December 16, 1773

Dearest William Henley,  

I hope that this letter finds you well. I am making sure to keep it very brief, as we must be quick. I am writing to inform you about the matter of our planned meeting under discussion. It has been confirmed. I expect to see you at our planned time and location for our final meeting.

Grace be with you,

Samuel Adams

A smile crossed my face as I read it for the third time. It has been confirmed. I turned my head back up to stare at the door. I practically leaped with joy as I rushed to it and ripped it open with eagerness. My bare face was hit with frigid dry air of the sunny December morning as the cold wind flew through my black hair. The smile on my face was so broad as I patted the worn pockets of my trousers. I heard the clings of the little change I had left. On any normal occasion, I would have opposed spending my saved money on something of less importance. But in the moment, I felt like the richest man on earth, greater than the king himself. 

        I had to use a great deal of force to keep myself from dancing down the road as I headed down to the markets. This time, when the most expensive trolley passed by me, I didn’t scowl or roll my eyes. Instead, I continued on my stroll. My torn up shoes nearly bounced off the ground in joy. I arrived in front of the merchant, his confused look clearly visible. “I would like some of your finest British tea,” I said, making sure to emphasize the word British. 

“Golly! You look joyous. What’s new? It surely isn’t often we see you buying British tea,” asked the merchant, suspicion beginning to creep in with the confusion in his accented voice.

“Nothing new. Just figured I should enjoy it while it’s here!”

“Well then, that will be seven pence, that is if you are finally willing to pay the tax,” he asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in annoyance.

        William reached into his trouser pocket and spread the cold heavy change out onto his dirty and calloused hands. Carefully, he counted out seven pence and reached his hand out in pride. In exchange, he received a few bags of tea. As he turned his back, not bothering to hide his smile, he walked back to his old and rundown house with his head held up so high that it began to feel a little sore. Contrary to the outside, William kept the inside of his home very neat. He wiped off his torn yet clean shoes on his perfectly placed doormat and slipped them off into his closet. His feet slid gracefully against his newly swept kitchen floors. 

        He reached for the cabinet door and yanked it open with enough force to get it unstuck without taking it off its hinges again. His eyes scanned the row of his little evenly placed mugs. He decided on his favorite, the only one that he bought for a cheap price without breaking. Carefully, he poured water from his canteen and placed it in his new bag of tea. He watched as the clear water slowly filled with herbs, and the aroma filled the room. Eagerly, he held the mug up to his nose and took a big whiff. William hadn’t had the privilege of tea in quite some time. Joy spread throughout his body with every sip he took. In just a few hours, life would be different. And some weren't even aware.

William tried to get his chores around the house done but found himself looking at the sun every second, waiting for it to slip down the horizon and tuck itself into bed. Finally, when the night owls began to hoot, and the orange clouds began to slip into darkness, he headed for the door. The frigid cold air filled his lungs as he took one final breath before stepping out onto the cool grass. He made sure to keep silent during his secret walk through the darkness. A wild coyote let out a howl, causing William to jerk his head in its direction. Every little noise seemed to cause a startle.

He was suddenly becoming more aware of his situation. All of the different possibilities of what could come of this night ran through his head until he finally arrived. The Boston Harbour. This night was only the beginning of an evolution.

There he met the eyes of 30 hopeful men, one of which was Samuel Adams. Everybodys’ smiles were wider than the great harbor itself.

“The others will meet us here. So in the meantime, make yourself useful and throw on those togs,” Samuel said, throwing some clothes and an Indian headdress in his direction.

         Eventually, everybody had arrived and gotten dressed up. And as all 60 men stared at each other, dolled up and wearing Indian headdresses, they couldn’t help but break up into laughter. Only soon, the laughter quickly came to an end once they spotted Samuel’s serious expression.

“Tonight, we battle for what we believe in,” Samuel shouted, all 59 hopeful eyes rested upon him. “And we show those frogs who we really are!”

The crowd roared into cheers and charged up onto one of the British cargo ships. Nerves were running all throughout William’s body, but that wasn’t the only emotion. There was a sense of pride coursing through everybody, like they were taking part in an event that could change history. At that moment the king himself didn’t worry them. They were 60 brave and proud men, ready for a change. Ready for justice.

“Grab any box of this nonsense tea you can find and dump it into the harbour,” Samuel called out. “If they think they can throw our money away, we must throw theirs away.”

William’s hands pried the lid off of a crate of tea in the cold December night, eyeing it and remembering the cup he had had this morning. Only instead of the delicious aroma, he remembered the hard earned money taken away from him. Anger powered every bone in his body to lift the damp wooden crate and toss it over the boat. 

        He felt a sense of relief. He had not just let go of the crate, but the rope that the British had been dangling him from. He found himself racing to get the most crates, to get the most pride out of this rebellion. 

        And one crate after the other, it wasn't long until he found himself reaching for the last one. His hands met somebody else's. He looked up to see Samuel Adams pushing up on the other side of the crate. They looked each other in the eyes and together lifted the last crate into the water.

        William placed his bear and freezing hands into his warm pockets and watched as the icy water splashed along the cool, December grass, all of his problems washing away with the tea, watching each cloud leave his mouth with every breath he took as the morning sun began to rise.

        William quickly turned his back away from the tea, away from the past. He raised his red knuckles in the air and stared up at the rest of the men. “For freedom!” he shouted.

        “For freedom!” everybody echoed back.

-Julia B.