XIV.
BENEVOLENCE AND BROTHERHOOD.
The summer of 1774 was waning. Once more Robert Walden was on his way to Boston. The wagon which Jenny and Paul were dragging was loaded with bags filled with corn and rye, not to be sold in the market, but a gift from Joshua Walden and his fellow-citizens of Rumford to the people of Boston. Parliament, in retaliation for the destruction of the tea, had passed an act closing the port to commerce.[50] After the first day of June, no vessels other than those of the navy could enter or depart from the harbor. Fishermen could no longer catch cod or mackerel for the market. Farmers on the banks of the Mystic could not dig potatoes from their fields and transport them down the river on the ebbing tide to the town dock. The people of Charlestown could not gather cabbages from their gardens, take them across the ferry, and peddle them in Boston. Only by the road leading to Roxbury could the suffering people be supplied with food. Besides closing the port, Parliament had abolished the charter of Massachusetts. The people no longer could elect thirty-six councilors; they were to be appointed by the king, instead. No more could they lawfully assemble in town meeting to elect representatives to the legislature. All rights and privileges were swept away.
It was near sunset when Robert turned into the highway leading from Roxbury to Boston. He was surprised to find fortifications—a ditch and embankment and cannon mounted upon it—at the narrowest part of the Neck. The sentinels glared at him, but did not offer any insult.[51] He knew several regiments of troops had already arrived, and it was reported that others would soon be sent from England to enforce the laws. He drove slowly along the street, past the Liberty Tree. A half dozen citizens were sitting on the benches beneath it smoking their pipes. There were few people but many soldiers in the streets. He watered the horses at the pump, then drove to the Green Dragon.
It was a hearty welcome which he received in the Brandon home.
“You find us under the harrow,” said Mr. Brandon. “The king and ministry are determined to crush the life out of us. All business has stopped. Grass is growing in the streets. Ship-carpenters, joiners, blacksmiths, ropemakers, are idle; no one has any work for them. Thousands have already left town, and others are going. Nobody can earn a penny, and we are all growing poorer. We should starve in a short time were it not for the kindness and benevolence of the people. We are receiving contributions of food from everywhere. Doctor Warren, John Hancock, and a large number of our public-spirited citizens are distributing the gifts.”
Tom said he was aiding the committee, looking after the poor. Not only were kind-hearted people sending grain, but flocks and herds.
“Only yesterday,” he said, “Colonel Israel Putnam, who served in the French and Indian war, arrived with a flock of sheep from Connecticut. Day before yesterday a sloop dropped anchor in Salem harbor, loaded with corn contributed by the people of North Carolina. It will be teamed into Boston. The Marblehead fishermen have just sent between two and three hundred quintals of codfish. The committee has received a letter from Mr. Gadsden of South Carolina, expressing the hope that we never will pay a cent for the blasted tea. As evidence that South Carolina is with us, he sent one hundred casks of rice, contributed by his fellow-citizens, shipping it to Providence, to be hauled the rest of the way by teams. The people of Baltimore loaded a vessel with three thousand bushels of corn, twenty barrels of rye flour, and as many of shipbread. Herds of cattle and flocks of sheep are driven in every day. The town of Lebanon, Connecticut, sent three hundred and seventy sheep; Norwich, two hundred and ninety; Groton, one hundred sheep and twenty-six fat cattle. Two schooners have arrived at Salem, bringing three thousand bushels of corn from Maryland. Another vessel brought one thousand bushels from Virginia.”