by Pam Berkman
No one was looking at Filigree. They were all busy launching the boat.
True patriots do what they can, when they can.
Filigree ran toward the boat. His paws made no sound in the soft sand. He jumped with all his strength.
8
The HMS Somerset
Filigree dove under the wooden platform at the back of the boat. He found himself standing in very cold water. It came all the way up to his chest. Mr. Revere and the two other men sat on wooden plank benches in front of him. The moon was low in the sky. It shone bright on the river.
The boat rocked and the water sloshed. The men rowed away from the wharf.
Filigree dug his toes into the bottom of the boat to keep from falling. He almost fell anyway, because suddenly he was startled by a noise.
It was the growl of a huge animal, and it was right above him.
He tensed his legs, ready to fight if the animal attacked.
But something was strange. He couldn’t smell any animal.
Carefully, he put his front paws up on the bench behind Thomas to look over one side of the rowboat.
This was no animal. It was the British warship, the HMS Somerset, looming like a great crouching beast above them. It was taller than two houses and as long as ten rowboats. It creaked with a sound like a lion’s roar.
They would have to pass right under the huge ship.
Filigree saw that all the rowboats, canoes, and rafts that usually floated on the river had been tied to the Somerset’s side. The Redcoats must have taken them all, to try to keep anyone from crossing tonight. They would be looking for patriots on the river.
People moved around like giant ants on the ship’s deck. Filigree made sure to stay low, behind Thomas’s broad back.
“Revere, they’ll be on the watch for us,” Thomas hissed.
“Steady, boys,” whispered Mr. Revere. “No talking until we’re past the ship.”
Mr. Revere’s jaw was clenched. The muscles on Thomas’s back were tense. But the men stayed calm. They rowed steadily across the river. Filigree tried to stay calm too. A patriot had to face danger.
They came right up next to the Somerset. Their little boat was so close to the side of the ship, the men could almost have touched it. Filigree could smell men, tar, and the gunpowder of the ship’s big cannons.
Then, on the ship, he saw a line of sailors looking out over the river. His legs shook. All the sailors had to do was look down and they would see the rowboat. The night was so bright with moonlight, there was nowhere to hide. They were going to be seen!
All at once they were in darkness. What happened? Filigree peered out from behind Thomas’s back. The moon was so low, it cast a black shadow from behind the Somerset onto the water. The rowboat slid into the shadow. It was so dark there, the sailors couldn’t see them! Filigree held his breath. The patriots glided on silently, out of sight of the British warship. Filigree exhaled. He wanted to tell the moon, “Thank you.”
Suddenly the ship’s bell rang out, five great clangs. Filigree jumped and so did Thomas, Joshua, and Mr. Revere. Filigree dove back under the bench. Then all was quiet on the water.
“Five bells,” grunted Joshua, using all his strength to row.
“That’d make it about ten thirty,” whispered Thomas.
“Quiet,” shushed Mr. Revere. “Not much longer now.”
Filigree peeked out again.
Before them, coming up fast, was the shore and Charlestown Battery.
The Battery was made up of wharves and docks, smaller than the ones in Boston. The boat bumped to a stop. Mr. Revere, Thomas, and Joshua stepped out. They tied the boat to the dock with a long rope.
Filigree climbed up onto the bench so that he could jump to shore. But the shore was too far away.
Mr. Revere was going to leave without him!
9
Brown Beauty
He couldn’t come all this way and be left behind!
He jumped into the river.
Water ran up his nose and into his ears. His bottom half sunk under the water. He drifted away from the riverbank. The current of the river turned him around. His heart sped up. What if he floated all the way out to sea?! He paddled as hard as he could. Somehow, he turned himself in the right direction and made it to the bank.
He climbed out, dripping and shivering.
Mr. Revere and his friends were talking to some other men.
“The Regulars are coming over the river,” Mr. Revere said.
“Yes. We saw the lanterns,” another man said. Filigree recognized the voice of Mr. Revere’s friend Mr. Devens. “The other riders have left. They’ll stop in towns along the way to send out more men. They’ll all ride to Concord.”
To stop the Redcoats from seizing the patriots’ supplies! Filigree remembered.
Mr. Revere nodded. “But my mission is in Lexington. I need to warn Adams and Hancock. They’re meeting at Reverend Clarke’s house. Have you got a fast horse for me?”
“The fastest horse in Massachusetts,” Mr. Devens said. “John Larkin’s mare, Brown Beauty. She’s saddled and ready.” Everyone knew Brown Beauty.
Filigree ran into town as fast as he could. He crept into the dark stable and into Brown Beauty’s stall.
“Patriot business,” he woofed softly. Brown Beauty looked down. She let out a loud, snuffly snort.
“Don’t bother me, dog,” she neighed.
“You’re taking Mr. Revere to Lexington, and I need to come along,” Filigree said as firmly as he could.
Brown Beauty lowered her big head. “You? That’s a joke.” She picked up some hay in her big teeth and began to chomp.
“It’s no joke!” Filigree woofed. “We have to warn Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock that the Lobsterbacks are coming to arrest them!”
Brown Beauty stopped chomping. She swallowed her mouthful of hay. “That’s tonight?” she whinnied. “I’m ready.” She stomped a hoof.
“Good,” Filigree said. “Let me up.”
“You’d just be in the way,” Brown Beauty said.
“I’m coming with you,” Filigree said. “Mr. Revere needs me.” He jumped as high as he could. He couldn’t get anywhere near the saddle. He tried again.
Brown Beauty flicked her tail at him as if he were a fly. “Not a chance,” she said.
Filigree thought hard.
He turned and began to walk away. “I understand,” he said over his shoulder. “If I’m too heavy for you . . . I wouldn’t want to slow you down.”
Brown Beauty lifted her head and shook her mane. “Don’t be ridiculous. I once raced a ship from the bay to the sea and I won. You think you can slow me down? We’ll see about that! Get on.”
Filigree ran up a slanted piece of wood onto the narrow ledge of the stall door. There he stopped. It was a long, long way to Brown Beauty’s back. Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought.
“Are you coming or not?” she snorted. “I have patriots to save.”
“I’m coming.” Filigree jumped. He landed on Brown Beauty’s saddle. It was slippery. He almost fell. He slid down the saddle and squirmed into the saddlebag. The flap fell down over his head.
The door to the stable opened. Mr. Devens came in and led Brown Beauty from the stall. Outside, Mr. Revere waited. He leaped up onto the horse’s back. Filigree felt him kick her side. Brown Beauty reared up on her back legs.
“To Lexington!” she neighed.
10
The Midnight Ride
Filigree slid down to the bottom of the saddlebag. Brown Beauty landed on all four hooves and began to trot.
He stuck his nose out from under the flap. He felt Brown Beauty go from the jolt-jolt-jolt of trotting to the smooth flow of a gallop. She ran faster than Filigree had ever moved before.
The scents of the town flew back and forth under Filigree’s nose. River water. Pigs. Chickens. Smoke from dying hearth fires.
Mr. Revere turned Brown Beauty onto Charlestown Common. Filigree smelled marsh grass and
mud.
Then he sniffed it. Gunpowder and wool.
Redcoats. Mr. Revere was riding straight toward them.
“Brown Beauty!” Filigree woofed softly. “Stop!”
She didn’t hear him. Her hooves kept pounding against the dirt. Filigree threw himself against the saddlebag, trying to make it slam against Brown Beauty’s side. Nothing happened.
He pushed his head out of the saddlebag, then wriggled his front paws and chest through. Just then, Brown Beauty leaped over a fallen branch and Filigree almost bounced out. He held on for his life.
They were getting closer to the Redcoats. There was only one thing to do.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” he barked.
Brown Beauty flicked back her ears. Mr. Revere looked down. He saw Filigree.
“What the . . . ?” he spluttered.
He pulled up on Brown Beauty’s reins and she stopped.
“Oh no,” he said. “Oh no, oh no, oh no. How did you get here? I TOLD YOU TO GO HOME.” Mr. Revere was whispering, but he was so angry, it was worse than shouting. He shook his finger at Filigree, and Filigree wanted to cry. His tail fell between his legs, and his ears went flat against his head.
But he couldn’t take the time to cry now. He strained in the direction the scent was coming from. It was up ahead, under a cluster of trees.
He whimpered a tiny whimper, trying to be as quiet as he could. Frantically he pointed with his nose. A dark shadow moved, just a little, under one of the birch trees. There were two Redcoats sitting on horseback, hiding under the branches.
Mr. Revere saw. His eyes widened.
He turned and galloped.
The Redcoats had seen him. They kicked their horses into a gallop. One was coming straight for Brown Beauty. The other raced ahead onto the road. He was trying to head off Mr. Revere!
But Mr. Revere was the best rider in Boston, and Brown Beauty was the fastest horse in Massachusetts. Mr. Revere cut across the road toward a hedge. Brown Beauty jumped it. The Redcoat’s horse tried to follow, but he wouldn’t jump the hedge. The soldier ahead on the road tried to catch up, but Brown Beauty was too fast for him. The soldier gave up the chase and turned back.
“Scruffy Yankee rebel!” his horse shouted at Brown Beauty.
“You just wish you were as fast as she is!” Filigree woofed back.
Brown Beauty whinnied a laugh. “No snobby Redcoat could ever catch me!” she taunted. She sped up. Filigree felt the wind stream past his ears. He knew they were in danger. But he couldn’t help enjoying himself.
When they had gotten farther away from the soldiers, Mr. Revere slowed Brown Beauty to a walk. He whistled low through his teeth. “I never would have seen them in time. I would have ridden straight into them.” He looked down at Filigree. Filigree peeked anxiously out of the saddlebag. Was Mr. Revere still angry with him?
“You sensed them before I did, didn’t you? Or smelled them? Good dog,” he murmured. He scooped Filigree out of the saddlebag. He put him into his own leather bag, the one he wore across his chest. “You let me know right away, now,” he said, “if you smell any more of them.”
Filigree’s tail thumped against Mr. Revere’s chest.
They galloped on. But soon Mr. Revere signaled Brown Beauty to slow down again. Filigree was puzzled.
“Are we at Lexington already?” he asked Brown Beauty.
“You don’t know anything, do you?” the horse answered.
Mr. Revere turned onto a narrow dirt path that led to a small farmhouse. He leaped off Brown Beauty and knocked on the door.
A woman opened it. Mr. Revere said quietly, “The Regulars are coming out. Have you got someone to ride to Sudbury to alert their militia? We need all of our Minutemen to get to Concord.”
The woman nodded. “Our boy Jed’s ready and waiting.”
Now Filigree understood. “He’s trying to get more people to ride to Concord!” he said to Brown Beauty.
“Glad you’re catching up,” Brown Beauty snorted.
“Quiet, now,” the woman whispered to Mr. Revere. “The Fenwicks across the road are loyal to the crown. Too many families around here are loyalists.”
As Mr. Revere walked back to Brown Beauty, Filigree saw him glance uneasily across the road.
“I have an idea,” he said to Filigree. “Do exactly what I say.”
From then on, when they stopped at a house, Mr. Revere didn’t knock. Instead he lifted Filigree from his bag and whispered, “Speak.” Filigree barked softly until someone in the house woke up and came to the door. Then Mr. Revere leaned in to whisper to them, “The Regulars are coming out,” and slipped quietly away.
One farmer leaned over to scratch Filigree’s ears. “That’s clever,” he muttered. “Loyalists might wonder what was up if they heard a knock on their neighbor’s door in the middle of the night. No one is going to think about a quiet bark or two.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” Brown Beauty grumbled to Filigree as they galloped away.
They rode on, warning patriots along the way. Finally they crossed Lexington Common in the darkness.
“We did it, boy,” Mr. Revere said low.
Filigree felt warm all over. His fur was no longer damp, but it wasn’t that. It was a glow that started deep inside him. Now he knew, for certain, that he was helping Mr. Revere and the patriots. “There it is,” Mr. Revere murmured. “Reverend Clarke’s house. Time to wake up Adams and Hancock.”
He spurred Brown Beauty forward.
11
Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock
Mr. Revere burst through Reverend Clarke’s doorway. Filigree jumped from his bag onto the floor. Mr. Revere went into the large parlor. Filigree scrambled after him. There on the hearth lay Jove.
The big Newfoundland lifted his head. He looked like he had never been so surprised to see another dog in his life.
Filigree lowered his ears and wagged his tail. He didn’t want Jove to stand on him again. Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock stumbled into the room in their nightshirts. Reverend Clarke came down the stairs.
“Adams. Hancock,” Mr. Revere said, taking off his spurs and coat. “Gage’s men know where you are and they’re coming for you. You’ve got to head out now.”
Filigree felt something big looming over him. He looked to see Jove staring down at him. Jove’s breath was warm on his face. He sniffed at Filigree.
“What are you doing here?” Jove woofed. It was like he couldn’t believe his nose.
Filigree wanted to sound like things like this happened all the time. But he couldn’t. He woofed back proudly, “I’ve been helping Mr. Revere.”
“You, Dormouse?” Jove laughed. “You?”
“I see you brought your daughter’s little dog, Revere,” said Mr. Adams.
Filigree wished Mr. Adams hadn’t called him “little” right in front of Jove.
“Yes,” Mr. Revere said. “He helped me warn all the families on the way. And he sniffed out every Redcoat patrol between here and Charlestown Common. I’d never have gotten here safely without him.”
Jove grunted. “I see. Assembling the troops.”
Jove looked at the hearth. On the stone were some cornbread and sausages. Jove always told the pack how Mr. Adams saved him the nicest scraps. He looked back at Filigree. “I was just about to tuck in,” he said. “Join me?”
Stunned, Filigree yipped a “yes.”
He scampered to the hearth and gulped down a sausage before Jove could change his mind. Then he started on the cornbread. Jove ate the rest and told him what was going on.
“My master spent half the night convincing Hancock he can’t fight with the militia himself,” he said.
“Why can’t he?” Filigree asked.
Jove puffed out his chest. “He and my master are too important! The patriots need them. But try telling that fool Hancock that.”
Mr. Revere’s voice startled them both. It cut through the warmth of the room like a knife.
“Where’s Dawes?” he d
emanded. “He was on a slow horse, but he left before I did. He should be here by now. Reverend Clarke? Any sign of him?”
“Nothing,” said Reverend Clarke.
Filigree saw Mr. Revere’s jaw tighten.
“Redcoats chased us on the way here,” Filigree told Jove.
“They might have caught Dawes,” rumbled Jove. “Maybe even all the other riders. That’s a worry.”
“I hope not,” Filigree said. He liked Mr. Dawes. But at least Mr. Revere, with Filigree’s help, had completed his mission. Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock knew they had to escape.
“What happens now?” Filigree asked Jove.
Before Jove could answer, the room was suddenly full of bustle. Other people came downstairs. One of them was Mrs. Clarke, the reverend’s wife. Another woman came from the kitchen with platters of food.
“You’ll need some nourishment,” she said. Jove told Filigree she was Miss Quincy and was going to marry Mr. Hancock. Some other men knocked on the door—Filigree hoped one of them was Mr. Dawes, but they were from the village. They spoke urgently to Mr. Revere and Reverend Clarke. Filigree heard something about the militia. Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock went into the next room and came back dressed. But then they started running back and forth between the rooms, looking for things.
“Mr. Revere said they had to leave now!” Filigree barked at Jove.
“That’s just how people talk,” Jove said. “But they never just go. They always seem to have to find things and pack things and do things first. Not like us dogs.”
Mr. Revere paced. Filigree was so tense, he almost jumped out of his fur when the door flew open and a man strode in.
“It’s Mr. Dawes!” Filigree said. “He made it!”
“Glad he’s in one piece,” Jove said.
Mr. Dawes was disguised as a farmer to fool the Redcoats. He was breathing hard.
“The country is alive with British patrols,” he said. “I don’t know if anyone at all made it to Concord.”
