Casca 36: The Minuteman

by Tony Roberts

  “It can wait until next week, Ebenezer,” Sir Richard said heavily. “My concerns are currently on army business and the attack on Fort Washington. I’m expected back on duty in two days’ time. We are to assault the fort in the near future, so I’m told.”

  “So shall I clear the goods in the warehouses to make way for the munitions and army supplies?”

  “Yes, yes, do that,” Sir Richard said irritably. “Courtney, don’t stand there like a shop dummy. Assist Bradbury in clearing the table. And then arrange for port to be available in the drawing room.”

  “Yes, Sir Richard,” Pete said. It was getting late and soon he’d have to take Rose out of there and make for the river. He caught Rose’s eye and nodded briefly.

  Rose stood up abruptly. “I feel unwell,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Not too bad, my dear, I trust,” Sir Richard said, an edge to his voice. “I shall require your attention later when I retire.”

  “Ah – yes of course, husband,” Rose said, then left the room.

  Sir Richard chuckled. It would seem that Rose was close to breaking. She would soon be an obedient wife and bear him sons to carry on the name. He went to the drawing room and sat in the upholstered chair close to the fire and raised the glass of port that had been left for him, and reflected that life was beginning to turn his way.

  Ebenezer sat in the other and also took a glass of port, but he was much more withdrawn. He was wondering whether Sir Richard’s mind was fully on the business. He worried that unless things were attended to properly, things could go wrong.

  Bradbury reappeared and leaned over Sir Richard. He whispered into his ear and the baronet’s face clouded, then broke into a scowl. “Excuse me for a few minutes, Ebenezer, there is a little matter I must attend to. Help yourself to the port.”

  He strode out and went up the staircase two steps at a time. He barged into Rose’s room and found that, indeed, she was not there. His face a mask of fury, he went to his room and grabbed his sword. He came back down and Bradbury met him at the bottom. “Well?” he demanded.

  “Courtney is also gone, Sir Richard,” Bradbury said obsequiously.

  “Damn his black heart! Rouse the guards!”

  “Yes, Sir Richard.” Bradbury bowed and left to get the two soldiers who were on duty out the back. A few moments later Sir Richard and the two soldiers left the house and made their way through the streets, searching. The baronet called out and demanded an answer, attracting attention from a few houses.

  Pete hurried Rose through the dark streets towards the river. They had both changed quickly and were wearing dark clothing, muffled against the cold. Both kept on looking back in apprehension, and to left and right whenever they came to a junction. “Do you think they’ve missed us already?” Rose asked in a low voice.

  “I wouldn’t count against it,” Pete said. “That valet was looking at us very strangely indeed.”

  “Oh, I hope Cass is there!” she said.

  They walked past the looming shape of Trinity Church and came to a turn in the road and the river lay beyond the road’s edge, over a low wall and down a rocky slope. Pete helped Rose up over it, lifting her skirt. She didn’t have anything more practical than a rough riding skirt.

  Once again their luck was out. A shout went up. “Hey, you!”

  Pete looked up and saw a soldier unslinging his musket and breaking into a trot. “Damn,” Pete said. He handed Rose a new lantern he’d taken from the household and lit it. “Here, wave it side to side at the river’s edge. He’ll be looking out for it.”

  “What about you?” Rose asked fearfully.

  Pete dragged out his pistol from his coat folds and cocked it. “I’ll take care of this idiot. Now go, hurry up!”

  The soldier came running over, leveling his musket. Pete suddenly raised his pistol and aimed right at the chest of the soldier whose eyes widened in shock. The shot shattered the night and the soldier was pitched backwards to crash into the surface of the road. Dogs began barking and a few lights came on in surrounding houses.

  A few streets away Sir Richard and the two guards spun round. “It must be them!” Sir Richard said, and led the two men back the way they’d come and then down a side street. Sir Richard gripped his saber tightly, hoping to hell nobody had shot Rose, or else there’d be the devil to pay.

  Casca, too, had heard the shot, and stopped momentarily in his rowing, peering over his left shoulder. It had come from the direction to the left of the left hand tall building. He adjusted his course and began rowing harder, plowing through the water.

  Pete had reloaded and crouched by the low wall on the river side of it, watching for anyone approaching. People were coming into view, mostly from the houses, roused by the shot, but off to the right three figures appeared, two with muskets and the third holding a saber. Sir Richard. Damn. He turned to see what Rose was doing. Twenty yards away and a few feet below him Rose was waving the lantern side to side, hoping to attract Casca’s attention.

  She needn’t have worried; Casca had seen it and was making his way furiously towards her. He was now twenty feet away and Rose was calling out to him, having seen him at last.

  “Over there,” Sir Richard pointed with his saber, catching sight of the lantern being waved. “Come on!”

  Pete crouched low, then stood up right in front of the soldiers and discharged his pistol into the face of one of the two guards. Blood, bone and brains splattered out as the man was instantly turned into a corpse and toppled into an inert heap by the roadside. Sir Richard lashed out and sent Pete tumbling down the slope towards the bank, just as Casca arrived.

  Rose flung herself into his arms. “Oh my God, Cass! I’m so happy to see you! Get me away from that horrible man!”

  “Get into the boat, now, Rose.” Casca picked up his musket and cocked it. Pete was lying on the rocks ten feet from the river’s edge off to the right and a British soldier was clambering down, his bayonet ready to skewer the groaning man through the back. Casca wasted no time. His musket barrel swung and aimed at the soldier as he raised his weapon to drive the blade into Pete’s body. Casca’s shot took the man through the side and sent him flying back with a cry of pain.

  Shouts were coming from the streets now as more and more people came out of their houses. Sir Richard bounded down towards Casca, his face screwed into fury. Two more soldiers appeared at the top and one fired at the boat, narrowly missing it. Rose screamed.

  Sir Richard whirled in anger. “Stop firing you damned fool! My wife is in that boat! Pick up that man there!” he pointed at Pete who was struggling to his feet, one side of his face masked in blood. The two soldiers came down the slope, blocking off any chance Casca had of rescuing Pete. Sir Richard stepped forward again, his saber gripped tightly in his hand.

  Casca cursed and threw his musket into the boat and pushed hard, clambering into it and grabbing the oars as he settled into it. Sir Richard roared in outrage and made a grab for it but Casca back pedaled and the hasty grab missed. Sir Richard stood impotently with one boot in the river as Casca and Rose drifted away from them, the boat turning lazily.

  “Damn you, Lonnergan,” Sir Richard snarled. “I’ll have you hung for this!”

  “Too bad, Sir Richard,” Casca replied. “Looks like you can’t keep a woman, can you?”

  The baronet gnashed his teeth. He turned to the two men who were holding a groggy Pete between them. “Bring him here.”

  Casca and Rose watched as Pete was dragged before Sir Richard. By the wall faces were peering over, watching the entire tableau. “He’s your prisoner now, Sir Richard, I trust you’ll treat him fairly.”

  “Hah!” Sir Richard scoffed. “I’ll show you how I treat traitors.” He pulled an unsteady Pete round to face him, so that his back was to the river, and then ran him through with his saber. Rose cried out in horror, her hands to her face, and watched as Pete slowly slumped backwards to fall into the river with a splash.

  “You – murderi
ng bastard!” Casca breathed. “I’ll get even with you for that!”

  “Go try, you pathetic fool. I’ll get my wife back. I’ll have you declared a wife stealer as well as a traitor. You’ll be hunted all over the colonies, and you’ll not escape the hangman’s noose, mark my words.”

  “We’ll see about that, you murderer,” Casca said, then began rowing away, watched by a silent and unmoving Sir Richard and the two soldiers. Casca’s eyes never left the bobbing body of Pete until it vanished into the darkness, and then his journey was only accompanied by the sobbing of Rose.

  * * *

  They made the far bank without any further incident and made their way to the cottage along the narrow track that ran along the ground above the river bank. Rose was still shocked at Pete’s death and her rescue from the clutches of her husband, and hardly said a word even when Casca put her into the bed. He contented himself with sitting in a chair in the main living room, his musket in his lap, and sat facing the door. He couldn’t sleep. He was constantly going over in his mind the fate of Pete Courtney, and wondered if there had been anything he could have done to change things.

  The guilt of his murder rested on him heavily, and the rage deep in his heart wouldn’t abate until he dealt with Sir Richard, he knew that. But for the moment, he would have to report Private Courtney’s death to Colonel Haslett, his commanding officer, and to General Washington. He would also hand Rose over to the general who would then return her to Katherine. That task, at least, was complete. Casca knew that then there would remain the matter of the war and the dealing out of justice to Sir Richard Eley.

  The following day they made their way along the road to Fort Lee, accompanied by the sound of gunfire across the river. Fort Washington was under attack. It had come earlier than the day that Sir Richard had anticipated, which he’d told Rose at dinner. There were plenty of soldiers milling about the fort, all peering across the river at events unfolding there, smoke billowing up from the cannon blasting away.

  Casca took a couple of glances across but apart from that took little notice; whatever happened at Fort Washington wasn’t going to involve him, and besides, he had other things on his mind. General Washington wasn’t available, as expected, so Casca and Rose had to make do with a junior officer on Washington’s staff, a portly major who looked like a life-long headquarters man.

  It was a tiresome meeting; the major just couldn’t understand why a captain of the engineer corps was escorting the wife of a British major to an American fort and demanding she be handed over to General Washington. He merely kept on stating the general wasn’t available and that the two should return another day when things weren’t so busy.

  “For Christ’s sake,” Casca exploded, finally losing patience. “Listen here, Major. This woman requires passage to Philadelphia to her mother, something that the general has personally guaranteed. I don’t care if he’s swimming the Hudson with half of the garrison of Fort Washington on his back, I want to see him now!”

  “You won’t get anywhere with an attitude like that, Captain,” the major said sharply. “As I have explained repeatedly, it’s not possible to see the general.”

  “It is possible, Major, and if you don’t want to find yourself reduced in rank tomorrow I suggest you get hold of him and tell him I’m here with Mrs. Rose Eley. I also want to report a murder.”

  “A murder?” the major blinked in surprise.

  “Clearly you’re not the man to bring it to the attention of,” Casca waved a hand and looked at the open doorway, as if he expected to see Washington appear there.

  “What murder?” the major pressed.

  “I’m not at liberty to say to you, I’m afraid. Only for the ears of General Washington. It was one of the men sent by him on a mission he authorized.”

  The major tapped the desk impatiently. “If there has been a murder of one of our soldiers, then you must report it to me. I shall bring it to General Washington’s attention in due course.”

  Casca folded his arms. “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No, I won’t,” Casca glared at the idiot officer.

  “In that case I’m going to have to put you under arrest,” the major said threateningly.

  “Oh, go ahead and do it. Make yourself look an even bigger fool, if that’s at all possible,” Casca snapped.

  Rose made an exasperated noise. “Oh you two are like two children fighting over a toy! Major, I’ve been treated appallingly by my husband, a titled officer in the British army. This man here rescued me from him, but his colleague was killed in cold blood right in front of us by my husband. General Washington knows my mother to whom I wish to see, and surely you won’t turn down a lady in distress? I am the Lady Sandwell, after all.”

  Casca almost choked, looking away to stop himself laughing out loud. The major stared in disbelief at her at first, then realized she was being sincere. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am, the Lady Sandwell?”

  Rose sighed. “Yes, by marriage to Major Sir Richard Eley, Baronet Sandwell. If you don’t believe me, send a letter to the British in New York and they will confirm it.”

  The major hesitated, looked Rose in the eye, and caved in. “In that case, Lady Sandwell, I don’t think that’s necessary. It would be an honor to escort you personally to General Washington.”

  “Thank you, Major, you’re very gallant.”

  Casca placed his head in his hands and leaned forward, more to hide the expression on his face than anything else. The major rose up and waddled round to allow Rose to stand, offering his hand. Casca stood up too and composed himself. The major eyed Casca with hostility. “I’m sure it’s not necessary for you to come too.”

  “Oh, but Captain Lonnergan is my escort and protector,” Rose said.

  “Very well,” the major said with disappointment. Nevertheless, he held onto Rose’s arm and took her out of the block, Casca trailing behind. Rose turned her head and winked at him. Casca poked his tongue out in response.

  They walked along the fort’s walkways towards a knot of officers watching the battle through eyeglasses. “General, sir,” the major said to Washington, “the Lady Sandwell and escort.”

  Washington turned in surprise and saw Rose, dressed in sober clothing and Casca a few steps behind her. “Why, Rose, a delight to meet you at last! Your mother has told me a lot about you!” he leaned and kissed her hand. “Thank you, Major, that will be all.”

  “Sir,” the major saluted and waddled off. Casca waited patiently while Washington and Rose spoke a little, then Washington looked up. “Captain, thank you for rescuing the lady here. I shall ensure her safe passage to her mother in Philadelphia. I will read your report tomorrow. As you can see, things are busy here. We will talk further on this matter tomorrow. You may return to your quarters.”

  Casca had time to relax and reflect on the last few days while lying in his bunk. Now Rose was no longer a concern to him his mind turned to military matters. The British were clearly going to take Fort Washington; the Americans were in no position to relieve it and it was just a matter of time before it fell. Then what? Washington had spread his forces thin to guard every possible place the British could advance against, but if Howe pushed with most of his force anywhere they’d outnumber the Americans. It was the middle of November and surely there was little time left for a campaign. Men were deserting daily in numbers, reducing Washington’s men even further. Morale was low, Casca could sense it, and good intentions were one thing, but putting them into practice on the battlefield was quite another.

  There came a knock and Casca got to his feet. “Come in,” he said.

  Rose appeared and smiled at him. “Cass.”

  “Your mother wouldn’t be pleased, you know,” Casca said.

  “Oh?” Rose frowned, closing the door behind her and sitting on the only chair in the room. “How so?”

  “She’s expressly forbidden me to see you without a chaperone any more, now you’re married and what have you. Actually she
got me to agree not to see you even before that swine Eley married you.”

  “Why, Cass? Don’t you love me anymore?” Rose looked hurt.

  “Oh, hell, Rose, it’s not about love. Your mother saw what sort of man I am when I went to see her. Can’t recall exactly what she said but it was something like I’m a heartbreaker and bring women nothing but pain.”

  “Garbage,” Rose said decisively. “You’re a wonderful man, and I’ll tell her that. So she bullied you, did she?”

  “She’s a formidable woman, I tell you,” Casca grinned. “But now you’re married, there’s a social reputation to think of.”

  “Gah! Stuck-up hypocrites,” Rose scoffed. “I’m still the same as I was before that dreadful man got his hands on me.”

  “Not so,” Casca shook his head, sitting down on the bunk. “You’ve a title now. You’re a lady. You called yourself that this afternoon.”

  “Only to get past that prig of a major. You were heading for arrest, remember?”

  “Aye. But your mother will explain the situation better than me; I saw something of that when I last saw your mother in New York just before the British arrived.”

  “Oh?”

  Casca retold the dinner party event and how Mrs. Warrington described Katherine. Rose huffed. “See what I mean? Stuck-up hypocrites. Still, you’re right, now I’m married I shouldn’t really be in this room alone with you, it may cause a scandal. I really wanted to come here to thank you for what you’ve done. If you do have the chance to visit Philadelphia again, you’ll know where to find us. I’d love it if you did visit.”

  Casca nodded. “If I’m around I’ll certainly pop in, don’t you worry.”

  Rose stood and kissed Casca lightly on the cheek, then was gone. The Eternal Mercenary touched his cheek for a moment, then threw himself onto his bunk and swore fluently for the next two minutes until he ran out of words he could remember.