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By Root 1274 0

But Cornwallis did not dwell on the mud and the stark skeletons of trees, the dreariness of winter in New Jersey. His mind was on Jemima, imagining the sight of her waiting on the wharf, standing alone, as though he was the only passenger on the ship, just husband and wife, coming together after the torment of the months of separation. He thought of his walk down the plank, maintaining his decorum, teasing her, seeming to search the wharf for someone else, all the while watching her, until finally she scolded him, Charles! Pay attention! It was their private argument, and there was no hostility to it, just the tease, when his mind would drift away to some other place, or the writing of some letter that was not for her. Charles! What of me? And he would pretend to go on with his work, wait for her to move closer, trying to distract him, and he would suddenly drop the pen, push the papers away, wrap his arms around her thin frame, bathe himself in her perfume.

Even when the children came, they had their privacy, and neither of them would allow parenthood to prevent their playfulness. He thought of her laughter, like soft music, her beautiful voice, those eyes, that beautiful face.

The image faded, his thoughts jolted by the sounds of the horse, the sight of his aide. He knew that Howe expected him for lunch, a tradition now, and Cornwallis felt a dull sickness in his stomach, could not think of food. His aide dismounted, said nothing, the message known to both of them already. Cornwallis could see the man’s anguish, said, “Yes, yes, Colonel, do not be so troubled. I’m coming. I do not wish to keep General Howe waiting.” The man seemed relieved, and Cornwallis moved past him, climbed on the horse, slapped the reins. The streets were crowded with Hessians, formations of sharp blue, polished helmets in long straight rows. They stepped aside with precision, their officer stiffly at attention as he passed, and he nodded to the man, habit now.

As he approached Howe’s headquarters, he could not avoid looking out toward a wide field, out behind a row of houses. He had seen it first from the window of Howe’s headquarters, something Howe himself had not noticed. Cornwallis had pointed it out, and Howe had dismissed his suggestion with a brief shrug of his thick shoulders, and so Cornwallis would not mention it again. But each time he rode by the field, he stared out at this place, the sawmill, row upon row of cut timbers, a vast field of the raw materials they could have used to build boats.

He rode up slowly to Howe’s headquarters, stepped down heavily off the horse, adjusted his coat over the discomfort in his stomach. There was music coming from inside, some kind of odd Hessian horn, the irregular beats of a large drum. A guard held the door open for him, and he stepped inside, was jolted by the smell, something hard and pungent. The table was piled with large platters of fat tubes, some gray, some red, some seemingly no color at all. The men saw him now, calls of good cheer, some in broken English, and he stepped forward, put on his best effort at a smile.

Howe was at the head of the table, said aloud, “Welcome, General! We have a surprise today! Colonel Rall has insisted that his camp prepare our lunch. It seems that we are in a part of the colonies where some of his people have settled.”

Rall stood now, an older, frail man, with a stiff, unsmiling formality, and Cornwallis said, “Well, Colonel, thank you for your kindness.”

Rall looked to the side, an aide whispering to him, and Cornwallis thought, Of course, the good colonel speaks no English at all. He was familiar with Rall’s aide, a friendly young lieutenant named Piel. Piel motioned to a chair, said, “General, if you please. We have procured some of the finest luxuries of our own country from the farms around Trenton. It has given our soldiers much joy. Please.”

Piel was still pointing to the chair, and Cornwallis sat, the smell numbing him. He stared at the massive platters, could not help the thought: It appears to be one very large intestine. He still had the smile,