E-text prepared by Bruce Thomas and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team from images provided by the Internet Archive
and the University of Florida
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 15938-h.htm or 15938-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/3/15938/15938-h/15938-h.htm)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/9/3/15938/15938-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through the Florida
Board of Education, Division of Colleges and Universities,
PALMM Project, 2001. (Preservation and Access for American and
British Children's Literature, 1850-1869.) See
http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001775.jpg
or
http://purl.fcla.edu/fcla/dl/UF00001775.pdf
The Young American's Library
THE YANKEE TEA-PARTY;
Or, Boston in 1773
by
HENRY C. WATSON,
Author of "The Camp-Fires of the American Revolution,"
"The Old Bell of Independence," etc. etc.
With Illustrations
Philadelphia:
Lindsay And Blakiston
* * * * *
Lindsay & Blakiston's Publications.
THE YOUNG AMERICAN'S LIBRARY;
A USEFUL AND ATTRACTIVE SERIES OF BOOKS FOR
YOUNG PEOPLE:
EMBRACING EVENTS CONNECTED WITH THE EARLY HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY,
AND LIVES OF ITS DISTINGUISHED MEN.
Written with much care, and in an entertaining and instructive manner.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS OF IMPORTANT EVENTS, AND BEAUTIFULLY ILLUMINATED
TITLE PAGES.
* * * * *
LIFE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Franklin as a Tallow Chandler.
Franklin at the Printing Press.
Franklin's first Arrival in Philadelphia.
Franklin acting as his own Porter.
The Philadelphia Library, founded by Franklin.
Franklin attracting Lightning from the Clouds.
Franklin Signing the Declaration of Independence.
Franklin as a Statesman.
LIFE OF GENERAL WASHINGTON.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Washington at Eighteen.
Washington Crossing the Allegheny.
Surrender of Cornwallis.
A View of Mount Vernon.
Washington Crossing the Delaware.
Washington at Valley Forge.
The Washington Family.
The Tomb of Washington.
LIFE OF LAFAYETTE.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Lafayette as Commander of the National Guard.
Lafayette Offering his Services to Washington.
Lafayette at the Battle of Brandywine.
Battle of Monmouth.
Lafayette's Final Interview with Washington.
Lafayette's Arrival at New York.
Triumphal Arch at Philadelphia.
Lafayette's Tomb.
LIFE OF WILLIAM PENN.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Portrait of William Penn.
Penn receiving Instruction from his Mother.
Penn receiving a Visit from his Mother in Prison.
Penn Landing at Chester.
Visit to the Indian Country.
Penn's Treaty with the Indians.
Penn's Cottage. Laetitia Court.
Penn's Residence at Philadelphia.
LIFE OF MARION.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Marion as a Trooper.
The Last Shot.
Marion and the Raw Recruits.
Sergeant McDonald and the Tory.
The Famous Potato Dinner.
Colonel Campbell taken Prisoner.
Macdonald's Message to Colonel Watson.
Mrs. Motte and the Bow and Arrows.
LIFE OF DANIEL WEBSTER.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Young Daniel at the Saw Mill.
Webster Fishing at Fryburg.
Webster Declining the Clerkship.
Webster Expounding the Constitution.
The Bunker Hill Celebration.
Webster at Faneuil Hall.
Marshfield, the Residence of Webster.
Webster on his Farm.
LIFE OF HENRY CLAY.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Henry Clay the Statesman.
The Village School.
The Birthplace of Clay.
The Mill Boy of the Slashes.
The Debating Society.
Bolivar Reading Clay's Speech to the Army.
The Residence of Mr. Clay.
The Torchlight Procession.
LIFE OF ANDREW JACKSON.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
A Portrait of Jackson.
Jackson's Presence of Mind.
Jackson's Narrow Escape.
Jackson and the Acorns.
Jackson as Judge.
Jackson and the Indian Prisoners.
The Battle of New Orleans.
Jackson at the Hermitage.
LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Napoleon's Snow Fortress.
The Battle of the Pyramids.
Napoleon's Retreat from Russia.
Napoleon's Return from Elba.
The Bridge of Arcola.
The Battle of Marengo.
Napoleon before the Battle of Austerlitz.
Napoleon Drawing a Plan of Attack.
THE YANKEE TEA-PARTY,
AND OTHER STORIES OF THE REVOLUTION.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Boston Tea-Party.
Hezekiah Wyman.
Mr. Bleeker and his Son.
Tarleton Breaking the Horse.
Lee's Legion.
Seizure of the Bettys.
Exhibit of Colonel McCain.
General Morgan.
THE OLD BELL OF INDEPENDENCE,
OR PHILADELPHIA IN 1776.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Old State House Bell.
Washington's Prayer for the Dying Soldier.
Defeat of the Skinners at Deadman's Lake.
The Story of the Half-Breed.
The Outlaws of the Pines.
The Battle of the Kegs.
Capture of General Prescott.
Riley going to the Place of Execution.
LIFE OF GENERAL TAYLOR.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Portrait of General Taylor.
Defence of Fort Harrison.
Battle of Okee Chobee.
Capture of General La Vega.
The Streets of Monterey.
Capitulation of Monterey.
General Taylor Never Surrenders.
Charge of the Kentuckians at Buena Vista.
Each of these volumes is well written, in a high, moral tone by
responsible authors, and contains numerous anecdotes, illustrative of
the early and latter history of our country. The compact style in which
these works are written, as well as their _low price_, make them well
adapted for Family, School, or District Libraries.
Price per Volume, 56-1/4 Cents, Cloth gilt. In Setts, neatly done up
in Boxes, $6 75.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
THE YANKEE TEA-PARTY;
Or, Boston in 1773
by
HENRY C. WATSON
PREFACE.
In explanation of the plan of this work, it may be stated, that such an
occasion as that upon which the outline events happened seemed to us
most proper for the object in view. A Fourth of July festival in the old
rendezvous of the Boston Tea-party is surely well calculated to excite
patriotic feeling; and when to those who participated in the festival
are added a number of the veterans of the War of Independence, filled
with glorious recollections, the effect is to turn the mind to the
admiration and veneration of the men and deeds of the "trying time."
No event excites more interest among Americans than the destruction of
the tea in Boston harbour. Then and there, the unconquerable resolution
of freemen was first made apparent to the obstinate oppressors of our
infant country. Yet, until of late years, the history of the affair was
very imperfectly known, and the names of the men who participated in it
scarcely mentioned. In these pages will be found a faithful account of
this glorious exploit, and, in connection with the other narratives, it
is hoped it will kindle in the breasts of young readers an enthusiasm
for liberty and a love of heroic excellence.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION
THE LEBANON CLUB
THE SKIRMISH AT LEXINGTON
THE FIGHT AT CONCORD
THE FIFER'S STORY
ARNOLD'S EXPEDITION
EXPEDITION AGAINST TICONDEROGA
PUTNAM'S ESCAPE
THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON
CAPTURE OF GENERAL SULLIVAN
PATRIOTISM OF MRS. BORDEN
ESCAPE OF CAPTAIN PLUNKETT
TREASON OF RUGSDALE
CRUELTY OF TARLTON
LEE'S LEGION
ATTACK ON GENERAL WAYNE
THE MUTINY AT MORRISTOWN
THE TREASON OF BETTYS
THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL
EXPLOITS OF PETER FRANCISCO
EXPLOIT OF COLONEL ALLAN M'LEAN
THE ADVENTURE OF MAJOR LEE
GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN
BATTLE OF ORISKANY
CONCLUSION
INTRODUCTION.
Those who have been associated in the performance of any deed of valor
or patriotism ever feel attracted to each other by an influence stronger
and nobler than that of friendship. The daring patriots who joined in
resistance to the tyrannizing might of Britain, were men pledged to die
rather than betray each other, and to maintain their rights while they
could lift the sword or aim the musket; and that pledge made them look
upon each other in after years, when the storm of war was hushed and
security dwelt at the fireside, as brothers whom no petty cause could
sunder nor ill report make foes. These remarks apply, especially, to
those who first threw themselves into the breach, and resolved that, if
the British ministry would adopt such measures as the stamp act, their
execution should be resisted and become difficult, and if such measures
were passed as the act taxing tea, coffee, and the comforts of life,
that the tea should never be landed, and thus prove a loss to its
owners. The men who threw the tea into Boston harbor were patriots
united by a sense that union was necessary for the salvation of liberty;
and they were attracted to each other by the same influence during the
bloody struggle which succeeded. What wonder, then, that they loved to
meet in after years, to wish each other health and happiness, and chat
over the stirring events in which they had participated, and to which
their first bold deed was as the spark to dry hay, kindling to a fierce
blaze the ready seeds of war.
It was the fourth of July in Boston. Throughout the city which cradled
the Revolution, the anniversary of the birth of the free and happy
United States of America was celebrated with rejoicings unknown to the
shackled people of monarchical countries. Meetings were held in various
parts of the city, patriotic and democratic speeches made, bells rung,
cannons fired, pistols, crackers, and fireworks of all descriptions
discharged, toasts drank, and festivities of all kinds indulged. The
soldiers paraded the streets with fine bands discoursing most excellent
music, and followed by the usual crowd. Bunker Hill was the scene of a
large patriotic meeting, and the events of the 'trying time' were again
and again recounted with much enthusiasm.
But a more unusual and far more interesting meeting occurred in Boston,
about a quarter of a mile from the wharf known ever since the
commencement of the Revolution as Griffin's Wharf. In the upper room of
an old and somewhat dilapidated tavern were assembled a party of old and
young men--the representatives of two generations. Three of the old men
were the remaining members of the famous Lebanon Club; the first liberty
club formed in the colonies, and the one which designed and executed the
project of destroying the tea at Boston. They had come from various
parts of the country, upon agreement, to meet once more in the house
where the disguised members of the club had met on the evening of the
sixteenth of December, 1773. The names of the old patriots were David
Kinnison, Adam Colson, and Lendall Pitts. Five other veterans had joined
the party by invitation, together with half-a-dozen young men who had
arranged the meeting and paid all expenses, with a view of passing the
Fourth of July in a novel and interesting manner.
A well-laden table extended the whole length of the room, and flags,
banners, and appropriate emblems and devices, were hung on the walls.
There was no formal organization, as at public festivals, no president
elected, and no list of toasts prepared. It was intended to be a
sociable gathering. No band of well-arranged and harmonized instruments
appeared, but old Jacob Brown and old Samuel Hanson, a fifer and a
drummer of the continental army, occasionally stirred the hearts and
fired the eyes of the company with the music which had nerved the
patriots of Bunker's Hill and Bennington. Each of the veterans sat in an
arm-chair at the table, the young men being distributed among them so as
to wait upon them occasionally, and show them every attention.
Mr. Kinnison, though not the oldest man of the company, looked as if he
had seen the hardest service, and received the hardest buffets of Time.
His features bespoke a strong and energetic mind, and his eye was full
of fire and activity. His hair was grey and bushy, partly covering a
large scar on his high forehead. He had evidently been a man of powerful
frame, but was now bent with the weight of years, and service. The other
veterans appeared to be generally of the same age, and to have seen hard
toil and service. The fifer was the most remarkable of the party. In
spite of his age and white hair, his puffed cheeks and the sly twinkle
of his eyes gave him a kind of jolly, frolicsome appearance, which would
indicate that age could not chill the humor of his heart.
THE LEBANON CLUB.
When the company were fairly seated at the table, Mr. Kinnison opened
the conversation by asking the young men if they had ever heard any
account of the Lebanon Liberty Club. They replied they had heard of the
club, but never any definite account.
"Well," said Mr. Kinnison, "I can tell you something about it. Mr.
Pitts, Mr. Colson, and myself, were members of a club consisting of
seventeen men, living at Lebanon, up here in Maine. Most of us were
farmers. We knew what them folks over the river were aiming at, and we
knew that there was no use of dallying about matters. Our rights were to
be untouched, or there must be a fight. So, you see, we Lebanon men
resolved to form a club, to consider what was to be done, and to do
accordingly. We hired a room in the tavern of Colonel Gooding, and held
regular meetings at night. The colonel was an American of the right
color, but we kept our object secret, not even letting him into it."
"If it isn't too much trouble, Mr. Kinnison, we should like you to tell
us all about what the club had to do with the tea-party, and how that
affair was conducted," said one of the young men, named Hand, filling
the veteran's plate.
"He can tell you much better than any one else," remarked Mr. Pitts. "I
can vouch for the bold part he took in it, and he has a better memory
than the rest of us."
"No flattery, Pitts," returned Mr. Kinnison. "My memory 's bad enough,
and as for taking such a bold part in that tea-party, it's all nonsense.
If there was a leader, you was the man. But I'll tell these young men
all I know of the affair, and what the Lebanon Club had to do with it."
"Take some of this beef, Mr. Brown?" interrupted Hand.
"Much obliged, sir, but beef is rather too tough for my gums," replied
the old fifer. "I'll try something else." Mr. Kinnison went on with his
narrative.
"Well, the seventeen men of our club determined, whether we were aided
or not, to destroy the tea which the East India Company had sent to
Boston. The plan was soon formed, as it always is when men are
determined to do a thing. We wanted no captain--each man could command
for himself. We resolved to disguise ourselves in Mohawk dresses, and
carry such arms as would enable us to sell our lives pretty dearly; we
also pledged ourselves never to reveal the names of any of the party
while there was danger in it. We expected to have a fight anyhow, and
the first man who faltered was to be thrown overboard with the tea. We
came to Boston and found the people ripe for the deed. A great meeting
was to be held at the old South Meeting-house, and we concluded to wait
and see what would be done there. We lodged at this tavern, and held our
councils up in this room. Well, there was a tremendous meeting at the
Old South, and most of us were there to help to keep up the excitement,
and to push our plan if a chance appeared. Young Quincy made a speech
that stirred the people, and made them ready for anything which would
show their spirit. The people voted with one voice that the tea should
not be landed. We saw how things were going, came back to the tavern,
put on our Mohawk dresses, and returned to the meeting. Pitts succeeded
in getting into the church just about dusk and raising the war-whoop. We
answered outside. Then Pitts cried out, 'Boston harbor a tea-pot
to-night!'
"Ay," exclaimed Pitts, brandishing his knife above his head, "and 'hurra
for Griffin's Wharf!'"
"The crowd echoed Griffin's Wharf," continued Kinnison, "and hurried
towards that place. Our men joined together, returned to the tavern, got
our muskets and tomahawks, and collected about seventy men together,
armed with axes and hatchets. Then we pushed for the wharf where the
East Indiamen, loaded with the tea, were lying. Let me see!--The ships
were called the Dartmouth, the--"
"The Eleanor, and the Beaver," prompted Colson.
"Ay, the Dartmouth, the Eleanor, and the Beaver," continued Kinnison.
"You see, my memory 's weak. Well, when we reached the wharf, there was
a crowd of people near it. It was a clear, moonlight night, and the
British squadron was not more than a quarter of a mile distant--so, you
see, there was a little risk. We didn't halt long. Pitts led the way on
board the Dartmouth, and we followed, musket and tomahawk in hand.
Nobody offered any show of fighting for the tea. We cut open the
hatches, and some of the men went down and passed up the chests, while
others cut 'em open and emptied the green stuff into the water. The crew
of the vessel were afeard to stir in stopping us, for we told 'em we'd
shoot the first man who interfered. I tell you, there was quick work
there. When we had cleared that ship of the tea, we hurried off to the
others, Pitts still leading the way, and did the same kind of work for
them. The people began to crowd on the wharf, and some of 'em came to
help us. I guess there was about a hundred and fifty of us on the third
ship, all hard at work passing up the chests, cutting 'em open and
spilling the tea. Within two hours, about three hundred and fifty chests
of the tea were thus destroyed. The crowd cheered us once in a while,
and we knew we'd have friends enough if the red-coats attempted to
attack us. When we had emptied the last chest that could be found, we
gave three of the loudest cheers and gained the wharf. A drummer and
fifer were ready, as Mr. Brown and Mr. Hanson can inform you, and we
formed a procession and marched up to this tavern. Here the crowd gave
our band of Mohawks cheer after cheer ond then dispersed. But we didn't
intend to end the night's work so quietly. We had a supper prepared just
where we are now eating, and Josiah Quincy and some other big men came
to join us. We made a night of it, I tell you. Pitts, I think, got very
drunk, so many wanted to drink with such a bold patriot."
Pitts was rather disposed to deny the assertion that he was actually
drunk; but Kinnison and Colson said it was a fact, and he, at length,
admitted that he was considerably excited, perhaps beyond the command of
his reason. The company laughed at this 'getting around the stump,' and
one of the young men proposed that Pitts' health should be drank in a
glass of ale. The beverage was ordered and the health of the patriot
drank with a hearty relish. The work of demolishing the eatables then
went bravely on.
"Mr. Kinnison," said Mr. Colson, "there's one incident concerning that
tea-party that has slipped your memory. As our procession moved from the
wharf and passed the house of the tory Coffin, Admiral Montague raised
the window, and said, 'Ah! boys, you have had a fine evening for your
Indian caper; but mind, you've got to pay the fiddler yet!' Pitts here
shouted, 'Oh! never mind, never mind, squire! Just come out, if you
please, and we'll settle that bill in two minutes!' The people shouted,
and the admiral thought he had better put his head in in a hurry."
"That's true," remarked Kinnison. "Well, you see, my memory is poor.
Pitts would have mentioned it but for his modesty."
"I recollect it well," said Pitts. "If that tory Coffin had shown his
face that night, I wouldn't have given three cents for his life."
"I think I would have had a slash at him," observed Kinnison. "I felt as
savage as a Mohawk on a war-path."
"I don't want to interrupt your eating, Brown and Hanson," said Colson,
"but couldn't you stir us up a little with the drum and fife?"
"Ay," added young Hand, who seemed to be the general mouth-piece of the
younger portion of the company, "give us the air you played when you
marched up from Griffin's Wharf."
"No objection," replied Hanson. "Come, Brown, get out your whistle.
There's a little music left in it yet, I know."
The old fife was soon produced, and the drum also; and moving their
chairs a short distance from the table, the veteran musicians struck up
the stirring air of the old Massachusetts Song of Liberty, once so
popular throughout the colonies, and supposed to have been written by
Mrs. Warren.
"Hurra!" exclaimed Hand, when the musicians had concluded. "Three cheers
for the music and the musicians!" and three cheers were given quite
lustily by the young men, and some of the old ones.
"I have a copy of that Song of Liberty," said Hand. "Here it is, with
the music. I'll sing it and you must all join in the chorus."
"Good!" said Kinnison, and the others echoed him. Hand then sang the
following words, the young men joining in the chorus, and, occasionally,
some of the veterans attempting to do likewise.
Come swallow your bumpers, ye tories, and roar,
That the Sons of fair Freedom are hamper'd once more;
But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame,
Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame.
In freedom we're born, and, like sons of the brave,
Will never surrender,
But swear to defend her,
And scorn to survive, if unable to save.
Our grandsires, bless'd heroes, we'll give them a tear,
Nor sully their honors by stooping to fear;
Through deaths and through dangers their trophies they won,
We dare be their rivals, nor will be outdone.
In freedom we're born, &c.
Let tyrants and minions presume to despise,
Encroach on our rights, and make freedom their prize;
The fruits of their rapine they never shall keep,
Though vengeance may nod, yet how short is her sleep!
In freedom we're born, &c.
The tree which proud Haman for Mordecai rear'd
Stands recorded, that virtue endanger'd is spared;
That rogues, whom no bounds and no laws can restrain.
Must be stripp'd of their honors and humbled again.
In freedom we're born, &c.
Our wives and our babes, still protected, shall know,
Those who dare to be free shall forever be so;
On these arms and these hearts they may safely rely,
For in freedom we'll live, or like heroes we'll die.
In freedom we're born, &c.
Ye insolent tyrants! who wish to enthrall;
Ye minions, ye placemen, pimps, pensioners, all;
How short is your triumph, how feeble your trust!
Your honor must wither and nod to the dust.
In freedom we're born, &c.
When oppress'd and approach'd, our king we implore,
Still firmly persuaded our rights he'll restore;
When our hearts beat to arms to defend a just right,
Our monarch rules there, and forbids us to fight.
In freedom we're born, &c.
Not the glitter of arms, nor the dread of a fray
Could make us submit to their claims for a day;
Withheld by affection, on Britons we call,
Prevent the fierce conflict which threatens your fall.
In freedom we're born, &c.
All ages shall speak with amaze and applause
Of the prudence we show in support of our cause;
Assured of our safety, a Brunswick still reigns,
Whose free loyal subjects are strangers to chains.
In freedom we're born, &c.
Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
To be free is to live, to be slaves is to fall;
Has the land such a dastard as scorns not a lord,
Who dreads not a fetter much more than a sword?
In freedom we're born, &c.
The song was much applauded for its spirit, and some of the young men
wanted to give three more cheers, but Hand said they were already making
too much noise, and their enthusiasm cooled.
THE SKIRMISH AT LEXINGTON.
"Now," observed Hand, "I should like to hear some account of how things
went on during the war. We are all in the right mood for it."
"I could talk enough to fill whole books about the war," replied
Kinnison; "but I want to hear Mr. Pitts and Mr. Colson, and the rest of
the old men, spend a little breath for our amusement."
"Mr. Kinnison was in the fight at Lexington, and all the principal
battles in the Northern States during the war. I think he could interest
you more than I," said Colson.
"I'll make an agreement with you," remarked Kinnison. "If I tell you all
I know of that skrimmage at Lexington, one of you must follow me." The
agreement was settled, and Kinnison commenced his narrative of how the
first blow of the Revolution was given.
"You see, after that tea scape, and the quarrels with the red-coat
troops in Boston, the people of Massachusetts, and, in fact, of nearly
all New England, began to see that there was no way of upholding their
rights but by war, and they accordingly began to arm and practise
military tactics. The fife and drum were to be heard every day all
around the country. In our village we collected a company of about
thirty men. My father, and two brothers, Samuel and James, and myself,
joined the company, and we used to parade and drill every day. A bold
and knowing fellow, named Jonathan Williams, was our captain. Well,
early in the fall of 1774, we heard the news that Gage had fortified
Charlestown Neck, and sent some troops to seize the gunpowder at
Cambridge. This roused our mettle, and we set into drilling and learning
manoeuvres with more zeal. At one time a rumor reached us that the
British fleet had bombarded Boston, and, I tell you, the men did turn
out. Some of them wanted to march right down to Boston. Everywhere the
people were crying 'to arms! to arms!' and we thought the war had
commenced, sure enough; but it didn't just then. However, there was
about thirty thousand men on the march to Boston, and they wouldn't turn
back until they found the report was a hoax. Soon after, the Provincial
Congress met, and they ordered that a large body of minute-men should be
enrolled, so as to be prepared for any attack. The people of our
province took the matter into their own hands, and organized a body of
minute-men without orders. Our company was included. We were all ready
for fight, but were determined that the red-coats should strike the
first blow; so we waited through the winter. In March, Gage saw that
great quantities of powder and balls were taken out of Boston into the
country, in spite of his guard on the Neck. Every market wagon, and
every kind of baggage, was stowed with ammunition. He then sent a party
of troops to Salem to seize some cannon and stores our men had placed
there; but Colonel Pickering, with a few men, made such a show, that the
red-coats marched back again, without accomplishing their object. Our
chief deposit of stores was at Concord, up here about twenty miles from
Boston; and when our militia-general found that Gage was sending out
parties to sketch the roads, with the aim of getting our stores into his
hands, he sent word to our company to be on hand, and, if we could, to
come up near Concord. John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and all of our other
big men, left Boston and went to Lexington, to keep the people moving
and ready for an attack."
"Dr. Warren stayed in Boston," interrupted Pitts, "to keep the others
informed of the movements of the red-coats."
"Yes," continued Kinnison; "the royals, as Deacon Slocum used to call
'em, didn't hate Warren as much as they did John Hancock and the
Adamses. Well, when Captain Williams heard of what General Gage was
after, he told us we had better be prepared to march at a minute's
warning. Gage sent eight hundred troops, under Colonel Smith and Major
Pitcorn, on his rascally errand. They started from Boston about nine
o'clock on the night of the eighteenth of April, never thinking that
our men knew anything about it--but we were awake."
"Wait a bit," said John Warner, one of the veterans who had not yet
spoken. "I'll tell you something. I was in Boston when the red-coats
started, and knew that the country militia were ready to protect the
stores. I was standing on the Common, talking to a few of my friends of
my own politics, when I said rather loud, 'the British troops will miss
their aim.' 'What aim?' inquired a person behind me. 'The cannon at
Concord,' replied I as I turned to see who asked the question. The man
was dressed in British uniform, and he walked away as I turned to look
at him. One of my friends whispered to me that it was Lord Percy. Soon
after, guards were set at every avenue, and nobody was allowed to leave
the city."
"I suppose Lord Percy went to Gage and told him what he had heard,"
remarked Kinnison. "It must have galled him a little to find they were
so closely watched. Well, Captain Williams was first, aroused by the
sound of the bells ringing and cannons firing on the Lexington road, and
he ordered us out to march and join our friends near that place. It was
a moonlight night, and we marched rapidly. When we got about half-way to
Lexington, we met a man who told us that the minute-men of Lexington
were out, but he didn't think there would be much of a fight. Captain
Williams then thought it would be better for the company to march to
Concord and help defend the stores, but said that a few of us might go
to Lexington, and see now things went on. Accordingly, my brother
Sam--a ripe fellow Sam was--and three others, and myself, were allowed
to go to Lexington. We arrived there about half-past three in the
morning, and found the bells ringing, cannons firing, and about a
hundred minute-men drawn up in front of the meeting-house, waiting the
approach of the enemy. We joined them, and placed ourselves under the
orders of Captain Parker. Between four and five o'clock, we caught sight
of the red-coats coming along the road, with Pitcorn at their head. I
saw at once that we couldn't make much show against so many regulars,
and I believe all our men thought the same; but we stood firm, with our
loaded muskets in our hands. The red-coated troops were drawn up near
the meeting-house, just opposite to us, and loaded their muskets. For a
little while, it seemed as if neither party wanted to begin, and that we
both knew a long war hung on the first fire. At last, Major Pitcorn and
his officers rode forward, waving their swords and shouting, 'disperse,
you villains--you rebels! why don't you disperse?' As we didn't stir,
Pitcorn turned and ordered his troops to press forward and surround
us.--Just then, a few scattering shots were fired at us, and we Lebanon
men returned 'em at once. Then Pitcorn fired his pistol and gave the
word 'fire,' and they did fire. Four of our men fell dead, and our Sam
was wounded in the leg. We had to retreat, although I felt savage enough
to fight 'em all myself; and so I fired my musket, and took hold of Sam,
and helped him to get away with us. The red-coats continued to fire at
us as we retreated, and some of our men paid 'em in the same coin. Two
or three of the men were killed as they were getting over a stone fence,
and Captain Parker, who wouldn't run, was killed with the bayonet. I
hurried Sam into a house near by, saw him safe in the cellar, where the
owner of the house said he would attend to him, and then joined the
other Lebanon men, who were running towards Concord."
FIGHT AT CONCORD.
"You must tell us what took place at Concord, also," said young Hand.
"Certainly," replied Kinnison. "Now, that I've got into the thing, I
wouldn't mind telling you the whole war--but Concord will do for the
present. Well, after a hard run, we reached Concord, and found the
minute-men collecting from all quarters, and under the command of
Colonel James Barrett. The women and children were hard at work removing
the stores to a wood a considerable distance off. We joined Captain
Williams, and told him there had been a skrimmage at Lexington, and that
Sam was wounded. Colonel Barrett collected all the minute-men about the
place, and drew 'em up in two battalions, on the hill in the centre of
Concord. We had hardly formed, when we saw the red-coats coming up only
about a quarter of a mile off. Our officers held a short council. Some
were for making a bold stand where we were; but the greater number said
it would be best to retreat till we were reinforced. Accordingly, the
back-out advice was adopted, and we retreated over the North Bridge,
about a mile from the common. I saw the royals come up and enter Concord
in two divisions. Soon after, some of their companies took possession of
the bridges, while the others hunted the stores. About sixty barrels of
flour were broken open, a large quantity of cannon-balls thrown into the
wells, the liberty-pole cut down, and the court-house set on fire. But
the greater part of the stores were saved. In the meantime, the
minute-men had come in from Acton, Carlisle, Weston, Littleton, and all
around, and our force swelled to about four hundred men. I tell you,
when the men saw the houses in Concord burning, they got a _leetle_
excited--they did. Adjutant Hosmer made a speech to them, and they
wanted to go right down and attack the red-coats at the North Bridge.
Our company was very anxious to go, and it was settled that the attack
should be made. Major John Buttrick took command, and ordered us to
follow. There was about three hundred of us, the Acton company, under
Captain Isaac Davis, taking the lead. We marched in double file, with
trailed arms. I felt anxious to have a good fire at the rascals. They
were on the west side of the river; but when they saw us coming, they
crossed over and commenced pulling up the planks of the bridge. Major
Buttrick called out to them to quit, and told us to hurry on to save the
bridge. The red-coats formed for action, and, when we were near the
bridge, fired a few shots at us. Captain Davis and Adjutant Hosmer were
killed, and one Acton man wounded. Davis and Hosmer were both brave
men, and they died like heroes. Seeing these men fall, Major Buttrick
called out, 'Fire, for God's sake, men, fire!' and we did pour a volley
into the redcoats. I brought down one man, and he never got up again. We
were getting ready to give them another, when the cowards retreated. We
found three of the enemy had been killed, and the Acton company took
several of the wounded prisoners. I saw a mere boy, with a hatchet in
his hand, run up to a Britisher who wasn't quite dead, and kill him with
one blow. That I didn't like, though the boy's spirit and courage
pleased me."
"It was butchery," said Pitts.
"So it was," replied Kinnison; "and it caused a report to be spread that
we killed and scalped all the men who fell into our hands. As I said, I
didn't like it; but we had no time for thinking. The enemy saw how fast
our men were coming in from all quarters, for, by that time, the whole
province was aroused, and they thought it would be best to think of
getting back to Boston. Well, they started from Concord about twelve
o'clock. As the main body marched along the road, the flanking parties
tried to cover them, but it was of little use. We followed, and kept
picking off men from their rear, while it seemed as if there was a
minuteman behind every fence or tree by the road. We didn't march under
any regular orders, but each man tried to do all he could with his
musket. I and two or three other Lebanon men kept together, and managed
to pick off some men at every by-road. At one time, we just escaped the
attack of a flanking party who killed some of the militia a short
distance from us. We lay concealed in the bushes till they went by, and
then followed them up as before. At two or three points, some companies
of minute-men attacked the enemy in the open field, and killed a
considerable number of them. When they reached Lexington they were
almost worn out, and could not have marched much farther. Just then, we
saw a large reinforcement of the red-coats, under Lord Percy, coming
along the Roxbury road, and we had to hold off awhile. You ought to have
seen those royals, how they lay stretched on the ground, with their
tongues hanging out of their mouths. I got on the top of a stone barn,
and saw Percy's men form a hollow square about Smith's troops, in order
to protect them while they got a little breath. But they could not halt
long. The woods were swarming with minute-men; and, if they waited,
their retreat would have been cut off. Well, they started again, and our
men followed as before, picking off men from the flanks and rear. At
West Cambridge, we met Dr. Warren with a party of our men, and attacked
the enemy boldly. But their bayonets kept us off, and we only roused 'em
so much that they plundered and burnt some houses along the road, and
butchered some women and children. Well, after a hard struggle, the
enemy reached Charlestown, and then General Heath called us from the
pursuit."
"I've read," remarked Mr. Hand, "that the British loss during that day
was nearly three hundred--that is, including wounded and prisoners."
"It amounted to that, at least," replied Kinnison; "and our loss was
less than one hundred men. I think the royals got a taste of our spirit
that day."
"Here's a man can tell you something about the retreat of the enemy,"
said Pitts, pointing to one of the old men, named Jonas Davenport.
"Yes," said Jonas; "I know a little about it. I lived near Lexington. My
house stood on the road. I joined the minute-men when I heard of the
comin' of the British troops, and left my wife and two children home,
under the care of my father, then about sixty. I told 'em to keep as
quiet as possible and they would be safe. Well, as I said, I joined the
minute-men, and, when the rascals retreated from Concord, followed and
did some execution with my firelock. But one of 'em shot me in the
shoulder, and I couldn't point my gun any more. I waited till the enemy
had got a considerable distance on the road towards Boston, and then
managed to reach my house--but such a house as I found it! The windows
were broken in, the doors torn off their hinges, and the furniture
broken and thrown about in heaps. I called for my father and wife, but
received no reply. I crawled up stairs, for I was nearly exhausted from
loss of blood, and there I found my father and oldest child stretched on
the floor dead. The old man had his gun still clenched in his hand, and
he had, no doubt, done the enemy some damage with it. But his face was
beaten in, and he had two or three bayonet stabs in his breast. The
little boy had been shot through the head. I was a pretty tough-hearted
man, but I fainted at the sight; and, when I came to myself, I found my
wife and the youngest child bending over me crying. How they did hug and
kiss me when they saw me revive! I think I did as much to them, for I
never expected to see them alive. My wife told me that the old man would
fire at the British as they were passing the house, and some of them
stopped, broke open the doors, and knocked the things about. The old man
and the little boy ran up stairs, while my wife and the other child ran
from the house towards a neighbor's. As she ran away, she heard the
muskets fired, but couldn't stop, as she thought the rascals were after
her. She had returned as soon as she knew they were far on the road. I
didn't grieve long; but sent her for the doctor at Lexington to dress my
wound. Boys, boys, I've made many a red-coat pay for the lives of that
old man and child. I hated them enough before, but that day's work made
me all gall!" The memory of gratified revenge lighted up the old man's
eyes as he spoke. He was a man of stern spirit, and no thought that such
revenge was wrong ever crossed his mind.
"I can tell you folks of something more about that retreat from
Concord," continued Davenport. "The story is generally known up around
the country here, but some of you may not have heard it. It's about old
Hezekiah Wyman, who gained the name of 'Death on the pale horse.'"
"I heard the story, and saw the old man on his white horse," remarked
Kinnison; "but it will interest the young men, no doubt--so drive on."
[Illustration: HEZEKIAH WYMAN.]
"Well, you see," began Davenport, "the window of old Hezekiah Wyman's
house looked out on the ground where the British shot our men at
Lexington. The old man saw the whole affair, and it made him so savage
that he vowed to revenge his countrymen if he fell in doing it.
"'Wife,' said he, 'is there not an old gun-barrel somewhere in the
garret.'
"'I believe there was,' said she; 'but pray what do you want with it?'
"'I should like to see if it is fit for service,' replied he. 'If I am
not mistaken, it is good enough to drill a hole through a rig'lar.'
"'Mercy on me, husband! are you going mad? An old man like you--sixty
years last November--to talk of going to war! I should think you had
seen enough of fighting the British already. There lies poor Captain Roe
and his men bleeding on the grass before your eyes. What could you do
with a gun?'
"The old man made no reply, but ascended the stairs, and soon returned
with a rusty barrel in his hands. In spite of his wife's incessant din,
he went to his shop, made a stock for it, and put it in complete order
for use. He then saddled a strong white horse, and mounted him. He gave
the steed the rein, and directed his course toward Concord. He met the
British troops returning, and was not long in perceiving that there was
a wasp's nest about their ears. He dashed so closely upon the flank of
the enemy that his horse's neck was drenched with the spouting blood of
the wounded soldiers. Then reining back his snorting steed to reload,
he dealt a second death upon the ranks with his never-failing bullet.
The tall, gaunt form of the assailant, his grey locks floating on the
breeze, and the color of his steed, soon distinguished him from the
other Americans, and the regulars gave him the name of 'Death on the
pale horse.' A dozen bullets whizzed by his head, when he made the first
assault, but, undismayed, the old patriot continued to prance his gay
steed over the heads of the foot-soldiers--to do his own business
faithfully, in the belief that, because others did wrong by firing at
him, it would be no excuse for him to do wrong by sparing the hireling
bullies of a tyrannical government. At length, a vigorous charge of the
bayonet drove the old man, and the party with which he was acting, far
from the main body of the British. Hezekiah was also out of ammunition,
and was compelled to pick up some on the road, before he could return to
the charge. He then came on again and picked off an officer, by sending
a slug through his royal brains, before he was again driven off. But
ever and anon, through the smoke that curled about the flanks of the
detachment, could be seen the white horse of the veteran for a
moment--the report of his piece was heard, and the sacred person of one
of his majesty's faithful subjects was sure to measure his length on
rebel ground. Thus did Hezekiah and his neighbors continue to harass the
retreating foe, until the Earl Percy appeared with a thousand fresh
troops from Boston. The two detachments of the British were now two
thousand strong, and they kept off the Americans with their artillery
while they took a hasty meal. No sooner had they again commenced their
march, than the powerful white horse was seen careering at full speed
over the hills, with the dauntless old yankee on his back.
"'Ha!' cried the soldiers, 'there comes that old fellow again, on the
white horse! Look out for yourselves, for one of us has got to die, in
spite of fate.' And one of them did die, for Hezekiah's aim was true,
and his principles of economy would not admit of his wasting powder or
ball. Throughout the whole of that bloody road between Lexington and
Cambridge, the fatal approaches of the white horse and his rider were
dreaded by the trained troops of Britain, and every wound inflicted by
Hezekiah needed no repeating. But on reaching Cambridge, the regulars,
greatly to their comfort, missed the old man and his horse. They
comforted themselves by the conjecture that he had, at length, paid the
forfeit of his temerity, and that his steed had gone home with a bloody
bridle and an empty saddle. Not so.--Hezekiah had only lingered for a
moment to aid in a plot which had been laid by Amni Cutter, for taking
the baggage-waggons and their guards. Amni had planted about fifty old
rusty muskets under a stone wall, with their muzzles directed toward the
road. As the waggons arrived opposite this battery, the muskets were
discharged, and eight horses, together with some soldiers, were sent out
of existence. The party of soldiers who had the baggage in charge ran to
a pond, and, plunging their muskets into the water, surrendered
themselves to an old woman, called Mother Barberick, who was at that
time digging roots in an adjacent field. A party of Americans recaptured
the gallant Englishmen from Mother Barberick, and placed them in safe
keeping. The captives were exceedingly astonished at the suddenness of
the attack, and declared that the yankees would rise up like musketoes
out of a marsh, and kill them. This chef d'oeuvre having been concluded,
the harassed soldiers were again amazed by the appearance of Hezekiah,
whose white horse was conspicuous among the now countless assailants
that sprang from every hill and ringing dale, copse and wood, through
which the bleeding regiments, like wounded snakes, held their toilsome
way. His fatal aim was taken, and a soldier fell at every report of his
piece. Even after the worried troops had entered Charlestown, there was
no escape for them from the deadly bullets of the restless veteran. The
appalling white horse would suddenly and unexpectedly dash out from a
brake, or from behind a rock, and the whizzing of his bullet was the
precursor of death. He followed the enemy to their very boats; and then,
turning his horse's head, returned unharmed to his household.
"'Where have you been, husband?'
"'Picking cherries,' replied Hezekiah--but he forgot to say that he had
first make cherries of the red-coats, by putting the pits into them."
"That old man was sure death," remarked Kinnison. "I knew the old fellow
well. He had the name of being one of the best shots around that part of
the country. I should never want to be within his range."
"The old man immortalized himself," said Hand.
"It served the 'tarnal rascals right," observed Hanson. "They only
reaped what they had sown. War's a horrible matter, altogether, and I
don't like it much; but I like to see it done up in that old man's
style, if it is done at all."
"I should like to have seen that royal officer that said he could march
through our country with three regiments," said Kinnison. "If he was
with Smith and Pitcorn that day, he saw there was a little of the
bulldog spirit in the Yankees."
"I think," observed Pitts, "we might have that old, heart-firing,
arm-moving tune called Yankee Doodle. Come, Brown, pipe."
"Ay," replied Brown, "that tune came out of this here fife
naturally--almost without my blowing it. For some time, I couldn't work
anything else out of it."
"Come, pipe and drum the old tune once more," cried Colson; and it was
piped and drummed by Brown and Hanson in the real old continental style.
The effect on the company was electric. Knives, and forks, and feet,
kept time to the well-known music. Some of the old men could scarcely
restrain themselves from attempting a cheer, and the young men felt
themselves stirred by a feeling of patriotism they had scarcely known
before. The spirit of 1775 dwelt in the music, and, as the quick notes
started from fife and drum, visions of farmers leaving the plough in the
furrow and shouldering the rusty and unbayoneted firelock--of citizens
leaving their business and homes to grasp the sword and gun--of
stout-hearted, strong-armed minute-men, untrained to war's manoeuvres,
marching and battling with the well-disciplined, war-schooled, and
haughty Britons, made confident by a more than Roman career of
victory--and of the glorious fight at Breed's Hill--came to the minds of
all present. Three cheers were given, when the musicians had concluded,
for the tune itself, and three more for those who had played it.
"More ale," called out Hand, and more ale was brought; and then Hand
proposed as a toast--"The memory of the men who fell on the 19th of
April, 1775." This was drank standing, and a short pause ensued.
FIFER'S STORY.
"Now," said Kinnison, "I expect that some of you men who know something
about them times shall keep your promise of following my story."
"I'll tell you a story," replied Brown, the fifer. "P'raps some of you
won't swallow it; but it's all fact, and that you'll find if you choose
to hunt for the papers. It's chiefly about me and my fife, and Hanson
and his drum."
"Pipe away, Brown," said Kinnison.