We gathered on the porch to take advantage of the light and Mrs. Morgan served us tea as Rev. Thruston read to us a missive he received this morning from Thomas Nelson, in Philadelphia:

“Congressional Dispatch, May 18th, in the Year of Our Lord, 1775:

“Our Virginia Congressional Delegation has asked me to report to you the following news for prompt dissemination far and wide:

“On May 10th and 11th in this the year of our Lord, 1775, Patriot forces commanded by Col. Benedict Arnold of Massachusetts and Col. Ethan Allen of Connecticut and his Green Mountain Boys militia captured Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Crown Point, two strategically important and supposedly impregnable British-held bastions on the shores of Lake Champlain in New York.

“The entire British garrisons of both fortresses on the direct route to Montreal surrendered and all their heavy artillery (cannons, howitzers, and mortars) along with gunpowder and other valuable military stores are now in Patriot hands.

“Please disseminate word of this great victory throughout the Commonwealth so our fellow Patriots will be encouraged and the loyalists consorting with our former governor turned despot will be disheartened.

//signed// Thomas Nelson, Congressional Delegate from the Commonwealth of Virginia.”3

Immediately after reading the message, Rev. Thruston added, “Now, the reason for this meeting; Who here knows where these Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point are located?”

We all looked at one another until Mrs. Morgan said quietly, “That’s why I asked Nathanael to bring the map his father showed us last year when he described the mail routes Mr. Franklin devised as Royal Postmaster before he was dismissed by the authorities in London.”

With the aid of the magnifying glass, we found Lake Champlain and both forts on the map. Capt. Morgan’s only comment, “This Colonel Arnold may be just the kind of stout fellow I should have beside me in a fight.”

Saturday, June 10th, 1775: Williamsburg, Virginia’s capital, is now surrounded by Virginia Militiamen. But the best news was in the letter I received today from my father:

June 8th, 1775

My dear son, Nathanael:

Please accept my apologies for not writing more often. I am now commanding a contingent of Rifle Militiamen deployed in the thick forest surrounding Governor Dunmore’s hunting lodge, Porto Bello. Your brother Paul was elected by our unit to be my deputy.

Before being ordered here, we were part of the perimeter controlling access into and out of Williamsburg. While there, Paul and I safely made several trips into and out of the capital and even walked by our home where you and he were born. Unfortunately, a British or Tory officer, judging by the Union Jack hanging in front of the house, has apparently commandeered it.

Several weeks ago our cowardly Royal Governor, accompanied by a contingent of Royal Marines, fled his palace and joined his family here at Porto Bello.