The Young Continentals at Lexington

As Nat Brewster and the dwarf breathlessly watched, the newcomers at the coffee-house in Orange Street were taken in hand by the same attentive servant who had waited upon the boys; and he pulled back chairs for them at a table only a few feet distant. They briefly made known what they desired and when the waiter had taken himself off, the tall man, after surveying his companion, said:

“Well, I suppose you are glad to get back to Boston?”

“Can you doubt it?” laughed the boy, his elbows upon the table, his chin in his palms. “It seems that this is the only place in which I can accomplish anything.”

The tall man nodded as though he agreed perfectly with this saying.

“It seems so indeed,” replied he. “You had the long journey to Philadelphia practically for nothing.”

“And I don’t know when I worked harder,” said the other. “But everything seemed against my success—especially this Nat Brewster.”

A sour, vindictive look came into the man’s face; his curved nose seemed more hawk-like than ever and his thin lips were set in a straight line.

“As far as I have been able to judge,” went on the boy, “young Brewster is quite a person.”

The dwarf jogged Nat’s elbow and grinned up at him, but the young mountaineer shook his head warningly.

“Well, he was person enough to give me a nasty fall from the top of that porch,” said the tall man, morosely.

The lad across the table laughed amusedly.

“Never mind, Chesbrook,” said he. “Your hurts will heal. And then you got them in a good cause. It’s not for a lieutenant in the royal navy to make faces about a few bruises.”

“Perhaps,” remarked Lieutenant Chesbrook, “if it were you that had the same hurts, you wouldn’t be so apt to laugh about them.”

“Maybe not,” returned the lad. “But Brewster did not get off unmarked.”

This time the man laughed.

“That Neapolitan strikes a hard blow,” said he.

“Friend Nat is going about with a bandage around his head, at any rate. But he is toughly made, and I think would stand a great deal of rough usage.”

“I may put him to the test if he remains in Boston long,” said Chesbrook, grimly. “And as for that imp who came down upon us with the dog, I’ll be the death of him. The bites which the beast gave me before I could get out of its reach are worse than the other injuries by far.”

“Well, he’s a brisk little villain, that dwarf, for all,” laughed the boy. “I wish he were as fast a friend to me as he is to Nat Brewster. I could make use of him.”

“But what I complain of worse than anything else,” continued the lieutenant, “is the fact that all my hurts are for nothing.”

“But you got a pair of very excellent saddle-bags,” laughingly.

“If you had not valued those boys so lightly,” complained the lieutenant, “it would not have been necessary to resort to this last plan of yours.”

The other nodded. The laughter quickly vanished from his face and an expression of vexation took its place.

“You are right,” he said. “And as it was, to have broken into the inn at Bristol and taken the message by force would have been the proper way of going about it.”

“Don’t forget that our friend Royce tried something of the sort only an hour or so south of the town. His success was no greater than mine.”

“He did not count upon resistance. If he had, there would probably be a different story to tell.”

“Not count upon resistance!” The lieutenant laughed heartily. “Well, that’s an odd sort of way of setting out upon a venture. He and his men were armed, were they not? Then they must have thought of a possible resistance. But,” sneeringly, “when the time came, they were afraid to fire.”

There was a short silence, during which time their food was served them. When the waiter had once more departed, the man proceeded:

“When I got the news of Royce’s failure in the matter of the men from Virginia, I lost faith in him. He allowed himself to be beaten by a boy and a few grooms.”

“I don’t think his courage can be doubted.”

“Perhaps not. But his qualities as a leader can. If a competent man had been on hand to carry out that enterprise we would have broken the heart of this growing rebellion at one blow.”

“So I think, too. But,” and a deep shade of anxiety came into the speaker’s face, “as matters stand now, it looks very bad, eh?”

“General Gage thinks so, at any rate. You know when he first arrived to take the governorship of the colony of Massachusetts Bay, he had a very poor opinion of Americans. Indeed, he still pretends to think the same. His letters to the king’s ministers, so I hear, still maintain that the colonists are cowards, that they will not fight, that they will not hold together long enough to make this movement serious, that they are mere blusterers who think to bully the king into doing what they ask. But it’s common talk aboard ship, at least, that he’s grown anxious. When he sends troops beyond the limits of the city, though they go bravely enough, with flying colors and to the music of their bands, he does not know if they will return alive, or no.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that the towns all about are very determined.”

“And they show their determination in a practical way by taking all the ammunition from the public magazines and hiding it away for their own use. All the cannon they can lay hold of are used the same way; those guns which they have not succeeded in carrying off, they’ve spiked or thrown into streams. And, I may add, that the spirit which sets mothers, wives and daughters to moulding musket-balls for a defence of what they call their country’s rights, is one hard to put down.”

“But why does not General Gage make an effort to stop all this?”

“How can he? Massachusetts must first be overawed by a huge army—which Gage has not at command—before any sort of successful measures can be taken. To attempt it now might cost a thousand lives. And I know,” added the man, with a grim smile, “that you wouldn’t care to see that.”

“No, no,” replied the boy, his face going pale. “I think that above all else open war must be prevented.”

“Gage is willing enough to let matters stand as they are. He thinks that in the end the people will become more divided and the whole matter settle itself. But the Tories are at him constantly to take measures. Nothing will do them but that their Whig neighbors shall be hanged or punished in some equally vigorous way; and they also demand that expeditions be sent to suppress the outlying towns. Up to this time, the governor has resisted them; but I hardly think he is man enough to continue to do so.”

Then for a long time the two ate their food in silence. Then the man asked:

“You are living at Cambridge, I suppose.”

“Yes,” replied the other.

“And still hold yourself in readiness to answer our call.”

“You know that I do.”

“Good! If all in Massachusetts were half so ready to prevent an outbreak as you, we’d need to have no fear of the result.”

Finally they arose and paid their score. While awaiting change for the gold piece which Lieutenant Chesbrook had given the waiter, that officer asked:

“But you intend to return to Philadelphia, do you not?”

“If there is a message from the Adamses, I will,” replied the boy.

And with that their change came; then the two walked out of the place, while Nat and the Porcupine sat staring at each other across their table.