Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 By the second week of August, there were about twenty thousand American soldiers in the camps in and around New York City, with more arriving every day. The Americans had built ten big forts on Manhattan Island, and six more across the river in Brooklyn. Each fort had a rough building surrounded by tall dirt-and-stone walls and deep trenches. The walls were topped with cannons.

The men felt ready for battle. But still the British didn't attack. Rumors swirled. They heard about a new kind of cannonball called a shell. It exploded when it hit the ground. Spies reported that there were now more than 430 British ships anchored off nearby Staten Island, and at least forty thousand soldiers. And not all of them were Redcoats. King George had hired eight thousand German soldiers to fight alongside the British. They were known as Hessians. Hessians! The men whispered the word, like it was a curse. "They're professional killers from Germany," Paul explained. Hessians were famous around the world for their dark green-and-red uniforms, their pointed silver hats, their thick black mustaches — and their thirst for blood. They began training when they were five years old. They fought mostly with

their bayonets, which were twice as long as the ones the British used. Nate couldn't tell if the stories were completely true. He thought of the legends Papa and the men used to tell, about giant squid and whales that swallowed ships. The Hessians sounded more like storybook monsters than real-life soldiers. But there was no mistaking the fear in the men's eyes. But there was something even more dangerous than Hessians, and it was lurking right in the

camp. Nate discovered it on a boiling afternoon. The men were on a marching drill, and Nate was alone in the camp doing his chores. The weather was beastly hot. The sun beat down. Mosquitos attacked them at night. And the usual camp smells turned into an unbearable stink. The most stomach-turning odors rose up from the open latrine pits where the men — and Nate — all did their private business. Some days Nate felt sure his nose would burn right off. Nate was taking a break from chopping wood. He took a swig from the tin canteen James had given him. And then he heard a strange sound, like an animal was crying out in pain. Nate looked around, thinking it was one of the cats that chased rats around the camp. He heard the sound again, and he realized it was coming from inside one of the tents. It was James's tent.

Nate remembered that James had been ill yesterday. There were always gut sicknesses and fevers sweeping through the camp. Nate figured James had one of those. Nate stood outside the tent. "James?" he said. "It's Nate. Are you all right?" Silence. More moaning. Nate's heart pounded as he stuck his head through the tent flap. And then he lurched back in horror. There was someone on the ground — it had to be James. Except it didn't look like James — or even a human being. Hundreds and hundreds of hideous blisters boiled all over his face. His arms and chest were covered, too. It was smallpox, the most dreaded disease of all. It was the disease that stole Nate's mama all those years ago. It had almost killed Nate, too. Nate pushed away his fear and disgust. He went inside and knelt next to James. He took James's hand. It was burning hot.

"James," Nate said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Go away," James rasped. "You'll get sick." "I had it already," Nate said, taking the young man's hand. Having smallpox once — if it didn't kill you — meant you couldn't get it again. Almost half the people who got the disease died. Some came through, but were badly scarred. Eliza had scars on her cheeks. Theo had them all over his back. Nate didn't need a doctor to tell him that James was dying. He said a prayer and then rushed to find help. He returned with Paul and Martin, who were both safe from smallpox. Nate helped them bring James to the hospital. James died that night. Captain Marsh led a service for him. All of the men shed tears for that kind and generous man. The weeks ticked by. Nate became more and more restless. He worried that other men would