Sophia's War: Chapters 29–48

For a long while my parents remained sunk in plightful melancholy, aging rapidly before my eyes.

Yes, over time they resumed a kind of being, though much subdued in spirit and strength.

Many British officers brought wives and children from England to build a regular military establishment. As a result, a lively social life ensued.

The city’s greatest difficulty was securing food. Rebellious citizens and patriot troops surrounded the city. Nearby Long Island was unable to produce adequate amounts, and marauding British troops and Tory sympathizers could steal only so much.

Spoilage was as ordinary as theft and graft.

Indeed, there was an incessant illegal trade of common necessities.

The air was heavy and humid, with alternate moments of sun and squally rain, which is to say, an ordinary New York spring day.

Not one to put himself forward, he was given to mild speech and bland emotions. He appeared interested merely in the births, lives, and deaths of citizens and whatever trifling news there was about the war.

Mr. Townsend ventured no opinion, but, as always, mostly listened.

“Alas,” he murmured. “It’s said there are thousands languishing in the various prisons in and around the city. The prison hulk the Jersey in Wallabout Bay being the worst. And in this heat. Have you heard of Provost Cunningham?”

Merely to hear that loathsome name stressed me.

Though my father detested Rivington’s views, he was compelled to do his copy work by way of income. That was my sole connection to Mr. Rivington. Why Mr. Townsend should mention the man, I could not fathom.

The ground floor of the two-story wooden building was a large, open room, illuminated by lamps and candles, which added to the heat of the day. Posts held up the ceiling’s oak beams. Tables and Windsor chairs were set about at random. Brown wainscoting lined the walls.

In time he said, “With the fall of Charleston, our situation is precarious. Miss Calderwood, you asked, ‘How could I play a part in this struggle?’ I know of a way.”

I now understood he lived the proverb “Wise heads have quiet tongues and eager ears.”

Did I not constantly chide myself about my unfulfilled vow to avenge my brother’s death?

Here, at last, was opportunity.
But—come solutions, come quibbles. What if I were found out? Did I wish to practice such trickery?

His task was to watch for pillaging Tories—called “cowboys”—and prowling redcoats.

For most of the day I worked setting lines of advertising type. Dull work indeed, and tedium agitates the soul. My mind spun about the questions I would pose to Mr. Townsend.

“Anything you believe is significant you shall convey to me. No more. No less.”

I think I nodded. Oh, fateful nod!

I spent a tossing night, wondering about all that might happen. How would I comport myself? Was I capable of deception?

My heart lurched. My throat tightened. I could hardly breathe. All I did was gawk at him.

“Never forget,” she prattled rapidly as she gave me a tour, “this house is the most important in the city and, I daresay, in the country. His Excellency General Henry Clinton insists that things be done to perfection.”

From floor to ceiling, wealth and fashion gilded every inch of the headquarters.

The outsized rooms all had fireplaces with marble mantels, stylish chairs with tapestry backings and cushions, as well as graceful tables on thick rugs.

All the same, I wished to see it, the more so when Mrs. Ticknor, hand on the doorknob, spoke with reverence. “You must pay attention to the major. He’s risen swiftly, and will go far."

As I went about my tasks that first day, I tried to speculate what kind of information might be in those papers I had seen on Major André’s desk.

My first week of work, though arduous, proved typical. Chores were endless, and of small interest.

That said, my fear of discovery subsided, because the only ones who paid any attention to me were my sister cleaners and Mrs. Ticknor.

That said, the women I worked with were quite companionable. While we toiled, there were moments of casual chatter and gossip, which I was interested to hear.

What followed was a list:
French fleet is on way
Attack on Quebec
West Point is under strength
Hudson's River chain easily smashed
Rocky Hill redoubt weak
Requests £10,000

That night, when I came home, I wrote down all I could recall of that memorandum.

With rash impulsiveness, I went to André’s desk and read what he had written: it was addressed to Mr. Moore.

Some days later, in the morning, I was cleaning the vestibule at the Kennedy house when Major André and two other officers passed by me.

He paid no mind to me. Probably he did not even notice me—a girl at her menial work.

During my sleepless hours, I culled the idea that Mr. Gaine and Mr. Rivington—both of whom, I was convinced, knew what Mr. Townsend was secretly doing and were aware of my connection—could help me get a message to him.

I thought of telling Mr. Rivington that I was aware of his business association with Mr. Townsend, but considered it imprudent.

Tho West Point derives its importance from the nature of the operations of our enemy yet should we thro your means possesses ourselves of 3,000 men and its artillery and stores with the magazine of provisions for the army which may probably be there the sum of 20,000 pounds should be paid you.

During one night in the second half of August, I came home tired from work and extremely dejected with the inactivity in this desperate matter.