Occasionally the contest narrowed down to personal encounters between two or more. It was near the Menotomy River, on the Cambridge side, that Lieut. Bowman, of Arlington, overtook a straggler from the British ranks, and engaged him in single combat. Both had guns, but neither one was loaded. The Briton rushed at Bowman with fixed bayonet, but the latter warded it off, and with his musket clubbed his antagonist to the ground. Then he took him prisoner.[303]

Cambridge was the home of Capt. Samuel Thatcher's company of seventy-seven men, but it is probable that Smith had encountered them as far back as Lincoln, for the muster roll in the Massachusetts Archives states that most of them marched twenty-eight miles, which would mean up into Lincoln and return, and to Charlestown Neck and return.

Percy's march through Cambridge, from Menotomy River to the Somerville line, measured nearly a mile and a quarter. The provincials expected that he would return to Boston by the route he came out, that is through Harvard Square over Charles River bridge into Brighton, thence through Roxbury, and along Boston Neck and into Boston. Anticipating as much, it was ordered that the bridge should be made impassable. But Percy deemed it wise to hurry on to Charlestown, trusting that Gen. Gage would have an ample force there to receive and protect him. It was several miles nearer, and with no possibility of dismantled bridges to reconstruct, for his troops to pass over. Nor should it be forgotten that Percy's original plan was to remain that night, at least, in Harvard Square, but he had not counted on such intense hostility, from so large an army of minute-men in open rebellion. He deemed it wiser, therefore, to move constantly forward towards the main army.

This mile and a quarter in Cambridge proved to be one of continual battle, also. The Americans were ever on the alert, and growing more and more active as they realized more and more the real meaning of the invasion. The sight of many of the British soldiers loaded down with plunder; the curling smoke and flames from American dwellings; the dying and the dead, some of them horribly mutilated, scattered all along the highway, were at last inspiring an intense feeling of hatred, and a longing for a satisfying vengeance. Percy's army experienced practically the same sensations. Trained as soldiers to the usages of open warfare, they deemed the frontier method of fighting as unfair and cowardly. They held in contempt the man who should remain concealed in safety and shoot down one who was compelled to remain in the open. Undoubtedly, too, the memory of a comrade, lying at the North Bridge with that ugly hatchet death-wound in the head, aroused the most savage instincts, that seemed to cry for brutal retaliation. Whittemore, and Wyman, and Winship seem to have been victims of vengeance rather than of war.

The Americans did not profit much by the lessons which they had received, earlier in the day, for they again fell victims to the British flankers. Quite a number had gathered near the home of Jacob Watson, situated on the southerly side of the highway near the present Rindge Avenue. Their fragile security was a pile of empty casks, not far from the road, from behind which they awaited the oncoming of the British. But the flank-guard came up in their rear, unobserved, and completely surprised them, killing Major Isaac Gardner of Brookline, a favorite son of that town, and the first graduate of Harvard College to fall in the War, and two Cambridge men, John Hicks, nearly fifty years old, and Moses Richardson, fifty-three years old. And near the same place, another Cambridge man, William Marcy, as tradition says[304] of feeble intellect, and a non-combatant. He was sitting on the fence, evidently enjoying the military spectacle, and perhaps good-naturedly cheering on the marching red-coats. His friendly demonstrations were entirely mistaken for shouts of derision. In the midst of his simple pleasure, some Briton esteemed it his duty to kill him as an enemy of the King.

The British loss at this place was but one killed.

On they marched, wheeling to the left, into Beech Street, a thoroughfare about seven hundred feet long, and thence out of Cambridge and into Somerville.

Soon after this, the wife of John Hicks, whose home is still standing (1912) at the corner of Dunster and Winthrop Streets, fearing for his safety, sent her son, fourteen years of age, to look for him. He had been absent since morning, and undoubtedly the noise of battle, a mile and a quarter away, coming across the fields, bore a sad burden of prophecy. Her misgivings were well founded, for the son found his father by the roadside where he fell, and near him the others.

The body of Isaac Gardner was taken to Brookline and there buried the next day. The remains of John Hicks, Moses Richardson and William Marcy, were immediately taken to the little churchyard near the Common, a mile from where they fell. They were buried in one grave, without coffins or shrouds even. A son of Moses Richardson, standing by, realizing that the earth was to fall directly on their faces, jumped down into the grave and arranged the cape of his father's coat, that it might shield him somewhat from the falling earth.

We may wonder now, at that hasty burial, without much, if any, ceremony; but let us associate with it the trail of the invading army, and of what seemed possible for the morrow, if it should return, greatly reinforced, for vengeance. Boston was not far away, and Gen. Gage, even then, might be preparing to move on Cambridge, with a force sufficiently large for its subjection. The Americans did not fully realize their own power or their own courage, not even as well as Gen. Gage did, who wisely decreed to remain in Boston and Charlestown, and decide later whether to pursue an aggressive or a defensive campaign. The spontaneous rousing of the country was an impressive one to the British commander.

It had evidently been Percy's plan to camp on Cambridge Common that night, and while awaiting expected reinforcements, or upon their arrival, lay the buildings of Harvard College, and others, in ruins. Such a course would have been in harmony with his warfare in Lexington and Arlington, and serve as a practical lesson to those in rebellion, of the disposition and readiness of their King to wreak a swift and terrible vengeance upon his enemies.[305] But Percy's plans were rudely disarranged, and he commenced to realize that he was really being driven back to Boston.