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Episode 7

 

This brief story seemed to drain Peter of all his energy.  I felt like I should share a story of my own.  “Peter, I don’t know how to convince you that I am speaking the truth, but I know of a time when slavery will not be the rule of the land”.  Peter looked at me as if I was a child, and asked “In this time that you speak of, are men and women of all colors equally accepted by all?  Are men and women of all colors respected in all corners of the new land?”.   I couldn’t  raise my eyes to look at Peter, I softly mumbled, “No, not quite, not completely, but we’ve made great progress.”

 

Peter continued his story “In the dark of night we climbed back over the ridge and walked parallel to Martense Lane, just to the south.  As we approached the end of Martense Lane - where it joined the Gowanus Road we heard the sound of marching soldiers.  My father spread his arms across my shoulders and my mother’s and pushed us down nearly to the ground.”  

 

I couldn’t resist and interjected  “These were the English Redcoats approaching the Red Lion Inn, which in my day would be 35th Street between 4th & 5th Avenue just feet from where we are now standing.  Are you now going to tell me of the watermelon patch?”  And with that statement I felt like a fool - we were standing alongside the very watermelon patch I was about to speak of.   My brain reacted as if I had sustained a solid punch from a boxer - the history of the Battle of Long Island was becoming real to me as I stood on the very ground where the first serious fighting took place, after the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

 

While I thought Peter would laugh at my remark, the topic was too serious and too real for him to find it amusing.  He continued “The full moon was just two days away so we could see clearly hundreds of soldiers marching in line from the south.  As they approached the Red Lion Inn, several soldiers handed their rifles to others and ran to the watermelon patch and began collecting melons.   At the same time to our right, we saw colonial soldiers quietly stepping from the back door of the Red Lion Inn.  We were in a perfect position to watch as they sought cover and then bravely began firing though terribly out numbered.”

 

“As soon as the firing began, my father grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and ushered me and my mom to our feet.  We began running north on the Gowanus Road as the shots were echoing behind us.  About a half mile later we came to a very high rise to our right.  We paused to catch our breath.  But our moment of rest did not last - a shout from the rise - distinctly American - ordered us to not move.   Three soldiers, who were at the foot of the rise, ran to us - bayonets aimed at our chests.  My father quickly explained, between gasps for breath, what we had just witnessed.  With weapons relaxed, one of the soldiers ran to the top of the rise and then returned with a runner to go north to the encampment of Lord Stirling.”  

 

“The soldiers ushered us to the spot in the underbrush where they were keeping watch.  One offered us apple beer from his leather bag.”  Once again I interrupted.  I said “I may have information that you are not aware of.  Lord Stirling, as you know is just the royal title given to the American William Alexander.  But what you may not know, is that his ancestor - also William Alexander was asked by England’s King James to translate the Book of Psalms into English for the King James Bible in 1611.”

 

“And the King was so pleased with his work that he gave him the title as the first Earl of Stirling and the rights to a great deal of land in the northeast section of America.  Included was the “long” island.  When you read the beautiful and powerful words of Psalm 23 know that the hand of a William Alexander was guided by God to give us this wonderful spiritual poetry.  Through the years, the Earl of Stirling failed to collect rents on the long island and the King gave the rights to the Duke of York.  In the mid-1700's “our” William Alexander went to England asking that his rights and title be recognized.  But instead they merely gave him the lesser title of Lord Stirling and no property rights to Long Island.  Soon after he became a follower of the cause for independence.”

 

“I’ve never held a Bible in my hands Tony” said Peter and from my master’s words Psalm 23 begins with “Hij doet mij nederliggen in grazige weiden; Hij voert mij zachtjes aan zeer stille wateren.”, but I’m sure what you are saying means something to you and I will respect that.”  In my excitement I failed to realize that the King James Bible would not have been very popular in Dutch Sunset Park and that the words that often brought me comfort would be in Dutch for Peter.  I made a mental note to be more aware of these differences as we continued our dialogue.

 

Peter continued “In the distance from the bay I heard the tolling of six bells.  My father told me that means it is three in the morning.  We listened as messengers came and went.  We heard that an American Major, a lieutenant and 15 solders were captured by the British at the Red Lion Inn and that the British were continuing their march.  At the same time, Lord Stirling was bringing soldiers south on the Gowanus Road to engage the British.  My father asked the soldiers if we could leave and we were given permission to do so.  Instead of continuing north away from the British advance, my father reasoned it was better to move towards them and hope that they would march past the three of us in hiding and continue north to where the actual fighting would take place.”

 

“So with that we said our hushed good-byes and moved across the road, into the west side brush and moved south.  We soon came to a small area surrounded by marsh, my father assumed we would be safe.  We had moments of quietness, I actually fell in and out of sleep, I would awaken for a moment and hear my mother murmuring words of affection to my father and recall thinking to myself “love cannot be defeated by time or distance”.  

 

“I awoke abruptly and in total fear from the slapping of my father’s palm over my mouth.  My eyes opened wide as I saw my father’s face inches from mine.  He slowly removed his hand and held a single finger over my lips signaling me to be quiet.  He then pointed to a large oak tree to our right.  A British sharpshooter had quietly stationed himself behind the tree but the moonlight shone off the metal strap that held the black barrel to the wooden stock.  I fully understood the need for total silence.”

 

“Within minutes I heard a strange repetitious sound from behind us.  It was a huge horse with burlap sacks tied to each hoof to muffle its sounds.  Astride the horse was a man in regal American uniform.  He looked proud and confident.  He sat erect in the saddle as if he had no fear.  A runner approached him and I heard him addressed “Lord Stirling”.  The runner was telling him that the British were attempting to trick General Washington.  The main British force was going to outflank him from the east, that this attack on the Gowanus Road was a trick to get him to commit his forces and then they would surround him!  The only hope was for Stirling to go back, get his small group of men and hold the Gowanus Road.  Stirling nodded agreement and in the moment that he pulled on the reins of his steed to turn, a flash of moonlight reflected from the rifle of the British sniper as he took aim.  My father jumped to his feet, pulled a knife from his belt and ran directly into the path of the shot, took the bullet full in his chest and plunged the knife into the heart of the riflemen killing him.  Lord Stirling and the runner disappeared by time I turned my head back to where I had seen them last.

 

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