Sophia's War by Avi Read Free Book Online

so many people reestablished, city trade began to resume its normal business. But in all things, the army held hardfisted control.
    In short, this was a time of much confusion for me. I was a patriot, eager for good news about our side. I worried constantly about my brother, William. Simultaneously, I was excited by what I took to be the special attentions John André had for me.
    He took me to watch the guard changing. He showedme where Lord Howe was living, at the foot of Broadway. Side by side, we watched Punch and Judy puppets on the street (Punch in an American uniform), and laughingly applauded the Devil (Benjamin Franklin!) dragging Punch to Hell.
    André read me poetry, some of it his. He even offered to take me to a soldiers’ ball. I was all eagerness, but when he made application to my mother, she, to my mortification, said no. I retreated in a pout.
    Let it be admitted: if a twelve-year-old girl has enough heart, it does not take her long to think of herself as being in love. I daresay I liked the thought of myself—for the first time—in such a bemused and pleasant state. Of course, I had no friends left in whom to confide. So I told no one—neither John André nor my mother—of my emotions. Moreover, I allowed myself to think he fancied me. Why, he even wrote a poem for me.
    No matter how young the flower
    Which has yet to burst to bloom,
    The time will come, its finest hour
    When she’ll be prettiest in my room.
    Simple to be sure, but though I kept it hidden in a secret place, you can imagine how regularly I read it.
    Let me be forthright: I was perfectly aware that a war was going on. I considered myself an ardent patriot. Yet, I must confess, I began to think of my brother, William, as a problem . What if he—about whom John André knew nothing—suddenly appeared? How would the lieutenant deal with a rebel soldier in our midst?How would I deal with it? Would William attack André? These questions gave me moments of perplexity and confusion. More shame on me! But though William did not appear, in fairness to me, he was frequently in my thoughts.
    That said, there I was—a twelve-year-old girl—feeling real affection for one of the enemy. And early affection, as I would learn, lasts late.

13
    NOVEMBER 1776 CAME , and with it the airborne chill of arriving winter. With still no news about my brother, we began to fear the worst. Perhaps William had died in the Brooklyn battle. That being such an awful thing to contemplate, we chose to believe otherwise. After all, if he were safe with General Washington’s army, he would have no means of communicating with us. Living in occupied New York, we were quite sealed off from the rest of the country. No, I refused to think him gone. But while I adored my brother, I was aware how much my esteem for John André grew. Though my emotions remained in a state of constant flux, I worked hard to keep them silent. You can imagine my puzzledom!
    Then, on the sixteenth of November, we learned that the one place still held by American forces on Manhattan Island—Fort Washington, in the north—had fallen to a fierce British siege.
    The news spread rapidly. Some fifty-nine Americans killed. Almost three thousand taken prisoner! Now all of Manhattan Island was in British hands. That, theEnglish wished us to know. Everything for our cause seemed to be going ill.
    Though I had heard on the streets the news of the fort’s surrender, John André took pleasure in telling us about it. He went further, assuring us that the war would be over soon and all political disputes settled in a proper, legal fashion. Britain would be supreme again. The king’s peace would be the order of the day. “How much better for everyone,” he proclaimed.
    Wishing to offer a mild tease, I rejoined, “Perhaps we’ll have our Arnold come down Hudson’s River and chase you all away.”
    â€œArnold?” he replied.