Washington’s Headquarters.Washington’s Headquarters.
“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 theface 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 directedto 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.
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 orfrom 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,and a good farm.4. Slavery, beggary, and want.
Other pickets besides Tom were tossing the handbillsto 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, whomGeneral 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]
“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 begana 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 provisionsruffled 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 governmentsupplies 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 therewas 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, haveshown 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. GeneralGage 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]
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.
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.
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 2dlittle 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 warshipsand 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.
“The rebels have done more in a night than my army would have done in a month,” he said, after looking at the works with his telescope. What should he do? Mr. Washington’s cannon would soon be sending shot and shell upon the warships, the transports, and the town. The provincials must be driven from the spot at once; otherwise, there could be no safety for the fleet, neither for his army. He called his officers together in council.
“We must drive the rebels just as we did at Bunker Hill, or they will drive us out of the town. There is nothing else to be done,” said General Clinton.
General Howe agreed with him. A battle must be fought, and the sooner the better. Every moment saw the fortifications growing stronger. But what would be the outcome of a battle? Could he embark his army in boats, land at the foot of the hill, climbthe steep ascent, and drive the rebels with the bayonet? At Bunker Hill there was only a rabble,—regiments without a commander; but now Mr. Washington was in command; his troops were in a measure disciplined. That he was energetic, far-seeing, and calculating, he could not doubt. Had he not transported heavy cannon across the country from Lake Champlain to bombard the town? Evidently Mr. Washington was a man who could bide his time. Such men were not likely to leave anything at haphazard. One third of those assaulting Bunker Hill had been cut down by the fire of the rebels. Could he hope for any less a sacrifice of his army in attacking a more formidable position, with the rebels more securely intrenched? It was not pleasant to contemplate the possible result, but an assault must be made.
From the housetop, Berinthia saw boats from the vessels in the harbor, gathering at Long Wharf. Drums were beating, troops marching. Abraham Duncan came with the information that four or five thousand men were to assault the works and drive the provincials pell-mell across the marshes to Roxbury. At any rate, that was the plan. He was sure it would be a bloody battle. Possibly, while General Howe was engaged at Dorchester Heights, Mr. Washington might be doing something else.
Neither General Howe nor any one within the British lines knew just what the provincial commander had planned,—that the moment the redcoats began the attack, General Israel Putnam, on Cobble Hill, between Charlestown and Cambridge, with four thousand men, would leap into boats, cross theCharles, and land on the Common; that General Nathanael Greene with a large force would advance from Roxbury, and together they would grind the British to powder, like corn in a mill.
It was mid-forenoon when Major Walden escorted General Washington across the marsh land and along the path to Dorchester Heights. The troops swung their hats and gave a cheer when they saw their commander ascending the hill. He lifted his hat, and thanked them for having constructed such strong intrenchments in so short a time.
“It is the fifth of March,” he said, “and I am sure you will remember it is the anniversary of the massacre of the Sons of Liberty.”
In Boston drums were beating, regiments marching; but suddenly the wind, which had blown from the west, changed to the east; and the sea waves were rolling up the bay, making it impossible for the Somerset, Scarborough, Boyne, and the other ships, to spread their sails and take position to bombard the works of the rebels; neither could General Howe embark the troops upon the dancing boats. The clouds were hanging low, and rain falling. Not till the wind changed and the sea calmed could there be a battle; General Howe must wait.
Night came; the rain was still pouring. The provincials wrapped their overcoats closely around them, kindled fires, ate their bread and beef, told stories, sang songs, and kept ward and watch through the dreary hours.
Morning dawned; the wind was still east, and thewaves rolling in from the sea. With gloom upon his brow, General Howe with his telescope examined the fortifications. Could he hope to capture them? Doubtful. Exasperating, humiliating, the reflection that Mr. Washington was in a position to compel him to evacuate the town. Only a few days before, he had written Lord Dartmouth he was in no danger from the rebels; he only wished Mr. Washington would have the audacity to make a movement against him; but now he must pack up and be off, give up what he had held so long, and confess defeat. What would the king say? What the people of England? He did not like to think of what had come. But he must save the army. What of the citizens who had maintained their loyalty to the king? Should he leave them to the tender mercies of the exasperated provincials whose homes had been burned? He could not do that. If Theodore Newville, Nathaniel Coffin, or any of the thousand or more wealthy citizens were willing to remain loyal, if they were ready to become aliens and fugitives and exiles, he must do what he could for them.
“What is it, husband?” Mrs. Newville asked as Mr. Newville entered his house, and she beheld his countenance, white, haggard, and woe-begone.
“What has happened, father?” Ruth asked, leading him, trembling and tottering, to his chair.
“It has come,” he gasped, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands.
“What has come?” Mrs. Newville inquired.
“The end of the king’s authority in this town.”
“What do you mean?”
“The army is going, and we have got to go.”
“Go where?”
“I don’t know; only we have got to leave this home, never to see it again, and be aliens the rest of our lives,” he said, groaning and sobbing.
“Why must the army go?” Mrs. Newville exclaimed.
“Because General Howe cannot stay. The provincials are in a position to sink his ships and set the town on fire with their bombs.”
“Can’t General Howe drive Mr. Washington from the hill just as he did at Charlestown?”
“He was going to do it yesterday, but the sea wouldn’t let him, and now it is too late.”
“He must do it, and I will go and tell him so. Leave our home and become wanderers and vagabonds? Never!” she cried with flashing eyes.
“It is decided. Orders have been issued. The fear is that the provincials may open fire upon the fleet and sink the ships before the army can get away.”
“Why didn’t General Howe take possession of the hill, and prevent the provincials from doing it?”
“The Lord knows, and perhaps General Howe does, but I don’t. I have seen for some time what might happen, and now we have it. We have got to go, and God help us.”
Mrs. Newville, overwhelmed, tottered to a chair.
“So this is what Sam Adams and John Hancock have done. I hate them. But why must we go? Why not stay? We have as good a right to stay as they. Give up our home? Never! Never!”
With flashing eyes, and teeth set firmly together,she rose, and took a step or two as if ready to confront a foe.
“We cannot stay,” said Mr. Newville. “We have given our allegiance to the king; I have held office under the crown, and the Great and General Court will confiscate my estate, and we shall be beggars. More than that, I probably shall be seized and thrown into jail. There’s no knowing what they will do. Possibly my lifeless body may yet dangle from the gallows, where murderers have paid the penalty of their crimes.”
Mrs. Newville wrung her hands, and gave way to sobs and moans. Ruth had stood a silent spectator, but sat down now by her mother, put an arm around her, and wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks.
“I haven’t told you all,” said Mr. Newville. “General Howe threatens to burn the town if Mr. Washington opens fire upon the ships.”
“General Howe threatens that?” exclaimed Mrs. Newville.
“Yes; John Scollay and several of us have asked General Robertson to intercede with Howe. He has done so, but Howe will make no promise. He has permitted a flag of truce to go out to Mr. Washington to let him know if the British are molested he will set the town on fire. If Mr. Washington is the kind-hearted man they say he is, probably he will not make an attack. He wants to compel Howe to get out and to have the town spared. We are not the only ones who will suffer, but everybody who has stood for the king will have to go or take the consequenceswhen the provincials march in. They will be implacable in their retaliation for the burning of Charlestown and Falmouth, and for the destruction of the Old North Meetinghouse, the desecration of the Old South, and the pulling down of hundreds of houses. They will confiscate the property of every one who has adhered to the crown, and make them beggars, or send them out of the Province, or perhaps do both. We may as well look the matter squarely in the face, for we have got to face it.”
It was spoken with quivering lips. Several vessels had been designated on which the friends of the king might embark for Halifax, the only port near at hand where they could find refuge. He looked around the room, gazed mournfully at the portraits of his ancestors on the walls, at the rich mahogany furniture, the mirrors above the mantel reflecting the scene. In the dining-room was the buffet with its rich furnishings. Upon the stairs was the clock, its pendulum swinging as it had swung since the days of his boyhood. Upon the sideboard were the tea-urns used on many convivial afternoons and evenings. Whichever way he turned he saw that which had contributed to his ease, comfort, and happiness. Looking out of the window, he saw the buds were beginning to swell upon the trees under the genial rays of the sun. The bluebirds and robins had arrived and were singing in the garden. A few more days and the grass would be springing fresh and green, the asparagus throwing up its shoots, the cherry-trees white with blooms, the lilacs and roses perfuming the air; but never again was he to sit beneath the vine-clad arboras he had sat in former years, listening to Nature’s symphony rehearsed by singing birds; never again was he to see the coming of ecstatic life in bud and blossom. He must bid farewell forever to all the enchanting scenes, pull up by the roots, as it were, all cherished things. What should he take? What leave behind? There would be little room on shipboard for the richly carved mahogany chairs, sideboard, sofa, portraits of his ancestors. What use would he have for them in exile? How dispose of them? Who would purchase them? No one. How would he live in a foreign land? How occupy his time? His mansion was his own; he was possessor of other houses and lands, but all would be seized. He could take his silver plate, his gold and silver coin; not much else.
“Oh dear! oh dear! has it come to this!” Mrs. Newville exclaimed, “when we might have been far away, having everything heart could wish!”
She cast a reproachful look upon Ruth.
“Oh, if you had only done as I wanted!”
A gentle hand wiped the tears from the mother’s face.
“Mother, dear, the past is gone, never to return. If it were to come again, bringing Lord Upperton, my answer to him would be as it was. We will let that pass. I know your every thought has been for my welfare and happiness. I trust I have not been ungrateful for all you have done for me and for all you thought to do. I have not seen things as you have seen them. You have been loyal to King George; you could hardly do otherwise with fatherholding an office under the crown. I have given my sympathies to the provincials, because I believe they are standing for what is right. My heart has gone out to one who, I doubt not, is over on yonder hill in arms against the king. I know the greatness of his love, that he will be always true to me, as I shall be to him.”
The hand was still wiping away the tears; she was sitting between her father and mother, and laid the other hand upon the father’s palm.
“Through these winter nights, dear father and mother, while hearing the cannon and the bursting shells, I have been looking forward to this hour which has come at last.”
Tears stood in her eyes, and her voice became tremulous.
“We have come to the parting hour. You will go, but I shall stay,—stay to save the house, so that, by and by, when the heat of passion has cooled, and the fire of hate is only ashes, when the war is over and peace has come, as come it will, you can return to the old home.”
“Leave you behind, Ruth!”
“Yes, mother.”
“To be insulted and abused by the hateful rebels! Never!”
“I shall not be insulted. I am sure I shall be kindly treated. Do you think my old friends will do anything to annoy me? Why should they, when they know that I myself am a rebel? Mr. Sam Adams has always been my good friend. Have I not sat in his lap in my girlhood? Are not Lucy Flucker Knox, Dorothy Quincy, and Abigail Smith Adams myfriends? Has not Mr. John Hancock danced with me? Have I done anything that should cause them to turn against me? Pompey and Phillis will be here to care for me. And now, dear father, I have one or two requests to make. This is your house, but I want you to give it to me,—make out a deed and execute it in my name; and one thing more, I want you to give me a bill of sale of Pompey and Phillis, so that I shall be absolute mistress here. When the Colonies, by their valor and the righteousness of their cause, have become independent of the king, when the last cannon has been fired, in God’s good time you will come back and find me here in the old home.”
Mr. Newville sat in silence a moment, then put his arm around her and drew her to him.
“Oh Ruth, daughter, you are dearer to me this moment than ever before. Your clear vision has seen what I have not been able to see,—till now,—the possible end of this conflict. The provincials are stronger than I supposed them to be, the disaffection wider, and the king is weaker than I thought. It never seemed possible that an army of ten thousand men could be forced to evacuate this town, but so it is, and I must go. I will not be so selfish as to ask you to go. I know your love has gone out to Robert Walden. I have no right to ask you to thrust a sword into your own loving heart. I do not doubt he will protect you with all the strength of a noble manhood. This house shall be yours, together with Pompey and Phillis, who will be as dutiful to you as they have been to your mother and me. You speak of our coming back, but when we once leave this house we never shallbehold it again; nor shall we ever look again upon your face unless you come where we may be. Where that will be, God only knows; we shall be fugitives and wanderers without a home. Your mother and I will not long need an earthly home. Such a wound as this goes down deep into our souls, Ruth.”
He could say no more, but hid his face in his hands to hide the agony of a breaking heart.
“Father, have you forgotten who it is that feeds the ravens and cares for the sparrows? Will He not care for you? Of one thing you may be sure, so soon as it is possible to do so I shall seek you wherever you may be: and now we will prepare for your going.”
She kissed the tears from his face, cheered the desponding mother, and began to select whatever would most contribute to their comfort.
Abraham Duncan, as he walked the streets, beheld men with haggard faces and women wringing their hands and giving way to lamentations. In their loyalty to the king, they never had dreamed that the provincials could compel a disciplined army to quit the town. They had been informed that with the opening of spring the rebels would be scattered to the winds. In their loyalty they had organized themselves into militia and received arms from General Howe to fight for King George. As by a lightning flash all had been changed. Those who had thus organized knew they would be despised by the provincials and hardly dealt with; that houses and lands would be seized and sold to make restitution for the burning of Charlestown and buildings torn down inBoston. They who had lived in affluence, who had delightful homes on the slopes of Beacon Hill, must leave them. All dear old things must be sacrificed and family ties ruthlessly sundered. Fathers had sons whose sympathies were with the provincials; mothers, other than Mrs. Newville, had daughters whose true loves were marshaled under flags floating on Dorchester Heights. Had not Colonel Henry Knox sighted the cannon which sent the ball whirling towards the early home of his loving wife, the home where her father and mother and sisters were still living, which they must leave? The sword drawn on Lexington Common was severing tender heartstrings.
There was a hurly-burly in the streets,—drums beating, soldiers marching, a rumbling of cannon and wagons, the removal of furniture. Eleven hundred men and women were preparing to bid farewell to their native land and homes.
The final hour came. Pompey had seen the trunks and boxes safely stowed upon the ship in which Mr. and Mrs. Newville, Nathaniel Coffin, the king’s receiver-general, and Thomas Flucker were to find passage. With a cane to steady his tottering steps, Mr. Newville took a last look of the home where his life had been passed; the house in which his eyes first saw the light; where a mother, many years in her grave, had caressed him; where a father had guided his toddling steps; the home to which he had brought his bride in the bloom of a beautiful maidenhood; where Ruth had come to them as the blessing of God to make the house resound with prattle and laughter,and fill it with the sunlight of her presence; make it attractive by her grace and beauty,—the soul beauty that looked out from loving eyes and became, as it were, a benediction. He was to go, she to stay. God above would be her guardian.
Mrs. Newville walked as in a daze from parlor to chamber, from dining-room to hall and kitchen. Was she awake or dreaming? Must she leave her home,—the home that had been so blissful, so hospitable? Was she never again to welcome a guest to that table, never hear the merry chatter of voices in parlor or garden? Oh, if Sam Adams and John Hancock had only been content to let things go on as they always had gone! If Ruth had only accepted Lord Upperton’s suit! Why couldn’t she? What ought she to take, what would she most need? What sort of accommodations would they find at Halifax? Why couldn’t Ruth go with them? It was the questioning of a mind stunned by the sudden stroke; of a spirit all but crushed by the terrible calamity.
“I have put in everything I could think of that will in any way make you comfortable, mother dear,” said Ruth, mentioning the articles.
“I’ve put up some jelly and jam for ye, missus,” said Phillis.
Berinthia Brandon and Abraham Duncan came to bid them farewell, and to help Ruth prepare for their departure.
It was Ruth’s strong arm that upheld her mother as they slowly walked the street on their way to the ship. It was a mournful spectacle. Not they alone, but Mr. Shrimpton and Mary, Nathaniel Coffin andwife and John, and a hundred of Ruth’s acquaintances were on the wharf preparing to go on board the ships.
“This is what has come from Sam Adams’s meddling,” said Mr. Shrimpton. “May the Devil take him and John Hancock. They ought to be hanged, and I hope King George will yet have a chance to string ’em up—curse ’em! I’d like to see ’em dangling from the gibbet, and the crows picking their bones,” he said, smiting his fists together, walking to and fro.
He was bidding farewell to home,—to the house in which he was born. He had farms in the county, wide reaches of woodland, fields, and pastures. The provincials would confiscate them. In his declining years all his property was to slip through his fingers, and he was to totter in penury to his grave.
“I shall enlist in the service of the king and fight ’em,” said John Coffin, who had shown his loyalty by accompanying General Howe to the battle of Bunker Hill.
“And I hope you’ll have a chance to put a bullet through the carcass of Sam Adams,” said Mr. Shrimpton.
It was his daughter’s hand that guided him over the gang-plank to the deck of the Queen Charlotte.
“Let me put this muffler round your neck; the air is chill and you are shivering,” said Mary, gently leading him.
With chattering teeth and curses on his lips for those whom he regarded as authors of his misfortunes, Abel Shrimpton, led by his daughter, descended the winding stairs to the cabin of the ship.
“Here are the rugs and shawls, mother, and hereis the wolf-skin, father, to wrap around you,” said Ruth.
They were in the stifling cabin, the departing loyalists sitting as in a daze, stupefied, stunned by the sudden calamity, wondering if it were not a horrid dream.
To Mary Shrimpton and Ruth Newville it was no phantom, no hallucination, but a reality, an exigency, demanding calm reflection, wise judgment, and prompt, decisive action. They had talked it over,—each in the other’s confidence.
“You must go and I will stay; you will care for them all; I will look after things here. This war will not last always. You will all come back some time,” said Ruth, her abiding faith rising supreme above the agony of the parting.
“I will care for them,” had been the calm reply of Mary.
“Oh, missus! I can’t bear to have ye go, you’s been good to me always. I’se packed a luncheon for ye,” said Phillis, kneeling upon the floor, clasping the knees of her departing mistress, crying and sobbing.
“Oh, massa and missus, old Pomp can’t tell ye how good ye’ve been to him. He’ll be good to Miss Ruth. He’ll pray for de good Lord to bless ye, every night, as he always has,”—the benediction of the slave kneeling by Phillis’s side.
Long and tender was the last embrace of the mother and daughter,—of the father and his beloved child. With tears blinding her eyes, with tottering steps, Ruth passed across the gang-plank. A sailor drewit in, and unloosed the cable. The vessel swung with the tide from its moorings, the jib and mainsail filled with the breeze, and glided away. The weeping crowd upon its deck saw Ruth standing upon the wharf, her countenance serene, pure, and peaceful, with tears upon her face, gazing at the receding ship. Those around her beheld her steady herself against the post which had held the cable, standing there till the Queen Charlotte was but a white speck dotting the landscape in the lower harbor, then walking with faltering steps to her desolate home.
“Here, Miss Ruth, I has a cordial for ye. Drink it, honey,” said Phillis as Ruth sank into a chair.
“Don’t be down-hearted, Miss Ruth; old Pomp will take keer of ye.”
“I do not doubt it. You and Phillis have always been good to me, and now I have something to say to both of you. Would you like to be free, Pompey?”
“Would I like to be free, Miss Ruth?” the negro asked, hardly knowing what to make of the question.
“Yes, would you like to be free, to own yourself, to come and go as you please?”
“’Deed I would, Miss Ruth. Massa and missus was always very good to old Pomp, but ’pears I would like to be myself.”
She rose and took Pompey and Phillis by their hands.
“Your old master has given you both to me, and now I give you to yourselves. You are both free now and forever,” said Ruth.
“Free! Miss Ruth! Did you say we is free?”
“Yes, you are no longer slaves; you can go and come, now and always; you are your own.”
“Oh, Miss Ruth, old Pomp never will leave ye,never. Old Pomp free! ’Pears like de New Jerusalem has come,” said the negro, sinking upon his knees, kissing her hand and bathing it with tears.
“Oh, Miss Ruth, honey, I has held ye in my arms when ye was a little baby, toted ye in de garding when de flowers was bloomin’, rocked ye to sleep when ye was pinin’; I’ve seen ye grow to be a woman, and now ye is my missus tellin’ me I’m free. I’ll cook de chicken and de johnny-cake for ye till I can’t cook no more,” said Phillis, clasping Ruth in her arms, with tears rolling down her cheeks and laughter bubbling from her lips.
The foresight that had seen the probable departure of the British troops was forecasting the immediate future; that the interval before the arrival of General Washington’s army would be one of peril, from vagabonds, camp-followers, and the ragamuffins enlisted by Creen Brush, commissioned by General Howe to organize a battalion of Tories. Through the day the British regiments were sullenly taking their departure. Pompey informed Ruth that the vagabonds had begun to plunder the stores and break into houses.
“Dey won’t git into dis yeer house, honey. I’se got de water b’ilin’ hot in de kitchen for ’em,” said Phillis.
Ruth did not doubt a mansion like hers would attract the villains, and determined to defend herself against all intruders. General Howe was going on shipboard; no longer would she recognize his authority or that of any subordinate officer. Years before, her father had been member of a battalion of horsemen. The pistols he carried then were in a closet. Pompey brought them, fixed the flints, oiled the locks, and found a horn of powder, but no bullets.
“Perhaps it is just as well, Pompey, for if I were to have a bullet, I might kill somebody, and I would not like to do that,” she said.
“If ye are goin’ to shoot, better shoot to kill, Miss Ruth,” said Pompey.
“I never have fired a pistol, Pompey; how do you do it?”
“I’ll show ye, missus,” said the negro, putting some powder in the pan and cocking the pistol.
“Now, Miss Ruth, you jes’ pull de trigger and it will flash.”
They were in the kitchen. Ruth pointed the weapon toward the fireplace and pulled the trigger. There was a flash and a bang.
“O Lord! Missus!” shouted Phillis, dropping on the floor.
“’Pears, Miss Ruth, like she’s been loaded all dese years,” said Pompey, his eyeballs rolling in astonishment.
“It appears I have found out how to fire,” said Ruth, laughing. “But how do you load it?” she asked.
Pompey poured a charge of powder into his hand, emptied it into the barrel, and rammed it down with a wad of paper.
“We haven’t any bullets, but we can use gravel-stones or dried peas or a tallow candle. I’ve seen a candle fired right through a board, Miss Ruth,” he said.
“We’ll load them with powder now; perhaps we shan’t need anything else,” Ruth replied.
In the gathering darkness Phillis saw a redcoat reconnoitringthe grounds. He rapped upon the door leading to the kitchen. She did not unloose the chain, but opened it sufficiently wide to talk with the fellow.
“What d’ye want?” she asked.
“I want to come in.”
“What d’ye want to come in for?”
“To see if ye have anything belonging to the king. People have seized the king’s property and taken it into their houses.”
“We haven’t anything belonging to King George.”
“Open the door or I’ll break it down.”
“Go away. Dere can’t no lobster come into dis yeer kitchen,” said Phillis, attempting to close the door. But she saw the muzzle of a gun thrust into the opening. Her hands grasped it. One vigorous pull and it was hers, and the villain was fleeing.
“I’se got it! I’se got de villin’s gun. Wid de pistils, de musket, and de b’ilin’ water we’ll fight ’em!” she shouted.
Ruth, keeping watch, saw a squad of men. One of them rattled the knocker.
“What do you wish?” she asked, raising a window.
“I am commissioned to search for property belonging to the crown.”
“Who are you?”
“I am a lieutenant in the command of Colonel Brush.”
“I do not recognize your authority, neither that of Colonel Brush nor General Howe, who has taken his departure.”
“I shall be under the necessity of entering by force if you do not open the door.”
“You will do so at your peril.”
“Break down the door, men!”
The soldiers pounded with the butts of their muskets, but the panels did not yield.
“Smash a window!”
A bayonet was thrust through a pane, and the glass rattled to the ground; the butt of a musket smashed the sash, and a pair of hands grasped the window-sill. Memory recalled a day when two soldiers assaulted her; from that hour a redcoat had been hateful. She seized one of the pistols. Remembering what Pompey had said, she picked the lighted candle from its socket and thrust it into the weapon. The ruffian was astride the window-sill. There was a flash, a loud report, and he dropped with a thud to the ground.
From the balcony came a flood of boiling water upon the astonished ruffians.
“I’ll give it to ye, b’ilin’ hot!” shouted Phillis. The ruffians saw the muzzle of a gun pointed towards them from the window, and the stalwart form of Pompey as he raised it to take aim. The astonished villains fled, leaving Ruth, Pompey, and Phillis victors in the encounter.
Morning dawned fair and beautiful. The robins and bluebirds were singing in the garden. Ruth heard again the beating of drums, the blast of bugles. General Washington was entering the town. By his side rode Major Robert Walden.
What surprise! A white handkerchief was waving from the balcony of the Newville home. She was there, more beautiful and queenly than ever before!Not an alien, not an exile, but loyal to liberty, to him! He must leap from his saddle and clasp her in his arms! No. He must accompany his great commander in the triumphal entry. That accomplished, then the unspeakable joy.
There came an evening when the Newville home was aglow with lights, and Pompey was bowing low to General and Mrs. Washington, Generals Greene, Putnam, Thomas, to colonels, majors, captains, councilors, the selectmen of the town, Reverend Doctor Cooper, Colonel Henry and Lucy Knox, Captain and Mrs. Brandon, Berinthia, Abraham Duncan, Major Tom Brandon, Rachel Walden; young ladies in the bloom of maidenhood, matronly mothers, fathers resolute of countenance,—all rejoicing that the redcoats were gone.