The Young Continentals at Bunker Hill Part 30

But the heroic Stark replied, quietly:

"They are moving fast enough for men going into action. In a fight, one fresh man is as good as a dozen tired ones."

These troops, with Captain Knowlton's, took possession of a rail fence at the foot of Bunker Hill; and they set about extending it by throwing up a stone wall on the beach. Later Colonel Reed's force joined those of Connecticut and New Hamps.h.i.+re.

When Howe's reinforcements arrived, the British commander addressed his army, now of about three thousand men; then he gave the order to advance against the colonial force. At the same time a signal was given and the frigates, the floating batteries and that upon Copp's Hill, all centred their fire upon the fortifications. At the same time other British batteries in Boston began to throw sh.e.l.ls into Roxbury in an effort to burn that town.

The British advanced under cover of this terrific fire. The American artillery was but feeble and soon silenced. General Howe moved with his right wing, with which he hoped to burst through the Connecticut and New Hamps.h.i.+re men at the rail fence: General Pigot came on with the left, which aimed to storm the redoubt. At this point the attacking force found that twelve-pound shot had been sent to load six-pounder guns.

Howe was all but frantic with rage; but he ordered that the pieces be charged with grape and that the force continue to push on.

The miry ground, the tall gra.s.s, the heat and their heavy equipment burdened the British rank and file; but they regarded victory as a.s.sured; they felt nothing but contempt, in spite of Concord Bridge, for the "peasants" who so stubbornly faced them.

Coolly the Americans awaited.

"Hold your fire," commanded Prescott, "until they are within ten rods-and then wait for the word."

"Powder is scarce," cried General Putnam. "Don't waste a charge."

"Aim low," directed Dr. Warren. "Then you can't miss them."

"Wait till you see the whites of their eyes!"

"Through the middle of their red coats!" advised a rifleman, to whom, so it seemed, the white cross belts upon the scarlet coats offered a splendid target.

Pigot's command advanced nearer and nearer; the fire of the s.h.i.+pping ceased altogether, for the British were so close that sharp eyes in the American lines could pick out individuals. Nat Brewster pointed out a body of marines.

"There is our old friend, Major Pitcairn," said he to George Prentiss.

Both Nat and George had had rather an intimate acquaintance with that gallant and humane British officer, just previous to the Lexington fight.

"He is as smooth and unruffled as ever," laughed George, "and his men move like clockwork."

As the redcoats came on, a scattering fire began at some points.

"Wait for the word," shouted Prescott. And Ezra, Scarlett and Nat Brewster leaped upon the parapet and ran along, kicking up the leveled pieces. "Hold your fire, men."

The British, as they advanced, had kept up a continuous fire; and this made it all the more difficult for the Americans to restrain themselves.

However, they had not long to wait.

Step by step the brilliant array of British swung nearer. The sun sparkled upon their lines of rifle barrels; their faces were hard and scornful; the metal upon their harness shone like gold.

With an almost mystic sense of time Prescott caught the right moment.

Sharp, clear, ringing, his voice went up:

"Fire!"

Along the redoubt, and the full length of the breastwork, there was a level line of darting flame: like a shock of thunder the crash followed.

"Again!" rang the voice of Prescott as one line of his riflemen gave place to another. "Fire!"

Once more the flame points sprang outward; once more the crash followed; once more the bullets poured into the British.

The latter received the leaden hail with all the stoicism of the veterans that they were. Briskly they came on, sharply they answered, their ranks melting like wax all the time. But even they could not long face that awful rain; suddenly they wavered, furiously General Pigot sounded a retreat, and as the foe fell back a thunderous cheer went up from the colonials, behind the works.

"Good firing," commented Gilbert Scarlett, as he looked to his smoking rifle. "These countrymen of yours," he continued to Ezra, "need disciplining-yes; but no one need teach them how to shoot."

While this was happening, the line of Stark and Knowlton at the rail fence was grimly facing Howe and his oncoming force. The frightful rifle fire littered the ground with the British veterans; they broke and fled in disorder.

When this was seen from the redoubt, a tempest of cheers went up. Ezra made out in the thick of the retreat the fine figure of General Howe, as that gallant officer strove with his men, trying to get them into some semblance of order.

"See," said the boy, pointing, "he's bringing them into shape. I have heard that this General Howe is a very able officer; and his men seem to believe in him."

"His second attack will be warmer, I think," said Nat Brewster. "He'll know what to expect, and will no doubt make his plans accordingly."

They watched, as did the entire American force, the rea.s.sembling of the British. And while this was going on the battery at Copp's Hill began to throw sh.e.l.ls into Charlestown; also a party of marines landed upon its easterly side from the "Somerset" to fire the town.

Suddenly Ben Cooper cried out:

"Look there!"

A pall of smoke was rising above the town; then a fierce burst of flame ascended.

"They have fired Charlestown," said George Prentiss, his face paling.

"They think to frighten us. But it will take more than that."

The buildings were mainly of wood and the fire swept among them, swirling and devouring; huge, far-reaching tongues of red flame curled outward across the streets, from structure to structure, licking them up and leaving nothing but ashes behind.

In the midst of this terrifying disaster, General Howe ordered his second attack on the rail fence. This time his artillery got fairly into service; his men, as before, fired as they advanced.

The American officers, grown confident, cried out:

"Reserve your fire. Let them come within three rods!"

This command was followed. When the time once more arrived the American rifles spat their messengers of death at the enemy. Whole ranks of the British seemed to fall. In the midst of death General Howe cheered on his soldiers. Two of his aides were shot down while receiving his orders.

In the face of swift-coming death the soldiery faltered. The British officers were seen to strike some of them with their swords, urging them on. But it was no use. Again they gave way, this time rus.h.i.+ng to their boats and leaping in as though frantic with the fear of it all.

The flames roared and the smoke billowed over Charlestown. At the foot of Breed's Hill, the brilliant red-coated and white cross belted men huddled and ma.s.sed in seemingly hopeless confusion. The sun glinted upon their tall bra.s.s-fronted hats, their musket barrels threw off countless dancing reflections. Their officers raved among them in efforts to reform them; swords were drawn, and pistols were presented at the heads of the more stubborn.

Because of this panic among the British and because Howe was communicating with the Boston sh.o.r.e, the third attack was delayed. The Americans were thankful for this, and spent the time trying to bring up the further reinforcements sent to them. It was also discovered about this time that the ammunition was all but exhausted.

George Prentiss and Ben Cooper, mounted upon swift horses, were sent to bear this news to General Putnam, who had gone back to bring up the new men.

"Tell him to send us some powder, or we are lost," was Prescott's last and secret word with them.

When the two had raced furiously away, some artillery cartridges were pointed out by Gilbert Scarlett.

"Broken open, they would supply quite a few charges for the small arms,"