CHAPTER XI.
FROM CAMP TO PRISON.
"My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate." --JOANNA BAILLIE.
Many times during the day's march did Richard turn his eyes wistfullytoward the blue hills to the south, and wonder beyond which of themBilly was speeding to rejoin his command. The thought had in it such anelement of bitterness that finally he thrust it from him lest it waxinto selfish envy.
Finally they reached their goal, and the vast body of men and animalshalted beside the bay whose waters sparkled under the blue and goldtones of the summer sky. In the offing lay the English fleet, which bythe happiest chance for Clinton had arrived inside the Hook in time toconvey his exhausted army to New York.
The quick, salt wind whipping Richard in the face, gave him a sense ofvigour and reserve strength, which was speedily nipped by a chillingrealization of his hopeless captivity. Mechanically he ate and drankwhen the guard bade him; for the prison bars were now inevitable, and hewould lie rusting his heart and manhood out while the fight went byoutside. In an agony of despair he cursed the impetuous daring that hadled him so far in advance of his column as to deliver him into the handsof the enemy. And he cursed both the moonlight that had flooded the roadthe first night of their march, and the guard whose lynx eyes seemedever upon him; and finally he cursed himself more sorely than aughtelse, because he had not followed Billy at all hazards and let a bulletend the problem forever.
But life is sweet to youth, and hope finds ever a place in the heartthat is full of an unsatisfied love; and so by the time he had finishedhis spare meal he was ready to look at the future with more calmness.Outside in the free world Joscelyn would wait for him, and prison doorsmust sometimes yawn. The soldier who brought him his supper stayed for afew minutes to talk. He had a frank, friendly face that Richard liked.
"So we gave your sly general the slip after all, and held to our marchas we at first intended."
"Did Clinton originally and intentionally propose to make a night marchat almost double-quick over such roads as we have traversed? D--d queermilitary tactics."
The fellow grinned. "Oh, a little change of programme mattered not, sowe lost not a single wagon of our train. See, they are yonder, as safeas a ship in port."
"Mayhap; but you saved your skins whole by stealing away from Monmouthlike a thief in the night, and, leaving the foe you pretended todespise, camped on the battle-ground."
"Oh, we begrudge not you fellows a camping ground--we are not thatgreedy."
"No; you wanted them, in fact, to have all the ground in the vicinity,even if you had to be so unselfish as to march all night to leave it tothem."
"Come, your tongue's too sharp," the fellow said irritably.
"Sharper than your general's wits, if he took that march out of anythingbut necessity. He has saved his baggage train, but, mark you, he haslost his cause. Our victory at Monmouth will hearten up the doubtful andsend them flocking to our camp."
The man laughed satirically at the word "victory," and then said:--
"Well, at all events, your part of the flocking is done for good. 'Tisnot likely you'll see the outside of a prison for more months than youare years old--if by any chance your general hangs on that long, whichis not likely."
Richard shivered at mention of a prison, but shrugged his shoulders withoutward calm. "A man must bear the fortunes of war, if he be a truesoldier. Prison life is harder than fighting, but some must carry theheavy end of the burden, and 'tis not for me to bemoan if it falls tome. Know you in which of your pest holes we are like to be confined?"
The soldier looked into the clear, steady eyes for a moment beforereplying: "You're a rum chap to take your medicine without a whine. Ilike your sort, and I hope, when this cursed war is done, you'll befound alive; but it isn't likely, for methinks you are to go to the oldSugar House in New York. 'Tis as full as an ant-hill now, but they'llshove the poor devils a bit closer together and squeeze you in. You'llhave plenty of time, but not much room, to meditate on your evil doingsagainst King George. Still, I hope you'll live through it."
He picked up the empty can out of which the prisoner had been drinking,and moved on. Richard, who had been sitting upright during theconversation, sank back upon the ground and pulled his cap overhis eyes. The old Sugar House! Too well he knew of the misery anddegradation in store for those who crossed its threshold. No escapeswere ever effected, and the hope of exchange, unless one were anofficer, was too slim to dwell upon; Washington's captures went forhigher game than privates and raw recruits. But two things could openthese relentless gates to him--death or the end of the struggle; andthe latter seemed far enough away.
And Joscelyn! would she care that he suffered and died by inches? Wouldshe think of him regretfully, tenderly, when all was done? It was hardto love a girl of whose very sympathy one was not sure; and yet he knewhe had rather have her mockery than another woman's caresses.
For an hour he lay upon the ground, his heart convulsed with grief, buthis body so rigidly quiet that his companions thought he slept. Theycould not tell that under his cap his eyes were staring wide, seeing,not the cap above, but a girl's face framed in soft meshes of hair andlit by eyes as gray-blue as the sea when the tides are quiescent and thewinds are fast asleep. By and by the intense heat of the evening set thewound in his head to throbbing, and rousing up, he begged the corporalof the guard for a little water and a bandage. The man--the same withwhom he had talked before--brought these to him after a little delay,and found for him in his own kit a bit of healing salve, which hisEnglish mother had given him at parting.
"She said 'twould cure bad blood, and methinks yours is bad enough toput it to the test," he said, laughing, and yet with a certain roughkindliness.
"Well, since it hath not killed you, methinks I am safe," Richardlaughed back gratefully, while one of his comrades dressed the wound,which gave promise of speedy healing.
"What is your name?" he asked of the corporal.
"James Colborn, of the King's Artillery."
"Well, 'tis a pity you are in such bad employ, for you have an uncommongood heart and a face that matches it. When General Washington hathlicked the boots off you fellows, come down south and pay me a visit. Mymother'll be so grateful for every kind word you have spoken to me, thatshe'll feed you on good cookery until you are as fat as a Michaelmasgoose."
"I'll come," the other laughed, "but I'll wear my boots; it will be youfellows who will go barefooted from a licking."
"Don't wager your birthright on that; you'd lose even the mess ofpottage."
Under the relief the dressing of his wound afforded, Richard fellasleep, and his dreams must have been comforting, for on his face wasa smile of happiness, and the words he murmured made the corporal ofthe guard laugh to himself as he trod to and fro before the open tent.
"Have you a favourite dog named Joscelyn?" he asked teasingly, when heroused Richard for supper.
"No."
"A horse, then?"
Richard looked at him questioningly, half-inclined to be angry.
"You have been talking in your sleep."
"Joscelyn is not a dog nor a horse; she is my sweetheart."
"Mine's named Margie."
There was a moment of silence during which the two young fellows feltalmost akin with friendly sympathy. They longed to shake hands and telleach other their love tales.
"Margie's eyes are black," said Colborn softly.
"Joscelyn has sea-blue eyes."
"I like black ones better."
"I'd love Joscelyn's eyes, were they as vari-coloured as Joseph's coat."
"Well said." The speaker thrust his hand into his shirt and drew out ametal case which contained a picture of a buxom English girl. "It took awhole month's pay to have that made, but I wasn't coming to Americawithout bringing a likeness of her to look at. When I am promoted to acaptaincy I shall have it set in gold and brilliants. She is countingthe m
onths until I go back to her," he continued with a burst ofconfidence, while his honest face flamed with a boyish blush. "For everyweek I am away, she drops a pebble into a china jar I gave her, that Imay count the kisses she shall owe me when we meet. Never you doubt butI shall cheat in the count, though I have to carry back a pocketful ofAmerican pebbles to help me out!" Then, by way of prelude to that cominghappiness, he kissed the picture with eager frankness before returningit to the case, saying there were already twelve pebbles in the jar.
Many times during the few days when the army lay encamped upon the sandyreaches of the Hook did Richard have occasion to be grateful to theyoung corporal for little acts of kindness, and in return he told himsomething of his own life, so that a curious friendship was formedbetween the two; and when the embarkation finally came, Richard wasglad to find that the same guard and officers would have the prisonersin charge until the dreaded doors of the jail should close upon them.
As they marched clankily down the streets of New York, he believed thatnow he knew how condemned men felt as they approached the gallows, onlythe gallows seemed better than those frowning walls yonder, at whosenarrow windows the miserable inmates stood in relays that each mightdraw a few good breaths during the long and suffocating day. The oldSugar House! He set his teeth hard when at last they stood before itsdoors, and the first squad of prisoners passed out of sight within itsgloomy portals. He was telling the sunshine and the clouds good-bybefore his turn to enter should come, when, to his surprise, the doorsswung to, and the squad in which he marched was wheeled down anotherstreet. After a few minutes he caught Colborn's eye, and read thereintidings of some new disaster. Whither were they carrying him and hisunfortunate companions! No faintest hint of their destination came tohim, until, the city being crossed, they halted again, this time besidethe water's edge, far to the east. As some delay was evident, thecorporal bade the prisoners sit down upon the shore; and while his menformed in the rear to watch, he himself passed slowly up and down thewater's edge, stopping at last beside Richard, who sat at the end ofthe line of captives as much to himself as possible, for his heart washeavy with a new forboding.
"In ten minutes," said the corporal, speaking quickly and in anundertone, "I shall have parted with you, perhaps forever. I know youfor a brave man and a generous one, and I am sorry for your fate. Theplan has been changed. The Sugar House would not hold all of you; so,for lack of other accommodations, this squad of prisoners is orderedto--"
"Where?"
"--to the prison-ships lying across the bay."
Richard staggered up. "The hells, the floating hells!"
"Yes, that is what they are sometimes called."
"My God!" For a moment the fortitude that had sustained him during thelast ten days gave way, and he sank down again, covering his face withhis hands in a dry-eyed anguish.
"I wish from my soul that I might have helped you, but this is all I cando," the corporal said. "Pick them up as a gift from a brother in arms."He surreptitiously dropped some coins upon the sand, and Richard, morebecause of the friendliness of the gift than because he thought of theirvalue, ran his fingers through the sand and picked them up, shoving theminto a torn place in the lining of his boot.
"You have been good to me--" he began slowly, and with the look of a manwho is talking unconsciously; but with an impatient shrug the other hadmoved away. When he had walked the length of the line and stood lookingover the water a minute, he came again to Richard's side, apparentlywith no special object in view. His voice was very low as he said:--
"True soldiers respect each other, no matter what the colour of theiruniforms. I guessed--but I want to know for certain--did you let thelittle lad escape the other night rather than go by yourself and leavehim?"
Richard nodded. Colborn took off his hat. Those who watched him from thesand and from the picket line thought he but bared his head to the coolsea breeze, but in truth it was to a brave man's self-sacrifice. AScripture verse was running in his head: "Greater love hath no man thanthis, that he give his life for his friend." But he did not speak it,for a boat grating on the sand behind made him turn.
"The ship's warden to receive you," he said, with a quick-drawn breath."God help you!" Then aloud: "Attention!"
The prisoners arose and lined up as the boat's crew came ashore. Thewarden conferred a few minutes with the corporal, went over the list ofprisoners, counted them carefully, eying each one sternly as he did so;then turned again to the corporal, who, after another short conference,stepped out before the line of prisoners.
"Attention! My care of you ends here. The warden of the prison-shipswill henceforth have you in charge." At a signal his men fell back, andthe crew from the ship's long-boat took their places; the two officerssaluted, and the corporal stepped aside.
"Attention! Forward! March!" the warden shouted, pointing with his swordto the boat; and the handful of dazed and miserable captives, like somany automatons, caught step and sullenly moved to the water. AsRichard, who brought up the rear, passed Colborn, the latterwhispered:--
"Your Joscelyn shall know," and Richard's eyes spoke his thanks.
Then the boat drew away from shore, carrying its freight of helplessdespair to the plague-infected hulk rocking in the tide, the playthingof the winds, the sport of every leaping wave that cast its crystalfringes to the sun.
Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas Page 11
