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Page 11
"I can tell you folks of something more about that retreat from
Concord," continued Davenport. "The story is generally known up around
the country here, but some of you may not have heard it. It's about old
Hezekiah Wyman, who gained the name of 'Death on the pale horse.'"
"I heard the story, and saw the old man on his white horse," remarked
Kinnison; "but it will interest the young men, no doubt--so drive on."
[Illustration: HEZEKIAH WYMAN.]
"Well, you see," began Davenport, "the window of old Hezekiah Wyman's
house looked out on the ground where the British shot our men at
Lexington. The old man saw the whole affair, and it made him so savage
that he vowed to revenge his countrymen if he fell in doing it.
"'Wife,' said he, 'is there not an old gun-barrel somewhere in the
garret.'
"'I believe there was,' said she; 'but pray what do you want with it?'
"'I should like to see if it is fit for service,' replied he. 'If I am
not mistaken, it is good enough to drill a hole through a rig'lar.'
"'Mercy on me, husband! are you going mad? An old man like you--sixty
years last November--to talk of going to war! I should think you had
seen enough of fighting the British already. There lies poor Captain Roe
and his men bleeding on the grass before your eyes. What could you do
with a gun?'
"The old man made no reply, but ascended the stairs, and soon returned
with a rusty barrel in his hands. In spite of his wife's incessant din,
he went to his shop, made a stock for it, and put it in complete order
for use. He then saddled a strong white horse, and mounted him. He gave
the steed the rein, and directed his course toward Concord. He met the
British troops returning, and was not long in perceiving that there was
a wasp's nest about their ears. He dashed so closely upon the flank of
the enemy that his horse's neck was drenched with the spouting blood of
the wounded soldiers. Then reining back his snorting steed to reload,
he dealt a second death upon the ranks with his never-failing bullet.
The tall, gaunt form of the assailant, his grey locks floating on the
breeze, and the color of his steed, soon distinguished him from the
other Americans, and the regulars gave him the name of 'Death on the
pale horse.' A dozen bullets whizzed by his head, when he made the first
assault, but, undismayed, the old patriot continued to prance his gay
steed over the heads of the foot-soldiers--to do his own business
faithfully, in the belief that, because others did wrong by firing at
him, it would be no excuse for him to do wrong by sparing the hireling
bullies of a tyrannical government. At length, a vigorous charge of the
bayonet drove the old man, and the party with which he was acting, far
from the main body of the British. Hezekiah was also out of ammunition,
and was compelled to pick up some on the road, before he could return to
the charge. He then came on again and picked off an officer, by sending
a slug through his royal brains, before he was again driven off. But
ever and anon, through the smoke that curled about the flanks of the
detachment, could be seen the white horse of the veteran for a
moment--the report of his piece was heard, and the sacred person of one
of his majesty's faithful subjects was sure to measure his length on
rebel ground. Thus did Hezekiah and his neighbors continue to harass the
retreating foe, until the Earl Percy appeared with a thousand fresh
troops from Boston. The two detachments of the British were now two
thousand strong, and they kept off the Americans with their artillery
while they took a hasty meal. No sooner had they again commenced their
march, than the powerful white horse was seen careering at full speed
over the hills, with the dauntless old yankee on his back.
"'Ha!' cried the soldiers, 'there comes that old fellow again, on the
white horse! Look out for yourselves, for one of us has got to die, in
spite of fate.' And one of them did die, for Hezekiah's aim was true,
and his principles of economy would not admit of his wasting powder or
ball. Throughout the whole of that bloody road between Lexington and
Cambridge, the fatal approaches of the white horse and his rider were
dreaded by the trained troops of Britain, and every wound inflicted by
Hezekiah needed no repeating. But on reaching Cambridge, the regulars,
greatly to their comfort, missed the old man and his horse. They
comforted themselves by the conjecture that he had, at length, paid the
forfeit of his temerity, and that his steed had gone home with a bloody
bridle and an empty saddle. Not so.--Hezekiah had only lingered for a
moment to aid in a plot which had been laid by Amni Cutter, for taking
the baggage-waggons and their guards. Amni had planted about fifty old
rusty muskets under a stone wall, with their muzzles directed toward the
road. As the waggons arrived opposite this battery, the muskets were
discharged, and eight horses, together with some soldiers, were sent out
of existence. The party of soldiers who had the baggage in charge ran to
a pond, and, plunging their muskets into the water, surrendered
themselves to an old woman, called Mother Barberick, who was at that
time digging roots in an adjacent field. A party of Americans recaptured
the gallant Englishmen from Mother Barberick, and placed them in safe
keeping. The captives were exceedingly astonished at the suddenness of
the attack, and declared that the yankees would rise up like musketoes
out of a marsh, and kill them. This chef d'oeuvre having been concluded,
the harassed soldiers were again amazed by the appearance of Hezekiah,
whose white horse was conspicuous among the now countless assailants
that sprang from every hill and ringing dale, copse and wood, through
which the bleeding regiments, like wounded snakes, held their toilsome
way. His fatal aim was taken, and a soldier fell at every report of his
piece. Even after the worried troops had entered Charlestown, there was
no escape for them from the deadly bullets of the restless veteran. The
appalling white horse would suddenly and unexpectedly dash out from a
brake, or from behind a rock, and the whizzing of his bullet was the
precursor of death. He followed the enemy to their very boats; and then,
turning his horse's head, returned unharmed to his household.
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