Caxton (16 page)

He also marveled over how much the Governor was an Englishman, and how much, now, he himself was not.

O
n his way back to Caxton the next afternoon, on the road near the College’s
pastures, Hugh was startled to encounter Jack Frake, who was on horseback, and
John Proudlocks, who drove a horse and cart, coming in the opposite direction
for Williamsburg. He smiled and tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.
What brings you here?”

“Necessities not carried in Mr. Rittles’s store,” Jack said. After a pause,
he asked, “How is the Governor?”
Hugh frowned. “How could you know I’ve seen him?”
Jack laughed. “Everyone in Caxton seems to know that you were summoned to the
Palace.” He paused again. “And many of our neighbors will be disappointed that
you do not return chastised. Have you been?”
Hugh shrugged and shook his head. “No, not in the least. And, I was not summoned.
I was invited. The Governor and I had a very illuminating conversation.”
“What do you think of him?”
“He means well, and will mean well for the duration of his tenure here. But
I do not expect his good intentions to prevail over his duty to the Crown, for
which I sensed he has a genuine but unreasoning affection. He is one man among
many to whom it will never occur that there can be no feasible arrangement between
the Crown’s present purposes and our own. He is neither a knave nor a fool.
I found myself wishing that he had stayed in London, and made a career of writing
papers on natural phenomena for the Royal Society. Or being a director of my
father’s bank,” Hugh added with a chuckle. “However, I fear he will attempt
to establish a sly balance of the Board of Trade’s desires and Virginia’s needs.
He must ultimately fail.”
Jack cocked his head. “I’ve heard that about him, Mr. Kenrick. But if he took
the side of Virginia with obvious conviction, he must know that he would be
recalled in a wink, and probably suffer the fate of Admiral Byng, and be executed
outside the offices of the Board.”
“As a traitor and a rebel,” remarked Hugh.
Jack nodded. “Well,” he said, “if you are right about him, we can be grateful
that his good intentions will purchase us time to gather, order, and refine
our wits.”
“And if you are right about the Crown’s ends, we will need those wits.”
The two men regarded each other with studied certitude. After a moment, Hugh
asked, “What makes us so sure that we will need those refined wits, Mr. Frake?”
Jack grinned. “Perhaps it is because we know we are both ascending Mount Olympus
— but from opposite sides. We are not made to be kept on plains.”
Hugh smiled in reply. He knew that his neighbor could have answered in that
manner only if he had finished reading the Pippin essays he had loaned to him.
“Had the Governor anything to say about your slaves?” asked Jack.
Hugh said, “He challenged me to work a miracle. Well, he shall soon have one.
And if he learns of it in the same manner that he learned of me, he will marvel
about it, but not oppose it.”
Jack chuckled. “I, too, will marvel about it.” He paused. “Mr. Reisdale has
proposed that you, he, and I form a kind of Attic society, and meet regularly
to discuss matters close to our hearts and minds.”
“A wonderful idea, Mr. Frake. We must discuss the idea when you return.” Hugh
touched his hat, nodded to both Jack and Proudlocks, and rode on.
As Jack and Proudlocks continued into Williamsburg, Proudlocks remarked, “You
are friends with him, but spoke in riddles. You must explain these riddles to
me, Jack.”
Jack did so as they rode up Duke of Gloucester Street. When he was finished,
Proudlocks observed, “So, there are clouds gathering on the other side of the
globe, and they will rain trouble.”
“Much trouble, John,” Jack said. “And anger, and heartbreak.”

* * *

“Business will take me in early March to Londontown, on the South River, across
from Annapolis, in Maryland. At your convenience, if you will contrive to be
there, we may meet and make the transaction which you propose in your letter
of January 10th. I shall bring all the necessary papers; you may bring a little
money (no Virginia paper, please), and a list of all the items. Enquire after
my vessel, the
Prudence
, a brig owned by my brother and me, for that
is where I plan to make my billet. I would send the papers to you, but your
signature is needed on them to prove a sale, both here and in your dominion.
Also, I am reluctant to trust such papers to the vagaries of His Majesty’s post
(even though Mr. Franklin has mightily improved it), and I would lief make this
a very personal matter. Mr. Talbot sends his regards and bids you write him….Your
respectful servant, Novus Easley.”

When he returned to Meum Hall late that afternoon, Hugh found mail on his library
desk, left there by Mr. Beecroft. Among the letters was one he tore open immediately,
because he recognized the hurried handwriting in the address. Novus Easley was
a Philadelphia merchant and a Quaker, who, with his brother, Israel, imported
and exported a variety of commodities. The brothers were also active in the
insurance business. Otis Talbot had known them for years, and the Easleys were
frequent supper guests at the Talbot home during Hugh’s residence.

There was also a letter from Talbot advising him that he expected the
Busy
and the
Ariadne
to call on Philadelphia in late March, and asking Hugh
to inform him if he wished either of them to call on Caxton.

Hugh rang for Spears, and told him to have Mrs. Vere prepare some tea and cold
cuts. “Who went to the
Courier
for the mail, Spears?”
“Mr. Beecroft, sir. The
Belfast
docked at Yorktown shortly after you
left for Williamsburg, and a post-rider came late yesterday noon. He told me
that the
Belfast
will stay at Yorktown until tomorrow or the next day,
loading some things it will take to Norfolk, and then return to Philadelphia
after a stop at Hampton.”
“Ask him if the post-rider is still in town here.”
Spears went on his errand. Hugh sat down and drafted two brief letters, one
to Mr. Easley, the other to Talbot. The valet reappeared with a tray holding
a tea service and a plate of cold cuts. “Mr. Beecroft informs me that the post-rider
crossed the river to Rosewell, sir, and will circuit up to De la Ware Town,
thence round to Williamsburg, delivering and receiving letters in those parts.”
“Then you must ride to Yorktown with some letters for the
Belfast
, when
I am finished with them. Saddle a horse, and come back here in thirty minutes.”
After Spears was dispatched with the letters and money to pay for their postage,
Hugh opened his “diary of ideas” and recorded from memory his conversation with
Lieutenant-Governor Fauquier.

* * *

In a move to raise the quality and value of the tobacco leaving Maryland’s
shores, and to put the product on a par with Virginia’s, the assembly of that
proprietary colony in 1747 enacted a law that reduced the number of tobacco
inspection ports. The purpose of the act was to eliminate “trash” tobacco from
its exports. It bolstered the fortunes of some river and Bay towns in that colony,
and condemned others to a swift or slow demise.

Londontown, at the time a bustling, prosperous commercial center comparable
to Norfolk, was absent from the list of official inspection ports. Whether it
was deemed guilty of having sent more than its share of “trash” to Britain,
or was the victim of political maneuvering for the composition of the final,
shortened list, is a matter of speculation. Londontown was abruptly denied its
livelihood. No longer could planters transport their hogsheads to the town’s
warehouses for inspection and loading onto vessels bound for Britain; the warehouses
became, less and less, storage for transshipment to other Maryland ports. Ship
captains and masters grew less willing to anchor at Londontown to load on other
agricultural exports, such as wheat and corn, and so the producers of those
commodities were obliged to take their harvests to where the ships docked. English
and Scottish factors closed their shops and extended no more credit. Fewer and
fewer British manufactures came through the town. The warehouses became the
spacious abodes for pigeons, rats, bats and other vermin, the wharves and piers
rotted from disuse and neglect, and the taverns, shops, and houses became starved
for reasons to exist.

What saved Londontown from the instant fate of many other excised towns was
its location on the main road between Philadelphia, Annapolis, and Williamsburg.
One or two ferry services across the South River and the Bay still thrived,
and a handful of enterprises catered to travelers between those points.

Hugh told no one the purpose of his trip to Londontown, except that it concerned
business. On the first of March, after giving instructions to William Settle
for tasks to be completed while he was gone, he packed a pair of saddlebags
and rode from Meum Hall to Yorktown.

Among his instructions was the branding of his tobacco hogsheads. All planters
had devised marks, usually their initials, that would distinguish their hogsheads
from others for easy identification by warehousemen and agents both in the colonies
and in England. On a visit to Morland Hall, Hugh had seen Jack Frake’s brand,
which was the silhouette outline of a diving sparrowhawk containing his initials.
Hugh handed Settle a sketch of his own mark, which was an ascending sparrowhawk
containing his initials,
HK
, for Primus, the chief blacksmith, to fashion.

From Yorktown Hugh and his mount were ferried across the York to Tindall’s
Point. Four days later, after crossing the Rappahannock, Potomac, and Patuxent
Rivers, he arrived late in the morning in Londontown on the South River.

He was immediately struck by the dilapidated condition of the town. There were
many houses, shops, and other buildings on its checkerboard of streets — many
more than in Williamsburg — but almost every one of them was boarded up or looked
abandoned. Here and there he saw crews of men tearing down structures, but met
few other people. Weeds and locust tree saplings grew in the foundations of
buildings vanished years ago. A thin layer of snow on most of the near-deserted
town’s unheated roofs looked to him like a shroud that nature had prepared for
the place’s passing.

Hugh found the
Prudence
moored at a pier. Once he was onboard and had
exchanged greetings with Novus Easley, he asked for an explanation for what
he had seen.

“’Tis the evil that men do, if they have a dollop of power, Mr. Kenrick,” said
Easley, who then explained the act passed by the Maryland legislature. “The
law assuredly abolished one kind of trash, and created another,” he concluded,
waving a hand vaguely at the town beyond the captain’s cabin that he occupied.

Novus Easley was in his late forties, stocky, energetic, and married. He was
noted for the fineness of his plain clothes and the frankness of his speech.
He offered Hugh a glass of rum to warm himself, but Hugh declined. Easley asked
why. It was Hugh’s turn to explain the custom of the Society of the Pippin.
“What a noble abstinence!” exclaimed the Quaker. “Brandy, then?”

Hugh nodded. Easley handed him a glass of brandy. “You must, of course, plan
on staying the night, young sir, after your journey. There is an extra billet
down the way. I don’t recommend either of the surviving taverns in town. There
used to be a dozen of them. The chaps who are left will charge you for a banquet
but serve you army rations.”

Hugh was seated in a chair opposite Easley’s desk. He frowned and asked, “What
business could bring
you
here, sir?”
“I am here to purchase what I may from ship chandlers and the like, from their
dusty stores. Cables, log and leadlines, sewing and boltrope twine, compasses,
glasses, sailcloth, anchors, ballast shovels, sail duck…whatever is needed to
complete or repair a vessel. There is a ropewalk here for all sorts of cables,
cordage, and rigging. Owned by the Blevins family for nigh fifty years. I have
bought it and its stock, and will have it taken down and freighted to Philadelphia.”
The Quaker paused to sip the mug of coffee a crewman had brought him shortly
before Hugh’s arrival. “I have also come for brick. There is some fine brick
here — plain and glazed —going to waste in these sad, empty houses, which were
built by men with a vain eye on eternity. Do not misconstrue me, sir. You have
seen my home in Philadelphia, and know that I love vanity. But when other men
have a mere iota of say in the disposition of one’s property, there can be no
such thing as eternity. Much of the brick I shall take away will go into the
construction of homes for my children, when they are married and anxious to
leave mine, good riddance all around!”
Hugh asked, “Are you buying on credit?”
Easley shook his head. “Credit? Banish that foul word, sir! No! With lovely,
cold specie! And not a day too soon for the folks I purchase from. Mr. Steward,
who owns the shipyard on the West River just south of here, has been presumptuously
lax, and has not snagged all that may be had here. The owners and heirs of all
this sorry property have only been waiting for opportune persons to come by
and relieve them of their former livelihoods.” The Quaker grinned. “If you on
your way here passed by men busy in destruction, they are my men, some of them
locals, others I brought with me.”
“How will you dispose of all the naval stores?”
“I know a man, who knows a man, who knows a man who will want these things.
You know that this is a large part of my business, to know others’ lacks and
wants. Such a prospect is possible in a town like Philadelphia.” Easley paused.
“And, I know certain men in my assembly. Do you know any in Williamsburg?”
“Two burgesses for my own county, and Governor Fauquier, whose acquaintance
I have recently made.”
The Quaker looked genuinely impressed. “Are you on good terms with
him
?”
Hugh nodded. He told Easley what he and the Governor had talked about, and ended,
“He assured me, too, that he would not oppose a miracle, should I accomplish
one.”
“The miracle meaning your proposed transaction with me?”
“Yes.”
Easley hummed in doubt. “Perhaps if he knew you better, you would not be on
such good terms with him.”
“He is an earnest man of piecemeal convictions. I do not believe he will grant
himself the time to examine them so closely that he would see that no concordance
is possible among them.”
Easley shook his head. “Oh, no, sir. They must be in concordance, my good friend,
in some habit of way, for otherwise he would go mad. Perhaps you meant that
it is a harmonious
unity
of convictions that he lacks.”
Hugh laughed and threw up his hands. Novus Easley laughed in triumph. He had
provided Hugh some intellectual company during his two years in Philadelphia.
After an early dinner aboard the
Prudence
, Easley took his guest on a
tour of Londontown to show him what he had purchased and planned to purchase,
including the ropewalk, the chandlers’ warehouses, the brick, timber, and shingles
of three houses, a tavern, and a church. “I have not been so fortunate in window
glass,” he remarked to Hugh as they strode along the main street. “That has
either been broken or removed. The ferrymaster here, Mr. Brown, is the most
likely culprit for its removal. You will have noticed a new place being constructed
on the hill yonder. It is to be his home and a tavern for travelers. It will
remain when the others are gone.”
“You will need to order glass from England.”
“Oh…not necessarily,” Easley said. “I know a man in Philadelphia whose business
outwardly is hemp, but who has retained the talented services of some Swiss
fellows who make glass. My brother and I provided him with the secret capital
to do that business. It has paid us very nicely.”
Hugh frowned in mock disapproval. “That is illegal, Mr. Easley. All glass must
come from England, and be cut to size by glaziers here. Or, used as sent.”
“Perhaps it is illegal, Mr. Kenrick, but it is less costly. Many homes and shops
in your former residence boast windows that cost a mere tenth of English glass.
Do not misconstrue me. I am as patriotic as you are.”
The two men talked well into the evening and over supper.
In his cabin, Easley reached for a portfolio on his desk and removed some papers
from it. “Well,” he said, “let us complete our business, young sir. Have you
the list I requested?”
Hugh went to his saddlebags in the corner, retrieved a sheet of paper, and handed
it to Easley. The Quaker pursed his lips as he read down the list. With feigned
concern, he remarked, “This will be a very costly trade, Mr. Kenrick. Have you
a shilling?”
“A purse full, sir.”
“One only will be needed. After all, we must be truthful, if asked, when we
assert that money changed hands.” Easley chuckled. “My signature comes cheaply,
when I am asked to endorse another man’s freedom.”
Hugh handed Easley a shilling, which the man dropped into his frock coat pocket
without a glance. He rose and went to the cabin door, which he opened to call
out, “Mr. Norris, you are needed here!” He returned to his desk and said, “My
best clerk has accompanied me.”
When Norris came in, Easley handed him the portfolio. “Here is the task we discussed
before we departed.” He introduced Hugh to the clerk. Then Norris turned to
Easley and asked, “At what price, sir?”
“Oh, forty pounds per item ought to be right.” Easley glanced at Hugh for agreement.
Hugh nodded.
Norris smiled. “Yes, sir. Forty pounds per. The documents will be ready in the
morning.” He nodded to his employer and Hugh, and left the cabin.
Easley gave a short, triumphant laugh. “If anyone in your parts has a mind to
contest the authenticity or legality of our business, sir, it will be only at
some expense to himself or to the public revenues.”