SLEET AND SNOW.
Fourth of July, 1776.--Troublous times, that day? Valentine Kullthought so, as he stood in a barn-yard, with a portion of his mother'sclothes line tied as tightly as he dared to tie it around the neck ofa calf. He was waiting for the bars to be let down by his sister. AnnaKull thought the times decidedly troublous, as she pulled and pushedand lifted to get the bars down.
"I can't do it, Valentine," she cried, her half-child face thrustbetween the rails.
"Try again!"
She tried. Result as before.
"Come over, then, and hold Snow."
Anna went over, rending gown and apron on the roughnesses of rails andhaste. Never mind. She was over, and could, she thought, hold thecalf.
Barn-yard, cow (I forgot to mention that there was a cow); calf, andchildren, one and all, were on Staten Island in the Bay and Provinceof New York. Beside these, there was a house. It was so small, soqueer, so old-fashioned, so Amsterdam Dutchy, that, for all that Iknow to the contrary, Achter Kull may have built it as a play-housefor his children when first he came to America and took up his abodeby the Kill van Kull. The Kill van Kull is that curious little sliceof sea pinched in by a finger of New Jersey thrust hard against StatenIsland, as though trying its best to push the island off to sea.However it may have been, there was the house, and from the very roofof it arose a head, neck, two shoulders and one arm; the same beingthe property of the mother of Valentine and Anna. The said mother waskeeping watch from the scuttle.
"Be quick, my children," she cried. "The Continentals are now drivingoff Abraham Rycker's cattle and the boat isn't full yet. They'll be_here_ next."
Anna seized the clothes line; Valentine made for the bars. Down theycame, the one after the other, and out over the lower one went calf,Anna and cow. Valentine made a dive for Snow's leading string. Hemissed it. Away went the calf, poor Anna clutching at the rope, intogreen lane, through tall grass, tangle and thicket. She caught herfoot in her torn gown and was falling, when a sudden holding up of therope assisted by Valentine's clutch at her arm set her on her feetagain. During this slight respite from the chase, the cow (Sleet, byname, because not quite so white as Snow) took a bite of grass andwondered what all this unaccustomed fuss did mean.
"Snow has pulled my arm out of joint," said Anna, holding fast to hershoulder.
"Never mind your arm, _now_," returned Valentine. "We must get to themarsh. It's the only place. You get a switch, and if Sleet won'tfollow Snow in, you drive her. I _wish_ the critters wasn't white;they show up so; but Washington sha'n't have this calf and cow,_anyhow_."
From Newark Bay to Old Blazing Star Ferry stretched the marsh, deep,dense, well-nigh impassable. Under the orders of General Washington,supported by the approval of the Provincial Congress in session atWhite Plains, the live stock was being driven from the island, andferried across Staten Island Sound to New Jersey. At the same momentthe grand fleet of armed ships from Halifax, England, and elsewhere,was sailing in with General Howe on board and Red Coats enough to eat,at a supper and a dinner, all the live stock on a five-by-seventeenmile island.
Now the Commander-in-chief of the Continental forces at New York didnot wish to afford the aid and comfort to the enemy of furnishinghorses to draw cannon, or fresh meat wherewith to satisfy the hungerof British soldier and sailor. Oh no! On Manhattan Island werebraves--for freedom toiling day and night; building earthwork, redoubtand battery with never a luxury from morning to morning, except theluxury of fighting for Liberty. Soldiers from camp, light-horse andmilitia from New Jersey, had gathered on the island, and had been atwork a day and a night when the news came to the Kull cottage that ina few minutes its cow and calf would be called for. Hence the suddenwatch from the roof, and the escapade from the barn-yard.
The Kull father, I regret to write, because it seems highlyunpatriotic, had gone forth to catch fish that day, hugging up thethought close to his pocket of a heart, that the English fleet wouldpay well for fresh fish.
Now Sleet and Snow were treasures untold to Valentine and Anna Kull.Anna's pocket-money, stored up to be spent once-a-year in New York,came to her hands by the sale of butter to oystermen; and the calf,Snow, was the exclusive property of her brother Valentine. No wonderthey were striving to save their possessions--ignorant, children asthey were, of every good which they could not see and feel.
Cow and calf, or rather calf and cow, never before were given such arace. Highways were ignored. There were not many beaten tracks at thattime on Staten Island. Daisied and clovered fields the calf wasdragged through; young corn and potato lots suffered alike by thepressure of hoof and foot. Anna nearly forgot her out-of-joint armwhen the four reached the marsh. Its friendly-looking shelter washailed with delight.
Said Valentine, tugging the tired calf, to Anna, switching forward theanxious cow: "I should like to see the riflemen from Pennsylvania andthe _Yankeys_ from Doodle or Dandy either, chase Sleet and Snowthrough _this_ marsh."
"It's been _awful_ work though to get 'em here," said Anna, wiping herface with a pink handkerchief suddenly detached for use from hergown.
In plunged the boy and up s-s-cissed a cloud of mosquitoes, humming atthe sound of the new-come feast; fresh flesh and blood from theuplands was desirable.
The grass was green, _very_ green--lovely, bright, _light_ green; theJuly sun shone down untiringly; the tide rushing up from Raritan Baymet the tide rolling over from Newark Bay, and the cool, sweet swashof water snaked along the stout sedge, making it sway and bend asthough the wind were sweeping its tops.
When within the queer infolding, boy, cow, and calf had disappeared,Anna called: "I'll run now and keep watch and tell you when thesoldiers are gone."
"No, _you won't_!" shrieked back her brother; "you'll stay _here_, andhelp me, or the skeeters will kill the critters. Bring me the biggestbush you can find, and fetch one for yourself."
Anna always obeyed Valentine. It was a way she had. He liked it, and,generally speaking, she didn't greatly dislike it, but her dress wasthinner than his coat, and the happy mosquitoes knew she was fairerand sweeter than her Dutch brother, and didn't mind telling her so inthe most insinuating fashion possible. On this occasion, as she had inso many other unlike instances, she acceded to his request; toilingbackward up the ascent and fetching thence an armful of the stoutestboughs she could twist from branches.
She neared the marsh on her return. All that she could discern was astraw hat bobbing hither and thither; the horns of a cow tossing toand fro; the tail of a cow lashing the air.
A voice she heard, shouting forth in impatient bursts of sound, "Anna,Anna Kull!"
"_Here!_ I'm coming," she responded.
"Hurry up! I'm eaten alive. Snow's crazy and Sleet's a lunatic,"shouted her brother, jerking the words forth between the vain diveshis hand made into the cloud of wings in the air.
"Sakes alive!" said poor Anna, toiling from sedge bog to sedge bogwith her burden of "bushes" and striving to hide her face from themosquitoes as she went.
It was nearly noon-day then, and the Fourth of July too, but neitherValentine nor Anna thought of the day of the month. Why should they?The Nation wasn't born yet whose hundredth birthday we keep thisyear.
The solemn assembly of earnest men--debating the to be or not to be ofthe United States--was over there at work in Congress Hall in the oldState House. They were heated with sun and brick and argument; ahundred and ten British ships of war were anchoring and at anchor overon the ocean side of Staten Island. Up the bay, seven or eightthousand troops in "ragged regimentals" were working to make ready forbattle; but not one of them all suffered more from sun and toil andanxiety and greed of blood than did the lad and the lass in themarsh.
They fought it out, with many a sting and smart, another hour, andthen declaring that "cow or no cow they couldn't stay another minute,"they strove to work their way out of the beautiful green of thesedge.
On the meadow-land stood their mother. She had brought dinner for herhungry children,--more
over, she had brought news.
The Yankee troops--the Jersey militia--had gone, but the Britishsoldiers had arrived and demanded beef--beef raw, beef roasted, beefin any form.
The tears that the fiercest mosquito had failed to extort from Annacame now. "I wish I'd let her go," she cried, fondly stroking Sleet."At least she wouldn't have been killed, and we'd had her againsometime, maybe; but now--I say, Valentine, are _you_ going to give upSnow?"
"No, I _ain't_," stoutly persisted the lad, slapping with his broadpalm the panting side of the calf, where mosquitoes still clung.
"But, my poor children," said Mother Kull, "you will _have_ to. It_can't_ be helped. If we refuse them, don't you know, they will burnour house down."
"_If they do, I'll kill them!_" The words shot out from the gunpowderytemper of Anna Kull. Poor innocent girl of thirteen! She never in herlife had seen an act of cruelty greater than the taking of a fish orthe death of a chicken; but the impotent impulse of revenge arosewithin her at the bare idea of having her pet, her pretty Sleet, takenfrom her and eaten by soldiers.
"You'd better keep still, Anna Kull," said Valentine. "Mother, don'tyou think we might hide the animals somewhere?"
"Where?" echoed the poor woman, looking up and looking down.
Truly there seemed to be no place. Already six thousand Britishsoldiers had landed and taken possession of the island. Hills andforests were not high enough nor deep enough; and now the very marshhad cast them out by its army of winged stingers--more dreadful thanhuman foe.
"I just wish," ejaculated the poor sunburned, mosquito-tortured,hungry girl, who stood between marsh and meadow,--"I _wish_ I had 'emevery one tied hand and foot and dumped into the sedge where we'vebeen. Mother, I wouldn't use Sleet's milk to-night, not a drop ofit,--it's crazy milk, I know: she's been tortured so. Poor cow! poorcreature! poor, dear, nice, honest Sleet!" And Anna patted the cowwith loving stroke and laid her head on its neck.
"Well, children, eat something, and then we'll all go home together,--ifthey haven't carried off our cot already," said the mother.
They sat down under a tree and ate with the eager, wholesome appetiteof children. Mrs. Kull kept watch that the cow did not wander farfrom the place.
As they were eating, Valentine said to Anna, nodding his head in thedirection of his mother: "I've thought of something. We must manage tosend _her_ home without us."
"_I've_ thought of something," responded Anna. "Yes, we _must_manage."
"I should like to know _what_ you could think of, sister."
"Should you? Why, think of saving the cow and calf, of course; though,if you're _very_ particular, you can leave the calf here."
"And what will you do with the cow?"
"Put her in the boat--"
"Whew!" interrupted Valentine.
"And ferry her over the sound," continued Anna.
"Who?"
"You and me."
"Do you think we could?"
"We can try."
"That's brave! How's your arm?"
"All right! I jerked it back, slapping mosquitoes."
"Give us another hunkey piece of bread and butter. Honey's goodto-day. I wonder mother thought about it."
"I s'pose," said Anna, "she'd as leave we had it as soldiers. Wouldn'tit be jolly if we could make 'em steal the bees?"
The wind blew east. Up came martial sounds mingled with the break andthe roar of the ocean.
"Oh, dear! They're a coming," gasped Mrs. Kull, running to the spot."They're coming, and your father is not here."
"Hide, hide, my children! Never mind the cow now," she almostshrieked; her mind was running wild with all the scenes of terror shehad ever heard of.
"Pshaw! pshaw! Mother Kull," said her boy, assuringly. "They won'tcome down here. Somebody's guiding them around who knows just whereevery house is. You and Anna get into that thicket yonder and keep,whatever happens, as still as mice."
"What'll _you_ do, bub?" questioned Anna, her sunburned facebrown-pale with affright.
"Oh, I'll take care of myself. Boys always do."
As soon as Mrs. Kull and her daughter were well concealed in thethicket, the sounds began to die away. They waited half an hour. Allwas still. They crept out, gazing the country over. No soldier insight. Down in the marsh again were boy and cow.
"I'll run home now," said Mrs. Kull. "I dare say 'twas all a trick ofmy ears."
"But I heard it, too, Mother Kull."
"Your ears serve you tricks, too, Anna. You wait and help Valentinehome with the animals."
Anna was glad to have her mother gone. She sped to the marsh. Shethreaded it, until by sundry signs she found the trio and summonedthem forth.
The old Blazing Star Ferry was seldom used. A boat lay there. It wasstaunch. The tide with them, they _might_ get it across. Had they beenolder, wiser, they would never have made the attempt.
A fresh water stream ran down to the sea. They passed it on their waythither. In it Sleet drank deep, and soothed for a moment the bitesthat tormented her; the children kneeled on the grassy bank, and drankfrom their palms; the calf frolicked in it, till driven out. An hourwent by. They reached the ferry. It was deserted. Somebody had usedthe boat that day. It was at the shore. Grass was yet in it.
"Come along, Snow," said Valentine, urging with the rope. "Go along,Snow," said Anna, helping it on with a stout twig she had picked up.The calf pranced and ran, and before it knew its whereabouts was inthe broad-bottomed boat. Sleet stood on the shore, and saw her babytied fast. One poor cry the calf uttered. It went home to the motherlyheart of the dumb creature. She went down the sand, over the side, andbegan, in her own way, to comfort Snow.
"Now we are all right!" cried Valentine, delighted with the success ofhis ruse; for he had slyly, lest Anna should see the deed, thrust apin in Snow to call forth the cry and win the cow over to his side.
"Take an oar quick!" commanded the young captain.
His mate obeyed. They pushed the boat out, unfastened it from thepier. Before anybody concerned had time to realize the situation theboat was adrift, and they were whirling in the tide.
"Now, sis," said Valentine, a big lump in his throat, "we're in forit. It is sink or swim. It's not much use to row. You steer and I'llpaddle."
Sleet looked wildly around. She tossed her head, sniffed the salt,oystery air, and seemed about to plunge overboard.
Anna screamed. Valentine threw down his paddle and dashed himself onthe boat's outermost edge just in time to save it from overturning.Mistress Sleet, disgusted with Fourth of July, had made up her mind tolie down and take a nap. The boat righted and they were safe. StatenIsland Sound at this point was narrow, scarcely more than a quarter ofa mile in width, and the tide was fast bearing them out.
"Such uncommon good sense in Sleet," exclaimed the boy. "_That_ cow isworth saving."
At that moment a dozen Red Coats were at the ferry they had just left.The imperious gentlemen were in a fine frenzy at finding the boatgone.
They shouted to the children to return.
"Steady, steady now," cried the young captain. His mate was steady atthe helm until a musket ball or two ran past them.
"Let go!" shouted the captain. "Swing your bonnet. Let them knowyou're a woman and they won't fire on _you_."
The little mate stood erect. She waved her pink flag of a sun-bonnet.Distinctly the soldiers saw the pink frock of Anna Kull; they saw herlong hair as the sea breeze lifted it when she shook her pink banner.
A second, two, three went by as the girl stood there, and then a flashwas seen on the bank, a musket-ball ran through the bonnet of thelittle mate, and the waves of air rattled along the shore.
The bonnet was in the sea; Anna had dropped to her seat and caught thehelm in her left hand.
"Cowards!" cried Valentine, for want of a stronger word, and then hefell to working the boat on its way. The tide helped them now; itswung the boat over toward the Jersey shore.
The firing from Staten Island called out the inhabitants
on the Jerseycoast. They watched the approaching boat with interest. Everythingdepended now on the cow's lying still, on the boy's strength, on themeeting of the tides. If he could reach there before the tide came upall would be well; otherwise it would sweep him off again toward theisland.
"Can't you row?" asked Valentine, at length.
"Bub, I can't," said Anna, her voice shaking out the words. It was thefirst time she had spoken since she sat down.
"Are you hurt?" he questioned.
"I tremble so," she answered, and turned her face away.
"I reckon we'd better help that boy in," said a Jersey fisherman as hewatched, and he put off in a small boat.
"Don't come near! Keep off! keep off!" called Valentine, as he saw himapproach. "I've a cow in here."
The fisherman threw him a rope, and that rope saved them. The dewysmell of the grassy banks had aroused the cow. She was stirring.
The land was very near now; close at hand. "Hurry! hurry!" urged thelad, as they were drawing him in. Before the cow had time to rise, theboat touched land.
"You'd better look after that girl," said the fisherman, who had towedthe boat. The poor child was holding, fast wrapped in the remnants ofher pink frock, her bleeding hand. The musket ball that shot away herbonnet grazed her wrist.
"Never mind me," she said, when they were pitying her. "The cow issafe."
The same evening, while, in Philadelphia, bonfires were blazing, bellsringing, cannon booming, because, that day, a new nation was born;over Staten Island Sound, by the light of the moon, strong-armed menwere ferrying home the girl and the boy, who that day _had_ fought agood fight and gained the victory.
At home, in the Kull cottage, the mother waited long for thecoming of the children. She said; "Poor young things! _Mine ownchildren_--they _shall_ have a nice supper." She made it ready andthey were not come.
Farmer Rycker's wife and daughter came over to tell and hear the news,and yet they were not come.
Sundown. No children. The Kull father came up from his fishing andheard the story.
"The Red Coats have taken them," he said, and down came themusket from against the wall, and out the father marched and madestraightway for the headquarters of General Howe, over at thepresent "Quarantine."
Then the mother, left alone in the soft summer gloaming, fell on herknees and told her story in her own plain speech to her good Father inHeaven.
It was a long story. She had much to say to Heaven that night. Themothers and wives of 1776 in our land spake often unto God. Thismother listened and prayed, and prayed and listened.
The fishermen had left Valentine and Anna on the shore and gone home.Tired, but happy, the brother and sister went up, over sand and fieldand slope, and so came at length within sight of the trees thattowered near home.
"Whistle now!" whispered Anna, afraid yet to speak aloud. "Mother willhear and answer."
Valentine whistled.
Up jumped the mother Kull. She ran to the door and tried to answer.There was no whistle in her lips. Joy choked it.
"Mother, are you _there_?" cried the children.
"No! I'm _here_," was the answer, and she had them safe in her arms.
The Only Woman in the Town, and Other Tales of the American Revolution Page 8
