MARCH WINDS BLOW
It was clear that Snell’s idea of the “best way” to punish Don and his
aunt was a way that would also punish Hawkins, with whom Snell was now
on the bitterest of hostile terms; the two soldiers neither spoke nor
so much as glanced at each other. But whatever Snell’s plan was, he and
Tom were slow in carrying it out.
No doubt they were busy with other things, for the month of March began
in a way that promised to keep the Redcoats and the Tories occupied for
some little time. On the night of the second the Continental batteries
opened fire on the town.
Don and his Aunt Martha were in bed when the firing began. For a long
while they lay listening to the crash, crash of the shells, which
seemed to be landing somewhere on the Common. They heard Snell and
Hawkins descend the stairs and pass out into the street; then Aunt
Martha went to her nephew’s room. “Donald, my boy,” she said, “what can
it mean?”
“It means that General Washington is preparing to drive out old Howe
and his men,” Don replied confidently.
Don was nearer right than his aunt supposed. The two following nights
the bombardment was repeated; it seemed that every gun in all the
forts, both friendly and hostile, was crashing forth and illuminating
the sky every few seconds.
And on the next morning, the fifth of March and the anniversary of
the Boston Massacre, the whole town--and especially the British
high-command--opened their eyes wide with amazement. Strong
fortifications had sprung up, as if by magic, on Dorchester Heights.
Grim black guns were pointing at the town; grim black guns threatened
the British fleet, which lay at anchor out in the harbor.
Later in the morning Jud came hurrying into Pudding Lane and entered
the house; he was trembling with excitement. “The time’s come!” he
cried. “Have you seen Dorchester Heights? The Redcoats have either got
to attack the Heights the way they did Bunker’s Hill, or they’ve got to
clear out. I hope they attack!”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Aunt Martha.
“It’s true,” declared Jud, “everything I’ve told you. The Tories are
scared silly!”
“Have you seen Tom Bullard?” asked Don.
“Yes; I passed him on the way. He didn’t seem scared, though--maybe
he’s just too stupid. He shook his fist at me, and he said, ‘You’d
better keep away from Pudding Lane if you know what’s good for you.’”
“What did he mean?” asked Aunt Martha.
“Nothing, I guess,” said Don. “He likes to talk, that’s all.”
Throughout the rest of the day the town was a place of keen excitement.
Howe, it seems, had decided to accept Washington’s challenge and attack
the Heights. He was a brave man, and his own honor as well as the
honor of England was at stake; he did not mean to yield weakly to a
band of “rebels.” He ordered twenty-four hundred men to embark at once
in transports; under the command of Lord Percy, they were to land at
Castle William, from which place they were to attack Dorchester Heights
when night fell.
Don and Jud saw the Redcoats assemble for the attack and then march
off. They saw Hawkins, tall, erect, well-composed and confident;
they saw Snell marching in another rank--and he seemed anything but
confident.
By noon virtually everyone in Boston and the vicinity expected to see
a terrible battle. It seemed inevitable, for both sides were preparing
for it. While the British were mustering for the attack on Dorchester
Heights, Washington was preparing to attack the British lines in
Boston. A fine detachment of four thousand troops were on parade in
Cambridge; under the command of Generals Putnam, Greene and Sullivan
they were all ready to embark in boats at the mouth of the river. And,
as at Bunker Hill, people had taken up points of vantage on the tops of
houses and on some of the near-by hills.
But somewhat to the disappointment of Don and Jud the two armies were
not to meet. In the afternoon the wind blew furiously, and a wild
destructive surf crashed and pounded on the shores; no boat could
possibly land with safety in such a storm. Great limbs cracked and
crashed on the Common, and boards and shingles were torn from many of
the houses. The two boys, hurrying along Long Acre, narrowly missed
being struck with a pile of stones that came tumbling from a chimney
on a house near Rawson’s Lane.
“Say, that was close, wasn’t it?” exclaimed Jud. “A little more, Don,
and you and I might have been killed.”
Don laughed. “Come on, Jud, and let’s get home. Just look how dark it’s
getting! It’s going to rain too.”
That evening the rain came down in torrents, and the wind continued to
blow with unabated fury. And the next day, the sixth, found the waves
in the harbor high and confused. Both armies waited; and Washington’s
men strengthened their fortifications.
The next day Howe found himself in a critical and perplexing situation.
His army was at the mercy of the Continental batteries, and the fleet
was unable to ride in safety in the harbor. To remain in Boston would
be to expose his men to the greatest danger; to withdraw would be to
lose much valuable property. But Howe was first of all a soldier, and
after a hurried council he determined to withdraw to save his army.
Preparations began at once.
“They’re going, Aunt Martha!” cried Don, bursting in upon his aunt.
“The Redcoats are going to leave the town!”
“And what will they do to the town before they go? O Donald, what will
they do?”
“I don’t know,” replied Don thoughtfully. “They could do a lot of bad
things, I suppose, but, Aunt Martha, I don’t think they’ll do anything
very bad. I tell you it won’t be well for them if they set fire to any
buildings.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of most of all,” said his aunt.
Many other persons besides Aunt Martha were worried about the fate of
Boston. In the Continental army itself there was many a soldier who
wondered what would become of his home and of his relatives who had
refused to leave the town.
After a little group of prominent citizens had sent a petition to
Washington, begging him to take no measures that would injure the town,
the two armies reached a tacit understanding that the British might
embark without the Continentals molesting them. Nevertheless, the
American army held itself in readiness to act in case the enemy did any
damage.
Meanwhile, Washington was strengthening his defenses round the town.
On the evening of the ninth he sent a strong detachment to plant a
battery on Nook’s Hill to threaten the fleet; but the British learned
of his purpose, and almost all night Don and his aunt lay awake and
listened to the roar of cannon.
The next day Howe issued a printed proclamation that almost caused Aunt
Martha to lose heart. Don and Jud brought her word of it.
“All linen and woolen goods have to be turned over to Crean Brush, the
Tory,” whispered Don--for Snell was up-stairs. “Old Howe knows there’s
stuff hidden in the town that our men can use. That’s why he wants it.”
Aunt Martha glanced involuntarily at the door to the cellar. “We’d best
give it up, Donald,” she said. “I’d hoped we could keep it, but I see
now that we can’t. Oh, what a foolish woman I was!”
“No, Aunt Martha--no!” Don’s voice trembled in spite of himself.
“Nobody knows we have the stuff, and the Redcoats can’t possibly search
every cellar.”
“Don is right, Aunt Martha,” whispered Jud. “Don’t you turn it over to
them!”
“But if they come and search----” Aunt Martha checked herself
suddenly, for Snell was coming down the stairs.
Without looking to right or left, the Redcoat crossed the room and went
out on the street.
“Did he hear us?” asked Don’s aunt.
“Not likely,” replied Jud. “Now don’t you say one word about that stuff
in the cellar.”
Aunt Martha shook her head in uncertainty, but she finally decided to
do as the boys had advised.
The next day Crean Brush began his work of searching for hidden
supplies. Stores were broken into, and goods of all sorts were carried
off in violation of strict orders that Howe had issued. Lawless bands
of soldiers, sailors, marines and Tories went from house to house and
took what pleased them. And while they were doing that, the army was
transporting its equipment to the water-front to be shipped aboard the
vessels.
All day Don and his aunt remained in the house, anxiously expecting
every minute to hear the sound of Crean Brush’s men outside. Jud did
not put in an appearance until after dark, and then he remained only
for a few moments to say that a searching party had come to his house
but had found nothing. “If they had,” he added, “Ma and I would have
been as surprised as they, I guess.”
Don and his aunt laughed. Before Jud went away he got Don to one side.
“Say, Don,” he whispered, “you’ve got powder in the cellar along with
that other stuff, haven’t you?”
“Yes, a little,” Don replied.
“Well,” said Jud, “if I were you I’d move it somewhere else.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Well, at the rate Crean Brush and his gangs are going they’re pretty
sure to reach your house sooner or later; and if they search it and
find that powder--well, I don’t know what they won’t do.”
“I guess they’ll do enough even if they just find the cloth and stuff,”
said Don. “So it seems to me I might as well leave it all together.”
“No, Don; do as I tell you!” Jud’s voice was low and excited.
Don laughed. “I never knew you to be so cautious before, Jud.”
But Jud seized his friend’s arm. “Take my advice for once and do it,”
he urged. “I’ll help you move it now if you like.”
“No, not now,” replied Don. “Maybe later.”
“All right, then.” And Jud hurried out into the night.