Night of Soldiers and Spies

by Kate Messner

  For Mrs. Abernathy’s classes at Lucy T. Davis Elementary

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: No Lights, No Sound

  Chapter 2: Pop! Boom! Bang!

  Chapter 3: Last Chance to Cross

  Chapter 4: Fever Dreams

  Chapter 5: A Long, Cold Road

  Chapter 6: Soldiers and Spies

  Chapter 7: River Rescue!

  Chapter 8: Life-or-Death Lies

  Chapter 9: A Secret Plan

  Chapter 10: Christmas Crossing

  Chapter 11: A Race Against Time

  Chapter 12: Man Overboard!

  Chapter 13: No Turning Back

  Chapter 14: The Battle of Trenton

  Chapter 15: Rescue in the Snow

  Chapter 16: Marshmallows and Memories

  Author’s Note

  Further Reading

  Sources

  About the Author

  The Ranger in Time Series

  Don’t Miss Ranger’s Next Adventure

  Copyright

  Isaac Pope held the flat-bottomed boat steady while soldiers waded into the river and loaded supplies.

  “Quickly!” an officer whispered through the pounding rain. “We must have every man across before dawn!”

  Isaac nodded but didn’t answer aloud. No lights. No sound. That was the order. This mission had to be silent and secret. Anything else would mean disaster.

  The boat sank lower in the water until Isaac signaled that it was full. He and the other sailors of the Fourteenth Continental Regiment used poles to push off from shore. It was their second trip of the night.

  Their task felt impossible: Ferry nine thousand troops across the mile-long stretch of river between Long Island and New York. Horses and supplies had to be moved, too. All before the sun came up and British troops realized the American Rebels were fleeing. Anyone left behind would be taken prisoner.

  For two days, General George Washington’s Continental Army had battled British soldiers in the rain. But then the Rebels found themselves surrounded. All day, British troops had ventured closer, digging ditches so they could advance without being exposed to gunfire. In another day, they’d be within musket range, and Washington’s army would have to surrender. The revolution would be over almost as soon as it began. Crossing the East River in darkness was their only hope.

  Isaac pulled harder on his oar. His head had been pounding all day. His muscles were aching even before he’d started rowing. Now they burned with every stroke.

  But if anyone could get this job done, it was the men of the Fourteenth Continental Regiment. Most had been sailors and fishermen together in Marblehead, Massachusetts, before they signed up for the Continental Army. When the British had closed the Grand Banks to fishing, Isaac and the other men were furious. How would they provide for their families? That was when many of Marblehead’s fishermen made the decision to join the Patriot cause and fight for independence from Great Britain.

  The commander of their regiment was Colonel John Glover, who took pride in his fishermen’s determination and bravery. They had faced long journeys at sea together. They had weathered the wild storms of the Grand Banks. Now General Washington was trusting them with his entire army.

  When the New York shore was near and the water shallow enough, the soldiers piled out. Isaac shivered and headed back for another trip. His whole body shook with chills. He was weak with hunger. The driving rain and wind had made it nearly impossible to light fires for cooking. He’d eaten nothing but raw pork and rock-hard biscuits for two days. And there were still so many troops to move.

  When Isaac’s boat made it back to Brooklyn Heights, the men were fretting and whispering. One of the soldiers leaned in to him. “The tide’s turning,” he hissed. “Between that and the wind, we can’t navigate the sloops anymore. We won’t make it.”

  Isaac looked at his flat-bottomed boat, already filling with anxious men. Without the larger sloops helping to move men, they’d never get everyone across the river before dawn.

  Isaac felt dizzy. He imagined the Redcoats waking at first light to find hundreds of Continental soldiers trapped in Brooklyn. Isaac’s ears still rang from the gunfire of the day before. He had crouched behind a stone wall, his heart pounding against the musket he’d held tight to his chest.

  They’d fought bravely, but how long could they go on? George Washington’s troops were beaten down. They’d held out for two days against an army twice their size. But now they were surrounded.

  Could they possibly escape before dawn?

  “Happy Fourth of July, Ranger!” Luke said. “I saved the last piece of my hot dog for you.” He leaned down and fed it to Ranger under the picnic table.

  Ranger was just finishing when he saw a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye.

  Squirrel!

  Ranger darted out from under the table and chased the squirrel all around the yard. He chased it past Mom’s garden, up the porch steps, and down again. When the squirrel climbed a tree, Ranger sat at the bottom, barking.

  “Got outrun again, Ranger,” Sadie said, and bent down to pat his head.

  That was all right. Ranger didn’t know what he’d do if he ever caught a squirrel anyway. He just liked chasing them. Squirrels were the reason Ranger wasn’t an official search-and-rescue dog.

  Ranger had done all kinds of training with Luke and Dad. He’d practiced finding Luke in the woods and in big warehouses with boxes all over. He’d even practiced finding him when Luke was buried in the snow. Ranger was very good at finding people.

  But to be an official search-and-rescue dog, you had to pass a test. And to pass the test, you had to ignore everything except your job. You had to ignore cats and crowds of people and juicy hot dogs dropped in front of you. You even had to ignore squirrels.

  On the day of Ranger’s test, a squirrel had run right out in front of him. Ranger chased it, even though Dad said no. Ranger knew Luke wasn’t really lost. He was just pretending. If a real person had needed help, Ranger would have left the squirrel alone. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t pass his test, so he didn’t get to be a search-and-rescue dog. Now he could chase as many squirrels as he liked.

  “Finish up and let’s clear the table,” Mom said. “We should get Ranger inside before the fireworks start.”

  Ranger loved Fourth of July hot dogs, but he didn’t like the fireworks one bit. They hurt his ears. He always hid under the blanket in his dog bed until the popping and booming ended.

  Ranger followed Luke and Sadie inside. He stayed in the mudroom while they went to the kitchen to get marshmallows. As soon as they left, Ranger heard a soft humming sound coming from his bed.

  Ranger pawed at his blanket until he uncovered the old first aid kit he’d dug up from the garden one day. The humming was louder now.

  Ranger had heard that sound before. The old metal box only hummed when someone far away needed Ranger’s help. Once, it had taken him to a giant ship that was about to sink in a frigid sea. Another time, it had taken him to a dusty prairie where a boy and his family were starting out on a dangerous journey. And once, it had taken him to a city shaken by an earthquake, where a girl and her friend were running from fires.

  Now the first aid kit was humming again. Ranger lowered his head and nuzzled the strap over his neck. The humming got louder. Light spilled from the cracks in the old metal box. It grew brighter and brighter. Too bright!

  Ranger had to close his eyes. He felt as if he were being squeezed through a hole in the sky.

  Suddenly, the humming stopped. Ranger opened his eyes.

  It was half-dark out, just like it had been at home. But a cool rain had repla
ced the warm summer weather. Fog and whispers floated through the air as men ran quietly toward a riverbank.

  “Hush now, and hurry,” one of them ordered. “We’re running out of time!”

  Ranger padded through the mud to the edge of the river, where a boy a little older than Luke was holding a boat. One by one, a line of tired-looking men climbed in. The boy’s trousers were torn. His coat was streaked with mud. He smelled of smoke, river water, and sweat.

  “Sun’s starting to rise,” Isaac whispered to his friend Joe. Isaac knew Joe from the church back home in Marblehead. Joe was enslaved by a merchant who’d sent him to fight instead of joining the army himself.

  Joe nodded. “Don’t quit on me now,” he whispered. “You put in longer days than this in the Grand Banks, my friend. How many cod tongues did you say you turned in that day? Two hundred?”

  Isaac smiled, even though he trembled with chills. “Two hundred twenty.” He still remembered pulling in fish after fish on his hand line that day. The fishermen cut out the tongue of each cod before salting it and tossing it into the hold. At the end of the day, they’d bring all the tongues to an officer to claim credit for their catch. That evening, Isaac had more than anyone.

  He had told Joe about his amazing catch when he returned from sea. But somehow it was a better story when Joe told it later that night at the blacksmith’s shop. When Joe told a story, all the men put down their drinks to listen. Even if they’d been there, they wanted to hear him tell it.

  Isaac looked up the bank, where more men were streaming toward them in the dark. What a story Joe would have to tell of this night.

  But before the men arrived, a shaggy, golden dog crept up to the boat.

  “What’s this?” Joe asked. “One of the general’s dogs?”

  “Probably.” Isaac patted Ranger’s head. “You’ll have to wait to cross the river, dog. We have more men to move.”

  “We better hope this fog doesn’t lift,” Joe said. “It’s the only thing hiding our rear guard from the King’s troops.”

  Isaac shivered. He didn’t know if it was because of the damp air, his fever, or his fear. He reached into his pocket and squeezed his good-luck charm. It was just a short length of knotted rope, but its rough, scratchy feel always reminded him of home. Isaac’s father had been a mariner, too. When Isaac was a small boy, his father had given him the rope to practice the knots he’d need to know to join the fleet one day.

  Isaac had just perfected his bowline knot the summer his father was lost at sea. Isaac never got to show him, and he never untied it. He kept the rope in his pocket, a way of keeping his father’s memory close. It had gone with Isaac on his first fishing voyage to the Grand Banks. It had gone with him to enlist in Washington’s army. And it would cross the river with him tonight.

  Back and forth, Isaac rowed. Every time he crossed to Long Island, he held his breath. Would the Redcoats be hiding in the fog to greet them with a hail of gunfire?

  Ranger waited on shore for Isaac to take him wherever they were going. But one after another, the boats left without him.

  Finally, Isaac’s boat returned. “One more trip should do it,” Joe whispered as Isaac climbed out of the boat to help the last group of men on board. Isaac was holding it steady but leaning against it, too, as if he needed it to keep himself up.

  “You all right?” Joe asked him.

  “Yes,” Isaac said. “Just tired.”

  Ranger sloshed over and licked Isaac’s hand. Sometimes he did that with Luke. When Luke was very tired or sick, it made him feel better to know that Ranger was there.

  “You can come this time, dog,” Isaac whispered. After the last man boarded, Isaac thumped his hand on the side of the boat, and Ranger jumped in.

  “What’s this?” an officer said, lifting the first aid kit from Ranger’s neck. He opened it, took one look at the bandages inside, and let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “You suppose this will save us if the Redcoats catch up?” he whispered. “Five bandages and a —”

  A hail of loud popping sounds interrupted him.

  The officer stared toward shore, his eyes wide. Then he turned back to Isaac. “We must go!”

  Isaac’s entire body hurt. But what he saw when he looked up made him hurl himself into the boat. The Redcoats were pouring down the hill toward the river. Isaac scrambled to his feet and started rowing.

  Isaac felt as if someone had a fist clenched around his heart. There was no way their little boats could outrun a British cannonball. He rowed as hard as he could. Every breath burned in his chest.

  Keep rowing. Keep rowing, he thought. Isaac felt the dog at his side. Somehow, it helped calm his racing heart, even as the gunfire grew louder.

  Ranger wanted to hide under a bench, but he stayed close to Isaac, even though the noise hurt his ears. It sounded like fireworks, but louder and with a sharp, dangerous smell.

  “All right now!” the officer called when they were out of range of the British guns. The men rowing could finally slow their frantic pace.

  When the boat brushed against the river bottom at the opposite shore, Isaac dropped his oar and collapsed.

  Ranger ran to Isaac’s side and licked his cheek. His skin was salty and hot. Too hot. Ranger nuzzled him to stand up. The other men were already marching up the bank.

  Isaac tried to stand, but his knees buckled under him. His back felt as if it might split in two. His head pulsed with a sharp, throbbing pain that made everything blurry. He felt the dog’s rough tongue on his cheek.

  Then everything went black.

  When Isaac woke, he was in a barn. A few chickens clucked around, pecking at the floor.

  Isaac leaned up on his elbows. Someone had spread a wool blanket in the hay to make a rough bed for him. Isaac looked around. His head throbbed. Where was Joe? Where was the rest of his regiment?

  Isaac reached into his pocket and felt the scratchy rope against his palm. He remembered rowing through a hail of musket balls in the smoky morning fog. And then … nothing.

  Wait. Had there been a dog? Or had that been a fever dream?

  Isaac let out a soft whistle. “Dog?”

  Ranger looked up. He had gone to get a drink of water from the trough, but he was glad to hear Isaac’s voice. Isaac had been asleep for a long time. After he collapsed in the boat, Joe and the other soldiers had carried him to a tent full of other sick men. They’d given him medicine but Isaac just got sicker. For two days, Isaac had drifted in and out of restless sleep, until he woke one morning with dark red spots on his face and hands. One of the men helping shouted and ran from the tent. When he returned later that morning, soldiers came with him. They loaded Isaac into a cart and brought him here with the chickens.

  Ranger had followed them the whole way. He didn’t know where his first aid kit was anymore, but he knew that Isaac needed him.

  “Dog? Are you here?” Isaac called again.

  Ranger came over and nuzzled Isaac’s shoulder.

  “You are real,” Isaac said, “and you’re here!” But where was here, exactly?

  Before Isaac could wonder for long, an older man shuffled into the barn with a tin cup of water and some bread.

  Ranger trotted up to him and licked his hand.

  “Good morning, pup,” the farmer said. He set the water and bread down and knelt beside Ranger, scratching his neck with both wrinkled hands. Ranger leaned into the scratch. The man smelled like wood smoke and farm dust and bacon. He was a very good scratcher. Ranger was disappointed when he stopped and stood up to bring Isaac the water and bread.

  “Here you go,” the farmer said, handing Isaac the cup.

  Isaac’s hands trembled as he took a drink. How could he be so weak that a cup of water felt heavy? He set it down and looked at the farmer. “Thank you. But … I have to get back to my regiment.”

  “We have to get you better first, son,” the farmer said. “Get some food in you.” He nodded toward the bread.

  Isaac reached for it and took a
bite. As soon as the warm bread touched his lips, he realized how hungry he was. When was the last time he’d eaten? What was he doing here? “I appreciate your care, sir. But why was I brought here instead of the camp hospital?”

  “You’re under quarantine,” the farmer said, “lest you spread this disease all through the Continental Army. I can care for you here because I’ve already had smallpox.”

  “Smallpox?” Isaac’s voice trembled. He looked down at the spots on his hands, and his heart raced with panic. The disease had raged through Marblehead like a wildfire just three years before, killing neighbor after neighbor and terrifying the town. How could he have contracted smallpox? He couldn’t be trapped here, sick. What if the troops had to cross another river?

  Isaac struggled to his feet. He had to get out of this barn. He had to get back to his regiment. He had to get back to Joe and Colonel Glover and General Washington.

  He staggered toward the door and collapsed. Ranger rushed to his side and sniffed at his face. Isaac was hot again.

  The farmer eased Isaac back onto the blanket and held the cup to his lips until he took a tiny drink. “You’ll get back to the army, son,” he said quietly. “But first, you have to survive.”

  In the days that followed, Ranger stayed by Isaac’s side. The bubbly rash that had started on the boy’s hands spread until his whole body was covered with oozing bumps. His face and hands were the worst.

  Every day, the farmer brought Isaac food and water. Ranger would lean close to him then, nudging Isaac to keep him alert while the farmer held the cup and urged him to take small sips.

  It was two more weeks before Isaac’s fever finally broke. But then the sores that covered his body hardened into thick, crusted scabs. Isaac couldn’t move without crying out in pain.

  Slowly, with Ranger at his side, Isaac began to eat and drink again. He was too weak to leave, but he began helping with barn chores. Ranger followed him around as he fed the chickens. Little by little, Isaac regained his strength until, finally, he was ready to return to the army.