The Golden Flask by Jim DeFelice

defenses a second time."
    The general had a certain mood that came over him when he contemplated a strategic situation. His head tilted down slightly, and his eyes seemed to focus on something inside his mind. Meanwhile, his arms depos ited themselves behind his back.
    Jake, walking at his side, studied the supposed message from Howe. There seemed no doubt that he had written it—but in truth or as a deception?
    "If I am to protect Boston, we must march by the middle of next week," said Washington finally. "It is the last possible moment, and I would be depending on the local troops to hold Howe, if he lands, until I could arrive and counterattack. It is a desperate strategy, but it is the best I can do until his destination is found. At least from here I can go in whatever way is necessary."
    Jake nodded. The consequences of losing any major city would be great, but losing Boston a second time might crush the Revolution completely and would cer tainly end all hope of foreign aid. Jake knew the com mander-in-chief would never say that, however; he would never bring himself to even hint that the war might ultimately be lost.
    The spy slipped the letter back inside the flask and handed it to his commander.
    "I'll leave for New York immediately," said Jake. He had no idea, as yet, how he might find out what Howe was up to, but clearly there was no time to lose worry ing up a plan.
    "If our friends in the city are still alive," said the general, "they may already know the answer."
    Jake nodded, realizing that the general was implying that he feared the worst. "It will be an easy trip then, in and out."
    "If not, your imagination will be put to good use in creating a solution."
    He felt Washington's strength as the general’s strong arm patted him on his back. The Virginian came off stiffly in certain formal settings, but easily relaxed among the small coterie of men who knew him well. He could be a warm and doting uncle, as Jake well knew. And once he took a shine to you, mountains could erode to ant hills before his faith wavered.
    "Four days is all I have, Jake, and even that is cutting the hare's whisker close. If I don't hear from you and the British fleet is still unsighted, I must march for Boston." Washington began striding back towards his aides. "Get some new clothes. Hamilton will give you letters of credit. You'll have need of a fresh horse as well."
    Jake thought of mentioning his friend van Clynne and his petitions, but realized this was not the time for it. He was already trotting ahead, looking for his horse. "I will be back as quickly as possible, sir. And we will have a few rounds of throwing shot."
    "I won't stand you or the rest of my family an advan tage this time," the general called out. He always referred to his staff members as family, and indeed he treated them as such. "I have heard you learned much from the natives during your recent visit with them.”

Chapter S even
 
    Wherein, Jake meets a weaver but not his daughter.
 
    W hile Hamilton led him south of Suffern's Tavern to a small village to see to a disguise, Jake worked his brain around a plan to enter New York.
    The spy had last trod the city streets a month and a half before. His coming and going had created such a stir in the Westchester environs that he felt it would not be wise to enter from that direction again. Like wise, taking the river south, which would be the quick est route, was too dangerous. Jake had almost been hanged on the deck of the HMS Richmond, which Washington's men said was patrolling off Dobbs Ferry; its master bore him a serious grudge and would not be easily fooled by any disguise. And the men on at least one other ship — the galley HMS Dependence — would like to see him displayed high on their yardarm, or perhaps launched in pieces from the massive cannon they carried at their bow. Prudence dictated that his best course was by land south through New Jersey; there were any of fifty places where he might sneak into