with amusement, “but yes, General, I command the Massachusetts Artillery Regiment and, because most of our guns are mounted on the island, I command there too. And you, General, will command at Majajuce?”
“Majajuce?” Wadsworth said, then realized Revere meant Majabigwaduce. “I am second in command,” he went on, “to General Lovell.”
“And there are British rats at Majajuce,” Revere said.
“As far as we can determine,” Wadsworth said, “they’ve landed at least a thousand men and possess three sloops-of-war. Not an overlarge force, but not risible either.”
“Risible,” Revere said, as if amused by the word. “But to rid Massachusetts of those rats, General, you’ll need guns.”
“We will indeed.”
“And the guns will need an officer in command,” Revere added pointedly.
“Indeed they will,” Wadsworth said. All the senior appointments of the expedition that was being hurriedly prepared to evict the British from Majabigwaduce had been made. Solomon Lovell would command the ground forces, Commander Dudley Saltonstall of the Continental Frigate Warren would be the naval commander, and Wadsworth would be Lovell’s deputy. The troops, drawn from the militias of York, Cumberland, and Lincoln counties, had their commanding officers, while the adjutant-general, quartermaster-general, surgeon-general, and brigade majors had all received their orders, and now only the commander of the artillery train needed to be appointed.
“The guns will need an officer in command,” Revere pressed Wadsworth, “and I command the Artillery Regiment.”
Wadsworth gazed at a ginger-colored cat washing itself on top of a barrel. “No one,” he said carefully, “would deny that you are the man best qualified to command the artillery at Majabigwaduce.”
“So I can expect a letter from the Board of War?” Revere said.
“If I am satisfied,” Wadsworth said, nerving himself to raise the matter that had brought him to the armory.
“Satisfied about what, General?” Revere asked, still looking up into Wadsworth’s face.
Peleg Wadsworth made himself look into the steady brown eyes. “A complaint was made,” he said, “concerning the Castle Island ration demands, a matter of surplus, Colonel . . .”
“Surplus!” Revere interrupted, not angrily, but in a tone suggesting he found the word amusing. He smiled, and Wadsworth found himself unexpectedly warming to the man. “Tell me, General,” Revere went on, “how many troops you’ll be taking to Majajuce.”
“We can’t be certain,” Wadsworth said, “but we expect to take an infantry force of at least fifteen hundred men.”
“And you’ve ordered rations for that many?”
“Of course.”
“And if only fourteen hundred men report for duty, General, what will you do with the surplus ration?”
“It will be accounted for,” Wadsworth said, “of course.”
“This is war!” Revere said energetically. “War and blood, fire and iron, death and damage, and a man can’t account for everything in war! I’ll make as many lists as you like when the war is over.”
Wadsworth frowned. Doubtless it was war, yet the Castle Island garrison, like Lieutenant-Colonel Revere himself, had yet to fire a shot at the enemy. “It is alleged, Colonel,” Wadsworth said firmly, “that your garrison was comprised of a fixed number of men, yet the ration demands consistently cited thirty nonexistent gunners.”
Revere gave a tolerant smile, suggesting he had heard all this before. “Consistently,” he said derisively, “consistently, eh? Long words don’t kill the enemy, General.”
“Another long word,” Wadsworth said, “is peculation.”
The accusation was now open. The word hung in the dusty air. It was alleged that Revere had ordered extra rations that he had then sold for personal gain, though Wadsworth did not articulate that full accusation. He did not need to. Colonel Revere looked up into Wadsworth’s face, then shook his head
“Majajuce?” Wadsworth said, then realized Revere meant Majabigwaduce. “I am second in command,” he went on, “to General Lovell.”
“And there are British rats at Majajuce,” Revere said.
“As far as we can determine,” Wadsworth said, “they’ve landed at least a thousand men and possess three sloops-of-war. Not an overlarge force, but not risible either.”
“Risible,” Revere said, as if amused by the word. “But to rid Massachusetts of those rats, General, you’ll need guns.”
“We will indeed.”
“And the guns will need an officer in command,” Revere added pointedly.
“Indeed they will,” Wadsworth said. All the senior appointments of the expedition that was being hurriedly prepared to evict the British from Majabigwaduce had been made. Solomon Lovell would command the ground forces, Commander Dudley Saltonstall of the Continental Frigate Warren would be the naval commander, and Wadsworth would be Lovell’s deputy. The troops, drawn from the militias of York, Cumberland, and Lincoln counties, had their commanding officers, while the adjutant-general, quartermaster-general, surgeon-general, and brigade majors had all received their orders, and now only the commander of the artillery train needed to be appointed.
“The guns will need an officer in command,” Revere pressed Wadsworth, “and I command the Artillery Regiment.”
Wadsworth gazed at a ginger-colored cat washing itself on top of a barrel. “No one,” he said carefully, “would deny that you are the man best qualified to command the artillery at Majabigwaduce.”
“So I can expect a letter from the Board of War?” Revere said.
“If I am satisfied,” Wadsworth said, nerving himself to raise the matter that had brought him to the armory.
“Satisfied about what, General?” Revere asked, still looking up into Wadsworth’s face.
Peleg Wadsworth made himself look into the steady brown eyes. “A complaint was made,” he said, “concerning the Castle Island ration demands, a matter of surplus, Colonel . . .”
“Surplus!” Revere interrupted, not angrily, but in a tone suggesting he found the word amusing. He smiled, and Wadsworth found himself unexpectedly warming to the man. “Tell me, General,” Revere went on, “how many troops you’ll be taking to Majajuce.”
“We can’t be certain,” Wadsworth said, “but we expect to take an infantry force of at least fifteen hundred men.”
“And you’ve ordered rations for that many?”
“Of course.”
“And if only fourteen hundred men report for duty, General, what will you do with the surplus ration?”
“It will be accounted for,” Wadsworth said, “of course.”
“This is war!” Revere said energetically. “War and blood, fire and iron, death and damage, and a man can’t account for everything in war! I’ll make as many lists as you like when the war is over.”
Wadsworth frowned. Doubtless it was war, yet the Castle Island garrison, like Lieutenant-Colonel Revere himself, had yet to fire a shot at the enemy. “It is alleged, Colonel,” Wadsworth said firmly, “that your garrison was comprised of a fixed number of men, yet the ration demands consistently cited thirty nonexistent gunners.”
Revere gave a tolerant smile, suggesting he had heard all this before. “Consistently,” he said derisively, “consistently, eh? Long words don’t kill the enemy, General.”
“Another long word,” Wadsworth said, “is peculation.”
The accusation was now open. The word hung in the dusty air. It was alleged that Revere had ordered extra rations that he had then sold for personal gain, though Wadsworth did not articulate that full accusation. He did not need to. Colonel Revere looked up into Wadsworth’s face, then shook his head
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