Lexington: Anatomy of a Novel Chapters 49 and 50

 

Chapter 49

Boston, Massachusetts

January 1775

 

 

JAMES DIDN’T UNDERSTAND why, unless the General had ordered it, that he was still sleeping in the Gage household. It had taken three weeks before he started feeling human and even now he tired easily. He suspected if he were doing the regular marching drills, he would have recovered faster, having been forced to build up strength with the exercise.

He missed the camaraderie of other soldiers. He appreciated escaping mundane daily chores. He was grateful that he could read and write. The number of books from the General’s library was a sharp contrast to his bookless childhood. He wasn’t sure how he had become such a strong reader, so much so that he’d often been asked to read documents for his parents’ friends. More than once, he had written letters for them.

The General continued commuting between Salem and Boston. Salem was less hostile, but he claimed he could get the “lay of the land” better in Boston.

At least once a day when he was with the General, James heard him say how he wanted peace, adding, “If only they could see what war is like. I’ve seen enough battles to know it’s a living hell.”

During James’ recovery, Mrs. Gage spent hours with him, first in the bedroom he had taken over and later, when he was stronger, in the library or dining room depending on the time of day. Because her children were occupied with their tutor, and the staff saved her from domestic chores, he wondered if she were bored and thus wanted to hear about floods in Ely or how a bakery operated. She pressed him with question after question including ones about his late wife. For the first time, when he spoke of Bess, their life together seemed like something from his imagination.

They talked about the rebels — that is what the General and members of his government called them — becoming more restless. Mrs. Gage called them patriots but not in her husband’s hearing.

As James grew stronger, she insisted that he dress and go downstairs. They were sitting in the room designated as the library with about 100 leather-covered book and newspapers. When he put his hands on the stack, she asked, “Do you read the papers too?”

“I’ve fallen behind with events since I’ve been sick.”

“Feel free to read ours. What’s your favorite?”

“The Boston Gazette.”

“Mine too. The General won’t look at it.” She leaned towards him and lowered her voice although the General had left for the State House an hour before. “It would do him good. He could learn what the Colonists are thinking, maybe even see their point of view. They aren’t totally wrong with what they want.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Does that shock you? Of course, I can’t share that opinion with my husband.”

He nodded.

She looked out the window. With her back to him, she continued. “I was born in New Jersey. I’ve lived in London, but it was like a foreign country to me, although I did enjoy the luxury.” She laughed. “I admit it. I do enjoy comfort.”

Beth poked her head through the door to ask if they wanted anything. Mrs. Gage turned from the window and ordered tea for both of them. “I’m almost ashamed of how easily we can get tea and how most of the Bostonians would have to sell their souls to pay for a good cuppa.” She handed Beth the key to the box where she’d locked their supply.

“By the way, Dr. Church will join us for dinner tonight. Your being here gives him an excuse to spend time.”

James wondered if that was why Gage kept him in the house during his illness. Tomorrow he would resume his duties, but only the secretarial ones. Although secretarial duties were not part of the original plan when he assumed the role of part-time orderly to the General, his abilities in reading and writing, once discovered by the General, were put to good use. In that capacity, he had read some of the reports from Dr. Church about the rebels, as Church also called them.

Once alone in the library, James answered several correspondences from London. A ship was sailing in two days and the General wanted to make sure that his superiors knew the full extent of the situation.

 

Chapter 50

Boston, Massachusetts

January 1775

 

DR. BENJAMIN CHURCH stood outside the Governor’s mansion’s front door. He stamped his feet and brushed snow off his cloak to keep from tracking any inside to a minimum.

Rather than wait for the maid to answer the door, the General opened the door himself, his hand outstretched. “Welcome, welcome.”

The doctor dropped his medical bag and handed his cloak to the maid whoa stood behind the General.

Church wore his wig, although Gage did not. “I suppose I should take a gander at young Holloway.”

“He’ll be eating with us this evening, Dr. Church.” Mrs. Gage had followed her husband and the maid into the hallway. “I’ll add my welcome. I hope you’re hungry.

“Famished. I ate breakfast in Concord this morning but not a bite since then.”

James was already seated at the table. He rose when the Doctor and Gages entered. Because of the heavy oriental carpet covering the parquet flooring, there were no sounds of chairs being pulled out and pushed back as they seated themselves.

The smell of roasting meat wafted in from the kitchen located next to the dining room.

“Will you say grace, Dr. Church?” Mrs. Gage asked.

James was surprised. Since he had been out of bed, he had taken all of his meals with the family. No one had said grace. The four of them joined hands.

“Dear Lord, thank you for the meal we are about to receive. We are grateful for your help in preserving the peace in these trying times. May you grant us the wisdom and strength to persevere to do your mission on earth and to save our precious King. Amen.”

“That was lovely, Dr. Church.” Mrs. Gage rang a small bell to the left of her fork.

The maid appeared with a pork roast surrounded by carrots and onions. She set it in front of the General to carve, which he did with flare. When everyone was served the meal and a red wine poured, he said, “Eat everything, James. You must rebuild your strength.”

“His stomach is still delicate, General. Eat what you are comfortable with, Holloway,” Dr. Church said.

The General had a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. He frowned as if to say, “I’m not used to being corrected. I don’t like it.” Instead, he said, “Let’s not waste any more time. Although we shouldn’t discuss affairs over a good meal, if we wait until after dinner, the snow will make it harder for you to get home, Church.”

James noted that the General did not use doctor in addressing his guest. Over the months that he’d been an orderly, he had observed multiple ways people spoke and positioned themselves physically that were heavy with multiple meanings.

“I appreciate that, Gage. The shorter my stay, if anyone sees me coming and going, they will assume I’m doing my doctorly duty for poor James here.”

Rather than selling secrets, James thought, although he doubted that Dr. Church was being paid. Or maybe he was. James did not like the doctor, even if he had taken excellent care of him. Cranesbill and witch hazel had helped early on, although James and the chamber pot had been constant companions until two weeks ago.

During most of his illness, even the idea of eating had made James want to vomit. He accepted the broth force-fed him by Mrs. Gage spoonful by spoonful. Swallowing was preferable to throwing up on the good lady.

For the first time since he had fallen ill, the food on his plate looked a bit appealing. He brought his attention back to the conversation.

“Your letters have been very informative,” the General said, “I do hope that you are disguising your handwriting in case they fall into the wrong hands.”

“And I’m sure you are destroying them after digesting them.”

“Of course.”

The General was lying, James knew. The letters were filed in chronological order, because he was the one who filed them. He had copied them for forwarding to London. In some cases, the General had added notes, actions taken, and recommendations. Perhaps he wanted a record if his superiors in London challenged his decisions.

James would never ask. His position was strange enough, and he wasn’t about to take any liberties, although he accepted those special favors given him by the General.

Financially, he was being paid extra for his time with the General, which was typical of soldiers serving in officers’ homes as domestic servants. He wondered if he would be paid for staying in bed, acting as a decoy for Dr. Church. He had no intention of asking.

“I’ve news of a new committee being formed.” Dr. Church cut his carrots into smaller pieces. He sipped his wine indicating with a facial expression it was to his liking. “The Committee of Supply. They’re preparing for war.”

“Weapons? Gun powder? “Not planning to steal more cannons? I haven’t heard of any more missing.”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it? Is there a difference between it and the Committee of Safety?” The General slapped the table so hard with his hand that the wine glasses quivered. “I’m so damned tired of this committee and that committee and all of them against our King.”

Dr. Church nodded. “They’ve only been meeting since November, Gage, the Committee of Safety, that is.”

James noted that Dr. Church was not in the least cowed by the General. Perhaps as a leading surgeon from a respected local family, he felt he was an equal. Or perhaps it was because the government run by the British was losing power to the local governments that were being formed in the different towns surrounding the city. Dr. Church, James thought, was covering himself no matter what happened.

“They’re preparing for a possible war,” Church said.

“They wouldn’t be that damned stupid. Country bumpkins against the power of England. We’ve had a civil war with Cromwell, and we all know that was a disaster.”

“I’m not sure they know of it. It would have been their grandparents or great grandparents or even great-great. Many of the people here now have been here for two, three generations so their awareness of events so long ago in another country …” Church cut a piece of meat but did not put it into his mouth “… is limited.”

Throughout the exchange Mrs. Gage and James did not move or speak. Their eyes would meet. James wished he could read her mind.

“And what is this Committee of Safety doing?”

“Not just weapons. Remember almost every person has his own musket. They are laying in salt pork, flour, rice and other foods that will last. Mess bowls. They are looking for tools, shovels, spades.”

The General sat back in his chair. He played with his fork. “I’m not sure what rag tag farmers can do with shovels against our well-trained forces.”

“They’re training, too. And they’re using your manuals, especially on weapons.”

Again, the General leaned forward. “We must find those cannons. We must destroy their supplies. I don’t see any other way to stave off a conflict.”