“You may well afford to forget it, sir; I shall not,” he returned. He
was in full uniform, not a tall man, but finely proportioned, with
remarkably regular features and a clear complexion which was set off
to advantage by powdered hair drawn back and tied in the usual ribboned
queue.
We rode along in company, happy enough, and chatting as we went, Mr.
Andre, as always, the life of the party. He had the gracious frankness
of a well-mannered lad, and, as I recall him, seemed far younger than
his years. He spoke very feelingly aside to me of young Macpherson, who
fell at Quebec. He himself had had the ill luck not to be present when
that gallant assault was made. He spoke of us always as colonials, and
not as rebels; and why was I not in the service of the king, or perhaps
that was a needless question?
I told him frankly that I hoped before long to be in quite other
service. At this he cried, “So, so! I would not say it elsewhere. Is
that so? It is a pity, Mr. Wynne; a hopeless cause,” adding, with a
laugh, that I should not find it very easy to get out of the city, which
was far too true. I said there were many ways to go, but how I meant
to leave I did not yet know. After I got out I would tell him. We had
fallen back a little as we talked, the road just here not allowing three
to ride abreast.
“I shall ask the colonel for a pass to join our army,” I said merrily.
“I would,” said he, as gay as I; “but I fear you and Mistress Wynne will
have no favours. Pray tell her to be careful. The Tories are talking.”
“Thanks,” said I, as we drew aside to let pass a splendid brigade of
Hessians, fat and well fed, with shining helmets.
“We are drawing in a lot of men from Germantown,” said Andre, “but for
what I do not know. Ah, here comes the artillery!”
I watched them as we all sat in saddle, while regiment after regiment
passed, the women admiring their precision and soldierly bearing. For my
part, I kept thinking of the half-clad, ill-armed men I had seen go down
these same streets a little while before. “I will go,” I said to myself;
and in a moment I had made one of those decisive resolutions which, once
made, seem to control me, and to permit no future change of plan.
By this time we were come to the bridge over Cohocsink Creek, I having
become self-absorbed and silent. The colonel called my attention to
his having dammed the creek, and thus flooded the low meadows for more
complete defence. I said, “Yes, yes!” being no longer interested.
Mr. Shippen said, “We will cross over to the ‘Rose of Bath’ and have a
little milk-punch before we ride back.” This was an inn where, in the
garden, was a mineral water much prescribed by Dr. Kearsley. I excused
myself, however, and, pleading an engagement, rode slowly away.
I put up my mare in my aunt’s stable, and went at once into her parlour,
full of my purpose.
I sat down and told her both the talk of two days before with Tarleton
and my cousin, and also that I had had in my boat.
She thought I had been foolishly frank, and said, “You have reason to
be careful, Hugh. That man is dangerous. He would not fight you, because
that would put an end to his relations with your father. Clerk Mason
tells me he has already borrowed two hundred pounds of my brother. So
far I can see,” she went on; “the rest is dark--that about Wyncote,
I mean. Darthea, when once she is away, begins to criticise him. In a
word, Hugh, I think he has reason to be jealous.”
“O Aunt Gainor!”
“Yes. She does not answer your letters, nor should she, but she answers
them to me, the minx! a good sign, sir.”
“That is not all, aunt. I can stand it no longer. I must go; I am
going.”
“The army, Hugh?”
“Yes; my mind is made up. My two homes are hardly mine any longer. Every
day is a reproach. For my father I can do little. His affairs are almost
entirely wound up. He does not need me. The old clerk is better.”
“Will it be hard to leave me, my son?”
“You know it will,” said I. She had risen, tall and large, her eyes soft
with tears.
“You must go,” she said, “and may God protect and keep you. I shall be
very lonely, Hugh. But you must go. I have long seen it.”
Upon this, I begged she would see my father often, and give me news of
him and of Darthea whenever occasion served. Then she told me Darthea
was to return to the city in two days, and she herself would keep
in mind all I had wished her to do. After this I told her of the
difficulties I should meet with, and we talked them over. Presently she
said, “Wait;” then left the room, and, coming back, gave me a sword the
counterpart of Jack’s.
“I have had it a year, sir. Let me see,” she cried, and would have me
put it on, and the sash, and the buff-and-blue sword-knot. After this
she put a great hand on each shoulder just as she had done with Jack,
and, kissing me, said, “War is a sad thing, but there are worse things.
Be true to the old name, my son.” Nor could she bide it a moment longer,
but hurried out with her lace handkerchief to her eyes, saying as she
went, “How shall I bear it! How shall I bear it!”
She also had for me a pair of silver-mounted pistols, and an enamelled
locket with my mother’s ever dear face within, done for her when my
mother was in England by the famous painter of miniatures, Mr. Cosway.
And now I set about seeing how I was to get away. Our own forces lay at
Pennypacker’s Mills, or near by; but this I did not know until later,
and neither the British nor I were very sure as to their precise
situation. It was clear that I must go afoot. As I walked down Second
street with this on my mind, I met Colonel Montresor with a group of
officers. He stopped me, and, after civilly presenting me, said:
“Harcourt and Johnston”--this latter was he who later married the saucy
Miss Franks and her fortune--“want to know if you have duck-shooting
here on the Schuylkill.”
Suddenly, as I stood, I saw my chance and how to leave the town. I said,
“It is rather early, but there are a few ducks in the river. If I had a
boat I would try it to-morrow, and then perhaps, if I find sport, one of
you would join me the day after.”
“Very good,” said they, as well pleased as I.
“And the boat?” I said.
The colonel had one, a rather light skiff, he told me. He used it to
go up and down to look at the bridges he was now busily laying. When I
asked for its use the next day, he said Yes, if I would send him some
ducks; adding that I should need a pass. He would send it that evening
by a sergeant, and an order for the skiff, which lay on this side at
the lower ferry. I thanked him, and went away happy in the success of my
scheme.