CHAPTER III

CAUGHT BY THE TIDE

It is a nigh impossible task on the memory to trace those influences by which a lad is led to form his life’s opinions, and for my part I hold that such things are bred into the bone, and that events only serve to strengthen them.  In this way only can I account for my bitterness, at a very early age, against that King whom my seeming environment should have made me love.  For my grandfather was as stanch a royalist as ever held a cup to majesty’s health.  And children are most apt before they can reason for themselves to take the note from those of their elders who surround them.  It is true that many of Mr. Carvel’s guests were of the opposite persuasion from him:  Mr. Chase and Mr. Carroll, Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley, and many others, including our friend Captain Clapsaddle.  And these gentlemen were frequently in argument, but political discussion is Greek to a lad.

Mr. Carvel, as I have said, was most of his life a member of the Council, a man from whom both Governor Sharpe and Governor Eden were glad to take advice because of his temperate judgment and deep knowledge of the people of the province.  At times, when his Council was scattered, Governor Sharpe would consult Mr. Carvel alone, and often have I known my grandfather to embark in haste from the Hall in response to a call from his Excellency.

’Twas in the latter part of August, in the year 1765, made memorable by the Stamp Act, that I first came in touch with the deep-set feelings of the times then beginning, and I count from that year the awakening of the sympathy which determined my career.  One sultry day I was wading in the shallows after crabs, when the Governor’s messenger came drifting in, all impatience at the lack of wind.  He ran to the house to seek Mr. Carvel, and I after him, with all a boy’s curiosity, as fast as my small legs would carry me.  My grandfather hurried out to order his barge to be got ready at once, so that I knew something important was at hand.  At first he refused me permission to go, but afterwards relented, and about eleven in the morning we pulled away strongly, the ten blacks bending to the oars as if their lives were at stake.

A wind arose before we sighted Greensbury Point, and I saw a bark sailing in, but thought nothing of this until Mr. Carvel, who had been silent and preoccupied, called for his glass and swept her decks.  She soon shortened sail, and went so leisurely that presently our light barge drew alongside, and I perceived Mr. Zachariah Hood, a merchant of the town, returning from London, hanging over her rail.  Mr. Hood was very pale in spite of his sea-voyage; he flung up his cap at our boat, but Mr. Carvel’s salute in return was colder than he looked for.  As we came in view of the dock, a fine rain was setting in, and to my astonishment I beheld such a mass of people assembled as I had never seen, and scarce standing-room