Chesapeake (74 page)

Accordingly, he did not accept the bench offered by the major; instead he carried his canvas bag out to the wash house, where he soaped down, combed, touched himself with perfume and donned fresh clothes. When he was finished he presented the fine figure of a fifty-nine-year-old patriot eager to serve in whatever capacity the new President might determine.

Washington did not arise till about six-thirty in the evening, at which time Major Lee informed him that the Choptank men had arrived. Without attending to his dress, Washington hurried from his sleeping quarters, saw Steed standing at attention and acknowledged him briefly, then spotted Levin Paxmore, the shipbuilder, and hurried to him. Grasping his fire-scarred hands, Washington said, ‘What sturdy ships you build.’

‘Four of them ended fighting for the English.’

‘Ah, but the
Whisper
that fought for us helped determine the battle. Keep your hat, Friend Paxmore. You’ve earned the privilege.’

He then spotted Captain Turlock and stood before him admiringly, hands on hips, unable to speak. Finally he grasped the waterman by the shoulders, pressed them vigorously and said, ‘I confess a special fondness for brave men,’ and he began to recite some of the adventures Turlock had experienced. ‘They almost trapped you at St. Eustatius, didn’t they?’

‘They did get my sister ship. That was a sore defeat.’

‘We’ve all had them,’ Washington said. ‘You should be an admiral, sir.’

‘I can’t read or write,’ Turlock replied.

Washington laughed and asked, ‘What do you plan to do now?’

‘A little fishin’,’ Turlock said, and Washington guffawed.

‘Major Lee!’ he called in a resounding voice. ‘Take note of this man, and note him well. The only one in America who doesn’t seek an appointment.’ He laughed again, then bowed deeply, adding, ‘You were most helpful, Captain.’

Then he returned to Colonel Steed, saying heartily, ‘Damned glad you overtook us, Steed. I am most hungry for some cards.’ And he led the way to a small room which Major Lee had arranged for this night. It contained a table, six chairs, two lamps on high stands and three spittoons. Two planters from the Warwick area had been waiting since five and were eager for the game to start. A Colonel Witherspoon who was riding with Washington took a chair, but when the general and Steed sat down, there remained one empty space.

‘I do like six to a game,’ Washington said. ‘Friend Paxmore, would you take a hand?’

‘I would not,’ the Quaker said.

‘How about Major Lee?’ Steed asked.

‘I will not allow him to lose any further,’ Washington said. Colonel Witherspoon pointed at Captain Turlock. ‘Do you play?’

‘Some.’

‘Sit down,’ and Turlock took the sixth chair. When the first hand was dealt he looked at his cards and muttered, ‘Jesus Christ!’ Washington stopped arranging his cards and stared at the swamp man, and Colonel Witherspoon said reprovingly, ‘We don’t use oaths, Captain Turlock.’

‘You would if you saw these cards,’ Turlock replied, and Washington smiled.

After the third hand the general said graciously, ‘Steed, I am gratified to an extent I cannot express that you have seen fit to visit with us. One of my first tasks in New York will be to ask the Congress to recompense you for your lost ships.’

‘I would be grateful,’ Steed said, and then he waited, knowing that this
was the moment in which the new President ought to say something about an assignment in the forthcoming government, but nothing was said, and Turlock ruptured the spell by grunting, ‘Your deal, General.’

As midnight approached, Major Lee led Levin Paxmore out of the house and onto the roadway, where they talked for some hours, while the locals sat along the road, watching the house where their beloved hero was meeting in high consultation with the leaders of the region. ‘Gad, how I’d love to be in that game,’ Lee confessed.

‘Thee likes cards so much?’

‘I’m a fanatic, but I seem always to lose, and the general’s forbidden me to play.’ They walked along the dark road for some minutes, then Lee said, ‘Of course, he always loses too. But he says the difference is he can afford it.’

‘Does he play so much?’

‘Before the war, almost every night. He kept an account book of each night’s play, and it shows that he lost heavily. During the war I never saw him play but once. During the cold days at Valley Forge. And of course he lost. He’ll lose tonight, you can be sure of that, and I’ll enter it in the book.
Chestertown, lost three pounds, sixteen shillings, nine pence.’

‘This is Warwick.’

‘They all seem the same. We approach the towns. The people storm out. They drown him with adulation. This land has never seen a hero like Washington, nor will again.’

‘Is he so fine?’ Paxmore asked.

‘You saw him. Six feet four. He towers above ordinary men.’

‘I mean morally.’

‘He puzzles me,’ Lee confessed. ‘He places his whole destiny in the hands of God, serves Him with devotion. But like a soldier, not a puling clergyman.’ In the darkness Major Lee permitted silence to indicate his confusion.

‘Will he make a good President?’

‘The finest. No man could prove his equal. He stands alone, a monument to integrity.’ Another pause and then, ‘But there are contradictions. You know, of course, that he gained enormous approval by his refusal to accept any salary as general of the colonial armies. That’s right, never accepted a shilling of pay. Said over and over that a patriot should serve his country in time of danger and pay no heed to the cost.’

‘That was admirable,’ Paxmore said, but he did not point out that in the dark days of the war he had built three ships for the Continental navy, in addition to those for Steed, and that since the revolutionaries had had no funds, he had borne most of the cost himself. Also, his boatyard had been burned and his best workmen conscripted into the army.

Even had he enjoyed cards, he would not have dared to play this night, for the war had left him largely impoverished; but to learn that General Washington had also served without pay was heartening. But then Major Lee added, ‘What Washington did was refuse a salary but demand an expense account. I helped him make it out, and he listed everything—his son’s expenses, wine for the mess, a carriage for himself and four more carriages for his friends, rations, guns, braid for his jackets, axes for the woods. Thinking back on those accounts, they were extraordinary.’

‘I could make out such an account for my shipyard,’ Paxmore said, ‘and would do so, if asked.’

‘Yes,’ Lee conceded. ‘Each item submitted was an honest figure. But whether some of them should have been submitted remains dubious. All I know is that when there was talk of Washington’s becoming President, he again volunteered to serve without pay—just expenses. And the committee told him with some firmness, “Oh no, sir! This time you must accept a salary!” They told me later, “No new nation could survive another of his damned expense accounts.”’

They now turned and walked back down the road past the house where the players were intent on their cards. They could see General Washington studying with some disgust a hand which Captain Turlock had just dealt, and Paxmore asked, ‘Is he capable of governing? I mean, soldiers are sometimes both obstinate and deficient in knowledge.’

‘He’s not read much,’ Lee confided. ‘I rarely see him with a book. He’s certainly no Adams or Jefferson, but maybe they read too much.’

Up and down the silent road they walked, touching upon all aspects of the new position that Washington was moving into: the military appointments, the finances, the judgeships, the building up of a merchant navy, the admission of new states carved out of the western lands, the entire gamut of government—while the general continued playing cards.

‘I never knew my father,’ Lee confided toward two in the morning. ‘So perhaps my good opinion of the general is weighted in his favor. But I’ve served with him since I was a boy in 1774, and no finer man ever walked on the soil of this continent. He may not prove to be a capable President, but he’ll be a just one. And he’ll provide a symbol, stronger and brighter every year.’

He reflected on this, and after they had passed the cardplayers again he said, ‘At the meetings related to the revolution we had many fine orators, and I heard most of them. I never heard a finer intellect than that stubby little lawyer from Philadelphia, James Wilson. Ben Franklin could make a point, too, and John Adams could be devastating. But the best speech I ever heard was given by George Washington, who never said much.

‘It was in 1774, I think, when the British were bombarding Boston and
we in the south didn’t know how to respond. That day the oratory contained much fire and more confusion, but when everything seemed to be lost in chaos, Washington—I think he was only a colonel then …’ He hesitated. ‘Virginia militia, it must have been.

‘Anyway, when it seemed that we must allow Boston to fight alone, this man stood up and spoke one sentence. Just one sentence, and when he sat down the whole history of the colonies was changed.’

‘What did he say?’

‘“Gentlemen, I will raise one thousand men, outfit and pay them at my own expense, and march myself at their head for the relief of Boston.”’

Paxmore said, ‘I think I need sleep. I shall be going inside.’

Major Lee said, ‘I’ll keep guard out here.’

When Paxmore entered the gaming room it was half after three and Teach Turlock had only a few shillings on the table. ‘If you president as well as you play cards,’ he said admiringly to Washington, ‘this country will be all right.’

Turlock lost that hand and decided to quit the game. ‘Come on, Friend Paxmore,’ he said, ‘we’ll catch some sleep.’ And he lay down on the floor outside the door while the Quaker made his way to a back room where a dozen men were stretched out.

Now came the part that General Washington enjoyed most. It was four in the morning, deadly quiet in all parts of the night except in this room where the candles flickered. The game was down to just four players, one of the local landowners having dropped out, and each surviving player knew the established peculiarities of the others. Simon Steed played an absolutely straightforward game, no bluff. Colonel Witherspoon played for every advantage, studied each card, each adversary with minute attention and won more than his share of hands. The planter was a good player, willing to take extraordinary risks if he detected even a slight edge in his favor. And General Washington was proving himself to be what he always had been: a cautious, stubborn defender of his shillings, a niggardly man when it came to betting, a daring man when he saw a chance to win a big pot, but so transparent in his positions that he was destined always to lose if the game continued long enough.

‘Your majesty,’ Steed said at five in the morning, ‘I think I have the better of you.’

‘I do not take kindly to that appellation,’ Washington replied, holding his losing cards close to his sweaty shirt.

‘Sire, this country yearns for royal trappings,’ Steed insisted.

‘I prefer mister.’

‘The people will not permit it. Believe me, Sire, we Americans may have thrown out one set of royalty, but we are most hungry to adopt another … a better, that is. And you’re that better.’

Washington tapped his chin with his cards. ‘Others have said what you
say, Steed, and there’s much common sense in what you advise. It may well be that in the end we shall have to have a royalty. But in this game you must not address a man as Sire when you intend to cut his throat. What cards are you hiding against me, Steed of Devon?’

The game broke up at a quarter to six. Major Lee, hearing the commotion, came to the door of the room to announce, ‘The horses are ready, sir.’

‘We’d better be on our way to Wilmington,’ Washington replied. ‘Shall we take thirty minutes to wash up, Witherspoon?’

‘Did you lose again?’ Lee asked impishly.

‘You can mark me down in the book,’ Washington replied, ‘as having lost two pounds, twelve and three.’

‘Warwick has proved costly,’ Lee said.

‘It was worth it to meet once more my comrade in arms at Yorktown,’ Washington said, throwing his long right arm about Steed’s shoulder, and with that, he retired to the washhouse. There would be no confidential talk of government position, but Washington was not an unfeeling man and when he returned from his toilet and saw the bleak look on Steed’s face, he went to him, took him by the hand and said bluntly, ‘My dear friend, I would give an arm to have you at my side.’ He paused. ‘But the scandals. Impossible. Impossible.’ And he marched to the horses.

But before he reached them he was stopped by Teach Turlock, who produced from a filthy bag a paper which he had cherished since 1776; it was the Rector of Wrentham’s cession of Turlock’s hundred acres. ‘Please, General Washington, restore my land.’

The President studied the paper, asked Turlock and Steed a few questions, then called for Major Lee to bring him a quill. Sitting on a bench at the door to the farmhouse he added this endorsement to the precious document:

In the roadway a throng of hundreds waited to applaud their hero, and in his red-and-blue riding coat he made a handsome figure, bowing gravely right and left. Major Lee provided a small stool to help him mount, and when he sat astride his large chestnut, he looked more noble than ever.

‘Great wishes, Sire,’ Steed called, tears beginning to form.

‘We shall face difficult tasks, all of us,’ Washington said as he rode off, attended by cheers that would not cease till he reached New York.

The three Choptank men, without having consulted one another, mounted their horses and followed for some miles as if drawn by a powerful magnet. When the time came to turn back, Major Lee rode up to bid them farewell. To Steed he said, ‘The general asked me to say that you will have access to him as long as you both shall live. He prizes you as one of the true servants of this nation.’