Lexington: Anatomy of a Novel Ch.44-45

 

Chapter 44

Argelès-sur-Mer France

May

 

 

BEFORE I PROCEED, I’m reviewing the first 42 chapters of the first draft.

What makes a first draft? Maybe that is not the correct term. Some people would say the first draft are the first words written down.

To me the first draft is the writing until the entire story is told. Each day, I’ll go over and tweak what is done before. Sometimes I’ll go back a couple of days. This not only tightens the writing, it primes the writing pump, but I don’t consider it a first draft.

What you call it isn’t as important as having the writing as polished as possible.

When the first draft is done, I’ll rewrite, rearrange chapters, paragraphs, sentences edit and polish. Then I hand it to my husband or my first reader for his editing.

Some of my reviewing is solving a continuity problem. Is Clark spelled with or without an e? Does James have one or two sisters, those sorts of things? Is a six-foot man in chapter 2, five-foot-four in chapter 10? That’s my punishment for not being the type of writer that plans everything in advance.

I discovered I needed to tweak the timeline for Daphne’s story. I have her researching when Florence’s work is already advanced. I will need to correct that.

Also, I need work on chapter numbering. The anatomy chapters, like this one, weren’t originally numbered but scattered among the numbered ones. In all my novels, I find the chapter numbers out of order at some point. Thank goodness for the Find button so I can read down the chapter list and see where I’ve messed up.

One thinks of writer’s creativity, but neatness counts: spacing, margins etc. No matter how careful one is, how many readers and editors there are, always, always, always some little mistakes show up after publishing. At least these days they can be corrected on e-books, but not on the print ones.

I had already decided that these two women will interest James: Mollie Clark and Sally Brewster. Both will play “walk on” parts as my “reader” at Glamorgan University described characters that appear, play a tiny role and then disappear. Love the British/Welsh university term “reader” rather than mentor, professor or thesis advisor.

I keep checking dates. I verified the second Boston Tea Party was in 1774 not 1775. I hadn’t known there were two Boston Tea Parties and I’m a Bostonian. I’ve even been on a replica of The Beaver, the first tea party ship, and I still didn’t know about the second one.

This is polishing, not wasted writing time. By polish I mean strengthening my verbs. “Ing” verbs can be weaker. I eliminate some adverbs. I change show to tell. Paragraphs have been deleted. Other paragraphs have been cut and pasted elsewhere.

The writing is still rougher than I like, but the story is progressing.

Global changes caught me out again. I wanted to change Mary’s name to Bess to match the name of the Brown Bess rifle. I did a find-replace. The word infirmary was changed to infirBess. It happened before in my novel Family Value when I changed Lou to Gino. Everyone knows about the southern state of Ginoisiana and a woman might want to buy a pretty bginose and skirt.

I wonder if the drawings will make the work less serious. I also wonder about how having the whole anatomy thingie changes the work. The novel has become three different ones in one.

Again I wish I were one of those writers that have everything planned out in advance, but I’m not. Writing a book, for me, is a bit like reading one. I’m never sure how it ends until I finish, although what happened to James has been predetermined by history.

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 again. 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 what 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’. 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 were 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 horse and 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 her blue eyes were a bit like Mollie Clark’s. What made him think of her now? Her 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 scrapped 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. Ordinarily he would have loved every mouthful. Instead, he cut small pieces of the pancake and ham and nibbled at them.

“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 over 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.