Chapter Twenty-one

Philadelphia summer 1776

Colin waited nervously outside General Washington’s field command tent. He debated in his mind what he would say to the general. It was difficult to hide his secret from Isaiah and Jacqueline although he was quite sure they had figured out some of it. Would he also need to keep it from his newly appointed commander-in-chief?  He could be lucky, and maybe General Washington would not remember him. After all, it had been almost twenty years since they served together in the French and Indian Wars. Pacing, his mind racing, he thought briefly about running, but the general’s aide-de-camp stepped up to him before he could decide.

“The General will see you now,” the aide said as he held the tent flap open.

Colin thanked the aide but received no response.

General Washington sat behind a clutter-free, small field desk. His sandy brown hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. While his white powder wig hung on a peg on a wooden post behind him. A sword and hat hung on a peg on a similar post to his right. Washington did not look up when Colin entered the dimly lit tent. He intently read a letter in his hand, shaking his head as he read. “How does the Continental Congress expect me to do my duty without requisitioning what I sorely need?” It was obvious the general was not talking to Colin or anyone.

Standing at attention, Colin cleared his throat. General Washington placed the letter in a neatly stacked pile of papers. He stared at Colin as if he had seen a ghost, and then he interlocked his fingers without standing and peered at Colin. Washington picked up a piece of paper that was in a pile of its own, and he rustled the paper before reading the article to himself. “Do you wonder what this article tells me?” he said looking at Colin once again.

“No, sir, it is none of my business,” Colin said with respect.

Washington smiled for the first time. “Ah, but it is your business. The report states that we have a former British Officer in our midst and fighting as a captain to boot.”

Colin did not know how to answer the general. His heart raced.

“Relax, Captain. This is not an official visit, yet.” The general stood and strode over to Colin with his hands interlocked behind his back. Looking into Colin’s eyes, the general smiled again. “You are the mirror image of your father, Captain Harcourt.”

Colin was speechless.

“How is your father? I hope he is well and living the life of leisure somewhere in the British countryside.” Washington placed his folded hands on his desk.

Colin’s mind flashed. The general thought he was his son. “My father is well, thank you.” He weighed whether he should tell his commanding officer the truth or not. He buried his past and lie to Washington, but the scarab had different ideas.  Instead of the lie, he said, “It's good to see you again, General.”

Washington’s expression changed. He tried to form a sentence, but he glanced at Colin bewildered.

Colin shifted his stance he had suddenly become uncomfortable. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I am Colin.”

General Washington’s eyes narrowed. “You take me for a fool?” he said as he returned to his desk and sat in his chair mindlessly sorting piles of papers. “You’re excused to go back to your unit.”

“May I have a moment of your time before I leave?” Colin swatted at an annoying fly. “I can prove I am who I say I am.”

General Washington looked at Colin dubiously but relented.

“Do you remember when we escorted General Braddock’s body off the battlefield?” Colin waited for the answer.

“I do, but anyone can read facts about the battle.” Washington stood near his desk, looking at Colin.

Colin swallowed hard. “There was another, besides your aide to assist us. Do you remember his name?”

“Vaguely.” Washington was losing his temper, and Colin could tell he was walking delicate ground with him.

“His name was Isaiah Paige.” Colin looked for any sign that the name meant anything to his general.

General Washington’s demeanor changed. “That name is not common knowledge.”

Colin moved closer to the desk. “Do you remember what you told me when I was sent home before the war was over?”

“I do.” The general fell into his chair.

Leaning on the desk, Colin gazed into the General’s eyes. “You told me orders were orders and said you would be remembered as a failure if you were remembered at all. You planned on retiring to Mount Vernon to live the rest of your life in obscurity, but here you are, commanding a small army against the might of the British army.”

The General’s eyes softened as he looked at Colin. “Tell me everything. I do find your claim almost impossible to believe. You would be nearly fifty if your story had any truth to it.”

“I am somewhat older than fifty,” Colin said, producing the scarab necklace from his shirt.

“What is that?” asked the general, peering at the Scarab through spectacles he had produced from a vest pocket.

“That, Sir, is the beginning of my story.” Colin spent the next two hours reciting his past life to the general. He produced a tattered letter from his pocket.

Washington read the letter. “Amazing, simply amazing,” He placed his spectacles on the desk, straightened his coat, and sat in his chair.  “However, I called you here for a reason.”

“And what would that reason be, sir?” asked Colin placing his Scarab under his shirt.

“I thought we could use your expertise to our benefit. When I heard we had a British officer in our midst, I thought this Officer could teach my staff how to think and act like British officers.” Colin couldn’t hide his confused look from Washington. “Let me say it more concise. If we know how a British officer will act in a particular altercation, we can use that to our advantage.”

Colin rubbed his chin in contemplation. “It would be an honor, but alas, I was a poor officer. I failed miserably in my first mission. My superior officer has sworn to kill me because of my actions in Lexington. I fear you have backed the wrong horse.”

Washington, now more relaxed, sat with his hands interlocked behind his desk. “I have confidence in your ability. How did you fail in your first mission?”

Colin shrugged. “I was ordered to arrest Patrick Henry because of his traitorous statements back in 1765, but he escaped.”

Washington sat at the desk, leaning with his chin resting on his thumb and one finger on his jaw. “Then you didn’t fail. You succeeded. Patrick has been instrumental in our fight for colony rights. His ‘give me liberty or give me death’ speech has given us all a reason to continue our struggle.”

“I am just not sure I am the right man for the job. I failed to live up to expectations. I have failed Dr. Franklin.” Colin moved away from the desk and wrung his hands together.

“Do you know Ben?” the general asked surprised. “Oh yes, you met him in Philadelphia years ago. Tell me how you failed his expectations?”

“Yes, I met him in Philadelphia. I also met him in London. He was in the company of William Pitt.” General Washington looked surprised and impressed. “It was Dr. Franklin that helped me decide to come to America. He said that the colonies could use a steady British mind to champion their rights among the less than enthusiastic British officers.”

“That’s all well and good. From all reports, you have been an exemplary inspiration. I don’t see that you have let anybody down,” he said leaning forward.

“Sir, I ran and hid at the first sign of trouble.” Colin was afraid to meet his commanding officer’s stare.

“Hid? It seems you have hidden smack-dab in the middle of the action. I have a position on my staff. If you are willing to accept,” the general said with conviction.

“I joined George Washington’s staff July 4th, 1775, just two days after he was assigned as General in charge of the Continental Army. Six months later the war took a change. It was our purpose to fight for our rights as colonists, but to remain British subjects.”

“What changed?” asked James.

“I believe I know,” Grant confessed. “Was that when John Adams and Congress met in Philadelphia?”

“Not exactly, that was when a British scholar who had been in the colonies less than two years, published a pamphlet advocating independence. Maybe you have heard of him and his pamphlet.” Colin smiled.

“Thomas Paine and Common Sense,” Grant said nodding and stroking his beard.

“Yes, that pamphlet led most of us to believe we could achieve total independence from England. Sure there were those like Adams that advocated independence from the beginning, but Paine helped many to realize it might be possible.”

Colin sipped his coffee and made a face. The coffee had turned cold. “By early summer in 1776 George Washington was in trouble. Thirty man-of-war battleships and nearly four hundred transport ships sat anchored in the New York Harbor. The British had recruited Hessian mercenaries from Germany, American Indians, and black slaves. Washington, now in Brooklyn, ordered his troops to dig in and wait.”

“On June 12th, I was called to the mansion he had commandeered for his command center.” Colin stared at his cold coffee cup.

Colin didn’t have the luxury of wondering why the general had called him to the command post so late at night. He was ushered at the moment he arrived. Washington was not alone. Another officer stood by his side arguing his point. The officer stopped when he noticed Colin step into the room. Colin recognized the officer immediately, even though he had only met him briefly years ago when the officer was a young message carrier. Colin glared at his fellow officer. Something was familiar about him. “Have we met?”

Washington had interceded before Colin had the time to answer. “His father fought with us during the last war. I sent a message to him. You were the carrier if I recall. He is the exact image of his father. We will continue our discussion about West Point later. I have important matters to discuss with Captain Harcourt.”

Arnold hesitated. Colin could tell by his pursed lips that Arnold was not finished with his argument. However, Colin could see that the general who sat at his desk rustling papers, had determined that Arnold would not finish his argument today. Captain Arnold bowed at the waist, collected his sword and hat from a servant, and departed without further acknowledgment of Colin.

Washington waited for his officer to leave before he continued. “Have a seat, Colin. I apologize for cutting you off like that, but the less Arnold knows, the better. Benedict is an excellent officer, albeit too ambitious.” Washington sat on the end of his desk facing Colin. He fumbled through papers to his right, finally settling on a newspaper clipping dated June 7th. “Please read this. It’s from a fellow Virginian by the name of Richard Henry Lee.”

Colin read the clipping and returned it. “The sentiments are very inspirational, sir.”

Washington placed the clipping back onto the pile. “Yes, they are. Lee’s public proclamation that ‘these United States are and of right ought to be free and independent states’ should cause a stir in Parliament, and should get our representatives in Philadelphia off their sorry, lazy butts and react. However, we cannot continue to fight on newspaper clippings and public proclamations. We need supplies and funds. Mr. Paine and Mr. Lee have the knack of stirring a hornet’s nest in Parliament, but we need a hornet’s nest stirred in Philadelphia.”

“How may I be of assistance, sir?” Colin shifted in his chair.

“I need you to go to Philadelphia and stir the nest. Get me supplies and funds. Your friendship with Dr. Franklin will give you all the credentials you will need. That and this letter from me will open the doors for you.” Washington sat back in his chair, his fingertips touching like a steeple. 

“When do I leave?” Colin stood and crisply saluted.

“I have already saddled my finest horse. You leave at once.” Washington slapped his knee and smiled.

“Sounds familiar, isn’t that how your adventure started?” laughed Grant. “I mean, carrying a secret letter to Normandy, with no time to relax before you get underway.”

“I see your point, General. It seems I keep ending up carrying secret letters. However, this time, I had almost no misfortunes on my way from New York to Philadelphia.”

“Almost?” asked Sally.

“Well, I ran into British patrols along the way, but I could convince them I was an undercover agent for the Crown. My knowledge of Major Dunehirst was most helpful. Until I ran into a patrol led by the Major.”

“You ran into your sworn enemy?” asked Grant.

Colin cupped his chin with one hand. “Yes, fortunately, there was a detachment of Colonial militia hiding in the woods poised to ambush British reconnaissance spies. One minute Major Dunehirst has a pistol leveled at my head, and the next minute all hell broke loose. I can still see the hate in the major’s eyes and the wet spot in his trousers when the bullet entered his shoulder. Major Dunehirst slumped to the ground. Thinking he was mortally hit. I galloped away, not looking back.”

“Unfortunately, the major did not die,” Colin said in a half whisper. “I entered Philadelphia the 26th of June 1776. I tried for two days, but Congress would not allow me to present my letter; they were somewhat busy as you might have guessed. The scarab had other plans. It led me to the Blue Anchor Inn, an establishment I had only entered once before. It was the very same inn that I had met Benjamin Franklin in decades ago.”

Benjamin sat facing the door, and his friends sat around the table pounding a beer. Franklin’s jaw dropped as Colin entered. He waved to quiet all discussion.

Franklin jumped up to greet his old friend, “As I live and breathe, I never thought I would see you again, Colin, but you do have a way of popping up at fortunate times. Come in, come in, you haven’t changed at all. The apples have been good to you. I am eager to hear your story. After this little business with Mother Country has been resolved.” Franklin led Colin to his table. “Introductions are in order. Gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing Colin Harcourt, one of his Majesties finest officers.” A hush of secrecy fell over the table.

“I have changed the errors of my ways. I have been fighting on your side since Lexington.” Colin stood with his hat clutched in his hand.

A shorter man with dark brown hair stood up and offered Colin, his hand. “Splendid, John Adams at your service.”

“Don’t get too close to Adams, he is not very well liked by his fellow men,” Ben said, followed by an infectious laugh. “Allow me, that is Roger Sherman from Connecticut,” he said pointing. “This is Robert Livingston from New York. The somber shy one, avoiding eye contact is Thomas Jefferson from Virginia. He’s not in a good mood.”

Colin acknowledged those at the table, “Why is Mr. Jefferson in a somber mood?”

“They crucified his baby today in Congress,” Adams said, pouring wine for the new guest.

“They did what?” Colin said in horror.

“Oh, not literally, figuratively speaking,” Roger, said wiping beer of his lips with a lacy handkerchief.

“No, it was literal,” Jefferson, said pounding his hand on the table. “I told you that you should have written the damned thing, John.”

“Nonsense, first you are a Virginian, and it needed to be drafted by a Virginian. The second reason is I am obnoxious and as Ben has already stated, unpopular. And lastly, you are ten times the writer I am.”

“Can someone please tell me what are we talking about?” Colin asked. “What did Mr. Jefferson write?”

The entire table stared at Colin as if he had food on his face. “Gentleman, we have forgotten that Colin just entered our fair city two days ago,” Franklin said saving Colin from further embarrassment.

“Jefferson has written our Declaration of Independence. We presented it to Congress earlier today. The vultures immediately began revisions.”

“I have a letter from General Washington that needs action from Congress at once,” Colin said, handing Adams the letter.

Adams returned the letter without looking at it. “The letter will have to wait until the Declaration is passed.”

“We are doomed,” Robert said, “that damned fool Dickenson has required that the vote be unanimous, which is doubtful with Caesar Rodney’s failing health, and the other delegate from Pennsylvania too afraid to oppose Dickenson.”

Franklin slapped Colin on the back, “We have a struggle ahead of us. Join us tomorrow and watch how ego can bog down Congress. We will see if we all hang separately or all together,” he said with a smile.

The day was hot and humid. Sweat fell from everyone in Independence Hall. The delegates had voted not to open the windows because the flies were so fearsome. Intense heat added to the tension and electrified the room.

“We are about to brave a storm in a skiff of paper,” Dickinson concluded his argument.

“We are in the very midst of the revolution, the most complete, unexpected, and remarkable of any in the history of the world,” John Adams added in rebuttal.

The clouds thickened, darkened and were more threatening than before. Lightning flashed in the distance. Then a thunderstorm blew in with large rain drops fell with no mercy onto poor citizens that were unable to find safety. The temperature outside lowered by fifteen degrees while the infernal heat in the delegate room raised by what seemed to be twenty degrees.

Rain splashed against the windows as Adams continued, “The object, which is in our view, is great and we must expect a great expense of blood to get it."

Lightning erupted as if on cue from God as Adams finished with his finger in the air