'Out Concord way. I come from there last night, an' am on my way back.
Day before yesterday I shot a redcoat, one o' them fancy soldiers the
King sent to Boston two years ago to enforce his laws. I'll show you
the place when we come to it.' I glanced at his face, and marked in it
a note of triumphant glee.
'How long do you suppose the siege will last?' he said a little later.
'The siege,' I said, 'what siege?'
He stared at me for some moments. 'Where've ye been livin' lately, ye
galoot? Don't ye know 'at Boston is besieged, an' that before two
weeks we're to drive what we don't shoot uv the King's men into the
harbour? That's the plan. That's good 'nough for 'em. Why couldn't
they act decent, instead uv puttin' on airs an' insultin' folks. How
much better is a soldier than a farmer, I'd like to know? Then think
uv them laws. Go 'way back to the very first--back over a hundred
years, when the trouble began by the surveyors puttin' the King's mark
on all the pine-trees over two feet in diameter. Supposin' the King
did want masts for his ships, what was the sense in puttin' his arrow
on thousands of trees that would never be used? What justice was there
in finin' a man a hundred pounds for cuttin' down an' sawin' up a tree
that was bein' left to rot? Think uv my great grandfather spendin'
three months in jail for cuttin' lumber to build his house. Was that
right?
'An' that wasn't the only bad law. Why wouldn't the King allow people
to build mills an' use the waterfalls? Who'd any right to say we
couldn't sell fish or boards wherever we chose--even to the French or
Spanish? Our people wanted to work an' they weren't allowed to.
That's the way the trouble begun. An' then think uv all them later
taxes on tea an' other things we 'ad to buy. Were we to go on for ever
payin' an' payin', an' have nothin' to say about spendin' the money we
paid in? No, sir; I'm glad war's come. Now we've a chance to get even
with the King an' these saucy insultin' soldiers an' stuck-up officers,
who've always been pokin' fun at our militia. Just wait till I get
another chance at them. Then there's them Tories--all those people
who've been sayin' the King's right an' England's right--they're little
better'n the soldiers. But they'll soon find out that.--Are there any
Tories up your way?' He broke off suddenly, and looking at me more
critically than he had looked before, asked--
'What's your name?'
'Roger Davis,' I said at once, for I had determined to tell no lies.
'Davis?' he repeated. 'Davis?' Then he looked at me yet more
critically. 'Yer father a merchant?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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