companionship. Unknown to his two friends, he already had that within easy reach. The woman whom he had met in Montreal—Maria Quinn—was traveling with them and awaiting his call. He had no need of a prim young virgin from Canterbury.
"Thank you, Polly," he said. "I'm deeply grateful."
"So is Miss Rainham," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Nan Wyatt was as nosy as me. She wanted to hear all the scandal, so I told her what I knew. Nan also asked about people whose names she's heard on Miss Rainham's list."
"Such as?"
"People she's met since she's been with us—General Phillips, Brigadier Fraser, and so on. But there was one person," said Polly with a giggle, "that she knew her mistress would really like to know about."
"Oh? And who was that?"
"Captain Jamie Skoyles."
At the very start of hostilities, Major General Arthur St. Clair was given stark proof of the shortcomings of his defenses at Fort Ticonderoga. When a skirmish party of Indians and British light infantry approached the stronghold, St. Clair saw how exposed his men on Mount Hope were, and he ordered them to withdraw, protecting the movement with a sortie. Driven back by the Indians, he sustained only small losses, but, during the exchange of fire, one bold and inebriated Irishman crept up until he was a mere forty paces from theAmerican lines. Hiding behind a tree stump, the man fired a shot and set off such a concerted volley from the rebels that the noise scattered the Indians.
The Irishman was captured and imprisoned in the fort, but he was stubborn and insolent under questioning, refusing to tell them anything about the strength of the British army. St. Clair discussed the case with Ezekiel Proudfoot, and the other man had a suggestion.
"He may not talk to
us
, sir," he said thoughtfully, "but I'll wager that he'll confide in Captain O'Driscoll."
"Why on earth should the prisoner do that, Ezekiel?"
"For two good reasons, sir. First, O'Driscoll is an Irishman, and you know what happens when two sons of Hibernia get together. Second, if we put our man in the same cell, we'll let him have a bottle of rum concealed about him."
"I begin to follow you," said St. Clair, smiling. "We pretend that O'Driscoll is a damn Tory and lock him up. All he has to do is to play the part well enough to win the prisoner's confidence."
"The bottle of rum will do that."
The plan was put into effect immediately and soon bore fruit. The obstinate prisoner, a member of the 47th Light Infantry, was much more outgoing in the presence of a fellow Irishman and, warmed by a few long swigs of rum, gave him the name and number of every corps under Burgoyne's command. He was even able to list the guns available. When the information was passed on to St. Clair, it confirmed his worst fears. He adjourned to his office with Ezekiel Proudfoot and Colonel Wilkinson.
"It's the strength of that artillery that troubles me," he confessed. "They have six-pounders, twelve-pounders, and twenty-four-pounders as well as howitzers and mortars. Worst of all, they have William Phillips in control of the weapons, a man who showed what he could do at the Battle of Minden. He's a genius."
"Even a genius needs a target," said Wilkinson.
"He has one right here."
"Only if we stay, General."
"You still want us to run away with our tails between our legs?"
"I'd rather call it a tactical withdrawal."
"It would be a cowardly retreat," said Proudfoot angrily. "Or, at least, that's how it would be seen. What will that do to our reputations?"
"We have to take the long view, Ezekiel. If we make a swift and orderlywithdrawal, we can at least preserve our men to fight another day. And not just our troops," said Wilkinson, looking at St. Clair. "Your eleven-year-old son is with us, sir. Is this the kind of military experience you want the boy to have? It would be terrifying for him."
"Leave my son out of this."
"Why put his life in danger? Keep him here and he'll suffer the same fate as the rest
"Thank you, Polly," he said. "I'm deeply grateful."
"So is Miss Rainham," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Nan Wyatt was as nosy as me. She wanted to hear all the scandal, so I told her what I knew. Nan also asked about people whose names she's heard on Miss Rainham's list."
"Such as?"
"People she's met since she's been with us—General Phillips, Brigadier Fraser, and so on. But there was one person," said Polly with a giggle, "that she knew her mistress would really like to know about."
"Oh? And who was that?"
"Captain Jamie Skoyles."
At the very start of hostilities, Major General Arthur St. Clair was given stark proof of the shortcomings of his defenses at Fort Ticonderoga. When a skirmish party of Indians and British light infantry approached the stronghold, St. Clair saw how exposed his men on Mount Hope were, and he ordered them to withdraw, protecting the movement with a sortie. Driven back by the Indians, he sustained only small losses, but, during the exchange of fire, one bold and inebriated Irishman crept up until he was a mere forty paces from theAmerican lines. Hiding behind a tree stump, the man fired a shot and set off such a concerted volley from the rebels that the noise scattered the Indians.
The Irishman was captured and imprisoned in the fort, but he was stubborn and insolent under questioning, refusing to tell them anything about the strength of the British army. St. Clair discussed the case with Ezekiel Proudfoot, and the other man had a suggestion.
"He may not talk to
us
, sir," he said thoughtfully, "but I'll wager that he'll confide in Captain O'Driscoll."
"Why on earth should the prisoner do that, Ezekiel?"
"For two good reasons, sir. First, O'Driscoll is an Irishman, and you know what happens when two sons of Hibernia get together. Second, if we put our man in the same cell, we'll let him have a bottle of rum concealed about him."
"I begin to follow you," said St. Clair, smiling. "We pretend that O'Driscoll is a damn Tory and lock him up. All he has to do is to play the part well enough to win the prisoner's confidence."
"The bottle of rum will do that."
The plan was put into effect immediately and soon bore fruit. The obstinate prisoner, a member of the 47th Light Infantry, was much more outgoing in the presence of a fellow Irishman and, warmed by a few long swigs of rum, gave him the name and number of every corps under Burgoyne's command. He was even able to list the guns available. When the information was passed on to St. Clair, it confirmed his worst fears. He adjourned to his office with Ezekiel Proudfoot and Colonel Wilkinson.
"It's the strength of that artillery that troubles me," he confessed. "They have six-pounders, twelve-pounders, and twenty-four-pounders as well as howitzers and mortars. Worst of all, they have William Phillips in control of the weapons, a man who showed what he could do at the Battle of Minden. He's a genius."
"Even a genius needs a target," said Wilkinson.
"He has one right here."
"Only if we stay, General."
"You still want us to run away with our tails between our legs?"
"I'd rather call it a tactical withdrawal."
"It would be a cowardly retreat," said Proudfoot angrily. "Or, at least, that's how it would be seen. What will that do to our reputations?"
"We have to take the long view, Ezekiel. If we make a swift and orderlywithdrawal, we can at least preserve our men to fight another day. And not just our troops," said Wilkinson, looking at St. Clair. "Your eleven-year-old son is with us, sir. Is this the kind of military experience you want the boy to have? It would be terrifying for him."
"Leave my son out of this."
"Why put his life in danger? Keep him here and he'll suffer the same fate as the rest
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