The Silver Bullet (31 page)

He also possesses an innate shyness, proceeding from the circumstances of his birth. For the general is said to be an illegitimate son of King George II, produced in his dotage during a liaison with a courtesan. There are wild rumors of his being stolen from his mother as a young boy and raised by another family whose last name was adopted, but we have not time to go into such stories with Jake standing momentarily tongue-tied on the threshold across from Bacon.

One other factor of his birth and indeed a major contributor to his most prominent physical feature, should be mentioned briefly before returning to our tale. The general was born with the caul or birthing sheath upon his face. While in many circumstances this is seen as a sign of good fortune, it was the opposite in Bacon, for it imparted a strange congenital disease. The general’s face had been slowly eroding since birth. Starting from a slight red mark on his forehead, fully one-third of his face now appeared consumed by a deep, corrosive disease – the black clay of his nickname.

Jake saw the mark and immediately knew whom he was facing. But before he could retreat, a strong arm clamped him around his shoulder. He was dragged forward into the room, much in the manner a bear might invite a friend for dinner.

“
Well, if it isn’t our good friend Dr. Jake, the only man in all of the colonies whose headache powders can actually effect a cure,” said the bear, known to his friends as Major Elmore Harris. “Come in and sit down, my good man. Gentlemen make room. General, I’d like to present a good Royalist and possibly the best doctor the colonies have produced, Jake Gibbs.

The sincerity of Major Harris’s praise was exceeded only by the amount of rum on his breath. Jake had given the major a bottle of headache powders the last time they met. He had also managed to steal some papers relating to the disposition of British troops on the island and the neighboring Jerseys. The circumstances under which the papers were taken should have left little doubt as to who their purloiner was, but the major’s manner as yet betrayed no ill will. Jake could only play along, letting himself be dragged to the table, smiling and bowing as he was introduced all around.

General Bacon sat at the end, with a proper border of space around him, befitting his rank. He acknowledged the introduction with the slightest nod of his head.

Did these officers suspect Jake’s true profession? If so, they gave no indication as the conversation progressed. After the unedited praise of his headache cure, the major went on to other matters, such as what Jake had been doing with himself these past few months.

“
Searching for new cures,” he answered, trying to think of the reply whose details were least likely to be challenged. “I have spent some time among the voodoo people on the Caribbean islands. You’ve heard of them?”

The response was unanimously negative.

“
They come from Africa and have a curious approach to nature,” Jake said, sensing the coast was clear. “I have lately traveled north into the wilderness in search of some of their ingredients. My ambition is for an oil that will speed the mending time of bones.”

“
But doctor, why would you want that?” asked one of the officers. “Then you would have less time to try your medicines, and receive considerably less profit by selling them.”

They had a good laugh at the general practice of apothecaries, which they understood Jake to be despite his using the title of doctor. In England there was a strict difference between the two, and a good deal of snobbery existed against druggists – provided, of course, you weren’t sick at the moment.

“
I have attended the University of Edinburgh,” Jake said stilly, seeing a chance to escape gracefully by naming the world’s most advanced medical college. “I resent the implication.”

He rose.

“
Don’t be too sensitive, my good fellow,” said Major Harris. “It was only a joke.”

“
Thank you, but I have other business here.”

“
I had a question for you,” said Harris, whose grip on his arm suddenly tightened.

“
We can discuss it another time, in different company.”

“
The doctor is right to be insulted,” said Bacon. At is first word, even the people at the far end of the room stopped speaking. “There is much to be gained from studying other peoples/ I myself am interested in the voodoos.”

“
That’s gratifying to hear, General,” replied Jake. The two men’s eyes met in the grim light of the tavern. Each instantly had a sense of the other – though Jake hoped the general’s was not as deep as his own.

“
I would be interested in discussing them with you,” continued Bacon. “Unlike some of our other officers, I have better ways to spend my days than whoring among the rabble.”

His men looked down at the table.

“
I would like very much to talk with you sometime,” said Jake, bowing – and in the process loosening Harris’s grip. “But it will have to be another time. I was on my way to see a patient here.”

“
In the tavern?” asked Harris.

“
There are benefits to consulting in such a place,” said Jake, taking a step back. “The patient tends to be more at ease.”

“
I would like to ask you about certain papers,” whispered the major, “what are no longer in my possession.”

“
What type of papers?” asked Jake in a loud voice.

Harris’s face suddenly turned red. He could not say in front of this company, certainly not in front of the general, without volunteering himself for a court-martial. But the matter being opened, it needed a satisfactory closing.

“
Oh, the copies of the
Gazette
,” said the patriot. “But I thought you wouldn’t mind. They had that excellent article making fun of Washington – I’ve already sent them to my father and sister. Those are the papers you mean, aren’t they?” Jake added. The look of innocent puzzlement he expressed would have fooled the king.

“
It took only a half look around the table to convince the major that, yes, that was precisely what he was talking about.

“
You will call for dinner Sunday,” Bacon commanded. “Promptly at one.”

“
Thank you, sir; I will be there.” Jake gave a little salute with his head – a bit too much flourish, but such gestures were never wasted on knights. “In the meantime, gentlemen, let me warn you that an epidemic of a newly discovered strain of the flue, “Greene Disease,” we doctors call it, is expected this spring. I should recommend a good dose of mercury to get your systems in order before it strikes.”

Having prescribed poison for them all, Jake effected an escape, ducking from the front room into the hallway. AS he reached the threshold, a loud screech emanated from upstairs.

A cow being harpooned made a more harmonious sound. Jake’s first reaction was to cover his ears; his second was to listen more carefully. It did not sound like it came from van Clynne, but in truth it did not sound like it came from any human being.

Had Jake stumbled onto one of Bacon’s notorious torture chambers?

Any consideration for his own safety vanished as he leaped up the stairs, determined to rescue his friend. By the time he reached the top of the first flight, the cries had become low moans of pain. He realized they were coming from a closed closet on the next floor up, just off the railed landing. Two leaps and he made the top of the steps. Another strike and he was halfway to the middle of the threshold to confront the damnable British.

One of whom had passed out at the table, the other of whom was producing those hideous sounds by moaning loudly into a large bowl filled with beer.

“
It’s about time you showed up,” said van Clynne, rising from the table. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to find you myself.”

“
What happened here?”

“
The English simply cannot hold their liquor.” Van Clynne reached back and took a last gulp from his tankard.

It took several blocks for van Clynne to detail his encounter with the sergeant. Night had now progressed far on her path; the stars twinkled above the dusty glow of the streetlamps and the moon attempted to peek through the clouds.

“
It seems General Howe is not content with amusing himself with the mistress Sultana,” van Clynne said, relating what the soldiers had told him once they’d started drinking. The reference was to one of Mrs. Loring’s less vulgar nicknames. “He went out to the ship for a rendezvous with a certain Miss Elva Pierce this evening, and awaits a Miss Melanie Pinkleton tomorrow. Apparently, he can’t decide if he likes blondes or redheads.”

How did van Clynne know the hair color of Mrs. Loring’s new rivals?

“
Because, sir, I know both families. The Pierces are of no account, being English, but Pinkleton – I daresay the girl bounced on my knee once or twice as a child. Her father was a good Dutchman, God rest his soul, but you see what comes from marrying a Scots woman.

“
Red hair?”

“
And much worse.”

“
Would she recognize you?”

“
Claus van Clynne is not a man easily forgotten.”

“
The guards expect you in the morning to deliver the bullet?” Jake said.

“
I’ll not go on the ocean if my life depends on it,” said van Clynne. “Not this evening, not in the morning, not ever. We’re better off trying our luck at Roelff’s. I know a handy way from King’s Bridge.”

Jake weighed the options. Howe being aboard ship would make escape a difficult contingency, especially since the mistress would complicate things. And the Dutchman’s remarkable cunning in disposing of his two guards this evening might not be so well received among the British as it was with Jake.

“
Are you sure the officers will stay in the inn, and not in the camp?”

“
It is all they ever do. I don’t understand the attraction myself, but apparently they are enamored of Roelff’s daughter.”

“
All right. Assuming Roelff has convinced them to stay, you’ll arrange with him to be placed in the same room as Herstraw. You go in ahead of him so he can’t block the door against us. After he falls asleep, you let me in and I’ll exchange the bullets.”

“
Why must I take the harder assignment? Why don’t you?”

“
We’ll take our horses near the opposite shore,” said Jake, ignoring the question. “I know a place we can tie them north of the British armory, and get a rowboat besides.”

“
A rowboat!”

“
We can’t risk going back by King’s Bridge. It’s too far north, and besides, they’ll be suspicious of any night traveler, especially if word has gotten out about the sham battle we fought this afternoon.”

“
I would rather reconsider this entire operation from the point of view of dry land,” said van Clynne.

-
Chapter Twenty-seven-

Wherein, it is discovered that where there is smoke there is not necessarily fire.

F
or about half
the distance across the East River, the trip was idyllic. A nearly full moon hung in the sky, shadowed occasionally by clouds but throwing ample light for Jake to steer by. The stars stood ready to offer navigational assistance. The only sound besides the measured rowing was the howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance.

And the gentle trickle of water lapping against a piece of wood.

Unfortunately, the wood in question was part of the interior floorboard of the boat. The leak did not become apparent until they were midstream, but thereafter it progressed with such speed that they were more in the water than in the boat.

Remembering his experience coming in the other direction, van Clynne stood as the water approached his lap, figuring he had only to stand and walk out of this predicament. Unfortunately, rivers are rarely symmetrical.

“
Help!” shouted the squire as he sank beneath the waves.

Jake threw his shoes to shore and dove into the river just as the boat gave up all pretense of floating. The icy grip of the river closed quickly around his chest. The water tasted bitter as well as cold. It splashed into his eyes, stinging and making it hard to see.

Van Clynne was gurgling and splashing somewhere nearby. Jake stroked in the direction of the sounds, but found nothing.

Suddenly, he realized he wasn’t hearing anymore. Wiping his eyes, Jake looked around and around, scanning the surface. He could make out the shadows of the nearby shore – but no van Clynne.

Desperate now, Jake tucked his upper body into the river and dove straight down, extending his arms in a vain hope to snag his drowning companion. Still nothing.

Had had to come up for another breath of air. Once again he scanned the surface, saw not even a hint of his companion, then pressed back below. He swam in a broad, desperate circle, fighting against the current.

Lungs bursting, Jake started to kick for the surface when his foot struck something soft and mushy. He bent down and snagged a piece of thick cloth – van Clynne’s jacket.

Fortunately, van Clynne was still in it.

Jake pulled him to the east shore and dragged him onto land. The Dutchman’s body was cold and he didn’t appear to be breathing. Jake turned him onto his stomach – no small feat in itself – and began pumping rhythmically, hoping to restore him to life.