HOME AGAIN
Back at the scene of the battle Rodney found preparations were being
made for the little army to march, leaving a detachment behind to
dispose of the dead and care for the wounded. No one seemed to know
where they were to go. Many thought, in view of the fact that the
British had been defeated and Tarleton put to flight, Morgan would
remain in the vicinity for reinforcements and await an attack by
Cornwallis. Few realized what a daring thing he had already done.
Had Tarleton's headlong charges thrown his meagre forces into
confusion they would have had little opportunity to retreat and most
of them would have been cut down. Morgan afterwards was criticized by
the envious for having risked a battle under the circumstances. He
believed he knew that it was necessary to fight that battle and he had
won against odds. The "Old Wagoner" didn't propose to wait while
Cornwallis should overtake him with a superior force and recapture the
prisoners and spoils and annihilate his forces. Instead, though he
concealed his plans, he resolved upon making the quickest retreat
possible. To do this he marched toward a ford which was nearer to
Cornwallis than to him. It was a great risk but he felt he must take
it.
"If you've got a home, you better get to it, my lad," the kindly
doctor had said while hastily bandaging the lad's wounded arm. "This
may give ye trouble, though I hope not."
"That's good advice," said Morgan, who chanced to overhear the
doctor's words and recognized Rodney. "You report to Colonel
Washington and tell him Morgan has ordered you home to Charlottesville.
This war has eaten up too many of my Rangers already." With that
parting advice he mounted his horse and rode away.
There remained for Rodney nothing to do but obey orders, though he was
loath to leave. The spirit of victory was in his soul. That had been a
glorious battle and the right had triumphed. The bloodhounds had put
their tails between their legs and fled. He did not realize that they
would rally and soon be close upon the heels of the retreating
Americans, and that nothing would save the latter but the winter
floods which were to fill the rivers and delay the British.
Through a land ravaged by war, over roads deep with mud, where might
be found only the poorest accommodations for man or beast, Rodney
Allison rode homeward. His arm give him little trouble except the fear
it might always be stiff. The nearer he came to home the more he
longed to be back with the army. It troubled him to think that in the
victories he was sure would follow he could not have a part.
"I'm never able to win promotion," he said to himself, rather
bitterly. The picture of that winter night, the witching face of
Lisbeth and her mocking laugh as she rode away, kept recurring to his
mind. What a girl she had been, the best playmate even a boy might
wish; always ready for a lark, daring, mischievous, with wit as keen
as a blade and quick as a flash. He could not think of her as dead,
and the bitterness of his heart at the trick she had played upon him
troubled him now as he looked back upon it. "She didn't know what she
was doing, did she, Nat, old boy?"
Nat had been plodding along but now lifted his head with some show of
interest. The hard life he had led since the day Mogridge had stolen
him had not quite broken his spirit, though he was gaunt and worn with
cruel service.
"I've got you, Nat, if I haven't got a promotion, and of the two I'd
rather have you," said his rider, patting his shoulder.
The lad was nearing his long journey's end. In the distance were the
mountains. A few miles further and Monticello would be visible. Over
those mountains lay what seemed to the lad a great world. The life he
had lived in it seemed like another life and Ahneota, little Louis,
the Indian village and all, but the fancies of a dream. Sometime he
would go back there.
When he saw the familiar house a thought came to his mind, and he
wondered it had not come sooner. Would he find them as he had left
them, mother, and 'Omi, and Zeb, and Mam, and Thello?
For an instant he almost feared to go on. Ah, there was Mam, waddling
across from house to shed, probably going to call Thello from his
favourite seat in the sunshine on the sheltered side of the building.
The door opens and his mother runs out. She has seen him riding up,
and she cries: "Rodney, my boy!" and throws her arms about his neck,
standing on tiptoe, for he is tall.
"Only one arm left for hugging, Mother. This is the only badge I bring
back from the war," and he pointed to his arm in the sling, adding, as
he notes her alarm, "it's nothing serious. How are you all?"
"All well and happy now you are back, all save poor old Thello, who's
very miserable, but sight of you will make him forget his aches, I'm
sure. Why, Rodney, where did you find Nat? Don't you know me, Nat, or
have they treated you so badly you've forgotten old friends?"
Naomi, now grown to a handsome girl, ran out and it was some minutes
before quiet was restored. Then Rodney asked for Zeb.
"I sent him to Philadelphia. I learned a very dear friend of ours
living there is in sore trouble, and I hope he will succeed in having
her return with him."
"Any one I know?"
"Some one you are much interested in. Your friend, Captain Enderwood,
who had been to Philadelphia to see her, came all the way to
Charlottesville to tell us about her. He also told me how she was the
one who had you released from prison and nursed you through your
sickness while you were unconscious, and made herself sick in
consequence."
"You don't mean--you can't mean--"
"I mean that Elizabeth Danesford is alive. The mistake came from the
report that she couldn't live. Doesn't it seem too good to be true?"
and Mrs. Allison watched Rodney's face as she added: "She is very
poor. Captain Enderwood wished to marry her, he frankly told me so,
but you know it would require more than poverty to weaken Lisbeth's
resolution. The captain had heard her speak of me as her adopted aunt
and he came all the way to Charlottesville to tell me about her. You
see, her uncle and aunt in Philadelphia are dead and she has no kin in
this country save a cousin who is not able to render her much if any
assistance."
"She'll not be poor if we ever get what the 'Chevalier' left to us in
his will, for half of what he gave to me, you know, he said he should
have given to her."
"It may be difficult to persuade her to accept it. Enderwood, you
know, offered to share his fortune with her and she refused." There
was a questioning smile on Mrs. Allison's face.
Two days later Zeb returned from the Quaker City, very much downcast
in appearance until he saw Rodney, when his face lighted with
pleasure that was unmistakable.
"Looks how Tarleton let ye off easy."
"He was busy looking after himself. But, Zeb, it seems you failed in
your errand. Is Lis--is Miss Danesford sick?"
"No. I reckon," and Zeb gave a shrewd glance at Rodney, "the wrong man
was sent. She looks pale and tired. She has to work hard; she's
runnin' some sort of a girls' school, an' I'd ruther train a yardful
o' raw recruits."
"I'm sorry you could not persuade her to come," was all Mrs. Allison
said, but she looked at her son, who remained silent.
About two weeks later he announced that he was going to Philadelphia
and no one questioned him as to what his errand might be, though it
was evident to Zeb that Rodney's mother was much pleased.
He had recovered from his wound, and good care and plenty to eat had
restored some of Nat's good spirits, so that man and horse made a very
pleasing appearance as they set forth on the long journey. Nat found
his rider impatient and both were tired when at evening they reached
the tavern where they were to stop for the night. After supper Rodney
sat on the veranda watching the arrivals and departures, for the house
was a much frequented public resort on the main thoroughfare.