|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jun 19, 2014 16:43:15 GMT
Was it so irresponsible to take that young kid out and show him a little bit of fun? Perhaps. But that was not the way Kit viewed it. Wyler was only sixteen but the rumors had it that he already knew a thing or two about the streets. Kit intended to see just what he knew about drinking and a game of cards. Because that was what really mattered. The kid used to pickpockets which was all good and well for small change. But gambling – that exhilarating game of chance – was the way to survive. Kit had made a small fortune in the last five years (he took a year to learn the tricks). And he was respected for it (except by those who accused him of cheating).
But overall, he liked Wyler. He certainly seemed like a good kid and not one too averse to trouble. So he decided – taking advantage of some off-duty time – to take him to Fraunces Tavern.
It was the middle of the afternoon and the tavern was already growing crowded. Men (and the occasional woman) were enjoying themselves after finishing up their work for the day. A game of cards – picquet by the look of it – was being carried on in one corner. Kit made a mental note to join them later. He ushered Wyler in and to one of the available tables.
”What'll you drink? Wine? Beer? Something stronger? For myself, I think simple rum sounds delightful.” He signaled to a barmaid.
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jun 19, 2014 21:55:06 GMT
Wyler had been a bit suspicious at first when the other fellow had genially invited him to go along to some local tavern. For most of his young life, people did not do him favors so he naturally thought there must be another reason other than friendship or comraderie. Still, this Kit, for that was what the fellow liked to be called, did seem genuine enough at least so he agreed. Besides, Kit offered to pay. That cinched it.
They had some off duty time so Kit led the boy to a place called Fraunces Tavern. It was a pretty typical sort of drinking spot, with other entertainment offered to like gambling and women. Wyler smiled as he entered thru the door, waiting til Kit joined him then at his side. The boy grinned at a woman, a barmaid, who winked at him as she passed by carrying a tray with tankards upon it. It was noisy and smoky, everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Kit offered him a choice to drink and expressed a preference for rum. Wyler had drunk spirits before, not a lot for it wasn't something he could normally afford but still he was no virgin to the effects of liquor. Women, now that was a whole different kettle of fish.
"Umm, well...sure, rum sounds right nice, I'll take rum," he had no problem going along with his new benefactor.
He continued to look around, "You been here before?" |
|
|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jun 23, 2014 3:35:42 GMT
Kit placed their orders and before he had time to speak again, two large tankards of rum were set before them. He immediately set to work on his own, downing half of it in one go. It was good rum, though it's temperature was barely below that of the room. It certainly wouldn't last long. He signalled to the barmaid again for two more drinks. It was good to be prepared.
He laughed. ”Of course I've been here before. Fraunces is one of the best places to get a cheap drink. It's peopled by a perfect mixture of -mostly- amiable gentlemen, not so many Loyalists to make us uncomfortable but yet not so many Patriots as to stir up trouble. Or more trouble than we can handle anyway.” He traced a finger along the rim of his tankard. ”At least don't come near here after one of them Liberty meetings. They's always end in fighting. And a lad like yourself would come off the worst for it.”
He had found himself in the midst of those fights once or twice though it was usually something he tried to avoid. It wasn't that he couldn't fight – he certainly could hold his own – but he had absolutely no desire to find himself hurt or in a troubling situation from which there was no ready escape. Kit valued his life and his time immensely. Hard words and excessive pride were not worth either.
”But enough about me,” Kit said, ignoring the fact that he hadn't actually said anything about him, ”How did such a young fellow like yourself end up in the Rebel army?” He took another drink. ”Now, I've heard some rumors, but surely your life couldn't have been half so interesting.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jun 23, 2014 15:56:59 GMT
Wyler nodded when the man explained about the mix within the tavern, least it wasn't a Tory stronghold. He'd never been to a Liberty meeting but it did amuse him when the other fellow assumed he would fare poorly in a brawl. Given his background, he'd been in plenty of scuffles.
"I might just surprise you. Like they say, it's not the size of the dog but the fight in the dog," Wyler smiled then drank some rum. He'd had it before but it was strong stuff and he had no intention of getting off his feet (and helpless) drunk on this day.
The man then moved on to questions, questions about him. Wyler wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Genuine interest or did the fellow have some sort of scheming reason behind wanting to know more? The boy decided the truth wouldn't hurt any, although he was certainly quite capable of telling convincing lies too.
How he ended up in the regiment? That was easy.
"Well, simple. I got caught takin' somethin' that weren't mine. Hauled up in front of a judge who decided to send me on to the army. Put me to work rather than just rot in a jail cell. It didn't sound all that bad. Get fed, wear a blue coat and get handed a musket. So anyhow, here I am."
Then the fellow mentioned rumors without detailing what exactly those were. Now rumors could be a lot of things, some of them quite bad.
"Not sure what you mean by that. I lived on the streets in Boston for as long as I can remember. I don't know who my folks were. You could call that sorta life interesting if you want, I'd probably use another word," he shrugged narrow shoulders and gulped some more rum. |
|
|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jun 25, 2014 19:24:50 GMT
"Ay, that's true enough," Kit replied. And it was. Oftentimes the smaller, scrappier person won in a fight simply by being smaller, darting through small holes, evading blows, and outlasting the larger opponent. Not to mention the penchant for fighting dirty that tended to accompany that smaller size. Not that Wyler was one of those types but, in Kit's life, he knew that if you wanted something badly enough, there was no such rule against doing whatever it took to win.
"That's it?" Kit's voice contained a note of disappointment. "Well, I must admit to feeling a little let down. Some of the other boys were carrying on and on that you murdered someone but as that someone was a bloody loyalist, there was no real harm done." His looked into his tankard. It was empty so he picked up the next one and continued drinking. "There is a more interesting story - one I like much more - that has you saving General Washington's life and that you are soon to be a General yourself - on account of your saving him. General Wyler Munroe!"
He raised his tankard and shouted with a laugh. "A toast to you, General!" Kit was quickly growing drunk.
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jun 29, 2014 1:50:46 GMT
The young man was disappointed with Wyler's version of his life thus far, even though it was the truthful one. It seems some of the other men had spun much grander tales about the boy's past. Well, let them say and think what they want, he ought to know what really happened. He lived it.
"No, haven't killed no one yet. Got into a bad fight once and we both got stabbed but nothing real serious, lucky for the both of us. That's been it," Wyler shrugged and sipped his rum, the other man was going at his a whole lot faster.
Caswell then revealed an even more outlandish tale. He saved General Washington? And would soon be promoted? As the farmers would say 'Hogwash'.
"No, I've seen the general a few times as he rides thru camp or talks to the officers while we drill but never been that close up to him. Never talked to him and certainly never saved his life. That would be quite something though, I guess. Me, an actual hero," Wyler grinned.
"Besides I think they want a general who can actually ride a horse and read an order or a map, I can't do none of those," he pointed out but since the man was toasting him, he raised his tankard and the two clanked then drank.
"What about you? You seem like a fine gentleman. Couldn't you become an officer?" Wyler now asked. |
|
|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jun 30, 2014 3:55:06 GMT
Of course they were just rumors. Kit knew that but he still had a bit of hope lingering. He loved an exciting tale and despite being in the Continental Army, he hadn't yet gotten to live one. He was both envious and enraptured by the tales of others, particularly General Washington. That man was one exciting tale after another - provided they were all true, of course.
"Stabbings are exciting. Did you get caught? Who started the fight? Was it over a woman?" Kit intended to push him for every little detail.
Kit feigned a look of surprise and disbelief. "You've truly never spoken to him? I got to speak to him, once. It was when I first enlisted and the army was still a disorganized rabble of men. I suppose that was the only chance for anyone who wasn't an officer or politician to meet him. I don't think he even knew yet who his officers were." He took a drink. "I didn't make a very good first impression though. If he wasn't so hard pressed for men, I'm certain he would have dismissed me then or there. That man has a temper. I've seen him order a hundred lashes for dropping a buckle. I'd be careful if you ever find yourself in his presence. He has a keen eye for detail so nothing amiss misses him." Kit was exaggerating. It was true that his impression had been less than ideal but Washington was not known for having a terrible temper. There were a handful of offenses that General Washington was swift to punish - drunkenness (he made a note to walk off the rum before returning to barracks), stealing, desertion, cowardice, etc. But, if anything, he was a fair man so long as you did your duty.
"Of course I could be an officer, if I wanted to. But there's a lot of work that goes in that and responsibility. But I am thinking on it. Not a General or anything but maybe a corporal."
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jul 4, 2014 17:41:48 GMT
The other man was very excited for his mention of a knife fight. Well, it was hardly a pleasant memory for Wyler but he would relate it to please the fellow given he was paying for the rum. One finger played with the rim of the tankard while he talked.
"Exciting? It was damned scary is what it was. We'd partnered up for a few jobs..." well he used the word 'jobs' but it had not really been that, no one hired them, those had been thefts, "this other boy and me. We were in this alley and we got into this squabble over how got what as far as shares. He then took upon himself to draw out his knife to settle it. I had no choice but to draw out mine. Neither one really knew what we were doin' to tell you the truth. He was older than me, taller, but skinner, a real beanpole. We ended up stabbing each other. He got me pretty good, tore thru my shirt and nicked my ribs. I bled til I wrapped it. As for him I stuck mine in his guts. He was in a lot of pain when he stumbled off. My knife wasn't that big so I don't know how deep it went in. Checked around the next day though and no one had found or talked about a dead boy so....figured he made it too."
Wyler shrugged, "I liked him ....but he was greedy."
Now when Christopher began talking about General Washington and what he knew about the man, now that was interesting alright. Stern but fair....Wyler didn't think that was bad, not bad at all. Course given the rather dowdy state of what uniform he did have, if Washington had an eye for detail he would not be pleased. Still, nothing Wyler could do about it.
Christopher admitted he could be an officer if he wanted but seemed a bit reluctant due to the work and responsibility. Wyler wouldn't judge him for that. He did have to smile though at Caswell's remark on becoming a corporal.
"Umm, a corporal ain't an officer. I think lieutenant is the lowest officer....far as I know," he felt compelled to point out. |
|
|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jul 7, 2014 15:51:24 GMT
Kit laughed. "You have a funny way of showing that you liked him, greedy or not."
There was no way the kid was speaking the truth. He wasn't even a grown man yet. But there had been stories ... Kit had heard several. Perhaps he was speaking the truth. "Did you really stab someone? I bet you're handy with a bayonet. The General will be happy about that. I overheard one Captain tell another one that the General wanted more drilling done with bayonets. I'm not surprised, really. The Redcoats sure seem to love them." He hated them. It was one thing to fire at someone from a distance and even to be fired at - most muskets missed unless you were unfortunate. But up close with the yelling and shouting and blood everywhere - bayonets were horrifying.
"Of course it is," Kit replied though without much conviction. Was he wrong? He couldn't remember. All of this military knowledge escaped him. He certainly had heard someone speak of corporals. "If it's not an officer then what is a Corporal? They certainly exist. And they're not just given out to anybody so they must be important. Besides, what do you know? You're just a kid." His pride was hurt, a fact he masked by taking a long drink and draining his cup.
"Do you play cards? Or would you rather we found something more exciting to do? I'm sure I can think of something quite thrilling."
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jul 11, 2014 15:34:46 GMT
"He tried to stab me too," Wyler pointed out, he wasn't much for regrets besides there hadn't been a lot of options back then.
Now the man thought he was good with a bayonet? Wyler shook his head, "No, I never used one other than our drills. We yell and stick 'em forward and such. Not sure how much that will ready us for when we have to use 'em."
Frankly he was terrified of having to cross bayonets with a bunch of redcoats, those long pointed blades looked so grim, he could only imagine the agony of having one of those things run thru a person. While he liked to consider himself brave enough, he felt it most likely he'd just turn and run rather than take his chances facing angry soldiers with bayonets.
The man seemed a bit chuffed when Wyler pointed out about corporals.
"Well, never said they didn't exist. Just said they ain't officers," Wyler tried to defend himself, "And I might be just a kid and can't read or write like you but I do know corporals definitely are not officers."
The man then finished his second cup of rum, Wyler was still nursing his first, quite deliberately. Now the fellow asked about cards.
"I guess I can learn. Might have a bit of trouble reading the cards though," the boy admitted, he'd watched card games before, "And I don't got any money. Don't you need money to play cards....so you can bet? |
|
|
|
Post by Christopher Caswell on Jul 21, 2014 0:21:46 GMT
"That's really all there is to it though I suppose it's done all the while dodging their own bayonets. The Redcoats certainly aren't shy about using them. I think some of them love it. And some of those Hessians too. Bloody-minded and unfeeling." Kit hadn't actually met any Redcoats or Hessians but he had heard hundreds of stories - none of them nice. The one story that stuck out in his mind - particularly at any mention of battle - was that Hessians refused to give quarter. There was no sense in surrendering to them because you ended up dead anyway. "I'm surprised that more haven't risen up to join us." He said it without much conviction. Freedom and liberty and overthrowing tyranny were glorious and wonderful things. But when it came down to it, those were quickly forgotten. Enlistment meant long periods of time away from friends and family and comfort and warmth and hearty food. He really wasn't so surprised that more didn't enlist. Liberty wasn't worth suffering. At least not yet to many of them. "Corporals are above the enlisted men but without the responsibility. That's better than most officers anyway. They'd probably get better food and certainly more pay. That's good enough for me." While he spoke, he pulled a very worn deck of cards - thinner than a typical deck, it was his piquet deck - out of his pocket. He began shuffling them. "You know your numbers, right? That's all that matters. We'll play the first game without bets, so you can learn and then the next can be done with IOUs." Alternating between themselves, he dealt twelve cards to Wyler and twelve to himself. He placed the remaining eight cards face down between. "Piquet. It is one of the oldest games so everyone should know how to play it. A game consists of six hands and each hand consists of three things. First, we exchange cards. The non-dealer or elder goes first. You must discard at least one card or at most five cards. You place them face down and then pick up an equal number from the Talon," he pointed to the eight cards in the middle of the table. "The other player then does the same though they are restricted in the number of cards to take by how many is left. The second point in a hand is the declarations. There are three ways to declare. Point is the number of cards in one suit. For example, say I had five spades. I would declare "Point of five." If I won that point, I would receive five points. The second would be Sequence. A 7, 8, and 9 would be referred to as a Tierce. Four cards in order would be a Quart, etc. But we don't have to do the French terms if you do not wish it. And the last is a Set. This only counts for the 10's and above. A Quatorze is all four Kings or Queens or all the way down to 10's. A Trio is the same but only three of them. The non-dealer declares first. In which case I would then reply with Good if your declaration is better than mine, in which case you would receive the points. Or Not-Good, in which case your declaration is not better than mine and you receive no points. Or Equal in which case we add the face values of all cards or the highest card in sequences. Do you get it so far? I swear it is not nearly so difficult as it sounds." Kit laughed, realizing that his directions were probably making little to no sense to someone who hasn't played a card game before.
( How to play piquet here )
|
|
|
|
Post by Wyler Munroe on Jul 24, 2014 2:21:51 GMT
"Yes, damn Germans," growled Wyler then sipped his rum again. This was none of the Hessians business, why were they even here in the colonies? He heard it was because their prince was getting gold from the English king for their services, seemed like only he was getting a good deal out of that while his soldiers were far from home trapsing about in a strange land and on occasion dying there too.
Christopher was quite pleased about the corporalship and it's advantages. Wyler wasn't so sure but wouldn't argue the point. The man probably knew a whole lot more about life than he did. The conversation moved on to games and specifically cards.
"Numbers....a little, yeah," Wyler nodded.
However then the other fellow launched into this big explanation of the card game he hoped they could play. Wyler tried to listen, he really did but halfway thru he was completely lost by all the terms and possibilities. This fellow knew the game, that was certain, he was even using French terms. But it was all over Wyler's head.
"No, I'm not following. I have no idea what all yer talkin' about I'm sorry," Wyler had to admit when asked if he got if so far.
"Mayhaps you could talk someone else here into playin' with you?" he suggested.
|
|
