Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times Part 42

Soon flames were bursting from window, doorway, and roof. The wind, blowing from the south, carried sparks and cinders to the adjoining houses, glowing in the summer heat. A wail of horror from the people rent the air.

"That is mean, cruel, wicked, dastardly!" exclaimed Ruth, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "It's inhuman. I shall hate the man who has ordered it."[72]

[Footnote 72: The only defense of the British for the destruction of Charlestown is the a.s.sertion that the advancing troops were fired upon by provincials secreted in one of the houses on the outskirts of the town.]

Through the previous stages of the conflict no word of approval or disapproval had escaped her lips.

"Ruth! Ruth! Don't say that!" Mr. Newville cried, astonished by such an outburst of indignation.

"If General Gage were here I would say it to his face. What have those people done that their homes should be destroyed? They are not fighting the battle. Does he think that by burning the town he will frighten those men in the redoubt into submission? Were I one of them, I would die before I would surrender."

Her eyes were flas.h.i.+ng. In her earnestness she had removed her hat.

The gentle breeze was fanning her heated brow. She stood erect, a queen in her dignity and beauty. Never had Mr. and Mrs. Newville dreamed that there was such pent-up fire in her soul, such energy, fearlessness, and instinctive comprehension of justice and right.

Captain and Mrs. Brandon, Berinthia, and all around gazed upon her wonderingly and with admiration.

The fire was sweeping on,--leaping from building to building, licking up houses, stables, and workshop, reaching the meetinghouse, kindling the s.h.i.+ngles on its roof, the clapboards upon its walls, bursting from doors and windows, climbing the spire to the gilded vane, burning till beams and timbers gave way; then came the crash,--a single stroke of the bell tolling as it were a requiem.

Under the cloud from the burning town the scarlet lines once more advanced,--not towards the screen of hay, but in the direction of the redoubt. With the gla.s.s Ruth saw the manly figure she had seen before, seemingly receiving instructions from his superior officer, and running towards the threatened point of attack. The scarlet lines were mounting the breastwork. Men were firing in each other's faces; thrusting with the bayonet. She could see a stalwart provincial in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves beat out the brains of a Britisher with the b.u.t.t of his musket, and the next moment go down with a bayonet through his heart.

The manly figure was in the thick of the melee,--a half dozen redcoats rus.h.i.+ng upon him. His sword was flas.h.i.+ng in the sunlight as he parried their bayonets, keeping them at bay. Guns flashed, and the white powder-cloud shut out the scene. When it cleared, he had gone down, and the redcoats were swinging their hats. Their shout of victory came across the waters. Those around saw Ruth clasp her hand upon her heart.

"They are beaten, and he is shot!" she cried, sinking into Berinthia's arms.

"Who's shot?" her mother asked. There was no answer from the quivering lips.

"The excitement is too much for her," said Mrs. Newville, as they bore her to Berinthia's chamber.

XX.

WHEN THE TIDE WAS GOING OUT.

Tom Brandon, lying upon the green gra.s.s where the provincials had halted after the retreat, recalled the events of the day with his fellow soldiers, especially the last struggle. He had fired away his powder, as had many others. He had no bayonet, and could only defend himself with the b.u.t.t of his gun. He remembered how bravely Doctor Warren behaved, telling the men to keep cool; how he took bandages from his pockets, and bound up the wounds of those disabled at the beginning; how a Britisher shot him down and stabbed him with a bayonet. As for himself, he hardly knew what he did, except to fight till almost the last of his comrades left the redoubt, when he leaped over the breastwork, and walked towards the British, approaching the western side as if to give himself up, then turned and ran as fast as he could, with the bullets whizzing past him.[73] He wondered if Lieutenant Walden had escaped unharmed. He walked a little way to Colonel Stark's regiment to inquire.

[Footnote 73: The experience of Tom Brandon was that of Eliakim Walker of Tewksbury, Ma.s.s., as narrated by him to the author:--

"I had fired away nearly all my powder before the last attack. I fired and was reloading my gun, when I heard a hurrah behind me. I looked round and saw the redcoats leaping over the breastwork. I saw a man beat out the brains of a Britisher with the b.u.t.t of his gun; the next moment they stabbed him. Seeing I couldn't get out that way, I jumped over the breastwork and ran towards Pigot's men, a rod or two, then turned and ran as fast as I could the other way. The bullets whizzed past me, or struck the ground around me. I reached a rail fence, and pitched over it. A bullet struck a rail at the moment. I fell on the other side, laid still till I got my breath, then up and legged it again, and got away."]

"I fear," said Captain Daniel Moore, "that Lieutenant Walden has been killed. During the day he took a conspicuous part. He was sent by General Ward to summon us from Medford. He carried several messages from Colonel Stark to Prescott and Putnam, and was with the men of his company at times. He was with us just before the last a.s.sault, and hastened towards the redoubt a moment before the redcoats swarmed over it. I fear the worst, for he was very brave."

The people of Boston never had beheld such a scene as that of the day following the battle. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, but its rays fell upon the smouldering ruins of once happy homes; upon dying and dead soldiers; upon men groaning in agony as they were transported across the Charles to houses taken for hospitals. The wounded rebels--thirty-six in number--were laid upon the bare floor of the jail. They were to be treated as felons, and given prison fare.

Although the genial rays of the sun shone into the s.p.a.cious apartments of the Province House, they gave no comfort to Thomas Gage, commander-in-chief of his majesty's forces in the Colonies. He was chagrined over the outcome of the battle, the losses sustained. His own officers were criticising the plan of attack. The soldiers said he had slaughtered their comrades. The people were condemning him for having burned Charlestown. He was conscious that he had gone down in the estimation of those who had given him loyal support. He knew that his military reputation had suffered an eclipse. Women were denouncing him as cruel and inhuman. The conviction came to General Gage that he was shut up in Boston, and that any attempt upon the position of the rebels at that point, or upon the hills beyond Charlestown, would result in disaster.

It was cheering news to Tom Brandon and all the soldiers of the provincial army, a few days later, to learn that Congress, sitting in Philadelphia, had selected George Was.h.i.+ngton of Virginia to command them. His coming was evidence that all the Colonies had united to resist the aggressions of the king. He fought bravely to drive the French from the valley of the Ohio, and saved the army in the battle near Fort Du Quesne. General Gage had been with him in that engagement, but now they would command opposing armies.

It was a beautiful summer morning, the 3d of July, when the regiments in Cambridge and some of the troops from Roxbury a.s.sembled on the Common at Cambridge to receive General Was.h.i.+ngton. Tom Brandon saw a tall, broad-shouldered man, sitting erect on a white horse, wearing a blue uniform trimmed with buff, accompanied by General Putnam, General Ward, and a large number of officers, ride out from General Ward's headquarters and take position under a great elm-tree.

"Attention, the army!" shouted General Ward.

The officers repeated it, and every soldier stood erect.

"Salute your commander, Major-General George Was.h.i.+ngton!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Where Was.h.i.+ngton a.s.sumed Command.]

The soldiers presented arms, the fifes began to play, the drums to rattle. General Was.h.i.+ngton lifted his hat, bowed right and left, drew his sword from its scabbard, and rode along the line. The soldiers saw dignity, decision, and energy, yet calmness, in all his movements.

They knew he had a great plantation on the bank of the Potomac River in Virginia; that he could live at ease and enjoy life in hunting and fis.h.i.+ng at his own pleasure, but he had left all at the call of Congress to take command of the army. His coming gave them confidence and made them more than ever determined to drive the redcoats out of Boston. They kept such a strict guard that the British could not obtain fresh provisions, neither could the inhabitants of the town. In the home of Captain Brandon, the only meat to be had was the salt pork and beef in the cellar, or the flounders caught by Mark Antony, fis.h.i.+ng from the wharves.

Even General Gage could have no great variety of food. In contrast to this, Tom Brandon and his fellow soldiers were living luxuriously, having fresh beef three times a week, with flour, peas, beans, rice, potatoes, onions, cabbages, turnips, beets, spruce beer, and grog, and plenty of tobacco.

Tom took his turn standing guard, and found pleasure in chaffing the lobsters on picket, telling them what he had for dinner. A thought came to him,--to write a letter and hire a redcoat to take it to his father. He wrote about the battle; how he saw the family on the roof of the house, from the redoubt, just before it began; how he escaped; how Robert Walden went down in the thick of the fight and probably had been buried with the others somewhere on Bunker Hill. The Britisher gladly agreed to take the letter to Copp's Hill for the plug of tobacco which Tom gave him.

Mark Antony, the following afternoon, wondered what the soldier who was rattling the knocker on the front door might want.

"Here's a letter for your master, Captain Brandon. One of the rebs gave it to me. Maybe it's from his son," said the soldier.

"A letter from Ma.s.sa Tom," shouted the negro, dancing into the sitting-room.

Captain Brandon thanked the soldier, and told Mark Antony to mix a toddy for him.

It was gratifying to know that Tom was safe, but sad the information that Lieutenant Walden was numbered among the killed.

The fair brow of Ruth Newville through the summer months had been growing whiter day by day.

"I fear she is not well," said Mr. Newville.

"The battle, the burning of Charlestown,--the terrible spectacle was too much for her nerves," Mrs. Newville replied.

"Ought we not to call in the doctor?"

"No, she is not sick; you know how sympathetic she is. Don't you remember what she said when she saw the town in flames,--even speaking disrespectfully of General Gage, and swooning when the king's troops won the victory. The burning of so many houses has unstrung her nerves. I trust she will soon get over it. Since the battle she has spent most of her time in her chamber and has pleaded indisposition when gentlemen, especially officers, have called."

"Miss Ruth wants you to come up de stairs to her chamber," said Pompey, when Berinthia called at the Newville home to show her the letter Tom had written.

"So you have heard from Tom?"

"Yes, and he says that Robert Walden was killed at the very last of the battle."

"It is as I said. I saw him go down and their feet trample him in the dust!"

"Was it Robert you saw?"

"Yes. With the telescope I had seen him all through the battle, walking unharmed where the bullets were flying thickest."