“Yes. They are more than capable, Victor. In fact, I would say they are quite a bit more capable than the Anderson twins. They took off in a rowboat with a sail and the Beards went to help them out.”
“A rowboat? The girls?” Victor said, totally stunned. He couldn’t even row a boat. He had turned his canoe over at Boy Scout camp and said goodbye to a merit badge and his dream of becoming an Eagle Scout.
“Perhaps they swam, Victor. Fort Mifflin is on the Delaware River, about a mile from Philadelphia.
“The river? A rowboat?” Victor said, still amazed. Then he asked: “Where is Mrs. Ross?”
“She took my glasses frames to be fixed. Some silversmith down the street. The frames were so bent my glasses wouldn’t stay on my nose.”
“Not Paul Revere?”
“No, Victor. Revere is in Boston. He’s not a delegate. Blame that ride legend on Longfellow, the poet, and his ‘listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere’—heck, he was arrested. William Dawes was the clarion who actually completed the ride, but imagine Longfellow writing ‘listen my children and you shall hear…of the midnight ride of William Dawes. Great book,
Paul Revere’s Ride
, you should read it sometime.”
This is no time to digress, Mr. Greene, Victor thought, no time for one of your strolls down a trivia trail that might be interesting in the classroom. They were
living
history, he thought, and no story, no matter how interesting, could take the place of actually being there. Those aren’t my words, Victor thought, they are Mr. Greene’s own words, his own rationale for the field trips to the past. The old man was right.
The bell above the front door to the shop rang out and Victor peeked around a doorway to see who had entered the room.
“Benjamin Franklin,” he whispered to Mr. Greene.
“What?” Mr. Greene said. Managing to stand, he winced and hobbled to a Queen Anne chair a few feet away. “I think my ankle is sprained, Victor,” he said. “I can’t walk.”
Oh brother, Victor thought. What next? He was beginning to get worried about getting back to Cassadaga Area High School and the good old 21
st
century. What could he do in the 18
th
century? He doubted fly catching was a trade?
Mrs. Ross came into the room ahead of Franklin, as if she were to introduce him.
Benjamin Franklin, upon seeing Victor, smiled and said, “Victor the famous fly catcher!”
Victor saw that Mr. Greene appeared disappointed, for Benjamin Franklin had totally ignored the history teacher. Ouch, thought Victor. That must hurt.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin,” Victor said. “Allow me to introduce my teacher, Mr. Greene.”
“Good day, sir,” Franklin said, nodding to Mr. Greene. “Pray sir, are you a Patriot or a Tory?” He sat down in a chair opposite Mr. Green, his hands covering the top of a walking cane made of bamboo.
“A Patriot, Mr. Franklin,” was all Mr. Greene could manage. Mr. Greene seemed starstruck. Victor knew Ben Franklin was Mr. Greene’s hero, but the sage of Philadelphia was frowning at Mr. Greene. Mr. Greene seemed to have realized his faux pas and corrected himself.
“Doctor Franklin, excuse me,” Mr. Greene said, assuaging the great man’s ego.
Franklin’s face brightened and Mrs. Ross brought the old man a chair. She also brought Mr. Greene his mended glasses.
“You are the cousin, I believe, of General Greene?” Franklin began. “From the British colony in Florida?”
“Yes, Dr. Franklin,’ Mr. Greene replied.
“Are you friends with your Spanish neighbors?” Franklin asked.
Victor wondered how Franklin knew so much about Florida in the 21
st
century and its Hispanic population, and then he realized Franklin was talking about 18
th
century Florida, which was a Spanish colony, except for the twenty years between 1763 and 1783 when the British ruled the peninsula—a result of a settlement of the Seven Years’ War and Spain backing the losing French.
“Yes, of course,” Greene replied.
“Well,” Franklin said. “If Spain will help us obtain our independence, perhaps we can help them regain Florida.”
“I see,” Mr. Greene said.
Franklin was a wheeler-dealer, Victor had learned. Mr. Greene told them Franklin was much more complicated than the stereotype of a crazy old coot who loved to fly his kite in the rain and chase the French ladies around the palace at Versailles. Besides being one of the premier scientists in the world during the 18
th
century, he was perhaps the most skilled diplomat the United States had ever had, able to cajole the French into an alliance that saved Uncle Sam’s bacon and birthright: Franklin oversaw the negotiation of the Treaty of Paris, an agreement that not only gave the United States its independence, but ceded the nascent nation the entire swath of land between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mississippi River, save for Florida, which was indeed returned to Spain in repayment of Spain’s assistance to the United States in the American Revolution. Victor realized Franklin intended a quid pro quo—one thing or another—with Spain. You help us, Spain, and we will return your precious Florida in return.
“I’m intrigued by your spectacles, Mr. Greene. I was at the silversmith’s on another matter when Mrs. Ross brought your eyeglasses in for repair. What is that odd material at the end of the arms?”
Oh no, Victor thought. Franklin was asking about the plastic ends of the glasses that set over a person’s ears.
“That is a strange wood we have in Cassadaga, Dr. Franklin,” Mr. Greene lied.
Victor had never considered Mr. Greene capable of deceit, nor had he heard him lie, unlike some of the teachers he endured in his education. He smiled slightly to think Mr. Greene was fibbing Franklin, his all-time hero.
“Cassadaga?”
“Our home in Florida, Dr. Franklin. It is a rare wood,” he repeated, referring to the plastic at the end of the arms of the spectacles.
“Indeed, very odd. And what is this line across the lens?”
Oh no, butterfly danger! Butterfly, Mr. Greene, butterfly. “Did I just see a butterfly, Mr. Greene?” he said.
Mr. Greene frowned at Victor and said to Benjamin Franklin, “Two lenses, Dr. Franklin. One for distance, the other for reading.”
“May I see?”
Mr. Greene handed him his glasses.
“You know, Mr. Greene, I am forever taking spectacles off and putting them on for reading and then distance. And here you have two in one, a bi lens, a bi-focus, so to speak. It is remarkable.”
Of course it is remarkable, Dr. Franklin, Victor thought.
You
invented
bifocals!
What was Mr. Greene doing by “butterflying” Ben Franklin? He remembered the morning and Thomas Jefferson’s complaints of moving his chair to catch the light as he read or wrote, and Mr. Greene hinting at the word “swivel,” like in swivel chair. Was it okay to do that since Jefferson developed the swivel chair and Franklin invented the bifocal lens?
“Well now,” Franklin said, standing up. “Mr. Greene, you must join me for supper at City Tavern this evening and tell me more of this marvelous wood and your interesting lenses.”
“Dr. Franklin?”
“Yes, Mr. Greene?”
“Your cane. What is that odd wood?”
What was going on? Victor wondered. Mr. Greene knew it was bamboo. There were bamboo plants in Florida. Heck, Victor had seen bamboo in Georgia and South Carolina. Of course, he doubted bamboo grew in Pennsylvania, so it was probably an exotic item for Benjamin Franklin.
Franklin beamed. “It is called ‘bamboo,’ it is from Siam, Mr. Greene. It is technically a ‘grass,’ not a wood,” he explained.
“May I examine it?”
“Surely,” Franklin said with a pleased look on his face.
“It is so light, Dr. Franklin.”
“Yes, but durable. Take it. I make it my gift to you.”
“Why, Dr. Franklin, that is nice of you, sir. Please take my hickory cane in exchange.”
“That is not necessary, Mr. Greene.”
“Please, Dr. Franklin, it would be my honor.”
Franklin half-bowed to Mr. Greene and took the hickory cane.
“Perhaps later for supper then, Mr. Greene?” Franklin said.
“If I can make it, sir,” Greene replied. “I have obligations to my students.”
“Well, bring them along, especially that young lass Minerva,” Franklin said, giving Mr. Greene a man-to-man wink.
Why you old… Victor thought. What was he thinking? Wasn’t he the guy who was going to ask Dr. Franklin for tips with girls? If he paid attention to the old guy, he might pick up something, he reminded himself.
After Franklin had gone and Mrs. Bridges and Mrs. Ross were attending customers in the front room, Victor said to his teacher, “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean, Victor?”
“The bifocals?”
“He invented them in 1780, Victor.”
“Yes, but this is 1776, Mr. Greene. Four years too soon.”
“I don’t think that’s going to make a difference. He probably would have invented them in 1776 anyway if he hadn’t been sent off as ambassador to France after the Declaration was signed.”
“The bamboo cane?”
“A talisman. Rodney’s riding crop is effective, but one has to still retrieve it later in the day. This cane—” he stroked it like he was petting a dog “—can replace the riding crop on the next visit without the worry of an inability to retrieve it, like Rodney’s riding crop. I realize it is a calculated risk, Victor, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done it, but after all these years chasing down the darn riding crop, well, I saw Franklin’s cane and decided to go for it.”
“So you used Dr. Franklin?”
Mr. Greene smiled. “Yes. It is something that Dr. Franklin could appreciate, for it was in his nature as well: the ability to get something from someone without them realizing what you had done.”
“But I thought Franklin was your hero?” Victor said. He didn’t understand how Mr. Greene could take advantage of a man whom he claimed to be his hero.
“Franklin is my hero, he’s our country’s hero, and only by studying Franklin could I have managed to pull it off and obtain a new talisman. This one is good until 1790, Victor!”
“1790?”
“That’s the year Franklin died. We’ll be able to visit the Constitutional Convention of 1787 if we wish. You know they had to carry him into the hall in 1787 on a sedan chair carried by four convicts from the Walnut Street Prison?”
“His gout?” Victor asked.
“Yes, it was really bad by 1787. Too much meat and not enough fruits and veggies in his diet,” Mr. Greene explained.
“He’s already suffering from it, Mr. Greene.”
“Yes, I noticed. He really needed that chair. What time is it, Victor? Discreetly check your iPod. I don’t want to rely on Mrs. Ross’s clock to leave here.”
Victor made sure Mrs. Bridges and Mrs. Ross were busy in the other room and fished his iPod from a pocket, caught the time and replaced the device.
“Nearly 4 P.M., Mr. Greene.”
“I hope the girls return soon. We need to be getting ready. This trip has been a disaster, I’m afraid, Victor.”
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve found it to be most educational.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, I’ve chatted with Benjamin Franklin and caught flies for Thomas Jefferson. I listened to Rodney address the Continental Congress and cast his vote for independence.”
Mr. Greene nodded. “That is indeed a productive day. I can’t say the same for the Anderson twins though, Victor.”
Victor thought for a moment, then replied, “But sir, they got to see a side of 18
th
century life that none of your prior students has ever seen.”
Mr. Greene managed a half-smile. “Well, Victor, a few years ago, I did have a boy who was severely intoxicated in a tavern. We got him home, but I assigned him to Saturday School for his misbehavior. Strangely, he arrived back at school completely sober. I found him in the tavern spouting off about the future to an audience that seemed to think him crazy as he went on about trips to the moon on rocket ships and so forth. Still, I had to give him Saturday School for that. We were lucky that when we got back to Cassadaga nothing had changed. We’ll have to check textbooks when we get home, Victor, to make sure nothing we did today impacted history. I know, the bifocals, but he was going to do it anyway, so I only sped up the process by a few years. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I hope not, Mr. Greene.”
“Be a good lad, Victor. Go down to the docks and see if you can see what happened to the girls, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Victor said.
Before he left, Victor asked Mrs. Ross for the loan of her sword cane and she gave it to him. He didn’t think he would need the cane, but he wanted to have it in case of an emergency, because nothing that had occurred that day had followed the lesson plans that Mr. Greene had developed.
Chapter 12
Minerva and Bette docked the shallop. The Anderson twins jumped out without helping the girls, and Bette tied the little boat to the dock and thanked the elderly fisherman for the loan of his equipment.
“Anything for Mrs. Bridges, miss,” he smiled, revealing missing teeth.
Bette smiled in return, showing a smile perfected through the modern magic of orthodontics.
Minerva joined Bette Kromer on the wooden dock. The ghosts of the Beards were arguing. Minerva was surprised. She didn’t know that ghosts argued. Of course, Minerva had heard her parents arguing before, and some of those arguments got a bit heated and some of the words her parents used with one another pained Minerva, for she felt so uncomfortable when her parents fought. And here were Mary and Charles Beard, and while Charles might have been the more famous scholar, his wife was getting the best of the argument with him.
“That’s the best you could blow, Charles, that was pathetic,” Mary said, referring to Charles’ help in guiding the boat back to shore. “We’re lucky the children are still alive. But then children are a woman’s work, aren’t they, Charles? Isn’t that what you always said? Women’s work?”
“Mary, I am dead. That’s sort of cut my wind power. What do you want from me” Charles groused, but his tongue wasn’t able to progress any further before Mary let forth another verbal assault. “Useless, useless,” she said, shaking her head in disdain.