War (30 page)

Hunt grinned. “I have read the literature, sir. I have plans for Mr. Kenrick. He has been known to me for years.”

Cullis frowned in confusion. “How, sir?” He knew that the man had appeared only recently in their lives.

“My secret,” replied Hunt.

Cullis merely blinked in astonishment.

Carver Gramatan spoke up. “There are also Mr. Frake’s cronies to consider, Mr. Hunt. Jock Fraser, who is a middling planter here. And that damned Indian, John Proudlocks. He inherited the late Mr. Reisdale’s estate, in contravention of Virginia law. Both men accompanied Mr. Frake to Boston. It would be quite galling to allow them the freedom to stir up more disaffection.”

“Will your committee deal with them?” asked Hunt.

“After we have dealt with Mr. Frake,” said Cullis. “They will be similarly charged. When do you plan to seize Morland Hall, sir?”

“Soon after you have dealt with the man,” answered Hunt. “We must be orderly about this, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” said Reece Vishonn. “Order, peace, and loyalty are our paramount concerns.”

“Amen,” said Reverend Acland.

“One last matter before we adjourn, gentlemen,” said Hunt. “Mr. Vishonn — can your lawful militia be counted on to preserve that order, peace and loyalty?”

“Yes, sir. They are likewise content with Crown authority, and worry lest turmoil upset their lives and livelihoods. Many of them have confided that unless order is restored here, they will remove themselves to England, or Canada, or some other law-abiding venue.”

“And welcome they would be there, if they must resort to that extremity!” chuckled Hunt. “However, we must all work to ensure that they needn’t so trouble themselves. I think we share that determination, and I shall write His Excellency about — ”

A man opened the door to the room and rushed in. It was George Roane, the under-sheriff. He removed his hat and worried the brim with nervous hands. “Excuse me, sirs, but I have…news.”

“What?” demanded Hunt, displeased with the interruption.

Roane gulped and addressed Hunt. “I was guarding the jail, and Mrs. Tippet and Clemsy our servant was preparing a meal for Mr. Frake — ”

“What
news
?” insisted Sheriff Tippet, alarmed by Roane’s presence.

“Mr. Fraser, and Mr. Proudlocks, and several men came with arms and freed Mr. Frake! They took the keys from me and bound me and Clemsy and Mrs. Tippet up in the house! Not two hours ago! Then they rode off!” He glanced apologetically at his superior, Sheriff Tippet, and looked at the floor. “We shouted for help, but no one heard, sir. It took me an hour to
loosen my ropes, and then I released Mrs. Tippet and Clemsy, and then I rode here straight away, where you said you’d be. They’re in such a state! I am sorry, sir. But we was taken by surprise!”

“The scoundrels!” exclaimed Carver Gramatan.

“What evil audacity!” sputtered Reverend Acland.

Sheriff Tippet rose and confronted his subordinate. “Was Muriel harmed?” he asked about his wife.

“No, sir! Just affrighted. They took care to tie her up gentle like. Clemsy, too. With me, they weren’t so gentle. Got rope burns on my wrists.”

Edgar Cullis rose and asked, “Was Mr. Kenrick among those men, Mr. Roane?”

“No, sir,” answered Roane, surprised that anyone should include the master of Meum Hall in the crime.

Jared Hunt clucked his tongue. He rose and looked sternly at his company. “Sirs, this is not good. I say that you see to your duties this very moment, while I see to mine.”

“What duties, Mr. Hunt?” asked Reece Vishonn, startled by the news, but more perplexed by the meaning of Hunt’s command.

Hunt took one last gulp from the tankard of ale in front of him, then picked up his hat and put it on. “Why, the duties of a committee of safety! Behave like one! Assert your authority! Recapture Mr. Frake, and find his friends, and lock them all up, and post a militia guard on them! If you can manage that, I will stay for the trial and hangings.”

“And you, sir?” asked Cullis. “What will you do?”

“I am back to Hampton. And then I shall sail up to Caxton, to see that justice is done. If you people can’t manage it, I certainly intend to.” With that, the Inspector Extraordinary of the Customs turned and stalked out of the room.

O
n the day of Jack Frake’s arrest and imprisonment, John Proudlocks rode from Meum Hall, first back to Caxton to call briefly on Lydia Heathcoate, the seamstress, to assure her that he was well, and then on to Jock Fraser’s place, to organize with that man the rescue of Jack Frake. Until Proudlocks appeared on his plantation and roused him from a sound sleep, Fraser had been ignorant of his superior’s arrest.

After Fraser finished cursing individually each member of the committee of safety, he calmed down enough to listen to Proudlocks’s plan.

“It’s a good plan, sir. And I know a farmer up at West Point who would take Jack in until things are cleared up.”

“Good,” said Proudlocks.

“And any man in the Company will help us in the work.”

“This is true,” answered Proudlocks. He sat in a rattan chair on the porch of Fraser’s modest house, watching his host pace back and forth on the floorboards. He seemed to be waiting.

Then Fraser stopped and frowned in realization. “But, good God, man! If we do this, they’ll lay the charge on us, as well! Have you thought of that?”

Proudlocks nodded. “It has occurred to me.”

“We couldn’t come home again! They’d come after us!”

Proudlocks cocked his head in concession. “They might,” he said. “But, they might not, if the Company opposed them. I do not think Mr. Vishonn’s new militia is either as numerous as our Company, or as eager or ready to fight.” He raised a finger to make a point. “The two most powerful men on the committee are Mr. Cullis and Reverend Acland. They have an unsavory dislike of Mr. Frake, and wish to see him dead, or at least severely punished. Sheriff Tippet and Mayor Corbin are merely perpetuating their positions. I do not think their hearts are in the matter. Mr. Vishonn?” He shrugged in disgust. “He has fantasies of reclaiming his patents over the mountains, and reopening his mine, and reliving the ease of the past, all by grace of the Crown.”

Fraser stood for a while to consider these observations. He asked, “Does Mr. Kenrick know? About Mr. Frake, that is?”

“Yes. And I believe he will approve of our action. But we must not implicate him in it. He must remain free.” Proudlocks did not mention the contention between Hugh Kenrick and Jack Frake.

“Why?”

“To advise us of the enemy’s doings. That enemy now, besides Governor Dunmore, is some of our own countrymen.”

“But once the deed is done, sir, how can we stop the committee from harming us, or our property?”

“I shall compose a letter to be left on Mr. Cullis’s and Mr. Vishonn’s doorsteps, warning them that any action taken against us, or any further action taken against Mr. Frake, will invite…reciprocation. In it I shall assert that the sole legal power in this colony, given Governor Dunmore’s abdication, now resides in the Virginia Convention, presently meeting in Richmond town, and that Mr. Vishonn’s committee of safety is extralegal and will be held accountable for its actions, when order is restored here.”

Fraser shook his head and sighed. “Sounds like anarchy, sir. No good can come from it, I’m afraid.”

“I am afraid we are in a political…what is that word?…a political purgatory, until the Convention can assert its authority. We must defend ourselves the best we can until then.”

Fraser hummed in concession of this point. “Have you informed Mr. Frake of this plan?”

Proudlocks shook his head. “No. I merely assured him that he will be free again. Sheriff Tippet was standing outside the door. Mr. Robbins and Mr. Hurry had been there, but Jack sent them home to await events and go about their business. It was Henry Buckle who told me what had happened. He had gone to town to purchase some wares. And it is Henry I shall send round with my letter.” He paused. “I do not recommend that you go to town to see Jack. You might be arrested, as well.”

“Why weren’t you?”

Proudlocks laughed. “I am now Sheriff Tippet’s attorney. And Mayor Corbin’s. I inherited their affairs from Mr. Reisdale’s practice. At least, they have regarded me as their attorney.”

* * *

As the committee of safety rode back to Caxton, Reverend Acland, riding a mount loaned to him by Carver Gramatan from his inn stables — and who
was surprised that the minister could ride at all — lectured the others on Hugh Kenrick. “You must concede that his offenses are as many and craven as Mr. Frake’s. I have not seen a penny in tithe from him, either. He freed his slaves, in defiance of the law. He has frequently spoken treason in the Assembly, as Mr. Cullis can attest. He has written treasonous tracts. He has obstructed officers in the commission of their duties, thrice to my recollection. He attended that illegal assembly in New York some years ago, representing himself as a delegate from this colony, if I am not mistaken. He has never attended services in my church, in defiance of the law. He married a disreputable woman. And, I am certain that his prosperity flouts the legal precepts of fairness and equity. That has been his career in these parts. If the information provided me by my correspondents in England is to be credited, his career there can be described as no less than that of a renegade.”

“We shall see justice done to him, as well, Reverend,” said Edgar Cullis. “Have no fear. But, one renegade at a time, sir. We have limited means at our disposal, and it is a delicate situation.”

Vishonn volunteered, “True enough! If it were not for Mr. Hunt’s assurances and encouragement, we should not be able to act at all. We shall govern only on the sufferance of our county’s citizens. We should do nothing that will provoke any resentment against us. We must be cautious.”

“Once justice has been served on Mr. Frake,” said Carver Gramatan, “there will be no question of the legitimacy of our authority. Prosecuting Mr. Frake may seem an outlandish and risky thing to do, but it will serve to establish our authority in the strongest terms. And, as you have just now pointed out, Mr. Vishonn, we will have the support of Mr. Hunt and his authority. I see few difficulties ahead of us.”

“It must be impressed on both of them that there is a higher authority than their own reason and vaunted liberty,” insisted the minister, who was still contemplating the fates of his two nemeses. “And on others, too. That authority is God, His Majesty, and Parliament, in that order.”

Cullis frowned. The minister was beginning to annoy him. He said, “Dear sir, the committee must announce its authority and intentions. I propose that we leave it to you to compose that decree.”

“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Cullis,” replied Acland brightly. He smiled in anticipation of the task. Mayor Corbin, who was riding beside him, blinked in astonishment; no one in Caxton had ever seen the minister smile before.

The other men readily agreed to this proposal.

Cullis himself smiled. He recalled the note that Hugh Kenrick had sent him two days ago, a note that was pedantic and insulting in its implications. He turned to address the men riding behind him. “We are the sun, sirs, and shall decide when it is day and when it is night.”

Reece Vishonn, who had read some books, suddenly and worriedly frowned as he remembered the story of Canute, the eleventh-century Danish king of England who, in a failed demonstration of his omnipotence, ordered the tides to cease. But he said nothing. He hoped most earnestly that the committee of safety would be exempted from such an embarrassing phenomenon. And, in lieu of the setback of Jack Frake’s rescue from jail, he could only wonder at the attorney’s levity.

Some hours later, the committee rode boldly into Caxton and visited the jail. Mrs. Tippet, who was left alone by George Roane and had armed herself with her husband’s musket, immediately came out of her house and handed her husband a letter delivered by Henry Buckle not an hour before. Buckle, they knew, was John Proudlocks’s cooper, and was not a member of the Company that went to Boston. When Sheriff Tippet opened and read the letter, he gasped and passed it on to Edgar Cullis, who in turn passed it around to his colleagues.

They immediately repaired to the Gramatan Inn for another meeting on what to do. After much loud and frustrating debate, they decided, in order to assert their authority, and on Carver Gramatan’s suggestion, to close Steven Safford’s tavern, noting that it harbored rebels and encouraged unlawful assemblies against the Crown. Safford’s Arms was a less formidable foe than were Jack Frake and the Company. Sheriff Tippet volunteered that Safford had been late in paying the most recent tax assessments, as well.

“What about Fern’s?” asked Gramatan, referring to a disreputable tavern close to the bluff that overlooked the riverfront.

“It is patronized by hands from the ships and the river trade and other low fellows,” said Vishonn. “It is better to leave them some place to go, for otherwise your fine establishment here will be crowded with them, and we should be reluctant to favor you with our custom.”

“Excellent point, sir,” agreed Gramatan, liking not only the idea, but the way in which it was put.

And when Edgar Cullis and Reece Vishonn returned to their homes, they found letters waiting for them, as well, identical in wording to the one
received by Tippet. All the letters had been signed by Jock Fraser and John Proudlocks, and challenged the authority of the Queen Anne County committee of safety.

* * *

Hugh Kenrick refrained from returning to the Caxton jail, for John Proudlocks had alluded to some action he planned to set his friend free. When that would happen, and how, Hugh did not know. Presumably Jock Fraser would be a partner in that action, and men from the Queen Anne County Volunteer Company would probably join them.

He refrained also because Proudlocks had not invited him into the conspiracy. He could not fault the man for that. He wanted to see Jack again, and apologize to him. And he wanted to see Proudlocks again, to thank him.

It occurred to Hugh that whatever action Proudlocks took would put many county citizens in open conflict with each other over the committee of safety’s precipitous assumption of authority, which was a dubious authority in the least. After all, he reflected, during his political career here, the county freeholders had almost always evenly divided themselves during the elections in their choice of burgesses between Edgar Cullis, the epitome of “moderation,” and himself, the epitome of “radicalism.”

For the moment, he contented himself with finishing a letter of condolence to his sister, Alice, about Roger’s death. He had delayed writing it for two days, for he kept imagining the effect it would have on her. Not to mention on his and Alice’s parents. He could not be certain that any fellow officer of Roger’s in Boston had devoted time to the sorrowful duty.

He finished the letter, signed it, and added it to a pile of letters for Mr. Beecroft to enter into the letter book, then take to Safford’s Tavern to await a mail courier. The others were to Otis Talbot and Novus Easley in Philadelphia, and another to a bookseller in New York, inquiring about some books he had ordered before he left for London half a year ago but which had not yet arrived.

For a moment, he sat at his desk, toying with his brass top. He wondered if Jack Frake had been freed from the Caxton jail yet. Then he rose, found the two letters from Roger, and put them inside a leather portmanteau. Then he searched for another sheet of paper, and smiled to himself for the first time in days. He put that in the portmanteau, as well. He left the
study and strode outside to the stables.

Jack Frake was indeed home. Several armed men from the Company stood in a group near the porch of the great house. Their mounts were tethered together at one of the railings. The men doffed their hats in greeting to Hugh as he rode up. He returned the greeting, and added his mount to theirs.

Ruth Dakin, a servant, answered his knock. He asked to see her employer. She left him in the hallway and went to the study to announce his visit, and came back a moment later and escorted him into the study.

Jack Frake sat at his desk. Jock Fraser and John Proudlocks stood before it. All three turned to him when Hugh entered the room. They exchanged silent nods of greeting.

Proudlocks said to Jack Frake, “Jock will ask two men to stay here as guards. The others can go home. We must leave, as well, to see to our own business.”

“Fine,” said Jack Frake.

Proudlocks and Fraser left the room and the house. As the men passed by Hugh, Hugh said to Proudlocks, “Thank you for your thoughts this morning, sir.” Proudlocks nodded in acknowledgement.

Through the study window Jack Frake and Hugh Kenrick watched the men collect their mounts and ride off.

When they were gone, Hugh turned to his friend and said, “I apologize for leaving you the way I did in the jail.” He paused. “John found me later and reminded me of who I am.”

Jack Frake smiled. “You would have remembered, in time, if he hadn’t found you.”

Hugh brought forward his portmanteau. “I wish you to read something. Letters from Roger. His last to me, from Boston. Please understand that I do not intend them to be an excuse for me, or a rebuke to you. I merely think you should read them.” He paused. “And then I have something marvelous for you to see. Would you read his letters?”

Jack Frake nodded.

Hugh took the letters from the portmanteau and handed them to Jack over the desk. Then he sat down in a chair in front of the desk to wait.

Jack finished reading the letters, and looked up at Hugh. “I see. I suppose he was a good man, Hugh. Loyal, diligent, and not a shirker. But, he was at Charlestown.” He put the letters aside. “I think that the war that is coming will claim many of his caliber.” He handed the letters back over the
desk to Hugh.

Jack Frake this time did not end with a note of regret. As he reclaimed the letters, it was then that Hugh fully appreciated Proudlocks’s allusion to the man’s rock-solid soul, and why so many had shipwrecked themselves on it, and hated him for it. It was then that Hugh fully grasped that Jack Frake was the best friend he could ever have — and ever had. All his past and dearest friends were from the old world. Jack Frake was of Hyperborea — of the new world. Of a new country. A country they had both sought and found.