“Long war without and frequent broil withinHad made a path for blood and giant sin,That waited but a signal to beginNew havoc, such as civil discord blends,Which knows no neuter, owns but foes or friends.”—“Count Lara,” Byron.
“Long war without and frequent broil withinHad made a path for blood and giant sin,That waited but a signal to beginNew havoc, such as civil discord blends,Which knows no neuter, owns but foes or friends.”
—“Count Lara,” Byron.
The two mothers were at the door to greet them as David Owen brought the girls back. Both girls were much excited, half laughing, half crying, over the turn events had taken.
“’Tis good news, I can see,” said Mrs. Owen leading them into the sitting-room. “As to how it came about I can gather nothing clearly.”
“Oh, ’twas Sally, Sally,” cried Peggy. “’Tis said that Mr. Henry of Virginia is eloquent, but ye should have heard Sally. He could not excel her.”
“’Twas a complete rout,” declared Mr. Owen, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. “Here I was down-stairs beset with anxiety lest untowardsentences be passed upon the girls when down from the Council chamber they came, escorted by Mr. Jacob Deering and President Moore himself. Sally addressed the honorable body with so much unction, I hear, that thy uncle, Robert, at once declared for them. In fact, his championship took the form of a direct challenge, which caused so much merriment that the Council was unable to proceed with the business before it, and an adjournment was taken until this afternoon.”
“But what happened? What did you say? Do tell us, Sally,” urged Robert Dale. “I acknowledge that I am consumed with curiosity. I am sure the others are affected in like manner. We were just sitting here while you were gone trying to cheer each other by hoping that the sentence would be fines rather than imprisonment. And here you come back with neither, it seems, and colors flying. Do tell us what happened.”
“Well,” laughed Sally, who was plainly elated over the matter, “I was greatly frightened until we entered the Council chamber; but do ye know,” she broke off excitedly, “just as soon as I saw those men I knew thatthere was not one of them who would have refused Clifford shelter that stormy day? So I told them so. That’s all.”
A shout of laughter greeted this explanation. When it subsided Peggy spoke.
“Thee didn’t tell them about Brutus, Sally,” she chided. “’Twas that that first excited thy ire.” With that she related in detail all that had taken place.
“Hurrah for Sally! And hurrah for Uncle Jacob too,” cried Robert. “’Twas wonderful, as Peggy says. How did you happen to think of it, Sally?”
“’Twas high time that I did something to redeem myself,” answered Sally. “After all,” she continued a trifle wearily, for in spite of the petting and being made much of even her buoyant nature was beginning to feel the strain of events, “after all, I should not have been obliged to do it. Peggy and I are in our own city. It hath been a long war, and from the first we have shown our patriotism by doing what we could. Whenever anything of this sort occurs it should not be necessary to do aught but explain how the matter came about without fear of punishment.”
“War breeds suspicion, my child,” explained Mr. Owen gravely. “The purest patriots are open to it; for sometimes treason lurks where ’tis least suspected. Were it not that a close watch is kept we should have been betrayed to our undoing long since by traitors and spies. For greater security, therefore, Whigs submit to an espionage that at times is most irksome and unpleasant.”
“I see,” said Sally. “I see. I—— Oh, I’m so tired!”
And with that—here was Sally on the floor in a dead faint. With an exclamation of alarm Peggy bent over her.
“All this hath been too much for her,” she cried. “And ’tis my fault. Oh! I should not have let her help with Clifford.”
“Nay, Peggy; she hath not been strong for some time,” returned Mrs. Evans, as Mrs. Owen and Nurse Johnson brought burnt feathers and vinegar. “She overtaxed her strength at the hospital which is the reason that she hath remained at home this spring. She must have a change when a little stronger.”
So, on her return to consciousness, Sallyfound herself put to bed and declared an invalid. Peggy insisted on being installed as chief nurse.
“But I shall go down-stairs to-day, Peggy,” spoke Sally on the morning of Wednesday. “I heard Nurse Johnson say last night that thy father was to start for Lancaster this afternoon.”
“He is, Sally. And what does thee think? Robert is to go with him.”
“Robert?” exclaimed Sally amazed. “Why, Peggy, his furlough hath but just begun.”
“I know. Father reminded him of it, but he thought the prospect alluring, because father spoke of the danger of robbers. It seems that the woods of the great road to Lancaster is infested with them, and that government stores are their especial prey. The journey will be fraught with no little peril.”
“How quickly he tired of us,” mused Sally. “Here ’twas only Fifth-day of last week that he came, and now he is to take to the field again. Fie, fie! Is that the gallantry of the military?”
“Perchance,” answered Peggy laughing at her friend, “perchance, Sally, he hath beenwithout leave for so long that he doth not know what to do with himself when off duty.”
“I dare say, Peggy. Oh, dear! would I were going somewhere. I would not care how much danger there was if I could get away for a time.” Sally sighed deeply. “I have been here all my life, Peggy, save for the summers we’ve spent at the farm. I wish I could have a change.”
Nurse Johnson entered the room as the girl concluded her remarks.
“It is anent that very thing that I have come to speak to you both,” she said seating herself on the side of the bed. “Why could not you and Peggy go to Jersey with me for a while? You need a change, Miss Sally, and my sister is near enough to the coast for you to have the benefit of the sea air. She hath a large house, and likes young company. We will give you a fine time, and ’twould do you no end of good. Will ye go?”
“Oh, I should like it,” cried Sally eagerly. “If Peggy will go I am sure that mother would be pleased to have me accept, Friend Nurse. Will thee, Peggy?”
“I’ll have to see mother about it, Sally,”answered Peggy slowly. She did not like the thought of leaving home again even for a few days, but Sally did need a change. She had extricated her from a grave difficulty, and so, stifling a sigh, she added: “I will go if mother will consent to it.”
“I’m going to get up,” spoke Sally decidedly. “When did thee wish to start, Friend Nurse?”
“I should like to go to-morrow,” answered Nurse Johnson. “Fairfax hath made arrangements for a large sled to use in place of the double wagon in which we came. That will make traveling easy, and we should start while the snow is on the ground. Should there come a warm spell the roads would be terrible.”
“Let’s go right down-stairs to see about it,” cried Sally. “If we go to-morrow there will be need for haste. See, Friend Nurse, the mere thought of going with thee hath given me strength. How much better I do feel already.”
“I’ll see that you have some color in these pale cheeks before I’m through with you,” declared Nurse Johnson pinching themlightly. “With Peggy and me to look after you a few days will make a great difference in you. Yes; let’s see about it right away.”
After all the matter was not mentioned immediately. David Owen had received some further orders which hastened his departure, and in the confusion of preparation the subject was not broached. It was at the tea table that Nurse Johnson unfolded the plan.
“And the raids, Friend Johnson?” spoke Mistress Owen. “Doth thy sister live where she would be subjected to them?”
“When Brother Tom wrote he said that there had been no trouble since Yorktown,” answered Nurse Johnson. “Did I think for one moment that there was danger I should not wish to take them into it. But Freehold is some distance from the coast, though the sea breezes have an appreciable effect upon the climate, and ’twill be of benefit to both girls to get away for a little while. Miss Sally certainly needs the change. I would take good care of them.”
“I do not doubt it, friend,” answered Peggy’s mother. She saw that Sally was eager for the trip, and knew that the girl’smother would consent to it only on condition that Peggy would go also. Both Mrs. Owen and her daughter felt that it would be ungracious to refuse, and consent was given.
So it came about that the next morning, so well wrapped up that they declared themselves unable to breathe, Peggy and Sally were helped into the big double sleigh that Fairfax had secured, and the journey toward New Jersey was begun.
There is something exhilarating about the beginning of any journey. Add to it youth, brilliant sunshine, the keen air of a frosty morning, and the high spirits of the maidens will be understood. Sally was almost wild with delight.
“Oh, Friend Fairfax,” she cried leaning forward to speak to him as the party sped away, the snow creaking under the runners, “isn’t this just the nicest ride thee ever took? Isn’t thee having just the best time?”
“Yes,” answered the youth so briefly that her face clouded. Fairfax was once more enveloped in his garb of bashfulness, and attended strictly to the driving, letting the task of entertaining their guests fall upon his mother.
“I do believe that he is feeling bad because Betty hath not come,” pouted Sally in a mischievous aside. “Doesn’t thee, Peggy?”
To Peggy’s amusement the youth turned quickly:
“I am, Mistress Sally. I—I’d like all three here.”
And thus, with laughter and light conversation, the day passed. The beautiful country places which had bordered the road near Philadelphia gave way to pleasant villages, and these in turn were succeeded by thick woods whose pure clean beauty elicited exclamations of delight. In many places the road was unbroken, and the sleigh passed under white laden branches which drooped heavily, and which at the slightest jar would discharge their burden over the party in miniature snow-storms. They had made such a late start that it was decided to lie at Bristol for the night, and reached that place as the afternoon sun began to cast long chill shadows through the darkening woods and to shroud the way in fast deepening obscurity.
Across the Delaware the road took them through dense forests, and over trackless vacanciesof snow-clad spaces into which the highway disappeared. There were a few scattering villages, and near these they encountered travelers, but on the highroad they met no one. In spite of themselves this fact wore upon them. The cold was not severe, but there was a stillness that held a penetrating chillness of its own. The country was undulating, swelling into an elevation called the Atlantic Highlands near the coast, and into the range of mountains in the north known as the Kittatinny Hills. All were well covered with forests of pine.
By noon of the third day they emerged from the woods, and found a long stretch of white-clad country before them. A few farms could be seen in the far distance, but otherwise there was no sign of life on the wide expanse. It seemed to Peggy and Sally that the highway lay over vast snow fields, and the glare of the sunlight on the snow began to blur and blind them.
“I should welcome the sight of bird or beast,” observed Nurse Johnson. “The stillness hath been oppressive to-day. ’Tis the hard part of winter travel. In summer thereis always the hum of insect, or the song of bird to while away the monotony of a journey, but in the winter there is naught to break the quiet. ’Tis as though all Nature slept under the blanket of snow. Still, the riding hath not been hard. A sleigh is so much easier than a wagon. You girls are tired, though, I can see. What are you looking at, Sally?”
“There seems to be something moving over there,” answered Sally indicating some small elevations about three miles to the north of the road. “Thee will get thy wish, Friend Nurse, for something is surely moving about. We have seen naught for so long that any living thing is curious. What are those specks, Friend Fairfax? They are too large for ducks.”
The youth turned and gazed steadily at the sand-hills to which she pointed. They were covered with snow which made them appear like ice hummocks in the sunshine, and which rendered the small black objects moving among them very distinct.
“They look to me like men,” remarked Peggy who sat on the front seat beside Fairfax.
“They are men,” he responded. “Men and horses.”
“I wonder what they are doing there,” cried Sally.
The youth did not reply, and Peggy caught the look that passed between him and his mother. She bent toward him quickly.
“What is it?” she asked. “What does thee fear?”
“I fear they are desperadoes,” he replied. “I must make yon farmhouse.”
With an exclamation the girl turned to look again at the sand-hills. To her amazement the spots that had been so indeterminate a few moments since now had become a body of horsemen, which was moving rapidly toward them. Fairfax was pale. He leaned forward and spoke to the horses just as Sally cried:
“They see us, Fairfax. They are coming on the run.”
“Can you drive, Peggy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she told him breathlessly.
“Then take my place,” he said. “See the farmhouse to the right on that crossroad? We must make that, Peggy. I must get outthe guns. If they catch us there will be a fight.”
“I have the ammunition, son,” said Nurse Johnson. “Get over here, and let me do the loading.”
Peggy took the lines, and the youth stooped down and drew the muskets from under the front seat of the sleigh.
“Drive, Peggy,” he called excitedly as he rose with the weapons. “Drive as you never drove before. They are gaining on us.”
“What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,The feast of vultures, and the waste of life?* * * * *In either cause, one rage alone possess’dThe empire of the alternate victor’s breast;And they that smote for freedom or for sway,Deem’d few were slain while more remain to slay.”—Byron.
“What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,The feast of vultures, and the waste of life?
* * * * *
In either cause, one rage alone possess’dThe empire of the alternate victor’s breast;And they that smote for freedom or for sway,Deem’d few were slain while more remain to slay.”
—Byron.
Peggy cast a fleeting glance backward, and the rich bloom of her cheeks faded to paleness as she saw what amazing progress the horsemen had made. Their own horses had been on the road since early morning, and should the beasts of their pursuers be fresher she feared for the result. With this reflection she cast aside her scruples and, taking the whip out of its socket, let it fall in a stinging cut. The horses leaped under the lash, then steadied to a rapid trot. Far behind sounded a faint halloa, but she did not turn her head. The horses demanded all her attention. How faraway that farmhouse seemed! Could they reach it before these lawless wretches overtook them? They must. Again she let the lash fall, and the horses were off in a mad gallop.
In some manner Sally and Fairfax contrived to exchange places, and with stern set features the youth sat watching the rapid advance of the enemy, his musket ready for instant use. There were two guns. His mother held the other, and the ammunition lay on the seat between them. Not one of the little party voiced the thought that was in their minds, for each one realized the awful consequences that would follow capture by these desperadoes.
During the latter part of the Revolution there had sprung into existence a class of men which might be termed banditti. They were marauding bands which were restrained from robbery and outrage by no military authority. They infested the woods and preyed upon lone travelers, or small parties journeying upon the highways, and desolated solitary farmhouses at will. No outrage was too great for them to commit. Each state had its quota of theselawless wretches which superadded to the horrors of war.
The state of New Jersey was particularly beset, owing to its geographical situation between the two large cities of New York and Philadelphia. The pines of Monmouth County, in whose boundaries Peggy and her friends now were, afforded a safe hiding-place for numbers of such robbers. They had caves burrowed in the sand-hills near the margin of swamps in the most secluded situations, which were covered with brush so as to be undiscoverable. The inhabitants were kept in a state of constant terror by their visitations, for the object of such visits was to plunder, burn and murder. The farmers were obliged to carry their muskets with them even into the fields. After Yorktown their depredations ceased for a time, but as the British government delayed peace their atrocities were renewed. It was a mongrel crew of this character that was giving chase to the sleigh and its occupants. They were easily recognized by their accouterments.
On! And on! And on! To Peggy the whole landscape was featureless save for thefarmhouse in the far distance. The sand-hills with their pines, and the salt marshes to the eastward blended together in an indistinguishable white blur. The wind whistled in their teeth, a rushing, roaring gale, filled with a salt flavor. Her calash had blown off, and her hair was flying, but the girl was conscious of but one thing which was that the thud of horses’ feet was drawing steadily nearer.
“Faster, Peggy,” cried Fairfax imploringly. “Faster!” As he spoke there came the report of muskets.
A scream burst from Sally’s lips as a bullet fell just short of the sleigh. An answering roar came from Fairfax’s gun, and the unequal fight was on. Peggy dared not look around.
“The whip,” she gasped hoarsely to Sally, for the lash had dropped from her hand and lay in the bed of the sleigh. “The whip.”
In an instant Sally had found it, and leaning over the dashboard she let it fall again and again on the horses. Infuriated at such treatment the animals plunged forward madly, and it was all Peggy could do to guide them. The crossroad leading to the farmhouse was but half a mile distant now. There wereclumps of pines bordering it which would afford some protection from the bullets of the enemy. Could they reach it? The road swung to the south abruptly, and the horses took it on a sheer run. The noble animals were at their highest speed and doing their utmost, but to Peggy they seemed to move at snail’s pace. The yelling, shouting band of ruffians was undoubtedly coming closer. It was amazing with what speed they had borne down upon the sleigh, but they were better horsed. Suddenly the outcries took a louder note. A shower of bullets fell about the sleigh, and in agonized tones Fairfax called to the others to get under the seats. Peggy did not know whether Sally and Nurse Johnson obeyed the command or not, but she did not stir. She could not. She was possessed with the determination to reach the crossroad, with its protecting pines. If they could but reach that road! Sally was sobbing, and Peggy’s own breath came gaspingly. She leaned forward, and in utter desperation tried to call to the horses, but her cries were lost in a series of blood-curdling yells from the pursuers.
A SHOWER OF BULLETS FELL ABOUT THE SLEIGH.A SHOWER OF BULLETS FELL ABOUT THE SLEIGH.
Fairfax was making a gallant defense, but the odds were greatly against him. It was a miracle that he was not hit by some of the bullets that were falling about them. His own aim had been more fortunate, and three ruffians had toppled from their saddles. Still, it could be but a question of time ere the greater number would be victorious, and that the robbers were aware of this was apparent in their shouts of triumph.
Presently the leader of the band, who was astride a big bay, spurred his horse forward.
“Halt!” he cried. “Halt, young man!” The youth’s reply was a shot, and the bay went down.
A howl of rage arose from the marauders, and they tore down the road like so many demons. Just as the sleigh reached the crossroad two of them dashed past to the heads of the horses, and with shouts of exultation reached out to grasp the bits. And then, from out of the thickets of pines, little jets of smoke puffed forth and the two rascals tumbled to the ground. Before the occupants of the sleigh could realize what had happened a body of twenty or thirty troopers rode fromamong the trees, and made a dash for the enemy. Fairfax uttered a whoop of joy.
“The Jersey Dragoons!” he cried.
At sight of them the bandits turned to flee, but the dragoons were after them on the run, shouting, yelling, and with pistol-balls flying. All became in an instant a scene of the most lively confusion. Volley after volley the troopers poured into the fleeing ruffians, and here and there men and horses dropped.
The air reeked with the smell of gunpowder, and many riderless horses, snorting with fear and pain, galloped with flying reins up and down the road. The ground was strewn with dead and dying, and the snow was trampled and bloody. The onset of the dragoons was pitiless, incessant, furious; no quarter being given. The state wanted these wretches extirpated, and whenever an encounter took place the conflict was sure to be a sanguinary one. Soon the shattered ranks of the ruffian band scattered for the sand-hills, and the captain, knowing that the bandits would have the advantage once the hills were reached, sounded the recall. Reluctantly, his men gave up the chase.
As the dragoons charged the bandits Fairfax had taken the lines from Peggy, and driven beyond range of the bullets, then stopped to watch the assault. Their escape had been so narrow that none of them could realize that their safety was assured. Peggy and Sally were white and shaken, and Nurse Johnson retained her composure with difficulty. Now as the troopers came up to them they welcomed them with deep gratitude.
“’Twas a close call,” was the captain’s comment to Fairfax. “You were doing nobly, sir, but the odds were hopeless.”
“Had you not come, captain, I dare not think of the result,” said Fairfax with emotion. “There was but one more round of ammunition left when you appeared with your men, though I knew not of it. Mother here was doing the loading, and she did not tell me.”
“I am glad that we happened along,” said the officer. “The highways are not safe these days. Our state troops are doing what we can toward making them so, but good men are scarce and robbers many. ’Twas the merest accident that we chose that spot for our middaymeal. We were right in the midst of it when you were seen with those miscreants in pursuit.”
“But,” spoke the youth with some bewilderment, “my uncle wrote that their depredations had ceased since Yorktown.”
“And so they did for a time, but the respite was short. What with these robbers, and the raids of the refugees Jerseymen scarce know which way to turn. The state is in truth sorely tried. Where does your uncle live, and for what place are you bound?”
“Thomas Ashley is my uncle. He lives at Freehold, which should not be many miles distant,” answered Fairfax. “We came to make our home there. That is, my mother and I did. These two young ladies are visitors.”
“Their welcome, while a warm one, is not much to their liking, I’ll warrant,” said the officer with a light laugh, and a quick glance at the pale faces of the maidens. “Well, you will have no more trouble from this on. This stretch of the turnpike is the most dangerous in the county, and once past it one is safe from molestation. Good-bye! A safejourney to you. I think we shall finish that dinner now.”
He would not listen to their thanks, but saluting, wheeled, and rode back to the conflict ground where some troopers were attending to the wounded. Fairfax spoke to the horses, and silently the journey which had had such a tragic interruption was resumed.
“Ours are no hirelings trained to the fight,With cymbal and clarion, all glittering and bright;No prancing of chargers, no martial display;No war-trump is heard from our silent array.O’er the proud heads of our freemen our star-bannerwaves;Men, firm as their mountains, and still as theirgraves.”—T. Graves.
“Ours are no hirelings trained to the fight,With cymbal and clarion, all glittering and bright;No prancing of chargers, no martial display;No war-trump is heard from our silent array.O’er the proud heads of our freemen our star-bannerwaves;Men, firm as their mountains, and still as theirgraves.”
—T. Graves.
Although each member of the little party had borne himself well in the face of peril, now each one found himself in the utter exhaustion that follows unusual stress of mind or body. It was no longer possible to lighten the tediousness of travel by conversation, and for this reason the remainder of the journey seemed long and exceedingly wearisome. Had conditions been other than they were both Peggy and Sally would have noticed the broad morasses which bisected the wide plains they were now traversing. They would have exclaimed at the acres of reeds which coveredthe vast extent of these marshes, and at the wild fowl which rose in clouds from them; for already the ducks were flying. They would have discussed how these swamps became dangerous quagmires at a later season, and how the sandy soil, now so firm and solid under its blanket of snow, would become soft and yielding so that horses could scarce travel through it.
All these things failed to rouse them from the weariness that held them. The over-hanging branches of the leafless trees arched over the highway, and obscured the light of the westering sun. Further on, the road left the forest and ran by open fields and hedgerows of cultivated lands. It was not until they had passed through a low lying plain, and crossed the broad marsh which separated it from the wooded heights of Freehold that it occurred to any of them that they were passing over the battle-ground of Monmouth. Then, as the high peaked roof of the court-house came into view, Nurse Johnson roused herself.
“Is it not somewhere hereabouts that the Battle of Monmouth was fought?” she asked.“Methinks I remember ’twas at the seat of Monmouth County that His Excellency’s forces overtook the English.”
“Yes.” Fairfax looked about him. “The hottest part of the battle occurred at yon parsonage; although I’ve heard that there was hard fighting over the entire plain.”
“Oh, don’t talk of battles,” broke in Sally glancing about fearfully. “Every bush and tree seems but made to hide an enemy.”
“Give me pardon, my dear,” spoke Nurse Johnson contritely. “’Tis small wonder that you wish not to hear of battles after the experience of the day. I make no doubt but that all of us will be glad when we are within the sheltering walls of a house. Are we almost there, son?”
“Yes, mother. ’Tis just beyond the village a short distance, though I know not in which direction the farm lies. I will have to inquire at the tavern.”
The amber light of dusk was tipping the trees when the youth turned from the highway into the wooded road leading to his uncle’s dwelling. The farmhouse was gray and weather-beaten, set in a circle of cleared land,and ringed by the forest. There was something about the well-sweep, the orchard, the gardens, that spoke of neglect and desolation, and Peggy felt a chill go through her as she noted no stir of life about the place. From the open doors of the barn came no movement of restless horse, or low of cattle. Not a twitter nor cheep from the hen-house broke the quiet that brooded over everything. Though it was still early twilight the wooden shutters were tightly closed, and had it not been for the light which streamed through their crescentic openings the house would have been deemed deserted. The girl started nervously as a night-owl hooted suddenly from a near-by thicket.
“I wonder if they are at home?” she mused aloud.
“Why, of course they are, Peggy,” answered Sally. “Does thee not see the light?”
“Yes; but——” began Peggy, and paused expectantly as Fairfax, who had alighted, knocked loudly upon the door.
It was a full moment before a reply came; then a man’s voice demanded sharply:
“What’s wanted?”
“’Tis your nephew, Uncle Tom,” answered the lad cheerily.
“Nephew, heigh? I haven’t any in this part of the country. You can’t put in a take-off like that on Tom Ashley. Clear out! My firelock’s ready.”
“Well, this is a fine welcome, I must say,” cried Nurse Johnson indignantly. “Write for us to come all the way from Virginia to visit you, and then find a firelock ready for us. I don’t think much of such doings, Tom Ashley!”
“Why a pox on me!” came in excited accents from behind the closed door. “Didst hear that, Mary? That’s Hannah Johnson’s voice as sure as preaching. It must be Hannah and her boy.”
There followed the rattle of a chain, the drawing of bolts, then the door was flung wide, and the light from a blazing fire in the fireplace threw into strong relief the forms of a man and a woman standing on the threshold.
“Have in, have in,” cried the man genially. “Mary, see to the opening of the stable while I bring the folks in. Ye are as welcome asthe spring would be, though ye did give us a great scare. ’Twas a most unmannerly greeting, but ’twas not meant for ye. The times are such that no man dares to open his door to a visitor when dark is coming on without he knows who ’tis. This is a surprise. I had writ ye not to come.”
“You had, uncle?” queried Fairfax as they shook hands. Thomas Ashley had left the door by this time, and now stood beside the sleigh. “When? We did not get it.”
“’Tis not to be wondered at considering the state of the country. I sent it the last of January. Still, so long as ye didn’t get it I’m glad ye are here. So you brought your sweetheart along, heigh? Which one is she?”
A ripple of laughter rose to Peggy’s lips at the remark. Her spirits had revived as soon as she understood that their reception was due to caution rather than to the lack of welcome, and she spoke roguishly as the farmer assisted her out of the sleigh:
“We did not bring her, friend. Thy nephew hath had to content himself with Sally and me because Betty could not come.”
“I’ll warrant the boy hath not found theconsolation irksome,” laughed Mr. Ashley. A twinkle came into his eye as he noted the youth’s blushes and the mischievous glances of the girls. “Well, well,” he said, “ye are welcome anyway. Now, Hannah, go right in with these girls while nevvy helps me with the horses.”
“You surely don’t keep that barn door open when there are horses inside, do you, Tom?” Nurse Johnson’s disapproval of the lax fastening of the barn was plainly evident in her tones.
“It won’t make any difference, Hannah, whether ’tis fastened or not. If there’s horses there somebody gets them anyway. We leave the door open to save them the trouble of breaking the bolt.”
“Then why do we put the horses there?” queried Fairfax in blank consternation.
“We don’t, nevvy.” The farmer chuckled. “If we did we wouldn’t have them long. Wait a minute. There! There’s Mary now.”
The dwelling was a story and a half house, with a lean-to attached to one end. Just as Farmer Ashley finished speaking the whole front of the lean-to swung open in a greatdoor, disclosing an aperture large enough to admit both horses and sleigh. Mrs. Ashley emerged from the dark interior as the door swung back, and came toward them.
“Well, that is a contrivance,” ejaculated Nurse Johnson after she had greeted her sister. “Who would think of finding a stable right in the house?”
“’Tis the only way we can keep a horse,” explained the farmer’s wife. “’Tis right next the kitchen, so we know the minute anything is wrong, if we have a horse there; which we have not at present. We believe that no one outside the family knows of its use for such purpose, and ’tis something to have a hiding-place for animals. But come in! Here we stand talking, and you must be both cold and hungry. Come, Hannah! And ye also, my dears. I am glad that the supper is belated to-night, for now ’twill be hot, which is well after a long journey.”
Thus talking she led them into the house, carefully bolting the door after them. A door on one side the chimney gave entrance to the lean-to. Another, on the other side of the room, opened into another apartment, but thekitchen itself seemed to be the main living-room. It was large and roomy, and a table drawn up before the hearth was spread for the evening meal. A great fire of pine boughs blazed in the deep-throated fireplace filling the room with fragrance and cheerfulness. The maidens ran to it with exclamations of pleasure.
“Oh!” cried Sally with a deep breath. “How pleasant and homey it is. I feel as though this afternoon were a dreadful dream, and that naught could befall us here. Dost see, Peggy? There is a quilt on the frame. ’Twill be a fine chance to teach Captain Johnson the stitches. ’Twill give him relaxation from military duty.”
“He will have small time for relaxation, I fear me,” spoke the farmer entering at this moment with Fairfax from the lean-to. “There is to be great activity in the army this summer, I hear. ’Tis to be hoped that something will be done to help us. The Jerseys have suffered greatly in the war, and Monmouth County more than the rest of the state put together.”
“We had a taste of what you are goingthrough this afternoon,” Fairfax informed them quietly. “We were set upon by robbers, and had it not been for the opportune coming of some state dragoons you would not have had to give us welcome.”
“Robbers!” exclaimed the farmer and his wife simultaneously. “Why did you not tell us sooner? Was any one hurt?”
“No,” answered the youth. “Of course we were upset, which is small cause for wonderment.”
“Tell us about it, nevvy,” began Thomas Ashley eagerly, but his wife interposed:
“Now, father, if no one hath received a hurt let’s eat before the supper gets cold. A good story will keep better than hot victuals. We shall have the night to talk in. ’Tis a long journey from Virginia, and belike they are hungry. But first, Hannah, tell us who these young friends are.”
“Mercy on me, Mary,” gasped Nurse Johnson, drawing the girls forward. “I clear forgot my manners. This is Mistress Margaret Owen, who went back with me to Williamsburgh when I was here last year. I have writ you anent her visit, as I make no doubt youremember. And this is her friend, Mistress Sarah Evans. She hath been ailing of late, and methought the change would be of benefit. We call them Peggy and Sally.”
“You are both welcome,” said the hostess warmly, “though I would the times were not so troublous. What with the pine robbers, the freebooters and the Tories we are in daily dread of attack.”
“A plague take the rascals,” cried Mr. Ashley excitedly. “No man’s life, liberty, or property is safe these days. We are set upon in the fields, and upon the highways. Our dwellings are sacked and burned, and we are thankful if life is left. I tell ye,” he cried bringing down his fist upon the table with so much vim that the dishes rattled, “I tell ye New Jersey hath stood the brunt of the war. She hath been, and is now, the battle-field of the new nation. Things have come to such a pass that some way, somehow, relief must be had from these internal enemies.”
“But hath nothing been done to rid the state of them?” asked the youth.
“Done? Everything hath been done, nevvy. We have not only furnished ourquota of men to the main army, but also formed companies of militia, both cavalry and infantry, to fight these pests. The Legislature is endeavoring to establish a strict patrol of the coast and the highways. In addition, we men who are too old for constant service have formed an association to retaliate upon our greatest enemies, the Tories, and to go out as necessity demands. Why, think of it! Up there in New York City are many of our friends and neighbors formed into a corps called The Associated Loyalists, under the leadership of our former governor, William Franklin. An unworthy son of a great father! At his command this corps harasses the state at will. Knowing the country ’tis easy for it to slip in where the greatest harm can be done, and out it goes before we know ’tis here. Staten Island and Sandy Hook are handy refuges for such raiders. We might handle the robbers, could we be rid of these incursions. We hoped for peace after Yorktown, but the depredations are now worse than ever. Something must be done, for New Jersey’s very existence is threatened.”
“There seems to be a need of men,” remarkedthe young man musingly. “When am I to report for duty, Uncle Tom?”
Mr. Ashley turned toward him quickly.
“There is need of men,” he said. “Your commission was to be with the regular army, if you wanted it so. Colonel Elias Dayton, who now commands the Jersey Brigade at Chatham, wants every man to report for duty this month. But——”
“But what, Uncle Tom?” asked Fairfax as the farmer paused abruptly.
“But I wish ye’d stay in Monmouth, nevvy. We need every man we can get to help us defend our homes. We have sent and sent to the main army until we are almost stripped of fighting men. General Washington may have to go against the English this summer, and then again he may have to lie inactive. It all depends upon the instructions which England will give to the new general who is to supersede Clinton. Of course, with a campaign there would be more chance for glory with the regular line. Such distinction as that must appeal to a lad of parts; but, boy, New Jersey needs you. Why, Washington depends on us for flour, and how can we raise the grain whenwe are shot down as we plow the fields? A man can do service, and great service, right here in the militia. There won’t be much glory, nevvy, but there will be plenty of action. In Freehold there is a company now of twenty-five twelvemonth boys that needs a captain. The Legislature will gladly give you the commission. Now, nevvy, the choice is with you. What will you do?”
The youth let his head fall upon his breast in thought. The supper had long since been finished, and the other members of the group sat interested listeners to the conversation between uncle and nephew. Peggy looked at the young fellow wonderingly. A captain’s commission in the regular army was to be desired. She remembered how John Drayton had had to serve for years to obtain one. Such an office gave a rank that no militia could offer. Could any youth deliberately cast aside the distinction? A glance at Fairfax gave no clue to his mental attitude. It seemed a long time that he sat there meditating, but presently he looked up and met the questioning gaze of Thomas Ashley with a smile.
“The greatest need seems to be right here,” he said. “I think I’d like to help clear out the Tories, and to get a whack at those pine robbers. I have a reckoning to settle with them on my own account. This field will suit me all right.”
“Good for you, nevvy,” cried his uncle in a shout. “I thought you’d do it. You are a lad after my own heart. Still, it is only fair that you should know that your task will be fraught with danger. The Tories single out for vengeance any man who fights with unction against them. Let him proceed with too much ardor and he becomes a marked man.”
“That is true in any part of the country, uncle, as well as in New Jersey,” was the lad’s rejoinder. “I am ready for whatever goes with the work.”
But at this there came a cry from his mother:
“Tom Ashley, what are you getting my boy into?”
“Nothing that my own boys have not endured, Hannah. One fell in the great battle on yonder plain near the court-house, and liesnow in Freehold burying-ground. The other, Charley, made the same choice as your boy, and is down at Tom’s River helping to defend old Monmouth.”
“But oh——” she began when Fairfax interrupted her:
“It’s all right, mother. It means no more danger than I’d have to encounter with the regular army, or than I have already faced in the militia at home.”
“It may be,” she answered, but her eyes were troubled. “It may be.”
“It waxes late,” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley glancing at Sally whose eyelids were drooping in spite of herself. “These girls, at least, are ready for bed; and to bed they must go.”
And without heeding their protests the good woman hurried them up to a little room under the eaves, nor would she depart until they were tucked warmly in the great feather-bed. Sally’s drowsiness left her as soon as she found herself alone with Peggy.
“Peggy,” she whispered, snuggling close to her friend, “what does thee think of it all?”
“’Tis like the Carolinas and Virginia were,” returned Peggy soberly. “Oh, Sally! is itnot awful that men should so hunt and hound each other? The poor people of the states have stood so much that ’tis marvelous that any are left for resistance. Nurse Johnson whispered to me that she should not feel easy until we were back in Philadelphia.”
“Would that we were,” said Sally earnestly. “Peggy!”
“Yes, Sally.”
“I was afraid this afternoon when the robbers attacked us. What if I were to be fearful all the time?”
“We must not be, Sally,” spoke Peggy quickly. “’Twould wherrit these kind friends if we were to show fear. They will take excellent care of us, and take us home soon, I make no doubt.”
“Isn’t thee ever afraid, Peggy?”
“Why, yes; of course,” answered Peggy. “Every one is, I think. But mother told me once never to anticipate trouble, and so I try not to think about what might happen. We must be bright and cheerful whatever occurs. It should be easy for thee, Sally. Thee is always happy in the hospital.”
“That is because I have something to do,”responded Sally sagely. “If one is so busy that one has no time to think one can’t be afraid.”
“I make no doubt then thee will soon have plenty to occupy thee when Fairfax joins his company, Sally.”
Sally laughed as Peggy had intended she should.
“I like Fairfax,” she said with emphasis. “But didst notice, Peggy? He spoke not once to either of us after we entered the house. Truly, his diffidence doth envelop him like a mantle; yet, when those robbers were giving us chase, he had no difficulty in telling us just what to do. Indeed, he was then as much at ease in speaking to us as thy father or Robert would have been.”
“Then he was doing ‘man’s duty,’” laughed Peggy. “’Tis marvelous how an emergency doth make him shed his shyness.”
“I like him,” repeated Sally. “In very truth, Peggy Owen, doth thee not consider him the very nicest lad that we know?”
“And yet,” observed Peggy meditatively, addressing the darkness, “methinks there was a girl, not a hundred miles from this verybed, who told me that she agreed with my Cousin Harriet that Clifford excelled all other youths.”
“I am going to sleep,” announced Sally, turning over hastily. “Does thee not think it time? We had a wearisome journey.”
Peggy giggled appreciatively.
“That was a well directed shot,” she remarked, “since it hath reduced the ranks to silence.”