P. N. Elrod - Barrett 03, page 6
"Many share that view, sir," I said. "It only makes sense to remove oneself from the conflict." I was far enough upwind of him so as to avoid his smoke, a little recovered, but still uncertain of my belly. It had a disconcerting habit of cramping at irregular intervals.
"Would that the conflict would remove itself from me. Surely the generals can find other places to fight their wars. Of course, the rogues that were raising the devil near my house weren't of any army."
"Who were they? More Sons of Liberty?"
"Damned Sons of Perdition is what I call 'em. For all the soldiers about, they still get up to enough mischief to curdle a butcher's blood. We had a fine house not far from Hempstead, and one night they came storming up demanding to see a neighbor of mine. They were so drunk that they'd come to the wrong door, and I was fearful they'd be dragging me out to be tarred and feathered."
"What incensed them? Besides the drink, that is."
"They'd taken it into their heads that my innocent neighbor was spying for General Howe . . . or Lord North. They weren't very clear about that point, but were damning both with equal fervor."
"What did you do?"
"Called at them from the upper window to disperse and go home. I had a pistol in hand, but one shot's not enough for a crowd, and there looked to be a dozen of them. They even had an effigy of my neighbor hanging from a pole, ready for burning. Took the longest time to convince them they were lost, then they wanted to know about me and whether I was a true follower of their cause. Told them that if their cause was to frighten good people out of their rest in the dead of night, then they should take it elsewhere and be damned."
"Given the circumstances, that doesn't strike me as having been a wise thing to say."
"It wasn't, but I was that angered by them. 'If you're not for us, you're against us!' they cried. They won't let an honest man mind his own business, not them. Some of the fools were for breaking in and taking me off for that sauce, but I decided to aim my pistol right at the leader and made sure he noticed. Asked him if he'd rather go back to his tavern and drink the health of General Washington or take a ball between his eyes right then and there. He chose the tavern and spared us all a great deal of trouble. My poor wife was left half-distracted by all that bother, and the next morning we were packing to leave. It's a hard thing to bear, but it won't be forever. Perhaps in a year or two we can return and resume where we left off."
"I hope all goes well for you, then. Have you any friends in London to help you when you arrive?"
"There are one or two people I know from New York who are now living in Chelsea. They left before Howe's landing and a good thing, too, for the fire last year consumed their houses."
No need to ask what fire. For those who lived within even distant sight of New York, there was only the one.
"Have you friends as well?" asked Mr. Quinton.
"Family. My sister and I will be staying with our cousin Oliver. I hope that he'll have received the letter we sent announcing our coming and will put us up until we find a place of our own."
"Has a large family, does he?"
"No, he just prefers his solitude." After a lifetime of having to account for himself every time his mother pinned him with her glare, my good cousin was positively reveling in his freedom. We'd shared rooms at Cambridge, but that's different from having one's own house and servants. Having also come into his inheritance from Grandfather Fonteyn's estate and with the beginnings of a fine medical practice bringing in a steady income, Oliver was more than content with his lot. "I'm very much looking forward to seeing him again; we had some fine times together."
Quinton's eyes lit up. "Ho, raised a bit of the devil yourselves, did you?"
"Our share, though we weren't as wild as some of our friends."
"But wild enough, hey?"
Compared to some of the others at the university, we were positively sedate, but then both of us would have to work for our suppers someday, so we did apply ourselves to study as it became necessary. Oliver wanted to be out and away from the restrictions of Fonteyn House—his mother's house—and I had pledged to Father that I would do my best. Not that our studies seriously interfered with the pursuit of pleasure, though.
"I suppose my wild days are over," said Quinton. His pipe had gone out and he knocked the bowl against the rail to empty it. "Not that I've any regrets. I've a real treasure in my Polly and little Meg. For all the unrest, I count myself a blessed man. We're all together and in good health, well . . . that is to say . . ."
"I'm sure they'll be fine, given time. This malady is a nuisance, but no one's died from it that I've ever heard."
"Thank you for that comfort, sir. Now that I've reminded myself of their troubles, I think I'll see as to how they're getting along." He excused himself and went below.
I leaned on the rail and fervently wished myself well again. Without his company for a diversion, the illness within rose up, once more demanding attention. As the ship heaved and plunged, so did my belly. My poor head was ready to burst from the constant ache between my ears. On each of my previous voyages I'd been sick, briefly, but it had not been anything as horrid as this. Was the difference in the ship, in the roughness of the sea, or in myself?
Myself, I decided unhappily. If I had difficulty crossing a stream, then a whole ocean would certainly prove to be infinitely more laborious. I gulped several times.
"Perhaps you should be in bed, sir." Jericho had appeared out of nowhere, or so it seemed to my befogged brain.
"Perhaps you're right. Where'd Elizabeth get to?" She'd made off with herself soon after I'd fallen into conversation with Quinton.
"In bed as well. It was a very tiring day for her."
Yes. Day. The one I'd missed, like all the others. And she'd been up for most of the night with packing. Having had more than my share of rest, it was damned inconsiderate of me to forget that she might need some, too.
"My insides are too disturbed for me to retire just yet. The air seems to help a bit."
Jericho nodded, put his hands behind his back, and assumed a stance that would allow him to remain sturdily afoot on the pitching deck. "Very good, sir."
And it was doubly damned inconsiderate of me to forget that of all people, Jericho might also be exhausted. Yes, he was; I could see that once I wrenched attention from myself to give him a close look. "None of that 'very good, sir' nonsense with me," I said peevishly. "Get below and go to sleep. I'll be all right sooner or later. If it turns out to be later, you'll need your strength to deal with me."
Along with the fatigue, amusement fluttered behind his dark eyes. "Very good, sir." He bade me a pleasant night and moved off, his walk timed to match the rhythm of the ship's motion. A natural sailor. Would that some of that inborn expertise could transfer to me.
Alone and with the whole night stretching ahead, I had ample time to feel sorry for myself. Hardly a new experience, but never before had it been so . . . concentrated. I couldn't just float off to visit Molly or gossip at The Oak. Any social activities I could enjoy were restricted to those swift hours between sunset and the time everyone had to sleep. No wonder Nora read so much. I'd brought a number of books, more than enough, but the idea of reading held no appeal as long as I was reacting so badly to the ship's rolling progress.
Despite my profession for not wanting to feed just now, it occurred to me that perhaps some fresh blood might be of help against this miserable condition. It was a wonderful remedy for anything that ailed me on land, after all. Jericho and Elizabeth had both made a point to mention that the cattle were secure in their stalls below and to provide directions on how to reach them, but I'd since forgotten what they'd said. Might as well use the time to see things for myself.
I spied one of the officers who had been introduced earlier and staggered over to make inquiries. He was on watch and could not leave his post, but detailed one of the seamen to take me below. The fellow led the way, surefooted as a goat and full of merriment for my own inept efforts at walking. Things improved somewhat below decks. The passages were so narrow that it was impossible not to remain vertical—as long as one fell sideways.
The darkness was so profound that not even my eyes would have been of use if our candle went out. We slipped through a number of confusing areas, occasionally spotting a feeble gleam from other candles as we passed other tiny cabins, and a somewhat larger chamber filled with hammocks, each one swinging heavily with the weight of a sleeping man. Snores filled the close air; the air itself made me more thankful than ever that I had no pressing need to use it.
Our journey ended in another chamber not far from the slumbering sailors, and the lowing sounds coming from it blended well with the deep noise of the ship. I thanked my guide and gave him a penny for his help, for which he volunteered to lend me any future assistance should it be required. He then sped away, leaving the candle behind, apparently having no need of it to make his way back topside.
The heifers appeared to be all right, given their situation, though none could be said to look very happy about it. Most were restless and complaining, which I took as a good sign; better that than with their heads hanging and voices silent with indifference. Father and I had picked the healthiest from our dwindling herd in the hope that they would last the journey, but sometimes one just could not tell. One moment you'd have a strapping, bright-eyed beast and the next it could be flat on its side, having dropped dead in its tracks. Those were the realities of life for a gentleman farmer. Or any farmer, for that matter.
Well, if it happened, so be it; I was nowhere near upon the verge of starvation, nor ever intended to get that far. I felt absolutely no hunger now, but the hope that blood might ease things impelled me to pick one of the animals to sup from.
I was very careful to make sure the thin partition between the cattle and the sleeping men was firmly in place. Only one other time had anyone witnessed my feeding. Two Hessians had chanced upon me just as I'd finished with blood smeared 'round my mouth and my eyes flushed red, presenting an alarming sight to them and a depressing aftermath for me. Blutsauger, one of them had cried in his fear. I hadn't liked the sound of that appellation, but was more or less used to it by now. There were worse things to be than a bloodsucker in the literal sense . . . such as being one of those damned rebels.
Calming an animal was the work of a moment, then I dropped to one knee and felt for the vein in its leg. Conditions weren't exactly clean here, but that could be remedied with a little water. My God, we were surrounded by the stuff. All that was needed was to pay one of the sailors to try his hand at grooming.
Such were my thoughts as my corner teeth lengthened enough to cut through the flesh and reach the red fountain beneath. I hadn't fed from cattle for some time, preferring horses. Shorter hair, you know. The taste of the blood was nearly the same, though my senses were keen to the point that I could tell the difference between the two as easily as a normal man knows ale from beer.
I managed to choke down a few swallows and they stayed down, but only under protest. It was the same as it would be for any other person with the seasickness; food might be necessary, but not especially welcome.
I pinched the vein above the broken skin until the bleeding stopped, then rinsed my stained fingers in the dregs at the bottom of a slimy water bucket hanging in a corner. Well, something would have to be done about that. I'd paid plenty of good money for their care, which included keeping them adequately supplied with water. From the condition of the straw on the deck one could tell that they'd long since passed whatever had been in the bucket.
A quick search for more water was futile. Perhaps it was kept under lock and key like the crew's daily tot of rum. A note to Jericho or Elizabeth would sort things out.
I was about to quit the place and hazard the maze back to my cabin when I heard the achingly familiar snort of a horse. None of the other passengers had mentioned bringing stock aboard, though they'd all commented on my endeavor. Reactions varied from humor to curiosity at the eccentricity. Strange that no one had . . . whose horse was it?
Opening the partition between this stable and the next solved the little mystery. Inside, snug in his own stall, was Roily. His ears were pricked toward me, his nostrils quivering to catch my scent.
Now was I flooded with understanding on why Father had said nothing about what was to be done about this, my special pet. He must have put himself to some trouble to arrange this last-minute surprise. God bless him and his accomplices. Elizabeth and Jericho had not given away the least clue.
I went in and lavished a warm greeting upon Roily, rubbing between his ears and all down his neck; that was when I discovered a scroll of paper tied to his mane with a ribbon. A note?
A note. I cracked open the drop of sealing wax holding the ribbon to the paper and unrolled the brief missive.
My dear Jonathan,
I hope you will forgive me for this liberty with your property, but I deemed the risk to be worth the taking. I know how much Roily means to you, and it would be a cruel thing to bear for you to have to give him up because of my plan to leave. Bereft as we are now of the influence you have over the commissary, it is not likely that so fine an animal could long escape their future notice.
He has sufficient food to keep him for the duration of even a lengthy voyage. Remember that throughout that time he will miss his usual exercise, so take care to bring him back to it gently once you're in England.
In prayer for a safe journey with God's blessings for all of you,
Your Loving Father.
The writing swam before my eyes. For the first time since awakening, a warmth stole over me. God bless you, too, sir, I thought, wiping my wet cheeks with my sleeve.
I spent an hour or more with Roily, checking him over, petting and talking to him, letting him know why he was where he was. Whether he understood or not was of no importance, he was a good listener, and sharing his company was a much better distraction than conversation with Mr. Quinton. I discovered Roily's tack and other things stowed in a box and filled the time by brushing him down and combing his mane and tail out until they were as smooth and shining as the rest of his coat. A groom's chore, yes, but for me it was pleasure, not work.
Having seen to his comfort and taken some for myself, I was ready to return topside and see how the night was faring. With occupation came forgetfulness and I had to keep track of the time, being determined to forevermore avoid further panicked diving into cellars to escape the dawn.
I had naught to fear; upon emerging, one glance at the sky told me that the greater part of the night still remained. It had to be but a glance; the sight of the masts swaying drunkenly against the background of the more stationary stars brought back the dizziness in full force. Shutting my eyes made things worse. Would to God this misery would pass away. I made a meandering path to the rail and held on for dear life, gulping air and cursing my weakness.
There was soon something else to curse when a wayward gust of wind splashed half a bucket of sea spray in my face. Ugh. I swatted at it, clearing my eyes and sputtering. It was colder than iron.
"Wind's freshening," said one of the ship's officers, by way of a comment on my condition as he strolled past. "Best to find some cover or you'll be drenched right through, sir."
Thanking him, I made a last look around, which convinced me that no further distractions were to be found this night—unless I wanted more chill water slapped in my face. Better to be seasick and dry than seasick and wet. I went below.
Jericho had left the cabin's small lamp burning for my return. He was deeply asleep in his cot jammed against the opposite wall. I was glad that he was getting some rest and took care to be quiet while slipping off my damp clothes. Not quite knowing what to do with them, I left them piled on the traveling box, then gratefully climbed into my own bed.
The presence of my home earth delivered an instant comfort so overwhelming that I wondered whatever had possessed me to leave it in the first place. Until this moment I hadn't realized how much I needed it, and lying back, I finally identified the feeling that had been creeping up on me for the last few hours, one that I'd not had since before my death: I was sleepy.
I'd known what it was to be tired, known all its forms, from the fatigue of a dark and discouraged spirit, to the weary satisfaction that stems from accomplishing a difficult task. Much had happened in the last year, but not once had my eyes dragged shut of their own accord as they were doing now.
Damned strange, that.
But so wonderfully pleasant.
To escape into sleep . . . I'd thought that luxury forever lost because of the changes I'd been through.
Out of old habit rather than necessity, I made a deep inhalation and sighed it out again, pulling the blankets up to my chin. Oh, but this felt good; my dizziness and bad belly were finally loosening their grip on my beleaguered frame. The earth-filled bags I rested on were lumpy and hard, but at the same time still made the most comfortable bed I'd ever known. I rolled on my side, punched the pillow once to get it just right . . .
And then someone was tugging at my shoulder and calling my name most urgently.
Damnation, I thought, then said it aloud. "What is it?"
"Don't you want to get up, Mr. Jonathan?" Jericho asked.
"I just got to bed. Let me finish what I've started."
"But it's long past sunset," he insisted.
Ridiculous. But he was probably right or he wouldn't be bothering me. I pried my eyes open. The cabin looked the same as before, or nearly so. If his cot had not been made up and my clothes neatly laid out on the box, I would have had good cause for continued annoyance.
"Miss Elizabeth's been by to ask after you. She thought you might still be ailing from the seasickness."
