XXI.
THE ESCAPE.
The October days were bright and clear, but the sun shone upon a homeinvaded by sickness. In the Brandon home, Lieutenant Walden was slowlyrecovering. Mrs. Brandon was an invalid, worn down with care andanxiety. Life upon the sea, hardship, and exposure had broughtrheumatism to the joints of Captain Brandon, who was only able tohobble with his cane. One countenance in the home was always brightand cheerful; there was ever a smile upon 'Rinthia's face. AbrahamDuncan was the ever helpful friend, not only ministering to theirwants but giving information of what was going on,--that General Gagehad been called to England, and General Howe was to succeed him ascommander.
"The British soldiers," said Abraham, "are not sorry to have Gage go;they are ready to throw up their caps for General Howe, who showed hisbravery at Bunker Hill, while Gage looked on with his spy-glass fromthe steeple of Christ Church. The soldiers think Gage has been tookind-hearted in permitting you to have charge of Lieutenant Walden.Rebels are not entitled to mercy."
There came a night in October when the people were awakened by thethunder of cannon and the rattle of muskets. In the morning Abrahamsaid that a party of Americans came down Charles River in flatboatsand on rafts, and opened fire upon the troops encamped on the Common.Only one or two were injured, but it gave the British a great fright.
The sound of the strife stirred Robert's blood. He wanted to bethere,--to take part in driving the redcoats into the sea. The thoughtnerved him; but when the uproar died away, he found himself weak, withhis tongue parched and his blood at fever heat. Would strength evercome? Would he ever be able to take part again in the struggle forfreedom?
Day after day there came one to see him, the sound of whose footstepswas more inspiring than the roll of the drums, the touch of whose handgave him strength, whose presence was a benediction. She sat by hisside and read to him from the poets; told him pleasant stories; laidher soft hand upon his brow. When he was a little stronger, she and'Rinthia supported his faltering steps up the stairway to the roof ofthe mansion, where he could sit in the sunshine, gaze upon thebeautiful panorama, inhale the life-giving air from the hills, and theodors wafted from the sea. Across the Charles was the line of yellowearth behind which he went down in the melee. Upon the higher hillwere the new and stronger fortifications constructed by the British.The fields, where so many of the redcoats were cut down by the fire ofthe New Hampshire men, were dotted with white tents. At the base ofthe hill were the blackened ruins of Charlestown. On Prospect Hillwere the earthworks of the provincials. He could not discover anyfortifications on Dorchester Heights, and wondered why either GeneralWashington or the British commander had not taken possession of such acommanding position. The Americans ought to seize it; for, with cannonplanted there, they could drive the warships from the harbor. Hedoubted if General Washington knew the value of the position. He wasable now to go up and down the stairs without assistance; a few moredays, and he would be strong and vigorous. Then what? He was aprisoner, and had not been paroled. If the British were to learn hewas getting well, would they not be likely to send him on board one ofthe ships and pack him off to Halifax? Even if they did not take sucha course, how could he remain there doing nothing. Oh, if he couldonly be with the army again! But were he to go, he must say good-by toher who had saved his life. Why not remain and enjoy the blessednessof her presence? But would she not think him wanting in manliness? Onthe other hand, if he were to make his escape and go back to the army,would he not in a sense be lifting his hand against her father andmother in his efforts to drive the British from Boston? More thanthat, was it not becoming plain, that were the British to go, theTories must also go? for the bitterness between those who stood forthe king and those who supported Congress was deepening. Mr. Newvillesided with the king; he was holding an office under the crown. If theBritish were driven out, he would be compelled to leave, and in allprobability his estate would be confiscated. If he himself were tomake his escape to the army, would he ever again behold the face ofRuth Newville, ever again see the love beaming from her eyes, or feelthe touch of her hand? How could he go and leave her with suchuncertainty before him? And yet, would it not be ignoble to remain? Ifhe could get away, was it not his duty to do so? Was not his countrycalling him?
Captain Brandon learned that General Howe had issued a proclamationthreatening with death any one who might attempt to escape without apermit from himself. "More than this," said Mr. Brandon, "he hasissued another proclamation for us to organize ourselves intocompanies to preserve order. He will furnish us with arms and supplyus with provisions the same as the troops receive. We are commanded toreport to Peter Oliver within four days. Being stiff in the joints, Ishall not comply. Besides, I don't intend to leave such fare as yougive me, Berinthia, for the salt junk and tainted pork doled out tothe soldiers."
Once more there was a familiar step in the hall, and Ruth entered theroom. The rich bloom of other days was once more on her cheeks, theold-time smile illumining her countenance. Her quick perceptiondetected a mind disturbed. They sat down by the fire. She laid herhand in his, and leaned her head upon his shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked, smoothing the troubled brow.
"I have been thinking that I am still a prisoner, liable to be seizedat any moment and sent far away or put in confinement. What ought I todo? Shall I attempt to escape, run the chance of being shot, orcaptured and executed, as threatened by the proclamation? If I makethe attempt and succeed, possibly we may never meet again," he saidwith faltering voice.
"Never meet again! Why not?"
Planning the Escape.]
"I may be captured and hanged. If I reach the army, I shall do what Ican to drive the British from Boston. If we do, the probabilities arethat your father, holding office under the crown, will be obliged toleave the Colony: and his daughter"--
He could say no more. His lips were quivering, and tears coursing hischeeks. Her hand wiped them away; and her arm pillowed his bowed head.
"You are all the world to me. It is for you to say. Shall I go, orshall I stay?" he said.
The words were faintly spoken.
"Go, and God be with you. If it be his will, we shall meet again."
Oh brave heart! The world's redemption rests with such as you!
The busy brain of Berinthia planned the way. The British had seizedall the boats along the wharves, and sentinels were guarding them, butthere was an Indian canoe in the loft of the shipyard. Abraham Duncanwould put it in trim and render all possible assistance.
No tears dimmed Ruth Newville's eyes when she bade him good-by andgave him a parting kiss. Not till she was in the seclusion of her ownchamber were the fountains unsealed. Alone, she gave way to grief, tobe comforted by her faith in One Unseen.
Many soldiers had deserted, so every night, at sundown, sentinelspatroled the wharves, and boats manned by sailors and marines keptvigilant watch in Charles River and far down the harbor. Robert mustgo to the shipyard before sundown and remain secreted till well intothe night. The new moon would go down at nine o'clock; the tide thenwould be half flood. What route should he take? Were he to go directlyup the Charles River to join the army at Cambridge, he must run thegauntlet, not only of three or four of the warships, but of the marinepatrol in the river and the sentinels on both banks. If he were tostrike eastward toward the Mystic, he would encounter the guard inthat direction and the warship Scarborough anchored in the channel.The route up the Charles was most direct and inviting, though besetwith greatest danger.
During the day Abraham placed the canoe beneath the wharf of theshipyard. Bidding his friends good-by, with an overcoat to protect himfrom the cold, Robert made his way to the shipyard, secreting himselfin one of the buildings just before the hour for placing thesentinels. The young tide was already setting up the bay, and a gentlewind blowing from the east, alike favorable for the execution of hisplan; but with the sea-breeze came the fog, thick and dense, shroudingship and shore. He rejoiced in the thought that it would
cover all hismovements and hide him from observation. But upon reflection there wasanother serious and disquieting aspect; how should he make his way andby what objects could he mark out his course? Would he not run uponthe boats of the marine patrol and be hailed by the sentinels on theBoyne, Somerset, and other vessels of the fleet? He must run thechances and do the best he could.
The sentinels had been set along the wharves. The soldier guarding theshipyard was pacing his beat immediately in front of Robert'shiding-place. A thought came; why not seize his musket and have aweapon of defense? Noiselessly Robert opened the door: stealthy hisstep; one wrench, and the weapon was his, greatly to the astonishmentof the surprised and frightened soldier, who saw his own bayonetpointed at his breast and heard the click of the gun-lock.
"Don't fire! Don't fire!" stammered the soldier.
"Take off that belt and cartridge box!"
The soldier obeyed the peremptory order.
"About face!"
Accustomed to obey orders, he faced as directed.
"March!"
Again he obeyed, taking the regulation step as if at drill, Robertfollowing a short distance, then halting while the soldier continuedthe march. With the musket and cartridge box well filled, Robertseated himself in the canoe. He knew the Boyne with seventy guns,Preston with fifty, Phoenix, Lively, Scarborough, Empress of Russia,and several other smaller vessels of the fleet were anchored atdifferent points. He had noted their positions during the day, but inthe darkness and fog could make no calculations in regard to them. Theflowing tide would be his only guide. By drifting with it, he would beborne to the Cambridge shore of the Charles, to General Washington'sarmy, providing he could dodge the ships, floating batteries, andpicket boats. Using the paddle, he struck out from the wharf, peeringinto the mist, his ears open to catch the faintest sound.
"Boat ahoy!"
The startling shout seemed to come from the sky. Looking up he saw thegreat black hull of the Boyne, recognizing the vessel by her tripletier of guns. He was almost beneath the bowsprit.
"Round to under the stern or I'll fire," said the voice.
"Aye, aye, sir!" Robert replied.
While drifting past the ship, so near that he could touch the hullwith his hands, he was deciding what to do. Reaching the stern, with astroke of the paddle the canoe whirled under it, then shot up theother side of the ship into the teeth of the tide, back once more tothe stern, and while the puzzled sentinels on the deck were wonderingwhat had become of the canoe he was disappearing in the fog, thesuccess of his strategy giving zest to his enterprise. He had kept hisbearings as best he could, but was not quite certain of his position,as he drifted once more.
"Boat ahoy! Who goes there?"
The challenge came, not from overhead, but from the fog before him. Abackward stroke arrested his movement. Again the hail and no reply.
"Up with the anchor! Out with your oars!"
Evidently he had drifted upon one of the boats anchored in theferry-way. Paddling away, he suddenly heard the swash of waves, andfound himself approaching a wharf, but on which side the river hecould not say.
"Boat ahoy! Halt, or I'll fire," the hail that came to him.
Peering into the mist, he saw the dim outline of a soldier raising hismusket.
"Hold on. Don't fire. Please point me in the direction of the Boyne,"said Robert.
The sentinel lowered his musket as if saying to himself, "This must beone of the officers of the frigate who has been on shore having a goodtime."
"The Boyne is right out in that direction," said the sentinel,pointing with his musket, "but my orders are not to let any one passalong the wharf after ten o'clock without they give the countersign."
"All right; always obey orders. I'll come to the wharf."
Robert could hear the dip of oars in the fog, and knew it must be thepatrol boat pursuing him. He paddled towards the wharf as if to givethe countersign, but the next moment shot under it as the other boatapproached.
"Boat ahoy!" he heard the sentinel shout.
"Ahoy yourself! We are the patrol. Have you seen a canoe?"
"Yes, and the man inquired where the Boyne was lying, and disappearedquicker than greased lightning when he heard you coming."
Robert was making his way, the while, amid the piles of the wharf. Heknew the tide must be near its full flood, for he had to crouch low inthe canoe, and the barnacles upon the piles were nearly covered withthe water. He doubted if the patrol could follow him. Should he remainsecreted? No. They might light a torch and discover him. Noiselesslyhe paddled amid the piles to the farther side of the wharf, and thenglided from its shelter along the shore, screened from the patrol bythe projecting timbers, and was once more in the stream. He could nolonger be guided by the tide or drift with it. The wind had died away.It was blowing from the east when he started, but now only by wavinghis hand could he ascertain its direction. Whether it had changed hecould not know. It was a welcome sound that came to his ears--theclock on the Old Brick Meetinghouse striking the hour. He thought ofRuth, asleep in her white-curtained chamber so near the bell, and ofher goodness, her brave heart, that bade him go. The tones came to himover his right shoulder, when they ought to be over the left. He mustbe headed in the wrong direction. It was not easy for him to reason itout; yet, if he would reach Cambridge, he must turn squarely round. Itwas plain that he had not made much progress. He knew that severalwarships and floating batteries and picket boats must be lying betweenhis position and the Americans, but he must go on. Suddenly a darkobject loomed before him, and a hail as before came from the deck of aship.
"Come alongside, or I'll fire."
What should he do? He saw a blinding flash. A bullet whizzed over hishead, and the report of the musket awoke the echoes along the shore.It was from the stern of the ship. Again, a flash from the bow, and abullet pattered into the water. Suddenly the light of a torch broughtinto full view a marine holding it over the side of the vessel.Another marine by his side was reloading his musket. A thoughtcame--they had opened fire upon him; why not pay them in the samecoin. Dropping the paddle, he raised the musket he had wrenched fromthe sentinel. The torch revealed the form of him who held it,--a manwith weather-beaten features, hard and cold. He was so near that itwould be easy to send a bullet through his heart. Should he do it? Whynot? Had he not been down to death's door through brutal treatmentfrom the redcoats? Why not take revenge? No, he could not quench lifeforever, bring sorrow, perchance, to some household far away; but hewould put out that torch. He ran his eye along the gun-barrel, pulledthe trigger, and sent the bullet through the upraised arm. The torchfell into the water, and all was dark.
"We are attacked! Beat to quarters," was the shout on the ship.
He heard the roll of drums. Men leaped from their hammocks. There washurrying of feet, rattling of ropes, and shouting of orders. Again amusket flashed and a bullet pierced the canoe, reminding him he wasnear enough to the ship to be seen. A few strokes of the paddle and hewas beyond their aim. Suddenly he discovered the canoe was fillingwith water through the hole made by the bullet. Several minutes passedbefore he could find it, in the darkness; the canoe gradually sinkingthe while. When found, at last, he thrust in his finger and reflectedwhat next to do. It was plain that the leak must be stopped, but how?He could not sit with his finger in the hole and drift wherever thetide might take him. Removing his finger, he would soon be sinking.
"Ah! I have it," he said to himself. It was but the work of a momentto cut a bit of rope from the coil at his feet and thrust it into theopening, stopping the leak.
But the canoe was water-logged; how should he get rid of it? To scoopout with the paddle would attract attention and bring the whole patrolto the spot; there was a better way.
"I'll use my hat for a bucket," he said to himself.
He bailed the canoe and reloaded the musket, drifting the while. Wherehe was he could not determine. Suddenly a musket flashed, high up inthe air, and a bullet fell into the water by his side. He
could seethe faint outline of topmasts and yard-arms, and the figure of a manupon the shrouds. He aimed as best he could and pulled the trigger.
"I'm shot!" were the words that came to him through the mist.
"Give 'em the six-pounder with grape," said a voice, followed by ablinding flash, a swish in the water, the roar of a cannon. It hadbeen fired at random, and he was unharmed. Once more he used thepaddle, wondering what next would happen.
What the meaning of that flash in the distance? What that plunge inthe water not far away? What that deep, heavy roar reverberating alongthe shore? Surely it must be a shot from General Washington's cannon.And now all around he heard voices, and boatswains' whistles. Soon thegreat guns of the warships were flashing; shot were plunging into thewater, and shells bursting in the air.
"I have kicked up a big racket," said Robert to himself as he listenedto the uproar.
What should he do? The tide was beginning to ebb. Why not go with itdown the harbor, reach one of the islands, wait till daylight, andthen shape his course, instead of attempting to pass the picketspatrolling the river with everybody on the alert. While the cannonwere flashing he drifted with the ebbing tide. Another dark objectsuddenly loomed before him, but no hail came from its deck. Plainlyit was one of the transports. Another, and still no hail. Thecannonade was dying away; suddenly, bells all around him werestriking. He must be in the midst of the fleet of transports; it wasfour o'clock, the hour to change the watch. He heard once more thebell of the Old Brick,--he could tell it by its pitch. Wind, tide, andthe meetinghouse bell enabled him to calculate his position: he couldnot be far from the Castle; he resolved to make for DorchesterHeights.
Day was breaking and the fog lifting. In the dawning light he shapedhis course. No patrol challenged him. Through the rising mist hediscerned the outline of the shore and heard the gentle ripple ofwaves upon the beach. To leave the canoe was like bidding good-by to afaithful friend, but with cartridge-box and musket he stepped ashoreand soon found himself upon the spot which he had scanned with thetelescope from the Brandon home.
It was plain that he had not miscalculated its value as a militaryposition,--that cannon planted there could plunge their balls upon thegreat fleet of transports, or upon a vessel attempting to enter ordepart from the harbor. He descended the western slope of the hill,reached a narrow path leading across the marsh land, and made his wayto Roxbury, to be warmly welcomed by General Nathanael Greene.
"You must tell General Washington about Dorchester Heights. I am goingto dine with him to-day, and you must go with me," said GeneralGreene, who informed Robert that Lieutenant Robert Walden was supposedto have been killed about the same time that Doctor Warren fell.
"But I am here and ready to give an account of myself," Robertreplied.
It was a pleasure to be in the saddle once more,--to ride with GeneralGreene along the works which his troops had constructed. Theydismounted at the house of Mr. Vassall in Cambridge, where GeneralWashington had established his headquarters. The commander-in-chiefwas pleased to welcome him and listen to his story.
Washington's Headquarters.]
"I think, General Washington, that if cannon could be planted therethe British fleet could be driven from the harbor. It is a high hilland very commanding. Troops ascending it would do so in the face of aplunging fire from those on the summit. It occurred to me whilestanding there, that if hogsheads were to be filled with stones andsent rolling upon an assaulting force, it would be an effective meansof defense."
"You must dine with me to-day, Lieutenant Walden. I want Colonel Knox,who commands the artillery, and who is to be here with his estimablewife, to hear what you have to say."
It was a pleasure to meet Colonel Henry Knox and Mrs. Knox.
"We all thought you went down in the melee at Bunker Hill, and yethere you are," said Colonel Knox.
"Yes, and ready to do what I can to drive the redcoats into the sea."
Mrs. Knox was delighted to hear from her old-time associate, BerinthiaBrandon. She said that Tom was giving a good account of himself. Therewere tears in the eyes of all when he told them how Miss Ruth Newvillehad used her influence, she the daughter of a Tory, to save him.
"That is the noblest type of womanhood," said General Washington."Perhaps," he added, "you may wish to visit your parents for a fewdays, but a little later I shall desire you to assist Colonel Knox inexecuting an important trust."
"I am ready to do what I can in any capacity for which I am fitted,"Robert replied.
* * * * *
A flag of truce went out from the headquarters; among the letters topeople in Boston was one directed to Miss Ruth Newville. Thered-coated officer who inspected the letters read but one word.
"Safe."
To her who received it the one syllable was more than a page offoolscap.
Daughters of the Revolution and Their Times Page 24
