The New Land

by The New Land (retail) (epub)

  “Well, Armstrong says they’re gathering a grand fleet and expedition against Louisbourg. If we can take Louisbourg, that’ll clear the French off the water and push the Indians back up to Quee-bec. Then we can get out of the stockades.”

  “Didn’t the settlers take Louisbourg in the last war, only to have King George hand it back to Louis?”

  “That they did, won it fair and square, and that the king did, too, give it right back he did. Don’t expect me to defend that cursed man. He killed my kinsmen.”

  “If there’s no way out of the stockades but to fight for Louisbourg, by God I’ll do it. Let’s get on with it.”

  The two men and the boy watched the fire die down. McDonnell stood and started throwing snow on the fire. “For tomorrow night, the Marlborough stockade and the Cumberland will need men on the watchtower. You can cover one with old Schroeder. I recruited him for it. He’s made no secret of the fact that he despises Nungesser.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll cover the other with Alec.”

  “Robert, wait a minute. The boy’s only thirteen.”

  “Alec’s taller than half the guards, shoots better than most of them, and can see farther than all of them, including you and me. He’ll do fine. Actually, I think we should get him into the regular schedule.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “See, Alec. I told you Mr. Overstreet would listen to reason.” As Johann stood, a grin came over McDonnell’s face. He leaned over and said softly, “And wait till that little girl hears that Alec’s one of the guards.” He winked.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  †

  While two seamen pulled the boat’s oars in rhythm, Leichter cocked an eyebrow at Johann. “D’you care for the general’s boat?”

  Johann rubbed his arms against the chill. He gave a small smile and shrugged, squinting into the rising sun, its silver reflection spreading across the bay. General Waldo’s sloop had arrived the evening before. This morning, Leichter arrived at the Prince of Wales stockade with an invitation for Captain Overstreet to breakfast on shipboard. Johann was glad to have a clean shirt for the day. He had scraped his cheeks red for the meeting.

  He knew what the meeting was about. For two weeks, Broad Bay had talked of little else than the expedition to Louisbourg. Not even the melting of the river ice was more important. King George was rousing Britain’s military might to protect his settlers in the new world.

  After Johann scrambled up the sloop’s ladder, two men in matching hunting shirts and coats pulled him up over the rail. Each had a pistol in his waistband and picked up a musket once Johann was aboard. Leichter climbed up unassisted, then gestured for Johann to enter the captain’s cabin. He didn’t follow.

  “Ah, Captain Overstreet,” Waldo said, looking up from a writing desk. “Welcome.” He beckoned a sailor with a teakettle to enter. “Tea, Captain? We have cream and sugar.”

  Johann sat at the indicated place. The table was set for two. The meal began with porridge that didn’t compare to Christiane’s, but moved on to roast chicken and a poached fish that were unlike anything Johann had eaten. He wished Christiane might have such food. That would keep her appetite keen.

  Waldo, dark eyes hooded under his heavy brow, ate steadily, without passion, evidently feeling no need for conversation. He watched Johann eat, then offered an extra biscuit as Johann’s pace slowed. Johann took it. Steam rose from it when he broke it open. Waldo pushed a small dish of honey across the table. Johann spooned it over the biscuit. He was glad to be bribed with this fine meal. He already wanted to do what Waldo would ask him to do. Christiane had agreed.

  When Johann finished the biscuit, Waldo nodded for more tea, then waved the sailor from the cabin. Johann admired the china teacup for a moment, then admired the cabinet work that lined the cabin. Made in Boston, he thought. He would like to be able to build such compartments. They followed the curves of the ship’s walls and sealed neatly with latches. With an effort, he looked back at Waldo.

  “Captain Overstreet, I need your help.”

  “General.”

  “You have heard of the expedition to Louisbourg, I trust.” Johann nodded. “You know that a bunch of us Yankees took that godforsaken fortress thirteen years ago, no thanks to His Royal Majesty’s admirable army?” Johann nodded. “And then the half-wits in the foreign office decided to give it back to the frogs when they signed the peace, so now we must capture it again, except this time the frogs know how we did it last time. And this time they’ll have a fleet there to stop us.” Johann nodded again, while Waldo drank off his tea.

  “You can speak, can’t you?”

  “I can.”

  “Ah. Good to have that settled.” Waldo pursed his lips in a disdainful look. “Well, the bastards are taking over the expedition this time round. They’re ginning up a great spanking army, one large enough to scare the frogs all the way back to Paris. We Yankees are riding along to lend a hand here and there, but the bastards in the red coats will be in charge. Theirs to be the glory. With any luck, theirs to be the bloodshed.”

  Johann nodded but couldn’t entirely suppress his amazement. “Ah, I surprise you, Captain? It’s deuced unpleasant to be a loyal subject of the king and to be treated like some rustic idiot with no more idea how to take Louisbourg than how to take a shit.”

  Johann smiled.

  “Ah, Captain, you are familiar with the British Army?”

  “I fought alongside them. I was at Dettingen.”

  “So you witnessed our king’s most glorious victory, eh?”

  “It is called a victory, General, but no battle is glorious. Dettingen wasn’t.”

  “Spoken like a man who fights other people’s battles, yet never gets the credit for winning them, eh, Captain?”

  “Louisbourg will be very much my battle. My family and I have been unable to live on our land for more than three years. Our son died of the pox. My wife is, well, she is like all of us, weary of how we must live, like prisoners in this new land. To end this war, I will fight.”

  “Well said. As you’re the only trained soldier in this settlement, and already the captain of the guards, I will appoint you captain of the Broad Bay company of irregulars.”

  “We must discuss this,” Johann said, “this Broad Bay company. Many of our neighbors have gone to Boston. The pox has taken others. We have few guards. If we send many soldiers to Louisbourg, the Indians will see. They’ll attack our families.”

  Waldo pursed his lips again and pushed his chair back from the table. He turned in his seat so he could cross a leg over his knee. “How many men do you think Broad Bay sent to take Louisbourg last time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Two hundred and fifty.” The number startled Johann. Today, the entire settlement might number that many if you included the women and children. “Of course, we can’t do anything like that now.”

  “We have thirty guards now, who all can shoot. Most are fit. A few are too old for a battle.”

  “We’ll need most of them.”

  “General, you can’t expect men to go off to war if they fear their wives and children will be killed while they’re away. They won’t stay at war.”

  “You’re saying the men of Broad Bay will desert their duties? The bastards won’t like to hear that. They’ll hang ‘em.”

  “I’m saying the men of any place will defend their families first.”

  “I’ve instructed Leichter that he will stay here in Broad Bay until your ranger company returns. He will take charge of defense and the guards.” Johann nodded. Leichter was a capable man. “So, Captain, how many can we bring to Louisbourg?”

  Johann thought for a moment. “Fifteen.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Perhaps twenty. Perhaps eighteen. But we’ll have to train more guards to replace those who go.”

  “Do it quickly. The expedition will gather in Halifax next month. We’ll have the best equipment His Brittannic Majesty can provid
e. The soldiers will be kitted with the coats and hunting shirts that those fellows on deck are wearing.”

  “There are other matters.” Impatience crossed Waldo’s face, then he nodded. “I’ll need to appoint my own sergeant.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “Robert McDonnell. He acts now as my second for the guards.”

  “McDonnell. Isn’t he a Jacobite?” Waldo maintained a bland expression as he posed the question.

  “We Germans don’t know those distinctions. He knows how to be a soldier.”

  “Well, our king has recruited Highland regiments for the expedition, and there’s doubtless many a refugee from Culloden in them. What else?”

  “What will the pay be?”

  “Ah. Excellent question. Seven pounds sterling per month, per soldier.”

  “In silver?”

  “Yes, in silver.”

  “And if the final month is not a complete month, we will be paid a proportionate share of the seven pounds for that month?”

  “Captain Overstreet,” a smile played over Waldo’s face, “I form the suspicion that you have been trading with Mr. Armstrong. These are Yankee questions, not German ones.”

  “To be German is not to be a fool.”

  “I take your point. The pay for the last month will be proportionate, as you say.”

  “And for any who die in the expedition, their families will be paid a full share for their service.”

  “Unless,” Waldo raised an eyebrow, “we have to hang them for desertion or insubordination.” Johann nodded and prepared to stand. Waldo took advantage of the pause to lean forward. “You haven’t asked about your pay as captain.”

  “It must be more than seven.”

  “Ten.”

  “That is fair.” Johann looked over Waldo’s shoulder for a few beats and furrowed his brow. “Who will command the expedition?”

  “A fellow by the name of Jeffrey Amherst.”

  Johann shook his head. “I don’t know him.”

  “Well, you would never have seen him on a battlefield. Apparently he’s never had a fighting command. A staff officer, don’t you know.” Waldo sighed. “Most of his fighting will be done by this strapping new brigadier, James Wolfe.”

  Johann tilted his head a few degrees. “A red-haired man?”

  “Never laid eyes on him. Be on warning. The word is that he hates all Americans. Thinks we’re stupid and cowardly. I’d give him a wide berth.”

  “And you, Excellency? You’ll be at Louisbourg?”

  “I’m supposed to be advising General Amherst and the high command, fat lot of good that’s likely to do. I’ve been writing memoranda until my wrist hurts. I’m sure they use them to light fires with.” As they stood, Waldo spoke again. “Captain, I’ve spoken very candidly this morning.” Johann nodded. “There’s a lot about this expedition that makes my blood boil, but all of us who care about Broad Bay know that we have to win this fight. If we can take Louisbourg—take it again—our trade will open up, the French will be set back on their heels, and we can push them back to Quebec, then to France. Louisbourg’s the key. With any luck, we’ll get you men home before the snow falls again.”

  “Yes, General.” Johann stood at attention and saluted. Waldo did the same, then smiled. “Do us proud, Captain. I’ll be watching, and so will the bastards.”

  * * * * * *

  Christiane had Franklin on one hip as they approached the landing. She took Johann’s elbow with her free hand. Fog had hung over the bay for most of the morning, but a breeze was blowing it off. The wind promised fair sailing to Boston, where the Broad Bay rangers would join others destined for Louisbourg.

  Johann carried Hanna, her eyes red from crying tears that Christiane was holding back. Walther carried his father’s pack with his second shirt, mittens, and second pair of stockings. Freya patrolled in front, pausing to greet a large retriever. Johann looked fine in his ranger shirt and coat. His three-cornered hat featured a captain’s blue cockade. Other families stood awkwardly at the landing. Anxiety muted their voices. Few could say what was in their hearts.

  Christiane understood why Johann must go. He was the only soldier in Broad Bay. The others would follow him. If the expedition succeeded, then life in Broad Bay might become normal. And, of course, his dienst demanded it.

  She thought of the coming months as God testing them again. He never seemed to tire of it. Before they left for America, her pastor back home had said that God would never lay a burden on her that she couldn’t bear. She knew now that wasn’t true.

  Leichter greeted them at the water’s edge. “Captain,” he said with a smile, “shall we load the first group?”

  Johann looked around. “Perhaps in five minutes. Let them know so they can say their good-byes.” Still holding Hanna, he crouched before Walther.

  “You must always help your mother and take care of her. I couldn’t go without knowing you’ll be here to do that. Can I rely on you, Son?”

  The little boy nodded. He pulled up his arm in a salute, but Johann quickly took hold of that hand. “Only soldiers salute, Walther. You will not understand this now, but it is my wish that you never become a soldier. Let me be the last Overstreet to do that.” They shook hands.

  Christiane couldn’t help smiling as he stood. “You’re also the first Overstreet to be a soldier.”

  Johann gave his relaxed smile, the one where his eyes softened. “Be well, Christiane.” She nodded, her throat suddenly closed up. Franklin rubbed his head against her shoulder. Johann embraced her quickly, squashing Franklin and Hanna slightly. He lowered his head to look into Christiane’s eyes. “I will come back. I always have. You must be here for me. All of you.” Her tears began to spill.

  “Don’t do anything brave, Johann,” she whispered. “Promise me.”

  He kissed Franklin and Hanna, then set the little girl down next to her mother. He hugged her and Walther together. Lifting his pack, he nodded to Leichter.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  †

  The Broad Bay rangers, in double file, moved quickly through the damp woods. It was their third week in the small British town of Halifax, Nova Scotia, which meant they were three hundred miles from Louisbourg in a place where the sun never shone. The rangers carried their muskets against their bodies, right hand gripping the stock, left hand under the barrel. Only Sergeant McDonnell, the best marksman, carried a rifle. When a shot rang out, the double line split, half the men diving to the left and the rest to the right. They scrambled to what cover they could find and reached for their cartridge boxes. More shots echoed over the hills. The rangers readied their guns while lying on their backs, rising at least part way to load powder and ball, a tricky business when under attack. But they couldn’t carry loaded muskets through wet country. That would mean soggy cartridges and damp powder.

  McDonnell, who trailed the column, slid forward on the sloppy ground and tapped the leg of the man in front of him. Wilhelm Koch, who was too old for any army, rose to his hands and knees and began to move diagonally away from their line of march. McDonnell followed. After forty yards, the two men began to circle their attackers. They knew that Johann and Alf Meisner were following a mirror path on the other side. The other men began to fire. Then came the bosun’s shrill whistle.

  A British colonel rode down the slope on a dapple grey. “Form up!” a Highlander sergeant bellowed to his troops. The attackers, three dozen tartaned men, emerged from the woods and jogged into two lines. They stood at rigid attention. The Broad Bay rangers, their dark coats mud-spattered from their dive for cover, moved less briskly into their double line. The Highlanders, even without their impressive headgear, were taller and broader than the rangers, except for McDonnell.

  “All right, then,” the colonel said as he halted his horse. “Take a good look at yourselves.” The men in both groups looked around with some puzzlement. “You men of the 34th.” The colonel faced the Highlanders. “You look clean and bright. Still have your hats o
n. And our provincials are quite filthy, ain’t they?” Several Scots smiled. “Unfortunately, war ain’t a tea party, gentlemen. If this had been a fight, those fine plaids would be covered with blood. Your blood.”

  The colonel turned to face Johann. “Captain, what was wrong with the ambush?”

  “Their men were well-concealed, sir.”

  “I know that. I asked what was wrong with it. You and your sergeant noticed that right off, didn’t you, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir,” McDonnell said. “They came at us only from the front. Indians would put a few before us, like they did, but they’d keep most behind and drive us back into that trap.”

  “Captain,” the colonel turned back to the Highlanders, addressing their leader. “What was wrong with the counter-ambush techniques?” The colonel walked his mount down the line of Highlanders, then called over his shoulder. “Ranger Captain. What was wrong with your techniques?”

  “We were slow getting out on the wings.”

  “You were not,” the colonel said. “You moved quickly. Try again.”

  “There weren’t enough of us to turn the ambush against them.” Johann nodded at the Highlanders. “After a while, they might’ve overrun us.”

  “Then why did you attack?”

  “They might run. We know the woods and they don’t. And you don’t want to get run down from behind. Not ever.”

  “Also, Captain, you got dirty, didn’t you, all that crawling around for cover?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dirty but alive. The enemy,” the colonel spoke to the Highlanders, “knows everything that this man just taught you.” He turned to the Highlander sergeant. “Return to camp.”

  Johann allowed his rangers to drink from their canteens and brush themselves off. “Dirty but alive, eh?” McDonnell called out to them. The rangers grinned. A couple of them laughed. The Highlanders marched off in parade formation, four abreast through the woods.

  “I’ll bet that’s how Braddock and his boys marched too,” McDonnell said to Johann.