Chapter 57. The End of Days at War

It was a long time in coming. Over two years – but the Peace – a treaty – had been concluded in Paris. These years wore long on both Thomas and Elizabeth. The pastor’s duties took him to an even wider circuit of travels; these separations afflicted Cynthia deeply – ‘though not, as one might suppose, with pangs of loneliness. Oh no! – his absences rekindled in her heart all manner of doubt: Is he really with us? The British are still here, occupying our Town – is he secretly aiding them in their grip on this island? Even though it seems he is doing Washington’s secret work, gathering information from the wide-spread folk in the towns and wilderness? Is he tempted by other women? Does he have another lover, somewhere – or many? When, eventually the British leave – for surely they must – will he stay here with me, or will he leave with them? Is he still in love with that woman Cynthia?

Between her fits of doubt and pique, Elizabeth would suffer great reversals of passion, lament the loneliness – ‘though in truth her house was more bustling, with even more girls and sewing and the tending of the gardens, than ever – and, like Penelope working at her loom, would faithfully sew and knit, waiting for her man to return, and for this time to be at end.

When each round of the pastor’s circuit was ended, Thomas would rush to his beloved, and they would dance a few steps of re-acquaintance, with Elizabeth posing many, many questions, and Thomas quietly answering each of them – but demanding a kiss in recompense for each of his secret intelligences. But never, ever did he divulge the circumstances through which he came to be so deeply involved with Washington, with the Continental Army – the fact of which – or rather lack of evidence of which no doubt stoked Elizabeth’s embers of suspicion.

At the conclusion of each these tender re-unifications, when it was, alas, time for him to resume his travels, Thomas would proclaim his love on bended knee, and ask Elizabeth for her hand in marriage. To which she would always reply, in her most stern fashion: “When the British have left us, and you remain with us. Then –– I shall consider it.”

There was no more to be done for it – they were in love, but Elizabeth remained in doubt as to Thomas’ true affections – and more to the point – his loyalty, no only to her, but to her country as well.

~

It was the end of his circuit-riding. Come tomorrow there would be a new assignment from Washington – and Thomas was mightily relieved. It was nearly midnight as he wearily dismounted in the stables behind Elizabeth’s house. The kitchen door was unlatched, and he quietly stepped across the threshold. She was waiting, a piece of sewing upon her knee, beside a flickering fire. The house was cool, but Thomas felt his face burn at the sight of her, so glad was he to Home – at last!

After much kissing, and an embrace that brought both of the lovers to their knees, there followed a companionable silence.

“After all these years, the secret you have kept most secure from me, Thomas – at last I know what happened at Monmouth ––––– ” Elizabeth smoothed her apron, and re-adjusted her Liberty Cap “ You needn’t ask how I know –– ” For Elizabeth had finally ferreted the truth out from General Greene.

“––– so in honor of how you – apparently – acquitted your character, I have prepared something for you.”

ThoMas could only manage a sheepish grin, and attempted to kiss her again. But she was up and away; he could only follow.

“It’s in there – ” she grinned, “take your time.

“And – here – give me that disgraceful shrunken mass of lint you’ve been wearing for a hat,” she sniffed.

In the room lay the bright blue and buff of a Continental Army officer’s uniform, complete with a tri-cornered hat. A green cockade pinned to one of the upturned brims denoted Thomas’ commission as a Sub-Altern.

Thomas was overwhelmed – at Elizabeth having found out his secret commission, and at her having the temerity, kindness, and generosity to have done this. For him. He was out of his frayed traveling clothes in a flash, and emerged from the room moments later – a perfect Yankee Officer, if not even a Gentleman!

He bowed to his lady, and she curtsied. Holding her hand lightly in his outstretched fingers, he stepped towards her, and they danced a tiny minuet, in the moonlight, with the snap of the blazing wood in the fireplace their only orchestra. It had been a long journey – all seemed well, and right, moving in the proper direction. At last! They were both all smiles, and remained that way through the long hours of the night.

~

It was the morning of the Great Embarkation. Thomas had not previously thought himself properly attired to represent the conquering Yankee army, as it reclaimed Manhattan Island from the British, and – more important – from the grip of the Loyalists: his old cronies, or whichever of them still remained in New-York. But now, properly uniformed, it seemed a pity to not be not with the officers who would escort Washington into New-York.

Thomas was on the island of Manhattan. Washington would arrive by flatboat – chosen in remembrance of the flatboats that ferried the weary army across the Delaware, those many, many years ago, across the icy river towards Trenton, and forward into history. No one had told Thomas that he couldn’t attend the Loyalist departure –

And so, as there were many chores to attend in anticipation of the arrival of the Commander-in-Chief, Thomas decided that as an Officer, as well as the Army’s Chaplain, that he should attend, to see that the Loyalists were treated well as they were shepherded off the island and onto the ships that would take them to their new homes in far-away, cold, wind-swept Halifax ––– to Nova Scotia.

As well as they deserve, they shall be treated mused Sub-Altern Smith, adjusting his hat, and setting forth into Broad-Way. In the distance, a band was playing a jig.

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