Spies and Deserters

by Martin Ganzglass

  She began to run, not knowing why or what she was running to, one hand to her throat, the other clutching at the folds of her dress. She was sobbing, forcing her to breathe in short gasps, knowing that in a moment she would learn her future, whether it was to be with Will or be without him.

  Suddenly, there he was, leaping down the two steps, bareheaded and joyously shouting her name, grabbing her by the hand, one arm around her waist, almost carrying her into the Lewis home. Better to get off the street. Not that she cared anymore about appearances but it would reflect badly on the Lewis’s reputation if they openly embraced in public.

  Once inside the door, her feet well off the floor, her arms locked around his shoulders, she buried her face in his hair, smelling the salt from his sweat and the acrid residue of gun powder. He was here, unharmed. She felt the muscles of his arms, ran her hands over his uniform, as if to reassure herself he was whole and unwounded. And then she began to sob, unrestrained cries of relief from the anxiety of being revealed as a spy, the stress of pretending to be someone she was not in the presence of Captain Montresor, of being stalked by John Stoner.

  Will lowered her and kept his arms wrapped around her, letting her cry, pressing her tightly against him and whispering into her hair that it was all right, they would be married, she was safe, he would protect her.

  “Oh, Will. I am truly happy to see you and here I am crying and making myself more ugly in your sight.”

  “You will always be beautiful to me. Never ugly. Never,” he said, brushing her cheek with his fingers. He noticed the slight discoloration on her temple, a faint blemish but still a mark and carefully examined her face. He touched the faded spot on her cheek, gently tracing it with his first two fingers.

  “What happened? Were you hurt?” The concerned look in his eyes, the alarm in his voice made her hesitate.

  She nodded. “I was, but not seriously. I will tell you what happened later. Now is not the time.” She put her finger on his lips to shush him and felt his gentle kiss. “When Mary returned from Valley Forge with the other Quaker ladies without seeing you, I was so disappointed. I wanted her to be able to describe you, so in my mind I could once again see you and keep that image close to my heart. Eight months is a terribly long time to be apart.”

  “It will not be so again. I promise. General Knox has received a favorable response from your father. He has given his permission.”

  They ended their embrace at Mary’s discreet cough from the hallway. Their fingers remained entwined when Mary appeared and suggested they join her in the kitchen. They preferred to sit next to each other on the bench at the table instead of in separate chairs.

  “I want to be married as soon as possible,” Elisabeth said. “I most certainly do, too,” he responded squeezing her hand in his.

  Mary beamed at the two of them. “It pleases me that you mention your plans before me and yet are so locked in each other’s gaze you are barely aware I am sitting across from you.” She laughed as they both stammered an apology. She went to the cupboard and brought out a bottle of claret.

  “This definitely requires a celebratory glass.”

  Two days later, they were married by the Artillery Regimental Chaplain in the Lewis’s home. The Dutch Reformed Church, Elisabeth’s first choice, had been transformed during the occupation into a stable by British Cavalry in punishment for its pastor preaching to the Hessians of the justice of the Patriots’ cause.

  General and Lucy Knox, Will’s friends, Samuel and Mercy Hadley, Nat Holmes, and the Lewises crowded into the small front parlor. It had rained earlier and the air had cooled, making the cramped room more bearable. Will and Elisabeth did not notice. Their marriage was duly recorded in the Regimental Bible and the Chaplain’s Record of Activities with the explicit notation, General Knox was witness to the ceremony and vouched that Elisabeth’s father had consented to the match.

  The Knoxes were staying as guests at the Powel House on South Third Street, a magnificent three story brick home in the Georgian style. It was they who arranged a dinner for the newlyweds.

  Will and Elisabeth arrived with Mary and Edward Lewis. Elisabeth knew Mrs. Powel was related to the Shippens and she had attended dinners and dances there before.

  She had chosen for its relative modesty the emerald green dress she had worn to a theater performance. Mary Lewis’s homespun dress and simple white cap emphasized her plain appearance and Elisabeth was afraid her friend would feel out of place at what she knew would be an elegant dinner party. Lucy Knox, although noticeably pregnant, had her hair done up in the current fashion, a towering construction adding a foot to her height. In her ostentatious patriotic manner, she had festooned her hairdo with red, white and blue ribbons.

  “I am preparing for tomorrow’s Independence Day festivities,” Lucy announced to one and all, as she made her grand entrance into the dining room escorted by General Knox. She lowered her large bulk into one of four chairs at the head of the table and fanned herself vigorously.

  Dinner at the long table set for twenty was a sumptuous affair. As befitting the Powels’ wealth, each place setting of plates with a delicate floral design had matched silverware and table knives with ivory handles and cut crystal glasses. Will and Elisabeth were seated at the main table immediately adjacent to General Knox and Lucy, who were flanked by the Powels. Colonel Sargent of the Regiment and of course Nat Holmes and Samuel Hadley and his wife Mercy were also there. Besides the Lewises, Will knew none of the others. Elisabeth said many were prominent merchants and landowners, some accompanied by their wives. “A room filled with Loyalist sentiments,” she whispered in his ear. “Most likely acquaintances of the Powels.”

  After the first course of savory veal pies, planked shad and roast chicken, served with dressed carrots and pickled cabbage, General Knox pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. The room became quiet.

  “Today is a day ending a long and dangerous journey of two young people, resulting in the joyous occasion of bonding together this couple in matrimony. I bear no less affection for Lieutenant Stoner than I would if he were my own . . .” he paused and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, “I should say our own son, for I know my beloved Lucy harbors the same sentiments as I express. I wish to relate the steadfastness of mind and spirit that has brought Will to this happy moment.”

  Self-consciously, Will listened to Knox recount the obstacles of hauling the cannons from Fort Ticonderoga to Cambridge, through the Berkshires in the bitter winter of ’75; the holding action at the Battle of Brooklyn with Smallwood’s Marylanders, the fog-shrouded escape across the East River and the long retreat down the length of New Jersey from the pursuing British Army. In stentorian tones he recounted the hellish crossing of the Delaware in the teeth of a nor’easter, lowering cannons by ropes down gorges and dragging them up the other side to blow the Hessians away in Trenton; the second battle of Trenton when the Americans, with their backs to the ice floe-choked Delaware and no boats to effectuate a retreat, had fought the British Army to a standstill until dark, and then marched twelve miles at night and won the battle of Princeton. From there, he took the guests to the bloody slaughter at Brandywine and the victory they almost won at Germantown.

  “In every instance, on every battlefield, the coolness, bravery and good conduct of the lad I first knew as a teamster’s son in upstate New York has exemplified the spirit of our army.” Will blushed but realized that Knox was speaking of all the soldiers, using Will’s personal history as a lesson to show how close to defeat and annihilation they had been.

  “This past winter,” he said in a stern tone, “we together endured the harshest test of our mettle, when our ill-clad soldiers starved and froze at Valley Forge, while those of means failed to provide sustenance and support for the Army charged with defending them.”

  There was an uncomfortable shifting of bodies in chairs and embarrassed quick looks around the table. The guests attending for the prestige of dining with the well-known Gene
ral Knox had not expected a lecture at their expense. They were there for the opportunity to discuss mutually beneficial arrangements for the General to consider, which of course would make these gentlemen even richer. 7

  “We emerged stronger for the experience, a well-trained army prepared by our Prussian drill master, General Von Steuben. The proof was in the field against the best of General Clinton’s forces. The effects of this latest battle at Monmouth will be great and lasting. It will convince the British that nothing is wanting to render our army equal to any in the world.”8

  Lucy tugged at her husband’s sleeve to remind him that he had risen to propose a toast. He nodded and smiled down at her affectionately.

  “So, first, a toast to General Washington and our brave soldiers!” This was greeted by cries, perhaps motivated by shame and embarrassment, of “To General Washington! To the Army!”

  “Then to the Congress of these United States,” followed by raised glasses and cheers of “To Congress!”

  “And finally to Lieutenant Will Stoner and his bride, Elisabeth. I am constrained by discretion to say no more other than this courageous and brave young woman has acted in significant ways to benefit our cause.”

  Will and Elisabeth remained seated as all around them rose and cheered the newlyweds. Elisabeth noted Edward leaned down and whispered in his wife’s ear and Mary shook her head. Mary would keep her secret, especially from her husband who still professed absolute neutrality in the war.

  After the guests had settled themselves, Will rose hesitantly. General Knox signaled for quiet. Will looked at the faces at the table, focusing on his friends Hadley and Holmes to steady himself.

  “I, too, must,” he paused and started over. “On behalf of myself and Elisabeth, I thank General and Mrs. Knox for their steadfast friendship and generosity and their evident concern for our wellbeing.” He extended his arm toward the Lewises, uncertain whether the social elite around the table knew them. “Mr. and Mrs. Edward Lewis have by their kind hospitality, protected Elisabeth during the late occupation and I am, I mean we are, deeply grateful to them.” He took a deep breath, wanting to choose his words carefully.

  “Tomorrow is Independence Day. It is the first we will celebrate together as man and wife,” he said lowering his voice. “That will make it doubly joyous for us. However,” he said continuing more confidently, “I propose a toast that tomorrow shall be the last Independence Day we celebrate with British troops on our soil. Let next July mark us as a free people in a land free of foreign armies.” He raised his own glass to cheers of “Here! Here!”

  As they walked home arm in arm, Elisabeth leaned her head contentedly on Will’s shoulder. Inside the hallway after Edward had bolted the door, there was an initial awkwardness as the four of them stood in the hallway. Mary lit a candle and handed the holder to Elisabeth. “You two go upstairs to your room. It is late. We will follow shortly,” she said simply and watched Will and Elisabeth climb the steps.

  The following morning, Will and Elisabeth stayed abed and came down by mid-morning, blushing and grinning at the same time. They washed separately at the pump behind the kitchen as Mary fixed them a breakfast of toast and cheese. “I have made hyson tea, I do not know why. The occasion seems to warrant it. It is so silly of me. Would you prefer cider?”

  “No, Mary,” Elisabeth said. “Will and I need nothing else at the moment,” she said placing her hand on his and rubbing the backs of his fingers. “The weather is clear. We plan on walking about and enjoying the city’s festivities.”

  The Independence Day celebrations were more muted and subdued than the previous year, whether due to lack of preparation following so quickly upon the British evacuation of the city, or a desire to conserve gunpowder, it was difficult to determine.

  Will and Elisabeth wandered happily through the streets in the late afternoon, absorbed in each other. As it became dark they reached an area near the wharves where they had last been together in Philadelphia. Together with the crowd, they watched the skyrockets soar upward, saw the flashes of cannons from the batteries by the Delaware and heard, but did not see, the thirteen musket volleys honoring the Congress.

  As content as they obviously were to be together, Elisabeth sensed a reticence in Will, as if he were unsure when and how to speak. She leaned against him and affectionately rubbed his arm. “We are husband and wife now,” she said. “There should be no secrets between us.”

  Will sighed. “I am indeed fortunate to have such a wise and beautiful wife and one so perceptive of my mind.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

  “General Knox came to Philadelphia to better regulate the

  ordnance for the artillery.”

  Elisabeth waited for further explanation, knowing the conclusion

  as if Will had blurted it out first. “He has held meetings with those

  who will cast the cannons and the balls and made arrangements for

  their payment. Some of the works are near these very wharves,” he said

  pointing vaguely around them. “I will be leaving with the General,

  Captain Hadley and the others in a few days, three at the most. But you

  will still have Mercy and Mrs. Knox and of course Mary for company.”

  He said it so quickly to reassure her, she had to laugh.

  “You are silly my dear Will. Women’s company cannot substitute

  for you my love.”

  “I promise I will send for you as soon as the army establishes a

  permanent camp. And I will write you often.” The words tumbled out

  as he sought a way to soften his leaving. “You know how much Mrs.

  Knox hates to be apart from her husband. I am certain she will prevail

  upon him and you will come, too.”

  They walked with their arms linked back toward the commons.

  The celebratory throngs on the wharves had begun to depart, the

  fireworks at an end. “Even if the army is on the move, we will surely go

  into winter quarters by December, perhaps even as early as November,”

  Will said hopefully.

  Yes, she thought. And I will be anxious every day until you are

  safely in camp. “If we are to be apart for possibly several months, and

  together a maximum of only three days, then we should spend every

  minute of every day and night together,” she said fervently. She felt

  him squeeze her hand.

  “Now it is my turn to unburden myself and reveal my secret.”

  She told him the entire story, from his brother accusing her of being a

  Rebel spy at Major Andre’s ball, which Will knew of from her coded

  letter, to her sense of being followed everywhere, to the malevolent

  looks he gave her in public and finally, the assault a few days before

  the British left.

  She felt him tense as she spoke, as he took her in his arms and held her tightly, and then his muscles relaxed and he stroked the back

  of her neck gently.

  “I will thank Edward Lewis for saving you from my brother. John

  will never threaten you again. That I promise.” Will’s voice was calm

  but the steeliness and clipped tone frightened her. “I will not pursue

  him to New York nor hunt him down like the despicable wretch that

  he is.” He pulled away from her and placed his hands firmly on her

  shoulders. “However, if Providence permits and I encounter him

  anywhere, I will kill him.”

  Elisabeth shuddered. She saw the animosity and vengeance in his

  eyes and wondered whether she had been wise to tell him. She was

  new at being a wife. Perhaps sometimes it is best to keep secrets from

  each other.

  Part Three A Deadly Game of Cat and Mouse

  Chapter 11- Providence and Privateering

  Camp White Plains 27th July, 1778
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  My Dearest Elisabeth, I find it most difficult to reduce to paper my thoughts, although why it was easier to write before we were wed is something I am unable to explain. Since leaving Philadelphia you are always in my thoughts. Our brief time together has shown me what true happiness means - my Love and Passion for you knows no bounds. Were paper not so precious, I would tear this up and begin anew for I am not satisfied that the words I have written accurately convey the depth of my love for you, nor the terrible hurt I feel each day we are apart.

  We promised each other to write frequently, even about events that seem ordinary and of no significance. I hereby fulfill that promise as follows: Since departing in the company of General K. and the other officers, we followed the depredations of the British Army through the ruined State of New Jersey, first briefly resting at Brunswick. We crossed the Hudson River at King’s Ferry, proceeded to Tarrytown, marched South and now are camped at White Plains. The British unfortunately retreated to Sandy Point without any further significant losses and thence were taken by their Transports to the safety of Staten Island and New York. I hope they will either emerge from their havens and chance a battle or we will enter their lair and root them out. General K. believes the Enemy has no dangerous designs and observes that after two years of war, both Armies are back at the very point they set out from. 1 You must know it is my fervent wish that we win this War before another two years pass. Captain H informs me his wife has returned to her home in Morristown, which fortunately for him is closer to our Camp than Philadelphia. I live at present with Nat Holmes who has received a letter from his wife that she is well and their son continues to thrive although there is no news about the birth of their second child. He is most anxious to know. We dined with General K last night, along with several other Officers.

  I will write you of one Day as an indication of the rest. I arise with the Sun and water and feed Big Red. We begin training others new to the Artillery at 6 oClock which lasts till 8 - then we breakfast upon tea or coffee, some bread and cheese. After, I am assigned to either inspect our Emplacements or haul cannons to specified sites. Then, my time is my own and I ride, read and write you, before dinner which is soup, good beef or fish and bread and occasionally an apple pie. At 5 oClock we begin training again and leave off with the setting Sun. I have a cot and one blanket for the nights are chilly. I am comfortable enough but yearn for your warmth beside me. Some of the men suffer due to a great deficiency of blankets that we hope to remedy shortly. The Day I have described is typical and as much as it is filled with activities, they do nothing to assuage the pain of our Separation.