Guns for General Washington Read Online Free Page B

will freeze solid. You’ll
never
get through.”
    The others nodded in agreement They turned away and began muttering to each other. Henry caught words like “impractical,” “absurd,” and “foolhardy.” The old general spoke up again. “I admire your spirit, Knox, but the whole thing’s impossible. Waste of time and good money. It simply can’t be done.”
    Henry sensed the mood of the group and his hopes began to fade. He hadn’t convinced them; his wonderful scheme was about to be rejected. But at that point General Washington turned to him, put a fatherly hand on his arm, and said, “They may well be right. Considering the odds, it
does
sound impossible. But we need those guns and if anyone can get them,
you
can. So go ahead, Henry. Go ahead and try.”
    Â 
    An hour later, Henry Knox burst into his brother’s tent. William, sitting on his cot, was trying to sew a button onto his tunic. He looked up, saw his brother’s face, and let out a whoop. “They accepted the plan!”
    Henry sat down, beaming. “Right, lad. At least Washington did—and that’s what matters. Official permission has to come from Philadelphia, but that’s only a formality. The general wants us to get started, and we’re to spare no trouble or expense. He’s rushing a letter to General Schuyler in Albany, ordering him to give us all the help we need.”
    William narrowed his eyes and smiled. “You said ‘we’ and ‘us.’ That means I get to go with you?”
    His brother laughed. “I have no choice; I promised father before he left for the Indies that I’d always keep an eye on you. So finish that button—we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
    Â 
    One of the ferrymen on the Charles River was William’s friend, a grizzled veteran known as Old Toby. Early that evening, Toby tapped on the kitchen window of the Revere house in Boston. When Paul Junior answered, he handed him a note, winked, and hobbled away. Paul opened the scrawled note and read:
    Â 
Paulie, The plan is under way. I won’t be seeing you for a spell. Keep praying
.
—
W.K
.

6
To Ticonderoga
    On November 28, 1775, Henry and Will Knox left camp on horseback, leading a pack mule loaded with supplies for their journey.
    Ahead lay miles of wilderness, craggy mountain ranges, ice-clogged rivers, deep gorges, and valleys thick with stands of birch, spruce, and white pine. The woods were teeming with beavers, deer, black bears, and other animals, but there were few people. On their way the travelers would be isolated, except for a few river towns and a scattering of Iroquois Indians living in bark-covered longhouses.
    Their first goal was the city of Albany. But before that, they stopped at Worcester so Henry could say good-bye to Lucy. William, staying tactfully out of the way, watched the couple sympathetically. They kept up a brave front, but Will saw anxiety in Lucy’s face. They didn’t put it into words, but all three knew that the mission was dangerous. Anything could happen. If there were a bad accident, if they were ambushed by Indians or by the British, husband and wife might never see each other again.
    Soon Henry and Will swung into their saddles to continue west. Lucy stood at the door, her eyes fixed on her big, brawny husband. As the men clattered down the icy road, the mule trotting behind, her smile faded. She raised a hand and whispered softly, “Take care, my dear. Take care . . .”
    Â 
    The weather turned colder and the wind rose. Muffled in scarves and heavy coats, the brothers rode past Webb Hill, forded the Connecticut River, and came to the village of Pittsfield. Here they crossed the border into New York State, turned north, and reached Albany on the first of December.
    General Philip Schuyler, commanding the Albany garrison, had already been alerted by Washington. Like the others, Schuyler thought