William saw no need to comment. The dilemma was well known. With so much of the army with Burgoyne, the British had virtually conceded the lands outside the major cities to whoever could hold them. Tories and rebels were again fighting for control of the countryside and the rebels seemed to be winning. Many Tories were disheartened by what appeared to be a two-part abandonment of them by the British. The first was the disappearance of the army, their protection, and the second was the publication of Britain’s shocking intentions for the colonies after the war was won. Offended, angered, with their livelihoods threatened, many Loyalists had gone over to the rebels, while many of the others waited in sullen silence, but without supporting the British.
At least, William thought, the smallpox that was devouring New York had so far spared his ships. When the plague erupted, he’d coldly ordered those ashore to remain ashore so they could not infect his crews. Of course, that also meant he couldn’t take on supplies or press crewmen. The additional crew he could exist without, but his men had to eat, damn it. Something had to break and quickly.
“What can I do to assist?” William asked.
“Take me home,” Charles Cornwallis said with a wry laugh. He wanted nothing more than to be away from this place and to be back in England with memories of his beloved but deceased Jemima. He was one of a small number in his social class who had married for love and her death had devastated him.
“Is there a second choice?” William asked sympathetically.
“Could you take me and my soldiers to Boston or Charleston should the crises worsen here?”
William stiffened. That would mean disobeying the orders of Lord North, who had commanded that the major cities, specifically including New York, be held while Burgoyne marched inland. Still, Lord North was thousands of miles away, while his brother was the commander on the ground.
“Do you think that will be necessary?”
“I don’t know. If the disease threatens we may have to leave, at least temporarily. Perhaps we can construct a fort on Long Island or Staten Island and be far away from the sickness that is New York while still claiming we’re here.” He laughed harshly. “It would only be half a lie, a fact which our conniving Lord North would fully understand and appreciate.”
William relaxed. That would enable Governor Cornwallis to claim he still controlled New York by dominating the harbor. Perhaps he could even offer the use of the several hundred marines on his ships as additions to the governor’s depleted garrison. “My dear brother, we will do everything we can to assist should that prove necessary.”
Off in the distance, a woman wailed in unspeakable anguish. Someone had just died, and perhaps violently, although it was more likely from the disease that ravaged the city. It was a sound heard very frequently now, and both men wondered what if anything would be left of the American Colonies when Burgoyne returned victorious.
Chapter 13
“Where is my uncle?” Sarah demanded, waving her arms in frustration. “And where are all the people who used to work with him? Merlin’s Cave has disappeared and no one knows where it’s gone.”
“And neither do I,” Will said, “and neither does General Tallmadge, although,” he admitted, “he could be lying. He so often is.”
However, Will had known that the men and some of the women working in the laboratory and factory known informally as “Merlin’s Cave” had been gradually moving out. Where they’d gone and why was a mystery. Apparently General Stark and Benjamin Franklin knew their whereabouts and purpose, but neither man was talking and Will was not about to ask.
“Sarah, you work with Franklin. You could ask him yourself, you know.”
“He’s refused to talk about it. Poor Faith is distraught. Her father and mother have disappeared somewhere and Owen has gone east to confront the Redcoats.”
“Which is exactly where I’ll be going very shortly. Will you miss me as much as Faith misses her young sailor?”
She slipped easily into his arms and kissed him. “Of course I will.”
They were in Franklin’s office, which afforded them a degree of privacy. She was beginning to think that privacy and restraint could go to hell. They were all in danger of being killed or enslaved in a very short while, so why not enjoy what remained of life?
“Sarah, I would tell you where they were if I knew. Many things are happening, and no one is going to tell me until I come back from observing the British again.”
Sarah understood the grim reality. Will was going east with a very small detachment to see first-hand the pace and size of the British advance. If he was captured, then he had nothing to tell, even under torture. Sarah shuddered at the thought of Will being brutalized by someone like the man who assaulted poor Winifred, or chewed alive by the squaws who had accompanied Brant’s Iroquois. There were indeed fates worse than death and ordeals that made what had happened to her seem trivial.
Their thoughts were interrupted by Franklin asking for Sarah’s presence. Will kissed her again. “If you want to know what is going on, why not use your feminine wiles on the good Doctor Franklin?”
Why not indeed, Sarah thought.
* * *
The beginning of the march out of the camps around Detroit was bloody impressive, Fitzroy thought. Literally thousands of men began to march across the fields and into the woods like a long, powerful, red snake. He gazed at the sky and saw columns of smoke in the distance. These were doubtless rebel signaling devices and made it obvious that not all the rebel spies had been captured. Far from it, if the number of smoke columns were any indication.
More puzzling were the numbers of pigeons that had been released. They flew in circles for a couple of moments and then headed west. He had the nagging feeling that this must be a means by which the rebels communicated, but, for the life of him, he had no idea how. Danforth was well-educated and might know, but he had departed with Arnold’s navy.
It was an immense and mighty undertaking, even though Burgoyne’s army was moving agonizingly slowly. Problems were beginning to arise and no one was surprised. All the planning in the world could not anticipate what would happen when nearly fourteen thousand men, along with hundreds of wagons and horses, and accompanied by herds of cattle, began to move west. Burgoyne had done all he could to lighten the army, but it still necessary to bring a large quantity of supplies. Fourteen thousand men ate a lot of food each day, more than several tons, and they had no choice but to bring it.
At least they weren’t dragging bloody cannon through the forest, and, unlike the Saratoga campaign, Burgoyne had not brought his mistress and several wagons of personal supplies. Fitzroy grinned. To the best of his knowledge, Burgoyne had no mistress at Detroit and had been forced to remain celibate along with most of his army. At least he’d had the pleasures of Hannah for a little while.
Fitzroy urged his small, old horse towards the front of the column. He was one of the lucky few on horseback. The vast majority of the men, including some fairly high-ranking officers, would have to walk. His position as Burgoyne’s aide afforded him some privileges and he saw nothing wrong with that.
He found General Grant watching the march as it slowed and then stopped altogether.
“Now what the devil is wrong?” Grant muttered angrily.
“Surely it’ll get better as we go along and get used to this, sir.”
Grant glared at Fitzroy. “It can hardly get any worse, Major. We’ve been at this for hours and most of the men haven’t yet left the camp.”
Fitzroy noted that the querulous general had lost still more weight. Bad food will do that to you, he thought. The previously portly general now looked more stout than actually fat.