Duncan Mathews, 15 years old, looked outside. A crowd was moving towards the docks. He saw a lad he knew well, Barnabas Hawkins. He turned to Mistress Tucker, "Folks are headed to the waterfront, shall I go see what the ruckus is, Ma'am?"
Prosperity Tucker, 75 years old, but still spry, adjusted her spectacles and said, "Be right back now, I've a load of fine wool I need taken over to Mr. Wimball."
"Coats for the fancy folk up Beacon Hill, Ma'am?" Matthews said as he tugged his own threadbare coat on, the weather looked to be turning on this day in October. There had been a frost in the morning, now it was clouding up.
"I reckon so, now don't dawdle, go there, see what is happening and then hasten ye back."
"I will, Ma'am!"
He flinched as the door slammed behind him, he doubted Mistress Tucker would notice though, she was nearly as deaf as a post!
When he stepped into the street he saw that Hawkins had waited for him.
"What's all the fuss, Barnabas?" Matthews asked as the two boys headed to the docks.
"William Prescott says that two regiments of regulars are expected. Fellow up in Dorchester saw the ships coming in, he passed the word to William's father."
"Mister Prescott, he's a militiaman, ain't he?"
"That he is."
"Think there will be trouble?" Matthews asked with a worried look on his face. Many of the men he knew were getting more vocal about all the taxes the Crown was imposing on Massachusetts. There had been rumbling in the streets of throwing the Crown's agents out of town.
"My Master thinks not. More soldiers in town might calm the hotheads, at least he hopes so."
"Is your Master for the King, then?"
"No, my Master is for business, he says all the troubles that might come would be bad for business. He's for anything which keeps the rabble quiet." Hawkins answered his friend with a wry grin.
Captain Thomas Gilbert, of His Majesty's 29th Regiment of Foot, stepped onto the pier from the ship. He was heartily glad to be back on dry land. He turned to his company's drummer, a fine looking black lad from Jamaica.
"Young Billy, sound the assembly before the company wanders off to find a tavern."
Billy, who used the last name Kingston, he didn't know of any other, smiled, "Yes, Cap'n, I'd wager the lads will be silly with drink soon enough."
As he beat the assembly, the soldiers of Gilbert's company, the 3rd, began to fall in to ranks. Gilbert wondered just where his sergeants were, he had no lieutenants and his one ensign was under the care of the ship's surgeon. Out of a theoretical establishment of 1 Captain, 2 lieutenants, 1 ensign, 4 sergeants, 4 corporals, 2 drummers, and 100 privates, he only had two sergeants, no corporals, one drummer and 67 privates present for duty.¹
"Sah!"
Gilbert turned, there were his sergeants, half carrying, half dragging a private soldier between them.
"Burton here thought he'd have a go at being a civilian." Sergeant Robert Miller told the Captain.
"No Sir, I was seasick, trying to get me land legs, honest, Sir, I warn't tryin' to desert!"
"Damn your eyes, Burton, you'd be halfway to the lower parts of the town if we hadn't espied you trying to doff your coat in yon alleyway!" Sergeant Teegarden, the older of the two sergeants, cuffed Burton to make his point.
"Extra duty then Burton? Or shall I send your name up to the Colonel? He might just flog you or, if he's in a mood, have you shot for desertion. Your choice, lad." Gilbert had delivered all that in a calm voice. Those who had served with him on the Continent shivered, the Captain was most dangerous when he seemed calm and collected.
Burton swallowed hard, "Extra duty is fine for me, Sir. Sorry, Sir, won't happen again, Sir!"
"Damned right it won't!" Teegarden cuffed the man again.
Burton scurried into ranks, his mates didn't look at him. They didn't wish to be tarred with the same brush as Burton, a ne'er-do-well since he'd joined the Army.
"New regulars landed today, Ma'am. Few hundred at least." Matthews paused in his hauling of bundles of wool out to the handcart he used for deliveries.
"Harrumph, maybe the scallywags around the town will be less troublesome now." Mistress Tucker was of the same mind as Barnabas Hawkins' master, trouble was bad for business.
¹ British Line Infantry Organisation of the Seven Years War, Source.
Taxes and "bad for business".......some things never change eh Sarge?
ReplyDeleteSigh ...
Delete"He's for anything which keeps the rabble quiet." These days the Rx (supposedly from the Latin "recipe," that being in translation "take") for that is panem et circenses rather than cold steel.
ReplyDeleteAnd it seems rather effective.
DeleteCrusty Old TV Tech here. Ah, Bahhhstun. Good to be back in the 18th century again. As others have noted above, history not only rhymes, it thuds with a thunderous sound of an artillery barrage sometimes.
ReplyDeleteAnd surprises those who think doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result makes sense.
Delete(Yeah, looking at you communists.)
Actions vs. results is mindful of what has become a personal "watch for it" phrase; things go South “gradually, then suddenly.”
DeleteIndeed they can.
DeleteBeing somewhat on the winning outcome side, I have always wondered what the regular British Line solider thought about this. This was a much different war that they had likely fought before - a colony in revolt. How did it feel to be thousands of miles from home in a land that looked and somewhat felt like home, but was really not?
ReplyDeleteOne of the topics I hope to explore.
DeleteOne thing noteworthy concerns the "Hessians," many of whom stayed here after the Revolution.
The story continues...
ReplyDeleteHopefully for a while!
DeleteI suspect that is a man powered crane, stage right. I find that sort of thing fascinating.
ReplyDeleteLevers and pulleys, with the right ones you can move anything.
DeleteAnd yet Victorian 'scientists' and 'historians didn't believe that man-powered cranes existed until after the Italian Renaissance even though there was lots of documentation proving said existence... Dumb Victorians.
DeleteDoesn't matter which age one lives in, "science" will "lead" the way.
DeleteBeing an only child there was not enough "kid power" to do 'projects' I wanted, and quickly learned the use of the crowbar, block and tackle, and dad's lever and screw jacks (among other things, he moved houses). Late in high school I took down a quarter mile of telephone poles my dad had bought using 2 twenty-ton capacity railroad jacks, a 6' length of 2x8 oak timber, and a log chain. Timber chained to the pole, jack on either side. The pole would come out a quarter inch at each stroke of the jack lever. Periodically readjust the timber and jacks. Slow but not hard work.
Delete👍
DeletePulling a pole that size 1/4" at a time would be something to see!
DeleteIt would.
Delete(Don McCollor) They were only about 5' in the ground. It went fast, 2-3 hours before a cable from our old truck could complete the job when the pole got wobbly. The exciting part beforehand was going up the poles to get the wires off wearing an old lineman's belt (gifted by my uncle) and a set of climbing spurs (borrowed from my cousin).
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DeleteAh, city folk. Don't upset the applecart no matter what's actually happening. Keep the food and stuff coming in, it's only business. Don't care what's happening out in the countryside as long as things are kept quiet.
ReplyDeleteSome things mostly never change. Sigh...
Are we going to meet a fat bookseller with an interest in artillery? Even in passing? Him and von Steuben have to be some of my favorite 'characters' of the Revolutionary era.
I daresay they might make an appearance. Henry Knox is one of my heroes.
DeleteGreat answer to a question I was going to ask.
DeleteThis is set in a period almost 250 years ago, yet fiercely remembered by many New Englanders even today. There is much to be learned from history, our past, and why our citizenry sometimes believes and acts the way we do. We are largely a nation of immigrants, but mostly thoroughly assimilated. At least int he past, not so much now where some seek to divide us for their own purposes, not the common good.
JB
This New England native cherishes the history of his homeland. Wished that more people would remember those who sacrificed to give us the freedom we take for granted now.
DeleteSigh ...
Sept and Oct 2010 I visited my friend who lives on Cape Cod. It being election season, there were people nigh on every street corner supporting this or that candidate.
DeleteIn many shops and coffee houses were impromptu conversations for and agin a particular candidate or idea.
Of each in which I offered my two cents or mostly just eavesdropped, each person spoke calmly and civilly. Too, very civic minded.
If there were only one word to describe all of which I witnessed, it would be respect. If there were two words, it would be articulate. But for two examples from the hundreds of people I listened to, or engaged directly, each could elaborate for why they were in support or opposition; speaking original thoughts instead of parroting a sound bite, and more than a single sentence or two.
That experience made me proud to be an American. I wished that all across the country spoke in such learned and soft, but firm tones. On occasion I did openly express that wish. In those cases did the listeners understand. They know what they have and they cherish it.
Even they in the 'wrong' heh heh were cordial, respectful, and knowledgeable.
Something the media seeks to suppress, they want us at each other's throats. Divide and conquer. A pox on their houses.
DeleteWell, that. That is why I haven't watched TV since the early 1990s. And that was only for the Summer Olympics.
DeleteIn airport terminals or a Dr office, I ignore the TV if they don't first honor my request to either change the channel or turn down the volume. A restaurant with TV on, I avoid.
But what most impressed me was how civic minded the people. Then, yes, their ability to profoundly express their position on the matters.
Most people are pretty reasonable, it's the fanatics who get all the air time.
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