[Illustration: _A BROAD-SHOULDERED YOUTH OF SEVENTEEN_]
The Young
Continentals
at Lexington
_by_
John T. M^cIntyre
_Author of_
“With John Paul Jones”
“The Boy Tars of 1812”
[Illustration]
Illustrated by Ralph L. Boyer.
_The Penn Publishing
Company Philadelphia_
_MCMIX_
COPYRIGHT
1909 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
[Illustration]
Introduction
“THE YOUNG CONTINENTALS AT LEXINGTON” begins with that vital period of
our country’s history when the great forces that made the Revolution
were slowly coming together.
The port of Boston was closed; an army under Gage occupied the city;
Massachusetts Bay was thronged with troop-ships and frigates, and the
colonies were writhing under a series of unjust and oppressive laws.
It was at this time that the four boys who play the leading parts in
the story began their experiences. Historical events that led up to
the war for independence are met with in every chapter; the great
personages of the time figure upon almost every page. From the meeting
of the first Congress at Carpenter’s Hall to the stand of the minutemen
at Lexington and Concord Bridge, every important step in the movement
for national life is touched on.
The second book of the series, “The Young Continentals at Bunker
Hill,” takes up the thread of history where this book leaves it. It
will show the siege of Boston, and the glorious defeat on the Hill. It
will tell how Washington was given command of the army; how he sent
word to Ethan Allen; how the heavy guns he captured at Ticonderoga were
hauled through the winter wilderness upon sledges to Boston; also how
Washington mounted them upon Dorchester Heights and finally drove the
army of Gage from the city.
Contents
I. SHOWS HOW BEN COOPER SAW THE WAR A LONG WAY OFF 9
II. TELLS WHY NAT BREWSTER WALKED TOWARD CLIVEDEN IN THE DARK 20
III. SHOWS HOW NAT MET “GRUMPY COMEGIES” AND WHAT CAME OF IT 31
IV. SHOWS HOW STARTLING NEWS WAS NAT’S REWARD AT CHEW HOUSE 38
V. HOW NAT BREWSTER MET THE PORCUPINE 50
VI. SHOWS HOW NAT BREWSTER AND THE PORCUPINE RODE THROUGH
THE NIGHT 64
VII. SHOWS HOW NAT BREWSTER MET WITH MR. WASHINGTON 81
VIII. TELLS HOW THINGS BEGAN TO LOOK BAD FOR EZRA PRENTISS 105
IX. NAT BREWSTER FINDS MORE PROOF 120
X. WHAT THE PORCUPINE SAW AT CHEW HOUSE 130
XI. SHOWS HOW NAT BREWSTER SPOKE TO HIS UNCLE AND WHAT
THEIR RESOLUTIONS WERE 147
XII. WHAT HAPPENED ON THE NORTH ROAD 159
XIII. SHOWS HOW NAT MET ONE STRANGER AND HOW THE PORCUPINE
MET ANOTHER 174
XIV. THE NIGHT PROMISES WELL 192
XV. HOW THE PROMISE WAS KEPT 203
XVI. THE TALL MAN BRINGS A FRIEND 216
XVII. WHAT NAT HEARD AT THE COFFEE-HOUSE IN ORANGE STREET 230
XVIII. IN WHICH DR. WARREN AND PAUL REVERE LISTEN INTENTLY 238
XIX. IN WHICH A WINTER PASSES, BRINGING MANY THINGS 250
XX. NAT BREWSTER IS TAKEN BY FOES AND PAUL REVERE BEGINS
HIS MIDNIGHT RIDE 273
XXI. NAT BREWSTER MARCHES WITH PITCAIRN TO LEXINGTON 287
XXII. TELLS HOW A MYSTERY WAS SOLVED AND HOW VICTORY CAME
TO THE COLONIES 306
Illustrations
PAGE
A BROAD-SHOULDERED YOUTH OF SEVENTEEN _Frontispiece_
“WHO ARE YOU?” HE DEMANDED 34
“I ASK YOUR PARDON, MR. WASHINGTON” 103
“THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG, THEN” 188
HE SAW THE TALL STRANGER 228
HE GOT A GLIMPSE OF THE NEWCOMER 270
THEY CAME WITHIN SIGHT OF LEXINGTON 303
The Young Continentals at Lexington
CHAPTER I
SHOWS HOW BEN COOPER SAW THE WAR A LONG WAY OFF
The smart little roan mare drew up at the gate of the Cooper place,
and Ben Cooper leaned over and lifted the latch with the loop of his
riding-whip. The gate was still creaking open when the lad noticed old
Stephen Comegies stumping along the road on his gouty legs, and leaning
heavily upon a stout oaken staff.
“Good-morning, Mr. Comegies,” saluted Ben, cheerily.
But old Stephen seemed not to hear; his eyes were fixed upon the road,
and his lips were muttering; from the way his gnarled hand clutched the
staff, it would have fared badly with those who had excited his anger
had they been in reach of its iron-shod foot.
“A fine morning, Mr. Comegies,” said Ben Cooper.
This time he was heard. The old man paused--leaned upon the staff and
regarded the boy from under his shaggy gray brows.
“A fine morning,” repeated he. “No! That it is not. I see nothing fine
in it. But,” and his voice rose a pitch higher, “I see a great deal of
bad in it. I see a great store of ill being laid up, for future days to
take care of.”
A slow smile stole over Ben Cooper’s round, good-natured face. The
whole of Germantown called old Stephen “Grumpy Comegies” and Ben had
listened to him frequently before.
“It’s fine weather anyway,” insisted Ben. “The harvests are almost
ready; the shooting is going to be good; the rabbits and birds are
growing fat and plenty. What more can any one want?”
“If they had any understanding,” replied old Stephen, “they might feel
sorry that these colonies are being swept by a flood of ingratitude to
an honest king.”
Ben’s mouth puckered into a whistle of surprise; for Stephen Comegies
was a man of authority and weight in the community, and it seemed odd
that he should begin a political discussion with a boy of sixteen years
upon the open road. However, the matter was explained the next moment,
when Ben heard his father’s voice and saw him rise up from a bench
inside the gate where he had been sitting with a book.
“I know, Mr. Comegies,” said Robert Cooper, “that your words are
pointed at myself and not at the boy; so I will take them up.”
He leaned upon the fence as he spoke, fluttering the leaves of the
book with his fingers. He was a tall, spare man with a pale, studious
face; but there was something about him that was forceful and ready; an
opponent would never find him at a loss for either words or actions.
“Can you deny that a spirit of unrest is abroad?” demanded old Stephen,
planting the iron-tipped staff in the road. “Can you deny that a
rebellion is being fostered against a generous prince? Can you deny
that the irresponsible firebrands in New England are arming against
their lawful rulers?”
“I shall not deny anything that you charge,” replied Mr. Cooper
sternly, “I shall only say that it is all true, and further add that I
am greatly pleased to be able to say it.”
“Take care,” cried the old man, his gaunt, once powerful frame
quivering with resentment. “Take care, Robert Cooper. You and your like
are sowing seeds of sedition that can be reaped only by the bayonets
of the king’s regiments. You can flaunt your scandalous theories of
liberty in the faces of your neighbors, but when the time for reckoning
comes you may not seem so ready.”
“I think,” replied Mr. Cooper, calmly, “that when it does come, the
reckoning will find me ready enough.”
Old Stephen lifted his staff and shook it tremulously to the southward.
“The broth that those vipers brew in Philadelphia,” declared he, “will
be the death of them!”
“Those sent by the different colonies to this Congress that is to
meet,” said Robert Cooper, “are honest American gentlemen. They have
wrongs that require redressing and they chose this means, as the best
they know, of procuring the remedy.”
“It is a threat,” maintained the old man. “They are shaking a sword in
King George’s face. Why do they not beg redress of wrongs like dutiful
subjects, and not come together like a lot of skulking rascals?”
“The time for begging has gone by,” said Mr. Cooper. “From now on
the colonies will demand--and in a voice not to be mistaken. We have
submitted too long; the king is an ignorant old man surrounded by
incompetents. There have been no more faithful subjects than those of
America; but they will not permit themselves to be plundered. If we are
to be taxed we desire a voice in the government that fixes those taxes.”
Stephen Comegies gazed at the speaker in horror. That a man should
cherish such sentiments and still be permitted at large filled him with
wondering alarm. For a moment he was unable to speak; then, recovering,
he burst out:
“This is not the first time I have heard treason from you, Robert
Cooper; and the day is fast coming when you shall rue having spoken
it.” There was a pause, then he resumed with a harsh laugh, “They
will demand, will they? And in a voice that will not be mistaken, eh?
Well, take care! It is easy to send out a summons to draw a rebel pack
together, but it is not always so easy to actually assemble them.”
Mr. Cooper gazed steadfastly into the deeply-lined face of the old
Tory; there was something in the countenance threatening and sombre,
and somehow it gave out an impression of hidden joy at some grim joke.
Mr. Cooper was about to reply, but old Stephen gripped his staff firmly
and moved a step or two on his way. Then he paused and turned his head.
“Don’t forget what I have said,” added he, with another cackle of
laughter, “and don’t say you were taken unawares.”
Then he stumped away upon his gouty legs, the iron-shod staff ringing
upon the hard road, his big gray head bent and his lips muttering their
hatred of all the king’s enemies.
“He seems to be in a high temper this morning,” laughed Ben, who had
listened with amusement to the Tory’s words. “But he’s always crying
out against something.”
Mr. Cooper shook his head.
“I’m afraid,” said he, “that the coming struggle will see the Tories
one of our greatest sources of vexation.”
Ben looked at his father in surprise.
“The coming struggle,” repeated he. “Do you actually believe that it
will come to that, father?”
Mr. Cooper resumed his seat upon the bench and opened the book once
more. It was easy to see that his fears were of the worst, but that he
had no desire to impart them to his son.
“All this controversy is a struggle,” he said. “And as time draws on,
it will grow more bitter.”
“But,” queried Ben, his face alight with anticipation, “do you think it
will end in blows being struck?”
But his father was bent over the book. All he would say was:
“No one can predict the outcome of such a thing.”
Ben waited for a moment, thinking he would speak further; but as he did
not, the lad shook the reins and Molly loped gaily up the path and off
toward the barn.
In the shadow of the coach house a broad-shouldered youth of seventeen
was engaged in cleaning a long, shining rifle. He looked up as Ben
dismounted and turned the mare over to a hired man.
“Good morning for a ride,” commented he, as he rubbed industriously at
the brass butt of the weapon. “Wanted to go over my traps, or I’d have
joined you.”
“You missed something,” replied Ben, as he sat upon a sawbuck near the
other. “The air is fine upon the road.”
“I know,” smiled the other, “full of sunshine and some other things
which you can’t see, but which make you feel like a giant. It’s that
way among the hills, up in the Wyoming valley.”
Ben kicked at some chips with the toe of his riding-boot and looked
thoughtful.
“You _are_ right,” he said, after a short pause; “there are things in
the air this morning--things that maybe you don’t mean. And the nearer
I rode to the city, the stronger I felt them.”
The broad-shouldered youth laughed and his gray eyes twinkled.
“Maybe,” said he, “they were bits of Mr. Franklin’s electricity.”
“It might seem odd to you, Nat,” proceeded Ben, without noticing the
other’s light words, “but I fancied that the roadside looked different.
Everything seemed closer together and secretive, somehow. When the
trees rustled in the wind and nodded toward each other, it seemed as
though they were whispering mysteriously.”
Again Nat Brewster laughed.
“Ben,” said he, “I think you’ve passed the glen where Mother Babette
lives, and that she’s put a spell upon you.”
But Ben paid no attention to the raillery; his round, good-natured face
was serious and he went on soberly:
“Of course, I don’t think any of these things are so. They are merely
impressions caused by something I did not notice at the time.”
Nat looked at him with more interest. The long rifle lay across his
knee, and the burnishing ceased.
“That’s so,” said he. “I’ve often felt like that myself. Sometimes when
I’ve tramped alone among the mountains I’ve felt worried about things
that I couldn’t give a name. And always something of importance turned
up afterward. It was just as though I felt it coming a long way off.”
Ben nodded his head.
“That’s it,” said he. “That’s it, exactly.” He paused a moment, then
continued, “All along the road the people seemed quiet. Men burning
brush in the fields looked strangely at me through the smoke. People
in carts who’d usually have something to say just nodded their heads,
and seemed to look after me, watchfully. I passed the schoolhouse there
at the crossroads and the long drone that always comes from it, of the
scholars chanting their lessons, was queer and hushed.”
“It was a strange sort of ride,” commented Nat. “I wish I’d gone with
you.”
“I went as far as the ‘Bull and Badger.’ Some farmers were gathered in
front of it and some travelers were upon the porch. It was the same
with them as with the others. The very inn seemed to be trying to
contain some weighty secret; and I turned and rode away without even
getting down.”
Ben leaned over and his forefinger tapped his cousin upon the shoulder.
“I was at the gate of this place before I found out what caused it
all,” said he.
“What was it?” asked Nat, quickly.
“We’re going to have a war with England,” replied Ben. “It means
nothing else.”