The Beloved Land (33 page)
“Not surrender, sir. And that is the problem. They continue to see us as colonials. They still hold out the hope that we can be brought back into the British fold, if only the terms are agreed upon by both. And that is where they are wrong. The tides of men and war have gone too far. We seek independence from the Crown. Nothing less will do. Washington has told them that in no uncertain terms.”
“What will happen?” Nicole asked with sinking heart.
“A great battle,” the general replied definitely. “This year or next. A telling blow. Perhaps two. We must defeat them soundly. We must send Cornwallis packing with his tail between his legs.”
Nicole set her cup to one side. She had been so in hopes of a few weeks, a few months, bringing an end to it all. …
Gordon said, “We come with good news and a request, sir.” “I have already seen the ship’s manifest. A most remarkable haul. And extremely needed. Too much land lies fallow through this planting season. Too many farmers are far from home. Too many, I fear, shall never return.”
Gordon pushed forward. “It is not merely this shipload, sir. Not at all. We may have established a new supply route that will last through the conflict and beyond.”
“I say.” The general set his cup aside and leaned forward. “That is good news indeed.”
Swiftly Gordon described the situation they had found attempting to deal with the New Orleans traders and customs officials. He recounted their journey inland, the initial hostility of the Acadian settlers, and how things gradually altered.
“You are telling me these Acadian folk will arrange shipments north for the foreseeable future?”
“It is because of my wife and her family, General. Without them we would have returned empty-handed.”
“Then I must once again express my heartfelt gratitude.” But the general’s shrewd gaze remained penetrating as he looked at Gordon. “Yes, I am now sufficiently prepared. Tell me the cost.”
“No direct cost, General. No demands. Only a request.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My ship,” Gordon continued. “It was entrusted to me by merchants in Southampton. I wish to take her home.”
“You wish me to give you a vessel captured in wartime?”
“On the contrary,” Gordon countered. “I am certain the merchants who entrusted me with this vessel shall willingly pay proper compensation for its return.”
The general inspected them both. “Let me see if I understand this correctly. You are offering me much-needed supplies, throughout the summer and beyond. In repayment, you wish to keep this ship of yours.”
“Not keep, sir—simply return it to its owners.”
“Whether you agree to the return of this vessel or not,” Nicole assured him, “we will endeavor to aid you. You have my father’s word.”
“Henri Robichaud is one of the most honorable men I have ever met, sir,” Gordon added. “You can be certain that if it is humanly possible to deliver supplies, this gentleman will do so.”
The general rose and crossed to the tall side windows. He stared long out at the sunlit vista, rocking up and down on his toes, his boots creaking with each motion. He clasped his hands together behind his back.
Without turning around, he declared, “Even assuming that I might relinquish the vessel, I cannot permit you to skipper her back to England. Your services are required here. And the British might not see fit to release you, no matter what offering you bring them. You have declared for their enemy.”
“I am aware of this,” Gordon admitted.
The general turned around. “You have thought of a solution?”
He hesitated, then asked, “Do you have British navy men in the stockade here?”
The general’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You seek to send your vessel back with prisoners of war at the helm?”
“You said it yourself, sir. The war will be over soon enough. Demand of them their oath that they shall not engage in conflict, that they shall sail the vessel home and relinquish it to the proper owners.”
“You would trust them to do so?”
“They are combatants, sir. Their allegiance is not my own. Not any longer. But I would trust them to adhere to their oath as British officers.”
“And if there are not enough ready seamen?”
“They could stop by Halifax,” Gordon replied quickly. “Nova Scotia must have its share of able tars looking for a working passage home. And being a British vessel, they might come and go unhindered.”
“I see you have thought this through.” The general nodded slowly. “You shall have my answer before dusk.”
Gordon rose to his feet with Nicole. “Thank you, sir.”
“One further item.” The general hesitated a long moment, then moved back to his desk. “May I ask if you are a man of faith, Captain?”
Gordon immediately answered, “That I am, sir. What—?”
“I have found that a man facing the tides of war needs a strength greater than his own. Still I find myself humbled by the power of the unexpected.” His fingers pushed aside papers until they came upon a small packet of bound envelopes. “As you know, our forces have had several significant victories at sea. The most recent of these only arrived in harbor yesterday evening, a merchant vessel inbound from Portsmouth. Among its papers, well …”
He untied the binding cord and lifted the top envelope, then reached across the table toward Nicole. “This letter is addressed to you, ma’am. And its very existence I would count as a most astonishing miracle. One so great that I have spent the entire day wondering just what God might wish for me to do, what great and impossible task that requires such an astonishing miracle as a letter captured at sea and arriving upon my desk the same morning as we are scheduled to meet.”
Nicole’s heart pounded and her knees felt weak as she looked at her husband. “It is from Uncle Charles,” she said through lips stiff with shock.
The general went on, “Another letter has arrived this morning. One requesting my aid in supplying a vessel to transport an envoy from General Washington to London. I cannot believe all this is mere coincidence. No, I find myself confronting a hand far wiser and surer than my own.”
She accepted the letter, staring down at the envelope that bore her name in bold script. She did so hope that it was simply a greeting from her uncle, not more bad news.
But the general was still speaking. “There were other letters in the packet as well, but …” He sighed. “I don’t suppose there is much chance that they will ever be delivered.” He shook his head as he fingered the letters on his desk. “I wouldn’t know how to ever get them to the addresses shown.”
It was Gordon who asked the startling question that got Nicole’s full attention. “Excuse me, sir, for my boldness, but does that top envelope say Georgetown?”
“Georgetown? Yes. That’s not even on our shores. It’s still held by the British. Not much chance …”
“Perhaps there is, sir. In fact, we hope to be traveling there if arrangements can be made for us to port at Halifax. My wife’s kin are there.”
The general looked up with widened eyes. “You don’t say. You could take them with you to Georgetown? Do you think there is a way you could find the party addressed?”
“We could certainly try. It is a small village. It should not be a difficult matter.”
The general looked both relieved and astounded. “I never supposed that these letters would ever be delivered, circumstances as they are. They are all three meant for Georgetown.”
He lifted the letters and studied them for a moment. “In fact, it is strange, but it appears they are in the same script as the one your wife is holding.”
Nicole could scarcely contain herself. She wished to grab the letters from the gentleman’s hands and see for herself.
“Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Harrow,” the general read absentmindedly.
“Indeed. Sir?” Gordon said, catching the excitement Nicole was feeling in his voice. “They are my wife’s parents.”
The general raised his eyes. It was clear from his expression that he found the words hard to comprehend. “Her parents?”
“Yes, sir. The Harrows.”
The general just shook his head. When at last he seemed to have regained his tongue, he shifted the letters in his hand and said, “Is there any chance you know these other people? Mr. John Price?”
“Her grandfather.”
The general extended both letters toward Gordon.
“And a Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Crowley.”
“Her sister,” Gordon said without hesitation, not quibbling over the fact that Nicole and Anne were not truly blood sisters.
The general was shaking his head. “Then you may deliver this too to Georgetown.”
Gordon responded with a light laugh. “That will not be necessary, sir. She is here—in Boston. We can deliver that letter within the hour.”
He accepted the third letter.
“This is most unbelievable,” the general said. “I expected that all would lie and gather dust. And here you have been sent to me, and you are able to get them all to where they were meant to go. All I can say is that someone, somewhere, must have been in good favor with the Almighty.”
Nicole could only nod, her heart echoing this truth. At the same time, her pulse beat faster. What was so important about this little packet of letters that God seemed to have arranged for a miraculous delivery to them? She prayed that it was good news.
Gordon knew Nicole would find it hard to wait to find out the contents of the letter, so as soon as they had rounded the corner from the headquarters, he turned to her. “There is a low wall just over there, my dear. I am willing to spread my coat if you wish to sit.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said with feeling, understanding his offer. “The coat will not be necessary. My gown is already covered in dust. But I am anxious.”
They crossed to the wall, and he brushed the worst of the dust from a spot for her to sit in the shade. Eagerly she tore open the envelope. Gordon sat down beside her, and she began to read aloud. He watched her as her eyes tried to scan the page ahead of her voice. They both soon knew her fears were unfounded. Charles and Judith had written a simple letter of family news, telling that they missed her and remembered her daily in their prayers. They spoke of little John and his delight with the pianoforte. They said they were both keeping well— invigorated by having a child in the home. They wondered if there was any chance at all that she might cross paths with Anne and Thomas. And they spoke of the local villagers and the individuals she had known when among them. They both ended by saying that they sent their love and trusted she was well and happy. Nicole fought back her tears. What a special gift it was to receive word from those she loved after so long a time.
She refolded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Then she stood hurriedly. “We must get this other letter to Anne. Quickly,” she said. “She has been so anxious about news of little John.”
“Are you able to walk on alone?” Gordon asked solicitously. Nicole seemed about to dash off without even giving an answer. “I must go to the stockade and select a crew—if I am that fortunate,” he told her. “With what has just happened I feel much more confident. One more miracle seems easy to believe.” He smiled and Nicole smiled back. She waved the letters she held in her hand. “I must share the miracle with Anne,” she answered. He touched her arm and let her go, with an admonition to keep her steps to a reasonable walk.
Anne’s letter proved to be much like Nicole’s, only it contained much more news about small John. Judith wrote in a small script and filled four thin pages. Anne seemed to drink in each word. Nicole left her in peace until she had finished the reading and gained control of her emotions. Nicole felt her own growing child stir within her and placed a hand on her abdomen. Already she loved him—or her—dearly. She couldn’t imagine what Anne must be going through parted from her beloved child.
When she felt that Anne was once again ready to talk, Nicole spoke.
“We have some other exciting news. Gordon will explain it all when he returns. It is … it is almost unthinkable. God has been doing some miraculous works. Miraculous. Yes, that is the only word for it.”
Anne’s eyes lifted. They were red and puffy, but a new light was shining there. “More exciting news?” she repeated. “I can’t imagine anything more exciting than this.” She lifted the letter still in her hands. “My little boy, my baby, sent me his love. He even drew a kiss on the page. And he said, through Nana, that
when I come back home he will play a piece for me on the pianoforte. My baby! Just think of it. He can play the pianoforte. And he said they will be sure to have plum pudding ready for me.”
She managed a trembling smile.
Nicole could only nod. Perhaps there was little in the world more exciting than that.