The other men were holding their breaths as they looked on. Tom watched, too, but he felt a strange dizziness coming over him, so he went and clung to the rail.
At first nothing happened. Then it was as if the tow began to melt away. Ike held a larger piece of tow above the first one—a fluffed-out piece. Suddenly the fluff burst into open flame. Someone started to cheer and quickly choked the sound back. From the fluff, Ike lighted a still larger piece of tow and dropped that on the heap of bedding. The men watched, fascinated. First one little tongue of flame leaped up and then another. Then a tiny roaring sound began, growing louder every moment.
When he saw that there was a splendid bonfire a-going, Tom turned to the rail and hung weakly overside. He knew now that his trick had worked and the British schooner would soon be a seething mass of flame. Soon his comrades, their mission accomplished, would be leaping overside and swimming back to Chelsea Neck. When that time came, he knew, he would straighten himself up and go with them, but right now there was a rancid taste in his mouth and the smell of burning pitch in his nostrils. He’d had enough of pipe-smoking to last him a lifetime, and he didn’t feel very well—in fact, he didn’t feel well at all.
Chapter Nine
NO CLOUDS ON BUNKER HILL
“Never expected to see you keeping a public house, Ma’am Greenleaf—leastwise, not one with a strong drink license.”
Old Timothy Coffin’s voice had disapproval in it, Kitty thought, as she turned from the small oak bar where she was polishing glasses. The warm June sunshine struck through the diamond-shaped panes and lay in pools of light with rainbow edges on the sanded floor, on the worn tables and benches. A gentle breeze stirred the tall hollyhock stems outside the window. Sally Rose was weeding the hollyhocks—or supposed to be. Now that Gran had come to take charge, there was a task for everyone.
“You’re a-going to see a deal of things you never expected to see,” said Gran tartly. She was seated by the hearth shelling peas, while Timothy swept the tiles with a birch broom.
“Happen you’re right, Ma’am,” agreed the old man. “Never expected to see the King’s men shooting at us—and we going to meeting, praying for the King, all the while.”
“Yes, it’s a strange state of affairs, Timothy,” answered Gran. Her voice had turned suddenly thoughtful, and her fingers played idly with the empty pods as she stared through the open door at the empty house across the way.
Kitty looked at the empty house, too. Most of the houses in Charlestown were empty now, and scarcely any women left in the town at all. The men came back sometimes to cut hay and weed their gardens, but they had sent their families away to the inland towns, and swore they would leave them there till this fuss with the British soldiers was ended, one way or another.