United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
It was well nigh impossible for me to control myself so far as to act in
any way approaching a decent fashion. The knowledge that Hiram was not
only bent upon making an effort to rescue Archie that very night, but
had come prepared for it, and the weather promised to be all we could
desire, so wrought upon me that I was literally atremble with excitement
until it was difficult to remain in one place five seconds at a time.
That Harvey was in a similar condition I could well understand, when he
asked in a whisper so tremulous that only with difficulty could I
understand the words:
"Do you believe he counts on doing anything to-night?"
Hiram overheard the question, spoken cautiously though it was, and
replied decisively:
"Ay, lad, that's exactly what I count on doing, and save for the fact
that we have no boats ready, matters could not be more to our liking. In
less than half an hour, unless I have lost all power of judging the
weather, we are like to have as heavy a thunder gust upon us as this
town has ever seen. What more could be asked? How long think you we
might be forced to wait for another such opportunity?"
"But the boats!" Harvey exclaimed. "Of what avail may it be to release
him from prison when the Britishers will make short work in their search
after the day has come?"
"That part of the business is what we must take our chances on, lad. The
hardest portion of the work is to get him out of yonder jail, and that
done we'll trust to luck for the rest. Have you no skiffs in mind that
could be come upon by some search?"
"There are boats in plenty near to Long wharf," Harvey replied; "but
there the Britishers have so many men on duty that what between their
guards, marines passing to and fro from the shore to the ships, and the
sentinels, it would be impossible to give them the slip."
"How was Silas to get out of town?" Hiram asked, turning to me.
"Master Fish has a skiff hidden near his smokehouse, and the lad was
counting on taking it."
"In all this town do you know of none other?" and Hiram shook me
violently, as if he would force from my mouth that which he most desired
to know.
"The skiffs belonging to our friends are hidden, for by General Gage's
orders all craft that could be found have been taken possession of by
the lobster backs. We might search a full day without coming upon any."
"Well, as I have said, the first thing is to get the lad out of prison.
We'll trust to accident, chance, or whatever you choose to call it, for
the balance."
[Illustration: "THE SECOND FLASH OF LIGHTNING SHOWED ME THIS SCENE."]
By this time the rain drops were beginning to fall in token of the
oncoming shower, and Hiram stretched out his hand to learn how heavy was
the downpour, for, screened as we were by the building, one could hardly
judge of what might be going on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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