At three o’clock the steamer Providence sailed with Davy on board, but not until a crowd of people had come to see him off. He responded with many bows, and the ship slipped out of the dock amid the cheers of the multitude. The passengers then gathered about him, and before their curiosity was satisfied the city was out of sight. As they passed through Hell Gate, a large, full-rigged British ship was seen coming in from the other side. This sight was an object lesson as to the need of coast defenses.
Davy was a good sailor, and walked the decks off Point Judith the next morning, without being seasick in the least. The sun came up like a ball of fire, and Davy says that it looked as it was brand-new. The sight of many stone fences amused him greatly, and he remarked that one of his cows would pitch over a dozen of that kind, “without flirting her tail.”
At Providence, where they landed about noon, another crowd greeted him. Refusing an invitation to stop at that city, Davy took his seat in the fast stage for Boston. “The driver was ordered to go ahead,” says Davy, “and sure enough he did. It was forty miles to Boston, and we run it down in four hours.” The stony nature of the land was a source of surprise to Davy, accustomed to the rich alluvium of Tennessee. He says the stones covered the earth as thick as Kentucky land-titles, and he wondered why the Lord hadn’t sent the Pilgrims better pilots.
Arrived in Boston, Davy landed at the Tremont House, which he calls a tavern, kept by Mr. Boyden.
“Mr. Boyden did not know me,” says Davy, “nor me him; but when I told him my name, where they put it on the bar-book, he treated me like an old friend, and continued to do so all the time I was there. He gave me a good room and a nice bed, and attended to me the kindest in the world. I had seen a great many fine taverns; but take this in and out, and Tremont House is a smart chance ahead.”
The first day in Boston was the occasion of a visit to Faneuil Hall, where General Davis showed Davy the arms and cannon of the State militia. The complete order, and the realization of the possibility of sending out the troops at a few minutes’ notice, deeply impressed the former scout.
“General Davis informed me,” he says, “that this was the house that was called the Cradle of Liberty. I reckon that old King George thought they were thundering fine children that was rocked in it, and a good many of them; and that no wonder his red-coats were licked, when the children came out with soldier clothes on and muskets in their hands. God grant that the liberty bough on which this cradle rocks may never break!”
At Roxbury, Davy was given a rubber hunting-coat, something entirely novel to him. This coat he afterwards took with him when he went to Texas. He next visited the good ship Constitution, and the battleground of Bunker Hill, where the great monument was already begun.
“I felt like calling them up,” he said, “and asking them to tell me how to help best to protect the liberty they bought for us with their blood; but as I could not do so, I resolved on that holy ground to go for my country, always and everywhere.” These were no idle words that Davy spoke.
Out of many invitations to dinner offered by the hospitable citizens, Davy chose that of the Young Whigs, at which a hundred were present. This was perhaps the crowning festivity of his journey.