TW10 The Hellfire Rebellion NEW (9 page)

"Yes, by all means, let us applaud that man, whoever he may be." Drakov concurred. “But, gentlemen, before we drink our toast, let us consider that we might well profit from that unknown man's example.

"Indeed?" said Brown. "How so?"

"Consider the Sons of Liberty, gentlemen," said Drakov. "Who are they? What are they? Men much like ourselves, no more, no less. And yet, day by day, it appears that more and more, the city falls under their grip. And why, I ask you?

Because they arc better men than we?"

"No, by God!" said Brown.

“Indeed, no, they are not," said Drakov. "And yet what makes them so different from ourselves that they seem to have such power? What. precisely,
is
their power, gentlemen? That, with the exception of a very few, their members are not known."

"But we all know who they are," protested Brown.

"Do we?" Drakov asked. "How many of them can you name? Six? Eight? Ten, perhaps? Fifteen or twenty. at best? Yet when they stage their demonstrations, how many of them are there? Forty, fifty, sixty or more? When they come to threaten people in the night, are not many of them masked, or their faces blackened with burnt cork?"

"Yes, that's true enough." one of the tax commissioners said. "I can readily attest to that."

"Their power. Then," said Drakov. “seems to lie in the fact that they accomplish much of what they do by stealth. By being unknown, by heaving stones through windows in the night and such. And now, it seems, a loyal subject of King George has given them a taste of their own medicine, paid them back in their own coin." He raised his eyebrows and looked around at them. "Can we not learn from his example, gentlemen?"

John Hewitt smiled. "A wise man can always profit by the good example of another." he said. "I wonder who our 'headless horseman' is. And I wonder if he will ride again soon?"

"I should not be in the least surprised." said Moffat.

"In the meantime," Drakov said, "perhaps his fellow loyal subjects of King George should discuss how best to give the horseman our support?"

"What do you propose, Nicholas?" said Brown.

"Gentlemen," said Drakov, picking up his glass of wine, "the Sons of Liberty are bent upon visiting their deviltry upon us. They give us deviltry, 1 say we rebel against it and pay them back with hellfire!"

"Hear, hear!"

"Well said! Well said!"

"Gentlemen," said Drakov, rising to his feet with upraised glass. "I give you the headless horseman! And all those with the courage to ride along beside him!"

"I'll drink to that!"

"And so will I. by God!"

"Me, too!"

"Your glasses, gentlemen! Raise up your glasses!"

“To the headless horseman!" Moffat said. "Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!"

They all joined in the toast and drank.

"To the headless horseman! Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!"

"I wonder." Moffat said, as if musing to himself, "does anyone among us stable a black stallion?"

They all started glancing at one another.

"John, don't you have a black stallion in your stable?" Moffat asked.

"What,
me
? The headless horseman?" Hewitt said, with a snort. "Not I. It's true. I have a black horse in my stable, but it is an old mare. A walking country horse. Hardly the sort of mount for clattering about the streets of Boston in the middle of the night!"

"Stoddard has a black horse!" someone cried. "And it's a stallion, too!"

"No, no, my stallion is a bay!" Stoddard protested.

"Perhaps it was a bay they saw that night!"

"No. it was black, they said, like jet."

"Gentlemen. gentlemen!‘" said Drakov. raising his arms to get their attention. He waited till they'd settled down. "What does it profit us to speculate upon who this man might he?"

"Do you happen to own a black stallion. Mr. Dark?" said someone in the crowd.

"As it happens. I do not own any horses whatsoever," Drakov said. "And these gentlemen can tell you. I had not yet arrived in Boston when the headless horseman first made his appearance. so I think that we can all safely assume I am not he."

"Yes, that's quite true," said Hewitt. "Nicholas has only just arrived in the colonies. He does not even have a place to call his own yet."

"Quite so, gentlemen," said Drakov. "But my point is simply this. Our mysterious horseman may be among us even now, for all we know, or he might be dining at this very moment in some other part of town, altogether unaware of our interest in him. In either event, what difference does it make? He serves all our interests best by being unknown. Remember that if we cannot discern his true identity, then neither can the Sons of Liberty.

"Your point is well taken. Dark." said Brown. "But then how may we let him know that there are those among us ready and willing to lend him our support?"

"Well, our horseman is clearly a Tory, that much we know," said Drakov. "And we all know who our fellow Tories are, do we not? I say we spread the word among all of our friends. That way, whoever he may be, the word must surely reach him.

Let it be known that there are those among us who stand ready to oppose the lawlessness of Samuel Adams and his mob. And if the horseman wants our help, then surely a man of his resources must find a way to tell us."

"You think he will respond?" said Hewitt.

"We can only wait and sec." said Drakov. "But if our headless horseman is the man of action he appears to be. then I think we may be hearing from him soon."

Benjamin Hallowell was not the sort of man who was easily intimidated and he had very little sympathy for the grievances of Boston's radicals, especially after the Sons of Liberty attacked his home. He did not care for Boston. He much preferred the civility of London, but the new regulations had required him to personally assume his post as a collector of customs duties in the colonies.

In the past, it had been the practice for men appointed to his office to remain in England and appoint people in the colonies to act in their place, as their deputies, but the ministry had put a stop to that. The colonists were all too often sympathetic to the smugglers and the colonial deputies had often looked the other way, accepting bribes from merchants and their captains to ignore the smuggled goods. Hallowell was an ambitious man and he did not intend to settle down in Massachusetts. He meant to impress his superiors in England with the efficient way that he performed his duties and to use his post in Boston as a step up the ladder to further his career in government service.

For a long time, he had been waiting for the opportunity to make an example of one man in particular, a man who was notorious for his flagrant disregard of the Acts of Trade and Navigation, and now, thanks to the recent arrival in port of the
Romney
and the
Lawrence
, it seemed the moment had arrived to teach the haughty John Hancock a lesson that was a long time overdue. Hallowell listened grim-faced as his chief collector, Joseph Harrison, made his report.

"From the moment that I saw the
Liberty
pull into the wharf," said Harrison,

"I suspected that her holds were loaded full of smuggled goods. She rode low in the water, far too low to account for what was on her manifest." Harrison snorted.

"When I boarded her for my inspection, the captain claimed that the ship's entire cargo consisted of twenty-live pipes of Madeira. And yet any fool could see the ship was loaded to capacity!"

"So you insisted on making a personal inspection, of course,” said Hallowell.

"Yes, and no sooner had I done so than they offered me a bribe!” said Harrison. He drew himself up stiffly. "I refused, of course.”

"Of course," said Hallowell. "What happened then?"

"They bullied me," said Harrison, his tone almost that of a small boy who had been picked on by his elders. "The ship's crew gathered around and threatened me, tried to make me take the bribe, but when I still refused, they seized me--

actually seized me!---and dragged me down below decks, where they locked me up in one of the cabins! I pounded on the door, hut they only laughed at me and said that I should cool my heels for a while and think things over. For three hours or more they left me there, heedless of my protests, until the sun went down! And then I heard the ship being unloaded. And they unloaded than more than twenty-five pipes of wine, I can tell you that, sir! Afterward, when they were done with the unloading, they let me out and made out as if it had all been some mistake! They even had the barefaced effrontery to suggest that I had locked myself inside the cabin! The brass! The very brass of them! And now, even as we speak, they're loading up the ship again and making ready to leave port, doubtless with more contraband bound for the Indies, and of what use is it to demand to see the contents of their hold? They will do the same thing once again, or worse!"

"No, they most certainly will not." said Hallowell, grimly. "Hancock has gone too far this time. I will not have my customs collectors bullied about, no, sir! John Hancock might well be the richest man in Boston, but that does not put him above the law!"

"But what can we do?" asked Harrison.

"We can hit him where it hurts him most, Joseph. In his pocketbook. I intend to seize his ship."

"His crew will never stand for that, sir! They are a rough lot, indeed. I tell you, it would be as much as worth my life to serve seizure papers on them, sir. I have a family to think of . . ."

"Calm yourself, Joseph." Hallowell said. "I would not send you alone to risk such treatment once again. I will request Capt. Corner of the His Majesty's Ship
Romney
to provide us with an armed escort. After that incident with the press gang, I'll warrant those men are itching to get back some of their own. We will wait until the ship is fully loaded and then, my friend, we shall seize her, complete with all her cargo, and have her towed under the
Romney's
guns, least they should try to board the ship at night and sail it away. I will teach Hancock's ruffians to harass one of my men, by God! I'll not suffer their insolence one moment longer! Here, have this message delivered to the
Romney's
captain. And here are your seizure papers. As of this moment, the
Liberty
and all her cargo are the property of His Majesty, the King!"

The
Liberty
lay fully loaded at the dock and awaiting the next tide when the longboats from the
Romney
pulled up to the wharf. The same officer who had led the press gang was in command and this time, he moved quickly, before the crowd had time to gather. In the company of Ben Hallowell, Thomas Irving, the inspector of imports, Joseph Harrison and his eldest son, Richard, who was a customs clerk, the officer marched his men up on the liberty's deck and served the ship's captain with the seizure papers.

"Sir, you are charged with violation of the Acts of Trade and Navigation and henceforth, this ship and all her cargo are forfeit to His Majesty, the King,” said Hallowell.

"The hell it is." the captain said.

At a signal from the officer, one of the
Romney's
men knocked him to the deck with the butt end of his musket. Several of the crew started forward angrily.

but stopped when they found themselves staring down the barrels of muskets loaded with grape shot. “All right, you scurvy, smuggling lot.” the officer said firmly.

"Face right about and down the gangplank with you, every man jack of you! Move sharply, now! First man who hesitates, I'll have his guts for garters! Move!"

Sullenly, the
Liberty's
crew marched down the gangplank. The word had already been spread along the docks and an angry crowd was quickly forming The men from the
Romney
wasted no time in running lines out to the longboats for the
Liberty
to be towed out into the harbor, close beneath the
Romney's
guns.

"Well done, sir." said Hallowell to the ship's officer. "My compliments to Capt. Corner."

"I will convey them, sir," the officer said. "And now, with your permission, we'd best get on about our business. That crowd yonder on the dock has an ugly look about it. I would not linger overlong if I were you."

"No need to worry." Hallowell said smugly. "They may stand there and jeer till dawn for all the good it does them, damn their eyes for their impudence!

Come, gentlemen. we've done our duty."

No sooner had they stepped off the gangplank than the first stone came sailing out from the crowd. The
Romney's
men made haste to pull the gangplank in and the rowers hurriedly bent to their task. Slowly, ponderously, the sloop began to move as the men in the longboats strained at their oars to tow the ship out into the harbor. The men still aboard the
Liberty
took shelter as they were pelted with a rain of rocks and bricks from the angry crowd. Ben Hallowell watched smugly as the Liberty was slowly towed away from the dock.

"Take that. John bloody Hancock!" he said.

“Ben," said Irving, pulling at his sleeve. They turned and found their way blocked by the crowd. The crew of the
Liberty
were among them. Some of the men were holding clubs. Hallowell looked around nervously, but time was nowhere for them to go.

"Let us pass." said Hallowell.

Nobody moved.

Hallowell swallowed nervously.

“Let us pass. I said!"

“Get the bloody bastard!” someone shouted.

The crowd surged forward. Irving tried to draw his sword, but it was snatched from him and broken. He went down beneath a flurry of swinging fists. A club snuck Hallowell's head and he crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from his forehead.

“Run. Dick!" Harrison shouted to his son.

In an instant, the mob was upon them and Harrison cried out as a club glanced off his shoulder, he lashed out wildly and felt his fist connect with someone's face. He felt hands clutching at his coat and another club struck him in the hack. Someone punched him in the face and blood spurted from his nose. He heard his son cry out behind him. They had knocked him down and several men were kicking him, then they grabbed him by his hair and dragged him screaming through the street. As more blows rained down upon him, something in Harrison broke and with a keening sound, like some wild animal, he thrashed and shoved his way through the press of men as hands and clubs struck out at him. He stumbled, but regained his balance, and then, miraculously, he was in the clear and running down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.