The Bastard: The Kent Family Chronicles by John Jakes

Author:John Jakes [Jakes, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781453263211
Amazon: B008E6KV42
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2012-07-10T04:00:00+00:00

iv

What began as a short stay at the tavern on the corner of Salutation Alley and Ship Street lengthened into a week. Then into another. As Philip’s natural strength gradually overcame the feverish illness, he sought every possible means to make himself indispensable to the landlord.

He hammered up plank siding to repair the outbuilding where tipsy guests sometimes slept off their revels before tottering home to their wives. He clambered over the roof to nail new shingles onto the Salutation itself, Campbell having idly remarked that during heavy storms, water dripped from the beams near the taproom hearth.

Campbell obviously liked the young man’s eager industry. But what held Philip at the Salutation with Campbell’s unspoken consent was not merely finding a temporary haven, important as that was. What held him was a realization that had come to him when he woke the first morning after his arrival.

The seedy, palsied fellow glimpsed in company with Will Molineaux bore the name Adams.

He’d inquired about the man when Campbell had a moment’s leisure. He was told the gentleman’s first name was Samuel. So it was the same radical politician whom Mr. Fox had described at Tonbridge and Lord North had scorned at Kentland!

At first, Philip could hardly believe that such a frail, badly dressed person could be a serious threat to George III—let alone the fomenter of rebellion.

On the other hand, he supposed it took neither good looks nor rich apparel to produce a temperament opposed to royal tyranny. Perhaps the requirements were just the opposite: ugliness and poverty. In any case, the frequent visits of Mr. Samuel Adams and like-minded men to the private room at the Salutation fired Philip with curiosity and a determination to get into that room at the first possible chance. So he searched for ways to keep himself busy, reported failure to Campbell after his occasional expeditions to look for work elsewhere—no lies required there—and awaited his opportunity.

It came one afternoon during Philip’s third week on the premises. Embarrassed, Campbell confronted his helper with the news that he could think of no other work that needed doing. The opening gambit to politely asking him to move on?

Instead, Philip immediately suggested, “You could let me serve the gentlemen who meet in back, sir.”

“What?”

“I can be trusted to say nothing about what I hear. And I want very much to meet Mr. Adams.”

“For what reason?”

Aware of how incredible it would sound, Philip still brazened ahead: “The Prime Minister of England once told me I behaved like one of his pupils.”

Polishing a tankard, Campbell gaped. “The Prime—?” He guffawed. “Oh, you had an audience with him, did you?”

“No, sir, a chance encounter. At my father’s home in England.”

Campbell squinted at him in the buttery yellow sunshine falling through the leaded windows. “You speak good English, Philip. I think I recognize some French overtones too. But I still find it hard to believe that a lad who arrived penniless in Boston could have encountered that sow-faced North.”

“But I did, Mr. Campbell.”

“Where

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