The First Conspiracy

by Brad Meltzer

  In the end, the greatest danger of the Holy Ground for the soldiers proves not to be drunkenness, brawls, or other violence. The greatest danger is something invisible, but even more deadly: syphilis.

  This sexually transmitted disease spreads quickly through the troops as different soldiers frequent the same brothels and same prostitutes.

  Indeed, several young soldiers who joined the army die that spring not from battlefield heroics, but from a disease acquired in a brothel. Their final hours are not spent wielding weapons against the enemy, but instead writhing in pain from the gruesome symptoms of a bacterium just as fatal as any musket ball or bayonet.

  The men sent to medical facilities for syphilis are not the only soldiers suffering from health problems. The poor sanitary conditions, unclean drinking water, and lack of hygiene in the New York City barracks create a rich environment for digestive disorders and, soon, large numbers of the men are suffering from dysentery and severe diarrhea.

  “Our Company are now about one half of them very low with the Camp Disorder, or Bloody Flux, which is very prevalent through out the whole Army,” Bangs writes in his journal. While dysentery doesn’t claim many lives, the symptoms can be brutal and often incapacitate soldiers for long stretches.

  In addition to syphilis and the “bloody flux,” the army continues to be ravaged by the most terrifying ailment of all: smallpox. In the previous month or so, with soldiers leaving the service after Boston, thousands making the journey south, and thousands of brand-new recruits and militia units joining for the defense of New York, the logistical nightmare of quarantining afflicted soldiers, diagnosing new cases, and preventing the spread of the disease is even more complex than it was in Cambridge. When positive diagnoses are made, the sick soldiers are ferried to Montresor’s Island in the East River (now known as Randalls Island), where army doctors oversee a quarantined-care unit. This removal prevents the disease from spreading too rapidly, but the constant drain on men and resources is a never-ending struggle.

  Of the approximately 12,000 Continental troops in New York, somewhere close to 2,500 are injured, bedridden, incapacitated, quarantined, or otherwise unfit for duty.

  For George Washington, the virtuous ideal of a trained, disciplined, orderly army has never seemed further from reality. Instead, his army appears to be spiraling into darkness at the very time when their courage and valor will be needed most.

  37

  Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island

  May 1776

  The operation has stalled.

  After weeks of effort and high hopes, the work of the counterfeiting collective of Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, is not moving forward as originally planned.

  For a while, the brothers Israel and Isaac Young, along with their collaborator, the engraver and silversmith Henry Dawkins, had seemed to be doing everything right. From Israel’s initial planning with Dawkins in the city jail, to the complicated purchase of the rolling press, to the placement of the press in the attic of the Youngs’ home to create a private workstation, to the acquisition of sample dollar bills and shilling notes to use as references, to Dawkins’s expert early round of platemaking—the team seemed destined for success.

  And then the paper. They had everything but the correct paper.

  The team had high hopes when they enlisted their acquaintance and neighboring Long Islander Isaac Ketcham to find and purchase the correct stock in Philadelphia. So when Ketcham returned to Long Island in early May, the plotters were unhappy, to say the least, to learn the disappointing outcome of his trip. Not only had Ketcham returned to Cold Spring Harbor empty-handed, but he also informed Israel Young that “he thought the paper he wanted could not be got” based on his experience trying to procure it.

  The Young brothers and Dawkins have no way of knowing whether Ketcham genuinely tried to find the paper or whether he lost his nerve, but for the moment only one thing matters: The counterfeiters are no closer to being able to produce Continental bills than they were more than three weeks ago.

  Such is the state of affairs in the Young brothers’ Cold Spring Harbor residence on the morning of Sunday, May 12, 1776. Although there aren’t any records of how the trio has been proceeding in the week or so since their accomplice Ketcham’s failed trip, it stands to reason that they have been planning their next course of action with regard to finding the right stock.

  They’ve now all invested many weeks and significant money to get the operation off the ground, so they aren’t about to quit. Surely, they can find some way to track down the correct paper, or find someone else who can do so for them. Or perhaps, by experimenting with different inks or plates, they can figure out some alternative way to mimic the look and weight of Continental currency using some other stock that’s easier to obtain.

  On this particular Sunday morning, the only people home at the Youngs’ house are the younger brother, Isaac Young, and Israel’s wife. The two principals of the counterfeiting operation, Israel Young and Henry Dawkins, are both elsewhere in town.

  It’s a calm, still, and largely cloudless morning as the sun rises over the Sound on the north shore of Long Island, and no one in tiny Cold Spring Harbor has any reason to think anything unusual will happen today.

  Then, for Isaac Young, the morning silence is interrupted by a loud banging at the door.

  Probably wishing his older brother were there with him, Isaac walks to the door and slowly opens it.

  An unfamiliar man stands just outside, wearing a captain’s hat and wielding a musket. Other men stand a few steps behind him.

  In a split second, the man “immediately enters” the house with no greeting or explanation.

  Is this the home of Israel and Isaac Young?

  Yes, it is.

  The man instructs Young not to raise any alarm or make any noise. He tells him to get dressed—it’s time to leave—they’re going to nearby Huntington. There, they have some business to take care of.

  But first, the man informs Young, he and his men are going to search the house.

  In particular, they want to see the attic.

  38

  New York Harbor

  May 1776

  This time, it isn’t so easy for the Mayor of New York, David Mathews, to board the Governor’s ship.

  For several weeks after his initial appointment as Mayor, back in February, Mathews had been able to visit William Tryon on the Duchess of Gordon almost at will. Mayor Mathews would send a token request through the Provincial Congress, then get permission from the port master, and book one of the small boats making regular trips back and forth.

  Mathews’s access was rarely, if ever, denied. Back then, Governor Tryon was still able to hold meetings on the ship with his council—the city authorities still allowed it—and Mathews would often join them.

  Mayor Mathews became part of Tryon’s inner circle on the Duchess. This meant that he was present for some of the special “planning” the Governor oversaw from his quarters on the ship: running spies, ferrying goods and information, and sharing intelligence with onshore sources. Mathews’s job was to support these efforts, acting as the Governor’s eyes and ears in the city and the surrounding region.

  However, once George Washington’s top officer, Gen. Charles Lee, had made it a priority to shut off the governor’s communications—and once Washington himself had arrived with his army—the Mayor’s ability to come and go was significantly curtailed.

  Now, given the state of the city in April and May of 1776, with Washington’s army in control, Mayor Mathews keeps a much lower profile. He spends more time at his home in Flatbush, in Kings County—then part of Long Island, now in the borough of Brooklyn—and less on the island of Manhattan. Thus far, he has been able to escape the wrath of the colonial authorities. He’d no doubt like to keep it that way.

  So when the Mayor learns that the Governor wants to meet with him personally on board the Duchess of Gordon, in part to give him the money to pay back the gunsmith Gilbert
Forbes, Mathews needs to find a legitimate reason to request proper permission from the city authorities to do so, rather than sneak on and risk getting caught.

  The opportunity arises in mid-May. Mathews applies directly to Gen. Israel Putnam, currently Washington’s second-in-command in New York City, for permission to board the Duchess of Gordon in order to “obtain permission from the Governor for Lord Drummond to go to Bermuda.”

  This administrative request, involving a matter of diplomatic procedure on behalf of the Scottish official Lord Drummond, is not particularly suspicious or dangerous. General Putnam authorizes the request.

  Once Mayor Mathews is on the Duchess of Gordon, no Continental authorities are watching him. He can do or say what he pleases.

  Not much is known about what business Mayor Mathews does or doesn’t conduct on this particular visit to the ship—or whether he ever actually makes the request for Lord Drummond to go to Bermuda.

  However, one part of the visit is known, at least according to Mathews’s later account. At the end of his time on the ship, Mathews and Tryon have a confidential meeting in the governor’s “private room,” away from all other eyes and ears.

  According to Mathews, in this meeting the Governor “put a bundle of paper money into my hands,” with specific instructions on how to spend it. The bundle of cash is just short of 120 pounds, or the equivalent of roughly $25,000 in contemporary U.S. currency. The governor’s directions to Mathews are clear: “Take out five pounds and give it to the prisoners in the jail, and pay the remainder to Gilbert Forbes.”

  “Prisoners in the jail” probably refers to various Loyalists connected to Tryon who, for one reason or another, have been thrown into the crowded city jails by the Patriot authorities. Tryon keeps tabs on his allies and spies who land in jail—and could be sending them money in part to keep them on his side.

  In fact, the New York City jails have become a significant part of the complex network of Loyalist communications in the city, packed as they are with those who oppose the revolution and are paying the price for doing so. While the exact identity of the prisoners to whom the Governor intends to send money in this payment are not known, the city jails are currently so full of Loyalists, it could be any number of men or women who have schemed with the Governor.

  And then there’s the rest of the money, meant for Gilbert Forbes. Gilbert Forbes, that short, thickset gunsmith who lives on Broadway across from Hull’s Tavern.

  Apparently, the nine rifles and eleven smoothbore guns had arrived intact on the Duchess of Gordon. So, just as planned, Mayor Mathews will find a way to pay Forbes for them on Governor Tryon’s behalf.

  After the meeting and the handover of cash, Mayor Mathews leaves the Duchess and returns to shore, presumably to his home in Flatbush, across the East River from Manhattan. From this point forward, there is no indication of his being back on Tryon’s ship any time in the next few months. Nor is there any evidence of direct written correspondence between Mayor Mathews and anyone aboard the king’s ships. Sure, they have other ways to stay in touch, but it must always be invisible to the eyes of the colonial authorities and of the army now controlling the city.

  If this really is the last in-person business done between Mayor Mathews and Governor Tryon in the spring and summer of 1776, it is a fairly simple matter. However, on closer inspection centuries later, the math of this particular transaction reveals another layer.

  Subtracting the five pounds that were supposed to be given to the prisoners, Gilbert Forbes has almost 115 pounds. The price of the guns he delivered was roughly 65 pounds. This means that the Governor and Mayor are giving Forbes almost twice as much money as he was offered for the sale of the rifles and guns he delivered to the ship. In today’s terms, he’ll get about ten thousand dollars more than what had been agreed upon.

  Why? Because Governor Tryon and Mayor Mathews now have something else in mind for Gilbert Forbes.

  They’re going to ask him to do something far more important than just sell them a few guns.

  Gilbert Forbes is about to play a much bigger role in Tryon’s grand plan.

  39

  New York, New York

  May 1776

  George Washington needs help.

  Ever since the Continental forces arrived in New York more than a month ago, Washington and his officers have learned about one Loyalist plot after another, a seemingly endless series of dangerous schemes circulating in and around the city.

  Preparing for the British attack is already an awesome undertaking. Responding to the plots of domestic enemies adds yet another layer of fear and uncertainty.

  One of Washington’s frustrations becomes the lack of a clear and efficient mechanism for assessing these threats. His officers and soldiers don’t have the time, resources, authority, or frankly, the skill to embark on complex investigations into civilian activities. The governmental bodies tasked with securing public safety and supporting the war effort are slow moving and sometimes mired in politics. On any issue of concern to the army, Washington has to appeal to the New York Provincial Congress for deliberation, which then often has to take matters to the Continental Congress for approval.

  In addition to being slow, the process lacks secrecy. With enemy spies everywhere, Washington and his officers constantly worry about information flowing into the wrong hands.

  On May 17, 1776, Washington confers on this matter with Nathaniel Woodhull, the president of the New York Provincial Congress. Washington tells Woodhull he needs a better, faster, and more confidential system for investigating internal plots against the American cause.

  Washington’s suggestion? He wants a secret committee.

  More specifically, he wants a small group focused specifically on these dangers, working with him to uncover, investigate, and try to disable the plots by hostile parties in the region.

  The next day, Woodhull presents the request to the rest of the New York Provincial Congress. He explains that in order to curtail the “dangerous machinations” in New York and the neighboring colonies, General Washington wants a small, top-secret team with whom he can strategize: “The General … would be obliged by the appointment of a Secret Committee to confer with him on the dangers to which this Colony is exposed from its intestine enemies.”

  “Intestine enemies” has become one of Washington’s chosen terms for the spies, Loyalists, and traitors within the colonies who actively plot against his army or secretly give aid to the British.

  That day, the Provincial Congress votes. By a tally of 17 for and 8 against, the congress approves “that [there] be a Secret Committee, on behalf of this Congress, to confer and advise with the Commander-in-Chief,” and the resolution is passed.

  Initially, the secret committee has five members, appointed from among the congressmen. To allow greater speed and flexibility, any three of them are deemed sufficient to represent the group if all the members are not available on short notice.

  The committee will have powers to authorize Washington to take necessary measures against internal enemies without the need for every request to go before the full membership of the Provincial Congress.

  Just as important, Washington can share sensitive intelligence with this small committee, and the committee can share intelligence with him—in a confidential manner—without the fear of spies, leaks, or the rumormongering that comes anytime information is shared with a large group.

  In a sense, this committee is a small early prototype of an intelligence agency—a team dedicated entirely to gathering information, identifying dangerous parties, and uncovering hostile plots.

  At first, the committee is given no particular title, beyond “the Secret Committee,” or the “Committee on Intestine Enemies,” or, most awkwardly, the “Committee for the Hearing and Trying [of] Disaffected Persons and Those of Equivocal Character.”

  Clearly, they’ll need a better name. For now, the new group will draw up documents to better establish and define the mission of uncoveri
ng, investigating, and combating plots against the Continental army and the colonial governing bodies.

  Washington hopes this new committee will serve to defeat the Loyalist schemes and conspiracies around New York City, whether arising from Governor Tryon’s ship or elsewhere.

  In fact, the creation of this secret intelligence team sets the stage for an epic showdown.

  Tryon has begun launching a complex plot that, unbeknownst to the Commander-in-Chief, has infiltrated the ranks of the Continental army. This new secret committee has a specific mandate to prevent any hostile plots from harming Washington’s army or the war effort. Tryon is already on their radar as a known enemy of the colonies and will be an immediate target of investigation.

  As George Washington and his new committee try to discover Tryon’s scheme, the exiled Governor is working hard to stay one step ahead.

  40

  In the months since the evacuation of Boston, both England and the colonies have been preparing for all-out military confrontation.

  All the while, the two sides have also been fighting a different kind of war—one that’s been going nonstop for at least a year.

  It’s a mail war.

  For the two opposing armies and the many political bodies engaged in the conflict, physical mail is the means of communication, of relaying information, of passing along instructions, and of sharing reports.

  As a result, both sides devise elaborate strategies to steal or intercept the mail of the other. Likewise, both sides work hard to try to keep their own mail lines secured.

  The Patriots may have started the worst of it back in 1774 and 1775, when their various local Committees of Correspondence in the New England colonies started aggressively intercepting mail to and from England to gain confidential information about the British Parliament’s political machinations. The British and the Loyalists didn’t take long to respond in kind, and from the Battles of Lexington and Concord onward, postal espionage in both directions runs rampant.