 | CHAPTER VII. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
“When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
“Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.”
King Henry VI
Two or three days of fine, balmy, spring weather
succeeded to the storm, during which Lionel
saw no more of his aged fellow-voyager. Job,
however, attached himself to the British soldier
with a confiding helplessness that touched the
heart of his young protector, who gathered from
the circumstance a just opinion of the nature
of the abuses that the unfortunate changeling
was frequently compelled to endure from the brutal
soldiery. Meriton performed the functions
of master of the wardrobe to the lad, by Lionel's
express commands, with evident disgust, but
with manifest advantage to the external appearance,
if with no very sensible evidence of
additional comfort to his charge. During this
short period, the slight impression made on Lionel
by the scene related in the preceding chapter,
faded before the cheerful changes of the
season, and the increasing interest which he
felt in the society of his youthful kinswomen.
Polwarth relieved him from all cares of a domestic
nature, and the peculiar shade of sadness,
which at times had been so very perceptible in
brightening and cheerful character. Polwarth
and Lionel had found an officer, who had formerly
served in the same regiment with them in the
British Islands, in command of a company of
grenadiers, which formed part of the garrison of
Boston. This gentleman, an Irishman of the
name of M'Fuse, was qualified to do great
honour to the culinary skill of the officer of light-infantry,
by virtue of a keen natural gusto for
whatever possessed the inherent properties of a
savoury taste, though utterly destitute of any of
that remarkable scientific knowledge which might
be said to distinguish the other in the art. He
was, in consequence of this double claim on the
notice of Lionel, a frequent guest at the nightly
banquets prepared by Polwarth. Accordingly
we find him, on the evening of the third day in
the week, seated with his two friends, around a
board plentifully garnished by the care of that
gentleman, on the preparations for which, more
than usual skill had been exerted, if the repeated
declarations of the disciple of Heliogabulus, to
that effect, were entitled to any ordinary credit.
“In short, Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth, in
continuance of his favourite theme, while seated
before the table, “a man may live any where,
provided he possesses food—in England, or out
of England, it matters not. Raiment may be
necessary to appearance, but food is the only
indispensable that nature has imposed on the animal
world; and in my opinion there is a sort of
obligation on every man to be satisfied, who has
wherewithal to appease the cravings of his appetite—Captain
M`Fuse, I will thank you to cut that
surloin with the grain.”
“What matters it Polly”—said the captain of
grenadiers, with a slight Irish accent, and with
in his fine, open, manly features, “which way a
bit of meat is divided, so there be enough to allay
the cravings of the appetite, you will remember!”
“It is a collateral assistance to nature that
should never be neglected,” returned Polwarth,
whose gravity and seriousness at his banquets
were not easily disturbed; “it facilitates mastication
and aids digestion, two considerations of
great importance to military men, sir, who have
frequently such little time for the former, and no
rest after their meals to complete the latter.”
“He reasons like an army contractor, who
wishes to make one ration do the work of two,
when transportation is high,” said M`Fuse, winking
to Lionel. “According to your principles,
then, Polly, a potato is your true campaigner,
for that is a cr'ature you may cut any way without
disturbing the grain, provided the article be a
little m'aly.”
“Pardon me, captain M`Fuse,” said Polwarth,
“a potato should be broken, and not cut at all—
there is no vegetable more used, and less understood
than the potato.”
“And is it you, Pater Polwarth, of Nesbitt's
light-infantry,” interrupted the grenadier, laying
down his knife and fork with an air of infinite
humour, “that will tell Dennis M`Fuse how to
carve a potato! I will yield to the right of an
Englishman over the chivalry of an ox, your sirloins,
and your lady-rumps, if you please, but in
my own country, one end of every farm is a
bog, and the other a potato-field—'tis an Irishman's
patrimony that you are making so free with,
sir!”
“The possession of a thing, and the knowledge
how to use it, are two very different properties—”
“Give me the property of possession, then,”
again interrupted the ardent grenadier, “especially
when a morsel of the green island is in dispute;
and trust an old soldier of the Royal Irish to
carve his own enjoyments. Now, I'll wager a
month's pay, and that to me is as much as if the
Major should say, done for a thousand, that you
can't tell how many dishes can be made, and are
made every day in Ireland, out of so simple a
thing as a potato.”
“You roast and boil; and use them in stuffing
tame birds, sometimes, and—”
“All old woman's cookery!” interrupted
M`Fuse, with an affectation of great contempt
in his manner—“now, sir, we have them with
butter, and without butter, that counts two;
then we have the fruit p'aled; and—”
“Impaled,” said Lionel, laughing. “I believe
this nice controversy must be referred to Job,
who is amusing himself in the corner there, I
see, with the very subject of the dispute transfixed
on his fork, in the latter condition.”
“Or suppose, rather,” said M`Fuse, “as it is a
matter to exercise the judgment of Solomon, we
make a potato umpire of master Seth Sage, yonder,
who should have some of the wisdom of the
royal Jew, by the sagacity of his countenance, as
well as of his name.”
“Don't you call Seth r'yal,” said Job, suspending
his occupation on the vegetable. “The
king is r'yal and fla'nty, but neighbour Sage lets
Job come in and eat, like a christian.”
“That lad there, is not altogether without reason,
Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth; “on the
contrary, he discovers an instinctive knowledge of
good from evil, by favouring us with his company
at the hour of meals.”
“The poor fellow finds but little at home to
“and as he was one of the first acquaintances I
made on returning to my native land, I have desired
Mr. Sage to admit him at all proper hours;
and especially, Polwarth, at those times when he
can have an opportunity of doing homage to your
skill.”
“I am glad to see him,” said Polwarth, “for
I love an uninstructed palate, as much as I admire
naiveté in a woman.—Be so good as to favour me
with a cut from the breast of that wild-goose,
M`Fuse—not quite so far forward, if you please;
your migratory birds are apt to be tough about the
wing—but simplicity in eating is, after all, the
great secret of life; that and a sufficiency of food.”
“You may be right this time,” replied the grenadier,
laughing, “for this fellow made one of
the flankers of the flock, and did double duty in
wheeling, I believe, or I have got him against
the grain too! But, Polly, you have not told us
how you improve in your light-infantry exercises
of late.”
By this time Polwarth had made such progress
in the essential part of his meal, as to have recovered
in some measure his usual tone of good-nature,
and he answered with less gravity—
“If Gage does not work a reformation in our
habits, he will fag us all to death. I suppose you
know, Leo, that all the flank companies are relieved
from the guards to learn a new species of
exercise. They call it relieving us, but the only
relief I find in the matter, is when we lie down to
fire—there is a luxurious moment or two then, I
must confess!”
“I have known the fact, any time these ten
days, by your moanings,” returned Lionel; “but
what do you argue from this particular exercise,
captain M`Fuse? does Gage contemplate more
than the customary drills?”
“You question me now, sir, on a matter in
which I am uninstructed,” said the grenadier;
“I am a soldier, and obey my orders, without
pretending to inquire into their objects or merits;
all I know is, that both grenadiers and light-infantry
are taken from the guards; and that we
travel over a good deal of solid earth each day,
in the way of marching and counter-marching, to
the manifest discomfiture and reduction of Polly—
there, who loses flesh as fast as he gains ground.”
“Do you think so, Mac?” cried the delighted
captain of light-infantry; “then I have not all the
detestable motion in vain. They have given us
little Harry Skip as a drill officer, who I believe
has the most restless foot of any man in his majesty's
service. Do you join with me in opinion, master
Sage? you seem to meditate on the subject as
if it had some secret charm.”
The individual to whom Polwarth addressed
this question, and who has been already named,
was standing with a plate in his band, in an attitude
that bespoke close attention, with a sudden and
deep interest in the discourse, though his eyes
were bent on the floor, and his face was averted
as if, while listening earnestly, he had a particular
desire to be unnoticed. He was the owner of
the house in which Lionel had taken his quarters.
His family had been some time before removed
into the country, under the pretence of his inability
to maintain them in a place destitute of business
and resources like Boston; but he remained
himself, for the double purpose of protecting
his property and serving his guests. This man
partook, in no small degree, of the qualities, both
of person and mind, which distinguish a large class
among his countrymen. In the former he was
rather over than under the middle stature; was
thin, angular, and awkward, but possessing an unusual
were small, black, scintillating, and it was not
easy to fancy that the intelligence they manifested
was unmingled with a large proportion of shrewd
cunning. The rest of his countenance was meager,
sallow, and rigidly demure. Thus called
upon, on a sudden, by Polwarth for an opinion,
Seth answered, with the cautious reserve with
which he invariably delivered himself—
“The adjutant is an uneasy man, but that, I
suppose, is so much the better for a light-infantry
officer. Captain Polwarth must find it considerable
jading to keep the step, now the General
has ordered these new doings with the soldiers.”
“And what may be your opinion of these doings,
as you call them, Mr Sage,” asked M`Fuse;
“you who are a man of observation, should understand
your countrymen; will they fight?”
“A rat will fight if the cats pen him,” said Seth,
without raising his eyes from his occupation.
“But do the Americans conceive themselves
to be penned?”
“Why, that is pretty much as people think,
captain; the country was in a great toss about
the stamps and the tea, but I always said such
folks as didn't give their notes-of-hand, and had
no great relish for any thing more than country
food, wouldn't find themselves cramped by the
laws, after all.”
“Then you see no great oppression in being
asked to pay your bit of a tax, master Sage,”
cried the grenadier, “to maintain such a worthy
fellow as myself in a dacent equipage to fight
your battles.”
“Why, as to that captain, I suppose we can
do pretty much the whole of our own fighting,
when occasion calls; though I don't think
there is much stomach for such doings among the
people, without need.”
“But what do you think the Committee of
Safety, and your `Sons of Liberty,' as they call
themselves, really mean, by their parades of `minute-men,'
their gathering of provisions, carrying
off the cannon, and such other formidable
and appalling preparations—ha! honest Seth, do
they think to frighten British soldiers with the roll
of a drum, or are they amusing themselves, like
boys in the holy days, with playing war.”
“I should conclude,” said Seth, with undisturbed
gravity and caution, “that the people are
pretty much engaged, and in earnest.”
“To do what?” demanded the Irishman; “to
forge their own chains, that we may fetter them
in truth?”
“Why, seeing that they have burnt the stamps,
and thrown the tea into the harbour,” returned
Seth, “and since that have taken the management
into their own hands, I should rather conclude
that they have pretty much determined to
do what they think best.”
Lionel and Polwarth laughed aloud, and the
former observed—
“You appear not to come to conclusions with
our host, captain M`Fuse, notwithstanding so
much is determined. Is it well understood, Mr.
Sage, that large reinforcements are coming to
the colonies, and to Boston in particular?”
“Why yes,” returned Seth, “it seems to be
pretty generally contemplated on.”
“And what is the result of these contemplations?”
Seth paused a moment, as if uncertain whether
he was master of the other's meaning, before he
replied—
“Why, as the country is considerably engaged
in the business, there are some who think if the
done without much further words by the people.”
“Do you know,” said Lionel, gravely, “that
such an attempt would lead directly to a civil
war?”
“I suppose it is safe to calculate that such doings
would bring on disturbances,” returned his
phlegmatic host.
“And you speak of it, sir, as a thing not to be
deprecated, or averted by every possible means
in the power of the nation!”
“If the Port is opened and the right to tax
given up,” said Seth, calmly, “I can find a man
in Boston who'll engage to let them draw all the
blood that will be spilt, from his own veins, for
nothing.”
“And who may that redoubtable individual
be, master Sage?” cried M`Fuse; “your own plethoric
person?—How now, Doyle, to what am I
indebted for the honour of this visit?”
This sudden question was put by the captain
of grenadiers to the orderly of his own company,
who at that instant filled the door of the apartment
with his huge frame, in the attitude of
military respect, as if about to address his officer.
“Orders have come down, sir, to parade the
men at half an hour after tattoo, and to be in
readiness for active service.”
The three gentlemen rose together from their
chairs at this intelligence, while M`Fuse, exclaimed—“A
night march! Pooh! We are to be sent
back to garrison-duty I suppose; the companies
in the line grow sleepy, and wish a relief—Gage
might have taken a more suitable time, than to put
gentlemen on their march so soon after such a
feast as this of yours, Polly.”
“There is some deeper meaning to so extraordinary
an order,” interrupted Lionel; “there
no other troops but your company ordered to
parade?”
“The whole battalion is under the same orders,
your honour, and so is the battalion of
Light Infantry; I was commanded to report it
so to Capt. Polwarth, if I saw him.”
“This bears some meaning, gentlemen,” said
Lionel, “and it is necessary to be looked to—if
either corps leaves the town to-night, I will
march with it as a volunteer, for it is my business,
just now, to examine into the state of the
country.”
“That we shall march to-night, is sure, your
honour,” added the sergeant, with the confidence
of an old soldier; “but how far, or on what road,
is known only to the officers of the Staff; though
the men think we are to go out by the colleges.”
“And what has put so learned an opinion in
their silly heads?” demanded his captain.
“One of the men who has been on leave, has
just got in, and reports that a squad of gentlemen
from the army dined near them, your honour,
and that as night set in they mounted and began
to patrole the roads in that direction. He was
met and questioned by four of them as he crossed
the flats.”
“All this confirms my conjectures,” cried Lionel—“there
is a man who might now prove of
important service—Job—where is the simpleton,
Meriton?”
“He was called out, sir, a minute since, and
has left the house.”
“Then send in Mr. Sage,” continued the young
man, musing as he spoke. A moment after it
was reported to him that Seth had strangely disappeared
also.
“Curiosity has led him to the barracks,” said
despatch a little business, and join you there in
an hour; you cannot march short of that time.”
The bustle of a general departure succeeded;
Lionel threw his cloak into the arms of Meriton,
to whom he delivered his orders, took his arms,
and making his apologies to his guests, he left the
house with the manner of one who saw a pressing
necessity to be prompt. M`Fuse proceeded to
equip himself with the deliberation of a soldier
who was too much practised to be easily disconcerted.
Notwithstanding his great deliberation,
the delay of Polwarth, however, eventually vanquished
the patience of the grenadier, who exclaimed,
on hearing the other repeat, for the
fourth time, an order concerning the preservation
of certain viands, to which he appeared to cling
in spirit, after a carnal separation was directed by
fortune.
“Poh! poh! man,” exclaimed the Irishman,
“why will you bother yourself on the eve of a
march, with such epicurean propensities. It's the
soldier who should show your hermits and anchorites
an example of mortification; besides, Polly,
this affectation of care and provision is the less excusable
in yourself, you who have been well aware
that we were to march on a secret expedition this
very night on which you seem so much troubled.”
“I!” exclaimed Polwarth; “as I hope to eat
another meal, I am as ignorant as the meanest
corporal in the army of the whole transaction—
why do you suspect otherwise?”
“Trifles tell the old campaigner when and
where the blow is to be struck,” returned M`Fuse,
coolly drawing his military over-coat tighter to
his large frame; “have I not, with my own eyes,
seen you within the hour, provision a certain captain
of light-infantry after a very heavy fashion!
Damn it, man, do you think I have served these
a garrison begins to fill its granaries, it expects a
siege?”
“I have paid no more than a suitable compliment
to the entertainment of Major Lincoln,”
returned Polwarth; “but so far from having had
any very extraordinary appetite, I have not found
myself in a condition to do all the justice I could
wish to several of the dishes.—Mr. Meriton, I
will thank you to have the remainder of that bird
sent down to the barracks, where my man will receive
it; and as it may be a long march, and
a hungry one, add the tongue, and a fowl, and
some of the ragout; we can warm it up at any
farm-house—we'll take the piece of beef, Mac—
Leo has a particular taste for a cold cut; and you
might put up the ham, also; it will keep better
than any thing else, if we should be out long—and
—and—I believe that will do, Meriton.”
“I am as much rejoiced to hear it as I should
be to hear a proclamation of war read at Charing-Cross,”
cried M`Fuse—“you should have been a
commissary, Polly—nature meant you for an army
suttler!”
“Laugh as you will, Mac,” returned the good-humoured
Polwarth, “I shall hear your thanks
when we halt for breakfast; but I attend you now.”
As they left the house, he continued, “I hope
Gage means no more than to push us a little in
advance, with a view to protect the foragers and
the supplies of the army—such a situation would
have very pretty advantages; for a system might
be established that would give the mess of the
light corps the choice of the whole market.”
“'Tis a mighty preparation about some old iron
gun, which would cost a man his life to put a match
to,” returned M`Fuse, cavalierly; “for my part,
captain Polwarth, if we are to fight these colonists
at all, I would do the thing like a man, and
that when we come to blows it may be a military
affair—as it now stands, I should be ashamed, as
I am a soldier and an Irishman, to bid my fellows
pull a trigger, or make a charge, on a set of peasants
whose fire-arms look more like rusty waterpipes
than muskets, and who have half a dozen
cannon with touch-holes that a man may put his
head in, with muzzles just large enough to throw
marbles.”
“I don't know, Mac,” said Polwarth, while
they diligently pursued their way towards the
quarters of their men; “even a marble may destroy
a man's appetite for his dinner; and the
countrymen possess a great advantage over us in
commanding the supplies—the difference in equipments
would not more than balance the odds.”
“I wish to disturb no gentleman's opinion on
matters of military discretion, captain Polwarth,”
said the grenadier with an air of high martial
pride; “but I take it there exists a material difference
between a soldier and a butcher, though
killing be a business common to both—I repeat,
sir, I hope that this secret expedition is for a more
worthy object than to deprive those poor devils,
with whom we are about to fight, of the means of
making a good battle, and I add, sir, that such is
sound military doctrine, without regarding who
may choose to controvert it.”
“Your sentiments are generous and manly,
Mac; but, after all, there is both a physical and
moral obligation on every man to eat; and if starvation
be the consequence of permitting your enemies
to bear arms, it becomes a solemn duty to
deprive them of their weapons—no—no—I will
support Gage in such a measure, at present, as
highly military.”
“And he is much obliged to you, sir, for your
Polwarth, whenever the Lieutenant-General
Gage finds it necessary to lean on any
one for extraordinary assistance, he will remember
that there is a regiment called the Royal Irish
in the country, and that he is not entirely ignorant
of the qualities of the people of his own nation.—You
have done well, captain Polwarth, to
choose the light-infantry service—they are a set
of foragers, and can help themselves; but the grenadiers,
thank God, love to encounter men, and
not cattle in the field.”
How long the good-nature of Polwarth would
have endured the increasing taunts of the Irishman,
who was exasperating himself, gradually, by
his own arguments, there is no possibility of determining,
for their arrival at the barracks put
an end to the controversy and to the feelings it
was beginning to engender.
| CHAPTER VII. Lionel Lincoln, or, The leaguer of Boston | |