"The way is long, my children, long and rough,
The moors are dreary, the woods are dark;
But he that creeps from cradle on to grave,
Unskil'd save in the velvet course of fortune,
Hath miss'd the discipline of noble hearts."
--Old Play.
How could he do it? the girl asked herself as she made her way with
unseeing eyes back to her cousin's dwelling. After all his years of
service, after enduring hardships that would tax any man's soul to the
utmost, to desert now. What had become of the spirit that had carried
him through all that dreadful march through the wilderness to Quebec?
Where was the enthusiasm that had sustained him through the disastrous
campaigns of South Carolina? Oh, it was past all belief!
Many patriots, she knew, had come to consider the American cause
hopeless; many of the best men were weary of the long war; many also had
lost interest because of the French Alliance; but that John Drayton had
deserted because he had been sent to serve under the Marquis de
Lafayette she could not believe. Had he not told her with exultation at
Middlebrook that he was to be in that same Marquis's corps of light
infantry?
That was not the reason, she told herself miserably. It was plain to her
that he had heard from the traitor Arnold who, to add to his infamy, had
sought repeatedly to corrupt the men of his former command. Undoubtedly
Drayton had been won from his allegiance through his affection for his
old leader.
Harriet and Clifford cantered to the gate just as she was entering the
door of the dwelling. Harriet called to her gleefully as she dismounted:
"You should have gone with us, Peggy. 'Twas vastly enjoyable. What think
you? Lord Cornwallis himself rode with us for a time. He is to dine with
father on Monday. Why! what hath happened?" she broke off at sight of
her cousin's pale cheeks and woe-filled eyes.
"She hath seen the Yankee captain," exclaimed Clifford joining them. "Is
not that the trouble, my cousin?"
"Yes," assented Peggy drearily. "I saw him, Clifford. Oh!" with sudden
enlightenment, "was his desertion what thee was keeping from me?"
"That was it, Peggy. I knew that you would know that he had joined us
some time, but I hoped that it could be kept from you until you were
stronger."
"Thee is very thoughtful," said Peggy her eyes filling at this kindness.
"Still, Clifford, 'tis as well to know it now. Time could not allay one
pang caused by treachery."
"Peggy," said her cousin abruptly, "you talked with him, did you not?"
"Yes, Clifford."
"And do you consider him sincere when he says that the reason for his
desertion is that he was sent to serve under the Marquis de Lafayette?"
"No," she returned apathetically. "No, Clifford."
"Ah!" he cried triumphantly. "I thought so. You think with me, then, my
little cousin, that the fellow is a spy?"
"A spy?" A light flashed into the girl's eyes, and she looked at him
eagerly. It faded as quickly as it came, however, and she shook her head
sadly. "He is no spy," she said. "I would he were, so that he was true
to liberty."
"Then I beg of you to tell me his true reason for deserting," he urged.
"I like him not; nay, nor do I trust him, yet if he be sincere in
renewing his allegiance to our king then I will give o'er my suspicions
regarding him."
"I believe that 'twas caused by General Arnold," she told him. "Last
spring when he was here in Williamsburg he boasted that John would soon
be fighting with him. He hath won him from his duty through his
affection, for John loved him greatly. I doubt not his sincerity," she
concluded with such anguish in her tones that Harriet was touched.
"He isn't worth a thought, Peggy," she cried. "And what else could you
expect from John Drayton?"
"She speaks truth, my cousin," said Clifford. "Desertions occur daily
from both sides. Those who are guilty of them are not persons actuated
by the highest motives. I would think no more of it."
"Don't," exclaimed the girl struggling for control. "He was my friend.
Thee must not speak of him like that. Oh!" she cried with a burst of
tears, "how shall I bear it?"
"Tell her how it occurred, Cliff," suggested Harriet. "She might just as
well know all about it."
"Yes, tell me," said Peggy looking up through her tears. "I want to know
everything to see if aught can justify him."
"It happened after this manner," began the youth complying with the
request with visible reluctance. "After the encounter with the rebels
the other day when they were retiring from us under a hot fire, what
does this fellow do all at once but dash from among them and come toward
us, crying: 'I'm going to cast in my lot with you fellows.'
"This seemed to incense his comrades greatly. They ceased to fire at us
and turned their muskets against him. 'Twas marvelous that he escaped
unhurt, but he did, and was received with cheers and shouts of
admiration by our troops. Odds life!" ejaculated the youth with grudging
approval, "he hath pluck enough when it comes to that, but I like not a
turncoat. 'Tis said that my Lord Cornwallis is much taken with him, and
hath declared that he would like a regiment like him. Pray heaven that
he doth not repent it. I never liked him, you remember, and still less
do I regard him now. I shall keep an eye on him."
"I thank thee for telling me about it, Clifford," said Peggy. "I think I
will go to my room. I--I am tired."
Seeing that the girl was losing command of herself her cousins permitted
her to leave them without further word, and at last Peggy could give way
to the sorrow that was overwhelming her.
The sun shone as brightly as of yore; the birds sang sweetly in the tree
tops, and flowers blossomed in the meadows; all the world of Nature went
on as before. For no act of man affects the immutable laws of the
universe, and with indifference to woe, or grief, or breach of trust
they fulfil their predestined designs though everything that makes life
dear may be slipping from one's grasp. Peggy was wondering dully at this
one morning, a few days later, as she went down to breakfast.
"Peggy," exclaimed Harriet startled by the girl's haggard looks, "you
will make yourself ill by so much grieving. I doubt that 'tis best for
you to keep your room as you do. Remember how you made me shake off the
megrims by exertion in Philadelphia? Well, I shall play the physician
now, and make you bestir yourself. She should, shouldn't she, father?"
Colonel Owen looked up from his place at the head of the table and
regarded the maiden disapprovingly.
"Peggy is a foolish little girl," he remarked with some sharpness.
"Captain Drayton hath returned to his true allegiance, and I see no
reason why such a show of grief should be deemed necessary. 'Tis not
only unseemly, but vastly indelicate as well. As for action, not only
she but all of us will have to move whether we choose or not. The army
goes on the march again to-morrow."
"Where, father?" asked Harriet in surprise. "Is 't not a sudden
determination on his lordship's part?"
"Somewhat. He hath received an express from General Sir Henry Clinton
which says that all movements of the rebel general indicate a
determination to attack New York City. Washington hath been joined by
the French troops, and the activities of the allies denote a settled
purpose which hath alarmed Sir Henry for the safety of the city.
Therefore, he desires the earl to send him some troops, which will leave
his lordship too weak to hold this place. In consequence we are off
to-morrow for Portsmouth across the James. Zounds!" he burst forth
grumblingly. "I don't mind campaigning in seasonable weather, but this
hot climate makes a move of any sort an exertion not to be undertaken
save by compulsion."
"Must we go, father?" pouted Harriet, "Could you not get leave of
absence, and continue here? We are so comfortable."
"Stay here to become a prisoner of war, my dear?" questioned her father
sarcastically. "Methought you were abreast of war news sufficiently to
know that that boy general of a Frenchman hath kept within a dozen miles
of us of late. The army will scarcely be out of here before he marches
in. Egad! but he needs a lesson. His lordship merely laughs when I tell
him so, and declares that the boy cannot escape him. He will attend to
him in time. Nay, Harriet; we shall have to go, though I confess to a
strong disinclination to move."
The occupation of Williamsburg by the army under Cornwallis lasted nine
days; that of Portsmouth was little more than thrice that time, for upon
the engineers reporting that the site was one that could not be
fortified the British general put his troops aboard such shipping as he
could gather and transferred them bodily to Yorktown. Here he set the
army and the negroes who had followed them to laying out lines of
earthworks, that he might hold the post with the reduced number of
troops that would be left him after detaching the reinforcements needed
by Clinton. And now ensued a pause in the daily excitements and
operations of the Virginia campaign.
Yorktown was not much more than a village. It had been an emporium of
trade before the Revolution, while Williamsburg was the capital of the
state. The site of the town was beautiful in the extreme, stretching
from east to west on the south side of the noble York River, a small
distance above where the river empties into Chesapeake Bay.
Both Peggy and Harriet rejoiced in the change, and much of their time
was spent on the high point of land to the east of the village which
gave outlook upon Chesapeake Bay, gazing at the wide expanse of water.
Upon several of these occasions Peggy encountered Drayton, but the two
merely looked at each other without speaking, the girl with eyes full of
reproach, the youth with an expression that was unfathomable. Harriet
now began to twit her unmercifully upon her change of attitude toward
him.
"It is too amusing," she said one day after one of these chance
meetings. "You were such friends at Middlebrook, Peggy, and now you will
not speak to him. All because he hath come to the conclusion that the
king hath the right of it."
"I have already told him how I feel anent the matter," answered Peggy
with a sigh. "There is no more to be said."
"Would I had been a mouse to have heard it," laughed Harriet. "Clifford
hath not even yet learned to trust him, though father chides him for his
feeling, and is disposed to make much of the captain. I think my brother
hath never got over the fear that he may have been in favor with me.
'Tis all vastly entertaining."
"Treachery never seems amusing to me," remarked Peggy quietly.
"I don't think I should term taking sides with the king treachery,"
retorted her cousin. "It seems to me that 'tis the other way. You, and
others with Whiggish notions, are the traitors. 'Tis an unnatural
rebellion."
"'Tis idle to speak so, Harriet, and useless to discuss it. We shall
never agree on the subject, and therefore what purpose is served by
talking of it?"
"Only this," rejoined Harriet mischievously, turning to note the effect
of her words upon her cousin: "we were speaking of Captain Drayton, were
we not? Well, Peggy, you will have to get over your feeling toward him,
for father hath invited him to dine with us to-morrow."
"Oh, Harriet!" gasped Peggy. "Why did he?"
"Because he thinks both you and Clifford need a lesson in politeness.
Clifford, because of his suspicions, and you because you do not speak to
him."
"Oh!" said Peggy in pained tones. "Would that he had not asked him.
'Twas thoughtless in Cousin William."
"I think father ought to have the right to ask whom he chooses to his
own house," declared Harriet, who was in one of her moods. "He says that
when one of these misguided rebels realizes his error and strives to
rectify it we should encourage him, so that others may follow his
example. I expect rare sport when you meet."
Peggy said no more, knowing how useless it would be to plead with either
Colonel Owen or Harriet once either had determined upon any course. So,
nerving herself for the ordeal, she went down to dinner the next day in
anything but a happy frame of mind.
To her surprise only Colonel Owen and Harriet were in the drawing-room.
There was no sign either of Clifford, or of John Drayton.
"Are you disappointed, Peggy?" asked Harriet with some sarcasm, catching
the girl's involuntary glance about the apartment. "So are we, and
father thinks it unpardonable in a guest to keep us waiting so. I always
said that Captain Drayton lacked manners."
Before Peggy could reply the door was flung open, and Clifford dashed
into the room.
"What in the world is the matter?" queried Harriet startled by his
manner of entrance. "One would think that you had affairs of state to
communicate that would brook no delay."
"And so I have," cried the lad with exultation. "Do not all of you
remember that I was not taken with that Yankee captain? Did I not say
from the beginning that he was not to be trusted? I was right, but no
one would heed me. I knew after the way he boasted the day we met with
the sword in Hanover that he was an unregenerate rebel, but my
suspicions were laughed at. I was right, I say."
"Clifford, what do you mean?" cried his sister. Peggy did not speak, but
stood waiting his next words with feverish eagerness, her breath coming
quickly, her eyes dilated, her hands clasped tightly.
"Go on, my son," spoke Colonel Owen with some impatience. "We all know
your feelings on the subject. What hath happened to verify such
suspicions?"
"Just this," answered he with triumph: "last night the fellow stole out
and met one of the enemy. In company with another officer I followed
after him as he stole through the lines. Beyond Wormeley's Creek the
meeting took place, and we apprehended him on his return. His spying
mission is over. He will do no more harm."
"Clifford!" shrieked Peggy. "What does thee mean?"
"That because he is a spy," cried Clifford, "he is condemned to die at
sunrise."