by Brad Meltzer
When he approaches James Mason, Leary presents himself as a friend—a friend who is also possibly interested in joining the ranks of exiled traitors. While chatting with him, Leary wonders to Mason if he knows of any other former workers from the mill who are also among the disaffected here in New York City.
Sure enough, Mason knows of three other former mill workers from Goshen who have also taken up with the enemy. Leary asks if he can see them. Mason replies that Leary “might see them if he would take an oath that he did not come to take them up.”
Leary carefully declines to take any oath, but claims that he, too, has left the mill and wants to get paid to join the British, as the others supposedly have.
At first, Mason isn’t sure whether to trust Leary and tells him that he must “do as he and the rest of them had done,” which is to “go and be qualified.” When Leary asks him what that means, Mason explains: “Swearing before a gentleman in this town” who is “employed by the Mayor or Governor.”
Leary, who is learning more by the second, eventually agrees to be “qualified,” and that seems to gain Mason’s confidence. Soon Mason brings him to an apartment where three other former mill workers from Goshen are lodging. Like Mason, all have agreed to join the British in exchange for land and money, and all of them have been “qualified” by swearing an oath.
Thus far, Leary’s mission to New York City has been quite fruitful. He’s rounded up William Benjamin, gained valuable information from James Mason, and just been introduced to three other former workers from the Ringwood mill who have all taken bribes and sworn oaths to betray the colonies and fight on the British side.
But how can he detain these men when it’s three against one?
The best plan he can come up with, thinking on his feet, is to chat with them for a while to gain their confidence, then encourage all of them to go for a drink at a tavern. While he walks with them up Broadway, his plan is to lead them casually in the direction of a group of Continental soldiers, “intending to decoy them thither, and have them apprehended.”
It’s not a bad plan at first. The group walks about “halfway up Broadway,” with Leary leading them toward where he knows some soldiers will be on patrol. But then, while the group is walking, one of the men notices that Leary is carrying something unusual under his belt.
Guns.
The three men immediately stop in their tracks. As Leary puts it, “They discovered [my] pistols, and would have fled, thinking … that [I] meant to take them up.”
Leary tries to explain that the pistols are simply “for his defense” until he can join in their plot, but the men no longer trust him. Moments later, they run off.
William Leary, sent from Goshen, New York on a traitor-hunting mission, may not have been able to apprehend the final trio he encountered. Still, he has successfully tracked down his main target and he learned a lot in a short time about a treasonous scheme—apparently connected to the Governor and the Mayor—to lure men of the colonies to join the British army. He can report all of this to his boss, the patriotic mill owner, Robert Erskine.
This information will be more valuable than William Leary can possibly know.
49
On June 6, 1776, George Washington returns to New York after a two-week trip to confer with the Continental Congress in Philadelphia.
In Philadelphia, John Hancock, John Adams, and several dozen other delegates met with him to discuss every facet of the war plan, trying eagerly to grasp the colonies’ prospects for the coming British offensive in New York City.
After this exhausting trip, Washington no doubt feels the familiar pressure: All these politicians, almost none of them with any military experience, are relying on him and his ill-equipped army to somehow succeed against the greatest military force in the world. They’re relying on him to provide hope and inspire confidence despite the staggering odds.
At the time of Washington’s return, reports confirm that the British fleet has officially departed from Halifax, Nova Scotia, and is sailing toward them. Many more vessels are en route from England, including the Hessian reinforcements. The latest intelligence suggests that the first arrival of the fleet could be as soon as two weeks.
Now back at his headquarters, Washington throws himself into the many endless tasks and responsibilities associated with the defense of the city. He personally visits and inspects the forts, barricades, and brigades spread all over Manhattan, western Long Island, and eastern New Jersey. A steady stream of messages and instructions flow to and from his headquarters about weapons, gunpowder, provisions, transportation, housing, logistics, training, battle plans, and chain of command.
All the while, Washington remains preoccupied by the continued threat of “intestine enemies” trying to organize against him and subvert his fragile army.
Before he left for Philadelphia, Washington had provided instructions to his top generals—specifically, Nathanael Greene, stationed on Long Island, and Israel Putnam, Washington’s second-in-command in New York City—to pursue aggressive action against the Loyalist plotters, particularly those rumored to be organizing on Long Island.
He encouraged them to consult with the new secret committee of the New York Provincial Congress—the Committee on Conspiracies—to round up suspects and help make arrests.
Upon his return, he is disappointed to learn that little has actually been done on this front. The threat persists, no matter how hard he tries to combat it.
On June 10, 1776, four days after his return, Washington writes to John Hancock about this lingering fear:
I had no doubt when I left this city for Philadelphia but that some measures would have been taken to secure the suspected and dangerous persons of this Government before now, and left orders for the military to give every aid to the civil power; but the subject is delicate, and nothing is done in it; we may therefore have internal as well as external enemies to contend with.
Washington is right to worry. The plots against him are growing deeper and wider. It’s not just the Loyalists on Long Island or upstate New York who have fallen in with Governor Tryon’s scheme.
Internal enemies.
They’re in Manhattan now, much closer to him than he thinks. His enemies are with him at his downtown headquarters—and even near where he sleeps at night.
In fact, though Washington doesn’t know it yet, Tryon’s plot has infiltrated his own army, reaching those in whom the general has placed his greatest trust.
50
The secret committee.
Aka the “Committee on Intestine Enemies”
Aka the “Committee on Conspiracies.”
The name has changed a few times, but the mission of this elite new team has crystallized: uncover and investigate plots, conspiracies, and espionage efforts waged against the colonies and/or the Continental army.
Originating with an idea from George Washington, and comprised of carefully selected members of New York’s Provincial Congress, this committee is a dedicated intelligence and counterintelligence unit—and one without precedent in the history of the colonies.
Based on the many reports and rumors of Loyalist plots circulating in and around New York City, the focus of the group is on “internal enemies”—that is, spies, traitors, and schemers operating within the colonies, undermining the war effort against Great Britain.
In early June, the congress drafts a series of resolutions establishing the methods and guidelines for the committee.
They have authority to arrest suspected persons, based on their own warrants.
They can detain and interrogate these suspects, as needed.
They have a dedicated budget.
They will share intelligence directly with the Commander-in-Chief.
With George Washington’s permission, they have access to Continental soldiers to conduct raids or track down dangerous suspects.
Above all else: They must operate in total secrecy.
On Thursday, June 13, the congress also for
mally appoints to the committee the thirty-year-old lawyer and former delegate to the Continental Congress, John Jay. Soon, he will take a leadership role, guiding the committee through extraordinary circumstances. For now, he is one of nine members tasked to undertake something none of them has ever done before.
The next day, Friday, June 14, Jay is among the new members to swear a ceremonial oath before the New York Provincial Congress, an oath crafted specially for this unusual committee. One by one, each of them walks to the front of the City Hall chamber and swears on a Bible to “diligently, impartially, without fear, favor, affection, or hope of reward, to execute and discharge the duties imposed on them.”
In the previous two weeks, while the first resolutions were being debated and finalized, the committee had already started planning its work. Among the first tasks was to draw up a “List of Suspected Persons” on whom the committee can focus its efforts.
Divided by region, the list includes every person in the colony of New York, from any station of life, who is known or suspected of bearing traitorous designs against the colonies. The committee members have assembled these names—a few hundred of them, and growing—from the past few months of reports, rumors, and information about Loyalist plots in the region. The list will form the basis of where the committee will direct its resources and efforts.
Whose name is first on the list? The most obvious: “William Tryon, on board the Ship of War Duchess of Gordon.”
The committeemen clearly believe Tryon to be the mastermind of some or all of the plots uncovered thus far, and consider him a profound threat. There is nothing they can do to actually arrest or apprehend Tryon—he is totally unreachable on the Duchess of Gordon—but nonetheless the Governor looms large over the committee’s mission.
Another name near the top of the list is that of New York City’s Mayor, David Mathews. Interestingly, before this point the colonial authorities had so far focused little attention on Mathews, despite his known loyalty to Tryon. Perhaps this is because Mayor Mathews has kept a low profile in the city, spending much of his time at his home in Flatbush, across the East River in Kings County. In any case, by including Mathews’s name on the list, the committee now acknowledges him as a potential enemy.
Filled with these and other prominent officials, the list goes on with scores of other names, divided geographically. There are “suspected persons” listed from New York City, Kings County, Queens County, Nassau County, Westchester County, Dutchess County, and other areas of the colony.
The “List of Suspected Persons” will provide a starting point for the secret committee’s work. The members can make arrests, conduct raids, interrogate suspects, gather intelligence, and unmask spies and traitors.
Whatever plots are rife around the city, the secret committee will seek to uncover and stop them.
The problem is, it may already be too late.
51
The four Long Island counterfeiters spend the last weeks of May and the first weeks of June primarily in one place: a prison.
For almost four weeks now, they’ve been held at the underground jail beneath City Hall in lower Manhattan, awaiting resolution to their case. Had the congress deemed them innocent, they would have been released quickly in order to free up space. The fact that they are still in prison suggests a guilty determination is pending, and they are in line to hear their sentence and fate.
With the city on the verge of battle, and with colonial authorities preoccupied by matters of war, the four Long Islanders must surely fear that their case may be forgotten or delayed indefinitely, leaving them in a jail cell alongside hundreds of other forgotten prisoners while war rages above them. What will happen to them if the British take the city while they are still locked up? It’s impossible to know.
The group’s desperation is such that on at least one occasion in late May, some or all of the foursome try to plan a jailbreak. The specific details aren’t known, but on May 28—almost two weeks after their disastrous testimony and subsequent confinement—the Provincial Congress receives a report from the prison that “the persons under guard, charged with counterfeiting Continental and Provincial money, were not properly attended to by some of the guards, and that there is great danger of an escape.”
As a result, the Provincial Congress issues the following directive, highly unwelcome to the four prisoners:
WHEREAS it has been represented to this Congress that Israel Young, Isaac Young, Henry Dawkins and Isaac Ketcham, committed to the custody of guards … on suspicion of counterfeiting the Continental money … are mediating their escape … Ordered, that the said persons be forthwith put in irons and kept in the place where they now are, and that the guards be directed not to permit any person to have access to them, without license from this Congress.
So now, after whatever escape they attempted or were thought to be attempting, the four counterfeiters are denied any visitors and, even worse, put in painful leg irons within their cells. With chains affixed to the wall, these thick metal shackles on both of a prisoner’s legs hinder most movement and often lead to terrible sores, bruises, cramps, and permanent muscle damage.
Although the four suspects were probably initially jailed together, as weeks pass, they are each moved around and reshuffled to different cells in the busy prison, sharing cells with other inmates.
A few other details of the prisoners’ confinement are also on the record. On May 30, two days after the foursome is put in irons, the congress receives a petition from Israel Young’s wife to visit him in the jail, which it grants on condition that the visit is monitored.
Two days after that, on June 1, authorities apprehend Israel and Isaac’s younger brother, Philip Young, and jail him too, on suspicion of also being involved in the counterfeiting operation. After questioning Philip, and after receiving several written petitions arguing for the younger brother’s innocence—including one from Dawkins and one from the Youngs’ grief-stricken father—the congress releases Philip, satisfied that he was never involved in the older brothers’ criminal scheme.
As the days pass in early June, the prisoners’ circumstances appear downright grim. On Friday, June 7, three weeks since the four counterfeiters were first imprisoned, jail guards report to their superiors that Henry Dawkins “is injured by the leg irons, so that his legs swell.”
The guards remove Dawkins’s irons temporarily. The next day, a sister of Israel and Isaac Young petitions to visit her brothers in jail, expressing fear that she may never see them again. The congress once again allows a brief, monitored visit.
Each of the would-be counterfeiters is no doubt suffering in his own way, but perhaps none of them is as full of regret over their situation as the group’s brief accomplice, Isaac Ketcham.
Based on one aborted mission to buy paper stock for the team, he has been seemingly lumped in with the others and is now stuck in irons in the same crowded, filthy prison. From this terrible circumstance, his mind goes again and again to the same place: his children.
Isaac Ketcham has six children back home on Long Island. Their mother is dead. With Ketcham in jail, the children are alone, fending for themselves. Because of Ketcham’s one trip to Philadelphia, during which he only halfheartedly pursued the paper that the counterfeiters asked him to find, his children have no one to feed, clothe, or care for them.
Desperate to plead his case, on June 9, Ketcham writes a petition from his cell, proclaiming his profound regret for his minor role in the counterfeiting scheme. He says that he is “deeply impressed with shame and confusion for his past misconduct,” and now “most humbly begs to lay his unhappy case before this honourable House.”
He also appeals to the congress to take pity, if not on him, then on his little ones. “Your Petitioner further implores the consideration of this House in behalf of six poor children, who are now lamenting the loss of a tender mother and the imprisonment of a father.”
He writes that some of his children are “dangerously ill by sore s
ickness, without any person to attend or comfort them,” and asks if he “could be permitted to go to them for a few days, in order to provide some proper persons to attend on them.”
Initially, Ketcham’s letter doesn’t appear to go anywhere. A full week after Ketcham writes it, the congress doesn’t seem to have received it, nor is it acknowledged anywhere else. Probably, the jail authorities didn’t even consider it worth sending upstairs to the congressmen.
Such are Isaac Ketcham’s seemingly hopeless circumstances on the night of Saturday, June 15, when his cell door opens and two new prisoners are escorted in.
These two additions to Ketcham’s cell are loud and argumentative. One of them speaks with an Irish accent.
Normally, Ketcham probably wouldn’t care who his new jailmates are, or what they have to say. But soon, Ketcham learns that he shares something in common with them: They too have been arrested in relation to counterfeiting. It has nothing to do with the Long Island operation; these two men had obtained some counterfeit bills from some other place, and authorities caught them trying to buy goods with them.
Perhaps because of this commonality, Ketcham and the two prisoners engage in conversation.
Here’s where things get interesting.
With the guards out of earshot, the new prisoners start cursing the colonies and swearing their support for Great Britain and the King. This alone is not so surprising—in fact, the New York prisons are full of Loyalists who are jailed specifically for supporting the Crown at a time of war.
It’s what Ketcham hears next that makes him really take notice. These prisoners say they are actually soldiers in the Continental army.
If they’re Continental soldiers, why are they cursing the rebellion and praising the King?
