CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
ADVANCE OF ARMY UP JAMES RIVER.--I COMMAND A FLOTILLA OF BOATS UPNANSIMOND RIVER.--A DARK NIGHT.--SURROUND A HOUSE.--INTERVIEW WITHMADELINE.--WARNED OF PLAN TO CAPTURE US.--O'DRISCOLL AT HOME.--RAPIDPULL FOR LIBERTY.--MACKEY'S MILLS.--PEOPLE WIDE-AWAKE.--HOT FIRE.--REGAIN SHIP.
The new year of 1781 commenced with the advance of the whole army, underGeneral Arnold, up the banks of the James river, protected by threeships of war--the Charlestown, Bonetta, and Swift. No attack was madeon us; indeed, there was no force of the enemy, it was believed, in theneighbourhood in any way capable of impeding our progress. That eveningI was again sent for, and, in order to ascertain that important fact, Iwas directed to take command of five boats and to proceed up theNansimond river. "You will learn, also, what shipping is in the river,"said my captain; "and, Mr Hurry, you will not forget to see how theycan best be cut out." Having received this brief professionaladmonition, I took my departure.
I had the Charon's cutter, the Thames's long-boat, and three otherboats, each commanded by a lieutenant or master's mate. I gave themall, in the clearest way, their instructions, for I felt that we wereabout to engage in an expedition which might prove extremely hazardous,though but little honour was to be reaped from it. The Nansimond riveris about twenty-five miles long, and generally about half a mile wide;but in some places, as high up as the west branch, it narrows to aboutfifty yards. Not far from the entrance is the town of Nansimond, andhigher up a place called Mackey's Mills. Nearly at the source is a townor village called Suffolk. This information I had obtained from theprisoners we had taken on our previous expedition.
Darkness had long settled down before my five boats collected alongsidethe Charon. Never was I out in a more pitchy night. Dense cloudscovered the sky, and not a star was visible. On first stepping into myboat, after leaving the light of the cabin, I could see nothing.
"You all understand what we are to do, gentlemen?" said I to theofficers under me. "Follow closely in my wake. Let not a word bespoken. If we are discovered and attacked, we are to put about and pulldown the stream; if not, wait till I give the order to return. Shoveoff!"
Our oars were muffled, so that not a sound was heard as we pulled awaythrough the darkness towards the mouth of the Nansimond river. We had apilot with us who professed to know the navigation, and we believed thatwe could trust him. By degrees my eyes began to grow accustomed to thedarkness, and I could distinguish the outline of the shore. We enteredthe river about ten o'clock, and slowly groped our way up the stream,one boat following the other in line, like a long snake wriggling itsway through the grass. On we pulled. Sharp eyes, indeed, must havebeen those which could have discovered us from the shore. But fewlights were streaming from the windows of the houses of Nansimond as wepassed that town. Early hours were kept by the colonists in thoseprimitive days, and most of the inhabitants had retired to rest--notaware that an enemy was so close to them, or dreaming of danger. Aslong as we continued in the wider part of the river we had no fear ofbeing detected. However, as our object was to obtain information, Iresolved to land near the first house we could see on the shore. Myplan was then to surround it, keep all the inmates captive, carry themup the river with us, and land them again on our return, so as toprevent them from giving notice of our expedition, much in the same waythat we had done on our march to Hampton. The darkness, however, madethis no easy matter, for not the sign of a house could we distinguish onthe shore. Sometimes we pulled towards one bank and sometimes towardsthe other, but to no purpose. If houses there were, they must have beenamong the trees, and the inhabitants must have gone to bed andextinguished all their lights. At last I resolved to land, and, withpart of one boat's crew, to explore the country on foot. Grampus,Rockets, and two other men accompanied me, while the boats pulled slowlyalong, ready to come to my assistance should I be surprised. I walkedtwo or three miles in this way, stumbling along through woods and swampsand other impediments; but, though we crossed several ploughed fields,no houses could we discover. At last, from very weariness, I wascompelled to take to the boat again. Several times we landed, but withthe same want of success as at first. We came in time to Mackey'sMills. I had made up my mind to catch Mr Mackey, at all events, andmake him serve our purpose. Accordingly we landed, and having lightedour lanterns to save ourselves from tumbling into the mill-dams ortraps, which we supposed would everywhere abound, we surrounded thebuildings, and proceeded to search for the miller and his men; butneither Mr Mackey nor any of his people were to be found. The millappeared to be deserted, so we had our trouble for nothing. Once morewe took to the boats. The river was here, for some distance, verynarrow, but it widened out again as we proceeded upwards. Again andagain we landed, always keeping the most profound silence. I had dulyimpressed on the minds of the people the fact that our lives and thesuccess of the enterprise depended on our so doing. We were all,however, beginning to get rather vexed at our want of success,especially as we had no safety-valve in the expression of our feelings.At times it appeared as if the river flowed through the centre of somelarge forest. On either side the tall trees rose up, forming a darkwall, with the sky overhead and the smooth black current of the river onwhich we floated flowing beneath. I trusted that none of the enemy haddiscovered us, for I thought to myself, if they have, this is just theplace they will select to attack, and very little chance we shall have,in that case, of successfully running the gauntlet and getting offscot-free. However, our business was to push up the river as far as wecould go till we discovered the vessels we were to look for, takingcare, only, that we had time to return before daylight should discoverus to our foes. On we went, till we reached a part of the river calledthe West Branch. It appeared to me that the night had become less darkthan at first. Perhaps it was that the banks were freer from trees. Wekept carefully examining either shore. I fancied as we pulled on that Icould distinguish a rough sort of landing-place.
"A house will not be far-off from it," I said to myself, so I gave theorder to pull in for it. My eyes had not deceived me. There was aregular formal landing-place, and not three hundred yards from it Ithought that I saw a house. Leaving two men in each boat I drew up myparty and gave the order to advance that we might immediately surroundthe house, if such, as I suspected, there was. With the sameprecautions which we had hitherto used we advanced as rapidly as wecould venture to move towards what I took to be a building. I soonfound that I was not mistaken. The barking of a dog also told me thatthe place was inhabited, and at the same time warned us that the inmateswere very likely to be aroused by our approach. I had charged all thoseunder my command on no account to use violence, whatever might occur,unless in our own defence, should we be attacked by the enemy.
As we drew near I saw that the house was a large one, and that it hadall the appearance of a gentleman's country seat. We found ourselvesalso in a good road leading apparently into the interior. I thereforecalled a halt, and, leaving some of the men where we were, I led therest round so as closely to surround the premises on the land side. Ialso bethought me of placing a guard to watch the approach by the river,for I thought it very likely that if any one wished to escape therewould be a boat concealed under the banks by which they might effecttheir object. While I was making these dispositions the barking of thedog continued, but as he did not rush out on us I concluded that he waschained. He had, however, aroused the inmates, for as I passed throughthe garden I saw a light in one of the rooms down-stairs and otherlights, passing the windows of the upper storey. From the situation ofthe lower room down-stairs I suspected that it must be the drawing-roomor one of the sitting-rooms, and, halting my men under the shadow of ashrubbery, with directions to remain there till I summoned them, Iapproached the window for the purpose of trying if I could see any ofthe people within. There were two windows to the room. The blindbefore one of them was drawn down, so I went to the other. The lowershutter to that was also closed, but by standing up on th
e window-sill Icould look into the room. What was my surprise to see a lady sitting ata table, on which stood a lamp, with a book in her hand, reading. Herback was towards me, but from her figure and dress I thought she wasyoung. What surprised me was to find a lady sitting up at that hour,for it was now between two and three o'clock in the morning. Somethingunusual must, I suspected, be going on in the house. I was afraid thatthe sudden appearance of a body of armed men would seriously frightenthe lady, and so I resolved to enter the house alone and take my chanceof meeting with opposition from any man who might be there. A dooropened into the garden. It was not bolted. I lifted the latch andentered. A light stood in the hall. I was not mistaken as to thecharacter of the house; it was evidently that of people of fortune. Onmy right hand was a door which I conceived led into the room where I hadseen the lady. An impulse I could not resist induced me to open it.The noise caused by my so doing made the lady turn her head. Hercountenance was very pale and tearful. She looked up at me; her eyebrightened: I sprang forward and threw myself at her feet. MadelineCarlyon was before me. So astonished and overcome by numberlessconflicting feelings was she that I thought she would have fainted. Sheuttered my name in a tone of doubt and hesitation, as if she did notbelieve in the reality of what she saw before her. I took her hand andpressed it to my lips.
"It is I, Madeline, who have never ceased thinking of you since weparted," I exclaimed,--"one whose only wish has been to find means tomake you his own when the blessings of peace have been restored to ourcountry--one whose earthly hopes are all centred in you. You areindulging in no dream--no fancy--I am really and truly before you."
However, I need not repeat all I said on the occasion. I had no greatdifficulty in persuading Madeline that I was really before her; but whenshe inquired how it was that I came to be there, unwilling indeed I feltto tell her that I had come in hostile guise. At last, however, I hadto confess the truth.
"Then I understand it all," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, believe me,you are beset with dangers. I ought not to betray the councils of mycountrymen, and yet I cannot let you fall into the trap which has beenlaid for you. Your arrival in the river was immediately known, and aplan was forthwith formed to cut you off. The whole country has beenfor some hours alarmed. My own father heads the force, consisting, Iheard, of more than four hundred men, who are about to take post atMackey's Mills to cut off your retreat. Silently as you may have comeup the river, your progress has been, without doubt, closely watched.Perhaps even now your presence here is known, and anxiety on my father'saccount prevented me from retiring to rest, and little did I think whowas in command of the British boats. I knew not even that you were onthe coast. But I must not lose time in talking. What advice can I giveyou? Stay, oh, let me consider! The party must already have nearlyreached Mackey's Mills. They will be there before you can possibly passthat narrow part of the river. Oh, this cruel, cruel war! What oughtto be done? I am sure that my father himself would deeply grieve tofind that stern duty had compelled him to injure you, and yet how couldeven I ask him to act otherwise than he will do? I know that I oughtnot, as a patriot, to give you the warning that I now do. Let mecollect my thoughts and consider by what plan I can best secure yoursafety. It would be useless, I fear, to advise you to deliveryourselves up as prisoners of war, and thus avoid bloodshed. Yet howcan you escape from the trap into which you have run? You smile andshake your head. I know--I know. You would say that you must try tofight your way through a host of rebels rather than yield yourselvesprisoners. Your safety consists in the rapidity of your movements."
She was silent for some minutes and then continued--
"There are, as high up as Suffolk, several vessels--a ship, a sloop, anda brig. Let it be known by any people whom you can fall in with thatyou are aware of this fact, and it will naturally be supposed that youhave gone up the river to bring them off or to destroy them. The planwas to detain you by various stratagems in the river till daylight, whenit was expected that you would easily be cut off and destroyed if youshould attempt to fight your way through the crowds of riflemen liningeach bank of the river, or otherwise that you would be compelled to giveyourselves up as prisoners. I fear me much, I repeat, that this lattercourse you will not follow--I know you will not. Then you have onlyyour speed on which to rely. You will have to run a terrible gauntletbetween well-practised sharpshooters. Start without a moment's delay.The militia will, I fear, have reached Mackey's Mills before you can getthere; but if, as I hope, they will believe that you have gone up thestream, they may not be on the watch for you, and you may push bywithout being perceived."
Such was the tenor of the words the agitated and alarmed girl pouredout. I felt sure that I could follow no better plan than the one shesuggested. Still it was heart-breaking thus to leave her. I have notintruded any part of our conversation on my readers relating moreespecially to ourselves. She had said all that I could wish to assureme that her heart was still mine, and I had poured out my ownlong-pent-up feelings into her ears. I had been sitting by her side.She started. A sound was heard in the house--scuffling of feet--a loudscream--people running here and there. The dog barked loudly outside.Two black girls rushed into the room.
"Oh, missie, missie! murder, murder! thieves, thieves!" they cried out."Dey be here--dey be everywhere!"
Just then they caught sight of me. Instead of screaming, they stood asif petrified. At last, pointing at me, they exclaimed, "Oh, missie, whodat?"
The question was a difficult one to answer, but Madeline showed herpresence of mind by replying calmly--
"A friend who little expected to find me here, but he will take carethat no harm happens to any one in this house. We may be thankful thathe and his followers are here to protect us. Now go and tell the restof the people who remain in the house that they must not be alarmed.Let them assemble in the hall. I will go and speak to them after I haveseen Mrs Elbank and Miss Porter. Go--run! Be good girls, and do as Itell you."
The quick, firm manner with which she spoke had a wonderful effect onthe negresses, and instinctively off they ran, perfectly satisfied, toobey her orders. She explained, briefly, that Mrs Elbank was an oldlady, the owner of the house where she and her father were staying.
As soon as the girls had disappeared she took my hand with perfectfrankness and maiden modesty, while she looked up into my face with anexpression which showed me the true feelings of her heart.
"Farewell, farewell!" she exclaimed. "Let me entreat you not to remaina moment longer. Every instant's delay may produce danger, and, tooprobably, bloodshed. Should, by any chance, the militia discover thatyou are here, they would come back with an overwhelming force and cutyou off. Go--oh, go!"
As she spoke these words her feelings overcame her and her sobs chokedher utterance. I would have given worlds to have been able to stay andcomfort her. I did all I could. I took her in my arms and imprinted akiss on her brow. It might be the last, but I dared not think so. No,I felt that we should meet again. "I obey you now, dearest," I cried,in a tone intended to reassure her. "Fear not, I shall escape thedanger you dread, and I will return perhaps before long."
I added some solemn words of comfort, and then I rushed from the roomand hurried into the garden where I had left my men. I found from themthat O'Driscoll had captured an old negro servant, who, hearing the dogbark, had come out to see what was the matter, and that, conducted byhim, he had entered the house where he now was. This accounted for thedisturbance I had heard. I accordingly went back to the front door,which was obligingly opened by our friend the negro, who seemed by hismanner to have long-expected me. With many bows he led me into ahandsome dining-hall, when what was my surprise to find O'Driscoll andanother officer seated at a table with an abundance of viands spreadbefore them, and wine of various sorts sparkling in decanters by theirside.
"Really, these rebels treat us very well," said O'Driscoll as I entered."When we caught that old gentleman he told us th
at supper was allready, and that he had been ordered to invite us in to partake of it,and to beg us to remain as long as we felt inclined."
"I do not doubt it, Mr O'Driscoll," I answered sternly. "But, sir, wehave duties to perform, and our orders were to proceed up the river asfar as we could go. Now I have discovered that there are severalvessels at Suffolk, four miles above this. We must go and try to cutthem out. Thank the owners of the house for their hospitality, but wecannot stay to benefit by it," said I to the negro, giving him a dollar."Keep that for yourself, and remember that all Englishmen are notcannibals and savages."
Having directed O'Driscoll to call in the rest of the other partiesguarding the approaches to the house, we quickly assembled at therendezvous I had appointed outside the gates, whence we set off as fastas we could for the boats. I could not help having some dread lest theyshould have been attacked during our absence, and if so, I knew that weshould at once be made prisoners. I did not, however, express my fearsto any one. The way to the boats appeared very long. I thought morethan once that we must have mistaken our road. Great was my relieftherefore, when I found that we had at length reached the spot wherethey lay concealed. I now called the other lieutenants round me, andbriefly explained to them the information I had obtained. I did notthink it necessary to say whence I had obtained it. They unanimouslyconcurred with me that we had done all that could be required of us, andthat our only proper course was at once to proceed down the river, andto endeavour to pass our enemies before they could expect us, or wereprepared to impede our progress.
"Well, gentlemen, to our boats without delay," I said--not speaking,however, above a whisper, for I thought it very likely that we mighthave listeners in ambush. "Rapidly and silently, like Indians on a wartrail, let us make the best of our way down the stream. If any boat isdisabled, let the one ahead of her take her in tow. If fired at, do notattempt to fire in return, but pull away for our lives. Now shove off."
Away we went. I took the lead, keeping the centre of the river.Strange as it may appear, I thought much more of the meeting I had justhad with Madeline, of all she had said to me, and of all I had said toher, or wished that I had said, than of the terrific danger to which wewere exposed. I use the word advisedly. Let any one fancy what itwould be to pass down a channel fifty yards wide, each bank being linedwith four hundred, or, for what I could tell, twice that number ofsharpshooters. The latter hours of the night continued as dark as hadbeen the earlier part; there was a slight rain, or rather mist, whichincreased the obscurity, while the wind had got up, and its low moaningamong the trees assisted to conceal the sound made by the boats as theyclove their way through the water. We had also come up with the flood;the tide had now turned, and there was a strong current which muchassisted our progress. These circumstances gave me hopes that we mightyet successfully run the gauntlet of our enemies. There was anothercircumstance to be dreaded, which might prove fatal to us. Should theenemy have time to collect any boats and attack us on the river, wecould scarcely hope to cut our way past them as well as the riflemen onshore. When any great danger is to be incurred, it is a great relief tobe able to speak. This was now denied us, and each man was left to hisown thoughts. Mine, I may say, were not gloomy--very far from it.Sometimes they were bright and almost joyous. On we went. When Ibrought my thoughts back to the present, I could not help feeling thatany moment we might see the flashes of a hundred rifles, and hear theirsharp cracks as they opened on us. We had got to the southern end ofthe West Branch, but, as yet, not a sound from the shore had been heard.We were approaching the narrow reach, on the banks of which Mackey'sMill is situated. Most of us, I believe, felt an inclination to holdour breath as we pulled on. The current here was very strong. I keptas nearly as I could in the centre, the other boats following. I couldjust distinguish the dark outline of the building we had before visitedagainst the sky ahead of us, when a voice, I knew not whence it came,shouted, "There they are! Fire!"
In an instant the whole line of the shore burst into flame--rapidlysounded the cracks of the rifles, and thickly about our heads flew thebullets. At that moment I thought I saw a canoe dart away down theriver, and I doubted not that our enemies had stationed her there towatch for us. Thicker and thicker came the leaden shower, several shotsgoing through the boats' sides, though as yet no one was hit. Still Ihad no notion of giving in. "Now, my lads, give way for your lives!" Iexclaimed in a loud whisper. "Many a man has passed through hotter firethan this unscathed."
I scarcely think I was speaking the truth when I said this. So dark wasit, however, that I did not believe that we could be seen from theshore, though the flashes of the firearms lighted up the dark woods, thered-brick mill and its out-houses, and threw a lurid glare over thewhirling current as it hurried by its overhanging banks, while ever andanon we could clearly distinguish the glancing arms and the figures ofour enemies as they stood drawn up along the banks, pouring their firedown upon us.
On we pulled, silently as ever, and as fast as the men could lay theirbacks to the oars. We were, however, I knew too well, only at thecommencement of the narrow passage, and I could not tell what oppositionwe might have to encounter before we got through it. My boat was light,and pulled easily, but some of the other boats were very slow--theThames's long-boat especially--and rowed very heavily, and I keptanxiously turning round to ascertain that they were following me. Forsome time I could count them, one after the other in line, coming upafter me. Then I turned my eyes on the banks of the river. By somemeans our enemies calculated our downward progress with great accuracyif they did not see us, for, while some were blazing away, I could seeother bodies hurrying along the side of the river, to be ready, Idoubted not, to attack us as we came down; some were on foot, but otherswere on horseback, who had much the advantage of us in speed. At last Ifound that I was getting ahead of the other boats, so I had to slackenmy speed till the next boat came up to me. It was the Charon's cutter,commanded by Mr Bruton. When I looked back I found that the Thames'slong-boat was nowhere to be seen. Bruton said she had only just droppedastern, so begged leave to go and tow her up. This I allowed him to do,telling him that I would remain till he and the other boats came up. Ibegan to fear, however, that the missing boat might have been cut off.Away dashed the gallant fellows after her. Whatever might happen, Iresolved not to attempt to escape myself unless I could bring off therest of the boats or the survivors of their people with me, though, fromthe fastness of my own boat, I might possibly have effected that object.My men behaved admirably, though exposed to so hot a fire; not a murmurescaped them at the delay, while they lay on their oars waiting for theappearance of the missing boat. The other two boats I saw coming on,and they soon caught me up. Great was my relief to see Bruton, with theThames's boat in tow, at the same time emerge from the darkness. Then,once more, away we all went together down the stream.
I own myself that, under other circumstances, I should have very muchliked to have had a shot at our pertinacious foes, and I have no doubtso would my followers, but the knowledge that Madeline's father wasamong them restrained my arm, and I felt a curious satisfaction in beingfired at without attempting to injure my assailants in return, and thatI might hereafter be able to assure him that I had not knowingly liftedmy hand against him.
We were not long about doing what I have been describing. Had we, I donot believe one of us would have escaped the leaden shower rattlingthrough the air and splashing up the water on every side, literallywetting our faces. I could already feel several holes in the side of myboat close to me; then there was a deep groan of suppressed pain, but noone ceased rowing. On we went. A sharp cry from one of the boatsastern of me showed me too clearly that another of my people waswounded. Still the boats dashed on with unabated speed. This successmade me hope that we might still escape. We had passed, I thought, thegreater part of the narrow portion of the river. I had not much fear,when we could reach the wider parts, that we should get through unlessatt
acked, as I have said, by a flotilla of boats.
Never did I hear such a rattle or cracking of rifles as the four or fivehundred militia and irregulars kept up on us. However, there wasnothing derogatory to their character as marksmen that they had hithertodone so little execution, for had they been the best sharpshooters inthe world, their science would have availed them nothing through thepitchy darkness which happily enveloped us.
At length I fancied that I could distinguish the stream widening awaybefore us, and, judging from the flashes of the fire-arms, the bankswere much farther apart than before. I was not mistaken. With asatisfaction I can scarcely express I saw that all our boats had comethrough, but still the enemy kept up a hot fire astern of us into emptyspace, evidently not knowing where we were. My men seemed inclined toshout when they found themselves in the wide reach of the river, but Irestrained them, not knowing what enemies might be lurking about near uson the water. Then we continued pulling steadily on, till here andthere I saw a light gleaming on the shore, which I calculated must comefrom the town of Nansimond. If a flotilla of boats were on the watchfor us, I thought that we should probably here encounter them--not thatI any longer despaired of escaping from them, even should they attackus. I had directed the officers not to attempt to retaliate unlessactually boarded, but to employ all their energies in making theirescape. This was, of course, the wisest policy.
On we went. The town was passed. No boats appeared. We wereapproaching the mouth of the river. Daylight was now breaking. I wasonly too thankful that we had not delayed till then to make our way downthe river. Either we should all have been taken prisoners, or few ifany of us would have survived the murderous fire to which we should havebeen exposed. At length we emerged from the river and finally arrivedon board the Charon at about ten in the morning with only two peoplewounded, though the upper works of our boats were riddled like sieves.
Thus ended an expedition fraught with so much personal interest to me.We all also gained credit for our exploit. We had completely performedthe duty for which we had been sent, having made ourselves thoroughlyacquainted with the river, and ascertained that it would be impossibleto cut out the vessels which had run up to Suffolk unless a very strongforce, if not the whole army, was to proceed up for that purpose. Moreand more as I thought over what had occurred did I pray that the warmight soon cease, and that, if Englishmen must be fighting, they mightnot be called on to cross their swords with their relatives and friends.
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