My Lady of Doubt

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XI

  THE CAPTURE OF THE WAGON TRAIN

  We could see them quite clearly, as they topped the crest, the moonlightrevealing men and horses so distinctly I could even guess at theiruniform. Those in advance rode slowly, four abreast, down into the blackshadows, lolling in their saddles, voices murmuring, seeminglyunconscious of any danger. It was easy to comprehend their state of mind.Delavan had been left alone for a week, permitted to sweep thecountryside unmolested. He and his command had naturally grown careless,never suspecting their every move had been watched by keen-eyed scouts.Now, guarded by Grant's troop, they believed themselves sufficientlystrong for any emergency; that no force the scattered enemy could gatherwould venture upon attack. By daylight they would be within sight of thePhiladelphia outposts, and serenely confident in their numbers, the nightmarch had therefore become a mere routine. I heard Farrell chuckle grimlyto himself as he observed the careless approach of those advance riders.

  They were Queen's Rangers, the white facings of their coats conspicuous,their guns swung at the shoulder in reckless confidence. A slim younglieutenant appeared to be in command, and we counted twenty in theadvance body as they slowly passed and disappeared into the denser gloombelow. Following them appeared the wagons, huge Conestogas, heavilyladen, creaking dismally in the night silence, and lurching along therutty road. These were dragged by mules, horses, and oxen, the driversblocking the wheels as they struck the sharp descent, a thin guard ofHessians, on foot, streaming along either side, but offering noassistance. We could hear them growling to each other in German,punctuated by an occasional English oath, as they stumbled forward in thedark. Ten wagons passed thus, without a movement or sound from the menlying concealed almost within arm's reach of the unconscious guards.Farrell never stirred, and I scarcely ventured to breathe. Then therecame another squadron of Rangers, an officer riding alone in front, theblack shadow of another section of the wagon train looming over the ridgebehind them. The horsemen passed us, the officer turning in his saddlewith an order to close up their ranks. I recognized Grant's voice, andthen, sharp as a blow, rang out Farrell's whistle at my very ear.

  There was a leap of flame from both sides the road, lighting up that gashin the clay bank as though it was an inferno, the red and yellow glowcleaving the night asunder, with ear-splitting roar. I was on my feet, myrifle spitting, yet hardly conscious of any act, stunned by thesuddenness of the reports, confused by those black figures leapingforward through the weird glare. I saw and heard, and yet it was all aconfused medley, in which I bore active part while scarcely realizing itssignificance. I saw men reel stumbling back, some falling heavily; Iheard shouts, oaths, cries of pain, the piercing shrieks of strickenanimals; there was the crunch of blows, a wild, inhuman cheer, a grufforder yelled above the uproar, the rush of bodies hardly distinguishable.The thin line of Hessians were flung aside as though they were paper men;eager hands gripped the astounded Rangers, and dragged them from theirsaddles. It was a fierce hand-to-hand _melee_ so swiftly fought as to beover with almost in a minute, and yet so desperate the narrow roadway wasstrewn with bodies. Frightened horses whirled and ran; wagons wereoverturned; hemmed in against the high walls, Germans and British madeone mad effort to extricate themselves; the advance guard came spurringback, pushing blindly into the ruck, the boyish voice of their younglieutenant sounding above the uproar. But our men were between the two, acompact body, each borderman fighting independently, but knowing thegame. I heard no word of command, no shout of direction from eitherFarrell or Duval, yet we ripped them asunder with sweeping rifle butts,and, almost before I could catch a second breath, the few who remained ontheir feet were helplessly trapped. Farrell saw it was all over, and hiswhistle sounded again, stilling the uproar. Up to that moment he wasbeside me; with the echoing of the shrill blast he had disappeared.

  It was Duval who emerged from the wreck of the train, demandingsurrender.

  "Who commands here?" he shouted. "Speak up quick."

  There was hesitancy, and then out of the black mass huddled against thebank I recognized Grant's voice.

  "I suppose I do; has any one seen Captain Delavan?"

  "He fell at the first fire, sir," answered some one huskily.

  Grant stepped forth into the moonlight, bareheaded, his sword in hand.

  "Then I am the senior officer," he announced, his voice shaking slightly."Who are you?"

  "Camden minute men. Do you surrender?"

  He took a long breath, glancing about at the dark shadows. Some one heldup a lighted torch, the red flame casting a sudden gleam over thesurrounding faces. It was clear that further resistance was useless, yetGrant temporized.

  "Are you in command?"

  "No," said Duval; "but I represent the commander."

  "I deal with the one responsible in this affair and demand terms. Who isyour leader?"

  Duval smiled, turning his head inquiringly.

  "I don't think you have much choice," he commented dryly. "However,perhaps you are not too proud to talk to a regular who outranks you--Ipresent Major Lawrence, of the Continental Line."

  Surprised as I was by being thus suddenly thrust forward into supremeauthority, I as instantly understood the purpose, and stepped to thefront. Grant stared at my face in the gleam of the smoking torch, almostas though he looked upon a ghost.

  "You!"

  "Certainly, Captain. It is a pleasure to meet with you again, especiallyunder such happy circumstances. But my men are becoming impatient. Do yousurrender?"

  "Under what terms?" he parleyed.

  "None, but we are not savages. You will be treated as prisoners of war."

  His hatred of me made him obstinate, but the utter helplessness of theirposition was too apparent to be ignored. A Hessian muttered something inGerman, and Grant dropped the point of his sword with an oath.

  "Good," I said promptly. "Lieutenant, have your men disarm theprisoners."

  There was no resistance, and the militiamen herded them against the bank,encircled by a heavy guard. Duval singled out the officers from among theothers, and brought them forward to where I stood. There were butthree--Grant and two Hessians. I looked at them keenly, recalling theslight figure of the young lieutenant with the boy's voice. Could the ladhave been shot, or what had become of him?

  "Are you three all that are left?" I questioned bluntly. "Who commandedthe vanguard?"

  The two Hessians looked at each other stupidly, and I asked the questionagain before Grant saw fit to reply. His manner was excessively insolent.

  "That is more than I know. We joined after dark, and I did not meetDelavan's officers."

  "He vas vat you call maype a volunteer leftentant," added one of theGermans brokenly. "At Mount Holly we met, yah, and from there he joined."

  "Not one of Delavan's men then?"

  "I dink not; he vas Light Dragoon. I haf the vagon guard--the firstvagons--an' see him there. Mine Gott! he come pack vid his mens allright--slash, shoot--his horse rear up; that vas the last I see already."

  "The lad got away, with three others, sir," broke in a new voice at myback. "They wheeled and rode through us, across the water. We thought thehorse guard would get them over there, but I guess they didn't; anyhowthere was no firing. The fellows must have turned in under the bank, androde like hell."

  Satisfied as to this incident, and not altogether regretful that the boyhad thus escaped, I held a short consultation with Duval, seekingexplanation as to why the command had been so unceremoniously thrust uponme. A few words only were required to make the situation clear. Farrell'sability to injure and annoy the enemy largely depended on his leadershipnot being known. While taking part in every engagement, he alwaysrequired his lieutenants to represent him in negotiations, so that up tothis time, whatever the British might suspect, they had no positive proofthat he was openly in arms against them. Duval, in turn, taking advantageof my presence, had shifted the responsibility to my shoulders.

  "But what do you people do with your p
risoners?" I asked.

  "Send 'em to the Continental lines when we can," he explained, "and if wecan't then turn 'em loose. No use paroling 'em, as they consider usguerillas. If I was you I'd run 'em back to the farmhouse across thecreek, an' hold 'em there till we get rid of this stuff. Maybe it'll taketwenty-four hours to hide it all, and burn the wagons. Then the boys canturn 'em loose, an' there's no harm done. I'd like to take that fellowGrant into our lines--he's a mean pillaging devil--but it's too big arisk; Bristol is about the nearest picket post, and the Red-coats havegot cavalry patrols all along in back of the river."

  "But I cannot wait here," I answered, impatiently. "Farrell understoodthat. I have important information for Washington, and only came with youto-night because you were following along my route. I've got to go on."

  "That's all right; just give your orders, and we'll attend to the rest.What we want is for these lads to go back to Philadelphia saying theywere attacked by a force of militia under command of an officer of theContinental line. That will give Clinton a scare, and turn suspicion awayfrom us. Grant knows you, I understand, so he'll report the affair thatway. You can be off within thirty minutes."

  It was easy to grasp the point of view, and I saw no reason for refusingassistance. I gave the necessary orders, standing under the torchlight infull view, and waited while a squad of partisans rounded up the disarmedprisoners, and guarded them down the slope to the edge of the stream.This was accomplished quietly and expeditiously, Duval whispering to meas to whom to put in command of the guard. The others gathered about thewagons, deciding on what was worth saving, and what had better bedestroyed. Teams were doubled up, and several of the heavy Conestogasrumbled away into the darkness. Two, too badly injured to be repaired,were fired where they lay, the bright flames lighting up the high bankson either side the road. I watched this work impatiently, although itrequired but a few moments, and finally turned aside in search of a goodmount. I found a big black, with British arms on the bridle, and a pairof loaded pistols in the holsters, a fine-looking animal, and came backinto the fire glow, determined to lose no more time. Duval haddisappeared, but, as I stood there looking about for him to say good-bye,a young country fellow came up hurriedly from out the darkness.

  "You're wanted down thar," he said, with the jerk of a thumb over hisshoulder. "The Tory officer wants to see ye."

  "What officer? Captain Grant?"

  "I reckon that's the one," indifferently; "anyhow I was told to fetch yedown thar. Bannister sent me."

  I went as he directed down the rutty road, my newly appropriated horsetrailing along behind. The prisoners were in an open space near the bankof the stream, where a fire had been built. They were mostly lying down,the guard forming an outside circle. Grant was pacing back and forthrestlessly, but, as soon as I appeared within the fire radius, he cametoward me.

  "Can I see you alone?" he asked brusquely.

  "If there is any reason for privacy, certainly," I answered in surprise."What do you wish to say?"

  "This is a matter strictly between us," evasively. "I prefer not todiscuss it publicly here."

  I had a suspicion of treachery, yet was not willing to exhibit anyreluctance. The fellow was no better man than I when it came to astruggle, and was unarmed. Besides he had succeeded in arousing mycuriosity.

  "Very good. Bannister," to the partisan in charge, "I want a word withCaptain Grant, and will be responsible for his safe return."

  The man looked after us doubtfully, yet permitted us to pass beyond theguard-lines. There was a stump beside the ford, barely within the flickerof the distant fire, and there I stopped, leaning against my horse, andturned so as to look into the man's face.

  "Well, Grant," I said, rather sternly. "We are alone now; what is it?"

  He cleared his throat, evidently uncertain how best to express himself.

  "Why did you ask so many questions about Delavan's lieutenant?" he begansullenly. "What were you trying to find out?"