New York - The Novel

city with his pack of dogs, usually followed by a crowd of curious children. He knew his business, though. In a month, he had laid the solid groundwork for the city’s defenses.
    His presence in the city had had one other consequence for the Master family. When James went to offer his services, he had much impressed the peppery general, who had soon sent him up to Boston to join Washington.
    As Abigail walked along Beaver Street, her mind turned to her dear brother, and she wondered how long it would be before she saw himagain. She crossed the street to Bowling Green. Little Weston was tugging at her hand. She let him run ahead.

    John Master looked at the letter again. It was not easy to get letters from England at the moment—and as a well-known Tory, he had to be cautious. Many of his Tory friends had left the city during the last months. Tryon, the royal governor, was safely on a ship in the harbor now. For Loyalists who dared to remain, it was wisest not to draw attention to oneself. A man who corresponded with England might be taken for a spy. But Albion had cleverly sent his letter through Boston, and a messenger had handed it to Solomon at the door of the house last night.
    The letter was clear, concise, and not very encouraging.
    A huge army was being gathered. So large, that British redcoats would not be enough. The government was hiring German mercenaries. They had even tried to get troops from Russia, but the Empress Catherine had refused them. There was no drawing back now.
    There had been many in England whose sympathies lay with the rebels, he reminded Master. The Londoners, in particular, were the colonists’ friends. Even Lord North, the prime minister, was minded to be conciliatory, until the fighting started. In the House of Commons, Burke, Charles James Fox and other fine orators were still speaking out for the colonists’ cause. In the Lords, both the great Chatham, who had led England to victory over the French in the last war, and Franklin’s friend Lord Dartmouth were still prepared to urge compromise. A few army officers had even refused to serve against the colonists.
    But once British soldiers were being killed, public sympathy had swung toward the government. It was only to be expected. Above all, King George, with all his honest heart, believed it was his duty not to give way. The majority in Parliament agreed with him. And even if they hadn’t, so many Members of Parliament had public offices which paid fine salaries for no work, or held military commissions where promotion depended on the government, or had friends with government contracts, or could, quite simply, be bribed, that Lord North could be certain of securing a majority.
    Was there still hope? Yes, Albion said, for two reasons. The first was the vast expense of sending armies so far. The second was that France, seeingBritish power engaged in America, would probably attack other parts of the empire, and try to snatch back what they lost in the last war. Once the Patriots had seen what they were up against, and been thoroughly terrified, perhaps they would temper the more extreme of their demands, and a compromise might be reached.
    He ended his letter on a lighter note.
    Did James tell you, the rumor has always been that Lord North’s mother cuckolded her husband with the king’s father? And that King George and his prime minister are thus half-brothers? (They look so alike, I’m sure ’tis true.) If the prime minister should ever grow weary of chastising the colonists, therefore, his royal brother, believing God to be on his side, will be sure to make him stick to his purpose.
    Master had watched Abigail carefully as she read the letter. He had been amused at her shock when she came to the passage about the king and his brother.
    “I never imagined, Papa,” she had said, “that Lord North was the king’s bastard brother. Are such things often done in England?”
    “They have been known,” he had answered with a smile, “even in America.”
    But the real point, he thought now, as he read the letter again, the real point was that there was still hope. There would probably have to be fighting, but once the Patriots discovered what they had done—despite Charlie White and the Liberty Boys, despite General Lee and his fortifications, despite the tragic folly of his own son James—a settlement of some kind would be negotiated. There was still hope for himself, and Abigail, and little Weston.
    He sat for some