Charles and Jonathan talked for so long that it was already getting late; the winter sun, even before it set, had long since become dim and weak.
The golden sunlight shone on them, but they felt no warmth, it only illuminated the old militiamen returning from fishing, making Charles, who watched from afar, feel it was a unique sight.
"Sir, it's getting late, let's go back."
"Mm!" Charles nodded, but did not leave immediately.
He noticed that the old militiamen, who had already tied up their small boats and were preparing to mount their horses, seemed to have only one large fish the size of an arm, which was completely different from his own harvest of several large fat fish earlier.
His heart stirred, and he couldn't help but kick his stirrup, slowly riding his horse over.
"Gentlemen! Looks like the harvest isn't very good?" Charles tried to smile as naturally as possible, so that the other party wouldn't think he was mocking them.
"Haha! sir, your fishing net has meshes that are too large, many small fish escaped," replied a neat-looking old militiaman, who was leading the group, with a wry smile.
Today's trade was a huge loss; one wild rabbit was only exchanged for one fish.
"How ignorant! That was this good sir's idea, he specifically stipulated using such large meshes so that the small fish could be preserved.
Because spring is coming soon, these small fish that survived the winter will become big fat fish in just one or two months, and they can also breed a group of small fish before being caught.
Catching them now is not only a great pity, but it will also cause the entire fish population to die out," Jonathan, who followed, said with dissatisfaction.
These old militiamen only knew how to play with guns and hunt; they wouldn't think so much.
Upon hearing Butler Jonathan's words, they were immediately stunned.
Even though the leading militiaman knew he was listening to the butler's lecture, he still nodded continuously, feeling that what was said was very reasonable.
After Jonathan finished speaking angrily, he also took off his hat and bowed deeply to Charles:
"You are truly a wise man sir!"
"Haha!" Charles gave an embarrassed smile; it seemed it was another childish idea from little York.
However, he happened to have other plans, so he took the opportunity to say, "gentlemen, I am very sorry that due to my decision, your income has been greatly reduced.
If you are willing, I would like to invite you to my manor for dinner to express my apology."
Seeing that some of the old militiamen showed signs of disagreement, he immediately added:
"I heard that several small contingents of the British army have set out from Quebec, preparing to unite with the natives to attack the Ohio area.
I also want to discuss with everyone the matter of organizing self-defense militiamen in Pittsburgh."
Charles knew that something like this had indeed happened in history.
The British army had allied with several native tribes in the Midwest, preparing to attack the Thirteen Colonies of North America from west to east, but their plans were disrupted by the American army's proactive northern expedition.
The American Declaration of Independence even deliberately included a passage about this, calling the natives despicable, and later carried out very fierce retaliation.
From the natives' perspective, the British were much more likable than the Americans.
"Are they really going to attack here?"
Several old militiamen put their heads together, exchanging opinions, and finally, of course, agreed to go to Charles' manor to discuss it.
After all, although these people were militiamen and belonged to genuine combat personnel, their deeply ingrained beliefs made them feel that any action by the militiamen must be presided over by a local prominent figure.
And as the largest and oldest landowner in Pittsburgh, Charles was undoubtedly the best candidate.
However, in the end, only three people returned to Scarlet Manor with Charles; the other two, carrying the only fat fish, went back to their own homes to deliver messages.
On the way, Charles generally learned about these people's situations.
The leading old militiaman was named Antoine, who claimed to have half French ancestry and had served as a sergeant in the British army.
The others were American, the oldest; Phil, who claimed to be a sharpshooter who could shoot wild rabbits with both hands; Jekill, who was slightly lame; and the strongest and youngest, but with a family of ten to support.
The latter two did not go to Scarlet Manor.
At Scarlet Manor, Charles treated them with fish, smoked rabbit meat, broth, white bread, small cookies, and a small amount of aperitif.
At this time, the diet of Europeans and Americans was still relatively simple, and such a diet would be considered good even in a big city.
However, during dinner, Charles tried several times to talk to the old militiamen about land matters, but was interrupted by Butler Jonathan's coughs, who deemed it not in line with dining etiquette.
The few people could only exchange a few meaningless compliments.
Antoine even showed off a French phrase when the white bread arrived.
After dinner, under the dim lamplight, the few people began their formal conversation.
"Antoine, whether the British army will attack Pittsburgh cannot be concluded yet, but they will definitely attack Pennsylvania.
However, their allies, the natives, will certainly harass us here in Pittsburgh.
Although the natives are not strong, Pittsburgh is vast and sparsely populated, which is most suitable for their surprise attacks.
As a major landowner in Pittsburgh, I think it is necessary for us to organize a team for constant vigilance.
How many of you veterans who participated in the Seven Years' war between Britain and France are still in Pittsburgh?" Charles asked first.
At this time, many places in North America were in a state of anarchy, and local affairs could be entirely decided by local gentry and landowners.
Pittsburgh had so few people and no formal assembly.
Charles only needed to reach an agreement with a few other landowners and big merchants, and it could be used as a formal local self-determination plan, reported to the superior Pennsylvania Assembly.
Unless the Pennsylvania Assembly voted against it, their actions would be legal.
After listening to Charles' statement, the few people nodded gently, indicating their approval of his opinion.
As old militiamen who had fought the natives several times, they understood the natives' fighting style best and were also the best combat soldiers.
In response to Charles' question, Antoine, who had the highest military rank, replied:
"There should still be a dozen or so old militiamen like us left.
The others all responded to General Washington's call and went to join the Continental army; those who remained did so because they had various personal difficulties."
He was worried that the remaining veterans basically all had various difficulties, and it would probably be very difficult to organize these people to join the Pittsburgh militia.
"Lord Godfrey, it might be difficult for us to join the militia.
I am already fifty-one years old, and I need to rest after running a few steps, so I can't formally fight.
Like Antoine, he only has an elderly mother and three children under ten at home; if he is not home, his whole family might starve to death.
Jekill's family is even more difficult; he did not participate in the Anglo-French war, but his veteran father who participated in combat is deaf and missing a leg.
His young wife gave birth to seven children for him in ten years, alas, poor little Jekill, I wonder if he has finished eating yet..."
Before Charles could speak, the oldest American had already begun to complain.
Fortunately, Charles, as a former PhD tour guide, had previously experienced an entire group of fifty to sixty people complaining to him at the same time, so he was very good at listening to complaints.
He basically let old Sherman's words go in one ear and out the other, not caring in the slightest.
A faint smile still hung on his face as he patiently listened to him recount his difficulties.
Finally, Antoine really couldn't bear to listen anymore and waved his hand to interrupt him.
"Lord Charles, if Pittsburgh needs us to take up arms and fight, we will certainly step forward, but asking us to leave home and join the army is indeed highly unlikely.
Otherwise, we would harm our own families without the natives even needing to lift a finger."
"Oh." Charles nodded.
He hadn't really expected them to stand up and join the army.
Even the prophecy that the British army and natives would attack Pittsburgh was largely based on speculation from later articles.
Saying that was just a prelude to other matters.
"How many black slaves do you have in your homes?"
"Black slaves?" The faces of several people showed a bitter smile.
"Only old Jekill's family has a black old cook.
The rest of us were originally militiamen with no family; how could we possibly have black slaves at home?
We came to Pittsburgh with nothing, and besides the money for seeds and farm tools, we had no spare funds to buy black slaves.
Even now, the crops in the fields are still cultivated by ourselves."
"So that's how it is." Charles was very satisfied in his heart.
"Then aren't you even unable to train all your land?"
Without black slaves, turning soldiers who were good at killing into farmers, the output was predictable.
His guess that they lacked food seemed very likely.