flush upon her cheek that heightened her beauty. Lord Upperton sat in
silence, pondering her words. It was dawning upon him that a girl of
the Colonies had rejected his suit. He had come to her with his
castle, his ancestry, his title, his position as a peer of the realm,
but she had put them all aside. Not with them could he win his suit.
Instead of accepting what he had to give, she stood calm, serene,
beautiful, radiant, and pure, upon a height so far above him that he
never could stand by her side. The silence was embarrassing.
"Miss Newville," he said, rising and standing before her, "your answer
is painful to me. I had anticipated the winning of your hand and
heart. It had not occurred to me that I should fail. I appreciate what
you have said. A loftier ideal of the nobleness of true womanhood has
come to me. My honor, respect, and love for you are deeper than ever,
but I see that what I desired cannot be. I bid you farewell."
She courtesied to his bow, and extended her hand. He touched it to his
lips, and passed from the room.
Her head was pressing her pillow once more. The bell struck the
midnight hour. Once more she heard the watchman's voice.
"Twelve o'clock, and all is well."
"Yes, all is well," she said,--and her sleep for the night was calm
and peaceful.
XIII.
THE MOHAWKS AND THEIR TEA-PARTY.
On the evening of October 29, 1773, the Sons of Liberty again
assembled at the Green Dragon. A ship had dropped anchor during the
day off Castle William, bringing the news that Parliament had passed a
law taxing tea. Ever watchful for the welfare of the people, they came
together to hear what the London newspapers and their friends in
England had to say about it, in letters which Samuel Adams had
received. The night being cool, the landlord lighted a fire to warm
the room, and enable those who might like a mug of flip to heat the
loggerhead in the glowing coals. Upon the table, as usual, were the
punch-bowl, crackers, cheese, tobacco, and pipes. Mr. Adams seated
himself by the table and opened a letter.
"It is from Mr. Benjamin Franklin," he said, "who writes that
Parliament has passed a law levying three pence per pound on tea. It
is not to be collected here, as on other articles, but the merchant
who ships it is to pay the duty. It is a very adroit attempt to
collect revenue. The consignees in the Colonies, of course, will add
the amount in their sales, and so the revenue will be collected
without any agency on the part of the Custom Houses."
"I suppose," said Doctor Warren, "Lord North and the whole British
nation think we are such simpletons, we shall not see the cat in the
meal."
"It is an insidious act," Mr. Adams resumed, "intended to undermine
the political virtue of the people. Two years ago our wives and
daughters exhibited their allegiance to lofty principles by signing an
agreement not to drink tea until the obnoxious laws then existing were
repealed. Lord North laughed at the time, but he has discovered that
the people of the Colonies can be loyal to a great principle. The East
India Company's receipts have fallen off at the rate of five hundred
thousand pounds value per annum. The company has seventeen million
pounds of tea stored in London, intended for the Colonies, and for
which there is no market. It owes the government a vast sum. The
merchants who have grown rich out of their profits in the past are not
receiving any dividends. The shares of the company, which a few months
ago were quoted at high rates, have become unsalable. Parliament has
repealed the obnoxious laws for taxing the Colonies, and passed this
act, doubtless thinking that, so long as we do not pay it directly
into the Custom House, we shall acquiesce and go to drinking tea
again. And there is where the danger lies. We have been so true to our
convictions the revenue received from its sale last year in all the
Colonies was only fifteen hundred pounds. It is very humiliating to
the king and ministry to turn to the other side of the ledger and find
that it has cost several hundred thousand pounds to maintain the
troops sent to the Colonies to aid in enforcing the revenue laws upon
a reluctant people. This new act, by having all the customs machinery
in England, will have a tendency to seduce the people from their
allegiance to a great principle. How to thwart the plans of the
ministry is the all-important question for us to consider. Mr.
Franklin writes that several vessels are soon to leave London for
different colonial ports--three of them for Boston."
"There is an old song," said Doctor Warren, "about a crafty old spider
inviting a silly little fly into his parlor. I don't believe the fly
will accept the invitation this time."
"The consignees," said Mr. Adams, "are Elisha and Thomas Hutchinson,
the governor's two sons; Richard Clark and sons, Benjamin Faneuil,
Junior, and Joshua Winslow,--all honorable merchants; but their
sympathies, as we know, are not with the people. If we allow the tea
to be landed, I fear the consequences. We must not permit the levying
of a tax, without our consent, in any form."
"I move," said John Rowe, "that we do not permit the landing of any
tea."
The meeting voted to adopt the motion. The formal business ended, they
refilled their pipes, helped themselves to crackers and cheese, punch
and flip.
* * * * *
Berinthia Brandon, the following week, could not understand why Tom
wanted Dinah to make him a pot of paste; nor why he was out so late at
night,--not getting home till three o'clock in the morning. None of
the watchmen, going their rounds, saw anybody pasting handbills on the
walls of the houses, but everybody saw the bills in the morning.
TO THE FREEMEN OF THIS AND NEIGHBORING TOWNS.
GENTLEMEN,--You are desired to meet at Liberty Tree, this
day at twelve o'clock noon, then and there to hear the
persons to whom the tea shipped by the East India Company is
consigned make a public resignation of their office on oath
as consignees; and also swear that they will reship any tea
that may be consigned to them by said company, by the first
vessel sailing for London.
O. C.
_Secretary._
BOSTON, NOV. 3, 1773.
_Show us the man that dare take this down!!!!!_
Early in the morning the town crier was jingling his bell and calling
upon the people to be at the Liberty Tree at the appointed hour.
Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Doctor Warren, and William Molineux were
there, and a great crowd. The consignees were assembled in Richard
Clark's store. The people voted to choose a committee to inform them
that, if they did not resign or pledge themselves not to land the tea,
they would be regarded as the enemies of their country. William
Molineux, Doctor Warren, and six others were chosen.
A great crowd accompanied the committee. Governor Hutchinson, looking
out upon them from the window of the council chamber, saw that they
were the foremost men of Boston. The consignees were in Richard
Clark's store, and the door was locked.
"From whom are you a committee," asked Clark, opening a window.
"From the whole people."
"I shall have nothing to do with you."
"Then you will be regarded as an enemy of your country," replied
Molineux.
"Out with them!" cried somebody.
"Hold on. Don't let us make fools of ourselves," said Tom Brandon.
There was a murmuring in the crowd.
"In the king's name, I command you to disperse," said the sheriff,
stepping forward.
It was not he, however, but Doctor Warren, who, by a wave of his hand,
stilled the people, and persuaded them to depart.
On Sunday morning, November 29, Tom Brandon, looking with the
telescope, saw a ship at Nantasket, and knew by the signals that it
was the Dartmouth, Captain Hall. When meeting was over at noon, he
called upon Doctor Warren and found him writing a circular to be sent
to the surrounding towns, asking the people to assemble on Monday
morning in Faneuil Hall. Tom took the writing to the printing office
of Edes & Gill in Queen Street, and a printer quickly put it in type.
On Monday morning the people of Boston, Charlestown, Cambridge, and
all surrounding towns were reading it.
FRIENDS! COUNTRYMEN! BROTHERS!
The worst of plagues, the detested tea, shipped for this
port by the East India Company, has arrived. The hour of
destruction or manly opposition to the machinations of
tyranny stares you in the face. Every friend to his country,
to himself, and posterity is now called upon to meet at
Faneuil Hall at nine o'clock this day, at which time the
bells will ring, to make a united resistance to this last,
worst, and most destructive measure of administration!
BOSTON, NOV. 30, 1773.
The bells rang. The people surged into Faneuil Hall. There was a crowd
in the square around the building,--so many people that they adjourned
to the Old South Meetinghouse, where they voted that the tea must go
back to England, and that twenty-five men should keep watch day and
night, to prevent its being landed. The meeting adjourned till Tuesday
morning to hear what the consignees would do.
Through the night Abraham Duncan and the other watchmen patrolled the
wharves. The Dartmouth had sailed up the harbor and was riding at
anchor.
A great crowd filled the meetinghouse at nine o'clock Tuesday. The
moderator read a letter from Richard Clark and the other consignees,
who said they could not send the tea back, but would put it in their
stores till they could hear from the East India Company.
"No! no! no!" shouted the people, who were more than ever determined
that it should not be landed.
Tom saw the sheriff, with his sword by his side, as the emblem of
authority, enter the meetinghouse, with a paper in his hand.
"It is from his excellency, the governor," said the sheriff, bowing to
the moderator.
"We don't want to hear it," shouted the people.
"We are assembled in orderly town meeting. I think we had better hear
what the governor has to communicate," said Samuel Adams, and the
great audience became silent. Tom's blood began to boil as the sheriff
read:--
"You are openly violating, defying, and setting at nought the good and
wholesome laws of the Province under which you live. I warn you,
exhort, and require each of you, thus unlawfully assembled, forthwith
to disperse, and to surcease all further unlawful proceedings at your
utmost peril."
Tom, and all around him hissed.
"We won't disperse till we've done our business," shouted a man in the
centre of the house.
"We will attend to our affairs, and Tommy Hutchinson may mind his own
business," cried another.
"Let us hear from Mr. Rotch," the shout.
Mr. Rotch, a young merchant, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, and who
owned the Dartmouth, rose.
"I am willing the tea should go back without being landed," he said.
The people clapped their hands.
"Hall! Hall! Let us hear from Captain Hall," they cried.
The captain of the Dartmouth, sunburned by exposure, said it made no
difference to him. He would just as soon carry the tea back as
anything else. Once more the people decided the tea should not be
brought on shore. To prevent its being landed it was voted that the
watch should be maintained; that if the attempt was made by day, the
meetinghouse bells would ring, if by night, they were to toll.
A few days later, the Beaver, commanded by Captain Coffin, and the
Elenor, commanded by Captain Bruce, arrived. Tom, once more looking
down the harbor, saw the warship Kingfisher drop down below the Castle
and anchor in the channel; also the Active. He understood the meaning
of the movement--that the governor did not intend the ships should
depart with the tea on board. He knew things would soon come to a
head, for under the law, unless a vessel discharged its cargo within
twenty days after arriving in port, the ship and cargo would be
confiscated. Once more the people assembled, electing Thomas Savage
moderator, and passing a vote directing Mr. Rotch to ask the collector
to clear the Dartmouth for London.
Rain was falling, and the wind east, rolling the waves into the
harbor, on the morning of December 16. Unmindful of the storm, people
from Boston and all the surrounding towns were gathering in the Old
South Meetinghouse. Little did the farthest sighted among them
comprehend that the fullness of time had come for the opening of a
mighty drama; that the bell up in the tower was heralding the
beginning of a new era in human government.
Tom and Abraham found seats in the gallery. After prayer, Samuel Adams
said the committee appointed at a previous meeting had called upon the
collector, with Mr. Rotch, asking him to clear the Dartmouth, but the
request was not granted.
"We all know," he continued, "that the twenty days will expire at
twelve o'clock to-night. After that hour the Dartmouth will be moored
under the guns of Admiral Montague's warships, and will be taken
possession of by a party of marines. I therefore move that Mr. Rotch
be directed to enter his protest at the Custom House, and that he be
further directed by this meeting to apply to Governor Hutchinson for a
permit that shall allow the Dartmouth to pass the Castle and sail for
London."
"All in favor of that motion will say aye," said the moderator.
"Aye!" thundered the floor, galleries, aisles, and pulpit stairs.
"All opposed will say no."
The silence was so profound that Tom could hear his heart beat.
"This meeting stands adjourned to three o'clock," said the moderator,
and the great crowd thereupon surged into the streets. Some went to
the Cromwell's Head; others to the Bunch of Grapes, White Lamb, Tun
and Bacchus, drank mugs of flip, and warmed themselves by the bright
wood-fires blazing on the hearths. The meeting had adjourned to give
Mr. Rotch time to jump into his chaise and ride out to Milton to see
Governor Hutchinson.
Tom and Abraham walked towards the Cromwell's Head. They were
surprised and delighted to meet Roger Stanley.
"I didn't hear of the meeting till last evening," said Roger, "and I
have come in to see what is going on."
The rain had drenched his clothes.
"See here, Roger, you are wet to the skin; you must have some toddy.
Come along, I'll stand treat," said Tom.
They entered the Cromwell's Head, and each took a glass of flip, then
made their way to the Long Room in Queen Street. Climbing the stairs,
Tom rapped on a door. A moment later a panel opened, and a nose,
mouth, and eyes appeared. Tom gave another rap which the nose, mouth,
and eyes seemed to understand, for the door opened, and they passed in
and it closed behind them.
Several of the Sons of Liberty were already there. Some were smoking
pipes, others sipping mugs of hot punch. Edward Preston was sitting at
a table writing.
"The sachem has just finished his proclamation, and is going to read
it," said Henry Purkett.
The room became still, and Preston read what he had written.
ABRANT KAN-AK-AR-A-TOPH-QUA, CHIEF SACHEM OF THE MOHAWKS,
KING OF THE SIX NATIONS AND LORD OF ALL THEIR CASTLES, ETC.,
ETC., TO ALL LIEGE SUBJECTS. HEALTH.
WHEREAS, tea is an Indian Plant and of right belongs to the
Indians of every land and tribe; and whereas, our good
allies, the English, have in lieu of it given us that
pernicious liquor, Rum, which they have poured down our
throats to steal away our brains; and whereas, the English
have learned the most expeditious way or method of drawing
an infusion of said _Tea_, without the expense of wood or
trouble of fire, to the benefit and emolument of the East
India trade, and, as vastly greater quantities may be used
by that method than by that heretofore practiced in this
country, and therefore help to support the East India
Company under the present melancholy circumstances:
THEREFORE, we of our certain knowledge, special grace, and
mere motion will permit or allow any of our liege subjects
to barter, buy, or procure of any of our English allies,
_Teas_ of any kind: _provided_ always each man can purchase
not less than ten nor more than one hundred and fourteen
boxes at a time and those the property of the East India
Company; and _provided_ also that they pour the same into
the lakes, rivers, and ponds, that, while our subjects in
their hunting, instead of slaking their thirst with cold
water, they may do it with tea.
Of all which our subjects will take notice and govern
themselves accordingly. By command,
TO-NE-TER-A-QUE.
"Attention, braves," said the sachem. "Each subject will provide
himself with a tomahawk and be at the wigwam one hour after
candle-lighting to-night, prepared to carry out the proclamation. The
tribe will remember that the Mohawks do not talk much, but do in
silence what they have to do."
They heard the proclamation in silence, and one by one took their
departure. Roger said he would be in the Old South Meetinghouse at
three o'clock to hear the result of the visit of Mr. Rotch to Governor
Hutchinson.
"I doubt if I shall be there; I may have an engagement early in the
evening," said Tom.
Abraham Duncan said the same.
"I went down to the shipyard this morning and got two tomahawks. They
are in my chamber, together with the feathers and war-paint and the
other things. Come round early, Abe," said Tom as they parted.
Again at three o'clock a great crowd filled the meetinghouse. The
clouds had rolled away, and the setting sun was throwing its beams
upon the gilded weather-vane when Roger Stanley entered the building.
It was so full that he could only stand in one of the aisles. The
moderator was reading letters from the selectmen of the surrounding
towns, saying that they would stand by Boston in whatever might be
done to prevent the landing of the tea.
"Their letters," said William Molineux, rising in one of the front
pews, "are all very well; they show the determined spirit of our
fellow-citizens; but we must have a committee whose duty it shall be
to prevent the landing of the tea. I move the appointment of such a
committee."
The meeting voted that a committee should be appointed.
* * * * *
The evening shades were falling and the housewives lighting their
candles. In the Brandon house Tom and Abraham were putting on Indian
uniforms which Mr. Brandon years before brought home from the tribes
along the shores of the St. Lawrence--buckskin breeches and coats, fur
caps trimmed with eagle's feathers. Tom tripped upstairs to the
garret, and returned with a bunch of garget berries, with which they
stained their faces and hands.
"You look just like Indians," said Berinthia.
"Say nothing to nobody as to what you have seen, 'Rinth," said Tom, as
he closed the door and walked with Abraham rapidly along the street.
In the Old South Meetinghouse Josiah Quincy was speaking. The sexton
brought in two tallow candles and placed them on the table before the
moderator. There was a stir at the door--a commotion--a turning of
necks in the pews, as the young merchant, Mr. Rotch, entered the
building. Many in the audience thought he had been lukewarm in his
desire to have the tea sent back to London, and were ready to hiss at
him.
"Let us be just," said Doctor Young. "Let no one utter a word against
our fellow-citizen. He is doing all it is possible for him to do to
have the detested tea sent back."
The murmuring ceased as Samuel Adams addressed him:--
"Will you, Mr. Rotch, send the Dartmouth back to London with the tea
on board?"
"Were I to make the attempt in compliance with the request of the
people it would be my ruin."
Roger and all around him saw what they had not seen before, that were
he to make the effort his ship would be seized and himself arrested,
and in all probability sent to England to be tried for treason.
"Who knows how tea will mix with salt water?" shouted John Rowe.
"Let us treat the fishes to a cup of tea," shouted another, and the
windows rattled with their stamping.
"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!"
It was a yell from the street.
"Let the meeting be in order. It is a trick of our enemies to distract
us," shouted some one.
"Order, gentlemen!" cried the moderator.
"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!"
Longer and louder the yell.
"The Mohawks! the Mohawks!" the cry at the door.
Those in the galleries left their seats and hastened down the stairs.
People were rising in the pews and crowding the aisles.
"This meeting can do no more," said Mr. Adams, and he declared it
adjourned.
The people saw forty or fifty Indians who had suddenly appeared upon
the street. Where they came from no one knew, but they were rapidly
making their way to Griffin's Wharf where the ships were lying. Roger
Stanley and a great number of citizens followed them. The sentinels
with muskets on their shoulders, keeping watch over the ships, made no
effort to stop the Mohawks. Roger saw the ship Dartmouth alongside the
wharf and the Elenor and Beaver a little distance from it. The chief
leaped on board the Dartmouth. The captain was on the quarter-deck;
the crew huddled at the bow were astonished to see Indians with
tomahawks climbing over the sides of the vessel.
"The Mohawks will unload your tea. Please direct your men to open the
hatches and then order them below into the forecastle," said the
chief, addressing the captain. "You will retire to your cabin. The
Mohawks will not injure your ship or do you any harm."
It was spoken resolutely and in such good English that the captain
understood every word. The sailors lifted the hatches, provided
hoisting tackle, and disappeared down the forward hatchway, and the
captain retired to his cabin. Roger saw an Indian run up the shrouds
by the mainmast and hitch a tackle. He thought the savage had some
resemblance to Tom Brandon. He also saw by the light of the moon, near
its first quarter, that while one party of savages were at work upon
the Dartmouth, others were warping the Elenor and the Beaver to the
dock. It was nearly low tide, and the waves were swashing the timbers
beneath the wharf. Not far away lay the Romney with her cannon peeping
from the portholes. Very quietly the Mohawks began their work,
hoisting chests from the hold, cutting them with hatchets, pouring the
contents over the sides of the vessels. Roger felt a desire to take
part in the work. Running to a blacksmith's shop, he smeared his face
and hands with charcoal, took off his coat, turned it inside out, put
it on, leaped on board the ship, seized a hatchet, smashed the chests,
and tumbled them overboard. The Indians worked in silence. The clock
was striking ten when the last chest was thrown into the dock. Their
work finished, the chief rapped upon the cabin door, and the captain
opened it.
"We have discharged your tea, captain, but we have disturbed nothing
else. If we have we will cheerfully pay the damage."
The captain thanked him for being so considerate.
Tom, Abraham, and Roger, and the other Indians, walked up the street
past the house of Nathaniel Coffin, his majesty's receiver-general.
His eldest son, Isaac, one of Tom's schoolmates, had just sailed for
England, Admiral Montague having obtained a commission for him in the
king's navy, but John, the younger brother, was at home.
Admiral Montague was there standing by an open window.
"Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for your Indian
caper; but don't forget, you will have to pay the fiddler by and by."
"Oh, never mind, admiral, we are ready to pay him now," Tom replied.
The other Indians laughed as the admiral closed the window and turned
away.
Very quietly the Mohawks separated. Abraham went to his own house,
Roger went with Tom. They were soon in their chamber washing the
garget stains and charcoal from their faces and hands.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!" went the knocker on the door.
They heard feet tripping over the stairs and then Berinthia's voice.
"Oh, Tom, the officers are at the door. Put out your light. Let me
have your Indian clothes. Get to bed, quick."
Tom raised the window, emptied the water from the bowl into the alley
behind the house, handed his Indian suit to Berinthia, put out the
light, and jumped into bed. Captain Brandon was not at home, having
gone to Maine to obtain timber for the building of a ship. Berinthia
returned to her room, lifted the sheets and blankets, tucked Tom's
suit safely away between the feather bed and the straw mattress
beneath it.
"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" went the knocker, louder than before.
Tom heard Berinthia's window open.
"Who's there, and what is wanted?" It was Berinthia speaking.
"Is Captain Brandon at home?" asked one of the men at the door.
"He is not. He is in Maine."
"We want to search your house."
"Why do you wish to search it?"