CHAPTER II.
ENOCH'S HOME.
"Enoch," said his mother, rising from her chair after a moment's pauseand leading the way toward the kitchen, "breakfast is ready and waiting.While you are eating it I shall be pleased to hear something more aboutthis fight. It looks to me now as though we had got to do battle withthe King."
"That is the way it looks to me, too," said the boy.
The Crosby house would have been an object worth seeing if it had stoodin this century. It was a double house built of logs, the places wherethey met being chinked with clay and the roof was thatched with longgrass or rye straw. The windows consisted of small lead frames set withdiamond plates of glass hung so that they opened inward instead ofoutward. As the building stood facing the south the "sun shone squarelyin at noon," and gave warning that the dinner hour was approaching.
There were two rooms in which Mrs. Crosby took delight--her "best room"and her kitchen. The best room was used only on state occasions, thatis, when the minister came to see them or some old-time friends droppedin for an hour or two. The andirons were of brass and shone so brightlythat one could see his face in them, and in summer time the fireplacewas always kept garnished with asparagus and hollyhocks. On the rudemantelpiece stood the high candlesticks made of the same material, andclose beside them lay the tray and the snuffers. Here also was thelibrary, small, it is true, for reading in those days was undertaken forimprovement and not for pleasure. Books were scarce and cost money; butamong them could be found the family Bible, Watts' Poems, Young's NightThoughts, and Milton's Paradise Lost.
The best room for the family was in the kitchen, and that was whereEnoch always liked to be. Sometimes in winter when he did not have to goto sea he read one of the well-thumbed volumes by the aid of a tallowdip. The blaze in the fireplace was always piled high, but even this wasbut little if any shelter from the cold. The places where the chinkingdid not fit were numerous, and the way the cold wind poured into theroom made the words of an old writer perfectly apparent: "While one sideof the inmate was toasting the other was freezing." To make mattersstill worse "the smoke escaping into the room by no means favored studyor any other employment requiring the use of the eyes."
When Enoch followed his mother into the kitchen he saw there awell-filled table which had often made him hungry when he did not wantanything to eat; but it had little effect upon him now. There was hotsalt pork, vegetables, and bannocks,[3] which were all their simpletastes required. In the place of tea they had milk; for those onehundred and forty men had long ago thrown the tea overboard in Bostonharbor, and all that Mrs. Crosby had left was some tied up in a paperand stowed away in one of her bureau drawers. Before they seatedthemselves at the table they took their stand behind their chairs withbowed and reverent heads, while his mother offered up thanks to theGiver of all good for the provisions set before them. This was a planalways followed in Enoch's home. When his mother was away, at a quiltingbee or sitting up with a sick person, Enoch never forgot the custom, butoffered up prayers himself.
[Footnote 3: Bannocks are something like the present "hoecakes" of theSouth--merely flat cakes of Indian meal or rye, wet with water and bakedover the hot coals on the hearth.]
"Now, boy, I should like to hear something about that fight," said Mrs.Crosby, seating herself in her chair. "Have we got to fight the King,sure enough?"
"The things indicate that fact," said Enoch, helping his mother to apiece of the pork and to a potato which had been baked in the ashes onthe hearth. "King George has not acted right with us anyway. When youngSnyder was killed in Boston because he happened to be near a mob whowere throwing stones at Richardson, the King went and pardoned outRichardson, who had been put into prison for it, after he had been therefor two years. That does not look as though he felt very kindly towardus, does it?"
"And then the tea," said his mother, who came as near being angry as shecould whenever she thought of that. Like all old ladies she loved the"cup which cheers but does not inebriate," and she could not bear tohave it taken away from her. "The King ought not to have taxed us forthat."
"He might if he would allow us to be represented in Parliament," saidEnoch, "but he would not do it. If we have got to be taxed to help carryon the government of Great Britain, we want some men of our own overthere to see about it."
"Now tell me about the fight. You said we killed almost three hundred ofthem."
"Why, mother, you say 'we' as though you were there and helped shoot atthose redcoats," said Enoch.
"Of course I do, my son. If your father were here now, he would havetaken that old flint-lock down and had it put in running order beforethis time," said his mother, pointing to the weapon which occupied itsusual position over the fireplace. "We are Americans, and whenever weare shot at, we must shoot in return."
Enoch was delighted to hear his mother talk in this way. It showed thatshe was not loyal enough to King George to fight against her owncountrymen at any rate. The boy began and told the history of the fightas he had heard it from the messenger, and, as he talked and told howthe minute-men had concealed themselves behind every rock and tree thatthey came to, his mother's eyes sparkled, and she said that she almostwished that she had been a man and lived in Lexington so that she couldhave been there too.
"I really wish I had been there," said Enoch, glancing affectionately atthe old flint-lock as he said this. "Of course I could not shoot withthose who hunt squirrels every day, but I could have made a noise. Andto talk about those British soldiers being invulnerable! I tell you theycould not stand before the minute-men."
"And to think that we should be called '_rebels_,'" said his mother, whocould scarcely restrain herself.
"But I say we are not rebels," said Enoch emphatically. "The people inBoston told the King just what they wanted to do, and he turned aroundand made them do something else. There was not any more loyal papergotten up than they sent to him."
A long talk on such matters as these occupied them while they were atbreakfast, and just as Enoch arose there came a sound like the rattlingof a stick between the pickets of the front fence. The boys had notlearned to whistle in those days to let a comrade know that there wassome one outside waiting for him. Whistling is easier, but the boys madeeach other known in spite of it.
"That is Caleb Young," said Enoch. "I know him by the way he rattles hisstick. I hope we shall hear something more about that fight."
Enoch put on his hat and went out, and there he saw Caleb, dressed afterthe fashion of a seafaring man as he was himself, leaning on the gateand whistling softly to himself.
"Have you got anything more to tell about it?" said Enoch, coming up tohim.
"No more than what the courier has already told," said Caleb. "But say!there is something in the wind."
"I gained an idea from something Zeke said that he was thinking ofsomething else," said Enoch, sinking his voice to a whisper becauseCaleb did the same. "He would not tell us what it was because there weretoo many Tories near."
"No, but he was thinking and talking about it since, and he has made uphis mind that we are going to do something to equal that battle ofLexington in some way," said Caleb. "He has been talking to that JosephWheaton, and he has been advising Zeke what to do. He says it is notright for those Boston people to take all the hard knocks while we getnone of them."
"That is what I say. If we are going to hang, we will all hangtogether."
"But we are not going to hang--none of us," said Caleb, striking thenearest picket with his closed hand. "There are three vessels in theharbor----"
"Yes; and I am going to keep away from them," said Enoch, pushinghimself away from the fence. "You don't make a pirate out of me. I havemade my living honestly and I intend to keep on doing it."
"That is me," said Caleb. "I have worked for every cent I have and I amnot ashamed to let everybody know it; but if we can capture that vesselwe will show the Boston people that they are not alone in thisbusiness."
"What vessel do you me
an?"
"I mean the Margaretta. She is here as convoy for those two sloops thatare loading with lumber, and she is in the service of the crown. If wecan get her we will have the sloops easy enough."
"Why, Caleb, that would be piracy," said Enoch, fairly aghast at theproposition. "The Margaretta has not done anything to us."
"Of course she has not, but she is in the service of the King. Those menwho went out to destroy those stores were in the service of the King,too; but they got neatly whipped for their pains. Zeke and JosephWheaton would not have proposed that plan if they did not think we wouldmake something by it. You ought to have heard mother talk to me while wewere at breakfast. She said that if father was alive now he would havetaken his old flint-lock down and shot every Tory he could find."
"I guess I know about what your mother said, for mine talked to me inthe same way," said Enoch, with a laugh. "Are you one of those who aregoing to capture that schooner?"
"I am! I am one of the fifteen men and boys who have agreed to be onhand when they hear a cheer sounded. That is going to be our rallyingcry, and we must all go to where we hear it. What are you going to do?You are not a Tory."
"Don't you call me that," said Enoch, opening the gate and coming out tomeet his friend. "When that cheer is sounded you will see me on hand.When do you propose to take the schooner?"
"Why as to that we have not had a chance to talk it over," said Caleb."Zeke only spoke of it just a little while ago to see how many men wecould raise; and to-night--here come two of those Tories now," continuedCaleb, pushing his hat on the back of his head and shoving up hissleeves. "Now let us see what they have got to say about that fight atLexington. I do not wish them any harm, but I would like to know thatthey had been there and I kneeling a little way off with my father'sflint-lock in my hand."
"Then you would not have heard anything about that fight," said Enoch,with a laugh. Caleb was noted for his sharp shooting, and if he had gota bead on one of those fellows it would have been all over with him. "Iwill bet you I would have shot pretty close to him," Caleb added.
"Now don't you go to picking a fuss with them," said Enoch in a lowertone, "because I will not have it."
"Oh, I will pick no fuss with them at all," said Caleb, turning his backto the approaching boys and resting his elbow on the fence. "But theymust not say anything against the minute-men. If they do somebody willget licked."
The two boys came nearer, and presently drew up beside the fence besidewhich Enoch and Caleb stood. They did not expect any greeting, for thathappened long ago to have gone out of style between the Tories and theProvincials. Whenever they met on the street they looked straight aheadas if there was nobody there. They did not want to speak to each otherfor the chances were that there would be a game of fisticuffs beforethey got through with it.
These boys were evidently better off in the world than Enoch and hisfriend. They wore cocked hats, neat velvet coats, knee-breeches, silkstockings, and low shoes with huge silver buckles. But their queues werewhat they prided themselves upon. They were neatly combed and hung downupon their coat collars. The arms of their coats were "slashed" inseveral places to show the fine quality of their underwear. If they hadbeen boys in our day we should have been obliged to introduce them withcigarettes in their hands.
These sprucely dressed young fellows were Tories of the worstdescription, but they followed in the footsteps of their fathers. Onewas a "passive" Tory and the other was an "aggressive" Tory. How thesetwo men differed in opinion and actions shall be told further on.
The First Capture; or, Hauling Down the Flag of England Page 2
