Two Crowns for America

by Katherine Kurtz

  “Our source said another man may have been buried with him,” Simon said. “Help me look.”

  More of them pitched in at that, the sexton moving careful shovelfuls of earth as the others scooped with their hands. Soon their labors were rewarded by the gradual emergence of another skeletal form wrapped in a gray frock like that worn by farmers, with dark stains marking the folds of fabric shrouding the head. Ramsay carefully teased the folds back to reveal strands of once-fair hair matted against the skull. Most of the soft tissue of the face was gone, and a finger-sized hole punctured the cheekbone just beneath the left eye socket.

  “I think we may have found him,” Ramsay murmured.

  The second of Warren’s brothers turned aside briefly, quietly retching, then watched with terrible fascination as Ramsay gently lifted the head of the corpse free of the ground to peer underneath for an exit wound.

  “The facial wound matches what was reported,” he said, lowering the head and returning his attention to the mouth. “If it’s any consolation, I doubt he felt a thing. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. Let’s just have a look at the teeth now. Brother Revere?”

  As he gently angled the skull upward, probing at the jaw and what remained of the teeth, Paul Revere crouched down to bend closer, a handkerchief held tightly to his mouth. He and Warren had been close friends for more than a decade, and he bit back the queasiness and tears as he peered at the upper left portion of the jaw, where silver wire held two artificial teeth in place. After a long, searching look and a tentative probe with one reluctant fingertip, he rocked back on his heels and sighed heavily, bowing his head.

  “That’s my work,” he whispered. “I carved those teeth out of ivory and wired them in just before Lexington.” He swallowed noisily. “I—wasn’t able to make them very functional, except to fill the gap, but he was courting Mercy Scollay. They were going to be married, and he—wanted to look his best.…”

  A grieving silence fell upon the company for a long moment; but then, at a nod from Simon, the sexton began digging again to uncover the rest of the body, the others with shovels pitching in. Andrew watched from behind them, braced against his walking stick with one hand, his head bowed in the other, lulled by the stagnant heat and the quiet murmur of occasional comment by the workers as they dug, letting himself drift in sorrow with his eyes closed.

  Suddenly he seemed to see the figure of Joseph Warren standing before him, not disheveled by battle, as Andrew last had seen him, but resplendent in the finery he had intended for his wedding. His arms were crossed casually over the light blue coat and the distinctive waistcoat laced with silver, and the linen at his throat was immaculate, as were his white satin breeches. The handsome face wore a gentle smile, and the blue eyes gazed at him with compassion.

  This was not necessary, Brother Andrew, though I thank you nonetheless, he seemed to say.

  Andrew swayed slightly on his feet, suddenly lightheaded, though he did not open his eyes, lest he lose the vision.

  “Are you all right?” came Simon’s fierce whisper, solicitous at his elbow.

  “Just a little giddiness,” he murmured, sinking to a crouch. “It will pass. Give me a moment.”

  He was aware of Simon’s hand on his shoulder, intended to steady him, but he paid it no mind as he returned his attention to Warren’s image, still waiting patiently. Quite obviously, the visitation was meant only for him.

  Is it you, Joseph, or do I only wish you here, and hence you are? he asked in his mind.

  For you I am here, Warren replied. May I ask why this is being done?

  Brother Washington wished you to have proper burial, and the honors due you as Grand Master, Andrew replied. Your loss is greatly mourned, a blow to the patriot cause.

  Warren nodded. If my example can serve to inspire others, to maintain the just battle for our liberties, then I am content, he said. And what of you?

  I shall continue the good fight in my own way, Andrew replied. Shall I see you again?

  Eventually, of course you shall, Warren said, with a gentle smile. But if there is sooner need, call upon me and I shall come if I can. For now, farewell, dear friend. Blessings be upon you.

  As Warren’s figure faded from his inner vision, Andrew allowed himself a sigh and opened his eyes. Simon was standing beside him, watching him covertly from the edge of his vision, and raised an eyebrow in question as Andrew stirred, but nothing had changed around them. Ramsay and the sexton were helping Warren’s former students shift the remains onto a heavy gray blanket they had brought for that purpose, wrapping it in a long cylinder and lifting it by the ends to carry it in ragged procession down to the waiting boat. Revere followed with Warren’s two brothers, and Andrew and Simon brought up the rear.

  They took Warren’s remains to the statehouse, close by Boston Common, for he had been President of the Provincial Congress. There his coffin lay in state for three days, guarded by his Masonic brethren and adorned with symbols of the Craft he had served in life: his Grand Master’s jewel, a set of compasses, and a gold plate engraved with an irradiated eye within a triangle. On April 8 Freemasons from miles around gathered in full Masonic regalia at the council chambers of the statehouse and carried Warren’s coffin to King’s Chapel for his funeral.

  Chief among the mourners were his mother, his two brothers, and Mercy Scollay, who was to have become his wife and mother to his four young children. Also prominent were Paul Revere and John Hancock. Major Simon Wallace represented the Commander in Chief, accompanied by his wife, his father, and Dr. James Ramsay. The men wore their Masonic aprons openly; Arabella wore hers beneath her petticoat. Dr. Cooper conducted the service, and Brother Perez Morton delivered a funeral oration reminiscent of Marc Antony’s speech over the body of the slain Caesar.

  “Our Grand Master fell by the hands of ruffians,” he said, “but was afterward raised in honor and authority. We searched on the field for the murdered son of a widow and found him by the turf and twig buried on the brow of a hill.”

  Afterward, escorted by two companies of soldiers, Warren’s brethren carried his coffin in procession to the old burial ground at the Granary, where so many of Boston’s honored dead already lay. Following further Masonic and military honors at graveside, a firing party fired volleys over the coffin before it was lowered into the grave. As Simon turned away from the graveside, after tossing in his handful of earth, he found himself wondering how many more good men would have to die before peace was restored.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was mid-April before Simon could join Washington in New York, bringing with him a letter from Andrew to forward on to Saint-Germain. For the moment Andrew remained with Arabella and the children in Cambridge, though both were prepared to journey down to Philadelphia as soon as Simon summoned them—for Andrew had additional instructions from Saint-Germain, contingent upon certain developments anticipated in Congress.

  The General had made his new headquarters at the Motier mansion, called Richmond Hill, some two miles north of New York City. The house commanded a superb view of the Hudson River and possessed gardens, pavilions, ponds, and a stream in addition to an ample assortment of large rooms to accommodate the General’s extended military family. After reporting on Warren’s funeral and briefing the General on the state of affairs in Boston, Simon settled into the new routine necessitated by the move and began acquainting himself with the new strategic venue.

  His official duties were only part of a far larger picture. Once he felt he had an adequate grasp of the tactical situation in New York, he began preparing a detailed update for Saint-Germain. He had written up the events surrounding Justin’s and Arabella’s initiations back in December, along with his assessment of Washington’s developing perceptions, but that report had yet to be sent. The prince had sent his own account before going behind British lines, via contacts he appeared to trust, but Simon preferred to use only known couriers. With the prospect of sending Justin in that capacity, he now expanded on
his earlier accounts and related further details regarding the design of the flag, its reception, the recovery of Warren’s body, and the shift of military focus to New York. He sent Justin to deliver the documents, along with Andrew’s letter, late in April.

  Meanwhile, the continued rantings of King and Parliament were edging the colonies ever closer to a breakaway, as more and more of the colonial legislatures began serious discussions of possible independence. Reports from Philadelphia indicated that in March, South Carolina had given its delegates permission to band together with other delegates to do whatever was necessary in the defense of the colonies—a tacit recognition that South Carolina was prepared to make the break with England. Later in the month, when Congress authorized the fitting out of armed vessels to “cruise on the enemies of these United Colonies,” John Adams was able to remark that the colonies were now engaged in three quarters of a war, whereas before it had been only half a war.

  By April copies of the King’s notorious speech of the previous October had achieved broad circulation in the colonies—the speech the British had thought would spell an end to colonial resistance, for George III had described affairs in America as “a conspiracy to make a rebellious war” intended to establish an independent empire and had declared as traitors all those who supported such rebellion. The decision of Congress to open colonial trade to all the world except Britain was seen as further evidence of American defiance and intention to sever ties with the Mother Country.

  Early May saw Congress summon Washington to Philadelphia to confer on the military situation, with Simon among the staff officers who accompanied him. It was a fruitful visit. To facilitate the recruitment problem that had plagued him the previous winter, Washington persuaded Congress to authorize three-year enlistments and to offer the added incentive of a ten-dollar bounty per recruit. He was also granted authority to summon additional militia to be raised in the neighboring colonies. To facilitate the administration of all these measures, his trusted aide, Joseph Reed, was appointed adjutant general of the Army. Simon received a promotion to colonel.

  “I have meant to do this for some time,” the General said as he handed Simon the commission that evening. “If you are to continue acting in my behalf, it is fitting that you hold a rank commensurate with your responsibilities—and in your case I think I cannot anticipate how wide ranging those responsibilities might be. I especially appreciate the work you did regarding the recovery of Warren’s body.”

  “I am grateful for your trust, sir,” Simon said quietly, slipping the commission into an inside breast pocket. “I shall do my utmost to continue worthy of it.”

  Meanwhile, intelligence conveyed to the Commander in Chief shortly after his arrival confirmed what Justin had reported months before: that German mercenaries were en route to reinforce Howe, and to crush American resistance by force. It had not taken such confirmation for some of the colonies to make up their minds what to do about continued encroachments of colonial rights. Very shortly they learned that Rhode Island had finally taken the step of declaring its own independence, regardless of what the other colonies decided, and had given its congressional delegates leave to combine with others to annoy the common enemy.

  Additional colonies gradually followed suit during the month that followed, for British response increasingly indicated that England had no intention of negotiating a reconciliation. In mid-May, when the Virginia Assembly instructed its delegates to present a resolution to the Continental Congress calling for independence, the portly Benjamin Harrison, who was six feet four inches tall and obese, boasted to a fellow delegate that when they were hanged, his greater weight would ensure a shorter agony.

  The inexorable move toward independence was a scenario foreseen by the Master, for which Simon had his instructions. Late in May he sent word for Andrew and Arabella to join him in Philadelphia. They set out immediately, leaving the children in the care of a cousin in Cambridge. Among the items carried in the trunks that accompanied them were Arabella’s sewing basket and one of the union flags to which she had added six white stripes.

  When they arrived just at the end of May, they spent several late nights closeted with Simon, reviewing instructions and finalizing plans before he must head north again with the General. After he had gone, Andrew began making discreet inquiries about the whereabouts of Benjamin Franklin, and Arabella began picking out the stitching that held the red and white crosses to the blue canton, and cutting white stars to appliqué in a new constellation.

  It was clear by early June, when Washington returned to New York, that the political situation was nearing the breaking point. On Friday, June 7, Richard Henry Lee of Virginia presented a formal motion to Congress, “That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved …”

  The motion was immediately seconded by John Adams, with consideration postponed until the next day. On Saturday, Congress debated the resolution from ten in the morning until well into the evening. Following further debate on Monday, still torn by indecision and the unreadiness of the middle colonies, especially Pennsylvania and Maryland, the delegates decided to postpone final action until July 1, so that they could consult their constituents. But against the eventuality that independence must be declared, a committee was appointed to prepare a suitable document. It included John Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, Robert R. Livingston of New York, and Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, one of the youngest members of Congress but already with a reputation as a masterful writer. Jefferson was delegated to draft the document.

  Meanwhile, in New York, Washington had to deal with betrayal within his own ranks. It was not the first instance, nor would it be the last. The previous September, evidence had surfaced that the newly appointed Surgeon General, Dr. Benjamin Church, a respected patriot leader and protégé of Samuel Adams, had been selling information to the British for nearly half a decade. Washington himself had overseen Church’s court-martial—and had asked Congress for authority to hang men for far lesser offenses—but he left Church’s punishment to the provincial congress at Watertown, which merely imprisoned Church and denied him pen and paper, perhaps out of embarrassment that one of New England’s most illustrious patriots had also been found to be a notorious spy.

  The discovery of Church’s activities had been shocking, but the newest betrayal was of a more personal sort. On June 12, 1776, a Sergeant Thomas Hickey had been arrested on what was at first thought to be a simple counterfeiting charge. Within a fortnight, however, it emerged that Hickey had been part of a more insidious plot to kidnap Washington and as many of his guard as could be captured, and to attack the American rear. Hickey was tried before a court-martial, convicted of mutiny, sedition, and treachery, and hanged.

  The Hickey affair underlined the ambivalence still felt by many Americans and gave warning of the fragility and vulnerability of the patriot cause—for if Washington had been taken, American focus would have been badly disrupted, if not destroyed. He had moved his military operations to New York because he believed that General Howe would strike there next, and had spent the spring putting all available manpower to work building fortifications. The very day after Hickey’s execution, a vanguard of forty-five British ships appeared in New York Bay, sailed through the Narrows, and began disgorging men and equipment on Staten Island, where Howe now made his headquarters.

  Eighty-two more vessels joined them the following day, carrying nine thousand British Regulars and under command of Howe’s brother, Admiral Lord Howe. Rumor threatened of more to come—perhaps the largest expeditionary force ever to be sent out from Britain. And against them, whatever their eventual numbers, Washington had but twenty thousand men, poorly trained, equipped, and supplied. He could not hope to hold New York, but he intended that any advan
tage the British gained should cost them dear.

  As Washington pondered ways and means, events of an even more far-reaching nature were coming to a head in Philadelphia. On June 28, culminating nearly a month of intense work in committee, Jefferson finished the required draft document of a declaration of independence and reported it to Congress. By then virtually all the colonies except New York had authorized their delegates to approve independence, though a few qualified their instructions by stipulating that their delegates should vote against it unless their votes would make the decision unanimous.

  During subsequent debate numerous revisions were made to Jefferson’s draft, mostly to eliminate contentious points; but by the afternoon of July 4, 1776, the time at last had come for the die to be cast. The air was sultry and warm, even stuffy, in Philadelphia’s statehouse, for the doors to the lower chamber had been closed and locked to prevent interruption. As John Hancock, the President of Congress, rose for a reading of the final draft, it became clear that, if the war for independence failed, every man who affixed his signature to the declaration would be subject to execution for high treason. The words Jefferson had penned were a partial reworking of the contract theory of John Locke and held that those who governed the colonies from Britain repeatedly had violated the contract and then denied the colonists redress.

  “In Congress, July 4, 1776. The unanimous declaration of the thirteen united states of America,” Hancock read. “When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.…”