Cannons for the Cause

by Martin Ganzglass

  “Tell me who will be there again,” Will asked, seeking some reassurance.

  “Colonel and Mrs. Knox, the Colonel’s brother, William, Colonel Glover without his wife Hannah, who is ill in Salem, and you and me.” He stopped and grabbed Will by the shoulders. “It is only six people. You know everyone except Mrs. Knox. Your nervousness is inexplicable to me.” He clapped his friend on both shoulders. “You are going to dinner. Not your execution. Come on. We must not be late.”

  Will muttered something in response and Nat stopped and turned.

  “Now what, Will?”

  “Nat, I have never been to a dinner before. I don’t have your manners or experience. I always eat in a kitchen, or in a barn, or around a campfire. From a wooden bowl. What if I do the wrong thing? What if I spill some food or gravy on the table? Or break something? Or forget and eat with my knife? And this shirt you gave me to wear is too fancy. I feel funny in it, with these cuffs and frills. This is all wrong,” Will said, shaking his head. He quickly reached behind to make sure his queue was secure. Nat had lent him a black ribbon and showed him how to tie it. He stood stock still, as if his boots were frozen to the snow covered cobblestones.

  “Will,” Nat said sharply to get his attention. “Calm yourself. I promise you will enjoy this evening. Here is the thing to remember. Just do as I do,” he said more gently, ignoring several drunken militiamen who staggered past them, supporting each other. “When I use a fork, use a fork. If I cut meat with a knife, you do the same. Watch and follow. We will all be doing the same thing. Colonel Knox and Colonel Glover. It will be easy. Now come on. I am not going to be late for a dinner in my own honor.” He grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along until they reached a solid square brick house, two stories high. The first-floor rooms were all warmly aglow with candlelight.

  “We are here. Wipe your boots on the scraper,” Nat ordered, pointing to an iron blade mounted on a low worn wooden frame to the left. Nat lifted the lion’s head brass knocker and let it fall twice.

  Will took a deep breath. “I can do this,” he repeated to himself. “All I have to do is to follow Nat’s lead.” I must not embarrass myself for Nat’s sake, he thought, as an orderly of the Massachusetts Artillery, resplendent in his dark blue uniform, opened the door.

  “Ah. Our guest of honor, the bridegroom to be,” Colonel Knox boomed out, emerging into the entry hall. The candles in the overhead chandelier flickered from the cold wind and steadied as the door closed behind them. “And Will. It is good to see you, my boy. Come into the front parlor near the fire. You must meet my Lucy.”

  Will glanced to his left into the dining room and felt his stomach knot up. The table was set with silverware and real dishes. He counted three different-sized glasses beside each plate. He gaped at the elaborately carved dark wood spiral posts supporting the banister of the stairs leading up to the second floor. Hesitantly, he followed the Colonel and Nat into the parlor. Colonel Glover stood in front of a marble fireplace, one arm resting on the mantel, the other tucked behind the back of his long navy blue dress coat. His bright red hair was tied back with a black velvet ribbon and his cheeks seemed more ruddy in the glow from the fire. Will felt self-conscious in his white ruffled shirt and coarse brown pants.

  “My dear, our other guests have arrived.”

  Mrs. Knox was sitting in a high backed chair facing the fire. She rose and turned to greet Nat and Will. She was a tall woman with a long round face and thin lips. Her eyes were deep brown and exuberant. Her chestnut brown hair was gathered in a bun in the back, held by a thick pink ribbon that matched the color of her dress. The dress was modestly cut to reveal some, but not too much, of the pale white skin of her neck and bosom. The sleeves ended in a kind of bloused bunch of fabric at the elbow with a sheer handkerchief fabric extending midway down her forearms. Her eyebrows were long and curved in a charming way to accentuate her deep brown eyes. She was taller than Nat and shorter than Will. And she was obviously very pregnant.

  Will did his best not to stare at her swollen belly. Mrs. Knox held out her hand, first to Nat, who affected a slight bow, and then to Will, who awkwardly imitated his friend, scraping his boots on the floor in the process.

  “It is good to see you again, Lieutenant Holmes. And looking so handsome in preparation for your wedding.” Nat’s hand involuntarily went to the bruise on his forehead that had progressed in color from purple and yellow to a darker blue. It would not be gone by the day of the ceremony, although it would not be as obvious as it was tonight in the brightly lit room.

  Mrs. Knox turned her attention to Will. “So, you are the young man who has been reading Tom Jones,” she said, holding on to his hand. Her voice was light and mirthful with a distinct English accent. “I very much enjoyed Mr. Fielding exposing the hypocrisy of British nobility and their class distinctions, although I found his attitude condescending toward women.” She cocked her head to one side and looked up at him. “What do you think, Will? May I call you that?”

  “Yes ma’m,” he replied.

  “Oh, please. Call me Lucy,” she said waving her hand at him. “Ma’m sounds too formal and too old. Do not you agree? I despised all the titles and formalities everyone had to use in my father’s home.”

  Will tried to recall what he had heard about her father, whether he was the Royal Secretary of the Province or Secretary to the Royal Governor. He forgot which. “I read the book as a love story between Tom and his beloved Sophia,” he answered. “Their love endures through everything that happens to them,” Will said with passion. He ran on, not knowing where to stop, aware Colonel Glover, standing with both arms clasped behind his back, was staring at him. “Tom is falsely accused, involved in fights, almost caught by an impress gang; Sophia is misled and lied to by people she trusts, given false information to damage Tom in her eyes. She’s betrayed by her benefactress who has plotted a violent seduction against her,” he said blushing, briefly lowering his eyes and wondering if it was proper to say such things to the Colonel’s wife. “And yet, their love is true throughout.” He took a breath. “I’m afraid I missed the points you mentioned.” He almost said ma’m. He couldn’t yet bring himself to say Lucy, so he let the sentence hang.

  “Well,” Lucy said, laughing. “That is spoken by someone who clearly is in love himself.” Will blushed, not knowing what to reply. Colonel Knox rescued Will from his awkwardness.

  “Come, my dear. We should not delay dinner and you must not stand for too long periods of time.” He offered her his arm, she leaned her head against his shoulder and they led the way across the entrance hall into the dining room. The Colonel escorted his wife to the end of the table, held out the chair for her, and when she was comfortably seated, bent down and kissed her lightly on her hair, and took his place at the head of the table. Colonel Glover sat to Knox’s right, brother William next to him, Nat to Knox’s left and then Will, who to his panic found himself across from Billy Knox and next to Lucy, and unable to readily watch Nat’s example of table manners.

  “A toast,” Colonel Knox’s voice boomed out, after the wine had been poured. “To Lieutenant Nathaniel Holmes and his bride, Anna. May they be happy and long-lived, healthy and blessed with a large family.” He raised his glass, Nat acknowledged the toast by nodding to the company, thanked the Colonel and his wife for hosting the dinner, and took a sip. Will followed suit, tasting the warm pleasant bitterness of the red wine, careful not to spill a drop on his borrowed shirt or the white tablecloth. He followed the example of the others and placed the cloth napkin on his lap. Fearful of knocking something over, he sat on his hands.

  “Well, Will,” Lucy said. “If you read Tom Jones as a love story, which I do agree it is in a large part, you must be in love yourself. Tell me about her.” Will turned red and admitted he had written a young lady he was fond of in Albany but had yet to receive a reply.

  “You must keep writing to her,” she said encouragingly, waiting for the uniformed orderly to finish ladling the soup i
nto her bowl. “My Harry and I exchanged letters frequently when he was courting me.” It took Will a moment to realize her reference to Harry was to Colonel Knox.

  “My dearest, those were most difficult days for me,” Knox said, interrupting his conversation with Colonel Glover. “I was anxious for news of whether you had spoken to your father.”

  “Oh, Harry, there was no need to worry,” she said waving off her husband’s comments. “My father,” Lucy said vehemently, turning to Will and Nat, “flatly forbade me to marry ‘that tradesman’ or ‘bookseller’ as he sometimes called him. It was only my threat of elopement that caused him to relent.” 1

  Colonel Knox raised his glass toward his wife. “My dearest. It was your perseverance and determination that carried the day. And now I am the happiest man in Massachusetts, and your father calls me much worse than before, I am sure.”

  Will caught the look of distress in Lucy’s eyes as she returned her husband’s gaze. “Perhaps,” she said quietly, “the birth of a grandchild will soften his heart. I have not seen my mother, brother or sisters since Harry and I escaped from Boston.”

  “Brother William,” Knox said. “I charge you not to let my darling Lucy become melancholy. You too, Will. Keep up your end of the conversation.” He waved his hand in encouragement.

  Lucy smiled at both of them. “I cannot be downhearted when I am in the company of my dear Harry. And of course you two gentlemen,” she added graciously. “Now, Will,” she commanded, “tell us about your love. What is her name and how did you meet?” she asked, bringing a spoonful of soup to her lips.

  With some trepidation, Will found himself telling her about Elisabeth, the crossing of the Hudson, her gift of the scarf, his first letter to her and the loss of the precious piece of paper before he could draft a second one. To his surprise, by the time he had concluded the account, he had finished his fish chowder, without exhibiting crude table manners, overloading his spoon with chunks of potato, or even spilling a drop.

  The rest of the meal passed the same way. Will conversed with Lucy, Billy and occasionally Nat, while he dutifully devoured the slabs of roast beef, slices of chicken and turkey, and fish placed before him, always careful to use the same utensil Lucy did and to cut his food before placing it in his mouth. She had a small mouth with thin lips, and when she laughed, which was frequently, he noticed she had good teeth. He found himself following her lead instead of glancing at Nat to his right, justifying his looking at her as necessary to know what to do for which course. He was mindful to drink only small amounts of wine and larger quantities of water although he already felt his head was less clear than normal.

  “Good gracious, Will. My husband tells me you are in the Mariners’ barracks at General Washington’s headquarters. Do they not feed you there?” Lucy asked teasingly, as Will eagerly took another piece of venison from the serving platter. “You eat almost as much as my husband,” she said, which caused Nat to stifle a laugh and the Colonel’s brother to chuckle.

  “No one can do that my dear sister,” Billy said. “Besides, Will here is a growing boy whereas my brother is in his prime.”

  “He is indeed,” Lucy said fondly, gazing at Colonel Knox, as if there were no other people in the room. Will noticed that other than himself, the Colonel was the only person still eating. Will hurriedly cut the meat and wolfed it down, so as not to be the last. He glanced at the Colonel to be certain there was still food on his plate and saw Knox recoil from something Colonel Glover had whispered to him.

  “He has refused?” Colonel Knox said, incapable of speaking quietly.

  Glover nodded. “After I informed him one of my men has died at their hands.”

  “You refer to Caesar?” Nat asked, knowing the answer. Colonel Glover nodded. “You and I have the solemn task tomorrow of bringing his body home to Salem for burial. I am sorry the somber occasion impinges on the joy of your matrimony.”

  Nat put down his glass and looked at the two Colonels. “It is not fair to treat freemen differently because of their skin. Caesar Winship went to sea with us. He was one of the first among all of the fishermen to volunteer for our Regiment,” he said hotly. “He was a constant attender at our church, present at every Sabbath, an observant man. He was willing to die in battle with the British, not be beaten to death by illiterate backwoods militia.”

  “The General must have his reasons for not convening a court martial.” Knox said. “He is trying to bring together militias from the different colonies and meld them into a single army. His goal is to forge a force capable of defeating the British. That is his paramount concern. I, for one, must defer to his judgment.” He looked from the Colonel to Nat. “Even though I do not agree.”

  Colonel Glover put down his wine glass. “General Thomas, himself, has complained about these southern riflemen, characterizing them as exceedingly vicious and repugnant to all kinds of duty.” He paused, shook his head and said more softly, “I would have preferred General Washington had ordered a court martial be convened. Nevertheless, we all will defer to General Washington’s judgment. And he has done right by commending my Regiment and retaining the Mariners as his Headquarters Guard. But Henry,” he said, turning to address Colonel Knox, “if, as you say, we are going to be one army, fighting the British instead of amongst ourselves, what is to prevent this from happening another time?”

  Colonel Knox simply shrugged and shook his head in response, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

  “It is true the men in my company revere the General and cheered him after the riot,” Nat said. Will saw his jaw muscles tense as he controlled himself. “They respect him and will follow any orders they are given. I for one can submerge my heartfelt desire for revenge. I am not certain that, if the opportunity arose, one of the Mariners would not seize upon it.”

  “We must prevent such an incident from happening,” Colonel Glover said firmly. “Officers lead their men, both by example and by instruction. I will not let the honor of our Regiment be tarnished by an individual act of vengeful spite. Nor will you Lieutenant.” It was clear to Will that the Colonel intended to hold Nat responsible if any of his men sought revenge for Caesar’s death.

  “Gentlemen,” Lucy called out, smiling graciously. “Enough of this talk. I have a different charge to Lieutenant Holmes.” Nat turned toward her and managed a slight smile. “After your time in Salem together, you are to bring your wife Anna to wherever my Harry and I shall be abiding so I may become acquainted with her.”

  “With pleasure,” Nat said, inclining his head to Mrs. Knox and smiling broadly. “This is something I can most willingly comply with and, on her behalf, I thank you in advance for your most gracious invitation.”

  The conversation continued through dessert, two large apple pies, one topped with strips of cheese, the other with ground cinnamon. Another wine like drink was served. Lucy explained to Will it was a simply a ‘sherry.’ By the end of the meal, Lucy had promised to lend Will two novels she had read, one being The Vicar of Wakefield, and the other a title Will had forgotten.

  Will, more confident now that he had survived the dinner party without mishap, was surprised how much he had enjoyed the company. He had drunk sparingly of the wine and sherry but due to their effect, he no longer felt shy and reticent in the company of the two Colonels and Mrs. Knox.

  “Colonel, Knox, sir. If it is not too much to ask, one of the Mariners has pointed out that I am sorely deficient in geography and suggested I study maps. Perhaps I could borrow such a book from you?”

  “Ah ha,” Knox said, finishing his sherry and dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “That will have to await our army’s advance into Boston. There, if the British have not destroyed them, I know several gentlemen with fine libraries containing books of the geography of the known world.” He leaned back in the large wooden armchair that comfortably accommodated his large bulk, and saw Will’s look of disappointment.

  “You will not have to wait long, Will. I can assure you of that
. General Washington intends to move against the Redcoats by the first week of March. He has asked all regiments to assign every available driver, wagon and sled for the preparations. You will be part of that important effort. Come here tomorrow before eight to collect the books my Lucy has promised. Billy will give you instructions then.”

  He raised his glass. “Let us end the evening with a final toast to Lieutenant Holmes and his bride, to the success of General Washington and our army, and may we all dine together again, and soon, in our beloved Boston.”

  “Keep writing to your Elisabeth,” were Lucy’s encouraging words to Will as he and Nat stood in the entrance hall preparing to leave. The two Colonels and William had military matters to discuss. “May God bless you and your wife-to-be,” she said, smiling at Nat. “My Harry does not want me to stand here when the door is opened, so as to avoid the chill. I will say my goodbyes now.” Nat bowed from the waist. Will did the same, which brought his eyes level with Mrs. Knox’s protruding belly.

  On Friday, the first day of March, Will was northeast of the Charles River and Cambridge near some pond. He had been up since the pre-dawn darkness, and for the third time that morning, he was helping soldiers load his sled with saplings, eight to ten feet in length, of pine, spruce, maple, ash, hickory and birch, and the occasional ironwood, the butt ends loaded in first, the tops dragging on the frozen ground past the sled’s runners. Will preferred to be in the woods with the militia chopping down the young trees. That would have kept him warm. Instead, he had to stand by the sled in the freezing cold until it was fully loaded and drive his laden sled to the assembly point in the hills behind Roxbury. And then return again. The roads were crowded with wagons and sleds, some like his filled with saplings, others piled high with barrels or hay bales and, closer to Cambridge, still others with stones of all sizes. It was clear the Army was preparing for battle, but he had no idea what the saplings, barrels and stones were for. The hay was food for the horses, but it seemed to him there were too many bales for so few animals.