IN WHICH BEN RECEIVES A LETTER AND RIDES TOWARDS YORK
For a moment it seemed as though the group of ruffians might take heart
and fly at Molly Hayes, despite the scalding reception it was in her
power to give them. But before they could fully make up their minds,
the landlord and his fellows hurried up.
“What’s to do now?” demanded the worthy host, bewildered at this fresh
outbreak. “Is the house never to be at rest? How, sirs,” to the men,
“with your swords out--and at a woman. For shame! And you, mistress,”
to the girl, “will nothing do but flourishing one of my coppers in the
faces of my guests?”
“Your guests!” The girl put the vessel upon the floor, and wiped her
arms with her apron. “And pretty guests they are for any one to have
around about them.” She pointed to the room which she had just left.
“Upon a bed there is the lieutenant, as you know, and there I sits
by his side, giving him his medicine and his small bite to eat. And
then open bursts the window like a thunderbolt and into the room they
leaped, their swords in their hands, like a lot of robbers.”
“We’d never have bothered you if it hadn’t been for him,” and one of
the men pointed at Paddy, who still stood all agrin behind the girl.
“Take shame for you, a parcel of thieves, each with a sword in his
fist, all after the life of one poor boy. No wonder he jumped through
the window into the room to get away from you, and small blame to him.”
But diplomatically the landlord, without any inquiries into the cause
of the outbreak, soothed everybody; the result was that the men put up
their weapons and grumblingly took seats at a table far down the room,
while Molly Hayes and Paddy Burk disappeared into the room from which
they had emerged a few moments before.
The cadaverous Master Bleekwood had regarded this scene with scornful
eyes.
“The clumsy rascals,” he now said to Ben, “they have ruined their
chances. I might have expected such.” He arose to his feet. “Do you,”
said he, “try and quiet any suspicions which your friend may have; I
will have a quiet word with these fellows of mine.”
Ben sat at the table trying to collect his thoughts which had been
badly scattered by the events of the last few moments; then, more by
chance than anything else, he saw the door which had closed in Paddy
Burk open a trifle and a hand beckon him into the room beyond. He went
to the door and passed through; Paddy Burk immediately closed it behind
him.
“Why, then,” said Paddy, and his face had lost none of the grin of a
short time before, “why, then, this is the great night entirely. Did
you have a fair view of it all?”
“Yes, I think so,” replied Ben. “But, tell me, how did it come about?”
“As I were standing watching the landlord and the rampaging fellow a
while back,” said Paddy, “a gossoon comes up to me and begins a bit of
a discussion. I’ll never know how it came about, but soon we were head
over ears in a quarrel; and then he invited me to the outside where we
could settle the matter without further words. Out I goes with him,
behind the inn; but sorra a blow was struck before the rest of them
made at me. So I slipped open the window nearest me and dove in with
the lot of them after me. The rest, I think, you know already.”
“And a-plenty it is to know, faith,” said the voice of Molly Hayes.
“Sure, it’s fair ashamed of myself I am for making such a botheration
as I have to-night. But a body must not allow himself to be imposed
upon. And above all, the lieutenant must not be disturbed.”
As the girl spoke Ben for the first time saw a pale young man, with
a bandage about his head, propped up on a sort of couch. There was
something familiar in his aspect, but Ben did not recognize him until
he spoke.
“What,” said he, “and have I changed so much, Cooper, that you do not
remember me?”
“Lieutenant Claflin!” Ben advanced and took the wasted hand held out to
him. “Why, can it be you, indeed?”
“All that’s left of me,” said Lieutenant Claflin with a wan smile. “I
happened to have been sent to the neighborhood of the Highland forts
some little time ago; and on the day the British made their attack, I
was at Fort Clinton.”
“Were you badly hurt?” asked Ben.
“It could have been worse,” said Claflin. “But it was bad enough as it
was. However, I am now on the mend, and Molly, here, is taking me home.”
“Home?” Ben looked puzzled.
“Ah, yes, of course, you have not heard; but since the army of Lord
Howe has been in the possession of Philadelphia, my father has changed
his place of residence to the town of York.”
“Many have done the like,” said Ben Cooper. “My own father has been
forced from his house at Germantown and is now at Reading.” They
discussed the situation for a time and then Ben said: “You must have
suffered great hardship in the long journey across the Jerseys.”
“Not so much as you might think,” replied Lieutenant Claflin with a
laugh. “Here’s Molly, wife to a fine fellow who is a sergeant in the
artillery, Hayes by name; and she’s stood between me and all the hard
knocks I would otherwise have had.”
“Arrah, then, sir,” said Molly Hayes, “is it leaving you to die I’d be
doing? And you with the young sister and old father you’ve so often
told me about! Anybody could see by the way you speak of them, sir,
that it’s the world they think of you; and if you’d a-died what would
they have done at all, at all?”
“Sure enough, Molly,” said young Claflin, soberly; “sure enough. Well,
they will have you to thank when we get to York.”
“It’s little enough they have to thank me for!” protested Molly. “Sure,
anybody would have done the like.”
“Well, nobody but you made any attempt at it,” said Claflin. “You must
know,” and the speaker turned to Ben, “that Molly is a great girl.”
“So I should think,” laughed Ben, “after the few exhibitions of her
prowess which I have witnessed to-night.”
Molly laughed and flushed at this.
“Arrah, don’t be judging me from that, young gintleman,” she pleaded.
“No, indeed,” smiled Claflin, “subduing a bully and putting to flight
a crew of murderous wretches like those a while ago are scarcely
performances that will do her complete justice. Now at Fort Clinton,
for example----”
“Hush, lieutenant,” commanded young Mistress Hayes. But he never heard
her.
“When the enemy had hemmed us in so that there was scarce time for the
hindmost to make safely away, who remembered that there was a loaded
cannon left unfired? Who was it that went back, in the peril of her
very life, applied the match and discharged it in their very faces
as they came rushing on, shouting in triumph? Who but Molly Hayes,
herself?”
“The lieutenant is a kind-hearted young man,” Molly explained to Ben.
“And he do be always giving more credit to people than is their due.”
“I can plainly see that you’re more than an ordinary person, Mistress
Hayes,” smiled Ben, “and so I will not take even your own word against
yourself.”
And so laughing and chatting they passed a half hour; at the end of
this time Paddy Burk and Molly Hayes and Ben and Lieutenant Claflin
became immersed in more momentous things.
“My father,” the young officer had said, “does a great deal of
entertaining, even at York.”
This remark was brought out in his insisting that Ben make them a visit
while in the town. And instantly upon hearing it, Ben’s face took on an
expression of much seriousness.
“In Philadelphia,” said he, “all the notables flocked to your father’s
entertainments.”
The lieutenant laughed.
“And they do so at York, if what I hear be so,” said he.
From that moment Ben grew more and more thoughtful; it were as though
he were revolving an important something in his mind. After a little
the lieutenant noticed this.
“Hello,” said he. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking,” answered Ben, “of a small chain of incidents
which happened to-night, and also of some larger things, which took
place some time ago, but which are intimately connected with them.”
“I see.”
“And,” proceeded Ben Cooper, “I have been wondering if----”
“If--what?” inquired Claflin, as he paused.
“I scarcely think you will understand unless I tell you all that has
happened,” said Ben. “So if you will listen----”
“Go on,” directed the young lieutenant.
So with that Ben began the story of Tobias Hawkins at the point where
that gentleman’s path had first crossed his own; step by step he
followed it until he reached the doings of that very night. And when he
had done the lieutenant drew a deep breath.
“Well,” said he, in amazement, “this is indeed a tale.”
“It is not done even yet,” said Ben.
“I can see that,” replied the other. “I can see that readily enough.”
“The story of Tobias Hawkins is not yet finished,” said Ben. “Nor will
it ever be, to the satisfaction of true believers in liberty, at any
rate--until several links are added to the chain by a hand other than
his own.”
“You have some sort of a plan,” cried the other, sitting more upright
upon his couch. “What is it?”
“Listen,” said Ben. And so, with their heads close together and their
voices pitched low, they sat for the better part of another hour. And
when they had finished, Lieutenant Claflin grasped Ben’s hand.
“I’ll do what I can,” declared he. “And my father and sister will do
the same. If success to your plan can be won by effort upon our parts,
depend upon it that we will do our best.”
“That is all I ask,” said Ben.
After a few moments more the latter arose.
“We must make haste,” said he. “Paddy and I are on our way to York now,
and must lose no more time. However, I will see you before a great
while.”
And so with good-byes for the injured lieutenant and his nurse, Ben and
the Irish lad made their way out by a rear door.
“It will be just as well,” said Ben, “if we avoid the attention of
Master Bleekwood and his friends. Our way is a long one, and we’ll be
the better for not having an enemy in our rear.”
Their horses were found where they had tied them; they mounted silently
and proceeded upon their way. Nothing further was encountered upon the
road; and after a wearying ride they finally reached York to learn that
their services were not in demand.
“A curt reception,” said Ben, thoughtfully.
“It have a queer look, so it have,” said Paddy, scratching his head.
“In that it agrees with many other things which we have encountered of
late,” spoke Ben Cooper. “And it agrees entirely with the idea I formed
some time back regarding this summons.”
“You mean----”
“That we were never really wanted--here. It was Seaforth and I who were
wanted, at the Crossed Keys--Seaforth the decoy, and I the victim.”
As soon as they were sufficiently rested they returned to the American
camp, and made their report. However, Ben said nothing as to what had
happened upon the road, and warned Paddy to do likewise.
Not long after this the forts which guarded the passage of the Delaware
fell before the assault of the British. A pressure was brought upon
Washington to attack Philadelphia, which he resisted with all his might.
“Shall the army of the north alone win victories?” was the cry. “Can
we not strike even a blow with the army of the Schuylkill? Give us a
general who will fight.”
With at least outward calm, Washington faced this fresh outburst
against him. He knew that the British defenses were too powerful to
be taken at that time, and he refused to dash his small force against
their bristling lines.
“It would mean only destruction,” said he, and the greater part of his
officers agreed with him.
His enemies, always at work, about this time succeeded in altering
the form of the Board of War--and most significant of all, General
Gates was made president of it. Mifflin was also one of the five who
composed the board, which had the direction of military affairs in its
hands; and it was plain to be seen that these two were intended to
be the master spirits of the war. At once the board began its work.
Two inspector-generals were appointed; and one of these was Conway,
who was given the rank of major-general, in the teeth of Washington’s
plainly expressed opinion as to the man’s unfitness.
Seeing that nothing was to be gained by keeping the field in the dead
of winter, Washington now prepared to hut his army at Valley Forge,
about twenty miles from Philadelphia. At once another cry burst upon
him.
“Why have we raised and officered an army?” was the burden of this
complaint. “Its purpose is to protect us from our enemies. And to do
this it should keep the field.”
The brave heart of the commander-in-chief burned in his breast at
this; his gallant fellows were without shoes, blankets or clothing to
protect them from the icy winds. Their tents were thin and gave them
little shelter; and to ask men so circumstanced to keep the field
was heartless and inhuman. So in spite of the storm of protest, the
ragged army took up its gloomy march through the snow to Valley Forge.
Cold, bitter weather was upon them; the naked feet of many left bloody
footprints in the snow. And yet, while this suffering was being
undergone, great quantities of clothing, shoes and woolen stockings
were lying at intervals along distant roadsides, rotting for want of
teams, supplied by those in charge of such things, to cart them where
they were held in such pressing need. Washington’s enemies were now in
charge of such supplies, and this was another blow leveled at him--a
blow calculated to break his high heart and cause him to throw up his
commission.
Inch by inch the plotters had forced General Schuyler from his command
in the north; successful there, they were now using the same methods
upon Washington. But through it all he stood unflinching and unmoved
save by the suffering of his soldiers. The depths of the conspirators’
meanness was equaled only by the depths of his courage; the obstacles
erected in his path, the pitfalls dug for his feet were meant for one
whose patience and patriotism could be measured. But in a splendid soul
like that of General Washington, these virtues are unmeasured; and so
he passed on serene and unmoved, his calm eyes fixed steadily upon the
future.
It was while the naked army shivered in the midst of that most rigorous
of winters at Valley Forge that Ben Cooper one day received a letter.
It read:
“Come at once. Everything now ready.”
A glance at the signature showed that it was “Claflin”; then instantly
he went to headquarters and requested leave to visit York at once. As
the young rider was possessed of the confidence of those in command,
this was granted without delay. Immediately his horse was saddled and
eagerly mounted; and away he went over the winter road.