SHOWS HOW THE CONCERT WAS INTERRUPTED
When George Prentiss and Peggy Camp reached the inn, they found it
brilliant with lights, festoons of green branches and laurels hung all
about; holly berries gleamed redly against their backgrounds of somber
leaves. The public rooms were alive with merrymakers; the gleaming
costumes of the ladies mingled with the rich European uniforms of the
German and English officers. Bright looks and happy laughter were
everywhere; the beloved band of Colonel Rahl throbbed through a German
waltz.
Peggy instantly sought out Mrs. Hawksworth; what explanation she made
of her absence, George did not know; but he noted that both Mrs.
Hawksworth and her cold-faced husband looked at him searchingly.
It was then past midnight; George was on fire to be off that he might
watch for Washington’s coming; but he knew that this would be both
dangerous and useless, and so he remained where he was.
The clock struck two, and then pointed to the half hour before Peggy
came to him again.
“They forbade me speaking to you until they had heard and understood
everything concerning my escapade, as they call it,” she laughed. “And
so I had to steal away.” Then, eagerly: “What have you heard? Are they
really coming?”
“I have heard nothing,” said George. “We can’t hope to get news before
the last moment. The rifles will then tell us what we are to expect.”
“I can’t get the picture of those great blocks of ice out of my mind,”
she said, with a shudder. “And then the river looked so dark and so
deep. And it was so cold and pitiless.”
They stood by one of the windows at the front of the inn; the room,
save for a few other couples, was deserted. Through an open doorway at
one side they could see the dancers whirl by; also there came the gleam
of the brass instruments and the high-colored uniforms of the bandsmen.
Another open door showed the numerous parties grouped about the tables
engrossed in their game. Colonel Rahl was among those nearest the door;
opposite him sat Mr. Hawksworth, and grouped about the table were
numerous officers and Tory residents of quality.
“The colonel is ill prepared, should things go as we wish,” whispered
George.
“The worse prepared, the better for our friends,” said Peggy, sagely.
The snow all about the inn was packed hard by the steady tramping of
the Hessian guard. Under a beefy sergeant they kept all intruders at
a distance; the squeaking of their boots and the clanking of their
equipment were constant.
Three o’clock struck, and it was some time afterward that George
became aware of an altercation going on outside the window where they
sat. Since seeing Hyde and Henderson he had kept himself much in the
background, but all matters in any way unusual were quick to draw his
attention. So he turned at once to see what was going forward.
The beefy sergeant and a number of his men were grouped outside;
in their midst was a burly figure with a face blood-clotted, a
shirt-frill crimson and with the bearing of one about to sink down from
exhaustion. His legs seemed to sag beneath him; his big head weakly
swayed from side to side; his hands pawed at the Hessians in an effort
to hold himself erect.
“Slade!” exclaimed George, under his breath. And as he said it, he
stepped back from the window, drawing Peggy away also. “He’s slipped
out of the things I tied him up with.”
“Does he suspect anything, do you think?” whispered the girl. “Did he
hear what we said as we talked by the fire?”
“Perhaps.”
“And he’s here to give warning.” She drew in her breath in a great
frightened gasp, and her eyes were fixed upon the blood-smeared man
swaying so weakly in the snow.
“Colonel Rahl!” they heard him say. “Colonel Rahl!”
“Well, what about him?” demanded the fat sergeant, waving away the
pawing hands.
“I must see him--at once.”
The sergeant laughed. His men, who understood almost no English,
looked at Slade with stolid indifference.
“You must see him,” said the sergeant “Plenty peoples think the same as
yourself to-night.” He waved a hand. “Poof! Get away!”
“I tell you I must see him,” said Slade.
“Make me no troubles,” advised the Hessian sergeant. “Get away, or
you’ll feel der ramroad your back across.”
“I have business with him--important business.”
“Der colonel no business listens to, to-night yet,” stated the beefy
sergeant.
“He’ll listen to this,” cried Slade, desperately, almost sinking down
in the snow from very weakness. “Ask him to give me a moment.”
But the sergeant, bored, gestured him away. Two of the men seized him
by the shoulder.
“Wait!” cried Slade. “Just a moment.”
From his pockets he took a number of broad gold pieces; and at sight of
them the sergeant’s eyes shone.
“These are yours,” said Slade, “if you carry a note to your colonel.”
The sergeant nodded.
“Business so important as dot,” grinned he, “must be attended to, a
little.”
At a command of the sergeant, one of the soldiers brought an ink pot
and a quill from the headquarters across the way; with weak, numbed
fingers, Slade scrawled a few lines upon a sheet of paper.
“Take that to him,” he said. “That will answer, I think.”
The sergeant accepted the note and the gold pieces.
“Inside,” said he, pointing to headquarters, “a fire is by der hall. Go
there and wait. When I der time get, I’ll give this to der colonel.”
“You will be sure?”
“You will wait der fire beside,” stated the fat sergeant. “To my own
affairs I will attend myself.”
As there was nothing to be gained by insistence, Slade turned and
limped slowly across the street; then the door opened and closed behind
him.
“If he gives that note to Colonel Rahl,” breathed Peggy, “it may
destroy everything.”
“It’s half-past three,” replied George, quietly, looking at his watch.
“The army has more than likely now reached this side of the river.”
“Oh, do you think so!”
“I do. But,” and there was an anxious note in his voice, “for all that,
if the message did not come under the eyes of Rahl, it would be much
better.”
Here came a loud shout of laughter from Rahl. He had won. His face was
flushed and exultant.
“Ach!” he shouted. “I have not yet forgotten the game.” Then noting
that his band had ceased playing he added, with a frown: “What is the
matter with the music? Eh? Tell them to play. What do I pay the swine
for?” Then to his companions, “Come, deal, deal----”
Muddled, excited, engrossed in his game, the leader of the Hessians had
no thought of his trust; had any one spoken of an American attack at
that moment, he would have been treated as one beneath contempt. On and
on went the game, the dance and the throbbing of the band; the minutes
passed and grew in number; the long hand of young Prentiss’ watch
climbed slowly upward.
“Four o’clock,” he said at last to Peggy, who sat huddled in her cloak
in the outer room. “It would seem that the sergeant has forgotten
Slade’s note entirely.”
That Slade had arrived at this conclusion also was at that moment
made evident; he came out of the headquarters across the way, his
face cleansed of the blood stains and seeming much stronger. At once
he accosted the fat sergeant. That worthy gazed at him stupidly for a
moment; his naturally sluggish brain had been rendered more so than
ever by the cold of the early morning; then he remembered.
“Ach! Donner und blitz!” he cried. “I have not der colonel spoken to
yet. But I will. Stand here der door by.”
So saying, he entered the outer room where George and Peggy stood alone
by the fire. The sergeant saluted awkwardly; he was a plain man, and
the lights and beautiful women in the rooms beyond rather bewildered
him.
Instantly Peggy was at his side, smiling and bewitching.
“Did you want anything, sergeant?”
Again the fat man’s hand went to his hat.
“A message for der colonel, Fräulein,” he said. “But,” with a glance
toward the card room, “he don’t like to be disturbed when he blays. So
I will wait.”
He had turned to go when Peggy stopped him.
“A message,” she said, insinuatingly. “It might be important. Give it
to me.”
“You will hand it to him, Fräulein?” eagerly.
“To be sure--and before very long.”
“Danke schön.” The man went out, leaving Slade’s note in her hand.
George looked at her; there was admiration in his face.
“That was very clever,” he said.
“It was necessary,” answered Peggy, and she laughed.
“But you promised to give it to Rahl,” said George, his eyes now on the
message.
“I know. And I will--but not until it is too late to do harm.”
Again they stood together before the hearth, watching the curling
flames and the darting sparks. Then suddenly he reared his head, as he
became aware of a jarring, far-off sound. His eyes went to the window;
a Hessian guard had paused in his monotonous tramping and stood as
though listening. Again it came, a sullen jarring, far off, yet somehow
plain.
“What was that?” Peggy’s hand was on his arm.
“I don’t know. And yet it sounds like----” he paused as the sound came
again. “Yes, it is! It is volley firing!”
“They are here!” She bent her head to catch the sound. “But it seems so
far off.”
“That is because of the snow. They are firing on the outposts, and none
of these are stationed more than a half mile outside the town.”
At once she left his side and started toward the room where Rahl sat.
And as she did so, the tired musicians began to play once more.
“Where are you going?” George was at her side.
But she did not answer in words; between her fingers he saw the
crumpled scrawl of the Tory, Slade; and as she held it up, it replied
eloquently.
He followed her. The men and women about the table were eagerly
absorbed in the game; the room was hot, and crowded with onlookers. As
the girl paused beside Colonel Rahl, several players lifted their heads
surprisedly; the idlers as though they felt that something was about to
occur came a step nearer to the Hessian leader’s table.
“Colonel Rahl,” said the girl.
The man turned his flushed face toward her. She held out the paper.
“A message,” she said. “Your sergeant brought it.”
“Ah, yes; I will see to it.”
He took the note and stuffed it feverishly into his breast pocket,
never once looking at it; then he gave his attention once more to the
game.
George noted that the candles were beginning to grow dim; and this
told him that dawn was at hand. Above the blare of the brass throated
instruments he fancied more than once that he caught the scattering
discharge of small arms. At length, unable to stand the suspense, he
turned to leave the room; and as he did so, came face to face with
Major Hyde. A sarcastic smile lit the man’s cold eyes.
“It is something of a surprise,” said he. “But, nevertheless, I am very
glad to see you.” Then in a loud tone he added: “Colonel Rahl, if you
will summon the guard, I’ll give this spy in charge.”
“Spy!” Men and women sprang to their feet; swords were drawn, chairs
were overturned. With a swift look over his shoulder George saw Peggy’s
face whiten; then like a panther he sprang upon Hyde. Down went the man
as though stricken by a thunderbolt; over his body leaped the young
New Englander. As he did so the outer door was flung open and the fat
sergeant bounced into the inn.
“Der feind!” he roared. A volley of musketry rolled through the
streets. “Der feind!”
George flashed by him and gained the street; out of the inn poured Rahl
and his officers, excited, confused, buttoning up their greatcoats and
feeling for their swords.
“Heraus!” shouted Rahl, flashing his blade from its sheath. “Heraus!”
The cry was taken up by the officers; the Hessians, heavy eyed, gorged
with feasting and totally unfit for battle, thronged out of the warm
houses into the bitter night. Drums were beating; the town was roaring
with fright.
A group of artillerymen formed behind the half circle of guns before
Rahl’s headquarters; their matches were lighted and they waited for the
word that would scatter death into the onrushing Americans. But there
was no officer collected enough to give it; and in another instant the
gunners were bayoneted at their posts.
George Prentiss saw two forces of Americans, coming from different
directions, form a junction; at their heads he recognized Sullivan and
the commander-in-chief himself. Seizing the musket of a fallen Hessian,
he joined the massed column. A battery of six guns under Forest was
drawn up and opened upon Rahl and his frantic brigade at a few hundred
paces.
“Hot work,” said a voice at George’s side. And turning he saw the forms
of Ezra and Nat Brewster. Ben Cooper, his chubby cheek pressed against
a rifle-barrel, was drawing a bead upon an enemy.
“Glad to see you’re all right,” he nodded to George. “But I’ll tell you
more about it later on.”
Under the galling fire of Forest’s artillery, Rahl drew his men off to
the east side of the town. Hand’s riflemen took up a place in his rear
while he was forming his command. Desperate fighters that they were,
the mercenaries still had a chance to escape. But they so despised the
Americans, and their quarters in the town were so stowed with plunder,
that they determined to stand their ground. Rahl gave the word to
charge. The Americans braced to meet them, their rifles held ready.
“Steady! Steady!” ran through the columns. “Hold your fire.”
In spite of this a scattering of bullets met the Hessians as they
began their charge. Even in the dawn, the face of Washington shone
with exultation. Ezra, who stood near him, heard him say to one of his
officers:
“They are gorged like animals and cannot fight long. After the first
volley, we’ll give them the bayonet.”
A moment later he lifted his hand; the order to fire was given, and the
onrushing Hessians began to fall. Through the dimness and smoke George
saw Rahl press a hand to his side and sway in his saddle.
“He’s hit!” cried the lad.
And no sooner had the words left his mouth than the Hessian leader
pitched forward under his horse’s feet. Dismayed at his fall, the
mercenaries faltered; then the hardy colonials broke upon them with
sword, bayonet and pistol; but the sluggish, overfed foreigners had
no stomach for hard fighting and in a few moments the cry went up for
quarter; and then to a man they threw down their arms.
* * * * *
It was high noon before the last batch of prisoners had been banded
together to be sent across the river; and half the American force was
busy in making ready the Hessian stores and plunder for transportation.
Now and then a shot rang out which told of a detected looter, or an
unearthed enemy; but for the most part the streets were quiet.
Private property, by Washington’s strict order, was in every way
protected. Before the Hawksworth mansion paced a guard of stalwart
continentals; within was gathered a party which laughed and talked
joyously. Stout old Merchant Camp shook Ezra Prentiss by the hand for
perhaps the tenth time.
“And so you are Seth’s other grandson, eh? Well, well! And both of you
hold to Washington and the Congress, you say! Were there ever such
times in the world before!”
“And grandfather, too, don’t forget that,” laughed Ezra.
But the staunch old Tory did not laugh.
“So Seth has gone over, too! Well, every man to his own beliefs. I am
alone among you, but,” and his stubborn old head lifted high, “I’m a
king’s man still, and will be to the end.”
Peggy and her brother, Herbert, together with young Brewster, Ben
Cooper and George, were grouped at the fireside. First Peggy would look
at George and then at Ezra.
“I am almost frightened, Cousin George,” she said in an awed sort of
way, “when I look at you both. You look so much alike that it’s really
uncanny.”
The heavy-browed Herbert, who proved a most companionable fellow, said
to Ben, aside:
“They look alike, but it is not possible that Ezra is as great a fellow
as George. It would be expecting too much.”
But Ben waved the notion aside at once.
“There is no greater chap than Ezra Prentiss in the army,” said he.
“And after you’ve come to know him, you’ll say so yourself.”
“No, no,” said old Mr. Camp to something which Ezra had just remarked.
“Howe is at New York; I’ll go back there; that is the place for me.”
“You’ll probably meet with Cousin Hyde and his friend Henderson there,”
said Peggy. “Mr. Brewster has just been telling me that they escaped.”
“A pair of rascals, my dear,” said the old gentleman. “I want nothing
to do with them.”
“You will go back to New York also, I suppose,” said George to Peggy.
“No,” she said, proudly. “I have lived my last under British rule.
Herbert will take me to Philadelphia.”
“Then,” spoke Ezra, “we’ll see you often, more than likely, for, if the
indications are to be trusted, the army will be thereabouts for some
time to come.”
Other Stories in this Series are:
THE YOUNG CONTINENTALS AT LEXINGTON
THE YOUNG CONTINENTALS AT BUNKER HILL
THE YOUNG CONTINENTALS AT MONMOUTH
(In Press)
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.