Cap tugged at the collar of his shirt. “By God, if ever there was a court that ought to have been shot, it was that one, starting with the president of it—Colonel Poor of New Hampshire!”

“What’s that got to do with Wynkoop?” Hawley asked.

“It’s got this to do with it!” Cap said. “Gates dissolved the court, it being made up of old women; and if he’d done what he ought to done, he’d ’a’ set ’em to sewing shirts and breeches for the fleet! Then, on account of Arnold having done all the work on the fleet, and being the only officer fit to sail it and fight it, Gates put Arnold in command of everything. He made Arnold admiral of the fleet, but he neglected to explain it to Wynkoop so’s Wynkoop could understand it. The only way to make Wynkoop understand an order he don’t want to understand is to open up his skull with a splitting wedge, and pound in the order with a sledge-hammer. So Wynkoop, he just didn’t pay no attention to Arnold. Seems as though he figured the Wynkoop family owned Lake Champlain, and nobody else had no business giving orders on it. So when Arnold sent two schooners down the lake on a scout, Wynkoop lays the Royal Savage broadside to ’em and fires on ’em for sailing without his orders. Fires on his own ships!”

“Oh, here! Here!” Hawley said. “You don’t expect us to believe that!”

“Listen,” Cap said, “maybe you’ll believe it when I tell you Arnold climbed aboard the Royal Savage and cussed Wynkoop for ten minutes without taking breath; then put him under arrest and sent him back to Gates, to be tied up where he couldn’t interfere with the war! This Wynkoop is a pig-nut—a Dutch pig-nut, twice as bad as an ordinary pig-nut. Brown and Easton and Hazen and Bedel: they’re all pig-nuts: all rind and nothing inside; but the nothing that’s inside Wynkoop is solider than what’s inside Easton and Brown.”

“Easton and Brown!” Nathaniel exclaimed incredulously.

“Poop-heads!” Cap said quickly. “Poop-heads, pure and simple! Best specimens of poop-heads you’ll find anywhere, outside of Dutch ones. Dutch poop-heads are biggest and best, of course.”

“Why,” Nathaniel protested, “I heard—–”

I interrupted him, knowing he had heard lying praise of Easton and Brown, and heard it from Marie de Sabrevois. “Nathaniel,” I said sharply, “pack your belongings. The Royal Savage is flagship of the fleet, and if Captain Hawley’ll take you, you’ll be more helpful with him than here.”

“Take him!” Hawley exclaimed. “You bet I’ll take him!”

Nathaniel looked stubborn and I saw I must use strategy.

To Cap Huff I said quickly, “You told us the fleet was sailing for St. John’s in a few days?”