Friendship and Tea Parties (Ordinary Americans Prompt #5)

Dear Journal,

                        This is no longer Samantha White writing. She has given her journal to her son, Charles Brown. My mother, Samantha, is becoming ill and she gave me her journal to continue about our family’s journey in America. It has been 17 years after Mother’s wedding and I am now 18, and have been reading my mother’s past entries and am glad to fill book of memories with up and coming things that will happen to me.  To start, Mother is so sick; it’s hard for her to tell the difference between my father and I. I wouldn’t blame her, everybody mistakes us for each other, but now my own mother doesn’t know whether or not I’m my father. My mother was the only one out of everybody who could tell the difference from our chestnut, brown hair that carried the scent of salt water from working at the Boston Harbor. Our eyes were the same emerald color, but my mother could always see the how my eyes shined with curiosity. My eighteen years with her have been the best eighteen years any son could ask for. We have gone through times when I have thought or said things that I regret, but the memories made will never be forgotten whether it be sad, happy, mad, or any other feeling in the world.

            Both of my parents both came from England and have followed the King’s rule ever since, but as times changed, our sights have changed as well. Because of my mother’s illness, Father and I have been struggling to get money to pay the taxes that the King is making us pay. We are outraged that we have to pay such ridiculous taxes when we don’t even get to have a voice in government. They wouldn’t have to go through all these acts and force all of the colonies to begin to turn against the King. If he had the thought about giving us the slightest bit of power, he would’ve had our consent and nobody would have to go through this mess. My father and I are two of the many members of the Sons of Liberty and Samuel Adams, the man who leads the Sons of Liberty, has announced that we all attend a rally that occurred yesterday afternoon.  My father has been depressed and wanted to spend every minute he could get with her, so I decided to attend by myself.

            “A great and sorrowful day it is my friends,” Samuel Adams said to the crowd that had gathered, “England is trying to take our natural rights of liberty and freedom. First there is the Stamp Act, then there was the Townsend Act, and now there is this Tea Act! The King cannot think that the tea’s sweetness will make up for the bitterness of tyranny.”

            As the crowd murmured in irritation, shouts about how the king is a tyrant pierced through them.

            “All of the other 12 colonies have driven away the ships carrying tea, but only the Boston Harbor accepts the tea that comes from England. Our beloved King is using us as an example to the world that his laws will be enforced no matter how cruel and unfair they are. But we will not be his example!”

            The crowd mumbled in agreement and the shouting grew louder and louder as we all became more excited and enthusiastic about our cause.

            “I have tried pleading to our governor, Thomas Hutchinson, and he has sent a letter in response,” Samuel Adams said and gestured toward the nervous sheriff of Boston. As he read the letter out loud to everybody, we heard about how the governor thinks that by having us meet here is against the public interest and that if we were not to leave immediately, we would be at our utmost peril. The crowd no longer was murmuring, but instead, people were shouting and sneering in disapproval.

            “We will no longer let the King take our money without our consent! We will show all of Britain that we cannot allow them to treat us like this! Tonight, we shall dress up as Mohawk Indians to hide our identity and to pose a threat as we board the ships and dump the tea into the Boston Harbor!” Samuel Adams shouted with pride and confidence that our point will be made. After people finished talking to their neighbors about tonight’s plan, the crowd began to disperse and each man returned to their homes to get ready for tonight.

            The thought of tonight’s event scared me about how the King would punish us. But the fear was soon tossed aside as I thought about how things could be different and possibly even peaceful. Life could be better and maybe the colonists will finally have a voice in government. With the thought in mind, I excitedly put together my Mohawk Indian costume and got dressed. I then splatted paint onto my face and stuck a feather in my hair and grabbed a tomahawk I had earlier for such occasions. What I saw in the mirror, satisfied me until my childhood friend, Raymond, barged into the house, “Charles! Did you hear about the Sons of Liberty are doing? They’re…” He paused, when he found me standing there with the plan of the Sons of Liberty all over me.

            “You’re one of them?” He asked in disbelief, “Charles Brown, the friend I’ve known my whole life is a Son of Liberty, yet I never knew?”

            I had no idea what to say. I knew Raymond and his family was still loyal to the King, but because my family was the opposite, I didn’t want our friendship to end. “Raymond, I’m sorry for not telling you, it’s just that I didn’t want our families to no longer be friends because of this. Pl"“

            “No. I won’t let you go. We are subjects of the King! We must be loyal to him! As Americans, we should be grateful and not be doing these things to anger him. We have a better life than those in England, don’t we? With him, England is feared by so many, so why are we trying to make us fear them? Charles, don’t do this. You know better, things will get worse if you do this. If you go off with those rebels and dump the tea, it would be unforgivable. I would never forgive you,” Raymond looked at me with his deep, brown eyes, which was slightly hidden by his blonde hair that was in need of a Haircut badly.

            “I’m really sorry, Raymond. But I believe that the King is unfair and cruel and violating everybody’s rights. We need to make a bold statement to show the King and Parliament that they cannot treat us like this! We can’t have them pushing us around like this all of the time; we have to show them that they can’t do that to us. We have to show them that we should’ve gotten a voice before they decided to pass these acts.”

            Raymond stood there stunned and I simply brushed him on the shoulder as I made my way to the door. When I got outside, as if I didn’t already know, Raymond angrily shouted into the night, “You are just like what you say the King is! Cruel and Unfair!” I looked back at him as he marched his way back to his home. Was I really cruel and unfair for how I just treated him? Was I just like the King? But what was worse was that I realized I had just lost my best friend.

            I made my way to Griffin’s wharf with the thought of Raymond in my mind. Who would’ve thought that 18 years of a friendship could be thrown out the window in less than 5 minutes? I saw many who were dressed in their Mohawk Indian costumes and joined them as we all marched to the destination Samuel Adams told us to go to. The three ships that held the tea were all next to each other, rocking silently in the night, awaiting to rampaged by the angry Sons of Liberty and be emptied of what they have. Three men, who seemed to have authority over the operation, split all of us into three groups, one group for each ship. I was in the second group, commanded by a tall man named Leonard Pitt.

            As if synchronized, the three men commanded us to board the ships at the same time. People began to become excited and made Indian calls to get into the mood of their costumes. But it helped with our plan. The crew on the ships was frightened and shocked by the sudden amount of Indians that barged onto their ships. Leonard Pitt then appointed a man named George Hewes and I as boatswain and to demand the ship’s captain to give us the keys to the hatches and candles in order to dump the tea.  George and I barged into the room where the captain was writing on some papers. George held his tomahawk as if ready to strike the captain on his skull and quickly told him to tell me where the keys and candles were. After getting everything that was needed, George and I rushed out and blocked the door, so the captain couldn’t go after us. We handed Leonard the keys and began to light the candles.

            Adrenaline rushed through me as Leonard opened up the hatches and explained to us that we were not to damage the ship or rigging, but was to throw the chests of tea overboard. Men darted to every chest of tea in sight and began to use their tomahawks to cut open them. The heavy chests of tea were thrown into the water and the tea was exposed to the salty water, making the tea no longer any good to use. But even as we were throwing the tea over, people were trying to snatch up the tea to take home for their family. George Hewes even caught a man who had filled his pockets and the lining of his coat and reported it to Leonard about what he was doing. As the man escaped, George had ripped off the skirt of the man’s coat and was given a kick or so by each person he passed as the man ran off. Every single chest of tea was disposed of in all of the ships and British armed ships that did nothing to stop us now surrounded us.

            The yelling had stopped, and the adrenaline seemed to have stopped instantly in everybody. We quietly returned to our homes without even the smallest bit of a whisper. As I walked home, I had a lot of time to think. Mainly about Raymond though; what had happened earlier kept replaying in my head. Maybe what I did was wrong, but doing this also had to be the right thing. But now I am sure that it is the right thing. I cannot let what I believe be unspoken, maybe I lost my best friend, but if he will not accept who I am, maybe he wasn’t my best friend in the first place. The Boston Tea Party that had happened was one of the greatest things that have happened in so long, but what are the consequences that will face me? One of them is losing Raymond, but what else is there to come?

           

Charles Brown

            

Author's Note

This is prompt number five of the stories I have to write in Social Studies based on historical events during the American Revolution. I hope you like it!