The Tory Maid

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE RETURN OF THE TORY

  As I turned to ride away, after bidding good-bye to the Captain, Iheard a voice calling me, and looking up, I saw Mistress Nancy at awindow, and riding under it she commanded me to convey to MasterRichard a tiny case wrapped in many papers.

  "And now, sir," said she, "here is something for you;" and she threwme a little case, which, on opening quickly, I saw contained aminiature of a fair young girl, with a wealth of dark brown hair, theloveliest eyes and the sweetest face.

  "Mistress Nancy," I cried, "you are my guardian angel." Placing theminiature over my heart, I threw her a kiss, and rode on my wayrejoicing.

  I rode from Chestertown to Fairlee, where I bade my mother good-bye,and from there I took up the trail to the North, riding into camp oneevening just as the sun was setting.

  I reported immediately to the great General, who thanked me for thespeed with which I had carried the despatches and returned. And then Iwas once more among my old comrades of the Line.

  They crowded around me, one and all, for I had messages for many ofthem, and they were eager for the news of old Kent and the shore, andmy welcome was right royal.

  And now, for a month or so, disasters came crowding upon our arms;defeat and death stalked through our ranks, and cast a gloom over thecause.

  We fought the fight at White Plains, and when Fort Washington fellmany of our Maryland boys went to the hulks of old Jersey to find alast resting-place under the cold gray waters of Wallabout Bay. Amidconstant marching, skirmishes, and defeats the months slipped away,and the cold gloomy winter was upon us. Ah, how cold and bleak andbarren the hillsides looked after the smiling fields of Maryland,touched and warmed by the Southern sun! And then the cold, the bittercold of it all, the white winding sheet of the snow and the ice madeus shiver and hug the fire of dry fence-rails and button ourthreadbare coats more tightly around us, while we looked in despair atthe toes peeping through the ends of our boots. But the great Generalknew how to warm the blood in our veins and drive the despair from ourhearts, when on that bitterly cold Christmas night he led us acrossthe Delaware and hurled us against the Hessians.

  It is true that we left a trail of blood as we marched, dyeing thesnow with its crimson. Yet the fight itself was glorious, and when wecame back in our triumph the cold and the snow were as nothing. Wemade sport of our rags and tatters and laughed the English to scorn.

  Then again when we struck them at Princeton seven days later, threwthe dust in Cornwallis's eyes, and played with him as we willed, wewere ready to follow our leader wherever he pointed the way.

  And so, after humbling the English, we returned to our camp for thewinter, and there made ready for the spring, when we saw my LordCornwallis back on the Hudson again.

  Then we lay in Jersey, watching them over in New York, until far intothe summer, ready to take up the march when the news should come ofthe destination of the English fleet that lay off Sandy Hook.

  At last one day there came a horseman spurring fast from thesouthward, bearing the news of a vast fleet that covered the waves ofthe Chesapeake and lay at that moment off the harbor of Baltimore,threatening it with fire and sword.

  Then there was a mighty bustle in the camp, and we whose homes werenow in danger took up the march to the southward, eager to meet thefoe.

  When we reached Philadelphia we found that the enemy had entered theElk, and was now marching on the city, while the hastily calledMaryland and Delaware volunteers threw themselves in the way, cuttingoff straggling parties and obstructing the advance.

  So we hurried on to assist them, and found ourselves on the evening ofthe 10th of September at the Brandywine, with the English advance buta few miles away.

  It was here that I met with one of the volunteers, who on hearing theEnglish were in the Chesapeake had taken his rifle from the rack andjoined in the defence. He came from lower Kent, but told me of thedevastation all through the county of Cecil, wherever the enemy hadlaid its blighting hand.

  "They tell me," he said, "that the old Tory, Charles Gordon, whom theyran out of Cecil, is with Lord Howe, and high in his counsels. Whenthey arrived in the Elk, Gordon, with a body of troops, marched allnight and attacked the house of James Rodolph at dawn. Rodolph wasaway from home, and that is the only thing that saved him, for theysay that Gordon swore that he would hang him if he once caught him. Asit was, he gave Rodolph's house to the flames, and burned everythingon the place. 'An eye for an eye,' said he, 'is a Highland saying aswell as a Jewish one. I regret that I cannot destroy the land aswell.' Rodolph, when he heard of it, stormed and swore, but he has notdared to venture within the confines of Cecil since."

  "Did Gordon do anything else?" I asked.

  "No. After he burnt Rodolph out he tried to stop Lord Howe frompillaging, but his lordship answered, 'You have had your turn, and nowyou must let the others have theirs,' and so the pillaging went on."

  But the planters and the yeomen who had risen at the first alarm hungon the flanks of Lord Howe's army, cutting off stragglers andscouting-parties, and confining the belt of desolation within narrowlines.

  At last came the 11th of September, the day when we met Lord Howe atthe Brandywine, and were sent reeling back in disorderly retreat, whenby a skilful march they outflanked our right wing and rolled it up.

  And then disaster followed disaster. Paoli came, that grim and bloodysurprise at the dead of night. We had marched with Wayne and gainedthe rear of the British column, and lay for the night in a dense wood,waiting for the recruits under Smallwood, who was marching to join us,before we began our attack on the British rear.

  It was in the early hours of the morning, the blackest of the night,the hour before the dawn, when there came sudden shots from ourpickets, and before we could spring to arms the Highland war-cry rangthrough the forest and the Black Watch swept over us. The wild formsof the Highlanders, the intense darkness, the surprise, the din andnoise of the strife as those who could grasp their muskets made adesperate stand, struck terror through the camp, and ere the men couldrally we were swept into the woods beyond. It seemed to me, as I wasborne along in the press, I heard, high over the charging cry of theScots, the voice of the old Tory cheering his men on. Certain it isthat I saw him for a moment by the light of a camp-fire, sword inhand, urging on his wild Scots, who seemed to grow wilder under hisleadership, as our line melted away before their advance.

  Ah! but it was grim and terrible. Our men, overcome by the surpriseand the rout, carried terror into the camp of Smallwood's recruits,which was near at hand, and they, too, gave way.

  But the dawn came: with it we gathered our shattered forces togetherand marched back to join Washington.

  Philadelphia fell, but the tide soon turned; for at Germantown we oncemore met them and avenged the surprise at Paoli.

  But the thing that thrilled us through and through and set our bannershigh was the courage of our brothers of the Line, who, thrown intoFort Mifflin, held it in the teeth of the enemy's fire until every gunwas dismounted and the fort itself levelled to the earth, leavingnothing to defend. It was a brave and gallant action, and we enviedthem for their good fortune.

  We had avenged Paoli at Germantown, yet this added another wreath toour banner. It was a thing to stir the blood and to set the pulsesbounding to hear how those heroes fought under the crumbling walls ofMifflin, and prayed for the friendly cover of night to fall to hidethem from that storm of fire and shell, and yet fought on.