The Schoolmaster's Daughter (29 page)

Word soon passed down the ravine that they would attack at sunset. The men gathered in small groups. There were cooking fires, the smell of meat roasting on a spit. Some slept, while others preoccupied themselves with betting on caterpillar races in the sand. The heat built through the afternoon, and by early evening the lengthening shadows in the ravine were welcome.

Ezra shared some salt pork with Benjamin and Lumley. “You appear less distracted now.”

Lumley had been working at his flask of rum since shooting the soldier. “I have much considered my actions, but drawing the blood of one of my own—strange, isn't it?—this I did not foresee.” He attempted a smile, revealing stained, crooked teeth. “What I truly desire is to live this soldier's life no more, but it is not time yet.”

“What do you desire, then?” Benjamin asked.

“Land—it's all you provincials have to offer,” Lumley said. “Land has been promised. I want to farm. Maybe even have a few sheep, eh?”

“You shall, one day when this is finished,” Ezra said. “I hear there is good soil in New Hampshire and Vermont.”

“Do you wish to farm?” Lumley asked him.

“I have considered it,” Ezra said. “What is the future but a dream?”

Lumley nodded. “To good Vermont soil then.” He took another pull from his flask.

“A mite far inland for me,” Benjamin said.

“When the port is reopened, you will go to sea?” Ezra asked.

“I have considered it.” Benjamin smiled. “But there's ample cod and shellfish right here in the harbor. That would be my harvest. You would go to Vermont, Ezra, rather than remain in Concord?”

Ezra appeared reluctant to answer, but finally said, “It is getting crowded in Concord.” To Lumley, he added, “My mother has removed there from Boston, to be with relatives.”

Benjamin said, “I look to the day when there is not one redcoat in Boston.” When both Ezra and Lumley regarded him with skepticism, he asked “You do not think this can be?”

Lumley regarded him a moment. “He has much youthful hope.”

“Aye,” Ezra said.

“It be no different,” Lumley said, “this soldiering on the one side or the other. Before battle, we would talk of the time when we will soldier no more.” There was some humor in Lumley's eyes. “And, of course, women.”

Benjamin flushed at the reference.

“You have a girl?” Lumley did not wait for a reply. “Most certainly you do. And does she not treat you well? Does she pull you to her in hot desperation?”

Benjamin turned to Ezra, who also seemed embarrassed, though curious.

“What is her name?” Lumley coaxed.

Benjamin felt his face heat up. “Mariah.”

“Ah. Mariah.” Lumley took another pull. He planted the flask in the sand, an offering the other two had yet to accept. “Would I have a lass named Mariah, I'd think on the lightness of her long tresses, the way it sweeps across my face, gently swinging as she rises and falls on top of me.” His look was of genuine curiosity. “She does come down on top of you? Some women much prefer this, though there is too the way of animals—hands and knees, down on all fours, this serves to good purpose,” he said with delight, reveling in watching Benjamin squirm with embarassment. “It gives your haunch the freedom of full thrust, no? So powerful it seems like you are both about to burst upon each other.” He leaned close, and Benjamin could smell the reek of whiskey. “Do you not think on how she cries out when she reaches her due?” Laughing, he sat back. “But you are young! You will hear many a maiden's song, Benjamin, and you will find that each bears her own sweet tune. No two songs alike.” And then turning, he said, “That right, Ezra?”

As he unfolded his legs, Ezra said, “I do not speak of these matters.” He got to his feet and walked off a ways, to a small bush where he unlaced his trousers. They were silent, listening to his water drive into the sand.

“Must be descended from these strict Puritans,” Lumley said. “Though I understand that despite their righteous ways, they are wont to procreate a multitude.”

Finished, Ezra climbed up the slope of the ravine, lay down, and peered over the lip toward the tidal creek.

Lumley whispered conspiratorially, “I fear I have insulted him, Benjamin. It is because he has something to conceal, no?”

Benjamin said, “Maybe this is so.”

It seemed Lumley had caught a scent in the air now, and he looked from Benjamin to Ezra as though to identify its nature and source. “Whores?” he said, as though he had come to a great insight. “I know something of your Boston whores—is that what keeps Ezra so silent?'

Slowly, Benjamin said, “I don't think so.”

But Lumley wasn't listening. Flask in hand, poised to take another drink, he said, “True, they take your coin, but what they cede in return—now there's something to think on before a battle. A whore's fine mouth and obliging tongue—”

A small stone struck him on the neck.

“Enough,” Ezra said, weighing a larger rock in his palm. “Enough of your blather.”

“Before we go into battle, we can—” Lumley began, but he stopped when Benjamin got to his feet. He took another pull on his flask and would not look up.

“Ezra's right. Speaking of this does not help.”

Lumley continued to study them both with satisfaction, as though he had made some great discovery that he could use to his own purpose. “You two are thick,” he said. And then he lay back in the sand. “Thick.”

Joshua's smack was piled with nets, so that if they were stopped by a patrol boat they would give the impression of tending to a weir. At sunset, the wind fell off as it turned southerly and warm, but they made good speed on the outbound tide. As the sky darkened, the burning hayfields cast a flickering scarlet glow on the chop. The sound of gunfire from Noddle's Island was constant, but standing on the deck of Joshua's boat, Abigail could not determine how the Americans fared. She could see other boats making boldly for the islands, and there was no sight of British patrols on the water. This alone, Bostonian vessels once again abroad on the harbor, seemed a great victory.

Upon reaching Pettick's Island, Joshua coasted around to the leeward side, and when they neared the shore, Mariah, standing in the bow, suddenly moved with great agility. She removed her petticoat and skirt and stowed them in a locker. “Skirts were not made for boats,” she said. “Since my childhood, Father allowed me to work on the water in my pantaloons.”

Without hesitation, Abigail unfastened her skirt.

“Is that not a welcome relief?” Mariah asked.

“It is indeed.”

They both laughed while, at the tiller, old Joshua rolled his eyes and sighed an oath.

He steered dangerously close to the beach—clearly he knew these depths—and then came up into the wind and eased the mainsheet. Mariah and Abigail slipped over the gunwale, yelping as they entered the cold water that was waist-deep. They waded ashore and climbed a dune, from which they could see across the small island, faintly illuminated by the distant fires on Noddle's Island. Everywhere in the darkness was the tremulous puling of sheep as men and women herded them toward the beach.

Mariah broke into a sprint, moving in a wide arc, and Abigail lost sight of her, until she suddenly reappeared, a good dozen sheep thundering before her in a panic. When they reached the dune, some lambs tumbled down its face to the beach, and Mariah let out a scream of delight. Then Abigail joined in the chase, her legs, shed of the weight and inhibition of skirts, carrying her swiftly over the sand.

On Noddle's Island, the exchange of gunfire extended through the night. The British set off their carronades from the decks of the schooner, and the Americans returned the favor with small cannon brought from the mainland. Old Put's voice could be heard bellowing constantly, telling the men to keep up their barrage. Dr. Warren walked along the ravine, encouraging the men. Such was his reputation that when he drew near a group of men, they often paused to doff their hats and address him respectfully. It was difficult to see in the dark. Still, from the left, British soldiers maintained a regular fire. Yet, because they were hunkered down in the ravine, not one provincial was felled.

By first light, they could see that the schooner was nearly abandoned, despite the fact that she was again afloat on the high tide. Only a few men remained to provide cover while the rest of her crew made their way down the inlet to the harbor, where they were taken aboard a British sloop and several longboats. Old Put shouted for a ceasefire. Dr. Warren came down the ravine again, saying that about a dozen volunteers were needed to storm the schooner. Most of the men spoke up, crowding about the doctor. He demanded that they quiet themselves and then began to make his selection.

When he picked Ezra, Benjamin stepped forward, “Doctor, I wish to accompany him.”

“You are my runner, Benjamin.” Dr. Warren seemed both perplexed and amused. “I cannot bear to forfeit your speed.”

“Sir, I will be first to the ship.”

“That I do not doubt,” Dr. Warren said. He turned away and considered other men, pausing in front of Lumley, who was clearly overtaken with drink. “We should send you first,” he said. “Your brethren would concentrate their lead on thee.”

The men laughed.

“I offer my services, sir,” Lumley said. “I will be your decoy.”

Dr. Warren leaned toward him and inhaled, and then waved a hand before his nose. “I think not today, Mr. Lumley. When we require a sacrificial lamb, he must not volunteer under any potent influences. But I thank you.”

“Then I will go,” Benjamin said.

Disappointed, Dr. Warren again regarded him with cold blue eyes. “To what purpose?”

“To see to Ezra's safety,” Benjamin said. This brought laughter from the men: Ezra was not only older but taller and stronger than Benjamin. Flustered, Benjamin blurted out, “I have promised.”

The men quieted and Dr. Warren appeared curious. “Promised what? To whom?”

“To protect him,” Benjamin said. Laughter, again. “For his beloved.”

This brought a gasp of surprise. One man called out, “That be his beautiful sister, the schoolmaster's daughter. Doctor, you must not deny the lad such an obligation.”

Dr. Warren put his fists on his hips and looked about at the men.

“This is …” Ezra said, ill at ease. “This is unjustified.”

He was about to press further, but Dr. Warren raised a hand. “Loyalty,” he said. “Is that what we're fighting for?” He gazed around at the men. “Right, then,” the doctor said to Benjamin. “You take Ezra with you on this mission. He is your responsibility. You look after him as though he were your own brother.”

“I will,” Benjamin said. “I will, Doctor.”

Ezra appeared furious.

There were a dozen men chosen. As they readied their arms, General Putnam selected Isaac Baldwin to lead them. They gathered at the lip of the ravine and upon Baldwin's signal began the descent down to the tidal creek. It was perhaps a hundred yards across salt hay that mostly lay flat. Benjamin ran between Baldwin and Ezra. There was much shouting and whooping, while a fife urged them on from the ravine. The percussive thud of cannon rolled in from the British sloop standing off Noddle's Island. The balls whistled through the smoky air, one burrowing into the mud not ten yards before Benjamin. From the schooner several gunshots were fired, but as the men reached the marsh flats the last of the British were seen rowing away from the vessel, hastily pulling downstream for open water.

The provincials waded into the inlet. Benjamin swam the last twenty yards, holding his pistol in the air above his head. He followed Baldwin up over the taffrail of the schooner's stern. The deck was in great disarray with the lines from the spars and masts that had been severed by the American barrage. When all the men were on board, they let out a cheer, despite the fact that British cannons were still being fired from the distant sloop. They set to work quickly. Swivel guns were dismounted. Powder kegs and provisions were sent ashore. In an hour, the schooner was stripped of ammunition and weaponry.

Benjamin discovered a cutlass in the officers' quarters and he strapped it about his waist. Ezra and several others found jugs of kerosene, which they splashed over the deck. Baldwin ordered the men ashore, and then remained behind to set the fire. As he swam away, the flames consumed the deck and raced up the masts as though driven by a gust of wind. The British bombardment continued from the harbor, but Benjamin stood with the others on the mudflats, soaking wet, mesmerized by the pressing heat that came off the burning vessel. Behind them, a series of huzzahs swelled from the ravine.

For several days, it seemed that Bostonians had reclaimed their harbor. The British continued a fitful engagement with the provincials on Noddle's Island, but they dared not send out their usual fleet of patrol boats. Increasing numbers of fishing smacks ventured out to the islands to assist in removing the livestock. Abigail, Mariah, and Joshua spent long, exhausting days herding and ferrying sheep. Entire families had sailed out to assist and there was an air of festivity, the sound of children's laughter as they chased sheep about the pastures. The days were hot and humid, the evenings warm, the air gentle and still. Abigail and Mariah slept on the deck of Joshua's smack one night, in the dunes another. Their unbound hair became encrusted with salt, their faces taut from the sun. They went about the islands barefoot, the soles of their feet toughened from running in the sand, their pantaloons torn on brambles. Joshua calculated that several thousand sheep were removed to the mainland, out of reach of the British. Animals that could not be taken off the islands were slaughtered. At night there were great feasts, song, and dancing about bonfires.

The British finally quit Noddle's Island and quietly retreated to Boston. The last night of May, Joshua said they also must return to the city and they set out in the evening. He cruised by Noddle's Island, where they could see the carcass of the schooner, burned to the waterline in the tidal creek. Everything on the island had been destroyed. The hayfields were blackened, and the house and barn, owned by a man named Williams, were in charred ruins. As the smack ran close to shore, groups of men came down to the beach, calling out and beckoning to Abigail and Mariah.