Lexington: Anatomy of a Novel

 

Chapter 63

Geneva, Switzerland

Whew! I’ve wound up Daphne and Florence. Their success in finding a publisher was much easier than reality, although it does happen as it did for Robert B. Parker and Ian Rankin whose first novels were snapped up. Mary Higgins Clark’s daughter probably didn’t have any problems getting published. Florence had an industry contact which made it possible.

Just because they have a publisher doesn’t mean instant success. Educational publishing is not a lucrative field for the writers. The credential of the comic book, maybe, would help Daphne to find a job back in Scotland, but I won’t follow her that far. I just want to leave the possibility that things might work out for her.

My husband has started reading the manuscript. He is in Dallas visiting his daughter and family. I hadn’t told him about the anatomy part of the novel, he just knew about the historic and current plots. At first he was confused, but then decided he liked it.

I also heard back from Ranger Jim with dates of arrival in Boston for James’ ship. The name of the ship is still missing. I think I’ve enough information about the type of ship he would have been on and combined with the dates of arrival, it will ring true.

I am coming to the final part of the novel, the actual battle.

My husband is worried that to write about it will leave me too sad. We already know what will happen to James. He would prefer I wait for his return in eight days. He knows how real my characters become to me.

Chapter 64

Boston to Lexington

April 18, 17

JAMES HOLLOWAY fell asleep early. During the last two days he’d put in long hours. The General had sent him hither and yon to find leaders of different regiments to put together a force of about 700 men to go to Lexington and Concord to seize the weapons that had so long evaded him.

James had no idea when it would happen, but it would be soon, he knew that. He also knew he would march to Lexington and Concord with his regiment.

Dealing with the General had been exhausting, so it had been a relief when the General ordered him to go to his barracks and get as much sleep as he could.

He had been told by the General at least five times to not say a word to anyone, including his fellow soldiers. James certainly wouldn’t confide in Mollie Clark, with whom he had taken two walks. They had pretended to meet by accident and only went a short distance together to not upset her father.

Nor would he tell Sally Brewster. She didn’t seem to care one way or another who was ruling Boston. People need fire buckets no matter what government was in control, she claimed. She was totally involved in her painting and not just on the buckets. Last week she had brought out her drawings with the caveat, “They aren’t very good.”

“They’re very good, including the drawing of me in uniform,” he had told her only to watch her blush as she did whenever he complimented her. If he were to look for a wife, she would make an excellent one, but it was a big if. Not just because he had so little money to support a wife, the world around him was becoming more unsettled with talk of insurrection.

He knew the General was determined to round up cannons, powder, cartridges, ammunitions, tents, shovels, food, whatever might be needed in battle premagainst the troops.

He also knew the General was under pressure from London to solve the uprisings. He didn’t need the General to tell him London did not understand the reality of Massachusetts.

James wasn’t sure if the General understood either. Both from what he read and in his talks with Mrs. Gage, James understood the point of view of the patriots as well as the army.

His parents had had an attitude based on tales handed down from the time of Oliver Cromwell that the ordinary man lived at the whim of whoever was in power, be it the mayor, landlord or king. That people had the right to establish their own rules for their own lives seemed unrealistic, but at the same time very appealing.

James always had had the ability to fall asleep anywhere. Not recently.

Different thoughts ran through his mind, but they disappeared almost as quickly as they came. On April 18, 1774, his thoughts were of how the General had said to Lieutenant Colonel Francis Smith and Major John Pitcairn, who were among the leaders of the planned march and search mission, to not steal from the locals. When James turned on his left side, he thought of the General saying, “I don’t want to hurt anyone or destroy any property.”

How that would be possible with some 700 well-trained, armed men against the stubborn rebels, he wasn’t sure.

James often had premonitions about things that came true. He had chalked up his worry that something would happen to his wife when she was pregnant as just stupid. It had come true. More than once, he had thought a thunder or hailstorm would come. The times were not so numerous that James considered he had any special gift. “I’m just observant,” he told himself.

Having a bad feeling about the mission was natural considering all the tensions. If only the rebels didn’t fight about paying taxes. If only the rebels would give up their damned weapons, things would quiet down.

The men had many names: rebels, patriots, colonists, loyalists … but loyal to whom? Not everyone was angry at the King.

“Wake up, wake up.”

James swatted at his ear. He opened his eyes and tried to keep them open. Corporal Tilley came into focus. He was holding a candle. “Get dressed. Full uniform. Cartridge pouch, cartridges, everything. Be quiet as ghosts.”

James knew it was wrong to ask why. An order was an order. When he sat up, he saw three of his fellow privates struggling into their uniforms. Corporal Tilley was moving around the room whispering into the ear of each private.

There were whispers of “What is this for?”

Hearing the whispers, Tilley rushed over and took the speaker by the shoulders and whispered the order, “Shut up.”

James was sure this was what the General had been planning.