Gabriel had never really given any thought to having to lie. His parents had always been honest people. He had heard the Reverend Loring teach that lying lips were an abomination to the Lord. But the Bible also said not to murder one another, and certainly men had to die at the hand of another man in battle. With these thoughts swimming in his mind, he muttered, “I guess it makes sense.”
“Well, I don’t expect you to understand things that philosophers and theologians have struggled to understand for centuries. Now, there is one more important thing I need to tell you before I leave. There’s someone you need to find when you reach the militia camps around Boston. Ask for a man named Nathaniel Greene. He’s a cousin of mine from Rhode Island, and he’s as cunning as wild turkey, strong as an ox, and courageous as a lion. My brother writes that Nathaniel has his own band of militia — Rhode Islanders — and is headed up to help with things in Boston. You find him and tell him that Ben Daniels sent you to him. Knowing Nathaniel, he’s liable to want some kind of proof that you know me. You tell him that you know he didn’t catch that thirty-pound cod fish out in the bay with his line and bait. Crazy thing jumped in our rowboat. We told everyone in town that he caught it. We were just boys and didn’t think any harm would come of it, but it’s something I’m sure he’s never forgotten.”
“I will find him, and I will tell him,” said Gabriel, a smile beginning to break out across his face.
“That a boy. The codfish story is sure to catch his attention. Now, I better get going, young Master Cooper. The missus is probably wondering if I got lost.” Ben stood up, put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, and patted him on the back. “You’ll be a fine soldier, Gabriel Cooper, but I don’t think you’ll have much use for that drum of yours.”
Gabriel gave Ben a puzzled look and said, “I’m not sure what you mean, but I do thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“I don’t believe there are many things in this life that happen just by chance,” replied Ben. “And our meeting tonight surely was not one of them.” Then he turned and headed out the door into the night.
Keeping his drum concealed under his coat, Gabriel headed up to his room for the night. As he lay alone in his bed, he thought about Bradford Grimm. Feelings of anger and fear swam in his head. He was angry that loyalists like Grimm could inflict so much pain and loss and then turn around and claim they were carrying out God’s will for the glory of the king. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.
Despite his rage, he was scared. Opposing loyalists — and the king’s soldiers, for that matter — could mean death. He had never really thought about the danger he placed himself in just by carrying a drum to Boston, but he could see the danger now.
He thought for a brief moment about going back. It wasn’t too late. He could drop the drum anywhere and head back. But head back to what? There was nothing for him in New York — nothing but painful memories and the detestable Lorings.
He had no choice but to continue, and with his drum in tow. Despite what Ben said about him not needing it, Gabriel believed it was central to his plan. Without his drum, he had no hope of ever finding a militia that would want to take him on as a recruit. He was too young and too inexperienced.
He blew out his candle and tried to empty his head of the hundreds of thoughts bouncing around inside. Finally sleep came.
H 4 H
THE JOURNEY
BEGINS
Gabriel awoke after a good night’s rest and walked over to the window looking out over the road. The King’s Bridge lay below. No king’s soldiers appeared at the bridge, but as he watched, a small group of armed men crossed, heading north on horseback. Gabriel had no way of knowing if they were patriots or loyalists. As the sun began to rise, he knew he would have to take his chance.
He headed down the stairs with his drum in hand. Instead of the bearded man from the night before, a woman in a brown dress stood behind the bar with a broom. She stopped sweeping and watched him come down the stairs. “You are a fine one that my husband hides up here,” she said.
“Ma’am,” Gabriel said, nodding his head to her as his mother had taught him.
“I am to feed you before you go. Sit down here. I’ll cook an egg for you,” she stated plainly, pointing to the table near the bar.
He didn’t know what to think but wasn’t going to turn down a meal. He put his drum beside his chair and sat, watching the woman move toward the hearth that had already been warmed by a morning log. The tavern was now empty. The woman cracked the egg on an iron skillet, which rested on a grate over the hot coals. She looked at him silently while she stirred the egg, scraping it onto a wooden plate next to a small piece of bread. “You’ll be wanting something to drink? I will bring you some milk.” The woman walked out the back door.
Gabriel finished his egg, when the woman brought in a cup of fresh milk, sat it down,
