Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
Benjamin’s vision pitched and wavered along with the treacherous swing, the noose catching his fall so jarringly that he almost lost consciousness. He heard a scream—Clara?—and kicking his legs, he gritted his teeth while searching with his feet for land.
Amidst the crowd, a familiar figure materialized and he halted, the fight in him draining once a pair of bright, mischievous brown eyes and a crooked grin greeted him amidst the jeering spectators.
All at once, tears swam across his vision and Benjamin trembled, bright spots of light dotting his peripheral as he met Daniel’s gaze.
“I’m…sorry,” he rasped. He was. By God, he was!
Nearly every night, Benjamin prayed his brother would somehow know how deeply he was mourned, his counsel yearned for, his companionship missed; and above all, he prayed Daniel knew how remorseful he was that he’d failed to be there when he needed him most.
A lone tear trickled down Benjamin’s cheek, uncomfortably warm as he struggled to breathe. Daniel’s impish expression changed and became austere amidst the heckling crowd.
“You can’t give up, Moony,” he spoke, his words a disconcerting rasp amidst the ringing in Benjamin’s ears. “Live for them, for her, and achieve what I failed to do.”
Failure was too harsh a word. And when Benjamin moved to reply, all that came out was a strangled rush of air, his face turning blue as his lungs quivered and burned from lack of breath.
Daniel disappeared and a newfound burst of resolve enveloped him.
Gritting his teeth, Benjamin dipped his bound hands inside his breeches and grabbed Amos’s pocketknife.
Withdrawing it and flicking open the blade, he thrust up his arms and hacked at the rope, his limbs feeling heavy and numb as the bright spots in his vision worsened.
A gunshot tore through the air, and he flinched, awaiting the inevitable embrace of his Savior.
But when death didn’t come, when he realized he was still alive, Benjamin brightened at the sight of Amos on horseback, aiming his second flintlock at a charging soldier before squeezing off another shot.
The redcoat jolted, stunned, before plummeting to the ground.
From all angles, a small group of patriot militiamen descended upon the enemy, following Amos’s lead.
Screams and shouts arose from civilians, and each spectator took off in a different direction, leaving the scene in complete and utter chaos.
Amidst his sawing, Benjamin scanned the crowd for Clara. She was nowhere to be found… Was she safe? Had she been accosted as vengeance toward himself?
Panicking at the thought, Benjamin sliced through the rope and dropped heavily onto his side. He throbbed and ached all over, and gasping for breath, he coughed as four horse hooves stomped alongside his peripheral.
“Oi!” Amos called. “You all right there, Moony?”
“It’s…i-it’s about…time,” Benjamin rasped, the ache in his throat growing raw.
Amos huffed. “No need for the sass, ya ingrate!” Hopping down from his mount, he took Benjamin’s elbows and helped him to his feet, using his shoulder to support the other man’s weight while unfastening his restraints.
“Clara an’ your father are at the wharf,” he explained.
“I’ve got a dory set up for ya. The others an’ I can hold everyone off ’til you get outta here.
” When Benjamin gaped at him, he growled, “Go on, get to ’em. Go!”
Not needing to be told twice, Benjamin accepted the horse’s reins and allowed Amos to swing his leg up until he was seated.
The cabinetmaker gave the horse’s rump a sound smack, and the steed took off in a bolt, giving Benjamin little time to prepare as he held on for all he was worth.
A musket ball whizzed overhead, barely missing his ear.
“He’s getting away! Don’t let him leave!”
Feeling sick, Benjamin desperately nudged his heels into the horse’s flanks. From this vantage point, he could see a slew of dead redcoats dotting the ground like drops of blood. There was no one there to stop him…
Still struggling to breathe, Benjamin panted while leaning in toward the horse’s head, hoping this newfound angle would allow him greater speed. Despite his vision tunneling, he was able to hone in on Clara and his father, both of whom were huddled inside a dory along the docks.
Almost there…
Digging his heels in harder, Benjamin released a triumphant breath once the horse tore up alongside them, and he tugged on the reins, drawing the snorting beast to a stop.
Though once he dismounted, he doubled over and coughed, his knees giving out as Clara climbed onto the pier and raced to his side.
“Ben?” she coaxed, taking his elbow. “Ben, we have to go…”
Josiah was at his other side in an instant, and weakly, he let his father heft him up and drag him toward the boat.
Clara rushed over to hold the vessel still before he was clumsily placed inside.
The craft rocked and Benjamin collapsed to his knees, sucking the salty air into his lungs as Josiah helped Clara in alongside him.
“You must go,” he told them. “I imagine McQuinn and the others won’t serve as a distraction for long.”
Perplexed, Benjamin lifted his head, his breath still wheezing in his lungs. “W-what…? Aren’t you…coming with us?”
“No.” Josiah shook his head. “I must stay here.”
“But—!”
“I’d only slow you down,” he continued. “A party of two is much better at evading danger than three.”
Curling her arm around Benjamin’s shoulders, Clara looked to him with tears in her eyes. “You have to come with us,” she pleaded. “It’s too dangerous here!”
“I’m not the one they’re after,” he reminded them. “And besides, once McQuinn finishes up, he’ll come back for me. The moment it’s safe to do so, I’ll find you and make contact.”
“Write to…t-to the troops in Morristown,” Benjamin agreed. “I have friends there.”
Josiah nodded, tearful as he knelt and held out a hand. Tremblingly, Benjamin clasped his father’s hand in return, then fell into Josiah’s embrace as the older man fiercely drew him into his arms. “Be safe, Benjamin,” he whispered, “and take care of her.”
Gripping his father’s coat, the unspoken always filled the air between them, and Benjamin sank onto his haunches with a lump in his bruised throat. Retrieving the oars, he never took his eyes off his father while Josiah pushed them away from the docks.
Prolonged ocean travel was dangerous with so many enemy vessels, so they steered up an estuary that would lead to Union Wharf. Amidst this time, Clara had been aiding in the rowing but finally needed a moment to rest, so Benjamin continued on without her help.
“He’ll be fine, you know.” Clara’s voice was gentle as it carried over the breeze. “Your father’s a remarkable man, and Corporal McQuinn knows his way around a weapon. I’m sure they’ve escaped by now.”
Benjamin hummed in agreement, though there was clear melancholy in his eyes. “I never thanked him,” he murmured. “Father sacrificed so much for me, and yet I never told him how grateful I am…”
“He knows,” Clara assured. Expression fond, she watched Benjamin row to correct their course, all the while assessing his condition.
There was a stark, rope-shaped bruise and abrasion from where the noose dug mercilessly into his skin, and his eyes were bloodshot from the strain of staying alive.
Despite their need to remain on their respective sides, Clara felt a strong urge to go to him, to cup his face and kiss those harsh, ugly marks, and praise the God she barely spoke to for sparing his life.
But instead, she ventured a weak, “Are you all right?”
It wasn’t like Clara to be timorous, but what if Benjamin wasn’t all right? What if he’d been injured so grievously that he was dying, and didn’t know it?
Benjamin lifted his gaze and smiled. “I’ve been better,” he rasped. Even with the direness of their predicament, he chuckled, the sound pained before he broke into a coughing fit.
Anxious, Clara asked, “Do you need water?”
He shook his head, and the hacking slowly subsided. “No. We’ve been traveling for a couple hours, so it should only take two or three more to get to New Haven. I can refresh myself then.”
Stunned, Clara hissed, “It’s only been two hours?” When he nodded, she groaned and dropped her chin into her hands. “Why New Haven? Do you have family there?”
“I went to school there,” Benjamin reminded her. “I know the area well and feel we can blend in until I figure out how to get us back to camp.”
Clara grimaced. “So, we are heading to Morristown?”
“Eventually, yes. It’s what’s safest.” Clearing his sore throat, he explained, “If we headed there straightaway, our pursuers might expect it and cut us off.”
“You think we’re being pursued?” Shivering, Clara wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. It was cold and bleak and the beginning of December. She couldn’t imagine anyone pursuing a rebel spy in such conditions, regardless of the reward.
Benjamin met her eyes, and a new shiver passed through her, but this time due to the tender warmth that burned within his kind, all-encompassing gaze. “Are you all right?” he gently asked.
A knot formed in her throat and she exhaled.
It was so like him to deflect and only be concerned with her.
“I am,” she assured him. “Other than being scared half to death, I didn’t sustain harm.
” Slowly, a mischievous smirk curved her lips.
“Alas, it also seems my bottom is numb from this uncomfortable wooden seat.”
Benjamin blinked, startled by her candor, before he broke into a wide grin. “Believe me, there are far worse things that can go numb down there.”
Clara laughed. “If you’re referring to what I think you are, then yes, I can’t say I disagree…though I am surprised I’ve so deeply influenced your ribald sense of humor.”