Willing to Die

Beth looked at John Hancock and Samuel Adams. They seemed stunned by the news.

“Explain yourself,” Samuel Adams said.

Paul Revere moved around the table. “The British officers know you are Patriot leaders.”

Beth gave a little gasp. The men were in great danger. The British were after them.

Paul Revere said, “The British believe you have important documents. Those documents show where the militia’s weapons and ammunition are stored.”

John Hancock and Samuel Adams looked at each other.

“If they capture you, they can hang you for treason,” Paul Revere said. “And they’ll ruin our means to fight.”

“When will they take action?” Samuel Adams asked.

“Soon,” said Paul Revere. “They’re up to something. A number of small boats with British soldiers were launched last night. The boats have been positioned close to the men-of-war.”

“Men-of-war?” Patrick asked. “Do you mean more soldiers?”

“Not soldiers,” Samuel Adams said. “Battleships. They carry cannons powerful enough to destroy a fort.”

“I must get back to Boston,” Paul Revere said. “Be warned. Hide our weapons and any important papers you have.”

Everyone said good-bye. Paul Revere left. Beth heard his horse’s hooves clomp away.

The other men made plans. “First,” Samuel Adams said, “someone needs to watch over Mr. Hancock’s carriage in the stable.”

Patrick volunteered to guard it. Beth felt proud of her cousin.

Then Reverend Clarke returned. “I suspect we’ll have a busy day tomorrow,” he said.

“Good,” Samuel Adams said to Patrick. “You’ll sound the alarm if someone tries to look inside it. We can hide it in the woods tomorrow.”

“And the spies?” asked John Hancock.

“Tied up and locked in the cellar,” replied Reverend Clarke. “I hope they like snakes and potatoes!”

The rest of the day was quiet. Then everyone went to bed. Beth said good night to Patrick. She stood at the front door and watched him. He walked through the dark toward the stable.

Just then Beth heard a loud bang from around the house. Patrick must have heard it too. He changed direction to follow the noise. Beth ran after him.

They both reached the cellar door at the same time. It was lying open.

A twig snapped farther away near the woods.

Beth gasped. Two large shadows were disappearing into the trees.

“The spies!” she shouted. “They’ve escaped!”

Beth’s shouts brought the house to life. Reverend Clarke ran to the front door. He began barking orders to his older boys.

“Go to the tavern and find the landlord, John Buckman,” he commanded. “Call out the minutemen to search for the spies. Tell Hancock we need more men to guard this house.”

Clarke’s oldest son signaled two of his brothers. Then off they raced toward the tavern.

Reverend Clarke waved to Patrick. “It’ll be safer if you spend the night in the kitchen,” he said. “We’ll trust God to watch John Hancock’s carriage.”

Patrick was relieved. Fear of rats was bad enough. But fear of the British spies would’ve kept him awake all night.

Patrick lay on the hard wood floor of the kitchen. He stared at the ceiling. He listened to bumps, thuds, and soft grunts.

Some men patrolled outside the house so everyone could sleep safely.

The next two days went by quickly. Patrick and Beth joined in the work around town. The cousins moved the ammunition and supplies to safer places.

The Clarke children hid the carriage in the woods and moved important papers to the tavern.

Patrick was surprised at the clever places the Clarkes found to hide weapons.

He saw Patriots stash musket balls in the hollows of trees. Small packets of gunpowder were hidden in kitchen pots. Then the pots were topped off with grain and flour.

Patrick helped bury muskets in boxes. Or hide them behind false walls in houses. He helped bury boxes of firearms under farm crops.

Patrick and Beth returned to the Clarke’s house at the end of each day.

At the end of the second day, they walked around to the back of the house and found Sybil. She smiled at them as she dismounted Star. Next to her was a tall brown horse. Its mane was jet black.

Patrick heard drums beating in the distance. Rat-a-tat-tat.

They reached Sybil and she said, “Something’s happened.”

Sybil raced around to the front of the house. Patrick and Beth followed.

They both stopped when they saw the reason for the beating drum. On Lexington Green men marched and drilled to its tapping. Each man wore a triangle-shaped hat and held a musket.

Patrick watched the drills. His heart pounded with pride and fear.

Old and young men marched. They were Patriots practicing to fight for their freedom. They were going to take up arms. They would fight against the king’s soldiers who were oppressing them. They were willing to die for what they believed in.

Beth stood at Patrick’s side.

“What’s today’s date?” he asked her.

“I don’t know exactly,” she said. “Sometime in April 1775. Why?”

“I think we’re watching the warm-up for battle,” Patrick said. “Remember the Battles of Lexington and Concord?”

Beth gasped. “Something happened before that,” she said.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“Paul Revere’s ride,” she said.