Infernal Revolutions (59 page)

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 General 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.'

I swayed a little, as Jesus must have done that day in the desert when Satan offered him all the world, but I held on bravely.

‘I fear you look on the bright side too much, my dear. Your enthusiasm runs away with you. The people in power here, as in England, will always come from rich, established families, despite all the noises made to the contrary.'

‘Then let us establish a rich family. For those of lesser means, like us, I have heard that the study and practice of law is the way to start. We can sell the house that Washington gives you and use the money to get you trained in the art – though what a consummate liar like you can be taught I don't know. Then let me see…you could have your own practice by thirty…be engaged in local politics by thirty-five…and by the age of forty you can be embarking on a life on the public stage. I can pop out a baby every year, so that by the time we are fifty they will be fully grown and we can marry them off to the scions of rich Virginian families, thereby cementing our burgeoning business contacts. These family ties will then ensure that we establish a political dynasty that will go down through the generations to Doomsday. Just imagine, Harry, the Oysterman dynasty of America! We are still young, we can do it; why not try?'

I groaned inwardly. All this was anathema to me, and a vile way to live life. Where Sophie saw glamour, all I saw was backbiting, aggression, ambition, duels, envy, adultery, and mountain ranges of paperwork. I feared I would never have time to read a poem again, let alone write one. Indeed, a sort of negative vision flashed before me of all the things I would not see and do: the sunsets unadmired, the books unread, the sleep unslept, the animals unpetted. I had, once again, to admit to myself that I was not ambitious in any sphere other than poesy.