The population of Williamsburg at the time was only about two thousand, and it must be remembered that the country round about was not so thickly settled as Massachusetts, consequently the minute men couldn’t assemble so quickly; but there was buzzing enough in the morning when it was discovered what Lord Dunmore had done. The minute men of the town were for marching to Dunmore’s house and seizing him, but cooler heads prevailed.
The two boys had spent the previous day looking over the capital and visiting the college at the other end of the one long street, three quarters of a mile distant. They lodged at the famous Raleigh Tavern, which had sheltered the most prominent men of the day, and so were right in the midst of the hubbub when the excitement began. Out in the street they watched the people assemble and listened to the talk. 180 When some one proposed marching on the “palace,” a tipsy fellow cried out, “You jes’ th’ feller t’ go.”
Then when another bystander interfered and tried to take him away, he began to struggle, and was being roughly handled when a fat, pompous man bristled up, saying, “Treat him kindly.”
At that moment the drunken man, swinging his arms about wildly, struck the pompous man on the head, knocking his old three-cornered hat into the dust.
The change in the fat philanthropist was marvellous, for he jumped up and down crying, “Kill him, kill him.”
The crowd laughed. A man came running toward them saying, “They’ve sent for Patrick Henry.”
“I’ll see him, after all,” exclaimed Angus.
“I’ve got a message for him, so we had better ride to his home in New Castle. We may meet him,” Rodney replied.
“I want to see him and I want to see the fun.”
“Want to keep your cake and eat it too,” replied Rodney.