And I’m going to have brass tips if you do. Mother said I could have brass tips, too. Now I know I’ll get new boots, he told his little sister Betty. There was no bad tobacco, and not a barrel had been lost. Too much tobacco had been lost, both in the field and in the river. And no one was happier than he when the last cask was on the ship. George almost held his breath until the hogshead was down the bank, across the wharf and aboard the ship. He’s afraid the ropes will cut their hands, said Mrs. He told them to put on their leather gloves. He’s telling the workers something, George. He was watching now as closely as his mother.įather won’t let them roll, he said. Washington watched closely a little distance away.Ī little boy watched with her-a slender, handsome boy, tall for his seven years. The tobacco would be sold there, and the Washington family would live this year on whatever money it brought. They were to be loaded on the vessel waiting at his wharf and taken to England. The barrels were packed with his tobacco, raised on his Virginia plantations. Any hogshead that went wild was a bad loss for him. Now they were holding these ropes-ready to roll when their master gave the signal. Faster and faster! Wilder and wilder! And then with a great splash it would plunge into the deep river.įield hands up on the bank had placed strong ropes around a hogshead. It would get loose from its ropes and go crashing down like a great monster. It was a sight to see-those tobacco hogsheads rolling down the steep bank. Others came from plantations round about. Many came from the little town of Fredericksburg, across the Rappahannock River. They knew the danger, for they came to Augustine Washington’s plantation every year on Loading Day. Move back! the sheriff shouted to the people again. He pointed toward the hogsheads, or barrels, of tobacco ready to come rolling down the hill. The sheriff walked toward the crowd to push some of the people back. The crowd on the shore moved back, but not enough to suit the sheriff. MOVE BACK! Move back! shouted the sheriff.

George Washington by Augusta Stevenson