By the end of the week, Washington had decided that Ben and Hamilton's strategy looked the most promising. However, it was not official. First, they had to see if Ben's idea would work.
Ben said that they could convince Clinton that the Continental Army would attack New York without moving a single one of their soldiers. His plan was to used Mrs. Barnes. Rather than arrest her, he would write a letter. Molly and Anna managed to get more information from Mary throughout the week; but she was still being closely watched by Mrs. Barnes.
From what Mary had said, Mrs. Barnes had spent most of her time focusing on the nonexistent affair between Ben and Anna. She believed that Ben would slip up and reveal something to his mistress rather than his wife. So, that's what Ben intended to do. They would have Mary pass on the false intelligence to Mrs. Barnes soon.
Molly and Anna were in Ben's tent. He was at his desk writing, Anna was slowly pacing, and Molly was sat at the table drinking coffee. They had purposely kept the details vague from Anna, mostly because they knew she would question their judgement. But it didn't matter. She was still pacing nervously, trying to second guess their plan.
"Maybe Clinton will call on troops to fortify the city." Ben offered, trying to reassure her.
"If he believes the letter." Anna countered.
"He will."
"What did you write in it that was so compelling?"
"Oh, it's, nothing of importance."
Anna stopped, and turned to face him.
"Then why the secrecy?" she asked.
Ben glanced over at Molly. She hid her smirk by taking another drink of coffee.
"Well, if you must know," he said slowly, "it's a love letter."
"From?"
"From me… to you."
Anna's grin faded in an instant. She looked at Molly.
"This was your idea?" she asked.
Molly shook her head.
"Not mine."
"No, it was mine." Ben admitted. "Well, mine and Mary's. You said yourself there was gossip. I merely wrote to what Ann Bates already believed."
Anna's anxieties disappeared once she heard that, and she actually smiled.
"Well, now you have to tell me something." She said playfully. "How much experience do you have writing love letters? Are you sure it's convincing?"
Ben looked away, and Molly could tell he was trying to hide the fact he was blushing.
Although they had been together a long time, Molly and Ben rarely shared details of their relationship with others. Because they were so private, people who knew them tended not to ask questions. It was easier than way.
"I read it." Molly said. "It's convincing enough."
"If you don't mind my asking, did you two ever…?"
Molly found herself grinning as well. It had been a long time since she had joked with her sister-in-law, and she had forgotten how much fun they used to have.
"I was never very good at them. But Ben…" Molly bit her lip.
"What?
She knew she had said too much. If she didn't stop now, she knew she would burst out laughing.
"Well, you have to tell me now." Anna pushed.
"He used to write them exclusively in Latin."
Ben shot her a look, but he was smiling as well. He felt better to see that she was blushing as deeply as he was.
"They sounded better in Latin." He tried to defend himself.
"Debatable."
Ben had studied languages at university, and he became nearly fluent in Latin during his time there. He had been fond of the language ever since.
"You speak Latin?" Anna asked.
"No. It was his excuse so we could spend more time together. He would teach me Latin so I could read what he wrote."
"In my defense," Ben countered, "we were both very bored that summer."
The summer of '74, when they first became engaged.
"Besides," he added. "I remember you became rather proficient in Latin."
"I did. Don't remember much of it now though."
"Mendax."
It was Latin for liar.
She took another drink to stop herself from smiling wider. The truth was, that summer, she had become almost as fluent in Latin as Ben was. She hadn't used the language in years, but she still remembered most of it. But Ben still knew, and she was glad they could have their own secrets.
September 1781
It took two weeks before the Continental Army heard word from their scouts, but one thing was certain: British forces were traveling North. And that's when Washington made his move. Within two days, most of the army was packed, and they were preparing to march South.
"Where are we going?" Molly asked when they first began packing.
But Ben admitted that he didn't know either. All he knew was that they were marching South.
No one knew their exact destination, and Ben said that's what Washington wanted. Regardless, Molly still asked around camp, but everyone had a different answer.
They had been marching for months now. It was taking them far longer than anyone would've liked. But the army itself was responsible for their delay. Initially, the army marched along the Hudson River, around York City and into New Jersey. As they neared Philadelphia, where the Continental Congress was, another mutiny was staged.
The army was forced to set up a temporary encampment, and it took nearly a month for things to get sorted out. The soldiers who mutinied demanded pay before they made they march further South. The bill Selah had been working on years ago still hadn't been approved, but he was still in Congress, and he was still fighting or it to be enacted.
Molly still wasn't sure how he managed it, but Washington went directly to Congress and managed to scrape together the funds. And they continued South once more. They were currently in northern Virginia. The army had set up a new temporary encampment in Alexandria, which was just outside of Washington's personal estate, Mount Vernon. He had decided to delay their trip a little longer by visiting home. And they were still at that encampment.
"Oi, what's your man doing here?"
Molly looked up from her work. She had been doing laundry all morning with a few of the other women. She watched as Benjamin Tallmadge began to zigzag through the camp followers' portion of camp. He kept stopping to speak with a woman here and there, and each time, they pointed him in a different direction.
"Looking for your missus?" the woman beside her called out.
Ben looked in their direction. He seemed startled, but he shook off the feeling and began to approach them.
"We need to talk. But not here." He said to her under his breath.
She nodded.
"I'll be right back." She said, abandoning her washboard in the washbasin,
The two women she left behind made a few crude comments as they walked way, but she ignored them.
"Should I fetch Mary and Anna as well?"
He shook his head, but he didn't speak again until they had wandered away from the tents and deeper into the woods. He kept them partially hidden behind a tree. He kept looking around to ensure they hadn't been followed.
"Read this." He said, producing a letter from his coat pocket.
She skimmed over it briefly, but her eyebrows quickly furrowed in confusion. The letter was written in French.
"I don't—" she began, but he brushed her off.
"Keep reading."
She didn't speak French, but she did as he asked. Finally, towards the middle of the page, one name stood out. Culper.
"Oh, my God." She breathed. "Is it really…?"
He nodded.
"But-but we still haven't heard word from—"
He pointed to another part of the page, she looked and saw another familiar name: Brewster. She looked back up at him and laughed aloud.
"He did it."
They were both smiling now.
"He did."
"So, they're with this man. With this," she glanced at the signature at the end of the letter, "Lafayette?"
She recognized his name. He was one of the French high command. She remembered Hamilton talking fondly of him.
"Aye." He tried to say more but she cut him off.
"Wait, what of John Champe? Is he with them as well?"
She scanned over the letter again, but she didn't see his name anywhere.
"Caleb wrote to me separately. Said that Champe managed to find one of our regiments in the South. He said he's going to stay there, unless he has orders to return." Ben shook his head, wanting to change the subject. "But Caleb and Abe's health are not the reason Lafayette wrote to the General. It seems Abe was doing much more than just pretending to be a redcoat."
"What do you mean?"
"He managed to snag a copy of battle plans from Arnold's desk."
"What?"
"Washington has already decided to march into the trap. Make the redcoats think their plan will be successful. But what they don't know is that Washington and Rochambeau are splitting their forces, and they're going to reconvene at the sight. And we'll have French naval support as well. Lafayette will meet us there."
Her mind was still whirling from all the information. From what he was saying, all of this was going to happen soon. The wheels were already in motion.
"Wait," she stammered, "where is this going to happen?"
"Yorktown."
She remembered seeing it on one of the maps in his tent.
"By the Chesapeake Bay?"
"Aye."
She scrunched her nose in confusion, and half-laughed.
"Wait, didn't you say General Cornwallis is there?"
He nodded, and her expression fell. The thought came to her.
"Wait, but if the army meets them there, that means nearly all our forces will be in one spot."
"Aye."
That's when she realized that, although he was composed, he was nervous. She asked slowly.
"And Washington still wants to proceed?"
He nodded. They both knew what that meant. If anything went wrong; it something went wrong, and Washington was forced to surrender… This battle could very well mean the end of the war. As for who the victor would be, that was still up in the air. But, they did know one thing: if they lost, they'd be hanged.
"When do we leave?"
September 20, 1781
Yorktown, Virginia - Allied Camp
The Continental Army had only set up a camp a short time ago. And the battle was imminent. Everyone was making preparations. There was a feeling of excitement and tension in camp. It was the kind of excitement that felt like nausea.
Molly had spent all morning pitching additional tents. Washington was still adamant about secrecy, so they were pitching far more than they needed to so they could hide their supplies. She was walking back to Mr. Sackett's cart, where Anna and Mary were, when she recognized a shape in the distance.
It was Thomas. He was running between the rows of tents. She didn't think much of it. Tomas was nearly six years old now. He often played chase with the other children in the camp followers' section of camp. Molly stumbled slightly when she noticed a familiar figure chasing after Thomas. It wasn't a child. It was a man.
"Abraham?"
She called out, but he didn't pay her any attention. She ran after him.
As she got nearer, it was definitely him. She recognized his voice.
"Either you're getting quick or I'm getting slow!" He laughed.
Thomas was running directly for Mr. Sackett's cart as well. Abe caught up to him right as they got to the cart, and he scooped up his son.
"Come here, ah! Got you! Let me look at you!"
He laughed again and turned in a circle, and that's when he saw Molly catch up with them. They looked at each other for a second. And then a wide grin broke out on Molly's face.
"It is you!"
She rushed forward to hug him, slightly crushing Thomas between them as they did so.
"It's been a long time." Abe said.
He looked over her up and down for a moment. He really didn't know what to say, and she didn't either. It had been two years. But they didn't have to say anything, because at that same time, Mary and Anna emerged from inside the cart.
"Abraham?" Mary asked in disbelief.
"Hi."
Molly stepped back and Abe pulled Mary into a hug now, Thomas still in his arms. And then they were all talking at once.
Abe to Mary: "Are you all right?" And Mary nodded.
Anna: "You made it back in one piece."
Abe: "Not for lack of trying."
She was going to say more, but she quickly found her attention being diverted elsewhere.
"Howdy."
Molly jumped at the sudden voice, feeling two arms snake around her waist. She turned slightly, and right behind her was Caleb Brewster. She turned around in his grip and threw her arms around him.
"Glad to see I was missed." He chuckled.
She pulled away and hit him on the arm, but she was smiling too. That's when she noticed Ben was there as well.
"How long have you been back?" she asked.
"Only just got here. Had to go find Tallboy though, and tell him the news."
"I've been worried sick. Why did you tell me you were leaving?"
He shrugged, brushing off the question.
"How are you?" she asked, her tone becoming more serious.
He was having trouble keeping his smile at bay. "I shot him, Moll. I shot Simcoe."
She opened her mouth to respond, but she was in shock. She couldn't believe it.
"Is he—?"
"No," Caleb admitted. "Not dead. But Woody says he was hurt pretty bad last time he saw him."
If it was different, she knew the news would've annoyed her. She wished Simcoe was dead. But presently, she didn't mind the news. If he was injured that badly, he would be out of the war until he could recover – if he could recover. She accepted that this was the only vindication they would likely get. And from Caleb's expression, she knew he had done the same.
"So much for Samuel Culper, eh?" Ben asked.
He was having a different conversation with Anna, Mary, and Abe.
Abe shrugged. "Well, I never liked him anyway."
"Well, whenever you're ready."
"Yeah, just give me a moment alone with my wife."
"Of course."
The small group of them walked away from the sutler cart.
"Ready for what?" Molly asked.
"Woody's been keeping tabs on Arnold and the other bloodybacks' troop numbers and supplies." Caleb said.
"Aye," Ben agreed. "Even with those battle plans he snagged, he knows more about the British defenses here than anyone else."
Later, Molly would learn that General Arnold had become quite fond of Abe. He used to allow him into more meetings than he should've. Arnold was no different than he had been in the Continental Army; he was always trying to make a profit.
Since Abe was a farmer and since Abe's father did business with other British officers, Arnold often asked for Abe's advice. Abe said that in southern Virginia, Arnold's forced seized tons of gunpowder from the Continental Army. But then Arnold ordered it dumped into the sea, in order save room on his wagons and boats for goods he could resell.
"They won't have enough gunpowder for a siege." Ben told her later.
They didn't say anything more, but they were thinking the same thing: They might come out of Yorktown victorious.
October 14, 1781
It had been eighteen days since Molly had seen anyone. She and Mary volunteered to help in the medical tents during the battle. They were constantly swamped by the sheer number of injured soldiers and casualties.
As far as she knew, the army had remained organized enough during the fighting, but back at camp, she had no idea what was happening. The only information was what she got from the injured soldiers. And all their stories were spotty, for most of them had been fighting at separate front lines of the same battle.
From what she had heard, she understood why the battle had been raging on for so long. The British took the town of Yorktown and were using that as their primary headquarters. All along the perimeter of the town, and along the battlefield, the British had created manmade redoubts, but pushing the earth into mounds to give them the advantage of the high ground. They had positions sharpened pieces of wood around the redoubts to mimic a phalanx and prevent the Patriots from rushing their position.
Molly heard that at nights, Washington had ordered some of the soldiers to begin constructing trenches that ran alongside the redoubts themselves. It was dark and foggy, and the British lacked the gunpowder, so they could work all night in little danger. By morning, the rebel soldiers would be positioned far closer to the redoubts, and their new position would delay the British artillery fire as they tried to reposition their cannons.
She heard word from the newest arrivals to the medical tent that redoubts nine and ten were set to be overtaken at any time. And then the army could push forward into Yorktown itself, and take the town, and what British soldiers were still there.
She could hear the sounds of gunfire – both from the battlefield and from the naval war where Lafayette was commanding – outside of the medical tent. It was hot and musty, and Molly's hands and the front of her dress were stained with blood. As soon as a doctor finished assessing each patient, he would either begin a surgery right then and there, or he would simply remove a bullet and tell one of the volunteers to sew up the soldiers' wounds.
She was sewing up a bullet wound on a soldier when she noticed a small figure pass by her. She did a doubletake.
"Thomas?"
She told the soldier she would be right back, and then she followed after her friends' son. He wasn't supposed to be here. A few of the camp followers volunteered to watch all the children during the battle. But it seems he wandered off.
The tent was crowded enough, and she slipped past doctors, and stepped over a few soldiers who was laying on the ground, as she followed after the boy. He didn't seem fazed by any of this though. He stopped when he reached his mother on the other side of the tent. She was holding town a soldier while the doctor was amputating the man's leg.
Molly watched Thomas tug on his mother's skirts.
"Thomas, I told you to wait outside." She scolded.
Molly was beside them now.
"I'll take him outside." She said, moving to pick him up.
"Papa's here."
"No, papa's not."
Thomas nodded and pointed across the tent. The blood drained from both of the women's faces as they turned. Sure enough, there on one of the cots laid Abraham Woodhull.
"Abe? Abraham?!"
Mary grabbed Thomas and rushed over to be near him. Molly took over for her, holding the man down while the doctor finished the amputation. The man below her was groaning loudly. He was only partially sedated, so he was struggling against Molly's grip.
Molly kept turning her head, to see what was happening. She saw that Abe was still conscious. Mary removed the bullet from the wound in his shoulder, and then, with shaky hands, she began to sew him up.
It was night. Molly was sat outside of the medical tent, draining a bottle of alcohol. She was still covered in a sheen of sweat, and she was exhausted. She had been out there for some time, listening to the distant gunfire. She was drinking because she was trying to stop her hands from trembling. But they wouldn't. She hadn't seen Ben or Caleb in days, and as far as she knew, either of them could've been injured like Abe. They could even be dead.
She glanced up when she realized that someone was sitting down beside her. It was Mary Woodhull. She wordlessly took the bottle from Molly and took a drink.
"How is he?"
"The doctor says he'll be fine. Just a bit sore for a few weeks."
She feigned a smile. The sat there for several minutes passing the bottle back and forth.
"I almost forgot, Anna wanted me to show you this." Mary finally said, producing a folded newspaper from the pocket of her skirts. She handed her two sections of two different newspapers.
They hadn't seen Anna in a few days as well. When he trenches were finally dug, she volunteered to be a pitcher girl and bring water to the men and cannons alike.
"Look here."
Both newspapers were dated as being the same issue. The paper was dated nearly three weeks ago. Mary opened each paper so that they were on the same page; the page had a chart with flag symbols and meanings.
"Are these—?"
"Yes. The flag signals for the British ships. The ones the navy is using now."
While it was not a flawless system, it was a clever way to get the information to officers in a timely manner.
The chart included flag colors and what their positioning meant when they were flown at certain times. Molly's eyebrows furrowed together as she looked more closely at the charts. Although the newspapers were from the same issue, the charts were different. The organization of the flag colors and their meaning was scrambled.
That doesn't make sense. Molly told herself.
If each paper was slightly different, then this was not merely a printer's error. It was intentionally done. Someone had purposely rearranged the chart's position for each copy. But who could've… Molly stopped and looked at the newspaper heading. The Royal Gazette. These were papers from Rivington's.
Molly felt a smile tugging on her lips. For the past nearly three weeks, she kept hearing news about the battle happening in the Chesapeake Bay. From what she'd heard, the British navy – part of the most powerful navy in the world – was losing more ships than the rebels could keep track of.
Robert did this. Culper Jr. He's got the British navy running around in circles.
October 23, 1781
The British flew the white flag of surrender on Thursday October 18. It took a few days for both armies to reorganize, but when they did, they met on the battlefield one final time. The Continental Army was lined up on either side of the rows of redcoats marching to surrender. No one was excluded from witnessing the surrender. The entire camp was there; soldiers and camp followers alike.
As the British neared Washington's position, the military drummers were playing Rule Britannia! The crowd heard an accented voice call out an order.
"Play Yankee Doodle."
It was General Lafayette who gave the order. The Continental drummers complied and began playing Yankee Doodle on their drums and fifes. The British band ceased their playing almost instantly.
"Halt!"
The Continental band ceased their playing as well and the redcoats halted, as one of the men leading the march stepped forward with a sword in his hands. He turned towards where Washington was and held out the sword. But he was not offering it to Washington; as a sign of disrespect, he was offering it to the French high commander beside Washington. It didn't matter though, because the British had already disrespected themselves.
"Is it in the habit of General Cornwallis not to attend an official surrender?" Washington asked.
"I'm afraid the general has fallen ill. He sends his deepest apologies."
This man was not General Cornwallis. Cornwallis, one of the British high command, refused to face Washington for the surrender, and he had sent a soldier in his place. Washington knew just as well as everyone how cowardly an act that was. And Washington's tone became harsher because of it.
"Nearly four years ago to this day, General Gates accepted General Burgoyne's sword at Saratoga. Today, the American and French alliance is honored to accept yours."
The soldier finally offered the sword to Washington. And then two more of the redcoats stepped forward to surrender for British flags. Once the offerings were accepted, the soldiers began marching once more. They were well aware they were now to be prisoners of war.
"Forward march!"
As the redcoats passed by Washington and the remaining lines of the Continental Army, each individual soldier surrendered their musket. They threw them into a pile that one grew as they continued their forward march.
Unbeknownst to everyone, the redcoats' defeat here would begin the negotiations between the colonies and England. The war was over.
Author's Note: As I've said before, the show turned into a speedrun during the last couple of episodes, and the timeline was a lot wonkier than the show let on. Because I can, the details I'm including about how long marches took/the mutiny during the march from VA to Yorktown/exact dates are all historically accurate. Also, I've been pleasantly surprised by how much I've managed to have Hamilton appear in these last couple of chapters.
On a different note, I was today years old when I learned that it's "unfazed", not "unphased"... As much as I would like to have this be grammatically flawless, it also be like that sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
