War

by Edward Cline

  “Still trying to salvage the epergne of empire?”

  Hugh shut his eyes for a moment at the slight. Then he realized it was not a slight. He replied, “If as notable and esteemed a gentleman as Benjamin Franklin believes in it, I can only second him.”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s not like you to defer to authority, Hugh, not even to one as esteemed as Mr. Franklin’s.”

  “I do not defer to his authority. I have been here longer than he to witness the events of the last fifteen years, and my appraisal is based on my own authority.”

  Jack said nothing more.

  After a moment, Etáin said, “We shall miss you, Hugh.”

  “And I shall miss both of you. I should return by early spring.” He smiled and picked up his hat. “Well, I will visit Mr. Proudlocks now. My plan is certain to displease him, as well,” he added lightly. “Is there anything you want from London?”

  Jack said, “Their recognition of our independence.”

  “We are not displeased with you or your purpose, Hugh,” Etáin said. “We are saddened that you should choose to leave at such a time.” When she saw the controlled hurt in her friend’s expression, she rushed to add, touching his arm, “We shall see you off at the pier, of course.”

  “Thank you.” Hugh turned and left the room.

  * * *

  Two days later, he boarded the Anacreon, and stood at the shrouds, waving at the crowd of friends on the pier as the merchantman gained the river current. Jack and Etáin, John Proudlocks, Beecroft and Spears, William Settle — who had already proven his ability to look after Meum Hall during his past absences — even his housekeeper and many of his tenants, were there to bid him farewell.

  Other planters were there, too: among them Reece Vishonn, and Jock Fraser, whom he had encountered in Safford’s Arms the day before, when he went there to ask for any last mail that might have been left. Jock Fraser had treated him to a pint of ale, and boisterously sung him a song that underscored his best wishes for a good voyage and safe return, “Will Ye No’ Come Back Again.” When Hugh, laughing, asked him what he meant, Fraser slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a Scots marchin’ song, laddie! I will tell you that I’d like to hoot it to that devil in the Palace when he leaves for the frontier. I’d mean something else by it, though,” he had added with a wink.

  The last words Hugh heard, before the growing distance between the Anacreon and the pier reduced the farewells and Godspeeds to mere sounds, were Jack’s, who waved his hat up at him, shouting, “Come back to Hyperborea!”

  Hugh waved his hat in answer, and shouted, “Hyperborea forever!”

  A while later, as the vessel rounded a bend in the York, he watched Caxton vanish and blend into the summer haze.

  Chapter 10: The Interview

  Jared Hunt, in the meantime, came away from his interview with Governor Dunmore less satisfied than he might have been, but content with the results nonetheless. Upon his arrival in Williamsburg, he had been made to wait for it for two consecutive days in the grand foyer of the Palace. His Excellency, explained the officious Captain Foy, the Governor’s secretary, was busy with the onerous gubernatorial business of the colony, and in addition was making preparations to march to the frontier to put down an Indian uprising.

  Contrary to his expectations, the documents he had brought with him did not expedite an audience with the Governor. He was not sure if they served him well or ill. These were his letter of introduction, signed by the Earl of Danvers, and his extraordinary commission, signed by the Earl of Rochford, Secretary of State for the Southern Department, and the Earl of Dartmouth, Secretary of State for the Colonies, under the signature of the president of the American Board of Customs Commissioners. This second document gave him discretionary authority over any and all Customs officers in the colonies.

  Hunt speculated that the Governor was overwhelmed by all the power represented in the signatures, and postponed a meeting with the bearer of those instruments in a peevish demonstration of his own importance.

  When at last Hunt was escorted to the Governor’s office, His Excellency remarked, “What a broadside of recommendations, sir! You must be a man of particular talents.” He handed the papers back over his desk to his visitor.

  Hunt smiled, rose from his chair, took the papers and put them back inside his coat, then reseated himself. He was sensitive to the sneer beneath the compliment and its insinuation that his talents, while practical, worthy of emulation and perhaps even to be envied for, were hardly laudable in the normal sense. But he was not offended. His talents were his career. He replied with brazen lightness, “I am fortunate that my modest abilities are recognized and commended to broader service, your lordship. I have been in the personal service of his lordship the Earl of Danvers for many years now.”

  “Danvers? Don’t know him,” remarked the Governor with perfunctory haste, shaking his head.

  “Of Dorset, your lordship,” said Hunt, certain that His Excellency had lied. “The Earl has been a champion of the policy of exacting deference from the colonies for as long as I have known him. And he was one of those in Lords who some years ago campaigned to have Mr. Pitt elevated to reduce his obstructing influence in the Commons. The consequences of that elevation are known to all but Lord Chatham himself, whose influence in Lords is predictably negligible, even when he manages to attend.”

  “Yes, Lord Chatham,” said Dunmore, groaning with stressed boredom. He had indeed made the acquaintance of the Earl of Danvers, but did not wish to concede his visitor’s obvious familiarity with political machinations, of which that specific one he himself had full knowledge. “Yes. Fie on the foolish man. Now, what is your purpose here, Mr. Hunt?” He leaned back in his chair, as though prepared to listen to his visitor’s plea and to weigh whether or not it was worth considering.

  Hunt paused to cross his legs and to choose his words carefully. “I am here on a special mission, your lordship, to foil the designs of some gentlemen to deny His Majesty and Parliament rightful sovereignty over these colonies, and over Virginia, especially. You have noted that my Customs commission grants me latitude in that purpose. These gentlemen have been conspiring to stir up disaffection with the Crown.”

  Dunmore scoffed. “I daresay half the burgesses here are guilty of stirring up disaffection! Even some of my Councilmen, not one of whom, by the bye, moved himself to castigate the villains behind that offensive day of fasting and prayer. But, pray, which gentlemen?”

  “My profuse apologies, your lordship, but I am not at liberty to divulge their identities. My instructions in that respect are strict. Were I to be asked that question by His Majesty, I could not make an exception even for him. However, I can safely tell you that they are Virginians — no more are they Englishmen! — and that when I have foiled them, you shall know it.”

  Hunt had no instructions of the kind. He had taken stock of His Excellency and suspected that if the Governor knew the name of Hugh Kenrick, he might be tempted to act himself, and have the man either hanged, jailed or otherwise ruined, just to exercise his power. The Earl, Hunt knew too well, might be half pleased with such an episode, but at the same time feel cheated. His employer was obsessed with personally and directly punishing his nephew Hugh Kenrick and thereby hurting his own brother, the Baron of Danvers, for offenses that he, Jared Hunt, did not permit himself to think merited such vindicatory purposes. Hunt knew that his future security rested on catering to that obsession. It was none of his business what the Earl did to assuage his injuries.

  He noted without surprise that His Excellency did not like his delicately put answer. The man’s face, rigid in resentment, grew a shade red in anger.

  But Dunmore decided that tact was the better part of discretion. He sniffed in feigned indifference to the answer, and asked, somewhat imperiously, “Well, sir, what is it you want from me?”

  “Nothing, your lordship. It is a courtesy call I make, merely to inform you that Virginia is on the Crown’s mind, and that i
t is taking appropriate action to retain this His Majesty’s most prosperous dominion.”

  The Governor hummed in tired approval of the Crown’s concern. “Yes. Well, all sorts of strangers are calling on me these days. Not two weeks ago an army officer on his own secret mission called on me to ask for militia figures.”

  Hunt frowned. Army officers were less numerous in this colony than Customs officials. He could not recall encountering a single one since his arrival in Virginia, except at Morland Hall that shameful day. He asked, “Your lordship, was it a captain in gentleman’s garb?”

  “Yes, sir. It was.”

  “Was it Captain Roger Tallmadge, perhaps, of the Grenadier Guards?”

  Dunmore looked interested now, and sat forward. “Why, yes, I believe that was his name. I don’t recollect his regiment, but his papers were in order. Had him to supper, and invited him to my ladyship’s ball at the Capitol. An amiable chap, but too stealthy to my tastes.”

  Hunt smiled. Here was an opportunity to wreak his own vengeance. He braced himself and related to the Governor the incident at Morland Hall.

  When he was finished, Dunmore was livid. “Well, that is a chargeable offense!” he bellowed. “Interfering with Crown officers in the performance of their duty! And siding with a rebel! What disgraceful behavior!” The Governor paused. “Now that I think of it, it might explain some of his comments to me in this very office, which at the time I placed no importance on. Something must be done about him. What was it you were searching for, sir?”

  “Arms, your lordship. The office in Hampton had received information that some suspicious activities were to be observed at that plantation.”

  “Did you return to it?”

  “No, your lordship. Doubtless the contraband, if it exists, would have been moved soon after my visit and secreted elsewhere. And one of the gentlemen it is my task to compromise and bring to justice was involved in that treasonous behavior, as well. Apparently, he is a friend of Captain Tallmadge’s. He is very much esteemed in that county, and to move against him now would be tantamount to inviting open rebellion by many of its inhabitants. I would not act so recklessly, and would rather wait until conditions are in my own favor.”

  The Governor hummed in thought. “Which vessel brought you and the marines up?”

  “The Fowey, your lordship, captained by Mr. Montague.”

  “I see.” Dunmore pounded a fist once on some paperwork in front of him. “Well, Mr. Hunt, I shall write General Gage in Boston about this incident so that he may prepare a surprise for Captain Tallmadge! A court martial and a hanging will end that chap’s duplicity!”

  “Thank you, your lordship. I have also written General Gage about the affair.”

  After some further chitchat about the weather, the charms of Williamsburg, and how His Excellency planned to deal with Cornstalk, the Shawnee chief behind the frontier uprising, Jared Hunt left the Governor’s office in a good mood. The next day he rode out on a journey to Richmond, and from there to Petersburg, to note the condition and temper of the people in those towns, and returned to Williamsburg nearly two weeks later. After another night there, he ventured back to Caxton before beginning the ride back to Hampton.

  Cautiously he reconnoitered Meum Hall, which he had seen only once from the Fowey the day of the incident at Morland. He did not want to encounter any of the parties who had participated in that affair. Following the directions of a passing Indian curiously attired in colonial dress and who rode a horse on a fine saddle, he drew up his mount at Hove Stream, where some slaves were busy pouring buckets of water from the stream into some contraption that seemed linked to a length of bamboo. The gray-green arm of bamboo stretched into a vast field of tobacco and corn, until it disappeared halfway through them, its most visible end pointing to a cluster of houses the size of pebbles in the distance.

  The slaves paused to study him. He asked them if the large house was Meum Hall.

  “Yassuh,” replied the slave who held a rag flag on a stick. “That’s Mista Kenrick’s place.”

  “Is he about? I’m an old friend, and may pay him a visit.”

  “He gone sometime, Mista, on a boat. For England. Won’t be back ’til spring.”

  Hunt managed to repress his disappointment. “Well, I’ll call on him then.” But anger and curiosity got the best of him. “Why did he go to England?” he abruptly demanded, as though his prey had no justifiable right to move beyond his power.

  The slave with the flag shrugged. “Don’t know, Mista. Not our business. Heard he might talk in the big burgess house there, and he went after Missus Reverdy, too, to bring her back. That’s what we hear.”

  Hunt nodded thanks, reined his mount around, and began the ride back to Williamsburg. Damn! he thought. The whelp has sailed for England! That meant either pursuing him in another vessel, or writing the Earl a letter that contained the unpleasant news. Now he would need to amend his own plans and postpone a triumphant return to London. Either alternative would upset the Earl, for Hunt knew that his employer and patron wished Hugh Kenrick to meet his end or his disgrace beyond the help of his caring and anxious father.

  Hunt resigned himself to writing a report to the Earl. And what would he do with himself until Hugh Kenrick returned, other than accompany Customsmen on their raids? It had become so dull an occupation! How could he justify his time to his patron, and explain his inactivity? Something tickled his memory, and he recalled the oddly attired Indian who had given him directions to Meum Hall. That was it! He could claim that His Excellency, Governor Dunmore, had pressed him into service on the frontier campaign! How could he refuse such a request? The Governor planned to end the uprising by the end of December. That ought to kill so much time! And then spring would be upon him in no time! Hunt even convinced himself that it might even be an interesting adventure!

  Jared Hunt felt much less angry, now that he had hit upon a plan. He would again seek an interview with the Governor to volunteer his services on that campaign, in whatever capacity His Excellency wished to accept them.

  The extraordinarily commissioned Customsman urged his mount into a trot on the road back to Williamsburg.

  John Proudlocks, watching from the woods that bordered the road, wondered when and where he had seen the stranger before, and what possible business he could have at Meum Hall.

  Chapter 11: The Chamade

  On July 8, two days before he departed on a tour of some of the Piedmont counties, and before he left again in September to campaign against the Indians, Governor Dunmore prorogued the General Assembly until November. His action was part punishment of the burgesses for scheduling the August convention; and part convenience to the Governor, for once the convention was concluded, the burgesses would have no reason to assemble again in Williamsburg during the months he expected to be absent. He would not need to worry about further rebellious mischief they might concoct behind his back. The Governor liked to keep a close ear to the political keyhole and a hand firmly on the latch of assembly.

  Of course, he believed that everyone understood that he would brave the rigors and dangers of a campaign as his duty to protect the western-most reaches of His Majesty’s dominion of Virginia. He did not entertain the possibility that perhaps many Virginians suspected that the Cornstalk uprising was precipitated by his seizure earlier in the year of western Pennsylvania. The Shawnee chief Cornstalk, Pontiac’s successor, knew that the British army was forbidden to protect settlers who ventured west of the mountains. What else could he do, but take steps by calling out the militia — not the army — to protect those settlers and to restore order?

  Dunmore appointed a Crown crony, John Connolly, a physician of dubious talent, in Pittsburg to govern the newly acquired land. He even proposed to rename Fort Pitt after himself. But Connolly barely had enough time to set up shop at Fort Pitt when he was arrested by Pennsylvania authorities. In the meantime, war had broken out between the settlers and the Indians in the Ohio territory.

  And,
the Governor may or may not have had at the time of his departure for the west a copy of the Quebec Act, passed in Parliament on June 22, which made Canadian all land west of the Ohio River and on the east bank of the Mississippi clear to the Gulf of Mexico, and Roman Catholicism that province’s official religion. The Act sanctioned the arbitrary annexation of land claimed by Virginia and other colonies but put in abeyance by the Proclamation of 1763.

  Dunmore had personal plans for the Virginia lands. If he had knowledge of the Act, it did not seem to trouble him. After all, he was the Crown, His Majesty’s viceroy, and the Crown could redraw boundaries at will and at the king’s pleasure. And he must have noted with worried envy that the Crown was already granting enormous parcels of land to favored, well-connected British and colonial speculators. Only the year before the Board of Trade had bestowed upon the Grand Ohio Company 20 million acres in exchange for some £10,000, the region to become another proprietary colony with the curious name of Vandalia.

  “Dunmore’s War” — a generous designation for a campaign that saw but one battle, a near disaster at which the Governor was not even present, but for which he was responsible — was a microcosm of the French and Indian War in terms of Crown motives and ends. This time the colonials, especially the Virginians, while grateful for their Governor’s concern, were more perceptive and alert to those motives and ends. As in the past war, the campaign’s ostensible purpose was to remove or at least neutralize a mortal threat to better ensure British sovereignty. But because of the political turmoil of the past ten years, the colonials did not automatically assume that the war was waged and won for the sake of their security and for British liberty.

  Tactless, bellicose, and crudely sly, almost from the beginning of his tenure Dunmore seemed to them a caricature of the Crown’s true motives. He was insensitive to that insinuative mockery; he did not care a fig for what his subjects thought of him. He was a Stuart, and he would govern. Most Virginians had heard that the Governor had advocated, in a letter to Lord Dartmouth, Secretary of State for the Colonies, the employment of not only slaves, but Indians, as well, to terrify recalcitrant colonials into deference and obedience, should matters get out of hand. A few of them privately entertained the idea that the Governor’s “war” had a dual purpose: to cause a crisis requiring Crown intervention to resolve the dispute between Virginia and Pennsylvania over western Pennsylvania, to better to enforce the Proclamation of 1763, and to resolve it in the land-hungry Governor’s favor; and to test the mettle of the Virginia militia, and to divert it from any possible action against himself.