"Ah! never shall the land forget
How gushed the life-blood of her brave--
Gushed, warm with hope and valor yet,
Upon the soil they fought to save."
--"The Battle-Field," Bryant.
"It is not true," burst from the English girl. "It can't be. Met Colonel
Tarleton and utterly routed him? Impossible!"
"It doth indeed seem too good to be true," cried Peggy.
"Impossible or not, it hath really happened," answered Drayton, laughing
gleefully at their amazement. "I was detailed, at my own request, to
bring the news to Congress. I wanted to see if you were in truth safe in
your own home, Peggy. Another express riding at speed hath gone on to
General Washington with the tidings. The victory hath gladdened every
countenance and paved the way for the salvation of the country."
"Begin at the beginning and tell all and everything," commanded Peggy.
"But first let the lad make himself comfortable," interposed Mrs. Owen.
"He is tired and weary, I doubt not. Take his hat and cloak, Peggy,
while I bring him a chair. Harriet, tell Sukey to hasten with the
dinner."
"Has thee become a macaroni[[2]], John, that thee has such a fine
cloak?" queried Peggy as she relieved Drayton of his beaver and
roquelaure.
"With these clothes?" asked the youth quizzically. For the removal of
the cloak exposed a very shabby uniform to view. "That roquelaure became
mine by what you might call impressment, and 'thereby hangs a tale'
which you shall hear anon. But now for Cowpens."
"Yes; let us hear about Cowpens," cried Peggy eagerly. "Oh! I can scarce
wait the telling."
"It happened after this fashion," began Drayton settling himself with a
sigh of satisfaction in the chair Mrs. Owen had brought. "Lord
Cornwallis began again his march toward North Carolina with the first of
the year. So General Greene detached Brigadier-General Morgan to harass
the left flank of the British, and to threaten Ninety Six. We annoyed
Cornwallis so much that he sent Colonel Tarleton with the light infantry
and some cavalry to push us to the utmost.
"Colonel Tarleton advanced up the west side of the Broad River, while
his lordship proceeded up the east side; the plan being for him to fall
upon us should we attempt to recross and retreat into North Carolina.
Well, I am bound to say that Colonel Tarleton did press us hard. So much
so that we fell back before him until we reached the Cowpens, so called
because the cattle are here rounded up and branded. It lies about midway
between Spartanburg and the Cherokee Ford of the Broad River. The
position was both difficult and dangerous, and though General Morgan
didn't want to fight, he knew that the time had come when he had to.
"Well, what did the man do as we camped there the night before the
battle? Why, he went among the men as they sat about the camp-fires, and
told them he was going to fight and just what he wanted them to do. The
result was a glorious victory the next day.
"We rose early and breakfasted quietly, and then prepared to fight.
About eight o'clock the enemy came in sight and drew up in line of
battle. No sooner were they formed than they rushed forward shouting
like a lot of demons. 'Tis Colonel Tarleton's way of attack, and
ofttimes it scares the militia so that they become panic stricken, and
break and run. This was the time when they didn't.
"The militia received the first onslaught, fired two volleys and then
fell back, according to instructions. As they did so the British yelled
and shouted, and advanced in a run. And then you should have seen how
Pickens' sharpshooters got in their work. 'Wait until they are within
fifty yards,' they had been told, 'and then fire.' They followed their
orders to the letter, and picked off the men with the epaulettes until
the ranks of the British were demoralized by the loss of officers. Then
the second line cleared, and we regulars advanced, and charged. The next
thing any of us knew the British infantry threw away their arms, and
began to cry for quarter.
"Colonel Tarleton then ordered his dragoons to charge while he attempted
to rally the infantry, but the rout was too complete. When he found that
he could do nothing with the infantry, he made another struggle to get
his cavalry to charge, hoping to retrieve the day, but his efforts
proved fruitless. They forsook him, and went flying from the field of
battle. Colonel William Washington pursued them until evening, and on
his return drove before him a number of prisoners which he had collected
on the route.
"There were six hundred men captured; ten officers and more than a
hundred men killed, but Tarleton, I am sorry to say, escaped. All the
cannon, arms, equipage, music and everything fell into our hands, while
our loss was but twelve killed and sixty wounded. Oh, I tell you we were
jubilant! We crossed the river, making a détour to escape his lordship,
and brought our prisoners and booty safe to a junction with the main
army. General Greene was delighted over the victory, for the destruction
of Colonel Tarleton's force will cripple Cornwallis severely. After a
few more such victories I think his lordship will realize that he no
longer hath a Gates to deal with."
"Is it not wonderful?" broke in Peggy. "Oh, I knew that something would
happen soon to cheer us up! It hath always been so from the beginning of
the Revolution. There was Trenton in '76, just when every one thought
the country lost; and Saratoga in '77, when our own dear city was in the
hands of the British. Whenever it hath been so dark that it seemed as
though we could not press forward something hath always occurred to
renew our courage. I can see it all!" she cried enthusiastically. "The
swamps, and the trees with the marksmen hidden behind them; the river,
and the palmettos; the swift rush of the soldiers through the trees, and
then the crash of arms, and victory!"
"I thought you were a Quaker," sneered Harriet. "Do Friends so delight
in warfare?"
"But I am a patriot too," cried Peggy. "I can't help but feel glad that
we were victorious, although I am not sorry that Colonel Tarleton
escaped, as thee is, John. He was so good to me. Had it not been for him
I would not have been home."
"It is utterly impossible," came from Harriet again. "Colonel Tarleton
never did meet defeat, and I don't believe that he ever will. 'Tis some
quidnunc story got up to keep the rebels fighting. And if it were true,
you are cruel to rejoice when father may have been in the action. Or
Clifford."
"But the Welsh Fusileers, thy father's regiment, stay always with Lord
Cornwallis, do they not?" queried Peggy, whose residence among the
British had taught her much concerning such matters. "And as for thy
brother, Clifford, thee does not know where he is."
"No; I don't know," answered the English girl tearfully. "I would I did.
But he might have been there. He is somewhere in these revolted
colonies, and it's cruel to be so glad when he might be among those who
are killed, or wounded." She flung herself back among the pillows of the
settle as she finished speaking, and gave way to a passion of tears.
"But you would rejoice at an English victory, Mistress Harriet," spoke
Lieutenant Drayton in surprise. The Harriet he remembered would have
scorned to betray such weakness. "We do not exult over those who are
slain or wounded, but we do delight in the fact that liberty is advanced
whenever we win a battle. And we care for the wounded, even though they
are foes. Also," he added, his brow darkening, "we give quarter, and
your people do not."
"'Tis a great price to pay for freedom," remarked Mrs. Owen sadly. "And
yet there are times when it can be obtained in no other way."
"But to--to say that they r-ran," sobbed Harriet. "The British wouldn't
run."
"Oh, wouldn't they?" observed the lieutenant dryly. "These ran like
foxes when the hounds are after them. And they took to cover worse than
any militia I ever saw. But there!" he concluded. "What doth it matter?
We whipped them badly."
"Harriet hath been ill, John," explained Peggy in a low tone. "Thee must
not mind what she says."
"I don't," returned he good-naturedly. "There was never much love lost
between us, as she knows, though I am sorry that she hath been ill. Are
you as busy as ever, Peggy?"
"The dinner is ready, John," spoke Mrs. Owen as Sukey came to the door
with the announcement. "Thee must be hungry. Come now, and eat. And thee
must make thy home with us while in the city. It would give us great
pleasure."
"Thank you, madam. I will accept gladly, though it will be but for a day
or two. There will be return despatches from Congress to General Greene.
I must go back as soon as the gentlemen have finished with me. I wait
upon them this afternoon."
"Then thee won't be able to go with the girls to see the skating,"
remarked the lady leading the way to the dining-room.
"If they finish with me soon I will join them," he answered. "My! how
good this table looks! 'Tis not often that I sit down to a meal like
this."
"I wonder how you poor soldiers can fight so well when you have so
little to eat," she said soberly. "'Tis in my mind often."
"Perhaps we fight the better for being hungry," he returned lightly. "We
have to get filled up on something, you know. Supplies are in truth hard
to come by. Clothing as well as food. General Greene went before the
legislatures of all the states he passed through on his way South to
plead that men, clothing, food and equipment might be forthcoming for
the campaign. There is woeful remissness somewhere. Why, some of our
poor fellows haven't even a shirt to their backs."
"And I have made twelve myself since I came back," exclaimed Peggy
proudly. "And mother as many more. Mistress Reed hath twenty-two hundred
to send to the Pennsylvania line now."
"No wonder 'Dandy Wayne' is so proud of his men," sighed the youth with
a certain wistfulness in his voice. "The Pennsylvania line is the best
dressed of any of the Continentals, and all because the women of the
state look after their soldiers. Would that the other states would do as
well!"
"Lieutenant Drayton," spoke Harriet suddenly. She had quite recovered
her composure by this time. "Peggy did not tell you that I have made a
shirt too."
"Not for the patriots?" he asked amazed.
"Yes; for the rebels," she replied.
"Come!" he cried gayly. "You are improving. We will have a good patriot
out of you yet."
"Perhaps," she responded graciously, a roguish gleam coming into her
eyes. "Are you in need of shirts, lieutenant?"
Drayton's face flushed, and then he laughed.
"I am not as badly off as some of our poor fellows, Mistress Harriet,
but they would not come amiss. Why?"
"Because," said she speaking deliberately, "if you will accept it, I
should like to give you the shirt that I made."
"To give it to me?" he queried astonished. He had always known that
Harriet disliked him, and therefore could not understand this sudden
mark of favor. "To give it to me?"
"Yes; to you. Will you promise to wear it if I give it to you?"
"Oh, Harriet," came from Peggy reproachfully, but John Drayton answered
with a puzzled look:
"I shall most certainly wear the garment if you give it to me, mistress,
and feel highly complimented in so doing."
"I will hold you to your word, sir," cried Harriet. With that she ran
out of the room but soon returned with the garment in question. "There!"
she said holding it up so that he could read the embroidered
inscription. "See to what you have pledged yourself, John Drayton."
A twinkle came into his eyes, but he took the shirt from her, holding it
tightly as he said:
"I shall abide by my word. And what think you the British would say if
they saw what is here embroidered? This, mistress: 'That 'tis small
wonder the rebels are successful when even our own women help to keep
them in supplies.'"
"Oh, give it back," she exclaimed in consternation. "I did not think of
that."
"Nay; a bargain is a bargain." Drayton folded up the shirt with a
decided gesture. "You were trying to put up a 'take in' on me, but it
hath redounded on yourself. Stand by your word, mistress."
"He hath thee, Harriet," cried Peggy laughing.
"I don't care," answered Harriet tossing her head. "'Tis across the
shoulders, and if ever I hear of its being seen I shall know that he
turned his back to the foe."
"Then you have heard the last of it, for that I will never do," said the
lad solemnly.
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[2] Macaroni--a dandy.