‘To me.’
‘Aye, well … justify your madness by bringing me information. Of Howe and the fleet, of the other Howe and the army. And of Burgoyne. Remember now. Three days.’
*
The maddest venture in history, Harry supposed. Yet simple enough, simply because no man would suppose he’d be mad enough to attempt it. He entered New York under shortened sail and with the Union flag flying from his mizen masthead, his ship obviously unarmed, while his handpicked crew of volunteers saluted the warships lying at anchor, and there were several of them, and gazed at the red jackets parading the waterfront. They were apprehensive, but they were also happy to be doing something at last, after their months of waiting; Harry had not had to seek men, had rather to turn them away.
Now it was a matter of accomplishing his purpose, and taking them out again. He received the harbourmaster in his cabin, pleading an injured leg to avoid standing up, and thus concealing his height, which might still be remembered. ‘Thomas O’Rourke,’ he explained, with a wicked sense of humour. ‘Out of Providence, Rhode Island …’ which he knew was firmly controlled by the British. ‘And seeking a cargo. Sure it is there’s no trade to be had up there.’
‘And none down here either,’ the harbourmaster said. ‘Nor will be, until we’ve driven these damned Yankees into the woods.’
‘You’ll not stop me seeking one?’ Harry asked plaintively.
‘You’ve twenty-four hours,’ the harbourmaster told him. ‘To be loaded and away. Or away unloaded. Or you’ll be requisitioned to carry government stores, and there’s precious little profit in that, I can tell you.’
‘Twenty-four hours will be enough,’ Harry said. ‘If you’ll give me a pass to go ashore.’ The harbourmaster nodded, and complied. Harry waited until after dark, and was then rowed to that so familiar dockside. Here he encountered a guard, but after peering at his pass the soldiers readily let him land; they were recent arrivals from England and had no recollection of the huge Irishman who had destroyed two of their compatriots.
He made his way along darkened streets, observing that if O’Hare’s Tavern now boasted the name, Merriman’s, nothing else had changed; almost he recognised the laughter and the shrill female cries coming from within. New York was being its usual pragmatic self, and if the British were here to stay, why then, the New Yorkers would suitably accommodate themselves to the prevailing fashion.
But one thing had certainly changed, he observed as he crossed the main street and sought the larger houses beyond; Bartlett’s Store had trebled its frontage — and was also guarded by armed red-jacketed soldiers. Commonsense told him more than ever that he had to be on a far more forlorn mission than ever attempting to capture the battery outside Nassau, but he would not change his mind, continued on his way until he arrived within sight of the gate he remembered so well. There too was a red-coated sentry, marching up and down, as well as several gigs and carriages waiting, their drivers gossiping, while beyond, inside the house, there was the sound of revelry and laughter, the clink of glasses and the evidence of a party.
He skirted the garden to reach the wall to the lawn and the orchard at the back. He expected to find another sentry, but there was no one, which proved that the man at the front was there for show and not really to repel marauders — presumably because there were no marauders in Tory New York. The wall he vaulted without difficulty, for all that the top was covered in a layer of broken bottles. Then he moved noiselessly across the lawn, staying close to the flowerbeds, and peered through the drawing room windows, to see half a dozen naval officers in blue coats, several civilian gentlemen in black coats, amongst them Josiah Bartlett, and a large number of ladies dressed in the height of fashion. Two footmen circulated with trays of drinks, and the conversation was animated. One by one he identified various New York merchants and their wives; Josiah he had already seen, and … there she was, on the far side of the room, standing beside a tall, handsome man in the uniform of a Navy captain, smiling at her guests, her hair this night concealed beneath a fashionable wig, all asparkle with jewels and sequins, to leave her neck and shoulders quite exposed, her face more beautiful than ever, her gown a glimmer of green and gold … and the man presented a most proprietorial air.
Harry retreated into the darkness, to wait. He wondered why. He should return to the ship and make sail immediately. He had no business here, nor was he likely actually to obtain any worthwhile information. Tonight he had seen the difference between the pair of them too clearly delineated. He was a colonial bandit and rebel, only masquerading under the title of American. Over there were the rulers and the victors, in all their confident splendour. And she was one of them, as she had always intended to be.
Yet he remained concealed in the orchard, as the evening wore on. Once he even dozed off, and awoke to the realisation that something had happened. A messenger had come to the house, and what he had had to say had ended the party. People were hurriedly taking their leave, talking at each other with red faces and wagging fingers, and they were no longer laughing and confident. He moved closer to the window again, watched the room empty. The tall naval officer, as he had suspected, was the very last, and indeed, remained for a final goblet of wine with Josiah while Elizabeth gave instructions to the servants, who soon afterwards also left. Then Josiah yawned, and shook hands with the officer, and Elizabeth walked him to the door, and then down the path. Harry moved round the building to continue watching them. He felt no shame at thus eavesdropping. This was a part of his own life, drifting away from him.
The sentry had tactfully withdrawn round the corner, and the couple at the gate kissed, lightly and chastely, yet with the intimacy of two people who knew they would soon be lovers. The officer set his tricorne on his head and strode away down the street, paused at the corner to wave, and Elizabeth waited at the gate, for the wave. Then she closed the gate, and turned to walk back to the house.
‘His name?’ Harry asked.
She stopped, a slight jerk of the head her only movement of alarm, although her eyes searched the shadows by the door. ‘Harry?’ she whispered.
‘His name, Lizzie.’
‘Are you mad, coming here like this? They will hang you.’
‘Only if you betray me, Liz.’
‘Of course I will not do that.’ She looked at the house, ascertained that the upstairs lights had been dimmed, looked back at the gate to make sure the sentry had not yet returned to his post, and then stepped into the darkness beside him. ‘Harry …’
‘Tell me about this man.’
She hesitated, still several feet away from him. ‘His name is Captain Steyne. Captain Lord Steyne.’
‘Ah,’ Harry said. ‘And he is your lover?’
‘He is my future husband,’ she said. ‘We are to be married the moment his tour of duty in the Americas is finished, which was to have been within the month …’ her voice trailed away.
‘But something has happened to change that?’
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
Again she hesitated, then shrugged. ‘You will know of it soon enough. General Burgoyne has surrendered his army to your General Gates.’
For a moment Harry’s brain would not accept that she had said. ‘The army from Canada, has surrendered?’ he asked. ‘A British army, has surrendered to an American one?’
‘Oh … they got lost in the woods, and were surrounded.’
‘Well, then …’ he caught her arm.
‘Do you suppose one defeat can make any difference at all?’
‘It will make some difference,’ he told her. Some difference, he thought. A victory, the first real American victory since Lexington. How that news would bring cheer to Congress and its general. How the whole world suddenly seemed to have taken on a more permanent aspect.
‘And so you thought I might change my mind and elope with you, Harry,’ she said.
Yes, he thought. I thought that. Or I at least hoped it. And if you would not, I have c
ome prepared to throw you across my shoulder and carry you off. But he knew he was not going to do that, now. Partly to be sure because Burgoyne’s defeat meant that there was a chance of survival for these United States, and thus yet a place for Harry McGann to build a future — but also because, regardless of politics, Elizabeth Bartlett could only be loved, never forced.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I came to congratulate you, on your good fortune. You are to be a milady. That is too high for me.’
‘You could not have come for that,’ she said.
‘Had I known of your engagement, I would not have come at all. Now I must take my leave.’
‘You did hope,’ she said, perhaps trying to convince herself. She stepped almost against him. ‘Oh, Harry … we heard of your exploit in Nassau.’
‘A sorry venture. You shall not see my face again, Liz. I apologise for revealing it now. But as you say, I had hoped …’ Because he still did?
But she had undergone another of her startling changes of mood. ‘That I would be prepared to betray my country?’
‘That since our Declaration of Independence you might be prepared to look on me in a more friendly spirit.’
‘Words count for little in this world, Harry. It is deeds which matter. I have also heard how you deserted from a King’s ship. That was a terrible thing to do. A man does not cease to be a traitor to his King merely by saying, I am no longer a British subject. Only his King can give him the right to say that.’
He nodded. ‘We are poles apart as ever. Save that I love you, Liz, I would hate you.’
She gazed at him through the darkness. ‘As I would like to love you, Harry. But it is not possible.’ She held out her hand. ‘I am not sorry I knew you, and so nearly loved you. But I shall not think of you again, Harry McGann. Now leave New York before I recall my duty.’ He ignored the offered fingers. If he once touched her, he was not sure he would be able to let her go. ‘I shall say goodbye. Forever. But madam, as you are to marry a naval officer, I will also pray that you never discover the hell that can lead a man to desert a King’s ship.’
*
‘I cannot pretend I am terribly sorry,’ Paul Jones remarked. ‘I grieve for your grief, but we have a war to win, and that woman would hang around your neck like a millstone, Harry. Now I seek a promise: you will never pursue her again.’
‘Her, or any woman,’ Harry said. ‘I give that willingly.’
Paul grinned. ‘I’d not ask so much of you. Only Elizabeth Bartlett. You will find the right woman, when this conflict is over. Until then, come man, wipe away that lugubrious expression. You have once again covered yourself in glory, in bringing the news of Burgoyne’s surrender before even Gates could send it. And is it not splendid to be at sea, at last?’ Harry smiled. It was splendid, to be at sea, in the finest vessel yet to fly the American flag. And at last, totally equipped, down to her last gun and her last ball. Cape May had fallen behind them during the night and this morning found them alone on the ocean, steering east to get an offing, but ready to do battle with anything short of a line of battle ship, and with a crew as eager as themselves, after the long months of inactivity. ‘I shall mope no more, Captain,’ he said. ‘I only await your orders.’
‘And I have only what may be contained in this envelope.’ Paul took it from his pocket. ‘Sealed orders, Harry, not to be opened until we have lost sight of land. Which would seem to be now.’ He frowned, weighed the paper in his hand. ‘’Tis awful light. Come below.’ He led the way down the companion ladder to the great cabin, sat before the table, and slit the manila. Inside there was a single sheet of paper. His frown deepened as he read. ‘We are to cross the Atlantic, Harry.’
‘Cross the ocean? But why?’
‘We are to make for Nantes, with all possible speed, stopping for nothing, absolutely nothing, on the way. Our first duty is to carry the news of Burgoyne’s surrender to France; Congress seems to feel this may have an important bearing on the French attitude towards us and the war. Think of that, Harry. But there is more. In Nantes supplies will await us. And then, using Nantes as a base, we are to cause the maximum disruption we can to British shipping.’
‘Around Britain?’ Harry’s heart was pounding. He was going home. At least in a manner of speaking. But surely, once on the other side of the Atlantic, a visit to Tramore might be possible.
‘Aye. Well, it makes some sense. Hit them before they even start for America. And bring home to the British what the war is all about. Oh, aye, it makes sense.’ He was still reading. ‘We are to co-ordinate our plans with those put forward by the American representative in Paris, Benjamin Franklin. Have you ever met Franklin?’
‘No,’ Harry said. ‘But I have heard of him.’
‘I met him, once,’ Jones said. ‘He was here last year to sign the Declaration of Independence. Something of a poseur, I fancy. But sharp. Oh, sharp. And he has the ear of the French. That is important. Well, Harry, I asked for an independent command, and by God, I have got it. Maximum disruption.’ He grinned. ‘There is a command which appeals to my fancy. Maximum disruption.’
CHAPTER 9 – England and France, 1777-78
Benjamin Franklin turned out to be a stockily built man with an absentminded air. He dressed very simply in a plain brown suit, and if he wore a fashionable wig, it was somewhat askew and none too clean. But he had one of the most penetrating gazes Harry had ever encountered, for all his air of studied laziness. ‘A fine ship,’ he remarked, when he had completed his inspection of the Ranger — and his interest had taken him down even to the orlop deck and beyond, the bilges; Harry had almost supposed he would climb one of the masts. Now he led the way back to the cabin. ‘You have a powerful weapon here, Captain Jones. It but remains to use it to the best possible purpose.’
‘That is certainly my intention,’ Paul Jones agreed.
‘Your plan?’
‘Why, sir, to enter the English Channel and see what can be done.’
‘Vague,’ Franklin observed. ‘And dangerous. You would have a swarm of Navy ships out looking for you within an hour of being sighted.’
Paul frowned. ‘With respect, sir, I do not see how I can disrupt enemy shipping without being sighted.’
‘You are here to further the American cause, Captain, to the best possible advantage,’ Franklin said. ‘Have you no wine?’
‘Indeed we do, sir,’ Harry said, and produced a bottle and three glasses.
‘Even hell and damnation should be discussed in a civilised manner,’ Franklin observed, sipping his wine, considering, nodding, and then sitting down and stretching out his legs. ‘Are you aware, Captain Jones, that there are several hundred Americans, some of them officers of talent, languishing in British gaols at this moment?’
‘No, sir, I was not aware of that,’ Paul said. ‘Nor am I aware how I can profit from such knowledge, if that is what you are driving at.’
‘Well, sir, it occurs to me that one ship, fine as she may be, and well commanded as she may be, is yet but one ship, a drop in a full bucket compared with the enormous amount of sail that flies the Union Jack. I would have thought that a specialised programme would be of more certain benefit to our cause. As for instance, if you were able to help those prisoners, to free them, it would be of far more value than sinking one or two ships. As for how it might be done, well, prisoners, Captain Jones, are sometimes exchanged. Indeed, they are often exchanged, where the exchange is to the benefit of both parties.’
‘You will have to tell me what you have in mind, sir. What have I, what have we, to offer the British in exchange for their prisoners of war?’
‘Why prisoners of your own, Captain.’
‘Certainly I hope to accumulate some of those, Mr Franklin, but they will in the main be common seamen, I suspect. Hardly sufficient to sway the British. And I can only accumulate even them by capturing enemy shipping.’
‘Which will take time and, as you say, be to very little purpose. Therefore would it not be best for us to concentr
ate upon a limited number, perhaps no more than one … but that someone who will sway them.’
‘Sir?’
‘Let me see … what about a member of the Cabinet?’
‘Show me one, within my reach.’
‘Nothing could be simpler. I am thinking of the Earl of Selkirk.’
‘Sir?’
‘A powerful man. Much respected. And feared. Seize him, and the British will do everything humanly possible to get him back.’
‘I know of Selkirk,’ Paul said, his voice hard, ‘he sits in the Lords. Thus I may as well seek to seize the King himself. Do you intend me to sail up the Thames, and hold London to ransom? With but a single ship?’
‘I was told you are an intelligent man,’ Franklin said, with surprising asperity. ‘Parliament does not sit year round. There is a considerable season when its members disperse to their country estates, and Easter is one of those seasons. Selkirk is fonder of his estates than most, Captain Jones, and his favourite, as I am sure you of all people will remember, happens to be situated in the county of Cumberland, hard by the seaport of Whitehaven. Now, sir, I have a notion it is a part of the world with which you are not unfamiliar.’
‘By God,’ Paul Jones said. ‘By God! That is just across the Solway Firth from Dumfrieshire.’
‘Your erstwhile home,’ Frankline reminded him.
‘By God,’ Paul said a third time.
‘So there,’ Franklin continued. ‘You have the opportunity to strike a formidable blow for your country, and at the same time achieve some personal satisfaction — for what man does not dream of returning to his home in power and glory, certainly after having left it in abject poverty, and having been an exile for so long? There is your task, Captain Jones. A worthy test for a ship as well crewed and commanded as this one. I do not seek to flatter you, or …’ he glanced at Harry, ‘your officers. You have proved your ability by the speed with which you crossed the ocean, and your good fortune as well, in the news you have brought with you. All France is agog. There may be great things about to happen. We must build on them. May I wish you every success, Captain Jones?’ Harry realised that by a consummate mixture of firmness, cajolery, and flattery, this man was even capable of commanding so wayward a spirit as that of his friend.
Old Glory Page 22
