patriots had good firing positions, in command of the highway and the well-tended field before it, a concerted charge by the British would easily overwhelm them.
'Ames, you go back to the house and get them the hell out of there,' said Daltoons. 'We'll hold out as best we can.'
Ames, realizing this might be the last time he saw his commander, nodded gravely, but hesitated a moment before putting down his rifle.
'Go, man,' ordered Daltoons, and the young man was off, running down the hill.
It could well be that the moment of regret at leaving his friends cost him his life. For as he neared the house, a British sniper who had managed to infiltrate the woods spotted him, and with a single bullet sent his poor soul scurrying to Saint Peter's well-trod gate.
Jake rose and surveyed the battered room, littered with bodies. Once again he had failed, his finely crafted trick as useless as a child's game. But just as he was about to curse himself and all his damnable cleverness, he realized Egans was still alive. He bent over him and saw the wound was, fatal; the red man born white would die in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.
'You must not try to speak,' Jake said gently. He pulled the front of Egans's coat together, covering the bullet hole. 'The ball has taken you through the lungs. You are a brave man and true to your word; I am sorry that I did not trust you before now.'
'I had not earned it,' said Egans, lifting his head. 'I do not fear death. The sky has already closed around me. Howe is on his way to Philadelphia.' He began to cough blood. 'He told his brother.'
'Philadelphia,' Jake repeated.
'Yes,' said Egans. 'He said so freely. Father!'
The last word was uttered in the nature of a hoarse shout, emerging from his lips at the very moment his soul passed on. Jake followed the corpse's gaze across the room — right to Lady Patricia, who stood at the doorway with a rifle in her hands.
Chapter Forty-six
Claus van Clynne’s journey across the Hudson had been delayed by the contingencies of negotiation and logic, to wit: the squire could not understand why the ferryman deemed it necessary to increase the standard fee an extra two shillings, due to the fact the British were now in control of the Manhattan coast.
'If you do not understand that, then I shall charge you three extra shillings, to cover the cost of my lesson,' retorted the ferryman.
The negotiations proceeded at length until Alison dug into her own purse and tossed the man his extra two shillings. Van Clynne did not like this, but he nonetheless saw no reason not to get into the vessel while he complained.
While the Dutchman had spent considerable time on the water of late, his characteristic fear of the waves had not abated. Thus his eyes were closed firmly, and covered with his hands besides, when the vessel touched the rocks a hundred yards or so north of the point where Jake and the others had come in.
'They're shooting!' said Alison as the boat scraped onto the shore. 'Look! Redcoats are coming over the hill. We must warn Jake!'
She was out and running before van Clynne could even open his eyes. The Dutchman's admonition that she halt might just as well have been uttered at the sky. Cursing, he turned to the ferryman and told him he must wait for his return.
'Why would I do that?'
'Because I told you to,' said van Clynne, reaching beneath his shirt for a purse. 'And because I will give you a fresh ten-pound note if you are here when I get back.'
'For that amount of money, I would wait for Satan himself.'
'Satan would not pay you nearly as well,' grunted van Clynne as he got out of the boat. He rushed up the shore to the two guards who were posted near the Sons of Liberty's boats.
'Come with me quickly,' he ordered.
'The hell we will,' said one of the men. 'Throw up your hands you British dog, or I'll kill you where you stand.'
'I'm van Clynne, you idiot. Don't you hear the gunfire? Why did you let the girl go on without a weapon?'
'Jesus, Jack, it's the fat Dutchman who is always complaining. Someone's snatched his beard away.'
Under ordinary circumstances, van Clynne would have demanded to know by whose definition he was being declared fat. But there was no time to waste; he pushed down the man's gun and bade him follow up to the house.
'Our orders were to stay and guard the boats.'
'Were your orders to let the rest of the party die in the meantime? Come on then, and follow me. Honestly, there was a time when enlisted men showed initiative. I hope your muskets are loaded with double shot, at least.'
Spent gunpowder and smoke filled the room with a hazy gray air. Jake and Lady Patricia stood alone above a sea of blood and dead bodies. Her dressing gown was still unclasped; were it not for the rifle, she might appear an angel or one of the Fates, come to account for the dead.
Jake held his arms out calmly. 'Lady Patricia, I had hoped you would not come to harm.'
'Those are empty words,' said the woman. 'You have killed my entire family.'
'I did not kill your son. Your brother-in-law and husband chose their own paths.'
'It is the same. You rebels have no care for honor or the rule of law. I did not understand my brother until now.'
'But we do. That is why we are fighting, as anyone who stays in this country more than a few weeks will learn. I do not mean to offer false hope, but if your son was not accounted for, it may be because he escaped alive. Perhaps he has deserted.'
'I hardly think the son of a peer would run away from battle.'
'He wouldn't be the first. He was a young man, and Justice is a strong mistress.'
Tears were beginning to well in her eyes, but Lady Patricia was resolute. She lifted up the gun and with her thumb, reached to pull back the trigger.
'Jake!'
He dove to the side. Lady Bauer was pushed to the floor by a body leaping across the threshold onto her back.
Jake rolled to his feet and plucked the still-loaded rifle from the floor. He had to grab Alison as she aimed a blow at the noblewoman's head.
'She was going to kill you,' cried the girl.
'It's all right, Alison.' He gave her the rifle, then reached down and gently touched the poor woman's heaving body.
'Kill me, kill me,' she sobbed. 'I want to die.'
Outside, the gunfire was getting closer — and thicker.
'I was not lying about your son,' said Jake, still crouched over her. 'And I promise to ask General Washington about him.'
She made no acknowledgment that she had heard him. Jake stood over the prostrate, grief-ridden body. He knew many patriot women who had been made widows from this war; he felt no less for her than them.
Alison, standing at his side, saw the gentle way he knelt back and patted the Tory woman's shoulder. She remembered what Mrs. Hulter had told her of love — and in that instant despaired. The girl threw down the gun on the couch and walked out of the house in a cloud.
