Headquarters, Philadelphia, June 16, 1778."Lieutenant-General Knyphausen and Major-General Grant will cross the river to-morrow at four o'clock in the morning with the following regiments: Yagers, mounted and dismounted, Queen's Rangers, Hessian Grenadiers, Second Battalion New Jersey Volunteers,[C]Maryland Loyalists, Volunteers of Ireland, and the Caledonian Volunteers. All wagons and carts, with the wagons and bathorses[D]belonging to the general and staff officers, are to be embarked this afternoon at half-past three, at the upper coal wharf, and to-morrow at six all the saddle horses belonging to the general and staff officers are to be embarked at the same place, except two for the commander-in-chief, and one for each of the general officers. All the sick that are absolutely unable to march are to be at Primrose's Wharf to-morrow morning at five o'clock, where they will be received on board the Active."
Headquarters, Philadelphia, June 16, 1778.
"Lieutenant-General Knyphausen and Major-General Grant will cross the river to-morrow at four o'clock in the morning with the following regiments: Yagers, mounted and dismounted, Queen's Rangers, Hessian Grenadiers, Second Battalion New Jersey Volunteers,[C]Maryland Loyalists, Volunteers of Ireland, and the Caledonian Volunteers. All wagons and carts, with the wagons and bathorses[D]belonging to the general and staff officers, are to be embarked this afternoon at half-past three, at the upper coal wharf, and to-morrow at six all the saddle horses belonging to the general and staff officers are to be embarked at the same place, except two for the commander-in-chief, and one for each of the general officers. All the sick that are absolutely unable to march are to be at Primrose's Wharf to-morrow morning at five o'clock, where they will be received on board the Active."
"I fancied we would go around by water," Enoch heard one of the men say after the order had been read; "but according to that it is evident we shall march across New Jersey."
"I believe that was Sir Henry's first intention; but fearing head winds might lengthen the passage, and that the rebel Washington would have an opportunity to capture New York, he has decided no such risks should be taken. For my part I am not unwilling to exchange this life of idleness for one of action, and hope we may see plenty of it."
"It appears quite evident your wish will be granted, for it is reported the rebels are in good condition for the summer campaign, and from the fact that they have so insolently rejected his majesty's proffers of peace I argue they are much stronger in numbers than ever before."
"However that may be, I care not; we shall soon whip out the overweening confidence in their own abilities, and before this campaign is ended I predict Congress will be suing for that which it has so promptly refused. Here comes a boat, and, if I mistake not, we shall learn considerably more of Sir Henry's intentions this evening than we already know."
The sound of footsteps on the sand told that the officers were moving toward the water's edge, and, shortly after, Enoch could distinguish the click of oars in the rowlocks.
Then came the short, quick orders of the coxswainin charge of the craft, and five minutes later a profound silence reigned.
The one thought now in Enoch's mind was, that he had learned that which it was of the utmost importance General Washington should know.
For the moment he forgot that armed men were searching for him in every direction, and that his capture was almost certain to be followed immediately by an ignominious death.
He had accomplished the mission with which he and Greene were intrusted, and it only remained to carry the information to headquarters.
With this thought came once more the realization of his utter helplessness and desperate situation.
It was possible he might remain undiscovered in his hiding-place until sunrise; but no longer, for then the laborers would resume work upon the sloop, and must unquestionably soon discover there was more in the hold than they had left there the night previous.
"It is more than my own life now that I am working for," the boy said to himself. "By repeating what I have heard General Washington will have a chance to strike a blow at the Britishers, and I shall indeed have been of service to the cause. That order is to be issued on the sixteenth, and the enemy will begin to leave on the seventeenth. There is plenty of time in which to carry the news, if I can succeed in finding Greene."
Fully alive to the importance of what he had learned, Enoch was now prepared to take greaterrisks than when it was only a question of saving his own life.
The personal danger appeared to have been lessened, and the one idea in his mind was to make known without unnecessary delay that which he had learned.
No sound broke the stillness of the night as the boy clambered up from his damp hiding-place until he could peer out through the hatchway.
The darkness shrouded everything, and as if the elements were in sympathy with his purpose, heavy clouds obscured even the light of the stars.
"I couldn't have a better chance, and if I don't get past the guards which have been set it will be because I am stupid," Enoch thought as he drew himself up to the combing of the hatchway and dropped noiselessly down on the sand beneath.
Here he stood motionless an instant to listen.
In the distance could be heard the noises of the city, but close at hand appeared to be no living thing save himself.
Following up the bank of the river to the creek, and then into Third Street, he went cautiously, ready at any moment to break into a run, or retreat as should be necessary.
To venture upon the street did not seem prudent, therefore he swam the upper end of the creek, and made his way by a zigzag course, avoiding the thoroughfares to traverse gardens and lawns, but all the while continuing on in as nearly a direct courseas was consistent with safety toward the farmhouse where he believed Greene would be found.
More than once he heard the tramp of the patrol, and at such times he doubled here and there, moving cautiously as an Indian, and on the alert for the first sounds which should proclaim he was discovered.
An hour previous it had seemed impossible to him he could escape even the ordinary number of guards; but now when he knew they had been doubled, perhaps trebled, he instinctively—almost as if by chance—avoided them, until he was beyond the city and on the road over which Greene traveled when he brought his produce into the market.
Even now he knew he was far from safe, for squads of soldiers often patrolled the country roads at a distance of four or five miles from the town at a late hour in the night, and he fully believed that on this occasion scouting parties would be sent in every direction.
Had he heard the orders given, however, he would have known that the only precaution taken to prevent his escape was to double the number of guards around the town, and that those who were searching for him believed he was yet hidden in some building near the City Tavern. Consequently a rigorous search was being instituted in that quarter, while he was lessening each moment the distance between himself and the American camp.
Even when he was so far out in the country that the lights of the city could no longer be seen, hewas afraid to travel at his utmost speed lest he should inadvertently come upon the patrol; but stopped at short intervals to listen.
Two hours passed, and during all this time he had continued steadily onward, without having heard anything to arouse his fears.
"Who would have believed I could have given them the slip so readily," he said to himself. "I thought when I jumped on board the sloop that I should only leave there as a prisoner, and perhaps if that order hadn't been read where I could hear it, I'd still be crouching in the hold waiting for the redcoats to pounce upon me. What a fool I was to so far forget myself as to brush up against that Quaker! Even if they hadn't suspected me of being a spy, I stood a chance of getting a flogging for my impudence. Yet suppose I hadn't been discovered? Then I shouldn't know the exact date set down for the evacuation of the city. Everything has happened in my favor, and—"
He ceased speaking very suddenly, for in the distance he could hear the sound of footsteps, and waiting only long enough to assure himself there had been no mistake, Enoch darted into the bushes that lined the road on either side at this point.
Then came the thought that it was nearly time for Greene to go into town, and pressing as closely to the edge of the road as was possible without showing himself, the boy waited until the pedestrian should appear.
After a short time he saw a single figure approachingwith a burden upon his back; but the night was so dark that Enoch was unable to determine whether this was the man whom he hoped to meet or some enemy.
He hesitated to make himself known until he realized that if the spy should pass him he might have difficulty in carrying his news to Valley Forge, and, regardless of possible danger, cried softly:
"Robert Greene!"
The figure halted, looked around for a moment, and then was apparently about to resume the journey when Enoch asked in a low tone:
"Is that you, Mr. Greene?"
"I know no one of that name, and if it was mine wouldn't be willing to own it to one who is afraid to show himself."
Enoch recognized the voice, and springing forward with an exclamation of joy literally hugged the vegetable-laden spy.
"Is it you, Enoch?" Greene asked in surprise. "What has happened? Have you been in danger?"
"I was discovered by a Quaker at whose house General Lafayette lodged at Barren Hill, and seized by him and a British officer in front of the City Tavern."
"But how did you escape?"
"Come with me into the bushes, for I am afraid men will be sent out on this road, since you told the patrol I was in your employ."
When the two were screened from view of any who might chance to pass, Enoch told his story inall its details, interrupted only by low chuckles of satisfaction now and then, and exclamations of pleasurable surprise when the more important portions of his adventures were related.
"You have done a good work this night, lad! A brave work, and your seeming misfortunes were the luckiest that ever befell man or boy. I was not mistaken in you, lad."
"But I haven't done anything, Mr. Greene. It was all an accident, and one that came very near costing my life."
"Never mind how it came about. The work has been done, and we can carry to Valley Forge such news as has long been waited for—news that will change the condition of affairs there very decidedly."
As he spoke Greene sprang to his feet, and seizing Enoch by the arm went hurriedly into the road.
"Are you going to leave your market-truck?" Enoch asked.
"I would willingly leave everything on Rogers' farm to the mercy of the Britishers after such word had been brought, my boy. Now step out at your liveliest pace until we can get the horses, and then it is a question of a quick ride to headquarters to announce the fact that our work has been finished in the completest manner."
"But isn't it dangerous to go ahead too boldly? There may be soldiers between here and the farm."
"I will answer for it there are none, lad, forhaven't I just traveled over this road? It is seldom they come out so far unless in goodly force."
"I thought perhaps scouts might be sent in every direction, for the two men whom I heard talking while I was in the sloop seemed very certain I'd be captured."
"They are most likely looking for you in the city yet, and a rare time they'll have of it. I would have been willing to give a good many shillings if I could have seen the old Quaker's face when you bowled him over. So he must have been the one who warned Howe of General Lafayette's advance? We'll settle matters with him after the evacuation, and there are one or two other Quakers who should be attended to, particularly he who would have made prisoners of Generals Reed and Cadwalader."
"I have never heard of him."
"Then I will tell you the story, and it isn't a bad one, seeing that it didn't turn out to our disadvantage. The two generals were reconnoitering the country, and stopped at the house of a Quaker with whom they were acquainted. I don't remember his name. After leaving him, and it may be certain he protested that he dearly loved the cause, it began to rain, and Cadwalader and Reed, fearing lest their blue cloaks should be injured by the water, turned them inside out. Now it so chanced that these same cloaks were lined with red, and as they returned past the house they had just visited, in the gloom of the evening it was not unnatural that they should have been mistaken for English officers.That is exactly the mistake the Quaker made, and he rushed out quickly, shouting: 'Gentlemen, gentlemen, if you will only turn back, you will certainly catch General Reed and General Cadwalader, who have just gone down this road.' I'll lay guineas to pence that he could have bitten his tongue when the two officers made themselves known. And what a wigging they gave him! General Reed promised that when the proper time came he would square accounts with that man of peace, and I reckon he won't forget his word. Neither shall I neglect the Quaker you tumbled over in front of the City Tavern. That was a narrow escape for you, my boy."
"I don't care to try anything of the kind again," Enoch replied grimly.
"Not unless it could result as happily as this adventure has. You made a mistake in being too eager to overhear the conversation, and by that very mistake accomplished all we wanted to know."
Greene did not cease commenting upon the events of the evening and congratulating Enoch, until they had arrived at the farmhouse where he pretended to be employed.
There horses were procured with the least possible delay, and the two set out toward Valley Forge at full speed, Enoch's heart beating rapidly with joy and exultation, as he thought that at last he would have an opportunity of speaking with General Washington, and would be a welcome visitor.
Only at such times as it was absolutely necessary did the travelers slacken their pace, and the sun had not yet risen when they were halted by the pickets of the encampment.
Greene was provided with a password which would admit him without delay, whatever the parole or the countersign might be, and after a brief pause the two spies galloped at full speed up to the rude hut where General Washington had lived during the severe winter.
"Robert Greene to see the commander-in-chief on urgent business," was the reply to the challenge of the sentries who guarded the building, and so well was the spy's name known that no hesitation was made in awakening the general.
The two were ushered into the sleeping apartment, and there, as he lay in bed, his face lighted up in anticipation of welcome news, Enoch saw the commander whom he revered.
After Greene had hurriedly given the information they had brought, the boy was made more than happy when Washington took him by the hand and said:
"You are a brave lad, Enoch Ball. You have rendered good service, and I thank you."
To be thanked by General Washington was a greater reward, in Enoch's eyes, than a commission would have been in Jacob's, and he felt that whatever the future might have in store for him he had been fully repaid for everything by these three words from such a man.
"Will it be advisable, do you think, sir, for the boy to return to Philadelphia?" Greene asked.
"Not to the town itself, while the British are in possession; but he might remain at your rendezvous to act as messenger between there and the camp, although I question if you will have any further important information to bring us, unless it should chance that the order was not issued."
"It is my desire, sir, to enlist as a soldier," Enoch said timidly.
"It would seem as if you already were one, save for the ceremony of signing your name. Remain with Greene until some decided move is made, and then it shall be my care to see that your desire is granted. In the meantime you may consider yourself as attached to my staff in order that there shall be no question about rations. Mr. Greene, you will see that the boy messes with my aids while he is in camp."
Enoch was so overwhelmed by the honor thus conferred upon him as to be hardly aware of what he did during the next few moments.
When Greene touched him on the arm to signify that the interview was at an end and they should depart, he followed like one in a dream wherever the spy led him, until the latter said, laying his hand heavily upon the boy's shoulder:
"Haven't you a word of comment, lad, upon the honor you have received? Let me tell you there are few men in the Continental army who wouldn't be bristling with pride in your place."
"It doesn't seem possible! I cannot realize that the general really meant it!Imess with his aids!"
"But it is not only messing, lad; you are attached to his staff—perhaps not in a very important position; but when it is known that because of personal services you have rendered, the commander-in-chief allows you to consider yourself one of the 'members of his family,' as the staff is termed, you will be treated with greater respect than if Congress had given you a colonel's commission."
"I know the honor is great," Enoch said slowly; "but I am almost afraid—"
"Of what?"
"That in such a position I shall do something wrong—make a fool of myself, or so behave that the general will be sorry he praised me."
"Never you fear for that, lad. A boy who can have such fears won't go far astray. Attached to the staff of General Washington, the commander-in-chief of the Continental army! Well, if that isn't an honor for a boy hardly more than sixteen years old I don't know what is! And it all came through a Tory Quaker, and the bungling of a spy in his work! Talk about chance!"
"That's just it," Enoch added hurriedly. "It was all a chance, therefore I don't deserve it."
"But I allow you do, my boy, so we won't discuss the matter. We're heading straight now for my regiment, and I intend that your friends shall hear this wonderful piece of news, even if I am forced to awaken them for the purpose of telling it."
"Why not wait until daylight?"
"Because I particularly want to see the expression on Master Ludwick's face when he learns that you have earned more than a commission."
"I am afraid Jacob will feel sore."
"Afraid? I know he will, and that's why I propose telling the news at once."
"But he is a good friend, and was never as disagreeable as since the night we carried the news to General Lafayette. Then he allowed himself to believe we were to be made officers at once, and it was disappointment that prevented him from acting as he would have done the day before."
"He could never really have had the good of the cause at heart, otherwise his father's threats would not have been necessary in order to force him to enlist. However, I will take your word for it that he is a good comrade; but at the same time I am bound he and all the members of my regiment shall know what General Washington has said to you this evening."
Enoch finally succeeded in persuading Greene that it was not necessary to arouse all the New Jersey militia in order to inform them of what had occurred, since in two hours the encampment would be astir, and then the news could be told with less inconvenience to those who might desire a full night's sleep.
"I hate to wait even five minutes, Enoch; but reckon I am bound to, if you say the word. We'll tumble into the first vacant place we find, and get a nap 'twixt now and sunrise."
This was a proposition which pleased Enoch. The journey from Philadelphia, hurried as it was, had fatigued him greatly, and he felt decidedly in need of rest.
He had hardly stretched himself out on the bed just vacated by one of the men whose turn it was to do guard duty when his eyes were closed in slumber, and it seemed to him that hardly more than a dozen minutes had elapsed before he was awakened by the hum of conversation and the trampling of many feet.
It could readily be understood that he must havebeen asleep several hours, and it was evident Greene had taken advantage of the opportunity to relate at least a portion of the previous night's incidents, for Enoch heard a man standing near by say in a tone of envy:
"When a boy like him is thanked by General Washington and allowed to consider himself a member of the staff, so to speak, it seems as if he shouldn't want much of anything more in this world. I have faced death many a time, and never received so much as a look."
"And so have thousands of others," Greene said sharply. "You, a man, have simply done a soldier's duty; the boy, not even a member of the army, has taken his life in his hands since he left this camp, with the chance of a felon's doom if he was captured, and I tell you what it is, Jim Downing, you never stood any nearer death on the field of battle than that lad did last night when he was recognized by the Quaker. If I had known of it at the time I wouldn't have given sixpence for his show."
"I ain't whinin', Bob Greene, 'cause of lack of luck. I'm willin' to admit that the boy has done great service, and hasn't been rewarded any too richly. I was just considerin' what I'd be glad to go through an' to suffer for the sake of what he's received."
"You're getting your reward, as a good many of us are, in the knowledge that you're doing all you can for the cause, and that ought to be enough, Jim."
"I allow there's some satisfaction in it; but it seems hard at times that a man has got only one life to give for such as we're fightin' to gain. If he had a dozen, an' laid 'em all down, it wouldn't be too big a price to pay for the independence of these 'ere colonies."
"Right you are, Downing, right you are! The pity is that more are not in the same way of thinking. Hello, Enoch! This chatter kind of disturbed you, I reckon."
"I have slept as long as was necessary," the boy said as he rose to his feet, looking almost ashamed because of the praise he had heard. "Where are Seth and Jacob?"
"Out on duty. If you stay where you are ten minutes more they'll be here, and in the meantime it mightn't be a bad idea for you to mosey over to headquarters for breakfast."
"I had rather not go," and now Enoch looked really disturbed. "Can't I get some rations here?"
"Of course you can, lad," Jim Downing said quickly as he laid his hand on Enoch's shoulder. "There won't be any trouble about that, and even if there was I'd gladly share mine with you. But why don't you want to go over to headquarters?"
"It would look as if I was trying to force my way in where I didn't belong."
"Not a bit of it. According to what Greene says you've not only got the right to go there, but it's the proper place."
"I can get along without any breakfast as well as not," Enoch said carelessly, as if to dismiss the subject; but Mr. Downing was not of the same mind.
"It does me good to see a modest youngster once in awhile, we have so few of 'em 'round about. I am told Jacob Ludwick was one of your cronies. Now I can't understand how you two boys hitched up together. He never will be hanged for modesty."
"But he is brave."
"And he means everybody shall know it. Why, since he come into this 'ere company he hasn't done much of anything he wasn't obliged to except tell about the ride you and he had from town up to Barren Hill. I don't throw any discredit on what you two did that night; but at the same time I ain't willin' to allow it was such a terrible bold thing. Bob Greene tells me you knocked down Williams, the Tory Quaker?"
"He tipped over when I ran against him, that was all."
"And I hope he struck the sidewalk hard enough to shake some little sense into his thick head. I always misdoubted that precious Quaker, though I can't say that he professed to think very highly of the cause. Leastways he didn't give out as doing so; but yet allowed us to believe he was on our side, and so had a chance to do a good bit of mischief. Now I'll look after your breakfast, and you shall have the best the camp affords."
"Can't I go with you? There is no reason why you should bring the food to me."
"It'll be just about as easy, and you may as well stay here so as to be on hand when your friends come."
"Jim" Downing was not the only man in the encampment who appeared eager to show some special attention to the boy whom General Washington had honored.
Every soldier Enoch met displayed particular regard for him, and but for Master Ball's innate modesty he might have been decidedly distorted by pride during this day at Valley Forge.
Seth and Jacob were not relieved from duty as soon as Greene had anticipated. Enoch's breakfast had been brought and disposed of before they entered the hut, and the warmth of their greetings told of the pleasure they felt in seeing him.
"If it hadn't been for father's keeping me here I'd have got just as fat a berth as has come to you, because we should have been together," Jacob said enviously. "It always seems to be my luck to have something like that happen while anything big is going on. When we drew lots it was Seth who won the chance to carry information to the Continentals—"
"That didn't seem like such very good luck when poor Seth was in prison as a spy, and with a chance of being hanged."
"It didn't just at that time, for a fact; but we got him out of the scrape easy enough."
"Easier, perhaps, than I should have been able to do if you had been in my place," Seth replied heartily, and it could readily be seen that this praise was gratifying to Master Ludwick.
"But luck wasn't against you when you planned and carried out so successfully the seizing of Mr. Wharton's horses," Enoch added. "All the credit of that piece of work is certainly due to you."
"Yes, and see what I got out of it! General Lafayette was much obliged, and that's all. I wasn't even allowed to do as I wanted to, but had to enlist when I could have gone with you and earned for myself a share in the commission you are likely to receive."
"But he ain't likely to receive a commission," Greene interrupted. "Nor he wouldn't take one if the commander-in-chief should be so foolish as to offer it. Enoch is a boy that has a pretty good idea of what he can do, and you'll never find him trying to get above himself."
"Meaning to say I do, eh?"
"I was only speaking for Enoch. Hark you, Jacob, you have enough of what you call 'luck,' only you don't appreciate it. What has come to Seth more than you have got? Nothing. What has come to Enoch? The honor of being fed in the commander-in-chief's mess; but when things are straightened out you'll find him drop into place as a private, with never a bit of grumbling because he ain't given a chance to take command of the army. This business of luck isn't much more nor less thanthe way you look at a thing. Try your best to do whatever comes to hand, and you'll find that the average share of luck will follow."
After the first surprise was over Jacob behaved in a more manly fashion than Greene had anticipated, and nothing occurred to mar the pleasure of one of the most satisfactory days Enoch had ever spent.
He was forced many times to repeat the story of his adventure in the city, after having been recognized by the Quaker, for officers as well as men were eager to learn the details, and even this was not displeasing to Master Ludwick, since it naturally led up to the recounting of the previous events in which all three of the boys, in turn, played a prominent part.
Then came the hour for departure.
Greene, who was closeted for some time with General Dickinson, had received orders for certain work to be done prior to the day set for the evacuation, and this required that Enoch should continue his duties as a spy.
Shortly after nightfall the two set out, accompanied as far as the outposts by Seth and Jacob, and when they were finally free from the camp, riding at a leisurely pace, Enoch asked:
"What am I to do now, Mr. Greene?"
"Hang around the farm, ready to bring any news which I may gather. From now out the command is that I spend a good portion of my time in town, for you see, lad, it isn't certain but thatthe order you heard read may be changed, and the evacuation will take place earlier or later. But seein's how we've had information ahead of even Clinton's own officers, we're bound to hold the advantage by making certain we keep posted in all that's being done."
"Am I to go to the city?"
"Not before the morning of the seventeenth, if it so be Clinton sticks to the plan according to the programme you heard. Then you shall have a chance to see the Britishers march out, for once they begin to move our work will be done in this section of the country."
When the two arrived at the farmhouse Enoch was given a bed in the attic, with orders to remain closely under cover during the daytime, and to be ready for a trip to Valley Forge at a moment's notice.
Then the spy left him, and although he watched hourly for Greene's return, anticipating with no slight degree of pleasure a visit to Valley Forge, he was disappointed.
The days passed slowly, and as each went by Enoch grew more and more distressed in mind, for it seemed certain Greene must have been captured, otherwise he would have returned even though he he had learned nothing new.
Shortly before midnight of the sixteenth the spy made his appearance once more, and looking none the worse for his long absence.
"No, I wasn't caught, nor in any danger whatever,"he said in reply to Enoch's eager questions. "As a matter of fact I have been living in clover since I saw you last, for I took up my quarters in your mother's house, and she feasted me on the fat of the land. Your mother is a great cook, Enoch!"
"But what made you stay away so long? I thought I was to carry to Valley Forge what you learned?"
"And so you would if I had learned anything, lad. But bless you, there's nothing new going on."
"What? Have the Britishers given up the idea of evacuating the city?"
"No, indeed. I meant there was nothing more happening in town than we knew when last at Valley Forge. All I could gather was to the same effect as that which you discovered so oddly, and there surely was no necessity of repeating that to General Washington, therefore I remained quiet, as safe in the city as if I had been a Tory of the rankest kind. The order you heard read was issued this morning, and, as nearly as I could learn, not changed in any respect. It is evident Clinton anticipates some trouble from camp followers, seeing so many of his men have taken wives since they came to Philadelphia, and there's a host of women in that town tonight ready to scratch out the Britisher's eyes, for he has issued orders regarding them which are not at all pleasing. The first appeared this morning, and I reckon wasn't intended for the public; it read something like this: 'If any regiment has more women than is allowed, the commanding officer isdesired to send them down to the ships, if he can possibly get an opportunity; if not, they are to march with the army, and, by way of punishment, will be allowed no provisions.' Trust to a woman for finding out what it ain't intended she should know! Some of these Tory girls, thinking they had a rich prize when they married redcoats, heard of it, and in certain quarters of the city there was a deal of harsh language. Then came the second order, which was posted in the barracks where every one could see it: 'All women of each regiment will march at the head of it under an escort of the non-commissioned officers and six men, who will take care they do not go out of the road on any account, and the provost marshal has received positive orders to drum out any woman who shall disobey this order.'"
"Then the city is to be really evacuated?"
"Yes, lad; the word is for the last of the Britishers to cross the river at Gloucester Point at daylight on the morning of the seventeenth. I allow it's time for you to come into town, if you want to see what's going on, for they will pay no attention to you from this out. Your mother is expecting us there 'twixt now and sunrise."
"Did you tell her what General Washington said to me?"
"I did, lad, and if there's a prouder woman in Pennsylvania than she I don't know where to find her. Unless you've got some reason for not going at once we'll leave now, because I'm not countingon missing any part of the show, and allow you're quite as eager to see it as I am."
Enoch would have been pleased to leave the farmhouse even though he had had no anticipation of such a spectacle as must of necessity be presented when the English troops filed out of the city they had so long occupied, and no delay was made by Greene in retracing his steps.
Although it was not expected the enemy would take any very great precautions to prevent undesirable visitors on this the eve of the evacuation, Greene did not think it quite prudent to attempt to ride into town, therefore set out on foot.
"It will be the last time we shall have to sneak into Philadelphia, lad," the spy said exultantly when they were on the road. "I don't allow that from this out the enemy will ever again have possession of the town, for what we've got now we'll hold."
Enoch was too greatly excited to carry on any conversation just at this moment.
It seemed to him as if he had been absent from home an exceedingly long time, and he was not only eager to see his mother, but to tell her of the praise he had won from the "only man in all the country" to him.
Greene, however, was inclined to be garrulous. He told stories of his army life; related incidents regarding this officer or that, and, finding he was not attracting his companion's attention, changed the subject abruptly by saying:
"And now, lad, it can't be many days beforewe'll have a pitched battle, and I hope to see you in it on General Washington's staff, rather than as a private."
"But that would be ridiculous, Mr. Greene. What could I do in such a position?"
"Very little, lad, I'll admit; but still I'm hoping to see you there for the honor of it, and I shall be claiming my share since you are my subordinate."
Although Enoch did not believe such an event probable, he could not prevent himself from speculating upon the possibility, and very pleasant to him were these speculations.
The journey from the farmhouse to the city was not accomplished in as short a time as usual; perhaps because Greene was weary with much walking, and not until nearly an hour after sunrise did they arrive within sight of Philadelphia.
Then Greene threw his hat high in the air, dancing and capering like a crazy man, for, dotting the surface of the Delaware thickly, could be seen boats carrying the troops named in the first general order, and the evacuation had begun.
"I want to do my crowing now," the spy said in explanation of his conduct, "for we shall be forced to wear long faces when we come into town. There are Britishers enough left behind to put us in the pillory and seam our backs with their whips of wire as a pleasant diversion in case we make ourselves too conspicuous. I don't allow there's any danger of being overhauled by the patrol if we exercise ordinary caution, and I surely shan't take any risks.We'll skirt around to the right, and slip in to Letitia Street as quietly and modestly as the Tories will behave from this time out."
"Wait a few moments. Let us enjoy this sight while we can, Mr. Greene," and Enoch gazed intently at the retreating forces.
"To-morrow there will be a brave spectacle, lad, when the last boatload of redcoats has pushed off, and we can stand on the bank and cheer and hoot to our heart's content without fear of being clapped into a guardhouse. It's when every mother's son of 'em leaves Pennsylvania soil that the city will be a comfortable abiding place."
Enoch was not willing to forego the pleasure of seeing that which was already spread out before him, although there was promise of a much finer spectacle, and he remained silent and motionless ten minutes or more, until his companion said impatiently:
"I am sorry to interrupt you, lad, especially when you are looking on such a scene; but it must be done. We should not lose any more time."
"But surely you don't expect there will be work to do now the Britishers have really begun to go?"
"I don't expect it, lad; but yet at the same time something of importance might happen, and I must be where I can hear all the news."
Enoch could not well linger after this, and turning irresolutely, as if it cost him some effort to shut out such a view, he followed the spy.
By making a wide detour they entered the townfrom the rear, and walked through the almost deserted streets without molestation.
Every person able to be abroad on that morning, whether patriot or Tory, was assembled on the river bank to witness the departure of the troops, and even General Washington himself might have walked through a goodly portion of the city at that time without attracting attention.
The meeting between Enoch and his mother was, as may be fancied, particularly affectionate, and while each was clasped in the other's embrace Greene left the house.
During an hour or more Enoch told in detail all his adventures, and then, when that subject was exhausted, began to wonder why Greene did not return.
Not until night had come did the spy enter the house, and then it was to greet his young comrade with a hearty hand-clasp, as he said:
"There will be no hitch in the programme, lad. At daybreak to-morrow the last redcoat will go. This evening such of the troops as remain were drawn up into line, and without warning marched down the river a mile or more, where they are bivouacked on the shore."
"Why was that done?" Enoch asked quickly.
"It is what we must thank Clinton for, and I allow it's the only thing we have to be grateful about, so far as he is concerned. The soldiers, knowing they were to leave in the morning, might, as has been done in other cases, run wild over thecity and do much damage. Anything of that kind has been prevented. Then again, the British commander isn't so certain he'll be followed by all his men, for it's said that desertions have been great since morning; but taking them unawares as he did, he has been able to partially check the defection."
"You haven't learned anything new?"
"No, lad, nothing of importance. When the last boatload has left the shore I shall make for Valley Forge at full speed, although there's little need of doing so, since General Washington understands that the order you heard read is being carried out, unless one of us should report to the contrary in the meanwhile. What do you say for a walk about town?"
"Is it safe?"
"Safe, lad? Why, there are no soldiers in the city, although a good many of the officers have not left their quarters yet, and I guarantee that the Tories will keep their heads under cover mighty snug from this out."
Enoch would have accepted the invitation but that he saw his mother was disturbed at the idea of his doing what seemed venturesome.
"I will wait until morning, Mr. Greene, and then we'll post ourselves somewhere near the Middle Ferry, where we shall see the ending of it all."
"Very well, lad, as you please. Perhaps itisfoolish for you to venture too much, seeing that the Britishers have still got the upper hand of us here,and might pay off an old score or two on your back. If I am not at the house sooner, I'll call before daylight, and then we'll enjoy ourselves as hasn't been possible since General Howe took possession of this town."
This night in Philadelphia, when the British, after having long held possession of the city, had so far progressed in the evacuation that only the officers were yet in town, was both a happy and an anxious one to the inhabitants.
Those people who had remained true to the American cause rejoiced that their friends would soon be in possession of the chosen capital of the country, and were looking forward eagerly to the morrow when the Continental forces should enter to take possession of their own once more.
Hundreds of patriots confined in the prisons for no other crime than that of loyalty to their country were waiting eagerly for the morning when their cell-doors would be unlocked by friends, and they free at last to render aid to that cause so near their hearts.
In the homes of the Tories all wore an anxious look; they had spent a winter of gayety, while the representatives of the king held the city, and probably fancied the spirit of freedom would be so thoroughly crushed that Philadelphia would always be loyal to the English government.
Now they knew that everything was to be changed, and, as in many instances, having oppressed their neighbors who favored the struggle for independence, feared that reprisals would be demanded. Hundreds of Tories—delicately nurtured women, men accustomed to every luxury, and children whose every desire had been gratified—were about to follow the army on its march across New Jersey, or, as their means and the possibility would permit, intended to travel by various conveyance to New York.
These last were particularly sad because of the severing of all home ties for an indefinite period—perhaps forever—and to those who were anxious, as well as to those who were happy, slumber did not come on this night.
The happiness and the grief were too great to permit of the unconsciousness of sleep.
In Mrs. Ball's home, mother and son, reviewing again and again the events with which the boy had been intimately connected, put off the time for retiring yet a little longer at each stroke of the clock, until Enoch finally said:
"It's no use, mother, I can't go to bed. I shouldn't sleep if I tried, and on this night of all others it seems as if we might keep watch."
"For what purpose, my son?"
"I don't know. It appears to be a fact that the city will be entirely evacuated by the enemy in the morning, and yet I can't prevent fears that something may happen to change General Clinton's plans.At all events, Greene will be here at least an hour before daylight, and it is now nearly midnight, therefore why should we make any attempt at sleeping?"
A knock at the door, loud, quick, and, if such could be, one might almost say joyous, and Enoch answered it without hesitation, for he fancied he knew who would demand admittance in such a fashion.
"Not in bed yet, good people?" and Greene seated himself near the window.
"Enoch was just saying he could not sleep, and proposed that we sit up until morning."
"I venture to say there will be no slumber in nineteen houses out of every twenty in the city this night, and yet we who love the cause should be able to sleep now, if ever."
"You do not appear to be doing much in that line," Enoch suggested with a smile.
"Well, no, I am feeling too good just now to want to surrender consciousness, even for the sake of a rest. Such an experience as this doesn't come more than once in a person's lifetime, and he shouldn't lose any of the pleasurable sensations. I'll join your vigil as if it was New Year's eve, and we'll watch the British out and the Americans in."
Until the time the spy had set to go to the river bank, the three talked of the disappointments in the past and the hopes for the future, and then Greene and Enoch left the house.
There were more signs of life on the street, evenat this early hour, than when they had entered the city the day previous.
The citizens who had been faithful to the cause during this long occupation by the enemy were now coming out in full force to witness his departure, and a happy, joyous throng it was.
"Will General Washington come to-day?" Enoch asked of his companion.
"No; General Arnold will take possession of the city with a small force. We shan't see the commander-in-chief in town until something decisive has been done, according to my way of thinking," answered Greene.
"How long are we to stay here?"
"I shall start for Valley Forge when the last boatload of soldiers puts out from the shore. You will stay until word comes from General Dickinson."
"Do you intend to walk to the farm?"
"No; I shall have no trouble in borrowing a horse now that our friends are not afraid of getting into trouble by doing such a service. Here is a good place for us to witness the scene, and on this rising ground the view cannot be shut off from us, however many may be around."
Greene had halted on the slight elevation of ground a short distance from the Middle Ferry, and already could be seen in the stream boatloads of soldiers putting out from the Philadelphia side of the river, while from each of the landing-places the refugees—men, women and children—were embarkingsuch portable effects as they would be permitted to carry on board the vessels lying at anchor.
The sun had not yet risen; but the adherents of King George were hastening to depart from the soil of Pennsylvania, greatly to the delight of those who had been so long oppressed.
Enoch had no desire to talk, and hardly heard what Greene said as he made several attempts to enter into conversation. The boy's eyes were fixed upon the panorama before him, and he thought of nothing save the fact that the city was being freed from the enemy.
Until half-past nine he remained thus absorbed in the view, and then a mighty shout went up from the assembled throng—a shout which was echoed and re-echoed from one end of the city to the other.
The last boatload, among which was General Knyphausen, had pushed off from the shore.
"It is done at last!" Enoch cried, seizing Greene by both hands.
"It is indeed, my boy, and we have been permitted to see it all! It is such a sight as we'll hope never will be repeated on the Delaware River. Now I must be off. You will either see me or receive some word within the next twenty-four hours. Be ready to leave home without delay when the summons comes, for I should be sadly disappointed if we had a brush with Clinton's men and you were not in it."
"So should I. Don't forget me when you are with the army."
"Never fear anything like that. It wouldn't be possible while I was where Seth and Jacob could see me. But come, I'm going very near Drinker's Alley. Walk so far with me; step in for a moment and see if Mrs. Graydon has any message to send her son, for you will meet him shortly, and then, after General Arnold and his men arrive, go home and wait for me or my message."
Enoch had not broken his fast, but was hardly aware that he needed food, so great was his joy.
He acted upon Greene's suggestion, and ten minutes later saw the spy ride out of the city at full speed, bound first for the farmhouse, where he would exchange his horse for a fresh one, and then to Valley Forge with the glad tidings.
On this occasion Enoch did not skulk around to the rear of the house when visiting Mrs. Graydon; but walked boldly to the front door, where he knocked with an air of one who is free to do as he chooses, startling Seth's mother not a little, when, his summons being answered by her servant, he rushed in upon her with the cry:
"The city is evacuated! The British are gone, and we shall never see them here again unless they come as prisoners!"
"Has the army left the city?" Mrs. Graydon asked as if in surprise.
"Why, yes; didn't you know they were going?"
"Certainly, I knew the evacuation was for to-day; but it can't be they have really gone?"
"Indeed they have! Greene and I watched thelast boatload put off from this side. There isn't a single redcoat in town, and before noon General Arnold will be here with a portion of the Continental army. Our own flag is floating over the city once more!"
Mrs. Graydon looked so thoroughly perplexed that just for a moment Enoch asked himself if it could be possible she was in sympathy with the enemy, and she, noting the look of perplexity on his face, said with a smile:
"You are wondering why I don't rejoice in the good news you have brought, Enoch; but the truth is that I fear there must be some mistake about it, for Lord Gordon hasn't yet come downstairs."
"Lord Gordon still here!" Enoch cried, now in turn becoming perplexed.
"Certainly. He very seldom rises early, and last night gave no orders to be called. I supposed that the army wouldn't go away before afternoon."
"But they have gone, and it isn't likely they are to remain at Gloucester Point any longer than is necessary. Why, Mrs. Graydon, if Lord Gordon is here an hour from now he will be made prisoner by our troops, and after all he has done for us that would seem like a terrible misfortune."
"Indeed it would, Enoch."
"I am going to waken him regardless of whether he left any orders or not; but what bothers me is, how we can get him over to the Jersey side, for the English took possession of all the boats on the river-front,and I don't think there's a single craft to be found."
"Even though you waken him before our people come I fear for his safety, Enoch. The British have so oppressed those who were faithful to the cause that if it is known a member of their army is left behind something serious may be done."
"It is no use to stand here talking. He must get out of town, and that mighty quick! Where's his room?"
"The one directly over this."
Enoch did not hesitate; darting upstairs at full speed he burst into the chamber without ceremony, and Lord Cosmo Gordon, springing up in bed, his eyes heavy with slumber, demanded sharply:
"Who are you, sir? What do you want here?"
"I am only Enoch Ball, Lord Gordon. You remember me? You remember when Jacob Ludwick and I talked with you about Seth?"
"Oh, it is you, is it?" the officer said as he sank back upon the pillows. "You appear to be an energetic lad; but I can't say I have any great admiration for your manners."
"But, Lord Gordon, do you know that the Britishers have left the city, and that in a very short time our forces will be here?"
"The army gone?" and Lord Gordon sprang out of bed very suddenly. "Why, what time is it?"
"Past ten o'clock."
"And I have been allowed to sleep while mycommand has gone over! This promises to be serious, my boy!"
"Serious, sir? I should say it was! After all that has happened I would rather a good bit of ill-fortune came to me than that you should be taken prisoner."
"I should die of mortification if it was known that I, a British officer, lay in bed while my troops marched out of town and left me to be captured. Lad, you believe I did you a service once?"
"Indeed you did, sir, and one I can never repay."
"You can repay it now, and with interest," Lord Gordon said as he began hurriedly to dress. "I must cross the river at once, and depend upon you to get me a boat."
"That is more easily said than done, sir. Your army has taken possession of every craft on this side; but I'll get one if I have to swim for it. What troubles me is that I may not succeed in time."
"The American forces are near the city?"
"Greene said General Arnold would arrive before noon."
"I'll go with you. We'll both search for a boat. Where is my servant?"
"I don't know, sir, unless he's with the army."
"That can't be, my boy. He wouldn't have left me, for—Oh, here you are, Richard," the officer added as a sleepy-looking man entered the chamber. "You neglected to awaken me, and I am in a most serious predicament."
"You gave no orders, my lord."
"You should have had wit enough to know that I intended to march with the army."
"But I have just wakened, my lord."
"And you don't have the appearance of one who has fully accomplished that yet. Get my things together as quickly as possible, and go down to the river. We shall start from the Middle Ferry."
"But, Lord Gordon, if you set out alone it must be from some place less public than that," Enoch said decidedly. "Remember that our people are freed from restraint now, and the temptation of having a British officer in their power might be so great that, if they didn't do real harm, they would at least prevent your leaving."
"You are right, my lad. I'll grant that you have a better head than I in this matter, and follow your directions."
"Then will you please stay here till I come back?"
"Yes, unless you are gone too long."
"But you must stay, no matter how long I am gone. I promise faithfully you shall be set across the river some time to-day, or night, if you will remain out of sight; but once you are seen I am afraid the work cannot be done."
"Do as you will, my lad. I agree to follow your instructions. If you succeed in your purpose you will repay me tenfold for the slight favor I did your friend."
"I only hope I shall come somewhere near squaring matters; but in one case a life was saved, andin this it is only a question of your avoiding imprisonment."
"To be made a prisoner under these circumstances would be worse than death. Go, my lad, go quickly!"
Enoch ran downstairs, and stopped with his hand on the latch of the door to say to Mrs. Graydon:
"Won't you please keep the house locked, and make some excuse for not letting anybody in? The time has come when we can repay Lord Gordon for the assistance he rendered Seth, and you must do your share by keeping him out of sight."
"No person shall enter without first battering down the door," Mrs. Graydon replied with an air of determination, and Enoch darted out of the house, running up the alley at full speed.
Half an hour later he returned, breathless, but triumphant.
Lord Gordon, looking desperately anxious, met him at the door.
"I've got a skiff," he said as soon as it was possible for him to speak. "She's in the creek below Third Street. I can take you there without the chance of meeting many people; but we shall be obliged to walk fast, and you must pay no attention to whatever may be said."
"Don't fear I'll do anything to prevent the success of your efforts, my boy. My rejoining the army at the earliest possible moment is such a vital matter that nothing short of force would delay me."
The servant was summoned, and came down thestaircase as if still partially under the influence of sleep, laden with baggage.
"Look alive, man, can't you?" Enoch cried angrily as he took a portion of the burden from the fellow. "If nothing else will waken you, remember that your life is absolutely in danger from the time we leave this house until we are well out in the river."
These words had the desired effect, and the three, each carrying a portion of the luggage, left the house.
Enoch chose a most circuitous route, and although his lordship was jeered at many times during the short journey, nothing occurred to cause delay.
"She isn't a very fine craft," Enoch said when they reached the bank of the creek and he pulled out from the landing-stage a flat-bottomed boat; "but she'll take you over to the Jersey side, and I reckon that's all you want."
"Those who will show themselves to be such idiots as I have should be forced to swim for it," Lord Gordon said grimly, "and the situation now, compared with what it was half an hour ago, seems so bright that I wouldn't exchange your punt for one of the swiftest galleys of the fleet, except that I might arrive at the opposite shore more quickly."
There was only one pair of oars, and seating himself amidships, with Richard in the bow and Lord Gordon in the stern, Enoch plied these vigorously, as indeed was necessary in order to stem the flood-tide, which was now setting in strongly.
Nearly an hour was required in which to make the passage, and more than once did the officer insist he should be allowed to do a portion of the work; but Enoch would accept of no assistance.
"I should be only too glad to row you twenty miles, and all that distance against the tide, Lord Gordon, for then when I saw Seth I could say to him that we had been able to be of some service."
"You do not fully realize, my boy, how much assistance you have rendered me. I am under the deepest obligations, and that which I did in your service seems as nothing compared with this, for you have saved my honor. It is not my intention to offend you by offering payment; but I should be under yet greater obligations if you will allow me to give you some souvenir of this morning's work."
"You mean you want to make me a present?"
"Yes, Enoch, I want to leave with you something that you will remember me by—something which when you look at it you can say 'This was given me by a man to whom I rendered a greater service than if I had saved his life.'"
"I will take it, sir, and when I look at it will say to myself that it was given me by a gentleman who saved the life of my friend."
"Very neatly turned, my lad. You have a power of flattery which would win your way in a court."
"I wish I had the power that would win me my way in the Continental army."
"Are you intending to enlist?"
"Yes, sir. I do not want to say it boastingly;but yet I am proud because the little which I did last week caused General Washington himself to thank me, and to say that I should attach myself to his staff until I was really made a soldier."
"Indeed, my lad? You must have rendered some signal service. Since you no longer fear me as an enemy, for I am not formidable now that I am the only member of the English army this side of New Jersey, perhaps you will tell me what you did which won for you so great an honor."
Enoch, passing lightly over the incidents in which he figured prominently, told the story of his having been recognized by the Quaker and of subsequently hearing Clinton's order read.
Lord Gordon laughed heartily at the boy's account of his freeing himself from the Quaker's grasp; but grew grave as the story was finished.
"With such boys as you, Enoch, to recruit the American army, it is little wonder that we fail to whip you into submission. I am glad to know you, my lad, and would say the same even if you had not rendered me so great a service. I venture to predict you will win your way in the army, for surely no boy ever made a better beginning. I hope we shan't meet on the battlefield; but if we do of course each must strive for the mastery, and I am confident you will do your best to overcome me. Here is what I want you to accept," and Lord Gordon unfastened from his watch a heavy chain.
"That is far too valuable, sir. I had rather have something more trifling."
"And I prefer to give this. Don't refuse to take it, Enoch, for you will be doing me another favor by wearing it."
It was necessary Enoch should cease rowing sufficiently long to put the costly gift in his pocket, and then he bent himself sturdily to the oars once more, remaining silent several moments before he said:
"I thank you, Lord Gordon, for the chain; but I thank you more for your kind words. If all the Britishers had been like you I don't think this war would have lasted so long."
"And if all the Americans had been as generous-hearted and brave as you, Enoch Ball, your independence would have been gained immediately after it was declared."
Then the boat's bow grated on the sand of the Jersey shore.
His lordship's servant gathered up the belongings and proceeded with all haste toward the moving column which could be seen in the distance, and Lord Gordon, pressing Enoch's hand, said solemnly:
"May God love and guard you, my boy!"[E]