Chapter 14
Ely, England
April 1773
James’ sister-in-law continued handing him
faggots to put into the brick oven. He thought she must have heard but was
pretending not to. His last chore here.
Although it was still too early to light
the fire, he stopped what he was doing. There would have been no good time to
make the announcement that he was joining the army. Not just joining but leaving
within an hour. “When did you decide?”
“Last night. When I walked home from the
Rooster.”
“LAST NIGHT? You are crazy!”
William had two forms to show his anger. One was getting quieter and quieter,
forcing whispers through his clenched lips. The alternative was screaming, but
William used that far less. James always thought that he went quiet to maintain
control because people had to lean closer to hear. When he did holler, it meant
he’d lost control allowing anger to take over his mouth and body. He hollered
the words “Last Night” and whispered, “You are crazy.”
“I need to get my things together.” James
left the room. One staircase, behind the door to the far left of the oven, led
to the family living space. A second staircase from the back of the family
living space ended in the small attic room where James slept.
The door didn’t shut tightly. He needed to
jiggle the iron bar to make it line up with the hook. When he and Bess had
wanted to make love, they had to fiddle with it to give themselves privacy. Then
they had thrown the horsehair mattress onto the floor to keep the metal bed
frame from squeaking.
More than once they’d wondered about
William and Alice’s sex life. “I feel sorry for Alice,” Bess had said. “William
probably counts his thrusts.” It had sent them into such laughter, the kind
where it is next to impossible to stop, that the next morning William had
complained about the racket upstairs.
So many memories in this room, James
thought. As a child he had shared it with William until all their three sisters
had married, freeing the third bedroom.
William was two years older, already working
in the bakery, while James at seven, still went to school. Their parents had
insisted all their children learn to read, write and do basic addition and
subtraction. Math was important to tally accounts and measure recipes.
From the day the children had entered
school, they were expected to help with the business before and after class.
James had preferred school to working in
the bakery: he didn’t hate the work, it just seemed so repetitious. He was good
at it. He never thought there were alternatives until now.
As he grew older and stronger, kneading
the dough in the trough was a release. If he were unhappy about someone, he
would imagine their face in the dough as he pounded it with his fists. When a
bully beat him up, he’d written the boy’s name in the dough and pounded on the letters.
Shaping the dough was alright too. Too
often his mind drifted and the loaves would be uneven, earning him a swat first
from his parents and later from William who took over the bakery after their
parents died. William had been fifteen, James thirteen.
The only parts James really loved about
the business were sales and deliveries, allowing him to get away for the better
part of the afternoon and chat with clients.
Now he was going away for who knew how
long. He sat on the bed and wondered if he would ever be back.
Alice stood in the doorway. “May I come
in?”
James would miss Alice. What William would
have been like without her calming influence, he had no idea. He motioned with
his hand to a place next to him.
She sat on the bed next to the pile of the
things he was taking.
“I understand why you want to get away.
You’re young. You’ve suffered a great sadness.” She put her hand on his arm.
“Maybe you could go next month. Give William a chance to find someone else.”
“I’m sure one of our nephews will come.
“Stephen maybe. He loves being in Ely.”
“It’s a good idea. I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.” He realized it was true.
“I think I’m pregnant again.”
“I hope this time …” He didn’t need to say
more. This could be the fifth miscarriage and he knew how much Alice wanted a
baby. Her friends’ wives popped out infants annually.
“If it is like last time, William will
really need someone.”
James remembered. Alice had been in bed
with a fever for two weeks. No one thought she would survive. When she did, she
couldn’t work for another month. Bess, although she was pregnant, had taken
Alice’s place as well as doing her own work. Maybe that had added to Bess’
problems. Despite thinking that, he didn’t blame Alice, just cruel fate.
It was what it was.
Now fate had swooped down to say no it
wasn’t what it was. It could be different.
He threw his few clothes on top of the
woolen blanket and tied it so that there was a loop to carry. He had never been
away from this house overnight before. It was only day trips and even those had
been infrequent.
William was furious when he saw the
blanket holding James’ clothes. “I’ll need that blanket for the apprentice I’ll
have to find thanks to your abandonment.”
For a moment, James thought about leaving
it. It was his blanket. Bess had made it, before their wedding, using her
mother’s loom.
“Sorry, I’m taking it.” He wasn’t the
least sorry.
James shut the door with a clack that the
neighbors must have heard. It drowned out William’s, “Don’t come back when it
doesn’t work out.”
It would be strange not to be ruled by a
schedule of bread-making and selling, a routine as regular as any clock. He had
a certain amount of pride in what he did. His grandmother and then his mother
always said to do your best. Perhaps that is why the bakery had been so
successful for so long.
In his grandmother’s day they might use
more rye. Now they used wheat flour, but they had never added alum like some
other bakers did.
None of that mattered now. He was onto a new life, and he would still do his best, only he hoped he had more passion for whatever lay ahead of him.
Chapter 15
The road to Winchester, England
April 1773
THE
ROUTE TO Winchester was one hundred and fifty-two miles through farmlands,
villages and forests. Travelers followed rock-strewn dirt paths. At best, the
new soldiers could only make about ten miles on a good day.
In two villages, they stayed an extra day
to recruit other young men. Corporal Carver and Serjeant Longworth increased
their number from eight to ten.
If James Holloway found the forest route
boring, the slightly bigger cities of Cambridge and Newmarket were interesting.
He wondered why he had never gone to Cambridge which was close to Ely.
He had wanted his life to be different for
so long: now it was, but it seemed strange to not being locked into a routine.
His fellow recruits, including his friend
Thomas Miller, were all between 18 and 25. They bounced over the paths in a
wooden cart pulled by two horses. Corporal Carver and Serjeant Longworth rode
on horseback alternating with one ahead and one behind the cart as if they were
afraid the men would escape.
One man did escape.
Benjamin had joined on their fourth day.
It was a night when they slept on the ground in a wood near a stream after
catching trout and picking wild strawberries. It was one of the best meals they
had eaten since leaving Ely.
When the future foot soldiers woke on the
fifth morning of the trek, Benjamin was gone. At first, they thought he might
be in the woods relieving himself. Then they noticed his blanket and clothes had
disappeared. He hadn’t taken anything not belonging to him.
Serjeant Longworth screamed, “This is why
we don’t give anyone the sign-up money until you’re at the barracks.”
Corporal Carver ignored the rant as he hitched
the horses to the cart. For some reason, the recruits couldn’t understand why only
Carver took care of the horses, especially Thomas who thought he could have
done it better. All other chores, making the fire to cooking the dinner from
the supplies or what they had foraged, clearing an area in the woods to sleep,
guarding them in turns during the night were done by the recruits.
No tents protected them when they went to
sleep. Instead, they gathered branches for lean-tos. Fortunately, it didn’t
rain during the trip.
April nights could still be chilly, and
they’d wrapped themselves in the blankets they had brought from home. James was
glad that he hadn’t left his with William. Even if Bess had made it, it was
rough and scratchy. Why he thought the army would provide softer blankets he
had no idea.
The cart had hard wooden benches creating
a pain in their bums reminding James of his father’s paddlings when he
misbehaved. Sitting on his clothes bundle as they bumped along helped a little.
He didn’t want to think about the splinter
that embedded itself in his right hand when he grabbed the wooden seat as he
was jostled about.
On the third day, his hand become infected.
By sucking the infection then spitting out, the pus it began healing. James
said nothing. A brave soldier would not complain.
The recruitment serjeant had promised they
would see things they never thought they would see if they stayed at home.
In Newmarket they saw incredibly beautiful
horses. “Bred for racing,” Carver said. “Big races since forever.” The ambiance
was so different from their first stop in Cambridge.
In Cambridge students dominated the
streets slowing the cart’s progress. Longworth pulled up to a pub/hostel where
he’d stayed with recruits on other trips. They found real beds and a bar that
served food.
“Look around, but be back before dark,” Serjeant
Longworth ordered.
James did just that. The streets were
filled with students. A boat floated down the river carrying five students, one
in the back pushing it with a stick.
He wasn’t sure how to describe the color
of the different university building bricks: white, gray, brown, a mixture. What
were the turrets for?
Hungry, he headed back to the place they
were staying. The ground floor room was long and dark with rectangular tables
and benches. The smell of burning wood and meat cooking made him hungrier.
He had taken enough coins from home to
wolf down a good meal of beef topped off with some of the best beer he’d ever
tasted. Although the bread was good, he felt his family produced better.
Four of his fellow recruits joined him as
the room filled with students and three families until there wasn’t a free
place. The noise level ebbed and flowed as people stopped talking to eat.
Although James had finished his meal, he
wasn’t in a rush to leave. He loved the atmosphere, especially with the
students. What would it be like to be a student? To roam the halls of those
huge brick buildings?
Despite the babble, he picked up bits of
conversations.
“The formula won’t work.”
“Marcus Actorius Naso had to have lived
during Caesar’s time.”
“He may have known him.”
Two boys to his left were speaking in another language.
James didn’t understand. Maybe it was Latin.
He heard students discuss a young girl in town who was
more than happy to open her legs. “And very nice legs they are too.”
Suddenly, Serjeant Longworth stood behind him. “Go to
bed. We are leaving very early in the morning.”
I’m in the army and have to do as I’m told, he
thought. He shivered, thinking it wasn’t that different from William telling
him what to do.
In his bed that night, James thought back at how much
he had enjoyed school and again wished he could be a student here worrying
about someone named Marcus Actorius Naso and a pretty girl’s legs.
He rolled over, tucking his hands under his head. I’ve
changed my life and I should be satisfied, he thought. I should. I will have
adventures these students won’t. That should be enough. Maybe.
Note: Tomorrow in Chapters 16 and 17, James will discover the rigors of army life. He'll get his uniform and will learn about weapons.
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