The murmuring ceased as Samuel Adams addressed him:--

"Will you, Mr. Rotch, send the Dartmouth back to London with the tea on board?"

"Were I to make the attempt in compliance with the request of the people it would be my ruin."

Roger and all around him saw what they had not seen before, that were he to make the effort his ship would be seized and himself arrested, and in all probability sent to England to be tried for treason.

"Who knows how tea will mix with salt water?" shouted John Rowe.

"Let us treat the fishes to a cup of tea," shouted another, and the windows rattled with their stamping.

"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!"

It was a yell from the street.

"Let the meeting be in order. It is a trick of our enemies to distract us," shouted some one.

"Order, gentlemen!" cried the moderator.

"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!"

Longer and louder the yell.

"The Mohawks! the Mohawks!" the cry at the door.

Those in the galleries left their seats and hastened down the stairs.

People were rising in the pews and crowding the aisles.

"This meeting can do no more," said Mr. Adams, and he declared it adjourned.

The people saw forty or fifty Indians who had suddenly appeared upon the street. Where they came from no one knew, but they were rapidly making their way to Griffin's Wharf where the ships were lying. Roger Stanley and a great number of citizens followed them. The sentinels with muskets on their shoulders, keeping watch over the ships, made no effort to stop the Mohawks. Roger saw the ship Dartmouth alongside the wharf and the Elenor and Beaver a little distance from it. The chief leaped on board the Dartmouth. The captain was on the quarter-deck; the crew huddled at the bow were astonished to see Indians with tomahawks climbing over the sides of the vessel.

"The Mohawks will unload your tea. Please direct your men to open the hatches and then order them below into the forecastle," said the chief, addressing the captain. "You will retire to your cabin. The Mohawks will not injure your ship or do you any harm."

It was spoken resolutely and in such good English that the captain understood every word. The sailors lifted the hatches, provided hoisting tackle, and disappeared down the forward hatchway, and the captain retired to his cabin. Roger saw an Indian run up the shrouds by the mainmast and hitch a tackle. He thought the savage had some resemblance to Tom Brandon. He also saw by the light of the moon, near its first quarter, that while one party of savages were at work upon the Dartmouth, others were warping the Elenor and the Beaver to the dock. It was nearly low tide, and the waves were swashing the timbers beneath the wharf. Not far away lay the Romney with her cannon peeping from the portholes. Very quietly the Mohawks began their work, hoisting chests from the hold, cutting them with hatchets, pouring the contents over the sides of the vessels. Roger felt a desire to take part in the work. Running to a blacksmith's shop, he smeared his face and hands with charcoal, took off his coat, turned it inside out, put it on, leaped on board the ship, seized a hatchet, smashed the chests, and tumbled them overboard. The Indians worked in silence. The clock was striking ten when the last chest was thrown into the dock. Their work finished, the chief rapped upon the cabin door, and the captain opened it.

"We have discharged your tea, captain, but we have disturbed nothing else. If we have we will cheerfully pay the damage."

The captain thanked him for being so considerate.

Tom, Abraham, and Roger, and the other Indians, walked up the street past the house of Nathaniel Coffin, his majesty's receiver-general.

His eldest son, Isaac, one of Tom's schoolmates, had just sailed for England, Admiral Montague having obtained a commission for him in the king's navy, but John, the younger brother, was at home.

Admiral Montague was there standing by an open window.

"Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for your Indian caper; but don't forget, you will have to pay the fiddler by and by."

"Oh, never mind, admiral, we are ready to pay him now," Tom replied.

The other Indians laughed as the admiral closed the window and turned away.

Very quietly the Mohawks separated. Abraham went to his own house, Roger went with Tom. They were soon in their chamber washing the garget stains and charcoal from their faces and hands.

"Rat-a-tat-tat!" went the knocker on the door.

They heard feet tripping over the stairs and then Berinthia's voice.

"Oh, Tom, the officers are at the door. Put out your light. Let me have your Indian clothes. Get to bed, quick."

Tom raised the window, emptied the water from the bowl into the alley behind the house, handed his Indian suit to Berinthia, put out the light, and jumped into bed. Captain Brandon was not at home, having gone to Maine to obtain timber for the building of a ship. Berinthia returned to her room, lifted the sheets and blankets, tucked Tom's suit safely away between the feather bed and the straw mattress beneath it.

"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" went the knocker, louder than before.

Tom heard Berinthia's window open.

"Who's there, and what is wanted?" It was Berinthia speaking.

"Is Captain Brandon at home?" asked one of the men at the door.

"He is not. He is in Maine."

"We want to search your house."

"Why do you wish to search it?"

"An outrage has been committed, and we believe that his son had a hand in it!"

"My brother is in bed, and a friend is spending the night with him; but I will go and tell him."

Several minutes pa.s.sed before Tom could strike a light with the tinder-box, put on his clothes, and get to the door. Before descending the stairs he looked in the gla.s.s to see that the stains had been wholly removed from his face, and examined the floor to ascertain that no tea-leaves had been dropped from their clothing. He then descended the stairs and opened the door.

"Good-evening. What is it you wish?" he said.

"You are Tom Brandon, are you not?" asked one of the officers.

"That is my name."

"It is believed, Mr. Brandon, that you were one of the party who poured the tea into the harbor this evening, and we have come to search for evidence."

"Come right in, gentlemen."

The officers stepped into the hall.

"This is the parlor, here is the sitting-room, and beyond it is the pantry. I don't think you will find much tea, for we quit drinking it three years ago, and haven't had any since," said Tom.

"Shall we see your chamber, Mr. Brandon?"

"Certainly; you will find my old schoolmate, Roger Stanley of Concord, in bed, but he won't mind."

They climbed the stairs, entered the chamber, asked Mr. Stanley's pardon for intruding, took a look at the washbowl, opened a clothespress, got down on their knees and looked at the floor, to see if they could find any tea.