The Spy & Lionel Lincoln

by James Fenimore Cooper

  As they entered the street, Burgoyne relinquished the arm of his companion, and moved with becoming dignity by the side of his brother General. Lionel gladly availed himself of this alteration to withdraw a little from the group, whose steps he followed at such a distance as permitted him to observe those exhibitions of feeling on the part of the inhabitants, which the pride of the others induced them to overlook. Pallid and anxious female faces were gleaming out upon them from every window, while the roofs of the houses, and the steeples of the churches, were beginning to throng with more daring, and equally interested spectators. The drums no longer rolled along the narrow streets, though, occasionally, the shrill strain of a fife was heard from the water, announcing the movements of the troops to the opposite peninsula. Over all was heard the incessant roaring of the artillery, which, untired, had not ceased to rumble in the air since the appearance of light, until the ear, accustomed to its presence, had learnt to distinguish the lesser sounds we have recorded.

  As the party descended into the lower passages of the town, it appeared deserted by every thing having life, the open windows and neglected doors betraying the urgency of the feelings which had called the population to situations more favourable for observing the contest. This appearance of intense curiosity excited the sympathies of even the old and practised soldiers; and quickening their paces, they soon rose from among the gloomy edifices to the open and unobstructed view from the hill.

  The whole scene now lay before them. Nearly in their front was the village of Charlestown, with its deserted streets, and silent roofs, looking like a place of the dead; or, if the signs of life were visible within its open avenues, ’twas merely some figure moving swiftly in the solitude, like one who hastened to quit a devoted spot. On the opposite point of the south-eastern face of the peninsula, and at the distance of a thousand yards, the ground was already covered by masses of human beings, in scarlet, their arms glittering in the noon-day sun. Between the two, though in the more immediate vicinity of the silent town, the rounded ridge already described, rose abruptly from a flat that was bounded by the water, until, having attained an elevation of some fifty or sixty feet, it swelled gradually to the little crest, where was planted the humble object that occasioned all this commotion. The meadows, on the right, were still peaceful and smiling as in the most quiet days of the province, though the excited fancy of Lionel imagined that a sullen stillness lingered about the neglected kilns in their front, and over the whole landscape, that was in gloomy consonance with the approaching scene. Far on the left, across the waters of the Charles, the American camp had poured forth its thousands to the hills; and the whole population of the country for many miles inland, had gathered to a point, to witness a struggle charged with the fate of the nation. Beacon-hill rose from out the appalling silence of the town of Boston, a pyramid of living faces, with every eye fixed on the fatal point, and men hung along the yards of the shipping, or were suspended on cornices, cupolas, and steeples, in thoughtless security, while every other sense was lost in the absorbing interest of the sight. The vessels of war had hauled deep into the rivers, or more properly, those narrow arms of the sea which formed the peninsula, and sent their iron missiles with unwearied industry across the low passage which alone opened the means of communication between the self-devoted yeomen on the hill, and their distant countrymen. While battalion landed after battalion on the point, cannon-balls from the battery of Copp’s, and the vessels of war, were glancing up the natural glacis that surrounded the redoubt, burying themselves in its earthen parapet, or plunging with violence into the deserted sides of the loftier height which lay a few hundred yards in the rear; and the black and smoking bombs appeared to hover above the spot, as if pausing to select places in which to plant their deadly combustibles.

  Notwithstanding these appalling preparations, and ceaseless annoyances, throughout that long and anxious morning, the stout husbandmen on the hill had never ceased their steady efforts to maintain, to the uttermost extremity, the post they had so daringly assumed. In vain the English exhausted every means to disturb their stubborn foes; the pick, the shovel, and the spade continued to perform their offices, and mound rose after mound, amidst the din and danger of the cannonade, steadily, and as well as if the fanciful conceits of Job Pray embraced their real objects, and the labourers were employed in the peaceful pursuits of their ordinary lives. This firmness, however, was not like the proud front which high training can impart to the most common mind; for ignorant of the glare of military show; in the simple and rude vestments of their calling; armed with such weapons as they had seized from the hooks above their own mantels; and without even a banner to wave its cheering folds above their heads, they stood, sustained only by the righteousness of their cause, and those deep moral principles which they had received from their fathers, and which they intended this day should show, were to be transmitted untarnished to their children. It was afterwards known that they endured their labours and their dangers even in want of that sustenance which is so essential to support animal spirits in moments of calmness and ease; while their enemies, on the point, awaiting the arrival of their latest bands, were securely devouring a meal, which to hundreds amongst them proved to be the last. The fatal instant seemed approaching. A general movement was seen among the battalions of the British, who began to spread along the shore, under cover of the brow of the hill—the lingering boats having arrived with the rear of their detachments—and officers hurried from regiment to regiment with the final mandates of the chief. At this moment a body of Americans appeared on the crown of Bunker-hill, and descending swiftly by the road, disappeared in the meadows to the left of their own redoubt. This band was followed by others, who, like themselves, had broken through the dangers of the narrow pass, by braving the fire of the shipping, and who also hurried to join their comrades on the low land. The British General determined at once to anticipate the arrival of further reinforcements, and gave forth the long-expected order to prepare for the attack.

  Chapter XVI

  “Th’ imperious Briton, on the well-fought ground,

  No cause for joy, or wanton triumph found,

  But saw, with grief, their dreams of conquest vain,

  Felt the deep wounds, and mourn’d their vet’rans slain.”

  Humphreys.

  * * *

  THE AMERICANS had made a show, in the course of that fearful morning, of returning the fire of their enemies, by throwing a few shot from their light field-pieces, as if in mockery of the tremendous cannonade which they sustained.* But as the moment of severest trial approached, the same awful stillness which had settled upon the deserted streets of Charlestown, hovered around the redoubt. On the meadows, to its left, the recently arrived bands hastily threw the rails of two fences into one, and covering the whole with the mown grass that surrounded them, they posted themselves along the frail defence, which answered no better purpose than to conceal their weakness from their adversaries. Behind this characteristic rampart, several bodies of husbandmen from the neighbouring provinces of New-Hampshire and Connecticut, lay on their arms, in sullen expectation. The line extended from the shore to the base of the ridge, where it terminated several hundred feet behind the works; leaving a wide opening in a diagonal direction, between the fence and an earthen breast-work, which ran a short distance down the declivity of the hill, from the north-eastern angle of the redoubt. A few hundred yards in the rear of this rude disposition, the naked crest of Bunker-hill rose unoccupied and undefended, and the streams of the Charles and Mystick sweeping around its base, approached so near each other as to blend the sounds of their currents. Across this low and narrow isthmus, the royal frigates poured a stream of fire, that never ceased, while around it hovered numerous parties of the undisciplined Americans, hestitating to attempt the dangerous passage.

  In this manner Gage had, in a great degree, surrounded the devoted peninsula with his power; and the bold men who had so daringly plante
d themselves under the muzzles of his cannon, were left, as already stated, unsupported, without nourishment, and with weapons from their own gun-hooks, singly to maintain the honour of the nation. Including men of all ages and conditions, there might have been two thousand; but as the day advanced, small bodies of their countrymen, taking counsel of their feelings, and animated by the example of the old Partisan of the Woods, who crossed and recrossed the neck, loudly scoffing at the danger, broke through the fire of the shipping in time to join in the closing and bloody business of the hour.

  On the other hand, Howe led more than an equal number of the chosen troops of his Prince; and as boats continued to ply between the two peninsulas throughout the afternoon, the relative disparity continued undiminished to the end of the struggle. It was at this point in our narrative that, deeming himself sufficiently strong to force the defences of his despised foes, the arrangements immediately preparatory to such an undertaking were made in full view of the excited spectators. Notwithstanding the security with which the English General marshalled his warriors, he felt that the approaching contest would be a battle of no common incidents. The eyes of tens of thousands were fastened on his movements, and the occasion demanded the richest display of the pageantry of war.

  The troops formed with beautiful accuracy, and the columns moved steadily along the shore, and took their assigned stations under cover of the brow of the eminence. Their force was in some measure divided; one moiety attempting the toilsome ascent of the hill, and the other moving along the beach, or in the orchards of the more level ground, towards the husbandmen on the meadows. The latter soon disappeared behind some fruit-trees and the brick-kilns mentioned. The advance of the royal columns up the ascent was slow and measured, giving time to their field-guns to add their efforts to the uproar of the cannonade, which broke out with new fury as the battalions prepared to march. When each column arrived at the allotted point, it spread the gallant array of its glittering warriors under a bright sun.

  “It is a glorious spectacle,” murmured the graceful chieftain by the side of Lionel, keenly alive to all the poetry of his alluring profession; “how exceeding soldier-like! and with what accuracy his ‘first-arm ascends the hill,’ towards his enemy!”

  The intensity of his feelings prevented Major Lincoln from replying, and the other soon forgot that he had spoken, in the overwhelming anxiety of the moment. The advance of the British line, so beautiful and slow, resembled rather the ordered steadiness of a drill than an approach to a deadly struggle. Their standards fluttered above them, and there were moments when the wild music of the bands was heard, tempering the ruder sounds of the artillery. The young and thoughtless in the ranks turned their faces backward, and smiled exultingly, as they beheld steeples, roofs, masts, and heights, teeming with thousands of eyes, bent on their bright array. As the British lines moved in open view of the little redoubt, and began slowly to gather around its different faces, gun after gun became silent, and the curious artillerist, or tired seaman, lay extended on his heated piece, gazing at the spectacle. There was just then a minute when the roar of the cannonade seemed passing away like the rumbling of distant thunder.

  “They will not fight, Lincoln,” said the animated leader at the side of Lionel—“the military front of Howe has chilled the hearts of the knaves, and the victory will be bloodless!”

  “We shall see, sir—we shall see!”

  These words were barely uttered, when platoon after platoon, among the British, delivered its fire, the blaze of musketry flashing swiftly around the brow of the hill, and was immediately followed by heavy volleys that ascended from the orchard. Still no answering sound was heard from the Americans, and the royal troops were lost to the eye as they slowly marched into the white cloud created by their own fire.

  “They are cowed, by heavens—the dogs are cowed!” once more cried the gay companion of Lionel, “and Howe is within two hundred feet of them, unharmed!”

  At that instant a sheet of flame glanced through the smoke, like lightning playing in a cloud, while at one report a thousand muskets delivered their fire. It was not altogether fancy which led Lionel to imagine that the smoky canopy of the hill waved as if the trained warriors it enveloped faltered before this close and appalling discharge; but in another instant, the stimulating war-cry, and the loud shouts of the combatants were borne across the strait to his ears, even amid the din of the combat. Ten breathless minutes flew by like a moment, and the bewildered spectators on Copp’s were still gazing intently on the scene, when a voice was raised among them, shouting—

  “Hurrah! let the rake-hellies go up to Breed’s; the people will teach ’em the law!”

  “Throw the scoundrel from the hill! Blow him from the muzzle of a gun!” cried twenty soldiers in a breath.

  “Hold!” exclaimed Lionel—“’tis a simpleton, an idiot, a fool!”

  But the angry murmurs as quickly subsided, and were lost in other feelings, as the bright red lines of the royal troops were seen issuing from the smoke, waving and recoiling before the vivid fire of their enemies.

  “Ha!” said Burgoyne—“’tis some feint to draw the rebels from their hold!”

  “’Tis a palpable and disgraceful retreat!” muttered the stern warrior nigh him, whose truer eye detected at a glance the discomfiture of the assailants—“’Tis another base retreat before rebels!”

  “Hurrah!” shouted the reckless Job again; “there come the reg’lars out of the orchard too!—see the grannies skulking behind the kilns! Let them go on to Breed’s, the people will teach ’em the law!”

  No cry of vengeance preceded the act, but fifty of the soldiery rushed, as by a common impulse, on their prey. Lionel had not time to utter a word of remonstrance, before Job appeared in the air, borne on the uplifted arms of a dozen men, and at the next instant he was seen rolling down the steep declivity, with a velocity that carried him to the water’s edge. Springing to his feet, the undaunted lad once more waved his hat in triumph, and shouted his offensive challenge. Then turning, he launched his canoe from its hiding place among the adjacent lumber, amid a shower of stones, and glided across the strait; his little bark escaping unnoticed in the crowd of boats that were rowing in all directions. But his progress was watched by the uneasy eye of Lionel, who saw him land and disappear, with hasty steps, in the silent streets of the town.

  While this trifling by-play was enacted, the great drama of the day was not at a stand. The smoky veil which clung around the brow of the eminence, was lifted by the air, and sailed heavily away to the south-west, leaving the scene of the bloody struggle open to view. Lionel witnessed the grave and meaning glances which the two lieutenants of the king exchanged as they simultaneously turned their glasses from the fatal spot, and taking the one proffered by Burgoyne, he read their explanation in the numbers of the dead that lay scattered in front of the redoubt. At this instant, an officer from the field held an earnest communication with the two leaders, when, having delivered his orders, he hastened back to his boat, like one who felt himself employed in matters of life and death.

  “It shall be done, sir,” repeated Clinton, as the other departed, his own honest brow knit under high martial excitement.—“The artillery have their orders, and the work will be accomplished without delay.”

  “This, Major Lincoln!” cried his more sophisticated companion, “this is one of the trying duties of the soldier! To fight, to bleed, or even to die, for his prince, is his happy privilege; but it is sometimes his unfortunate lot to become the instrument of vengeance.”

  Lionel waited but a moment for an explanation—the flaming balls were soon seen taking their wide circuit in the air, carrying desolation among the close and inflammable roofs of the opposite town. In a very few minutes a dense, black smoke arose from the deserted buildings, and forked flames played actively along the heated shingles, as if rioting in their unmolested possession of the place. He regarded the gathering
destruction in painful silence; and on bending his looks towards his companions, he fancied, notwithstanding the language of the other, that he read the deepest regret in the averted eye of him who had so unhesitatingly uttered the fatal mandate to destroy.

  In scenes like these we are attempting to describe, hours appear to be minutes, and time flies as imperceptibly as life slides from beneath the feet of age. The disordered ranks of the British had been arrested at the base of the hill, and were again forming under the eyes of their leaders, with admirable discipline, and extraordinary care. Fresh battalions, from Boston, marched with military pride into the line, and every thing betokened that a second assault was at hand. When the moment of stupid amazement which succeeded the retreat of the royal troops had passed, the troops and batteries poured out their wrath with tenfold fury on their enemies. Shot were incessantly glancing up the gentle acclivity, madly ploughing its grassy surface, while black and threatening shells appeared to hover above the work like monsters of the air, about to stoop upon their prey.

  Still all lay quiet and immoveable within the low mounds of earth, as if none there had a stake in the issue of the bloody day. For a few moments only, the tall figure of an aged man was seen slowly moving along the summit of the rampart, calmly regarding the dispositions of the English general in the more distant part of his line, and after exchanging a few words with a gentleman who joined him in his dangerous look-out, they disappeared together behind the earthen banks. Lionel soon detected the name of Prescott of Pepperell, passing through the crowd in low murmurs, and his glass did not deceive him when he thought, in the smaller of the two, he had himself descried the graceful person of the unknown leader of the ‘caucus.’

  All eyes were now watching the advance of the battalions, which once more drew nigh the point of contest. The heads of the columns were already in view of their enemies, when a man was seen swiftly ascending the hill from the burning town: he paused amid the peril, on the natural glacis, and swung his hat triumphantly, and Lionel even fancied he heard the exulting cry, as he recognised the ungainly form of the simpleton, before it plunged into the work.