CHAPTER XIX.
"Had the land troops of the British gone away also, Captain?" asked Evelyn.
"No," he replied. "Early in May the British troops left the houses of the town and returned to their camp. It was some relief to the poor, outraged people whose dwellings had been turned into noisy barracks, their pleasant groves, beautiful shade-trees and broad forests destroyed, their property taken from them, their wives and children exposed to the profanity, low ribaldry, and insults of the ignorant and brutal soldiery; but there was by no means entire relief; they were still plundered and insulted.
"Clinton had gone to New York with about one half the troops, but a far worse tyrant held command in his place, Major-General Prescott by name; he was a dastardly coward when in danger, the meanest of petty tyrants when he felt it safe to be such, narrow minded, hard hearted and covetous,—anything but a gentleman. A more unfit man for the place could hardly have been found.
"When he saw persons conversing together as he walked the streets, he would shake his cane at them and call out, 'Disperse, ye rebels!' Also, he would command them to take off their hats to him, and unless his order was instantly obeyed, enforce it by a rap with his cane."
"That must have been hard indeed to bear," remarked Violet.
"Yes," cried Max hotly. "I'd have enjoyed knocking him down."
"Probably better than the consequences of your act," laughed his father; then went on: "Prescott was passing out of town one evening, going to his country quarters, when he overtook a Quaker, who of course did not doff his hat. Prescott was on horseback; he dashed up to the Quaker, pressed him up against a stone wall, knocked off his hat, and then put him under guard.
"He imprisoned many citizens of Newport without giving any reason. One was a man named William Tripp, a very respectable citizen, who had a wife and a large and interesting family, with none of whom was he allowed to hold any communication.
"But Tripp's wife had contrivance enough to open a correspondence with her husband by sending him a loaf of bread with a letter baked in the inside. Whether he could find means to send a reply I do not know, but it must have been some consolation to hear from her and his children.