away. No, you are right – I
am
the one in true peril.’
He had reverted to their game. But now it was she who would not play.
‘In that sense, you are in no peril at all, sir. And, at war’s end …’ She paused.
They had never finally settled on what peace would mean, for much depended on which side was victorious. If the Rebels won,
those who had remained loyal to the Crown would be perceived as traitors, driven away. Many whose lands lay in Rebel control
had already sacrificed them. But if the Crown triumphed … could there be a future for them?
The sailor dropped from the mast above, preventing any clarification. He landed with a thump that made them both start, tugged
his forelock to them, and went whistling ever more tunelessly on his way. As he moved off, they laughed and eight bells sounded.
‘Supper?’
‘Aye.’ Something in him was reluctant, something of their conversation still clinging to him. He remembered something else
now about green dresses. Lizzie Farren would never wear one on stage. For the same reason as the Cornish or the New Yorkers.
He shivered. She took his arm in an instant. ‘Cold, Jack?’
‘A little.’
‘Then let us get warm together.’
The aft cabin of the
Ariadne
, which Burgoyne had commandeered from its Captain, was bright with light. Lanterns perched on every surface not filled with
food or drink, dangled from hooks in the ceiling, yellow beams reflecting off cut glass decanters, crystal bumpers, and the
silver trenchers that held the best Meissen china.
On the morrow, John Burgoyne would step ashore and take command of the Army of the North. So the end of the voyage and the
eve of a glorious enterprise demanded only the finest in all things. It also was an opportunity for the General to gather
his commanders, to make or renew acquaintance with the men who would serve throughout the coming campaign. He intended to
feast them well, to testtheir mettle and know their minds by loosening their tongues with the miracles his personal chef had conjured from the ship’s
galley and with special selections from his famous wine cellar. ‘Gentleman Johnny’ was said to dine as well on campaign as
King George did in his palace. Better, many maintained, for the General had better taste.
Jack, as befitted his lowlier rank, sat at the table’s far end, away from his Commander. Yet there were barely a dozen people
in the cramped cabin and he was able to hear any conversation he chose. Indeed, one of his particular talents was an ability
to keep two in mind at once while conducting a third. A practical skill for a spy and Jack had been asked to use it, to study
and note the men gathered there that night, and to report his observations to Burgoyne later.
The difficulty with any mission of espionage lay in its geography. The terrain Jack had to cover here presented no obstacles
of bog or leaf-choked trail; there were no impenetrable codes to crack. Here he merely had to negotiate bumper after bumper
of Burgoyne’s fine liquors. Sipping discreetly was only allowed between toasts and it was a rare five minutes when someone
did not have something or someone to huzzah. Honour demanded that when a king, a general, a lady, a regiment, or any other
of several dozen excuses was called upon, a whole glass must be drained. Upon which some hearty would nearly always cry, ‘Aye,
that’s right, fellows, always wet both eyes,’ and a second would immediately follow. If Jack had been in a tavern or even
his regiment’s mess, he’d make sure that every second glass, at the least, was thrown over his shoulder but the floor of the
cabin was not a suitable receptacle. And even if the glass he’d managed to choose was smaller than most, too many full ones
had still found their way into him.
Then there was the heat produced by the lamps, by the dozen bodies in their finest clothes, by the richness of thefood consumed after weeks at sea on a simpler
am
the one in true peril.’
He had reverted to their game. But now it was she who would not play.
‘In that sense, you are in no peril at all, sir. And, at war’s end …’ She paused.
They had never finally settled on what peace would mean, for much depended on which side was victorious. If the Rebels won,
those who had remained loyal to the Crown would be perceived as traitors, driven away. Many whose lands lay in Rebel control
had already sacrificed them. But if the Crown triumphed … could there be a future for them?
The sailor dropped from the mast above, preventing any clarification. He landed with a thump that made them both start, tugged
his forelock to them, and went whistling ever more tunelessly on his way. As he moved off, they laughed and eight bells sounded.
‘Supper?’
‘Aye.’ Something in him was reluctant, something of their conversation still clinging to him. He remembered something else
now about green dresses. Lizzie Farren would never wear one on stage. For the same reason as the Cornish or the New Yorkers.
He shivered. She took his arm in an instant. ‘Cold, Jack?’
‘A little.’
‘Then let us get warm together.’
The aft cabin of the
Ariadne
, which Burgoyne had commandeered from its Captain, was bright with light. Lanterns perched on every surface not filled with
food or drink, dangled from hooks in the ceiling, yellow beams reflecting off cut glass decanters, crystal bumpers, and the
silver trenchers that held the best Meissen china.
On the morrow, John Burgoyne would step ashore and take command of the Army of the North. So the end of the voyage and the
eve of a glorious enterprise demanded only the finest in all things. It also was an opportunity for the General to gather
his commanders, to make or renew acquaintance with the men who would serve throughout the coming campaign. He intended to
feast them well, to testtheir mettle and know their minds by loosening their tongues with the miracles his personal chef had conjured from the ship’s
galley and with special selections from his famous wine cellar. ‘Gentleman Johnny’ was said to dine as well on campaign as
King George did in his palace. Better, many maintained, for the General had better taste.
Jack, as befitted his lowlier rank, sat at the table’s far end, away from his Commander. Yet there were barely a dozen people
in the cramped cabin and he was able to hear any conversation he chose. Indeed, one of his particular talents was an ability
to keep two in mind at once while conducting a third. A practical skill for a spy and Jack had been asked to use it, to study
and note the men gathered there that night, and to report his observations to Burgoyne later.
The difficulty with any mission of espionage lay in its geography. The terrain Jack had to cover here presented no obstacles
of bog or leaf-choked trail; there were no impenetrable codes to crack. Here he merely had to negotiate bumper after bumper
of Burgoyne’s fine liquors. Sipping discreetly was only allowed between toasts and it was a rare five minutes when someone
did not have something or someone to huzzah. Honour demanded that when a king, a general, a lady, a regiment, or any other
of several dozen excuses was called upon, a whole glass must be drained. Upon which some hearty would nearly always cry, ‘Aye,
that’s right, fellows, always wet both eyes,’ and a second would immediately follow. If Jack had been in a tavern or even
his regiment’s mess, he’d make sure that every second glass, at the least, was thrown over his shoulder but the floor of the
cabin was not a suitable receptacle. And even if the glass he’d managed to choose was smaller than most, too many full ones
had still found their way into him.
Then there was the heat produced by the lamps, by the dozen bodies in their finest clothes, by the richness of thefood consumed after weeks at sea on a simpler
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