“You can have Old Ty,” he said, “and be sure you make good use of him.”
I did not understand, but Whitestone did. He knew Old Ty. He explained that Old Ty, which was short for “Old Ticonderoga,” was a twenty-four pounder taken at Ticonderoga early in the war by Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys. It had done so much service and in so many campaigns that the gunners had affectionately nicknamed the veteran Old Ty in memory of the fortress in which he had been taken.
“I’ve seen Old Ty,” said Whitestone. “He’s been battered about a good lot, but he’s got a mighty bad bark and a worse bite.”
In a few minutes the groaning of wheels and the shout of the driver to the horses announced the approach of Old Ty. I stood aside with respect while the gun passed, and a grim and fierce old veteran he was, full worthy the respect of a youngster such as I felt myself to be.
Old Ty was of very dark metal, and there were many scars upon him where he had received the blows of enemies of a like caliber. A wheel which had been struck by a ball in the heat of action was bent a trifle to one side, and Old Ty rolled along as if he were a little lame and didn’t mind it. His big black muzzle grinned at me as if he were proud of his scars, and felt good for many more.
Just behind the gun walked a man as ugly and battered as Old Ty himself.
“That’s Goss, the gunner,” said Whitestone. “He’s been with Old Ty all through the war, and loves him better than his wife.”
On went the fierce and ugly pair like two who knew their duty and loved it.
The night, as usual after the first rush of darkness, had begun to brighten a bit. We could see the British cannon, a long, ugly piece, without waiting for its flash; yet its gunners were protected so well by fresh-felled trees and a swell of the earth that our sharpshooters could not pick them off. They were in good position, and nothing lighter than Old Ty could drive them out of it.
The British saw what we were about and sought to check us. They fired more rapidly, and a cannon ball smashed one of the horses hitched to Old Ty almost to a pulp. But Goss sprang forward, seized one wheel, and threw the veteran into place.