CHAPTER VIII
There was little time for moping after we got back to headquarters, foron the very next day, Colonel Morgan issued orders to his captains toget their companies in marching order, and a few days later we filed outof camp in double column, bands playing, colors flying, and our facesnorthward. The men cheered us as we passed, for Morgan's rifle rangerswere famous by this time, and were always greeted vociferously.
General Gates gave us an enthusiastic welcome when we came up with him,lying intrenched along the Hudson River from Stillwater to Halfmoon; andfrom the first he paid us the compliment of giving us the positions ofgreatest danger and responsibility, issuing a command that we were toreceive orders from himself alone. It was ours to do most of the scoutand picket duty during the three weeks that the British army waited onthe opposite bank of the river about thirty miles above us, their rearprotected by Fort Edward.
Burgoyne wearied presently of inaction, and determined to wait no longerfor Lord Howe's continually delayed reinforcements. He began, too, tosuspect that his position was fast becoming a critical one, for news nowreached him that the forces of Baum and St. Leger had been destroyed atthe battle of Oriskany, and that the attack upon Fort Stanwix hadfailed, so that the blow from the west could no longer be counted on;the New England militiamen were gathering in force in his rear, and hisIndian and Canadian allies--frightened it was said by the report thatMorgan's rifle rangers had joined Gates--daily deserted him. There wasno alternative left to General Burgoyne but to cross the river andattack Gates, ere this time well fortified, by the skill of Kosciusko,on Bemis Heights.
For six days longer, Burgoyne hesitated, or awaited reenforcements. Onthe morning of September the nineteenth, one of the outlook, stationedin a tree top, reported a movement of Burgoyne's army which indicated aconcerted rear and front attack upon our position. General Gates decidedto await the attack behind our fortifications; but Arnold, who commandedour left wing, argued vehemently in favor of a charge upon Burgoyne'sadvance column, and at last won Gates' consent that he should leadMorgan's riflemen, and Dearborn's infantry against the approachingenemy. The riflemen were given the lead, and we fell upon Burgoyne withtelling energy, Morgan all the time exposing himself recklessly, andshouting encouragement to his men above the incessant crack of theirrifles, and the responsive roar of the enemy's guns.
It was a picture worth seeing--our regiment in action, their tallcommanding figures in their huntsmen's garb scattering or forming as theground suggested, and each man firing as coolly as if he had nothingmore than a brace of partridges in range.
We had been but a short while in action, when General Frazier turnedeastward to help General Burgoyne; and Riedesel, seeing Burgoyne washard pressed, hurried up to his assistance from the river road, alongwhich he was marching to attack Gates' position, in front, while, asthey had planned, Generals Burgoyne and Frazier should simultaneouslyattack our position in rear. We had, therefore, successively divertedthe entire force, marching to charge Bemis Heights, and fought, with ourthree thousand backwoods riflemen and raw infantry, four thousand of thebest troops in the British army, led by their bravest and most skilledofficers.
The fight was waged with desperate determination on both sides for twohours, while Arnold and Morgan galloped hither and thither, animatingthe men by their voice, presence, and example. Again and again Arnoldsent couriers to Gates begging for re-enforcements, and assuring himthat with two thousand more men he could crush the army of Burgoyne. Butthe self opinionated Gates, who preferred to lose by his own judgment,rather than win by any other man's, sat calmly in his tent, watching thefight below, and steadily refused us assistance. In defiance of hisnarrow stupidity Arnold fought on till dark, and though Burgoyne wasleft in possession of the battle field, he had lost heavily, and hisattack upon our position had been foiled. We, also, had lost heavily,and of our brave riflemen far more than we could by any means afford tospare.
General Burgoyne did not venture another attempt for nearly three weeks.Meanwhile we did not lack excitement in camp, for the long brewingdifficulties between Gates and Arnold came rapidly to a head,culminating in a rash speech of Gates that "as soon as General Lincolnshould arrive he would have no further use for General Arnold," and thewithdrawal from Arnold's command of Morgan's and Dearborn's regiments,the two he counted most upon. Arnold was furious and all the officersunder Gates, except two or three, were indignant. We had as muchconfidence in Arnold's courage and military skill, then, as we had doubtof Gates possessing either of these qualities. General Arnold sent inhis resignation, which General Gates accepted; but after all the otherofficers had met and signed a petition entreating Arnold to remain, hewas induced to withdraw his resignation, and Gates submitted sullenly.
It fell also to the lot of Morgan and Arnold to check the secondconcerted movement of the British, and upon almost the same ground asbefore. But the second battle of Freeman's Farm was a far more decisivevictory for us. Again Morgan's men led the attack, were the first men onthe field, and the last to withdraw. This might well be called thebattle of the Colonels, for until General Arnold led the famous chargeupon Frazier's wavering line late in the afternoon, which completed therout of the British, no officer higher in command than a colonel wasengaged in the fight on our side.
General Burgoyne now found himself surrounded by the American army, andnext discovered that every ford along the river for miles was stronglyguarded--Gates was a better general at reaping the fruits of others'victories, than at winning them for himself. A few days later Burgoyneasked for terms of surrender, and on the seventeenth of October--sevenwas our lucky number during this campaign--the "Convention of Saratoga"was carried into effect by the British army marching into a meadow, andlaying down their arms, while General Burgoyne handed his sword toGeneral Gates. Our men stayed within their entrenchments, not caring tolook upon the humiliation of a brave enemy, and not a single cheer washeard as the disarmed and dejected British repassed our lines; werealized then, as more than once afterwards, that Americans andBritishers could never really be enemies and that the aims and destiniesof Anglo-Saxon peoples were and always would be much the same.
In General Gates' report of the surrender he failed to mention ColonelMorgan's name, or to give any credit to the riflemen for the importantservice they had rendered. A few days after the capitulation, GeneralGates gave a dinner to a large number of British and American officers,but he did not include Colonel Morgan. During the progress of the dinnerColonel Morgan was compelled to make some important report to thegeneral in chief, and was ushered into the banqueting room. He salutedformally, made his report, and withdrew.
"And who, General Gates, may be that soldierly and magnificent lookingcolonel?" enquired a British officer.
"It is Colonel Morgan of the Virginia Riflemen," answered Gates, with asgracious an air as he could command.
"What, is that the famous Colonel Morgan! Pardon me, but I must shakehands with him," and he rose from the table, and followed Morgan,several of the other British officers doing likewise, thus compellingGeneral Gates to recall and introduce him.
"Sir," said General Burgoyne, "you command the finest regiment in theworld."
Colonel Morgan proudly repeated this to his men, and each man of theregiment treasured it in his memory to the end of his life, as being thehighest compliment troops could receive, for it came, unsolicited, froma gallant enemy.
A few days afterward we rejoined the main army at Whitemarsh, Morgan'scommand taking part in the battle of Chestnut Hill. It was there I gotmy first and only wound during the Revolution, and was for a second timetaken prisoner. I was leading my men in a headlong charge upon theenemy's works, when a small body of British cavalry dashed suddenly uponus from an unexpected direction, and threatened to cut us off from themain body of our troops; I gave the order to retreat at double quick,and remembered no more, till I found myself a prisoner with a bullet inmy left thigh.
The next day I was taken to a prison hospital in Philadelphi
a, and laidon a straw pallet in a row of other groaning, tossing, half deliriousunfortunates. For some days--I lost count of time--I lived in a troubleddream, with but one definite need, one clearly defined longing, and thatfor water. Oh, for a fountain of cool sweet water, that I might drinkand drink, then rest and drink again! That which some one brought mefrom time to time was muddy and flat, but I drank it as if it had beenthe ambrosial cup of Jove, and in the confused visions which floated inand out of my mind, there was always a sparkling spring gushing out of agreen hillside, and falling with a splashing sound into a pebble pavedbasin. Sometimes I seemed to lie flat upon my chest in the cool grass,and to plunge my head into the cool water. Again I saw the spring, as onthat last night at home, silvered by the moon's rays, and Ellen standingon the rock above, wrapped in her white robe, her face mystical withstrange thoughts. She smiled at me, and gave me to drink from a goldencup the sweetest water I had ever quaffed.
One of the first things to arouse me from my semi-stupor was thebeseeching cry of a poor lad, who lay on the pallet next mine, for"water, water,"--over and over again, in tones first petulant andinsistent, then entreating and pitiful, then weary and despairing. Thenext time the bucket and dipper came around, I begged the man whodistributed our dole to give my share to the lad, though my throat waslike cast iron within, and my heavy tongue as slick as if coated withvarnish. The boy fell asleep afterwards, and the brief quiet of histossing limbs with the smile his dreams brought to his pale lips sorested my nerves, as to enable me to endure the hours which ensuedbefore the next bucketful was distributed.
"This is Captain McElroy, I believe, sir," I heard a prison official sayone day, standing over my pallet--I do not know whether it was morningor afternoon, or how many days after I had been brought to the hospital.
"Do we not provide better accommodations than this for woundedofficers?" said another in lowered voice.
"We cannot make our own wounded comfortable, Captain," answered thefirst; "we must do as we can in this half savage country."
I opened my eyes now, and met those of a slim young man in Britishuniform,--"Can you tell me, sir," he asked, "where I may find CaptainDonald McElroy, of Morgan's rifle company?"
"I'm Captain McElroy of the Virginia Riflemen, sir," and I sat up with amighty effort, and managed to salute him with a trembling hand.
"You have not lost your pluck with your strength, I see, CaptainMcElroy," returning my salute; "I'm Captain Buford, a brother of theyoung woman you met at the home of Colonel Morgan, last April. Nelly sawyour name in the list of wounded prisoners, several days ago, and haswaited impatiently for my return to the city, that she might set me tosearching for you. She tells me that you two entered into a friendlycompact, pledging each other help and protection while the war lasts,whenever one is needed, and the other possible. It was your pleasureonce, she bade me say, to extend courtesy to a Tory, it is hers now toshow her appreciation of that courtesy, and also of the valor of a braveopponent,--the word enemy she charged me _not_ to use."
The little blood left in my body all mounted to my face, and I knew notif it were weakness, or pleasure that made my brain reel so. "Will youconvey to your sister my most grateful thanks, Captain Buford, and sayto her for me that any obligation she may feel to my friends--for shecan owe none to me, since she but honored me with her society--is doublydischarged by her gracious interest in my fate. If it is in my power todo so, I shall call to express my gratitude in person, as soon as I amstrong enough. Will you be so good as to leave your address with me?"But I had used up all my will power, in this long speech, which had comefaltering from my dry throat, and now I fell back on my pallet almost ina swoon of weakness.
"You need more practical assistance, if I mistake not, Captain McElroy,than a mere expression of interest. And our Cousin Abigail will neverforgive us the neglect of a friend of her husband. If it is possible toget permission, and I think there will be no difficulty, we wish to takeyou to our house as a paroled prisoner. With a comfortable bed, andnourishing diet we shall have you well in no time."
"I am too unsightly an object to risk being seen by your mother andsister, Captain Buford--would it not be well to wait until I am strongenough to be shaven and dressed," I protested, weakly.
"You need only fresh garments, and a comb to be entirely presentable."
"Then I am in your hands."
When Captain Buford returned, he was accompanied by a physician and hisown body servant, and had my parole in his hand. The last he showed me,while the physician administered a cordial hardly more stimulating,after which the negro valet made me as decent in appearance as my statepermitted. Before they carried me to the ambulance in waiting, I stoppeda moment, beside the lad's pallet to say good-by, and speak a cheeringword to him. His fever had abated, now, but I feared he would die ofexhaustion, aided by extreme dejection.
"Cheer up, comrade," I said; "my friends here have promised me they willhave you paroled or exchanged, if you'll only set your mind to it, andget well."
"I'm glad for your good luck," he answered wearily, "but I don't expectto hear another friendly voice this side of Heaven."
"That is not soldier-like talk, lad--a patriot must learn to defysuffering, and mischance."
"Yes, I know, and I'm trying to learn to endure as a soldier should,"but he shut his eyes, and the weak grasp of his fingers on mine relaxed.
"That's right, lad, keep up a brave heart; my friends will not forgetyou."
I could trust myself to say no more, and as I took a last look at thesmooth, girlish face of the lad, I thought with a fresh heart pang, "Howmuch do the horrors of war outweigh its glories!"
Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman Page 8
