The Gentle Rebel (31 page)

But now Howe was gambling and gamboling with Mrs. Loring, so Burgoyne, a man of great concern for his men, had concocted the play for their entertainment. Paul led Abigail through the shouting ribald crowd, composed mostly of soldiers accompanied by many painted women, to a seat down close to the front.

“Noisy, aren’t they?” He had to speak loudly to make himself heard, and added, “If they can fight like they can play, the rebels are doomed.”

Abigail looked around and then smiled at Paul. “So far they haven’t done much but get butchered at Bunker Hill and tear our town up. If Father hadn’t been a faithful subject, they would have burned our house down.”

“Ours too, I suppose,” Paul shrugged. The British troops, frustrated with the remaining Bostonians who were thought to be signaling the rebels with burning gunpowder, had burned and pillaged the property of any American who could not prove his loyalty to the Crown.

Paul thought about it, then said, “It would be bad for us if the rebels came back. Some of the patriots who’d had their houses burned would be sure to come calling on every one of us who’ve stayed loyal to the King.”

She stared at him with troubled eyes. “But—there’s no chance of that, surely? They’re just a rabble!”

“I hope you’re right, sweetheart,” Paul said. He had a dark streak of fatalism running through him, and he added as the curtain went up, “I’d hate to be at the mercy of our
rebel ‘neighbors.’ I really think they’d be more dangerous to us than the soldiers in the army.”

She turned to watch the play, but he saw that she had been shaken by the idea that she and her family might be on the losing side. The farce was taken from a play called
Maid of Oaks,
written by Burgoyne and produced in London by David Garrick. This humbler Boston production starred a caricature of Washington in a huge wig and rusty sword. The soldiers and their women roared with laughter at the farce, calling out lewd suggestions loudly, but as the play was nearly over, a sentry burst into the room crying out: “Turn out! Turn out! They are hard at it, hammer and tongs!”

The audience, thinking this was part of the play, clapped prodigiously, but the sentry yelled, “What the devil are ye about? The rebels are raiding Charles Town Neck, I tell you!”

There was a wild scramble then, as the officers and men saw that the threat was genuine, and Paul led Abigail through an almost empty hall to the carriage. On the way home, she said in a frightened voice, “Paul, can we lose?”

“No, not the war,” he said moodily. “But we can lose here. If the rebels ever find out how weak we are—or if they ever get any cannon on those hills up there, it’s all over.”

“But—what will we
do?
”

“Get away, if we can, to England. But we’ll lose everything. I talked with Father about it last week. He says there’s no hope except maybe in Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Nathan’s father,” he said with a strange smile at her. “Didn’t Nathan ever tell you our family history?”

“No.”

“He’s more noble than I would have been. I didn’t think your father would say anything, but I thought Nathan might.”

“What’s my father got to do with it?”

He chuckled and said, “Why your father and mine made a valiant stab at diddling Nathan’s father out of his share of
the family business years ago. Adam found out about it and just about shook my father’s teeth out until Dad repented.”

“My father never said a word!”

“Not too proud of that part of his life, I should think.” Suddenly he laughed and clapped his thigh. “By George, it’s funny now that I think of it! Here we’ve thrown our lots in with the British—sure that these rebels were going to lose. If the British win, Nathan and his father would be paupers and we’d be rich. Now, if Washington comes back with his army, Nathan and his family will be on top, and if we’re not hanged for being traitors, we’ll be poor as church mice.” He laughed again, then gave her a sudden hard glance. “I think about this time you’re having second thoughts about choosing me instead of Nathan, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said quickly. But she was quiet on the ride home, and when he kissed her good night, she was preoccupied.

“May I come up?”

“Not tonight, Paul. I’m tired.”

He looked at her cynically, then left immediately, but she tossed and turned long that night, unable to sleep. Finally she thought,
Nathan wouldn’t let me suffer. He may be hurt, but he still loves me!
Then she smiled, stretched luxuriously, and felt much better.

Adam and Molly made their way through Cambridge, noting that most of the soldiers who filled the town had little in the way of uniforms. There were some exceptions, of course. The Rhode Islanders were there with their neat tents, each equipped with its own awning. The Twenty-first Massachusetts, men from Marblehead, had given up their occupations as shipwrights and fishermen, but not their seafaring heritage. Molly said quietly as they passed by, “How neat they look!”

Adam glanced at the troops, dressed in trim blue seacloth jackets and loose white sailor’s trousers. “Look funny off a ship, don’t they now? Make our boys look pretty sloppy.”

He was now Captain Winslow of the Virginia Rangers—a rank which he had not wanted, but which General Washington had insisted on, and Molly was proud of him. She said as they approached the house that Washington used for a headquarters, “Our men are so different from the others!”

That was true. The Virginia riflemen had little in common with the other troops. They were tall, violent men with skins the color of tanned leather, and under Adam’s command, they had marched seven hundred miles in three weeks, arriving in Boston with no one ill and no deserters.

The Virginians wore voluminous white hunting shirts and round, broad-brimmed caps with dangling fur tails. Their garb alone would have made them a target for attention, but their behavior provoked the other troops even more. They automatically pushed aside anyone who got in their way, and their height and obvious toughness awed most of the troops. They carried guns much longer and narrower than the familiar smoothbore muskets—and they won most of the loose money in camp by challenging all comers to shooting contests and winning every time—shattering bottles at three hundred yards. The Brown Bess would not even
carry
half that distance!

They fought anyone—kicking, biting, gouging out eyes—and if no stranger offered himself, they fought each other. Washington had said when giving Adam his commission, “It’ll have to be you, Winslow. The officer of these men will have to be as tough as they are!”

They reached the house, and while the guard went inside to give his name, Adam said, “I’m glad you’re here, Molly. This would be a lonesome place for me without you.”

She smiled at him, a coquettish look in her eyes as she pinched his arm. “You think I’d let a good-looking thing like you loose in a place like this?”

“Not much danger,” he grinned. “I wonder what General Washington wants?”

They did not have to wait long, for the door opened and
Washington himself stepped outside, wearing a spotless uniform. Adam noted instantly that the air of expectancy he had come to know in this leader was obviously missing. The pressure had been enormous, and only a few days earlier he had written to his aide Joseph Reed:

But now the tall Virginian had a buoyancy in his walk, and his eyes shone as he said, “Captain Winslow—Mrs. Winslow, you are prompt.”

“Yes, sir,” Adam nodded. “I thought the matter might be urgent from the sound of your message.”

“So it is,” Washington smiled. “Mrs. Winslow, would you be pleased to ride in my carriage while I ride with your husband? It’s only a short journey, but this weather is still sharp.”

Adam put Molly into the carriage, then mounted a horse provided by an aide. As Washington wheeled his own horse, a magnificent white stallion, Adam thought,
How this man can ride a horse!
As they made their way out of Cambridge, heading for Boston, Washington chatted about small things, which left Adam mystified.
He didn’t need me to go for a ride with him!

Then when they reached the turnpike, Washington pulled up and waved toward a small camp set off the road. “I think you’ll be interested in this, Captain.”

Adam knew at once what it was and exclaimed, “Knox made it with the guns!”

“Thank God, he did!” Washington said, and then he spurred his horse forward. They reached the camp, and as Adam swung down and helped Molly out of the carriage,
Knox came out of a tent and almost ran to meet his commander.

Knox had a dramatic streak in him, and he drew himself up to his full height, saluted and said in a full voice, “Your Excellency—the mission is accomplished! Now the cause of liberty is safe!”

Washington laughed delightedly and said, “Henry, you are a little premature, but you have my thanks—indeed, the whole country owes you much,
Colonel
Knox!”

Knox’s eyes flew open at his sudden promotion, and for once the huge bookseller was speechless. Then Washington said, “Now, you and I will have a talk on how to best use these little beauties of yours—and Captain and Mrs. Winslow here would like to see their son.”

“Of course, General!” Knox said, and looking around he saw Nathan waiting at a respectful distance. “Come here at once—
Sergeant
Winslow!” He turned to Adam and Molly and said with a broad smile, “I’d make him a lieutenant if I could, sir! He and that young friend of his saved our necks on this trip!”

He turned to lead Washington into the tent, and Nathan came up to be embraced by his mother. “You’re so
thin!
” she exclaimed.

“Been eating the bark off the trees,” he said, looking down at her; then with a smile, he said, “Do I salute you, Captain Winslow?”

Adam looked up at his tall son and thought of the dark moods he’d had in the months since the war had started. There had been a wall between the two of them, and he hated it worse than he’d hated anything in his life. So in full view of the camp, he stepped forward and opened his arms. “Later, you can salute—but I’m so glad to see you—my son!”

Nathan found himself being held tightly by his father’s iron-hard blacksmith arms, and as he returned the embrace, his eyes burned and he said, “I—I’m glad . . . !” and then he could say no more.

When Adam stepped back, there was a suspicious moisture in his own eyes and he said briskly, “Well, Sergeant, I believe I have it in my authority to take you into town and buy you a meal.”

“And I want Laddie, too,” Molly said. “I’ve thought about him so often.”

Nathan’s face changed, and Molly thought,
They’ve had a fight,
but he said, “He’ll be glad to see you both. Talks about you a lot—but you’ll probably have to take his buddy along. We picked him up on the trail and he and Laddie have been thick as thieves.”

“Bring him along, son,” Adam said quickly, and when Nathan went along the line of wagons to find Laddie, he said, “You notice something there?”

“Yes. Nathan could never hide his feelings—like you can.”

“Me? You read me like a big-print Bible,” Adam grinned. “But this new friend of Laddie’s—I don’t think Nathan cares much for him.”

“Well, it may be some rough soldier leading the boy astray,” Molly said. “But Nathan was always pretty possessive—like me.” She gave him a swift look and said quietly, “I’m glad you did that—hugged him. He needs you, Adam.”

“I guess I’m not very loving, Molly.”

“Oh—you have your moments, Captain Winslow!” She laughed in delight as his face suddenly grew red, and said gently, “Let’s not mention this girl he was seeing, Adam. Let him bring it up if he wants to.”

Nathan returned with Laddie, and she was delighted to see them both. “And this is Friend Daniel Greene,” she said, and Molly did not miss the admiration in Laddie’s clear eyes as she introduced the handsome man in plain black clothes.

The five of them rode back to Cambridge crowded into the carriage, and the full story of the heroic trip after the guns poured out. The Quaker said almost nothing, but Laddie finally added, “If Friend Daniel hadn’t rounded up all
those oxen, I guess we’d still be perched on the bank of the Hudson River!”

“I didn’t do all that much.” He had a deep musical voice, Molly noted, and later when they got to the hotel where she and Adam had a room, they left the three long enough to go and clean up before meeting them for a meal.

“Well, what did you think of Friend Greene?” Adam asked at once.

“It’s a good thing I’m an old married woman,” she answered as she brushed her glossy hair back. “That Quaker is too handsome! What a shame it’s all wasted on a preacher who doesn’t need all those good looks.”

“He
is
fine looking,” Adam admitted. “And a husky fellow as well.” He stared at her, admiring her long hair, then said, “I thought Quakers were against war and all that. Surprises me that he helped Knox out. But—he’s not what we thought, is he? I mean, he’s not a drinking or wenching man—likely to corrupt Laddie?”

“No, he’ll not do that, I think.” She said in a slow voice, then rose and said, “Let’s go eat. I want to hear more about the trip.”

For the next three days, Washington and Knox had their heads together, and the men were given permission to go into town often. There was little for Adam to do, and he said, “I know Washington—he’s up to something. When it breaks, I don’t reckon any of us will have any time for fun—so we better enjoy it.”

It was a good time for Molly; she had seen little of Adam when he’d been so busy getting the Rangers organized, and the two of them spent a great deal of time with Nathan. They ate together every night, and Laddie was always included, as was the young Quaker.

They laughed a great deal, but Molly saw that beneath the surface, all three of the young people were somehow ill at ease. She said nothing to Adam, but finally on the third night, something happened that interrupted their holiday.