The Minister's Wife

Chapter 6

Oliver Hart was one of Philadelphia’s wealthier citizens. Owner of a global shipping concern, he was tall and slender with black hair and haunting brown eyes. He sat astride a black stallion in the center of Old Lancaster Road, warily watching the sentries who protected the approach to the British camp.

“State your intentions,” a redcoat demanded, as another pointed his rifle.

“I’m Oliver Hart from Philadelphia, come to meet with General Howe.”

“What’s the password?” the sentry asked. “You can’t enter without it.”

“Long live King George,” Hart replied.

The sentry turned to his partner. “Take him to Colonel Duncan.”

“But I’m supposed to see General Howe,” Hart protested.

“We were told to take you to Duncan.”

Hart was led into camp, white tents sprawling along both sides of the road, perched in clearings surrounded by trees. Campfires burned, soldiers sprawling around them. Stacks of rifles, arranged in tripods, were staged and ready for use.

He ignored those who watched as the sentry led him forward. They came to a house near the camp’s perimeter, small but functional, perched between groves of trees, a split rail fence rolling around it. Two soldiers flanked the door.

“Tell Colonel Duncan his visitor has arrived,” the escort said.

Hart dismounted and tethered his horse to a hitching post. He stood there awkwardly, waiting for direction, a dozen soldiers watching him curiously.

A minute later, a man stepped from the cabin. In his forties, his uniform hugging a solid frame, he had the air of an aristocrat, or one who wished that he was. His hair was powdered, a ponytail in the back just above the collar, as was the fashion in both England and the colonies.

“Oliver Hart, of Philadelphia,” Hart said.

The officer nodded. “Colonel Alexander Duncan.”

Hart eyed the colonel warily. As a man whose business spanned the globe, he had the uncanny ability to assess people quickly. His instincts suggested that Duncan was dangerous. And Hart always trusted his instincts.

“Leave us,” Duncan called to the soldiers guarding the cabin, his eyes still trained on Hart. He sat in a high-backed chair on the porch and motioned for Hart to do the same.

Hart sat beside him, glancing at the soldiers still clustered nearby.

“What are your intentions, Mr. Oliver Hart of Philadelphia?” Duncan asked.

Hart paused, collecting his thoughts. “I’ve been communicating with General Howe, through a courier, for the last two months. The general requested my presence.”

“I speak for Howe,” Duncan said curtly. “I may be a colonel, but I should be a general, as any man could attest.”

Hart eyed Duncan cautiously, suspecting an ambition that ability didn’t support. “I have two dozen ships, based in Philadelphia, which travel the world. I hope to ensure the city’s residents are adequately supplied.” He paused, wondering what might motivate Duncan. “An arrangement to benefit all involved.”

“It will, I assure you,” Duncan said. “Although I will direct any business conducted.”

Hart hadn’t expected an ultimatum. He only wanted access for his ships. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Although I had envisioned more of a partnership.”

Duncan eyed him cautiously. “It will be a partnership. But on my terms.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Duncan dictated his expectations for conducting commerce once the British occupied Philadelphia. Hart listened, barely speaking, as his role became apparent. The plan was simple. Hart would do as he was told, nothing more.

“That concludes our discussion, Mr. Hart,” Duncan then said abruptly. “I trust our agreement is satisfactory?”

Hart forced a smile, although he wasn’t quite successful. He nodded and rose from his seat. “Thank you for your time, Colonel.”

“We’ll discuss the details after Philadelphia is occupied,” Duncan said as they stepped from the porch.

Hart paused. “Can you tell me when that might occur?”

Duncan hesitated, wondering whether he could be trusted. “Soon, Mr. Hart, although it depends on the colonial army. Within the next two weeks, I’m sure.”

Hart studied Duncan, a dangerous enemy, a more dangerous friend. “I only want to be prepared.”

Duncan nodded, as if he really didn’t care. “Philadelphia will be taken without a shot fired. I know that, but the residents do not.”

“No, sir, they don’t. None suspect the threat you pose. They have confidence in Washington’s army.”

“Then they’re fools,” Duncan muttered.

They walked to Hart’s horse, ending their brief discussion, when a soldier raced past them. “Who goes there?” he shouted.

Others followed with rifles drawn.

“What is going on?” Duncan demanded.

“Someone watches the camp, sir,” the soldier said.

“Find him and bring him to me,” Duncan ordered.

“He’s in that thicket,” another soldier said. “Circle around the far edge.”

A half dozen men moved to the east, a few more to the west. They tread forward cautiously, surrounding the intruder.

“Come out,” one of the soldiers called. “We’ll shoot if you don’t.”

Hart watched as a man peeked from the shrubs. For a moment, their eyes locked. The man then turned and raced away.

“Ian Blaine,” a surprised Hart stammered as the man fled.

“Who is Ian Blaine?” Duncan demanded.