Lexington: Anatomy of a Novel

 

Chapter 55

Argeles-sur-mer, France

June

I FINISHED ANOTHER review of what I’d written to this point, which I alternated with research. I filed in holes in the manuscript from facts I’d discovered. The research confirmed that General Gage grew more and more desperate to locate the stolen cannons. The pressure from London had to have added to it.

The question was how to portray Gage’s desperation. Since I have written nothing from Gage’s point of view, it makes more sense to show it through James’ point of view.

I didn’t want to write a scene where I send James with Colonel Leslie to Salem to seize the stolen cannons. The General would want him to stay in Boston and not risk him going on a mission.

The solution was to have James sit in on Leslie’s report to the General. This is the device I used to reveal much of the history. James makes a good reporter.

What surprised me was what I discovered about Leslie’s mission. Even being from New England and having visited Salem many times, I never knew about this preliminary skirmish, only about the big battle in Lexington. It was not taught in any of my American history classes.

When I visited Salem, it was more to look at the history of the witch trials and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s House of Seven Gables. The town itself relied heavily on tourists and as such has a commercial feel.

On visits, I admit I was more interested in a candy store that sold old-fashioned Molasses Sponge Toffee. Made with sour vinegar, sugar, butter and baking soda, it creates a bubbly foam, which hardens, leaving air pockets. The candy melts in the mouth. It’s hard to find, but each Christmas my daughter tracks it down as a special present.

I don’t know if that candy existed in the days that the General was searching for weapons. If it had, I could have made it a favorite of Mrs. Gage.

This is what I find frustrating — work is going smoothly but in forty-five minutes we need to take Sherlock to the vet. It is more a series of small things, such as a check if his ear infection is gone, than anything serious. I’m sure every writer finds life interferes with writing.

Chapter 56

Boston, Massachusetts

February 1775

TO SAY IT had been a difficult month for James was an understatement. He had had almost no time to drill with his regiment. The few times he did, he felt his actions were not as automatic as they should be in the way he handled his Brown Bess. At least some strength and energy were returning. Other soldiers who were recovering from dysentery were also struggling, but they did not have split responsibilities.

He had asked Corporal Tilley to borrow the Manual of Arms to review the thirty-five different drills given in the manual. These he read at night by candlelight to the snores of his fellow privates.

Corporal Tilley had remarked that very few privates would be able to read and understand the Manual like James did. He suggested maybe they should exchange ranks.

James could not explain why he was so devoted to learning how to fight properly, something he never thought he would have to do … never wanted to do.

The soldiers were aware that tensions between the army and locals were growing … James even more so. He was with the General almost every day. There had been only one day last week when the General insisted that he train with the regiment and that was because it wasn’t routine training. The regiments went out of the city into a wood to practice shooting.

The officers kept telling them how expensive cartridges were and yelled “Aim, aim, aim.” They practiced individually, and then they practiced in formation until their cartridge cases were empty and their Brown Bess guns hot to the touch.

More and more the General was in what James’ mother would have called “a tizzy.” Even Mrs. Gage couldn’t calm him. He had yelled at her once to get out and leave him to do men’s work. That was the only time James had seen him raise his voice at his wife.

The maid ushered a man into the study where the General and James were drafting letters to the governors of other colonies, suggesting they work together against any uprising. The sentiment might not be as high as it was in Massachusetts, according to different intelligent reports, but it was there.

“What is it?” the General asked the man. “And who are you?”

“A sailor. William Barrows, Sir. We just docked from London. I was told to bring you this from London and to run.” He handed the General an envelope.

James stifled a smile. If they just docked from London, the letter had taken months to arrive in Boston. Running to save a few minutes seemed ridiculous at best. He would not say it. In fact, considering the General’s mood the last few weeks, he usually only said, “Yes, Sir,” or “No, Sir.” The only time he ate with the family was when the General was out of town and Mrs. Gage invited him for company.

Lunches, when eaten in the kitchen with the cook, maid and the children’s tutor, were a relief compared to the tension when he ate in the study with the General.

Often if they were on the road, the General didn’t bother eating at all.

“Wait for a reply, sailor.” The General rang for the maid and ordered her to take the sailor to the kitchen for tea and something to eat if the man was hungry.

Unless the ship was leaving the harbor shortly after arriving, James didn’t see the need to get a response prepared so fast.

The General tore open the envelope. His frown deepened, if that were possible. “Bloody hell! James, tell the sailor, I’ve forgotten his name, he can go back to his ship after he eats.”

The General paced around the study waving the paper he had just received. “Fuck! Shit! Bloody balls!”

James wasn’t sure what to do other than stay out of the General’s way.

“What in the name in all that’s holy do they expect me to do differently? I ask you.”

James said nothing because he still didn’t know what was in the letter. Even then, he doubted he could have said anything that would have helped the General.

“I’ve tried to find those bloody cannons. I’ve tried to keep control of the powder. I’ve tried to keep those damned colonists from forming their own governments.”

The General went behind his desk, sat down, and stood up again. “Democracy? What the hell do they know about democracy? Most of them are illiterate. Humans need kings.”

James wanted to say that he supposed there were good kings and bad kings. He didn’t know much history, but he’d read articles in the Boston Gazette on power abuses. Controlling one’s own destiny didn’t seem such a bad idea, but there was no way he was going to ever speak that idea aloud much less let the General hear those words from him.

James knew that the General was doing everything he could.

There was another knock at the door and the maid entered. She handed the General an envelope.

The General’s face changed. “Read this, James. Wonderful news.”

James recognized Dr. Church’s writing. He had filed enough letters from the man, despite the General claiming to have destroyed them.

“It says that the cannons are in Salem. Twelve. Near the North River.” James wondered with all the time that the General had spent in Salem if he hadn’t passed where they were hidden. Another thing he would never say.

“Go get Lt. Col. Alexander Leslie. Find him and tell him to come here immediately. He’s going to go get those cannons, now.”