CHAPTER XXIX
IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH
"... A darker departure is near, The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier."
--_Campbell._
The beautiful sunset retreat was sounding its inspiring notes asPeggy left the guard-house, and slowly made her way across theparade-ground. There was a note of pathos in the strain which seemedpeculiarly impressive, and all at once Clifford's words came back toher:
"I have ever loved martial music." Then, because there seemed naughtelse than waiting before her, she sank down under the tree whereClifford and she had sat that very morning, now so long ago, tolisten to the music that he loved. Suddenly, as she listened, therecame to the girl a dim sort of understanding. There was a permeatingtonal effect in the music, striking at times, merely suggestive atothers, which seemed to breathe the spirit of bivouac and battle, ofsuffering and patriotism, and the yearning of great devotion. A lumpcame into her throat. An indefinable emotion swept her with anappreciation of the spirit of a soldier which renders him happy at thethought of dying in his country's battles. The flood-gates of Peggy'stears were open, and she wept unrestrainedly. Presently Colonel Daytonsaw her sitting there, and came to her side.
"My child," he said sitting down by her, "I have just been in to seeyour cousin. Your visit hath cheered him greatly. He bears upwonderfully. Manly he is, and noble. Never hath a duty been sorepugnant to my feelings as this one is. Were it not just I could notperform it."
"I cannot speak of justice, sir, when my cousin is to die," sobbedshe. "It may be just. I know not. My countrymen are not unkind; theyare not stirred by vengeful thoughts. It must be right, else GeneralWashington would not sanction it; I am but a girl. I do not know. Butoh, sir! to those of us who love my cousin it doth seem that mercyshould temper justice."
"Affection blinds us, Miss Peggy," he said, and sighed. "Under itsinfluence we are apt to forget that other boy to whom not even justicewas given. If men were always just there would be no necessity formercy. Had justice been rendered Captain Johnson your cousin would notstand in need of clemency."
"True," she said. "True. It must be right, since such good men say so.I cannot see it now. All sense of equity is lost to me, lost becausethe victim is my cousin. Some time----" She paused unable to proceed.
Presently she looked up at him. "Colonel Dayton," she said, "it hathoccurred to me that the matter may not end here. That perchance theenemy in reprisal for this--the loss of one of their officers--maywreak vengeance upon one of ours of like rank. That would necessitateanother retaliation; to be followed by still another on the part ofthe enemy. Sir, where will it stop?"
"That very thought hath come to me, child," he said gravely. "And thething is possible. This matter hath distressed General Washingtongreatly. He hath never been so troubled since the treason of GeneralArnold, and the execution of Major Andre. The affair hath beenconsidered impartially by the principal men of the army, by Congress,and by General Washington. Miss Peggy, as there is a God in heaven, webelieve that we are doing right. There is not one of us whoseinclination does not prompt to mercy, but we dare not show it. Thepeculiarly atrocious murder of Captain Johnson cannot be ignored."
"I know, I know," she murmured, passing her hand over her brow, andlooking at him with eyes full of pain. "'Tis strange that Fairfax, whowas my friend, and Clifford, who is my cousin, should both beconcerned in this."
"It is strange and hard, my child. But vex not yourself withquestioning. 'Tis better to accept the inevitable with resignation, asyour cousin hath done. He doth not question the justice of thedecree."
"He is a soldier, sir," she said, "and versed in the law of war."
"He is a gallant gentleman, Peggy. He will meet his doom bravely. Butyou! Would that some of your people were with you."
"If father were but here," she wept. "If father were here to be withhim. 'Tis hard to go to death alone. Oh, sir, thee won't mind ifI----"
"Not to the execution?" he exclaimed hastily.
"Clifford will not permit that, sir. 'Tis only that I may stand at thedoor of the guard-house to give him a last good-bye. He is alone. Hissister would wish it."
"Is it wise, Peggy?" he asked regarding her with deep concern.
"Yes, oh, yes! 'Twill cheer him to have a friendly face near him."
"If it will be of comfort to either of you, it may be done," he saidrising. "Come in, child. Mrs. Dayton must take you in charge."
Obediently Peggy followed him to the house. The colonel's wife wasvery kind, but presently left her, thinking that she slept. It wasstrange that no word had come from Harriet, she mused. Was it possiblethat she had indeed lost all hope after her failure to rescue herbrother? It was unlike Harriet to give up like that. Peggy could notbelieve it. Why then had she not heard? And her father! Perhaps hewas even then speeding toward them. Surely, surely, something mustoccur to prevent this dreadful thing from happening!
The daylight faded. Twilight melted into darkness. From the camp thevoices of the soldiers in song or story floated in to her. Peggy wentto the casement window and stood staring out into the night. Tattoosounded. The noises of the camp died away, for the soldiers' day wasended. Would there never be another day for Clifford? How was hebearing it out there alone in the guard-house? Would his high courageremain with him to the end? That he would die bravely she did notdoubt; but to die!
For what was she watching and waiting? She did not know. She washoping against hope that something would happen to prevent hercousin's death. It was the night which had brought rescue to JohnDrayton at Yorktown the year before. Would it not be as kind toClifford? So Peggy kept her vigil, and the hours passed. Once, theroom grew close, and, faint from watching and grief, she slipped outunder the trees. There was no moon, but the stars kept watch in thesky, twinkling down at her with quiet friendliness.
In the valley the placid river murmured softly. The hills in thedistance seemed but a darker, lower sky lost in the obscurity of thenight. From out of the gloom the tents gleamed ghostly white. It wasso still that she could hear the footsteps of the sentries as theymade their rounds. With the faint streaking of the dawn came a soundthat caused her to flee, horror-stricken, to her room. For the soundwas that of hammering. The gallows was being erected.
And at that awful sound hope fled from the girl's heart. All night shehad waited, hoping, believing, that something would come to preventthe execution. Now she felt that all was over. Clifford must die.
Calmness settled upon her. For with absolute despair came a peace--anumbness that left her insensible to anything save the fact that shemust be brave for Clifford's sake--that he was alone, and she of allhis kindred was there to give him comfort. So Peggy prepared for theordeal before her.
The execution was to take place at nine o'clock. Long before that hourthe people from the countryside gathered. A great concourse offarmers, and citizens from the near-by farms and villages, allconversant with the details of the affair, came to see the unfortunatevictim.
Peggy saw none of them as she went with leaden feet to theguard-house. No one said her nay as she took her position by the door.The guards glanced at her compassionately, awed by the whiteness ofher face, and the awful calmness of her manner. The cousins had cometo be well known in the camp, and there was not a soldier who did notcommiserate the youth's fate.
How fast the moments go when one is expecting a dread event! It seemedthat it could not be time when the drums beat assembly, and thesoldiers filed into place. A squadron of dragoons and a battalion ofsoldiers formed in a hollow square. Within their ranks was a cart inwhich the prisoner was to be taken to the place of execution. Thebitterness of death fell upon her as she watched for Clifford'scoming. She must be brave. Of all his kindred she alone was there tobid him a last farewell. That was all of which Peggy was conscious.She did not know that the military band had taken its position in theprocession, and that the entire Jersey line was forming as for parade.
A stir at the door betok
ened the coming of the prisoner. The dooropened, and two guards appeared. Behind them, with a guard on eitherside, came the unfortunate young man who was to pay the penalty ofanother's crime. He was very white, but composed. As the morningsunlight fell upon him he looked so young, so handsome in his scarletuniform, that a murmur of pity rose, and spread among the people. Amist dimmed the youth's eyes as he caught sight of the little figurestanding by the door. He spoke to one of the guards, then steppedquickly to her side, stooped, and kissed her.
"Thank you, little cousin," he said. "All is well with me."
With firm step he passed on to go to his ignoble death. As he took hisplace in the cart the drums began to beat the dead march, and theprocession moved slowly away. Peggy heard nothing. Her eyes werefixed on the scarlet coat of her cousin. He did not turn. He did notlook to right, nor to left. Like a brave, gallant gentleman he wasgoing to his doom. As long as she could see him her eyes followed him.Her breath came gaspingly as the procession disappeared around a bendin the road. Her senses reeled. The ground was slipping, slipping----
An exclamation, sharp, penetrating, brought her to herself. The guardnear her had paused in his round, and was gazing at a cloud of dustwhich had suddenly appeared on the Morristown road. If it concealedhorsemen they were coming at a furious pace. Curious knots of peoplebegan to cluster in groups to watch its approach. Through Peggy'sdulled apprehension a thrill of interest ran. As the quick beat ofgalloping horses sounded on the morning air she started. Hopeelectrified her being. Could it be that some one was coming with helpfor Clifford? She ran to the road and strained her eyes toward thatapproaching cloud of dust. And then, from out of its envelopingparticles three horses emerged. The foremost rider was standing in hisstirrups, and high above his head he waved a flag frantically. Amurmur of excitement stirred the watchers as the sunlight caught thepure folds of the banner. It was a white flag. A white flag: the flagof life, of salvation. Peggy shrieked at sight of it. A shriek thatmingled joy with an agony of apprehension lest he be too late. Lest hebe too late! She tore the kerchief from her neck and waved it wildly.She called to him entreatingly to hurry, hurry, and knew not that hercries could not be heard. She wrung her hands at her helplessness. Oncame the horseman. Nearer and nearer he drew. The horse's flanks weresteaming. His eyes were strained and blood-shot. Blood flecked thefoam flew from his nostrils, but still his rider lashed him to greaterspeed. He called to her as he passed: "Which way, Peggy? Which way?"She raised her hand and pointed toward the bend in the road, and hethundered on. She had known it was Drayton before he called. She knewtoo that her father and Harriet rode behind. Her father come at last!Peggy was sobbing pitifully now, every vestige of self-control gone.David Owen brought his horse to a sudden stop as he came oppositeher, stooped, and swung her like a child up in front of him. She clungto him crying:
"They have taken him, father! They have taken him!"
"Steady, lass! Please God, we'll be in time."
They were beside Harriet now. Harriet who, with pale, set features,never turned. Her eyes were fixed on John Drayton's flying figure asthough all her hope lay with him. Faster and faster he rode. The whiteflag streamed above him. His horse was running like the wind.
The bend in the road was turned at last. Peggy hid her face againsther father's shoulder afraid to look. But---- Clifford? She must know.She sat up, but at first the crowd was all that she could see. A blackmass of swaying people whose heads were turned in their direction tosee what the commotion portended. The mass parted as Drayton dashedtoward it, leaving a clear path to the cart. And oh, thank heaven!Clifford sat there safe, safe. The provost-marshal stood with his handon the rope, arrested in the very act of performing his awful duty byJohn Drayton's hoarse shout:
"Forbear! Forbear in the name of Congress! A reprieve!"
Peggy Owen and Liberty Page 31
