tarring and feathering you so richly deserve.â He answered her openmouthed astonishment with a stern admonition. âI will have my eye on you.â
Jack Hampton hiked up his collar and stormed out the door.
CHAPTER THREE
We have it in our power to begin the world over again.
THOMAS PAINE, Common Sense
Â
Â
Â
Â
April 1776
At the Sign of the Cup and Quill
Â
T HE new day candled at the edge of the horizon. Through a dewy haze, soft dawn illuminated church spires and gabled rooftops, inching in to color the docks and quays, and light the dirt lanes between storehouses, taverns, shops and homes. A crisp, clean breeze bespoke a fine, clear dayâwelcome change after a long spell of rain. With spade on shoulder, Jack Hampton slogged through the sucking mud, glad to see the early-morning streets alive with like-minded men on the move.
The Continental Army had been massing on the island for weeksâalmost fourteen thousand soldiers arrived to defend the city. Jack was among the New Yorkers who were glad to hear General Washington would soon be setting up his headquarters at #1 Broad Way.
A month before, British General Howe woke in Boston to find rebel cannons mounted on Dorchester Heights, and he withdrew his forces and evacuated the town. Attention turned south, for it was clear as glass to anyone who could read a mapâthe Redcoats needed to take New York City.
Unfortunately, Jackâs beloved hometown provided the perfect base from which to quell a widespread rebellion. The quality of her protected harbor was unsurpassed, and the mouth of the Hudson provided as excellent an access to the north as the Atlantic did to the south. British warships menacing the bay gave proof of intent to take New York and nothing could be done to drive them away. Unopposed by naval force, the Asia alone with her sixty-four guns could pound the city to a fine powder in a matter of hours.
While Patriot soldiers marched into town, the civilian population headed out. The daily influx and exodus clogged Broad Way all the way to the Post Road. Docks sat empty. Trade idled. Shops closed. Normal living turned absolutely topsy-turvy.
Jack was proud to be one of the staunch New Yorkers who stayed put and supported the effort to fortify the city against invasion. But many Tories remained as wellâthose who held quiet hope for reconciliation, and to Jack âs utter dismay and disgust, those active collaborators who supported the monarchy. It galled him when the Provincial Congress did nothing to put a stop to the Loyalists who provided food and fresh water to the British warships lurking off Bedloeâs Island. Like a pack of well-fed wolves, the Asia , the Mercury , the Phoenix and the Duchess of Gordon cruised the bay at will, presaging certain perdition.
Jack turned off Duke Street and headed for the sign of the Cup and Quill. Just as he arrived, Sally unbolted the door and opened the shop for business. Jack Hampton filed in along with the ready crowd of eager customers, grabbing his regular seat to the left of the door that Sally had propped open with a tin of lead slugs. Before immersing himself in the latest issue of the Philadelphia Gazette heâd stuffed into his coat pocket, Jack perused the dayâs collection of customers.
Citizen soldiers.
Farmers and tradesmen from every colony volunteered for service, and lacking uniforms, many served their stint dressed in their everyday garb. It was easy enough to identify the origins of the two men in fringed hunting shirts and leather leggings. Propping their long rifles against the wall, the pair of backcountry Virginians doffed battered felt hats and settled in at the far corner table. A group of uniformed soldiers sat at the table across from Jack âs.
New Englanders .
It was difficult to keep track of the sundry uniform types sported by some of the colonial companies. Such a hodgepodge affair, this Continental Armyânigh on
Jack Hampton hiked up his collar and stormed out the door.
CHAPTER THREE
We have it in our power to begin the world over again.
THOMAS PAINE, Common Sense
Â
Â
Â
Â
April 1776
At the Sign of the Cup and Quill
Â
T HE new day candled at the edge of the horizon. Through a dewy haze, soft dawn illuminated church spires and gabled rooftops, inching in to color the docks and quays, and light the dirt lanes between storehouses, taverns, shops and homes. A crisp, clean breeze bespoke a fine, clear dayâwelcome change after a long spell of rain. With spade on shoulder, Jack Hampton slogged through the sucking mud, glad to see the early-morning streets alive with like-minded men on the move.
The Continental Army had been massing on the island for weeksâalmost fourteen thousand soldiers arrived to defend the city. Jack was among the New Yorkers who were glad to hear General Washington would soon be setting up his headquarters at #1 Broad Way.
A month before, British General Howe woke in Boston to find rebel cannons mounted on Dorchester Heights, and he withdrew his forces and evacuated the town. Attention turned south, for it was clear as glass to anyone who could read a mapâthe Redcoats needed to take New York City.
Unfortunately, Jackâs beloved hometown provided the perfect base from which to quell a widespread rebellion. The quality of her protected harbor was unsurpassed, and the mouth of the Hudson provided as excellent an access to the north as the Atlantic did to the south. British warships menacing the bay gave proof of intent to take New York and nothing could be done to drive them away. Unopposed by naval force, the Asia alone with her sixty-four guns could pound the city to a fine powder in a matter of hours.
While Patriot soldiers marched into town, the civilian population headed out. The daily influx and exodus clogged Broad Way all the way to the Post Road. Docks sat empty. Trade idled. Shops closed. Normal living turned absolutely topsy-turvy.
Jack was proud to be one of the staunch New Yorkers who stayed put and supported the effort to fortify the city against invasion. But many Tories remained as wellâthose who held quiet hope for reconciliation, and to Jack âs utter dismay and disgust, those active collaborators who supported the monarchy. It galled him when the Provincial Congress did nothing to put a stop to the Loyalists who provided food and fresh water to the British warships lurking off Bedloeâs Island. Like a pack of well-fed wolves, the Asia , the Mercury , the Phoenix and the Duchess of Gordon cruised the bay at will, presaging certain perdition.
Jack turned off Duke Street and headed for the sign of the Cup and Quill. Just as he arrived, Sally unbolted the door and opened the shop for business. Jack Hampton filed in along with the ready crowd of eager customers, grabbing his regular seat to the left of the door that Sally had propped open with a tin of lead slugs. Before immersing himself in the latest issue of the Philadelphia Gazette heâd stuffed into his coat pocket, Jack perused the dayâs collection of customers.
Citizen soldiers.
Farmers and tradesmen from every colony volunteered for service, and lacking uniforms, many served their stint dressed in their everyday garb. It was easy enough to identify the origins of the two men in fringed hunting shirts and leather leggings. Propping their long rifles against the wall, the pair of backcountry Virginians doffed battered felt hats and settled in at the far corner table. A group of uniformed soldiers sat at the table across from Jack âs.
New Englanders .
It was difficult to keep track of the sundry uniform types sported by some of the colonial companies. Such a hodgepodge affair, this Continental Armyânigh on
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