As the British forces again invaded Lexington soil undoubtedly they looked for vengeance from the hands of the little band that stood before them in the early morning. If they did anticipate as much they were not disappointed, for as we have stated Captain Parker and his men had come out into the edge of Lincoln to meet them.

Just over the line into Lexington, and a few rods north of the road, the land rises about fifty feet rather abruptly and with a ledgy face. This little summit commands a grand view up and down the road, for quite a distance, and therefore was an ideal location for the minute-men. Many were there awaiting the passing of the British, and when they were opposite, poured down on them a volley. At least one fell, an officer, for a few years ago a sword was taken up from the depth of about four feet, evidently from his grave. It was almost consumed with rust, but enough remaining to identify it as of British make and of that period. The reports of muskets, and little puffs of blue smoke betrayed the location of the marksmen, and the British at once returned the fire. Their aim was without effect. One of their bullets flattened against the ledge, and was also found by the present owner of the land, buried in the decayed leaves and refuse at the base of the ledge.[236]

Not more than a quarter of a mile farther along the road, stood Bull's Tavern,[237] in later times known as Viles Tavern. Nothing now remains of it but the cellar-hole and that is not so deep as once. The soldiers ransacked the house for food and drink, but left no recompense. A few rods more the road turns northeasterly around a bluff twenty feet high, perhaps. The struggle was renewed there furiously, for the British flankers could not manoeuvre to protect the main column so well, and they suffered severely for half a mile or more towards Fiske Hill. Lieut.-Col. Smith was wounded by a bullet passing through his leg.[238] Major Pitcairn's horse becoming unmanageable through fright, threw him to the ground, and escaped into the American lines, where he was captured, together with equipments, including the Major's beautiful brace of pistols.[239]

Many British were wounded, and many killed, along this part of Battle Road. A little way from the bluff, over the wall on the opposite side of the road and in a southerly direction, are graves of two. No memorial stone marks the exact spot, and even the mounds, too, have long since dissolved away.[240]

The contending forces were now climbing Fiske Hill, about sixty feet higher than the bluff.[241] The road at that time passed higher up than at present, and near the summit fighting was more severe again. One Briton, at least, fell there and was buried in the little strip of ground between the old and new road. A heap of small stones once marked the spot, but they have disappeared.[242]

Down the easterly slope of Fiske Hill stands a modest little farmhouse, on the southerly side of the road. It was then the home of Benjamin Fiske. The entire family had fled, and the stragglers from the British columns entered for pillage. One in his greed stayed too long. Brave James Hayward of Acton, willing to fight though exempt from military service because of a partially dismembered foot, met him at the door, laden with booty. The Briton recognized in Hayward an enemy, and raising his gun, exclaimed,

"You are a dead man!"

"And so are you," responded Hayward as he raised his gun also. Both fired—both fell, the British instantly killed and Hayward mortally wounded, the ball piercing his bullet-pouch and entering his side. He lived eight hours and was conscious to the last. Calling for his powder horn and bullet-pouch, he remarked that he started with one pound of powder and forty bullets. A very little powder and two or three balls were all that were left.

"You see what I have been about," he exclaimed, calling attention to the slight remainder. "I am not sorry; I die willingly for my country."[243] And so Concord and Lexington, too, reverently treasure the memory of brave Acton men, whose life blood stained the soil of each.

Up the westerly slope of Concord Hill, an elevation named after her sister town, marched the British. Their ranks were broken and disordered. Many had been wounded, many had been killed, and many had fallen exhausted by the wayside. It was then about half past one o'clock, and they had marched rather more than twenty-three miles. At that time their ammunition began to give out, which added to their discomfiture. Their enemies seemed to be countless and everywhere. De Bernicre, the spy, who was with them, has left a vivid word picture of how anxious they were getting. "There could not be less than 5,000," he says in his account, "so they kept the road always lined, and a very hot fire on us without intermission.... We began to run rather than retreat in order." Lieut.-Col. Smith, says, in his report, that the firing on his troops, which began in Concord, "increased to a very great degree and continued without the intermission of five minutes, altogether for I believe upwards of eighteen miles."

Such was the impression on the minds of Smith, and his weary soldiers as they hurried along down Fiske Hill and up Concord Hill. If he entertained any idea of surrendering, though I have no evidence that he did, he must have realized the hopelessness of that, for no one seemed to be commanding the multitude before him, beside him, and behind him. They constituted a large circle of individuals, but made no attempt to stay his march or guide it in any way. They just followed along, seemingly intent only on hunting down the King's soldiers. Had some master mind been in charge of the patriot army, Smith's entire force could easily have been taken prisoners. But this was the first day of the war, and was only a contest between soldiers and citizens. And so Smith was allowed to march along.

Near the foot of the westerly slope of Concord Hill stood the home of Thaddeus Reed.[244] He was one of Captain Parker's Company. After the British passed along the Americans picked up three severely wounded soldiers and carried them into the house, where they all died. They were buried not far away, a few feet westerly of Wood St., on the northerly side of a stone wall still standing, and but a few rods from Battle Road. Their graves are unmarked and almost unknown.[245]

The British flankers were now so thoroughly tired out that they could hardly act in that capacity, and were of but little use as protectors of the main body. The severely wounded were abandoned to some extent. Many of the slightly wounded were carried along somehow, but they greatly impeded the march. Hopes of reinforcements were practically abandoned.[246]

And so they proceeded up the hill, the summit of which is fully forty feet higher than Fiske Hill and at least eighty feet higher than Lexington Common,[247] now in view less than a mile away. They must have been anxious to reach and pass that little field. Down the easterly slope of Concord Hill they almost ran, in more or less confusion and intense excitement. The Americans were actively keeping up their firing, and so more Britons were killed and wounded, three of the latter so severely that they were abandoned by their fellow soldiers, fell into the hands of the Americans and were taken into Buckman Tavern.[248] One subsequently died and was buried with the British slain in the old cemetery near by. Their graves are unmarked.[249]

The British did not stop to disperse any rebels on Lexington Common, for none were there to oppose their retreat, but passed off the southeasterly point, as the Americans came promptly after them on the northwesterly side. It was between two and three o'clock when they reached the site of the present Lexington High School, a trifle more than half a mile from the Common. There they met the long-wished for reinforcements, under Lord Percy, who opened his ranks, and enclosed them in his protecting care. Many sank immediately into the road where they halted, for their physical condition was pitiful in the extreme. One of the contemporary English historians, an officer in the British Army in America, has described them as lying prone on the ground, like dogs with protruding tongues.[250]

Percy then quickly wheeled about his two field pieces,[251] and opened fire up the road, towards the Common, where he could see the Americans were gathered. It was not fatal in its effect, but served to scatter them and do considerable damage to the meeting-house, one ball passing through it. Col. Loammi Baldwin, of Woburn, was one who had been standing in sight of the British, but he sought shelter behind the sacred edifice when he realized the enemy had opened fire with artillery. When a ball passed through the meeting-house and came out near his head he retreated northwesterly to the meadow.[252]

Not many of the Americans had been killed thus far, in the retreat of the British through Lexington. We have spoken of James Hayward of Acton, killed on the easterly side of Fiske Hill, and must add the name of Deacon Josiah Haynes of Capt. Nixon's Sudbury Company, who met his death somewhere along the road from Fiske Hill to Lexington Common.[253] He was a venerable man, in his seventy-ninth year,[254] and had marched from his home down to Concord village, up through Lincoln, and into Lexington. He was thoroughly in earnest in his work of driving the British back to Boston, and in an unguarded moment exposed himself to one of the King's riflemen.

On the Lexington part of Battle Road, many British were killed and many wounded. Among the latter were Lieut. Hawkshaw, Lieut. Cox, and Lieut. Baker, all of the Fifth Regiment; Ensign Baldwin and Lieut. McCloud, of the Forty-seventh Regiment; and Captain Souter and Lieut. Potter of the Marines.[255] I have previously mentioned the wounding of the commander, Lieut.-Col. Smith, on the westerly slope of Fiske Hill.

After the British had departed from Lexington immediate attention was given to the Lexington patriot dead who were slain on the Common in the early morning. From the field of battle they had been borne to the meeting-house, and there a simple service held over them, consisting of a prayer by Rev. Jonas Clarke. Then they were carried to the little church-yard, where one broad grave received them all. It had been a day of terror in Lexington, and some fear was felt that the enemy might return and wreak yet further vengeance, even upon the dead. So the grave was made in a remote part of the yard, near the woods, and the fresh mound of earth itself hidden beneath branches cut from the neighboring trees.[256] And not forgotten three score years later, their grateful fellow townsmen removed their remains to the field where they died, and erected a monument to their memory.