Chapter Text
The Dartmouth was in trouble. Lighting crashed, thunder roared, and the seas all around it raged higher and higher. Waves crashed into her, then over top her deck. The ship was tossed and turned among the waves, the storm waxed ever greater. The crew racing to and fro attempting their best to keep the ship afloat amongst the wrath of the storm. Some men ran to secure lines, others paused a moment to look up to the heavens to say a prayer to God, begging for mercy, begging to not drown. The helmsman struggled, the great wheel of the ship tightly within his grasp. He fought valiantly with all his might to steer the mighty ship through the violent storm. A bolt of lightning crashed down near the ship into the sea, bringing a grasp from the helmsman as he saw just how close his ship came to the strike. Gasps and screams could be heard all around the ship, but fierce noise from the storm drowned out all other noises down below.
Down below deck sat a young girl, sitting as best she could at her writing desk, barely able to stay still as the ship tossed and turned. The lantern hanging above her swung back and forth with the roll of the ship, swinging over her features. Her bright copper hair, her piercing green eyes, her soft cheeks and lips forming a faint smile, hiding her worry about the storm above. Around her neck hung a fancy good necklace and engraved locket, contrasting her proper but modest blue and white dress she fancied to wear so often. With feather quill in hand, she attempted her best to put ink to parchment.
Dearest Mother,
I can hardly believe it has been a fortnight since I bade you all farewell. I miss you terribly, yet my heart is also filled with delicious anticipation of the new life which awaits father and me in the colonies. I look forward to settling in Dr. Franklin's home in Philadelphia, and long to see father again, when he returns from the wilderness.
More screams could faintly be heard from above deck as the crew struggled against the storm, attempting to stop the ship from tearing itself apart.
Down below, the young girl reached down to clasp her locket in her hands, a slight frown glinting across her face for a moment, before she resumed her writing with a smile again.
I'm proud to have a brave explorer as my father. I wear his locket always. We'll all be reunited on the wonderful land he is sure to discover. I shall be true to my word and write every day.
Your loving daughter,
Sarah.
The ship continued to roll violently as Sarah held up the paper before her to read her work but failed to notice as her vial of ink slid off the table with the rocking of the ship. Ink splattered in an unfortunate direction, managing to splash all the way up to her face. She could feel the ink drip off her nose as the ship crashed forward, hitting a particularly hard wave. She was flung forward out of her seat, bracing herself against the writing table in front of her so as to not go tumbling forward throughout the ship's hold. More thunder could be heard ringing out from above, and then a great crash of timber splitting and cracking, something massive striking the deck above, sending dirt, dust, and soot showering down on her. She turned and looked up, now truly in a state panic. She could hide her fear behind the quill no longer; the Dartmouth was close to sinking in the middle of the frigid Atlantic with her onboard.
In this moment, as the ship rolled and crashed through the waves, she crawled on her hands and knees as best as she could towards some ropes tied to one corner of the hold. When she reached them, she grasped them for dear life and retreated within herself. "Mother, why? Why did you have to send me away on this trip?" More screams were heard above deck, more cracking of ropes and timber mixed with nature's fury from the clouds above. "Why couldn't we go together? If Father loved us, why have we not heard from him in so long? How am I supposed to do this alone?"
As the storm continued to rage, she could hear shouting and panic from above, which gave way to a confident shout, then a cheer as the crew managed to secure much of their necessary cargo and rigging from the mighty storm. The waves no longer seemed to increase, though they continued to beat relentlessly; perhaps they had reached the peak of the storm's fury. Sarah only buried her face into her sleeve, a single tear escaping her eye, "Why does this have to be me? Am I the only one who can bring my family back together? I don't want to end up like…I don't…" She could not help as a small sob escaped her, the weight of rain above mixed with her great responsibility being too much to bear. "I have no choice. If I want to have my parents together…if I want a normal childhood, it's my responsibility to bring them back together. I must not fail." Sarah wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then gripped the ropes even tighter, this time not out of fear, but utter determination.
Among the snowy rooftops of Philadelphia, the crunch of horse hooves along the white roads could be heard for many blocks. A carriage wheeled past the Pennsylvania Gazette, the tired driver sitting up straight when he heard a yell coming from inside the building. He quickly relaxed again and shrugged, "That Hiller boy again…" he thought.
"Moses! Moses, Help!" James yelled, "Moses, hurry!" James tugged at the bottom of his shirt, stuck fast inside the clamped printing press.
Moses leaned over to the helpless young boy and sighed, "Not again James..."
"M'fraid so Moses, help me, this is my last clean shirt!" James pulled harder, and Moses fought to pull the lever of the press back open. With one more hard tug, the press released his shirt, and he yelped as he went flying back into a shelf, toppling several nearby papers. "Heh, much obliged…" James stated sheepishly as Moses walked over to help him to his feet.
"Doctor Franklin has warned you about standing to close to the press while I'm working on it." Moses was correcting him but couldn't help as faint smile crept to his face at James' plight. "Look at yourself!" He pointed to the bottom of James' shirt, which was now printed with half of the days newspaper.
"Fantastic!" James could not help but try to prove his usefulness, "When someone wants to know what's on my shirt, I can sell them a newspaper!"
"We are paid to print the paper, not wear it…" Moses again could not help but smirk and shake his head.
"I don't just print the paper, I'm a journalist!" James boldly proclaimed.
Moses knew how sensitive James was about this, and how much he wanted this profession in the future, but as the acting adult around the shop, he had to lay down the law, "You're an apprentice journalist."
"True, but someday I'm gonna get the big story, then Doctor Franklin will make me a full-fledged journalist!" He knew Moses was right, but he could not help but make his intentions known yet again.
As Moses again pulled the lever of the press back down, a call rang out from outside, "James! Moses! A letter!" The young French boy and store helper Henri burst through the front door of the shop, "It's from Doctor Franklin in London!" He held up an envelope with an unbroken red seal.
"Give me that Henri", James swiped for the letter, but Henri was too quick and pulled away.
"It's addressed to Moses…you look like James." Henri stated smugly with a great smile. Moses strode over and took the letter from Henri outstretched arm, opened it, and began to read.
"And you look like someone who's dessert I'm gonna eat tonight!" James threatened playfully.
"Lads, drop everything! Sarah Phillips isn't coming to Philadelphia!" Moses looked over to James, knowing what was likely to transpire next.
James had made it no secret of his displeasure of the potential young girl coming to stay with him in his place of work. "Good. I never understood why she had to stay here anyway." He stated coldly. He held back, his own thoughts being even colder still "A British noble girl here in the shop would be awful, all the rules, getting in the way. Good riddance, I'm glad see isn't coming."
Moses didn't have time to glare at James for his remark, there was no time to waste, "Fetch your coats, we are going to meet her at the ship."
Now James was properly confused, "I thought you just said she isn't coming to Philadelphia?"
Moses hoisted his dark green coat around his broad shoulders, "She's not. Doctor Franklin says Miss Phillips couldn't make passage aboard the Dover, she's aboard the Dartmouth, and the Dartmouth is heading for Boston.
James' head was sent through whiplash, "Boston? That's in Massachusetts Bay colony!"
"And there's been trouble up there lately. We have to hurry!" Moses had hoped this urgency would silence James and his rather bold and naïve views. "She's all alone, come on!"
James could only sigh, his arms out wide in frustration. Moses and Henri hustled out the door. "Really, she is coming after all. This is going to be terrible for business with a little girl getting in the way all the time!" His disgust turned to a faint smirk as he followed his co-workers out the door, "Perhaps Doctor Franklin will see my worth if I 'rescue' the poor helpless girl. Still, I just want to be a journalist, nothing more. A girl is just going to get in the way."
Caeser clomped along the dark streets, pulling the cart with Moses, James, and Henri in it. "So, this is Boston? It's smaller than I thought…" James pondered.
"Ooh my joints are aching from these rotten roads." Henri complained, rubbing his sore backside.
"The axle is bent; it'll have be repaired before we head back. The ride home will smoother…" Moses mused calmly.
"Good! Otherwise I'd rather walk home!" Henri declared confidently.
James could not help but shake his head slightly at his younger co-worker. Though he was not fond of it, he was here on a mission at the behest of Doctor Franklin, and he was determined not to let him down. "How are going to find Miss Phillips? We don't even know what she looks like?"
"She sailed on the Dartmouth; that's a good place to start!" Moses said it so confidently, but James could not help but sulk a little.
"Yeah, bout as easy as finding a needle in a haystack. I can't believe Doctor Franklin would be willing to house and English girl after all Parliament and the King have done to oppress us. Still, if it gets me closer to being a journalist, then I'll do it. Once we find her, all she needs to do is keep her head down, stay out of my way, and maybe we can have her in and out of the shop in just a couple weeks…" James really had no idea what he was in for.
Sarah Phillips stood aboard the deck of the Dartmouth. The ship had been docked for quite some time now, but her escorts that were to come from Doctor Franklin's shop had not yet arrived. She figured staying on the ship until they arrived was the safest option, being in an unknown town in a faraway land all alone. "Mother, why did I have to come alone. You could have come with me; this is so frightening all alone here at night."
Her bright red copper hair flowed in the stiff night breeze. It was cold on deck, but she needed some fresh air, the smell of land after the long journey across the ocean was beyond welcome. Her green eyes peered into the night to the shoreline, the lantern above her swaying in the wind. She could make out several figures hiding and moving behind crates on the docks.
"The Dartmouth! Let's burn it!"
She could hear them from ship as they scurried away. She clutched her locket around her neck and steadied herself against one of the ships ropes. Now Sarah knew she was in trouble; she was more worried than ever. She needed to get off the ship, and fast.
James grunted as the rough wagon rode through the night streets of Boston continued. "I am not going any further without that new axle." He thought.
"Can we not go over every…ugh! Hey, Moses!" Moses turned and shushed him; a commotion was erupting down the street from them. Several men sporting feathers and axes came running through the street, passing in front of them.
They all ducked down and let them pass until Henri piped up fearfully, "Indians! James, Moses, Mohawk Indians!"
Moses peeked up to get a good glance at the last man running off into the darkness, "Mohawk, with yellow hair?"
James could smell something was afoot, his journalist senses were alive with action, "There's a story here, let's see where they lead us!"
Moses agreed, and he cracked the reigns as Caeser dragged the cart through the town. They followed the men all the way to the docks. They watched from a distance as the men, still sticking to the shadows, commandeered several rowboats and began to make their way out into the bay.
Moses, James, and Henri all jumped off the cart and ran to the shoreline. Moses peered out after them, quickly surmising they were all heading for the same ship. "They're headed for the Dartmouth. We've got to find Miss Phillips, fast!"
They all took off together, running towards another moored rowboat, "Oh sod Miss Phillips," James thought, "This could be my chance to get a truly captivating story, one that could impress Doctor Franklin and show him my worth as a journalist!"
They rowed out towards the ship, many men already shouting and cheering aboard, throwing boxes and crates off the ship. As they rowed closer, they almost had to dodge the cargo as it came crashing down around them. James could wait no longer and stood up, "You get Miss Phillips, I'm going to get this story!" In a flash he leapt across some parked boats and scrambled up the side of the ship.
James could hear one of the men shout, "Just the tea men, remember, we are not to damage anything else, we just after the tea!"
James hoisted himself over the side of the ship and ran up to the man. "Why are you destroying the tea?"
The man quickly snapped his attention to him and replied sharply, "We're protesting unfair taxation. Parliament raised the tea tax over our objections! Maybe next time they'll listen!"
Henri had also climbed aboard. After quickly surveying the scene, he joined in on the frenzy, shouting over the rail, "No taxation without representation!"
James whirled around and grabbed his shoulder, "Do you know what that means?"
"Nope. I heard the others say it." Henri smiled devilishly. Everyone knew the poor boy just wanted to be a part of whatever was happening.
"We've stumbled into the story of a lifetime! I'm going below deck to see what's happening! Stay out of trouble…" James turned and fled towards the hold of the ship.
"Take that parliament!" He could hear Henri shout behind him. James could only shake his head with a smirk.
"We'll make a patriot out of Henri yet!" James grabbled the rope leading down the stairs. Above he could hear Moses calling out for Miss Phillips, something inside him thought to help at first, "No this is about the story, it's more important." He reached up and fumbled with the candle hanging on the wall, taking it with him as he descended into the bowels of the ship. He reached the hold, and looked around, spying nothing unusual down there. He was about to turn around and head back up to the deck when he suddenly struck right across the face.
"Take that!" A feminine voice called out as James fell flat on his back in a daze. He slowly forced himself back up to sit.
"What hit me?" He groaned in pain, grabbing at his throbbing head.
"You'll never take me alive!" A girl ran up to him holding a pillowcase.
James looked up to see the girl standing over him. Had this not been such a dire situation, or at least his head not aching from the impact, he might have thought her cute, or at least the situation amusing, "Take you? Where?"
"Wherever Indians take people." She stated all high and mighty, knowing that she had at least succeeded in stunning her opponent.
James hauled himself to his feet, "I'm not no Indian. None of us are."
The girl turned her nose up at him slightly before correcting him, "You're not an Indian. Who taught you grammar?"
She moved her hands to her hips, and James could almost imagine she was tapping her foot in dissatisfaction under her dress. "Who taught you how to whack people upside the head?"
She reached down into the torn pillowcase and produced a hefty book, "My apologies, I thought you were here to kidnap me."
"Kidnap…" James was still rubbing the back of his head, "I'm a journalist for the Pennsylvania Gazette, now what do you have to say about the tax protest?"
She scoffed at him, "Is that what this is about? Disgraceful…the tea is private property. This is so uncivilized."
James could only roll his eyes, "Boy, this girl is a real piece of work…"
"If you were any kind of Englishman, you would drop that pencil and put a stop to it."
James fired back quickly, "So you think its ok to impose taxes on the colonies, even though the colonies don't have a vote in parliament?"
"I think loyal subjects of the King should obey the laws of their country", she fired right back at him with the same tenacity, "and you can quote me on that, mister…what is your name?"
"Ugh, she is the worst. Still, this has to be good for the papers, I do need a good face to slander, not just the King." James stood up straight as he announced himself, "Hiller, James Hiller. And who would I be quoting?"
"Whom may I be quoting. If you're going to write for a newspaper you really should treat words with more care." She huffed, unamused.
James could only sigh in frustration, "Just tell me your name, will you?" he fumbled in his vest for his pencil. "I have work to do…" James did not at this care one bit how annoyed he sounded.
"Phillips, Miss Sarah Phillips of London England." She stated, turning her back on him, clearly upset with how such a low status and untrained individual was pestering her amongst an attack.
James began to spell out her name on his notes, before suddenly realizing this was the girl they were looking for. He nearly dropped him pencil and paper in shock, "Sarah Phillips? You're Sarah Phillips?!" Sarah only turned her head to look back at him inquisitively. "I can't believe you're Sarah Phillips!"
"I am, and I'll thank you to stop shouting Mr. Hiller. I've had very rude welcome to America, and you're not making things any better." Sarah could not believe this boy was still here annoying him, "Uncultured boys just never know when to quit. When will this low life just leave already…"
James suddenly perked up, "We've been looking for you!" Maybe he could complete both of his missions. A massive story, and a rescued English damsel for Doctor Franklin, perfect for him to move up the ladder quicker.
Sarah now looked quite baffled, "Have you? And why is that?"
James now knew he hand the element of surprise on her, "Benjamin Franklin sent us!"
Sarah was flabbergasted, "Doctor Franklin sent YOU?"
"Now who's yelling." James smirked. Commotion was heard above, so James had to get serious. He could see the look in her eyes; she did not believe him one bit. She reached down to fuddle with her locket before he got exasperated, "Look, it is not a mistake…"
Henri and Moses suddenly clattered down the steps to the hold. Moses stuck his head through the doorway, "James, come on, the redcoats are on their way!"
James gasped. He had to act, and to complete both his missions, he did the only thing he could think to do. "Come on!" He shouted at Sarah, grabbing her arm tightly.
"Unhand me!" Sarah twisted her arm right out of his grasp, determined not to be bullied by him.
She marched towards the door but realized that large imposing black man stood in her way and had turned his attention to her. Fear leapt to her throat, a young boy she might be able to handle, but a man such as this, not a chance.
Moses leaned in, "Miss Phillips I presume? Thank goodness we found you!"
Sarah was relieved, he sounded more like a gentleman than this James Hiller boy. Perhaps she would have listened to more reason, but James was already behind her again with his hand on her shoulder.
"If we're caught by those soldiers, we'll be thrown in jail!" James panicked.
Sarah didn't know what else to do, she went on offense, "Which in my opinion, is exactly where traitors belong!"
James shook his head; he was running out of options. "Sorry Miss Phillips," he grabbed both her arms this time, "I can't print my story from jail."
"Let me go!" She screamed. She tried to wrench away from him again, but this time it was no use. James all but dragged her up the steps up onto the deck, following Henri and Moses. They all gasped as they could see the men fleeing and jumping over the sides of the ship. The King's soldiers came rushing towards them, and so they bolted for the ramp to the shore. "I said let me go!" She shouted at James again, still fighting to escape him.
"I'd love to, but Doctor Franklin told us to take care of you!" There was no time for him to mention all the other real reasons why he wanted to get off the ship, with her in tow.
"James, look out!" A shout rang out from Moses.
James turned to see a British soldier rushing him and Sarah. He quickly put his lanky arm out against the man's shoulder, stopping his charge, then swept a leg behind the man's ankle, tripping him backwards. The soldier reached out, just barely grasping Sarah's locket, breaking it from her neck as he fell on his back.
Now Sarah realized she might be considered complicit, and when James turned to run down the plank, she immediately followed. The soldier scrambled to his feet and rushed to the side of the ship and leaned out over the side while grasping a rope. "Halt! That's an order! I'll get you for this!" Suddenly the rope he was holding snapped, sending him tumbling down into the harbor below. He resurfaced, continued to bark orders to his men, shouting for the escaping duo of James and Sarah to stop. In the process, he loosed his grip on Sarah's locket, and it drifted slowly down, sinking out of sight, to be lost to the waters of Boston forever.
Sarah raced ahead of James, and upon spying Moses, ducked behind some barrels with him and Henri. James was running so fast that Moses had to reach out and grab him and pull him behind the barrels with them. After asking if everyone was ok, Sarah had her first moment to think.
"What am I doing? I can't be complicit in this. This is wrong!" She boldly stood up and strode forward into the open again. She opened her mouth to shout "Hel…mmmph" A hand clasped around her mouth silencing her.
"Are you crazy? Do you want the British to catch us?" She twisted around to find it was James again.
"Ugh, if I had known it was that filthy boy I would have…" Sarah twisted free from him again, "I AM British. We're all British!"
Moses walked up and quickly tried to be the voice of reason, "Right now, those soldiers think we're criminals." Sarah's heart sunk. He was right. She could be arrested for helping these traitors, and as much as she was loyal, she also had her own mission here in the colonies, and she was not going to let that end in some prison cell.
James protested, "Criminals? What did we do wrong?"
Moses was all but pleading for them to get out of the open, "We were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. The wagon's over there, let's go!"
They all began to run towards the wagon. Sarah felt as if she was in trouble for what she was doing, but logic dictated she fled lest she was captured and wrongly accused. So Sarah followed them, not having the slightest idea that a new future was just beginning for her.
They rode the wagon quietly further through town, trying to put distance between them and the docks. The bent axle warped further, making the ride unbearable. Moses held the reigns, while the other three sat down low, half hid beneath a blanket in the wagon. "Keep down! The redcoats will recognize you three, but I'll just be another faceless servant."
Sarah couldn't stand it, how could these colonist, these fellow British subjects not support her on this. "Even if you don't like the laws, you can't just ignore them. That will lead to chaos." She looked smug, "Surely they can't argue with that"
Not to be outdone, James immediately retorted, "But what if the law is unjust?"
"Parliament would never pass an unjust law." In Sarah's mind, this was simply a fact.
James quickly produced a parchment, "But they have! I interviewed the men tonight. The colonies must pay taxes to the King, but we have no voice in parliament, does that sound fair to you?"
"I don't know what to think…" Sarah could not believe her own words. She had answered honestly in the moment, but she knew better, that was not what was expected of a British subject. She had save face quickly, "I only know that Ben Franklin would hardly approve of what went on tonight!"
"Then you don't know Ben Franklin!" James snorted at her.
"Quick, get down! The constable, be still, or it's jail for us all." Moses hissed at them.
The three of them ducked under the blanket. As Moses bluffed his way through the checkpoint, James could only think, "Darn this Miss Phillips, an English loyalist, she'll get us all killed! I bet she'd like nothing better than to turn us in right now."
In truth, Sarah was having her own thoughts, "This boy Mr. Hiller, he has no respect for the crown! How could all these British subjects behave this way…" as the constable walked to the back of the wagon and considered to look under the blanket, a twinge of fear again crept into her throat, "What if they catch me? Oh, something here isn't right…why Mother did you send me to this horrible place? I bet this Mr. Hiller would like nothing better than to turn me over to jail right now for standing with the King if he could."
To the relief of all the constable relented his search before discovering them and allowed Moses to pass on down the street. They had made it.
Moses brought them to the Wheatley residence, and introduced the group to Mrs. Wheatley, a local slave and famed poet. As the conversation continued, Sarah voiced her displeasure with the practice of slavery, and for once James could not argue, "At least we agree on something…"
After a few tense moments, they were directed to a barn behind the Wheatley's house where they would bed down for the night. Moses quickly realized they were not going anywhere without a brand-new axle for the cart. There after ensued a long discussion about the rights of man, of slavery, and how Moses was kidnapped himself to come to America as slave. Sarah could not help but question his resolve to help other Americans who enslaved many of his people, but Moses was firm. Despite for fighting for the rights of all men, he also wanted to see America not suffer at the hands of a master they did not chose.
"It's very late, we should get some sleep," Moses finally surmised. James and Henri made their way towards the ladder to the hay loft, while Sarah chose to sleep down in the bed of hay on the ground floor. As James passed by, she thought to at least be cordial, and gave him a long slow wave goodnight. James saw this as he climbed the ladder but did not acknowledge it.
James lay down next to Henri, knowing the French boy would be asleep within minutes. He could not help but think to himself, "What is the Miss Phillips trying to prove? The King is not just, Parliament is corrupt, she's so…so…ugh. Then after all that, all that fighting and arguing, she has the audacity to wave goodnight like we are suddenly and magically friends? I cannot wait until she finds her father and moves on already."
Likewise Sarah lay in her bed of hay, recounting the day's events, "These colonists are so uncivilized. Slavery, robbery, one could consider they kidnapped me even! Oh don't think that; these are after all Doctor Franklin's associates who are being paid to escort me, I should be thankful for that. But this boy, this Mr. Hiller. What an unpleasant fellow, he was so coarse and curt with words, so brash and bold about supporting treason. Plus he wouldn't even accept my common curtesy of a wave good night. He must truly hate me."
Sarah sighed, trying to shift her mind to something else. She began rehearsing her next letter she planned to write to her father, "Father, I pray you are safe, I pray you will return from the west so we can be a family again…" She instinctively reached to her neck for her father's locket, and her spine went cold when she could not feel it there. "My locket! It's gone…" She nearly shouted. She tried to muffled her shock, so as to not wake all those who slept nearby, but it truly was a shot though her heart. Sarah had not heard from her father in many months, and this was all she had left of him. She buried her face in her hands and tried desperately not to cry, if only for the sake of the other's sleep.
They were trapped in Boston for weeks, the city blockaded, and the nights continued to be the hardest for Sarah, with no family there to comfort her in a strange land, surrounded by strange men. The loss of her Father's locket hurt deeply, often she would find herself reaching for it, only to find nothing hanging along her neckline. It was also very uncomfortable for her to be sleeping on a hay pile in a barn. She had seldom left the comforts of her wealthy family's estate in London, so to now spend night after night, week after week sleeping and hiding in a barn felt almost cruel to her. Still, she could not deny the situation was unusual, and she kept her mind focused on her task. If she could get out of Boston, then she could find her Father, and reunite her family.
One cold night, she could not sleep at all. She decided to steal away, out the barn doors and off into the night. The British patrols had eased slightly the past week or so, and she could always tell the soldiers her father was a British officer in order to get out of trouble. As she slunk her way through the town, staying within a couple blocks of the barn for safety, she took deep breaths of the cold fresh night air. A chill ran down her spine as she noticed a shadow across the street in the form of a man, clearly also sticking to the edges and corners of buildings so as to not be seen. Her heart jumped into her throat in fear, but the fear quickly subsided when she realized she recognized the outline of the man.
"James. James is that you?" She whispered across the street.
The figure jumped at first, then looked right and left down the empty street before silently racing across the street to her. "Sarah? What in heavens are you doing out here?'
"I could ask you the same question." She huffed at him.
"I couldn't sleep. The barn reminded me of when…never mind…" his voice trailed off. "I take it you couldn't sleep either?"
"Yes. It's just all so different from London."
James was quiet for a moment before speaking, "Come with me, I have a place we can get out of the street." He did not reach for her arm as he had on the ship many nights ago but did beckon her to follow. Against her better judgment she obliged. James stealthily moved down the street one more block before turning and presenting a church steeple down the road. Sarah was certainly curious.
As they neared the entrance of the church she spoke softly, "This is a lovely church."
"They call it The Old North Church. Come, there's a side door here that we can get in through." He opened the unlocked side door, swinging it open gently so as to prevent it from squeaking too much and drawing attention to them. Sarah followed as he led them inside, then towards the stairs that ran up the steeple. "Ladies first!" He offered with a smile.
When they had finished climbing to the top, they stood with a view of all of Boston. "How did you know about this place?" Sarah questioned. A British patrol could be heard marching by, both of them instinctively ducking down as it moved past.
James more hushed now spoke up, "I've been doing some wandering and exploring almost every night. I hope I didn't wake you."
"Not at all, I had no idea you were leaving at night. I just couldn't sleep."
After the patrol had moved on, they stood there in the nighttime silence, drinking in the view of a sleepy Boston. After several minutes, Sarah began to yawn, and James took notice. "Perhaps it is time we returned to the barn where we can sleep. It is getting late after all."
Sarah nodded, her itch for fresh air on this cold night fully satisfied. Together they snuck back to the barn without a word between them and split off to their respective sleeping areas. Within minutes, all stirring in barn had ceased.