Read Online Tempest at Dawn by James D. Best - Free Book Online Page A

stood
silently against the wall as the guests milled around, looking for
their name placards.
    Sherman took his assigned seat and looked
down from his end of the table toward Franklin and his daughter.
Americans thought of Benjamin Franklin as a diplomat and
philosopher. In Europe, his reputation as a scientist gave him
entry into the most exclusive circles. Women found him charming and
attentive. In Philadelphia, many admired him for his wealth and
business acumen. Most of the delegates, however, didn’t take
Franklin seriously. They loved his hospitality but grew tired of
his anecdotal manner and believed his political skills enfeebled.
He had grown old and had been out of the country far too long.
    Sherman disagreed. He vowed to watch him
carefully.
    The guests quieted as the servants
disappeared. Once everyone had settled, Franklin tapped his glass,
saying, “Welcome, and thank you all. You delight an old man with
your presence. This convention is a momentous occasion, one that
will challenge us. This afternoon, however, remember that our
convention has not yet started, so there is no need to bore
ourselves with talk of politics. Enjoy yourself, eat heartily, and
freshen old acquaintanceships. We’re about to engage in an arduous
endeavor. Let us approach it with camaraderie and cheer. I’d now
like to offer a small prayer to inaugurate our auspicious
undertaking and this distinguished gathering.”
    At the end of Franklin’s short prayer, the
servants emerged in pairs, one carrying a large tureen, while the
other bore a soup ladle as if it were a scepter. The servants
paused just long enough for the rich aroma to waft through the
room, and then swiftly dispersed to three points around the table
to eloquently ladle a portion of cod chowder to each guest. The
table, already set with breads and porter, suddenly became a tangle
of reaching arms, clinking glasses, and genial conversation.
    After the first course, Franklin again
gained everyone’s attention. He remained seated but spoke in an
engaging manner, as if talking to each guest individually.
    “ Prior to our next course, I wish to
propose a toast.” Franklin looked up and down the long table. “I
hope great good from our meeting. Failure will strengthen the
opinion of some political writers that popular governments cannot
support themselves.”
    Raising his porter, Franklin said in a
slightly louder voice, “To our company of delegates, men of
character and ability. May they work in harmony and with unerring
wisdom to grant us an energetic republican government.”
    The guests shouted, Hear! Hear! and other
affirmative noises from every corner of the room, as they raised
their glasses in toast and acknowledgment of their host.
    Once again, the six servants reappeared with
a flourish, each bearing a platter of oysters. This time they
dispersed to six points around the table, bowed slightly in unison,
and then extended the platters to guests.
    Sherman looked around at his dinner
companions. He had been seated with the delegations from New Jersey
and Delaware.
    George Read, of Delaware, following his
gaze, said, “Strange that they seated us together. I’d have thought
the Pennsylvanians would have wanted to keep us apart.”
    “ They don’t fear us talking to each
other; they fear us talking to those who might waver,” Sherman
said.
    “ You believe they’re plotting the
convention?” Read asked.
    “ Of course,” Sherman answered
matter-of-factly, his attention on the other end of the table.
Talent seemed disproportionately distributed to the large states.
Sherman wanted to see who conversed with intimate camaraderie, who
inclined their heads with conspiratorial intent, and who seemed
argumentative.
    Paterson ignored Sherman’s obvious
distraction. “We cannot allow the large states to dictate the
proceedings. We must fight.”
    “ Not the early moves. The Virginians
are too well organized. We’d lose.” Turning his full frame to face
his dinner