A Mischief in the Snow Part 17

"Has it been difficult, Edmund?" asked Longfellow, a touch more sympathy in his manner.

"The patriots of Boston are always difficult, Richard. Yet I must say that I now begin to doubt the motives and methods of my own side, as well."

A young woman, newly arrived from Framingham in search, Longfellow suspected, of a husband, came to serve them.

As she approached her skirts swayed gently, and her expression was especially welcoming to the gentlemen. This Charlotte noted briefly, before her attention returned to Edmund's weary face.

"Punch," Longfellow said abruptly. The young woman retreated. "Recently I've been somewhat lax," he went on, "in following the news from town. Have things worsened so much?"

"That depends on what you mean. Since August, of course, nearly everyone who's taken a position has cried out against the stamps; Bernard is now governor in name only. I've heard he doubts he could command ten men in the town. I believe he's right."

"That would depend on what they were wanted for."

"Well, the militia can't be raised. The man they call 'Captain' McIntosh has been released from custody, yet everyone agrees it was he who led the mob that destroyed the lieutenant governor's home this summer-for which Hutchinson has yet to receive a penny! It seems some have decided that if McIntosh is tried, the Liberty Boys must tear down the custom house. At the moment, it contains some six thousand pounds of the King's sterling. That That, I'm sure, would never be seen again."

"Perhaps not. But with Boston ordered closed to s.h.i.+pping for six weeks, it did seem only a matter of time before starvation might-"

"Starvation! It would have been many months before your gouty friends felt a pinch in anything but their waistcoats! Their wallets are another matter. Most cried famine when they saw docking fees for their sitting s.h.i.+ps rise, though It would have been many months before your gouty friends felt a pinch in anything but their waistcoats! Their wallets are another matter. Most cried famine when they saw docking fees for their sitting s.h.i.+ps rise, though all all they needed to do to clear them was agree to buy the blasted stamps! Don't forget, we in Britain have had to purchase the things ourselves, for a number of years." they needed to do to clear them was agree to buy the blasted stamps! Don't forget, we in Britain have had to purchase the things ourselves, for a number of years."

"Yes, but the problem is, we here here have not. For good reason-" have not. For good reason-"

"And it is largely a means for financing the troops stationed on your western borders, where the French might still-"

"That is your affair now, since the King has ordered we we may no longer settle west of the mountains." may no longer settle west of the mountains."

"Legally, that is correct-but whom does it stop? Hordes continue to go there anyway, against all sense."

"Bracebridge is close enough to the frontier for my own taste, as well. But let us both be reasonable, Edmund. We hear Mr. Oliver, the Stamp Distributor, has resigned; the stamps are still out in Castle William, and in fact Parliament has yet yet to send us copies of the Act officially- making this little more than a French farce!" to send us copies of the Act officially- making this little more than a French farce!"

The serving maid arrived with a flounce and put down her tray, then set out gla.s.ses and a hot jug. Longfellow quickly gave her a coin, but no further reason to stay. Dropping the payment beneath her neck scarf, she smiled nonetheless.

"I can't argue with you there," said Montagu when she'd left them. "Frankly, I've come to believe both sides are equally ridiculous in the way they behave. Every official in Boston seems to fear upsetting his own boat-and so the governor sends the stamp question to his Council, which forwards it to the judges of the Superior Court, who decline to sit and defer to the House of Representatives. These gentlemen consult the townsmen, who speak with their lawyers, who wish the judges first to give advice before they risk their licenses. But the judges will not meet until they are scheduled to do so some time in March- and so it all starts over again! This has been thrown from one hand to another like a hot ingot, while the town hopes someone, anyone anyone, will decide what is or is not legal, or at least what Parliament may accept. A loss of respect for all authority, I'm very sure, will be the consequence. I can tell you it's a thing I've begun to feel myself, with my own home put in jeopardy."

"Perhaps you take it too much to heart, Edmund," said Longfellow as he raised his gla.s.s. "After all, no one has yet been hanged-except in effigy. There is, after all, a comic side."

"Oh, yes. The strategy of the Attorney General of Ma.s.sachusetts, your old friend Trowbridge, is particularly amusing."

"What has he done now?"

"For weeks he ducked the issue of how, or if, the courts might legally do business, with stamps unavailable for their doc.u.ments. Finally he had a friend pay a visit to Town House. There it was explained that due to rheumatism of the arm and shoulder-on the right side-the Attorney General had been forced to abandon all business, as he can no longer sign his own name!"

"And you don't think?..."

"Do you?"

"No," Longfellow said amiably. "I suppose I don't."

"But perhaps you're right. Friends inform me a growing number of Whigs at home speak out against this business of taxing the colonies, at least for general revenue."

"And since we all suppose the Whigs will regain power some day soon, it seems preferable to have friends among that party, rather than the thanks of an ungrateful king... whose health is questionable."

"The reality is, the port is again operating as usual. So your men have already won. The remainder of the courts will soon be opened, as well."

"Without the stamps."

"Without the stamps. I, for one, look for the repeal of the Act in the spring."

"Perhaps," said Charlotte, catching the men by surprise, "this might have some bearing on our own problem. Of the s.h.i.+llings, I mean."

"How so, Mrs. Willett?" asked Longfellow.

"If the governor and his men, and our own legislators and judges, have all avoided their duties, and overlooked the law... then can the men of Bracebridge be made to pay too dearly for doing much the same?"

"But here," Longfellow retorted with a new uneasiness, "surely, it is different. When a whole town partic.i.p.ates in illegal activity such as this, and when they have acted against-against-"

"You?" asked Montagu. He smiled suddenly, pleased to see the shoe on another foot. "It does seem that you have been hoodwinked, Richard, by much of Bracebridge. Though perhaps Reverend Rowe is also in the dark. That may be of some comfort."

"Delightful company," Longfellow replied with a grimace.

"Oh, I think there are quite a few others," Charlotte reminded them. "Remember the ladies..."

"Well, yes," Longfellow admitted.

"The real question," said Montagu, "is this: what will happen if we throw a large portion of Bracebridge onto a legal system that barely functions? We can no more do this, than Bernard can afford to do what he really wishes to do as governor. He recently believed that the people of Boston were his worst enemy. Now, my sources a.s.sure me country men may be even more ready for violence, if the stamp issue is pressed further. Should things worsen, some say, they will refuse to accept Britain's sovereignty entirely!"

The rest had been considered with a sense of amus.e.m.e.nt on one side or the other; this was a sobering thought. Such a declaration might lead, after all, to a state of open warfare.

"The issues are heady ones," said Longfellow slowly. "And they're likely to cause pa.s.sions to become over-strong. But when chaos becomes the acknowledged tool of politicians, and punishment becomes impossible, what do we call the thing we're left with, I wonder?"

Then, they saw Jonathan Pratt, who apparently had troubles of his own.

"Good morning, good morning... good morning," said the rotund man as he approached them. A hand went to his bulging waistcoat, as if he'd suffered a twinge of dyspepsia.

"h.e.l.lo, Jonathan," Longfellow said airily. "How are you today?"

"Not well. The recent excitement has affected my digestion."

"To which excitement do you refer?"

"The idea that there may well be a murderer in our midst!"

"Of course. Yet rest a.s.sured we will get to the bottom of it. At the moment, there is a slight delay-but soon, soon we will begin to move forward. Perhaps by then we'll have sorted out another little matter."

"You and the captain... have found something else that concerns you?" the landlord asked hesitantly. "Something that goes on in Boston?"

"Partly in Boston, yes. But I believe the root of our trouble is here."

"Here?" asked Jonathan, his voice strangely hollow. asked Jonathan, his voice strangely hollow.

"Not on this very spot, no. But then again, it's difficult to say. Especially when one has been told very little."

"I see. Or shall I say, you see? Ha, ha. I myself scarcely know any of the details that might help you. But have you proof?" he asked, suddenly inspired.

"Of a sort." Longfellow took the s.h.i.+lling he'd found from his pocket, and held it before the landlord's s.h.i.+fting eye. "Would you care to examine it?"

"No need," Jonathan said slowly. "For I've found many others in my strongbox, while counting up my profits. They are all rather soft, it seems. When I attempted to use one to pry off the frozen cap of my inkwell some days ago, it bent. I might have told you, Richard-but would the knowledge have done more harm than good?"

"Then you weren't told their secret either. I feel just a little better, Jonathan."

"I'm glad. No one, as you say, has told me anything- but now that I've examined my records, I realize a large number of our neighbors have given me s.h.i.+llings in payment for old bills, though silver has become difficult to find. It seems I now hold many pounds of counterfeit coins- enough to pray it's not confiscated one day! I feared to have it melted down, let alone to pa.s.s it on-though I'm sure I've already done so unwittingly. Is this... is this something you feel strongly about, Captain Montagu?"

"We shall have to see. Have you anything else to tell us, sir?"

"I will think very carefully, Captain, and let you know," Jonathan answered. "But how did you gentlemen discover it?"

"I'll tell you later," said Longfellow. "One evening, while we share a bottle or two of something rare and mellow, from your cellar."

"I will be delighted to provide just the thing."

"Good. Now, I've thought of another question or two, which I shall put to one of your clients. If you will excuse me?"

Slowly, Longfellow put his s.h.i.+lling back into a pocket, unwound his long legs, and rose. He made his way to a table by the fire, where Jack Pennywort had planted himself not long before. Already, it seemed, the small man was in his cups. He gave the approaching selectman a nearly toothless grin.

"I was hoping to see you here, sir, for I've read all of it now!" said Jack. "A lively place Otranto is, too. Full of wonders, and interesting Science."

"Science, Jack? How is that?" Longfellow asked with some surprise.

"Well, Mr. Flint and Mr. Tinder have told me that's what must lie under most of the things the book sets out, after all. And I agreed with them, as I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with the kind of foolishness this seems seems to be, sir, not unless there was something real and true beneath it. Maybe you will explain to us at the tavern, one day. Gunpowder, I suppose, is involved-and perhaps brimstone, as before?" to be, sir, not unless there was something real and true beneath it. Maybe you will explain to us at the tavern, one day. Gunpowder, I suppose, is involved-and perhaps brimstone, as before?"

Jack paused to chortle, for he'd recalled an unusual event of three years ago, in which he'd been a central character. "That was very good of you, sir, and it was then I first wished I had more learning myself-for it can be a useful thing, I see now. I was double pleased when you lent me that book to read, and offered to pay me for the privilege! Only I think, if you would be so kind, sir, you need not trouble my wife with the rest of what's been promised. You might save yourself some steps, if you will, and give it directly to me."

Jack sat up, attempting to look steady and responsible, while his moist eyes continued to weave.

"Well..." Longfellow hesitated. He'd not been unmoved by the praise he'd heard. In fact, he felt a little ashamed of himself for what he'd asked of the small man before him. An education was, after all, a privilege, and not one to be taken lightly, or mocked in its absence. Still, had Pennywort seen fit, recently, to share what he he knew, concerning certain local activities? knew, concerning certain local activities?

"How would you like it then, Jack? In s.h.i.+llings, I suppose. But what kind of s.h.i.+llings?"

"What kind, sir?"

"The regular ones? Or would you prefer some that are a little heavier and softer? Those that are, like yourself, of local manufacture?"

After a few moments, Jack jumped-for the information had taken its time reaching his brain. Only a cunning instinct for survival kept him from babbling what he knew.

"Have they got a mint now, in Boston?" he finally asked with a sweet, inquiring look.

"I don't think so. However, there may be a new one open out on Boar Island."

"That would would be curious, wouldn't it, sir?" Jack answered with a crooked smile. be curious, wouldn't it, sir?" Jack answered with a crooked smile.

"It would indeed. You're not going to tell me, are you, Jack? Even for your last payment?"

This made the other man consider carefully. He licked his lips, as he imagined the additional spirits he might buy over the next several hours. Then a look of resolve crept over his face. He shook his head, and clamped his lips together.

"Hmm," Longfellow responded, pleased in spite of himself. "But tell me this, Jack. Why did no one tell me? Was it because I'm a selectman? Or do you mistrust me for another reason?"

"Well, you see..." Jack looked as if he were trying to remember the honest truth. Longfellow waited patiently, supposing this to be a rather rare occurrence. "You see," Jack decided at last, "it's because we do do trust you, sir. You are a man we all respect-and we expect you to do what's right. It's what I feel in all of our dealings, for you've never been unfair with me, even if you do come to us from Boston. I feel the same about Mrs. Willett, who I know I wronged once-but she forgave me, didn't she? She's a good, honest lady. But that's another reason why we never told you. For we thought then trust you, sir. You are a man we all respect-and we expect you to do what's right. It's what I feel in all of our dealings, for you've never been unfair with me, even if you do come to us from Boston. I feel the same about Mrs. Willett, who I know I wronged once-but she forgave me, didn't she? She's a good, honest lady. But that's another reason why we never told you. For we thought then she she might find out, as well." might find out, as well."

"About the s.h.i.+llings?"

"About whatever it is you may mean, Mr. Longfellow, sir."

"Yes..."

"And it wasn't your being a selectman, sir. For most of them do do know, and in fact joined right in! With whatever you may be imagining." know, and in fact joined right in! With whatever you may be imagining."

"Ah-ha! That is interesting. Well, let it never be said I took advantage of a man over a gla.s.s of-what is that you've got there, Jack?"

"Rum, sir! Today it is rum, for I remembered a seaman once told me it will ward off anything. And that is how I plan to continue, as long as I can afford it," he finished bravely.

"Rum, then, it will be, until this fails... or you do." Once more, Longfellow retrieved the tainted s.h.i.+lling, and set it down on the table. Giving the matter a second thought, he picked it up and replaced it with another of full value.

"What we remember, Jack," he said seriously, "is worth more than silver, or gold. Remembrances of friends, of kindnesses, of love-even of shameless flattery. All of these retain real value, I think, in the midst of chaos."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Longfellow, sir!" Jack cried as he raised an arm, summoning the young lady from Framingham, who came immediately.

Chapter 26.

RICHARD LONGFELLOW STOOD for a moment on the snowy road, watching the others return to his home. Captain Montagu, he felt, would only be a hindrance in what he planned to do next. And he could see Charlotte had another idea of her own, though she only admitted she'd go and ask Hannah about her sciatica, while Lem saw his young lady. for a moment on the snowy road, watching the others return to his home. Captain Montagu, he felt, would only be a hindrance in what he planned to do next. And he could see Charlotte had another idea of her own, though she only admitted she'd go and ask Hannah about her sciatica, while Lem saw his young lady.

Longfellow raised his scarf and began to walk into the brisk west wind, hoping to catch a ride. Before long he had his wish. Once over the bridge, he strode to the north on the road to Concord; this soon took him to the swinging sign of the Blue Boar.

The air inside was full of warmth and talk, but the latter ceased when Longfellow entered. He was not a regular here, and when he did come in, others might ask why. Yet he supposed word had circulated concerning the tenuous state of the village secret-now that he'd begun to look into other affairs connected with Boar Island. The tavern's patrons would ask themselves what he knew... much as he had wondered about them in weeks gone by. Good! Better to fish in troubled waters. Doubt might soften their resolve, eventually helping the truth to burst out like-well, like the thing he'd observed on John Dudley's stump of a neck.

Antic.i.p.ated success put a smile on the selectman's face, which he imagined gave most of those watching additional discomfort. When the time was ripe, he would pounce. Until then he would wait like one of his cats, and watch for further developments.

Phineas Wise came toward him between the tables, carrying a jug of ale.

"Good day to you, Mr. Longfellow. Have you come to see how we do in the other half of the village this morning? After our little snow?"

"Good day, Mr. Wise. Half of the village is on my mind, I admit. Due to the weather... and a few other things I've been looking into."

"Would you like something to warm you? I'm about to make flannel."