“She gave me too much credit. You do as well.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. You are the best man I’ve ever known, John Paterson.”
“And you are the most remarkable woman.”
23
PROVIDE NEW GUARDS
Back in March, an officer named Captain Huddy of New Jersey had been assigned to guard a blockhouse in Monmouth that came under attack by a regiment of loyalists. Captain Huddy, after expending all his ammunition, was taken hostage and brought into New York. A few weeks later, and without any trial or warning, he was brought to the New Jersey shore, late at night, and hanged from a tree.
A letter pinned to Captain Huddy’s chest read, “We, the loyalists, having with grief long beheld the cruel murders of our brethren, therefore determine not to suffer without taking vengeance for these numerous cruelties. We have made use of Captain Huddy as the first object to present to your view; and further determine to hang man for man while there is a loyalist existing. Up goes Huddy for Phillip White.”
Further investigation had revealed that Phillip White, a loyalist soldier, had been taken prisoner in a skirmish after Captain Huddy was already in confinement. Phillip White had also, after surrendering, taken a musket and shot the son of a colonel before escaping. He was recovered and once again brought into custody only to escape once more. One of his pursuers, after repeated warnings to him to stop, struck him across the head with a broadsword, which killed him instantly.
The outcry from the inhabitants of New Jersey to Congress as well as General Washington himself over Huddy’s death was so strident, General Washington called on all the general officers and those commanding brigades or regiments to assemble and deliberate on what should be done.
The previous vote had taken place in June. Now it was September, and the commander in chief had assembled his officers back at Robinson’s house, this time to discuss the sorry circumstances they now found themselves in.
I took the opportunity to look in on Morris and Maggie, who in spite of our shared reticence and reserve, had become friends of mine. I had little experience with friendship, and the two of them seemed to have even less, but an unspoken understanding had emerged, one I did not overanalyze or rely on. I simply enjoyed it and asked after their well-being whenever I was able.
General Paterson had been in meetings all morning, but he’d stomped from the house during a recess, desperate for some air and exercise. I’d seen him exit and had rushed to his side.
“Should I get the horses, sir?”
“No. General Washington has asked me to remain. There is another matter I am to attend to, but he is conferring with General von Steuben at the moment. I am going for a walk.”
“Should I come with you?”
“If you wish.” The general’s voice was terse and his stride long, but I loped after him.
“Your limp has worsened since the march to White Plains,” he muttered. “You should have listened to me. Both times.”
The day Phineas died our relationship changed, though I hadn’t allowed myself to draw conclusions from the intimacy we’d shared. We didn’t speak of it, and I was surprised he brought it up now.
“I will get some more salve from Maggie. It should help with the ache.”
He stopped abruptly. “You did not tell me you were hurting.”
“It isn’t constant. I can keep up, General.”
“Yes. But you would not win any races. Even in your magic breeches.”
I pushed my hat back so I could better see his eyes. “You know the fable of the tortoise and the hare, don’t you, sir?”
“Yes, Samson. I do.”
“Who wins the race?”
“The tortoise.”
“That’s right. I have lost some speed, but I have not lost my stamina.”
His gaze on my face softened, and he let me set the pace as we began to climb the hill behind the house. As we ascended, he relayed what had transpired in the strained meeting.
“Last June, without any discussion, we all put our opinions on the Huddy matter in writing and gave them to General Washington. He did not want us swayed from our own feelings by the sentiments of others. Unfortunately, the consensus was to retaliate in kind and hang a British prisoner of the same rank.”
I gasped. I knew the fate of poor Huddy, but I’d known nothing of the vote.
“Is that what you wanted?” I asked, trying to keep any judgment from my question.
“No. I was, as usual, the voice of dissent. Captain Huddy was an innocent man. To hang another innocent man in retaliation for his death seemed absurd, not to mention immoral. I said as much.”