Saratoga Page 6

  "You know my opinion," said Wilkinson. "I think that we should fall back to Fort George. It will be much easier to defend."

  St. Clair was appalled. "Abandon this place without a fight?"

  "We could never hope to win, General."

  "That's not the point, Colonel. If we ran away from battles we never expect to win, then our cause would have been lost at the start. Besides, we can't be absolutely certain that Burgoyne's army will attack."

  "Why else have they come?"

  "To deceive us by making a feint."

  "That's highly unlikely."

  "General Burgoyne is a man who usually has a trick up his sleeve."

  "With an army of that size, he doesn't need to rely on tricks."

  James Wilkinson, the fort's adjutant, was an alert, intelligent, zealous officer of twenty-one. Inclined to be opinionated and overeager, he had not endeared himself to all of his colleagues, but St. Clair valued his comments. In suggesting evacuation of Ticonderoga, the bumptious adjutant was advocating a course of action that his superior would once have believed unthinkable. Even now, it had little appeal to St. Clair. He turned to the other person in the room, a tall, rangy, round-shouldered man in his thirties with a lean, pockmarked face and long, straggly brown hair. Seated in a corner, Ezekiel Proudfoot had a board across his knee and a piece of charcoal in his hand.

  "What do you think, Ezekiel?" asked St. Clair.

  "We must always bear in mind the fort's prestige," replied the artist. "It's a potent symbol. To surrender it would be quite shameful."

  "Not if the decision were made on practical grounds," Wilkinson argued. "We have some idea of the size of the British forces and we can be sure that their artillery will be formidable. How can we defend the indefensible? Our ammunition is limited. Our men are ill disciplined and poorly armed. Think how they'll behave under heavy fire."

  "They'll fight like Americans," said St. Clair bravely, "or I'll know the reason why. We've been outnumbered before, Colonel."

  "Yes," Proudfoot added. "Our victory at Trenton was against a larger force than our own. The general and I were there."

  "That may be," said Wilkinson, "but, on that occasion, you had the advantage of surprise. That doesn't obtain here. We can't cut and run this time. The fort is a trap. It's only a question of time before they pound us into submission or starve us out."

  "Not necessarily."

  "There's no hope of relief. General Schuyler made that clear."

  "He also made it clear that Ticonderoga must not fall."

  "That was before he knew details of Burgoyne's advance."

  "It's our duty to fight, Colonel," said Proudfoot.

  "Even if it results in the loss of the fort and the entire garrison?" asked Wilkinson. "Congress wouldn't thank us for that."

  "I've a feeling that they'd admire us nevertheless."

  "No, Ezekiel. With respect, you don't think like a soldier."

  "I do," attested St. Clair.

  "Sacrifice everything here and we leave the country defenseless."

  "I prefer to take a more optimistic view," asserted St. Clair, putting his tricorn hat on at a rakish angle. "Hold out against the British and we strike a major blow for freedom. That's what we must do." He opened the door. "I'm going to visit the hospital to see if any of the patients are able to hold a weapon. We need every man we can muster."

  "A complete waste of time," said Wilkinson under his breath.

  "Keep that drawing board handy, Ezekiel," St. Clair advised. "You may have some real action to record very soon."

  "Thank you for the warning, General," said the artist, with a lazy smile. "That's exactly what I was hoping to hear, sir."

  "Have you ever sketched a disaster before?" asked Wilkinson.

  "No, sir. I was too busy running away from it."

  "Then have the sense to do the same thing now."

  "Not when we have a chance of a famous victory," said Proudfoot with sudden passion. "I side with the general here. Ticonderoga is the gateway to New England. We must defend it tooth and nail to keep the British at bay. While you fight with muskets, my only weapon is a stick of charcoal but—long after the echo of gunfire has died—my sketches of what happened here will have the power to bring more and more soldiers to the American flag. Give me some heroism to immortalize," he pleaded. "Repel the British and strike a major blow for freedom."

  There were four of them in the general's tent. Having arrived at Crown Point that morning, Burgoyne was anxious to hear the latest intelligence. Brigadier Fraser introduced him to James McIntosh and gave him an abbreviated account of the information supplied by the Scot. It served to bring a real glint to Burgoyne's eye. Next to speak was Jamie Skoyles, back in uniform, on hand to explain what had happened on the scouting expedition. He felt obliged to offer his counsel.

  "We mustn't rely too much on the Indians, sir," he warned.

  "But they're the eyes and ears of the army," Burgoyne insisted. "All that we have to do is to keep them in check."

  "That will be impossible in the heat of battle. They just follow their own murderous instincts. We saw an example of that yesterday."

  "They had provocation, Captain. Their companion was shot dead."

  "They were under orders to take prisoners, General, not to kill and mutilate an enemy like that."

  "It was a grisly sight," said McIntosh, wincing. "Scalping is one thing, but they would've hacked him to pieces if Captain Skoyles hadn't intervened. Indians are a law unto themselves."

  "Not when they're under my command," affirmed Burgoyne, thrusting out his chin. "I won't stand for disobedience. They know that." When he turned to Skoyles, there was amusement in his voice. "It seems as if you've altered your stance, Captain. If memory serves me aright, you once stood up for the Indians. Is that correct, Simon?"

  "Yes," replied Fraser, "but it was a very long time ago."

  "These things stick in the mind. I heard it from Jeffrey Amherst's own lips. He regaled us with the story at Brooks's one evening. At the time, he didn't know whether to laugh or explode with anger."

  Skoyles was astonished to learn that his moment of youthful boldness had actually been discussed in one of the leading London clubs. All that he could recall of the event was that he had been given a stern reprimand and sent on his way.

  McIntosh was curious. "What exactly happened, General?"

  "Skoyles can tell you."

  "Must I, sir?" asked Skoyles. "I was very young at the time."

  "Yet with sufficient daring to confront your own commander."

  "Not everyone agreed with General Amherst's actions," said Fraser, trying to spare Skoyles the embarrassment of telling the story himself, "but few people would have done what Jamie did. When he heard that the general had given smallpox-infected blankets to the Seneca, he was so upset that he complained to him in person."

  "I'm a doctor's son," said Skoyles. "I thought that inflicting such a dreadful disease on anyone was wrong. I told General Amherst that it was an immoral way to wage war."

  McIntosh was amazed. "You told him that?"

  "Words to that effect, anyway."

  "Then you're a braver man than I am, Captain."

  "I stand by what I said."

  "Even though the men were vicious savages?"

  "I've seen people die of smallpox," said Skoyles. "Lots of them. I'd not wish that kind of death on anyone. It's hideous."

  "War is war," Burgoyne announced seriously. "When faced with atrocities, we sometimes have to resort to extreme measures. It may be regrettable, but our hand is forced." He smiled at Skoyles. "I'm pleased that, after his brush with General Amherst, one audacious young soldier learned the importance of abiding by the decisions of his superiors."

  "I did, sir," Skoyles admitted.

  "Jamie's point is still valid," Fraser reminded them. "We have to keep the Indians on a tight rein. They're far too unpredictable. That's why he's volunteered to go to Ticonderoga on his own."

  "Is
that wise?" asked Burgoyne. "You'd be taking a big risk."

  "I don't think so, General," said Skoyles. "Now that the horses have arrived, I can move much faster. Mr. McIntosh has kindly offered to act as my guide. I can carry out the reconnaissance that I'd hoped to complete yesterday. "

  "You'll find that everything I told you is accurate," said McIntosh.

  "There are some things that you didn't tell us."

  Burgoyne hesitated. "Are you happy about this, Simon?"

  "Yes, sir," Fraser replied, confidently. "Jamie is very experienced in this kind of work. I have complete faith in him."

  "For what it's worth," said McIntosh, "so do I."

  "In that case," Burgoyne decided, "the pair of you can get on your way. Oh, one moment," he added before the two men could move. "You might find this useful, Skoyles." He searched in a bag and extracted a small telescope. "Be sure to bring it back to me, mind. It has great sentimental value. It was a present from General Amherst." He held it out. "And it's not infected with any disease, I promise you."

  "Thank you, sir," said Skoyles.

  Taking the telescope, he led the way out and headed for his tent. McIntosh went off to get the horses so that Skoyles could change out of his uniform. Before he reached his tent, however, Skoyles was waylaid by Major Harry Featherstone.

  "I hear that your scouting trip was a failure," he remarked.

  "We were ambushed in the woods," said Skoyles.

  "One man against four of you? Pretty good odds, I'd say."

  "Not when the man is concealed in the undergrowth with a Kentucky rifle. It's much more accurate than our muskets. Besides, he paid with his life."

  "With his life, his balls, and his American prick," said Featherstone, laughing harshly. "Serves him right in my view. The mistake you made was to cut the bastard down. He was an enemy soldier. I'd have left him dangling there as a warning to others."

  "Enemy or not," asserted Skoyles, "I believe that a dead man should be treated with some respect—not mutilated for sport. Instead of warning others, a dangling corpse would only have incited more rebels to fight against us."

  "All the more of them for us to kill!"

  "There'll be no shortage of targets for us to aim at, Major. When I get back from Ticonderoga, I'll bring details of the garrison. General Burgoyne is sending me there on my own this time."

  Featherstone was incensed. "I've been passed over again?"

  "Don't take it personally, Major."

  "But it's an insult to me."

  "Only if you choose to take it as such."

  "How else am I to take it, man?" the other demanded. "I'm ideally suited for this work, and the opportunity has been denied me because you managed to curry favor with Gentleman Johnny."

  "I resent that, sir," said Skoyles, squaring his shoulders. "The one thing that I'll not be accused of is using flattery to achieve my ends. I must ask you to take that back."

  Harry Featherstone glared at him for a second, then regained his composure. Emitting a brittle laugh, he patted Skoyles on the arm.

  "I take it back at once, Jamie," he said smoothly. "Banish the words from your memory. You wouldn't know what flattery was. The reason you were selected is that you are considered the better man and I must live with that judgment."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Good fortune go with you!"

  Featherstone's smile did not reach his eyes.

  Taking part in a military campaign was not at all as Elizabeth Rainham had envisaged it. Though there had been no action yet, she was finding the experience tedious and uncomfortable. Outbursts of torrential rain had hindered their progress, followed by days of muggy heat that made her itch and perspire. Dinner was the only pleasant occasion of the day, taken, more often than not, with General Burgoyne and his senior officers, and involving some heavy drinking on the part of the men. There was a mood of gaiety that struck Elizabeth as strangely out of step with a major military undertaking.

  Only two other women usually joined her at table. One of them was Friederika von Riedesel, wife of the German commander, a short, slim woman with an elfin beauty that was quite luminous. Elizabeth admired her bravery in traveling with her three young daughters into what would soon be hostile territory. Neither Friederika nor her husband spoke any English, but Elizabeth knew enough French to communicate with both of them. She was surprised to learn that their marriage had been arranged, when it was patent that it was a true love match.

  The presence of the other woman at the table was more puzzling to Elizabeth at first. She could not understand why Lucinda Mallard, the wife of a lowly commissary officer, was given the privilege of dining with the general. It took time for the truth to emerge, for she had always known John Burgoyne as a respectable and trusted family friend. When she realized that he had taken another man's wife as his mistress, she was deeply shocked, all the more so because the general behaved as if there were nothing untoward in such an arrangement. Elizabeth was confused. General Riedesel and his wife were a perfect example of a happy marriage. Burgoyne and Lucinda Mallard represented a very different side of army life.

  She was still disturbed by it all as she wandered through the camp in search of her maid. Nan was talking to another woman when Elizabeth approached, and she immediately broke off the conversation to come across to her mistress.

  "Who was that?" asked Elizabeth.

  "Oh, that was Polly Bragg," Nan replied, cheerfully. "She's such a pleasant woman. I could talk to her for hours."

  "Could you?"

  "Yes, she's been with the 24th Foot for a year now. Polly knows everybody, ma'am. She was telling me about Captain Skoyles."

  "Indeed?"

  Elizabeth's interest was immediately aroused. Even though she had not seen him since they met in Montreal, she was still curious about him. Nan Wyatt knew her well enough to sense that curiosity. Plump, amiable, and rosy-cheeked, Nan was a bustling woman in her forties, with an effervescence of someone half her age and a readiness to meet any challenge without a whisper of protest. During the worst days of their horrendous Atlantic crossing, Nan had been a great support to Elizabeth and was more like a second mother than a maid.

  "Why is Polly Bragg traveling with us?" Elizabeth wondered.

  "For the same reason as you—she wishes to be with her man."

  "Is her husband in Major Featherstone's regiment?"

  "He's in the regiment," said Nan, "but he's not her husband. Not yet, anyway, but Polly hopes that he will be one day." She saw the slight blush in Elizabeth's cheeks and gave a tolerant smile. "It's not the sort of thing that would be allowed in Canterbury, ma'am, but it obviously works. Polly is able to help him."

  "Who?"

  "Her man—Sergeant Tom Caffrey. He's an assistant surgeon. Polly acts as a nurse. She's seen the most gruesome sights in battle. Some of her tales made my stomach turn, yet she takes it all in her stride. It was Polly who tended Private Higgs."

  "Private Higgs?"

  "The man who was flogged for being drunk on duty," said Nan. "I'm surprised that Major Featherstone didn't tell you about it, ma'am."

  "Why should he?"

  "Because he was the person who caught the man and ordered his punishment. Sixty lashes, apparently." Elizabeth blanched. "Polly says that there was hardly any skin left on his back when they finished. She and Sergeant Caffrey nursed him through it."

  "Very commendable of her," said Elizabeth, keen to get off the subject of the flogging. "But you mentioned Captain Skoyles."

  "Did you know that he went on a dangerous scouting expedition?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "It was yesterday, ma'am. It turns out that Sergeant Caffrey is a particular friend of Captain Skoyles. That's how Polly got to hear of it."

  "What happened, Nan?"

  The maid needed no more encouragement. Taking a deep breath, she launched into her narrative, recalling as much as she could of what Polly Bragg had told her and introducing a few dramatic flourishes of her own. Elizabeth
listened with growing concern, fearing for Skoyles's safety until she was assured that he had returned to Crown Point. One thing perplexed her.

  "Major Featherstone told me that he was likely to lead a scouting expedition to Fort Ticonderoga," she recalled.

  "Captain Skoyles was chosen before him, ma'am."

  "Oh, I see."

  "He has a reputation for this kind of work."

  "He obviously brought some decency to bear on a disgusting situation. I know that they're supposed to be on our side, but what those Indians did to their prisoner was barbaric. It was almost inhuman."

  "That's why he didn't want them with him today," said Nan.

  "Who?"

  "Captain Skoyles, of course. He told Sergeant Caffrey that he was hoping to go to Ticonderoga on his own."

  "On his own?" Elizabeth was alarmed.

  "Don't fret about it, ma'am," said Nan, squeezing her arm. "Polly told me that the captain is very resourceful. He's well able to look after himself."

  The journey to Ticonderoga was slow. Jamie Skoyles's real problem was to stop his loquacious companion from talking too much and thereby distracting him. He wanted to remain alert to any potential dangers. On the other hand, he was very grateful for McIntosh's help in finding a way on horseback through the thick woodland. Skoyles was wearing his hunting shirt and a pair of buckskin breeches again, enabling him to blend into his surroundings. Tucked away in his saddlebag was the telescope entrusted to him by General Burgoyne.

  "I doubt that there'll be many pickets out," McIntosh decided. "If I were General St. Clair, I'd have every last man behind the walls of the fort or in one of the redoubts. He must know that the army is coming."

  "What manner of man is he?"

  "A veteran soldier. He fought at Louisburg and Quebec—just like you and me, Captain. St. Clair was in the 60th Foot."

  "The Royal American Regiment," noted Skoyles.

  "Times have changed. He'll have no truck with King George now."

  "What about you, Mr. McIntosh?"

  "Oh, I've no quarrel with His Majesty," said the other, easily, "but, then again, I don't condemn the patriots. They have good reason to fight. This is one war that I'd prefer to keep out of, that's all."