Land of the Free (22 page)

He pulled his hand away and
tried to talk.

Marina now saw the bandaged
hand and that Yank’s teeth had been knocked out or pulled. “We have
a son. I named him John but we can change it if you
want.”

He tried to answer but began
coughing.

“Sally is here,” Marina
said. “She will have you well before you know it.”

~

“He ain’t half as bad as he
looks,” Sally said. “That cough worries me some but if we can gets
him on his feet and movin’ around it should pass.”

“On his feet,” Tom repeated.
“He’s half dead.”

“His lungs needs to drain,”
Sally replied. “He been on his back too long.”

Nannette fixed Tom with a
look that could have nailed him to his chair. “How about his hands
and face, Sally?”

“His fingers was broke but
not mashed,” Sally answered. “I got ‘em all straight and splinted.
The bone’ll knit fine and the nails’ll grow back. His nose ain’t
never gonna be pretty again. I couldn’t do much with that. They say
there’s a man in Groton that carves teeth outta whale bone that
looks jus’ like the real things.” She turned her back to the fire.
“Y’all needs to let Miss Marina nurse him.”

Nannette looked
doubtful.

“That girl already been a
wonder to him,” Sally said. “I could see him gettin’ stronger by
the minute.”

“Magic?” Tom asked
skeptically.

“You could call it that, Mr.
Tom,” Sally replied. “I’m thinking that Mr. Yank was a’ scared that
Miss Marina wouldn’t want him no more, and now that she plainly do,
he’s getting’ his-self better.” She gestured toward the stairs. “Go
see if he don’t look better. Go ahead on.”

Nannette glanced at Tom and
stood up. “Shall we?”

He nodded and got to his
feet. “Can you stay, Sally?”

“As long as you wants me
to,” she said. “I’d do most anything for Mr. John and Miss Anna’s
boy.”

June 24, 1805

Van Buskirk Point, New
Jersey

“We can call him Jack,”
Marina said.

Yank nodded. He was in the
rocking chair on the front porch next to her, and had the infant
cradled in his arms.

Marina picked up a newspaper
that Tom had left and scanned the front page. “Admiral Villeneuve,
with eleven ships, has escaped from Toulon and passed the Strait of
Gibraltar where he has joined a Spanish flotilla at Cádiz.” She
looked at Yank. “That will keep the British Navy busy and away from
us for a time.”

Yank nodded.

Marina sat up in the chair
and shaded her eyes. “Someone’s coming.”

Yank held the baby toward
her.

She folded the newspaper,
got up and took the child. “Don’t go in, John. Whoever it is has
come to wish you well. You can’t hide forever.”

With a grunt, Yank got to
his feet and hobbled into the house.

Marina walked down the steps
and watched as the visitor cantered his horse across the causeway
and turned toward the house.

“Now there’s a man that can
sit a horse,” Tom said, as he joined her.

“Who is he?” she
asked.

“He looks familiar but I
can’t really say.”

“Are you armed?”

“No. You’re safe here,
Marina.”

“I hope so.”

The rider approached and
took off his hat. “Good day to you, folks. My name is Andrew
Jackson and I’ve come to ask about young John Van Buskirk’s
health.”

Tom walked forward and
reached up to shake Jackson’s hand. “I’m Tom Van Buskirk. I think
you know my wife, Nannette.”

Jackson shook Tom’s hand.
“Indeed I do, Colonel. I knew your brother as well. The two of them
talked so much about you that I almost think I know you too. But I
just missed meetin’ you by a few days. You’d just gone north with
George Rogers Clark.” He put his hat back on.

“Why don’t you get down,
Colonel Jackson?” Tom asked. “My wife’s gone to New York but should
be back shortly.” He beckoned toward the barn and Abraham ran
toward them.

Jackson dismounted and gave
the reins to the boy. “How’s young John doin’?”

“Poorly.” Tom gestured
toward Marina. “This is his wife and his son.”

Jackson smiled and walked
closer. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”

“I’m honored, Judge,” she
said.

“I quit the court,” Jackson
replied. “I’d be happy if you would call me Andy.”

“Only if you will call me
Marina.”

“That would be a pleasure,
Marina.” He looked toward the house.

“Perhaps we could sit on the
porch for a few minutes, Andy,” Marina suggested. “John was badly
beaten by the Spaniards and he is reluctant to see
visitors.”

Tom nodded. “He’s sure to
have seen you ride up. Let’s give him a few minutes to screw up his
courage. I’m sure he’ll join us.”

“I disagree with Colonel Van
Buskirk,” Marina said. “I think that John is not likely to join
us.” She led the way up the steps. “Pulling out his teeth was one
of the methods that the Spaniards used to torture him and he cannot
speak clearly. That and his appearance have made him reclusive
during his convalescence.”

“I surely don’t want to
cause the boy any distress,” Jackson said.

A maid appeared in the
doorway and looked questioningly at Tom.

“Would you like something
cold to drink, Colonel Jackson?” Tom asked. “Or tea,
perhaps.”

“Let me see to some
refreshment,” Marina said before Jackson could answer. She hurried
into the house followed by the maid. “Can you serve tea on the
porch please, Martha?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Should I use
the good china?”

“I should think so, but you
might be the better judge.”

“Is that man
important?”

“Important? Yes. Yes, he is.
Quite important, I believe.”

“Then we’ll use the good
service.” The woman hurried toward the kitchen.

Marina climbed the stairs
and gave the baby to the nurse who was waiting expectantly, then
went into the bedroom where Yank was staring out the window.
“Colonel Jackson came a very long way to see you.”

Yank shook his
head.

“You speak better than you
think you do,” she insisted. “I can understand every word you
say.”

He shook his head
again.

“Very well,” she sighed.
“We’ll be having tea on the porch if you change your mind. I’m sure
your Aunt Nannette will invite him to stay the night at
least.”

September 2,
1805

Washington, District of
Columbia

James Madison hurried around
his desk to shake Yank’s hand. “I am most happy to see you again,
Colonel.”

“And I you, sir,” Yank
replied.

“Please have a seat.”
Madison returned to his chair behind his desk, sat down and opened
a bound volume. “Your report has been very helpful.”

“I fear that my mapmaking
was a failure.”

Madison waved his hand in
dismissal. “The details of the boundaries can be determined easily
enough in due time. Your description of your travel is invaluable.
Before your report, we knew practically nothing about the
southwestern Indians or how the Spanish governed New Spain. Your
country is grateful for your service.”

“Thank you, sir. Something
that I did not mention in my report is my impression that there is
a growing public disapproval of Spanish government within the area
north of El Paso.”

“Really?” Madison raised his
eyebrows. “That might help us in our efforts to establish the
disputed portions of Texas.”

“The Spaniards themselves
seem to hold a distinction between the territory of Texas and the
territory of New Mexico. I cannot be sure, but my impression is
that the Rockies are the east-west dividing line that they
use.”

“We shall press for the Rio
Bravo in the south and the Rio Grande in the west.”

“You are aware, sir, that
they are the same river?”

“Yes, yes. But the Spanish
call it the Rio Bravo from El Paso eastward to the Gulf and they
call it the Rio Grande from El Paso northward to the headwaters
somewhere above Santa Fe. The maps of northern New Mexico are
poor.” Madison closed the book. “Are you well enough to undertake a
new task, Colonel?”

“With the exception of my
appearance, I am perfectly recovered, sir.”

“Good, good. Very good.” He
pulled a folder across the desk but didn’t open it. “Are you aware
that our United States Merchant Marine is the largest neutral fleet
in the world?”

“No, sir.”

“Well we are, and by a very
wide margin.” He opened the folder. “Because of our rapid
expansion, many of our ships’ captains are naturalized citizens.
The British do not recognize our right to naturalize citizens and
they consider any former British seamen to be deserters. They use
that argument to intercept and search our vessels.”

Yank nodded. “That I did
know, sir.”

“It is my opinion, not
shared by the President or anyone else in this cabinet, that
another war between the United States and Great Britain is
inevitable.”

“I quite agree,
sir.”

“Do you? May I ask
why?”

“You might recall, sir, that
I was stationed in the Northwest Territory before my current
assignment as your liaison.”

“Yes of course. It was the
primary reason that I asked for you.”

“The Indians that we
encountered in the Northwest Territory were supplied and encouraged
by the British.”

Madison nodded. “When that
was first reported, I called upon the British ambassador demanding
that it cease immediately. He admitted some involvement with the
tribes in the past but flatly denied any currently. Lacking proof I
was reluctant to raise the issue with Parliament through our
ambassadors.”

“Tecumseh’s braves carry
English muskets and swords, Mr. Secretary. As do many other tribes
in the Northwest.”

Madison closed the folder
again. “How might we go about proving that, Colonel Van
Buskirk?”

“We could capture a band
with their weapons and then interrogate them before neutral
witnesses.”

“Is there any such neutral
party in the world today?”

“Perhaps not,
sir.”

“But there is merit in your
idea if the captured Indians would agree to confess to the British
Ambassador,” Madison said.

Yank brightened. “Such an
agreement might be reasonably easy to obtain. The loyalty of
Indians is transient at best. In their hearts, they see all white
men as their enemies and they only ally themselves with us when,
and as long, as it serves their needs. In the long term, they wish
to drive us all, American, British, French, Spanish or otherwise,
back into the sea.”

“I hope you are wrong in
your assessment, Colonel, but I fear that you are not.” Madison
sighed. “We have reports of Tecumseh’s attempting to form an Indian
confederacy that stretches all the way from Canada to Florida. I
would like you to ascertain the accuracy of those reports and to
access the threat if they prove to be true.”

“Yes, sir.”

Madison selected a note that
was spindled prominently and glanced at it. “And I have been
reminded by my dear wife to invite you to her next Wednesday
evening drawing room. It seems that I forgot to do so when last you
were here.” He chuckled, dropped the note into the waste paper
basket and handed Yank a small, engraved invitation
card.

“I would be honored, Mr.
Secretary.” Yank looked at the invitation then quickly back at
Madison. “This says the White House.”

“Yes. As you may know,
President Jefferson is a widower, so Dolley – that is, my wife,
acts as hostess for White House social events and as ceremonial
First Lady. She had the idea of these little receptions on
Wednesdays to provide President Jefferson with a less formal method
of meeting his friends and rivals.”

“Except that the President
was a widower, I fear that I knew none of that, sir. But I will be
very pleased and honored to attend.”

“You must bring your wife,
of course. Mrs. Madison is eager to meet her.”

“Yes, sir.” Yank stood up.
“Thank you, sir.”

“I thank you, Colonel, as
does your country.”

~

“The White House?” Marina
repeated. “The Presidential mansion?”

“Yes.”

“I have nothing to
wear.”

“You always say
that.”

“This time I mean it, John.
Dolley Madison is a legend. It was she who decorated and furnished
the White House.”

“I fail to see what bearing
that has upon your dress.”

“One cannot attend one of
her functions wearing a simple dress. It is not done.”