This bold and audacious act was deeply felt in Great Britain. Conciliation was now out of the question. The king’s anger was aroused. It was already bitter enough on account of the Massachusetts troubles. Governor Wentworth issued threatening proclamations. He dismissed the offending major and captain from their posts in the militia. In answer to his edict all persons in Durham holding civil or military positions under the governor, headed by Sullivan, assembled at the tavern on the green, and there publicly burned their commissions and insignia of office. There was no further need of secrecy. The die was cast and the leaders were well known. The official positions, civil or military, held by many of those who were principals in the affair, obliged them, up to this time, to act with caution. After the burning, not of his ships, but of his commission, Sullivan boldly stepped to the front. The very next day after the capture of the powder he headed a body of men numbering between three and four hundred from Durham and the adjoining towns, and, marching to the Council Chamber, demanded an answer to the question as to whether or not there were any ships or troops expected here, or if the governor had written for any. His excellency meekly answered: “I know of none.” The greater part of the powder was stored in the basement of the meeting-house in Durham. The balance, for safety, was distributed in several places, some of it going to Exeter. That stored at Durham, as well as another portion placed with Capt. John Demerritt, was taken by the latter in his own ox-cart, under Sullivan’s direction, to Cambridge, where it arrived barely in time to be dealt out to the troops at Bunker Hill. Of how much value it was there and how badly it was needed, is too well known to bear repetition. Without it and lacking the men from the old Granite State accompanying it, Bunker Hill would not have been such a serious affair for the British army. In claiming the leadership for Sullivan in this affair there is no desire to extol him at the expense of those with whom he was associated,—men like Langdon, Weare, Bartlett, Thornton, Scammell, Thompson, Folsom, Wentworth, Gilman, and others whose names are now household words. The position was freely conceded by them at the time, and acknowledged by the best informed to-day. After the Lexington fight, and while Sullivan was in attendance at the Second Continental Congress, the gallant young Scammell, who was in his office in Durham, wrote him that, “when the horrid din of civil carnage surprised us on the 20th of April, the universal cry was ‘Oh, if Major Sullivan was here!’ ‘I wish to God Major Sullivan was here!’ ran through the distressed multitude.”