Soldier, Spy Ch. 04

Chapter Four: Played Out: November 1776 to the Spring of 1778

16 November 1776

Lieutenant Douglas Bester didn't retreat with George Washington's forces into New Jersey. The intelligence unit chief, Major Brady Lathrop, left him behind in the last Continental Army stronghold remaining on Manhattan, Fort Washington. In fact, it was Bester who Washington sent to the fort, located half way up the island on the banks of the Hudson River, near the mouth of the Harlem River, which divides Manhattan from the Bronx, to inform the fort commander, Colonel Robert Magaw, of the general retreat and pass on Washington's order one last time that the fort be abandoned. Washington had already ordered the previous commander at the fort, General Nathanael Greene, to abandon the stronghold that then housed twelve hundred men. Instead, the strength of the fort had been increased to three thousand men.

Magaw refused the order and declared he would hold the fort to the last man. Once there, barely having been able to ride through the forming British siege around the fort, Bester was trapped and had to remain. The situation for the colonialist in the fort was worsened in early November when, on the 2nd, William Demont, one of Magaw's own men, defected to the British, taking plans of the fort with him. It wasn't only the colonialists who were actively engaged in spying.

Not having heard from either Bester or Magaw, Washington started to return with forces to relieve the fort, but his progress was arrested with the news that the British had attacked and taken the fort on November 16th. The British forces, under the command of General William Howe, attacked the fort from three sides, the north, east, and south. The attack from the fourth direction, the Harlem River, was delayed by tides, but the fort defenses to the south crumbled almost immediately after the first softening up of the British artillery. The actual troops attacking the fort mainly were eight thousand mercenary Hessians under the command of Lieutenant General Wilhelm von Knyphausen. The Americans retreated to the northern sector of the fort for hand-to-hand fighting, but were forced to surrender. The Hessians lost three times the number of American soldiers killed, but over fifty of the colonialists were killed, nearly a hundred wounded, and nearly three thousand were captured.

The fort was renamed Fort Knyphausen and the captured Americans were marched to the tip of Manhattan and put on ships, which became the advent of the notorious use of British prison ships, floating in the mouth of the East River into New York harbor, that became pestilent hell holes holding rebel prisoners under foul conditions for the remainder of the Revolutionary War, to 1783.

Lieutenant Bester wasn't one of the men marched off to the prison ships from the last stand in the northern sector of the fort. He had been standing by a concrete wall inside the fort when the first artillery barrage began and was struck by and buried under a large chunk of concrete dislodged by a British shell.

The HMS Yarmouth became one of the prison ships that held the prisoners who had surrendered at Fort Washington, and the Yarmouth remained in that role until the end of the war. Neither Captain Owen Sheffeld nor his former dresser and server, Timothy Grady, were aboard the vessel when the prisoners started arriving in late November, however. Sheffeld was already on the high seas, returning to England, his wife, and another assignment in London. Timothy was in lower Manhattan, having amicably parted with his reassigned master. Thomas Hadley had been declared dead from the fire that destroyed his house on Stone Street and much of the surrounding town on the night of September 21st.

As Hadley was determined to have been a British sympathizer, as was Timothy Grady, and a will was produced declaring Timothy's indenture cancelled upon the death of Hadley and assigned Timothy as Hadley's heir, Timothy was suddenly a landowner—albeit of scorched earth—and had in hand a small fortune from the assets of Hadley's that had not burned. Thus, Grady was ashore in lower Manhattan in late November and busy with plans to build a tavern that he would name Nathan's on the Stone Street site of the former Hadley mansion. Grady's idea was to have a tavern downstairs and a male brothel upstairs. He could initially handle that trade himself, knowing it was a trade he was good at, and could add young men as demand increased. There was always some level, albeit rarely acknowledged, of demand for men pleasuring other men for a fee.

The first mate of the Yarmouth, Stanley Calvert, had been moved up to command of the ship upon Sheffeld's departure and subsequently was left in command when the Yarmouth was converted into a prison ship. Calvert had been one of the Yarmouth officers who had had sexual access to Timothy in the past, and Timothy counted on Calvert to permit his sailors and prison guards who were so disposed to avail themselves of the services of Nathan's and the services upstairs, so contact between the new commander of the Yarmouth and Timothy was maintained.

Also maintained was Timothy's work to collect whatever information he could on the British intentions and dispositions and to pass this on through the rebel spy network via Samuel Fraunces, whose own tavern had been saved from the September fire. As the most useful intelligence from the British was available from direct contact by Timothy with British officers, he continued to row out to the Yarmouth whenever he was invited and to give the new ship commander, Calvert, all of the same servicing that he previously had given Captain Sheffeld.

* * * *

February 1777

"I wonder what's going on out there," Samuel Fraunces asked, handing the spyglass back to Timothy Grady. They were standing on the widow's walk at the top of the three-story building, almost completed, being built as a tavern and male brothel on the Stone Street site of the previous Hadley mansion in lower Manhattan. People had wondered, some aloud, why Grady was building his tavern to tower above other buildings being constructed on the street that had been devastated by the September 21st fire of the previous year. Grady knew why, but he couldn't very well tell them that it was so that he could keep an eye from his rooftop on the British fleet standing in New York harbor as well as traffic at the mouths of the Hudson and East rivers.

What had caught the eyes of Timothy and Samuel today was the appearance of a third sixty-cannon ship at the mouth of the bay, along with several smaller ships, to add to the HMS Asia and Yarmouth prison ships that had been stationed in the harbor for more than a year. Skiff activity going out to this newly arrived warship had been observed from the tavern's widow's walk. The question was what was going on? Preparation for the augmentation of British forces here and perhaps a concentrated invasion of the New York colony by the British?

"I guess I'll need to go find out," Timothy said.

"You have a reason to go out there?" Samuel asked. "You know we cannot risk your capture. We could wait for the sailors to come into my tavern and let slip what is happening."

"I don't think we can afford to wait," Timothy answered. "And yes, I have reason. I have a regular service of sending my lads out to the ships to service the officers who want them. I haven't been to the Yarmouth recently and the new commander of the vessel, Stanley Calvert, fancies me. I'm sure I can find out from him what is going on out there—and, if not from him, from some other sailor."

"Well, be careful. It also would be good, though, if you could take note of their treatment of the prisoners on the ship if you have a chance."

Timothy had a chance to do that later that afternoon. When he came aboard the Yarmouth, he found that Stanley Calvert wasn't there—that he was one of those who had taken a skiff over to the newly arrived warship. At the same time, Timothy got the information he had come out looking for. Matthew Meeks, the first officer of the Yarmouth, told him that the ship out there was the seventy-four-gun HMS Culloden and was just putting in a port call on its way to its new station in the West Indies. Thus, Timothy now knew what he needed to know. This was no new threat to New York colony. But Meeks gave him reason to learn even more before he went back to land.

"As long as you are here," Meeks said, putting a hand on Timothy's arm, "we could see that your trip out here wasn't wasted. I know you came to give Calvert a tumble. I could use a good fuck myself."

"You know that I have rates now," Timothy answered.

"Aye, and well worth the price too. I have duties to perform, but if you'll go down to my cabin and wait a bit, I'll be down soon to give you a good screw. Mayhaps Calvert will be back by then and give you a go too. The trip might be worth your while then."

The trip had already been worth his while, but this might give Timothy a chance to check out the conditions of the prisoners, he thought, so he readily agreed. Timothy well knew how to get to the captain's cabin on the Yarmouth; he'd lived in the cabin and under the former captain, Owen Sheffeld, for many a month, but he had to receive directions to Meek's cabin, which took him, he was happy to learn, down more into the bowels of the ship.

He purposely got lost enough to find the stairs down into the hold where the prisoners were being held—in near darkness. The smell arising from the hold was enough to tell Timothy that he'd found what he was looking for. As he feared, he found the men existing in nearly inhuman conditions, chained and nearly touching on all sides as they lay on filthy pallets and in squalid conditions. He was about to turn half way down the stairs and return to where he was able to take a breath when a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle.

"Timothy? Timothy Grady? Is that you?" a weak voice had said.

In his surprise, Timothy looked down into the murky light. "Douglas? Douglas Bester? You're alive?"

"Barely," Timothy's former soldier lover spoke, as he worked at standing.

"I thought you'd died at Fort Washington."

"I might as well have," Bester answered, bringing attention to his wooden leg. "I lost this to a chunk of concrete in the bombardment. Haven't been worth spittle since then. They patched me up but only to send me here."

"You'll always be worthwhile to me, Douglas," Timothy said. "I'll get you out of here."

"I doubt that very much," Bester said, with a dry laugh.

"Don't doubt me, Douglas," Timothy answered, his voice determined. "It will take time, but just concentrate on staying alive. I will have you out of here."

Timothy as on Matthew Meeks' bunk, under the heavy bulk of the redheaded sailor, the heels of his feet rubbing the sailor's calves as Meeks lay between his spread thighs and humped him hard with a thick cock, when Stanley Calvert entered the cabin. Timothy's mind had been racing on the shocking knowledge that Douglas Bester had been alive and been held here on the ship for months. Timothy had thought he was dead, and now concentrated on whatever plans he could devise to free his former lover. With Calvert now present, grinning, and shucking his clothes, Timothy's thoughts were refocused on having two randy sailors in the cabin with him.

As Timothy had feared, Calvert wasn't going to wait to have Timothy alone to him. With Meeks still on top of Timothy and pumping his ass deep, a naked Calvert wormed his way underneath Timothy and worked on penetrating Timothy's ass with his cock, pushing in underneath where Meeks already was sheathed and pumping. Timothy concentrated on just taking the two randy sailors together for the next several minutes.

Later, now in the captain's cabin, with just Calvert fucking him, Timothy began to weave a plan to spring Bester.

"God, you are good," he murmured when Calvert had come and collapsed on top of Timothy. "I need you on a regular basis. No charge for you, of course. You are too good for me to take money from."

"Come out to the ship any time. I'll be happy to give you what you need," Calvert answered.

"You can count on me coming out often," Timothy said with a secret little smile.

* * * *

March-April 1777

"You know you could be making money out of these prisoners," Timothy whispered. He had Stanley Calvert on his back on the captain's bed aboard the HMS Yarmouth and was slow-stroking the man's cock with a hand. They'd had sweaty sex with Calvert on top. After an interlude of cooling down and resting, they'd have another go at it with Timothy riding the cock. Timothy had had several visits to work out what made Calvert mellow and when during sex he was most approachable. "There's no reason that they need just to be a financial drain."

"What do you mean?" Calvert asked, his voice dreamy, in body in a floating world of high sensuality.

"I mean some of them could be rented out to businesses in Manhattan. There's a shortage of indentured servants and apprentices there. There's no reason why they should all just be left to rot below decks, siphoning off British supplies to keep them alive to serve no purpose."

"They'd just run away if we let them off the ship."

"Not if they were crippled in some way—and were guarded well by trusted merchants and knew that they couldn't get far without being recaptured and executed as deserters. They'd be off your hands then. And the merchants could pay for their services and house and feed them, relieving conditions on the ship. As you know, I'm about to open Nathan's for tavern business. I could use a man or two indentured to help in the tavern. A man with a peg leg, for instance, who has experience as a barman, would be grateful to be working from morning to night every day on land rather than laying around in your hold."

Timothy was building Douglas Bester up as a likely candidate. He knew that Bester's family ran a tavern in Philadelphia and Bester had experience behind a bar.

"I don't know," Calvert said.

And then Timothy applied the pièce de résistance. "This would not need to go to the British counsels for approval. They don't keep track of the men individually, do they? The money need not go to them either. It could go to you."

"I will consider it," Calvert said. To prevent the giving of reasons why it wouldn't work, Timothy rolled over on top of Calvert, took the ship officer's mouth in his, positioned himself on Calvert's reinvigorated cock, and sank his channel on it.

Calvert provided two peg-legged former bartenders from among the prisoners for employment at the newly opening Nathan's tavern before he got to Douglas Bester. Timothy was determined to have Douglas, however, and between them, Timothy and Samuel Fraunces arranged for Samuel to offer Calvert more money for his personal purse than Timothy did for the services of those initially released. Eventually, Douglas was released to Timothy's care and employment, with Calvert believing he had identified the man to send.

Even missing a leg, Douglas still proved to be the man who could fuck Timothy to heaven better than any other. And, as well as bartending, he proved to be a boon in the upper male brothel rooms as well. Some men came to Nathan's to be fucked by a talented stud. They didn't all come to put their dicks in a young man.

* * * *

June 1777

There were three of them on the widow's walk of Nathan's tavern to watch the HMS Yarmouth sail out of New York harbor. It hadn't released the prisoners it held and it wasn't going for good. It was taking a training sail up to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and back. It had been wallowing at anchor at New York for too long and the British had decided its crew needed toning up.

"Poor blighters," Douglas Bester said, with a sigh. "The sailing will be rough on the prisoners below."

Timothy Grady reached over and put a consoling hand on Douglas' arm. He knew that his friend and lover could deeply empathize with the plight of the prisoners on the ship, and he sure as hell was glad that Douglas wouldn't be suffering that fate. For once, no one from the ship had told Timothy the Yarmouth was going to sail. He and Samuel Fraunces, the other man standing on the widow's walk, were well aware that the British had been cracking down on the passing of rumors and not-really-rumors around lower Manhattan and that they were ever more vigilant for spies. So, the officers Timothy and his lads serviced on the Yarmouth and Asia had been tight-lipped about British intentions, and Timothy had been careful not to show any curiosity. It was like a cat-and-mouse game. But he didn't have to pull information out of men on the ships. Douglas had overheard sailors from the Yarmouth talking in the tavern about the impending sailing.

"This should give us a breather," Timothy said.

"But it should not encourage us to let our guard down," Samuel responded. "In fact, for a time we should be ever more circumspect, and after this I should keep to my tavern and you to yours. I fear the British will ferret us out before long."

"I've been thinking about that, and the sailing of the Yarmouth aids in what I've been considering doing."

"And what be that?" Samuel asked. He looked to Douglas to see if perhaps Timothy had already discussed this with his soldier lover, and the look he got back not only told Samuel that it had been discussed with the colonialist lieutenant but also that Bester agreed with Timothy.

"I think it's time that we found General Washington's headquarters and passed on information on the British movements directly—and also that Douglas disappear. It will be easier to accomplish with the Yarmouth gone. I paid Calvert for two months ahead in the fee on Douglas. It will take him the sailing to Halifax and back and then who knows how much longer for him to realize we are gone."

"But then won't there be hell to pay?" Samuel asked.

"I will arrange for the bookkeeper at Nathan's to tell Calvert that I have gone to Connecticut to tend to sick relatives. Then, until General Washington decides to send me back, I can say that there was too much maneuvering of opposing forces between here and there for me to return before I did. The bookkeeper will say that Douglas escaped after I left and hasn't been found. Calvert couldn't raise a hue and cry over Douglas' escape. I'm sure he hasn't reported Douglas was released from the Yarmouth, and the British probably aren't keeping records on individual prisoners anyway."

"And you agree with this?" Samuel turned and asked Douglas.

"Aye, I do," Douglas said. "They have closed down on leaking of information here. And General Howe has abandoned the lower city, so there's little intelligence on British intentions and movements to have here, I'm afraid. We both may be more useful elsewhere."

Samuel said nothing to this. As good a man as Bester was, missing a leg didn't make him more helpful anywhere else than where he now stood behind a bar in a tavern, keeping his eyes and ears open. But neither of these men worked for Samuel—they worked directly for Major Lathrop, who probably didn't even know they were continuing to work. If they left, they increased Samuel's own chances of not being captured if they were, so there wasn't anything else he'd say to them about their plans.

"There is another reason we should try to link up with General Washington's headquarters," Douglas said.

"Douglas, are you sure Samuel should know what we've heard?" Timothy asked.

"Is it about the rumors that Howe is preparing his troops to move north? To meet troops led by John Burgoyne coming down from Canada to take Albany?" Samuel asked. And then when he saw the surprise on the faces of the other two men, he added, "Have you heard too that Howe is actually planning on moving on Philadelphia instead? I have drunken British sailors and soldiers in my tavern whispering what they should not, as well. I was protecting you from knowing in case you were questioned. And I see that you had ferreted out the information too and were protecting me."