A Close Call for a Redcoat in Plymouth, 1775

In earlier posts, we’ve explored how British troops were stationed in Marshfield during the winter of 1775 to protect the town’s large Loyalist population. These soldiers were an uneasy presence in a colony on the brink of revolution, and tensions only grew when they ventured beyond Marshfield. British officers were often granted leave to visit nearby towns, and many took advantage of their rank and connections to enjoy the hospitality of Loyalist families—especially in Plymouth, where a few prominent residents still remained loyal to the Crown. Officers were welcomed into these homes for dinner, conversation, and strategic discussion.

Plymouth’s patriots had long been resisting the Crown’s policies and quietly preparing for the storm they knew was coming. But now, instead of progress toward liberty, they found red-coated soldiers walking their very streets. How had it come to this?

The commanding officer of the British garrison in Marshfield was among those who made visits to Plymouth. Captain Nesbit Balfour, a Scottish officer in the British Army’s 4th Regiment of Foot, was relatively young but already known for his discipline and leadership. He would later distinguish himself in the southern campaigns of the Revolutionary War. During the winter of 1775—possibly in March, 250 years ago—Balfour and several fellow officers traveled to Plymouth to dine at the home of Edward Winslow Jr.

Winslow came up in the previous post about Plymouth County loyalists. His father had built a grand home at the end of North Street—what we now know as the Mayflower Society House, though it looked very different in 1775. Edward Jr. lived there at the time, a man of wealth, status, and strong convictions. Like his father, he was a staunch Loyalist—but the younger Winslow was especially vocal, and his views had made him increasingly unpopular with his neighbors. By that winter, he was becoming one of the most controversial figures in town. He didn’t help the situation by opening his home to red-coated guests.

On this particular occasion, Captain Balfour was not merely in Plymouth for a meal—he arrived with a plan, one that carried the potential for historic consequences. Seated around the table with several of Plymouth’s most prominent Loyalist gentlemen, Balfour steered the conversation toward military strategy. He asked whether they believed it would be wise for him to march his company of guards into the town. It seems Balfour was eager to suppress the growing unrest in notoriously rebellious Plymouth, and a successful show of control here might have advanced his career. It was a bold proposal—and a dangerous one.

As the discussion unfolded, one of the guests, Mr. John Watson, remained quiet. Balfour noticed.

After dinner, he pulled Watson aside and pressed him. “Mr. Watson,” Balfour said, “I observed that you gave no opinion respecting my proposal. I should be glad to have your opinion and advice on the subject.”

Watson didn’t mince words. “It is my opinion that it will not be prudent to bring your company here,” he said. “For the people are in a state of great excitement and alarm.”

Balfour raised an eyebrow. “Will they fight?” he asked.

Watson’s answer came fast and firm: “Yes—like devils.”

That was enough to convince the captain. The idea was quietly dropped. Tensions in Plymouth were already dangerously high, and the presence of British troops in the streets might be the spark that lit the fire.

Indeed, the town’s temper was already nearing the boiling point. About the time of Balfour’s visit, another British officer visited Plymouth. But this time, things did not go smoothly.

According to Revolutionary War veteran and historian Dr. James Thacher, the officer was walking through town when a confrontation occurred. The officer reportedly drew his sword and threatened a local man. Whether the threat was real or exaggerated, word spread fast. A crowd of angry Patriots quickly assembled, determined to stand up to this act of tyranny.

The officer, suddenly aware of the danger he was in, fled into the apothecary shop of one Dr. Hicks—a known Loyalist in town. But the Patriots weren’t satisfied. They surrounded the shop and demanded the officer surrender his sword.

When he refused, they stormed in, seized it, and hacked it to pieces on the spot. It was a symbolic gesture, a message, plain and sharp: British rule was no longer welcome here.

Thacher recorded the story as it was told to him by Captain W. Weston, who had witnessed the entire scene. Weston even claimed to have kept a piece of the broken sword as a memento. If only it still survived somehow.[1]

All this was yet another sign that things were rapidly unraveling. The King’s soldiers may have still been in Massachusetts, but they were no longer in control—especially not in Plymouth.

Tensions had reached a dangerous pitch and it must have been clear to all that some sort of breaking point was near. But what would that be?

[1] James Thacher, History of the Town of Plymouth: From Its First Settlement in 1620, to the Present Time (Boston: Marsh, Capen & Lyon, 1835), 205-207. Also, Justin Winsor, History of the Town of Duxbury, Massachusetts: With Genealogical Registers (Boston: Crosby & Nichols, 1849), 129.