CHAPTER II—SHOWS HOW EZRA MET WITH GILBERT SCARLETT, SOLDIER OF
FORTUNE
CHAPTER III—TELLS HOW EZRA ENTERED THE HOUSE OF ABDALLAH
CHAPTER IV—TELLS WHAT BEFELL EZRA THEREIN
CHAPTER V—HOW JASON COLLYER CAME TO THE “PLOW AND HARROW”
CHAPTER VI—SHOWS HOW EZRA ADVENTURED TOWARD THE “INDIAN’S HEAD”
CHAPTER VII—EZRA MEETS WITH A STRANGE EXPERIENCE
CHAPTER VIII—EZRA MAKES UP HIS MIND TO A DANGEROUS VENTURE
CHAPTER IX—IN WHICH EZRA FARES INTO THE CITY OF THE ENEMY, AND HEARS
THE VOICE OF AN ACQUAINTANCE
CHAPTER X—TELLS HOW ILL NEWS CAME TO GENERAL GAGE
CHAPTER XI—TELLS HOW EZRA AND SCARLETT THRIVED IN BOSTON, AND HOW
THEY LEFT IT IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER XII—SHOWS HOW EZRA AND THE ADVENTURER WON BY THE BRITISH
FLEET
CHAPTER XIII—SHOWS HOW EZRA RODE WITH PRESCOTT TOWARD BUNKER HILL
CHAPTER XIV—IN WHICH IS FOUGHT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL
CHAPTER XV—SHOWS HOW EZRA CARRIED THE NEWS OF THE BATTLE, AND HOW HE
MET GENERAL WASHINGTON BY THE WAY
CHAPTER XVI—IN WHICH EZRA LISTENS TO A DARING PLAN, AND HOW THREE
SPIES LISTEN TO IT LIKEWISE
CHAPTER XVII—TELLS OF A RIDE THROUGH THE WILDERNESS AND OF HOW
TICONDEROGA’S GUNS BEGAN THEIR JOURNEY
CHAPTER XVIII—CONCLUSION
[Illustration: THE MAN TOOK A STEP FORWARD]
THE YOUNG CONTINENTALS AT BUNKER HILL
by
John T. McIntyre
Author of
“The Young Continentals at Lexington”
“The Young Continentals at Trenton”
Illustrated by Ralph L. Boyer.
The Penn Publishing Company
Philadelphia
MCMX
COPYRIGHT 1910 BY
THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
INTRODUCTION
“The Young Continentals at Bunker Hill” tells of four boys who were with
the American Army in the siege of Boston. It shows how Gage and the
British Army were hemmed in by the colonial troops, tells of the
stirring events in and about the beleaguered city, and finally of the
heroic stand upon Breed’s Hill by Putnam, Prescott and the little
patriot army. There is something also of the fights upon islands in the
bay, of the coming of Washington to assume command, and the hoisting of
the first American Union flag.
The same boys figured in an earlier volume, “The Young Continentals at
Lexington.” Their adventures are equally stirring here, and the blows
struck for liberty equally shrewd. This time Ezra Prentiss of the four
boys has the leading rôle; once suspected of being an enemy to the
colonies, he now proves that none can be more faithful than he.
Ezra and his friends appear again in a volume called “The Young
Continentals at Trenton.” It tells something of the struggles about New
York, and finally of the brilliant successes at Trenton and Princeton,
in all of which the boys play their little parts bravely and well.
CHAPTER I
HOW EZRA PRENTISS HEARD OF A STRANGER
The tall bay horse and the little roan mare went at a hard gallop down
the long, gentle descent of a hill. Both were flecked with foam, for the
going was hard, despite the brisk April weather.
“How is the mare taking it?” asked Ezra Prentiss, after a time, drawing
in the bay and patting his arched neck encouragingly.
The roan snorted and shook her head as though trying to answer for
herself.
“It’s rather hard on her, I’m afraid,” returned Ben Cooper. “But she’s
good for a great deal more of it.”
Part way down the slope both boys checked their mounts completely as
though by mutual consent. Ezra sat silently in his saddle and swept the
countryside with his steady gaze.
It was mid-afternoon and the sun was dropping fast toward the horizon in
the west. Acres and acres of brown furrowed fields lay before them upon
every side; afar off, men and horses were toiling with the plows; little
clumps of houses were to be seen here and there, and tall columns of
smoke ascended from the wide-mouthed chimneys into the clear air.
“We are going to have plenty to do from here to Chelmsford,” spoke Ezra
at length. “The houses thicken considerably and there seem to be a great
many men at work in the fields.” He paused once more, and then turning
to Ben, added, “Do you think we can speak to all of them before night
sets in?”
“If you took one road and I another, we might,” said Ben.
Ezra frowned. It was very evident that he did not particularly favor
this.
“Since starting out from Cambridge we have separated twice,” said he.
“And each time it had an almost serious result.”
“First a parcel of Tories were for putting an end to me for what they
called treason to King and Parliament,” spoke Ben, good-humoredly.
“And that rascally tinker near Acton almost decoyed me into another nest
of them,” added Ezra. “In these unsettled times the road is safer for
two than one, especially after dark.”
Ben nodded.
“Right,” said he.
“However,” proceeded Ezra, “more or less danger was expected when we
started out.” He touched the handle of a heavy holster pistol, and
something of Ben’s good humor came into his face. “Another thing, the
Tories are running as much risk as we are.”
“Right again,” declared the other boy. “That, I think, is the proper way
to look at it.”
“And then,” continued Ezra, shifting his hand to a saddle pocket, almost
filled to bursting with what looked like printed sheets, “we have these
to deliver and no great time to do it in.”
There was a silence between them; they studied the country from the
hillside and seemed to be revolving the matter earnestly. The brown
fields were cut by the fairly smooth road which they were on, and a
narrow, rutted wagonway.
“I’ll take this,” said Ezra, pointing toward the latter; “there seem to
be quite a number of farmhouses over there beyond that rise, if we can
judge by the smoke. You hold to the highroad and don’t miss a single man
or boy.”
“Trust me for that,” said Ben. “But,” complainingly, “you always pick
the hardest things to do for yourself. Molly is just as fresh as that
beast of yours. And then she’s lighter and can pick her way along that
broken road like a cat.”
Ezra laughed; and there was a look of appreciation in his eyes as he
slapped his friend upon the back.
“Ben,” exclaimed he, “you’re the greatest fellow I ever knew! You always
think your share of the work the easiest, no matter what it is. If
General Ward had an army of fellows like you before Boston, Gage would
not be able to hold the town for a week.”
Far away, against the horizon line, a spire arose from amidst a clump of
dwellings.
“I will meet you there as soon after dark as I can,” continued Ezra, his
outstretched finger indicating the tower. “If there is an inn wait for
me there.”
After a few words more, Ezra urged the reluctant bay into the much cut
wagon road; Ben, upon the soft-stepping roan, went loping easily down
the highroad, his usually laughing face grave as became a rider with an
urgent mission to perform.
Ezra Prentiss after a time dismounted and led his steed by the bridle.
“Mr. Paul Revere used to say a horse well looked after always finished
earlier in the day,” said he to himself with a smile. “And I guess it’s
true. At any rate, old fellow,” to the bay, “the going is too hard for a
rider here; so I’ll try walking for a little, anyway.”
In a field he saw two men working with teams of oxen. He waited at a
fence corner until one of them had completed his furrow.
“Good-day, neighbor,” called the boy.
“Good-day,” returned the farmer.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and approached Ezra, glad of an
excuse for a moment’s rest from his toil.
“Riding from Boston way?” he inquired eagerly.
“I left Cambridge a few days ago,” replied Ezra.
As he spoke the lad drew out one of the sheets from his saddle pocket
and unfolded it. It was covered with an announcement in heavy,
bold-faced type.
“This,” said the boy, “is issued by the Massachusetts Committee of
Safety, and riders have been sent out in every direction to deliver them
to the towns and people round-about.”
The farmer took the circular and began an earnest study of its appeal.
The other man, seeing that something unusual was going forward, halted
his team and also approached. Leaning over the shoulder of the first,
he, too, read the earnest lines.
“You have heard long since what has been done,” said Ezra, soberly, when
the two had finished and stood silently gazing at him. “We have struck
the first real blow against the oppressors of the colonies. But what was
done at Lexington and Concord is only a beginning.”
“A beginning!” said the first man, in surprise.
“Do you really mean to say that Dr. Warren and those others actually
intend to go further in the matter?” exclaimed the second.
“They must,” said Ezra. The two before him had weak, wavering faces and
thin, light-colored hair; from the close resemblance they bore each
other, he judged they must be brothers. “To get any result from the
first blow, a second must be struck,” he went on. “There would have been
no use in making a beginning if an ending were not also made.”
“England is a powerful nation,” said the first man. “Eh, Josiah?”
“Mighty powerful,” agreed the other, “and so is the King and
Parliament.”
“If the people of the colonies remain united and if every man does his
full duty, the power of England, her King and Parliament, will be as
that,” and the boy snapped his fingers. “This circular calls for the
towns to encourage the enlistment of men in the colonial army, as you
have seen. It tells you that every moment is precious. A day’s delay may
mean the loss of all; it may bring slavery upon you.” He was quoting the
document.
But the two men shook their heads. Indecision and fear of the situation
were plain in their faces.
“We’ve just lately taken this farm,” said the one called Josiah, “and
we’ve counted on this season’s yield to help pay for it. We can’t go
into the army.”
“If every one thought of his personal affairs,” said Ezra, “our tyrants
would crush us into the earth.” The boy had absorbed the resonant talk
of the times, and its use had become a habit upon the present mission.
“Take, for instance, men like Mr. Hancock, Mr. Adams, Dr. Warren, and a
score of others. They risk very large fortunes in the cause; they give
every moment of their time to it. They have done so from the first.”
But there was one thing that the men were firm in—their indecision.
“We’d like to join; we’d like to do all we can. But things won’t let
us.” The speaker shook his head nervously. “No, things won’t let us.”
“You think that by holding back you’ll save your property, your season’s
crop and all that,” spoke Ezra Prentiss. “But I believe you are
mistaken. Suppose most of the men and boys of the towns held back as you
seem inclined to do? What then?”
“It might be a good thing,” answered Josiah, fearfully.
“It is sure to be a very bad thing for you and everybody else. If there
is no army to oppose him, Gage will march his regiments out of the city,
and he’ll seize, burn and destroy until he has the people of
Massachusetts upon their knees.”
The fear that filled the eyes of the two brothers was almost pitiful to
see.
“Do you think that will happen?” asked one.
“I sincerely do,” returned Ezra, who, to tell the truth, was rather
disgusted at this exhibition of selfish cowardice.
The farmers consulted together in whispers. Then Josiah said:
“As my brother remarked, we’d like to do all we can. But we have doubts.
It’s not altogether our property that holds us back.”
“What then?” asked Ezra.
The man looked toward his brother, who nodded what was intended to be
encouragement; but it was of a very timorous sort, indeed.
“Things hereabouts are not altogether right,” said Josiah, lowering his
voice to a whisper and leaning over the fence that Ezra might hear.
“They haven’t been just what you might call right for some time.”
Ezra regarded him wonderingly.
“Nothing has been right in all the colony for some time,” said he. “So
what you say is not surprising.”
The man coughed dryly and waved his hand.
“You don’t quite understand what I mean,” said he. “What you refer to is
what everybody has seen, and everybody knows. But what I refer to is
what nobody but my brother and I have seen, and what, more than likely,
nobody else has any idea of.”
“Something that has to do with the public good?” inquired Ezra.
The man hesitated; but his brother made answer for him.
“Yes,” spoke he, “you might call it that.”
Ezra led his horse nearer to the fence and threw the rein over a post.
“Perhaps,” said he, “you wouldn’t mind being a little more definite.”
Once more the men consulted in whispers.
“He’s only a boy,” Ezra heard Josiah protest.
“But he’s from the head of matters at Boston,” argued the other, in a
low but perfectly distinct tone. “They seem to trust him, so why not
we?”
This seemed unanswerable reasoning; so Josiah again turned to the lad.
“Do you know this section very well?” he asked.
“No,” replied Ezra.
“Well, we do,” said the man. “In fact, we were born and raised
hereabouts. And we know every man-jack for miles around.”
“Naturally,” said the boy.
“So,” proceeded Josiah, “if a stranger comes to live here, particularly
a queer-acting stranger, we’d be likely to take notice of him. And if he
rented the next place to ours,” with a jerk of the head down the
wagonway, “we’d be likely to more than particularly take notice.”
“Well?” asked Ezra, patiently.
“Some time ago, just such a man did just that very thing,” said the
farmer earnestly. “He is odd. He’s not friendly. He keeps great dogs
and, save for them, seems to live alone. But now and then strangers
come. They always come after dark and are gone by daylight. Who they
are, and what they are, we never have been able to find out.”
“It does seem rather queer,” admitted Ezra. “But I can scarcely see just
how it can have anything to do with the matter between the colonies and
the King’s government.”
“Neither do we,” confessed Josiah. “We can’t see it either. But we feel
it. It’s just as though we were being watched, somehow. We feel that
everything we do is taken note of by somebody we can’t place. And we
think,” again fearfully nodding down the wagonway, “that it’s that man.”
Ezra studied the men carefully. That they were of a tight-fisted,
timorous sort, he had already made up his mind; but he had not given
them credit for so much imagination as they displayed. However, that
they were sincere was not to be denied.
He remained for some time, questioning them curiously; at length he
mounted his horse and prepared to move on.
“It’s more than likely,” said he, settling himself in the saddle, “that
this man’s strange way of living has gradually brought you to thinking
other strange things of him.” He gathered up his reins; the bay moved
forward a few steps; then he was brought to a halt once more, and the
boy turned, one hand resting on its flank. “Where did you say he lived?”
he asked with a careless air.
“About three miles below there,” said Josiah’s brother, pointing down
the road. “You come to a wood, then to a stream of water, crossed by a
bridge, and just above it is the house, by the roadside. But don’t stop.
Because if the dogs are loose, which they generally are, coming on
night, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”
“Thanks,” replied Ezra. “I’ll look out for them.” He waved his hand.
“Good-bye, and give the Committee’s circular another reading. There are
truths in it that can’t be denied.”
Then with a glance at the fast lowering sun, he touched the bay with the
spur and turned down the narrow road.