In these chapters The dreaded Flux fells James and much of his regiment. He finds himself being cared for by the general's wife. We are in the process of moving, but I'll try and keep posting chapters every couple of days. Back chapters are available on this blog and the book can be purchased in an e-book format or paperback from many on-line book sources.
Chapter 45
Boston, Massachusetts
December 1774
JAMES HOLLOWAY WOKE before Corporal Tilley roused the troops. It was still dark. The room sounded quieter than normal. There was less snoring. He felt cold.
His duties today involved spending the day at General Gage’s house, although the General was in Salem. There were times he felt like a glorified family servant or bodyguard for the General’s wife, sons and baby daughter.
The only light in the room was from the setting moon. As he got up to pee, he noticed many beds were still empty.
Being the General’s orderly had many advantages. Sometimes he found himself torn between his regular duties, his responsibilities to the General and his own life. He suspected that he could get out of regular drills by saying he was working for the General and go off and do whatever he wanted. No one would know. Knowing he could do something and doing it were two different things.
The smell in the latrine was worse than he had ever smelled. He headed back to his room. Corporal Tilley had not awakened the soldiers. When James peeked into Tilley’s sleeping alcove slightly removed from the privates, the bed was made. Tilley was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is everyone?” James asked Adam, who was just stretching himself awake. Adam, originally from Brighton, occupied the cot next to James’s. Adam had come from a baking family too, and they often chatted about the similarity in their lives.
“They’re sick. Had major shits,” Adam said. “Some were bleeding. Others vomiting.”
“Where’s Corporal Tilley?”
“In the infirmary. He’s sick too.”
James dressed and went over to the half-filled mess hall. Were the missing men too sick to eat or were they on maneuvers? He hadn’t heard about another deserter, but he often missed news about the company because he was with the General. He and Thomas joked about James leading a double life.
He stood in the shortened line waiting for his porridge. As he got closer it looked so unappealing that he headed back to the barracks to gather his things for the day.
*****
James headed to the Gage household on Marlborough Street. It was still before dawn. Days grew short as they approached the winter solstice. James found the amount of darkness depressing, not that December in Ely had been any better.
Not only could he see his breath when he inhaled, the cold air hurt his lungs. He pulled his collar up to protect his neck from the wind. Once again, he wondered why the lining was green when the rest of the uniform was red and white.
He had to be careful where he stepped. Yesterday the snow thawed, but overnight the temperature had dropped, freezing puddles on the sidewalks and making each step a potential walking hazard.
The clip-clop of hooves broke the silence as a firewood-filled cart passed him. He saw no one else.
There was only a slight tinge of pink in the sky behind the houses. It seemed that even the sun was slow to start the day.
The Gage’s maid, Beth, answered his knock. “The family is eating breakfast.” James had never really noticed her closely before, other than that her blue eyes were a bit like Mollie Clark’s. What made him think of her now? Beth’s accent was local. He guessed if she were in her twenties, it hadn’t been long.
“I’ll wait in the study.”
“Mrs. Gage said you’re to join them.” She barred the door to the study.
“Thank you.” He had become quite familiar with the house’s ground floor. It was the most luxurious house he’d ever been in with its thick carpets and beautifully crafted oak furniture. On the walls hung paintings of people he’d never heard of, maybe the General’s and Mrs. Gage’s family or that of previous governors. He didn’t want to know enough to undergo the embarrassment of asking.
The dining room’s fireplace threw heat, which did little to distill James’ chill. This room had a parquet floor polished to almost a mirror finish. Through the two windows, James noticed that the sun had completed its arrival.
Mrs. Gage and her two sons, Henry and John, sat at the table, their half-empty dishes in front of them. Baby Charlotte was in a highchair next to her mother. James knew the boys were fourteen and eight, well-mannered lads, but not above a bit of mischief.
Mrs. Gage rose, took a cup and saucer from the sideboard and poured tea from the blue pitcher into a china cup. “Milk? Honey?”
“Plain, thank you.”
The Gage’s dog, Bones, stuck his nose from under the table, moving the tablecloth. He had been trained not to bark or beg. He looked like he might be part Cavalier King Charles and many parts question marks. Mrs. Gage had found him on the street and although she had searched, the owners had never been found. The General was as fond of the dog as the rest of the family and would have liked to take the pooch with him wherever he went. Mrs. Gage and the children overruled him.
James found it amusing that Mrs. Gage had as much power in the home as the General did in the outside world.
“Sit. Sit. Breakfast, James?” Mrs. Gage asked. “There’s still pancakes.”
Normally, James would have jumped at the chance, but this morning the idea turned his stomach.
“Boys, you may be excused. Your tutor is waiting. And Henry, I do not, I repeat do not want to hear about any more of your shenanigans.” Mrs. Gage’s attempt to look stern did not succeed. Her smile belied her words.
Their chairs scraped on the floor, and the children left the room.
“Close the door to keep the heat in.” Then she called, “I love you. Ask Nurse to come down for Charlotte, please.”
Before James could refuse, Mrs. Gage served him three pancakes and a slice of ham.
James stared at the food. He cut a small piece of the pancake and nibbled.
“Today, I need to buy a newspaper. I want to visit my friend Annabelle Carver. The General worries about me being on the street with all the unrest.”
“I understand.” He did understand. More and more antipathy to what the locals were now calling occupation was giving way to a nasty trend of rocks being thrown at soldiers. It had gotten worse during the last two months. The colonists’ representatives refused to meet with the Governor’s Council.
James did not understand all the moves and countermoves of the colonists and the government. He did know that Gage hated the words democracy and representation. The only authority should be the Crown and parliament of which he was the representative under his title Governor. When the General first arrived in late spring, he was welcomed as the replacement for the previous governor. That warmth had evaporated as it became apparent he would enforce unpopular taxes.
The nurse arrived and scooped Charlotte from her highchair. The baby was a pretty little thing. James had never seen her cry, although he was sure she did.
Mrs. Gage kissed her daughter on the forehead, missing her sticky, honey-covered mouth. “While I get ready, can you take Bones for a walk, please?” She left the room. “Finish your breakfast first.” Mrs. Gage said please as if he had a choice. The General never said please. Even his tone lacked please.
James tried to get down a few more mouthfuls. Washing the ham and pancake down with tea helped some but he knew that he’d never be able to finish the meal without vomiting. Throwing up on the linen tablecloth would not be good.
Bones came up to James, put his paw on his knee. His sorrowful look claimed he hadn’t been fed for weeks, although his weight betrayed the last thing he needed was food. James didn’t care.
The dog made the breakfast disappear within seconds.
The dog’s leash was to the left of the door. There were four steps to the street. James had hoped that the fresh air would clear his spinning head.
*****
James opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure where he was. It certainly wasn’t the barracks. The walls were painted a soft blue. He could see snow falling sideways through white muslin curtains hung at the two windows opposite the bed. A stand with a white pitcher and bowl was on a chest of drawers in the corner.
He tried to sit up. Dizziness forced him back onto the pillow. Then he realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform but a nightshirt. And a diaper.
A knock at the door was followed by a soldier entering. Or at least James thought he might be a soldier. He wasn’t wearing a uniform. “You’re awake. I’ll call Mrs. Gage.”
Within minutes, Mrs. Gage entered the room carrying a bowl with steam coming from it. “Good. You’re awake.”
James wasn’t sure what happened. He was almost afraid to ask.
“Dear boy, when you took Bones out, you fainted on the stairs. You knocked yourself out. You have the same sickness that much of your regiment had and has still.
“What day is it?”
“Friday. Between hitting your head and fever you’ve been unconscious two days.”
“My clothes?”
“We had to have them cleaned. I’m afraid you soiled yourself. I know a lady shouldn’t say that.”
“How … I mean … who …?”
I had a private come from your barracks to handle your bodily needs. He’s slept outside your door in case you needed anything. Dr. Church was here too, although this isn’t his type of medicine. I didn’t know who else to call.”
James knew he should say thank you, but he could no longer keep his eyes open.
Chapter 46
Boston, Massachusetts
December 1774
MRS. GAGE SAT next to James’ bed. A tray with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea rested on her lap. Steam rose from both of them.
James guessed it was early morning because of the light through the windows. He couldn’t be sure because a veil of snow drifted by the panes.
Between the two quilts covering his bed and the fireplace fire, he was warm, almost hot. The wood must have had some moisture pockets considering the crackles, the only other sound in the room besides the scraping of a spoon in the bowl.
Mrs. Gage spooned soup into his mouth. “Chicken broth. A little rice. It’ll help build your strength.”
He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. The pancakes?
How long had he been in bed?
How did the General feel about his orderly occupying one of his bedrooms?
Where was the General?
Asking would take more energy than he had.
“Finish at least half of the soup, then Robert will come to give you a sponge bath. We need you to sit in the chair so he can change your bedding.” Another spoonful dribbled into James’ mouth.
A man knocked.
“Come in,” Mrs. Gage said.
James recognized Robert from the 10th Regiment. He was dressed in civilian clothes. The man carried a bowl of water. A towel was thrown over his shoulder.
Mrs. Gage handed him the tray and stood. “You can finish feeding him. I need to make sure the cook boils the ham for tonight’s meal. It’s Christmas Eve, you know, James.”
Christmas. He’d heard that the colonists had mixed feelings about Christmas. Because he came from Ely, Oliver Cromwell’s home, he grew up believing that Christmas had been banned by him. The idea didn’t seem that strange. He had heard that many of the most devout Bostonian Puritans refused to celebrate Christmas as a pagan holiday.
His father had shared family lore about how their ancestors flipped religions between Catholic, Anglican and Puritan, depending on who was in power. He said it made him question not God but man’s versions of God. His father used to joke their religion was bread, but he would never say it to anyone outside the family, because one never knew who would come into power next and what rules would be replaced with new rules.
He never imagined that another man would undress him even if all he had on was a night shirt that barely came to his knees. He wondered if it were the General’s. He wouldn’t ask. The water was lukewarm. Robert soaped the cloth before wiping it on James’s body, giving special attention to his underarms. Then he would dip the cloth in the already soapy water before “rinsing” the area he’d just washed.
Before he could warn Robert not to go near his prick, Robert said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch your willie or bag.”
The sponge bath left him so exhausted that he fell asleep in the chair where Robert had deposited him like some castoff clothing.
A knock on the door woke him. Before he could tell the person to enter, Beth came in pressing clean linen to her chest.
She didn’t say anything but bobbed as a demi-curtsy.
He wanted to ask her about herself, but she acted as if he weren’t in the room. And talking still took more energy that he could seem to summon.
Without a word she stripped and remade his bed. Each movement was graceful. As a finishing touch she fluffed the two pillows before bouncing another curtsy and leaving with the dirty linen clutched to her chest.
Although the bed was only a few steps away from the chair, James grabbed onto the nightstand before collapsing in the bed and pulling the covers up to his neck. He was asleep within seconds.
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