Jake thought it prudent to shadow the task force’s movements for a distance, occasionally sounding muffled alarms and firing a few guns to make sure they proceeded in the proper direction. Fortunately, van Clynne’s estimation of Roelff’s loyalties proved correct, though the cost threatened to become a sticking point when the man said he would take only “real” money, real in this case being coins. Jake, having only American paper money left, managed to persuade van Clynne to advance the sum and even, after many threats, veiled and unveiled, to cease off haggling. The whole procedure consumed a large portion of time, and they were just running down the small path at the rear of the inn to take possession of Roelff’s flat-bottomed skiff when the patrol’s advance guard made an appearance at the front door.
The waters were too rough to chance having their horses swim with them. But Roelff’s pole-driven skiff barely fit both animals and it was nearly as difficult to persuade them to come aboard in the waning light as it had been to get van Clynne to part with his money. Finally the small party pushed off, Jake levering the pole with all his might. Van Clynne put an equal amount of exertion into holding his eyes closed.
“ Hallo there!” called one of the redcoats, arriving at the slip.
Jake, who’d doffed his redcoat uniform and was back in brown breeches and white shirt, waved at the man, pretending to misunderstand his order to return.
Van Clynne’s horse had the same sentiments toward the water as its master. Once it sensed the shore nearby, it bolted from the small craft with such force that the boat overturned.
“ I’m drowning! I’m drowning!” screamed van Clynne in the water.
“ Stand up,” said Jake, busy grabbing their things from the water. Fortunately, he had taken the precaution of placing his knives, gun, powder, and bullets in the water-tight bladder inside his saddlebag. But everything else, including Jake himself, was soaked.
“ I was testing your reflexes,” protested van Clynne as he waded ashore.
“ Do you need help?” called one of the soldiers.
Jake shook his head, but then pointed at the bottom of the boat. “A rock has come through,” he shouted, pushing the long craft ashore.
“ It looks all right from here,” shouted the soldier.
“ No, look,” replied Jake, picking up a boulder from the riverbed. He smashed it through the boat’s bottom. “See what I mean?”
“ I will never, ever, go back upon the water. Never!” Van Clynne’s teeth tapped out a staccato death march. “Noah himself could grab me by both legs and I would not yield.”
“ Isn’t that Noah up ahead?”
“ Your jests are not appreciated, sir. Not appreciated at all. What’s more, they are not funny. Perhaps you should try some other target for your little comedies.”
“ Claus, you’re taking things much too seriously,” said Jake. He’d wrung his clothes out as best he could, but they were still damp. “Relax now. Tell me about Bouwerie Village.”
“ I will not, sir: there is nothing to tell.”
Van Clynne’s face turned white and he began hyperventilating. Jake feared a heart attack.
Not at all. The good squire was merely about to sneeze.
The resulting explosion trumpeted through the hills with the force of an eighteen-pounder, scattering birds and small animals in its wake. Not even the famed proboscis of Antony van Corlear, Henry Hudson’s trumpeter for whom Anthony’s Nose farther north is named, could have made such a stupendous honk. This sneeze was followed in rapid succession by two smaller ones. Smaller only in proportion to the first; by themselves they were most impressive, and had Jake not witnessed their predecessor, he would have run for cover.
“ God bless you.”
“ And now I have a cold, and it will be on me all summer. Infernal water.”
“ I’m surprised you’re not bragging about Manhattan,” said Jake, trying to put his companion in the more optimistic frame their success required by changing the subject. “I’ve heard its purchase described as the greatest land deal of the century. And it was executed by a Dutchman.”
“ Minuit was a phony and a crook. He didn’t even deal with the proper Indians.”
“ You’re speaking ill of a Dutchman? This is a new development.”
“ You should check your facts before you taunt me, sir. Your Mr. Minuit was borne on the Rhine in Wesel. That is a far pace from Amsterdam, I do believe.”
“ Wasn’t he working for the Dutch West India Company?”
“ I could work for the emperor of China. Would that give me slanted eyes?”
“ Maybe.”
“ Speak seriously, sir. Minuit went on to establish New Sweden. Do you think a Dutchman would ever be involved in such ridiculousness?”
“ Why is it ridiculous?”
“ Baths at every house! Baths in the middle of winter! If that is not the most foolish race on earth, I am sadly mistaken.”
We will leave the Dutch squire and his wet prejudices briefly to address another injustice, this one leveled against those of van Clynne’s own heritage and, by extension, all who have ever lived on Manhattan island. It concerns the name of the place itself. Now it will be observed that “Manhattan” is an unusual name, one with little precedent in Europe, Asia, or Africa. The thoughtful reader will therefore conclude that it must have originated in America herself, most likely with the original inhabitants. In that, the reader will be largely correct, as the name appears to be an emendation of an Indian word that sounded, to European ears, as “Mana-ha-ta.”
So far, no harm done. But an English writer — nothing less could be expected from such a quarter — early put out the rumor that the original meant “orgy” and so dressed this up with wild explanations — midnight sojourns with men, women and goats the mildest — that the word soon went around that Manhattan was Sodom on the Hudson, a place worthy of a heavenly thunderbolt.
This jealousy dates from the time when the settlement at the base of the island was called New Amsterdam, and the official language Dutch, not English. But the English’s subsequent possession did little to quash the rumor, and throughout the Old World and a great deal of the new, the rumors grew like ragweed. New York is supposed to be the center of wickedness, with not only orgies, but men literally flying hither and thither at a moment’s notice, propelled by the devil underground. It is supposed to be a place where women paint their faces as if they were men, and walk about with pantaloons beneath their dresses, while their husbands communicate through secret stones with their wizardly fellows all across town.
Nothing could be further from the truth. The city Jake and van Clynne were now rapidly approaching was one of the finest in America, with wide, paved streets and a massive skyline three or four stories high. The city’s progressiveness was shown not only by its pavement stones — few if any places in Europe could boast as many paved roads — but by the lamps hanging from its posts.
These had been lit a full hour or more as Jake and van Clynne passed the British artillery encampment above Dove Tavern on the road from King’s Bridge. General Howes’ headquarters in the Beekman Mansion lay ahead, overlooking Turtle Bay.
The baby was near America’s most ignominious defeat the previous fall — but that would be too depressing for our heroes to recall that event at the present.
Jake paused just before the path that ran to the mansion’s front door. He could not see the soldiers who were guarding it, though he knew they would be there.
“ Now, just give him the bullet and be gone,” said Jake.
“ You’re not coming in with me?”
“ I told you, there’s too much chance someone who knows me will see me and ask questions. Besides, it’ll only take you a minute. If there are any generals with Howe, bow to them and quickly take your leave.“
“ I’d sooner kneel to a milk cow.”
“ Don’t do anything to insult them. Act like they’re your superiors.” Jake ignored the Dutchman’s frown. “Give the bullet only to Howe. And if you meet a general named Bacon — run, do not walk, out of the house.”
“ Who is he?”
“ Howe’s intelligence chief and the head of their Secret Department in America. A very nasty breed. Their people tried to kill me on Lake George.”
“ What!”
“ Relax. The assassin was probably assigned by Carleton. Bacon doesn’t know me.”
“ How can you be sure?”
“ One more thing, Claus — if they ask for your signifier, tell them you were robbed along the way.”
“ My signifier?”
“ The messengers carry tokens for identification. Herstraw has a coin, so I assume they’re all using something similar.”
“ What kind of coin?”
“ I didn’t get a good look at it. It doesn’t matter; yours would probably be different.”
“ Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“ It’s nothing. Just say you were robbed. The bullet’s your identification.”
“ Not exactly, though the guards who accompanied van Clynne to the door were impressed by the clipped doubloon he managed to dredge from his stocking at their lieutenant’s third request. The Dutchman whizzed it so quickly beneath the man’s nose when he asked for his sign that it might have seemed like a flash of light — but of course one would expect the squire to be deft with his cash.
Alas, the general was not at his headquarters. According to the lieutenant, he was attending to business at Fort George, and would probably be found in a house on Pearl Street across the way.
Van Clynne expressed sincere regret that he would not leave his message with the lieutenant. He also declined his offer of an escort, and rejoined Jake at the edge of the roadway.
“ It’ll be easier there,” said Jake, starting down the road. “Most likely he has some appointment with his mistress, Mrs. Loring. The guards will be well-liquored in that case, and I doubt they’ll even ask for an identifier.”
“ You may save your assurances for another fool,” said van Clynne. “I have found a Spanish coin that will serve my purpose. Really, I wish you would see to all of the contingencies the next time you involve me in a plot. I am used to maintaining certain standards.”
Jake let van Clynne complain until they reached the point at which Queen Street meets Hanover Square, very close to their destination.
“ Your orders are specific,” he reminded the Dutchman. “No one but General Howe himself. If he’s here for the reason I suspect, he’ll be in a poor mood and anxious to return to his lover. Remember that he issued a similar order to have Herstraw see Burgoyne personally, so stand your ground.”
A Dutchman always stands his ground. Just remember that you’re to help me get mine back at the conclusion of this adventure.”
Van Clynne dismounted and walked forward along Pearl Street. A detachment of foot soldiers from the Thirty-fifth Regiment stood at the end, on special duty guarding Howe’s temporary headquarters. These redcoats were more brown-colored than red, due to the inferior dye used in their jacket’s manufacture — a matter which van Clynne implied could be easily remedied for the right price.
“ Move along, thief,” said their sergeant indignantly.
His honor besmirched, van Clynne demanded to see the general immediately.
“ Which general is that?”
“ General Howe,” retorted the squire, “unless he had gone and gotten himself sacked, as generals are so often in the habit of doing.”
“ And who are you?”
“ You don’t recognize me?
“Recognize you?”
Van Clynne gave out a harrumph that attracted the attention of half the sows running wild in the nearby street.
“ I will have you know, Sergeant, that I have just now come down from Canada on a mission from General Burgoyne — another one who’s always changing posts — and have express orders to deliver a bullet to General Howe.”
At this, the soldiers jumped to attention, their bayonets in a threatening position.
“ This bullet, you fools. It has a message.”
“ I’ll take that,” offered the sergeant, but van Clynne was too quick for him; the bullet disappeared up his sleeve.
“ I’ll not give the message to anyone but the man assigned to receive it,” said the Dutchman, “any you’re not he.”
“ We haven’t used coins such as this since we abandoned Boston.”
“ They’re all we use in Canada these days,” said van Clynne, grabbing it back. “We have confused the rebels by reverting to the old style.”
The sergeant was not impressed. “Give me your message or I’ll slap you in chains.”
“ My orders are quite specific,” answered van Clynne, producing a paper from his pocket.
“ This paper is blank,” said the sergeant.
“ To you. It’s written in invisible ink, in the contingency that I should fall into the hands of the enemy. We’re not fools in the messenger’s corps, you know.”
“ Fie!”
“ I’ve heard of such things,” one of the guards told his sergeant. “You hold it up to the fire and writing appears.”
“ If you hold this up to the fire, it’ll burn,” said van Clynne. “It needs to be treated with a special liquid, and then the message appears for only a brief moment.”
The sergeant was momentarily befuddled, and held the paper up to see if he could see anything.”
“ You may do your duty as you see fit,” van Clynne said as he snatched back the paper, “as long as General Howe knows that it was you who prevented me from seeing him.”
The sergeant, suspicious as he was, was no match for van Clynne at the game of bluff. The Dutchman turned on his heel and took but a short step away before the sergeant reached out and touched his shoulder. The soldier’s manner turned cajoling and pleasant, cooperative to a fault.
“ I’d be happy to take you to see the general myself, sir,” said the sergeant, “but he’s spending the night in the harbor aboard his brother Admiral Howe’s flagship. Business of a, shall we say, personal nature? Orders are that he’s not to be disturbed by anyone tonight, not even the king.”
“ Aboard ship? In the water?”
“ It’s a most convenient place for a boat.”
“ Well,” said van Clynne, reconsidering his position. “I suppose this can wait. It’s just a little message; nothing important. I’ll take it to him when he returns.”
“ Hold on, sir,” said the sergeant, his touch know a firm grip arresting van Clynne’s rapid retreat. “We’re not expecting him on land tomorrow. I will have two of my men guard you until you row out to the general in the morning.”
“ Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said van Clynne. “Not necessary at all. I can quite take care of myself.”
“ I insist,” said the sergeant, signaling two men over with his head. “There are still many rebel scum in this city. They may be lurking close by even now.”
Van Clynne took a quick look around. He knew Jake was in the shadows somewhere, but the patriot was conducting his lurking in a most discreet manner, leaving van Clynne to improvise on his own.
“ Thank you for your hospitality, Sergeant. Perhaps your men will accompany me to a tavern for a light supper. Have they eaten already?”
“ We had our dinners at two, sir,” said the soldier nearest him, “but have been starving ever since.”
“ Well then, come one,” said van Clynne. “If there’s one thing I know about, it’s food. And you, Sergeant?”
“ I regret that I have duty here. But Robert and Horace will take care of you.”
“ Horace. Is that a Dutch name by chance?”
“ No, sir,” replied the soldier as they started down the street together.
“ Too bad, lad, too bad.”
Jake watched the procession pass him from a distance of about half a block. He had not been close enough to overhear the conversation, but it seemed obvious enough what had transpired — van Clynne had been apprehended and was on his way to be interrogated at the guardhouse. He cursed himself for letting the poor Dutchman play a role he would have been much better suited for. He could easily have fobbed off some story for anyone who might have recognized him, or thought he recognized him. Hadn’t he recently bluffed his way past all of Montreal? His caution had only made the situation several times as precarious.
Jake was just wondering if he dared slip away and get assistance from some local allies when the soldiers and their charge made a sudden detour into a public house. This breach of duty provided a perfect opportunity, if he could act quickly. Jake trotted up behind, paused at the door to collect his breath, and then plunged inside.
Into an impromptu gathering of General Sir Henry “Black Clay” Bacon’s intelligence staff, hosted by the notorious general himself.