Chapter 12 Cold Iron

For or a few moments the others stood stunned, seeming unable to follow my advice. That was not surprising. Ever since our arrival in Canada we had felt secure. Almost bumping into old Fonda in Albany had been enough of a shock for me. I felt panic stricken at finding the bad penny in Quebec!

“We'd better make ourselves scarce, as Ned suggests,” Cade declared once he had recovered his balance.

Papa was not so easily intimidated. “Even if he should recognize me, what harm can he do me here?”

Unlike Cade and me, Sam was thirsting for blood. “You should lay a complaint before a magistrate, Papa. He had you jailed for being loyal to the King. And here he is, come to make money in a province that belongs to that King. He deserves to be cooling his heels in a deep dark dungeon.

Papa shook his head. “What's to be gained from revenge, Sam? We'll sell the raft, and as soon as we've demolished it we'll get seats on the earliest stage available.”

“While we're here we should stay together,” Cade suggested. “There's safety in numbers. I don't think any of us should wander off on our own.”

“That's right. We'll stick to you like glue, Papa,” Sam added.

“I think we should let the Sherwoods know what's happened,” said I.

“Now, let's not burden anyone else with our problem,” Papa asserted. “We can look after ourselves. But I do want a word with Captain Sherwood. That's simple good manners.

Ashore we hopped, and walked along the wharf towards our friends. We had to pass close to Captain Fonda's raft, but he took no notice of us. Perhaps Papa was right and we had nothing to worry about. Captain Sherwood was speaking with a naval officer, but he excused himself when he saw us. As he drew near Elizabeth, she tried to curtsy and blushed. My old clothes embarrassed her under these circumstances.

Reuben eyed my sister admiringly. “Miss Seaman. You certainly look better in those breeches than Ned ever did.”

Samuel Sherwood started to laugh, but he stopped and shifted his feet. Papa did not look perturbed, but the rest of us must have.

“Is something amiss?” Captain Sherwood enquired.

“Probably not,” Papa replied. Then he explained about Captain Fonda.

Captain Sherwood looked grave. “We'd best stick together.”

“Surely he wouldn't dare try anything here,” Papa protested.

“Please don't take any chances, Mr. Seaman,” the other cautioned Papa. “That man Fonda has some real ruffians in his crew. Don't go anywhere alone, and all of you stay out of dark laneways.”

“At the London Coffee house we should ask for a room on an upper floor,” Sam added. “To make it harder to break in.”

“A wise move,” Captain Sherwood agreed. “Now, let's find the timber merchants. I've already sold my raft. I suggest, as soon as you've sold yours, that you hire horses and ride for Montreal. My crew can demolish your raft for you.”

“Thank you, captain, but no,” Papa said firmly. “I can not impose on you. But if Mr. Fonda is still here when we've taken the raft apart, we'll leave on the first stage we can get.”

“That's your decision, but I fear you are taking a risk,” the captain said, shaking his head.

We trailed the men towards the London Coffee House. I must have looked scared to death, for Reuben felt he had to comfort me. “Don't worry, Ned. Between us we're more than a match for those roughnecks.”

“And Pa's a magistrate,” Samuel Sherwood added.

“He has no authority in Quebec,” Reuben reminded his cousin. “But he'll make a fine witness if there's any trouble.”

At the inn we took a room on the second floor, and decided Elizabeth should share it, rather than be in one with other women. Then the prudent Captain Sherwood had their belongings moved into the room next to ours. Once we were settled, Papa and the captain headed for the taproom to seek out the merchants. The rest of us followed, except Elizabeth, who went into a parlour for ladies. For some time the men haggled over prices. Then Papa and the captain rose to escort one of the merchants to inspect our logs. That was when the axe fell. Captain Fonda was blocking the doorway from the taproom, the faces of his crew behind him.

“So! Caleb Seaman, we meet again!” he exclaimed.

The poisonous Fonda marched into the room, face straight ahead, but he brushed against Papa, murmuring “I'll get you yet!”

“Remember where you are, sir,” Papa retorted calmly.

Captain Sherwood was anything but calm. Impulsively he grabbed Fonda's arm and thrust his face close to the villain's. “If you harm a hair of Mr. Seaman's head, sir, I'll see you keep a date with our hangman!”

“That ought to scare him off,” Papa said as we continued our progress towards our raft. Beside him the timber merchant was looking perplexed.

“I still wish you would hire horses and leave before nightfall,” Captain Sherwood repeated. “Darkness will be the dangerous time.”

“No,” Papa repeated in turn. “I will not leave my work to anyone else. That would be shirking.” In spite of Captain Sherwood's urging, Papa stayed cool. I began to feel better.

“Papa can easily whip old Fonda if it comes to a fight,” Sam bragged.

Captain Sherwood glared at him. “Young idiot,” he scolded. “So could I, but I don't think that's what the rogue has in mind.”

“I'm sorry, sir, I don't understand.” Sam said, flustered.

“Cold iron!” The captain uttered the words in a chilling tone. Then he again voiced his earlier warning. “Avoid dark places, all of you for fear of a knife in the back!”

Very troubled, we supped together and hung about the taproom that evening. At a small table Papa and Captain Sherwood talked softly. Samuel and I kept Elizabeth company in the ladies' parlour. We longed to take a walk but we knew better than to try it. Now that the Sherwoods had allied themselves with us, Samuel was not safe outside either. Any of us would make a fine hostage to lure Papa from the inn. When I grew sleepy I slipped into the taproom to see if the men were ready to retire. I saw Captain Sherwood go to the bar where the landlord was serving and proffer a coin. They whispered together for a moment, then I followed our friend to the table where Papa was sitting.

“Lock your door and bar it,” he said. “Fonda and his crew have a room on the ground floor. We're sharing the very roof over our heads with those devils.”

About ten o'clock the five us of retired to our room, bolting the door as Captain Sherwood advised. Lacking a bar, Sam and I wedged a chair under the latch. Papa and I occupied one bed, Sam and Cade another. The landlord had set up a camp bed in a corner for Elizabeth and hung a curtain before it to give her privacy. On the raft we had slept in our clothes, but now we changed into nightgowns. We should have been ready for a sound sleep after camping in the cold air, but I felt wide awake. For some time I lay staring into the darkness about me, listening for regular breathing that would tell me the others were asleep. Papa tossed and turned beside me, and my brothers and Elizabeth seemed restless, too, Then I must have dozed off.

Something made me open my eyes. The casement windows were gaping wide. When we went to bed they had been closed. I felt, rather than saw, the intruder. An object flashed. It could only be one thing.

“Knife!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help!”

Papa shot from beneath the covers. Figures swirled about the room. I yelled, Cade yelled, Sam yelled, Elizabeth's higher-pitched voice rang out. Someone was pounding on the door, demanding entry. I ran, kicked the chair aside and drew the bolt. A shaft of light fell over the scene. Papa was sitting firmly astride the shoulders of a prone stranger, Sam on his legs, Cade grasping one of his arms, a shuddering Elizabeth the other.

Captain Sherwood, fully clad, strode into the room, the landlord bearing the lamp pressing against him, chattering wildly. Samuel, Reuben and Scipio, in nightgowns, were right behind him. Other guests, roused by the commotion, were crowding in from the corridor. The knife lay a few paces from where Papa had his quarry pinned down. The captain picked the weapon up.

“Attempted murder,” he said grimly. “Fetch a constable at once!”

The landlord left to do his bidding. Scipio ran to the Sherwoods' room and returned with a length of rope and another lamp. After lighting ours, Papa bound the prisoner's hands, sat him on a chair and lashed his legs to a rung with a belt. Next, Captain Sherwood seized a lamp and ordered us to follow him. Leaving Papa and Scipio to guard the prisoner, and Elizabeth with them, Samuel, Reuben, Cade, Sam and I ran downstairs.

The captain halted at the room he knew Captain Fonda occupied and kicked in the door. The room had two beds in it. Fonda and two other men lay, feigning slumber. A crumpled pillow hinted that a fourth person had also begun the night there. Aided by other guests we marched the three culprits to our room, and remained until the landlord returned with the constable.

“Place these men under arrest,” Captain Sherwood ordered, his voice taut.

A fierce argument ensued. Fonda and the two brought from his room pretended they had no knowledge of the attack. The bound captive remained mute, refusing to admit he knew Fonda. The landlord, however, identified him as the fourth occupant of the ground floor room. But the constable was not convinced he should act.

“I have no proof that these three were a party to the attack,” he said.

Captain Sherwood kept demanding that all four be locked up. Papa, shaken by the brazenness of the assault, was agreeing with him. Still the constable declined to budge.

At last the captain stormed,” If you won't arrest the others we can't stay here the rest of the night. Everyone get dressed as quickly as you can. We're going with the constable. As soon as the prisoner is secure, we'll find a safe place to stay till morning.”

Elizabeth retired behind her curtain. The rest of us grabbed our clothes and went to the Sherwoods' room to change. Once we were ready we left the London Coffee House in a body, Captain Sherwood and Papa on either side of the prisoner. The constable led the way up the stairway to the Upper Town. We came to a halt at the Dauphin Jail, a fortresslike building. Papa had Cade wait outside with Elizabeth, and the rest of us entered a square lobby. A barred door ahead led to a corridor lined with cells. A stench I vividly recalled wafted from there.

I soon discovered Captain Sherwood's reason for escorting the culprit to jail. He wanted to try again to persuade the constable to arrest the other three as well. After the constable unbound the prisoner, our friend pushed the wretch onto a stool and stood over him. The captain looked menacing enough to make anyone talk, thought I.

“Who paid you to enter the Seamans' room?” he demanded.

The man glared up at him but remained silent. Captain Sherwood grabbed one of his arms and threatened to twist it backwards.

“You cowardly ruffian! What's your name” the captain thundered.

“Josh Putnam,” the prisoner whispered.

“That's better! Now, who paid you to attack Mr. Seaman?” As the prisoner only shook his head, the captain continued. “Was it Mr. Fonda? “Putnam nodded, ever so slightly, yielding his information with utmost reluctance.

“How much did he offer you. Answer, you idiot. You're in serious trouble. Why put a hangman's noose around your neck for another man's crime?”

“Ten dollars,” the prisoner's voice was barely audible

Captain Sherwood let go Putnam's arm and stood erect. “And how did you know which person in that room was Mr. Seaman?”

His reply shocked us beyond belief, for he muttered, “Mr. Fonda said it didn't matter which throat I slit as long as I got one of ‘em.”

At that I paled, and so did Sam. Papa was speechless, eyeing Captain Sherwood with respect. “I should have taken your offer and left on hired horses,” he murmured, when he found his voice.

The captain shook his head. “No one's been hurt, and now we've the proof we need. Let's see this knight of the blade safely behind bars and get the other three.”

The constable still objected. “It's only his word against Mr. Fonda's.

“Oh, but I'm a witness to another piece of evidence,” the captain retorted, his patience worn thin. “I overheard Mr. Fonda threaten Mr. Seaman. Is that sufficient?”

“Why didn't you say so in the first place?” Now the constable had lost patience. “I'll call upon some soldiers and arrest them at once. Turnkey!” he shouted up a winding staircase at one side.

He shouted again, and received a whine in reply. A crump backed giant clumped down the steps, complaining at being disturbed. He selected a key from the bunch at at his waist, and took charge of the prisoner. Then we left the jail, and joined by Cade and Elizabeth, hurried to the barracks on Buade Street. With a party of Royal Fusiliers led by a corporal, we returned to the London Coffee House.

“I'll wager the birds have flown,” Papa said. “They must know Putnam would be made to talk.”

Chin jutting, Captain Sherwood snapped, “If they have we'll go after them.”

Captain Fonda proved to be stupider than Papa expected. The constable broke open the already damaged door where we had found him earlier. There he was, sitting up in bed, looking sheepish. Much embarrassed, he and his two companions had to remove their nightgowns and dress while everyone but Elizabeth looked on. My sister had stayed in the corridor when the rest of us burst into the villain's room. I felt most gratified when the constable locked all three men in irons. Still sharp in my memory was the sight of Papa in irons outside our house in Schenectady the day old Fonda had him arrested.

At last it's safe for us to retire,” Papa said wearily.

“Mind you guard them well,” Captain Sherwood warned the soldiers. “If even one of them escapes, you'll all be court martialled.”

“No fear, sir,” the corporal in charge of the soldiers said stoutly. “They'll stand before the magistrate tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. Make sure you're on time to give evidence.”

Back in our room we could not settle down. The shock of all that had taken place was too great. We huddled together on the bed Papa and I had shared, blankets round our shoulders, talking softly until the sun was up. When we heard stirrings in the next room we dressed and went in quest of breakfast. The Sherwoods soon joined us. Samuel's eyes looked as heavy as mine felt.

“Were you able to get any sleep?” I asked him.

“Reuben and I didn't,” he replied. “Nor Scipio, but Pa did. He hadn't closed his eyes before the trouble started, nor undressed. Once he knew the villains were behind bars he slept like a baby.”

Captain Sherwood pulled out his watch. “Just gone eight,” he noted. “Plenty of time. We must call upon the chief justice, the Honourable Mr. William Smith, before we see the magistrate.”

Papa looked surprised. “My complaint seems trivial for the chief justice. Will he receive me?”

“Of course he will,” Captain Sherwood spoke with conviction. “I've known him for years. And murder is never trivial. Fonda's behaviour was a scandal for a guest in our country. Mr. Smith is a Loyalist, too, with bitter memories. I know that he'll welcome an opportunity to show these Americans that they can not do what they like in Canada!”

Everyone hiked to the Upper Town once more, and we went for a walk while Papa and Captain Sherwood were closeted with the chief justice in his tall stone house. Shortly before ten, we met the men outside the courtroom next to the jail. As we entered I noticed that Captain Sherwood had a sealed letter which he kept tapping against his front teeth.

Papa explained to Elizabeth and me where everyone would sit. The dock for the prisoners was a small gallery at the rear. In the front of the chamber was a carved wooden railing with a large table behind it surrounded by cushioned arm chairs. There the magistrates sat. For the coming hearing only one magistrate would preside. If this judge decided that Captain Fonda and his fellow plotters should be tried, they would be held for the next meeting of the Court of Quarter Sessions in January. At such sessions six magistrates had to be present. Between the railing and the dock were benches for spectators.

In spite of the corporal's orders for us to be on time, we had to wait. Other cases came before our charge was dealt with. Most were for petty offences. The magistrate was looking as though he would rather be somewhere else before our turn came. Then much foot scraping in the dock announced the arrival of Fonda and the others.

“The charge?” the magistrate enquired.

“Attempted murder of myself or one of my four children, Your Honour,” Papa said in a voice that carried throughout the room.

“Your name, sir?”

“Caleb Seaman, Your Honour.”

“Of what place?”

Before Papa could reply, Captain Sherwood was at his side. “Excuse me, Your Honour, it would be dangerous to reveal that information in the presence of the accused.”

“Your name?” the magistrate asked, frowning at the interruption.

“Sherwood, Your Honour. Captain Justus Sherwood, and I have a letter for you from the Honourable Mr. Smith.”

The magistrate extended a hand. While he broke the seal and read, I stole a glance at Captain Fonda. Never had I beheld a man so altered so quickly. His face was ashen, his hands trembled. Well, it was only justice after what he had done to us, and planned to do. I felt nothing but contempt for him. Like other bullies I had known, he was a coward underneath.

“A serious matter,” the magistrate said. “But I'm reluctant to order a trial when no real harm has been done.”

“Your Honour,” Captain Sherwood protested hotly. “Mr. Fonda's a treacherous poltroon. He conspired to kill innocent boys, or, far worse, an innocent young girl. And Mr. Putnam agreed to carry out murder for a paltry sum. Not only that, the other two were a party to the foul deed and did nothing to stop it.”

The magistrate looked irked by the second interruption. “I'm well aware of that. Please be quiet. Rest assured the safety of Mr. Seaman and his children is of utmost importance. I intend to follow the Honourable Mr. Smith's advice.”

“I apologize, Your Honour,” Captain Sherwood said, gently.

“Mr. Fonda, who plotted murder, and Mr. Putnam, who was caught in the act, are the real culprits,” the magistrate resumed. “The other two will be escorted to the border and never permitted to return. Bail for Messers Fonda and Putnam is set at one thousand pounds each.”

Captain Fonda was too outraged to remain silent. “Your Honour, I can't raise such a sum, not in Canada anyway!”

“That's why I set it so high,” snapped the magistrate. “I want you held till the court meets in January. But there won't be a trial. You will then be escorted to the border. If either of you sets foot in this province again, you will be tried for attempted murder, and most likely hanged. Does that satisfy you, Mr. Sherwood?”

“Yes, thank you, Your Honour.”

“Acts like a zealous-pated lawyer,” I overheard the magistrate mutter before he called the next case.

We watched as Fonda and Putnam, both pale and shaking, were led from the dock. One of the others still had some fight left in him for he glared at us. “This won't be your country for long,” he called. “The United States'll annex it any time we like!”

“Silence!” thundered the magistrate. “Or I'll cite you for contempt of the majesty of the law!”

“Now to work,” Papa said as we left the courtroom. “The sooner we take the raft apart the sooner we can leave for Montreal.”