If Abigail was a support to him, he had to say that Hudson’s son Solomon had also come into his own. Hudson was always finding ways to keep the boy busy in the house. When a leak appeared in the roof after a storm, the young fellow was up there fixing it in no time, and did the job thoroughly. Twice, in the early months of the new year, Hudson had asked if Solomon mightn’t be sent to work for Susan for a while up in Dutchess County. But the young man was making himself so useful here in New York that Master had refused to think of it.

By mid-March, Mercy was getting very thin and her face was gaunt. But nature in her kindness seemed to be taking her away into a realm of increasing sleepiness. If John worried about Abigail, who was looking tired and wan, he scarcely realized how strained he looked himself. Just before the end of March, when he was sitting with Mercy one night, she put her thin hand in his and murmured: “I can’t hold out any longer, John.”

“Don’t go,” he said.

“It’s time,” she answered. “Thee has suffered enough.”

She faded away at dawn.

It was three weeks later that one of the warehouse men came running to the door with the news from Boston.

“There’s been a fight. The British redcoats have been licked by the Patriots at Lexington.”

John Master rushed out of his house at once. For an hour he gathered all the news he could. As he came by the waterfront, he noticed that a ship had just come in from England. But his attention was drawn to a crowd of men by another ship that was about to leave. The men, with whoops and cries, were busy unloading its cargo onto the dock.

“What on earth are they doing?” he asked a waterman.

“It’s a cargo of provisions for the English troops. The Liberty Boys are making sure they don’t get them,” the waterman told him. “There’s another party gone up to the arsenal to take all the guns and ammunition.” He grinned. “If the troops come down from Boston, they’ll find our boys ready for them.”

“But this is revolution,” Master protested.

“Reckon it is.”

And Master was just wondering what to do when young Solomon found him.

“Miss Abigail said to come home at once, Boss.”

“Oh? What’s happened?”

“Mister James just arrived from London.”

“James?”

“Yes, Boss. An’ he have a little boy with him.”

“I’ll come at once,” cried Master. “And his wife?”

“No, Boss. No wife. They came alone.”

The Patriot

THEY DINED EARLY, James and his father, Abigail, and Weston, the little boy. Hudson and Solomon waited at table.