[fanfic] A Little Knowledge ... Part 6
Title: A Little Knowledge … Part 6
Author: nike2422
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Teen Canada, Teen America, England
Warnings: Oh God, America’s going to bare his soul. Some bits of cussing here and there.
Summary: Canada attends a lecture. America attends a meeting of another kind. England returns too late for one, even later for the other
Time Frame: December 16, 1773
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Older Stuff
Canada couldn’t believe he was sitting there, listening to the stupidest speech ever made. He had seen the title on the sign outside the meetinghouse and curiosity had got the best of him. America had disappeared mid-morning and Canada decided that if he went to town perhaps he would run into him and make sure he stayed out of trouble. The speech was about the medicinal risks of drinking tea, and the speaker was none other than John Adams’ personal physician Dr. Young. The crowd in the meetinghouse was so large it was standing room only and the air inside the building was charged with a strange energy, as if everyone sat there not for the speech but for some other event yet to happen that evening. As the doctor filibustered on about the dangers of too much tea in the diet, movement in the windows caught Canada’s eye and he turned to look out the window to see what was going on in the growing dusk. Canada gasped when he saw a single file row of Indians marching down the street towards the wharf.
Indians! At first Canada felt panic, as the sight of Indians at one time had meant danger, but then he realized Indians didn’t march in rows, and these Indians didn’t look very much like Indians. He pushed his way through the crowd and stumbled outside onto the street.
They weren’t Indians he realized when he got a closer look. Even in the dim glow of the street lamps it was obvious these were townspeople dressed like Indians. Canada’s hackles began to rise however when he started recognizing people from the town - the French silversmith, the old cobbler making his and America’s new shoes, Several friends of Samuel Adams and John Hancock, a number of boys from school, and America -
America?
It was a cloudy, chilly night, but not as cold as the ice that suddenly raced through Canada’s veins when he spotted America, face painted, a feather stuck in his hair and carrying his hatchet marching with the rest of the men as they silently made their way to the three ships anchored in the harbor.
More people began to flood out of the meetinghouse, and Canada understood now the real purpose of Dr. Young’s bogus speech. It was crowd management so the men dressed up as Indians wouldn’t have a mob to push through to get to the wharf. Canada didn’t want to lose sight of America so he trotted after the row of men marching silently down the street.
“America! What are you doing?” Canada yelled at the other colony as he marched in step with the men dressed up like Mohawks. America didn’t respond at all, didn’t even look at Canada; just looked straight ahead. That strange light was in his eyes again and through his ‘war paint’ Canada could see the grin that meant he was going to misbehave. Canada hated that grin.
A small group of Mohawks separated from the main group and set up a perimeter on the pier. The other Indians broke up into three groups and got into rowboats. In the distance were the three ships, two had sat in the harbor for weeks while the third, the Beaver had arrived the day before. Beyond those ships was a British Man of War; making sure that the three cargo ships didn’t leave before unloading the tea that the people of Boston refused to land. Canada for the first time wondered if England was on board the British ship, and if he was why they weren’t doing anything to stop the men rowing out to the ships now.
Canada watched America join the other Indians on the deck of the Dartmouth, and the silversmith went below. What happened next made the colony stare in horror and the crowd on the wharf let out a roar of cheers as the Mohawks started bringing the crates of tea on deck, break them open with their hatchets and tomahawks, then dump the contents into the harbor. The wharf took on a festive air; like a carnival was in town and the main attraction was performing in front of them. Hundreds of crates were opened and dumped, and Canada could only wonder as hour after hour of the ‘unloading’ went on at how much money had just been destroyed as it floated on the water. Once again he looked out at the British naval ship. He could see people standing on deck watching but that was all.
Where was England? Why didn’t the British navy try to stop this from happening?
Finally, the Indians went back into the rowboats and rowed back to the wharf. The people on shore cheered but it quickly turned into angry shouts when it was discovered one of the Mohawks had filled the lining of his coat with tea! Canada watched America and a few other men grab the man and rip his coat off of him. They emptied the tea into the water below, then stripped him of the rest of his clothes and dragged the naked terrified man off to where the tar was kept. When the first screams started Canada had seen and heard enough. He turned and ran as fast as he could trying not to hear the others cheer as they tarred and feathered one of their own.
Canada awoke to hear someone slam the front door, stomp into the common room and drop a load of firewood into the wood box. Kuma growled without opening his eyes and rolled over, nearly pushing Canada out of bed. The colony clung to the edge, blankets up to his chin as he listened to the familiar noises of America making coffee. He hopped out of bed and quickly put on his breeches as his breath made puffs of frozen fog in the chilly air. Opening the bedroom door he found America sitting at the table, the biggest grin on his face. He could still see traces of black soot around his hairline and the feather that had been in his hair was now in his fingers as he twirled it back and forth. He looked up when he saw Canada enter the room. “Good morning!”
Canada stared at the idiot, opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at the fire dancing cheerfully in the fireplace, the sound and smell of boiling coffee filling the room. He opened his mouth again, closed it, then sighed audibly and flung himself into a chair. America leaned over and tickled Canada’s chin with the feather. The colony groaned and slapped his hand away. “Don’t!”
America laughed softly, “Too late, the deed’s done.” He smiled at the feather in his fingers then looked back at Canada. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Where is the Man of War?” Canada asked, praying they were still in the harbor.
“Sailed first thing this morning.” America replied, “Watched it leave myself, along with the Beaver, Eleanor and Dartmouth, all bound for Nantucket and that Tory bastard Rotch.”
Canada closed his eyes and felt his body shudder. Why didn’t England come back, didn’t he care about the chaos here? “How much tea did you throw into the harbor?” Canada asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“All of it.” America answered with a smirk. “45 tons baby! We even swept up the deck and made sure every leaf went into the water.”
“How much is 45 tons of tea worth?” Canada wondered if America saw the impending doom coming.
“I think I heard the estimated value was around eighteen thousand sterling.” America started to laugh.
Canada thought about the man whom they tarred and feathered. “None of it was landed at all?”
“Wait,” America said as he took off his shoe, tapped the toe and held it over the table to empty the contents. A few leaves of tea scattered across the table. “Whoops! I guess some did make it after all, wonder what the tax will be on that!” And he looked Canada in the eyes and laughed hysterically at his joke.
Canada glared back, “We’re out of tea you know.”
“Time to switch to coffee!” America proclaimed, reaching for his mug and pulling the coffee pot out of the fire. “Tea tastes like shit anyway.”
“That’s because,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, “You’re not supposed to mix it with salt water.”
Both boys jumped, Canada gasped at the sight of England standing in the open door. America stood up, smiled brightly and exclaimed, “England, welcome back!”
The smile on the country’s face faded when he saw how tall America had grown. England closed the door and walked over to the table. He used his fingers to rake up the scattered tea on the surface and accumulated it into a small pile. Sifting through it he looked up at America’s grinning face and said, “For this bit, including your cheek, a fair price would be your bloody hide.”
“Haven’t you taken enough already?” America asked, his smile still on his lips but his eyes growing hard.
“Apparently not. Are the rumors true you’ve joined the group that leads the rebellion here?”
“What group? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play coy with me boy. You meet at that damn tree on the corner in town. Everyone knows.”
“What tree in town? There are lots of trees in town.”
“STOP IT!” Canada cried out, America and England turned to look at the other colony in the room. “Stop lying America! Do you hear yourself? You’re lying to England!” He jumped over a chair and pushed America with all his might. America stumbled back a bit and the ribbon under his shirt came into view. Canada reached for it and pulled, snapping the ribbon and grabbing the silver medallion attached to it. He held it up in America’s face. “That day we went hunting, I saw it then. How long have you had this?”
America lifted his arm to take the silver medal back but England reached out and snatched it first. He looked at both sides - the arm holding the liberty cap on one side, and the other side showing the liberty tree. Both Canada and America couldn’t help but notice the sadness that suddenly showed in his eyes.
“Treason in my own house. How could you boy, how could you?”
“Your house?” America shouted, laughing, “What do you mean your house? Where have you been all these years? It’s just been Canada and me here since you left ages ago and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re doing just fine without you. We can continue doing just fine too. This is our house now!”
Canada and England stared at America, mouths agape England started to speak, rage building but Canada blurted out first, “America! How can you say such a thing, you and I are both England’s colonies! And do you have a turd in your pocket, what is this ‘we’ stuff?”
“You’re not England’s colony, you’re mine.” America said, it almost a whisper.
“You dare!” England growled.
“What?” Canada shrieked, “What are you saying?”
America gloated at England’s red, angry face. “Back when England and France were negotiating the Treaty of Paris, England had his choice of France’s colonies in the new world.” America walked over to Canada and put his hands on his shoulders. “I asked England to pick you, because do you know which colony he wanted? A god damned sugar plantation in the Caribbean. I asked him to pick you, because I wanted you.”
Canada could only stare at America as he continued. “You’re the 14th colony Canada; we’re going to be united here. We don’t need England anymore, we have each other.”
Canada’s felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach and told his mother had died at the same time. Angry tears spilled down his face as he shoved America’s hands off his shoulders and screamed “You? YOU?” You’re the reason I had to leave mon père? You bastard! All those nights I cried, forced to live here because you wanted me? He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands, sobbing.
“Canada, please don’t cry, we’re brothers." America pleaded.
“NO!” Canada shouted, jumping to his feet and shoving his finger into America’s chest. “Hear me right now; we will NEVER be united EVER!”
America fought the tears trying to fill his own eyes. “You’re mine; I’ll fight for you if I have to.”
“Allez en enfer!” Canada said, as he turned and leaned into the wall, fresh tears running down his face. “I’ll get you back for this some day!”
“Right.” England said, interrupting the drama between the two colonies. “Canada, pack your things, we’ll be leaving shortly.”
America looked at England. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” England replied, a look in his eye that made the colony suddenly feel panic as he watched England put America’s Sons of Liberty medallion in his pocket. “You see, it’s no longer safe here.” He watched Canada disappear down the hall, and then looked back at America. “For anyone.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author’s Note: I spent over a week researching the Boston Tea Party! I knew the basics but there were many details I didn’t know. The list of sources is quite long so if you want to take a look at them just ask.
Benjamin Franklin lived in England when the French and Indian war ended. Franklin wrote a letter to parliament asking them to choose Canada over Guadeloupe, because even though both colonies had the disadvantage of being full of French, at least Canada had lots of land. Also, Franklin owned land in Canada, but I’m sure that had nothing to do with his letter to parliament.
As for Canada telling America "We can never be united!"
As always thanks for reading. I hope my writing skills are improving!
Author: nike2422
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Teen Canada, Teen America, England
Warnings: Oh God, America’s going to bare his soul. Some bits of cussing here and there.
Summary: Canada attends a lecture. America attends a meeting of another kind. England returns too late for one, even later for the other
Time Frame: December 16, 1773
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Older Stuff
Canada couldn’t believe he was sitting there, listening to the stupidest speech ever made. He had seen the title on the sign outside the meetinghouse and curiosity had got the best of him. America had disappeared mid-morning and Canada decided that if he went to town perhaps he would run into him and make sure he stayed out of trouble. The speech was about the medicinal risks of drinking tea, and the speaker was none other than John Adams’ personal physician Dr. Young. The crowd in the meetinghouse was so large it was standing room only and the air inside the building was charged with a strange energy, as if everyone sat there not for the speech but for some other event yet to happen that evening. As the doctor filibustered on about the dangers of too much tea in the diet, movement in the windows caught Canada’s eye and he turned to look out the window to see what was going on in the growing dusk. Canada gasped when he saw a single file row of Indians marching down the street towards the wharf.
Indians! At first Canada felt panic, as the sight of Indians at one time had meant danger, but then he realized Indians didn’t march in rows, and these Indians didn’t look very much like Indians. He pushed his way through the crowd and stumbled outside onto the street.
They weren’t Indians he realized when he got a closer look. Even in the dim glow of the street lamps it was obvious these were townspeople dressed like Indians. Canada’s hackles began to rise however when he started recognizing people from the town - the French silversmith, the old cobbler making his and America’s new shoes, Several friends of Samuel Adams and John Hancock, a number of boys from school, and America -
America?
It was a cloudy, chilly night, but not as cold as the ice that suddenly raced through Canada’s veins when he spotted America, face painted, a feather stuck in his hair and carrying his hatchet marching with the rest of the men as they silently made their way to the three ships anchored in the harbor.
More people began to flood out of the meetinghouse, and Canada understood now the real purpose of Dr. Young’s bogus speech. It was crowd management so the men dressed up as Indians wouldn’t have a mob to push through to get to the wharf. Canada didn’t want to lose sight of America so he trotted after the row of men marching silently down the street.
“America! What are you doing?” Canada yelled at the other colony as he marched in step with the men dressed up like Mohawks. America didn’t respond at all, didn’t even look at Canada; just looked straight ahead. That strange light was in his eyes again and through his ‘war paint’ Canada could see the grin that meant he was going to misbehave. Canada hated that grin.
A small group of Mohawks separated from the main group and set up a perimeter on the pier. The other Indians broke up into three groups and got into rowboats. In the distance were the three ships, two had sat in the harbor for weeks while the third, the Beaver had arrived the day before. Beyond those ships was a British Man of War; making sure that the three cargo ships didn’t leave before unloading the tea that the people of Boston refused to land. Canada for the first time wondered if England was on board the British ship, and if he was why they weren’t doing anything to stop the men rowing out to the ships now.
Canada watched America join the other Indians on the deck of the Dartmouth, and the silversmith went below. What happened next made the colony stare in horror and the crowd on the wharf let out a roar of cheers as the Mohawks started bringing the crates of tea on deck, break them open with their hatchets and tomahawks, then dump the contents into the harbor. The wharf took on a festive air; like a carnival was in town and the main attraction was performing in front of them. Hundreds of crates were opened and dumped, and Canada could only wonder as hour after hour of the ‘unloading’ went on at how much money had just been destroyed as it floated on the water. Once again he looked out at the British naval ship. He could see people standing on deck watching but that was all.
Where was England? Why didn’t the British navy try to stop this from happening?
Finally, the Indians went back into the rowboats and rowed back to the wharf. The people on shore cheered but it quickly turned into angry shouts when it was discovered one of the Mohawks had filled the lining of his coat with tea! Canada watched America and a few other men grab the man and rip his coat off of him. They emptied the tea into the water below, then stripped him of the rest of his clothes and dragged the naked terrified man off to where the tar was kept. When the first screams started Canada had seen and heard enough. He turned and ran as fast as he could trying not to hear the others cheer as they tarred and feathered one of their own.
Canada awoke to hear someone slam the front door, stomp into the common room and drop a load of firewood into the wood box. Kuma growled without opening his eyes and rolled over, nearly pushing Canada out of bed. The colony clung to the edge, blankets up to his chin as he listened to the familiar noises of America making coffee. He hopped out of bed and quickly put on his breeches as his breath made puffs of frozen fog in the chilly air. Opening the bedroom door he found America sitting at the table, the biggest grin on his face. He could still see traces of black soot around his hairline and the feather that had been in his hair was now in his fingers as he twirled it back and forth. He looked up when he saw Canada enter the room. “Good morning!”
Canada stared at the idiot, opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at the fire dancing cheerfully in the fireplace, the sound and smell of boiling coffee filling the room. He opened his mouth again, closed it, then sighed audibly and flung himself into a chair. America leaned over and tickled Canada’s chin with the feather. The colony groaned and slapped his hand away. “Don’t!”
America laughed softly, “Too late, the deed’s done.” He smiled at the feather in his fingers then looked back at Canada. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Where is the Man of War?” Canada asked, praying they were still in the harbor.
“Sailed first thing this morning.” America replied, “Watched it leave myself, along with the Beaver, Eleanor and Dartmouth, all bound for Nantucket and that Tory bastard Rotch.”
Canada closed his eyes and felt his body shudder. Why didn’t England come back, didn’t he care about the chaos here? “How much tea did you throw into the harbor?” Canada asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“All of it.” America answered with a smirk. “45 tons baby! We even swept up the deck and made sure every leaf went into the water.”
“How much is 45 tons of tea worth?” Canada wondered if America saw the impending doom coming.
“I think I heard the estimated value was around eighteen thousand sterling.” America started to laugh.
Canada thought about the man whom they tarred and feathered. “None of it was landed at all?”
“Wait,” America said as he took off his shoe, tapped the toe and held it over the table to empty the contents. A few leaves of tea scattered across the table. “Whoops! I guess some did make it after all, wonder what the tax will be on that!” And he looked Canada in the eyes and laughed hysterically at his joke.
Canada glared back, “We’re out of tea you know.”
“Time to switch to coffee!” America proclaimed, reaching for his mug and pulling the coffee pot out of the fire. “Tea tastes like shit anyway.”
“That’s because,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, “You’re not supposed to mix it with salt water.”
Both boys jumped, Canada gasped at the sight of England standing in the open door. America stood up, smiled brightly and exclaimed, “England, welcome back!”
The smile on the country’s face faded when he saw how tall America had grown. England closed the door and walked over to the table. He used his fingers to rake up the scattered tea on the surface and accumulated it into a small pile. Sifting through it he looked up at America’s grinning face and said, “For this bit, including your cheek, a fair price would be your bloody hide.”
“Haven’t you taken enough already?” America asked, his smile still on his lips but his eyes growing hard.
“Apparently not. Are the rumors true you’ve joined the group that leads the rebellion here?”
“What group? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play coy with me boy. You meet at that damn tree on the corner in town. Everyone knows.”
“What tree in town? There are lots of trees in town.”
“STOP IT!” Canada cried out, America and England turned to look at the other colony in the room. “Stop lying America! Do you hear yourself? You’re lying to England!” He jumped over a chair and pushed America with all his might. America stumbled back a bit and the ribbon under his shirt came into view. Canada reached for it and pulled, snapping the ribbon and grabbing the silver medallion attached to it. He held it up in America’s face. “That day we went hunting, I saw it then. How long have you had this?”
America lifted his arm to take the silver medal back but England reached out and snatched it first. He looked at both sides - the arm holding the liberty cap on one side, and the other side showing the liberty tree. Both Canada and America couldn’t help but notice the sadness that suddenly showed in his eyes.
“Treason in my own house. How could you boy, how could you?”
“Your house?” America shouted, laughing, “What do you mean your house? Where have you been all these years? It’s just been Canada and me here since you left ages ago and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re doing just fine without you. We can continue doing just fine too. This is our house now!”
Canada and England stared at America, mouths agape England started to speak, rage building but Canada blurted out first, “America! How can you say such a thing, you and I are both England’s colonies! And do you have a turd in your pocket, what is this ‘we’ stuff?”
“You’re not England’s colony, you’re mine.” America said, it almost a whisper.
“You dare!” England growled.
“What?” Canada shrieked, “What are you saying?”
America gloated at England’s red, angry face. “Back when England and France were negotiating the Treaty of Paris, England had his choice of France’s colonies in the new world.” America walked over to Canada and put his hands on his shoulders. “I asked England to pick you, because do you know which colony he wanted? A god damned sugar plantation in the Caribbean. I asked him to pick you, because I wanted you.”
Canada could only stare at America as he continued. “You’re the 14th colony Canada; we’re going to be united here. We don’t need England anymore, we have each other.”
Canada’s felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach and told his mother had died at the same time. Angry tears spilled down his face as he shoved America’s hands off his shoulders and screamed “You? YOU?” You’re the reason I had to leave mon père? You bastard! All those nights I cried, forced to live here because you wanted me? He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands, sobbing.
“Canada, please don’t cry, we’re brothers." America pleaded.
“NO!” Canada shouted, jumping to his feet and shoving his finger into America’s chest. “Hear me right now; we will NEVER be united EVER!”
America fought the tears trying to fill his own eyes. “You’re mine; I’ll fight for you if I have to.”
“Allez en enfer!” Canada said, as he turned and leaned into the wall, fresh tears running down his face. “I’ll get you back for this some day!”
“Right.” England said, interrupting the drama between the two colonies. “Canada, pack your things, we’ll be leaving shortly.”
America looked at England. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” England replied, a look in his eye that made the colony suddenly feel panic as he watched England put America’s Sons of Liberty medallion in his pocket. “You see, it’s no longer safe here.” He watched Canada disappear down the hall, and then looked back at America. “For anyone.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author’s Note: I spent over a week researching the Boston Tea Party! I knew the basics but there were many details I didn’t know. The list of sources is quite long so if you want to take a look at them just ask.
Benjamin Franklin lived in England when the French and Indian war ended. Franklin wrote a letter to parliament asking them to choose Canada over Guadeloupe, because even though both colonies had the disadvantage of being full of French, at least Canada had lots of land. Also, Franklin owned land in Canada, but I’m sure that had nothing to do with his letter to parliament.
As for Canada telling America "We can never be united!"
As always thanks for reading. I hope my writing skills are improving!