With the rising of the sun all was activity about Salem inn. Many details remained to be looked after. The men, few of whom had before been with such a large expedition, were much excited.
There was a clattering of swords and muskets; good byes were being called out on every side; and some careful men were doing up extra pairs of socks that their good dames had provided.
“What canst thou do with that weapon, friend John Post?” called one man to another who carried an exceeding heavy and clumsy musket.
“Shoot an Indian or a Frencher for a surety,” answered John.
“Then thou’lt have to get a squad to help ye load and fire it. For if ye don’t the Indians would eat you up before you could put match to the powder.”
“Never mind, never mind,” responded he with the ancient weapon. “The gun did damage to the enemies of His Gracious Majesty, when thou wert hiding behind thy mother’s skirt. ’Tis a good arm, and will serve now as well as thou!”
A laugh showed that the would-be jester had not hit the mark, and John Post marched on, well pleased with his little skirmish.
There were other wordy tilts between the men. Some, having nothing better to do for the time, engaged in leaping, running and wrestling, so that the inn yard looked like a fair ground. At length I ordered the drum beat and the men fell in, after some confusion.
About one hundred in all had responded to the summons, and I formed them into two commands, giving Cory one and letting Nicols lead the other. I would have a general command over both, and had made arrangements to sail on board the larger of the two sloops. Truly it was a goodly sight that morning, to see the little Colonial Army marching out, each man with his musket well cleaned, and with his bundle of matches, or his pouch of flints and ammunition slung by a thong on one side. Stout and able-bodied men they were, too, much given to prayer. Yet they need be none the less well thought of for that. For I had heard of their earlier battles against the Indians, and I knew that a well rounded psalm tune stayed not the sword arm, nor weakened the trigger finger. And, as they stepped out to march from the inn yard to the sloops, Master Willis, who stood on the steps, did lift his voice up in prayer, and after that the deep tones of men singing was heard.
Of the God of Israel they sang, pleading that they might be led on to battle against the enemy, as were their fore-fathers of old, in the days of King David.