George spent the next hours pouring over the journal he found in the L’s desk. There was more information in the journal than he originally saw by the sliver of moonlight through the dirty window. Of course the pages outlining the details of this new fort Duquesne were the crown jewels of the book but there were other highlights.
As far as he could tell, Fort Le Beuff was due to increase its strength by at about a quarter. Fort Venango has a well-developed series of what look like tunnels that lead out past the southern embankment. There is an immense storage facility at Presque Isle, with enough grain to feed the entire French contingent in Pennsylvania all winter. The list went on and on. Apparently this journal contained notes the L had put down during his meetings with the fort commanders.
This journal will be missed, he thought. I need to get it back into the office as soon as possible. So the decision was made to forgo sleep and transfer the information into his journal immediately and not wait for Jacob. He was making headway when he heard a knock at the door.
George covered the journal with his cloak and nodded to Chris, signaling permission to open the door. In the doorway was Jacob Van Braam accompanied by two French soldiers. The soldiers watched him enter, sneered and then turned and headed back to the guardhouse.
“Please come inside Jacob, you are chilling the entire cabin.” The Major joked, and returned to work on the journal.
Jacob walked inside and Chris closed the door behind him. Van Braam wasn’t a physically imposing figure. He stood about five foot seven with shallow cheeks that gave away his slight weight. He had a mustache but only the faint hint of a beard. He made a point of taking care of his physical appearance even going so far as shaving regularly this far from civilization.
“The French interpreter has arrived and we have been invited to dinner with the L,” he said in a single breath.
The Major never looked up from the journal and continued his work, trying to get his drawing of the fort to scale.
“Was that in French?” He said turning to Chris, “I was positive I spoke in English”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Chris “You could be speaking Greek for all that the Major will care. He hasn’t looked up from that book in hours.”
“Jacob, just the man I wanted to see.” Said the Major. “Come over here and tell me what these words mean, my French isn’t very good.”
“So you’re reading French books now, how quaint.” Said Jacob. “Not so sure that the King is going to keep things under control in America, eh, …uh.” The interpreter’s eyes grew wide as he saw the journal. He could tell immediately that this was something that the Major shouldn’t be translating in his cabin.
“I am not going to ask where you got this,” He said shaking his head in astonishment. He took the journal from George’s outstretched hands and started leafing through it. “This is remarkable, there are sketches, plans and information about every fort. Unbelievable, what is this Duquesne structure? This is a new fort!”
The interpreter sat on the edge of the bed and continued to pour through the journal. Obviously stunned at the treasure trove of information.
“I’ve done my best to write down what I can, here are my notes.” He handed his journal to Jacob. “I couldn’t wait for you because obviously I need to get this back with great haste.”
“Obviously,” repeated Jacob. “I’ll need most of the day to work on this. Probably up until our dinner with the L. When do you plan to return it?”
“Tonight, after our dinner. Chris will help me.” He said with a wink to Chris. Chris frowned and turned to look out the window. His diversion was still there, but would be easier for the French to discover in the light of day.