From the British camp they saw a group of English lobster-backs marching to the shore-line, their heads bent down revealing the gold piping of their tri-cornered hats. From the tip of their handsomely shod feet to the white powdered wigs under their black hats one could see the pride of their nation. The fife and drum corp marched first, playing a lamenting tune. With them flew the red and blue banner of England, the many stripes that had won for years. Of course, on the shores of Boston Harbour stood many inhabitants and in many places the yellow flag bearing the words, Don't Tread on Me flew in the cold March wind.
Four lone sailors, clothed in his majesty's uniform, picked up groups of regulars and paddled to the waiting man-of war. All was still except the ripples in the water made by the paddles. But for the group of ill-clad men and boys of the continental it was a day that they would remember joyfully for the rest of their lives as the day God sent victory to his people as in the days of old.
When finally all boarded the ships, one hundred and fifty, complete with cannons and gunpowder aplenty, the sailors paddled over to ferry all one-thousand loyalists leaving with them. Fools, I say, to leave all for a lobster-backed tyrant who wished to put under servant-hood all the colonies! Fools, to accompany those puffed up regulars who don't know what real sacrifice is like, as shown on the faces of the rebel patriots who had given up themselves that true freedom might play over America's vast shores; that the only king would be The Lion of Judah. Fools, to leave their "countrymen" to suffer under the hand of a tyrant, until in God's mercy they could prevail.
When the last row-boat was placed upon the tidy decks of the ships, a loud, "Huzzah" was shouted from the onlookers. And when the last British Man-of-War raised her ugly head and sailed off; like a tyrannical sea monster dashing into the waves, only to be seen again, the sound of singing ascended to the departing ships, even a psalm of praise to God. Just then the last war-ship disappeared.
That day was a turning point for Washington and his scanty ten-thousand untrained troops, not prepared but for the help of God for what lay ahead. Trusting his sovereignty they would fight for their King and Country to the death, that freedom might reign. Much honor is due to those noble men and women who watched their enemies flee, and anchor away to Nova Scotia. What joy and what sorrow in the trying times of March 17,1775
