He kept his distance as he followed, needing to make sure they arrived safely for his own peace of mind, then continued on his way. He left a message with Jack for Mrs. Washington that Lucy had done her job well and could be put into service as an informant. In a rush, he hurried to the room he had appropriated on the neighboring property, changed into the worn clothes of a sailor, and returned to the wharf.
As he made subtle inquiries about the questionable ship in the harbor, he had to force his thoughts away from Lucy and her sweet smile. If he didn’t maintain his focus, he was likely to end up dead, or worse–imprisoned by the enemy.
Branch smiled and pretended to be a half-witted man seeking employment. He acted with just enough joviality to get an invitation to board the ship, owned by a Loyalist known for his emphatic support of the king.
An hour later, Branch was careful to look harmless as the captain asked him a few questions to which he offered stammered responses, hoping to draw on any sympathy the man might hold for a simpleton in need of work.
“What did you say your name was, son?” the captain asked, staring at Branch.
“William, sir. William Jones, sir,” Branch said, twisting his hat in nervous hands and keeping his gaze on his feet.
“Very well, William. You may work on my ship, but only for a few days. I’ll be leaving for New York soon and can’t take you along. For now, you’ll report to Mr. Collins. There is much to be done before we leave.”
“Yes, sir,” Branch said, pasting on what he hoped was a ridiculous grin and nodding his head enthusiastically. “Thank you, sir!”
“Take him below deck, Matthews, and see that Collins knows I’ve approved his temporary placement aboard the ship.”
Branch grinned at Matthews, settled his hat on his head, and followed as the man led the way below deck.
“Collins!” Matthews hollered over the sounds of clanking metal.
A man with a disheveled queue and a look of irritation on his face leaned around a support post. “What is it?”
“The captain hired this dunce to help load our cargo,” Matthews said, offering Branch a look of disgust. “Put him to work. And make sure he is off the ship when we set sail.”
Collins nodded, then glowered at Branch. “Come along, then. There is work aplenty, even for the likes of you.”
For the next two days, Branch labored hard with little food or rest. Collins treated those working on the ship just slightly better than animals. As Branch worked, packing the heavy crates of provisions into the hold, he kept his eyes and ears open, and his mouth firmly closed. The owner of the ship, along with the captain, was clearly a Loyalist. The contents of the ship were bound for New York to aid the king’s troops already establishing themselves on Staten Island under the direction of General William Howe.
Branch waited until everyone was asleep to sneak off the ship and into town, heading directly to the home of a doctor who was as patriotic as General Washington himself. After awakening the man with a tap on his window, Branch told himwhat he required, then rushed to the room above the blacksmith shop, where his friend Rowan resided.
Quietly creeping inside, Branch waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room before he made his way over to the cot where Rowan slept and placed a hand over the man’s mouth.
Rowan’s eyes shot open, and he reached for the pistol beside his bed.
Branch grabbed it before his friend decided to shoot him and stepped back. “It’s me, Rowan. Branch Barton.”
Rowan sat up and lit a candle, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he glared up at Branch. “What in the devil are you doing?” The man’s nose wrinkled. “And why do you smell like you’ve crawled through a wagon full of night soil?”
“I’ve been working on Eagan Masterson’s blasted ship the past few days. He’s loaded it to the gills with supplies bound for New York, and he’s planning on leaving in the morning. I need you to get a message to John Greene. He’ll be able to board the ship, capture the crew, and take over the supplies for our men. Just tell him to keep an eye on the water forThe Hollyhock. By the time it reaches John, no one will put up any resistance. Tell him to have a crew ready to take the supplies to our troops.”
“How do you intend to incapacitate the entire crew?”
Branch grinned. “I have a plan. You might warn John that he’ll need a few men willing to clean up what will undoubtedly be a mess. There are plenty of buckets and rags on the ship.”
“You might consider your own clothes among the rags,” Rowan said, snarling his nose at him again. “Have you finally gone wild and turned into a cavedweller?”
Branch laughed and slapped his friend’s brawny shoulder. “I might just burn the clothes when I finish with Masterson’s crew. Are you certain you’ve come far enough from sleep to know what to do?”
Rowan stretched and yawned, reached for the breeches he had left on the floor by his cot, and tugged them on before he stood.
“I will get a message to John right away. When will the ship sail?”
“The captain said he intends to set sail at dawn. We don’t have much time,” Branch said and turned to leave.
“You look half-starved, man. Do you need food?” Rowan moved to where part of a loaf of bread sat beneath a cloth.
“I am half-starved and would gratefully accept a slice of bread. Speaking of food, warn John not to eat anything that will be served in the morning. Toss it overboard, and get food from the storage.”
