Chapter Seven
My dearest John,
I cannot wait until we are reunited, for I have so much to share with you! While aboard Mr. Hancock's Liberty, we exchanged fire with the British. They came aboard with the intention of seizing our ship, but in the end, it was us that seized their ship! Mr. Hancock says that the ship is worth approximately one million pounds. Can you imagine owning anything worth even half a million pounds?
As a consequence of our taking the British ship, Mr. Hancock was forced to part with his first-mate, who will sail the British ship back to Boston where it will be safely out of British reach. In his first-mate's absence, Mr. Hancock has declared that I am to be first-mate. Imagine! When we were at camp, could you have ever imagined me serving as a Captain's first-mate?
Based off of the maps that I have been reading for Mr. Hancock, I will arrive in France within the week. Mr. Hancock is bringing me to Paris with him - he wishes to introduce me to some connections who may help smuggle me into England.
I hope to see you soon, dear friend. Every moment I spend separated from you, I am in agony.
Yours,
A. Hamilton
"Mr. Hamilton!" Alexander was called upon deck one morning as he studied the map that he had been staring at every free second he had since becoming first-mate.
"Yes, sir!" Alexander rushed up from the cabins, stumbling over the rotting stairs as he climbed up on deck. He squinted at the unfamiliarity of the sun before turning to look at Mr. Hancock.
"Take a look over the bow and tell me what you see." Mr. Hancock looked at him the way that Washington sometimes looked at him when the older man was feeling proud of something that Alexander had done.
Alexander did as he was told, walking the length of the ship to peer over the edge. When he did, he was surprised to see land.
"Is that France?" He asked, racing back to where Mr. Hancock was standing.
"Yes, it is," Mr. Hancock grinned. "Put on your finest clothes, young man, for we have a dinner meeting with the Duke of Anjou this evening, where we will be discussing your English matter very carefully."
"My finest clothes," Alexander's face reddened. "Sir, as I'm sure you can appreciate, I did not embark upon this journey with the intention of dining with nobility…"
Mr. Hancock seemed to understand immediately. "We will visit my tailor in Paris beforehand. It is unlikely that he will be able to make you something new, but he will undoubtedly have something that is approximately your size awaiting another purchaser. He can be persuaded to part with it for an evening."
"Thank you," Alexander could hardly express his gratitude adequately.
Mr. Hancock just smiled and nodded, refocusing his attention on the land in the distance.
When the ship docked, Alexander helped the rest of the crew secure the vessel to the designated post before climbing onto the dock with noticeably less grace than Mr. Hancock.
"Hasten your step, Mr. Hamilton!" Mr. Hancock called over his shoulder as Alexander's pace slowed. He had been looking around, observing the strange styles of the French citizens surrounding them. They looked so different than Lafayette. They spoke in a different dialect than Lafayette, too. "We have a long drive to Paris ahead of us, and not much time to accomplish such a distance."
"Yes, sir!" Alexander quickened his pace, trying his best to ignore the sea of powder-white faces surrounding him. He would look more closely once they arrived in Paris.
Mr. Hancock hailed a cab just a mile away from the port, handing over a velvet purse containing several gold pieces, judging by the clinking noise that accompanied the transaction, as the driver agreed to begin the journey straight away.
As the horses picked up the pace under the driver's relentless whip, Mr. Hancock busied himself with a book that he had removed from his bag. Sensing that he did not want to talk, Alexander removed his journal from his own bag and began to write a letter. His handwriting was sloppy, as the road was bumpy, but he managed to keep everything on the page.
My dearest John,
I am currently in a carriage headed for Paris. Mr. Hancock has informed me that I will be dining with a real, live French Duke. The Duke of Anjou, I believe. Can you believe that? Me, meeting a Duke! The General doesn't even trust me to speak to other Generals in his absence.
I am not dining with the Duke for my own pleasure, however. Mr. Hancock tells me that the Duke may have connections to someone who may be able to smuggle me into England unnoticed. That said, Mr. Hancock is having me visit with a Parisian tailor to drape me in the finest linens offered so that my lowly camp clothes do not offend the Duke. It will be nice to wear something that does not have loose stitching, I must admit. You know that I have always been meticulous about my appearance.
As Alexander smiled at his last sentence and considered the right words for the next, he heard the sound of gunfire followed by the scream of an injured horse and men and women shouting.
"What was that?" He tried to poke his head out of the window, but Mr. Hancock grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back with enough force to send Alexander tumbling onto the carriage floor.
"Thieves," Mr. Hancock explained, fumbling with his clothing in an effort to conceal coins. "Hide all of your valuables, but do not protest if they find any such possessions and try to take them. These are not honorable men. They will not think twice about shooting you."
Just as Alexander was fumbling with his journal, the door to the carriage was wrenched open. A burly man with a filthy face sneered at them before barking, "En dehors."
Mr. Hancock stood up and stepped from the carriage just as gracefully as he could manage just before the burly man hit him upside the head with a pistol.
"Sir!" Alexander cried involuntarily, scrambling out of the carriage after Mr. Hancock. Before he could reach Mr. Hancock, who was struggling to his feet, the burly man caught Alexander by the collar of his shirt. Alexander turned around, grappling with the arms that were restricting him.
The burly man raised his pistol-holding hand, preparing to strike Alexander, but was halted.
"Arretez!" A young woman commanded.
Stop. She had told the man to stop.
Alexander looked around wildly until his eyes fell on the figure of a young woman stepping forward, removing the detailed mask on her face.
She was gorgeous; but very, very French. She had sharp yellow eyes, pouty lips, and jet black hair. She walked like a jungle cat stalking its prey. Alexander looked over at Mr. Hancock nervously. Mr. Hancock didn't look back at him.
"You are English, no?" She swapped out her French as she took another predatory step towards Alexander.
"Yes," Alexander replied, trying to take a step back. The burly man blocked his path, grunting unceremoniously when Alexander backed into him.
"And so 'andsome," She continued, her pouty lips curving into a smirk.
Typically, Alexander would have been thrilled by such a compliment, but he didn't trust it coming from this woman.
"What iz your name?" She inquired, now standing less than a foot away from Alexander.
"Alexander," He answered, looking at his shoes instead of the woman. "Madame."
"Do you 'ave money, Meester Alexander?"
"No, Madame,"
"Zat is too bad," The woman didn't seem all that bothered by Alexander's lack of money, despite her words. "Monsieur Callais, I think zat Meester Alexander would suit our purposes just perfectly, don't you?"
"Oui," The burly man agreed with a smile that Alexander didn't care for.
"Good," The woman purred. "Take 'im. Leave zee rest."
"Wait!" Alexander heard Mr. Hancock protest just before he heard a loud crunching noise followed by a searing pain at the back of his head. The ground suddenly came into view, though he couldn't remember falling. The last thing that he heard as his vision blurred into nothingness was the French woman saying, "Do not be offended, Meester Hancock. You are 'andsome, too. This one will only suit my needs a leetle better."
The new guard sent to cuff him nodded without a word as he bound John's hands and pushed him out the cell.
"Got a name, Mr. Silent Treatment?"
The guard shrugged. "I'm not supposed to converse with prisoners," he mumbled quietly.
"Oh, well that makes sense. You guards tend to be total bores anyway."
The guard frowned at that.
He took John to a different room than the office he'd been in before. It was dark except for the light of a lantern on the far wall. He was forcefully sat down in what felt like a wooden chair, and his hands were uncuffed and retired around the back of it. "What is this, a kidnapping?" John asked turning his head to face the guard.
The guard shrugged again before leaving him there alone, or so he thought.
Three figures emerged out of the darkness of the room. The two on the ends were obviously soldiers, one happening to be Reggie once John could see his face, the other this small guy he didn't recognize, wearing all black under his coat instead of white. In the middle was Charles McCullough, holding a stack of papers and smiling like he would have the last word today. "Good morning, Mr. Laurens." His voice was mock polite.
"Lovely day, isn't it, Charlie?"
Charles' smirk disappeared from them on. "I am not here to discuss the weather." He nodded at the smaller guy.
The smaller guy nodded and gave John a manic look in the eyes. He punched him hard in the arm before retreating back into the shadows.
John sucked in the pain. For a small dude that guy packed some muscle. "Wow, you really thought about everything today, didn't you, Charlie?"
Charles ignored him. "Now, Laurens, you will tell me all you know about what those bloody Americans are up to, or Interrogation Officer Wyatt here might have to try a bit harder to get you to talk. Though since apparently you don't 'do' titles, Levi is fine.
Levi cracked his knuckles. It echoed.
John was a little bit scared now, but he didn't let it show. "Sure, let him try. I won't talk."
Levi walked around and kicked the back of the chair, hard, so John fell onto the floor and landed on his head. Then he wrenched the chair upright so he was staring John in the eyes, the chair only standing on two legs. "Tell him what you know, scum, or I'll break you till you can't be put back together." His voice was deep.
"Never. You can't break me." John whispered it, since his head was still in pain from hitting stone.
"We'll see." Levi smirked.
John felt dizzy as he was punched in the stomach. He would have keeled over if he wasn't forced to sit upright.
Charles was eating this up with his eyes. Reggie looked a bit pale.
"Beating me up doesn't make me want to talk any more." John's voice was now shaky.
Charles waved a hand at Levi, and he backed off. Charles walked up to John and crossed his arms. "Spill it. I can tell you know something. How could one of Washington's aides not know anything about his plans?"
"I won't betray my country to stop a little pain. I've been through worse than this." That was a lie.
"Fine, we'll try again when you feel like talking." Charles left the room, and Reggie went after him, looking back once, like he was contemplating whether to leave John alone with Levi.
John didn't get the chance to talk to him at all by himself because he blacked out.