These high hills completely command the harbor, in a military sense. Why the English generals did not take possession before Washington did no one ever knew. That was the sort of imbecility George III. got by appointing men to office because they were his relations. When, at last, the winter of 1775-1776 broke up, and no ice had formed strong enough for an attack on Boston over the ice, Washington seized these hills. By the road now called Dorchester Avenue, which Nathan Dudley showed our friends, he sent from the camp in Roxbury (“just behind where we live,” said Nathan) the men and munitions. It was all done by night. On the morning of the fifth of March the Americans had built a fortification which surprised the English officers in Boston as that on Bunker Hill had surprised them nine months before. “It was like Aladdin’s lamp,” wrote one of them.
General Howe’s first plan was to assault the works, as Gage had assaulted those at Bunker Hill. Howe sent an attacking force to the fort held by him on the island. But a storm made this attack impossible. Ward, the commander of the American right wing, strengthened his ranks. Thomas, the general in command on the heights, asked nothing better than an attack. But Howe, at the last, saw that the venture was madness. He entered into negotiations with Washington, and, a fortnight after, withdrew fleet and army. For several months there was not an English soldier on American soil.
The next day, when they visited the Historical Society, Nathan showed his cousins the original gold medal which Congress gave to Washington in honor of this victory. It was designed by a French artist, and struck in Paris. It represents Washington seated on his horse, on Dorchester Heights, as the squadron retires. It bears the proud motto:
“Hostibus primo Fugatis,”
which may be translated: “The first Flight of the Enemy.”
“Pray how did this medal come here?” said Caroline.
“By the fortune of war,” said her cousin. On this Monday evening, before they left the park, which now takes the place of the fortification, they looked at the tablet of stone which commemorates the history. They found the name of the mayor who put it up, but no allusion to General Ward who planned the work, or General Thomas, who carried it out. Such, alas, is fame!
When they left the hill the sun was going down. The elders and the girls took a car across Dover Street, by which they could go directly home. But Nathan led the boys to the public bath house, on one of the beaches; and there his western friends had their first experience of the exquisite luxury of a swim in the salt sea.