‘Don’t worry, parson. King George will pay for that.’
‘Will he, though? We’ve seen precious little of his money so far. Take the fool’s address, I say, just in case.’
The driver seemed to curse under his breath, and then the world became a cacophony of thuds, rattles and squeaks for the next hour while I was removed to a place of safety, which turned out to be one of the wooden houses I had passed on the way in, near the hamlet of Birmingham.
‘Hannah!’ called the driver as he got down from his seat, ‘Come and help me carry in this poor boy.’
‘Oh my Lord!’ exclaimed a redfaced old woman, running out, ‘What on earth has happened?’
‘Hessians got him; crucified him in ice on the door of the English Church.’
‘Monsters!’ said the woman, putting her hands under my frozen armpits and dragging me off the wagon. ‘What on earth is happening to this country?’
‘It is not the same one Daniel died for, that is for sure, wife. Now, let us get him in front of the fire, quick.’
I did not like the sound of that quick, but I did like the feel of the wonderful fire. I was laid on an old blanket in front of it, and left to thaw out like a frozen crumpet. Unable to speak even if I wanted to – and I was not sure that I did – I listened to the old couple’s conversation as they fussed around.
‘Came over from across the river to sell his wares; entered the square when the rogues were drilling apparently. They probably thought he was a spy. Lucky for him that I was going into town to stock up on candles today, because that rascally parson of ours would not have helped him.’
‘I tell you, husband, I am losing sympathy with the King’s cause. I do not like the use of these Hessians, and by all accounts the British troops themselves have not been behaving well in New Jersey. We deserve better, but I suppose we are too old to change things now.’
At first I thought it was just age that accounted for the elegiac note in their conversation, but as they talked on I realized that it was due as much to the loss of their son at Ticonderoga in 1758, in the famous British disaster there against the French. I had read about the hopeless frontal assault ordered by the inept James Abercromby on that occasion, and it seemed strange to think that the repercussions were still being felt almost twenty years later. The fact that they were – and that the British were alienating even now such stout Tories as this pair – made me suddenly think that the war in America was as good as lost already.
Their sadness aside, however, the old folks’ presence was most reassuring. Talking little after the initial excitement had died down, they sat in chairs on either side of me and watched over me, the old man smoking a fragrant pipe, the old woman knitting a scarf. At intervals they bestirred themselves to tip a little hot rum down my gullet, a feat I did not struggle against. Eventually, my clothes unfroze sufficiently for me to be able to move my limbs, which I did with great exaggerated sweeps that had them cooing with pleasure. This was the sign they had obviously been waiting for; I was led to a bedroom, stripped, and togged out in a set of Fifties clothes. Then, Daniel reincarnated, I was returned in front of the fire.
‘Can’t speak, can you, lovey?’ said the old woman, admiring me most disturbingly. ‘Shock of it has done for your voice, hasn’t it?’
It hadn’t, but I thought it best to keep quiet. One, I did not want to ruin the fantasies they were projecting onto me; and two, I did not want talk about such an overpowering grief as theirs. I gurgled and gurned instead.
‘Well, this is lovely, is it not, Chesney?’ she cooed. ‘Just like the old days.’
The old man grunted, as though it was not bad, but not as good as the real thing.
‘Boy,’ he said eventually, perhaps after prodding from his wife, ‘my name is Chesney Lovett, and this is my wife, Hannah Lovett. I do not think I am talking out of turn when I say that you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish.’
I wondered how many boys they had said that to before, but I was nevertheless most touched, and gave them a happy gurgle that quite delighted them. The next gurgle I gave them, however, was not so well received, coming as it did from the deepest pits of my guts. This was followed seconds later, as sure as thunder follows lightning, by the loudest, dirtiest fart I had ever emitted in my life. The resultant stench was foul, but there was no time to feel shame before five more volleys shot out of me like firecrackers.
‘Oh dear!’ exclaimed Mrs Lovett, staggering out of the room, hand to her mouth, ‘oh dear, dear, dear!’
Shocked myself, I tried to laugh it off, but the metheglin was now raging around my lower regions like a Hessian in a Bath tea shop. My guts suddenly began to ache prodigiously, and my bowels seemed to lose all cohesion. Laughing no more, I crawled towards the door so that could I pull down my breeches and decompose more freely outside, but I did not make it: a deceptively achievable fart brought with it a fat squirt of ordure which totally desecrated Daniel’s memory. Deeply ashamed, I was about to break cover and call for a chamber pot when I was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged outside.
‘Dirty dog!’ admonished Chesney severely. ‘Get out and stay out!’
Willing enough to do as told, I rolled and groaned in the snow until the evacution had finished with me; then I cleaned myself up as best I could and staggered to my feet. Drawing a deep breath I knocked on the door, confident that after an apology I would be let in again. However, though I knocked my knuckles raw, there was no sign of any life indoors at all; no, I could not even hear them crying at the memory of their son. Satisfied at last that the Lovetts wanted no more to do with me, and duly disgusted by their inhumanity, I had no alternative but to make my weary way back towards the river. Bemerded and perhaps fatally weakened in the gut area, able to hear nothing above the rattle of my teeth, I was at least happy in the knowledge that the Hessians were suffering a hundred times worse than I. Picturing them in their barracks, which must by now have turned into a Teutonic version of the Augean stables, I first smirked, then smiled, then laughed out loud. It could not have happened to a more deserving people.
48
At Variance
I was almost dead when the ferrymen picked me up, and for once probably looked worse than they did, because I had the greatest difficulty in breathing, and feared that my lungs had somehow solidified. Indeed, so bad had I become, that I had to kneel down in the prow of the boat, and alternately gasp for breath and puke my guts up. Then the coughing and the chest pains started, so that by the time the patrol appeared to collect me, I was a spewing, shaking wretch, grovelling in the snow.
‘Aha, Oysterman, you rogue,’ I heard Captain Flood’s voice call down to me. ‘Horse gone, cart gone, new garb acquired. You have a story to tell, I trow.’
‘Aye, but not to you, Stick Man,’ I wheezed and spluttered with my last reserves of strength.
‘You have the information required for General Washington, I trust?’
‘Tis none of your business.’
‘Search him, lads.’
I was searched, and punched a few times in the face for good measure.
‘No papers on him at all, Sir. Just blood, vomit, snot and shit.’
‘Ho ho,’ laughed one of the other soldiers, ‘then we are in for a hanging, boys. Come on, let’s get him back to our lines as quickly as we can. I have always wanted to see a spy executed at dawn.’
Thrown over the back of one of the horses, I was then subjected to dreary gallows humour for the entire duration of our return to camp. But I weathered it manfully, not least because I knew the importance of the information I had in my head for Washington, and I did not believe Washington was the sort of man who would renege on his word. Visions of a peaceful life on a peaceful farm kept me focused on the business of staying alive, until finally the torture came to an end, and I found myself, after being washed and given a change of clothes, back under lock and key in the same room I had so recently vacated.
I had not been there long, head lolling over the side of the bed, when the face of General Washington floated over the contents of my chamber pot. At first I thought I was hallucinating, until I realized ‘twas a feat of typical daring and exquisite timing on the part of the great man.
‘You have information for me, I trust, Sir.’
I groaned and turned my face away in disgust, the words fuck off hovering on my lips. ‘Twas not that I did not want to talk to the man, ‘twas just that I did not want to talk to him yet.
‘Come, Sir, I know that you are ill and do not wish to be disturbed; but ‘tis vital to our cause that I have the information immediately. Once I have it, I will leave you to your rest and recovery. I will not ask you to recount all your experiences – they look as though they might be too painful to recall anyway – but I do need a summary of them.’
Pushing him out of the way with my right arm – catching, by the feel of it, his eyeball with my little finger in the process – I heaved once more into the swishing chamberpot, then, spittle dripping from my chops, I composed myself sufficiently to remember and speak.
‘Totally unprepared,’ I panted. ‘No defences at all. No earthworks. No trenches. No discipline. Men drunken brutes. Rall a pig. Picket line at Hermitage House. Nothing between there and town. Rall in quarters opposite English Church. Men billeted on houses in the town. Told Rall in person that the American cause is done for, and that there is no earthly possibility of being attacked.’
‘Good man, good man,’ Washington encouraged, taking the pot away and passing it to someone unseen for emptying. ‘Any artillery in place?’
‘Only one cannon outside Rall’s HQ, was all I could see.’
‘Excellent. You have done a fine job, Sir. You are well on the way being a man of Loyalist property, if things go well as a result of this information. I hope you have thought further on that head?’
‘Yes, and I will take you up on your offer after all; but mention of Loyalists reminds me. My life was probably saved by an elderly Loyalist couple who live just outside Birmingham. Their name is Lovett, and I would be grateful if you can do all you can to ensure that they come to no harm. I do not want to appropriate their house.’
‘Lovett, you say?’ Washington seemed to make a note of the name. ‘I will try to comply with your request. But you must remember, Sir, this is war, and I am as much a toy of Fortune as anyone else. I cannot have total control over my troops.’
‘I understand,’ I gasped, worn out by the talk. ‘Now, Sir, I must beg your pardon while I attend once more to my pot.’
With great civility, the empty chamberpot was returned to its place, and I obliged by spewing into it heartily – so heartily, in fact, that much of the mess splashed back into my face and hair, and possibly Washington’s too.
‘That is some illness, Sir,’ he said, before adding hopefully: ‘Not a result of drinking poisoned metheglin, I hope?’
‘Yes it is, actually,’ I snapped. ‘Or rather, to be precise, a result of having it poured down my throat by rough-mannered Hessians.’
‘Excellent!’ enthused Washington, ‘Excellent!’ Then, remembering his manners, he added hastily: ‘Though not of course for you, Sir. Perhaps you would like me to send your wife in to administer succour?’
‘Nothing she can do,’ I gasped. ‘Let her sleep, if that indeed is what she is doing.’
‘Very well. But when you do see her, remember for the time being not to tell her anything of your real business. You will not have to keep it secret much longer. A few more days, and you will be a free agent once more, assuming you recover from this illness. Until then, Mr Oysterman, goodbye.’
I gave a feeble wave, then heard the door close and lock. At last I was free to draw the blankets over my head, and return once more to my private battle with the demons wracking my body. I was engaged in what seemed like my hundredth skirmish – which, strangely, seemed to be taking place in a howling snowstorm – when I heard a voice calling me awake.
‘Harry, Harry – ‘tis I, Sophie. Wake up.’
Reluctantly – for I just seemed to have found the key to the gates of Oblivion – I did so, and I noticed with surprise that I was in the middle of a howling snowstorm. Snowflakes were swirling around the room, and collecting in piles at the corners furthest away from the fire. Vaguely wondering if the British had somehow crossed the Delaware and demolished the outside wall with cannonballs, I rolled my body and blankets into the tightest ball possible and tried to go back to sleep.
‘No, no, no. Wake up, I say. I know you are ill, sweetness, but what is taking place outside at this moment is above illness – ‘tis history in the making, and I know how much you love history. You would never forgive me for letting you miss this, so listen!’
I cocked my head and heard a distant voice coming in on the early-morning wind. I looked round and saw Sophie standing in the dark by the open window, beckoning me towards her with a look of high excitement on her face. I tried to raise myself up, but was slammed back in place by my iron lungs.
‘No, sweetness,’ I groaned. ‘I cannot move. Simply tell me what is happening.’
‘What is happening, Harry, is that the officers are about to start reading to the troops the words of Tom Paine’s latest pamphlet. ‘Tis called, I believe, The American Crisis, and it is being read out as a spur to the boys before our attack on Trenton….listen, they’re starting…’
At first I could hear nothing but a few coughs and sneezes, then an educated voice rang out firmly.
‘…These are the times that try men’s souls…the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph…’
‘Twas indeed stirring stuff, and I strained to hear the rest of it, but the wind began to blow in a different direction, and I was permitted only the odd phrase more, annoyingly distorted.
‘Oh, Harry!’ exulted Sophie, punching the air in delight when the readings had finished and the men were cheering outside, ‘Wasn’t that wonderful? I feel I could go out now and destroy Trenton all on my own. Only a genius with words could rouse such tired men to further exertion.’
‘The part I heard was not bad,’ I croaked sourly, ‘but as for the rest I cannot judge. ‘Tis not unusual for writers to start well, then trail off dismally. Anyway,’ I sniffed, feeling despicable Pride bubble up, ‘it is easy for him to put fine words together, he is safe in Philadelphia. Others of us are – how shall we say? – more actively engaged in winning the war.’
‘Meaning?’ said Sophie.
‘Meaning that ‘twas my spying mission into Trenton yesterday that cleared the way for the readings you have just heard.’
‘Oh Harry, you hero! Then you were not merely collecting documents we had left behind in Trenton? I knew there was more to it. Tell me all about it.’
‘Only if you shut that window.’
The window was slammed shut with alacrity, and I told her all about it as she bounced with excitement on the edge of the bed.
‘But you must not repeat this to anyone. I will be hung if the secret gets out.’
‘Of course I won’t repeat it. Oh, Harry – I knew you would see the error of your ways, and come over to the right side eventually. I just knew it, and now I am married to a Revolutionary Hero, as I had always dreamed!’
‘Ah no, I am on no-one’s side, my dear, nor am I a hero. Circumstances have dictated every one of my actions. I am no more than a pawn pushed around by Fate.’
‘That does not matter when Providence is the player. There is a greater purpose to events than we can see. Your acts are admirable, my dear, even if your intentions are cool.’
‘Whatever, that is our part in the salvation of America done. And I can tell you now that Genera
l Washington – as well as rescinding my death sentence – has indeed offered me a Loyalist house as a reward, assuming he finds my information to be correct, as he will. And what’s more he will furnish it for us too, if against all the odds he wins a victory at Trenton. So all we have to do is make our way to Philadelphia as planned, and wait there until Congressional approval comes through for the transfer of property.’
‘Oh Harry, that is wonderful news. But what do you mean about our part being done? Our part is far from done, if ‘tis furnishings we want.’
‘What!’ I exclaimed, astonished. ‘Surely you do not intend us to go into battle just to get a few free chairs and tables?’
The ensuing silence suggested that she did.
‘That is ridiculous. Anyway, I cannot go even if I wanted to. I am dangerously ill.’
‘There are men out there just as ill as you.’
‘I doubt that very much,’ I scoffed, coughing furiously to prove it.
‘Well, perhaps not quite as bad as you, but not far off, and they will be going to Trenton. They are fired up.’
‘Of course they are, they are damned Americans! I am no more American than Catherine the Great.’
‘I am disappointed in you, sweetness. I thought you would have more sympathy with people who have saved your bacon, and provided us with property and land, and the means of subsistence. But I intend to go over, and I will.’
‘I suppose the girls will be going as well?’
‘Of course, they are Patriots to their very core.’
‘Well,’ I said defensively, ‘I have done my bit, as I keep saying. I have helped to bring Burnley Axelrod in and I have spied for Washington. I have already done more for the cause than that lot out there combined.’
‘That is why we are more valuable. Why stop at a house and some furnishings? We are in a position now to make ourselves invaluable to Washington. If we prove our continued loyalty to the cause we can rise through the ranks; first of the army and then of Congress. You could become President eventually, or whatever it is we shall have when we have finally sent King George packing. Imagine that, Harry – President Oysterman. Your face will be on all the banknotes, your name will be in the history books forever, and we will get to live in some big palace of a house. This is not England, you know, Harry, full of barriers that hold you back. We are starting life anew here, and anything is possible if you think big enough.’
Infernal Revolutions Page 62
