Chapter 10 Outrage and Allegations

GEORGE LITTLE could not believe his eyes. Hours earlier, he had brazenly scolded Commodore Dudley Saltonstall on the deck of the Warren, pressing him to take any defensive action against the approaching enemy. Now, as the timbers of the entire American fleet burned behind him, the young lieutenant watched with incredulity and contempt as Saltonstall committed his last act as commodore—slinging his pack over his shoulder and setting out on foot into the wilderness—abandoning his command, and with it the last chance of expelling the British from Majabigwaduce.

The defeat had been absolute and overwhelming. In a letter of August 23 to General Henry Clinton, the commander in chief of British forces in North America, Francis McLean wrote, “I am happy to inform your Excellency that their destruction has been complete not one having escaped being either taken or burnt.”1

What had begun as a concerted effort to remove a single British outpost from the strategically valuable coastline of Maine had become a military and economic disaster for the Province of Massachusetts and the Rebel cause. With the rout complete, the ugly process of retreat would become the final affront to the doomed mission.

Though Generals Lovell and Wadsworth continued in their attempts to rally the troops, Saltonstall joined more than one thousand Rebel soldiers and sailors in a desperate trek through the Maine woods. Rank and military honor rapidly disintegrated into a battle of personal survival. The escape from the blazing ships and exploding armaments had left them little if any opportunity to gather provisions for the journey home. Though the Kennebec River—the route south to Boston—lay forty miles due west of the Penobscot, confusion and lack of guidance caused many who were unfamiliar with the area to walk aimlessly for days through marshes and thick brush, some barefoot and without food, searching for routes homeward.

“Our retreat,” wrote one soldier, “was as badly managed as the whole expedition had been. Here we were, landed in a wilderness, under no command; those belonging to the ships, unacquainted with the woods, and only knew that a west course would carry us to the Kennebec.”2

Even before the final destruction of the American fleet, Paul Revere had set up camp with a small group of his artillerymen in the relative safety of the woods about a mile from shore. The men cursed the commodore and, lamenting the loss of the entire naval fleet, convinced themselves of the hopelessness of a further stand. There was no sense, they rationalized, in risking lives and property when most of their comrades were giving up the fight and disappearing into the wilderness.

Huddled among the defeated Rebel soldiers, Revere’s thoughts no doubt turned to home and to the comforting arms of his wife, Rachel. A year earlier, while in Newport for the second Battle of Rhode Island, he had written to his “dear girl” how “very irksome [it is] to be separated from her, whom I so tenderly love, and from my little lambs.”³ With eleven young mouths to feed back in Boston, Revere’s priorities were starkly clear. Hours earlier as Revere lodged aboard the Pigeon, General Lovell had informed him that he intended to gather what men he could to establish defensive positions against the enemy. Now, plainly believing that all was lost, Paul Revere began the slow journey home.

As Revere and his men melted into the Maine woods together with the majority of the American force, Peleg Wadsworth tried to gather whatever remaining troops he could collect in a final stand against the British marauders. He had intended to rescue what was left of the Rebel artillery and ammunition and to position it against Collier’s fleet as it made its way up the river in an attempt, perhaps, to salvage the expedition. The effort proved difficult. “[S]ome of the Militia had passed before I came up,” Wadsworth would later write. “[O]thers had sheared off to prevent being Stopped; and the rest although: much fatigued had not lost their Eagerness for returning home, & in spite of every Order & precaution, after drawing provisions skulked off . . .”4

Wadsworth now recognized that his efforts on the Penobscot River were fruitless. Unable to locate General Lovell for further orders, who was at that time four or five miles upriver, and powerless to gather his scattered troops, he decided to make his way west to Camden to set up headquarters and regroup his army. Along the way, Wadsworth came upon hordes of Maine militiamen who did their best to avoid him. Despite maddening difficulties in rallying the exhausted men, he was, astonishingly, able to gather the officers of five companies who, in turn, influenced their troops to establish defensive posts at the surrounding towns of Belfast, Camden, and Townsend. There the militia provided local inhabitants with much-­needed protection against Tory incursion, and they encouraged the population to organize and stand against the enemy.⁵

Meanwhile, the hapless American retreat had left General Lovell nearly despondent. He had felt it his duty to remain and fight while most of his army had fled; but with the burning of the entire navel fleet and the dispersal of his men from the shores, he soon grasped the hopelessness of the situation and dejectedly ordered “every man to shift for himself.”⁶

Still, conscience did not allow Lovell to leave the area without achieving some material success. He had learned that the Penobscot Indians, who had by and large sided with the American effort at Majabigwaduce, were now “in a fluctuating mood”⁷ by what they felt was a dishonorable flight and had begun to switch sides and turn against the Rebels. Lovell accordingly traveled north up the Penobscot River with eight of his remaining officers in an attempt to confer with tribal leaders and negotiate a permanent truce in the region. Finding that the majority of the native population had fled ninety miles north of the river mouth to their upper villages, Lovell followed undeterred and soon met and successfully reestablished peaceful relations with the local tribes.⁸ Despite Lovell’s puzzling decision to travel upriver to negotiate with the Indians without consent or order from the council while the bulk of his army toiled in the Maine wilderness, he considered these pursuits to be “a matter of utmost importance.”9 Deeming that nothing further could be accomplished militarily on the Penobscot and discovering “a universal uneasiness among the Indians” that had led to “outrages which drew terrible Apprehensions on the Inhabitants,” Lovell felt compelled to “negotiate matters with them, and effectually [secure] them to our Interest.”¹⁰

As Wadsworth labored to defend the towns and villages of the eastern country and Lovell sought out peace with local Indian tribes, the bulk of the American force scattered westward through an untamed and trackless wilderness toward the settlements along the Kennebec River. Without adequate provisions or guidance, many of the men found themselves starving and lost in the wilderness for days—and some perished during the ordeal. Some of the local militiamen knew the country well, but in the confusion of flight, few were employed as guides. “We had no one to direct, so every one shifted for himself,” wrote Thomas Philbrook. “Some got to their homes in two days, while the most of us were six or seven days before we came to an inhabited country.”¹¹ Paul Revere and several of his artillerymen had joined a large party of other soldiers and sailors in the Maine woods and stumbled their way on foot through the backcountry. With dwindling food and supplies, Revere arrived on the night of August 19 at the makeshift refugee camp that had taken hold at Fort Western on the banks of the river.

An early staging point for Benedict Arnold’s 1775 assault on Quebec, Fort Western, built at the head of the river’s navigation on the site of present-­day Augusta, served more as a storehouse in support of nearby Halifax than a military or tactical station. As hundreds of starving, exhausted refugees of the Penobscot Expedition poured into the outpost, those manning its galley struggled to feed them.

The forty-­four-­year-­old Revere was unaccustomed to the rigors of frontier existence. He had spent nearly all of his life in the bustling city of Boston and had dedicated himself to the trades and social clubs of Boston’s North End. With little or no experience as a trapper or backwoodsman, Revere staggered into Fort Western after the grueling three-­day journey, insect bitten and limping badly. Revere would state that “he was so lame he could walk no further . . .”12

At Fort George, celebratory volleys of cannon fire filled the air as word spread of the destruction of the American force. With the Rebel guns now silent, jubilant soldiers and sailors of His Majesty’s service paused in reflection of the occasion. Sergeant Lawrence of the Royal Artillery triumphantly wrote in his diary, “Now the Siege is raised, our fears are ended, we will return thanks to God that he has delivered us from outrageous men, and Rebels, such that was commanded by General Lovell.”¹³ John Calef, the Penobscot Loyalist who actively assisted the British cause during the entire siege, added his gloating punctuation mark:

Thus did this little Garrison, with three Sloops of War, by the unwearied exertions of Soldiers and Seamen whose bravery cannot be too much extolled, under the judicious conduct of Officers whose zeal is hardly to be paralleled, succeed in an enterprise of great importance, against difficulties apparently insurmountable, under circumstances exceedingly critical, and in a manner strongly expressive of their faithful and spirited attachment to the interests of their King and Country.¹⁴

Sir George Collier did not join in the approbation of Fort George, or even the rationale for its initial founding. “I can’t perceive one single end a settlement here will answer,” wrote Collier as he recovered from the fever that had besieged him during the journey from New York. “[A]ll the inhabitants are rebels who take an oath to the King today, and another to Congress tomorrow . . . The face of the whole country is as dreary as can be imagined . . . the fort too I think ill placed & I fear won’t be in a state of defense by the time the winter sets in. That fellow Nutting . . . I asked . . . what could possibly induce him to recommend . . . a settlement in such a place, & what advantages might be expected from it? He denied his having ever recommended the measure to Lord Germaine, nor could I learn from him what particular benefits would accrue to us, by keeping possession of so infernal a spot.”¹⁵

Despite Collier’s misgivings, on August 23 he and General McLean issued a new proclamation to those local inhabitants who had assisted the Rebel cause during the Penobscot Expedition through compulsion or otherwise. Being persuaded by the king’s “most gracious and merciful inclination towards his American subjects,” McLean and Collier promised the continued peaceable possession of lands under the protection of British forces, provided that full and unconditional allegiance again be sworn to the Crown, demonstrated by a joining of arms with the British cause. The beneficent decree also demanded the assistance of all able hands in the completion of Fort George.16

His penchant for compelling the allegiance of colonists notwithstanding, General McLean was, by and large, considered a decent and humane officer who honored the ethics of warfare. At Majabigwaduce, he allowed Colonel John Brewer of the local militia to arrange safe passage for the sick and wounded Rebel soldiers who were unable to escape with their army—and even provided them with food and medical supplies for the journey home.¹⁷

Other examples of his compassion followed. Soon after the American retreat, a British ship ominously sailed into Portsmouth Harbor, New Hampshire, as terrified local inhabitants looked on. Expecting an attack or demand for immediate surrender, the townspeople were quickly relieved to see the crew of the captured New Hampshire privateer Hampden released into the joyous and relieved arms of Portsmouth. General McLean had humanely allowed the Rebel seamen to escape imprisonment and to return home to their families.¹⁸

Nevertheless, respect and admiration for the general was far from universal. Back at Penobscot Bay, the actions of the British army in the wake of the American defeat were described in a petition from the inhabitants of Lincoln County as “the wanton depredations of an insolent & triumphant enemy . . .”¹⁹ McLean’s loyalty proclamation was considered more of an invitation for servitude than a peace offering, and most fled the area with their families. “[T]he inhabitants, men, women & children having fled thro’ the wilderness to the Western parts of the State; leaving behind them their stock, provisions, crops & all they had . . . know not where to set their heads, being destitute of money & every resource of supply to their families, & must cast themselves on the mercy of the country in general, or expect to terminate their present calamities by a miserable death; Many more are following them in similar circumstances,” pleaded the county residents.20 Of those who felt compelled to take the “impious & profane oath contrary to their consciences,” they were, according to a petition for assistance filed with the Massachusetts Council by the residents of Lincoln County, Maine, “driven in like slaves to work . . . & in the meanwhile obliged to find their own supplies & subjected to be cudgelled, kicked, & abused by every petty officer that is set over them.”²¹

Several inhabitants who had been loyal to the Rebel cause saw their homes and barns burned and their cattle plundered, and soon a wail of despair would rise and find its way to Boston. “Our case is very bad,” wrote Reverend John Murray to the Massachusetts Council. “[Hundreds] of families are now starving in the woods—their all left behind them—all will despair—& the Majority will Quit the Country & the rest will revolt if something vigorous be not done to protect them from the insolence of the triumphing foe, who are carrying fire & desolation where they come.”²²

Back at Fort Western, Paul Revere happened upon many of his fellow officers and artillerymen who had fled the inferno on the Penobscot River. The men were exhausted and short on provisions, and they still faced a long and grueling journey home. Unlike the five companies of militia that had traveled to Belfast, Camden, and Townsend at the behest of General Wadsworth to establish defensive posts, the men who stumbled into Fort Western had long abandoned any thought of further battle or fortification.

Revere, who had been limping badly from his westward slog, insisted that he could never complete the trek on foot. He negotiated the purchase of a small boat for the trip back to Boston with several other officers, supplied his men with what money he could spare, and ordered them to march the remaining hundred and fifty or so miles home. He then surrendered command of his company to Captain Perez Cushing.

It would be his last official act of the American Revolution.²³

As the gaunt and demoralized survivors, many barefoot and starving, staggered out of the Maine woods and slowly trickled south, word of the disaster began to spread through the towns and villages between southern Maine and Boston. Individual acts of kindness on the part of local citizens eased the despair of a growing flow of refugees, but the resulting burdens on families and villages sorely tested the endurance of the people. Entire settlements became staging grounds for the sick and wounded.24

But despite personal hardship and fear of pending attack, local residents offered care and comfort to the refugees as their patriotic duty. Meanwhile, Committees of Safety, created as a means to communicate concerns and coordinate defenses between towns (among which Paul Revere had been so actively engaged in earlier years), now passed word of the disaster throughout the region.

Soon local militias and entire towns rallied in defense of expected British reprisals. Reverend John Murray, perhaps in imitation of Revere himself, immediately journeyed around the region “in order to rouze the Country from their present idle despair.”²⁵ He warned citizens and officials of possible British reprisals and engaged local militia units to rally and stand from Portsmouth and Townsend to points as far north as Falmouth, Maine. Georgetown, Massachusetts, was refortified with three hundred armed and ready soldiers from interior sections of the state,²⁶ and despite lack of formal training or accoutrements, militia units rose and stood ground along these vulnerable coastal towns.

Not sixty days earlier, Boston had brimmed with confidence that the coming expedition would drive the British from Majabigwaduce. Massachusetts had assembled the most daunting naval force of the entire war with only a limited appeal for assistance from the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, and privateers cheerfully had accepted bids from investors for a share in what was most assuredly to be the bountiful treasures of conquest.

Now, as the first bandaged and blood-­soaked survivors of the failed expedition wearily limped into the unsuspecting Town of Boston, early word of the disaster began to spread like a venous web throughout the town. Wild reports of vast loss of life, as well as sick and dying men streaming into seaports from Maine to Massachusetts, circulated among citizens and local officials. And soon the names Saltonstall and Revere were whispered in angry and resentful tones. “I have not the least doubt,” Revere later wrote, “but Captain Todd procured [an order for my reprimand] and then sent it to Boston. For my friends, tell me, that they heard of the Order, before I got home, and they have no doubt it came from him.”27 The Penobscot Expedition, wrote one historian, “resulted in disaster so complete, so utterly without excuse, and so thoroughly discreditable to American arms as to make its contemplation without feelings of shame and humiliation impossible.”²⁸

The first official word of the retreat from Majabigwaduce reached the Massachusetts Council on the morning of August 19, three days after the retreat. The dispatch soberly announced that the enemy had been reinforced, demolished the American fleet, and dispersed the Rebel forces into the countryside.²⁹ Immediately, the bewildered councilmen frantically sought to establish communication with General Lovell, unaware of his specific location or his ongoing efforts to secure Indian alliances. They issued orders via carriers charged with locating the general that he establish a post in the area and that he call on local militia units to “secure the Eastern Counties [of Maine] from being plundered and ravaged by our merciless Enemy.”³⁰ Also included with Lovell’s orders was a proclamation written by Samuel Adams urging the freemen of the counties of York, Cumberland, and Lincoln to “Rouse and Stand upon their defence.”³¹

While the Massachusetts Council grappled with the initial accounts of the Penobscot defeat, Peleg Wadsworth, now stationed at Thomaston (south of Camden, Maine), took quill to paper and issued what the council would later describe as the most authentic account of the siege and the humiliating Rebel retreat.³²

“Being uncertain whiter you have yet been informed of the sad catastrophe of your Armament against the Enemy at [Majabigwaduce],” began Wadsworth, “[I] am under the disagreeable Necessity of informing your Honor that . . . the destruction of your Fleet was completed on the forenoon of the 16th Instant and that the army five Companies excepted, are dispersed to their several homes.”³³ What then followed was an eloquent and sorrowful chronicle of the American defeat at Penobscot and Wadsworth’s continuing efforts to defend the local inhabitants against British aggressions.

“Your Honor is doubtless informed,” wrote Wadsworth, “. . . of the Evacuation of the Heights of [Majabigwaduce] by your troops . . . on the approach of a Fleet up the Sound . . . The Wind being very faint and much against us prevented our getting far up the River on the Tide of Flood, till the coming in of the Sea Breeze in the Afternoon which brought in the Enemy’s fleet along with it . . .” Wadsworth then described his dismay at the grounding and burning of the transports. “I had been up a little past our foremost Ships Just at the narrows to find a place for landing . . . but on returning to my great surprise found many of our Transports on fire all deserted & our troops Scatter’d in the Bush in the Utmost Confusion.” Describing the final conflagration of the fleet, Wadsworth wrote, “Our army by this time was thoroughly dispers’d in the Wood and our Ships of War not able to hold their Ground began to Blaze.”34

Final confirmation of the council’s worst fears was sent from Portsmouth on August 22 by Colonel Henry Jackson, whose Continental regiment earlier had been ordered north to reinforce the faltering American expedition. “Lt. Col. Revere this moment arrived from Penobscot . . . ,” wrote Jackson. “[H]e informs us that the whole of our shipping is destroyed, with all the Provisions Ordnance & Ammunition & the whole Army Deserted and gone home—I refer you to him for particulars who sets off for Boston this evening.”³⁵

The depth of loss suffered at Majabigwaduce would permeate the region with a pall of outrage. “A prodigious wreck of property,—a dire eclipse of reputation,—and universal chagrin—were the fruits of this expedition,” wrote Maine historian William D. Williamson. “So great pecuniary damage at this critical period of the war, and of the State finances, was a severe misfortune. In short, the whole connected was sufficiently felt; for it filled the country with grief and murmurs.”³⁶ In a letter to James Lovell, a Massachusetts delegate to the Continental Congress, Abigail Adams lamented what she called “disgrace, disappointment and the heaviest debt incurred by this State since the commencement of the war.”37

While the final official tally of financial loss to Massachusetts as a result of the failed Penobscot Expedition would later be set at £1,739,174,³⁸ a true and accurate accounting of American lives lost at Majabigwaduce seemed to be an elusive measure. High rates of desertion during battle, and the scattering of local militia units through the backwoods of Maine following the retreat, would result in widely varying casualty counts. Though initial reports of a Rebel bloodbath mercifully proved inaccurate, it appeared that no fewer than 150 men had been killed or wounded during battle, with dramatically higher losses occurring during the perilous journey home.³⁹

Though actual casualties would never be tabulated, the loss of property and armament became all too clear. Massachusetts, the maritime pride of colonial America, had lost her entire naval fleet of forty seafaring vessels.

The Penobscot Expedition, which had begun with infinite promise, now had become an insupportable burden on the Cradle of Liberty. Massachusetts had assumed nearly complete responsibility for the endeavor without consent or approval from the Continental Congress. Insurance of private ships, provision of men and weaponry, payment of crews, and (with the exception of three Continental ships) the supply of a naval force all had fallen into the willing lap of the Massachusetts colonial government. With reminders of the dismal failure at Majabigwaduce now pouring into Boston on a daily basis, the entire colony faced the bleak reality of fiscal insolvency. “The Failure of the Expedition . . . to dislodge the Enemy from Penobscot . . .” wrote Jeremiah Powell to the Continental Congress, “keeps our Treasury exhausted.”⁴⁰

Adding to this burden were the ceaseless appeals of those directly affected by the disaster. Measures taken by towns and villages from Maine to Massachusetts in the care of soldiers and refugees, and in the growing fear of counterattack by an emboldened British force, resulted in enormous outlays of money and resources—all of which Massachusetts had agreed to assume to preserve the public credit and confidence. Rhode Island and Connecticut each appealed to Massachusetts for defensive troops and supplies, and a petition to the Massachusetts Council from the Town of Falmouth, Maine, starkly expressed the remaining sentiment of the region: “New applications of various kinds are daily made to us; & new difficulties arise . . . In short affairs here are in the wildest Confusion.”41

Even the Penobscot Indians petitioned Boston for aid. Their tribal representative wrote, “Brothers We rejoice at the Great Spirit which has brought us together at this place . . . I am destitute of Clothes . . . You know [what] the situation of our Families is. We hope you will grant us some Assistance for them.”⁴²

As the economic and psychological impact of the military debacle came into focus, anger began to spread through the streets of Boston. Answers were demanded.

And fingers were pointed.

On August 26, Lieutenant Colonel Paul Revere drifted through the harbor islands in his worn and weather-­beaten boat and into the storm of outrage that had rolled over the port of Boston. He was the first of the expedition’s senior officers to find his way home, and despite mounting gossip about Revere’s conduct at Majabigwaduce, the Massachusetts Council ordered him to resume command of Castle Island.⁴³ Telltale rumors as to the cause of the defeat had preceded Revere, and whispers of scandal and disgrace already had begun circulating among his countrymen. General Lovell had been especially angered that Revere had returned home after the retreat without orders, and according to Revere himself, his nemesis William Todd had sent early word to Boston of the allegation.⁴⁴ Penobscot, Revere would later complain, would provide ample basis for his enemies to plot against him.

On his return to Boston, Revere would discover that the ill will that had developed against him in the prior years at Castle Island had multiplied in his absence, and he quickly came to believe that a conspiracy to tarnish his character had erupted as a result. “They ordered me to take the command of the Castle again . . . But the plan was too deep laid for me to stay there long,” Revere wrote to a friend.⁴⁵

With the removal of the company and artillery from the Castle during the Penobscot Expedition, town officials deemed it an appropriate opportunity to repair and refortify the island garrison. After Revere’s departure for Maine, a committee had been formed for that purpose, and John Hancock, who was at the time not only speaker of the Massachusetts House but also major general of the Massachusetts Militia, was appointed to the team. In early August, Hancock arrived at the island for initial inspections and, after consultation with committee members, reported that conditions at the fort were deplorable and indicative of failed leadership.46

According to Revere, Hancock “found fault with everything there . . . [and] when he went to Boston he told all companys that none but Col. Revere would have left the Castle in such a situation.”⁴⁷ Having had no prior acrimony or known disagreement with Hancock, Revere believed that the speaker had been urged on by his Masonic rival Colonel William Burbeck, who in 1773 had been suspended from the Massachusetts Grand Lodge of Ancient Masons in a bitter battle spearheaded by Revere. Burbeck, a former member of Richard Gridley’s Massachusetts Artillery Regiment, was now the commandant of the laboratory at Castle Island and keeper of its ordnance and, accordingly, had close dealings with Hancock during the restoration work at the Castle.

Buttressed by Colonel Burbeck, Hancock publicly grumbled that Revere had allowed a commissioned fort to remain in an appalling state. He complained that Revere had left mismatched artillery equipment—thereby rendering useless the remaining armaments—and had allowed ankle-­high piles of gunpowder to lie dangerously near the magazines. He alleged that certain wheelbarrows and handbarrows, together with fortress cabins, had been burned without Revere’s knowledge and that no one had been punished for the offence. And he claimed that certain cannon had been taken from the island without orders or authorization. In short, John Hancock and William Burbeck implied that the fortress commander had been guilty of public malfeasance in the maintenance and organization of the Castle Island assets.⁴⁸

Public sentiment in and around the Town of Boston now turned decidedly against Revere. William Todd and Thomas Carnes had brought back from Maine rumors and allegations of Revere’s inattention to duty, refusal of orders, and downright cowardice while on the Penobscot Expedition, and gossip began to envelop the artillery commander. Stories of questionable conduct at Majabigwaduce joined rumors of command incompetence, and soon the once-­heralded “Messenger of the Revolution” found himself shunned by many of his countrymen.

By late August of 1779, a team of citizen volunteers was assembled to make improvements to the fortress at Castle Island in accordance with the committee’s recommendations. In a letter to General Horatio Gates, a fellow officer, Major John Rice, boldly recorded that Revere’s homecoming had “so disgusted the Volunteers who subscribed for repairing and completing the Works, in and about this Town, that they have refused to proceed in this Business until he is removed; they allege that his Conduct upon the Expedition, was very unsoldierlike & very reprehensible . . .”49

Unrepentant and pugnacious as ever, Paul Revere bristled at the growing chorus of condemnation. “I don’t think ever one person suffer’d so much abuse as I have with so little reason.”⁵⁰

As Revere languished under a pall of condemnation in Boston, General Lovell continued his efforts to mollify the region following the devastating defeat at Majabigwaduce. After a long and exhausting journey through Indian tribal country, Lovell made his way by canoe with the help of native guides back down the Penobscot River and through a system of tributaries to the Kennebec. Arriving in Georgetown, Massachusetts, on August 28, nearly two weeks after the defeat at Majabigwaduce, he finally wrote to the council. As Peleg Wadsworth had done, Lovell provided a detailed account of the American retreat as well as a description of his efforts to pacify the Penobscot Indians. But more important, he assured the colony that he had not been killed or taken prisoner by disgruntled natives. “You may depend I shall do everything in my power for the Good of the State,” he wrote in closing.⁵¹

On August 29 Lovell traveled north to Townsend to establish his headquarters. Having received orders from the council to defend and rally the populace, he once again wrote to Jeremiah Powell and provided a detailed plan of action for the protection of the region. Noting that the British were diligently working to fortify their encampment at Majabigwaduce and continually sending expeditionary forces to plunder the area of food and supplies, he insisted that bold defensive action was required. Believing that follow-­up British attacks against the surrounding towns were imminent, he rallied local militias in Falmouth and Camden, as well as in Pemaquid and Belfast, for readiness against aggression. He finalized plans for the fortification of Townsend Harbor and the Kennebec River and sought engineering and supplies for the effort. Until these matters were accomplished, Lovell felt compelled to delay his journey home. “The duty of my country has detained me,” he would write to the council.52

Lovell then set forth a requisition of needs, including men, tools, and weaponry, all of which would be required to raise “a considerable Fortification” at the mouth of the Kennebec River. And noting the pressing need for artillery companies to support his defensive batteries, the general closed his dispatch home with a plea that Paul Revere’s detachment be redeployed back to the area “with all speed.”⁵³

“I should likewise beg,” continued Lovell, “you would give Lt. Col. Revere a very strong reprimand for his unsoldierlike behavior in returning home without orders.”⁵⁴

On August 31 Commodore Saltonstall crept into the Town of Boston like a spectral presence. He refused to give any account of his actions at Majabigwaduce, and he denied the authority of colonial “white-­wigs” (who had never fired a musket in anger) to question any aspect of his conduct.⁵⁵ With sullen contempt, Saltonstall quietly repaired to his quarters, disdainfully eyeing the gathering storm and disinclined to acknowledge its fury.

The fiscal and political situation in Massachusetts quickly degenerated into a firefight of accusations and finger-­pointing. The massive losses of the failed expedition left the state with an enormous emotional and economic time bomb, which the Massachusetts Council sought mightily to defuse. Though the operation had been undertaken without federal assistance, Massachusetts now turned, hat in hand, to the Continental Congress for subvention.

“With disagreeable Sensation I now acquaint you that the Expedition to Penobscot (of which we had formed pleasing prospects of great good accruing to the United States) has proved abortive,” wrote Jeremiah Powell to John Jay.56 Asserting a strong national interest in dislodging the British from the strategic ground of Majabigwaduce, the petition claimed that the operation was “of such Importance to the United States as well as to our allies that . . . we doubt not it will meet the Approbation of Congress although it has proved unsuccessful.”⁵⁷

It would be the first in a series of pleas to the national government that would continue for years.

Paul Revere would maintain steadfastly that his enemies were eager to provide Massachusetts with a ready scapegoat for the devastating failure of the Penobscot Expedition. The economic loss and festering public anger would demand no less. He believed that the committee in charge of the Castle Island cleanup would stop at nothing to have his command revoked, and he confessed bewilderment at the events unfolding before him. “[I]n short,” he would write, “every thing that could be said to my disadvantage was said, when the very reverse was true.”⁵⁸

One morning in early September, as the bulk of the remaining Rebel forces arrived home from Maine, Captain Thomas J. Carnes brazenly ascended the steps of the Massachusetts Council Chamber armed with a provocative and explosive accusation. In an informal meeting with council members, Carnes insisted that Paul Revere had personally failed to come ashore with his men at Majabigwaduce and that his overall conduct during the Penobscot Expedition had been nothing short of deplorable. Sanctions, Carnes implored, should be imposed against him.

Captain Carnes, a battle-­tested former artilleryman in the Continental Army, was perhaps the perfect candidate to level the incendiary charges. He had been captured by the British at Fort Washington in 1776 and endured brutal captivity before being released in a prisoner exchange. He was present during Bunker Hill and the British siege of Boston, and he had borne the hardships of Valley Forge.59

At Majabigwaduce, Carnes had led his company of Massachusetts Marines up the ragged heights north of Dyce’s Head, and after taking possession of the high ground and setting up defensive positions, he had occasion to observe Colonel Revere’s actions. With activity between the beachhead and the heights becoming furious and with men and equipment shuttling back and forth among positions, Carnes had watched with mounting incredulity as Paul Revere left his men and went on board a transport vessel at breakfast and dinner time.⁶⁰ The incident would fester in the marine captain’s mind, and he watched Revere intently for the remainder of the expedition.

Revere still had friends in positions of government, though, and no sooner had Carnes leveled his indictment than word traveled to the accused. Revere seethed with anger and fixed his mind on the full range of possible foes capable of stooping to such depths. He would claim that Carnes was nothing short of the vengeful spearhead of a conspiratorial plan to disgrace him.⁶¹ He carefully deliberated on his actions at Majabigwaduce and, though confessing to little if any sharp military engagement during the siege, indignantly concluded that the failure was not his to bear. “[B]efore we sailed,” he would later write, “[the Council was] advised . . . to send at least 3,000 men, and they were advised to apply for continental troops. But the most they ordered was 1,600, and there never was 900, and one third of them were boys and old men.”⁶²

The brazen attack upon his character—Revere’s most cherished possession—could not be permitted to stand without challenge. In a sharply worded yet obsequious statement to the council, Revere protested his innocence and demanded the opportunity to confront his accusers in a formal setting.

“I feel the highest obligations to Your Honors for Your Candor to me, when the popular clamor, runs so strong against me,” Revere began. “Had your Honors have shown as little regard for my character as my Enemies have done; Life would have been insupportable. Were I conscious that I had omitted doing any one thing to Reduce the Enemy, either through fear, or by willful opposition, I would not wish for a single advocate,” he continued. “I beg your Honors, that in a proper time, there may be a strict enquiry into my conduct where I may meet my accusers face to face.”63

The council recognized that the off-­the-­record sparring regarding Revere’s conduct at Majabigwaduce amounted to little more than idle gossip. Formal charges, if there were to be any, had to be drawn and placed before an authoritative body in order to join the issues; and accordingly, Carnes was instructed by the council to file his written complaint or, alternatively, let the matter die.

The response was swift. On Monday, September 6, Captain Carnes delivered his official statement of charges against Paul Revere.

Gentlemen

Being Requested to Lodge a complaint against Lt. Colonel Paul Revere, for his behavior at Penobscot—Which I do in the following manner Viz:

First. For disobedience of orders from General Lovell in two Instances, Viz, when ordered to go on shore with two eighteen pounders, one twelve, and one four & One howitzer, excused himself.

Second. When ordered by Major Todd at the retreat to go with his Men and take said Cannon from the Island, refused, and said his orders were to be under the Command of Gen. Lovell during the expedition to Penobscot, and that [when] the siege was raised, he did not consider himself under his Command.

Thirdly. For neglect of Duty in Several instances.

Fourthly. For unsoldierlike behavior, During the whole expedition to Penobscot, which tends to Cowardice—

Fifthly. For refusing Gen. Wadsworth, the Castle barge to fetch some men on shore from a Schooner, which was near the enemy’s ships on the retreat up the River.

Sixthly. For leaving his men, and suffering them to disperse and taking no manner of Care of them.

T. J. Carnes

Sept 6, 177964

Within hours of Carnes’s official filing, Lieutenant Colonel Paul Revere received orders, attested by John Avery, secretary of the Massachusetts Council, to resign his command of Castle Island and the other fortresses of Boston Harbor immediately, to confine himself to his home in Boston, and to remain there by order of law until a full investigation of the charges was completed.⁶⁵