Valley Forge (23 page)

"How can you put a battle on stage?" asked Miranda.

"Shakespeare did it all the time, my dear."

"Even he might have difficulty portraying the action in Brooklyn."

"From what I gathered," said Proudfoot, "the play is an excuse to attack General Washington and drag his name through the mud. It's a cruel satire and—according to the drunken lieutenant—it's very comical. He saw it when his regiment was stationed in New York."

Hughes was pensive. "Cruel and comical, eh?" he said. "Slander against George Washington. Perhaps the performance should not go ahead uninterrupted.
We
can be cruel and comical, if we choose."

The picket squads at Valley Forge were placed half a mile apart and a sentry would patrol the intervening space until he met his counterpart from the next squad. The men would exchange a greeting, talk for a few minutes, then head back to their respective posts. Private Novus Kane hated picket duty. It was cold, lonely, unrewarding work. Kane, a short, undernourished, lantern-jawed youth from Virginia, had left his job on a farm for the promise of excitement in battle, and regretted his decision ever since. He had experienced more terror than excitement on a battlefield, and seemed to have spent his whole army career in retreat. It made him despondent.

When dawn came that morning, he was plodding back to his post yet again, body sagging and mind vacant. The first time the thickets rustled, he did not even hear the noise. It was louder the second time and Kane could not ignore it. Unslinging his musket, he pointed it in the direction from which the sound had come.

"Who goes there?" he demanded in a quavering voice.

Nobody replied but the thickets began to shake slightly.

"Come out or I'll shoot!"

Isolated from his companions, and exhausted by the long night on duty, Kane barely had the strength to hold his weapon still. But he knew his duty and he knew what his sergeant would say if he failed in it. He swallowed hard, then tried to put some firmness into his tone.

"This is your last warning—come out now!"

The thickets shook more violently, as if in mockery. Kane could stand no more suspense. Finger around the trigger, he pulled hard, only to hear a dull click as the flint failed to ignite. He looked at his musket in despair, then he backed away from the thickets. After he had gone a few yards, a pistol was thrust against the side of his head.

"Where is General Washington?" whispered a voice.

"At his h-h-h-headquarters," stuttered Kane.

"Take me there," said Jamie Skoyles. "And afterward, I'll show you how to load that musket properly."

George Washington had just finished an early breakfast when his servant brought word of an unexpected visitor. The general was so intrigued by what he was told that he put his napkin aside and went to the door himself. Outside, in the fresh morning air, was a curious sight. Watched by the anxious young private in a tattered uniform, a man in hunting clothes and a wide-brimmed hat was loading a musket with remarkable dexterity. He handed the weapon back to the open-mouthed sentry.

"There, my friend," he said. "You'll be able to kill me next time."

"Thank you, sir," mumbled the other.

Becoming aware of Washington's presence, the man doffed his hat.

"Captain Jamie Skoyles at your service, General," he said.

Washington studied him. "From a British regiment, I am told."

"The 24th Foot."

"And what are you doing here, Captain Skoyles?"

"Testing your security," said Skoyles, "and finding it wanting. Because my young friend here knew the password, we were able to get past every guard to the very door of your headquarters. Do not blame him, sir," he continued, extracting the pistol from his belt, "because he had this in his back all the time." He offered the butt of the weapon to Washington. "Take it, General—as a show of good faith on my part."

"What other weapon do you carry?" asked the other warily as he received the pistol. "Do you have something else concealed about you?"

"Nothing." Skoyles lifted both hands in the air and turned in a circle. "Let this young fellow search me, if you wish."

"I do wish." He flicked a glance at Kane. "Search him."

"Yes, General," said the private.

Flustered at being in the presence of his commanding officer, Kane tried to rest his musket against the side of the house but it fell over. He then patted Skoyles hesitantly as he felt for a hidden weapon.

"Nothing, sir," he confirmed.

"Thank you," said Washington. "What is the purpose of your visit, Captain Skoyles? Am I to take it that you have come here to surrender?"

"No, General," replied Skoyles, "but I hope, in time, to effect the surrender of the British army—with your assistance, of course."

"I was informed that you had come to help me."

"And so I can."

"How?"

"For a start, I bring you greetings from Major General Charles Lee."

"You've
seen
him?"

"I spent a day and night with the fellow."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"He began by making disparaging remarks about you, sir."

Washington stifled a smile. "That sounds like him," he conceded. He looked at Kane. "Get back to your post and be more alert next time."

"Yes, General," said the sentry, backing away gratefully.

"And you had better come inside, Captain Skoyles."

"Thank you, sir."

Skoyles followed him into the house and had his first look at the headquarters of the Continental Army. Compared to the sizable house occupied by General Howe in Philadelphia, the place seemed ridiculously small and cluttered. With the pistol on the desk in front of him, Washington sat down. He deliberately kept Skoyles standing.

"Now, sir," he began. "Explain yourself. There are easier ways to reach me than by that little performance you staged out there. A letter would have been a more acceptable form of introduction, so that I knew what to expect."

"Letters can fall into the wrong hands," said Skoyles, "as I think you know only too well."

"I do not follow you."

"I have the highest respect for you, General, but Charles Lee does not share it. He is a man of intemperate language. Something he once wrote about you fell into your hands by mistake."

"True," said Washington, piqued by the memory, "but it told me nothing about him that I did not already know. Brilliant soldier he may be, but General Lee is an awkward comrade. He never gives credit to anyone but himself. We fought together in the British army many years ago. When he returned to America, therefore," he continued, "it was natural that he should first look to me for hospitality. Charles was a restless guest, to put no finer point on it, and he brought a pack of yapping dogs with him. When he finally left, he borrowed twenty dollars from me." He gave a wan smile. "I'm not sure that he ever paid it back."

"Having met him, I would doubt it."

"And where did this encounter take place?"

"In the suite of rooms he occupies in City Hall, New York City."

"Why were you given access to him?"

"Because I convinced Governor Clinton that I might be able to coax some useful information out of him. General Lee was far too cunning for his interrogators," said Skoyles. "They questioned him dozens of times and got nothing of value from him. I pointed out that he would only confide in someone he recognized as a friend."

"And did he recognize you as such?"

"Eventually, after he tried to throttle me."

"Yes," said Washington. "Charles does have a violent streak."

"He also has a gift for bad language. I served in the ranks, General, and met plenty of foulmouthed corporals and sergeants. None of them could have touched General Lee."

"And yet he is such a cultured man."

"I know. He talked at length about Rousseau, and he kept quoting Plutarch at me as if he had known the man personally."

"It's obvious that you spent time with him, Captain, but you haven't explained how you managed to gain his confidence."

"The easiest way possible," said Skoyles.

"And what is that?"

"By telling him the truth."

Skoyles repeated the story he had told Lee, inventing an escape from Cambridge made possible by the connivance of rebel guards. After his incarceration with Lee, he was able to divulge intelligence that the British army had failed to get out of the prisoners, but held back anything of real substance. Washington was still not persuaded. He had heard too many plausible tales from men who claimed to support American aspirations while really seeking to undermine them. Skoyles was aware of the general's misgivings.

"Do not take my word for it, sir," he said. "I know that you are able to smuggle letters to General Lee. Ask him to vouch for me."

"I will."

"And remind him that he owes you twenty dollars."

"He's hardly in a position to repay that particular debt," said Washington drily. "You're an enterprising man, Captain Skoyles, and not afraid to take risks. In entering Valley Forge the way you did, you could easily have got yourself shot."

"Not by a sentry whose powder was damp."

"You could not rely on that fact."

"Granted," said Skoyles, "but I had something else in my favor. A guard who had been on duty all night would be tired and easier to fool. All that I had to do was to create a simple diversion."

"There are more sensible ways to get my attention."

"I preferred a direct approach, General. I didn't wish to tell my tale to endless subordinates before I even got near you. I had to seize my opportunity," said Skoyles. "I'm on my way to Philadelphia to join the British army there. It
was much better to meet you
before
I reach the city than afterward. General Howe may have work for me that precludes an early visit to Valley Forge."

"I'm certain that he will employ you, Captain," said Washington. "Everything tells me that you're a remarkably good soldier. My fear is that you may also be a remarkably good liar."

"You're right to have doubts about me, General."

"Can you give me one good reason why I should trust you?"

"Not until you put me to the test."

"Test?"

"Deeds speak louder than words," said Skoyles. "Wait and see what I'm able to do for you first, and then judge me. Is that fair?"

"Extremely fair."

"Then all I need is a means to get messages to you."

"Slow down, Captain," warned the other. "I'm not putting you in touch with anyone until I know much more about you. I can see that you're a trained soldier, through and through. How long have you been in the army, where have you served, and how did you rise from the ranks to get a commission?"

Skoyles gave him a succinct account of his military career, starting with the moment when, as a youth, he had left his home in Cumberland to join the army, and detailing every campaign in which he had taken part. Suitably impressed, Washington was also quizzical.

"Throughout your life," he said, "you fought for King and Country."

"I was a loyal servant of the Crown," Skoyles admitted.

"At what point did you cease to be one?"

"There was no point as such, General. My feelings slowly changed over a period of time. To begin with, I have a natural affinity with America. It calls to me. There's nothing for me back in England. When the war is over, I hope to buy land and settle here."

"You could still do that if the British force us to surrender."

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd not be a free man in a free land," argued Skoyles. "I'd be one more American colonist who had to pay taxes to a corrupt government back in England."

"Does that notion offend you?"

"It turns my stomach, sir. I believe in basic human freedoms."

"And where did you pick up these ideas?"

"From various friends I've met in America."

"What about your friends back in England?"

"I've been away too long for them even to remember me, General. My world is here now. I ran away to enlist in order to escape the future that was planned for me."

"By whom?"

"My father," replied Skoyles. "He was a country doctor, and so were his own father and grandfather. I was the next in line."

"Medicine is a worthy profession."

"But it offered no thrill for an exuberant lad."

"I think there's a greater thrill in curing people than killing them."

"That may be the case, but it's an argument that had no appeal for a lively boy of fourteen. Had I stayed in Cumberland," said Skoyles with no hint of regret, "I could have had a nice, comfortable, uneventful life and been respected in the community. But I'd never have felt my blood pulse at the sights I've seen in America. I'd never have been exhilarated."

"Is that the only thing turned your mind in our direction?" said Washington cynically. "A fondness for scenery?"

"It gave me a vision of what was possible, General."

"Only if we win the war."

"Oh, you will," Skoyles contended. "It may take time but you'll prevail in the end. General Howe has conceded that by tendering his resignation. Did you know that he's ready to go home?"

"Yes, Captain."

"You should see it as a small victory."

"Howe can easily be replaced."

"Not by General Burgoyne," said the other bitterly. "He blighted his chances forever of securing the supreme command. I was part of the army that invaded from Canada, and I watched him make mistake after mistake. In the end, I lost all confidence in him. He
squandered
men," Skoyles went on. "He sent them needlessly to an early grave. You try to protect your soldiers. You would rather hit and run than sacrifice too many lives pointlessly."

Washington sighed. "We lost a lot of men at Brandywine."

"But you've saved many more in other battles you fought."

"I had to, Captain. Our resources are very limited. I have to harbor them." Still undecided about his visitor's honesty, he picked up the pistol from the desk and examined it. "It's loaded."

"And the powder is dry," said Skoyles. "I also reloaded that musket for the sentry. In other words, I had two weapons with which I could easily have killed the commander in chief of the Continental Army." He met Washington's gaze. "If I'd been a loyal British soldier, do you think I've had missed such a glorious chance?"