When he awoke, he was lying in a soft bed in a darkened room. She was asleep in a rocking chair in the corner. He stared at her a long time, remembering when he had first seen her in Morristown, administering to the wounded and then their long talks in her father’s house. And now, it was he who was in her tender care, recovering from his own wounds. He remembered his surprise at being hit by a musket ball, the impact blowing him backwards and then, little else. As he rested in the quiet, his memory returned in fragmented images: the bright lanterns in the operating room of the field hospital, Will hovering nearby, the surgeon raising the bone saw, Will standing by Hadley’s side as he lay on the table, shouts of anger, the intense pain of the metal probe searching for lead and bone in his arm, biting down on a linen cloth as the searing pain of a forceps removed the fragments of the British ball, and then simply darkness. Followed by the incessant pain, fever, chills and hunger, lying in his own filth. He realized the smell of his own excrement was gone. He lay on clean cloth sheets, clad in a nightshirt open at the collar to his chest, his right arm still bandaged and throbbing. Mercy must have cleaned him, he thought gratefully.
When she awoke and they could talk, he would tell her he had nothing to hide from her now. He grinned and drifted off to sleep, warm under the quilt for the first time since he had been wounded. 6
Elisabeth was awakened by a pounding on the door, followed by the familiar deep booming voice of General Knox. She thought she heard the tall clock in the entryway strike the quarter hour before three in the morning. As servants rushed to let him in, Elisabeth heard the baby crying. She went to Mrs. Knox’s room and picked up baby Lucy just as the General came up the stairs. Elisabeth drew her shawl around her nightgown, more for modesty than warmth.
“The British are less than twenty-two miles away and could be here in three to four hours,” he said, embracing his wife. “General Washington has alerted Mr. Hancock and recommended that Congress immediately leave the city.”7 He caught his breath from the exertion of running up the stairs. He held out his arms and Elisabeth handed him his daughter who was no longer crying but looked dazed and sleepy. “Lucy. You and the household must pack your essentials in haste and be prepared to leave.”
“And by when shall we need to be ready?” Mrs. Knox asked, thinking practically.
“By no later than one hour before dawn. I must assess what may be salvaged from the munitions works and casting factories along the river and that which must be destroyed. I will return to you as soon as possible.” He kissed Lucy, hugged the baby and stomped down the stairs.
Mrs. Knox was now all efficiency. She ordered the men servants first to light all the lanterns in the house, make sure there were extra candles, bring up the trunks from the cellar and position a wagon on the street. She directed the maids to begin packing, bustling from room to room, supervising their activities, and for the cook and her assistant to bake bread and prepare a cold breakfast for the General when he returned. Upstairs in the Knox’s bedroom, Elisabeth removed bedding and quilts from the long, low drawers of the mahogany and satinwood high boy and laid them in the open rough pine wood chest on the floor. She kept one eye on baby Lucy who was wandering around the bedroom pointing at everything with her chubby little finger and asking her to identify what each item was.
Hearing noise outside, Baby Lucy took Elisabeth’s hand and toddled toward the open window. “Watch,” she said. “Lucy watch.” Elisabeth lifted her up in her arms and pulled back the curtains.
The scene outside was pandemonium. A steady stream of horse drawn traffic rushed by, with the occasional balky cow tied to the back of a wagon piled high with cooking pots next to crates of squawking chickens, the birds oblivious to the irony they were traveling beside their ultimate destination. Large onion shaped cloth bundles stuffed with whatever their owners thought essential sat precariously on top of tables and chairs.
People rushed about, loading carts, wagons, drays and all manner of other wheeled conveyances. In the moonlight the city seemed as busy as if it were already day. There was the constant clatter of iron wheels and horses hooves on the smooth cobblestones accompanied by the sounds of children crying, parents shouting, women screaming. 8
She jiggled Baby Lucy in her arms to keep her interested. While abandoning Philadelphia was distressing, Elisabeth knew she would manage the trip to Lancaster or York or wherever in Pennsylvania they were going. Now that she knew Will was alive and unharmed. The day after they returned from Darby, Captain Hadley still feverish and but now lucid told her it was Will who had brought him to the field hospital. Upon hearing these words, if she had sprouted wings she would have soared into the September skies. Her euphoria continued to the present, but she vowed the next time she wrote or saw Will she would tell him of her love. She was now sure of it and could not bear the agonizing thought of him going into another battle without knowing this.
Staring out of the window, Elisabeth recognized the figure of Mercy Ford going against the flow of the fleeing citizens. She dashed across the street in front of a pair of oxen slowly pulling an overloaded farm wagon and ran up the steps to the Knox home.
“I have come to bid you farewell,” Mercy said standing on the landing before the bedroom, her cloak still bearing the dirt from the night in Darby. “The wounded are being evacuated and I am taking Samuel to Morristown.”
“And how is Captain Hadley faring?” Lucy Knox asked holding up her hand to shush a servant in the middle of her report on the packing of some household items.
“Well enough but still very weak. The blow when he fell is distuurbing his vision and gives him unbearable headaches. I am optimistic that continued application of whiskey to his open wound and clean dressings every day will ward off infection.” 9
“And his arm?” Elisabeth asked, remembering seeing the torn flesh with the large exit wound at the back. “Will he be able to use it?”
“He can already move his fingers. With proper nourishment, he will regain his strength,” she said embracing Elisabeth affectionately. “Please convey to Will how grateful Samuel is for preventing the surgeon from amputating his arm.”
“I plan to write Will once we arrive wherever we are to stay,” she said, having already begun composing the letter in her mind.” She watched from the doorway as the driver helped Mercy into the carriage and then waved for no reason as it disappeared down the street, with several large trunks strapped to the back. She imagined Captain Hadley inside, leaning against Mercy, grateful to be in her presence on the long jolting journey.
General Knox returned a little before dawn. He took a few moments to play with his daughter, making faces and singing a few verses in his deep voice. She held his large tri-corn in both of her tiny hands and giggled at the funny rhymes. Knox undid the top two buttons of his dark blue jacket, as well as several on his buff colored waistcoat and sat down at the dining room table with the toddler on his lap. Lucy took a chair beside him and brushed some dirt from his sleeve as cold ham, freshly baked bread, cheese butter and jam, were carried into the room along with a pitcher of hard cider.
“Make sure my men are adequately fed and given drink,” he said to the serving girl.
“I will see to it, myself,” Lucy said and followed the girl into the kitchen.
“Your men were speaking of this most recent battle as if it were a victory,” Mrs. Knox said when she returned.
“Lucy my dear. We acquitted ourselves well at Brandywine. Our lads stood up to the most fearsome of soldiers, reputed to be the best in the British army, and we held our own. That is to our credit.” He took a long swallow from his tankard.
“It was those who seek to profit from this war for our own independence who snatched our victory from us three days later at White Horse Tavern. The very heavens opened up while the battle was still in progress.” He paused to put another forkful of ham in his mouth. “True the rains were torrential but our cartridge boxes were defective and we lost upwards of 400,000 rounds. The mud was so thick the
British could not take advantage of our lack of ammunition. I’d hang the scoundrels who sold the Army these shoddy supplies.” 10
“For me, my dearest Harry the most important victory is you emerged unscathed, although you look worn and tired from this constant fighting.” She patted his hand affectionately and raised it to her cheek.
“Your safety and happiness and that of our babe is the sole object of my heart,” he replied. “I am only able to perform my duties in the field knowing that you are well behind our lines, ensconced in comfort and secure from any danger.”
Lucy withdrew her hand and snapped her fingers. “I would relinquish the luxuries of life as quickly as that and be willing to taste nothing but bread and water if I could only be with you. When the Army goes to winter quarters I shall share whatever hardships you will endure. I am nothing without my dear Harry.”
“My dear. I know not where or when we will go to quarters but if it is safe from attack, then you will be my constant companion.”
Knox pushed back his chair from the table, held little Lucy in one meaty hand over his head and shook her gently so that her brown curls swirled around her face. He handed his little daughter to his wife.
“Lucy. Permit me to have a word alone with Elisabeth.” Mrs. Knox clutched little Lucy to her bosom and reached up to kiss the General. “Promise me you will ride with us for as long as you are able before departing to rejoin the army.”
“I give you my word I will not put spurs to my horse one moment sooner to depart from your company and that of our darling daughter.”
Elisabeth remained where she had been sitting at the far end of the dining room table, having thought it more discreet to leave the General and his little family with as much a sense of privacy as possible.
“Come sit closer,” Knox beckoned. When she was sitting next to him, he said, “I am known to have a loud voice and it would be better if others were unable to hear what I am about to say.”
Elisabeth shifted slightly and waited, unsure what was about to transpire. She feared it was about Will. Maybe he had been wounded after Brandywine. Or worse, she thought. He is dead. She sat rigidly composed, prepared for the worst news possible.
“My dear. You know I am as fond of Will as if he were my own natural son. I would do nothing to jeopardize his happiness. And he appears to be happiest when he is with you.” He paused and Elisabeth thought for once the General was at a loss for the appropriate words.
“Will has spoken often of all you have done for him, and thus for me,” Elisabeth said struggling to control her apprehensiveness. “Do not have a concern that I will take ill of anything you may say.”
“We all risk something in fighting for our noble cause. Will and I on the battlefield. Some may do more behind the lines and take perhaps even greater risks. We know the British will occupy Philadelphia. We cannot prevent it by force of arms.” He sighed deeply and unbuttoned his waistcoat further.
“It would be useful, nay vital to our cause to have information about General Howe’s intentions, his troop dispositions, the number of sick and able bodied men, the size and direction of his foraging parties, the morale of his troops, whether there are shortages of ammunition and supplies - anything of major importance or seemingly of no matter whatsoever.”
He leaned forward, his blue grey eyes fixing on her. “I am asking you to remain behind in Philadelphia and provide us with such crucial information as you may obtain.” 11
“You are asking me to become a spy,” Elisabeth whispered incredulously, taken aback by the request. General Knox nodded. “But I am not skilled at secretive activities and know nothing to convey….”
General Knox waved his hand to interrupt her. “My dear. The British Officers enjoy the company of pretty young women, at balls and dances, performances and the like. Your friendship with the daughters of Judge Shippen, who has known Loyalist predilections, will be certain to involve you in their vibrant social life. By virtue of that association you may be especially well positioned to learn of information others may not be able to obtain.”
She thought of one of the many Shippen’s soirees, she had attended. Now, in her mind, all the young men wore Redcoats and not Continental blue. “If I am to consort with the enemy, it will be difficult for me to play the part of enjoying it, knowing Will is facing their bullets and bayonets.”
“You will have to exercise caution and be discreet in your behavior. I must in honesty represent that my request places you in extreme danger if you are discovered. However, if you accept, I will provide you with the safest means for communication.”
“I will do it,” she said. “If one scrap of information I provide saves a soldier’s life, it will be worth it. How do you propose I divulge what I learn and to whom?”
“Why my dear. It is obvious,” Knox chortled, his eyes twinkling at the thought. “By your letters to Will. And we will communicate to you through his letters in reply. Only Will and my dear Lucy will know why you have remained in this city.”
There was a knock on the door and a trooper entered. “General. Sir. It is getting light. All is ready. Your wife’s luggage has been loaded and the carriage is outside.”
Knox sighed and stood up. He opened his arms and embraced Elisabeth, kissing her affectionately on the top of her head.
“A messenger from me will deliver more details within the week.”
“Is there some sign this messenger will give so I will know him,” she said feeling conspiratorial and foolish at the same time.
“I plan on sending Will,” the General said, smiling broadly.
Chapter 12 - Two Lives Entwined
Will thought their group was an odd mixture- eighty Light Horse Troopers and two dozen artillery men like him, drawn from Colonel Sargent’s Regiment, as drivers of the empty wagons taken from the Army’s encampment on the west bank of the Schuykill. After a hard days ride, they were camped around the Boatswain and Call Tavern, less than twelve miles from Philadelphia and south of Ardmore.
It was a balmy night for late September, too cold for gnats and mosquitos but still warm enough to be outside. Will sat on the edge of a cider press in the yard between the stable and the tavern and breathed in the fresh sweet smell of apple pulp. He preferred to avoid the noise and heat of the main room of the crowded tavern. He was not entirely alone. Troopers went back and forth to the stable, tending to their horses or on some other personal mission. In the moonlight, he could see the glimmer of the pickets’ fire down the road toward Philadelphia.
Soon he would be with Elisabeth. He was worried for her safety and wished it were possible they could leave the city together. General Knox had explained she had voluntarily agreed to remain behind and now it was Will’s task to teach and give her the tools to function as safely as possible. Any risk of her capture, no matter how small, was too much for him to bear. He would have to get used to this anxiety, a new feeling for him. After all, he reasoned, Mrs. Knox coped with it. He wondered if Elisabeth worried about his safety when the Army was in the field. She said she did, but was it the same as his gnawing worm of fear, imagining the worst happening to the one he loved.
Will mopped the last of the dregs of his dinner with the remaining piece of bread and licked his fingers. Their commander, Lt. Colonel Alexander Hamilton, an aide-de-camp to General Washington himself, had paid the tavern keeper in sterling for the meals provided to the men. Probably more to buy his silence and to compensate for restricting the keeper, his family and all who worked there from leaving until the following day, than for the quality of the food. It was a thin gruel, with a few pieces of gristly beef, not worthy of the name of stew.
The tavern door opened and Will recognized the Colonel and two other officers as they strolled around the yard. When they were closer, Will thought it appropriate to stand up. He adjusted the haversack across his shoulder. It had been with him ever since his meeting with General Knox. He intended it would never be away from his person.
“Sergeant Ston
er, is it?” the Colonel asked. “From General Knox’s Artillery Regiment?”
“Yes sir.” Will answered as the three men stopped in front of
him. Hamilton’s tri-corn was under his right arm, pressed against his
ribs. The Colonel gazed intently at Will as if trying to place him. Will
stared back at Hamilton’s determined, almost commanding face with
its firm chin, eyes set deeply above a long nose with a slight bent near
the bridge and his reddish brown curly hair swept back away from his
forehead.
“I was with your artillery at the Raritan above Brunswick,” Will
said, responding to the unasked question.
“Ah, yes,” Hamilton paused, as if recalling the scene. “Quite the
hot action was it not?” he said in his clipped, quick accent. “Gentlemen,
excuse us for a moment. I desire a word with our young Sergeant.” Hamilton placed an arm around Will’s shoulder and ushered
Blood Upon The Snow Page 23
