by C. Fennessy
Driving the wagon, he came to a fork in the road. One led to Bunker Hill, and the other to Breed’s Hill. There, spread out upon the ground along the road and up the side of a knoll, were the beaten men, too weak to stand.
Jamie jumped down from the wagon and two men helped him to load the wounded. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but some cried out in pain at his touch. When the wagon was completely full, he turned it around and headed back for Cambridge.
All that day and into evening, Jamie made continuous trips moving the wounded back to Cambridge. He stopped once to check on Sarah and found her among the rows of moaning wounded, giving them water or sponging their faces.
After his last trip, Jamie returned to find Sarah again.
“Has there been any sign of my father?” she asked, brushing back her hair with her hand, looking tired and sweaty.
“No. I’ve asked around. A few men told me they had seen him early on in the battle, but not recently.”
“Well, he hasn’t been brought here,” she said in a worried tone.
“I’m sure he must be all right,” Jamie said, forcing hope into his voice. “Perhaps he’s home already, waiting for us. I’ll look around the camp before we go.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, and he nodded.
They went from tent to tent, asking for anyone who had seen Jonathan Harper. They drove up to Hastings House and asked for Dr. Warren. One of the soldiers frowned at them, asking,
“Are you his kin?”
“No, but we’re looking for my father, Jonathan Harper. He’s a friend of Dr. Warren’s.”
The man’s lips tightened.
“Well, then I’m sorry to tell you that Dr. Warren was killed in today’s battle. I don’t know about your father, Miss. I’m sorry.”
Jamie and Sarah looked at each other in disbelief. It seemed so impossible. How could Dr. Warren be dead, when they had spoken to him just recently? But another man sat behind his desk, they realized that it was terrifyingly true. What about Jonathan? Had he been killed as well?
They asked every soldier they saw, but no one knew the answer. Finally, they found a man who had marched up to Charlestown in the same group with Jonathan, and he remembered seeing him and Dr. Warren on Breed’s Hill, but had lost sight of them both once the British flooded the trenches and chased them back.
Sarah was sick with fear. Since her father was not among the wounded or those who had survived, she could only assume the worst. She felt Jamie’s arm over her shoulder as he guided her back towards the door.
“Come on, let’s go home,” he said, and they drove back to the farm in solemn silence.
All the way home, Sarah held on to the hope that her father would be there, looking tired and dirty from the day’s fighting. But when they opened the door, the house was dark and cold. Her hopes died and her heart filled with anguish. She sat down at the kitchen table and put her head down, letting the tears fall.
Jamie sat down next to her and said, “Your father faced this battle with bravery and fought because he believed it would make a difference… a difference for you and for everyone else who would live here in the years to come. So we could be free, Sarah. He did it…because he loves you, and he loves this country. But we mustn’t give up yet. Someone will know where your father is. We just have to keep looking. We’ll find him somehow, I promise you!”
She stifled a sob and nodded.
“Thanks,” was all she could manage.
He stood up. “I’ll make the fire if you can manage to cook us some eggs for supper.”
She nodded, wiping away her tears.
“Yes, I can manage that.”
Jamie nodded in satisfaction and busied himself with setting the fire in the hearth. But as he worked, he kept his thoughts and his doubts to himself. Tomorrow might bring answers that he didn’t want to have.
Table of Contents
Chapter 22: Searching for Jonathan
When they returned to Cambridge the next day, they found Mr. Holbrook at Hastings House and asked him if he had seen Sarah’s father.
“No, I haven’t. He didn’t come home last night?” he asked anxiously.
“No,” Sarah shook her head slowly. She looked tired and worn, as if she hadn’t slept at all, and Mr. Holbrook put his arm around her shoulder.
“Come with me,” he said, leading them outside. They climbed into the wagon and drove to Colonel William Prescott’s tent in the army camp. After speaking with an aide, they were allowed in to see the colonel. When the colonel was told that Sarah’s father was missing, he told his aide to bring him “the lists”. After scanning the lists, he said,
“Jonathan Harper’s name is not among those listed as dead. And since you did not find him among the wounded, there are two possibilities. Either he was killed and no one found his body, or he was taken prisoner by the British. Since the British has taken Charlestown, I can’t send anyone up there to look for him. I’m sorry.”
Sarah mumbled her thanks and climbed back into the wagon with the others. After they returned Mr. Holbrook to headquarters, Sarah sat staring ahead in silence, crushed by disappointment.
Jamie turned his wagon back toward the camp.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he continued on past the Green.
“To Charlestown. Maybe the British know something.”
Sarah looked intently at him, knowing they would be taking a risk. But she didn’t care about the danger. They had to find out the truth.
Charleston Neck was crowded with British soldiers, and two armed guards waved them to a halt. Jamie explained why they had come.
“You’ll have to leave the wagon here, but I’ll let you go ahead on foot. If you find him among the dead, you can take the wagon up to get his body.”
After pulling the wagon off to the side of the road, they climbed down. They walked the remaining distance, passing Redcoats who were lifting their fallen comrades from the smoky, silent battlefield. Another team of workers dug graves near the trenches.
Jamie stopped to ask a soldier where the Americans were. He pointed to a row of corpses lying beside a split rail fence,
“Over there, most of ‘em. We ‘ain’t ‘ad the time to bury ‘em yet.”
They walked up the grassy hill to the fence and saw the long line of bodies lying side by side. They walked quietly past the silent corpses, as if afraid of disturbing them from their slumber of death, and searched each face. When they reached the last man, Sarah released a sigh.
“He’s not here.”
“No,” Jamie said, “Let’s go.”
Jamie tossed and turned in his bed that night. They had spent the rest of the day taking care of the animals and bringing in wood for the fire, but neither he nor Sarah had talked much. He didn’t know what to do or say to her to ease her pain. Before going upstairs to his room that night, he paused to say, “Don’t give up yet, Sarah. He may still be alive. Remember what he told you before he left?”
She looked at him with sad eyes and nodded, “Yes, I remember. It’s just so hard to trust in God. Where is he, Jamie?”
“He’s still alive, and I won’t give up searching for him until he’s found.”
“But what can we do? We’ve looked everywhere! He should be home by now!”
Jamie nodded and touched her shoulder gently, “Let me think on it. I’ll figure out something. I promise.”
Sarah went into her room, changed into her nightgown, and climbed into bed. There, she finally released her grief, sobbing into her pillow.
Jamie crawled up the ladder to his attic loft and lay in the darkness wondering what he should do. For the first time in his life, there was no one else to turn to. He was facing a crisis alone and he felt responsible for Sarah, since he had promised Jonathan that he would take care of her. He sighed, remembering Dr. Church. The only thing of importance now was to find Jonathan. In the darkness, he swore he would never stop searching until he did.
“After we finish the chores, I’m going to ask Paul Revere to get me into Boston. Boston Neck is closed, and the harbor is filled with British Navy ships, so getting in will not be easy. But if anyone can do it, he can.”
Sarah declared, “I’m coming with you.”
Jamie shook his head, “It may not be safe-“
“Did you not promise my father that you’d watch out for me? How can you, if you’re in Boston and I’m here alone?” she asked.
Jamie thought a moment, then he nodded.
“All right. We’ll go together. We’ll have to ask the Richardsons to take care of the animals while we’re away. We may need to stay overnight.”
“Why are we going to Boston?” she asked.
“To see Mrs. Gates. I think she may help us. She seems like a good lady, and she may be able to find out if he was taken prisoner by the British. They keep lists of such things.”
“They do?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, now let’s get going. We still have to feed the animals before we go.”
Mrs. Richardson was happy to help them and agreed to send her oldest son to take care of the animals until they returned. When they arrived at the Cook’s house in Watertown, they found Paul Revere in his shirt sleeves wearing an apron, his hands smeared with ink. He had a printing press set up in the Cook’s barn and two apprentices were helping him.
“What’s going on?” asked Sarah.
Revere smiled, “Congress has given me the job of engraving and printing the new American currency. Would you like to see it?”
He proudly displayed a bill which they admired.
Revere asked Jamie, “I hear you’re a talented fellow. Are you interested in helping me? I could use some help with the engraving.”
Jamie replied, “I’ve never done any engraving before.”
“Oh, it’s not so difficult,” Revere shrugged, “You draw on a copper plate, like this one here, by etching out the design. See?”
He showed them the engraved plates used to print the money.
Jamie nodded and said, “Perhaps I can help you later. We’ve come to ask a favor of you. We want to go into Boston. Can you get us there?”
Revere frowned at him, “Boston! Why the devil would you want to go to that Tory-infested snake pit?”
“We’re trying to find my father,” Sarah said, “And Jamie thinks that Mrs. Gates may agree to help us.”
Revere froze; his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened with astonishment.
“Your father is missing?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. He never returned from the battle yesterday, and no one knows where he is.”
“Have you seen Colonel Prescott?” asked Revere.
“Yes, and we’ve checked among the wounded and the dead. We even went into Charlestown to search for him, but he wasn’t there. We’ve asked everyone.”
Revere paled and sat down on an upturned wooden crate, as if dazed.
“My God! I had no idea!" he exclaimed.
“Will you help us get into Boston?” asked Jamie.
He frowned. “It could be very dangerous. You’d have to go at night, on the river.”
“I know,” Sarah nodded, “But I have to try to find him.”
Revere asked Jamie, “This Mrs. Gates…is she the general’s wife?”
“Yes. I met her when I was working in the general's house. She doesn’t know that I’m with the Americans. I think she may help us to find out if he was taken prisoner.”
Paul Revere ran a hand through his hair and stood up. He began to pace as he thought about the situation.
“I wish I could go with you, but I have to get this currency printed. Just finding the paper to print it on is a full-time job. Besides, I promised Rachel that I’d stay clear of Boston since there’s a noose with my name on it waiting for me if I show my face there.”
“We know, and we aren’t asking you to go with us,” Jamie explained, “Just help us to get there.”
Revere nodded, “All right. I can do that. Go home and pack some things, just enough for a couple of days. If you have any money, bring it along. You may need it to bribe some of the soldiers in Boston. And bring a pistol with you if you’ve got one. Come back here tonight at sundown and I’ll take you to someone who can row you down the river and let you off near the Neck. But I must warn you; it’s dangerous. The British have plenty of patrols on the river, but the fog usually comes in at night, and that should help a bit.”
Sarah smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Revere!”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do or not, but it seems to me that if I don’t get you into Boston, you’d find another way that might be even more dangerous.”
Jamie smiled, “You’re probably right. Thank you, sir!”
“See you this evening, at sundown,” Revere nodded.
Table of Contents
Chapter 23: Night Journey
That evening, Mr. Revere led them through the dark streets of Watertown to the riverfront. There, sitting in a rowboat next to the dock, sat Thomas Pulling, another member of the Sons of Liberty. They climbed into the boat and Paul Revere gave it a push, wishing them luck as they drifted away. They slid silently on the swiftly flowing current, leading out to the harbor and the sea.
When darkness fell, the river became a strange and eerie place. As they glided along, crickets kept up a steady whine accented by gulping bullfrogs. Unseen creatures rustled in the tall cat tails. A fish splashed, and Sarah jerked suddenly, grabbing Jamie’s arm.
Fog materialized as the air above the river grew colder, and mists swirled around them like evil spirits. Across the water, they heard men’s voices, and a clanging bell.
“What’s that?” whispered Sarah, nervously.
“British ships and patrol boats in the harbor,” Mr. Pulling answered quietly, “But I know my way around this river like my own house. Now keep quiet and try not to make any noise.”
They glided soundlessly through the fog. Dim lights of distant ships penetrated the mist, but their own boat was invisible in the dark.
Before leaving, Thomas had tied rags around the oars to silence them. He took long, slow strokes to avoid splashing. Glancing over his shoulder from time to time, Jamie saw moving lights, blurred by fog.
A man’s laughter echoed across the water, sounding very near, and the boat’s wake reverberated, as if they were inside a cave. Only when they were close enough to touch the wooden hull did Jamie realize that they were directly below the stern of a British Navy ship. No one on board would be able to see them, but it made him nervous being so close to the black snub-nosed cannons above their heads. Soon the ship faded into the mist and they were out in the open waters again.
They rowed through the mist beneath a British ship and past two British seamen in a boat.
Suddenly, voices came again. Thomas turned the boat sharply, letting it glide, not daring to make a sound. Jamie and Sarah sat perfectly still as they listened to two men in a nearby boat, marked only by the dim glow from their lantern.
“Them buggars won’t likely be botherin’ us again!” one man said.
“Aye, they be home now, wonderin’ what hit ‘em!” replied the other man, and they both chuckled.
“Eh! You hear somethin’?” asked one.
There was a pause in their rowing and they both listened. Sarah could feel her heart pounding as she held her breath.
One man said, “Naw, it’s jus’ the ships, most likely. It be quiet here tonight.”
“Aye. Not a soul would be out in this muck ‘cept us two. If it weren’t me duty, I wouldn’t be out here neither.”
“Naw, me neither. Bone-chillin’ damp, it be,” grumbled his partner as their voices faded into the darkness.
Sarah let out a long breath as her heart thudded in her ears.
Ten minutes later, a massive black pier em
erged from the fog and the rowboat slid up to a crude ladder.
Thomas whispered hoarsely, “You go up here, but look out for guards. This will bring you out near the back of Orange Street, just past the Neck. Go straight across from the pier, and you’ll see some houses. Go right at the end to Orange Street.”
Jamie gave Thomas a handshake.
“Thank you, Thomas. Come back here for us tomorrow night, between eleven and midnight.”
Thomas nodded, “I’ll be here, unless I get caught. But I ain’t been caught yet,” he grinned.
Jamie climbed up the ladder and peered over the edge of the dock. No one was there, and the fog was too thick to see more than twenty feet. He climbed upon the dock and then helped Sarah up. Mr. Pulling waved and the boat disappeared into the fog.
They headed up to Orange Street. When they reached the corner, they saw British soldiers under the lights of the gate house on Boston Neck. They turned away and walked up Orange Street to Newberry Street.
They had decided earlier to go to Mr. Roberts’ house and ask him if they might stay there for the night. The night was chilly and damp, and only a few taverns were still open. Walking in pairs, soldiers patrolled the foggy streets.
Jamie and Sarah soon arrived at Mr. Roberts’ house. Although the windows were dark, they knocked on the front door and waited. When there was no response, Jamie said, “I’ll go knock on his bedroom window.”
Sarah nodded and waited at the front door in case Mr. Roberts appeared.
Soon, a dim light appeared in the window. Sarah could hear footsteps approaching the front door, and when Jamie returned, Mr. Roberts appeared in his flannel nightgown and nightcap, holding a flickering candlestick.
“Good Heavens! What are you two doing here? It’s the middle of the night!”
“Sorry to wake you, Mr. Roberts, but we have an emergency,” Jamie said.
“Come in! Come in!” Mr. Roberts cried. The flickering candle threw eerie shadows around the dark room, and the hearth was black and cold.