The Revolution

2|Gibb's Wharf

June 1, 1774

The shock that came with the Coercive Acts, labeled the "Intolerable Acts" by the colonists, rocked the city and spread like wildfire. People's tempers flared as well as remained neutral. Many people with sentiments for the crown believed it was what was necessary to quench the radicals residing in Boston.

I, however, was not among those with royal sentiments, and I did my best not outright combust while I hung the wash to dry, practically muttering to myself like an old hag

Boston harbor was closed, no trade or commerce was permitted into the city.

Unfathomable.

Freely called town meetings and elected officials were now illegal, and the royal, king appointed, governor had even more unchecked power. In the event of a jury trial the location could be moved to Great Britain or a British colony. British officials were immune to criminal prosecution in Massachusetts. Colonists were required to house British troops on demand, including their private quarters if necessary.

I had always been strongly unhappy with Parliament and the Crown, but I was now livid. These acts were revealing Great Britain's true colors, colors that I refused to be compliant with.

After the proclamation had been announced, I led Oliver home in silence, the announcement shaking me to the bone.

Despite the circumstances, we caught up with each other jovially when we reached home. We laughed and talked as if there was no King or Parliament bearing over our shoulders. After a good while, Daniel and Uncle Henry caught Oliver up on what was happening in Boston politically, and I begrudgingly left to do the wash.

Not even the King or Parliament could cease the screaming need of the chores that would have to be completed by day's end.

My thoughts trailed back to the slip of paper from the street urchin as I hung up a white sheet on the clothesline. It had to have been a mistake, as there could be no other reason why someone would need to meet me at Gibbs Wharf in such a manner. There was a small possibility that it was from the Committee, but I didn't know if it was worth risk.

There was a high possibility that it was someone wishing to do harm.

I could just contact Dr. Warren directly, I thought to myself, Even if it wasn't the Committee, he would know what to do.

Knowing my male counterparts wouldn't let me out alone with four regiments of soldiers sauntering about, I slipped past the house without announcing my departure.

To make myself look less like a target I walked with purpose, keeping my back straight and head held high. As I walked deeper into Boston, more and more soldiers could be seen walking about. Many would tip their hats out of respect, and I would respond with a nod, but most ignored me, which I thanked the Heavens for.

I reached Dr. Warren's when the sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow on the bustling street. With Dr. Warren being one of the most prestigious physicians in Boston, he owned a neat office in the heart of the city. I opened the door, the tinkling of a bell announcing my arrival.

"Ah, Eden," Dr. Warren looked up from the stacks of paper he was writing on at his desk. "How good of you to visit," He stood, coming to greet me. He glanced around his empty office, "Did you get Mr. Otis's documents out of the city?" He asked in hushed tone.

I nodded, "Right after midnight."

"Good, good, good," He turned, grabbing a piece of parchment and writing on it furiously, mumbling to himself, "I due hope Pennsylvania listens to what Otis has to say, because they're the only Colony, besides North Carolina , who doesn't have an established network of Committees of Correspondence."