Characters Mentioned
Smith, Lieutenant Colonel Francis – commander of the 10th Regiment, in charge of the expedition sent to Concord to seize rebel stores
Howe, Corporal John – servant of Captain Browne. Spy
Gage, General Thomas – military governor and commanding general of British forces stationed in Boston
Browne, Captain John – 10th Regiment. One of three spies sent to Worcester and Concord
Hall, Captain – billeted in the same privately owned Boston house as Captain Browne
Pitcarin, Major John – commander of the Marines. Second in command of the forces sent to
Concord
Percy, Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Earl – commander of the First Brigade, in charge of the relief column that rescued Colonel Smith’s forces
Mitchell, Major Edward – 10the Regiment. In command of a body of officers assigned to intercept express riders prior to the raid upon Concord
DeBerniere, Ensign Henry – 10th Regiment, spy, scout for Colonel Smith
Buttrick, Major John – second in command of the Concord militiaman
Burgoyne, General John – one of three general officers in route to Boston from England
Howe, General William – one of three general officers in route to Boston
Clinton, General Henry – one of three general officers in route to Boston
Adams, Samuel – Continental Congress delegate. Leader of the rebel patriots of Massachusetts
Hancock, John – Rich Boston merchant. Continental Congress delegate
Warren, Dr. Joseph – Second to Sam Adams in the Sons of Liberty leadership
Map
Chapter 5, “Officers Company,” Section 1
Pivoting on the Province House’s top step, Lieutenant Colonel Francis Smith harangued the enlisted man reluctantly following him.
“Howe! Be quick, I say!”
“Sir! I need t'be washin’. Shavin’. I be out t’be havin’ me breakfast.”
“Corporal, you’re under me now! Tell me nothing about your breakfast!”
“Sir! T’be seein’ General Gage! I …”
Smith hurried down the steps. “The General will brook no delay!” He seized the corporal’s right arm.
Howe had returned to Boston shortly after 2 a.m. He had entered the house where he and Captain Browne were billeted, had collapsed on his bed, and had immediately slept. He had disturbed no one, not the house’s owner, his wife and two children, not Browne and Captain Hall lodged upstairs, and not Hall’s servant, with whom Howe shared a room.
He had awakened to see sunlight on his blanket. Tom, the servant, had been snoring. Determined to steal a final hour of independence, Howe had risen quietly. Avoiding the activity in the kitchen, he had passed unnoticed out the front door. His destination had been the tavern four blocks along King Street where he would use Colonel Smith’s gold to enjoy a final meal of pastry, beef, and ale. There he would make a final entry in his journal. The very last person he had expected to meet had been the Colonel.
Entering the outer room of General Gage's headquarters, Colonel Smith and Howe passed the pit-faced adjutant. “Colonel!” a voice exclaimed as Smith entered the room next to the General’s office. “The brandy is well used! You must content yourself with port!”
“Stuff! I know where he keeps his best!” Colonel Smith sallied forth. Like trawlers before a frigate three officers standing in the way parted.
“That you do!” the voice guffawed. About to say more, seeing Howe, the officer stiffened.
Faces. Seven or eight faces were staring. Howe recognized several. Squat Major John Pitcairn of the Royal Marines; Hugh, Earl Percy, the bony but youthful commander of the First Brigade; beside a large liquor table Major Edward Mitchell, commanding officer of the 5th Regiment. They had been taking their bumpers freely, surprisingly early, Howe judged; but that was a strange criticism for him to make, wasn’t it, considering where and when he had downed recently his own alehouse liquor!
“Gentlemen, see what I have swept off King Street!” Colonel Smith shouted, brandy bottle in his left hand, oblivious of the transgression he had committed.
“Aye, your recent traveling companion and tavairn frequenter, is it not?” Major Pitcairn answered in his Scottish brogue.
The fat officer’s face soured. “You ill use me, sir.” he answered. “Pray do not excite a resentment I cannot govern.”
“In jest, sair. I speak only in jest, pray be assured.” Grinning, Pitcairn reached out, patted Smith’s right shoulder.
“Yes, yes. Least of all do we wish to witness you ungoverned!” the officer that had hailed Smith jested.
Smith frowned, afterward grimaced. Recognizing high spirits, not malice, he did not speak.
“Here now!” a voice declared. “Extraordinary! The mumchance cove, frequenting the very quarters of the highest command!” Holding two glasses, one half empty and the other full, Major Mitchell advanced.
Enmity glistened in his rheumy eyes.
“I shall not permit this! God’s life, I shall not! Unless, ….” Mitchell’s eyebrows arched. “Unless, you accept this offering without complaint!”
The officers guffawed. Howe’s face colored. He took the filled glass.
Mitchell nodded, stepped back. His eyes continued their inspection. Howe heard a door open and close.
“Drink up, lad! Ye are not standing in the veritable lion’s den!” Pitcairn declared. “By delivairing ye upon us, the good Colonel has in his inimitable fashion commended ye!”
“An order, corporal,” Major Mitchell said. “You are not half drunk enough for officers' company!”
Self-consciously, Howe raised his glass. Looking between Pitcairn and Mitchell, he saw General Gage approaching.
De Berniere had twice criticized the General within Howe’s hearing. Standing before Gage days ago, recalling the criticism, Howe had taken a different opinion. He had liked the commanding officer’s conduct; he had appreciated greatly the General’s courtesy and flattery. His conversation with the General had caused him to question much of the criticism he had heard at Captain Browne’s weekly card games.
That cloudy March morning De Berniere had said that “Tommy Gage” had a kind word for just about everybody, including the rebels! The General was practically a provincial! He had lived in the Colonies too many years! His wife was not an English gentlewoman. She was a New Jersey Tory. According to De Berniere, General Gage mistook the provincial. “Would you believe, Captain, he respects the miscreant!” How surprising, that coming from De Berniere, after what he and Browne had just suffered. Despite his cleverness and quick thinking, like most high-born officers De Berniere believed what he wanted. Because he was a commoner, Howe thought differently. Maybe because he had spent so many years in the colonies, “Tommy Gage” did, also.
Howe recalled the old man he had bought food from in Lexington, how the man had been cleaning his musket. When Howe had asked him what he was going to kill, being so old he probably couldn't see far down his gun barrel, the man had said, “A flock of redcoats at Boston. They be very good marks.” Well how old was he? Howe had asked. “Seventy-seven.”
De Berniere didn’t know these people. Neither did these rooster-crowing majors and colonels, swallowing the General’s liquor. He believed he did, and he suspected General Gage did, too.
“Corporal Howe. Very happy to see you.”
Major Pitcairn stepped back to provide the General space.
“I hope, corporal, that you bear useful information.”
“Thank you, sir. I … I d’cross the River early this morning. I didn’t expect t’ ….” His face was hot. “I ‘ave ‘ere my report.”
“Excellent. Let me have it.” The General accepted the rolled up papers.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He felt foolish. Other than to say “yes sir” and “no sir” and “thank you, sir,” how could an unlettered cove such as he speak to a general?
Half-smiling, Gage said: “Tell me about the provincials. How well do you like the rebels?”
“I’d not be wantin’ t’fall into their ‘ands, sir!” Worried immediately that he had misspoken, he was startled by Pitcairn’s jovial laugh.
“No, lad, I suspect you wouldn’t.”
“Sir, I … by your leave, ….”
“Yes?”
He winced. What was he going to say now?! he thought. Going to have to say?! He gazed downward. “Would you ... would y’be returnin’ the papers t’ me, sir, … after y’be readin’ ‘em, sir?”
The General’s mouth widened into a smile. “I see.” Gripping loosely the rolled papers, he tapped his sash. “The author wishes to keep his manuscript. Just so. You shall have it, later, corporal, after I have read it, and, depending on its content, perhaps you will receive something more.” The Commanding General regarded him with quiet humor.
Howe heard again Pitcairn’s hearty laugh. Gazing over Howe’s left shoulder, Gage made a beaconing gesture. The pockmark-faced adjutant, his right palm pressed gently against his chest, advanced. “Captain, take possession of these papers.” Addressing Howe, Gage said, off-handedly, “Young man. Take this. Get yourself some liquor.” Amazed, Howe received the guinea offered him. The Commanding Officer nodded. “Major Mitchell is correct. You are indeed not half drunk enough for officers’ company.”
Headed for the doorway, Howe stopped. He turned about. He had been dismissed, hadn’t he? “Sir?” he asked, tentatively.
It occurred to him then that they had tolerated him because he had provided them entertainment. He had been paid for his performance.
“Return here at eleven o’clock, Corporal Howe,” Gage said authoritatively, “at which time you may retrieve your manuscript.”
“Gentlemen, I should inform you of Corporal Howe's late accomplishment. I dispatched Colonel Smith and the corporal to Worcester to ascertain the site and quantity of its stored munitions. Misfortune precluded the Colonel’s participation. Visiting Concord as well, exhibiting manifest ingenuity, Corporal Howe completed the assignment.”
“What ye be saying, sir,” Major Pitcairn declared, “is he’s a damn good spy!”
Hearing cautious laughter, Howe blushed.
Eyes shining, the Scotsman joined the drove of officers facing Howe and the General. “Tell me, lad,” he said spiritedly. “How did ye do it? How’d ye make the gillie the fool?”
Shaved, washed, properly attired, Howe had returned punctually at eleven o’clock. Here he was sipping brandy, the focus of everybody’s attention, the liquor, he thought, not having the power to enlarge one centimeter more his swelled head.
Colonel Smith’s small, round eyes peered. “Give us the particulars, man! Let us hear the particulars!”
“Yes sir.” Glancing at Pitcairn, Howe questioned where to begin. “Colonel Smith and me, … when we left Boston, we d’pretend we was provincials wantin' work.”
Stealing a look at Smith, Major Pitcairn grinned.
The Colonel frowned. “Come. Come. We know that. Skip the preliminaries. Press on!”
“Yes sir!” Howe cleared his throat. “After the Colonel d’come back,” he said, addressing Pitcairn, “I told anybody I d’meet I'd take whatever they d'offer me, but I be trained t'repair guns. I figured I’d be fetched t'where they had all their weapons. Major Buttrick in Concord, the militia officer, he himself set me t'work; an’ later I said I’d fixed a few more guns. But then I told ‘em I could make ‘em some, but I d'need my tools. I'd go back to Pownalborough t'go fetch 'em.”
“Well done, corporal! God’s breath, well done!” Colonel Smith's meaty hand thumped Howe’s left shoulder.
Hearing easy laughter, Howe beamed.
“By your own account, corporal,” -- Major Mitchell was speaking to him -- “you are, it would seem, a skillful dissembler. But I wonder. You paint your portrayal of the rebel with an extraordinarily broad stroke.” He peered over his raised brandy glass. “Gullible. A bit too gullible, I should think.”
“You, … you're sayin' I didn't … you're sayin' I didn't coney ‘em, sir?”
“That is my meaning.”
Of course he hadn't! Not all of them! Had he said that? Blaterooning high, he had forgotten about this officer! Like Howe’s company sergeant, like Browne just about every day, Mitchell was baiting him. Painting him the mooncalf. Despite, or because of what he had accomplished. Bugger that! He’d do exactly what Mitchell said he was good at. Dissemble! He guessed he knew what “dissemble” meant!
“Sir, they didn't all believe me, no sir.” But his cheeks were hot! “You see, there was rumors about” Too damn hot! “Spies had been sent out.”
“That was my understanding,” General Gage said.
Pitcairn snorted. Two officers guffawed. A third officer, laughing while swallowing brandy, choked.
Eyes glittering, Gage said, almost apologetically, “Forgive ... my interjection of humor. Do continue.”
Two officers behind the General grinned.
“Yes sir. I ….” Howe looked at Mitchell. The Major’s expression hadn’t changed. “I didn’t fool all o’them, sir. No sir. Not right off. I asked two teamsters on the road, near Worcester, if anybody wanted t’hire. They said, 'We don't know o' nobody that wants t'hire a Englishman.' They said I be like them rascals they saw in Boston. After that I hurried right along.”
More laughter.
Mitchell’s eyes bored.
“Depend upon it, gentlemen,” Major Pitcairn declared. “'Them rascals will soon give those rascals little ease! In truth, they’ll have the living hell to pay!”
“Just so, Pitcairn!” Colonel Smith exclaimed. “You have stolen my words!”
Mitchell raised his glass in salute.
“Sir, I commend you for your forbearance.” The previously silent Earl Percy, standing behind Pitcairn, had spoken. The Scotsman and Mitchell turned to face him.
“I … do not take your meaning, Sir Hugh,” General Gage responded, ending a brief silence.
“I mean, sir, that many of the younger officers, in your stead, would have addressed our difficulties quite differently.”
The silence this time persisted.
A floorboard creaked. Major Pitcairn cleared his throat.
“You speak, Colonel Percy, of … my reluctance to punish? To arrest their leaders?” The Commanding Officer raised his chin. “Pray explain yourself.”
“More particularly, in the face of egregious provocation, of your refusal to invade the interior, willy-nilly.”
Howe was stunned.
The General’s face darkened. His right hand closed.
“We all know what they think of me!. Their opinion is shared by many of higher authority!” He glared. “Soon I shall be replaced, recent rumor has it, by one of three ‘illustrious’ generals, sent by London to instruct me with their infinite wisdom!”
“John Burgoyne, William Howe, and ….”
“Clinton. Yes, Major, that is correct. Henry Clinton. They in the cabinet do not share my assessment. They believe that the provincial lacks conviction; with a display of arms he may be readily subdued. 5,000 men are sufficient to engage in offensive operations, they say. In truth, as a defensive force they barely suffice!”
Howe was awe-struck.
“The arrest of Samuel Adams, Merchant Hancock, and Doctor Warren, however desirous for many, would, your lordship, be a violation of constitutional law! It would ignite a passion of rebellion heretofore unseen in this colony!” Scowling, General Gage deposited his wineglass on the small table situated behind him. “But they in London do not believe so! They at their comfortable distance perceive all!”
“Men who rise to high positions in government,” Earl Percy responded, “too frequently perceive themselves omniscient.”
“Well, Colonel,” the General said, blinking, “no one has accused me yet of that!”
Major Pitcairn guffawed. Several officers dared to smirk. Recognizing belatedly the humor in his remark, Gage, of a sudden, winked.
Howe joined the delayed laughter. He liked what the General had said. He sensed also why Percy was respected by many of the men in his brigade.
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