Chapter Fifteen

London, England March 26, 1765

Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in London was far less crowded than usual. Colin sat at a table near the crackling fireplace, a table reserved for the elite of the city, a title Colin now possessed ever since he became a confidant of the young Theresa, the Baroness of Boringdon. The Baroness, barely twenty, had sighted Colin at Orange Square when he attended a recital given by eight-year-old Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Wolfgang was the new talk of the town and regularly gave public concerts. The Baroness approached Colin innocently enough. “I cannot understand why young Wolfgang would choose to give a recital in this disgusting Square.”

“I suppose you’re talking about the grazing sheep and donkeys,” Colin said mainly to be polite.

“Of course,” she said daintily and extended her hand to Colin so he could help her sidestep a pile of donkey dung. “Thank you, mister…”

“Colin Harcourt, my lady,” Colin said, again to be polite.

“I am Baroness of Boringdon,” she said flashing her eyes. “You know we are both from Vienna?”

“Pardon?” Colin questioned.

“Young Wolfgang and I are from Vienna.” The Baroness smiled at Colin. That was all it took. Colin did not particularly like his new arrangement, but he could not deny the benefits afforded him. A warm table by the fireside in one of London’s finest taverns on this frigid January night in 1765 directly resulted from his liaison with the twenty-year-old Baroness.

Colin spent much of his afternoons in taverns of this kind. He was content to sit and read the dailies or sift through his past life experiences and drink a pint or two. Today he read the dailies. A full-page advertisement caught his eye; he turned the page several times but kept returning to the ad.

Two men sat at the table to Colin’s left. He recognized them both. The short fat man was a well-known merchant who spent more time in taverns or brothels than tending to his merchandise. The tall, thin man with beady eyes and a thin hawk-like nose was the Frenchman, Count Tuate. The Frenchman turned up in London soon after Colin. He had no visible means of support. Some said he had killed a lover in France. Some said he had made a vast fortune selling ammunitions to both sides in the recent Seven Year War in Europe. Colin remembered the war as the French and Indian War. Colin thought the Frenchman was more likely a thief preying on London widows of a station and not a Count at all.

The duo’s conversation became boisterous and carried through the tavern. Colin had no choice but listen to the rant.

“I tell you that those damn colonists have no right to expect His Majesty to pay for their little war. If it weren't for The Crown, those bastards would be Frenchmen now.”

“My dear friend it was not the intention of the French to make your Colonists French,” the Count said.

“It doesn’t matter. The fact is the French caused the war. They should pay for the war and leave us out.” The other man slammed his fist on the table. One glass of ale sloshed onto the table.

“You are wrong as usual Monsieur. The British started the war when they commissioned that upstart Washington to attack a French fort in the Ohio Valley.” The Frenchman forked a sausage and bit off the end.

“Let’s just agree to disagree. I maintain that we loyal subjects to the Crown should not be taxed to pay for a war we did not start.” The merchant took a drink of ale.

“I agree. The loyal subjects of England should not have to pay for costs incurred in the Americas,” he said in between mouthfuls of sausage. “However, the Crown should pay most the expenses incurred on the Continent.”

The merchant took another big gulp of ale and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “It might not matter. I hear Parliament is debating a law right this moment. They are calling it the Stamp Act.”

“The colonists seem to snub their noses at laws passed by your Parliament. Don’t you remember your Sugar Act from last year? The act passed to increase taxes on the colonist’s maple and sugar, was it not? The colonists avoided paying the increased taxes.”

“That might well be, but this time Parliament means business. They are also debating a law that would force the colonists to quarter our soldiers already stationed in the Americas. The law will also free up enough cash to send over additional soldiers to keep those damned colonists in line.” The merchant punctuated his statement with his spoon.

“Maybe, this time, it will work,” the Frenchman said as he slapped his tankard on the table and stood up to leave. “I only hope William Pitt will not prevent Parliament from taking prompt action against the colonists.”

“I would not worry too much about Pitt. Yes, he is a staunch supporter of the colonists, and yes, that infernal meddler Franklin has Pitt’s ear. However, Pitt is only one man. Franklin will have to return home with his tail between his legs.” He stood, wiping his jowls with the soiled napkin. “I have it on good authority that the Crown wishes to force his wayward subjects across the ocean into submission.”

The two men left the tavern and Colin went back to staring at the advertisement. Seeking military minded personnel. Objective: Defense of His Majesty’s laws and sovereignty in the Colonies. Military experience is helpful in undertaking his Majesties quest.  Colin threw the advertisement into the fire, chugged his remaining ale, and stalked out of the tavern in no particular direction. He was determined not to let the Scarab get him into this fight.

“I bet I know how that went,” Grant said pouring another glass of wine. “The scarab never loses, according to what I have heard so far.”

Colin had asked for another glass of wine before he spoke. “The argument was closer than you might expect. I was winning the fight and feeling damn proud. I was ahead until my six-hundred and ninety-ninth birthday that is. The Quartering Act passed by Parliament four days after my birthday March 24th, and the Stamp Act passed two days before that. London was abuzz with the news. They finally had a law that would silence the colonists. The Baroness and I decided a late celebration was in order. We could not celebrate on my actual birthday, so we celebrated on the twenty-sixth instead. I will admit, the Baroness was celebrating for the new laws and not the fact it was my birthday. It was my thirty-second birthday as far as she knew.”

“You didn’t tell her your real age?” asked Sally.

“No, she would not have believed me.” Colin mused.

“I believe you,” Sally hugged him.

“We had planned a pleasant stroll in Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens. For a small admission fee, Londoners could walk along the gorgeous lake or look at the Chinese Pavilion. We had just left the pavilion and were on our way to the Rotunda. The Rotunda was centered in the gardens and larger than the Coliseum in Rome. Musicians of the time often played there on sunny days. We had picnicked and listen to the music when I was approached by a man I had met once in Philadelphia…”

“What a pleasant surprise. It is you Lieutenant Harcourt?”

“Yes, Dr. Franklin. Imagine meeting you in England,” Colin said, shocked to see the famous American in the Gardens although he read he was in England.

“I am afraid my current reason to be in England failed miserably. Where are my manners? Colin, it is my extreme privilege to introduce William Pitt, first Earl of Chatham and champion of our Colonial rights.” Ben pointed to the well-dressed older man on his right.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Harcourt. However, I also feel I failed your cause.” Colin stuck out his hand. “The Stamp Act was passed by our Parliament despite my ardent objection.”

“I know too well how the colonists will react to the new taxes.” Ben frowned. The frown quickly turned into a smile. “And who is that pretty damsel on your arm, Colin?”

“My apologies, Dr. Franklin, may I take the honor of presenting Theresa the Baroness of Boringdon.” 

Theresa extended her dainty hand. “Charmed Dr. Franklin, I have read so much about you.” She then turned to Pitt and said, “It is a pleasure to see you again, William, I hope all is well with you.”

“All is well Baroness.” Pitt kissed the young Baroness’ hand with a quick bow.

“We were about to a picnic, please join us,” Colin waved toward the ground.

“I fear we would only be an intrusion. Besides, we are on our way to meet with others loyal to our cause.” Franklin bowed. “Colin if I might have a word with you.” 

Surprised, Colin nodded. “I will be brief. I promise Baroness. He will return before the harpsichordist finishes Bach’s Concerto.” Franklin kissed the back of her hand.

Pitt, Franklin, and Colin took a few steps from the baroness who stood to fan herself.

“Colin, are you still employed by His Majesty’s Army?” asked Franklin.

“I am retired, but still hold my commission. Why do you ask?” Colin smiled at Theresa standing patiently a few feet away, her hands folded in front.

Franklin cautiously scanned the area before he spoke. “Forgive our candor, Colin, but I fear significant repercussions with the latest law. Parliament went out of its way to provoke the colonists.”

“I have already stood clear of any troubles over there,” Colin said as he returned to the Baroness.

“A moment more, Colin,” Franklin pleaded. “Allow me the chance to rearrange your resolve.”

“My mind is made up. But, I am curious. Speak your thoughts.”

“After George…”

Colin interrupted Ben. “King George?”

Franklin laughed, “Hardly my dear lad, hardly. After George Washington had been relieved of his command in the last war, I received a glowing report about an individual British lieutenant. The report gave this lieutenant high mark in his ability to remain calm during battle and maintain a level-head in uncertain times.” Franklin stopped and stared at Colin. “Permit me to say. You have not changed one iota. You look the same as you did ten years ago.”

“Thank you sir, but what does the report have to do with me?” Beads of sweat rolled down Colin’s brow. Either the temperature had increased in the last few minutes, or his friend was about to talk him into a situation he had sworn to avoid.

“Colin, you are that lieutenant. I need you to go back to America and help instill some semblance of calm. With the passage of the Quartering Act, Parliament has unknowingly given us the perfect vehicle to instill peace, if that is possible. William here has the authority to commission you to the office of captain.” Ben pointed at William. “If you accept, the proper papers could be ready by this time tomorrow.”

Colin swatted a fly. “I cannot see how your plan would work. I will remain loyal to my country and king. Any action performed by colonists against His Majesty’s law would be considered an act of treason.”

“I am not asking you to betray your country. We are all Englishmen. All I am saying is we need high-ranking friends that will keep a level head when others around them are losing theirs. Besides, if you remember, you promised me a story.”

Colin could feel his heart beat in his chest. He told Franklin that one day he would tell him about his curse. How could he remember that? The scarab weighed heavily on his neck. He had little choice. Of course, he would need to accept the offer. “I can see why you are considered a great persuader.” Colin glanced at Theresa, lowering his voice. “When will the proper papers be ready?”

Ben reached into the satchel he carried. “Here is one ticket for America, leaving Dover in four days and one ticket for the coach to Dover. Your papers are ready, signed. Your uniform will wait for you in Boston, Captain Harcourt.”

“It seems you did a lot of planning for this accidental meeting.”

Ben laughed, “I like to be prepared. I knew where you would be today. This was no accident.”

“And how did you know where I would be?” Colin asked looking at the Baroness.

“No, it was not her. I am in tune with my spirituality and nature. All I can say is maybe a tiny bug told me.” Benjamin stepped back and studied Colin’s face. “I have often said an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Colin, you have certainly had your share of apples. I am most interested in your story. One other thing before you leave, I have secured housing for you in Boston. You remember Isaiah Page?”

“I had been set up by Dr. Franklin. I said my goodbyes to the baroness who promised to wait for my return. She married four years later, apparently tired of waiting. She contracted pneumonia and passed away in 1775 at the age of thirty-one.”

“Did you ever go home to her?” Sally asked.

“No, I was too involved with business on this side of the Atlantic.” Colin folded his hands in his lap.

“Did you ever tell your story to Benjamin Franklin?” asked Grant puffing on another cigar.

“You will have to be patient, General. Franklin did not return from England until 1775. I am still in England, it’s my birthday, and it’s still 1765,” Colin said with a smile.

“The coach ride from Dover was uneventful but jogged my memory. Harcourt’s Inn had changed its name. I did not have the time to go inside the inn. The coach’s wheel came loose at almost the exact spot King William Rufus had caught me bathing in the Royal stream. Before I knew it, I was sailing to America. The date was March 30th, 1765. The scarab had won again.” Colin sighed, feeling a release with every moment he recounted his life.

Chapter Sixteen

Boston 1765-1770

The major sat behind his desk. All papers were in orderly stacks to his right, and his quill and ink sat, precisely placed to his left. His saber hung neatly on a peg behind him, and not a strand of hair stood out of place. “Where are your papers?” he asked Colin without looking up. Colin handed the major his papers. “It is highly irregular for Mr. Pitt to assign field officers. I would think he would be too busy codling, Dr. Franklin, to have the spare time,” the major said, finally looking up. His steel-blue eyes made Colin feel uneasy. “You are out of uniform captain…” he glared at the papers to get the name “Captain Harcourt.”

“Yes sir, I am newly arrived. I was told my uniform would be provided.”

“Newly arrived? The report states you fought valiantly against the French in the last war,” the major said coldly.

“I wouldn’t say I fought any more valiant than the next soldier.” Colin’s legs began to waiver. He had not stood at attention for so long.

“So, you’re telling me this report was fabricated?” He slammed his hand on the report.

Colin blinked several times. “No sir, I say that others fought valiantly. I was an aide to General Braddock. I then became assigned to Lieutenant Washington after the general died in action.”

“I have read about Washington. It seems as if he was more of a coward than a leader, always retreating.” He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on Colin. “I expect more out of my officers, Captain. Am I clear on that subject?”

He wanted to tell the officer that he was tired of his foolish arrogance, but instead, he saluted crisply. “Yes, sir.”

He picked up his tea and sipped, re-reading Colin's orders. “I see you have already been quartered with a Mr. Paige. I know nothing of the man.”

“We fought side by side. He also helped Washington, and I escort General Braddock from the field of battle.”

“Would you consider him a friend?” the major said icily.

Colin thought the question was odd and none of the major’s concern. “I would not go that far, sir. We fought together. That was all.”

“Good, we are here to maintain His Majesty’s laws, not fraternize with the people. They are a bunch of ungrateful bastards. If I had my way, I would hang the lot of them for treason. I will show no mercy. I have sworn my oath to the Crown to enforce the laws, and by God, I will enforce the laws passed by Parliament—by force if I must. It now falls on you to enforce this new Stamp Act, regardless of how unpopular it makes you. You are to arrest anyone foolish enough to stand in your way. That includes the Adams. They’re a couple of hotheads. I fear they might stir the pot. Poke around and see if you can hit a nerve.” He stood and walked over to Colin with a wry smile. “Do not disappoint me.”

“Yes, sir.” Colin nodded.

“Good. Now go to the quartermaster, your uniform waits. Return tomorrow. I have an assignment for you. There is a problem in Virginia’s House of Burgesses you need to alleviate. A certain Patrick…” he picked up a paper from his desk before continuing, “Yes, here we have it. A certain Patrick Henry addressed the House on May 29th that would have been three days ago. He denounced the Stamp Act and had the nerve to say, and I quote, ‘If this be treason, make the most of it.’ End of quote. Captain, this is treason and England must make an example of Mr. Henry. Good-day sir dismissed.”

Colin exited the command building wearing his new uniform. Isaiah Paige stood leaning on a lamppost across the street. Isaiah was well dressed in a brown vest, white ruffled shirt, blue breeches, and white hose. The buckles on his shoes were scuffed and in need of shining. Isaiah smiled as Colin approached. “It's nice to see you.” They walked on Commercial Street and the waterfront. People glared at Colin with contempt and moved over to the side to let him pass. 

“I am not so sure that you will feel the same after a week or two.” Colin hugged his friend, again. “I have been ordered not to fraternize with the likes of you.”

“Tis all right, old Sam Adams has told us not to take kindly to you Lobster-Backs either. I am happy you are not in a uniform friend. Many people would not think it right for a Son of Liberty to associate with a British Officer.” Isaiah grinned.

“What is a Son of Liberty?” Colin stopped and readjusted his bundle. “And the major just warned me of your friend Adams.”

“The less you know, the better off you will be for right now, but I can say, we’re not alone.” He removed a letter from his pocket. “I have a good friend in North Carolina. We correspond regularly, and in this letter, he tells me about the oppression in North Carolina from Governor Tryon. He tells of how England taxes them unmercifully. The English lords seize property and livestock unlawfully. They are even charging fifteen pounds for a marriage license. He tells me that they are forming their association called the Regulators and they are having some success in alleviating some abuses. My friend is thinking of joining them. The amazing thing is that they have heard of the Sons of Liberty. We could be the inspiration for all the colonies to fight for their rights,” Isaiah shouted, his right fist pounded at the air above his head. Realizing he was speaking with a British Officer and out in the open, he lowered his voice and scanned the area for any witnesses. Satisfied no one was watching, he draped his arm around Colin’s shoulder. “I know I can trust you, Colin. I am risking my family taking you as a border. That Quartering Act gave me a little choice if I am ordered to board an English bastard, and then I am happy you are the bastard. I have told my neighbors, the ones that are still there that the king forced me to house you. I hope you understand.”

Colin grinned. “Your neighbors don’t realize that the Quartering Act will not go into effect for a few years?”

Isaiah jabbed Colin in the arm. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them. Shall we go? The family is excited to meet you.”

“How many neighbors moved?” Colin looked at Isaiah, rubbed his arm, and ruffled Isaiah’s hair.

“Most all of them except for the person next door to me, but she died. That’s Cobb’s Hill Burying Ground to your right. Up ahead you can see the steeple of The Old North Church where the family and I worship.” Isaiah pointed to buildings along the way, but Colin paid little attention. “You know you haven’t changed in the last ten years. Look at me. I went and got older.” Isaiah swayed slowly from side to side.

“I’ve changed my dear friend. It is just not noticeable.” Colin glanced at Isaiah’s wrinkles and thought of all of his years of life. They had not added lines and wrinkles to his skin, but each year had marked his soul. Colin halted to offer a young girl a piece of candy. Her mother jerked her away and knocked the candy from her hand, dragging the child up the street.

“It is none of my business, forget I brought it up. We’re here,” Isaiah, pointed at a simple three-story white house with yellow clapboards. There were a neatly trimmed yard and shrubs. The house shared a courtyard with another home, which was almost identical, except gray clapboards.

The door flew open wide, and a little girl ran into her father’s embrace. “This is the apple of my eye, Jacqueline; she turned three April 10th.”

“Daddy, he doesn’t look like a damned lobster.” She burrowed her head on her father's shoulder.

“Is Remus and Romulus inside?” Isaiah asked his daughter.

“Yeah Daddy, they don't wanna come see lobsters.” Jacqueline stuck her tongue out at Colin and resumed hiding behind her father’s shoulder.

“Remus and Romulus are my twin boys. Please excuse my daughter’s umm…”

“It is quite all right; I would not want to see lobsters either. Unless they were boiled and served with warm butter.” Colin peered around his friend at the little girl gazing up at him.

“I had just met my future mother-in-law, and just didn’t know it at the time. After all, she was only three-years-old,” Colin paced the room.

James took the last doughnut from the tray. He tore it in half and offered the other half to Sally.

“Not exactly, Jacqueline turned out to be the mother of my wife.” Colin pointed at the necklace. “The scarab has an ironic sense of humor.”

“I’m curious, Colin, did you ever arrest Patrick Henry?” asked Grant.

“Yes and no. I arrested him. Somehow, he escaped. Major Dunehirst was more than displeased with my report.”

“Major Dunehirst? Which one was that?” asked Grant.

“He was the major who ordered me to arrest Mr. Henry. He is the major that ordered me not to fraternize with Isaiah.” Colin shrugged. “Isaiah and I became best of friends despite Dunehirst’s orders and although I was a British Officer and he was a member of The Sons of Liberty, an illegal organization under British law.”

“I suppose that would make for some very noteworthy dinner conversations,” Sally’s mother said as she sipped her tea.

“That would put it lightly. One day Romulus stormed to the table and shook the latest newspaper in his tightened fist.” Colin smiled as his mind traipsed back to that moment so long before.

“This is an outrage.” He pushed the paper into Isaiah’s hands.

“What is an outrage, Son? I see nothing outrageous here. Well, nothing out of the ordinary. This damned Stamp Act is still outrageous, and we will deal with the act. Forget you heard that, Colin.”

Colin, playing a game of Nine Man's Morrice with Jacqueline said, “Consider it forgotten,” losing a turn in the process.

“Here Papa,” Romulus said pointing to a poem.

“It is a poem. What is outrageous about a simple poem?” Isaiah asked as he read the poem.

“The poem was written by a darkie. This Phillis Wheatley is the twelve-year-old slave of a very prominent Boston businessman. He should know better and should keep his niggers in line.” Romulus said, despite the icy stare of his father. “Your cause could be in jeopardy.”

“You are out of order.” Isaiah raised his voice, his brow furrowed at his son. “Apologize to Colin at once for your behavior. Moreover, we won’t speak of causes at this time. Am I clear?”

“I apologize, Colin, please forgive me for my outburst.” He glared at his father, to Colin, and then back to his father.  “Father, I have lost my appetite, may I be excused?”

“What’s wrong with a twelve-year-old slave writing a poem?” asked Sally. “Didn’t we fight a big war so that she could write her poem?”

“Yes Sally, we fought a war so future twelve-year-old girls of any race can write poetry.” Colin smiled at her innocence. “However, it’s not that easy. They thought a poem by a black child would make a difference in any political thoughts back then. They were right.”

“I want to write when I grow up. Maybe I can be the next Harriet Beecher Stowe,” Sally said popping the last morsel of doughnut into her mouth.

“I will be the first to read your book,” Colin said.

“Romulus soon forgot the poem. Life went back to normal. Children and adults continued to call me names, and the occasional threw rotten fruit in my direction. The Adams’ still held their clandestine meetings, and Isaiah attended most of them.”

“The summer of 1765 turned hot, and I am not talking about the weather. On August 14th, I was forced to act against my friend Isaiah and The Sons of Liberty when they made their first act of civil disobedience against the Stamp Act. They gathered around the Liberty Tree and hung Andrew Oliver in effigy. Mr. Oliver was a public official charged with enforcing the Stamp Act. The alcohol-fueled angry mob soon turned riotous. Thousands paraded through the streets of Boston dragging the beheaded effigy of Oliver behind them.”  Colin swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “The mob marched to the Oliver house, tore down the fence, and destroyed the house and its furnishings. The ironic part of this was that Mr. Oliver was also adamantly against the Stamp Act. He was just an easy target.”

“Mobs cannot be reasoned with,” Grant said.

“I had too few men to do anything to turn the tide, so we sat in the distance and watched the carnage.”

I could no longer prudently stay in his home although I had every legal right to force him to board me. I moved to a small room overlooking the Charles the first of September. Everything went status-quo for the next four and a half years. Parliament passed new tax laws. Colonists found new ways to resist. Isaiah got a new neighbor in 1770. A silversmith named Paul Revere bought the ninety-year-old house next to Isaiah. Paul became a friend.” Colin’s eyes filled with tears. He took a sip of his coffee and rubbed his temples. “Some events happen that define an era. The defining moment occurred on a cold, windless day March 5th, 1770. A small layer of snow lay on the ground and the windows iced over. Yes, it was quite cold and dreary that day. A day I shall never forget.” Colin lowered his head.