Shattered Moments (9 page)

July
1779

Savannah

Finn pulled his hat lower to keep the blazing sun out of his eyes and walked down the street at a brisk pace.  He’d never been this far south before, and he hoped never to be again.  The heat was unbearable, and he felt a trickle of sweat snake down his back and into the waistband of his breeches as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand to keep the perspiration from running into his eyes.  He wished he could take off his coat, but it seemed inappropriate, especially since all the passersby were properly attired and not showing any signs of being uncomfortable.  Maybe they were just used to the climate, having lived here all their lives.  He was gratified to see that the British soldiers were sweltering in their wool tunics, their pasty English faces red and glistening with sweat.

Finn looked around in dismay.  He’d been hoping to find some sort of haberdashery shop where he could buy a gift for Abbie, but so far he’d seen nothing that fit the bill.  Georgia was a relatively new colony
compared to Virginia, and Savannah, although the capital, wasn’t nearly as cosmopolitan or prosperous as Williamsburg.  Finn had learned during his short stay there that most of the colonist’s wealth came from either exporting deer hides, or growing rice in the marshes outside the city tended by Negro slaves who were brought to Savannah expressly for that purpose.  He’d never tasted rice until two days ago, and the verdict was still out on whether he liked it or not.  It had a strange texture, which sort of reminded him of barley.  The taste was kind of odd, too.  By itself, it was rather tasteless, but when mixed into the gravy from the meat, it was quite delicious.  Maybe he should buy a small bag of rice and take home with him.  Mrs. Mallory could cook it up with some venison stew.  The rice, mixed with meat, carrots, onions, and wild garlic, would make a nice change from their usual fare and give them a taste of the south. 

Finn felt his stomach growl as he thought of food.  He hadn’t eaten since early this morning, and the heel of bread and cup of milk he was given at the small boarding house did nothing to keep the hunger at bay.  It was well past noon
, and he was ready for something more substantial.  He’d buy something for Abbie, then go get a hot meal somewhere before heading out of Savannah.

The information he’d come to collect was already hidden in a secret compartment sewn into his
coat by Mrs. Mallory, detailing the number of British troops in the area, positions of cannon and stores of ammunition.  An invasion of Savannah was being carefully planned by the Continental Army, so the information he was carrying would be invaluable.  The whole thing had been relatively uneventful, the Redcoats disinterested in a young man in civilian clothes who sauntered past them with secrets for the Rebels.  The soldiers were everywhere, but they seemed to move slower somehow, maybe from the heat, or maybe from the knowledge that there was no immediate threat.  They called out greetings to each other as they passed, and snippets of laughter reached Finn’s ears as someone told a bawdy joke.  The bayonets and gorgets at the soldiers’ throats gleamed in the sun, casting rays of light onto the faces of the already overheated men and blinding anyone who looked at them directly. 

Finn just looked around, happy in the knowledge that they wouldn’t win the war.  His mother didn’t remember details, but she remembered the important things, like some decisive battles
which led to the defeat of the British.  Too bad she hadn’t mentioned anything about Georgia.  It would be nice to know that his reconnaissance wasn’t in vain.  Finn stopped in front of a shop displaying colorful ribbons and swathes of fabric.  This was exactly what he needed.  Maybe he’d buy a bit of lace for Abbie to make a new tucker or trim her mob cap.

Abbie wasn’t hugely impressed by luxurious things and would likely save the lace for a special occasion, but his motives for getting it were entirely selfish.  He knew how she fretted, and who could blame her after what she’d be
en through in New York?  Buying a gift was so much more than bringing something home with him.  It was a non-verbal way of conveying to Abbie that he hadn’t been in danger.  He had time to stroll around town, go into shops, and pick out a present before leaving Savannah.  It would put her mind at rest to know that he’d been safe the whole time.

Finn was about to enter the store when something caught his eye.  Two six-pointed stars were on either side of the sign; quite small, but distinctive.  His contact had
mentioned that many Sephardic Jews settled in Savannah, having come from Spain in search of a new homeland.  Finn was curious about those people.  Were they like Spaniards or were they like the few Jews he’d seen in New York, dressed all in black and wearing a little cap beneath their hats, their strange curled forelocks swaying above their cheeks.  He pushed open the door and entered just as a bell chimed above his head. 

The man behind the counter was about his age, tall and dark, with eyes that glinted like pieces of onyx in his swarthy face.  He looked decidedly more Spanish than the men in
New York, Finn concluded as he noted his uncovered head and lack of forelocks.  A beautiful woman came into the store from the back; her lustrous black curls piled high on her head and covered with a lace cap which covered only the bun, and not the rest of her hair which framed her face.  She had the same black eyes and an olive complexion, and bore a strong resemblance to the man – probably his sister. 

Finn wondered if their family had at some point escaped the Inquisition and fled Spain.  Where had people like them gone, and had it been better? 
Probably not, if they wound up in Georgia.  They were strangers in a strange land, but at least they were better off than the Negroes who’d been plucked from their homes, and brought to the New World in chains, aboard slavers where they were treated worse than any animal; left to wallow in their own filth until finally being sold off at auction to people who didn’t even see them as human beings.  At least the Jews were free and able to own their own shop, if not to worship openly.  They probably went to church with everyone else and then held their own services at home, much as his father did at Rosewood Manor.  Funny that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

The woman
smiled shyly at Finn, and he smiled back, realizing that he’d been so caught up in his own musings, he hadn’t replied to her offer of help.  The lace had been too expensive, so Finn chose a mauve ribbon which would look so lovely in Abbie’s golden hair, and a little cloth dolly with yarn hair and button eyes. 

“My sister makes them herself,” the man said proudly.  “All the little girls in Savannah want one, don’t they
, Leah?  Every dolly is a little different.”  Leah blushed as she wrapped up Finn’s purchases. 

“I started making them as a little girl because I had no one to play with
,” Leah explained, her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment, “but I wanted to give each one her own personality, so I used different color yarn for the hair and unique buttons for each doll.”  She handed Finn his parcel tied with a piece of twine.  “I hope your little girl likes it.”

“I
’ve no doubt she will,” Finn replied, taking the package and bidding them farewell as he left the store. 
How wonderful it would be to own a shop
, he thought,
but maybe one that sold books
.  Maybe after the war was finally over, Abbie and him could move to town and open up a shop of their own.  He hated farming.  It was backbreaking work that never seemed to end.  As soon as you finished one thing, there were twenty more to see to. 

He could almost see himself running a prosperous book shop, his name in gold letters on a green background over the door; the front window displaying the latest books from the Colonies and around the world. 
Maybe he could even get his mother to write and illustrate a picture book for children which he could then have printed and offered for sale.  She was a fine artist, and could duplicate something she’d seen in the twenty-first century.  She said that books and toys for children were big business in the future, but in the eighteenth century people hardly bothered with entertainment for the kids.  Only children of the wealthy had handmade toys, made by master craftsmen who created works of art rather than playthings.  Working people couldn’t afford to buy china dolls dressed in satin and silk for their little girls, or rocking horses that looked just like real horses, with flowing manes and strong flanks that were almost the size of a real pony.  Maybe he could introduce some affordable toys into his bookshop as well, Finn thought, suddenly inspired.   

Finn was so caught up in his fantasy, he barely noticed the older man walking toward him
.  The man was a high-ranking British officer judging by his uniform, but his face was obscured by the black tricorn that threw a dark shadow over his features so at odds with the whiteness of his wig.  His rigid bearing bespoke of years in the military, and his uniform was pristine despite the heat, his gold gorget gleaming in the sun and casting a golden glow over the lower part of his face.  Finn was about to pass by when the man grabbed his arm roughly, startling him out of his reverie and forcing him to look more closely at the blazing eyes and clenched jaw of the officer who accosted him. 

“You!”
the man hissed.  Finn found himself gazing into the enraged face of Major Horace Weland.  The man was panting with fury; his lips stretched into a humorless grin of triumph as he brought his face closer to Finn’s.  “You’re not getting away this time, you scoundrel.  You will hang, as will your wife once I find out where she’s hiding.” 

Finn had scored a major victory against the Major when he managed to escape arrest in New York and then free Abbie just before her execution for spying.  The Major wasn’t
accustomed to being outwitted, and the humiliation must have burned in him all this time, eating at him like a cancer and causing him to doubt himself.  If the Major managed to get Finn to headquarters, he was as good as dead.  He had one chance to get away, and it had to be now.  Finn brought the heel of his boot down on the Major’s foot as hard as he could and yanked his arm out of the vicious grip, taking off at a run down the dusty street.  He had to get off the main thoroughfare as quickly as possible as there were British soldiers within shouting distance who could help the Major.

“Stop him!” the major
bellowed.  Several soldiers immediately responded to the plea for help and joined the chase.  Finn turned corner after corner, trying to lose his pursuers, but all he heard was the stomping of boots and the shouts of Major Weland. “Don’t shoot.  I want him alive.”

Finn’s heart pounded against his rib cage more from fear than from running so fast.  He was in good physical shape and could run for miles, but so were the soldiers.  They were hampered by muskets and tight uniforms, but they weren’t far behind
, and he was as trapped as a rat in a maze.  Had this been New York or Philadelphia, there’d be more places to hide, but Savannah wasn’t a sprawling metropolis, more a growing town where he was bound to get caught very quickly if he continued to run.  The next group of British soldiers who spotted him would apprehend him, correctly assuming that he was running from the law.  He needed a place to hide while he still had the advantage.  Finn vaulted over a low wall of someone’s back garden and erupted into a kitchen, where a stunned girl screamed in terror. 

“Help me, please
, the soldiers are after me,” Finn begged.  She just pointed to the stairs leading to the cellar. 

“Go, and stay there till I tell you to come out,” she whispered urgently, regaining her composure surprisingly fast.  Finn ran down the stairs and hid in the darkest corner behind some sacks of flour.  His lungs were burning and his breath came fast and hard, made more difficult by the dust in the cellar. 
Finn looked around.  There was no other way out of the cellar and he was effectively trapped, with no way out and no place to hide.  If the girl decided to betray him, he was finished.  Finn looked around for a weapon, but there was nothing to hand, not even a shovel or a rake. 

The best he could do was throw some flour into the eyes of the soldiers, which would buy him about ten
seconds, he thought bitterly.  His chances of fighting his way out were nonexistent.  Finn forced himself to breathe evenly as he considered his options, which were few.  If taken, he would be brought to headquarters, where he would be sentenced and locked up until execution.  His only chance of escape would be once they hauled him outside, assuming he was still conscious.  Once they locked him up, he would be guarded and fettered, which would make escape impossible, especially since there was no one to help him. 

Finn put his head into his hands and muttered an urgent prayer.  He suddenly wondered if God got angry with people who
didn’t much believe in him until they needed help and came begging, as he did.  He didn’t have much time to ponder this once he heard the thudding of boots on the wooden floor above, and the infuriated voice of Major Weland as he questioned the girl. 

“Yes, sir, he did come this way.  Scared me something awful, he did.
”  Her voice rang clear, a note of defiance creeping in as she answered the Major.  “A thief, is he?” 

“Worse
—
a rebel,” Major Weland barked.  “Where did he go?”

“He ran right through the house, sir, and came out the other side into the street, and after I just swept the floors.”  The girl sounded irritated, the cleanliness of the floors clearly very important to her.