The First Conspiracy Read online

  When he’s not making shoes, McLean operates a lucrative side business. He runs a clandestine ferry service to the Duchess of Gordon, delivering goods, spies, recruits, and messages back and forth to Governor Tryon. Tryon pays McLean for the service, and it’s up to McLean to avoid the sentries and soldiers from the Continental army.

  When the Goshen trio finds McLean at his waterfront shop, Farley does the talking. Unfortunately, the shoemaker has some bad news. As Mason later remembers the conversation, “McLean and Farley whispered together,” and then “McLean said there was no opportunity of getting on board in two or three nights.”

  What are they supposed to do for the two or three nights until they can get on one of the ferries?

  McLean recommends they find lodging at nearby Houlding’s Tavern, run by a Loyalist named James Houlding. There, they can lie low and be among others sympathetic to their cause. Fittingly enough, the tavern is located very close to one of the main barracks where Continental troops are housed in the city. Even more fittingly, Houlding’s is on a small street called Tryon Row, named after the Governor himself.

  Farley, Mason, and Benjamin follow the shoemaker’s advice and make their way to Houlding’s. Sure enough, they are welcomed by the proprietor, James Houlding, after “telling [him that] Mr. McLean had sent and recommended them there as a safe house.”

  Clearly, there’s a secret network in the city who work together on behalf of Governor Tryon—all of them flouting the rules established by the colonial government and the Continental army.

  Mason, Farley, and Benjamin will learn more about this network in the coming days, because their stay at Houlding’s Tavern lasts longer than expected. Shoemaker McLean continues to have trouble lining up a ferry for them, and after several days, they are still hanging around the tavern.

  Despite its proximity to the barracks of the Continental army, Houlding’s is a central hub of Loyalist activity in the city. During their time lodging there, the group from Goshen meets an assortment of characters, people of all trades and from all backgrounds, all participating in clandestine operations on behalf of Governor Tryon or other Loyalist operatives. The Goshen men also learn of other taverns, like Lowry’s on Broadway, and Corbie’s farther north, where Loyalists meet and confer.

  The problem for the Goshen team is that they are running out of money while they await passage. They need to get paid. Until Mason and Benjamin receive their new salaries, and until Farley gets his bounty, they are out of pocket. After complaining of this, they are introduced to someone through Houlding’s whom they are told can help.

  His name? Gilbert Forbes. The gunsmith.

  Forbes, they learn, has recently become something of a ringleader when it comes to recruiting and organizing the men in Governor Tryon’s secret army of traitors. Because Mason and Benjamin are having so much trouble gaining passage to the Duchess, Forbes says he will swear them in himself, a process called getting “qualified.”

  Basically, they must participate in a secret initiation in order to join Tryon’s scheme.

  For this ceremonial swearing-in, Forbes takes Mason and Benjamin to Corbie’s, a more isolated tavern than Houlding’s, on the northern outskirts of the city. As Mason later describes the initiation, Forbes holds up “the Book”—probably a Bible—and makes him “swear not to divulge anything” to anyone outside their inner circle, and he has to pledge his allegiance to the Crown’s forces.

  Once Forbes “qualifies” both Mason and Benjamin, he puts their names on a list, which is “to be sent to the Governor.” More important for the two newcomers, now that they’re qualified, they can start getting paid.

  Mason learns that Forbes received a stash of money, rumored to be more than one hundred pounds, from Mayor David Mathews, who himself received it from Governor Tryon. As Mason will later describe it, after his qualification, “Gilbert Forbes promised … ten shillings per week subsistence money.”

  When Mason complained that ten shillings per week was too little, “Forbes said that he could not help it, but he would write to the Governour to try to get it increased to twelve.”

  After their qualification ritual, Mason and Benjamin continue to wait to go on board the Duchess of Gordon, and to receive further instructions from on the ground.

  Passage to the ship seems to be forever delayed, so the recruits bide their time on land, mostly hanging around the taverns. There, they continue to hear more about the true scope of the recruiting efforts run by Tryon and carried out by Mayor Mathews and Gilbert Forbes.

  For example, Mason meets a fellow new recruit named Clarke, a former schoolmaster also from upstate New York, who says that “he had enlisted about sixty men, of whom he had a list, and who were ready to assist when the troops came.” Apparently this list of sixty names “was given to Gilbert Forbes to be sent to the Governour,” just as Mason and Benjamin’s names had been.

  Sixty recruits, from just one region of upstate New York. Those are impressive numbers.

  Finally, Mason learns one more remarkable fact about the Governor’s recruiting: It’s not just millers, laborers, and other ordinary folks. According to what he hears, Governor Tryon—with the help of Mathews and Forbes—has been successfully bribing Continental soldiers to betray their army and join the enemy.

  Whatever James Mason may have thought of this scheme when he first learned of it in Goshen, New York, it’s clearly bigger and more sprawling than he imagined.

  By all appearances, Governor Tryon is planning something truly epic.

  No question, James Mason is about to play a major part in Tryon’s scheme—but that part will be far from what he expects.

  44

  Now that the New York Provincial Congress has formed the secret “Committee on Intestine Enemies,” George Washington puts increasing pressure on the congress to take aggressive steps against the plots and conspiracies around New York City.

  With Washington’s Continental forces already overwhelmed by military preparations, the simultaneous threat of enemies within the colonies is more than the army can withstand. As the Continental army surgeon James Thacher will put it: “Internal secret enemies are always more dangerous than avowed in the field; and so numerous and active are the Tories in the vicinity of our main army, that it has been found necessary to adopt coercive measures.”

  What should those coercive measures be, exactly? That’s what the secret committee must now figure out.

  On May 19, the day after the resolution to create the secret committee first passed in the New York Provincial Congress, Washington follows up with another directive: In relation to any activity or measure undertaken by this group, all congressmen with knowledge of it must swear an oath of secrecy.

  With these sorts of investigations, the cost of public leaks or information getting into the wrong hands can be ruinous; therefore, secrecy is not just a recommendation, it’s mandatory. Any member of the Provincial Congress who violates the oath risks losing their position.

  A few days later, on May 21, the congress submits a “Report on Disaffection” to set out some initial findings and help define the mission of the secret committee. First, they acknowledge the problem:

  WHEREAS his Excellency General Washington hath lately exhibited to this Congress sundry informations and evidences, from which it appears that the enemies of American liberty have a general communication with each other through this and part of the neighbouring Colonies;

  WHEREAS many ill-disposed persons have lately resorted unto and a great number dwell in Queens County … and there are also several ill-disposed persons in the City and County of New York, in Kings County, Richmond County, and in sundry other parts of this Colony, many of whom will most probably take up arms on the part of our foes …

  Basically, internal enemies are all around. And although the focus of the committee’s work is on the colony of New York, and is authorized only by New York’s legislative body, the mention of “neighbouring Colonies” makes clear that the committee
understands the widespread nature of the Loyalist network. It features interconnected groups operating and communicating across towns, counties, and the entire region. The report also contains the beginning of a mission statement for the new committee:

  WHEREFORE, as well out of regard to the safety of individuals as for the general welfare of America, it is highly and indispensably necessary to take speedy and effectual measures to prevent the hostile intentions of our foes, to stop the channels of intelligence and communication among the disaffected, and to quell the spirit of opposition which hath hitherto prevailed.…

  In other words, because our enemies are plotting and scheming against us, we need to plot and scheme right back. We need a dedicated team that can uncover the enemies’ secret activities, learn their designs, and come up with our own designs to stop them.

  First, the committee plans to draw up a list of known persons in every county who are “disaffected.” Those persons can now be apprehended.

  Second, the committee is authorized to conduct interrogations of any such people suspected of having views “hostile to the United American Colonies.”

  Third, the committee must operate in complete secrecy to prevent its investigations from leaking to the public or to the enemy.

  Fourth, to carry out intelligence missions and to apprehend spies and other dangerous suspects, the committee can request access to Continental soldiers and other resources from the military.

  Almost two centuries later, the mission and methods of a group such as this will be given a much fancier name: counterintelligence. The committee’s primary goal—to detect enemy espionage activity and take covert action to dismantle it—will be a dedicated field within the realm of intelligence and law enforcement. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, advanced counterintelligence teams staffed by highly trained experts will utilize cutting-edge technologies and techniques to uncover even the most sophisticated foreign espionage schemes.

  But at this time, in the spring of 1776, the operation is a small group of local elected officials, most with no formal training in spying or military affairs, figuring out a system as they go.

  Even so, the committee begins to devise a set of tools and guidelines for how to conduct investigations, how to interrogate suspects, how to maintain secrecy, and how to integrate the role of the military with the role of traditional civilian law enforcement. These same central questions and goals will continue to be the foundation of counterintelligence work even centuries later.

  As far as the personnel of this new elite team, the names change several times as the congress figures out the committee’s mission and scope. Names are added; names are removed. Within the next few weeks, however, three particular members are added who become critical to the mission of the group.

  The first is Philip Livingston, an elder congressman from the legendary Livingston family of New York. The Livingstons have a long tradition of public service and, unlike many other wealthy families in the region who side with the British, the Livingstons have always supported the colonies in their disputes with the Crown. Philip’s credentials as a Patriot are impeccable.

  The second new key member, Gouverneur Morris,‡ is a respected lawyer who is also a reliable player in the colony’s government. Morris takes one of the harshest lines against Loyalists in New York, showing little mercy for what he believes is their betrayal of the colonies. Interestingly, in private hours, he writes devoted letters to his sister, who is a Loyalist by marriage. Such is the paradoxical nature of the times. Despite this seeming contradiction, Morris is dedicated and exacting in his pursuit of suspected traitors in New York.

  Finally, there’s John Jay.

  Throughout the entire revolutionary era, few men can claim as many titles and will play as many different critical roles as Jay.

  In what will be a long and expansive career, Jay somehow always seems to be serving in the most important body, often playing a key role alongside the most important people at almost every critical juncture of the country’s founding. Whether as a lawyer, judge, state congressman, delegate to the Continental Congress, future president of Congress, future Governor, future framer of the Constitution, future diplomat, or future first Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, Jay is always there at the center of things.

  However, unlike many of the other Founding Fathers, who adopt public personae and openly seek public influence, John Jay generally prefers to stay behind the scenes. And unlike most of the other Founders, who bicker and feud with one another, Jay mostly stays above the fray and commands almost universal respect.

  Of the many areas where Jay will excel in his long and accomplished career, there is one, not always mentioned in history books, in which he shows an early talent as a young man: law enforcement.

  John Jay represented New York as a delegate to both the First and Second Continental Congresses. In 1776, he joins a secret committee of the New York Provincial Congress, charged with investigating conspiracies against the Continental army in and around New York City. (John Jay by Joseph Wright, 1786; oil on linen, 30 ¼ × 26 inches; negative #6066, New-York Historical society)

  He’s smart, dedicated, and methodical—with an analytical legal mind and a reputation for integrity. He’s the ultimate straight shooter, someone who gets things done and always for the right reasons.

  In the spring of 1776, John Jay—thirty years old at the time—is the perfect person to help oversee a first-time American intelligence-gathering and law-enforcement operation in the heart of New York City on the eve of war.

  With a mandate from the Commander-in-Chief, a brand-new mission statement, and a talented team at the helm, the newly formed secret committee has an impressive set of tools.

  It also starts to use a different name. Instead of the “Committee on Intestine Enemies,” it starts to call itself the “Committee on Conspiracies.”

  Much better.

  This elite new top-secret team now has some powerful resources. It will need them all—because in a matter of days, it will embark on a complex, high-stakes investigation that could change the fate of the colonies.

  45

  Drinking. Disease. Filth. Prostitutes. Secret plots.

  All this, and the constant, growing, ominous dread of a coming attack that could annihilate the entire army.

  For George Washington, the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental army, his time in New York City must seem like a descent into darkness.

  His whole life, Washington has been guided by a sense of honor, and a gentleman’s code of virtue. Yet here, in New York City on the verge of war, those values seem to sink into the muck on the streets. His polished Virginia manners and wholesome morals are out of place; they seem woefully inadequate—or at least they do right now. His army seems mired in disorder. They’re sick, sullen, and undisciplined.

  To survive, Washington can only focus on what he knows.

  He knows the fortifications in the city. He knows the redoubts and the barricades, the armaments and the artillery. He knows his officers and his regiments, his arms and his supplies. He can focus on the endless specific concrete tasks that lie before him, and before his men, to prepare for war. He can work, work, work tirelessly, endlessly, and push everyone around him to work as hard or almost as hard as he does.

  He knows what he believes: that the “Glorious Cause” is just; that he is fighting for noble ideals; that the people of the colonies have placed their trust in him, and that honor demands he shoulder the extraordinary burden of leadership with every ounce of his will.

  Those are all things he knows. But then there are things he doesn’t know.

  The deception, the disloyalty. The clandestine plots and schemes. The hidden dangers, emanating not from his military foe across the ocean, but from enemies right here, all around him, sometimes in the shadows, sometimes in disguise.

  So much of it seems to come from one place—that dark ship, the Duchess of Gordon—where Governor Tryon resides. Or at least, so much of
it seems to come from there, part of a shadowy, unknowable web.

  When it comes to all the confusing enemy plots circulating around his army, Washington describes them this way: “The encouragements given by Governor Tryon to the disaffected, which are circulated no one can well tell how; the movements of this kind of people, which are more easy to perceive than describe.”

  It’s these mysterious movements—“more easy to perceive than describe”—that seem to surround the city, that create a constant feeling of uncertainty and menace.

  Washington can read the reports, he can study the intelligence. He can review the interrogations, he can intercept correspondence, he can gather facts and confer with his new top-secret committee.

  But even so, there are things that George Washington doesn’t know—things almost impossible to imagine.

  On many nights, Washington and his men travel at sundown from his headquarters at One Broadway, in the heart of the busy southern tip of the city, to his quiet secondary quarters in the woods near the Hudson, almost two miles to the northwest.

  Along this route from city into country, Washington probably doesn’t even notice that he passes close to a tavern called Corbie’s. The tavern isn’t far from the manor house where he sleeps. In fact, it’s close enough that Washington’s staff and personal guards from the residence could walk to Corbie’s if they wanted.

  Washington doesn’t know that one night in late spring, in the last days of May or the first days of June, two men at Corbie’s begin a conversation. Their mugs are full. The proprietor of the tavern, Mr. Corbie himself, is probably nearby, serving other customers ale or rum.

  The two men speak quietly, in hushed, serious tones.

  One of the two is the gunsmith Gilbert Forbes. He has in his possession, either at home or with him that night, a stack of money given to him by the Governor, William Tryon, by way of the Mayor, David Mathews.