I've been at the town meeting in the Old South Church all day. What think you--! The governor at Milton has refused a pa.s.s to Francis Rotch, and the tea ships cannot leave the harbor. The British have sworn they'll make us pay the tax or wring our scurvy necks.

RIGBY (outraged).

Zounds! There are necks I'd like to have the wringing of! What else, lad, what else?

RICHARD.

The Old South Church could not hold half the patriots who wish to talk and listen. Such speeches! Oh, they'd stir your blood if you could hear them!

RIGBY (eyes a-gleam).

'Tis stirred enough already! Go on, lad, quickly!

RICHARD.

Josiah Quincy is presiding at the New Old South. 'Twas he who thought of sending word to the governor. And now the governor has refused, and if there's nothing done we're _beaten_--beaten, Tom Rigby, we who so love freedom!

RIGBY.

Tut! Tut! Lad! The night's not done yet. Are they still at the meeting?

RICHARD.

Aye, and are like to be for the next hour. 'Tis scarcely six--just candle-lighting time.

RIGBY.

You look white, lad. Have you eaten?

RICHARD.

Eaten! On such a day as this!

RIGBY.

Nonsense, lad. You must keep up your strength. (Crosses to serving- table where bowl stands.) Here! If you will not eat, at least you can drink a cup of steaming lemon punch. No _lads_ who come to my tavern get anything stronger--unless, mayhap, a cup of apple juice. Youth is its own best wine. Cider for you. Burgundy for your betters, eh, lad?

(Gives Richard a cup and takes a cup himself.) Here's to taxless tea!

(Drinks.)

RICHARD (joining him in the toast).

And the confounding of the British! And now, since there are no red- coats about, I may tell you that the Old South Church is not the only place that's to hold a meeting. There's going to be one here.

RIGBY (surprised).

Here?

RICHARD.

In less than half an hour the lads will meet me. We call ourselves "The Younger Sons of Freedom."

RIGBY (somewhat severely).

All that I have is at your service; yet 'tis only lately that lads have been allowed to rove past curfew time.

RICHARD.

Such days as these lads grow to men right quickly. Do you think we waste our time with games and--and s...o...b..ll forts, Tom Rigby? No! The Younger Sons of Freedom have learned to fight and fence, to run and swim, and to swarm up a ship's ladder if need be. How could any lad be idle these last nineteen days, with fathers and brothers patrolling the wharves day and night to keep the tea from landing; when patriot sentinels are stationed in every belfry; and when all Beacon Hill is topped with tar-barrels ready to blaze out into signals at a moment's notice. I tell you--my very dreams are of defiance! But my deeds--what can a lad do when he goes through life halting? A maimed foot makes a maimed ambition, unless--unless as I would fain believe, the spirit is stronger than the body. It is the _will_ that counts.

RIGBY.

You're wiser than most lads, Richard. You've a head on your shoulders.

I've known you long; but you have never spoken--until to-night. It was your will that took you through your puny childhood, fatherless, motherless, and made your stern old uncle proud of you. Why now be down-hearted? I've heard you spoken of as a lad of spirit by Dr.

Warren, aye, and by Paul Revere.

RICHARD.

There's a patriot for you! Would I could do such deeds as he can do.

Oh, all I think of is to serve my country--my city and my country!

RIGBY.

That's all I think on, too.

RICHARD (amazed).

You, Tom Rigby?

RIGBY (somewhat bitterly).

Did I seem to you only a waistcoat with b.u.t.tons? Nay, don't protest!

'Tis how most folks think of me. What have I to do with valor? I'm Tom the landlord, Tom the tapster, Tom the tavern-keeper! How should they guess in me Tom the patriot, Tom the hero-worshiper? And yet there's not one bit of my country's past, not one smallest Indian war but what has meaning for me. What do you think those chests are full of?

Trophies!

RICHARD.

Trophies!

RIGBY.

From all the wars we've had. (Unlocks chest at right wall, excitedly.) Look! Tomahawks. Headdresses. (Taking things out of chest.) Feathers. A war-knife. An Indian robe taken in Philip's war.

RICHARD.

(delighted: interested).

In Philip's war.

RIGBY.

(with emotion).

They're more to me than a king's ransom!

[He pauses, looking over contents of chest.

RICHARD (going back to seat by fire, and speaking to himself as he sits by it).

A king's ransom! What have we to do with kings, who cannot even thwart the tyrant who would rule us! If there was but some way----

[Sits, lost in thought.

RIGBY (putting trophies back in chest, looking at them fondly, and singing softly for the sheer joy of touching them).

"Oh, a seaman's life is a jolly life--Trol de rol, de rol!" Wampum. A woven blanket. A peace-pipe. (Sings.)

I had a goodly old sea-chest, Twas filled with--India dyes.

Oh, wide the harbor, deep the sea, Five fathoms down it lies!

Five fathoms down it lies!

RICHARD (half-hearing Tom's voice, and repeating to himself).

"Five fathoms deep it lies----" (In a suddenly electrified voice.) Tom!

Tom Rigby! I have the way! Your song has given it to me! I have the way!

[He has rushed to Rigby.