TW10 The Hellfire Rebellion NEW (6 page)

There were merchant ships and schooners. sloops. whalers, ferries, fishing ketches and ship's lighters, and even a British man o' war, the
Romney
. with its seventy-four guns. They had passed her on the starboard side and just beyond her. Drakov had seen another British naval vessel, the schooner
Lawrence
. He smiled as he saw the Royal Navy ships. He bad timed his arrival perfectly. Boston seemed a lovely, graceful. tranquil city as they sailed into the harbor, but it was a hotbed of rebellion, a powder keg just waiting for someone to ignite the fuse.

"Americans are the sons. not the bastards of England!" The words were William Pitt's, spoken in the House of Commons, and widely quoted three thousand miles away in Boston. Readers of the
Boston Gazette
hung anxiously on every word spoken in Parliament by men like William Pitt and Col. Isaac Barre, who had fought gallantly in the French and Indian War and was a good friend to the colonists.

Drakov had seen Col. Barre take the floor in Parliament and reply to Charles Townshend in the debate over Lord Grenville's Stamp Act.

"Will these Americans," Townshend had said indignantly. "children planted by our care, nourished up by our indulgence until they are grown to a degree of strength and opulence, and protected by our arms, will they grudge to contribute their mite to relieve us from the heavy burdens which we lie under?"

To which Col. Butt had replied, "They planted by
your
care? No, your oppressions planted them in America! They fled from your tyranny to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, where they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships of which human nature is liable, and among others, to the cruelty of a savage foe, and yet actuated by the principles of true English liberty, they met all hardships with pleasure. compared with those they suffered in their own country from the hands of those who should have been their friends! They
nourished
by your indulgence? They grew by your neglect of them! As soon as you began to care about them, that care was exercised in sending persons to rule over them in one department and another, men whose behavior on many occasions has caused the blood of those sons of liberty to recoil within them!"

Sons of Liberty! It had a ring to it. A small group of patriots in Boston known as the Loyal Nine had read that speech in the
Gazette
and from that moment on. they became the Sons of Liberty, an organization that would grow with each new outrage visited upon the thirteen colonies.

A large percentage of the colonists were still loyal to the Crown. but more and more were having second thoughts. They recalled the words of William Pitt. who had said in Parliament, "When trade is at stake, you must defend it or perish!"

Nor was Pitt the only one in England sympathetic to the colonists. King George.

however, was determined to be firm. If America successfully asserted its right to reject British taxation, might Ireland not be next? But as stubborn as King George was, the Sons of Liberty were equally determined.

At the urging of the Boston patriots, the Stamp Act Congress had been convened in New York City. It was the first real united assembly of the colonies.

The representatives met to discuss a course of action and there was much talk about the Virginia Resolves, authored in the House of Burgesses by the brilliant young lawyer, Patrick Henry. The Resolves asserted that Americans had the same rights as Englishmen to be taxed only by their representatives. But Henry went still further, maintaining that only a colony's legislature, and not Parliament, could tax its citizens.

The next few years would mark an important turning point in history. The people of the thirteen colonies were not yet ready to accept the idea of independence, but the actions of Sam Adams and the Sons of Liberty would soon provoke a series of events that would work to change their minds. Only what would happen. Drakov thought, if someone were to stop them?

He stepped off the ship onto Boston's Long Wharf, which jutted out two thousand feet into the harbor, so that even the largest vessels could come in to its south side at low tide On the north side of Long Wharf stood warehouses, shops. and counting houses. It was a small spit of the city running out into the bay. Drakov found a dock porter to see to the unloading of his trunks, then hired a carter to deliver them to the home of Jared Moffat on Newbury Street. No sooner had the caner loaded up and started off than the dock began to clear. A moment later. Drakov saw the reason why. A longboat with armed sailors from the
Romney
was pulling in. The word was quickly passed among the workers on the dock.

"
Press gang! Press gang!"

Men often died at sea and the captain of the Romney was apparently shorthanded. He had sent a ship's officer and a party of armed men ashore with instructions to secure replacements. As the press gang came ashore, Drakov watched them form up on the wharf and march off toward the taverns on the waterfront.

Curious, he followed them to a public house called The Bunch of Grapes.

The officer quickly scanned the tables in the tavern. The room had gone dead silent. Them was a suspicious dearth of able-bodied seamen.

"
Y
ou, there!"
said the officer, pointing to a man slumped over in his chair, with his head down on his arms. The man did not respond. Two of the Navy men quickly made their way to him and dragged him to his feet. His head lolled and one of the men pulled it back up with a sharp yank on his hair

"I said,
you
!" the officer said curtly. frowning at the drunken man. "What is your name?”

"F-Furlong. sir." the drunk stammered. and alarm showed in his face as he became aware of what was happening to him.

"You have the look of a seaman about you." said the officer.

There was utter silence in the tavern. Drakov leaned against the bar and watched. He was quite safe. No British officer would ever dare impress a gentleman.

"I—I already have a ship," said Furlong, looking around for help. None was forthcoming. "I—I serve aboard the
Boston Packet
."

"The
B
oston Packet
, is it?” said the officer, with a smile.

Drakov noticed a small group of older men seated at a table in the corner.

One of them nodded to the others and his companions quietly got up and left the tavern.

"Y-yes. sir." said the drunk, sobering rapidly as panic mounted. "Moored at Hancock's Wharf, sir."

"Hancock," said the officer. "I know that name. A notorious smuggler."

"I—I know nothing of smuggling, sir," protested Furlong.

"I'll warrant that you do." the officer replied. "Well. Mr. Furlong, your smuggling days are over. You have been impressed into the service of His Majesty's Royal Navy. We will conduct you to the Boston Packer and collect your gear."

"You will do no such thing." a soft voice said.

The officer spun around. "
Who said that
?"

"I did." said the man sitting at the table in the corner.

He was in his forties, of medium height and build, with bright blue eyes. a slight paunch, and receding brown hair. His dress. though somewhat sloppy, showed him to be a gentleman. but he had apparently gone out in public without his wig. A sign that he was either slovenly or absentminded. His red broadcloth suit was rumpled and his boots were unpolished. There were dark smudges of printer's ink upon his cuffs.

The officer glared at him. "And who the devil might you be, sir, to speak in such an insolent manner to an officer of His Majesty, the King?"

"My name is Samuel Adams," said the man. And looking past the officer, he added, "Take heart, Mr. Furlong. These men shall not take you anywhere against your will."

"Are you aware. Mr. Adams," said the officer, that it is treason to resist impressment or to counsel others to do so?"

“And are
you
aware, sir." Adams replied calmly. "that since the time of good Queen Anne, by act of Parliament. it has been illegal to impress sailors in American waters?"

"We are ashore sir," said the officer.

Adams smiled. "I think the statute was intended to apply to those ashore, as well. You know that as well as I."

"Well, in that case sir you may complain to Parliament," the officer said, with a contemptuous sneer. He turned back to his men. "Take him."

The panic-stricken Furlong turned to Adams.

"Never fear." said Adams. "You have friends."

With a snort, the officer beckoned to his men and they dragged Furlong outside. Adams made no move to get up from his chair. Curious, Drakov followed the press gang as they frog-marched their captive to the
Boston Packet
, moored at John Hancock's wharf. An angry crowd was waiting for them there. The men of the press gang hesitated, looking to their leader.

"Go on." the officer snapped at them. "They dare not interfere."

He was dead wrong. A stone sailed out from the crowd, striking one of the sailors in the forehead. He cried out and brought his hands up to his face.

Another followed and another and moments later. the press gang was rapidly retreating in a hail of rocks and bricks as the angry crowd pursued them to their longboat. Outnumbered as they were, the press gang knew better than to try to use their arms against the crowd. They piled into their longboat and quickly pulled away, their officer, blood streaming from his face, shaking his fist at them in fury. A cheer went up and the rescued Mr. Furlong was hoisted up onto their shoulders and carried to the tavern, where he happily celebrated his narrow escape. Drakov looked around, but there was no one at the table in the corner. Sam Adams had quietly disappeared.

The carriage let Drakov off in front of the Moffat residence on Newbury Street. A pretty young woman dressed in servant's clothes answered the door. Her eyes grew wide as she saw Drakov and she curtsied deeply.

"Welcome, Master." she said, looking down at the ground. She stood aside to let him in and shut the door.

"Do not address me as 'master.' Sally." Drakov said. In private, you may call me Nicholas. In the presence of others, you will call me 'sir.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, Nicholas."

"Good. Go tell Moffat I am here."

"No need." said Moffat. from the stairway. He came up to Drakov and held out both hands. "Welcome, Father."

Drakov winced. "How many times must I tell you'? You are not to call me that. Nor 'master.' either."

Moffat dropped his arms and looked stricken. "Forgive me. In my delight at seeing you again, I had forgotten."

"See that you do not forget again," said Drakov. "Remember that we are both gentlemen here, of equal standing. When the time comes, you will introduce me to your friends as Nicholas Dark, a gentleman of independent means whom you knew well in London."

"Yes, I remember,” said Moffat.”I will not slip up again. I swear. Sally, brew some tea."

As Sally hurried to do Moffat's bidding. Drakov glanced around at the elegant appointments of the home. "You have done well,” he said.

"I've followed all of your instructions to the letter," Moffat said.

"Excellent. Then the meeting place has already been secured?"

"A small country chapel in Cambridge. not far from Harvard College." Moffat said. "Well set back from the road and isolated."

"Good. We shall look at it tomorrow. In the meantime, you can bring me up-to-date. I'd like to get started as soon as possible. What about the horseman'?"

Moffat smiled. "He has already made his first appearance. I'm pleased to report that it was quite effective."

"You had no difficulty with the fugue clocking sequence?"

"I did it exactly as you've taught me," Moffat said. "It worked perfectly." He smiled, “Even better than I expected. One of the Sons of Liberty actually threw a knife at me. I activated the preprogrammed sequence, clocked out for an instant, and it appeared as if the knife passed through me. You should have seen their faces!"

"Perfect." Drakov said. "Since they are so fond of terrorizing people. let's see how they respond to some of their own medicine." They sat down at the table as Sally brought in the tea and served them. "What is your assessment of their leaders?" Drakov asked.

"Well, their real leaders remain behind the scenes, for the most part."

Moffat said. "John Hancock quietly pursues his shipping interests and thanks to all the money his adoptive father made in smuggling. he lives in regal splendor in his mansion up on Beacon Hill. 'King' Hancock. they call him. But while he remains essentially above it all, he funds most of the radicals' activities. James Otis is already beginning to show the symptoms of the insanity he will succumb to before long. He's a highly eloquent speaker in the Assembly, but his manic depressive tendencies are already very much in evidence. He succumbs to frequent mood swings and often has a tendency to rant for hours on end. He's alienated many of the others and though he recently won reelection, many of the citizens are starting to regard him as a fool. John Avery is less a leader than a follower. He's Harvard-educated, a merchant who's quite active in society. but not really a force to be reckoned with. Benjamin Edes and John Gill are chiefly propagandists. They publish the
Boston Gazette
and write whatever Adams wishes them to write, whether it has any bearing on the truth or not. Edes is rather temperamental, but like Gill and Avery. he. too. is more of an Indian than a chief. Joseph Warren's a good man and Josiah Quincy is one of their best speakers. He can really fire up a crowd. But the real power behind the Sons of Liberty is Samuel Adams."

"Yes, of course." said Drakov. “I saw him earlier today."

"Really?"

“We did not exactly meet." said Drakov, "but I saw him neatly foil the intentions of a Royal Navy press gang. Tell me more about him."

"There's quite a lot to tell," said Moffat. "His father. Deacon Adams. was a prosperous merchant who owned his own wharf and a brewery on Purchase Street. As a young man. Sam went to Harvard and lived rather elegantly. His classmates called him 'the last of the Puritans' because he was never known to smoke or drink, take snuff or consort with women. He still likes to play up to that pious image, but the fact is that he can drink most men right under the table. Harvard ranks their students by their social standing and young Sam was ranked fifth in his class. He took his social standing very seriously. He didn't even eat with the other students in the dining room, but instead dined privately, like an aloof young gentleman. All of this changed for him practically overnight.