"Before God and man, I will avouch the deed," answered Endicott. "Beat a flourish, drummer!—shout, soldiers and people!—in honor of the ensign of New England. Neither Pope nor Tyrant hath part in it now!"
With a cry of triumph the people gave their sanction to one of the boldest exploits which our history records.
Endicott was one of the court assistants, but he was now removed from his position and forbidden to hold any public office for one year. He was fortunate in being permitted to retain his head.
Endicott had been punished, but the Puritan conscience was not yet at rest, and now many of the militia declared that they did not think it right to march under the cross. The whole militia could not well be punished, and the commissioners for military affairs were as doubtful as the honest militia men about what should be done. "We will leave it to the next General Court to decide," they said, "and in the meantime no flags shall be used anywhere."
This seemed a comfortable way to settle the question, but unluckily there was a fort on Castle Island at the entrance to Boston Harbor, and when an English vessel came sailing in, its captain refused to pay any attention to a fort without a flag. Then the officer in command rose to his dignity and made the ship—maybe with the aid of a ball across her bows—strike her colors. The captain complained to the authorities that the commandant of this flagless fort had insulted his flag and his country. The authorities were just a bit alarmed. To insult a flag and a country was a serious matter. "What shall we do to make amends?" they queried. "Let the officer who proffered the insult come on board of my vessel and say in the presence of the ship's company that he was in fault," replied the captain. This was done, and the sky cleared.
But the troubles of the colonists were by no means over. The mate of another vessel declared with considerable emphasis that these people were all rebels and traitors to the King. Surely the thought of such a report as this going back to England from a tiny colony clinging to the edge of the continent was enough to alarm the boldest. Discussions were held, and Dr. John Cotton was appealed to.
A canny man was this Dr. John Cotton, and he decided that inasmuch as the fort belonged to the King, it was proper that it should display the King's Flag, whatever it might be,—"while vessels are passing," he added shrewdly; but that, as for the militia, each company might have its own colors, and not one of them need bear a cross. So the great tempest passed by.