CHAPTER XXIX
AFTER THE BATTLE
TOM COWARD, as we know, had been selected to serve as one of the guidesof the American army. The roads were not so numerous as to cause anyfear of serious trouble from confusion; but boys and young men from theregion were nevertheless assigned to this duty, and in some instanceswere said to have been so greatly excited as to have failed in findingthe way themselves. To this cause some assigned the failure of Morgan'sdragoons to enter the battle; but doubtless there were other causes aswell which prevented that terrible band of riflemen from having a sharein the struggle.
Tom had been reserved to move with the troops that were under thecommand of General Washington himself, and that followed the divisionwhich General Lee had failed to lead into battle. Frightened as the ladwas, he still noted keenly all that was occurring about him, and hadbeen as highly excited as any over the interview which took placebetween Washington and Lee when the latter was retreating. Theimpressions he there received were those which the people of OldMonmouth ever after retained concerning Charles Lee, for he wasremembered, not for his experiences abroad or for his successes in thesouth, but as the man who had been the traitor in the battle.
When the engagement began, Tom's duties as guide were ended, but as noone gave him any instructions, he was driven from one band of men toanother, and while he still retained the rifle which he had taken whenhe had departed from Benzeor's house, he had not made any use of it.
For a time he remained within sight of the young lieutenant, and theywere together when in the early part of the battle Captain Molly haddone the deed which has caused her name to be remembered until this day.Molly had marched with her husband, and as the advanced batteries openedfire upon each other the intrepid woman had been running back and forthbetween the men and a little spring, which was near by, bringing waterto her husband and his companions. Her task was no light one in the heatof that day.
As she had started to return from one of her visits to the spring, sheturned just in time to see her husband fall as he was advancing to hispost, for he was a cannoneer, as we already know. Molly hastily ran tohis assistance, but she at once perceived that he was dead. She heard anofficer order the cannon to be moved from its position, but instantlycontrolling her grief, she declared her purpose to take her husband'splace. Amidst the cheers of the men she did so, and so bravely and welldid she perform the duty, that after the battle was ended General Greenehimself presented her to the great commander and related the story ofher bravery. Washington added his words of praise and bestowed upon hera lieutenant's commission. The men received the news with loud cheers,and then themselves bestowed upon "Molly Pitcher" the title of "CaptainMolly," and as Captain Molly she was known thereafter.
Another story, told afterwards by the Frenchmen, reflected great creditupon General Clinton, and perhaps in a measure atoned for the action ofthat commander in wantonly burning so many of the houses in OldMonmouth. An American officer with about twenty of his men advancedunder the English batteries to observe their position. The redcoatsopened fire, and the officer's aid-de-camp fell at his side. The men,who were dragoons, instantly turned and fled,--that is, all save theofficer, who, although he was directly under the fire of the cannon,calmly dismounted and advanced to discover whether the fallen man wasdead or not, or whether the wound had been mortal. Quickly discoveringthat the man was dead, the American officer, visibly weeping, turned andremounted his horse and slowly rejoined his comrades. The officer wasthe young Marquis de Lafayette, and his white charger had beenrecognized by General Clinton, who himself ordered his men not to fire,and doubtless thereby saved the life of the brave young nobleman. It waslong cherished as the one deed of mercy in the midst of a campaign andbattle which left its marks of suffering and sorrow on every side.
An instance of the other side of the British commander's character cameto Tom's attention not long afterwards, when he heard of the misfortuneof an old lady seventy years of age, in whose house General Clinton madehis headquarters. The British officer, noticing that his hostess hadcaused all of her better furniture and valuables to be removed, informedher that she need have had no fears for the safety of her possessions,for he himself would protect her and them, and urged her to have thembrought back again. As the old lady expressed her fears and objected, herepeated his assurances so strongly that she yielded and sent a man witha wagon to the place in which they had been concealed.
When the wagon-load arrived in front of her door, she in person appliedto the British commander for a guard; but the permission was refusedand, not even giving her a change of dress for herself or her agedhusband, the goods were at once confiscated, and the old lady wascompelled to give up her bedroom and sleep with the negro women upon thefloor of the kitchen.
Among the congregation which had assembled at the "new church" to watchthe battle was one man who, instead of joining his friends upon the roofor steeple, took his seat upon one of the gravestones. Not longafterwards, a cannon-ball came speeding in that direction, and struckthe unfortunate man.
The congregation upon the roof did not wait for the customarybenediction to be pronounced, we may be sure, and while the most of themhastily dispersed, a few remained to carry the wounded man into the"meeting-house," where he died within a few minutes, and the stains ofhis blood remained for many years upon the floor. It was within six feetof the west end of this same "new church" that the body of theunfortunate British Colonel Monckton, over which the contending forceshad such a desperate struggle, was buried.
Within the vicinity of Monmouth Court House many houses and farmbuildings were set on fire and burned by the redcoats, some of whomopenly declared that there was no hope of conquering the rebels until"they had burned every house and killed every man, woman, and child."Just how they expected to conquer _after_ they had burned the buildingsand slain the people is not clear to us to-day; but doubtless theexpression and the purpose alike were born of the fury of the battle,and was only one among many of the results of war, which even in itsmildest forms appeals to all that is bad in men. And as the campaign inOld Monmouth presented none of the milder forms of war, such deeds,terrible as they were, were not unnatural.
Nor were they all confined to one side, for the men in buff and bluewere as much aroused as the men in scarlet, and, while naturally theanecdotes and incidents of the battle are largely those of the crueldeeds of the redcoats, doubtless if all things had been recorded, weshould have found that many of those brave ancestors of ours were notentirely guiltless of similar deeds.
An unusual story was that of Captain Cook of the Virginia Corps, who wasshot through the lungs. He was carried into a room in a near-by houseand ordered by the surgeon not to speak. A brother officer came into theroom and tenderly asked of the wounded man whether anything could bedone for him. Captain Cook, in spite of his sufferings, was mindful ofthe surgeon's words and made no reply. Mistaking the cause of thesilence, his friend departed from the house and reported to Washingtonthat Captain Cook was dead, and then the commander ordered a coffin tobe placed under the window of the room in which the brave captain wassupposed to be lying dead. But Captain Cook was not dead, nor did hedie until many years afterwards, and lived to visit several times thegood people in Old Monmouth, who had tenderly ministered to his wantsuntil he was able to rejoin the army.
After the battle, many of the dead were found beneath the shade oftrees, or beside the little streams to which they had crawled forshelter or for water; and many of these had perished, not from wounds,but from their labors in the intense heat of the day. Several houses atMonmouth Court House were filled with the wounded after the battle, andevery room in the Court House itself was likewise filled. The sufferingsoldiers lay upon the straw which had been scattered over the floors,and the groans and cries of the wounded and the moanings of the dyingresounded together. The faces of many were so blackened that theirdearest friends did not recognize them, and as fast as they died theirbodies were taken and buried in pits, which were onl
y slightly coveredby the sand.
A similar service was rendered for the enemy's dead, and among them wasfound a sergeant of dragoons whose immense body had been a familiarsight to both armies, for the man was said to have been the tallestsoldier ever seen in all the struggle of the Revolution, and to havemeasured seven feet and four inches in height.
So, side by side, or in neighboring graves, the nameless bodies offriends and foes were left for their last long sleep. The roar of thecannon, the shouts of the men, the calls of the officers, the bitterfeelings of the awful war were never to disturb or arouse them again.They had done their part, and done it well; but the land for which theystruggled could never mark their resting-places, nor perhaps recall thenames of all. But the heroes whose names we praise would never have beenhonored except for the part the faithful and brave, but nameless andforgotten, heroes took. In honoring the one class, let us never forgetto pay a tribute of honor and of praise to the unknown and forgottenheroes of Old Monmouth.
The loss of the Americans in the battle had been three hundred andsixty-two. That of the British, while it was reported to have been fourhundred and sixteen, was doubtless much greater, for the Americansburied no less than two hundred and forty-five of the redcoats, and hadno means of knowing how many had been carried away. Washington himselfbelieved the loss to have been as great as twelve hundred.
Who were the victors on the plains of Old Monmouth? What were theeffects of the campaign upon the fortunes of the struggling States? MostAmerican writers have claimed that the victory belonged to theContinentals because they had driven the British from the field, whilemany British writers have claimed that it was a drawn battle.
Certainly, Washington must have felt bitterly disappointed, for he hadhoped to defeat the enemy and capture their baggage and stores. Hisfailure to do so was not due to the British, but to the treachery ofCharles Lee. Had Lee carried out the orders given him, there can belittle doubt to-day that the battle of Monmouth would have aided inputting an end to the war long before peace came.
We are not concerned by what might have been the result, however, but bywhat was the result. Clinton succeeded in withdrawing his troops andsaving his baggage train, and with both soon after embarked (June 30)upon the ships which Lord Howe had been keeping in waiting off SandyHook, and thereby gained the safety of New York. But his men weregreatly disheartened, and came to regard the despised "rebels" in anentirely new light. Indeed, within a week more than two thousanddeserted, the most of whom were Hessians, and the confidence of thosewho remained was sadly broken. While it is a current saying that"nothing succeeds like success," it is also evident that nothing failslike failure, and this was as true in those trying days of theRevolution as it is to-day, and General Clinton soon found it to be so.
Upon the Americans, the moral effect of the campaign and battle was moreneeded than the material effect. Valley Forge was passed now,Philadelphia had been abandoned by the British, and the Americans hadfound upon the plains of Old Monmouth, as they had at Trenton andPrinceton, that their men were not inferior to their enemies, whiletheir officers were among the best the world had known. The opponentsand enemies of Washington, and they were many at the time both withinand without Congress, were compelled to be silent, and the greatcommander was free to face his difficulties and dangers, which were notended after the battle of Monmouth. That campaign had served chiefly toplace behind him one more of his problems, but, as we shall see, manyyet remained to try the soul of the noblest American of them all.
Meanwhile, what had become of the lad Tom Coward? Alarmed by the battle,not daring to fight and yet not knowing where to withdraw, although hisfear had not been strong enough to lead to such a result, he was drivenabout by the movements of the men, and in one of the lulls which came inthe conflict, he found himself almost alone. He was near a barn whichstood beyond the borders of the battlefield, and was just about to turnthe corner when he stumbled over the body of a fallen man.
As he glanced down, he was almost overcome when he discovered that thesoldier was his friend, the young lieutenant. A hurried examinationrevealed that he was still living, though he was badly wounded in thethroat. The lad lifted the head of the suffering man, but a groan causedhim to desist. Almost overcome by grief and fear, he turned to seek foraid.
HE DISCOVERED THAT THE SOLDIER WAS HIS FRIEND]
As he looked quickly about him, he perceived a man in the distance onthe border of the woods away from the battle-ground. Instantly heturned and ran toward him, and to his surprise discovered that the manwas none other than Friend Nathan Brown.
"Come, Nathan! come! Be quick! Lieutenant Gordon's over here by thebarn. He's terribly wounded and may die any moment. Come and help mewith him!"
The Quaker instantly responded, and without explaining how it hadhappened that he should be discovered so near a scene to which in spiritas well as in practice he was strongly opposed, ran by the side of theeager lad to the place where the wounded man had fallen.
Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778 Page 29
