by Smith, Skye
"Not Big John. He never sells anything cheap. He'll make me outbid the Newport brothels for her, the skinflint."
"Oye, watcha!" The call was distant. It must have been from another dory.
"Howsa fishin'?" yelled the man closest to the bow.
"Clear off, these is Johan Bee grounds!" came the call from beyond the boat. Britta's heart leapt. The Johan Bee. If only she could see how far away the sloop was.
"Turn to port and keep clear of him. He's a big bugger," said the man closest to her. She felt the dory turn, and then the rowing rhythm began again.
"Here, pass me the lantern. Time to pretend to fish," said the man closest to her. There was a sound of oars being run in and some scraping.
"No, don't light it yet. It will blind us. Let's see what's happening on the Dartmouth first." There was a pause. "Nothing's happening. Something has gone wrong. Take us closer." There was a man standing on the end of the wharf waving to them. They rowed closer until he was standing high above them. "What's up?" the tiller man yelled.
"Them mother effer Northenders ain't showed up yet. You may as well tie up here and wait," the man called down to them.
* * * * *
"Daniel show up yet?" Jon asked Daniel's watcher. The curious crowd was much thinned now but the Northender guard was still around Griffin's wharf .
"No. Any luck at Ede's Shipyard?"
"Found the carriage," said Jon, "but no Britta."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"Well you can tell your men to quit looking for it, for a start." Jon looked around. "Where is everyone?"
"Another town meeting for the body of the people over at the Old South. Bunch of windbags stirring the people up, if you ask me. Nobody ever does... ask me, I mean."
"Listen," said Jon, "I am going to the meeting. When any of your men return, could I get you to send two over to Ede's and keep watch?"
"Ahh, afraid they'll scarper in the carriage?"
"No chance of that. I burned one of the wheels," said Jon.
"Good one," said the watcher, clapping Jon on the shoulder. "Right. First pair that return. To Ede's."
Jon ran to the Old South. It was jammed with people. He tried door after door, trying to come in close to anyone he recognized. Everyone he knew was up on the elevated floor waiting to speak. He pushed his way, and pushed his way, and side-stepped and finally ended up standing next to John Adams. They couldn't hear each other, so John motioned him through a small door behind the speakers.
He told his story and his worries to John in a rush of words all spun together. When he finally stopped, John looked at him and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"I can't help you find Britta right now. With Daniel still with Francis, I am in charge of security. Say that part again about the black faces and destroying the tea." John closed his eyes to concentrate. "Stay here, I am going to get Sam."
Sam listened closely as Jon repeated the story. He had caught his breath now and told the story better.
"Hancock and Revere and the rest of the Northenders are obviously going to destroy the tea tonight. Jon, tea is part of your business at the shop. How do you destroy tea? Burn it?"
Jon thought for a moment. "Well, John Brown burned the Gaspee. I suppose he could burn the tea ships." He shook his head. "No, the Navy would step in and start hanging people, especially if someone died. In the shop we have to keep the tea very dry, else it goes moldy. Every time water is passed through the leaves, the tea is weaker. Wet it. To destroy it, just get it wet. There is a bloody ocean of salt water out there. That would spoil it quickly enough."
"Of course. They are going to dump the leaves overboard," said John.
"Why not the chests?" asked Sam.
"They would do that if they wanted to steal it," said John. "They don't want to steal it, they want to destroy it. They are smugglers. They are holding smuggled tea. The Company may be our political enemy, but the Company is their business enemy."
"I must speak against it to the audience out there," said Sam, "The risks are enormous. The tea is worth a fortune. It would be vandalism on a grand scale. The governor will declare marshal law. All individual rights would be suspended. Habeas Corpus would be suspended. Our party leaders could be arrested and held and beaten. We'd be finished."
"Habeas Corpus?" asked Jon.
"The right to be released from unlawful detention," John explained. Jon still looked confused. "They can't put you in prison without a legal reason."
Sam broke in. "Black faces. Lamp soot. A disguise? The vandals will be disguised?"
"Or maybe so that the black slaves are blamed for it," offered Jon, "or maybe just to help them hide in the night."
"No, just a simple disguise. Cowards the lot of them," sneered Sam Adams. "Well, their cowardliness is how I will turn the people out there against them. The vandals don't have the faith in their task to do it open-faced, and don't have the courage to take any blame for their actions."
"That will do it," said John, "go, go and convince the mob to stop this madness." He turned to Jon. "I can't help Britta right now, but you can help me. I need your help to protect Sam."
Jon was torn. Then he realized that if he were here and stayed close to the leaders then he had a better chance of finding and speaking to Daniel.
By the time they got back to the raised floor, John Hancock was speaking. He had the entire crowd cheering about destroying the tea. He made it clear that he wasn't asking them to do the destroying, he just wanted enough men on the streets in front of the wharf so that the forces of the governor and the admiral could not reach the ships.
Sam then stepped forward and told them of the risks, the horrible risks, that such vandalism would create. He then told them that it had all been arranged by the rich merchants and smugglers that compete with the Company. That they were such cowards that they were not going to do the destruction themselves, but hire men to do it, and that even those men were such cowards that they were going to blacken their faces so that they could not be recognized.
Now the meeting turned ugly. The tradesmen were already suspicious of the rich Northender merchants and started speaking out against them. The few that supported the Northenders started pushing at men who supported the true Boston Caucus.
Sam pointed out that at least the governor would know one of the men responsible for the destruction, and that man was John Hancock.
That remark shook Hancock and he started to soften his stance. Eventually he said, "Let every man do what is right in his own eyes," hoping that in the future it all wouldn't be blamed on him.
The tradesmen wanted to know how they planned on destroying the tea, and everyone agreed to prevent the burning of the ships. Hancock refused to answer the questions, and seemed now to be trying to withdraw from the meeting. Unfortunately Sam then made a huge mistake. He told them that as far as he knew the tea was to be thrown overboard.
There was a sudden quieting, and then the audience began to talk to their friends and neighbors. Men nearest the doors started to leave, and the pace of leaving increased. Sam kept yelling out repeatedly that the meeting wasn't over, but then even the gentlemen seated in front looked around and knew what was happening. The mob was going to the ships, not to watch the destruction of the tea, and not to stop the governor from rescuing it, but to fill their pockets with costly tea for free.
* * * * *
Britta listened to the men sharing her dory chatting to each other in hushed voices. Most of the talk was about how drunk they got last night, or last Sunday, or last Christmas. The stories always ended with how they had lost money or had been over charged or robbed or wrecked something. They laughed about their small personal tragedies as if they were unavoidable, when in fact they were just the result of drunken stupidity.
Britta was very tired and these stories were boring her to sleep. She kept pinching herself. She couldn't let herself sleep. If she snored or moved the sail cloth, she would be found out. She decided to close
her eyes for just a little while. It was so dark that closing her eyes made no difference, anyway.
She woke to a call from the wharf above. "They finally decided to show up. Get out there." The dory jiggled and rolled and turned and then the rhythm of the rowers began. After a few minutes they stopped.
"They've got the spars rigged so they must have the hatch covers off. There, see that cube being hauled up? That's a tea chest. Big effer, in't it?"
"Yeh, well, I don't see any kegs in the water yet. Let's keep watching."
"Big John told us to light the lantern and look like fishermen. I'll not disobey him. Not him. Pass it forward to me. There is a spike with a hook for hanging it above the bow."
She tried to make herself small and push away from the center where he would be walking to keep his balance. A boot stepped on her leg and she tried to stifle a howl of pain. The man lost his balance and the dory rocked as he hit the gunnels.
"What the...?" The sail cloth was pulled off her. She was staring up at the grizzled man with red hair. He was holding an unlit lantern and he was staring down at her. "It's the girl from the shop. Looks like I get my wish. Christmas is early this year." He reached down to grab a handful of cloak and pull her around him so that he could push her down onto his rowing bench.
"Be calm, be calm, be calm," she kept telling herself over and over. She slowly turned her head, first one way and then the other. There were three men in the dory with her. To starboard was the wharf and the three tea ships, with the stern castle of the Dartmouth towering close. There was no way of climbing onto the wharf or onto the ship from the sea side.
To port was the bay. She could see a string of lights bobbing. Beyond them was the ghostly shape of a sloop. The lights must have been the Johan Bee and its dories. The closest dory was too far away to swim to.
She suddenly realized that the men were not talking. She looked towards the Dartmouth and watched as a large chest was dangled over the water and then men with boat hooks leaned against the gunnels and pulled the bottom of the chest towards them. The chest tipped over and emptied. A dark mass tumbled into the sea and a cloud of dust hung above it in the cold, dry December air. A cheer went up from the men doing the tipping. A roar went up from somewhere out of sight at the foot of the wharf.
The men were still silent. She took her eyes from the now empty-chest and looked to the stern of the dory. The men were quietly watching her.
The man on the rudder broke the silence. "Light the lantern. I want to see her." The grizzled man pushed passed her and used his flint set to light a match, and then the match to light the lantern. It smoked for awhile and then he adjusted it.
"Don't turn the lantern up too much," cautioned the man on the rudder. "We aren't really fishing, you know. A softer glow would be better for us."
The man who had lit the lantern sat beside her and slowly reached up to pull her hood back. He undid the bow of her bonnet strap and put the bonnet in the hood for safe keeping. Her blonde plaits spilled down to her shoulders.
"It's Britta, the ale wench from Sabin's Tavern in Providence," he said. "Now ain't that sweet justice," he said to her softly, "I use to rub myself raw dreaming about you."
The man on the tiller said, "Grab the sail cloth that covered her. Unfold it and spread it out in the bow like a bed so we can take turns on her." The grizzled man went back to the bow and did just that. The man from the stern oars came forward to keep her company. He put his hands on her and began to undo the pegs on the front of her cloak.
"Stay calm, stay still, stay calm, stay still," she told herself over and over. The tide was still ebbing. It was dragging the floating tea and their dory out into the harbor. Out into the harbor and closer to the fishing dories.
He spread the front of her undone cloak and pushed it back so that he could see her Puritan smock. Suddenly he reached up with both hands and grabbed each collar and pulled them apart with all of his might. Buttons and hooks and stitches ripped and the front of her smock opened into a deep vee leaving nothing covering her skin but her silk slip.
He kept moving his hands down the vee ripping as he went. She did not stop him. She did not raise her hands from the bench. She needed more time. More time, to close the distance to the fishing dories.
The man came back from making a bed and pushed the second man out of his way. One of his hands went inside the top of the long vee and found a breast. She grimace but did not pull away. Why do they always go for the breasts? she wondered wearily. His other hand went inside at the bottom of the long vee and started to push down between her legs.
"Come on, we don't have all night. They will be flinging the effin kegs offa the Dartmouth soon. Push her onto the bed and do her quick like, else there will be no time for my turn."
She was out of time. If she was going to do something, it would have to be now. If they pushed her off this bench, she would lose her footing and any leverage for throwing herself around. They would pin her down on the makeshift bed and gore her. Stay calm, stay calm.
* * * * *
Jon looked across the Old South hall. The last of the tradesmen were crowded around the doors trying to leave. There were still a good two hundred wealthier gentlemen in the front of the hall, and some younger men standing behind them.
Samuel Adams was telling them all that they had best all go home and to make sure they had alibis for not being anywhere near the tea ships. Home was best in any case, because before this night was over they might need to protect their families from what could easily turn into a riot.
Jon saw John Hancock moving slowly towards one of the doors. He raced across the room and grabbed him by the arm and swung him around. "Where is my sister?" he demanded. "Where is Britta?"
Hancock looked back at him in shock, not just by what he was saying, but by how angry he was. "At the Anchor Coffee Shoppe, I presume. Why do you ask me? And why the anger?"
"You were there with John Brown and took her with you when you left!" Jon shouted so loudly he was spitting.
Hancock looked over Jon's shoulder. John and Sam Adams were walking towards him. They had heard the boys words. "I know nothing of this. When I left Brown to go to the Freemason's Arms Tavern, she was still at the shop."
"You left Britta with John Brown!" howled Jon. "We came to Boston to hide from John Brown! He means us harm."
Other gentlemen were now standing and taking an interest and moving towards them. Hancock looked around for anyone from the North End Caucus. There were none. They would all be at the tea ships. There was a howl from the center of a group of young men, and one of them charged forth, and was quickly followed by the others. He recognized him as Jemmy Otis's son, Jim.
"What did you say about Britta?" yelled Jim as he ran towards Hancock. "John Brown has her? John Brown the slaver and smuggler that owns Providence?" He howled with rage and went for Hancock's throat.
John Adams put his arms around Jim from behind and wrestled him down to the ground. He was immediately surrounded by Jim's friends from Harvard. Some of them carried canes and they were raising them threateningly.
"No!" cried Jim, "not him, he is a family friend. Grab Hancock. Don't let him escape me."
John Hancock wasn't going anywhere. Jon's tiny pistol was cocked and at his throat. At the showing of a pistol the rest of the gentlemen in the room ducked to the floor. Even the students around Jim dropped to the floor.
Hancock stayed very still. He was watching Sam walk carefully forward towards him saying, "Jon, let him go." To the side of him he could see John Adams and Jim getting to their feet and also moving forward. Hancock looked at John Adams. "John, we have known each other for a life time. Tell him. Tell him I would never knowingly have harmed his sister."
"Whether that is true or not, I would not have Jon throw his life away by murdering you," said John Adams. "Jon, lower your pistol. He is not going anywhere. We will keep him with us until your sister has been found."
"Aye," said Sam, "And the first step in finding
her is to see if she is already back at the shop."
Jon lowered the pistol, and Hancock took a deep breath. Hancock looked around at the men who were now surrounding him for the walk to the Anchor. Their eyes stared back at him with open hatred.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith
Chapter 26 - Destroy the Tea
Britta raised her hands slowly as if getting ready to put one of her hands on each of the man's shoulders, in the way of lovers. "Shh," she said softly. "Slowly, gently, enjoy yourself but do not hurt me." She curled her hands and swung them inwards with as much force as she could, and boxed his ears with her cupped hands.
The effect was immediate. The man screamed in agony and reached up with his own hands to cup his own ears. His eyes were large balls, his mouth was wide open, a trickle of blood dripped from a nostril. She flung herself backwards, away from him. She screamed at the top of her lungs and kicked out at him with her feet and using them against his stomach, she pushed her own body over the gunnels. Over she went, over the gunnels and into the frigid inky waters of the bay.
Luckily, she had the sense to take a long breath before she hit the water, for the drop carried her under the surface. The frigid water burned at her skin like a fire. She almost opened her mouth under water to gasp at the shock of it. The wool of her felted cloak did not let her sink far, however, and she bobbed to the surface with her arms flailing. She tried to breathe. The shock of the cold had confused her breathing and she forgot to blow out so she couldn't suck more air in. Then she felt herself being pulled by the hood.
She twisted around. There was a face looking down at her from the dory mouthing some words, but she could not hear them. The face was so angry. He had a handful of hood in his hand and he was dragging her back into the dory. She raised her arms and the cloak was suddenly free of her and the man fell backwards into the dory with the heavy wet cloak on top of him.