Chapter Four
Alexander woke up with a start in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. There was a little girl, hardly much older than the decrepit coat on Alexander's back, there was a boy who looked to be about the age of twelve, and there was a woman that Alexander recognized as the woman who had thrown water at him some indefinite amount of time ago.
"You," He rasped, trying to struggle into an upright position. His limbs throbbed in protest. He winced and resisted their pleas to lie down once more. "Who are you? Why have you taken me here?"
"Fetch Isabella," The woman told the little boy sternly.
"But Mama!" The boy protested, not taking his eyes off of Alexander.
"Now!" The woman insisted shrilly. Her tone forced Alexander to wince yet again. As the boy took off running down the hall, the sound of his feet pattering against the wooden floors echoing through the abode, the woman turned to look at Alexander. Her expression became somewhat soft. "There you are, young man. We thought we'd have to bury you if you took much longer waking up. Now, then, what's your name? Are you with the General's forces? I know he's been 'round here recently."
"Hamilton, miss." Alexander rubbed his aching head. "My name is Hamilton."
"Well, Master Hamilton, where is it that you ought to be?"
"An interesting question, to be sure," The hoarse sound of Alexander's voice caused his words to lose their humor. "I am going to London. The General's orders. I am to negotiate a prisoner exchange."
"Ma'am?" The little boy returned with a woman wearing a tattered dress appeared in the doorway. Alexander looked her over critically for a moment before deciding that she was not a slave. Her skin was far lighter than his, and though she was dressed poorly, the little girl and little boy were sporting clothes that were only a few tears away from rags as well.
"Yes, Isabella, thank you," The woman regained her composure. "Master Hamilton has just risen and requires bread and water. Would you be so kind as to fetch those things while I determine where he should be?"
"Yes, ma'am." The woman, Isabella, agreed quickly. She scampered out of the room, her feet making the same pattering noise that the boy's had just moments ago.
"Thank you, miss, but I really should leave. I have to arrive in London by a very specific time, you see, and -" Alexander frowned as he looked around the house for any sign of a door from which he could leave.
"Of course," The woman, blessedly, did not try to deter Alexander from carrying out his journey. "Thomas. Fetch Mister Hancock."
"But Mama," The little boy, Thomas, protested again.
"I will not ask you again, Thomas." The woman said sternly.
With a pout, little Thomas placed a ragged cap upon his head, tattered shoes upon his feet, and slunk out of the room. In his absence, the woman turned to look at Alexander, an almost warm expression on her face.
"My youngest boy, Thomas. All the others are off fightin' the war, just like ye. Isabella is married to my eldest, Benjamin. He's not with the General's troops, like I would have liked, but he's under the command of a man named Montgomery and says that he's a proud and noble man, just as good as the General."
Alexander nodded, not particularly interested in hearing about this woman's family.
"Do you have any children, sir? Or a wife?" The woman did not seem to notice Alexander's disinterest.
"No, ma'am. I'm afraid that I don't." Alexander answered. It was a question he received fairly often. After all, he was a young man of some fortune in a very uncertain time. It seemed perfectly natural that he should begin to seek a wife. But John Laurens defied all logic. He threw a wrench in a part of Alexander's life that should have been automatic, like clockwork. He made that part of Alexander's part much more chaotic. Much more enjoyable.
"Well, don't you worry. You're still young, yet. Now, my Thomas will only be a minute. He's fetching Mr. John Hancock. He has a ship that has just come to harbor from France. He brings goods that are forbidden by the British. He might be able to take you along on his next journey. I'm afraid no one else around here dares even approach England. We're all terribly afraid of what might happen, sir."
"That's alright. I suppose I could just as easily charter a boat from France as I could anywhere else," Alexander acted as though he were not being given a huge opportunity in this woman's connection with one John Hancock.
The woman nodded. "Thomas should return with him at any moment."
"I'm glad of it," Alexander remarked. "And I appreciate the efforts your family is making on my behalf."
"Anything for the cause, Mr. Hamilton."
Alexander smiled weakly.
"Mrs. Coates? Your son has fetched me. Is something the matter?" A well-dressed man, tall and dark-haired, walked into the room. His thick eyebrows were furrowed with confusion.
"Mr. Hancock," The woman stood up and smiled at the man gravely. "I present to you, Mr. Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton has been deterred on his journey to England."
"England?" The man, Mr. Hancock, looked at Alexander with newfound suspicion.
"For the patriot cause, sir," Alexander interjected, eying the woman, apparently Mrs. Coates, reproachfully. She had made him sound as though he was a redcoat. "The General has requested that I negotiate the terms of release for a prisoner being held in London."
"You're one of Washington's boys?" Mr. Hancock's suspicious expression did not change.
"Yes, sir. I've been his aide for a few years." Alexander struggled to his feet, despite Mrs. Coates' disapproving looks. He stuck his hand out for Mr. Hancock to shake. Mr. Hancock shook it, still suspicious.
"You can vouch for this young man?" Mr. Hancock looked at Mrs. Coates again. "I cannot have a spy disrupting my trade routes. You know firsthand the demand that I face every month. If the redcoats begin to frequent the route, such voyages will no longer be sustainable."
"Sir," Alexander didn't trust Mrs. Coates to speak on his behalf. "If I may, I am not asking to see the route that you travel. I have no experience with sailing. In fact, I can almost guarantee that I will stay below deck for the duration of the journey. My interests lie otherwise, you see. I will mostly be reading and writing. You will hardly notice my presence."
Mr. Hancock did not seem appeased. "Do you have money for a fare? An extra man onboard means an extra mouth to feed. An extra body to harbor. One less man on my crew."
"I'm sorry, sir," Alexander's heart sank. "I have no money. I refused to accept payment for my services."
"Now, Mr. Hancock, I know that you have room a'plenty in your ship. Don't extort this young man. He's working for his country." Mrs. Coates protested.
"We're all working for our country, Mrs. Coates," Mr. Hancock said with a patronizing smile. "That doesn't mean that I have to go bankrupt in the process."
"Sir," Alexander respected Mr. Hancock much less for worrying over the cost of a single passenger. "I'm sure that I can write to Mr. John Hancock at the War Board for compensation, if you consider it necessary to receive payment."
"For shame," Mrs. Coates added. "This is your civic duty."
"Are you questioning my patriotism, madam?"
"I am, sir."
"Well, then," Mr. Handcock did not seem very happy with the prospect of taking Alexander to France. "I suppose I haven't a choice, have I? Mr. Hamilton, we depart at dawn tomorrow. If you are late, you will be left. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Alexander grinned. "I will be there at dawn."
Another pair of guards came an hour later to take John to the general. Neither said a word.
"Wow, aren't you a pair of downers. Do you ever move your lips?" John asked as he was escorted out and down the stairs.
The guards left him in a small room that consisted of a table and two chairs facing each other. John sat himself in one of them and waited. And waited.
The general walked in flanked by two redcoats. He slammed a stack of papers on the table in front of John before taking his seat. His face was stuck in a frown.
"Hello, Laurens."
"Hello,whoever you are because no one was kind enough to give your name."
"Call me your worst nightmare."
"Hello, my worst nightmare, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm John." He smirked.
The officer sighed in frustration. "Please address me as General McCullough."
"Yeah, that's not doing it for me. Got a first name? Last names are so...formal."
"Charles."
"I know a man named Charles. Great guy, really. 'Cept he's a total coward."
"We are not here to discuss random civilians. We are not here to discuss anything, this is an interrogation-."
"Oh, he's not a normal civilian." John cut him off, smirking.
"I don't care."
"Well, let's get on with it, then, I don't have all day to sit here. I'd much prefer to spend it on the hard stone floor of my cell, thanks for that by the way."
"I don't either, so stop stalling, you filthy rebel."
John put his hand to his chest in mock offense. "My, how original of an insult. I hear it at least once a day, and twice a day on Wednesdays."
"You've only been in England a few days. Just- damn. Guards, take him out of here, do what you will. If he won't tell us what we want to know about the American offense-"
"Woah, you wanted to know about that? I thought this was just a friendly meeting between acquaintances. My mistake, it's clear I'm not welcome. Guards, take me away. I hate to look at Charlie's ugly face any longer."
The two guards looked at each other, shrugged, then pulled John out of his chair, back towards his cell.
Charles put his head on his desk. Americans, he thought, are they all like this?