joined in the act of breaking
up the boxes, who disguised themselves as best they could, and some,
chiefly extempore volunteers, were not disguised at all. Hewes himself,
while the crowd rushed down Milk Street, made his way to a blacksmith's
shop, on Boylston's wharf, where he hastily begrimmed his face with a
_soot_-able preparation, thence to the house of an acquaintance near
Griffin's, where he got a blanket, which he wrapped around his person.

When he reached the wharf, there were many there, but no crowd. The moon
shone brightly. From one hundred to one hundred and fifty were engaged.
The whole were divided into three equal divisions, with a captain and
boatswain for each. Hewes's whistling talent--a matter of public
notoriety--procured him the position of boatswain in the party, under
Captain Lendall Pitts, which boarded the brig. Many were fantastically
arrayed in old frocks, red woolen caps or gowns, and all manner of like
habiliments.

One of Pitts's first official acts was to send a message to the mate,
who was in his cabin, for the use of a few lights and the brig's keys,
so that as little damage as possible might be done to the vessel. The
keys were handed over without a word, and he also provided candles. The
three parties finished their separate tasks nearly at the same time, and
without unnecessary delay. A number of sailors and others had joined
them from time to time, and aided them in hoisting the chests from the
hold.

Collecting on the wharf, which was now covered with spectators, a fresh
inspection was instituted, and all the tea men were ordered to take off
their shoes and empty them, which was supposed to be done. Pitts, who
was a military man, and a prominent Son of Liberty, was appointed
commander-in-chief; the company was formed in rank and file by his
directions, with the aid of Barber, Proctor, and some others, and
"shouldering arms,"--such as they had, tomahawks included,--they marched
up the wharf, to what is now the east end of Pearl Street, back into
town, and then separated and went quietly home.

All was done in plain sight of the British squadron, which lay less than
a quarter of a mile distant. Admiral Montagu witnessed most of the
affair from a more convenient point--the house of a Tory, named Coffin,
on Atkinson Street, near the head of the wharf. Raising the window as
they came along, he said, "Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant
evening for your Indian caper, haven't y