Little Spy of Vincennes (Patriot Kids of the American Revolution Book 3)

by Geoff Baggett

  “Oh, Papa!” wailed Pierre. “We won’t get in the way. I promise.”

  His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “The captain would never allow it. Do as I say, Pierre. You two boys need to go back home right now. Gaspard, your father and I will be along in just a little while.” He gave the boys a gentle nudge toward the front gate of the fort. “Now, get going!”

  “Yes, sir,” pledged Pierre.

  But he and Gaspard did not leave the fort. They pretended to walk toward the gate until both of their fathers disappeared inside Captain Bousseron’s office. The moment the door closed behind them little Pierre made his move.

  “Come on, Gaspard! We have to find out what is happening!”

  “But your papa said that we must go home,” Gaspard protested.

  Pierre rolled his eyes. “Just come with me!”

  He grabbed Gaspard by the arm and dragged him toward the western wall of the fort. They ran beside the log walls and quickly worked their way around behind the commander’s office. Once they were close to the headquarters building they hid beneath a wagon that was parked against the outer wall of the fort.

  “What are we doing, Pierre?” hissed Gaspard, obviously frightened.

  “We’re going to listen to their parley,” declared Pierre, smiling from ear to ear.

  “How will we listen? And won’t we get in trouble?”

  Pierre pointed at the back wall of the captain’s headquarters. “Look right there, beneath the window. There is a wide gap between two of the logs. We can hear everything through that hole in the wall.”

  “How do you know about that?” asked Gaspard, looking confused.

  “Because I have listened through it before.” Pierre grinned mischievously. “I spy on things around here all of the time, especially since the British left.”

  “Why, Pierre?”

  “Because it’s fun, Gaspard! Besides, it’s only the militia. We don’t have to be afraid of the French soldiers … not like we feared the British. These men are our neighbors and friends.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” admitted Gaspard. He grinned. “It does sound like an adventure. So, what do we do now?”

  “Just follow me!”

  Pierre scurried toward the wall and leaned in close to the hole between the logs. Gaspard followed him. Pierre lifted his finger to his lips, urging Gaspard to remain silent. Then both boys placed their ears to the wide crack in the walls. They heard the distinctive voice of Captain Bousseron as he conducted the meeting inside his office. They also heard whispers and mumbling among the other officers and men.

  Bousseron almost shouted, “And you are certain of this information, Father Gibault? You have verified the sources?”

  “Yes, Francois. As I have already told you, Colonel Clark presented documents and newspapers from the east to verify his claims. The Kingdom of France declared war against Great Britain on March 17 of this year. Our mother country is, most definitely, at war with England.”

  Pierre slapped Gaspard on the arm and whispered, “France has entered the war!”

  “What war?”

  “The American Revolution!”

  “What does that mean to us?” hissed Gaspard.

  “I don’t know yet. Just keep listening …”

  Captain Bousseron asked another question. “Have the Americans treated you well?”

  Father Gibault responded, “Oh, quite well, Francois. At first, we assumed that we would have our lands and property taken from us and that the men would all be carried off to a military prison. But Colonel Clark has been most kind and generous. He has allowed us to choose our own side in their revolutionary conflict. He freely offered an oath of allegiance to Virginia and the United States. Most of our citizens have already pledged their oath.”

  “And you wish for us to take this oath?” asked the captain.

  Father Gibault responded, “That is why we have come today. Rather than appearing with a large army, Colonel Clark thought it best to send one of his officers and a group of local leaders from Kaskaskia to talk to the leaders and citizens of Vincennes.”

  There was a brief silence, then Captain Bousseron asked, “And if we take this oath to Virginia, what then? What will become of our village? What will happen to the fort and our own militia?”

  The boys then heard the strange voice of the American officer. “Your militia will remain as they are and you will continue as their commander, Captain. Colonel Clark will assign an officer of the rank of captain or higher to assume command of the fort, itself. But you will remain as the head of the local

  militia. Indeed, we will rely upon your men for the proper defense of this fort and village.”

  “Are you saying that if we swear your oath we will become soldiers for the American cause?” Captain Bousseron asked bluntly.

  The American responded, “Yes, sir. That is exactly what I am saying. If your men swear their allegiance to Virginia and the Congress of the United States, your people will become citizens of the United States of America. I will, this very day, record your enlistments in our army and place your names on the muster roll and payroll.”

  There was a time of awkward silence. The boys heard a boot scuff the floor. They heard someone cough. They could even hear a lot of heavy, excited breathing, but no one was talking.

  Finally, Father Gibault spoke again. “Surely you see the wisdom in pursuing this wise path, Francois. These Long Knives from Virginia are very powerful. Their war against England is gaining strength. France has chosen the side of the United States and is now at war with England!”

  Father Gibault paused to allow his words to sink in. “These mighty armies are about to clash right here on our very own soil, among our fields and homes. The Virginians have been good to our people and made clear their desire for our freedom and prosperity. They treat us as equals, not as subjects. I urge you to follow the lead of the other villages and take their oath.”

  There was another long, silent pause. Gaspard and Pierre were breathless as they strained to hear the outcome of the meeting.

  Once again, Father Gibault broke the uncomfortable silence. “Francois … Captain Bousseron. What are you thinking? What do you intend to do?”

  The captain responded, “Gentlemen, this is not a decision that I can make for an entire village. I know what I plan to do. But each man and each family must make their own decision. I will not force a single citizen of Vincennes to conform to my politics, or to yours, Father.” He paused. “We must allow the people to decide for themselves.”

  The captain then spoke with authority to his other officers. “Men, sound the alarm and notify the citizens that there will be a town meeting in one hour. All men age sixteen and older are expected to be present. This meeting will take place at the church, if that is agreeable with you, Father Gibault.”

  The priest responded, “Most agreeable, Francois, and an excellent idea.”

  “Very well then. Off you go, men. Inform the people. In one hour’s time we will meet and choose sides in this war of rebellion against England.”

  There were loud noises from inside the office as chairs began to move and men rose to their feet. They heard the door open on the far side of the room and the men chatting excitedly as they departed the office and walked into the courtyard of the fort. The room on the other side of the log wall quickly fell silent.

  Gaspard stared wide-eyed at Pierre. “What does that all mean? What were they talking about, Pierre?”

  “It means that we might be going to war against England!”

  Gaspard’s eyes opened even wider.

  Suddenly a stern voice yelled from the direction of the water well in the nearby corner of the fort. The man exclaimed, “Hey! What are you kids doing over there?” A militia soldier began to walk quickly in their direction.

  Pierre slapped Gaspard on the leg. “Let’s get out of here!”

  The boys jumped to their feet and took off running in the opposite direction.

  chapter
four

  a spy in the church

  Pierre was frustrated. He simply could not get his friends to agree to a plan to sneak into the church and spy on the upcoming meeting of the men of the village. The five boys … Pierre, Gaspard, Jean-Luc, Adrien, and Quentin … were gathered for a “secret” meeting of their aspiring spy network at Pierre Grimard’s grain mill. Little Pierre knew that his father’s place of business was closed for the day because of the militia muster. It was well away from the fort and the church. That made it the perfect place for a meeting of the band of young spies.

  The boys sat cross-legged in a dark corner of the stone building. No one seemed to be paying much attention to Pierre’s arguments and pleading.

  “We have to get inside that church!” hissed Pierre. “We just have to!”

  “But how?” asked Adrien. “That tiny building will be packed with people. Didn’t you say that every man over age sixteen will be there?”

  Pierre nodded sadly.

  “Then surely there will be no room!” declared Quentin. “And we certainly cannot dig a tunnel under the floor. It could cave in and cause the whole church to collapse.” He giggled teasingly and punched Gaspard in the shoulder.

  “Ha, ha, ha. Very funny,” retorted Gaspard, obviously not amused.

  Jean-Luc ignored their banter. “There are definitely not enough seats. Men will be sitting in the floor and standing along the walls. Some may even have to stand outside and listen through the windows.”

  Gaspard exclaimed, “I told you, Pierre! We won’t be able to go in there during their big parley. Even if there was some room, they likely wouldn’t allow us inside the church, anyway. This is grown-up stuff, and it sounds really serious. They’re talking about taking oaths and making war.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” admitted Pierre. “But I so wanted to hear what the men had to say. I wanted us to be the first ones in town to hear their decision! That’s what real spies do, fellows. They discover secrets.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” responded Adrien. “I’m sure that the word will get out pretty quickly. You know how the news travels fast in this little village.” He grinned. “The moment that the meeting is over all Captain Bousseron has to do is go and tell Mrs. Descoteaux what occurred. That old bat will tell everyone within fifty miles before supper time!”

  The boys rolled with laughter. They knew all too well how the nosy old woman liked to share juicy news and gossip, especially when she was sworn to secrecy!

  “The only problem with that strategy is that she will add to the story and make some stuff up,” declared Quentin. “By the time the news gets to the outskirts of Vincennes people will think we are at war with the Spaniards in St. Louis!”

  Again, the boys laughed uproariously. It was, indeed, true. Mrs. Descoteaux, the well-known town gossip, was prone to exaggeration and intentionally sharing false and misleading information.

  “It is settled, then,” declared Quentin. “We go home and wait for our fathers to tell us the news.”

  The boys stared at one another in dejected silence.

  Pierre sighed in disappointment. “I suppose.”

  “Good.” Jean-Luc stood quickly and stretched. “It is almost time for my afternoon snack and nap.” He grinned and cut his eyes at the other boys. “Mrs. Duvalier has two pies cooling in her window. One of

  them is cherry. I saw the red juice that bubbled through the crust and dried on top. How about we go on a different spy mission and see if we can capture a pie and then sneak off to the pond?”

  “Yes! And we can hide the evidence in our bellies!” proclaimed Gaspard.

  “I’m in!” declared Quentin.

  “I’m in,” echoed Adrien.

  The four boys stared at Pierre and waited for his answer.

  Pierre shook his head. “I can’t, guys. I really need to get home and check on Mama and my brothers. I’m sure that she has some chores for me.”

  “Well, I would say that we will save you a piece of pie …” began Jean-Luc.

  Quentin finished his sentence, “… but we can’t leave any evidence lying around.”

  “Thanks, anyway, guys. You go have some fun. I will be back here at the mill after supper, just before sunset. Come back if you can and we will make plans for tomorrow. Agreed?”

  “Agreed!” responded the four boys.

  All five of the lads darted out of the open door of the mill. The four pie-stealers scurried along toward Mrs. Duvalier’s house on the south side of the village. Pierre went in the other direction, toward his house. But he was not going to his house. He had another plan and another destination in mind.

  Instead, Pierre ran alone toward the little church next to Fort Sackville.

  ~

  Pierre gasped for a breath of fresh air. It was so unbelievably hot. He lay hidden in the only secret place that he could think of within the church. He sat on the uncomfortable stool inside the priest’s tiny confessional chamber. Once inside he had pulled the wool curtain closed across the door. There was no ventilation inside the small wooden booth. Little Pierre was drowning in sweat. He thought he might suffocate. He felt as though he might pass out. He fanned his face with his hand, but it didn’t seem to help at all.

  It was bad enough that it was the month of July and the middle of the afternoon, which was always the hottest part of the day. When you combined the stifling, humid heat of summer with a room full of warm, sweaty, stinky humans conditions became almost unbearable.

  Pierre wasn’t alone in his suffering. The air throughout the tiny church was stifling, and it seemed that the tempers of some of the men of Vincennes were beginning to burn along with the oppressive summer heat. Their discussion was animated and sometimes angry. The men of the village seemed to be indecisive and frustrated. Some men stomped their feet. They wanted to swear the oath. Others pleaded for wisdom and moderation, and discouraged

  anyone from signing the oath. Still more shouted with fervor and emotion.

  Finally, the shrill voice of Father Gibault caused the noisy room to become silent and reverent. “Friends! Stop! We have been at this for an hour or more, and we are beginning to endure the same questions already asked and answered. No more pointless talking! The time has come for your decision!”

  Pierre grinned. He liked Father Gibault. The man had spunk. The gathering seemed to grow calmer after the Reverend Father spoke.

  The priest continued, “Men of Vincennes, I submit to you that there is no need to resist this army from Virginia. I urge you, as souls under my charge, to follow both my counsel and my example and swear this oath. I implore you to unite yourselves with the United States of America and the causes of freedom and liberty for which the people of this brand-new nation are now fighting. If you are willing, I am prepared to administer the oath given me by Colonel Clark. Right here. Right now.”

  There was more groaning, mumbling, and chatter. Clearly, the men did not know what to do. Even from deep inside his hiding spot in the priest’s confession chamber, Pierre could hear the fear in the voices of the men. Suddenly, the lad’s heart jumped into his throat when he heard his father’s voice rise above the other voices in the crowd.

  “Father Gibault, if I may … I would like to ask one final question before I am prepared to render my own decision.”

  “Yes, Pierre. What is your question?” The chubby priest sounded frustrated.

  “I need to know the intent of Captain Bousseron. What is he planning to do?”

  “That is an excellent question, Pierre,” affirmed Father Gibault.

  There was a pause, and then little Pierre heard the priest declare, “Francois, one of your men has an important question for you.”

  Then little Pierre heard his father speak again. “Francois, what would you have us do, old friend? What are you planning to do?”

  Again, there was a long, dramatic pause. Little Pierre strained to hear the captain’s response. He jumped in surprise when the captain’s voice boomed from a
spot very near the confessional. The man was, apparently, sitting right beside the booth where Pierre had hidden!

  The captain declared, “Pierre, the decision is surprisingly simple for me. The allegiance of my heart is to Vincennes. The allegiance of my blood is to France. I have absolutely no love for the British. I have no allegiance, at all, to King George or Great Britain. I serve them now only because of a treaty signed many years ago and thousands of miles away from here by men I do not know. But here, today, I get to make my own choice.”

  He continued, “I believe, based upon their actions here in Illinois, that the intent of the Americans is liberty and freedom from tyranny. Therefore, I plan to join with their cause. I will swear their oath and join their army.”

  A rumble of excitement erupted throughout the room. Little Pierre smiled silently and proudly. He felt a great admiration for Mr. Bousseron. But his pride truly swelled when he heard his father’s voice once again.

  “Captain, if you will swear the oath and join the Americans today, then so will I!”

  Another voice thundered, “As will I!”

  That was the voice of Francois Turpin, Gaspard’s father! Little Pierre could barely control his excitement. Immediately, one after another and in rapid succession, every man of Vincennes stood and proclaimed his intent to join the Americans. Boots and moccasins scooted loudly across the rough boards of the floor. It sounded like one of the pew benches in the church actually turned over. The moment was electrifying. The room seemed filled with passion, excitement, and boldness. The men cheered and clapped.

  The voice of Father Gibault rose over the loud celebration and called out, “Lieutenant Asher, you

  have heard the declarations of the men of Vincennes. Do I have your permission to administer the oath?”

  The unusual voice of the American officer responded, “You do indeed, Reverend Father! And once sworn, I ask that each man come forward and add his name to my list. It will be the muster roll and pay sheet that I will forward to Colonel Clark.”