“Yes . . . yes,” said Gabriel.
“And boys your age have dreams about leading troops into a glorious battle victory, beating your drum as the soldiers march along to the beat?”
“Yes, that’s all true, but I still don’t know how you figured all that out from just looking at me,” said Gabriel.
“I told you I’m not blind,” chuckled Ben. “The one thing I don’t know is where your ma and pa are and why they’re letting such a young lad take off to fight the enemy.”
Gabriel swallowed hard. “My mother and father both died of small pox last year. They only lived a month after getting sick, dying within a week of each other. I got a touch of the pox but never took ill the way they did.”
“I feared as much,” Ben responded with a solemn nod. “The good Lord says for us to help widows and orphans, so I have a few things to say to you. Listen up.” Ben pulled his chair up closer to the table. “Now, you have a long way to go to get to Boston, and you have a lot to learn about being wise to your surroundings. I would let you have a horse of mine if I had one to spare, but I’m afraid I don’t. But I will give you what I do have, and that is my advice, as long as you’re willing to sit here and listen to an old farmer.”
“I will gladly listen, sir,” said Gabriel.
“First things first, what is your name?” asked Ben.
“Gabriel Cooper.”
“Well, Master Cooper, you know all about what happened at Lexington and Concord only just a few weeks ago?”
Not wanting to appear unknowing, Gabriel stuttered, “Of . . . of course.” In truth, he knew very little about what had happened. The newspapers in New York had stories about shots being fired, leading to a skirmish. Patriot papers wrote of blood having been spilled in the name of liberty. Tory papers downplayed the events, exclaiming the success, bravery, and honor of the King’s troops.
Ben looked at him intently. “I said I would give you advice, and here is the first piece. When someone is willing to tell you something that you do not know much about, listen. Even if you are the smartest person in the world, you pretend to be dumb as rock and listen. You are bound to learn something. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” replied Gabriel.
“Now we will try this again. Do you know all about what happened at Lexington and Concord?” asked Ben.
“No, sir,” said Gabriel.
“Much better, my boy,” replied Ben as he slapped the table. “Mind you now, all that I’m about to tell you comes straight from my brother Jacob’s mouth. He’s a blacksmith and a militiaman who has a house in the town of Lexington. It all started late at night when my brother was out taking care of a newborn calf. He heard someone on horseback shouting, ‘The regulars are coming out!’ Turns out it was a man by the name of Revere who spread the word through the Massachusetts countryside. All those militiamen knew to grab their muskets and protect their homes. Old General Gage thought he would be able to walk right in and capture Sam Adams, Hancock, and all the other Sons of Liberty without a fight. Well, he was wrong, by golly. The lobsterbacks got a fight, all right, and decided they best leave Misters Adams and Hancock alone and head on to Concord where the patriots had a supply of weapons and ammunition. Do you understand?” asked Ben.
Gabriel thought for a second. He had heard of Sam Adams and John Hancock and knew the Sons of Liberty spoke for the rights of patriots. He had read in a newspaper that the king was furious and had declared Massachusetts in open rebellion. The king had charged Adams and Hancock with high treason and called for their arrest. But Gabriel had never heard of Revere. “Who is Mr. Revere, and how did he know the regulars were marching out of Boston?”
“Mr. Revere — Paul’s his first name — lived in Boston. He figured that one day the soldiers were bound to leave Boston neck to capture Sam Adams and John Hancock, up in Lexington. He also heard that the redcoats were going to capture the militia’s supply of guns and ammunition. So Revere, along with a few others, formed a plan to alert the militia throughout the Massachusetts countryside as to when the regulars were on the march.”
“How did they get out of Boston without the regulars knowing?” By now Gabriel was mesmerized by Ben’s telling of the events.
“Well, now,” responded Ben, “getting out of Boston was no small feat. One man rode out at night just before the sentries sealed off the neck. Revere, himself, rowed ashore to Charles Town, right between two of His Majesty’s ships. Had the redcoats in those ships seen Revere sneaking across the river that time of night . . . well, he might not have made his ride.”
“I’m glad he was able to sneak past the ships and get out of Boston,” Gabriel responded.
“As am I,” said Ben. “They won the race out of Boston against the British. General Gage’s columns did not leave until a couple of hours after these brave riders had warned the militiamen. About seven hundred regulars marched all night. They reached Lexington Green at about the time the sun was coming up. When they got to the town, right there in front of them at the far edge of the green, stood the militiamen, including my brother, Jacob, guns in hand and standing proud. We should all be proud of these men, Gabriel. My brother and seventy-six men on the Green up against seven hundred of His Majesty’s finest. Those patriots stood their ground. What a sight that would have been . . .” said Ben, trailing off in a trance.
Through Ben’s words, Gabriel could feel the tension and excitement those militiamen
