He also had to flog his faltering French to respond in writing. As well wish for the moon as expect a French nobleman to read English. His pen scratched across the sheet of rather coarse paper: coarse, yes, but made in Atlantis. My dear Marquis de la Fayette: I regret that the redcoats' tactics have disconcerted you. Perhaps the arrival of an Atlantean officer of suitable rank to instruct your soldiers might improve the situation. Yours faithfully-Victor Radcliff, general commanding.
Off his response went, by the fastest fishing schooner then in Hanover harbor. He wished he could send it by semaphore or heliograph tower. Unfortunately, the enemy controlled most of the territory that lay between himself and the French. He had to entrust the communication to wind and wave.
In due course, and not a great deal later than he'd hoped, he got his reply. It was, if nothing else, short and to the point My dear General Radcliff, de la Fayette wrote, I look forward to your joining us at your earliest convenience. Your most obedient servant…
Staring, Victor said, "Where the devil did he get that notion?"
"What is the trouble now?" Blaise asked.
"I told the French general some officer of-I think I said something like 'the right rank'-would come and show his regulars how to fight in Atlantis," Victor answered. "And he thinks I meant I'd go myself!" He laughed at the absurdity.
To his surprise, Blaise didn't. "Maybe you should. If the French know the man they fight beside, it could be that they will fight better because of it. I mean truly know, you understand."
"But-" Victor found himself spluttering. "But-" He finally managed to put his main objection into words: "What if Cornwallis tries to take Hanover away from us again?"
"Not likely, not after he turned away when we beat him at Redwood Hill," Blaise answered calmly. "And even if he does, do you think the army can fight only if it has you to tell it how to go about things?"
Part of Victor thought exactly that. He knew better than to admit it, though. If the cause of liberty had an indispensable man, was liberty what the Atlantean Assembly was really fighting for? Or would the settlements-now styled states-merely be exchanging one master for another?
Slowly, Victor said, "When you put it that way…"
"I do," Blaise said. "Besides, don't you want to see with your own eyes what these French are like, what they can do?"
"I saw too much of that in the last war. This time, at least, whatever they can do, they won't be trying to do it to me."
"Victor wagged a finger at Blaise. "I think you're telling me I should go because you want to get down that way yourself."
"Who? Me?" Butter would have stayed solid forever in the Negro's mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about, General."
"Like fun you don't," Victor said. "But all right. Well see what we can do to get this de la Fayette's soldiers moving again, you and I."
"Good" Blaise said equably. Victor hoped it would be.
A brisk breeze from the north wafted the Rosebud out of Hanover harbor, bound for Cosquer or somewhere not far north. The schooner had been a big fishing boat before war came to Atlantis. Now she mounted a dozen eight-pounders: plenty for taking unarmed merchantmen, but not nearly enough to stand against even a small English frigate.
Victor Radcliff knew he came from a line that had gone to sea for generation after generation. He himself, however, made a most indifferent sailor. But he outdid Blaise. He'd seen before that the Negro was unhappy aboard ship. Setting a hand on Blaise's shoulder, he said, "Cheer up, friend. You won't end up on the auction block after we disembark."
Blaise gave back a sheepish smile. "You pinned it down, General; that you did. I know here that this is no slaver." He tapped his forehead. But then, touching his belly and his crotch in turn, he added, "Here and here, though, I'm not so sure. I doubt that that'd make sense to someone who's never lain in chains, but there it is."
"No, I've never done that," Victor admitted. He said nothing about the profit various offshoots of the Radcliff and Radcliffe clans had made from the slave trade. Blaise was bound to know already; still, casting it in his face would be rude. Instead, Victor said, "Maybe I can imagine a little of what you went through."
"Maybe." By the way Blaise said it, he thought Victor was talking through his hat. Since he had the experience and Victor didn't, he might well have been right.
Instead of arguing with him, Victor waited upon the Rosebud's skipper, a potbellied Hanover man named Randolph Welles. "What do we do if the Royal Navy calls on us to stop and be boarded?"
"Well, now, General, that depends." Welles' pipe sent upsmoke signals. "If we can run, why, run we shall-I promise you that. But if the choice is between letting them board and getting blown out of the water… All things considered, I'd sooner go on living." He spread his hands, as if to say there was no accounting for taste.
"I see," Victor said. "And who decides whether we shall run or yield?"
*I do," Randolph Welles snapped. Till that moment, Victor had thought him mild-mannered. Now he discovered he'd labored under a misapprehension. Welles went on, "On land you may do as you please, sir-that is your province. But I am captain of the Rosebud, General, no one else-she assuredly is my province. Let there be no misunderstandings on that score. They could cause unpleasantness: perhaps even worse."
"All right." Victor wasn't sure it was. If Welles wanted to surrender when that didn't look like a good idea to him… But what could he do about it? If the Rosebud's sailors seemed inclined to obey their skipper, precious little. Victor's best hope then might be diving over the rail and hoping he could swim to shore. He wasn't much of a swimmer. He could barely see the shore. If he didn't want the English to hang him, though, what other choice had he?
Generals borrowed a lot of trouble. Any commander worth having needed to worry about how he'd respond if the enemy did this, that, or the other thing. Many of the things a general could come up with were wildly unlikely. Most of the things a general could come up with never happened. But the day he didn't worry about them would be the day one came true.
So it proved aboard the Rosebud. Victor worried about what might happen if Royal Navy vessels came after the schooner. She saw never a one as she sailed south past New Hastings and Freetown. She did see a few fishing boats, all of them smaller and slower than she was. She had favorable winds and a mild sea. A day sooner than Victor expected her to, she slid into the harbor at Cosquer.
Even Blaise said, "Well, that wasn't too bad." Knowing how he felt about ships, Victor didn't think he could come out with higher praise than that. From his lips, even so much seemed extravagant
Cosquer had started as a specifically Breton town. You could still hear Breton in these parts if you knew which fishermen's taverns, which sailmakers' shops, which salt-sellers' establishments, to visit. You could also hear English; that had been true long before France lost its Atlantean possessions. But you were most likely to hear French.
And so Victor was not surprised to find himself hailed in that language: "Monsieur le General?"
"I am General Radcliff, yes," he replied, also in French.
"Excellent," said the tall, lean man standing on the pier. "I have the honor to be Captain Luc Froissart, aide-de-camp to the Marquis de la Fayette. Horses await you and your own aide, who would be…?"
Victor gestured. "Here is Sergeant Blaise Black, who has been my man of affairs since long before this war began."
Captain Froissart had bushy eyebrows. They jumped when he got a good look at Blaise's dark, impassive face. "How most extremely interesting!" he said. "I am sure the marquis will be delighted to acquaint himself with both of you. Is it that the sergeant speaks and comprehends French?"