Schuyler flushed. Franklin had gotten him back. He grinned and took a part at random from each pile. Faith took them solemnly, laid them on a table in the order she wanted, and then proceeded to put them together. It took only a couple of minutes before the unique-looking weapon was completed.
“Impressive,” said Schuyler, “but will it work?”
Franklin took the stubby gun from Faith and held it aloft. “I will test it and fire it.”
“You will not!” exclaimed Schuyler. “If an accident happens, we cannot afford to lose you.”
“You’re right,” said Tallmadge. “Someone less important should fire it. Will Drake, you do it.”
Will grinned at Tallmadge and took the weapon, while the others laughed at his expense. He examined it carefully and saw no obvious flaws. Franklin suggested they go outdoors, where a wall of dirt-filled sacks had been constructed about fifty feet away. Someone had stuck some men’s clothing to it as a target. Will loaded the weapon with a packet of powder and one large lead bullet, cocked the hammer and aimed. The thing was heavy and dragged down the barrel.
He fired and the recoil pushed him a step backwards. A huge flock of pigeons erupted in fright from Tallmadge’s headquarters, flew around in circles and finally settled back down. Will noted that Tallmadge was a bit concerned about the birds. He hoped he’d hit something near the target and not one of the pigeons. Then he wondered just what all those pigeons were doing in the loft of Tallmadge’s office?
They walked through the dissipating smoke. A sandbag just to the left of the target showed a huge hole. Franklin peered at it and winked at Will. “It would appear that the sandbag is dead, but the enemy soldier is just fine, thank you.”
“With practice, sir, I am confident I can do much better.”
“I’m sure you can,” Schuyler agreed. “But I do wonder just what the primary purpose of your weapon will be? It doesn’t have the range of a rifle, or even a musket, so how shall it be used?”
“I see it as a second weapon,” Franklin said. “I visualize a soldier carrying it on his back and, when his musket is emptied, he takes it and fires at very close range at the advancing enemy who will think the soldier is helpless. I believe it would be quite shocking to an enemy, assuming he survives.”
“That might work,” said Tallmadge, “but I doubt it, sir. The heat of battle is confusing enough without having to change weapons.
“Can it take a bayonet, Mr. Franklin?” asked Schuyler.
“I don’t think so,” Franklin said, “although a short bayonet might be contrived for it.”
“Then a second weapon it must be,” Schuyler said, “Or something for cavalry to use if we ever get some horses. Tell me, how many of these can you make, and why not utilize your assembly method for some other type of weapon?”
If Franklin was disappointed at the less than enthusiastic reception his weapon had just received, he didn’t show it. “When we get going, an initial goal will be ten of these a day. We can improve upwards as we continue to learn. Within a couple of months, I hope to be building a hundred a day. However, if you are not interested in that many of my Franklins, I am certain I can adapt my methods to other killing devices.”
Schuyler nodded solemnly. “Such as muskets?”
“Indeed.”
“And rifles?”
“The problem of cutting the grooves in the barrel is enormous.”
Schuyler smiled. “Then work on it, will you?”
* * *
Owen Wells went looking for Faith Benton. He wanted to get her alone so he could talk to her, but that was proving unlikely as she was either working making Franklin’s guns, or with her cousin Sarah, or with her father. He wanted to tell her that she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Owen had never been in love before, so he had no idea how to proceed. He alternated between periods of deep despondency and great elation. It was like he had been reborn. If only Faith might return his affections.
Sometimes he thought his position as her suitor was hopeless. She was beautiful, and he was nothing more than a stumpy caricature of a man with bulging shoulders and overlong and heavily muscled arms. Perhaps she would laugh at him. She had seemed friendly enough when they traveled from the battle on the Ohio to Fort Washington, but that was back then and he had helped save her life, and this was now and she was safe and secure. Worse, she was surrounded by young men who not only outranked him but looked normal. He didn’t care. He had to know.
Finally, he was in luck. She came out of the women’s quarters and just stood there, breathing deeply of a crisp afternoon, a shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She was so beautiful.
“Good morning, Miss Faith,” he said and walked slowly up to her. She turned and smiled at him in recognition.
“I believe its afternoon, Mister Wells.”
He flushed. What a wonderful way to start a conversation with the woman he dreamed about. He’d just shown her that he couldn’t tell time. “I’ve been so busy it’s easy to get confused.”
“I know that feeling.”
“I just wanted to speak to you, to let you know that I’ll be leaving.”
Was that dismay he saw on her face? “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be leading a patrol out to the east, in search of Redcoats and their friends.”
“You’ll be leading it? But I thought you were only a corporal?”
“I was, but Major Drake suggested that I should be a lieutenant because of my experience in the Royal Marines and General Tallmadge agreed. So now I am an officer,” although, he didn’t add, one of the most junior ones in the entire American army.
She grinned. “And a gentleman?”
“Oh, I hope so,” he said and spoke more boldly than he felt. “And I was wondering if you might like to go for a walk with a gentleman? Or perhaps just sit and talk?”
Faith was touched. The short, squat young man was only slightly taller than she and only a couple of years older, but she knew his story and that he had been aged beyond those years by events far beyond his control.
For that matter, so had she. Her experiences at the hands of Sheriff Braxton’s deputies were something she could not put out of her mind, even though she tried to make light of them when talking with Sarah. Wells had to be aware that something awful had occurred to her back east, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Perhaps equally awful things had happened to him on board a British warship? And why not, she thought. He would have been a boy among older, stronger men. She’d heard terrible stories about what happened to boys surrounded by predatory older men.
Faith tightened her shawl around her shoulders. He looked so frightened at being with her and that she might say no thank you to a walk. Perhaps she should say “boo” and see if he’d fall over or just run. No, she decided. He was just too nice a young man.
“A walk would be nice, but not too long a one. I wouldn’t want you catching a chill before your first patrol.”
“Good idea.”
She smiled warmly. “Perhaps after, we can sit by a fire and talk.”
Chapter 6
Major James Fitzroy arrived back at the rooms he shared with Hannah Doorn-no, make that Hannah Van Doorn. He was nearly shaking with anger and frustration.
“What is the matter, my dear lordship?” Hannah teased, trying to amuse him out of his anger.
“Anything and everything,” he groaned. “I have just found out what a treacherous viper General Banastre Tarleton is, and to make matters worse, I am to blame for some of the evil he is doing. I do not understand how people in England can consider him to be a hero and a saint, while those in the colonies more accurately portray him as a criminal. I accept that war is a ruthless profession by its very nature, but he goes beyond the limits of decency, and I don’t just mean killing prisoners or abusing civilians. I mean atrocities.”