THE BATTLE OF GREAT BRIDGE
It would seem that the knowledge Maid Sally now carried under the
burning gold of her thick tresses was making a woman of her.
Very gay and glad at heart was she, for, had not the dearest dream of
her life come true? She was a high-born damsel, and--could it be
true?--the blood of her Fairy Prince was also in her veins.
But instead of being filled with foolish pride because of these things,
she said wisely to herself:
"Now must I study yet more, for I would not shame in any way the people
who are my people although they know me not. Some day they may know me
well."
And so the maiden plunged into her books anew, and also grew skilled in
embroidery, even copying the pattern on her mother's dainty cape, and
copying it well too, on a skirt of fine India muslin that had lain in
Mistress Brace's trunk.
A few weeks after the young Virginians had started for Boston there had
come a hard battle, even the battle of Bunker Hill.
And Hotspur had borne his young master to the distant colony barely in
time to take part in it, after first meeting his friends at the
turnpike.
In July, Sir Percival Grandison received from his son an account of the
hard contest. He told how all night he and his comrades, delicately
nurtured young men all, with soft hands and lions' hearts, had worked
with pick and shovel, and with the rank and file, in throwing up
breastworks. And so quietly was the work done that neither a sailor in
the near harbor, nor the British sentry but a little away, had heard a
sound.
"Although not a great victory for us," Lionel wrote, "we yet showed what
kind of men the British have to fight, and our untrained men put to
flight soldiers of long experience and training. We feel sure of victory
in the end."
One balmy night in August, Sally saw Mammy Leezer trundling up the road,
her red and yellow rabbit's ears, or points of her bandanna turban,
cocked high and important, her white cotton skirt stiff as starch could
make it, and her pipe no doubt in a deep pocket.
Mammy was the only person at Ingleside who had known anything about
Sally at Slipside Row. But it will be remembered she also knew something
of her father, and always declared she "nebber b'long'd in dat Row,
nohow."
Sally answered Mammy's cheerful greeting, and then asked, gaily:
"Going to war, Mammy?"
"Goin' to war?" cried Mammy, with a fearful rolling of eyes. "Now what
you take me fo', honey? But I spect you heer'd de news. Dat Mars' Lion,
he comin' home soon. Mars' Perc'val, he talkin' o' goin' to Inglan'
'fore long, and Mars' Lion, he hev to come back to Virginny and look
affer de plantation and we at de cabins."
Then Mammy lowered her voice, and asked, with a mysterious air:
"Hev you done heer'd 'bout dat Hotspur helpin' Mars' Lion get away to
Bosting town?"
"How was that?" asked Sally, for indeed not a word of gossip had she
heard about the affair.
Mammy went on:
"Ob course Mars' Perc'val won't hev a word said to him on de subjec',
and I doan't b'leeve he know what to tink ob tings. But shor's yore
born, honey, I b'leeve de folks up at de house tried in some way to keep
Mars' Lion from goin' to Bosting with dose odder boys he done go with.
"And, honey,"--Mammy Leezer held up a dark finger to make more dreadful
her solemn air,--"one night las' May, dat Hotspur, he done gone from his
outside box, and needer hoof, head, or tail ob him lef'. And dar warn't
no _man_ come for dat hoss! Bill, he wor awake all night, and lil Jule,
she hev a mis'ry in her lil stummick, so I'se up 'bout all night, and no
one come round dat stable we knows dat night, yet, in de mornin', dat
Hotspur, he clean gone."
Mammy put her hand, edgewise, side of her mouth, and whispered, loudly:
"Sperrits, honey! Sperrits!"
Sally laughed and shook her shining head.
"Oh, no, Mammy," she said, her voice full and bubbling, "no, no! spirits
don't come with strong hands and feet and take a horse away. Bill had a
nap, little Jule got easy, and you dozed, then some person led Hotspur
away."
Mammy looked carefully around, then said, with a twinkle in her eye:
"Ennyway, I'se glad dat boy get away. Dis yere war won't help de Inglish
any. De ole king needn't tink he can put his big foot on de people's
neck, and dey not kick back.
"Let Mars' Perc'val and Mistis Gran'son go back to Inglan' ef dey wants
to. Dey soon come totin' back 'gain. And Mars' Lion, ef he is a young
man, can run de place all it want to be run while dese times is goin'
on."
So he was coming back! her Fairy Prince!--
"I must learn yet more," said Maid Sally.
And so, while the dragon-fly buzzed in the hot summer sun, and the lazy
breeze scarcely stirred the cobwebs strung from bush to bush, while the
flaming poppies were seen through mists of heat, and the cattle stood
knee-deep in the streams, Maid Sally studied, recited, sewed, picked
over fruits, baked, and grew skilled both in pantry and in parlor.
Truly a little woman of the olden time.
Not often did the old-time parson freely praise any one. But Parson
Kendall one day said to Sally:
"I deem it but just, Maid Sally Duquesne, to say that very nobly hast
thou done with thy lessons. Many a fine lady might well be proud could
she stand by thy side, equal with thee in learning."
And Sally could have hugged herself from very happiness.
Then came the cooler days of autumn. The cotton had burst its bolls, the
sugar-cane given up its sweets, the tobacco was stored, the fruits
preserved.
One fine day in November, Sally saw Hotspur go dashing by, her Fairy
Prince holding the rein.
It was like a waft of new, sweet air thus to behold him. Too much a
child of nature was Maid Sally to lose or cast aside the dearest fancy
of her life as she grew older, and the Fairy Prince of poorer days was
the Fairy Prince still in her deep young heart.
He was also her hero now. She had helped him do battle for his country
and hers. He was her relation. What a secret to hug within her breast!
But now, hotter and hotter grew the news from all directions. Lord
Dunmore, gone from Williamsburg, yet made mischief in other parts of
Virginia.
And soon came reports of trouble from near Norfolk, south of
Williamsburg.
Sir Percival Grandison, who yet lingered in his Virginia home, no
longer tried to keep his young son from fighting with the "rebels."
There was in very truth something he kept very quiet about, in
connection with the Boston affair.
And he was not surprised when, with young Spottswood, Norris, Byrd, and
others, Lionel again mounted Hotspur and went clattering off toward
Norfolk to see what trouble the British were making in that quarter.
One morning, when December was in its second week, Sally was in the wide
kitchen plucking a goose, that she might learn how, when Parson Kendall
came to the door, his wig somewhat awry, his face flushed with
excitement, his manner hurried.
"Good Matilda," he said to his wife, "I would that a hamper of food
might be quickly prepared, a roll of linen be made ready, and several
flasks of your most strengthening tonics be got out. I go with our horse
Rupert, and saddle-bags, a long day's journey and nearly a night's, to
give such comfort as I can to certain of our men that lie wounded at
Great Bridge, near Norfolk.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE AT GREAT BRIDGE.]
"News hath been brought that on the seventh, a battle was fought, and
great victory was given to the colonists. But young Lionel Grandison and
Hugh Spottswood of our township are among the wounded, and help in
caring for the injured is called for.
"Doctor Hancocke goes in his wagon with drugs and potions, and so loud a
lament made Mammy Leezer, the old colored nurse at Ingleside, begging to
go and care for her 'chile,'--for so she calleth young Lionel,--that
Doctor Hancocke will take her along with his medicines and bandages.
"Sir Percival also hopes she will soon be able to return with the young
man in charge. He scarcely dareth to go himself to the scene of
conflict, for feeling is bitter against the Tories. Lady Gabrielle hath
taken to her room with cries of anger and sorrow at the news, and as for
Rosamond Earlscourt, she hath servants, smelling-bottles, hot drinks,
and all she can muster about the place attending on her, so loud is her
grief.
"Beshrew me! but I would like to see were it only an ounce of common
sense poured into her from some bottle or other!
"Now I go to get my camlet ready,"--a great cape like a cloak,--"and to
roll up a blanket."
"Oh, _please_!"
Parson Kendall and his wife Matilda turned about to see Maid Sally
standing with out-stretched hands, cheeks burning, eyes full of
entreaty.
"Oh, please let me go! I will squeeze into Doctor Hancocke's wagon with
Mammy Leezer, taking but little room. Very, oh, very sorely I have
longed to do something that would help in these days. Let me wait on the
wounded. I am strong and full of health, and almost a woman grown. I can
twist a bandage, make a posset, mix a medicine, feed the sick. I
prithee, let me go!"
The parson looked puzzled, Goodwife Kendall looked surprised.
"Dear maid," she said, "it is no easy thing to tend on wounded men. One
must be strong of nerve and firm of hand to deal with the injured."
"Have I asked for smelling-salts or shown weakness in any way when bad
news came?" asked Sally. "Try me, but try me! I think I could go through
fire or through flood to help our men. Pray let me go!"
But never a word said Maid Sally about its being her kinsman that lay
among the wounded.
And Parson Kendall said:
"I like well thy high spirit, maiden, and as a woman goeth in our
company,"--he turned toward his wife,--"what think you, good Matilda, of
letting the wench come with us?"
"I think," said Goodwife Kendall, "that since she so much desireth it,
we might let her go."