THE FIRST SKIRMISH
"Andy! Andy!" screamed Ralph Post.
But Andy Sabine did not answer. Amid a scene of wild riot and
turbulence, wreathed with the actual smoke of battle, the centre of a
struggling, battling crowd of yeoman and militia, the Concord boy was
swept from view like one on the wings of a cyclone.
It was wonderful what a few hours time had wrought in the destinies
and environment of the three loyal chums, who had not reached the city
they had started out for, but instead had become involved in the first
sanguinary conflict of the War of the Revolution at its most active,
seething centre. Never could any one of them forget the escapades of
the past night. It was like some dream--the wild dash down the old
country road from the Charles river, inspirited by Phil Warrington's
final heroic decision: "On to Lexington!"
They made little progress that was not attended by stirring incidents.
There was not a village they passed that was not in a state of
barricade, preparation, or practically deserted. Bonfires were blazing,
men, women, even children were wide awake. Some particular building in
these little hamlets was usually the focus of local military fever.
Here were grouped men with every conceivable weapon from a blunderbuss
to a pitchfork, boys with hatchets, bows and arrows, even slingshots.
Wherever they owned a cannon, no matter how small, it was planted
conspicuously.
The lack of fear was remarkable. All acted as if an hour long
anticipated had arrived, and they were prepared for the conflict.
Attics and roofs were occupied by men with all their available firearms
by their side. The hedges and timber concealed any number of men on
the watch for the first token of the approach of the foe. On top of
many a hill a great brush fire was kept burning, furnishing a circle of
beacons as far as the eye could reach.
All this Phil, Andy and Ralph saw, and every advancing mile showed how
well Paul Revere and another messenger named William Dawes had sounded
their warnings to the ready colonists. It was only when they reached
Lexington, however, that the boys realized that the hurry and scurry
and unbottled enthusiasm all led to one central point where the first
stand of the patriots was to be made.
The little town was being patrolled by men having some semblance of
system and discipline. In fact, as the little group came cantering into
the town, they were greeted with suspicion, were boldly challenged, and
had to explain how they came to be riding horses with accoutrements
manifestly belonging to the enemy. There was a talk of "Headquarters,"
and, Phil in the lead, their horses hitched outside of the town hall
building, they were marshalled into the presence of a man upon whom
seemed to rest the leadership of the hundred or more men who were
scattered about the village, many of whom had come from neighboring
settlements to the defence of Lexington.
Phil told Captain Parker a good deal that was welcome and important.
The startling dash of Paul Revere had been only a warning. Here were
couriers direct from the midst of the British, already on the march
outside of Boston town. Their report was listened to with eagerness and
interest. Then their places were taken by new arrivals. A man would
come in with all the able-bodied male members of his family. A stray
little group of farmers next put in a plea for active service. No
one seemed disposed to shirk a duty--all was loyalty, enthusiasm and
courage.
"We're here," observed Phil, as he and his comrades stood outside once
more, "and I guess we are going to see the first battle of the war."
"See it?" echoed Andy vaingloriously. "Why, we're going to be a part of
it. I'm full of fight, myself," and he handled over the sabre attached
to the saddle of his horse, to which he had taken a great fancy.
Couriers had been sent back on the Boston road. These began to come in
as the hours wore on. The enemy was on the march ten miles, then eight
miles, and now only five miles away. In the meantime, the camp, as it
might be called, began to come into some shape and substance. Buildings
were transposed into forts, and the strongest detachment lurked about
the town hall and at the so-called arsenal of the village.
"You see, it's military stores the British are after on this raid,"
explained Phil. "They know that their capture or destruction will
cripple the cause, and here and at Concord are the biggest lot of these
stores outside of Boston."
"Why didn't they go quietly about it?" inquired Ralph.
"They expected to, but, as you have seen, our people were watching
their every move."
"I bet they will face a tremendous surprise," declared Andy. "Just see
how the people are aroused. There's a patriot in every hedge clear to
Charles river, and the Minute Men are bound to hinder the redcoats from
getting here."
Phil and his comrades were very proud to be sent on their horses to
carry important messages to outlying squads from Captain Parker and his
assistants. A good many boys of their own age were grouped on a slope
near the edge of the town. Phil and his friends decided to join them.
They picketed their horses at a short distance and shouldering the
muskets they had obtained mingled with the little squad.
The situation grew more tense as time passed on. The couriers came in
more numerously and swiftly, and in increased excitement. A belt of
timber shut out a sight of the road beyond Lexington, but finally there
rounded its final curve the advance guard of the enemy.
Phil never could realize how rapidly and sensationally, from the moment
he saw the first British soldier of the invaders, did things develop.
There was skirmishing from the instant they came in sight of the
town. Shots were exchanged with men from behind trees and hedges, in
stable lofts, half-concealed in haystacks. There must have been over
six hundred men in the British detachment, Phil calculated, under the
British officer Major Pitcairn. They were well-disciplined, for they
marched steadily forward, rarely breaking ranks, and seemed to have
some definite point in view.
It soon became apparent that the stout log house that comprised the
town arsenal, and which held military stores, was the place the
invaders intended to reach.
As Major Pitcairn came up close to the assembled colonists he suddenly
halted his force.
"Disperse, ye rebels, disperse!" he cried. "Lay down your arms, ere it
is too late!"
"Never!" cried several of the Minute Men.
"Disperse!" went on the British officer, and then, as the Americans did
not move, he fired his pistol. A moment later the British troops let
fly a volley of shots at the Americans.
"The battle is on!" yelled one patriot. "Give it to 'em, boys, give it
to 'em hot!" And he took aim with his musket and let drive, and all
those around him did likewise. In that first onslaught several were
killed on both sides and a good many were wounded.
Phil and those with him were forced to disperse. It was in the scurry
to new cover that Ralph made out Andy, who had become separated from
them, borne along with an onpressing crowd. Andy was hatless, and a
red-stained handkerchief bound his head. That he had been wounded there
was no doubt and Phil, made aware of Ralph's discovery, was truly
anxious for the welfare of his redoubtable chum.
"Halt--get ready!" roared a stentorian voice, and over the crest of
the hill dashed several leaders, directing little groups to action.
Phil, Ralph and several of their own age were stationed behind a marked
battery of bushes. The road space was cleared. Suddenly twenty men
swung around, and Phil saw what was brewing. They carried great round
logs.
"I'm in for that!" cried Phil, springing from cover, and Ralph joined
him.
Boom! A great log was dropped in its length and started on a roll down
hill. Boom! Boom! number two and number three followed. The advance
guard of the British, with dismayed yells, sprang aside or ran back.
The bottom of the road was piled up with the logs, presenting a
formidable barrier to the enemy.
"More logs, rocks,--anything!" was the next stentorian command. All
kinds of debris went scurrying down the hill. The redcoats retreated
down the road, but a special deploy was at work trying to move the
massed logs out of the way.
The word passed along the hill among the loyal contingent as to what
was planned. They had formed a stout barricade. If they could defend
this and divert the British troops from the road route, they might save
the town.
The redcoats however, despite missiles and bullets, kept at work trying
to clear the road. Material to continue the barricade was now lacking.
The proposed rush down the hill was deferred while two or three of the
patriot leaders counselled together.
"Phil, there's Andy again!" spoke up Ralph quickly.
Phil glanced in the direction indicated. Andy, impetuous, heroic Andy,
was the centre of a group of men and boys. They were rolling a keg,
Andy directing its progress. With a series of forceful yells, in which
Andy led, they halted at the crest of the hill.
Ready hands drew out the plug in the head of the cask, and a long fuse
was inserted and lighted. The British below saw what threatened, as
Andy balanced the keg so as to allow it to slide lengthwise down into
the barricade. Sharp orders rang out from the British ranks.
With sudden regularity and discipline the British regiment wheeled, not
daring to face the impending explosion. The keg of powder descended.
A giant puff shot upward, a great detonating report rang out. The
barricade was lifted and scattered about, all ablaze.
When the smoke cleared the boys knew that Lexington was saved. The
enemy had deployed, and were passing the town on a detour, but still
marching onward among the defenceless towns, carrying death and
destruction in their track.
Powder-grimed, a veritable wounded warrior, Andy Sabine ran up to Phil
and Ralph, his eyes aflame with the excitement and glamour of the
battle.
"Get the horses," he said quickly, "and get ahead of those redcoats.
This is just a skirmish. Concord is what they're after, strong, Captain
Parker says."
Ten minutes later the three chums were mounted on their horses, on
their way to the scene of the first real battle of the War of the
Revolution.