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diff --git a/78156-0.txt b/78156-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d22bd8 --- /dev/null +++ b/78156-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,739 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78156 *** + + +[Illustration] + + + TRIAL BY FIRE + + By Ernest Haycox + +Doctor Brent was up early that morning on a call to the widow Potter’s, +a mile or so down the road from his own house. In fact a very frightened +young Potter grandson had come a-tapping on his door quite before dawn +and brought him back to the fevered old lady. The doctor exercised his +skill, waited for a more favorable sign from the patient and then, near +breakfast, got upon his horse and returned slowly toward his own hearth, +meditating a little upon the wonderful vitality of these simple-living +New England people. + +The day promised to be hot. There was in the air that forecast of +sultriness not uncommon to June weather, and over in the direction of +Boston town the sun hovered below the sea’s edge, striking upward with +its blood-red rays. The doctor, rubbing his ruddy cheeks, wondered how +Gage and his soldiers enjoyed their forced idleness in the town. His +professional instinct led him to emit a small cluck of pity. + +“Poor ----,” he murmured, bending in the saddle, “they’ll be sadly +needing fresh foods. I doubt not there’s much scurvy and camp disease +among them.” + +Well, he mused, it was a great deal Gage’s own fault. He had permitted +himself to be cooped up and surrounded by a half-organized patriot army. +The doctor, whose opinions were staunchly Tory, frowned. He had thought +this was going to be a stalemate and that after a time the farmers, +collecting their better senses and cooling their rage following the +affair of Lexington and Concord, would disperse and go back to their +occupations. It was not so. Old Artemas Ward commanded an army of +sixteen thousand men, stretched from Charlestown Neck to Dorchester way. +And night before last there had been whisperings of a sortie against the +British. The air seemed to have grown more charged with desperate +possibilities in the forty-eight hours elapsing. It was murmured, too, +that the Committee of Safety had come to a bold decision and had given +Ward his moving orders. But where and when? From Medford to Roxbury the +countryside was in a ferment of anticipation, and the tag ends of rumors +and fears came back to the doctor in a most tantalizing and distressing +form. + +The horse quickened his pace. The doctor emerged from his thoughts and +raised his head to perceive a strange sight along the road. It had +grown quite light now, and the sun’s top quarter was above the horizon. +Ahead of him in the road, raising the dust as they traveled, advanced a +group of men. Not in formation, but in ones and twos and small parties; +stringing along at greater and lesser intervals as far as the winding +highway could be viewed. The doctor’s surprised eyes counted perhaps +two score such, and momentarily he noted others straggling out of the +farmhouses by the wayside, all setting their faces in the common +direction. + +What seemed stranger still was the equipment they carried. Each, so far +down the road as Doctor Brent could distinguish, had some sort of game +or provision pouch thrown over the shoulder. Each had his powder horn +and cartridge box. In one hand was the inevitable musket. And as the +foremost came upon the amazed doctor he saw that their countenances +were almost uniformly patterned. Some seemed dourer than others and +some seemed highly excited; he began to distinguish angry voices in the +foremost group and mild voices. But all were of a resolved countenance, +quite as if they had deliberated upon some course and made their minds +in favor of it. Brent drew the horse aside and bent his attention to +the first few. + +“What’s this?” he demanded. “Where’s the drill to be so early in the +morning?” + +The conversation, he noticed with a touch of sorrow and wounded +pride, ceased as they drew near. They stopped out of respect to his +profession, and one or two touched their caps, not deferentially, but +more as a courtesy long established and hard to forget. Yet one and +all seemed strangely lacking in speech. Presently the first group was +joined by others, and they, also, had nothing to offer the wondering +Brent. He struck the side of his saddle and swore gruffly. + +“Are you tongue-tied? ----, I know you--every mother’s son--as well as I +know my name, and yet I can’t get a civil answer! What is all this fuss +about? Where is the drill?” + +At length one ventured to break the silence. + +“Guess it ain’t a drill, Doctor. Other things afoot, maybe.” + +“What, then?” asked Brent with a little sinking of heart. He knew that +stubborn countenance and that mild speech of old. They would say little +but think mightily. And it took a charge of powder to change their +minds. “What, then?” he repeated after a long interval. + +“Don’t know as I should tell you,” replied the speaker. “Ain’t aimin’ to +be short with you, Doctor, but I don’t rightly guess you got a right to +know.” + +“Mystery--mummery,” retorted Brent, trying to break through the wall. +“Are you taking on airs to me, sir?” + +After another long and reluctant interval the man replied with the same +soft-spoken doggedness. + +“Why no, Doctor, that ain’t hardly right to say. But I don’t just guess +I got a right to tell or you to know.” + +A more reckless spirit had joined them. + +“What’s the harm?” he demanded. “It’s daylight now. Guess the job’s been +done. I ain’t afraid to tell that ’tarnal leech----” + +There was an instant disapproval, and the bold one hushed. + +“May be daylight and all that,” said the spokesman, “but it ain’t our +part to talk. Leave the officers do that if they’re a mind to. Guess +we’re only wasting time here, too.” + +He nodded to the doctor and went on, followed by the augmented group. + +Brent urged the horse homeward, his serenity ruffled, his pride +touched. At short intervals he passed others; one and all they seemed +reluctant to meet his eye, though he knew and called each by name. +Ever since public opinion had crystallized, months ago, and sides had +been taken, his patients and patriot neighbors had withdrawn their +confidences from him, though not their ills. But not until now had +they appeared so unwilling even to acknowledge him. They turned their +faces away or they met his greeting in stony silence or with a +muttered word that was no answer at all. And so he went on, gaining +no information, but being constantly met with the selfsame rebuff. It +only served to whet his curiosity, and at last when he came to his +own house and saw Caleb Gorham, an old, infirm friend, hobbling along +the road like the rest, he instantly got off his horse and protested. + +“By Godfrey, I put you to bed yesterday and told you to stay there. +What’s this foolishness?” + +But his friend, too, had changed. + +“Figger I’ll have to disobey those orders, Isaac.” + +And he kept his way, face averted. Brent crossed the yard and took +Gorham by the shoulders. + +“See here, what in the name of sense is happening? Come in the house.” + +“No, Isaac, it wouldn’t look just right for me to be goin’ in your house +this partic’lar mornin’.” + +Doctor Brent swore again. + +“Caleb, I have not been ashamed to cross your doorsill and you shall not +be ashamed to cross mine! Come. I’ll have an answer from someone.” + +Gorham walked toward the door reluctantly, turning as one of his passing +neighbors hailed him in reproof. + +“You got other chores to do, Caleb.” + +The old man nodded. + +“Be there in a minute,” he answered, and entered the doctor’s house. + +A small fire had been built in the hearth against the morning chill. The +table was set and the cakes were steaming in the platter. + +“Better eat with me,” suggested Brent. His wife came out of the pantry +and he motioned at the table. “Another plate for Caleb.” + +“No,” said Gorham firmly. “Ain’t got time for sociableness.” + +“You’ll have time to die, though, if you disobey my orders,” said Brent +darkly. + +“Guess a man can die when the time comes,” was Gorham’s stout reply. + +The weight of his musket was heavy for his old arms, and he leaned the +weapon against the door. His fingers were rheumatic and gnarled and +his cheeks receded from a thin, long nose. When he spoke it was with a +strong nasal quality; his eyes snapped. + +“You mustn’t push friendship, Isaac, when it’s times like these. Folks +know you and me have been real thick. But a neighbor’s patience ain’t +long in war.” + +“This township,” retorted Brent, “must take me as I am. Before all +this nonsense about taxes and freedom came up they were glad enough to +know me and use me. Now they want my service but not my friendship. +Well, every man to his opinion. I keep mine, and so long as the folks +keep me here to listen to their tales of sickliness, they must bear my +politics.” + +“Guess we need all the doctors we got,” said Gorham, “or you’d gone +packing with the Tory lawyers and parsons. But you been a mighty good +doctor. Only in time of war it pays a man to sing low and mind his +business. You understand? Folks ain’t in a sociable humor.” + +“War?” + + * * * * * + +The older man looked out of the window with his worn, wistful face and +watched his neighbors trooping down the road. He sighed. + +“Guess it don’t make any difference now. Daylight’s come and the job +finished. Last night Prescott and fifteen hundred men crossed +Charlestown Neck and threw up earthworks on Breed’s Hill. We people +are goin’ over to help out if a fight comes. Now you see, Isaac?” + +Brent turned from his friend and went to the fireplace, his ruddy face +losing a measure of its color. For a considerable time he stared at the +flames. + +“Why,” said he, at last, “has every one avoided telling me this? I can’t +do your cause any harm, even if I were inclined.” + +“Part of our nature, I guess. It goes against the grain to tell a Tory +anything--even a friendly one.” + +The last of the fagots in the hearth fell apart with a little flurry. +The doctor’s wife came into the room again, saw the two men standing +so grimly apart and withdrew silently. Brent struck a fist against the +wall. + +“Every day you come nearer to open rebellion. And to think there was a +time not long ago when men still kept their heads and were at peace. Now +I’m a ‘---- Tory leech’ and if it were not because they needed me I’d be +run into Boston with the rest. What a state of affairs!” + +“You’ve got to break eggs to make a cake,” returned Gorham. “It’s a just +cause, and the time’s gone by for talking.” + +“But plenty of time for men to be killed and wounded, eh? Listen to +me, Caleb. It takes many years to make a man, and but one bullet to +dissolve him. Have you hotheads thought of that? I will never believe +the country moved deliberately to such a pass. It has all been the +work of a few scurvy agitators. Hancock loses a few pounds profit +because of the embargo, and lo! he turns in fury. And what does Adams +think of Lexington and Concord? Why, it was a bright and glorious +morning when he heard firing! No, Caleb, these few agitators have +worked the minds of honest men, and now you go to fight, embroiled in +an argument not of your own making. An argument that might have been +settled peaceably, with a little cool patience. An agitator’s war, +and other poor ---- must bleed for that folly!” + +Gorham picked up his gun. + +“It is strange, Isaac, that you know the people so illy. I think you +underrate our minds and our temper.” He opened the door and crossed the +sill. For a moment he appeared to be framing some other sentence, but +in the end he turned his cadaverous face to the doctor and dropped it +an inch by way of farewell. Someone called him from the road and, in a +few strides, he had joined company and was off toward Charlestown Neck, +tramping down the dusty highway. + +Brent closed the door and went back to the breakfast table. The cakes +were stone cold, but that mattered little. He found no appetite and, +after a mouthful, got up and set to traversing the broad kitchen. + +“Aye,” he muttered, “it is an agitator’s war. The rest follow like +sheep. Presently there’ll be a slaughter, and then it will be a mess. +Faugh! Widows crying and the English ministry very ugly. Why can’t +they use peaceful means?” + +His wife came back. + +“The cakes are cold, and you have eaten nothing, Isaac. I’ll make fresh +ones.” + +“No, I’m not hungry. It’s the cursed bullets I think about. Imagine a +man of Gorham’s age and condition shouldering a musket. There’ll be +suffering before night, I fear.” + +He crossed to the window and looked upon the road. There were fewer men +passing his house, but farther away on the main road to Charlestown Neck +he saw the dust rolling higher under the feet of the gathering artisans +and farmers. It only served to increase his restlessness. He ranged from +bookshelf to hearth like one sorely perplexed. + +“Who’s to stanch the bleeding, I should like to know?” + +Presently he heard his wife moving in the bedroom and afterwards the +sound of ripping cloth emerged. + +“What’s that?” he called. + +The door opened and she stood with her hands holding a table spread. + +“I’m tearing linen,” said she. + +“Aye, I guess that’s right. They put their faith in me. If the fools +will fight, it is part of the bargain I must patch them up.” + +And thereupon he clapped his hat to his head and reached for his +instrument case. His wife held out the bandage strips she had torn and +these he stuffed into the case. For a little while they stood undecided +in the center of the room. It was quite as if he were going out on such +a call as he had answered a thousand times before. + +“You have everything, Isaac?” + +“Why, yes, I believe so.” + +“Better sit to a bite of breakfast. It may be after dinner before you +reach home.” + +“Not hungry.” + +He paused on the doorsill and groped for a word. It was unusual for him +to do this; just as unusual as it was for the woman to stand and wait +for him to go. A call was a call and the years had drilled them to the +exigencies of a doctor’s life. A silent, tempered couple, given more to +work than to affection. And yet the doctor, looking toward the rising +dust, seemed puzzled. Finally he flung out an arm. + +“Take care of yourself.” + +“This is the day for you to visit Missis Hammersley, Isaac.” + +“That is not serious. She must wait.” Presently he was on the horse, +riding toward Charlestown Neck. + + * * * * * + +The sun had started downward in the sultry sky when Doctor Brent reached +that part of the road which trailed across the narrow Charlestown Neck. +Through all of the journey he had passed many men dressed in their +workaday clothes, all armed and all trudging onward toward the scene of +impending hostilities with that set manner. They were young, they were +old. Some walked buoyantly; others communed with themselves. And by and +by, after seeing so many, the affair began to take on the cast of deadly +earnestness. Brent clucked his tongue. + +“There will be bloodshed.” + +When he reached the Neck he found troops lying by, as if waiting for a +call. One or two companies were marching across, and behind these Brent +took his path. + +It was no longer peaceful. The British ships had opened fire upon the +Neck, and the great balls, falling here and there, created havoc in +the orderly ranks. These reinforcing troops were not accustomed to +round shot. They broke and sought cover, dodging this way and that. +By and by a runner popped over a slope and came onward. He passed the +troops and hailed them with a word of advice. He saw Brent on the +horse and stopped. + +“Man,” said he, wiping the sweat from his face. “I’ve no wish to +discourage you, but it’s a sorry place for a mounted man beyond the +brow of the hill. You’ll do better afoot and I’ll do better in the +saddle, for I’ve got to reach Cambridge in short time.” + +“There’s action ahead, then?” queried the doctor, stroking the neck of +his animal. + +“Within this half hour there’ll be ---- poppin’ around the corner, and +don’t you forget it,” said the messenger, rolling his eyes. + +The doctor meditated briefly. It was not of his mind to render any aid, +other than his own professional skill, to these stubborn rebels. And yet +it would not do to cut off his nose to spite his face. His horse was a +good horse, and he had an affectionate regard for the steed. It would be +wise to act on the courier’s suggestion. He dismounted. + +“You’d do me a service if, after reaching Cambridge, you would bring the +horse back to the Big Oak tavern and tether it there.” + +The courier mounted and swung around toward the mainland. + +“That I’ll do,” he agreed and galloped away. + +“Good enough,” said the doctor, and pursued his way. The advancing +companies had spread out on the easy grade of Bunker Hill and were +climbing rapidly. The doctor, not used to so much foot work, found +himself breathing heavily. Finally he gained the summit to find +himself among a few reserve companies. But what interested him most +was the striking view that spread below him. On Breed’s Hill, forty +feet lower, was the result of Prescott’s night surprise, an +irregularly square redoubt commanding the crown of the hill. On the +left flank of it was a breastworks and still far to the left and +rear, as a sort of insurance against the redoubt’s being enfiladed, +a stout line of men was stationed behind a rail fence. It was a +formidable picture; a picture that needed but one stroke of the +brush for completion. And that was forthcoming. As the doctor +scanned the broken land farther toward the sea he caught the glint +of bayonets and the bright red of British soldiery. There was a +tapping of drums and the piping of fifes born faintly upward. Then +one by one the battalions of the British army unrolled before him +and started a steady march across the slope toward the provincial +stronghold. + +“By Godfrey!” exclaimed the doctor. + +His heart pounded sluggishly and the ruddy cheeks flamed. Without +further ado he started downward, through the scattered ranks of the +reserves, aiming for the redoubt. There, he decided, would be the main +focus of battle, for there was the key to defense. He broke into a dog +trot, stumbled in the tall meadow grass and went the faster. + +“By Godfrey!” he repeated. + +The British ships were pouring their fire upon the hill and the +thunder echoed and re-echoed across the bay. But on this prospective +field of struggle only an occasional musket report reached the doctor. +He crawled over a fence, arrived at the foot of the Bunker Hill slope +and found himself inside the line of breastworks. He climbed a little +way and presently arrived outside the tall parapets of the redoubt. He +skirted the structure some distance, discovered the one narrow +sallyport it boasted and squeezed his way through. He was, at last, in +the cockpit of trouble. + +It was a small place, not more than fifty feet on a side, with parapets +some six feet in height. At present those parapets were closely crowded +with the provincials, each man with his piece leveled across the top and +trained on the advancing British. At one place a marksman had coolly +elected to stand on the parapet and waited for the command to fire. Some +of the more eager anticipated this command, and Doctor Brent saw then +the vigorous veteran Prescott leap up to the parapet and run around it +with his sword drawn. Here and there he knocked up the gun muzzles. + +“----!” exclaimed Prescott. “Hold your fire! Watch for the quality of +their clothes. Mind, the better the uniform the higher the rank. Watch +for the officers and aim low to kick the dust in their eyes. Steady!” + +The drums grew clearer, the arpeggio notes of the fifes warbled +shriller. Doctor Brent, standing in the center of the redoubt, had +no vision of what happened outside the walls. But he could feel the +tightening of nerves, hear the hush of men’s voices and note the +hunching of shoulders as they took aim. The cannon shot stopped, and +in the brief intermission there arrived the voices of the British +officers encouraging their men, rallying them to the glory of the +regimentals. + +Off to the left at the angle of the rail fence the fury burst in full +force. Then Brent seemed to feel a blast at his heart, and his ears rang +with the roaring of the guns as the defenders of the redoubt took up the +challenge. Men began to shout. The dust rose thickly and the thud of +British balls pattered against the earthen wall. The exposed marksman +fired methodically, handed his gun down and was given another. Out of +the smoke and the inferno of musketry Brent’s waiting ear caught an only +too significant sound--a drawn, half-suppressed cry of pain. Turning, he +saw a stout fellow reel back and catch his side in amazement. There was +a grotesque wrinkling of his tanned face and a widening of honest eyes. + +“They took me!” he gasped. “They took me!” + +He dropped his gun and staggered. Brent sprang forward and received the +falling body in his arms. + +The smell of powder rolled back and stifled the doctor. As he put the +dying man on the ground and endeavored to check the fast spurting blood, +he heard the groaning of many voices beyond the parapet. He shook his +head sorrowfully. Many a brave soul out on that bullet-ploughed field +would shortly be pleading for mercy and for water; neither of which, in +the high tide of conflict, could be given them. The man on the ground +collected himself and shivered as if from cold. Doctor Brent ceased his +efforts and, out of long habit, folded the lifeless hands. + +“Soon enough,” he soliloquized, “there’ll not be time for even this. A +hot and furious day.” + +It was hot enough. The rifle firing diminished; the loud commands of +the British officers died away. Around the parapet rose a parched and +jubilant cry. Presently the provincials had relaxed and turned their +sweating faces inward to open their cartridge boxes, ram home the +charge and prime the pan. They were grimed of cheek, heavy-eyed and +tortured by thirst. Not a man had slept in thirty hours and, during +all the day previous to the infantry attack, a heavy shower of round +shot from the British men-o’-war had played upon their position. + +Still, they were grimly confident. They had been under fire, and the +nervousness of inexperience was no longer with them. Brent, looking +with professional eye, was somewhat surprised at the business-like +manner in which they went about their tasks. Prescott walked around +the walls, calling out his orders. A heavy, crimson-jowled man in a +slap-dash general’s uniform crowded through the sallyport and +likewise circled the walls. It was Putnam. As he traveled he seemed +to radiate a positive assurance that the day was won. Here and there +he tarried to speak with old friends. Always his hearty voice came +back to Brent, reiterating the selfsame assurance. + +“You know, men, you’re the best shots on earth. Not a man of you but +what knows a gun inside and out. You did well this first charge. Now +hold the fire longer still. If they want this hill they must pay for +it!” + +“They come again!” + +The cry passed from mouth to mouth, and the besiegers returned to their +positions at the parapet. It had seemed but a moment’s intermission to +Brent as he went about his work of patching up the wounded and giving +assurance to the dying. He heard again the reiteration of drum and fife; +the sun seemed to beat down more oppressively as it went westering. +Somewhere on the left the field pieces began to speak and the dust to +rise. As before, the British officers took up the challenge when they +neared the redoubt. + +“Gallant dogs!” said a man at the parapet, training his musket. “Will ye +notice how they pick a way over the dead ’uns? Ye’d think they marched +on Sunday parade! Cool!” + + * * * * * + +The air quivered with the tension. There was that digging-in of feet and +hunching of shoulders. + +The god of battle held his breath. In the hush Brent thought he heard +the scuff of British feet and the slap of British accoutrements. + +_Berramm!_ + +A continuous rolling and flashing of muskets ran down the line. Back +upon the doctor arrived the acrid powder smoke and the labored cries of +the freshly wounded. Here and there the parapet showed a gap. Men were +kneeling and men were sprawled out in stark silence. The shouting of the +British officers seemed, on the moment, to become small and lonely. A +mutter of satisfaction trembled on the lips of the defenders. The god of +war, somewhere above the struggle, peered between the rolling clouds and +was still unsatisfied. The scales trembled and the British retreated +doggedly down the hill, their ranks decimated and their officers sadly +reduced. Still they had the will to close upon that redoubt wall. At the +bottom of the slope they halted, threw off their heavy packs, closed the +empty gaps and gathered their weary bodies for a last desperate try. In +one section nine men dressed up ranks that earlier had been forty +strong. Across the water in Boston town the loyalists watched the scene +in silent horror. The day had turned bloody, sinister. + +Within the redoubt was a different scene. The first two assaults had +been repulsed with a great expense of ammunition, and it was now +nearly gone. The recharging of muskets left most of the powder horns +and cartridge boxes empty. Prescott hurried a detail out for a few +cannon cartridges and these, broken open, augmented the supply. + +“When that goes,” added the veteran, “we fall back to bayonets.” + +Brent, working feverishly, felt again a slow churning of his heart. His +ruddy cheeks suffused with color. These men could fight! They were not +afraid to die. They stuck to their places as if bent on taking root +there. Suddenly, in passing from one wounded provincial to another, he +saw upon the ground, with a wistful face to the smoke-obscured sky, the +old and rheumatic Caleb Gorham. Brent dropped to his knee and spoke +sharply. + +“Caleb, where did they strike you?” + +Gorham shook his head and twitched a finger weakly. + +“Won’t do you any good to find out, Isaac. I’m past mendin’ now.” + +“I told you to keep away from here,” muttered the doctor, ripping +open his friend’s vest. Upon the bony chest he saw death’s signature +written by a heavy ball from a Tower musket. He closed the shirt and +eased Gorham’s head. + +“----, Caleb, you were always stubborn to deal with! Did I not tell you +there’d be time enough to die if you disobeyed me?” + +The watery, wistful eyes closed sleepily. Gorham took hold of the +doctor’s hand and gave it faint pressure. + +“I’d died anyhow, Isaac. Had a chance to make a good bargain, so I took +it. Yankee blood. Can’t overlook a bargain.” + +It had been long since Isaac Brent had been called upon to express +emotion, and it came out now in the characteristic way, a brusk reproof. + +“And what about your wife, you old idiot?” + +“Ah! She’ll--be a--proud--widder,” said Gorham, and died. + +The men of the redoubt found their voices. A warning found its way +around the parapet, and wearily the fighters took place. Brent saw a +black spiral of smoke rising skyward, and asked one of those at the +parapet whence it came. + +“Charlestown burnin’.” + +“Here they come, boys!” + +“Godfrey!” exclaimed Brent. “When will they have enough?” + +But the god of war had decided to force the issue. The drums and the +fifes sounded defiantly. Brent heard less of officers now. Something in +the silence of the upward striving soldiery challenged the provincials. +They fiddled with their weapons and dug their heels well in as if to +resist the shock. Of a sudden, from the left flank, artillery began to +rake the redoubt. The earth geysered high. Prescott spoke amid the +absolute silence of his men. + +“Save your powder. Let not a grain be wasted in a foolish shot.” + +“Ain’t got none to save,” muttered one. “By Joshua, I’d give a peck o’ +money fer two charges.” + +Brent, standing in the center of the redoubt, felt a rising excitement +grip him, as the wave of British rolled nearer. As well as his +instruments allowed he had cared for the wounded. There was nothing +left for him to do but go with the tide. If it came to bayonet and +bayonet the British must conquer, for not one provincial in four was +equipped with the blade. He looked speculatively at a gun discarded by +a dead man. + +As on the two previous occasions, the storm burst suddenly. One +tremendous blast of gunfire issued from the redoubt, and for a third +time the smoke swirled back and dimmed the setting sun. Brent choked +and closed his eyes. The effect of that volley was only too audible +to his ears. He wondered how the attackers, so openly exposed and so +indiscriminately stricken down, could continue on. + +But continue on they did. A shout of warning echoed in the redoubt and +a rush was made toward the south parapet. The British, right under the +outside scarp, set up a vigorous huzzah. Bayonet tips glinted over the +top. The scene began to partake of disorder and confusion. Amid the +choking dust Brent saw his comrades rushing toward the focal point of +conflict. A British officer, his scarlet facings showing dimly through +the smoke, sprang over at the head of his company and died immediately +with innumerable bullets in his body. But he was the advance of an +irresistible wave. Behind him came a dozen and behind the dozen arrived +the full weight of a battalion, all its members pressing vigorously to +the front, firing no shot, but extending the steel blade. + +Now the clamor rose toward the heavens. A few irregular shots answered +for the provincials, and that was the end of their powder and shot. +Swords flashed upward and hoarse voices cried out the gallant names of +their dead. Gunstock banged gunstock and strange oaths were sworn. Men +fell and were engulfed in the rapidly overflowing area. The pressure of +the newly arriving British companies inexorably forced the provincials +backwards toward the rear of the redoubt. + +Isaac Brent struggled in the crowd to maintain his footing. His heart +pumped unusually strong and his temper turned warmer and warmer. The +fury of those dogged men around him seemed to pass over and infuse +him with a reckless resentment. Directly in front a British bayonet +plunged forward and impaled a lad barely beyond the first score +years. The attack drove the boy against Brent; he heard the lad sob +and saw him slip down, releasing his gun. In one vigorous move Brent +had secured that gun and had raised it. He found himself lagging in +the retreat. About him were red-coated men, mustached men, all +sweating profusely and gaping for the dust-laden air. One such came +onward swiftly and presented his bayonet at the doctor. + +“Here’s a tonic, you cursed rebel!” he panted. “Take it!” + +“I need no tonic!” said the doctor. + +He parried the thrust and, as the momentum carried the Englishman +onward, he reversed and brought up the gun butt with all his +strength. He heard the impact of that butt striking flush beneath +the other’s chin and saw agony spring to the soldier’s face. Then he +was caught in a milling crowd and jammed tightly against the rear +parapet. The sallyport was too small an exit; they leaped over the +wall and retreated toward the base of Bunker Hill. Brent never knew +how he got over the parapet. He was aware that some time later he, +too, was retreating stubbornly, elbow to elbow with others, swearing +large epithets and praying for a drink of water. + +If the confusion within the redoubt was great, it was still worse in the +ground immediately outside. Here the dust, under the converging points +of British attack, rose in billows, and the two sides were so mixed that +no man could tell friend or foe beyond a few yards. Now and then, on the +left, Brent heard the popping of a musket and knew that those stationed +along the rail fence were covering the retreat of the redoubt defenders. + +“By Godfrey!” he gasped. “We can fight!” + +He seemed to be emerging from the area of a storm into comparatively +quiet territory. The noise and the dust alike grew fainter as he +retreated. He scrambled over a fence, still holding to his musket, and +almost automatically joined in a kind of organized body retreating +along the road to Charlestown Neck and the mainland. Brent looked +behind him as the scene began to clarify. The redoubt was well +surrounded by British who were halting and dressing their lines. The +provincials at the rail fence, once the redoubt had been cleared, were +very slowly giving ground, holding off pursuit. From every direction +men and companies converged into the road. The doctor, carried along +in the throng, turned his face to the front. The road swung and cut +the battlefield from sight. + +He lagged wearily, hearing now and then a mumbled word from his +neighbors; but for the most part he was a silent part of a silent and +sullen crowd. Their heads were down in sheer exhaustion and their +steps were shambling. A fresh company from Cambridge came up, heard +the news and turned back. In no great time Brent roused himself with +an effort and saw that he was with a much smaller group. They had +crossed the Neck, and the men were splitting along the various routes +to their homes. He too, turned. In a half hour he came to the Lone Oak +tavern, found his horse and climbed into the saddle. It was then for +the first time that he noted the afternoon gone and evening advancing +swiftly. There was a throbbing in his wrist; he looked down to see the +blood congealing over his hand. + + * * * * * + +It was pretty late when he got inside his own house and relaxed before +the hearth. The kettle sang on the crane and the table was set for the +evening meal. His wife poured water in the wash basin and waited upon +him while he went through the motions of straightening his attire. Once +at the table she ventured to break the silence. + +“I wish you had taken more breakfast. It has made you look peaked.” + +“A touch of the sun, perhaps,” said he. “The hill was hot.” + +“You were kept busy?” + +“Yes. There was enough to do.” He forgot the food on his plate and sank +into a deep reverie, waking from it with a jerk of his head. “I have +been mightily wrong, my dear. I now confess it. I thought this a war of +agitators. But when men fight so well and so stubbornly they can not +but be sincere. There can not but be stout principles in their minds +and courage in their hearts.” + +“You have changed your opinion, Isaac?” + +“I think,” said he very slowly, “that I have changed my opinion and my +political allegiance.” He shook his head, playing with the silverware. +“Strange. I don’t quite understand it. I went to the hill a Tory doctor +and came back a baptized patriot. Somewhere I changed my mind, but to +save me I can’t tell where.” + +He drank his tea--or that imitation which passed for tea--and got up, +turning toward his surcoat, the very picture of a man who fumbles in +his mind for a lost idea. + +“I did them an injustice. Ten thousand agitators could not make men +fight like that if they had not some just cause.” + +“Where are you going now?” + +“To see Missis Hammersley.” He buttoned his coat and, characteristic +gesture, struck the wall with his hand. “She must change her doctor. +If the provinces are good enough for such men, the provinces are good +enough for me. Tomorrow I join the army.” + + +[Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the May 8, 1926 issue +of _Adventure_ magazine.] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78156 *** |