WITH THE REDCOATS
Thefear in Tom Coward's heart, when he discovered that he was between the lines of the soldiers, made him almost desperate. The men before him already had raised their guns, and at any moment he expected to hear their report. When he had glanced behind him he had seen that the men there were also prepared to shoot, and he was in a position where he was likely to receive the discharges of both sides.
Along by the side of the road was a deep ditch, which had been worn by the spring floods. Just at present there was no water in it, and Tom instantly threw himself upon the ground, and, still grasping his gun, rolled toward the place. As he slipped over the side he heard the discharge of the guns, and his heart almost stood still in his terror. The bullets, however, had all gone over his head, and the lad was unharmed, although he was so frightened that even the thoughts of hisown personal safety were almost driven from his mind.
Shouts and calls followed the discharge of the guns, and then there was a rush of men past the place in which he was lying. From the direction from which the men had come, Tom concluded that those who were behind him had fled, and that the others were in swift pursuit of them. He did not dare to raise his head, nor try to obtain a glimpse of the combatants, but lay still in his hiding-place, hoping that in the excitement his presence would not be discovered. The shouts continued, but as they sounded farther and farther away, the trembling lad concluded that pursuers and pursued must have turned the bend in the road. If they kept on, he would soon be able to crawl forth from the ditch, he thought, and in the woods would find some place in which he might remain until all the immediate danger had passed.
Still, he did not yet dare to leave his hiding-place, and, as the moments passed, his own fears and anxiety were not allayed. His face and hands were covered with the mud which had clung to them when he had slid into the ditch. The mosquitoes gathered about him, and, do what he would, he couldnot drive off the tormenting little pests. The sultriness which had followed the brief storm was almost unbearable, and Tom felt as if he could not have selected a worse place in which to conceal himself. There had not been much of any "selecting" about it, he grimly thought, for he had crawled into the first shelter that presented itself. A place in the muddy ditch was to be preferred to one in the middle of the road, and between two contending bands of soldiers. Here the bullets were not likely to find him, at least for the present, and his only hope depended upon the possibility of his presence not having been heeded. Perhaps the soldiers in either band had been so intent upon watching what the others would do, that a frightened lad between their lines would not be discovered.
This hope was not strong enough to induce him to leave his shelter, and he decided to remain in the ditch until he was satisfied that all danger was past. The moments dragged on, and the silence which had followed the brief contest was unbroken. The heat was becoming more and more intense, and Tom felt that he could not remain much longer in his present position. Still, he waited and listened, but the sound of thecawing crows was all that he could hear. He counted off the minutes, and when what he judged must be an hour had passed, he concluded to remain there no longer. The men had not been heard in all that time, and doubtless must have disappeared from the immediate vicinity.
The sight of the men had shown Tom that he was nearer the army than he had supposed. For a moment the thought of his former eager desire to join it came into his mind, and when he contrasted his feelings then with those he now had, his present position seemed almost ludicrous. Bespattered with mud, hiding in a ditch by the roadside, in constant fear of the return of the men, he certainly did not present the appearance of a very brave young soldier. Even Tom smiled as he thought of all this, but he was wiser than he had been a few days before this time, and the sound of guns was not exactly like that of which he had dreamed.
Tom Coward was not lacking in bravery, however, but the position in which he had found himself certainly was a trying one, and perhaps the boldest of us might have done no better had we been caught in his predicament.
The time had now come, he thought, when it must be safe for him to venture out upon the road again, and, grasping his gun, he prepared to climb out of the ditch, when he suddenly paused as he thought he heard the sound of voices once more.
Yes, there could be no mistake about it; the men were approaching from the direction in which both bands had disappeared.
He crouched lower and waited for them to pass. If they were foes, it certainly would be wiser, as well as safer, for him not to attract their attention; and if they were friends he was hardly in a condition to present himself before them.
The men were coming nearer, and were almost opposite his hiding-place now. The lad's excitement returned, and he leaned harder against the muddy bank. It seemed to him as if the loud beatings of his heart would betray him.
The band had halted, and were within a few feet of the ditch. What could it mean? Had his hiding-place been discovered? He crouched still lower, and did not once look up. He clutched his gun in his hands as if he thought he could lean upon that. The suspense was intense, and almost unbearable.
"Hello! Here's some one in the ditch!"
Tom's heart sank, and, as he glanced hastily upward, he saw a redcoated soldier peering down at him. The end had come, and all his efforts to conceal himself had been in vain.
"The fellow's alive," exclaimed the soldier in surprise. "Come up out of that and give an account of yourself!"
Tom obeyed, and, crawling up the bank, stood facing the men. There were thirty-five or forty of them, and, as he saw that they were clad in the British uniform, he realized that he was in the presence of the enemy. The suspense, at least, was ended now, and, as he glanced at the soldiers, in spite of the fact that he was well aware of his danger, much of his alarm had disappeared, for Tom Coward was not unlike others in being stronger to face the actual condition than the uncertainty which is connected with the approach of perils.
The men glanced curiously at him a moment and then burst into a loud laugh. The troubled boy at first could not discover the cause of their merriment, but as he glanced at his hands and saw that they were covered with the mud which was not yet dry, herealized that doubtless his face and clothing were in the same condition. And Tom's appearance was not very prepossessing at that moment. His hat was gone, his face was so completely covered with mud that any one would have had difficulty in deciding whether he was white or black, and his bearing was far from being bold.
The laughter of the men continued until an officer approached and said, "Who are you? What were you hiding for?"
Tom hesitated a moment, and then replied, "I was trying to keep out of the way of your bullets."
Again the soldiers laughed, and the officer said, "You didn't differ very much from the other fellows in the band, although they took to the woods and you to the ditch."
"What band?"
"Why, those men of Dickinson's we've just driven away. You don't mean to say that you didn't belong to them?"
"I didn't belong to any band," said Tom slowly. "I was just coming across the country, and when I stepped out into the road I found I was right between you and the other fellows. I crawled into the ditch, for I was afraid that both of you would hit me."
"Quite right, my lad, quite right. But how does it happen that you carry a rifle? The most of the Yankees are glad enough to get muskets, and here you are traveling round the country with a rifle. I'm afraid your story won't do, my lad. We'll have to take you along with us, and let you tell your story to the colonel."
Tom perceived that any further protest on his part would be useless, and, as the word to advance was at once given, he obediently took his place in the ranks and marched on with the men.
The heat was so intense that they were compelled to halt frequently for rests. A few of the men evidently were Hessians, and their high jack-boots, their heavy fur hats, as well as the short broadswords they carried, in addition to the short guns or carbines which were slung over their shoulders, seemed sadly out of place under the burning heat of the summer day. Tom did not know how the British officers had protested against the customs of their allies, so unsuitable in the country in which they were fighting; but the men from Hesse were obstinate, and, firmly believing that the equipment which had been good enough for them in the old countrywould certainly be good enough in the new, clung to the uncomfortable garments and unwieldy arms, unmindful alike of the jeers of their comrades in arms and the danger they incurred by the use of them.
In the course of two hours the band arrived at a little camp in command of a man whom the leader addressed as Colonel Simcoe. Tom was at once summoned by him and taken into the presence of the colonel, or lieutenant-colonel, as he then really was.
"What have you here?" inquired the colonel, glancing at Tom as he spoke.
"We picked this fellow out of a ditch back here. We had a little brush with a band of Dickinson's men, but they didn't wait for us. We chased them a mile or two up the road; but the day was so warm, and as the rebels took to the woods, we soon gave it up and came back. We found this fellow on our return. He claims he doesn't belong to the rebels; but as we found that he carried a rifle, we thought best to bring him into camp with us. We didn't know but he might be able to give you some of the information you wanted just now."
"You did right, lieutenant. I'll talk with him later. Now tell me what you learned.Did you hear anything more about Washington? How are the roads and the bridges?"
"The rebels have been tearing up the bridges, and Dickinson has a good many of the militia scattered along in the woods. I rather suspect they are planning to serve us as the countrymen served Lord Percy up at Lexington."
"I fancy we shall be able to put a stop to that, though your report is much like that which I have found out myself. Did you hear anything more of Washington?"
"I couldn't get a word out of anybody. I don't believe he's moved from the position he held yesterday, though."
For several minutes the men conversed, and when at last the younger officer departed, Colonel Simcoe turned to Tom and said, "Now, my lad, I'll listen to your story."
"I haven't any story," replied Tom. "I was coming through the woods back here, and when I stepped out into the road I found myself right between the two bands, and as I was afraid I'd be caught by the fire of both of them, I crawled into the ditch to be out of the way. That's why I'm covered with this dirt," he added apologetically.
"You don't need any one to confirm yourwords as to that," said the colonel, smiling slightly, as he spoke, at Tom's appearance. "Now what I want to know is who you are and what you were doing with a rifle? Few people here carry rifles, I find."
Tom hesitated a moment, not knowing just what to say in reply to the question. The colonel was watching him intently, and the lad felt that he must say something. "I live back here," he said at last. "I've lived in Old Monmouth all my life. I'd started out from home to go to—to—to some of my friends, and, as I told you, I got caught between the lines."
"How about the rifle?"
"My father had the other guns and I had to take that. The last thing he told me was to take a gun and scare the blackbirds and crows from the ten-acre lot."
"Is your father a loyalist?"
"Yes."
"That's good; and now if you can answer my questions, perhaps I'll be inclined to let you go. You say you've lived here all your life. Do you know all the roads and bridges? Could you find your way anywhere in the county?"
"Yes, sir; I think I could."
"Tell me about the bridges. Have many of them been torn up?"
Tom did not know, but he thought of his meeting with young Lieutenant Gordon that morning, and boldly answered, "Yes, sir."
"How does it happen that your good father and the other loyalists permit that?"
"My father's not at home, and there are too many of the pa—of the rebels."
"I thought you told me your father sent you out with your gun," said the colonel quickly. "How is that? How could he send you if he wasn't at home?"
"He sent me before he left," replied Tom, his voice trembling in spite of his efforts to control it.
"Do you know where Washington is?" inquired the colonel abruptly.
"I hear he's up by Hopewell. I don't know." Tom might have added that he would be glad to learn, but his wish was not expressed.
"That's right. Heisat Hopewell. Is there any talk about his plans? Have you heard of any rumors among the rebels as to what he plans to do?"
"Yes, sir. I hear he is planning to fall on Clinton's baggage train."
"Sir Henry Clinton, you mean, I suppose," said the colonel sharply. "Do you think you could find your way from here to Cranberry?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know every road?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, then, I shall expect you to go with a party to-night and show them the way."
"But," protested Tom, "I thought you said I could go if I answered your questions."
"You'll have to stay now. Your father's a good loyalist, you say, and he'll not object to his son's remaining here for a day or two and serving as a guide. I'll see that you have some supper and are ready to start before it's dark."
Tom left the colonel's presence, and with a heavy heart turned to look about the little camp.
THE WAY TO CRANBERRY
Itwas late in the evening when Tom started from Colonel Simcoe's camp in company with the lieutenant, whose name he had learned was Ward, and the band of six men. A hearty supper had greatly refreshed the weary lad, and although he was aware that his companions were not without suspicions of him, he still had hopes that he would be able to convince them of his knowledge of the country roads, and then could leave them. His efforts to convince the colonel that he was merely a country lad, who had taken no part in the hostilities, had not been without a measure of success, and if they met with no mishap on the road, doubtless they would be willing for him to depart.
As to leading the little band into Cranberry, Tom had not the slightest objection to that, for it would be going directly toward the place where Washington's army lay, and every step was one nearer the men whom he was most eager to join.
The entire party were mounted, and a horse was also provided for Tom. To be sure, the steed was not a remarkable one, yet, as the lad looked him over before he mounted, he was satisfied that riding would be much easier than walking, and of walking Tom had had sufficient, he thought, on that hot June morning.
"Now, my lad," said Lieutenant Ward, as the party prepared to move, "if you do well by us this night, I have two half joes for you in my pocket. On the other hand, if you fail us, or try to lead us into any trap, you shall have a good taste of the lead my men carry, or know how it feels to dance at one end of a rope with your feet a good yard from the ground. You hear what I'm saying, don't you?"
"Yes, sir," Tom replied. "I can lead you straight to Cranberry, but of course I can't tell what men we shall meet on the way. All I know is that General Dickinson has men out, just as you have."
"Never mind your 'General' Dickinson. I only wish we might have the good fortune to meet the rebel himself. You show us the way and we'll look after any of his men we may fall in with. All we want of you is toshow us the way. They won't be likely to be out on the road in the night."
Tom by no means felt so positive concerning that as the lieutenant did, but the word to start was then given, and mounting his horse he departed from the camp with the men.
The moon was now full and hung low in the heavens like a great ball of fire. The frogs in the swamps were croaking loudly as the men rode past. The air of the summer night was almost motionless, and the heat of the day had only slightly decreased with the coming of the darkness. In all his life in Jersey, Tom had never known a hotter "spell"—as the natives termed it—than they had experienced during the past few days. A Hessian was riding beside him, and Tom could not understand how it was that he still insisted upon wearing the heavy fur hat in such weather.
So intensely warm was the night that the band were compelled to halt at frequent intervals to rest their dripping steeds. The occasional breeze was like the hot breath from an oven, and, in spite of the fact that he was riding, Tom's face was wet with perspiration. The progress was necessarily slow, but the ladsoon came to Doctor's Creek, and as they found the bridge across that stream intact, the lieutenant was pleased and warmly praised the young guide.
The Assanpink Creek was crossed not long afterwards, and as the bridge across that also was still standing, the elation of the leader was visibly increased and he ordered the men to halt for another rest. Some without removing their clothing waded into the stream, which was narrow and shallow where they were, and led their horses in after them. The heaving sides of the poor beasts were wet with sweat and foam, and the men themselves seemed to be but little better. Tom thought he had never suffered more from the heat.
After a rest of a half hour the men resumed their journey. Thus far no one had been met on the road, and the confidence of the band was steadily increasing, in spite of the fact that they were approaching the region in which the American army was supposed to be.
Five miles farther on they came to Rocky Branch and the bridge over this stream was as strong and safe as those they had left behind them.
"The half joes are likely to be yours, my boy," said the lieutenant.
Tom made no reply, for he was thinking that something beside safe bridges might be discovered before they arrived at their destination. Only one more stream remained to be crossed, and then they would be in Cranberry. Just where they were then to go, or what was to be done, Tom did not know. Not a word had been spoken to him concerning the object of the expedition, and all that he was expected to do was to lead the band to Cranberry.
"How much farther have we to go, my boy?" inquired the leader.
"That depends upon the place you've started for," replied Tom. "We shall be in Cranberry after we've gone about ten miles farther, but it covers a good many miles. The township is a big one."
"We'll decide that after we get there. Have we any more streams to cross?"
"Yes. The Millstone river isn't very far away now."
The rests had become so frequent that morning could not be far away, Tom thought. With the appearance of the sun their dangers were likely to be increased, but he made no mention of the fears in his heart, and the band soon started on again.
When they arrived at the Millstone, the first break in the success of the expedition was found, for the bridge was down. This plainly showed that the Americans were not far distant now, and as the lieutenant drew rein on his horse, he said,—
"This means that Sir Henry will find difficulty in getting his baggage train across here. Do you know whether the stream can be forded?"
"Yes," replied Tom, pointing as he spoke to a place a little farther down the stream. "We can wade our horses across there."
"But can the baggage wagons be driven through?"
"That I cannot say. I think not."
"We'll soon find out," said the lieutenant, leading the way to the ford.
The men all followed him, but as the water came well up to their horses' flanks, it was at once evident that Clinton would find great difficulty in getting his baggage train across. The party halted near the bank after they had crossed the stream, and the lieutenant had an earnest conversation with one of his men.
Tom could not hear their words, but he had no doubt that they were discussing thepossibilities of Clinton's march by the way they had come that night.
"We'll go on a bit farther," said the lieutenant at last, and the men obediently mounted and followed their leader.
The gray of the dawn had just appeared in the east, and the air was filled with the songs of the birds. They were now in the township of Cranberry, and the end of their journey could not be far away, Tom thought, although he did not know what that end was to be. Thus far they had come without trouble, but with the coming of the morning, and their proximity to the American army, their difficulties were likely soon to be increased.
The men were silent as they rode slowly forward, and were keeping a constant watch on every side. The sun by this time had made its appearance, and the day gave promise of being even warmer than the preceding one. Before them they could see two rude little houses on opposite sides of the road and at the end of lanes which led back from the roadside. The one on the left Tom instantly recognized as the abode of a Quaker named Nathan Brown, or "Friend Nathan," as his neighbors called him. Many a time hadTom been there, and even then he recalled many of the quaint expressions of the gentle man who had steadily opposed all the hostilities, in accordance with his creed which forbade even the resistance to tyrants.
As the lieutenant saw the two houses he drew the rein on his horse, and the party halted.
"It's time we had some breakfast," he said. "I am wondering whether we can't find something here in these houses. Do you know anything about them, my lad?"
"I know the man that lives in the house on the left. He is a Quaker," replied Tom.
"All the better for us. I think I'll let you go up to his house, and I'll send a man up to the other. The rest of us had better stay here and keep watch, for there may be some prowling rebels around here, for all that we may know."
"I'll go," said Tom quickly. "But I can leave you then, can't I? We're in Cranberry now and all you wanted of me was to lead you there."
"Yes, if you wish," replied the lieutenant. "You've done well, but you'd do better still to go back with us. The rebels are not far away, and you may get into trouble.You must do as you like, though," he added. "You've earned your pay," and he drew the two half joes from his pocket and handed them to Tom.
The lad received the money, no small amount to him, and, after thanking the lieutenant, started quickly up the lane which led to Nathan's house. As he glanced behind him, he perceived that one of the men had started towards the other house, while all the others had dismounted and were still in the road, although they evidently were keeping a careful watch.
When Tom drew near the house he saw the Quaker standing in the doorway. His broad-brimmed hat and the peaceful expression upon his face were in marked contrast to the warlike men he had just left behind him in the road.
"How now?" said Nathan, as he perceived who the approaching man was. "Thee travels early, Friend Thomas; I trust all is well at thy house."
Tom quickly dismounted, and in a few words explained how it was that he happened to be there, and what the purpose of his visit was.
"Thee doesn't say so!" said Nathan insurprise. "And the redcoats even now are at my door and seek refreshment?"
"They are out in the road. They want some breakfast, and I think they'll pay you for it."
"Friend Thomas, I think I can trust thee. I have known thee since thou wert a little lad. Ah, these are sad times for men of peace! The sons of Belial are on all sides. Verily, these days are days of wrath."
Tom was puzzled by Nathan's manner and made no reply. The man turned quickly into the house and soon returned with a well-filled stocking in his hands. Tom instantly surmised what the stocking contained, for he was well aware of the banking purposes to which that article of clothing was turned in many of the homes.
"Come with me, Friend Thomas," said Nathan, grasping a hoe as he spoke and leading the way into his garden. There he dug a hole, and, placing his "bank" within it, covered it again with the earth.
"But Nathan," protested Tom, "if these men search your place for money they'll find this spot, and it'll show at once you've hidden something there. The earth is all fresh and moist here, and it's dry all around it."
"Yea, thou speakest truly, Friend Thomas, but I have a thought by which I may yet outwit these men of war. Tarry here till I return."
The Quaker instantly turned and again entered the house. In a moment he appeared, bearing a large bowl in each hand. One contained water, which he poured over the place where his money was concealed, and the other was filled with corn. He quickly scattered the corn over the wet ground, and then, turning towards the barn, called, "Chick! Chick! Chick! Come, chick! Come, chick!"
Instantly there was a fluttering within the barns, the doors to which were wide open, and the hens came running from every direction.
Nathan's face took on a meaning smile as he watched his flock hastening toward him for their breakfast, and then, turning to Tom, he said, "Is it plain to thee, Friend Thomas, that it is still possible for a man of peace to outwit these sons of Belial? Now go and tell thy companions that such food as I have shall be set before them."
Tom laughed at the trick of the Quaker, and then ran back to his horse, and, mounting,started towards his recent companions, whom he could see still waiting in the road. Doubtless they were becoming impatient by this time, and, without waiting to go all the way back to the road, he stopped at a distance and called to them, beckoning with his hand for them to come, as he shouted.
As soon as he perceived that the lieutenant heard him, he turned about and once more rode back to Nathan's house. He then dismounted and tied his horse to a post which stood near to the kitchen door.
As he glanced up he saw that the leader was riding alone up the lane and now was near the house. Just then he heard the sound of a horse behind him, and, turning quickly about, saw young Lieutenant Gordon dash past him on horseback.
Amazed by the sudden and unexpected appearance of his friend, he stood still and watched him as he rode swiftly up the lane directly toward the approaching men. Gordon was leaning low on his horse's neck, and Tom could see that he was grasping a pistol in his right hand.
Before the startled lad could fairly realize what was occurring, he saw the young lieutenant raise his weapon and aim it at theapproaching horseman. He waited for the report, but none came. Again Gordon raised his pistol, and once more it flashed without a report.
His heart almost stopped when he perceived that the other members of the band had now entered the lane and were riding towards their leader, although as yet they were far behind him. The young lieutenant had also discovered them, and, instantly turning his horse about, dashed back up the lane, with the British lieutenant in swift pursuit.
Unmindful of Tom, they swept past him, and Gordon turned the corner of the barn. Twice around the barn the men raced their horses, and then Gordon turned his horse into the open doorway and dashed through to the other side.
After him followed the leader of the British band in desperate pursuit, and then, as Tom glanced up, he saw his recent companions come shouting and hallooing into the yard which was between the barn and Friend Nathan's little house.
THE BOAT ON THE BAR
WhenLittle Peter discovered the presence of the men before him, his first impulse had been to turn and make a dash into the woods; but the call which he heard quickly changed all that. As one after another of the band appeared, he recognized some of them as men who had been enrolled in the local militia, and his alarm for a moment subsided.
The one who had addressed him he remembered as a young man not much older than himself, who had all the summer been away from his home, busied with his friends and neighbors in protecting the salt works along the shore, and striving to hold back the outlaws from their raids in the county.
The salt works were of especial value at this time, as some of them were owned by the government and aided in increasing the scanty revenues of the poverty-stricken country. Several of them already had been burned by tories or bands of sailors, who had landedfrom some of the gunboats which had come to anchor off the shore for the purpose of inflicting such damage as lay within their power upon the adjacent region.
"What are you doing here, Peter?" repeated the lad who had first spoken.
As Little Peter now recognized the men before him as friends, he quickly related to them the story of the sad misfortunes which had come upon his home; and the many expressions of anger and sympathy which his words called forth were not unwelcome, we may be assured, to the troubled boy.
When his brief story was told, the young man who had hailed him said, "We're on an errand that may fit into your feelings a bit. We're short one man, too. Don't you want to join us?"
"What are you trying to do?"
"We've just had word that a boat is aground off here on the bar, and we're going to see if we can't get her. We've got a whaleboat down here on the shore, and we're going to put out in her and see if we can't pull the other boat off and bring her in with us."
"But there are a couple of gunboats not more than three quarters of a mile out," protestedPeter. "You can't do anything while they are there."
"We can try," said the man who was acting as the leader. "We're one man short, as Lyman here has just said, and if you feel inclined to join us we shall be glad to have you."
Little Peter hesitated. It was not alone the danger of the enterprise which troubled him. He was thinking of his father and his own purpose to discover whether he had been sent to New York or not.
When he explained the cause of his perplexity, the leader said, "That's all right, Peter. We're going down to Tom's River just as soon as we've taken this boat out here. You see, our watch told us the boat is loaded with supplies, and, if we can get her, we're going to do a double deed, for we'll keep the others from having them, and we'll make good use of the stuff ourselves. Now, if you'll go along with us, you'll make another oar for us, and we'll be all the more likely to succeed. Then you can go with us down to Tom's River, and poor company will be better than none in times like these."
"I'll go," said Little Peter quickly, and the march was at once resumed.
As they approached the wigwam, where Peter had left his Indian friends, he stopped for a moment to explain to Indian John the cause of the change in his plans.
John listened quietly until the lad had finished, and then said, "Me see um again."
Little Peter did not understand just what the Indian meant by his words, but he did not wait to inquire, for his friends were already in advance of him, and he hastened to rejoin them.
No one spoke as they silently walked on to the shore, but when they had gained the bluff, Lyman suddenly said, "There! Look there, will you? The word was all right. The boat's aground out there on the bar."
Little Peter instantly recognized the boat as the one which he had seen approaching from the gunboats, and for which the band of men from Refugee Town had evidently been waiting. Doubtless they had mistaken him and Indian John for members of the neighboring militia, and the cause of their pursuit was now explained.
The men did not hesitate now, but going to a place a little farther up the shore, they hastily removed a pile of brush and drew forth the long whaleboat which they had concealedbeneath it. The boat was not heavy, and, lifting it in their arms, they bore it down to the water's edge.
Then grasping its sides, they ran with it into the water, and, at the word from the leader, scrambled on board. In a moment they were all seated, the long oars were drawn forth, and the men gave way with a will.
Little Peter was in the bow, next to his friend Lyman. The excitement now for a time banished from his mind the thoughts of his sorrow, and even the search for his father was for the moment forgotten.
About three-quarters of a mile out at sea were the two gunboats riding at anchor, and resting as gracefully upon the water as if they had been birds. Directly before them was the supply boat, about a quarter of a mile from the shore, and not more than that distance in advance. They could see that four men were on board, and they were still striving desperately to push her off from the bar on which she had grounded.
Not a word was spoken on the whaleboat now, and the men were all rowing with long and steady strokes. The ocean was unusually calm, but every lift of the heavy groundswelldisclosed to them more clearly the outlines of the boat they were seeking. Their purpose had not yet been discovered by the men on the other boat, or if it had been discovered no token was displayed. It was more than possible that they were regarded as friends coming to the aid of the unlucky boat.
In this manner several minutes passed, the whaleboat, meanwhile, making rapid progress over the water, driven forward by the efforts of the determined men. The long, sandy shore stretched away in the distance, the masses of clouds in the sky seemed to be lined with silver as the rays of the sun shone through them, and not a sound could be heard except the heavy breathing of the men and the regular clicks of the oars in the row-locks.
In spite of the peacefulness of the scene, however, all the men in the whaleboat fully realized the desperate nature of their undertaking, and the likelihood that in a moment everything might be changed. Still, there were no evidences of action on the gunboats, and the men on the grounded boat betrayed no signs of alarm.
"There are some men on the shore up yonder," said the leader, as he saw a groupstanding on the beach directly opposite the boat they were seeking. "They don't seem to be able to help them," he added. "I don't believe we've anything to fear from them. Give way, men! Give way!"
The band responded with a will, and the whaleboat darted forward with increasing speed. The other boat lay only a few yards away, and the end had almost come. The excitement on board was intense now, and, although no one spoke, the expression on every face betrayed the feelings of the men. They could see that the others were watching them, but still they manifested no alarm at the approach of the whaleboat.
As the latter ran in alongside, and the men quickly backed water, one of the sailors on the stranded boat—for such their uniforms disclosed them to be—called out, "You're just in time, men! We thought we'd never get this tub off the bar. The tide's coming in, but we're stuck fast."
"That's just what we came for," replied the leader, as he threw a rope to the other boat. "Now make fast and we'll yank you off before you know it."
One of the sailors caught the rope and made it fast, but evidently a change cameover his feelings then, for, glancing suspiciously at the men before him, the one who had acted as the leader said, "You're from Refugee Town, aren't you? You're strangers to me, but I take it for granted you're all right!"
"No, sir; we're militia from Old Monmouth. We've come out here to get you and your boat, too. Here, none of that!" he quickly added, as he saw the men turn to grasp their guns. "We'll send you to the bottom before you can tell your names if you try any of your games on us."
At his command the men in the whaleboat quickly covered the others with their guns. For a moment the silence was unbroken. The advantage for the present was very decidedly with the attacking party. Not only did they outnumber the others, but they were also in a condition to act, and act quickly. The situation, however, could not long remain as it was. The gunboats were not more than a half mile away, and, doubtless, assistance would be sent as soon as the predicament of the men should be discovered.
Then, too, there were the men on the shore to be reckoned with. Apparently, they had no boat with which they could come to therescue of the luckless sailors, but they might soon obtain one, for Refugee Town was not far away. Why they had not already gone there was not apparent. Perhaps they were trusting to the aid of the rising tide and the efforts of the men.
"Pass over your guns!" said the leader on the whaleboat.
The men obeyed, and silently picked up and handed their guns to the attacking party.
"Now we'll see what can be done," said the leader, after he had deposited the weapons on the bottom of the whaleboat. "These fellows are harmless now, and we'll take our oars and see if we can't pull them off from the bar."
His men grasped their oars and began to row. The rope tightened, the boat started a little, but still stuck fast to the bottom. Again the men pulled desperately, but with all their efforts they could not move the grounded boat.
"I'm afraid we'll have to cast overboard a part of the load," said the leader, when the third effort proved as futile as its predecessors.
He arose from his seat and grasped the rope to pull the whaleboat nearer, when thefour men before him suddenly united in a loud shout, and, leaping from their seats, together grasped some other guns which had been concealed beneath the sailcloth, and, turning about before their captors could recover from their surprise, stood aiming their weapons directly at their faces.
"It's our turn," laughed one of the men. "You'll hand over your own guns now!"
No one in the whaleboat moved from his position. The leader still stood, leaning over the side and grasping the rope with his hands. Every one had been so startled by the unexpected summons that he seemed almost incapable of action.
"Come, be quick about it!" said the sailor, as the men still did not move.
A faint sound of a shout now could be heard from the shore, and the movements of the men there, as they ran about the beach, betrayed the fact that they were aware that something was wrong. In the distance, Little Peter could see that two barges filled with men were starting forth from the gunboats. The situation was becoming rapidly worse, critical as it then was.
"Their guns aren't loaded, men!" called the leader suddenly. "They can't harm us."
Still his men did not respond. For an instant no one moved, while their fear was plainly evident from the expressions upon their faces. No one knew whether the leader's words were true or not, and in breathless suspense they waited, fearing every moment to hear the reports of the guns in the other boat.
As the men did not fire, the leader quickly shouted again, "They're not loaded, I tell you! They can't hurt us! Don't pay any attention to them!"
His words instantly served to arouse his companions, for they now knew that if the guns had been loaded they would have been discharged before this.
The sight of the barges which had started forth from the gunboats, and the increasing confusion of the men on the shore, combined to render the attacking party desperate now. Whatever they were to do they must do quickly.
The leader called to his companions to cover the others with their guns, and, drawing the whaleboat close up, said: "The boat's loaded with guns and powder! That's just what we want. Now you take your oars and push while my men row," he added,speaking to the sailors. "The first one of you that draws back will get a dose of lead. Now! Quick! Do as I tell you!"
The men sullenly laid down the empty guns, and, picking up their oars, began to push against the sandy bottom. The men in the whaleboat were rowing desperately, and soon could feel that the other boat had started.
It was not yet free, however, and the leader called again to the sailors, "Harder, men, harder! You aren't half pushing. That's right! Harder yet! Harder, I say! We'll be out of this in a minute. Give way, men! You aren't asleep, are you? Pull! Pull!"
In his eagerness, the leader laid down his gun, and, hastily grasping an oar, began to pull with his companions. Slowly the grounded boat responded to their efforts. Inch by inch it slipped from the bar, but was not yet free.
Meanwhile, the confusion on the shore was increasing. The men were running up and down the beach, waving their arms and shouting. The two barges were coming swiftly from the gunboats, and if the loaded boat was not soon dragged from the bar, it would once more be in the possession of the enemy.
They were still working desperately. The perspiration stood out in great drops upon their faces. They braced their feet against the seats in front of them and put forth all their strength. The moments seemed like hours to the struggling men, but the loaded boat was slow to respond to their efforts. It was steadily yielding, however, and at last they saw the boat slide from the bar and rest easily upon the open water.