A Drummer in Red

By Gordon Saunders

Lewis Elliot and his mother, Stella, are forced to flee their Baltimore home for the modest farm of their cousins in Gloucester County, Virginia. They arrive just as the feared Lord Cornwallis and the hated Colonel Banastre Tarleton take up residence in Gloucester Point and across the York River in Yorktown. The war heats up as Cornwallis fortif

• Language: English
• Publisher: mediaropa
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956228090

Gordon Saunders

Over a period of twenty-five years, Dr. Saunders lived in four countries in Europe--working in more than three dozen countries both before and after the end of communist rule--with the purpose of describing and purveying grace. Overcoming cultural differences and ways of communicating gave him insight both into what divides people and into what unites them. It also helped him understand elements in various cultures, baggage some call it, that keep people from hearing one another. Writing fantasy gave him a way to minimize the baggage and show truths to people they might otherwise be unable to see.

Book preview

1

Deserter’s Son

Lewis and his mother halted where the path finally came free of the tobacco field. Through the dust and flies that now overtook them, they surveyed the two-room log cabin where Uncle James lived. Aunt Virginia stood by the door watching them. She was holding a musket with both hands, her arms loose over her apron. Even from a distance Lewis and his mother couldn't help but see the grim line her lips made. A girl poked her head around the door of the small barn across the yard from the house. Six years had changed her considerably, but Lewis could still recognize his cousin, Tetty. For a long time the four of them stood looking at one another, not speaking.

Lewis took a sidelong glance at his mother. Even she, the former picture of impeccable dress, had gotten so hot that she'd wiped her brow with the white apron. And now it was smudged with dust muddied by sweat. Otherwise, she appeared much the same as Aunt Virginia in her brown linsey-woolsey dress with its apron. Of course, everything was brown now, because it was the only color dye one could get. Even George Washington's Continental soldiers had brown uniforms – when they had uniforms.

I suppose I have to let you in, said Aunt Virginia at last. But she didn't move, and as soon as she had finished speaking her mouth became that hard line again.

Stella Elliot cleared her throat, but couldn't seem to say anything. She didn't move either, nor did Lewis. Tetty took a step away from the barn door and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring.

Well, come on, said Aunt Virginia, turning, at length, into the cabin. She was lost in the shadows inside. Lewis and his mother still didn't move, but Tetty stormed back into the barn, slamming the door behind her. Then, without a sound, back straight as a ramrod, Stella strode forward. Lewis followed her into the house.

---

Lloyd'll be along directly, said Aunt Virginia, but James is out with the militia in Williamsburg or someplace. She was reaching over the mantle to get the pot hook as she spoke, but she turned back without getting it. Or shouldn't I be telling you this, Stella? Her eyes had narrowed and she glared at Stella unpleasantly.

Stella sat unmoved on the trestle by the table, saying nothing, but returned the gaze until Virginia became busy about the pothook once more. Squatting on a three-legged stool by the hearth, Tetty stirred the spoonbread on the warming shelf and threw a look of defiance first at Stella, and then, when she couldn't catch her eye, at Lewis, who was leaning against the frame of the door to the other room. He made a face and turned away.

Aunt Virginia set the hook on a chain hanging over the hearth, lifted her heavy, cast iron kettle from the floor, and set the kettle on the hook. She resumed the conversation, almost to herself.

James would say as it wasn't you who deserted, but his brother, if his brother really did desert which he doesn't believe for a minute. She straightened and stepped toward another pot on the other side of the hearth. "But I find it easy enough to believe. You an' your family always had Tory notions, and James' brother always did listen to you too much - just like that Benedict Arnold and his tory wife - she said, stopping long enough to turn toward Stella. And, after all, your family did flee from that fancy house of theirs to go back to England in '76, soon as the Declaration was signed."

Lewis could tell by the way the muscles in his mother's face were working that she was struggling to remain calm. She didn't answer for a moment. When she did reply, she spoke quietly.

"I didn't go back to England," she said.

Lewis turned suddenly toward Tetty and her mother, blurting out, And Pa wasn't a deserter, either!

Aunt Virginia looked at him; seeing him for the first time, he thought. Don't go in there, she snapped, nodding toward the door. Lewis jumped away from the frame as if it had scalded him.

Then Aunt Virginia looked him up and down and said softly, as though nothing had happened, I wish you were right, Lew.

She turned to place a cover on one of the kettles. In a minute, she went on with the same disgust in her voice. But it's all over the county how Lafayette, himself, dismissed your father in disgrace. She began to stir the contents of the uncovered pot, then snorted. Lucky he wasn't hung like the other deserter.

Would have been better if he had been, muttered Tetty.

Tetty! exclaimed Aunt Virginia, whirling toward her.

And it would have been better if they hadn't come here, too! Tetty continued, nodding toward Stella and Lewis.

---

Lewis bounded through the door to the yard in order not to hear what else they might say. His father's own family! And they didn't even believe in him! Oh, it was so hot. It was hot enough in there with the fire stoked up for dinner, but much hotter, almost too hot to exist out here in the sun. Did he even want to exist? It was so hard. He and his mother were hounded and driven from place to place. No one wanted them. Everyone seemed to be their enemy. He grimaced.

But...Yes! He did want to exist! He clenched his right fist by his chest. He would show them! He would show them all, including that Marquis de Lafayette, that his father was no deserter.

He took his old flop hat off and wiped the sweat from his forehead on his sleeve, wandering aimlessly. When he noticed his surroundings again, he was behind the barn. Aunt Virginia and Uncle James's barn was almost as big as the cabin; a big barn in these parts, thought Lewis. He noticed it minutely for a moment. It needed new caulking between the logs, but was square and sturdy otherwise.

---

Then Lewis gazed at Aunt Virginia's garden. It didn't look too bad, though it was, perhaps, a bit wilted. She had potatoes, turnips, squash, cucumbers, peas, beets, carrots, butter beans and pole beans, and some herbs. The sky-blue flowers of flax flashed along a narrow strip for quite a distance, too. Nearby was an asparagus patch and a muskmelon patch and a good stand of corn, up to about mid-thigh on Lewis. The corn began on a slope that went upward toward a curing barn which was larger than the other barn. The curing barn was only partly filled with tobacco, however, since it was early in the season. Beyond the curing barn, flowing down the other side of the slope and all around the house and out buildings, were the fields of tobacco; Sweet scent tobacco, Lewis noticed, with bigger, fluffier leaves than the Oranoco tobacco grown on the Eastern Shore. Sold at a better price, too.

Lewis leaned against the corner of the barn, glad of his momentary freedom from people. He made rivulets in the dust with his toes. When he'd been at Somerset Academy, back in Maryland, he'd had shoes. But he had to sell them in Baltimore to raise enough money to travel back here. In fact, he and his mother had needed to sell everything except one change of clothes to pay for the trip. His mother had sold that one change of clothes in Fredericksburg. She and Lewis were just too tired to walk any farther. So she sold those clothes to pay for their passage on the little picaroon sloop which had brought them down the Rappahannock River from Fredericksburg to Ware. And Lewis had sold his one change of clothes yesterday, near Ware, to pay for a stinking cabbage and a year-old turnip they had eaten raw without even any grog to wash them down. He shook his head. How are the mighty fallen! he thought. He watched as the dust flowed around his toes sending little wisps off into the air.

Who might you be? The rough, loud voice startled him. He turned to its source at the other side of the barn. He hadn't seen Lloyd for six years, but he had no trouble recognizing him. Oh, he himself had changed some in those six years, too, but Lloyd must have known who he was, as well. Okay, thought Lewis, I'll play his game.

Who wants to know? he replied.

Lloyd was much taller and broader than Lewis, and he now came toward him menacingly, eyes squinted up, clenched fists rising to chest height.

Lewis scowled at him in return and held his ground.

If you don't answer me in five seconds, Lloyd said in his deep voice, I'll give you a thrashing you won't ever forget.

Lewis thought of how his squeaky little voice sounded next to Lloyd's and decided not to use it a second time. Not waiting the five seconds he had been given, he suddenly charged the older boy. Taking him off guard, Lewis plowed into Lloyd's stomach with his head, knocking him against the barn. Lloyd made a tremendous Uummph!

Lewis had hoped that he might do sufficient damage so that he could make an escape, but this was not to be. Even with the wind knocked out of him, Lloyd grabbed and held Lewis's head. As his breath returned, he began pummelling Lewis's face with his free hand. In a moment Lewis heard footsteps rushing toward then from around the barn. He tried to wrench his head free of Lloyd so he could get away.

Get him, Lloyd! shouted Tetty. Give him what for!

Lloyd slammed Lewis to the ground, threw himself on top of him and raised his arm to strike. Lewis flung an arm up to fend off the blow.

You stop that! Aunt Virginia shouted. There will be no fighting amongst family.

Lloyd looked up at his mother and reluctantly pushed himself off Lewis.

It's bad enough we have to fight our neighbors, she went on, in a lower voice. Lewis leaped up, panting, and stood tensely a few feet away. Stella ran over to Lewis, taking his shoulders and turning him, to look at him. His nose was bleeding and his left eye was swollen shut. He pulled away from her violently, yanking a handkerchief from his breeches and holding his nose with it. Then he stomped around his mother, with his free hand whisking his hat from the ground in front of Lloyd. Giving it a whack on his backside, he replaced it on his head.

---

Aunt Virginia told Lloyd to get some water. She, Tetty and Stella went into the house, and the two boys washed themselves at a basin inside the barn in strained silence. Then they went into the house. When Lewis got inside, his mother looked at him a little more closely, despite his protestations, and found that both his only shirt and his only waistcoat were torn; perhaps beyond repair. Emotions he couldn't read – or didn't want to read – splashed across her face. Lewis wasn't forced to endure this for long, because dinner was waiting. He and his mother sat on one side of the table, his aunt and cousins on the other.

The food was nothing remarkable; only the same fare as was usually on a Virginia or Maryland table this time of year: the corn spoonbread, potatoes, salted tongue boiled with carrots, turnips, and parsnips, fresh beans, and grog. But they'd had so little to eat since leaving Baltimore, nearly a month ago, it seemed like a feast to Lewis.

Not a pleasant feast, though. They had only two trenchers. Instead of one each, they had one for the adults and one for the children. Tetty made a special point of not letting herself touch anything Lewis had touched in the trencher. She didn't wipe the trencher with her bread, either, like Lloyd did, but would only place her pewter spoon in the dish with a great show of care.

No one said a word the whole meal. Lewis's upper lip swelled and now hurt, making biting difficult. Lewis tried to swill the grog around in his mouth to numb the pain, but the grog tasted funny so he didn't like to. They must have used corn whiskey instead of rum to mix with the water in their grog, he thought.

When they were through, Tetty and her mother began to clear the dinner things away. Lloyd got up, stretched and yawned as though no one else was in the room, then pulled a leather pouch from his shirt. He took a cornstalk pipe from another pocket, and filled it from the pouch. Holding the filled pipe in one hand, he walked to the fire, and bent to hold a piece of kindling in the coals until it ignited. He caught his mother's eye and nodded toward the door. Then he went out. Soon, tobacco smoke drifted weakly into the room. Everyone knew it was rude of Lloyd not to have offered Lewis a pipe and tobacco, but this, too, was passed over in silence.

---

Lewis shook his head and climbed up into the loft where he would sleep. When he had proven that his father wasn't a deserter, then people would treat him and his mother properly. Then they'd be sorry for the way they'd acted. For a moment, Lewis wondered which he wanted more: to prove that his father wasn't a deserter, to make all those terrible people treat him and his mother right, or to pay them back for the way they'd treated him. He lay on his pallet trying to put the thoughts out of his head. More than anything, he wanted to prove his father innocent. He winced as he tried to bury his face in the bolster and banged his sore eye. He wanted to prove his father innocent; but the worst of it was...the worst of it was, he hated to admit it, but he wasn't absolutely positive, himself.

2

Sunday Morning

The next day was Sunday. Holy Eucharist was at ten o'clock, and the Abingdon Church a good five or more miles from the Elliot farm. They started west down the dusty trail to the Great Road and the church not long after eight o'clock. Going to be some suckering to be done tomorrow, said Aunt Virginia as soon as they reached the tobacco field. She bent over and examined a plant. There were a few little buds pushing out just above the upper leaves on the stem. Most of the lower leaves were quite broad and the bottom two or three leaves were getting yellowish.

And some priming, too, I expect, she continued. It was back-breaking work, going through the tobacco, gently pulling off the ripe lower leaves, or priming, as it was called. That was why it was mostly done by slaves. There weren't so many slaves in Maryland, where Lewis had gone to school, and nowhere near as many plantations. But in Gloucester County, Lewis had been told, there were just about as many slaves as there were people; maybe fifteen hundred of each.

His mother's family had a plantation and slaves over in James City County, until they sold everything and moved back to England when the revolution broke out. It was just as well they had, Lewis's mother had told him. Many another Loyalist family had been burned out, or worse. But she wouldn't go with them. She'd lived here her whole life. She was an American, her husband was an American, her child was an American, she had said, and they intended to stay. Lewis glanced at her as she moved along quickly beside him, her face giving no hint of her thoughts. Maybe she wished now that she'd gone when she had the chance.

He looked at the fields again. Lewis expected he would do his share of the work, since he had to depend on his uncle's family to feed him. But he hoped he'd be assigned the suckering. He walked along mechanically, examining the tobacco as he went. Tobacco was a funny plant. It needed lots of attention if it was to make you any money. Most families grew it if they had any room after their Indian corn and kitchen garden. In fact, there was a law in Virginia that everyone had to grow a certain amount of corn for a certain measure of tobacco, else all the colonists at the beginning would only have grown tobacco, which they could sell to the British. They would have had plenty of money, but nothing to eat.

But those tobacco seeds had to be planted at just the right time. The seedlings had to be transplanted at the right time. The plants had to be topped, which meant cutting off the flowers, at just the right time. They had to be primed regularly, maybe once a week. And the little flower buds that tried to grow where the leaves came out after the plants had been topped, had to be pulled off. That was called suckering. The plant wanted to make flowers, the grower wanted it to make big fat leaves. If the grower was to win, someone had to keep pulling off the flowers.

Lewis plodded along behind his mother. He took his hat off, swiped at his forehead, carefully, so as not to touch his eye, and sighed. Suckering reminded him of life. People wanted to use everything to get what they wanted. In fact, that's what this long, long war was all about. England wanted a fat leaf, America wanted to flower. England wanted to use America to get what King George wanted. There were factories and workers in England, raw materials in America. King George wanted to increase English profits and give the workers something to do. Americans were, therefore, supposed to harvest the raw materials and send them to England. They were not supposed to build factories to process their own raw materials. Tobacco had to be sent to England. Colonists weren't allowed to make cigars and snuff and chaw. Colonists could spin thread, but they weren't supposed to weave cloth. Thread was supposed to be sent to England to be woven into cloth. Looms weren't allowed in America.

And then there was the Stamp Act. Lewis didn't understand that very well. But his father had told him that the issue was No taxation without representation, and that meant that Americans were going to decide what to do if they were going to pay for it. And that's why his father couldn't have been a deserter. Didn't Lafayette understand that? His father couldn't have deserted. He loved America. He loved what the revolution meant; deciding for oneself, making one's own way. Lewis held out his hand so it touched each tobacco plant he passed. They were all trying to grow their little flowers.

Lewis remembered his father's far off face. Even as he walked along, he colored to recall how, right there, in front of the whole army, the Marquis de Lafayette, himself had stripped his father of his officer's epaulets, taken his sword and broken it, and sent his father on his way. Lewis had seen the whole thing along with half of the people of Baltimore. And then his father had had to run to get away from the soldiers and civilians who would have attacked him. A few minutes after that, another soldier had been hanged for deserting.

Of course, Lewis thought he understood why his father had not come around to their house, even to say good bye. It was just too dangerous. And that was why his father hadn't written, or sent for him and his mother,