“The ignoramus,” continued Mr. Rowe, “does not know that no molasses is made in these Colonies. He confounds this and the other Colonies with Jamaica. One would suppose Lord North would not be quite so bitter, but he said in a recent speech that America must be made to fear the king; that he should go on with the king’s plan until we were prostrate at his feet.”
“Not much will we get down on our knees to him,” said Peter Bushwick. “Since the war with France, to carry on which the Colonies contributed their full share, the throne isn’t feared quite as much as it was. Americans are not in the habit of prostrating themselves.”
Captain Mackintosh once more broke into a song.
“Come join hand in hand, Americans all;
By uniting we stand, dividing we fall.
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain,
For shame is to freedom more dreadful than pain.
In freedom we’re born, in freedom we’ll live.
Our purses are ready: steady, boys, steady,
Not as slaves but as freemen our money we’ll give.”
The Sons again clapped their hands and resolved that they would drink no more tea. The formal business of the evening being ended, they broke into groups, helped themselves to crackers and cheese, and lighted their pipes.
A young man about Robert’s age came and shook hands with him.
“Did I understand correctly that you are Robert Walden from Rumford?” he asked.
“That is my name, and I am from Rumford.”
“Then we are cousins; I am Tom Brandon.”