Patriots: Boston

Chapter Twenty Five: End of the Siege

   The new year 1776 rang in somewhat peacefully at first. 1775 had been so crazy and violent and terrible I was glad to be rid of it. I remembered how this felt last year, so wonderful and full of hope. I was now 15 years old, as I had turned 15 in November, and I had seen way too much that I hoped I never would see. I hoped 1776 would be a little better.
One January day after work it was not too late, so I stopped at the Gazette to see Eli. It had been a long time since I had seen him. I walked in the door and he was working frantically to print what seemed like thousands of papers at a time. I had never seen him so busy! The store was also super crowded with men trying to all buy copies of the same pamphlet. Mr. Edes was trying to take money from the customers, but looking very flustered. I waited quietly in the back.
   "Alright! Alright!" Mr. Edes shouted over everyone. "This office is closing in two minutes! Some of you may just have to make your purchases tomorrow!"
   The men all protested at once but Mr. Edes just waved them off. Those who could bought the pamphlets and the store cleared out pretty quickly. Finally I caught Eli's view.
  "Oh, good evening, Liza," he said with a smile.
  "Good evening, Eli," I said, "Am I too late to visit? I heard you were closing..."
  "No, no, you can stay. We just wanted the customers out," he sighed. "How are you?"
  "Good, I guess," I said. "Um, what were all those men buying?"
  "Common Sense by Thomas Pain," Eli said. "Would you like a copy?"
"What is it about?" I asked as he handed it to me.
He smirked at me, "What the title says..."
"Is it philosophy then?" I asked. "I've never seen that many people interested in philosophy...."
"It's not really philosophy, it's more like political writing. It talks about how our breaking away from England is just common sense and how there is no reason why we should not break away. It has been all the rage in Philadelphia and has made its way through the colonies. We just got it today, and it has been a madhouse, as you can see. Everyone wants to get their hands on a copy because they've heard good things about it. It's pretty long to have to set the print for," He sighed.
"Eli, please start cleaning up," Mr. Edes said as he was picking up the papers that had fallen on the other side of the counter.
   Eli began to pick up the papers that were littering the floor behind the counter. "What a mess! And over 40 pages too! Well, I guess it'll be a late night for me!"
   "Would you like some help?" I asked.
  "I couldn't make you do that. Besides, I need to find them by page so I can reassemble them," he sighed.
   "Are you sure you don't need help? That seems like a very tedious job, and you shouldn't be up too late," I said.
    He stood up and looked at me. "You seem to know a lot about staying up too late."
  "Excuse me?" I asked, pretending to be shocked. I knew I looked like death.
   Since the boys left I had been worried about them, about my family, about the Harolds and what they might do to me, or to Amaka. I had also fallen into a sadness that seemed to completely overtake me in every moment of silence. I felt that I could cry at any moment of the day no matter what happened. The cold and grey weather did not help my mental state either. As a result, I had indeed stopped being able to sleep, on top of getting home late. I also found refuge from my sadness in just not eating. I could not hold anything down anyway.
  "Liza," Eli said, regaining my attention. "You have massive bags under your eyes and your hands are shaking. Are you alright?"
  "Yes, I'm fine," I said. "Just...tired is all."
  "You don't look well," He said, looking concerned.
  "I know, but it's nothing," I said quickly.
  "Can I walk you home?" He asked.
  "That's not necessary," I said as politely as I could. I couldn't stand people worrying about me.
  "You need an escort. You shouldn't be walking home alone in this bitter cold alone," he insisted.
  "Alright," I gave in. "As long as it's alright with Mr. Edes."
  Mr. Edes nodded to Eli. He grabbed his coat and muffler and took my arm. We walked back to my house in silence. I could tell he wanted to talk to me and wanted to know why I looked terrible and I wasn't bouncing off the walls with energy like normal, but I was not having it. I thanked him for the chivalry and went inside. Eleanor was sitting on a stool at the counter like Zeb usually did when we waited for me on nights like this.
  "Who was that?" She asked suspiciously.
  "A friend," I said.
  "I want his name, where he is from, his job..." Eleanor interrogated me.
  "Slow down, Ma," I grumbled. "His name is Eli Clark, he's from a little village somewhere, and he is Mr. Edes' apprentice at the Boston Gazette. What else do you need to know?"
  "Do you like him?" She asked slyly.
  "Not in the sense you are looking for as a gossipy 12 year old," I sighed. "What do you want, Ellie?"
   "I want you to be home!" She exclaimed. "You live here, but yet you are never home! You come home at these late hours, and then you don't eat supper, or breakfast, and I hope you eat dinner..."
"Ellie, that is none of your business!" I snapped.
"Well, I do not see why you do not eat anymore. The only one who gave you trouble for it was Miss Cadwell and Ma canceled the lessons once the boys left and we couldn't afford them!" She said, frustrated.
"Well, I've been under a lot of pressure!" I snapped. "Maybe I haven't had any time to do things like eat, or sleep, or anything! Maybe I do not want to eat the food here that all these growing little children need more than I do!"
"What?!" My mother shouted as she ran into the room. "That's what you think?!"
"Ma, what is wrong with that?" I asked.
"That is how you cope?" She asked, softening, looking frightened.
"I-I guess. What's the matter?" I asked.
"That's...that's not a healthy way of thinking, Liza," my mother said. "That is a way to get yourself sick."
"I'm not sick, Ma," I said, trying to take a step forward to hang up my cloak.
"I've noticed you do not eat proper meals for months now! What is the problem?" Ma snapped.
"Nothing. I just don't like how I feel when I eat," I shrugged.
"Then you are sick," my mother said worriedly.
"I'm not sick, Ma. I promise," I said.
"Yes you are! Your nose is bright red and the rest of you is pale as a ghost!" She panicked.
"I'm just cold, Ma. It is cold outside. I might have a little cold, but that is it!" I felt like I was going to cry now but did not know why. "I don't like when you worry."
"You need to be worried about!" Eleanor piped up. "You spend more time crying at night than sleeping!"
"You do?" Ma asked in shock.
"No. Eleanor, why would you think that?" I snapped.
"I wake up sometimes to get water to drink, and there you are crying in your bed. It's every night," she said, looking scared. "You always seem sad."
"Well, maybe because I am!" I shouted, tears escaping my eyes. I refused to cry full out. I did not want to worry them more.
"Why?" My mother asked tenderly, pulling me into a hug. This was unusual for her to be this soft.
"There's...there's just so much!" I said shakily. "Does the family have enough food and money?"
"Yes," my mother said, "we have enough to get by. Why do you ask?"
"Just, my salary does not seem like a lot," I sighed.
"We have food. Have you seen the store?" Eleanor said.
"I never see any customers," I said.
"Business is fine when you are gone," Ma said gently.
"Do you mind if I just go to bed?" I asked.
"Eat supper first," Ma said seriously.
"No thank you," I said.
"No going to bed unless you have eaten something. There is corned beef in the kitchen. Good night," Ma said, taking Eleanor's hand and going back into the house part to go to sleep.
Once I knew they were gone I just went straight to bed. I was tired of corned beef anyway. I did find myself crying into my pillow for no reason I could pinpoint, but I went to sleep before the next hour. I was woken up in the morning, quite early, by Therese. She thought she was being helpful of course, as 4 year olds do, but it was 4 in the morning! I could not go back to sleep though, so I decided to dress and tie my hair back and go sit in the parlor. The Common Sense pamphlet was sitting on the table. I lit a candle and began to read it. It started off interesting enough. I kept reading and found myself getting lost in his words and thinking about them and how I agreed so much with what Mr. Paine had to say.
About a half hour into it, I was interrupted by my father. "What are you reading?" He asked.
"Common Sense by Thomas Paine," I said plainly.
"Either you are intense or you are insane," he said, taken aback, "You know how much controversy and interest that pamphlet has caused?"
"Have you read it?" I asked.
"No, I haven't been able to get a copy. How did you get one?" He asked.
"Edes' apprentice," I answered.
"Is it any good?" Papa asked.
"It's very good. I like how passionate Mr. Paine is in his writing," I said.
My father frowned. "So it's fire branding?"
"Not exactly. It is pretty intellectual if you understand it," I said.
   "I don't want you reading straight fire branding," my father said shortly.
   "Why?" I asked, "This isn't exactly fire branding..."
   He sighed, "I know you like the fun and the rush and the excitement you get from hearing someone screaming about something you like, but that really is a pretty ineffective way to get your point across in my opinion."
  "Talking at conventions is a good way to be heard," I said. "You know not many people can read around here. This is pretty subdued in comparison to what I hear happens down south."
  "I'm not saying you shouldn't be reading Common Sense, I'm just warning you, stay away from fire brands. They are the ones who are going to be killed if they are right out in the open," he sighed. "Why are you even up so early?"
  "Therese woke me up. I couldn't fall back asleep," I said.
  "And where is the little rascal now?" My father laughed.
  "Back asleep," I sighed.
  "And you are not," my father observed.
  "I just couldn't," I sighed. "But it's all fine."
  "Are you sure? You look tired," my father said, concerned.
  "I'm sure I'm fine. What time is it?" I asked.
   "It's about 5 o'clock," he said.
   "So why are you up?" I asked.
   "I have a meeting to go to," he said, looking around, probably for my little siblings.
   "About what? The store? The Sons of Liberty?" I asked.
"The Sons," he whispered.
"Might I come too?" I asked.
"No, your Ma wouldn't approve," He said quickly.
  "Ma doesn't approve of much," I muttered.
   "She just wants you to be safe and have a happy life," he said somewhat defensively.
   "Well, I'd be happiest with freedom," I said.
   "Be careful what you wish for," he said gravely. "I have to go now. Go to work on time."
  "I will, Papa," I said.
   He shut the door of the parlor and walked out of the building to walk to the meeting in the bitter cold.
  I went to work that day and it was business as usual, until of course, Mrs. Harold told me to mop the bedroom hallway. I was already feeling lightheaded from not eating any supper the night before or breakfast this morning. My stomach growled at me for the first time in forever, but I had to keep mopping. I slowly began to feel more and more dizzy. My hands felt weak, and the mop accidentally slipped from my fingers. I could not be fainting now, I had jobs to do. I leaned against the wall and took in a lot of big breaths of air. Unfortunately, I felt even more dizzy. The room got very bright and I felt very hot. The blinding light soon dissolved into black and I wound up lying on the ground when my knees gave out. I must have fainted.
   I of course do not know what happened next, but this is what I got from Amaka's testimony: Yes, I had indeed fainted and the captain had found me in the hallway. He apparently picked me up and took me to Amaka who put me in her bed to rest a bit until I woke up. The captain had also popped his head in a few times to see if I was alright. He also asked his wife for her smelling salts. She of course asked why, and he told her that I needed them. She of course asked what happened and he told her that I had fainted, but she really did not want to waste her salts on me. He instead sent Amaka into Cordelia's bedroom to swipe hers, and she did it successfully. Thank goodness I was breathing, because they held the salts to my nose and I sniffed it. It didn't really revive me, mainly because those only help when the person hasn't fainted yet. I was still delirious, but I was able to hear Amaka say something about "her way." She then ran to the kitchen and grabbed a semi-clean rag. She wet it in the cold water I had fetched from the well that morning and wiped my face with it. She also grabbed my legs and held them up above the bed so that the blood flow could get to my brain a bit more easily.
I opened my eyes slowly. Amaka was standing over me with Captain Harold.
"You alright, sweetie?" She asked.
"Yea," I said groggily.
"You're talkin' strange," Amaka smiled.
"Sorry, how long was I out?" I asked.
"Just a few minutes," Captain Harold said. "What happened?"
"I don't know, I haven't eaten much lately. I'm fine now. I'll get back to that hallway," I said, sitting up and immediately becoming dizzy.
"You needn't go back to that so fast," Captain Harold said kindly. "How about you stay here and rest a while?"
"I can't do that. I have a long list of things to do today!" I insisted, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and trying to stand up. I stumbled forward and fell on my hands and knees.
"You really oughtta rest just a minute, honey," Amaka said, seeming a little concerned.
"I'm fine, really. I'll go back to work," I said, standing up slowly so I did not get quite such a violent rush.
"I can not allow you to do that, Betty," Captain Harold said seriously. "He took me by the shoulders and sat me back down on the bed. "Can you see straight? Have you hit your head? Who is the king?"
"I'm fine, Captain Harold," I said, "really. You don't need to worry about me, I'm just your housekeeper."
"Yes, but you are a person," he said seriously.
That was the first time anyone in the Harold family had ever acknowledged that. I was so shocked to hear him say it honestly. Sure, he had been kind, but that was the simplest and nicest thing he had ever said to me.
"And you are obviously not in good health. Dinah, get her some food and a glass of water," he added, interrupting my train of thought.
"Yes, sir," she said, hurrying back into the kitchen.
"You needn't do that!" I called after her. Using that kind of air made me feel dizzy.
  "Let her get you some necessities, Betty. If you want to get back to work you have to regain a little strength," he said firmly. "You haven't eaten much lately?"
  "That doesn't matter. People go hungry everyday. I'm not dead," I said quickly.
  "You had a close call," he looked at me gravely.
  "Captain Harold, I was not going to die. I just got a little dizzy. It happens often," I brushed off his seriousness.
  "It does?" He asked, alarmed.
  "Why yes. It happens to my mother too sometimes. It must be passed down. It's no matter," I pressed.
  "You're trembling," he observed.
  Indeed I was, but I had to get back to work! "Another thing that happens often," I sighed.
  "You are making me nervous. Shall I send for a doctor?" He asked.
   "No, there is no need," I said firmly. I stood up slowly and did not feel dizzy. "I can stand now, I will go back to mopping."
   "You will not go anywhere, little lady. As the master of this house, I order you to stay in that bed for at least five minutes and to eat something and drink something," he said sternly.
  I sighed and did as I was told. Amaka came back with a biscuit and a glass of water. Captain Harold gave me a stern look as he left the room.
  "Here, Liza. This will be mild on your stomach," Amaka said, handing me the plate.
  "Thank you," I said, taking it and taking a small bite of the biscuit. "And thank you for taking care of me. It's so embarrassing to just randomly faint in the hallway while at work."
  "There's nothin' to be embarrassed about. People used to do it all the time in the fields," she said with a sad smile.
  "Where you used to work?" I asked.
  "Yes ma'am, I worked in the fields on a cotton plantation in Maryland when I was about your age," she said. "People would faint all the time, working out in the fields in the hot sun all day with little food and water."
   I gasped, "That's terrible!"
   "It is, but I'm glad I got out. Some, includin' my-" she paused, seeming like she did not wish to go on, "Never mind. I know how to revive people real quick. Just lift their legs."
  "That's helpful. Are you alright?" I asked, noting her troubled expression.
  "Yes, I'm all fine," she said quickly, "Are you feelin' any better?"
  "Yes, I could go mop now," I said, standing up.
  She smiled and pushed me back down. "You heard what the master said. Five minutes, it's only been about two."
  I sighed and waited my extra three minutes and went back to mopping. I still didn't eat much in the next month, and I did not stop feeling sad, but I managed. Uncle Tad stopped by the house one night and offered to take me to visit the army's camp. I had not heard much of the army since Christmas. I hadn't received a single letter from either one of the boys. It worried me of course, but I tried my very best to push thoughts of them to the back of my head. Whenever I thought of them my eyes would well up with tears and I would feel like crying.
One Sunday Uncle Tad picked me up from the Harold's when I got off work at noon on a Sunday to go to the army camp. It was bitter snowy cold in mid-February. I thought of all the poor soldiers who were stuck outside or in flimsy tents freezing to death. We arrived at the camp and I scanned, looking for the boys. Zeb caught my eye as he was helping three other men haul a cannon up the hill. Once he was done putting the cannon in place I waved to him. He saw me and ran over, catching me up in a hug and spinning me around as he always did.
"My goodness, Liza! What are you doing here?" He asked excitedly.
"Just thought I'd stop by. You haven't written me since Christmas!" I said worriedly.
"It's because there's been so much going on!" He said, grabbing my ungloved hands with his icy ones, then wincing.
"My goodness!" I exclaimed once I felt them. "Your hands are so cold!"
"Yeah? Well, I just hauled a cold cannon up the hill," he laughed.
I tried furiously to warm his big hands with my little child sized ones, but he quickly pulled away.
"That really hurts, you don't need to do that," he smiled.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I blushed and looked always there was a short parade of soldiers hauling cannons up the hill. "Where are all the cannons coming from?"
"Fort Ticonderoga, which was captured back in May," he said. "We've been firing on them from afar with the cannons with we had, but more and more arrive each day!"
  "That's great!" I exclaimed.
I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. "Think you could stop by without saying hello to me?"
"Isaac!" I shouted with joy as I embraced him. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, just lugged a cannon up a hill, trying new things everyday," he said with a smile.
"And you haven't written a single letter to me this whole time," I scolded playfully.
"Sorry, I was just afraid your parents might confiscate any letters from me before you even got to see 'em. How have you been?" He asked.
"I've," I paused, actually getting a good look at him. He was even taller than I had remembered, and way closer to Zeb's height. Also, now that his jacket had deteriorated, I could tell that he was so much more built up since he had left my house in the spring. Even his face looked way older, though his eyes were still the same, and thank the lord. "I've been fine," I finished after that long awkward pause.
"Now don't you lie to me, Liza Byers," Isaac smiled at me, actually concerned. "You don't seem as happy as I remember you months ago."
Was he actually noticing things? How could being around just men for about 8 months make him less clueless? Was it really just that obvious that I was suffering?
"Well," I said uneasily, "I've just missed you both so much..."
"Aww, really?" Isaac laughed.
"Yes," I said with a slight smile, my voice shaking, "Really."
"Are you still working for those wretched people?" Zeb asked gravely.
"Yes," I said, trying to brush the subject off quickly.
"Why? I expect they have gotten better if you haven't quit," He said sternly.
I did not want to worry either of them, so I decided to try to only say the positive sides of it, "Well, Mrs. Harold's husband came back. He's the kindest man I could ever work for..."
"What does he do for a living?" Zeb asked.
I sighed, knowing they would not like to known, "He's in the Royal Navy."
Isaac's jaw dropped, "The Royal Navy? You work for a loyalist? A Tory? Why, I never..."
"He's still a kind man," I said, trying to calm him down.
"He's never hurt you?" Zeb asked gravely.
"Oh no," I said seriously, "In fact, the other day he took care of me when I-" I stopped. Should I tell them about the fact that my health seemed to be failing?
"You what?" Zeb asked impatiently.
"I...I fainted," I said sheepishly.
Isaac's eyes widened. "Wait, where do you work? For some tory? You fainted at work? I hope it was just the fact that your stays were too tight! What do you even do for work?"
"I work as the maid and housekeeper for a wealthy family who pays me now 7 pennies a week. I just didn't eat much that day, so I fainted. That's all, I was fine," I said firmly.
"Liza," Zeb said sternly, "Is there something you are not telling us about work?"
What should I tell them? "Well, there was this one time I accidentally revealed that Mrs. Harold had cheated on her husband with a British officer..."
Both of the boys looked horrified.
"But that was one time. They gave me Christmas Day off. That was awfully nice of them," I put in.
"Liza," Zeb began, but I cut him off.
"So, how long until you put down the seige?" I asked.
"Shouldn't be long now," Isaac said slowly.
"And your health is good?" I asked, changing the subject again.
"Yes, I'm fine," he said quickly.
"That was a very fast answer," I observed.
"Isaac, tell her what happened," Zeb sighed.
"Nothing happened, Zeb," Isaac said, again, very quickly.
Zeb looked at me seriously, "The damned idiot decided to run 5 miles as part of a training exercise one day and his leg gave out."
I gasped, "Isaac, why would you-"
"I was fine," he put in, "Yes, the old wound reopened, but only a little. I had a quick operation, and it should be even better from now on."
"Is this true?" I asked Zeb.
"Yeah, it's true, in dumbed down detail," he muttered.
"Don't do dumb things like that, Isaac," I scolded. "If you want to last as a soldier, you can't make stupid decisions that put you at risk in just training exercises! To be perfectly honest I thought after Lexington that you would never be quite the same again..."
"Oh, girl of little faith," he scoffed.
"Oh, boy of dangerous pride!" I snapped. "I'm serious. I don't want you dead and me having no way of knowing what you are doing! That goes for you too, Zeb!"
"Hey, I at least write to you," Zeb laughed.
"And I'm thankful," I put in. I looked Isaac straight in the eyes, "You be careful."
"I will," he said with a seriousness I had never seen out of him before.
"Liza! We ought to get you home," Uncle Tad called.
"Alright! I'm coming!" I called back. "It was great seeing you boys."
"Great seeing you too," Isaac said.
"Be safe," Zeb said gravely.
"You too," I said.
The next month I received a letter from Zeb.
Dear Liza,
The army has cannons all around the city. Do not worry, we do not plan to fire on the city itself. We are in the process of driving out the British from Boston once and for all, and we are pretty damn close! I hope to see you soon once we take back the city.
-Zeb
p.s. quit your job
I was awfully glad to hear from him, but of course I was nervous for him and Isaac as well. What if the British had so many more troops and they annihilated our army, or seized the cannons back!
The morning of March 2nd I awoke to the far off booming of cannon fire. Working that day was difficult because of all the nonstop ruckus and worrying about how it could be going. The cannon fire did not stop for two days straight. I heard word from Eli that the army had moved cannons up to Dorchester heights. The British had to realize they were done now, right? Sure enough, General Howe came to his senses. On March 17, the day my family celebrates the feast of Saint Patrick, the bishop who christianized Ireland, the long hated, bothersome British troops finally evacuated my home town. Philip had told me it was happening the day before when he stopped by to bid farewell to Cordelia. Boston would be quiet from now on, but my life would not.