“Do you really want to exchange a Parliament—which I grant you is inept—for an illegal congress and the tyranny of the mob?” Master demanded of John Jay. “You can’t have the city run by men like Charlie White.”

Besides this, there was also another, obvious consideration. If the colonies moved toward rebellion, London would have to react. With force.

John Master was walking up Broadway toward Trinity one day when he saw a clergyman he knew. The clergyman was a scholarly gentleman who taught at King’s College. The previous week this learned divine had published a firm but reasoned statement of the Loyalist case that John had considered admirable, and so he went up to thank him. The clergyman was clearly delighted, but taking John by the arm he also told him: “You must do your part too, you know.”

“In what way?”

“You must lead, Master. You’re a respected man in the city. Jay and his like are going to the dogs. If sound men like you don’t take the lead, then who will?”

“But apart from Trinity vestry, I’ve never taken any public position,” John objected.

“So much the better. You can step forward as an honest man, impelled only by a sense of duty. Tell me this, how many of the larger city merchants would you say are loyal, at present?”

“Perhaps half, I’d guess.”

“And the smaller traders and better sort of craftsman?”

“Harder to say. Less than half—but many of those may be persuadable.”

“Precisely. Somebody has to give them backbone. You could do it—if you have the courage.” And seeing Master look uncertain, he went on eagerly: “There are farmers upriver and out on Long Island who would rally to the cause. Most of the Queens County men, to my knowledge, are Loyalists. Even the poorer sort in the city can be led back to reason. All is not lost. I urge you, Master, search your conscience and do your duty.”

John returned home, somewhat flattered, but uncertain. He discussed it with Mercy.

“Thee must follow what thy conscience tells thee,” she said. “And I shall be at thy side.”

He thought about it for a week. Then he went to work. He started inviting not only merchants to his house, but spread the net wider, to any honest traders and craftsmen whom he thought might like a return to order. He took the Brooklyn ferry, and rode out to solid Dutch farmers who had no patience with the radicals. He even, with no small courage, went into the city taverns and discussed the issues with laboring men and sailors. On one of these occasions he saw Charlie White standing near. Charlie eyed him with disgust, but didn’t interfere.

And perhaps it was because he was so busy with all these activities that he did not take sufficient notice, at first, when his wife started to look tired.