The tap-room and parlors of the inn were occupied every evening at this time by the men of Westminster, and by certain visitors who had, for some days, been gathering for the meeting of the General Court. And all these visitors were not attorneys, or plaintiffs and defendants in the several cases which would come up for hearing before their Worships the justices. The sheriff was already at Westminster and there were more armed men about the town than had ever been seen there before at one time. Until the closing hour earnest discussions were carried on in the inn, for although the Royal, or “Norton’s house” as it was called, was the headquarters of the Tories, many Whigs frequented it, too. Naturally, the young men and half-grown boys wished to listen on the outskirts of these groups, and Lot Breckenridge was desirous of hearing all that went on. Enoch went with him to the inn rather against his will. Mistress Harding did not approve of such places for youths and Enoch had not grown so old or so big as to wish to disobey his mother, or even to believe that she was less able to guide him than she had formerly been.
The inn was well filled, indeed, that night and Master Norton was bustling about from group to group, dropping a word here and another there, determined to keep all his guests pleased as maybe; for despite his Tory principles, the innkeeper was first for his own pocket and would not antagonize any man knowingly. Mine Host was particularly attentive to a party of ten or a dozen gentlemen who, having eaten, now sat grouped before one of the fires engaged in earnest, and somewhat noisy, conversation. The figure of the sheriff was the centre of this group.
Lot and Enoch stood with other young men within ear-shot and heard many remarks which plainly showed the affiliation of the sheriff and his friends to the Tory cause; and the party had dined so well that they were not particularly careful to modulate their voices so that others in the vicinity who might be of a different mind, should not overhear them. The sheriff was a pompous man who, when he spoke, commanded the attention of all about him. The dignity of his office rode him hard and his companions deferred to him almost servilely, for at that day such an officer was held in great reverence, especially by the King’s adherents.
“These malcontents who would question the right of the King to govern them, should be punished, every man Jack of them!” the sheriff declared, looking about fiercely at his auditors. “I care not who they are, nor how high they stand. That Dr. Warren and Mr. Otis of Boston are gentlemen of education and position I grant ye; but they should feel the heavy hand of the law nevertheless–yes, sir! And some of these fellows who have gone to Philadelphia and are making such a rumpus there–they should be taught their place!”
“That they should, Master Sheriff!” cried one of his supporters.
“The King’s men treated that Otis just right some months back,” growled another–a man who sat back in the shadow of the high mantel and wore a cloak, the high collar of which half muffled his face. At the speech of this one Enoch, who had been dragging at the sleeve of his companion to get him away, ceased this and pushed forward himself. Something in the tone of the last speaker’s voice had attracted his attention and he strove to see his features.
“They should be whipped–every man Jack of them!” cried the sheriff, repeating his favorite expression.
“Better let Ethan Allen and his boys beech-seal them, eh, Sir Sheriff?” cried some Whig on the outskirts of the group, and a laugh was raised among those of like feeling.
“We shall settle that villain Allen–we shall settle him, sir!” declared the sheriff, angrily. “The Honorable Court will punish these fellows who retain their lands without proper authority from the King and our Governor. There will be an overturn in these Grants ere long–mark my word, sir!”
“The dogs should be driven back to Massachusetts and Connecticut–where they came from,” growled the man with the cloak.