War (8 page)

Hunt frowned. This stranger would not be bluffed or intimidated. He glanced at his two colleagues from the Customs office in Hampton, then said, as officiously as he could, “We have received information that this place contains contraband. Our source is unimpeachable. I might add that my duties, sanctioned or not by you, would not come under the consideration of any local court, or even the General Court, but under the authority of the Admiralty.” He reached into his coat, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and waved it in the air. “I have here a writ of assistance, signed by the commander of His Majesty’s naval forces here, as he is authorized to do in his capacity as a member of the Admiralty.”

Hugh shrugged. “Another violator of the constitution.”

Hunt smirked. “So you say, sir.” He returned the document to his coat, and nodded to the lieutenant and his marines.

The lieutenant of marines ordered his men to advance their arms. The six redcoats smartly brought their firelocks from their shoulders and held them level in both hands at the ready, pointed in the direction of the intervening horsemen.

“There, sir, are the upholders of the constitution! Dispute my authority with them, if you dare!”

A new voice spoke, condescending, condemnatory, and commanding. “You are a scamp, a rogue, and a coward, sir.”

Hunt scowled and turned to look up at the gentleman who spoke. He scoffed once, and asked, “Are
you
the owner, sir?’

“No. I am Captain Roger Tallmadge, Grenadier Guards, on Crown business of my own here…”

Lieutenant Manners, looking worried, leaned forward. “Sir, do you think it’s wise — ”

Tallmadge waved a hand without glancing at his aide, who stopped speaking. “Mr. Hunt, my friend here is quite within his rights to be outraged by your proposed action, and if he sees fit to interfere with it, I shall lend him my avid assistance.”

“If you interfere with
my
Crown business, sir, I am authorized to instruct the lieutenant to reply in kind, and if you survive, you will be cashiered from your precious Guards!”

Roger grinned carelessly at Hunt. “That, sir, will be a matter between my superiors and me, and you are surely not one of my superiors.”

Hugh said, “Well, Mr. Hunt, if there is to be a civil war, then let it begin here. I can assure you, however, that you will not live long enough to witness the outcome of this skirmish, or of the larger conflagration it is sure to precipitate.” He smiled wickedly. “History will judge you according to Mr. Tallmadge’s description of your character. I am willing to accept responsibility for such a cataclysm. Are you?” Then he calmly reached down, undid the hasp that secured his sword to its sheath, and drew out the weapon. He rested the blade on his shoulder and waited.

Roger Tallmadge emulated him, and drew his own sword. He exchanged a brief smile with his friend, with whom he had never had a chance to share such an adventure.

They heard the rustle of movement behind them. Both men turned and saw a gathering of Morland Hall tenants, black and white, nearly fifteen of them, ranged in a semicircle that encompassed the tableau. Some carried muskets, which they had “advanced” in the same manner as the marines. Others brandished pitchforks and hoes. Roger glanced at Hugh again; he was more startled by the demonstration than was his friend. Neither of them noticed Lieutenant Manners, who studied the tenants disapprovingly.

Hunt was stunned. He was sweating now, and stood fingering the hilt of his undrawn sword. His two colleagues stood watching their feet shuffling in the dirt. He had observed, at first with unconcern, the collection of men who looked like tenants and slaves of the plantation here. They carried mostly farming tools and implements, but a few sported muskets.
Whether or not these weapons were charged to fire, he could not tell. But his party was clearly outnumbered, and these tenants and slaves looked determined to support the two gentlemen on horseback. He swallowed once in the knowledge that to continue to press his duty now would be a folly he did not want to answer for; indeed, one he might not survive.

To further complicate the situation, a woman, obviously a lady, had appeared on a riding chair and sat in its seat on the fringes of the tenants, watching with obvious horror.

He heard sounds on the porch of the great house. He turned and saw that two more men had gathered on it behind the finely dressed woman with red hair, presumably the mistress of the house, whom he had not even had the chance to address. They carried pistols at the ready, and those pistols were cocked.

Hunt had not counted on such resistance. The letter he had received about a possible cache of arms hidden in this house did not hint at the resolute defiance he might encounter, although he had thought it prudent to request the assistance of the marines from the naval commander. Even if the lieutenant could fire a volley, he and his men could be overwhelmed in the midst of reloading. The situation had become dangerous and humiliating. It was time to concede defeat. The Customs inspector turned back to the strangers. “Who
are
you, sir?” he asked with impatience.

“Hugh Kenrick, master of Meum Hall,” said Hugh, pointing vaguely in the direction of the plantation with his sword, “and burgess for this county.”

In spite of his angry red pallor, the Customs inspector seemed to smile, and his black eyes become animate with some secret knowledge. The two intruders studied him with curiosity, for they could not account for his change in demeanor. He derived a small satisfaction from that.

Hunt abruptly turned to the marine lieutenant. “Shoulder your men’s arms, lieutenant, and prepare to march them back to the boat! We are done here!”

The lieutenant, a young man whose eyes were wide with fright, immediately complied with the request and gave his orders. A barely suppressed collective sigh of relief blew from the squad of redcoats. When his men’s weapons were shouldered, the lieutenant looked to Mr. Hunt for further instruction.

“March them out, thank you, lieutenant. We will follow.”

The lieutenant left-faced his men, strode to the head of them, and
quick-marched them away. The tenants parted to let them pass. Hunt’s two colleagues followed without their own superior’s leave.

Hunt waved a stern finger at the two horsemen. “Do not doubt me, sirs! I will write the authorities about this incident, make no mistake about that! There will be consequences!” Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and followed his party.

Hugh and Roger reined their mounts around and followed the Customs inspector a short distance. It was only then that Hugh noticed his wife in the riding chair, and the mask of bitterness in her expression.

She looked away from him, turned the chair around, and rode away back to Meum Hall.

H
ugh wanted to follow her, but resisted the impulse. He knew what she was thinking. He also knew it was necessary to punctuate the episode with an assurance that the Customsmen would not return. Instead, he rode with Tallmadge in the wake of the marines and Customsmen down the rolling road to the pier and the waiting galley boat tied to it. Lieutenant Manners trailed behind out of curiosity. There they stopped to watch the party board the boat. A pair of
Fowey
crewmen rowed them back across the water to the warship.

Hugh glanced behind him. Some of the tenants had followed them down the road. Others were gathered on the lawn over the bluff. He saw Etáin, Robbins and Hurry among them. He sheathed his sword, dismounted, and led his horse to the foot of the pier, where he leaned back on a post. Tallmadge grinned, and did the same, leaning on the opposite post.

Everyone waited until the
Fowey
’s anchors had been hoisted and its sails reset to catch a westerly breeze in mid-river.

“Well, elder brother,” asked Tallmadge, “what now?”

Hugh shrugged. “We wait until Mr. Hunt has truly departed.”

“What do you think he expected to find?”

“I don’t know, Roger.”

“If he was able to search for contraband, and found it, how could he have taken it away?”

“By seizing Jack’s draft horses and a wagon to cart it to the pier, and using some of his axes and other tools to do it. These men are brazenly proprietary in their use of other men’s property.”

They all watched the warship’s bow slowly turn in the current, and the intruder begin its return trip back down the York.

Hugh sighed. “Well, I must return to Meum Hall, and see what troubles my wife.” He grinned almost apologetically to Roger and moved toward his mount. He saw the Morland Hall tenants and bowed his head. “Thank you, sirs.”

Then he saw Etáin, Robbins and Hurry coming down the rolling road. Etáin also thanked the tenants, and turned to Hugh. “Mr. Kenrick, I am grateful for your gesture. Jack will be pleased to hear about this.” She
turned to Roger Tallmadge, who stood behind Hugh. “Mr. Tallmadge, you introduced yourself. I am Mrs. Jack Frake. You must know that I had asked Hugh not to bring you to Morland. But I believe now that I must revoke that request, and apologize for the inhospitality. You are welcome at Morland Hall. My husband would be interested in meeting you.”

Tallmadge was startled by this frank statement, even though he had been told of the refusal. But he doffed his hat and nodded. “Thank you, madam.” He glanced inquiringly at Hugh.

Hugh said, “Forgive me, Roger, but I did think it necessary to inform Mrs. Frake that you were a serving officer in the army, and of your purpose here.”

Tallmadge looked bewildered, but amused. “Of course.”

Without further word, Hugh took his leave, mounted his horse, and cantered back up the rolling road.

Both Tallmadge and Etáin guessed the reason for their friend’s concern, but did not speak of it.

* * *

Jared Hunt stood on the deck, his sight fixed on the tableau of figures at the pier, and waited for the crew to hoist up the galley boat. The marines and other Customsmen had scattered on the deck to loiter and speculate until the
Fowey
got under way again. He congratulated himself for not having let his temper get the best of him, and temper he had. Patience was a virtue he had learned to acquire, exercise and appreciate during his years at Windridge Court, London, and in Danvers, Dorset. He knew he had made a wise decision. There would be another time, perhaps a better time, to impose his authority. He had been warned, by both his colleagues, and by the informing letters, that there might be an altercation, and that he might of necessity be the cause of it. But the scale of the opposition here surprised him and his colleagues from the Hampton Customs office.

His colleagues, of course, now wondered what they should do. He told them he would merely report what had happened. It would not have mattered if he had been accompanied by a regiment of marines; he would have retired from the situation. He was not going to be responsible for a “Boston massacre” here. No such disaster would ever be put on his head.

He owed his present position to his father’s influence with members of the American Board of Customs Commissioners in London, and had been
appointed Customs Inspector Extraordinary. The position and commission came with special discretionary powers, and allowed him to pursue matters of his own judgment and choosing. He had learned, upon his arrival here months ago, that the regular Customsmen did not wish to deal with Jack Frake or any known “Son of Liberty” anywhere in the region. In the past, he had accompanied them when they ventured out to search the properties of suspected contraband traders. These expeditions were rare, for it seemed that as the Crown became more omnipotent, the less it could exact obedience and revenue from the colonials. The Customsmen, he knew, feared for their health; often for their lives. Consequently, they were very selective in the properties they chose to raid, deciding to visit only those traders and inhabitants known to be neutral or passive insofar as Crown authority was concerned.

So-called Committees of Safety were also multiplying in many counties and exercising an exasperating authority not even enjoyed by local sheriffs or courts in more civil, abiding times. It seemed that no matter what discreet precautions were taken by the Customsmen here before carrying out a search, no matter how stealthy their preparations, armed parties would anticipate their arrival and appear to challenge or harass them. No shots had been fired yet by either side, although some incautious and headstrong officers had been seized and tarred and feathered by these renegades, or beaten to within a breath of their lives, or otherwise humiliated or threatened with ominous reprisals. Some had even been coerced into signing promises to resign their commissions or posts under the threat of having their houses pulled down and their surviving property seized by the vandals to pay other Crown taxes and imposts.

Reports of such unfortunate incidents came from many of the port towns up and down all the rivers of the Roads. He had journeyed
incognito
to some of these places to evaluate their reputation for violence or their potential for trouble. He had gotten to know the country and its inhabitants, and had grown to dislike them. Everything was too raw here; he had yet to encounter a colonial who was not crude, or peevish, or insolent. Oh, how he ached for the abundant and sophisticated fleshpots of London, whose cosmopolitan ambience catered to every whim and pleasure!

But, thought Hunt — and he had thought it many times, and even wrote his father and his patron on the Customs Board about it — the contentious situation in the colonies, and in Virginia especially, could lead to only one end, as the clamor of authority opposed the hue and cry of resistance.
They clashed repeatedly and would reach a deafening, ineluctable crescendo: war. He could almost smell it in the air.

He had believed it after having spent only a few weeks here. He believed it still. He smiled now, because others were certain of it, as well. Such as Hugh Kenrick. And probably Jack Frake. His informants had suggested that the master of Morland Hall was assembling a private armory of illegal weapons and ordnance. That was what he had wanted to find and confiscate, and to arrest that planter.

He knew about Jack Frake, and had known about him for years, and of his friendship with Hugh Kenrick. His father had in his possession political pamphlets the two men had written years ago, and also had collected information about them from a variety of sources, including from members of the Commons and Lords. His father had marked the pair for misery and was determined to extinguish their influence and existence in the realm of things that mattered.

Of course, he would not commit the action himself. He was averse to violence and other disagreeable matters. He remembered standing frozen in debilitating horror as he watched the murder of Dogmael Jones years ago, and being physically ill for some time after the event. But, he had proven quite adept at arranging such things to the satisfaction of all interested parties.

His own allegiance to the Crown was unshakable, founded largely on the promises of his father, the Earl of Danvers, of his own house in London, of a knighthood, of a lucrative sinecure, and perhaps even a seat in the Commons — all that if he could arrange the unfortunate demise of Hugh Kenrick, his father’s nephew and his own cousin, in such a way that would bring shameful pain to the young man’s father and his family, yet not cast any suspicion of culpability on the Earl. Until now, Hugh Kenrick had been a mere abstraction, a face in a family portrait. He had postponed seeking out this young man until he had accustomed himself to his new circumstances, and saw what was possible and what was not.

He had taken quick stock of the brash young Kenrick — whom he did not at first recognize — during that brief confrontation. He had been subjected to a taste of his character, and could now plan how to fulfill his father’s wishes. It would not be easy, and it would take time. He knew that he had time.

War would not happen for a while.

As the
Fowey
gathered way down the river past Caxton, he speculated how much damage could be done to the town by the ship’s guns. He
thought: They wouldn’t even need to aim.

* * *

Reverend Acland observed with surprise the party that had debouched from the
Fowey
returning to it so soon. He could see the Morland pier upriver, and noted that no objects had been deposited on it to be loaded into the galley boat and then taken to the warship. That was very curious, as well. He could see only the outermost part of the pier, and Morland’s small flatboat and ketch moored on the other side of it, and the riverbank not at all.

As the warship coasted back down river, the minister paced back and forth on the bluff, deep in speculation. He wondered if the precipitate departure of Hugh Kenrick and his friends from the bluff had something to do with this development. He was certain that Jack Frake had been secreting something illegal. He had observed, from his home near Stepney Parish Church, strange nocturnal comings and goings over the last few months.

He had heard that the master of Morland had dug an ice cellar, a very strange project to have undertaken so close to spring, when there would be no ice to bring down from the Piedmont. Reece Vishonn of Enderly, he knew, stocked his ice cellar with ice in January, when the frozen stuff was transportable, and often available and plentiful in the brooks and streams that bordered his plantation. The minister hoped that he had not made a fool of himself and erred in his judgment. After all, he had signed the letter with an ebulliently sanctimonious relish.

The minister learned later, by means of jubilant gossip overheard in some of the shops he patronized, that the Customsmen had been foiled in their mission to rummage the great house of Morland by none other than Hugh Kenrick, his friends, and the tenants themselves.

In his private moments, the minister queried God about why He had chosen to place him in such iniquitous company. Then, by the logic of his beliefs, he answered the query himself, knowing that he was here to do His and the Crown’s bidding. He took satisfaction in knowing that he was a tool of divine and imperial intervention, but managed to persuade himself that this personal felicity was of the virtuously disinterested kind. “My malice is pure and heaven inspired,” he often thought to himself, “and it will be sated according to His merciful justice.”

* * *

Edgar Cullis, also a burgess for Queen Anne County, sat in his father’s library at Cullis Hall, which neighbored Enderly, reading back issues of the two
Virginia Gazettes
, desiring to catch up with news from abroad and from the northern colonies, unaware that His Majesty’s servants had attempted to heed his written advice to raid Morland Hall for what he suspected were contraband arms. He, too, had heard about the new ice cellar at Morland Hall, and had paid some of his father’s servants to spy on the goings-on there. They had reported that at night, small fishing vessels and other river craft had called on the Morland pier to unload longish crates, kegs and other suspicious-looking cargo, and that they had been met by Mr. Frake and some of his tenants, who carted the goods to the great house.

Edgar Cullis had not spoken of any of this to his father, who was inclined to sympathize with Hugh Kenrick and other recalcitrants in the House. But the law was the law, he thought, and until an arguably oppressive law was repealed, or amended to correct its severity, flouting it deserved a commensurate penalty. Neglecting to enforce it could only lead to anarchy, mob rule, and destruction. Jack Frake, for as long as Cullis had known him, had been a leading flouter of the law. And now he was a ringleader in a concerted movement to defy the Crown. It was time he was reined in and taught the value of obedience. With his incarceration and punishment, the “patriot” movement in Queen Anne County would collapse, and the county would not suffer the reprisals that were certain to be visited on other lawless counties and towns, once the Crown decided to restore order in its dominions.

Edgar Cullis, attorney, loyal citizen of Virginia and steadfast subject of the Crown, believed in moderation in all things.

* * *

“I see you hurtling toward some needless tragedy, Hugh,” she said, not looking at him, but at the
Fowey
as it passed slowly downriver, “and I don’t want to be here to witness it.”

“Hurtling?” he answered. “Yes, I concede that I am hurtling towards something. To a needless tragedy? No. Rather, towards necessary action.”

When he returned to Meum Hall, after a search in the great house, he found Reverdy standing alone near the edge of the riverfront lawn. He
knew how disturbed she was; she was absently worrying the riding chair whip she still held in both hands, having left the conveyance at the stable. And all he had said to her, as he came to stand by her, was “Reverdy.” And she had answered.