The Saintly Buccaneer Read online

  “Is it well with thee, Julie?”

  “Yes, very well. Now, you take this young woman along. I’ll be all right,” she added quickly, seeing Charity hesitate. “Nathan will be here in a few minutes.”

  “He’s on his way,” Greene informed her. “I thought Miss Alden might like to go to our service. His Excellency will be there—in fact, the whole Army will be attending.”

  “Preach the word, Friend Dan,” Julie smiled. “Go along, both of you.”

  They moved outside and headed for the drill ground just as Nathan came hurrying along with Dr. Bergen. The snow had stopped and now reflected a ruby glow as the sun cast its first rays over the mountains. The shadows lay like long fingers over the camp, dark and sinister at first, but as they moved out of the heavy timber onto the flat plain used as a drill field by the troops, the light swelled into a brilliant display of color—blue-white ice, dark green firs, the crimson reflections of the sun on the snow, and overhead a sky that was for the first time in days a delicate pale blue instead of iron gray.

  The Army had already arrived, closely packed in a fanshaped formation. “There it is,” Greene commented quietly. “The Continental Army of the United States.”

  “It’s not very big, is it, Friend Dan?”

  “No. Not big.” He led her to where the officers were mounted in a cluster, then added clearly, “Not many, Miss Alden. But it’s all pure grain—the chaff has been blown away. These are the men—these pitiful few—who will make this nation free, or it will become a slavish colony forever.”

  He said no more but led her to a small platform in the center of the semicircle made by the troops. She could see Washington clearly, and once again she was struck by the massive presence of the man. His eyes, she saw, were fixed on the ranks, and she knew, as did the men, that he was weighing the possibilities. Would they be enough? Would they stand fast? Would they stay when the skies were falling?

  The other officers, including von Steuben, Mad Anthony Wayne, and Hamilton, never took their eyes off their commander. They waited, and finally Washington began to speak. His voice, rising and falling in even cadences, carried clearly across the open space to the rear ranks. When he spoke of “our country,” there was something in the way he said it that made every man on that frozen field believe it was true.

  They were starving, freezing, dead with fatigue. They had been deserted by their supporters, cornered and beaten by the British, scorned by the powerful nations of the world—but when Washington said our country, they believed it. There was a meaning to their suffering, and as Washington spoke simply of their sacrifice and of the suffering yet to come, they accepted it because he said so.

  It was simple, Charity saw at once. Washington was the keystone to the arch; he held the Army together, and without him the whole experiment in democracy would fall to ruins.

  Then he said, “And now, our chaplain will speak to us, to all of us. May Almighty God, who rules over this new nation as He rules over the stars in their courses, bless his words to our hearing.”

  Dan Greene stepped forward, opened his Bible, and read the words:

  Behold, a king shall reign in righteousness, and princes shall rule in judgment. And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.

  Raising his head, he lifted up his voice and began to preach. “This scripture refers to the Lord Jesus Christ. One day He will come. Kingdoms may rise and fall, but He will come. That is the one certain thing in this earth—that one day the earth will be under the authority of Him who can do no wrong.” Then he stopped, and when he paused, the silence was almost palpable in its intensity.

  “But until He comes, the Lord of Glory,” he cried out suddenly in a tone that rang like a great bell over the frozen ground, “we are men who must occupy this earth—and we believe that He, this almighty God who will come, wants us to live as free men and not as serfs!”

  Charity stood there transfixed. This was no sermon delivered as a religious duty by a hired parson! It was a prophetic cry from the heart of one man, but it caught the hungers of all who listened; and as Dan Greene spoke of God’s love and purpose, he forged it to the cause for liberty for which these men were asked to lay down their lives.

  She couldn’t remember much of the sermon, but she would never forgot that scene—never! Washington, his face set like a flint, staring out at the troops. The ragged, bearded men with hollow eyes grown suddenly bright with hope. The hush that was broken by Greene’s voice—and the ragged but powerful Amen that went up as he closed with prayer. She was certain that when she became an old woman, she would see this scene as sharply and clearly in her mind’s eye as she had seen it with her physical eyes just now.

  Commands were given, the troops were dismissed, and Dan came to stand beside her. “I expect thee is cold.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She hesitated, then said, “I—I thought your sermon was moving.”

  He didn’t answer, but took her arm and they made their way back to the hut. He seemed to be constrained, so she remained silent, but as they came in sight of the hut, he lifted his head quickly. “Look! There’s Nathan—something’s happened!”

  He broke into a run, and Nathan shouted as he saw them, “He’s here! By the good Lord—he’s here!”

  He was laughing, tears running down his face as Greene caught him in a bear hug, and the two of them danced around in the snow.

  Dr. Bergen came outside, considered the two big men waltzing in the snow, and remarked with a grin, “Pair of blasted fools!” But there was light in his small eyes, and he nodded to Charity, “Go on in and greet the newest member of the House of Winslow.”

  Julie was sitting up, holding a white bundle. “Come and see him, Charity,” she called, her eyes bright with joy.

  Hesitantly, Charity approached the bed. As she knelt and Julie pulled the blanket back, she exclaimed, “Oh, he’s got red hair!”

  “Yes,” Nathan voiced from behind her. “And he’s got a name, too.”

  “A name?” Charity asked. “What is it?”

  Julie had a playful look in her eyes, and she reached out to take Nathan’s hand as she announced, “His name is Christmas. Christmas Winslow.”

  “Christmas?” Charity smiled. “What a wonderful name! I never heard of a man named Christmas.”

  “He came on Christmas—and the Lord has promised me that he’ll be a blessing to his people—just as the Lord Jesus came to be.”

  Charity’s eyes filled with tears and she put out a timid hand and stroked the fine red hair. “Christmas Winslow—may you be as good a man as your father and your grandfather!”

  “Amen!” Dan Greene affirmed fervently, which was echoed by the rest as they sat gazing at the newest arrival at Valley Forge—and wondering what his life would be like.

  CHAPTER SIX

  RING OUT THE OLD

  “He’ll make a fine American—and from the sound of that crying, he’s got the lungs to be a preacher as well!”

  Charity pressed herself against the rough log wall and stared at General Washington. If the room had seemed small before, now the general’s bulk seemed to take all the available space. He was standing in the center of the floor, his head almost brushing the shakes of the ceiling, smiling down at Julie, who was holding the baby up for him to admire.

  Christmas Winslow was the only person in the room not impressed with the imposing stature of General George Washington. He had just had his meal cut short, and his face was red with rage as he protested vigorously. Washington put out a finger gingerly, and the flailing hand of the baby encountered it, grasped it, and to everyone’s surprise, Christmas stopped crying.

  “You have a way with babies, Your Excellency,” the tall, bald man standing to one side commented. This was Daniel’s uncle, General Nathaniel Greene, one of Washington’s most trusted officers.

  Washington raised his head at Greene’s
statement, then looked back at the baby, saying with a wistful look in his gray eyes, “I love children.” He said no more, but Charity knew, as did the others, that the great sorrow of his life was his lack of sons.

  It had been a shock to Charity when she had opened the door to find the general standing there that morning. He had greeted her warmly by name and thanked her again for the supplies. She was not accustomed to the attention of famous men, and none was more famous than Washington. He was, she was amazed to find, a simple man. Though the richest man in America, yet he had laid his position and his fortune on the line for the cause of liberty. As he spoke with Nathan and Julie, Charity watched him intently and was taken off guard when he turned and faced her, saying, “I understand you’re a ship owner, Miss Alden.”

  “Why—yes, sir. My people have always been sailors.”

  He began asking her about the ship, about cargoes and speed, and she answered his steady flow of questions a little bewildered. Once she glanced at Daniel and saw a faint smile on his face, but she had no time to think of that.

  Finally Washington paused and looked at her silently, with some of the same calculation in his eyes that she’d noted when he’d looked at the troops during the Christmas service. The room was silent save for the small whistle of a teakettle on the small hearth. Finally he spoke. “I am become a beggar, Miss Alden.”

  “A beggar, Your Excellency?”

  “Yes, a beggar.” A bitterness ran along the edge of the general’s thin lips, and he added curtly, “I must go with my hat in my hand to our Congress for the bare necessities of life for my poor men—”

  “And often as not, they keep you waiting like some peasant!” Greene exploded. “It’s an outrage, sir, an outrage!”

  “I am the servant of the Congress, General Greene,” Washington rebuked the older man gently, then fixed his eyes on Charity. “A ship is on its way from France with a hold full of supplies—cannon, powder, muskets, food—everything an army needs!”

  “That’s Franklin’s work, I’d warrant!” Daniel exclaimed.

  “Yes. He worked like a slave to get these supplies—and now it may all be wasted.” He stopped and looked straight into Charity’s eyes, adding slowly, “Unless we can find a Patriot who will help us. A Patriot with a fast ship.”

  It was all clear to Charity then, for she knew that the British fleet had sewn a tight web around the coast of America with the intent of strangling the flickering revolution by a blockade. It had been, she knew as well, a successful move, for the British Navy was paramount among the navies of the world. There had been no losses on the British side in single ship actions, so it was taken for granted that England’s fleet was invincible.

  There was only one thing the general could mean, and Charity voiced it. “You want me to bring the supplies to our shores at Boston?”

  “Yes. The French ship cannot be caught even close to our shores,” Washington nodded, pleased with her alertness. “The best we could do is arrange to send a ship to Port-au-Prince and transfer the supplies.”

  “Why, we make that run several times a year, Your Excellency,” Charity replied, quickly analyzing the best routes and anticipating the dangers. “It would be no trick at all for The Gallant Lady.”

  “If the British stop you,” Washington insisted with a warning shake of his heavy head, “your ship will be seized. You’ll lose her.”

  Charity laughed at the idea. “Those wallowing hulks catch my ship? Not in a million years.”

  Washington was still apprehensive. “The Army must have food, clothing, and weapons. I’ve made General Greene quartermaster. If you feel you can do this, work it out with him. We have little to offer you in the way of reward, but if the gratitude of one old soldier is of any value to you, Miss Alden, you will have my heartfelt thanks—and that of my men.”

  For some reason, the simple words brought tears to Charity’s eyes, for she knew this man would die before asking anything for himself. She blinked the tears back and stated, “Sir, if my father will agree, we will get your supplies.” Then she added as an afterthought, “And Father usually lets me have my own way.”

  A laugh went up and Charity blushed, but the general nodded with a soft smile, saying just as he turned to go, “I believe, Miss Alden, that most of us men would let you have your own way. God bless you.”

  Washington turned and left, followed closely by the two Greenes, and as soon as the door slammed shut, the baby set up a howl that stopped the moment Julie began to feed him. Nathan smiled at the pair. Turning to Charity, he asked, “Do you really think you might be able to get those supplies?”

  “Don’t see why not. Like I told the general, no Britisher can catch the Lady. Besides, they’ll never suspect our cargo, because they’re used to seeing us make voyages in that area.”

  Nathan grinned at her. “You sure are a better looking sailor than any I’ve ever laid eyes on, Charity.”

  ****

  For three days Charity did little but ponder Washington’s words. She helped Julie with the baby, but that young woman made such an astonishing recovery that by the last day of the year, she was able to carry on without help.

  All morning on the thirty-first, Charity walked around the camp, being greeted constantly by the soldiers who had come to recognize her. The sight of a woman was a rare thing, and more than once she had seen the ugly face of lust, but every soldier in the Continental Army knew with an iron certainty that the man who touched Charity Alden would hang in the cold wind the next day.

  She stood and watched as Baron von Steuben, that strange import from Europe, drilled a picked squad on a hard-packed field of snow. He howled and wept and cursed in German, and the men laughed at him, and then he would laugh at himself. But Charity had heard Major Winslow say, “That fat Prussian has made soldiers out of them! They’ll never break and run again!”

  During the afternoon, Charity walked along the perimeters of the camp, staring at the miserable huts and tattered tents, gazing from time to time into the hungry eyes of a sentry or some of the men on wood detail, wondering why they stayed.

  The sun paled and seemed to cast no heat on the frozen ground as she finally returned late in the afternoon, weary from the overwhelming situation. A resolve had come to her, and the import of her decision brought no comfort, for she had seen neighbors and relatives who had paid a heavy price for throwing their strength into the battle for freedom.

  Deep in thought as she walked, she was unaware of anyone until a shadow came across her path. Looking up, she saw that Dan Greene was standing patiently with his hands in his pockets. Something about his attitude told her he had been waiting for her.

  “Getting dark, Miss Alden.”

  She fell in beside him, and he spoke of casual things, but finally he stopped and she halted as well, looking up at him.

  “Has thee made up thy mind?”

  “Yes—but how’d you know?” she asked.

  “Ah, now, that’s not been too hard.” He kicked the snow off one of his boots, lifted his eyes, and gave her that gentle smile so often seen in his strong features. “Thee has been walking around for three days now practically talking to thyself. But I know what thee is going to do, Charity.”

  His use of her given name surprised and pleased her somehow, and she smiled up at him. “Oh, do you now, Dan? And what am I going to do?”

  “Why, thee is going to get the supplies for the general,” he answered and laughed at her expression, adding, “And I am going with thee!”

  “What!”

  “Surely thee didn’t think the general would let thee go alone?”

  “I don’t need any help!”

  He stared at her, shaking his head. “Oh, there’s no doubt thee would do it, but my uncle is the quartermaster of the Continental Army, and he’s assigned me to be liaison officer in this matter.”

  It irked Charity to see the assurance in Greene’s face. She had made up her mind to go, but there had been nothing said about taking anyone al
ong. She had spent years proving that she was as good a sailor as any man, and now it seemed that she had to prove it to the Continental Army. “Take you along? Are you a sailor? Can you skip up a foremast and set a top gallant? Can you navigate?”

  He shrugged, ignoring her flash of anger, and admitted, “I’m no sailor, Charity. Matter of fact, the only time I ever got in a boat bigger than our little fishing skiff, I got so sick I couldn’t hold my head up. So thee will have to help me along—if I’m allowed to go, that is. And the general would really prefer to have a member of his staff along to negotiate with the captain of the French ship.”

  His words soothed her ruffled emotions, and she laughed lightly and put her hand on his arm, hard as iron beneath her touch. “Well, maybe we’ll make a sailor out of you, Dan. Don’t know of any Quaker sailors, though.”

  He put his hard, square hand over hers and there was a queer feeling in her as he murmured softly, “It’s a good thing thee is doing, Charity Alden—and God will bless thee for it.”

  Her face flushed as he pressed her hand. He was a powerful man, his thick chest and broad shoulders making her feel almost unsubstantial. He had, she realized, a physical strength that was prodigious—but it was the spirit which flared out of his warm brown eyes that she had learned to admire.

  Finally he released her hand and looked off into the distance. “Listen!” Far off some bells were ringing. Church bells, probably, but far away, heard only as a silver tinkling that floated across the white frozen world.

  “Ringing out the old year,” he told her. Then he smiled. “And for thee, Charity Alden, the bells are ringing out a great deal. Thee is leaving the old world—coming into something new.”

  There was something almost prophetic in his deep voice, and a quick stab of fear ran through her. Her life had been fixed, and now she was moving out of it, into an unknown and uncertain time. She took a deep breath, and looking across Valley Forge, she whispered, “I think you’re right, Dan—but it’ll be all right.”