ears of
Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight
soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They
marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd,
and pricking the townspeople with their bayonets.

A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards general of the American
artillery) caught Captain Preston's arm.

"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, "take heed what you do, or there
will be bloodshed."

"Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston, haughtily. "Do not interfere,
sir. Leave me to manage the affair."

Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a
semicircle, with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the Custom
House. When the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening
attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their rage became almost
uncontrollable.

"Fire, you lobsterbacks!" bellowed some.

"You dare not fire, you cowardly redcoats!" cried others.

"Rush upon them!" shouted many voices. "Drive the rascals to their
barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire if they dare!"

Amid the uproar, the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the
fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood.

Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment, the angry
feelings between England and America might have been pacified. England
had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and acknowledge that
she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. Then
the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together as
firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty, which had grown as strong
as instinct, was not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the victories
won, in the old French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought
side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten
yet. England was still that beloved country which the colonists called
their home. King George, though he had frowned upon America, was still
reverenced as a father.

But should the king's soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it
was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied
until she had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in the dust.

"Fire, if you dare, villains!" hoarsely shouted the people, while the
muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them. "You dare not fire!"

They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled bayonets.