Tail Gait

September 1, 1781

A light rain didn’t dampen John Schuyler’s spirits. Hurrying to his quarters, he carefully packed what little gear he had in a small campaign trunk. Kept under his cot, so small his feet hung over the end, the two treasured books Catherine had given him, the paper in which they were wrapped, and the raffia all rested in the trunk, along with a letter from his mother. She had paid to have it written in a good hand. John sent his parents what he could spare when he was paid. Not often.

The second small book on good paper contained two of Shakespeare’s plays, Macbeth and Julius Caesar. Catherine had selected the dramas for him because of their military themes.

Having few possessions, he packed in twenty minutes. He pushed the trunk back under the cot, walked to Lieutenant West’s barracks. Although early evening, the air remained warm, a light breeze making all pleasant.

“Lieutenant,” Schuyler called, outside West’s barracks.

Inside and barefoot, Charles heard the familiar voice and walked from the housing, Piglet at his heels. “Captain.”

A broad grin crossed John Schuyler’s face. “I have been assigned to Lafayette. The war most definitely is in Virginia, and I leave at daylight.” He laughed. “The commandant won’t give me a horse.”

“That will be a long walk to the coast, I assume.” Charles had gained an understanding of Virginia’s geography.

John smiled. “I will hire a wagon. I am allowed to do that. Finally, free from this place. You are not the only one imprisoned here.”

“Just different sides of the fence, so to speak.”

“I am hoping to pass through large towns, and I would like to buy and send a book to Miss Ewing. Can you suggest something?”

The two discussed the contents of Aesop’s Fables and the two Shakespeare plays. The Englishman was impressed with how the captain grasped the essence of each play, even as he struggled with the language in spots. In this way, those few times when the dark-haired man could speak with Catherine, he could hold his own during literary discussions, constrained though they were. John and Catherine grew closer in mind through the readings. Charles knew how quick her mind was. Schuyler, adept at anything involving arms, was now proving adept at reading for pleasure. He had never before read for pleasure.

“I don’t know books,” he complained. “What would she like? I can’t give her more plays. She’s read them all.”

Charles said, without hesitation. “The Sonnets. Buy her the best bound volume you can afford of Shakespeare’s Sonnets.”

“Do you not think she has read everything he has written? She prizes him above all others.”

“Captain, the volume will be from you and the work is very beautiful. The Sonnets it must be.” Charles held out his hand. “May my pistol protect you. May you be well.”

“And you also.”

A mischievous smile played on Charles’s lips. “Our paths will cross again. Not in war, I trust.”

Impulsively, John took both of Charles’s hands in his. “I pray it be so.”

He turned and walked off with Charles’s good wishes and his father’s expensive flintlock.

Walking back into the barracks, the dust still warm between his toes, Charles noticed Piglet standing still, watching the tall captain disappear in the distance.