Chapter XXIV: In the Old Home 374 (10)

Day after day there came one to see him, the sound of whose footsteps was more inspiring than the roll of the drums, the touch of whose hand gave him strength, whose presence was a benediction. She sat by his side and read to him from the poets; told him pleasant stories; laid her soft hand upon his brow. When he was a little stronger, she and 'Rinthia supported his faltering steps up the stairway to the roof of the mansion, where he could sit in the sunshine, gaze upon the beautiful panorama, inhale the life-giving air from the hills, and the odors wafted from the sea. Across the Charles was the line of yellow earth behind which he went down in the mêlée. Upon the higher hill were the new and stronger fortifications constructed by the British. The fields, where so many of the redcoats were cut down by the fire of the New Hampshire men, were dotted with white tents. At the base of the hill were the blackened ruins of Charlestown. On Prospect Hill were the earthworks of the provincials. He could not discover any fortifications on Dorchester Heights, and wondered why either General Washington or the British commander had not taken possession of such a commanding position. The Americans ought to seize it; for, with cannon planted there, they could drive the warships from the harbor. He doubted if General Washington knew the value of the position. He was able now to go up and down the stairs without assistance; a few more days, and he would be strong and vigorous. Then what? He was a prisoner, and had not been paroled. If the British were to learn he was getting well, would they not be likely to send him on board one of the ships and pack him off to Halifax? Even if they did not take such a course, how could he remain there doing nothing. Oh, if he could only be with the army again! But were he to go, he must say good-by to her who had saved his life. Why not remain and enjoy the blessedness of her presence? But would she not think him wanting in manliness? On the other hand, if he were to make his escape and go back to the army, would he not in a sense be lifting his hand against her father and mother in his efforts to drive the British from Boston? More than that, was it not becoming plain, that were the British to go, the Tories must also go? for the bitterness between those who stood for the king and those who supported Congress was deepening. Mr. Newville sided with the king; he was holding an office under the crown. If the British were driven out, he would be compelled to leave, and in all probability his estate would be confiscated. If he himself were to make his escape to the army, would he ever again behold the face of Ruth Newville, ever again see the love beaming from her eyes, or feel the touch of her hand? How could he go and leave her with such uncertainty before him? And yet, would it not be ignoble to remain? If he could get away, was it not his duty to do so? Was not his country calling him?

Captain Brandon learned that General Howe had issued a proclamation threatening with death any one who might attempt to escape without a permit from himself. "More than this," said Mr. Brandon, "he has issued another proclamation for us to organize ourselves into companies to preserve order. He will furnish us with arms and supply us with provisions the same as the troops receive. We are commanded to report to Peter Oliver within four days. Being stiff in the joints, I shall not comply. Besides, I don't intend to leave such fare as you give me, Berinthia, for the salt junk and tainted pork doled out to the soldiers."

Once more there was a familiar step in the hall, and Ruth entered the room. The rich bloom of other days was once more on her cheeks, the old-time smile illumining her countenance. Her quick perception detected a mind disturbed. They sat down by the fire. She laid her hand in his, and leaned her head upon his shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked, smoothing the troubled brow.

"I have been thinking that I am still a prisoner, liable to be seized at any moment and sent far away or put in confinement. What ought I to do? Shall I attempt to escape, run the chance of being shot, or captured and executed, as threatened by the proclamation? If I make the attempt and succeed, possibly we may never meet again," he said with faltering voice.

"Never meet again! Why not?"

"I may be captured and hanged. If I reach the army, I shall do what I can to drive the British from Boston. If we do, the probabilities are that your father, holding office under the crown, will be obliged to leave the Colony: and his daughter"--

He could say no more. His lips were quivering, and tears coursing his cheeks. Her hand wiped them away; and her arm pillowed his bowed head.

"You are all the world to me. It is for you to say. Shall I go, or shall I stay?" he said.

The words were faintly spoken.

"Go, and God be with you. If it be his will, we shall meet again."

Oh brave heart! The world's redemption rests with such as you!

The busy brain of Berinthia planned the way. The British had seized all the boats along the wharves, and sentinels were guarding them, but there was an Indian canoe in the loft of the shipyard. Abraham Duncan would put it in trim and render all possible assistance.

No tears dimmed Ruth Newville's eyes when she bade him good-by and gave him a parting kiss. Not till she was in the seclusion of her own chamber were the fountains unsealed. Alone, she gave way to grief, to be comforted by her faith in One Unseen.

Many soldiers had deserted, so every night, at sundown, sentinels patroled the wharves, and boats manned by sailors and marines kept vigilant watch in Charles River and far down the harbor. Robert must go to the shipyard before sundown and remain secreted till well into the night. The new moon would go down at nine o'clock; the tide then would be half flood. What route should he take? Were he to go directly up the Charles River to join the army at Cambridge, he must run the gauntlet, not only of three or four of the warships, but of the marine patrol in the river and the sentinels on both banks. If he were to strike eastward toward the Mystic, he would encounter the guard in that direction and the warship Scarborough anchored in the channel. The route up the Charles was most direct and inviting, though beset with greatest danger.

During the day Abraham placed the canoe beneath the wharf of the shipyard. Bidding his friends good-by, with an overcoat to protect him from the cold, Robert made his way to the shipyard, secreting himself in one of the buildings just before the hour for placing the sentinels. The young tide was already setting up the bay, and a gentle wind blowing from the east, alike favorable for the execution of his plan; but with the sea-breeze came the fog, thick and dense, shrouding ship and shore. He rejoiced in the thought that it would cover all his movements and hide him from observation. But upon reflection there was another serious and disquieting aspect; how should he make his way and by what objects could he mark out his course? Would he not run upon the boats of the marine patrol and be hailed by the sentinels on the Boyne, Somerset, and other vessels of the fleet? He must run the chances and do the best he could.

The sentinels had been set along the wharves. The soldier guarding the shipyard was pacing his beat immediately in front of Robert's hiding-place. A thought came; why not seize his musket and have a weapon of defense? Noiselessly Robert opened the door: stealthy his step; one wrench, and the weapon was his, greatly to the astonishment of the surprised and frightened soldier, who saw his own bayonet pointed at his breast and heard the click of the gun-lock.

"Don't fire! Don't fire!" stammered the soldier.

"Take off that belt and cartridge box!"

The soldier obeyed the peremptory order.

"About face!"

Accustomed to obey orders, he faced as directed.

"March!"

Again he obeyed, taking the regulation step as if at drill, Robert following a short distance, then halting while the soldier continued the march. With the musket and cartridge box well filled, Robert seated himself in the canoe. He knew the Boyne with seventy guns, Preston with fifty, Phoenix, Lively, Scarborough, Empress of Russia, and several other smaller vessels of the fleet were anchored at different points. He had noted their positions during the day, but in the darkness and fog could make no calculations in regard to them. The flowing tide would be his only guide. By drifting with it, he would be borne to the Cambridge shore of the Charles, to General Washington's army, providing he could dodge the ships, floating batteries, and picket boats. Using the paddle, he struck out from the wharf, peering into the mist, his ears open to catch the faintest sound.

"Boat ahoy!"

The startling shout seemed to come from the sky. Looking up he saw the great black hull of the Boyne, recognizing the vessel by her triple tier of guns. He was almost beneath the bowsprit.

"Round to under the stern or I'll fire," said the voice.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Robert replied.

While drifting past the ship, so near that he could touch the hull with his hands, he was deciding what to do. Reaching the stern, with a stroke of the paddle the canoe whirled under it, then shot up the other side of the ship into the teeth of the tide, back once more to the stern, and while the puzzled sentinels on the deck were wondering what had become of the canoe he was disappearing in the fog, the success of his strategy giving zest to his enterprise. He had kept his bearings as best he could, but was not quite certain of his position, as he drifted once more.

"Boat ahoy! Who goes there?"

The challenge came, not from overhead, but from the fog before him. A backward stroke arrested his movement. Again the hail and no reply.

"Up with the anchor! Out with your oars!"

Evidently he had drifted upon one of the boats anchored in the ferry-way. Paddling away, he suddenly heard the swash of waves, and found himself approaching a wharf, but on which side the river he could not say.

"Boat ahoy! Halt, or I'll fire," the hail that came to him.

Peering into the mist, he saw the dim outline of a soldier raising his musket.

"Hold on. Don't fire. Please point me in the direction of the Boyne," said Robert.

The sentinel lowered his musket as if saying to himself, "This must be one of the officers of the frigate who has been on shore having a good time."

"The Boyne is right out in that direction," said the sentinel, pointing with his musket, "but my orders are not to let any one pass along the wharf after ten o'clock without they give the countersign."

"All right; always obey orders. I'll come to the wharf."

Robert could hear the dip of oars in the fog, and knew it must be the patrol boat pursuing him. He paddled towards the wharf as if to give the countersign, but the next moment shot under it as the other boat approached.

"Boat ahoy!" he heard the sentinel shout.

"Ahoy yourself! We are the patrol. Have you seen a canoe?"

"Yes, and the man inquired where the Boyne was lying, and disappeared quicker than greased lightning when he heard you coming."

Robert was making his way, the while, amid the piles of the wharf. He knew the tide must be near its full flood, for he had to crouch low in the canoe, and the barnacles upon the piles were nearly covered with the water. He doubted if the patrol could follow him. Should he remain secreted? No. They might light a torch and discover him. Noiselessly he paddled amid the piles to the farther side of the wharf, and then glided from its shelter along the shore, screened from the patrol by the projecting timbers, and was once more in the stream. He could no longer be guided by the tide or drift with it. The wind had died away. It was blowing from the east when he started, but now only by waving his hand could he ascertain its direction. Whether it had changed he could not know. It was a welcome sound that came to his ears--the clock on the Old Brick Meetinghouse striking the hour. He thought of Ruth, asleep in her white-curtained chamber so near the bell, and of her goodness, her brave heart, that bade him go. The tones came to him over his right shoulder, when they ought to be over the left. He must be headed in the wrong direction. It was not easy for him to reason it out; yet, if he would reach Cambridge, he must turn squarely round. It was plain that he had not made much progress. He knew that several warships and floating batteries and picket boats must be lying between his position and the Americans, but he must go on. Suddenly a dark object loomed before him, and a hail as before came from the deck of a ship.

"Come alongside, or I'll fire."

What should he do? He saw a blinding flash. A bullet whizzed over his head, and the report of the musket awoke the echoes along the shore. It was from the stern of the ship. Again, a flash from the bow, and a bullet pattered into the water. Suddenly the light of a torch brought into full view a marine holding it over the side of the vessel. Another marine by his side was reloading his musket. A thought came--they had opened fire upon him; why not pay them in the same coin. Dropping the paddle, he raised the musket he had wrenched from the sentinel. The torch revealed the form of him who held it,--a man with weather-beaten features, hard and cold. He was so near that it would be easy to send a bullet through his heart. Should he do it? Why not? Had he not been down to death's door through brutal treatment from the redcoats? Why not take revenge? No, he could not quench life forever, bring sorrow, perchance, to some household far away; but he would put out that torch. He ran his eye along the gun-barrel, pulled the trigger, and sent the bullet through the upraised arm. The torch fell into the water, and all was dark.

"We are attacked! Beat to quarters," was the shout on the ship.

He heard the roll of drums. Men leaped from their hammocks. There was hurrying of feet, rattling of ropes, and shouting of orders. Again a musket flashed and a bullet pierced the canoe, reminding him he was near enough to the ship to be seen. A few strokes of the paddle and he was beyond their aim. Suddenly he discovered the canoe was filling with water through the hole made by the bullet. Several minutes passed before he could find it, in the darkness; the canoe gradually sinking the while. When found, at last, he thrust in his finger and reflected what next to do. It was plain that the leak must be stopped, but how? He could not sit with his finger in the hole and drift wherever the tide might take him. Removing his finger, he would soon be sinking.

"Ah! I have it," he said to himself. It was but the work of a moment to cut a bit of rope from the coil at his feet and thrust it into the opening, stopping the leak.

But the canoe was water-logged; how should he get rid of it? To scoop out with the paddle would attract attention and bring the whole patrol to the spot; there was a better way.

"I'll use my hat for a bucket," he said to himself.

He bailed the canoe and reloaded the musket, drifting the while. Where he was he could not determine. Suddenly a musket flashed, high up in the air, and a bullet fell into the water by his side. He could see the faint outline of topmasts and yard-arms, and the figure of a man upon the shrouds. He aimed as best he could and pulled the trigger.

"I'm shot!" were the words that came to him through the mist.

"Give 'em the six-pounder with grape," said a voice, followed by a blinding flash, a swish in the water, the roar of a cannon. It had been fired at random, and he was unharmed. Once more he used the paddle, wondering what next would happen.

What the meaning of that flash in the distance? What that plunge in the water not far away? What that deep, heavy roar reverberating along the shore? Surely it must be a shot from General Washington's cannon. And now all around he heard voices, and boatswains' whistles. Soon the great guns of the warships were flashing; shot were plunging into the water, and shells bursting in the air.

"I have kicked up a big racket," said Robert to himself as he listened to the uproar.

What should he do? The tide was beginning to ebb. Why not go with it down the harbor, reach one of the islands, wait till daylight, and then shape his course, instead of attempting to pass the pickets patrolling the river with everybody on the alert. While the cannon were flashing he drifted with the ebbing tide. Another dark object suddenly loomed before him, but no hail came from its deck. Plainly it was one of the transports. Another, and still no hail. The cannonade was dying away; suddenly, bells all around him were striking. He must be in the midst of the fleet of transports; it was four o'clock, the hour to change the watch. He heard once more the bell of the Old Brick,--he could tell it by its pitch. Wind, tide, and the meetinghouse bell enabled him to calculate his position: he could not be far from the Castle; he resolved to make for Dorchester Heights.

Day was breaking and the fog lifting. In the dawning light he shaped his course. No patrol challenged him. Through the rising mist he discerned the outline of the shore and heard the gentle ripple of waves upon the beach. To leave the canoe was like bidding good-by to a faithful friend, but with cartridge-box and musket he stepped ashore and soon found himself upon the spot which he had scanned with the telescope from the Brandon home.

It was plain that he had not miscalculated its value as a military position,--that cannon planted there could plunge their balls upon the great fleet of transports, or upon a vessel attempting to enter or depart from the harbor. He descended the western slope of the hill, reached a narrow path leading across the marsh land, and made his way to Roxbury, to be warmly welcomed by General Nathanael Greene.

"You must tell General Washington about Dorchester Heights. I am going to dine with him to-day, and you must go with me," said General Greene, who informed Robert that Lieutenant Robert Walden was supposed to have been killed about the same time that Doctor Warren fell.

"But I am here and ready to give an account of myself," Robert replied.

It was a pleasure to be in the saddle once more,--to ride with General Greene along the works which his troops had constructed. They dismounted at the house of Mr. Vassall in Cambridge, where General Washington had established his headquarters. The commander-in-chief was pleased to welcome him and listen to his story.

"I think, General Washington, that if cannon could be planted there the British fleet could be driven from the harbor. It is a high hill and very commanding. Troops ascending it would do so in the face of a plunging fire from those on the summit. It occurred to me while standing there, that if hogsheads were to be filled with stones and sent rolling upon an assaulting force, it would be an effective means of defense."

"You must dine with me to-day, Lieutenant Walden. I want Colonel Knox, who commands the artillery, and who is to be here with his estimable wife, to hear what you have to say."

It was a pleasure to meet Colonel Henry Knox and Mrs. Knox.

"We all thought you went down in the mêlée at Bunker Hill, and yet here you are," said Colonel Knox.

"Yes, and ready to do what I can to drive the redcoats into the sea."

Mrs. Knox was delighted to hear from her old-time associate, Berinthia Brandon. She said that Tom was giving a good account of himself. There were tears in the eyes of all when he told them how Miss Ruth Newville had used her influence, she the daughter of a Tory, to save him.

"That is the noblest type of womanhood," said General Washington. "Perhaps," he added, "you may wish to visit your parents for a few days, but a little later I shall desire you to assist Colonel Knox in executing an important trust."

"I am ready to do what I can in any capacity for which I am fitted," Robert replied.

* * * * *

A flag of truce went out from the headquarters; among the letters to people in Boston was one directed to Miss Ruth Newville. The red-coated officer who inspected the letters read but one word.

"Safe."

To her who received it the one syllable was more than a page of foolscap.

XXII.

BRAVE OF HEART.

The king's plan to punish Boston because the East India Company's tea had been destroyed was not working very satisfactorily. Ten thousand troops were cooped up in the town with little to eat. They could obtain no fresh provisions. Lord North was sending many ships, and the ship-owners were asking high prices for the use of their vessels; for the Yankee skippers of Marblehead, Captain Manly and Captain Mugford, were darting out from that port in swift-sailing schooners, with long eighteen-pounders amidships, and the decks swarming with men who had braved the storms of the Atlantic and knew no fear, capturing the ships dispatched from England with food and supplies for the army. The ministers had paid twenty-two thousand pounds for cabbages, potatoes, and turnips; as much more for hay, oats, and beans; half a million pounds for flour, beef, and pork. They purchased five thousand oxen, fourteen thousand sheep, and thousands of pigs, that the army three thousand miles away might have something to eat. There were plenty of cattle, sheep, and pigs within fifty miles of Boston, but General Howe could not lay his hand on one of them. The winter storms were on, and the ships sailing down the Thames or from Bristol Channel had a hard time of it before losing sight of the hills of Devon. The people along the Cornwall shores beheld the seashore strewn with carcasses of cattle, sheep, and pigs, tossed overboard from the decks of foundering vessels. The few cattle that survived the six weeks' tossing on the sea were but skin and bones when the ships dropped anchor by Castle William.

In contrast, Tom Brandon and the soldiers under General Washington had plenty of good food. It was a tantalizing handbill which Benjamin Edes printed on his press at Watertown.

Tom Brandon, on picket at Charlestown Neck, hailed the Britisher a few rods distant.

"How are you, redcoat?"

"How are you, rebel?"

"Say, redcoat, if you won't pop at me, I won't at you."

"Agreed."

"Wouldn't ye like a chaw of tobacco, redcoat?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"All right. Here's a plug with my compliments; 'tain't poisoned. Ye needn't be afraid of it," said Tom, tossing it to him.

The Britisher opened the paper and read:--

_American Army._ _English Army._

1. Seven dollars a month. 1. Three pence a day.
2. Fresh provisions in plenty. 2. Rotten salt pork.
3. Health. 3. The scurvy.
4. Freedom, ease, affluence, 4. Slavery, beggary, and want.
and a good farm.

Other pickets besides Tom were tossing the handbills to the Britishers. Abraham Duncan, going here and there along the streets, saw the redcoats reading them, and night after night soldiers disappeared, never again to shoulder a musket in the service of the king.

Shut up in the town with nothing to do, the troops became lawless, breaking into houses and plundering the people. In vain were the efforts of General Howe, by severe punishments, to prevent it; giving one soldier four hundred lashes on his bare back; another six hundred; hanging a third.

Hard times had come to the people of Boston. In the autumn, General Howe had issued a proclamation, threatening with execution any one who should attempt to steal away from the town without his consent; but now he would gladly have them go, only they must obtain permission. He could not supply them with food, neither with fuel. He gave the soldiers leave to rip the boards from the Old North Meetinghouse, and cut its timbers into kindlings. After much hacking they leveled the Liberty Tree, not only to obtain the wood, but to manifest their hatred of the tree. Not being able to feed the people, he sent three hundred and fifty from the town, landing them at Point Shirley, to make their way over the marshes to Lynn as best they could. Others were directed to go.

"We shall not go. I do not propose to let the redcoats make themselves at home in this house," said Berinthia to the sergeant who asked if the family would like to leave the town.

"What will you live on? Butcher Thurbal, whom General Howe has appointed to take charge of all the cattle, says he has but six left, and here it is December, with winter only just begun. You will starve before spring," the sergeant replied.

"We have a little flour, and there is a bit of mackerel; a layer of pork is still left in the barrel. We will not go till the last mouthful of food is gone," Berinthia said resolutely.

The knocker rattled.

"One of Massa Genral Howe's ossifers," said Mark Antony.

A young lieutenant entered; but seeing a fair-faced young lady he removed his cap.

"I would like to see the mistress of the house," he said.

"I am mistress. What is it you wish?"

"I come to inform you that Colonel Hardman desires to occupy these premises for himself and staff, of which I have the honor to be a member. I am directed to inform you that you can have twenty-four hours to effect your removal."[75]

[Footnote 75: Under date of September 13, 1776, is the following from the letter of Reverend Andrew Eliot to S. Eliot: "Every house is now taken as the officers please. General Clinton is in Mr. Hancock's, Burgoyne in Mr. Bowdoin's."]

"Colonel Hardman desires to take our house, does he?"

"That is his wish."

"Has he ordered you to take possession of it for him?"

"No, he has directed me to inform you of what he intends to do, that you may make preparations at once for your removal."

"You will please say to Colonel Hardman that we cannot accede to his wish."

It was said with such firmness and quiet dignity that the lieutenant was amazed. He waited to hear some reason why she would not comply with the demand. She stood silent before him, composedly looking him in the face. Not being able to find words to reply, the lieutenant bowed stiffly and departed.

"You haven't got through with Colonel Hardman," said Abraham. "He likes the looks of this house, evidently. He is a new officer just arrived."

"He will find that an American girl can make some resistance to force," Berinthia replied.

Once more the knocker rattled, and the lieutenant entered.

"I believe I have the honor to address Miss Brandon," he said, bowing.

"That is my name."

"I am extremely sorry, Miss Brandon, to be obliged to execute an order of this kind, but I am directed by Colonel Hardman to take possession of these premises, as you will see by this order," he said, handing her a paper.

"By what right does Colonel Hardman seize these premises?"

"Well, really--I suppose--because you are a--a rebel, you know," the lieutenant replied.

"How does he know that I am a rebel?"

"I don't mean exactly that. Of course, you are not in arms personally against his majesty, King George, but then, the people are, you know."

"You mean, that because the king's troops began a war, firing upon the people at Lexington and Concord, your colonel proposes to turn me, my invalid father and mother, out of our home, that he may take possession and live in comfort."

"It is awfully bad business, Miss Brandon, but I can't help it, you know."

"I do not doubt, sir, that it is mortifying to you, personally, to be compelled to execute an order of this sort. Please say to Colonel Hardman that this is our home, and we shall not leave it voluntarily. If he desires to occupy it, he will do so only by force of arms."

The lieutenant took his hat, not knowing what to make of a young lady so calm and self-possessed, who did not cry or wring her hands.

"Oh, Ruth, you are just the one I want to see," said Berinthia, as Miss Newville entered a few minutes later. "Just look at this! Colonel Hardman proposes to turn us out of doors, that he may take possession of our home."

"Aren't you going to protest?"

"I have protested."

"Aren't you going to do something?"

"What can I do?"

"We will see. General Howe is to dine with us this afternoon, and I have come to get you to help me entertain him and the others. We will ask him what he thinks of such arbitrary action on the part of his subordinate officer."

"I will be there to hear what he has to say," Berinthia said.

The hard times and the want of fresh provisions ruffled the temper of Phillis in the Newville kitchen. No longer could she baste a fat turkey roasting by the fire, or a joint of juicy beef, and yet the dinner she was preparing for his excellency General Howe, and Mr. Newville's other guests, was very appetizing,--oysters raw and fried, clam soup, broiled halibut, fresh mackerel, corned beef and pork, plum-pudding and pie.

Lord William Howe, commander-in-chief of his majesty's forces in America, was a gentleman, polite, affable, who delighted to make himself agreeable to beautiful ladies. At Bunker Hill he had shown the army that he could be brave on the battlefield. The other guests were Brigadier-General Timothy Ruggles, appointed commander of the militia, loyal to the king, and Captain John Coffin of his staff. General Howe solicited the honor of escorting Miss Newville to the dinner-table; Captain Coffin, possibly preferring the society of the girl with whom he often had romped to that of the mother, offered his arm to Berinthia, leaving to General Ruggles the honor of escorting the hostess.

"The state of the times," said Mr. Newville, "does not enable me to provide an elaborate repast, but Phillis has done her best with what she had."

"I am sure your dinner will be far more elaborate than anything I have upon my own table," said General Howe. "There being no fresh provisions in the market, I have to put up with salt junk."

"Do you think the present scarcity of food will continue long?" Ruth inquired.

"I trust not. It will be some time before the government supplies reach me from England, but I have dispatched vessels to Halifax and the West Indies, which, with fair winds, ought to be here in the course of a week."

"It is tantalizing to know there are abundant supplies of vegetables in the farmers' cellars, not twenty miles away, that droves of cattle and sheep come to Mr. Washington, and we cannot get a joint of mutton or a cabbage," said Mr. Newville.

"If the provincial pirates do not intercept the vessels, we shall have fresh provisions soon; but they are a daring set of rebels who live down towards Cape Ann. A schooner darted out the other day from Marblehead, and captured the brig Nancy and a rich cargo which I could ill afford to lose,--two thousand muskets, one hundred thousand flints, thirty thousand cannon-balls, and thirty tons of musket-balls, and a thirteen-inch mortar. I understand Mr. Washington is greatly elated by the capture, as well he may be."

"Cannot Admiral Graves protect the transports?" Mr. Newville asked.

"Perhaps a little more enterprise on the part of the marine force would be commendable. The provincials, I must admit, show far greater zeal than is seen in the king's navy."

"It is commonly remarked that the navy is not doing much," said General Ruggles.

"The army, although it is not marching into the country, is far more active, judging from the firing which I hear through the day," Berinthia remarked.

General Howe scanned her face, wondering if there was not a trifle of sarcasm in the words. He knew he was being criticised by the Tories for his inactivity; that Admiral Graves and the officers of the navy were asking when the army was going to scatter Mr. Washington's rabble.

"I was relying upon the muskets captured in the Nancy," said General Howe, "to supply the gentlemen in General Robertson's command; also the loyal Irish Volunteers under Captain Forest, and the Fencibles under Colonel Graham, and those whom Colonel Creen Brush, a loyalist from New York, expects to raise. I am greatly gratified by this exhibition of loyalty on the part of the citizens. Doubtless other vessels will soon be here with arms, provided that audacious Captain Manly does not slip out from Marblehead and nab them while the warships are getting up their anchors. I have sent several ships along the shore to obtain supplies if possible, but it seems the madness of the people in revolting against our gracious sovereign is widespread. I learn there are many who are still loyal, but who do not dare to sell provisions through fear of their neighbors."

"I do not doubt it," General Ruggles remarked. "If it were not for the presence of the troops, we who are loyal would have a rough time. Even as it is, I see scowls upon the faces of my old-time friends whenever I go along the street."

"Since I accompanied your excellency to Bunker Hill and manifested my loyalty," said Captain Coffin, "and especially since I have taken part in organizing the loyal citizens to aid in upholding the government, I find some of my former friends, notably some of the young ladies, shutting their doors in my face."

"I suppose you can hardly wonder at it?" Ruth remarked.

"Why should they? I have not changed. Everybody knows how I have stood from the beginning," the captain replied.

"It is not that Captain Coffin is not as agreeable and entertaining as ever, but they regard the king as attempting to deprive the people of their rights and liberties; the appeal to arms has been made; if you actively support his majesty, do you not cut yourself off from their society? Can you expect them to be as gracious as in former days?" said Berinthia.

"Perhaps not, from the standpoint you have taken; but it is rather uncomfortable to have a young lady who has welcomed you to her fireside pass you by on the street as if you were a cold-blooded villain."

"It comes to this," said Ruth. "One cannot be loyal to the king, neither to liberty, without suffering for it. Miss Brandon's brother Tom had to give up his lady-love because he sided with the provincials. Young ladies shut the door in Captain Coffin's face because he adheres to King George. If his majesty only knew the disturbance he is making over here in love affairs, perhaps he would withdraw the army."

"Of course he would," exclaimed General Howe. "I don't believe that side of the question has ever been laid before him. I am sure, Miss Newville, if you were to go as special envoy and present the case, showing him how the sword is cutting young heartstrings asunder, he would at once issue an order for us to pack up and be off, that the course of true love might run smoothly once more."

The company laughed heartily.

"Perhaps," continued General Howe, "we may have to pack up any way, for want of something to eat. Before I succeeded to the command, General Gage seriously thought of evacuating the town, but had not enough vessels to transport the troops. I could not, when I was invested with the command, send a portion away; to do so would invite an attack upon those remaining."

Berinthia saw a startled look upon Mr. Newville's face.

"Do you think, your excellency, the time will ever come when his majesty's troops will take their departure?"

"I trust not; but this rebellion, which we thought would be confined to this Province, has become a continental question. Neither the king nor his ministers anticipated it, but it is upon us, and we shall be obliged to treat it in all its vastness. Large reinforcements are to be sent. An agreement is being made to employ several thousand Hessian troops, and everything will be done to put down the rebellion."

"I expect to see," said General Ruggles, "the army of Mr. Washington crumble to pieces very soon. I hear that the Connecticut troops demanded a bounty as the condition of their staying any longer, and when it was refused, broke ranks and started for their homes."

"So I am informed," General Howe remarked, "though, to tell the truth, two thousand fresh men came from the New Hampshire province to take their places. I must say the provincials, thus far, have shown commendable zeal and persistence in maintaining the rebellion. They have constructed formidable earthworks on Cobble Hill, so near my lines that they have compelled the warships to drop down the river to a safer anchorage."

"If by any chance the town should be evacuated, what think you, your excellency, those of us who are loyal to the king ought to do?" Mr. Newville asked.

"That is really a very difficult question to answer. Your loyalty and that of all ladies and gentlemen who stand by the king undoubtedly will make you obnoxious to the rebels. The bitterness is increasing. I fear you will not be shown much leniency."

"Would you think it strange, your excellency, if they were not lenient?" Ruth inquired.

"Why should they not be, Miss Newville?"

"Would they not be likely to regard those who support the king as their enemies?"

"Why should they? You have not taken up arms. Of course, General Ruggles and Captain Coffin might be regarded as obnoxious, and would have to take care of themselves."

"But will they not say we have given moral support to their enemies, and is not moral support likely to be as heinous in their sight as the taking of arms? If we ask them to be lenient, will they not inquire if the king's troops were merciful when they set Charlestown on fire?" Ruth asked.

A flush came upon the face of General Howe. Although he commanded the troops at Bunker Hill, he had not ordered the burning of the town. General Gage was responsible for that act. He felt a little uncomfortable over the question, for the latest newspapers from London told him the people of England condemned the destruction of the homes of so many inhabitants.

"I am free to say it was rather hard on them thus to have their homes destroyed without a moment's notice," he replied.

"Will not," Ruth inquired, "the provincials think his majesty's forces were wanting in leniency when they recall what was done at Falmouth a few days ago, where the inhabitants were given only two hours to remove from the town? Not one minute over that would Captain Mowatt grant them, though women went down on their knees before him. Was it not inhuman for him to fire bombs among the panic-stricken multitude, setting the buildings on fire, destroying the homes of five hundred people? If his majesty's officers do these things, what may we not expect from the provincials, should it ever come our turn?"

"We will do what we can, Miss Newville, not to have it your turn."

"I do not doubt it, my lord; but I was thinking of possible contingencies."

Again Berinthia noticed a flush upon the face of General Howe.

"I will admit, Miss Newville, that in war, the unexpected may sometimes happen, and possibilities are not comforting subjects for contemplation. I do not anticipate disaster to the troops under my command."

"Shall we drink the health of our gracious sovereign?" said Mr. Newville.

The others drained their glasses, but Miss Newville's and Berinthia's were not lifted from the table.

"What, daughter! What is the meaning of this? Not drink the health of the king!" Mr. Newville exclaimed.

"No, father. I could drink to his own personal welfare, wish him health, happiness, and long life, but our drinking to the sentiment means approval of his government. I cannot do that. I never can think it right to burn the homes of innocent people without a moment's warning, as was done at Charlestown. The people of Falmouth never had done anything against the king except to prevent Captain Mowatt from loading masts and spars on board his ship for the use of the king's navy. That was their offense, and yet the town was wantonly destroyed. I cannot think such a course is likely to restore the alienated affections of the people to the king. More, I fear the contingencies of war may yet compel us to suffer because of these unwarranted acts."

Mr. Newville sat in silence, not knowing what to say. He had been outspoken in his loyalty. He never had contemplated the possibility of failure on the part of the king to put down the rebellion, but if General Howe were to evacuate Boston, what treatment could he expect from the provincials? The words of Ruth brought the question before him in a startling way.

"Those are my sentiments, also," said Berinthia.

"I see, Miss Brandon, that you are of the same opinion, which, of course, I expected in your case, but hardly from Miss Newville," said Captain Coffin.

"Yes, I am of the same way of thinking," Berinthia replied.

"You will not, ladies, decline to drink the health of the queen, I trust?" said General Howe, as Pompey refilled the glasses.

"Oh no, I will drink it with pleasure. The queen, of course, does not stand for mismanagement, as does the king, and we will not spoil our dinner by talking about the sad events," Ruth replied.

General Howe entertained them with an account of his boyhood days, his service with General Wolfe at Quebec, how the troops climbed the steep river bank at night and won the battle on the Plains of Abraham. Captain Coffin laughed with Berinthia and Ruth over good times he had enjoyed with them. Yet all were conscious that spectres unseen had come to the banquet. The ghost confronting General Howe was whispering of starvation, of possible humiliation through forced evacuation; the one glaring at Mr. and Mrs. Newville told of a possible departure from their home, to become aliens in a foreign land.

"May I ask Miss Newville to favor us with music?" said General Howe, when they were once more in the parlor.

"With pleasure, your excellency," said Ruth, seating herself at the harpsichord and singing "The Frog he would a-wooing go," "The Fine Old English Gentleman," and then with a pathos that brought tears to the eyes of the commander-in-chief, "True Love can ne'er forget."

During the dinner, and while Ruth was singing, they could hear the deep reverberations of the cannonade. The provincials in Roxbury were sending their shot at General Howe's fortifications on the Neck, and his cannon in reply were thundering towards the works at Cobble Hill.

"Miss Newville," said General Howe, "I cannot express my thanks to you for your entertainment. While listening to your charming melodies I have been thinking of the strange, incongruous accompaniment, the uproar of the cannonade, but I have, in a measure, been able to forget for the moment the worries and perplexities that surround me. I trust I may be able to do something to add to your happiness some day." He rose to take his departure.

"Thank you, your excellency; I am glad if I have been able in any way to make it a pleasant hour to you and General Ruggles, and my old acquaintance, Captain Coffin. Your excellency can add much to my happiness and that of Miss Brandon. One of your subordinate officers, who I think has not been long here, Colonel Hardman, has notified Miss Brandon that he is going to take possession of her home to-morrow and turn her and her invalid parents out of doors. Berinthia, you have the colonel's order, I think?"[76]

[Footnote 76: "I am by a cruel necessity turned out of my home; must leave my books and all I possess, perhaps to be destroyed by a licentious soldiery." Andrew Eliot to Thomas Hollis, _Proceedings Mass. Hist. Society_, vol. xvi.]

Berinthia took the document from her pocket and handed it to General Howe, who ran his eye over it and seemed to be thinking.

"Is your father loyal to the king, Miss Brandon?" he asked.

"In the same sense that I am, your excellency. You know that I did not drink the health of the king because I protest against the course he is pursuing towards the Colonies; my father does the same."

"You have a brother, I think, in the provincial army?"

"I suppose that Tom is there. He did what he could to defeat your excellency at Bunker Hill. Possibly it was his bullet that went through your excellency's coat. He attempted to defeat the king's troops just as they attempted to defeat him, and succeeded. You give your allegiance to the king; he gives his to liberty, and is fighting for it just as conscientiously as your excellency is fighting for King George and the crown."

"As your father sides with the provincials, and as your brother is in arms against our most gracious sovereign, may I ask if you can give any good reason why my subordinate officer should not take possession of your home?"

"Pardon me, may I ask if your excellency will kindly favor me with any good reason why my parents should be driven from their beds in midwinter, that one of the king's officers may have comfortable quarters? Does your excellency think such a course of conduct will tend to restore to the king the alienated affections of his late subjects?"

"Then, Miss Brandon, you do not consider yourself, at this moment, one of his subjects?"

"I do not. I cannot own allegiance to a sovereign who burns the homes of an inoffensive community, standing for their rights and ancient liberties."

"I admire your frankness, Miss Brandon, as I do that of Miss Newville. Have you a pen at hand?"

Ruth brought a pen and ink-horn; General Howe wrote upon the document, and handed it to her.

"I cannot go back on my promise to do something for you, Miss Newville, to add to your happiness and Miss Brandon's, and I trust I never shall do anything that will lead you to think I am insensible to the claims of humanity," he said, bowing and taking his departure.

Berinthia read what he had written:--

It is hereby ordered by the general-in-chief commanding his
majesty's forces, that Miss Brandon shall be allowed to
remain in possession of her home till this order shall be
countermanded.

HOWE, Major-General.

In bright uniform, with stars upon his breast, Colonel Hardman, accompanied by the members of his staff, knocked at the door of the Brandon home. Mark Antony was unceremoniously pushed aside, and the officers entered the hall.

"You can inform the lady of the house, nigger, that Colonel Hardman and staff have come to take possession of the premises and"--

The sentence was not finished, for Berinthia, queenly in her dignity, stood before him. Colonel Hardman, obedient to etiquette, removed his hat. It was not an old woman, wrinkled and toothless, but a young lady, calm and self-possessed, confronting him.

"Is this Colonel Hardman?"

"I have the honor to bear that name, lady."

"You have come to take possession of my house?"

"That is my errand. I trust it will not greatly inconvenience you. I see you have my order of yesterday in your hand, and so are not unprepared for my coming."

"It is your order, and I am not unprepared, as you will see," she said, handing him the paper.

He read the writing, bit his lips, grew red in the face, returned the document, bowed stiffly, and left the hall, followed by his astonished suite.

"Outwitted by a petticoat," he muttered, with an oath, as he passed down the street.

XXIII.

SUNDERING OF HEARTSTRINGS.

It was as if one had risen from the dead, when Robert Walden once more entered the old home. Father, mother, Rachel, all, had thought of him as lying in a grave unknown,--having given his life for liberty. It was a joyful home. All the town came to shake hands with him. His father and mother were older, the gray hairs upon their brows more plentiful, and sorrow had left its mark on Rachel's face; but her countenance was beautiful in its cheerful serenity.

A few days at home, and Robert was once more with the army, commissioned as major upon the staff of General Washington. Colonel Knox the while was transporting the cannon captured by Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga across the Berkshire Hills to Cambridge--fifty guns mounted on sleds, drawn by one hundred oxen.

The commander of the army had not forgotten what Major Walden had said about the military value of Dorchester Heights. The cannon were placed in position, but not till winter was nearly over were the preparations completed for the bombardment of Boston.

When the sun set on the afternoon of March 2d little did Lord Howe and the ten thousand British soldiers imagine what was about to happen. Suddenly from the highlands of Roxbury, from Cobble Hill, from floating batteries in Charles River, cannon-balls were hurled upon the town. Bombs exploded in the streets; one in a guardhouse, wounding six soldiers. The redcoats sprang to their guns, to give shot for shot. Little sleep could the people get, through the long wearisome Saturday night. During Sunday the lips of the cannon were silent, but with the coming of night again they thundered. General Howe was wondering what Mr. Washington was intending to do, not mistrusting there was a long line of ox-carts loaded with picks and spades, bales of hay, and casks filled with stones; the teamsters waiting till Major Walden should give a signal for them to move.

While the cannon were flashing, General Thomas, with two thousand men, marched across the marshes along Dorchester Bay and up the hill overlooking the harbor. Major Walden gave the signal, and the farmers started their teams,--those with picks, and spades, and casks following the soldiers; those with hay halting on the marsh land, unloading, and piling the bales in a line so as to screen the passage. Major Walden, General Rufus Putnam, and Colonel Gridley hastened to the summit of the hill in advance of the troops. Colonel Gridley marked the lines for a fortification; the soldiers stacked their arms, seized picks and spades, and broke the frozen earth. The moon was at its full. From the hill, the soldiers could look down upon the harbor and see the warships and great fleet of transports, with masts and yard-arms outlined in the refulgent light. Robert expected to see a cannon flash upon the Scarborough, the nearest battleship; but the sentinel pacing the deck heard no sound of delving pick or shovel. Walden piloted the carts to the top of the hill, and placed the casks in such position that they could be set rolling down the steep at a moment's notice. The soldiers chuckled at the thought of the commotion they would make in the ranks of the redcoats, were they to make an assault and suddenly see the casks rolling and tumbling, sweeping all before them!

General Howe was astonished, when daylight dawned, to see an embankment of yellow earth crowning the hill overlooking the harbor.