War

by Edward Cline

  After a while, Hugh asked, “Did he ask you to see me?”

  “No,” answered Proudlocks. “He merely related the substance of your last meeting.”

  “They want to try him for treason, Mr. Proudlocks. That means a hanging.”

  Proudlocks laughed in dismissal of the idea. “He will not be available long enough for them to read him the charge.”

  “Does it not trouble you to see him chained to a wall, as though he were a common horse thief?”

  Proudlocks shrugged. “It troubled me, at first, when I saw him like that, but not overly so.” He smiled again. His smile was disarming. Hugh could never resist it. “He will be free again.”

  He did not elaborate. He seemed to reach a decision about Hugh, and rose. “Well, I must go to visit a friend.” He slapped Hugh on a shoulder once. “Yes, Mr. Kenrick. Your gorget saved his life. You would do well to think of its inscription. It will save yours, too.” And without further word he walked away to mount his horse. Then he rode back up the rolling road of Meum Hall and disappeared behind the trees.

  Hugh turned around and stared into the distance. He asked himself: Did the pain and rage come from the loss of a friend, or because a friend had caused that loss?

  And Proudlocks was right. In the end, which would be the greater loss? He knew he was not meant to shipwreck himself on the soul of Jack Frake.

  He remembered the inscription on the gorget: Sapere aude. Have the courage to use your own reason. “Have the will to think,” he mused, would be a better construction. Hugh Kenrick smiled. His tutors would have given him an argument about that translation, had he proposed it to one of them. He was remembering a day long ago and the words he had spoken then to Reverdy: A mind can accrue honor, too, and carry its own colors, and be proud of its traditions and history…I am an ensign in our country’s most important standing army — for how secure can a country be without its thinkers? I am a thinker, and this is a new country.

  Hugh Kenrick sobbed, then cried — in relief, because he had come so close to betraying that idea, but had not betrayed it, because he knew he could not; in joy, because he had betrayed neither himself, nor his past, nor all the wonderful things in it; in pride, because he was still the owner of his life and of all its glory.

  * * *

  Jared Hunt was suddenly and quite astonished with the scope of his power to plan and command, once he was given leave to act. He did not think he could return to his old role of being his patron the Earl of Danvers’s secretary and factotum. Here before him, trying with only some success to repress their fear and dislike of him, were several men who were wealthier and formerly more powerful than he, sitting in guilty deference to his words and wishes.

  “I shall seize Morland Hall in lieu of Mr. Frake’s armed rebellion and treason,” he announced to them. “In addition, there is the likelihood that he profited from the false documents produced by the Sparrowhawk’s captain. According to Mr. Geary, the former captain of that vessel was a John Ramshaw, now retired. I shall not pursue him, for that is not my object.” He stopped to grin. “My object lesson is to impart, in no uncertain terms, to all who may be tempted to emulate him, or sympathize with him, that such behavior as Mr. Frake’s will earn severe and final punishment for deceiving and defrauding the Crown and raising one’s hand against it. I am not for deferring to judges and writs and such in the administration of justice in such matters, when the crime is so obvious.”

  Around a table inn a private room of the Swan Tavern in Yorktown, sat Jared Hunt, Edgar Cullis, Reverend Albert Acland, Reece Vishonn, Carver Gramatan, and Sheriff Cabal Tippet. It was two days after Jack Frake’s arrest and incarceration. An exchange of notes by courier between Hunt in Hampton and Cullis in Caxton had caused the parties to agree to meet in the establishment, at Hunt’s tactfully strenuous suggestion. He wished to apprise the committee of safety of his appreciation and plans.

  “I tell you this so that you will not be troubled when the Customs sails up the York and our men appear in your town. When do you think you can dispose of Mr. Frake?”

  “We are scheduling a special trial to take place in two days, Mr. Hunt,” said Edgar Cullis.

  Reece Vishonn volunteered, “He raised a militia company in defiance of my authority, Mr. Hunt. I am colonel of this county’s lawful militia. Mr. Frake’s independent company is no better than a vigilance band, organized around another illegal assembly, the Sons of Liberty. They absconded with county militia arms, powder, and equipment.”

  “Much of it was expended on that band’s expedition to Boston,” remarked Carver Gramatan.

  Sheriff Tippet was tempted to interject, “And they fought with all those other rebel bands in Charlestown, a month ago.” But he said nothing. Until Crown authority was restored in Williamsburg, he owed his position to Reece Vishonn and the authority of the county court.

  “The hubris of him!” exclaimed Hunt. “He is deserving of the severest penalty! I shall see to it that his estate reimburses your county for the damages and costs. Excellent, gentlemen,” said Hunt.

  Reverend Acland spoke up. “Sir, when you seize Morland Hall, there is an important matter of my compensation.”

  Hunt nearly laughed at the idea. “Compensation? For what, dear sir?”

  “You see, Mr. Hunt, for some time, years, in fact, Mr. Frake has been lax in paying our parish tithes. Neither the vestry nor the county court pressed him on the matter.” Acland threw a reproving glance at Reece Vishonn, who was both a vestryman and a magistrate, and had recommended that Morland Hall not be dunned for the taxes. Vishonn glanced away and said nothing. “That negligence apparently was on the advice of another magistrate, the late Thomas Reisdale. Then there is the matter of Mr. Kenrick and Meum Hall. Lord Kenrick is guilty of his own passel of offences. Through some infernal legalistic trick he freed his slaves, removing them from our right to lay tithes on them. He was explicitly exempted from tithes, also by the vestry and court, and also on the advice of Mr. Reisdale.”

  Hunt frowned. “How could he free his slaves, Reverend? The law in this colony is quite clear that he cannot.”

  “He accomplished it through some ruse with Quakers and the Earl of Danvers. It was the Earl of Danvers who nominally owned them, and then freed them, or sold them to a Quaker, who freed them. Perhaps it was the other way round. The event caused a sensation here, but was never investigated.” Acland paused. “Mr. Kenrick is a nephew of the Earl, so I understand. He is a baron.”

  For the first time in a long while, Hunt was speechless. He sat and stared at the minister for a moment, then glanced around the table to the others in silent question. All the men nodded in confirmation of the truth of the minister’s statement. Hunt remarked, “A baron, you say? Well, that is not the same thing as an earl.” He grunted once in amazement, and looked at Cullis. “Well, sir, there is a bit of twaddle my informants neglected to pass on to me.”

  For a moment, Jared Hunt forgot his company. What news this was! he thought. He would write the Earl about it! Imagine what a frothy delirium it would cause in the old bastard! Hunt wondered if the Earl’s brother, Garnet Kenrick, had had a hand in the ruse. Doubtless, he had. He wished he could witness the bout between the brothers over that matter! What entertainment that would be!

  Cullis replied, “There is that matter of Reverend Acland’s, sir, in addition to all the treasonous statements Mr. Kenrick has made in the House about the Crown, and His Majesty.” He paused. “If His Excellency the Governor could pronounce Patrick Henry an outlaw, I fail to see why Mr. Kenrick cannot likewise be so called. He has contributed mightily to the disaffection so evident in this colony. He has not merely spoken against the Crown, but written seditious pamphlets, as well.”

  Hunt grinned. “I have read the literature, sir. I have plans for Mr. Kenrick. He has been known to me for years.”

  Cullis frowned in confusion. “How, sir?” He knew that the man had appeared only recently in their lives.

  “My secret,” repli
ed Hunt.

  Cullis merely blinked in astonishment.

  Carver Gramatan spoke up. “There are also Mr. Frake’s cronies to consider, Mr. Hunt. Jock Fraser, who is a middling planter here. And that damned Indian, John Proudlocks. He inherited the late Mr. Reisdale’s estate, in contravention of Virginia law. Both men accompanied Mr. Frake to Boston. It would be quite galling to allow them the freedom to stir up more disaffection.”

  “Will your committee deal with them?” asked Hunt.

  “After we have dealt with Mr. Frake,” said Cullis. “They will be similarly charged. When do you plan to seize Morland Hall, sir?”

  “Soon after you have dealt with the man,” answered Hunt. “We must be orderly about this, don’t you think?”

  “Of course,” said Reece Vishonn. “Order, peace, and loyalty are our paramount concerns.”

  “Amen,” said Reverend Acland.

  “One last matter before we adjourn, gentlemen,” said Hunt. “Mr. Vishonn — can your lawful militia be counted on to preserve that order, peace and loyalty?”

  “Yes, sir. They are likewise content with Crown authority, and worry lest turmoil upset their lives and livelihoods. Many of them have confided that unless order is restored here, they will remove themselves to England, or Canada, or some other law-abiding venue.”

  “And welcome they would be there, if they must resort to that extremity!” chuckled Hunt. “However, we must all work to ensure that they needn’t so trouble themselves. I think we share that determination, and I shall write His Excellency about — ”

  A man opened the door to the room and rushed in. It was George Roane, the under-sheriff. He removed his hat and worried the brim with nervous hands. “Excuse me, sirs, but I have…news.”

  “What?” demanded Hunt, displeased with the interruption.

  Roane gulped and addressed Hunt. “I was guarding the jail, and Mrs. Tippet and Clemsy our servant was preparing a meal for Mr. Frake — ”

  “What news?” insisted Sheriff Tippet, alarmed by Roane’s presence.

  “Mr. Fraser, and Mr. Proudlocks, and several men came with arms and freed Mr. Frake! They took the keys from me and bound me and Clemsy and Mrs. Tippet up in the house! Not two hours ago! Then they rode off!” He glanced apologetically at his superior, Sheriff Tippet, and looked at the floor. “We shouted for help, but no one heard, sir. It took me an hour to loosen my ropes, and then I released Mrs. Tippet and Clemsy, and then I rode here straight away, where you said you’d be. They’re in such a state! I am sorry, sir. But we was taken by surprise!”

  “The scoundrels!” exclaimed Carver Gramatan.

  “What evil audacity!” sputtered Reverend Acland.

  Sheriff Tippet rose and confronted his subordinate. “Was Muriel harmed?” he asked about his wife.

  “No, sir! Just affrighted. They took care to tie her up gentle like. Clemsy, too. With me, they weren’t so gentle. Got rope burns on my wrists.”

  Edgar Cullis rose and asked, “Was Mr. Kenrick among those men, Mr. Roane?”

  “No, sir,” answered Roane, surprised that anyone should include the master of Meum Hall in the crime.

  Jared Hunt clucked his tongue. He rose and looked sternly at his company. “Sirs, this is not good. I say that you see to your duties this very moment, while I see to mine.”

  “What duties, Mr. Hunt?” asked Reece Vishonn, startled by the news, but more perplexed by the meaning of Hunt’s command.

  Hunt took one last gulp from the tankard of ale in front of him, then picked up his hat and put it on. “Why, the duties of a committee of safety! Behave like one! Assert your authority! Recapture Mr. Frake, and find his friends, and lock them all up, and post a militia guard on them! If you can manage that, I will stay for the trial and hangings.”

  “And you, sir?” asked Cullis. “What will you do?”

  “I am back to Hampton. And then I shall sail up to Caxton, to see that justice is done. If you people can’t manage it, I certainly intend to.” With that, the Inspector Extraordinary of the Customs turned and stalked out of the room.

  Chapter 12: The Words

  On the day of Jack Frake’s arrest and imprisonment, John Proudlocks rode from Meum Hall, first back to Caxton to call briefly on Lydia Heathcoate, the seamstress, to assure her that he was well, and then on to Jock Fraser’s place, to organize with that man the rescue of Jack Frake. Until Proudlocks appeared on his plantation and roused him from a sound sleep, Fraser had been ignorant of his superior’s arrest.

  After Fraser finished cursing individually each member of the committee of safety, he calmed down enough to listen to Proudlocks’s plan.

  “It’s a good plan, sir. And I know a farmer up at West Point who would take Jack in until things are cleared up.”

  “Good,” said Proudlocks.

  “And any man in the Company will help us in the work.”

  “This is true,” answered Proudlocks. He sat in a rattan chair on the porch of Fraser’s modest house, watching his host pace back and forth on the floorboards. He seemed to be waiting.

  Then Fraser stopped and frowned in realization. “But, good God, man! If we do this, they’ll lay the charge on us, as well! Have you thought of that?”

  Proudlocks nodded. “It has occurred to me.”

  “We couldn’t come home again! They’d come after us!”

  Proudlocks cocked his head in concession. “They might,” he said. “But, they might not, if the Company opposed them. I do not think Mr. Vishonn’s new militia is either as numerous as our Company, or as eager or ready to fight.” He raised a finger to make a point. “The two most powerful men on the committee are Mr. Cullis and Reverend Acland. They have an unsavory dislike of Mr. Frake, and wish to see him dead, or at least severely punished. Sheriff Tippet and Mayor Corbin are merely perpetuating their positions. I do not think their hearts are in the matter. Mr. Vishonn?” He shrugged in disgust. “He has fantasies of reclaiming his patents over the mountains, and reopening his mine, and reliving the ease of the past, all by grace of the Crown.”

  Fraser stood for a while to consider these observations. He asked, “Does Mr. Kenrick know? About Mr. Frake, that is?”

  “Yes. And I believe he will approve of our action. But we must not implicate him in it. He must remain free.” Proudlocks did not mention the contention between Hugh Kenrick and Jack Frake.

  “Why?”

  “To advise us of the enemy’s doings. That enemy now, besides Governor Dunmore, is some of our own countrymen.”

  “But once the deed is done, sir, how can we stop the committee from harming us, or our property?”

  “I shall compose a letter to be left on Mr. Cullis’s and Mr. Vishonn’s doorsteps, warning them that any action taken against us, or any further action taken against Mr. Frake, will invite…reciprocation. In it I shall assert that the sole legal power in this colony, given Governor Dunmore’s abdication, now resides in the Virginia Convention, presently meeting in Richmond town, and that Mr. Vishonn’s committee of safety is extralegal and will be held accountable for its actions, when order is restored here.”

  Fraser shook his head and sighed. “Sounds like anarchy, sir. No good can come from it, I’m afraid.”

  “I am afraid we are in a political…what is that word?…a political purgatory, until the Convention can assert its authority. We must defend ourselves the best we can until then.”

  Fraser hummed in concession of this point. “Have you informed Mr. Frake of this plan?”

  Proudlocks shook his head. “No. I merely assured him that he will be free again. Sheriff Tippet was standing outside the door. Mr. Robbins and Mr. Hurry had been there, but Jack sent them home to await events and go about their business. It was Henry Buckle who told me what had happened. He had gone to town to purchase some wares. And it is Henry I shall send round with my letter.” He paused. “I do not recommend that you go to town to see Jack. You might be arrested, as well.”

  “Why weren’t you?”

>   Proudlocks laughed. “I am now Sheriff Tippet’s attorney. And Mayor Corbin’s. I inherited their affairs from Mr. Reisdale’s practice. At least, they have regarded me as their attorney.”

  * * *

  As the committee of safety rode back to Caxton, Reverend Acland, riding a mount loaned to him by Carver Gramatan from his inn stables — and who was surprised that the minister could ride at all — lectured the others on Hugh Kenrick. “You must concede that his offenses are as many and craven as Mr. Frake’s. I have not seen a penny in tithe from him, either. He freed his slaves, in defiance of the law. He has frequently spoken treason in the Assembly, as Mr. Cullis can attest. He has written treasonous tracts. He has obstructed officers in the commission of their duties, thrice to my recollection. He attended that illegal assembly in New York some years ago, representing himself as a delegate from this colony, if I am not mistaken. He has never attended services in my church, in defiance of the law. He married a disreputable woman. And, I am certain that his prosperity flouts the legal precepts of fairness and equity. That has been his career in these parts. If the information provided me by my correspondents in England is to be credited, his career there can be described as no less than that of a renegade.”

  “We shall see justice done to him, as well, Reverend,” said Edgar Cullis. “Have no fear. But, one renegade at a time, sir. We have limited means at our disposal, and it is a delicate situation.”

  Vishonn volunteered, “True enough! If it were not for Mr. Hunt’s assurances and encouragement, we should not be able to act at all. We shall govern only on the sufferance of our county’s citizens. We should do nothing that will provoke any resentment against us. We must be cautious.”

  “Once justice has been served on Mr. Frake,” said Carver Gramatan, “there will be no question of the legitimacy of our authority. Prosecuting Mr. Frake may seem an outlandish and risky thing to do, but it will serve to establish our authority in the strongest terms. And, as you have just now pointed out, Mr. Vishonn, we will have the support of Mr. Hunt and his authority. I see few difficulties ahead of us.”