Gabriel liked Nathaniel Greene. He knew the only reason he was here was because Nathaniel had plucked him from the river and then admitted — in front of George Washington — that he’d lied about catching the fish when he was a boy. Gabriel recognized how easy it would have been for Nathaniel to continue the lie about the fish, but he also recognized how much of Washington’s respect he had earned by telling the truth.
Gabriel and Artemas walked on past several other campsites in Greene’s regiment. Unlike the haphazard shelters they had seen earlier, Greene’s men set their shelters in well-ordered, neat rows. There was a campfire in front of every three or four campsites. A white flag hung by one of the shelters. Its corner held a blue canton filled with yellow stars. The symbol of an anchor was sewn in the middle with the word “HOPE” written above.
A few men sat by their campfires. They were clean-shaven and wore the same white frilled hunting shirts and brown trousers as the sentries at Washington’s headquarters. One soldier smiled at Artemas as he passed. “Got another young one there with you, Artemas? Where did you find this one?”
Artemas chuckled. “It’s a long story. Ask me again in the morning after I’ve had a chance to let these weary bones rest.”
“Fair enough,” answered the soldier.
Gabriel whispered up to Artemas. “These men are dressed all the same. Are they all from the same militia?”
“They are all Rhode Islanders. Fine soldiers, every one of them. If you stick around here long enough, you’re apt to see all manner of men, some good and some not so good.”
Artemas led Gabriel to a tent of white canvas near the end of the row, with a fire glowing outside. There was a boy sitting by the fire. He was about Gabriel’s height, with sandy brown hair and a spindly build. He was wearing a clean, white linen shirt and blue linen breeches and held a piece of meat over the flame with a stick. The boy set the stick down on a rock next to the fire and jumped up. Artemas went over to him and gave him a hug. Artemas Greenwood looked nothing like the boy he embraced. Thick and stocky with dark hair and swarthy skin, he looked as rugged as an old grizzled badger, but his eyes glinted with joy.
“Sorry it took so long to get back, Jonathon, but my horse thought I needed to go for a swim,” Artemas said.
“You look dry to me, Pa. I saved you some meat.” Jonathon held up the stick to his father. Artemas tore the meat in two and gave half to Gabriel.
“Jonathon,” said Artemas, “I would like you to meet Gabriel Cooper. Mr. Cooper has traveled from New York City all by himself to join us in the fight. And bless him, he saved me from being flung over a towering waterfall and dashed upon the rocks.”
Jonathon gave his father a puzzled look and then turned to Gabriel. With a respectful nod of his head, he spoke. “Good to meet you, Gabriel Cooper.”
“Good to meet you, as well.” Gabriel nodded in return.
“You really saved my pa’s life?” asked Jonathon.
“Well . . . I . . . I guess so,” said Gabriel.
“There’s no guessing about it, son,” said Artemas. “Had it not been for the gallant Gabriel here, I would not be standing before you getting ready to partake of this wonderful piece of meat you have saved for me.” With that, Artemas dug his teeth into the meat and sat down by the fire. Gabriel did the same, savoring every bite, since he had not eaten since morning.
“Jonathon here plays the fife,” said Artemas. “He wanted to come along with me when we left Rhode Island with General Greene. ’Course his mum had a fit about him coming along, but I promised to keep him safe and sound and said we’d be back home before the fall harvest.”
“Do you really think the troops will leave Boston by this fall?” asked Gabriel.
“I most certainly do,” said Artemas. “After the licking they took at Breeds Hill, King George will be callin’ them back to the Motherland any day now.”
Gabriel was astonished by Mr. Greenwood’s statement. “Um, Mr. Greenwood,” he said hesitantly, “I heard the patriots were driven from Breeds Hill. The ground was lost.”
“Is that what you heard?” said Artemas. “Well if it is, you heard wrong. His Majesty’s troops lost more soldiers and officers in that battle than they did over the past hundred years. We did lose the ground, that’s true. But this war isn’t about gaining ground. It’s about ridding ourselves of these trespassing lobsterbacks!”
“Did you and Jonathon fight at Breeds Hill?” asked Gabriel.
“We did,” said Artemas proudly. “Jonathon played his fife to keep the men’s spirits up, as the regulars were marching up the hill with bayonets fixed. I was standing beside him, making sure no musket balls came his way. We stood through the first and second charges up to the ramparts. Then, for lack of lead, we had to fall back to Bunker Hill. After that, we retreated to our camp here, but not before we dealt His Majesty’s finest plenty of death and destruction.”
Gabriel looked at Jonathon now across the fire. He imagined himself on top of that hill, beating his drum just as Jonathon had played his fife. It seemed so glorious to Gabriel but truly frightening at the same time. He wondered if Jonathon had been frightened and couldn’t help but asking softly, “Were you scared?”
Jonathon shot a look at his father and then back at Gabriel.
