Infernal Revolutions (60 page)

‘All right,' said Sophie, reading my mind, ‘so it might not happen, but a plan is better than no plan, surely.'

‘I agree,' I said, ‘but I thought we already had a plan, of which this seems to be just a more grandiose version. But all this takes us off the point, which is, I do not want you to go into Trenton. It is a dangerous place, as I found out for myself. You have had no experience of battle, so there is a very high chance that you will be either killed or gruesomely injured there, and then where will our future lie? We have pushed our luck far enough already. Let us quit while we are ahead.'

Sophie stared at me for a few moments, took hold of my hand, and then came out with the answer I dreaded.

‘No, I am going, Harry. History in the making, and all that. But I will be back, do not worry. In the meantime, keep warm, and keep puking. On the way out I will get someone to bring you a soothing horse-dung posset. You will soon be well.'

And after bestowing a kiss on my head she was gone, slamming the door behind her. I was convinced I would not see her again. Even if she survived the battle, I fancied she would run off to pursue her dreams with some American rogue she was fighting alongside. I felt wretched and worthless, and soon all my old fears of loneliness and abandonment returned to torment me. Now melancholic as well as ill, there was nothing for it but to permit myself a good anguished pillow-drenching snivel, which I did with beneficial results. Somewhat soothed by this expedient, I lay still and listened to the cries of the sergeants as they prepared the troops for movement. Soon, the only human sounds left belonged to the guards, the camp followers and the sick, who, like mice with the cats away, began to joke, carouse and sing. I did not feel like joining them.

I spent the next twelve or so hours in a delirious state, as the full effects of my mental, physical, and emotional turmoil came to the surface. I shook, shivered, raved, ranted, sweated, puked, coughed, gasped, wheezed and shitted, until a strange calm came over me that I assumed was a prelude to death. Impelled by the need to reject worldly things, I managed to crawl to the bookshelf and retrieve a Bible which had been staring down at me ever since I first arrived. Opening it at random while I dined on the very Biblical dish of bread and wine that had been left by my bed, I let its lovely phrases flow into my soul, and comfort me. Strangely though, as I read of the Battle of Jericho, I fancied I heard tiny voices and the boom of tiny cannon coming off the pages like an accompaniment – a sure sign that Heaven was close. Next, certain of my insanity yet perfectly unruffled, I turned to my favourite book, the Book of Ecclesiastes, and chuckled sadly at the vanity of human life portrayed therein. I was still chuckling when I became aware that the voices of the guards had been supplemented by other, newer voices, raised in some excitement. They continued to get louder until I could no longer concentrate on either Ecclesiastes or dying, and had to get out of bed to investigate. Tottering to the window I peeped out and saw men returning to their campfires, looking haggard yet strangely content, as if they had wrestled a lion to the ground and only lost a few fingers. Now and again cries of jubilation filled the air, and I realized belatedly that this was the return of the men who had fought at Trenton.

‘You should have been there, Thomas. We murdered ‘em! They could not cope with our fire.'

‘We killed hundreds of them, including Rall, their commander; they did not kill one of us!'

‘Aye, and we took a thousand prisoners and six cannon, not to mention the piles of arms and ammunition we found in their wagons.'

‘Don't forget all those regimental flags we captured, John; my God, did they not like that!'

‘Twas obvious now that our house would be a furnished one, and I felt a glow of pride for my dubious art, if not for my dubious self. Saving death for another day, I returned the Bible to the bookshelf, and wondered if I would have anyone to share the house with. The answer did not come for another two hours, when the door was unlocked and Sophie appeared, face blackened with the smoke of battle.

‘My dear!' I exclaimed. ‘You are still alive!'

‘And so are you,' said Sophie, coming forward to embrace me. ‘We both live to fight another day!'

‘Well,' I said, as we sat down on the edge of the bed, ‘was the battle experience all you hoped it would be?'

Such was the glazed look in her eye that I thought she had seen horrors too terrible to describe. I hoped she had, so that she would not go off again.

‘Oh yes, Harry, and more. ‘Twas marvellous. The excitement, the comradeship, the laughs. You should have seen the dogs run!'

‘No fear then?' I said, with great disappointment.

‘Aye, a little. But is not fear the same as excitement?'

‘Similar, I suppose. So what happened?'

‘Well, we crossed the river in those boats we came over on – Durham Boats they are called, I don't know why – then split into two columns at Birmingham so as to approach Trenton from both the north and the west. The girls and I were in General Greene's force attacking from the north.' Sophie tossed her hair back, proud. ‘At about eight o'clock in the morning we reached the town and began firing straight away. The Hessians quickly turned out in their formations, but our artillery and musket fire down the length of King and Queen Streets soon broke them. Then we charged down those streets towards the enemy batteries. Some Hessians of the Knyphausen Regiment escaped south across the Assumpink Creek, but most were caught in the houses, where we soon had them encircled.' Sophie licked her lips at the memory. ‘Like picking off rats, it was, Harry. Oh, and we killed General Rall in the process, shot him off his horse in an orchard. That was it then really; battle over by half past nine in the morning. Washington, ‘twas said, wanted to go on and attack Princeton and Brunswick, but we had taken too many prisoners and we were all too tired. Besides, enemy reinforcements were nearby and we had no means of getting supplies across the Delaware.'

Sophie stopped her breathless narrative and went misty-eyed, no doubt reliving it all in her memory. For my part, I felt no satisfaction in the death of Rall and the others. Indeed, I was almost saddened: even foul-mouthed bully boys were necessary to life, otherwise God would not have created them. I could not help asking Sophie if she had killed anyone.

‘Not knowingly,' she replied brightly, ‘though I did fire a few balls in the general direction of the Hessians, until the damp got into my musket and I could not use it any more. That happened to lots of the muskets, both ours and theirs, so ‘twas mainly a battle of artillery, bayonet and sword. When I could fire no more I helped in the reloading of the cannon.'

‘So,' I said, sufficiently informed about the battle for my needs, ‘now we have both discharged our duties to the American cause, presumably we are free to make our way to Philadelphia, and there await the benison from Congress, as authorized by Washington.'

‘Yes, we will be when the General gets round to releasing you, but he has many other things on his plate at the moment as I am sure you can appreciate. Anyway, I do not want to leave before the General holds his dinner tomorrow night for the captured Hessian officers. The girls and I have been invited, you see.'

‘Oh, have you?' I said sourly. ‘Solely on the basis of your fighting ability, I hope.'

Sophie gave me an icy glare.

‘Yes, Harry, solely on that basis.'

‘Have I been invited?'

‘You are ill, you said so yourself. Besides, your position is different. The men still think you are a British spy; indeed, I have had to bite my lip many times when overhearing some of the things they have been saying about you.'

‘Aye,' I answered peevishly, ‘I know well enough my status in this camp, which is why I am not going to hang around to be hanged. As soon as I have my strength back I am going straight to Philadelphia, with or without you.'

‘But you won't have your strength back before I have attended the dinner, so what is the problem? You may as well stay here safe and secure in the meantime. As soon as you are well enough, I will obtain your release from Washington and we will set off for Philadelphia. Together.'

This, I supposed, was logical enough, and I poutingly agreed to this further social humiliation. I would continue to play the political prisoner, and Sophie would continue to play the Revolutionary veteran, though ‘twas clear Sophie enjoyed her role far more than I did mine. Indeed, after an hour of strained and desultory conversation about our new life together in Philadelphia – if and when the Americans won the war – she seemed keen to get back to her newfound friends, doubtless to talk more about their shared experience of battle. So, not wanting to hinder her, I pleaded tiredness and bade her leave. At least, I thought to myself, reaching despondently for one of the few books in the library that I had not read, Sophie's infatuation with all things military would soon be over, and then my own ambitions would come more to the fore. However, in this, as in many other things, I was entirely wrong. Four days later, when I was beginning to suspect that Sophie was conniving with Washington to keep me ill and imprisoned forever, a bolt came from out of the morning blue.

‘Harry, you know that the men's enlistments expire tomorrow.'

‘Aye, what of it.'

‘Well, General Washington has offered a bounty of ten dollars to all those who will extend their term of service by six weeks. He has further attacks in mind: at least one more on Trenton, which has been reinforced by the British, then probably one on Princeton. I want to go with him.'

‘What!' I spluttered, ‘But you said….'

‘Aye, I know what I said, but I need to experience the thrill of battle one more time. All the wildness will be out of my system then. As soon as it is over I will settle down to make you a good dutiful wife. I promise.'

I shook my head in disbelief.

‘Why, you could even come with me, you know, now that you are not so ill.'

The cheek of the woman was outrageous and getting worse.

‘'Tis one thing shooting at Hessians; quite another shooting at one's own countrymen. No, I will not come with you, I say.'

‘Then where will you wait for me, here or in Philadelphia?'

‘I do not know,' I said, exasperated. ‘Look, just go, if that is what you want to do. We will meet up again somewhere, be assured of it.'

Sophie gave me a rueful look.

‘There is no-one else, you know, Harry, if that is what is making you so angry.'

‘Is there not? That is good, then. Well, good luck, and I hope the battle goes well.'

‘You really are a preposterous booby, Sir. I thought your blessing would have been given with better grace. I am your wife after all.'

‘And I am your husband after all. Decisions are supposed to be reached mutually.'

‘They will be, after this one.'

‘That is good, then.'

‘Ach!' exclaimed Sophie with sudden temper. ‘I am going! Goodbye.'

There followed the usual troop movements, the usual partings, the usual sense of loneliness. What was not usual, however, were the words the guard addressed to me as soon as everyone had gone.

‘Right you, out! You have been lying around here long enough. The General has ordered your release.'

‘Very well,' I blustered, after a pause in which I wondered whether I should ask for some confirmation in writing of this surprise development, ‘I was just about to leave anyway. Please be so good as to advise me the best way to Philadelphia.'

‘You impudent dog, you are going nowhere. Instead, you are going to help us administer succour to the sick in the camp, and be happy doing it.'

No-one can
make
me be happy doing it, I felt like remonstrating, as I suffered the indignity of being frogmarched down to a large kitchen, there to be introduced to my new employers.

‘Greetings, Brother!' laughed one of them, a blood-spattered man with an equally blood-splattered cleaver. ‘What a privilege to have Mr Turncoat in our midst at last.'

I groaned, knowing I had no alternative but to knuckle down to what was sure to be a grim if temporary life of horror. Uncertain at first as to whether I was addressing doctors or cooks, the position was soon clarified; they were doctors, and I had to accompany them around the rooms where men lay in various stages of agony. My duties consisted mainly of the serving of food and drink, and the removal of fouled clothes, chamberpots and lopped limbs, but on one occasion I had to assist in the dreaded act of amputation itself. Passing out the moment the screaming started, I thought nothing in the world could be so horrible – until an hour later I got the call to take up a repast to ‘Mr Axelrod, Gentleman.'

‘Oh no, I don't think I can do that,' I demurred, handing the enormous tray back. ‘No, not I. I don't think you understand the relationship between us. Cannot someone else go?'

‘You will do what you are bloody well told, Spy Boy,' said the man, thrusting the tray back into my hands, ‘ Now get up there and get up there fast. The man does not like to be kept waiting.'

Having no choice in the matter I took the tray again, which was piled high with food and wine of the finest quality, and staggered upstairs. Though I dreaded the renewal of our acquaintanceship – with all the opportunities it gave him to mount a counterattack, if only of a verbal nature – I hurried on, wanting to get the ordeal over with as soon as possible. His room was not hard to find, for at its entrance there was a disorderly queue of women exchanging coarse banter with the guards, who were going along the corridor collecting money from them. I went up to one of these guards and offered the dishes for his inspection. Expecting him to spit into them, as I'm sure the guards did into mine in the later stages of my imprisonment, he merely bemoaned the fact that the potatoes did not appear to be cooked as Burnley liked them. Being waved towards the door nonetheless, I hoisted the tray over my head and tried to squeeze past the excited women blocking my path. The trouble was, they had seen me coming, and deliberately made my passage more difficult by rubbing their bodies against me in a most lascivious manner, and making suggestions of gross indecency. ‘Twas all I could do to keep the tray horizontal, so that I was glad when I reached the next guard, who unlocked the door and let me in. Though a sudden surge of women tried to get in with me, and had to be fought back, I eventually popped into the room alone, and left the screams of ecstasy behind me.

‘Aaah,' came a familiar voice from the direction of the bed. ‘Come to learn the rudiments of brag, Mr Oysterman?'

At first I could not see Burnley, for my eyes were naturally attracted to the two naked women on his bed. Kneeling on all fours, they were giggling and setting their pendulous dumplings awobble in the process, a staggering sight to any man. Then a pair of hands emerged to part the danglers, and Burnley's eyes appeared in the gap.

‘I thought you would have gone to Trenton with your new masters; but, thinking about it, I suppose you could not resist serving your old master first.'

‘I cannot serve my old master,' I replied, regaining some composure, and laying the rattling tray down on the nearest table, ‘for Alexander Pope died in 1744.'

Burnley laughed.

‘Still keeping up the Man Of Letters charade, Oysterman? Good man. Always keep true to the dreams of thy youth. I did, and look at me.'

Gratuitously, he stuck his tongue out and licked each of the four nipples in turn. Then he slapped the girls firmly on the buttocks, and told them to get dressed and get out.