by Becky Akers
He wiggled his toes to check for his papers. His spine tingled at the thought that freedom’s fate reclined in his shoe. Last night he dreamed he was crossing a bridge. He slipped and fell into the water, and the papers he took dripping from his pump turned to love notes from Mrs. Wyckoff. His face had gone scarlet as His Excellency read them before his brigade. But now they were within a mile of the ferry, half a day’s ride from Continental lines after they disembarked, with his mission an outstanding success....
A faint drumming reached him. Nathan lifted his head. Ally was laughing, insisting that not only would their first son be named for him, but their second also, when he held up a hand for silence. Those were definitely hoofbeats, and they were heading this way. Sweat broke on his forehead. It might not be Redcoats, and even if it were, they might not be after him. He sprang to the edge of the trees and saw five horsemen cresting a rise a mile distant, two wearing scarlet, two in blue Hessian uniforms. Their bayonets glittered in the sun. The lead rider, a civilian it seemed, pointed to the roan, cropping grass by the road. The wind drowned his shout, but he had clearly identified Nathan’s horse.
Oh, God, help me, he prayed frantically. “Ally, come on! No, leave everything. Just come.”
Nathan vaulted onto the horse, pulled Alice up behind him, and gave the roan her head. She tore down the road, lengthening her stride joyously. The roan loved a morning gallop, and she entered into this one wholeheartedly. Still, they could not elude the men behind them for long. No telling how long they had been riding at such a pace, but even if their mounts were exhausted, each man rode separately. His would tire quickly, carrying two.
Nathan’s thoughts flew with the horse’s hooves, seeking a way out. He must shake them before reaching the ferry. Unless it were pulling away as he and Alice boarded, their pursuers would follow them onto the barge. His best bet lay in the woods lining the road. They would ride as far as they could through the undergrowth, then dismount and run for the ferry. The forest extended to the water’s edge. Continuing in this direction should take them to the landing and lose the soldiers.
“Ally,” he shouted over his shoulder, “ready to run? I’m going to turn the horse into the trees there. When I say to, get off and run.”
“You mean with you?”
“Yes, with me. I’m not waiting around for them!”
They were gaining. He heard shouted commands, though they weren’t yet close enough to decipher the words. They were further from the ferry than he liked, but the roan was slowing. Nathan flicked the reins, and the horse trotted into the trees.
“Stay low,” Nathan said as branches whipped past. When they were hidden from the road, he halted the roan and pushed Alice to the ground, tumbling after. He slapped the animal’s rear to send it north while he and Alice ran west. They crashed through the brush, Nathan keeping one ear cocked for noises behind them. Alice tripped and sprawled on her face. Nathan helped her up, clasping her to him, his hand over her mouth. Then it came to him: the sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves.
“It worked, Nathan,” she whispered. “They’re heading away from us to chase the horse.”
But the din was half what it should be, and his heart stopped. They had split up. Were some fetching reinforcements? Or had they galloped up the road to cut them off?
“Come on, Ally. We’ve got to make that ferry.” He grabbed her hand to resume their dash, his eyes hunting uniforms in the green gloom ahead.
The woods began to thin. They were approaching the water and the ferry, he hoped. He slowed to a walk and peered out from the trees. There was the river with the road beside it, but they must still be north of the ferry. They should continue southwest, hugging cover, until they sighted the boathouse and landing.
They had taken only two steps when a voice to their left drawled, “Well, Captain Hale, that was quite a valiant effort.” A musket cradled in his arms, dressed in buff and brown, Guy Daggett moved out of the trees in front of them.
“Guy!” Alice’s cry pierced the woods. “Oh, thank God, Guy. You can help us! There’s Redcoats after us!”
“Ally,” Nathan said softly, “be quiet.”
“Yes, Ally,” Guy said, mocking him. “The brave Captain Hale wouldn’t beg help from anyone, even when he’s out of uniform behind enemy lines.”
She looked from one to the other, puzzled. “But, Guy, you said—I thought—Oh!” Understanding jolted her, twisting her face. When she spoke, it was in a wondering whisper. “Truly, I—I never knew, never even guessed, that evil like this—that it could exist—”
“Like what?” Guy sneered. “Like a man spying against his government? Lying and—and spying and—”
“’Twas all a lie, wasn’t it?” Her voice was stronger now, but flat and hard. “You never meant any of the things you said. You’re not going to enlist, you—you don’t care about—You set the Redcoats on us, didn’t you?”
“On him, Alice, not you.” He waved the musket at Nathan.
She clasped her hands, knuckles as white as her face. “I’ll do anything you say, Mr. Daggett. I swear it! Please, just let him go!”
Guy covered them with the gun, clutching it in one hand while fishing through his pocket with the other. “Good to hear, Alice. Tell you what I want you to do. You take this rope and tie Romeo’s hands behind him, nice and tight, because I’m going to check it when you’re done. He’s a spy, Alice, and a liar, not the honorable, noble man you think he is.” Guy tossed the rope to her.
Nathan dived for Guy, knocked the musket aside.
Guy reflexively pulled the trigger. The ball sailed through the leaves overhead but did no damage beyond alerting the soldiers. Then the two men were on the ground, rolling over and over.
Alice scrabbled for the gun. It wouldn’t fire until she primed and reloaded, and it was so heavy she struggled to lift it, but she felt better holding it.
Nathan maneuvered Guy into a headlock and was wondering what to do with him when Alice cried, “Redcoats! They’re coming, Nathan!”
“The musket, Ally. Give it to me!”
She held it out to him, barrel first. In one motion, Nathan released his opponent, rolled to his feet, grabbed the gun, and tapped Guy, trying to catch his breath, on the head with the stock. Guy slumped to the ground.
Nathan tossed the weapon aside and ran again with Alice through the trees. Their pursuers were a few paces behind them, but the discovery of Guy stopped them, as he had hoped. “Sir? Sir!” Their attempts at revival echoed after Nathan and Alice as they raced for the ferry.
They broke from the forest into the clearing ten minutes later. The Hessians sat their horses near the boathouse, watching the boarding, their backs to them. A man stood with the ferry-master at the top of the landing’s stairs, counting out his fare. Three farmers, two of them with their wives, and eight or ten British officers were already aboard. They were studying the smoke hanging over New York City, speculating on the size of the fire that was sending up such clouds and wondering what had started it.
Nathan examined the ferry, a barge with a single mast and sail as well as six boatmen with long oars. They must get aboard, must reach New York and their lines, fire or no. They dared not wait for the next boat; he doubted they could duck Guy and his British friends that long. He did not fancy crossing with the enemy, but there was no help for it.
Another farmer hurried down the road from town. One of the Hessians dismounted and strolled over to him. He pushed the man’s hat off his head to peruse his face, as if he knew what his quarry looked like.
But he doesn’t, Nathan thought, then despaired as the fellow brushed the hair from his forehead to show it free of a powder-burn’s scars.
The farmer stooped for his hat and walked toward the gangplank. One of the boatmen picked up a conch shell. He was joking with his fellows, and laughing, while he slowly raised the shell to blow departure, and Nathan put his lips to Alice’s ear. “Don’t say a word. Just smile, all right? Come on.”
The conch’s growl reverberated over the landing. Nathan grasped Alice’s hand and darted from the trees. “Schnell! Schnell!” he shouted. “Herr Captain, wait! The woman, she slows me down!”
The Hessians looked at each other. Nathan ran with Alice past the mounted one, but his partner on the ground was not so easily fooled.
“Slow down, my friend,” he said in German. “A spy, that is what we are seeking. Where did you come from? You have perhaps seen a suspicious man?”
“Nein.” Nathan shook his head. He looked longingly at the boat as would a Dutch farmer, anxious to reach town. Alice, smiling beside him, tried to act as if she were following the conversation though she spoke no German.
The Hessian’s eyes rested on her. “This woman, she is your wife?”
“Ja. You boys are far from home.” He was desperate to turn the talk from Alice.
“Ja, my friend, she recalls to me my sister.”
From the road came the drum of hooves. Nathan did not glance over his shoulder nor allow concern to tangle his features. But they must push off soon—and they had yet to pay their fares.
The Hessian heard the hoofbeats too, and his face darkened. “Slave-drivers,” he muttered. “A caning, that is what these English gave me last time for talking with a friend.” He waved them to the ferry stairs.
Nathan forced himself to walk, not run, to the landing, though the hooves thundered until he was sure the Redcoats would burst upon them that moment.
He dug sixpence from his pocket, dropping a coin in his haste. “For the lady,” he told the ferry-master. He bent to retrieve the penny, but his fingers were shaking badly, and he had to try twice before he picked it up.
The horsemen were closing on them. He heard a whinny over the thudding of the hooves and his heart as he thrust a hand into another pocket, hunting money for his passage.
“Go ahead on board, mister,” the man said. “I’ll get your fare later. Got to sail afore them soldiers get here and want a free ride offa me.”
They stepped onto the barge. The oarsmen shoved off, and Guy exploded into view, Redcoats flanking him. Nathan pushed Alice ahead of him as he sauntered toward the front of the vessel. They could not lose themselves in the little group, but if he could keep the officers and the flapping sail between them and Guy—
“Stop! Come back!” Guy shrieked from shore. “That man’s a spy! He’s a captain in the rebel army.” He waded into the river as the boatmen dipped their oars and the barge surged forward.
But his screams attracted the officers’ notice. The senior man, a colonel, drifted to the rear of the craft. He shouted to Guy, who was now waist-deep, “What do you mean? Who’s a spy?”
“That tall fellow there. His forehead’s got a powder-burn on it. His name’s Nathan Hale.”
The colonel pivoted. His eyes scanned the passengers to rest on Nathan. Nathan returned his gaze frankly, even nodded to him.
“Stop the boat,” the colonel told the ferry-master.
One of the farmers said, “Now, look here—,” but the colonel’s glare silenced him.
The colonel crossed the deck to stand before Nathan. “Lift your hair.” He pointed to his forehead.
There was nothing for it but to comply. As he exposed the scar, Nathan said with a disarming smile, “Had an accident as a boy, Colonel, but that’s not against the law, I hope.”
Guy had reached the boat to heave himself aboard, dripping muddy water. The others shrank from him and left a path to Nathan, Alice, and the colonel. Guy stalked across the barge, a lump rising on the side of his head. “Search him, Colonel. He’s a spy, I tell you. He’s a captain in the rebel army.”
Nathan raised his brows at the colonel as if to say, “So many madmen abroad nowadays, wouldn’t you agree?” But his grip on Alice’s hand tightened.
The colonel smiled at her. “Ma’am, wait over there, please, with Captain Hurley. Captain, lady’s to be considered detained for the moment.” The officer saluted and took her by the arm. The eyes of both Nathan and Guy followed her.
“Now, lad,” the colonel said, “have to ask you to strip. The rest of you men, form a line here in front of him to shield the ladies.” The officers crowded close, and some produced their side-arms. Guy came even closer, determined that Hale should pull no more tricks.
“Your coat.” The colonel held out his hand, and Nathan shrugged out of the garment. The colonel rifled the pockets, while Nathan unbuttoned his waistcoat, trying to act as if this were only a misunderstanding and easily set right, with him eager to do his part.
He meant to hand the waistcoat to an officer, but Guy snatched it. He nearly ripped it as he turned its pockets inside out and crumpled it between his hands for papers concealed in the lining.
The colonel found his diploma and squinted as he unfolded it. “Nathan Hale, class of ’73.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s not a German name.”
“English, actually.”
“Yet you acted like you was German to the Hessians.”
“Just practicing my German, sir.” He flashed his easy smile. “I don’t often have the chance.”
He put his hand to the collar of his linen, wondering whether he could protest now that they were getting down to skin, but the colonel ordered, “Your shoes, and then your breeches.”
The game was up, unless they only glanced at his shoes. He tried for nonchalance, tried to steady his hands and show no dread, as he bent to pull off his shoes.
“Colonel,” Guy said, “he’s carrying anything, he probably gave it to the girl. There’s less chance you’d search her. I—I could do it. We were betrothed once. Might not be as awkward if I—”
“We need it, there’s women aboard can search her for us.” The colonel held out his hands for the shoes.
Don’t watch him. Just start on your breeches. Nathan unbuttoned the knees.
Guy reached for a shoe.
It was a low-heeled pump, buckled over the tongue, well-made, fashionable, the sort a handsome and confident man would wear. But its supple sole was too thin to hide a bulge. Guy plunged a hand inside. The colonel had tossed its mate back to Nathan and was waiting for his breeches, while he fumbled with the buttons at their waist, when a shout froze them both.
“Ha! I knew it. There’s papers here! I told you so.” Guy pulled the sheets from beneath the lining, tearing one in his haste.
There were four pages, closely written front and back. Guy waved them victoriously while officers grabbed Nathan by either arm. The colonel shot him a sympathetic look. He seemed almost reluctant as he snatched the papers from Guy and hissed, “You fool, you’ll drop them overboard, and then where’ll we be?” With another glance at Nathan, he smoothed the pages between his hands.
Guy peered over the colonel’s shoulder as they browsed the notes with open mouths. But when they reached the maps of the fortifications, with battalions and armaments listed, the colonel’s lips came together in a thin line, and Guy glowed with triumph.
Finally, slowly, the colonel raised his eyes to Nathan’s. “What’s the language? German?”
“No, sir, Latin.”
“Colonel, this man’s my prisoner—” Guy began, but the officer whirled on him.
“I’ve had about enough out of you! Maybe he’s your prisoner, but right now he’s in my custody, and I’ll be delivering him to General Howe. You tag along to headquarters if you want, and tell the general your story there. If he’ll listen to it, which I doubt.” Guy stood shaking and speechless, and the colonel turned his back on him to face Nathan. “Sorry to be the one to do this, lad, you seem a fine boy to me. Captain Meadows, fetch some rope to secure the prisoner’s hands. Lieutenant Welker, tell the boatmen to shove off for New York with all speed. Mr. Hale—”
“Sir, I hold the rank of captain in the Continental Army.”
The colonel shook his head, speaking so softly that only Nathan heard. “Lad, can’t call you anything but Mister. King and Parliament says
you’re not an army but just a collection of rabble, so there’s no rank to be had.”
Captain Meadows returned with a length of rope and handed it to the colonel. “Mr. Hale, you carrying any weapons?”
“Just a penknife, sir.”
When the colonel had confiscated that, he told him to turn around and hold his hands behind him. Nathan hesitated as the wind buffeted them, gulls flashed white against the water, and farmers peered curiously between the Redcoats surrounding him. He had never been trussed before, nor rendered so helpless.
“Come on, lad,” the colonel murmured. “Don’t make me get rough with you.”
He fought his panic as the rope bit his wrists.
When the colonel had finished with the knot, he swiveled Nathan to face him. “The girl. She your wife?”
“No, sir. We’re only betrothed. I give you my word of honor she’s innocent in this.”
“I expected no less.” The colonel nodded at his chivalry. “She’s free to go when we land. Captain Meadows, Lieutenant Welker, guard the prisoner. He can sit or move about, whatever he wants. Just don’t let him near the side of the boat.”
Alice stood with Captain Hurley gripping her elbow, silent as Nathan had commanded. She had craned to see behind the wall of the officers’ backs but could not. Though she heard voices, Nathan’s strong, clear one, and the colonel’s deeper bass, she could not tell what they said over the wind and the snapping sail. Only the colonel’s testy words to Guy carried, and her heart shattered at them. “Prisoner...General Howe...headquarters....” They might as well have been “Nathan will die.” Please, God, please, God, she prayed, until it became a chant, the words meaningless.
The officers hiding Nathan parted, and she saw him captive between two of them, waistcoat hanging open and arms bound behind. She swayed and would have stumbled but for the captain’s hand bracing her. The colonel walked over and bowed to her. “Ma’am, lad says you had no part in his treason. That so?”
Nathan was watching from between his guards. He winked, and tears clogged her throat. “Please, Colonel, what—what’ll happen to him?”