care of you’ll change your mind. Now, where’s our reception committee?”

  The four soldiers assigned to protect Rose by Sir Richard said nothing; they had orders and apart from following them to the letter would not get involved in anything. Now that they were in New York with the rest of the army they felt safer and more secure.

  Ebenezer looked around again. He spied an approaching carriage, the two brown horses blowing plumes of cold air from their nostrils. “Ah, this must be it.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the waiting people and their luggage, piled on the jetty. All around them the others who had disembarked were making their way into the city or going about their dockside tasks. The noise was continuous. The driver of the carriage climbed down to stow the luggage on the roof while the passenger, a darkly dressed slim man jumped off the rear board and presented himself, raising hat and bowing low to the two. “Lady Rose, Mr. Ebenezer, may I present myself, Courtney. I’m Sir Richard’s butler. I’m to escort you to the Eley residence. Please make yourself comfortable inside.” He opened the carriage door and waited as Rose was helped in by her father, noting the reluctant way she accepted his hand, then closed it after Ebenezer got in. Pete smiled briefly to himself. It was going to plan so far, but up to now it had been easy. The few days he’d been in New York had seen him get a job as butler, thanks to the contacts of Katherine Maplin, high society people themselves who had forged letters of introduction that practically ensured Pete got the job in the Eley residence. With Sir Richard involved in the siege of Fort Washington and only being able to visit the house twice briefly, once to interview him, the baronet hadn’t really had time to assess whether the new butler was up to the job.

  Pete didn’t give a damn. He was going to get Rose out as soon as he possibly could. He had no intention of hanging around, for the longer he remained there the more likely it would be that someone would trip him up with his lack of knowledge of service. So far there were only four other servants in the house, and one of them, Bradbury, the valet, was with Sir Richard. That left the cook, housemaid and scullery maid, all women, so he ruled the roost, so to speak. But once the owner and his valet returned, Pete was certain his time would be up. So he needed to send the signal that evening to pick her up the following night at a spot from New York he would be signaling from. No use dragging Rose all across the countryside – they would be seen easily. No, once he made his move things would have to be done quickly.

  With the four soldiers marching behind the carriage, they rumbled away from the dockside and passed through the wide streets and tall, grand buildings into the heart of the city. Here, on one of the widest streets, the aptly-named Broad Street, was the Eley residence, and the carriage came to a halt outside the white colored edifice. Railings bordered the wide stone steps up to the paneled front door with its long brass door knocker, and Pete opened the door and stepped aside to allow father and daughter to enter the grand hallway.

  The carriage rumbled off with the soldiers around the block to the rear entrance. They would enter the house via the servant’s entrance. Pete closed the door and bowed again. “Please, through the doorway there is the drawing room, and on the other side the dining room. Up the stairs you will find your bedrooms. Lady Rose, your bedroom will be next to Sir Richard’s, while your bedroom, Mr. Ebenezer, is across the corridor. Allow me to show you. You may be fatigued after your long journey. I shall allow you to get used to your rooms. Dinner will be served at eight.” He led the two up the curved wide staircase up to the landing. There were no paintings on the large blank walls and it gave them a cold, sterile look, but no doubt Sir Richard would change that fairly promptly, as he would the current absence of furnishings or rugs along the landing. There were doors at either end and along the wall facing the stairwell, and the first door reached was Ebenezer’s, at one end of the landing. Pete opened the door and allowed Maplin to go in and look around. He then took Rose along to one of the doors facing the stairwell and opened it, reaching inside his waistcoat as he did so.

  “Ma’am,” he said softly, “I have a letter for you.”

  Rose turned in surprise and looked at the envelope. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Casca’s handwriting. She looked at Pete in astonishment, but the pseudo butler merely winked, put a finger to his lips and backed out, shutting the door behind him.

  The next thing he had to arrange was the journey out of New York. Fortunately he’d already planned for it and had on his desk top the lantern he’d take with him to signal to Casca at midnight. The means to get there would be on horseback. One of the two horses used for the carriage would be saddled up out the rear and hopefully he’d only be gone a short while before he was missed.

  Rose went to her bed and sat down in a daze, almost too frightened to open the letter, but finally, with a shaking hand, she did. The letter inside was like the key to her prison. It told her of the plan to get her away from Sir Richard’s clutches and to trust Pete Courtney. It also advised her to destroy the letter, so that’s what she did, tearing it into tiny pieces and stuffing them down the cracks in the floorboards of her room.

  She didn’t notice the passage of time that late afternoon, such was the state of her mind, whirling with thoughts and hopes, and it was only when her father knocked on her door did she stir. “Come in,” she said, hoping it was the butler, Courtney, with some more news of her lover, Lonnergan.

  But it was her father, and her face clouded. Ebenezer didn’t notice. He was still excited at the prospect of establishing the business in New York. He was impatient to go to the warehouses on the west side where his goods were, or at least, where they last were before the revolt. He had already agreed with Sir Richard that the munitions they were to import into the Americas would come here into those very same warehouses. He would have to look to hire people, but that was for the morrow. Now he wanted to settle in and have dinner. He was hungry. “Rose, you haven’t changed.”

  “My clothes are not here, father,” she said. To be honest, she hadn’t noticed, she’d been that preoccupied.

  “Oh!” Ebenezer snorted. “That butler is useless! I shall be having words with Sir Richard about him, mark my words!”

  “No, father, I’m sure it was an accident,” Rose protested.

  “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Wait here.”

  “Father…” Rose began but Ebenezer was already out of the room and stomping down the stairs. She sighed and sat back on the bed. There was little interest in what she had to say. She couldn’t wait until Courtney came to her to tell her when they were to leave. It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Pete was brushing down his coat when Ebenezer found him. “You, Courtney, why have you neglected your duties?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Pete looked up, amazed. He hadn’t been spoken to like that for a long time, not since his mother used to berate him for being late for some function or other.

  “The luggage, man! Why has it not been brought up to our rooms? We require a change of clothing for dinner. What sort of butler are you?”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware the luggage had been left outside the house.”

  “It isn’t! It’s in the hallway, man! You must have passed it a dozen times since taking us to our rooms!”

  “No, as a matter of fact I haven’t been in the hallway since coming down to this room. I shall attend to it at once.” Pete bowed ironically to the outraged Maplin and brushed past him, leaving him spluttering in the small
office. In the hallway the luggage had been piled untidily by the driver and left there. Pete sighed. It would take a few trips up and down the staircase to take care of it all, so he began with two fairly large cases, and after lifting both at once, decided to take just the one.

  He wondered just what was in the case. Looking at the label it was old man Maplin’s, so he dumped it by the doorway and returned downstairs. Maplin was by the cases, his face red with anger. “I shall be having a word with Sir Richard about your attitude, Courtney.”

  “You do that. Do you want your luggage taken upstairs or not? If you carry on like this you’ll have to do it yourself. Now leave me to do my job.” Pete knew he shouldn’t have spoken that way but he was fed up with Maplin’s attitude, and besides, this wasn’t his livelihood. As soon as he could, he would be away with Rose and then could return to the army. Just the few days as a butler had reinforced his conviction that he was fighting for the right side.

  Maplin stood back, then stamped up the stairs, muttering about attitudes. Pete took up the rest of the luggage, leaving Maplin’s by the door, but after placing Rose’s by her door, knocked and waited for her to open it. After a few moments she did, and looked relieved. “Oh! Courtney! Come in!”

  “Call me Pete, please,” he said in a pleading manner, staggering in with two of Rose’s bags. “I’ve had enough of your father treating me like a piece of dirt.”

  “Oh, ignore him; he’s as bad as Sir Richard. I hate him!” She helped Pete place the bags in the corner by a huge wardrobe, then stood in front of him, hands clasped together. “Please tell me you’ll get me out of this horrible place!”

  “Sure,” Pete said. “Tomorrow night, after dinner. Do you have any sensible clothing? Rough clothes, not a dress?”

  “I’ll find some, don’t worry. Nothing’s going to keep me here!”

  Pete left her and returned downstairs, checking on the cook and the preparations for dinner. He had little idea as to the arrangements for the meal but he had collared the two maids to assist, telling them that as the household was still short of servants, they all had to muck in. Fortunately the two maids were fairly experienced at their jobs and took to it without complaining, and Pete was happy enough to leave them to it.

  Dinner was served without too much in the way of anxiety, although Maplin and Rose sat mostly silently at the table; she wasn’t speaking to him and he was still furious at the slap dash way the luggage had been dealt with. The cook dished up the courses in the right order, Pete noted with relief, so all he had to do was to carry the dishes to the table through the passageway.

  Straight after the meal he donned his change of clothing and made his way out to the stable, at the rear of the property, and placed a saddle on one of the horses. During his time in the east he’d ridden, so the procedure wasn’t new to him. Keeping the lantern close to his body he trotted out through the archway onto the street and made for the countryside to the north, hoping he could find the approximate spot he’d landed all those days ago.

  Casca rose from his chair in the cottage and decided it was time to go outside and watch for the signal. It was nearly midnight. He’d had no signal for some time and was concerned things had gone wrong. He’d give it two more days and then look to try a different tactic.

  The air was chill and he stuck his hands in his pockets. The coat kept him mostly warm but the wind coming off the river was like a knife against his skin. God, it was cold! He scanned the Manhattan shore unenthusiastically and paced up and down a few times, just as much to keep warm as to pass the time. The sounds of the wind and the deep gurgling of the waters below were all he could hear. The lights of New York glittered to the south, off to his right, but he wasn’t interested in them. It was the shoreline directly opposite.

  Then, suddenly, there it was. He stared, and sure enough a light was waving to and fro. Excitedly he peered and watched as the light began flickering on and off as the lantern was covered and then uncovered. Two flashes, a pause, one flash, another pause, then three flashes. Casca saw the message repeated twice more then it went out.

  He felt a surge of hope. Pete was going to bring Rose to the shore, but along the river bank in New York itself. Casca knew it was risky and a wider crossing, but he guessed it was because it would be tougher to get Rose out of the city and across country.

  He began preparing himself for the crossing almost at once.

  Pete clambered up the slope back to his horse, and was checked by the tall shape of a man holding a musket with a bayonet on the end. The three cornered hat and the coat told him this was a soldier without any doubt. He must have seen the horse and come to investigate. Of all the bad luck!

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” the soldier demanded, pointing the musket at Pete.

  “Looking for rabbits for dinner,” Pete said quickly. “Plenty around here. You seen them?”

  “Uh? Rabbits? Tell me another one, mate,” the soldier said with disbelief. He stared at Pete in the near darkness, not sure whether he was armed or not. He prodded forward with the bayonet. “Let’s see your face, mate, and no funny business, alright?”

  Pete shrugged. “Want me to put my lantern down first? It’s heavy.”

  “Go on, but slowly.” The guard leveled the point of the bayonet at Pete’s chest.

  Pete dropped the lantern and it crashed noisily, toppling over and the glass shattered. The guard looked down in reflex, which was what Pete was hoping for. He stepped forward, his hand chopping downwards, knocking the gun barrel down. The guard reacted fast but Pete was already swinging a fist towards the soldier’s face and it connected, snapping his head back. Not waiting to see if the guard was out of action or not, he sent another blow into the man’s gut, doubling him up. Two more heavy blows to the back of the neck sent the guard to the ground out cold.

  Pete stood over him, breathing heavily. He had to get out of there fast, so he mounted up, leaving the soldier and the lantern where they had fallen, and rode off back to New York, hoping nobody had seen him. The darkness of the night was his ally and he saw nobody.

  Getting back to the city he dismounted, tended to the horse and put away the saddle and tack, then entered the house at the rear and made his way to his office. Lights were still burning in the house even though it was well past midnight. Standing in his office examining the paperwork was a slim man with his back to the door. “Who are you?” Pete demanded, standing in the doorway.

  Bradbury turned round and smiled in a way Pete didn’t care for. “Ah, there you are. You’re the new butler, Courtney, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here on Sir Richard’s behest. He would like to see you in the study immediately. He has a few words to say to you.”

  Pete’s heart dropped and his legs felt weak. He hoped to God his plan hadn’t been discovered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Casca impatiently waited throughout the day. It seemed every minute dragged and became an hour, and each hour felt like a week. He checked and rechecked his equipment. Lantern, musket, knife, clothing. Not much, and it took but a few moments to go through all of them. The boat was fine, too, as were the oars. He studied the far shore again and again. A British warship was anchored not too far off the route he wished to take, but it wasn’t that close so he discounted it.

  There were a couple of large buildings he identified that he would steer for. They should provide the best landmark. He had made his way down the river from the cottage to a point opposite New York and gauged how long it would take him to row. Nightfall would be about seven hours before midnight so he would have to wait in the open, freezing his balls off. He used the remaining hours of daylight to good effect, becoming used to the terrain and where to go once he had made landfall here after the return journey.

  Now all he could do was wait.

  * * *

  Pete Courtney was also waiting for the right hour. Sir Richard had interrogated him over the luggage epi
sode and his whereabouts when he had returned to the house just after midnight. Pete had lamely explained the latter on exercising the horse as it had seemed lame, but he’d found nothing wrong with it. Sir Richard hadn’t been that impressed with the explanation, and Bradbury had stood behind Pete, looking at him in a way Pete didn’t care much for.

  He’d been dismissed to his room thereafter, but Sir Richard had warned him to improve or he’d be thrown out, shortage of servants or not. Bradbury had smirked as he’d passed, and Pete badly wanted to punch him in the mouth.

  Rose hadn’t been happy to see her new husband either. Sir Richard had welcomed her by dragging her to his bedroom and stating she would have to start behaving like a wife to him, whereupon she’d retorted he should begin to act like a husband. That had elicited a slap across the face and then Sir Richard had produced a riding crop and had proceeded to whip her. Her screams had echoed throughout the house. Pete had gone to the bottom of the stairs and started up, but Bradbury had blocked his way. “Sir Richard’s affairs are his business and not ours,” the valet had said.

  “But – she’s in pain!” Pete had protested.

  “Do you wish me to report your concerns to Sir Richard on the morrow, Courtney?” Bradbury had asked silkily.

  “No,” Pete had replied, a look of intense dislike on his face.

  At the top of the stairs Ebenezer Maplin had appeared, hovering outside the bedroom door. “Is everything alright, Sir Richard?” he’d asked.

  “Yes. Go away. I’m dealing with my wife!” Sir Richard had snapped.

  That was all there had been to it, and so the table at breakfast had been silent, each person being occupied with their own thoughts. Rose had clearly been crying and she’d looked up at Pete, beseechingly. Pete nodded briefly and winked.

  Bradbury had caught it.

  So now the evening had come and dinner was called. Bradbury carried the plates to the table while Pete stood in the corner, wondering what the hell to do. He was supposed to do something, but what he didn’t know. The three diners didn’t speak much but Sir Richard kept on glaring at Rose who looked down at her plates and contributed nothing to the conversation, while Ebenezer tried to engage Sir Richard in matters of business.