“Oh, yes,” I stammered. “Um, my horse, Liberty, is close by.”
Paul nodded and then looked at Cam and Freedom. “Would the two of you be willing to stay here and alert us if you hear any Redcoats approaching or see any spies lurking about?”
“Why not?” Cam said.
“I guess,” Freedom reluctantly answered.
“If you hear or see anything suspicious, run down to the boat and tell us,” said Paul.
“No problem,” said Cam. “Come on, Freedom. We can watch from behind those wooden barrels.”
Paul and I briskly walked to the water’s edge. The sound of water lapping against the wharf made it feel like it was just another night. But something in the air gave me the chills.
At the waterfront two men were waiting. A look of worry and consternation covered their faces. They silently pointed to the harbor. Looming in the distance was the ghostly outline of a very large ship.
Paul stared with solemn eyes. He leaned close to my ear and softly said, “It is His Majesty’s ship Somerset. General Gage is determined to keep us from crossing and warning the people in the countryside.”
“Will you try to leave Boston by land?” I whispered back.
“No, we will proceed with Dr. Warren’s plan. It is unfortunate that the warship is directly in our path. No coincidence, I am sure.”
I questioned the decision to continue the mission and said, “Surely the King’s troops on that ship will see you passing.”
“Our plan is set in motion,” said Paul. “We knew the odds were not in our favor. They have never been in our favor. But we do not need odds when God is in our favor. I will attempt the crossing. God willing, the impossible will be made possible.”
I nodded in awe and wonder at the faith and steadfastness of Paul Revere. He was one hundred percent committed to the cause of freedom. They knew they were the underdogs but it did not stop them from fighting for their beliefs.
Paul whispered, “There is no time to spare. Let us grab the boat and carry it into the water.”
Hidden beneath the wharf was a small boat and two long oars with cloth over them. I knew they added the cloth to muffle or quiet the sound of the oars on the water as they rowed. We placed the oars inside the boat and carefully carried it into the dark river.
“Look,” said Paul Revere as he pointed back toward Boston.
Suddenly I heard footfalls coming in our direction. I turned and saw Cam and Freedom running toward us, waving and pointing behind them.
Chapter 3
Mr. Revere!” Freedom screamed as she yelled from their lookout point, “Someone is coming—we think it’s a spy!”
Oh no, I thought, exactly what I hoped we would avoid.
Hearing the commotion, Paul jumped into the waiting boat with two boatmen. They turned toward Charlestown and placed their oars in the dark water.
“Thank you, Rush Revere,” Paul Revere said. I shoved the boat as hard as I could and ran back toward Cam and Freedom. When I got back to them, the spy cornered us against the wharf.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” asked the spy angrily. “In the name of the King I demand an answer.”
Cam was sticking out his chest toward the spy and his face was serious and angry. It reminded me of the fight with the bully, and it worried me.
“We are just here to fish,” I said, the first thing that came to mind. Cam and Freedom looked at me quizzically. I glanced sideways toward the Charles River and saw that Paul Revere’s boat was still close to shore. If the spy saw him we were all in trouble.
“Yeah, we are fishermen,” Cam repeated, “and you look ridiculous in your cloak. Who do you think you are—James Bond?”
The spy raised his gun and said, “You are clearly not fishermen. To begin with, you have no fishing equipment.” At that moment the spy looked up toward the river and seemed to see something.
“What is that?” he said, pointing to the water. I could see the shadow of the boat, but the moon was playing tricks on the water so the picture was coming in and out. What could clearly be seen, though, was the huge boat in the middle of the river in Paul Revere’s path.
“Oh, that. That is HMS Somerset, I believe, sir,” I said, knowing full well he meant the small boat with Paul Revere.
“Not that, you fool, the small boat rowing across the river.” I could now see the spy held a pistol with a black barrel and mahogany base. Although it was probably close to midnight, the nearly full moon that hung low to the horizon made me feel like we were all actors on center stage, except there would be no audience to witness my dramatic death scene.
“You must be seeing things,” said Cam. “There’s only one big boat but no small one.”
With the barrel of the pistol pointing at me the spy sneered, “Keep your hands where I can see them. I should shoot you where you stand and throw these children in jail.”
I moved in front of Cam and Freedom, who looked frightened. Liberty, returning from his bathroom break and acting like a true horse, sauntered up to us and looked surprised.
The man quickly glanced at Liberty and said, “I don’t remember seeing a horse on the wharf. Bring him to me, slowly.”
Suddenly I had an idea. We had to distract the spy until Paul Revere made it across the river or everything would be lost. I hoped Liberty would play along. I imagined the wharf as a stage and the moon a giant spotlight. I was determined to make my seventh-grade drama teacher proud. I turned to where Liberty was standing but looked past him like he wasn’t there. I continued turning and searching until I completed a 360-degree turn and was once again facing the spy. Looking confused, I shrugged my shoulders and asked, “What horse?”
Again the man glanced at Liberty. He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “I don’t know what kind of game you are playing. The horse is right there,” he said, and pointed. “I can see it as plain as—”
The spy stopped midsentence, mouth opened, and stared at Liberty, who was now trying to wave a hoof. The spy just stood there, dumbfounded. Then Liberty took a deep breath and disappeared. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Liberty always had a flare for the dramatic. He loved the theater and always dreamed of starring in the Broadway productions of Fiddler on the Horse or Little Shop of Horses or The Phantom Horse of the Opera. Of course, now he was giving an Academy Award–winning performance of The Phantom Horse of the Wharf.
“Where did . . . how the . . . what is going on!” the spy demanded.
Liberty reappeared on the other side of me and waved at the spy, again. For a second time, he inhaled and disappeared. Needless to say, Liberty’s phantom-horse trick got the spy’s attention. His head jerked back and forth, eyes searching frantically.
“Is everything all right?” I asked with fake sincerity.
“I’m confused,” the spy said. I could see in the distance Paul Revere going under the massive hull of the huge Somerset warship. A British soldier in red paced the deck above Paul Revere’s small rowboat, guarding the Somerset and keeping a lookout. It seemed impossible for Paul Revere to make it across safely without being seen!
“Mr. Revere, I’m really scared,” whispered Freedom.
“Stop talking,” the spy exclaimed. His brow furrowed and his eyes wandered aimlessly. He spun around quickly as if to catch someone sneaking up behind him, and then a second later his pistol was once again pointing in our direction. He finally said, “Maybe it is the moon playing tricks on me. I need to orient myself.”
“For the record,” I clarified, “you are in Boston, 1775.”
“I know where I am!” the man said with contempt. “I know these streets. I patrol them every night by order of General Gage.”
Again, Liberty appeared right in front of me. But this time he moonwalked on his back legs across the wharf.
“There it is again!” The spy panicked and pointed. “How is that possible? Surely, you see it!”
Cam and Freedom quickly caught on to what was happening and
tried to ignore Liberty as he walked forward while gliding backward. At the end of his moonwalk he spun around once and then lifted one hoof to his mouth like it was a smoking gun and pretended to blow it out. Liberty winked and again vanished into thin air. Priceless, I thought.
The spy rubbed his eyes with his fingers and shook his head.
I cleared my throat and said, “Clearly, there is no horse on the wharf.”
The spy pressed his fingers against his temple. He squinted as if he were struggling to see and said, “That does not explain why you are here. I know the rebel Patriots use children as spies.”
Cam laughed and said, “We’re not spies. But to be honest we’re not fishermen, either. We’re ghost hunters. We heard this wharf is haunted by a phantom horse who hunts the King’s spies in the dead of night.”
For the first time, Freedom smiled and had to cover her mouth for fear of laughing.
I pressed my lips together and pinched myself.
The spy acted unnerved. He twitched as he scanned the wharf again, trying to anticipate where the phantom horse would appear next.
Suddenly Liberty appeared inches from the spy’s pistol. He wrenched it from the man’s hands with his teeth and tossed it into the water. Then he stared the spy straight in the eye and in his best Count Dracula voice he said, “I want to suck your blood.”
The spy yelled with pure terror and turned running in a full sprint. Liberty gave chase and galloped behind him, his muzzle just inches from the man’s neck. The final touch was Liberty’s wicked laugh, which gave even me the chills.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” asked Freedom.
“Doubtful,” I chuckled. “He’s probably halfway to Virginia by now.”
Before long, Liberty returned.
I raised my eyebrows and asked, “Really? I want to suck your blood?”
Liberty shrugged. “I was in character. I think the vampire, phantom ghost thing really worked for me, don’t you?”
“I liked when you moonwalked,” said Cam. “I did not see that coming. At all.”
“Did you guys see if Paul Revere made it to the other side?” Freedom asked.
“No, I saw him right as he was about to go under the massive ship and then he disappeared,” Cam said.
“Mr. Revere, we have to go help him. Dr. Warren asked for our help,” Freedom said.
“But we can’t cross the river and catch him; we don’t have a boat,” Cam noted.
“We won’t go in a boat,” I clarified. “We’ll time-jump. But first, I propose we jump back to modern day.”
“Good idea,” said Liberty. “I need a snack, and some lunch, and an after-lunch snack.”
Cam and Freedom hoisted themselves up onto Liberty’s saddle, and I encouraged Liberty to open the time portal.
Like the magic words from the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves that opened a secret cave, Liberty spoke the magic words that opened the mouth of the time portal: “Rush, rush, rushing from history.”
We ran toward the swirling vortex of purple and gold and jumped through, landing back at Manchester Middle School.
* * *
We arrived just seconds after we had left and in the same location—the back of the vacant schoolyard. It was still about 10:15 A.M. A few grasshoppers jumped away from us in the warm grass.
“Thanks again, Mr. Revere. Thanks, Liberty. You two are the best,” said Freedom.
“Yeah, traveling back in time and almost getting thrown in jail by a British spy is a lot better than being stuck at the base,” Cam said. He sighed. “Ugh, not sure what I’m going to do now. Maybe I’ll drop by Tommy’s house and see if he can hang.”
“If he’s not still sleeping,” teased Freedom.
“Mr. Revere, could I ask you a question before we go?” Freedom asked.
“Of course, what is on your mind?” I said.
“Well, um, are we going to go back and see Dr. Warren again on our time travels? Yunno, I think I really want to be a veterinarian and I think he could teach me a lot about taking care of patients, even if they are the furry kind,” Freedom said. “I really liked how he took care of everyone, even at his own house. I would like to do that. I would have birds, and dogs, and horses, and cats, and frogs, and turtles, and wombats, and fish, and . . . did I say turtles? I really want to ask Dr. Warren how he does all of that at his house. What if the British find out and take him away?” I don’t think I heard Freedom put that many words together in a sentence before.
“Yes, we should plan to go back and see him again soon. He was a big part of the founding of this country!” I said, knowing she was hoping I meant return right this minute. It was interesting how she equated Dr. Warren’s compassion for people with her own for animals. Of course, she was the only one I knew who could speak telepathically with Liberty.
“I’m a big sports guy,” Cam said as his eyebrows rose. “Dr. Warren reminds me of a head coach who drafts a bunch of good players to be on his team.” He seemed proud of his comparison.
“You know, Cam, you are exactly right. In many ways, Dr. Warren helped to put together America’s first team to fight back against the British team. He organized the game strategy and who would do what, when, and where,” I said, encouraging Cam to keep going. “You could say that America was just starting to put together its team.”
“Yeah, like a draft,” Cam said in his best deep sports commentator voice. “America’s Team is on the clock . . . we pick Paul Revere in the first round . . . a strong Patriot out of Boston . . . Yes!”
“Too bad Tommy is missing this,” I said. “He would love to know that you turned history into a football draft. Now, that is cool.” I was happy to see Cam a little more energetic than he had been in a while.
“Do you think that William Bradford and the original Pilgrims would play on Dr. Warren’s American Team?” Freedom asked.
“Great question, Freedom. William Bradford, the Pilgrims, Patrick Henry, Ben Franklin, Samuel Adams . . . they were all great Patriots even though they lived during different times. Dr. Warren would definitely put them on his team if he could.” I was thrilled with their creativity.
“The Pilgrims really started all of this when they came over on the Mayflower to start their own free colony, away from the King of England. So maybe we should say they were the inspiration for America’s Team. Almost like a mascot.”
Liberty smirked. “Pilgrims makes me think of the first Thanksgiving, which makes me think of corn, which makes me hungry, hint-hint.”
“Oh, yes, Thanksgiving. I loved that time-travel adventure. Squanto taught me how to plant corn and then we all got together with the Wampanoag Native Americans and the Pilgrims for a huge feast,” Freedom said.
“Hey, the first Thanksgiving was kinda like the first team meal. I mean not all the American first-rounders were there yet, but it works.” Cam laughed for just a second.
“You know what else works: my stomach,” Liberty piped in. “Seriously, it works overtime when we time-travel.”
“Real smooth, Liberty,” Cam laughed.
“Hey, speaking of smooth,” Liberty said, “how about we all go and get some smoothies? I’m craving a strawberry, asparagus, spinach, oats, and alfalfa smoothie! I think you’d really like it.”
Freedom gently replied, “Oh, um, thanks, Liberty, but I think I’ll just stick with the strawberries.”
“Smoothies sound like a wonderful idea,” I said. “My treat. How about you, Cam?”
“Sure, I guess,” said Cam with his hands in his pockets.
On our way there Liberty tried to talk us into tasting alfalfa. “Seriously, it’s pretty good but it’s not the same as clover. But if you really want to try the good stuff you should get the beet pulp. Now that stuff will put hair on your chest!”
After our smoothies, minus the alfalfa and beet pulp, we headed for the military base. Before long, we arrived at the front gate and Cam jumped down.
“Are you sure you want to take me home?” as
ked Freedom. “It’s several miles from here.”
“Trust me,” Liberty said. “I’d much rather get the exercise than be tied up to a tree.” He glared at me from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t make the rules,” I said. “The Marines at the front gate said no horses on base.”
Cam kicked a rock down the street and said, “Mr. Revere, I can walk home by myself. You don’t need to come with me. I am not a baby, you know.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m happy to walk with you.”
Freedom waved goodbye and Liberty said, “Cheerio! Actually, a bowl of Cheerios sounds really good about now.” Freedom guided Liberty and they cantered away.
Gratefully, the Marines at the guardhouse did not give me a hard time about my outfit when I entered the base. As Cam and I walked to the cafeteria he said, “My mom thinks I’m going to get into a fight, doesn’t she? That’s why she asked you to walk me home and stay with me until she got home.”
I pondered about how I should respond and replied, “Cam, I’m honored that she’d ask me to accompany you. It sounds like she’s more worried about other kids than you. And it’s really not a problem. Besides, I trust you would make the right choice if you were ever confronted again.”
When we arrived at the cafeteria Cam asked, “So you trust that I won’t get into a fight?”
Was this a test? I thought. I decided it was and replied, “Just to be clear, sometimes fighting is necessary to defend our families and our freedoms. Sometimes fighting is necessary to stop tyranny and bring peace. That’s why your dad chose to serve in the military. But there are other times when fighting is senseless. I believe you know the difference, Cam. So, yes, I trust you.”
Cam stared at me and finally replied, “Well, then since you trust me, I’d like to be alone for a little bit. I need some time to think.”
How could I say no to that? Then again, I did tell Cam’s mom that I would watch after him. But what if he got into trouble on my watch? I doubted Cam’s mom would trust me much after that. I decided to go with my instincts and said, “Yes, of course. I completely understand the need for some alone time. But since I did tell your mom I’d be here for you, I’ll just wait here in the cafeteria. I can use the time to map out our next time-travel adventure. You know where to find me if you need me.”
Rush Revere and the American Revolution Page 5
