sympathies and underestimated the patriots. Whatever its ultimate effect on the American Cause, the failure of his argument had immediate consequences for Jake. Burgoyne stomped from the office with the governor at his heels, both men silent, though no doubt cursing each other with great vigor inside their heads. Carelton happened to look toward the stairs, which Jake was just starting to descend.
Despite the dim light, despite the disguise, despite his preoccupations, despite fortune, luck, and Providence, Carleton recognized Jake immediately.
“ Stop that man!” he yelled as loudly and indignantly as any royal governor had yelled these past three years of rebellion. “Stop him!”
Stop him! The very phrase has a certain epic ring to it, a certain correctness: one wants to be the subject of it. Great forces are set in motion with these simple words. Other cries are taken up, alarms spread. Hearts beat double and triple time. All hell breaks loose. Just the sort of thing to make your night.
Especially if you’re a spy and the halter waits as a reward for your capture. Jake leapt to the bottom of the stairs and rushed down the hallway to the ballroom. Along the way, he doffed his eye patch, most of the plasters, and his wig, in effect taking up a new disguise undisguised. Once at the entryway to the ballroom, he dodged through as politely as possible, smiling to the right, apologizing to the left, spinning and sliding as if he were being followed by no one more troubling than a dancer whose toe he had stepped on.
“ Stop that man!” Carleton shouted again as he reached the ballroom.”
“ I’ll get him Governor!” answered Jake, leaping toward the back door.
He was three steps from the doorway when he saw the soldiers who’d been posted outside coming through, bayonet points first. Jake veered to the right, looking for a suitable detour.
There were no more doors, but there were plenty of windows. Grabbing a small chair from the side of the room, Jake threw it before him, knocking the small panes of the large window in a great crash. He then hurled himself through, covering his face with his arms and rolling to the pavement, quite possibly breaking half his bones in the process.
He had no time for an inventory. Carleton had not given up his blasted shouting, and the alarm was spreading to the street and nearby environs. Jake stumbled forward to his feet, hoping for some sort of momentum to take him across the Parade Square to the Water Gate.
That would not have been a wise way to go, being that there were even more soldiers at that particular spot than any other in the city. As so often happens in such cases, however, Fortune provided for our hero, causing at that moment a large gray steed to rush across in front of him, right to left. Jake, never one to question the whims of a lady, leapt immediately to the horses back.
Fortune is not without her little jokes, however. In this case, while providing Jake with the means of escaping his pursuer, she gave him two other difficulties to contend with. Number one — the horse was being ridden by a major of the British cavalry, who objected strenuously to an unpaid passenger. Number two — the horse was heading in the direction of the boatyard, where a troop of soldiers were encamped.
The British major was undoubtedly brave and strong, but Jake had the superior motivation — he garroted the fellow with a hastily rolled handkerchief and pulled strongly to one side: when the major resisted, Jake used his weight and a kick in the horse’s flank to change their momentum. The major went tumbling overboard.
The second problem took longer to solve, partly because Jake, his head still swirling from his plunge through the window to the pavement, did not realize which way he was going. It was only when he saw several shadows looming in the dark, answering the general alarm, that he realized his mistake.
What does one say to an armed host when one’s suddenly sprung into their midst, and people running down the road are shouting various variations of “Stop that man!”?
“ Who’s in charge here? Sound the alarm! Hurry, a spy has escaped!”
And so Jake quickly rallied his pursuit, mustering the men and sending them down the quay back towards the governor’s palace, ready to shoot anything that looked vaguely Americans.
He, meanwhile, sought out something to get onto the St. Lawrence with. A small birch canoe presented itself at the end of the wharf; Jake dove from the horse into the craft, pushing off into the water in the same motion.
It would have been more convenient if the boat had paddles. Nonetheless, he was able to make decent progress by leaning over the sides and rowing with his arms; by the time they felt as if they would positively drop off, he was clear across the channel, and the confused search on the shore was just an inconvenient buzz in the background.
Chapter Eleven
The commotion caused by Lieutenant Colonel Jakes Gibb’s sudden appearance in Montreal took several hours to die down. The ball was disrupted and the entire city put on alert; the wharves were sealed off and patrols were sent in all directions around the island without waiting for the morning to dawn.
In the meantime, Marie escaped quietly to her friend’s apartment. Her fellow French Canadians held her in high enough esteem that the British could not move against her without raising the ire of the populace; as long as she protested ignorance and kept to herself for a month or two, she knew she would escape with no more serious damage than the loss of her beau, Captain Clark. She was angry with Jake for having exposed her, yet at the same time worried greatly about his fate.
General Burgoyne, in his offhanded and pompous way, dismissed the rebel as inconsequential. “A mere spy will not have any effect on my plans,” said Gentleman Johnny, whose reputation as an overconfident horse’s body part had proven years before to everyone’s satisfaction except Lord North’s, who as head of His Majesty’s government had the only opinion that counted. “I have half a mind to write a letter to Washington himself, detailing my plans,” Burgoyne told Carleton when the first patrols reported that they could not find Jake. “Let these backwoodsmen try and stop me; I intend on dining in Schuyler’s mansion in Albany before Christmas.”
Some portion of the general’s bluster was undoubtedly for show, however, as he gave orders for the invasion force to accelerate its preparations. He spent the rest of the night dictating commands for his troops, determined to launch the first phase of his attack with the week. If he had never counted on strategic surprise in the first place, still he pushed his men to seize the tactical initiative, before the American army could fully mobilize against him.
Governor Carleton did not even pretend to take Jake Gibbs lightly. In fact, the governor could be forgiven if he interpreted Gibb’s reappearance in Canada as little less than a personal affront. The anger he felt could not be placed adequately into words. Nor was it satisfied by the prolonged pounding he treated his desktop to.
And so the meeting that took place in the governor’s chambers around three a.m. should come as no surprise. Carleton sat at his desk, grim; the lateness of the hour wore deeply on his face, fatigue having ingrained lines on his cheeks and brows. Ordinarily a calm and even mild man, Carleton was quite beside himself with rage. His lone visitor stood a few feet away, waiting for his orders as the governor did his best to bring his emotions back under control so he could speak. Finally, he found his voice.
“ I have sent nearly a hundred men, and Burgoyne, despite his bluster, has his own troops on alert. But he is a wily man, this Gibbs. Half the army could look for him, and he would find a way to sneak through their ranks.”
The man across the room from the governor nodded. Carleton frowned, then continued, his tone still strained.
He stole my wig, you know. He had the audacity to take my wig and escape after he’d given his word as a British gentleman not to leave house arrest. But of course, he no longer considers himself a British gentleman. My favorite wig — I’d bought it from Gladders in London.
Though he knew well where Gladders was and even felt some sympathy for the governor — the affront to his honor by a man he’d treated as his son made the governor look foolish — Carleton’s visitor did not speak. He merely shifted his legs slightly as his large blue eyes calmly searched his commander. These eyes were twice the size normally apportioned for such a face, as set deep into the skull, so that he had the appearance of a wild owl,
