THE MOHAWKS AND THEIR TEA-PARTY.

On the evening of October 29, 1773, the Sons of Liberty again assembled at the Green Dragon.  A ship had dropped anchor during the day off Castle William, bringing the news that Parliament had passed a law taxing tea.  Ever watchful for the welfare of the people, they came together to hear what the London newspapers and their friends in England had to say about it, in letters which Samuel Adams had received.  The night being cool, the landlord lighted a fire to warm the room, and enable those who might like a mug of flip to heat the loggerhead in the glowing coals.  Upon the table, as usual, were the punch-bowl, crackers, cheese, tobacco, and pipes.  Mr. Adams seated himself by the table and opened a letter.

“It is from Mr. Benjamin Franklin,” he said, “who writes that Parliament has passed a law levying three pence per pound on tea.  It is not to be collected here, as on other articles, but the merchant who ships it is to pay the duty.  It is a very adroit attempt to collect revenue.  The consignees in the Colonies, of course, will add the amount in their sales, and so the revenue will be collected without any agency on the part of the Custom Houses.”

“I suppose,” said Doctor Warren, “Lord North and the whole British nation think we are such simpletons, we shall not see the cat in the meal.”

“It is an insidious act,” Mr. Adams resumed, “intended to undermine the political virtue of the people.  Two years ago our wives and daughters exhibited their allegiance to lofty principles by signing an agreement not to drink tea until the obnoxious laws then existing were repealed.  Lord North laughed at the time, but he has discovered that the people of the Colonies can be loyal to a great principle.  The East India Company’s receipts have fallen off at the rate of five hundred thousand pounds value per annum.  The company has seventeen million pounds of tea stored in London, intended for the Colonies, and for which there is no market.  It owes the government a vast sum.  The merchants who have grown rich out of their profits in the past are not receiving any dividends.  The shares of the company, which a few months ago were quoted at high rates, have become unsalable.  Parliament has repealed the obnoxious laws for taxing the Colonies, and passed this act, doubtless thinking that, so long as we do not pay it directly into the Custom House, we shall acquiesce and go to drinking tea again.  And there is where the danger lies.  We have been so true to our convictions the revenue received from its sale last year in all the Colonies was only fifteen hundred pounds.  It is very humiliating to the king and ministry to turn to the other side of the ledger and find that it has cost several hundred thousand pounds to maintain the troops sent to the Colonies to aid in enforcing the revenue laws upon a reluctant people.  This new act, by having all the customs machinery in England, will have a tendency to seduce the people from their allegiance to a great principle.  How to thwart the plans of the ministry is the all-important question for us to consider.  Mr. Franklin writes that several vessels are soon to leave London for different colonial ports-­three of them for Boston.”

“There is an old song,” said Doctor Warren, “about a crafty old spider inviting a silly little fly into his parlor.  I don’t believe the fly will accept the invitation this time.”

“The consignees,” said Mr. Adams, “are Elisha and Thomas Hutchinson, the governor’s two sons; Richard Clark and sons, Benjamin Faneuil, Junior, and Joshua Winslow,-­all honorable merchants; but their sympathies, as we know, are not with the people.  If we allow the tea to be landed, I fear the consequences.  We must not permit the levying of a tax, without our consent, in any form.”

“I move,” said John Rowe, “that we do not permit the landing of any tea.”

The meeting voted to adopt the motion.  The formal business ended, they refilled their pipes, helped themselves to crackers and cheese, punch and flip.

Berinthia Brandon, the following week, could not understand why Tom wanted Dinah to make him a pot of paste; nor why he was out so late at night,-­not getting home till three o’clock in the morning.  None of the watchmen, going their rounds, saw anybody pasting handbills on the walls of the houses, but everybody saw the bills in the morning.

     TO THE FREEMEN OF THIS AND NEIGHBORING TOWNS.

GENTLEMEN,-­You are desired to meet at Liberty Tree, this day at twelve o’clock noon, then and there to hear the persons to whom the tea shipped by the East India Company is consigned make a public resignation of their office on oath as consignees; and also swear that they will reship any tea that may be consigned to them by said company, by the first vessel sailing for London.

               O. C.
               Secretary.

     BOSTON, NO, 1773.

     Show us the man that dare take this down!!!!!

Early in the morning the town crier was jingling his bell and calling upon the people to be at the Liberty Tree at the appointed hour.  Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Doctor Warren, and William Molineux were there, and a great crowd.  The consignees were assembled in Richard Clark’s store.  The people voted to choose a committee to inform them that, if they did not resign or pledge themselves not to land the tea, they would be regarded as the enemies of their country.  William Molineux, Doctor Warren, and six others were chosen.

A great crowd accompanied the committee.  Governor Hutchinson, looking out upon them from the window of the council chamber, saw that they were the foremost men of Boston.  The consignees were in Richard Clark’s store, and the door was locked.

“From whom are you a committee,” asked Clark, opening a window.

“From the whole people.”

“I shall have nothing to do with you.”

“Then you will be regarded as an enemy of your country,” replied Molineux.

“Out with them!” cried somebody.

“Hold on.  Don’t let us make fools of ourselves,” said Tom Brandon.

There was a murmuring in the crowd.

“In the king’s name, I command you to disperse,” said the sheriff, stepping forward.

It was not he, however, but Doctor Warren, who, by a wave of his hand, stilled the people, and persuaded them to depart.

On Sunday morning, November 29, Tom Brandon, looking with the telescope, saw a ship at Nantasket, and knew by the signals that it was the Dartmouth, Captain Hall.  When meeting was over at noon, he called upon Doctor Warren and found him writing a circular to be sent to the surrounding towns, asking the people to assemble on Monday morning in Faneuil Hall.  Tom took the writing to the printing office of Edes & Gill in Queen Street, and a printer quickly put it in type.  On Monday morning the people of Boston, Charlestown, Cambridge, and all surrounding towns were reading it.

     FRIENDS!  COUNTRYMEN!  BROTHERS!

The worst of plagues, the detested tea, shipped for this port by the East India Company, has arrived.  The hour of destruction or manly opposition to the machinations of tyranny stares you in the face.  Every friend to his country, to himself, and posterity is now called upon to meet at Faneuil Hall at nine o’clock this day, at which time the bells will ring, to make a united resistance to this last, worst, and most destructive measure of administration!

     BOSTON, NO, 1773.

The bells rang.  The people surged into Faneuil Hall.  There was a crowd in the square around the building,-­so many people that they adjourned to the Old South Meetinghouse, where they voted that the tea must go back to England, and that twenty-five men should keep watch day and night, to prevent its being landed.  The meeting adjourned till Tuesday morning to hear what the consignees would do.

Through the night Abraham Duncan and the other watchmen patrolled the wharves.  The Dartmouth had sailed up the harbor and was riding at anchor.

A great crowd filled the meetinghouse at nine o’clock Tuesday.  The moderator read a letter from Richard Clark and the other consignees, who said they could not send the tea back, but would put it in their stores till they could hear from the East India Company.

“No! no! no!” shouted the people, who were more than ever determined that it should not be landed.

Tom saw the sheriff, with his sword by his side, as the emblem of authority, enter the meetinghouse, with a paper in his hand.

“It is from his excellency, the governor,” said the sheriff, bowing to the moderator.

“We don’t want to hear it,” shouted the people.

“We are assembled in orderly town meeting.  I think we had better hear what the governor has to communicate,” said Samuel Adams, and the great audience became silent.  Tom’s blood began to boil as the sheriff read:-

“You are openly violating, defying, and setting at nought the good and wholesome laws of the Province under which you live.  I warn you, exhort, and require each of you, thus unlawfully assembled, forthwith to disperse, and to surcease all further unlawful proceedings at your utmost peril.”

Tom, and all around him hissed.

“We won’t disperse till we’ve done our business,” shouted a man in the centre of the house.

“We will attend to our affairs, and Tommy Hutchinson may mind his own business,” cried another.

“Let us hear from Mr. Rotch,” the shout.

Mr. Rotch, a young merchant, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, and who owned the Dartmouth, rose.

“I am willing the tea should go back without being landed,” he said.

The people clapped their hands.

“Hall!  Hall!  Let us hear from Captain Hall,” they cried.

The captain of the Dartmouth, sunburned by exposure, said it made no difference to him.  He would just as soon carry the tea back as anything else.  Once more the people decided the tea should not be brought on shore.  To prevent its being landed it was voted that the watch should be maintained; that if the attempt was made by day, the meetinghouse bells would ring, if by night, they were to toll.

A few days later, the Beaver, commanded by Captain Coffin, and the Elenor, commanded by Captain Bruce, arrived.  Tom, once more looking down the harbor, saw the warship Kingfisher drop down below the Castle and anchor in the channel; also the Active.  He understood the meaning of the movement-­that the governor did not intend the ships should depart with the tea on board.  He knew things would soon come to a head, for under the law, unless a vessel discharged its cargo within twenty days after arriving in port, the ship and cargo would be confiscated.  Once more the people assembled, electing Thomas Savage moderator, and passing a vote directing Mr. Rotch to ask the collector to clear the Dartmouth for London.

Rain was falling, and the wind east, rolling the waves into the harbor, on the morning of December 16.  Unmindful of the storm, people from Boston and all the surrounding towns were gathering in the Old South Meetinghouse.  Little did the farthest sighted among them comprehend that the fullness of time had come for the opening of a mighty drama; that the bell up in the tower was heralding the beginning of a new era in human government.

Tom and Abraham found seats in the gallery.  After prayer, Samuel Adams said the committee appointed at a previous meeting had called upon the collector, with Mr. Rotch, asking him to clear the Dartmouth, but the request was not granted.

“We all know,” he continued, “that the twenty days will expire at twelve o’clock to-night.  After that hour the Dartmouth will be moored under the guns of Admiral Montague’s warships, and will be taken possession of by a party of marines.  I therefore move that Mr. Rotch be directed to enter his protest at the Custom House, and that he be further directed by this meeting to apply to Governor Hutchinson for a permit that shall allow the Dartmouth to pass the Castle and sail for London.”

“All in favor of that motion will say aye,” said the moderator.

“Aye!” thundered the floor, galleries, aisles, and pulpit stairs.

“All opposed will say no.”

The silence was so profound that Tom could hear his heart beat.

“This meeting stands adjourned to three o’clock,” said the moderator, and the great crowd thereupon surged into the streets.  Some went to the Cromwell’s Head; others to the Bunch of Grapes, White Lamb, Tun and Bacchus, drank mugs of flip, and warmed themselves by the bright wood-fires blazing on the hearths.  The meeting had adjourned to give Mr. Rotch time to jump into his chaise and ride out to Milton to see Governor Hutchinson.

Tom and Abraham walked towards the Cromwell’s Head.  They were surprised and delighted to meet Roger Stanley.

“I didn’t hear of the meeting till last evening,” said Roger, “and I have come in to see what is going on.”

The rain had drenched his clothes.

“See here, Roger, you are wet to the skin; you must have some toddy.  Come along, I’ll stand treat,” said Tom.

They entered the Cromwell’s Head, and each took a glass of flip, then made their way to the Long Room in Queen Street.  Climbing the stairs, Tom rapped on a door.  A moment later a panel opened, and a nose, mouth, and eyes appeared.  Tom gave another rap which the nose, mouth, and eyes seemed to understand, for the door opened, and they passed in and it closed behind them.

Several of the Sons of Liberty were already there.  Some were smoking pipes, others sipping mugs of hot punch.  Edward Preston was sitting at a table writing.

“The sachem has just finished his proclamation, and is going to read it,” said Henry Purkett.

The room became still, and Preston read what he had written.

     ABRANT KAN-AK-AR-A-TOPH-QUA, CHIEF SACHEM OF THE MOHAWKS,
     KING OF THE SIX NATIONS AND LORD OF ALL THEIR CASTLES, ETC.,
     ETC., TO ALL LIEGE SUBJECTS.  HEALTH.

WHEREAS, tea is an Indian Plant and of right belongs to the Indians of every land and tribe; and whereas, our good allies, the English, have in lieu of it given us that pernicious liquor, Rum, which they have poured down our throats to steal away our brains; and whereas, the English have learned the most expeditious way or method of drawing an infusion of said Tea, without the expense of wood or trouble of fire, to the benefit and emolument of the East India trade, and, as vastly greater quantities may be used by that method than by that heretofore practiced in this country, and therefore help to support the East India Company under the present melancholy circumstances: 

THEREFORE, we of our certain knowledge, special grace, and mere motion will permit or allow any of our liege subjects to barter, buy, or procure of any of our English allies, Teas of any kind:  provided always each man can purchase not less than ten nor more than one hundred and fourteen boxes at a time and those the property of the East India Company; and provided also that they pour the same into the lakes, rivers, and ponds, that, while our subjects in their hunting, instead of slaking their thirst with cold water, they may do it with tea.

     Of all which our subjects will take notice and govern
     themselves accordingly.  By command,

TO-NE-TER-A-QUE.

“Attention, braves,” said the sachem.  “Each subject will provide himself with a tomahawk and be at the wigwam one hour after candle-lighting to-night, prepared to carry out the proclamation.  The tribe will remember that the Mohawks do not talk much, but do in silence what they have to do.”

They heard the proclamation in silence, and one by one took their departure.  Roger said he would be in the Old South Meetinghouse at three o’clock to hear the result of the visit of Mr. Rotch to Governor Hutchinson.

“I doubt if I shall be there; I may have an engagement early in the evening,” said Tom.

Abraham Duncan said the same.

“I went down to the shipyard this morning and got two tomahawks.  They are in my chamber, together with the feathers and war-paint and the other things.  Come round early, Abe,” said Tom as they parted.

Again at three o’clock a great crowd filled the meetinghouse.  The clouds had rolled away, and the setting sun was throwing its beams upon the gilded weather-vane when Roger Stanley entered the building.  It was so full that he could only stand in one of the aisles.  The moderator was reading letters from the selectmen of the surrounding towns, saying that they would stand by Boston in whatever might be done to prevent the landing of the tea.

“Their letters,” said William Molineux, rising in one of the front pews, “are all very well; they show the determined spirit of our fellow-citizens; but we must have a committee whose duty it shall be to prevent the landing of the tea.  I move the appointment of such a committee.”

The meeting voted that a committee should be appointed.

The evening shades were falling and the housewives lighting their candles.  In the Brandon house Tom and Abraham were putting on Indian uniforms which Mr. Brandon years before brought home from the tribes along the shores of the St. Lawrence-­buckskin breeches and coats, fur caps trimmed with eagle’s feathers.  Tom tripped upstairs to the garret, and returned with a bunch of garget berries, with which they stained their faces and hands.

“You look just like Indians,” said Berinthia.

“Say nothing to nobody as to what you have seen, ’Rinth,” said Tom, as he closed the door and walked with Abraham rapidly along the street.

In the Old South Meetinghouse Josiah Quincy was speaking.  The sexton brought in two tallow candles and placed them on the table before the moderator.  There was a stir at the door-­a commotion-­a turning of necks in the pews, as the young merchant, Mr. Rotch, entered the building.  Many in the audience thought he had been lukewarm in his desire to have the tea sent back to London, and were ready to hiss at him.

“Let us be just,” said Doctor Young.  “Let no one utter a word against our fellow-citizen.  He is doing all it is possible for him to do to have the detested tea sent back.”

The murmuring ceased as Samuel Adams addressed him:-

“Will you, Mr. Rotch, send the Dartmouth back to London with the tea on board?”

“Were I to make the attempt in compliance with the request of the people it would be my ruin.”

Roger and all around him saw what they had not seen before, that were he to make the effort his ship would be seized and himself arrested, and in all probability sent to England to be tried for treason.

“Who knows how tea will mix with salt water?” shouted John Rowe.

“Let us treat the fishes to a cup of tea,” shouted another, and the windows rattled with their stamping.

“Whoop!  Whoop!  Whoop!”

It was a yell from the street.

“Let the meeting be in order.  It is a trick of our enemies to distract us,” shouted some one.

“Order, gentlemen!” cried the moderator.

“Whoop!  Whoop!  Whoop!”

Longer and louder the yell.

“The Mohawks! the Mohawks!” the cry at the door.

Those in the galleries left their seats and hastened down the stairs.  People were rising in the pews and crowding the aisles.

“This meeting can do no more,” said Mr. Adams, and he declared it adjourned.

The people saw forty or fifty Indians who had suddenly appeared upon the street.  Where they came from no one knew, but they were rapidly making their way to Griffin’s Wharf where the ships were lying.  Roger Stanley and a great number of citizens followed them.  The sentinels with muskets on their shoulders, keeping watch over the ships, made no effort to stop the Mohawks.  Roger saw the ship Dartmouth alongside the wharf and the Elenor and Beaver a little distance from it.  The chief leaped on board the Dartmouth.  The captain was on the quarter-deck; the crew huddled at the bow were astonished to see Indians with tomahawks climbing over the sides of the vessel.

“The Mohawks will unload your tea.  Please direct your men to open the hatches and then order them below into the forecastle,” said the chief, addressing the captain.  “You will retire to your cabin.  The Mohawks will not injure your ship or do you any harm.”

It was spoken resolutely and in such good English that the captain understood every word.  The sailors lifted the hatches, provided hoisting tackle, and disappeared down the forward hatchway, and the captain retired to his cabin.  Roger saw an Indian run up the shrouds by the mainmast and hitch a tackle.  He thought the savage had some resemblance to Tom Brandon.  He also saw by the light of the moon, near its first quarter, that while one party of savages were at work upon the Dartmouth, others were warping the Elenor and the Beaver to the dock.  It was nearly low tide, and the waves were swashing the timbers beneath the wharf.  Not far away lay the Romney with her cannon peeping from the portholes.  Very quietly the Mohawks began their work, hoisting chests from the hold, cutting them with hatchets, pouring the contents over the sides of the vessels.  Roger felt a desire to take part in the work.  Running to a blacksmith’s shop, he smeared his face and hands with charcoal, took off his coat, turned it inside out, put it on, leaped on board the ship, seized a hatchet, smashed the chests, and tumbled them overboard.  The Indians worked in silence.  The clock was striking ten when the last chest was thrown into the dock.  Their work finished, the chief rapped upon the cabin door, and the captain opened it.

“We have discharged your tea, captain, but we have disturbed nothing else.  If we have we will cheerfully pay the damage.”

The captain thanked him for being so considerate.

Tom, Abraham, and Roger, and the other Indians, walked up the street past the house of Nathaniel Coffin, his majesty’s receiver-general.  His eldest son, Isaac, one of Tom’s schoolmates, had just sailed for England, Admiral Montague having obtained a commission for him in the king’s navy, but John, the younger brother, was at home.

Admiral Montague was there standing by an open window.

“Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for your Indian caper; but don’t forget, you will have to pay the fiddler by and by.”

“Oh, never mind, admiral, we are ready to pay him now,” Tom replied.

The other Indians laughed as the admiral closed the window and turned away.

Very quietly the Mohawks separated.  Abraham went to his own house, Roger went with Tom.  They were soon in their chamber washing the garget stains and charcoal from their faces and hands.

“Rat-a-tat-tat!” went the knocker on the door.

They heard feet tripping over the stairs and then Berinthia’s voice.  “Oh, Tom, the officers are at the door.  Put out your light.  Let me have your Indian clothes.  Get to bed, quick.”

Tom raised the window, emptied the water from the bowl into the alley behind the house, handed his Indian suit to Berinthia, put out the light, and jumped into bed.  Captain Brandon was not at home, having gone to Maine to obtain timber for the building of a ship.  Berinthia returned to her room, lifted the sheets and blankets, tucked Tom’s suit safely away between the feather bed and the straw mattress beneath it.

“Rat-a-tat-tat!  Rat-a-tat-tat!” went the knocker, louder than before.  Tom heard Berinthia’s window open.

“Who’s there, and what is wanted?” It was Berinthia speaking.

“Is Captain Brandon at home?” asked one of the men at the door.

“He is not.  He is in Maine.”

“We want to search your house.”

“Why do you wish to search it?”

“An outrage has been committed, and we believe that his son had a hand in it!”

“My brother is in bed, and a friend is spending the night with him; but I will go and tell him.”

Several minutes passed before Tom could strike a light with the tinder-box, put on his clothes, and get to the door.  Before descending the stairs he looked in the glass to see that the stains had been wholly removed from his face, and examined the floor to ascertain that no tea-leaves had been dropped from their clothing.  He then descended the stairs and opened the door.

“Good-evening.  What is it you wish?” he said.

“You are Tom Brandon, are you not?” asked one of the officers.

“That is my name.”

“It is believed, Mr. Brandon, that you were one of the party who poured the tea into the harbor this evening, and we have come to search for evidence.”

“Come right in, gentlemen.”

The officers stepped into the hall.

“This is the parlor, here is the sitting-room, and beyond it is the pantry.  I don’t think you will find much tea, for we quit drinking it three years ago, and haven’t had any since,” said Tom.

“Shall we see your chamber, Mr. Brandon?”

“Certainly; you will find my old schoolmate, Roger Stanley of Concord, in bed, but he won’t mind.”

They climbed the stairs, entered the chamber, asked Mr. Stanley’s pardon for intruding, took a look at the washbowl, opened a clothespress, got down on their knees and looked at the floor, to see if they could find any tea.

“Here is another chamber, my sister’s; she spoke to you from the window.  You will hardly think of entering the room till she has had time to put on her dress.”

“Oh, no; we would not be so rude as to enter her chamber.  We do not suppose she had anything to do with it,” said the officers.

“Will you not take a look at the garret?” Tom asked.

“No.  You have covered your tracks so well, I do not suppose we should find anything.”

“Thank you.  If, as you say, I had a hand in it, I regard it quite a compliment that I have covered my tracks so well,” Tom replied, as the officers took their departure.  He went upstairs and opened the door to Berinthia’s chamber a little.

“’Rinth, you are the best girl that ever lived,” he said.

“Oh, Tom, you did that splendidly,” she replied.

There was merry laughter from her lips as he closed the door and returned to his chamber.