CHAPTER III
THE MEETING ON THE RIVER
"I'VE been here since noon," began Peter, "but it seems more like awhole day to me. I've listened to the calls of the sea-birds and heardthe roar of the storm which I knew was coming, till it almost seemed tome I couldn't bear it any longer. I'm glad you've come, for I've got achance to stretch now, and the sound of a voice will help to quiet mynerves again."
"I didn't know you had any nerves," replied Tom. "But we can't standhere in this storm talking about such things. Benzeor sent me over tofind out what you meant by hanging out the white flag. You haven't seenanything suspicious, have you?"
"I have that," said Peter eagerly. "I was beginning to think that mycoming here was all a piece of foolishness, when along about fouro'clock--leastwise I should think it was about that time, though Ididn't have any dial anywhere about to mark the time for me--whatshould I see but a whaleboat making for the river? You had betterbelieve I forgot all about the time and everything else but the boatthen, for I didn't know but some more of the Greens were coming up theNavesink on another trip such as they made the other day."
Peter referred to an expedition which a band of several hundred toriesfrom New Jersey, commonly known as the "Greens," had made a few weeksbefore this time. They had set forth from New York and had made a visitto some of their former neighbors and friends, and the tokens of theiraffection which they had left behind them had chiefly consisted of theashes of burned homes and empty barns. The raid had been a cruel one,and its object apparently was more for devastation than for plunder, andmany of the good people of Red Bank and Middletown and the adjoiningtowns had good cause to remember it so long as they lived. The numbersof the invaders had rendered them safe from all attacks, and the wantondestruction they wrought before they returned to New York had been thechief reason for keeping a watch stationed in the old tree every daysince their visit. And Peter had received strict orders not to departfrom his place of observation, if he saw anything suspicious, until hewas satisfied that all danger was past. And Peter was faithful, that waswell known, or he would not have been selected for the duty that day.
"Well," resumed Peter, "I watched the boat till it went out of sight upthe river. There were seven men on board of her, six of 'em pulling atthe oars and the seventh steering. No more boats followed her, and Ishouldn't have been suspicious if I hadn't thought I recognized the manwho was steering."
"Who was he?"
"He looked to me a good deal like Fenton."
"What? The pine robber?"
"Yes, though of course I may have been mistaken. I never saw him butonce and that was when he was a blacksmith over by the Court Housebefore the war. My father had sent me over there to have one of thehorses shod at his shop. I don't know that I should have remembered himif it hadn't been for something he did that day. I saw him take ahalf-inch bar of iron and bend it almost double with his hands. Thatmade a great impression upon me, for I didn't believe there was anotherman in the colony who could do that."
"Probably not," replied Tom. "But what made you think this was one ofFenton's whaleboats?"
"Nothing but Fenton himself. Of course I've heard of the stories of whathe's been doing since he became a pine robber. His gang is one of theworst, you know, and the minute I set my two eyes on him I suspected itwas Fenton himself."
"Why didn't you get word up the river as soon as you saw him?"
"They've got watchers farther up, and that's their business. Besides, Ididn't care to have him double me up the way he did that iron bar. Then,my business was to stay here and give the warning to anybody that mightbe going up the stream, you see. That's why I waved the flag when I sawyou coming."
"And they haven't come back yet?" inquired Tom eagerly.
"No. That's what I'm waiting for. There isn't any fun in hanging outhere in the wet, I can tell you. Just as soon as I can see thatwhaleboat coming out into the bay again I'm done."
"All right, Peter, I'll go right back and report to Benzeor. Maybe he'lltake you on board and carry you home."
"Not unless I see the whaleboat again," said Peter doggedly as heprepared to climb to his seat in the tree again.
Tom hurriedly departed and started to return with his message to thewaiting Benzeor and his men, who he knew would be becoming impatient bythis time. As he ran along the beach the storm smote him full in theface, but in spite of the driving rain the night was not very dark. Themoon was near the full and gave sufficient light to enable him to seefar out over the tossing waters. He could even discern the outlines ofthe little boat far up the shore, and as he ran swiftly forward he wasthinking of the report he was to make to the waiting Benzeor, and histhoughts were not entirely pleasing.
Fenton's deeds had become notorious in Old Monmouth. At the head of hisbrutal band, composed of men as desperate and reckless as he, he hadpillaged and plundered throughout the county during the preceding year,and up to this time no one had been found strong enough to put a stop tohis evil deeds. Any unprotected farmhouse was liable to receive one ofhis visits, and such a visit was seldom made without profit to theoutlaws, for such in fact they were, and with their ill-gotten gainsthey hastened away to store them in their hiding-places among the pines.
Nor was Fenton's band the only one which had its headquarters in thatlonely and unfrequented region known in Old Monmouth as the "Pines."West, Disbrow, Fagan, Davenport, and many others of the lawless men, hadengaged in similar occupations, and all had their hiding-places in thesame wild spot, and in a measure protected and aided one another.
Up to this time Fagan had been the only one to suffer the well-deservedpenalty of his crimes, and in the preceding winter a band of two hundredof the desperate patriots had assembled and driven the famous, or ratherinfamous, outlaw to bay. At last he had been taken, and the infuriatedmen, mindful not only of the sufferings of their own families at hishands, but also of their possible future sufferings as well, hadmeasured out a stern justice to the man, and with their own hands hadhanged him from the long limb of a tree which stood by the side of theroad which led from Monmouth Court House[1] to Trenton. Afterwards someof the patriots who had suffered most from his evil deeds had severedthe skull from the body and nailed it to the tree, and then, placing thepipe between the grinning jaws, had left the uncanny sight as a warningto all who might be disposed to follow in the footsteps of the outlaw.
For a few weeks the suffering patriots found relief, but only for a fewweeks.
Despite the terrible warning, the other bands of pine robbers soonrenewed their labors, and now in the early summer of '78 the region wassuffering more from the marauding bands than ever had been known before.
It was all a part of the horrors of war. Sometimes, when we read of thebrave deeds which have made famous some of the men who had a share inthe struggle, we are prone to think only of the heroism displayed. Andthere was many a true hero in that and in every other war which ourcountry has waged. We are never to forget that; but there was anotherside which has, to a large extent, passed from the memory of the presentgeneration. The loss of property and of life, the sufferings of thewomen and children in the lonely homes, the barbarity and cruelty ofevil men who, freed from the restraint of law in a time when the worstpassions of men were aroused, gave free rein to their avarice and allthat was bad in them, have frequently been ignored or forgotten. Theglory of war or the pride in true heroism cannot entirely atone for thesufferings that were only too common in the scattered homes or lonelyplaces.
And Fenton's band was one of the worst. From their strongholds among thepines, into which few men had the hardihood to enter, they would setforth on horseback some dark night, and the tale they might have toldupon their return was ever one of blood and sorrow. People tortureduntil in their agony they were compelled to yield up their scantysavings, raids upon the flocks and herds already becoming far too smallfor the necessities of their owners, burning houses, and men and womendeliberately shot by the outlaws, were only a few among the many resultsof
their raids.
Not the least of the evils was the knowledge that among the people ofMonmouth there were some who, while they might not openly be known asmembers of the bands, still gave the desired information to the leadersas to the places where possessions were secreted, or of the times whenthe patriots were aroused and it was best for the "Barons of the Pines,"as some termed them, to remain in hiding among the tall dark trees.Professedly, the outlaws acknowledged no allegiance to either side inthe struggle, but somehow it had come to pass that a stanch whig wasliable to suffer far more from their depredations than his toryneighbor, and as a natural consequence the feeling between neighbors andthose who had been friends was becoming more and more strained andbitter.
Thoughts of these things were passing rapidly through Tom's mind as heran swiftly on through the storm to rejoin his companions. Fenton? Yes,he had heard of him too many times not to recognize his name and to feelwell assured that a visit from him in such a night could promise littlegood for any of the patriots dwelling near the Navesink.
"Well, what is it, Tom?" said Benzeor, as the panting lad rejoined them."Is it Little Peter on the lookout? He must have seen a ghost to havewarned us to stay out here in the bay in such a night as this. I'm wetto the skin."
"It's Fenton," replied Tom huskily, for he had not yet recovered hisbreath. "Peter said he saw him and six of his men go up the Navesinkabout four o'clock."
"Fenton?" said Jacob quickly. "Then we're in for a night of it. We don'twant to fall into the hands of that pine robber when our pockets are aswell lined as they are to-night."
"I'm not so sure about that," replied Benzeor slowly. "There's tenchances to one that they won't come back before morning, and if they dothey won't be likely to find us in such a storm as this."
As he spoke a fresh gust swept the rain directly into their faces. Thestorm certainly was increasing, and the prospect of spending a night inthe bay was dreary enough to cause the most stout-hearted to hesitate.And it may have been that other thoughts than that of the storminfluenced Benzeor.
At any rate he gruffly responded, "You can do as you please, but I'mgoing up the Navesink. If you're afraid, you can stay here or start outacross the country on foot. You'll have to speak quick if you go withme, for I'm off."
Benzeor turned and grasped the bow of his boat to push her off thebeach upon which she had grounded. Before he had succeeded, however,Jacob spoke up quickly and said, "We're with you, Benzeor. If you canstand it, we can."
"Get aboard then, every one of you!" said Benzeor gruffly.
Tom and Barzilla quickly took their places in the stern, while Benzeor,with the aid of Jacob, soon sent the boat out from the shore.
The sail was soon rigged and shortened, and the little party thenstarted for the narrow mouth of the Navesink. The boat rolled andpitched in the storm, but Benzeor had her well in hand, and soon steeredinto the more quiet waters of the river. Tom could see the tree as theypassed, and was positive that Peter could also see them, but no hail wasgiven, and the point was soon left far behind them.
Then up the narrower waters of the river the boat sped on in her course,but not a word was spoken by any of those on board. The storm was stillraging and Benzeor's attention was largely occupied in managing hiscraft, and the others were busied with thoughts which perhaps they didnot care to express.
Tom was decidedly anxious. A meeting with Fenton and his band wassomething of which he was fearful, and as they sped on his fearsincreased each moment. Benzeor's apparent indifference had not deceivedhim, and deep in his heart there was a lurking suspicion that perhaps hemight be able to account for it, if he felt so disposed.
However, he too was silent, and a half hour had passed and as yet nosigns of danger had appeared. Benzeor was steering as close inshore asthe wind permitted, and Tom was beginning to hope that they wouldsucceed in making their way up the river without being discovered.
Suddenly Jacob, who was seated in the bow and was keeping a constantlookout ahead, shouted, "Port! Port your helm, Benzeor! Quick! Quick!"
Benzeor instantly heeded the warning, but his quick movement barelyserved to enable them to pass a boat which loomed up in the darkness. Itwas a whaleboat, and with a sinking heart Tom saw that there were sixmen rowing, while a seventh was seated in the stern and was serving ashelmsman.
Instantly Peter's words flashed into his mind, and he knew that they hadbarely escaped a collision with the very boat which the lookout haddiscovered making its way up the Navesink late in the afternoon. Theparty could be none other than that of Fenton and his outlaw band.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Freehold.
Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778 Page 3
