The Journey of a Loyalist Widow during the American Revolution
My original name is Arabella Edward, but since we moved to the Colonies everyone refers to me a “Bella”. I was born and raised in Great Britain, under the Crown, and remain loyal to them to this day. I’m 22 years old. Turned out my husband was an agent for the British crown, whose name was Thomas Edward, age 26, and insisted we move to North America in hopes for “A better, brighter future.” We began in Boston. We moved here in early 1773. We owned a small farm, and Thomas did odd work in the beginning. It wasn’t until later that he told me his job. We had only one child in the beginning, Bertha Edward, who turned 5 years old, when we arrived to the colonies. It was difficult trusting …show more content…
They enjoyed coffee, celebrating the British’s victory of Kemp’s Landing. He went to lie in bed and soon after, in the midst of a light slumber, we awoke to loud, thundering pounds against our door. Thomas, angrily threw open the door. The Captain of the Continental army stood at the entrance of our home. They captured Thomas, and tied him up to a chair in our kitchen, beat him and yelling “Traitor!” over and over again. They tortured him for what felt like hours, and demanded any information passed onto him by the Commander in Chief of the British army, that morning. I was forced to stay quiet and hold a weeping Bertha, who kept whispering “I’m sorry”, while we watched him be beat near death. Finally, they stopped, after it became apparent that Thomas was no longer conscious. They took him outside, and from the window, I watched as they tied a noose, and hung him from a tree. Forced to stay inside, by two patriot soldiers, I was useless and torn. They took his body, and left before the sun finished …show more content…
The New Year came and went, just as other ordinary day. It was officially 1776. All I wished for was the safety of my child. My ultimate goal for the New Year had been to reach New York. There we could live as loyalist without having to disguise it. Until that time came we remained in Boston; with a family whose husband was good friends with Thomas. They had a small cottage like space near the end of their property, almost at the end of town. It was good we found them. I’ve been falling ill in the mornings a few weeks after the passing of Thomas, and the older sibling has been a great help when it comes to caring for Bertha. It’s been close to three months. Bertha turns 8 in a week. The first of her birthdays without her
My original name is Arabella Edward, but since we moved to the Colonies everyone refers to me a “Bella”. I was born and raised in Great Britain, under the Crown, and remain loyal to them to this day. I’m 22 years old. Turned out my husband was an agent for the British crown, whose name was Thomas Edward, age 26, and insisted we move to North America in hopes for “A better, brighter future.” We began in Boston. We moved here in early 1773. We owned a small farm, and Thomas did odd work in the beginning. It wasn’t until later that he told me his job. We had only one child in the beginning, Bertha Edward, who turned 5 years old, when we arrived to the colonies. It was difficult trusting …show more content…
They enjoyed coffee, celebrating the British’s victory of Kemp’s Landing. He went to lie in bed and soon after, in the midst of a light slumber, we awoke to loud, thundering pounds against our door. Thomas, angrily threw open the door. The Captain of the Continental army stood at the entrance of our home. They captured Thomas, and tied him up to a chair in our kitchen, beat him and yelling “Traitor!” over and over again. They tortured him for what felt like hours, and demanded any information passed onto him by the Commander in Chief of the British army, that morning. I was forced to stay quiet and hold a weeping Bertha, who kept whispering “I’m sorry”, while we watched him be beat near death. Finally, they stopped, after it became apparent that Thomas was no longer conscious. They took him outside, and from the window, I watched as they tied a noose, and hung him from a tree. Forced to stay inside, by two patriot soldiers, I was useless and torn. They took his body, and left before the sun finished …show more content…
The New Year came and went, just as other ordinary day. It was officially 1776. All I wished for was the safety of my child. My ultimate goal for the New Year had been to reach New York. There we could live as loyalist without having to disguise it. Until that time came we remained in Boston; with a family whose husband was good friends with Thomas. They had a small cottage like space near the end of their property, almost at the end of town. It was good we found them. I’ve been falling ill in the mornings a few weeks after the passing of Thomas, and the older sibling has been a great help when it comes to caring for Bertha. It’s been close to three months. Bertha turns 8 in a week. The first of her birthdays without her