The Time Pirate (51 page)

N
ick nestled deep under the covers of his familiar old bed on the second floor at Mount Vernon. The grand estate was beginning to feel like home. Wide-eyed, too excited to sleep, he lay on his side staring through the open window, the dark Potomac sliding by, the countless stars dusting the heavens beyond. The house was quiet, but he thought he heard the soft patter of slippers, most probably Lucy climbing some secret staircase hidden behind his bedroom wall.

He rolled over, clasped his hands beneath his head, and stared at the ceiling. Next morning, General de Rochambeau would arrive from Williamsburg with five thousand more infantry and cavalry to reinforce the American and French troops already besieging Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown.

But, most exciting of all, was the brief conversation he'd had with Lafayette just before they'd wished each other a good-night in the garden house and slipped unseen through the gardens into the darkened mansion. Because of all the sentries lurking about, it was a hurried, whispered conversation, but it had thrilled Nick McIver to the bone.

The Marquis would be commanding one of the American divisions in the coming battle, he said. The Light Infantry. Then he had actually asked Nick to join him and General Washington on the journey to Yorktown next morning! Nick would serve as Lafayette's primary aide-de-camp and thus be an eyewitness to one of the most historic battles ever waged.

He turned over onto his side, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep. Images of home—his father, mother, and sister, Katie—filled his mind. Gunner, too, and his own good dog, Jipper. He'd been so involved in saving Admiral de Grasse's fleet, he'd had precious little time to consider those he loved most. He couldn't help but worry how they were faring under the German occupation, most especially his father now in hospital.

He'd know soon enough, he thought, drifting off. When he'd acquitted himself of his duties to General Lafayette, he would go home to little Greybeard Island. Once there, he and Gunner would no doubt resume the business of making life extremely uncomfortable for the invading Nazis. They'd lost the beautiful old Camel, sure, but there were other ways to . . . to . . .

He drifted off into a dream of glory.

There came a tapping at his door, and Nick wondered if it was part of his dream. Then he heard the door squeak open and saw Mrs. Washington's cheerful face peeking in at him. The whole room was bathed in a rosy glow, and he knew dawn had finally broken over Mount Vernon.

“Awake?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Hungry, I'll bet,” she said, coming across the room to his bed. “May I sit a moment?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She settled herself at the foot of his bed, arranging her vo-luminous skirts, and regarded him carefully. There was warmth in those beautiful eyes, Nick saw, but worry, too. Her hands were trembling, and she quickly hid them in the folds of her skirts.

“The old man tells me you're going to Yorktown as General Lafayette's aide-de-camp.”

“The old man?”

“That's what I call my beloved husband. He calls me Patsy, even though my name is Martha. That's what twenty-two years of a happy marriage does to people. Silly, isn't it?”

“I don't think so. My poor departed mum and dad always used to call each other darling. My friend Gunner always used to say, ‘And how are the Darlings this fine morning, Nicholas?”

Mrs. Washington laughed for a moment and then composed herself. “So, it's true. You'll journey with the army to Yorktown this morning?”

“Yes, ma'am. General Lafayette asked me last evening. I was most honored to accept his kind and generous offer.”

“Nick, listen to me. You are a dear boy. Kind and caring, and courageous too. I've grown quite fond of you in the short time you've been here at Mount Vernon. And I'm here to ask just one thing of you. Don't go to Yorktown. Please.”

“Well, ma'am, I feel like I have to because—”

“Because nothing. You're a mere boy, not a soldier. Or even a drummer boy anymore. You don't have to do anything. It is going to be a ferocious battle, from what I hear. A fight to the
death. Anything can happen. Knowing war as I do, it will happen. Suppose Lafayette's division of Light Infantry is overrun. Don't forget, you're a traitor to your king and country, Nicholas. Do you know what those redcoats will do to you if you're captured? I shudder even to think of it.”

“Well, ma'am, I appreciate what you're saying, but I've never been one to run from a fight and—”

“Shh. Let me finish. The good Lord blessed me with four children. Three of them have long passed from this earth. Only my Jacky remains. This morning he asked his stepfather to allow him to go to Yorktown as one of the General's aides. The old man said yes.”

“Well, I guess—”

“I've got a bad feeling about my son going, Nicholas. A very bad feeling. And that's partly why I'm here, asking you not to go. You see, I, well, I suppose I have developed something akin to motherly feelings for you, Nicholas. If something should happen to Jacky—well, I just couldn't stand to lose you, too.”

For once, Nick found himself at a complete loss for words.

“You don't have to say anything. I just came up here to tell you how I felt. You'll make your own decision, I can see that. Now, you get dressed and hurry downstairs. Mum Bitt has laid out a splendid breakfast in honor of General de Rochambeau's arrival. General Washington wants everyone to have a hearty repast before the long journey south.”

She stood up, looking down at him, clasping her hands under her chin as if in prayer. “I'll see you downstairs, I suppose,” she said and, her eyes welling with tears, quickly turned away. When the door had closed behind her, Nick leaped out of bed, dressed, and hurried down to breakfast. There were
some things about a boy, he supposed, that women just didn't understand.

An hour later, Nick found himself mounted on a handsome little paint named Chief, and riding beside General Lafayette. Ahead of them rode General Washington, his staff officers, and his aides, young Jacky among them. All were protected by Washington's personal unit, called the Commander-in-Chief ‘s guard. These troops were responsible for the safety of the General's person and baggage, and they carried a distinctive white flag bearing a pictorial motif and a green scroll with the inscription CONQUER OR DIE.

Behind Washington, stretching for miles, was an army many thousands strong, the combined armies of General de Rochambeau and General Washington. The French troops alone numbered nearly eight thousand men.

The French infantrymen were brilliantly turned out in spotless white uniforms, their legs encased in white gaiters. Nearly all of them wore black three-cornered hats. And the magnificent regimental standards they carried were battle flags divided by white crosses with each quarter sporting a different color, corresponding to the division.

Most of the Continental infantrymen, by contrast, wore dark blue or black coats faced with red, white, or blue satin, corresponding to the regiment. The American cavalrymen wore short coats, buckskin breeches, and high boots called spatterdashes. But many of the Continentals, mostly militia, wore whatever bedraggled clothing they had, and far too many marched without shoes.

Seeing these brave and loyal men, their feet bloodied and
bruised by weeks of marching, Nick remembered something his father had told him long ago when he had complained about not having some silly nothing or other.

“I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.”

Among the militia were several hundred grizzled mountaineers. Sons of the Mountains they were called, a motley assembly of hardened outdoorsmen armed with long hunting rifles and a worthy reputation. These were the sharpshooters, and no one was more effective in a skirmish with the enemy. Despite their shabby attire, they were all soldierly looking, big men who endured privations, fatigue, and long marches without a murmur of discontent.

The army was traveling an ancient Indian path, now called the King's Highway. To Nick's amazement, the size of the army grew with every passing hour. French cavalry racing past them, eager to join their comrades already at the front; farmers and country people, some mounted and some on foot, all carrying the long small-caliber hunting rifles that had proven more accurate than military muskets.

The army spent the first night in Williamsburg, thousands of tents pitched on the green. A huge gala was held at the Governor's mansion in honor of General de Rochambeau, and Nick was thrilled to be invited. He delighted in the many toasts and tributes to Washington and Rochambeau, and the chorus of “Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!” that followed each tribute.

A drenching rain marked the next day's march. It rained all night, and Nick had only his blanket between him and the ground. At the end of a very long march the next day, Nick got a whiff of sea air. Moments later he heard the dull thunder of distant artillery. After a journey of over a hundred
miles, they were getting very close now, and couriers bearing dispatch satchels galloped by at breakneck speed, ferrying battlefield messages to Williamsburg and back.

By the time General Washington and the French commander, le Comte de Rochambeau, arrived at Yorktown, Virginia, on September 27, 1781, they were leading a combined force of seventeen thousand French and Colonial soldiers, including militia in rough clothing from all thirteen colonies.

Waiting for them inside the heavily fortified village called Yorktown were eight thousand redcoats. They were part of the finest army the world had ever seen, the elite of George III's expeditionary force to America. The enemy force included two veteran Anspach battalions and a Hessian regiment as well.

The British had built an elaborate system of earthworks and timber around the entire town. When they'd run out of trees, they'd taken to dismantling entire houses in the town of York, taking what wood they could find in an effort to reinforce their battlements.

As Nick rode on, he noticed that the woods on either side of the King's Highway had been decimated for British timber. The road was in awful condition. This was the route over which all of the allied armies behind him and all their wagons and cannon had to pass, along with the cavalry and all the cattle for feeding the troops.

“Nicholas,” Lafayette suddenly said, “follow me. I want to show you something.” He put spurs to his grey horse and galloped into the woods. Nick spurred his horse on, but having done little riding on his tiny island, he had a hard time keeping up with his new friend. Chief was no match for Lafayette's stallion.

When the path finally topped out at a clearing, Nick was
presented with a panoramic view of the entire battlefield spread out below. The tiny village of Yorktown, situated at the end of a peninsula jutting into the York River, was surrounded by British fortifications. The few houses left, mostly built of wood, were not grand, and the streets were very narrow. Beyond the river and an unbroken emerald green forest, he could see the broad blue Chesapeake Bay.

He reined in his horse. Lafayette was waiting patiently, surveying the scene below with the same spyglass he'd used aboard
Revenge
.

“Have a closer look,” Lafayette said, barely able to contain his excitement at what he'd seen. He passed Nick the glass. Cornwallis had taken his stand at the tip of a peninsula. His only hope of escape was now the sea, and those hopes would be dashed with the timely arrival of Admiral de Grasse and the French fleet.

Below them lay the great field of battle itself. In the far distance, a few small British warships anchored in the York River. On the shore, the small town of York, now completely encircled by British fortifications. The earthworks, Nick guessed, were about twenty feet thick and a dozen feet high.

Outside the main fort was a system of redoubts. These were very small defensive emplacements linked by trenches. The trenches and redoubts were meant to protect British soldiers and artillery, forming a defensive perimeter outside the main lines of defense. To Nick, these redoubts looked hastily built, earthworks and timber, although one large star-shaped redoubt on the right flank looked sturdy enough.