The Red Cockade

By Mary Fremont Schoenecker

The year is 1776. British soldiers occupy Long Island and struggle begins for the Patriot farmers of Cow Neck. Fourteen year old Joseph Onderdonk yearns to join the Continental army with his best friend, Martin Freer, but his father refuses to allow it. Martin was like an older brother to Joseph before the Freer family moved to New York Island and the Revolution set the two friends on different paths. Vignettes of Martin's soldiering life are interspersed with Joseph's struggles at home to help the patriot cause. Joseph's loyalty is tested when his father, Adrian, is arrested and imprisoned for tyranny against the crown. A great fire rages in New York and Uncle Hendrick brings Joseph to the provost jail to atempt to rescue his father.The rescue proves Joseph's courage and wit. Martin is wounded in battle at White Plains and sent back to new york as a prisoner. When joseph's uncle reveals his membership in a group called Friends of Freedom, Joseph joins him in a daring scheme to spy on the British barracks as a wagoner. His exciting adventures bring real people and events to life during the first year of the American revolution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Fremont Schoenecker
• Release date: Sep 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311707581

Mary Fremont Schoenecker

I retired as Associate Professor of Education from SUNY College at Oneonta NY. to live with husband, Tom in Florida. I've been a fiction writer for the past 12 years. Published in 2006 by Five Star/Gale, my first book was a historical novel, FOUR SUMMERS WAITING It was given a second edition in LP by Thorndike Press. Next came a contemporary series, THE MAINE SHORE CHRONICLES The Chronicles are a cross between Romantic Suspense and Sweet Cozy Mystery. Books one, two,and three FINDING FIONA, MOONGLADE, and PROMISE KEEPER all received second editions in Large Print by Thorndike Press. SAFE HARBOR is a spin-off of the series, published in 2014. My readers enjoy the cross genre mix of my contemporary series and I hope they can enjoy Four Summers Waiting as an Ebook and a Trade Paperback edition(2016). My last book, A Paperback edition in 2017 is THE RED COCKADE. It is a Historical about a teenaged Patriot during the American Revolution, a book all ages will enjoy.

Book preview

THE RED COCKADE

By

Mary Fremont Schoenecker

A novella, The Red Cockade is the story of Joseph Onderdonk, a teen-aged Dutch Patriot who lived on a Long Island New York farm during the American Revolution. Vingnettes of Joseph’s friend, Martin, serving as a Continental soldier, are interspersed with the story of Joseph’s struggle to defend the cause of liberty at home.

First Edition

January 2016

CONTENTS

One: Cow Neck 1776

Two: Flight from Brooklyn Heights

Three: Plunder In Cow Neck

Four: The Pigsty

Five: North to Harlem Heights

Six: The Great fire

Seven: Rescue

Eight: Mistress Freer

Nine: Marching Orders

Ten: A Daring Scheme

Eleven:The Oyster Shell

Twelve:Beech Tree Inn

Thirteen:The Prison Ship

Fourteen: Shelter Rock

Fifteen: The Secret Room

Sixteen: Smallpox

Seventeen: Old Dutch Church

Eighteen: Martin’s Plan

Nineteen: Disguised

Twenty: Paulus Hook Ferry

Twenty-Two: Sons of Liberty

EPILOGUE

GLOSSARY

AUTHOR’S NOTE

CHAPTER ONE

Cow Neck 1776

KA-WANG. A shot rang out. I wheeled and stumbled, grabbing at a tree trunk to break my fall. The sound seemed to come from the woods behind me, so I started back the way I had come. Moving from tree to tree, I crouched low, listening and searching the shadows of the locust stand that sloped down to the shore. Nothing squealed or skittered. As I wiped sweat from my brow with my shirt sleeve a giant root caught my ankle, and I fell headlong into bushes, my gun jarred out of my hands. When I reached for the musket in the tangled undergrowth, startled birds flew from their nests. They screeched as they flew up, the whir of their wings beating into the trees over my head.

I sat back on my heels against a big locust, and rubbed my ankle. Resting father’s old gun across my knees, I ran my hand over the smooth hickory stock. Good for shooting rabbits, not very good for fighting Tories. KA-WANG. A second shot rang in the still air.

This time the sound was closer. Father! I shouted, the word echoing through the silent forest. I jumped up and ran, like a scared fox, twisting my way through the locusts until I reached sloping ground at the end of the grove. My breath came in gasps as I peered through the trees across our slip of land. I froze. Our farmhouse was surrounded by soldiers on horseback. Redcoats! Those were warning shots― Father fired a warning.

A soldier turned in his saddle, raised his sword and pointed at the door of my house. Bayonets and silver crests on black helmets glinted and flashed in the slanting sunlight as the soldiers dismounted and marched toward the door.

I bolted down the hillside, running through tall corn rows as fast as I could, then circled through the barnyard, my heart thundering. I ran first to the kitchen, a stone’s throw behind our farmhouse. Through the single small window I could see Mother and Sara huddled on the settle near the hearth, Chief, guarding at their feet. Satisfied that they looked unharmed, I raced up the path to the back door of the house.

With gun in hand, I burst through the door to the keeping room just as a red-coated soldier clumped down the stairs in a pair of spurred riding boots, holding a saber in his hand. The hair on the back of my neck prickled as my eyes lifted to a crest on his helmet―a death head with crossbones.

A scuffling of feet drew my attention to the far end of the room. My father stood at the hearth, guarded at gunpoint by two soldiers. I took one step toward them and a guard swung his musket, pointing it at me. My stomach knotted. I set my gun down slowly and stood stock-still.

Father’s mouth flattened into a grim line. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked back and forth from the soldiers to me.

The soldier near the stairway brushed past me thrusting his sword into the corners of the room. Nothing above stairs and nothing down here but this Rebel, he shouted as he crossed the room. He paused and pointed his sword at Father. Seize the man and we’ll be done with it.

Father’s eyes flashed fear. What is the reason for this? he asked.

Adrian Onderdonk, I have orders to arrest you for unlawful acts against the King. The officer turned to the door and raised the iron latch.

In two long strides I crossed the room and stepped up behind the tall soldier who gave the order. How can that be, sir? I asked. Who would have complained?

A long red plume on the officer’s helmet swirled as the soldier wheeled from the doorway to face me. His eyes narrowed. Foolish Dutch Reb to question the King’s authority. He pushed me back with the broad side of his sword, sheathed it, and pointed a finger at father. He’s accused as traitor, he jabbed his finger into my chest, and traitors hang for treason. If you try to follow us you’ll be the worst for it, and so will he.

My stomach churned as the soldiers pushed father ahead of them, out the door and down the path to their horses. ‘Traitors hang for treason’. I swallowed hard as the words echoed in my mind. Tears welled up in my eyes as the king’s soldiers tied father behind the officer’s horse. Light was slipping from the sky and dust churned in the air from the crashing hooves of the horses. I could no longer see father being led along the dirt road.

Tears came again as I thought about mother. I put my gun on pegs under the mantel, lit a candle and lantern with a spill from the hearth and brought the candle to the kitchen for Sara. I need to take care how I tell mother about the soldiers. I tried to keep my voice calm. Best you take mother inside now, Sara. I will not be long. Come Chief, I called to our dog, we’ve got horses to tend. I stomped out of the kitchen, holding the lantern high in the blackness of the barnyard, Chief following at my heels.

***

The corn-shuck mattress crackled as I tossed in my bed. Kawang. The warning shot echoed in my mind. Images flashed before my eyes. The Redcoat with the skull and crossbones on his helmet… soldiers marching father down the road in a cloud of dust…mother’s cries when I told her about the soldiers taking father away.

I tried to will my thoughts back to a happier time, before there were two figures to my age. In my mind’s eye my friend Martin was teaching me how to prime a musket, and showing me how to dig clams on the shore of Cow Bay. All of that was before Martin’s family moved from Cow Neck to New York, before my father chaired the Committee For Home Rule, and years before the Redcoats came to Long Island. Everything was peaceful then.

My eyes grew heavy and finally I drifted into sleep. The clinking thud of soldier’s boots and spurs echoed in a dream. Anguished cries from mother clashed with the muffled sound of soldiers marching. Marching in step with fife and drums, closing in on the Cow Neck Militia Company.

In my dream, I was in the militia, wading through marshes at Brooklyn Heights, my gun held high overhead. Bodies were floating in Gowanus Creek and dead soldiers were scattered on the hillside. Ahead was General Stirling’s Company of Continentals. Martin’s company.

Martin, I shouted. Musketry crackled behind me. Martin!

A cock crowed and my eyes flew open. I sat up muddled and sweaty. My dream of winning glory for the rebel cause faded into daybreak as pale yellow light slanted through the shutters.

No sound came from below stairs. It was almost sun-up and daybreak meant chores. I sat on the edge of the bed, pounding my fists into the covers. There has to be a way to find where they’ve taken father. I dressed quickly and clambered down the stairs.

CHAPTER TWO

Martin’s Flight from Brooklyn Heights

I could hear Joseph’s voice in my head as I marched with Cow Neck men on Flatbush Road. Tis almost like he was calling to me, ‘Martin.’ I knew it could not be my friend Peter, for I lost track of him as soon as the Hessians attacked. They charged at our front like wild green devils, wielding their bayonets like swords. No time for day dreams of Joseph, now. The dead lay like twisted jack straws in front of us as our line moved up.

My eyes tracked to a Hickory tree and widened at the sight. One of our Rebs was pinned to the tree by a bayonet, a green coated Hessian lay on the ground at the tree’s foot. I took no time to see that both were dead. We moved forward with barely time to level our muskets when Redcoats came at us.

Rifle shots and screams filled the air, mixed with the sound of horses and the boom of cannon from behind. British cavalry and Grenadiers were charging from the rear. We were caught in the middle!

I