When the two rows of barges reached midstream they drew near to each other and then moved forward in two long lines, side by side, like pairs of marching men. They seemed to be headed for Moulton’s Point. Kitty watched them till they passed out of sight around a curve of the shore. Then she turned to face Gran and Sally Rose.
“Do—do you think they’re going to land?” she asked.
“Sakes alive, child,” answered Gran, “I don’t know what they mean to do, but we’ll go back downstairs and see if we can find out. There are sure to be more men coming after water.” She glanced up the hill toward the redoubt. Only a few figures moved about it now, but clouds of dust rose everywhere, thrown up by the impact of cannon balls, and the smoke from the guns themselves drifted that way. At that moment a handful of men appeared on the top of Bunker Hill, coming from the direction of the Neck. More men followed them, and still more. In orderly fashion they marched toward the redoubt where they were greeted with a faint cheering.
“Looks like more of our lads had come to help,” said Gran, as she led them down the narrow stairs and into the taproom. Just as she had suspected, three water carriers waited there, and all the pails and tubs were empty.
“Gran,” whispered Sally Rose, “I—I just don’t think I can turn that windlass any more.”
Gran looked at her keenly. “It makes the arms ache, I know,” she said with surprising sympathy. “Kitty, you go to the well for a while, and let Sally Rose carry the buckets.”
And thus their morning chores began all over again, though it was already early afternoon.
At the end of her third trip between well and taproom, Sally Rose stopped to talk to Kitty in one of the rare intervals when no gun was going off.
“Kit,” she said wanly, “I—I’m frightened, Kit. Do you think Gerry’s coming in one of those barges? Do you think he’ll have to shoot at our lads on the Hill? Do you think he might shoot at me?”
Kitty had been wondering almost the same thing, but she would not tell her cousin so.