Barkskins (28 page)

Hitchbone smiled, returned to the Wentworths. “I remember what your father used to say about old Wentworth. ‘His foot shall slide in due time.' Deuteronomy.”

Bernard laughed. “It ain't yet slid. A wily and unscrupulous man.”

“Forgeron amassed considerable wealth, but I was always surprised that he lived as a wild Indan on game and maize. His was a lonely life.” He lowered his voice. “I wonder who will inherit his properties.”

Bernard's eyebrows rose. He ignored the question. No doubt everyone in the room was squirming with curiosity to know Forgeron's bequests, not the usual tiresome accounts of linens, laying hens and chairs, but his timberland holdings. “Perhaps not so lonely. I have heard he had a dozen Indian consorts. May I fetch you another dollop of syllabub?”

“My dears,” said Birgit, striding up to them, “the syllabub is quite finished. Do try the maple cream cakes. Piet, dear boy, come with me instead of standing here like a fence listening to these old fogies mumble. There is a gentleman I think you would like to know.” Joab Hitchbone thought once more that she had an especially sweet and gentle voice, the voice of an innocent girl, not the tough old matron she looked.

•  •  •

While the Indian slaves cleared the table the women followed Mercy into the second parlor, where there were turkey-work chairs with the look of wooden animals, four or five small tables scattered among them like waterholes. The women sat in front of the fire sipping China tea and laughing over rumors that the pope worshiper Duc de Richelieu had invited dinner guests to dine in the nude. “And,” said Birgit, “we have heard that after his spring ‘success'—if we may call it that—over the English at Port Mahon, his chef invented a sumptuous dressing of olive oil and egg yolk. The duke called it ‘
mahonnaise.
' ” They made some wordplay over the juxtaposition of nude diners and dressed viands.

“The table looked brilliantly handsome tonight, dear Mercy,” said Birgit.

“Oh, pshaw! Nothing compared to your exquisite collations—those blue dishes with gold rims.”

“You really are too kind, my dear. But, you know, four of them slid to a smash in that untoward earthquake a year past. We nearly fell out of the bed. I told Bernard that if this is one of the delights of New England I would prefer Chimborazo. I still do not understand how, if the tremor was located at Cape Ann as they say, it damaged so much in Boston.”

Mercy sighed and said, “I expect there will be more such grief in our days as human depravity continues to irk the Omnipotent.”

•  •  •

The evening wore on, Mercy several times raising her hand to her temple and sighing. At last she admitted what they all knew.

“My dear guests, what I dreaded has come to pass.” She called the slave girl to bring cold water and her headache powder.

“I must retire,” she said and went to a back room scented with orris root and reserved for headache recovery, murmuring general farewells.

“Poor Mercy,” said Sarah. “Those headaches are truly her cross. A pity after such an evening.”

“Yes, but a great deal of work. Mother is not really strong enough for this,” Patience said and waved her hand at the room and all that was in it.

The guests, taking the hostess's retreat as a signal, began to leave by ones and twos. Nicolaus pressed their hands, made apologies for Mercy and begged them to come again soon on a happier occasion. Henk Steen the bookkeeper bowed, bowed and grinned as he backed toward the door. Nicolaus half-expected him to tug his forelock.

“Peace be with you and your syllabub,” murmured Joab Hitchbone, doddering down the steps.

T
hen the outsiders were gone except for Jan's hollow-chested father-in-law, James Pickering, once a notorious molasses smuggler, and the judge, Louis Bluzzard. The judge's trousers were too thin and emphasized the manly bulge, the more disturbing as he was elderly.

“Judge, do show my brothers that paper,” said Jan, his long fingers tapping the side of his rum glass. Jan was the one who clinched deals with merchants and arranged contracts; he worked out complex shipping arrangements. He had the duty of smoothing the ruffled feelings of men who were aggrieved by Duke & Sons' business proceedings, in part because he had the dispassionate nature of one who cares for nothing, too often mistaken for neutrality. In his private mind he wished the ax for all royalists.

The judge passed around a rather grubby newspaper, the
Pennsylvania Gazette
. The page showed an illustration of a snake cut into many parts, each segment with the label of one of the colonies and the motto below,
JOIN OR DIE
.

“There are so many papers these days,” George said, rolling his eyes.

“Ha!” said Nicolaus. “That's that fellow Franklin. I knew his brother James. A family distinguished for their seditious bosoms. Ben is back here or in Connecticut now and I can tell you that this joined colonial snake he calls for can never happen. There are too many here who are English to the bone, for all they were born here. And the tobacco colonies are markedly different from the fish and forest colonies.” For decades Duke & Sons had managed a precarious balance between their French allegiances and the new ambitious generation of American-born men. A separation of opinions was beginning to surface.

Young Piet ventured a comment. “The forest legislation the Crown has imposed on us has driven a wedge between colonists and England, has it not?” The older men ignored his dim-witted observation.

James Pickering, showing a violet silk waistcoat, spoke. “Let me remind you, dear friends, that this city harbored two of the regicide judges a century back. There are loyalists sprinkled about but the colonial heart desires independence and cherishes a distaste for kings and their men. It is nothing new. And is not forest legislation despised by all American businessmen?” He turned and spat gracefully into the fire.

Jan said, “The tangled situation grows more tangled every day. Louis, tell them what you told me.”

“Ah. That. I ventured to say that England's plans of attack increase the danger to your forest property in Québec. When they take Québec they will take your woodlands.” The judge flicked a glance at Bernard. He considered him a little too fond of French Canada.

“Perhaps,” said Bernard, “but remember that New France has a strong militia. The regional troops are excellent and we have good aid from our Indians. Governor-General Pierre de Rigaud de Vaudreuil, I think, is intelligent and knows the country. I have heard that this Montcalm prefers to fight in European style, sieges and rigid opposing lines—Braddock's great fault. But in New France we have developed the stealthy woodcraft style of the Indians.”

“That is the situation here as well,” said the judge, sneering a little. “Your French half-breeds are hardly singular in their fighting abilities. But beware—there are many houses in Boston where your opinions would sound as treason.”

Bernard ignored this dart. “I have heard also that Montcalm and Vaudreuil loath each other and show it openly.” He sighed. “When the French defeated and killed Braddock I thought that would be the end of it.”

The judge shook his head and gave a hard barking laugh. He stared at Bernard. “I think not. I thoroughly believe England will seize New France using colonial troops however long it takes. The battle on Lake George last September shows their perseverance.” His tone was combative.

Jan thought it time to raise the question. He looked at his son. “George, after your study of the law, what is your opinion on this difficult matter? Where should Duke and Sons bestow its allegiance? France or England?”

“Would it were that simple,” muttered Bernard.

“In our law readings this particular situation never arose, but there were several of us from the colonies who discussed it privately among ourselves.” George puffed himself up a little.

“And what did you think?” Bernard suspected that there in the heart of London studying English law, George would have been and probably still was an advocate for eternal obeisance to England.

“We thought that in terms of law and jurisdictions the colonies were drawing ever more distant from England. The veer became sharply evident in 1686, when the British government, concerned that we were growing too independent and too wealthy on our own abilities, sent Governor Andros to us and revoked our colonial charter.” Well, thought Bernard, so much for obeisance.

Nicolaus said, “After two generations of colonial self-government this was a gross error on their part. Nor did getting rid of Andros repair the situation.”

George boldly put in his oar. “And what do we have today! Englishmen in positions of power who make the decisions that affect us, who rarely know anything of the colonies, have no real experience here nor do they wish to have. They put forth their ukases and rules based on ignorance and self-interest. What matters to them is how much they can squeeze from the colony into their personal strongboxes.”

“It seems not so different in the example of France and New France,” said Bernard, rather surprised at lethargic George's impassioned tone. “It may be the misfortune of all colonies.”

“If the rancorous discontent continues—well, I can point out a legal example that is particularly telling for Duke and Sons as it concerned cutting the forest.” George felt his importance.

“I wonder if I know your reference,” said Nicolaus, squinting his eyes. “Do you mean the Dregg case of about ten years ago?”

“No, I had in mind the Frost case—somewhat earlier than Dregg. In our private discussions we student colonials thought it an important case. It came up only once with the faculty. A lawyer at Inns of Court saw it as evidence of the sly and impudent colonial character.”

Bernard looked at young George. “Will you relieve us of our ignorance? What was this ‘case'?”

“On the face of it, Uncle Bernard, it could have been construed as yet another example of the common tendency of Massachusetts court judgments in favor of colonial lumber millmen accused of trespassing on private land and cutting what they found there.”

“Yes,” said Nicolaus. “Those liberal courts were one of the attractions of the region for our father. And we have endured Surveyors General of His Majesty's Woods, those damnable wretches, for more than sixty-five years. It is right that they suffer in the courts.” He gave a small whinny.

“And how does this dispute you mention differ?”

George looked at Judge Bluzzard.

The judge refilled his glass of rum. “It started, as many of our problems do, in London—think of the massive land grants to Mason and Gorges.” He swallowed.

“To the point, in 1730 the Crown granted a five-year mast procurement license to Ralph Gulston, a Turkey merchant, one of those swarthy fellows who trade with the Levant. The license allowed him to enter any Maine lands belonging to the Crown in 1691—
id est,
public land—and cut mast pines for the Royal Navy.” He nodded at George.

George set out the case of trespass, which hinged on the date of 1691, when the land in question belonged to the Crown. “After some delay, Gulston hired a colonial logger, William Leighton, to cut the pines for him. And through the winter of 1733–34 Leighton cut them and dragged them out. No one objected. However, in the passage of years since 1691, title to the land had passed to an American, John Frost, of Berwick, Maine. The Royal Surveyor General chose to ignore Frost's title. When spring came in 1734, John Frost, waving his legal title, sued Leighton for trespass.”

“I think I know how this must end,” said Bernard. “But continue.”

“Yes. The court—no surprise—found for Frost.”

“By God, I now recall the hubbub,” said Jan. “Leighton stupidly paid the judgment, did he not?”

“He did,” said George, “but—” He extended his hand as though announcing the kingpin fact on which all turned. “On the other side of the ocean when Gulston heard, he began to turn his monstrous wheels. He had the King's ear. In due time a royal order arrived in Boston.”

Judge Bluzzard, smiling like a wolf, took up the tale.

“It was not until June of 1738 that the hearing on the motion came before the court. Everyone was astonished when the court declared it had no authority to execute that royal order. The court's attitude was that its authority was to set out laws and hold courts for events that occurred
only within the province.
They claimed they had no power to enforce what they referred to as ‘a foreign judgment.' It was the same as if they had declared an intention to disobey that royal order. Do you see? It was the same as if they had said, ‘The King is a foreigner and he is nothing to do with us.' It was a triumph for the independent American spirit.”

“Sir!” cried Jan, as if to warn of agents who might have heard this traitorous remark.

Bernard closed the discussion by bringing them back to the simpler question of how they should choose sides—England or France. “We may ask ourselves what Father would do.”

“Hardly difficult. He threw in his lot with the English when he left New France.”

“Father did not reckon on the growing discontent of the colonies with each other
and
with England as Franklin's severed snake shows. Today our situation is rather different.”

“I agree,” said Jan. “There is increasing murmuration that the colonies should join together and flout England. We already do so flout when it comes to timber and shipbuilding, to smuggling and molasses. The constant promulgation of punitive acts and taxes do threaten our region's livelihood. If we were not the creature of England we would thrive greatly.”

Bernard smiled. “As businessmen must we not maintain cordial relations with all parties? The French, the English and the colonials both south and north—and the Wentworths?”