Land of the Free (42 page)

“I do not understand,
Marina. What is there in that God-forsaken place?”

“A man.”

“A man? Perhaps you mean a
lover.”

“Perhaps.”

“Is that why you came here?”
he growled. “To beg for passage north to follow your adulterous
lover?”

“Who are you to judge me?”
she shouted. “You who are a thief and a murderer.”

“But I am an honorable thief
and murderer,” he answered.

Marina laughed. “Yes. I must
give you that. You are nearly as blindly honorable as my late
husband.” She looked out to sea. “And to answer your question, I
did not come here intent on going north until you told me that I am
a widow.”

Lafitte shook his head.
“Have you any money?”

“No. But I have this.” She
gave him a wanted poster and a scrap of an envelope. “I thought you
might advance me enough to make the trip in exchange for the
reward.”

“What value are
these?”

“Five hundred gold
pesos.”

“But I have to kill you to
collect,” he laughed. “Or I suppose I could deliver you
alive.”

“Think, Jean. All you must
do is deliver the body of a woman and that piece of paper. If you
say that the woman had it in her possession it should be proof
enough of her identity.”

“Where am I to find a
woman’s body?”

“Do you not occasionally
kill women by accident when you take your prizes?” She waved at the
village. “Do not women die here?” She pointed toward the Louisiana
coast. “If nothing else you can rob a grave or pay a small fee to a
mortician.”

“Very well, we have a deal.”
He looked thoughtful. “But I may not be able to get you there
before all the rivers freeze solid.”

“Just get me to the Atlantic
coast at Pennsylvania or New Jersey and I will get the rest of the
way on my own.”

“I can do that very easily,
if you do not mind traveling on a British ship.”

“I do not mind if it is the
devil’s ship.”

“You could discover it to be
exactly so. The English crews are mainly impressed Americans who
have been seized from their own ships. Discipline aboard is
maintained by the lash. The captain may not have time to watch over
you.”

“I still have the little
pepper pot you gave me.”

“Pepperbox,” he corrected.
“Let me think about this.”

“Perhaps one of your ships
could just take me to Pensacola or Cuba. From either place I should
be able to find a British ship bound for New England.”

“Perhaps I could save all
the trouble and simply throw you off the quay where you could be
devoured by sharks instead of by men.”

“I can handle
men.”

“Are you mad,
Marina?”

“That is very
possible.”

November 29,
1812

Quebec, Canada

General Sir George Prévost
ducked under the low lintel above the dungeon’s door and walked to
the guard who had come to ridged attention. “Where is the American
colonel, John Van Buskirk?”

“Right there, sir.” The
guard almost dropped his weapon as he pointed. “Third cell, sir. On
the left.”

Prévost stepped carefully
through the puddles until he reached the third door of iron bars
then squinted into the darkness. “Hello, Yank. Are you in
there?”

“Unfortunately.” Yank got up
from the iron cot and walked forward into the meager light. “What
should I call you? Baron, General, Sir George, Governor or Mr.
President?”

“George will do.”

New Jersey born, Prévost,
had been an officer in the British army since he was eleven. In
January 1808, Prévost was promoted to lieutenant general and
appointed as governor of Nova Scotia. In 1811he was promoted to
commander-in-chief of British forces in North America,
governor-in-chief of British North America and president of Lower
Canada.

Yank extended his right hand
through the bars. “Hello, George.”

Prévost shook Yank’s hand
warmly. “After the battle of Detroit you were reported as missing
so I ordered Isaac Brock to find you. Then he was killed. I only
learned that you were here yesterday.”

“I’m happy to see you
looking so well, even under the circumstances, George.”

“Are you badly
hurt?”

“No. I had a few bumps at
Detroit but I’m over them now.”

“If you would agree not to
bear arms again, I could parole you.”

“I couldn’t agree to that
but I would ask a favor.”

“What?”

“I was with a woman when
Tecumseh captured me. If she’s still alive, perhaps you could get
her released.”

Prévost looked confused for
a moment. “They didn’t capture her, Yank.”

“Tecumseh told me they
did.”

“He lied then. They didn’t
so much as touch her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was the one
condition that her brother demanded.”

“He turned me in?” Yank
asked incredulously. “The doctor?”

“He said that he had a duty
as a physician to heal you but not to protect you from the
law.”

“The law?”

Prévost shrugged. “That’s
what his statement said. I just read it a short time
ago.”

“Damn.”

“Do you have woman troubles,
my friend?”

“No.” Yank shook his
head.

Prévost decided to change
the subject. “I recently saw your uncle and several of your cousins
in Nova Scotia.”

“The dead ones?” Yank
replied. They were speaking of the Loyalist Van Buskirks who had
been banished to Nova Scotia after the Revolutionary
War.

“Jacob asked of
you.”

“I have never met the
man.”

“He was devoted to your
father and mother.”

“That wasn’t the way I heard
it.”

Prévost glanced toward the
guard. “Look here, Yank. I’d like to try a prisoner
exchange.”

“That would suit me fine,
George.”

“Do you know anyone with
good political connections? Otherwise, if I make the offer, they’ll
accept but then demand someone with a higher rank than you when the
time comes.”

“How about James
Madison?”

Prévost chuckled. “Really? I
could address an exchange offer to him and he would exchange for
you?”

“I can’t guarantee it, since
I don’t know who you have, but he’s the most politically connected
man I know.”

Prévost bobbed his head.
“Well then I’ll try it.”

“Thank you
George.”

“Yank?”

“Yes?”

“The men who were there at
Fort Lernoult swear that you caught a cannonball that would have
killed General Hull. Is there any truth to it?”

“No. If it had been aimed at
Hull, I would have let it take the bastard and Fort Detroit would
still be in American control.”

February 21, 1813

Washington, District of
Columbia

“You look extremely well for
a dead man,” Madison said, pumping Yank’s hand
enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Mr. President,”
Yank replied with a grin. “And if I may be so bold, you look very
tired.”

Madison colored a bit. “Yes,
well, thank you for your concern, Colonel. This job is sometimes
tiring. Please sit down.”

Yank waited for the
President to sit before taking a seat. “Forgive me, sir. My comment
was inappropriate.”

“No it wasn’t, Colonel. We
have become friends after all, and friends have the right to make
such observations.” He glanced at his notes. “Before I forget, I
must ask you not to reveal the purpose of your mission to Fort
Detroit, Colonel Van Buskirk.”

“Of course, sir. I would
never discuss your business with anyone.”

“Do you, by chance, still
have the order that I wrote, relieving General Hull of his
command?”

“No, sir.”

“Does it exist?”

“I cannot say for certain,
sir. It may be in the possession of the physician that cared for
me. I could probably recover it if it is very
important.”

“No. I don’t suppose it to
be that important but it would be embarrassing. I presume you know
that General Hull has been sentenced to death?”

Yank nodded. “I have heard
so, sir.”

“The court, however, has
recommended mercy, which is just a way to wash their hands of it,
in the style reminiscent of Pontius Pilate.”

Yank hesitated. “Sir. I know
that General Dearborn is your friend but it seems improper to me
that he should preside over the court martial of a subordinate that
claims he received inadequate support from his
superiors.”

“I am very much aware of
that, Colonel, very much. But the court has ruled and the sentence
they passed is death. Now it is in my hands; so I ask you, who were
there: Do General Hull’s actions in the face of the enemy warrant
execution?”

Yank thought a moment before
answering. “When I was hit, I was in the midst of a violent
argument with the general. His side of the argument was based upon
the lives of the women and children inside the fort. Mine was to
fight until the enemy’s strength could be more properly assessed. I
am confident that he truly believed the enemy to be overwhelming
and I am equally convinced that he was intentionally deceived by
Tecumseh.”

“Which does not answer my
question, Colonel.”

Yank squirmed. “I would
commute the sentence if the decision was mine, sir.”

“Then we agree.”

“So you will commute the
sentence?”

“Yes. I had already decided
to do so, but your testimony will help me defend the
decision.”

“I shall write you a letter
stating my opinion, sir.”

“Thank you. That would be
very helpful. I seem to have more political enemies than friends
these days, and they take every opportunity to ridicule and
second-guess me. Now perhaps you understand why I asked you about
that letter relieving General Hull of his command.”

“
Yes, of course I do,
sir.”

Madison began sorting
papers, looking for something. “During our last meeting - or was it
the one before?” Madison shook his head. “During a prior meeting I
asked your opinion of a superior and you declined a direct answer
stating that it would be improper for you to criticize someone in
your chain of command.”

“Sir, that was…” Yank
stopped when Madison raised his hand.

“Forgive my ignorance,
Colonel, but would the same rules of conduct apply were I to ask
your opinion of naval officers?”

“Naval officers? No, sir.
Not under our current structure of independent departments of the
army and navy. But I should add that I don’t know enough about
naval tactics to be a competent judge.”

“Good and bad leaders are
the same in both branches,” Madison said dismissively. “You know
the difference.”

Yank had a notion of what
was coming and he tried to think of a way to head off the
president. “A number of my family members are ship’s captains,
sir.”

“Two of them, Van Buskirk
and Decatur, are above question. If you run across any others while
you’re in the north, I’m confident that you will be impartial.” He
found what he was looking for, read for a moment and then looked up
at Yank. “I think you have a passing acquaintance with Captain
Alexander Percy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s currently supervising
the building of a small fleet at Dobbin’s Landing. I’d like you to
go up there for a visit.”

“May I ask why,
sir?”

“Percy is a close friend of
Isaac Chauncey, who, as you well know, is the commander of naval
operations on the lakes.”

“Yes sir.”

“I have no reason to doubt
Commodore Chauncey’s appointment of Captain Percy, but control of
Lake Erie hinges on building and commanding those ships. I would
like your independent opinion of Captain Percy’s competence to
confirm Chauncey’s decision in my own mind.”

“Where is Dobbin’s Landing,
sir?”

“Presque Isle Bay of Lake
Erie. Off the coast of Ohio.” He hesitated. “Or Pennsylvania. I am
uncertain of which. Do you need a map?”

“No, sir. The difference
between the two is but a few miles. I’ll find it.”

“Fine, fine.” Madison
shuffled some papers then looked up at Yank absentmindedly. “Is
there anything else?”

“Something in writing with a
copy to the Secretaries of the Army and Navy might keep me out of
trouble, sir,” Yank said, getting to his feet.

“Yes, of course. I can do
that and have your copy ready by tomorrow. If I’m not available
just ask my aide for it.” Madison stood up and offered his hand.
“In case I miss you tomorrow, good luck, Colonel and stay safe.
I’ve come to depend upon you.”