When the soldiers standing about heard the notorious names of men
already famed in ballad and story, they craned their necks to see, as my
tired riflemen filed into the lines; and the staff-officer made himself
exceedingly agreeable and civil, conducting us to a shelter made of
balsam branches, before which a smudge was burning.
"General Arnold has despatches for you, Captain Ormond," he said; "I am
Drummond, Brigade Major; we expected you at Varick Manor on the
ninth--you wrote to your cousin, Miss Varick, from Oriskany, you know."
A soldier came up with two headquarters lanterns which he hung on the
cross-bar of the open-faced hut; another soldier brought bread and
cheese, a great apple-pie, a jug of spring water, and a bottle of
brandy, with the compliments of Brigadier-General Arnold, and apologies
that neither cloth, glasses, nor cutlery were included in the
camp baggage.
"We're light infantry with a vengeance, Captain Ormond," said Major
Drummond, laughing; "we left at twenty-four hours' notice! Gad, sir! the
day before we started the General hadn't a squad under his orders; but
when Schuyler called for volunteers, and his brigadiers began to raise
hell at the idea of weakening the army to help Stanwix, Arnold came out
of his fit of sulks on the jump! 'Who'll follow me to Stanwix?' he
bawls; and, by gad, sir, the Massachusetts men fell over each other
trying to sign the rolls."
He laughed again, waving my papers in the air and slapping them down on
a knapsack.
"You will doubtless wish to hand these to the General yourself," he
said, pleasantly. "Pray, sir, do not think of standing on ceremony; I
have dined, Captain."
Mount, who had been furtively licking his lips and casting oblique
glances at the bread and cheese, fell to at a nod from me. Murphy and
Elerson joined him, bolting huge mouthfuls. I ate sparingly, having
little appetite left after the sights I had seen in that lonely house on
the Mohawk flats.
The gnats swarmed, but the smoke of the green-moss smudge kept them from
us in a measure. I asked Major Drummond how soon it might be convenient
for General Arnold to receive me, and he sent a young ensign to
headquarters, who presently returned saying that General Arnold was
making the rounds and would waive ceremony and stop at our post on
his return.
"There's a soldier, sir!" said Major Drummond, emphasizing his words
with a smart blow of his riding-cane on his polished quarter-boots.
"He's had us on a dog-trot since we started; up hill, down dale, across
the cursed Sacandaga swamps, through fords chin-high! By gad, sir! allow
me to tell you that nothing stopped us! We went through windfalls like
partridges; we crossed the hills like a herd o' deer in flight! We ran
as though the devil were snapping at our shanks! I'm half dead, thank
you--and my shins!--you should see where that razor-boned nag of mine
shaved bark enough off the trees with me to start every tannery between
the Fish-House and Half-moon!"
The ruddy-faced Major roared at the recital of his own misfortunes.
Mount and Murphy looked up with sympathetic grins; Elerson had fallen
asleep against the side of the shack, a bit of pie, half gnawed,
clutched in his brier-torn fist.
I had a pipe, but no tobacco; the Major filled my pipe, purring
contentedly; a soldier, at a sign from him, took Mount and Murphy to the
nearest fire, where there was a gill of grog and plenty of tobacco. I
roused Elerson, who gaped, bolted his pie with a single mighty effort,
and stumbled off after his comrades. Major Drummond squatted down
cross-legged before the smudge, lighting his corn-cob pipe from a bit of
glowing moss, and leaned back contentedly, crossing his arms behind
his head.
"I'm tired, too," he said; "we march again at midnight. If it's no
secret, I should like to know what's going on ahead there."
"It's no secret," I said, soberly; "the Senecas and Cayugas are
harrying the Oneidas; the renegades are riding the forest, murdering
women and infants. St. Leger is firing bombs at Stanwix, and Visscher is
holding German Flatts with some Caughnawaga militia."
"And Herkimer?" asked Drummond, gravely.
"Dead," I replied, in a low voice.
"Good gad, sir! I had not heard that!" he exclaimed.
"It is true, Major. The old man died while I was at German Flatts. They
say the amputation of his leg was a wretched piece of work.... He died
bolt upright in his bed, smoking his pipe, and reading aloud the
thirty-eighth Psalm.... His men are wild with grief, they say.... They
called him a coward the morning of Oriskany."
After a silence the Major's emotion dimmed his twinkling eyes; he
dragged a red bandanna handkerchief from his coat-tails and blew his
nose violently.
"All flesh is grass--eh, Captain? And some of it devilish poor grass at
that, eh? Well, well; we can't make an army in a day. But, by gad, sir,
we've done uncommonly well. You've heard of--but no, you haven't,
either. Here's news for you, friend, since you've been in the woods. On
the sixth, while you fellows were shooting down some three hundred and
fifty of the Mohawks, Royal Greens, and renegades, that sly old
wolverine, Marinus Willett, slipped out of the fort, fell on Sir John's
camp, and took twenty-one wagon-loads of provisions, blankets,
ammunition, and tools; also five British standards and every bit of
personal baggage belonging to Sir John Johnson, including his private
papers, maps, memoranda, and all orders and instructions for the
completed plans of campaign.... Wait, if you please, sir. That is
not all.
"On the sixteenth, old John Stark fell upon Baum's and Breyman's
Hessians at Bennington, killed and wounded over two hundred, captured
seven hundred; took a thousand stand of arms, a thousand fine dragoon
sabres, and four excellent field-cannon with limbers, harness, and
caissons.... And lost fourteen killed!"
Speechless at the good news, I could only lean across the smudge and
shake hands with him while he chuckled and slapped his knee, growing
ruddier in the face every moment.
"Where are the red-coats now?" he cried. "Look at 'em! Burgoyne, scared
witless, badgered, dogged from pillar to post, his army on the defensive
from Still water down to Half-moon; St. Leger, destitute of his camp
baggage, caught in his own wolf-pit, flinging a dozen harmless bombs at
Stanwix, and frightened half to death at every rumor from Albany;
McDonald chased out of the county; Mann captured, and Sir Henry Clinton
dawdling in New York and bothering his head over Washington while
Burgoyne, in a devil of a plight, sits yonder yelling for help!
"Where's the great invasion, Ormond? Where's the grand advance on the
centre? Where's the gigantic triple blow at the heart of this scurvy
rebellion? I don't know; do you?"
I shook my head, smilingly; he beamed upon me; we had a swallow of
brandy together, and I lay back, deathly tired, to wait for Arnold and
my despatches.
"That's right," commented the genial Major, "go to sleep while you can;
the General won't take it amiss--eh? What? Oh, don't mind me, my son.
Old codgers like me can get along without such luxuries as sleep. It's
the young lads who require sleep. Eh? Yes, sir; I'm serious. Wait till
you see sixty year! Then you'll understand.... So I'll just sit
here, ... and smoke, ... and talk away in a buzz-song, ... and that
will fix--"
* * * * *
I looked up with a start; the Major had disappeared. In my eyes a
lantern was shining steadily. Then a shadow moved, and I turned and
stumbled to my feet, as a cloaked figure stepped into the shelter and
stood before me, peering into my eyes.
"I'm Arnold; how d'ye do," came a quick, nervous voice from the depths
of the military cloak. "I've a moment to stay here; we march in ten
minutes. Is Herkimer dead?"