DON MEETS GENERAL WASHINGTON
Crean Brush’s men did not return to the house in Pudding Lane; they had
more than enough to do in the excitement of the withdrawal. Nor did
Snell give any further trouble; no doubt the fellow feared the strong
arm of Hawkins.
On the sixteenth of the month both Redcoats carried all their equipment
from the house and did not return. All that Hawkins said as he left the
room was “Better days, young sire; better days, my good woman.”
“Ah, yes, let us hope for them,” replied Aunt Martha.
Don only smiled, and Hawkins, as he closed the door, smiled in return.
That was the last that Don ever saw of him during the war.
The following day, which was Sunday, the Redcoats began to embark; and
not only the soldiers left the town, but the Tories also. Don and Jud
caught a glimpse of Tom Bullard and his father carrying some of their
household effects down King Street. The faces of both Tories showed
anger and mortification.
“Come on,” whispered Jud, “let’s get ahead of ’em and then turn and
give ’em a yell. We’ll never see them again.”
“No, Jud,” Don replied, “I’m just a little sorry for them. Oh, yes, I
know Tom’s acted mean, but just think what’s happening to him and his
father; they’re going to Halifax, so I’ve heard, and all they can take
along is just that little bit of stuff they’re carrying. Their fine
house up on Hanover Street is lost, and they’ll never get it again,
because they daren’t ever return.”
Jud did not reply but glanced at his companion sidewise. And so the
two boys stood and watched their enemy until he and his father had
disappeared among the throngs of Redcoats and Tories at the foot of the
street.
The last boatload of soldiers and refugees had not been long away from
the shore when the Continental soldiers entered the town by way of the
Neck and by boats across the river. The boys spied one of the first
patrols on the southern end of the Common and hastened toward them.
“I want to find out first of all about Uncle Dave and Glen,” Don said
to Jud.
But none of the men in the patrol knew either of the two men. Kindly
fellows they were, all of them, and they laughed and joked with the
boys and with one another as they marched along toward the Mall.
“Say!” exclaimed Jud when they had gone past. “I’m so glad to see those
buff and blue uniforms I can hardly say how I feel. I feel as if I’d
burst!”
“Me, too,” said Don, “except that I almost feel like--well, like when
you’re so happy it makes the tears come into your eyes. Look, here come
some more of our men!”
Probably most of the good people of Boston felt as Don and Jud felt;
certainly there were many who shed tears of joy as they stood in their
doorways and watched the various detachments of Continentals arriving.
There was good reason for the tears, for the people who shed them had
suffered like martyrs during long months of privation, insult and
oppression--to say nothing of disease, for smallpox had broken out in
the poorer parts of the town.
The first words that greeted Don as he entered his aunt’s house were,
“Donald, my boy, did--did you see your uncle?”
“No, Aunt Martha. I asked at least a score of our men about him, but
none of them seemed to know him. But, O Aunt Martha, ain’t it fine! The
Redcoats are gone!”
“When I’ve seen your uncle I shall rejoice,” his aunt replied and
turned quickly away.
One thing that annoyed Don the following day was that he failed to see
General Washington, who had entered the town and had dined with Mr.
James Bowdoin at the home of Mr. Erving, both of whom were friends of
Don’s uncle. Nor did Don see Washington the next day, for the general
had returned to Cambridge.
On Wednesday, the twentieth, the main body of the Continental troops
entered the town, with flags flying and drums beating.
“Watch out for my uncle and for Glen Drake,” Don said to Jud as the
two boys stood on a crowded street corner waiting for the head of the
column to appear.
“Yes, and you keep your eyes open for my father and for my brothers.”
From far off came the sound of drums and fifes. The crowd at the
corner, mostly boys and women, moved uneasily. “It’s Yankee Doodle
they’re playing,” whispered Jud. “Say, doesn’t that sound good!”
“It surely does!” agreed Don.
In a few minutes the regular tramp, tramp of marching feet reached the
ears of the eager little group.
“Here they are!”
A cavalcade of horses, white, black and chestnut, had turned a corner.
Behind them came the foot soldiers, resplendent in buff and blue, ruddy
of face, keen of eye.
“Hurrah! Hurrah!” Don and Jud swung their caps high into the air.
“Hurrah!” cried the rest of the little group.
But for the most part the main body of Continentals were greeted with
few cheers. The people of the besieged town had suffered too much under
Howe and the British; most of the inhabitants remained at doors and
windows and were content to wave their hands.
“There he is!” cried Jud.
“Who? Who?”
“General Washington! See, there on the big horse! Don, just look
how----”
But Don was not listening. All his attention was given to the man who
sat with such ease and dignity on the big horse. Never had he seen
anyone who looked so thoroughly like his ideal of a soldier. Tall and
well-proportioned, the general looked truly noble and majestic. His
coat was blue with buff facings, and on each shoulder he wore a rich
epaulette. His under dress was buff, and he wore a black cockade in his
hat. At his side hung an elegant small-sword.
The cavalcade swung past, and the two boys turned to each other at the
same time. “Jinks!” exclaimed Jud. “Wasn’t he fine!”
“Fine!” echoed Don and with a deep sigh turned again to view the troops.
Several ranks of foot soldiers had already passed, but the boys sharply
scrutinized those who were approaching. Company after company swung
past. Then Jud suddenly spied his father and the next instant one of
his brothers. Both recognized him and smiled as they passed. A few
minutes later he spied the other brother.
Don was worried; not a man had he seen who looked in the least like his
uncle or Glen. Company after company, regiment after regiment, marched
by, and somehow Don felt his lips beginning to quiver.
“It’s too bad, Don,” said Jud. “I’d hoped we’d see Glen and your uncle
right off. Here’s the end of the column. Maybe they’ll come later.”
Don made no answer; he was wondering how he could tell his aunt that
Uncle David had not entered with the troops. He bit his under lip.
Maybe his uncle’s wound had not healed. Maybe----
“I’ll see you later, Don,” Jud was saying. “Won’t Ma be glad when I
tell her!”
Don made his way dejectedly to the little house in Pudding Lane. He
could just picture his aunt’s face when he told her the news. He opened
the door and with head down stepped inside; the next instant, when he
lifted his eyes, he could hardly believe what he saw. There, standing
beside his aunt near the fireplace, resplendent in a captain’s uniform
was--David Hollis! His arm was round Aunt Martha’s waist, and she was
laughing and crying both at the same time. And there in one corner of
the room, looking almost as he had looked when Don had first seen him,
was Glen Drake!
“Donald, my lad!”
Don felt the breath almost squeezed from his body, for his uncle was
a big man. And then he felt the bones in his hand crunch as the old
trapper greeted him.
“Oh, this seems almost too good to be true!” Aunt Martha was saying.
For the next fifteen minutes questions and answers followed one another
in quick succession. Then at last Don asked gravely: “Uncle David,
where did you come from? I never saw you in the column.”
David Hollis laughed heartily. “I saw you, though; my company led the
column. But you were so interested in our general that you didn’t have
eyes for anybody else.”
“Never mind, Don,” said Glen; “he’s a fine man to look at, the general
is.”
“What a hard time you’ve had here!” said Uncle David. “Your aunt has
been telling me. My boy, I’m proud of you for the way you’ve acted and
especially for the way you kept the Redcoats from getting that stuff in
the cellar.”
“Yes, Don, you sure played the fox that time,” said Glen. “And now that
the Redcoats have gone, I’m thinking you and I and that other boy will
be able to do a little trapping in the woods together.”
“Now, David,” said Aunt Martha, “what are we going to do with the stuff
in the cellar? I don’t want it to remain there; truly I don’t.”
David Hollis laughed and turned to his nephew. “It’s yours, Donald,” he
said; “you’ve earned the right to it, I think; do with it as you wish.
Perhaps you can sell it.”
“Me--sell it!” exclaimed Don.
“It’s yours. My friend in the South doesn’t want it.”
“With all that cloth you won’t have to worry about breeches now for the
rest of your life, Don,” said Glen grinning.
Don did not reply; he was thinking hard.
The next morning while Glen and his uncle were with the troops he
entered the cellar and spent almost an hour making a list of the
supplies that were there. Then he hurried up-stairs and went out into
the street.
Half an hour later he was standing in front of a lieutenant in a large
hallway. “I’d like very much to see General Washington,” he said.
“Indeed,” said the lieutenant; “and what may be your business?”
“I have something to give him.”
“Indeed. You don’t look as if you had much to give.” The lieutenant
smiled good-naturedly. “I’m sorry to have to turn you away, but the
general is a busy man these days.”
Don fell back a pace and looked around him.
“I’m sorry----” the lieutenant was saying, when a door opened, and a
tall figure stepped into the hall.
Like a flash the lieutenant and several other officers who were
standing near by snapped to attention. It was Washington himself that
was walking quietly toward the entrance. Don gulped once, and then
before he knew what he was doing he had exclaimed:
“Sir--General Washington!”
The general turned, and Don pulled his slip of paper from his pocket
and handed it to him. “This is a list of goods that were in our cellar
all during the occupation,” he said. “My uncle, Capt. David Hollis,
gave them to me for keeping the Redcoats from getting them. I want to
give them to our army.”
Washington glanced at the paper--he seemed to read everything on it in
a single glance--and then turned to the boy. “The army will be very
grateful to have these supplies,” he said. “I thank you, my boy. You
are a true patriot.”
Don colored to the roots of his hair as he watched the general hand
the paper to the lieutenant and then turn and smile and pass into the
street.
“Donald!” cried Aunt Martha as Don burst noisily into the room. “What’s
the matter?”
“I gave the supplies to Washington!” cried Don. “I saw him, Aunt
Martha, and he said the army would be glad to get them. You know they
need stuff for uniforms, and especially powder.”
“Good for you, Donald! It’s the best thing you could have done with
them.”
“And, Aunt Martha, he said I was a true patriot!”
“You are, Donald; you’ve helped the cause.”
In another minute Don was, closely followed by Sailor, on his way to
Hog Alley to tell Jud the news. His eyes were bright, and his face
was flushed as he ran along the streets, which now were filled with
Continental uniforms. He had done something to help his country at last.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.