Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days;
None knew thee but to love thee,
None named thee but to praise.
--HALLECK.
While the scenes and events that we have recorded were occurring,
Captain Lawton led his small party, by slow and wary marches, from the
Four Corners to the front of a body of the enemy; where he so
successfully maneuvered, for a short time, as completely to elude all
their efforts to entrap him, and yet so disguised his own force as to
excite the constant apprehension of an attack from the Americans. This
forbearing policy, on the side of the partisan, was owing to positive
orders received from his commander. When Dunwoodie left his detachment,
the enemy were known to be slowly advancing, and he directed Lawton to
hover around them, until his own return, and the arrival of a body of
foot, might enable him to intercept their retreat.
The trooper discharged his duty to the letter but with no little of the
impatience that made part of his character when restrained from
the attack.
During these movements, Betty Flanagan guided her little cart with
indefatigable zeal among the rocks of Westchester, now discussing with
the sergeant the nature of evil spirits, and now combating with the
surgeon sundry points of practice that were hourly arising between them.
But the moment arrived that was to decide the temporary mastery of the
field. A detachment of the eastern militia moved out from their
fastnesses, and approached the enemy.
The junction between Lawton and his auxiliaries was made at midnight,
and an immediate consultation was held between him and the leader of the
foot soldiers. After listening to the statements of the partisan, who
rather despised the prowess of his enemy, the commandant of the party
determined to attack the British, the moment daylight enabled him to
reconnoiter their position, without waiting for the aid of Dunwoodie and
his horse. So soon as this decision was made, Lawton retired from the
building where the consultation was held, and rejoined his own
small command.
The few troopers who were with the captain had fastened their horses in
a spot adjacent to a haystack, and laid their own frames under its
shelter, to catch a few hours' sleep. But Dr. Sitgreaves, Sergeant
Hollister, and Betty Flanagan were congregated at a short distance by
themselves, having spread a few blankets upon the dry surface of a rock.
Lawton threw his huge frame by the side of the surgeon, and folding his
cloak about him, leaned his head upon one hand, and appeared deeply
engaged in contemplating the moon as it waded through the heavens. The
sergeant was sitting upright, in respectful deference to the surgeon,
and the washerwoman was now raising her head, in order to vindicate some
of her favorite maxims, and now composing it to sleep.
"So, sergeant," continued Sitgreaves, following up a previous position,
"if you cut upwards, the blow, by losing the additional momentum of your
weight, will be less destructive, and at the same time effect the true
purpose of war, that of disabling your enemy."
"Pooh! pooh! sergeant dear," said the washerwoman, raising her head from
the blanket, "where's the harm of taking a life, jist in the way of
battle? Is it the rig'lars who'll show favor, and they fighting? Ask
Captain Jack there, if the country could get free, and the boys no
strike their might. I wouldn't have them disparage the whisky so much."
"It is not to be expected that an ignorant female like yourself, Mrs.
Flanagan," returned the surgeon, with a calmness that only rendered his
contempt more stinging to Betty, "can comprehend the distinctions of
surgical science; neither are you accomplished in the sword exercise; so
that dissertations upon the judicious use of that weapon could avail you
nothing either in theory or in practice."
"It's hut little I care, anyway, for such botherment; but fighting is
no play, and a body shouldn't be particular how they strike, or who they
hit, so it's the inimy."
"Are we likely to have a warm day, Captain Lawton?"
"'Tis more than probable," replied the trooper; "these militia seldom
fail of making a bloody field, either by their cowardice or their
ignorance, and the real soldier is made to suffer for their
bad conduct."
"Are you ill, John?" said the surgeon, passing his hand along the arm of
the captain, until it instinctively settled on his pulse; but the
steady, even beat announced neither bodily nor mental malady.
"Sick at heart, Archibald, at the folly of our rulers, in believing that
battles are to be fought and victories won, by fellows who handle a
musket as they would a flail; lads who wink when they pull a trigger,
and form a line like a hoop pole. The dependence we place on these men
spills the best blood of the country."
The surgeon listened with amazement. It was not the matter, but the
manner that surprised him. The trooper had uniformly exhibited, on the
eve of battle, an animation, and an eagerness to engage, that was
directly at variance with the admirable coolness of his manner at other
times. But now there was a despondency in the tones of his voice, and a
listlessness in his air, that was entirely different. The operator
hesitated a moment, to reflect in what manner he could render this
change of service in furthering his favorite system, and then
continued,--
"It would be wise, John, to advise the colonel to keep at long shot; a
spent ball will disable--"
"No!" exclaimed the trooper, impatiently, "let the rascals singe their
whiskers at the muzzles of the British muskets, if they can be driven
there. But, enough of them. Archibald, do you deem that moon to be a
world like this, containing creatures like ourselves?"
"Nothing more probable, dear John; we know its size and, reasoning from
analogy, may easily conjecture its use. Whether or not its inhabitants
have attained to that perfection in the sciences which we have acquired,
must depend greatly on the state of its society, and in some measure
upon its physical influences."
"I care nothing about their learning, Archibald; but 'tis a wonderful
power that can create such worlds, and control them in their wanderings.
I know not why, but there is a feeling of melancholy excited within me
as I gaze on that body of light, shaded as it is by your fancied sea and
land. It seems to be the resting place of departed spirits!"
"Take a drop, darling," said Betty, raising her head once more, and
proffering her own bottle. "'Tis the night damp that chills the
blood--and then the talk with the cursed militia is no good for a fiery
temper. Take a drop, darling, and ye'll sleep till the morning. I fed
Roanoke myself, for I thought ye might need hard riding the morrow."
"'Tis a glorious heaven to look upon," continued the trooper, in the
same tone, disregarding the offer of Betty, "and 'tis a thousand pities
that such worms as men should let their vile passions deface such
goodly work."
"You speak the truth, dear John; there is room for all to live and enjoy
themselves in peace, if each could be satisfied with his own. Still, war
has its advantages; it particularly promotes the knowledge of
surgery; and--"
"There is a star," continued Lawton, still bent on his own ideas,
"struggling to glitter through a few driving clouds; perhaps that too is
a world, and contains its creatures endowed with reason like ourselves.
Think you that they know of war and bloodshed?"
"If I might be so bold," said Sergeant Hollister, mechanically raising
his hand to his cap, "'tis mentioned in the good book, that the Lord
made the sun to stand still while Joshua was charging the enemy, in
order, sir, as I suppose, that they might have daylight to turn their
flank, or perhaps make a feint in the rear, or some such maneuver. Now,
if the Lord would lend them a hand, fighting cannot be sinful. I have
often been nonplused, though, to find that they used them chariots
instead of heavy dragoons, who are, in all comparison, better to break a
line of infantry, and who, for the matter of that, could turn such wheel
carriages, and getting into the rear, play the very devil with them,
horse and all."
"It is because you do not understand the construction of those ancient
vehicles, Sergeant Hollister, that you judge of them so erroneously,"
said the surgeon. "They were armed with sharp weapons that protruded
from their wheels, and which broke up the columns of foot, like
dismembered particles of matter. I doubt not, if similar instruments
were affixed to the cart of Mrs. Flanagan, that great confusion might be
carried into the ranks of the enemy thereby, this very day."
"It's but little that the mare would go, and the rig'lars firing at
her," grumbled Betty, from under her blanket. "When we got the plunder,
the time we drove them through the Jarseys it was, I had to back the
baste up to the dead; for the divil the foot would she move, fornent the
firing, wid her eyes open. Roanoke and Captain Jack are good enough for
the redcoats, letting alone myself and the mare."
A long roll of the drums, from the hill occupied by the British,
announced that they were on the alert; and a corresponding signal was
immediately heard from the Americans. The bugle of the Virginians struck
up its martial tones; and in a few moments both the hills, the one held
by the royal troops and the other by their enemies, were alive with
armed men. Day had begun to dawn, and preparations were making by both
parties, to give and to receive the attack. In numbers the Americans had
greatly the advantage; but in discipline and equipment the superiority
was entirely with their enemies. The arrangements for the battle were
brief, and by the time the sun rose the militia moved forward.
The ground did not admit of the movements of horse; and the only duty
that could be assigned to the dragoons was to watch the moment of
victory, and endeavor to improve the success to the utmost. Lawton soon
got his warriors into the saddle; and leaving them to the charge of
Hollister, he rode himself along the line of foot, who, in varied
dresses, and imperfectly armed, were formed in a shape that in some
degree resembled a martial array. A scornful smile lowered about the lip
of the trooper as he guided Roanoke with a skillful hand through the
windings of their ranks; and when the word was given to march, he turned
the flank of the regiment, and followed close in the rear. The Americans
had to descend into a little hollow, and rise a hill on its opposite
side, to approach the enemy.
The descent was made with tolerable steadiness, until near the foot of
the hill, when the royal troops advanced in a beautiful line, with their
flanks protected by the formation of the ground. The appearance of the
British drew a fire from the militia, which was given with good effect,
and for a moment staggered the regulars. But they were rallied by their
officers, and threw in volley after volley with great steadiness. For a
short time the fire was warm and destructive, until the English advanced
with the bayonet. This assault the militia had not sufficient discipline
to withstand. Their line wavered, then paused, and finally broke into
companies and fragments of companies, keeping up at the same time a
scattering and desultory fire.
Lawton witnessed these operations in silence, nor did he open his mouth
until the field was covered with parties of the flying Americans. Then,
indeed, he seemed stung with the disgrace thus heaped upon the arms of
his country. Spurring Roanoke along the side of the hill, he called to
the fugitives in all the strength of his powerful voice. He pointed to
the enemy, and assured his countrymen that they had mistaken the way.
There was such a mixture of indifference and irony in his exhortations
that a few paused in surprise--more joined them, until, roused by the
example of the trooper, and stimulated by their own spirit, they
demanded to be led against their foe once more.
"Come on, then, my brave friends!" shouted the trooper, turning his
horse's head towards the British line, one flank of which was very near
him; "come on, and hold your fire until it will scorch their eyebrows."
The men sprang forward, and followed his example, neither giving nor
receiving a fire until they had come within a very short distance of the
enemy. An English sergeant, who had been concealed by a rock, enraged
with the audacity of the officer who thus dared their arms, stepped from
behind his cover, and leveled his musket.
"Fire and you die!" cried Lawton, spurring his charger, which leaped
forward at the instant. The action and the tone of his voice shook the
nerves of the Englishman, who drew his trigger with an uncertain aim.
Roanoke sprang with all his feet from the earth, and, plunging, fell
headlong and lifeless at the feet of his destroyer. Lawton kept his
feet, standing face to face with his enemy. The latter presented his
bayonet, and made a desperate thrust at the trooper's heart. The steel
of their weapons emitted sparks of fire, and the bayonet flew fifty feet
in the air. At the next moment its owner lay a quivering corpse.
"Come on!" shouted the trooper, as a body of English appeared on the
rock, and threw in a close fire. "Come on!" he repeated, and brandished
his saber fiercely. Then his gigantic form fell backward, like a
majestic pine yielding to the ax; but still, as he slowly fell, he
continued to wield his saber, and once more the deep tones of his voice
were heard uttering, "Come on!"
The advancing Americans paused aghast, and, turning, they abandoned the
field to the royal troops.
It was neither the intention nor the policy of the English commander to
pursue his success, for he well knew that strong parties of the
Americans would soon arrive; accordingly he only tarried to collect his
wounded, and forming in a square, he commenced his retreat towards the
shipping. Within twenty minutes of the fall of Lawton, the ground was
deserted by both English and Americans. When the inhabitants of the
country were called upon to enter the field, they were necessarily
attended by such surgical advisers as were furnished by the low state of
the profession in the interior at that day. Dr. Sitgreaves entertained
quite as profound a contempt for the medical attendants of the militia
as the captain did of the troops themselves. He wandered, therefore,
around the field, casting many a glance of disapprobation at the slight
operations that came under his eye; but when, among the flying troops,
he found that his comrade and friend was nowhere to be seen, he hastened
back to the spot at which Hollister was posted, to inquire if the
trooper had returned. Of course, the answer was in the negative. Filled
with a thousand uneasy conjectures, the surgeon, without regarding, or
indeed without at all reflecting upon any dangers that might lie in his
way, strode over the ground at an enormous rate, to the point where he
knew the final struggle had been. Once before, the surgeon had rescued
his friend from death in a similar situation; and he felt a secret joy
in his own conscious skill, as he perceived Betty Flanagan seated on the
ground, holding in her lap the head of a man whose size and dress he
knew could belong only to the trooper. As he approached the spot, the
surgeon became alarmed at the aspect of the washerwoman. Her little
black bonnet was thrown aside, and her hair, which was already streaked
with gray, hung around her face in disorder.
"John! dear John!" said the doctor, tenderly, as he bent and laid his
hand upon the senseless wrist of the trooper, from which it recoiled
with an intuitive knowledge of his fate. "John! where are you hurt?--can
I help you?"
"Ye talk to the senseless clay," said Betty, rocking her body, and
unconsciously playing with the raven ringlets of the trooper's hair;
"it's no more will he hear, and it's but little will he mind yeer
probes and yeer med'cines. Och hone," och hone!--and where will be the
liberty now? or who will there be to fight the battle, or gain the day?"
"John!" repeated the surgeon, still unwilling to believe the evidence of
his unerring senses. "Dear John, speak to me; say what you will, that
you do but speak. Oh, God! he is dead; would that I had died with him!"
"There is but little use in living and fighting now," said Betty. "Both
him and the baste! see, there is the poor cratur, and here is the
master! I fed the horse with my own hands, the day; and the last male
that _he_ ate was of my own cooking. Och hone! och hone!--that Captain
Jack should live to be killed by the rig'lars!"
"John! my dear John!" said the surgeon, with convulsive sobs, "thy hour
has come, and many a more prudent man survives thee; but none better,
nor braver. O John, thou wert to me a kind friend, and very dear; it is
unphilosophical to grieve; but for thee I must weep, in bitterness
of heart."
The doctor buried his face in his hands, and for several minutes sat
yielding to an ungovernable burst of sorrow; while the washerwoman gave
vent to her grief in words, moving her body in a kind of writhing, and
playing with different parts of her favorite's dress with her fingers.
"And who'll there be to encourage the boys now?" she said. "O Captain
Jack! ye was the sowl of the troop, and it was but little we knowed of
the danger, and ye fighting. Och! he was no maly-mouthed, that quarreled
wid a widowed woman for the matter of a burn in the mate, or the want of
a breakfast. Taste a drop, darling, and it may be, 'twill revive ye.
Och! and he'll niver taste ag'in; here's the doctor, honey, him ye used
to blarney wid, waping as if the poor sowl would die for ye. Och! he's
gone, he's gone; and the liberty is gone with him."
A thundering sound of horses' feet came rolling along the road which led
near the place where Lawton lay, and directly the whole body of
Virginians appeared, with Dunwoodie at their head. The news of the
captain's fate had reached him, for the instant that he saw the body he
halted the squadron, and, dismounting, approached the spot. The
countenance of Lawton was not in the least distorted, but the angry
frown which had lowered over his brow during the battle was fixed even
in death. His frame was composed, and stretched as in sleep. Dunwoodie
took hold of his hand, and gazed a moment in silence; his own dark eye
kindled, and the paleness which had overspread his features was
succeeded by a spot of deep red in either cheek.
"With his own sword will I avenge him!" he cried, endeavoring to take
the weapon from the hand of Lawton; but the grasp resisted his utmost
strength. "It shall be buried with him. Sitgreaves, take care of our
friend, while I revenge his death."
The major hastened back to his charger, and led the way in pursuit of
the enemy.
While Dunwoodie had been thus engaged, the body of Lawton lay in open
view of the whole squadron. He was a universal favorite, and the sight
inflamed the men to the utmost: neither officers nor soldiers possessed
that coolness which is necessary to insure success in military
operations; they spurred after their enemies, burning for vengeance.
The English were formed in a hollow square, which contained their
wounded, who were far from numerous, and were marching steadily across a
very uneven country as the dragoons approached. The horse charged in
column, and were led by Dunwoodie, who, burning with revenge, thought to
ride through their ranks, and scatter them at a blow. But the enemy knew
their own strength too well, and, standing firm, they received the
charge on the points of their bayonets. The horses of the Virginians
recoiled, and the rear rank of the foot throwing in a close fire, the
major, with a few men, fell. The English continued their retreat the
moment they were extricated from their assailants; and Dunwoodie, who
was severely, but not dangerously wounded, recalled his men from further
attempts, which must be fruitless.
A sad duty remained to be fulfilled. The dragoons retired slowly through
the hills, conveying their wounded commander, and the body of Lawton.
The latter they interred under the ramparts of one of the Highland
forts, and the former they consigned to the tender care of his
afflicted bride.
Many weeks were gone before the major was restored to sufficient
strength to be removed. During those weeks, how often did he bless the
moment that gave him a right to the services of his beautiful nurse! She
hung around his couch with fond attention, administered with her own
hands every prescription of the indefatigable Sitgreaves, and grew each
hour in the affections and esteem of her husband. An order from
Washington soon sent the troops into winter quarters, and permission was
given to Dunwoodie to repair to his own plantation, with the rank of
lieutenant colonel, in order to complete the restoration of his health.
Captain Singleton made one of the party; and the whole family retired
from the active scenes of the war, to the ease and plenty of the major's
own estate. Before leaving Fishkill, however, letters were conveyed to
them, through an unknown hand, acquainting them with Henry's safety and
good health; and also that Colonel Wellmere had left the continent for
his native island, lowered in the estimation of every honest man in the
royal army.
It was a happy winter for Dunwoodie, and smiles once more began to play
around the lovely mouth of Frances.