“The perfect disguise,” Revere said. He attached it to the front door, explaining how, positioned in its original shape, it indeed represented Irish feudal loyalty to royalty. But repositioned in the shape of a heart flying out of a crown, it represented freedom from the tyranny of King George—and would serve as Revere’s signal to Aunt Polly that he had another delivery of tea to make.
Revere then turned to Tobias. “Your late father would have been proud. Few people know it, but when he was crushed at the Massacre, he was actually on a secret mission for the Sons of Liberty. He’s an unsung hero of the Revolution, and I would be honored to take his son on as an apprentice silversmith. What do you say, Polly?”
Aunt Polly saw little choice but to agree. It would be one less mouth to feed. And Tobias wasn’t all that good at sweeping hearths. Plus Polly had already hired out her eldest daughter, Abigail, to the Reveres as a housemaid.
Tobias moved into Revere’s house that very day, marveling at his good fortune—the very first of his life.
For the next few years, Tobias virtually forgot he was a Jonah. He loved apprenticing for Revere. Partly that was because Revere was a kind and patient teacher, partly because Revere was given to reciting riddles and off-color poems as they worked. But mostly it was because Revere thought Tobias had a real talent for smithing.
Which was why, when Royal Magistrate Benedict Hagmann commissioned Revere to forge a handbell for the high court, Tobias was immediately put on the job. (Ironically, the bell—which was to be cast in the finest silver—would be rung at the trials of Patriot traitors and tea smugglers to pronounce them guilty. Which wouldn’t be very often. Because, even more ironically, the royal magistrate had himself been one of the so-called Mohawks at the Tea Party.) Unfortunately for Tobias, Hagmann’s son, Ian, was also hired to help out. He claimed to be keen on silversmithing as a trade.
Tobias took an instant dislike to Ian. Though both boys were the same age—born, in fact, on the very same day—they were nothing alike. Ian was a snob, claiming to be descended from one of the Puritan families that had first settled Boston. He was also lazy, refusing to do any of the more menial tasks and foisting them all on Tobias. Ian much preferred gossiping with Tobias’s cousin Abigail, who often sat in a corner of the workshop to do the household mending or peel potatoes, since she too liked listening to Revere’s colorful stories and poems.
Progress on the bell was slow, especially when Revere started riding to New York and Philadelphia as a messenger for the Sons of Liberty. Tobias and Ian had little choice but to turn their attention to a backlog of teapot and candlestick orders. It was in fact during one of Revere’s absences that Ian first showed his true colors. He brought Francis Hopkinson, a distant cousin visiting from Philadelphia, into the workshop.
“What are you stitching?” Francis asked Abigail.
“’Tis nothing,” Abigail said, flushing crimson. “A way to amuse myself with odd ends of cloth in my spare moments.”
“Go on then, hold it up!” Ian said. Reluctantly, Abigail held up a rectangular banner of red and white stripes. On a blue field in the upper-left corner she was affixing five rows of white stars.
“You’re making a flag?” Ian said. “What on earth for?”
“Every new country needs one,” Abigail said, shrugging.
“What do you think of it, Francis?” Ian said. “I’ll have you both know Francis is an amateur draftsman and songwriter.”
“Stars and stripes?” Francis said. “The design scheme isn’t very original. Nor is the color palette. It’s the exact same as England’s.”
Abigail flushed an even deeper crimson.
“It’s all a new country would ever want in a flag,” Tobias reassured her.
Abigail rewarded him with a grateful smile.
“The Colonies won’t, in any case, be needing their own banner,” Ian said. “The Sons of Liberty are trying their best to work out their differences with King George through diplomacy rather than violence.”
“News to me,” Tobias said. Revere was quite vocal about the fact that the Sons of Liberty soon planned to tell King George exactly what he could do with his taxation without representation. “Which side are you on, anyway?”
“Why, the right side, of course,” said Ian.
He and Francis left the shop.
“What do you suppose he meant by that?” Tobias asked Abigail.
“I could hardly care less,” said Abigail.
As the months passed, Tobias forgot about Ian’s odd reply. The two boys toiled away at casting and etching the bell to Revere’s exacting specifications. Finally Revere declared the bell finished—April 18, 1775—a night Tobias and the rest of the world would never forget.
Tobias was actually wiping away the last bit of polish from the bell when a messenger from the Sons of Liberty suddenly burst into the workshop, looking for Revere. War was upon them! The British had somehow gotten word that Patriots were stockpiling weapons in Concord. General Gage had just dispatched several troops of Redcoats up the Charles River to arrest John Hancock and Samuel Adams in Lexington, before marching on to Concord to confiscate the secret arsenal. The sexton at the Old North Church had already sent a lantern signal to Charlestown from his steeple that the Redcoats were mobilizing by water. Revere needed to ride at once to Lexington to warn Hancock and Adams that the British were indeed coming. En route, he should rouse every available Minuteman out of bed to grab his musket and defend that arsenal.
“Abigail!” Revere called into the house. “Fetch me my overcoat and hat!”
“Wake the countryside with this!” Tobias said, handing Revere the bell. “It would be better used to rally Patriots to arms than to sentence them to the gallows.”
“You can’t!” Ian gasped. “My father commissioned that bell for the Crown. It belongs to King George. If it’s used to incite rebellion, they’ll surely arrest Papa for treason.”
“The bell belongs to me,” Revere said. “King George has yet to pay for it. And your father can hardly be accused of treason against the Crown if the Colonies are no longer ruled by one. Now run home and tell your papa to take up his musket. It’s time for all good Patriots to reveal themselves!”
Ian shot Tobias a murderous glance before removing his apron and dashing out the door. Meanwhile, Abigail brought Revere his coat and hat. Revere slapped Tobias on the back and made for the river.
No word from Revere the entire night. Still no word the following day, though there were alarming reports of bloody skirmishes between the Redcoats and Minutemen in both Lexington and Concord. Ian was furious with Tobias for giving Revere the bell and wouldn’t speak a word to him. It was only after dark the following night that Revere returned home, exhausted and bedraggled—but triumphant. He set a small chest on his workbench. He pulled the bell from the pocket of his overcoat and handed it to Tobias.
And then Revere commenced his tale:
“I did indeed ring the handbell all the way to Lexington, calling every available Minuteman to arms. I was able to warn Hancock and Adams in time that the British were after them. Mission completed, I set off for the Concord arsenal with William Dawes—who had roused Patriots along the Boston route—as well as young Samuel Prescott, who came along for the lark of it. But we were soon stopped at a roadblock by British guards. Prescott jumped his horse over a stone wall and escaped into the woods. Dawes tried to follow, but he fell and was captured. Meanwhile, the guards clapped a pistol to my own head and threatened to blow my brains out if I tried to escape. They were resolved to escort me straight to the jailhouse in Lexington. But as soon as my captors heard shots ringing out from Lexington Green, they stole my horse and left me to my own fate. In truth, I never got the chance to see the skirmish myself. Hancock asked me to take a metal chest of secret papers back to Boston. Unfortunately, I was bucked off Hancock’s horse in Cambridge when a musket ball whizzed past my shoulder. To my surprise, Ian, your father emerged from behind a tree. He had just seen a Redcoat t
aking aim at my heart, he said, and had fired himself to divert him. Needless to say, I thanked Benedict for saving my life. I then remounted and rode straight back here to the North End with Hancock’s chest.”
“And the bell?” Ian said. “Did anyone recognize it?”
“General Gage is apparently mad as a hornet.” Revere chuckled. “We’ll have to hide it for the time being. But not here. It’s the first place his men will look.”
“Give it to me,” Ian said. “I’ll stow it away at my house.”
“Now that your father has revealed himself as a Patriot, the Redcoats will no doubt be searching your home as well,” Revere said. “In fact, he and I are both off to Doc Warren’s in Cambridge to lie low. Another battle is brewing at Breed’s Hill. Gage’s attention will soon be occupied by that.”
Revere plucked a small key from his waistcoat pocket and opened the chest containing Hancock’s documents. These he would bring straight to Doc Warren. He pulled a wadded silk handkerchief from his topcoat pocket, took the bell from Tobias, wrapped it in the handkerchief, set the bundle in the chest, and locked it up. “I designed this case myself, based on an old pirate design,” he said. “It’s virtually unopenable without the key.” He handed this to Ian, telling him to guard it with his life. Ian pulled a simple silver chain from the neck of his shirt. He threaded the key onto it, promising Revere he would find a clever spot to hide the chest, elsewhere in the North End, where the British would never find it. “That won’t be necessary,” Revere said. “The most clever thing to do is keep the key and chest separate, since one is useless without the other.” Revere pushed the chest toward Tobias. “Hide it at your Aunt Polly’s,” he said with a wink. “Then have yourself a nice strong cup of Dutch tea.”
Tobias ran straight there. At the front door, he tucked the heart hook from the knocker into his pocket. Inside, Polly and her brood were madly packing to flee to the family summer cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. So she barely noticed the chest he was toting up the staircase. “It’s a pity you and Abigail will have to stay behind at the Reveres’,” Aunt Polly said. “But you’re both under contract. And there’s no room for you in the carriage.” Fine by Tobias! He wouldn’t want to miss all the excitement. He continued his way up to the attic and stowed the chest among the dusty casks of tea. And just in the nick of time. Redcoats were at that very moment pouring into Boston to occupy the city. The Revolution was on!
The next morning, Tobias was delivering a teapot to a customer on Beacon Hill when he was nearly sideswiped by General Gage’s own carriage as it pulled up in front of British Command. To Tobias’s astonishment, it was Benedict Hagmann who stepped out, not the general. Two Redcoats standing guard at the front door nodded a salute as Hagmann was ushered inside. Wasn’t Hagmann supposed to be hiding from the Redcoats with Revere in Cambridge?
Tobias didn’t tell anyone about the incident—especially Ian—until Revere returned to the workshop two days later.
“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Revere said, sighing. “Hagmann insisted while we were all lying low at Doc Warren’s that he must go to Boston on urgent business. He would not be deterred. All we could do was ask him to bring back medical supplies for our wounded. A day later, though, Hagmann returned to Doc Warren’s empty-handed. He claimed he had been captured by Redcoats at Boston Neck. They had dragged him in chains to British Command, he said, where Gage himself interrogated him. Hagmann swore he admitted to nothing, which is why Gage finally let him go. A harrowing tale to be sure. But he had more likely been sipping tea with the general and having a nice chat about upcoming Patriot plans.”
“You think Benedict Hagmann is a spy?” Tobias said.
“With the help of his son Ian,” Revere said. “Benedict relays whatever Ian overhears in this very shop to British Command. Which is no doubt how Gage caught wind of the arsenal we were storing in Concord.”
“I’ll strangle him,” Tobias cried. “After I get that key back.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Revere said. He advised Tobias to continue making teapots and candlesticks alongside Ian, just as though nothing had happened. Now that Revere knew for certain the Hagmanns were Tory spies, he could use the situation to his advantage. He would just fill Ian’s head full of misinformation for the remainder of the war. Meanwhile, the chest containing the bell was perfectly safe at Aunt Polly’s house.
Safe until today, that was. July 24, 1779. Tobias’s thirteenth birthday.
Revere returned to the workshop at midday with surprising news. He would set sail for Maine in three days’ time. He told the boys about his commission under Commodore Saltonstall to Penobscot Bay.
“You have my word, sir, that in your absence I’ll carry on here in the shop—with Tobias’s help, of course—and that your treasured bell will continue to be safe with us,” Ian said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Revere said. “I’m closing the smithy until the end of the war. You should return home to your family in Garden Court Street. And Tobias should ask his aunt to take him back in at Hangmen Court.”
“But Aunt Polly is still on Martha’s Vineyard,” Tobias reminded him.
“All the more reason to look after the place,” Revere said.
As soon as Ian departed, Revere asked Abigail to begin packing his own trunk at once. He would leave for Maine that very afternoon. Hopefully the Patriots would already have secured Penobscot Bay before Gage acted on the false information the Hagmanns would soon be supplying him. Tobias wished Revere the best of luck. Revere told Tobias to protect the new nation’s liberty bell with his life.
The very first thing Tobias did when he got to Hangmen Court was to check on the safety of the chest in the secret room. To his relief, it was still collecting dust among the casks of Dutch tea. Nervous about Ian, Tobias devised a special hiding place for the chest, then sealed the secret room.
Just in the nick of time. Ian Hagmann suddenly burst into the attic brandishing a pistol. “Give me that chest,” he said. “Or I’ll happily blow your head off.”
“You Hagmanns are nothing but Tory spies!” Tobias said.
“Of course we’re Tories!” Ian laughed. “It’s perfectly obvious the Colonies should remain loyal to the Crown, with a proper British class system in place and a strict social order. Not everyone is equal, nor should they be. You have no idea how utterly humiliating it’s been for me to work alongside the likes of you—an orphan from the gutter with no family lineage. Thank God my family is fleeing to Toronto, a Loyalist stronghold, for the remainder of the war. In fact, my father is picking me up in the family carriage in a matter of moments. So fetch me that chest and be quick about it. We Hagmanns will return to Boston once this uprising is quashed. My father will resume his position as royal magistrate. And he will indeed ring that bell, just as he planned, to sentence traitors like Revere to the noose!”
Tobias charged Ian before he could get a shot off. He wrenched the pistol out of Ian’s hand and knocked him over the head with it. Ian crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. Tobias tore up strips of sheeting from the bed. He bound, blindfolded, and gagged him, then dragged him into the secret room. It was only as he caught his breath at the slate mantel afterward that Tobias began to shake with fear. Of all the rotten luck. He should have known: Once a Jonah, always a Jonah. What should he do now? Seal Ian inside? Ian’s father, Benedict, would be there any moment. And if Benedict managed to kill Tobias, how would Revere know where he had hidden the chest?
Tobias quickly composed a riddle on a piece of parchment—his own awkward attempt at the type Revere was fond of reciting—one that would lead him straight to the bell. But as he scratched out the last 9 of the date with his quill, he realized he was no longer alone in the attic.
ou mean Ian’s still in there?” Tony said, pointing to the secret room.
Tobias nodded, ashen-faced.
Tony peeked inside. Sure enough, a boy their age now lay hog-tied and passed out on the floor, dressed in Colonial clothes
similar to those Tobias had on. One by one, the others had a look while Tony conferred with Angelo. “I wonder why you guys can suddenly see Ian in there,” Angelo said.
“He turned thirteen today,” Tony said. “He’s the exact same age as Tobias.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t conjure him,” Angelo pointed out.
“Maybe we got a two-for-one with the riddle,” Tony said.
“But there’s nothing that connects Ian to the riddle,” Angelo insisted. “Tobias wrote that after he knocked Ian out.”
Tobias interrupted them. “Someone is downstairs,” he said. “It must be Benedict Hagmann, wondering where Ian is.” He reached into a hidden niche in the bricks just behind the slate mantel. A pistol materialized in his hand—the very one he must have wrestled away from Ian. (One that must still be hidden there more than two hundred years later, because every single thirteen-year-old, including Tony, could see it plain as day.) Tobias strode with determination toward the bedroom door. “Are you lads with me?” he said. “There are enough of us to overpower him.”
“Right behind you,” Tony said. He pretended to follow Tobias. But Tobias vanished, of course, as soon as he left the room. “Quick,” Tony said, turning back. “We’ve only got a few minutes to find that bell!”
“But what about Tobias?” Solly said.
“Finding it might be the only way to save him—not to mention the rest of us—from the Hagmanns,” Tony said. He explained his thinking: If they solved the riddle and located the chest, they could open it with the key around Ian’s neck. Tony could then show the bell to Health & Safety in his own time to prove No. 13 was a historical site worthy of rescue from the wrecking ball. Meanwhile, Benedict and Tobias would return to the attic to find the chest empty. Tobias would no doubt tell the Hagmanns that four boys working for the Patriots had found it and taken it to Revere in Maine—leaving the Hagmanns with no good reason to harm Tobias now, or any future Hagmanns to menace the rest of them.
13 Hangmen Page 20
