Guns for General Washington (10 page)

Washington, anxious about the plan, moved his headquarters to Roxbury, where he could keep in touch with the work on the ramparts. By four that morning, as the first glow of dawn appeared over the eastern bay, everything was finished. The heavy guns, including the runaway mortar and Will's giant twenty-four-pounder, were all in place.

Colonel Knox reported this to the commander, who nodded and smiled. But Washington's smile was an anxious one. So far things had gone smoothly. In the morning the rebels would face their final test.

24

At daybreak on March 4, the watch officer aboard HMS
Somerset
was quietly pacing the quarterdeck Glancing around the harbor, he happened to look toward Dorchester Heights. What he saw made his jaw drop and his eyes pop wide. He shouted for a messenger and sent him to awaken the British commander.

“Say that it's urgent!” the officer called as the messenger raced off.

General Howe hurried on deck, pulling a boat cloak over his nightshirt. By then the other officers were also on deck, all of them staring toward Dorchester. Howe followed their gaze and gasped in disbelief. There on the ridge—deserted and bare the day before—were two massive forts! As the first rays of wintry sun appeared, the watchers could see a long line of heavy cannons mounted on the parapet—and their muzzles were pointing straight at the British fleet!

Sir William Howe swore. He sputtered. He fretted and fumed. What manner of black magic was this? How did the Yanks work such a miracle overnight? Where did those guns come from—and why hadn't the British sentries seen what was going on?

Looking for somebody to blame, Howe raved at his staff officers, who stood in a daze. Just then there was a long rolling of drums on the Dorchester ramparts.

Standing behind the fascines, General Washington nodded to Henry Knox. “Let's begin, Colonel,” he said. Henry raised his arm and swung it down.

Boooom! CRASH! Crack!

With billowing smoke and flashes of flame, the guns of Ticonderoga spoke. They roared out, growling defiance at the enemy who, for so long, had tormented their city. Startled by the sounds, Paul and many other Bostonians pulled on clothes and raced to the waterfront to watch the spectacle and cheer wildly.

After the great opening salvo, Henry's guns were hauled in, sponged out, and reloaded with powder and shot. And once again they roared in loud triumph.

Crash! BOOOOM!

The cannonade thundered across the harbor, sweeping over the city and rousing its citizens. In the rumbling, Will Knox heard a magic echo of things to come. To his ears, the blast was a song of victory . . . a mighty shout of freedom . . . a challenge to British rule . . . a roar of support for the colonies.

None of the cannons had been aimed and most of the shots fell harmlessly, sending up a forest of waterspouts around the blockading ships. But this was deliberate on Washington's part. His goal, at that point, wasn't to sink ships or take British lives. The Dorchester Heights gunfire was symbolic. Washington wanted a gesture of power—something to show the British the danger of their position. His guns sent a strong message to the enemy:
The siege is over and the tide of battle has turned
.

General Howe was furious. He hated to accept defeat. Signal flags raced up the mainmast of the
Somerset
, giving orders to the fleet to return the rebel fire. Dutifully, the warships swung into position, bringing their broadside guns to bear on the audacious Yanks. Then a hundred British weapons belched fire and smoke, pouring shot after shot at Dorchester Heights.

Safe behind their barricade, Washington's men waited calmly. The British cannons were powerful, but they had limited movement. The colonists knew that the guns of the fleet couldn't be elevated high enough to damage the ramparts; in fact, Howe's barrage was useless. Try as they would, his gunners could barely reach halfway up the hillside, where their shots fell harmlessly.

For a while the British continued to waste powder and shot, but one by one the enemy guns began to fall silent. Washington studied the blockading ships and nodded to Henry Knox with satisfaction. In time—with careful attention to range and windage—the rebel cannons could sink the whole British fleet, ship by ship. But Howe still had cards to play. If he came under heavy attack, he might bombard the city and kill hundreds of innocent people. Even in defeat, his marines could torch Boston and burn it to the ground.

So the patriots had to move carefully. Washington's aim was to free the city and force the British out. He wanted victory, not tragedy—and now that he had artillery, victory was in his hands.

The sun crept higher while Henry's gunners stood by their weapons and waited. The last British cannon gave up and stopped firing. As the grim warships finally turned away from Dorchester, the men on the heights sent up a loud, ragged cheer. Somebody raised his voice in song, and soon a thousand joyous voices were added:

 

Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all,

By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall.

In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed.

For Heaven approves of each patriot's deed!

 

Will Knox, his face streaked with powder and grime, came over and put an arm around his brother's shoulder. The two men looked at each other and grinned happily. They both had the same thoughts—and words weren't needed. The British were facing a clear defeat. Boston would now be free—and the brothers knew that some day the
rest
of America would also be free.

For the British rulers, this moment was the beginning of the end. For the American patriots, it was the end of the beginning.

25

The minute General Howe saw the rebel cannons on Dorchester Heights, he knew the game was over. For a long while, with his redcoats and warships, he'd held the upper hand. But the colonists—those “country bumpkins” he'd once sneered at—had outplanned, outgunned, and outsmarted him.

Now the British had no choice: Henry's cannons had roared and the Royal Navy would have to quit Boston. But to save face, Howe tried a rearguard action. As the rebels expected, he made a halfhearted attempt to capture Dorchester with foot troops. A number of barges and longboats were assembled to carry the redcoats across the harbor. Then just as the boats were being loaded, a fierce storm came up.

The gale, lashing the harbor, was almost a hurricane—the kind of weather Howe feared. The barges were swamped, men were lost, and the commander called off the attack, which he suspected would have failed anyway.

The cat-and-mouse game was almost over, and messages began to pass between Howe's flagship and Washington's headquarters. There are no written notes or details of what was decided, but historians believe that a bargain was probably made: The British agreed not to destroy Boston, and in return the colonists allowed Howe's fleet to sail off unharmed.

It took a few days to round up extra British ships for this move. And at last, on March 17, the whole enemy armada scurried out of the harbor. With it went thousands of hated “lobsterbacks.” Howe also took along about nine hundred Tory sympathizers who had stayed in Boston under British protection.

As Howe's sails vanished over the horizon, General Washington, with Colonel Knox at his side, led his victorious troops into the city. Boston was free at last, and people welcomed their liberators joyously. Drums rolled, fifes squealed, and there were happy celebrations everywhere from the Town Gates to Barton's Point, from Clark's Shipyard to Griffin Wharf.

The wonderful news spread quickly, and soon refugees came pouring in from all over the countryside. Lucy Knox hurried from Worcester by fast coach to join her now famous husband. Cartloads of food also came rumbling into town, to feed the hungry Bostonians, who had been living on near-starvation diets.

Later in the day, at an inn near North Square, the two old friends, Will Knox and Paul Revere, Jr., had a grand reunion, and Old Toby joined them to raise his mug of ale in a toast to liberty. Paul was eager to hear the story of the cannon trek, and Will soon had a wide-eyed mob around him as he relived the great adventure.

 

The Boston victory—like a stone thrown into a pond—spread wide ripples across the cities and towns of America. Everyone knew that there were years of danger and struggle ahead. The battle wouldn't be an easy one. But the triumph in Boston put new life into the young nation. It proved to the colonists that they could indeed defy mighty England and win.

Colonel Knox, of course, was the hero of the hour, praised and congratulated by all. But, as he pointed out to Lucy, he was too busy to take much notice. He had a thousand things to do, and one of them was to hand in an exact list of his expenses during the long trip. Henry's final bill to the congress, for hiring drivers, horses and oxen, buying rope, tackle, animal forage, and so on, was 520 pounds, 15 shillings, and 8½ pence.

So, in colonial money of that period, the journey cost about $2,500—a real bargain considering that it may very well have saved the American Revolution.

Would you like to read more about America's War for Independence and the people who served in it? If so, here are other books that may be of special interest:

 

Boatner, Mark M.
Encyclopedia of the American Revolution
. New York: David M. McKay, 1966.

Callahan, North.
Henry Knox, General Washington's General
. New York: Rinehart, 1958.

Chidsey, Donald Barr.
The Siege of Boston: An On-the-Scene Account of the Beginning of the American Revolution
. New York: Crown Publishers, 1966.

Evans, R. E.
The War of American Independence
. England: Cambridge University Press, 1987.

Forbes, Esther.
Paul Revere and the World He Lived In
. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1942.

Knight, James E.
Salem Days
. New Jersey: Troll Associates, 1982.

Montross, Lynn.
Rag, Tag and Bobtail: The Story of the Continental Army
. New York: Harper & Bros., 1952.

Scheer, G. F., and Rankin, H. F.
Rebels and Redcoats
. New York: World Publishing, 1972.

S
EYMOUR
R
EIT
, the creator of Casper the Friendly Ghost, was the author of more than eighty books for young people. He wrote for radio and television and served on the faculty of Bank Street College of Education.