The Boys of Old Monmouth Part 10

"Clinton, too, wasn't finding his road all covered over with roses either. About five hundred of our men met him as he came up nearer to Crosswicks, and they thought they were ready, but they weren't anything of the kind. They had cut down a lot of trees and stretched them across the road, but that didn't stop the British. They came on just as if they didn't mind marching over such little things as trees, and there was a little skirmish there, and two or three of the redcoats were killed. One of their officers was shot and they took him up to a house near by, and left him there. Of course the Americans couldn't stand there long, but they didn't run very far.

"Well, the British divisions joined then and started on again. They came to another bridge and our men had it all fixed so that they could just let it fall by one or two strokes of an axe. They had one or two little cannons there, too."

"Who did? The British?"

"No, our men. You know Sam Clevenger, don't you? Well, he stood there on the bridge with his axe in his hands when the British came in sight.

He'd cut the sleepers almost through, and when he saw the redcoats coming, he lifted his axe, and the third time he struck down went the bridge and all. Then Clevenger started to run, but the British fired at him and he fell dead. They'd shot him in the back of the head. Our men then fired their cannon once or twice, but all they hit was the Friends'

meeting-house. Of course the British didn't mind that, and then our men pulled back and left. That was only yesterday. I shouldn't be surprised if the British were over here by Allentown or Imlaystown now, or it may be both."

"What! not more than ten or fifteen miles away?" said Tom excitedly.

"That's what I say. And they'll be nearer, too, before they're farther off, let me tell you."

"Why? How? What do you mean?"

"They'll never go to Brunswick or Amboy, for Was.h.i.+ngton's right in front of them, and ready to head them off. They'll just have to come this way or go back, and that they won't do, for 'Britons never retrograde.'

That's one of their pet words, you know. Isn't that what John Burgoyne said, too?"

"I don't know anything about that," said Tom. "Then General Was.h.i.+ngton has been using a part of the militia and a part of the regulars to bother Clinton and keep him from getting to Brunswick or Amboy, has he?"

"Yes, that's just it."

"Well, I shan't have very far to go, then, to join them now."

"Oh, you're not going to join them. You're coming with me. You're just such a lad as I have been looking for, and you can help me, if I'm not greatly mistaken."

As Tom made no reply except to look up in surprise, the young officer at once began to explain to him the nature of the task to which he had referred.

CHAPTER X

THE STORY OF THE MISCHIANZA

"I'VE been sent out, as a good many others have been, to look up the bridges over the creeks" (the young officer called them "runs," as many of the Jerseymen did then, and still do for the matter of that) "and find out the lay of the land. As I happened to be born in Old Monmouth, and lived here till I was a man grown, it was naturally thought I'd be pretty well informed, so you see I was selected for this special work. I don't know that I object to it, but I'd rather be back with my men."

"And that's what you've been doing, is it?" said Tom.

"Yes, I've been in that work ever since the British started out from Philadelphia. I've kept just a little ahead of the men all the way, and have gone back every night to report, and then the next day they'd follow all my plans. You see I've got a map of every road in the county here," and as he spoke the young lieutenant drew from his pocket a paper on which had been traced every road and every little stream in the region, while the places where bridges were to be found were indicated by red marks.

"Whew!" he added, throwing back his coat. "Isn't it warm! I don't believe there's been a summer like this in years. We've had showers and thunder-storms almost every day. The air now feels as if we'd get another one pretty soon, too."

The air was exceedingly sultry, and a strange stillness seemed to be resting over all. Not a leaf was stirring, and as Tom looked up through the tops of the trees the bright blue of the sky appeared to be more intense than ever he had seen it before. Here and there separate ma.s.ses of heavy clouds could be seen, which, with the sunlight streaming through them, glistened almost like silver. He knew the signs well.

There was the appearance of a coming shower.

"It's too hot to go on," said the young lieutenant. "I'm almost afraid to take my horse out in such heat. I've got the most of my work for the day done, though, and I thought that perhaps you might be able to help me out, Tom. You must know every bridge in this part of the country.

Now you go over this map with me, and tell me if the places are marked right. I've been gone so long I'm not sure of myself, but you ought to know. It'll save me a trip in this broiling sun, if you can help me."

Tom took the map and looked over it carefully. He was thoroughly familiar with the roads and streams, as the lieutenant had intimated, and in a brief time he had given him all the information he possessed.

"There," said the lieutenant at last, folding the paper and restoring it to his pocket again, "that helps me out. I'd been over most of the way, and the two or three places you have told me about finishes the whole thing. I'm ready to go back and report. I think I'll take a bite, though, before I start, and wait and see what the weather is likely to be."

Going to his saddle-bags the young officer brought out the dinner which he carried with him. "Sometimes I stop at some farmhouse and get something to eat," he explained, "but it isn't always safe to trust to that, you see, so I always go provided. I want you to join me, Tom.

It'll seem almost like old times."

The horse had been tied to one of the trees, and, as the lieutenant seated himself upon the ground, Tom gladly joined him. He was tired and hungry, and the piece of bread which he had in his own pocket would keep, and, as he was aware that he might find further use for it, he was the more willing to accept the invitation which had been given him. For a few minutes neither spoke, for they both seemed to be intent upon the immediate duty.

As soon, however, as the first pangs of his hunger were relieved Tom said, "I never understood just why it was that the British left Philadelphia. They'd been there all winter, and after holding the city so long I never could understand why it was that they abandoned it without even a skirmish. What did they do it for?"

"Why, the way of it was this," replied the lieutenant, taking an unusually large bite of the bread he was holding in his hand, as he spoke. "You see, we'd been trying for a long time to get up some kind of a treaty with France. Ben Franklin, and I don't know who all, had been over there trying to work it up, and at last the Frenchmen agreed. Our Congress ratified the treaty on the 4th of last May, and that completely changed the plans of the redcoats."

"I don't see just how that could do it," replied Tom, somewhat puzzled.

"Why it really means a declaration of war by the French against the British. I don't believe the Frenchmen care very much for us, barring young Lafayette and a few others of his kind, but they hate the British, and took this way to get even with them. It's expected that they'll send a fleet over here, and of course the redcoats have got to be ready to meet it,--that is, if they can. Well, Philadelphia doesn't amount to very much any way in war times. It isn't very easy to get into it, so the British there thought they'd better get out and go over to New York, which was a good deal more likely to be threatened by the French fleets.

That's the cause of the change, my lad."

"I should think the redcoats would feel like giving up, now that the French are going to join us."

The young officer laughed as he replied: "That's just where you're mistaken, my young friend. They don't feel that way after they've sent so many armies over here and have spent so much money in discovering us, you see. And then, too, they don't object to getting a few taxes and such like things out of us, either. I've a dim suspicion that the Frenchmen may have just a bit of a dream that they may get back some of the country that dropped out of their hands during the French and Indian war. But, however that may be, we're glad to have their help now, for we need it badly enough, and will have to let the future take care of itself."

"I don't see that any one can blame the British for wanting to hold on to us. They have spent a lot of money, and lots of their soldiers have been killed in the wars with the Indians and the Frenchmen."

"Oh no, we don't blame them," laughed the lieutenant. "We don't blame them. It's all natural enough for them to want to hold on to us, but how about ourselves? What about the Stamp Act and the tea tax? What about all their oppression and the way they've treated us? They seem to forget that we're men of like pa.s.sions with themselves. Oh, it's all natural enough for them to want to keep a good hold on us, but it's just as natural for us to object to being held on to. And, Tom, such things as have happened lately, too! Why, this story about Little Peter's mother is only one of a thousand here in Jersey. I've been pretty much all over the colony--the state, I mean--and it's the same story everywhere. It's just plundering, and robbing, and worse. And then to bring over here those Dutch butchers,--that's the worst of it all! To think of hiring those butchers! Why, it just makes my blood boil to think of it! And against us, too, who are their own blood relatives! That's more than human nature can stand!"

Tom felt the contagion of the young lieutenant's enthusiasm, but he made no reply, and his companion continued, "The redcoats had a great time when they cleared out of Philadelphia. I was there and saw it myself."

"You were there? I thought you were up at Valley Forge all winter!"

"So I was, when I wasn't in Philadelphia. I had to go there sometimes, but I never wore my uniform then. Oh no, I didn't think it was very becoming to my peculiar style of beauty, so I always left it behind me."

"What were you, a spy?"

"That isn't what we call it," replied the young officer, lowering his voice and glancing quickly about him at Tom's words, "Never mind what I was, but I was there and that's enough. I'm telling you now about the time the redcoats had when Sir William Howe gave over the command to Sir Henry Clinton. His officers got it up as a kind of a farewell, you see.

They called it the Mischianza."

"What's that? I don't understand."

"What, the Mischianza? Oh, that's an Italian word, and means a 'mix up'

or a 'medley,' or some such thing; I don't know just what. But I'm telling you now what it was, and what they did. It commenced with a kind of a regatta which they'd arranged in three divisions. Up the river in front came the Ferret galley, and on board were some of the general officers and their ladies. Then came the Centre galley,--that was called the Hussar,--and carried both the Howes and Clinton and their suites, along with a lot of ladies. Behind came the Cornwallis galley, in which were Knyphausen and some of the British generals, and, of course, a lot of ladies.

"Well, sir, they looked fine, I can tell you, for I was in the crowd which watched the affair from the sh.o.r.e, and I saw every bit of it. On each quarter of the galleys there were five flatboats, all lined with green, and having lots of people on board. Then, in front of the galleys, were three more flatboats, and a band of music was on board of each, and they could play, too, let me tell you, if they were redcoats.

Six rowed along each flank, and they were all dressed up in bright colors, and so were the s.h.i.+ps and the transport boats, which made a line all the way down to the city. All the wharves were crowded and the people were just wild. The boats started out from Knight's wharf--that's away up in the northern part of the city, you know--and rowed all the way down to Market wharf. There they rested on their oars, the bands played 'G.o.d save the King,' the people shouted and sang, and I couldn't help feeling something of the excitement, though I hate the very sight of a redcoat.

"Well, they landed at the Old Fort, and the bands were still playing, and the Roebuck fired seventeen guns and then the Vigilant fired seventeen more. The grenadiers had been drawn up in a double file on sh.o.r.e, and the company then marched up between the lines. They had hors.e.m.e.n there, too, and what with the bright dresses of the ladies and the bright favors of blue and white ribbons on the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the managers, who moved in front of the procession, and the uniforms and all, it was a great sight. I should have thought Lord Howe would almost have been sorry he was going to leave.

"The avenue led up to a big lawn, which was all fixed up with arches and rows of benches, rising one above another, where the ladies were to be seated; and then they had some tilts and tournaments, something as they used to have in old England. There were young ladies there, too, lots of them, and they were all dressed up in Turkish costumes, and such like.