Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes

Author:Esther Hoskins Forbes [Forbes, Esther Hoskins]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Juvenile Fiction, Classics
ISBN: 9780547528380
Publisher: Sandpiper
Published: 1998-10-26T00:09:36+00:00

VII. The Fiddler's Bill

BUT when that bill came—the fiddler's bill—that bill for the tea, it was so much heavier than anyone expected, Boston was thrown into a paroxysm of anger and despair. There had been many a moderate man who had thought the Tea Party a bit lawless and was now ready to vote payment for the tea. But when these men heard how cruelly the Town was to be punished, they swore it would never be paid for. And those other thirteen colonies. Up to this time many of them had had little interest in Boston's struggles. Now they were united as never before. The punishment united the often jealous, often indifferent, separate colonies, as the Tea Party itself had not.

Sam Adams was so happy his hands shook worse than ever.

For it had been voted in far-off London that the port of Boston should be closed—not one ship might enter, not one ship might leave the port, except only His Majesty's warships and transports, until the tea was paid for. Boston was to be starved into submission.

On that day, that first of June, 1774, Johnny and Rab, like almost all the other citizens, did no work, but wandered from place to place over the town. People were standing inangry knots talking, gesticulating, swearing that yes, they would starve, they would go down to ruin rather than give in now. Even many of the Tories were talking like that, for the punishment fell equally heavily upon the King's most loyal subjects in Boston and on the very 'Indians' who had tossed the tea overboard. This closing of the port of Boston was indeed tyranny; this was oppression; this was the last straw upon the back of many a moderate man.

The boys strolled the waterfront. Here on Long Wharf, merchants' counting houses were closed and shuttered, sail lofts deserted, the riggers and porters stood idle. Overnight, hundreds of such, and sailors and ropemakers, wharfingers and dock hands, had been thrown out of work. The great ships of Boston which had been bringing wealth for over a hundred years were idle at their berths. Not one might come and go.

At first it was the men of the ships and wharves that were thrown out of work and could not get food for their families. The paralysis that started there would soon spread out and include everybody. For who now could buy new clothes? The clothiers and tailors would close shop. Not one man in Boston could afford a silver basin. The silversmiths would not last long. Nobody could pay rent. The wealthy landowners were headed for bankruptcy.

'So,' said Rab cheerfully, 'looks like we'd all starve together.'

They stood at the very end of Long Wharf which ran a half-mile out into the harbor. They could see the Captain, British flagship, stationed between Long and Hancock's Wharf, and over by Governor's Island, the Lively, and beyond, the Mercury, the Magdalen, the Tartar. His Majesty's fleet surrounded Boston, enforcing the Port Act.

'Uncle Lorne is upset. He says the printers will not be able to go on with the newspapers.

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