The Thistle against the Crown: Chapter 4

Horatio addresses the town of Berwick asking them to join the revolution, but not all are patriots.

     “Haec sancta quae missa finite domino diligamus, et egrediamur ad invicem.” The Priest at the small church said from behind the alter of St. William of Perth church.

     “Deo Gratias.” The congregation replied in unison as the Catholic Mass ended.

     “Now, I believe Mr. Horatio Cameron would like to make an announcement.” Father James MacTavish announced as he came around to the front of the alter and stood, patiently. He was a kindly looking gentleman, aged around forty-five, and had been the town’s Catholic Priest since long before Horatio and his father had arrived.

     Horatio was sitting in the front of the church beside Sinead, Dougal and Sinead’s two children Aiden and Colleen. He stood and then genuflected as he reached the middle of the aisle before turning to face the rest of the crowd. The entire town sat before him. While some of them were Methodist, Anglican, and Presbyterian, somehow in Berwick they had all managed to get along, and Father MacTavish’s services were always kept a bit less Catholic than usual, to help those of different denominations feel more at ease. The town was made up of Highlanders, Lowlanders, Irish, and even a few English settlers. Some were fresh from the old world, while others descended from some of the first settlers to reach Berwick. While some towns would require the Scots, and the Irish to sit in the back of the church, or even stand in the vestibule, the people of Berwick sat together, intermixed, regardless of nationality, or faith. This was the world that Horatio hoped would become normal if they won the war that he was about to announce to them.

     Horatio stood before the crowd in a set of dark blue knee breeches, a plaid waistcoat, and a dark blue, wool, gentleman’s coat. His hair was tied back with a black ribbon and left free in a ponytail, and he looked completely different than he had when he had come home the night before.

     "You all know me, and you all know my past." Horatio began speaking, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. "And by now I'm sure you have heard all the news from Boston. So what I'm going to suggest isn't going to be an easy choice for you. It certainly wasn't for me." He looked down at Sinéad and Dougal, "And it's a choice every man and woman is going to have to make for themselves." He paused again, "War is coming. It is inevitable. It will spread from Massachusetts and into New Hampshire and before long it could be at our doorstep, though I pray that it does not. Many of you, have never seen war, and for that you are blessed." Horatio began to start walking up the aisle, making eye contact with as many people as he could, "We have a tradition in this town, that every Sunday after Mass and after the noon meal, we gather around the town common and the men drill ready ourselves incase of an attack by savages, or some other raiding force. We will continue that this afternoon, and once we are done, myself and Sergeant Major Cameron will be taking names to volunteer to travel to Exeter, New Hampshire and join up with the Second Regiment that is being formed there."
     "This talk is treason." A voice came from the side of one of the middle pews.

     Horatio turned around as a man in a burgundy gentleman's coat, a green waistcoat and a matching burgundy pair of knee breaches stood. He was taller than Horatio, and much stalkier around the midsection. His brown hair was speckled with grey and his face was worn from so many winters, but yet his hands did not show the calluses of those who toiled every day for a living.

     "George Campbell, you object to this?" Horatio asked folding his hands in front of him, waiting for the man to speak his piece.

     "Aye! I do! What you are speaking of is inciting a population into armed rebellion against their king." Campbell responded sharply, "And if we send men to fight in this rebellion, then what will happen if the town is attacked? Who will defend us then?"

     "It is true. Those who volunteer to come with us to New Hampshire will be willfully committing treason, the same as every other colonist who has gone to Boston, and those who died that April morning." Horatio replied, "But what did they die for? We all know that King George hasn't been a friend to the colonies in quite a spell, and he hasn't been a friend to the Scots in even longer. In my opinion, we owe him nothing."

     "Whether those seditious sentiments are true or not, we are subjects of the British crown, regardless of who sits on the throne!" Campbell argued, "And I'm surprised that a former officer in His Majesty's Army would even suggest such a thing."

     The voices in the church began to mumble as Campbell finished, all acknowledging the fact that Horatio had been a British officer, which made his statement that much more unbelievable.

     Horatio paused and thought about his next words carefully, "It's true, but because I fought in the Seven Years War, I can tell you first hand what His Majesty's Army is capable of! I've seen them send hundreds of Scots to their deaths in an impossible attack. I've seen them show no remorse over the loss of those men, and no consideration for those who were wounded." Somewhere in the back of Horatio's mind the guns from the French Lines at Carlion echoed. The memory still fresh as though it had happened just yesterday. He felt himself begin to get heated, and paused to calm himself down, "And that is why I say that we owe England nothing! We've already given them our blood, and now they seek to bleed us further by taxing us into poverty! If the British can blockade Boston Harbor, then eventually they could blockade the entire coast. What will we do then? What will you do, Mr. Campbell when you can't get your wares to your store to sell?"

     "Then we appeal peacefully to the King and to Parliment." Campbell replied, "We do whatever we can to show him that we are still loyal subjects."

     "And how does the King repay his loyal subjects?" Sinéad finally interjected, "When they've given limbs and their minds to the King? They do nothing. They let them sink into booze and misery before they just die off without a shred of the men they once were left in them."

     "Ahhh the rabble rouser speaks!" Campbell replied, "Tell me, Mr. Cameron, do you always let women speak for you?"

     "I speak for myself." Sinéad barked back, "And for a husband who gave too much in the service of his king. And the King gave nothing back! He left a widow and orphans to fend for themselves."

     "And I can see that you are suffering greatly madam." Campbell said sarcastically.

     "I'd choose your next words carefully." Dougal said standing up.

     "Gentlemen please!" Horatio said, "We are a town build on coexistence. The number of people in this congregation proves that. We have people from all faiths, and all national backgrounds here, living peacefully side by side. But that's not the way it is in other colonies. Irish Catholics are forced to register themselves when they land in Boston, and are treated like second class citizens!" He turned around, "Scots are treated like second class citizens in many other colonies in the country. England already stripped us of our culture offering it back to us only if we agree to fight and die for a crown we don't fully believe in. But if we fight and we win this war, then we might have a chance to make all of the colonies like our town here. Everyone equal before God and before the law. No man having to bow, no family born in servitude. Everyone free. Free to make their own choices as I leave you free to do here." Horatio paused and looked around, "I command no man to join us. Each man is free to do as he chooses. Those who wish to stay, will be responsible only for defending the town against any threat." Horatio stopped, "So I leave you all with a choice. We will meet on the town green like we always do, and at the end of our drill, we will await volunteers."

     Horatio nodded and turned back to the pew he was sitting in where Dougal handed him his bonnet while the rest of the congregation got up and walked out. He knew there were mixed emotions among the townspeople and he couldn't blame them, even he was not completely in agreement with an open war against England. Part of him believed that it couldn't be won. He had seen the might of the British Army and he knew that a bunch of farmers and tradesmen wouldn't be able to stand up to the best army in the world, but he also knew that a group of men fighting for a cause that they believed in like their own freedom, could fight fiercer than a group of men who had been pressed into service.

     "Well, do you think it got their attention?" Dougal asked quietly as he and Horatio trailed behind Sinéad and her children.

     Horatio shrugged, "I don't know. We can only hope so, because I don't know how much luck you and I will have on our own." The pair laughed as they exited the church and turned to start the walk to the green. They paused only a moment or two to pick up their powder horns, dirks, cartridge boxes, and fowling pieces.

     "I can't understand why that b*****d still has any loyalty to that German farce on the throne." Sinéad snapped as they group continued walking on the dirt road.

     "Ehh he's a lowlander, what do you expect." Dougal said. It came out as a joke, but he was quite serious. Ever since the Battle of Culloden in 1746 there had been bad blood between the Highland Scots and the Lowland Scots, Clan Campbell in particular. In Berwick, for the most part, they had managed to bury the hatchet between the settlers who were from the Highlands, and those that were from the Lowlands, but talk of rebellion against England opened many old wounds. It was not surprising that the old rivalries were being reborn.

     Horatio laughed as they walked onto the green and found the large oak tree they always sat under. Sinéad opened the blanket they always brought for lunch and the group sat as Sinéad began to empty the large wicker basket of its contents.

     "We won't get the whole town." Horatio said calmly, "Many, like Campbell and his family, won't support the rebellion and others won't want to get involved for many reasons. But we will be able to guarantee one thing; those that come with us will do so of their own choice. No one coerced them."

     "I'm surprised you didn't tell them more of what is going on in Boston." Sinéad said unwrapping a piece of sausage from its wax paper.

     "Everyone knows already, there was no point in regurgitating it back to them." Horatio said breaking off a piece of bread.

     "And even though we are part of Massachusetts colony, most of these people couldn't feel more removed from them if they were on the other side of the ocean." Dougal interjected.

     "Aye, we trade more with the people in New Hampshire than we do with those in Massachusetts Bay." Horatio said.

     "I want to come fight Uncle Horatio." Aiden interjected enthusiastically.

     "Aye? And a great fighter you'd make too, lad. When you're older." Horatio said, "War isn't a place for a wee lad."

     "The crown army has drummer boys that are younger than I." Aiden protested.

     "Aye." Dougal responded, "And that's what makes us superior to them. We don't send our children out to fight."

     Horatio sat silently for a moment as the memory of a dying drummer boy flashed before his eyes. A young boy no older than his nephew that had fallen in the attack on the French lines had weakly called out to Horatio begging for help. His small hand outstretched pleading with the fourteen year old ensign, but there was nothing Horatio could do. Wounded himself, it was all Horatio could do to get back to his own lines, he didn't have the strength to pull another body to safety, no matter how much he wanted to.

     "The answer is no lad. I won't have any young children dying in a man's war." Horatio said firmly before getting up and walking out from under the tree.

     Both children looked up at their uncle and Sinéad even stopped what she was doing to let her eyes follow the man she'd come to care deeply about. It was obvious he was in pain, and while Sinéad had heard stories about the Black Watch's attack on the French Lines at Fort Carillon, she'd never gotten Horatio or Dougal to open up about what really happened that day. She'd decided long ago to let it be and not press the issue.

     "I didn't mean to upset him." Aiden said weakly, wondering if he should apologize for offering to fight.

     "Ahh, don't worry, lad." Dougal said smiling as he got up, "Your uncle just carries the ghosts a little closer to his chest than others." He patted the boy on the shoulder before walking out into the town square to where Horatio stood.

     The sun was bright that day, and while the wind offered a brisk reminder that winter was not so far behind them, it was warm in the bright rays of the sun where the men stood. The newly burst leaves on the trees rustled in the breeze offering a bit of peace in such a tumultuous time. It was almost calming, if one's own soul wasn't tormenting its self.

     "The lad was only trying to help." Dougal said as he came to stand next to Horatio.

     "I know." Horatio said in a much calmer voice than he had been only moments earlier, "But he doesn't understand. Most of them don't understand what this war will ask of them."

     "Having second thoughts, sir?" Dougal asked.

     Horatio let out a long breath and shook his head, "No. It's the right thing to do, but I just can't help but wonder what it will do to the peaceful town we've all built here. I mean look at it, Dougal... Scots, Irish, English. Lowlanders, Highlanders, Protestants, and Catholics all living side by side, caring neighbors all. You wouldn't find this back home. Remember when we left Scotland? The clans were still at each other’s throats. The English leaving a wake of death wherever they went. Families trying to scratch out a living in the Highlands while the Lowlanders lived fat and happy because they'd betrayed their own and fought with the English." He shook his head, "I don't want that to happen here."

     "And it won't." Dougal said earnestly, "Because if we win this war, then we can build a whole country built on those same principles. Things will return to normal here, but if we don't go, and we don't fight, then what will we have a chance at building? We'll be no better than those clans who refused to support the '45."

     Horatio nodded, "Aye, and I don't want anyone saying the Scots were afraid of a fight." He looked around one more time, "We can do this. We can win this war."

     "Aye... we can." Dougal said smiling, "Now come, eat. We can't win a war when we're hungry."

     Horatio and Dougal walked back to the blanket where Sinéad and her family sat eating their mid day meal. Everything was so peaceful; it was hard to imagine that in just a few hours the town would be training for war, and by this time the next day those who volunteered would be on their way to join the rebel army and from there, to war. No one knew what the future held in store for them. Nether Horatio or Dougal knew how many men from Berwick would answer the call and sign on to fight for a better world, but as they sat and ate they had perhaps the most powerful weapon they could hold: hope.

Author's Note

Another step towards the Revolution. I think the next few chapters will go along smoothly. I am excited to see what is in store for them. As always, constructive critiques and reviews, and comments are always welcome!