“He never showed resentment,” Alice said, “all these years when we came and took his land Jaho just stayed and helped. He was so patient. It was like he was waiting for something.”
“Who is this man Bowen?”
She looked up, scrubbing at her eyes. “Bowen could never earn a living from his painting. He became a miller.”
“The mill over the ridge?”
“You astound me Duncan. Jaho is dead, the gallows are up, and you risk your life coming to talk about the miller?” She saw the fierce light in his eyes. “Yes. The same, the man who disappeared after Ramsey’s men arrived.”
Duncan gazed at the painting of the Indian and realized it was a much younger Jahoska, made up as a warrior. He still could not understand the dying man’s message.
“A new edict came today. The Africans are no longer to be taught reading and writing. Gabriel complained about my classes to Lord Ramsey last month and now some official in the Colonial Office who never set foot in Virginia demands I stop. Edicts and commands come from London like the word of God.”
Duncan found his gaze drifting up to the image of Ramsey, seeing now his ermine collar, his golden rings. The painter had included a soft glow around the lord’s head like a halo. He suddenly understood. “That’s it, Alice! The word of God! No edict could come from London in a month!”
She wiped away more tears and looked up in confusion.
“In his world Ramsey is god! He acknowledges no rules. Ramsey produces the edicts that serve him. Where is the miller?”
“You speak in riddles.”
“There was a list of supplies in Hobart’s room. Badger hair, prussian green, lampblack. Artist’s supplies. They’re using Bowen! That’s what Jaho was trying to tell me. This artist made the perfect replica of the charter. So real it could be passed off as an official document. Where is he?”
“Gone away. They seized his mill and took him away on the cutter months ago.”
“And then edicts started arriving?”
“Yes,” Alice hesitantly replied. “A few weeks later.”
“Ramsey is using Bowen to create a shadow government, to block the committees!” Duncan exclaimed. “He makes up his own edicts, creates letters in others’ handwriting! William Johnson detected something false in the letter from Benjamin Franklin delivered by his son! We must find the miller!”
Ten minutes later they stood at the kitchen table, the map of the Chesapeake unrolled before them.
“He would be kept close, yet out of the way,” Duncan said.
They stared at the map. “The cutter leaves,” Alice said. “And if the wind blows fair she is back in three or four days.”
“Annapolis,” Winters suggested.
“Too big,” Alice said. “Too many real officials. It would need to be somewhere very quiet.”
Titus pointed to two other towns, Alice two more. Cambridge, Oxford, Chestertown, and Ononcock.
“There would have to be a printing press,” Duncan put in.
“All but Oxford are county seats,” Alice said. “County seats always have a printer.”
“Not Oxford then.”
“Surely the sailors must talk,” Duncan pressed.
“Never,” Alice replied. “They are too scared of Ramsey.”
Titus’s countenance suddenly lit with excitement. He slipped out the door and a moment later returned, dropping an oyster shell as big as his hand on the table. “The Commodore always wants his hogs,” the butler declared, the gleam still in his eye. “A bushel comes back with the cutter every time.”
“Hogs?” Duncan asked.
“Only one place these big ones can be found,” Titus explained. “That’s how they get their name. Chestertown hogs.”
An injured officer has arrived, read the message from Alice Dawson that came as he worked the fields the next morning. Please come at once. Trent grinned as he handed the slip of paper to Duncan. “She says please, mind you.”
As they walked alongside on the perimeter road Duncan realized that he too was studying the river.
“I wasn’t aware a new ship had arrived,” Duncan ventured.
“I ain’t been near the river for two days. But there be no new mast showing. Probably just some powdered fool who scalded himself on his tea.”
But the man lying on the upstairs bed bore the signs of battle. A cheek was badly burnt, with dark grains flecking his skin, and a long jagged splinter of wood was embedded in his shoulder. Blood oozed out of the wound. An empty vial of laudanum and a small tumbler lay on the nightstand, as did a suturing kit.
“Dr. Lloyd was denied permission to come onshore,” Alice explained.
“But these are battle wounds . . .” Duncan began.
“Smugglers,” the officer groaned through his pain. “They took half a dozen rounds from us. When we approached they let loose with two guns. Light ones, no more than six pounders, but one of the balls knocked a slow match onto a powder keg not ten feet from me. By then we were close enough for boarding. Our marines laid into them. The captain and half his crew are now food for Chesapeake gulls.”
Duncan stepped to the window. The two new ships had been obscured from the fields by the manor house. A little brigantine lay anchored midstream, beside a heavy sloop that had clearly taken battle damage.
“The doctor from Philadelphia asked for you,” Alice said to his back.
Duncan hesitated. Surely he had not heard correctly. “A physician who knows me is here?”
Before she could respond the door from the adjoining chamber was thrown open and a familiar figure hurried forward.
“Benjamin?” Duncan said. “You are supposed to be in Philadelphia.”
“Duncan!” Rush proclaimed with outstretched arms. “Praise God you are safe!”
Duncan darted to the door and closed it. Alice closed the hallway door and leaned against it. “I am not safe, Benjamin, and neither are you. You must flee immediately, the same way you arrived.”
Rush’s smile flickered, fading and returning more than once as he struggled to understand. “That is problematic,” he finally said. “You see, our ship is no longer our ship. There was a tragic misunderstanding with the Virginia navy.”
“Surely you were not on the smuggler?”
The young Philadelphia doctor gestured Duncan to the window and spoke in a whisper. “Not a smuggler. We chartered the Penelope for an expedition of natural philosophy. Reports reached Philadelphia last year that the rivers feeding the Chesapeake contain sturgeon of unnatural proportions. Dr. Franklin and his scientific society suggested they may represent an as-yet-undiscovered species. We announced that we sought to capture some of the creatures for study.” He lowered his voice. “A note came from the Conococheague Valley. It seemed a propitious time to launch an expedition.” He extracted a slip of paper from his waistcoat and handed it to Duncan. It was in a child’s scrawl. Galalee on the Raphonock. Sayv thm.
“Analie?” Duncan asked. “Is she safe then?”
“They came by horse, arriving in the hills two days ago.”
“They?”
Rush seemed not to hear Duncan’s question. “The captain had called at Galilee years ago and readily agreed to sail up the Rappahannock, to what he said was the best hospitality on the river. We were approaching the river mouth when the navy appeared and acted as if we were pirates.” His face clouded. “There were casualties. I fear our captain’s luck ran out, may he rest in peace. When they questioned the crew and discovered the captain was the owner and had no heirs, they were ecstatic. With no one to object they would call the sloop a prize.”
Duncan had a hundred questions, but the officer on the bed moaned, reminding him that there was more urgent work to do. He examined the splinter wound.
“I didn’t dare take it out,” Alice said, “for fear of a burst vessel.”
“You did right,” Duncan confirmed, then hurried to the basin to wash his hands. With Rush assisting, they had the treacherous piece of wood out within minutes. Rush began stitching the flesh together.