Jim DeFelice - The iroh chain

He realized, however, there was a chance this small detour could delay his moving on to Albany and General Schuyler, who was awaiting word on Howe's intentions. Not to mention the fact that there is always a possibility in secret operations for misfortune, and even if Jake were to consider this night's mission but the light amusement of a few sleepless hours, precautions must be taken.

And so he pressed upon van Clynne the importance of his continuing on to Albany in the morning, with or without him.

"On what grounds am I being abandoned? Have I not done good service?" demanded the Dutchman, standing in the middle of the upstairs bedroom where Jake and he had been led. "Who helped you escape New York City?"

"As I recall, it was the Sons of Liberty. You spent the passage sleeping."

"I had been knocked unconscious, sir, having taken a blow in the line of duty. My head, as it were, was put to an important use by the Cause, diverting a villain's attention. Undoubtedly my intervention saved you, and this is the thanks I get — to be cast aside like an unwanted scrap."

Van Clynne had taken off his breeches and hose, and stood before Jake in his shirt and a pair of brilliant red drawers. These last were a rather remarkable item, as they included not merely a portion to cover the legs, but extended to the chest as well; a hibernating bear was not so warmly covered. But we will leave the fashion discussion to others more versed in the science.

"I'm not abandoning you, Claus. Someone has to go on and deliver the message to Schuyler that we have accomplished our mission."

"While you stay here and take all the glory. Surely, sir, I deserve better treatment. My competence is beyond question."

"Who questioned it?" Jake turned to the small stand where he had set the candle, and blew it out. It was not quite midnight, and he intended a brief nap for refreshment. "When you leave in the morning, take the Post Road north. Don't delay. I should catch up with you by Fishkill, or perhaps Rhinebeck."

"We're an inseparable team," protested van Clynne. "I thought you intended on seeing your good friend General Putnam on the way."

"I'll see the general soon enough," said Jake, lying back on the bed. Except for his boots and outer coat, he was fully dressed, and had his loaded pistol in his right hand — he hated to be surprised while sleeping.

"I was hoping you would introduce us."

"So you can arrange a sale of supplies?"

"And what would be wrong with that?" asked the Dutchman indignantly. "The Cause is suffering — the condition of the soldiers in this neighborhood is shameful. Surely we must all do our part. Those of us blessed with special gifts for the acquisition of needed supplies would be doing a tremendous disservice to — " "Quiet now, I want to catch a few winks of sleep. And try not to snore tonight, will you?" "I don't snore, sir," blustered van Clynne, removing his shirt. "I am a Dutchman and a fervent patriot." "Who never let profit come between him and his country." "Just so, sir, just so, though you meant the words in jest. Enterprise is critical to the survival of our freedom."

"I'll catch you on the Post Road," said Jake, "and if I miss you I'll just ask after the best beer in the country."

"You will easily be led astray. And then our arrangement will be forgotten," said van Clynne.

For perhaps the only time since they had met — many days' worth of severe difficulties and harrowing dangers, to be sure — Jake detected true fear in the Dutchman's voice. Besides his patriotism, van Clynne's strenuous efforts on behalf of the American Cause were motivated by the hope that they might win him the return of his family estate, which had been stolen years before by an English usurper. "Don't worry about your property, Claus. I'll make a full report to General Washington on your behalf." "The matter is urgent," said van Clynne. "Especially as I intend on marrying." "Congratulations," said Jake, closing his eyes firmly. "Now get into bed and be quiet."

"There is no need, sir, to play the enthusiastic reveler," said van Clynne. "I know you are only trying to find my good side. Besides, we have made no formal announcement of our intentions. Your congratulations are premature."

"You haven't told Jane yet, in other words."

"Marriage is a delicate thing to a Dutchman. It proceeds by stages. In any event, it is not the matter presently under discussion. Breaking our partnership at this point would be ill-advised; my services in routing these Tory criminals would be quite invaluable."

"True," said Jake, changing his tactics if not his posture. He sorely wanted some sleep. "But who would believe a Dutchman, let alone a squire such as yourself, to be a Tory?"

Van Clynne could find no argument there, nor would Jake let him, as he continued.

"My success depends entirely on them thinking I am a traitor. Now that is a game I have often played, but yourself-who would believe it?"

"I convinced Sir William Howe. And your General Bacon."

Jake made a dismissive spitting noise at the mention of the first general's name, but at the second his reaction was quite different. They had indeed fooled him, but by the thinnest hair on an aging cat's paw.

"Regardless, I am the officer in charge here. As I have said before-"

"An expedition has but one commander. I would like to review the election where you were selected," grumbled the Dutchman, picking up the bedcovers in tacit surrender. "The ballot was definitely loaded. This is bad precedent for running a country, believe me, sir. There is need for more Dutchmen among your congress; then we would see what a revolution ought to be."

Despite his continued complaints or perhaps because of them, van Clynne soon fell fast asleep. Within a half hour his snores could have been confused with the sound of a grist mill taking on rough wheat.

Jake gathered his rest fitfully. A quirk of nature allowed him to go for several days on barely a few winks, and he rose well before the appointed hour, cleaning and inspecting his single officer's pistol and his four-barreled Segallas pocket pistol to make sure both were at the ready. The latter weapon was a rarity in America, with four barrels placed in pairs before two separate locks; once charged, the top set could be fired and then the barrel works flipped so the second pair could be used. It was an ingenious arrangement, and if its small bullets were useful only for close work, the miniature pistol was nonetheless a prized possession.

Besides the guns, Jake carried a long, elk-handled knife that had been given to him by a special friend, a French half-breed trapper who had helped him escape from Canada a week before. His greatest weapons, however, were his resourcefulness and gilded tongue, both of which he expected to put to the test before the sun broke over the hills.

When the large clock in the great room downstairs struck 2 a.m., Jake put his jacket over his waistcoat and snuck from his room, creeping down the stairs. The rest of the house was slumbering peacefully; the only noise came from the echoes of the Dutchman's loud snores against the rafters.

The rendezvous was quickly met; Jake was but three steps from the door when he heard a hissing from the side of the house. Busch stepped forward, and together they gathered their horses and rode off up the road.

They had gone but a short way, completely in silence, when Jake heard the low nicker of a horse in the woods nearby. He was just turning to Busch when two mounted men appeared from the shadows, guns drawn, and demanded to know their allegiance. "Why?" demanded Busch. "Because we asked, simpleton. You — what side are you on?" "What's it to you?" answered Jake, his voice harsher than Busch's.

The patriot spy assumed that the ambush had been staged to test his loyalty, and so determined to play his role more freely than he might have otherwise. When one of the men — who fairly reeked of rum but was otherwise difficult to discern in the darkness — held out a pistol in his face and demanded again which side he was on, Jake drew himself straight in the saddle and declared for King George.