TELLS HOW A MYSTERY WAS SOLVED AND HOW VICTORY CAME TO THE COLONIES
For an instant only did Nat Brewster stand still; the British
battalion, pushing forward, forced him on. But as the boy still
remained at his side, Nat clutched him by the arm and demanded:
“If that is Ezra Prentiss, who are you?”
The other looked at him squarely; even through the trouble that was
plain in his face, a flicker of amusement showed at Nat’s amazement.
“I am his twin brother, George,” he answered, quietly.
At this Nat was almost overwhelmed once more. Then his mind began
to work like lightning. He had been mistaken all along. It was this
brother--this twin, who looked so astonishingly like Ezra--who had
figured in all the incidents which he had accepted as proof of
treachery. One by one he began to go over them; but just then he was
aroused by Major Pitcairn calling sternly and at the top of his voice:
“Disperse, ye rebels! Lay down your arms!”
All else was instantly forgotten; the drama being enacted before his
eyes was more compelling than even his exciting thoughts. Once more the
command rang out:
“Why don’t ye lay down your arms, ye villains! Disperse, I tell you.”
But the two thin lines of alarm men held their ground. Then came the
report of a musket; Nat saw a British infantryman, his piece at his
shoulder, the smoke curling from its muzzle. Another and another shot
rang out from the battalion. Pitcairn, frantic with passion, turned
upon his men and shouted for them to cease firing. But it was too late.
A scattered volley came from the rifles of the minutemen; Pitcairn’s
horse went down with a crash, and the bullets drove above the massed
infantry, doing no other harm. Then the British began platoon firing,
in regular order, calm, methodical and effective. The patriots
responded from behind stone walls and other sheltered places which
they had now broken for; and as the leaden messengers began to whistle
about his ears, Nat heard a voice say:
“I think we had better get out of this. It is getting a little too warm
for comfort.”
It was Ezra’s brother who spoke; and as he saw Nat dart a quick glance
about at the soldiery, he added:
“They are too much engaged now to pay any attention to us. But we must
be quick.”
So with that the two darted out of the road and behind some buildings.
Like deer they raced along the streets, now filled with terrified women
and weeping children.
The firing abruptly ceased; and in another moment they noted a little
body of minutemen in retreat across a swamp to the north of the Common.
Upon a piece of rising ground the boys halted; they saw a full score
of dead and wounded lying upon the village green and the huzzas of the
British came faintly to their ears.
“You see,” said Nat. “I was right.”
“And I was wrong,” answered the other. “I was wrong from the beginning.
But,” with a sudden lift of the head, “they have not yet reached the
end. Chesbrook and some others deceived me shamefully up to this. But
at Concord I’ll try to prove to them that they can do so no longer.”
“Come, then,” said Nat, briefly. “Here is the road. In a little while
the British will be once more on the march.”
The two lads faced the way to Concord and went off at a long, swinging
lope. The pace was not a hard one, but it took them swiftly over the
ground. They had covered some two of the six miles when figures were
seen ahead in the uncertain early light of the April morning.
“Halt!” rang out a sharp voice. They saw the long barrel of a rifle
poked out from behind a tree at the wayside and cover them. But only
for a moment. Then there was a sharp exclamation, the muzzle was
lowered and a form leaped into the road.
“George!” cried a voice.
“Ezra!” replied Nat’s companion; and the next instant the two brothers
stood with clasped hands, looking into each other’s eyes. But after a
moment Ezra turned to Nat.
“Now,” said he, gravely. “You understand?”
Nat held out his hand.
“I beg your pardon,” said he, simply, as they shook hands. “But,” as
the thought came to him, “why did you not explain it all when you saw
that I suspected you?”
“If I had,” spoke Ezra, “is it a thing you would have believed?”
Nat reflected and then shook his head.
“It is more than likely not,” he replied.
As the brothers turned to each other once more and began to speak
low and earnestly together, Nat looked expectantly along the road to
where he had seen the figures ahead. They were now coming anxiously
toward him, and with delight he recognized Paul Revere and Ben Cooper.
Advancing to meet them, he gripped their hands warmly.
“Hot work back there,” said Revere, nodding his head in the direction
of Lexington.
“You succeeded in arousing the towns, I see,” spoke Nat.
“Thanks to your message to Dr. Warren--yes. But I almost made a failure
of it at the very start; for I had not gone far on the road through
Charlestown, when two British officers, who seemed to be patroling the
road, popped out upon me. But Deacon Larkin’s horse was a good one, and
I escaped, going through Medford and alarming almost every house on the
way to Lexington. At Clark’s, where you and I went together a few days
ago, I roused Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams; and while they were getting
ready to leave, William Dawes, who was also sent out to spread the
alarm, arrived. He and I set off to Concord to continue our work, and
on the road met a young man named Prescott who agreed to give us his
help.
“A little farther along here,” and Revere pointed up the road, “the
other two stopped at a house to awake a man; but I rode on, and I had
scarcely gone two hundred yards when I ran suddenly into a nest of
British officers who clapped pistols to my head and bid me stop.”
“And you did?” laughed Ben Cooper.
“Can you doubt it?” asked Revere. “But let me go on. They took down
some bars and led me into a pasture; there they threatened me with
pistols once more and demanded to know who I was and upon what errand
I was riding.”
“But you did not tell them,” said Nat.
“I did,” declared Revere, proudly; “and in return I suffered great
abuse. But one of the officers seemed much of a gentleman, for he said
to me that none should do me harm. What I told them seemed to startle
them much; they started toward Lexington with me in the midst of them,
my horse being led and a man with a drawn pistol on each side of me. We
were nearing a meeting-house when we heard a gun fired and a bell begin
to ring.
“Then they took my horse and dashed away toward Cambridge, leaving me
standing in the road. I returned at once to Clark’s. Mr. Hancock and
Mr. Adams had not yet gone, and I warned them of what had occurred.
They departed at once from the house, I going with them several miles
on the way. Mr. Hancock then told me of a trunk filled with papers
which he had left at the village inn and asked me if I’d return for it.
After I had rested a bit, I did so and Ezra and Ben bore me company.”
“And where did you come upon them?” asked Nat.
“They were at Mr. Clark’s when I returned there, and were urging Mr.
Adams and his friend to flee.”
Nat turned to Ben, a question in his eye. But Ben laughed.
“I know what you’re going to ask me,” he said. “But I’ll not answer,
for I think,” with a nod of the head toward the Prentiss brothers,
who stood some little distance off, “there is a great deal for you to
hear, and as my little story is mixed up with it, you’d better hear all
together.”
Nat noticed that while Revere and Ben both kept casting marveling
glances at the twins, neither of them seemed greatly astonished.
“Is it possible that you have known of this twin brother all along?” he
demanded.
“Not I,” and Revere shook his head. “I heard of him for the first time
last night.”
“And I,” said Ben Cooper, “never knew of his existence until after I
left Boston last fall.”
They were all three looking attentively at the brothers when the
latter turned. Nat Brewster never saw a more delighted look upon the
face of any one than was upon that of Ezra Prentiss at that moment.
“He looks,” whispered the young mountaineer to Ben, “as though the most
pleasant thing in the world had happened to him.”
“You have no trouble telling one from the other, then,” smiled Ben.
“Not now. Together I can see a difference. But,” hesitatingly, “if they
were separated I might be puzzled once more.”
“That’s usually the case in the matter of twins,” said Ben.
“Ben,” said Ezra, as they came up, “this is my brother George--George,
this is Ben Cooper, and Mr. Revere.”
The three named shook hands; then Ezra continued, addressing Nat and
Revere:
“There is a great deal to explain to you and to others of my friends,
who have seen and heard things that--that they have not understood.
Ben has known something of it, but as you two have not, I’ll begin at
the beginning; and if there are any places where the light does not
strike, don’t hesitate to speak of it.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Paul Revere. “But there is a chest of
important papers in the bushes some little distance up the road, that
needs careful carrying to Concord. And as the British may happen along
at any time now we’d better be off with it.”
“You are right,” said Ezra, “and the story will keep until we get under
way.”
The five hastened forward; the chest was dragged from its hiding-place;
Nat and Revere each seized a handle and off they set, trudging
manfully. They had gone but a little distance when Nat said to Ezra:
“Now for it; I’m so full of curiosity that I can wait no longer.”
“You see,” began Ezra, “George has been brought up by our grandfather,
who is a Tory. All his friends have been king’s men and he has been
taught to believe in British rule. As for myself, I have always been a
strong Whig like my father--so strong a one,” and he colored a little,
“that I never spoke of my brother, fearing that some one would learn of
his way of thought.”
“I was always as strong an American as you, Ezra,” said George,
smiling. “Our methods were different, that’s all.”
“Perhaps so,” answered Ezra. “But, you know, it is how we apply our
beliefs that counts.” Addressing himself to the others, he went on:
“When the trouble commenced, George began acting with our enemies. I
pleaded with him, but he would not listen. He said I had been led away
by demagogues--for such he had been taught to believe Mr. Adams and Dr.
Warren. When I set out for Philadelphia I learned that he had formed
the plan to take John and Samuel Adams on the road and that he was
ahead of me.”
“And you left your party as it neared the city,” said Nat,
understanding, “that you might overtake him.”
“Exactly,” said Ezra, eagerly.
And then he went on to account for his absence from the City Tavern at
Philadelphia on the night that Ben first called to see him, in the same
way. George had laughingly told him that Washington and Henry would
soon be prisoners, and not daring to inform any one of the facts for
fear and shame of what might befall his brother, Ezra had set about to
follow him and thwart the plan alone.
Nat laughed when Ezra came to their conversation upon the pavement
before the City Tavern, in Philadelphia.
“And to think that you were only trying to tell me that Washington
and his friends would probably remember my work to my advantage and
that the Tories would do the reverse,” said he. “I understood it as a
threat. When you referred to it afterward on the road to Bristol you
meant, I see now, to show that you were grateful to me. But do you
know, I was convinced just the other way about.”
The boy that the Porcupine had seen leave the Cooper place in the night
and make his way toward Cliveden had, of course, been Ezra, still
in search of his brother; but the one whom he saw in consultation
with Mr. Chew and Mr. Dimisdale had been George. The nervousness of
Ezra upon the road to Bristol was because he feared just what Nat’s
keen eyes showed to exist--an ambush. He had begged Revere to take
an unfrequented road, thinking to escape one; but the Tories had
out-thought him.
“I knew from your cold manner,” said Ezra to Nat, “that you believed
me guilty of treachery; but I could not explain it to you, as you can
now see. But Mr. Adams knew all, for I had told him everything; and
when Dr. Warren’s letter reached Philadelphia he was, of course, not
surprised. However, we thought it best to keep the matter strictly to
ourselves. I told Ben a part, as I have said, that he might be enabled
to work with me intelligently when we returned to Boston the second
time.”
“We had formed a compact,” said Ben, laughing and turning to George,
who had been listening soberly, only now and then adding a few words
to the story, “to save you from the British. And we’ve been quietly on
your trail ever since we came north.”
“I felt that some one was,” returned George. Then he reached out and
put his hand upon Ezra’s shoulder. “So all the things that I have done
have fallen upon you!” he said with feeling. “Forgive me, Ezra, if you
can; and believe me that the possibility of such a thing never entered
my mind until this morning.”
For answer, Ezra patted him upon the back encouragingly.
“Never mind that,” said he. “It’s all over now.”
“Yes,” returned George, firmly; “it’s all over; and anything I do
in the future, Ezra, even so warm a patriot as yourself will not be
ashamed of.”
Now and then they were overtaken by horsemen, or wagons containing
people, heading for Concord; and Nat smiled to see that all bore rifles
and that their faces wore looks of determination.
“There were only a few of us at Lexington,” cried a young farmer as he
tore by upon a plough horse, “but there will be a different story to
tell farther on.”
Now and then the strong box changed hands; but the five never stopped
for anything else, tramping steadily on until they sighted the town.
Concord at that time was a fair-sized place and contained a church, a
jail and a court-house. There were two spans across the river, one
called the Old South and the other the Old North Bridge. The parade
ground was near the meeting-house, and upon it were companies of
minutemen, their ranks constantly swelling, and even now being put
through their routine by careful officers. Anxious inquiry on the part
of Revere told them that the last of the stores had been carted away to
safe hiding-places hours before; and also that the militia at Lincoln
was already upon the ground.
“Now,” said Nat to Ben Cooper, after Mr. Hancock’s property had been
placed in security, “let us stand close together in whatever befalls.
Because if you get away from me again, of course you’ll not take the
trouble to hunt me up.”
The latter part of this speech was uttered in a jesting tone, but for
all that Ben saw that his cousin more than half meant it.
“You know, Nat,” said Ben, “it was not altogether my fault that I did
not find you at once upon my return to these parts. But you had left
the ‘Dragon’ and I did not care to make inquiries of Dr. Warren or Mr.
Revere because--well, because I knew that Ezra would rather I should
not.”
At Revere’s solicitation, rifles were given to Ben, George, Nat and
himself, also powder and ball; then they hurried out to join the
patriot band upon the square. A party of the Lincoln minutemen had gone
forward on the Lexington road to meet the British, but they now came
pouring back into the town.
“The ministerial troops are only about two miles away,” announced the
Lincoln captain, William Smith, “and they are more than treble the
number of all that we can muster!”
With that the entire American force fell back to an eminence behind the
town and formed in two battalions. Colonel Barrett, who had worked all
the night superintending the removal of the stores, joined them here
and at once placed himself in touch with the situation.
“I am none too soon,” remarked this officer, pointing with his hanger
down the Lexington road. “Here they are, and marching as though they
meant to finish us without delay.”
Sure enough the British had come in sight. The early sunshine struck
their burnished arms and they glittered bravely in response; the red
coats, white cross belts and high head pieces added to the gallant
appearance of the compact column. Hotheads among the Americans were for
at once offering battle. But the wise Colonel Barrett shook his head.
“Just now,” said he, “they are too strong for us. Men are flocking in
from all points of the compass; in a short time we’ll be able to make a
stand, but not yet.”
So he ordered a retreat across the North Bridge to another eminence
which was about a mile from the center of the town.
The British advanced into Concord, and at once the North Bridge was
secured by two hundred men. Six companies were sent to destroy the
magazines of stores, but, for the most part, found them empty. In
the center of the town they seized and broke open some threescore of
barrels of flour, knocked off the trunnions of three cannons, burnt
some wheels, newly made for gun carriages, and also a few barrels of
wooden trenchers and spoons.
While this was going forward, the British all the while conducting
themselves after the fashion of people highly amused, the alarm men
were flocking to the hill outside. They came from Carlisle, from
Chelmsford, from Westford, Littleton and Acton. They were lined up in
rough order to the number of almost five hundred when several pillars
of black smoke began to mount from Concord, and a cry of rage at once
arose from the colonial force.
“They are burning the town!” was the cry.
Colonel Barrett, who had been calmly studying the situation, now
decided to act.
“The guard at the North Bridge must be dislodged,” said he curtly. “Who
will volunteer?”
A mighty shout went up. With a face shining with pleasure, the leader
at once told off the companies he desired for the service. Major
John Buttrick was placed in command, and to the number of some three
hundred, the party started down the hill in double file and with
trailed arms.
“You are required to cross the North Bridge,” were the commander’s last
words to Major Buttrick; “but do not fire upon the king’s troops unless
they fire upon you.”
Nat, Ben Cooper, Ezra and his brother were all with the party. Nat and
Ezra marched shoulder to shoulder and as they neared the river, the
latter said in a low tone:
“I suppose this is a more or less dangerous undertaking, but do you
know, I have never been so glad to do anything in my life.”
“We are all glad to get a chance to back up our words, I suppose,”
answered Nat.
“It’s not that altogether,” said Ezra.
And Nat saw the look which the speaker gave the unconscious George, who
was trudging determinedly forward, his cartridge box pulled round ready
to his hand.
“He’s going to get a chance to prove that he is a patriot at heart like
the rest of us,” said Ezra. “And,” contentedly, “I have no fear but
that he will.”
“Nor I,” said Nat, assuringly.
The two hundred British were upon the west side of the river; but upon
seeing the provincials approach, they retired to the east side and
formed for a fight; also a detachment was sent to tear up the planks of
the bridge.
Seeing that this must be prevented, Major Buttrick called upon them to
stop, but as they paid no heed, he said sharply to his command:
“Forward, lads, at the quick!”
The colonists increased their pace. Instantly a rattle of musketry came
from the king’s men. A fifer in the Acton company dropped with a bullet
through him; almost immediately Captain Davis and a private of the
same company were killed. Seeing the deadly effect of the volley, the
American leader cried:
“Fire, fellow soldiers, fire!”
The American riflemen at once obeyed; as the leaden couriers began to
whistle about them the British fell into great confusion and retreated
back upon their main body. With defiant shouts, part of the colonists
crossed the bridge and took up a position on a hill commanding the main
road; the others, bearing their dead, returned to their starting point,
and all rested upon their arms watching the redcoats like hawks.
By this time it was well upon noon, and while Concord was holding the
column in check, the news of the hostile march of the king’s troops
was spreading rapidly through all sections round about, and hundreds of
men were hastening toward the scene of action. All the roads that led
to Concord were thick with them; they carried the firelock that perhaps
had fought the Indian and the drum that beat defiance to the French at
Louisburg. And they were led by men who had served with Wolfe at Quebec
and suffered the rigors of the seven years’ war.
At noon, Lieutenant-Colonel Smith concluded that nothing further was to
be gained by an advance; so he gave the word that the column fall back
toward Lexington and Boston. His left was covered by a strong flank
guard that kept the height that borders the Lexington road; his right
was protected by a stream of water. They had not gone very far when
they began to understand how thoroughly the country had been aroused.
It seemed as though men dropped from the very clouds. From behind every
tree, every stump, every rock, a rifle spat its anger at them.
Near Hardy’s Hill, the Sudbury company attacked the British flank
guard; there was a fierce fight on the old road north of the
schoolhouse. Here the way was lined with woods upon both sides and the
minutemen swarmed upon them from this shelter like gnats. A guard on
the left flank was ordered out in desperation; but it proved only a
fairer mark to shoot at, and was instantly ordered back.
This woody defile stretched away for three or four miles, and while in
it the British suffered terribly.
“From their look,” said Nat Brewster, reloading his piece and wiping
the sweat from his face, “they have ceased to regard their expedition
as a sort of excursion.”
Ezra Prentiss, to whom these words were addressed, raised his rifle to
his shoulder and its report was added to the din.
“And, I think,” said he coolly, as he thrust his hand into his pocket
for another cartridge, “that they will never start upon such another
one again.”
It was at this point that Woburn added one hundred and eighty men to
the little provincial army; at Lincoln, the Lexington company again
appeared upon the field.
The British carried the greater part of their wounded, but the dead
were left in the road behind them. At Lexington, Lieutenant-Colonel
Smith was shot in the leg. Here, also, the British found that their
ammunition was fast failing; the men were growing so fatigued as to be
almost unfit for service; confusion began to grow among them and their
officers were compelled at times to threaten them with drawn pistols,
to keep them in order.
Under the murderous fire sustained by the Americans the column was at
last halted and formed into a hollow square to await the reinforcement
which Colonel Smith had sent for at daylight. It was here that Lord
Percy, at the head of three regiments of infantry, two divisions of
marines and carrying two field-pieces came upon them, harassed, worn
and almost upon the point of surrender. Percy himself had had no
easy time in advancing to the rescue. He had found the planks of the
Cambridge bridge taken up to delay his crossing the river; then the
patriots had cut off his provision train and left his men to the hunger
of the march.
At once the field-pieces began to play upon the colonists; houses and
other buildings were fired wantonly in Lexington, others upon the route
of the retreat, now resumed, were broken into and plundered.
Dr. Warren had joined the patriots just before the arrival of Percy;
and in the midst of the party that came with him the boys were
delighted to find the Porcupine, perched upon a tall horse and with a
huge pistol in his belt. At sight of them he grinned and smoothed back
his stiff crest of hair.
“Had quite a time getting here,” said he, “but it’s worth all the
trouble. I’ve always wished I’d have a chance to get in the first
fight, and I hope it’s come true!”
“You’re here in time,” said Nat, with a laugh. “The troops that have
just come up look fresh and full of spirit, so it is not all over yet.”
But though Lord Percy had almost two thousand men in all, he showed no
disposition to do anything but get safely back to Boston. Dr. Warren
rallied the patriots, who had been shaken by the cannon, and they
pressed relentlessly after the invaders.
“Keep up a brave heart,” said Warren to the riflemen. “They began it;
but see to it, lads, that we end it.”
Through West Cambridge they fought. Again the British ammunition ran
short, and the field-pieces became silent. At Charlestown the main body
of the patriots hung upon their rear and another force was marching
upon them from Roxbury, Dorchester and Milton.
It was sundown when the harassed column staggered down the old
Cambridge road to Charlestown Neck, fighting every step of the way,
but glad to find protection at last under the guns of their ships of
war. Out of gunshot, the provincials halted; but there they hung like
a cloud, ominous and dark in the twilight. Next day the shattered
battalions crossed into the city; and at once the Americans tightened
their line; at once the work began of making the militia and the
minutemen a compact fighting machine of the sort whose operations would
spell victory.
It was the next morning that the five boys stood upon the hill and
watched the sun come up over the city.
“Well,” said Nat, “we’ve got them walled up in Boston.”
“Yes,” replied Ezra Prentiss, as his sober gaze dwelt upon the still
slumbering town. “And it will not be a great while before we drive them
ever from there.”
And the events of the days to follow proved him to be a true prophet.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Superscripted letters are preceded by a carat character: M^cIntyre.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.