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
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
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