After months of seasickness and boredom, the sight of America and land seemed to glow like Heaven's pearly gates. The journey over hadn't been without plenty of difficulties, so the young marquis was more than happy when the crew of the ship started to prepare to moor at the shore. He dared to walk over to the rail to watch as the land came ever closer and closer, the action having sent him heaving into the ocean plenty of times before. He held his hat and wig securely to his head as the wind whipped around them as the ship docked and moored. He walked off the ship and onto the dock with ease, looking around at the unfamiliar new land, looking around at the people all around him, some of them in red coats and some otherwise, some just walking and some trying to sell wares of some kind or another.
"Mister? Would you care to buy a peach?" a small voice asked him, making him blink out of his trance and look down at the little girl with a basket full of peaches.
"They're just a penny each, sir." The little girl added looking up at the man until he moved to crouch down and get at eye level with her.
"'A penny each', you say? That's not fair to the farmer." Gilbert replied to her, having to stretch his less-than-expansive English vocabulary to speak to her. "Here, I take one and pay you fairly. How does that sound?"
The little girl blinked as the man with the thick accent handed her a small bag of coins that jingled with much more money than she'd asked for. She nodded and traded the peach for the small bag of coins. "Thank you very much, mister!" She said happily.
Gilbert smiled gently to her and took the fruit, standing up to continue on his way.
"Hey, mister? You have white hair like a British man, but you don't sound like one and you're not wearing a red coat. Where'd that ship of yours come from?" The little girl spoke up again, looking up at the young man.
"Why, I am French. Don't tell the Englishmen, but I came to help the American cause." Gilbert replied to her easily with a small smile. "Now, if the mademoiselle will excuse me, I must find somewhere to sleep tonight."
The little girl nodded and waved to the Frenchman as he headed off on his way. Gilbert did his best to evade most of the redcoats, just smiling and nodding to them and praying that they would assume he was one of them just by his appearance. He soon made his way into the city, finding an inn not too far from a tavern, something that made him momentarily question his current priorities. On one hand, he needed to get a room for an indefinite amount of time until he was admitted into the army. However, after months at sea, he had a strong urge to walk into the tavern and get himself a glass of wine. After a bit of debate, he decided his first priority ought to be finding lodging. Then, he'd get himself a nice glass of wine and relax before continuing on his mission the next day.
So, the marquis walked into the inn and ignored the odd looks he was given, walking over to the innkeeper's desk.
"Sir, we don't want any trouble." The innkeeper told him with a small frown.
"Neither do I. I just want a room, please." The young man replied honestly, his accent seeming to make the other relax.
"Right. Any idea how long you'll be staying with us?" the innkeeper asked.
"Ah, no. It all depends on how things go, you see." The marquis replied, trying to explain it to him.
"So, it's indefinite?"
"Yes."
"We do have a couple rooms, then. They're not exactly that big, but there's a washroom you can use across the hall."
"Magnifique. I'll take it."
The innkeeper nodded and gave the young Frenchman the key to the room.
"Breakfast is served at eight."
"Thank you." Gilbert replied, nodding to the innkeeper and read the number on the key before walking down the hall and up the stairs to his little room. He set his trunk down on the floor easily, taking his hat off as he settled in.
The room had a small writing desk and a bed with a nightstand and a few lamps and candles. It wasn't at all what he was used to, but it would be enough. Besides, if he was able to join the military, he'd be living in a tent, likely with one or two other people.
He pulled the quill, inkwell, wax seal, and paper from his trunk and set them on his desk, leaving everything else inside his trunk. He set his hat down on the bed as he sat down at the desk to start writing a letter to his wife.
In the letter, he explained that he'd made it to the United States safely, knowing that Adrienne was more than used to him staunchly referring to the colonies as the United States, more than confident that they would be liberated one day soon and that he would be of some help in some way or another. He promised to write everyday, or at least as often as he could, so he could keep her informed while he was across the sea.
'I pray that little Henriette learns to sleep well, so that you might be able to as well. No amount of beauty sleep could ever make you more radiant, but one still needs enough sleep to keep their health at bay.
'I will write again tomorrow, I promise. As for now, I have gone over a month without a good glass of wine and I find myself with a thirst. Lovingly yours, Gilly,' he finished; deciding to sign with the loving nickname his wife had given him and had been using since they were simply courting.
He fished out a stamp and envelope, addressing the envelope and sticking the stamp onto it easily while the ink of the letter dried. He blew on the ink on the envelope and the letter to make sure they were both nice and dry before he folded it nicely and stuck it into the envelope. He then found a box of matches in the nightstand and struck one to light the candle. Holding the candle over the fold of the envelope, he let the hot wax drip over it to seal it shut. He then, pressed the seal of his family's crest into the wax to form the seal.
Once it was all said and done, he blew out the candle, donned his hat and took the letter down to be mailed off before he headed out with the key to his room in his pocket with his money. With that, he walked down the street to the nearby tavern, mentally going over how to ask for a glass of wine in English.
He walked into the rather busy bar filled with various men laughing and talking as they sipped their drinks happily, all of them seemingly drinking with their friends and comrades. The marquis found an empty seat next to a pair of laughing men, walking over to them.
One of the men, the smaller with the ponytail holding back his dark hair and a flush across his freckled cheeks, turned around to look over at the younger newcomer when his larger friend stopped talking and just looked at him silently.
"Is anyone sitting here?" Gilbert asked a bit warily as he pointed to the available seat, not sure if the pair of men would be friendly or not.
"Depends who's asking. If you're one of those Brit Redcoats, you'll have to fight me for it." The freckled man replied rather seriously.
"No, sir, I am French." He said with a shake of his head.
"Yeah? What's your name?" Freckles asked with a small cock of his head.
"Je m'appelle Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, marquis de Lafayette." He replied easily, only realizing that it hadn't been in English after the words had come out of his mouth.
Freckles blinked at the introduction. "Go ahead and take a seat. Hey, let's get a glass of wine for Frenchy." He said, calling to the bartender as the other sat down with the pair and took off his hat, setting it aside.
"So, your name is a bit of a mouthful. You got a nickname?" The larger man spoke up.
Gilbert blinked at that, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar word. "'Nickname'? I do not understand…"
"What can we call you that won't take five minutes, buddy?" Freckles translated, as the glass of wine was set in front of the newcomer.
"My wife calls me Gilly, but…"
Freckles snorted and laughed a bit at that and shook his head, moving to pat the newcomer's back. "You said were the marquis de Lafayette, right? We'll just call you that, Lafayette for short."
"Alright. What are your names, then?"
"I'm John Laurens." Freckles said with a smile to him.
"I'm Hercules Mulligan." The larger man introduced easily.
Lafayette nodded and smiled to the pair as he sipped his wine.
"So, Lafayette. What brings you from fancy France to this tavern?" John asked curiously.
"Well, I hear talk of the rebellion and the Declaration sent to the King. I really liked what les Insurgents were doing, so I came to help. I am willing to fight for freedom for America." He explained cautiously, doing his best to find the words he needed to explain himself with a bit difficulty.
"You came all the way from France to fight here? Damn…" John hummed in disbelief.
"Well, you picked the right idiots to drink with, because I know a guy who can help you. His buttons are always falling off his clothes and he always comes into the shop. The name you need is Major Benjamin Huger. You gotta find him tomorrow, though, because he's going home to South Carolina soon." Hercules said, calling over the bartender to get some ink, a quill, and a bit of paper. He wrote down the name and an address before passing it over to Lafayette.
Lafayette looked down at the paper and nodded easily. "Thank you very much."
"Hey, anything to help another soldier. Laurens and I are going to enlist, too in a few days. Maybe we'll see each other again in uniform." Hercules said with a happy grin.
"Hey, I'll drink to that." John said with a small smile to the two men, patting the table before ordering a round of beers for the three of them.
"Here's to freedom." He announced happily, holding his fresh glass in the air. "Cheers, gentlemen."
"Cheers!" Lafayette and Hercules both replied, raising their own glasses to clink them together before tilting their heads back and taking a long drink.
