CHAPTER IX
THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT
IT was long before daylight when the boys were stirring on the morningwhich followed the events recorded in the preceding chapter. No one haddisturbed them, and with the return of the day their courage wassomewhat revived. Tom, however, had decided to start at once for thearmy, which he knew from Indian John's words was not many miles away. Hewas thoroughly familiar with all the roads in the county, for he hadridden over them many times in company with Benzeor, or when he had beensent on errands to the more remote regions by his foster father, andconsequently had no fears of losing his way.
Little Peter did not urge his friend to accompany him on his expeditionto Refugee Town, for he was aware of the perils that were likely tobeset him on his journey. He would not listen to any of the protests ofTom, for he was fully determined to learn what had become of hisfather, and even share his experiences if the occasion demanded. And Tomcould not find it in his heart to blame Little Peter, hopeless as heconsidered all his efforts likely to be. Perhaps he would do the samething if his own father had been carried away by the pine robbers, andhe found himself conjecturing how it was a boy would feel in suchcircumstances as those in which his friend had been placed. The feelingwas one of which he knew nothing by experience, and his own lonelinessseemed to press upon him with a heavier weight.
However, he still said nothing to Little Peter concerning Benzeor'srecent actions, for he was well assured that his friend's youngerbrothers and sisters could be in no place where they would so easilyescape all further troubles for the present as in his foster father'shouse; and then all of Little Peter's plans would be changed at once ifhe knew the part which his neighbor had taken in the tragedy which hadrecently occurred.
"Perhaps Indian John will go with me," said Little Peter. "He'll be agreat help if he'll go."
"That he will," replied Tom, "and I'm sure he'll be glad to go withyou. I should like to go myself."
"That's all right, Tom; I know you would, but you couldn't do any good,and might only get into trouble yourself. Perhaps I'll be with you in aday or two, if I don't hear anything about my father down by RefugeeTown,--that is, if Benzeor is willing for the children to stay in hishouse. I'll have to look after them, you see, for it's likely I'll haveto be father and mother, as well as big brother, now," he added sadly.
"I know, I know," said Tom; "but I'm hoping you'll have good luck, andif the army really is coming here, it may be that you'll get some helpfrom the Continentals if you need it then. Good-by, Peter."
"Good-by, Tom," replied his friend.
Tom placed some bread in his pockets, and then started forth on hisjourney. Somewhere off towards Hopewell the American army must be,according to all the reports which had come, and to that place he mustmake his way. The time for which he had been waiting at last had come,and with a lighter heart than he had known for days the lad began hisjourney.
The summer morning was clear and warm. The birds were flitting about inthe trees and filling the air with their songs. In spite of the heat,there was a delicious freshness in the early morning air, and as hewalked rapidly forward he soon came to feel a sense of exhilarationwhich not even the loss and grief of his boy friend could entirelybanish.
By the time the sun rose red and full in the east, he had placed severalmiles between him and Little Peter's home, but with unabated zeal hesteadily pushed onward, resolved to make the best possible use of theearly hours before the more intense heat of the day should come.
By the middle of the forenoon more than ten miles had been left behindhim, but he was beginning to feel the effects of his exertions. His facewas flushed and streaming with perspiration. The rough road was hot anddusty, for only a single day had been required to dry out all thevestiges of the recent storm. He was beginning to feel somewhat tired,and was about to stop for a brief rest by the roadside, when he saw someone approaching on horseback.
He quickly drew back among the trees which grew close to the road,thereby hoping to escape all notice by the stranger; but his plan wasquickly changed when he discovered, as the horseman came nearer, that hewas clad in the uniform of the Continental army. His relief was greaterwhen he recognized the man as the son of one of Benzeor's neighbors, whomore than a year before this time had enlisted and had passed thepreceding winter in Valley Forge.
He quickly resolved to hail the man as he passed, and accordinglystepped out into the road and waved his arms as a signal for thehorseman to stop. The man quickly heeded, and as he drew the rein andchecked his horse he peered down at the lad by the roadside, and Tom'sfears were instantly relieved when he perceived that he had beenrecognized.
"Why, Tom Coward, what are you doing here? Nothing wrong over home, isthere?"
"Yes, there is;" and Tom at once proceeded to give young LieutenantGordon an account of all that had occurred in the past three days.
"That's bad," said the lieutenant slowly, patting his horse's drippingneck as he spoke. "That's bad. I wish I could take a company and go overthere this minute. I can't, though; it's out of the question. But thearmy will be here shortly now, and there may be a chance to give thesepine robbers a dose then. Where are you going now, Tom?"
"I thought I'd start for the army," replied Tom. "I've no other place togo to, and I've been waiting to join it a long time."
The lieutenant smiled at the lad's words as he replied, "That's allright. You're a well-grown fellow, and I doubt not they'll find a placesomewhere for you in the Jersey militia. There are younger fellows thanyou there."
"So I hear," replied Tom eagerly. "Indian John told me the army was overby Hopewell, and had halted there, so I thought I'd put straight forthat place."
"There isn't very much of the militia there now," said the lieutenant."They're mostly regulars at Hopewell, and I doubt not have started fromthere before this."
"Where are the militia then?" said Tom quickly. "I've got a rifle here,and if I'm to join them I want to know where they are."
"That would be a little difficult to say just at present, my lad,"replied the lieutenant, assuming a more fatherly air than thedifference between their years would seem to warrant. "That would be alittle difficult to say."
As Tom plainly showed his disappointment, the young officer continued:"You see it's this way, Tom. It was early in the morning of the 18thwhen the last of General Clinton's forces marched out of the city ofPhiladelphia. They went by the way of Gloucester Point, about threemiles below Camden, and then the entire force, with Knyphausen and hisHessians in advance, marched over to Haddonfield and halted there. Wehad means up at Valley Forge of finding out what was going on, andbefore they were fairly out of Philadelphia some of our scouting partiesand light horse were in the city, and they gathered in about sixty orseventy prisoners and were back again at the Forge with the men and thenews. By three o'clock that same day General Lee's division had started,and by five o'clock General Wayne's had gone, too. They lost no timeover there, I can tell you."
"But I don't understand," said Tom. "Where are the militia, and what areyou doing here?"
"That's what I'm explaining to you," replied the lieutenant. "Well, atfive o'clock the next morning,--that was the 19th of June, youknow,--Washington had the rest of the army on the march for Coryell'sFerry; but the roads were so heavy--for we've been having some greatrains this month--that the divisions which had been sent out didn'tcross the Delaware until Saturday morning, and the main body tillMonday. And all this time the British were mighty careful, let me tellyou. They thought Washington was after their baggage-wagons and stores,you see. Clinton and his main body moved out of Haddonfield on Friday,but he left Knyphausen and his Dutch butchers, as well as two brigadesof the regulars behind him, while he marched eight miles up to Eveshamand went into camp there. He wanted to keep his train of baggage-wagonswell protected, you see, for the militia were doing all sorts ofmischief. You wanted to know where they were. Well, that's where theywere."
"They're away down at Haddonfield, then, ar
e they?"
"No, no. But they'd been sent out to bother the British, you see, andtry to hold them back by skirmishes and a few such gentle deeds. Theywere tearing up bridges and firing at the regulars from the woods, anddoing all sorts of things. Why, when Clinton was marching fromHaddonfield to Evesham, General Leslie, who was in command of hisadvanced guard, fell in with a party of these very militia I'm tellingyou about. Leslie hid some of his men in a rye-field, and they sawCaptain Jonathan Beesley. He was a captain in the Cumberland Countymilitia, you know, and had been in the army two years,--yes, and he wasone of the best men we ever had, too, let me tell you. Well, Leslie'smen saw Beesley and a couple of his officers reconnoitring in advance oftheir companies, and they fired on them. Captain Beesley was wounded,and of course they took him prisoner and carried him with them intocamp. They tried to get him to own up what Washington's plans were, butCaptain Beesley just stopped them by saying they wouldn't get a word outof him. And they didn't; but the next day the poor fellow died from hiswounds. They'd taken him into Hinchman Haines's house, you see, and thatwas where he died. I understand that they buried him there with thehonors of war, and I understand, too, that they've given permission forthe body to be taken up and placed in the Friends' burying-ground downat Haddonfield. It may have been done before this, for all that I know.Captain Beesley was a good man. The redcoats couldn't do too much forhim."
"But where are the militia now? That's what I want to know."
"And that's what I'm trying to tell you. This is too hot to be standingout here in the road. Let's go into the shade. I've got time enough, andit may be a bit safer there, too."
The lieutenant led his horse a short distance into the woods, and,slipping the bridle-rein over his head, he permitted him to graze, whilehe himself resumed his story.
"At four o'clock the next morning,--that was Saturday, the20th,--Clinton took up the line of march, but he only went seven miles,as far as Mount Holly, and there he halted till Monday. On Sunday,Knyphausen joined him, having marched by the way of Moorestown. The nextmorning they all marched on to Black Horse and halted again, but at fiveo'clock Tuesday morning they were up and at it once more. They dividedtheir forces there a bit, Leslie going by the way of Bordentown,Clinton keeping on along the road to Crosswicks, while Grant and theDutch butchers brought up the rear and served as a kind of guard for thebaggage-train. All this was only yesterday, the 23d, you see."
"But where are the militia now?" protested Tom. "They are the ones Iwant to join, not the British. You keep telling me about them. What Iwant is the other side."
"Listen, then, and you shall hear. Yesterday General Dickinson, with theJersey militia, was right there in Bordentown."
"What! when the British came up?"
"Yes, when the British came up, that is, when Leslie's division did. Notall of the militia were there, though. A good many had been withdrawnand posted where they could do the most good. There weren't very manyleft in Bordentown, but when they found out that Leslie was almost uponthem, they made up their minds in very short order that the climatethere was not the best in the world, so they cleared out and left. Butbefore they went they left a few slight tokens of their regard. Theypulled up the planks of the bridge there over Crosswicks Creek, andraised the draw so that Leslie had to find another crossing-place.Before they did that they tried to fix up the bridge, but they werefired upon, and I understand that four were killed and quite a largenumber were wounded.
"Clinton, too, wasn't finding his road all covered over with roseseither. About five hundred of our men met him as he came up nearer toCrosswicks, and they thought they were ready, but they weren't anythingof the kind. They had cut down a lot of trees and stretched them acrossthe road, but that didn't stop the British. They came on just as if theydidn't mind marching over such little things as trees, and there was alittle skirmish there, and two or three of the redcoats were killed. Oneof their officers was shot and they took him up to a house near by, andleft him there. Of course the Americans couldn't stand there long, butthey didn't run very far.
"Well, the British divisions joined then and started on again. They cameto another bridge and our men had it all fixed so that they could justlet it fall by one or two strokes of an axe. They had one or two littlecannons there, too."
"Who did? The British?"
"No, our men. You know Sam Clevenger, don't you? Well, he stood thereon the bridge with his axe in his hands when the British came in sight.He'd cut the sleepers almost through, and when he saw the redcoatscoming, he lifted his axe, and the third time he struck down went thebridge and all. Then Clevenger started to run, but the British fired athim and he fell dead. They'd shot him in the back of the head. Our menthen fired their cannon once or twice, but all they hit was the Friends'meeting-house. Of course the British didn't mind that, and then our menpulled back and left. That was only yesterday. I shouldn't be surprisedif the British were over here by Allentown or Imlaystown now, or it maybe both."
"What! not more than ten or fifteen miles away?" said Tom excitedly.
"That's what I say. And they'll be nearer, too, before they're fartheroff, let me tell you."
"Why? How? What do you mean?"
"They'll never go to Brunswick or Amboy, for Washington's right in frontof them, and ready to head them off. They'll just have to come this wayor go back, and that they won't do, for 'Britons never retrograde.'That's one of their pet words, you know. Isn't that what John Burgoynesaid, too?"
"I don't know anything about that," said Tom. "Then General Washingtonhas been using a part of the militia and a part of the regulars tobother Clinton and keep him from getting to Brunswick or Amboy, has he?"
"Yes, that's just it."
"Well, I shan't have very far to go, then, to join them now."
"Oh, you're not going to join them. You're coming with me. You're justsuch a lad as I have been looking for, and you can help me, if I'm notgreatly mistaken."
As Tom made no reply except to look up in surprise, the young officer atonce began to explain to him the nature of the task to which he hadreferred.
Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778 Page 9
