CHAPTER IX--THE TALE OF A HERO
"Paradise is under the shadow of swords."
--Mahomet.
"Thee must excuse me, Friend John. I am late with thy dinner becauseGeneral Arnold dined with us, and we sat long at table," explained Peggythe next day as she entered the room where Drayton sat.
"Arnold?" cried the young fellow, starting up. "Was General Arnold here?Here? Under this very roof? Could I get a glimpse of him?"
He ran to the front window as he spoke and threw it open. Now thiswindow faced upon Chestnut Street, and there was danger of being seen,so Peggy ran to him in great perturbation.
"Come back," she cried in alarm. "Some one might see thee. He hath gone.Thou canst not see him. Dost forget that if any see thee thou mayst betaken?"
"I had forgot," said Drayton, drawing back into the room. "You did notspeak of me?" he asked quickly, with some excitement.
"Nay; calm thyself. We spoke naught of thee to him, nor to any. Have Inot said we would not? Was thee not under the general during the marchinto Canada?"
"Yes; but he was a colonel then. Hath his wound healed yet? Last springat Valley Forge he was still on crutches. Is he still crippled?"
"Yes, he is still lame. He uses the crutches when he hath not one of hissoldier's arms to lean upon."
"Would that he had mine to lean upon," cried Drayton, with such feelingthat Peggy was surprised.
"Why? Does thee think so much of him?" she asked.
"I'd die for him," uttered the lad earnestly. "There isn't one of usthat was on that march to Quebec under him who wouldn't."
"Suppose thee tells me about it," suggested Peggy. "I have heardsomething of the happenings of that time, but not fully. The city ringswith his prowess and gallant deeds. 'Tis said that he is generous andkind as well as brave."
"'Tis said rightly, Mistress Peggy. Doth he not care for the orphans ofJoseph Warren who fell at Bunker Hill? In that awful march was thereever a kinder or more humane leader? No tongue can tell the sufferingsand privations we endured on that march through the wilderness, butthere was no murmuring. We knew that he was doing the best that could bedone, and that if ever man could take us through that man was BenedictArnold. I cannot describe what hardships we endured, but as weapproached the St. Lawrence River I became so ill that I could no longermarch. Utterly exhausted, I sank down on a log, and watched the troopspass by me. In the rear came Colonel Arnold on horseback. Seeing mesitting there, pale and dejected, he dismounted and came over to me.
"'And what is it, my boy?' he asked. 'I--I'm sick,' I blubbered, andburst out crying.
"He didn't say a word for a minute, and then he turned and ran down tothe river bank, and halloed to a house which stood near. The owner camequickly, and Colonel Arnold gave him silver money to look after me untilI should get well. Then with his own hands he helped me into the boat,gave me some money also, and said that I must not think of joining themuntil I was quite strong. Oh!" cried Drayton huskily, "he was alwayslike that. Always doing something for us to make it easier."
"And did thee join him again?" questioned Peggy, her voice not quitesteady. She had heard of the love that soldiers often have for theirleaders, but she had not come in touch with it before.
"Ay! who could forsake a commander like that? As soon as I was able Ifollowed after them with all speed. In November we stood at last on thePlains of Abraham before Quebec. We were eager to attack the city atonce, but Sir Guy Carleton arrived with reinforcements, and we could nothope to take the city until we too were reinforced. Finally we werejoined by General Montgomery and three hundred men, and the two leadersmade ready to assault the town.
"On the last day of the year, in the midst of a driving snow-storm westarted. It was so dark and stormy that in order that we might recognizeeach other each soldier wore a white band of paper on his cap on whichwas written--Liberty or Death!
"General Montgomery was to attack the lower town by way of Cape Diamondon the river, while Colonel Arnold was to assault the northern part. Thestorm raged furiously, but we reached the Palace Gate in spite of it.The alarm was ringing from all the bells in the city, drums werebeating, and the artillery opened upon us. With Colonel Arnold at ourfront we ran along in single file, bending our heads to avoid the storm,and holding our guns under cover of our coats to keep our powder dry.
"The first barrier was at Sault au Matelot, and here we found ourselvesin a narrow way, swept by a battery, with soldiers firing upon us fromthe houses on each side of the passage. But Arnold was not daunted. Hecalled out, 'Come on, boys!' and we rushed on. 'Twas always that. Henever said, 'Go, boys!' like some of the officers. 'Twas always 'Comeon, boys!' and there he'd be at our head. I tell you a braver man neverlived.
"Well, as he rushed on cheering us to the assault, he was struck by amusket ball just at the moment of the capture of the barrier. His legwas broken, and he fell upon the snow. Then, can you believe it, he gotup somehow, though he could only use one leg, and endeavored to pressforward. Two of us dropped our muskets, and ran to him, but he refusedto leave the field until the main body of the troops came up. He stoodthere leaning on us for support, and calling to the troops in a cheeringvoice as they passed, urging them onward. When at last he consented tobe taken from the field his steps could be traced by the blood whichflowed from the wound."
"Was it the same one that was hurt at Saratoga?" queried Peggy.
"The very same. And no sooner was he recovered than he was in actionagain. Although the attack on the city was a failure he would not giveup the idea of its capture. I believe that had not General Montgomeryfallen it would have succeeded."
"'Twas at Quebec that William McPherson fell," mused Peggy. "He was thefirst one of our soldiers to fall. Philadelphia is proud of his renown.But oh, he was so young, and so full of patriotic zeal and devotion tothe cause of liberty!"
"Every one was full of it then," observed Drayton sadly. "When we wereon the Plains of Abraham before the battlements of the lofty town, thinkyou that no thought came to us of how Wolfe, the victorious Wolfe,scaled those rocks and forced the barred gates of the city? I tell youthat there was not one of us whose heart did not feel kinship with thathero. His memory inspired us. His very presence seemed to pervade thefield, and we knew that our leaders were animated by the memory of hisvictory."
"Thou hast felt like that, and yet thou hast deserted?" exclaimed thegirl involuntarily.
A deep flush dyed the young fellow's face. He sat very still for amoment and then answered with passion:
"Have I not given all that is necessary? And I have suffered, MistressPeggy. I have suffered that which is worse than death. Why, death uponthe battle-field is glorious! I do not fear it. But 'tis the longwinters; the cold, sleepless nights, huddling in scanty wisps of straw,or over a low fire for warmth; the going without food, or having butenough to merely keep life within one. This it is that takes the heartout of a man. I'll bear it no more."
Two great tears forced themselves from Peggy's eyes, and coursed downher cheeks. "Thee has borne so much," she uttered chokingly. "So much,Friend John, that I wonder thee has lived to tell it. And having borneso much 'tis dreadful to ask more of thee, and yet to have theefail--fail just at the very last! To dim such an honorable record! Toblot out all that thou hast endured by desertion! Oh, how could thee?How could thee? Could thee not endure a little more?"
Drayton stirred restlessly.
"They haven't treated me well," he blurted out. "I wanted to be in theSelect Corps, and they wouldn't put me there. And I merited it, MistressPeggy. I tell you I merited it."
"What is the Select Corps, John?" asked the girl curiously.
"'Tis a body of soldiers made up of picked men from the whole army," hereturned. "They are always in advance, and lead every charge in anactive campaign. I wanted to be there, and they wouldn't put me in."
"But," persisted Peggy speaking in a low tone, "does thee think that thygeneral would d
esert as thee has done just because he was not treatedwell? Thee knows that 'tis only of late that Congress would give him hisproper rank."
"He desert!" The boy's sullen eyes lighted up again at the mere mentionof his hero, and he laughed. "Why, I verily believe that General Arnoldwould fight if everybody else in America stopped fighting. Why, atSaratoga when General Gates deprived him of his command, and ordered himto stay in his tent, he would not. When we boys heard what had beendone, we were afraid he would leave us, and so we got up a petitionasking him to wait until after the battle. And, though he was smartingfrom humiliation, he promised that he'd stay with us. But Gates told himnot to leave the tent, and ordered us forward. We went, but our heartswere heavy to be without him.
"At the first sound of battle, however, he rushed from the tent, threwhimself on his horse, and dashed to where we were, crying, 'No man shallkeep me in my tent this day. If I am without command, I will fight inthe ranks; but the soldiers, God bless them, will follow my lead.'
"How we cheered when we saw him coming! Brandishing his broad-swordabove his head, he dashed into the thickest of the fight, calling theold, 'Come on, boys! Victory or death!' and the regiments followed himlike a whirlwind. The conflict was terrible, but in the midst of flameand smoke, and metal hail, he was everywhere. His voice rang out like atrumpet, animating and inspiring us to valor. He led us to victory, butjust as the Hessians, terrified by his approach, turned to flee, theydelivered a volley in their retreat that shot his horse from under him.At the same instant a wounded German private fired a shot which struckhim in that same leg that had been so badly lacerated at Quebec, twoyears before.
"As he fell he cried out to us, 'Rush on, my brave boys, rush on!' Butone, in fury at seeing the general wounded, dashed at the woundedGerman, and would have run him through with his bayonet had not thegeneral cried: 'Don't hurt him, he but did his duty. He is a finefellow.'"
"I don't wonder that thee loves him," cried Peggy, her eyes sparkling atthe recital. "I believe with thee that though all others should fail hewould fight the enemy even though he would fight alone. Oh, I must getthee to tell mother this! I knew not that he was so brave!"
"Yes," reiterated Master Drayton positively. "He would fight even thoughhe fought alone. But I am not made of such stuff. I am no hero, MistressPeggy. Beside, have not the Parley-voos come over to fight for us? Theyhave all the honors given them; let them have the miseries too."
"But why should the French fight our battles for us?" demanded the girlbluntly. "They are only to help us. Why should they exert themselves tosave that which we do not value enough to fight for?"
"'Tis expected by the army, anyway," said Drayton. "I know that I'll dono more."
"Thee is a poor tired lad," said the girl gently. "And thy dinner. Seehow little thou hast eaten. I have talked too long with thee to-day.Later we will renew the subject."
"Renew it an you will," retorted the boy assuming again his jauntymanner, half defiance, half swagger. "'Twill make no difference. I haveserved my last. Unless the recruiting officer finds me you won't catchme in the army again."
Peggy smiled a knowing little smile, but made no answer.
"We shall see," she thought as she left the room. "Methinks thee hassome martial spirit left, Friend John."
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 11
