[Illustration: “_GET OUT OF THE WAY, MY HEARTY_”]
The Young
Continentals
at Trenton
_by_
John T. McIntyre
_Author of_
“The Young Continentals at Lexington”
“The Young Continentals at Bunker Hill”
[Illustration]
Illustrated by Ralph L. Boyer.
_The Penn Publishing
Company Philadelphia
MCMXI_
COPYRIGHT
1911 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
[Illustration]
Introduction
“The Young Continentals” series deals with the experiences of four
boys in the American Revolution. One of them, Nat Brewster, is from
the hills about Wyoming, Ben Cooper is from Philadelphia, while the
Prentiss twin brothers come from Boston.
In the first book of the series, “The Young Continentals at Lexington,”
Nat Brewster played the leading part--a part full of daring and
enterprise. In the second book, “The Young Continentals at Bunker
Hill,” Ezra Prentiss replaced Nat as the principal figure, while in the
present volume, George Prentiss steps into the foreground.
The first book dealt with the revolution from the stirring of the wrath
of the colonies to the first blows struck at Lexington and Concord
Bridge. The second began where the first ended, and related the events
that took place during the siege of Boston, including the fight on
Breed’s Hill and ended with the evacuation of the city by the British.
The present, or third, takes up the thread of the great struggle where
the second laid it down; it deals with the preparation for defending
New York City, describes the battle of Long Island, the crossing of the
Delaware and the capture of the Hessians at Trenton.
The fourth book, “The Young Continentals at Monmouth,” takes in the
encounters around Philadelphia, including the battle of Germantown, and
ends with Washington’s brilliant success at Monmouth. Ben Cooper fills
the eye in this volume; and during the course of the story appears the
celebrated Molly Pitcher, the girl who served a gun at Monmouth and
whom Washington afterward made a sergeant on the field of battle. This
volume is now in preparation.
Contents
I. SHOWS HOW MERCHANT DANA BOARDED THE “NANCY BREEN” AND
WHAT CAME OF IT 9
II. SHOWS THE RECEPTION GEORGE PRENTISS MET WITH IN NEW YORK
TOWN 34
III. TELLS HOW A BULLY ENTERED THE “KING’S ARMS” 52
IV. TELLS HOW THE BULLY CHANGED HIS MIND, AND HOW GEORGE WAS
SENT FOR IN HASTE 64
V. IN WHICH GENERAL PUTNAM HAS HIS SAY 75
VI. EXPLAINS HOW GEORGE PRENTISS BECOMES A GUEST AT THE
“WHEAT SHEAF” 82
VII. TELLS HOW THREE PEOPLE MADE A DASH FOR FREEDOM 111
VIII. TELLS HOW PEGGY GAVE A WARNING 122
IX. IN WHICH GEORGE PRENTISS RECEIVES AN INVITATION 129
X. SHOWS HOW WASHINGTON CAME TO NEW YORK 138
XI. IN WHICH GEORGE PRENTISS MAKES A SUDDEN RESOLUTION 152
XII. TELLS HOW TWO PEOPLE PEERED THROUGH THE WINDOW OF THE
OLD MILL 163
XIII. IN WHICH PEGGY CAMP SHOWS HER COURAGE 171
XIV. SHOWS HOW THE BRITISH SHIPS CAME INTO THE BAY 181
XV. TELLS HOW GEORGE VISITED THE HOUSE IN CROWN STREET 190
XVI. PEGGY SPEAKS HER MIND 204
XVII. SHOWS WHAT HAPPENED IN THE TAPESTRIED CHAMBER 217
XVIII. IN WHICH IS FOUGHT THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND 229
XIX. DESCRIBES HOW GEORGE AND HIS FRIEND START UPON A
DANGEROUS MISSION 255
XX. TELLS OF TWO PATRIOTS IN TRENTON 274
XXI. HOW COLONEL RAHL PROPOSED GIVING A CHRISTMAS CONCERT 283
XXII. TELLS HOW A FIRE WAS KINDLED ON A HILLSIDE 301
XXIII. SHOWS HOW THE CONCERT WAS INTERRUPTED 317
Illustrations
PAGE
“GET OUT OF THE WAY, MY HEARTY” _Frontispiece_
GENERAL PUTNAM GLANCED UP 47
“I WALKED INTO A NEST OF KING’S MEN” 89
LORD STERLING BROKE THE SEAL 156
“ALEXANDER HAMILTON,” HE REPLIED 184
THE HAND PAUSED 221
“IT’S THE ARMY OF WASHINGTON” 315
The Young Continentals at Trenton
CHAPTER I
SHOWS HOW MERCHANT DANA BOARDED THE “NANCY BREEN” AND WHAT CAME OF IT
A dry, weazened little man with a halt in his step passed “The
Brigantine” inn which faced the East River at the foot of Broad Street;
and as he did so, he peered in at the windows and doors, for it was a
fine spring morning and they stood wide. “The Brigantine” was a place
for captains and mates and merchants to congregate; and all about it
were warehouses, shipping offices and places for the sale of maritime
stores.
Apparently what the weazened little man sought was not visible in or
about the tavern, for he went halting across the roadway and out upon
the wharf, peering inquisitively here and there through a pair of
huge, horn-rimmed glasses.
A good-sized shallop was moored to the wharf. She had come down the
Sound during the night; a lean looking lad with a vacant grin upon his
face was furling her clumsy lugs, and in the waist the skipper was
coiling a line with expert neatness.
The dry little man limped to the string-piece; readjusting his glasses,
he inquired in a high thin voice which squeaked when he sought to raise
it:
“Just in to-day, captain?”
“An hour ago,” replied the skipper.
The little man stepped upon the rail and then with great care reached
the deck. Approaching the skipper, he proceeded with marked anxiety and
some craft:
“I suppose you hail from Newport?”
“New London,” replied the shallop’s master.
The anxiety of the little man now became tinged with eagerness.
“You did not bring a passenger, I know,” said he.
“Wrong, master,” returned the sailor. “I did, and there he sits, as
natural as you please.”
A bronzed, well-made youth was leaning over the craft’s stern, gazing
out over the waters of the bay to where several black hulled frigates
swung frowningly at anchor; his eyes seemed to soberly measure the
flaunt of their colors, and the bravado of their staring ports.
At once the weazened little man was at his side.
“Good-morning, young gentleman,” said he, with a squeak. “It is a
beautiful day, is it not?”
The young man turned and surveyed the newcomer.
“Yes,” he returned, “it is a fine day enough.”
“You came down from New London, I understand,” questioned the dry
little man. The youth nodded rather absently. However, the other
rubbed his hands with quite a degree of briskness and seemed
greatly pleased. “And,” said he, positively, “you were required to
deliver--ah--something to--ah--some one?”
The youth was alert enough now; he examined the little man with
inquiring eyes.
“Quite so,” he replied.
The hand rubbing now indicated vast relief; but in a moment it ceased,
and an expression of disquiet came into the wrinkled, high-featured
face.
“Of course,” spoke the little man, eagerly, “this vessel is the ‘Nancy
Breen’?”
“It is,” answered the other.
The disquiet instantly departed; the squeak in the voice was full and
content as the newcomer said:
“I had really forgotten to inquire; and it was a rather important
question, too. But no matter.” Here the voice lowered itself into a
pitch of confidence. “I was sent to give you a few instructions.”
“From headquarters?”
“Yes. You are not to make yourself known. I was to impress that upon
you fully. Neither are you to call at any one’s lodgings.”
The young man seemed puzzled.
“That has rather an odd sound,” said he. “Where am I to transact my
business?”
“There are many places where it may be done without attracting
attention. But the best of these perhaps is the ‘Wheat Sheaf,’ an inn
just above the city.”
“I don’t quite understand it,” said the other. “Will you be kind enough
to explain why all this secrecy is necessary?”
“Secrecy,” and the weazened little man made a wide gesture, “is never
a bad thing. And while some of the reasons for this exercise of it are
most obvious, others are as unknown to myself as to you. I am not a
person of sufficient consequence to warrant my being told any but the
outside facts. If you desire to learn more, you’d do well to inquire of
those who are better informed.” He seemed about to take his departure
at this, but paused. “Shall we say the ‘Wheat Sheaf,’ then, to-morrow
night at nine?”
“If it is necessary,” said the young man.
“Believe me, it is necessary, or I should not have been sent to you.”
The little man walked haltingly to the rail, climbed upon it and then
upon the wharf.
However, he had not gone a dozen yards when he was halted. A stout,
choleric old gentleman came stamping along; he had an oaken staff in
his hand, and its tip rang angrily upon the stones.
“Ah, Mr. Dana,” cried he, “well met.” He paused before the dry little
man and seemed to bristle with indignation. “I have been given to
understand, sir, that the ‘Sea Gull’ is not permitted to sail.”
“I am sorry to say, Mr. Camp,” replied the other earnestly, “that your
information is quite correct.”
At the mention of the name of Camp, the youth on board the “Nancy
Breen” became more attentive; indeed, the expression upon his face
seemed one of recognition.
“Do they mean to ruin us between them?” demanded the stout old
gentleman. “Do they insist upon making beggars of us?”
He flourished the oaken staff and his face grew redder still.
“I will face these miscreants,” declared he. “I will have an
understanding. Four of our ships have been held up in a month. Four in
one month, do you understand? But still you do nothing!”
“If you will but listen to reason,” Mr. Dana said, but the angry old
gentleman took him up in an instant.
“Reason!” cried he. “Reason! Was there ever a time, Mr. Dana, that I
refused to harken to it? Answer me, sir! Specify an instance when I
turned away from even common sense. I defy you to do it, sir; I defy
you!”
“Now, now, Mr. Camp, don’t be vexed. I did not mean to insinuate that
you were not open to reason. Nothing of the sort, dear sir, believe me.
I merely desired that you listen to my remarks on the situation.”
The other planted the point of his staff firmly upon the stones.
“I have great respect for your capabilities, Mr. Dana,” said he. “No
man more so. But the thing is beyond explanation. The vocabulary of
Dr. Johnson himself would throw no light upon it.” He lifted the staff
and pointed across the peaks of the buildings to where the British
flag flew from a pole in the fort. “Do you see that? It should be an
emblem of authority--the symbol of law. But it’s not! It should mark
the power of the English nation--of English civilization. But it does
not. Authority, law, the British nation, and its civilization as well,
are a jest, Mr. Dana. Singly and together they are a jest for every low
fellow in the town.”
“But,” expostulated the other, “can you not see that it will not last?
It is only a momentary turbulence. It will pass. The good folks will
come to their senses by and by.”
“That may be true enough,” said the old gentleman. “Indeed, I have no
doubt but that it is, for the sight of bare bayonets in the hands of
resolute fellows will make them run fast enough, I warrant you. But,
nevertheless, that does not alter the present condition. It does not
remove the fact that an English governor is penned up in Fort George,
that English troops with muskets, cannon and other equipment sit idly
by and permit His Majesty’s town to be overrun by rebels.”
“When Tryon returns he will make an end of it. He is even now on the
sea, so I have heard. The situation needs only a resolved man,” and the
little gentleman waved a hand assuringly.
But the other was not in the least quieted by this view.
“The people of New York,” said he, bitterly, “would, from what I have
seen of them, dare do anything against the peace, if it be agreed with
their rebellious fancies. The king’s desires are not enough for them.
They must have representatives in Parliament, forsooth! They must not
be taxed without their own consent! Nothing must be done in the matter
of the colonies that they don’t, in their pride, consider fit and
proper.” Mr. Camp laughed scornfully. “Oh, no, no, Mr. Dana, you are a
good man of business and far-sighted enough in trade; but you are blind
to what is going on around you.”
This conversation was plainly heard by those on board the “Nancy
Breen.” The skipper winked at the bronzed young man.
“The old gentleman seems to fancy a spell of bad weather,” said he.
“And he doesn’t seem the sort to strip and run before a gale,” returned
the young passenger. “Do you know him?”
“By reputation only, Master Prentiss. He’s a merchant in the West India
trade, now retired from active service. He’s said to be as rich as the
king himself; anyway, he lives somewhere in the Jerseys in a fine
manor house and comes to New York but seldom.”
“For a retired merchant,” commented George Prentiss, “he takes an
uncommon interest in shipping.”
“Oh, as for that, he’s retired only from the active work of it. He
still has his moneys in the trade, I’m told. The gentleman who just
now boarded us is his partner. But,” and the skipper looked at George
inquiringly, “of course you knew that.”
But George shook his head.
“Merchant Camp I know something of,” said he, “but Mr. Dana I never
laid eyes upon before.”
Lexington had been fought and the sneering British column driven back
upon Boston. Then that city had been besieged by an army of farmers
and mechanics; and Breed’s Hill had witnessed its desperate defeat,
though we commonly now speak of the fight as the battle of Bunker Hill.
And, finally, the British had run from Boston to their ships under the
pitiless cannonading of Washington’s batteries.
New York was trembling and expectant. Any day might witness the
arrival of a British fleet; and in the meantime the colonists were
preparing its defenses. George Prentiss was thinking of these things,
his eyes once more fixed upon the frigates afar off. The skipper having
coiled the line to his satisfaction came toward him.
“When you first came aboard me at New London,” he said, “I judged by
the trim of your yards that you were from the army up Boston way.”
George nodded, and the skipper, twisting a strand of rope between his
tarry fingers, proceeded:
“I’ve seen a good many of them of late, and have come to know them at
sight.” He bent nearer to his passenger. “Maybe you’ve come to New York
on special business.”
“Perhaps,” said George.
“And maybe,” suggested the shallop’s master, “you have particular
documents stowed away under hatches.” George did not reply to this,
and the sailor proceeded: “Don’t think me prying, Master Prentiss, for
I’m not. I don’t poke about meddling in other people’s affairs. But I
couldn’t help hearing most of what old Merchant Dana said to you a few
moments ago; and if you’ll take my word for it, you’ll have nothing to
do with his instructions.”
George looked into the candid face of the speaker inquiringly.
“He’s not of the sort I take you to be,” explained the sailor. “Old
Camp there,” pointing to the stout old gentleman with the oaken staff,
“is said to be the most rabid Tory in all New York. But I’ve heard that
questioned. Merchant Dana is a milder mannered man, to be sure; but
those that know claim he’s more to be feared than his partner.”
George looked toward the two merchants, who were now pacing the wharf.
There was no abatement in old Camp’s anger; and Mr. Dana, halting along
beside him, still strove to calm him.
“My dear sir,” stated the latter with confidence, “we shall have but a
short time to wait. It can’t be otherwise. When the ships of the line
and the troopers, bearing His Majesty’s army, left Boston, where do you
suppose they were headed?”
Mr. Camp sniffed and snorted in great disdain.
“What does it matter,” asked he, “where they were headed? Apparently
they are of no great consequence, or they would have been able to hold
Boston. And more than that, sir. If they had been worth the rations fed
them by King George, they would have gone out and soundly beaten the
rabble that opposed them as well.”
But Mr. Dana patiently evaded this.
“Without a doubt they are coming to New York,” declared he, hopefully.
“Without a doubt, Mr. Camp. We shall then see what we shall see.”
“Ay,” said the indignant gentleman, “so we shall. But I expect little.
Lord Howe may be a very excellent officer, but he has yet to prove
it upon this side of the world. It seems that he is much of Colden’s
kidney. He’d rather parley than act. To show these fellows who’s master
needs a strong hand--not a long tongue.”
“But, my dear sir----” began Mr. Dana, but the other waved his words
away with a sweep of the heavy staff.
“There is that rascally renegade whom Washington sent here,” he
exclaimed. “I refer to Charles Lee. Though a greater villain never
lived, still he had a grasp of matters that our own leaders might
pattern by. Did he parley and hesitate when he arrived? He did not,
I warrant you! He set to work in spite of all opposition. The king’s
men threatened him; the soldiery made shift to show their teeth and
the shipping in the bay cleared their decks. But without stopping to
ask their leave, he seized upon the persons of his most outspoken
opponents; then he stared the troops out of countenance and defied the
frigates. Finally he stripped the British batteries of their guns,
began to recruit an army, and build forts and redoubts to guard all the
approaches to the city. While this man, Mr. Dana,” and the staff rang
upon the stones, “has my unqualified disapproval, I cannot refuse him
my admiration. He understands his duty and he does it.”
“Well, thank goodness, he’s been ordered from the city by his chiefs,”
ejaculated Mr. Dana, fervently. “One could scarcely count upon one’s
liberty while he was here.”
“This hectoring fellow, Putnam, who is now in command, as he calls it,
is little milder in his arrestings and confiscatings,” complained Camp.
“And I understand that the arch-rebel himself is even now upon his way
here. When he arrives, I suppose there’ll be scarce a tree or pole in
the town that’ll not have the body of some poor Loyalist gentleman
dangling from it.”
“Do you actually believe that Washington will have the effrontery to
show himself here, with the king’s fleet and an army due at any time?”
His companion snapped his fingers. “Mr. Washington,” declared he, “is
to all appearances a man of enterprise. To be sure he’ll come here, and
he’ll bring his rabble of raw countrymen with him to overawe us.”
During the period in which he had engaged his friend and business
partner as above, the angry manner of Mr. Camp and his excited gestures
had not failed to attract attention. Workmen, carters and merchants’
clerks had gathered into little groups; seamen upon the decks of
vessels near by grinned and pointed him out to their mates. Few could
hear his words; but his anger was so demonstrative, his gestures so
eloquent that none missed his meaning. A lot of rough-looking fellows
were lounging at the end of the wharf upon an upturned yawl; they had
the appearance of deep-water sailors, wore knives in their belts and
possessed an altogether ugly look.
The words of the old gentleman were perfectly audible to these men,
as they were no great distance from him, and their frowning brows
and muttered remarks showed that they did not take the matter as
good-humoredly as those upon the shallop.
Mr. Dana grasped at his companion’s disparaging reference to
Washington’s army.
“Raw countrymen,” said he, “describes them exactly. And do you suppose
that such an array can hope to stand before the trained regiments of
England?”
“Not if the trained regiments of England are properly directed. But I
have little expectation that they will be. And in the meantime, our
business--everybody’s business--is at a standstill. It is an outrage--a
scandal! The leaders of this shameful revolt should be whipped at the
cart’s tail!”
As he spoke these words, the pair in their pacing had arrived at
a point very near to the group of seamen before mentioned. One of
these, a hulking fellow, with a bare, bull throat and a particularly
unprepossessing face, lifted himself from his lounging posture against
the yawl.
“Don’t speak so sharp, Master Camp,” said he. “There are those here by
whom your words are not favored overmuch.”
The old gentleman turned upon him wrathfully.
“None of your impudence, sailor!” cried he. “Speak when you are spoken
to.”
The seaman sneered. “You are very high and mighty, Master Camp, I
know,” said he. “But you and your like will change your manners before
long.”
The short temper of the stout old Tory flared forth. “Before matters
are done with,” exclaimed he, “I’ll see such as you soundly cudgeled.
I knew what would come of flying in the face of the king and resisting
his just tax. One meets with impudence at every turn; an upholder of
law and decency is insulted by every low fellow who chooses to turn
his tongue upon him.”
Here the cautious Mr. Dana took his friend by the arm and tried to draw
him away. But the wrathful old Loyalist shook him off, and swept into
a bitter tirade in which he reproached and abused all who opposed the
king’s government. His furious manner and high-pitched voice drew a
highly entertained crowd; and through this came a young girl.
“Oh, my dear Miss Peggy,” squeaked Mr. Dana, greatly relieved. “I am
delighted that you have come.”
“What is it?” asked she, quietly.
“He has gotten upon politics again, and I can’t control him.”
Peggy listened for a moment to the highly colored language of the old
Tory. Mr. Dana, with a nervous glance about, proceeded in a lowered
tone:
“Such sentiments as his are not altogether popular in this part of the
town. Indeed, I don’t know but what they are actually dangerous.”
George Prentiss was watching the girl. There was a proud, perhaps even
a scornful lift to her chin; and now, when she, with much composure,
approached the furious old king’s man, his interest increased.
“Uncle,” she said. Instantly the torrent of heated words stopped and he
turned to her. “Please come away. You will make yourself ill.”
“In a moment, my dear,” returned Merchant Camp, “in just a moment.
First,” facing the throng, “I must try and bring these people back to
a sense of their duty. I must endeavor, as an honest man, to make them
see the scandal of their attempts to undermine the power of a kind
sovereign.”
“Kind,” cried a voice. “Kind, did you say, Master Camp?--and he hiring
Hessians and Brunswickers to cross the seas and murder us?”
“And why should he not?” the old Tory demanded. “Why should he not?
Is it not given to him to chastise his rebellious rascals in whatever
manner he will? Who are you--what are you that you should oppose the
king’s desires, whatever they may be? A pack of scurvy villains, most
of you. A parcel of rogues that should be ironed in the hold of one of
yonder frigates. If I had the will of you, I’d----”
But here he was interrupted by the bull throated seaman, who had by
this time risen to his feet.
“Belay, master,” said he. “The time has gone by when such as you can
hector us as you please. It would be better for you if you kept your
tongue between your teeth, old gentleman,” added the sailor. “As the
matter rests, if you were a younger man, I’d try something else on you
beside words.”
“What, you rascal!” sputtered the king’s man, wrathfully, “would you
threaten me?”
He lifted his staff and made a quavering blow at the other; the girl
cried out sharply, as the seaman tore the weapon from the old man’s
hands.
“You would, would you, you old walrus,” cried the brawny tar. And with
that he lifted his brawny fist. Once more the girl cried out. She
sprang between the two.
“For shame!” she cried.
But the brute in the seaman was aroused; with a rough push he forced
her aside; then he took a menacing step toward the old man, his hand
lifted once more.
This time he found himself face to face with George Prentiss, who had
leaped from the deck of the shallop at the girl’s first cry.
“What, sailor,” cried the young man, placing one hand against the tar’s
broad chest, “a fair and fit lad like yourself is surely not going to
grapple with an old man.”
“That he’s an old un is not my fault,” growled the other; “so get out
of the way, my hearty, before I hurt you.”
But young Prentiss laughed.
“As for that,” he said, “you may be able. But then again, you may
not.” Then over his shoulder he spoke swiftly to Mr. Dana, “Take him
away--and the young lady, too.”
The seaman’s hard face had darkened. “So, my young ship-jack,” said
he, “you’ve got your doubts, have you? You don’t think, then,” with a
sneer, “that you’re as much too young as the other is too old?”
“Not in the least,” said George, still good humoredly. “But
nevertheless, sailor, we’ll try to pass it all by. No harm has been
done any one; so we’ll say no more about it.”
“He’s trying to get the weather gauge of you, Ben,” called one of the
seamen. “Belay the jaw-tackle and give him your starboard gun.”
“Ay, ay,” chorused the others, while the assemblage voiced their
approval. “Rake him, mate.”
But the tar did not require encouragement; he shoved his face within an
inch or two of the youth’s and said:
“King’s men are not liked, my hearty, in New York port, no matter if
they be old or young.” And with that he made a short, wicked chop at
the young fellow’s head. But George evaded it like a flash, and both
his fists began to drub at the tar’s stomach and ribs. Then as the man
swung once more for his head, the youth leaped out of distance; but
like a flash he closed in with a driving hit to the body, followed by
a perfect fusillade of shorter punches. Again he drew back; the tar,
breathless and gasping, stood still and gazed at him.
“You’re well braced and bolted, sailor,” said George, still smilingly.
“I’ve seen them strike under less than that.”
“Well, it’ll not be me, my lad,” gasped Ben Buntline. “You’re a good
hand, but look to yourself.”
And with that he rushed in, his thick arms swinging like flails. But
George stepped briskly to and fro; none of the blows seemed to come
within a foot of him; and so ludicrous did the seaman’s attempts to
strike him become that the gathering began to hoot and cheer. This not
only angered the man himself, but also his mates. They arose at once;
several drew their knives, while one exclaimed:
“What, you land sharks, will you make game of us!”
One or two rushed to the assistance of their friends; and seeing this,
the smile vanished from George’s face; he began striking with a speed
and power that soon brought his antagonist to his knees. But just then
there came the tramp of hoofs upon the stones of the wharf, and the
voice of Mr. Dana cried thinly:
“It’s Herbert! This way, lieutenant, this way!”
The crowd scattered; the seamen quickly grasped the situation, for
they picked up their dazed comrade and bustled him away just as a troop
of mounted militia rode up.
The officer at the head of the party was a heavy-browed, sullen looking
young man in a lieutenant’s dress. As none now remained of the throng
save George, this person rode up to him and said curtly:
“Well, sir, and is General Putnam’s plain order against rioting not
enough for you? Do you require to be personally warned?”
George Prentiss looked quietly into the frowning face.
“Perhaps,” said he, “it would be as well for you to inform yourself as
to what has taken place.”
The lieutenant was about to make an ugly rejoinder, but just then the
girl came forward.
“Brother,” she said, and it seemed to George that the proud lift of her
chin was more accentuated than it had been before, “this gentleman is
in no way to blame. If it had not been for his kindness, we might have
fared rather badly.”
Here Merchant Camp also came forward. “Nephew,” said he to the colonial
lieutenant, and his voice was not without a trace of humor, “I had not
thought to ever welcome any one who wore that uniform. But I was well
enough pleased to see you just now. As for the youth, it’s just as your
sister says. He’s a fine up-standing fellow, whoever he is, and I shall
be delighted to see more of him.”
Here he shook George warmly by the hand, and proceeded:
“Very like you know the business place of Mr. Dana. If you have nothing
better to do some day, pray come and see me there. I shall think it a
kindness.”
The merchant remained in conversation with George, while the
lieutenant, dismounting, dismissed his troop in charge of a sergeant;
then leading his horse, he walked up the wharf at the side of his
sister. When old Camp had said good-bye and also gone stumping up the
wharf, Mr. Dana brought his wrinkled, high-featured face close to the
young man’s.
“Don’t forget,” said he, “it’s the ‘Wheat Sheaf,’ and the time is nine
to-morrow night.”
And so he limped after his partner with many a backward glance and nod.