Soul Seekers (11 page)

27

Cas had managed to get as far as the Boston neck, moving under Kip’s guidance: the old man knew Boston and the surrounding countryside like the back of his hand. Kip sneaked them past the British sentries at the city gates and the picket lines to the south, who weren’t aware of the search for them yet, and down toward Roxbury before they turned right and followed the shoreline.

‘Where are your friends, boy?’ Kip asked.

Cas ducked down alongside Kip and Joshua behind a large tree as several Hessian cavalry walked past them, a wagon rolling on the uneven track.

‘They were sailing toward the shore opposite Boston,’ he replied. ‘We’ll meet them there.’

Kip shook his head. ‘There’ll be cavalry looking for them. Those Hessians back in Boston seemed mighty keen to apprehend you all. What’s their beef?’

Cas got up and started walking again as the horsemen vanished into the distance.

‘They think we’re spies,’ Cas explained.

‘You’re not spies?’ Kip asked in surprise. ‘Suppose you’d have to say that though, if you’re a spy or not.’

Cas managed a smile. ‘Something like that. We’re not from here, Kip, or at least not
right
here. We just need to get back to Lincoln.’

‘That’s not so far,’ Kip pointed out. ‘We could be there by nightfall if we hurry.’

‘Believe me, it feels a long way away right now,’ Cas replied.

Joshua was mumbling quietly to himself as he walked with his book clasped tightly across his chest. Cas couldn’t understand what he was saying but his eyes were glazed with a strange, vacant sheen, as though he were a blind man.

‘What’s up with your father?’ Kip asked, eyeing Joshua.

‘He’s sick,’ Cas said. ‘That’s why we have to get him back to Lincoln. There are people we know there who can help him.’

It took them almost an hour to walk along the main road, sneaking past Roxbury Fort and up toward the Charles River. They were almost to the south shore of the river estuary when Kip whispered a harsh warning for them all to get down.

Cas responded instantly, staying low in the underbrush and pulling his reluctant father along behind him as they crept forward to the edge of the riverbank. Ahead, he could see a dozen or so Hessian cavalry standing on the wetlands beside the lapping waters of the Charles River. Among them, Lieutenant Silas Du Pont was gesticulating wildly, his face flushed with rage as he pointed at the three miserable captive standing on the shore. Siren, Emily and Jude were marched away toward a large boat that was sailing toward the cove.

Cas made to move, but Kip’s old hand on his shoulder restrained him.

‘There’s nothing you can do, son. You’ll just end up captive with them.’

‘He’s right,’ Joshua said, his eyes briefly focusing on the present. ‘We need to come up with a different plan.’

Cas felt a rush of relief as he realised that his father seemed to have recovered. ‘Dad, we need to get them out.’

Joshua glanced briefly at Siren, Jude and Emily, and sighed. ‘There’s nothing that you can do for them, Cas’, not right now. Our best bet is to make contact with the patriots.’

‘Who are the patriots?’ Cas asked.

Joshua opened his mouth to reply, but then his eyes glazed over and he began mumbling to himself. Cas’s heart sank as Kip replied instead.

‘The patriots are the rebels, the men fighting for a country of our own, under General George Washington.’

Cas watched his friends being shackled and led away to where a rowing boat was moving toward the shore from the larger vessel.

‘They’ll be held in jail,’ Kip said, ‘sure as the sun rises. It won’t be easy to free them.’

Cas finally accepted that Kip was right and his gaze naturally travelled to his left, further inland. There, in the distance, he could see a large force of cavalry riding slowly toward them. He had never seen so many horses all in one group before, but he recognised the penant fluttering on the wind above them, carried by a trooper on horseback: a red striped banner and a blue square with white stars arranged in a circle.

‘Patriots,’ Kip said, bursting with pride. ‘George Washington’s army’

‘You think they’ll arrest us?’ Cas asked nervously.

Kip shrugged. ‘I ain’t certain, but although you all talk strange you’re surely Americans and that’ll carry a lot of weight with the folks inland.’

Cas was about to reply when they heard the metallic snicker of a rifle being cocked behind them. Cas, Joshua and Kip turned slowly to see half a dozen patriot soldiers aiming their weapons at them.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ one of the soldiers growled.

Cas glanced over his shoulder in time to see his friends being rowed away swiftly as the patriot cavalry galloped toward them. A flurry of gunshots cracked out between the two forces as the Hessians retreated toward their ship.

Joshua again seemed to snap back into the present.

‘Our friends have been arrested,’ he said to soldiers, ‘by the Hessians. We need your help.’

The soldiers grabbed hold of Joshua and forced him onto his knees as they produced manacles and linked his wrists together behind his back.

‘Sure you do,’ their officer replied caustically.

‘We haven’t done anything wrong!’ Cas snapped in protest. ‘Why are you arresting us?’

‘Because we don’t like thieves,’ the officer shot back and then looked at old Kip. ‘Isn’t that right, Kip?’

Cas looked at the old man in surprise. ‘You know each other?’

Kip winced in shame. ‘I stole his horse, once.’

Cas rolled his eyes in disbelief as his wrists were shackled together. ‘Great. One minute we’re spies, the next we’re thieves.’

‘Spies?’ the patriot officer snapped. ‘You’re
spies
?’

Cas was about to vigorously refute the officer’s claim when the spark of an idea flashed through his mind.

‘Why do you think half of us have been arrested?’ he challenged the officer. ‘We’ve been inside the city, we know what state the redcoats are in. Don’t you think that your general would want to get that information?’

Cas saw his father’s eyes widen in disbelief but he managed to keep his gaze fixed on the colonial officer.

The officer peered at Cas suspiciously. ‘You know General Washington?’

Cas took a calculated guess. ‘No, but I know he’s wanting to attack the city. If he does, he’ll be repulsed. He’s got to take the high ground to the south instead or this will be over by the end of the week.’

The soldiers chuckled amongst themselves. The officer looked down at Cas with a pitying look.

‘And how would a little boy like you be knowin’ that, then?’

‘Because I’ve met the commanding officer of the Hessians, and he said it himself. The redcoats are going to try to attack you,’ Cas replied. ‘And when they do they’re going to have two thousand mercenaries to help them.’

When the officer simply stared at Cas in amazement, Cas stepped forward.

‘And I know how to defeat them,’ he said.

* * *

28

The wind was cold as the horses rode through broken forest alongside the banks of the Charles River, heading toward the small town of Cambridge. The low clouds scudded across the bitter landscape and Cas could see tiny specks of snow blustering between the trees.

He was perched on the saddle of a horse being ridden by a patriot officer who stank of dirt, tobacco and alcohol. Cas guessed that the soldiers drank to stave off the bitter cold, and the tobacco was a habit that almost everybody seemed to have.

The town before them seemed to crouch low against the wind, the trees bare as the cavalry rode through and stopped outside an elaborate house. A few lights glowed from the windows out into the gloom. The riders dismounted, the officer lifting Cas down from the saddle, and they were led up to the steps of the house.

‘I get to meet the commander of the army?’ Kip uttered in amazement.

‘Be quiet,’ the patriot officer snapped. ‘You’re wanted for theft in Middlesex County, remember?’

Kip said nothing in reply as the door was opened.

Cas felt a waft of blessed warmth rush from inside the house into his face as some kind of aide de camp, or maybe a butler, stood back for them to enter. Cas was guided inside by their escort, Joshua and Kip following. The rest of the soldiers remained outside as the officer and two chosen men cleaned their boots before leading them through the house to a drawing room.

The officer checked his appearance briefly before knocking on the door.

A voice answered, muted by the thick oak panels. ‘Enter.’

The officer opened the door and stepped inside, guiding Cas ahead of him. Joshua and Kip followed, but the two escorting soldiers blocked their way with their rifles. The officer looked back at them over his shoulder.

‘Not you two,’ he snapped.

‘But they’re with me,’ Cas said, glancing at his father in panic.

‘And you’ll have seen everything they have, presumably,’ the officer replied. ‘I’m not about to let a thief in here. Your performance will decide whether they spend tonight in a bed or in the prison.’

Cas saw his father nod once, encouraging him onward, and he watched as the two escorting soldiers reach out and slammed the heavy doors shut behind him.

He turned slowly and looked about the drawing room.

The walls were lined with large canvasses of country scenes, battles and pictures of men in long wigs astride horses and wearing clothes that had frilly collars and cuffs. Lanterns flickered and a fire crackled in a huge fireplace to his left, filling the room with warmth. In the centre of the room was a large, heavy looking table spread with maps and papers. Standing over it was a tall, imperious looking man in a military uniform.

‘General Washington, sir,’ the officer addressed him formally. ‘We found this young’un out near Boston, fleeing the redcoats. Claims he’s a spy.’

‘A spy, Captain Mitchell?’ Washington echoed. The general stepped out from behind the desk and strode toward Cas. ‘A little young for a spy, aren’t you?’

Think about your answer, Cas
. He took a breath.

‘The enemy think all spies are adults,’ he said, ‘easier for us to slip past them.’

‘Us?’ Washington queried him.

‘My friends,’ Cas replied. ‘They were arrested by the Hessians before they could escape Boston.’

Captain Mitchell spoke up. ‘Three more children. The Hessians got them out on a boat before we could reach them.’

Washington appeared confused as he looked down at Cas.

‘I do not recall sending spies into Boston,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘especially not children.’

‘You didn’t,’ Cas replied. ‘We come from Lincoln. Ever since the battles of Lexington and Concord took our families from us, we’ve tried to help the insurgency by spying in Boston. There are lots of us.’

‘The information coming out of Boston is good,’ Mitchell admitted. ‘We get to know what the redcoats are doing before they get the chance to do it.’

‘Which is why, I take it, that you are here?’ Washington demanded.

‘Aye sir,’ Mitchell confirmed. ‘He says he knows about a forthcoming attack by the redcoats.’

Washington’s gaze snapped down to Cas, his features creased with concern. ‘Tell me, now.’

Cas sucked in another breath. ‘No.’

George Washington’s thick grey eyebrows rose up his head as Captain Mitchell shook Cas’s shoulders.

‘You tell the General what you told me, that the Hessians will attack, or by God I’ll have your hide striped by the lash by sundown!’

Cas stood his ground and shook his head. ‘No.’

Captain Mitchell raised the back of his hand to swing at Cas, but General Washington’s own hand whipped out and caught it before it could crack across Cas’s cheek. The general leaned in close to Cas.

‘Tell me, everything, or I’ll set this man’s hand free.’

Cas swallowed but held his nerve. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ Washington uttered impatiently.

‘I want something in return.’

George Washington stared down at Cas for a long moment and then the glitter of fury in his eyes changed into something more like amusement, as though he could not believe what he was hearing. Slowly he released Mitchell’s hand and gestured to Cas’s shackled wrists.

‘Unburden him,’ the general ordered. ‘He’s hardly a physical threat.’

Mitchell undid Cas’s shackles, and he felt a wave of relief as he rubbed his wrists.

‘What,’ the general demanded, ‘is it that you want?’

Cas looked up at him. ‘The Hessian mercenaries are arresting people and either having them hanged or selling them to press-gangs working for the ships in Boston harbour. My friends are with them and I want them back.’

Washington raised an eyebrow. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

‘I’ll buy them back,’ Cas said.

Washington raised his head as he made the connection. ‘Ah, I see. And for that you would need money. How much, precisely?’

‘The mercenaries are selling deck-hands for a Massachusetts Pound, so I’ve heard,’ Cas announced.

‘Twenty shillings a piece?’ Washington echoed. ‘You want me to give you sixty shillings before you’ll tell me about your supposed information, which may be useless to me anyway?’

Cas gestured to the maps on the big table.

‘You’re thinking of attacking Boston, when the river freezes over,’ he said.

Washington stared down at him in amazement. ‘How would you know that?’

Cas ignored the general’s question as he replied. ‘If you attack, the redcoats will be ready for you. You have guns being sent this way, correct?’

Washington glanced at Captain Mitchell in disbelief. ‘Yes. What of it?’

‘Use them to fortify Dorchester Heights,’ Cas advised, struggling to remember his history lessons in high school. ‘From there you’ll be able to cover the entire city and harbour. With the redcoat’s navy and supply vessels under threat, they’ll quit the city within a month.’

Washington almost laughed. Cas kept his features straight. The general stared at him for a few moments longer.

‘And this attack?’ he asked. ‘By the Hessians?’

Cas shook his head. ‘Sixty shillings and the chance to rescue my friends from Boston. That’s my price for preventing your entire army from being slaughtered.’

General Washington’s features darkened. ‘I have several thousand men here.’

‘That’s a lot of lives to be gambling with,’ Cas said. ‘You want to risk them, or sixty shillings?’

Captain Mitchell stepped forward. ‘He could be a redcoat spy, he knows too much.’

‘I’m not,’ Cas insisted. ‘We would hardly be being arrested and sold into slavery by our own people.’

‘That all depends,’ Mitchell said, ‘on what crimes you’ve committed.’ The officer looked up at Washington. ‘He runs with known thieves, general. One of them is standing right outside this very room.’

The general turned away thoughtfully and stared out of the windows at the cold, grey afternoon outside.

‘An attack on Boston, under my guns, could end the siege of Boston,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘I have a council of war shortly that will decide upon whether to launch the attack.’

‘Abort it,’ Cas insisted. ‘If the attack were to fail the redcoats will be encouraged. As things stand now, they’re under siege with nowhere to go and fear that your army is growing stronger by the day. Fortifying your position will only increase their anxiety.’

Washington nodded slowly and turned to Captain Mitchell.

‘Contact the commissariat and obtain sixty shillings in coin,’ he ordered him. ‘Then have the guns from Ticaronda taken to Dorchester Heights.’

Mitchell’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘You’re going to alter your strategy based upon the word of a child?’

‘I’m fourteen,’ Cas corrected him.

‘Do it,’ the general insisted. ‘Give the boy the money, but keep his two friends here.’ Cas turned to face the general, who smiled grimly down at him. ‘I like your spirit boy, but I know nothing of your mind and by God I won’t risk either my guns or my reputation on your word alone. If the ploy fails, your father and the thief will be sent back to Boston to face their fate.’

* * *