I gleaned what I could, and the news was big. General Gage was being recalled to England, and General Howe was to take his place. Stockdale spoke of reinforcements presently on their way to Boston—five or six regiments of regulars at one thousand soldiers each, and one thousand marines. They were expected before winter, and Stockdale was sure Howe would use them to end the rebellion once and for all.
The next morning I set out to find barber Newell. Surely he would want to bring this information to General Washington. If the Patriots were to attack the town, they would have to do so before the reinforcements arrived.
The barber’s shop was closed up tight. Had he been arrested? Was he in the Patriot camp? I feared asking his neighbors. If any of them were Loyalists and knew of his secret activities, I would expose myself as a spy. I went back the next morning and again found the same locked door. The same empty house.
If General Washington was to get this news, I would have to bring it to him myself.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Between Two Armies
Two armies stood between me and General Washington. The British and the Patriots. I turned over the ways I might sneak into the Patriot camp while I filled my buckets at the pump. The British had stopped issuing passes to fishing boats on the suspicion that fishermen carried information to the Patriots. I could not ask Colonel Stockdale for a pass. There was no reason for me to go to the country.
Mother was washing the breakfast things when I returned. I added water from one of my buckets to the pot that hung over the fire and set to work helping her.
“Did you see your friend this morning?” she asked.
I shook my head. The back door was open to let in the warm September sunshine. We could not speak freely. “I hoped to post a letter to my friend, but it appears as if I will have to pay a visit instead.”
Mother’s brow wrinkled with concern. She checked the tavern to make sure it was empty, then closed the back door.
“It is too dangerous, Daniel,” she said.
I pretended to be braver than I was. “I have no choice. The barber is not about. I have to get this information to General Washington.”
“How will you get there?” she asked.
“I will have to make my own pass and go across the Neck.”
She shook her head. “What if you are caught?”
“I will have a pass granting me the freedom to cross the Neck. No one will know it is a forgery.” I wanted to sound certain, but my voice quivered.
“This war will be the death of all of us,” she said.
My voice was stronger now. “No. It won’t be the death of me. Or of Father.” I wasn’t as sure as I pretended to be. I felt I had no choice, and I didn’t want Mother to worry any more than was necessary.
That afternoon luck was with me. All the officers were out. I crept into the colonel’s room and used his own quill and ink to write myself a pass. Master Richardson had taught me well. My hand was sure and strong, like an English gentleman’s. Inside, I quivered like a frightened baby.
Once again Mother replaced my buttons with coins. She and our hired man would serve the officers while I slipped away. I would not be missed.
It was nearing dark when I took my leave. Mother let me pretend that I shivered from the cold and not from fear. In return, I pretended not to notice the tears in her eyes.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I whispered, kissing her on the cheek.
“God be with you, Daniel,” she said, her voice husky.
I slipped out into the night and made my way to Orange Street and the Neck. The British fortifications were in view. I patted my pocket to make sure the pass was still there.
A guard trained his musket on me as I approached. Two more stood near but made no move toward us.
“Urgent business on behalf of the general,” I said, trying to sound like Colonel Stockdale. I waved my pass in the air and kept walking.
“Not so fast.” He lowered his musket and took the pass. “Which general?” he asked, scanning the paper.
I realized he could not read.
“Howe,” I said, trying to take the pass from him again. My hand trembled like an old woman’s.
He held his arm out of my reach and narrowed his eyes. “Why would General Howe send a child into enemy territory on urgent business?”
“Because,” I sputtered, “a man would raise too much suspicion.”
The other guards edged nearer, alerted by the tone of the soldier’s voice. I thought to run, but the pass held Stockdale’s signature. If I left it behind, he would surely learn that I had forged it.
“What’s the problem, Barker?” one of the soldiers asked.
Barker’s attention shifted just for a second. I snatched the pass from his hand and ran as fast as I could.
“Stop!”
“Halt!”
A musket fired, and then another, but I kept running. Something hit my shoulder. A bullet whistled past my ear. I remembered Mother’s words. “This war will be the death of all of us,” and how I had promised her I would be careful. Now I was going to die like that soldier on the side of the road, alone.
My side ached and my legs felt like they were about to give out. I ran until I couldn’t run one step more and threw myself behind a bush. I didn’t know if the guards followed. I lay there trembling and tried to gather my wits. I heard them running and tried to quiet my breath, but my lungs could not take in enough air. Could they not hear my loud panting?
My shoulder burned. My fingers found a hole in my jacket but no blood. The bullet had only grazed me. My chest heaved with relief for a moment, but footsteps rustled in the grass quite near. I closed my eyes and strained to hear voices above the night sounds, sure the Redcoats would find me any moment. I fortified myself for the shot that would end my life. Mother had been right. I would die in the war.
A soldier came very near. I lay as still as a statue, and he moved in another direction.
“He’s disappeared,” one of the soldiers said.
“Just a scared boy anyway,” another answered. “There’s no harm in him. Let’s go.”
My body was stiff and sore from laying in one place for so long. My head hurt from listening so hard. I got to my knees and then my feet, looking for Redcoats. But they had truly gone.
My hide was intact, but I felt I had lost all my courage. Even so, it would be more dangerous to try and sneak back into Boston now than to keep going. I broke into a steady run.
Too late, I saw a flash. The next thing I knew, my hat was blown off.
I hit the ground with a cry and clutched the top of my head. Slowly I moved my hands in front of my eyes. I blinked in the darkness. I could hardly believe it, but there was no blood. Footsteps came near, running through the brush.
“It’s only a boy!”
I lay with my face in the dirt, afraid to look at them, but their boots were not black and shiny. They were not British.
“Get up, child, and state your business,” said another voice.
He pulled on my arm and I stood, shaking.
There were two of them—those wild men Father had warned me about. One had black hair and round, black eyes like the end of a musket. He looked like a devil. The other had lighter hair and was more human.
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, gulping for air. “I have to see my Father and General Washington,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “I come from Boston.”
The human one held my cap. “I told you not to shoot,” he said to the black-haired devil. “The captain will have your hide.”
He shrugged. “I aimed to miss.”
“You almost didn’t,” said the other, sticking his finger through the hole in my cap. I had come that close to dying.
After a search for weapons I did not have, they asked what my business was with General Washington.
“I have information of British plans,” I said.
“What information?” the devil asked.
I feared re
fusing, but I did not know these men. “I will not tell you. My information is for General Washington.”
They snorted with laughter but escorted me to an officer. He laughed as well, but made sure I had a soldier escort. It wasn’t until I was near Cambridge that another officer gave me leave to go on alone. I was glad to be rid of them and their snickering.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A Spy Revealed
I made my way to headquarters as quickly as I could without breaking into a run and giving anyone else cause to shoot me. It felt like days had passed since I had said good-bye to Mother, but the sun was just coming up. I did not warm to the idea of being laughed at again, or shot at again, and so I skirted the town of Cambridge and came up behind the mansion that Dr. Church, the army’s surgeon general, claimed as his headquarters.
I spotted Master Richardson peering out of Dr. Church’s back door. I was about to call out to him when he signaled to someone. A man I didn’t know ran forward and took a sheaf of papers from him before running off again. The schoolmaster slipped back into the house.
I continued on my way, coming to the front of Dr. Church’s house just as Master Richardson left by the front door.
“Daniel,” he exclaimed, looking alarmed at my appearance. “Where did you come from?”
“I have news for General Washington,” I said. “I forged a pass.”
His eyes settled on the hole in my jacket and the one in my cap.
I could not say more as there was a commotion in front of Washington’s headquarters. A group of officers seemed to be arguing. Dr. Church was at their center, protesting vigorously.
“You find us in an uproar,” the schoolmaster told me. “Dr. Church has been discovered writing to the Redcoats in cipher. An army chaplain broke the code. There is no question. Church is a British spy.”
I gaped at him. Dr. Church a spy? He was a Son of Liberty. How could he betray a cause he fought for—a cause he believed in? Josiah’s words came back to me. People change sides with each change in the weather. A body has to be very careful when it comes to trusting another.
“I have just given more coded pages to an aide to be translated.” The schoolmaster eyed me for a reaction, then brought the conversation back to me. “What is this news you have for General Washington?” he asked.
Should I tell him? I looked for Father. He was not on duty in front of headquarters.
“I’d like to talk to my father,” I said weakly. “Or the general.”
He nodded, but his manner was displeased. “Come,” he commanded.
I followed him into the house and stood behind him when he knocked on a door. I recognized Washington’s powerful voice. “Enter.”
Master Richardson stepped in. Men I took to be officers surrounded the general.
“Sir, I regret to say that someone has already been through his papers,” the schoolmaster said. “There is nothing to shed light on any other activities, or to damage him further.”
“Thank you, that will be all.”
“Ah,” Master Richardson moved aside. “You have a visitor.”
“Why have you brought me this boy?” General Washington asked. “I am much too busy now.”
He did not know me. My shock and fear and relief in my safety all rolled into one and I burst into tears, weeping like a child. I was deeply ashamed, but I could not stop.
“He is Prescott’s son—the boy from Boston.”
The general’s expression softened. He drew me into the room and quickly took charge. “Master Richardson, go and find his father. Sergeant, lay a fire. The boy is cold.”
There was a sudden bustle of activity. My sobs settled to whimpers and soon I had control of myself again. Someone handed me a tankard of ale, and I drank it down in gulps.
His Excellency eyed me gravely. He reached forward and took my cap, poking his finger through the musket hole. Then Father rushed into the room and General Washington bid everyone else to leave us.
Father knelt in front of my stool and kissed my forehead, right in front of the general. Normally I would have told him that I was too old for kisses, but in truth I felt better for his having done it.
“Mother and Sarah are fine,” I told Father before saying anything else. “Sarah has not gotten the pox—indeed, none in the tavern have gotten the disease.”
“That’s fine, Daniel,” Father said.
I turned to General Washington. Suddenly I was afraid. Would he call me a child, too? Laugh at me? “I have news of the British. General Gage has been recalled to London. Stockdale thinks Howe will attack you as soon as reinforcements arrive—they are on the way to Boston even now.”
The General thanked me. Father stood with a sigh.
I had risked my life for this moment, but neither the general nor Father seemed much impressed with my news. “I have brought you coins,” I told Father. “My buttons.”
He nodded, and it was then that he noticed the bullet hole in my jacket. His eyes got wide, and when he turned to say something to the general he saw the twin hole in my cap, still resting on the general’s finger.
“Daniel, why didn’t you go to Master Richardson’s friend—the barber?” Father asked.
“He wasn’t there. Two days he wasn’t there,” I explained. “I didn’t know what to do, so I came myself. I forged a pass. Only the British shot at me, and then the wild men shot my cap off.”
“Barber Newell? Is he your contact?” General Washington asked.
I nodded.
“He was here in camp,” the general said. “He returns to Boston this morning.”
“Daniel, I forbid you to come back to camp,” Father told me. “No matter what. If you can’t get your information to the barber or to someone else we trust, then the Continental army will have to go on without it. Win or lose.”
I expected the general to protest, but he did not.
“Daniel, your father is right. Do you not think I have other spies in Boston? Other ways of getting information?”
I hadn’t thought, but of course the general would have many spies.
“You are the second person to bring me this news.”
I slumped into the chair. He already knew. Had I risked my life for nothing?
“I am very grateful to have this information confirmed, but it’s not worth your young life. Obey your father. You must keep yourself safe.” General Washington regarded me seriously. “Promise me, Daniel.”
“I promise, sir.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. I thought my work was important. I thought it could mean the difference between liberty and tyranny, between Father’s life and Father’s death. I had not thought that I was merely one of many. A boy to be chuckled over by wild men while the real spies, like Master Richardson and the barber, did their work.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Curious Rescue
I slept through most of the morning and spent the afternoon in camp with Father. Just before dark, we learned of the general’s plan for my return to Boston. The barber had left the morning I arrived, so I needed another guide. I was to be rowed across the water and around north Boston at high tide and under the cover of darkness.
Father made me promise again and again that I would not try to return to camp no matter how important my information. I swore that I would obey. He gave me a letter for Mother, in which he told her the same thing. I wondered when I would see him again. Mayhap he wondered, too. He took me by the shoulders and stared into my face as if to burn it into his memory.
“You are a good boy, Daniel,” he said. “I know that Mother and Sarah are safe with you.”
Tears welled in my eyes and I pressed my lips together to keep from crying.
He kissed me on the forehead, and I buried my face in his chest for a moment. Then I left with my guide to Boston.
The plan seemed a dangerous one, but I soon learned that the man, whose name I was never told, had often made this very same trip. At water’s edge we climbed into a small boat. The oars were wrapped i
n fabric to muffle their sound, and we pushed off into the water.
I was warned not to speak. Once or twice the man motioned me to duck as we made our silent way across the water. I was grateful for the clouds that hid the moon and the stars, keeping us from British eyes. We came right alongside a British ship. The sound of our oars slipping into the water suddenly seemed as loud as musket fire to my ears. I steeled myself as I listened for shouts, followed by bullets. But none came.
Finally we pulled up right under Hunts Wharf, where the man secured the boat. He put a finger on his lips to signal continued silence as he led me to Lynn Street with a hand on my arm. When we reached the street he turned his head in every direction. Satisfied that no one lurked nearby, he nodded.
“Go straight home,” he said.
I took a few steps, and then thought to express my gratitude. But when I turned to whisper my thanks, he was already gone.
I arrived home to another uproar. Our hired man had never arrived the evening before. Mother was only told that he was missing. Many a common soldier had slipped away in the nights since the siege began.
I had left my hat behind in the Patriot camp so that the bullet hole would not trouble Mother, but there was naught I could do about my coat. I was grateful for the busyness of the night. She had no time for questions. As soon as she was assured of my safety and Father’s, she handed me clean tankards to carry into the taproom. I didn’t even have time to remove my coat.
Mr. Henshaw had dined with the colonel, a rare happening, and stayed to play cards. I was pouring rum for the two of them when Colonel Stockdale’s eyes flicked to my missing buttons.
“What have you been up to?” he asked.
I pretended not to understand his meaning. “Searching for a fisherman willing to sell a fresh fish for your dinner tomorrow,” I said. “There was none to be had.”
He pointed to my chest. “Did you try to pay with buttons?”
Mr. Henshaw chuckled. I glared at him. I had been laughed at enough. “I fought with another boy.” I looked over my shoulder and then whispered, “Don’t tell Mother, she’ll have my hide, sir.”
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