“I understand that you are now engaged with the undertakings of this man Washington. And to one of your opinions this can only mean one thing. You are spying on them.” The distaste in the merchant’s voice was plain, and he added: “If you will be advised by me, you will give it up. It is not to my liking, and should not be to yours. Take service with Lord Howe. Fight the rebels for all that’s in you—but fight them fairly.”
And so George left the mansion in Crown Street to take up his duties; and the next time he rode that way the place was closed and deserted. What his thoughts were, he kept to himself; but that they were unpleasant was clearly evident. But it was no time for wandering thoughts. There was scarcely a day that history of a more or less important degree was not in the making.
While New York was slowly being encompassed by foes, great things were being done some little distance south. At Philadelphia, Congress was discussing a question which John Adams referred to as “great as ever was or will be debated among men.” On the second of July a resolution passed the body declaring the colonies free and independent; on the fourth, the Declaration of Independence, as drafted by Mr. Jefferson, was adopted.
Riders were sent scurrying in all directions with fair copies of this; and on the evening of July 9th, Washington caused it to be read at the head of each brigade of the army.
“I hope,” he said in his orders, “that this important event will serve as a fresh incentive to every officer and soldier to act with fidelity and courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his country depend, under God, solely on the success of our arms; and that he is now in the service of a state, possessed of sufficient power to reward his merit and advance him to the highest honors of a free country.”
Bells were rung, guns sounded, bonfires gleamed at every street corner. An excited throng gathered in the yard of the “King’s Arms” and planned an escapade which they felt would fittingly crown the moment.
A man well known as an enthusiastic member of the Sons of Liberty sprang up and addressed those present.
“Friends,” he cried, “a word with you.” By the expression of his face they knew he had something of interest to propose; and so all conversation was hushed. “We are done with kingly government and with kings,” proceeded the speaker. “And this being the case, we have left something undone. On Bowling Green, near the fort, is a statue of King George——”
An instant roar went up.
“Shall it remain longer than it takes us to make our way there?” demanded the man.