CHAPTER XVII
A SAFE PORT
At the announcement of Ralph Post, Andy Sabine almost uttered a yell. His fists went up in the air clenched, and his eyes flashed.
"Nobody get into Boston? Nobody get out of Boston?" he cried. "Gen. Gage's orders—the Britishers bossing the country! Why, we'll sweep them off the face of the earth!"
Ralph Post smiled indulgently at Andy's ferocious patriotic outburst. Phil placed a restraining hand on the shoulder of his excitable comrade. The next instant of thought, however, made Phil take the situation very seriously. A wave of anxiety crossed his face as he thought of the folks at home. Then he eagerly turned to his cousin, feeling that he had further revelations to make.
"Tell all about it," he said, but Ralph replied:
"You get to a fire, you two. Why you look half-perished. I fancy," he added dryly to Andy, "you won't start to wipe out those Boston tyrants until you've got dry clothes and a good meal."
"I'm fighting mad, all the same," muttered Andy, and then, a thought of their last adventure crossing his mind, he added with an exultant grin: "Those Tories will have one less boat to guard Boston, anyhow."
Phil thought he had never been so delightfully comfortable, as when a few minutes later he and Andy occupied two old-fashioned armchairs in front of a blazing kitchen fireplace big enough to hold a couple of cords of wood. Meantime Ralph hustled about the room, pulling out a table, diving into a pantry and placing on the hob a coffee pot.
"Don't seem to be a bit curious," said Andy, in an undertone to Phil.
"Oh, he is dying to know all about our story," answered Phil, "only I guess a look at us tells him we have just gone through some tough adventure, and he is thinking of our comfort first and foremost. You see, Andy, Ralph is a fellow of experience. He was on a trading vessel for two years. He's been twice to Europe and once clear to China. It would make the hair rise on your head to hear of some of his thrilling escapes. I reckon he's been so used to have sailors come into the galley on board ship to eat and rest when working in some terrific storm, that he can't break the habit of filling up a fellow and getting him nice and cozy before he sits down to chat."
Soon, however, they were chatting like three magpies. Ralph was a capital cook. In a jiffy he had a royal spread, consisting of a dishful of boiled eggs, bread and butter and steaming coffee, before his guests. He sat down then, looking them over with a curious glance, but saying nothing until with a sigh of rare content Phil put down his knife and fork, with the remark:
"That was simply fine."
"Best ever!" added Andy with enthusiasm.
"Things are bad," said Ralph bluntly, bolting into a subject he knew naturally to be the one then uppermost in the minds of his young friends. "It's war, boys, swift and sure. Everybody has waked up. Why, for two nights we haven't even been in bed at this house. There are friends coming from all directions, couriers arriving, messages sent out. Mr. Eaton has made a kind of office of the best room here. Two men from Lexington arrived just before you did. They are massing some military stores there, and men, too, and Gen. Gage has to make just one more move of tyranny to have the Colonial army march down on Boston and drive him out of it."
"What has the general been doing?" inquired Andy.
"He had a plot to capture and hang all of the patriotic leaders. Somehow, the plot failed."
Phil and Andy exchanged gratified glances. Each was filled with a thrill of gladness as they were moved with the mutual idea that their humble exertions had something to do with this favorable aspect of the case.
"Gage has been planting spies and massing secret supplies all over the colony," went on Ralph. "The main trouble in organizing our army has been in getting arms and ammunition. Why, in some districts the British agents have bought up all the loose powder in the country stores. Some of it they hid, and a lot of it they burned up."
"The rascals!" flared up Andy.
"Three days ago," pursued Ralph, "we got word that Gage was ready to make some big move. We couldn't find out his plans. Day before yesterday the first part of his plan came down upon the colony like a thunder clap. He put Boston in a state of blockade, martial law was ordered. As I told you, no one could leave or come into Boston without a Tory passport."
"Why was that, I wonder?" murmured Andy.
"Why, to prevent the outside colonists from getting word from the city. Yesterday a courier reached Mr. Eaton, and then went on to warn Lexington, Concord and the other principal towns. The redcoats are drilling, massing and getting ready to leave Boston for a raid on outside towns. We don't know exactly when they are going to strike, but we shall know before they leave."
"How? Why?" spoke Andy in rapt interest.
"We have men inside the lines who are watching every move of the British. The moment they make a definite start, a signal will be given to our agents just outside of Boston. Then the arrangements are such that the news will be spread to the outside towns like wildfire."
Andy was so wrought up that he was pacing the floor restlessly while Ralph was talking. Phil was thinking of his folks and his friends. Phil knew more about Boston than Ralph or Andy. He realized more than they did the seriousness of the high-handed outrage on the part of the Tories in striving to subdue the valiant spirits of the patriots. He knew that the effect of such action would be to deeply arouse the Musket Boys of Boston to the fighting fever point.
"There will be bloodshed," he said with conviction, to himself. "If the war never breaks out, this will lead to trouble for the redcoats." Then Phil thought of something else, and arose to his feet with the words: "Ralph, I have something important to tell Mr. Eaton."
"Hold on, though," was the response—"you've a story to tell first. Where have you been? Your folks have been inquiring for you everywhere. They have been worried to death about you."
Phil detailed the various experiences of his friend and himself since they had left Concord. Ralph's face worked with interest as they told of the adventure at the Lowell town hall. It was when they came to their imprisonment on the Vixen and their escape in the sailboat, that he became so excited that he could scarcely sit still.
"Grand!" was his comment, when Phil told of the cutting of the cable. "Superb!" he added, when they related how they had sailed the boat into Sandy Creek. "Famous!" he fairly shouted, when Phil narrated the run across the swamp lake.
"And there she stuck," concluded Andy, breaking in on the narrative. "There she is now, and nobody knows how many kegs of powder and how many muskets she has aboard."
"Boys," said Ralph starting for the front of the house in a state of intense excitement, "You've done a big thing. Just one or two clever tricks like this, and we'll be able to whip the Tories and the redcoats with our hands behind our backs!"