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alone here and there’s a lot of rebels.”
    “All the more to kill,” Moore said. “We shall take post here till the fog lifts, Sergeant, then look for a better vantage point.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    The picquet was posted; their task to watch for the coming of an enemy. That enemy, the brigadier had assured his officers, would come. Of that McLean was sure. So he cut down trees and plotted where the fort must be.
    To defend the king’s land from the king’s enemies.
     
    Excerpt of letter from the Massachusetts Council, to the Continental Navy Board in Boston, June 30th, 1779:
    Gentlemen: The General Assembly of this State have determined on an Expedition to Penobscot to Dislodge the Enemy of the United States lately enter’d There who are said to be committing Hostilities on the Good People of this State . . . fortifying themselves at Baggobagadoos, and as They are supported by a Considerable Naval Force, to Effect our Design, it will be expedient to send there, to aid our Land Operations a Superior Naval Force. Therefore . . . we write you . . . requesting you to aid our Designs, by adding to the Naval Force of this State, now, with all Possible Speed preparing, for an expedition to Penobscot; the Continental Frigate now in this Harbor, and the other armed Continental vessells here.
    Excerpts from the Warrant of Impressment issued to Masschusetts sheriffs, July 3rd, 1779:
    You are hereby authorized and Commanded taking with you such Assistance as you judge proper, forthwith to take seize and impress any able-bodied Seamen, or Mariner which you shall find in your Precinct . . . to serve on board any of the Vessels entered into the Service of this State to be employed in the proposed expedition to Penobscot. . . . You are hereby Authorized to enter on board and search any Ship or Vessel or to break open and search any Dwelling house or other building in which you shall suspect any such Seamen or Mariners to be concealed.
    Excerpt from a letter sent by Brigadier-General Charles Cushing to the Council of the State of Massachusetts, June 19th, 1779:
    I have Issued orders to the officers of my Brigade requiring them to inlist men agreeable thereto. I would inform your Honors that at present there seems no prospect of getting one man as the Bounty offered is in the Esteem of the people inadequate.

Chapter Two
    Lieutenant-Colonel Paul Revere stood square in the Boston Armory yard. He wore a light blue uniform coat faced in brown, white deerskin breeches, knee boots, and had a naval cutlass hanging from a thick brown belt. His wide-brimmed hat was made of felt, and it shadowed a broad, stubborn face that was creased in thought. “You making that list, boy?” he demanded brusquely.
    “Yes, sir,” the boy answered. He was twelve, the son of Josiah Flint who ruled the armory from his high-backed, well-padded chair that had been dragged from the office and set beside the trestle table where the boy made his list. Flint liked to sit in the yard when the weather allowed so he could keep an eye on the comings and goings in his domain.
    “Drag chains,” Revere said, “sponges, searchers, relievers, am I going too fast?”
    “Relievers,” the boy muttered, dipping his pen into the inkwell.
    “Hot today,” Josiah Flint grumbled from the depths of his chair.
    “It’s summer,” Revere said, “and it should be hot. Rammers, boy, and wad hooks. Spikes, tompions, linstocks, vent-covers. What have I forgotten, Mister Flint?”
    “Priming wires, Colonel.”
    “Priming wires, boy.”
    “Priming wires,” the boy said, finishing the list.
    “And there’s something else in the back of my mind,” Flint said, frowning, then thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe nothing,” he said.
    “You hunt through your pa’s supplies, boy,” Revere said, “and you make piles of all those things. We need to know how many we’ve got. You note down how many and then you tell me. Off you go.”
    “And