Gabriel wound his way through the city streets, heading north. He stopped when he came to Cherry Street. Pausing, he couldn’t help but look down the street where his old home stood. He was ready to leave New York, but not before saying goodbye to the last place where he was loved. His father’s old bookstore was only a few buildings down. It was a simple store with room for the Coopers to live above the shop.
After the Lorings took in Gabriel, he sometimes wandered out and stood in front of the building, remembering the happy life he had known there. His father, James, had worked hard as a clerk to a London bookseller before sailing to the colonies with his new bride, Anne-Laurel, in tow. In a matter of months, he was able to open up this bookstore in New York. He was so proud of his shop.
Not long after the Coopers’ arrival in New York, Gabriel was born. Blessed with this one and only child, the following years were good for the Coopers, and James was able to stock his shop with books from France and England. Gabriel learned to read at a young age and spent as much time as he could in his father’s bookstore. Like his father, he loved books. His mother taught him to read and write French, as well. Although he went to school, he learned most of what he knew from his parents and from reading books.
Those afternoons in his father’s bookstore seemed like a distant memory now as he stood in front of the dark windows. When his father and mother died, creditors came and took James Cooper’s books as payment for debts he owed. The bookstore and room above it were taken too. After that, it lay empty and dark.
Now, in the empty street, Gabriel said goodbye to the bookstore and his parents one last time. “Father and Mother, I hope you understand that I cannot stay here and keep an eye on the empty shop anymore. I found a drum in the river today, and I know it may sound strange, but I’m going to go to Boston to be a drummer in a militia. I don’t know how to play yet, but I’ll learn. You always taught me to decide on a path and not stray from it. Well, this is the path I’m choosing. I hope you understand, and I hope to make you proud. I love you always.”
With that, Gabriel turned away. He could no longer hold back his tears. Misty-eyed, he could barely see where he was going as he crossed the Broad Way to reach Lispenard’s meadows. The air was clear and warm for an April night, and the frogs and crickets began their nighttime serenade. He found a large oak tree in the middle of a meadow not far from the dirt road he was on and decided it was as good a place as any to rest for the night. He spread out his blanket and lay down, gazing up at the stars.
A gentle breeze rustled the branches overhead, and as he looked up at the night sky, he wondered how many nights he would have to spend sleeping under the stars before he reached Boston. He figured he could walk twenty miles a day, which meant it would take him at least a couple of weeks to get there. He had shillings to buy food along the way, but he certainly did not have enough to pay for a room every night of his journey. Yes, sleeping under the stars was something he’d have to get used to. As these thoughts drifted through his head, he dozed off and did not wake until the morning light shone upon his face.
H 3 H
BEN’S ADVICE
In the morning, Gabriel took a bite of the dried meat and biscuit that Herbert had given him the night before, drank a sip of water from a nearby stream, and rolled up his meager belongings into his blanket. He slung the pack and his drum over his back and set off on the road toward King’s Bridge. To leave the island, he would need to pass the village of Harlem, then onto King’s Bridge. He’d heard of men traveling to and from King’s Bridge in a day, so he figured he’d reach the bridge by noon.
After his second rest of the day, however, he realized that his twenty miles a day might be overly optimistic. Fearing that Reverend Loring would try to find him and force him to return, he left the road whenever he heard approaching hoof beats. He thought it best to avoid other travelers until he got over King’s Bridge. But constantly darting off the road made for a slow journey’s start. Before he knew it, the sun was already on its downward path, and he had just passed Harlem.
Finally, Gabriel saw a few buildings ahead, scattered around a bridge that crossed the Harlem River. The road had become increasingly rugged and uphill, and by the time he had reached the scattered buildings, he was so worn out that he didn’t care who saw him. As he walked down the road, he saw that one of the buildings had a sign hanging out front: “King’s Bridge Tavern.”
Gabriel was hungry and tired. He slowly opened the door to the tavern to see what he could find. He stepped through the door and saw a bar and several tables scattered around the room. Behind the bar was a dark-haired man with a billowed shirt and white linen smock. Men dressed in simple hunting shirts and trousers sat around many of the tables. Others were dressed up, with waistcoats, breeches, and wigs.
A hard-looking man in a faded red jacket sat at the end opposite the door. A bayoneted musket leaned against his table.
