“So Colonel Revere’s cannons should be active by dawn?” Lovell asked.
“I see no reason why not,” Wadsworth said.
“And that should dispose of the enemy shipping,” Lovell said happily, “and so open the path to our success. Ah, Filmer! Thank you!”
Filmer, a servant, had brought supper of bacon, beans, and cornbread, which Lovell and his companions ate at the table where the captured flag made a convenient napkin for the general’s greasy hands. “The marines are back on their ships?” Lovell asked.
“They are, sir,” Wadsworth answered.
“Though I suppose we must beg the commodore for their use again,” Lovell said resignedly.
“They are formidable,” Wadsworth said.
Lovell looked mischievous, a small half-smile on his usually solemn face. “Did you hear that the naval officers sent the commodore a letter? Dear me! They chided him for not sailing into the harbor! Can you believe such a thing?”
“The letter shows admirable zeal, sir,” Wadsworth said evenly.
“And it must have caused him embarrassment!” Lovell said, plainly pleased with that thought. “Poor man,” he added dutifully, “but perhaps the remonstrance will spur him to a greater effort?”
“One prays so,” the Reverend Murray said.
“Let us pray it doesn’t make him more obstinate in his dealings,” Wadsworth said, “especially as we shall need his marines when we attack in earnest.”
“I suppose we will need them,” Lovell said grudgingly, “if the commodore is agreeable, of course.”
“It means using a dozen longboats to land all his marines,” Davis said, “and we already lack sufficient boats.”
“I do dislike the idea of landing piecemeal,” Lovell said, evidently toying with the idea of attacking without the marines and so keeping all the glory of victory to the militia.
“Why not use one of the smaller schooners?” Wadsworth suggested. “I’ve seen them being rowed. I’m sure we could take one close enough inshore, and a schooner could carry at least a hundred men.”
Davis considered that solution, then nodded. “The
“And we do need the marines,” Wadsworth said pointedly.
“I suppose we do, yes,” Lovell allowed. “Well, we shall request their assistance.” He paused, tapping his knife against the pewter plate. “When we capture the fort,” he said ruminatively, “I don’t want any redcoats escaping north across the isthmus. We should put a force to the north there? A blocking force?”
“Use the Indians?” Major Todd suggested, his spectacles reflecting the lantern-light. “The British are scared of our savages.”
“They’re much too valuable as fighters,” Wadsworth said hastily, “I want them in the assault.”
“Valuable, maybe, when they’re sober,” Major Todd said with a visible shudder, “but they were inebriated again this morning.”
“The Indians?” Lovell asked. “They were drunk?”
“Insensible, sir. The militiamen give them rum as an amusement.”
“The devil is in our midst,” Murray said darkly, “and must be extirpated.”
“He must indeed, Chaplain,” Lovell said and looked at Marston, “so add a command in tonight’s daily orders. No man is to supply rum to the Indians. And, of course, add a mention regretting the death of Major . . .” he paused.
“Littlefield,” Wadsworth said.
“Littlefield,” Lovell went on as if there had been no pause. “Poor Littlefield. He came from Wells, did he not? A fine town. Perhaps his men can block the isthmus? Oh, and Marston, make some acknowledgment of the marines, will you? We must give praise where it’s due, especially if we’re to request the use of them again.” He mopped the grease on his plate with a piece of bread and put it into his mouth just as a hard knock sounded on the cabin door. Before anyone could respond the door was thrust open to reveal an indignant Lieutenant-Colonel Revere who came to the table’s end and stared at Lovell who, his mouth full, could only wave a genial greeting.
“You ordered me to go ashore with the guns,” Revere said accusingly.
“So I did,” Lovell managed to say through his mouthful, “so I did. Are they emplaced already?”
“You can’t mean me to go ashore,” Revere said, with evident indignation. He gave his enemy, Major Todd, a dispassionate glance, then looked back to the general.
Lovell gazed at the commander of his artillery train with some bemusement. “We need guns on Cross Island,” he said finally, “and a new battery. Your task, surely, is to emplace them?”
“I have duties,” Revere said forcefully.
“Yes, Colonel, of course you do,” Lovell said.
“Your duty is to establish a battery on the island,” Wadsworth said forcibly.
“I can’t be everywhere,” Revere declared to Lovell, ignoring Wadsworth, “it isn’t possible.”
“I believe my orders were explicit,” the general said, “and required you to take the necessary guns ashore.”
“And I tell you I have responsibilities,” Revere protested.
“My dear Colonel,” Lovell said, leaning back from the table, “I want a battery on Cross Island.”
“And you shall have one!” Revere said firmly. “But it isn’t a colonel’s job to clear ground, to dig magazines, or to cut down trees to clear fields of fire!”
“No, no, of course not,” Lovell said, flinching from Revere’s anger.
“It is a colonel’s job to establish and to command a battery,” Wadsworth said.
“You’ll have your battery!” Revere snarled.
“Then I shall be satisfied,” Lovell said soothingly. Revere stared at the general for a brief moment and then, with a curt nod, turned and left. Lovell listened to the heavy footsteps climb the companionway, then let out a long breath. “What on earth provoked that display?”
“I can’t say,” Wadsworth answered, as puzzled as Lovell.
“The man is a troublemaker,” Todd said acidly, throwing an accusing look at Wadsworth, who he knew had cleared Revere’s appointment to command the artillery.
“A misunderstanding, I’m sure,” Lovell said. “He’s a very fine fellow! Didn’t he ride to warm you at Lexington?” he asked the question of Wadsworth.
“He and at least twenty others,” Todd answered before Wadsworth could respond, “and who do you suppose was the one rider who failed to reach Concord? Mister Revere,” he stressed the “mister” maliciously, “was captured by the British.”
“I do remember Revere bringing us warning that the regulars were coming,” Wadsworth said, “he and William Dawes.”
“Revere was captured by the British?” Lovell asked. “Oh, poor fellow.”
“Our enemies let him go, sir,” Todd said, “but kept his horse, thus showing a nice appreciation of Mister Revere’s value.”
“Oh, come now, come,” Lovell chided his brigade-major. “Why do you dislike him so?”
Todd took off his spectacles and polished them with the edge of the flag. “It seems to me, sir,” he said, and the tone of his voice indicated he had taken the general’s question with great seriousness, “that the essentials of military success are organization and cooperation.”
“You’re the most organized man I know!” Lovell put in.
“Thank you, sir. But Colonel Revere, sir, resents being under command. He believes, I assume, that he should command. He will go his own way, sir, and we shall go ours, and we shall receive neither cooperation nor organization.” Todd carefully hooked the spectacles back over his ears. “I served with him, sir, in the artillery, and there was constant abrasion, irritation, and conflict.”
“He’s efficient,” Lovell said uncertainly, then more vigorously, “everyone assures me he’s efficient.”
“In his own interests, yes,” Todd said.
“And he knows his guns,” Wadsworth asserted.
Todd looked at Wadsworth and paused before speaking. “I do hope so, sir.”
“He’s a patriot!” Lovell said in a tone of finality. “No one can deny that! Now, gentlemen, back to work.”
