University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE KING'S SHIP.

SEVERAL days after the events which have been detailed in the
last chapter, transpired, a group of persons were seen standing
upon Fort-Hill, then an open green eminence, intently gazing
down the harbor. Another and much larger group was upon Copps
Hill farther to the north, and the summit of the more central height
upon which was erected the Beacon, was literally black with a multitude;
while the piers and roofs of the houses were crowded with
spectators. The bells of the churches were tolling a funeral knell,
minute guns were firing from Long Wharf, and the flags of all the
vessels in the port were hoisted half-mast, as if some great and universal
calamity had befallen the colony.

The object upon which the attention of these numerous spectators
was fixed, was a large ship that was slowly coming up the harbor
under her topsails and top-gallantsails. The wind was very light,
being scarcely strong enough to ripple the shadows of the islands
which were reflected upon the surface of the water.

The ship carried the English ensign, which, at intervals flashed its
red folds out to the view of the eyes of all the people. The same
proud flag floated from from the staff upon the roof of Governor
Hutchinson's mansion, which was near Fort Hill, and commanded
a view of the harbor. The faces of the persons composing the
group upon this eminence, were sad and stern. A fixed gravity had
settled upon their features that was singularly impressive. It seemed
that one profound sentiment filled every mind—one powerful
emotion swelled every bosom. Old men and young, matrons and
maidens, and even children, were alike grave. Silence and awe
rested like a cloud upon every one, accompanied by a painful air of
expectation, like some multitude that has fled to a place of temporary
security from the convulsions of the earth, and now stand
waiting for the next appalling throe that shall shake the solid ground.

Now and then words were interchanged between those who were
nighest to one another, but they were articulated in a depressed cadence.

The ship which was thus the central object of all eyes, and whose
presence cast such an influence over the minds of the citizens of the
town was the “Mentor” from London, and contained the bales of
stamped paper ordered to supply Boston. She had been telegraphed
three hours before, and the intelligence of her arrival in the harbor's
mouth, spread like wildfire throughout the town. All pursuits were
abandoned, and men and women hastened to the nearest elevation
commanding a view of the sea, to gaze upon the approach of the
king's ship.

The interval which elapsed between the events narrated in the five
preceding chapters and the present time, had not passed without excitement.
The Governor, through the remonstrances of the principal
citizens, had been wise enough to send the troops back to the
castle, after keeping them two days in the town: and this judicious
act contributed materially to mollify the public mind. The inhabitants
seemed inclined to let matters remain for the present, without
pushing things to a crisis; and to wait until the stamps should be
sent over with the officers appointed to act under the new law. The
vessel had been daily looked for to bring them over, for a week prior
to her arrival. The people, however, remained quietly engaged in
their several occupations and, at the suggestion of the town-rulers,
bore themselves with submission to the Governor. He, on his part,
seemed inclined to pursue lenient measures; and even was thought
to be disposed to ingratiate himself with the chief towns-people.
The colony, however, had not been idly waiting for the stamps to arrive
and for the law to go into operation. Committees of correspondence
with the other colonies were organized, and they advised to
make “a dignified resistance against the usurpations of Britain and
seek an honorable redress of their wrongs.” Petitions at the same
time were drawn up, addressed to the crown, respectfully praying
that the stamp duty might not be finally imposed; for it would tend
to the ruin of the commerce of America, and destroy the best interests
of Great Britain. The reply of the English governors, when they
read these petitions, was that “the colonial gentlemen lived like lords
upon their estates, or were becoming merchant princes by their commerce,
whilst the people of England were poor and oppressed with
taxes, to support and protect them.”

Such was the state of public feeling, when the intelligence that the
ship containing the stamped paper, was in the lower harbor.

Slowly she came onward, laden with the fuel that kindled a flame,
which was only extinguished seventeen years afterwards, when the last
British soldier trod as a foeman, the American soil, and the last hostile
ship of her humbled fleets, left her waters. Among the group upon
Fort-Hill, stood three men, who have already been made known to
the reader. These were William Lee, Fleming Field, and his brother
Saul. They stood in front of the group of some thirty persons,
who were upon the eminence. They were gazing in silence, and
with thoughtful faces, upon the approaching ship. An air of resolulution
and proud defiance was stamped upon the countenance of Fleming,
as if he sternly felt within himself, that the efforts of England to
enforce the stamp law upon the colonies, would be futile.

“I am told by them as knows more nor I do, Master Fleming,”
said an honest cobbler near him, a little bald man, in iron spectacles,
and a long leathern apron nearly hiding his body, “as how if the
stamp paper goes into use, we'll have to pay a tax for every thing.
I heard Cummer Brown say, as how poor young folks couldn't get
married for the expense! Now that is what I call a mortal sin, as
well as a pity.”

“And I heard say,” said a thin weaver; in a blue woollen cap and a
gray woollen long coat, “that for every letter as is written, we must
write it on the king's stamped paper, and pay two-pence for it to the
Stamp Office.”

“Yes, neighbor,” said the captain of a coasting sloop, “and what
is more, for every bill of ladin, every ship's paper, we must pay to the
king's officer, a stamp duty of at least ten shillings.”

“But suppose we don't choose to write on stamp paper?” ventured
the cobbler. “We could come the lap-stone over the king,
that a-way.”

“No instrument of any kind, no deed, no will, no bond, no simple
note of hand,” said warmly, a lawyer near by; “no marriage contract,
no bill of lading, no warrant of any sort, no writ whatsoever, no commission,
no instrument of conveyance, no bail bond, no grant or title,
no mortgage or release, no demurrer, no contract will be legal, unless
written and drawn upon the king's stamped paper.”

“Yes,” said a portly inn-keeper, “and every pack of cards is to
bear a stamp duty of a shilling, and every pair of dice ten shillings.”

“Every pamphlet and printed sheet of any kind, is also to be
stamped more or less,” said a publisher of a journal, with an indignant
glow upon his brow; “and what is more, upon every advertisement
in the stamped gazette, is to be levied a stamp duty of ten
shillings. Not even the almanacs escape the lynx-eyed ministry.
Two-pence the king puts into his pocket, for every one sold.”

“Methinks the king's majesty maun ha'a long pooch too hold all the
siller,” observed a Scotchman, who had been the sexton of the old
South a score of years.

“Yes, the king 'll get rich out o' the colonies,” said the weaver.
“Its no better than coining our flesh and blood into gold for him,
this stamp act!”

“I'd give a silver sixpence, enny how, to get a sight o' the stamp
itself,” observed the cobbler.

“The stamp, mon,” answered the sexton; “its na much ye'd see
I ken. The stamp is put on the paper over in London, by the kang's
secretary, and the paper is sent o'er to us for each mon to buy o' his
stamp officer, when he wants to mak' use on't.”

“And its done in red ink! an ominous color, that the king may
take warning at!” said William Lee, stoutly. “We shall give the
king's soldiers leaden stamps in blood, if he tries to make us submit
to this tyranny of his.”

“Then its the stamped paper, an' no' the stamps themselves, as is
in the ship a comin' so gallant up the harbor,” said the cobbler.

“Yes,” answered William Lee. “The telegraph says that the
ship is the Mentor, which we knew by the last vessel that arrived,
was to bring out the stamped paper. It comes in bales, and probably
yonder ship contains paper enough to return to the king's coffers, if
we are slaves enough to purchase and pay the duty, fifty thousand
pounds. Doubtless too, the ship brings over the stamp officers.”

“If they land, let's hang em,” cried Saul, the gigantic idiot, who
had got into his brain, some general idea of the grievance men complained
of; “let us hang 'em right up without prayers.”

The words of “the natural” were caught up by the cobbler, the
weaver, and two or three others, and the cry of “down with the stamp
officers!” began to break upon the still air of the afternoon, when
Fleming spoke.

“My friends, peace! Let us be temperate. Nothing good can
come of violence. The colony is prepared for this day, and for the

emergency. Be assured, the officers of the stamp will not enter upon
the duties of their office. Believe that not a colonist will pay a
farthing for stamp paper. This is the sentiment we have all embraced.
Let this suffice. There is no need of high voices or open acts
of violence. There is a more effectual resistance.”

“Master Fleming speaks well,” cried two or three voices. “We
will be quiet, and let things take their course. We will soon see how
it ends, and what comes of the king's law.”

“Till then, patience, good friends,” said Fleming. “The ship has
caught a fresher breeze, and comes gaily on, William,” he added to
his friend. “I hope the people will be calm, and let the officers and
paper be landed. Once on shore, they are both under our control.”

“If I had my way, Fleming,” answered the shipwright, a cloud of
dark displeasure passing across his brow, “I would take two hundred
good men with me, board the ship ere she got to her anchor, and
pitch into the harbor every bale of the accursed stamp paper, and
the stamp officers after them.”

“This would be a mad course, Lee,” responded Fleming. “It
would, instead of the tax, bring upon us a civil war. We must not
resist but with dignity and firmness. In refusing submission to this
yoke, imposed upon us by England, we must not forget the respect
we owe to ourselves.”

“You speak always like a wise man. I act from impulse. You
always prove to be right in the end, while I go wrong,” answered Lee.
“It is your wisdom as well as your courage, which has made you so
popular among the town's people, aye and even through the whole
colony. The members of the General Court talk with you, and listen
to your words; and every young man looks upon you as an idol.
I do believe, that if you were to say the word, they would rise to a
man, lock Hutchinson up in the castle a prisoner, and make you,
young as you are, governor in his stead. I hear your praise in all
men's mouths. When the mob, two weeks ago, would have sacked
his house, your single presence turned them aside and appeased their
fury. The fire-brand which I held in my hand, somehow or other,
you made me give up to you without a word; and when you stamped
it out, I shouted with the loudest my hurrah.”

“You give me undeserved praise, William,” answered Fleming,
smiling at the other's earnest and kindly warmth of feeling. I have
but done what others in similar circumstances would have done better.

The ship is furling her sails to come to an anchor. I am glad
to see that the people remain such quiet spectators. They are resolved
to comply with the earnest request of the committee of safety,
and leave events to its more legitimate guidance.”

“Is it true that all the lawyers, notaries, and attorneys, resolved at
a meeting last night, not to make use of any stamp paper?” asked
Lee.

“Yes; and the commttee of safety, as well as the general court,
have pledged themselves to uphold and sustain them, and every man
who refuses to make use of it.”

“But suppose a captain should want to clear his vessel after the
act goes in force, which will be in five days from this, the first of November;
he must have it made out on stamped paper, and pay the
stamp duty for it, else if any English man-of-war falls in with him, he
will be declared a pirate; for England, you see, won't recognise any
ship's papers as lawful, unless they are made out on stamped paper.
Now what shall an honest captain do? He can't stay in port, and if
he goes to sea without stamped papers, he is liable to lose his vessel?”

“It is better he should not go to sea, than in a single instance acknowledge
the right of Parliament to impose the duty, by submitting
to pay it. If he is a true patriot, he will let his vessel rot in the dock,
before he goes to sea carrying upon his papers the stamp of vassalage.
But this matter will be arranged between the committee of safety and
the governor. He will, probably, find it expedient to grant to such
captains exemption papers, which will secure them from capture.”

“Hutchinson will not do this,” answered Lee firmly.

“We do not know what he will do, until the hour of trial arrives.”

“This will be soon; for within five days this new act becomes a
law over all the colonies, from Boston to Savannah,” answered Lee.
“The ship has dropped her anchor, and is furling her topsails. To
tell you the truth, Fleming, I would rather she had not been suffered
to enter the harbor. I consider the very mud at the bottom of it tainted
by the touch of her anchor. A ship that bears in her bosom the
chains sent to bind us, should never have found the American soil,
even though ten fathom of salt water flows above it. But patience,
as you say, and we shall see the end of it.”

A deep murmur now passed through the throngs upon the eminences
of the town, as a boat shot out from the side of the anchored ship,
and pulled in towards Long Wharf.

“That boat brings, doubtless, an officer to wait on the governor,
and tell him our chains are ready,” said the impetuous Lee. “Did you
notice the ship fired no gun coming up the harbor, as they usually do.
They knew they were bringing what would not be well received.”

“Perhaps they thought the minnit guns firin' on the wharf, enough
burnin o' powder;” said the little cobbler. “Well, let 'em come.
Neighbors, suppose we take a run down the hill, and so past the Battery,
to State street, and see the landin' o' the stamp officer-man.”

“Is he like a lion, and has he a mane, and can he roar as well as
stamp, Flemmy?” asked Saul.

“Bless you, honest idiot,” answered the weaver, looking up at the
face of Saul as a man looks up into a poplar, “its no a monster-beast,
this stamp, with feet to stamp on a body with, ony a seal like to put
on paper. Ye need not be afeared o' it, man.”

“An it was a lion I'd no fear it,” answered Saul, brandishing his
bat-stick; and then taking his leathern ball from his pocket, he tossed
it high in the air. As it descended, he hit it a strong blow, and sent
it a hundred yards down the hill. It was pursued by a troop of boys,
and also by Saul himself, whose only companion it was, as this pastime
was his sole occupation. For hours he would play upon the Common
with the school-boys, and seemed only happy when engaged in
this his favorite amusement. His skill was so great, that he could strike
the vane upon the old South with it, scarcely missing once in a hundred
times. His bat afforded him also a formidable weapon, being
nearly as large and heavy as a capstan-bar. The service he had
done with it on the night of Cleverling's visit to his dwelling, had been
passed over by the governor, who had discretion enough to see that
any steps taken to arrest him would be unsafe, as Saul was a town-favorite,
and his cause every man would make his own.

The most of the group followed the cobbler and weaver down the
hill; and at the same time a movement of the masses upon the two
other eminences took place, and they also began to flow towards the
heart of the town, to witness the passage through the streets of the
person who had come on shore in the boat. The side-walks were
soon filled with gazing citizens. The shops and stores were already
closed, and from many of the windows of the houses were hung
black scarfs. The bells continued to toll their funeral peals, and at
solemn intervals, the heavy boom of the minute gun shook the town.
Across State street, as the officers, for there were three in number,

ascended it, through the lines of people, suddenly appeared before
them banners strung from window to window, bearing the following
mottoes:

“Liberty and Property Forever!”

“No Stamp!”

There was no cry made. Not a word escaped the silent throngs,
as the officers passed along towards the residence of the governor.
They seemed to be amazed at what they witnessed around them, and
walked on pale but firmly, escorted by the governor's private secretary,
a young man who every one esteemed, and perhaps out of respect
to whom they forbore uttering aloud their contempt and resentment.
Governor Hutchinson met them at the door of his house, and received
them warmly in the presence of hundreds who had followed them
to the front of the mansion.

“You have turned out the whole town to honor our landing, it
would seem,” said the British officer.

“They have done it voluntarily, I assure you, gentlemen,” answered
the governor, in a tone of mingled fear and malice, as his eye
glanced upon the gazing multitude. “You have done well to reach
me in safety. I am sorry you did not come over in a frigate. One
anchored off the wharves would give me the whole place by the ear.”

“They seem to be very much excited,” answered the British officer,
“though they spoke only through their placards. Do you think
they will be so mad as to refuse submission to the law after it goes into
force, on the first?”

“They are obstinate enough to do any thing! I am little better
than a prisoner in a besieged place.”

“I would raise the siege soon, if I were the king's governor here,”
answered the officer haughtily.

“I have tried every measure. Nothing will do but to send some
score of the chief men to England, and hang them there. You have
brought the stamped paper?”

“Yes, your excellency. I have come to report to you its arrival,
and to know when and where I shall land it.”

“That I will tell you by-and-bye,” answered Hutchinson, as they
passed into the central hall of the house, and disappeared from the
view of those without.

Fleming and William Lee had not left the hill with those who went
to see the debarking of the king's officers. After remaining looking

at them as they walked up Long Wharf, until the buildings concealed
them, they conversed together a few moments in an earnest manner,
and then grasping hands, separated; Lee to go towards the docks,
and Fleming to proceed by way of Milk street, in the direction of his
own abode.