Bates House, Scituate
By David Kessler
Some stories aren't captured by the standard ship's log
Drew and I sailed in his Tartan 27, "Gray Dawn", from Salem down to Scituate over Memorial Day weekend, 2006. Winds were light at the start of the trip, but somewhere off of Boston they picked up and got progressively stronger right up until we reached Scituate harbor, so we made a decent overall time on that bright, sunny day.
In Scituate we met up with a couple of his friends, took an afternoon sail, and had some dinner on shore before splitting up - his friends back to their B&B and us back to Gray Dawn. We got some sleep, and early the next morning we took the launch to shore to find breakfast before starting back north for Salem.
Scituate does have a decent doughnut shop near the town dock, but it's small and tucked away... and we didn't find it. We found a Dunkin' Donuts but figured that there had to be something better somewhere in town (how can you have a harbor and not have a greasy spoon of some sort? we thought).
As we were walking toward the north end of town, Drew mumbled something, and then asked me if I had ever heard of a Rebecca and Abigail Bates. The names were familiar, but I was still waking up and so couldn't recall why. I followed his eyes to the small, yellow house we were walking by. It was set back slightly from the road, and on the side of the house was a plaque which read:
HOME
of
Rebecca and Abigail Bates
Heroines in the War of 1812
Ah yes, I said, and began telling him the story of how the lighthouse keeper's daughters managed to repel a party of redcoats using a combination of musical instruments and pluck, and that this was how these 2 could be war heroes in a time when women didn't regularly get that distinction.
Drew was a little surprised that I had so many facts of the story ready to tell (especially before breakfast), and asked how I knew the story.
As an explanation I sang him the 2 choruses of "American Army of Two". I first heard this song almost one year earlier while getting the Gloucester Hornpipe & Clog Society ready for their Harborfest concert on George’s Island. They played again that day as part of their first show (an obvious choice for Independence Day weekend). I had hardly thought about it since, but apparently enough of the song had remained in my memory to be useful that morning.
So for those stories that aren't captured by the standard ship’s log, or by the standard history book, sometimes a good song works just fine.
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![]() photo by Andrew Hillaker |
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