A small stone house, its shingled roof green with moss, nestled among a copse of tall pines. Several low wooden shacks, barely visible amongst the thick shrubbery, were spaced around the perimeter of the clearing. Far enough apart to prevent an attack from overwhelming all of the raiders at once, Adam thought, unless the force was very large. But then the chance of so many getting so close, undetected, was unlikely.
Adam was surprised as more men emerged from the woods, all colored, decently clothed and well armed from the quick look he got of them. A few stared at him curiously but most paid him no attention, being more interested in greeting their brethren and hearing about the raid. Tye motioned for Adam to follow him. The inside of the stone house was surprisingly well appointed with a stout oak table and chairs of various styles and design, obviously looted from different homes. A wide jambless fireplace in the Dutch style dominated the rear wall, with pots and chains, black with soot, hanging from an overhead stone lintel and a long spit pushed back against the fire wall. There were some blankets laid out in the corner and a ladder to the left led to a loft.
Adam realized that having been brought to their secret camp, Tye could never permit him to leave alive. He would either be killed or what? He did not see any alternative. To attempt escape seemed futile. He sat tensely and waited.
“No need to worry yet. I have not decided what to do with you,” Tye said, as if he had read Adam’s thoughts. “I believe you have been honest with me and I am a good judge of character. I caution you not to lie. It will mean your death.” Adam grunted and thought it better to say nothing. Instead, he pretended to be interested in examining his interior surroundings, a gate leg table against one interior wall, side tables, a travelling desk resting unceremoniously on the floor alongside several trunks of different sizes, some with brass bands and locks, others rougher with iron finishings, an assortment of chairs, and even a spinning wheel.
“What will happen to DeGraw’s slaves” he asked, “now the British have taken them?”
Tye seemed surprised by the question. “The British will employ them. They will receive decent rations, new clothes and then their freedom. Free in a Crown colony where formerly they were slaves of those who claim to fight for freedom,” he snapped.
Adam let the silence between them last for a time. “I saw how those cavalry officers looked at the slaves. They were not seen as human beings but more as property looted from the farmhouse. Like pigs and sheep, the oxen or even the wagons and bushels therein.”
Tye studied Adam, startled by his vehemence. “Ah, I understand your point of view. You are offended because they saw the Dutchman’s slaves as Gen’ral Washington and this Reveren see your Sarah. Property to be owned, sold at will or taken in a raid.”
Adam angrily clenched one hand into a fist and struck the palm of his other several times, making a sharp smacking sound. “I would kill that Reverend if I could. Damn that pious bastard for owning her.”
“She cannot be courted but may be bought.” Tye waved his hand casually, his fingers making a small circle in the air “And then this Reveren’ raises the price to make it impossible for you, a simple Private, to obtain the goods for sale. Tell me Private Cooper, do you not also feel anger against the Rebel Gen’rals and Officers who used you in battle but do not recognize you as a human bein when you are courtin’?”
“The same anger I feel when I see Loyalist Officers treating colored men as looted property. Tell me Colonel Tye, does it not bother you that the slaves you liberate are not recognized as human beings?”
Tye stared at Adam and then began to laugh. “By God, I have missed havin’ a decent conversation with an intelligent man for months. It is a rare pleasure for me.” He held up his hands in mock protest. “Do not misinterpret my words. My men are loyal, brave and excellent fighters. However, none of them speak the King’s English. And Pompey, Samson and Blue Jacket, those three from Virginia, slur their words so I have a devil of a time understandin’ them. Like all officers, I wish to be surrounded by intelligent men at my dinner table, to engage in stimulatin’ discussion on issues, such as who is really fightin’ for freedom, the Rebels or the Loyalist militias, and freedom for whom?”
“Why freedom for every one,” Adam said, matter of factly. “I note that you have not answered my question.”
Tye leaned back in his chair and studied Adam, as two of his men carried in armloads of split wood and started a blaze in the hearth.
“I will tell you about myself so you will better understand my answer. I do not know to this day who were my mother or father. At a young age, I was a slave to an evil man, a Quaker named John Corlies, here in Monmouth County. In my youth, Quakers who owned slaves educated and freed them on their twenty-first birthday. Corlies fulfilled only the lesser of part of that bargain. I was educated, which did me little good as I labored in his fields and was whipped when the mood seized him.” 1
He continued, relating at the age of twenty-two or twenty-three he ran away, joined the British, changed his name from Titus Cornelius to Tye and became a Captain in the Ethiopian Regiment, a black unit raised by Lord Dunmore from among Virginian slaves. He had been at the Battle of Monmouth.
Adam tensed his jaw and tried to maintain a calm interest in Tye’s story. If Tye had seen Adam on the battlefield, then . . . He did not finish the thought.
“I captured an American Capt’n. He was from a Virginia Regiment and was so shamed by being seized by a colored soldier, he would not look me in the face.”
“This is the respect I mean,” Adam asked, relieved that Tye had not fought against Will’s artillery unit. “We are not animals.”
Tye was silent recalling the scene. “I humiliated him, this proud Virginian slave-holder. Made him take off his boots, hat and jacket, and marched him barefoot behind the lines. I kept his sword.” He laughed, a deep hearty chuckle, enjoying himself.
“This Capt’n, when he is exchanged, will be unable to give an honest account of his capture. To his mind, his honor has been stained.”
“’Tis more stained from owning and trading in human beings,” Adam added firmly.
Tye nodded in agreement. “True. True. Since Monmouth, I have commanded these men and raided plantations of slave-holding Patriots, includin’ that of my former master. Unfortunately, he escaped before I could force him to watch our destroyin’ everything he owned
- his grand granite stone house with the wide porch, his barns smellin’ more clean and fresh than our slave shacks, the well and root cellar, and of course the slave quarters where I spent my youth. All built by me and his other slaves who were whipped, starved, and frozen at his whim.” He patted the seat of the chair. “This chair was his. Now it is mine. It gives me pleasure to sit in it, but I would derive more if I could, with my own hands, hang him on a well-traveled county road for all to see. Then, after the crows had picked at his sightless eyes, I would give him a proper burial and a tall gravestone - “Here Lies John Corlies-A Slaveowner-May He Burn in the Eternal Fires of Hell.”
He seemed lost in the reverie of his description of his former master’s demise. Suddenly, Tye jerked his head up and stared at Adam.
“My answer to your question is I will liberate every slave it is in my power to do so. I have earned the respect of British and Loyalist Officers alike for my deeds. The slaves I free can also make a way for themselves. They have no such opportunity if they remain slaves. Is that not so, Adam.”
“I agree,” he replied, noting that Tye had used his first name. “Better to be a common laborer able to earn respect, than an enslaved field hand never entitled to it.”
“Do you know how to write?” Tye asked, as if the question had suddenly occurred to him.
“I do.”
“And basic mathematicks?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Inside that chest is a ledger, quill and ink. Make ready. The men will be here soon for their payment. Each time when I receive coins from the Loyalists for sellin’ them the li
vestock, foodstuffs and whatever from a raid, I distribute the proceeds among them. They also have first pick of the household goods and clothin’ before we pass it on to the militias.” He looked Adam up and down. “You could use a new shirt and maybe even breeches. In return for your clerical services, I will permit you to select those items. After my men have had their turn, of course.”
Adam acknowledged the offer. “’Tis fair enough,” he said as he took the key from the Colonel and opened the brass lock on the oak chest. “May I ask what happened to old man DeGraw and his other son?”
“Blew the father’s head off myself with this pistol,” he replied patting the holster on his hip. One of my men bayoneted the other. For such a strappin’ big fellow he squealed as a stuck pig. Ah, speakin’ of pig, here is our dinner ready for the spit,” he said as the men filed in, one carrying the skinned animal while another inserted the iron spit through the haunches and out the fat animal’s throat.
When the gold guineas had been distributed, dinner finished, and Adam was ready to leave, carrying a clean linen shirt, an almost new pair of work trousers, and most importantly for him, a wool blanket, Tye beckoned him back. The room still smelled of roasted pork, potatoes and ale, the two barrels the men had filled their mugs from lying empty on their sides in the corner.
Adam apprehensively sat down opposite Tye, knowing that his fate had not yet been decided. The Colonel opened a bottle and poured rum into two unmatched cut glasses. “Our Dutchman had some fine madeira stored in his cellar. I gave it to the British officers. It is more to their taste. This rum is more to mine.” Adam held the liquid in his throat before letting it slide smoothly down. The warmth would help ward off the night chill.
“You are the first free-born colored I have met,” Titus said. “All the others, Nero, Pompey, Samson, Felix, all bear their master’s names.” He belched loudly. “Some do not even have proper names - Blue Jacket, Sam the Traitor and Poor Taylor. But you, you were born free. The sound of that pleases me.” He downed the rum and poured himself another glass. “My children will be born free. That I swear, by God.”
Adam thought of being married to Sarah and having a family. He saw himself taking his sons out in the dory, riding the waves and teaching them to fish. As he had taught Will before they had marched from Cambridge to New York.
“You are more like me than you may care to admit,” Tye said pointing an index finger at Adam’s chest. “I wish to hang John Corlies
- you to strangle the Reveren’. We are moved by the same reason - we are fightin’ for dignity and respect. To free our colored bretheren.”
He stared directly at Adam, who held his intense gaze before sensing it prudent to avoid the challenge. He looked down at his glass.
“Do you see yourself as a liberator of slaves?”
Adam hesitated before answering. “Are you asking if I would join with you?”
“I am.”
“I will be honest with you. I would willingly participate in raids against anyone, Loyalist or Rebel, to free their slaves,” Adam said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I am not a thief or some conniving rascal who preys on defenseless women. I am a man of honor and, if necessary, I will go to my grave as one.”
Tye smiled at him and leaned across the table to clap him on the shoulder. “Well said, Mr. Freeborn. We do not prey on the helpless and there are no Loyalist slaveholders in Monmouth County. Only bloody Rebels who claim to fight for freedom. Or those who support them.”
Adam thought it better to ignore Tye’s last remark. “I would willingly enlist in your band on two conditions.”
“State them.”
“My name is Adam Cooper. You may not bestow on me a name of your choosing. I am free born and thus neither you, nor any other man, have that right. Second, I expect a share of the gold, equal to that your men receive.”
“Ah. To purchase your Sarah. Perhaps someday we will liberate her instead. Think of tha,t Adam. There is a raid to contemplate.” Grandiose foolishness, Adam thought but said nothing.
Tye grinned at Adam, pleased with their exchange. “I accept both conditions. However, an intelligent man as you, with responsibilities for maintainin’ the ledgers, cannot be a mere Private. I hereby promote you to Sergeant. You are now Sergeant Adam Cooper of Colonel Tye’s Black Brigade.”
Tye pulled out a long thin bladed knife from inside his sleeve. Adam had never seen one like it. It was lethally elegant. The straight blade glittered in the lamplight. The Colonel sliced a thin line with the point on his palm, drawing blood. He then turned the amber colored handle toward Adam and gestured for him to do the same. Adam ran the razor sharp blade lightly along the palm of his right hand and laid the knife down. Tye reached across and they clasped bloody hand to bloody hand.
“Now it is done,” Tye said. “You are one of us.”
Chapter 15 - Raids on Paulus Hook and Long Island
The Knox baby died the week after the artillery companies left Pluckemin and moved north with the Army. 1
Elisabeth and Mercy were with Mrs. Knox when Julia, her emaciated body wasted by her losing struggle against consumption, breathed her last. Mrs. Knox held her second daughter in her fleshy arms and sobbed quietly. Mercy consoled her as Elisabeth sat in a chair, her eyes filling with tears, gently rocking little Lucy. They heard the General’s heavy slow footfall on the steps. He opened the door, saw his wife holding their frail infant and let out a long soft moan of despair. He motioned to Elisabeth. She lifted little Lucy, unable to comprehend the grief around her but wailing in bewilderment, and carefully descended the stairs.
Outside, in the warm morning sun of early July, with the orchard in bloom and the air fragrant with the flowers that grew in profusion where the forests of oak and maple had been cut to make the soldiers’ winter quarters, it seemed that all was right with the world. She sat on a bench in front of the happy home Will and she had shared with Samuel and Mercy Hadley for several months and stroked Lucy’s curls. Elisabeth distracted her by pointing out the robins and sparrows, and an occasional bluebird flitting about from fence posts to shrubs, twittering away. Tree swallows, deprived of their natural habitat, swooped low over the grass, darting from the eaves of the barn to the nearby church and back again.
Will, who had stayed behind as part of the General’s official family, walked toward them from the meadow holding a bouquet of wild flowers in his hand. Her expression told him that the dreaded event had occurred. He knelt down before them, divided the flowers and presented the bunches to Elisabeth and Lucy. The little girl giggled, her tears forgotten.
“Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of our marriage,” he said softly to Elisabeth, without a smile.
“I know, my love. I wish today were not one of such sorrow.” She took a few of the daisies and entwined them in little Lucy’s hair.
“Save some for my baby sister. She can wear them too.”
Elisabeth lowered her lips to Lucy’s head and kissed her hair gently.
“Where has baby Julia gone?” she asked Will.
He shook his head, unsure how to explain death to a three year old. Lucy twisted her chubby little body on Elisabeth’s lap and looked up expectantly.
“She has gone to Heaven,” Elisabeth replied. “She is with God and his angels in Heaven.”
“Can I go, too?”
“Yes,” Elisabeth sighed. “But not right now.”
“Why not? I want to go and play with my baby sister.”
“Because we all must stay here on earth with your mother and father.”
General Knox composed himself in the doorway before joining them. He picked up Lucy, covering her with kisses. She giggled at the attention and buried her face in his neck, something she always liked to do.
“Lisbet says we cannot go to Heaven to see baby Julia. I want to see her.”
He handed his daughter back to Elisabeth. “We will see her again in due course, my sweetness. I must meet with Mr. Vanderveer and the Minister to make arr
angements,” he said by way of explanation to Will and Elisabeth. He looked up at the drawn curtains of the bedroom window. “Mercy is there giving comfort to my Lucy,” he said to no one in particular. He lumbered off slowly as if by delaying a talk about grave-digging he was avoiding the finality of the death of his infant daughter.
He returned shortly, striding purposefully, his face flushed with anger, trailed by an anxious Cornelius Vanderveer.
“You must accept the decision of the Minister as I had to upon the death of my dearest daughter,” Vanderveer said hurrying to keep up. “It is heartless, I admit, especially for one so young. Nevertheless, . . .”
Will jumped to his feet. “General. What is it?”
Knox shook his head in disbelief. “They refuse permission to bury our Julia in the Church graveyard. Their reason - We are Congregationalists and they are Dutch Reformed.” He spread his arms expansively and gestured toward the mountains to the north. “Are we to exhume the bodies of all our heroic fallen soldiers, buried in church graveyards throughout New Jersey and Pennsylvania, if they are of different denominations?” His voice boomed out over the yard. “This is preposterous foolishness,” he said, speaking more softly and glancing nervously again at the second story bedroom window. “It will cause much anxiety to my dearest Lucy, who as a grieving mother is already suffering the unbearable, nay unspeakable burden of having to bury an infant child. They will not even consent to ring the church bell.”
Vanderveer, alarmed at the General’s fury, presumptuously hooked his arm in Knox’s and walked him toward the mansion. “My own daughter is buried behind the house. She was only twenty-two when I placed her there in the shade of the hazelnut trees. The Minister denied her burial in the graveyard for she had fits and seizures all her life. The elders thought she was possessed of the Devil.” He choked at the memory. “It would be an honor to offer you the ground next to my own dearly departed Phebe.” 2
Spies and Deserters Page 27
