When they finally did cross, they took a rowboat to push through the ice rather than a more fragile canoe, and Leduc, for once grinning happily, let Will and Owen do all the work. It was proper, he said, since they were supposed to be his hired hands.
“We are going into the belly of the beast,” said Owen.
Will thought much the same thing, although the beast seemed almighty disinterested in their coming. No one glanced more than casually at them, and only a couple of men waved at Leduc, whose presence in and around Detroit was clearly considered normal.
Will tried to take in the area with a soldier’s eye even though he knew it was extremely unlikely they’d ever attack the place. The ground was flat to gently rolling, and the area had been largely denuded of trees. These had gone to build small but sturdy Fort Lernoult. More wood had gone to make the flimsy stockade that surrounded the town, and the town itself, as well as for use as firewood. Farms had sprung up on the Detroit side and sent thin fingers of cultivated land inland, like Leduc’s on the other side of the Detroit River. Will noted that a large number of buildings and homes had been built outside the fort. Apparently, there was no longer any threat from Indians, which was interesting since Pontiac’s uprising and subsequent siege of Detroit had taken place only a couple of decades earlier. Of course, the presence of the British Army had a lot to do with that sense of security.
As they walked towards the town’s wooden wall, Will found it a cause of wonderment that British soldiers walked by and past them without apparently noticing them.
“Arrogant bastards, aren’t they,” whispered Leduc. “I’d like to slice their fucking throats.”
They entered the town of Detroit with only a nod to the guards. Leduc explained that the guards around Lernoult and the town proper belonged to the regular garrison of fewer than a hundred men and he knew most of them by sight. A transplanted Dutchman, Colonel Arent de Peyster, commanded them. The garrison troops hated the new arrivals since they clogged the taverns and chased what few women there were. The regular garrison couldn’t wait for Burgoyne’s army to depart so they could get back to their comfortable existence.
“What kind of man is this de Peyster?” Will asked.
“He’s fairly decent. He won’t hang you unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He laughed when he saw the look on Will’s face. “No, he’s quite genial and tolerant for an British officer. He took over from Richard Lernoult who built the citadel, and is a far, far better man than Henry Hamilton, the lieutenant governor who was known as the ‘hairbuyer’ because he delighted in buying the scalps of rebels. He didn’t much care if the scalps came from women or children.”
“Still, we will have to watch out for de Peyster’s men,” Will said. “They will likely be able to recognize most of the locals and might wonder where we came from.”
“We will indeed,” he said and pointed to a close by wooden building. “But now we will go to this store that has a barn. It’s where we will buy feed and supplies that I don’t need,” Leduc said. “That will be my excuse for being here in case I should happen to need one. There is a loft above the barn where you can go and observe.”
The barn was quite large, and they went into the back of it and up a ladder to the loft. The owner was a friend of Leduc’s and a rebel sympathizer who said he was going out and discreetly left them alone. The loft overlooked a narrow road that led to a two-story log building that had been whitewashed. Sentries stood guard around it.
Leduc came and crouched beside them and sucked on his pipe. He’d lit it from a candle in the owner’s office. Will thought it was dangerous to smoke a pipe in a barn filled with hay and straw, but declined to comment. Leduc was touchy enough without some stranger telling him how to live.
“Are you happy, Major Drake? You are now staring at the headquarters of Tarleton the butcher and Burgoyne the fool. Major De Peyster knows enough to stay in his little fort and leave them alone. Since there was no room for them in Fort Lernault, the British command has had to make its headquarters in the town.”
“I wonder if we could break in and find some information of use to us,” Will mused.
Leduc laughed harshly. “First, Major, I don’t think you could break in and, even if you did, what would you find that you don’t already know? They are coming in the spring and, if there is any reason at all for the boats, at least some of the soldiers or their supplies will arrive by water.” Leduc yawned. “Don’t even think of trying to get in. I would have a devil of a time explaining why the men I hired as temporary labor had to be hanged.”
“Then there’s no real point in us being here, is there?” Owen asked.
“Not really, although please recall that this was your idea,” Leduc said and added a Gallic shrug. “So I hope you are enjoying yourselves and will be satisfied soon so I can get home.”
Will admitted that Leduc was right. It was nothing more than curiosity that brought them to the barn, although it was fascinating to see impeccably dressed and high-ranking British officers strutting about the headquarters only a literal stone’s throw away.
He stiffened as another distinguished looking officer left the building. “Is that Benedict Arnold?”
Leduc chuckled. “That is the lord high traitor himself. No one likes him and I wonder if he can even stand himself. Burgoyne, Tarleton, and Grant are trying to figure a way to get him out of Detroit and away from the campaign.”
Another man left the headquarters. He wore an officer’s coat, but was decidedly unmilitary. “Joseph Brant,” Leduc muttered angrily. “I didn’t know he was here.”
“This means he’s brought Indian allies,” Will said. Brant was half-Mohawk and half English, and had allied the Iroquois with the British in the revolution.
“Of course has brought his goddamned Iroquois,” Leduc snarled, thinking of his mangled hand. “I hate those savages more than I hate the English.”
“And why is it that you hate the English?” Will asked. “I know they killed your brother, but that was war. Haven’t they treated you well since then?”
Leduc took another pull on his pipe. “They think they have treated me well, but I hate them because the English are liars and frauds. I am French and Catholic and they hate the French and Catholics. They tolerate us French men and women and they will tolerate our faith only for as long as they have to. When they have achieved full dominance here, which means after they have crushed you poor fools, they will turn on my people and treat them as poorly as they now treat Catholics in Ireland.”
He blew smoke from his pipe towards Will. The tobacco was less than cheap and Will nearly gagged. “Personally, I don’t care what happens to Englishmen who fight other Englishmen, especially since I don’t trust your people at this Liberty place any more than I trust the English. Still, you seem to be the best possibility from a batch of very bad choices.”
Will didn’t comment. He did, however, think that sighting Brant made the foray into Detroit at least a little bit worthwhile. Still, it was time to go. Perhaps they could have a drink at a tavern and listen to post gossip. No, he decided, that would be too foolhardy. Time to get away safely. He nudged Owen and they stood up.
“Hey!” came a loud voice from the ladder. “What the hell are you sons of bitches doing up there?”
Chapter 7
Will froze as two burly British soldiers climbed up and joined them on the loft. One of them, a sergeant, pointed at Leduc. “I asked you what you were doing up here?”
Leduc smiled thinly, “Just trying to avoid work while minding the store for my friend, Sergeant. Is there something you wish to buy?”
The sergeant looked around and then out the window. He took in the view of his army’s headquarters. He turned and glowered at them. “There was, but not anymore. I don’t know what you were doing up here, but I think it’s possible you’re all spies.”