XVII.
BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA.
Roger Stanley, asleep in the old farmhouse on the banks of ConcordRiver, was aroused from slumber by his mother.
"Roger! Roger! the meetinghouse bell is ringing!" she shouted up thestairs to him.
With a bound he was on his feet, raised the window and heard thesweet-toned bell. He understood its meaning, that the redcoats werecoming. Quickly putting on his clothes, he seized the powder-horn andbullet-pouch which his father carried at Louisburg.
"You must eat something, Roger, before you go," said his mother.
A moment later and his breakfast was on the table, bread and butter, aslice of cold beef, a mug of cider.
"There's no knowing when I shall be back, mother, for if the war hasbegun, as I fear it has, I shall be in the ranks till the last redcoatis driven from the country."
"I know it, Roger. Your father would have done just what you aredoing. I know you'll do your duty. You won't show the white feather.Here's some lunch for you," she said, putting a package into hisknapsack.
"Good-by."
ROBERT MUNROE'S HOUSE Joseph Comee, a minute-man, waswounded at the doorway]
Her arms were about his neck; tears were on her cheeks as she kissedhis lips.
Route of the British to Concord.]
He ran across the meadow to the village. The minute-men and militiawere gathering. In the stillness of the morning they could hear thereport of guns far away, and knew that they of Sudbury and Acton werehearing the alarm. People were hurrying to and fro in the village,loading barrels of flour into carts, removing the supplies purchasedby the Committee of Safety. Reverend Mr. Emerson was there with hisgun and powder-horn. Many times Roger had listened to his preaching.It was gratifying to see him ready to stand in the ranks with hisparishioners. He told the women not to be frightened, and smiled uponthe boys who took off their hats, and the girls who courtesied to him.
They heard, far away, the drumbeat of the advancing British.
No messengers had arrived to inform the minute-men of Concord what hadhappened at Lexington; for Doctor Prescott did not know that Britishmuskets had fired a fatal volley.
From the burial ground Roger could look far down the road and see thesunlight glinting from the bayonets of the grenadiers, as thered-coated platoons emerged from the woodland into the open highway.
Major Buttrick with the minute-men and Colonel Barrett with themilitia formed in line by the liberty pole.
"Prime and load!" his order.
Roger poured the powder into the palm of his hand, emptied it into thegun, and rammed it home with a ball. Never had he experienced such asensation as at the moment. He was not doing it to take aim at a deeror fox, but to send it through the heart of a fellow-being if need be;to maintain justice and liberty. He could die in their defense; whyshould it trouble him, then, to think of shooting those who wereassailing what he held so dear?
"I am doing right. Liberty shall live, cost what it may," he said tohimself as he poured the priming into the pan.
On in serried ranks came the British.
"We are too few, they are three to our one. We must cross the riverand wait till we are stronger," said Colonel Barrett.
REVEREND WILLIAM EMERSON'S HOUSE--THE OLD MANSE Theconflict at the Bridge was in plain view from this house]
They were only two hundred. They filed into the road, marched pastthe Reverend Mr. Emerson's house to the north bridge, crossed theriver, and came to a halt on a hill overlooking the meadows, thevillage, and surrounding country. They could see the Britishdividing,--one party crossing the south bridge and going towardsColonel Barrett's house to destroy the supplies collected there;another party advancing to the north bridge. Roger saw groups ofofficers in the graveyard using their spy-glasses. A soldier wascutting down the liberty pole. Other soldiers were entering houses,helping themselves to what food was left on the breakfast-tables orin the pantries. Colonel Smith and Major Pitcairn rested themselvesin Mr. Wright's tavern.
"I'll stir the Yankee blood before night, just as I stir this brandy,"said Pitcairn, stirring the spirit in his tumbler with his finger.
A party of British crossed the south bridge, made their way to ColonelBarrett's house, and burned the cannon carriages stored in his barn.
Roger was glad to see Captain Isaac Davis and the minute-men of Actonmarch up the hill to join them. Captain Davis was thirty years old. Hehad kissed his young wife and four children good-by.
"Take good care of the children, Hannah," he said as he bade herfarewell.
Twice a week he had drilled his company. He was brave, resolute,kind-hearted. His men loved him because he demanded strict obedience.They had stopped long enough at his home for his young wife to powdertheir hair, that they might appear neat and trim like gentlemen whenmeeting the British. They were thirty-five, all told. Keeping step toLuther Blanchard's fifing of the White Cockade, and Francis Barker'sdrumming, they marched past the men from Concord and formed on theirleft.
THE WHITE COCKADE.]
WRIGHT'S TAVERN]
"Order arms!" They rested their muskets on the ground and wiped theperspiration from their foreheads.
Men from Westford, Lincoln, and Carlisle are arriving. They are fourhundred now. The officers stand apart, talking in low tones. Theredcoats had crossed the bridge to the western bank.
"Let us drive the redcoats across the river," said Captain Smith.
"I haven't a man that is afraid," said Captain Davis.
He was heavy-hearted in the early morning when he kissed the youngwife and took the baby from the cradle in his arms, but is resolutenow.
"Attention, battalion! Trail arms! Left in front! March!" LutherBlanchard pipes the tune, and the battalion--the men of Actonleading--descends the hill.
The redcoats had recrossed the river and were taking up the planks ofthe bridge. A moment later muskets flash beneath the elms, and maplesalong the farthest bank and there is a whistling of bullets in theair. Roger's heart is in his throat, but he gulps it down. Anothervolley, and Captain Davis, Abner Hosmer, and Luther Blanchard reel tothe ground. Never again will Hannah receive a parting kiss, or thefather caress the baby crooning in the cradle.[61]
[Footnote 61: "The fire soon began from a dropping shot on our side,when they and the front company fired almost at the same instant.""Diary of a British Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_, April, 1877.]
"Fire! For God's sake, fire!" shouts Major Buttrick. Roger cocks hisgun, takes aim at the line of scarlet beneath the trees and pulls thetrigger. Through the smoke he sees men throw up their arms and tumbleto the ground. The scarlet line dissolves, the soldiers fleeing inconfusion. No longer is Roger's heart in his throat. His nerves areiron and the hot blood is coursing through his veins. King George hasbegun the war; no longer is he his subject, but a rebel, never more toowe him allegiance.
* * * * *
The forenoon wore away. The British were returning from ColonelBarrett's, having destroyed the cannon carriages, thrown some bulletsinto a well, and broken open several barrels of flour. It was pastnoon when they formed in line once more to return to Boston.
"We will head them off at Merriam's Corner," said Colonel Barrett.
The planks which the British had removed from the bridge were quicklyreplaced. The minute-men crossed the stream, turned into a field tothe left, and hastened over the meadow to the road leading to Bedford.It was past three o'clock when they reached Mr. Merriam's house. Rogersaw the British marching down the road. Suddenly a platoon wheeledtowards the minute-men and brought their guns to a level. There was aflash, a white cloud, and bullets whistled over their heads. Once morehe took aim, as did others, and several redcoats fell. Before he couldreload, the serried ranks disappeared, marching rapidly towardsLexington. The minute-men hastened on, and at the tavern of Mr. Brookshe sent another bullet into the ranks of the retreating foe.[62]
[Footnote 62: "We set out upon our return. Before the whole hadquitt
ed the town we were fired on from houses and behind trees, andbefore we had gone half a mile we were fired on from all sides, butmostly from the rear, where the people had hid themselves in housestill we passed." "Diary of a British Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_,April, 1877.]
NORTH BRIDGE The minute-men stood under the trees atthe right; the British, the other side of the river]
"Scatter now! Get upon their flank! Pepper 'em from behind walls andtrees!" shouted Colonel Barrett, who saw that it would be useless tofollow the retreating enemy in battalion order, but each man, actingfor himself, could run through fields and pastures and keep up atormenting fire.
Acting upon the order, Roger and James Heywood ran through a piece ofwoods towards Fiske Hill. They came upon a British soldier drinking ata well by a house.
"You are a dead man," shouted the redcoat, raising his gun.
"So are you," said Heywood. Their muskets flashed and both fell, theBritisher with a bullet through his heart, and Heywood mortallywounded.
From rock heap, tree, fence, and thicket the guns of the minute-menwere flashing. The soldiers who had marched so proudly, keeping stepto the drumbeat in the morning, were running now. No hurrah went up asat sunrise on Lexington Common. There was no halting at Buckman'stavern, where they had fired their first volley. Their ranks were inconfusion. Officers were trying to rally them, threatening to cut themdown with their swords if they did not show a bold front to theminute-men, but the Yankees seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere.Bullets were coming from every direction, yet the British could see nomen in line, no ranks at which they could take aim or charge with thebayonet. They were still twelve miles from Boston, and theirammunition failing. They were worn and weary with the all-night march,and were hungry and thirsty. The road was strewn with their fallencomrades. The wounded were increasing in number, impeding theirretreat. Their ranks were broken. All was confusion. Every moment someone was falling.[63] Blessed the sight that greeted them,--the brigadeof Earl Percy, drawn up in hollow square by Mr. Munroe's tavern, withtwo cannon upon the hillocks by the roadside. They rushed into thesquare and dropped upon the ground, panting and exhausted with theirrapid retreat.
[Footnote 63: "They were so concealed there was hardly any seeingthem. In this way we marched between nine and ten miles, their numbersincreasing from all parts, while ours was reducing by deaths, wounds,and fatigue, and we were totally surrounded with such an incessantfire as it is impossible to conceive. Our ammunition was likewise nearexpended." "Diary of a British Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_, April,1877.]
Roger halted a few minutes on Lexington Green, where the conflictbegan in the morning. He saw the ground stained with the blood ofthose who had fallen,--crossed the threshold where Jonathan Harringtonhad died in the arms of his wife. Across the Common the house and barnof Joseph Loring were in flames, set on fire by the British.
Earl Percy's troops were ransacking the houses a little farther downthe road. In Mr. Munroe's tavern they were compelling old John Raymondto bring them food, and because he could not give them what theywanted, sent a bullet through his heart.[64]
[Footnote 64: "We marched pretty quiet for about two miles, when theybegan to pepper us again. We were now obliged to force almost everyhouse in the road, for the rebels had taken possession of them andgalled us exceedingly; but they suffered for their temerity, _for allthat were found in the houses were put to death._" "Diary of aBritish Officer," _Atlantic Monthly_, April, 1877.
Earl Percy made the tavern of Mr. Munroe his headquarters.
"A party entered the tavern and, helping themselves, or rathercompelling the inmates of the house to help them to whatever theywanted, they treacherously and with ruthlessness shot down JohnRaymond, an infirm old man, only because he, alarmed at this roughnessand brutal conduct, was about leaving the house to seek a place ofgreater safety." Hudson's _Hist. of Lexington_.]
MERRIAM'S CORNER]
Once more the British were on the march.
Roger, rested and invigorated, ran through a pasture, crouched behinda bowlder, rested his gun upon it, and sent a bullet into the ranks.He was delighted when Doctor Joseph Warren came galloping over thehill. The doctor said he left Boston in the morning, rode to Cambridgeand Watertown, then hastened on to Lexington. He was glad theminute-men and militia had resisted the British. While talking withRoger and those around him, a bullet whizzed past the doctor's head,knocking a pin from his ear-lock.
The rattling fire of the minute-men was increasing oncemore,--answered by volleys from Percy's platoons. The British,smarting under the tormenting fusilade, angry over the thought thatthey were being assailed by a rabble of farmers and were on thedefensive, became wanton and barbaric, pillaging houses, and murderinginoffensive old men.
Roger was delighted to hear from Jonathan Loring, one of the Lexingtonminute-men, how his sister Lydia, fearing that the British would stealthe communion cups and platters belonging to the church of which herfather was deacon, took them in her apron, ran out into the orchard,and hid them under a pile of brush.
Pitiful it was to see Widow Mulliken's house in flames,--wantonly seton fire by the red-coated ruffians.
Roger saw a soldier deliberately raise his gun, take aim, and send abullet through the heart of Jason Russel, an old gray-haired man,standing in his own door. Again, at closer range, he took aim at theretreating column.
His indignation was aroused as he listened to the story told by HannahAdams, a few minutes later. She was in bed in her chamber, with anew-born babe at her breast, when two redcoats entered the room. Onepointed his musket at her.
"For the Lord's sake, do not kill me," she said.
"I am going to shoot you," the soldier replied, with an oath.
"No, you mustn't shoot a woman," said the other, pushing aside thegun, "but we are going to set the house on fire, and you must getout."
With the babe in her arms, she crawled downstairs and into the yard.
The soldiers scattered the coals from the fireplace around the room,and left, but the older children ran in and put out the flames.
MUNROE TAVERN Lord Percy's headquarters]
At Mr. Cooper's tavern was a ghastly sight; upon the floor lay themangled bodies of Jason Wyman and Jesse Winship, two old men, who hadcome from their homes to learn the news. They were drinking toddy,when the head of Earl Percy's retreating troops arrived, and fired avolley into the house. The landlord and his wife fled to the cellar.The British swarmed into the tavern, mangled the bodies of the twoold men with bayonet thrusts, and scattered their brains around theroom.
In the morning Roger had felt some qualms of conscience as he took aimat the scarlet line of men by Concord River, but now to him theredcoats were fiends in human form. It gave him fresh courage to seeSamuel Whittemore, eighty years old, come running with his musket,taking deliberate aim, firing three times, and bringing down a redcoatevery time he pulled the trigger. But a soldier leaped from the ranks,ran upon and shot the old man, stabbed him with his bayonet, beat himwith the butt of his musket, leaving him for dead.[65]
[Footnote 65: He was not dead, however, but lived many years.]
Roger swung his hat to welcome Captain Gideon Foster of Danvers, andhis company, who had marched sixteen miles in four hours, coming uponthe British at Menotomy meetinghouse. A moment later they were in thethick of the fight.
It was a thrilling story which Timothy Monroe had to tell, how he andDaniel Townsend fired, and each brought down a redcoat, and then raninto a house; how the British surrounded it, and killed Townsend; howhe leaped through a window and ran, with a whole platoon firing athim, riddling his clothes with bullets, yet escaping without ascratch.
Again Roger rejoiced when he learned that before Earl Percy reachedMenotomy a company of men had captured his baggage wagons, killing andwounding several British soldiers, and that the attacking party wereled by Reverend Philip Payson, the minister of Chelsea.
It was almost sunset when Roger held his horn up to the light oncemore, and saw ther
e was little more than enough powder for one charge,and that there were only two bullets in the pouch. He decided to putin all the powder and both bullets for his parting shot. Another halfhour and they would be under the protection of the guns of the frigateSomerset. The minute-men were getting so near and were so determinedthat Earl Percy ordered the cannon to unlimber and open fire, whilethe soldiers, almost upon the run, hastened towards Charlestown.
Roger, having reloaded his gun, made haste to overtake them. Lookingalong the road, he saw a crowd of panic-stricken people--men, women,and children--fleeing from their houses. The picture of the scene ofMenotomy had stamped itself into his memory. This last shot should behis best. Not now would he crouch behind a fence, a tree, or bowlder.He would confront the murderers like a man. He walked deliberatelyforward. He was by a farmhouse, so near the last file of soldierswhich had halted to ward off the minute-men a moment, that he couldsee the whites of their eyes. He aimed at the cross-belt of a man inthe middle of the file, and pulled the trigger. He caught a glimpse ofa man falling, but found himself reeling to the ground. A bullet hadpierced his breast. The British passed on. A woman came from thehouse, and looked down into his face.
"A drink of water, please marm," he said.
She ran to the well, sank the bucket into it, brought a gourd full,and came and crouched by his head while he drank.
"Thank you, marm."
He looked up into her face a moment.
"I think I am going," he whispered.
She pillowed his head upon her arm, laid back the hair from his manlybrow, and fanned him with her apron.
"Please tell her," he whispered.
"Tell who?"
She bowed her head to catch the word.
"Tell--Rachel."
The mild blue eyes were looking far away. A smile like the light ofthe morning came upon his face. One more breath, and he was one of theforty-nine who, during the day, gave their lives that they mightinaugurate a new era in the republic of God.
Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times Page 20
