For a while, she watched nervously for boats of marines to come from the men-of-war. They never came.
When all the tea had been dumped, the “Indians” finally left the ships. They lined up, four in a row. Just like soldiers, Kate thought, so tired now that she felt like collapsing. They rested their axes on their shoulders the same way soldiers rested their rifles. Someone played a tune on a fife.
The tea destroyers marched down the wharf toward town. Kate spotted Harry again, and Colin must have seen him, too, because he lunged toward his brother, keeping a tight hold on Kate’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other. Colin grinned as he kept up with the “Indians,” who were now humming the cheerful tune the fife played, and Kate found that she couldn’t help but smile as well. Now that everything was over, she almost wished she and Colin had joined Harry. It couldn’t have been so bad after all, since even the Loyalists and British marines hadn’t tried to stop it. Surely no one would be arrested. It would have been exciting to be part of it.
The marching men reached the head of Griffin Wharf, where buildings lined the street at the edge of the harbor. Wood squeaked against wood as a window opened. Kate looked up just in time to see a man shove his head out the window above them. Admiral Montague of the British marines! He’d watched the whole thing!
Kate stopped in her tracks so fast that the man behind her ran right into her. She didn’t even notice.
“Well, boys,” the admiral said, “you’ve had a nice night for your Indian caper, haven’t you? But mind, you’ve got to pay the fiddler yet.”
One of the “Indians” made a cocky reply. The admiral slammed the window closed.
The men started marching again. Kate’s thoughts spun as she followed. She wasn’t smiling now. The admiral’s words made her sick to her stomach with fear. How would the admiral make Harry and the tea raiders “pay the fiddler”?
“We’d best get home, Colin,” she said with a sigh. She was suddenly so exhausted that she thought her legs might give out beneath her.
“I didn’t realize it was so late,” Colin said as they threaded their way through the crowded streets toward Kate’s house. “It must be after nine o’clock. I’ll walk you home. You shouldn’t be on the streets alone this late.”
“Mama will be furious I’m still out.” Kate sighed again. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed. She didn’t want to have to face an angry mother.
But they were barely through the front door when her mother met them in the hallway. Like Kate, Mama was short with blond hair and blue eyes, but she wasn’t slender like her daughter. Usually, Kate felt comforted by her mother’s soft shape, but tonight even Mama’s white apron and crisp skirts seemed to crackle with rage.
“Where have you been, young lady?” Her eyes flashed as she faced the children.
“We were at the meeting at Old South Meetinghouse. You said I could go, remember?”
“That was early this afternoon. You know you’re to be home before dark. Your father is out searching the streets for you.”
“But Mama, you can’t imagine what happened!”
“I’ve been imagining all kinds of dreadful things happening to you!”
“I’ve been with her the whole time, Aunt Rosemary,” Colin spoke up.
“Humph! There are things a boy of thirteen like yourself can’t protect her from.” Mama wrapped her shawl closer about her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have allowed you out of the house today at all, Kate. With the Patriots in such a vile mood over the tea ships and the crowds in the streets—why, I wouldn’t be surprised if we ended up with another Boston Massacre.”
“Oh, no, Mama!” Kate said eagerly. “The British marines didn’t do anything to stop the Indians!”
“Indians?” Mama’s hand flew to her throat.
“Not true Indians,” Kate assured her quickly.
Mrs. Milton shook her head. “I don’t know what you are talking about, child. Colin, you’d best get home. Take a lantern with you. Honestly, out on the streets without even a lantern, among the angry crowds. You both should have known better.”
“Yes, Aunt Rosemary,” Colin murmured, moving past her into the parlor to light a candle for the lantern at the fireplace.
“Don’t think you’re going to get by without being punished for this,” Mama was saying to Kate as Colin slipped out the door.
“But let me tell you about the tea and the Indians,” Kate said as the door closed behind Colin.
She knew Mama had been worried, but she didn’t understand why being worried always made parents angry. As she listened to her mother scold, Kate wondered how things were going for Colin. At least she didn’t have a room full of people listening to her mother reprimand her. Colin would have his older sisters, Isabel, age fifteen, and Susanna, age twenty, as well as Harrison’s wife, Eliza, all pretending not to listen to Aunt Jane’s shrill voice while they worked on their fancy needlework. Harrison and Eliza’s six-month-old baby, Paul, would be asleep in a wooden cradle beside the hearth, and Kate wished she could be there, if only so she could scoop up the round little baby boy and cuddle him in her arms.
Somehow, it helped to imagine Colin’s family now, instead of paying too much attention to the anger in her mother’s voice. Colin’s mother was tall and lean like her brother, Kate’s father. She had red hair like her Irish mother. Right now, Kate was pretty sure her aunt’s green eyes were stormy.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Kate said, pulling her mind back to her own home, “but we just forgot about the time. We wanted to see what happened, and the crowd was so thick—”
“Go to your room, Katherine Milton,” her mother snapped. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
With tears burning her eyes, Kate made her way up to her room. At least she could go to bed now. But she would have liked some supper first.
The next day when she saw Colin, she asked him how things had gone at his house the night before. “Was your mother as angry as mine was?”
Colin grimaced. “More. But she was interrupted before she could really get going.”
Kate raised her eyebrows, waiting for her cousin to explain, and Colin grinned. “You see, this strange ‘Indian’ suddenly came through our back door.”
“You mean Harry?…”
Colin nodded. “Mother didn’t even recognize him until he said, ‘It’s me, Mother.’ And then she wanted to know why he was dressed like that—and why he smelled like tea leaves!”
“Was she upset?” If Aunt Jane had been angry with Colin for being out late, it seemed to Kate that her aunt should have been even angrier with her older son. But Colin shook his head.
“Father came home then—and everyone forgot about me because Harry was telling about the tea party. Ever since the Boston Massacre, you know how my parents have been more sympathetic toward the Patriot cause. Everyone clapped and laughed at Harry’s story.”
Kate tried to imagine it. She was fairly certain that even if Mama weren’t a Loyalist, she would never laugh and clap if Kate broke the law the way Harry had. But Colin’s family was different from hers. That was part of the reason why her cousins fascinated her so much, she supposed.
“And then,” Colin continued, “Harry took off his shoe and shook it. He had tea inside it. And Mother laughed even harder and said how your mother would hate to see good tea going to waste like that.” Colin smiled at the memory. “Mama said she was proud that Harry had stood up for Englishmen’s rights.” He sighed and his smile faded. “But then she said how glad she was that I hadn’t been involved. She’ll never think of me as anything but a little boy.” His voice was resentful.
Kate gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well, you are the baby of the family.”
Colin made a face. “At least Harry doesn’t think I’m a baby. But it’s a good thing Mother doesn’t know he asked us to help with the tea party. She would have been fuming angry then.”
“What did your father say?” Kate asked.
“He warned us all
not to tell anyone that Harry was involved.” Colin’s face puckered with worry. “The marines and constables didn’t arrest anyone last night, but we don’t know what might happen later.”
Kate gave a little shiver. She couldn’t help but remember the admiral’s warning: You’ve got to pay the fiddler yet.
CHAPTER 3
What Happened to Liberty?
King George is making Boston ‘pay the fiddler’ now,” Colin said to Kate early in June. “He’s making all Boston pay, not just those men who threw the tea overboard.” Kate’s mouth bent in a pout.
The peal of bells drifted over the water. All of the churches in Boston had been ringing their bells for hours. Everyone said it was the worst day in Boston’s history.
So many months had passed since the tea party that Kate had hoped the king had forgotten about it. He hadn’t. Finally a ship came from England carrying the Boston Port Bill, a law passed by Parliament. It said that until Boston paid for the tea it dumped into the harbor, Boston’s port would be closed.
From where they stood on Long Wharf, which ran half a mile into Boston Harbor, Kate could see the British man-of-war that was anchored between Long Wharf and Hancock’s Wharf. In all, nine men-of-war were now guarding the harbor from entering ships. No other ships were in the harbor. The warships wouldn’t let small boats, barges, or ferries approach Boston by harbor or river. A boat couldn’t be rowed from one dock to another.
Boston was built on a peninsula that was almost an island. Only a narrow piece of land, called the Neck, connected it to the rest of Massachusetts. With the harbor closed, the Neck was the only way in or out of town.
At least no one had been arrested for the tea party. No one knew for certain who most of the “Indians” were—and no one would tell even if they did know—so no one had been arrested. The day after, Paul Revere had left for Philadelphia and New York to let people there know what had happened. Sons of Liberty in those cities had sent word that they thought Boston had done the right thing.
Hardly anyone was working. People wandered about town, angry and unable to believe what was happening. A soft salt breeze cooled the summer day but did nothing to cool people’s tempers.
Colin and Kate had joined their families in a prayer service at church before coming to the wharf. Loyalists, Patriots, and people who hadn’t chosen sides had been there. Everyone was afraid the port’s closing would leave people without jobs.
Kate shoved a blond curl behind her ear, out of the breeze’s way. “I’ve never seen the wharf so quiet. There’s none of the usual bustle of unloading and loading ships and clerks running about with their ledgers. And none of Uncle Thomas’s merchant ships are in the harbor.”
The king thought that when Boston’s port closed, the other towns would jump at the chance to take business away from Boston. Instead they’d offered to help Boston. Uncle Thomas was in Salem arranging for his ships to land at Salem’s port. His merchandise would have to be shipped over land, which would cost more money and make business more difficult, but it would keep business from stopping altogether.
“Only our enemies’ ships are in our harbor,” Colin’s father had said after the prayer service this morning.
Sparks flew from Dr. Milton’s eyes. “The British fleet isn’t our enemy. Boston is part of England.”
Uncle Jack’s brown eyes grew cold. “Since when does England point cannons at its own people?”
“Since Boston’s people threw someone else’s tea into the harbor.” Kate’s father stared at his brother-in-law, his mouth hard. “Even Ben Franklin sent word from London that the tea party was illegal. He thinks Boston should pay for the tea.”
“Boston’s citizens would sooner starve.”
“I don’t think so. There are lots of Loyalists in town. We don’t want to lose business because of what those involved with the tea party did. With the port closed, it won’t take long for the rest of Boston to come to its senses and pay for the tea.”
“Never!”
Dr. Milton waved an arm toward the shops, countinghouses, and warehouses on the wharf. “Can’t you see that these buildings are closed and their windows shuttered? The men are without work. People won’t be able to buy food or clothing or your newspapers. How are you going to run your print shop?”
“I’ve bought a good supply of paper and ink,” Uncle Jack answered. “I agree things will be rough if people don’t have money to buy newspapers or place advertisements. But there will be news the people need to know, and I aim to print it. I’ll say things with fewer words and use less paper.”
“And when you run out of ink?” Father asked. Kate waited for her uncle’s answer. British law said people in America had to buy all their ink from England.
Uncle Jack crossed his arms. “Then Harry and I will learn to make it ourselves.”
Kate stared at her uncle. Could they really do that?
“Boston will get by,” Uncle Jack continued. “Sons of Liberty in New York and Philadelphia have promised to help us.”
“How?” Kate’s father waved a hand scornfully. “With brave words? The other colonies don’t care about us. Do you think they’ll give Boston fuel, food, and other supplies?”
Kate remembered the picture of the snake her uncle had printed in the newspaper the previous week. Ben Franklin had drawn it many years ago. The snake was in pieces, each piece representing a different colony. The pieces weren’t joined together because the colonies always argued among themselves instead of working together. Beneath the picture, Mr. Franklin had written “Join or Die.” He’d said that if the colonies didn’t work together, they would be like a snake that was cut up into pieces. They would die.
Was Father right? Kate wondered. Wouldn’t the other colonies help Boston?
“Remember what I printed in yesterday’s paper?” Uncle Jack asked. “Colonel George Washington threatened to raise one thousand men and force the British troops from Boston.”
“You wish to see fighting in our streets?” Her father’s face was red from fury.
“No, but I don’t wish to give up our rights as English citizens, either, just to keep peace.”
Kate leaned close to Colin’s ear and whispered, “Our fathers haven’t stopped fighting in years. Why can’t they be friendly like us? You and I don’t always agree, but we don’t argue about it.”
Her father turned to Colin and Kate. “We’d best get back to the apothecary. A doctor’s work doesn’t stop because people can’t pay him. There may be more work than ever for you, Colin. My other apprentice, Johnny, left Boston with his family. You’ll have to take over his duties, too. You can start by weeding the medicine herb garden.”
Father’s long legs set a brisk pace. In her long skirt and petticoat, Kate couldn’t keep up. She was grateful that Colin matched his steps to hers. “I didn’t know Johnny was leaving,” Colin remarked.
Kate lifted her skirts so they wouldn’t be soiled by the puddle they were passing. “He and his family went to Salem. Johnny’s father is looking for a job there.” Kate’s forehead puckered with worry. Johnny’s father was a carpenter who worked in the shipyards. The Port Bill had put him out of work. She would miss Johnny, and she knew Colin would, too. Johnny wanted to be a doctor more than anything. What if he never had the chance again? Kate’s chest ached for him. She couldn’t bear it if Uncle Jack made Colin give up his chance to be a doctor. If only she could have the chance to be a healer, too—but Mama said that midwives could only make a living these days in small villages where no doctor came. No daughter of hers, Mama insisted, was going to end up in the backwoods.
Kate sighed. When Kate was much younger, her mother had taught her to read and write—but now that Kate was older, Mama couldn’t understand why Kate would want to continue to study and learn. After all, Mama said, a girl only needed to be able to read the Bible and do enough writing and arithmetic to keep house. The big medical books in Father’s library fascinated Kate, but Mama said it was a waste of time for Kate
to be always poking her nose into the thick books. Mama didn’t understand how Kate felt about healing. All Mama wanted was for Kate to grow up and get married to some well-off young man.
Kate noticed that many of the houses they passed were empty. Shops were empty and dark, too. They gave her an eerie feeling. Families leaving town passed them with carts and arms piled high with belongings.
Kate’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Johnny’s father said the people who stay in Boston are going to starve. Do you think we’re going to st–starve?”
“Of course not,” Colin said stoutly. “Didn’t you hear Father say the other colonies will help us?”
But would they? Goose bumps ran up Kate’s arms. Who was right—Father or Uncle Jack?
Hours later at the apothecary, Kate watched while Colin held a small marble bowl in one hand and a marble pestle in the other, grinding soft yellow primrose flower petals into powder. Father wanted them for a patient, and Kate knew the primrose would help the woman’s painful hands. The flower’s gentle smell filled the air.
The woman had barely left before off-key singing came through the open door:
“Rally, Mohawks! Bring out your axes, and tell King George we’ll pay no taxes on his foreign tea!”
Father grunted. “You’d think people would be sick of that song about the tea party.”
Kate grinned. She kind of liked the song’s cheery tune, but she knew it got under the skin of Loyalists like her father.
Kate watched as Colin took his journal from the open shelves, where he always kept it handy. The shelves were filled with white jars. Blue letters told what herbs each held. Kate liked the way the apothecary always smelled of dried flowers and herbs. Drawers below the shelves held roots and barks for medicines and curved saws for surgery.
Colin’s quill pen tip scratched across the page as he wrote down what his uncle had told the woman about the primrose. Colin had been an apprentice for almost three years now, and Kate tried hard not to be too jealous of him.
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