Part 12 (1/2)

”Our fellows are eager to a.s.sault, sir, and they won't be happy being left aboard the s.h.i.+ps,” Littlefield said.

”It's a question of boats and lighters,” Lovell replied. ”We don't have enough to land every man together, so the boats will return for the York County militia.”

”So be sure to have your fellows ready,” Colonel Davis said.

”And you make sure you leave some of the fighting for us!” Daniel Littlefield said, looking disappointed.

”We don't have enough landing boats?” Revere spoke for the first time. He sounded incredulous. ”Not enough boats?”

”Nowhere near,” Davis said brusquely, ”so we land what men we can, then the boats return for the rest.”

”So what about my guns?” Revere asked.

”General Wadsworth will command the attack,” Lovell responded, ”so perhaps he can answer Colonel Revere?”

Wadsworth smiled at the indignant-looking Revere. ”I am hoping, Colonel, that your guns will not be needed.”

”Not needed! I didn't bring them all the way here just to be ballast!”

”If our information is right,” Wadsworth said emolliently, ”then I trust we shall capture the bluff, and then advance straight on the fort.”

”With speed,” Welch insisted.

”Speed?” Lovell asked.

”The faster we go, the greater the shock,” Welch said. ”It's like prize-fighting,” he explained. ”We give the enemy a hard blow, then hit him again while he's dazed. Then hit him again. Keep him dazed, keep him off-balance and keep hitting.”

”Our hope,” Wadsworth said, ”is to advance with such fervor that we shall overrun the fort before the enemy gathers his wits.”

”Amen to that,” the Reverend Murray said.

”But if the fort is not captured immediately,” Wadsworth was talking to Revere again, ”then your guns shall be fetched ash.o.r.e.”

”And any guns we capture,” Revere insisted, ”belong to the State of Ma.s.sachusetts. Isn't that right?”

Captain Welch bridled at that, but said nothing.

”Of course,” Lovell said. ”Indeed, everything we capture shall belong to the great State of Ma.s.sachusetts!” he beamed at the a.s.sembly.

”I believe, sir,” John Marston, the general's secretary, put in quietly, ”that the Council decreed that all plunder taken by privateers would be deemed as their private property.”

”Of course, of course!” Lovell said, disconcerted, ”but I'm sure there will be more than sufficient plunder to satisfy their investors.” He turned to the Reverend Murray. ”Chaplain? A word of prayer before we disperse?”

”Before you pray,” Captain Welch interrupted, ”one last thing.” He looked hard at the men commanding the militia. ”There's going to be noise and smoke and confusion. There will be blood and screams. There will be chaos and uncertainty. So have your men fix bayonets. You're not going to beat these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds volley to volley, but sharp steel will scare the s.h.i.+t out of them. Fix bayonets and charge straight at the enemy. Shout as you charge and, believe me, they'll run.” He paused, his hard eyes looking at each of the militia commanders in turn who, all except for Major Daniel Littlefield who had nodded enthusiastic agreement, appeared somewhat daunted by the marine's grim words. ”Use sharp steel and blunt courage,” Welch growled, ”and we will win.” He said the last four words slowly, distinctly and with a grim emphasis.

The cabin stayed silent as the men contemplated the marine's words, then the Reverend Murray cleared his throat. ”Gentlemen,” he said, ”let us bow our heads.” He paused. ”O Lord,” he continued, ”Thou hast promised to cover us with Thy strong wings, so protect us now as we go'” He was interrupted by the sound of a cannon firing. The noise was sudden and shockingly loud. The echo of the gun rebounded back from the bluff, then the afternoon was riven by gunfire, by cannon after cannon and by echo after echo, and the rest of the prayer went unspoken as men hurried on deck to watch Commodore Saltonstall's wars.h.i.+ps make their first attack.

From the Oath demanded by Brigadier-General Francis McLean of the inhabitants around the Pen.o.bscot River, July 1779: Calling the most great and sacred G.o.d to the truth of my Intentions, I do most solemnly promise and swear that I will hear true Allegiance and be a faithful subject to his most sacred Majesty George the Third King of Great Britain France and Ireland, and of the Colonies of N. America, Now falsely stiling themselves the United States of America ...

From the Proclamation to the inhabitants of the Pen.o.bscot region, issued by Brigadier-General Solomon Lovell, 29th July 1779: I do hereby a.s.sure the Inhabitants of Pen.o.bscot and the Country adjacent, that if they are found to be so lost to all the virtues of good Citizens . . . by becoming the first to desert the cause of Freedom of Virtue and of G.o.d . . . they must expect to be the first also to experience the just resentment of this injured and betrayed Country, in the condign punishment which their treason deserves.

Excerpt of letter from Colonel John Frost, Ma.s.sachusetts Militia, to the Council of Ma.s.sachusetts, July 20th, 1779: I would beg leave to inform your Honors In calling for Officers from the third Regiment in the Brigade to my Surprise I found that their was neither Officer in said Regiment ... that had a Proper Commission the reason is all the Officers in said Regiment were Commissioned in the year 1776 with the Stile of George the Third King and Colonel Tristrum Jordan then commanded said Regiment but did not take proper care that the Commissions were altered agreable to an Act of this State ... should be glad of your Honors Direction about the Affair and shall wait your Honors Orders.

Chapter Five

The Tyrannicide Tyrannicide, flying the pine-tree flag of the Ma.s.sachusetts Navy, was the first wars.h.i.+p to engage the enemy. She came from the west, sliding before the freshening wind towards the harbor's narrow entrance. To the men watching from the sh.o.r.e it seemed she was determined to force that entrance by sailing into the small gap between HMS Nautilus Nautilus and the battery on Cross Island, but then she swung to port so that she sailed northwards, parallel with the British sloops. Her forrard starboard gun opened the battle. The and the battery on Cross Island, but then she swung to port so that she sailed northwards, parallel with the British sloops. Her forrard starboard gun opened the battle. The Tyrannicide Tyrannicide was armed with six-pounders, seven in each broadside, and her first gun shrouded the brig in thick smoke. The ball struck the sea a hundred yards short of the was armed with six-pounders, seven in each broadside, and her first gun shrouded the brig in thick smoke. The ball struck the sea a hundred yards short of the Nautilus Nautilus, bounced off a small wave, bounced a second time, and then sank just as the whole British line disappeared behind its own smoke as Captain Mowat's s.h.i.+ps took up the challenge. The Hampden Hampden, the big s.h.i.+p from New Hamps.h.i.+re, was next into action, her nine-pounders firing into the British smoke. All that Captain Salter of the Hampden Hampden could see of the three enemy sloops were their topmasts above the cloud. ”Batter them, boys!” he called cheerfully to his gunners. could see of the three enemy sloops were their topmasts above the cloud. ”Batter them, boys!” he called cheerfully to his gunners.

The wind was brisk enough to s.h.i.+ft the smoke quickly. t.i.tus Salter watched as the North North reappeared from the smoke cloud, then another stab of bright flame flashed from one of the British sloop's gunports and he heard the crash as her round shot struck the reappeared from the smoke cloud, then another stab of bright flame flashed from one of the British sloop's gunports and he heard the crash as her round shot struck the Tyrannicide Tyrannicide ahead, then his view was again obscured by the gray, acrid smoke of his own guns. ”Reload!” a man bellowed. The ahead, then his view was again obscured by the gray, acrid smoke of his own guns. ”Reload!” a man bellowed. The Hampden Hampden sailed out of her smoke and Captain Salter cupped his hands and shouted. ”Hold your fire! Hold it!” A British round shot screamed close overhead, smacking a hole through the sailed out of her smoke and Captain Salter cupped his hands and shouted. ”Hold your fire! Hold it!” A British round shot screamed close overhead, smacking a hole through the Hampden Hampden's mizzen sail. ”Hold your d.a.m.ned fire!” Salter bellowed angrily.

A brig had suddenly appeared on the Hampden Hampden's starboard quarter. She was a much smaller vessel, armed with fourteen six-pounders, and her skipper, instead of following the New Hamps.h.i.+re s.h.i.+p, was now overtaking her and so putting his s.h.i.+p between the Hampden Hampden's guns and the British sloops. ”d.a.m.ned fool,” Salter growled. ”Wait till she's clear!” he called to his gunners The brig, flying the pine-tree ensign of the Ma.s.sachusetts Navy, was the Hazard Hazard, and her captain was vomiting from a stomach upset so her first lieutenant, George Little, was commanding her. He was oblivious to the Hampden Hampden, concerned only with taking his s.h.i.+p as close to the enemy as he could and then pounding the sloops with his seven-gun broadside. He wished the commodore had ordered a proper a.s.sault, an attack straight into the harbor mouth, but if he was ordered to restrict himself to a bombardment then he wanted his guns to do real damage. ”Kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!” he shouted at his gunners. Little was in his early twenties, a fisherman turned naval officer, a man of pa.s.sion, a patriot, and he ordered his sheets released so that the power went from his sails and the Hazard Hazard slowed in the water to give her gunners a more stable platform. ”Fire, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!” He gazed at the smoke cloud shrouding the British s.h.i.+p slowed in the water to give her gunners a more stable platform. ”Fire, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!” He gazed at the smoke cloud shrouding the British s.h.i.+p Nautilus Nautilus and saw it infused with a red glow as a gun fired. The ball struck the and saw it infused with a red glow as a gun fired. The ball struck the Hazard Hazard low by the waterline, shuddering the hull. The s.h.i.+p shook again as her own guns fired, the noise seeming to fill the universe. ”Where the devil is the low by the waterline, shuddering the hull. The s.h.i.+p shook again as her own guns fired, the noise seeming to fill the universe. ”Where the devil is the Warren Warren?” Little protested.

”He's holding her back, sir,” the helmsman answered.

”For what?”

The helmsman shrugged. The gunners on the nearest six-pounder were swabbing out the barrel, propelling a jet of steam through the touchhole that reminded Little of a whale spouting. ”Cover that touchhole!” he screamed at them. The rush of air caused by a thrust swab could easily ignite powder residue and explode the rammer back into the gunner's guts. ”Use your thumb-stall, man,” he snarled at the gunner, ”and block the touchhole when you swab!” He watched approvingly as the charge, wadding, and shot were thrust efficiently down the cleared gun, then as the train-tackle ropes were hauled and the cannon run out. The wheels rumbled on the deck, the crew stepped aside, the gunner touched his linstock to the powder-filled quill and the gun belched its anger and smoke. Little was certain he heard the satisfying crunch of a shot striking home on the enemy. ”That's the way, boys!” he shouted, ”that's the only message the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds understand! Kill them!” He could not keep still. He was s.h.i.+fting his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting, as if all his energy was frustrated by his inability to get closer to the hated enemy.

Captain Salter had now edged the Hampden Hampden ahead of the ahead of the Hazard Hazard again. Earlier in the afternoon the commodore had toured the anch.o.r.ed fleet in the fast schooner again. Earlier in the afternoon the commodore had toured the anch.o.r.ed fleet in the fast schooner Rover Rover to shout his instructions to the captains who would engage the British. Aim for their anchor rodes, he had ordered, and Salter was doing his best to obey. His guns were loaded with bar and chain shot, both designed to slash rigging and, though he doubted his gunners' accuracy in the smoke-shrouded afternoon, Salter understood what Saltonstall wanted. The three British sloops were held fore and aft by anchors to which springlines were attached, and by tightening or loosening the springs they could adjust their hulls to the wind or current and so keep their wall-like alignment across the harbor mouth. If a spring or an anchor-line could be severed then one of the enemy s.h.i.+ps would swing like an opening gate, leaving a ma.s.sive hole into which a rebel s.h.i.+p could sail to rake the sloops. to shout his instructions to the captains who would engage the British. Aim for their anchor rodes, he had ordered, and Salter was doing his best to obey. His guns were loaded with bar and chain shot, both designed to slash rigging and, though he doubted his gunners' accuracy in the smoke-shrouded afternoon, Salter understood what Saltonstall wanted. The three British sloops were held fore and aft by anchors to which springlines were attached, and by tightening or loosening the springs they could adjust their hulls to the wind or current and so keep their wall-like alignment across the harbor mouth. If a spring or an anchor-line could be severed then one of the enemy s.h.i.+ps would swing like an opening gate, leaving a ma.s.sive hole into which a rebel s.h.i.+p could sail to rake the sloops.

The chain shot was two halves of a cannon-ball joined by a thick length of chain. When the shot flew it made a sudden sighing noise, like a scythe. The linked half-b.a.l.l.s whirled as they flew, but they vanished into the smoke fog and Salter, staring hard at the mastheads, could see no sign that the scything chains were severing any lines. Instead the British gunners were returning the fire fast, keeping the smoke constant about their three hulls, and more fire, heavier fire, was thumping into the Hampden Hampden from the battery on Cross Island. The high bluff of the peninsula was also wreathed in yellow-gray smoke as the smaller battery on Dyce's Head joined in the fight. from the battery on Cross Island. The high bluff of the peninsula was also wreathed in yellow-gray smoke as the smaller battery on Dyce's Head joined in the fight.

The tide was flooding, drawing the s.h.i.+ps closer to the harbor mouth, and Salter ordered his sheets tightened so that the Hampden Hampden could sail away from any danger of going aground. The Continental brig could sail away from any danger of going aground. The Continental brig Diligent Diligent, with its puny three-pounders, sailed into the smoke cloud left by the Hampden Hampden and her small broadside spat towards the enemy. The and her small broadside spat towards the enemy. The Hazard Hazard, realizing the same danger of grounding, had gathered way and now crossed close behind Salter's stern. ”Where the devil is the Warren Warren?” Lieutenant Little shouted across at Salter.

”Anch.o.r.ed still!” Salter called back.

”She's got eighteen-pounders! Why the devil isn't she battering the'?”

Salter did not hear the last word because a six-pounder ball, fired from Dyce's Head, smacked into his deck and gouged long splinters from the planks before vanis.h.i.+ng off the portside. By a miracle no one was hurt. Two more s.h.i.+ps were now following the Diligent Diligent into the smoke, their guns spitting fire and iron at the king's sloops. The noise was constant, a ceaseless ear-pounding percussion. Lieutenant Little was still shouting, but the into the smoke, their guns spitting fire and iron at the king's sloops. The noise was constant, a ceaseless ear-pounding percussion. Lieutenant Little was still shouting, but the Hazard Hazard had drawn away and Salter could not hear him over the sky-filling noise. A ball screamed overhead and Salter, looking up, was surprised to see a second hole in his mizzen sail. Another round shot cracked into the hull, shaking the big s.h.i.+p, and he listened for a scream, relieved when none sounded. The s.h.i.+fting smoke that hid the three British sloops was being constantly lit by gunflashes so that the gray cloud would glow for an instant, fade, then glow again. Glow after glow, relentless, flickering along the line of smoke, sometimes melding to a brighter red as two or three or four flames flared at once, and Salter recognized the skill that lay behind the frequency of those flashes. The gunners were fast. Mowat, he thought grimly, had trained his men well. ”Maybe the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds will run out of ammunition,” he said to no one in particular, and then, as his s.h.i.+p turned west beneath Dyce's Head, he looked up to see redcoats among the trees on the high bluff. A puff of smoke lingered there, and Salter a.s.sumed a musket had been fired at his s.h.i.+p, but where the ball went he had no idea. Two more gouts of smoke showed among the trees, and then the had drawn away and Salter could not hear him over the sky-filling noise. A ball screamed overhead and Salter, looking up, was surprised to see a second hole in his mizzen sail. Another round shot cracked into the hull, shaking the big s.h.i.+p, and he listened for a scream, relieved when none sounded. The s.h.i.+fting smoke that hid the three British sloops was being constantly lit by gunflashes so that the gray cloud would glow for an instant, fade, then glow again. Glow after glow, relentless, flickering along the line of smoke, sometimes melding to a brighter red as two or three or four flames flared at once, and Salter recognized the skill that lay behind the frequency of those flashes. The gunners were fast. Mowat, he thought grimly, had trained his men well. ”Maybe the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds will run out of ammunition,” he said to no one in particular, and then, as his s.h.i.+p turned west beneath Dyce's Head, he looked up to see redcoats among the trees on the high bluff. A puff of smoke lingered there, and Salter a.s.sumed a musket had been fired at his s.h.i.+p, but where the ball went he had no idea. Two more gouts of smoke showed among the trees, and then the Hampden Hampden was in open water, running down towards the anch.o.r.ed transports, and Salter wore s.h.i.+p to take the was in open water, running down towards the anch.o.r.ed transports, and Salter wore s.h.i.+p to take the Hampden Hampden around again. around again.

The Hazard Hazard's carpenter, his trousers soaked to the waist, appeared from the after-hatch. ”We took a shot just under the waterline,” he reported to Lieutenant Little.

”How bad?”

”Nasty enough. Broke a pair of strakes. Reckon you'll need both pumps.”

”Plug it,” Little said.

”It killed a rat too,” the carpenter said, evidently amused.

”Plug it!” Little shouted at the man, ”because we're going around again. Double-shot the guns!” He called the last command down the deck, then turned an angry face on the helmsman. ”I want to get closer next time!”

”There are rocks off the entrance,” the helmsman warned.