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  Still laughing, George rose to his full height, which prompted the other man to also stand. He was a towering foot taller than the foreman. He let the visual reminder of his superiority stand on its own merit for a set of heartbeats before grasping his hand. “You have two days to get the fields plowed and ready for planting while I secure the funding.”

  “Understood, sir, and thank you.”

  “Thank the lady of the house,” George said on his way out of his office without turning around. “I certainly intend to mention it when I see her next.”

  Chapter 11: Fitting In

  three days, the ship sat in the bay outside New York City for three hot and smelly days waiting for dock space to open. A great roar of cheers and applause erupted from the passengers when at long last the planks were lowered to the docks. The elation was short lived once everyone realized how slow the line progressed into the customs house.

  Hour after hour, Valnor and Paul picked up the chest, walked two paces forward, then set it down again for twenty or thirty minutes before the line moved again. The midday sun was punishing, as was the stifling humidity that made the air so heavy it almost had a tangible presence. The only relief came in the early evening when a storm front rolled in and drenched those still lining the docks for several hours. It was a welcome relief from the heat, and also served as the first bathing for the colonists in nearly two months. Their collective smell was much improved as a result.

  Valnor’s excitement level began to build as they neared the open door leading into the brick customs house. That emotional high came crashing down when he stepped through the opening and saw the full extent of the line in front of him. The building did not look so large from the outside, but the long, warehouse style structure seemed to extend for miles. Thousands of immigrants filled rope lines that meandered back and forth all the way across the expansive floor space. There had to be five boatloads of people under this roof.

  Time lost all meaning as Valnor and Paul progressed through the line. There was only the sense of daytime or nighttime observed through the windows that were ten feet overhead. In the morning light, they finally lifted the chest and set it down in front of a uniformed man with a doctor wearing a white coat standing behind him.

  “Welcome to New York City,” the man yawned with a heavy Irish accent. After what they went through to stand before this man, Valnor felt entitled to a victory parade. The lackluster greeting would have to suffice. “Open your mouths and raise your arms for a health inspection.”

  “No need to check for lice on either of us,” Valnor commented as the doctor progressed through his checklist. For added emphasis, he pointed to their recently shaved heads. “There’s nowhere left for the critters to hide.”

  The physician seemed to agree as he looked back at the customs officer and gave a lazy thumbs-up gesture. The official seemed almost disappointed with the judgment as he eyed Valnor with a disgusted sneer.

  Valnor took it upon himself to break the tension with a harmless question, “Is it always this busy, or did we just arrive at the wrong time?”

  “Is that some kind of complaint,” the official snapped. “All you did was stand in line. I’ve been working my tail off to process you beggars for the last fifteen hours. You don’t see me whingin’ about it, do ya?”

  Before Valnor could mouth a retort, the man went on with his diatribe. “A year ago we processed two or three ships a week, now we have to handle four or five a day with no extra workers hired. Seems King George can’t get rid of you lot fast enough, and I have to pay the price for it.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I did not mean to give offense,” Valnor said with a contrite bow of his head.

  “That bloody French accent of yours is what offends. Your fellow countrymen are causing all kinds of ruckus out west in the frontier territories. You’d better watch yourself real carefully while you’re in this city.”

  Valnor suppressed a self-satisfied grin at the mention of a growing conflict with the French. He and Captain Hastelloy did well fanning the flames of that conflict and the fruits of their labors were coming into season quite nicely. It seemed that his second crossing of the Atlantic was going to be particularly well timed.

  “I lived in Paris for several years on business, but I am a British subject just like everyone else,” Valnor protested. In truth, he had lived in Paris for several lifetimes. He struggled for many years to acquire the accent to fit in. Now, try as he might, he could not completely shake off the accent.

  “That don’t matter, all I hear is that babbling French drawl; makes my skin crawl. Hope you got family here already that you can stay with and find work through them cause you’re not gonna’ get anything around here sounding like that.”

  “No, neither of us have any family over here. Is that an issue?” Valnor asked as politely as possible.

  “Don’t matter to me none; I’m Irish, I got a job. Irish, Scottish, Welsh, even the Dutch, they all got gangs runnin’ parts of the city. If you’re not one of them though, then you’re not gonna’ get anything around here. Especially sounding French.”

  “Lucky for me, I know of a profession where my ability to speak French will be quite valuable,” Valnor countered.

  “Just so long as I don’t have to listen to it,” the customs official concluded while waving Valnor and Paul through the gate. “Welcome to New York City, now get out of my sight and stay gone you French ferret.”

  “That was certainly less than cordial,” Paul observed as he helped Valnor carry the trunk into the busy streets of New York. “I hope that wasn’t just some idle boast back there. Do you really have a place to go in this city? Otherwise friendship or not, I may have to find my own way from here.”

  “Relax. There is a place for us, but it will wind up taking us out into the frontier territories, I expect,” Valnor answered with a confident wink. “Come on now, we need to find the local barracks commander. He is about to meet his recruiting quota for the month.”

  Chapter 12: Chance Encounters

  FIrst, VAlnor and Paul ventured over to a robust looking fortress standing guard outside the city along the bay waters. There they received the unwelcome news that the army recruiting office was located inside the governor’s mansion, back in the city.

  “You have got to be joking,” Paul protested when the two of them stepped beyond the fortress walls. “We walked all the way out here only to turn around and head right back?”

  The complaint brought an instant grin to Valnor’s face. “If you only knew the amount of marching that lay ahead of you in service of the King’s army. Look on the bright side, you’re not carrying a musket or heavy pack with you - yet.”

  “You really know how to make a young man look forward to his future don’t you?” Paul deadpanned back while retracing his steps back to New York City. “If you expect the recruiter to accept both of us into service, then I suggest you brush up on your salesmanship - a lot.”

  “Convincing an army recruiter to take two young, healthy, able-bodied men will be about as difficult a task as selling water to a man lost in the desert,” Valnor countered. “So long as we draw breath and don’t suffer the pox, we’ll be exactly who he’s looking to enlist. The only thing open to question will be our wage and assignment.”

  “We’re two immigrants fresh off the boat,” Paul challenged. “I don’t see us getting nothin’ more than base pay and going wherever they say.”

  “Oh I’ll bet I can get them to throw in two red coats and a pair of muskets at least,” Valnor said with a wink to let Paul know he was well aware those were the standard provisions issued to every enlisted man.

  Before Paul could voice a comeback, they reached the governor’s mansion. He fell silent and in step behind Valnor as they ascended the steps. At the top, a set of guards stood on either side of the door.

  “What business do you have here?” the one standing on the left asked.

  “We are looking to enlist in his Majesty’s army. The
fortress commander informed me that the recruiting office was to be found here,” Valnor answered.

  “More recruits?” the guard standing watch on the right side asked in genuine surprise. “The major will be buying drinks for sure tonight.”

  “Aye, but unlike the last one, I doubt we’ll be saluting either of them for a while,” the other guard added before opening the door and leading them both inside.

  “You never know,” Valnor said in a half-joking tone with a sideways glance toward Paul, “I’m told I can be quite the salesman when I want to be.”

  The soldier led them through a grand entryway that featured two arcing sets of stairs rising up both sides of the circular room adorned with marble floors and fine art. They progressed down a hallway on the first floor with the opulence of their surroundings diminishing noticeably with every stride they took away from the entrance.

  Before long, there was nothing but barren white walls and plain wooden doors in their sight. They progressed through one of those plain doors into a room with a lieutenant seated at a desk in the middle. Four chairs flanked the door behind them on both sides, while a closed office door occupied the far wall.

  “New recruits,” the soldier announced.

  “Ah, thank you,” the lieutenant said without even bothering to lift his head from his paperwork. “Take a seat, the major is in a meeting.”

  The soldier who escorted them in stood unmoving as Valnor and Paul found their seats. Several minutes passed before the increasingly agitated enlisted man cleared his throat to regain the lieutenant’s attention. Still without looking up and sounding inconvenienced to do so, the young officer said, “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

  The soldier looked ready to thrash his superior at the blatant display of arrogance, but soon found his inner calm once more. “As ordered, sir.”

  Valnor had to bite the inside of his lip to avoid letting loose a laugh. The lieutenant probably did not even realize the offense his actions gave. He was clearly the product of prep school learning back in England. There, every rich and entitled pupil learned a multitude of passive aggressive ways to assert their dominance in such situations.

  Tactics like not looking up while issuing orders to a lesser, thereby assuming compliance was a given. Also, pretending to forget a lesser was even present in the room was another common practice. Schoolmasters did it to them, and the elite did it to each other. It came as naturally to them as breathing did to others.

  While Valnor and Paul sat quietly in their respective chairs, it became apparent that a sizeable meeting was taking place in the office behind the closed door. There were at least three distinct voices with increasingly agitated emotions fueling them. Knowing that one of them belonged to the major he would soon meet, Valnor listened in for any tidbits that would prove useful in his own negotiation for service.

  “Mr. Washington, we are of course delighted to hear you are willing to serve in the army once more,” one voice said.

  “Out in the frontier territories no less,” a second voice added before the first continued.

  “My hesitation in granting you the commission you seek has nothing to do with the compensation and special tax consideration you ask for in return. My concern is for your safety. Such dangerous duty is beneath a man of your…standing and importance. I’m sure there are other arrangements we can make to better accommodate you and your new wife.”

  “What do you have in mind, Governor?” a soft voice, presumably belonging to this Mr. Washington, asked.

  Valnor felt his posture instinctively straighten upon hearing that title announced. This was not just any meeting taking place behind that door. He counted his blessings for being privy to it, albeit, from the outside listening in.

  “Tell me, have you heard of The Ohio Company?” the governor asked.

  “I have not,” Washington answered with a touch of confusion behind his words.

  “I’m not surprised. It’s a rather small trapping and trading firm operating mostly in the frontier territories. All of us in this room, plus a few other investors, own shares in the company. Despite its lack of scale, the investment does manage to turn a tidy profit for us,” the governor boasted.

  “How very entrepreneurial of you,” a now apprehensive sounding Mr. Washington added.

  “Yes, quite. The thing is, there’s a narrow window of opportunity to secure infinitely more profits. All we need do is raise enough funds to take advantage of it.”

  “I fail to see how I can help in that regard,” Washington responded. “My lack of funds is what brings me here offering to serve in the King’s Army once more. Not to mention my indebtedness to the crown for back property taxes.”

  “Your name is the only asset you need,” the governor countered with dramatic flair. “Adding such a prominent family name to our list of owners will draw investors from every corner of the colonies. We’ll have more funding than we know what to do with. In exchange for using your namesake, we will cover your debts to the crown, give you 2,000 pounds to seed your crops, and a five percent ownership in the firm.”

  Valnor and Paul exchanged wide-eyed looks of wonder at the vast sums of money being batted around in the next room. A lifetime of wages with assured opulence and comfort were his, Mr. Washington only had to say yes. Of course he would agree to their terms.

  “That is a profoundly generous offer, gentlemen, but I am afraid I must decline,” Washington answered. “I cannot accept compensation for any services I did not render.”

  “What? Of course you can!” the governor challenged as if it were the most ludicrous statement ever uttered.

  “Doing so is beneath my honor,” Washington countered with rock hard resolve.

  “Fine,” a diplomatic voice announced over the angry growl that emitted from the governor. “I think Mr. Washington would do quite nicely as our chairman of the ownership board. You could run our annual meetings and such to earn your wage.”

  “That would be far too rich a compensation for such a simple duty,” Washington stated in a voice filled with contempt and frustration at the continued assault on his sense of duty and honor.

  “I see,” the indignant governor responded after a few moments spent regaining his composure. “Well then, Colonel, what service opportunities do we have for Lieutenant Colonel Washington here?”

  “I have an expedition of a few hundred men set to leave the day after tomorrow,” the colonel answered. “I must warn you, they will be deployed along the frontier border with French territories where they have significantly greater numbers. It is a dangerous command I was intending to give to a more…expendable…junior officer.”

  “There you have it, Mr. Washington. Become an investor with the Ohio Company on the brink of a major profit windfall, or assume command of that dangerous deployment for an officer’s wage, some debt relief, and a loan for next year’s crops. The choice is yours, but honestly, is it really even a choice?” the governor concluded.

  “No it isn’t…I accept the officer’s commission and the frontier command,” Washington answered, and Valnor swore he felt a rush of air blow past him as everyone else in that room exhaled in frustration.

  Paul leaned over and whispered into Valnor’s ear. “That is the most honorable man I have ever heard exist. I hope we get to serve under him and not those other manipulative snakes.”

  “Perhaps, but look what it got him. You and I are in no position to worry about honor right now. Our negotiation will go quite different from that one. Whatever I say, just smile, nod, and go with it. Understood?” Valnor managed to whisper back before the office door flung open.

  First to leave the room was the resentment-filled governor. Close behind exited the major. Next came Washington dressed in civilian clothes. Last to exit was the colonel. Valnor recognized none of them by sight, save the last man. His was a face he would never forget. He was indeed a manipulative snake, and an accessory to murder. Things got very personal for Valnor in that moment. What a small place th
is New World is turning out to be.

  “Colonel Clinton, it was a pleasure meeting you, sir,” Mr. Washington said with a salute to his superior. After receiving a dismissing salute in reply, he addressed the others, “Major, Governor, I bid you good day.”

  The honorable man left the room without another wood. The two less honorable men paused to exchange frustrated looks before leaving as well. The major turned on his heels and headed for his office, but his aide stopped him.

  “Major, there are two new recruits waiting to speak with you. Would you like me to send them in now, or shall I have them come back another time?” the obedient lieutenant asked.

  The major stopped in his tracks and turned to glance behind at Valnor and Paul who immediately found their feet upon feeling they were under inspection. An evaluating eye passed over them both for several heartbeats before the major voiced his response, “Send them in. I could use a good laugh about now. Have my tea ready when we’re finished. Oh and lieutenant, by the look of these two that should not be long.”

  “Yes, sir,” the lieutenant answered jumping right into his beverage preparing duties.

  “Tell me, why should I allow two hopeless wrecks like you to join our glorious army,” the major demanded from Valnor as they proceeded into the office.

  “I have prior military service, sir, and the boy can play a drum like he bribed the skills from the devil himself,” Valnor boasted.

  “Do you now?” the major asked with understandable skepticism, before leaning in to probe the validity of the claim. He did not have the service records of every British soldier to reference, so the major would need to rely on his own judgment to tell if the statement was true or false. “Where did you serve?”

  “I was drafted into service during the Jacobite Uprising in 1745,” Valnor explained with an easy, conversational pace to his words. “When the Stuart army landed in the Scottish Highlands, the regular army was still fighting the War of Austrian Succession on mainland Europe. We were rushed up north and met the Jacobite forces at Prestonpans.”