For Love of Country (7 page)

Katherine waited while Richard got up to drop another log into the flames. When he was beside her again, she said, “I'm mostly through a letter I'm writing to Jeremy. You can read it if you like. Perhaps he can help us.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, he's a ranking post captain in the Royal Navy. Hugh tells me he's one of the most respected officers in the Mediterranean Squadron. For another, he often goes out on patrol along the Barbary Coast. Perhaps he has seen something there or has contacts that might prove useful.”

Richard did not respond right away. An idea had struck him as Katherine spoke about her brother, and he needed time to think it through. He sat concentrating on the fire, weighing both her words and the possibilities they engendered. When he responded, he kept his tone conversational: “It's worth a try. Please send Jeremy my regards. Tell him I look forward to meeting him someday. Now, tell me about Hugh. What word from him? Is he still in England?”

“He is. ‘Sitting on the beach,' as he puts it, though a beach is hardly where he wants to be. Until he's assigned a ship, he's living on half pay at home with our parents in Fareham. His last letter mentioned the possibility of service on the North American Station. Wouldn't that be a treat for us all? Halifax is just up the coast and . . .” She narrowed her eyes. “Richard, what are you thinking?”

He gave her a startled look. “Nothing.”

“Yes you are, and I want to know what.”

“I wasn't thinking anything,” he insisted.

“Not true, my love. I'm married to you, remember? You're onto something.”

“It's nothing. A passing fancy.” He inclined his head toward their sons standing watch by the window. “Shouldn't you be getting supper ready?” he asked innocently. At the back of his mind he was already framing the contents of yet another letter he would write tomorrow to Alexander Hamilton in Philadelphia.

 

WITH THE MELTING of the snow, the mood of the Cutler family took a turn for the better. Reports from Philadelphia confirmed that every state had sent its full contingent of delegates to the National Convention. This was important, Thomas Cutler explained to those who would listen, for that gave the convention the legitimacy it required to rule on the critical issues that would decide America's future. Further, it was reported by the press that the northern-dominated Federalist Party led by Hamilton, Jay, and Adams was gaining political ground against the Jeffersonian Republicans, southerners, mostly, who clung with an almost religious tenacity to the principle of states' rights. Such
individuals viewed any form of shared sovereignty as anathema. Under no circumstances, they insisted, should the integrity of the individual states be compromised by a national government, whatever its form; that was the core principle for which the war with England had been fought. Hamilton countered with his oft-quoted conviction that independence backed by a weak military is nothing more than an empty promise.

As Americans awaited the outcome of the debates, William and Lizzy Cutler arrived unexpectedly early in Boston after a swift passage of just eighteen days, the result of steady southerly breezes more typical of Caribbean trades than the perverse westerly winds that normally blew upon the Atlantic in springtime. Soon after the Cutler brig docked at Long Wharf, a flustered George Hunt walked out from the offices of Cutler & Sons and bowed low before William Cutler, apologizing profusely for being caught unawares.

William Cutler put a hand under Hunt's elbow and bade him look up. “There is no need for that, Mr. Hunt,” he said with a chuckle. “This is America. No one bows to anyone here.” He placed his hand at the small of Lizzy's back. “Unless, perhaps, to a lovely young woman. Mr. Hunt, may I introduce you to my daughter, Elizabeth.”

“Ma'am,” Hunt said humbly, bowing again and avoiding her eyes as though dazzled by the image of golden hair and delicate feminine splendor standing before him in an ankle-length dress of rich brocade with a richly decorated silk shawl draped across her narrow shoulders. He did manage to collect himself when Lizzy swept him a brief curtsey. “I am honored to meet you, Mr. Hunt,” she said. “We have often heard your praises sung in England.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Hunt said, adding in a stab at gallantry, “and I have often heard tell of your lady's grace and beauty. Now I understand why.” He turned to her father. “Sir, I shall have a boat ready to take you to Hingham within the hour. Please make yourself comfortable in our offices. I shall have tea or coffee brought in, some food, perhaps, whatever you and Miss Cutler might fancy.”

“That is kind of you, Mr. Hunt. But I think my daughter and I would prefer to explore your city while we wait.” He pointed his cane up State Street to where a gold-domed cupola rose above a substantial red brick building with a prominent balcony built halfway up its east side. “Is that what is now called the State House? Yes? Then it's what we English used to refer to as the seat of royal authority in Boston. Pity it still isn't.” He gave Hunt a jovial wink. “Back in an hour,” he called
over his shoulder. He offered his arm to his daughter, and the two set off at a brisk pace.

Hunt immediately set about to find a small, swift vessel to carry word of the Cutlers' arrival to Hingham, and a larger, more accommodating one to convey them there.

 

“LIZZY! YOU'RE HERE! You're really
here
!”

Thunder rumbled in the distance and seagulls mewed and circled overhead as Katherine and Lizzy Cutler flew together in a tight embrace on the Hingham quays, their inbred propriety and correct upbringing cast joyously aside in the exhilaration of seeing each other after so many years. It was the same for them all. William Cutler had not seen his brother since Thomas and his wife sailed for America many years earlier. Nor had he met any member of his brother's family here today except Richard, who had visited William Cutler's family in Fareham in 1774 and had lived with him in 1778 after William had pulled every string in his grasp to get his nephew released from Old Mill Prison and into his custody. He was particularly intrigued by his grand-nephews and took great joy in gripping little Jamie firmly at the waist and lifting him high in the air as the boy screeched with delight. “A fine specimen,” he announced, setting Jamie down on the ground and gravely offering a serious-looking Will his hand to shake. It was an unguardedly joyful reunion. People passing by on Broad Cove Lane smiled at the Cutlers and at each other, caught up in the family's happiness.

“You look a fright, Tom,” William announced with a twinkle in his eye. “A good deal less hair, more girth around the middle, a peg-leg limp, skin that looks more dead than alive—my God, you poor bloke, you look just like me!” They laughed together before William asked, his brow creasing with concern, “How is Elizabeth? You wrote that she isn't in the best of health.”

“Much better now. Anne's wedding gave her a lift. And the warmer weather helps. But what really made the difference was the anticipation of you and Lizzy coming to Hingham. It's just what the doctor ordered.”

“Glad to be of service,” his brother replied. “I must say, I look forward to getting to know her. You two were newlyweds when you sailed for America.”

They watched as Lizzy and Katherine wiped away tears, each giggling at the other caught up in the overflow of powerful emotions. Richard
laughed along with them, delighted to be once again in the company of people he held so dear.

Only young Will appeared standoffish. Like many boys his age, he regarded shows of personal affection as girlish spectacles to be avoided at all costs. He leaned against a tree with his hands in his pockets, attempting to appear aloof. “Pappy, shouldn't we be getting home?” he said at length. “Father says we should. It's about to rain.” As if on cue, there came a louder, closer clap of thunder.

“We shall hop to it, Your Grace,” his grandfather said, saluting in a Royal Army fashion that always made Will giggle. He turned toward his brother. “Sir William, pray have yon squire draw up the prince's chariots and we shall be on our way.”

 

 

A CUTLER FAMILY gathering had to await the arrival of Richard's sisters and was set for the following week. The few days' respite suited everyone, the weight of family issues to be discussed notwithstanding, for the older Cutlers had half a lifetime to catch up on, and Lizzy was eager to lavish affection on her best friend's children. In due course, Stephen and Lavinia Starbuck arrived from Duxbury, though Anne Seymour traveled alone by carriage from Cambridge. Frederick sent his regrets, she announced, but was too busy to take leave of his budding medical practice.

The next day, the family's mood turned somber as they gathered in the parlor of the Cutler home on Main Street. The weather had turned surprisingly cool for late May, and a thick mist hid the sun, adding to the solemnity. Everyone took a seat, the matriarch Elizabeth beside the hearth where a fire popped and crackled, the others flanked out in a wide semicircle around William and Thomas Cutler holding court in the center. Upstairs, in what used to be Richard and Caleb's room and was now occupied by William Cutler, Will and Jamie played war games on the floor under the attentive eye of Edna Stowe, the family housekeeper.

Thomas Cutler led off. “I suggest we postpone discussion of Caleb's release for the moment, though of course that is the most important reason we are here today. Richard has something to say on the subject that I think you will find compelling. Let us first review the state of our business. This is not a separate issue, as you will soon come to realize. It is closely linked to our efforts to free Caleb and the rest of
Eagle
's crew.”
He turned to his son. “Richard, you were the last to be on Barbados. Might I ask you to recount for us your observations there?”

Richard was prepared for that question. The previous afternoon he had reviewed today's agenda with his father and uncle. He didn't have to relate much about his voyage to the Indies; everyone present realized what was at stake there and the ramifications of the threat posed by Captain Horatio Nelson. The question was, how should the Cutler family respond to that threat? Richard deferred the answer to his uncle.

“Our original assumption,” William picked up the thread, “was that there was no substance to any of this. As Richard pointed out, there is considerable opposition to the Navigation Acts in every British colony and at every level of society. So we chose to do nothing and wait for the storm clouds to blow over, so to speak. Alas, we were wrong. It seems clear, in retrospect, that the Royal Navy intends to follow the letter of the law on this matter, whatever the consequences. Captain Nelson is even now carrying out his threat. There are more British agents on Barbados than ever before, and we are being closely watched in England as well.”

“Our own country is spying on us,” Lizzy said to Katherine, “waiting for us to make a wrong step. And this despite the frightful taxes we are forced to pay each year.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Cutler,” Stephen Starbuck broke in. He stood out among the others by the simplicity of the clothes he wore: a plain-cut white shirt, no waistcoat or neck stock, and a drab pair of black trousers and thick cloth shoes that nonetheless were his Sunday best. He was not a Quaker, although he looked like one. He often reminded Richard of Benjamin Franklin in Paris during the war. Not only was Starbuck as comfortably indifferent to current fashions as Franklin was, he possessed the same acuity of mind that allowed him to fly like an arrow to the heart of a matter. “Exactly what do the British expect to gain from the Acts? Liv has told me some of what Richard just explained, but I don't understand their purpose.”

“You are not alone in asking that question, Stephen,” William said. “It's the old way of doing things: colonies sending raw materials only to the mother country, and the mother country sending manufactured goods only to her colonies. Everyone else is excluded from this internal financial scheme, even, at times”—he pointed to himself—“a country's own citizens. Of course, for such a system to work properly, a country must have a considerable number of overseas possessions capable of producing raw materials. Which England does, of course. As an English
citizen I strongly disagree with this policy. I favor free trade because free trade serves everyone, from the Exchequer on down. But the concept of free trade is anathema to the Old Guard, who see it as a threat to the natural order of things and therefore to the country's financial stability. Does this explanation help?”

Stephen nodded.

“Good. Now then,” William continued, “since American merchants are denied access to British-held islands, we—meaning the Cutler family in England—are forced to purchase or hire British-built ships and man them with British sailors—or at least sailors who we can demonstrate are not American. As long as the Navigation Acts remain in force, we will ship our goods directly from Bridgetown to Britain and her possessions, and on to Europe, while Cutler and Sons in Boston will continue to service our North American customers. To accomplish the latter, we must arrange to transfer cargoes at sea after they leave Barbados. I suggest the islands of the Bahamas as the site for such transfers. There are too many of them for the Royal Navy to patrol effectively, and the navy is known to turn a blind eye to what goes on there.”

“So we are reduced to smuggling,” Anne muttered.

“You can look at it that way,” her uncle answered her. “Captain Nelson certainly does. Your father and I, however, prefer to think of it as being forced to find more expedient methods of doing business. The bad news—and it
is
bad news—is that the added expense of obtaining non-American ships and crews is putting a considerable strain on our earnings, as you no doubt noted when you received your recent distributions. Call it what you will, we have no choice. We must serve the customers we have to the best of our ability, while at the same time seeking out new customers in new markets that have no trade constraints.”