Captain Hardwick informed Henry that there was some delay about the stores, and that it would require several hours at least to transship them. The Iroquois could not leave before late afternoon, and might not get away before the next day. He secured a pass for Henry and told him to look at Boston to his heart’s content, but to be sure not to get lost.
“I’ve heard that it is hard to get around in Boston,” agreed Henry.
“You’ll get lost, sure,” laughed the captain. “Everybody does.”
“Where could I get a map?” inquired Henry. “I wouldn’t get lost with a map.”
“You may have mine,” said the commander. And he got for Henry a fine little book of maps that folded between stiff covers. One of these maps was of Boston.
On his way to the gate Henry noticed numerous buildings, like the commissary stores. And there was a long row of houses, evidently for the use of officers attached to the Navy Yard, with the commandant’s house standing conspicuously near by. The row of houses looked out on a small park, with a band stand in it, and Henry thought it must be very delightful to be in the park on summer evenings and listen to the marine bands.
Once outside the gate, Henry found it was no trick at all to reach Bunker Hill Monument. That was just around the corner, as it were, up on a bit of high ground. A few minutes’ walk brought Henry to it. He found that the monument stood at the very apex of a considerable mound, that was the size of a city block or two, and was laid out very pleasingly with lawns and walks. Attractive residences faced the monument on all four sides of the square. Henry found a policeman patrolling the grounds, and the man seemed very willing to answer questions. He showed Henry where the American fortifications lay, and where the British troops swarmed the hill. A stone memorial marked one corner of the redoubt. The monument itself, which was something more than two hundred feet high, was exactly like the Washington Monument, Henry learned, for the guide told him that the Washington Monument had been modeled after it.
With interest Henry saw where the British troops had formed at the foot of Breed’s Hill and marched up to the redoubt, only to be hurled back twice by the unbearably deadly fire of the American marksmen. To be sure, the land was now covered with solid blocks of buildings, but Henry tried to picture to himself the field as it was in 1775, with long, waving grass and a straggling stone wall behind which some of the American troops took position.
His heart was filled with emotion as he left this spot, sacred to liberty, and made his way down the hill again. His map showed him that he was not far from Faneuil Hall. He wanted to see that old building almost as much as he had wanted to see Bunker Hill. He found his way to it, and was much interested in the curious old structure.
The great market house filled an entire small block, for, from its birth, Faneuil Hall had been primarily a market. Henry walked completely around it. Dozens of market dealers in dozens of stalls offered all sorts of green foodstuffs for sale. Their wares were temptingly displayed along the sidewalk. Celery, onions, apples, potatoes, and all the various vegetables and green foods that we commonly eat were here to be found. When he entered the market house itself, he found it divided into two parts, through each of which went a long, central aisle, with stalls on each side. Meats and poultry were to be had here. It made Henry hungry to see the countless cuts of beef and veal and mutton.