We were at supper that night, with the December wind beating in dark waves against the windows, when the front door burst open, admitting a gust of cold air.
“The American army is nearing Princeton!”
It was David. He came in with a clatter, his musket slung over his shoulder. He set it down in the hall and stood with the rain dripping from the cape of his rifle frock.
“Is that any reason to interrupt a man’s supper?” My father looked up from his soup.
“No, sir.”
“You’re late.”
“I know. I stopped to talk about the news.”
“I can’t imagine with whom. Except for Quakers, there’s hardly anybody left in town.”
“With Stacy Potts. Washington’s army left Brunswick with three thousand men and should reach Princeton tomorrow.”
Mother uttered a small cry and put her napkin to her mouth. Father cast her a worried look and spoke even more sternly to David.
“How many times have I told you not to worry your mother? Take off your coat and stop dripping on the floor. I’d still like to maintain some civility in this house, and the approach of an army is no reason to act otherwise.”
“I should be with the army,” David said, sitting down.
“You push me too far, young man,” Father warned. It was an ongoing argument between David and Father. Our militia had left, and Father had managed to keep David from signing on. He was still only fifteen.
“Enlistments expired yesterday, the last day of November,” David said. “Washington needs men. I’m joining up when he comes through. You’ve got to let me, Father.”
My father knew he could not hold David back any longer. “There will be no joining up until your father gives permission, David,” Mother said. “Come, now, eat your soup.”
David obeyed. My father studied him. “Who gave you the news?”
“I told you. Stacy Potts.”
“Where did he get it from?”
“A spy.”
Now it was I who uttered a small cry in my throat. My father looked at me and shook his head. “A spy, is it? I’d heard Washington was improving his spying network. But your spy could just as well have been British, David, passing along the wrong information.”
“The army’s retreating,” David insisted.
“Oh, now, that’s news, isn’t it?” my father said sarcastically. “They’ve been retreating for months. Since they lost the battle of Long Island in August, it’s been retreat, retreat, retreat. White Plains, Fort Washington, Fort Lee, all lost. Washington’s been retreating across the Jerseys since November. Are they still an army? That’s what I want to know.”
“Yes,” David said, “from what I’ve heard.”
“Well, that is news. Eat your supper now and no more talk. We’re upsetting your mother.”
“I’m all right, James,” Mama said. “I’m fine. Do you think Dan is with them?”
“Most likely.”
“How far behind are the British?” she asked David.
“Not far behind, Mother. Cornwallis entered New Brunswick as Washington left. They cannonaded each other across the Raritan River.”
“James, do you suppose all those rumors we’ve heard about the British looting and destroying and killing livestock are true?” she asked Father.
“It is wartime, Sarah,” he said simply.
“Then we should take our valuables to Otter Hall.”
“I should like you and Jemima to go to Otter Hall as well,” Father said.
“We’ll stay together as a family, James,” Mother said firmly. “Most people have left town, but there are still some good people here.”
How I admired Mother’s courage. All through November, when the news went from bad to worse and I knew how worried she was about Dan, she kept on with her sewing for the army and her letters. Her essays appeared in just about every issue of the Pennsylvania Gazette these days. The last one I’d read had said that Washington was paying for the needs of his army out of his own pocket and that our men were tying pieces of cloth around their legs and rags around their feet. Hundreds of them were so sick they could barely walk. And the doctors had no medicines, no spirits, no oils.
I didn’t know where Mother got her information. She had been responsible for getting two wagonloads of clothes north to the army in November. Perhaps the driver whom she had paid to take them had brought back news.
“James, how many pairs of shoes do we have in the shop?” she asked.
“I don’t know that we have any.” He met her eyes across the table.
“But you have blankets. And I’m sure you could get other warm clothing from Otter Hall.”
“Of course, my dear. I should have thought of it.”
“As soon as we’ve finished supper, I’d like the key to the shop,” she said. “Lucy and I will see what is there. Jemima, eat, child. You look so pale. Don’t let the approaching British army frighten you. I was in Boston when it was occupied, and I assure you, the British are not savages.”
Gingerly, after Mama had left the table, Cornelius came into the room. “Sir, if I could talk with you.”
“Yes, Cornelius,” Father said. “If you have any suggestions, I’d be pleased to hear them. Sit. This is no time for formality.”
Cornelius took a chair a bit away from the table. “Sir, if the British come, they’ll take me. They’ll promise me all kinds of things.”
“They’ll promise you freedom,” my father said.
“Yes, sir, that they will.”
“But they won’t give it.” My father was puffing on his pipe. “What do you have in mind?”
“Just that it wouldn’t be good for me to be here when they come. David neither, he bein’ almost of fightin’ age. I could take him and join up with the army when it comes through.”
My father contemplated this. David immediately dropped his fork and was staring, open-mouthed.
“You can’t fire a musket, Cornelius,” my father said.
“I know you could. David here could teach you within the next day or so. Couldn’t you, David?”
“Oh yes, sir! I think Cornelius’s idea is a good one. I don’t think he or I should stay. John Fitch has gone across the river to Bucks County.”
“If I were John Fitch I would go to Bucks County too,” Father said, “with the large contracts he has for the repairing of American arms.”
“I would look out for David, sir,” Cornelius said. “And him bein’ with me, you’d be sure I’d come back.”
Father set down his pipe. Then he looked around the table, to each of us in turn. “Jemima, go into my study and get some parchment, a pen, and some ink, and bring it here.”
I stood up.
“Cornelius, it’s time,” my father said. “I shall write up the documents tonight and set you and Lucy free. David, go and get Stacy Potts and ask him to come and witness the documents. I shall register them with the courthouse tomorrow.”
And so that evening my father drew up the papers and gave Lucy and Cornelius their freedom. We all sat around the dining room table and watched. Stacy Potts arrived and approved, being a Quaker. “Although I do wish you had done it in the Lord’s good sunlight, James, so I wouldn’t have to get drenched in the rain.”
“Lucy”—my father looked at her over his spectacles—“I was hoping you’d stay on with us for the proper recompense. There will be some hard days ahead.”
She stood there with her hands on her hips. “Now, Mr. Emerson, where would I go?”
“She’ll be stayin’.” Cornelius stood with his arm around her shoulder. “And I’ll be back someday too, if you need me.”
“We need you, Cornelius, that we do.” Father answered, choked with emotion. “You just keep an eye on David for us.”
“You mean I can go? I can join when the army comes through?” David couldn’t believe it.
I saw Father seek Mother’s eyes across the table. “It’s best, Sarah,” he said. “Cornelius is right. He’ll be in more danger here when the British come through.”
“Of course, James.” Mother stood up. “Come here, David.”
He went to her and she looked up at him. “If you insist on being a soldier in Washington’s army, you must be a good soldier. Remember all we’ve taught you and always say your prayers.”
“I will, Mama,” David said.
“What is it, Jem?”
I lingered in the dining room when everyone had left. “Father, do you think the spy was John?”
“No, I think it was idle gossip. Such news is not new. You’ve heard from him, haven’t you?”
“The last I heard he was inside British lines in New York. He said there might not be letters for a while.”
“He’ll be all right, Jem. His work is needed more now than ever. Go to bed. Tomorrow you must take Bleu to Otter Hall.”
When I awoke the next morning Father and David and Cornelius had already taken a load of furnishings to Otter Hall. Mama’s good silver pieces and her best pewter and Delft plates went. So did the Persian carpet and Mama’s wedding chest, which was filled with two crewel bedcovers and some of Father’s precious books.
When they came back around noon on that second day of December, they said that General Washington had arrived in town.
“Where?” I asked excitedly.
“He’s been seen down at the river,” Father said. “He seems to have about half his force with him. We inquired and were told that Dan and his men are still at Princeton.”
“Where do you think he’ll stay when he’s in town?” I asked. “Oh, I would so love to see him!”
Father smiled at me indulgently. “His men have been destroying bridges and gathering boats all up and down the river. It looks as if they plan to build a makeshift embarkation dock. I think they mean to cross into Pennsylvania.”
“In this weather, the way the river is so swollen from rain?” Mother asked.
“It’s better than standing and fighting the British, the condition they’re in,” David said.
“But doesn’t Washington have to stay somewhere?” I persisted.
“He’ll most likely be anywhere on the roads between here and Princeton,” Father speculated. “Probably staying at random houses along the way. And the less anybody knows about where he is, the better. God help the man. The fate of the country is with him, and it doesn’t look like a very good fate right now.”
I fell silent. Father put his hand on my shoulder. “He’s retreating, Jem. When a man retreats, he doesn’t send out invitations to tea. Here, where are you off to, David?”
He was on his way out the door, musket in hand. “You said Cornelius and I could go down and enlist this afternoon.”
“You’ll sit down and eat a proper meal first,” Father ordered. “Washington has enough hungry men. He doesn’t need more.”
That afternoon I made a trip to Otter Hall with Lucy and my father. I dressed in my warmest clothes and followed the wagon on Bleu. It was a sad ride. Bleu’s and my happy times were over now. I patted him to warm my hands and tried to keep from crying.
The December wind whistled around me. I pulled my blanket coat tighter. My eyes darted up and down the deserted streets. Perhaps Washington would just take a ride through town and then I could get a glimpse of him in his fine blue coat with the buff facings and his sword and polished boots. Dan had written about what a commanding figure he was and how the men were so in awe of him.
Everything would be all right in my threadbare soul, I thought, if I could just see him. But I did not.