A DISCOMFITED CREDITOR.
On Saturday morning the city of Boston was in an ominous state of
quietude.
That the citizens were restless and uneasy, even the most casual
observer would have noted, as he walked through the streets where
knots of men and boys were congregated at different points, discussing
some subject with bated breath, and moving away whenever a stranger
approached.
That the troops were defiant and suspicious was also evident. The
soldiers did not walk through the streets singly, as had been their
custom; but in groups--squads would be a more appropriate term, for
they preserved some semblance of formation, even while lounging, as if
prepared for an expected attack.
It had not been Amos's purpose to venture out on this morning, and he
had very good reasons for remaining at home.
That which Hardy Baker had taunted him with on the evening previous
still rankled in his mind, and he understood better now than before
the encounter at Liberty Hall, that there were many who would not
hesitate to remind him of the fact that it was his uncle who had
deprived little Chris Snyder of life--his uncle, the informer, who
had been the first to resist, with deadly weapons, the citizens in a
demand for justice.
Amos was not a quarrelsome lad; although the acknowledged leader in
his particular circle of friends, he had never been a bully, neither
had he submitted tamely to an imposition.
He was fully determined to give Hardy Baker such a lesson on the evils
of using his tongue ill-advisedly and without precaution, as he would
not soon forget, although he did not intend to seek an interview with
the apprentice, who fancied himself rapidly becoming a leader of men;
but proposed to wait until he met the barber by chance rather than
intention, and then he was resolved that Hardy should receive a very
clear idea as to the necessity of curbing his speech.
The forenoon was well advanced when Jim Gray entered the house with an
exclamation of surprise and satisfaction.
"I never counted on finding you at home on this day of all others; but
just dropped in on the chance you might be here, since I have looked
everywhere else. Why are you keeping so snug when there is so much
going on?"
"What is being done? I heard no noise, and thought everything was
quiet."
"It is not what is being done, as what may happen at any time," Jim
replied, thoughtfully. "There is mischief in the air, and Liberty Hall
is packed as full as it was last night."
"Surely the people will do nothing to-day, for it was understood
yesterday that no demonstration was to be made until Monday."
"According to my way of thinking only a word is necessary to bring
about considerable trouble. It is said that the citizens have demanded
the removal of the troops, but Master Hutchinson will not listen to
their complaints."
"And if he does not, how can anything be effected? Surely the people
of Boston will not try conclusions against a regiment of soldiers."
"Some of the crowd are in the humour for anything desperate, and they
are the ones with whom Hardy Baker has made friends. He is talking
very fiercely now, and showing his blackened eye freely as a reason
why there should be no delay in forcing the soldiers to leave the city."
"A blackened eye? Has he been fighting already?"
"I don't think he had much chance to do anything of that sort; but
this is the story he told Chris Gore, from whose home I have just
come: After the meeting last night, and when it had been fully decided
that nothing should be done until Monday, Hardy, having an idea the
Britishers would be frightened, thought it a good time to demand
payment from Lieutenant Draper. Without heeding the warning which the
officer gave him on the morning poor little Chris Snyder was killed,
Hardy went to the Custom House again this forenoon, and says he simply
asked to see the lieutenant; but most likely he was as insulting as
when he met that officer on Hanover Street. The sentry knocked him
down, and now Hardy shows the wound as his claim to be considered a
living martyr. It may be exactly as he says, that the soldier had no
provocation, other than the demand to see the lieutenant; but I don't
believe that portion of the story, for after yesterday's troubles it
isn't reasonable to suppose the troops would invite another conflict
with the citizens. It is said they have been ordered to hold no
communication whatever with the people, and it is positive that the
sentry at the Custom House struck Hardy."
"I suppose he is now more violent than ever?"
"Yes, and has a stronger belief that his countrymen depend upon him to
avenge their wrongs. Come down to Liberty Hall, and see him make a
spectacle of himself."
"I think it is wiser for me to stay here."
"Why?" Jim asked, in surprise.
"Because, if I should meet Hardy now, while he is so puffed up with
pride because he has been attacked by one of the enemy, he might say
something which would lead to an encounter between us; and I don't think
it would be well to raise any disturbance on the street at this time."
"Perhaps you are right; but yet--"
Jim was interrupted by the noise as of a heavy blow against the side
of the house, which was repeated half a dozen times before either of
the boys could step to the window.
Then came threatening cries:
"We have got one Richardson in jail; now bring out the others!"
"Drive out the informers!"
[Illustration]
"Boston is no place for assassins!"
By this time Amos and Jim were where they could look into the street;
but a view of what was taking place there was not necessary to explain
to them the cause of this sudden attack.
They knew that Master Piemont's assistant was making good his threat
of the previous evening.
Ten or a dozen half-grown boys, with the barber's apprentice at their
head, were pelting the house with missiles of every kind, and Amos's
mother cried frantically, as her son was on the point of rushing out
to put an end to the disturbance:
"Don't show yourself, my boy, don't show yourself! After what has
happened, we must expect that the sins of your uncle will in some
degree be visited upon us, and you must do nothing rash, particularly
while your father is away from home."
"But, mother, this is only some of Hardy Baker's doings, and I can
soon put an end to it, once I get that precious little villain by the
throat."
"You would add to the disgrace by fighting on the street?"
"I would show the barber's apprentice that he can't insult honest
people without bearing the consequences."
"Come on!" Jim cried, impatiently. "Two of us can handle that crowd!"
Mrs. Richardson clung to her son imploringly, crying that he would be
killed if he ventured into the street, and there seemed good reason
for her fears, since if any one of the missiles, which were being
hurled so freely against the building, should strike him, it would
inflict serious injury.
[Illustration]
As the moments passed and no reply was made by the inmates of the
house to the epithets, Harry's squad grew bolder. Instead of
contenting themselves with defacing the building, they proceeded to do
all the damage possible.
The more serious mischief was begun by the barber's apprentice
himself, as he threw a lump of frozen earth directly through the
window, causing the splintered glass to fly in every direction, and
one of the fragments struck Mrs. Richardson on the cheek with
sufficient force to draw blood. Amos could no longer control his
temper; shaking off his mother's detaining grasp, he flung open the
outer door, and, followed closely by Jim, leaped directly into the
midst of the throng.
More than one of the missiles struck him; but he was not conscious of
the fact. He only saw Hardy Baker, and had no other thought than that
by administering swift punishment to him the attack would be brought
to an end.
Master Piemont's assistant saw his late friends making their way
directly toward him, regardless of every one else, and understood
their purpose.
It had not been his intention to have a personal encounter with Amos.
He had recruited his squad from the more turbulent and violent spirits
gathered under the Liberty Tree, and believed it was sufficiently large
to protect him. Being their leader, he supposed every member of the
party would be on the alert to defend him; but in this he was mistaken.
As soon as Amos and Jim showed themselves, the shower of missiles
ceased, and the mischief-makers stepped aside to give them free
passage.
"Close up here!" Hardy shouted, frantically. "Why are you fellows
backing down now? There are enough of us to flog the life out of this
portion of the murderer's family! Stand by me! Are you going to allow
both these boys to do as they please, without your lifting a hand?"
"Only one of us will deal with you, Hardy Baker," Amos cried angrily,
as he seized him by the collar. "Stand back, Jim, and see that I have
fair play. There's no need of your doing anything, unless this
barber's gang do as he asks them."
"Help! Help! Come here, some of you fellows! What did you promise
before we left Liberty Hall?" Hardy shouted frantically, as he writhed
in Amos's clutch.
One or two of the party made a movement, as if they would answer this
appeal; but Jim Gray, although he had no appearance of an athlete,
looked particularly dangerous as he said, sharply:
"If you are wise, you'll keep your distance. Hardy Baker brought you
here to insult honest people who would scorn to have dealings with
informers, even though they do chance to be of the same family. He
lied to you, and you should let him attend to his own affairs. It is
an even-handed battle, and both shall have fair play so far as I am
concerned."
"That is all any fellow could ask for," one of the party cried,
forgetting, in his desire to witness the encounter, that he had come
on an alleged public mission. "If you'll agree not to touch our man,
we will see to it that yours has his rights."
"That's all I want," Jim replied, grimly, and added to Amos, who, still
holding Hardy firmly by the collar, had stopped to learn what part the
barber's followers proposed to take: "Now is your time; the rest of
these fellows agree to fair play, and I reckon no one will disturb you."
Hardy Baker was terrified, as could be told by the expression on his
face, and he cried, shrilly:
"Why don't some of you cowards do as you agreed, and stand by me?"
"That's what we're going to do," the boy who had spoken with Jim
replied. "No one shall interfere, and you said it wouldn't take you
five minutes to disable Amos Richardson for life. Now go ahead and do
it. If any one attempts to help him, we'll pitch in."
There was no further opportunity for the barber's apprentice to appeal
to his followers.
Shaking him vigorously, as if with the idea that after such treatment
he could better understand the words, Amos said, in a tone
sufficiently loud for all to hear:
"I came out here simply to give you a flogging, Hardy Baker, and did
not intend to waste any time about it; but so long as your friends are
willing to stand by honestly, you shall have a chance to prove you can
do what you boasted of being able to do."
Then Amos released his hold of the barber's collar, in order that the
latter might be in a position to defend himself.
Hardy could do no less than strike out in his own defence, for it was
not possible to beat a retreat; but his efforts were as feeble as they
were vain. Before five minutes had passed Master Piemont's assistant
was the most thoroughly whipped boy in the Colony of Massachusetts,
and perfectly willing to acknowledge himself such, if by so doing he
could prevent a continuation of the punishment.
"I can't strike a fellow when he will no longer defend himself," Amos
said, as if in apology, after Hardy was so cowed as to remain passive
under the blows. "I don't reckon you other fellows really knew what
you were about when you came here to raise a row, so we'll let the
matter end here. Until last night this barber and I were good friends,
and would have been this moment, but for the fact that I refused to
make a street brawler of myself, as he demanded. It is true Ebenezer
Richardson is my uncle; but neither my father nor myself are of his
way of thinking, as this whipped cur knows thoroughly well. I have
been as ready to cry down an informer as any of you, therefore why
should my father's house be attacked?"
"He told us you were hand in glove with the 'bloody backs,'" one of
the party said, as he motioned toward the prostrate barber.
"And he was lying. Ask any of the boys who know me whether that is
true. You can believe Chris Gore, who was wounded the same day Chris
Snyder was killed; ask him!"
"And why not ask me?" Jim Gray cried. "It was Amos Richardson who had
charge of putting the warning in front of Master Lillie's store."
"Hardy Baker said he and Chris Snyder did that alone," one of the
barber's followers shouted, and Jim replied:
"All the part he took was to help carry the pole from my house over to
Hanover Street. Amos had charge of the whole matter, and yet you
believe he is friendly with the 'bloody backs,' just because he
happens to have an uncle who is no honour to the family."
"We shouldn't have known anything about it, but for the barber, and if
you think he hasn't had enough, we'll finish flogging him."
Hardy, who had not dared to move from the moment Amos ceased punishing
him, now looked even more terrified than before, until the latter
replied:
"No good will come of abusing him. Let him alone, and in the future I
reckon he'll tell the truth."
"He will never tell us anything again that we shall believe," one of
the attacking party said. "I'm sorry we let a liar like him lead us on
to what we've done against you, and I'll agree we won't make such a
mistake again, if you'll call it settled. Come down to the Liberty
Tree with us, you two fellows, and let's see what's going on there."
Amos, eager to get the throng away from his father's house, accepted
the invitation at once, and he and Jim marched in the midst of their
late enemies, while Master Piemont's assistant was left alone to
nurse, at the same time, his wounds and his anger.
The throng at Liberty Hall was as great as Amos had ever seen it at
any time; but decidedly more quiet and orderly than on the previous
evening.
It was as if, having decided upon a definite plan, the people were
willing to wait quietly until the hour set for action should arrive.
It was rumoured that the Sons of Liberty, as an organisation, had
agreed to head the populace in a peremptory demand for the removal of
the troops, which was to be made on the following Monday; but Amos
failed to learn that there was any good foundation for this rumour. It
was known positively that the Sons of Liberty had laid the grievances
of the people before the Governor and Council, but there were many at
Liberty Hall who doubted if the members of the Society would
countenance the actions of the mob.
"It seems as if poor little Chris was forgotten already," Jim Gray
said, after he and Amos had listened to several hot-headed speakers
urging the people to rise in their might. "Now they talk only of the
attack upon the rope-makers, and hardly mention his name."
"That is because the trouble at your father's ropewalk was brought about
by the soldiers, while Chris was murdered by one of our own people, if
we are willing to acknowledge that Ebenezer Richardson was one of us."
"Does he never visit at your house?"
"He hasn't since the day Master John Hancock was arrested in regard to
the seizure of his sloop. That was the first time he showed himself an
enemy to the Colonies, and father declared he was no longer a brother
of his. Don't talk about him any longer. It's a subject that makes me
sick at heart. Suppose we go down to see Chris Gore? It will be better
than standing here listening to these men, who have but little idea of
the subject they are pretending to discuss.
The wound on Chris's shoulder was healing rapidly; but it was not
deemed safe for him to venture out-of-doors yet, and his comrades felt
it their duty to give him a detailed account of all that had occurred
during the day.
The snow was beginning to fall when Amos and Jim left Mr. Gore's home,
and before the next morning it had covered the earth with a mantle of
dazzling whiteness.