THE TWO LIEUTENANTS.
As the little boat, with the two fishermen rowing and the silent figure
sitting in the stern-sheets, dipped and tossed through the racing tide,
which was at the flood, the wind began to blow up cold and nipping from
the north. The spray froze as it splashed now and then over the gunwales
of the boat.
It was quite midnight before they reached the New Jersey shore and
pulled in beneath the shelter of a point of rocks that rose steeply out
of the water. Here for the first time words were spoken.
"You have done well, my men, and here is a 'bright yellow' for each of
you," said the young man in the cloak.
As he extended his hand, Roger, the younger, grasped it in a friendly
way.
"I remember you, sir. I was one of the boatmen who rowed you across
after the battle of Long Island. We are both good patriots."
The older man at this allusion respectfully touched his oil-skin cap.
Then the boat was shoved out once more into the current.
The young man on the shore watched until it had disappeared.
"Now for a horse!" he exclaimed aloud.
Climbing up the rocks, and following closely a road which ran through a
wide meadow, he saw a farm-house to the right. A light in one of the
windows had first attracted his attention. He walked up the little lane,
and stopped for a moment before knocking at the door.
"Tory or patriot, I wonder?" he queried. He had hesitated before
pronouncing the last word.
In response to the tapping of his cold knuckles, the door was opened.
Before him stood a tall woman, and back of her a boy of thirteen or
fourteen. The latter had a large bell-mouthed blunderbuss in the hollow
of his arm.
"What is it at this time of night?" the woman inquired, in a deep voice
like a man's.
"A word of direction," was the answer. "Could you tell me where I can
find a horse? I will pay well for him."
"Where are you from?" asked the woman.
"From New York, but I would go on to the westward, and must hurry or I
will be caught."
"Oh!" said the woman. "Come in by the fire. You are alone?"
"Yes," was the response.
The boy, who at first had looked suspiciously from the stranger to the
tall figure of his mother, placed the blunderbuss in the corner, and the
three walked into the kitchen.
"Are you going to join the army?" inquired the woman at length.
"I am in the army," was the reply; "but I must hasten. I have just been
rowed across the river, and should I be captured it might go hard with
me."
"I understand," said the woman, "and I will assist you if I can."
"You will be well paid," rejoined the young officer.
"Do not think of it," answered the woman. "I have given one son; and my
husband and brother are with Washington. We must give our all. I can see
what you have been afraid to tell. You have escaped. One has to be
careful. Might I ask you your name?"
"Frothingham."
"I know that name well," said she. "I have heard my brother speak of a
young Mr. Frothingham who was employed with him. He was at Mr. Wyeth's,
the merchant's."
"Ah, indeed!" was the answer.
The young soldier drew forth a bag of gold. As he did so the light from
the fireplace shone clearly upon his left hand. Across the back of it
ran a scar.
"Eugene," said the woman, turning to the boy, "make haste to the stable
and put the saddle on the colt. 'Tis all we have left, sir, but you are
welcome. When you reach Morristown you may be able to send him back
again. Perhaps you know my husband. My name is Ralston, and my brother's
name is Samuel Thomas. You must remember him. My son was killed on Long
Island. Were you there?"
"No, madam," was the thoughtful answer; "I was not."
The woman left the room, and the young man gazed into the fire.
He had had no idea of the devotion of these people to this cause. In
far-away England he had suspected nothing of the intensity of feeling or
the self-sacrifice and patriotism that animated the country.
A qualm of misgiving came over him. Was it not rather an uncomfortable
part to play--taking his brother's place, as it were, and accepting the
help and hospitality of these brave folk, who would give "their all," as
the woman had said, for what they considered their rights and liberties!
A feeling akin to pride had swept over him when the woman had spoken of
his brother George; it could have been no other.
He struck his knee a blow with his closed fist.
"It is for the King," he said, beneath his breath.
At this moment the trampling of hoofs on the crisp earth outside
attracted his attention.
The woman came to the door.
The lad was holding a small horse at the stone step.
"You have done me a great service, and I pray you will accept--" began
the supposed fugitive.
Mrs. Ralston interrupted him.
"Think you, sir, that I would take one penny? 'Twould burn my fingers.
It is for our country."
"Thank you, good friend, then," he said, and the tears came to his eyes
despite himself.
The lad gave him a leg-up into the saddle. "I wish I were old enough to
fight, sir," he said. "Good-by. Take the first road to the left and you
are on the highway."
William mumbled a confused sentence of thanks and rode away.
This endeavor of his to prove his loyalty did not appear so glorious an
undertaking as he had at first supposed. His thoughts ran back to his
brother George in that cramped prison cell, where he supposed him still
to be.
But the latter, a free man again, was at this moment seated before a
fireplace in a large wainscoted room in a large house not far from
Fraunce's Tavern.
On the opposite side was sitting the burly figure of Rivington!
When George had found that no boat was waiting for him at Striker's
wharf, he had bethought himself at once of two places where he might
hide--Mrs. Mack's and School-master Anderson's. How stupid he had been
that he had not discovered the latter's character before! Putting the
incidents together, he could read all plain enough.
Anderson was the one to see.
As he was about to sound the knocker gently on the schoolmaster's door,
some one spoke to him and called softly,
"Number Four, I say!"
There was a touch on his elbow (he still carried his right hand in a
sling), and Rivington was standing beside him.
"Do not fear, my son," he said; "I am one of the seven." There was the
sound of laughing coming from within the house. "Some of our friends
from across the water are in there," said the printer. "It was lucky I
was in time to stop you. We must entertain them, you know. I have been
following you for some time to make sure. Come with me."
He had piloted George to the street, and opened the door of his own
house with a huge key, ushering him into the large room in which they
were now seated.
It was odd, George kept thinking to himself, and hard to believe, that
Rivington, the hated Tory, had turned patriot.
"Now, young Frothingham," said Rivington, after a pause, "this is an
extraordinary occasion. You are the first one with whom I have held
conversation upon any such dangerous subjects. But you must know two or
three things that I believe most thoroughly. I have no faith in hopeless
ventures, but, mark me, though this war lasts six months or six years,
America will never again belong to England. I am so fully convinced of
this that I have risked my safety to help end the struggle. Peace will
come sooner or later, but the sooner the better, of course. Some day
when my fellow-citizens learn what I have done they will not hang me in
effigy or sink my presses in the bay. But enough of that. I have
forgiven them.--To something of greater moment.--You cannot remain
another day in this city. I doubt your being able to cross the river
to-night. To-morrow morning early I go to Paulus Hook, and will take you
with me as my servant. 'Tis a risk, perhaps, but it is the safest thing
I can think of. I am supposed to go there on some business for General
Howe. I am afraid that I shall muddle it, but I may learn something.
Sleep here behind this heavy screen. We start early." Without another
word he left the room.
At daybreak the next morning Rivington and George, in a small sail-boat,
were making for the New Jersey shore.
George was dressed in a groom's livery, and carried a large despatch-box
on his knees.
Almost all the dwellers in the country surrounding the Hook had found it
to their best interests to hide any desire that they might have to show
their leaning toward patriotism, and, to tell the truth, most of them
were advanced Tories.
It was to visit one of these men, a dealer in live-stock, that Mr.
Rivington was making the trip.
They had ridden but a short distance in the lurching one-horse chaise
that had met them at the ferry, when Rivington pulled up.
"Here I say good-by," he said. "At the fifth house along this path from
here stop and ask for the owner. He is a very aged man. His name has
slipped me; but tell him frankly who you are, and that you have escaped
from a British prison, and he will do his best to send you on your way.
Do not fear that he will betray you. He hates me well, and would rejoice
to see me hanged, but some day he may think better thoughts. Of course,
do not mention my name to him. Good-by, lad. There is one person to whom
you can present my best respects--General Washington. Success to him!"
George shook his benefactor's enormous hand, and took the path through a
thicket of scrub-oaks.
Rivington had driven on but a short distance, when he thumped the bottom
of the chaise with both feet. "You may shoot me for a lunkhead," he
exclaimed, "if I did not forget to tell him of his brother's being in
this country. I wonder if he knows it? He made no mention. It would have
been best for him to know it."
But it was too late to call George's notice now, and he cut the horse a
sharp flick with the whip.