Resurrection: Rebirth of the United States

[Stuyvesant]

Only the king of fools would take his case.

It would anger Thomas Jefferson.

It could ruin Edward Rutledge.

He grinned. Convincing the Massachusetts Legislature would take about five minutes.

It's entertainining to see how the chance of humiliating Rutledge and antagonizing seems to sway Adams more than the more noble idea of saving the Republic.

What's that saying again. the Personal is Political?

Regardless of their motivations, it's good to see a coalition of sorts come together.

 

[unmerged(28944)]

Having done a lot of studies on John Adams, I do believe that Waymouth way have just unleashed an avalanche that is going to end up accomplishing just what Tom needs to have accomplished.

Now, what sort of wonderful by products Cat has this avalanche cause, that's going to be even more entertaining by far!


Glad to have you back, Cat!

 

[unmerged(24320)]

CatKnight: ...Waymouth waved his hand. "You miss my point." ... "Then make it!"

YES ! ! United We Stand ! !

magnificent update! !


Draco Rexus: ...Glad to have you back, Cat!

AMEN ! !

 

[CatKnight]

Fulcrumvale: Hm...lost isn't good. Though, truth be told it was so long since I updated I'm a little lost too.

J. Passepartout: I think you'll be pleased. At the least, with the Vermont rebellion..taken care of...it's unlikely they'll gain independence any tme soon.

Vann the Red: Someday!

dublish: Yes, I was wondering just what needed to happen for Congress to be able to help Tom. Well...they needed to federalize. Wait a minute, Adams was a federalist. I can use that.

coz1: You're right...IF they can break through whatever Jefferson's telling himself that got him here in the first place. It's human nature not to want to yield power, but Jefferson seems a bit more idealistic - if he can be convinced what he's doing isn't helping the nation, then your idea works.

Stuyvesant: I've noticed my politics (and politicians) seem to be more personal than you might otherwise expect. I wonder if it's a character flaw

Draco Rexus: Having Adams on Tom's side is major - I don't KNOW if it'll be enough alone, but Adams is a good enough orator, and stubborn enough to make people listen to him.

GhostWriter: Thanks

 

[CatKnight]

-= 161 =-​

New Hampshire
July 1784


Must meet. Take the Worcester packet. Will join you enroute. - Waymouth

"This had better be important," Jonathan Andrews, a/k/a Major John Andre of His Majesty's Foreign Office, muttered. He sat in the 'Hungry Wlak' at dawn on a grey, rainy day savoring a glass of beer.

It'd been a long time since remnants of the Green Mountain Boys avenged their fallen leader by nearly beating him to death, a long time since anyone could point to him as anything other than a loyal American and the senior Congressional delegate from New Hampshire in the bargain. Therefore he suspected no trap, though he did constantly survey the cobblestone road for trouble. Congress lately had more intrigue than...well, anything he could imagine. He hoped Parliament wasn't like this! A secret meeting meant nothing, and while Worcester was a strange place to travel it happened to be on the way to Philadelphia. No one would think anything of it.

The carriage appeared pulled by two brown horses who nickered and pranced impatiently in the rain. The teamster hauled on his reins one more time and they quieted. His companion, a surly man making no effort to conceal the pistol under his cape, stood:

"Worcester packet! Rise and shine! Rouse and bit!"

The Wlak's master, a short pudgy fellow, rushed out of the kitchen holding a sack. "There is no need to shout!"

"You have mail or not?"

"What..? Yes." He passed up the sack. "You'll wake my guests with your caterwauling!"

The driver noticed Andre emerge into the cool rain: "Can I help you, friend?"

"I seek passage." The spy handed him a small pouch. Surly snatched it away, looked inside and nodded.

"You can put any bags on top," said the driver.

Andre obeyed, and having paid his tab to the nervous 'keep entered the carriage. He wasn't alone...

"Make way! Clear the road!" screamed Surly, an unnecessary precaution as they were the only ones about.

The other passenger, Andre noted, was perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair tied in a queue. Thin, his face marked as if by fire. He dressed as a civilian, but something in his stiff bearing and reserved nod screamed military. His eyes - Andre didn't like his eyes, a little too wild. No doubt he'd been in one too many battles.

"I'm Jonathan Andrews," he told the stranger politely.

No reply, just another nod then he resumed staring out the window. A few years ago he might have resented this incivility, but Andre appreciated silence, and anyway he didn't really want to know this man more than necessary.

Towards midmorning they stopped in Concord, Massachusetts and picked up another passenger: This, a tall, large, one-armed army officer.

"Good morrow, sirs!" he told them cheerfully. For a moment the puzzle of boarding with one arm seemed to stump him - whoever made the carriage didn't believe in steps. Andre reached out his hand. The newcomer's smile faded. "No sir, if you please!" He latched onto the top of the carriage with his good hand and literally threw himself into the cramped confines, crashing into the stranger who whirled. "I beg your pardon!"

Something passed between the pair - recognition? Andre felt uneasy and introduced himself.

"My name is Harding," replied the one-armed soldier. "Late of the Army." He turned to the stranger, apparently expecting an introduction.

"Make way!" screamed the surly one, and again they were off.

"Forgive me for asking," the stranger said finally, turning: "but does your arm trouble you much?"

Andre's eyes widened at such a direct question. He hoped he wouldn't have to defend the cripple.

"Not anymore," Harding answered brightly, apparently not noticing or ignoring any affront. "It was during the war."

"The British one, I assume?"

Andre nodded in agreement. Yes, he knew several valuable men on both sides who'd paid for that mess. He could take some pleasure in helping to stop...

"No, sir! The Vermont campaign."

The spy chilled. "You fought...it was General Stark leading the rebels, wasn't it?"

"Yes!" Harding smiled. "You are quite knowledgeable, sir!"

"I heard.." He shrugged. No reason not to tell them. "I heard while in Congress. I represent New Hampshire."

"Do you?" asked the stranger, in a tone that indicated he knew this perfectly well. Andre began to smell trouble.

Harding continued: "Yes, I was supposed to spy on them but I suppose I wasn't very good. They chased me all the way to Fort Ticonderoga."

The slight emphasis confirmed Andre's suspicions. He considered: One arm wouldn't be a problem, though he looked strong. The other..an unknown quantity. He'd have to deal with him first. "You're from Vermont?" he asked casually to buy himself time.

"Eh?" Harding laughed. "Newport, Rhode Island!"

"And you?" he asked the stranger.

"I've never been to Vermont." He sounded bored, though his gaze still unsettled. Could he be mistaken?

Could he take the risk?

"Driver! I'd like to get out!" he called.

"Is something wrong?" Harding asked, puzzled. "We're miles from Lynn."

"Yes, Mister Andrews," added the stranger. "You wouldn't want to draw attention to yourself."

"Driver!"

"He's not stopping," Harding said after a moment.

"No," said the other. "They've been told there are bandits on this road. They won't stop until we see civilization. You did notice the man with the pistol?"

Andre leapt for the door. The stranger pounced, bring them both down. The spy twisted under him and received a vicious slap for his efforts.

A slap? He paused.

"Are you done?" The stranger released his collar, but didn't get up. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be gone."

Andre rubbed his cheek and jaw: Nothing broken, just warm. "What do you want?"

"You're going to help me."

"To what? Free Vermont? That's what Allen wanted, and I told him what I'll tell you!"

"I don't give a rat's ass about Vermont," he hissed. "Nor does he." He jerked his head at the one-armed officer.

Harding's youthful enthusiasm vanished, replaced by a cold glare: "They cost me my arm. I owe them nothing."

"Who are you?"

"I am General Thomas Heyward," said the stranger. "And you're going to help me save this country. We might even manage to do Britain a favor in the bargain."

"You know who I am?"

Heyward nodded and resumed his seat, still watching the spy. "Captain Harding, why don't you tell Major Andre here about Ticonderoga?"

 

[unmerged(24320)]

CatKnight: ...Heyward nodded and resumed his seat, still watching the spy. "Captain Harding, why don't you tell Major Andre here about Ticonderoga?"

oh ooo, someone stepped into a big pile of brown stuff. i can smell it. it is horrible! !

how little does Major Andre know how much helping General Heyward will help England ! ! but then, same applies to Captain Harding! !

magnificent update! !

 

[coz1]

Excellent way to reintroduce Heyward into the mix again. I truly had no idea until just before he revealed himself. Well done.

And the description of Harding was very vivid. Great to see another update, CatKnight!

 

[unmerged(59737)]

"I am General Thomas Heyward," said the stranger. "And you're going to help me save this country. We might even manage to do Britain a favor in the bargain."

"You know who I am?"

Heyward nodded and resumed his seat, still watching the spy. "Captain Harding, why don't you tell Major Andre here about Ticonderoga?"

Damn...that's a nice ending of an update. One of the best I've seen.

 

[J. Passepartout]

Excellent way to reintroduce Heyward into the mix again. I truly had no idea until just before he revealed himself. Well done.

And the description of Harding was very vivid. Great to see another update, CatKnight!

I guessed it was Heyward, but only because I figured we were only allowed on of the four men to be unimportant, and he was up front. Otherwise there were not clues until we were told that I'm aware of.

Ticonderoga has a good view over Lake Champlain, good to keep those Vermonters in line.

 

[unmerged(24320)]

CatKnight: ...The other passenger, Andre noted, was perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair tied in a queue. Thin, his face marked as if by fire. He dressed as a civilian, but something in his stiff bearing and reserved nod screamed military....

Excellent way to reintroduce Heyward into the mix again. I truly had no idea until just before he revealed himself. Well done.

And the description of Harding was very vivid. Great to see another update, CatKnight!

I guessed it was Heyward, but only because I figured we were only allowed one of the four men to be unimportant, and he was up front. Otherwise there were no clues until we were told that I'm aware of...

for some reason, i picked up that it was Heyward with the "..perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair tied in a queue. Thin" part of the passage. what is somewhat funny is that i missed the rest of that passage referring to face, dress, and military. although i did pick them up in the first re-read.

and, agreed ! !, awesomely "Well done." ! !

 

[J. Passepartout]

CatKnight: ...The other passenger, Andre noted, was perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair tied in a queue. Thin, his face marked as if by fire. He dressed as a civilian, but something in his stiff bearing and reserved nod screamed military....



for some reason, i picked up that it was Heyward with the "..perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair tied in a queue. Thin" part of the passage. what is somewhat funny is that i missed the rest of that passage referring to face, dress, and military. although i did pick them up in the first re-read.

and, agreed ! !, awesomely "Well done." ! !

Yeah, that was right about where I decided to take a guess at who it was.

 

[Vann the Red]

Top notch post, CK. Looking forward to the next.

Vann

 

[dublish]

Great post! I wonder how long they'll be able to hold Andre's identity as blackmail. His usefulness to the King has effectively ended...

I have to admit that I've gotten a little lost... Have we met Harding before? How does everybody know who Andre really is? I may have to go back a dozen pages or so and read through again.

 

[unmerged(24320)]

dublish: ... Have we met Harding before?

IIRC, Harding was in the original upstate New York raid...

 

[unmerged(28944)]

Nicely played, Cat, nicely played!

Very nice update, I'm liking how old friends are being brought back into the story arc to be of assistance. I'm eager to see how things move forward. To steal a line from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's beloved Holmes, "The game's afoot!"

 

[Stuyvesant]

Well, well. Harding lives. I thought for sure he had died, the last time we saw him. Back when that Vermonter scum was hunting him down and had a gun to his head. Oh well, I seem to inaccurately predict characters' demise more often (see: Director's Draper in 'Frontier'), so it's just another notch on my belt.

I arrived late to the party, so the replies from other readers had already made me aware that Harding and Heyward were trapping John Andre. So I can't say when I would have suspected the identity of either of them, although I will go out on a limb and guess that I would have picked up on Heyward. Andre's observation of the fire in his eyes was quite revealing.

I enjoyed the way the scene was constructed, how you slowly cranked up Andre's feeling that something was amiss, until finally he smelled a rat and made his abortive run for freedom. To some extent, it seemed like Heyward and Harding were playing with Andre, allowing him to get very uncomfortable before they slammed the trap shut.

I expect that Heyward is going to try to convince Andre that it is in both Britain's and the United States' interest to strengthen the Federal government versus the Carolinas. With the leverage he has over Andre, it shouldn't be a hard sell.

 

[Archaalen]

I'm still backreading, and have been for quite some time (I'm on page 41 just now), but I felt the need to mention that, as a Vermonter (that is the term, for those who were asking), I have found the Vermont storyline enthralling. If you were wondering, Vermonters date their own republic as existing starting in 1777, though no one recognized us. Here's a link to one version of our Constitution, of which Vermont wrote the first in North America, and which includes clauses outlawing slavery and martial law. I hope you all find it interesting: http://www.usconstitution.net/vtconst.html
Also, all of the ridiculousness with the cows aside, cattle were not a major product of Vermont until much later (late 19th/early 20th century). At this time, lumber was our major product, coupled with shipping going from the Saint Lawrence through Lake Champlain to points south. There was nowhere for the cows to graze, Vermont was still too full of trees. By the way, to all New Yorkers: Why would you want Vermont anyway? You only visit here because it's "quaint", and if you owned it you'd certainly put a stop to that. Isn't it better to leave things as they are so during the summer you can visit Burlington and leave your money behind when you leave?

EDIT: By the way, I have always hated the way that Vermont is done on the EU map. Megantic makes more sense for representing Vermont, since its got what I assume is Lake Champlain next to it.

2nd EDIT: I'm all caught up now! I'm interested to see where this goes, but it will make me very sad if Vermont doesn't get statehood at some point.

 

[J. Passepartout]

By the way, to all New Yorkers: Why would you want Vermont anyway? You only visit here because it's "quaint", and if you owned it you'd certainly put a stop to that. Isn't it better to leave things as they are so during the summer you can visit Burlington and leave your money behind when you leave?

I believe you are making the assumption that I am from New York City. Don't worry, everyone from outside New York (EVERYONE!!! ARGH!!! ) makes that mistake. And if I am misinterpreting what you are saying, than no harm done.

 

[CatKnight]

GhostWriter: Thanks! Yes, if Andre was told the whole story (and could be made to believe it) he'd definitely help for England's sake. As it is, a little more persuasion is needed.

coz1: Thanks! As others noted, I did leave a few subtle clues about Heyward: Military bearing, wild eyes, etc. Usually when we see Tom, it's through his eyes: I wanted to show how he looks to others.

Fulcrumvale: Thanks!

J. Passepartout: Now that's not nice. How do you know 'Surly' wasn't important??

GhostWriter: Good guess with only '35, brown hair and thin!'

J. Passepartout: Well done then.

Vann the Red: Here it comes!

dublish: You're about to find out how they know about Andre. Harding was first introduced on page TWO as a bit character (one of several who's taken on a life of their own.) We last see him on pages 40-41 (updates 129-133).

GhostWriter: Yep, that was the first time we met him!

Draco Rexus: Well, the game's a foot but where it'll end no one knows. Including me :wacko:

Stuyvesant: For a long time I wasn't sure whether Harding made it or not. I'd left myself an out: The 'trumpets' Harding heard were actually American cavalry, but I've already all-but-resurrected a few people and it's a bad habit for an author to get into. On the other hand, Harding allowed me to close the Vermont storyline and expose Andre too neatly to be ignored.

Archaalen: Welcome! First and foremost, I personally like Vermont. There was a time I thought of moving to Burlington, but the idea of a VT winter is too intimidating.

The Constitution you shared with us is the modern one. If you look in the first paragraph you'll see a link to the 1777 Vermont constitution, which is in many ways identical. Incidentally, it's not the first...not even close. Connecticut calls itself the Constitution State, having had a charter since 1682 and hid it from the Brits in 1688. Virginia also claims to be first and has a point. If we're only counting non-colonial documents, Delaware stepped up to the plate in 1776. Still, it was the first constitution specifically banning servitude and slavery and also guaranteeing many other important rights.

I see you've caught up now. I don't count anything out, as this AAR's surprised me many times before, but Vermont's probably resting for now. I don't expect this AAR to run til 1791, so it may not make statehood before the end. I don't know though, a lot can still happen.

Oh, and I agree on the map. I think I've complained early on this thread that EU2's vanilla map is ridiculous for doing a US AAR.

J. Passepartout: There's a part of New York outside of the city? :RUNS:

 

[CatKnight]

-= 162 =-​

Fort Ticonderoga, New York
March 1784


Something metallic clicked behind Wesley Harding's head. The weight on the back of his neck shifted, pushing him further into the snow covered earth.

"For my brother," someone hissed.

Harding tried to rise, found he couldn't. Tried to speak and couldn't find the breath. Somewhere he heard trumpets. The angels were coming. Thank God, there'd been days he'd wondered...

An explosion, louder than a cannon, shattered the forest. The figure poised over him jerked and fell with a thump. What was this? Harding greedily gulped in the cold winter's air, grateful for the moment's respite. He could only see shadows, dark grey on light flitting in the trees. Someone swore viciously near him. More explosions and cries. Christ, the angels and demons were fighting over him! He heard metal on metal, St. Michael's sword on claw.

Someone grabbed him. Oh, hell no! Harding swung, backhanding the demon as it spun him around. He smelled sulphur.

It ignored the attack and forced his arm down. "Medic!" it bawled. "Wash, hold him just so!"

He couldn't feel his arm, no longer cared, and fell into a dizzying, warm darkness.

-----*

"Pulse is thready. I don't like the looks of him."

"Likewise," Harding said, or thought he said. _______ demons could leave him if they didn't like it.

"...can't get his fever down....arm will have to go. We have no choice."

No choice. Wesley could relate: The day he'd signed up for the Rhode Island militia, so many years ago...how many years? ten? twenty? a hundred? Father thought it'd be good for him, teach him about the world. Maybe get you in some shape! he'd laughed. What was so bad about being big anyway? Momma certainly didn't think anything was amiss. How she'd cried... How many times had he seen her since? Not enough, not nearly...

"It's just delirium, sir. Quite normal in these cases."

"It won't do any harm to play it safe."

Safety. Was he safe? Wesley doubted it. He had the occasional sense that ... something was wrong. Something important. He had to say something, to warn... but no one listened. No one could hear him. Something about mean people. Rebels. Yes, green rebels. Little, short green leprechauns dancing through clovers guarding their pots of gold from... someone. Someone who rode a great pale white horse. Death, wearing an American uniform. How quaint. Who designed those things anyway? Always too tight in the collar and too short in the sleeve, as if he hadn't lost enough weight fighting for those buggers who even now couldn't defend themselves from...

"The rebels are attacking Fort Ticonderoga!" Harding bolted upright and looked around the darkened room. One man, head bandaged, fast asleep. Several empty cots. Thunder rolled outside... no, cannonfire.

A nurse rushed over, slim with long blond hair and sad brown eyes. "We know," she told him softly. "They crossed Lake Champlain yesterday."

"I'm too late?" Harding groaned and fell back.

"No," she smiled. "Major Prescott took your warning seriously. They won't get in."

Only then did he feel a curious discomfort from his right arm: not quite pain, but odd nonetheless. He looked down.

"Oh my God!"

"Cornet Harding, stay calm."

"Oh my God!"

"Cornet!" She pushed him down. "You're alright!"

"Alright?" He waved the stump. "What the devil do you mean alright!?"

The patient with the head wound groaned.

"You're safe."

"You call this safe?" he bellowed.

"I call it alive, which is better than three others can say today!" He stilled and the nurse released him. "Your arm was infected. If we didn't remove it, you'd have died."

He rolled his eyes upward and stared at the ceiling. "What am I going to tell my family?"

She smiled. "That you're coming home."

-----*

Harding didn't get out of bed that day, nor the next. His arm hurt, which seemed decidedly unfair as it wasn't even there. Occasionally he'd reach over to grip it and only find empty space. Four more men found their way to the infirmary, carried in by tired, determined comrades. Two left with sheets over their heads. Wesley didn't pay attention. He had a lot to think about, and found himself ill equipped to do so...at least his mind didn't choose to play along, but kept wandering back to happier days.

What kind of life could a one-armed cripple have anyway? He couldn't ride any but the most tame horse. He'd have to learn to write all over again. Couldn't carry anything worth a damn. He'd seen a one-armed man once in Boston, a victim of the French and Indian War, living on whatever charity he could muster. Was this his fate?

"Cornet Harding?" A tall man entered on a day when the cannoneers seemed to be resting. He had a medium build, long brown hair, angry eyes and the uniform of an American general. "How are you, son?"

"Sir!" Harding straightened and tried to salute, probably the most useless gesture of his life.

Benedict Arnold leaned down and shook his left hand. "At ease, Cornet." He looked around. "Are they treating you well in here?"

"Prime, sir."

"Good. Why don't you get dressed? There's someone who wants to meet you."

A short time later he led the young man through the narrow halls of the fort. Arnold spoke: "Major Prescott, the fort commander, received your warning."

"Warning?" Harding shook his head. "I don't remember."

"No, I suppose not." The general stopped at a wood door. "Nonetheless, he took you seriously and because of that we still hold the fort. He recalled all requests for leave and doubled the watch, so he was ready when the rebels tried to take the walls. General Stark made a few more sallies, but once my men caught up it was a done deal." He knocked.

"Enter!"

Arnold opened the door, revealing a small room. A bed sat at one corner, perfectly kept. A writing desk with chair lined one wall, while another chair stood next to a small bookcase. John Stark was tall, a muscular man in his fifties. He stood and regarded Harding coldly.

"General Stark has given his parole," Arnold said. "Nonetheless, I will have someone stay with you if you like."

"I'll be fine," Wesley replied, heart racing. What was this about?

The door closed. Stark clasped his hands behind him. "So, this is the boy who's destroyed Vermont."

"And you would be the traitor," Harding replied simply. He sat in the spare chair without asking, rubbing at his stump.

"No, sir," Stark growled. "No, I have ever fought for the freedom and liberty of my people. I smoked you out the day we met, you know. My only regret is I didn't have time to convince you of your error."

"If you brought me here to trade politics, I'm not interested." Harding rose.

"No." Stark waved him down and sat. "No, there is another matter between us. I thought of telling Arnold, but..." He leaned back. "You now carry the burden of Vermont's affairs, It's your decision what to do with this."

Harding closed his eyes. He wasn't interested. "What?"

"Do you know why we rose up? No? Fools like Arnold think it was because Congress killed poor Allen. That's true enough, but what you don't know is why Allen had to die. He'd uncovered a traitor in Congress. Allen's mistake was in trying to use that information to gain recognition rather than expose him right away."

"If you knew of a traitor, why didn't you say something?"

"Why should I? America killed my leader and my friend. I owe you bastards nothing." Stark grunted. "He was your general's friend too, but Benedict always was an uptight..." He let the thought die.

"Why tell me?" He yawned.

Stark shrugged. "As I said, Vermont's affairs are now yours. There's no one else to take the banner. What you do with the information is your business, but you owe us."

"I owe you!?" That caught Harding's attention. He surged to his feet. "*I* owe *you?* You arrogant son of a bitch! I owe you nothing! You owe me an arm and a life!"

"You knew the risks when you became Arnold's little weasel!" Stark shot back. "What did you expect? We would just let you betray us to your masters?"

"And what did you expect, that we'd just stand by while you betrayed everything we fought for? Christ! If you'd been patient, maybe Congress would have come around in a few years. I don't know, but now we'll never find out! They'll never give in to rebels. I didn't kill Vermont, you did!" He turned and wrenched open the door.

"Harding? I'm not through with you!"

"I'll find your traitor myself!" He stormed out and slammed the door.


Massachusetts
July 1784


"Why didn't you go to General Arnold?" Heyward asked, who was only hearing parts of this for the first time.

Wesley shrugged. "I couldn't be sure Stark wasn't making it up. I knew how to find out though."

"Waymouth?" Andre asked.

"Right. Captain Waymouth trained me, and when he found out I'd been injured he offered to let me stay until I healed and could go home. Your speech to Congress about Ethan Allen threatening you told us who Stark meant. After that it was only a matter of time before he found vouchers through various businesses leading back to the British government. One had your true name on it."

Andre looked back and forth. He couldn't meet Heyward's eyes, and during his tale Harding moved closer to the door. "So what now?"

"As I said," Heyward replied, "now you help me. In return, I see no reason for this to come out. As near as I can tell you've done no lasting harm, though you will 'retire' once I'm through."

The carriage slowed. Harding moved aside as the door opened, and Waymouth slipped in. He looked back and forth questioningly.

"We've briefed him on the situation," Heyward reported.

"Good!" He sat next to Andre companionably. "Then we can discuss tactics!"