296 History of Hingham. 



pass wearily ; the garrison flag at the Castle and the ensign on 

 Commodore Banks' ship hang alike lifeless in the all-pervading 

 calm ; the transports drift rather than sail towards their destina- 

 tions. The sun sets for the last time upon the British fleet in 

 Boston harbor. By the morning of the 14th all is in readiness. 

 Capt. Peter dishing with his Hingham men are in the works at 

 Hull, while with them are other companies from the sea-coast, and 

 a part of the militia from Boston ; the whole forming a consider- 

 able force, including a portion of Colonel Craft's famous train of 

 artillery, — another detachment of which, with some militia, has 

 been posted at Pettick's Island, adjoining. There are about six 

 hundred men at each place. About the same number of militia 

 from the towns near, together with a detachment of artillery, are 

 distributed at Moon Island, Hof's Neck, and Point Allerton, while 

 Colonel Whitcomb, with the regulars and two eighteen-pounders, 

 has taken post at Long Island. The various companies from the 

 vicinity are at their posts. Suddenly there is a flash followed by 

 a puff of smoke, and a few seconds later, a bang from one of Col- 

 onel Whitcomb's guns at Long Island ; the engagement has com- 

 menced. And now the flashes and puffs and bangs come from all 

 around, and the great guns of his Majesty's ships make a spirited 

 reply. There goes a shot from Hull ; we may be sure that was 

 from Hingham's cannon, which, as we shall see a little later, the 

 selectmen paid Hawkes Fearing for carrying over to the neighbor- 

 ing town. The smoke drifts lazily away, and at times almost ob- 

 scures the vision. It is a grand and exciting scene that is being 

 enacted. The Continentals, the Minute-men, the English, — these 

 are the performers in the closing act of the siege of Boston. A 

 shot from the Americans pierces the upper works of the Commo- 

 dore's ship ; the contest is over. A signal, and up go the sails, out 

 by Nantasket into the open sea pass the enemy's squadron, while 

 with a great explosion and a dull roar the lighthouse sinks be- 

 neath the waves. As the evening sun neared the horizon and 

 lighted the fleecy clouds, turning them into great masses of crim- 

 son and gold, and the unruffled waters became magnificent in their 

 pink and gilded glow, the land breeze blew out no enemy's colors, 

 and upon the harbor rested only the peaceful Yankee merchant- 

 man, or the American cruiser, over which idly floated the pine-tree 

 ensign, while a feeling of quiet and thanksgiving settled over a 

 freed Commonwealth. 



In the useful, honorable, and distinguished life of Benjamin Lin- 

 coln, there may have been greater triumphs than that which the 

 successful achievement of this June day brought, but for us there 

 is a homelike and personal character about the event that endears 

 it especially ; and it would be difficult not to believe that the 

 sturdy heart of our Hingham general beat the quicker and with a 

 warmer glow as he watched the enemy's topmasts sink beneath 

 the distant horizon, and felt that the freeing of the capital and of 

 the homes of his neighbors and of his own home from the fear and 



