“Your name is Freedom, you say?” asked Samuel, who turned to look at Freedom. “That is a name worth having and a cause worth fighting for.”
“Well, I’m not really a fighter,” said Freedom.
“Nonsense!” shouted Samuel.
His word made Freedom practically jump.
Samuel firmly said, “We were born to fight. A baby fights for his first breath! Our hearts fight to beat every second of every day. If you stood between a hungry wolf who was after a younger sister or brother and you had a club in your hand, what would you do?”
Freedom looked nervous about answering but finally said, “I would fight it off.”
“What? I didn’t hear you. Say it louder!” Samuel prodded.
Freedom tried again, this time a little louder: “I said, I would fight off the wolf.”
“Of course you would!” Samuel said, sounding almost angry. “And King George is simply a wolf that wears a crown! Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Freedom timidly.
“Don’t ever forget that you are a fighter, Freedom. You are worth fighting for.”
Freedom nodded and gave a weak but sincere smile.
Samuel turned toward me and asked, “Did you say your name is Rush Revere?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said and smiled.
“I am a good friend with Paul Revere, a fellow Patriot here in Boston,” said Samuel. “In fact, I’m on my way to visit with him now. He is a master silversmith and I am in need of his services. Would you care to join me?”
“Really?!” I asked with wonder. “It would be a great honor to meet him as well. I’m sure we’re related.”
“Come, then,” said Samuel, “we will travel together. His shop isn’t far from here.”
“Thank you! That is very generous of you,” I stammered. I was practically shaking from the anticipation and excitement of meeting my favorite exceptional American, Paul Revere.
As we followed Samuel out the doors and down the stairs of Faneuil Hall, a man who I assumed was a fellow Patriot called to speak with Samuel. Samuel stepped away briefly and as I waited I overheard bits and pieces of their conversation. Something about a secret meeting and the Sons of Liberty. Interesting.
Cam interrupted and said, “Mr. Revere, we found Liberty. He’s down by those food vendors. Apparently, someone spilled a whole pot of baked beans and Liberty decided he’d help clean things up.”
“Yes, cleaning up food is his specialty!” I laughed. “Tell him to hurry because we’re following Samuel Adams to Paul Revere’s silversmith shop.
Samuel finished his conversation about the “secret meeting” and said, “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “Lead the way, Mr. Adams.”
Cam and Freedom followed close behind and Freedom led Liberty by the halter. The streets of Boston were buzzing with colonists. Their mood seemed somber as they went about their errands. I noticed many dirt streets that branched off from the main cobblestone street that we traveled on. Samuel pointed out several of his favorite shops along Main Street. A tavern, a fruit vendor, a bakery, and a barbershop. A hat store, a fish market, a pipe maker, and a flower shop. Merchants lined the streets and a variety of signs hung over their doors and windows. “The Hoop Petticoat,” “The Four Sugar Loaves,” “The Chest of Drawers,” and “The Spring Clock & Watches” were just a few of the signs that caught my eye.
“For the most part we have all the luxuries we need. England does ship goods for us to purchase but I prefer to purchase items made in America,” Samuel said.
Faneuil Hall as it looked in Boston around this period.
In addition, Redcoats could be seen policing the streets. They traveled together in groups of five or six. We crossed the street whenever Redcoats were approaching. In fact, I noticed most of the colonists tried to avoid the British soldiers.
As we walked, Samuel said, “Paul Revere is a master silversmith. After he fought in the French and Indian War he took over his father’s shop.”
Curious, I asked, “Exactly what kinds of things does he make?”
“I don’t think there’s anything he couldn’t make. He is a true artisan of silver.”
“And is this why you are visiting Paul Revere, today? You want to purchase one of his silver pieces?” I inquired.
“No, I’m going to ask Paul to use his skills to engrave a piece of copper. You see, Paul Revere has a small printing press in his shop. Whatever he engraves on a thin piece of copper can be used as a template for his printing press. The piece of copper can be printed over and over again,” said Samuel.
“And what exactly do you plan to engrave on the piece of copper?”
“You get right to the point, Rush Revere! I like that,” said Samuel. “The British army has given us a golden opportunity. I have called it the Boston Massacre. In fact, we approach King Street now. This is where the tragedy occurred last night.”
Overhearing our conversation, Cam said, “I recognize the Customs Office and the Old Brick Church.”
Indeed, back in the classroom Liberty had dreamed a remarkable simulation of the crime scene. As we walked to the place where the crowd of colonists stood shouting at the British soldiers, I saw thin patches of snow in the shadows of the buildings. A large icicle fell from a two-story building and shattered into dozens of large chunks. A thick, jagged piece tumbled across the street until it hit my leather shoe. I looked down at the piece of broken ice and saw a large dark stain on the cobblestone. A cold wind blew across my face and gave me goose bumps. I knelt to get a better look and shivered at the thought of what had happened at this very spot last night.
Behind me, Samuel said, “I have talked to many witnesses about the event last night and it appears that the British soldiers indeed fired upon several Americans. However, I’ve also discovered that the Americans who gathered were not all peaceful bystanders. Most likely, some provoked and taunted the soldiers. Sticks and stones and ice were thrown at the Redcoats. The angry crowd started pressing in on the nine soldiers.”
“And that’s when someone shouted, ‘Fire!’ ” I softly said, remembering the event from the classroom.
“Correct,” said Samuel. “My investigation tells me that Captain Thomas Preston ordered his soldiers not to fire. However, by then it was too late. One of his men fired his musket and soon after, several more shots were fired, killing five unarmed men. It was bound to happen with the Quartering Act, quartering troops so close to the civilian population. It is like putting a fuse so close to flame.”
“Perhaps both sides are guilty,” I said, finally standing and looking at Samuel.
“Perhaps,” said Samuel. “My cousin John Adams has been asked to defend the British soldiers who were at the massacre. Only a handful of witnesses will ever know what truly happened. However, I’m a big believer that people will believe what we tell them, and I intend to spread the word to help spread the cause of the Patriots. We can use this to our advantage.”
“And this plan involves Paul Revere,” I said matter-of-factly.
“It does,” Samuel said. “Paul Revere’s silversmith shop is not far from here.”
I looked for Cam and Freedom and saw them near Liberty. Freedom was huddled up close against Liberty’s neck. I walked over and asked, “Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” said Freedom, quietly.
Cam replied, “I guess this is the ugly part of history, eh?”
“Yes,” I said. “I am sorry if this was a hard thing to experience. I hadn’t planned to—”
“It’s okay, I’m glad we came,” said Freedom. “But it’s a weird feeling to think about what happened here last night.”
Cam agreed. “Yeah, I know it’s just a street but it feels like a cemetery.”
Samuel called from across the street and said, “We must be on our way!”
A cold wind blew again across our faces. It chilled me to the bone as the image of those who lost their lives see
med to lie very near the stain-filled streets.
We continued following Samuel in silence and soon heard the sound of someone pounding metal.
“Ah, here we are. Paul Revere’s silversmith shop,” said Samuel.
I was glad we’d arrived. My somber mood changed to wonder as I thought about meeting the one and only Paul Revere. I straightened my coat and I felt like I was a little boy again ready to meet Santa Claus.
I peered through the shop window and noticed the most beautiful, handcrafted pieces of silver I had ever seen. Spoons, cups, trays, bowls, and teapots adorned the window display.
The Boston Tea Party was planned here at the Green Dragon tavern.
“I like that bowl with the horse engraved on the side of it,” said Freedom.
“I like it, too,” whispered Liberty into Freedom’s ear.
“His craftsmanship is impressive,” Samuel said. “Believe it or not, he even crafted a small, silver chain for a pet squirrel.”
I laughed at the thought of it.
“Seriously?” laughed Cam. “I wish I could get a picture of that!”
“Such a picture would be senseless,” said Samuel, clearly not seeing the humor of it.
As Samuel opened the door I saw a man sitting behind an anvil. Hot sparks burst between the anvil and the heavy hammer each time it connected with the silver that he worked with. I could practically feel the hot furnace from the doorway and certainly smelled the melting metal. As we walked through the doorway I left the door ajar just a bit so Liberty could hear our conversation. My heart was beating fast and my palms felt cold and sweaty. I didn’t realize how nervous I would feel upon meeting my boyhood hero. I had met dozens of exceptional Americans, but this one was extra special for me.
“Paul, my good friend,” said Samuel, “may I introduce you to my new friends, Rush Revere and his students Cam and Freedom?”
Paul set down his hammer and wiped his brow. He looked like a strong man with broad shoulders and mighty forearms. He wore a leather apron over his linen shirt, which was rolled up at the sleeves. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he immediately smiled at me like we were long-lost brothers.
“With a last name like that, I’m sure you must be a brilliant man!” said Paul, laughing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out his hand and I did the same. His handshake was firm and he looked me straight in the eyes. “To what do I owe this visit?”
I said, “I am a history teacher and historian, and I have been a great admirer of all you’ve done for America’s independence.”
Paul laughed heartily and said, “I like this Revere. He speaks of our independence as if it has already happened!”
“Yes, it seems all the Reveres are true Patriots!” said Samuel. “I will tell you why I have come. But first, I must show you this drawing.” Samuel unrolled a piece of parchment that he was carrying. “I asked a man by the name of Henry Pelham to draw this illustration of the massacre on King Street last night.” He showed it to Paul Revere.
“Massacre?” Paul said with a surprised grin.
I found myself smiling with him and not knowing why. It’s as if his smile was contagious.
Paul said, “Ha! I should not be surprised that you chose a word with such drama!” Paul laughed again. I could see that this was a man who loved life. He made me feel right at home in a way that Samuel Adams definitely didn’t. He was good at his craft and his customers probably enjoyed him as much as his handiwork. Paul turned in my direction and said, “Be careful of what Samuel tells you. He is very good at spinning a story to his own benefit. Bending the truth is his specialty!” Paul slapped Samuel on the back and laughed again while Samuel grimaced. Paul continued, “The word massacre makes it sound like the Redcoats were premeditated and cold-blooded.”
“Some of us fight with swords and some of us fight with words,” said Samuel with a glint in his eye. “I call it the Boston Massacre because I want Americans to always remember the horrific event of March fifth, 1770.”
I peered at the drawing and noticed that it showed British soldiers firing at peaceful Boston citizens.
With a bit of anger Samuel said to Paul, “And why do you criticize me for lighting a fire under our fight for freedom?! My intent is to remind all Americans how unjust and unfair King George has been to the colonies. He is trying to cripple our economy by taxing everything. He wants to crush our hopes of independence. He will stop at nothing until he kills our chance for freedom.”
“I agree,” said Paul, smiling. “No need to bark up my tree. Boston is clearly being targeted by the British Empire. King George sends more and more troops to Boston. We must do something! I assume you have a plan? You always do,” Paul said, laughing.
Samuel nodded and said, “Yes, I do. I need the help of a master silversmith to engrave this picture on a copperplate so we can print and distribute it to as many Americans as possible.”
“I can do it,” said Paul. “It will take some time, but I can do it.”
“Well, if you cannot do it, perhaps the printer and Patriot Benjamin Franklin can?” teased Samuel with a serious look on his face.
Paul’s laughter bounced off the walls of the small silversmith shop. He said, “You really know how to motivate a person!”
Surely I was biased, but I loved Paul Revere’s attitude. He never seemed to doubt his own ability and he was always optimistic about getting the job done. I wished I could stay with him all day and listen to his adventures and stories.
Just then the door creaked open and Liberty stumbled inside.
Paul Revere, American Patriot (1735–1818).
Freedom whispered, “He was listening too closely and accidentally fell into the door.”
“Is this your horse,” Paul asked, walking to the door.
“Oh, uh, yes, I apologize. He is a curious animal, and I’m sure he was just looking for us,” I said.
“I am looking for a new horse,” said Paul. “Would you consider selling him?”
“No, I couldn’t,” I said. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“Before you go, I have a gift for Cam and Freedom,” said Paul. He walked to the back of his shop and then returned with two silver objects. “These are whistles,” said Paul, proudly. “They make a very loud, high-pitched sound. I recommend you use this in case of an emergency only.” He laughed again and we all laughed with him.
I turned to Samuel Adams and Paul Revere and said, “I will forever remember this day, gentlemen. Thank you for your dedication and your bravery. As a teacher of history I will make sure your names are remembered as exceptional Americans!”
“We are far from exceptional,” said Samuel seriously.
“True, but I’m a little closer than Samuel,” Paul said jokingly.
As Cam and Freedom left the shop, Samuel lowered his voice and said, “I invite you to join our secret society of Patriots, called the Sons of Liberty. Paul is also a Son of Liberty. I feel I can trust you and we need good men who have the courage to fight for freedom no matter the cost.”
“I’m honored,” I said without hesitation. “I will find you the next time I am in town.”
As we parted ways I thought about the commitment I had just made, the commitment that all the Sons of Liberty had made. Their imprint in American history would forever be remembered during the famous Boston Tea Party.
As I left the shop I saw Cam and Freedom sitting on Liberty’s saddle. Both were plugging their noses. As I got closer to Liberty I realized why.
“What’s that smell?” I asked, grimacing.
Just then Liberty tooted and said, “Excuse me. I, um, may have sampled some beans earlier and, well, let’s just say I’ll have plenty of gas to get us through the time portal.”
I simply shook my head and smiled. It was definitely time to jump back to Manchester Middle School.
The Old State House as it looks today in Boston, Massachusetts.
Chapter 9
While we waited for t
he bell that signaled the end of the fire drill, Liberty quickly exited the classroom.
“Did you see the look on Liberty’s face?” Cam asked as he started laughing. “So funny! He kept passing gas every time he took a step!”
“I know, right?” said Freedom with a big grin. “Even after he turned invisible we could still hear him tooting all the way down the hallway!”
Their laughter was contagious.
Tommy walked over and whispered, “I still can’t believe you time-jumped without me!”
Freedom replied, “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.” Freedom handed Tommy her silver whistle. “I’m not much of a whistle blower. And since you couldn’t come, I want you to have it. Paul Revere made it.”
“Wow, thanks, Freedom!” Tommy said and gave Freedom a giant grin.
When the bell rang, Freedom said, “Gotta catch my ride. Bye! And thanks again for the field trip!”
“But I’m still jealous that I didn’t get to go with you guys,” said Tommy to Cam.
“It just sort of happened,” Cam said. “Plus, you and Elizabeth got to time-jump when you visited King George.”
“Speaking of Elizabeth, I didn’t see her when the class returned,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said softly. “I almost forgot. I spoke with her outside while we waited for the fire alarm to stop. She kept talking about King George III and how excited she was to see him again. I told her I didn’t think we were going back there, and she said, ‘Yes, we are, Thomas.’ Ugh, I hate when she calls me that.”
“What else did she say?” I asked.
Tommy looked around the room to make sure we were alone and said, “Ever since she came back from Windsor Castle she’s been acting really strange.” He did his best Elizabeth impersonation: “Oh, Thomas, it’s my destiny to return to England. I have plans and they involve King George.”
Rush Revere and the First Patriots: Time-Travel Adventures With Exceptional Americans Page 12
