IN THE LINES OF THE ENEMY
It was near the end of the first watch when an order came to me to
pick out several men, go forward, feel the enemy's outposts, and see
if the enemy was still retreating.
Making my choice, I passed our pickets with three men, and made my way
cautiously to the last pass in the hills which was in the enemy's
possession at nightfall. But not a sign of their pickets or troops
could I find; so I boldly advanced in the pass, and, crossing the
ridge, found myself on the heights overlooking Freehold. It was a
small town of scattered houses, and beyond it I could see the lights
of the British camp-fires.
But as the heights were not near enough for our purpose, we descended
into the plain, and carefully made our way toward the town, where I
knew certain patriots were, who, if I could once get speech with them,
would tell me the whole plans of the enemy.
We could hear the tramp of feet at the further side of the village,
and all the sounds of an army in retreat. Being now so close to them,
and in great danger, we moved with the utmost caution. Near at hand,
on the outskirts of the town, stood a large, square stone house,
separated from the rest of the houses by an immense garden. Having
found a break in the hedge, we entered.
It was an old garden, filled with boxwood walks and flowers run wild.
Very prim at one time it must have been; but, now that the war had
helped the return to nature, it was a wild and tangled mass.
Making our way through the garden, a light was suddenly thrown upon
our path, and, glancing up, I saw that it came from a window which,
though it was on the first floor of the house, was yet some distance
from the ground.
Then the figure of a woman crossed the window, stopping for a moment
to look out, while we stood in the shadow of the hedge, holding our
breath. But she passed on, and I, determining to see into the room to
discover whether it contained friend or foe, quickly gained the
shelter of the wall of the house. The wall was of rough hewn stone,
and with the help of my comrades' shoulders, I raised myself high
enough to glance over the window-sill, and what I saw there made me
drop to the ground quickly.
Then, whispering to my comrades to stay where they were, I made my way
to the rear entrance of the house, and, finding the door unfastened,
softly entered the hall; and then I was standing in the door of the
room from which the light came.
A lamp stood on a table near a long horse-hair sofa with spindle legs,
on which lay the figure of a man. The coat had been cut from his
shoulder, which was swathed in many bandages, while the blood-stained
rags on the table and the floor told of the seriousness of the wound.
A slender figure was bending over him, gently arranging a pillow under
his head.
"Do you feel easier now, father?"
"Yes, lassie." Then, a moment later, "Why does not Clinton send me a
carriage? He surely does not intend to desert me here."
"Captain Farquharson is searching for one," she answered. And then
turning to the table, she saw me standing in the doorway. The colour
left her face; she gave a little cry, for she thought there were many
men behind me, and that all was lost. So, quickly putting my finger to
my lips, I stepped back into the darkness of the hall, and as I did
so, I heard the old Tory ask, "What's that?"
"It was nothing," she answered. "I thought I saw a ghost."
I stood there in the broad window waiting, for I knew she would come.
Below me was the garden, heavy-scented with the odour of flowers, and
the hum of the night insects was everywhere in the air. Close to the
wall I saw the figures of my scouts. The noise of the tramp of feet,
the creak of waggons, and the voice of command came to me from the
village street.
At last she came and stood before me. In her eyes were great pain and
fear and suffering.
"Tell me," she asked anxiously, "is there any danger for him?"
"More danger for me than for him," I replied. "The whole American
advance guard consists of three men and myself; the rest will follow
in the morning."
"Ah," she cried, and there was hope once more in her voice; "then we
can escape."
"If you can move your father by sunrise, yes," I replied.
"But you," she said, and there was new anxiety in her voice; "you are
in great danger here. When the soldiers come to remove father they
will take you prisoner."
"I care not, Mistress Jean," I answered, "for your eyes have held me
prisoner for many a long day, and all the prison bars in the world are
nothing to me so long as I can look into them."
"Nay," she said, "you must not say such things to me."
And I, taking this as a confirmation of all my fears and that at last
Farquharson had succeeded in his suit, would have bade her good-bye
and gone my way. But before I went I told her of my wishes for her
happiness, and that I had met Farquharson and knew of his skill and
courage.
"Farquharson?" and her eyes were wide open in surprise. "I really
believe you think I am going to marry him;" and she laughed so softly,
bewitchingly, that--
"Jean, Jean," I cried, now that hope and life had come back with a
rush, "Jean, do you know that I love you; that I love the very ground
on which you walk, the sunbeams in your hair, the very air you
breathe? Ah! Jean--" But at that moment came the voice of the Tory
calling her and the tramp of feet on the porch.
"Let me go," she cried, for I held her hands in mine; "and fly,--that
is the guard."
"Nay," said I, "not till you give me a kiss. I will stay here and be
captured first."
There was a moment's hesitation, and then a flash of white arms, and
the softest caress--ah, such a caress that the memory of it will go
with me to the grave. And then she was gone.
And I, not wishing to be captured now, slipped through the rear door
to my men, and a short time later, having satisfied ourselves of the
retreat of the enemy's forces, we made our way back over the hills to
report to the General.
We followed the enemy closely the next day, and did not draw off until
we saw them beyond our reach at Sandy Hook.
Then we took our way to the Jersey hills, and lay there for a time
watching the enemy in New York.