IN WHICH A WINTER PASSES, BRINGING MANY THINGS
The very next night, Nat Brewster was admitted with all due formality
to membership of that devoted band of patriots known as the “Sons of
Liberty,” of which Paul Revere was a leading spirit. This organization
met in one of the upper rooms of the “Green Dragon,” and the young
mountaineer was astonished to find how complete were their plans of
resistance should the time come when it should be necessary to take up
arms.
Immediately, after another consultation with Dr. Warren, the boy took
up the work that had been assigned to him.
“One of the most pressing needs of the British army now encamped in
Boston,” said the doctor, “is for barracks to shelter them during the
coming winter. The artisans of Boston have refused to undertake the
building, and so bricklayers, masons, plasterers and carpenters are
largely in demand. If you were one of these now”--and he looked at
Nat speculatively, “you’d be able to get inside the lines and perhaps
gather information of great value to us.”
“I have done a great deal of rough carpentry,” said Nat. “And though I
am no great mechanic, still, I may do, if they are badly pressed for
men.”
“Excellent!” said Dr. Warren, greatly pleased. “Lose no time in
applying to the officer in charge.”
This Nat did, later in the same day; and his services were snapped up
eagerly at much higher wages than usual.
“Those villains of Whigs will not take honest work in the king’s
service,” complained the red-faced captain in charge of the work.
“They’d rather stand about the streets meditating treason and throwing
black looks at decent persons who uphold the laws.”
So during the days that followed Nat sawed, planed and nailed in the
midst of the British with great energy. And all the time he watched
keenly and listened for any news that might be of importance. At night
he patroled the streets with Revere and his thirty mechanics; and there
was little that escaped their sharp eyes and alert minds, for they
scattered into every part of the town where they thought there might be
a movement of the king’s troops.
Nat saw very little of Ben Cooper, and nothing at all of Ezra for some
days; finally one evening as he sat at supper at the “Dragon” Ben burst
in upon him.
“Ezra has been recalled to Philadelphia,” he stated. “He starts in the
morning, so be ready and you can pick us up on the way.”
“I’m going to remain in Boston,” said Nat, calmly.
“Going to remain in Boston!” Ben almost gasped these words, so great
was his astonishment. “Why, what for?”
“I have urgent reasons,” replied Nat. Then seeing his cousin’s
reproachful look, he added, laughingly, “Well, I suppose I’ll have to
tell you about it; but you will have to promise not to say anything to
any one--not even Ezra.”
Ben looked at Nat challengingly.
“I say,” said he, “what’s the matter with Ezra? Somehow or other you
don’t take to him very well.”
“He’s said something to you, has he?” said Nat.
“He’s said nothing,” replied Ben warmly. “But I’ve got eyes and I can
see as well as the next.”
Nat was silent for a moment. He could tell Ben nothing of that
particular affair because Dr. Warren had asked both himself and Revere
to keep silent.
“I’ll say nothing about your ideas regarding Ezra and me,” said he,
at last. “But I will say, under promise that you tell no one, that I
remain in Boston to carry out some work required of me by Dr. Warren.”
Now there was no more ardent patriot among them all than good-natured
Ben Cooper. So upon hearing his cousin’s words he at once gave up all
expectation of his accompanying them south.
“Very well,” said he. “If that’s the case, I suppose I’ll have to leave
you here. But the Porcupine will go back with me, of course.”
“No,” said Nat. “I rather think he wants to remain. But,” turning to
the dwarf who sat near him, “speak for yourself.”
“I’ll stay with you if you’ll let me,” came the answer promptly.
“So you see,” smiled Nat to Ben, “you will have the trip all to
yourselves. But,” with a sudden recollection of what was due to his
uncle, “I must get you to take a letter to your father.”
So while Ben waited, he got a bottle of ink, a quill and a sheet
of thick paper, with which he set about composing a long letter to
Mr. Cooper. When he finally finished and sealed it up, he had told
everything of importance there was to tell. Ben remained for some time
talking and then got upon his horse for the ride to Cambridge.
“Do you know,” said he, as he mounted and sat looking down at his
cousin, “that I rather envy you.”
“Why?”
“Because there is something in the air of this town that tells me that
it’s here or hereabouts that the explosion is going to take place.”
“You are always finding things in the air,” laughed Nat.
“Well, if I do, I am generally right,” argued Ben. “Just you wait and
see.”
Then they shook hands and said good-bye; Ben waved his hand and nodded
smilingly to the Porcupine, who replied with a grin; then the rein was
given the little roan, and she scampered away down the dimly lit street.
During the whole of the long, gloomy winter that followed, Nat Brewster
saw no more of his cousin; once there came a letter from Mr. Cooper in
which Ben enclosed a page of greetings, but that was all.
But Nat had little time to think of these things. As the winter
advanced the situation became more and more tense. The arming of the
people went steadily on, as did the collecting of the military stores.
Nat, in one capacity or another, served Dr. Warren and the Committee
of Public Safety continuously; he kept as close as possible to the
British sources of information and more than once was lucky enough to
secure news that was of great help to the cause. But the Porcupine
was invaluable; he developed a musical talent, which Nat had not
suspected, and upon a strange looking string instrument of his own
manufacture he played and sang Tory ballads at inns and places where
the royalists resorted. In this way he made himself popular with
them and so gained admittance to places which would otherwise have
been denied him; the result was that there was scarcely a thing of
consequence talked of among the Tories that escaped him, or failed to
reach the ears of the committee in due course.
In this way it became known to Warren and the rest of the patriot
committee that Gage had about despaired of his policy of inaction; he
had made up his mind to disarm the people and seize their leaders.
“He has been desirous of having an army of twenty thousand men before
resorting to this,” Nat told Dr. Warren in repeating what he had heard.
“But he has made up his mind that these will never be sent him, so he
is going to make the attempt with his present force.”
“Which is about thirty-five hundred,” said Dr. Warren. “But how is he
to proceed, or haven’t you heard?”
“The Porcupine, as it happens, heard that very subject talked of last
night at the ‘George and Griffin.’ Ruggles, the loyalist leader, has
asked General Gage to send troops to Marshfield to protect the Tories
from violence.”
“No violence is meditated against them,” said Warren, sternly. “That is
but a subterfuge to test the willingness of the people to permit troops
to march into the outlying sections.”
On January 23d, General Gage sent one hundred men and three hundred
stand of arms to Marshfield. All Boston, it seemed, was on the streets
to watch the tiny column move out of the city; and as Nat stood gazing
with interest upon the scene, he was surprised to see Ezra Prentiss
upon the edge of the crowd at the opposite side of the street. They
exchanged formal salutes, but neither made any attempt to cross to the
other. Nat knew that the brothers Adams had left Philadelphia at the
adjournment of Congress, but he had heard nothing of Ezra; and, indeed,
had given him but little thought.
“That means that we must both be more careful,” said the Porcupine,
when Nat told him of the meeting. “If he sees you among the British
and me among the Tories, he’ll be sure to whisper something in their
ears that will put us in danger.”
In sending the troops to Marshfield, Gage feared an outbreak; but when
the colonists merely looked sullenly on and no hand was raised against
the soldiers, the governor grew elated.
“They dare not really oppose the king’s troops,” he is reported as
saying. “And when the spring opens, I’ll prove it to even themselves.”
A few brass cannon and gun carriages had been deposited by the patriots
at Salem, and about a month later Nat, by the merest chance, learned
that Colonel Leslie and a detachment were to be sent to seize them. At
Warren’s command the young mountaineer sped to Salem as fast as the
hard-mouthed black would take him.
It was Sunday morning and the Puritan town was still and covered with
snow. But within an hour the streets were alive with citizens, all
ready to defend the guns. As the latter were upon the upper side of
North Bridge, the draw was raised, and when the British arrived they
could not cross the river. Several large gondolas lay upon the south
bank. Colonel Leslie at once gave orders that his men cross in these;
as the soldiers moved toward the boats Nat saw a youth, followed by
several older persons, rush forward, push the craft into the water and
proceed to scuttle them.
The redcoats waded into the stream and with their bayonets tried to
stop this. The boy leader lifted an oar with which to defend himself
and then, for the first time, Nat recognized him.
“Ben Cooper,” he cried in amazement.
A moment later the boats sank, and their occupants struck out for the
north side, swimming lustily and uttering derisive cries.
Flushed and angry, Colonel Leslie stood at the open draw and shouted
across at the townspeople:
“Lower the draw in the name of the king.”
The Rev. Mr. Bernard, a clergyman of Salem, stepped forward.
“Colonel,” said he, “I take you for a just and reasonable man, and
one who would not wish to stain the Sabbath day with blood. This is
a private way; you have no right to cross if the owners see fit to
object. So go your way in peace.”
Leslie had been especially warned by Gage not to persist if there was
danger of bloodshed; and now the news reached him that the minutemen
from all the country round had been sent for, and indeed, that the
company from Danvers had just arrived. But he was a determined officer,
and as he had set out to cross the bridge he made up his mind to do so.
“I am going to march my men across,” declared he. “If you will
peaceably lower the draw, I’ll agree to proceed no more than thirty
rods beyond it. But if you refuse--well, you must accept the
consequences.”
Thereupon the draw was lowered; the British had the empty triumph of
crossing; but the brass guns were safe, and the incoming militia drew
up in line and watched the redcoats depart, their fifes squeaking
dismally, their drums beating a hollow tattoo.
When all danger was past, Nat began a search for Ben Cooper. But the
swimmers had landed some distance below the bridge; he located a few
of them, but Ben was nowhere to be found.
“The boy who first started for the boats was a stranger to us,” the men
told Nat. “We never saw him before. But he’s a plucky one, whoever he
is.”
All the way back to Boston Nat wondered over this strange incident.
“Why, I had not thought Ben within hundreds of miles of Boston,” he
said. “And here he pops up in the midst of a thing like that just
passed. However, I suppose he’ll hunt me up before long and give an
account of himself.”
But this Ben did not do; weeks passed and Nat still heard nothing of
him. At last the latter made up his mind that he had been mistaken.
“It couldn’t have been Ben, or he’d have looked me up,” he reasoned.
“It was the excitement of the moment that led me astray; one is apt to
imagine all sorts of things at such times.”
However, as has been noted before, he had not much leisure to think
over his own affairs. With Revere and the thirty faithful mechanics,
who continued to patrol the bleak streets each night, ever watchful and
alert, he gave all his waking time to the Committee of Safety. And in
pursuance of the change of policy on the part of their commander, the
British grew aggressively offensive. Once they tarred and feathered a
citizen whom they claimed had tempted a soldier to desert, and drew him
about the streets upon a dray guarded by soldiers, their band playing
“Yankee Doodle” in derision.
They attended public meetings at the Old South Church and hissed the
speakers. On the day in March set aside by the Provincial Congress for
fasting and prayer, they pitched tents near to the meeting-houses and
the services were constantly interrupted by the sound of drum and fife.
The very next day Mr. Hancock’s house was assaulted and damaged.
“All this is to provoke the people to strike the first blow,” said
Warren.
And thereupon the precautions taken by their leaders to prevent their
doing so were redoubled.
Some fourteen thousand musket cartridges were seized by the British
guard as the patriots endeavored to get them across Boston neck, and
the driver of the wagon was severely handled. This was on March 18th;
and the same evening a party of officers attacked the Providence coach.
It was about this time that Nat Brewster became aware that an
enterprise of some moment was soon to be undertaken by Gage. There
was nothing said openly, no one put it into words; but there was much
whispering and signaling among the younger officers; and Nat, whose
days were almost all employed at the barracks or officers’ quarters,
listened with all his ears.
At length, as March neared its end, the rumor became more definite; and
then it was given a name. The stores at Concord were to be destroyed!
When Nat excitedly bore this intelligence to Warren, a guard was at
once placed over the magazines; teams were held in readiness to carry
them away at the first sign of a British advance. Riders were also
despatched to carry the alarm to all the towns and have them hold their
companies of militia to answer any call that might be made upon them.
Gage now sent out engineer officers to inspect the state of the towns,
to make sketches and maps of the roads and all possible places of
defence. Bodies of troops were frequently sent out. On the 30th of
March, the first brigade, numbering some eleven hundred men, took
its way toward Jamaica Plain, and on their march did much damage by
throwing down stone walls and otherwise misconducting themselves. Armed
to the teeth, they swaggered through the near-by towns like ruffians.
Little did they dream what danger they were in. All about them the
country slowly arose; bands of armed minutemen appeared like magic,
and, unseen, awaited the word. Dr. Warren, watching the truculent
brigade of British from a neighboring hill, smiled grimly to Paul
Revere, who sat his horse beside him.
“Let them advance a few miles further, attempt to destroy a magazine or
in any way abuse our people, and not a man of them will ever see Boston
again.”
But the time was not yet. In the city, the bearing of the king’s
soldiers became more and more proud; the population, unable to stand
their insults, was slowly drifting into the country. It became quite
dangerous for a patriot of mark to remain, and, indeed, most of them
had taken their leave of the town long before. But the gallant Dr.
Warren remained.
“Some one must take the risk,” said he, simply. “And why not I?”
Gage made every effort to purchase supplies for camp service; but
the people were before him everywhere; they cut him off both in
Massachusetts and New York. About the middle of April a reinforcement
came, and the very day of its coming, Nat overheard a conversation
between an ensign and a lieutenant at a mess table which immediately
set his expectations upon edge. The boy from Wyoming was fitting a
window-sash which had been much complained of; and as the two officers
were but a half dozen feet from him, he lost not a word.
“This is all the general’s been waiting for,” declared the ensign, a
youthful, strapping fellow. “Now mark my words, he’ll slip a second
expedition out upon the Yankees and capture all the nest-eggs they’ve
been hoarding so carefully at Concord.”
The lieutenant shook his head.
“Of course it’s for General Gage to do as he thinks best,” said he.
“But if I were asked what I thought about it--which I’m not likely to
be--I’d tell him to go slow.”
“Oh, he’s been going slow since he’s been here,” exclaimed the ensign,
“and what has it done for him? Not a thing. Here is an assembly of
men, styled the Provincial Congress, and which is totally unknown to
the constitution, collecting the public moneys. That alone is enough
to arouse him to action; but when he sees the same moneys invested in
warlike stores to be used against him, he grows angry. It’s his duty to
stop this and prevent the calamity of a civil war.”
The lieutenant nodded.
“You are right,” said he, “so it is; but I don’t like the way he’s
going about preventing it.” He lowered his voice after a glance at Nat,
and continued: “Have you heard that the grenadiers and light infantry
have been relieved from duty?”
“Yes,” returned the other, with a laugh. “The excuse is that they are
to learn some sort of a new exercise. It’s a rare good dodge, for of
course they’re being got ready for a march.”
“I fancy you are right,” nodded the lieutenant. “And those boats of the
transports, which were hauled up for repairs, have been launched again
and are now under the sterns of the men-of-war, ready for service.”
Late that night, for he always visited Dr. Warren’s house at hours when
he’d be little likely to be seen, Nat Brewster hastened to Hanover
Street. Revere was with the doctor at the time and they received the
news which he had to tell with set faces.
“Mr. Hancock and Samuel Adams are at the house of the Rev. Jonas Clark
at Lexington,” said Dr. Warren to Revere. “I shall wish you to bear a
letter to them at daybreak to-morrow.”
“I will be ready,” said Revere.
Nat bore the courier company on the following morning.
“The time,” said Revere, soberly, as they jogged along, “is not now far
off.”
“I fear not,” replied Nat. “If Gage strikes, we must strike back. And
that will mean a relentless war.”
“I had some faint foreknowledge of what you told us last night,” said
Revere. “The whisper came to me that Gage intended to seize Mr. Hancock
and Mr. Adams, but just how or when I did not know until you came.”
“If they were taken it would be a worse blow than the loss of the
stores could well be,” said Nat, seriously. “Such an event will, of
course, be especially guarded against.”
“Right,” returned the man in the same tone. “You may be sure that it
will be, if I have any voice in the matter.”
The house of the Rev. Mr. Clark was a wooden one upon a shady street;
as it happened both Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock were at home, and they
received the news calmly.
“We have arranged for just this emergency,” said Mr. Hancock. “There
are safe places at Sudbury and Groton for the stores; within an hour
they shall be on their way.”
“And no British column, no matter how strong, will be able to get that
far in search of them,” added Mr. Adams, grimly.
Revere and Nat rode back by way of Charlestown, and here they met
Colonel Conant of the militia, and some other gentlemen warm in the
cause.
“It puzzles me,” said Revere, after some talk, “how we shall get word
across the river when the troops are about to start.”
“I had thought of that,” answered Conant. “From where we stand, the
tower of Old North Church is plain to be seen in day-time. When the
troops start, climb to the windows in the steeple and signal us by
flashes of light--one if they are going by land, two if by water.”
“Good,” praised Revere, “a fortunate idea, colonel. We will act upon
it. Don’t forget,” as they were going, “two flashes of a lantern if
they go by water--one, if by land.”
When they reported to Dr. Warren he breathed a sigh of relief.
“It now only remains for us to keep a strict patrol,” he said, “and
give the signals promptly. Do you,” to Nat, “watch like a hawk. And
you,” to Revere, “see to it that your men do the same.”
Monday passed, and Nat, still employed at the officers’ quarters, noted
many things that gave him alarm. Late in the afternoon he saw a dozen
horses brought out and a group of laughing, chatting officers all ready
to mount.
“I think,” said the strapping ensign whom Nat had heard talk a few days
before, and who now made one of this party, “that there will be little
need for us to watch the roads. The Yankees know nothing, and therefore
can send no warning to the peasants in the out-sections.”
Nat did not desire to hear more. In a sheltered spot he scribbled a few
words upon the face of a smooth pine block with the point of a nail;
hiding this beneath his coat, he made his way to a point beyond the
barracks.
“It’s lucky that I thought to tell the Porcupine to hold himself ready
to carry a message,” he said as he hurried along.
Rounding the far end of the barracks, he heard a door close, then he
caught a quick, sure tread upon some wooden steps; turning his head the
least bit, he got a glimpse of the newcomer out of the tail of his eye.
[Illustration: _HE GOT A GLIMPSE OF THE NEWCOMER_]
“Ezra!” almost cried Nat, in dismay. But he choked back the
exclamation, lowered his head and walked steadily on. Even though his
back was now squarely toward the other, Nat knew that the boy had
halted and was watching him. But it was only for a moment, then the
same light footstep resumed, now upon the plank walk; and Nat, with
a keen, quick glance over his shoulder, saw him hurrying away toward
the group of officers who were still gathered, awaiting the command to
mount.
As luck would have it, there was a sharp turn around some buildings for
Nat to make in order to reach the place where he had told the dwarf to
await him. As he rounded this he was screened from view and broke into
a run.
With set face he sped forward, not knowing what another moment would
develop. And, as it happened, the very moment that he caught sight of
the grinning face of the Porcupine, he also heard the roar of hoofs
upon the planks of the barracks road. In a flash he tossed the dwarf
the pine block.
“To Dr. Warren--and get out of sight quickly!” he said, hastily.
The keen perceptions of the dwarf grasped the situation instantly.
Clutching the block, he vanished between two buildings; and Nat, his
head bent, as though totally unconscious of everything but his own
private affairs, continued on up the street. Nearer and nearer sounded
the hoof beats; then two horsemen drew up beside him.