“I know, madam, that you are the widow of a Continental soldier and may be depended upon to help your country.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the widow quite promptly.
“This, then, is what I wish to say. The patriots of Newport desire to communicate with the Continental forces at Providence Plantations, and if they can get a trusty messenger as far as Tiverton, there will be no difficulty the rest of the way. We dare not employ a man on this service as we are closely watched. But a boy would never be suspected, and our communication would be in the form of a letter that would reveal nothing in case it was found. Mr. James Barton, who has a gallant son in the Continental Army, and myself are old friends, and we are supposed to be corresponding for pleasure and profit. Mr. Barton, for example, has beeves to sell, and writes me asking the price in the market. His younger son has lately visited my house, and in my letter I speak of him. Yet there is a hidden meaning in all this, and it would be of substantial help to the cause if we could carry information in that manner.”
“If you will wait a few moments, sir, I will ask Mr. Bell’s opinion. He’s a steady, sensible man, and although I’m perfectly willing to let my boy do all he can, I’d rather consult Mr. Bell.”
At that moment they both heard Dicky and Jack Bell fumbling at the latch. The widow rose and let them in, then bolted the door again.
Jack Bell knew well enough who Squire Stavers was, and when Dicky heard that he, Dicky Stubbs, was actually wanted for an important service, he could scarcely forbear hurrahing and cutting the pigeon wing in his delight.
“Now let me read you the letter I wish the lad to carry,” said the Squire, putting on his great gold spectacles, and taking a letter from his pocket. “Suppose your boy is stopped. Let him at once produce this letter, and if the British can find out anything from it, they are cleverer than I take it.”
My dear Sir,—
Your letter, enquiring what price beeves will fetch, is received, and I made a note of the contents. No one can understand who has not been here lately, the extremely low price that animal produce has fallen to. But let me know in regard to the beeves, stating whether you wish to sell them on the hoof or not, which is important. The lad who takes this can bring a verbal message straight enough, but it would be safest to write, as boys are but heedless creatures, and of their own memory, they are overconfident. However, the bearer of this, may be your son, as I am expecting him to return this way, and I may keep it for him. The town is closely patrolled, and although the force here is large, it is remarkably well disciplined. Your son was very popular among the young ladies, who seemed determined to surround and capture him. The place is not what it was in times of peace, as it is very dull, the military being obliged to see an extremely strict watch kept, and it would not be difficult in consideration of the unsettled state of affairs to believe that we are in a state of siege, which is a serious matter. There is but an indifferent interest taken in welfare of the town, except by General Prescott commanding the land forces. He is an able officer, and his loss would be very great should he be transferred. I am thinking of taking up my residence at the Eagle Tavern, or at the Overing House, on the outskirts of the town.
I should let my house to a staff officer of my acquaintance who wants it for six months. General Prescott has taken up his quarters as if he meant to stay, and it leads me to think that no change of commanders is impending.
I am, Your Friend and Obedient Servant, WENTWORTH STAVERS.
Jack Bell listened with great solemnity to the reading of this letter, and when the Squire finished reading and lay back in the chair with a triumphant smile, Jack remarked with emphasis:—
“There ain’t nothin’ to hurt a babby in that ’ere letter. It’s all plain sailin’, as fur as I can see.”