Robert J. Skead - Patriots, Redcoats and Spies

) says:

I enjoyed Patriots, and Spies immensely. What a great read! I've been thinking about it all week. I am biased toward the subject and cause, but I suspect that even boys and girls with no such loyalties will find it compelling and enjoyableand that it will cause them to want to know more about the American Revolution. This deserves to be widely read, for it will do our country and the history of its origins the important service of sparking curiosity about the War for Independence and the people who sacrificed so much to secure Americas autonomy as a nation.

ZONDERKIDZ

Patriots, Redcoats and Spies

Copyright 2015 by Robert J. Skead

ePub Edition January 2015: ISBN 978-0-310-74836-6

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zonderkidz, 3900 Sparks Drive SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skead, Robert, author.

Patriots, Redcoats and spies : a Revolutionary War adventure / written by Robert J. Skead with Robert A. Skead.

pages cm

Summary: When Revolutionary War patriot Lamberton Clark is shot by the British, he enlists the help of his twin fourteen-year-old sons, John and Ambrose, to get a secret letter to General George Washington.

ISBN 978-0-310-74841-0 (hardback) ISBN 978-0-310-74836-6 (epub)

1. United StatesHistoryRevolution, 1775-1783Juvenile fiction. [1. United StatesHistoryRevolution, 1775-1783Fiction. 2. SpiesFiction. 3. BrothersFiction. 4. TwinsFiction. 5. Christian lifeFiction.] I. Skead, Robert A., author. II. Title.

PZ7.S62582Pat 2015

[Fic]dc22

2014031675

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Cover design: Deborah Washburn

Cover and interior illustration: Wilson Ong

Interior design and composition: Greg Johnson/Textbook Perfect

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 /DCI/ 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

FOR MY FATHER

Thank you for the endless hours of genealogy you spent proving we are in the Clark family bloodline and Sons of the American Revolution, for instilling in me a love for our nation and history and for your outstanding creativity with this story. You never cease to amaze me. What a joy it is to do this book series with you!

CONTENTS

Long Island, New York
July 1777

J ohn Clark didnt know which was worse: that he could barely see where he was going or that his heart was pounding so fast he thought it might pop out of his chest. With trembling hands, he shoved aside the tall reeds as he struggled to maneuver his way through the darkness and the fog. I should never have listened to you, he gasped to his twin brother as they ran.

Ambrose stumbled over an invisible lump in the ground and nearly fell. Why is it always my fault? he panted.

Because it always is!

Their father, Lamberton, brought up the rear, gliding soundlessly through the fog. Its both your faults, he said through clenched teeth. You will never follow me again. I will see to that.

John glanced back. The darkness hid the look he knew his father gave them. If only he had followed his gut, not listened to his brother, and stayed on the mainland as his father had ordered. Then their lives wouldnt be in danger. They wouldnt be running through the dark, desperately searching for their boat while the enemy closed in.

As if in response to his thoughts, a shot rang out. John dove to the ground. His father and brother landed inches from him as a ball cut through the reeds a few feet away.

Too close. Closing his eyes, John tried to still his heaving chest and waited for another shot. Would this be the one that met its mark?

I dont want to die. God, help me. Help us.

Silence. He opened his eyes again to see his father nodding at him. With a deep breath, John bolted to his feet and raced through the tall grass towards the water. His father and brother matched every step.

Hurry up, brother, came Ambroses trembling voice. Im almost running you over.

Im going as fast as I can. Eyes straining, John searched the fog for his fathers sailboat. His legs burned as he summoned his last bit of strength and leaped over a small gulley. A film of sweat covered his forehead and body.

Please God, lift this fog, if only for a moment. A soft splish rose from his next step. Were at the waters edge, he hissed. Were close!

The three slowed down, their footsteps gently padding along the shore as they searched the mist for the shape of their boat. They were running out of time.

Another shot rang out. It sliced through the grass about two feet to Johns left. The two Redcoats were trying their luck. Shooting in the dark.

They cant run and reload at the same time in this marsh, their father whispered. Thats good.

Patriot pig! Ill kill you! shouted a voice behind them. The soldier sounded to be about fifty yards away. Too close.

A second voice followed. If he doesnt, I will!

They think theres only one of us, said Ambrose with a shaky grin.

Their father nodded. Thats why they only sent two men after us... or me.

Its the fog. John peeked over his shoulder. No one could be seen. The Redcoats had surely stopped running and were reloading. If they survived, their fathers punishment for their impatience and disobedience would surely be severe. John picked up speed again along the rocky shore and then stumbled, throwing out an arm. Ambrose caught and steadied him.

One lucky shot and one of us is dead or wounded, their father said. You boys stay in front of me. And stay low. His voice was tense. John felt sick to his stomach. How could he have gotten them into this mess?

The three continued along the shoreline, picking their way around rocks and weeds. Suddenly, a white light . It lay anchored somewhere close by, he was sure of it. He just couldnt see it. He rounded a gentle curve in the shoreline, and then there it was their boat, rocking gently on the waves about thirty feet away.

They entered the water, forcing themselves to slide slowly so they didnt splash. Seconds later, thick clouds hid the moon again.

Ambrose grabbed the rope attached to the anchor near the bow of the boat and gently pulled it up while Lamberton placed his left leg over the side of the boat and rolled himself inside. Ambrose dropped the anchor inside the hull as John heaved himself into the craft, followed a moment later by his brother. The two of them crouched against the hull of the boat and ducked their heads.

Guess well have to come back another day for the rowboat we borrowed, John whispered, locking eyes with his brother.