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“WE THINK (AT LEAST I do) that we cannot stay in New York and yet we do not know how to go, so we may be properly said to be between hawk and buzzard.” . . . General Joseph Reed in a letter to his wife, September 1776.
Reported at the Fighting Quaker meeting was that following the disaster on Long Island last month, dissention was now rife between the rebel troops and their Patriot commanders, including General Washington, whose leadership was being openly questioned not only amongst his own men, but amongst his fellow officers. In a letter Washington wrote to Congress, whom he blamed for the haphazard manner in which war matters were being handled, Washington himself had disdainfully referred to his troops as ‘contemptible, untrained, and unfit to bear arms.’ It was said that General Washington was now in a quandary as to what to do in the event the British drove his troops from the relatively safe foothold the army now had in Manhattan. Did the Philadelphia Congressmen want the city left standing to be used as winter quarters by the enemy, or should the rebels burn it to the ground behind them if, and when, they left?
A Fighting Quaker member stood and lashed out at many colonial newspapers, the bulk of which were Loyalist owned, whom the fellow maintained had of a purpose lulled Patriot citizens into the false hope of a peaceful conclusion to the war by playing up the peace talks whilst, even as the negotiations in New York City were underway, British troops were advancing up Long Island towards Kip’s Bay, presumably preparing again to attack. Following this disclosure, every Fighting Quake member cried out with both alarm and outrage.
More informed Fighting Quaker members all agreed that without Long Island, New York would be lost. And, as everyone knew, the British now occupied Long Island. With Washington’s troops thinly scattered from one end of York Island to the other meant that any single Patriot regiment could provide only feeble protection to whichever rebel fortification the British chose next to attack.
“With our men scattered thither and yon,” one member declared, “not a single outpost holds sufficient men to fight off the far larger, and stronger, British army. Furthermore, at this juncture, insufficient time remains in which to reconsolidate our troops into one unit should the need arise.”
“Washington’s regiment,” chimed in a young man sitting near Betsy, “is garrisoned at Harlem Heights while Henry Knox’s men are trapped in the downtown area with no way out should the middle section of Manhattan Island be hit next.”
At that disclosure, a shudder shot through Betsy. Henry Knox was Sarah’s husband William’s commanding officer. This was the first time in months she’d heard any mention of the location of Commander Knox’s troops.
The final question put to the group that night was: should Washington remain to fight what could very well become the final and bloodiest battle of the war, or should he once again attempt to withdraw his troops as best he could given their dissimilar locations? More importantly could the rebels escape for the second time in less than a month, or would the British army launch yet another surprise attack upon the rebel troops and this time, quite likely destroy the entire Continental Army?
Everyone agreed that the outlook for the Patriots had never looked quite so grim.
Betsy came away from the meeting with her heart in her throat. The war was definitely not over. On the way home that night, she and her friends, Minette and Emma, all agreed that they had indeed been led to believe that the war was headed for a swift and peaceful conclusion when all along quite the opposite was true.
As the girls were nearing Betsy’s shop, Minette announced that a few mornings ago, her brother had departed again for New York City. The unexpectedness of that disclosure caused Betsy’s head to jerk up.
“François has gone to New York . . . again?”
“Oui.”
“But . . . why? Forgive me,” she faltered. “I-I do not mean to pry. It’s just that, as we learned tonight, the situation in New York is quite volatile.”
“That is why he go,” Minette replied. “François learn that General Washington be in great need for . . .” she lowered her voice, “brave men to spy on the British for heem. He promise to pay his new spies très bon.”
“Oh,” Betsy nodded.
To line his pockets with gold would indeed be sufficient reason to lure François to New York despite the threat of further fighting. However, with Rachel now free of the Frenchman, his sudden departure might also mean that, for the nonce, he had abandoned his quest to ferret out the location of the guns Joseph had plundered from the enemy and to resell the weapons to the rebels for a profit. Far simpler would be the task of altering a few ill-come-by messages and presenting them to General Washington as bona fide intelligence.
Crawling into bed that night, Betsy’s apprehension heightened as she thought further on François traveling to New York for the express purpose of spying for General Washington when, in truth, his loyalty lay with the British. Now, more than ever, the great rebel general needed reliable intelligence he could act upon with confidence. The more she thought on it, the more she became convinced that General Washington should be warned against the Frenchman. François Dubeau was a double spy and the disloyal wretch posed an enormous threat to the Patriot Cause.
But whom could she tell?
Because Dr. Franklin was one of the delegates appointed to meet with the British generals in New York to negotiate the peace settlement, he was presently away from Philadelphia.
Still, she felt duty-bound to tell someone. She had to protect the Continental Army and every Patriot in America from a ruthless double spy bent on destruction. François Dubeau had to be stopped!