Ch. 12 CH

During the harsh winter, the narrator is concerned about their friend, Josiah, who is sailing in the war. They visit Josiah's uncle, Captain Green, to inquire about him. Captain Green informs them that Josiah's ship is patrolling the Carolina coast and that the war is not going well for the American soldiers. The narrator becomes fearful for Josiah's safety. They later learn that General Lincoln in South Carolina has fallen to the British, and many soldiers, including Josiah, have been taken prisoner. The narrator's sister, Mary, decides to visit Josiah on the prison ship, despite the dangers. With the help of Captain Green, they plan their journey to New York City. They meet a man named Mr. Wilcox, who may be a spy, and he takes them to Wallabout Bay where the prison ship is located. Mr. Wilcox leaves them in the care of an elderly woman, and the narrator and Mary await their chance to see Josiah. CHAPTER XII SEVENTEEN SEVENTY-NINE TO SEVENTEEN EIGHTY During our harsh winter, I thought of Josiah often. I pictured him straining against biting winds as he sailed through rough seas. On an errand to Providence, I stopped by the house of Josiah's uncle, Captain Green. Looking half asleep, the big man with a face like leather opened the door for me to enter. The air inside was only a bit warmer than the bitter cold outside. Good morning, Captain Green. I was wondering if you have received a letter from Josiah. It's been three months now. The captain groaned as he leaned over to place logs on his nearly extinguished fire. No, I fear not, but I've heard his ship is down south patrolling the Carolina coast. People say the war is almost over. I set a pot of water to boil over the fire for the captain. I expect I'll see Josiah home within the month. They write that foolish hogwash in the papers. There's no money or supplies for our poor soldiers. This blasted cold helps the British batter us down. We'll never stop fighting until we win. When Josiah's uncle didn't answer, I left without word. Captain Green planted a seed of fear inside me that grew into a giant weed. I'd always thought we'd beat the British, but if we failed, all those lost lives were for naught. At night I sat in front of the fire with my head down. When spring arrived, the hard labor of planting kept me too tired to dwell on dark thoughts. One day Mr. Olney pulled me aside to talk to me. I've learned that General Lincoln in South Carolina has fallen to the British. They say more than 5,000 soldiers, seamen, and militiamen have been taken prisoner. Mr. Olney's eyes darkened. Commodore Whipple and his crew were some of those who surrendered. It is likely your friend Josiah is among them. Finding it difficult to breathe, I rub my chest. May I go to Providence once I've finished work? Perhaps Josiah's uncle has more news. Farmer Olney patted me on the shoulder, yes, son, you may. On my way into town, images of Josiah came to mind. We had spent many afternoons fishing and swimming during the warm months in Rhode Island. Those days were better than jewels gained in a prize. Once in Providence Harbor, I found Josiah's uncle on the deck of his sloop. A gust of wind sprayed salt water on me. Captain, what have you heard of your nephew, I asked. Not good. Commodore Whipple had 220 men on board the frigate Providence. The crew members are listed as rebels against our Lord the King. The withered sailor threw a fish into a bucket, then rubbed his gnarled and leathery fingers on his pant legs. I am certain Josiah was among those men. But where are they sending the prisoners? I don't know as yet. Captain Green's head sagged. I'll tell you when I get news. The captain sent for me mid-July, a month after my 16th birthday. When I entered his home, the captain was sitting like a stone. I choked on the strong stench of rum in the air. The old Jersey was known for its unclean and disease-ridden condition. As many as a thousand prisoners were packed in the ship's hull at one time. The captain's shoulders sank with the weight of his despair. People say that eight dead bodies a day are removed from that ship, twice as many men die in that horrid prison that are killed in battles on land. I drew my arms tight around my stomach. Is there anything to be done? Commodore Whipple sequestered in South Carolina and can do nothing. However, I sent a request to General Washington, asking him to arrange an exchange of prisoners. Commodore Whipple has brought fame to the Continental Navy. Perhaps the general will do the exchange to honor Whipple. When I told my sister Mary about Josiah's imprisonment, I thought she might burst into tears. Instead, she was as unmoving as a giant boulder. I'll send him letters. I don't know if he'll receive them. I didn't want Mary to have false hope. Nonetheless, I shall write to Josiah. Even if I wanted, I knew I could not keep Mary from her plan. Two months passed with no word of Josiah. I visited Captain Green on his sloop. Have you heard from General Washington? I asked. His aide wrote me that no prisoner exchanges are possible. The captain took the letter from his coat, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it onto the deck. With all of his power, why can't Washington do something? Have you heard any news from the other prisoners' families? Several men and boys from Providence were being held in the prison ship. In the past two weeks, three more men have died. There must be another way. Perhaps Josiah can escape. He's strong and clever. Captain Green growled a curse word. He'd be a fool to try. A fellow captain told me of six captives who attempted escape from the Jersey within this past month. The men jumped into the bay but were overheard by the night watch. The guards shot four of them in the water. A fifth captive returned to the boat, but the British attacked and killed him with their bayonets. The sixth man survived by clinging to the anchor throughout the night. Luckily, he rejoined the other captives the next day without notice by the guards. The captain spat tobacco on the deck. Even if Josiah wanted to flee, he wouldn't have the strength after months on that floating deathtrap. I felt a black cloud grow inside me. I stopped by my home in North Providence in need of consolation. Mary pulled me aside out of Mother's hearing. I shall visit Josiah. How could Mary think of such a crazy idea? I shook her by the shoulders. That's impossible for many, many reasons. First of all, they'll never allow you to board the prison ship. I'll pass on a letter to Josiah. I don't know if he received the others. The prison ship is several days' travel from here. Much of the journey is behind enemy lines. Do you think you can walk among the British as if you are delivering daisies? I remembered my journey across Long Island with John Sawyer and Rock. We had narrowly missed being recaptured on more than one occasion. I shall walk there by myself if need be. She sealed her lips as tight as a clamshell. I hadn't seen Mary smile since we'd learned of Josiah's imprisonment. If so, then I'll go with you. I knew I couldn't change her mind. Besides, I was familiar, too familiar, with the path from Providence to New York City. With all the dangers, we couldn't risk walking there. I spoke to Captain Green. My sister wants to visit Josiah. That is ridiculous, said the seaman. Your dear sister, I fear, is losing her mind. There's no stopping Mary. Here's my idea. You can take us there in your sloop. All the way to New York City, we'll be captured. Speak no more of this. I disembarked from the ship. From the shore, I shouted to the captain, I warn you, my sister doesn't heed any advice. A week later, Captain Green sent me a message. When I called on him, the sea-worn man said, this is how we'll carry out your insane idea. We'll sail in my vessel until we reach Sag Harbor on Long Island. My crew and I have a delivery to make there. A friend who pretends to be a Tory will carry you by horse and cart until you reach a western shore. He'll devise some way for you to go to the prison ship. Farmer only permitted me to leave. My mother wept at Mary's and my plan, but she did not try to stop us. Stephen said, I'm coming with you. My mother squeezed Stephen's shoulders. Absolutely not. As the man of this house, you're staying here. It was evening in early September when Mary and I joined Captain Green on his sloop. His crew of four men nodded at us solemnly. We slipped by the British ships near Newport in the faint light of a new moon. Stopping in a leafy inlet in Connecticut, we rested and then traveled across the Sound to Sag Harbor. The captain set us ashore in a well-hidden cove not far from the village. I'll stay here to await you. I expect your journey will take four or five days. The captain shook his head. Why am I helping you on this devil's errand? For your nephew's sake, answered Mary, her head high. Of course, child, of course. I only hope I've not put your lives in danger. Before we left the ship, the captain shook my hand and patted Mary on the shoulder. The main street of Sag Harbor was filled with gentlemen, sailors, horses, and flea-bitten dogs. I wished we had time to visit John Sawyer, but we couldn't take the chance. I found the house of Captain Green's friend, being careful not to attract the attention of the British guards. A large, round man with thinning hair answered the door. He gave us a broad grin. Hello, I'm Mr. Wilcox, and you must be the Angels of Mercy. Come inside. You need to rest before we begin our journey. Except for his servant, the man lived alone. Over dinner, he spoke of his experiences on Long Island under British rule. Having the role of a loyalist allows me to come and go as I please, he said with a wink. I eyed Mr. Wilcox closely. The man must be a spy. He had every opportunity to discover facts about the enemy, then pass on the information to Captain Green. After a cup of tea, the man patted his stomach in satisfaction. Tomorrow I have a delivery to make near Wallabout Bay. You two can accompany me. We arose early in the morning to begin our journey to the western end of Long Island. As we traveled by cart, I recognized areas where I had walked with John Sawyer and Rock. In a day and a half, we arrived at Wallabout Bay. Mr. Wilcox pointed out the prison ship to us. See the large ship about a mile out in the water? She was a vessel in the British Navy. They dismantled her sails and rigging and closed all the gun ports. The Jersey is now a prison ship for captured American seamen. Mr. Wilcox knocked on the door of a broken down house near the shore. A boy let us inside a dusty room. A large elderly woman with stringy yellow hair sat in a battered chair. Mr. Wilcox said, Dave Grant, these are the two we discussed. Children, this is where I leave you. I will return for you in the early evening. The woman coughed and took a drag from a pipe. It was the first time I'd ever seen a woman smoke. Come along, ride with me in my boat, she said in a husky voice. There was a rowboat at a dock near the woman's house. Mary and I climbed in and sat at the bow while two boys assisted Dave Grant into the stern of the vessel. I feared the boat would sink, but it stayed a few inches above the water. The woman is broad as her boat, sitting with her hands at rest on widespread knees. She pointed to packages of items in the boat. Well, sell articles to the prisoners, to those who have money or something to exchange or court. I'm not a charity. The woman's hoarse laugh turned into a cough. What do you sell? I asked. Spackle, soft bread, fruit, a little of this, a little of that. As the boys rowed the boat to the Black Hole Jersey, Dame Grant spoke again. In the Jersey days of glory, she carried sixty guns and sailed the seas. Now the rebels call her a floating death trap. As we approached the ship, I felt overcome with a feeling of dread. It was as if the diseased vessel was reaching out to overpower us.