April Morning by Howard Fast Page B

settlement of all the points of dispute.” Yet here was a rider telling us that a British army was coming.
    â€œNow just one thing,” my father was saying to him, “just one thing—what time did they start?”
    â€œI told you they were getting into the boats to cross the Charles at ten o’clock.”
    â€œThat’s three hours ago. Did you wait until they crossed the river? How long did it take them?”
    â€œI waited until the first of them set onto dry land, I did—and they were forming up on the Menotomy Road. We just decided not to wait any longer.”
    â€œWell, what time was it then?” Parker demanded.
    â€œHeavens to Holland, mister—what did you expect us to do? Build a fire so as we could read our clocks? All they had to do was catch sight of us, and that would be the end of any hope of my being here.”
    â€œThen you don’t know what time they got across the river?”
    â€œWell, just how long does it take an army to cross a river, mister?”
    â€œThat’s what we’re asking you,” my father said with unusual patience.
    â€œAnd I don’t know—which is what I’m telling you.”
    â€œDid you come straight here?” the Reverend asked.
    â€œBy the Lord, I did, hell for leather—and I like to broke my neck on that pitch-black road. I’m here, ain’t I? But I can’t sit here all night. There was four of us, and one took off for Medford and another for Brookline and the third down to Watertown. You see, the meaning of it was that, one road or another, they’d be going to Concord where the stores are. Someone played the dirty rat and informed that the Committees were stashing away whatever they could put their hands on at Concord, so however they’re coming, you can believe me that Concord is where they’re headed at.”
    â€œBut they wouldn’t need an army for that,” my father protested. “They wouldn’t need an army just to confiscate the supplies at Concord.”
    â€œDon’t argue with me, mister, please.”
    â€œOnly how many troops?” Parker insisted. “Don’t you see that we’ve got to know?”
    â€œMister, it was nighttime and we were hiding. Did you want me to count them?”
    â€œA thousand—two thousand?”
    â€œA thousand at least. Maybe two thousand, maybe more. They had a line of boats stretching across the river, and every boat packed full of redcoat soldiers. That’s all I know—Now, make way for me. Let go of my reins, mister.”
    The crowd opened up for him, and he spurred his horse. He was a good rider, but wild and careless. He saw the common rail at the last minute and jumped it, sailed over it light as a feather, and then rode hallooing and shouting down the highway toward Concord.
    After the rider had departed, the common showed signs of becoming the liveliest debating area in all New England. The central argument involved the Committeemen and the militia officers and the Reverend, who was torn between the Committee and the militia on one hand and God and the church on the other. The secondary arguments involved the male citizens who supported one faction or another. The final arguments were mostly between mothers and their children, involving the chill of the night air, the general lack of decent attire, and the effects of the loss of sleep. Along with these three major areas of dispute, there were many subareas where tempers ran high, individual duels between man and wife, mother and daughter, father and son—all of it adding up to the briskest night scene I recollect in all my life. A dozen sputtering pine torches lit up the scene and gave it quality.
    At the center of the dispute were four positions: Jonas Parker wanted an immediate muster of the militia. Since we had stored a hogshead of powder and another of lead shot in the cellar of Buckman’s Tavern, Parker suggested that as