CHAPTER XXII
By noon we were well on our way towards Boston, I riding beside Mrs.Hamilton's carriage wheels, Jack Mount perched up on the box, and verygay in a new suit of buckskins which he bought from a squaw in thevillage, the woman being an Oneida half-breed and a tailoress bytrade.
So gorgeous was this newly tailored suit that, though my own buckskinswere also new and deeply fringed on sleeve and leg, even to the quilland wampum embroidery on the thigh, I did cut but a dingy figurebeside Jack Mount. His shoulders were triple-caped with red-fox furedges; he wore a belted hunting-shirt, with scarlet thrums; breechescut to show his long legs' contour to the clout, also gay with scarletthrums; and Huron moccasins, baldric, holster, and sporran, all ofmole-skin, painted and beaded with those mystic scenes of theFalse-Face's secret rites, common to the Six Nations and to otherNorthern and Western clans.
Proud as a painted game-cock with silver steels was Jack. Poor gossip,how different his condition now, with a rasher o' bacon and a cup ofale under his waist-band, a belt full of money outside of it, and hisscarlet thrums blowing like ribbons in the wind! A new fox-skin cap,too, with the plumy white-tipped tail bobbing to his neck, added thefinish to this forest dandy. Truly it did warm me to behold himruffling it with the best o' them; and it was a wink and a kiss forthe pretty maid in the pantry, and a pinch o' snuff with mine host,and "Your servant, ma'am," to Mrs. Hamilton, with cap sweeping thedust in a salute that a Virginian might envy and mark for imitation.
The post-boys slunk past him with rueful, sidelong glances; thefootman gave him wide berth, obeying the order to mount with analacrity designed to curry favour as soon as possible, and let thepainful past go bury itself.
"You had best," muttered Mount, with pretence of a fierceness he lovedto assume. "Gad! I'm minded to tan your buttocks to line mysaddle--ho!--come back! I'm not going to do it, simpleton! I only saidI was so minded. Into your saddles, in Heaven's name. Salute!--youmannerless scullions! Do you not see your mistress coming?"
I handed Mrs. Hamilton to her chaise, and stood in attendance whileshe tied on her velvet sun-mask, watching me steadily through theeye-holes the while, but not speaking. Yet ever on her lips hoveredthat smile I knew so well; and from her hair came that fresh scentwhich is of itself like the perfume of Indian swale-herb, and whichpowder and pomatum can neither add to nor dissimulate.
Over her gown of shimmering stuff, garlanded with lilac-tints, shewore a foot-mantle, for the road was muddy from the all-night rain,and this I disposed around her ankles when she had seated herself inthe chaise, and wrapped her restless little feet in a thick,well-tanned pelt.
"_Merci_," she said, in a whisper, with her bright eyes sparklingunder her velvet mask; and I closed the carriage and mounted Warlocknimbly, impatient to be gone.
"Michael," she said from the chaise window, nose in the air to watchme ride up.
"Madam," I replied, politely.
"Let Captain Mount ride your horse, and do you come into the carriage.I have so much to tell you--"
I made what excuse I could. She tossed her chin.
"I shall die of ennui," she said.
"Count the thraves in the stubble," said I, laughing.
"And talk to my five wits of the harvest? How amusing!" she retorted,indignantly.
"Repent the past, then," I suggested, smiling.
"Ay--but 'tis one blank expanse of white innocence, with never a stainto mark for repentance. My past is spotless, Michael--spotless--like afox-pelt, all of a colour."
Now, though we call foxes red, their ear-tips are jet black and theirbrushes and bellies touched with white. But she was right; yourspotless fox can have no dealings with a dappled fawn.
I signalled the footman and post-boys; the chaise creaked off downthe road, and I dropped behind, turning a sober face to therain-washed brightness of the world.
So we journeyed, coming into dry roads towards noon, where no rain hadfallen. And already it seemed to me my nostrils savoured that faintraw perfume of the mounting sea, which only those who have lived theirwhole lives inland can wind at great distances. It is not a perfumeeither; it is a taste that steals into the mouth and tingles far back,above the tongue. And it is strange to say so, but those who neverbefore have tasted the scent know it for what it is by instinct, andfall into a restless reverie, searching to think where they havesavoured that same enchanted ocean breath before.
At Grafton we baited at the "Weather-cock Tavern"; then on along theCharles River, with the scent o' the distant sea in every breath wedrew, through Dedham, past Needham, and north into a most lovelycountry of rolling golden stubble and orchards all red with apples,and bridges of stone, neatly fashioned to resist the freshets. Alas,that this fair province of Massachusetts Bay should lie a-gasping amidplenty, with the hand of Britain upon the country's thrapple to chokeout the life God gave it.
On the straight, well-laid high-road we passed scores of farmers'wains, piled with corn and yellow pumpkins, cabbages, squashes,barrels of apples, sacks o' flour, and thraves, all bound for Boston,where the poor were starving and the rich went hungering because theKing of England had been angered to hear men prate of human rights.
Since the 1st day of June the Boston Port Bill was in full effect, andthe city was sealed to commerce. Not a keel had stirred the waters ofthe bay save when the great bulging war-ships shifted their mooringsto swing their broadsides towards the town; not a sail was bent to theshore breeze in this harbour where a thousand vessels had cleared in asingle year from its busy port.
So when the city felt the punishment heavy upon her, and the poorstarved and the rich suffered, and the hot sun poured down on theempty rotting wharves, the farmers of Massachusetts Bay brought theirharvests by land to the famine-stricken city, and sister colonies sentgenerously of their best with the watchword: "Stand fast, Boston! AKing's anger is a little thing, but human rights shall not perishuntil we perish, every one!"
It was sunset as we turned into the Roxbury road, with the salt windblowing the marsh-reeds and ruffling the shallow waters of the harbourto the north and east. It was ebb-tide; beyond the eastern bog, farout in the yellow shallows, the harbour channel ran in a darkerstreak, glittering under the red blaze of sunset.
Wet marshes spread away to the north; the wind was heavy with thesalty stench of mud-flats uncovered at low-water, and all alive withsea-fowl hovering. Northeast the steeples of Boston rose, blood-red inthe setting sun; distant windows flashed fire; weather-vanes turned tojets of flame.
The red glow enveloped the road over which we travelled, now incompany with scores of other vehicles, all bound for Boston--coaches,flies, chaises, wagons, farm wains--all moving slowly as though thehead of the column had been checked by something which we could notyet see.
I rode forward to where Jack Mount was sitting on the box of thechaise, and he motioned me to his side.
"We're close to Boston Neck," he said. "Tommy Gage has been makingsome forts ahead of us since I last smelled the mud-flats yonder."
I rode on slowly, passing along the stalled line of vehicles, until,just ahead, I caught a glimpse of an earthwork flying the Britishflag. The red banner stood straight out in the sea-wind, rippling, andsnapping like a whip when the breeze freshened. Under it a sentrymoved, bayonet glittering as he turned, paced on, turned again, onlyto retrace his endless path on the brown rampart of earth.
I shall never forget that first coming to Boston, and the firstglimpse of the round city, set there in the sea with only a narrowthread of land to fasten it to the continent which had made the city'scause its own. Nor shall I forget my first sight of the city'slandward gate, closed by British earthworks, patrolled by Britishbayonets, with the red standard flying in the setting sun.
The Providence coach was standing in the road to my left, the sixhorses stamping restlessly, the outside passengers shivering in theharbour wind, while the red-nosed coachman muttered and complainedand craned his short bull-neck to see what was blocking the highwayahead.
> "It's them darned cannon," he explained to everybody who cared tolisten; "they're a-haulin' some more twenty-four pounders into theright bastion. Ding it! My horses are ketchin' cold an' bots an'ring-bone while we set here in a free land waitin' his Majesty'spleasure!"
"The cannon will come handy--some day," called out a passenger fromthe Philadelphia coach, stalled just behind.
"You'd better get your cannon out of the south battery before you layplans to steal these!" retorted a soldier, derisively, making his waytowards the city between the tangle of wheels and horses which almostchoked the road.
"We'll get 'em yet, young red-belly!" shouted a fat farmer, crackinghis whip for emphasis. His horses started, and he pulled them in,shouting: "Whoa, lass! Whoa, dandy! Don't shy at a redcoat; he can'tharm ye!"
"Gad!" burst out an old gentleman on the Roxbury coach, "is this rebelimpudence to be endured?"
A chorus of protestations broke from the tops of neighbouring coaches,but the sturdy old gentleman shook his cane, defying every Yankeewithin hearing, while the protests around grew to angry shouts andcries of: "Enough! Tar the Tory! Pitch the old fool into the mud!"
In the midst of the bawling and uproar the line of vehicles aheadsuddenly started, and those behind moved on, rumbling over the plankedroad with creaking wheels and thunder of a hundred hoofs, drowning thevoices of disputing Whig and Tory.
I looked up at the passengers as the huge mail-coaches with theirfour, six, or eight horses rumbled past. Many of the people glancedsomewhat curiously down at me, smiling to see a forest-runner mountedon so fine a horse as Warlock. And I was proud to sit the saddle undertheir gaze, not minding the quips and jests directed at me from above;though, when once a mealy faced post-boy shouted at me, I fetched hima cuff on the ear which nigh unseated him, and drew a roar of laughterfrom the people near.
The Philadelphia coach with passengers from Maryland and Virginia cameswaying up, horses dancing, guard standing by the boot, and soundinghis long coaching-horn--a gallant equipage, with its blue gear andclaret body showing through a skin of half-dry mud.
I glanced up at the outside travellers, thinking I might know someface among them, yet not expecting it. There were no familiar faces. Iwheeled my horse to watch the coach go by, glancing idly at the windowwhere a young girl leaned out, sucking a China orange. Our eyes metfor a moment; the girl dropped the orange and stared at me; I alsoeyed her sharply, certain that I had seen her somewhere in the worldbefore this. The coach passed. I sat on my horse, looking after it,cudgelling my wits to remember that red-cheeked, buxom lass, whoseemed to know me, too.
Then, as our chaise rattled by, with the post-boys urging the horses,and Jack Mount on the box, it came to me in a flash that the girl wasthe thief-taker's daughter from Fort Pitt.
I rode up beside Mount and told him in a low voice that Billy Bishop'sbuxom lass was ahead of us in the Philadelphia coach, and that he hadbest keep his wits and eyes cleared for Billy Bishop himself.
He shrugged his shoulders, not answering, but I noticed he was alertenough now, unconsciously fingering his rifle, while his quick eyesroamed restlessly as the chaise passed in between the Britishearthworks on the Neck.
Truly this Captain-General Thomas Gage, whom the King of England lovedso well, had cut Boston from the land as neatly as his royal masterhad cut it from the sea.
The Roxbury road ran through a narrow passage between two bastions ofearth, surrounded with a heavy abatis and _trous de loup_. In the leftbastion I could see magazines and guard-houses, and beyond it, nearthe shore, a small square redoubt, a block-house, and a battery of sixcannon. In the right bastion there was a guard-house, and beyond thata block-house on the shore of the mud-flats, while farther out in theshallow water lay a floating battery.
Our chaise rolled in through the earthworks and down a causewaysurrounded by water. This was Boston Neck, a strip of made land notwider than a high-road, and blocked at the northern extremity by asolid military work of stone and earth, bristling with cannon.
The gate guards eyed us sullenly as we drove into the city and up along, dusty road called Orange Street. We continued to Newbury Street,to Marlborough Street, Mount directing us, thence through Cornhill toQueen Street, where we drew up at a very elegant mansion.
Dismounting, I took Mrs. Hamilton from the carriage, and she unmasked,for the fire was dying out in the western heavens.
"If," she began slowly, "I should bid you to supper at my house, wouldyou hurt me with refusal, Michael?"
"Is this your house?" I asked, in surprise.
"Yes--my late husband's. Will you come?"
I explained that I cared not to leave Mount, and that also we mustseek a tavern as soon as might be, for we had much business on themorrow which could not wait.
She listened, with a faintly mocking air, then thanked me for myescort, thanked Mount for his share in providing me as her escort bystopping her carriage, and finally curtseyed, saying in a low voice:"Your charming Miss Warren is doubtless impatient. Pray believe methat I wish you joy of your conquest."
I thought she meant it, and it touched me. But when I stepped to herdoor-yard to conduct her, she turned on me like a flash, and I saw hereyes all wet and brilliant, and her teeth crushing her under-lip.
"For a charming journey in my own company, I thank you," she said;"for your conceit and your insufferable airs, I will find aremedy--remember that! My humiliation under your own roof is notforgotten, Mr. Cardigan, and it shall not be forgotten until you payme dearly!"
Astonished at her bitterness, I found not a word to answer. Aman-servant in purple livery opened the door. Mrs. Hamilton turned tome with perfect composure, returning my bow with the smile of anangel, and tripped lightly into her house.
The post-chaise had driven off into the mews when I returned to thestreet, but Jack Mount was waiting for me, patting Warlock, whosebeautiful head had swung around to watch for my coming.
"Well, Jack?" I asked, wearily.
"The 'Wild Goose Tavern' is ours," he said--"good cheer and company tomatch it."
I walked out into the paved street, leading Warlock. Mount swaggeredalong beside me, squaring his broad shoulders whenever we passed asoldier, and whistling lustily "Tryon County Men," till the stonystreets rang with the melody.
We now crossed into Treamount Street, passed Valley Acre on our rightinto Sudbury Street, then northwest through Hilliers Lane, crossingCambridge Street to Green Lane, and west again along Green Lane to thecorner of Chambers Street, where it becomes Wiltshire Street and runsdue north.
There was enough of daylight left for me to see that we were not in anaristocratic neighbourhood. Warehouses, ship-chandlers, rope-walks,and scrap-iron shops lined the streets, interspersed with vacant,barren plots of ground, rarely surrounded by wooden fences.
The warehouses and shops were closed and all the shutters and doorsfast bolted. There was not a soul abroad in the streets, not a lightto be seen save from one long, low building standing midway betweenChambers and Wiltshire Streets--an ancient, discoloured, ramblingstructure, with a weather-vane atop, and a long, pillared porch infront, from which hung a bush of sea-weed, and a red sign-boarddepicting a creature which doubtless was intended for a wild goose.
"Lord, Jack!" I said, "Shemuel's 'Bear and Cubs' appeared preferableto your 'Wild Goose' yonder. I'm minded to seek other quarters."
"Never trust to the looks o' things," he laughed. "God made woodchucksto live on the ground, but they climb trees, too, sometimes. Do Ithink on the hog-pen when I eat a crisped rasher? Nenny, lad. Come onto the cleanest tap-room in Boston town and forget that the shuttersyonder need new hinges!"
I led Warlock into the mews to a clean, well-aired stable, where anostler bedded and groomed him, and shook out as pretty a handful ofgrain as I had seen since I left Johnson Hall.
Then Mount and I went into the tavern, where half a dozen sobercitizens in string-wigs sat, silently smoking clay pipes with stemsfull three feet long.
"Good-evening,
the company!" said Mount, pleasantly.
The men repeated his salutation, and looked at us sleepily over theirpipes.
"God save our country, gentlemen," said Mount, standing still in thecentre of the room.
"His mercy shall endure," replied a young man, quietly removing thepipe from between his teeth. "What of the Thirteen Sisters?"
"They sew that we may reap," said Mount, slowly, and sat down,motioning me to take a chair in the circle.
The men looked at us curiously, but in silence, although their sleepy,guarded air had disappeared.
After a moment Mount asked if there was anything new.
"Yes," replied the young man who had spoken before; "the Lawyers' andMerchants' Club met at Cooper's in Brattle Square last night toreceive instructions from the Committee of Safety. I do not know whatnew measures have been taken, but whatever they may be we are assuredthat they will be accepted and imitated by every town in MassachusettsBay."
"Who were present?" asked Mount, curiously.
"The full committee, Jim Bowdoin, Sam Adams, John Adams, John Hancock,Will Phelps, Doctor Warren, and Joseph Quincy. Paul Revere called ameeting at the "Green Dragon" the same night, and the Mechanics' Clubsent invitations to the North End Caucus, the South End Caucus, andthe Middle District, to consider the arrival of British transportsfrom Quebec with the Tenth and Fifty-second regiments."
"What! more troops?" exclaimed Mount, in amazement.
"How long have you been absent from Boston?" asked the young man.
"Since April," replied Mount.
"Would you care to hear a few facts that have occurred since April,gentlemen?" asked the young man, courteously including me in hisinvitation. Mount called the tap-boy and commanded cakes and ale forthe company, with a harmless swagger; and when the tankards werebrought we all drank a silent but significant toast to the dark cityoutside our windows.
The young man who had acted as spokesman for his company now produceda small leather book, which he said was a diary. Pipes were filled,lips wet in the tankards once more, and then the young man, who saidhis name was Thomas Newell, opened his little note-book and readrapidly:
_1774, May 18._--Man-o'-war _Lively_ arrived with Gen. Gage. Town meeting called. _A._ sent Paul Revere to York and Philadelphia. _H._ very anxious.
_May 17._--Gage supersedes Hutchinson as Governor. _S. A._ has no hopes.
_June 1._--Three transports here with redcoats. _Thirteen Sisters_ notified.
_June 14._--The Fourth Regiment (King's Own) landed at the Long Wharf and marched to the Common. No riot.
_June 15, A.M._--Stores on Long Wharf closed. Forty-third Regiment landed. We are already surrounded by a fleet and army, the harbour is shut, all navigation forbidden, not a sail to be seen except war-ships.
_July 1._--Admiral Graves arrived with fleet from London, also transports with Fifth and Thirty-eighth Regiments.
_July 2._--Artillery landed with eight brass cannon. Camped on Common. _S. A._ notified _Thirteen Sisters_.
_July 4._--Thirty-eighth Regiment landed at Hancock's Wharf, with a company of artillery, great quantity of ordnance, stores, etc., three companies of the Royal Irish Regiment, called the Eighteenth Foot, and the whole of the Forty-seventh Regiment. Also bringing news that the Tenth and Fifty-second Regiments would arrive in a few days! _S. A._ sent riders to York and Philadelphia. Much hunger in town. Many young children dying.
Newell paused, glanced over the pages again, then shut the little bookand placed it in his breast-pocket.
Mount sat grim and silent, twisting the scarlet thrums on his sleeves;the others, with painful, abstracted faces, stared at vacancy throughthe mounting smoke from their long clay pipes.
Presently the landlord came in, glanced silently around, saluted Mountwith a quiet bow, paid his respects to me in a similar manner, andwhispered that we might sup at our pleasure in the "Square Room"above.
So, with a salute to the company, we rose and left the tap-room to thesilent smokers of the long pipes.
The so-called "Square Room" of the "Wild Goose Tavern" was a low,wainscoted chamber, set with small deep windows. It was an ancientroom, built in the fashion of a hundred years ago, more heavilywrought than we build in these days; and although the floor-beams hadsettled in places, and the flooring sagged and rose in littlehillocks, yet the place suggested great solidity and strength. Nor wasit to be wondered at, for this portion of the tavern had at one timebeen a detached block-house pierced for musketry, and the longloopholes were still there above the wainscoting.
Spite of its age and fortified allure, the "Square Room" was cheerfulunder its candle-light and illuminated sconces. Rows of framedpictures hung along the walls, the subjects representing coachingscenes in England and also many beautiful scenes from the sportinglife of country gentlemen.
Relics of the hunting field also adorned the walls, trophies offox-masks, with brush and pads, groups of hunting-horns, whips, andspurs, with here and there an ancient matchlock set on the wall,flanked by duelling-pistols, powder-horns, and Scottish dirks.
The furniture was of light oak, yet very clumsy and old-fashioned,being worn shiny like polished Chinese carvings. Pipe-racks of oakwere screwed into the wainscoting under long shelves, well stored withpewters, glass tankards, punch-bowls, and tobacco-jars.
There were a few small square tables scattered along the walls, butthe centre of the room was taken up with a long table, some threedozen chairs placed, and as many covers spread for guests.
To this long, tenantless table our host conducted us, seating us witha silent civility most noteworthy, and in sharp contrast to themajority of landlords, who do sicken their guests with obsequiousbabble.
"Well, Clay," said Mount, hitching his heavy chair closer to the whitecloth, "I left brother Jim in good spirits at Pitt."
The landlord bowed, and seemed gratified to hear it.
"You should know," said Mount, turning to me, "that our host isBarclay Rolfe, brother to Jim Rolfe, of the 'Virginia Arms' in FortPitt." And to the landlord he said, "Mr. Cardigan, late ward of SirWilliam Johnson, but one of us."
"I owe your brother much," said I, "more than a bill for a chaise andfour. Possibly you have heard from him concerning that same chaise?"
"I have heard through Saul Shemuel," he said, gravely. "I guess mybrother was tickled to death to help you out of that pickle, Mr.Cardigan."
"He shall not lose by it either," said I. "My solicitor, Peter Weaver,of Albany, has sent your brother full recompense for the carriage andanimals."
The elder Rolfe thanked me very simply, then excused himself to go tothe kitchen where our dinner should now be ready.
It was truly a noble dinner of samp soup, roast pork, beans, a boiledcod, most toothsome and sweetly salt, and a great wild goose, roastedbrown, with onion and sage dressing, and an aroma which filled theroom like heavenly incense.
With this we drank October ale, touching neither Madeira nor sherry,though both were recommended us; but I wished not to mix draughts toset that latent deviltry a-brewing in Jack Mount, so refused all saveale for himself and for me, though I allowed him a hot bowl with hishazel nuts.
We now withdrew to one of the small tables in a corner of the room, aservant bringing thither our nuts and hot bowls, and also some writingmaterials for me.
These I prepared to use at once, pushing the nut-shells clear, andseized the pen to cramp it in my fist and set to work, tongue-moisteningmy determined lips:
"OCTOBER 28, 1774.
"THOS. FOXCROFT, Esquire, "Solicitor, Queen Street, "Boston.
"MY DEAR SIR,--At what hour this evening will it prove convenient for you to receive the undersigned upon affairs of the utmost urgency and grave moment concerning Miss Warren whose interests I believe you represent?
&n
bsp; "The instant importance of the matter I trust may plead my excuse for this abrupt intrusion on your privacy.
"Pray consider me, Sir, "Y'r most obliged and obedient Servt "MICHAEL CARDIGAN.
"At the Wild Goose near Wiltshire and Chambers Streets."
Sealing the letter, I bade the servant take it and bring an answer ifthe gentleman was at home, but in any event to leave the letter.
Mount had taken a pipe from the stranger's rack, and now lighted it,peering out of the window, and puffing away in vast contentment.
Northward, across the water, the lights of Charlestown glimmeredthrough a thin fog. Nearer, in mid-stream, rose the black hull of aBritish war-ship, battle-lanthorns set and lighted, stabbing the darktide below with jagged shafts of yellow light, cut by little blackwaves which hastened seaward on the sombre ebbing tide.
As for Boston, or as much of it as we could see over the shadowy roofsand slanting house-tops, it was deathly dark and still. Fort Pitt,with its hundreds of people, which Boston could match with thousands,was far more stirring and alive than this dumb city of shadows, withnever a stir in its empty streets, and never a light from awindow-candle. Truly, we sat in a tomb--the sepulchre of all goodmen's hopes for justice from that distant England we had loved so wellin kinder days.
Somewhere, deep in the dim city's heart, a fire was burning, and wecould see its faint reflection on chimneys in the northwest.
"Doubtless some regimental fire on the Common," muttered Mount, "or asignal on Mount W--d--m, where the Light Horse camp. They talk to thewar-ships and the castle from Beacon Hill, too. It may be that."
Musing there by the window, we scarcely noticed that, little bylittle, the room behind us was filling. Already at the long table adozen guests were seated, some conversing, some playing absently withtheir glasses, some reading the newspapers through round horn-rimmedspectacles.
Many of them glanced sharply at us; some looked at Mount, smiled, andnudged others.
"Do you know any of these gentlemen, Jack?" I asked, in a low voice.
He swung around in his chair and surveyed the table.
"Ay, all o' them," he said, returning their amused salutations; "theyall belong to the club that meets here."
"Club? What club?" I asked.
"The Minute Men's. I meant to tell you that you're a member."
"I a member?" I repeated, in astonishment.
"Surely, lad, else you never could ha' passed these stairs. I am amember; I bring you, and now you're a member. There's no oath to takein this club. It's only when you go higher into the secret councilslike those o' the three caucuses, the Mechanics', and some others Ishall not mention, by your leave."
Mount watched the effect of his words on me and grinned.
"You didn't know that I am one of the Minute Club's messengers? That'swhy I went to Pitt. Did you think I went there for my health? Nenny,lad. I had a message for Cresap as well as you, and I gave it, too."
He laughed, and moistened his lips at the hot bowl.
"Paul Revere, the goldsmith--he who made the print of the BostonMassacre--is another messenger, but not of the Minute Club. He ishigher--goes breakneck to York for _S. A._, you know."
"What is S. A.?" I broke in, petulantly. "You all talk of J. H. and S.A. and the Thirteen Sisters, and I don't understand."
"S. A. is Sam Adams," said Mount, surprised. "J. H. is John Hancock, arich young man who is with us to the last gasp. The Thirteen Sistersmean the thirteen colonies. They're with us, too--at least we hopethey are, though York is a hell for Tories, and Philadelphia's full o'broad-brims who may not fight."
"But what is this Minute Men's Club?" I asked, curiously.
"Headquarters for delegates from the Minute Men and all alarmcompanies in Massachusetts Bay. You know that every town, village, andhamlet in the province is organized, don't you? Well, besides theregular militia we have alarm companies, where half of the men areready to march at a minute's notice. One officer from every companythroughout the province is delegated to attend the Minute Club here,so that he can keep his company in touch with the march of events.
"Besides that, the club has a corps of runners, like me, to travelwith orders when called on. I'm in for a rest now, unless somethingpressing occurs."
"And--what am I in this club?" I asked, smiling to see how well JackMount had kept his secrets since I first knew him.
"You? Oh, you are a recruit for Cresap's battalion," said Mount, muchamused. "We recruit here, for certain companies."
"Is Cresap coming here?" I asked, eagerly.
"He marches in the spring with his Maryland and PennsylvaniaRangers--to pay his respects to Tommy Gage? Nenny! To help turn thispack o' bloody-backs out of Boston, lad, and that's the truth, whichyou should know."
I sat silent, pondering on the strange circumstances of these monthswhich had brought me so swiftly, from my boyhood's isolation, into thethick of the tremendous struggle between King and colony, a strugglestill bloodless, save for the so-called Boston Massacre of some yearspast.
That Mount had coolly recruited me without my knowledge or consentdisturbed me not at all: first, because I should have offered my poorservices anyway; second, because, had I been free to select, I shouldhave chosen to serve with Cresap's men, knowing him, as I did, for abrave and honourable young man.
I told Jack as much, and his face brightened with pleasure. Heinsisted on presenting me to the company--which was now fast fillingthe room--as one of Cresap's Rangers; and he further did mostfoolishly praise me for my bearing in certain common dangers he and Ihad shared, which made me red and awkward and vexed with him for myembarrassment.
The gentlemen I met were all most kind and polite; some appeared to begentlemen bred, others honest young men--over-silent and sober fortheir years, perhaps, but truly a sturdy, clean-limbed company, neatlybut not fashionably attired, and the majority characterized by acertain lankness of body which tended to gauntness in a few.
All were officers of alarm companies belonging to the numerous townsof the province; all were simple in manner, courteous to each other,and thoughtful of strangers, inviting us to wine or punch, and takingno offence when I prudently refused, for my own sake as well as forJack's.
Two soldiers of the Lexington militia entertained me most agreeably;they were Nathan Harrington and Robert Monroe, the latter an oldsoldier, having been standard-bearer for his regiment at Louisburg.
"For years," he observed, quietly, "the British have said that allAmericans are cowards, and they have so dinned it into their own earsthat they believe it. It is a strange thing for them to believe. Whowas it stood fast before Duquesne when Braddock's British fled? Whotook Louisburg? What men have fought for England on our frontiers fromour grandfathers' times?"
"Ay," broke in Harrington, "they tell us that we are yokels withoutwit or knowledge to fire a musket. Yet, to-day, two-thirds of the menin our province of Massachusetts Bay have served as soldiers againstthe French or the savages."
"That we are under the King's displeasure," said Monroe, "I can wellunderstand; but that he and his ministers and his soldiers should wishto deem us cowards--we who are English, too, as well as they--passesmy understanding."
"Mayhap they will learn the truth ere winter," observed Harrington,grimly.
"If I or my friends be cowards, I do not know it," added Monroe,simply. "It is not well to boast, Nathan, for God alone knows what aman may do in battle; yet I myself have been in battle, and wasafraid, too, but never ran. I carried England's flag once. It is notwell that she foul her own nest."
"I have never smelled powder; have you, sir?" said Harrington, turningto me.
"Not to boast of," I replied.
"Mount says you conducted most gallantly under fire," said Monroe,smiling.
"No more gallantly than did all at Cresap's fort," said I, annoyed."We were behind ramparts and dreaded nothing save an arrow or two."
"But you had some warm work with certain Tories
, too," beganMonroe--"one Walter Butler, I believe."
"How did you hear of that?" I asked, in astonishment.
"Benny Prince brought the news," he replied. "Where he heard it I donot know, but it is noised abroad that you laid no kind hands onWalter Butler and Lord Dunmore. Nay, sir, you should not be surprised.We have our agents everywhere, listening, watching, noting all factsand rumours for those whom I need not name. We know, for instance,that Walter Butler has travelled north in a litter. We know thatDunmore scarce dare show his head in Virginia for the shame you putupon him and the growing hatred of the people he governs. We know thatSir John Johnson is fortifying Johnson Hall and gathering hordes ofsavages and Tories in Tryon County. Ay, Mr. Cardigan, we know, too,that the son of your father will fight to the death for the causewhich his honour demands that he embrace."
"My father died for his King," I said, slowly.
"And mine, too," said Monroe; "but were he not with God to-day, I knowwhere he would be found."
Others began to join our group. Mount, who had been conversing with ahandsome and very fashionably dressed young man, approached our tablewith his companion, and presented me to him.
I had, of course, heard more or less of John Hancock, but had picturedhim as an elderly man, sober of costume and stern and gray. Thereforemy first meeting with John Hancock was a disappointment. He was young,handsome, decidedly vain, though quite free from affectation of speechor gesture. He appeared to lack that gravity of deportment anddeliberation which characterized the company around us; gestures andwords were at times impetuous if not whimsical; he appeared not toofree from an egotism which, I thought, tinged all he said, so that,somehow, his words lost a trifle of the weight they deserved to carry.
His style of dress was not to my taste, savouring of the French, Ithought. He wore an apple-green coat, white silk stockings, very largesilver buckles on his pumps, smallclothes of silver-net tied at theknees with pea-green ribbons, which fell to his ankles, and muchexpensive lace at his throat and cuffs.
His hair was frizzled and powdered, and worn in a French club withblack ribbon, and the hair on his temples was loaded with pomatum androlled twice.
He certainly was most civil to me, mentioning his pleasure thatCaptain Cardigan's son should embrace the patriots' cause, andinquiring most respectfully concerning the last moments of Sir WilliamJohnson, a man, he said, for whom he had entertained the highestpossible respect and admiration.
Our conversation was of short duration, Mr. Hancock being addressedand solicited by so many who had business with him in his capacity ofdelegate from the secret club at the "Green Dragon Tavern."
I learned from the hints dropped that Boston was literally crowdedwith clubs, some open, some secret, but all organized to discusspolitics, and pledged to combat the acts of the British Parliament tothe bitter end.
Many clubs were formed among the Boston mechanics, of which theMechanics' Society or Club was the centre. The Boston mechanics, Ilearned, were the earliest and most constant supporters of the patriotcause. Neither threats, temptations, Tory arguments, nor loyalistbribes could shake their fidelity; and they were the people, too, whohad most to lose when the city was closed to commerce. Starvationfaced them; troops thickened in Boston; but the mechanics remainedtrue. And although, when in dire need, to sustain their wives andlittle ones, they thoughtlessly started work on the new barracks, at aword of warning and explanation from the Committee of Safety, theyleft their work in a body, to the rage and chagrin of General Gage andevery soldier and Tory in Boston.
I further learned that the patriots carried on their political actionnot only by clubs and through the newspapers, but also by publicmeetings in defiance of Governor Gage.
All men know that we Americans have inherited the right of publicmeeting. But when the "regulating act" came from England to prohibitthat right, it missed fire, for though it did forbid such meetingunless authorized by Governor Gage, it did not provide for adjourningmeetings already in progress. Therefore the assemblies in all theprovincial towns had begun meetings in anticipation of the 1st ofAugust, the date set for their prohibition, and the meetings werecarried over that date, and kept alive day after day by not beingofficially declared adjourned.
It was useless for Gage to fume; he had no authority under the law toadjourn them.
In Boston the people flocked in crowds to Faneuil Hall and the OldSouth Church, where Samuel Adams, James Otis, and Josiah Quincy werethe orators. And the government, in secret dread, watched the peoplethronging around these fiery orators, whose theme was liberty andequal rights for all.
The Committees of Donation and of Correspondence were most active. Theformer was organized to distribute relief to the poor in the strickencity; the latter was formed to keep all patriots in all of thethirteen colonies in touch with each other, and to observe theapproach of the great current which was surely bearing war upon thewaves that formed its crest.
This Committee of Correspondence was the great executive of our party.It watched unceasingly: it received information from all thesocieties, clubs, town assemblies, caucuses, and local committees. Itdistributed all information, all warnings, all rumours, not only fromAmerica, but also, through its agents, from abroad.
Many of its members were also members of the "Green Dragon." JohnHancock was such a member, and therefore his presence here at the"Wild Goose" was perhaps significant.
That he was about to address the company was apparent, for everybodyhad now taken chairs and formed a semi-circle around Mr. Hancock, whostood leaning against the great centre-table, coolly taking snuff,and glancing over a written sheet of paper which he held in his lefthand.
"It may be," he said, "a trifle premature to discuss here in openmeeting those measures of resistance contemplated and now underdiscussion in the Committee of Correspondence, the ProvincialCongress, and the Continental Congress.
"It is sufficient, therefore, for the moment, that you should knowthat Virginia and South Carolina are at last aroused to the necessityof taking thought for their local defences. I may also add that myLord Dunmore's government increases in rigour and also in disfavour.
"The Committee of Correspondence has received word direct from Mr.Patrick Henry that he regards the cause of peace as already lost, andurges us to rely on Virginia, at least, for loyal support in whatevermeasures we may deem necessary to maintain our manhood in the face ofall the world."
A murmur of applause swept like a whisper through the room, hushedimmediately by cautious gestures and glances at the street outside,which might harbour a spy in its heavy gloom and impenetrable,brooding shadows.
"There is a certain document embodying a proposed declaration,"continued Hancock, "which, although at present merely underdiscussion, I expect to see one day printed, completed, and framed,and hung in every home in these thirteen colonies. You may perhapsimagine what document I refer to, and doubtless many of you sittinghere are not yet prepared for that supreme step forward in ourmanifest destiny. Neither, I may say, are many who have the framing ofthat declaration under discussion. Time alone will show that future ofwhich I, for one, am so certain.
"I am not here to discuss with you the proposed declaration inquestion, which is not even yet existent save in the hearts of thosewho have dared to dream of it.
"I am here to submit to you a list of crimes against our colony ofMassachusetts Bay, committed or contemplated by the King of England."
He unrolled his bit of paper, took a fresh pinch of scented snuff, andread, somewhat carelessly:
"The history of the present King of Great Britain:
"He refuses his assent to necessary laws for the public good.
"He forbids his Governors to pass laws of immediate importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent be obtained; and when so suspended he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
"He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual with intent to fatigue, discourage, and annoy t
he members of such bodies.
"He has repeatedly dissolved representative houses for opposing his invasions of the people's rights.
"He obstructs the administration of justice.
"He makes judges dependent on his will alone for tenure of office and payment of salaries.
"He has created a multitude of new offices and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people.
"He keeps among us, in times of peace, standing armies, without consent of our legislature.
"He renders his military independent of and superior to civil power.
"He protects these troops, by mock trials, from punishment for murders committed on the inhabitants of this province.
"He has cut off our trade with the whole world.
"He taxes us without our consent.
"He deprives us of the benefits of trial by jury.
"He transports us beyond the seas for trial for pretended offences.
"He takes away our charters, abolishes our laws, suspends our legislatures."
Hancock looked up, still holding the paper unrolled.
"Why," he said, lightly, "this is no King, but a Caesar amid hispraetorians! Faith, I have been reading some history of thetyrants--surely not the history of our beloved monarch, George theThird!"
There was a grim silence. Hancock's manner changed. He folded thepaper, placed it in the bosom of his white waistcoat, and turnedsoberly to the rows of silent, seated men.
"Yesterday," he said, "a carpenter was arrested for stealing bread forhis little children. May I request, gentlemen, that you send adelegate to the committee which will wait upon the Governor to-morrowto intercede for the starving man?"
Then, with a brief inclination, he turned and left the room ereanybody was aware of his purpose.
The effect of his unexpected appeal was as dramatic as his suddenexit. With one impulse the company rose, grave, pale, tight-lipped;little groups formed on the floor; few words passed; but Hancock haddone his work, and every alarm company in Massachusetts would know,ere many hours, that they were to fight one day, not for their honour,but to prevent the King of England from driving them to dishonour, sothat their children might not die of want before their eyes.
It was not an orator's effort that Hancock had accomplished; it was amere statement of a truth, yet so skilfully timed and so dramatic inexecution that it was worth months of oratory before the vastaudiences of Faneuil Hall. For he had startled the representatives ofhundreds of villages, and set them thinking on that which was closestto them--the danger to the welfare of their own households. Suchdanger makes panthers of men.
If Hancock was theatrical at moments, the end justified the means; ifhe was an egotist, he risked his wealth for principle; if he was adandy, he had the bravery of the true dandy, which clothes allgarments with a spotless, shining robe, and covers the face of vanityunder a laurelled helmet.
* * * * *
It was late when the servant returned from Mr. Foxcroft, with a curtnote from that gentleman, promising to receive me at one o'clock inthe afternoon of the day following.
As I stood twisting the letter in my fingers, and staring out into theblack city which perhaps sheltered the woman I loved somewhere amidits shadows, Jack Mount came up, peering through the window withrestless eyes.
"Cade has never returned to this tavern," he said, gloomily. "No onehere has either seen or heard of him since he and I left last Aprilfor Cresap's camp."