The next day several men and youths appeared at the inn to enlist. I put their names down, and arranged for them to get arms, which would be sent from Boston. While the recruits were not much to boast of in looks they lacked not in spirit, which, after all, is the need of a soldier. Like some comrades with whom I have fought they seemed to go at fighting as they did at their religion, so that psalm tunes, rather than drinking songs and jests were heard among my men.
It was not long before enough had enrolled themselves at the inn, and then I began to drill them. I appointed as my lieutenants Giles Cory, a very muscular, though small man, and Richard Nicols, who had some notions of warfare. We marched the men back and forth on the common in front of the tavern, putting them through the exercise of arms. Soon they began to have quite a martial air and bearing, handling their muskets, matches and flints with skill.
Messages came from Sir William now and then, bidding me hasten my preparations. I had a goodly store of powder and ball. Flints, matches and guns we had enough of, and, also, two small cannon, with the necessary ordnance stores, which had been sent from Boston.
After dint of much practice I had my men in what I considered fair shape, and I took considerable pride in them. Sturdy fellows they were, most of them, stern of face, yet energetic, with a few daring spirits among them.
’Twas on a May day, when the air was exceedingly pleasant, that I strolled over the meadows, toward the little brook that flowed through the fields. Then, coming to the top of a little hill I saw, on the green slope, a squad of my soldiers. They were playing at games of strength, and, seeing me, stopped.
“Better this than idling at the tavern,” I said. “Keep at it, men, and let us see who has the strongest arms.”
“’Twas Lieutenant Cory, Captain,” spoke up Nicols. “He has put us all to shame so far. Look you,” and Nicols pointed to a heavy musket. “Giles did but grasp the end of the six-foot barrel in his hand, and yet he raised the gun out straight, and held it there at arm’s length without a tremor.”
I reached for the gun, and did the feat with little effort. It was an old trick, and one I had often done before while loitering about camp. But the crowd gaped, and, as for Cory, he seemed little pleased that a stranger in the town should have equalled his test of strength.
“What else?” I asked, smiling.
Nicols pointed to a barrel of cider that was on the grass.