The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War Part 31

The rebels are coming.

Peleg Wadsworth asked for volunteers. The militia, in truth, had been disappointing and, except for the first day ash.o.r.e when they had climbed the bluff to throw back the strong enemy picquet, they had not fought with spirit. But that did not mean there were no brave men among them, and Wadsworth only wanted the brave. He walked around the woods and talked to groups of men, he spoke to the picquets manning the earthworks that edged the woods, and he told all of them what he planned. "We're going along the harbor sh.o.r.e," he said, "and once we're behind the enemy, between him and his s.h.i.+ps, we shall make an a.s.sault. We won't be alone. The commodore will enter the harbor and fight the enemy, and his s.h.i.+ps will bombard the fort while we attack. I need men willing to make that attack, men willing to climb the hill with me and storm the enemy ramparts. I need brave men."

Four hundred and forty-four men volunteered. They a.s.sembled among the trees at the top of Dyce's Head where Lieutenant Downs and fifty marines waited, and where Wadsworth divided the militia volunteers into four companies. The Indian braves formed their own small company. It was early afternoon. The day had dawned so bright, but now the sky clouded and a late fog drifted up the sea-reach.

"The fog will help hide us," Wadsworth remarked.

"So G.o.d is an American," Lieutenant Downs said, making Wadsworth smile, then the marine lieutenant looked past Wadsworth. "General Lovell coming, sir," he said softly.

Wadsworth turned to see Solomon Lovell and Major Todd approaching. Was this bad news? Had Commodore Saltonstall changed his mind? "Sir," he greeted the general cautiously.

Lovell looked pale and drawn. "I have decided," he said slowly, "that I should go with you."

Wadsworth hesitated. He had thought to lead this attack and that Lovell would make a separate advance with the remaining men along the ridge's spine, but something in Lovell's face told him to accept the older man's decision. Lovell wanted to be in this a.s.sault because he needed to prove to himself he had done all that he could. Or perhaps, Wadsworth thought less generously, Lovell had an eye to posterity and knew that fame would attend the man who led the successful a.s.sault on Fort George. "Of course, sir," he said.

Lovell looked heartbroken. "I just ordered the big guns off the heights," he said, gesturing north towards the woods where Revere's cannon had been emplaced.

"You ordered'" Wadsworth began in puzzlement.

"There's no ammunition," Lovell interrupted him bleakly.

Wadsworth was about to point out that more ammunition could be supplied, if not from Boston then perhaps from the Warren Warren's magazine, then he understood why Lovell had given the apparently defeatist order to remove the guns. It was because the general at last understood that this was the rebels' final chance. If this attack failed then nothing else would work, at least not till American reinforcements arrived, and until that day, there would be no more need of heavy guns. "Colonel McCobb and Colonel Mitch.e.l.l will lead the attack along the ridge," Lovell went on. Neither Lovell nor Wadsworth expected much from the second attack, which would be made by the men who had not volunteered, yet their visible presence on the ridge must keep some British defenders on the western side of their fort, and that was why the second attack was planned.

"We're honored you're here, sir," Wadsworth said generously.

"I won't interfere with your deployments," Lovell promised.

Wadsworth smiled. "We're all at G.o.d's mercy now, sir."

And if G.o.d was merciful the rebels would go down the long hill in full sight of the fort and under the fire of its cannons. They would pa.s.s the smoking remnants of the burned houses and barns, then make their way through cornfields and orchards, and through the small yards where vegetables grew. Once sheltered by the village they would make for a group of houses that lay between the fort and the British s.h.i.+ps, and there Wadsworth would wait until the commodore's attack diverted the fort's defenders and filled the harbor with noise, smoke, and flame.

With the marines and Indians added to his force Wadsworth now led five hundred men. The best men. Was it enough? McLean had at least seven hundred in the fort, but the troops led by Colonel McCobb and Colonel Mitch.e.l.l would keep some of those defenders facing west, and once the British s.h.i.+ps were taken or sunk the rest of the American marines would come ash.o.r.e. The numbers would be about equal, Wadsworth thought, then decided that he could not win this battle by an exercise of mental arithmetic. He could plan his moves as far as the harbor's edge, but after that the devil would roll his dice and it would be smoke and flame, screams and steel, the chaos of anger and terror, and what use was mathematics then? If Wadsworth's grandchildren were to learn of this day and of this victory they must learn of courage and of men doing a great deed. And if the deed was not great it would not be memorable. So at some point he must let go of calculation and throw himself on anger and resolve. There was no easy way. Both Lovell and Saltonstall had s.h.i.+rked the fight because they sought a sure solution, and no such easy answer existed. The expedition would only succeed when it rose above prudence and challenged men to perform great deeds. So yes, he thought, five hundred men was enough, because that was all he had to do this thing, and this thing had to be done in the name of American liberty. "James?" he spoke to Fletcher. "Let's go."

Forty of the volunteers were manning drag-ropes attached to two of the four-pounder cannons that, so far, had scarcely been used. They were too small to be effective at anything except close range, but on this day they might be battle-winners. Lieutenant Marett, one of Revere's officers, commanded the two pieces, which had an ample supply of round shot, though Captain Carnes, before returning to the General Putnam General Putnam, had insisted that the two small guns were also equipped with grape. He had made the missiles himself, collecting stones from the beach that the General Putnam General Putnam's sailors had sewn into rough bags of sail canvas. The bags could be rammed on top of a round shot so that when the guns were fired the stones would spread like lethal duckshot. Lieutenant Marett had nervously protested that the stones would ruin the guns' barrels, but had fallen silent under Carnes's baleful stare. "d.a.m.n the barrels," Carnes had said, "it's the ruin they'll do to British guts that matters."

The first tendrils of fog curled over the slope as the men went down to the sh.o.r.e. They went in open order, hurrying across the meadows and through the scattered trees. A round shot fired from Fort George gouged a scar across gra.s.sland. A second gun fired, then a third, but all the b.a.l.l.s ricocheted harmlessly from the ground. That was a good omen, Wadsworth thought, and was surprised that he sought omens. He had prayed in the dawn. He liked to think that faith and prayer were sufficient to themselves, and that he was now in G.o.d's hands, but he found himself watching every phenomena for any sign that this attack would succeed. The British sloops, though their guns would bear on the harbor sh.o.r.e, did not fire and that was surely the hand of provi-dence. The smoke from the burning houses was blown towards Fort George and, though Wadsworth's rational mind told him that was merely because the wind persisted from the southwest, he wanted to believe it was a sign that G.o.d desired to blind and choke the enemy. He saw six of the Indians crouching beside the cornfield where he had ordered the men to gather. They formed a circle, their dark heads close together, and he wondered what G.o.d they prayed to. He remembered a man named Eliphalet Jenkins who had founded a mission to the Wampanoag tribe and whose body, gutted empty by knives and blanched pale by the sea, had been washed ash.o.r.e at Fairhaven. Why was he remembering that old tale? And then he thought of the story James Fletcher had told him about a man and boy, both English, who many years before had been gelded then burned alive by the Indians of Majabigwaduce. Was that another omen?

The two guns arrived safely. Each was attached to a caisson that held their ammunition and on the nearer of those wagons was painted a slogan, "Liberty or Death." That was easily said, Wadsworth thought, but death seemed more imminent now. Imminent and immanent. The words batted in his head. Why did the enemy sloops not fire? Were they asleep? A sh.e.l.l from the fort landed in the smoldering remnants of Jacob Dyce's house and exploded harmlessly with a dull, impotent boom and an eruption of ash and smoldering timbers. Imminent, immanent, and impotent. For some reason Wadsworth thought of a text that had been the foundation of a sermon that the Reverend Jonathan Murray had preached on the first Sunday after the expedition had landed, "where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched." The worm, Murray said, was the evil of British tyranny and the fire the righteous anger of men who fought for liberty. But why did we burn these houses, Wadsworth wondered, and how many men of Majabigwaduce had been enraged by that arson and, even now, manned the ramparts of the fort? "The worm will shrivel," Murray had promised, "it will shrivel and hiss as it burns!" Yet the scripture, Wadsworth thought, did not promise that punishment, only that the worm dieth not. Was that an omen?

"Do we go on, sir?" Fletcher asked.

"Yes, yes."

"You look as if you're dreaming, sir," Fletcher said, grinning.

"I was wondering how many civilians will be helping the garrison."

"Oh, some will," Fletcher said dismissively. "Old Jacob for one, but he can't shoot straight. Doctor Calef, of course."

"I knew Calef in Boston," Wadsworth said.

"He's not a bad fellow. A bit pompous. But he'll be doctoring, not soldiering."

"On we go," Wadsworth said, and it seemed unreal now. The s.h.i.+ps still did not fire and the bombardment from the fort fell silent because the Americans were on the low ground and protected from the guns on the fort's southern wall by a shoulder of land that ran parallel to the ridge. They were concealed too by houses, cornfields, and trees. Lilies blossomed in yards. A woman hurriedly took in some drying was.h.i.+ng because the sky was still darkening and promised rain. The marines, in a double file, advanced on the left ready to turn and oppose any sally by the fort's garrison, but McLean sent none. A chained dog barked at the pa.s.sing soldiers until a woman called for it to be silent. Wadsworth looked up to his left, but all he could see of the fort was the slow-stirring flag at the top of its pole. He crossed the newly made track which led from the beach to the fort's gate. If I were McLean, Wadsworth thought, I would send men down to fight, but the Scotsman did no such thing, nor did Mowat fire from his sloops, though he must be seeing the rebels file through the settlement. "He's not going to waste shot on us," Lieutenant Downs suggested when Wadsworth expressed surprise that the British s.h.i.+ps had been silent.

"Because we can't hurt him?"

"Because he's double-shotted his guns to welcome our s.h.i.+ps. That's all he's worried about, sir, the s.h.i.+ps."

"He can't know they're planning to attack him," Wadsworth pointed out.

"If they saw our fo'c'sle's being strengthened," Downs said, "they'll have guessed."

And suppose the s.h.i.+ps did not come? Saltonstall had very reluctantly agreed to make an attack, and suppose he changed his mind? Wadsworth's men were now in line with the s.h.i.+ps, meaning they were between Mowat and McLean, and Wadsworth could see the red uniforms of the Royal Marines on the deck of HMS North North. The fog was thickening and a first slow spatter of rain fell.

Then a fair-haired girl came running from a house to throw her arms round James Fletcher's neck, and Wadsworth knew they had arrived. He ordered the two guns to face the harbor, their job to open fire if any Royal Marines came from the s.h.i.+ps. The rest of his men crouched in yards and orchards. They were a quarter mile from the fort's southeastern bastion and hidden from it by a large cornfield. They were in place. They were ready. If McLean could see them he took no apparent heed because none of the fort's guns fired, while the sloops' broadsides were now facing well away from the rebels. We go uphill from here, Wadsworth thought. Through the cornfield and across the open ground and over the ditch and up the wall and so to victory, and that sounded easy, but there would be round shot and grapeshot, screams and blood, smoke and volleys, death squirming in agony, men shrieking, steel slithering in guts, s.h.i.+t-soiled breeches, and the devil laughing as he rattled his dice.

"They know we're here," Solomon Lovell had not spoken since they left the high ground, but now, looking up at the flag flying above the fort, he sounded nervous.

"They know," Wadsworth said. "Captain Burke!" William Burke, the skipper of the privateer Sky Rocket Sky Rocket, had come with the soldiers and his duty now was to return and tell Commodore Saltonstall that the a.s.sault force was in position. Saltonstall had insisted that a seaman carry him that news, an insistence that amused Wadsworth because it suggested the naval officer did not trust the army. "Are you satisfied we're in position, Mister Burke?" Wadsworth asked.

"I'm well satisfied, General."

"Then pray tell the commodore we shall attack as soon as he opens fire."

"Aye aye, sir," Burke said, and set off westwards, escorted by four militiamen. A longboat waited for him beneath Dyce's Head. It would take an hour, Wadsworth thought, for the message to be delivered. It began to rain harder. Fog and rain on Friday the thirteenth, but at least Wadsworth was confident that, at long last, the s.h.i.+ps would come.

And the fort, with G.o.d's good help, would fall.

"We do nothing, of course," McLean said.

"Nothing?" John Moore asked.

"We could have a late luncheon, I suppose? I'm told there's oxtail soup."

Moore gazed down from the fort's southeastern bastion. The rebels, at least four hundred of them, were hidden somewhere close to the Fletcher house. "We could send two companies to rout them, sir," the lieutenant suggested.

"They have a company of marines," McLean said, "you saw that."

"Then four companies, sir."

"Which is exactly what they want us to do," McLean said. Rainwater dripped from the peaks of his c.o.c.ked hat. "They want us to weaken the garrison."

"Because then they'll attack from the heights?"

"I must a.s.sume so," McLean said. "I do like an oxtail soup, especially seasoned with a little sherry wine." McLean went cautiously down the short flight of steps from the bastion, helping himself with the blackthorn stick. "You'll serve with Captain Caffrae," he told Moore, "but do remember your other duty if the rebels should break through."

"To destroy the oaths, sir?"

"Exactly that," McLean said, "but I a.s.sure you they won't break through."

"No?" Moore asked with a smile.

"Our enemies have made a mistake," McLean said, "and divided their force, and I dare believe that neither of their contingents has the strength to break through our defense." He shook his head. "I do like it when the enemy does my work. They're not soldiers, John, they're not soldiers, but that doesn't mean the fight will be easy. They have a cause, and they're ready to die for it. We'll win, but it will be hard work."

The brigadier knew that the crisis had come and was just grateful that it had taken so long to arrive. Captain Mowat's message had said that the rebel s.h.i.+ps were at last determined to enter the harbor, and McLean now knew that the naval a.s.sault would be accompanied by a land attack. He expected the main body of the rebels to come from the heights, and so he had posted the majority of his men on the western side of the fort, while three companies of the 82nd were placed to defend against the attack by the men who had worked their way along the sh.o.r.e to conceal themselves in the low ground. Those three companies were reinforced by naval cannon already loaded with grapeshot that could turn the ditch beyond the low eastern wall into a trench slopping with blood. And it would be b.l.o.o.d.y. In another hour or two McLean knew that Majabigwaduce would be besieged by noise, by the smoke of cannon and by the spite of musket-fire. Mowat's sloops would put up a stalwart defense, but they would surely be destroyed or taken, and that was sad, yet their loss would not mean defeat. The important thing was to hold the fort and that McLean was determined to do, and so, though his officers yearned to make a sally and attack the concealed rebels, he would keep his redcoats inside Fort George's walls and let the rebels come to die on his guns and bayonets.

Because that was why he had built Fort George, to kill the king's enemies, and now those enemies were obliging him. And so he waited.

It began to rain harder, a steady rain, pelting down almost vertically because the wind was so light. The fog moved in bands, thick sometimes, then thinning, and at times whole swathes of the river were clear of the fog to reveal a sullen gray water being dimpled by rain. The rainwater dripped from yards and rigging to darken the wars.h.i.+ps' decks.

"You trust the army, Mister Burke?" Saltonstall asked.

"They're in position, Commodore, and ready to go. Yes, sir, I trust them."

"Then I suppose we must indulge them."

Five rebel s.h.i.+ps would sail into Majabigwaduce Harbor. The General Putnam General Putnam would lead the attack, closely followed by the would lead the attack, closely followed by the Warren Warren and the New Hamps.h.i.+re s.h.i.+p, and the New Hamps.h.i.+re s.h.i.+p, Hampden Hampden. The Charming Sally Charming Sally and the and the Black Prince Black Prince would come behind those three leading vessels. would come behind those three leading vessels.

It had been Saltonstall's idea to send the General Putnam General Putnam first. She was a large, well-built s.h.i.+p that carried a score of nine-pounder cannons, and her orders were to sail directly at Mowat's line and then turn upwind to anchor opposite the southernmost sloop, the first. She was a large, well-built s.h.i.+p that carried a score of nine-pounder cannons, and her orders were to sail directly at Mowat's line and then turn upwind to anchor opposite the southernmost sloop, the Nautilus Nautilus. Once anch.o.r.ed, the General Putnam General Putnam would hammer the would hammer the Nautilus Nautilus with her broadside while the with her broadside while the Warren Warren, with her much larger guns, came into line opposite the British flags.h.i.+p, the Albany Albany. The Hampden Hampden, with her mix of nine-pounder and six-pounder cannon, would then take on the North North while the two remaining s.h.i.+ps would use their broadsides to pound the fort. while the two remaining s.h.i.+ps would use their broadsides to pound the fort.

"He wants us dead," Thomas Reardon, first lieutenant of the General Putnam General Putnam, commented.

"But it makes sense to send us in first," Daniel Waters, the skipper, said bleakly.

"To kill us?"

"The Warren Warren's our most powerful s.h.i.+p. No point in having her half-beaten to death before she opens fire."

"So we're to be half-beaten to death instead?"

"Yes," Waters said, "because that's our duty. Hands to the capstan."

"He's saving his skin, that's the only sense it makes."

"That's enough! Capstan!"

Capstans creaked as the anchors were hauled. The topgallantsails were released first, showering water onto the decks, which had been scattered with sand to give the gunners firm footing on planks that would become slippery with blood. The guns were double-shotted. The three leading vessels all carried marines whose muskets would harry the enemy gunners.

The crews of the other s.h.i.+ps cheered as the five attacking vessels got under way. Commodore Saltonstall watched approvingly as his flying jib was raised and backed to turn the Warren Warren away from the wind, then as the jib and foretopmast staysail were hoisted and sheeted hard home. The topgallants caught the small wind, and Lieutenant Fenwick ordered the other topsails released. Men slid down rigging, ran along yards, and fought with rain-tightened bindings to loose the big sails that scattered more gallons of rainwater that had been trapped within the canvas folds. "Sheet them hard!" Fenwick called. away from the wind, then as the jib and foretopmast staysail were hoisted and sheeted hard home. The topgallants caught the small wind, and Lieutenant Fenwick ordered the other topsails released. Men slid down rigging, ran along yards, and fought with rain-tightened bindings to loose the big sails that scattered more gallons of rainwater that had been trapped within the canvas folds. "Sheet them hard!" Fenwick called.

And the Warren Warren was moving. She even heeled slightly to the fitful wind. At her stern the snake ensign flew from the mizzen gaff, while the Stars and Stripes were unfurled at her maintop, the proud colors bright in the drab rain and drifts of fog. Israel Trask, the boy fifer, played on the frigate's forecastle. He began with the "Rogue's March" because it was a jaunty tune, a melody to make men dance or fight. The gunners had scarves tied about their ears to dull the sound of the cannon and most, even though it was a chill day, were stripped to the waist. If they were wounded they did not want a musket-ball or timber splinter to drive cloth into the flesh, for every man knew that invited gangrene. The cannon were black in the rain. Saltonstall liked a spick-and-span s.h.i.+p, but he had nevertheless permitted the gunners to chalk the guns' barrels. "Death to Kings," one said, "Liberty forever" was written on another, while a third, somewhat mysteriously, just said "d.a.m.n the Pope," a sentiment which seemed irrelevant to the day's business, but which so accorded with the commodore's own prejudices that he had allowed the slogan to stay. was moving. She even heeled slightly to the fitful wind. At her stern the snake ensign flew from the mizzen gaff, while the Stars and Stripes were unfurled at her maintop, the proud colors bright in the drab rain and drifts of fog. Israel Trask, the boy fifer, played on the frigate's forecastle. He began with the "Rogue's March" because it was a jaunty tune, a melody to make men dance or fight. The gunners had scarves tied about their ears to dull the sound of the cannon and most, even though it was a chill day, were stripped to the waist. If they were wounded they did not want a musket-ball or timber splinter to drive cloth into the flesh, for every man knew that invited gangrene. The cannon were black in the rain. Saltonstall liked a spick-and-span s.h.i.+p, but he had nevertheless permitted the gunners to chalk the guns' barrels. "Death to Kings," one said, "Liberty forever" was written on another, while a third, somewhat mysteriously, just said "d.a.m.n the Pope," a sentiment which seemed irrelevant to the day's business, but which so accorded with the commodore's own prejudices that he had allowed the slogan to stay.

"A point to starboard," Saltonstall said to the helmsman.

"Aye aye, sir, point to starboard it is," the helmsman said, and made no correction. He knew what he was doing, and he knew too that the commodore was nervous, and nervous officers were p.r.o.ne to give unnecessary orders. The helmsman would keep the Warren Warren behind the behind the General Putnam General Putnam, close behind, so close that the frigate's jib-boom almost touched the smaller s.h.i.+p's ensign. The harbor entrance was now a quarter mile away. Men were waving from the top of Dyce's Head. Other men watched from Cross Island where the American flag flew. No guns fired. A rift of fog drifted across the harbor center, half-shrouding the British s.h.i.+ps. The fort was not visible yet. There was a whisper of wind, just enough so that the s.h.i.+ps picked up speed and the sea at the Warren Warren's cut.w.a.ter made a small splas.h.i.+ng noise. Two knots, maybe two and a half, Saltonstall thought, and one nautical mile to go before the wheel spun to lay the frigate's broadside opposite the Albany Albany. The forecastle of the Warren Warren looked ugly because the marines had erected barricades of logs to protect themselves against the enemy's fire. And that fire would begin as soon as the frigate pa.s.sed Dyce's Head, but most of it would be aimed at the looked ugly because the marines had erected barricades of logs to protect themselves against the enemy's fire. And that fire would begin as soon as the frigate pa.s.sed Dyce's Head, but most of it would be aimed at the General Putnam General Putnam and for half a nautical mile the and for half a nautical mile the General Putnam General Putnam must endure that fire without being able to answer it. At two knots that half nautical mile would be covered in fifteen minutes. Each British gun would fire six or seven shots in that time. So at least three hundred shots would beat the must endure that fire without being able to answer it. At two knots that half nautical mile would be covered in fifteen minutes. Each British gun would fire six or seven shots in that time. So at least three hundred shots would beat the General Putnam General Putnam's bows, which Captain Waters had reinforced with heavy timbers. Saltonstall knew that some men despised him for letting the General Putnam General Putnam take that beating, but what sense did it make to sacrifice the largest s.h.i.+p in the fleet? The take that beating, but what sense did it make to sacrifice the largest s.h.i.+p in the fleet? The Warren Warren was the monarch of this bay, the only frigate and the only s.h.i.+p with eighteen-pounder cannons, and it would be foolish to let the enemy cripple her with three hundred round shot before she was capable of unleas.h.i.+ng her terrifying broadside. was the monarch of this bay, the only frigate and the only s.h.i.+p with eighteen-pounder cannons, and it would be foolish to let the enemy cripple her with three hundred round shot before she was capable of unleas.h.i.+ng her terrifying broadside.

And what good would this attack do anyway? Saltonstall felt a pulse of anger that he was being asked to do this thing. Lovell should have attacked and taken the fort days ago! The Continental Navy was having to do the Ma.s.sachusetts Militia's job, and Lovell, d.a.m.n him, must have complained to his masters in Boston who had persuaded the Navy Board there to send Saltonstall a reprimand. What did they know? They were not here! The task was to capture the fort, not sink three sloops, which, once the fort was taken, were doomed anyway. So good marines and fine sailors must die because Lovell was a nervous idiot. "He's not fitted to be elected town Hog Reeve," Saltonstall sneered.

"Sir?" the helmsman asked.

"Nothing," the commodore snapped.

"By the mark three!" a seaman called from the beakhead, casting a lead-weighted line to discover the depth.

"We've plenty of water, sir," the helmsman said encouragingly. "I remember from the last time we poked our nose in."

"Quiet, d.a.m.n your eyes," Saltonstall snapped "Quiet it is, sir."

The General Putnam General Putnam was almost abreast of Dyce Head now. The wind faltered, though the s.h.i.+ps kept their way. On board the British s.h.i.+ps the gunners would be crouching behind their barrels to make sure their aim was true. was almost abreast of Dyce Head now. The wind faltered, though the s.h.i.+ps kept their way. On board the British s.h.i.+ps the gunners would be crouching behind their barrels to make sure their aim was true.

"Commodore, sir!" Mids.h.i.+pman Ferraby shouted from the taffrail.

"What is it?"

"Signal from the Diligent Diligent, sir. Strange sail in sight."

Saltonstall turned. There, far to the south, just emerging from a band of fog which half-obscured Long Island, was his guard s.h.i.+p, the Diligent Diligent, with signal flags bright at a yardarm. "Ask how many sail," he ordered.

"It says three s.h.i.+ps, sir."

"Why the h.e.l.l didn't you say so the first time, you d.a.m.ned fool? What s.h.i.+ps are they?"

"He doesn't know, sir."

"Then send an order telling him to find out!" Saltonstall barked, then took the speaking trumpet from its hook on the binnacle. He put the trumpet to his mouth. "Wear s.h.i.+p!" he bellowed, then turned back to the signal mids.h.i.+pman. "Mister Ferraby, you d.a.m.ned fool, make a signal to the other attack s.h.i.+ps that they are to return to the anchorage!"

"We're going back, sir?" Lieutenant Fenwick was driven to ask.

"Don't you be a d.a.m.ned fool as well. Of course we're going back! We do nothing till we know who these strangers are!"

And so the attack was suspended. The rebel s.h.i.+ps turned away, their sails flapping like monstrous wet wings. Three strange s.h.i.+ps were in sight, which meant reinforcements had arrived.

But reinforcements for whom?

From Lieutenant George Little's deposition to the Ma.s.sachusetts Court of Inquiry, sworn on September 25th, 1779.: By order of Capt Williams I went with 50 Men on Board the Hamden to man her as I suppos'd to grand Attack the Enem'y About the Same time the Comodore Boats being Imploy'd In Bringing off Loggs to Build a Brest Work on his fore Castle I have Offten Herd Capt Williams say that from the first Counsell of war that the Comodore being always preaching Terro Against going in the Harbor to Attack the Enemeys s.h.i.+ping.

From Brigadier-General Lovell's despatch to Jeremiah Powell, President of the Council Board of the State of Ma.s.sachusetts Bay, dated August 13th, 1779: I receiv'd your favor of Augt 6th this day wherein you mention your want of intelligence of the State of the army under my Command. ... The Situation of my Army at present I cannot but say is very critical. ... Many of my Officers and Soldiers are dissatisfied with the Service tho' there are some who deserve the greatest credit for their Alacrity and Soldier like conduct. ... Inclosed you have the Proceedings of five Councils of War, You may Judge my Situation when the most important s.h.i.+p in the Fleet and almost all the private property s.h.i.+ps are against the Seige.