Yet that was the way people lived in 1775 when the Revolution began. It took weeks for news to travel then, where it takes seconds now. Thus the fight at Lexington, which began the Revolution, took place on April 19th, but it was May 9th, more than half a month later, before the news of it reached the little town of Machias, on the coast of Maine. We should hardly call that fast time. It must have taken several naps on the way.
But when the news came, it found the people ready for it. A coasting schooner put into the port and brought the story of how the patriots had fought and bled at Lexington and Concord, and of how the British were shut up in Boston town, and the country was at war. The news was received with ringing cheers.
If any of my readers had been at Machias that day I know they would have felt like striking a blow for liberty. At any rate, that is how the people of Machias felt, and it did not take them long to show it.
They had some reason not to like the King and his men. All the tall, straight trees in their woods were kept to make masts for the King's ships, and no woodman dared set axe to one of these pine trees except at risk of going to prison. Just then there were two sloops in their harbor loading with ship-timber, and an armored schooner, the Margaretta, was there as a good looker-on.
When the men on the wharf heard the story of Lexington, their eyes fell on the Margaretta. Here was a chance to let King George know what they thought about his robbing their woods.
"Keep this a secret," they said to the sailors. "Not a word of it to Captain Moore or his men. Wait till to-morrow and you will see some sport."
That night sixty of the countrymen and townsmen met at a farmhouse nearby and laid their plans. It was Saturday. On Sunday Captain Moore and his officers would go to church. Then they could gather at the wharf and might take the schooner by surprise.
But it is often easier to make a plot than to keep it a secret, and that lesson they were to learn. The captain and his officers went to the little village church at sound of the morning bell; the Margaretta lay lazily floating near the shore; and the plotters began to gather, two or three at a time strolling down towards the shore, each of them carrying some weapon.
But in some way Captain Moore discovered their purpose. What bird in the air whispered to him the secret we do not know, but he suddenly sprang to his feet, called to his officers to follow him, and leaped like a cat through the church window, without waiting to go round by the door. We may be sure the old-fashioned preacher and the pious people in the pews looked on with wide-open eyes.
Down the street like a deer sped the captain. After him came his officers. In their rear rushed the patriots, some carrying old muskets, some with scythes and reaping-hooks.