Great Musket Mystery

Written by Tammy Miller, Published on 10/30/2008, Re-published on 4/23/2010

My first experience of war was in April 1775. Revolutionaries had just taken control of each of the British North American colonies and set up the Second Continental Congress. Royalists, upon hearing a Continental Army had been formed, were not happy. They made preparations to send regiments to Concord to capture inventory supplies and squash the rebel movement. Dr. Joseph Warren received word of the impending invasion and alerted colonists.

As quickly as possible all able-bodied men between the ages of 16 and 60 were being mobilized to fight, some of these men were Minutemen, who promised to be ready within two minutes when called. I was to become one of these Minutemen and fight in many of the Revolutionary battles, but this is not where my story begins. My story begins with the very first battle that marks the beginning of the American Revolutionary War, the Battle of Lexington and Concord Little did we know at the time that our little hut, along with many others between Charlestown and Lexington, would become the first militia fortresses.

April 18, 1775

The sun had just risen, word of a coming battle had spread like wild fire through these parts days before. There were four of us in the hut: Stevie Brown, a new lodger; Lyle Day, a friend from a nearby town who had been forced to stay the with us after the loss of light made the continuation of his long journey too dangerous; Mary Wright, the Walton's maid who had been abandoned and left for dead in a neighboring house; and, of course, myself. My mother and sister were on their yearly pilgrimage to get supplies for the laundry and were not due back for at least another week. I was pleased that fate had somehow managed to remove them from this tense situation.

As always I was the second to rise. Stevie always got up at 3 a.m. to help with the milking on a nearby farm. This morning was a little different: I was keeping watch after Revere had ridden past with a warning that the red coats were on their way. I must have accidentally dozed off for a little while as I sat watching out the kitchen window. I went about the morning task of getting wood for the fire to prepare the morning meal. I had prepared and loaded my musket the night before and, as I did every night, left it by the door. There was something eerie about this morning – something I couldn't quite put my finger on – but, all the same, I continued my morning’s work. That is when I noticed it. The musket was gone. Thinking that maybe I had misplaced it, I started to search the cabin; but after an hour it was still nowhere to be found. As I sat at the kitchen table pondering the whereabouts of my trusty gun, our new lodger, Stevie Brown, walked into the kitchen and plunked himself down in a chair.

“Mornin’ John.”

“How was milkin’ this mornin’?”

“All right until the rain came in and the cows were covered in mud.”

Stevie was at the washbasin washing the mud from his face and hands.

"Yo’ lookin’ a little jumpy this mornin’, my friend,” he said.

Stevie was an old man, but tough as nails and everyone really was his friend.

“I can't find my musket,” I replied, still scanning the room. “I left it loaded by the door last night.”

“Is that right?” Stevie paused deep in thought for a moment. “Are you sure you left it by the door?”

“Positive. I left it by the door last night just like I leave it by the door every night.”

“Well, surely it can't have gone far then, lad.” Just as Stevie started scanning the room, there was a loud creak of the floorboard in front of Mary’s room signaling that Mary was approaching. Mary was looking ragged after last night’s dangerous ride from the Walton's.

“Mornin’. What seems to be the problem?” Mary asked us immediately, noticing our unsettled nature.

“The young lad's musket is missing.”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Mary, as she placed her hand over her mouth. “Are you sure you haven't misplaced it?”

“Positive.” I replied.

“Well, we can't search on an empty stomach, lad. Let’s eat some of that porridge you've been cooking up.”

On Stevie's word we all sat down at the table and started to eat. Suddenly, my friend Lyle came bouncing down the stairs and joined us. I fetched Lyle a bowl of porridge.

“Lyle, I don't suppose you have seen my musket anywhere?”

“Um, nope. Why do you ask?”

“It's missing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

“I'm sure it’s not missing. Come on, I'll help you look, after breakfast.” Lyle was busy shoving porridge into his mouth.

After we finished eating breakfast we all started to look for the musket. We looked everywhere in the hut but there was no sign of it.

“Maybe you left it outside, John. Come on, we'll take a look.”

I stepped on to the porch with Lyle, where we put our shoes on.

“Just a minute, John. I forgot my hat.” Lyle quickly ducked back into the hut and I could hear Mary yelling at him for bringing in mud on his shoes. Stevie followed Lyle out of the hut.

“The woman has gone mad in there, cleaning. Think I'll help you lads.” So Lyle, Stevie and I continued our search outside, while Mary continued with her cleaning frenzy inside the hut. The clock struck three in the afternoon and the musket had still not been found.

“I'm sorry, lad. I need to push off for a bit. I'll have to help you later.” Stevie was starting to walk over to the stable.

“Oh no, you don't,” I said. “How do I know you don't have the musket? If I let you go now you'll go riding off into the sun with my musket and never come back.”

I stood in Stevie's path.

“Come on, lad. We both know I ain't got your gun.”

“No, we don't; so you ain't goin’ anywhere until it's found.”

“Come on, John,” Lyle said. “Be reasonable. Stevie don't have your gun, I don't have your gun and Mary don't have your gun. You've put it somewhere and forgot. Stevie's right: it's getting late. I had better head back home before I lose the light again and get stuck here for another night.”

“Oh, right, Lyle.” I slapped him on the back. “But you, my friend, aren't going anywhere.” I turned to Stevie.

“Well, if I ain't going nowhere then he ain't goin’ nowhere. How do we know he ain't taken your gun?"

“Lyle and I have been friends since I got to this place. I know he would never do a thing like that to his buddy. You, on the other hand, have only just started lodging with us.”

“Come on, John: you know I'm a good man. All right, if it makes you feel better, lets all sit down and track our last movements. You first, John.”

“OK. Well, at about 9 p.m. last night I rode over to the Walton's to fetch Mary. Mary and I arrived back at the hut at about 10 p.m. I show Mary to her room, then I come back downstairs, clean and load my gun and put it by the door. You two fellas are already in bed, so I blow out all the candles and go to bed myself.” Stevie rubbed his chin in thought, and then he looked at Mary.

“Well, after that terrifying ride last night I was exhausted. I went straight to bed after John left me. I didn't hear another word after that.” Still rubbing his chin, Stevie looked at Lyle.

“I was in bed before John left and I was the last to get out. I didn't have a chance to take the gun.”

“Well that only leaves you, Stevie,” I said, accusingly.

“But hang on a minute there, lad. The gun was by the door when I left for milkin’ this mornin’.”

I stopped to think. Stevie left for milking at 3 a.m. and I was woken by a rain-soaked Revere at 4 a.m. He had to shout his warning to me over the sound of the rain pelting on the roof. I still had my gun after Revere had passed by.

As I sat there working the clues over in my head, something dawns on me: the rain. All of a sudden it became clear who took my musket.