LITMIR.BIZ

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said Felicity impatiently. She grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her out the front gate, along the street, and across Market Square to the green next to the Magazine. A large crowd had gathered to watch the men muster.

      Felicity and Elizabeth wove their way through the crowd until they found Ben. Ben grinned when he saw Felicity. “I knew you’d come when you heard the drums,” he said. He pointed to the drummers. “Look. There’s Isaac.”

      Felicity saw Isaac with his drum. Just then the fife players began to pipe a sharp, lively tune. Isaac and the other drummers beat upon their drums. The men shouldered their guns and marched in rows behind the drummers. Little boys ran alongside, shouting with excitement. The men marched smartly across the green, in step with the drumbeats, their guns glinting in the sun. Felicity felt the drumbeats thunk in her stomach. The fife music gave her goose bumps on her arms. And when the men stopped, turned, and fired their guns into the air, Felicity’s heart jumped.

      “Oh!” exclaimed Elizabeth beside her. “Let’s go home!”

      Felicity turned to her in surprise. “But it’s so exciting!” she said.

      Elizabeth looked miserable. “I think it’s scary,” she said. “I’m going. Good-bye.” She ran off before Felicity could say another word.

      Felicity soon forgot everything as she stood next to Ben, watching and listening. She tried to name the drumbeats Isaac and the other drummers were playing. She counted the rows of men and studied the horses the officers rode. She sniffed the air. It was heavy with smoke and dust and the burnt tang of gunpowder.

      Felicity felt proud of the militia men. “They look fine, don’t they, Ben?” she said. “I know the men in the colonists’ militia are just citizens and not paid soldiers like the king’s soldiers. But they do look fine today.”

      Ben was so intent watching the muster that Felicity thought he did not hear her. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were wide.

      Then he nodded. “The militia has been practicing more often since March,” he said. “Militias in every county in Virginia have been practicing more. We have to be ready to defend ourselves.”

      “In a fight against the king’s soldiers?” asked Felicity.

      “Aye,” said Ben.

      Suddenly, it struck Felicity. She realized why Elizabeth was frightened. These men were not practicing just to make excitement. They were practicing to get ready to fight and to die if they had to. And whom would they have to fight? They would fight soldiers, real soldiers, British soldiers, the best soldiers in the world. These men might die because they did not want to be ruled by the King of England anymore. They were ready to give their lives to be independent. Then the argument against the king would no longer be about drinking tea or not drinking tea. It would be a matter of life and death. Felicity shivered. This time it was not a shiver of excitement. It was dread.

      Clouds covered the sun. As the muster was dismissed, a soft rain began to fall like a chilly veil. Felicity and Ben walked home quietly.

      “I wish more than anything I could join the militia like Isaac,” said Ben. “I’d give anything to be able to fight.” His voice was full of longing.

      Felicity looked over at him. “But you cannot join the militia, Ben,” she said. “You are an apprentice. Apprentices are not allowed to join. ’Tis in your agreement with Father. Is it not?”

      “Aye,” said Ben in a low voice. “I cannot join the militia as long as I am an apprentice. But…”

      “Ben!” Felicity said sharply. “You wouldn’t break your agreement with Father! He trusts you! You’d never run away, would you? You couldn’t.”

      Ben looked at her and said nothing.

      Felicity burst out. “You are our friend, Ben! You are part of our family. It wouldn’t be honorable to run away.”

      Ben gave Felicity a sad grin. “I won’t do anything while your grandfather is here,” he said. “Your grandfather would be furious.”

      “Aye,” said Felicity. “Grandfather has strict ideas. He…” Suddenly Felicity stopped stock still. “Oh no! Oh no!” she cried. “Grandfather! The guitar! Oh, Ben! I forgot! I forgot! I left the guitar at Elizabeth’s house!” Felicity grabbed Ben’s arm with both hands and spoke quickly. “I must run to the Coles’ and get the guitar. If Mother and Grandfather are home, tell them I am on my way! But don’t tell them about the guitar! They will be angry.”

      “Aye!” said Ben. “Run! Run fast!”

      Felicity took off as fast as her feet could go. Her heart pounded as she ran through the gray drizzle. If only she could sneak the guitar back home before Mother and Grandfather returned. Oh, how she wished she had not been so thoughtless!

      Felicity was a fast runner. In a few minutes, she reached the Coles’ house. She ran back to the garden and hurried toward the arbor where she had left the guitar. Ah! She panted with relief. There it was, propped against the bench just where she had left it. But when Felicity reached for the guitar, she saw someone coming. It was Mr. Cole and a British officer. Felicity did not want them to see her, so she ducked behind a bush. She hugged the guitar to her chest.

      The British officer was speaking in a serious voice. “The governor’s marines are about five miles away, at Burwell’s Landing on the James River,” said the officer. “They’ll come very late tonight and take the gunpowder out of the Magazine.”

      Felicity froze. She could not believe her ears.

      The officer went on, “Governor Dunmore will tell the people of Williamsburg that he heard rumor of a slave uprising. He’ll say the gunpowder was removed for the colonists’ own protection.”

      Mr. Cole spoke up. “The people will know that’s a lie and that the governor has stolen their gunpowder,” he said. “Everyone knows the governor is afraid the colonists will use the gunpowder to fight against him and our British soldiers. ’Tis sad indeed when the governor must stoop to such low deeds as lying and stealing.”

      The officer sounded angry. “I beg your pardon, sir!” he said.

      “Aye,” said Mr. Cole. “We must all beg pardon for what the governor is about to do. This will destroy any last shred of trust the colonists have in him. I am loyal to the king, but I am sorry to be involved in such deeds.” He sighed. “Very well, then,” he said to the officer. “You may go. I have received your report.”

      The two men walked away, but Felicity did not move. The British officer’s words echoed in her head. The marines are going to take the gunpowder tonight! She had to tell someone! They must be stopped! What on earth was she going to do? What could she possibly do?

      Felicity ran home holding the guitar close to her. She was full of fear and confusion.

      When Felicity stepped into the house, her heart sank. Mother, Father, and Grandfather all sat in the parlor. Felicity put the guitar behind her back.

      Mrs. Merriman looked up with a smile. “There you are, Lissie,” she said. “Were you playing with Posie? We shall…” She stopped. The smile faded from her face. “Felicity, what is the matter? You look a fright! And what do you have behind your back?” Mrs. Merriman came over to Felicity. “Why, it’s the guitar,” she said as she took it away. “And just look at it! The ribbon is torn through! The guitar is wet! Felicity! What have you done?”

      Felicity could not meet her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Truly I am. I meant no harm,” she said. “I just wanted Miss Manderly to tune it and…and I wanted Annabelle to see it.”

      “You took the guitar?” asked Mother. “But you were most clearly told not to take it out of this house. And how did it get so wet?”

      “Well, I…it was a mistake,” said Felicity. “I was playing it at Elizabeth’s house, and then we went to the muster,

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