The Time Pirate (40 page)

“I've a great deal left to do before my dear husband's arrival,
Nicholas, so I shall leave you in peace and go about my preparations.”

“Thank you for all you've done, ma'am.”

She nodded, crossed the room to the door, paused, and looked back at him. “Nicholas?”

“Yes, ma'am?”

“I've a special place in my heart for children that have been sorely tested by the almighty. It's good to have a child under this old roof again. I had four children of my own. I lost three of them when they were very young. Only my son, Jacky, survived. He's a grown man now and married. It's a terrible, terrible thing when a mother loses a child, her children, you must understand that.”

“I'm sorry for what you've suffered, Mrs. Washington.”

“I trust you, Nicholas McIver. You seem a good boy, with a keen mind and a brave spirit. I shall introduce you to my husband tomorrow when I find it suits him. Tell him what you will, share your secrets. But I shall tell you one thing, and you should think well upon it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Don't ever betray my trust.”

She closed the door before he could reply, and he was left alone with his thoughts.

N
ext morning Nick was up bright and early, his whole being tingling with excitement. Beyond his upstairs window, the sun shone benevolently in a cloudless sky, scattering gold coins on the river. He was surprised to find his white breeches, stockings, and tunic all cleaned, neatly pressed, and folded on the chair beside his bed. His scarlet British Army coat had somehow disappeared, which was probably all to the good. Redcoats, be they human or uniform, weren't exactly welcome in the great General Washington's home. And, Nick knew, the famous man was returning to Mount Vernon this very day.

He removed his linen nightshirt (borrowed by Lucy along with other clothes from the Washingtons' now-grown son, Jacky) and dressed quickly. The house seemed full of noise and excitement. Perhaps the General had already arrived. There was certainly a great hubbub below stairs. The merry sound of laughter and excited chatter rising up the staircase from the ground floor was contagious—he heard Lucy's distinctive high-pitched laughter just outside his door.

He cracked his door and saw her racing up the main staircase. Reaching the landing, she went immediately to a
window on the far side of the house. She flung open the sash, leaned dangerously far out, and shouted down to the crowd of house servants and field hands below, “He's coming! General is on his way!”

A great hurrah came from unseen crowd gathered below, and Nick saw countless straw field hats hurled up into the air, watched them rise and fall hypnotically in the blue beyond the window.

“The General has arrived?” he asked Lucy, beginning to feel the thrill of the approaching moment himself.

She turned and smiled at him, her dark eyes flashing with excitement. “Not just yet. But, he'll be here shortly, I reckon. He sent a courier ahead to tell Miz Washington how nearby he was. Why, Miz Washington's so juned up this mawnin', lady can't hardly contain herself! I'm going upstairs to watch it all, if ‘n you want to come with me.”

“I surely do, Lucy. Can we see everything from up there?”

“It's my secret lookout. Ain't a real secret, but I call it mine just because. You can see the whole world from up there. Follow me and don't make any noise.”

Lucy raced up the stairway on tiptoe to the topmost floor of the house. It was more like an attic with dormer windows. They arrived in a large room with bare wooden floors and four doors, two on either side of the room, guest rooms most likely. But what caught Nick's attention was the sturdy white wooden ladder in the center of the room, bathed in light streaming down from above.

He followed Lucy up the ladder. As he'd guessed, it led up to the beautiful eight-windowed cupola on the rooftop. He'd seen it when he first approached the grand white house from a distance.

“Only room enough up there for two of us,” she said,
quickly climbing the ladder. “Hurry up, you don't want to be missin' this!”

Nick hauled himself up and joined Lucy inside the small light-filled cupola. There were no seats as such, just wide crisscrossed beams where you could perch. The weather was brilliant, and the views, which were in every direction, were breathtaking. Small wonder. Mount Vernon sat atop one of the highest hills in Virginia, and this windowed cupola sat atop the highest part of the mansion. To the east, beyond the wide Potomac River, endless forests stretched to the horizon.

On the inland, western side of the house, where Washington would be arriving, Nick saw a green oval of grass that stood in the center of the mansion's circular drive. Beyond were kitchen gardens, ornate flower gardens with serpentine walkways, fruit orchards of every description. In the distance, a broad, lengthy expanse of rich, fertile green, with deep borders of woods to either side, stretched out to the main thoroughfare.

The West Gate, as it was called, was the main entrance to Mount Vernon. It was set in freshly painted white fencing, and it was where Washington would first appear. Just inside the fence, to the right side of the drive, stood a small fife and drum corps made up of household servants wearing the elegant Washington livery. They were already playing a welcoming melody. Nick could hear the song only faintly, but it sounded stirring.

“What is that tune they're playing, Lucy?”

“ ‘The Rose of Tralee.' One of the General's favorites. Look! There he is now. Yes! Do you see him?”

Nick strained his eyes to see, but there was no mistaking the figure leading the long line of dirty, threadbare troops marching in a slow and solemn step, regulated by drum and
fife. Horses, mule-drawn fieldpieces, and ammunition wagons followed each brigade.

In the forefront rode General George Washington, a giant of a man. He sat astride an iron-grey stallion, ramrod straight in the saddle. He reined in his mount and turned to speak briefly with some of the officers riding beside him. Then he saluted them, rode through his gate, accompanied by only a few other officers, raced up the tree-lined road to where his family waited.

Beyond the gate, the troops continued on, and it seemed to Nick as if the line must be at least two miles long. At the rear were the general officers, mounted on noble steeds, with endless wagons of baggage in their wake.

As Washington drew closer on the long drive, he spurred his horse on to a full gallop. Nick found himself staring open-mouthed at the historic figure approaching his home. His uniform was simple but splendid, his jacket dark blue faced with gold, gleaming epaulets on his shoulders. He rode with the easy grace of a natural rider, his muscular legs extended on long leathers, his toes pointed down in the stirrups. He was as powerful and captivating in person as he'd been in Nick's history books.

“What's his horse's name, Lucy?”

“Why, that's Blueskin. Ain't afraid of nothin'. One of his most favorite war horses, been riding him since war broke out—Look! Mrs. Washington is running out to greet him. Couldn't stand to wait there in the doorway another minute, I reckon. Lawsie, how she been missing that old man of hers.”

At the sight of his dear wife, dressed in a long, blue satin gown, gathering her skirts and running out to meet him, the General quickly reined in Blueskin, dismounted, and handed
the reins to another officer. Two liveried grooms approached and led the horses away to the stable.

“Come all the way from Baltimore, haven't you, old man?” Martha cried, opening her arms to her husband. “Sixty miles in one day! You must have been in a terrible hurry! I wonder why.”

Overcome with joy at the sight of his wife, Washington raced into Martha's open arms, lifted her easily off the ground, and whirled her about, much to the delight of everyone who'd turned out to witness the great man's arrival. He finally set her down, kissed her lips and both cheeks, and turned to the distinguished young officer who'd accompanied him. He offered his hand, but Martha Washington stepped forward and embraced the elegant young man like a long-lost son.

Then the two new arrivals, with a beaming Mrs. Washington betwixt them, holding both their hands, approached the mansion and the thunderous applause and huzzahs of the hundreds of farmers, field hands, house servants, and neighboring friends who had gathered to welcome the General home for this brief visit en route to Yorktown.

“Who is that young officer?” Nick asked Lucy. “His son?”

“No, his son Jacky is hugging his papa right now. That other gentleman is a Frenchman fighting alongside the general. Miz Washington calls him the Marquis de Lafayette, and she says he's one of the greatest friends America has.”

Lafayette, of course,
Nick thought. It was his men who now kept Cornwallis and the English troops at bay in Yorktown. The long line of soldiers still marching along the thoroughfare in the distance had to be regiments of Continentals plus the five thousand French under command of French General Rochambeau, if he remembered his history correctly.

The Battle of Yorktown was about to commence in earnest. Nick could feel it coming in his bones.

“Lucy,” Nick said, smiling at her pretty brown face, “would you do me a small favor?”

“Course I will. You're Miz Washington's special guest. Told me so her own self jes this mawnin'.”

“Thank you. If you could slip out the east side of the house and go around to the kitchen house, I'd appreciate you asking Mum Bitt to make me a small plate of food? Anything will do.”

“You're not attending the great banquet? I'm sure Miz Washington's expecting you.”

“She won't miss me in all that excitement. Anyway, I think it's better if I stay in my room for now. If she asks after me, just tell her I wasn't feeling too well and you brought some soup up to my room.”

“That's what you want, I'll bring it up to you. But I think you're not thinking right. This is mos' likely to be the grandest gala we ever had in this house!”

“You can tell me all about it this evening, Lucy.”

“Don't you worry yourself about that none. I got a secret place in the back of the pantry closet where I can see and hear everything that goes on in the dining room.”

Nick laughed. “Lucy, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were a natural born spy.”

“A supernatural spy is more like it. A spirit. Mum Bitt calls me the Ghost of Mount Vernon. She swears on the Bible she's seen me disappear right before her eyes. I pops up in the kitchen or in the kitchen garden or the stables or anywhere else on this whole plantation, like to scare people half to death.”

“You don't look like a ghost, Lucy. So, how do you do it?”

“There's hidden underground tunnels and secret passages all over this place. And another thing. An Indian taught me how to walk.”

“An Indian?”

“My mammy is a full-blooded Cherokee.”

A tapping at Nick's door brought him fully awake. He'd fallen asleep reading one of the American history books from General Washington's study that Mrs. Washington had thoughtfully stacked by his bed. The door cracked open a few inches, and he saw Mrs. Washington's smiling face peek inside. She was holding a candle, and the light flickering on her face was lovely. She was still dressed in the gown she'd worn to the gala.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes, ma'am?”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, ma'am.”

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“Particularly better, thank you.”

“I missed you at the grand banquet.”

“I'm most sorry to have missed it.”

She came into his room and sat beside his bed. Taking his hand, she said, “I've told the General all about you. He's most anxious to meet you. And so, may I add, is the general's closest friend, the Marquis de Lafayette.”

“It would be a great honor. I've just been reading about the general's exploits in the French and Indian wars. He's the bravest of men, ma'am, the kind of hero I'd like to be one day.”