To the great delight of the young people on board the "Dolphin" the sun
shone in a clear sky the next morning.
Soon after breakfast they were all on deck, as usual in pleasant
weather, enjoying the breeze, the sight of passing vessels, and a
distant view of the land.
The Captain and Violet sat near together with the two little ones
playing about them, while Grandma Elsie, in a reclining chair, at no
great distance, seemed absorbed in a book.
"Mamma is reading something sad, I know by the look on her face," said
Walter, hurrying toward her, the others following. "What is it you are
reading, Mamma, that makes you look so sorry?" he asked, putting an arm
about her neck, and giving her a kiss. "Oh, that's Bancroft's History!"
"Yes," she said, "I was just looking over his account of the battles of
Lexington and Concord, and some things he tells do make me sad though
they happened more than a hundred years ago."
"Oh, please read them to us!" pleaded several young voices, all
speaking at once.
"I will give you some passages," she said; "not the whole, because you
have already been over that ground. It is what he tells of Isaac Davis
that particularly interests me," and she began reading.
"At daybreak the minute-men of Acton crowded, at the drum-beat, to the
house of Isaac Davis, their captain, who 'made haste to be ready.'
Just thirty years old, the father of four little ones, stately in his
person, a man of few words, earnest even to solemnity, he parted from
his wife, saying, 'Take good care of the children;' and while she
gazed after him with resignation, he led off his company.
"Between nine and ten the number of Americans on the rising ground
above Concord Bridge had increased to more than four hundred. Of
these there were twenty-five minute-men from Bedford, with Jonathan
Wilson for their captain; others were from Westford, among them
Thaxter, a preacher; others from Littleton, from Carlisle, and from
Chelmsford. The Acton company came last and formed on the right. The
whole was a gathering not so much of officers and soldiers as of
brothers and equals, of whom every one was a man well known in his
village, observed in the meeting-house on Sundays, familiar at town
meetings and respected as a freeholder or a freeholder's son.... 'The
Americans had as yet received only uncertain rumors of the morning's
events at Lexington. At the sight of fire in the village, the impulse
seized them to march into the town for its defence.' But were they
not subjects of the British king? Had not the troops come out in
obedience to acknowledged authorities? Was resistance practicable?
Was it justifiable? By whom could it be authorized? No union had been
formed, no independence proclaimed, no war declared. The husbandmen
and mechanics who then stood on the hillock by Concord river were
called on to act, and their action would be war or peace, submission
or independence. Had they doubted they must have despaired. Prudent
statesmanship would have asked for time to ponder. Wise philosophy
would have lost from hesitation the glory of opening a new era on
mankind. The train-bands at Concord acted and God was with them.
"The American revolution grew out of the soul of the people, and was
an inevitable result of a living affection for freedom, which set in
motion harmonious effort as certainly as the beating of the heart
sends warmth and color through the system. The rustic heroes of that
hour obeyed the simplest, the highest, and the surest instincts, of
which the seminal principle existed in all their countrymen. From
necessity they were impelled toward independence and self-direction;
this day revealed the plastic will which was to attract the elements
of a nation to a centre, and by an innate force to shape its
constitution.
"The officers, meeting in front of their men, spoke a few words with
one another, and went back to their places. Barrett, the colonel,
on horseback in the rear, then gave the order to advance, but not
to fire unless attacked. The calm features of Isaac Davis, of
Acton, became changed; the town school-master of Concord, who was
present, could never afterward find words strong enough to express
how deeply his face reddened at the word of command. 'I have not a
man that is afraid to go,' said Davis, looking at the men of Acton,
and drawing his sword, he cried, 'March!' His company, being on the
right, led the way toward the bridge, he himself at their head, and
by his side Major John Buttrick, of Concord, with John Robinson, of
Westford, lieutenant-colonel in Prescott's regiment, but on this day a
volunteer, without command.
"These three men walked together in front, followed by minute-men and
militia, in double file, trailing arms. They went down the hillock,
entered the byroad, came to its angle with the main road, and there
turned into the causeway that led straight to the bridge. The British
began to take up the planks; to prevent it, the Americans quickened
their step. At this the British fired one or two shots up the river;
then another, by which Luther Blanchard and Jonas Brown were wounded.
A volley followed, and Isaac Davis and Abner Hosmer fell dead. Three
hours before, Davis had bid his wife farewell. That afternoon he was
carried home and laid in her bedroom. His countenance was pleasant in
death. The bodies of two others of his company, who were slain that
day, were brought to her house, and the three were followed to the
village graveyard by a concourse of the neighbors from miles around.
Heaven gave her length of days in the land which his self-devotion
assisted to redeem. She lived to see her country reach the Gulf of
Mexico and the Pacific; when it was grown great in numbers, wealth,
and power, the United States in Congress bethought themselves to pay
honors to her husband's martyrdom, and comfort her under the double
burden of sorrow and of more than ninety years."
"Ninety years!" exclaimed Walter. "Oh what an old, _old_ woman she was!
I think they ought to have given it to her a great deal sooner,--don't
you, Mamma?"
"I do, indeed," she replied. "What a dreadful time it was! The British
soldiery behaved like savages or demons,--burning houses, murdering
innocent unarmed people. One poor woman--a Mrs. Adams, ill in bed, with
a baby only a week old--was driven out of her bed, out of her house,
and had to crawl almost naked to a corn-shed with her little one in her
arms, while the soldiers set fire to her house.
"They shot and killed an idiot perched on a fence looking at them as
they passed; and they brutally murdered two aged, helpless, unarmed old
men, stabbing them, breaking their skulls and dashing out their brains."
"I don't wonder the Americans shot down as many of them as they could!"
exclaimed Max, in tones of hot indignation. "Men that did such things
were not brave soldiers, but worse savages than the Indians. Oh, how I
wish our people had had the abundance of good weapons and powder and
balls that we have now! Then they'd have taught the insolent British
a good lesson; they would soon have driven Gage and all his savage
soldiery into the sea."
"I presume they would," said Mrs. Travilla; "but poor fellows! they
were very destitute of such needed supplies. This is what Bancroft
says about it:--
"All the following night, the men of Massachusetts streamed in from
scores of miles around, old men as well as young. They had scarce a
semblance of artillery or warlike stores, no powder, nor organization,
nor provisions; but there they were, thousands with brave hearts,
determined to rescue the liberties of their country.
"The night preceding the outrages at Lexington there were not fifty
people in the whole colony that ever expected any blood would be shed
in the contest; the night after, the king's governor and the king's
army found themselves closely beleaguered in Boston."
"Did the news fly very fast all over the country, Mamma?" asked Walter.
"Very fast for those times," she replied; "you must remember that
then they had neither railroads nor telegraph, but as Bancroft says,
'Heralds by swift relays transmitted the war messages from hand to
hand, till village repeated it to village; the sea to the backwoods;
the plains to the highlands; and it was never suffered to droop till it
had been borne north and south, east and west, throughout the land.'"
"But there wasn't any more fighting till the battle of Bunker Hill, was
there, Mamma?" asked Walter.
"Yes," she replied, "there was the taking of Ticonderoga and Crown
Point early in May, by a party under the command of Ethan Allen; there
were about a hundred 'Green Mountain Boys' and nearly fifty soldiers
from Massachusetts besides the men of Connecticut. The thing was
planned in Connecticut, and the expense borne there.
"Allen marched in the night to the shore of the lake opposite to
Ticonderoga. A farmer named Beman offered his son Nathan as a guide,
saying that he (the lad) had been used to playing about the fort with
the boys of the garrison, and knew of every secret way leading into it.
"Allen accepted the offer, but there was a difficulty about getting
boats in which to cross the lake. They had but few and day began to
dawn. If the garrison should be aroused their expedition was likely to
fail, for a great deal depended upon taking them by surprise; so Allen
decided not to wait for the rear division to cross, but to make the
attempt with the officers and eighty-three men who were already on that
side. He drew up his men in three ranks on the shore and made them a
little speech in a low tone: 'Friends and fellow-soldiers, we must this
morning quit our pretensions to valour, or possess ourselves of this
fortress; and inasmuch as it is a desperate attempt, I do not urge it
on, contrary to will. You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your
firelock.'
"Instantly every firelock was poised. 'Face to the right!' he cried,
putting himself at their head, Benedict Arnold close at his side, and
they marched quietly and steadily up to the gate.
"The sentinel there snapped his fusee at Allen, but it missed fire,
and he retreated within the fort. The Americans rushed in after him,
another sentinel made a thrust at one of them, but they ran upon the
guard, raising the Indian war-whoop, Allen giving the sentinel a blow
upon the head with his sword that made him beg for quarter.
"Of course the shout of our men had roused the garrison; and they
sprang from their beds, and came rushing out only to be made prisoners.
"Then young Beman guided Allen to the door of the sleeping apartment of
Delaplace, the commander. The loud shout of the Americans had waked him
and his wife, and both sprang to the door as Allen gave three loud raps
upon it with his sword and thundered out an order for the commander to
appear if he wouldn't have his whole garrison sacrificed.
"Delaplace threw open the door, showing himself only half dressed, in
shirt and drawers, with his pretty wife standing behind him peering
over his shoulder. He immediately recognized Allen, for they were old
friends, and assuming an air of authority, demanded his errand.
"Allen pointed to his men and said sternly, 'I order you instantly to
surrender.'
"'By what authority do you demand it?' asked Delaplace.
"'In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress,'
thundered Allen, and raising his sword over his prisoner's head,
commanded him to be silent and surrender immediately.
"Delaplace saw that it was useless to refuse, so surrendered, ordered
his men to parade without arms, and gave them up as prisoners. There
were forty-eight of them; and they, with the women and children, were
sent to Hartford as prisoners of war."
"And what did our men get besides the soldiers and women and children,
Mamma?" asked Walter.
"Cannon, and guns of various kinds, other munitions of war, a quantity
of provisions and material for boat building, and so forth, besides the
fortress itself, which Bancroft says had 'cost the British nation eight
millions sterling, a succession of campaigns, and many lives, yet was
won in ten minutes by a few undisciplined volunteers, without the loss
of life or limb.'"
"Oh, that was the very best of it, I think," said Gracie. "War wouldn't
be so very, very dreadful if it was all like that,--would it, Grandma
Elsie?"
"No dear," Mrs. Travilla replied, smiling lovingly upon the little
girl, and softly smoothing her golden curls.
"Was there any other fighting before the battle of Bunker Hill, Mamma?"
queried Walter.
"Yes," she said, "there were some encounters along this New England
coast."
"And Crown Point was taken too,--wasn't it, Mamma?" asked Rosie.
"Ah, yes! I had forgotten that part of my story," replied her mother.
"It was taken two days later than Ticonderoga, also without any
bloodshed. About the same time that Ticonderoga was taken, there was
a British ship called the 'Canceaux' in the harbour of Portland. The
captain's name was Mowat. On the 11th of May he and two of his officers
were on shore, when a party of sixty men from Georgetown seized them.
"The officer who had been left in command of the vessel threatened what
he would do if they were not released, and even began to bombard the
town. Mowat was released at a late hour, but felt angry and revengeful,
and succeeded in rousing the same sort of feeling in the admiral of the
station.
"A month later the people of a town called Machias seized the captain
of two sloops that had come into their harbour to be freighted with
lumber, and convoyed by a king's cutter called the 'Margaretta.' The
lumber was for the British army at Boston, and they, the Americans,
got possession of the sloops, after taking the captain, whom they
seized in the 'meeting-house.' The 'Margaretta' didn't fire on the
town, but slipped away down the harbour in the dark that night, and the
next morning sailed out to sea.
"Then forty men, under the command of Capt. Jeremiah O'Brien, pursued
her in one of the captured sloops, and as she was a dull sailer, soon
overtook her. An obstinate sea-fight followed; the captain of the
cutter was mortally wounded, six of his men not so badly, and after an
hour's fight the 'Margaretta's' flag was struck. It was the first time
the British flag was struck on the ocean to Americans."
"But not the last by any means!" cried Max, exultantly; "whatever may
be said of our land forces, America has always shown herself superior
to Great Britain on the sea. I'm very proud of the fact that though at
the beginning of the last war with England we had but twenty vessels
(exclusive of one hundred and twenty gun-boats), while England had ten
hundred and sixty, we whipped her."
"Quite true, Max," Mrs. Travilla said, smiling at the boy's ardent
patriotism, "and I am as proud of the achievements of our navy as you
can be; but let us give all the glory to God who helped the oppressed
in their hard struggle against their unjust and cruel oppressor."
"Yes, ma'am, I know," he answered; "America was most shamefully
oppressed, and it was only by God's help that she succeeded in putting
a stop to the dreadful treatment of her poor sailors. Just to think of
the insolent way the British naval officers used to have of boarding
our vessels and carrying off American-born men, who loved their own
country and wanted to serve her, and forcing them even to serve
against her, fairly makes my blood boil!" Max had in his excitement
unconsciously raised his voice so that his words reached his father's
ear.
The captain looked smilingly at Violet, "My boy is an ardent patriot,"
he said in a pleased tone. "Should we ever have another war (which
Heaven forbid!), I hope he will do his country good service."
"I am sure he will if he lives to see that day," returned Violet; "but
I agree with you in hoping the need of such service will never arise."
"But let us always remember," Evelyn said in reply to Max, "that
those cruel, unjust deeds, and the feelings that prompted them, were
not those of the English people, but of their Government and the
aristocracy,--I suppose because of their hatred of republicanism, their
desire to keep the masses of the people down, and themselves rich and
powerful."
"Yes," said Rosie, "it was just pure pride and selfishness. They didn't
like the doctrine of our Declaration of Independence that 'all men are
created equal.'"
Mrs. Travilla was turning over the leaves of her book again.
"Mamma," said Walter, "haven't you something more to read to us?"
"Yes," she replied, and began at once.
"On the ninth (of June) the 'Falcon,' a British sloop of war, was
seen from Cape Ann in chase of two schooners bound to Salem. One
of these was taken; a fair wind wafted the other into Gloucester
harbor. Linzee, the captain of the 'Falcon,' followed with his prize,
and, after anchoring, sent his lieutenant and thirty-six men in a
whale-boat and two barges to bring under his bow the schooner that had
escaped.
"As the barge men boarded her at her cabin windows, men from the shore
fired on them, killing three and wounding the lieutenant in the thigh.
Linzee sent his prize and a cutter to cannonade the town. They did
little injury; while the Gloucester men, with the loss of but two,
took both schooners, the barges, and every man in them, Linzee losing
half his crew."
"How vexed he must have been!" laughed Lulu. "Did he ever go back to
take revenge, Grandma Elsie?"
"No, I think not," she said, "though Gage and the British admiral
planned to do so, and also to wreak vengeance on the people of
Portland,--then called Falmouth,--where, as you probably remember,
Mowat had been held prisoner for a few hours in May of that same year.
"On the morning of the 16th of October Mowat again appeared in their
harbour in command of a ship of sixteen guns, attended by three other
vessels, and at half-past nine in the morning began firing upon the
town.
"In five minutes several houses were in a blaze; then a party of
marines landed and spread the conflagration. He burned down about
three fourths of the town,--a hundred and thirty dwelling-houses, the
public buildings, and a church,--and shattered the rest of the houses
with balls and shells. The English account makes the destruction still
greater. So far north winter begins early, and it was just at the
beginning of a severe one that he thus turned the poor people of that
town out of house and home into the cold, in poverty and misery."
"That was a Christian deed worthy of a Christian king," remarked Rosie,
scornfully.
"Bancroft says," continued her mother, "that the indignation of
Washington was kindled by 'these savage cruelties, this new exertion of
despotic barbarity.' General Green said, 'Death and destruction mark
the footsteps of the enemy; fight or be slaves is the American motto.'"
"And who wouldn't rather fight and die fighting, than be a slave?"
cried Max, his eyes flashing. "Grandma Elsie," he said, "you haven't
told us a word about the American navy. Didn't they begin one about
that time?"
"I think they did, Max," was her reply; "but suppose we call upon your
father to tell us about it. He is doubtless better informed than I in
everything relating to that branch of the service."
"Papa, will you?" asked the lad, turning toward the Captain and raising
his voice a little.
"Will I do what, my son?"
"Tell us about the doings of the navy in Revolutionary times, sir,"
replied Max, "as Grandma Elsie has been telling of the fights on land."
"Oh, do, Papa; won't you?" pleaded Lulu, hastening to his side, the
other girls and Walter following, while Max gallantly offered to move
Grandma Elsie's chair nearer to his father and Violet, which she
allowed him to do, thanking him with one of her rarely sweet smiles.