“It wounds, indeed,To bear affronts too great to be forgiven,And not have power to punish.”—“Spanish Friar,” Dryden.
“It wounds, indeed,To bear affronts too great to be forgiven,And not have power to punish.”
—“Spanish Friar,” Dryden.
“Let them sleep, Hannah. I make no doubt but that they are greatly fatigued.”
“Yet methinks they would not care to be left behind if we go to the meeting-house, Mary. Both maidens have regard for the Sabbath. First-day, they call it.”
Peggy sat up quickly as the foregoing words penetrated her drowsed consciousness, and parting the curtains of the bed looked out. The door leading into the adjoining chamber was ajar, and through it the voices of the two women sounded distinctly. A flood of bright sunshine filled the little room with dazzling light, and she uttered an exclamation of dismay at the lateness of the hour.
“Sally,” she called, bending over her stillsleeping friend and shaking her gently, “’tis time to get up. I fear me that we have over-slept.”
Sally stirred protestingly between the lavender-scented sheets, then opened her blue eyes sleepily.
“Did mother call?” she murmured. “Oh, dear! I don’t want to get up.”
“Thy wits are wool-gathering, Sally,” laughed Peggy slipping from the high bed without touching the small flight of steps generally used for descending. “Thee is not at home, but in Freehold. We must dress with speed, for the friends wish to go to the meeting-house.”
“Heigh-ho!” yawned Sally rubbing her eyes. “Methought I was in Philadelphia, and here we are in—— Is it East or West Jersey, Peggy?”
“Neither. ’Tis New Jersey, Sally.”
“But which would it be had they not gone together to make New Jersey?” persisted Sally.
“It seems to me, miss, that for so sleepy a damsel thee is consumed with a great thirst for geographical knowledge,” was Peggy’scomment as she dipped her face in the washing bowl.
“Does thee really know, Peggy Owen?”
“I don’t, Sally. Is thee pleased?”
“Yes,” declared Sally. “I thought of course thee would be informed, as thee has traveled so much. Peggy!”
“Well?”
“Did thee name the bedposts to find who would be thy fate? And at which one did thee look? Betty and I always do it when we sleep in a strange bed.”
“Yes, Sally. And I looked at this one.” Peggy lightly touched the post nearest her.
“Why, that’s the very one I saw first,” cried Sally excitedly. “For whom did thee name it, Peggy? What if it should be the same as mine! I called it—Fairfax.”
“Fairfax,” came from Peggy at the same moment. A merry peal of laughter filled the chamber as they uttered the name in unison.
“And how shall it be decided?” cried Sally gaily. “I shall never be second, Peggy.”
“What if Betty were here?” queried Peggy mirthfully.
“We should both have to give up then, of course. I’ll tell thee what: Being of the sect of Friends we cannot fight a duel, as the world’s people do, so when we go down-stairs let’s note which one of us he addresses first. That one shall be The One,” she ended impressively.
“Very well. Is thee ready, Sally?”
Arm in arm they descended the stairs. A chorus of “Good-mornings” greeted them as they entered the living-room. Mrs. Ashley, who was just putting breakfast on the table, glanced at them smilingly.
“You are both as bright as the morning,” she remarked approvingly. “’Tis no need to ask how ye slept. Truly your experience of yesterday doth not seem to have weighed upon you as I feared it would.”
“And how I did sleep!” exclaimed Sally. “The bed was so downy that Peggy had hard work to make me get up. What virtue does thee give thy feathers, Mistress Ashley, to make them bestow so sound a slumber?”
“Methinks any bed would have served the purpose when you were so fatigued, child,” answered the hostess, pleased nevertheless bythe girl’s tribute to her feathers. “Nevvy, will you find places for the girls at the table?”
“Certainly, Aunt Mary.” Fairfax placed the chairs around the table, then drawing out two of them, turned toward the maidens, his face flushing at the necessity of addressing them, his whole manner betokening the diffidence that beset him. With demure looks but twinkling eyes the girls awaited his next words eagerly. “Have these chairs,” he said.
An irrepressible giggle came from Sally. Peggy bit her lips to keep back her laughter, and cast down her eyes quickly. The youth had included both in his speech, and, during the meal that followed, his few remarks were characterized by a like impartiality. When at length all were in the sleigh bound for the meeting-house at Freehold both girls were bubbling over with mischief.
“What spirits you two are in this morning,” observed Nurse Johnson. “Do tell us the fun.”
“’Tis thy son,” explained Sally in a whisper. “We want to see which one of us he addresses singly, because we both named thesame bedpost after him, and ’tis the only way to decide our fate. He won’t speak to either of us alone,” she ended plaintively.
Nurse Johnson laughed heartily, well knowing that these girls liked her boy, and that such teasing as they indulged in was partly girlish fun, and partly a desire to cure him of his bashfulness.
“What a thing it is to be young,” she commented almost enviously. “Mary, did we ever do such things?”
“As naming bedposts, do you mean, Hannah? Truly. Many and many a post have we both named.”
“And how did it turn out?” asked Sally eagerly. Before the lady could reply Peggy spoke suddenly:
“Why do thy husband and Fairfax carry their muskets?” she inquired with surprise.
“’Tis not safe to go to meeting without them, child,” responded the matron gravely. “To such a state hath New Jersey come that ’tis impossible to go from one’s door without firelocks.”
“’Tis as it was when the country was firstsettled,” remarked Nurse Johnson. “Only then, ’twas fear of the savages, and now——”
“’Tis of a foe no less savage, Hannah,” completed her sister. “The long years of warfare have rendered the enemy cruel and pitiless in the extreme.”
“’Tis as bad here as on the frontiers,” commented Peggy. “Before we came ’twas talked at Philadelphia that an uprising of the Indians was looked for along the borders. In truth, methinks there hath already been atrocities committed upon the settlers, but affairs seem no worse with them than they are here with you.”
When they finally drew up before the Freehold meeting-house it was obvious to the least heedful that something unusual was astir. Although the snow lay deep in front of the building and a keen nip was in the air, there were groups of men scattered over the green. Despite the chill, some sat upon the steps of the church, others clustered about the wagons in the wagon-shed, and still others stood about, stamping their feet or swinging their arms to keep warm. But whether sitting or standing each man held a musket in the hollow of hisarm ready for instant use, while about the church two men patrolled as sentinels. All the light and laughter died out of the faces of the maidens at these warlike signs, and unconsciously they drew closer together.
“I wonder what hath happened,” mused Farmer Ashley stopping before the horse-block. “What’s to do, neighbor?” he called to a man in a near-by group.
“Sam Nathan’s farm was raided by the loyalists last night, Tom,” came the startling response. “His house and barns were burned, and Sam himself killed. His wife and daughter escaped into the woods, and reached Freehold this morning half dead from shock and exposure.”
“Sam Nathan!” ejaculated Mrs. Ashley becoming pale. “Why, that was only five miles from us, father. ’Twill be our turn next.”
“Now don’t go to looking for trouble, Mary,” chided her husband. “You women-folks go right into the meeting-house, and whatever you do, be cheerful. Nevvy and I will come in presently.”
The church was partly filled with sad-eyed,patient-faced women, whose quiet demeanor was more heartrending than tears would have been. Some gave them the welcome that those who are united in the bonds of affliction give each other; others only stared at them with stony, unseeing eyes. Whose turn would be the next? was the thought that filled every breast. Oppressed and saddened, Peggy thoughtfully took the seat assigned her, and, as Sally sank down beside her, she slipped her hand into her friend’s protectingly. Sally responded with a reassuring pressure, and so with clasped hands the two sat throughout the service. And a memorable service it was. While the minister preached, the men took turns in patrolling the building and watching the horses. Beside every pew stood a musket, ready for instant use. Even in the house of God these people were not secure from the attacks of their enemies.
And without the sun shone brightly upon the hills and plains of Monmouth. Over the meadows lay the snow, and on the streams a thick coating of ice; but the pines were green in the woodlands, and the air—though sharp and nipping—still breathed of spring and hope. The land was fair to see in its wintergarb. Man alone was the discordant note in Nature’s harmony.
As Thomas Ashley had said, all New Jersey was roused to action. Harassed and harried as no other state had been, with the exception of South Carolina, at this time it seemed on the verge of extinction, and its condition was in truth deplorable. In the earlier years of the war it had been swept like a plague by the horde of hireling Hessians and the British army. In addition, the main army of the patriots had wintered for several years among its mountains, and drawn upon it for supplies until the state was all but beggared. But if liberty live the army must eat; so the farmers plowed, and sowed, and reaped, even though many dropped in the fields from the crack of an ambushed rifle.
As though suffering from the depredations of the pine robbers were not enough, there was added to the state’s afflictions the incursions of the freebooters of the sea, and, far more bitter to bear—for civil war is ever without mercy and compassion—were the heinous outrages of the Tories. It was no wonder, with foes without and foes within, that thetemper of the people had risen to fever heat, and that they were making determined efforts to rid themselves of their enemies.
The meeting was ended finally, and with saddened mien the family reëntered the sleigh. Farmer Ashley’s face wore a grave expression, while Fairfax’s countenance betokened a set determination. He turned toward his mother abruptly.
“Mother,” he said, “these girls must go home. New Jersey is no place for them.”
“You never spoke a truer word, nevvy,” chimed in his uncle. “They must go home; the sooner they start, the better ’twill be. So long as the snow lasts, the riding will be easy. Now, if you are willing to risk another encounter with the robbers, we will start with them Tuesday.”
“But would not Friend Nurse and thy wife be left unprotected while ye were away?” questioned Peggy in troubled accents.
“Now, Peggy, don’t wherrit over that,” spoke Nurse Johnson. “The first thing to attend to is getting you girls home. I should never have another minute’s peace if anything befell you. I ought never to havebrought you into such danger, but I knew not that things were as they are here. Mary and I can take care of ourselves.”
“It won’t do, Hannah,” said Thomas Ashley decidedly. “The girls must go of a truth, but you and Mary must have protection, too. Capable ye both are, but ’twould not do to leave ye alone. The journey to Philadelphia would take all of six days, there and back. That would mean fast going at that. Should there come a thaw there’s no telling when we’d get home.”
“Friend,” broke in Peggy eagerly, “if thee could get us to Trenton there would be no need for thee to go on to Philadelphia. Both Sally and I have friends there who would see that we reached home safely. Beside, the stage runs thrice a week from that point to our city, and should other means fail, we could take that.”
“Come! that’s well thought of,” he cried quickly. “’Twould be but a day’s travel to Trenton, if the snow holds. Mary and Hannah could bide in Freehold until our return; so we’ll call the matter settled. Nevvy, we will start Tuesday.”
“Then on Tuesday ye will both be gone,” said Fairfax with such a sigh of relief that Sally, despite the gravity of the situation, could not forbear a little laugh.
“Oh, Peggy!” she cried, “why weren’t we named Betty? Had we been Captain Johnson would not wish us gone as soon as we arrived.”
“’Tis not as you think, Mistress Sally,” he protested earnestly. “Indeed, in truth”—he faltered, then continued manfully—“did I regard your friend as your words imply I would not consent to wait until Tuesday to take her back.”
A puzzled look spread over Sally’s face.
“Doth he mean that he is indeed fond of Betty?” she whispered to Peggy under cover of Thomas Ashley’s laughter which followed the youth’s response.
“I fear to say,” was Peggy’s amused reply.
And so, in spite of the fact that ravage and pillage had come very near to them in the night, they returned to the farm in much better spirits than would have been deemed possible when they left the meeting-house.
“Man is not born alone to act, or beThe sole asserter of man’s liberty;But so God shares the gifts of head and heart,And crowns blest woman with a hero’s part.”—Author Unknown.
“Man is not born alone to act, or beThe sole asserter of man’s liberty;But so God shares the gifts of head and heart,And crowns blest woman with a hero’s part.”
—Author Unknown.
“Surely thee is not unpacking, Peggy?” questioned Sally as she entered their little room for the night. Peggy had preceded her by a few moments, and was now bending over her portmanteau. “It hardly seems worth while when we return so soon.”
“I am just getting my diary, Sally,” answered Peggy, drawing forth the book after several attempts to locate it. “Methought the time was propitious to make an entry. And of a verity that encounter with those robbers ought to make exciting reading for the Social Select Circle.”
“’Twas a wondrous adventure,” cried Sally with a shiver of pure enjoyment. “Sincenone of us received injury ’tis delightsome to have so stirring a thing to record for the girls. And oh, Peggy! is it not charming that I am with thee?”
“It is indeed, Sally. Anything is always more enjoyable when thee shares it with me; although I agree with Fairfax in wishing that we were at home.”
“If we start Third-day we should be there soon, Peggy. Were it not for the danger I should like to stay a little longer.”
“And so should I,” responded Peggy. “There! that entry is finished, with a half page to spare. Wouldn’t thee like to add something, Sally?”
“I’ll wait until morning,” decided Sally. “Although,” she added, “perchance ’twould be best to do it now, as to-morrow will be the day before we leave, and consequently we are quite apt to be busy.”
But Monday morning brought a clouded and softened sky; a brisk south wind arose, and the rain came driving. By Tuesday the wind had increased to a heavy gale, and the rain came with violence from the southwest. The snow-drifts that had been so white andfair became yellow, and smirched, and muddy, and lost their curves and lines. The roads were troughs of slush and water, impassable for any sort of vehicle. In spite of this condition of things Fairfax Johnson insisted that the maidens should be taken to Trenton.
“Why, son, ’twould be monstrous to send them forth in such weather,” remonstrated his mother. “They would get drenched.”
“Better that than to stay here,” he declared, but his uncle interposed:
“’Twould never do, nevvy. You couldn’t get as far as Freehold with the roads as they are. The rain won’t last more than a few days; and if it keeps us in it works the same with the raiders by keeping them out. They won’t venture into Monmouth County until the weather changes. They know too well the danger of the quagmires. We must bide our time, nevvy.”
And with this the lad was forced to content himself. For three days the rain continued, and with its ceasing every vestige of snow had disappeared, leaving conditions worse than ever. The roads were very soft and heavy, and most perilous where they crossed themarshes. Even the youth acknowledged that travel with a wagon was utterly out of the question. But he himself managed to ride into Freehold daily that he might meet with his company, and begin preparations to take the field as soon as offensive operations by the raiders were resumed.
So the days went by, but they were pleasant and busy ones for Peggy and Sally. True to their resolve to accept with cheerfulness whatever befell, their gay spirits softened and enlivened the gloom which might otherwise have settled upon the family. The mornings were devoted to housework and cookery; the afternoons to quilting the homespun bed-quilt which Sally had noticed in the frames on the night of their arrival. In the evenings all gathered about the great fireplace and indulged in such recreations as the farmhouse afforded. The girls had each set a pair of stockings upon the needles which they declared were for Fairfax, and, much to his embarrassment, he was called upon every evening to note the progress of the work. After the fashion of the time the name, Fairfax, and the date, 1782, were knit in the threads.
Soon the raw winds of March gave place to softer ones which blew caressingly from the south, dispelling all fear of frost. The soft wet of the ground disappeared under the balmy sunshine, and the air was a fount of freshness. The glad earth reveled under the warmth of the sun, and hill and valley, wood and meadow, blossomed under the touch of spring.
Along the Hudson, Washington gathered his forces for a final campaign, for not yet would England consent to terms of peace, and urged with entreaty upon the states the need of men and supplies. But with resources drained, and rendered apathetic by the long years of fighting, the country believed that the crisis had passed, and so responded slowly to the appeals of their leader. Each state had its own troubles that demanded attention, and the general welfare was lost sight of in the specific need. In New Jersey particularly, rent as it was by the internecine warfare, nothing was talked or thought but the putting down of its own individual enemies. As soon as the weather permitted the attacks of the loyalists were renewed with increased virulence.It was as though these people realized that with the coming of peace nothing would remain for them but expatriation, and so were determined to leave behind them naught but desolation.
And to stay this lawlessness the young captain with his company rode hither and thither over the county, pursuing the raiders with so much zeal and intrepidity that their rancor was aroused toward him. There came a day when Fairfax did not return in the evening as was his custom. Far away from the south-eastern part of the county had come the alarm that the refugees, under the leadership of Frank Edwards—a notorious desperado loyalist—had come down from Sandy Hook, and were approaching the neighborhood of Cedar Creek. Upon receipt of the intelligence the young captain had immediately set forth to prevent their marauding progress into the interior. A sharp skirmish took place which resulted in victory for the Monmouth defenders, and when at length they reëntered Freehold, they bore with them the notorious Edwards, a prisoner, together with a majority of his Tory band. Thomas Ashley wasjubilant when the youth arrived with the news.
“Keep after ’em, nevvy,” he cried. “A few more such captures and old Monmouth may rest secure.”
“Report hath it that nothing short of hanging will be given Edwards,” Fairfax told him. “Few of the band will escape a sentence of some sort. Do you not think, Uncle Tom, that a few days could be taken now to get these maidens home? It preys upon my mind that they are still here.”
“And upon mine also, son,” said his mother gravely. “If these Tories are as vindictive as I hear they are there will be no safety for any of us since you have taken one of their leaders.”
“She speaks truth, nevvy. These girls have no part in this war. Pennsylvania hath woes of her own to endure. It is not just, or fitting that any of her citizens should be called upon to bear ours also. They shall go home.”
So once again Peggy and Sally gathered their belongings together for an early start to Trenton. All the day before the maidenswere in a pleasurable state of excitement. Each realized that New Jersey was no longer a place for them, so they were glad to go; still, there were regrets at parting from these people who had been so kind, and whom the vicissitudes of fortune might preclude them from ever seeing again. Full of this feeling, Peggy found herself the victim of a pleasing melancholy the night before they were to leave, and it was long past midnight ere she was able to sleep. How long she slept she did not know, but it seemed to her that she had just fallen into slumber when something caused her to open her eyes. For a few moments she lay in that strange debatable region between sleeping and waking when the mind cannot distinguish between the real and the imaginary. All at once she sat up, fully awake, every sense strained and alert. Something was wrong. What was it? She listened intently, but such an intense stillness reigned throughout the house that Sally’s soft breathing smote her with a sense of disturbance. Parting the curtains of the bed she glanced apprehensively about the little chamber. The wooden shutters were closed, but through theirbow-shaped openings came such a brilliant light that every object in the little room was plainly visible.
“How brightly the moon shines,” was her thought, and completely reassured she was about to draw the curtains when again there came the mysterious sound that had awakened her.
It was a crackling, snapping sound such as seasoned wood makes when the flame catches it in the open air. Very much alarmed Peggy slipped from the bed and ran to one of the windows. Softly she raised the sash, then cautiously swung back one of the shutters. She gave a low cry at the sight that met her gaze, and leaned far out of the window. The barn was a mass of flames, and there were dark forms flitting about among the budding trees. The raiders! For a moment she stood stricken with terror. Then the necessity for action roused her. Fairfax! Thomas Ashley! They must not be caught asleep. What would be their portion should these men find them? Full of excitement, her heart beating hard and fast, she sped into the adjoining room where Nurse Johnson slept.
“Awake!” she cried shaking her violently, her whisper rendered sharp and penetrating by fear. “The raiders are here. Thy son, Friend Nurse! There is danger. Oh, wake! wake!”
“What is it, Peggy?” Nurse Johnson was roused at last. “Are you ill?”
“The Tories,” gasped the maiden. “They are here. The barn is burning.”
In an instant Nurse Johnson was out of the bed, and had started for the door when the calm voice of her son spoke from the entrance:
“I hear. You women get in the middle room, and don’t go near a window. Uncle Tom is getting the muskets ready for the assault.”
Peggy ran back to close the shutter of the window she had opened, but could not forego a glance downward as she did so. The men, satisfied that nothing would be left of the barn, were now advancing stealthily toward the house, each bearing a lighted pine-knot. The girl’s heart beat pitifully as she divined their intention, which was obviously to set fire to the dwelling. She closed the shutter tightly, and then awakened Sally.
“Can’t we do something?” whisperedSally, after the women and the two girls had waited in breathless suspense for a few moments. “This waiting in the dark is terrifying. I shall scream if I can’t do something.”
Before a reply could be made there came a snort of terror from the lean-to, and a shout of triumph broke from the raiders as the snorting discovered the whereabouts of the horses. A ripping, tearing sound betokening that the boards were being torn from the improvised stable to get at the animals followed. A roar of rage burst from Farmer Ashley.
“At ’em, nevvy,” he cried. “They’re after the horses. He who shoots first has the advantage of the enemy.”
The young captain’s reply was a shot from his musket. A howl of anger rose from the attackers as the report of Thomas Ashley’s gun followed quickly. The two men then ran to other windows and began firing, endeavoring by quick shifting of position to give the impression that a large force was in the house. There were six muskets altogether, and one was placed by each window.
“This is work for us,” said Nurse Johnson calmly, as the women and girls in answer toSally’s plea came down-stairs. “We can load while you two do the shooting. Peggy, do you stay with me while Mary and Sally take that side.”
There ensued several minutes of brisk work from without as well as within, and bullets came spitefully through windows and doors. Presently Mary Ashley spoke shrilly:
“Father, where is the cartridge paper? There are no more cartridges made up.”
“I don’t know, mother,” shouted Mr. Ashley successfully dodging a bullet that came through a shutter. “Ask nevvy.”
But Fairfax turned a look of consternation on his aunt.
“If there are no more cartridges in the pouch we are done for,” he said. “There’s plenty of powder and ball, but I don’t know where to lay hand to wadding.”
“Any sort of paper will do, Mary,” interposed Nurse Johnson. “Get a book.”
Paper was a scarce commodity in those times, and few houses, especially country houses, kept it in quantity. Books were rarer still, so now Mrs. Ashley spoke with the calmness of despair:
“There isn’t a book on the place. I let——”
“Wait a minute,” cried Peggy. “I have one.” She ran up the stairs as she finished speaking and soon returned, a book in her hand.
“Oh, Peggy,” wailed Sally, “’tis thy diary. And how will the girls ever know what hath befallen us without it?”
“They are apt to know naught if we do not use it, Sally,” said Peggy with some excitement, proceeding to tear the leaves into squares. Presently she paused, powder-horn in hand. “How much powder do I put in, Friend Nurse?” she asked.
While Nurse Johnson was showing the proper amount the enemy’s fire slackened suddenly. Farmer Ashley and Fairfax exchanged apprehensive glances. Were they weary, or was their stock of cartridges getting low? Then the fire ceased altogether, and as the smoke lifted Fairfax stole a look through the opening in a shutter. He turned a troubled face toward them after a moment’s survey.
“There’s nothing to be seen,” he said. “Surely they have not gone away?”
At this juncture a call came from outside:
“Tom Ashley!”
“Well? What’s wanted?” cried the farmer.
“We want that nephew of yours, and we’re going to have him.”
“Come and get him, then,” growled Thomas Ashley.
“We’re going to, Tom. We’ve burned your barn, and taken your horses. Now unless you let us have that captain we’ll burn the house right over your head. Will you surrender Captain Johnson?”
“No,” came from the farmer in a roar. “What manner of man do you think I am that I’d let a pack of Tory scoundrels have my nephew?”
“The woods won’t be pleasant camping for your women-folks at this time of the year, Tom,” came in threatening accents.
“No,” shouted the farmer. “You can’t have him.”
“Uncle, I’d better go out to them,” said Fairfax. “If they will promise to let the rest of you alone, and not burn the house, I’ll——”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, nevvy,” spoke Tom Ashley gruffly. “If they spare the house now ’twill be only that they may burn it later. You can’t depend upon the word of a Tory. We will stay here as long as we can, then make a dash for the woods. Thanks to Peggy we have plenty of cartridges now.”
“Something is burning,” cried Sally suddenly, sniffing the air.
A peculiar odor came through the loopholes of the windows, and the wind whirled a puff of smoke into the room. The faces of the girls blanched, and they looked at each other fearfully. The entire party seemed benumbed for the moment, then Fairfax sprang to the door of the lean-to.
“I’m going out to them,” he announced determinedly. “You shan’t burn here like rats in a trap.”
“Don’t go, son,” screamed his mother.
And, “Don’t go, Friend Fairfax,” came from the girls. “’Tis death out there.”
“And death to all within if I stay,” he answered, opening the door resolutely. A burst of flame from the lean-to forced him torecoil, and before he could recover himself his uncle had closed the door quickly.
“You young idiot,” he growled, “stay where you are. ’Twould be a useless sacrifice. You’ll do more good by staying here, and helping to cover the retreat of the women should we have to take to the woods.”
Fairfax made no answer, but stood in a dejected attitude, his head sunk upon his breast. The stillness without was ominous. Presently jets of flame crept across the threshold of the door leading to the lean-to. The farmer uttered an exclamation almost of despair as he reached for the water bucket.
“We are all right as long as the water holds out,” he groaned, dashing the bucket’s contents on the blaze. “God help us when ’tis gone.”
“Uncle Tom,” spoke the youth imploringly, “they only want me. Let me at least make a dash for the woods. There would be a chance of escape, and ’twould draw them away from here.”
“Would they really take after Fairfax if they saw him taking to the woods?” queried Nurse Johnson abruptly.
“Of a truth, Hannah. You see they’d like to get him on account of capturing Edwards, but we won’t give him up. He’s too necessary to the country.”
“Another place is on fire, friend,” screamed Sally at this moment.
Both the youth and his uncle sprang for the blaze, beating the flames with heavy wet cloths. Under cover of the excitement Nurse Johnson threw her son’s long cloak around her, caught up his three-cornered hat, and, before they realized what she was about, had opened the rear door of the kitchen and darted out.
A shout went up from the raiders, telling that she had been seen. A few scattering shots followed, then the clarion tones of the leader rang out:
“Don’t shoot, boys. Take him alive. We’ve got him now.”
“Mother!” cried Fairfax, springing toward the door. Tom Ashley caught him in an iron grip.
“Be quiet, nevvy,” he said sternly. “Hannah’s got too much wit to be taken, and she hath saved you; and all of us, for that matter.You are too valuable to the country to be given to such wretches. Even though all the rest of us perish, you must live. Now help me put out this fire. Peggy, do you run up-stairs, and see what’s happening.”
Up the stairs darted Peggy, with Mrs. Ashley and Sally following after. Too eager to be cautious she flung back a shutter, and looked out. The night was now far spent, and in the dim gray light of early dawn Nurse Johnson’s tall figure was not unlike that of her son. The intrepid woman had cleared the open spaces of the yard, and was now under the great trees of the forest, with the raiders in full pursuit. A few moments, and hunted and hunters were swallowed up by the long dark shadows of the woods.
“Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!And over the mountains breaks the day;Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,There are deeds to be done ere we slumberto-night!And whether we fight or whether we fallBy saber-stroke or rifle ball,The hearts of the free will remember us yet,And our Country, our Country will never forget.”—Rossiter Worthington Raymond.
“Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!And over the mountains breaks the day;Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,There are deeds to be done ere we slumberto-night!And whether we fight or whether we fallBy saber-stroke or rifle ball,The hearts of the free will remember us yet,And our Country, our Country will never forget.”
—Rossiter Worthington Raymond.
It was not until morning that the farmer and his nephew succeeded in getting control of the fire. When at length it was extinguished only a few charred timbers remained of the lean-to, and the dwelling itself was badly damaged. A heap of ashes marked the spot where the barn had stood, and the scene was one of desolation. The day had come, but there was no glory in the sunshine. The dank smell of early morning rose from the dew-drenched earth, but its freshness and fragrance were marred by the overpowering odor of smoke, and wet, charred wood. Inthe countless trees of the forest the birds were singing, but their songs fell upon unheeding ears. To the inmates of the farmhouse instead of melody the pines whispered a message of menace and despair.
“And now,” spoke Fairfax Johnson, as Thomas Ashley declared that there was no further danger of fire, “now I am going to see what hath become of my mother.”
“And I’ll go with you, nevvy. You must not think me hard and unfeeling, boy, but just now, when men are so scarce, we cannot afford to lose one unnecessarily. To have gone out to those men would have been certain death for you, and your mother did the best thing that could have been done. To be a patriot demands a great deal of us. To die is a small matter, but how we die is much. Your work is not finished. Until it is, nevvy, your life is not yours to lose needlessly. It belongs to the country. Even though Hannah be captured, it would not follow that aught of harm would come to her. She is a woman. But come!”
“Peggy,” whispered Sally, “Friend Ashley reminds me of Brutus.”
“Yes,” answered Peggy gazing after Fairfax with misty eyes. “Duty to country is first, of course; but sometimes when the heart is torn with anguish over the sacrifice of a loved one it doth seem that duty asks too much of us. Oh, Sally! Sally! will peace ever come? Will the country ever be aught but torn and disrupted by warfare? I cannot bear it.”
“Don’t, Peggy,” came from Sally sharply.
Mrs. Ashley, who was moving about the fire preparing breakfast, came to them quickly. She gave each girl a gentle kiss, and a soft pat, saying:
“Now, now, ’twill not do. After being such brave, helpful girls all night, are ye going to give way now? ’Twill never do, sweetings. For the boy’s sake, ye must be brave. See! I have nice, hot coffee all ready. Run after them, and tell them that I want them to take a cup before going far.”
“And we were going to be so brave,” reminded Sally wiping her eyes.
“’Tis all my fault,” said Peggy, “but ’twas the thought of——”
“Now be quick, or they will be gone too far,” interrupted Mistress Ashley.
The two men were entering the confines of the forest when Peggy called to them:
“Mistress Ashley wishes that ye would take a cup of coffee before going, friends. She hath it already prepared.”
Fairfax shook his head.
“Mother first,” he said. “I could not take anything.”
The tears came again to Peggy’s eyes.
“Yes, yes,” she said chokingly. “Make sure of Friend Nurse’s whereabouts first. How brave she was! How——”
“Did I hear something said anent coffee, Peggy?” came Nurse Johnson’s voice, and from among the trees she came toward them. She was smiling, but her appearance was anything but cheerful. Her face was very pale, her hair was unbound and hung upon her shoulders in a tangled mass; her garments were dew drenched, and she limped painfully. With a bound her son reached her side.
“Mother! mother!” was all he could say.
“I thought ye’d get through, Hannah,” cried Thomas Ashley. “I was just telling the boy so. Mary, Mary! Hannah’s come.”
With cries and exclamations of wonder and joy they gathered about her, heaping caresses upon her until the good woman begged for mercy, declaring that she was hungry, and would have no breath left wherewith to partake of food. Then they bore her into the house, and while Sally and Peggy dressed the sprained ankle, Mrs. Ashley brought coffee, and Mr. Ashley cut great slices of ham, insisting that the occasion warranted a feast. But the son remained by her side as though he feared to leave her. They grew calm finally, and then Nurse Johnson told of her escape.
“’Tis naught to make such a pother about,” she said settling back comfortably in her chair, a cup of coffee in hand. “I knew that Tom wouldn’t be able to hold Fairfax much longer, and I wasn’t going to have those rascals get him if I could help it. Providence was on my side, for I seemed to have wings given me. I didn’t know that I could run so fast, but fear, aided by a few bullets, would develop speed in the most of us, I reckon.
“I had a little start of the Tories, though I knew that I could not keep it, when my foot caught in a vine, or root, and I fell. I triedto get up, but my ankle was sprained so I could not rise. Instead, in my efforts, I began to roll down the declivity, for the ground was slightly rolling where I had fallen, and over and over I went until presently the bottom was reached, and I came to a stop in a little hollow. Something stirred as I rolled into the thicket, and an animal, ’twas too dark to see what it was, though it seemed like a doe, or a fawn, leaped up and bounded away through the forest. I heard the men go crashing after it, and it came to me that if I did not move they might pass on, thinking that the deer was their prey. That is all there is to it. So you see I did naught after all. Save for the mishap of a sprained ankle, and a little chill, I am no worse off than ye are.”
“Oh! but the risk, Friend Nurse,” cried Peggy.
“Was no greater than to stay here. We did not know of a certainty that the men would leave the house in pursuit. It was just a chance, but it happened to work all right. Now, Tom, what shall be done? Do you think the raiders will return?”
“’Tis hard telling, Hannah. Sooner orlater they will try to get the boy again. If Edwards is hanged they will stop at nothing to effect his capture. But, Hannah, every man in the company runs the same risk. The thing to do is to have the men make headquarters here. ’Twill be of mutual benefit, for ’twill throw a safeguard about each member of the company.”
“Yes,” she agreed thoughtfully.
“And the girls?” uttered Fairfax. “What of them?”
“Until we have horses we can do naught, nevvy.”
“Then horses we are going to have,” he said with determination. “I shall start for Freehold now to see what can be done. There may be other news of the raiders, too.”
“Go with him, Tom,” cried his mother quickly. “There may be skulkers in the woods.”
But Fairfax would not hear of this.
“Nay, mother,” he said. “Uncle Tom’s place is here. You are in more danger than I am, for the raiders may come back. You had your way last night; this morning ’tis my turn.”
With this he was gone. Some hours later when he returned, astride a bay mare of great beauty, he headed quite a cavalcade. Behind him rode the little company of twelvemonth men and militia of which he was captain; back of these came two large wagons.
“What think you?” he cried waving a folded document excitedly in greeting. “The Council of Safety hath confirmed my commission as captain, and hath ordered me to take the company to Tom’s River to garrison the fort there. The salt works are threatened, and there is some contraband trade to be checked. We came to take you with us.”
“To do what, nevvy?” gasped the farmer, bewildered by the suddenness of the matter.
“To take all of you with us,” repeated the youth, dismounting. “Think you that I could go, and leave you here unprotected? You will be safe there. At least,” he corrected himself, “as safe as ’tis possible to be in Monmouth County. The garrison will afford more security than you would have here. I brought these wagons for the very purpose of taking you. There must be haste, Uncle Tom. We must be off in an hour.”
“But——” began Thomas Ashley protestingly, when his wife interrupted him.
“Why, father! that’s where Charley is. ’Tis the very thing.”
So the youth had his way, and there ensued a busy hour. The wagons were shore wagons, owned by oystermen of Tom’s River who were returning to that village after bringing fish and oysters to the interior, he told them in explanation of the odor that clung to the vehicles. It was great good fortune that they could be had just at this time. Presently, here they were, with Nurse Johnson, comfortably installed upon a feather-bed, Mrs. Ashley and the two girls in one wagon, while the farmer rode in the other to look after such household effects as they were taking.
Both because of Nurse Johnson and the sandy nature of the soil they were obliged to proceed in a leisurely manner, but the family, rejoicing in the sense of security afforded by the presence of an armed escort, minded neither the manner nor the mode of travel. With the buoyancy of youth, Peggy and Sally soon regained their accustomed spirits, and chatted gaily.
Above was the blue and white woof of the spring sky. The plaint of the meadow-lark and the note of the robin sounded sweetly against the stillness of the air. A trio of crows sailed athwart the blue, their great wings beating the air to slow, solemn measure. The pine woodland added shelter and picturesqueness to the road, and to the light breeze its sweet resinous odor. And Fairfax was here, there, everywhere, looking after things with all the zeal of a young officer.
“You are merry,” he said after a time, accommodating the speed of his horse to that of the wagon in which the girls rode. His manner had brightened perceptibly since the beginning of the journey, and he spoke lightly. “Yet I feared that you might be annoyed by the smell of fish. They are oyster wagons, you know.”
“Is it fish that we smell?” cried Sally, laughing for very joyousness, and forgetting to wonder at the unusualness of his addressing them. “Methought it was the pines.”
“Nay; ’tis fish,” he declared. “At what are you looking, Mistress Peggy?”
“I am admiring thy horse,” she replied.“’Tis a beauty. Almost as pretty as my own little mare.”
“Nay,” he protested. “Few animals are that. Star hath not many equals.”
Peggy flushed with pleasure. Praise of her little mare always delighted her.
“Thee can afford to be unstinted in thy praise when thine own mount hath so much of beauty,” she remarked.
“And what has thee named her?” questioned Sally. “It should be something charming.”
“A name hath just occurred to me that is both charming and uncommon,” he responded, meeting her glance without blushing. It was the first time that she had seen him so much at ease in ordinary intercourse, Peggy reflected marveling. “I think,” continued the youth, “that no other horse ever bore it.”
“Then it must be unusual,” declared Sally. “Thee makes me very curious, Friend Fairfax. What is it?”
“Marsal,” he answered. A twinkle came into his eyes as he added: “After Margaret and Sally: Marsal!” Saluting, he passed on to the head of the column.
There was a gasp of surprise from the maidens, then a peal of laughter followed, so mirthful that Nurse Johnson and her sister joined it.
“He hath the best of us, Peggy,” cried Sally. “But who would have dreamed that he had it in him?”
“Of a truth he hath improved markedly,” agreed Peggy. “I fear me that we shall have to change our tactics, Sally.”
“’Tis not that he hath lost his diffidence, girls, but the reaction from fear of danger to us hath rendered him light-hearted,” declared the lad’s mother. “He is so relieved that ’tis easy to jest.”
And this was the case with them all. So merrily the journey proceeded. The incubus of fear was lifted from them for the time, and a certain joyousness of expression was the natural result. It was twenty-five miles from Monmouth Court House to Tom’s River, and so slowly did they travel that it was not until the next evening that they emerged from the forest into a long stretch of cleared road at the end of which lay the thriving little town.
About a hundred yards to the east of theroad, on a slight eminence in the center of cleared ground, stood the blockhouse. It was a rude structure, unfinished, about six or seven feet high, built of logs with loopholes between them, and a number of brass swivels on the top, which was entirely open. Indeed there was no way of entering save by climbing. A short distance beyond the fort a bridge spanned the river, for the village was situated on both banks of the stream. Four miles away the tides of Barnegat Bay swelled and ebbed through Cranberry Inlet into the ocean. It was the nearness of this inlet that gave the little place its importance. It was at this time perhaps the best inlet on the coast except Little Egg Harbor, and was a favorite base of operations for American privateers on the outlook for British vessels carrying supplies to New York.
In the near vicinity of the village a gristmill, a sawmill, and salt works gave evidence of the occupations of the inhabitants; while on the river, which at this point broadened into a bay, floated the barges and boats of the fishermen, and the rafts and scows from the sawmills. The town proper consisted of abouta dozen houses beside an inn, around which the dark forest seemed to crowd and press. The place had been subjected to attack several times by the British, owing chiefly to the desirability of the inlet, and the possession of the salt works. An unusual characteristic of the town was the fact that not a Tory, nor Tory sympathizer was allowed to dwell in it; which was an exceedingly uncommon feature of any place in Monmouth County.
As the company drew near the blockhouse there came a sharp command from within, and over its walls scrambled a few men who drew up at attention, while drum and fife sounded a welcome to the new captain. A dazzling light of pleased surprise came into the young man’s eyes, and he squared his shoulders with an involuntary movement. From the village came the people to give welcome also; for the intrepidity with which the young man fulfilled his duties, his recent exploit in capturing the noted Edwards had given him a reputation, and the town rejoiced that he had been sent to take command of the post.
With blushing modesty the lad made a stammering response to the welcome, whileThomas Ashley beamed with gratification, and his mother could scarce conceal her pride. The ceremony was ended presently, and the company took formal possession of the blockhouse. The family passed on into the village.
“’Tis so interesting to be with the military,” sighed Sally ecstatically as she and Peggy were preparing for bed. They had found quarters with the family of Justice Green, old friends of Mrs. Ashley. “Just think, Peggy Owen! Thee had a whole winter of it at Middlebrook. And with the main army at that. I should think thee could never find contentment in our quiet city again.”
“Were we there, Sally, I’d never wish to leave it,” spoke Peggy so earnestly that her friend looked up in surprise.
“What is it?” she asked quickly. “Has thee the migraine, Peggy?”
“No, Sally.” Peggy was thoughtful for a moment before she explained: “These people are so grateful because the company hath come. Were there not great cause for fear they would not have so much appreciation. It looks as though they lived in dread of attack.”
“And I have been feeling so secure because the blockhouse was here,” exclaimed Sally. “Hasn’t thee?”
“I did for a time, but I am not so sure that I do now,” was Peggy’s response.
“Is not Fairfax a fine fellow?” queried Sally after a moment’s silence.
“I wonder if thee knows how often thee says that, Sally?” Peggy turned, and gazed searchingly into Sally’s face.
“I don’t say it any oftener than he deserves it, miss,” retorted Sally, brushing her hair composedly. “He is all that valor and modesty can make him. I heard Friend Pendleton say once that humility was the sweetest flower that grew in the human breast. Fairfax thinks so little of himself; yet he is so brave, and modest, and kind; and his uncle declares that he fights like a tiger.”
“Yes?” gasped Peggy, regarding her friend with amazement. “He is all that. And what then, Sally?”
Sally laughed.
“I was just thinking, Peggy mine, that some time—oh, years and years from now, after the war is over, thee knows—we girlsmight want to make some additions to the Social Select Circle in the form of—— Well, partners for life,” she ended, blushing adorably.
“And was thee thinking of annexing Fairfax?” cried Peggy in a paroxysm of merriment. “Oh, Sally, Sally! that I should live to hear thee say such things!”
“I? Oh, no! I was thinking of Betty. Thee knows that he would require some management, he is so bashful, and Betty——”
“I am not so sure, Sally.” Peggy was laughing so that she could scarcely talk, but she continued mirthfully: “Has thee not noticed that he is always equal to an emergency, and that he is cool and collected in danger? Sally, Sally! thee’d best give o’er such match-making plans.”
“Well, I do think ’twould be monstrously nice,” said Sally. “So there!”
“For Sally?” teased Peggy.
“Nonsense!” ejaculated Sally, reddening.
Many things contributed to dispel whatever of misgiving Peggy might have had. The people resumed their daily vocations, and while on every hand could be heard encomiumsupon the ardor with which the young captain discharged his duties, the presence of the company seemed no longer to be regarded as a strict essential to safety. So the maiden’s fears were lulled to rest, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the seaside life.
The bay daily beheld the arrival and departure of privateers, which sometimes brought prizes with them. There were boats from the different mills, and teams always loading at the wharves with lumber, salt, oysters and fish for the interior. Whenever there were prizes with the privateers, the town became a busy and lively place from the influx of visitors who were mostly business men from various parts of the state come to purchase captured vessels, or their cargoes.
Sometimes Fairfax joined them in their walks along the bay, for this was the favorite with the girls, and they could not but comment upon his increased manliness of bearing. He had found his position no sinecure. There were many farmers along the river who, while undeniably patriotic, saw no reason why they should not take the hard money of the British in New York in exchangefor supplies, and this contraband trade had to be kept in check. An unceasing watch was in consequence kept on the river and coasts to prevent such persons from running the blockade; the salt works had to be guarded, and a strict patrol maintained to report any advance of English or refugees.
“Thee is getting thin, Friend Fairfax,” commented Peggy one evening as the two maidens and the youth stood watching the boats on the bay. “Thee takes thy duties too seriously. Does he not, Sally?”
“Indeed he does,” agreed Sally, her blue eyes scanning the young man’s countenance with solicitude. “What hath gone amiss, friend? Something is troubling thee.”
“There is activity on Sandy Hook that denotes action of some sort by the enemy,” he answered gravely. “It hath been impossible so far to find just what the movement portends, but I fear that an attack of some kind is intended. Would that ye were at home, though I know not how to get you there.”
“And does thee fear that this is the place to be attacked?” queried Sally. “Is it the salt works?”
“Yes,” he replied. “That is one of the things that would invite assault. The works have always been a bone of contention between the two armies, and the British need of the article is pressing just at this time. Were it not that the highway from Freehold to Trenton is infested by those miscreants of the pines, I should say go with one of the shore wagons to Trenton. As it is there is naught for you to do but to stay here.”
“Where there is a garrison for protection,” spoke Peggy with more lightness than she felt.
“It is small,” he said with hesitation. “Small, and the fort unfinished. I fear me that ’twill not withstand attack, even though it should be defended with stubbornness. But I must not make you uneasy. There may be no ground for apprehension after all.”
So he spoke, and knew not that at that very moment some British and loyalists from Sandy Hook were landing at Coates’ Point, a few miles to the north of Tom’s River. Here their number was augmented by the addition of a band of refugees under the Tory, Davenport. A vidette dashed into the village withthe news at midnight. Almost instantly came the order:
“Every man to the blockhouse! The British and refugees are approaching!”