“Then marched the brave from rocky steep,
From mountain river, swift and cold.
The borders of the stormy deep,
The vales where gathered waters sleep,
Bent up the strong and bold.”--_Bryant_
The bold and decisive measures of the Council of Safety had by this
time begun to manifest themselves in results little anticipated by the
adherents of the royal cause in Vermont. The latter, emboldened both by
the presence of a powerful British army on their borders, and the doubts
and difficulties which, for a while, were known to have embarrassed and
rendered ineffectual the deliberations of their opponents, had become
so assured and confident of an easy conquest, that in some sections they
proceeded openly in the work of enlistment, and in others pushed forward
their parties into the very heart of the interior, before perceiving
their error; while, by their representations at headquarters, they
completely deceived Burgoyne and his advisers respecting the true state
of feeling that animated the bosoms of the great mass of the people--a
fact made abundantly evident, not only by the subsequent confessions of
that general, but by all his operations at the time, and especially that
of the short-sighted expedition, which we have before shown him to have
planned and set afoot, under Peters, to the Connecticut River. It was
no wonder, therefore, that when they now suddenly discovered the whole
state in motion--armed men springing up in every glen, nook, and corner
of the Green Mountains, and concentrating to join another no less
unexpected, and no less formidable force, which was understood to be
rapidly advancing from New Hampshire--it was no wonder they were taken
wholly by surprise, and slunk silently away to their retreats, or
immediately fled to the British army, whom they still neglected to
undeceive.
It was about one week subsequent to the events last recited; and the
interim had been marked with little, as far as immediately concerned
the action of our story, and those of its personages to whom we must now
return--with very little to which pen can do justice, except what
the reader's imagination probably has already anticipated; for though
thrilling events may be described with a good degree of adequacy, there
are yet certain states of high wrought feeling that language can never
but feebly portray. The search for the lost maiden, on the eventful
night of her capture and escape, had been, as the reader will have
inferred, as vain and fruitless as it was agonizing to her lover, and
anxious to all. The renewal of the search next day, till afternoon,
had been no better rewarded. More force having then arrived, the tory
encampment was assailed, but found empty of occupants, who had, some
hours before, scattered and fled. Still unwilling to relinquish his
object, Woodburn, with a small party of his friends, continued his
efforts in wider ranges through the forest, which, on the third morning,
brought him to the cabin in which her most fearful trials had occurred;
when the dead wolf, the remnants of the slain Indians, not yet wholly
carried off by the foxes or returning wolves, the guns, the torn and
blood-stained earth, and, above all, the white shreds of some part of
female apparel, discolored and scattered round the room, told a tale,
that, in spite of the entreaties of his sympathizing friends, who deemed
the evidence not yet wholly conclusive, drove the appalled lover, in a
frenzy of grief and horror, from the dreadful scene.
It was about a week, as we have said, after that night of adventure and
excitement. Three companies of the newly-enlisted regiment of Rangers,
embracing all the recruits yet raised on the east side of the mountains,
were paraded in the road before Coffin's tavern, while their officers
were standing listless on the grass in front, and occasionally throwing
inquiring glances along the road to the east, as if awaiting some
expected arrival from that quarter. At length Woodburn, on whose brow
rested an air of gloomy sternness, advanced, and calling his sergeant
and scoutmaster, Dunning, to his side, in a low tone, imparted to him
some private order or suggestion; when the latter, beckoning from the
ranks his and the reader's old acquaintance, Bill Piper, who was also
a subaltern in the same company, the two laid aside their guns and
equipments, and proceeded leisurely down the road, the way in which the
attention of all seemed directed. After proceeding about a quarter of
a mile, they came to a turn in the road, which, now becoming invisible
from the tavern, led down a long hill, and entered an extended piece of
woods nearly another quarter of a mile distant.
“Well,” said Dunning, here pausing and casting his eyes forward to the
woods, “they der don't seem to make their appearance yet. I ditter think
they must have halted there by the brook to drink and rest a little so
we will stop at this point, where we can see both ways; and when the
troops begin to show themselves, we'll then give the signal.”
With this, they threw themselves down in the cool shade of a tree by the
way side, and, for a while, yielded themselves to that listless, dreamy
mood, which reclining in the shade, after exercise, on a warm day,
almost invariably induces.
“Dunning,” said Piper, at length rousing up a little, and drawing from
his pocket a well-filled leathern purse, which he carelessly chinked
against his upraised knee, by way of preliminary--“Dunning, it is a
mystery to me where all this stuff comes from. Six weeks ago, it was
thought there were scarcely a thousand hard dollars, except what was in
tory families, in all the _Grants_. Now, there must be well on to that
sum even in our own company, every recruit having been paid his bounty
and month's advance pay, in silver or gold, on the spot. Where does it
come from?”
“From the sales of the der tory estates, of which they have been making
a clean sweep, you know,” replied the other.
“Yes, yes, we all know that, I suppose; but where do the purchasers of
these estates get the money to buy with?” rejoined the former.
“I never ditter catechized them about it,” said the hunter, evasively.
“Nor I,” remarked Piper; “but I have lately heard a curious story about
the matter. They say there has been a sort of homespun-looking old
fellow, that nobody seems to know, following the commissioners of sales
round, from place to place, with an old horse and cart, seemingly loaded
with wooden ware, or some such kind of gear, for peddling; and that he
has bid off a great part of all the farms, and stock on them, which have
been sold, paying down for them on the spot in hard money, which they
say he carries about with him tied up in old stockings, and hid away in
his load of trumpery. Some mistrust he is a Jew; and some are afraid he
is a British agent, not only buying up farms, but also the Council of
Safety, who are also strangely full of money these days.”
“That last would prove a rather ditter tough bargain for him and his
masters, I reckon,” responded the hunter, dryly.
“Yes, that is all nonsense, no doubt,” observed Piper. “But still it is
a mystery to my mind, how money, that a short time ago was so scarce,
should now all at once be so plenty; and that was the reason I raised
the question before you, who generally know pretty near what is going on
among our head men, and who, I thought likely, could easily explain this
secret.”
“No,” said the other; “no, Bill; there might be der trouble about that.
When a state secret falls into my ears, it is not so easy to get it out
of my mouth. I've got an impediment in my ditter speech, you know,” he
added, with a slight twinkle of the eye.
“Your mouth goes off well enough on some public matters, I find,”
remarked Piper, with an air fluctuating between a miff and a laugh.
“Der yes, to say, for instance, that the decree to confiscate and
sell the tory estates was a ditter righteous one--has worked like a
charm--called out the rusty dollars from their hiding-places thick as
der bumblebees in June--ditter drove off the blue devils from among the
people, and raised a regiment of men in less than three weeks!”
“Ah! and a fine regiment, too, it will be. I long to see it all wrought
together, for I don't know a tenth of them--men or officers--not even
our colonel.”
“Herrick? Well, I can't der quite say I should know him now; but he is a
ditter go-ahead fellow, who loves the smell of gunpowder nearly as well
as Seth Warner himself, whose pupil he is in the trade. We shall have
the pleasure of seeing him in a few minutes, probably, as Coffin told me
he passed along here night before last, on the way to _Number Four_, to
come on with Stark. _That_ may be told without ditter mischief.”
“And so may another thing, perhaps, which I should like to know,
Dunning.”
“Der what is that, Bill?”
“Why, you know that Bart, the night after we discovered the place where
we supposed the girl was destroyed, disappeared, and has not been here
since. Where have they sent him, and what after?”
“Piper, you are as brave as a lion, and as strong as a horse, der
doubtless; but your tongue may ditter need training, for all that.
Still, as you mean right, and will probably learn to bridle that unruly
member only by practice, I will, for once, put you to the trial. Bart
has gone a spy to the British camp. Though Harry, in his despair, would
for a while believe nothing but that she was der dead, or worse, yet,
as I and others, putting all things together, hoped and reasoned ditter
different, in part, and thought she might not have been killed there,
but retaken; and, for fear of pursuit, hurried off directly to the
British, he concluded to despatch Bart to his friend Allen, of the
Council, to take advice, and then proceed in some disguise or other,
right into the lion's den--ascertain whether the girl was there--and,
after ditter learning what he could about the enemy's movements, return
with the news.”
“Well, I'll be chunked if the project wan't a bold one! But if any
creature on earth can carry it out, it is Bart; and he will, unless they
get word from this quarter that such a fellow is among them. Ah! I
now see the need of a close mouth on the subject, and will keep one,
thanking you kindly, Dunning, for your caution and confidence.”
“It will be all right, I presume, Bill, now you perceive Bart's neck
may depend on your ditter discretion. But who have we there?” added the
speaker, pointing down the road towards the woods.
While Dunning and Piper were thus engrossed in conversation, two men, on
foot, had emerged from the woods and approached within a hundred yards,
before attracting the attention of the former. They were without coats,
or in their shirt sleeves, as, in common parlance, is the phrase for
such undress; and, having handkerchiefs tied round their heads, and
carrying in their hands rough sticks, picked up by the way-side, for
canes, they presented an appearance, as they leisurely came along up
the ascending road, with occasional glances back towards the woods,
that left Dunning and his companion wholly in doubt, while attempting to
decide who or what they were.
“Now, who knows,” said the wary hunter, “but they may be der tory spies,
hanging round the skirts of Stark's army, and intending soon to be off
cross-lots to the British, to report his progress. I'll ditter banter
them a little, at all hazards, before we let 'em pass.”
But as the strangers drew near, their appearance grew less and less like
that of the ordinary footpads for whom they had been taken; and there
was something in their bearing which considerably shook, though it
did not wholly alter, the hunter's intention to banter them. One was
a strongly-built, broad-chested man, with a high head, hardy brown
features, and a countenance betokening much cool energy and decision
of character. The other was rather less stocky, and slightly taller, of
quicker motions, but withal a prompt, resolute-looking person.
“Well, my friends,” said the former, coming up and pausing before the
expectant Rangers, with an air that seemed to challenge conversation,
“this is Coffin's tavern here ahead, I suppose. Will the captain be
pleased, think ye, to see a little company about this time?”
“Der yes,” replied Dunning, eyeing the speaker with a curious, half
doubtful and half quizzing expression. “Yes, if of the right sort,
he wont ditter cry, I reckon. But the captain is sometimes rather
particular--for instance, if you should happen to be tories----”
“Tories!--do we look like tories?” demanded the former glancing to his
companion with a droll, surprised look.
“Why der no,” replied the hunter, a little abashed, “I ditter think
not.”
“Well, I had hoped not,” rejoined the man. “But who are you, my
friend--one of the Green Mountain Boys, that we hear so much about?”
“Not far from the mark, sergeant, or commissary, or whatever is your
ditter title; for you belong to the army that's at hand, I take it?”
said Dunning.
“O, yes,” briskly returned the other, again looking at his companion,
and joining him in a merry laugh. “Yes, I am one of them, and mean to
have a hand in stirring up Burgoyne, when we reach him, I assure you.”
“That's right, commissary!” exclaimed Dunning. “You are a der chap of
some pluck, I'll warrant it. I begin to ditter like you. What shall I
call your name, friend?”
“My name is John Stark, if you will allow,” replied the stranger, with
an amused look.
“John Stark? Why, that's your der general's name!” said the hunter,
incredulously. “Come, come, friend, you are ditter gumming me. I have
seen John Stark--Captain Stark, that was then--now general--the same
that was bought back by our folks for a white pony--ditter dog cheap,
too, as the British will find, before he is der done with them, or
I mistake the amount of fight that's in the critter, amazingly.”
[Footnote: When General Stark was exposed for sale in Montreal, by the
Indians, by whom he had been captured in the French war, and some of his
countrymen were trying in vain to make his savage master set a price on
him, an English gentleman happened to ride by on a handsome white pony,
which so greatly struck the Indian's fancy, that, pointing after the
coveted animal, he exclaimed, “Ah! ugh! me take that you get him.”
Whereupon the gentleman was followed, the pony purchased, and, with it,
the captive Stark redeemed.]
“Thank you, sir!” heartily exclaimed the former, now evidently as much
gratified as amused at what he heard. “In behalf of that same John
Stark, I thank you, sir, for your good opinion of him. But where, my
good fellow,” he continued, with at look of lively interest, “where did
you ever fall in with Captain Stark?”
“Why, in the old war, when he der marched through here with Colonel
Hawk, I ditter acted as the colonel's guide over the mountains to Otter
Creek. Stark, as I've said, was one of the captains, though I wasn't
much with him, to be sure,” replied the hunter, becoming more doubtful
and puzzled every moment, at the turn matters were taking.
“Ah! yes, yes,--our hunter guide on that rough march! I remember now.
Well, well, the fault is not wholly on one side after all!” said the
other, musingly.
“Der--der--ditter how? der--ditter--” began Dunning opening his eyes
with an uneasy stare.
“This is General Stark, my boys,” here quickly interposed the other
gentleman. “I see by your badges that you belong to the Rangers. I am
your colonel, Herrick, and this the general himself, who, by way of
relief from a long ride in the saddle, threw off his uniform, like
myself, down in the woods yonder, and walked on, while the troops were
halting to refresh a moment, and recover from the effects of their
march in this scalding heat, before they made their appearance at your
rendezvous. They will now be on the move shortly.”
“Der--der--ditter--” cried the confused hunter, rising hurriedly to his
feet, and lifting his cap, in a tremor of respectful deprecation, before
the general, while his tongue began to trip and fly in the vain attempt
to get out an apology--“der--der--ditter--ditter--ditter--”
“Never mind, my brave fellow!” exclaimed Stark, with a hearty slap on
the other's shoulder; “never mind a mistake so naturally growing out
of our unmilitary guise. No offence, even had your remarks been less
pleasant. But you, sir!--why, you have paid me the greatest compliment I
ever had in my life!”
“No--no offence whatever to either of us,” added Herrick. “But yonder
come the columns of our friends and helpers from New Hampshire. If
you are here to give notice of their approach, as I suppose, make
the signal, and back to your post. And here, general,” he continued,
pointing to two fine-looking and gayly caparisoned horses, now led up by
waiters, with the coats, swords, sashes, and great military cocked hats
of the denuded officers swinging on their arms--“here, general, come our
horses and uniforms. Let us rig up before a worse mistake shall befall
us.”
With a curious mixture of chagrin and gratification at what had just
occurred, the two Rangers now made the appointed signal, and hurried
back to join their companions in arms at the tavern. And in a few
minutes, the fine little brigade of the hardy and resolute New Hampshire
Boys, headed by their intrepid leader, now equipped in imposing
regimentals, and mounted on his curvetting charger, came pouring along
the plain in all the pomp of martial array, and were received by the
customary military salutes, and the reiterated cheers of their congenial
welcomers of the Green Mountains.
The hour that succeeded was a bustling and a joyous one. The greetings,
the introductions, the mutual compliments for deeds done at Ticonderoga
and Bunker Hill, and the merry jokes given and taken, as the mingling
forces partook of the good cheer prepared for the whole at the expense
of the public or patriotic individuals, together with the strong
community of feeling that agitated their bosoms in view of a common
object to be accomplished, and common dangers to be encountered,--all
combined to render the scene one of no ordinary interest and animation.
At length, the drums of the different companies began to beat to
arms, and the soldiers were seen gathering at their respective stands,
preparatory to the march of the combined forces across the mountains.
At this juncture, a single horseman came galloping along the road from
the west; and, the next moment, Ira Allen, the active and untiring
secretary of the Council of Safety, with a countenance betokening good
or exciting news, rode up to the door, and, throwing himself from the
saddle, turned to receive the greetings of his acquaintances gathering
round him. With a significant look and gesture to Woodburn to follow,
he led the way to an unoccupied room, at length found in the crowded
tavern.
“What news do you bring, Mr. Allen?” said Woodburn, with an effort at
calmness, as soon as the two were by themselves.
“That which will scatter the blackest part of that cloud on your brow,
I trust, my dear fellow,” replied Allen, with an animated and exulting
air. “Here, look at this!” he added, pulling out and presenting a small
and closely-folded letter.
With trembling eagerness, Woodburn seized the missive, and, with
a glance at the well-known hand of the superscription, “To Captain
Woodburn, or Mr. Allen, of the Council,” opened it, and read as
follows:--
“I am at the British head-quarters--not exactly a prisoner but evidently
a closely-watched personage, having reached here with my captors, after
a forced and fatiguing journey, which however, was not made unpleasant
by any disrespectful treatment. Although the party, to whom I became a
prisoner, have been frightened back or recalled, and the expedition,
of which they were the advance, given up, yet I think it my duty to
say that another, and much more formidable one, is in agitation against
Bennington. I hope our people will be prepared for it, and show these
haughty Britons that they do not deserve the name of the undisciplined
rabble of poltroons and cowards by which I here daily hear them branded.
S. H.”
We will not attempt to describe the emotions of Woodburn on the
occasion. But the letter disclosed that which involved more momentous
interests than those merely that concerned the individual feelings of
a lover. And it was soon concluded to lay it before General Stark, who,
with Colonel Herrick, was then called in, the letter shown, and all
the attending circumstances, past and present, so far as concerned the
public to know, fully explained.
Mean while the troops were drawn up, in marching order, before the
tavern, and stood wondering why their general did not appear, or, at
least, give order for the column to move onward.
At length, however, the long expected leader, attended by those with
whom he had been in consultation, made his appearance at the door,
and ordered the horses of those who were to travel mounted to be led
forward.
“There's something more than common on John Stark's mind,” whispered a
tall New Hampshire Boy, to his fellow in the ranks. “See how his eyes
snap! I am an old neighbor of his, you know, and can read him like a
book. I shouldn't be surprised if we heard from him soon; for he an't
one of those that like to keep chawing on a thing that makes him feel,
but wants to out with it, and always will, unless he has good reason for
a close mouth. Yes, I'll bet a goose we hear from him before we start.”
The speaker had conjectured rightly. Stark was heard to say to Allen,--
“Mount and ride along against the centre there, sir, where you can best
be heard. We must have it; for, besides preparing their minds for what
they probably must soon meet, it will make a battle cry for your boys
and mine as potent, for aught we can tell, as was the name of Joan of
Arc among the Frenchmen.”
The officers, with Allen, then sprung into their saddles; and as the
latter reached his allotted post, and faced round to the lines, the
general commanded attention, and added,--
“My men, let me introduce you to Mr. Allen, the patriotic secretary of
the Vermont Council of Safety, and say that I hold myself voucher for
the truth of what he shall tell you. Listen to his communication.”
The secretary, now bowing respectfully to the attentive and already
prepossessed ranks before him, began by saying that among the recreant
few of any note in the Green Mountains, who had basely deserted their
country and joined the enemy, there was one who had a daughter of
whom he was wholly unworthy. The speaker then proceeded to relate Miss
Haviland's noble stand for the American cause, from which she was not
to be allured or driven by all the inducements and menaces held out by a
tory father and lover, both of whom had received royal commissions--her
absolute refusal to go with them, on their late departure for the
British army, and her more recent capture and abduction, while on her
way to her friends, by the probable instigation of the rejected lover,
and with the connivance, perhaps, of the father; all of which was
concluded by reading the letter just received, it was added, by a trusty
messenger, who had gone in disguise to the enemy's camp to receive it,
and who had now returned to keep open the important communication.
“Men of New Hampshire!” now cried Stark, in a loud, animated voice, as
with flashing eyes he glanced over the throng of upturned and excited
faces before him, “is it any wonder the Green Mountain Boys are so
gallant and brave in fighting for their wives and sweethearts, when such
is a specimen? Will you join them in defence of their homes and country,
and help fulfil this matchless girl's expectations when we meet that
taunting foe at Bennington, as by God's favor we will? If so, then let
it now be told in three cheers for _the good cause_, and as many more as
you please for _The Tory's Daughter!_”
The next instant, as the bidden drummers brought their sticks to the
bounding parchment of their instruments with blows that seemingly would
have thrown their arms from their shoulders, a thousand men were seen
leaping wildly into the air, and giving their patriotic response in
a round of cheers that rent the ringing heavens above, and shook the
startled wilderness for miles around them.
“Order in the ranks!” at length broke in the deep, stern voice of the
general, as the last cheer was dying away. “Prepare to march! March!”
And the excited troops could scarcely be kept in their places as, with
the stirring strains of lively fife and rattling drum, they went rushing
and pouring along on their way to the seat of war.