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AUGUST 1776
At the next Fighting Quaker meeting, members were brought up-to-date on the state of the war in New York. Rebel commanders were still wondering when and from where the British would strike next. General Washington was begging Congress to supply him with additional troops and much-needed provisions. More and more rebel soldiers were giving up the fight and either heading home, or switching sides in the hope of enjoying more hospitable conditions. That evening fliers were circulated amongst the members indicating where a man could enlist . . . various pubs facing the waterfront, or inns and taverns along King’s Highway. Of special interest was that cash bonuses and free farmland were now being offered to new enlistees who served out a full term.
The August night was hot, and on the way home, Betsy, Minette and Emma, who had earlier untied the long sleeves from their gray gowns in an effort to stay cool, talked about what they had learned at the meeting. Betsy asked Minette if François had yet returned from New York and what, if any, news of the war had he ferreted out whilst there?
“François no yet return from heez jour-nay,” Minette replied.
“Why did your brother go to New York and with whom does he stay?” Emma asked.
Betsy was glad Emma asked the questions as it saved her the trouble of attempting to learn the truth from Minette without appearing to pry.
“François stay with bon ami from Anglais school.”
Because she could not resist, Betsy did inquire if her brother’s English friend was a Loyalist?
Sighing, Minette nodded. “I sometime wonder how my brother stay friends with those loyal to Anglais king.”
“If François knew about the offer for free land,” Emma said, “he might be persuaded to join the rebel army. I intend to tell my cousin Thadius about it. He has not yet enlisted but I daresay this generous offer might be sufficient to persuade him.”
“I wish we could think of a way to help our troops,” Betsy said. “With winter coming on, the men will need warm mittens, and mufflers, and warm woolen stockings.”
“Perhaps we might make mittens and stockings and send them to the soldiers,” Emma suggested. “We could begin knitting now before winter sets in. Mother would help.”
Betsy leapt on the idea. “Perhaps we could go door-to-door and ask ladies to donate cast-off clothing, and yarn. The three of us, and any other Patriot woman who’d like to help, could gather at my shop to knit.”
“How shall we get the clothing to the men?” Emma asked.
“Perhaps François know where to deliver things,” Minette supplied.
“Having so recently been in New York,” Betsy remarked, “François should know exactly where our Patriot troops are quartered.” And, if he did not know . . .
Before parting ways that evening, the girls decided to begin knocking on doors the very next day. However, as Betsy was nibbling bread and jam the following morning, it occurred to her that for her to openly solicit donations for the rebels would clearly disavow her claim as being sympathetic to Loyalists. Therefore when Emma and Minette appeared on her doorstep, she said she thought it best if she remained at the shop so as to be on hand if ladies should arrive to deliver yarn, or clothing. When Betsy’s friends left, she began laying out supplies in preparation for an afternoon of sewing with the women.
Before Minette and Emma returned, Sarah appeared, excitedly waving a letter she had just received from William.
“He knows!” she cried. “William says the troops know that German soldiers are en route to New York!”
Betsy’s eyes widened. Perhaps this spy business had merit, after all.
“I am convinced is it due entirely to our efforts to get word to General Washington! Just think of it, Betsy, it is almost as if we’ve become bona fide spies!”
Betsy smiled tightly. Though she longed to share with Sarah her efforts in that area, she dared not. “What more does William say?”
“I shall read his letter to you.” Before Sarah took a seat, she asked, “What are you preparing to work on now?”
“Emma and Minette and I have decided to knit mufflers and stockings for the troops,” Betsy continued to rummage through storage bins in search of colored yarn. “Would you like to help?”
“Of course, I shall help. But, first, I will tell you what William wrote.” Sarah’s eyes scanned the page. “He says that although the uncertainty is vastly unsettling, every day that the British do not attack gives the rebels another day to strengthen their fortifications. He says every morning when the men awaken they brace themselves for an attack which thus far has not come. His Excellency, General Washington believes there is ‘something exceedingly mysterious in the conduct of the enemy.’ William says the troop’s desperate need for bullets is so great the men have begun to dig lead from church windows in order to recast it as bullets.”
“Oh, my.” Betsy looked up. “Apparently desperate times indeed call for desperate measures.”
“He says that in lieu of ammunition, the men are filling barrels with dirt and arranging them in rows so if the British attempt to climb over their fortifications, they can roll the barrels down upon them.” A worried frown marred Sarah’s features. “What a dreadful way in which to protect oneself. I do so wish we might make bullets to send to the men along with warm stockings.”
“If Joseph is successful in capturing the British ships he means to plunder, perhaps he and his crew will abscond with the enemies own ammunition and distribute it amongst our troops.”
“Oh, Betsy, do you think he will succeed?”
At that moment, Emma and Minette stepped into the shop exclaiming over their success in canvassing the neighborhood. Minette crossed the room to dump the contents of her apron onto Betsy’s worktable. “I receive much yarn for stockings. And such pretty colors, oui?”
“More than a dozen ladies agreed to help,” exclaimed Emma. “Some are coming now.”
A whirlwind of activity ensued. Sarah stayed on to help as the women arrived carrying yarn and knitting needles. Although the ladies chatted and laughed as they knitted, they were all aware of the serious nature of their mission. When Sarah relayed the contents of the letter she’d received, other women chimed in with tales of appalling conditions their menfolk were enduring. One remarked that a staggering number of men had succumbed to malaria; that even Commander Nathanael Greene had contracted the dreaded disease. Still, before sundown, more than a dozen pairs of red, green, yellow and blue woolen stockings had begun to take shape.
“I do hope the bright colors will not give away our army’s position to the British,” remarked one woman with a laugh.
“I daresay the warmth the stockings will provide will offset any harm the bright colors might cause,” Betsy said. She thanked the ladies for their help and was gratified when many declared they’d come again tomorrow.
Although Betsy was uncertain if further efforts on her part to spy on the Loyalists would prove useful to the rebel troops, she was certain that to supply even a few of the rebel soldiers with much-needed warm stockings would protect more than a few toes from frostbite come winter.
Quite weary that night from her exertions, Betsy had only just climbed the stairs to bed when an insistent rapping at her front door set her pulse pounding.
* * *
HOLDING A SPUTTERING candle aloft Betsy retraced her steps back through the darkened house to the front door. Who could be calling at this hour? So far as she knew, both Joseph and François were away and Sarah never went out alone at night.
Rap-rap-rap!
Whoever it was had no intention of leaving without rousing her.
“Betsy, it’s me. Joseph. Open the door.”
Her eyes wide, Betsy set down the candle and anxiously unlatched the front door. “What is it, Joseph? Are you hurt?”
“No.” He rushed inside, bringing with him a sweep of humid night air. “I cannot stay long but I had to see you before I set sail again.”
He latched the door himself, and snatching up the candlestick, rushed through the house. The flickering flame threw shadows on the painted walls as Betsy, enjoying the fresh outdoorsy scent that trailed after the ruddy seaman, hurried to keep up with his long strides. It surprised her when instead of entering the parlor, Joseph headed for the rear door. He handed the candlestick to her before lifting the heavy bar that lay across the door.
“Where are you . . .?”
“I leave on the morrow but before I go, I wanted to bring a few things to you . . .” The rest of his words were lost as he charged out the back door and seconds later, returned lugging a bulky parcel. He set it down in the middle of the parlor, a perplexed Betsy holding the candle aloft.
Joseph hurried back outdoors and returned with an even larger crate, which he set alongside the first. “Turned out the British ships we plundered were carrying a good deal more than guns and ammunition. Light another candle, love.”
Betsy did so while, across the room, Joseph ripped into one of the crates. The room now fairly glowing with light, Betsy was astonished as Joseph drew out one lovely gown after another, a dozen or more pairs of frilled sleeves, half a dozen stomachers, lacy chemises and scores of petticoats. Also in the box were dozens of pairs of silk stockings, soft slippers, kid gloves, and even a ruffled parasol!
Nearing the bottom of the first crate, Joseph gazed up at her. “Thought ye might like to leave off wearing your gray frocks for a spell, lass.”
Her eyes alight Betsy fell to her knees. “I’ve never seen so much finery in all my life!” She reached to stroke a blue silk gown.
“The color of that one matches your eyes,” he said. “Here, try the slippers. Softest kid I’ve ever felt. I’ll wager there will be some mighty disappointed officer’s wives in New York City.”
“Oh, Joseph, perhaps I shouldn’t . . .”
“Rubbish! You’ve heard tales of British soldiers looting Patriot’s homes and taking whatever they like. You’ve as much right to this as they.”
Betsy tried on the slippers and reaching for the parasol, began to dance around the room. “I feel like a princess in these slippers. They’re as soft as a cloud!”
He sat back on his heels. “You’ll look like a princess wearing these frocks.” He dug to the bottom of the box. “Never seen so many unmentionables all in one place.”
Betsy parked both hands on her hips. “I would think it unlikely you have ever seen unmentionables!”
Joseph roared with laughter. “Try on this bonnet, love.”
Betsy carefully settled the frothy confection adorned with lace and ribbons atop her chestnut curls. “I shall wear it to church on Sunday.”
Joseph gazed up with admiration. “If I were here, sweeting, I’d accompany you. Got myself several new pairs of breeches, and coats with velvet cuffs. Linen shirts, too. And shoes with silver buckles.”
Betsy held up a pretty stripped gown. “Oh, Joseph, do I dare wear such lovely things? What will people say?”
“Hang what folks say. Your Uncle Abel imports finery from all over the world; they’ll assume he’s supplying you with new frocks.”
“What’s in the other box?” Betsy asked.
“More of the same.” Joseph laughed.
Betsy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what to say.”
He rose to his feet and caught her about the waist. “Say you’ll think of me every time you wear one of these fancy gowns.” He gazed down into her glittering blue eyes. “Just promise me you’ll not wear one of them if you step out with the Frenchman again. By the by, I’ve learned something about him that will interest you.”
“I’ve no intention of ever stepping out with François again!”
“Good.” He drew her closer. “I think about you every night before I drift off to sleep, Betsy.” His warm breath fanned her tousled curls as he lowered his head for a kiss.
“I think about you too, Joseph.” She snuggled against his muscled chest. “I prayed you would return home unharmed and God has granted my request. I am so thankful.”
“Unfortunately, I am not here to stay.”
She frowned. “Must you sail away so soon, Joseph? Why?”
“I’ve prisoners aboard the Swallow and dozens of crates of muskets and ammunition. We’re off to New York. I only put in here to see you. Brits had drifted so far off course, turned out we were closer to Philadelphia than New York. My friend’s bark sailed on ahead. I’ll catch up to him tomorrow.”
“How can you be safe with British soldiers aboard your ship?”
“Not soldiers. Limeys. I may hire one or two. The rest I’ll turn over to the rebels when I drop anchor there.”
“But how will you know where to go? They say New York harbor looks as if all England is afloat.”
“I know coves and inlets the British know nothing of. I’ve sent word ahead to a rebel commander to be on the lookout for us.”
“But those waters are sure to be dangerous,” Betsy protested.
“Even if we blow off-course, two more ships entering New York harbor flyin’ the Union Jack will scarcely be noticed, let alone remarked upon.” He drew her hand to his lips. “By the by, the red coats you adorned with all that gold braid did the trick. We boarded those Tory ships and plundered ‘em without firing a single shot. Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
Betsy joined in his satisfied laughter. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I figured you deserved a share of the spoils.” He bent to kiss her again, then straightened. “I must go now, lass. Bar the door behind me.”
“Thank you for all the lovely gifts, Joseph, and promise me you’ll be careful.”
He dashed out and Betsy heard him cluck the horse pulling the cart into motion and it clatter off down the street. She assumed the equipage belonged to his aunt and that he’d gone to see her before he hurried here.
Back in the parlor, Betsy fell to her knees and spent another half-hour drawing costly items from the crates. Uncovering half a dozen woolen cloaks, she decided at once to share her bounty with her sisters, and Emma and Minette. At the bottom of the box she found enough black tea to also distribute amongst her friends and Sarah, as well as, sugar, spices and coffee. Gazing with wonder at all the treasures, she hoped that in addition to the weapons Joseph was taking to New York, there was also a supply of warm men’s clothing, and foodstuffs for the troops.
Eventually, Betsy climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. Joseph was indeed trustworthy and she had nothing to fear from him. Before drifting off to sleep, however, she realized he had neglected to tell her what he had learned about François.