Remittance Man - Cover

Remittance Man

Copyright© 2006 by Howard Faxon

Chapter 4

Drama Sex Story: Chapter 4 - A young Scottish 'laird' fosters and fathers a wild tribe of the native hundred nations.This tale contains crude humor, early American terms for our dark skinned brethren and hopefully an eye into the conditions, behavior and reasoning of our revolutionary war era forefathers. PS Napoleon was here. Watch for quotes. latter chapters rely on generational progression, then shamanism.

Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Tear Jerker   Harem  

--1823--

Brutal cold was that winter. The reports of the trees snapping in the cold kept many awake at night. Our experiments with canvas great-shirts over woolens garments fashioned in the same manner kept us hale. We gained many elders from surrounding tribes that winter. They could not be given the succor of their tribes without causing injury to the children. We were glad to accept them into our fold. Once again, we numbered an elder per longhouse. The children learned the tales of their elders as well as our more conventional education in reading, writing and arithmetic. The singing and chanting of the elders fascinated us. We recorded many of their songs and tales in journals. Their arguing back and forth as to the proper cadence or words to a certain story had us in muted gales of laughter supported by tears of glee. The tongue of the elder becomes naught but sharper throughout the years.

That spring brought many unusual adoptions. Warriors of the Seminole and Crow nations came seeking their sisters. The woman had found succor and joy in our camp. The warriors could not convince their sisters to leave, so the warriors joined their sisters. We could not hence did not demand that they adopt our tribal colors since truly, we had none. In great ceremony the many families dressed and painted on their colors, including the Zulu. We sang and chanted long into the night. I cast forth my best wolf howl into the night. I was delighted to hear my call replied by the warriors of my tribe. My tribe. It tasted glorious to my mouth. I took my brides to our bed that night convinced that we lived in the best of all worlds.

I greeted the morn with a ferocious appetite. After breaking fast on hasty pudding and smoked fish I dressed for the cold and set forth to check the local sets and stands for game. I spent a long, tiring day. When dusk caught up with me I began snatching dry tree roots and forks for a fire while keeping an eye open for a storm-downed tree which took its root-ball with it. I found a maple which had gone down leaving a deep cavity sheltered by the standing roots. Judicious use of a canvas and many small balsam branches brought me a secure, comfortable shelter for the evening. Good fortune and habit favored me for my tinder remained dry, and the candle stub I carried lit my fire. The two hare I had killed provided a sumptuous dinner when seasoned with a pinch of salt. I stoked the fire and half-covered it with dirt, then rested. I woke at nearly four hour increments to re-stoke the fire throughout the night. The silence of the woods heals a man's soul, bringing him closer to his maker and the wonder of the land about him. One finds oneself smiling for no reason but to smile.

A quick cup of hasty pudding over the coals fortified me. I folded my blanket and canvas, then made way for home. I had noted little game yet many large fish in the waters.

My wives welcomed me home in such a fashion as to leave me with aching knees and short of breath, yet I held to my duties and persevered. There were short times that I doubted the wisdom in opening my arms to eight wives yet love divided is love multiplied. Upon a more earthy note, frolicking with a happy wench on each arm in a hot bath is a pleasure to give fond memories to the aged.

The breaking up of the ice was greeted with great favor as our diet had become quite monotonous. A short visit to Port Town, now called New Portsmouth, brought many staples from our factors. Fresh fish was a welcome change in our diet, and a short journey netted us chickens, eggs, sugar and wheat flour. Fresh bread and cookies raised many spirits.

The spring tides brought with them a government cutter representing Jefferson's presidency. I was presented with a weighty packet of papers under seal of the president of the United States. I dared not open it without the presence or approval of my first wife. A conclave of my wives and all classically educated members of my tribe were present when I cut the string.

A cover letter both congratulated me as to my governorship of the Wisconsin Territory and apologized for the tumultuous situation which international diplomacy and left my case, namely deep within the heartland of French interests in the depths of the continent. The French were incensed with the current policies promulgated by the recently enacted treaty with England.

Having dealt with the bewigged parodies of men representing either country I came to an equitable contract. I had runners sent to all tribes about the sweet waters offering a bounty for the ears of either Frenchmen or Englishmen, bounties to be paid from a list of forged goods, brass buckets, woolen goods, canvas or needles. Their wigs needed to be included. In this fashion no self-respecting colonial would be caught.

The next few months brought a frenzy of reimbursement for wigs and ears. Now what the hell was I to do with several hundred pairs of ears? Simple. I had them salted in a barrel and sent them to the president with my compliments.

It would seem that my present rode the mid-line of current congressional furor. One party wished to damn the French while the other wished to damn the English. I damned them both.

Neither party toasted my name yet neither party called for my blood. Any grandfathers whose history was that of a long knife likely laughed themselves to their graves for turning the tricks of the Europeans against themselves. Before fall came upon us the supply dried up.

The war-chiefs continued to learn the ways of their enemies. The twelve tribes took ports and ships as their own. From wives and children adopted into the tribes they learned the skills of the sailor. The first frigate that warped into our port manned by our Indian brothers was manned by Seminole warriors. We feasted them then taught them the art of the cannon.

Once again, the seas were not safe for the English. They were not the first, by any means.

The tribes both up and down the long finger lake joined us in a federation of hostile tribes against the French and English. Our partners crept East and South thru Lake Erie and South to destroy the colonial militia to a man. Soon a nation of equals would form or the white man would be driven off the continent. My regular packets from Washington allowed me to document those of bombastic fury demanding the destruction of the 'red man'. It truly amazes me that fifty pounds gold will buy an uneven duel or an anonymous grave. Many merchants quietly joined our federation, as well as abolitionists and innkeepers. Strong central government would destroy us, hence we opposed it by manner fair and foul. I worked to apply the rules of combat to the political front both before and behind the dock, yet strove to keep a curtain of anonymity between myself and the continental congress. As the governor of the Wisconsin territories I was resolute and polite while as Laird Stuart, chief and war commander of Walks Together, primary amongst the militant tribes of the sweet water confederation I resolved to be bloodthirsty and unyielding until success rendered my enemy naught but depressions in the earth. There would be no mercy, no trial and no forgiveness.

Christmas and the New Year found a heady taste upon the wind.

--1824—

Ice-in found us prepared. Steam houses had proliferated not only throughout our tribe but throughout the confederation. I found our bathing house to be much more habitable with thick windows bringing in sunlight. Five of my eight wives were great with child, including my Katherine. She said naught, yet I often spied her staring out over the water gently rubbing her belly, lost in thought. I knew that she desperately wanted this child to live. There was naught we could do but to keep her well fed. She was healthy and strong, refusing to take to her bed for the last months as English women did. She and my other wives kept each other's company.

I kept to the forge and the glass house for labor. The throwing and pressing of glass plates and goblets consumed my time. Who would have thought that Cherry wood does not leave an ash that interferes with hot glass? Who would have thought that without an annealing furnace all thrown glassware destroys itself from rapid cooling?

Our smithy teams poured many brass goods that winter including a few nice deck guns. Hinges, pipes, wheels and gears took shape. We had the diagrams for creating waterwheels and water-powered machines yet there was not a place with fast water near enough to use.

Still, we persevered.

Clancy built up a four-foot model of a windmill that could pump water or grind grain. I asked for and received a pattern for a hinged collar to connect the pipe sections. With a slight flare cast into the ends of the pipes we could run water great distances. Valves were a more difficult proposition.

The natives were pushing themselves quickly from the late stone age into the bronze age. Copper and tin were traded along streams by canoe and across the great sweet waters by ship. The fashioning of a bellows and refractory clay vessels was all they needed. Our smiths assisted in the fashioning of collared carriers that would allow two men to lift and pour a batch of brass. Some ironwork came across my hands that seemed native made. We fashioned leather polishing wheels of flat and round aspect for finishing steel surfaces. We forged drills and peg plates first to replace our tools, then to trade, to both native and settler.

Several times we found ourselves with uninvited guests—priests, ministers and the like. We sent them away sans bible, shoes or garments. I had vowed not to proselytize to a people with a perfectly good world view. They were happy in their lives. The doctrine of original sin had not occurred to them or been forced upon them. I vowed to maintain this condition. Man should feel repentance for his own actions, not that of some uncontrollable distant forbearer.

Our masons had had a long boring winter with naught to do but sharpen their chisels and assist at the forges. This kept their strength up. I set them a project to be worked upon with a draughtsman—design and build me a square stone keep with a courtyard, all on solid stone footings. How large? Make it generous. How high? Three stories would be impressive. I requested that the first floor incorporate kitchens, workshops, barracks and stables. Heavy stores should not need to be lifted but stored at a low elevation, and ramps included for moving stores between stories with carts or barrows. Windows should face the courtyard, not the surrounding countryside. I requested a roof of slate with leaded seams, as we had used since time immemorial in Scotland. They planned a shell of a building about a handsome courtyard one hundred and twenty long paces across. A spiral was planned for each corner that went from top to bottom. I believe that they wanted something to keep them busy for several years. Much to my dismay they had the foundation for the damned thing in the first year.

A site was selected but three miles South upon the coast, overlooking the water from a small prominence some forty feet above the beach.

They could not find a local source for good stone so bids went out for stone block, a foot by a foot by three to be traded for as well as sheet slate for the roof. Soon vessels arrived with a ballast of stone and left with a ballast of sand. They had two great ovens built into the side of a hill to burn shell and limestone for quicklime to make mortar. Axmen were cutting trees and floating them to us in prodigious numbers to fire the ovens. We cleared new fields and stored wood for the winter as well. Our wootz steel axes lasted well, yet any steel tool will dull eventually. Soon the masons were cutting and facing sandstone grinding wheels as well as working upon their great diversion.

That year the native traders and fishermen learned to fashion great canoes with side-rigged trunks fashioned much as counter-balances against the rough waters of the lakes. Then some genius made them both canoes, doubling their capacity. Finally, I witnessed a great flat deck over two huge logs, a mast over all and guided by a tiller. It had no keel nor ballast and was fashioned of boards pinned together. Speaking to the sailors I heard but one complaint—the mast kept driving thru the decking due to the stress the standing rigging and sail put upon it. I know not whence it came, but the thought occurred to me that a third log beneath the center would support the mast in an admirable fashion. Once I conveyed this to them a furious labor began to attempt to implement this idea. We found that a hole drilled thru the center log provided a better axis to control the rudder as well. It was fascinating. The thing flew thru the water. A small cabin before the mast provided shelter during inclement weather. This allowed the boom free play abaft the mast. It could be grounded easily and had a miniscule draft.

I was a father again, five times over. Yes, Katherine carried to full term, and we had a beautiful little girl in repayment for her labors. She recovered slowly, but well. I believe that her inability to nurse contributed to her return to health.

Our investments in New Portsmouth had returned to us with interest. The town had grown and changed yet again its flavor. Native faces were common and trading was no longer a matter for Europeans or Colonials. It became something of an open port. I was confident that several vessels I witnessed in port flying a Virginia or Carolina flag had been seen flying a Dutch or French flag not long before. We had a Spanish ship or two upon occasion. Though beef would be welcome we resolved that they ate too much for the return. Instead we bought goats. We provided our own milk and meat in this fashion. Still, we purchased many eggs and chickens, much smoked fish. Since the woodcutting had proceeded for several years we were forming large tracts of land denuded of trees. Some we replanted in nut-bearing trees such as filbert and walnut as well as fruit orchards, notably apples, pears and cherries. Some we dragged clear and planted in vast fields of wheat or corn. It was too cold for flax, cotton or rice and it was cheaper to buy rope than plant hemp. Some families stationed great stands of beehives about the fields to make a living selling honeycomb, honey and beeswax. I realized that we would need to import horses soon and planned for their feeding. I sent bids for bags of clover seed. We used wheat straw to bed the chickens and removed their manure to the vegetable fields with the used straw. We were selling eggs in brine and smoked chicken to merchant vessels that sold to both north and south shores of the sweet lakes. Our melons, tomatoes and peppers were renown throughout the lakes.

We feasted parties from over twenty tribes that fall. The Cherokee visited us once again to trade and talk. Each year I specifically had planted a special patch of melon accompanied by hot pepper bushes in hopes that Walks Far would return. It had been several years yet there he was, in the party. At the end of the feast cut melon was offered. I purposefully paid homage to Walks Far for his trade of melon and pepper seed. I manfully took a bite of a slice, keeping the tears from running down my cheeks by willpower alone. The expression upon his face made much worth the efforts as he blew a mouthful of chewed melon across the fire. I whooped and howled, falling backwards from my seat. Each time I began to stop I gazed upon his face, his dumbfounded expression sending me off again. Eventually he stepped around the fire to slap me sharply upon the head, saying "Bad man. Bad." I giggled away the evening as we offered melon to the rest of the party. I relayed to him the story of the melon-loving shaman and the first accidental fire-melon batch later that evening. It was only then that he appreciated the jape.

We received word that the federalists had fallen from grace as the favored party. The state's rights party had come to the conclusion that without a uniform basis of trade and commerce between the colonies we would remain individual colonies rather than a nation, which would give us benefits in the waters of international trade and defense. International treaties could not be signed by any single state—a referendum of the congress must accede. Excepting this rule, we pledged to be a federation of neighbors—more of a fraternity in common cause. If insulted singularly we vowed to respond in concert, each with a significant fraction of the population held as militia at arms.

Christmas came merry with family and friends. Our tribe grew and prospered.

--1825--

I took the last of our trading vessels to New Portsmouth with a supply of pottery, glassware, fine forged goods and reed mats—an always popular winter item for colonial beds and floors. I was at the counter of the mercantile arranging the details of our transaction with our factor when two men came in wearing riding boots and wool greatcoats, marking them as foreigners. I ignored them as they made their way about the store then came up behind me, drew pistols, cocked and fired at my back. I heard the sound of the hammers cocking back and dove for the floor as they shot. The storekeeper took a round in the chest. I gasped out 'Keep them alive!" as two of my marines crashed thru the door. I witnessed arms and legs being broken as all faded to black.

I awoke in bed dry and groggy with an amazingly painful belly, wondering who had cut me open with a saber. My puzzlement was not relieved before Morpheus claimed me once again. I awoke much more aware and secure in the knowledge that I had rested for a period as my beard was nearly two fingers long. I was weak as I felt my belly, finding a long incision bisecting my belly top to bottom. I realized that I had been some surgeon's hand puppet and God's grace had brought me thru it. My hands before me seemed pale and bony. I would live the life of an invalid for the nonce. I slept once again but to awake as my bedding was being changed. I regret that the devil pulled my ear at that time, for I forced out a "Boo!" much to the dismay of the housekeeper whose arms I was in. I regretted it even more fully as she shrieked into my ear and promptly dropped me like a hot stone. After peering at me as if I were Lazarus himself she dashed off, obviously to find another witness to the miracle. The jolt of my partial fall had awakened me fully and I slowly pulled myself up to a seated position in bed. It was from such a position that I was found by Clancy and the town Chirugeon. "Congratulations, Doctor. The patient survived."

"Your having the constitution of a draft horse likely had much to do with it. You will find yourself lighter by three pounds of sweetmeats next you check yourself against a balance. Before you ask, it is mid-February. Six weeks have passed. The French spies yet live and a man has been dispatched to England in the hopes of giving remedy to that condition in their spymaster. The Congress has been notified of the matter. There have been other events of a grim nature that paint a grimmer picture of collusion and undeclared war such as acts by the British Parliament making free with Colonial goods and seamen when encountered upon the high seas." Bloodletting is among the ingredients of political medicine. It was time for the wind to shift.

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