THE CAMP-FIRE ON DORCHESTER HEIGHTS.
A season of gloom and anxiety, harassing as that which preceded the action on Bunker Hill, had set in upon that army of patriots which during ten months had prosecuted the siege of Boston. A movement was made silently, and by night, toward Dorchester Heights; in the bright moonlight of a still March evening, the chosen hand, under General Thomas, selected the ground, broke the frozen earth, and began the erection of breastworks. No words were spoken, save those of command, and they crept along the lines in whispers; none thought of rest, or complained of fatigue; but animated by the desire of liberty, by the remembrance of bunker Hill and Concord, and by the thoughts of those who had been left at the fireside, lonely and defenceless, they toiled with an alacrity and success which astonished themselves.
Far different was the scene on the plains. There, throughout the night the whole park of artillery, superintended by Washington in person, played upon the city of Boston, illuminating the sky with arches of fire, and dimming the pale light of the moon. Strange and bewildering was the spectacle to many of the colonists; for even after an actual warfare of many months, they could not comprehend how brethren of the same race could embrace their hands in each other's blood. Yet the object of Washington was less to annoy the enemy, than to conceal the operations at Dorchester Heights. He succeeded; and on the following day, the British troops beheld with admiration and astonishment, a series of breastworks, which , looming through the morning mist, seemed, in their distorted proportions, to be the work of giants.
Yet, all this was but the prelude to a more exciting scene. Throughout that day, the forts of Boston, and the shipping in the harbour, maintained a heavy fire upon the frail works on the Heights; while General Thomas and his officers, mounted on horseback, perceived, with the aid of their glasses, closely compacted regiments marching toward the ferry. That an attack was intended, none doubted; and the heart of many a patriot throbbed with mingled emotions, as he thought on the prize which was to be staked on the following morning.
The sun went down behind thin, misty clouds; and as the light grew fainter till it was lost in darkness the bustle and animation on each side increased. The men on the Heights; no longer fearful of discovery, worked merrily; encouraging each other by every means, until the breastwork was finished. Washington crossed over from the opposite plain, that he might superintend the expected battle in person; the sturdy yeomanry, aroused by rumors of the events of he two preceding days, poured into the camp well armed, and threatening vengeance on the foe; and amid the uproar of a cannonade by night, the brave men who had labored so assiduously, raised their tents and built their fires amid showers of earth and stones, struck from the hill by the enemy's balls.
The men lay on their arms all night. Most of them were soon sunk in slumber; but there were a few whom excitement would not suffer to sleep. These, in small groups, sat around the blazing piles, listening to the sounds which came at irregular intervals from the city, or rehearsing stories of the last year's adventures. One of these groups, consisting of four men, might be seen seated with their backs against a huge bundle of hay, that formed part of the works, and partaking with great satisfaction of a slight repast; marking a table, of course, of their knees.
"I hope they'll get across the Neck," remarked on, whose name was Stuart.
"Heaven grant it!" was the answer. "If they do, they'll remember Dorchester for some years, I'm thinking. It will be a bloodier battle than Bunker Hill. Think of poor Warren, boys!"
"He shall be revenged!" exclaimed another, named Hadley. "As for me, I don't see the use of this tiresome business they call a 'siege.' Here we've been marching, and drilling, and firing cannon, ever since---let me see---wasn't it June when old Putnam fought on Bunker Hill?"
Stuart answered in the affirmative.
"Well, ever since then. I know it was dreadful hot, and we'll soon have summer again; so it's been almost a year. Why won't his excellency let us march ever at once, and drive the red-coat rascals and tories out of town, as we did at Concord?"
"Because he knows better than we do," Stuart replied.
"Hark!" exclaimed the eldest of the four, named Green. "Was that cannon?"
A deep crashing sound broke on the stillness which had reigned for a short time previous, and the echo rolled heavily in the distance. Then all was again silent, save that the breathing of the wearied men was heard around, and sounds which seemed strange and mysterious, came from the harbor. The party grasped their muskets, and looked one upon another, to breathless expectations.
"It sounded like thunder," Stuart said, breaking the silence.
"Not likely to thunder in the month of March, replied Green.
"But let's keep quiet, boys, till we get orders; for you may depend upon it, we'll have enough to do before may days."
"Tell us about Concord, Ben," said Stuart, addressing Hadley. "I wish I had been there with you."
"You may wish that," was the reply, as Hadley placed himself in a more erect position, preparatory to beginning upon his favorite theme.
"It was a glorious day; and the neighbors rose in their strength, to show the murderers of our people who was going to be master. It made the blood tingle in our veins, when we came to Concord, and saw our poor countrymen lying by the roadside, and heard that ruffian Pitcairn cursing the handful of men who were flying before his bayonets!"
"Did our men run?" enquired Barry.
"Yes," resumed Hadley, "till the boys from Reading, Dorchester, and Roxbury, came up. Then we went right at them. We didn't wait for a commandeer; we didn't besiege them; but we beat them clean up the old road from Concord to Lexington, and from Lexington to Charlestown, till every poor fellow who fell on our side was properly revenged---all because they called us rebels!"
"It was a glorious day!" ejaculated Stuart, half-musingly.
"But tell us how it all began, and all about it," said Barry.
"So I will; but let us stir up the fire first, for it's getting chilly---You remember what a stir there was in Boston, when Gage arrived with 'reinforcements,' as he called them. A worse-looking set of rascals---for they are nothing else---you never saw. They squinted maliciously at the neighbors as they marched by; and some of them had got so used to that fashion, that they couldn't look straight when they tried! I was in town then; and I tell you, lads, it was hard to keep hands off of them, even though they did shoulder muskets. Some brisk lads meet, two or three days afterwards, to see if they could plan some mischief against them; but one, who had been to college and read a great many books, persuaded them out of it. I think he was half a coward, though he did know more than the rest of us.
"Things went on bad enough for more than a year, but we didn't get to blows with the soldiers, because the time hadn't come. Our great men had determined not to strike the first blow, and not to take the second without putting one in between. By and by, the Boston men discovered that Gage had spies out, who went through all the streets, prying into everybody's business, and reporting anything that they thought would hurt one of our men, to the officers. Many a one was treated hard enough, merely because these telltales informed on him. But still we kept quiet, only trying to get one of these villains into a by-place, where tar and feathers might be had. At last, however, these fellows became such a nuisance, that some working-men in town formed a society to watch them; and you may depend upon it, they did the business close enough. Every night, even in the depth of winter, they would be out, walking the streets in all directions, mixing with the soldiers, talking to the spies, and picking up all kinds of news about the army, sometimes before it reached Gage's men themselves. No weather could keep them from their duty. These men waded through snowstorms, breasted the rain, and travelled over the glib ice when everything cracked with the cold. Once, one of them, tired, I suppose, with working hard all day, stumbled and fell into a frozen pond in the upper part of the town, which came near costing him his life.
"There was a good deal of drilling among our boys about the same time, and we continued to store up some ammunition where Gage's men couldn't find it. The women helped us mightily in this work, knowing, as they did, so many nooks and corners where things could be stowed away in safety. By and by our men grew bolder. They stored their powder and balls at Concord, not caring whether Gage knew of it or not; and some of them talked pretty strongly about kicking up a fuss, if the soldiers should be sent to take away what didn't belong to them."
"They were sent, though," interrupted Barry.
"Yes---but don't drive me ahead of the story.---The battle, you know, took place on Wednesday. Well, on the Saturday previous, Dr. Warren observed a great stir among the soldiers; and before night a good number of them were off duty, and pretending to drill. But this was only a sham to deceive us; for you must know, lads, that Gage was as artful and as sly as a black snake. Dr. Warren, however, watched him close enough; and about midnight what should he behold but the sailors getting the boats ready to cross over toward Concord. Then it was he felt sure that no time was to be lost; so he send Colonel Revere to tell Mr. Adams and Mr. Hancock to take care of themselves. These three talked over the matter together at Lexington; and it was agreed that when Revere went back to Boston he should make signals to let the surrounding country know if the rascally soldiers were going to attack them."
"Signals," interrupted Stuart; "what kind of signals?"
Scarcely was his question asked, when the same heavy sound, which had disturbed the party before again broke on the stillness of the night. Now it rolled near enough to convince them that it was thunder; and each one, on gazing around, beheld the sky overcast with pitchy clouds, and the atmosphere shrouded in thick darkness, while the wind rushed by in fitful and powerful gusts. A feeling of gloom, mingled with uneasy foreboding, stole upon the heart of even the boldest; and after a vain attempt to pierce the darkness with the eyes, the little party again drew close to their campfire, wrapped their blankets around them, and awaited the conclusion of Hadley's narrative.
"I believe I left off at the signals," he resumed. "It was managed, boys, in this way. If the soldiers should march out by Roxbury, a light was to be hung in North Church steeple; but if they crossed in their boats to the country, thee were to be two lights.---Revere got back to Boston on Sunday; and he arranged matters with Dr. Warren, in such a manner that Gage knew nothing about it. All day on Monday and Tuesday, our men were busy picking up information about what the soldiers intended to do; but the busiest time was yet to come. All the town was in alarm; folks left their own houses and ran to others, whenever anybody arrived with fresh news; no one talked loud, but only whispered. Few men worked on those days; but you might see crowds at the corners, speaking low, but rolling their eyes like mad people, and clenching their hands as firm as iron. Some were afraid to speak, or to listen when others wanted to speak; and a good number, not knowing what might happen, were busily engaged in hiding their little notions where they thought the soldiers couldn't get at them.
"After some time the fears of the people increased. An order came on Tuesday, that no one should leave Boston that night; but Warren had just send Colonel Revere and Mr. Dawes to warn the whole neighborhood; so Gage cheated after all his pains. They didn't forget to hang the lanterns in the steeple either; and it was a sight to make one hold his breath, to see two dim lanterns burning in the darkness, to warn the people of their danger. I was going home that night after being out to buy some flour; and the first thing I saw on looking toward town, was the lights in the steeple. Thinks I to myself, 'There's news, sure enough;' and home I hurried to Lexington, as fast as my horse could trot. Pretty soon, Colonel Revere rode into town, giving the alarm wherever he went, and stating that the soldiers were crossing Charlestown Neck.
"While the news was spreading through the town, Mr. Dawes arrived. Both of them had been chased by the British; but they were true men, and were afraid of nothing. At one o'clock on Wednesday morning they started for Concord, and our prayers went with them; but you remember they were both taken on the road. The British left Revere behind, fearing they would be pursued. And they had good cause to fear; for the whole country was by this time alarmed, and the militia preparing to fight the minute the first gun should be fired."
"Nor had they to wait long. At five o'clock on Wednesday morning, a man on horseback, without cap or coat, galloped into Lexington, shouting that the British were coming up the road. Some called to him to stop; but he rushed on in that mad way toward Concord. Then it was that blood boiled in our veins. We remembered the insults and threats which had been heaped upon us so long, and swore that they should be revenged that day. Some ran through the streets, waving their hats over their heads, and hurraing for their rights. The women hurried from house to house, gathering muskets for the militia, and carrying ammunition in their aprons. No one was idle, and no one was afraid to face all the British troops---yes, and to fight them, too, if fighting was to be done.
"At last the drum beat to arms. We seized our muskets and rushed to the green. Captain Parker drew us up, seventy strong, in double rank; telling us to fight bravely in the cause of freedom. It was only a little while after that, that the clouds of dust in the road told that the enemy were coming. Then we heard their drums beating, and saw the bayonets peeping out from the dust, and glittering in the sun. One company after another came in sight, until our little party looked like a mere handful. Compared to them. But we did n ot fly---not when we saw the officers pointing at us with their swords, and the men lowering their guns for a charge. Our hearts were beating, but not with fear; no, we would have been cut to pieces before one of us would have acted cowardly! But what could seventy men do against nearly a thousand? We had not long to consider. Their leader galloped up like a madman; cursing, shouting, and ordering us to disperse. It was hard to let him finish without letting fly at him, but our captain told us we must keep quiet. All at once they poured a volley upon us. No one was hurt; and as we didn't chose to run for their powder, we faced them just as boldly as before. Seeing this, they fired again; and then the dreadful scene began. How many fell, I had no time to find out before I heard a deep groan on my left. It seemed to me that I knew the voice; and turning round, I saw my poor brother lying on his back with his eyes turned up toward me."
"But he wasn't shot?" enquired Stuart.
"Shot---dying---the blood pouring from his side. I could contain myself no longer; but pulled the trigger of my musket so that it broke in my hand."
"And did the others fire, too?" enquired Barry.
"Yes---but I have forgotten all that followed till we left Lexington. My brain reeled; and though I heard the shouts of the British as they advanced I did not see them. I was trying to assist poor Sam, but the tide bore me on; and when I regained my senses, I was standing in a field, with two or three other men, uttering, as they told me, the wildest languages against my brother's murderers."
"But where were they first checked?" asked Green.
"Not till they got to Concord. It was then seven o'clock. All the militia in town were drawn up on the hills; and the news of the affair at Lexington filled them with fury. The enemy marched to the storehouses, broke them open, and began the work of destruction. The flour was emptied into the river, the ball, which we had gather with so much care, stolen or sunk in wells, and our two cannon battered and abused till they were unfit for use. We let them do it all quietly, but swore that every pennyworth should be taken out of their red jackets. Next they began to break up the bridges; and this was more than we could bear. We were getting stronger every minute; for the farmers came up to the scratch like men, and all the towns were ringing their bells, and sending messengers in every direction, to get up a general rising. I had joined the party on the hills. We couldn't wait any longer; but down we went, with gallant Davis at our head, waving his sword, and calling on us to strike for freedom, but not to give the first blow. Near the bridge they fired upon us again, and Davis, with another man, fell dead. We flung back a volley that made the old hills echo; and half a dozen of Gage's men dropped. They wheeled and fired again, and we did the same, till the guns cracked merrily all around, and we saw them falling as our men did at Lexington. The enemy didn't stand it for very long, but went back to the town in a greater hurry than they had quitted it. But we were after them in hot pursuit. British guns couldn't frighten us as the name once did; for every one was determined to fight it out, if he should be riddled for it. You may believe it cheered our hearts as we chased the cowards to see the old men, too feeble to fight, and wives and mothers, at the windows, encouraging us to push on, and waving their handkerchiefs, instead of flags.
"Then it was we heard the old drums, that had been with us when we whipped the French, beating along the roads to Concord, and telling us that help was at hand. And soon the hills and lanes were swarming with the boys from Reading and Roxbury, who had heard of their friends being shot, and had come to ask satisfaction. And when we saw them coming sho9uting that more were behind, and heard the bells tolling for the dead, and giving the alarm to the living, we rushed headlong on the murderers, and drove both them and their commander out of the town. Then they began their retreat toward Boston, trying to march decently for a little while, as though not afraid of us. But we soon helped their pace, paying particular attention to their rear and flanks. The boys who didn't pursue, got among the rocks and bushes, and peppered them as they went along. There was some shouting among us, when they began to run like a flock of sheep, with their long guns over their shoulders, and their faces as white as a tent-cloth. When they were near one of the gaps opening into the road, Captain Parker lighted on them with his little party from Lexington. He galled their flank properly till they passed, and then joined in the pursuit. Militia came on as though they were springing from the ground; and the sides of the road blazed with one sheet of fire after another. O! it was glorious to be in that chase---glorious! Remember, boys, how often we were insulted by Gage, and called 'rebels' or 'Yankees,' by his men! Yes, and cowards, too---cowards! The blood boils at the word! And then our bleeding men behind us!---It was glory, I say, lads, to chase the rascals like deer up the road, and make them feel that 'rebels' could fight as well as they!
"They were running pretty swiftly before they reached Lexington; the officers behind shouting as loud as they could, but to no purpose. While some were hurrying on they trod down others; and these we took special care of. The poor fellows who had been wounded were thrown into wagons, and hurried to the front; for these brutes, if they could but save their own lives, cared no more for their men than they did for us. But at last some of the officers got to the front, and pushed their heroes back with sword and bayonet. Then they began to form,---we peppering them all the time to our hearts' content, till their ranks looked like a broken pale-fence. And believe me, boys, had that other mob of cowards stayed away a little longer, we would have read them a lesson on the knock-down part of war, which they would have remembered as long as they were in the service."
"How many came to their help?" green enquired.
"Nine hundred with two field pieces."
"But how did Gage know that we had beat them?" asked Barry.
"Know?" resumed the narrator; "everybody knew it. I told you that the old bells were talking from every steeple. One or two of the soldiers who could run faster than the others, had got to Cambridge; and Colonel Smih, who led the party, had also sent a messenger to Boston, to give information of how matters were going.
"The reinforcement was commanded by Lord Percy, as he calls himself; but he's no better than a farmer or a militia-man, if he is alord; and so he found out before the battle was over. He stopped our firing for awhile, with his field-pieces; but they couldn't scare us either;---we were no more afraid of them than we were of musketry. Percy's arrival was a welcome aid to the retreating party; and they dropped at once on the ground, unable to move hand or foot and panting with their tongues out like dogs. His lordship placed his troops around them in a square, making a great show, and firing up the road with his cannon. Our boys weren't fools enough to attack just then, but waited for the signal of marching. This was given in about half an hour; and at the same moment we were up, creeping through the bushes, and around the hills, but keeping out of range of the cannon. When the red-coats saw what we were about, they were very anxious to get a shot at us; but seeing they couldn't then, just out of spite, they set old Billy Wilson's house on fire. The old man had been with us all day; and as he had just got over the ague a week before, he felt tired enough. But when he saw his house burning, he says, 'Boys, we must take the price out of their skins, for we won't get it any other way!" and so he joined again in the pursuit. By and by, they set fire to another house, and then another, till nearly all the houses in the Lexington road were in flames. Many a poor fellow, just beginning life lost all he had; and we could see women running with their children to hide among the bushes and behind the trees. All that had happened before didn't excite us half as much as this sight; and we swore to have vengeance in spite of their field-pieces. A goodly party hurried on to West Cambridge; for we were determined to make a stand there. It was a lucky thought; for General Heath himself was there, with Dr. Warren. We cheered loud enough at the sight of them; but they told every man to be quiet, and do his duty. Then we were placed in regular fighting order; and pretty soon a whole party of our lads came up from Brookline and Dorchester. We were quiet enough till the soldiers came by, and then we rushed right at them. Some of them were running, bu the officers drove them back. They then blazed away at us with a cannon and John Miller was shot through the breast. He was a brave fellow, and with his last breath, he called to us to push on. And on we did push, till we got too near for the cannon to be aimed at us. Then each one had to scratch for himself; and you may rely on it, boys, the rebellion went on briskly. They kept charging on us with their bayonets; but we slipped out of the road; and then the way clubs, pitchforks, flails, and muskets, swung around them, wasn't slow. Old Deacon Growler hit a little red-faced captain such a blow with the butt-end of his musket, right under the ear, as lifted him off the ground; and just as a soldier was aiming his bayonet at Jake Long's rifle. His face was smashed flat by another awful thwack from the Deacon, who quoted Scripture all the time, as if he was leading a prayer meeting. Tom Simmons brought down a horseman, who was shouting, 'Cut down the rebels! cut them down!" and another man, who leaned over his horse to look at his companion, tumbled headforemost over him, shot through the back. The others slipped off their horses in double-quick time; but now and then we got a shot at them, if they did mix with the foot-soldiers. Everything among them was by this time in a good deal of confusion; and we could see clearly enough that some of them were more anxious to get out of the fuss, than they were to get into it. But we stuck to them close as pine-knots, sending one after another out of misery, and shouting loud enough to be heard clear over the hills. They had quit calling us 'Yankees' more than two hours before; but we were not ashamed of the name; and so we hurraed for the Yankees with all our might. It made them mad enough; but our blood was up, and they had to take it."
"How many do you suppose they lost?" enquired Barry.
"About a hundred, without counting the prisoners or the wounded. So you see it was no wonder they got tired of it. --- At last seeing there was no chance to get off, they began to fight desperately; but they didn't drive us back till both the cannon were brought up, and then we slipped to one side; --- not that we were afraid, but we didn't want to stand there, and let them have all the shooting to themselves. As soon as they moved again, we posted after them; and a hot race it was, the whole way up to Charlestown Heights. I don't know but that we would have attacked them even there, during the night, if Gage hadn't sent his whole force over to their assistance."
"Did you get home safe?" asked Green.
"We didn't get home at all," Hadley replied. "I tell you, old man, the whole country, for miles around, was in arms. Our men were out in all directions, spreading the glorious news that a battle had been fought, and that the red-coats had got a thrashing. It was sunset before we chased them into Cambridge; yet,, when I stood on one of the neighboring hills, I could hear the old drums beating far off, and see signals shot up by parties that were hurrying on to help us. No --- we didn't think of going home; for, as I said before, our blood was up, and we were determined to stay and see it out. We wanted Charley Ellis to leave us for the night, and go to a farm-house a good distance from his home, where he had left his mother and sisters two days before; but he says to us, 'Boys, mother and Lucy, and the rest, are safe enough, so long as we keep the red-coats in Boston; and I'm going to stay and do my share at it!. And Squire Hawthorne's son, who had been married only three days, when we asked him why he stayed away from his young wife, made answer, that it was to defend her. He had fought like a dragon the whole day --- all, as he said, for the sake of Lizzy. Ebenezer Grant was out, too. You know, Stuart, what a cross old dog he used to be."
"Yes, I do," was the answer. "He nearly broke my Bill's head, one morning, because he hurraed for liberty; and when I went down to see about it, I found him as crooked as a crab-tree. He swore I was wrong, and the British were wrong, and the rioters were wrong --- all were wrong. People thought he was half a tory."
"So they did," resumed Hadley; "but they were wrong, too. He is as good a patriot as any of us. Early that morning, just before the fight at the bridge, who should join us but Ebenezer, with his musket over his shoulder, swearing he'd shoot every red-coat he could ake aim at. We could scarcely make him wait till we moved; but the way the old man loaded and fired when the battle did begin, was encouraging. He couldn't well keep up with us, on account of his sore foot; but two of them, who had no guns, helped him along, and he fired and loaded, saying, if they'd walk for him, he'd fight for them.
When Hawthorne spoke about fighting from love of his wife, Ebenezer told him that he didn't like fighting from love; and that as for himself, the little he did was out of pure hate to the red-coats. We got used to the old man before the battle was over, and found there was a great deal of dry humor in him after all. He stayed with us all night."
"When did the siege commence?" asked one of the party.
"Right away. There was no time lost. Next day, old Putnam joined us, and began to put things to rights. He had left his plough in the furrow, on hearing of the battle, and rode a hundred miles to join us. Heath was also on the ground, and the 'provincials' as they are called, continued to pour in from all quarters."
"By this time, the storm was raging without, with real equinoctial fury; and the tents of the men were thoroughly saturated with the drenching shower. Hadley stopped his narrative, and with his three companions looked out of the tent-door. The darkness had increased to a pitchy gloom, and through the thick atmosphere teeming with floods of rain, no ray of light could be seen. Hadley gazed for a moment, and then turning to the others, remarked; ---
"They will not cross to-night."
Green shook his head. "No boat could brave such a storm as this."
"We shall have no fight tomorrow," said Hadley, despondingly; "the very elements are against us."
"Perhaps it's for the best," remarked Barry; "for when the red-coats attack us next, it will be worse than Bunker Hill for both parties."
"Are you afraid of them?" asked Stuart.
"Ned Barry was never afraid!" was the answer,
"All I say is, that perhaps the storm was sent by Providence, for some good purpose that we know nothing of."
