For many years, our scholarly town-clerk, Mr. Daniel Witham, had headed every page of his records with "In the year of the reign of King George," flourished in painstaking Latin. In 1776, this custom was given up, and the town-meeting was called in the name of the government and people of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay, instead of in the name of the king. For, step by step, never faltering, our fathers kept pace with the march of Liberty.
June 24th, they voted unanimously that, if Congress should resolve upon the declaration of independence which that body was then considering, Gloucester citizens would support Congress in the measure with their lives and fortunes. When, ten days later, "the Declaration was proclaimed to the world, the immortal document was read from all the pulpits of Gloucester and copied into the records of the town."
Gloucester was fortunate indeed in having as the newly arrived pastor of the historic First-Parish Church the Reverend Eli Forbes, who had seen military life as soldier and chaplain and had labored among the Indians as missionary and teacher. So unsettled were the affairs of our people and so uncertain was the future of the town, that Mr. Forbes' prudent parishioners made the condition that, if the parish were broken up, they should not be obliged to pay him any salary. (The gifted pastor was, however, destined to serve his people for many years and his name remains in honor among us to this day.)
That summer, Washington saved the American army from capture. Leaving his campfires burning on Long Island, he had his troops, cannon, arms, ammunition, horses, and provisions, all ferried over the East River under cover of the darkness. The men who plied the oars so silently, swiftly, and steadily through that fateful August night were our own Gloucester fishermen. Our Marblehead neighbors had the honor of conveying the Commander-in-Chief and his army "across the storm-swept Delaware," through the floating ice at Christmas time.
Privateering was carried on more than ever, as was perfectly natural in a seafaring community. High hopes were set upon the fine new brig "Gloucester," which was built at Annisquam for that very purpose. She sailed in the summer of 1777, armed with 18 carriage guns and manned by 180 men. She sent in two prizes, each having some precious salt in its inkling. And then she was never heard of more ! By this one disaster, Gloucester had sixty more widows.
The "General Starks" was perhaps the most active of the Gloucester privateers. She carried 135 men and boys and mounted 18 guns. After various exploits too many to recount here, she was captured by the British ship "Chatham" and taken to Halifax. When our men were released from prison, they set sail for home in three cartels, as vessels used for exchanging prisoners were called. One cartel, which carried the, captain and other officers, was lost at sea. Another cartel put into Gloucester and set the men ashore at the town landing in the Harbor Cove. Nearly all of them were sick and some of the poor fellows were too weak to walk. A few had to crawl on hands and knees to get up the hill. The third cartel was caught in a violent snowstorm in Ipswich Bay. The captain did not know this part of the coast and all our Gloucester sailors were as sick as their comrades just mentioned. But Capt. William Allen called out from his berth, "If somebody will help me into the companion-way, I'll stand there and pilot the vessel. over Squam Bar." And there the tottering sick man stood and saved the vessel from wreck.
Battles, prison-ships, wrecks, and other results of the war claimed nearly 400 victims. One-sixth of the townspeople were de-pending almost wholly upon charity. Paper money was worth only one-seventieth of its original value. Salt was so scarce that works for making it were set up, as in the early days of the settlement. Grist-mills ceased to grind. It was not an unheard of thing for a woman to walk to Ipswich to get a peck of corn ground. Surely, Cape Ann wives and mothers knew the hardships of the Revolution!
And so the long years of misery wore away. But our people never gave up. They raised their quotas of soldiers, although it was harder and harder to get men for the army. They fulfilled every demand made upon them, if it could possibly be supplied. If it could not, they sent a memorial to the General Court and explained why the request could not be granted. Once they asked the Court to send an agent to see how very poor the people had become.
As the end of the war drew near, our fathers watched the Massachusetts Legislature and Congress to be sure that an article to preserve their ancient privileges on the fishing grounds was contained in the peace treaty. Such an article "is of the utmost con-sequence," they declared in town-meeting, "not only to this town, but to the State in general."
October 22, 1783, there was as much rejoicing in Gloucester hearts as on November 11, 1918. Peace news was brought by the ship "Robin Hood," just in from London. Liberty and independence were secure! There were no steam whistles to shriek the joyful tidings ; the beacon on Governor's Hill had been used to flare warn-ing on the approach of an enemy. Instead, the happy townsfolk illuminated an aged oak tree that grew on the hill at Duncan's Point. That night, over the harbor—where once Linzee's men had fought—danced the twinkling lights of peace.
MARY BROOKS.