The Yankee Tea-party

THE TREASON OF BETTYS

"When the Revolutionary War broke out," said Davenport, beginning his narrative, "there was a man named Joseph Bettys, who lived in Ballston, New York, remarkable for his courage, strength and intelligence. Colonel Ball of the Continental forces saw that Bettys might be of great service to our cause, and succeeded in enlisting him as a serjeant. But he was soon afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account of his insolence to an officer, who, he said, had abused him without cause. Colonel Ball was not acquainted with the facts of the affair, but being unwilling to lose so active and courageous a man, he procured him the rank of a serjeant in the fleet commanded by General Arnold, on Lake Champlain. Bettys was as skilful a seaman as could be found in the service, and during the desperate fight between the fleets which occurred in the latter part of 1776, he rendered more service than any other man except Arnold himself. He fought until every commissioned officer on board of his vessel was either killed or wounded, then took command himself, and fought with such reckless and desperate spirit, that General Waterbury seeing the vessel was about to sink, ordered Bettys and the remnant of his crew to come on board his vessel. Waterbury then stationed Bettys on his quarter-deck, and gave orders through him until his vessel was crippled, and the crew mostly killed or wounded, when the colours were struck to the enemy. After that action Bettys went to Canada, and, turning traitor, received an ensign's commission in the British army. He then became a spy, and one of the most subtle enemies of our cause. But our men were wide awake. Bettys was arrested, tried and condemned to be hung at West Point. His old parents and many influential Whigs entreated that he should be pardoned, promising that he would mend his life. General Washington, you know, never took life where it could be spared, and so he granted the pardon. But it was generosity thrown away; Bettys hated the Americans the more because they had it in their power to pardon him, and resolved to make them feel he could not be humbled and led in that way. The Whigs regretted the mercy that had spared the traitor. Bettys recruited soldiers for the enemy in the very heart of the country; captured and carried of the most zealous patriots, and subjected them to great suffering. Those against whom he had the most hatred, had their houses burned, and often lost their lives. The British commander paid him well, for he was one of the best spies and most faithful messenger that could be found. His courage and determination overcame every obstacle and encountered every danger that would have appalled weaker men. He proclaimed himself to be a man who carried his life in his hand, and was as reckless of it as he would be of that of any who should attempt to catch him. It was well understood that Bettys meant precisely what he said, and that he always had a band of refugees ready to support him in any rascality he might conceive. Still, there were some bold men, who had suffered from Bettys' depredations, and who determined to catch him at every hazard. Many attempts were made, but he eluded his pursuers by his stratagems and knowledge of the country, until early in January, 1782, when he was seen in the neighbourhood of Ballston, armed, and with snow-shoes on. Three men, named Cory, Fulmer, and Perkins, armed themselves and proceeded in pursuit. They traced Bettys by a round-about track to the house of a well-known Tory. They consulted a few minutes, and one of them reconnoitred to see the exact position of Bettys. The traitor was at his meal, with his pistols lying on the table and his rifle resting on his arm, prepared for an attack though not suspecting foes were near. The three men, by a sudden effort, burst open the door, rushed upon Bettys, and seized him in such a manner that he could make no resistance. He was then pinioned so firmly that to escape was impossible; and so the desperado, in spite of all his threats, was a tame and quiet prisoner, and no one hurt in taking him. Bettys then asked leave to smoke, which was granted; and he took out his tobacco, with something else which he threw into the fire. Cory saw this movement, and snatched it out, with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, containing a paper, written in cypher, which the men could not read. It was afterwards found to be a despatch to the British commander at New York, with an order upon the Mayor of that city for thirty pounds, if the despatch was safely delivered. Bettys knew that this paper alone would be evidence enough to hang him, and he offered the men gold to let him burn it. But they refused his highest offers. He had a considerable quantity of gold about him, and he offered them not only that but much more if they would allow him to escape; but their patriotism could stand gold as well as the gold could stand fire. They took Bettys to Albany, where he was tried as a spy and hung. The only reward that the three men ever received was the rifle and pistols of Bettys. The men who captured André were patriotic enough, but their work was easy compared with that of Cory, Fulmer and Perkins. Yet the names of these heroes are scarcely ever mentioned, and the story of their daring exploit is not generally known."

"Did this affair happen before that of André's?" enquired Hand. "If so, these men only imitated the noble example of Paulding, Williams and Van Wert."

"It did occur after the capture of André," replied Davenport. "But that takes nothing from the danger of the attempt, or the amount of the temptation resisted."

"That's true," replied Hand; "but the capture of André, and the favour with which our countrymen regarded his captors, may have stimulated many to patriotic exertions, and thereby have made such deeds so common as not to receive special notice. I've no doubt the researches of historians will yet bring to light many such deeds."

"How the conduct of such men as Arnold and Bettys contrasts with that of Samuel Adams and his fellow-patriots!" remarked Warner. "When the first resistance was made to quartering the British troops in Boston, Samuel Adams was the leader and mouth-piece of the patriots, and the royal rulers of Massachusetts tried every way to induce him to abandon the cause he had espoused. In the first place, they threatened him with severe punishment. But they couldn't scare him from his chosen course. Then they flattered and caressed him, but it was of no effect. At last, Governor Gage resolved to try whether bribes wouldn't work a change. So, he sent Col. Fenton to him, as a confidential messenger. The Colonel visited Adams, and stated his business at length, concluding with a representation that by complying, Adams would make his peace with the king. The stern patriot heard him through, and then asked him if he would deliver his reply to Governor Gage as it should be given. The Colonel said he would. Then Adams assumed a determined manner, and replied, 'I trust I have long since made my peace with the King of kings. No personal consideration shall induce me to abandon the righteous cause of my country. Tell Governor Gage, it is the advice of Samuel Adams to him, no longer to insult the feelings of an exasperated people.' There was the highest reach of patriotic resolution."

"Aye, Samuel Adams was whole-souled and high-souled," said Davenport. "No one will dispute that, who knows any thing of his history."

"New England had a host of patriots at the same period," observed Kinnison. "Many of them did not possess the talents and energy of Samuel Adams, but the heart was all right."

THE BATTLE OF BUNKER'S HILL

"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Hand, "there is a most important matter, which you have omitted. You have told us nothing of Bunker Hill's memorable fight, in which, as Bostonians and friends of liberty, we feel the deepest interest. Which of you can oblige us by giving us your recollections of our first great struggle?"

"Mr. Warner was one of Col. Starke's men. He can tell you all about it," said Colson.

"Aye, if memory serves me yet," said Warner, "I can tell you much of that day's struggle. I joined Col. Starke's regiment shortly before the battle. I always admired Starke, and preferred to serve under him. I suppose you are acquainted with the general features of the battle, and therefore I will not detain you long, with reciting them.

"On the sixteenth of June, 1775, it was determined that a fortified post should be established at or near Bunker's Hill.

"A detachment of the army was ordered to advance early in the evening of that day, and commence the erection of a strong work on the heights in the rear of Charlestown, at that time called Breed's Hill, but from its proximity to Bunker Hill, the battle has taken its name from the latter eminence, which overlooks it.

"The work was commenced and carried on under the direction of such engineers as we were able to procure at that time. It was a square redoubt, the curtains of which were about sixty or seventy feet in extent, with an entrenchment, or breast-work, extending fifty or sixty feet from the northern angle, towards Mystic river.

"In the course of the night, the ramparts had been raised to the height of six or seven feet, with a small ditch at their base, but it was yet in a rude and very imperfect state. Being in full view from the northern heights of Boston, it was discovered by the enemy, as soon as daylight appeared; and a determination was immediately formed by General Gage, for dislodging our troops from this new and alarming position. Arrangements were promptly made for effecting this important object. The movements of the British troops, indicating an attack, were soon discovered; in consequence of which orders were immediately issued for the march of a considerable part of our army to reinforce the detachment at the redoubts on Breed's Hill; but such was the imperfect state of discipline, the want of knowledge in military science, and the deficiency of the materials of war, that the movement of the troops was extremely irregular and devoid of every thing like concert—each regiment advancing according to the opinions, feelings, or caprice, of its commander.

"Colonel Stark's regiment was quartered in Medford, distant about four miles from the point of anticipated attack. It then consisted of thirteen companies, and was probably the largest regiment in the army. About ten o'clock in the morning, he received orders to march. The regiment being destitute of ammunition, it was formed in front of a house occupied as an arsenal, where each man received a gill-cup full of powder, fifteen balls, and one flint.

"The several captains were then ordered to march their companies to their respective quarters, and make up their powder and ball into cartridges, with the greatest possible despatch. As there were scarcely two muskets in a company of equal calibre, it was necessary to reduce the size of the balls for many of them; and as but a small proportion of the men had cartridge-boxes, the remainder made use of powder-horns and ball-pouches.

"After completing the necessary preparations for action, the regiment formed, and marched about one o'clock. When it reached Charlestown Neck, we found two regiments halted, in consequence of a heavy enfilading fire thrown across it, of round, bar, and chain shot, from the Lively frigate, and floating batteries anchored in Charles river, and a floating battery laying in the river Mystic. Major M'Clary went forward, and observed to the commanders, if they did not intend to move on, he wished them to open and let our regiment pass: the latter was immediately done.

"Soon after, the enemy were discovered to have landed on the shore of Morton's Point, in front of Breed's Hill, under cover of a tremendous fire of shot and shells from a battery on Copp's Hill, in Boston, which had opened on the redoubt at day-break.

"Major-general Howe and Brigadier-general Pigot, were the commanders of the British forces which first landed, consisting of four battalions of infantry, ten companies of grenadiers, and ten of light infantry, with a train of field-artillery. They formed as they disembarked, but remained in that position until they were reinforced by another detachment.

"At this moment, the veteran and gallant Colonel Stark harangued his regiment, in a short, but animated address; then directed them to give three cheers, and make a rapid movement to the rail-fence which ran to from the left, and about forty yards in the rear of the redoubt, towards Mystic river. Part of the grass, having been recently cut, lay in winnows and cocks on the field. Another fence was taken up—the rails run through the one in front, and the hay, mown in the vicinity, suspended upon them, from the bottom to the top, which had the appearance of a breast-work, but was, in fact, no real cover to the men; it, however, served as a deception on the enemy. This wag done by the direction of the 'Committee of Safety,' as I afterwards heard. That committee exerted itself nobly.

"At the moment our regiment was formed in the rear of the rail-fence, with one other small regiment from New Hampshire, under the command of Colonel Reid, the fire commenced between the left wing of the British army, commanded by General Howe, and the troops in the redoubt, under Colonel Prescott; while a column of the enemy was advancing on our left, on the shore of Mystic river, with an evident intention of turning our left wing, and that veteran and most excellent regiment of Welsh fusileers, so distinguished for its gallant conduct in the battle of Minden, advanced in column directly on the rail-fence; when within eighty or an hundred yards, displayed into line, with the precision and firmness of troops on parade, and opened a brisk, but regular fire by platoons, which was returned by a well-directed, rapid, and fatal discharge from our whole line.

"The action soon became general, and very heavy from right to left In the course of ten or fifteen minutes, the enemy gave way at all points, and retreated in great disorder; leaving a large number of dead and wounded on the field.

"The firing ceased for a short time, until the enemy again formed, advanced, and recommenced a spirited fire from his whole line. Several attempts were again made to turn our left; but the troops, having thrown up a slight stone-wall on the bank of the river, and laying down behind it, gave such a deadly fire, as cut down almost every man of the party opposed to them; while the fire from the redoubt and rail-fence was so well directed and so fatal, especially to the British officers, that the whole army was compelled a second time to retreat with precipitation and great confusion. At this time, the ground occupied by the enemy was covered with his dead and wounded. Only a few small detached parties again advanced, which kept up a distant, ineffectual, scattering fire, until a strong reinforcement arrived from Boston, which advanced on the southern declivity of the hill, In the rear of Charlestown. When this column arrived opposite that angle of the redoubt which faced Charlestown, it wheeled by platoons to the right, and advanced directly upon the redoubt without firing a gun. By this time, our ammunition was exhausted. A few men only had a charge left.

"The advancing column made an attempt to carry the redoubt by assault, but at the first onset every man that mounted the parapet was cut down, by the troops within, who had formed on the opposite side, not being prepared with bayonets to meet the charge.

"The column wavered for a moment, but soon formed again; when a forward movement was made with such spirit and intrepidity as to render the feeble efforts of a handful of men, without the means of defence, unavailing; and they fled through an open space, in the rear of the redoubt, which had been left for a gateway. At this moment, the rear of the British column advanced round the angle of the redoubt, and threw in a galling flank-fire upon our troops, as they rushed from it, which killed and wounded a greater number than had fallen before during the action. The whole of our line immediately after gave away, and retreated with rapidity and disorder towards Bunker's Hill; carrying off as many of the wounded as possible, so that only thirty-six or seven fell into the hands of the enemy, among whom were Lt. Col. Parker and two or three other officers, who fell in or near the redoubt.

"The whole of the troops now descended the north-western declivity of Bunker's Hill, and recrossed the neck. Those of the New Hampshire line retired towards Winter Hill, and the others on to Prospect Hill.

"Some slight works were thrown up in the course of the evening,—strong advance pickets were posted on the roads leading to Charlestown, and the troops, anticipating an attack, rested on their arms.

"It is a most extraordinary fact that the British did not make a single charge during the battle, which, if attempted, would have been decisive, and fatal to the Americans, as they did not carry into the field fifty bayonets. In my company there was not one.

"Soon after the commencement of the action, a detachment from the British forces in Boston was landed in Charlestown, and within a few moments the whole town appeared in a blaze. A dense column of smoke rose to a great height, and there being a gentle breeze from the southwest, it hung like a thunder-cloud over the contending armies. A very few houses escaped the dreadful conflagration of this devoted town."

EXPLOITS OF PETER FRANCISCO

"I say, men, the story of Bunker Hill is old enough, and the events of that day have caused enough dispute already. We know that we taught the red-coats a good, round lesson, and we shouldn't fight about particulars. Now, young men, I'll tell you a story about a real hero," said Pitts.

"Who was he?" enquired Hand.

"His name was Peter Francisco, and he was a trooper in our army," replied Pitts. "Now, I'll tell you what he did.

"While the British troops were spreading havoc and desolation all around them, by their plundering and burnings in Virginia, in 1781, Peter Francisco had been reconnoitring, and whilst stopping at the house of a Mr. Wand, in Amelia county, nine of Tarleton's cavalry coming up with three negroes, told him he was a prisoner. Seeing himself overpowered by numbers, he made no resistance; and believing him to be very peaceable they all went into the house, leaving the paymaster and Francisco together. He demanded his watch, money, &c., which being delivered to him, in order to secure his plunder, he put his sword under his arm, with the hilt behind him. While in the act of putting a silver buckle into his pocket, Francisco, finding so favourable an opportunity to recover his liberty, stepped one pace in his rear, drew the sword with force under his arm and instantly gave him a blow across the skull. His enemy was brave, and though severely wounded, drew a pistol, and, in the same moment that he pulled the trigger, Francisco cut his hand nearly off. The bullet grazed his side. Ben Wand (the man of the house) very ungenerously brought out a musket, and gave it to one of the British soldiers, and told him to make use of that. He mounted the only horse they could get, and presented it at his breast. It missed fire. Francisco rushed on the muzzle of the gun. A short struggle ensued, in which the British soldier was disarmed and wounded. Tarleton's troop of four hundred men were in sight. All was hurry and confusion, which Francisco increased by repeatedly hallooing, as loud as he could, 'Come on, my brave boys! now's your time! we will soon despatch these few, and then attack the main body!' The wounded man flew to the troop; the others were panic-struck, and fled. Francisco seized Wand, and would have despatched him, but the poor wretch begged for his life; he was not only an object of contempt, but pity. The eight horses that were left behind, he gave him to conceal. Discovering Tarleton had despatched ten more in pursuit of him, Francisco then made off, and evaded their vigilance. They stopped to refresh themselves, and he, like an old fox, doubled, and fell on their rear. He went the next day to Wand for his horses; Wand demanded two for his trouble and generous intentions. Finding his situation dangerous, and surrounded by enemies where he ought to have found friends, Francisco went off with his six horses. He intended to have avenged himself on Wand at a future day, but Providence ordained he should not be his executioner, for he broke his neck by a fall from of the very horses."