“Are they all going to embark here?” asked Jud.
“No,” replied a man who was standing near by. “Some of ’em are on the way to North Battery.”
“Come on up there then,” said Don.
When the boys reached the battery most of the British who were embarking at that point were already in the boats.
By now some of the people in the North End had climbed to the roofs of their houses, from which points they would have an unobstructed view of Charlestown across the water and of the men-of-war. As the boys were coming from the North Battery, Jud shouted to a man who was perched astride his gabled roof: “Hey, there, is there room for two more?”
“Come right along if you’re not Tories,” replied the man. “I reckon it wouldn’t be safe for a Tory up here beside me to-day.”
Jud, impetuous by nature, ran to the ladder that was leaning against the house, and Don, naturally cautious but in the excitement forgetful of everything, followed him. In a minute the boys were beside the man—John Short, a saddle-maker—and were looking eagerly across the water.
CHAPTER X
FROM A HOUSETOP
The two boys and their patriotic friend, the saddle-maker, saw the barges loaded with red-clad soldiers steering for the point northeast of Charlestown and later saw the barges return for more troops. Close in toward the Charlestown shore they could see the men-of-war Falcon, Lively, Somerset and Symmetry, and all were firing at the little redoubt on the hill beyond the town.
“Who’s that walking along the top of the fort there?” Don asked suddenly.