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  The general, meanwhile, was already in transit. Most of his fleet had been constructed during the previous summer and winter. Well-armed frigates such as the Inflexible and the Royal George had been built with a shallow draft, enabling them to sail close to the shore. Some two hundred bateaux had also been hastily completed and soldiers were trained how to row them. Instead of the 12,000 men he had hoped to have at his disposal, however, Burgoyne—when his reinforcements finally caught up with him—would have only about three-quarters that number. His army comprised almost 4,000 British regulars and just over 3,000 Brunswick and Hesse-Hanau troops.

  In addition, he had a small detachment of loyalists and Canadians at his command, and would be joined in time by some hired Indians. The fleet was encumbered by the massive artillery train, and by the best part of a thousand noncombatants—transport and commissariat men, cooks, wives, children, and camp followers. Though horses, wagons, and food rations were in far shorter supply than Burgoyne had requested, he was not daunted. Indeed, from the moment they set off from St. Johns and left Governor Carleton behind them, he was positively elated, able to take full control of his army at last. It was something to be savored.

  As a personal favor, he invited Elizabeth Rainham to sail with him on the Maria on the first stage of the journey. Grateful that she was not traveling with the baggage train, Elizabeth stood on deck beside the general and took the opportunity to probe for detail.

  "I trust that we shall be in no danger," she said.

  "None whatsoever, my dear," Burgoyne assured her. "You'll be kept well behind the lines with the others. You'll hear the artillery, of course—especially the twenty-four-pounders—but it's a sound to which you'll soon become accustomed."

  "Captain Skoyles thought it foolhardy of me to come."

  Burgoyne chuckled. "If you were engaged to him, Skoyles might think differently. I'm certain that Major Featherstone does."

  "Oh, yes," she said. "Harry has no fears at all for my safety. He's delighted that I made the effort to be with him. Harry has this curious inclination to be married on American soil."

  "British colonial soil," he corrected her firmly. "But I can't imagine your parents agreeing to anything as bizarre as that. If I know Richard Rainham, he'll insist on Canterbury Cathedral for his daughter's wedding. Yes, and I daresay that he'll settle for nothing less than the archbishop himself."

  "We shall see. No final decision has been made."

  "You just wished to be with the man you love, is that it?"

  "Yes, General," she admitted with a coy smile. "Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it has many drawbacks. That's why I had to come. If I'm going to be an army wife, I want to have a better understanding of what that means, and the only way to do that is to go on a campaign with Harry. Mark you," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "that's not what I told him."

  "Oh?"

  "I teased Harry that I only made the journey in order to visit Uncle David in New England. Somehow, I don't think that he believed me."

  "I wonder why," said Burgoyne with another chuckle.

  A sudden gust of wind made the brim of her straw hat flap and she put up a hand to steady it. Elizabeth found river transport much more agreeable than battling across the North Atlantic and she gazed at the pristine beauty of forest and mountain as they scudded along. She was also intrigued by the variety of colorful birds that flew overhead, hundreds of them daring to land on the ship's rigging as feathered stowaways. After a few minutes, she raised a topic that had been on her mind for days.

  "Harry tells me that Captain Skoyles won his commission by bravery in the field," she remarked. "Is that true?"

  "True and fairly unusual," he replied. "Most British officers follow tradition and purchase their commissions. I did so myself, Elizabeth, when I was barely older than you, so there's no disgrace in it. Somehow I scraped together two thousand pounds to buy a captaincy in the Royals. Heaven knows how I managed it!"

  "We're all eternally grateful that you did, General. Father says that you were heroic when you fought against the Spaniards in Portugal. He knew then that you were marked out for great things."

  "This will be the greatest," said Burgoyne with passion.

  "Coming back to Captain Skoyles," she said, trying to sound casual, "what exactly did he do to earn his commission?"

  "Best person to ask is Brigadier Fraser. There when it happened, so he was a witness. It was on his recommendation that Skoyles got his lieutenancy."

  "I see. And when a captaincy became vacant, he bought it."

  "No, my dear," Burgoyne explained, "it was exempt from payment because it had been obtained by the incumbent through seniority. Real scramble for the position, I can tell you."

  "I'm sure."

  "Dozens of fellows in the race. Skoyles beat them all, strictly on merit. Buy a commission!" he exclaimed with a short laugh. "I can see that you don't know Jamie Skoyles."

  "I know that he can be blunt."

  "Speaks his mind. Good quality."

  "Not if he criticizes you. I found him rather rude."

  "A trifle untutored, that's all. Skoyles would never be deliberately rude to a woman. Underneath that roughness, he's a real gentleman."

  Elizabeth was about to reply when she noticed that someone had come out on deck, a buxom woman in her early thirties with a mass of brown curls exploding from beneath her hat. Assuming that she herself was the only female aboard, Elizabeth was very surprised to see her.

  "Who's that lady?" she asked.

  "That?" replied Burgoyne, collecting a smile from the woman as he looked in her direction. "Oh, that's Mrs. Mallard," he went on, smoothly. "Her husband is one of our commissary officers."

  Captain Jamie Skoyles was part of the advance corps under Brigadier Fraser that was dispatched ahead of the main army to reconnoiter. When they reached Cumberland Head, north of Valcour Island in Lake Champlain, they made camp and awaited the arrival of the others. Unlike his friend, Lieutenant Charles Westbourne was making the journey for the first time.

  "I had no idea there'd be so many mosquitoes," he complained.

  "It's always worse when we get hot weather after a few days of heavy rain," said Skoyles. "Ideal breeding conditions for them. At least, you get a moment's warning from the mosquitoes. It's the other insects that I hate—the ones you don't see until they've bitten you."

  "The men are very unhappy. Every time we step ashore, they have to go through the same boring routine of clearing brush, digging latrines, collecting wood, and lighting fires."

  "The smoke is the only way to keep the mosquitoes at bay."

  "Even then, we've had to sleep with our hands and faces covered."

  Skoyles was sympathetic. He could see the bites on Westbourne's cheeks and knew how much they must itch. "Take heart, Lieutenant," he said. "Think of all the wonderful things you've seen for the first time. Where is it you hail from—Nottingham, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  "I'll wager that you've never found fish of this size in the River Trent. The pike and salmon are huge, so is the bass. And don't forget all those delicious passenger pigeons we've been eating every day. Some of them were so tired after flying across the lake that they fell out of the trees. All we had to do was to catch them."

  "I know," said Westbourne, rallying, "and I enjoyed every mouthful. But it was the animals that fascinated me. I've never set eyes on moose and beaver before, nor on bears. I saw my first turtle yesterday. It was enormous."

  "One day, you'll be able to boast about it to your children."

  Westbourne was uneasy. "Oh, I'm not sure about that, Captain."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't think I'm the marrying type."

  "You don't need to be married to have children," said Tom Caffrey, jovially, as he joined the two men. "Two minutes of naked lust is all that it takes, Lieutenant. You'll succumb to it one day, sir."

  "I'll take your word for it, Sergeant," said Westbourne, backing away in embar
rassment. "Do excuse me, gentleman. I have things to do."

  Caffrey watched him go. "I didn't mean to frighten him away."

  "He's suffering badly, Tom. That fair skin of his tempts every insect within range. The worst of it is that we've camped here on swampy ground. Venture into the woods and you find swarms of the little devils."

  "Yes, I know," said the other ruefully. "As soon as I lowered my breeches over a latrine, my ass came under attack."

  Caffrey had accompanied the advance corps in case anyone was injured along the way, but all that he had done was to fend off the dozens of soldiers who begged him for something to soothe their insect bites. His supply of salve had been exhausted on the first day. Caffrey had been waiting for a moment alone with Skoyles.

  "Have you managed to see her again, Jamie?" he asked.

  "Who?"

  "A certain young lady you took a fancy to."

  "There are plenty of those to choose from," said Skoyles happily.

  "I was thinking of Miss Elizabeth Rainham."

  "Ah—now she was rather special."

  "Such a pity that she'll end up in Major Featherstone's bed."

  "He wooed her and won her."

  "Given the chance, you could do the same."

  "Too late. She's spoken for, Tom."

  "You've changed your tune, haven't you?" teased Caffrey. "Since when has Jamie Skoyles been frightened off by competition? That woman you knew in Quebec was married, yet you charmed her away from her husband for more than one night. And she wasn't the only conquest of yours who was well and truly spoken for, was she? Last year, there was that lady who—"

  "Miss Rainham is different," said Skoyles, cutting him off.

  "You mean, you'd have to lay siege for much longer?"

  "No, Tom. I mean that she's betrothed to a fellow officer."

  "What better way to get back at Major Featherstone?"

  "Why should I want to do that?"

  "Because you were as sickened by that flogging as I was."

  "Yes," conceded Skoyles, "but that's no reason strike at him through Miss Rainham. While I might have lost some respect for the major that day, I still admire him as soldier. I've seen him in action."

  "Wouldn't you like to see her in action?"

  "Tom!"

  "I'm only going on what you said yourself," argued Caffrey. "When you got back from that ball, you couldn't stop talking about Elizabeth Rainham—even though you went on to spend the night in the arms of another lady altogether. What was she called—Mary?"

  "Maria."

  "There you are. You sleep with one woman but think of another. It was the major's intended who really set your blood racing, wasn't it?"

  "She struck me as an attractive woman, that's all."

  "Especially with her clothes off."

  "I'll never know."

  "But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"

  "Any man in his right mind would like to, Tom."

  "Then go and get her!"

  Skoyles laughed. When they had met in Montreal, he had been quite intrigued by Elizabeth Rainham, and he still felt a pang of regret whenever he recalled the way that she had hurried to greet Major Harry Featherstone so joyfully at the ball. It had been more than a case of simple jealousy. He could see at a glance exactly the kind of married life that awaited her with a man who was much older and seasoned in the kinds of pleasures that would inevitably exclude his wife. Skoyles was very sorry for her. It was apparent that Elizabeth did not really know the man to whom she was betrothed, nor could she guess at the disillusion that lay ahead for her.

  "Well?" Caffrey goaded him. "What's stopping you?"

  "Common sense, Tom."

  "You don't give two hoots for common sense."

  "Miss Rainham wouldn't look at me twice."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because she's made her choice. Leave her to it."

  "If it were anyone but Major Featherstone, I would. We can't sacrifice her to that supercilious turd. She deserves better, Jamie. I think you should do the lady a favor."

  "I will," said Skoyles, "by keeping well clear of her."

  "Coward!"

  "Tom, I hardly know her."

  "That's not the impression I got."

  "I talked to her for a few minutes at the ball and sat opposite her at dinner but that was that. Since then, I haven't spared Elizabeth Rainham a moment's thought."

  "Liar!"

  "Stop calling me names."

  "Then stop provoking me," said Caffrey with a good-humored grin. "At the very least, you might admit that the lady interested you."

  "I confess it freely."

  "Then I'll satisfy your curiosity."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'll ask Polly to see what she can discover," said Caffrey, smacking away a mosquito that tried to land on his chin. "She has a gift for picking up gossip. I know that Polly won't be able to meet this lady on equal terms, but Miss Rainham will be traveling with a maid. She's the person that Polly might get to know."

  Though he made some token protest against it, Skoyles found the offer appealing. Polly Bragg had been with Caffrey for over a year now, and she had proved herself to be loyal and discreet. If nothing else, she could find out more detail about Elizabeth Rainham, and Skoyles was interested in any scrap of information about her. He would certainly not get such information from Featherstone or from any other source.

  "There's no need for Polly to do this," said Skoyles, pretending to be indifferent to the notion. "Leave well alone, Tom."

  "I'm always ready to help a friend."

  "Supposing that he doesn't want to be helped?"

  "Then I'll tell him that he can't fool me," said Caffrey genially. "I know you too well, Jamie. I've seen that light in your eye before, and the only thing that can put it there is a beautiful woman."

  On the first night when his army assembled at Cumberland Point, General Burgoyne elected to sleep aboard his ship. Most people believed that he wanted to stay clear of the mosquito-infested swampland, but there were a few whispers that he might have another reason for wishing to remain afloat. The sound of female laughter was heard from within his cabin. When he came ashore next day to inspect his troops, there was a jaunty optimism about Burgoyne. It gave the soldiers heart.

  At four o'clock on the morning of June 24, the order for general march was beaten on the drums and the men clambered into their bateaux. Two cannon boomed aboard the Maria to signal departure. As the sun was coming up, they rowed away from Cumberland Bay. Wearing brilliant war paint and bright feathers, the Indians led the way in birchbark canoes that held thirty or more, paddling rhythmically and skimming over the placid water with apparent ease. Then came a succession of bateaux, four abreast, containing regulars in scarlet coats with white breeches and waistcoats, as well as light infantry in black leather caps and red waistcoats, grenadiers in their heavy bearskin hats, and Canadians in Indian attire. It was a striking show of military power.

  Behind the massed ranks of troops came the gunboats with their blue-clad artillerymen, their guns glinting proudly on deck. The Royal George and the Inflexible came next, their progress slowed by the massive booms they had in tow. Two dark-hulled frigates, the Maria and the Carleton, took their turn in the procession and, astern of them, was the first British brigade in scarlet coats, faced with yellow, red, or white. Three pinnaces followed, each bearing a general. John Burgoyne was in the central craft, flanked by William Phillips and Lieutenant General Friedrich von Riedesel, Baron Eisenbach, commander of the German contingent, a short and rather portly man in his late thirties.

  Riedesel's troops rowed in serried ranks behind him—infantrymen in dark blue coats, white breeches, and waistcoats, and jägers in green with red cuffs and facings. Officers sported plumed caps, while the grenadiers, in contrast to their British counterparts, wore tall miter caps with shiny metal plates on the front of them that acted as so many mirrors in the sunlight. Even when propelling their bateaux, the Germans somehow
looked supremely controlled, a well-drilled professional force that was watched with interest and wonder by the sutlers and camp followers bringing up the rear.

  It was an awesome sight, an army on the move with disciplined grandeur, its size doubled by its reflection in the shimmering waters of the lake, its potency somehow increased by its splendor. To the east were the looming peaks of the Green Mountains, to the west were the dark and craggy Adirondacks. Gliding between them across the widest part of the lake was a dazzling flotilla of death.

  Gentleman Johnny had a true sense of theater.

  Major Harry Featherstone was not a man who could easily conceal his anger. After making his feelings known to the brigadier, he sought out Jamie Skoyles in his tent.

  "I should have been sent on this mission," Featherstone insisted.

  "Brigadier Fraser made the decision."

  "It was the wrong one."

  "That may be so, Major," said Skoyles, trying to calm him, "but there's no point in berating me about it. I've no power to change the situation. Take the matter up with Brigadier Fraser."

  "I've already done so—to no avail."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "When all is said and done, I'm the senior officer."

  "Of course."

  "But that counted for nothing," said the other irritably. "Listen, Jamie, I know that you have a lot of experience as a scout and I don't want us to fall out over this, but you can appreciate why I'm furious."

  "Yes, Major."

  "This assignment should have been given to me."

  "All I can do is to obey orders, sir."

  Skoyles was delighted that he had been selected for such an important scouting mission, but he could understand why Featherstone was so upset. Hoping to be given the task himself, he had probably boasted of the position to Elizabeth Rainham. Instead of being able to go on a daring expedition, he would now have to cool his heels in the advance camp while someone else had the opportunity to gain kudos. It was galling for the major.

  Ready to depart, Skoyles had shed his uniform and changed into a hunting shirt that would be far less conspicuous than his redcoat. He picked up his Brown Bess musket and checked that it was loaded. Featherstone watched him with muted resentment. When Skoyles tried to walk past him, he blocked his way.