Chapters (24)
- Cover
- Title
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- Preface
- The Letter
- To the Reader
- Chapter One: A Death in the Family
- Chapter Two: Farewell and a Call to Duty
- Chapter Three: Listen and Learn
- Chapter Four: Planting the Seeds of War
- Chapter Five: A Call to Arms
- Chapter Six: Selecting the Best Riflemen
- Chapter Seven: The Long March to Boston
- Chapter Eight: 1775: The Continental Army—From Defense to Offense
- Chapter Nine: 1775: The Order Is Given
- Chapter Ten: 1775: A Sortie Delayed
- Chapter Eleven: 1775: River-Ready Batteaux?
- Chapter Twelve: 1775: Winter in the Forest Primeval
- Chapter Thirteen: 1775: Quebec—Setting the Stage for Battle
- Chapter Fourteen: 1775-1776: Quebec—The Forlorn Hope
- Postscript
- Acknowledgments
As we waded through the crowd with my dog at heel, I noticed most of the men were tall, “rangy” fellows, dressed in hunting clothes like my linsey-woolsey blouse, leather leggin’s, and moccasins. There were a few in fine shirts and trousers and wearing shoes and stockings. Those I could see were all armed with muskets or rifles and everyone appeared to be considerably older than I. Though I had never seen any of these fellows in church, they all seemed to know Rev. Thruston.
We were escorted into the “great room” of the tavern and as my eyes adapted to the darkness, I could see a very tall, powerfully built man seated at a table near the fireplace talking quietly with three others. They were all wearing hunting attire. As Rev. Thruston walked to the table, the big man stood, smiled, shook the pastor’s hand, and said to the others, “The reverend—he pronounced it ‘rev-ar-end’—is here, let’s begin . . .”
The group stood and spoke quietly among themselves for a few moments while Casey and I waited out of earshot as my father taught me to do. At one point, Rev. Thruston pointed toward me and my dog and everyone glanced in our direction, then everyone chuckled. I was glad it was dark enough the others couldn’t see the color rise in my cheeks.
As they began to file out onto the porch, I noticed the big man had a tomahawk and a pistol in his belt. He grabbed a rifle propped by the door, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “So you are Nathanael, James Henry Newman’s youngest son.”
I nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You look like your father, only bigger. I’m Captain Daniel Morgan.” He smiled and I could see the scar on his cheek wrinkle as he did so. Then he said, “That’s a good-looking dog. Stay near me, outside on the porch. We’ll talk later, but first, I have some news for everyone.”
Endnotes
1. Bricks were often used as ballast in the bilges of wooden sailing vessels. If a ship was deemed no longer seaworthy, before it was broken up the bricks were removed and used to cobble streets and for constructing “fine buildings.”