Part 22

Meanwhile, Hancock and Adams retired from danger; and it is related that, while on the march, the latter, enraptured with joy, exclaimed, "Oh, what an ever-glorious morning is this!"--considering this first effusion of blood as the prelude of events which must secure the happiness of his country. The soldiers advanced towards Concord, where the inhabitants assembled; but seeing the numbers of the enemy, they fell back, and posted themselves on a bridge, north of the town. The light infantry assailed them with fury, routed them, and occupied the bridge, while the others entered Concord, and proceeded to the execution of their orders. They disabled two twenty-four pounders, threw five hundred pounds of ball into the river and wells, and broke in pieces about sixty barrels of flour.

During the search of the British for military stores, a British officer demanded entrance into the barn of Captain Wheeler. This was readily granted. In it was stored a large quantity of provincial flour. The officer expressed his pleasure at the discovery. But Captain Wheeler, with much affected simplicity, said to him, putting his hand on a barrel, "This is my flour. I am a miller, sir; yonder stands my mill; I get my living by it. In the winter, I grind a great deal of grain, and get it ready for market in the spring. This," (pointing to one barrel,) "is the flour of wheat; this," (pointing to another,) "is the flour of corn; this is the flour of rye; this," (putting his hand on his own cask,) "is _my_ flour; this is _my_ wheat; this is _my_ rye; this is _mine._" "Well," said the officer, "we do not injure _private_ property," and withdrew, leaving this important depository untouched.

The militia being rëinforced, Major Buttrick, of Concord, who had gallantly offered to command them, advanced towards the bridge; but, not knowing of the transaction at Lexington, ordered the men not to give the first fire, that the provincials might not be the aggressors. As he advanced, the light infantry retired to the Concord side of the river, and began to pull up the bridge; and on his nearer approach, they fired, and killed a captain and one of the privates. The provincials returned the fire; a skirmish ensued, and the regulars were forced to retreat, with some loss. They were soon joined by the main body, which now retreated with precipitancy. Meanwhile, the people of the adjacent country flocked in, and attacked them in every direction. Some fired from behind stone walls and other coverts; while others pressed on their rear during their retreat to Lexington.

General Gage, apprehensive for the fate of the English, had dispatched nine hundred men and two field-pieces, under command of Lord Percy. This corps arrived very opportunely at Lexington, at the moment when the royal troops entered the town from the other side, pursued with fury by the provincial militia.

It appears highly probable that, without this rëinforcement, they would have all been cut to pieces or made prisoners; their strength was exhausted, as well as their ammunition. After making a considerable halt at Lexington, they renewed their march towards Boston, the number of the provincials increasing, although the rear-guard of the English was less molested, on account of the two field-pieces, which repressed the impetuosity of the Americans. But the flanks of the columns remained exposed to a destructive fire, from every point adapted to serve as coverts. The royalists were also annoyed by the heat, which was excessive, and by a violent wind, which blew a thick dust in their eyes. Finally, after a march of incredible fatigue, and considerable loss of men, the English, overwhelmed with lassitude, arrived at sunset in Charlestown. Independently of the combat they had sustained, the distance they had that day traveled was above five-and-thirty miles. The day following, they crossed over to Boston.[31]

The rencontre at Lexington was, in itself, an inconsiderable affair. But, in its relation and influence, its importance can scarcely be estimated. It was the first outbreak of indignant feeling, which, for months and years, had been acquiring strength, but which, until now, had been suppressed. It was a solution of the problem, whether the wrongs of America could be redressed without a resort to arms. It developed the spirit and determination, as well of the king and parliament, as of the Americans themselves. It shut the door for further negotiation; it cut off hope for the colonies, but through an appeal to arms. In fact, it was a signal for war--_it was war itself_.

The affair had two results. The _first_ was to demonstrate how false and ridiculous were the vaunts of those Gascons who, within parliament as well as without, had spoken in such unworthy terms of American courage; from this moment, the English nation, and especially its soldiers, persuaded themselves that the struggle would be far more severe and sanguinary than had been at first believed. The _second_ effect of the combat was, greatly to increase the confidence of the colonists, and their resolution to defend their rights. It should be added, also, that the reports of the cruelties of the British troops produced an incredible excitement in the minds of the inhabitants, which was still further increased by the public honors which were paid to those who had fallen in the opening contest. Their eulogies were pronounced, and they were styled martyrs of liberty, while their families were the objects of unusual veneration. They were cited as the models to be imitated in the approaching conflict.

The provincial congress of Massachusetts was in session at Watertown, ten miles distant from Boston. On receiving intelligence of the battle, it took immediate measures to raise thirteen thousand and six hundred men, and chose for their general Colonel Ward, an officer of much reputation. This militia was designed to form the contingent of Massachusetts; the provinces of New Hampshire, Connecticut, and Rhode Island were invited to furnish theirs, in order to complete an army of thirty thousand men, to be commanded by General John Thomas, an officer of great experience. Connecticut dispatched, immediately, a considerable corps, under the command of Colonel Putnam, an old officer, who, in the two late wars, had often given proof of courage and intelligence. The other provinces were not slow in causing their standards to move; and, in a short time, an army of thirty thousand men was found assembled under the walls of Boston. So great and so universal was the ardor produced among the inhabitants by the battle of Lexington, that the American generals were obliged to send back to their homes many thousand volunteers. Putnam took his station at Cambridge, and Thomas at Roxbury, upon the right wing of the army, to cut off entirely the communication of the garrison, by the isthmus, with the adjacent country. Thus, in a few days after the affair of Lexington, the capital of the province of Massachusetts was closely besieged; thus a multitude assembled in haste, of men, declared rebels and mean-spirited cowards, held in strict confinement, not daring to sally forth even to procure food, many thousands of veteran troops, commanded by an able general, and combating under the royal standard.

FOOTNOTE:

[31] Botta's War of the Independence.

II. BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL.

AMERICAN Patriotism--American and British Forces--Fortification of Bunker's hill--Attacked by British Ships--Asa Pollard, the first Martyr--Preparations of the British--Warren--Prescott's Injunction to his Troops--British repulsed with terrible slaughter--Second Attack--Charlestown set on fire at the same time--Second Repulse--Putnam and Major Small--Death of Colonel Gardiner--Thrilling Incident--Third Advance of the British--Death of Major Pitcairn--Americans in want of Ammunition--Retreat--Death of Warren--Respective Losses--Results of the Battle.

Boston, which for a considerable time had been the point of greatest interest in the American colonies, was not less so immediately following the battle of Lexington. That engagement served to quicken the already excited pulse of thousands. The fires of patriotism burned brighter. Sires and sons, mothers and daughters, rejoiced that the crisis had come, and were ready to make every needful sacrifice for their country's good. In a few weeks, the metropolis of the province of Massachusetts was environed by an American army, fifteen thousand strong--ten thousand of which was furnished by Massachusetts, and three thousand by Connecticut; the rest were supplied by the other New England colonies. Of these troops, General Ward was commander-in-chief. His head-quarters were at Cambridge. The right-wing was stationed at Roxbury, the left at Medford and Chelsea.

Towards the end of May, a considerable rëinforcement arrived at Boston from England, which, with the garrison, formed an army of from ten to twelve thousand men--all veteran troops. At the head of this rëinforcement were three distinguished and practical generals--Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne.

The difference in numbers was on the side of the Americans--not so, however, their military science, arms, or ammunition. They had, in all, but sixteen field-pieces, six of which, at the very utmost, were in a condition for service. Their brass pieces, which were few, were of the smallest caliber. They had, however, some heavy iron cannon, with three or four mortars and howitzers, and some scanty provision of balls and bombs. But of powder, they were almost totally destitute.

The situation of the English was now daily becoming more perplexing and critical, and the necessity was increasingly apparent, if they intended to retain their position, of fortifying certain points in the neighborhood. The two regarded of greatest importance were the heights of Dorchester and Charlestown. The former presenting superior inducements, it was determined to occupy and fortify that first, and, afterwards, the latter.

The Americans having learned the intentions of the British general, it became a serious question what course was most prudent for them to adopt. For a time, a difference of opinion prevailed among the American patriots; but, at length, the committee of safety recommended to the council of war to occupy and fortify Bunker's hill at once, and Dorchester heights (now South Boston), as early after as practicable.

In conformity with this suggestion, on the following day (16th June), General Ward issued orders to Colonel Prescott to proceed to Charlestown, and occupy and fortify Bunker's hill.

The troops detached for this service, amounted to about one thousand men. They were ordered to take provisions but for a single day. In the early part of the evening of the 16th, they were mustered on Cambridge common, near the colleges. They were commended to the protection and guidance of Almighty God, in a prayer by President Langdon; after which, led by the valiant Prescott, attired in a _calico frock_, and himself preceded by two sergeants with dark lanterns, and accompanied by Colonel Gridley and Judge Winthrop of Cambridge, they took their destined path.

Having reached the ground, a question arose which of the two hills was intended as Bunker's hill. The northern eminence was more generally spoken of under that name, while the southern, commonly called Breed's hill, was evidently the one best fitted for the purpose. After long deliberation, it was decided to construct the principal work on Breed's hill, and to erect an additional and subsidiary one on Bunker's hill. Accordingly, Captain Gridley proceeded to lay out the principal work. Midnight arrived, however, before a spade entered the ground; there remained therefore less than four hours before day-light, when the operations would, of course, be seen by the British. The men, however, now began, and they _worked_.

Meanwhile, a strong guard, under Captain Manners, was stationed on the Charlestown shore, to watch the enemy. The day had been fair, and it was a clear, star-light night. Colonel Prescott, accompanied by Major Brooks, went down twice to the shore to reconnoitre, and distinctly heard the British sentries relieving guard, and uttering, as they walked their rounds, the customary, but, in this instance deceptive, cry, "All's well!"[32]

The night, on the part of the patriot band, was one of sleepless vigilance and incessant toil. Shovels, pickaxes, and spades, were in incessant motion; and, by four o'clock in the morning, they had thrown up a redoubt, eight rods square and four feet high. At this time, the captain of a British ship, called the _Lively_, discovered the work, and opened a fire upon it. The alarm was given to the British in Boston, and to the men-of-war in the river, and a heavy cannonade was commenced. The fire from a battery of six guns, on Copp's hill, proved most annoying; but the Americans, regardless of bombs and balls, continued their labors with unshaken constancy. The first martyr who had the honor of shedding his blood, on that ever-memorable hill, was a private soldier by the name of _Asa Pollard_, of Billerica, and the shot which killed him was the only one which took fatal effect during the forenoon.

While various movements were in progress, the Americans in the neighborhood of the redoubt were by no means idle. About two hundred yards in the rear of the breastwork was a stone fence surmounted with rails. In front of this, another fence was constructed, and the space between the two filled with hay, which happened to be on the field. A subsidiary work was also hastily thrown up on Bunker's hill, properly so called, by General Putnam.

From the moment the British discovered the operations of the Americans, they well knew the importance of dislodging them from their position. They had expected to attain this object by a cannonade from their batteries and ships of war; but it was soon apparent that other and more effective measures would be necessary. Accordingly, after mature consultation in a council of war, summoned by General Gage, it was resolved to transport a competent force across the river, and attack the works in front.

It was "a day without clouds," and intensely hot. Between mid-day and one o'clock, twenty-eight barges were seen moving from the end of Long wharf towards Morton's point. On board of these were four battalions of infantry and ten of grenadiers. They had six pieces of artillery, one of which was placed in each of the six leading boats.

About two o'clock, a second detachment left Winnisimmett ferry, and joined the first at Morton's point. These were soon after followed by rëinforcements, which landed at Madlin's ship-yard, now the navy-yard near the east end of Breed's hill. These several detachments, amounting to about four thousand men, were under command of General Howe, subordinate to whom were General Pigot, and Colonels Nesbit, Abercrombie, and Clark.

A short time before the action commenced, a horseman was perceived advancing rapidly from Charlestown, towards the American redoubt. It proved to be General Warren, the president of the provincial congress. "Ah!" said Putnam, as the former came up, "is it you, General? I am glad to see you, and yet I regret your presence. Your life is too precious to be thus exposed; but since you are here, let me receive your orders." "No," replied the gallant soldier; "I give no orders! I come as a volunteer; and now say where I can be the most useful." "Go, then," said Putnam, "to the redoubt; you will there be less exposed." "Tell me," rejoined Warren, "where will be the point of greatest danger." "The redoubt will be the enemy's first and principal object," said Putnam; "if we can defend that, the day is ours." Warren passed on, and, as he passed, the troops recognised him, and loud and long were their acclamations. Every bosom felt the impulse of his presence. At the redoubt, Prescott received him, and begged him to receive the command. "Give me a musket," said Warren; "to-day I take a lesson from the veteran soldier in the art of war." Warren could not content himself away from the dangers which were thickening around the patriotic cause. The day previous, he had presided in the congress in session at Watertown, and had spent the entire night in transacting business growing out of his official station. On reaching Cambridge, early in the morning, he received intelligence of the expected battle. He attended a meeting of the committee of safety, of which he was chairman. Here he made known his intention of taking part in the approaching contest. "Your ardent temper," said Gerry, "will carry you forward in the midst of peril, and you will probably fall." "I know that I may fall," replied Warren, "but I should die with shame, were I to remain at home in safety, while my friends and fellow-citizens are shedding their blood, and hazarding their lives in the cause." The honor of Warren is greatly enhanced by the consideration that he was originally opposed to the plan of fortifying the heights of Charlestown, but no sooner had the council of war decided upon that measure, than he gave it his hearty cöoperation. And here we see this brave and patriotic man in the field of battle, and in the midst of danger, having adopted the beautiful sentiment of the Roman poet,

"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori."

The action opened at about three o'clock in the afternoon, at which time a general discharge of artillery was ordered along the whole British line. At the same time, the troops advanced in two divisions. General Howe led the right towards the rail-fence; General Pigot with the left end towards the redoubt.

The march of the British troops was slow, but steady. They wore the aspect of strong confidence and strong determination. Meanwhile, the American drums beat to arms. Quitting his intrenchment, where he was still at work on Bunker's hill, Putnam led his equally determined, but far less disciplined, troops into action. Said this veteran general, in his usual pointed and laconic style, "Fellow-soldiers! powder is scarce, and must not be wasted. Reserve your fire till you see the whites of their eyes. Then take aim at the officers."

This injunction, however, having been disobeyed by a few of the more restless and impetuous, Prescott, proceeding along the lines, said, in a tone of thunder: "The next man that fires before the order is given, shall be instantly shot." It was apparently cruel thus to require troops, whose bosoms were now glowing with burning zeal, to withhold their fire, while the enemy was pouring in his at every step of his progress. It was, however, a wise delay. At length, the British had advanced within eight rods of the redoubt. "Now, men," said Prescott, "now is your time! Make ready! Take aim! Fire!"

And such a deadly fire, perhaps, was never before made; and, when the smoke rolled off, such a sight was perhaps never before seen. The hill-side was covered with the slain. The ranks of the British were broken, and confusion appeared on every side. The British officers attempted to rally their troops. In this, they succeeded so far as to induce them to fire; but, evidently appalled at the fearful and unexpected carnage, they turned, and fled down the hill.

"Following this repulse, there was an ominous pause," says a writer, "like the lull that sometimes interrupts the wildest tempest, only broken by the occasional discharge of artillery from the ships and batteries." It was not, however, of long duration. A second attack was decided upon, and orders issued again to advance. Meanwhile, a deep silence brooded over the American lines, all being intent upon the devastation which had been made, and watching for the future movements of the enemy which had been so signally repulsed. Their success had greatly exceeded their own expectations, and served to inspire them with still more confidence in a second rencontre which they might now momently expect. In the first attack, they had been directed to reserve their fire until the enemy had approached within eight rods; now they must wait until the enemy should approach within six rods.

While the British troops were advancing, suddenly a new spectacle burst upon the eyes of the tens of thousands who were looking on from every neighboring eminence, which greatly added to the sublimity of the scene.

Annoyed in his first attack upon the American redoubt, by the fire of a detachment stationed at Charlestown, General Howe had given directions to fire that town, both by way of revenging the injury he had sustained, and, also, the more to distract the Americans during his second attack, to which he was now advancing. In furtherance of this object, a large quantity of combustibles had been conveyed from Boston, and a detachment of marines, from the Somerset, been landed to set them on fire. The work of conflagration was now commenced. Dense and dark clouds of smoke rose over the town, and at length enveloped the whole peninsula; through this smoke, columns of flame shot up, and flashed in every direction. The fire spread with fearful rapidity from house to house, and from street to street. At length, the flames reached the church, and, climbing its lofty steeple, converted it into a blazing pyramid. The beams, supporting the bell, were burned in sunder, upon which it fell, and while falling, its pealing sounds were distinctly heard by hundreds, uniting with crackling flames and crashing edifices in enhancing the dreadful magnificence of the day.

It was in the midst of a scene of desolation like this--by which property to the amount of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds sterling was destroyed, six hundred buildings consumed, and two thousand people rendered houseless--the two opposing forces were preparing for another sanguinary rencontre. The British general was leading on his troops, as cool and undisturbed as if they had met with no repulse. They opened their fire by platoons, and apparently at random, yet not entirely without effect. Colonels Nixon and Brewer were borne wounded from the works. A ball through his shoulder rendered Colonel Backminster a cripple for life. Major Moore received a shot through the thigh; soon after which, a second ball pierced his body, which subsequently proved mortal.

The Americans had been charged to reserve their fire till the enemy were within six rods. The success which had attended their former delay, now enabled them the more cheerfully to yield obedience to orders, a compliance with which had, in the first instance, seemed nearly impossible. At length, the enemy reached the prescribed distance, when the anticipated words, "Make ready! Take aim! Fire!" were heard in a voice like thunder--and, in an instant, hundreds of men, including a surprising number of principal officers, were seen prostrated in the dust. The fire proved even more destructive than in the first attack. General Howe was left nearly alone, almost every officer of his staff being either killed or wounded. So sweeping had been the destruction, that the ranks were fatally broken, and a second time orders were issued for the British army to make good their retreat.