Land of the Free (27 page)

“No.” She took a deep
breath. “What do David and your sailor friends think of the Battle
of Trafalgar?”

“They’re awed by the British
might and they mourn the death of Horatio Nelson.”

“And you? What do you
think?”

“I think that we owe the
French a debt for killing Nelson and that we should build our
defenses while the British are still engaged with
Napoleon.”

She nodded. “The English
just can’t seem to get it through their thick skulls that we are a
free and sovereign nation.”

“We’ll have to demonstrate
that to them again, I fear.”

Rachael looked into her
coffee cup for a moment before looking back at her grandson. “What
are your plans, Yank?”

“Plans?”

“Yes. For yourself and your
family.”

“Plans. Well, I’ll be on
leave until after Christmas.”

“Will you be staying with me
for Christmas or with Tom and Nannette?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about
it. What do you think?”

She smiled. “There’s no
place like home for Christmas.”

“Will you come if we
go?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s
settled.”

“Why don’t you go up and see
your wife and baby?”

“I think I’d rather just
wait until Marina comes down.”

“Was the journey difficult
with all this weather?” Rachael asked, after a long, uncomfortable
silence.

“Not bad.”

“Of all trips I made with or
to see your grandfather, that was the one I hated most.”

“It isn’t the same now. The
W.I.L.N.C. has done a marvelous job.”

“Remind me what W.I.L.N.C.
stands for.”

“The Western Inland Lock
Navigation Company.”

“Ah. Yes. The group that
President Washington appointed to dig canals.”

He nodded. “They’ve created
an uninterrupted waterway all the way to Lake Ontario.”

“No portage from Albany to
Schenectady?”

“No portage anywhere, unless
the ice is too thick to break.”

“In what kind of vessels?
Bateaus?”

“No. Sixty foot Durham boats
that can carry fifteen tons.”

“And they can break through
the ice?”

“Like the Hudson River
double hulled schooners, they have booms on their bows with huge
iron weights that they drop to break up the flow and iron plates to
push through the chunks. I returned from Lake Ontario to New York
through a blizzard and never got my feet wet.”

She smiled. “Isn’t that
simply amazing?”

“The expansion of our
country is going to explode, Grandmother. My children will see new
states and territories all the way to the Pacific.”

“If Lewis and Clark find a
northwest passage.”

“A northwest passage is
irrelevant, Grandmother. Marina and I followed a southern route
overland and we learned of four other passes through the Rockies.
The future of America is in the west. If we can live up to it,
someday we’ll be the greatest nation in the world.”

December 24,
1805

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

The house was asleep except
for Yank and Marina who were on the couch in front of the
fireplace. She had her feet pulled up and was curled under his arm
while her fingers played with the needles of the decorated pine
tree that stood beside the couch. “I’ve never even heard of a
Christmas tree before.”

“The Prussian soldiers
decorated them on the Christmas Eve before the Battle of Trenton.
My father, who was rarely impressed by anything frivolous, thought
it was a beautiful tradition so our family adopted it.”

“That was the winter of
‘76?”

“Yes. When my father crossed
the Delaware with Washington.” He looked at the tree, then at the
fire. “I envy those men.”

“What men?”

“The men that were there. My
father, Washington, Madison, Hamilton, Monroe.”

“Why?”

“They had a noble
cause.”

“And you don’t?”

“Listen to this and you tell
me.” He took a letter from his pocket, unfolded it and turned so he
could read it by the dim firelight. “Flags were given to my people,
and they were told they were now the children of the Americans. We
were told, if any white people mean to harm you, hold up these
flags and you will then be safe from all danger. We did this in
good faith. But what happened? Our beloved chief Moluntha stood
with the American flag in front of him and that very peace treaty
in his hand, but his head was chopped by a American officer, and
that American officer was never punished. Brother, after such
bitter events, can you blame me for placing little confidence in
the promises of Americans?”

“Who wrote that?”

“A Shawnee named
Tecumseh.”

“He writes well.”

“He also writes the truth.
It shames me to read it.”

“You have nothing to be
ashamed of, John. You haven’t betrayed anyone.”

“Actually, I have. When I
was with General Wayne, before the Treaty of Greenville was signed,
I foolishly agreed to become the blood brother of the principal
Shawnee civil chief. Now I’ve married outside the tribe without
permission and all the Indians in the Northwest Territories think
I’ve dishonored my vows.”

“Posh. You were a whole
continent away when we were married. All we have to do is speak to
this blood brother of yours and explain.”

“Marina. It isn’t that
simple.”

“It is that simple. There
have never been hostilities between any southwestern tribes and
his, so he must grant permission to us. It is a universal
law.”

“I don’t think you quite
grasp the problem. The Ohio Country is very far away. You can’t
possible go there with me.”

“I know exactly where it is
and it isn’t as far as El Paso. What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“This chief who is your
blood-brother?”

“Catecahassa.”

“Black Hoof?”

“Do you speak
Shawnee?”

“Algonquian. It must be
similar. Does Black Hoof live in a village or are his people
nomadic?”

“Why?”

“If we know where we’re
going we can probably leave soon, but if we’re going to have to
search for them we should wait until spring.”

“Wait, wait. Before you
start planning a trip: What about the babies?”

“They’ll be fine here with
your aunt or in New York with your grandmother’s clan.”

“You should think about
this, Marina.”

She looked at him. “There
really isn’t any choice, John. It’s a matter of honor.”

He looked away from her,
into the flickering fire.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say that. I can see
that something’s gnawing at you.”

“A soldier that I know,”
Yank stammered. “No, he’s more Indian – his name is William
Wells.”

Marina waited. “Yes? What
about him?”

“He said that he couldn’t
respect a man who cannot manage his wife.”

She blinked.
“What?”

“Never mind.” He shook his
head.

She stared at him for
several seconds. “Did I offend you with what I just said about
honor?”

“No.”

“What then?”

He shook his
head.

“John.”

He took a breath. “There are
rumors, Marina. Vicious rumors that I reject intellectually,
but…”

“About me?”

“Yes. You and a naval
officer called Percy.”

“Captain Alexander
Percy.”

“Yes.”

“What is your
question?”

“Must I kill
him?”

“I would much rather that
you didn’t, but who am I to throw honor in your face with one
sentence and deny it with the next?”

“Perhaps you would prefer it
if he killed me.”

“Don’t be a fool, John. You
cannot doubt my love for you.”

“I’m told that he seems
quite certain that you would marry him if it was not for
me.”

“If he kills you I swear
before almighty God that I will murder him, go to the gallows and
leave our children orphans. How’s that?”

“A bit overly dramatic, I
should think.”

“It was said in absolute
earnest.”

“I dislike the idea.
Withdraw your oath.”

“No.”

“Hmm. Then I must be careful
to avoid being killed by him.”

“Then you intend to
challenge him?”

“No. I will insult him and
make him challenge me.”

“What difference does that
make?”

“It gives me the choice of
weapons. I am a master of the smallsword.”

“That hardly matters if they
hang you.”

“I can defeat him without
harming a hair on his pretty head.”

“John.”

“Think no more on the
subject.”

“John.”

“The subject is closed for
discussion, Marina.”

“Ha. Is that what you call
managing your wife?”

“It is indeed. Press me
further and you shall put me in a foul mood and spoil Christmas for
everyone.”

December 28,
1805

Weehawken, New
Jersey

Captains David Van Buskirk
and Stephen Decatur shook hands then together began pacing off a
twenty foot square, marking each corner with a
handkerchief.

“I was unaware until this
very moment that my chief second was also your cousin, Colonel Van
Buskirk,” Lieutenant Percy called from the fog.

Yank and his other three
seconds ignored him but Decatur turned around abruptly. “If you
believe that I might betray you in some way, Captain Percy, I will
withdraw and we will postpone this meeting until you can secure
more trustworthy seconds. Then, if you are not killed by my cousin,
I shall demand satisfaction.”

“My comment was not intended
to impugn your integrity, Captain Decatur,” Percy answered. “It was
simply a statement of fact.”

“If it makes you feel any
better, we’re related to nearly everyone in New York and New
Jersey.” Decatur went on with his task.

“This whole thing is
ridiculous,” Percy said whipping his smallsword through the air.
“Who duels with swords in this day and age?”

“The challenged man has his
choice of weapons,” Captain Van Buskirk replied.

“I thought that meant the
choice of pistols.”

“You were incorrect.”
Captain Van Buskirk walked back to the combatants. “Have you agreed
upon the condition of the duel?”

“They have not been
discussed,” Yank replied, “but I suggest that we continue until the
physicians determine that one or both of us cannot.”

“I say to the death,” Percy
replied.

“Or until one of us
apologizes,” Yank suggested.

Captain Van Buskirk waited a
moment then when Percy said nothing more, he stepped back. “Each of
you will begin at opposite edges of the square. A man who leaves
the square will be judged a coward and the loser. If a blade is
broken, a timeout will be called until the weapon has been
replaced. Combat will begin when I drop this handkerchief and will
end when one of you is dead or one of you apologizes.” He raised
the handkerchief. “Take your positions.” He waited until the two
men were at the edges of the square and let it fall.

Percy rushed across the
square, hacking and slashing.

Yank backed away slowly,
catching Percy’s blade easily until the younger man began to tire.
“It is now time to apologize, Lieutenant.”

“No taunting,” Decatur
admonished.

Yank flipped his wrist and
Percy’s weapon went flying.

Percy’s eyes were wide but
he bravely stood his ground waiting for the thrust that would kill
him.

“What do we do now, David?”
Yank asked. “Must I skewer this lad in cold blood?”

“You may grant him
permission to retrieve his weapon,” Captain Van Buskirk
replied.

Yank saluted Percy with his
sword. “Permission is granted. Fetch your sword,
Lieutenant.”

Percy found the sword and
this time approached more cautiously.

Yank feinted, then when
Percy moved to block, he slashed the back of the young lieutenant’s
hand. When Percy dropped his sword, Yank put his foot on Percy’s
blade and the point of his sword inches from Percy’s face. “You
have my permission to pick it up. But, unless you’re very much
better with your left hand than you are with your right, I wouldn’t
suggest it.”

“No taunting,” Decatur
shouted.