He heard the hoof beats of Washington’s horse and those of Nathaniel’s and Artemas’s trailing behind. It had been a long time since Gabriel rode a horse. He’d learned to ride when he was very young. His father had to travel to buy books for his bookstore, and sometimes Gabriel accompanied him on trips to pick them up. He would ride the pack horse down to the docks where they would load books on its back, and then he’d ride home with his father, leading the pack horse along behind. He thought he was a good rider, but this was no pack horse, and General Washington rode swiftly, cutting his path through the trees. He knew he was riding with a master horseman.
After dodging through trees for most of their ride, the horses finally burst out onto a road. Ahead, lights glowed on the horizon. “Is that your camp, Your Excellency?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes,” said Washington. “And you can just call me General, son. No need for the formality between you and me.”
“Yes, sir — I mean . . . General.” Gabriel was still a bit in awe of this grand officer.
As they approached Cambridge, Gabriel could now see some campfires glowing in the night. He looked into the houses, their windows lit by candlelight. As they rode closer now, he could see larger buildings and beautiful stately mansions lying along a river shimmering under the starlight. All were fully lit and buzzing with activity. Gabriel asked, “What are those big buildings, General?”
“That is Harvard College,” explained Washington. “Many of the troops are stationed in the buildings.”
“Where are you staying, sir?” questioned Gabriel.
“In the house straight ahead,” answered Washington.
Just ahead, a large house with several large windows, each glowing with candlelight, sat next to the river. Along the green and the banks of the river, campfires dotted the landscape. Their glowing embers reflected all manner of makeshift shelters. There were stick huts, lean-tos, and canvas tarps all scattered about the many campfires. Gabriel’s heart cheered at the sight of this enormous army gathered in Cambridge, just waiting to fight.
As they rode by, smoke from the surrounding campfires lay heavy in the summer air, and the smell of roasting meat wafted up from the spits turning over the fires. Soldiers stared up from their campfires. Few, if any, had uniforms. Most men were dressed in common ditto suits, with tobacco brown jackets, waistcoats, and breeches, while others wore just their white shirts and trousers. Still others had deerskin jerkins and leggings. Some wore cowhide shoes or moccasins, but several were barefoot.
Men with gray hair, young boys, and all ages in-between surrounded the fires. Most of the older men were clean-shaven, but many had tangled and matted hair. They sat cleaning their muskets and sharpening knives. One man played a fiddle while a woman danced around a fire. Men with bottles in hand cheered and sang along. A few of these soldiers stopped their frolicking as Washington rode by, giving hard, resentful looks. Gabriel wondered what these soldiers thought of this Virginian he was riding behind. But Washington did not seem to care what these men thought. He rode past quickly and quietly, making his way to the large house next to the river.
The horses galloped to the house, and two men immediately came out to grab and halter the horses. In stark contrast to the common soldiers they had just passed, these men were robed in brilliant white, frilled hunting shirts, cocked hats, and brown boots. One had a red cloth tied to his right shoulder. They saluted Washington as he dismounted.
“How was your ride, Your Excellency?” asked one of the men as he took off the saddle.
“It was an adventurous evening, to say the least, Sergeant,” responded Washington. “Where did the boy come from, General?” asked the other man taking Nathaniel Greene’s horse.
“New York,” answered Nathaniel.
“New York?” said the man taking the horse, with complete disbelief.
“Yes, Sergeant, New York,” said Washington. “Don’t ask how he came from New York. You wouldn’t believe the answer, anyway.”
The horses were led away. Washington turned to his companions. “Gentlemen,” he said. “We have had a full day, and I propose we turn in for the night. Artemas, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind accommodating our guest, Gabriel, tonight. Is there room in your tent? I know you have your son Jonathon with you, but I honestly don’t know exactly what to do with the lad. We can talk more about it in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” said Artemas. “Housing the young man who saved my life certainly won’t be a problem. I’d say it’s the least I can do.”
“Very well, then,” said Washington. “Can we all meet in my office here at the Vassall House at seven o’clock tomorrow morning? I would like to discuss young Mr. Cooper’s future. Nathaniel, I want you and Artemas in the meeting, as well. Your thoughts on the matter are important to me.”
Then men saluted the general. A bit delayed, Gabriel followed suit by flinging his hand up to his cap. Washington gave a hint of a smile directly to Gabriel, returned the salute, and turned. Gabriel was exhausted, and he knew the general must have also been tired. Yet, Washington’s manner of walk seemed more youthful and athletic than that of a man of forty-two years. His long legs strode up the steps to the house. As he entered through the door, the sentries came to attention.
With that, Gabriel felt himself breathe again. He knew he had been in the presence of a great man. While filled with joy and amazement, Gabriel also felt a surge of sorrow, for he wanted to go run and tell his mother and father what just happened. He had just ridden with the Commander in Chief, the man who was in charge of driving the redcoats from Boston. They would have been proud, indeed.
Nathaniel and
