The Tory Maid
CHAPTER IX
THE RED TIDE OF BLOOD
Spruce Macaronies, and pretty to see, Tidy and dapper and gallant were we; Blooded, fine gentlemen, proper and tall, Bold in a fox-hunt and gay at a ball;
Tralara! Tralara! now praise we the Lord, For the clang of His call and the flash of His sword. Tralara! Tralara! now forward to die; For the banner, hurrah! and for sweethearts, good-bye!
JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER.
It was on the 22d day of August that the rumour flew through the campthat the enemy had landed and was preparing to attack. But the hoursflew by, and still no orders came, until the Line became restless, andthe fear grew that the fight would begin before we could reach thefield of battle. The sun began to sink over the Heights of Harlemwhen an aide rode into our lines. It was Tench Tilghman, who swung hishat and shouted as he went by: "You will have warm work in a day ortwo, boys!"
We gave him a yell in reply, and started with renewed interest thepreparations for the coming fight. A few minutes later came the ordersthat we were to march at dawn. The men received the news joyfully, andit was wonderful to see the change in their bearing; for while thedoubt hung over them, they were restless and murmuring was heard allthrough the camp; but now all was laughter and gaiety. They preparedfor the fight as one would prepare for the next county ball or afox-hunt on the morrow.
The stirring notes of the bugle ringing over the camp brought me to myfeet with a bound, and I looked out of the tent to see a heavy mistover everything, and hear the sound of men's voices coming through itall around me. It does not take a soldier long to don his uniform, andI was soon out attending to my duties. At seven o'clock we were on ourmarch to the ferry, crossing the East River at the foot of the mainstreet of the small town of Brooklyn; then we took a road leading overa creek called Gowanus, and knew that we were marching to guard theright of the American line. Low-lying hills, heavily wooded, laybefore us; it was in these woods that our line was called to a halt,and we took up our position for the battle. We lay there several days,with constant rumours flying through the camp of the enemy's advance,but yet they would not come.
It was on the morning of the 27th of August that the great battle ofLong Island, so disastrous for the patriot forces, broke upon us. Thescattering shots of the skirmishers first made us spring to arms; thenthe sharp rattle of the musketry of Atlee's men and the boom ofCarpenter's cannon on our immediate right told that the enemy waspushing them hard. Then through the forest trees came the line of theBritish advance. The fire extended along our whole front, while farover, to our left came the distant roar of cannon and musketry.
"They are having a hot time over there," said Dick, "but why don'tthese fellows charge us?"
"They will charge us soon enough," I replied. But it seemed as if theynever would, for what promised to be an attack along our whole linedwindled down to a mere exchange of shots. Hour after hour went by,and yet they never advanced beyond a certain point except when acompany or so would dash forward and a sharp skirmish would breakforth for a moment or two, and then die away again. But far over toour left the sound of the battle came rolling nearer and nearer,telling the tale of Sullivan's men being driven in.
"I do not like that," said Dick. "They are doing all the fighting,while we are merely exchanging courtesies with our friends six hundredyards away. Hello! There comes news."
I looked behind us to a small hill, where Lord Stirling stood with hisstaff, and saw Tench Tilghman riding up at full speed. There was ahurried movement among the staff, and Stirling's glasses swept thecountry to our left and rear. A moment later an order was given andthe aides came dashing down our lines, and then, to our disgust, camethe order to retire.
"Retreat!" cried one of the men. "Why, we haven't begun to fightyet!"
"Steady, men," cried Captain Ramsay; "you form the rear guard and musthold the enemy in check," for they were beginning to advance as theregiments on each side of us withdrew. Then we began slowly towithdraw, but there came an aide riding swiftly to Major Gist.Pennsylvania and Delaware regiments took our place in the rear, and wewere marched rapidly to the front. The heavy woods had heretoforeprevented our seeing what was taking place, but now that we had comeout to the opening a wild scene of terror and dismay lay before us.Gowanus Creek, deep and unfordable, with its sullen tide rising fast,lay like a great ugly serpent across our path, while over the meadowand far in our front the broken streams of fugitives were swarming,flying toward the bridge at the mill, the only hope of crossingGowanus Creek. And as I looked, to my horror, the mill and the bridgeburst into flames, catching the routed army as it were between therising tide and the advancing legions of the victorious English. Then,as we watched it, a rumour grew and spread through the ranks, as suchthings will in battle, that a New England Colonel had fired the bridgeto save himself and his regiment. How we cursed New England then, andswore that if we ever escaped we would have our reckoning with her andher people.
"There they come!" cried Dick at my side, pointing to where a largestone house crowned a hill immediately in the rear and commanded thewhole field of the terror-stricken fugitives.
I saw the brilliant scarlet of their coats as they took possession ofthe hill and prepared to open fire.
"They will have to be driven from there or we are lost," I answered.
Then, as the prospect looked the darkest and the long line of theBritish formed to make their last advance, Lord Stirling rode up toour line.
"Men of Maryland!" he shouted, "charge that hill, hold Cornwallis incheck and save the army!"
We answered with a yell, as he sprang from his horse to lead us.
Ah, I shall never forget the pride with which we stepped out of themass of flying fugitives, four hundred Marylanders, the greatestdandies and bluest blood in all the army, for this, the proudestservice of the day. We formed for the charge as if on the drillground; our evolutions and lines were perfect, and would have donecredit to the grenadiers of the later empire. Stirling's sword was inthe air, the drums were beating the charge, when there broke from thethroats of our Marylanders the wild, thrilling yell of the southernprovinces, and we leaped to the charge up the long hill, straight intothe face of Cornwallis's army, a handful against thousands. Up, up thehill we dashed. A fire as of hell broke upon us and rattled and roaredabout our ears, thinning our ranks and strewing our pathway with thedead. Men fell to the right and to the left of me, and I strode acrossthe bodies of the slain in my path; but still, over the roar of thecannon and the rattle of musketry, high and shrill rose the yell ofthe charging line. We swept up the hill, the crest was gained, and theBritish fell back before us, when we were met by a sheet of flame, astorm of lead and smoke and fire. We were raised as it were in the airand held there gasping for breath, and then we were swept back downthe hill, struggling desperately to gain a foothold to make a stand.
Again we saw Stirling glance over the meadow and the marsh behind usas we re-formed our line. His voice came ringing down our ranks.
"Once again, men of Maryland."
Once again! Aye, we knew how to answer that call, for the bodies ofour comrades lay dotting the long hillside.
"Once again, and charge home!" cried Ramsay.
We sprang to the charge, and wilder, shriller, fiercer, more terrible,rose the yell--the yell of vengeance that seemed to pick the line upbodily and hurl it up the hill through the scorching, blistering stormand hail of lead, fire, and smoke. I remembered naught till the crestwas gained, and Edward Veasey crying, "Charge home! Charge home!" andwe dashed in upon the scarlet line. Ah me, for a moment, then it wasglorious, as steel met steel, and we drove them, ten times ournumber, back, and rolled them up against the house and forced them offthe plain. And then our hands were on the ugly muzzles of the guns,and Edward Veasey, springing on the carriage, cheered on his men. Butere it had died on his lips, so desperate was the struggle, theEnglish Captain of the guns fired, and Veasey fell. I was but a dozensteps away, and, seeing Ve
asey fall, I dashed through the press ofbayonets to where the English Captain fought.
"Another one!" he cried, as we met face to face.
"Yes, and the last;" and our swords met.
"No time for that!" cried a voice at my side; then there was a flash,and the Englishman fell back into the arms of his men, and the gunswere won for an instant. But only for an instant. Our men melted awayunder the storm of lead from the Cortelyou house, and the weight ofthe advancing regiments forced us back to the crest of the hill. Thenslowly, step by step, down the hill they forced us, until we restedonce more at its foot.
But still the meadow, the marsh, and the creek were black with themass of flying men seeking eagerly, desperately to escape, whilebetween them and the victorious British stretched the ranks of theMaryland Line, now sadly thinned, for one-third of our men were dyeingthe long dank grass with their blood. But that line, thin as it was,closed up the wide gaps in the ranks with as jaunty a step and asgallant a carriage as when they first stepped out for the charge.Their faces looked grim, it is true, for with the smoke and the fire,and the blood and the dust, the genius of battle had sketchedthereon.
For a few minutes we rested at the foot of the hill, for we knew thatour work was not half done, and until the last fugitive was overGowanus Creek we must check the British advance. A glance from LordStirling told us to charge, as he pointed up the long hill with hissword.
Again there came the answering yell, the requiem for many a gallantsoul, and the line once more swung forward to breast the hill. Up thelong hill we toiled again, straight into the teeth of the fire.
Again we gained the crest and fought them, man to man; again by weightof numbers they forced us off the crest, and sent us staggering,reeling down the hill, desperate now.
Yet again Lord Stirling called on us to follow, and yet again wecharged them home.
Men lay wounded, men lay dying, all across the long hillside, andmore than half our number were dead or sorely stricken.
Yet it was for a fifth time that Stirling's voice rang clear, over theroar of the battle, and for the fifth time we picked up the gauge oftheir challenge, and swept forward in the charge.
Thus for the last time we reached the crest, and for one heroic momentheld our own, and then came reeling back from the shock. And, as I wascarried down the hill with the retreating line, I saw the tall figureof Lord Stirling standing upright and alone amid the storm of bullets,courting death and disdaining to retreat.
"To the rescue of Lord Stirling," I cried to the few soldiers who werearound me. Dick, who was near, echoed my shout, and we dashed forward,determined to bring him off by force if no other way could be found.
But we had not advanced a dozen yards before every man that was withus had fallen and only Dick and I reached Lord Stirling, who wascalmly awaiting the end.
"The day is lost, my lord," I cried, "but we have yet time to saveyou."
"Save yourselves, lads," he replied; "you have done everything thatmen can do, but it remains for me either to die or surrender."
"My lord," I cried; but at this moment Dick reeled. "Struck, byGeorge!" he exclaimed, and I caught him as he fell.
"See to your comrade," said Lord Stirling; "you have yet time toescape."
So, throwing Dick's arms around my neck, for there was no time toparley under that rain of lead, I bore him quickly down the hill.
But our work had not been in vain, for as a soldier came to myassistance I saw that the last of the fugitives had reached the otherside, and the army for the moment was saved.
And so, when we reached the banks of Gowanus Creek, we formed in lineonce more and gave a parting yell of defiance; then, turning, weplunged into the creek and swam to the other side, while the shot andgrape from the English on the hill tore across the whole surface ofthe water.
Dick was badly wounded, but, with the soldier's assistance, I swamwith him across the creek and bore him safely out of the range of thefire.
Ah, it was but a shadow of our former line when we formed once more,but the great General himself came to thank us, and that shadow of aline was worth a thousand men.
Thereafter we claimed as our own the post of honour in advance or inretreat; during the famous march on the night after the battle, andin the retreat to White Plains, we formed the rear guard, and the armyfelt secure.
There came a breathing time one day during the retreat, and theGeneral rode up to our lines. We greeted him with the yell he loved tohear, for it brought back to him the Southland and the hunting fieldsof Old Virginia.
Then he told our officers that he wanted us to pick out the youngestof our line to carry a special despatch to the Committee of PublicSafety, sitting at Annapolis, announcing the battle and the famouspart we had taken therein. The choice fell on me, as poor Dick wasgroaning in the hospital, but luckily out of danger from his wound.
"Well, my boy, how old are you?" said the General, smiling down uponme, as I saluted.
"Eighteen, General."
"Do you think you can carry this safely?"
"I was in the charge at Gowanus Ford, General," said I modestly.
"I see," laughed the General, "you are a true Marylander. I wish I hadmore of you in the army."