The Midshipman Prince Read online

  * * *

  The sandy shoreline quickly gave way to the rich brown dirt of the Virginia countryside. The moon gave them enough light to keep them from bumping into things, but not enough for them to visually stand out. Before long, they ran across the dual-rutted tracks of a farm-to-market road heading west and they took it.

  Roads in colonial Chesapeake were not as highly developed as in other parts of the colonies; they didn’t need to be. Most towns were located on creeks, rivers, or on the bay itself and it was a lot easier, cheaper, and faster to move goods and people by water than by land. The exceptions were a handful of roads that linked the maritime towns to larger cities in the interior. In good weather, these were navigable by almost any kind of conveyance. Feeding in to these main arteries were the farm-to-market roads that linked the individual farmers to the major highways and frequently involved opening and closing gates as the traveler passed from one property to another.

  Travel by horse was uncommon. The reasons for this were twofold. First, horses were expensive to buy and maintain; and second, the average person could usually travel farther and faster on foot then he could on a horse. A human on foot could cover 25 to 30 miles in ten hours of walking and do that day after day. A horse could go faster, but after 15-20 miles would need to be rested until the next day. Far better—and cheaper—to just walk.

  Be that as it may, Walker was very much wishing for a horse as the evening developed. Contrary to his name, walking was not something he did much of, and he could see the same was true of the others.

  Susan was up ahead with Hanover, so Sidney dropped back to talk with Walker.

  “So, what do you think, Lucas?” Smith began.

  “About what?”

  “About all this. Our chances of pulling this off.”

  Walker was silent for a minute. “I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s like one minute I am sure we can do it and get out of this mess. The next... I think we don’t have a prayer.

  “How about you?”

  Smith shrugged. “I think it doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at it this way, Lucas. Think of it as a giant circle—a wheel, if you will, that’s turning. The purpose of a wheel is to turn. That’s all it knows; that’s all it does. But in order for that wheel to make one revolution, in order for it to complete itself, that which was high must become low, and that which was low must become high.”

  Walker was trying to make out Smith’s face in the moonlight. “What the hell are you talking about? You sound like some kind of mystic or something.”

  “No, not at all; at least I am not trying to be. All I am saying is that we are strapped to that wheel. Its purpose is to turn, and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. Today you can be as high as you can be, tomorrow as low as you can go. Tonight we succeed and we blow past a bored sentry without being seen. Tomorrow we might be watching our entrails spill out on the ground, complements of a rebel bayonet.

  “There is nothing we can do about it either way, Lucas. Nothing at all.”

  “Jesus, you sound so pessimistic.”

  “Pessimistic?? Oh, good God, no. It’s glorious, Lucas, absolutely glorious. While I admit, we’re just along for the ride—what an incredible ride it is. Didn’t you feel it tonight?

  “When we were in the water and the sentry was taking a leak, and we had that damn rat swimming past us, and we had to remain motionless... didn’t you feel it?”

  “Feel what? Stop talking in riddles.”

  “Christ, Lucas, have you ever—and I mean ever—felt more alive than at that moment. Are you telling me your eyesight was not keener, your hearing not more acute, your sense of smell and touch and taste—all as sharp as a knife’s edge? You didn’t sense that?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

  “And was it not glorious?”

  Walker bit back a smart remark. Besides, Smith was trying to make a larger point here and he wanted to understand it. “You make it sound like a game.”

  “No, it’s not a game. That sentry really would have killed one or more of us if he had caught us. On the other hand, it is a game. A wild, wonderful, one.

  “And if it’s a game... All I know is that I want to be a part of it. I want to play it until I can play no longer. Can you think of any possible way of spending your life that would be better than that?”

  Walker continued walking in silence. He listened to the night sounds as they passed through woods and fields and to the crunch of his footsteps on the earth and stone of the roadbed. He smelled the unseen plants and trees. He marveled at the unbelievable canvas of stars above him. And, he thought hard about what Smith had said.

  * * *

  Sometime just before dawn they came across the Gloucester Road and turned north. With the morning sun came welcome relief to bodies that had been exposed too long to the night chill. They slipped into a stand of trees and bedded down as best they could. Smith had the first watch but it wasn’t more than two hours before he was shaking the others awake.

  “Up! Everyone up. Someone’s coming,” Smith whispered. The four moved to a nearby group of shrubs and peered through.

  “Down the road, about a half mile. By that rise.”

  It was visible more by the plume of dust than anything else; but, sure enough, something was there. In a few minutes, they could make out a horse drawn cart.

  “It’s a blagger,” Smith hissed.

  “A what?” asked Walker.

  “A blagger. Profiteer. Total scum. These are people who provide the soldiers with all the things the army is supposed to provide them, but doesn’t.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

  “You don’t understand. The reason the men don’t have those things is because the blaggers have siphoned them off with everything from bribery to outright theft. You see, it’s not the big items they go after. They don’t steal muskets, they steal the cleaning kits and spare parts the men need to keep the muskets working. They don’t steal food but if you want a kettle to cook it in—see the blagger. Want shoes? Want a new blanket? A sewing kit? Want paper and ink to write home? See the blagger and he’ll sell it to you... at ten to twenty times the actual cost. They’re bastards.”

  While the group was watching the road Walker heard a rustle and saw Susan pull Sidney Smith aside. They were having an animated conversation, but Susan seemed to have the last word. They returned to the lookout spot.

  “You two stay here—and I mean stay here, no matter what you see—or think you see,” Susan said. And, with no further explanation, Susan and Sidney stood up, went to the road, and started walking down it. Sidney was walking ahead as if he could care less whether Susan followed or not; Susan followed with a dejected shuffle.

  The blagger soon pulled alongside and after some initial conversation began a dialog with Smith. After a few moments, Smith pulled Susan over by the wrist and said something to her. She seemed to cringe. Smith then batted her on the back of the head—hard—snapping her head forward. Both Walker and Hanover tensed but stayed where they were. Slowly Susan lifted her skirt displaying two very pale but rather shapely legs.

  The blagger got down from the wagon. He seemed to be all smiles, but it was hard to tell at that distance through the multiple chins on his puffy face. Hitching up his pants around his belly, he handed something to Smith, and then grabbed Susan to kiss her. She coquettishly pushed him off and indicated a stand of trees fifty yards or so on the other side of the road. Smith leaned against the wagon casually examining his fingernails as they went off.

  Within five minutes, Susan had returned alone and Smith was wildly gesturing to Walker and Hanover to come down.

  “Get in,” Smith yelled as he took the reins and spurred the horse into action. The horse took off at a shambling trot which, given the horse’s condition, was probably full speed for him.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Hanover demanded.

  “I just sold Susan
and we now have a horse and wagon.”

  “You did WHAT!?” Walker demanded, his eyes open wide.

  “Well, I didn’t really sell her; I sort of... rented her out. Got a nice price, too.”

  Susan quickly jumped in the conversation. “Relax, Lucas. The gentleman and I just went for a little walk.”

  “A little walk,” Walker sputtered, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well, it seems he had some amorous intentions as well.”

  “And what happened to this amorous gentlemen?”

  “I am not sure exactly. I think a tree limb must have fallen on his head somehow,” she said innocently. “I have such terrible luck with men, you know.”

  Walker was stunned. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, things to...”

  “Wait a minute.” Hanover placed his hand on Walker’s arm. “What’s keeping this man from coming after us right now, or rather when he wakes up.”

  Susan didn’t say a word. She just dropped a bundle on Hanover’s lap containing the man’s pants and shoes.

  “Just how much did you get, Sidney?” Susan asked.

  * * *

  The four ambled along in the cart for the remainder of the day alternately sleeping and eating from the profiteer’s extensive provisions. Susan was up in the buckboard and Hanover was driving, each alone with their thoughts until Hanover finally spoke up.

  “Where’re you from, Susan?”

  “Where am I from? Portsmouth. Actually, from Portsmouth Common up on the north side of town.”

  “Family?”

  “Father’s dead, mother’s still in Portsmouth last I heard; but it’s been quite some time. Had a brother before me but he died while still an infant.”

  “What did your father do?”

  “Ah, we were a seagoing family, we were. My grandfather was a master carpenter at the shipyards. My father was an able seaman aboard the Swiftsure under Sir Thomas Stanhope. He died at the Battle of Quiberon just before I was born. Don’t know how. They never told us.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. That must have been hard on your mother and you.”

  “Oh, yes. My mother was in her late 20’s at the time—so she was far too old to attract another man. With no money coming in, we had a rough time all right. And, you know the worst of it?”

  Hanover shook his head.

  “As I said, my dad served with Sir Thomas on the Swiftsure which had one of the best prize records in the Mediterranean. With all that prize money he was, by our standards, a wealthy man. When he died, though, all that money was forfeit to the Crown. ‘How can we pay a dead man?’ they told us.” Susan was getting agitated now.

  “Well, the man might be dead, but he died in the king’s service and he still has a family. Instead, the bastards just take the money for themselves. You’d think the king has enough money without grabbing a few pounds from widows who...”

  Susan suddenly realized to whom she was talking. The king was Hanover’s father and the “bastards” in question were his relatives.

  “Oh my God. I am sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to... that is, I guess I just started thinking of you as ‘Bill’ and I forgot...”

  “Relax, Susan. I am Bill, and don’t you forget that or it’s liable to get us all killed. Besides,” he said with a smile, “I’d give a hundred pounds for some people I can think of to hear what you just said.” He then got a far away look in his eyes. “In fact, if I ever get back to England... they damn well will.

  “Anyway, do go on. What happened then?”

  “Well, mother eventually got work with some other women making slow-match in the ordinance shed at the shipyard. I think someone there remembered my grandfather and got her the job. Anyway, she’s worked there my whole life—21 years. I am afraid she’s doing poorly now, though. All those years of breathing those chemicals.”

  “So, you were destined to go to sea somehow yourself?”

  Susan laughed and showed her wonderful smile. “Oh, Lordy no. That’s the last thing my mother wanted. She wanted me to be a lady.”

  “A lady?”

  “Yes. Oh, not in the sense of highborn folks like the ladies you know, but a lady nonetheless. When I was a little girl she used to save every penny she could so on Sunday I could wear a dress with silk ribbons sewn on it. I mean, real silk, Bill. I don’t know how she afforded that. Anyway, she’d spend all Saturday night combing my hair, humming to herself, and then dress me up on Sunday morning to go to church. And she’d tell me, ‘Act like a lady, Susan. Always act like a lady, because someday you’re going to be a Lady. A beautiful lady. As good as any of them.’ And, you know what?

  Hanover shook his head.

  Susan laughed, “I almost became one.

  “I don’t know if you know this, but Portsmouth has a school. It’s called the Portsmouth Grammar School—it’s over on Penny Street—and they allow the children of Portsmouth—both boys and girls—to attend free. My mother made sure I attended. That’s where I learned to read, write, and do math; and that set me on a lifetime of reading. In fact, I’ll bet I can discuss the classics and the great works of literature as well as almost anyone you know. Anyway, I was well on my way to marrying the son of some rich merchant and becoming the lady my mother wanted me to be.”

  “So what happened?”

  Susan laughed again. “I met a gunner’s mate.

  “Oh, he was a rogue, all right. Flashing black eyes. Childlike smile. So handsome, he was; and I was so in love. My mother was crushed, of course, but I didn’t care. She eventually forgave me, but I was so stupid.

  “Anyway, I ran off with him. We never did get properly married. That’s why I reverted back to my maiden name, Whitney, after he died.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “We got into a dustup with a French frigate off Charleston. The Frenchie had surrendered but apparently, someone on the lower deck hadn’t gotten the word. Out of the blue, a gun went off back aft. The ball came crashing through our bulwark and caught my husband square in the back. Killed him instantly.

  “I was terrified that Captain Hudson would put me off the ship as soon as we got back to England, so I tried to make myself as useful as possible. Unfortunately—or fortunately—our ship’s surgeon was a drunk and I was able to become useful as a surgeon’s mate.

  “That’s where I was when the Richmond was captured and we were put ashore.”

  It was a sobering story for Hanover to hear and it put him deep in thought for the next few hours.

  The cart rambled on. It seemed like each turn in the road brought some fresh new experience. They were in a wild country, and neither Whitney, Smith, nor Hanover was quite prepared for it.

  The Brits in the group were used to the ordered farms and fields of England, and to seeing crops planted in almost every clearing with stone walls or hedges bordering them. What they found here were random clearings over-run with weeds, yet containing some of the richest soil they had ever seen—soil that had never felt a plow.

  By early afternoon they entered a huge virgin forest, something again none of them had ever seen, and again they were in awe. Yellow pine, white oak, walnut, and chestnut trees grew together so thick in places, that sunlight never reached the ground. They saw trees over 90 feet tall with branches spreading almost as wide, tree trunks 16 feet in diameter with limbs thick as a mans’ waist, branches that did not begin to reach out until they were 20 feet or more in the air.

  Even the calls of the birds were different, placing mystery, upon wonder, upon majesty. But the biggest surprise came just before getting to Gloucestertown.

  Susan was still sitting next to Hanover and Walker and Smith were in the back. The forest eventually ended and, while cresting a rise, Walker felt the wagon stop and heard Susan gasp, “My God.”

  Walker rolled to one side, peered over the wagon edge, and saw... daffodils. Not just dozens or even hundreds, but daffodils stretching as far as the eye could see. The land was covered in a sea of yellow flowers that waved and ri
ppled like the ocean in obedience to the wind.

  By mid-afternoon they reached the Town of Gloucester. By the standards of Richmond, Baltimore or even Yorktown, Gloucestertown wasn’t much; but it was different. Instead of having a square grid of streets running off of a town square, the Gloucester town “square” was an oval with a three foot high brick wall running around it’s perimeter.

  To the north and outside of the circle was the Gloucester Courthouse. Inside the oval were several houses and a debtor’s prison. To the south and across the street there was, of course, a tavern. They headed to the latter.