Young Writers Society

“Paul,” I called.

He swung around, and instantly looked at me questioningly. “What?”

“Why is it you despise Church so?” I asked by lower my voice. Last thing we all need is one of the members realizing we are indeed questioning their loyalty to the Sons of Liberty.

There was a squeaking of the chairs as everyone turned in their seats to stare at Paul for an answer.

“Well, I supposed I am the centerpiece of attraction,” Paul started.

We all remained mute, waiting.

He sighed. “My belief is Benjamin is a traitor. Having seen –“

“Nonsense!” Hancock shouted. “He is a Whig! Never would he –“

“Never would he, what?” Paul challenged.

“Betray us!” Hancock countered.

“Then explain this to me,” Paul said evenly. “Having been on horseback, a month before observing the streets, plainly seen, Benjamin surrounded himself with two of the Regulars, and of interest to me, he was also speaking with Hutchinson.”

“Perhaps he, like so many of us who have asked Hutchinson repeatedly, was hoping to achieve peace by sending the Regulars back home,” John suggested.

Angry murmurs erupted in disagreement.

I stood, furious at that notion, and slammed down my fist for further effect. “Ridiculous! We all know that Hutchinson is a Loyalist. Why would he stick his neck out to help unless of course that person was an ally to the King himself?”

“Sit,” Sam said.

I sat, leaving my remarks open to the table.

“Paul,” Sam started, turning in his direction. “Did Benjamin appear that he was in danger in any point of time you were watching him?”

“Does smiling cheerfully about sum it up?” Paul retorted.

Before anyone could object further, two men rushed inside, and slammed the heavy doors of the Green Dragon shut. We sprang into action, and rushed forward too and aided the doctors who were on each side of the doors, pushing tightly. Paul ran to the left next to Doctor Church, forgetting the treachery, and using his strength to hold the door closed. I joined Doctor Warren and added my own weight by pressing my palms tightly against the wood. The others stayed back behind us, although I did feel someone’s hot breath upon the nape of my neck.

“What is wrong?” I muttered to the floorboards.

“Quick!” Paul yelled. “Find a thick block of wood or something strong to hold them closed!”

The doors banged open a little, and we budged with the force. Mum shouted at the men, rallying them to snap to it. Through it all, a minor thought pushed its way inside. A woman was ordering men but Mum was not ordinary. She knew hardship, and unlike the Adamses and Hancock who came from well to do families, this type of organized work was new to them. Freezing in the heat of battle in uncalled for! I smiled faintly, proud that I had her on my side.

“No! A broom will not suffice! It’s not strong enough, Mister Hancock!” Mum shouted.

I heard the clank of an object hitting the floor. No doubt that Hancock discarded it.

The doors banged again, this time opening even farther than before. The four of us cried out in surprise.

“Hurry!” Doctor Warren wheezed.

“You there! Baster, make yourself useful and find something!” Mum yelled.

“It is Baxter,” he mumbled.

“Shut it,” Mum said. “Apply yourself or get out of the way.”

“Sam!” Paul hollered.

I heard quick footstep pass me. “What do you need?” Sam asked softly. By the tone, it was obvious that he was nervous. Battles were not part of his morals. He was a politician, not a fighter.

“Help Church by holding the door closed,” Paul commanded, then I heard heavier footsteps walk away from us.

“Allow me to take over,” Paul said politely. How he is able to be modest in our predicament is a wonder in itself.

“Good luck,” Mum scoffed.

“You! Go help Samuel and Doctor Warren,” Paul commanded.

Soon, another body joined us. It was John Adams. He looked at me momentarily as we exchanged glances. I felt sorry for him. He seemed awkward and uncomfortable.

“Help,” I wheezed, than dropped my head, applying more pressure.

John eased in between us and offered his own weight against the door.

“And you! Go help the others, Hancock,” Paul growled. “Baxter… Just stay out of the way.”

Heavy footsteps moved quickly to the left, than to the right. The squeaking of the floorboards were our constant reminders that Paul was searching.

“Here! I found it!” Paul called.

There was a thud. The sound reminded me of a body dropping if he drank too much ale. Then, I remembered the Tavern keeper. He was not far from my right side. All this time he has been stock-still. I hope he is alive and well, I said to myself.

We kept pushing by keeping the doors shut, but soon Paul pushed himself roughly in the middle of us, than slammed down an enormously thick block of wood upon two pegs, one mounted above each of the doorknobs on each of the oval doors.

“There,” Paul said, satisfied by his discovery.

We were not so convinced and remained at our posts. Another bang of the doors came but this time, the block of wood Paul put in place held true, and our bodies did not move with the force of the blow anymore.

“Praise Christ that we are alive,” I mumbled, easing away.

Sweat was dripping from the corners of my ears and under my neck. My hands, they shook. I flexed my fingers, hoping that would stop the shaking. No use. The others walked backwards just enough so if need be, we could run forward to the doors again without delay.

“The streets, the people, rioting,” Doctor Warren said. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely upon his forward as well as under his arms.

“How large of a riot?” Paul asked and then narrowed his brows.

“The people, the weaponry…” Doctor Warren remarked to the doors in front of him.

I watched as Paul walked in the direction of the Good Doctor and rested a comforting hand on top of his shoulder.

“Easy, Joseph. Take your time, and explain. What did you see?” Paul said softly to him.

“In one corner, far off, but easily seen, four or five people encircled a Regular. Their Brown Besses, the barrels were lowered at his chest. The soldier, as trapped as he was, fought back with his fists.”

“The streets are swelled with trouble,” Doctor Church said by contributing to Doctor Warren’s revelation. “Every person is locking in fierce fist fights. Some Bostonians we saw were threatening in bayoneting one and another.”

Doctor Warren nodded but his head remained fixed on the doors. “When, within a foot from us, a body was strapped up upon a wooden cross, exactly as a whipping post looked. The head was blazing in fire…”

“The straw of the head burned without farce. There was not a ridiculous sham for this display of effigy. When the body swung, a sign fell. It was hardly scorched but its message rang fear within my colleague and I,” Doctor Church said, picking up the story. He was by far more collected than Doctor Warren. It is interesting too. Earlier, Doctor Warren acted so calm when speaking of the deceased earlier to me, and now, he was a wreck.

“What did the sign say?” Hancock asked.

“Thomas Hutchinson,” Doctor Warren answered immediately.

There was a hushed silence after that.

“Are we trapped in here?” Mum asked finally by breaking the silence.

“For now, yes,” I said, speaking up.

Paul removed his hand from Doctor Warren’s shoulder and moved next to John Adams. “Have any sly ideas on getting out of this mess?”

He shook his head in response. “If I think of any, I will be sure to speak up,” John said.

“What about you, Sam?” Paul asked.

Instead, Hancock unsheathed his sword and raised it high above his head before Sam answered. “I shall meet our foes, and cut them down!”

I was not as eager to participate but I was armed too. It took a few seconds, but I stepped forward too, and unsheathed my knife and hatchet. “These weapons have spilled blood once, they shall again,” I remarked in a less encouraging tone as Hancock.

I was about to make my way over to him, when an arm slammed itself against my chest.

“Mum?”

“You are not going anywhere,” she said sternly. “Neither are you, Mister Hancock.”

“See here,” Hancock objected.

“If you all stop acting like a pack of wolves, you’d know there are solutions. My son has always told me of the Sons of Liberty and how cunning and intelligent men you all are in resolving our plights.”

“He has, has he?” Hancock asked.

“Yes, he has,” Mum said.

I sheathed my weapons and so did Hancock.

“We have two horses,” I said, thinking aloud. “Each animal can carry two people.”

“Assuming the beasts are still alive!” Hancock growled.

“But two horses are not enough. That leaves the rest of us stranded,” John said.

I shook my head in response. “You forgot about Hancock’s coach. It is larg… Wait was your driver still outdoors when you arrived?” I asked Hancock.

Cursing, he nodded angrily. “He probably fled, or did he?” Hancock asked, now addressing the doctors.

“I do not recall,” Doctor Warren replied honestly. “We parked it in the back of the building, remember? And Benjamin and I were stationed in front of it.”

“So, neither one of you never patrolled the surrounding areas near us?” Hancock asked.

“No,” Doctor Church said.

Hancock cursed again, which was almost amusing for me to hear. As a merchant, he carries himself as composed and proper as possible. It was he that taught me early on that bowing in the presence of a gentleman meant mutual respect.

“It seems, gentleman, that my coach is not an option,” Hancock declared as if he was attending a formal gathering, addressing a crowd of aristocrats. If I could gag, I might have tried.

“Surely you have more than one coach?” I asked.

“Of course,” Hancock nodded.

“Then either Paul or Sam can ride to your estate and drive one here.”

“A good as a plan as any,” Paul shrugged.

“Except we forgot yet another detail,” I sighed miserably. “Sam and Paul’s horse are also outdoors. What if someone has harmed them?”

“Shadow Fang…,” Sam muttered.

I instantly shot a glance in his direction. Shadow Fang actually did not belong to Sam but to his cousin, John. I knew better than any person, he cared for the animal deeply. I was fond of the stallion too, very much so. I adored the horse the first time I set eyes on its smooth, sleek fur. The wind tickling my ears and swaying through my hair was a feeling that is difficult to describe in words. One must be saddled, mounted and able to ride with the speed of a horse to be able to distinguish such a thrill.

Regretting thoroughly the possible predicament of Sam and Paul’s riding companions, I tried a different tactic. The thought came quickly and it was downright reckless but recklessness seems to be apart of my traits.

“May I suggest something?” I asked politely.

“What is it now?” Hancock asked irritably.

“Perhaps the horses are safe and secure. We, ah, Paul and Sam tied them off towards the right side of the State House. The doctors have described rioting taking place in front, but no mention of trouble elsewhere.”

“Yes, but we do not know if the fighting is spread out, and not in one section since the doctors did not patrol around the building itself,” John said.

“I realize that. Please let me finish.”

“Go,” Sam said, waving the back of his hand to me.

“I have an idea, a plan if you will. It may or may not work but we have to try something, correct?”

The Whigs, including Mister Baxter, nodded in agreement.

“Good. And we all agree I could be the lightest person present?” I pressed.

“Where is this leading?” Hancock asked curiously.

“Shh! Let Master Garrison speak,” Sam said by putting a finger to his lips, and shutting Hancock up.

“I am the lightest here?” I asked again, addressing the group as a whole.

Some of the Whigs exchanged glances, each looking at the frame of their body such as Doctors Warren and Church who examined each other, then Hancock looked to John. Finally, all of the Whigs again nodded in agreement.

“I am anything but light!” Paul remarked, than smiled briefly.

“Then it is settled. I will go alone, travel to Hancock’s mansion, and find someone willing to drive back here.”

“There is one problem. You very well know that riding is out of your jurisdiction. Besides, the likelihood of selecting a person who is not a Tory is not so simply found,” Sam said. He was rubbing his chin, no doubt mulling over my proposal. “But Paul can, and he, like you know the streets. I clearly remember the days when you indulged in walking around Boston in bare feet.”

“Right, except there is snow outside,” I said, warming up to the idea too. “Still, I can cut linen and wrap them around my feet to protect them while I pad my way to Beacon Street.”

“Excuse me, but what are you two babbling about? And how I am part of this charade?” Paul asked.

I did not bother answering. Instead I acted quickly. I sat on the floorboards, and pulled off Father’s boots and placed them next to me. Still wearing my fur tunic after all this time, I unsheathed the knife, reached behind, and began hacking off the tails. When they came loose, I asked if anyone had twine or something I could use to tie.

By luck, Doctor Warren nodded and walked and bent down, facing me at eye level. He reached in the pocket of his waistcoat, and produced a needle and thread.

“I never leave without these. I never know when I will have to mend someone’s wounds unexpectedly,” the Good Doctor said in a low tone.

“Thank you, but I will only be needing the twine.” He gripped my wrist, turned it so my palm was in plain view, placed the ball of twine in it, and closed my hand, which formed a fist afterwards.

Then, he stood, but before he could move away from me, “Doctor, I still need your assistance.”

Warren turned and knelt next to me. “Yes?”

“Do you have any layers I can use?”

“Only the clothes on my back.”

I nodded, while thinking. After a few seconds I asked boldly, “May I use your Great Coat?”

“I am confused. What for?” Doctor Warren asked.

“May I cut the pockets out of it and if need be, may I cut more of it away? I need fabric that is very warm and dry. Heavy wool will just about do if I run like the wind.”

“This is absurd. Explain further. You are making no sense,” Hancock said, than huffed shortly afterwards.

“It is a tactic my Father taught me except now I am improvising. Those boots I was wearing will hinder progress, plus they will make too much noise. I need to travel in absolute silence. Hence, why I am looking for a way to protect my feet. It is the art of stealth, Gentleman. Please, allow me to do my thing.”

“Yes, pipe down, all of you!” Sam hollered.

“Well? May I, Doctor Warren?”

“What will I use if my coat is cut to ribbons?”

I presented the tails I had just sliced off my tunic and dropped them in front of Doctor Warren. “It is not much, but these furs will protect you from the chill. Sew them wherever you like but it is my only token of a ‘Thank you,’ if you agree. I have not a shilling to pay for a new coat.”

“But I do,” Hancock said. “And I will give you another Joseph if in need of one.”

I shrugged. “Your choice but the tails are there for the taking regardless.”

“Give me your knife,” Doctor Warren commanded.

I handed it to him, and he started cutting away the pockets. The blade is sharp so it did not take long before I had scraps of wool dropped in front of my feet. I did not hesitate either. Snatching the two pieces I wrapped them around my wool stockings. With a thumb, I held the wool in place, and began wrapping the twine tightly over it. When I finished with the first foot, “Could you cut this, please?” I asked Doctor Warren.

He leaned forward, rubbed the blade against the twine, and in broke it in half.

“Thank you,” I said, than tied it off. My left foot was completely covered from the toes to my ankle in two layers. Those were some large pockets!

“I need more to cover this one,” I said pointing to my right foot.

Again, Doctor Warren went to work on his coat and cut away more strips of wool. A few minutes passed, but both my feet were covered in heavy wool. I stood, than held out my hand. He gripped my wrist and I leaned backwards helping him to his feet.

The tails were still on the floor. Doctor Warren never picked them up. It was slightly disappointing but most Bostonians thought I was out of place by wearing pelts anyway. Still…

“The pelts are not satisfactory to your liking?” I probed.

“You keep them. I am a Physician, not a man of the wilds, like yourself.”

I smiled, than bent over and picked up the tails. Walking over to Sam, I gripped his own wrist and raised it so I could see his palm. “I know you are part of the cabinet and are not suited for this.” I placed the tails in his hand. “This is my final ‘Thank you’ for all that you have done for me and my family if I should not return safely.”

Sam stiffened, and looked at me owlishly. The same way right before Father is about to cry. His eyes twitched. If he was fighting back tears, no, Sam Adams is a strong person. With that, I wrapped my arms around, and hugged him tightly, just as he did before.

“Father of a revolution, remember me if I shall not return.”

There was a hard shove, and Sam pushed me back roughly. “Go,” was all he said.

I looked to Mum too and smiled sadly. “Farewell, Mum.”

“Oh, quit with the dramatics. You’ve been around your father too long,” she said.

There was truth in her statement but if it is as dangerous outside as the doctors foretold, then I will need more than luck. I will need Christ’s all Seeing Eye guiding me.

Had it been warmer out, I would have left my tunic too. It was heavy and would certainly be a hindrance while trekking on foot but I still needed something to protect me from the chill.

“Ready, Paul?”

“Lead the way.”

I walked to the doors. Paul reached me shortly. We lifted the block of wood and opened them. “The block is not heavy. One of you can put in place,” Paul remarked hastily.

We turned around and stepped out into a war. The doors of the Green Dragon instantly slammed shut. Paul and I wasted no time. We both high-tailed it towards the back of the State House, and ran in the direction of Beacon Street where Hancock’s house was eagerly awaiting us.