Free The Gentle Rebel by Gilbert Morris

staunch loyalists. He had something to say to Nathan, and was hesitant.
    “Well, you must have done something right with the youngwoman. You’ve been a pretty frequent guest at her house—and poor Paul must be cursing the day he ever took you there!”
    “I—I’m sorry for that—about Paul, I mean.”
    “Oh, they weren’t engaged.” Pitcairn shook his head and added, “She’s a real catch, my boy—looks and money. But I don’t know if she’d suit your family.”
    Nathan shook his head sadly. “You’re right about that. She’s got little use for the rebel cause.”
    Pitcairn studied young Winslow, then made a quick decision. “Nathan, I sent for you because there’s something you need to know.”
    Pitcairn’s serious air was disturbing. “What is it, Major?”
    “It’s about your brother. He’s getting involved with a radical group, and I think you ought to know it.”
    “Caleb? But he’s just a boy!”
    “That may be, but nonetheless he’s taken up with a young man who works for your uncle—Moses Tyler, he’s called.”
    “Why, I know Moses,” Nathan said at once.
    “We’ve had our eyes on him for some time. He’s joined to the Sons of Liberty—perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
    “Yes, but I thought they were harmless enough.”
    A rare anger touched Major Pitcairn’s face, and he said, “Let’s get out of here, Nathan. Too many ears to hear in this place.”
    He laid a coin on the table and Nathan followed him outside, both of them pulling their coats high to protect their faces from the bitter cold. “You ever hear of the Boston Massacre, Nathan?”
    “Of course.”
    “Well, this is where it happened.” Pitcairn waved his hand toward the square. “It was most unfortunate, Nathan. A band of unemployed laborers attacked a British sentry right over there, and a mob collected, throwing oyster shells and snowballs. In the confusion, somebody called out ‘Fire!’ and our men fired. Five men were killed and six were wounded.”
    “They shouldn’t have fired on unarmed men, Major.”
    “No, certainly not, and a better officer would have prevented that. But it was a great opportunity for Sam Adams and James Otis! They got Paul Revere to do an engraving of the riot—you’ve probably seen it.” A bitter smile touched Pitcairn’s lips and he pointed at the Custom House, which was next to the British Coffeehouse. “Revere put a sign in the engraving on that building. Know what it was?”
    “It was BUTCHER’S HALL.” Nathan remembered the engraving well, for copies of it had been carried all over the Colonies. “But that’s not treason, what Adams did.”
    “No, but it gave Sam Adams a beginning! And the next thing he did was organize the Boston Tea Party— that was a criminal act, Nathan.”
    “I suppose so,” Nathan said slowly.
    Pitcairn took the arm of the tall young man, his grip like steel, saying, “Nathan, Sam Adams was a business failure, one of those whining, nagging malcontents you want to poke in the nose—but just the sort you’d want on your side in an eye-gouging fight. He’s a burr under the saddle, blast him! Such men breed revolutions, and they don’t give a hang who has to die for it.”
    “And you say Caleb’s been going to their meetings?”
    They had just turned a corner and a blast of cold air struck them so hard that both men gasped. “See that old red brick building—the one with blue shutters?”
    “What about it, Major?”
    “That’s Sam Adams’ house—where they meet. The rest are no better, Nathan. Otis was a Massachusetts lawyer who couldn’t handle his liquor. He was a Tory once, then switched over to a Whig position because he saw a dollar to be turned. And there’s John Hancock—and he may be the worst of the lot—though he’s smooth enough!”
    “Rich, isn’t he?”
    “Oh yes, and how did he get that way? By smuggling tea! And that’s why he got in on the tea party in the harbor—his profits were in danger. Nathan,