It was a lively battle, indeed, for the British, being considerably
stronger than the patriots, evidently thought they could defeat them,
but the defenders were in a strategically good position. They sent back
volley for volley, and had the advantage of the field-pieces, and so
after a battle of about an hour and a half the redcoats retreated,
carrying their dead and wounded with them.
The patriot loss was twelve killed and sixteen wounded, and they were
pretty sure that the British had suffered a greater loss than this.
When the battle was over, it was found by the soldiers in Captain
Morgan’s company that Tom Dare was missing. At first it was feared that
he had been killed, but his body was not found, and when the captain
made inquiries of the youth’s comrades, they said that they did not
remember having seen him during the battle.
Ben Foster had not thought anything about this at the time, but now he
remembered that Tom had not been by his side, and he could not think
what had become of him.
Nor had Tim Murphy or Fritz Schmockenburg seen Tom, and they, like Ben,
were uneasy regarding him.
There was only one possible solution, that Ben could think of, and that
was, that Tom had slipped away and gone to the British encampment, in
the hope that he might be able to rescue Dick, while the British were
away.
The more Ben thought of this, the more certain he became that this was
where Tom had gone, and he asked Captain Morgan to permit him to go to
the British encampment and reconnoiter. He thought that if Tom had gone
there, he might need assistance.
The captain consented that Ben should go, but urged due caution.
“I will exercise care, sir,” was the reply.
Then Ben took his departure, and made his way in the direction of the
enemy’s camp. When he reached the vicinity of the old schoolhouse, where
Herbert Miller had taught, he was surprised and attacked suddenly by
about a dozen redcoats, who rushed out of the schoolhouse, and was made
a prisoner.
He was ordered to enter the schoolhouse, where he found a number of
British soldiers lying on blankets, many so severely wounded that it had
been thought best to leave them there, fearing they could not be safely
taken a further distance. The other soldiers, who had seized Ben, had
been left there to take care of the wounded.
Ben was placed on a bench, his hands tied together behind his back, and
one of the redcoats asked him who he was and where he was going.
“I live in this vicinity,” said Ben. “I was on my way to the
settlement.”
The redcoat laughed sneeringly. “That will do to tell,” he said. “But I
don’t believe you. You are a rebel and were on your way to spy on the
British army.”
“You are wrong,” said Ben.
“I don’t think so. I guess I shall have to take you to General Arnold.”
Ben made no reply, and the redcoat, who wore a lieutenant’s uniform,
summoned a couple of soldiers, ordering them to take the prisoner to the
British encampment, and to General Arnold.
“And don’t let him escape on the way there,” was the caution. “I am
inclined to think he is a rebel spy.”
“He won’t get away,” was the reply, and the two redcoats set out, with
Ben walking between them.
At first they held to his arms, but when they had gone a little
distance, they changed their positions, one walking in front and one
behind Ben, and without holding to him.
Doubtless they thought that the prisoner would not think of trying to
escape, with his hands bound. But Ben at once made up his mind to try to
get away. He was an exceedingly swift runner, and he believed that even
with his hands bound, he could outrun any redcoat, the majority of whom,
in the lower ranks, were clumsy fellows. So watching till they came to a
point where the ground sloped away, making it easy for speeding, Ben
suddenly leaped backward against the soldier behind him, upsetting the
fellow, who had not been expecting anything of this kind. Then Ben
dashed away, down the slope at the top of his speed.
“After him!” yelled the redcoat who had been upset, as he scrambled
hastily to his feet and drew a pistol. “Don’t let him escape.”
The other had heard his comrade give utterance to an exclamation as he
went down, and had whirled just after Ben dashed away. Now he set out in
pursuit, with the other redcoat eight or ten yards behind.
Down the slope Ben ran with great swiftness, when the fact is taken into
consideration that his wrists were tied together behind his back, and he
held his own against his pursuers. They were not able to gain on him.
On he ran, and when he had gone perhaps half a mile, he suddenly came to
the edge of the high bank of a creek that probably emptied into the
James River. It was at least thirty feet down to the water, and being
unable to stop, Ben went over the edge of the bank. Down he shot, a
distance of perhaps ten or twelve feet, where he struck on an outjutting
ledge about four feet wide, and fell. Fortunately he rolled toward the
face of the creek-bank, the ledge sloping downward, and kept on rolling
till he was several feet inside a cave. And just then down came a great
mass of earth and bushes, covering the ledge and choking up the entrance
to the cave, shutting out the light and making it almost as dark as
night within. Some heavy stones, with a great splash, fell into the
water of the creek.
The redcoats had stopped before reaching the edge of the bank, and
approaching cautiously to the point where the bank had caved off, looked
down. They saw the great mass of earth extending from the ledge on down
to the creek, and seeing nothing of Ben, one suggested that he had been
buried under the miniature landslide, and was now smothered to death.
But this idea was scouted as unlikely, rather it was thought that the
runaway had fallen into the water and was drowned. They discussed the
matter a few moments, the sound of their voices coming to Ben’s hearing
in faint murmurs, and then they turned and made their way back toward
the schoolhouse, with the intention, doubtless, of reporting to the
lieutenant.
Ben had kept quiet while the redcoats were talking about the affair, his
thought being that he did not want to be recaptured, but when they had
gone, he realized that he was imprisoned in a cave, with his hands
bound, was practically helpless, and would likely have to remain there a
prisoner and die of starvation and thirst. He shuddered, and a cold
perspiration broke out over his body.
He wished, now, that he had called out to the redcoats. He would have
been again made a prisoner, true, but he would have had the hope of
getting away later on, while as the matter stood now, he did not see
that he had any chance whatever to escape with his life.
Imprisoned in a cave, the entrance to which was covered several inches
thick with earth, and with his arms bound, how could he hope to make his
escape? A feeling of despair took hold of him.