|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 55
"Turn out, you lobster-backs!" one would say. "Crowd them off the
side-walks!" another would cry. "A red-coat has no right in Boston
streets."
"Oh, you rebel rascals!" perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring
fiercely at the young men. "Some day or other, we'll make our way
through Boston streets, at the point of the bayonet!"
Once or twice, such disputes as these brought on a scuffle; which passed
off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o'clock, for
some unknown cause, an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly.
At the sound, many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an
alarm of fire. But there were no flames to be seen; nor was there any
smell of smoke in the clear, frosty air; so that most of the townsmen
went back to their own fire-sides, and sat talking with their wives and
children about the calamities of the times. Others, who were younger
and less prudent, remained in the streets; for there seems to have been
a presentiment that some strange event was on the eve of taking place.
Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, several young men
passed by the town-house, and walked down King Street. The sentinel was
still on his post, in front of the custom-house, pacing to and fro,
while, as he turned, a gleam of light, from some neighboring window,
glittered on the barrel of his musket. At no great distance were the
barracks and the guard-house, where his comrades were probably telling
stories of battle and bloodshed.
Down towards the custom-house, as I told you, came a party of wild young
men. When they drew near the sentinel, he halted on his post, and took
his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their
breasts.
"Who goes there?" he cried, in the gruff, peremptory tones of a
soldier's challenge.
The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk
their own streets, without being accountable to a British red-coat, even
though he challenged them in King George's name. They made some rude
answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or, perhaps a scuffle.
Other soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily from the barracks, to
assist their comrade. At the same time, many of the town's-people rushed
into King Street, by various avenues, and gathered in a crowd round
about the custom-house. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had
started up, all of a sudden.
The wrongs and insults, which the people had been suffering for many
months, now kindled them into a rage. They threw snow-balls and lumps of
ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder, it reached the ears of
Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight
soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They
marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd,
and pricking the town's-people with their bayonets.
A gentleman, (it was Henry Knox, afterwards general of the American
artillery,) caught Captain Preston's arm.
"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, take heed what you do, or here
will be bloodshed."
"Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston, haughtily. "Do not interfere,
sir. Leave me to manage the affair."
Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a
semi-circle, with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the
custom-house. "When the people saw the officer, and beheld the
threatening attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their rage
became almost uncontrollable.
"Fire, you lobster-backs!" bellowed some.
"You dare not fire, you cowardly red-coats," cried others.
"Rush upon them!" shouted many voices. "Drive the rascals to their
barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire, if they dare!"
Amid the uproar, the soldiers stood glaring at the people, with the
fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood.
Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment, the angry
feelings between England and America might have been pacified. England
had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and acknowledge that
she had hitherto mistaken her rights but would do so no more. Then, the
ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together, as
firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty, which had grown as strong
as instinct, was not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the victories
won, in the Old French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought
side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten
yet. England was still that beloved country which the colonists called
their home. King George, though he had frowned upon America, was still
reverenced as a father.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|