The Continental Dragoon Part 5

Heads appeared over the fence-rail, guns were rested on it, and there came from it some irregular flashes of musketry. Then Harry saw a man moving his head and arms, as if shouting and gesticulating. The musket flashes ceased. Harry did not know it then, but the man was Putnam, and he was commanding the Yankees to reserve their fire. The British files were now ordered to deploy into line, and fire. They did so as they advanced, firing in machine-like unison, as if on parade, but aiming high. Nearer and nearer, as Harry went forward, rose the fence ahead and the breastwork on the hill towards the left. Why did not the Yankees fire? Were they, indeed, paralyzed with fear at sight of the lines of the King's grenadiers?

All at once blazed forth the answer,--such a volley of musketry, at close range, as British grenadiers had not faced before. Down went officers and men, in twos and threes and rows. Great gaps were cut in the scarlet lines. The broken columns returned the volley, but there came another. Harry found himself in the midst of quivering, writhing, yelling death. The British who were left,--startled, amazed,--turned and fled. As mechanically as he had come up, did Harry go back in the common movement. General Howe showed astonishment. The left wing, too, had been hurled back, down the hill, by death-dealing volleys. The rabble had held their rude works against the King's choice troops.

Never had as many officers been killed or wounded in a single charge.

There had not been such mowing down at Fontenoy or Montmorenci. These unmilitary Yankees actually aimed when they fired, each at some particular mark! Harry had heard them cheering, and had thought they were about to pursue the King's troops; they had evidently been ordered back.

The troops re-formed by the sh.o.r.e. Orders came for another a.s.sault.

Back again went Harry with the right wing, bearing the colors as before. He had secretly an exquisite heart-quickening elation at the success of his countrymen. If they should win the day, and hold this hill, and drive the King's troops from Boston! He knew, at last, on which side his heart was.

There was more play of artillery during this second charge. Harry could see, too, that the village of Charlestown was on fire, sending flames, sparks, and smoke far towards the sky. It was not as easy to go to the charge this time, there were so many dead bodies in the way.

But the soldiers stepped over them, and maintained the straightness of their lines. Again it seemed as if the rebels would never fire. Again, when the King's troops were but a few rods from them, came that flaming, low-aimed discharge. But the troops marched on, in the face of it, till the very officers who urged them forward fell before it; then they wavered, turned, and ran. Harry's joy, as he went with them, increased, and his hopes mounted. The left wing, too, had been thrown back a second time.

There was a long wait, and the generals were seen consulting. At last a third charge was ordered. This time the greater part of the right wing was led up the hill against the breastwork. With this part was Harry. One more volley from the rebel defences met the King's troops.

They wavered slightly, then sprang forward, ready for another. But another came not. The rebels' ammunition was giving out. Harry's heart fell. The British forced the breastwork, carrying him along. He found himself at the northern end of the redoubt. Some privates lifted him to the parapet; he and a sergeant mounted at the same time, and leaped together into the redoubt. They saw Lieutenant Richardson, of the Royal Irish Regiment, appear on the southern parapet, give a shout of triumph, and fall dead from a Yankee musket-ball. A whole rank that followed him was served likewise, but others surged over the parapet in their places. The rebels were defending mainly the southern parapet. Many were retreating by the rear pa.s.sageway. Harry saw that the King's troops had won the redoubt. He took his resolution. He threw the colors to the sergeant, pulled off his coat, handed it to the same sergeant, shouting into the man's ear, "Give it to the colonel, with the letter in the pocket;" picked up a dead man's musket, and ran to the aid of a tall, powerful rebel who was parrying with a sword the bayonets of three British privates. The tramp of the retreating rebels, invading British, and hand-to-hand fighters raised a blinding dust. Harry and the tall American, gaining a breathing moment, strode together with long steps, guarding their flank and rear, to the pa.s.sageway and out of it; and then fought their course between two divisions of British, which had turned the outer corners of the redoubt. There was no firing here, so closely mingled were British and rebels, the former too exhausted to use forcibly their bayonets. So Harry retreated, beside the tall man, with the rebels. A British cheer behind him told the result of the day; but Harry cared little. His mind was at ease; he was on the right side at last.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'GIVE IT TO THE COLONEL.'"]

Thus did young Mr. Peyton serve on both sides in the same battle, being with each in the time of its defeat, striking no blow against his country, yet deserting not the King's army till the moment of its victory. His act was indeed desertion, desertion to the enemy, and in time of action; for, though his resignation was written, it was not only unaccepted, but even undelivered. Thus did he render himself liable, under the laws of war, to an ignominious death should he ever fall into the hands of the King's troops.

During the flight to Cambridge, Harry was separated from the tall man with whom he had come from the redoubt, but soon saw him again, this time directing the retreat, and learned that he was Colonel Prescott, of Pepperell. Some of the rebels discussed Harry freely in his own hearing, inferring from his attire that he was of the British, and wondering why he was not a prisoner. Harry asked to be taken to the commander, and at Cambridge a coatless, bare-headed captain led him to General Ward, of the Ma.s.sachusetts force. That veteran militiaman heard his story, gave it credit, and, with no thought that he might be a spy, invited him to remain at the camp as a volunteer. Harry obtained a suit of blue clothes, and quartered in one of the Harvard College buildings. In a few days news came that the Congress at Philadelphia had resolved to organize a Continental army, of which the New England force at Cambridge was to be the present nucleus; that a general-in-chief would soon arrive to take command, and that the general-in-chief appointed was a Virginian,--Colonel Was.h.i.+ngton. Harry was jubilant.

Early in July the new general arrived, and Harry paid his respects to him in the house of the college president. General Was.h.i.+ngton advised the boy to send another letter of resignation, then to go home and join the troops that his own State would soon be raising. On hearing Harry's story, Was.h.i.+ngton had given a momentary smile and a look at Major-General Charles Lee, who had but recently published his resignation of his half-pay as a retired British officer, and who did not know yet whether that resignation would be accepted or himself considered a deserter.

Peyton sent a new letter of resignation to Boston, then procured a horse, and started to ride to Virginia. Six days later he was in New York. In a coffee-house where he was dining, he struck up an acquaintance with three young gentlemen of the city, and told his name and story. One of the three--a dark-eyed man--thereupon changed manner and said he had no time for a rascally turncoat. Harry, in hot resentment, replied that he would teach a d.a.m.ned Tory some manners. So the four went out of the town to Nicholas Bayard's woods, where, after a few pa.s.ses with rapiers, the dark-eyed gentleman was disarmed, and admitted, with no good grace, that Harry was the better fencer. Harry left New York that afternoon, having learned that his antagonist was Mr. John Colden, son of the postmaster of New York. His grandfather had been lieutenant-governor.

Harry had for some time thought he would prefer the cavalry, and he was determined, if possible, to gratify that preference in entering the military service of his own country. On arriving home he found his people strongly sympathizing with the revolt. But it was not until June, 1776, that Virginia raised a troop of horse. On the 18th of that month Harry was commissioned a cornet thereof. After some service he found himself, March 31, 1777, cornet in the First Continental Dragoons. The next fall, in a skirmish after the battle of Brandywine, he was recognized by British officers as the former ensign of the Sixty-third. In the following spring, thanks to his activity during the British occupation of Philadelphia, he was made captain-lieutenant in Harry Lee's battalion of light dragoons. After the battle of Monmouth he was promoted, July 2, 1778, to the rank of captain. In the early fall of that year he was busy in partisan warfare between the lines of the two armies.

And thus it came that he was pursuing a troop of Hessians down the New York and Albany post-road on a certain cold November evening. Eager on the chase, he was resolved to come up with them if it could be, though he should have to ride within gunshot of King's Bridge itself.

Suddenly his horse gave out. He had the saddle taken from the dead animal and given to one of his men to bear while he himself mounted in front of a sergeant, for he was loath to spare a man. Approaching Philipse Manor-house, the party saw a boy leading horses into a stable. Captain Peyton ordered some of his men to patrol the road, and with the rest he went on to the manor-house lawn.

Here he gave further directions, dismounted, knocked at the door, and was admitted to the hall where were Miss Elizabeth Philipse, Major Colden, Miss Sally Williams, and old Matthias Valentine; and, on Elizabeth's demand, announced his name and rank.

CHAPTER V.

THE BLACK HORSE.

Thanks to the dimness, to his uniform, and to his swift entrance, Peyton had not been recognized by Major Colden until he had given his name. That name had on the major the effect of an apparition, and he stepped back into the dark corner of the hall, drawing his cloak yet closer about him. This alarm and movement were not noticed by the others, as Peyton was the object of every gaze but his own, which was fixed on Elizabeth.

"What do you want?" her voice rang out, while she frowned from her place on the staircase, in cold resentment. Her aunt, meanwhile, made the newcomer a tremulous curtsey.

"I want to see the person in charge of this house, and I want a horse," replied Peyton, with more prompt.i.tude than gentleness, yet with strict civility. Elizabeth's manner would have nettled even a colder man.

Elizabeth did not keep him waiting for an answer.

"I am at present mistress of this house, and I am neither selling horses nor giving them!"

Peyton stared up at her in wonderment.

The candle-flame struggled against the wind, turning this way and that, and made the vague shadows of the people and of the slender bal.u.s.ters dance on floor and wall. From without came the sound of Peyton's horses pawing, and of his men speaking to one another in low tones.

"Your pardon, madam," said Peyton, "but a horse I must have. The service I am on permits no delay--"

"I doubt not!" broke in Elizabeth. "The Hessians are probably chasing you."

"On the contrary, I am chasing the Hessians. At Boar Hill, yonder, my horse gave out. 'Tis important my troops lose no time. Pa.s.sing here, we saw horses being led into your stable. I ordered one of my men to take the best of your beasts, and put my saddle on it,--and he is now doing so."

"How dare you, sir!" and Elizabeth came quickly to the foot of the stairs, a picture of regal, flaming wrath.

"Why, madam," said Peyton, "'tis for the service of the army. I require the horse, and I have come here to pay for it--"

"It is not for sale--"

"That makes no difference. You know the custom of war."

"The custom of robbery!" cried Elizabeth.

Captain Peyton reddened.

"Robbery is not the custom of Harry Lee's dragoons, madam," said he, "whatever be the practice of the wretched 'Skinners' or of De Lancey's Tory Cowboys. I shall pay you as you choose,--with a receipt to present at the quartermaster's office, or with Continental bills."

"Continental rubbis.h.!.+"

And, indeed, Elizabeth was not far from the truth in the appellation so contemptuously hurled.

"You prefer that, do you?" said Peyton, unruffled; whereupon he took from within his waistcoat a long, thick pocketbook, and from that a number of bills; which must have been for high amounts, for he rapidly counted out only a score or two of them, repocketing the rest, and at that time, thereabouts, "a rat in shape of a horse," as Was.h.i.+ngton himself had complained a month before, was "not to be bought for less than 200."[4] Peyton handed her the bills he had counted out.

"There's a fair price, then," said he; "allowing for depreciation. The current rate is five to one,--I allow six."

Elizabeth looked disdainfully at the proffered bills, and made no move to take them.

"Pah!" she cried. "I wouldn't touch your wretched Continental trash. I wouldn't let one of my black women put her hair up in it. Money, do you call it? I wouldn't give a s.h.i.+lling of the King for a houseful of it."

"I beg your pardon," said Peyton, cheerfully. "Since July in '76 there has been no king in America. I leave the bills, madam." He laid them on the newel post, beside the candlestick. "'Tis all I can do, and more than many a man would do, seeing that Colonel Philipse, the owner of this place, is no friend to the American cause, and may fairly be levied on as an enemy--"

"Colonel Philipse is my father!"

"Then I'm glad I've been punctilious in the matter," said Peyton, but without any increase of deference. "Egad, I think I've been as scrupulous as the commander-in-chief himself!"

"The commander-in-chief!" echoed Elizabeth. "Sir Henry Clinton pays in gold."

"I meant _our_ commander-in-chief," with a suavity most irritating.

"Mr. Was.h.i.+ngton!" said Elizabeth, scornfully, with a slight emphasis on the "Mr."

"His Excellency, General Was.h.i.+ngton." Peyton spoke as one would in gently correcting a child who was impolite. Then he added, "I think the horse is now ready; so I bid you good evening!"