He looked down and began to eat the venison the tavern keeper had set before him.
“What’s the matter,” asked Charlie. “What’s that frown on your face, lad? You aren’t from one those loyalist families, are you?”
“No. No, I’m not. It’s just that —”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. The abrupt entrance of a man who came bustling over to Charlie interrupted him. He recognized the man from the crowd outside.
“Charlie, Charlie,” he quickly shouted. “They ran out . . . it’s over . . . had to fall back.”
“Hold it, slow down, Paul,” said Charlie, trying to calm the man. “Who ran out, and who fell back?”
“No . . . no, you don’t understand,” said Paul, still upset. “The militia ran out of ammunition. They had to fall back off of Breeds Hill . . . retreated to another hill. One of the messengers from the militia just rode into town to tell the news. Said they abandoned the peninsula to the lobsterbacks and fell back to save headquarters at Cambridge.”
“God help us,” muttered Charlie. “How many men hurt?”
“Over a hundred. There’s plenty of dead and wounded on both sides, though. Word is our provincials stood their ground as best they could. The regulars just marched right up against the redoubt twice and were repelled. On the third advance, they forced our boys back. The messenger said it was the bloodiest battle anyone’s ever seen. I am off to Cambridge with the others. There’s been a general call to arms!”
Gabriel was both thrilled and terrified, all at once. There may still be fighting. There may still be a place for him in the militia. But there may also be death and destruction. He had known this in the back of his mind all along, but now it was real. Despite these butterflies in his stomach, he knew he could overcome his fears. He had been doing just that ever since his parents died. With as much boldness as he could muster, he asked Paul, “If you are going to help in the fight, can I go with you?”
Paul smirked. “You got a gun?”
“No,” replied Gabriel. “I have a drum, though.”
“Where I’m going, we need men with guns, not boys with drums. Go back home to the farm, and tell your pa to get his gun. You can help by staying put and helping your ma with the chores.”
This stranger could not have known how these words cut at Gabriel like a knife, but they did just that. They had cut deeply, and Gabriel was angry.
He was tired of being told to go back home, and he was tired of being reminded he didn’t have a father or a mother.
He’d just walked over one hundred and forty miles, and this stranger wanted him to go home?
Without another thought, he let his anger fly. “I HAVE NO HOME! I HAVE NO FARM! I HAVE NO FATHER! I WALKED ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK, AND I WILL MAKE IT TO BOSTON! I WILL FIGHT! I WILL . . . I WILL!”
A shocked expression appeared on both the barkeep’s and the stranger’s faces. Paul spoke first. “Easy, lad . . . easy. Nobody said you had to stay here. I’m sure they can find a place for a drummer boy, especially since they got some fancy general from Virginia coming up here to take over. Chances are he’ll want some order to things, and every regiment will need a drummer boy.”
“Then let me go with —” Gabriel started but was interrupted.
Charlie the barkeep held up a hand. “You mean to tell me they’re gonna let some southerner take over the New England militias?” Now Charlie was the angry one, with his face reddened and wrinkled. “They’re gonna replace Israel Putnam, good Old Put, as commander of our New England men? And what about Colonel Prescott and Major Warren? Why, Dr. Warren was among the best men at Lexington and Concord.”
Paul shook his head, a look of remorse on his face. “They say Dr. Warren was killed in the battle — shot, bayoneted, and tossed in the ditch by those dirty redcoats. As for what this fellow from Virginia means to do, I’m not sure, but he’ll have a hard time getting New Englanders to listen to him. That’s for sure.”
Charlie shook his head. “Not Dr. Warren. There’s none braver or smarter. What a shame. And to think some Virginian is going to come up here and try to match the likes of men like Joseph Warren. It’ll never happen.”
Although Gabriel’s temper had cooled, his determination to reach Boston had not. It might be good for him to know more about this Virginian. Maybe he could find a place for him in the militia. “Where is this general from Virginia now? Is he here in Springfield? What’s his name?”
Paul answered. “Name’s Washington . . . George Washington. I couldn’t say for sure where he is at the moment but, last I heard, he was traveling by carriage up from New York. Should be in the main camp at Cambridge any day now.”
“Then I am coming with you,” said Gabriel firmly. “That’s where you said you’re headed, to Cambridge.”
Paul gave a look of regret and sympathy, and Gabriel guessed what was coming. “I cannot take you with me. I am on a single horse packed with supplies. I do not have room for you and your drum. I’m sorry, but that is the way of things. Perhaps if you start out on the road, you will find another rider who has more room than I.”
Gabriel expected nothing less. He remembered Malinda’s words when Benedict Arnold had left him behind. You left New
