"The Somerset ran out her deck-guns at sunset," added another. "What if she turned her swivel on us?"
"And how if they swept us off the causeway with a chain-shot?" asked Mount.
"What think you, Mr. Cardigan?" demanded an officer of Sudbury militia, leaning forward in his wet saddle to pat the dripping neck of his roan.
"I only know that I shall ride this night to Lexington," I said, impatiently, "and I am at your service, gentlemen, by land or sea. Pray you, decide quickly while the rain favours us."
"Is there a man among us dare demand a pass of the Governor?" asked the Sudbury officer, abruptly. "By Heaven, gentlemen, it is death by land or by sea if we make to force the lines this night!"
"And it is death to me if I stay here cackling," muttered Mount, as we caught the distant gallop of dragoons through stony Wiltshire Street.
We sat moodily in our saddles, huddled together in the darkness and rain, listening to the sound of the horses' feet on the pavement.
"I'd give a thousand guineas if I were on the Charlestown shore with Revere," muttered an officer.
"The Governor might sell you a pass for ten," observed another, sneeringly. "It will cost him a penny to keep his pretty bird o' paradise in plumes."
"If John Hancock were here he would get us a pass from Mrs. Hamilton," remarked the Sudbury officer.