Whilst he waited in Randolph, Lieut. Van Sicklen, amidst roars of applause, roused the people to rally round the flag, and made such a patriotic speech from the porch of Dr. Timothy Baylies’ Tavern, that the assembled crowd was carried away by his enthusiasm and shouted, wildly:
“Down with the British!”
It was a fire of patriotism burning high and clear, lighting the state from North to South.
Presently, on foot, on horseback, in wagons and in “shays,” they swept out into the winding highways and headed toward Montpelier, where the Government arms were stored, with a great cracking of whips and cheering.
Eighty-five volunteers went from Randolph, with Captain Egerton Lebbins in command. In a fine fever of enthusiasm they were as splendid a set of men as Morgan had come across in his journey, showing much heroism and ardor, but their clothes were odd to see, goodness knows! One thing and another thrown on at random; but not once did it occur to any of them to doubt the propriety of the strange costumes.
Fortunate ones had entire buff and blue Continental uniforms, inherited from father or grandfather or once worn by themselves—which was a proud boast—some were stained darkly, telling the tale of another war. Others had brass buttons hastily sewn on their everyday coats. Still others had but one button—a sort of badge—but these were great treasures, for did they not bear the inscription, “Long live our President,” and did they not have his initials—G. W.—on them?
Their arms, when they started out, were as varied as their coats. Hunting knives, long muskets, spears made at the forge, of scraps of iron tied to oak staffs with raw hide, Indian arrow heads stuck into short hickory handles, and such like.
But after all, the wonder was that they could get together any sort of suggestive garb, or cared to—New England being in such a fever of dissatisfaction over the war.
Their mission completed, Lieut. Van Sicklen and Morgan returned to Burlington, and the day following this, Captain Dulaney rode his horse down to the wharf and, with many other officers, boarded the boat for Plattsburg.
The leaky old sloop, used to convey Captain Lebbins’ “heroes” across, was washed up on Juniper Island in a storm of rain, and great was the anxiety concerning the brave fellows. A life boat was hurriedly manned and sent to their rescue—instead of finding the soldiers perishing properly, in true shipwreck fashion, the life-saving party found them celebrating their patriotism with Medford rum, high and dry on the island! “The wreck of Juniper Island” was the subject of many a song and story for long years in Randolph.