Cleave America, Patriot Flames 1774: The Fate of the Brigantine Peggy Stewart and Those Whose Lives She Touched

By Dan E. Hobbs

The year 1774 was a sea of turbulence in America. The brigantine Peggy Stewart sailed in this sea laden with a cargo of unbridled hatred and undying love. The tides of social change ebbed and flowed while the winds of newfound faith pushed those who had to cleave unto this ship to uncertain destinies. At a critical time for those touched by the Peggy Stewart, a simple message of faith reached across the Atlantic to transform despair into hope. Cleave is a word in English that though spelled the same has diametrically opposite meanings. The definitions of the word cleave found in modern dictionaries validates that it is indeed contradictory: cleave--to divide or cleave--to cling. This word is an apt description of today's American society. Ask almost anyone today about the political mood of the United States, and they will begin to describe how America is deeply divided United States. Many believe we have unreconcilable differences as never seen before. This novel seeks to contest this belief and to tell an old American story when our political cleave, a division, led to dreadful violence, right or wrong, but ultimately to a cleave, a clinging together and eventually the birth of a United States of America. What is often lost to most in a simple narrative of pre-Revolutionary history is the turmoil up and down the Atlantic Coast preceding and following the Tea Party in Boston. Our ship, the brigantine Peggy Stewart, sailed into infamy in this 1774 sea of turmoil on American land. Ordinary folks like you and I--farmers, merchants, seamen, and labors--were pulled and pushed by the tides and winds of social change. So we were then, so we are today. Are you aboard?2

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685704872

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Cleave America, Patriot Flames 1774

The Fate of the Brigantine Peggy Stewart and Those Whose Lives She Touched

Dan E. Hobbs

ISBN 978-1-68570-486-5 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68570-488-9 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-68570-487-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Dan E. Hobbs

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Cover painting Brig in a Breeze off a Harbor (circa 1790–1810) by Samuel Atkins provided by the Mariners’ Museum and Park, Newport News, Virginia.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

The Places and People of Patriot Flames, 1774

Country Folk (Late Winter 1774)

Chapter 1

The Cleft, March 1774

Chapter 2

Fathers

Chapter 3

Sons

City Folk (Early Spring 1774)

Chapter 4

Anthony and Peggy

Chapter 5

Annapolis

Chapter 6

Brother's Treasure

Torn Asunder (Summer 1774)

Chapter 7

Consider Boston

Chapter 8

The Divided Kingdom, Summer 1774

Chapter 9

Irish Storm

Chapter 10

Philly Heat

Brewing Tea (Autumn 1774)

Chapter 11

Deadly Harvest

Chapter 12

Ship Ahoy

Chapter 13

Moonlit Ride

Chapter 14

Burning Desires

Chapter 15

Love's Cleave

Epilogue

Author's Notes

Acknowledgments

About the Author

To Daniel, Nathaniel, and Samuel.

May the wisdom of past generations help to guide your endeavors.

Collection of the Maryland State Archives

Prologue

The year 1774 was a sea of turbulence in America. The brigantine Peggy Stewart sailed in this sea laden with a cargo of unbridled hatred and undying love. The tides of social change ebbed and flowed while the winds of newfound faith pushed those who had to cleave unto this ship to uncertain destinies. At a critical time for those touched by the Peggy Stewart , a simple message of faith reached across the Atlantic to transform despair into hope.

Cleave is a curious word. It is one of the few words in English that though spelled the same has diametrically opposite meanings. I conducted an informal survey of the word cleave. I randomly asked people in my social circles, men and women of various backgrounds, what meaning did they attach to the word cleave. In equal proportions, they responded that cleave either means to divide or to cling. It has fallen out of common use in today's English. Perhaps that is because of its double meaning.

The definitions of the word cleave found in modern dictionaries validated the understanding of those I surveyed. It does indeed have contradictory meanings. I believe this word is an apt description of American society. We cleave to each other united by our beloved Constitution and the cherished institutions it established while various forces seek to bitterly cleave us asunder at times.

Ask almost anyone today about the political mood of the United States, and they will begin to describe how America is deeply divided—a deeply divided United States—an oxymoron. There is often a dreadful cleave, an apparent tearing apart in American society. However, an overwhelming majority cleave to her ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Many, perhaps most, believe we have unreconcilable differences as never seen before. This novel seeks to contest this belief and to tell an old American story when our political cleave, a division, led to unthinkable violence, right or wrong, but ultimately to a cleave, a clinging together of the colonies and, eventually, the birth of a new nation, a United States of America.

By the mid-eighteenth century, the Eastern Seaboard of North America, dominated by the British Crown, began to face one political and social crisis after another. The United Kingdom engaged in wars around the globe. In North America, the British Crown fought predominately with the French and their Native American allies in what they then called the Western region. Global warfare had drained the British treasury.

The British citizens in North America believed that the Crown was harassing their colonies with taxation in an unjust effort to recover economically from the seven years of war with the French. Each time parliament unilaterally implemented a colonial tax, the colonies pushed back, and the tax was modified or repealed. This circle of taxation and colonial indignation finally boiled over, inciting acts of violence. The most notable occurred December 16, 1773, seven months after Britain passed the Tea Act. That winter night in Boston harbor, Bostonians, dressed as Native Americans and spurred on by the Sons of Liberty, surreptitiously boarded tea-loaded ships and destroyed the tea by throwing it into the salty water below. Every school child knows this story as the Boston Tea Party.

What is often lost to most in a simple narrative of pre-Revolutionary history is the turmoil up and down the Atlantic Coast preceding and following the party in Boston. There were many acts by the colonist against their British governors, some noteworthy, others not. The Tea Party did not culminate the acts that preceded 1776, but such bold rebellion did gain the focus, attention, and ire of the Crown. Continuing anti-Crown acts in Boston and in other areas after December's raid drove parliament to punitive political action. The British believed this punishment would teach the colonist a lesson and allow loyalist thinking to prevail, restoring discipline and order to their colonies. This was a historically monumental misstep triggering the exact opposite effect and escalating turmoil.

Our ship, the brigantine Peggy Stewart, sailed into infamy in this 1774 sea of turmoil on American land. Ordinary folks like you and I—farmers, merchants, seamen, and laborers—were pulled and pushed by the tides and winds of social change. So we were then; so we are today. Are you aboard?

The Places and People of Patriot Flames, 1774

Annapolis (aka Providence in earlier years)—Historical

The Cleft—Fictional, based loosely on Braddock's Trail that became the Old National Pike (Circa 1806)

St. Anne Anglican Church—Historical, twice replaced with a new building

Elkridge Landing—Historical

London Towne—Historical (now spelled differently), just across the South River from historical Annapolis and beautifully recreated in eighteenth-century fashion

Lancelot Jacques Store—Historical

Reynolds, Middleton's, and Doll and the Spinning Wheel Taverns—Historical; however, their interior atmosphere and food quality is fictional.

The Brigantine Peggy Stewart—Historical; three-year-old, two-mast ship capable of carrying 160 tons primarily owned by the James Dick and Stewart Company and crewed by

Ship's master Richard Jackson (nickname Captain Jack)—Historical, age 53, Brigantine Peggy Stewart's master, tall and powerful and an able-bodied seaman, careful in commanding his ship, not a risk-taker, serious and respected by his crews, apolitical and wants only to earn enough to pay off his mortgage and land to retire from a sea life

First mate Caleb Whips (Mr. Whips, nickname Whips)—Fictional, age 45, first voyage on the Peggy Stewart.

Second mate (navigation equipment/watch leader/safety officer) Mr. George Peacock—Fictional, close friend and follower of Whips, also his first Peggy voyage.

Bosun/chief engineer Mr. Silas Mack (nickname Mac)—Fictional, serious and efficient, longtime associate and trusted crewmember of Captain Jack.

Medical purser/cook: Mr. George Grim (nickname Reaper)—Fictional, friendly/experienced, new to Peggy's crew but a very close friend of Silas Mack

Cat and Kid—Fictional, teen apprentice cabin boys.

Brigantine Peggy Stewart Irish Indentured Servants:

Killian (Irish meaning: Little Church) Michaels—Fictional, age 25, indentured servant, small in stature but powerfully built, reddish-blonde hair.

Deirdre (Irish meaning: Fear and Sorrow) O'Donnell—Fictional, age 24; originally from Somerset, Wales

Other indentured servants on the Peggy Stewart—Fictional: Ryan, Connor, Dermott Michaels (not related to Killian), Daniel, Oisin, Bridget, Erin, Clare, Annie.

Other ships—The Good Intent and events, historical; the HMS Gaspee and events, historical; The Geddes, historical.

Hobbs Purchase—Historical; a tobacco-and-wheat farm near Sykesville, Maryland, inherited by Leonard from his father, John, in 1768 occupied by

Leonard Hobbs—Historical, age 30, planter, widower with two small children, Hanson and Amelia; highly regarded for his integrity and honesty, but he is stubborn in his ways; committed Anglican

Hamutal (Tallie) Hammond-Hobbs—Historical (unsubstantiated)

Hanson (Hanny) and Amelia (Amy) Hobbs—Historical, Leonard's six-year-old son and four-year-old daughter

Bessie—Fictional but loosely based on historical Black women of Hobbs Regulation.

Nate—Fictional, affectionately called Big Nate as he was once the biggest of several Nates in his early life; senior, elderly enslaved African; never married; he is in his sixties but is uncertain of his actual age

Other enslaved Africans—Fictional, from various African nations, all very young (early teens to twenties). Males: Quash, Cuffee, Mingo, Mustapha, and Sukey; females: Comba and Dibb. They speak only rudimentary English but able to somehow understand and follow Nate's English instructions.

Vulcan—Fictional, Leonard's Irish setter dog with unusually red fur

Flicker—Fictional, Leonard's strong but aging horse, dark brown, with lots of small white flickering spots of fur.

Hobbs Regulation—Historical, a tobacco farm established by John Hobbs circa 1742, occupied by

John Hobbs—Historical, original owner of Hobbs Regulation, very hardworking and stoic, lifelong Anglican, longtime member of Christ Church Queen Caroline Parish, Maryland, where the family owned pew 13

Joseph and Joshua Hobbs—Historical, Captain Thomas's brothers, Leonard's older first cousin and owner of Hobbs Regulation

Elizabeth (Dorsey) Hobbs (Leonard's mother)—Historical, age 58, old for her age, diminutive, kindly woman of strong Christian faith, embraces Strawbridge's teachings

Captain Thomas Hobbs—Historical, age 36, Leonard's first cousin.

Dr. Charles Warfield—Historical, age 23, intelligent and stern, young, medical doctor. He was a leader of the Whig Club at the beginning of the American Revolution. His members wore hats inscribed Liberty and Independence, or the Death in pursuit of it.

Robert Strawbridge—Historical, age 42, tall, slender, just-off-the-boat Irishman, bright-spirited, people-oriented, and compassionate.

Leonard Strawbridge (Len)—Historical, age unknown, Roberts's younger brother who remained in Ireland

The Reverend William Edminston—Historical; age 43, first pastor of Holy Trinity Anglican Chapel of Ease (1771–1775).

Anthony Stewart—Historical, tall, handsome, forty-six years old, generally calm-natured, very wealthy merchant. Owner, with his father-in-law, James Dick, of the brigantine Peggy Stewart.

James Dick—Historical, age 56, the Good 'ol Tory, Anthony's business partner and father-in-law

Mrs. Jean Stewart—Historical, age 30, beautiful young wife of Anthony

Miss Peggy Stewart—Historical, three years old, the daughter of Jean and Anthony and namesake of the ship Peggy Stewart.

Mrs. Rachel Goode (Mrs. Goode)—Fictional, age 26

The Williams and Company (Annapolis/London)—Historical, the Williams Firm, business rivals and part-time partners of Anthony and James Dick. In 1774, Joseph and James Williams were in Annapolis while Thomas Charles Williams was in London.

Matthias Hammond and his mother, Rachel—Wealthy and influential members of Annapolis society, Hamutal Hammond's uncle

Joshua Johnston—Historical, age unknown, was a merchant and partner of the Annapolis firm of Wallace, Davidson & Johnson. Johnson was in London before the Peggy Stewart arrived and recorded her inbound and outbound cargo.

Phyllis Wheatley—Historical, enslaved African author and award-winning poet

Daniel Dulany the Younger—Historical, age 52, aka Antillon and was a Maryland loyalist politician, mayor of Annapolis, and an influential American lawyer in the period immediately before the American Revolution. He engaged in a famous newspaper discussion with Charles Carroll of Carrollton

William Paca—Historical, age 34, thin face, dark and tall, with dark hair and eyes and a very long nose, upbeat personality, brilliant, highly educated, industrious, son of a wealthy American planter, attorney, strong opinions, quick tempered and radical patriot and political leader of the Sons of Liberty in Annapolis, close friend and partner with Samuel Chase, Maryland delegate to the First and Second Continental Congress, signer of the Declaration of Independence

Samuel Chase—Historical, age 33, son of an Anglican pastor, tall, fair, thin, educated at home, very passionate patriot, cofounder of the Annapolis Sons of Liberty with Paca, led opposition to the Stamp Act, antagonist of late Walter Dulany in public press warfare, Maryland delegate to the First and Second Continental Congress, signer of the Declaration of Independence

Charles Carroll of Carrollton—Historical, age 37, aka First Citizen, fair-haired, distinguished, known as wealthiest man in America and an early advocate of independence, possessed the highest formal education of all signers of the Declaration of Independence, delegate to the Continental Congress in 1776.

Mrs. Mary (Molly) Carroll—Historical, wealthy wife of Charles Carroll, socialite but very plain faced

Joe Morgue (nickname Simmons)—Historical (1736–1836), longtime sexton of St. Anne historical church in Annapolis

Annapolis Committee of Correspondence and the Annapolis Convention—Historical. In 1774, the committees of correspondence that had sprung up throughout the colonies were being drawn to the support of Boston as they reacted to the closing of the port and increase of the occupying military force. The first convention lasted four days from June 22 to June 25, 1774. All sixteen counties were represented by a total of ninety-two members including Carroll, Paca, and Chase.

Part 1

Country Folk (Late Winter 1774)

Search men's governing principles, and consider the wise, what they shun and what they cleave to.

—Marcus Aurelius

In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak. In time the flint is pierced with softest shower.

—Thomas Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy, 1589

Chapter 1

The Cleft, March 1774

Leonard stood on the Cleft where his land tapered off in two distinct directions. The Cleft also formed the rolling road that he would soon use to roll the hogsheads filled with last fall's tobacco harvest to the docks at Elkridge Landing for shipment. In the predawn light, Leonard had strolled up the slight incline from his house with his dog, Vulcan, at his heels.

The Cleft ran for miles across his and his neighbor's fields, dividing the land in two gently diverging slopes. This was a fine morning to contemplate this year's plantings in those sloping fields—a fine sunny morning to contemplate life in general and his hope for even brighter days ahead after the long, depressing winter.

A touch of spring was in the air, replacing the lingering winter cold of the past several weeks. Spring, Leonard thought, is a time of hope, a time to look forward beyond yesterday's troubles, a time of newness.

Nonetheless, for Leonard, this morning's unusual mild spring breeze also carried along a tinge of something else—an ever-so-faint tang of apprehension. Leonard knew this morning was a momentary respite from the bitter late-winter weather inevitable before real spring weather subjugated the cold. He breathed in this freshness as he surveyed his fertile fields with satisfaction. Nagging this gratification, behind the purity and beauty of his awaking fields, there lay an uneasiness difficult to pin down. Worry was quietly borrowing itself into his soul, tugging insistently at his heart. The last few summers were cooler. The growing seasons were shorter. Yet these tobacco fields were producing well and earning him profit. It was only six years since Leonard had inherited this land, gaining freedom from his father's heavy-handedness. Each year was a struggle to maintain labor needed to profit and keep his family fed.

Surely this year's harvest that includes much more wheat will be my best yet, he thought. If only I could focus my energy on the crops and not on radical religion or the divisive politics of the colony.

He wished Hamutal, his Tallie, was standing with him. She always loved seeing spring plantings breaking through the ground. She loved the spring flowers and the warming sunshine in a sunrise like today. She was passion and she was warmth, and most of all, she was unbounded love. She was all the love and warmth he ever needed. This thought made Leonard's heart ache. His adored wife was gone nearly two years now, but he could still feel her with him every day, every moment of every day.

Tallie had filled the hole in his longing heart. She had brought laughter and sparkling green eyes. She danced through the day—danced through his day. Her soft-featured beautiful face framed in the darkest black curly hair filled him with sunshine and warmth even on cold winter's days. She gave him strength, and he was strong for her. When he watched her embrace their children, he felt the same tender sensation he did when his mother embraced him those many years ago when he too was a small child.

Before Tallie and after he was too old for a mother's coddling, in the time between childhood and manhood, Leonard remembered that his eyes were not seeking the love all men need. Yes, he noticed pretty girls, but they were a tiny distraction from the adventure he knew was just a little farther along the grassy, sometimes muddy Cleft in a direction that chased the setting sun. No, it wasn't a mother's tender embrace or the attention of a giggling young girl he sought. It was the unknown just over there, just beyond the edge of civilization where his twelve-year-old exploration-longing soul resided in his adolescent days.

Now, as he looked in that same direction, Leonard inwardly smirked at himself and at his young foolishness. As he stood there on this sunny near-spring morning, he could almost hear again those rhythmic boots treading on the trail's packed dirt, raising dust. In his mind, he saw the long columns of soldiers in a steady stream chased by the rising sun. He remembered again how his father angrily screamed at him to get off the road or get run down.

Some now call the Cleft Braddock's Trail. It's the trail from civilization in the east, from Elk Ridge Landing on the Patapsco River to the mountains to the Indian lands with their French brothers. Leonard remembered how he had seen the dazzling General Braddock atop his powerful warhorse and the stately Captain Washington and many, many fearless-looking tall, brave men that day when he was only nine. He remembered just as well the men and horse and wagons that regularly passed by for the next ten years. What he remembered most of all was the general's horse. Leonard learned much later that General Braddock did not live to ride that horse eastward down the Cleft to return to his home and wife.

Soldiers, horses, supply wagons filled with food and weapons heading west, filled with the wounded heading east, and many other facets of the brutality of deadly combat passed by Leonard over the next nine years. Oh, the stories those valiant and sometimes bloodied men told as they returned from the West; and oh, the passions, pain, and suffering they often brought past him on the Cleft. Vicariously living the anguish of countless soldiers crossing through his father's lands on the rolling road during those years, these scenes dosed his adventure fervor and hardened his resolve to seek peace over combat and fight only when threatened with loss of limb or life. While some boys and men in his family reveled in the stories and joined to seek their own exploits, by age 19, Leonard thought of childish adventures no more.

Besides, he realized he wasn't really built for combat operations. He was smaller in size than average and hardly weighed 120 pounds. He was strong and brave and not afraid of a fight, but his cousins often bested him in rough and tumble. He also didn't like mixing with rowdy groups of would-be men because of his small size, his youngish looks. The other boys often called him little Lenny darling and teased him to distraction and tempted him to scuffle with them. He learned to counter them with his wits. He knew he was the most learned of all his age. Leonard had learned to read earlier and better than his peers and sought knowledge and understanding in all disciplines, particularly farming.

He also knew that his father's estate would need his overseeing and steady hand. If Leonard had marched off to adventure in the western lands, who would have kept the numbers, tended the workers, and managed the animals? In the latter days of that war with the French, he felt his father was adrift from the clear course of farming profit. After the French were defeated, his father and mother were increasingly preoccupied with this new religion that brought their neighbors to the house for their so-called classes. They were not paying attention to those little farming details that if left neglected destroy the profit and then the farmstead.

No, Leonard thought again this day. My life is here—it will always stay here. This land split by the Cleft is home. This land and I are one.

Leonard inwardly smiled at those words spoken to no one. Tallie had used words very much like that the day they first met and nearly right on the very spot where he now stood. That was nine years ago, when she was only seventeen and he was nineteen.

He looked eastward at this new thought of her. There she was. He could clearly see her in his mind just as if she was walking toward him this very moment. Leonard's father, John, would often tell the Irish fairytales passed to him by his father. She was just like a mythical leannán sidhe, as his father called them. Tallie seemed to glide toward him on the rolling road almost as if blown by the wind; she was the fairylike seductress, the lenanshee in English, a creature almost impossible to resist.

Her pale, lightly freckled, flawless face was beyond beautiful. Her curly hair flowed everywhere around her in the light-and-warm breeze that day. She was tiny and curvy and every inch a woman even in her young age. She wore a light-green floral-printed linen gown with a green petticoat that flowed as she gracefully strolled. Leonard was spellbound and stood like a statue. She almost danced up to him as if from his dreams, stopped a few feet from him, looked directly into his face, paused for what seemed like countless seconds, then smiled a smile to stop any man's heart.

Leonard was speechless.

Hamutal was not. She said, Oh dear me, brother! I almost ran you down, sir. Beggin' pardon, sir, You stood so perfectly still with your dark clothes that you and the yonder dark-green land looked one. She paused, smiled again, and then laughed her infectious little laugh. Leonard had to laugh with her.

Leonard found his tongue when he realized she was indeed human, not one of the wee folk. I almost thought you an apparition. What brings such a young lass as you to the Cleft?

I am Hamutal Hammond, you servant, sir. I'm visiting my uncle Henry Howard down yonder to help while my aunt is laid low with a little bout of consumption. I'm on my way to the Hobbs Regulation estate where I heard there was Methodist class meetings and wondered if they a let me in for a look. She paused briefly, thoughtfully reflected for a moment, and then asked, Kind sir, do you know these folk and that place?

Thus began a honeyed romance with this lenanshee that early summer day of 1767. The intense love that blossomed that summer lasted almost five rose-scented years that raced relentlessly by.

Motioning her to follow him, Leonard, of course, told her that she was on his way to his father John's home, Hobbs Regulation, and that there was indeed a Methodist class, newly formed, and that his mother who knew the Hammonds well would gladly let her in for any reason but, particularly, for a class meeting. He told her that he was strictly Anglican, that while others in his congregation might not embrace this Methodist thinking and that he did not attend the class because they were mostly women, he, fibbing just a little so as not to put her off, said that he had nothing against the Methodists.

He told her he was too busy keeping the crops and caring for the animals, and that was indeed true. And he said he read of this clever man, Benjamin Franklin, who wrote, Drive thy business, or it will drive thee.

I like such words. I believe Mr. Franklin is right, Leonard said. I also believe in hard work and in finishing what you start and in keeping the books straight and in learning all you can learn.

Walking beside him, pace for pace, Hamutal attentively listened, almost studied him, as he uncharacteristically prattled on. Then Leonard suddenly realized that he was running on at the mouth. He reddened. They were no longer walking but now standing in front of his father's home. Amazed at himself, he couldn't remember how they got there.

He paused awkwardly, wordlessly. Hamutal flashed into a radiant smile—a smile that in the months to come he would recognize as a smile that only his Tallie could produce.

She bowed to Leonard and, looking at the ground, said, Aude, good sir, and thank you for your escort. I am your devoted servant.

He remembered that before he could reply to this elegant salutation or ever blink, she vanished, as fairies do, into his childhood home, filled with his childish memories.

During the next few months, Leonard wasn't sure if Hamutal came to the house for the Methodist classes or to see him, whether she was interested in understanding more of the Methodist faith or understanding more of him? Regardless, he was sure of one thing—he was very interested in her like no other girl ever. He made sure he knew when those classes met. With this certain knowledge, he also made sure he put himself in the path to her destination, whether coming or going, between the Hammonds' and Hobbs Regulation.

By the end of the summer, Tallie, for that became his pet name for her, was lingering longer with him than with the Methodists. When he first christened her Tallie, she was displeased and said she didn't know a girl named Tallie and wasn't sure she would like her. When Leonard explained that Tallie was very much a girl everyone would cherish, particularly him, given its ease of pronunciation, that such a designation was delightful and adorable, that Tallie was the exact opposite of Shorty, and that would charm everyone when they met someone of her stature for the first time, with that, Tallie instantly laughed her singular laugh and said, Yes, yes… Oh, Lenny, I love it now, and then hugged him so tightly that for the first time, this hug became the lingering embrace of lovers.

Suddenly and without warning, she quickly pulled away in a manner that Leonard was sure he had somehow offended her with his tight grasp. Standing only inches apart, she looked at him. He was startled to see her eyes filled with tears—sweet, happy tears at first that suddenly turned to tears of pain. She shook her head violently and swiftly ran away toward her uncle's house.

Leonard cried out, "Tallie… Tallie! She did not look back but ran on at such a rushed pace Leonard could dare not attempt to match.

Standing on the Cleft with Vulcan this beautiful morning, now seven years later, he remembered the pain of that day—the intense feeling of desertion and undiluted confusion. He thought then that nothing could ever bring such pain as that ever again. He now knew how wrong—very, very wrong he was.

He was in ruins that day that Tallie ran off in tears. He was secretly heartsick. His mother, Elizabeth, looked at him with worried, questioning eyes; his father was angry with him because harvest time was fast approaching. He knew Leonard was the only one who could rally the labor into action. Leonard didn't eat. He aimlessly wandered about the fields like one sightless. When darkness fell, no sleep came, and he tossed and turned, unable to center his thoughts. The same questions came over and over again—why did she hug me so, look so filled with joy, then look so struck with pain, and why did she run? Why did she run? Why, why, why?

Leonard was up well before the sun and on the Cleft, walking mindlessly east toward the brightening sky. It had rained a little during the night. He had heard the tapping on the rooftop only a few feet above his second-floor bedroom. Now the late summer air was cooler and smelled of the delicious scent of fresh wet leaves and grass. Though many years have come and gone since that fateful morning, Leonard still loved that smell. To him, it is perfume and always makes him think of her.

He continued a slow stroll east, not knowing what he should do. Then as the sun just peeped above the distant tree that morning, casting colossal shadows, something caught his despondent eyes. He thought he saw someone moving in his direction—someone small was walking very slowly, very deliberately, toward him on the Cleft. Was it her? Could it be her? His heart raced.

No, he thought. His lenanshee never walks somberly along; she dances everywhere she goes. The sun rose to full morning light, and this person was now a half furlong closer, a small female looking his way. She stopped and stood still as a statue. A sudden light breeze fluttered her long black hair, and Leonard knew with instant certainty that this was Tallie. He quickened his pace, at first walking fast then a trot and a full sprint toward her. As he approached to ten yards, she opened her arms wide. He raced to her with such force that he knocked her off her feet, but he caught her. They gently crumbled to the ground.

She chuckled as they fell and whispered, Silly boy, silly boy, silly boy…you make me cry.

Her gentle warmth, faint lavender fragrance mixed with the damp grass, and her clover breath all bathed him to near delirium. This lenanshee had him. She had his heart completely. He was hers, and he knew then, as now these many years later, there could never be anyone else like her for him.

He raised his head to look into those captivating green eyes. She looked directly into his with intense expression of tenderness and love he had never seen before or since. He kissed her; she surrendered.

The intensity grew, and she whispered, Lenny, you shall smother me. Then, Smotherest me unto death, dearest Lenny, and I shall die here where we lay in contentment. My heart is no longer mine, yet I am bewildered.

Bewildered? Leonard questioned. I am wholly yours, dear Tallie. You say you love me. Why bewilderment? Why yesterday's tears of joy and pain? Help me understand!

A slight twinge of frustration crossed her expression. She turned her head to look away. Tears began to flow.

Tallie, Leonard quietly said. Tallie, sweetest, for God's great love, please tell me what so deeply ails you. Why are you so troubled? Please tell me. Are you lost to me?

With these words so sympathetically spoken to her, Hamutal began to sob. Leonard held her.

At last, she spoke between sobs, saying, Oh, Lenny… I leave… I leave tomorrow…for home…for home in Annapolis. I shan't see you again. I fear… I fear you indeed shall be lost to me. Oh, Lenny…how…how can we separate?

Joy mixed with unanticipated anxiety washed over Leonard that day that moment Tallie spoke those words. He often wondered since how those two powerful emotions could coexist, but they did.

Lying there in the tall grass that ran beside the Cleft, holding Tallie in his arms, his lips inches from hers, Leonard said, I've saved a little money. My father is dependent on me, and my future is secure in land and farming. I could easily build a small house for us. Tallie, I love you. I will always love and protect you. I can only be happy if you are my wife. Leonard ended this little speech with, Tallie, my sweet lenanshee who holds my heart in her little perfect fingers, will you be my wife?"

This inquiry was greeted without hesitation by rapid nods, another flood of tears, this time shed above the broadest of beaming Tallie smiles.

Only moments later, she gave him a fleeting kiss as she danced away to the east, saying, Come to my uncle's house for dinner this very evening.

Looking back on this day, Leonard realized that the very moment he spoke those words and received her unforgettable reply, the last ounce of boyishness in his character vanished, replaced entirely by manhood.

Even before this final transition, Leonard considered himself a mature and sober person, not given to fits of anger, childish frivolities, or spendthrift behavior. He credited much of his character to his careful observation of the drama, trauma, and even horror that routinely passed by him on the Cleft during those long years the British and Americans fought the French in the wilderness to the West. He saw life at its bleakest and overexorbitant highest in those soldiers' faces. All too often, he saw bloodied and broken bodies. He was as disciplined by these observations as he was by his father's ardent demands on his labor. He was certain that those around him considered him, though young, clearheaded and temperate and, as he sometimes heard them say, overly serious. He knew this head-over-heels love affair with Hamutal was out of character for him, and he also knew his family would not comprehend his proposal. He was sure they still considered him a boy, and neither his father nor mother would, in any way, condone such an outlandish marriage.

He would need every part of his manliness to stand up to them. Worse, he had no idea what he would face with Tallie's parents. He doubted he had met either one. He could hardly remember meeting her uncle Henry, though he lived only a few furlongs to the east. Had Tallie revealed their relationship to her aunt and uncle? Had they wondered why she was spending so much time with the Methodists? Had she written to her parents? He was sure that any father would overprotect such a fairylike sweetheart. He wondered if he might need to break down her parents' door before they would speak to him. He would likely face the ugly end of a loaded musket before her father uttered his first word.

The scene at home was wholly unanticipated. He carefully unpacked his powder-keg relationship with Hamutal, laid his heart on the keg's lid, lit the fuse with the confession of his proposal, and waited for the expected explosion of angry condemnation.

His father laughed cynically and said, You will get over it boy, hastily brushed by him, and stomped out the door without another word. Leonard turned questioning eyes, blurred slightly with moisture, on his mother. The expression on her face astonished him. She was smiling, and she too had tears in her eyes. She took a step closer, laid her calloused yet feminine hand aside his face and said, I prayed for such Litt'l Lenny. Leonard's knees almost buckled in shock.

Thinking back on it now, he should have anticipated his mother's reaction. He was so braced for expected negative reactions such as his father had just demonstrated that he forgot of his mother's always-encouraging, always-protective kindliness. Looking into her compassionate fifty-one-year-old-face alarmed him, however. She looked much older than her age, worn and tired from the endless toils of farm life and motherhood. Her hair was almost completely grey, but her brown eyes were flawlessly sharp as was her mind.

His mother was always a diminutive, kindly woman with strong Christian faith. She was one of the first to embrace this new Methodist society, and she used her womanly methods to coerce Pa to hold classes at home. Pa was indifferent at first, but he too gradually spent more and more time in the classes, particularly when this horse-riding preacher fellow named Strawbridge came by. Pa's personality softened toward his family and friends a little that year than last year, but his newfound religious interest dumped a lot more work on Leonard. His father was unchanged in berating him into towing the line on farm work from dawn to dusk.

Continuing to surprise Leonard, Elizabeth said, Never mind Pa. He just as stubborn an Irishman that was ever born. I'll bring him round some bit by bit. He is not one to like things changing, and he's not going to like you tightening up with that little sweetheart particularly if it keeps you from his work. You and he are pair of old stockings—just alike and just as stubborn—that's why you're at each other's throats night 'n' day.

His mother paused for a moment then thoughtfully added, What do you suppose Hamutal's folks are thinking?

I never set out for romance with any woman, Mama, Leonard choked out. She caught me with some magical spell, I am sure. Indeed, she seems more fairy than folk when we first met, but I now see her many superior qualities. She is kind and honest and not afraid of work. She is bright, and all can see her beauty inside and out.

He hesitated. After a moment, he said, Yesterday we embraced. He reddened. Then without explanation, she darted off like the wind. My spirit rushed after her, and when I could not catch her, it was dealt an awful blow like none ever before. 'Twas then I knew I loved her dearly—as dearly as you, Mama, but different. When she returned this morning, she confessed her love and that she was leaving soon. She cried. She answered my prayers, Mama. With my whole heart, I asked her to marry me. She agreed and cried even more but different this time—through her beautiful smiling eyes. He lowered his head with this confession. He didn't say anything about the kiss and the two of them huddled in the grass because he knew mothers don't need to know about things like that.

Finally, in a kind of pleading voice, he said, I'm afraid to near frozen what Tallie's folks will think. They must be much better off than we. I doubt they will accept their precious fairy-daughter marrying such a farming man as me.

When he finally stopped to breathe, his mother asked one simple question: Who's Tallie? Leonard reddened.

Elizabeth laughed then said, Son, several weeks ago, your Tallie—Elizabeth smiled—told me she was over the moon with you and begged my help. I know she'll rise to be your helpmate in this farm, might even soften your pigheaded stubbornness a touch. She's a good young dear. She has heart for God too, Litt'l Lenny. That made me adore her that much more.

Elizabeth paused for a moment than added, Don't worry over Hamutal's folks. They're indeed well-off but not uppity. I've known Hamutal's mother and papa for many years and her uncle Henry lifelong. They know and respect your pa and grandpa as hardworking Americans. I'll send a note through the Howards for Hamutal to give to her folks in town.

The day unfolded much better than Leonard could have imagined. His mother, true to her word, spent the afternoon painstakingly crafting a letter to Hamutal's father, Nathaniel Hammond. Her handwriting was careful and exceedingly impeccable. She knew the Hammonds were not common folk, were well educated and wealthy, and she wanted to ensure Leonard was properly introduced. She then accompanied him to the appointed dinner at the Howard estate.

As they approached the house, Leonard saw Mr. Howard standing alone on the walkway leading to the front door. Looking back on this memory, Leonard believed the Mr. Howard looked grim faced and angry. To this day, the thought of that look made his heart race to a gallop. He was sure his fate was sealed; he was sure Tallie's family would ensure these two were never married. He knew then that each step toward the walkway gate brought him closer to total devastation.

Mr. Howard had turned away before they reached the walkway. The metal-hinged gate squawked as they pushed through, causing Mr. Howard to quickly pivot and say, Who goes there? It was only then Leonard realized that the elderly Mr. Howard was nearly blind and couldn't recognize anyone more than ten feet away. He hadn't seen them approaching at all.

Elizabeth quickly called out, Henry, it is Mrs. Hobbs and son Leonard a coming for a visit!

Even before her voice trailed off, Henry's continence dramatically altered into a beaming, welcoming smile, and he thundered, Elizabeth, my dear, and Little Lenny! I'm so very pleased and honored you've both come! And where's John? I would be most anxious to visit with John too. Such excitement…such excitement we have today, haven't we!

For the second time in one day, Leonard recalled, he almost buckled at the knees. His circumstances and emotions instantly flipped from total breathless fear to unmitigated delight. Before he could recover his wits, Tallie came rushing from the front door and into his arms in an embarrassing display of impropriety. Leonard loved it; everyone laughed.

Leonard smiled to himself at that thought and how everything regarding their marriage fell into place from that moment on.

Their wedding that brilliant, sunny day just after Christmas of 1767 in the Hammond home, the very heart of Annapolis, was a grand affair. It has snowed three days prior. Everything was still covered in stunning white. There was a brief prayer meeting at St. Anne Church for the groom and family before they made their way to the ceremony. Mistletoe and holly decorated all the formal areas of the house. The Hammonds radiated class and grandeur into every aspect of their beautiful young daughter's nuptials from dress to desserts. The country folk on Leonard's side, mostly from Elkridge, though slightly coarser perhaps, conducted themselves with utmost propriety—that is up until the reception began. At that point, there were a few somewhat-embarrassing heated exchanges over the politics of the day, particularly the Crown's imposition of various taxes and business policies. The Elkridge folks were inclined to detest British interference in their farming, blaming some of the Annapolis attendees, mostly from the Hammond side, for encouraging such behavior. There were no fights. Stern looks from many wives brought a tenuous peace. In the end, however, and for months afterward, Leonard repeatedly heard people comment to his mother that it was the best of weddings and the most beautiful and dearest of brides anyone had ever seen.

Standing in that splendid field this morning, Leonard recalled that heavenly week when he and his lenanshee disappeared from society. He could not get enough of her. Her surrender was all-embracing as she gave her all to satiate his desires and he hers. They laughed over silly incidents during the wedding, and they ate too much, stayed in bed too long, and wet each other's face with tears of sheer splendidness. He relived that week, moment to moment, sometimes kiss to kiss, often ever since. Now, as he stood there on the Cleft in the morning sunshine, he knew that he could have died satisfied had he died when that week ended.

Leonard remembered how lighthearted and filled with optimism about the future they were as they rode up the Cleft from Elkridge Landing on the horses his Uncle Joe had left them. As they approached the house, however, he remembered how he had begun to feel a sense of uneasiness he could not explain. They indeed returned to a different Hobbs Regulation estate than Leonard had left only ten days prior. The house was silent and eerily dark inside for three in the afternoon though the sun was still weakly shining. Leonard turned to Tallie in bewilderment when she closed the door behind them. She looked back wide-eyed. No one stirred.

Leonard knew something terrible was afoot. There was an odd, alcohol medicine-like smell mixed with a rancid, stale odor unlike anything he could remember. With great trepidation, he croaked out, Ma!

Almost as a specter, his uncle Joseph appeared out of the darkened parlor. He was pale and haggard. He told the young couple that Leonard's mother was upstairs, that she was fine, but that his father had taken a terrible turn. Joseph said that John had begun to act strangely as they were returning from the wedding, mumbling quietly then alternately entering into angry fits. When they got home, John went directly to the barn. Several hours later, Elizabeth went to check on him and found him in a bloody mess at the bottom of the barn ladder. He was convulsing uncontrollably and had bashed his head and broken several bones.

He said that young Charles Warfield, who Leonard knew was studying medicine, came over immediately and said he believed, from what he could tell, that John had a stroke while on the ladder. Warfield said it was hard to tell how bad because of his injuries from the fall but that he thought the stroke was awful bad. Joseph finished by saying that his ma had cleaned him up best she could, and they carried him to bed where he remains.

Ya mama's been by his side ever since, but Pa is slippin' away bit by bit, sometimes in fits but usually quiet as death and unknowin'.

Leonard stood mortally crushed. Tallie pressed herself tenderly to his side.

Minutes later, he crept quietly into his father's room. Elizabeth was kneeling beside his bed very, very softly, singing some ancient hymn in Irish that Leonard didn't recognize. The room was very dark. As his eyes adjusted to his lower light, he began to make out the face that should have been his father. Grief washed over him as he realized his father's face was nearly unrecognizable, distorted, swollen, and ghostly pale. He was sure he was dead. His mother, sensing his presence, turned to him. Tear streams caught the light that filtered dimly through the window, yet she smiled to see her dear Litt'l Lenny standing nearby.

At last, finding his voice, Leonard said, Is he gone, Mama? She shook her head.

She turned back to her husband, saying, Look here, dear, Lenny's home.

Reflecting on that moment, Leonard remembered that his father's breathing quickened at the mention of his name. A minute or two later, he groaned mournfully.

Many moments passed. Then came what Leonard would never forget to his dying days. His father slowly but clearly spoke three words: Love…binds…us.

He never spoke again. He died less than two days later.

Leonard helped as they laid his father in repose in the parlor of Hobbs Regulation that cold winter morning in early January 1768. Word of his death spread though the region as far away as Annapolis town itself. Despite the weather, folks flooded to the estate, sometimes forming a line outside. There came the Ridgelys, the Davises, and the Howards. There were the Barneses, the Shipleys, the Porters and Warfields, and countless other neighbors. From Elkridge came the Hockleys and Dorseys, and from Annapolis came the Hammonds and even the family of the honorable Charles Carroll. To Leonard, those who came to show their respect were the roll call of those shaping the future of Anne Arundel in Lord Baltimore's colony. Each who came read the prophetic words etched into the top of John's coffin: Love Binds Us. Old Father James MacGill, the Anglican pastor of Christ Church, presided over the somber funeral service. Leonard was frequently overcome. He would have never guessed just how influential his father's life was to so many good and noble colonists.

In retrospect of these past six years, Leonard realized now how his father's sudden death, at only fifty-five years old, perceptually changed him and changed his life's circumstances. In a week's time, he had become a husband and a landowner, gaining a sizable portion of his father's land. Moreover, the burden of responsibility now landed with a heavy weight on his shoulders, and he realized that only through his cleverness and back-breaking work would he and Tallie eat. Tallie had changed him from a boy into a man; his father's unanticipated death had changed him from a man into a leader of his little family's lives.

With the gracious help of his neighbors and, of course, the tenacious Tallie, Leonard quickly built a cozy three-room log house with a wide hearth and fireplace, a table and chairs, and two bed frames, one for he and Tallie and the other for guests. In the very early spring, he built two other smaller log cabins, each with their own lower-level fireplaces to cook, for the few enslaved workers that eventually transferred from his father's estate. All this was completed before the tobacco planting swung into dusk-to-day endless labor.

Leonard turned twenty and Hamutal eighteen that spring. Their life started to settle into a routine with Leonard up before dawn only to find Tallie already into her daily chores. Leonard smiled when he remembered that her routine lasted only a few months before her swelling belly begun to slow her down a little at first and much more as the summer sped along. It seemed to him that by mid-August, his tiny Tallie had doubled her size but only in girth. She was evermore so much more beautiful and cheerful with each passing day of her condition, he recalled.

As harvest began that year, so harvested Leonard and Hamutal the greatest of all gifts: a strong, healthy baby boy they named Hanson.

There was another winter, another growing season, and a very bountiful harvest—a colder, bitter winter—and in the spring of 1770 a beautiful tiny baby girl they named Amelia. They were blessed, fruitful, and growing in possessions and in numbers. The Christmas holidays that year were the sweetest in all of Leonard's memories. The loveliness of tiny baby Amelia wrapped in his lenanshee's arms, with inquisitive Hanson by his side, all sitting by the warm fireside as the snow piled up outside Christmas Eve brought a tender glow to his heart. His life was full, and so was his purse.

With his family's new prosperity, Leonard began building a brighter future starting with the new year. He added a fourth room and second level to their home. He allowed Bessie, his enslaved African housekeeper, a cabin for herself and