 | CHAPTER IV.
THE EVACUATION OF THE TOWN. Neal Nelson |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
THE EVACUATION OF THE TOWN.
On the seventeenth of March sixteen
hours after the ratification of the truce
required by Sir William Howe, the British
embarkation. So early as four o'clock,
long before the first light of dawn began
to show itself in the East, the garrison
marched out of barracks and formed
along Cornhill, Beacon street and upon
the Common. The morning broke upon
eight thousand wearied and worn troops,
suffering by cold, scanty clothing and
hunger, drawn up in lines, each man burdened
with what he could carry upon his
back. The morning was chilly and foggy
and contributed to the dispirited air
of the men who felt that their condition
was likely to be but little improved by
being crowded on board transports and
subjected to the dangers of the inhospitable
seas of that region and the horrors
of sea-sickness. Not a company when
its roll was called was found complete.
Numbers preferring to be taken prisoners
by the Americans or desiring to join
their standard had secreted themselves in
the barracks and houses under cover of
the darkness.
At five o'clock the order for the line
to form in column and march was communicated;
and without colors displayed
and merely with the tap of a drum
commenced its melancholy retreat
through Cornhill and State street and in
the direction of Long Wharf Here
they were embarked as fast as the boats
from the one hundred and fifty transports
could be filled with men and rowed off
to the ships to return and take fresh
numbers.
The American citizens of the town
remained quiet spectators of the retreat
of their invaders; being ordered by General
Howe to keep in their houses.—
They crowded the roofs and balconies to
observe their march through the town to
the water-side; but not a shout or cry of
derision was raised. They gazed in the
same silence with which the troops moved
by.
There were in the town fifteen hundred
loyalists or Tories, who, many of
them were wealthy citizens and had been
born in Boston. They now began to
feel the effects of their blind attachment
to the royal side. Compelled with infinite
dejection and tears of regret to abandon
residences so long dear to them,
they had been engaged since the evening
before, when the order was issued from
head quarters to prepare for evacuating
the city in twelve hours, in packing up
their personal property and securing their
valuables. When the morning dawned
hundreds of these families were seen hurrying
from their homes where they had
long dwelt in luxury and enjoyed years of
felicity, and seeking an asylum on board
the ships. There was no distinction of
suffering. The rich, who had the most
valuables to remove suffered more than
others; for the poor man could carry all
his load upon his shoulders and upon the
backs of his wife and children; but the
rich, weary with much goods, were dependant
upon carts and wagons to remove
to the wharf what he would carry
away. But such was the scene of confusion
and distress, and so great was the
demand for wagons, that all could not be
supplied; and some of the fathers of families,
once among the most influential in
the Commonwealth were now bending
under burdens which they could get no
man to carry. Mothers, young and delicately
reared carried their children and
took their way weeping towards the
decks; `the last salutations,' says the eloquent
historian Botta, `the farewell
embraces of those who departed and of
those who remained, the sick, the wounded,
the aged the infants, would have
moved with compassion the witnesses of
their distress, if the care of his own safety
had not absorbed the attention of each
one.
The carts and beasts of burden became
the occasion of sharp disputes;
and in various parts of the town fierce
battles took place between the soldiers
who would seize upon them and the tory
inhabitants who would maintain them.
Even the march of the main column was
more than once obstructed by fearful
contests between the loyalists themselves
for the possession of horses and wagons
with which to convey their effects to the
shipping. Added to this was each one's
fear lest he should be left behind to fall
into the hands of the enemy, and a desire
to secure first a berth on board the
transports. Whither the fleet which received
them was destined no one knew
and the uncertainty was an additional
cause of anxiety and distress to the more
intelligent portion of the flying loyalists.
Meanwhile a desperate band of English
into the rear of the embarking army took
advantage of the confusion to force doors
and pillage the houses and shops of whatever
the loyalists could not remove; and
even attempted the dwellings of the provincials
who, however, met them with
such firmness that they were under the
necessity of confining their lawless depredations
exclusively to the deserted
abodes of the tories, in which they
found a great deal that was valuable that
had been deserted by the owners lest delay
should lose them a chance of getting
a berth in the ships. These desperadoes
destroyed what they could not carry
away. The city before this presented
an appearance melancholy enough but
now it had an aspect of devastation that
it was painful to contemplate. Thrice
they fired the houses they had pillaged,
but by the prompt energy of the citizens
the flames were extinguished and the
town saved from conflagration.
By ten o'clock in the forenoon the
whole garrison was embarked on board
the shipping, and in the very face of the
American batteries which completely
commanded the embarkation. But the
latter only remained distant and quiet
spectators of the scene. The vessels,
many of which were small, overladen with
men and baggage, and the fruits of the
indiscriminate pillage, as well as with
the effects of the unhappy loyalists. Provisions
were very scanty, not enough being
on board at first for the full allowance
of the crews and soldiers; and the
loyalists had brought only plate and other
articles which at that crisis were of
less value than bread. Confusion reigned
throughout the fleet. Every deck of
the one hundred and fifty three transports
was a scene of discord unparalleled.
Women weeping, infants screaming, men
moaning and lamenting the loss of property
left behind, soldiers cursing and
drinking and the seamen unable to do
any thing in the crowd and uproar, swearing
at all.
Scarcely had the last crowded boat
load of soldiers left the end of Long wharf
when the roar of cannons from the American
lines south of the town announced
that Washington had commenced the
march of his army to take possession of
the deserted town! The report of the
artillery was responded to by the citizens
with loud shouts of gratitude and joy.—
They now poured from their houses into
the streets and hastened towards the Neck
to receive the Deliverer.
General Howe! who was tee last man
to embark had hardly placed his foot in
the boat that was to take him to the shipping
when Washington entered the town
on the other side with colors displayed,
drums beating `Yankee Doodle,' and all
the forms of victory and triumph.—
Mounted upon a snow white charger,
and attended by his generals aids, among
whom rode Neal Nelson, the chief triumphantly
entered the principal street of
the city, and at every step of his advance
was hailed by the citizens so long forcibly
held prisoners to the garrison, as a
deliverer and conquerer.
`Their joy,' says the historian, `broke
forth with the more vivacity as their sufferings
had been long and cruel. For
more than sixteen months they had endured
hunger, thirst, cold, and the insults
of an insolent soldiery who deemed them
rebels; and suffering in common with
the garrison, the horrors of famine they
had been reduced even to subsist on the
flesh of horses!
The victorious besieging army, numbering
sixteen thousand organized troops,
passed into town battalion after battalion,
and after passing through the whole
length of Cornhill, marched to the common
and then formed.
On riding over the town, and receiving
the reports of the selectmen and citizens
of the sufferings of the inhabitants,
which were apparent in their hollow
cheeks and emaciated forms, Washington
was seen to be so deeply moved as to
shed tears. He found that the English
had left a great quantity of artillery
and munitions, but among them little or
no powder, of which the army was nearly
destitute.
`Thus after a siege of long duration
the capital of the Province of Massachusetts
fell again into the hands of the
Americans. The joy this happy event
produced was universal throughout all
true hearts in the land. It gave a new
impulse to the public spirit, and inspired
with enthusiasm the hitherto desponding.
Contrary winds, succeeded by a dead
calm prevented the English fleet from
the troops were taken on board; a period
of intense suffering and privation to
all on board. At length the wind became
favorable and the fleet sailed. Its
destination was at the time unknown.—
The general opinion was that it was destined
for Charleston or New York; but
it actually sailed for Halifax, where it
arrived after a remarkably short passage.
For the subsequent movements of General
Howe the reader is referred to the
histories of the period.
As the evacuation of Boston could not
be known to English vessels then at sea,
or to others just about sailing from Europe
for the port of Boston, Admiral
Shuldam had left in the waters of Boston
bay a small squadron under the command
of Commodore Banks to protect the navigation
of the vessels of the king, which,
in ignorance of the evacuation of the
city might continue their voyage towards
it. `This precaution, however, had not
all the effect,' says Botta, `that was desired;
the bay being extensive, the
American cruisers lay in concealment
behind the numerous little islands with
which it is interspersed, and sprang
suddenly upon the ships that presented
themselves without mistrust. It
is at this crisis, and amid these islands
that our story will be resumed when we
shall have followed our hero Neal Nelson,
after his departure from the presence of
his uncle Sir William Howe on his mission
to the Selectmen. But we will first
explain why a sailor, as he was, should
have been made an aid of the military
Commander-in Chief.
Isabella Howe, the General's sister,
had early married a young lieutenant
without any other qualifications than his
sword, a handsome person, great courage
and an honorable fame. This marriage
was kept secret for some time, as she
knew that her family would refuse its
sanction. It was however discovered,
and to escape persecution, Lieutenant
Nelson fled with his wife to Boston. On
the birth of her only child, Neal, she
wrote and made it known to her brothers,
who, however, were so exasperated that
they succeeded, by their influence, in
getting her husband removed to the East
India station in a time of great mortality,
where he fell a victim to the climate.—
Subsequently, Sir William regretted the
act, and as an atonement, sent for his sister
and got a midshipman's berth in the
service for his nephew. Neal was seven
years old when he left Boston for England
with his mother. At eleven he entered
the navy under his uncle, lord Admiral
Howe. When he reached his nineteenth
year he accompanied General Sir Wiliam
Howe to Boston in Admiral Shuldam's
frigate, to which he was attached.—
When General Howe took up his quarters
on shore he invited Neal to take up his
abode with him. While he was here, his
mother, who had not seen her son for
several years, came over to visit him and
became an inmate of Sir William's abode.
Neal was daily in the presence of his uncle,
and in his full confidence. In his
character he was frank and manly, and
every feeling of rectitude and honor inspired
his conduct. His very face invited
confidence; and no one who knew him
could believe that he would be guilty of
any act of dishonor. His mother, whom
he tenderly loved, was proud of the high
tone of his feelings, and anticipated for
him the most brilliant career. Sir William
regarded him with affection and relied
implicitly upon his loyalty and good
faith.
Neal was all that his mother or his uncle
believed him to be. He was honorable,
noble in mind, truthful and sincere
in character. But all this was consistent
with sympathy for the wrongs of the
land which gave him birth! From the
time he stepped foot on shore at Boston
six months previous to its evacuation, he
could not forget that he was born there—
that he was an American. He remembered,
as he roamed about the town, the
Common, Beacon and Copp's Hill, all
the places which in his early boyhood he
had frequented. His spirit from every
scene drank in that love of country which
is so strong in the American boy.
By degree his mind, naturally active
and intelligent, began to examine the
cause of the quarrel between the land of
his birth and the mother country. He
found among the provincials who were
detained in the town, an old man, who
related to him the whole history of grievances!
who unfolded to him the tyranny
and oppression of England, the forbearance
and suffering of the Colonies in
the recital and his sympathies gradually
became enlisted with those who were so
bravely battling for independence. Yet
he by no means thought of joining his
countrymen. The idea of quitting the
service of the king never for a moment
entered his mind. He felt for and sympathized
with the Americans, but he
dreamed not of disloyalty. He could admire
the spirit of the patriots without
feeling any desire to descrt the service
of the king.
But the seeds of liberty once sowo in
the heart will first take root downward
and then spring its stalk upward into open
view. Neal's was a mind well fitted for
the promotion of the up-springing of such
a plant. The subject was ever upon his
minc. The character of Washington
commanded his admiration and respect
The patience and perseverence and endurance
of the American soldiery astonished
him. Daily he thought upon their
cause, until, at length, he found himself
in the presence of his uncle, speaking
warmly in praise of the American General,
and wishing that the King and ministry
would do justice to the Colonies.
`And do you think think they are doing
injustice, Neal?' asked Sir William
Howe, surprised.
`Yes, sir!' answered the young man
firmly. `I have examined the whole
ground of quarrel, and I feel satisfied that
England is in the wrong. I am persuaded,
also, that if the ministry would look
to it impartially they would see that they
cannot be sustained in equity in the coercive
course they have taken!'
`You had best go home in a frigate,
nephew, and teach the ministry,' said Sir
William Howe laughing. `If you will
undertake the mission, I will despatch a
ship with you to-morrow.'
Neal's cheek burned, and he felt a little
vexed and mortified; but the recption
his opinion had met with, did not diminish
his awakening patriotism. The sneering
manner in which his uncle had replied
to him stung and angered him. A
few days afterwards he was led a second
time to speak, with unguarded zeal, of
the spirit and bravery which a party of
Americans had exhibited in a certain encounter
with a detachment of the British
on a foraging expedition, and Sir William
Howe could not but see, from his
eye and tone, as well as from his words,
that his sympathies went strongly with
the American party, and that he felt glad
at the defeat of the British; for the latter
had been discomfited and driven within
their lines with the loss of many men killed
and taken prisoners.
`You had best join the rebels at once,
Neal!' answered his uncle, fixing upon
the young seaman a keen look.
`I have no wish to join them, sir,' he
answered firmly; `but I still feel persuaded
that they are fighting in a cause that
will be ultimately successful. Such men
can never be conquered.'
`We shall at least try to conquer them,
nephew,' said the English General in a
tone of derision. `If you have such sentiments
as these, you had best dismiss
them at once from your mind, or not give
them utterance!'
`I do not fear to speak as I think,' answered
Nesl firmly.
`It is not always safe to do so, young
man. Your language has treason in it,
and if spoken before such men as Shuldam
or Gage, would lose you your liberty.
But I am aware of the warmth of
your feelings, and know you are more
thoughtless than traitorous. So let me
hear no more of this!' This conversation
took place about three weeks preceding
the evacuation of the place.
Neal obeyed his uncle. From that
day he was careful to conceal from him
his thoughts; not, however, because he
had been commanded to do so, but because
a change had taken place in his
character and feelings that rendered precaution
necessary for his safety; for he
had, in the interval, fully committed himself,
though secretly, in the rebel cause;
and so far as to lead him to resolve when
an opportunity should offer, to withdraw
from the town, and attach himself to the
provincial party.
How this change and determination
was brought about, and the instrument
that achieved it, will be explained in the
next chapter.
| CHAPTER IV.
THE EVACUATION OF THE TOWN. Neal Nelson | |