New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [113]
An hour passed, and more. From time to time they heard roars from the direction of the fort, but the crowds did not seem to be coming in their direction. Eventually, Hudson came down, and said: “Sounds like they’re going away. Maybe I’ll take a look.” But Master wasn’t sure whether to let him.
“I don’t want you getting hurt,” he objected.
“It ain’t the black men, Boss, that they’re after tonight,” Hudson answered quietly. A few moments later he slipped out into the street.
An hour passed before he returned. The news he brought was not good. After burning the effigies of the governor, the crowd had swung back up Broadway to the house of Major James, the fort’s English artillery commander. “They took everything out of his house—china, furniture, books. Smashed all they could and burned the rest. You never saw such destruction.”
Things quietened down in the next few days. Old Colden had the stock of stamped paper transferred to the City Hall, where it remained. But before Christmas, a new force arose. Its leaders were a mixed group. Some, Master considered, were just troublemakers like Charlie. One, to his certain knowledge, had originally been a convict. But others were more formidable. Two of them, Sears and McDougall, were fellows who’d worked their way up in the privateering trade from poverty to modest wealth, but were still close enough to their roots to carry the mob with them. They made their headquarters at Montayne’s Tavern. And they had a program. “First we’ll make a union with all the other colonies. Then to hell with London—we’ll repeal the Stamp Act ourselves!” They had a stirring name for their movement, too: the Sons of Liberty.
The Liberty Boys, John Master called them. Sometimes they used reason, sometimes they used force. One night when John and Mercy were at a play, a crowd of Liberty Boys came and broke up the theater, telling the astonished patrons that they shouldn’t be enjoying themselves when the rest of the city was suffering. At other times, they patrolled the docks to make sure that no one was receiving any goods from England.
The Provincial Assembly was horrified by the trouble in the streets, voted generous compensation to Major James for the destruction of his property, and did its best to control the mobs. Though the Assembly was divided into two main factions, the two faction leaders, Livingston and De Lancey, were both rich gentlemen and friendly with John Master. And each told him: “We gentlemen have got to stop these Liberty Boys getting out of hand.” But it wasn’t easy.
Master received some small hope from Albion. In London, the English merchant told him, the obstinate Grenville had been replaced by a new prime minister, Lord Rockingham, who was sympathetic to the colonies and wanted to get rid of the Stamp Act. Others felt the same. “But they are so troubled by the radicals and our own London mob at present, that they fear to make concessions which might look like weakness. Be patient therefore.”
Try telling that, John thought, to the Liberty Boys.
He had to endure another six weeks before a ship finally arrived with the news: Parliament had repealed the act.
The city was jubilant. The Sons of Liberty called it a triumph. The Assembly voted that a new and splendid statue of King George should be erected on Bowling Green. The merchants rejoiced that trade could resume once more. Master was astonished at how suddenly the mood of the population could swing.
But though he was glad of this news, John Master could not rejoice with a full heart. For the same ship had brought another letter. It was from James.
My dear Father,
As I shall shortly complete my studies at Oxford, the question arises as to what I should do. Mr. Albion has suggested that, if I wish, and if you are agreeable, I might learn something of our business by working for him for a while. As you know, he has extensive trade not only with the American colonies, but with India too, and most parts of the empire. Though I long to return to