The Minute Boys of Boston. Otis James
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The Minute Boys of Boston
CHAPTER I
WHY WE WERE ENROLLED
Archie Hemming is as straight-headed a boy as was ever raised in Boston town, and he insists that, while we are seemingly idling our time away here in the Cambridge camp, I ought to set down what small share we lads of Boston have had in beating the lobster backs, for certain it is we have done our share, and no less a man than General Israel Putnam has told us plainly that we have already been of great aid to the Cause.
After such praise as that it would not be strange if we allowed ourselves to be puffed up with pride, more especially because we can recall many a time since a baker's dozen of us took the high sounding name of "Minute Boys of Boston," when we have come off best in a tussle with the king's soldiers or the rascally Tories.
It may seem a matter of surprise to those who have not had a hand in teaching his majesty a long-needed lesson, that there should be in this colony of ours, men, and boys too, who could be so evil minded as to do all they might against those who were shedding their blood, or imperilling their lives, to release them from the oppressive yoke of English misrule, but such was, and is, the fact.
During my short life, for I am not yet turned fifteen years, I have been in more danger, and suffered more of hardships from and through Tories, our own neighbors and alleged friends, than ever came my way by the efforts of the red-coated soldiers who allowed to whip us off-hand, before getting a taste of our metal at Breed's hill – I can never bring myself to speak of that battle as having taken place at Bunker hill, for the simple reason that we did not fight there.
Archie, who is sitting nearby with Silas Brownrigg, looking over my shoulder to make certain I keep steadily and correctly at the task he has assigned me, says that he did not count on my beginning the story in such a roundabout way, for he wants to see in black and white, as soon as may be, an account of what we Boston Minute Boys have done thus far in the war against the king.
Now it seems to me that I ought to begin this tale with the reason why some of us Boston lads decided it might be possible for us to work in behalf of the Cause, and in order to do that I must hark back to what has been done these two years past to us of Boston by the king, and those hangers on of his who counted on grinding us into the dust as if we were made of baser stuff than they.
We lads, being young, did not realize all the iniquity of which General Gage was capable, when his acts were purely political, and, perhaps, gave but little heed to our elders when we heard them predicting that he would ruin the colony if it should not be possible to check his unlawful career; but when on the first day of June, in the year of grace 1774, he closed our port of Boston to all vessels save those of the king's, shutting us up like mice in a trap to starve, or leave the colony as fugitives, then did we realize that the moment had come for something more than talk.
General Gage had brought soldiers from Halifax, Quebec, New York and even Ireland, to keep us of Boston in subjection to him, until the lobster backs out-numbered our people two to one, or so it seemed to me, and when he had us cooped up, through having set his hirelings to guard the Neck, thereby preventing us from going out, or our friends of the country from coming in, then did he crown the height of his oppression by making declaration that the port was closed to all.
He had under his command ships of the king enough to enforce this unrighteous act, and there we were, much the same as tied hand and foot. The poor people became beggars because there was no work by which they could earn money to buy food, while the rich found that with all their wealth it was impossible to purchase what was not for sale because of the scarcity, and meanwhile the king's lobster backs fed on the fat of the land, devouring us and our substance as did the locusts that were sent to aid the children of Israel.
Had it not been for the people in the other colonies who sent us rice, wheat and even money, there were many in our town of Boston who would have died of starvation. Why even the charitable men of London, who must have understood that we were being wronged, subscribed one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the poor among us.
I have heard it said that even the most cowardly animal will fight when he is cornered and his life threatened, and so it was with us. The men banded themselves together as if for war, and made ready for the struggle which all knew must be near at hand, unless his majesty should succeed in gaining better sense than he had shown since our people built up for him a nation in this New World.
We lads did not believe it possible we could do anything at such a time; but looked forward to the day when, having come to man's estate, we might enlist as soldiers to drive out General Gage, and such as he, from among us.
Then the fortifications on the Neck were strengthened, the better to hold us prisoners; all the gunpowder belonging to the province that had been stored at Charlestown and Cambridge was seized by the man who had made of himself our jailor, and we were terrified by rumors that the king's ships were about to open fire on the town because our people were arming themselves.
The true men of New York, Connecticut, Vermont, and from all the country roundabout Boston, rose up in their might, marching at their best pace to our assistance, and General Gage must have understood that he was stirring up a hornet's nest, for the rumors were denied, and those who would have begun the war then and there, returned to their homes.
If you will believe it, there were, at the close of the year 1774, eleven regiments of British soldiers in Boston, to say nothing of all the artillery, and yet more were coming. Five hundred marines were landed from the Asia Man-of-War, and thousands of lobster backs were voyaging from the Jerseys, New York, and Quebec!
Was it any wonder that we of Boston were the same as eaten out of our homes? These men wearing red-coats were not suffered to lack for the best of food; but it mattered little what we colonists had, and yet there were those among us, born and bred in Boston town, who claimed that General Gage was acting the part of an honest man!
At the beginning of the year 1775 no less than an hundred and fifty soldiers were on duty at the Neck night and day, and yet our people were able to send past them secretly such of weapons and ammunition as were to provide us, at a later date, with what might be needed to uphold our rights. Even the youngest among us understood that the day was not far distant when we must stand face to face with the lobster backs in battle array, if we would preserve our own rights, and every article which might be used in the coming struggle was smuggled under the noses of the guards.
Our fathers sent out muskets in loads of manure, cartridges in candle boxes, pistols and swords in the baskets of such market women as were permitted to enter the town that they might bring provisions for the king's soldiers, and the loyal men of Boston had collected at Cambridge quite a store of what would be needed when the time came that blood must be shed. Then, suddenly, the thick-headed lobster backs discovered what was being done, and scores upon scores of firearms were captured by them.
Many of our people had fled the town by this time; but a large number yet remained. My father, Samuel Wright, had lately gone to Cambridge on business. We were then living on Lyn street, close by the old ship-yard near Hudson's point, and not far away, that is to say, on Hull street opposite the burying place, was the home of Archie Hemming, the lad who sits near me at this moment watching every motion of mine lest I falter in the task he has set me. Silas Brownrigg lived on Salem street nearby the corner of Charter, and we three were close friends in those dark days when the king's men swaggered through the town, cuffing or kicking any of us lads who chanced to be in their high and mighty way.
Now it was on a certain evening near the middle of June that we three lads chanced to come upon Amos Nelson near the city dock. He, like all his father's brood, was that miserable thing known as a Tory, and we had no idea of bandying words with him, believing it beneath us to talk with such scum; but he was minded to pick a quarrel, believing that General Gage would soon drive us, who claimed to be true to the colony, from our homes.
Because of what happened shortly afterward, I believe the Tory cur had heard at home some inkling of what was to be done by the lobster backs, for never had I seen him so bold, who was ever somewhat of a coward.
I was the one he pitched upon to vent his spite, and when we would have passed him, he shouted in that squeaky