Hawkwood sensed that a question was expected. It seemed churlish to disappoint.

“Fulton didn’t build this boat?”

“He did not. She’s the captain’s own, born and bred.”

“Captain Winans?”

“Yes, sir. He and his brother. They started out as ship’s carpenters. They worked for Fulton when he built the Clermont. Served their apprenticeship, you might say. From that, they were able to set up their own yard.” Renner waved a hand towards the Vermont side of the lake. “She was launched at Burlington, back in ’09. That’s when they set up the Whitehall to St Johns ferry route, to link the gap between the Montreal to St Johns stage and the Whitehall to Troy run. That was before the war, of course; before she was commandeered. In those days, all we carried were civilians and the odd item of freight. Now it’s corporals and commissary and whatever else the army wants us to deliver.”

As he spoke, Renner jerked his chin towards the steamboat’s bow.

Hawkwood looked. It had been dark and foggy when he and Lawrence had been helped aboard, cold and dripping and thankful to be alive. Neither of them had been in a fit state to take an inventory of the tarpaulin-covered objects taking up most of the deck space forward of the steamboat’s smokestack and boiler well. Now, with the view transformed by daylight, some of the Vermont’s cargo was revealed.

To a civilian, the items would have been of no interest. Hawkwood’s familiarity with army ordnance, however, gave him a different perspective. His experienced eye could detect the shape of artillery pieces even when they were broken into components and partially covered over. As far as he could tell from the barrel sizes, they weren’t large calibre. Six-pounders, at a guess; each one maybe two thousand pounds dead weight. The rest of the goods stacked closely either side of them could have consisted of anything from rifles to roundshot or even a regimental goat, it was impossible to tell. But the guns stood out.

“Seems a bit late in the season to be transporting field guns,” Hawkwood ventured. “I’d have thought everything would have been secured in winter quarters by now.”

“You’d know more about that than me, Captain.” As he spoke, Renner looked off towards the surrounding forestland. “All I can tell you is it’s a good job we’ve a plentiful supply of fuel on the doorstep, the number of trips we’ve been making back and forth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said …”

Renner paused abruptly. As Hawkwood and Lawrence waited expectantly he offered an embarrassed smile. “My apologies. Far be it from me to question the general’s strategy. I mean no offence.”