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The Snow Fort on Slatter's Hill (Chapter Thirteen of The Story of a Bad Boy) by Thomas Bailey Aldrich The memory of man, even that of the Oldest
Inhabitant, runneth not back to the time when there did not exist a feud
between the North End and the South End boys of Rivermouth.
The origin of the feud is involved in mystery; it is
impossible to say which party was the first aggressor in the far-off
anterevolutionary ages; but the fact remains that the youngsters of those
antipodal sections entertained a mortal hatred for each other, and that
this hatred had been handed down from generation to generation, like Miles
Standish's punch-bowl. I know not what laws, natural or unnatural, regulated
the warmth of the quarrel; but at some seasons it raged more violently
than at others. This winter both parties were unusually lively and
antagonistic. Great was the wrath of the South-Enders, when they
discovered that the North-Enders bad thrown up a fort on the crown of
Slatter's Hill. Slatter's Hill, or No-man's-land, as it was generally
called, was a rise of ground covering, perhaps, an acre and a quarter,
situated on an imaginary line, marking the boundary between the two
districts. An immense stratum of granite, which here and there thrust out
a wrinkled boulder, prevented the site from being used for building
purposes. The street ran on either side of the hill, from one part of
which a quantity of rock had been removed to form the underpinning of the
new jail. This excavation made the approach from that point all but
impossible, especially when the ragged ledges were a-glitter with ice. You
see what a spot it was for a snow-fort. One evening twenty or thirty of the North-Enders
quietly took possession of Slatter's Hill, and threw up a strong line of
breastworks, something after this shape: (____
____)
\_____ _____/ \______/ The rear of the entrenchment, being protected by the
quarry, was left open. The walls were four feet high, and twenty-two
inches thick, strengthened at the angles by stakes driven firmly into the
ground. Fancy the rage of the South-Enders the next day, when
they spied our snowy citadel, with Jack Harris's red silk pocket
handkerchief floating defiantly from the flag-staff. In less than an hour it was known all over town, in
military circles at least, that the "Puddle-dockers" and the
"River-rats' (these were the derisive sub-titles bestowed on our
South-End foes) intended to attack the fort that Saturday afternoon. At two o'clock all the fighting boys of the Temple
Grammar School, and as many recruits as we could muster, lay behind the
walls of Fort Slatter, with three hundred compact snowballs piled up in
pyramids, awaiting the approach of the enemy. The enemy was not slow in
making his approach-fifty strong, headed by one Mat Ames. Our forces were
under the command of General J. Harris. Before the action commenced, a meeting was arranged
between the rival commanders, who drew up and signed certain rules and
regulations respecting the conduct of the battle. As it was impossible for
the North-Enders to occupy the fort permanently, it was stipulated that
the South-Enders should assault it only on Wednesday and Saturday
afternoons between the hours of two and six. For them to take possession
of the place at any other time was not to constitute a capture, but on the
contrary was to be considered a dishonorable and cowardly act. The North-Enders, on the other hand, agreed to give
up the fort whenever ten of the storming party succeeded in obtaining at
one time a footing on the parapet, and were able to hold the same for the
space of two minutes. Both sides were to abstain from putting pebbles into
their snow-balls, nor was it permissible to use frozen ammunition. A
snow-ball soaked in water and left out to cool was a projectile which in
previous years had been resorted to with disastrous results. These preliminaries settled, the commanders retired
to their respective corps. The interview had taken place on the hillside
between the opposing lines. General Harris divided his men into two bodies; the
first comprised the most skilful marksmen, or gunners; the second, the
reserve force, was composed of the strongest boys, whose duty it was to
repel the scaling parties, and to make occasional sallies for the purpose
of capturing prisoners, who were bound by the articles of treaty to
faithfully serve under our flag until they were exchanged at the close of
the day. The repellers were called light infantry; but when
they carried on operations beyond the fort they became cavalry. It was
also their duty, when not otherwise engaged, to manufacture snow-balls.
The General's staff consisted of five Templars (I among the number, with
the rank of Major), who carried the General's orders and looked after the
wounded. General Mat Ames, a veteran commander, was no less
wide-awake in the disposition of his army. Five companies, each numbering
but six men, in order not to present too big a target to our
sharpshooters, were to charge the fort from different points, their
advance being covered by a heavy fire from the gunners posted in the rear.
Each scaler was provided with only two rounds of ammunition, which were
not to be used until he had mounted the breastwork and could deliver his
shots on our heads. The drawing below represents the interior of the fort
just previous to the assault. Nothing on earth could represent the state
of things after the first volley. The enemy was posted thus:-- __ a
__
__
__
__
__
b
*
c
The thrilling moment had now arrived. If I had been
going into a real engagement I could not have been more deeply impressed
by the importance of the occasion. The fort opened fire first-a single ball from the
dexterous band of General Harris taking General Ames in the very pit of
his stomach. A cheer went up from Fort Slatter. In an instant the air was
thick with flying missiles, in the midst of which we dimly descried the
storming parties sweeping up the hill, shoulder to shoulder. The shouts of
the leaders, and the snowballs bursting like shells about our ears, made
it very lively. Not more than a dozen of the enemy succeeded in
reaching the crest of the hill; five of these clambered upon the icy
walls, where they were instantly grabbed by the legs and jerked into the
fort. The rest retired confused and blinded by our well-directed fire. When General Harris (with his right eye bunged up)
said, 'Soldiers, I am proud of you!" my heart swelled in my bosom. The victory, however, had not been without its price.
Six North-Enders, having rushed out to harass the discomfited enemy, were
gallantly cut off by General Ames and captured. Among these were
Lieutenant P. Whitcomb (who had no business to join in the charge, being
weak in the knees), and Captain Fred Langdon, of General Harris's staff.
Whitcomb was one of the most notable shots on our side, though he was not
much to boast of in a rough-and-tumble fight, owing to the weakness before
mentioned. General Ames put him among the gunners, and we were quickly
made aware of the loss we had sustained, by receiving a frequent artful
ball which seemed to light with unerring instinct on any nose that was the
least bit exposed. I have known one of Pepper's snow-balls, fired
pointblank, to turn a comer and hit a boy who considered himself
absolutely safe. But we had no time for vain regrets. The battle
raged. Already there were two bad cases of black eye, and one of
nosebleed, in the hospital. It was glorious excitement, those pell-mell
onslaughts and hand-to-hand struggles. Twice we were within an ace of
being driven from our stronghold, when General Harris and his staff leaped
recklessly upon the ramparts and hurled the besiegers heels over head down
hill. At sunset, the garrison of Fort Slatter was still
unconquered, and the South-Enders, in a solid phalanx, marched off
whistling "Yankee Doodle," while we cheered and jeered them
until they were out of hearing. General Ames remained behind to effect an exchange of
prisoners. We held thirteen of his men, and he eleven of ours. General
Ames proposed to call it an even thing, since many of his eleven prisoners
were officers, while nearly all our thirteen captives were privates. A
dispute arising on this point, the two noble generals came to fisticuffs,
and in the-fracas our brave commander got his remaining well eye badly
damaged. This didn't prevent him from writing a general order the next
day, on a slate, in which he complimented the troops on their heroic
behavior. On the following Wednesday the siege was renewed. I
forget whether it was on that afternoon or the next that we lost Fort
Slatter; but lose it we did, with much valuable ammunition and several
men. After a series of desperate assaults, we forced General Ames to
capitulate; and he, in turn, made the place too hot to hold us. So from
day to day the tide of battle surged to and fro, sometimes favoring our
arms, and sometimes those of the enemy. General Ames handled his men with great skill; his
deadliest foe could not deny that. Once he outgeneralled our commander in
the following manner: He massed his gunners on our left and opened a brisk
fire, under cover of which a single company (six men) advanced on that
angle of the fort. Our reserves on the right rushed over to defend the
threatened point. Meanwhile, four companies of the enemy's scalers made a
detour round the foot of the hill, and dashed into Fort Slatter without
opposition. At the same moment General Ames's gunners closed in on our
left, and there we were between two fires. Of course we had to vacate the
fort. A cloud rested on General Harris's military reputation until his
superior tactics enabled him to dispossess the enemy. As the winter wore on, the war-spirit waxed fiercer
and fiercer. At length the provision against using heavy substances in the
snow-balls was disregarded. A ball stuck full of sand-bird shot came
tearing into Fort Slatter. In retaliation, General Harris ordered a
broadside of shells; i. e. snow-balls containing marbles. After this, both
sides never failed to freeze their ammunition. It was no longer child's play to march up to the
walls of Fort Slatter, nor was the position of the besieged less perilous.
At every assault three or four boys on each side were disabled. It was not
an infrequent occurrence for the combatants to hold up a flag of truce
while they removed some insensible comrade. Matters grew worse and worse. Seven North-Enders had
been seriously wounded, and a dozen South-Enders were reported on the sick
list. The selectmen of the town awoke to the fact of what was going on,
and detailed a posse of police to prevent further disturbance. The boys at
the foot of the hill, South-Enders as it happened, finding themselves
assailed in the rear and on the flank, turned round and attempted to beat
off the watchmen. In this they were sustained by numerous volunteers from
the fort, who looked upon the interference as tyrannical. The watch were determined fellows, and charged the
boys valiantly, driving them all into the fort, where we made common
cause, fighting side by side like the best of friends. In vain the four
guardians of the peace rushed up the hill, flourishing their clubs and
calling upon us to surrender. They could not get within ten yards of the
fort, our fire was so destructive. In one of the onsets a man named
Mugridge, more valorous than his peers, threw himself upon the parapet,
when he was seized by twenty pairs of hands, and dragged inside the
breastwork, where fifteen boys sat down on him to keep him quiet. Perceiving that it was impossible with their small
number to dislodge us, the watch sent for reinforcements. Their call was
responded to, not only by the whole constabulary force (eight men), but by
a numerous body of citizens, who had become alarmed at the prospect of a
riot. This formidable array brought us to our senses: we began to think
that maybe discretion was the better part of valor. General Harris and
General Ames, with their respective staffs, held a council of war in the
hospital, and a backward movement was decided on. So, after one grand
farewell volley, we fled, sliding, jumping, rolling, tumbling down the
quarry at the rear of the fort, and escaped without losing a man. But we lost Fort Slatter forever. Those
battle-scarred ramparts were razed to the ground, and humiliating ashes
sprinkled over the historic spot, near which a solitary lynx-eyed
policeman was seen prowling from time to time during the rest of the
winter. The event passed into a legend, and afterwards, when
later instances of pluck and endurance were spoken of, the boys would say,
"By golly! You ought to have been at the fights on Slatter's
Hill!"
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