EVERY MESS WAS standing room only, every speaker seethed with anger. The Eagle crew were pressed in against those from Boston and Newport, ginger Joseph Toker Johnson leading the attack.
‘We got to forget the way it’s been here,’ he said, glancing around him, checking faces, looking for and receiving confirmation that he was speaking for them. ‘Forget the order, forget the rules. S’all changed. We don’t get paid, they don’t sleep. We make their lives hell. Every chance we get. Shout somethin’, throw somethin’, curse, spit – whatever.’
Roche pushed his way through to the front.
‘And we tell the English that when we’ll be goin’ home – though the good Lord knows when that’ll be – they’ll still be fightin’. Fightin’ without end. That Napoleon will battle ’em for years. And when they’re gettin’ shot at by the Frenchies, their wives and daughters’ll be spreadin’ their legs for every Tom and Dick that passes their English hovel.’
Ribald cheers greeted this, and Toker Johnson pushed himself back in, unwilling to relinquish the mess. ‘If we push ’em enough, they’ll break. Today was proof o’ that.’
Robert Goffe and Jon Lord exchanged nervous glances.
‘And then what?’ called Goffe, and all heads turned to him. ‘Once they’ve broken – then what? Are you volunteerin’ to stand in front o’ the English guns? ’Cos when they’ve shot you, how’s that get the rest of us out o’ here?’
‘Damn right about that!’ came a voice. ‘These English are bastards, but I’ll be damned if they kill me just as the war is finished.’
Lord wiped his face with his hands then raised his hand to speak. ‘How much money’ve we got?’ He cleared his throat and spoke louder. ‘If we all put all our wages and prize money together, what’d it make?’
Rose, the ex-president of Seven, still in his long brown coat, laughed. ‘You proposin’ we bribe our way out? All eight hundred of us? Your brain has rotted, man …’
Roche wasn’t impressed either. ‘You’re a good man, Lord, and we’ve survived a lot together, you an’ I. But I’ll be damned if any o’ these red-coated sons of bitches take my money. I’m not payin’ no toll to walk through them gates.’
‘You wanna fight instead?’ asked Goffe.
‘Damn right. What’s the other side o’ this block? A large British wall. And what’s the other side o’ that? A large British armoury.’
There was a silence after that. ‘What you suggestin’, Roche? Armed rebellion?’ Lord sounded incredulous.
Roche tugged at his beard, smoothing it between his fingers. ‘I call it a patriotic revolt. I dunno where you were in ’76, but seems to me that the Revolutionary War ain’t over just yet.’