Thunder crashed outside the small window of the tavern. Gabriel saw the flash of lightning and the rain pelting down. He dreaded heading out into the storm. As he savored the last bites of meat and bread, he decided to wait inside the tavern until the owner told him he must leave.
Thomas had dozed off, his head face-down on the table. After finishing his food, Gabriel dozed off, too, but was not sure how long he had been asleep when Fletcher came up to him and shook him awake. “Lad, here’s the dried meat and bread I promised you. I’ve let you stay here till the storm cleared outside, but I need to lock up now, and you need to be on your way.”
Gabriel yawned and stretched. Looking across, he could see Thomas. He was snoring, still face-down on the table. Fletcher leaned over to shake Thomas now. “Wake up, Tew. Wake up!” he shouted, much more abruptly than he had dealt with Gabriel. “Time for you to move on now.”
Thomas stuttered and spat, then rose up from the table in a complete stupor, patted Gabriel on the back, gave him a wink, and without saying a word, walked out the door. Still groggy, Gabriel took the pack from the owner and tried to determine the weight of its contents. It didn’t seem too heavy, and he only hoped it would be enough to get him through to Boston now that he had no money. That, of course, could all change with Thomas Tew’s treasure.
Gabriel stepped out into the night. A light rain fell, and he could see a few flashes of lightning lingering in the east. The rainwater ponded all along the road, and Gabriel knew they must have just gotten another torrential downpour. The Charles River would be up, he was sure of that.
He was tired and needed to sleep. There was a small covered porch on the front of the tavern. He would stay put and curl up out of the rain. The tavern owner won’t mind, he thought.
He fell asleep quickly, but the morning sun seemed to rise just as fast. He rubbed his still-tired eyes and stretched his stiff bones.
He was close now. He could feel it. Only one day’s walk to the river, and then another day or two before he would be looking for Nathaniel Greene and his band of Rhode Island militia. Not wanting to waste any more time in Marlborough, he set off down the road. As he strode out of town, he wondered where Thomas the Terrible had taken off to last night. Gabriel had gone out the door of the tavern just a minute behind Thomas, but there was no sign of the man. He must have a house some place nearby, he thought.
The more distance Gabriel put between himself and Marlborough, the stranger the man’s story seemed to him. It was like waking from a dream that at first seems real, but begins to fade the longer you’re awake. He was having doubts about whether he should really follow through on his promise to look for the treasure on his way to Boston. What if it took him so far out of his way that he ran out of food? He was already hungry from his morning of walking, so he stopped off the road for a bite to eat. Peering into the small cloth bag, he saw how meager his provisions really were. The food would only last a few days, and that would be stretching it.
Gabriel took some nourishment, found a small pool of fresh rainwater to drink from, and set back down the road. If he didn’t hear the sound of the river along the road as Thomas said he would, he would not stray from the path to look for the treasure. Just as he made this decision, the faint sound of gurgling water came to his ear. He almost wished he hadn’t heard it, but there it was, growing louder with every step.
It was late afternoon. He stood in the road, listening to the unmistakable sound of rushing water. He knew what he had told Thomas the Terrible, and he couldn’t back away now. He had to leave the road and follow the river. He stepped off the path into a densely wooded area with enormous trees that created an interwoven canopy of leaves and branches. He turned and took one last look at the road — the road that would take him to Cambridge where the militia was camped. Then he turned back to the dark woods and strode ahead toward the sound of flowing water.
Passing under the canopy of green overhead, Gabriel found the river, swollen and nearly cresting its banks. He would have to bushwhack along the river, as brush, bramble, and vines were growing on the forest floor beneath the canopy of the large trees. He paused for a moment to take in the different kinds of trees — walnut, hickory, sycamore, cherry, poplar, some pine, and numerous large oak. How would he ever find a single oak with a “T” carved in the bark?
Walking along the river, Gabriel pressed his way through the brush, sometimes needing to take out his knife to cut away at some thorn bushes blocking his path. He was thankful he had saved his knife and drum but still lamented the fact that he lost nearly everything else in the raging river. Was this the same river that had stolen his coins in the flood? Was this the river Thomas the Terrible meant? Would it take him to Cambridge as Thomas claimed?
Gabriel walked along the river’s edge the rest of the afternoon. Making slow progress, he came across two very small waterfalls that only dropped a few feet. There was no steep cliff to scale, so he quickly dismissed any thought that these would be the waterfalls where Captain Tew left his treasure.
The branches overhead blocked out so much sunlight, it was hard to tell what time of day it was. Still, Gabriel sensed the night. He relished the thought of a bright fire. Then he realized he didn’t have his flint rock with him. “Blast!” he said out loud.
He yearned for a warm fire as he shivered at even the thought of the coming cold, dark night in the middle of this dense wood. He had spent other nights on his journey without a fire, but none so far from the road in such a dense forest — one sure to hold panthers, bears, wolves, and coyotes. The hazy green light quickly gave way to darkness, and a cool mist seemed to rise from the forest floor. He didn’t even have a blanket to wrap around him. He felt naked. It was as if the forest was closing thick claws around him that would not unclench until morning came.
With the white mist wafting in the air, visible only with the last glimpses of light, a thought crept into Gabriel’s mind: What about the ghost of Thomas Tew?
“Stop thinking about that nonsense,” he scolded himself. “There’s no such thing as the Ghost of Thomas Tew.”
Still, he wished Thomas the Terrible had not mentioned anything about his grandfather’s ghost roaming the woods, sword drawn, looking for the bandits who tried to steal his treasure. Well, thought Gabriel, I’m not a bandit, so what would he want with me, anyway?
Gabriel arranged some pine needles into a bed and laid down. There was only a sliver of moon, and what light it and the stars may have provided, the ceiling of branches and leaves above mostly hid. It was dark now. He couldn’t even see his hand as he held it in front of his face. Gabriel felt around on the ground. He had his drum beside him and clutched his knife in his hand.
As Gabriel lay in the darkness, he began to hear the soft hooting of an owl. He listened closely. At first, he could hear just the faint “hoo-hoo,” but the sound was growing louder now. As he listened, the owl’s voice seemed to change. He sat up in his bed now and listened, “Tewww, Tewww. . . . Tewww, Tewww,” came the call from the woods not far away. Then Gabriel heard a branch crack on the forest floor, several yards away from his bed. He peered into the darkness, trying to figure out what had made the cracking sound. He sat straight up, all of his senses at attention.
“Tewwww, Tewwww . . . Tewwww, Tewwww,” came to Gabriel’s ears again, and then another crack of a branch, this time closer.
He clenched his drum in one hand and his knife in the other. Something was in the woods, watching him. He could feel its presence. He heard another crack, again closer. He stood up, his knife in front of him. A sudden gust of wind split the still of the night, parting the branches overhead just enough to let a glimmer of light down upon the forest floor. He saw a white, wispy figure curling through the night air flying toward him. At that instant, the branches closed again, and Gabriel heard a loud crack just a few feet away. He swung his knife blindly in front of him, but he heard another loud crack even closer. Feeling the mist beginning to wrap around him, he turned and ran.
He ran as fast as he could through the forest, without knowing where he was going. As he ran, he thought he heard the snapping of branches in the darkness behind him. He felt his heart beating and heard his breath, fast and heavy, in the night air. No matter how far he ran, he still felt as if he was being followed.
He tried to speed up, but he was growing winded. Around him, he could hear the wind picking up again and the branches creaking loudly overhead. He was too terrified to turn and look behind him. Running blindly through the thick wood and bramble, Gabriel felt the sting of thorns tearing at his legs, branches whipping his face and arms. A thick vine grabbed his ankle, and he stumbled over some rocks. Unable to break his fall, he landed hard, slamming his head onto the forest floor.