Read Online Jack Absolute by C.C. Humphreys - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C.C. Humphreys
Ads: Link
Jack had discovered that the man entrusted with Burgoyne’s Light
Infantry had a core of metal. ‘Sandy’ was also a fine fast bowler and had taken Jack’s wicket in the annual Westminster versus
Harrow Old Boys cricket match seven years before. Despite that, Jack liked him.
‘It was indeed. Though my young friend here is somewhat more agile than myself.’
Pellew said, ‘Tosh, Jack,’ but his argument was interrupted by a voice Jack had already learned to loathe. Its tone was whining,
high-pitched, eerily at variance with a corpulent body.
‘Cornwall, eh?’ said Philip Skene. Turning to Burgoyne, rudely leaning right across the vole-like Mrs Skene, he shouted, ‘General,
did you read Johnson’s latest satire on the Rebels and the legitimacy of their revolt? He wrote that the Cornish have as great,
nay, a greater claim to self-government than these …
Americans.’
The tone the fat Loyalist gave the last word made Jack colour, and he saw Louisa’s smile vanish. Her family might be Loyalist
too, colonists who supported the Crown against the Revolution. But she was an American as well and proud to be so. Whereas
Skene was one of those men who became more English the longer he lived away, the more he profited from the New World he plundered.
He owned vast tracts of the Hudson Valley, the very land the British army must march through to wage their campaign. He had
boasted ofthe thousands of Loyalists there who would rise up at his command, to Burgoyne’s aid.
Jack looked at Skene, at the roll of fat that spilled over his too-tight collar, the heat in the porcine eyes. He also had
the taste shared by many Americans of wearing a wig, long deemed unfashionable in England. Skene’s was old and wispy, two
powdered rolls lodged above the ears. It had worn away in places to reveal patches of flaring pink skin. Rich
and
miserly, Jack noted, a not uncommon combination. He suddenly remembered a story he’d heard of the man – that when his mother
died he’d kept her corpse on a table because so long as she remained ‘above ground’ he could collect her pension.
Jack was there to observe, not comment, let alone debate. But the man irked, not least because he represented all that the
Rebels were right to oppose. Feeling the latest bumper to an old allegiance inspire him, Jack spoke.
‘What Johnson failed to address, Colonel Skene, was that my countrymen of Cornwall can make their grievances known in Parliament
through their elected MPs. The Colonists cannot.’
‘“No taxation without representation!”’ Skene brayed. ‘The Rebel cry! I hardly expected to hear that treason repeated at the
General’s table. But then I ask you, Captain, do children in Cornwall have the vote? Hmm? Do women? Eh? Do the illiterate
miners in their holes? Eh? Eh? For that is what these Americans are, sir. Dependants. Nothing more!’ He jeered, ‘The Declaration
of
Dependence
, that’s what they came up with. That’s what must be crushed, this … Children’s Crusade! Do you not agree, sir?’
Jack glanced around the table. The Germans looked bemused; Pellew was already bored and rooting for more Bishop; Louisa’s
face was composed, but her eyes glowed still at Skene’s gibe at all Americans; Burgoyne’s face held a slight smile, knowing
Jack’s beliefs, relishing his predicament.
He returned his gaze to the flushed face before him. ‘I do not, sir. I believe each American wants only what their brothers
in England already have: the freedom to decide their own destiny. And they want it unrestrained by a political process in
which they have no voice.’
‘You speak like a follower of John Wilkes, man. Are you, then, a … uh, Democrat?’ Balcarras gave the last word an especially
Harrovian shudder.
‘I am … not sure what I am, my Lord.’
‘You sound like a damn Rebel, that’s what. Is this the sort of officer you will rely on, Burgoyne?’ Skene once more shouted
up
Infantry had a core of metal. ‘Sandy’ was also a fine fast bowler and had taken Jack’s wicket in the annual Westminster versus
Harrow Old Boys cricket match seven years before. Despite that, Jack liked him.
‘It was indeed. Though my young friend here is somewhat more agile than myself.’
Pellew said, ‘Tosh, Jack,’ but his argument was interrupted by a voice Jack had already learned to loathe. Its tone was whining,
high-pitched, eerily at variance with a corpulent body.
‘Cornwall, eh?’ said Philip Skene. Turning to Burgoyne, rudely leaning right across the vole-like Mrs Skene, he shouted, ‘General,
did you read Johnson’s latest satire on the Rebels and the legitimacy of their revolt? He wrote that the Cornish have as great,
nay, a greater claim to self-government than these …
Americans.’
The tone the fat Loyalist gave the last word made Jack colour, and he saw Louisa’s smile vanish. Her family might be Loyalist
too, colonists who supported the Crown against the Revolution. But she was an American as well and proud to be so. Whereas
Skene was one of those men who became more English the longer he lived away, the more he profited from the New World he plundered.
He owned vast tracts of the Hudson Valley, the very land the British army must march through to wage their campaign. He had
boasted ofthe thousands of Loyalists there who would rise up at his command, to Burgoyne’s aid.
Jack looked at Skene, at the roll of fat that spilled over his too-tight collar, the heat in the porcine eyes. He also had
the taste shared by many Americans of wearing a wig, long deemed unfashionable in England. Skene’s was old and wispy, two
powdered rolls lodged above the ears. It had worn away in places to reveal patches of flaring pink skin. Rich
and
miserly, Jack noted, a not uncommon combination. He suddenly remembered a story he’d heard of the man – that when his mother
died he’d kept her corpse on a table because so long as she remained ‘above ground’ he could collect her pension.
Jack was there to observe, not comment, let alone debate. But the man irked, not least because he represented all that the
Rebels were right to oppose. Feeling the latest bumper to an old allegiance inspire him, Jack spoke.
‘What Johnson failed to address, Colonel Skene, was that my countrymen of Cornwall can make their grievances known in Parliament
through their elected MPs. The Colonists cannot.’
‘“No taxation without representation!”’ Skene brayed. ‘The Rebel cry! I hardly expected to hear that treason repeated at the
General’s table. But then I ask you, Captain, do children in Cornwall have the vote? Hmm? Do women? Eh? Do the illiterate
miners in their holes? Eh? Eh? For that is what these Americans are, sir. Dependants. Nothing more!’ He jeered, ‘The Declaration
of
Dependence
, that’s what they came up with. That’s what must be crushed, this … Children’s Crusade! Do you not agree, sir?’
Jack glanced around the table. The Germans looked bemused; Pellew was already bored and rooting for more Bishop; Louisa’s
face was composed, but her eyes glowed still at Skene’s gibe at all Americans; Burgoyne’s face held a slight smile, knowing
Jack’s beliefs, relishing his predicament.
He returned his gaze to the flushed face before him. ‘I do not, sir. I believe each American wants only what their brothers
in England already have: the freedom to decide their own destiny. And they want it unrestrained by a political process in
which they have no voice.’
‘You speak like a follower of John Wilkes, man. Are you, then, a … uh, Democrat?’ Balcarras gave the last word an especially
Harrovian shudder.
‘I am … not sure what I am, my Lord.’
‘You sound like a damn Rebel, that’s what. Is this the sort of officer you will rely on, Burgoyne?’ Skene once more shouted
up
Similar Books
