Captain MacKinley's Diary: 20th January 1768

It was Wednesday, the 20th of January, and as usual there was a storm brewing in the harbor. This was not a good start to our mission for our people as it set a dark prediction for the upcoming revolution. No matter our hopes to have fun along the way, we also had to realize about the dangers. Many possibilities of disasters lay in the path of this mission.

I sat there thinking about the destinations including North East, Rising Sun, the quick jaunt to Cumberland, and the wandering through lower Pennsylvania. There we would be traversing along a series of rivers with the occasional diplomatic stops. After all of this our final landing point would be in New York City by way of Philadelphia.

I wasn’t sure how successful this trip was going to be with our official or unofficial business. Richard was clearly examining some of his own thoughts and expectations for what laid ahead of us. Very few words were passed between us during the first few hours with rain lightly falling the entire time. We used the Gunpowder River landmarks to find a small tavern located across from the town of Towson.

I had been to establishments in that area multiple times on the advice from clerks in my prior department. Some of those attempts had proved fruitful while another had led to the scar that now resided on my upper right thigh. My fingers dropped from my reins, brushing against the mark when we stopped at a crossroads to examine the map.

We had covered barely 13 miles since the start when we were projected to reach closer to 20 miles per traveling day.

At this inconvenient intersection, Richard finally spoke of personal matters, explaining, “We won’t be able to do anything until we’re farther along in our journey. Will you be satisfied with that?”

“Will you?” I quickly asked back to him.

The man on the horse beside me was blushing once again. Both of our temptations were clearly rising and a day bouncing in the saddle had not helped the situation in my trousers. The undergarments themselves were quite soaked from my absent minded thoughts of pleasure as I only sought a few moments of softness with my companion.

He rolled up the semi-waterproof, wax coated map, tucking it into the pouch beside his sword and flintlock. Richard then said, “I think I’ll be able to manage a few more days without the excuse of a single bed.”

His eyes gave a shine and a wink as he added, “I’ve heard some of those farther up cabins are limited on bunk space.”

Once again, our sly comments caused a silence between us. This time the cloud stayed with us through the end of day one’s ride and only drifted off to haunt another fellow when we began to dine on the “humble” supper. With the tavern being so close to Baltimore there was still a high class sense to the place. Their simple dinner was a small poultry and vegetable pie, accompanied by a fine ale, a plate of soft cheeses, and a few winter fruits.

“It’s a fine supper, is it not?” Richard asked while spreading a pinkish cheese across his crusty bread. He bit into it sharply, the crumbs catching in his day old beard before he continued, “Though this tavern is much more crowded than I was expecting for this time of year.”

His joking remark of complaint called the attention of the barkeep and assumed owner of the establishment. The portly man quickly made his way over to us, a look of nervousness across an already stressed red face. I’m sure he recognized the Lee heir and as a proprietor in this region he was most likely knew what other Lees had done to taverns they did not care for. Or for inns where a simple servant of the male or female variety had turned down their advancements. Those were the men who would buy a bar just to burn it down for a tepid instead of piping bowl of soup.

Or so these were the rumors I had heard from a good steward I had relations with while staying in a hotel in Baltimore. The young man had told me of something he witnessed that aligned with how other Lee men dealt with their frustrations. I was thankful, in reference to this trip and the time in bed, that Richard was more calm, more submissive than his brethren, and that I might be able to take him with a single kiss.

“Is there anything wrong here, gentlemen?” the owner asked us while dabbing at the droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. Before Richard had a chance to speak, I answered the man by saying, “Everything is quite alright, sir, but thank you for checking on us.”

I laid my forearms down upon the table. It was enough to seem relaxed without breaking the careful balance of polite banners with the expected ruggedness of a Navy man. (This was a detail that I was sure many patrons of the tavern were aware of, either by we having met before or by the obviousness of my disguised uniform. I had been told by the steward in Baltimore that my performance in bed was everything that was expected of a sailor and the next time he wished me to bring rope. Which I did.) Despite my subtle gesture, the proprietor still lurked at a nearby table, almost pretending to pay attention to the concerns of another customer. If I could have heard their words, I would have recommended that the other man avoid the seafood chowder. But to continue my attempts to shoo the busy man away, I restarted my conversation with Richard by requesting something of the owner.

In a louder voice, I pondered, “Perhaps we should remove ourselves to our rooms to study the map and finish this neat cheese board upstairs as well. Would you mind, sir, fetching us a bottle of Yankee whiskey since the ale has become too warm?”

Now I was being hypocritical, in a way, of how I talked of the behavior of the Lee family in fine establishments. Though to be fair to my mean like comments I did not have their same money, power or prestige. My time in the Navy and studying abroad had created a man who is well versed in the art of forcing cooperation. While the brethren of my friend may prefer to flip over a table, I preferred to dine with the suggestion that I knew of the periodical editors near Washington’s land.

Again, it was a true suggestion that I only slightly exaggerated. I did know of some of the culinary critics who lived in the region. Many of them were flamboyant men who cared to be on the bottom bunk of my bed. And many of them, beyond providing release, had constructed wondrous meals for me as a way to gain my favor.

“Shall we retire to our room now, Captain MacKinley? Seeing as the steward has already taken the whiskey and the remaining foods up to our room for continued enjoyment.”

I looked up to him from the careful notations I was making upon my map and into my business journal. An important component of my sanity was keeping the two notebooks separate as I advanced along this treacherous journey. My observations showed that his eyes almost glowed against the candle light at our table. Such a beautiful majesty for me to gaze upon and be distracted by.

“Have we decided on our sleeping arrangements yet, Mr. Lee?”

My face was still buried in my notes as I asked him this, trying to avoid making any sort of eye contact.

“I think that the dream scenario is too risky for our current location, but I am grateful that we are rooming together. This way I can at least be in close proximity to you, the person I care so deeply for,” he explained, pushing our hands together once more.

After his sudden, light affection, Richard quickly stood up, collected his coat from the back of his chair, and moved swiftly across the room. His quick exit showed the awkwardness of the conversation with nervousness on both sides of the table. If I could reach out and kiss him while we were in public the lord above us knows I would jump at the chance in a heart beat.

Our lonely, separated nights went on without issue. I stayed far away from my dear love so I would not be tempted to push my advances on him. The work was there to distract me until the hours grew long and the bartender had a mean look in his eye. I could have forced a means of staying there, but I folded my parchment and headed up to our shared room.

The leather banded key we were given was only a false sense of security. There were many dangers lurking outside but as I turned the key in the lock, I was presented with a nude man of beauty upon my bed. I write the end of this entry in a hurry as I think I shall soon be attending to my needs first and depriving him of his own.