As the signal, the hoisting of a blue flag, was given, the British host began to advance across the river, their artillery in the leading barges. A breeze drove the smoke to the northward, and the lads, as they stood in the redoubt, had a clear view of the crossing. And Ezra, as he looked, drew in a deep breath.
“If splendor of appearance ever wins battles, surely this detachment will be the winner today,” he said.
“But it never does,” said Gilbert Scarlett, a rifle in the hollow of his arm. “Accurate firing, steadiness and the resolve to stick to it until the very last shot, is what brings victory.”
The brilliant scarlet coats, the white cross belts, the gleam of the rifle barrels and brass guns formed a most dazzling and impressive sight. And the boats came with the regularity of machinery; the heavy frigates and brisker gunboats covered their advance with a continuous thunder of guns.
The Americans did little to halt the British progress. The time for action, as their wise commanders had decided, had not yet arrived.
“And they are right,” commented Gilbert Scarlett. “Our cannon are few and of light weight, and to fire on the shipping would be waste of powder.” Even the troop-barges, he pointed out, were difficult to hit, up to the moment of their landing.
This latter occurred just one hour after the start, and Moulton’s Point was the place selected. Not a shot was fired at the British force as they left their boats, and they immediately formed in orderly array. There was a long halt. General Howe, after examining the American works, seemed to think very well of them, for he at once sent back across the river a demand for reinforcements. And while these were being sent the British officers, with the nonchalance that experience brings, very quietly dined.
Prescott and Putnam and their force lay stubbornly behind the earthworks waiting for the foe to make the first move. But beyond, at Cambridge, all was excitement and uproar. Bells clashed and swung in the church towers, drums beat to arms, and guns roared their warning that the British had crossed in force.
There was no need now for General Ward to withhold the regiments still under his command; all along he had been afraid to send too many men to Breed’s Hill, thinking that the attack might be leveled at Cambridge. Now he reserved but Patterson’s, Gardener’s and part of Bridge’s regiments to protect the town; the remainder of the Massachusetts force and what was left of Putnam’s Connecticut men were hurried forward to the point of attack.
Dr. Warren appeared at the earthworks at this time and was greeted with cheers. The men were exhausted and hungry, and for a time had been inclined to suspect the good faith of their officers. But now with such men as Warren, Putnam, Prescott and, later, General Pomeroy, plain in their sight, they were quiet and patient enough.