From Kingdom to Colony
own. But Humphrey and John died in their father's lifetime; and so it
was that Robert, the second son, became the heir.
CHAPTER I
Marblehead, and July, in the year of our Lord 1774.
In the harbor (now known as Great Bay) the water lay, a smooth,
glistening floor of amethystine hue, shut in protectively by the
"Neck," thrust out like a strong arm between it and the rougher sea
beyond, stretching, purple and endless, to the rim of the cloudless
horizon.
To the north and northwest lay the islands, the nearer ones sharply
outlined in trees and verdure, but showing here and there a grayness of
beach or boulder, like the bald spot among some good man's otherwise
plentiful locks.
Looking eastward, Cat Island was closest of all to the mainland, the
charred ruins upon it showing sharply in the brilliant afternoon
sunshine; and here, amid the desolation, a few of the blackened timbers
still remained upright, like arms lifted in protest against the
vengeance visited upon the hospital a short time before by the
well-meant zeal of the infuriated townsfolk.
In August of the previous year, during an epidemic of smallpox, a
meeting was called in the townhouse, and Elbridge Gerry, John Glover,
Azor Orne, and Jonathan Glover petitioned that a hospital be built on
Cat Island, for the treatment of smallpox patients, or else that the
town permit certain individuals to do this at their own expense.
The town refused to build the hospital, but gave permission to the
individuals to construct one, provided the adjoining town of Salem gave
its consent; it being also stipulated that the hospital should be so
regulated as to shield the inhabitants of Marblehead from any "danger
of infection" therefrom.
The necessary approval having been obtained from Salem, preparations
were made in September for erecting the hospital.
By this time some of the people of Marblehead had become impressed with
the fear that by the establishing of the hospital the dread disease
would become a prevailing pest amongst them. Their terror made them
unreasonable, and they now fiercely opposed the scheme to which they
had once given their consent, and demanded that the work be abandoned;
but the proprietors, filled with indignation at what they considered
rank injustice, persisted in carrying out their worthy project to
completion.
In October the hospital was finished, and placed in charge of an
eminent physician from Portsmouth, who had attained a wide reputation
for his success in the treatment of smallpox. Several hundred patients
came under his care, with gratifying results. But a few had died, and
this fact brought about bitter and active hostility from the
malcontents. They demanded that the place be abandoned at once; and
threats of violence began to be made.
The feeling gained in strength and intensity, until at length the
proprietors gave up the contest. And then, to assure themselves that
the hospital should not be reopened, a party of the townspeople,
closely disguised, crossed to Cat Island one night in the following
January, and left the buildings in flames.
But now these summer weeks found the town excited and tumultuous over
still graver matters. The British government had found it
impracticable to enforce the duty upon tea, and resorting to
subterfuge, adopted a compromise whereby the East India Company,
hitherto the greatest losers by the diminution of its exports from
Great Britain, was authorized to send its goods to all places free of
duty.
Although the tea would now become cheaper for the colonists, they were
not deceived by this new ministerial plan. And when the news was
received that the East India Company had freighted ships with tea
consigned to its colonial agents, meetings were held to devise measures
to prevent the sale or unloading of the tea within the province.
The agents, when waited upon by the committee chosen for that purpose
in Boston, refused flatly to promise that the tea should not be
unloaded or sold by them; and they were forthwith publicly stigmatized
as enemies to their country, and resolutions were adopted providing
that they, and all such, should be dealt with accordingly.
In December, 1773, the historical "Tea Party" took place in Boston
harbor; and in the following spring Governor Hutchinson resigned, and
General Thomas Gage was appointed in his stead.
Bill after bill was passed in Parliament and sanctioned by the King,
having in view but the single object of bringing the people of
Massachusetts to terms. The quartering of English troops in Boston was
made legal. Town meetings were prohibited except by special permission
from the Governor. And finally the infamous "Port Bill" was passed,
which removed the seat of government to Salem, and closed the port of
Boston to commerce.
In July subscriptions were being solicited by order of the town of
Marblehead for the relief of the poor of Boston, who were suffering
from the operation of the "Port Bill," and all the buildings which
could be utilized, even to the town-house, were placed at the disposal
of the merchants, for the storage of their goods.
In defiance of Parliament, whose act had practically suppressed all
town meetings, the people of Marblehead continued to assemble and
express their views, and discuss the grave questions then agitating the
entire country. The very air of the sea seemed to murmur of war and
the rumors of war; and the hearts of thinking men and women were heavy
with forebodings of the struggle they felt to be imminent.
But the little town was lying brooding and peaceful this July
afternoon. Its wooded hills to the west sent shadows across the grassy
meadows and slopes, rising and falling to meet the sand-beaches, or
ending in the headlands of granite that made sightly outlooks from
which to scan the sea for threatening ships.
Under the pines that made shadows along the way, a horseman was going
leisurely along the road leading to the Fountain Inn.
To his left lay level meadow lands, rising into hills as they neared
the inn, the old Burial Hill--the town's God's Acre--being highest of
all. To his right, the green fields and marshes stretched unbroken to
the sea, save for here and there a clump of bushes and tangled vines,
or a thicket of wild roses. The road before him ended in two branches,
one leading to the rising ground on the right, where stood the Fountain
Inn, while to the left it terminated in a sandy beach, before which
stretched the peaceful waters of Little Harbor, now whitened with the
sails of East Indian commerce, and the craft belonging to the fishing
fleets that plied their yearly trade to the "Banks" and to Boston.
No large ship could come nigh the shore in Little Harbor; whereas in
the deep bay lying between the Neck and the town, the enemy's vessels
might anchor by the land itself. And here the townsfolk kept a most
active lookout, which left the hills and beaches of Little Harbor
almost deserted.
CHAPTER II
The bridle was lying slack upon the neck of the horse, who picked his
way carefully along the road, his hoofs now clicking over the stony
highway, now falling noiselessly upon the brown pine needles. And the
occasional clatter of his shoes, or the busy chatter of a squirrel high
up in a tree, were the only sounds to interrupt the musings of the
stalwart rider, whose head was bowed, and whose eyes strayed moodily
about.
He was dark and tall, well knit, and of powerful build, yet lithe and
graceful. The wandering breeze whipped out stray curling locks about
his ears and temples from the mass of dark hair done up in a queue.
The broad-brimmed riding-hat was pulled well down over his strongly
marked brows, and the smooth-shaven face betrayed the compressed lips
of the large but finely formed mouth.
A flash of something white speeding across the road a few yards in
front of him caused the dark eyes to open wide, and brought his musings
to a sudden end.
Across the marshes to the left he caught a glimpse of twinkling feet,
encased in low steel-buckled shoes that seemed to be bearing away from
him a fleeting cloud of white drapery.
It was a female, with her so-called "cut" (a dress-skirt so narrow and
straight as to make rapid movement very difficult) thrown up over her
head and shoulders, as she went over the grass toward the beach at the
side of the road facing the Neck.
Recognizing her at once, the horseman called out, "Dorothy!" and
spurred his horse out of the road and across the marsh.
As though hearing him, she paused, and without lowering the "cut,"
turned to look over her shoulder.
The wind, catching her dress, blew the white folds aside, showing a
roguish face, and one bearing a strong family resemblance to the man in
pursuit. But her features were small and delicate, while his, although
not lacking in refinement, were far bolder in strength of outline.
She had the same dark eyes, set far apart under delicate but firmly
marked brows,--the same swart curling lashes, and riotous locks.
But here the likeness ceased; for while his face was grave, and full of
a set purpose and resolution, hers was almost babyish, and full of
witchery, with a peachy bloom coming and going in the rounded cheeks.
She was panting a little from her running, and now stood, waiting for
him to speak, her red lips parted in a mocking smile that showed two
rows of little teeth, white as the meat of a hazel-nut.
"What mischief have you been up to, you little rogue, and why are you
running away from me?" he asked. He spoke with quiet good nature, but
looked down at her with an elder brother's reproof showing in his face.
She did not answer, but only glanced up at him from the sheltering
folds of the skirt, billowing about her face like a cloud, while the
horse, recognizing a loved playmate, whinnied, and bowed his head to
her shoulder as if mutely begging a caress.
"You have been to see Moll Pitcher again," the young man asserted; "and
you know our father would be angry that you should do it. And 't is
very wrong, Dorothy, in these times, that you should be over in this
part of the town alone."
Her brother called her so rarely by her full name that a change from
the caressing "Dot" to the solemn-sounding "Dorothy" was a sure mark of
his displeasure.
The smile died from her face, and her eyes fell. But she looked
mutinous, as she raised a small hand to stroke the horse's nose.
"I did not come alone, Jack," she explained. "Leet rowed me over, and
Pashar came with us; and I had little 'Bitha, too."
"An old darkey, who sits dozing in the boat, half a mile away from you,
with his twelve-year-old grandson, and little Tabitha! These make a
fine protection, truly, had you met with soldiers or other troublesome
people," he said with some sarcasm. "Do you not know there was a new
vessel, filled with British soldiers, went into Salem harbor
yesterday--and belike they are roaming about the country to-day?" He
switched his riding-boot as he spoke, scowling as though the mention of
the matter had awakened vengeful thoughts.
"Hugh Knollys has but just ridden over from Salem; and he said they
were all housed there, along with the Governor," the girl said eagerly,
glad to find something to say in her defence, as well as to turn the
current of her brother's thoughts.
"Hugh Knollys!" he repeated. "Has he been at our house this day?"
"No-o," she answered hesitatingly. "We met him just now as we came out
of Moll's. He is at the Fountain Inn."
"We," he said, a smile showing about the corners of his lips. "Are you
His Gracious Majesty, Dot, that you speak of yourself as 'We'?"
At the sound of her baby name, all the brightness returned to her face,
and glancing up at him, she whispered mischievously, "Look in the