“You have killed one of God’s creatures; and he’ll remember it!”
“I would it were one only,” said Lionel; “but they are many, and none can tell where the carnage is to cease.”
“Do you think,” said Job, looking furtively around to assure himself that no other overheard him, “that the king can kill men in the Bay-colony as he can in London? They’ll take this up in old Funnel, and ’twill ring again, from the north-end to the Neck.”
“What can they do, boy, after all,” said Lionel, forgetting at the moment that he whom he addressed had been denied the reason of his kind—“the power of Britain is too mighty for these scattered and unprepared colonies to cope with, and prudence would tell the people to desist from resistance while they may.”
“Does the king believe there is more prudence in London than there is in Boston?” returned the simpleton; “he needn’t think, because the people were quiet at the massacre, there’ll be no stir about this—you have killed one of God’s creatures, and he’ll remember it!”
“How came you here, sirrah?” demanded Lionel, suddenly recollecting himself; “did you not tell me that you were going out to fish for your mother.”
“And if I did,” returned the other, sullenly, “an’t there fish in the ponds as well as in the bay, and can’t Nab have a fresh taste?—Job don’t know there is any act of Parliament ag’in taking brook trout.”
“Fellow, you are attempting to deceive me! Some one is practising on your ignorance, and knowing you to be a fool, is employing you on errands that may one day cost your life.”
“The king can’t send Job on a’r’nds,” said the lad proudly; “there is no law for it, and Job wont go.”
“Your knowledge will undo you, simpleton—who should teach you these niceties of the law?”
“Why, do you think the Boston people so dumb as not to know the law! and Ralph, too—he knows as much law as the king—he told me it was ag’in all law to shoot at the minute-men, unless they fired first, because the colony has a right to train whenever it pleases.”
“Ralph!” said Lionel, eagerly—“can Ralph be with you, then! ’tis impossible; I left him ill, and at home—neither would he mingle in such a business as this, at his years.”
“I expect Ralph has seen bigger armies than the light-infantry, and grannies, and all the soldiers left in town put together,” said Job, evasively.
Lionel was far too generous to practise on the simplicity of his companion, with a view to extract any secret which might endanger his liberty, but he felt a deep concern in the welfare of a young man who had been thrown in his way in the manner already related. He therefore pursued the subject, with the double design to advise Job against dangerous connexions, and to relieve his own anxiety on the subject of the aged stranger. But to all his interrogatories the lad answered guardedly, and with a discretion which denoted that he possessed no small share of cunning, though a higher order of intellect had been denied him.
“I repeat to you,” said Lionel, losing his patience, “that it is important for me to meet the man you call Ralph in the country, and I wish to know if he is to be seen near here.”
“Ralph scorns a lie,” returned Job—“go where he promised to meet you, and see if he don’t come.”
“But no place was named—and this unhappy event may embarrass him, or frighten him—”
“Frighten him!” repeated Job, shaking his head with solemn earnestness; “you can’t frighten Ralph!”
“His daring may prove his misfortune. Boy, I ask you for the last time whether the old man—”
Perceiving Job to shrink back timidly, and lower in his looks, Lionel paused, and casting a glance behind him, he beheld the captain of grenadiers standing with folded arms, silently contemplating the body of the American.
“Will you have the goodness to explain to me, Major Lincoln,” said the captain, when he perceived himself observed, “why this man lies here dead?”
“You see the wound in his breast?”
“It is a palpable and baistly truth that he has been shot—but why, or with what design?”
“I must leave that question to be answered by our superiors, captain M’Fuse,” returned Lionel. “It is, however, rumoured that the expedition is out to seize certain magazines of provisions and arms, which the colonists have been collecting, it is feared, with hostile intentions.”
“I had my own sagacious thoughts that we were bent on some such glorious errand!” said M’Fuse. “Tell me, Major Lincoln—you are certainly but a young soldier, though, being of the staff, you should know—does Gage think we can have a war with the arms and ammunition all on one side? We have had a long p’ace, Major Lincoln, and now when there is a prospect of some of the peculiarities of the profession arising, we are commanded to do the very thing which is most likely to def’ate the object of war.”
“I do not know that I rightly understand you, sir,” said Lionel; “there can be but little glory gained by such troops as we possess, in a contest with the unarmed and undisciplined inhabitants of any country.”
“Exactly my maining, sir; it is quite obvious that we understand each other thoroughly, without a world of circumlocution. The lads are doing very well at present, and if left to themselves a few months longer, it may become a creditable affair. You know, as well as I do, Major Lincoln, that time is necessary to make a soldier, and if they are hurried into the business, you might as well be chasing a mob up Ludgate hill, for the honour you will gain. A discrate officer would nurse this little matter, instead of resorting to such precipitation. To my id’a’a’s, sir, the man before us has been butchered, and not slain in honourable battle!”
“There is much reason to fear that others may use the same term in speaking of the affair,” returned Lionel; “God knows how much cause we may have to lament his death!”
“On that topic, the man may be said to have gone through a business that was to be done, and is not to be done over again,” said the captain very coolly, “and therefore his death can be no very great calamity to himself, whatever it may be to us. If these minute-men, and as they stand but a minute they ’arn their name like worthy fellows—if these minute-men, sir, stood in your way, you should have whipped them from the green with your ramrods.”
“Here is one who may tell you that they are not to be treated like children either,” said Lionel, turning to the place which had been so recently occupied by Job Pray, but which he now found vacant. While he was yet looking around him, wondering whither the lad could so suddenly have withdrawn, the drums beat the signal to form, and a general bustle among the soldiery, showed them to be on the eve of further movements. The two gentlemen rejoined their companions, walking thoughtfully towards the troops, though influenced by totally different views of the recent transactions.
During the short halt of the advance, the whole detachment was again united, and a hasty meal had been taken. The astonishment which succeeded the rencontre, had given place, among the officers, to a military pride, capable of sustaining them in much more arduous circumstances. Even the ardent looks of professional excitement were to be seen in most of their countenances, as with glittering arms, waving banners, and timing their march to the music of their band, they wheeled from the fatal spot, and advanced again, with measured steps, along the highway. If such was the result of the first encounter on the lofty and tempered spirits of the gentlemen of the detachment, its effect on the common hirelings in the ranks, was still more palpable and revolting. Their coarse jests, and taunting looks, as they moved by the despised victims of their disciplined skill, together with the boastful expression of brutal triumph, which so many among them betrayed, exhibited the infallible evidence, that having tasted of blood, they were now ready, like tigers, to feed on it till they were glutted.
Chapter X
“There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lea.—”
Marmion.
* * *
THE POMP of military parade with which the troops marched from the village of Lexington, as the little hamlet was called, where the foregoing events occurred, soon settled again into the sober and business-like air of men bent on the achievement of their object. It was no longer a secret that they were to proceed further into the interior, to destroy the stores already mentioned, and which were now known to be collected at Concord, the town where the Congress of Provincial Delegates, who were substituted by the colonists for the ancient legislature of the Province, held its meetings. As the march could not now be concealed, it became necessary to resort to expedition, in order to ensure its successful termination. The veteran officer of marines, so often mentioned, resumed his post in front, and at the head of the same companies of the light corps which he had before led, pushed in advance of the heavier column of the grenadiers. Polwarth, by this arrangement, perceived himself again included among those on whose swiftness of foot so much depended. When Lionel rejoined his friend he found him at the head of his men, marching with so grave an air, as at once induced the Major to give him credit for regrets much more commendable than any connected with physical distress. The files were once more opened for room, as well as for air, which was becoming necessary, as a hot sun began to dissipate the mists of the morning, and shed that enervating influence on the men so peculiar to the first warmth of an American Spring.
“This has been a hasty business altogether, Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth, as Lionel took his wonted station at the side of the other, and dropped mechanically into the regular step of the party—“I know not that it is quite as lawful to knock a man in the head as a bullock.”
“You then agree with me in thinking the attack hasty, if not cruel?”
“Hasty! unequivocally. Haste may be called the distinctive property of the expedition; and whatever destroys the appetite of an honest man, may be set down as cruel. I have not been able to swallow a mouthful of breakfast, Leo. A man must have the cravings of a hyena, and the stomach of an ostrich, to eat and digest with such work as this before his eyes.”
“And yet the men regard their acts with triumph!”
“The dogs are drilled to it. But you saw how sober the Provincials looked in the matter; we must endeavour to sooth their feelings in the best manner we can.”
“Will they not despise our consolation and apologies, and look rather to themselves for redress and vengeance?”
Polwarth smiled contemptuously, and there was an air of pride about him that gave an appearance of elasticity even to his heavy tread, as he answered—
“The thing is a bad thing, Major Lincoln, and, if you will, a wicked thing—but take the assurance of a man who knows the country well, there will be no attempts at vengeance; and as for redress, in a military way, the thing is impossible.”
“You speak with a confidence, sir, that should find its warranty in an intimate acquaintance with the weakness of the people.”
“I have dwelt two years, Major Lincoln, in the very heart of the country,” said Polwarth, without turning his eyes from the steady gaze he maintained on the long road which lay before him, “even three hundred miles beyond the inhabited districts; and I should know the character of the nation, as well as its resources. In respect to the latter, there is no esculent thing within its borders, from a humming-bird to a buffalo, or from an artichoke to a water-melon, that I have not, on some occasion or other, had tossed up, in a certain way—therefore, I can speak with confidence, and do not hesitate to say, that the colonists will never fight; nor, if they had the disposition, do they possess the means to maintain a war.”
“Perhaps, sir,” returned Lionel sharply, “you have consulted the animals of the country too closely to be acquainted with its spirits?”
“The relation between them is intimate—tell me what food a man diets on, and I will furnish you with his character. ’Tis morally impossible that a people who eat their pudding before the meats, after the fashion of these colonists, can ever make good soldiers, because the appetite is appeased before the introduction of the succulent nutriment of the flesh, into—”
“Enough! spare me the remainder,” interrupted Lionel—“too much has been said already to prove the inferiority of the American to the European animal, and your reasoning is conclusive.”
“Parliament must do something for the families of the sufferers.”
“Parliament! yes, we shall be called on to pass resolutions to commend the decision of the General, and the courage of the troops; and then, after we have added every possible insult to the injury, under the conviction of our imaginary supremacy, we may hear of some paltry sum to the widows and orphans, cited as an evidence of the unbounded generosity of the nation!”
“The feeding of six or seven broods of young Yankees is no such trifle, Major Lincoln,” returned Polwarth; “and there I trust the unhappy affair will end. We are now marching on Concord, a place with a most auspicious name, where we shall find repose under its shadow, as well as the food which this home-made parliament has gotten together. These considerations alone support me under the fatigue of this direful trot with which old Pitcairn goes over the ground—does the man think he is hunting with a pack of beagles at his heels!”
The opinion expressed by his companion, concerning the martial propensities of the Americans, was one too common among the troops to excite any surprise in Lionel, but disgusted with the illiberality of the sentiment, and secretly offended at the supercilious manner with which the other expressed these injurious opinions of his countrymen, he continued his route in silence, while Polwarth speedily lost his loquacious propensity, in a sense of the fatigue that assailed every muscle and joint in his body.
That severe training of the corps, concerning which the captain vented so frequent complaints, now stood the advance in good service. It was apparent that the whole country was in a state of alarm, and small bodies of armed men were occasionally seen on the heights that flanked their route, though no attempts were made to revenge the deaths of those who fell at Lexington. The march of the troops was accelerated rather with a belief that the colonists might remove, or otherwise secrete the stores, than from any apprehension that they would dare to oppose the progress of the chosen troops of the army. The slight resistance of the Americans in the rencontre of that morning, was already a jest among the soldiers, who sneeringly remarked, that the term of “minute-men,” was deservedly applied to warriors who had proved themselves so nimble in flight. In short, every opprobrious and disrespectful epithet that contempt and ignorance could invent, were freely lavished on the forbearing mildness of the suffering colonists. In this temper the troops reached a point whence the modest spire and roofs of Concord became visible. A small body of the colonists retired through the place as the English advanced, and the detachment entered the town without the least resistance, and with the appearance of conquerors. Lionel was not long in discovering from such of the inhabitants as remained, that, notwithstanding their approach had been known for some time, the events of that morning were yet a secret from the people of the village. Detachments from the light corps were immediately sent in various directions; some to search for the ammunition and provisions, and some to guard the approaches to the place. One, in particular, followed the retreating footsteps of the Americans, and took post at a bridge, at some little distance, which cut off the communication with the country to the northward.
In the meantime, the work of destruction was commenced in the town, chiefly under the superintendance of the veteran officer of the marines. The few male inhabitants who remained in their dwellings, were of necessity peaceable, though Lionel could read in the flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes, the secret indignation of men, who, accustomed to the protection of the law,
now found themselves subjected to the insults and wanton abuses of a military inroad. Every door was flung open, and no place was held sacred from the rude scrutiny of the licentious soldiery. Taunts and execrations soon mingled with the seeming moderation with which the search had commenced, and loud exultation was betrayed, even among the officers, as the scanty provisions of the colonists were gradually brought to light. It was not a moment to respect private rights, and the freedom and ribaldry of the men were on the point of becoming something more serious, when the report of fire-arms was heard suddenly to issue from the post held by the light-infantry, at the bridge. A few scattering shot were succeeded by a volley, which was answered by another, with the quickness of lightning, and then the air became filled with the incessant rattling of a sharp conflict. Every arm was suspended, and each tongue became mute with astonishment, and the men abandoned their occupations as these unexpected sounds of war broke on their ears. The chiefs of the party were seen in consultation, and horsemen rode furiously into the place, to communicate the nature of this new conflict. The rank of Major Lincoln soon obtained for him a knowledge that it was thought impolitic to communicate to the whole detachment. Notwithstanding it was apparent that they who brought the intelligence were anxious to give it the most favourable aspect, he soon discovered that the same body of Americans which had retired at their approach, having attempted to return to their homes in the town, had been fired on at the bridge, and in the skirmish which succeeded, the troops had been compelled to give way with loss. The effect of this prompt and spirited conduct on the part of the provincials produced a sudden alteration, not only in the aspect, but also in the proceedings of the troops. The detachments were recalled, the drums beat to arms, and, for the first time, both officers and men seemed to recollect that they had six leagues to march through a country that hardly contained a friend. Still few or no enemies were visible, with the exception of those men of Concord, who had already drawn blood freely from the invaders of their domestic sanctuaries. The dead, and all the common wounded, were left where they had fallen, and it was thought an unfavourable omen among the observant of the detachment, that a wounded young subaltern, of rank and fortune, was also abandoned to the mercy of the exasperated Americans. The privates caught the infection from their officers, and Lionel saw, that in place of the high and insulting confidence with which the troops had wheeled into the streets of Concord, they left them, when the order was given to march, with faces bent anxiously on the surrounding heights, and with looks that bespoke a consciousness of the dangers that were likely to beset the long road which lay before them.
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