The month of September wore away. October came, and with it the opening of the “peace convention” which O’Halloran had called on the first day of his power at Washington. But its sessions were cut short by the unexpectedly speedy action of England. On the declaration of the British Government that war existed with the United States, cable communication between the United Kingdom and the United States had been broken. The arrest of the French and German ministers had caused irrepressible indignation in the Governments they represented, and the refusal of the triumvirate in power at Washington to heed their demands for reparation and apology had been followed by almost simultaneous declarations of war from Paris and Berlin. All communication with the United States from any part of their dominions was peremptorily forbidden. No news could be received from Europe except by roundabout and tedious routes, and little was known of what was being done there; but no one among the revolutionary leaders dreamed of a blow being struck before the opening of the ensuing spring.

It was therefore with something like stupefaction that they heard, on the morning of the very day on which their farcical “peace convention” met, of the arrival in the port of Halifax of a powerful British fleet, consisting of seventeen armored fighting ships and thirty of the largest steamships formerly plying across the Atlantic, which had been transformed for the time being into troop-ships, conveying an army of twenty-eight thousand men and an immense amount of ammunition and warlike supplies. This fleet, said the first despatch which was handed to O’Halloran just before he rose to open the convention, was coaling up as rapidly as the conveniences in the port would permit, evidently with the intention of making a speedy descent at some point on the American coast. O’Halloran showed the despatch to Wagner; but both considered that it must be a hoax. It was impossible, they agreed, that England could have had a fleet in readiness and transports at hand, and men and arms prepared so as to strike across the three thousand miles of intervening sea within a month from the date on which hostilities had been declared. They consequently decided to ignore the despatch. But other despatches soon followed, confirming the news. They came from such sources that even O’Halloran was convinced of their entire truth. Summoning the two other members of “the Government,” he laid his additional information before them.

Nothing had been done to strengthen the defences of a single seaport along the eastern border of the land. Built many years before, and to withstand the fire of comparatively small guns, the forts which stood at the entrances of the Atlantic harbors were practically of no offensive or defensive value whatever. They could neither withstand the shot of modern guns nor reply with missiles likely to injure in the slightest degree the sides of modern armored vessels. There was not, in all the waters of the world, a navy flying the American flag which was able, unitedly, to combat the weakest of the ironclads named as making up the English power at Halifax. Upon the first outbreak in April, the little band of regular-army officers engaged in experiments with torpedoes at various stations along the coast had been compelled to join their regiments, and had not since returned to their experiments. The Revolutionary Government had done nothing except issue “subventions” to a few long-haired, half-crazed socialists and dynamiters to enable them to continue pottering and unscientific attempts at the invention of new explosives. There were not experienced gunners enough in the entire revolutionary army to man completely and to work efficiently the guns in half the forts along the coast, such as they were.

It was naturally assumed that New York, the richest city of the country and the real centre of the revolution, would be the first object of British attack. There were already about one hundred and fifty thousand men in or about the city. They were hastily sent to the forts of the harbor. Orders from Washington set a hundred thousand more in motion towards the metropolis from Western cities. Canal-barges and tow-boats were seized, loaded with stone, and sunk across the channel at the Narrows. Others were loaded with petroleum and made ready for use as fire-ships to send against the attacking fleet.

The convention speedily broke up. It held two sessions, but these were spent in wordy wrangles; they failed to result in even the choice of a presiding officer. The real leaders of the revolutionists hurried towards the East on the confirmation of the news from Halifax. Others followed in rapid succession, till, on the second day, less than half the delegates remained in Washington. The convention dissolved. It did not adjourn, it simply ceased to exist.

But Admiral Seymour, who commanded the British fleet, did not aim at New York. While the revolutionists there were working with the energy of desperation to block the approach to their water-front, he turned into Boston Harbor, and, a little before noon, the 8th of October, fired his first shot into Fort Warren, the structure defending the lower main channel. The little garrison in the fort responded bravely for an hour, but they could do nothing to harm the British fleet. Their numbers were small, their guns old-fashioned and weak, and their ammunition was soon spent. Their missiles seldom reached the sides of the British vessels; when they did, they rebounded and fell off as if they had been nothing worse than pebbles. The British fire was not rapid at first, but terribly exact, and the fleet steadily drew to closer quarters. The leading vessels approached within less than a fourth of a mile of the fort. Their fire became more rapid and destructive. The garrison was driven from the casemates and compelled to retreat under such shelter as could be found. The flag was shot away. A landing-party from the fleet rowed down upon the fort, under the fire their own vessels were pouring into it. Before they reached it, a white flag appeared on the walls, and firing ceased. The fort surrendered.

Leaving a few men to dismantle it and destroy the magazine, the fleet proceeded up the harbor without meeting further resistance. Its appearance off the outer light had been announced in the city during the morning, and every road to the North and West was blocked by flying fugitives, who expected each moment to hear the shriek of British shells hurtling above them through the air. Admiral Seymour drew up in front of the city and within a quarter of a mile of the wharves, each vessel swinging broadside to and anchoring bow and stern. The guns were manned; and in this position he waited an hour for any message that might be sent him from the shore.

But the mayor of Boston was himself an Irishman who had become known as a sympathizer in the dynamite outrages. He had made several virulent speeches against England and in eulogy of the “Irish martyrs,” as it was the custom of his kind to denominate such murderers as were hanged for assassinating landlords in Ireland or blowing up women and children in London. He dared not show himself on board an English war-vessel. In truth, he had been among the first to flee the city on the news of the English approach. The city council had been hurriedly convened; but time was wasted in a search for him before his flight became known.

During this hour of waiting, a party of young and reckless Irish bravos had managed to steal unobserved into Fort Independence. This was an antiquated stone fort in the upper harbor, entirely deserted, and mounting a few harmless cannon. With these they began firing upon the nearest British vessels. Their missiles had no more effect on the armored war-ships than pop-guns could have had on Achilles’ shield; but they ended the respite which Admiral Seymour had given the city. A shell from his flag-ship was the signal for a volley from the whole fleet. But the second round had not been fired when a white flag was seen moving down Long Wharf and a party of men taking a boat. An alderman boarded the flag-ship and begged that no further destruction be done, as the city was defenceless and no opposition would be offered to the operations of the fleet. In fact, he begged that a guard might be landed at once to take possession of the public buildings and save them from utter destruction in the disorder which was rampant once more in the city, and which the authorities could not repress.

Night had already begun to fall; nevertheless a strong party of marines was landed from the fleet. Most of the public buildings had been destroyed by the mob during the outbreaks in the summer; but the State House was still standing, though its interior had been dismantled, and the post-office was intact. These buildings were taken possession of, and put in readiness for defence against any attacks such as might be made by a mob; small garrisons were left in them, and other bodies encamped on the famous “Common” and in the Public Garden.

The next morning’s dawn saw the harbor black with the smoke of a score of transports, from which whole brigades of red-coated soldiers were disembarked at Long Wharf. As fast as landed they were marched through the city and pushed out beyond the suburbs in every direction, where they began the work of fortifying themselves. From Hingham to Revere, earthworks were thrown up and mounted with guns taken from the forts in the harbor and pieces brought by the invaders. Describing a vast semicircle, these fortifications cut off every landward approach to the city. Detached forts were built on strategic points in advance of the general line, and behind the semicircle a double line of railway track was laid, so that every point of the fortifications was within half an hour of relief from any other post. Transports arrived almost daily with fresh troops and munitions. The city was turned into a vast British camp, and evidence soon came that it had been chosen as the winter quarters, from which operations would be begun in the spring. General Wood, of Afghan and African fame, arrived a few days later and assumed command.

The revolutionists had not allowed this work to proceed without making all the trouble they could. As soon as the attack on Boston had developed itself, large detachments had been hurried from New York to the assistance of the small number which had been left watching the New England metropolis. But transportation was so slow and facilities so inadequate that they found the British in force occupying the most important positions around the city, and already strongly fortified, before they could gather strength sufficient to warrant an attack. They brought with them only field-pieces in the way of artillery, and were overmatched even by the old-fashioned guns from the harbor forts with which many of the earthworks had been mounted. From these guns the English gunners constantly dropped shells among them, reaching their camps at a distance from which they could make no reply. One or two desperate assaults were made on the intrenchments; but a near approach showed that these were not only mounted with numerous long-range pieces, but that their parapets fairly bristled with Gatling guns and mitrailleuses, which mowed the assailants down in actual swaths as they came within rifle-shot. Hopeless of success, the revolutionists sullenly retired to Worcester, Springfield, Providence, and other interior cities, and the Washington triumvirate prepared to wait till spring. Then they hoped to muster a force great enough to overwhelm, by sheer weight of numbers, all the British who might be sent across the sea.

When the city was first captured, a number of prominent Irish leaders had been seized by the troops under Admiral Seymour. In one of the assaults made on the British earthworks in Medford, a few days later, about two hundred revolutionists, including two officers calling themselves generals, had been captured. They were conveyed to the jail on Charles Street, and incarcerated with the Irishmen previously arrested. The next day General Wood called the city council together at his headquarters, which had been fixed in the State House, and directed them to inform the General Government at Washington, “or the persons in whose custody the English minister and his colleagues of France and Germany are detained,” that these prisoners would be held as hostages for the safe keeping and delivery of the diplomats within British lines. Furthermore, the council was advised that all non-combatants would do well to remove from the city, as the general would not be responsible for the preservation of the city itself should news arrive of any harm to these foreign representatives. For themselves, they were relieved from their offices, as the city was to be put under martial law.

When the winter opened it found Boston turned into a British fortress, without a trace of self-government left, with its streets guarded by detachments of British soldiers, and all its public affairs administered by a board of British officers. Nevertheless, there was better order and less suffering under the management of these foreign invaders than were experienced in any of the cities in which the revolutionists retained control. Business revived under the stimulus of the presence of a large army, and merchants, despite the menace of Admiral Seymour’s warning, which still hung over the city, felt more confidence than they had known for many a month. Throughout the rest of the land the control of the revolutionists was supreme, except in some of the rural portions, where small bands, composed of those who had once been the best and most loyal citizens, disputed their rule and maintained themselves by a sort of guerilla warfare.

During the winter several of these bands united in the upper portions of Vermont and New Hampshire, and succeeded in opening communication with others in New York, Ohio, and the Southern States. The old spirit of republicanism was found stronger in the South than in any other portion of the country, and the revolutionists were proportionately weaker there. A considerable force of loyalists was known to be lurking in the mountains of eastern Tennessee. Slowly the hope grew that a combination might be effected between the scattered bands in the North and West and these in Tennessee, which would be recruited rapidly from the South, and which might attain sufficient size to warrant a movement against the revolutionists, now distracted by the British attack. Among the patriots were many officers of the regular army and a considerable number of veterans who had seen service on both sides in the civil war of 1861–1865. Their efforts were devoted to drilling and instructing the loyalists in such simple and rudimentary tactics as could be taught to them individually or at the occasional and secret meetings when a few score could be collected without danger of discovery. With great difficulty and in the face of apparently insuperable obstacles, two armies, of about eighteen and thirty thousand men respectively, were at last collected in northern New England and western New York. If they could be united, and especially if the loyal forces, which were known to have increased to some eight or ten thousand in eastern Tennessee, could be joined with them, and the command of the whole army put into an experienced officer’s hands, it was felt that there was a chance for striking a blow which should inspirit the loyal people all over the country and make possible a general uprising against the brutal and cruel and utterly irresponsible rule of the revolutionists. This scheme was carried out toward the close of the winter in so far as the union of the two northern bands was concerned. But it was found impracticable for them to join the Southern force, or for it to reach them, until spring opened. Before that time other events occurred, which must now be chronicled.