NORTH BRIDGE
The minute-men stood under the trees at the right; the British, the other side of the river
“Scatter now! Get upon their flank! Pepper ’em from behind walls and trees!” shouted Colonel Barrett, who saw that it would be useless to follow the retreating enemy in battalion order, but each man, acting for himself, could run through fields and pastures and keep up a tormenting fire.
Acting upon the order, Roger and James Heywood ran through a piece of woods towards Fiske Hill. They came upon a British soldier drinking at a well by a house.
“You are a dead man,” shouted the redcoat, raising his gun.
“So are you,” said Heywood. Their muskets flashed and both fell, the Britisher with a bullet through his heart, and Heywood mortally wounded.
From rock heap, tree, fence, and thicket the guns of the minute-men were flashing. The soldiers who had marched so proudly, keeping step to the drumbeat in the morning, were running now. No hurrah went up as at sunrise on Lexington Common. There was no halting at Buckman’s tavern, where they had fired their first volley. Their ranks were in confusion. Officers were trying to rally them, threatening to cut them down with their swords if they did not show a bold front to the minute-men, but the Yankees seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere. Bullets were coming from every direction, yet the British could see no men in line, no ranks at which they could take aim or charge with the bayonet. They were still twelve miles from Boston, and their ammunition failing. They were worn and weary with the all-night march, and were hungry and thirsty. The road was strewn with their fallen comrades. The wounded were increasing in number, impeding their retreat. Their ranks were broken. All was confusion. Every moment some one was falling.[63] Blessed the sight that greeted them,—the brigade of Earl Percy, drawn up in hollow square by Mr. Munroe’s tavern, with two cannon upon the hillocks by the roadside. They rushed into the square and dropped upon the ground, panting and exhausted with their rapid retreat.
Roger halted a few minutes on Lexington Green, where the conflict began in the morning. He saw the ground stained with the blood of those who had fallen,—crossed the threshold where Jonathan Harrington had died in the arms of his wife. Across the Common the house and barn of Joseph Loring were in flames, set on fire by the British.
Earl Percy’s troops were ransacking the houses a little farther down the road. In Mr. Munroe’s tavern they were compelling old John Raymond to bring them food, and because he could not give them what they wanted, sent a bullet through his heart.[64]