CHAPTER IV.
MAKING HISTORY.
Unthroned and uncrowned as he was, James, for some inexplicable reason, still entertained a wild idea that the colonies, the patriots of which he had taken no pains to endear to his cause or himself, would still remain loyal and contented to acquiesce in his dominion. He made all haste to communicate with Sir William Phipps, as a representative of New England whom he had always honored and esteemed. He offered to appoint the Captain his Governor of all New England, with plenary powers, in almost any direction, concerning the old charter and all.
Promptly and with the blunt wisdom which marked his course through life, Phipps refused the honor. Catholicism had never appealed to his sense of good government, and loyalty to the English throne, from which the colonies had their being, was deeply ingrained in his nature. Gratitude to James for past favors, to which he felt he was somewhat entitled, was a large quality in Sir William, but between gratitude and folly he drew a sturdy line.
With Increase Mather, Phipps went to work at once at the Court of William of Orange, who with Mary ascended the British throne early in 1689. Intelligence as to the sinister machinations of Randolph and Andros leaked through the censorship, and came to Mather and the Captain. Their case was strengthened. The Prince of Orange was bound, by all the faith of his Protestant principles, to grant what release he might to the American colonies from the oppressors placed in power by the Stuarts.
The new King’s declaration of his sway was conveyed in haste to the American shores. It was taken overland from Virginia to Massachusetts. The spirit of the Puritans, which had simmered so long, began to make the sounds of boiling.
Andros, mighty in his sovereignty, arrested the messenger who had fetched the news, but the news had leaped from lip to lip, and the torch had been applied to combustible thought.
In March, John Winslow confirmed the declaration of the new monarchs. The people now gathered together their all-but-forgotten muskets and pikes. Against the flood-tide coming toward him, Governor Andros reared a barricade of threats. The frigate “Rose” was lying in the harbor, bristling with guns that showed like so many sinister, black fangs. Her decks were alive with soldiers. The Governor demanded the submission and disarmament of the people, on pain of death. He declared his intention of employing the cannon and arsenal of the frigate forthwith, if the angry disturbances did not immediately cease.
On the 18th of April the patriots were prepared with their answer. The captain of the frigate, with nearly all of his officers, had come ashore, to hold a conference with Andros and Randolph. The Puritans suddenly swooped down upon them and captured every Jack of the lot. The frigate was thus put out of action at one clever stroke.
Now rolled the alarm of beaten drums through the martial city of Boston. In their old Indian-fighting regalia, the citizens swarmed from their houses into the streets. They set up their ensign on Beacon Hill, at the edge of the Common, they fired a signal gun for action, and falling upon Randolph and many of the council, which Andros had collected about him, they rushed them to jail and took possession of the town.
The proclamation of King William was read, with loud acclaim. The excited populace surged in the narrow, crooked highways. The leaders demanded of Andros that he surrender both his office and himself. The man refused and fled to his stronghold, whence he defied the patriots and continued to the last to declare his power, though like water now fast escaping from his grasp.