In Chapter 30, James is going about his regular duties. In Chapter 31, I try and decide if James is ready for a love live. Previous chapters are on the blog. To buy the book on line or in paperback, check online booksellers.
Chapter 30
Boston, Massachusetts
November 1774
DUSK WAS SLIPPING into night as James Holloway and Thomas Miller patrolled the area between the Common and the sea. The harbor wind played games with the leaves, picking them up, whirling them in a circle before dropping them, only to repeat the performance. The air smelled salty.
The shops were closing. Oil lamps inside the shops shared their light with the outside world. Walking on the sidewalks, whether wood, bricks or dirt, was a challenge when icy. Even when they weren’t slippery, it was easy to trip on a protrusion.
Only a few people, mainly women buying the last bits for dinner, were about. They wrapped their shawls tightly against the cold as they made their purchases and rushed home.
All privates were required to patrol the city two days or nights a month, something that James could have escaped because of his duties with the General. “If I don’t do my required patrolling duties, it may cause resentment among others in the regiment.”
“Excellent spirit, Holloway,” the General had said. “Why don’t you make it a point to do mainly night duty when I have less need of you. Who knows what you might spot?”
“Night duty is less popular,” James said. “But I like it.”
“Even better.” The General had dismissed James, who left the room smiling. His duties with the General pleased him more and more. The man was fair. He explained what he wanted clearly. The signs posted around the city depicting Gage as the devil didn’t understand the character of the man.
Sometimes, a soldier would pay someone to take his tour. Because James let the other soldiers know he was almost always ready to take an extra patrol, he more than tripled his monthly income. There was one caveat. Everyone whom he replaced knew that at the last minute the General could override James’s availability. If any animosity existed, it was directed to the General, not James.
Money wasn’t the only reason he did extra patrols. He liked walking around Boston checking houses and shops. When he had a chance, he liked talking to people who were willing to speak with a lobsterback.
There was a difference, however. In Ely, people were friendly, happy to buy his bread. Here, he was considered a representative of an adversarial government. The different restrictions on trade, the closing of the harbor, the taxes on stamps, tea and other things made the locals angry. The increased presence of the army only increased that anger. Many saw James as a representative of that government, not an individual.
Two nights ago, a man in the Green Dragon where Thomas and James had stopped for a beer, complained to James who’d replied, “You know, the King never consults me on any of this. In fact, he never speaks to me at all.”
It brought a laugh. Robert, a local shoemaker and regular at the Green Dragon, said, “Leave him alone. Most of the lobsterbacks are just ordinary men like us.”
A discussion on why the men had joined the army followed. At least at the Green Dragon with the regulars, the tension had been lowered. They had some things in common such as the enjoyment of a good beer after a working day. They were all apt to choke on the smoke from the fireplace that failed to draw the way it should.
James did notice on the few nights when he did go to the tavern the same certain locals entered and instead of staying downstairs, mounted the staircase to the right of the bar. He seldom saw them leave, although periodically one returned for beers for all.
He didn’t know their names. He mentioned it to Corporal Tilley, who didn’t think it was important, but James thought he should still pay attention. He wrote down the nights the men were there and their descriptions. It wasn’t complete because he didn’t go to the Green Dragon all that often.
He thought if Tilley wasn’t interested, probably the General would be, even if the General had his own spy network. He was right.
Thomas and James were less than thirty minutes into their tour. As they passed the lighted gas lamp on the top of Beacon Hill, a boy, probably no more than eight or nine, threw a rock. It hit James’ left shoulder blade. He turned to see the child run down Treamount Street and into an alley.
Thomas started to run after him.
“Let him go.” James ran after Thomas and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Why should I?”
“Beating up a child will win us no friends.”
“They don’t want to be friends. They hate us. See how they act. Women sweeping their walks go inside and slam their doors when they see us. Shopkeepers turn their back pretending to adjusting wares already arranged. Prices are higher for us than locals.”
James was tempted to say, “I want them to realize we aren’t all that bad.” He knew, that although he considered Thomas a good friend, Thomas was not a person of strong feelings. He believed whatever he heard last.
Thomas reached up and removed James’ hand. He turned to look Thomas in the eye. They were exactly the same height. “It isn’t us as individuals. It’s the King. And taxes. And the damned rabble-rousers that keep telling them we’re the cause of their problems.”
“So? We should let a ruffian attack us?” Thomas asked.
“He’s a child. I would rather try to make the locals not think of us as enemies.”
“It seems useless to me.”
“I’m making progress with some.”
“Who?” Thomas’ tone still sounded upset.
“Henry Samson,” James said.
“The fishmonger? That’s a joke. He’s a Son of Liberty; I’m sure of it.”
“And there’s Edward Clark.” James didn’t want to point out that the cloth merchant was heard bitching in the Green Dragon that since the new tariffs were issued, he could neither afford the wools from England nor the silks from France. Like many locals, he bitched until they realized lobsterbacks were nearby. Then they shut up.
“Clark and Samson are both on the watch list,” James said. “We can watch them better if we’re friendly.”
Thomas snorted.
They approached the building where the Boston Gazette and Country Journal was printed. “I want a copy of the Gazette. They’re still open.” James tried to buy every weekly edition of the paper.
Most of the soldiers in his regiment didn’t care about what was going on in the city. Many couldn’t read or could barely read. They only did whatever drills the officers wanted, they cleaned what they were told to clean, marched when ordered to, went on patrol when given no choice. At night they might play cards or go to an inn for food and drink.
James always bought the paper directly from Benjamin Edes, the editor, in the tiny printshop. He had asked Edes to tell him about the paper.
Although Edes claimed no love of the British army in “my city,” he was willing to brag about the paper to a British soldier. “We’ve been publishing since the early 1700s.” His pride extended to his modern printing press taking up twenty-five percent of the print shop. Even though James had never been in the shop when the paper was being printed, the smell of ink and hot metal lingered.
One of the lieutenants had seen James reading the paper in the barracks where they were now garrisoned none too soon as the cold moved in. The tents had been taken down and stored in the basement of the warehouse for use when needed.
Troublemakers,” the lieutenant said. “Adams and Revere write for that damned paper. Never mind all the anti-royal editorials. Why do you bother with this garbage, Private?”
“I like to know what they’re thinking, Sir.”
“Hmm.” The lieutenant walked away.
The first time James tried to buy a paper, Edes had refused to sell him one.
“I can go down the street and get one,” James had said. “Better you get the full price.”
“A smart one, you are,” Edes had said.
“Not so much, but I do like to read the news.”
The two men had a ritual now where Edes would start, “So what do you want now, Lobsterback?”
“What do you think? I read about …” James would mention a story from the previous edition, “… and I wondered if there was anything new.”
They had reached the stage where they would nod at one another in the Green Dragon. Two nights ago when there had been no free seats except at the table where Edes was sitting, James walked over and sat.
All talk had stopped.
“Go ahead. Continue to plan how you’re going to attack us. I need to take some information back to my commander.” He’d smiled. The men at the table exchanged looks than laughed.
It had begun to snow by the time Thomas and James entered the print shop. There was another local with his back to the door, talking to Edes. James thought he was one of the men he’d seen going upstairs at the Green Dragon. He wasn’t sure.
“The powder will be easy to move. It’s the …”
Edes, who had seen the two lobsterbacks enter, frowned. “Well, the powdery snow is a lot easy to shovel than the heavy stuff.” He stepped to one side of the other man. “Can I help you, Lobsterback?”
The
other man turned and brushed past Thomas and James, keeping his head down
without saying goodbye. “Just
a paper as usual.”
Chapter 31
Geneva, Switzerland
WE ARE IN quarantine in Geneva for ten days after driving up from Argelès because our area of southern France has too many people with Covid. Annoying, as we are vaccinated and have passed a test right before changing countries. At the same time, it means more concentrated writing time for my husband and me.
As for my dog, I’m sure he wishes we go to his favorite places such as the ruin of a 13th century château and the fields behind the elementary school. He’ll have to be content with the garden.
I’m still undecided about creating a serious love interest for James. He’s a young widower who loved his wife and who had been a friend to him too. His grief is waning but has not disappeared to a point he might want to replace her.
He doesn’t need a wife to help with his work. He doesn’t need someone to keep his house or raise his children. On private pay, keeping a wife might be difficult even if she were the type of wife that would maintain a stall outside the barracks and sell things that the soldiers would buy. When I read about these stands’ , I thought that it was like an early PX.
If I were to continue James’s life four or five years in the future, after he left the army and established himself in some kind of business, which he is planning or least thinking about, it would be different. I am not planning to do that.
How much chance British soldiers would have with local women was probably limited. Not surprising because many considered the troops’ presence an occupation.
Boston had a brothel that serviced locals, soldiers, and before the harbor was blocked, sailors from all over the world. I didn’t want James to frequent them, because it didn’t fit his character. Because of his seriousness and his wanting to create a life after the army, I wanted him to save money rather than blow it on whores.
I want James to flirt with the widow Mollie Clark, the Benjamin Edes’ daughter and Boston Gazette publisher, a paper totally on the side of the colonists. I can delve into some real issues and events that way. Mollie’s father would not like his daughter, who worked with him, to be involved with a lobsterback even if he enjoyed bantering with James.
I’m thinking of having Sally Brewster, the daughter of the leather bucket maker and an artist, as a possible love interest. The idea of leather buckets adds color and a peek into colonial life.
Despite the concept of puritans, hormones among the young were no different than the young today. One article I read claimed that in about fifty percent of the marriages, the bride was already pregnant. I rejected the idea of James getting Mollie or Sally pregnant. Too romancey.
James and I are becoming better and better friends. He has above-average intelligence and is charismatic. I wonder how he would do in 21st century life. People respond well to him, older women, young women, even men. General Gage recognized his intelligence as well as his reading and writing abilities and takes advantage of them.
Having James dream more and more is another way to show his feelings.
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