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place。 That would excite suspicion at any time； particularly at a period so
remote from the Fourth of July。
There were only three stores in town licensed to sell powder； that gave
each store four customers。 Not to run the slightest risk of remark； one boy
bought his powder on Monday； the next boy on Tuesday； and so on until
the requisite quantity was in our possession。 This we put into a keg and
carefully hid in a dry spot on the wharf。
Our next step was to finish cleaning the guns； which occupied two
afternoons； for several of the old sogers were in a very congested state
indeed。 Having completed the task； we came upon a difficulty。 To set off
the battery by daylight was out of the question； it must be done at night； it
must be done with fuses； for no doubt the neighbors would turn out after
the first two or three shots； and it would not pay to be caught in the
vicinity。
Who knew anything about fuses？ Who could arrange it so the guns
would go off one after the other； with an interval of a minute or so
between？
Theoretically we knew that a minute fuse lasted a minute； double the
quantity； two minutes； but practically we were at a stand…still。 There was
but one person who could help us in this extremity…Sailor Ben。 To me was
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assigned the duty of obtaining what information I could from the ex…
gunner； it being left to my discretion whether or not to intrust him with our
secret。
So one evening I dropped into the cabin and artfully turned the
conversation to fuses in general； and then to particular fuses； but without
getting much out of the old boy； who was busy making a twine hammock。
Finally； I was forced to divulge the whole plot。
The Admiral had a sailor's love for a joke； and entered at once and
heartily into our scheme。 He volunteered to prepare the fuses himself； and
I left the labor in his hands； having bound him by several extraordinary
oaths…such as 〃Hope…Imay…die〃 and 〃Shiver…my…timbers〃…not to betray us；
come what would。
This was Monday evening。 On Wednesday the fuses were ready。 That
night we were to unmuzzle Bailey's Battery。 Mr。 Grimshaw saw that
something was wrong somewhere； for we were restless and absent…minded
in the classes； and the best of us came to grief before the morning session
was over。 When Mr。 Grimshaw announced 〃Guy Fawkes〃 as the subject
for our next composition； you might have knocked down the Mystic
Twelve with a feather。
The coincidence was certainly curious； but when a man has committed；
or is about to commit an offence； a hundred trifles； which would pass
unnoticed at another time； seem to point at him with convicting fingers。
No doubt Guy Fawkes himself received many a start after he had got his
wicked kegs of gunpowder neatly piled up under the House of Lords。
Wednesday； as I have mentioned； was a half…holiday； and the
Centipedes assembled in my barn to decide on the final arrangements。
These were as simple as could be。 As the fuses were connected； it needed
but one person to fire the train。 Hereupon arose a discussion as to who was
the proper person。 Some argued that I ought to apply the match； the
battery being christened after me； and the main idea； moreover； being
mine。 Others advocated the claim of Phil Adams as the oldest boy。 At last
we drew lots for the post of honor。
Twelve slips of folded paper； upon one of which was written 〃Thou art
the man；〃 were placed in a quart measure； and thoroughly shaken； then
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The Story of a Bad Boy
each member stepped up and lifted out his destiny。 At a given signal we
opened our billets。 〃Thou art the man；〃 said the slip of paper trembling in
my fingers。 The sweets and anxieties of a leader were mine the rest of the
afternoon。
Directly after twilight set in Phil Adams stole down to the wharf and
fixed the fuses to the guns； laying a train of powder from the principal fuse
to the fence； through a chink of which I was to drop the match at midnight。
At ten o'clock Rivermouth goes to bed。 At eleven o'clock Rivermouth
is as quiet as a country churchyard。 At twelve o'clock there is nothing left
with which to compare the stillness that broods over the little seaport。
In the midst of this stillness I arose and glided out of the house like a
phantom bent on an evil errand； like a phantom。 I flitted through the silent
street； hardly drawing breath until I knelt down beside the fence at the
appointed place。
Pausing a moment for my heart to stop thumping； I lighted the match
and shielded it with both hands until it was well under way； and then
dropped the blazing splinter on the slender thread of gunpowder。
A noiseless flash instantly followed； and all was dark again。 I peeped
through the crevice in the fence； and saw the main fuse spitting out sparks
like a conjurer。 Assured that the train had not failed； I took to my heels；
fearful lest the fuse might burn more rapidly than we calculated； and cause
an explosion before I could get home。 This； luckily； did not happen。
There's a special Providence that watches over idiots； drunken men； and
boys。
I dodged the ceremony of undressing by plunging into bed； jacket；
boots； and all。 I am not sure I took off my cap； but I know that I had hardly
pulled the coverlid over me； when 〃BOOM！〃 sounded the first gun of
Bailey's Battery。
I lay as still as a mouse。 In less than two minutes there was another
burst of thunder； and then another。 The third gun was a tremendous fellow
and fairly shook the house。
The town was waking up。 Windows were thrown open here and there
and people called to each other across the streets asking what that firing
was for。
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〃BOOM！〃 went gun number four。
I sprung out of bed and tore off my jacket； for I heard the Captain
feeling his way along the wall to my chamber。 I was half undressed by the
time he found the knob of the door。
〃I say； sir；〃 I cried； 〃do you hear those guns？〃
〃Not being deaf； I do；〃 s