War (24 page)

The other burgess had nothing to say in reply.

Four days after Dunmore moved his office and quarters to the
Fowey
, the House resolved itself into a Committee of the Whole and took up the matter of Lord North’s Olive Branch proposals. Edgar Cullis kept his promise, and argued that Lord North’s proposals were a gesture of friendship, affection, and charity, and that their rejection would amount to criminal ingratitude. “It is hoped,” he concluded, “that this House will reciprocate him in these very sentiments in conformity to its noble purpose.”

By chance, Cullis had taken a seat next to Hugh. Hugh turned to him and remarked, “A fine speech, sir, one worthy of the ear of the Commons.”

Cullis’s face reddened, but he managed to reply, “I shall treat that as a compliment, sir.”

Jefferson rose to speak, and in a cool, dismissive manner said the proposals merely changed the mode of taxation and ignored the burdensome Acts, and should not be taken seriously. And after other burgesses had spoken for or against the proposals, Hugh rose and was warily recognized by Peyton Randolph.

Hugh nodded his thanks to the Speaker. “In the last war,” he began, “our enemies were the French and Indians, and the lands beyond the mountains were their itinerate domain where we ventured at our own peril. Our claims to property there were therefore unenforceable and moot. We have returned to that circumstance, only now our enemy is Britain, and the lands beyond the transmontane are Catholic French and Indian again, where we would venture at our own peril! And, to add salt to that wound inflicted by new British acts, our claims are not only unenforceable, but illegal, as well! Not even the most duplicitous Roman tyrant could have authored such an insidious, malicious irony!”

Some of the older burgesses grumbled audibly in protest at this last remark, but Hugh did not deign to acknowledge them. He continued, “This ‘Olive Branch’ is but a jester’s scepter, all frills and bright ribbons and noisy bells. No man worthy of the name would accept it as a gift of friendship. Do not forget that, in olden times, the court jester alone could mock a sovereign with impunity. Are we kings who would tolerate such mockery, or men? This proposal that we bleed ourselves at Parliament’s behest mocks our intelligence and seeks to suborn our quest for liberty! It seeks to bribe any colony by abolishing taxes on some imported goods of the Crown’s choice into that amenable colony, in exchange for taxing itself for the ‘common defense.’ May I ask: Defense, against whom? And if the revenue derived by such self-impoverishment is also intended to support each colonial
government, may I then ask:
Whose
government? One elected by the people, or a supine one slyly arranged to the Crown’s satisfaction?”

After a pause to catch his breath, he went on. “But, there is a more wicked motive behind this ‘Olive Branch,’ and that is to breach the unity that now exists in all the colonies, by luring each one away in such an arrangement. This is a common practice among ministers and parties in Parliament — I witnessed it with my own eyes, when I sat briefly in the Commons — and that practice is now proposed here! In sum, Lord North’s proposals are contemptible and too transparent in their design to be devious! There is nothing to debate concerning them. I will state this moment, that I will not vote for approval.”

One burgess across the floor rose and asked, “When you refer to election of a government by the
people
, sir, are you proposing
democracy
? It seems that anyone half familiar with the histories of Rome and Greece would apprehend the dangers of that species of polity.”

“I advocate no such thing, sir,” replied Hugh, “and I thank you for not slandering my character by imputing that I do. What we should aspire to, sir, is a republic in which our liberties are untouchable by government. We shall need to be explicit in that matter, in future, so that we leave judges and politicians no room for thoughtless or insouciant interpretation. A
democracy
, you say? Sir, in a democracy, policy trumps every principle but one, every time.”

“Which principle?” asked the burgess who queried Hugh.

“The public good, sir. The histories you cite prove that it is a whore that will sell itself to the greatest majority for the highest price.”

The burgesses gasped in shock at the introduction of that indiscreet term. Hugh sat down. He had nothing more to say on the subject.

Later in the day, the House voted to reject the Olive Branch propositions as an intrusion on colonial financial self-governance, as a willful neglect to repeal the disputed Acts, and as a neglect to promise free trade with the world, freed from the prison of the Navigation Acts. And it was not lost on most of the burgesses, either, that while the Crown wished the colonies to provide for the “mutual defense” by self-taxation, it was assembling an armada and army to make war on those very colonies. Hugh voted for rejection, Cullis against it.

Some days later, as a sop to Governor Dunmore, the Assembly approved of a measure to pay the invoices of the Governor’s war in the west last fall and winter, reasoning that his actions were nominally legitimate,
because the territories and lands arbitrarily annexed to Canada were Virginia’s. These bills included the pay of General Lewis’s militia, some of whom were now guarding the Palace to prevent looting. It also ratified the treaty with the Indians arranged by the Governor’s crony, John Connolly. To meet those obligations, the Assembly subsequently approved a measure to impose a special tax on newly imported slaves.

To Hugh, these measures confessed a reluctance to admit that Crown authority was at an end. He abstained from voting on them. He sat patiently on the bench, at times alone, as the days rolled by, and watched the tiresome and predictable charade. Often he did not hear what business was being conducted, for his sight was fixed on a point over the Speaker’s chair, and he was lost in a reverie of that chamber’s glorious moments, moments in which he had played a part.

One afternoon, during a brief recess, and after the legislation had been submitted to a committee to prepare for presentation to the Governor, Hugh stopped in the breezeway outside that connected the House with the General Court and Council chambers. Other members had come out to smoke and talk. Hugh looked up at the white marble statue of Baron de Botetourt that stood in the middle of the breezeway, and debated with himself whether or not to bother returning to the chamber. He remembered voting against the resolution to honor the late governor with the statue.

A voice behind him said, “Yes, the riddle is solved. It has claws and teeth.”

Hugh turned to face Thomas Jefferson, and instantly recalled the exchange they had had over a year ago in this same spot. He smiled in acknowledgement. “Yes, it is a lion in ill-conceived disguise.” He nodded to the statue. “Look at it, Mr. Jefferson. See the rich robes, and the regal deportment, and the benign visage. That is the stance of tyranny. It is a gorgeous, seductive conception, is it not? Little wonder that so many men become enamored of it. That is what must happen first, for tyranny to last any length of time. The tyrant must conquer their minds, but the minds must first be willing
subjects
.”

Jefferson cocked his head in appreciation of the idea. “And, if they are not willing?” he asked.

“Then, if they still be men, there will be a war,” answered Hugh.

“This has been proven true, has it not?” said Jefferson. After a moment, he tucked his leather portfolio beneath an arm and clasped one of Hugh’s hands in both of his and shook it. “Mr. Kenrick, I must depart
immediately for the Congress, and cannot dally here. Perhaps you would come to Philadelphia, and we could continue this discussion?”

Hugh said, “Perhaps I might. I have so little company left here.”

Jefferson released Hugh’s hand, and touched his hat. “I most earnestly hope you will. Well, goodbye, sir.”

Hugh touched his hat in answer. “Godspeed, Mr. Jefferson.”

Hugh turned his back on the statue of Botetourt to watch the Virginian rush through the piazza, turn a corner, and disappear. Then a clerk came out to ring a hand bell, signaling the end of the recess. Hugh turned and followed the other burgesses back inside. He was determined to see this session through to the end.

The legislation was taken by a delegation of the House to Yorktown and Governor Dunmore. The burgesses were told by his secretary, Captain Foy, who had also moved onboard the
Fowey
with his wife, not to wait; His Excellency must be given time to read the particulars and give it some thought. The chastened delegation journeyed back to Williamsburg.

Another day passed, and another messenger arrived with a note from the Governor. In the note he announced his veto of the legislation, claiming that only Parliament had the authority to create an import tax, and that the General Assembly had overreached its authority. He also withheld consent from the treaty ratification, claiming that action was an executive power, not a legislative one.

No one thought to ask whether or not His Excellency had sought the advice of his Council; for all practical purposes, the Council had been dissolved. And no one was surprised by the veto.

On June 24, Peyton Randolph ordered the clerk of the House to gavel the end of the session, and the burgesses filed out of the chamber into a hot, humid afternoon. Hugh Kenrick returned to his room at the Raleigh Tavern, and prepared to ride back to Caxton and Meum Hall.

* * *

On June 29, John Murray, Earl of Dunmore, royal governor presumptive of Virginia, oversaw the transfer of Lady Charlotte and their seven children, together with servants and other minor officials, from the
Fowey
to the naval schooner
Magdalen
. He was sending his family home to England. In the back of his mind was the intention to send for it again, once he had regained the Palace and the authority and power it represented. At the
moment, he was not quite sure how he could accomplish that. But his family was a distraction and a burden, preventing him from thinking clearly about his next steps. So, it had to go.

Among those who climbed the gangboard of the
Magdalen
with Lady Charlotte was her new confidant and chaplain, Reverend Thomas Gwatkin, the former principal of the grammar school at the College of William and Mary. He had declined to deliver a sermon at Bruton Church in observance of the day of fasting and prayer the previous June, an event approved by the burgesses in support of the town of Boston over the port’s closing, and for which the Governor had dissolved the Assembly.

When all was ready, both warships set sail and proceeded down the York River. The
Magdalen
was bound for New York, where Lady Charlotte and her company would take another vessel to England. The
Fowey
accompanied the schooner as far as the Capes, then turned its bowsprit and jibs in the direction of Norfolk, a friendlier town than was Williamsburg.

G
eneral Thomas Gage, Governor of Massachusetts, after the Boston Tea Party in 1773 opined in a report to George the Third that the colonists “will be lions while we are lambs, but if we take the resolute part, they will undoubtedly prove very meek.” This was merely tactful assurance to his sovereign, whom he knew would not wish to hear otherwise; it was not good form to abuse the royal mind with sour news. Privately, the commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s forces in North America doubted that those forces, directed by him or by any other general, could contain the Americans were they to rise up enmasse against the Crown. Gage’s lukewarm resolve on that point in his official reports, however, merely encouraged the king and the ministry to chastise the colonies and bring them back into the empire’s fold.

On June 12, he imposed martial law on Massachusetts, proclaimed as rebels and traitors anyone aiding Americans arming against Crown authority, and offered pardons to all who swore allegiance to the Crown, all but Samuel Adams and John Hancock, the new president of the Continental Congress.

At Bunker Hill, on June 17, 1775, Gage was to be proven right in his estimate of colonial character and the scale of colonial opposition to submitting to complete imperial domination. The British lion was to be badly mauled by the colonial panther.

The Queen Anne Volunteer Company arrived in Cambridge late afternoon on June 15, tired and ragged from its grueling two-week march up through Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York and Connecticut, but ready to fight. Captain Jack Frake sought out a commander-in-chief of the American forces they encountered. He was directed by a local militia captain to report to General Artemas Ward’s headquarters, a farmhouse surrounded by the camps of Massachusetts militiamen. He marched the Company the short distance to that house, then told it to rest easy while he reported its presence and inquired about an assignment.

As Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Hampshire militiamen gathered around the Virginians in curiosity, Jack went inside the house. Here he found several “Yankee” commanding officers, including Ward, of Massachusetts
and nominal commander of the gathering colonial army; Brigadier Israel Putnam of Connecticut; Colonel William Prescott of a wealthy Massachusetts merchant family; and Colonel John Stark, of New Hampshire.

Dr. Joseph Warren of the provincial congress sat in a corner, puffing on a pipe. It was he who two months before had sent Paul Revere and other riders to alert the country west of Cambridge of the British expedition to seize and destroy colonial military stores in Concord. He was awaiting appointment as major general and a command from Ward.

Jack Frake introduced himself, and the other men reciprocated.

“Any battle experience, Captain?” asked Ward, who sat at a table made of rough planks resting on wooden horses. The table was smothered with papers, two lanterns, and tankards of ale. Ward noted the faint scar to the side of the Virginian’s forehead, and did not think it the result of a mishap with a plough or cooperage tool. Like Putnam and Stark, he was a veteran of the French and Indian War, and had seen that kind of healed wound before.

“I was with General Braddock at Monongahela, sir. In the thick of it. So, I believe, was General Gage. And Colonel Washington.”

“Gage, too? I didn’t know that,” said Ward. “Well, he’s been recalled, apparently. Lexington and Concord were his Monongahela. Three generals have come to replace him. They came on the
Cerberus
late last month with reinforcements. William Howe, John Burgoyne, and Henry Clinton, major generals all. Howe’s in command here now. We expect that Clinton and Burgoyne will have their own commands. Then we have Admiral Graves with his warships down there, ready as vultures, with over a hundred guns. We have only six.”

“We don’t know for sure that Gage has been recalled,” ventured Putnam. “He is still governor and he could be planning the mischief they’re up to. He outranks the other three, anyway.”

Ward shrugged. “What about your men?” he asked Jack Frake. “How many in your company?”

“Fifty, sir. Half of them saw action in the last war, as well.”

“Good. Then they won’t bolt when the British jump on them?”

“I don’t think they will, sir.”

“Why not, sir? It’s not French or Indians they’ll be asked to fire upon, but their own kith and kin. Their countrymen.”

Jack Frake frowned. “They don’t think they are, sir. Not any more.”

Ward smiled, pleased with the answer. Then his brow furled, and he asked with undisguised suspicion, “How did you know to come up here, Captain Frake?”

“Newspaper accounts of the action on the Concord road, sir. And, some of my men and I are Sons of Liberty. We received information from correspondents. If anything precipitous was going to happen, it would happen here.” He paused. “It was our Sons of Liberty who prevented the stamps from being introduced into Virginia, together with the citizens of our county.”

“
Precipitous
?” scoffed Stark. “What a vocabulary! You must be book-learned!”

Prescott asked, “Have you brought your own powder and lead, Captain? We are a bit short of them. And of entrenching tools, too.”

“Yes, sir. About fifty rounds per man. But we brought no tools.”

Stark, glancing through a window at the new militia waiting outside the house, stared disapprovingly at the ensign that rippled in the warm wind. He narrowed his eyes, though, to read the motto in the canton, “Live Free, or Die.” He pronounced the words once, then addressed the stranger. “Ghastly colors you carry, sir, but the motto is interesting. What inspired it?” Ward, Putnam, Warren all rose and went to the door, which they opened to see the newcomers themselves and the odd ensign.

“Friends of mine who died by the Crown’s hand many years ago,” answered Jack Frake.

“Soldiers?” asked Dr. Warren.

“Smugglers, sir. In Cornwall. They were hanged. I was transported.”

“So! You’re a damned criminal!” accused Stark.

“Aren’t we all now, gentlemen?” replied Jack Frake, although it was not a question.

The American officers all laughed at this remark, because it was true.

Stark’s compressed lips bent in a reluctant smile. “You Virginians have an answer for everything! You must be a damned lawyer!”

“No, sir. A planter. I own a thousand acres on the York River.”

Stark grunted once and regarded the stranger with new interest. Then he pointed out the window to the ensign now resting over Jock Fraser’s shoulder. “You added some stripes to that thing, sir. I guess they represent the colonies, but I count thirteen. Do you include Quebec?”

“No, sir. Georgia.” Jack Frake added, “We know that is an East India jack. It was found in Louisbourg in a French billet, in the war before last.”
He saw the puzzled looks on the officers’ faces. “The tea flag, sir,” he said.

“The
tea
flag?” asked Warren.

“It was East India tea that you fellows tossed into the harbor here, was it not?” asked Jack Frake.

“So it was,” remarked Putnam. “Never saw the likes of your ensign in any port here. Well, it is as gaudy as the Union Jack. It might be adapted somehow. The British have their crosses, and we’ll have our stripes. Then we’ll know who’s who when it comes to blows.”

“Georgia!” scoffed Stark. “Those people down there are too slow to see the times. Must be the heat softening their noodles. They haven’t sent anyone to a Congress yet. Quebec is more likely to join us. And if they don’t, well…they might be persuaded to.”

Ward glanced at Stark and shook his head once. Jack Frake, observing the silent communication, could only sense its significance, and remained ignorant of tentative plans to invade Canada and remove the northern threat to the colonies, should they pursue a course of independence.

Jack Frake said, “Georgia might join the Congress, in time.”

Stark said with disgust, “Well, they’d better make up their damned minds!”

Ward sat down again and volunteered, “They just might, and soon. The other day I received a letter from a committee man in North Carolina, in your parts, Captain Frake. It seems that a convention in Mecklenburg there has already declared that colony’s independence. How stands Virginia?”

“Governor Dunmore’s likely actions will provoke the same public declaration there, as well.”

“Likely actions?”

“He is a Stuart and a lord, sir, and determined to rule. We are quite tired of him, and he of us.”

Ward studied Jack Frake for a moment, then asked him, “Why do you want to be
here
, Captain Frake? I’d have thought you would want to stay in Virginia to give Dunmore the same business we plan to give General Gage.” He chuckled. “It isn’t as though there won’t be plenty of fighting to go around, once it begins here. There will be that up and down the seaboard.”

Jack Frake paused before he answered. Then he smiled. “We Virginians began the business with the Stamp Act Resolves, sir. That was an enfilade of paper. It would only be justice if we contributed an enfilade of lead, as well, since the Crown’s policies and intentions were proof against the paper.” He smiled again. “It is a matter of finishing what we started. That
is why we are here.”

Stark shook his head and bellowed, “The hubris of you Virginians! You even rule the damned Congress! There’s that Randolph fellow, and Henry, and Washington. And that Jefferson puppy with his scrivenings. Talkers and lawyers and scriveners! You all sound alike!”

Jack Frake was unsure of the intent of Stark’s protestations. He answered lightly, “Well, Colonel Stark, if you don’t take caution, the capital of these united colonies might someday be found in Williamsburg, with Mr. John Adams or Mr. Hancock as president.”

Stark merely barked with incredulity while the other officers laughed.

Jack Frake added the remark, addressing the company, “Sirs, revolutions are not merely a matter of armies and muskets and flouting authority. Lasting revolutions are a matter of minds and ideas. It has always been my premise that this is the kind of revolution we have been making for ten years.”

To this, neither Stark nor any of the other men had an answer. That was true, as well.

Ward said, “Well, Captain Frake, why don’t you find your men somewhere to encamp and rest up? And please join me at supper tonight, and bring your second in command. We might have work for you on the peninsula overlooking Boston. You see, we plan to lay a stronger siege to it. Gage knows this, and will try to stop us. He plans to occupy Dorchester Heights that overlooks the harbor, and we hope to beat him to it, as well. Today, tomorrow, next week, we’ll see. I’ll show you the maps at supper.” He rose and extended his hand over the table. He grinned. “Massachusetts welcomes you, Captain.”

Jack Frake stepped forward and shook it. “Thank you, sir.”

Prescott said, “We will be digging entrenchments and building a redoubt somewhere on the Charlestown peninsula, Captain. You and your men might find yourselves helping out with that.”

“We are mostly farmers, sir, and have much experience in digging ditches, as well.”

Stark chuckled. “You’re the first Virginians we’ve seen who don’t look like they’re dressed for court or out to squire the ladies.”

Ward added as an afterthought, “We’re only militia here, Captain Frake, so there’s no saluting or any of those other formalities. Not yet, not until Congress gets around to creating a true army. However, orders will be
obeyed
.”

“Of course, sir.” Jack Frake inclined his head to the other men, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Colonel Stark grinned for the first time, and nodded to the door. “I like that man,” he said to no one in particular. “He talks back, the saucy Virginian!”

The next day members of the Queen Anne Volunteer Company familiarized themselves with their surroundings and with their comrades-in-arms to be. Jack Frake and Jock Fraser sat on the porch of Ward’s headquarters and studied a map that the commander had loaned them. Then on foot, with John Proudlocks joining them, they reconnoitered the land overlooking the Charlestown peninsula.

To the east, they saw a small collection of buildings that was Charlestown on the southeast tip. From it led several dirt roads, merging less than a mile in the west into one that crossed the neck that divided the Mystic River from the Charles River, which widened at its mouth to form what looked like a small bay. Farther east, a little beyond Charlestown across a small body of water that was the outlet from the Charles River, sat Boston on its own peninsula, connected to the mainland by a narrow neck, as well. The only vessels they saw at sail in the water were British warships; the port remained closed.

On the map, they identified Breed’s Hill northwest of Charlestown in the middle of the peninsula, the larger Bunker Hill to the northwest of it near the Mystic, and Moulton’s Hill, also on the Mystic on the northeastern tip. In between Charlestown and the neck they noted fenced pastureland, clay pits and brick kilns, what looked like a swamp, high grass and a few trees. The entire peninsula looked deserted. Jack Frake used the spyglass that Hugh had given him years ago to survey the place, which was only half a mile at its widest. He shared the glass with Fraser and Proudlocks. The only moving things they saw were a few stray livestock, cattle and pigs, searching for forage. Satisfied that they had a grasp of the potential battlefield, the men returned to their camp.

There were a few other flags or ensigns that marked the campsites of other companies and regiments. Some were green, blue or yellow lengths of cloth hastily knocked together and fastened to pikes, and featured rattlesnakes, pine trees, and other devices. Most of the other men were garbed as the Virginians, in frock coats, waistcoats, breeches, and brimmed and fur hats, much of it homespun and not imported from Britain. A few officers wore uniforms and gorgets from the last war.

Jack Frake moved around the various encampments and acquainted himself with the northern men. Like his own from Virginia, they were a mixture of shopkeepers, farmers, tailors, mechanics, coopers, wheelwrights, carpenters, teachers and men from many other trades. There were even some students from nearby Harvard. They carried a variety of firearms: muskets, fowling pieces, and some rifles. He noticed a few black men among the Yankees, also bearing arms. These were northern freedmen; they did not behave like servants or slaves, but mingled freely and easily with their white compatriots.