“Steady, man. I've told you before, we'll never be found out. The funds the King's clerks will receive will match the tax records down to the last farthing, and we will simply have disappeared. A small mystery, to be sure, but no one will have any reason to pursue us. Now, carry on as normal and let us speak of this no more until the time comes.”
The voices moved out of range, and Dex ran back to the top of the wall and looked down into the parade ground in time to see two men step out from a doorway in the wall beneath him. The younger one was dressed in the uniform of a British naval officer and the other in a black frock coat. As the men walked away from the wall, Dex realized that he had seen one of them before. The man in the frock coat was a regular attendee of the Sons of Liberty meetings at the Emerald Inn!
Dex stepped into the shadow of a corner guard house and watched the two men walk across the compound and through the arch that lead to the rear dock area. He concentrated to remember everything he could. The man he recognized was tall with stooped shoulders and thin gray hair and as Dex trotted around the top of the wall until he could see him get into a small waiting boat and set off towards the Boston waterfront.
On the trip back to the dock, Dex pondered what he had learned. Obviously, the man in the frock coat was planning to steal tax money with the British officer and someone called the Dutch man, and they were going to run away to Jamaica. As soon as he got off the supply boat, Dex hurried to the Emerald Inn in search of Sam Adams or Will Bamford, but neither man was to be found so he pitched in with the evening chores while nervously awaiting their arrival.
It was full dark when Sam Adams finally walked through the door and headed for his customary corner table. Dex brushed past him with a tray of empty flagons, saying quietly, “I need to talk to you somewhere private.”
Adams stopped and smiled. “Bring us some small beer and biscuits, then,” he said nodding toward his table. “We'll speak in the open as free men do.”
Bringing the tray of food and drink to the table, Dex sat and quickly related what had happened at the fort. “I was in a passageway in the wall and I saw a guy from here, one of the guys that meet in the back room, plotting with a British officer. He's got to be the spy, and he's telling the British guy when your ships are coming, so they can steal the tax money and go to Jamaica.”
Adams frowned. “Slow down, sir. Can you remember what the two men looked like?”
“The British guy was shorter and younger than the other one. He had brown hair and his uniform had three stripes with a circle over them on the shoulders. The other guy had a black coat and gray hair and I've seen...” Dex stopped and shrank down in his chair, staring as several men came through the inn's front door. “He's right there, the guy in the middle.”
Adams turned casually and nodded to the men as they walked past and went into the back room. When he turned back to Dex, his face was impassive. “Although we do not agree with the British customs laws, we must work with those who enforce them.” He tipped his head towards the back room. “Trevor Williams serves the Boston Town Meeting and speaks to the British on behalf of the business community. He is one of the pillars of our struggle for self- governance. The other man you describe is, I believe, Lieutenant Ronald Mapes, a career British naval officer and the commander of the Customs office. It is not unusual for them to speak with one another, in fact it is quite commonplace.”
Dex shook his head. “You don't understand,” he said. “They were talking about stealing the tax money and going to Jamaica with some Dutch man. He,” Dex jerked his head toward the closed door to the back room, “he said they had enough, but the British guy said they could get more.” Dex struggled to remember. “He said something about new information and he wanted to lighten the King's coffers even more and that the other guy, Williams, should act normal and not talk about it.”
Adams leaned back in his chair for a long silent moment. “I must hope you misunderstood the conversation you overheard,” he finally said, “but this appears too serious a matter to disregard. I will convey your information to Mister Bamford this night, and we will find the truth of the matter.” He fixed Dex with a serious look. “For your part, I urge you to speak of this to no one. Continue with your duties here and on the docks and make no attempt to learn more of this on your own. There could be great danger here and I would not have you in harm's way.”
Dex went to bed that night relieved that the matter was out of his hands, but he awoke the next morning worried that Adams had not taken him seriously and determined to find more proof himself. He remembered Will Bamford's instructions to be just a face in the crowd and reasoned that neither Lieutenant Mapes nor Trevor Williams had any reason to even notice him. But mindful of Adams’ warnings of danger and just to be on the safe side, he took a small boning knife from the kitchen as he helped with breakfast. Later, before he went to the dock, he fashioned a sturdy canvass sheath and pinned it and the knife inside his waistband where his shirt would cover the handle.
Over the next week, Dex covertly watched Lieutenant Mapes whenever he was at the fort. He learned that the Customs office was in the passageway where he had overheard the plot, and often saw Mapes in that area, but the British officer did nothing suspicious and he did not see Trevor Williams at the fort at all. Finally, after several frustrating days when neither Adams nor Bamford were around the Inn, Dex decided on a new plan of action. When the usual evening meeting broke up, he slipped out the back door of the Inn and was waiting beside the building when Trevor Williams walked out into the night.
Keeping well back in the shadows, Dex followed Williams as the older man made his way north into a darkened residential section of the City. His leather shoes made no noise on the cobblestone street and he was careful to stay away from the candle-lit windows they passed. When Williams entered the front door of a large house set just back from the edge of the sidewalk, Dex waited for a few minutes and then crept down the side of the house, cautiously peering into each window as he went. He crossed the back and had nearly circled the house when he spotted Williams seated in a pool of candlelight at a desk in a front room. Watching through the window Dex suddenly heard a distant rapping and saw Williams jump to his feet and rush out of the room. Before Dex could decide what to do, Williams returned followed by another man. When they stepped into the candlelight, Dex recognized Lieutenant Mapes despite the civilian clothes and cloak he wore.
The thin window glass did little to muffle the sound of their conversation and Williams' voice was particularly strident.
“I told you never to come here,” he hissed loudly. “If you are seen here, we will be discovered.”
Lieutenant Mapes sneered at the older man. “I will not be seen and the time to worry about discovery is almost past. Unless you have new information for me, we will intercept the Frenchie this week and be that much richer for our troubles.”
Williams paced. “I have no new information,” he said. “We have word that she will make landfall two nights hence, twenty miles to the north as planned.”
Mapes dropped into a chair and swung his feet up onto the desk, glancing idly around the room. “And we will be there to meet her,” he said with a wolfish grin. “It would not do for the King to be cheated of his lawful customs duties after all.” He chuckled. “I have word that the Dutchman will be here in no more than a fortnight and after that we will be away and set for life. I do hope King George and your Sons of Liberty can do without our services.”
Williams pushed Mapes' booted feet off his desk. “You make light of this, sir,” he said, “but if we are caught, you will but be branded a thief, while I will be hung as a traitor. Now leave my home and take care not to be seen.”
Dex hurried to the corner of the house, arriving in time to see Mapes walk out the front door and stride off toward the waterfront. He followed at a distance, hanging well back until he saw the British officer climb into a small boat and row out into the dark harbor.
“The customs men are go
ing to intercept a ship they called the Frenchie, twenty miles north of here in two days,” Dex panted. He had run all the way from the waterfront to the Emerald Inn and was once again sitting with Sam Adams at his customary corner table. “Then they're going to meet up with a Dutch man within four nights and run away,” he said.
Adams frowned. “There is a French ship expected this week,” he said, “but how do you know of it?”
“I heard Mister Williams and Lieutenant Mapes talking. They were at Mister William's house last night.”
Adams' frown deepened. “I believe we agreed that you would not pry further into this matter,” he said. “If this plot is true, these men are taking an enormous risk and, I'm sure, would stop at nothing to keep their activities secret. I must strongly insist that you allow Mister Bamford and me to handle it.”
Dex nodded contritely. “I was just afraid that they would both disappear and get away with it,” he said.
“Well, if your understanding of their plan is correct and they do 'get away with it', it seems that King George would suffer the loss of his tax money, and we would be rid of a spy in our midst,” Adams mused. “Not an altogether bad outcome however, Mister Bamford reports that he has been able to uncover no evidence whatsoever that Mister Williams has entered into any plot or agreement with Lieutenant Mapes. Still, one hates to think of miscreants going unpunished, and we will continue to look into the matter. Perhaps we can devise a way to expose whoever is relaying information to the British officials. In any event, your only task is to continue your duties at the docks. Keep your eyes and ears open and do nothing more. Do you understand?”
For the next two days, Dex made the supply run to Castle Island, but try as he might, he could not see any evidence of an impending customs raid. The soldiers and customs officials appeared to have nothing on their minds beyond the fresh food aboard the supply boat, and the small cutters in the island cove were unattended. At the end of the second day's trip, Dex returned to the Emerald Inn disappointed and afraid that he had imagined the whole plot. Neither Sam Adams or Mister Bamford were at the Inn that evening and, after his chores were finished, Dex went to bed mired in self-doubt and sure that he would be ridiculed in the morning and, worse, not trusted in the future.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Dex awoke to the sounds of howling wind and driving rain beating on the stable roof. He smiled at the prospect of a day off from the supply boat, but then his face fell as he remembered he still had to face Sam Adams and admit his mistake in accusing Trevor Williams of being a spy.
Dex did his morning kitchen chores, but had little appetite for the breakfast the cook set before him. Later, the dining-room was full despite the weather and he kept busy clearing tables and cleaning pots until well after the noon meal. He finally took a break but had no sooner sat down in the kitchen with a biscuit and mug of cider when Betty came in a placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Mister Adams asks that you attend him in the dining room,” she said.
Dex jumped to his feet and rushed out of the kitchen, his meager meal forgotten in his haste to get the dreaded meeting over with. He flinched at Sam Adam's grave countenance as he took his seat at the table.
Adams locked eyes with Dex for a long moment before speaking. “It would seem that at least your information about a customs raid was correct,” he said slowly. “The French sloop, Isabel, was boarded by British officials as she docked at a small port north of here last night and she and her entire cargo were impounded.” He hesitated. “This has happened before, but there is still no evidence of who gave the information to the British.”
“But I heard them,” blurted Dex. Mapes and Mister Williams talked about it and...”
Adams held up a cautionary hand. “We are not discounting what you heard,” he said, “however at this time is would be your word against theirs. They would but have to deny the allegation and, having heard it, would be warned of our suspicions. We must try to devise a way to uncover their alliance, but that chore will fall to Mister Bamford and I. You must continue your visits to Castle Island without drawing any attention to yourself. Can you do that?”
Dex nodded, relieved that he had not been wrong, but secretly determined to find the evidence Adams needed.
The next day dawned clear and dry, and Dex once again made the trip to Castle Island with the supply boat. By now, he was an accepted figure at the fort and he drew no attention as he strolled past soldiers and customs officials, casually listening to their conversations. When he climbed to the top of the wall, he could see a small sloop, which he assumed was the Isabel, riding at anchor off the south side of the island, but he saw no sign of her crew or cargo. He was descending the inner stairwell when he met a figure climbing the steps. Dex stepped aside, shrinking against the wall when he recognized Lieutenant Mapes.
“What are you doing here, boy,” said Mapes staring intently at Dex with cold blue eyes.
“N, nothing, sir,” stammered Dex. “I was just looking at the harbor.”
“I've not seen you before. What's your name?”
“D, Dexter, sir. I work on the supply boat and sometimes I have time to explore before...”
“This is a British military installation,” Mapes interrupted coldly. “Your explorations are not welcome and if I catch you prowling around here again, you'll explore our prison cells. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
After a long, calculating look Mapes nodded and said, “Good. Now, get out.”
With a quick bob of his head, Dex edged past Mapes and ran for the supply boat.
By the time they docked at the waterfront, Dex had recovered somewhat from the encounter with Mapes and resolved not to tell Sam Adams or Will Bamford about it for fear that they would not let him continue to help. Despite his resolve however, he was not entirely disappointed when Abner told him that there would be no supply voyages for the next three days.
With some free time at his disposal the next day, Dex turned his mind as to how he might gather incriminating evidence against Trevor Williams. He knew that, except for two servants, Williams lived alone. He worked as a bookkeeper in a small shipping office near the waterfront and spent most of his days either there or at a small nearby inn. He rarely frequented the Emerald Inn except for his attendance at the back room meetings.
Dex reasoned that Williams would not keep any incriminating evidence in the office where he worked with other people so if anything was to be found, it would be at his house. He had walked past William's house several times during the past two weeks, but it seemed that one or both servants were always there during the daytime. On the second evening after his run-in with Lieutenant Mapes, Dex left the Emerald Inn as soon as he saw Williams enter the back room for the evening's meeting. He trotted through the twilight, using side streets and an alley he had scouted out, quickly arriving at the rear of Williams' house.
Dex flattened himself against the rear wall of the house, suddenly uneasy with a strong feeling that he was being watched. After a moment, he shrugged it off as a simple case of nerves and, mounting the single wooden step, lifted the simple latch and opened the door into a large kitchen. With a final guilty glance behind him, he slipped silently inside and closed the door.
Chapter 14
In the dim light of a single small lantern atop a large table in the center of the room, Dex could make out a counter along the wall to his right and wooden cupboards flanking an open doorway with stairs leading up on the opposite wall. Directly ahead was another open doorway leading towards the front of the house. Dex crept silently to the bottom of the stairs leading up, listening intently. He could hear the faint deep rumble of a man's voice, and then a higher pitched feminine giggle. He stood listening for several long moments but then, as the voices did not seem to be coming closer, moved to the other doorway determined to investigate the rest of the house. He slipped down the hall which had a small dining room to the right and beyond that, at the front of the house, a smaller pa
rlor with a stove and another stairway leading up. Off the left side of the hall was one larger room with a fireplace, the den in which Dex had seen Williams and Mapes the week before. Nervously listening for the servants and wishing he had a flashlight, but really unsure of what he was looking for anyway, Dex looked around the desk and bookshelves. There were papers and ledgers which he could not read in the near dark and a table of what seemed to be maps alongside a large globe on an iron stand. Dex had seen small shuttered candle-lanterns at the inn, and he soon decided that he would have to come back with one another time to continue his search. He stepped back into the hall and had turned toward the kitchen doorway when the front door abruptly opened with a spill of lantern light that lit the hall and froze him in his tracks.
“Peter? Cleo?” called Trevor Williams from the doorway, at first puzzled then demanding. “Who is that? Stop there, stop I say. Help, Thief!”
The sound of boots hitting the floor over his head finally unfroze Dex's feet. Without waiting to hear more, he bolted down the hall and through the kitchen with the sound of yelling behind him and heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs to his right. He slammed open the back door and sprinted for the dark safety of the alley. Three strides inside its shadows he vaulted a fence on the left and cut through the back yard of the house next door. Running flat out and already breathing hard, he could hear footsteps behind him as he jumped a woodpile and scaled a second fence. Careening around an outhouse and then a small shed, Dex rolled over a low stone wall and landed on the edge of a large community vegetable garden. Scrambling on hands and knees, he dove into a pile of hay and put his head down, trying not to breathe as the footsteps pounded closer and then, mercifully, past into the night.
An hour later, Dex arrived back at the inn and crept up into his room, badly shaken but more determined than ever to find the evidence against Trevor William.
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