Chapter Twenty-three

New York City April 30, 1789, Philadelphia February 1, 1799, Washington D.C. March 26, 1801

“Major Dunehirst got what he deserved,” Sally said, her eyes sparkling, “They should have given you a medal.”

“You know it’s not polite to say those things. Nobody deserves to die,” her mother said tight-lipped.

“They do too, Mommy. The man that killed Daddy deserves to die,” Sally slammed her hand on the table and stomped her feet.

“No, Sally, it was war. Many good men perish in battle.” Grant turned to Colin. “Where did you go, Colin?”

“Well, general, like many adventurers of my time, I went west.”

Sally’s mother grasped Colin’s arm then quickly removed her hand, fanning herself.

“I went as far west as I dared to go. A wild, uncivilized territory called New York City,” Colin said with a laugh. He roared with his hands on his knees, rocking.

“Oh my, I imagine your living conditions were hazardous at best,” Sally’s mother said and winked. “You were very brave.”

“New York City is not a wilderness, Momma.”

“We know, Sally, Colin was telling a joke.”

“Me, telling a joke? New York City was untamed, what with all the Congressmen and on-lookers verging into the new capital city.” Colin’s speech changed, “I had four years of relative peace and tranquility. And would probably have remained hidden to the public had I not chosen to join the throngs of well-wishers April 30th, 1789.”

The street in front of Federal Hall on Wall Street was near pandemonium. Crowds stood elbow to elbow jostling to get a glimpse of the elected president. The crowd was in a joyous mood, yelling and heralding President Washington’s name. A few in the crowd added Vice President Adam’s name in their adulations, a personal affront not unnoticed by John Adams. An ear-piercing shout erupted the moment President Washington stepped onto the balcony followed by the Chancellor of New York, Robert Livingston.

Those on the balcony asked for silence from the crowd so that Chancellor Livingston could administer the oath of office to the new president. The noise of the boisterous crowd slowed to a murmur and then to silence. Washington placed his hand on a carefully worn Bible and followed the words of the Chancellor. President Washington turned to greet the crowd after taking the oath. He waved to the throng and stopped long enough to point out an individual in the crowd. He whispered into the ear of an aide and pointed again. The aide nodded and snapped his fingers at two liveried men. The aide stared at Colin in the crowd, and the liveried men nodded and left the balcony.

People craned their necks to get a glimpse of the man in the crowd. Colin, who had somehow jockeyed himself to the front of the line, felt as if every eye was on him. He returned a slight head nod as Washington retreated from the balcony. The crowd stood quietly muttering to one another as six soldiers plucked Colin from their midst and escorted him to the building.

Soldiers halted at the entranceway and turned Colin over to an officer. And the crowd murmured as the soldiers returned to their sentry posts. An officer who Colin recognized as George Rogers Clark, was cordial as he escorted Colin to a room on the first floor. “President Washington and his guests will greet you shortly after he completes his inauguration speech.” He turned on his heels, leaving Colin alone in the room. The room was ornately furnished. Beautiful high-back chairs lined one wall. A dozen wing-backed chairs sat in a circle in the center of the room. Each chair had its own intricately carved side table. Rich paintings adorned the walls. Magnificent tapestries hung between the paintings. The room reminded him of his first impression of Duke Robert’s castle in Normandy so many years ago. Colin was soon lost to his emotions. His mind went to the thought of Alison, something he had not done for a long time. He ran his fingers over the tops of the chairs, remembering Alison’s smile, her touch, and her beautiful eyes. He closed his eyes and danced with a curtain.  The memories dissolved when the president entered the room, accompanied by three other men, catching him holding the curtain.

Washington placed his hand over his mouth and coughed. “I would have given you an invitation to the inaugural speech if you had given me word you would be here, Captain Harcourt,” President Washington said, extending his hand. “Your dance partner was already here.”

“Congratulations, Mr. President.” Colin shook his hand.

“Please call me George, for now. I am not accustomed to the formality of being Mr. President just yet. They wanted to make me a king, you know. Imagine another King George, preposterous.”

John Adams cleared his throat. A definite sign that the president was not following proper etiquette as far as introducing guests were concerned.

“Where are my manners?” The president glared harshly at his vice president, his steel-blue eyes chastising John. “Allow me to introduce my colleagues.”

“There is no need for introductions,” a frail Benjamin Franklin said from his wheelchair. “Both these gentlemen met Mr. Harcourt in Philadelphia many years ago.” A look of surprise came to Thomas Jefferson and John Adam’s face.

“You are mistaken, Ben,” John said. “Your age is playing tricks on you. The man is way too young to have met us in Philadelphia many years ago.”

“There is no mistake, John. Quit acting like an ass. Take another look. Colin and I go back even further once in Philadelphia some thirty years ago and once in England.”

“He looks somewhat familiar.” Jefferson removed his glasses.

“I believe you owe me your story now, Mr. Harcourt. We are not getting any younger,” Ben said adjusting his blankets.

“You have never told Ben your story?” the president asked. “Well, it's pastime, sit down Tom and John, this is one hell of a story, I didn’t believe it at first. Go ahead, Colin. Your secret is safe with us.”

Colin told his story, leaving things out on purpose. Ben smiled ear to ear once the story ended. “Amazing, simply amazing, it exceeded my expectations. I am happy you don’t practice in the black arts, as I had previously suspected.”

“May I see the scarab and the letter?” asked Thomas, “I can see no scientific properties to this necklace,” he said examining the Scarab around Colin’s neck, “yet the story is so absurd and mystifying, one has to believe it. Mr. Harcourt, you may visit Monticello any time you wish. I have so many questions to ask.”

John Adams shook his head, skeptical. The door opened before he could say anything.  A liveried servant entered the room. “Pardon my interruption, Mr. President, but your guests are getting impatient for the gala to begin.”

“Yes, yes, tell them we are on our way,” the president said standing up. “Colin, would you wish to join us?”

“I am sure Mr. Harcourt has more pressing matters to attend to,” John Adams said with a slight emphasis on the last words.

“I would be delighted to join the gala, as long as I am not asked to dance. I am much too old to dance, right Dr. Franklin?” Colin said as he pushed the feeble statesman to the gala.

 

“That was the last time I saw either George Washington or Ben Franklin alive. Ben passed away almost a year to the day at eighty-six. General Washington retired after two terms in office. He finally got a taste of the private life he and Martha had yearned. He passed away a little over two years after he left office.”

“By now you must know my scarab,” he said touching his chest, “communicates in a way that even I don’t understand. The damned thing insisted I go to their funeral.”

“Franklins and Washington’s?” asked James.

“Yes, I attended Ben’s funeral, but it wasn’t the Scarab's fault I missed the president’s funeral, there’s no story. Truthfully, there was no time, as Martha entombed my friend and former general at Mount Vernon just four days after his death. But, I was invited to attend his memorial at the Lutheran Church in February.”

“There is a story behind Washington’s memorial service?” James asked meekly.

“Oh, yes,” Colin exclaimed, “There’s a story.”

“I am sorry, sir, but the service is only for members of Congress and their immediate families. You will have to move along,” the short, rotund guard said to Colin.

“Isn’t there a way I can sneak in unnoticed? It is crucial,” Colin, pleaded.

“I am sorry, sir, but that is not possible.” The guard snapped to attention. Looking straight ahead, the guard addressed the new arrivals. “Good morning, Mr. President and Mr. Vice President, most of the Congress are here and awaiting your arrival.”

Colin turned around and stood face to face with President Adams and Vice President Jefferson. “Hello, John and Thomas,” Colin said trying to be nonchalant.

The guard, who still was standing at attention said, “This man insists on attending the service even after I informed him the service was closed to the public.”

President Adams gave Colin a curt nod without saying a word but turned to his vice president seeking what to do.

“I would hope that this man would wish to attend the service, he was one of President Washington’s closest friends and confidants while he was alive.” Jefferson held the door open.

The guard stood at attention, his eyes glued forward. “But sir, the president himself decreed this service was closed to all but Congress and their family.”

“Nonsense, Captain, the president is standing right here, and he has yet to say nay to Colin’s admittance,” Thomas said.

John Adams frowned and clenched his walking stick tighter, “The man is with us. Now, kindly step aside, Captain so we can enter. They can’t start without us.”

Shocked, the guard held the door open for the president and his guest.

“Thank you, John,” Colin whispered.

John stared at Colin. There was no friendship in his eyes. “Show me the respect due me and address me as Mr. President, and for God’s sake, age damn it,” he said and stalked off.

“He has never liked you much,” Thomas whispered. “Search for me after the service. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. I’m sorry, but I must take my seat on the dais. We must speak afterward.”

Colin sat in the back row as the pastor stood to speak. He paid little attention to what the pastor was saying. His mind was too busy wondering why Thomas Jefferson wanted to talk to him. The pastor stopped speaking and interrupted his thoughts.

“I now present Henry Lee, who had the privilege of serving under General Washington during the war. He will offer the eulogy,”

Henry Lee approached the podium. Stood ridged and peered into the crowd. Lee hesitated, cleared his throat, and wiped a tear from his eyes. “I am honored to have been chosen to speak on behalf of my good friend. I will be brief,” he paused and took a sip of water, “First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen. He was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private life, pious, just, humane, temperate, sincere, uniform, dignified and commanding. His example was as edifying to all those around him as were the effects of that example lasting. Correct throughout. Vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering hand. The purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtue. Such is the man for whom our nation mourns.” Henry gazed into the crowd, bowed his head and returned to his chair.

Colin approached Vice President Jefferson, but his aides turned him away. Colin left the service without meeting with Thomas.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said. “Come walk with me. I have so much to discuss with you.”

Colin turned to see his friend, Thomas smiling at him. “I searched you out several times, but you were engaged with people superior to my standing.”

“Superior to my standing also,” Thomas said with a smile. “Fame and my titled office dictate I must occasionally converse with scoundrels and Congress. I must admit that at times they are interchangeable.”

Jefferson grew more serious and tense. He had glanced from side to side before he continued. “It is no secret that for some time my mind has increasingly wondered what lies in store to the far west. I mean west of the Mississippi River.”

Colin looked from side to side. “But that land belongs to France and Spain, why would you care?”

“It’s an obsession, and I intend to act on it,” Thomas whispered in Colin’s ear.

“And what do you intend my part to be in your obsession?” Colin said questionably.

“Why isn’t it obvious?” Jefferson smiled, snatching two drinks from a tray as a servant glided by. “I intend that you be my first action to ratify my obsession.” He sipped from the delicate glass, dribbles of wine escaping down his chin.  “I wish for you to go to St. Louis and discover the possibilities of exploration. You must do this in secrecy. We wouldn’t want to step on Spanish toes.”

Colin jumped from his chair. “I am not an explorer. Why would you think I know anything about the Wild West or exploration?”

“Aw but you are the ultimate explorer, my good friend.” Jefferson inspected his empty wine glass. “You have explored history like no other. It would be a pity if you lost out on this part of our history.”

“May I have time to consider your request?” Colin shook his head.

“I plan on running for the presidency later this year. I believe it’s far pastime for our friend, John Adams, to return to his private practice. Come see me next spring after I become president.” Thomas showed a wry smile. “Oh, look, speak of the devil. Are you ready to leave, John?”

A cold, cloudless day surrounded the new capital city. Constant rainfall had made the city’s streets impassable mud ruts. They swore in Colin’s friend, Thomas Jefferson, as the third president of the United States, it was the first inauguration held in Washington D. C.

Colin paced in the foyer of the newly complete Presidential Mansion. Boxes and crates towered over him, stacked all over the hall. Some crates labeled Adams while others labeled Jefferson. Burly workers busily loaded the boxes labeled Adams onto a wagon. A cold gust of wind found its way through an open door freezing Colin to the bone.

“Masser Jefferson will see you now,” said the liveried porter. The porter guided Colin through the mansion was in disarray and stopped before a simple white door.

Thomas Jefferson sat behind a desk littered with papers and books. Some stacked high enough to hide the newly elected president.

“Congratulations, Mr. President,” Colin said to the man who had not looked up to acknowledge his entrance.

Thomas sat silently studying a paper before him. Finally, he took his quill from its stopper and quickly signed the document. “Affairs of state,” he said as he strutted around his cluttered desk. “I am not sure I would have accepted the nomination had I known how many monkeys I would have to sleep with.” Shaking Colin’s hand, he asked, “What brings you here?”

A well-dressed person entered from another door and sidled up to Thomas. “Mr. President, have you forgotten our last meeting?”

"I have not. You must forgive me, but I have been busy.” He dismissed the man with a wave.  “Have you considered my offer to survey the possibilities of exploring the west?”

Colin waited for the man to leave the room. “I have, sir. I accept the offer, and I am ready to go to St. Louis immediately.”

“Excellent,” the president said with a smile.