Chapter Five
True to his word, Alexander was at the dock before the sun was in the sky. He was sitting, his feet dangling over the edge of the dock, when Mr. Hancock approached him.
"Mr. Hamilton," He said, that patronizing smirk of his still playing on his lips. "I see that you have managed to find us. Have you any luggage that needs to be brought aboard?"
"No, sir." Alexander answered. "I'm all that there is."
"Good answer," Mr. Hancock's smile turned just the slightest bit genuine. That was all Alexander needed to smile back broadly. "Well, then. Come aboard, Mr. Hamilton. Welcome to the Liberty."
"The Liberty, sir?" Alexander asked, following Mr. Hancock up the plank and onto a large vessel teeming with busy crewmen. "Don't you think that such a name is a little…conspicuous? If you're traveling European routes to get to French ports, wouldn't you want a name that did not seem obvious to British ships?"
Mr. Hancock laughed. The sound drew the attention of a number of crewmen. He didn't seem to notice. Alexander pretended not to notice, either. He was beginning to realize that Mr. John Hancock was exactly the type of man that he wanted to be. He was wealthy, he was in good social standing among the crème de la crème, and he was a patriot. Without thinking about it, Alexander began to emulate his mannerisms; his patterns of speech, his careless attitude towards his crewmen…everything.
"Mr. Hamilton," Unlike Washington, Mr. Hancock did not hurt Alexander's pride by treating him like a child and referring to him as 'son,' or 'my boy.' He referred to him as 'Mr. Hamilton,' an equal. "You will find on this journey that my priority is not hiding from the British. Indeed, I have signed a Declaration of War in which my name is larger than every other signature. Let the King know my name. All the more glorious for me."
This man was Alexander's god.
"Have you encountered redcoats on the sea before?" Alexander followed Mr. Hancock as he strode the length of the vessel, surveying each crewman's work.
Mr. Hancock glanced at Alexander, looking amused. "Often twice before docking in France."
"And what about pirates?" Alexander had always been very curious about the life of a privateer.
"Oh, we will encounter plenty of pirates," Mr. Hancock assured him. "And as a soldier, I fully expect you to participate in defending this vessel. Do you understand me, sir?"
"I do." Alexander's eyes shone with excitement.
"Very good," Mr. Hancock approved. "All right men. Let's set sail!"
The vessel lurched from under Alexander's feet. Crewmen wandered to and fro, adjusting the ropes, the sails, and several other components of the ship that Alexander did not even pretend to understand. Mr. Hancock remained calm through it all, looking around him with a stern expression. Alexander did his best to imitate the expression, but found very quickly that it grew tiresome to be in charge of this vessel.
For an hour, all he and Mr. Hancock did was look around at the crewmen working.
Knowing that his time was far more valuable than this, Alexander quickly found an excuse to escape to the cabin below deck. "Sir, I think that I will begin working on my negotiation with Britain, if you will excuse my absence."
"Of course, Mr. Hamilton," Mr. Hancock did not seem perturbed in the least.
Alexander nodded to Mr. Hancock before venturing below. He pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket. It was already soaked through, smelling strongly of saltwater. Alexander swore under his breath before removing a pencil from his pocket and scraping it against a blank page of the notebook, hoping that the mark would show.
It did, just barely.
But that was enough. Alexander sat down on a barrel full of salted pork and wrote a letter to John.
My dearest,
John,
I am currently aboard a vessel that is sailing for France. I have never been to Europe before. I am excited to use my French for something other than speaking to Lafayette.
I do not expect to be in France for very long. My intended destination is London. Yes, London, where you are. My intended destination is always where you are.
The General told me that you exchanged yourself for your father and that you are now residing in the Tower of London. I cannot imagine what suffering you are enduring within the confines of the Tower. I hope that you will remain strong and resilient. I hope that you do not tell the redcoats anything. I will love you all the same if you do, but I would like it if your country would adore you as well. The General might have to prosecute you for treason if you share any secrets; we saw the hanging of that traitor, Mulaney, last year. I could not bear to see such a hanging on your behalf.
I do not know how I will get you out of the Tower upon my arrival to London, but never fear, my dear friend, for I have a long journey ahead and what appears to be a great deal of time to consider this conundrum. I will not rest until you are liberated. After all, is the purpose of this great war not liberation? What kind of soldier would I be, if I could not free the oppressed?
The ship is rocking terribly now, and I am very afraid that the barrel that I am perched on will collapse under my weight. I will not admit to you the weight that I have gained since beginning this journey. Instead, I shall go and try to be of use to the ship's captain, Mr. John Hancock. I will tell you more about Mr. Hancock as my journey continues. He appears to be a great man.
Ever yours,
A. Hamilton
John spent the next eternity or so in his cell. That's what it felt like, anyway.
"Could I get some paper or something to draw on? It's getting kind of boring in here," he asked his guards.
"No."
"Why not? Scared I'll try to break out?"
"No."
John shrank back into the cell and sat on the cold floor. He sighed.
Meanwhile, Eddy was asked to go to Officer McCullough's office. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but it couldn't have been good.
"You asked for me, sir?"
"Yes, Edward, it has come to my attention that you and the prisoner have been quite...friendly to one another."
"We've just conversed a few times. Nothing more,"
"Your brother told me otherwise. He said you untied him even after he has shown rather dangerous behavior towards your fellow soldiers."
"He wasn't doing anything wrong at the time, sir. He was just talking."
"That's not what Reginald told me. As your commanding officer, I'm asking you to be rougher with him. Don't let him push you around. He's our prisoner, for George's sake! Grow a backbone, or I'll have you re-sanctioned."
Eddy nodded. "Yes, sir." He saluted, then left.
He decided to go past John's cell on his way back to his quarters.
John heard footsteps coming toward the cell. He stood up and walked to the door. "Eddy. What a surprise."
Eddy stopped in front of the cell door and made eye contact with John. He took a deep breath and set his mouth in a frown. "Hello, Laurens."
"Hey. Listen, you seem like a sensible guy. Do you think you could sneak me some paper and a pen in here? It's boring just sitting around, and there's some things I want to draw before they escape my brain. Please?" He sounded like he'd put his sarcasm down for once. This was something he actually cared about.
"I don't know… I was told I need to be tougher around you," Eddy replied with a shrug.
"No one needs to know you gave it to me."
Eddy looked down. "I suppose I could try and find some…"
"Thank you."
"Sure." Eddy left the cell. He went back to his quarters and searched around. He found an empty notebook and a few pens in different colors. He grabbed them all and hid them in the folds of his uniform.
He returned to the cell, opened it with permission from the two standing there, and handed them to him. "Here."
John did something surprising, in Eddy's opinion: he hugged him. "Thank you, Eddy. You saved me from dying of boredom." He pulled out and smiled.
Eddy half-smiled back. "You're welcome." He exited the cell, locking it behind him.
John sat on the floor where it was somewhat smooth, and some light was creeping in. He began to sketch.