For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the RevolutionBrady, Cyrus Townsend
History
For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution
Brady, Cyrus Townsend
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
the black coat of a clergyman and the sober attire of many of the
thrifty Quakers were conspicuous. Here and there the crowd was
lightened by the uniform of a militiaman or home guard, or the faded
buff and blue of some invalid or wounded Continental. In the doorways
of some of the spacious residences facing the river, many of the fair
dames for which Philadelphia was justly famous noted eagerly the
approaching ship. As she came slowly up against the ebb tide, it was
seen that her bulwarks had been cut away, all her boats but one
appeared to be lost, her mizzen topgallant mast was gone, several great
patches in her sails also attracted attention; there too was a
field-piece mounted and lashed on the quarter-deck as a stern-chaser.
The fore royal was furled, and two flags were hanging limply from the
masthead; the light breeze from time to time fluttering them a little,
but not sufficiently to disclose what they were, until just opposite
High Street, where she dropped her only remaining anchor, when a sudden
gust of wind lifted the two flags before the anxious spectators, who
saw that one was a British and the other their own ensign. As soon as
the eager watchers grasped the fact that the red cross of St. George
was beneath the stars and stripes, they broke into spontaneous cheers
of rejoicing. Immediately after, the field-gun on the quarterdeck was
fired, and the report reverberated over the water and across the island
on the one side, and through the streets of the town on the other, with
sufficient volume to call every belated and idle citizen to the
river-front at once.
Immediately after, a small boat was dropped into the water and manned
by four stout seamen, into which two officers rapidly descended,--one
in the uniform of a soldier, and the other in naval attire. When they
reached the wharf at the foot of High Street, they found themselves
confronted by an excited, shouting mass of anxious men, eager to hear
the news they were without doubt bringing.
"It's Lieutenant Seymour!" cried one.
"Yes, he went off in the Ranger about two weeks ago," answered another.
"So he did. I wonder where the Ranger is now?"
"Who is the one next to him?" said a third.
"That's the young Continental from General Washington's staff, who went
with them," answered a fourth voice.
"Back, gentlemen, back!"
"Way for the general commanding the town!"
"Here, men, don't crowd this way on the honorable committee of
Congress!" cried one and another, as a stout, burly, red-faced, honest,
genial-looking man, whose uniform of a general officer could not
disguise his plain farmer-like appearance, attended by two or three
staff-officers and followed by several white-wigged gentlemen of great
dignity, the rich attire and the evident respect in which they were
held proclaiming them the committee of Congress, slowly forced their
way through the crowd.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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