(_Pennsylvania, 1706_)
I
Jack Felton, coming back to his home from the woods that lay north of
the town of Philadelphia, on a day in May, 1706, stopped at his
friend's, Gregory Diggs, the shoemaker, to ask for a bit of leather for
a sling he was making. There was an amusing stranger there, a round,
red-faced man, lolling back in his chair, one knee crossed over the
other. Small, sharp-featured Gregory was driving pegs into the sole of a
boot while he listened to the other's talk. The stranger nodded to Jack.
"Howdy-do, my fine young Quaker lad," said he. "Do your boots need
mending?"
"I want a piece of leather for my sling," said Jack.
"Oho, so you're playing David, are you? Well, I tell you what, this
settlement of Penn's is going to need all the Davids it can muster one
of these fine days. And that day's not so far off, my friends."
"What do you mean?" asked Jack, sitting down in the doorway.
"I mean," said the stranger, "that you simple folk along the Delaware
are like fat sheep that the wolves have sighted. Sea-wolves, they are."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his plump knees. "Have you ever
heard of a Frenchman named De Castris?"
"I have," said Gregory.
"I haven't," said Jack.
"Well, the Frenchman has four fast frigates, and he's been cruising up
and down the coast between Long Island and the Chesapeake capes, looking
for English prey. He chased two small English corvettes up the Delaware
almost to Newcastle. He's captured over a score of merchant ships, and a
week ago he landed at Lewes for water and provisions, and carried off
the pick of the live stock there."
"And what would you have us do, Mr. Hackett?" asked Gregory, picking up
another boot. "Arm, and march up and down the river bank? We're
peaceable people. We try not to make any enemies, and so we don't expect
any enemies to come against us. See how friendly we've lived with the
Indians, while the Virginians have been fighting them all the time."
The other man smiled, that superior, much-amused smile of the wise man
arguing with the ignoramus. "And the sheep don't make enemies of the
wolves either," said he. "The sheep are peaceable beasts, tending to
their own concerns. But that doesn't keep the wolves from preying on
them, does it? Not by a long chalk, my friend Diggs. As for the Indians,
it's only your good fortune that you haven't stirred them up to attack
you. You don't think they care any more for you because you make
treaties with them, and give them beads and trinkets for their land, and
smoke their pipe of peace?"
"We've been thinking that," answered Gregory. "We thought we'd been
treating them as good Christians should."
"Oh, you foolish Quakers!" said Hackett. "You're worse than sheep;
you're like the ostriches that stick their heads in the sand. Look here.
Suppose the Indians should drink too much fire-water some day and make a
raid on your farms; where would your treaties be then? Or
suppose,--what's much more likely,--that this French privateer captain
should take it into his head to sail up the Delaware and levy a ransom
on your prosperous people, and maybe carry off some of your fine Quaker
gentlemen as prisoners. What would you do then?"
Gregory scratched his head. "I suppose we'd try to fight them off," he
concluded.
"But you wouldn't be ready. You wouldn't have enough guns, and powder
and shot. And you wouldn't know what to do with the guns if you had
them."
"Well," the shoemaker repeated patiently, "what would you have us do,
Mr. Hackett?"
"I want you to prepare, Diggs, I want you to prepare. That's what His
Majesty's other colonies have done. I want you to make sure you have
enough guns and ammunition on hand, and know how to use the muskets. I
want you to set sentries along the river and outposts through the
country to give you warning of any possible attack. And above all I want
you to get rid of this Quaker notion that you can go on getting rich and
prosperous without rousing envy in your neighbors."
"You don't see much riches right here," said Gregory, glancing round at
his simple, meagrely-furnished shop.
"No, not here, my honest old friend," agreed Hackett, and he got up and
slapped the shoemaker on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "But most
of the Philadelphia people aren't like you. They're fat and easy-going,
and they wear good clothes and live in fine houses. They like their
comfort, these people of William Penn."
"They look more like you than like me," said Gregory, smiling.
The stout man laughed. "Why, so they do, so they do. But don't put me
down for one of them! I'm no Quaker, Diggs. I'm a good Church of England
man, and I believe in musket and powder-horn." He picked up his
walking-stick, which leaned against his chair, and flourishing it round
his head shot it forward toward Jack Felton as if it had been a
dueling-sword. "There, my young friend," said he, "how would you parry
that? But I forget, Quaker lads aren't taught how to fence."
Jack laughed at the attitude the stout man had struck. "I know how to
shoot with a bow, even if I can't fence," he retorted.
"Shoot with a bow--faugh, that's Indian warfare. Sword and musket's
what we want, Master--I don't know your name."
"Jack Felton," said Gregory. "And he's the son of one of those very
prosperous Quakers you were speaking of, Mr. Hackett."
"So?" said Hackett. "Well, I trust, Master Felton, that you see the
common sense of my argument, and will persuade your father that it's not
unlikely this French buccaneer De Castris may take it into his head to
visit Philadelphia some day." He put on his hat and picked up his cloak.
"I'm on my way to visit my old friend Governor John Evans, and tell him
of the reports I bring from Chesapeake Bay."
Jack stood up to let Mr. Hackett pass him, and then stepped into the
shop. "Is what he says about Philadelphia and the Quakers true?" he
asked the shoemaker.
"I hardly know, Jack. The Friends don't believe in fighting, and maybe
we're not as well prepared for defense as most of our neighbors. We've
kept peace with the Indians by treating them fairly. Charles Hackett
comes from Maryland, where they've had lots of trouble with Indians and
every man goes armed."
"Suppose that French captain came up the Delaware and did what Mr.
Hackett thought he might?" suggested Jack.
Gregory shook his head. "I don't know what we'd do. I take it I'm like
most of the others; I don't like to borrow trouble, Jack."
Jack got the leather for his sling and started home. The stranger's
words stuck in his mind, however. He didn't like to think an enemy might
come up the Delaware and do as he pleased with Philadelphia. It seemed
to him that Mr. Hackett might be right, that the people ought to be
prepared to defend themselves.
Mr. Felton lived in a big house at the corner of Second and Pine
Streets. He was a well-to-do Quaker and a friend of John Evans, the
Deputy Governor who represented William Penn in the province. After
supper Jack told his father what he had heard at the shoemaker's.
"That's idle talk," said his father. "The Frenchman wouldn't think of
coming to Philadelphia, and if he did we've plenty of men here to
protect the town."
"But how do you know they'd do it?" Jack asked. "Friends don't believe
in fighting, the stranger said."
"We don't unless we have to," agreed Mr. Felton. "Don't you bother about
such things, Jack. Leave it to Governor Evans."
Mr. Felton, however, thinking the matter over, decided that perhaps the
governor ought to know that people were talking about a possible attack
by the French privateers, and so he wrote a note and sent it over by
Jack that evening to the governor's house.
Jack thought he would like to speak to the governor himself, so he gave
the servant his name, but not his father's note. The servant reported
that Governor Evans would be glad to see Master Felton in his private
office.
In the office sat the governor and Mr. Charles Hackett. The governor
read Mr. Felton's note. When he looked up he saw that Hackett was
smiling at Jack. "So you've met before, have you?" he said. "It's odd
that this note should be on the very matter we were discussing,
Charles." He handed it to his guest, who read it rapidly.
"So you told your father of our little chat at the shoemaker's, did
you?" said Hackett. "What did he say to it?"
"He didn't say very much," Jack answered. "He told me not to bother
about it."
"You see," said Hackett, looking at the governor. "He said not to
bother. That's what all your good Quaker folks will say, I dare
venture."
Governor Evans looked very thoughtful. He stroked his smooth-shaven
cheek with his hand. "You may be right," he said finally. "They are a
hard people to rouse, beyond question. I think we'd better try the plan
you and I were talking of, the messenger from New Castle arriving in the
morning with news of what happened there."
"Make the message strong," advised Hackett. "Burning, plundering, and
pillage."
Governor Evans nodded his head. "To-morrow will be weekly meeting-day,"
he said thoughtfully. "That'll be as good a time as any to try the
plan." He turned to Jack. "Thank your father for his message, and tell
him that I've already heard the news of the French frigates he speaks
of. Good-night."
Jack bowed to the governor and to Mr. Hackett, who beamed at him and
waved his hand in friendly salute.
Mystified at the governor's words about a messenger from New Castle and
at Mr. Hackett's mention of burning, plundering, and pillage, Jack went
home, and gave his father the governor's answer to his note. He went to
bed, wondering if it was possible that this quiet little town of
Philadelphia, so peaceably settled on the shore of the Delaware, could
possibly be the object of an enemy's attack.
Next day was meeting-day, and as Jack, his father and mother, his
younger brother and sister, went to the red brick meeting-house,
Philadelphia was calmly basking in the sunshine of a bright May morning.
As Mr. Hackett had said, most of the people looked prosperous. William
Penn, the proprietor of the province of Pennsylvania, had been generous
in his dealings with the settlers. Land was plentiful, and farms, with
average care and cultivation, produced splendid crops. The houses in the
section near the Delaware, which was the central part of town, stood in
their own gardens, with carefully kept lawns and flower-beds. People
gave each other friendly greetings in passing. It would have been hard
to find a more peaceful-looking community.
Jack sat quietly through the meeting, and then hurried out of the
meeting-house to join some other boys. A change had come over the street
outside. People were hurrying along it; some were talking excitedly on
the corners. Two stout men, who looked as if they rarely took any
exercise, were going at a double-quick pace toward Chestnut Street.
"What are they hurrying for?" Jack asked the two other boys who had come
from the meeting-house.
"I don't know," answered George Logan.
"Let's go see," said Peter Black.
The three started for Chestnut Street, a couple of squares away. As they
ran along other boys and men joined them, people who were talking
stopped and headed after the crowd, almost all those who had been to
Meeting showed their curiosity by walking in the same direction. The
quiet street was filled with bustle and noise.
There were many people at the crossing of Third and Chestnut Streets;
indeed it looked as if most of Philadelphia was there. Jack caught
snatches of sentences. "A messenger from down the river." ... "Word from
New Castle." ... "Going to attack us." ... "The French ships":--such
were some of the words.
The boys made their way through the crowd until they looked up Chestnut
Street. People were flocking down there too. Jack didn't know there
were so many people in the town as he saw in the streets. Then out from
Fourth Street rode three men on horseback and came down Chestnut toward
the thickest of the crowd. The riders were Governor Evans, his
secretary, and Charles Hackett.
The governor reined up and held out his gloved hand to silence the babel
of voices. "I have news for you!" he cried. The crowd quieted. "A
messenger has come from New Castle with word that a French squadron is
sailing up the Delaware! They have chased two English ships up the bay!
Their crews landed at Lewes, burned the town, plundered and pillaged,
and carried off prisoners and cattle! To arms, lest we share the same
fate! To arms, to defend our homes and families! Get your arms and make
ready to obey the orders I shall issue later!" He drew his sword and
pointed it toward the Delaware. "Let us show the enemy we are ready for
him!"
There was a moment's silence, then a few shouts, then the crowd began to
make away by the side-streets, talking excitedly, gesticulating, very
much startled at the governor's news. They knew that the English and
Dutch settlements along the Atlantic Ocean had often had to defend
themselves against enemies, both white and red, but here in Pennsylvania
there had practically been no need of defense; they had always been on
good terms with their Indian neighbors, and no other enemies had
appeared. Now the French privateers meant to treat their town as they
had already treated Lewes. Burn, plunder, and pillage! There was no good
reason for such an attack. They had done nothing to harm the French.
They couldn't understand why any one should wish to make war on them
when they were such peaceable people, always strictly minding their own
business. Yet there were the governor's words that the French frigates
were sailing up the Delaware, and word had already reached the town
through other channels telling of the attack on Lewes, though the other
reports hadn't made the matter out as bad as had the governor's
messenger. Well, it looked as though, Quakers or not, they would have to
do as Governor Evans bade.
Jack ran all the way home. Everywhere people were telling each other the
news. Even in front of the meeting-house there was an excited group.
Philadelphia was no longer peaceful; there was an entirely new thrill in
the air.
Jack's family had not yet returned. He hurried into the house, and up to
the attic where his father's musket hung on the wall. He took it down,
he found a powder-horn in a chest, he pulled out a sword from behind
some boxes in a corner. With musket and sword and powder-horn in his
arms he went down-stairs. The family were just coming in from the
street. He held out sword and musket. "Here are our arms, father!" he
exclaimed.
Mr. Felton could not help smiling at the excited face of his son. "You
don't intend to be caught napping, do you, Jack?" said he. "Well, I
don't think the French will attack us before dinner. You'd better put
the weapons away for a while."