The Time Pirate (41 page)

“He loves these colonies and their cause like no other man.
He has a boundless vision for America's future. He can see clear from the Potomac all the way to the Ohio Valley and to the great Pacific Ocean beyond. That's what he is fighting for. A great, wide-open country where men and women can live and prosper in peace and freedom.”

“I predict history will place General Washington amongst the greatest of men who have ever lived, ma'am. In fact, I'm sure of it.”

“He's in his study, now, Nicholas. Going over final battle plans for the siege at Yorktown with the Marquis. He asked me to find out if you were feeling well enough to come down-stairs, that he and Lafayette might make your acquaintance. They are both, in fact, most curious about this information you claim to possess.”

“Oh, yes. That would be wonderful. I would count it as the greatest honor of my life to meet His Excellency.”

“Well, then, Master Nicholas McIver, I shall leave you in peace while you go about your business. But don't tarry. Very, very few guests at Mount Vernon are ever invited into his private study. He is expecting you. And he doesn't suffer tardiness well.”

“Two minutes and not a second more, ma'am.”

“Good boy. I shall tell him to expect you at once.”

N
ick descended the stairs slowly, one at a time, the leather tube containing the charts he and Katie had stolen clutched in his right hand. He could feel the Tempus Machina concealed in the leather sling beneath his left arm. His heart was thudding in his chest, and he had to will his hands to stop shaking.

He hadn't felt this nervous since he and Gunner had stood outside Admiral Lord Nelson's office at Saint James's Palace, waiting to be announced. Why? What was there to be afraid of tonight of all nights! He tried to analyze this troublesome emotion and quickly recognized it as fear of General George Washington's reaction to the inconceivable notion of time travel.

He didn't fear disclosing the secret of Captain Blood's planned ambush of the French fleet. No, the charts and documents he carried provided ample proof of that. Nick knew all of Washington's hopes for victory at Yorktown depended on the timely arrival of Admiral de Grasse and his fleet. It was de Grasse who would blockade the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay and repel any attempt by the Royal Navy to rescue Cornwallis by sea.

Admiral de Grasse's large fleet would destroy any hope the
British command or Cornwallis had of escaping Washington's siege. The trap would be secure. The noose would tighten further around Lord Cornwallis. A great American victory was so close at hand. But only de Grasse and his ships could seal Cornwallis's fate.

Washington would immediately seize upon the importance of the naval intelligence Nick possessed. Which was all well and good, he thought, as he slowly approached the door to the General's study.

But what about the General's reaction to the golden orb he carried?

Yes, that was it, all right. That was the single-most troublesome thing about this entire endeavor. He'd been worried about this moment for weeks. Washington was an eminently sensible man. Would the General think him absolutely mad? Nick would have to convincingly describe the miraculous wonders of the Tempus Machina. It was entirely possible the man might erupt in furor at such an outrageous proposition.

Nick himself had scoffed at the very notion of time travel when Lord Hawke and Commander Hobbes had first explained the workings of the machine to him at Hawke Castle. He had thought they were both quite mad at the time and was angry at their attempt to convince him that the impossible was, in fact, possible.

But he'd learned, as his sister Katie frequently reminded him, that
nothing is impossible
.

Why should he expect less skepticism from the great General? In a few moments, he might well find himself thrown out of Mount Vernon on his ear! With good reason! And who would be blamed for allowing this rapscallion of a boy, mad as a hatter, inside the General's beloved home? Inside his sanctuary?

Martha Washington, of course. “Don't ever betray me,” she'd said. Was he even now about to do that very thing?

“Nelson the strong, Nelson the brave, Nelson the Lord of the Sea.” Whispering his silent prayer for courage, he raised his hand to rap upon General Washington's study door.

Could he do this?

Yes. He could and he would. He had no choice.

Nick took a deep breath and knocked smartly on George Washington's mahogany door. “May I enter, sir?”

“Come in, come in!” a deep voice boomed from inside.

Nick turned the handle and stepped inside the inner sanctum of the greatest man alive.

It was not a large room by any means. But it was full of many things that gave clues to the man who spent his private time here: old surveying instruments, a globe, telescope, and compass on the large desk, the famous revolving circular chair. On one wall hung the skeleton of a fish, fierce-looking, with long jaws full of razor-sharp teeth. Souvenirs brought from Barbados, Nick knew, where, at age nineteen, he'd gone with his ailing half-brother Lawrence, dying of consumption.

In the hearth, a fire was blazing against the late evening chill. General Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette sat in two leather armchairs on either side of the hearth. But it was Washington's presence that completely dominated the room. He was an imposing figure, well over six feet. His large bones, hands, feet, and thighs gave Nick the impression of great physical strength. His face, storm-beaten and tanned as leather from years of the soldier's life, bore traces of smallpox scars. Beneath his powdered wig, his large, penetrating eyes were grey-blue set very wide apart, and gave an unexpected hint of humor.

Washington, in his dress blue uniform coat, immediately got to his feet as Nick entered. He turned toward the boy with a smile, extending his hand. Nick shook it briefly, not
wanting the General to notice his trembling. The man was a towering presence in this small room, his giant shadow flickering up the wall and stretching across the ceiling. Across the whole Earth, Nick thought.

Nick, who like his mother was very good at reading faces, saw a great deal in the man's eyes. After five long years of the harshest circumstances, he saw patience, the ability to bounce back again and again from bitter disappointments and shattered hopes. But in the main, he saw too many defeats and too few victories. And, in the General's warm smile, hope.

“It is a great honor to meet you, sir,” Nick managed to say without stammering. “I am Nicholas McIver, sir.”

Washington laughed. “Oh, I know very well who you are, Nicholas. My dear Patsy can't seem to stop talking about you. You seem to have both charmed her and won her heart in the short time you've been under my roof. A good-looking fellow like you, hale and hearty—I should have cause to worry were you not so very young.”

Nick felt his cheeks burning, and it was all he could do not to turn away and flee the room.

Laughing at his friend's joke and Nick's reaction, the elegant young French General in a pristine white uniform rose and bowed in Nick's direction. “General de Lafayette at your service, Monsieur McIver.”

Slightly built, with a long pointed nose, narrow egg-shaped head, and a receding line of reddish hair, the Marquis was anything but handsome. But the eyes sparkled brightly with intelligence and courage.

Nick said, “A great honor to meet you as well, sir.”

Washington pulled up a small side chair for Nick and everyone sat down. Nick, his hands trembling slightly, placed the leather tube across his knees.

Washington turned his smile on Lafayette. “Nicholas McIver, it seems, has forsaken king and country for our glorious cause, General. He was a drummer, Second Light Infantry, and an aide to Armstrong and Cornwallis. I understand he has some news of the enemy to share with us. I suggest we dispense with pleasantries and see what the boy has to say. Anyone who's spent time under Lord Cornwallis's tent shall have my full attention. I caution you, Nicholas. Should I determine you to be merely an agent provocateur, you shall find yourself in prison when the sun arises. The floor is yours, sir.”

“Yes, sir, as you wish, I hope you—” Nick paused, swallowing hard, not quite sure how he should go about this.

“Please begin,” Washington said. “Time is of the essence, and the Marquis and I are all ears. What have you there across your knees?”

“Charts, sir, describing an ambush at sea. I believe you are most anxiously awaiting the arrival of an Admiral de Grasse and his fleet at Chesapeake Bay? Sailing up from Cap-François on the island of Saint Domingue?”

Washington, so shocked and startled that a mere boy might be in possession of one of his most closely guarded secrets, was momentarily unable to speak. He looked at the Marquis, who appeared equally shaken.

“Confound it, lad! How on earth did you come by that?” Washington finally said, his eyebrows rising in astonishment. “A topic of utmost secrecy, vital information known only by three people in my entire army. And two of them are sitting in this room.”

“Three, plus one twelve-year-old boy, it would seem,” the Marquis said, leaning back in his chair, an amazed expression on his face. “Astonishing! I simply cannot believe my own ears! Where, pray tell, did you come by this knowledge, Nick?”

“Lord Cornwallis has many spies in the West Indies, sir. News arrives by fast frigate at his headquarters constantly. I managed to borrow some charts from his tent the night I made my decision to escape from Yorktown and join the Continentals. I have the charts here for your inspection.”

“You stole these documents from under his nose? Has he no sentries?” Washington asked.

“Yes, sir. But they are friends of mine, long accustomed to seeing me come and go at all hours, retrieving and delivering messages for the Earl and his officers. I hid the documents in this tube and shoved it down my trouser leg, sir, stuck it well inside my boot. It was quite invisible in the dark.”

“If what he says is true, Cornwallis knows all,” Lafayette said darkly. “A tragedy of the worst order.”

Washington frowned and said, “And what does Lord Cornwallis intend to do with this knowledge? Has he summoned the Royal Navy at New York to intercept de Grasse's fleet? I have reports British Admiral Graves is sailing south from New York.”

“Lord Cornwallis has done nothing about de Grasse, sir. He knows he
need
do nothing to stop de Grasse. It's pirates who are the source of the French Admiral's trouble, not the British Royal Navy.”

“Pirates, you say? Trouble? What kind of trouble, Nicholas McIver?” George Washington said, leaning forward toward Nicholas with the most startlingly intense look Nick had ever seen.

“An ambush, sir. A trap not yet sprung.”

“What kind of ambush?” Washington asked. “Perhaps you have heard of a notorious English pirate captain named William Blood, sir?”

“I have not.”

“I have heard tell of him, and nothing favorable,” Lafayette said. “I had a brief encounter with his 74-gun
Revenge
off the coast of Spain once. He ran away before we could sink him. The Brethren of the Coast they call themselves. ‘Heathen of the Coast' would suit them better, by my lights.”

“This newly formed lot under Blood's command call themselves Brethren of Blood, sir,” Nick said.

“First, tell me all you know,” Washington said, his voice low and deadly serious. “And then show me the evidence.”

Nick looked first at Washington and then at Lafayette. He found himself gathering confidence as he spoke. “Blood has, in these last months, assembled a formidable pirate armada at Port Royal, Jamaica. Perhaps numbering one hundred ships and—”

“Beg pardon,” Washington said. “Did you say
one hundred
ships?”

“Aye, sir, one hundred. Blood's fleet will lie in wait for de Grasse.”

“A hellish plot,” the American General said, staring forlornly at Lafayette. “Please continue, Nicholas.”

“Well, sir, you see, Captain Blood has spies everywhere, so he is well aware of Admiral de Grasse's intentions to sail north to the Chesapeake Bay off Yorktown. Blood cares nothing for this war and has no stake in the outcome. But he knows the French fleet carries much gold and plunder from their recent victories at Saint Lucia and Tobago.”

“And five thousand French marines we sorely need at Yorktown,” Lafayette said grimly.

The two men looked at each other. Both knew that unless de Grasse and his fleet arrived unimpeded off Yorktown, preventing Cornwallis from escaping by sea, all was lost.

George Washington stood, looking down at Nick's leather tube. “The charts, if you please. Now would be a good time.”

“Of course, sir,” Nick said, and handed him the tube.

The General cleared a space on his wide desk and then removed the tightly rolled charts from the tube. He spread them out, weighting down the four corners with three small bronze cannonballs and the replica of an American field cannon. Lafayette and Nicholas joined him at the desk. On top of the stack, the details of Blood's plot, sketched upon a map of the Caribbean.