get enough of ’em. Right now information’s our biggest weapon.”
Again Nat hesitated. Now—still a part of the inexorable pattern—he was faced with the decision. He met Warren’s steady gaze.
“Doctor, do you think it will come to fighting—war?”
Warren looked down at his pipe, speculatively, as though he half thought to discover something more than just dead ashes in the bowl.
“Yes,” he said finally, “I believe it will.” Then he looked up at Nat. “Are you afraid of fighting, Nat? Of being killed?”
“Yes, sir, I sure am,” Nat said candidly.
Warren smiled quietly. “So am I, frankly. I don’t mind dying, but I’m deathly afraid of being killed.”
“How’s that, Doc?” Shad looked bewildered.
“To die of sickness or old age, of natural causes, holds no horror for me,” Warren explained. “But to be killed by a bayonet or a musket ball . . . ” He shrugged, and knocked out his pipe in the palm of his hand.
“But if it comes to fighting,” Nat prompted, “you’ll still go through with it?”
“Yes, I will, Nat,” the doctor said simply.
Nat nodded. “All right, Doctor. So will I.”
4
THEY BOTH KNEW THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT DEATH
Shad was in a fever to get away from the theater right after the show the following night. He barely bothered to remove the grease paint from his face, saying:
“Something’s up, don’t ask me what. But Harvey Allen just sent word that Warren wants me quicker than a starvin’ man wants a meal!”
“Well, what about me?” Nat wanted to know.
Shad was already to the door. “Beats me, Natty. But if I was you, I’d scoot over to Jessie’s just as soon as you finished here. See you!”
Nat cleaned himself, switched to his street clothes, grabbed his hat, and hurried from the dressing room. He bumped into Benny in the wings. The manager was toting a fat bag of clinking coins, and he started cooing ecstatically like a mother over her first-born.
“A fortune, Nathaniel, dear lad! A veritable fortune! Remind me to consider doubling your wages and presenting a bonus to Shad—some day.”
“All right, Benny. I’m in a hurry now. See you tomorrow.”
He’d never been more wrong in his life. A sergeant from the Fourth (King’s Own) Regiment was tacking a fresh proclamation onto the billboard in front of the theater. The date it bore was April 18, 1775.
Ed Norton let him into the warehouse. The old fellow was so excited he kept plucking at Nat’s sleeve all the way down the corridor.
“What’s up, Ed?”
“Big doings. The regulars are going out!”
“Out? You mean out of Boston? To where?”
“Concord, you idiot! Where else?”
“Well, what’s about Concord?”
“Gunpowder!” Ed cried. “That’s what about Concord! For months our boys have been raiding the King’s stores, and they’ve made a military depository in Concord. Why, child, Concord’s full of cartridge paper, flints, musket balls, bombs, fuses, spades, kettles, billhooks, swords, and powder!”
“And Gage knows it?”
“Bless you, to be sure he does! His Tory spies know everything. And what’s more, he aims to get it! And I mean tonight!”
Nat left old Ed at the door and started down the steps on his own, only to have to step aside as a nameless stranger came hurrying up the stairs. The man gave him a quick sideways look and a fleeting grin in passing.
“Some excitement, eh bucko?”
“I reckon,” Nat agreed. And then the man was gone and Nat went downstairs.
Billy Dawes and Dr. Warren were alone for the moment, both standing, bending over the table, studying a map. Billy looked up and grinned.
“Hear the news, Nat-o?”
“Yes. Is it true?”
Warren reached for his pipe absently, still staring at the map.
“Very true. One of Paul’s men, Jasper, a gunsmith, heard about the intended movement this afternoon from a British sergeant. Gage planned to make this a secret expedition—but there’s one thing no general has ever been able to do, and that’s keep a soldier’s mouth shut.”
“Colonel Smith of the Tenth Foot, and Major Pitcairn of the marines are taking the grenadier and light infantry companies,” Billy said. “We figure there’ll be about seven hundred men in the detachment.”
You had to hand it to Revere’s agents, Nat marveled. They really kept their eyes and ears cocked.
And later, much later, he had to marvel at the vagaries of history. Somehow, in legends, Revere was to emerge as the hero of the night. Actually Warren had already sent out about a dozen riders to warn the countryside and arouse the minutemen and the militia. And Shad had been one of them. Now Warren looked up at Nat.
“Are you at all acquainted with the countryside, Nat?”
Nat had to confess that he wasn’t. The doctor merely nodded, glancing back at his map.
“Billy and Paul are going to ride direct to Lexington to warn Adams and Hancock—it’s very possible that Smith will attempt to place them under arrest. Then they’ll continue on to Concord.
“There are two main roads leading to Concord. One by way of the Neck toward Roxbury, then around to Cambridge and Menotomy, and so on through Lexington. This is much the longer road, and I’m going to send Billy along it, because Paul seems to be rather tardy arriving tonight.” He looked at Nat again.
“Will you go with Billy? There might be patrols out. If one man is stopped the other might still get through.”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to.” Next to Shad, Nat didn’t know of anyone he’d rather join in a night of adventure. Billy was a casually courageous young character who had recently made a name for himself when he had beaten a British soldier silly for insulting his pretty wife. Billy grinned and slapped Nat on the shoulder.
“All right, Nat-o! Let’s see if you can make a horse move!”
“Nat,” Warren suddenly called. “I have a feeling that this is the moment we were talking about last night.”
Nat stared at the older man, the recognized intellectual head of the Committee of Safety.
“All right, Doctor. I guess it can only
