“Goodness!” exclaimed Aunt Martha.
“It’s true,” declared Jud, “everything I’ve told you. The Tories are scared silly!”
“Have you seen Tom Bullard?” asked Don.
“Yes; I passed him on the way. He didn’t seem scared, though—maybe he’s just too stupid. He shook his fist at me, and he said, ‘You’d better keep away from Pudding Lane if you know what’s good for you.’”
“What did he mean?” asked Aunt Martha.
“Nothing, I guess,” said Don. “He likes to talk, that’s all.”
Throughout the rest of the day the town was a place of keen excitement. Howe, it seems, had decided to accept Washington’s challenge and attack the Heights. He was a brave man, and his own honor as well as the honor of England was at stake; he did not mean to yield weakly to a band of “rebels.” He ordered twenty-four hundred men to embark at once in transports; under the command of Lord Percy, they were to land at Castle William, from which place they were to attack Dorchester Heights when night fell.
Don and Jud saw the Redcoats assemble for the attack and then march off. They saw Hawkins, tall, erect, well-composed and confident; they saw Snell marching in another rank—and he seemed anything but confident.
By noon virtually everyone in Boston and the vicinity expected to see a terrible battle. It seemed inevitable, for both sides were preparing for it. While the British were mustering for the attack on Dorchester Heights, Washington was preparing to attack the British lines in Boston. A fine detachment of four thousand troops were on parade in Cambridge; under the command of Generals Putnam, Greene and Sullivan they were all ready to embark in boats at the mouth of the river. And, as at Bunker Hill, people had taken up points of vantage on the tops of houses and on some of the near-by hills.
But somewhat to the disappointment of Don and Jud the two armies were not to meet. In the afternoon the wind blew furiously, and a wild destructive surf crashed and pounded on the shores; no boat could possibly land with safety in such a storm. Great limbs cracked and crashed on the Common, and boards and shingles were torn from many of the houses. The two boys, hurrying along Long Acre, narrowly missed being struck with a pile of stones that came tumbling from a chimney on a house near Rawson’s Lane.