The air was yet chill with the fresh north-wind, that had blown all
day, to go down only with the sun, while the misty horizon of the
afternoon was now a well-defined fog-bank rolling in from over the sea,
and sending a damp breath in advance of its own coming.
"We shall have a nasty night," said Hugh, looking at the smoke-like
wall. He and Dorothy were again riding side by side, with the other
two just ahead, but out of ear-shot, and they were making a short
detour across the fields, their course taking them past the Jameson
place.
It was a pretentious-looking house, painted white, with green blinds;
and a broad piazza was set back amid the fluted columns that ran up to
support the upper floor, whose dormer windows jutted out among the
branches of the oak and elm trees. On the piazza, were several
scarlet-coated gentry.
"Enjoying himself, no doubt, with rogues of his own ilk," was John
Devereux's comment, as he looked over his shoulder at Hugh,--the two
now being quite close to one another.
"There might be a thousand rather than a hundred of the redcoats at the
Neck, by the way they seem to be ever turning up about the place," Hugh
muttered in reply, without taking the trouble to look toward the house.
"And here come some more," announced Mary, in a tone of disgust, as
half-a-dozen scarlet coats appeared suddenly in the field before them.
They were riding at a reckless pace which soon brought them abreast of
the four, who were now taking their way quite soberly. And as they
swept past, the officer in the rear doffed his hat, while he bent his
eyes upon Dorothy's flushed face with an intensity that made Hugh
Knollys say half aloud, "The impudent young dog--what does he mean?"
Mary Broughton sat rigidly in her saddle, turning her head away at
sight of the face disclosed by the uplifted hat. But Dorothy smiled
shyly into the bright, daring eyes.
A little farther along they came upon three fishermen trudging the same
way as they were bound, one of them being young Bait, whose attempt at
singing had brought upon him Doak's wrath the night before.
"Jameson be givin' a dinner to some o' the redcoats," he said, as the
riders overtook him and his companions, one of whom added angrily,--
"An' he best have a care that he don't get his roof burnt over him an'
his d----d King's friends."
"Have a care yourself, man," said John Devereux, warningly. "'T is not
wise to do aught yet that will give them a handle to use for our own
hurt."
"Aye," muttered the third, "that may do for now. But if Jameson don't
go with his own sort when they leave the place, it may not be so easy
for him as it has been in the past."
"How long, think ye, Master John, afore the redcoats quit the Neck?"
inquired Bait.
"That were a hard matter for any one to say," was the young man's
reply. Then, as he urged his horse forward, he turned to add over his
shoulder, "But take my advice, and avoid any brawling with the
soldiers, for the present, should you run foul of them."
"That will have to be as it may," one of the men answered doggedly,
"accordin' as to how they mind their own affairs and let us alone."
"We shall come to have fighting in our streets yet, Jack; you may be
sure of it," said Hugh Knollys. "Our men can never brook with any
patience the swaggering of these impudent fellows."
The other glanced at him warningly, with a significant motion of the
head toward Dorothy; but the girl did not appear to notice their talk,
and was looking dreamingly away into the distance.
Mary Broughton, who was slightly in advance, turned her head; and Hugh
saw how her blue eyes were kindling as she exclaimed, "I, for one,
should not care if we _did_ come to blows! I'd like to see our men
show the Britishers that they cannot have matters altogether their own
way down here."
"Would you like to take a gun yourself, Mary, and help teach them this
lesson?" was Hugh's laughing question.
"Yes," she declared resolutely. "And I am sure I could handle it, too."
"You'll never need to do that, sweetheart, so long as I live to carry
out your mind," said Jack, who had been wondering why Hugh looked at
Dorothy so oddly, and why she was so strangely silent.
When the early evening meal was over that night, the two young men took
their way into the town, where a meeting was to be held.
Old Leet rowed them down, they preferring this as being least likely to
attract notice; and avoiding the old wharf, they landed on the beach,
near the warehouses, thence taking their way cautiously through the
fish-flakes that filled the fields, until they reached the streets up
in the town. These were deserted, but filled with lurking shadows,
being dimly lit by a stray lamp fastened here and there to the
buildings.
They walked slowly toward the town hall, while they talked in low tones
of Jameson, making no doubt but that his attentions and hospitality to
the Britishers would be known and commented upon at the meeting.
When close to the hall a wild clamor broke out from somewhere ahead of
them; and they hurried forward to learn what it might mean.
It was a street fight between the redcoats and the townspeople; and
although no powder was being used, strong arms and hard fists were
doing almost as painful work.
The British frigate "Lively" had dropped anchor in the harbor at
sunset, and as soon as darkness came, a press-gang had been sent on
shore to capture such sturdy fishermen as might be abroad, and impress
them into the service of His Majesty's navy.
Several men had already been taken, and they were resisting most
lustily, while such of their friends as chanced to be in the streets
were coming to their rescue.
But these were few in number, as most of the citizens who were not at
their homes were now gathered in the town hall, awaiting the opening of
the meeting, which was to be of more than usual importance, as measures
were to be taken with respect to the new tyranny indicated by the
presence of soldiers quartered upon the Neck.
While the two young men paused on a street corner overlooking the
combatants, hesitating as to what might be the best thing for them to
do, the light from a house over the way shone down upon one figure, as
though singling it out from the others.
It was that of a swarthy, strongly built young fellow, taller than most
of those about him, and with a bright, resolute face. Hatless, and in
his shirt-sleeves, he was raining heavy blows upon such of the enemy as
sought to lay hands on him.
"'T is Jem Mugford!" exclaimed Hugh. "See, Jack, what a gallant fight
he is making for himself!"
Mugford was well known in the town, and was already, despite his youth,
the captain of a merchant vessel. He had been but recently married;
and Jack and Hugh recalled the sunny morning when they saw him, looking
so handsome and happy, alongside the pretty girl he had just taken for
his wife.
They both, moved by the same impulse, now made a dash toward him; but
the surging crowd--of friends and foes alike--came between in a way to
frustrate their intention. Then, while they were still struggling to
reach him, there went up a loud, angry shout bristling with vigorous
oaths: "They've got Jem! They've got him an' carried him off! Squael
'em, squael 'em!"[1]
[1] "Rock them!" i.e. "Throw rocks at them!"
The cries and tumult were deafening; and the dark mass rolled slowly
down the street, leaving the young men almost alone.
"'T is an outrage!" exclaimed Hugh Knollys, panting from his unavailing
exertions. "We need all of us to carry guns to guard against such
dastardly work. What will his poor wife do, and her father, now that
they'll not have Jem to look to for support and defence?"
"I take it she will not lack for good defenders," answered Jack, his
voice trembling with anger, "not so long as you and I live in the town,
to say naught of his other friends. With the enemy in our harbor, and
amongst us in the very town, the quicker we arm the better, say I. Let
us go first to see Mistress Mugford, and then we'll go to the hall."
But Hugh held back, for he had a wholesome dread of women's tears and
hysterics.
"There will be plenty to tell her the bad news, poor soul," he said;
"and women, too, who will know best how to console and comfort her."
Jack saw the force of this, and did not press the matter; so they took
their way to the town hall, which was already crowded, although its
tightly shuttered windows gave no sign of the life within. The door
was strongly barred, and only opened to the new-comers after they had
satisfied the sentinel on guard of their right to be admitted.
Gray heads and brown were there, the old and the young, representing
the best blood of the town. And there was a generous sprinkling of
weather-beaten and stout-hearted sailors and fishermen, who listened
silently, with grave faces and eager eyes, to all that was said.
The talk was for the most part a review of matters considered at former
meetings, to the effect that Parliament, being a body wherein no member
represented the colonies, had yet undertaken the making of laws
affecting not only the property, but the liberty and lives of His
Majesty's American subjects--it was argued that such right did not
exist, nor any authority to annul or in any manner alter the charter of
the Province, nor to interfere with its councillors, justices,
sheriffs, or jurors.
The matter of the British soldiers being quartered upon the Neck was
also taken up, and with it the outrage committed that very evening by
the press-gang; and in view of these attacks upon the peace of the town
it was deemed wise to push forward at once the measures already
agitated looking to protection and safety.
The fort was to be repaired, and put in condition for proper defence.
The militia consisted at this time of a regiment of seven companies of
active, well-disciplined men, but under the command of officers
commissioned by Governor Gage or his predecessors. It was deemed
expedient that these should no longer act, but that they should be
replaced by others chosen by vote of the town. And every citizen
should possess himself of a firearm and bayonet, both in good order,
and should be equipped with thirty rounds of cartridges and ball, as
well as a pouch and knapsack.
It was also resolved that effectual measures be taken for the
silencing, or expulsion from the community, of those "ministerial tools
and Jacobites," who persisted in opposing the action of the various
committees, or else held themselves aloof from taking part in the
measures needful to protect the rights of the Province and people.
These men who thus spoke and conferred with each other were an
impressive embodiment of the spirit which actuated the entire
community. Their looks and words were glowing with prayerful
earnestness, their manner full of dignity and solemnity.
The memory of these,--of their lofty ideality of aspiration, of the
purity of their principles and motives, their love of country and
integrity of purpose,--all this is a sacred treasure for the old town,
and one still potent with patriotic influence.
Theirs was not the courage that shows forth in bravado, and which
delights, from mere exuberance of spirit, in defying peril for its own
sake. Rather was it the true, deeper courage of devotion,--the courage
that sacrificed self for others, and which for principle and what was
deemed simple duty was ready to endure all things. It was the devotion
that would accept all results, would meet death, if needs be, or wear
life away in slow suffering.
Such courage was the solid material, not the flash and glitter that
pleases and bewilders, and then is as unremembered as is the pebble a
child tosses into the sea, and having watched the ripple it makes,
never thinks of again.
All this has become the priceless jewel of our national history for all
time, the salt that gives savor to our country's life. The keynote of
it was this,--these men truly loved their country, and were its loyal,
steadfast friends. And are we not told from the highest of all high
sources that "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down
his life for his friends"?