Johnny Tremain (30 page)

Downstairs in the Newman house he could look in and see a group of officers as usual, almost as always, playing at cards. Their jackets were unbuttoned, their faces flushed. They were laughing and drinking. There was on the second floor one light. Johnny couldn't believe anyone up there could hear him tapping in the street below. Instantly the light went out. He had been heard.

Newman, a sad-faced young man, got out at a second-story window in back, ran across a shed roof, and was in the alley waiting for Johnny.

'One or two?' he whispered.

'Two.'

That was all. Robert Newman seemed to melt away in the dark. Johnny guessed what the little tinkle was he heard. Newman had the keys to Christ's Church in his hand.

The two friends, Paul Revere and Joseph Warren, were standing in the Doctor's surgery. They were alone. Revere was urging Warren to cross with him that very night to Charlestown. If there was fighting tomorrow, Gage would not hesitate to hang him—at last—for high treason. But Warren said no. He would stay and keep track of the British plans until the very last moment.

'The second a shot has been fired, I'll send a messenger to you,' Revere promised.

'I'll wait until then. Why, Revere, I never saw you worry about anything before. I'll be a lot safer tonight than you'll be—catching crabs out on that river. Being short at by the
Somerset.
And falling off horses—I'll not forget you and Parson Tomley's ambling jade.'

He was always ragging Revere about falling off horses. It was some old joke between them which Johnny did not know, and both the men suddenly began to laugh. The mood between them had been heavy when Johnny came in, but now it lightened. They parted as casually as any friends who believe they will meet in a few days. But each knew the other was in deadly peril of his life. It was ten o'clock.

Doctor Warren told his colored man to make up a bed for Johnny in the surgery. The boy could not think of bed. He stole down to the Common to see the 'secret' embarkation. It was almost over, and was no secret. Hundreds of townsfolk stood about silently watching the boats returning from Cambridge shore and taking on yet another scarlet-coated cargo. But where these men were heading and who commanded them, scarce a man in the crowd knew except Johnny. Farther down the river he knew the
Somerset
was on guard. By now Paul Revere was in his boat, trying to steal around her. In Charlestown the horse waited for him.

He saw Sandy step into a boat with never a quiver. He recognized Lieutenant Stranger's own horse and for a moment saw the young man's dark face in the moonlight. Being a horse-minded boy, he noticed that there was a little trouble with a showy white horse built like Sandy, but much younger. This was Major Pitcairn's. Were the marines being sent as well as the grenadiers and light infantry companies? Or was the rough, genial, stout-hearted old major merely going along for the fun of it?

At least, he thought this observation important enough to report to Warren. Other spies had been bringing news of the embarkation. It had been noticed that Pitcairn was not in his usual tavern. He had been seen with a civilian cape wrapped about him heading for the Common. Doubtless he was going. Gage had sent him either because he knew he was a better officer than Colonel Smith or because he had a way with Yankees. Everyone liked the pious, hard-swearing, good-tempered Major Pitcairn.

A barmaid from Hull Street came in to say she had been watching the
Somerset
at just the time Bentley and Richardson were rowing Paul Revere to Charlestown. Not a shot had been fired. It was also known that Billy Dawes had woven and bribed his inebriated way past the guards on the Neck. And the horse he was leading and pretending to try to sell had not looked like much—a thin bony beast in a bridle patched with rope. It was one of the fastest horses in Boston.

Then Doctor Warren told Johnny to lie down and get some sleep. It was almost midnight.

Johnny took off his jacket and boots, rolled up in a blanket on the bed the black man had made for him. The night before and the night before that he had been much upset over Rab's leaving. His thoughts had turned to the empty bed beside him. He had slept badly. Although people were still about the surgery, exchanging ideas, trying to guess what the future might be, he immediately fell asleep.

It was dawn. He was alone in the surgery and still sleeping. But out in Lexington on the Village Green the first shot was fired. One shot and then a volley. And Major Pitcairn was saying, 'Disperse, ye rebels, ye villains, disperse! Why don't ye lay down your arms?'

The war had begun.

It was the dawn of the nineteenth of April. But Johnny Tremain still slept.

S
O
J
OHNNY SLEPT.
It was daylight when he woke with Warren's hand upon his shoulder. Outside on Tremont Street he could hear the clumping of army boots. A sergeant was swearing at his men. The soldiers were paraded so close to the house, which stood flush with the sidewalkless street, that Johnny at first thought they must be in the room.

Doctor Warren dared speak no louder than a whisper.

'I'm going now.'

'Something's happened?'

'Yes.' He motioned Johnny to follow him into the kitchen. This room was on the back of the house. They could talk without danger of being overheard by the troops in the street.

Doctor Warren had on the same clothes as the day before. He had not been to bed. But now his hat was on his head. His black bag of instruments and medicines was packed and on the table. Silently he put milk, bread, herrings beside it, and gestured to Johnny to join him.

'Where did it begin?' asked Johnny.

'Lexington.'

'Who won?'

'They did. Seven hundred against seventy. It wasn't a battle. It was ... just target practice ... for them. Some of our men were killed and the British huzzaed and took the road to Concord.'

'And did they get our supplies there?'

'I don't know. Paul Revere sent for me just after the firing on Lexington Green.'

The young man's usually fresh-colored face was haggard. He knew the seriousness of this day for himself and for his country.

'But everywhere the alarm is spreading. Men are grabbing their guns—marching for Concord. Paul Revere did get through in time last night. Billy Dawes a little later. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of Minute Men are on the march. Before the day's over, there'll be real fighting—not target practice. But Gage doesn't know that it's begun. You see, long before Colonel Smith got to Lexington—just as soon as he heard that Revere had warned the country—he sent back for reinforcements. For Earl Percy. You and I, Johnny, are just about the only people in Boston who know that blood has already been shed.'

'Were many killed—at Lexington?'

'No, not many. They stood up—just a handful. The British fired on them. It was dawn.'

Johnny licked his lips. 'Did they tell you the names of those killed?'

'No. Did Rab get out in time?'

'Yes. Last Sunday.'

The Doctor's clear, blue eyes darkened. He knew what was in Johnny's mind. He picked up his bag. 'I've got to get to them. They'll need surgeons. Then, too, I'd rather die fighting than on a gallows. Gage won't be so lenient now—soon as he learns war has begun.'

'Wait until I get my shoes on.'

'No, Johnny, you are to stay here today. Pick up for me any information. For instance, out of my bedroom window I can see soldiers standing the length of the street 'way over to the Common. You find out what regiments are being sent—and all that. And today go about and listen to what folk are saying. And the names of any the British arrest. We know Gage expects to move his men back here tonight. If so, there'll be a lot of confusion getting them into town. You watch your chance and slip out to me.'

'Where'll I find you?'

'God knows. Ask about.'

'I will do so.'

'They've begun it. We'll end it, but this war ... it may last quite a long time.'

They shook hands silently. Johnny knew that Warren was always conscious of the fact that he had a crippled hand. Everybody else had accepted and forgotten it. The back door closed softly. Warren was gone.

Johnny went to the surgery, put on his boots and jacket. The wall clock said eight o'clock. It was time to be about. There was no leaving by the front door. The soldiers were leaning against it. Through the curtains of the windows he could see the muskets. He noticed the facings on their uniforms. The Twenty-Third Regiment. The narrow course of Tremont Street was filled to the brim and overflowing with the waiting scarlet-coated men. Like a river of blood. He left by the kitchen.

On Cornhill Johnny could feel the subdued excitement. Everyone knew something was happening. No one knew what. Doors and windows were open. People hanging out, calling back and forth or gathered in knots in the street. Johnny kept his eyes and ears open. Everyone knew about that 'secret' expedition last night. Colonel Smith had embarked with seven hundred men and landed in Cambridge. That Gage was sending over at least a thousand fresh troops to support him anyone might guess. But the people of Boston knew no more than Gage that the fighting had begun.

Johnny went to the Province House. All was as usual. The sentries were on guard. Young officers lounged about. One was already in his cups. Johnny could see that a group of them were playing at cards in the south parlor. Perhaps they were finishing off the game they had begun last night.

He knew which was General Gage's bedroom. The curtains were still drawn. Colonel Smith's early call for reserves evidently had not upset the commanding officer. He had given the order which set Percy's First Brigade in motion, had rolled over and gone to sleep.

Johnny went to the Common. He had already seen the tail of Percy's brigade lashing around Doctor Warren's house. The head of this scarlet dragon lay upon the Common. The men were restless, grumbling, spitting, shifting their heavy equipment. Some had already been standing about for three hours. Johnny learned from one of their camp women what was causing the delay. They were waiting to be joined by a detachment of marines. He looked about and saw for himself these twelve hundred men were taking with them cannon and baggage wagons.

The tension among the inhabitants was growing. What had happened? What was going to happen? Shops and schools were closed, and Johnny met a wreath of tiny children advancing and chanting, 'School's done. War's begun.' It looked to him they were shrewder guessers than their elders who were trying to believe that not a shot had been, or would be, fired.

Then from over North Boston way came the brisk rattle of drums. The five hundred marines, billeted all about North Square, arrived at double-quick. They took their places in the ranks. Some were still buckling their equipment or eating the bread that had been tossed to them. They had been hours late, but when they had been notified they came fast.

Tagging after them, looking half-awake and half-dressed, Johnny recognized an old acquaintance. It was Madge, even fatter since her marriage and seemingly more in love than ever. Tears streamed down her thick, red cheeks and, all old animosity forgotten, she flung herself upon Johnny.

'I c-c-can't bear it. But he says he's g-g-got to go.'

Near-by tough little Sergeant Gale was strutting about like a bantam cock, roaring at one of his men whose buttons did not shine. He was pretending not to know that his wife was so nearby. He was really showing off in front of her and approved her presence. Men went to war and women wept. All was as it should be.

'Sure he's got to go,' Johnny comforted Madge; 'but people say Gage is just sending out the brigade for exercise. They've been sitting about barracks catching fleas all winter. Why were the marines late?'

'Gage sent a letter to Major Pitcairn telling him to parade his men. But Pitcairn wasn't to home.'

'Pitcairn went off last night. Second in command to Colonel Smith.'

'Did you know that? The marines didn't know until about ten minutes ago.'