The Seekers (36 page)

“Gentlemen, please,” Gallatin put in. “Once more we have drifted from the question Henry and I came here to discuss. It is no longer a matter of whether a war will be fought, but
how
it will be fought—”

“Why are you so set on this hasty, reckless course?” Rothman roared, pounding the table. “Britain has already shown some small sign of yielding eventually. Rescinding her Orders in Council. Stopping the impressment—”

“Don’t forget Castlereagh is shrewd and slippery,” Gallatin said. “He may be playing for time.”

“I don’t think so,” Gilbert said. “At least not according to what I hear from sources I trust. Visitors who’ve just returned from England. Aboard ships lucky enough not to be chased, stopped or fired upon, I might add!”

“Now you sound like a hawk,” Rothman complained.

“I’m only stating facts, Royal. But like you, I believe we can bring the British ministries around. Convince them to change their policies.
If
we have time.”

“We don’t,” Rothman replied. “And it makes no difference to Mr. Clay anyway. The west is hungry for land—nothing but land. Last year Jemmy Madison grabbed the West Floridas—”

“Annexed,” Clay corrected.

“—and at the moment he’s eyeing the East Floridas. You know who to blame, Gilbert. Your blasted Monticello squire started the fever. Now it’s epidemic!”

Gilbert had no immediate answer. Gallatin said, “Since New England is so important—indeed, we might say paramount—in commerce and finance, I must ask the position of gentlemen such as yourself, Mr. Rothman, in the event hostilities do break out.”

“Are you asking about loans to the government, Mr. Secretary? War loans?”

“I am.”

“You’ll not get a dollar from Rothman’s. I venture every other banking house in New England will say the same thing.”

“And you gentlemen will have a difficult time funding a war without New England money,” Gilbert said.

“We will make do,” Clay said in a flinty way. “We’ve obtained the answer we came for—”

Sounding dispirited, Gallatin said, “Indeed we have.”

“I warned you what it would be, Mr. Secretary.” Clay spat again.

Now that the hard truth had been brought into the open, Rothman attempted to soften it a little. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. New England simply can’t afford a war. We depend on overseas trade for marketing our goods. Jefferson nearly destroyed us with his embargo, and a war would bring complete ruin.”

“That’s sheer imagination—” Clay began.

“That is our position,” Rothman countered, cold again.

“Thank God, it’s not the position of the rest of the country. We
will
make do.”

“You can’t dismiss New England quite so quickly,” Rothman warned.

“Why not, sir? Isn’t she ready to set herself up as an independent nation?”

“Not as yet, sir. But if you and your cohorts persist—”

“I believe we have exhausted this subject, sir.”

“No, we have not!” Rothman shouted. “I fought for these states in the Revolution, but I am not going to see your damned, unwashed mobocracy plunge them into a second, useless war with a people who should be our closest friends!”

“Is that patriotism speaking, sir? Or the balance sheet?”

“You damned poltroon—!”

“Royal, you forget yourself!” Gilbert exclaimed.

“To the contrary! New England is the bedrock of this nation—!”

“No longer!” Clay thundered. “You are living in the past, sir! The west is the rising star!”

And may it sink to hell,
Jared thought, the memory of his father breaking his concentration.

Downstairs, voices rose in a confusion of accusations and epithets until Gilbert cried, “Gentlemen, this is my house, not a tavern! Please act accordingly!”

That elicited another round of halfhearted apologies, and a degree of calm. The subject of war was dropped, in favor of perfunctory conversation about business in general, and Gilbert’s newspaper in particular. Avoiding the question of whether the
Bay State Republican
would support a war, he tried to interest his visitors in some of the innovations he had in mind.

He spoke of his plan to launch a penny paper, undercutting the prevailing six-cent price in order to capture a larger share of the increasingly literate population.

He speculated about the possibility of employing boys to sell papers on the street in an organized way, not haphazardly, and of sending the same boys door to door to boost circulation even further.

When the troubles at sea cleared up, he said, he wanted to purchase a dispatch boat to sail out and meet incoming ships, so he could get the latest European news into print ahead of his competition.

By the time he started to discuss the possibility of modern invention being harnessed to improve printing equipment—“The prospect of a steam-powered press is staggering, gentlemen, and not at all out of the question”—his guests were murmuring that they must leave.

Chairs scraped. The goodbyes were stiffly polite. Jared closed the door of the dumbwaiter and caught his cousin’s hand, hurrying her out of the room.

“They kept talking about war,” Amanda said when they reached the stairs. “Do they mean men fighting other men?”

“Yes, that’s what they mean.”

“Will you have to fight?”

Startled, he realized her question raised an entirely new issue, injected a completely new factor into the uncertain future.

“I don’t know whether I’d have to. But I might want to,” he answered.

At the back of the house, a coach clattered away. In the lower hallway, Royal Rothman was having a final word with his host. Jared heard the banker growl something about the rotten mackerel stinking worse than ever—

He patted Amanda’s rump and started her up to bed. “Tuck yourself in and put out your lamp—”

“Won’t you come do it for me?”

“No.”

“Please—?”

His face oddly drawn, he shook his head.

“You do have a passion for satisfying your curiosity—regardless of the possible consequences.”

He drank, not realizing that his nephew took the remark as an accusation. An unconscious one, perhaps, but an accusation all the same.

“You must forget everything you heard, Jared. Mr. Rothman particularly would be badly compromised if it were known he’d even been in the same room with Henry Clay.”

“I’ll say nothing.”
And I must tell Amanda not to, either.

“The gentlemen are staying the night in Roxbury,” Gilbert went on. “Under false names, of course. They’ll start back to the capital tomorrow—” He sank into a chair and peered at the rum in his goblet. “I’m glad they came. I have a better perspective, meeting one of the leading war hawks in person. I believe war will come. And while Clay’s motives are far from spotless, I believe it should.”

“You do? You didn’t make that clear during the conversation.”

“Royal was already upset. I saw no reason to add to his unhappiness. I’ll tell him my feelings in due course. He suspects them already—”

Another long swallow of rum. “I don’t favor war for the reasons Mr. Clay does. Royal was correct—the hawk faction can only screech ‘Canada! Canada!’ It’s their obsession. Impressment’s a side issue—while to me it’s the central issue. The same sort of issue which drove your grandfather to join all the others who refused to have their liberties abridged forty years ago—”

The eyes of both were drawn to the portrait of Philip. After a moment, Gilbert set his drink aside.

“But we have a different issue to discuss.”

Tense, Jared murmured, “Yes, sir.”

“I know you’re not happy in this house. There’s no need to dwell on why—”

“I
must
get away, Uncle Gilbert. I’ve no patience with school any more—”

“Oh, I think you’ve already had quite enough to carry you through life. The trouble is, I don’t know what you
do
want. Where you hope to go, in the broadest sense of those words. Is it an apprenticeship you’re after? I can offer you that at Kent and Son.”

“But I’d have to stay on here, and I feel I shouldn’t.” Jared leaned forward. “Please understand—it has nothing to do with you.”

“I understand.” Gilbert covered his mouth briefly, coughed.

“I’ll be less of a burden if I’m gone.”

“You’re no burden, Jared.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but I know otherwise.”

“I’ve never particularly pressed you about joining the firm—”

“I appreciate that.”

“From the time you were very small, I somehow felt commerce wouldn’t interest you. I think you’ve inherited more than a touch of your mother’s restlessness.”

Jared tried to smile. “That Virginia blood you talk about?”

“This country is being created out of such restlessness. Created, expanded—it’s not a bad thing.”

“I’ve no desire to go into the west the way my father did,” Jared said, his voice harder. “It’s a brutal place. It killed him.”

“Well—in part.”

Gilbert didn’t amplify the remark. He looked at his nephew with disarming friendliness.

“I know it would be wrong to urge you to stay and work at the firm. You can’t abide your aunt—no, don’t say anything. Don’t pretend. That’s a truth neither of us should hide from—though it’s not necessary to delve into the reasons. As you well know, Harriet doesn’t harbor warm feelings for you either. Regrettably, there’s blame on both sides.”

Jared nodded slowly. “I—I just want out.”

“I’m willing—if we can find something suitable for you to do. You look surprised.”

“I didn’t think you’d agree to my going.”

“I want to spare you
and
your aunt further quarrels you both might regret for the rest of your lives. I’ve let my temper carry me away a few times in the past—the night your father left, for one—and I’ve cursed myself ever since.”

“You’ve hinted about that quarrel, but never described it. Was it—?”

“Bitter,” Gilbert interrupted. “Bitter, hateful, viol—oh, but that’s the past.” He faced away. “It’s enough to say that, ever since, my conscience has driven me to launch a search for your father at least once a year. Never with any success, alas.”

He paused. “I’m wondering, though”—the library lamps put pinpricks of light into his dark pupils—“suddenly I’m wondering whether the answer to your dilemma might not be a leaf from your father’s book.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I think I’ve mentioned that your father went through a period of conflict with his father and mine—” He gestured to the portrait. “As a temporary solution, your father chose the military service.”

Jared turned cold at the implications of that. His negative reaction didn’t come from cowardice as much as from his basic doubt about his own ability to survive in inherently difficult circumstances. But he kept silent, letting Gilbert continue.

“I wouldn’t want to see you in the army. As you overheard, it’s hardly worthy of the name. Its highest commanders are dodderers, incompetents or both. But the navy, now—that’s another matter. Though small, the navy’s acquitted itself splendidly over the past ten years. From all I’ve heard, the officers by and large are first-rate—a match for any British captain afloat. And the half dozen frigates under sail must constantly replenish their crews as enlistments run out—”

“How old do you have to be to join?”

“For powder monkeys or cabin duty, they take boys from eight on up. You might have a chance at something better. A midshipman’s appointment. I could perhaps direct a letter to the Secretary of the Navy—yes,” Gilbert said with growing animation, “navy duty could be the answer. It would certainly suit the family tradition I’ve tried to keep alive.”

“What tradition, sir?”

Gilbert didn’t give a direct answer to the question. He walked to the portrait of Philip, gazed at it a moment, then said quietly, “It’s a pity you never knew him, Jared. A remarkable man. I loved him without reservation. When I was growing up, I was sickly—a disappointment to him, I’m sure. Yet he was unfailingly kind. The older I grew, the more I came to respect his convictions. I don’t mean his conservative politics—most men become more conservative as they reach middle age. I’m talking about something deeper and much more fundamental. He used to say this country gave him hope when he had none. It gave him love when he had none—gave it twice over. Your grandmother Anne, and my mother. He said he always felt it was his duty to repay those debts—”

Jared looked at the strong face on the canvas. “I remember your telling me how brave he was.”

“Brave in the most meaningful way. I’m sure he felt fear just as all normal men do—but in spite of that, he chose to fight for liberty when it would have been easier and more comfortable to remain a Tory. Beyond that, he pulled himself up in the world from nothing, and built a business. To make money, to be sure—but also because he believed the printing trade is of inestimable benefit to mankind. ‘Take a stand and make a mark.’ That was the sum of his life and his belief. He said those words to me shortly before he died. I’ve never forgotten them. I hope you won’t either. That’s why I had them inscribed on the fob I gave you last Christmas. In the navy, I think you could find the kind of fresh horizons you always seem to be hunting. Yet at the same time, you’d be giving as well as taking. Just as your grandfather did. Just as I try to do in my limited way. That’s what I mean when I speak of carrying on the tradition he established.”

In the ensuing silence, both gazed at the painting again. Then Gilbert became brisk, businesslike. “Unless you say otherwise, tomorrow I’ll draft a letter to Washington. I’ll make inquiries as to the whereabouts of our frigates. And, if possible, learn whether one might be berthing in Boston soon.”

Despite his earlier apprehension, Jared found himself warming to Gilbert’s suggestion. Perhaps it was exactly what he needed: to test himself in hard circumstances. Perhaps that way, he could prove Harriet wrong—

Yet fear remained. What if he did say yes—only to fail?

He wouldn’t! He swore that silently, fervently—

The idea of naval service wasn’t all that ominous if he stopped to think about it. There were aspects that excited him. Small as it was, the navy had a certain dash. He vividly recalled the previous April when the city’s own frigate,
Constitution,
Captain Hull commanding, had put in briefly to fill out her crew roster. The town had taken on a festive air—and rocked with laughter at the story of a green farm boy who had apparently swallowed too much of the recruiting officer’s rum. The country boy. signed on believing he was to be the captain’s gardener.