The Messenger Page 10
“Hannah?”
I nudged past the guard toward my brother’s voice.
The guard caught me by the arm. “Can’t go in. Not allowed.”
“But I’ve things for him.”
“Hannah! Is that thee?”
He forced me back behind him. “No mixing with the prisoners.”
“Then let him come out.” I needed to see him!
He pushed me back into the hall and disappeared inside, reappearing a moment later, dragging Robert by the elbow. My brother collapsed into my arms.
“But—he’s sick!”
“Not so bad as some of the others. I’ll give you two minutes.” He retreated down the hall, taking the light with him. Robert was here, yet those feelings of gnawing hunger and bitter cold had not yet abated. I took up one of his hands in mine. His flesh was chill; to clasp his fingers felt like grasping at bones.
“Thee came.”
I helped him to the wall where he sunk to the floor. I knelt beside him. “Of course I came. Just as soon as I could. I had to get a pass first.” I held the bottle of wine to his lips.
He swallowed and then he took another drink.
“I brought bread. And some linens.”
He didn’t take any of them. Instead, he took up my hand in his. “Do they know I’m here?”
I didn’t have to ask of whom he spoke. “Yes.”
“Do they know thee are here?”
“No.”
“It was the right thing to do, joining the army. Thee know that, don’t thee?” He squeezed my hand so hard I feared he’d crush it.
“Yes.” It had been the right thing; I’d never doubted it. “But . . . I worry for thee.” And even more now than before. How could anyone survive such deprivation?
“It’s the same here as it was in camp. No blankets. No wood.” He’d let his head fall back against the wall.
No blankets? “But are they feeding thee?”
“Never enough. Twice, three times a week.”
What? “But General Washington isn’t letting any food come into the city. Most of the farmers haven’t been to the market in months. It’s because the general’s keeping it all for thee! Thee were supposed to be the fortunate ones!”
Robert began to laugh, but it ended in a spasm of coughing. “If he’s taken it all, one thing’s for certain: He’s not sharing.”
I didn’t understand. How could the soldiers in the rebels’ camp be in such dire straits if they were keeping all the food for themselves?
He put a hand out toward the linens. “For me?”
“Aye! All of it is for thee.” If only I’d known he had nothing. I’d been worried about whether he had linens to wash himself when I ought to have wondered if he had a blanket or shoes.
“Two minutes!” I heard the guard start for us and could see the specter of the candle as he approached.
Robert squeezed my hand once more. “Tell Betsy . . . tell her . . .”
I bent to embrace him. “Thee must—” What? Take care of himself in this foul and odious place? It was plain he could do nothing on behalf of himself.
“Time’s up.” The guard grabbed Robert by the elbow and pulled him to standing, unlocked the door, and tossed him inside. Then he held up his ring of keys and gave it a jingle. “I’ve food for any who will change sides and fight for the King.”
Was the guard trying to bribe them into discarding their loyalties?
I heard my brother groan and then cough. Heard others join in coughing along with him. How many of them were there in that cell?
None replied to the guard’s offer. He shook his head as he locked the door. I followed him down the hall, passing ten doors before we reached the end. Just how many prisoners were they keeping in this jail?
When we gained the end of the hall, the guard knocked on the door. The bolt shrieked as it slid through its casing, and then the door swung open. The first guard greeted me, licking his fingers. “So you saw him, then.”
“I did. I shall come again, soon.” I said it more as a promise to myself than to warn the man.
He shrugged. “It’s nothing to me. But bring more of that cheese with you next time. I liked it.”
I met Doll at the bottom of the jail’s steps. We were not two paces from the place before I retched. I retched until my stomach had no more to offer and then I retched some more. The guard marching sentry duty saw me, and he turned before he had walked the length of his circuit.
Doll sighed as she unfastened the apron beneath her cloak. She handed it to me. “Don’t know what good comes from going into a place like that. Just look at the hem of your gown. And your shoes. Mercy, but you stink!”
I took one deep shuddering breath, trying hard not to think of the things that I had heard and seen. But it was no use. “They keep prisoners down there in the basement like . . . like animals!”
“We got to clean you up before you go back into the house. Davy finds out I let you go someplace like that, it’d be my head along with yours. That’s for certain.”
“They’ve no food. No fires.”
“We’ll clean you up in the stables.”
“Who knows how many of them there are!”
“I can fetch another of your gowns, and if we do it quick, ain’t no one going to see us.”
“Aren’t thee listening? Don’t thee hear what I’m saying?”
“I’m hearing that you good and mad. And plenty scared. But this is a war, not one of you folks’ tea parties. People’s dying. You don’t know cruel until your family be taken to live ten miles away from where you are. So when you’re ready to start talking ’bout things I can do something about, then I’ll start to listen.”
When you’re ready to start talking about things I can do something about . . .
I had been charged to do something for someone. I’d gone down into that pit of misery to see Robert. But with the sheer horror of the place, with the slim margin of time I’d been allowed, and with the dreadful condition of my brother . . . I’d forgotten to do what I’d agreed to. The message for William Addison was still tucked away in my pocket. And I dared not think what Jeremiah Jones would have to say about it.
14
Jeremiah
“What do you mean you couldn’t deliver the message? Was he not there?” Wouldn’t it be just my luck if Sgt. Addison had already died! I drew Hannah from the street over into a shadowed alley. It wouldn’t do for any to overhear our words.
She bit at her lip. “I do not know.”
“You don’t know.” The girl was beginning to exasperate me. Even more than she had in the past. “Because . . . ?”
“Because the men are separated into rooms. I asked for Robert, so they took me to his room.”
“And William Addison wasn’t in it.” I hadn’t thought of that. If I were going to be a spy, I needed to start thinking like one!
“I . . . don’t know.”
If I yelled at her the way I wanted to, I wasn’t sure I would be able to ask her to do anything at all for me again. Something about the way she held herself demanded respect. And vast reserves of patience. “All right. Fine. Let’s come at this from a different tack. What do you know?”
“I know that the guard who keeps the keys is a bully. I know that there are many more men in each room than there should be. They have little in the way of food, wood, or blankets.”
“The guard is a bully.” That I could have told her without ever setting foot inside the jail.
“The one who keeps the keys. And the other, the one who keeps the door, demanded that I give him the cheese I’d brought for Robert!” The flush that rode her cheeks had deepened with each word.
A man who was amenable to graft. Perhaps he could be bribed. A good thing to know, though it didn’t help at the moment. “So you don’t know if Sgt. Addison is in the same room as Robert?”
She shook her head.
“And you also don’t know where else he might—or might not—be?”
; She shook her head.
“You don’t know, in fact, if he’s there at all.”
A bit of fight had come into her eyes. “And how was I to discover it? Did thee want me to ask?”
“No. Yes.” Blast it! There was a prison break being planned that the prisoners knew nothing about. And the whole of it depended upon them digging a tunnel. I closed my eyes against a worsening ache in my head. “Fine. Fine.” Everything was fine. “You’ll just have to wait a week until—”
“A week! But Robert is ill. I have to visit again tomorrow.”
“No one has visited that jail since November. How is it going to look if you suddenly begin visiting every day? And what would your parents say?”
“Do thee know what it’s like in there?”
I could guess. “Next Saturday. That’s when you should return.”
“That’s a whole—”
“Seven days. Yes. I know. You’ll go on Saturday, you’ll find out which room Sgt. Addison is in, and you’ll contrive to deliver the message.”
“Or . . . ?” The word rang with challenge.
“Or you might as well buy your brother a coffin. Unless he’s in on the escape, chances are he won’t come out of that jail alive.”
The following Saturday I walked up Walnut Street at half past four as Hannah walked down. We met at Fourth Street.
She paused just a moment as we passed. “William Addison wasn’t in Robert’s room, but I asked my brother to find out where he is. The next time I visit I will try to pass the message. But it would be easier if they were in the same room.”
And it would certainly be easier if I didn’t have to depend upon a girl to carry my messages.
“The escape will happen soon, won’t it?”
“As soon as it can.” As soon as they dug that infernal tunnel. They were already behind schedule.
“I think . . .”
“What?” Soon someone was bound to notice that we had paused.
“They don’t have much food.”
Much food? “How much is not much?”
“They’re only being fed two or three times each week.”
“Sometimes prisoners complain—”
“And sometimes they die from starvation!” Her eyes were blazing with fire.
Starving prisoners weren’t likely to be able to dig their way to freedom. “I’ll have a bag of grain delivered to Pennington House. Can you smuggle in five pounds?”
“I can smuggle in ten.”
I rather doubted it. “I’ll have it delivered to . . . ?”
“To the stables. At half past three. Every seventh day.”
“Every Saturday, then.”
I watched her as she continued on down Walnut Street. If she weren’t so completely irritating, there might be something to admire in the lift of her chin. And in the determination that burned in her eyes.
“How is the courtship progressing?”
I started at the sound of John’s voice. “Courtship! What? Of her?”
“Come, Jonesy! Any man can see that you fancy her.”
“I don’t—” I bit back my words. If I was too convincing in my argument, then I would talk myself right out of my best ally.
“Tell Johnny what’s the matter, then.”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Then why are you staring at her as if she’s gone and dashed all your plans?”
Because she had.
“I’ve a way with the girls. I’m sure I could fix whatever’s gone wrong between you.”
I eyed him, wondering if perhaps he was right. Maybe he could fix everything. I let him lead me into my own tavern and then I let him order me up a drink.
“Now. Tell me the whole story.”
I shrugged as I tried to figure out how best to put him to use. Took a drink. Then another.
“Just say it, man!” Patience had never been his long suit.
“It’s her brother.”
“The rebel one?”
“The same.”
A furrow etched his brow. “She visited him, didn’t she?”
“Aye.”
“So she ought to be happy.”
“He’s complaining about this thing and that.” I tried to sound as if his complaints had no merit.
“He is in prison.”
“Which is what I told her. It’s not as if a man should expect to be treated as a gentleman when he betrays his King. General Howe might want to feed them now and then, though. Wouldn’t do to have the prison population die of starvation.”
“They’ll die soon enough of putrid fever or dysentery.”
My brow rose of its own volition.
“It’s going around. Again. So what has this to do with Miss Sunderland?”
“She thinks I ought to ask you to have him moved.”
“Moved? As if I were the general himself!” He smiled, seemingly bemused at the thought. I knew him well enough to know that he dreamed of being one someday.
“That’s what I told her.” I shook my head as if trying to rid myself of a disagreeable conversation. Then took another drink.
“To where?”
“To where, what?”
“Where did she want him moved?”
“Oh! Well, now. It’s rather complicated. I don’t know if I quite remember. There’s a cousin in the jail as well. Third or fourth. William something or other . . . Addison. That’s it: William Addison. Some distant relation. In any case, that’s where she’d want him to be. In this Addison’s room.”
“Why?”
“He’s a sergeant. She thinks her brother will get better treatment. But I told her . . .” I shrugged. “What can you expect if you take up arms against your King? What can any of them expect?”
“Traitors. They should all be hanged.”
“Exactly. I don’t see why she ought to have gone all peevish when I only told her the truth.” I tried to look exceedingly glum.
“That’s the problem with women. They refuse to see the truth, though it bite them on the nose.”
I shrugged. “That’s that, then.”
He eyed me over the rim of his mug. “She means that much to you?”
I held up my empty sleeve. “I don’t have many prospects.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do.”
“You don’t have to—”
“What’s the good of working for a general if you can’t intervene for a friend?” He was looking as if he might just do what I had asked. Rather, what he thought Hannah had asked.
“Just make certain—I mean—he’s not my brother.”
“Don’t worry. The general understands the affairs of the heart.”
Of course he did. Wasn’t he being bedded this winter by the delectable Mrs. Loring? As her husband counted the coin the arrangement had brought him? Another of the British army’s commendable traditions. Rewarding the married woman’s husband with favors. It was all so . . . respectable.
So respectably repugnant.
One more reason to despise them. Their officers and everything they stood for had gone rotten at the core.
John had fallen into the habit of supping at the King’s Arms, drinking heavily with his meal. The next Friday evening he rose from his table uncharacteristically early. “Time to be off.” He stumbled as he pushed from the table. Put a hand to it for support.
I crossed the room to steady him. “Aren’t you eating here tonight?”
“Can’t. I promised the lovely Miss Pennington that I would attend her party.”
Hannah’s cousin? Again? She didn’t need to get caught up in John’s vices. “What harm would it do to sober up a bit before you go?”
“And remember why I can’t make love to her in earnest?” He put a hand up to his wig, searching for the ribbon that bound his queue. Squared his shoulders. “Right then. Let’s be off.”
I handed him his hat.
He set it atop his curls. Glanced at me. “Where’s yours?”
“My what?”
“You’re the one who’s been invited, not I.”
“I told her we’d both come.”
“Then you told her in error and you can apologize for yourself when you see her.” If he was sober enough to remember.
“No, no. I always did best you in etiquette.”
“Though I beat you in charm.”
“Pity, ’tis true. Ah well.” He jammed his hand into the small of my back and nearly pitched me over with the gesture. “Where are your rooms, then?”
“They’re up the stair in the back. Why?”
“I’ve taken it upon myself as a challenge to see if I can’t bring the old Jeremiah Jones back to life.” He stiff-armed me toward the stair as he spoke.
“The old Jeremiah Jones is gone.”
“Bah! He’s just gone into hiding. I’m going to coax him out with some dancing and flirting. We’ll have Miss Sunderland blushing at your every glance before long.”
I had to take his arm to keep him upright. “You’re in no condition for dancing.”
“Then perhaps I shall just lure Miss Pennington into a dark corner and kiss her.”
“Her father is one of the pillars of this city.”
“Isn’t a fellow allowed to dream now and then?”
I stopped in front of my door but kept him pinned to the wall with my shoulder so he wouldn’t slide down onto his face.
“Is this it?”
“This is it.” I put my key in the lock and shoved open the door.
He pushed me aside and threw his hat on my writing table, then lurched into the middle of the room and surveyed the place, hands at his hips.
I went to the hearth and stirred up the fire. Taking a taper from its holder, I lit it.
John snatched it from me and went to examine the coats that were hanging on pegs.
“Haven’t you got anything in yellow? Or English blue?”
Yellow? Blue? I turned to look at him. “Why should I?”
“Because what you’ve got is ten seasons old. Brown? And what do you call this?” He turned so the light from the taper would fall on the fabric. “Goose-dropping green? My granny used to wear a gown this color.”