“Dr. Stevens, before we get to the plan, would you cease to call me colonel for now?” Black said. “I think you must know the reason.”
“Yes, you are out of uniform. If you are caught while wearing your real one, you could argue that you should be treated as a prisoner of war. Without one...”
“I will be hanged as a spy if it becomes known that I am a soldier.”
“Do you have papers that show that you are something other than a soldier?”
“Yes.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a set of papers wrapped in oilskin. He unbundled them and handed them to Stevens. To Black’s amazement, they were still dry.
Stevens read quickly through them. “These say that you have been apprenticed to an inventor in Charleston.”
“Yes, and I will tell anyone who asks that because of the war and the marauding of rebel ships, I was landed in New York instead of Charleston and became lost while making my way south.”
“What kind of inventor?”
“He is a man skilled at machinery who is trying, I will say, to invent a machine to separate cotton fibres from the seeds.”
“Have you ever even seen any machine that does that?”
“No. That is no doubt why the man can be said to want to invent it. The patent would make him wealthy. But I have always been a good mechanic, and in my youth I worked in my father’s blacksmith shop and tinkered with things. I could be of use to such a man, and I can make that story stick if pressed.”
“Your youth? Good God, how old are you now?”
“Thirty-three.”
“From my perspective, at an age much closer to fifty than to forty, you are still young. But be that as it may, if you are caught in the midst of this operation, Mr. Black, that cotton story will do you little good.”
Stevens turned to Rufus, who had remained on his horse, and said, “Please give me the lantern.”
Rufus handed Stevens the lantern, whereupon Stevens took the papers Black had given him, used the flame to light them on fire and dropped them on the ground. The papers burned and curled to ash. With his boot, Stevens ground the blackened remains into the dirt.
“There, the ridiculous cotton machine story is no more, and I will give you shortly something to replace it.”
He turned once again to Rufus and said, “Rufus, you may leave us now. I will be quite safe with Mr. Black. It’s best you get ahead of us, as we talked about.”
Rufus nodded, turned his mount around and headed out.
After he had left, Black said, “Dr. Stevens, I am not so much wet as bone cold. Are we able to risk a fire?”
“No. But I have brought more appropriate clothes for you and they will be warmer.” He pulled a shirt, pants and a jacket out of his saddlebags. “Put these on and you will be not only warmer, but less suspicious looking.”
Black took them, examined them and said, “This is an American uniform, showing the rank of corporal.”
“Yes, of the 1st Pennsylvania and using your real name. With it you can travel openly during the first part of the operation. The papers I will give you say you were on leave to visit your dying mother.”
“This takes away any claim that I am a civilian.”
“That claim was ridiculous on its face, and would not save you.”
“Before we get to our final goal, I will need the uniform of a British officer. Have you been told that?”
“Yes, it was in the plan from the start, and we are working on it. For the moment, though, please put these on.”
Once he had reclothed himself in what he had been handed—a dark green military-style coat with buff lapels, waistcoat and knee breeches—Black asked, “Do you have a gun for me?”
“No. You will have no need of a gun right now. I will get you one later. If you are asked, just say that you left your gun with your regiment.”
Not having a gun made Black uncomfortable. He was an expert marksman and had always felt most at ease, when in the field, with a musket or pistol in his hands. But it was the Loyalists who had planned all of this, so he had no choice but to accept it for the moment.
“You mentioned we might now do this differently than I was told?” Black said.
“Ah, yes.” Dr. Stevens took a long stick and began to sketch a map in the dirt floor of the barn.
“This is the shoreline—from New York to Philadelphia—and this is the small inlet where you landed.” He made an X. “Washington and his staff are now headquartered in New Jersey, in a small town called Totowa, inside the Dey Mansion.” He made another mark.
“I was told in England his headquarters were elsewhere.”
“Since that plan of attack was sent to England, he has moved his headquarters at least twice.”
“How far is Totowa?”
“About four days’ hard ride. Maybe a little longer.”
“The same amount of time to get back?”
“Yes.”
“This could be a problem. The ship will come back for me on only eight nights. If it takes us more than eight days round trip, I will be out of luck.”
“Surely, if you have Washington by then, they will come back for you anyway.”
“How do you propose I let them know I have him?”
Stevens rubbed his stick back and forth in the dirt, clearly thinking, and finally said, “I see your point.”
“I suppose we will just have to hurry. In any case, how are we to accomplish our goal when we get to Totowa?”
“We have acquired plans of the house in which he is staying.” He drew a square in the dirt beside the first map. “It faces south down a valley. The man’s office and bedroom are both on the ground floor, here, in the southeast corner.” He marked a large W in the corner.
“What kind of security does he have?”
“The house and the General himself are guarded by the elite of what some call his Life Guard. Officially the Commander-in-Chief Guard.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Most are out patrolling. But in and around the house, there are twenty-four. Each one of them young, tall and big. And fierce. Each one born in America. Washington doesn’t trust those who were born elsewhere.”
“Three watches?”
“Yes, eight soldiers in each watch. Most stationed to the east of the house, towards the British lines.”
“What about the others, who aren’t on watch?”
“At night, the ones who are not on duty sleep on planks laid on the rafters in the attic, above the second floor.”
“What is our plan?”
“We have fifteen Loyalists who will meet us there, five sharpshooters—two of them also excellent with a bow—and five men very good with knives.”
“And the other five, who are they?”
“Rough customers. We can make use of them however it suits us.”
“How will we get away?” Black said.
“They will have fresh horses with them for our use.”
“We will likely be followed.”
“Yes, as soon as his guard realizes Washington is gone, they will surely follow us quickly and in force. I have a ruse that I think will send them elsewhere.”
“Tell me about it.”
Stevens described it, and Black said, “It could work. For at least a little while. Now, if you would, tell me more details.”
“We will come in from north and west of the house. The sentries are much less vigilant in that direction because the American lines are to the east of the house, and the British lines even further east, over high hills. The commanders of the guard think any attempt will likely come from the east, in an effort to flank the American lines.”
“Is there anyone else in the house besides Washington and his guards?”
“Yes, the family that has lent him the house is still living there, including children.”
“What will we do with them?”
“They live on the west side of the house, Washington on the east. The rough men will tie them and gag them and keep them locked in their rooms. By the time they are freed, we will be well away.”
Black took a deep breath and said, “This adds much risk. And I do not wish to kill people who have not taken up arms against us. Nor children ever.”
“The husband is in the militia and fights against us.”
“I am not much mollified by that, but I suppose there is nothing to be done about it.”
“No, there is not, but we hope not to have to kill them.”
“How did you get all this information, Dr. Stevens?”
“From a spy in the ranks. A senior enlisted man.”
“Why is he motivated to tell us these things?”
“The usual. Not enough to eat. No pay. Harsh officers. Thinking his enlistment has expired, but they won’t let him go. There are even rumours of a coming mutiny of the Pennsylvania Line.”
“This man was paid for his information?”
“Yes.”
“Were you paid to change sides?”
Stevens stiffened. “No.”
Black took the stick from him. “Under your plan, we have to ride four days from here—” he poked the landing site “—all the way to Totowa—” he dragged the stick between the two, leaving a deep furrow in the soil “—and then back again for four days—” he dragged the stick backwards “—with the Americans in hot pursuit.”
“What is the alternative?”
Black drew a short line from Totowa to New York. “Take him to New York—it can’t be more than half a day’s march to the British lines, and then seek General Clinton’s assistance in getting the prisoner to the ship and transporting him back to London.”
“Two problems with that.”
“Which are?”
“We would have to pass through American lines to reach the British, and scouts even faster than us will have been sent out to alert them to stop us.”
“What else?”
“If General Clinton gets his hands on Washington he will probably hang the man himself. He is angry about Washington hanging Major Andre.”
“Who is Major Andre?”
“General Benedict Arnold came over to the British side in September and tried to give the plans for the American fort at West Point to General Clinton. But his plan was foiled.”
“He was caught?”
“No. But Major Andre, the British officer who was his intermediary, was caught—with the plans for the fort in his boot.”
“Was he not just a soldier doing his duty to suborn a soldier of the other side? The rules of war permit that.”
“Unfortunately, he was in civilian clothes when caught and carrying false papers, using a false name. He was judged a spy by a court martial and hanged. He was Clinton’s favourite aide.”
“Just as I am now wearing the clothing of the wrong army and using fake papers.”
“Yes. If we are caught, perhaps it will please Clinton to have you and Washington swing together from the same gibbet.”
“Along with you.”
“I will be far too minor a fellow for them to waste a rope. I will be dispatched in some back alley.”
After that sobering exchange Dr. Stevens said, “I have stopped hearing rain on the roof, so we’d best get under way. We have a long way to go, and we must not look like we are too much in a hurry. A soldier returning to his regiment is never anxious to get back.”
“We are going to travel in the open, by day after the sun rises?”
“Yes, at least getting there. Along the way, I will school you in the politics of this rebellion and you can tell me about your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yes, the one you just took leave to visit because she was near death.”