I heard Michael, behind me, talking to someone. The sentry, I supposed. I'd managed to bypass him, and found myself standing in front of something.
I peered closer and realized I was staring down the mouth of the cannon.
Okay, I knew they probably weren't going to fire the cannon again right away, but just to be safe, I ducked well to the side. Then I realized that there was no one standing by the cannon.
Strange. They'd just fired. Before going down to my booth that morning, I'd watched the artillery crew fire the cannon, while the officer in charge gave a running commentary for the audience. It took eight people – and that was pared down from how many they'd have had in a real battle – and they went through more than thirty steps. I seemed to recall that at least a third of the steps involved cleaning the cannon up after firing. So why wasn't someone still scouring the barrel or whatever?
I moved closer again and reached out to touch the cannon's mouth. The metal was the same temperature as the surrounding air. Didn't cannons heat up, even a little, when they were fired?
I was still pondering when a man appeared from behind a nearby tent and came over to stand by the cannon.
„Quite a sight, isn't she?“ he drawled, patting the barrel like a favorite horse. „Can you imagine what it must have been like, with over fifty of these babies pounding on the town?“
„Quite a sound, too; and no, I don't even want to imagine what it must have been like,“ I said. „Are you really planning to keep this up all night?“
He sighed.
„They're from the encampment, Jess – I mean, Captain,“ the sentry said, as he and Michael came up behind me. „Couldn't sleep.“
„No kidding,“ Captain Jess said. „We're sort of obliged to keep it up all night, ma'am,“ he added. „Come on; if we're going to keep you awake, we can at least entertain you.“
We followed Jess through the tents to the fire at the middle of the encampment. A dozen men and several women sat around the fire. One strummed a guitar. Several held steaming mugs, and some munched toasted cheese sandwiches. My stomach growled, reminding me that I had stormed away from the party, several hours ago, without eating much.
„Would you like something to drink?“ Jess asked. „We have beer, hot cider, water, and a fresh pot of our national beverage. No tea, of course.“
„National beverage?“ Michael asked.
„Coffee,“ I explained. „After the Boston Tea Party, the Continental Congress made it the official national beverage. I'd love a cup.“
„Me, too,“ Michael said.
„I still say it's an anachronism,“ one of the men around the fire said. „The coffee may be authentic, but not if you insist on fixing it with filters and a drip machine.“
„Well, then, pour me out two mugs of hot anachronism for our guests, Mel,“ the captain said. „ 'Cause I'm not about to spoil good coffee boiling it in the same pot you've been using for the salt pork. Do you folks take your anachronism plain, or with cream and sugar?“
I felt a little more mellow toward the artillery crew once I was sitting by their fire, sipping a cup of excellent coffee, and I didn't say no when they offered me a toasted cheese sandwich. But I couldn't help thinking that every minute brought us closer to the time when they'd feel obliged to fire off the cannon again, and I was bound and determined to stop them.
„Look,“ I said, when I'd polished off my snack. „I don't want to abuse your hospitality or anything, but what is it with firing the gun, anyway?“
I heard mumbles from several of the people around the fire.
„We were hired to fire it throughout the festival,“ Jess explained.
„Yes, I know,“ I said. „To simulate the shelling that began on October 9, 1781, and lasted until Cornwallis finally threw in the towel. I got that much. But why do you have to keep it up in the middle of the night, when there's no one awake to hear you? Or at least there wouldn't be anyone awake if you weren't keeping them awake.“
„I'd be happy to knock off at sunset, or midnight, or any old time you like,“ he said. „But it isn't up to me. You'll have to take that up with Madame Von Steuben.“
„Von Steuben?“ Michael said.
„The Prussian general Washington brought over to whip the American troops into shape,“ I explained. „Noted for his harsh discipline, skill as a drillmaster, and ability to curse fluently in three languages.“
„You do know your history,“ the captain said, with a bow.
„I grew up here,“ I told him, with a shrug.
„And one of this Von Steuben's descendents is helping out with the festival?“ Michael asked.