Actual military operations were trifling. In retaliation for an American attack, on the 30th of July the regulars made a sally from Boston toward Roxbury, drove in the American advance guard, and burnt a house or two. The undertaking appears to have been without object, and resulted in nothing except some harmless cannonading. At other times armed boats ventured along the Cambridge sh.o.r.e, or tried the rivers, always to be sent back by the bullets of Yankee sharpshooters. When the Virginia riflemen appeared, however, there was less of this diversion.

These men, finding themselves debarred from the larger field operations, resolved at least to get something in return for their long march. So they set themselves to watch for the appearance of British exploring parties, and even stalked the sentries. The officers indignantly complained that this was not war according to rule, but both they and their sentries took care not to expose themselves. The largest operation undertaken by the British was at the approach of winter, when early in November they sent a small force to Lechmere's Point, at a time when a very high tide had converted the place into an island. They took a few cows, and lost a couple of men; on retiring they pointed to the American unwillingness to attack them, but this, as we have already learned, was on account of the spoiled cartridges.

All these operations, it will be seen, took place practically within the limits of the Back Bay and its adjacent waters, into which flowed the Charles River and a few creeks. Once or twice British boats tried to explore the Mystic, but with the coming of the riflemen that diversion stopped. When finally the Yankees dragged whale-boats to the Mystic and Charles, and began building floating batteries on their own account, British curiosity as to the American sh.o.r.e-line lapsed entirely.

Down the harbor Gage did nothing, except to send, tardily, to repel American expeditions. We have seen that the British could not save the lighthouse. The Yankee fishermen now took occasion to remove from the islands the hay and live stock which they had not taken before Bunker Hill. Their activities drew from Burgoyne an indignant letter.

"It may be asked in England, 'What is the Admiral doing?'

"I wish I were able to answer that question satisfactorily, but I can only say what he is _not_ doing.

"That he is _not_ supplying us with sheep and oxen, the dinners of the best of us bear meagre testimony; the state of our hospitals bears a more melancholy one.

"He is _not_ defending his own flocks and herds, for the enemy have repeatedly plundered his own islands.

"He is _not_ defending the other islands in the harbour, for the enemy in force landed from a great number of boats, and burned the lighthouse at noonday (having first killed or taken the party of marines which was posted there) almost under the guns of two or three men-of-war.

"He is _not_ employing his ships to keep up communication and intelligence with the King's servants and friends at different parts of the continent, for I do not believe that General Gage has received a letter from any correspondent out of Boston these six weeks.

"He is intent upon greater objects, you will think,--supporting in the great points the dignity of the British flag,--and where a number of boats have been built for the enemy; privateers fitted out; prizes carried in; the King's armed vessels sunk; the crews made prisoners; the officers killed,--he is doubtless enforcing instant rest.i.tution and reparation by the voice of his cannon and laying the towns in ashes that refuse his terms? Alas! he is not."[129]

Burgoyne finishes his indictment by lumping with the admiral's inefficiencies the weaknesses of quartermaster-generals, adjutant-generals, secretaries, and commissaries. In all this we catch a glimpse of one result of the king's policy, which was to reward his friends and rebuke his enemies. Since he cla.s.sed with his enemies the Whigs who were at home, he had only Tories to draw from. From them came Admiral Graves, and the crowd of incompetents who filled offices in America. The royal service was now paying the piper.

One result Burgoyne has noted very plainly, in the lack of fresh provision. The admiral could have protected the stock on the harbor islands, and without unnecessary violence could have seized provisions from the sh.o.r.e towns. This, however, he did not do, and we soon find the army complaining of its fare. It was not that the commissary was negligent; even the moneyed officers were at times unable to satisfy their desire for fresh meat, the supply of which was uncertain. For lack of hay, the milk supply soon disappeared, since cows could not be fed and had to be killed. Cheerful news came to the American camp that the venerable town bull had been sold for beef. The army even tired of its supply of fish, which, to be sure, never was great, though then as now Boston lay close to good fishing grounds. Salt pork was the main reliance, and before the middle of the summer the army had had altogether too much of that.

In consequence of this restricted diet the wounded from Bunker Hill died in great numbers. Of the wounded American prisoners very few survived.

Some, as Washington heard, were operated on in the common jail, in which most of them were confined, and where the chances of their recovery were slight. They fared "very hard," said John Leach, who had opportunity to know; not one of them survived amputation. As to the rest, there can be no question that they were badly treated. Their doctor complained that they had had no bread for two days; the Provost replied "they might eat the Nail Heads, and knaw the plank and be d.a.m.n'd."[130] Their more fortunate fellow-prisoners, who were not taken in arms and who received food from their families in Boston, sent the Bunker Hill prisoners what comforts they could bribe the soldiers to take to them; but, says Leach's diary, "they have no Wood for days together, to Warm their Drink, and dying men drink them cold." By the 21st of September eighteen out of twenty-nine prisoners had died in the jail.

Yet even the British wounded showed a high mortality. This was largely on account of the food, which, although it was the best that was to be had, was none too good for suffering men. The high death rate was in part due to the American marksmanship, which caused many body wounds.

What with such wounds, and such food, and the unaccustomed heat, there were so many deaths among the wounded that it was seriously stated that the American bullets were poisoned.

There was, then, considerable discontent among the British soldiery. Of it at one time the Americans took ingenious advantage. When the wind was setting toward the British lines at Charlestown, the Americans at the Medford lines scattered handbills that were driven to the British sentries. On the bills was to be read a comparison intended to increase British discontent. It ran:--

PROSPECT HILL BUNKER'S HILL I. Seven dollars a I. Three pence a month. day.

II. Fresh provisions II. Rotten salt pork.

and in plenty.

III. Health. III. The scurvy.

IV. Freedom, ease, IV. Slavery, beggary, affluence, and and want.

a good farm.

These handbills thus coming into the hands of the privates were pa.s.sed about secretly, until the officers got wind of the device, and complained to the Americans. The retort was that the British themselves had already been tempting sentries to desert. This deserting did go on throughout the siege, from either side, though it would seem as if more of the British fled from their service. Into whichever lines they went, the deserters always brought highly colored tales to buy their welcome.

The leaders very soon learned how little reliance could be placed upon such information. "We ought not to catch at such shadows as that. We have nothing under G.o.d to depend upon, but our own strength."[131]

If the British private was discontented, that was his habit; and though the officers grumbled as well, they had comparatively little to complain of. To be sure, the food was coa.r.s.e, but it was plentiful. Even the unaccustomed heat would seem comfortable to a Bostonian of to-day. The marine officers had more pleasant conditions, with their open ports and harbor breezes, and decks frequently sluiced with water. But the town itself had no tall buildings or confined s.p.a.ces; generally speaking, it was open from water to water, with plentiful shade. Boston in 1775 must have been as cool as its own summer resorts of the twentieth century.

The Tories, at least, found it bearable. They were accustomed to the summer heat, and knew themselves much better off than the unfortunate members of their party who had been unable to escape to the British lines. Many of the country Tories were confined to their estates, and forbidden to communicate with each other. "I wish to G.o.d," wrote Samuel Paine, "all our friends were here out of the hands of such Villains."

Compared with such treatment, serenades by thirteen-inch mortars and twenty-four pounders were apparently trifling--though the ladies did not think so. One, writing of the skirmish on the night of July 30, spoke of the "most dreadful cannonading," and "the apprehensions that naturally seize every one, either of the enemy breaking in, or the town being set on fire."[132] Even Samuel Paine saw the serious side of the situation.

"These," he asks, "are Governor Hutchinson's countrymen that would not fight, are they?"

It was because he realized that fight they would, "and like the devil,"

that he and others considered enlisting in the various corps which were organized in the town. According to Frothingham, who could find no statistics of the numbers of Tory volunteers, there were at least three corps formed: the Loyal American a.s.sociators under Timothy Ruggles, the Loyal Irish Volunteers under James Forrest, and the Royal Fencible Americans under Colonel Graham.[133] According to Samuel Paine, there was a fourth corps, but it is not named. A commission in one of these organizations was particularly attractive, as the service was expected to be short, and at its expiration the officers were to go upon half pay. Further, the duties were very light, being confined to drilling and patrolling the town. In the military events of the siege these corps took no part whatever.

It must be remembered, however, that out of this situation England did gain some valuable soldiers. The mettle of a few of the Tories was shown at Bunker Hill, where they went as individual volunteers, and served with the troops. Others, disdaining the toy-soldiering of their friends, seized the chance to join the regular army, and fought in it throughout the war, or until their deaths. Such men were John Coffin, Leverett Saltonstall, and the two Thomas Gilberts.

Yet men of this quality were few, and at least at this stage of the war the Tories were of little service to their king. Most of them were content to wait until the time when the regulars should scatter the besiegers and conduct the loyalists to their homes. Meanwhile they enjoyed the society into which they were thrown. "We have here," wrote Samuel Paine, "Earls, Lords, and Baronets, I a.s.sure you Names that Sound grand." These names did bring to the Tories a fair amount of social gayety. Mrs. Gage was at the head of her own little circle, not always enjoyed by those who could not forget her American birth. There were other groups of ladies who, whether English or Tory, contrived to make the time pa.s.s pleasantly for themselves and for the men. With few responsibilities, and with confidence in the future, the loyalists had a pleasant enough summer, and saw ahead of them a comfortable winter.

The situation of the Whigs was not so enjoyable. Before Bunker Hill, every one of them who could leave Boston had done so. But there were many of them left, and among them were a number of the more respectable and prominent of the Whigs. None of them wrote letters, and few indeed kept diaries; there is, therefore, a notable lack of information concerning their doings. We do know, however, that they were at a great disadvantage as against their Tory acquaintances. No privileges of the commissary were theirs, and no favors were to be had from the military authorities. When there was fresh meat in the town the Whigs could get little of it without repudiating their political creed; when the supply was scant, the Whigs went without. "They even denied us," wrote John Andrews, looking back upon this period, "the privilege of buying the surplusage of the soldiers' rations." Even before Bunker Hill he had written, "It's hard to stay cooped up here and feed upon salt provisions, more especially without one's wife.... Pork and beans one day, and beans and pork another, and fish when we can catch it."

Throughout the summer the situation was little bettered. "A loaf of bread the size we formerly gave three pence for, thought ourselves well off to get for a shilling. b.u.t.ter at two shillings. Milk, for months without tasting any."

There were certain Whigs whose experiences were more grim. To Gage, always in fear of betrayal to the enemy, there came rumors pointing to men whose known sentiments, or whose actions, subjected them to suspicion. Among these were one Carpenter, a barber, who had swum to Cambridge and back; one "Dorrington, his son and maid, for blowing up flies"[134]; but particularly John Leach and James Lovell, schoolmasters, with Peter Edes, printer, and his father's partner, John Gill. All of these four were obnoxious to the Tories, being outspoken Whigs and teachers of sedition, whether in their schools or their publications. One by one they were imprisoned in the common jail, and held there during various terms. Their treatment was harsh and ungenerous, held in close neighborhood with felons and loose livers, and not informed of what they were accused. Leach and Edes kept diaries when in prison. "From the 2d July to the 17th," writes Leach, "a Complicated scene of Oaths, Curses, Debauchery, and the most horrid Blasphemy, committed by the Provost Marshal, his Deputy and Soldiers, who were our guard, Soldier prisoners, and sundry soldier women, confined for Thefts, &c.... When our Wives, Children, and Friends came to see us, (which was seldom they were permitted) we seemed to want them gone, notwithstanding we were desirous of their Company, as they were exposed to hear the most abandon'd language, as was grating to the ears of all sober persons."

This Leach suspected to be intentional, but the offensive actions and words were incessant, especially on Sundays.

On the 17th Leach's son died, "whom I left well in my house"; but he was not allowed to attend the funeral, nor to be tried, nor dismissed. Three weeks after he and Lovell had been put in jail they first learned of what they were accused: Lovell of "being a Spy, and giving intelligence to the rebels," and Leach of "being a spy, and suspected of taking plans." Their examination was a farce, the witness against them not knowing them apart. They were remanded to jail, and lay there until October. Lovell fell sick, and got a little better food, but no attention from his jailers--"no Compa.s.sion toward him any more than a Dog." On the same day Leach noted that the Provost "Cursed and d.a.m.ned my little Child, for a d.a.m.n'd Rebel; he even Trembles at bringing my Diet."

Lovell grew better, and the vexatious treatment continued with petty tyrannies. At last, although no trial had yet been held, Edes, Gill, and Leach were released upon sureties of two inhabitants that they would not leave the town.

Lovell was kept in jail. He was son of Master John Lovell of the Latin School, in which he was usher until the opening of the war. His frank utterances had so incensed the authorities that they kept him in prison until the end of the siege, and then carried him with them to Halifax.

His father was a Tory, and, so far as the diaries of the prison mates show, made no attempt to visit his son in prison. James Lovell was exchanged in the summer of 1776.

Through Edes' prison diary, and the brief jottings which pa.s.s for the journal of Timothy Newell, selectman, we get a glimpse of a turncoat.

The incident in which he figures is the only one that caused Newell, who gave a scant hundred and twenty-five words to Bunker Hill battle, to write at any length. One John Morrison, formerly minister at Peterborough, New Hampshire, had been "obliged," says Edes, "to quit his people on account of his scandalous behaviour." He joined the provincial army, and is said to have fought at Bunker Hill; but a week later he joined the British with the usual misstatements of the American intentions. In the middle of September, Morrison moved for permission to use for his services the Brattle Street Church, "Dr. Cooper's Meetinghouse," of which Timothy Newell was a member of the parish committee. Newell, "with an emotion of resentment," roundly refused to deliver the key to Morrison and his friends, and made his way into the presence of the governor, where he stated that Morrison was a man of infamous character. But the turncoat had respectable backers. Gage required the key of Newell, and got it; and Morrison held at least one service in the church. It was to this service, on the 17th of September, that Edes was conducted, doubtless as a privilege, and heard a political sermon on the ingrat.i.tude of the provincials. Edes remarked that the Tories present affected to grin, but it was horribly, with a ghastly smile. The newspapers, however, called it an excellent discourse to a genteel audience, and announced regular services. Morrison, still contemptuously styled the deserter, figures again in Newell's diary in November, when he informed against an old Dutch woman for trying to carry out of town more money than her permit allowed. His profit on this was ten dollars. When winter approached, the Brattle Street Church was taken for use as a barracks, and Morrison got himself a place in the commissary department, which perhaps was more to his liking than sermonizing.[135]

The interview with Newell gives us a glimpse of Gage in almost the last of his troubles with the stiff-necked Bostonians. Less than a fortnight later[136] he received word from London that the king desired his presence, in order to consult upon future operations. Probably the unlucky commander saw in the message the end of his commission, but he went as one expecting to return. As was customary, he was presented with adulatory addresses, and on October 10 departed in state. His welcome in England was not so stately. The king did give him an interview, and listened attentively to his explanations, but it was popularly suggested that the unsuccessful general be created Lord Lexington, Baron of Bunker Hill. Gage's command was not restored to him, and he never again went on active service.

One legacy indeed he left, perhaps the worst act of his administration and the most far-reaching, although the personal blame does not lie with Gage himself. On the 4th of October he sent out a small fleet of vessels which accomplished more harm than good. It skirmished with privateers, and eventually, reaching Falmouth, now Portland in Maine, but then in Ma.s.sachusetts territory, attempted to levy upon the town. Captain Mowatt, the commander, picked a quarrel with the inhabitants, and finding them unyielding, burnt their village. The blame lies between Mowatt and Admiral Graves, both of whom had grudges against the town on account of a previous incident. The ministry repudiated the act, but the fact is undeniable that it was within the spirit of the instructions given to a later expedition, to "destroy any towns" that would not submit.[137] The effect on the Americans, however, was very far from teaching submission. The news of the burning of Falmouth did as much as any other event to impress the provincials with the impossibility of an agreement with the king.

In Gage's place now stood Howe, on whom the British hopes centred.

According to the Tory Samuel Paine, Howe united the spirit of a Wolfe with the genius of a Marlborough. Without prizing him quite so highly, both the army and the administration looked to Howe for action and results. It seemed to them that now at last something must happen.

But Howe, though with a willing army at his back, disciplined and well equipped, did nothing. He strengthened the Charlestown lines and the fort on Bunker Hill, he improved the defences at Boston Neck, and he began various batteries on Beacon Hill and the sh.o.r.es of the Common. He demolished a number of buildings in the north end of the town, in order to make communication between his posts more direct. But except for the little expedition across the Back Bay to Lechmere's Point, which netted a few cows, Howe attempted no offensive operations. As already shown, the regulars returned from Lechmere's Point as soon as the provincials a.s.sembled in numbers, and no attempt was made to hold the little hill.

Other skirmishes there were from time to time, but these were insignificant, and they were all.

The fact is that Howe's opinion coincided exactly with those of Gage and Burgoyne. The country was too strong to be forced, especially since the Americans had spent a summer on their entrenchments. There was no profit in taking a rebel fort if the army and its situation were to be weakened thereby. Howe looked with longing eyes toward New York, took up Burgoyne's idea of a post in Rhode Island, and believed that if he had twenty thousand men holding all three positions the rebels would be beaten. But such an army was not forthcoming, and the question arose whether he had best stay in Boston or go to New York. In reply to questions from the ministry, Howe pointed out that he had not a large enough fleet to convey himself, his stores, and the Tories, from the place. It was therefore understood that more ships and men should be supplied him in the spring, and that meanwhile he should go into winter quarters.

This was done. Buildings in the town were arranged to accommodate the troops, two of the churches being fitted up for this purpose. The tents were struck, and the army made itself snug. Howe busied himself with routine matters of the camp, and refused to budge. Though Washington first fortified Cobble Hill in Somerville, the nearest he had yet come to the British posts, and though after that he came a step nearer, seizing Lechmere's Point, Howe simply fired from cannon, but made no attempt to storm the works. The cannonading merely inured the Americans to danger, and seeing that it did them good rather than harm, Howe presently stopped it. Washington, perhaps not aware of the strength of his own position, declared himself "unable, upon any principle whatever," to account for Howe's inaction. He suspected it might be intended to lull him into a false sense of security, but resolved to be more vigilant than ever.

FOOTNOTES:

[128] This expression is ascribed to General Nathanael Greene.

[129] Fonblanque's "Burgoyne," 197-198.

[130] Leach's "Journal."

[131] William T. Miller, of Newport, R.I., to his wife Lydia. Ma.s.s.

Hist. and Gen. Register, 1855.

[132] Frothingham's "Siege," 230.