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Smiling flirtatiously, Oliver said, “And you shall. After we have had some fun of our own.” He turned to Baldwin. “You and your friends need to leave—now!”
Morton placed his hand on Baldwin’s shoulder. “I think we can head back to the meeting now.”
Baldwin nodded. “I would like that.”
As they exited the room, Baldwin tipped his head at his brother before closing the door. They exited the building and headed towards the Blue Boar.
Morton glanced over at him. “Again, I would like to apologize,” he said. “Having a meeting with any radical views is a good way to get oneself locked up. And Runners are merciless.”
“I am well aware of that,” Baldwin replied. “That is how I ended up in the Royal Navy.”
“You are a criminal?”
“Aye,” Baldwin confirmed. “I was robbing a shop to get my girl some pretty ribbon and a Runner came across me. The judge gave me a choice; prison or join the navy.”
“Do you regret your choice?”
“Nearly every day,” Baldwin asserted. “I was fighting for a monarchy that I don’t believe in, and we were flogged for any infraction. When I was assigned to a ship that was bound for the Americas, I walked off and didn’t look back.”
“You deserted?” Morton asked.
Baldwin nodded. “I did, but I served my time. The Royal Navy refused to release me, citing stupid reasons. They just needed more men to fight in their blasted wars.”
“Aren’t you afraid you will get a court martial for desertion?” Tom asked as he walked next to Baldwin.
“Every day on that ship, I walked around like I was already dead,” Baldwin revealed. “I won’t go back. They will have to drag my bloody corpse back to the ship.”
Morton gave him an approving look. “We have something in common, you and I.”
“We do?”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to advance our cause,” Morton shared, “including dying for it.”
“I’ve come to accept that dying is easy, but living takes hard work,” Baldwin said.
“Well said, Baldwin,” Morton stated as they entered the Blue Boar. He walked to the back door and pounded on it.
The door was opened, and Morton brushed past the man guarding it. “I have seen the rubbish pile where Baldwin lives,” he announced, stopping in the front of the room. “I have no problem with this man attending our meetings.”
Baldwin stepped towards the wall and leaned his shoulder against it.
Morton straightened his shoulders. “The monarchy has abandoned us, gentlemen,” he proclaimed. “We are in desperate straits due to high taxes, the obscene price of food, and unprecedented levels of unemployment due to wartime trade restrictions. Some of our own neighbors have no choice between joining the army or starving, leaving their loved ones behind to fend for themselves. And what happens if we dare speak up about the injustice?” He paused before answering, “We will be arrested and labeled as rebels.”
Pacing the small room, Morton continued. “The people are rioting, and it scares our mad King George. He knows that the fate of the French monarchy could be his own. Perhaps we should put his head on a stake, too!”
“Hear, hear!” the men in the room yelled.
Morton put his hand up to quiet the men down. “I have just spoken treason for even uttering those words, but the king must know that we have rights! While the Prince Regent is acquiring more debt to fund his lavish lifestyle, the people are starving.” He pointed towards a man who was sitting at one of the tables. “When was the last time you ate?”
The man smirked. “Tonight.”
The room erupted in laughter, and Morton’s face held an amused grin. “You are one of the lucky ones, my good man,” he said, then grew solemn. “But men, women, and children are starving right here in Town. I have seen their disheveled, sunken faces as they beg on the streets. The hope in their eyes has vanished. It has been taken away by a merciless king who only cares for himself!”
A man spoke up from the back of the room. “What can we do about it?”
Morton turned his attention towards him. “We can fight!” he exclaimed. “France did it! As did the Americans!” He held his clenched fist up in the air. “What is stopping us from doing it?”
The men in the room cheered as Morton bobbed his head. When the room died down, Morton walked over to a box in the front of the room. “We need funds to start a revolution,” he said, holding it up. “Give what you can but keep enough so you can eat. A starved man is not a useful rebel.”
