The Young Continentals at Lexington

For an instant only did Nat Brewster stand still; the British battalion, pushing forward, forced him on. But as the boy still remained at his side, Nat clutched him by the arm and demanded:

“If that is Ezra Prentiss, who are you?”

The other looked at him squarely; even through the trouble that was plain in his face, a flicker of amusement showed at Nat’s amazement.

“I am his twin brother, George,” he answered, quietly.

At this Nat was almost overwhelmed once more. Then his mind began to work like lightning. He had been mistaken all along. It was this brother—this twin, who looked so astonishingly like Ezra—who had figured in all the incidents which he had accepted as proof of treachery. One by one he began to go over them; but just then he was aroused by Major Pitcairn calling sternly and at the top of his voice:

“Disperse, ye rebels! Lay down your arms!”

All else was instantly forgotten; the drama being enacted before his eyes was more compelling than even his exciting thoughts. Once more the command rang out:

“Why don’t ye lay down your arms, ye villains! Disperse, I tell you.”

But the two thin lines of alarm men held their ground. Then came the report of a musket; Nat saw a British infantryman, his piece at his shoulder, the smoke curling from its muzzle. Another and another shot rang out from the battalion. Pitcairn, frantic with passion, turned upon his men and shouted for them to cease firing. But it was too late.

A scattered volley came from the rifles of the minutemen; Pitcairn’s horse went down with a crash, and the bullets drove above the massed infantry, doing no other harm. Then the British began platoon firing, in regular order, calm, methodical and effective. The patriots responded from behind stone walls and other sheltered places which they had now broken for; and as the leaden messengers began to whistle about his ears, Nat heard a voice say:

“I think we had better get out of this. It is getting a little too warm for comfort.”

It was Ezra’s brother who spoke; and as he saw Nat dart a quick glance about at the soldiery, he added:

“They are too much engaged now to pay any attention to us. But we must be quick.”

So with that the two darted out of the road and behind some buildings. Like deer they raced along the streets, now filled with terrified women and weeping children.

The firing abruptly ceased; and in another moment they noted a little body of minutemen in retreat across a swamp to the north of the Common. Upon a piece of rising ground the boys halted; they saw a full score of dead and wounded lying upon the village green and the huzzas of the British came faintly to their ears.

“You see,” said Nat. “I was right.”

“And I was wrong,” answered the other. “I was wrong from the beginning. But,” with a sudden lift of the head, “they have not yet reached the end. Chesbrook and some others deceived me shamefully up to this. But at Concord I’ll try to prove to them that they can do so no longer.”

“Come, then,” said Nat, briefly. “Here is the road. In a little while the British will be once more on the march.”

The two lads faced the way to Concord and went off at a long, swinging lope. The pace was not a hard one, but it took them swiftly over the ground. They had covered some two of the six miles when figures were seen ahead in the uncertain early light of the April morning.

“Halt!” rang out a sharp voice. They saw the long barrel of a rifle poked out from behind a tree at the wayside and cover them. But only for a moment. Then there was a sharp exclamation, the muzzle was lowered and a form leaped into the road.

“George!” cried a voice.

“Ezra!” replied Nat’s companion; and the next instant the two brothers stood with clasped hands, looking into each other’s eyes. But after a moment Ezra turned to Nat.

“Now,” said he, gravely. “You understand?”

Nat held out his hand.

“I beg your pardon,” said he, simply, as they shook hands. “But,” as the thought came to him, “why did you not explain it all when you saw that I suspected you?”

“If I had,” spoke Ezra, “is it a thing you would have believed?”

Nat reflected and then shook his head.

“It is more than likely not,” he replied.

As the brothers turned to each other once more and began to speak low and earnestly together, Nat looked expectantly along the road to where he had seen the figures ahead. They were now coming anxiously toward him, and with delight he recognized Paul Revere and Ben Cooper. Advancing to meet them, he gripped their hands warmly.

“Hot work back there,” said Revere, nodding his head in the direction of Lexington.

“You succeeded in arousing the towns, I see,” spoke Nat.

“Thanks to your message to Dr. Warren—yes. But I almost made a failure of it at the very start; for I had not gone far on the road through Charlestown, when two British officers, who seemed to be patroling the road, popped out upon me. But Deacon Larkin’s horse was a good one, and I escaped, going through Medford and alarming almost every house on the way to Lexington. At Clark’s, where you and I went together a few days ago, I roused Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams; and while they were getting ready to leave, William Dawes, who was also sent out to spread the alarm, arrived. He and I set off to Concord to continue our work, and on the road met a young man named Prescott who agreed to give us his help.

“A little farther along here,” and Revere pointed up the road, “the other two stopped at a house to awake a man; but I rode on, and I had scarcely gone two hundred yards when I ran suddenly into a nest of British officers who clapped pistols to my head and bid me stop.”

“And you did?” laughed Ben Cooper.

“Can you doubt it?” asked Revere. “But let me go on. They took down some bars and led me into a pasture; there they threatened me with pistols once more and demanded to know who I was and upon what errand I was riding.”

“But you did not tell them,” said Nat.

“I did,” declared Revere, proudly; “and in return I suffered great abuse. But one of the officers seemed much of a gentleman, for he said to me that none should do me harm. What I told them seemed to startle them much; they started toward Lexington with me in the midst of them, my horse being led and a man with a drawn pistol on each side of me. We were nearing a meeting-house when we heard a gun fired and a bell begin to ring.

“Then they took my horse and dashed away toward Cambridge, leaving me standing in the road. I returned at once to Clark’s. Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams had not yet gone, and I warned them of what had occurred. They departed at once from the house, I going with them several miles on the way. Mr. Hancock then told me of a trunk filled with papers which he had left at the village inn and asked me if I’d return for it. After I had rested a bit, I did so and Ezra and Ben bore me company.”

“And where did you come upon them?” asked Nat.

“They were at Mr. Clark’s when I returned there, and were urging Mr. Adams and his friend to flee.”

Nat turned to Ben, a question in his eye. But Ben laughed.

“I know what you’re going to ask me,” he said. “But I’ll not answer, for I think,” with a nod of the head toward the Prentiss brothers, who stood some little distance off, “there is a great deal for you to hear, and as my little story is mixed up with it, you’d better hear all together.”

Nat noticed that while Revere and Ben both kept casting marveling glances at the twins, neither of them seemed greatly astonished.

“Is it possible that you have known of this twin brother all along?” he demanded.

“Not I,” and Revere shook his head. “I heard of him for the first time last night.”

“And I,” said Ben Cooper, “never knew of his existence until after I left Boston last fall.”

They were all three looking attentively at the brothers when the latter turned. Nat Brewster never saw a more delighted look upon the face of any one than was upon that of Ezra Prentiss at that moment.

“He looks,” whispered the young mountaineer to Ben, “as though the most pleasant thing in the world had happened to him.”

“You have no trouble telling one from the other, then,” smiled Ben.

“Not now. Together I can see a difference. But,” hesitatingly, “if they were separated I might be puzzled once more.”

“That’s usually the case in the matter of twins,” said Ben.

“Ben,” said Ezra, as they came up, “this is my brother George—George, this is Ben Cooper, and Mr. Revere.”

The three named shook hands; then Ezra continued, addressing Nat and Revere:

“There is a great deal to explain to you and to others of my friends, who have seen and heard things that—that they have not understood. Ben has known something of it, but as you two have not, I’ll begin at the beginning; and if there are any places where the light does not strike, don’t hesitate to speak of it.”

“Excuse me,” interrupted Paul Revere. “But there is a chest of important papers in the bushes some little distance up the road, that needs careful carrying to Concord. And as the British may happen along at any time now we’d better be off with it.”

“You are right,” said Ezra, “and the story will keep until we get under way.”

The five hastened forward; the chest was dragged from its hiding-place; Nat and Revere each seized a handle and off they set, trudging manfully. They had gone but a little distance when Nat said to Ezra:

“Now for it; I’m so full of curiosity that I can wait no longer.”

“You see,” began Ezra, “George has been brought up by our grandfather, who is a Tory. All his friends have been king’s men and he has been taught to believe in British rule. As for myself, I have always been a strong Whig like my father—so strong a one,” and he colored a little, “that I never spoke of my brother, fearing that some one would learn of his way of thought.”

“I was always as strong an American as you, Ezra,” said George, smiling. “Our methods were different, that’s all.”

“Perhaps so,” answered Ezra. “But, you know, it is how we apply our beliefs that counts.” Addressing himself to the others, he went on: “When the trouble commenced, George began acting with our enemies. I pleaded with him, but he would not listen. He said I had been led away by demagogues—for such he had been taught to believe Mr. Adams and Dr. Warren. When I set out for Philadelphia I learned that he had formed the plan to take John and Samuel Adams on the road and that he was ahead of me.”

“And you left your party as it neared the city,” said Nat, understanding, “that you might overtake him.”

“Exactly,” said Ezra, eagerly.

And then he went on to account for his absence from the City Tavern at Philadelphia on the night that Ben first called to see him, in the same way. George had laughingly told him that Washington and Henry would soon be prisoners, and not daring to inform any one of the facts for fear and shame of what might befall his brother, Ezra had set about to follow him and thwart the plan alone.

Nat laughed when Ezra came to their conversation upon the pavement before the City Tavern, in Philadelphia.

“And to think that you were only trying to tell me that Washington and his friends would probably remember my work to my advantage and that the Tories would do the reverse,” said he. “I understood it as a threat. When you referred to it afterward on the road to Bristol you meant, I see now, to show that you were grateful to me. But do you know, I was convinced just the other way about.”

The boy that the Porcupine had seen leave the Cooper place in the night and make his way toward Cliveden had, of course, been Ezra, still in search of his brother; but the one whom he saw in consultation with Mr. Chew and Mr. Dimisdale had been George. The nervousness of Ezra upon the road to Bristol was because he feared just what Nat’s keen eyes showed to exist—an ambush. He had begged Revere to take an unfrequented road, thinking to escape one; but the Tories had out-thought him.

“I knew from your cold manner,” said Ezra to Nat, “that you believed me guilty of treachery; but I could not explain it to you, as you can now see. But Mr. Adams knew all, for I had told him everything; and when Dr. Warren’s letter reached Philadelphia he was, of course, not surprised. However, we thought it best to keep the matter strictly to ourselves. I told Ben a part, as I have said, that he might be enabled to work with me intelligently when we returned to Boston the second time.”

“We had formed a compact,” said Ben, laughing and turning to George, who had been listening soberly, only now and then adding a few words to the story, “to save you from the British. And we’ve been quietly on your trail ever since we came north.”

“I felt that some one was,” returned George. Then he reached out and put his hand upon Ezra’s shoulder. “So all the things that I have done have fallen upon you!” he said with feeling. “Forgive me, Ezra, if you can; and believe me that the possibility of such a thing never entered my mind until this morning.”

For answer, Ezra patted him upon the back encouragingly.

“Never mind that,” said he. “It’s all over now.”

“Yes,” returned George, firmly; “it’s all over; and anything I do in the future, Ezra, even so warm a patriot as yourself will not be ashamed of.”

Now and then they were overtaken by horsemen, or wagons containing people, heading for Concord; and Nat smiled to see that all bore rifles and that their faces wore looks of determination.

“There were only a few of us at Lexington,” cried a young farmer as he tore by upon a plough horse, “but there will be a different story to tell farther on.”

Now and then the strong box changed hands; but the five never stopped for anything else, tramping steadily on until they sighted the town.

Concord at that time was a fair-sized place and contained a church, a jail and a court-house. There were two spans across the river, one called the Old South and the other the Old North Bridge. The parade ground was near the meeting-house, and upon it were companies of minutemen, their ranks constantly swelling, and even now being put through their routine by careful officers. Anxious inquiry on the part of Revere told them that the last of the stores had been carted away to safe hiding-places hours before; and also that the militia at Lincoln was already upon the ground.

“Now,” said Nat to Ben Cooper, after Mr. Hancock’s property had been placed in security, “let us stand close together in whatever befalls. Because if you get away from me again, of course you’ll not take the trouble to hunt me up.”

The latter part of this speech was uttered in a jesting tone, but for all that Ben saw that his cousin more than half meant it.

“You know, Nat,” said Ben, “it was not altogether my fault that I did not find you at once upon my return to these parts. But you had left the ‘Dragon’ and I did not care to make inquiries of Dr. Warren or Mr. Revere because—well, because I knew that Ezra would rather I should not.”

At Revere’s solicitation, rifles were given to Ben, George, Nat and himself, also powder and ball; then they hurried out to join the patriot band upon the square. A party of the Lincoln minutemen had gone forward on the Lexington road to meet the British, but they now came pouring back into the town.

“The ministerial troops are only about two miles away,” announced the Lincoln captain, William Smith, “and they are more than treble the number of all that we can muster!”

With that the entire American force fell back to an eminence behind the town and formed in two battalions. Colonel Barrett, who had worked all the night superintending the removal of the stores, joined them here and at once placed himself in touch with the situation.

“I am none too soon,” remarked this officer, pointing with his hanger down the Lexington road. “Here they are, and marching as though they meant to finish us without delay.”

Sure enough the British had come in sight. The early sunshine struck their burnished arms and they glittered bravely in response; the red coats, white cross belts and high head pieces added to the gallant appearance of the compact column. Hotheads among the Americans were for at once offering battle. But the wise Colonel Barrett shook his head.

“Just now,” said he, “they are too strong for us. Men are flocking in from all points of the compass; in a short time we’ll be able to make a stand, but not yet.”

So he ordered a retreat across the North Bridge to another eminence which was about a mile from the center of the town.

The British advanced into Concord, and at once the North Bridge was secured by two hundred men. Six companies were sent to destroy the magazines of stores, but, for the most part, found them empty. In the center of the town they seized and broke open some threescore of barrels of flour, knocked off the trunnions of three cannons, burnt some wheels, newly made for gun carriages, and also a few barrels of wooden trenchers and spoons.

While this was going forward, the British all the while conducting themselves after the fashion of people highly amused, the alarm men were flocking to the hill outside. They came from Carlisle, from Chelmsford, from Westford, Littleton and Acton. They were lined up in rough order to the number of almost five hundred when several pillars of black smoke began to mount from Concord, and a cry of rage at once arose from the colonial force.

“They are burning the town!” was the cry.

Colonel Barrett, who had been calmly studying the situation, now decided to act.

“The guard at the North Bridge must be dislodged,” said he curtly. “Who will volunteer?”

A mighty shout went up. With a face shining with pleasure, the leader at once told off the companies he desired for the service. Major John Buttrick was placed in command, and to the number of some three hundred, the party started down the hill in double file and with trailed arms.

“You are required to cross the North Bridge,” were the commander’s last words to Major Buttrick; “but do not fire upon the king’s troops unless they fire upon you.”

Nat, Ben Cooper, Ezra and his brother were all with the party. Nat and Ezra marched shoulder to shoulder and as they neared the river, the latter said in a low tone:

“I suppose this is a more or less dangerous undertaking, but do you know, I have never been so glad to do anything in my life.”

“We are all glad to get a chance to back up our words, I suppose,” answered Nat.

“It’s not that altogether,” said Ezra.

And Nat saw the look which the speaker gave the unconscious George, who was trudging determinedly forward, his cartridge box pulled round ready to his hand.

“He’s going to get a chance to prove that he is a patriot at heart like the rest of us,” said Ezra. “And,” contentedly, “I have no fear but that he will.”

“Nor I,” said Nat, assuringly.

The two hundred British were upon the west side of the river; but upon seeing the provincials approach, they retired to the east side and formed for a fight; also a detachment was sent to tear up the planks of the bridge.

Seeing that this must be prevented, Major Buttrick called upon them to stop, but as they paid no heed, he said sharply to his command:

“Forward, lads, at the quick!”

The colonists increased their pace. Instantly a rattle of musketry came from the king’s men. A fifer in the Acton company dropped with a bullet through him; almost immediately Captain Davis and a private of the same company were killed. Seeing the deadly effect of the volley, the American leader cried:

“Fire, fellow soldiers, fire!”

The American riflemen at once obeyed; as the leaden couriers began to whistle about them the British fell into great confusion and retreated back upon their main body. With defiant shouts, part of the colonists crossed the bridge and took up a position on a hill commanding the main road; the others, bearing their dead, returned to their starting point, and all rested upon their arms watching the redcoats like hawks.

By this time it was well upon noon, and while Concord was holding the column in check, the news of the hostile march of the king’s troops was spreading rapidly through all sections round about, and hundreds of men were hastening toward the scene of action. All the roads that led to Concord were thick with them; they carried the firelock that perhaps had fought the Indian and the drum that beat defiance to the French at Louisburg. And they were led by men who had served with Wolfe at Quebec and suffered the rigors of the seven years’ war.

At noon, Lieutenant-Colonel Smith concluded that nothing further was to be gained by an advance; so he gave the word that the column fall back toward Lexington and Boston. His left was covered by a strong flank guard that kept the height that borders the Lexington road; his right was protected by a stream of water. They had not gone very far when they began to understand how thoroughly the country had been aroused. It seemed as though men dropped from the very clouds. From behind every tree, every stump, every rock, a rifle spat its anger at them.

Near Hardy’s Hill, the Sudbury company attacked the British flank guard; there was a fierce fight on the old road north of the schoolhouse. Here the way was lined with woods upon both sides and the minutemen swarmed upon them from this shelter like gnats. A guard on the left flank was ordered out in desperation; but it proved only a fairer mark to shoot at, and was instantly ordered back.

This woody defile stretched away for three or four miles, and while in it the British suffered terribly.

“From their look,” said Nat Brewster, reloading his piece and wiping the sweat from his face, “they have ceased to regard their expedition as a sort of excursion.”

Ezra Prentiss, to whom these words were addressed, raised his rifle to his shoulder and its report was added to the din.

“And, I think,” said he coolly, as he thrust his hand into his pocket for another cartridge, “that they will never start upon such another one again.”

It was at this point that Woburn added one hundred and eighty men to the little provincial army; at Lincoln, the Lexington company again appeared upon the field.

The British carried the greater part of their wounded, but the dead were left in the road behind them. At Lexington, Lieutenant-Colonel Smith was shot in the leg. Here, also, the British found that their ammunition was fast failing; the men were growing so fatigued as to be almost unfit for service; confusion began to grow among them and their officers were compelled at times to threaten them with drawn pistols, to keep them in order.

Under the murderous fire sustained by the Americans the column was at last halted and formed into a hollow square to await the reinforcement which Colonel Smith had sent for at daylight. It was here that Lord Percy, at the head of three regiments of infantry, two divisions of marines and carrying two field-pieces came upon them, harassed, worn and almost upon the point of surrender. Percy himself had had no easy time in advancing to the rescue. He had found the planks of the Cambridge bridge taken up to delay his crossing the river; then the patriots had cut off his provision train and left his men to the hunger of the march.

At once the field-pieces began to play upon the colonists; houses and other buildings were fired wantonly in Lexington, others upon the route of the retreat, now resumed, were broken into and plundered.

Dr. Warren had joined the patriots just before the arrival of Percy; and in the midst of the party that came with him the boys were delighted to find the Porcupine, perched upon a tall horse and with a huge pistol in his belt. At sight of them he grinned and smoothed back his stiff crest of hair.

“Had quite a time getting here,” said he, “but it’s worth all the trouble. I’ve always wished I’d have a chance to get in the first fight, and I hope it’s come true!”

“You’re here in time,” said Nat, with a laugh. “The troops that have just come up look fresh and full of spirit, so it is not all over yet.”

But though Lord Percy had almost two thousand men in all, he showed no disposition to do anything but get safely back to Boston. Dr. Warren rallied the patriots, who had been shaken by the cannon, and they pressed relentlessly after the invaders.

“Keep up a brave heart,” said Warren to the riflemen. “They began it; but see to it, lads, that we end it.”

Through West Cambridge they fought. Again the British ammunition ran short, and the field-pieces became silent. At Charlestown the main body of the patriots hung upon their rear and another force was marching upon them from Roxbury, Dorchester and Milton.

It was sundown when the harassed column staggered down the old Cambridge road to Charlestown Neck, fighting every step of the way, but glad to find protection at last under the guns of their ships of war. Out of gunshot, the provincials halted; but there they hung like a cloud, ominous and dark in the twilight. Next day the shattered battalions crossed into the city; and at once the Americans tightened their line; at once the work began of making the militia and the minutemen a compact fighting machine of the sort whose operations would spell victory.

It was the next morning that the five boys stood upon the hill and watched the sun come up over the city.

“Well,” said Nat, “we’ve got them walled up in Boston.”

“Yes,” replied Ezra Prentiss, as his sober gaze dwelt upon the still slumbering town. “And it will not be a great while before we drive them ever from there.”

And the events of the days to follow proved him to be a true prophet.

THE END