Saratoga (25 page)

"Elizabeth may not see it that way."

"Tell her you love her so much that you want to marry her twice."

"Once is all that I crave, General," said Featherstone.

Burgoyne heard the edge of desperation in his voice. Featherstone was in a very awkward position. During the invasion from Canada the previous year, he had done exactly what many single officers did and acquired a series of mistresses with whom to while away the long summer nights. Burgoyne did not blame him for that, nor did he think it reprehensible behavior for a man engaged to be married. It was an accepted feature of army life. The presence of Elizabeth Rainham ruled out the option of a mistress, and Featherstone was finding that romantic love was a poor substitute for the delights of the flesh. Close to the woman he wanted, he was unable even to touch her. It was aggravating. He and Elizabeth could only consummate their love as husband and wife.

"By the time we reach Albany," Burgoyne observed, "Elizabeth will be twenty-one. That gives her certain rights of decision."

"She refuses to exercise them, General."

"Why?"

"I wish that I knew," Featherstone confided. "When I first raised the idea of marriage, Elizabeth was almost as excited as I was. Then we had that debacle at Bitter Creek. Since then, I fear, she's become a different person. She'll not even discuss the possibility."

"Give her time, Harry," Burgoyne advised. "What she saw at Bitter Creek was enough to disconcert anyone. Elizabeth is bound to brood on the death of her uncle and cousins. Give her time. She'll come round."

There was a tap and the door and it opened to admit two visitors. Expecting the other card players, Burgoyne was surprised to see Jamie Skoyles entering with a stranger.

"Excuse the interruption, General," said Skoyles, "but this will brook no delay. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Isaac Harman. He's brought word from General Howe in New York."

"At last!" cried Burgoyne, shaking Harman's hand. "You're most welcome, Lieutenant. We were beginning to think that Sir William had forgotten us. You're the first messenger to get through."

"The others must have been intercepted, General," said Harman, removing his hat. "I thought at one point that my own embassy would fail, but Captain Skoyles turned out to be friend rather than foe. I've never felt so relieved in all my born days." He pointed to Skoyles. "You have a remarkable man here. The captain disarmed me when I was holding a rifle on him."

"That's the kind of thing Skoyles is inclined to do," said Burgoyne with a grin. "Isn't it, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," muttered Featherstone.

"You have the dispatch, Lieutenant?"

"Yes," replied Harman, taking it from inside his coat to hand it over, "but you won't be able to read it easily, I'm afraid. It's in code, General."

"In that case, I'll have to decipher it. Excuse us, gentlemen," he said, opening the door to the adjoining room. "Lieutenant Harman and I will be back in a short while."

Jamie Skoyles was left alone with Harry Featherstone. There was an uneasy silence that lasted for well over a minute. Skoyles tried to break it with a polite inquiry.

"May I ask how Miss Rainham is?" he said.

"Miss Rainham is well," replied the other stiffly.

"Has she recovered from the horrors witnessed at Bitter Creek?"

"She will do so in time. Not that it concerns you, of course. What happens to Miss Rainham is something that you'll never know. I've spiked your guns, Captain."

"My guns?"

"Yes," said Featherstone with a sneer. "From now on, you'll not be able to pump her maid for information. I've stopped the woman from speaking to Sergeant Caffrey's whore."

Skoyles bristled. "Polly Bragg is no whore, Major."

"She is in my eyes."

"When it comes to whores," said Skoyles pointedly, "I bow to your superior knowledge of the breed. But I'll not have you insulting Mrs. Bragg by attaching that name to her. She deserves respect."

"Not from me. She's been operating as your spy."

"That's not true."

"You told her to befriend Nan Wyatt."

"I did nothing of the kind, Major," Skoyles retorted, "and I resent the suggestion that I did. Polly Bragg takes no orders from me."

"Sergeant Caffrey does and he can instruct his whore."

"Stop calling her that!"

Featherstone was defiant. "I'll call that trull whatever I wish."

"Not in my hearing," Skoyles warned.

He squared up to the Major with his eyes blazing. Featherstone glared back at him but he did not take up the challenge. The tension between them was close to breaking point when Burgoyne came back into the room with Harman. The general concealed his disappointment well. His voice was almost cheerful.

"At least we know where we stand now," he announced. "It seems that General Howe has elected to sail for Philadelphia instead of coming to meet us at Albany." He snapped his fingers. "No matter for that. We can manage without him, and we still have Brigadier St. Leger to reinforce us. All is well, gentleman," he said, airily. "It has turned out to our advantage. We have just been granted an opportunity to steal all of the glory for ourselves."

The number of people in the field hospital increased every day. Private Marcus Wolverton was confined there until he was sufficiently well to return to his duties. The wound in his arm was still heavily bandaged and giving him continuous twinges. His thigh would also take time to heal. To take his mind off the discomfort, and to stave off boredom, he played cards that evening with Private Andrew McKillop, a chubby Scotsman who remained resolutely cheerful even though he had had a leg amputated as a result of the action at Bitter Creek. McKillop was propped up on a mattress outside his tent, seemingly oblivious to the pain he must be suffering. Wolverton could not understand how the man kept his spirits up.

"In your position," he admitted, "I'd be cursing high heaven."

"What's the point, Wolvie?" asked McKillop, shuffling the cards. "I'm not stupid enough to think that God will listen to anything I have to say. He washed his hands of me years ago."

"God has time for even the worst sinners."

"Including the one-legged variety?"

"He has a special place in His heart for them, Andy."

McKillop laughed. "I know you're trying to reassure me," he said, dealing the cards, "but there's no need. I'm not resentful. I may've lost a limb but I still have the rest of my body. I also have an occupation I enjoy, friends I love, and a commander I admire. What more do I need?"

"Life will be somewhat different from now on."

"I know that, Wolvie. I won't be able to march in battle with you, maybe, but I can still stay in the regiment. Sergeant Caffrey says there are lots of things I can do, especially when I'm fitted with my wooden leg. I can't wait for that to happen."

"You're an example to us all, Andy."

"Someone has to be or you'd have nobody to look up to."

"What about me?" said Daniel Lukins, coming over to them. "I tries to set 'im a good example. I does my very best to keep 'im on the straight and narrow. Wolvie looks upon me as 'is moral guardian."

Wolverton picked up his cards. "I look upon you as nothing but a common thief, Dan Lukins," he said, arranging the cards in order. "You've stolen my watch three times already."

"A man has to keep his hand in," said McKillop.

"Yes," Lukins added. "Besides, it weren't your watch in the first place, Wolvie. You filched it off that rebel officer at 'Ubbardton."

Wolverton sniffed. "Finders, keepers."

"That's what I said when I found it in your pocket."

"Go away, Dan. You're standing in my light."

"I just came to see if you've 'eard the rumor?"

"What rumor?" asked McKillop.

"Charlie Westbourne 'as finally lost 'is virginity."

"Never! Who was the unlucky woman?"

"There were five of 'em, Andy," said Lukins, cackling. "Four to 'old 'im down and one to make a man of 'im."

"Don't believe a word of it!" Wolverton warned. "Dan is lying again."

"No, I ain't. There
is
a rumor, and it did come from the Lieutenant, but the bit about the five women was wrong—there were only four." He dodged the punch that Wolverton flung at him. "No need to 'it me."

"There's
always
a need to hit you, Dan. You should be struck hard on the hour every day until you learn to tell the truth."

"This is the truth—I swear it!"

"How is Lieutenant Westbourne involved?" said McKillop.

"Because 'e was the one I over'eard, talking to another officer. They 'ad these worried looks on their faces, so I thought it was important to listen." He moved in closer and adopted a more conspiratorial tone. "The rumor is there ain't no reinforcements comin' from New York."

"But they were supposed to meet us at Albany," said Wolverton.

"General 'Owe is goin' to attack Philadelphia instead."

"That will take him further south—away from us."

"It's only a rumor, mind," said Lukins, "but I got an 'orrible feelin' that it may turn out to be true. I'm scared stiff."

"You're always scared, Dan."

"Well, I'm not," McKillop affirmed, exposing a row of tobacco-stained teeth as he grinned broadly. "We've got nothing to be frightened about. The British army is the finest in the world. We beat the French, we beat the Spanish, and we'll give these bloody Americans a damned good hiding as well."

"We could do it more easily with General Howe's army to support us," said Wolverton, "but that may not be possible. I hope that these wounds of mine heal up soon. It sounds as if I'll be needed."

McKillop sat up. "And me—I can still hold a musket!"

"You can't 'op around a battlefield on one leg, Andy," said Lukins.

"Try stopping me. I joined this army to fight."

"Well, I didn't, and I say it again—this rumor scares the pants off me. I think we should go back to Canada where it's safe."

"See it as a chance to make a name for yourself, Dan," Wolverton urged, hiding his own disquiet. "We're going to find a lot of action ahead of us. Who knows? If you kill an officer, as I did, you might be able to take a watch off him—then you won't have to keep stealing mine."

Lieutenant Isaac Harman was staying overnight in the camp before making the return journey on the following day. Jamie Skoyles invited the man into his tent so that they could talk at leisure. Harman was a New York loyalist who had enlisted in the British army the previous year. Skoyles admired his courage in volunteering to act as a messenger.

"I had no idea that you'd come as far south as Skenesborough," said Harman. "When I set out from New York, we'd not even heard the news that Ticonderoga had fallen."

"Why did it take you so long to get here?"

"Because I didn't hurry, Captain. Three of us were sent at the same time. Two were express riders, finding fresh horses as they went along and trying to outrun any pursuit. Their problem was that they looked exactly what they were."

"Messengers, riding hell for leather."

"Precisely, my friend, whereas I was posing as a man intent on buying land in New England. The disguise worked until I came up against you in the forest."

"I took you for a rebel," Skoyles confessed.

"So did lots of people, fortunately," said Harman. "That's why I haunted the taverns wherever I stayed. I could pick up information from the enemy that way. It was in a tavern in Albany that I heard that General Schuyler was going to send fifteen hundred soldiers to Fort Edward."

"That intelligence helped to spare my blushes, Lieutenant. I was due to press on to Fort Edward for the purposes of reconnaissance. Since you knew so much about the place, you saved me the trouble."

"Glad to be of assistance."

"You even caught Redsnake for me."

"That was unintentional. He tried to ambush me."

"It enabled me to get the horses and the telescope back."

"Did you tell General Burgoyne how the instrument went astray?"

"No," said Skoyles honestly. "He has enough on his mind at the moment. I didn't want to add to his worries."

"Gentleman Johnny doesn't seem to
have
any worries. When he deciphered that dispatch, he didn't turn a hair. It was almost as if he were glad that General Howe would not be coming."

"I can't say that
I'm
glad, Lieutenant. It will considerably diminish the impact we can make. Our aim was to isolate the rebels in the north."

"You may still do that, Captain."

"Not unless we win a pitched battle against them."

"It may not come to that," said Harman, sagely. "The rebels are in disarray. The loss of Fort Ticonderoga was a massive blow to them. They were still dazed by it when I got to Albany."

"We may have put the Continental Army to flight," said Skoyles, "but there are still the militias to call upon. They'll boost the numbers at General Schuyler's disposal."

"That's not the impression that I got, Captain."

"Oh?"

"I saw members of the New England militia on my way here. They looked like a rabble. Most of them of them had no uniform to speak of, and there was little sense of organization."

"They'll be organized enough on a battlefield," Skoyles argued. "It's dangerous to have no respect for an enemy. A war is not always won by the army with the smartest uniforms."

The discussion continued until Harman began to tire visibly. After shaking him warmly by the hand, Skoyles told him where he could sleep for the night and sent him off, grateful to have made his acquaintance. Alone in his tent, Skoyles felt a sudden need for company, and the face of Maria Quinn came into his mind. He regretted the way that he had abandoned her so swiftly during her earlier visit, and he wanted to make amends. Skoyles was tense, tired, and jaded. Maria Quinn would be the ideal antidote. He left the tent in order to find her, only to be met by the solid figure of Sergeant Tom Caffrey.

"Just the man I need," said Caffrey.

"Hello, Tom."

"Were you going somewhere?"

"Only to take a walk and get some fresh air," Skoyles lied, not wishing to take his friend into his confidence about Maria Quinn.