Liberty 1784: The Second War for Independence (43 page)

Epilogue

A
few dozen mounted scouts under William Washington rode well ahead of the main body as it entered the city of New York. Behind them came a company of mounted rangers led by Owen Wells.

The British appeared to have left the devastated city, but no one trusted them. The last of their ships, a pair of frigates, were still in sight but well out of cannon range and headed towards the Narrows. The ship of the line carrying Lord Charles Cornwallis was but a distant speck on the horizon. But who knew if they’d left bombs or assassins in the ruins of what had once been the proud and prosperous city of New York?

The scouts signaled that all was well and the main body, some fifty senior officers on horseback, plus a thousand or so infantry marching behind, moved cautiously forward. After a while, they reached the tip of Manhattan Island and halted.

“What a dismal sight,” General John Stark said. There was no argument. They were surrounded by ruins. Before leaving, the British had torched what remained of the city and blown up the fortifications in what appeared to be nothing but an act of mindless spite.

“No matter,” the general said laconically. “New York didn’t exist at one time and it can be built again.”

This was important as a rebuilt New York was high on the list of possible locations for the capital of the new country. The congress currently resided at Philadelphia, and there was agitation for a decision to be made regarding its permanent location. Was it to remain in Philadelphia or elsewhere, such as New York, or even a new city that would be built in the south? Some were campaigning for such a new city along the Potomac River. For the time being, it would be in Philadelphia.

Even if New York didn’t become the capital, the magnificent harbor and the wide Hudson River leading to the country’s interior meant that a new and prosperous city would soon be rebuilt on the site.

It had been a year since Burgoyne’s surrender at what Americans were referring to as the Battle of Fort Washington, despite the fact that Fort Washington had been a couple of miles away from the fighting. But then, thought Will, the battle of Bunker Hill had taken place on Breed’s Hill and nobody seemed to care.

Burgoyne had been paroled and allowed to go home in disgrace, while his army had been held in captivity until a treaty was signed. When that occurred, the British found to their dismay that about half the men taken prisoner had no intention of returning to Great Britain. The addition of several thousand trained soldiers was welcomed by Stark, although many in Congress argued that, with victory, there was no need for such a large standing army.

Numerous people had escaped death on both sides. Tarleton and Arnold had emerged in Canada after a long trek through the woods, and Simon Girty was now active down the Mississippi, stealing and killing near Spanish-held New Orleans.

On the American side, John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, and Henry Knox had escaped from captivity on Jamaica, thanks to the exploits of John Paul Jones. Diplomat John Laurens had been released from the Tower of London. He and John Jay had negotiated a treaty between Great Britain and the colonies. After the defeat at Fort Washington, the British decided they wanted nothing more to do with fighting the thirteen colonies who were now calling themselves the United States of America. The defeat had struck George III particularly hard and there were rumors that he was mentally unhinged by the event.

Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration of Independence, was dead of a fever that had gripped him while in prison. Dead, too, was Benjamin Franklin. His aging body had finally given out, but not his mind, which had remained sharp and clear to the end.

Franklin’s death had struck Sarah particularly hard. She had come to love the old man as a father or grandfather. Will had become fond of him as well, and his well-attended funeral had served as a memorial for all who had died in the war and the final battle at Fort Washington.

Will was maybe fifty yards behind the more senior officers and generals, which gave him time to think and muse. He realized that he had ridden past the spot where the prison hulk
Suffolk
had gone down. There was nothing, not even a piece of rotten wood sticking out of the water to remind him of that horrible part of his past.

To his astonished pleasure, Homer had simply showed up the night before. He’d been living in Halifax, Canada, and had returned to see just what the new nation would be like. Since he considered himself to be a rebel, he was uncomfortable with the fact that thousands of Tories were migrating to the Halifax area. He also wanted to see what remained of the city where he had spent almost all of his life.

“It’s my home and the home of my ancestors,” he’d said. “Of course I’m interested in what’s going to happen. If I like what I see, I’ll return here, find a good woman and set up shop doing odd jobs. It’s also too damn cold up in Canada. Of course, I’ll probably have to stop stealing stuff and killing people.”

“Probably a good idea,” Will had said with mock solemnity.

“Unless, of course, they try to cheat me or steal from me. Then they might deserve it.”

“Understood. Now, do you still call yourself Homer or something else?”

Homer had laughed. “My real name
is
Homer. Homer Brentwood, and I come from a long line of Brentwoods and, no, I have no idea where the name Brentwood is from. I was having you on when I said that Homer might not be my real name.”

They’d spent the rest of the evening talking and catching up. Homer declined to march in the victory parade. Instead, he was back with Sarah, waiting for the reoccupation of the city to take place.

Benjamin Tallmadge had suffered an emotional collapse and simply disappeared. It was said that he felt responsible for the carnage of the battle. After all, it was Tallmadge who had Hannah forge Cornwallis’ signature to a “message” from Cornwallis ordering the army’s return to begin within a week of receipt. Owen, dressed in a British uniform, had delivered it. Even though the battle had resulted in an American victory, it had been too much bloodshed for Tallmadge to deal with.

But that was the past, Will reminded himself. Now the future beckoned. He spotted the waterfront land that Hannah Van Doorn and the Goldmans had recently purchased from Tories who were more than willing to sell at almost any price. Will wondered just how he was going to like working for a woman in the import-export business. He was a shareholder in their venture, but only a junior one. He would stay with the army for the time being, and then become a merchant.

He expected he would do no worse than James Fitzroy, who was now married to the very clever Hannah. Fitzroy had tendered his resignation from the British Army after seeing Burgoyne safely on his way back to England and whatever the fates had in store for him. The British Army had said, in effect, that they didn’t much care what he did.

Before dying, Franklin had made it clear to anyone who would listen that the only way to ensure and preserve peace was to prepare for war. He was certain that the British would be back, and that the Spanish and French would be looking for American weaknesses to exploit. Stark emphatically agreed.

Marriage. He thought of Sarah, who was now very pregnant. If they had a boy, they would name him Benjamin Franklin Drake. If a girl, they hadn’t made up their minds, although Sarah had laughingly ruled out Will’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion of Benjamina.

Will wondered if other marriages wouldn’t soon occur. Catherine Greene was more and more seen in the company of John Stark. Widow and widower, Will thought. Why not? Neither seemed concerned about the age discrepancy, and Cathy Greene had been much younger than her late general husband.

And did Stark have political ambitions? John Hancock was currently president of the new nation, but the constitution called for free elections. What would happen the first time they occurred and an incumbent was defeated? Would there be a peaceful transition of power or a civil war?

Already, also, the southern states were arguing that the prohibition on slavery was causing them economic ruin. Will thought it was good that there was no crop that required large numbers of laborers, or slaves, like the growing of sugar in the Caribbean did. Until such a crop came along, if one ever did, perhaps slavery would remain a dead issue.

When the ceremonial retaking of New York was over, Owen and Faith would return to her old home in Pendleton, Massachusetts, while Sergeant Barley had agreed to farm Will’s place in Connecticut now that Will’s thieving relatives had departed to Canada.

It was all so neat, or it seemed to be. Things had a habit of unraveling, however well-laid plans might be.

Stark dismounted. “We will build a fort here.” No surprise. He was at the spot at the tip of Manhattan where earlier forts had been constructed. “It will defend the island and serve as a testimonial to our existence as a free nation.”

“George Washington would have loved it,” Will said to Owen who had ridden up beside him.

“You ever meet George Washington?” Owen asked.

“A handful of times, but nothing of significance. He had more important things on his mind.”

Washington’s mortal remains—his skull and a handful of bleached bones in a leather container—had been turned over to Stark by Cornwallis as a goodwill gesture. He could just as easily have dumped them in the river, but he hadn’t. Now they were interred at Washington’s estate at Mount Vernon at the request of his widow, Martha, who had been living quietly with relatives. There had been thought of building an enormous cathedral for his remains, but the forceful widow had put her small foot down and the thought was forgotten. For some reason, the British hadn’t destroyed the Washingtons’ elegant Mount Vernon home. Perhaps they had envisioned a plantation on the Potomac as a residence for some new British lord once the war was over.

The British frigates had disappeared from view. The last of their sails vanished beneath the curve of the earth. “They’re well and truly gone, Will,” Owen said.

“Truly gone indeed, Owen, but now we have a nation to build.”