The conversation around our Yule fire, to which I had listened with such
eager absorption, had caused my budding convictions to bloom in an hour
into fully expanded principles. I had caught the fever of patriotism
running like an epidemic through the land. Were not we of Scotch Irish
race and Presbyterian faith pledged already to the cause since the first
blood shed for American liberty was the blood of the Scotch Irish
Presbyterians, spilled at the battle of Alamance, when the stern North
Carolina "Regulators" had risen, like Cromwell's "Ironsides," against
the tyranny of their royal governor? The "Boston Tea Party," therefore,
found quickest sympathy among the Scotch Irish of the Southern and
Middle States, and the earliest and grimmest of the resolutions sent up
to the several assemblies, urging that Massachusetts be sustained, and
kingly tyranny determinedly resisted, came from the towns and counties
settled by these people. "Freedom or death" was the consuming sentiment
in the hearts of many Scotch Irish Americans for months before the
typical orator of that race thrilled a continent by speaking those
immortal words, "Give me liberty, or give me death."
* * * * *
The first call issued by Congress for troops named seven rifle companies
to be recruited in Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia. Again I put
aside my books, only this time I gave them to a fellow student who
sorely needed them, and went home to tell my father that I meant to
enlist. I recall as vividly as 'twere yesterday that calm spring
afternoon when I took the short cut across flower spangled meadows, and
bosky, sweet scented woods to the humble home which had given me a youth
so rich in love and happiness, but which I was so soon to leave for
privations, dangers, and temptations such as had not yet entered into my
imagination.
It was the year of my majority, and I was already mature in physical
development. Even in our neighborhood of "brawny Scotchmen" I was called
tall, measuring six feet three inches in my moccasins, and though
somewhat spare, was broad of shoulder, long of limb, muscular, agile,
and deep winded; moreover, I could ride and shoot with the best man in
the valley. More proud was I, at this time, of my strength, and the keen
sight of my gray eyes, than of my brown, curling hair, and the general
comeliness of my appearance, in which my mother took such pride. A few
months later I was to have my hour of vanity, and to eat the fruit of
it.
Few men, I imagine, can separate their lives sharply into boyhood and
manhood, but mine I can. That last Christmas holiday of my schooldays
marked the line of division, and I took the first step across it the day
I saved Ellen from the bear's fangs, and the second the hour I formed
the resolution to shoulder my rifle for American liberty. My father, it
is true, had chosen to treat me as a man, since the Indian raid, but
from the hour I made up my mind to enlist I put aside childish things,
and bore myself with a consciousness of manhood's power.
* * * * *
A stranger sat on our porch who, hearing me announce impetuously to my
father, as he came to the top of the porch steps to meet me, that "I
meant to enlist in one of the rifle companies," sprang up from his
chair, seized my hand, shook it heartily, and said with a genial smile,
and cordial tone that made my spirit go out to him at a leap,
"You're a lad after my own heart, sir! Are there many more like you in
this valley? How old is your son, Justice McElroy?"
"Not long past twenty, sir. Donald, this is Captain Morgan, the renowned
Indian fighter of whom you have so often heard. He is in the
neighborhood to enlist men for his rifle company, so you have not far to
go to fulfill your purpose."
I looked now, you may be sure, with fresh interest at the powerful but
graceful figure before me. He was nearly as tall as I, but broader and
heavier; his tanned, handsome face was marred by a scar on the right
cheek, and I noted even in this first hasty scrutiny an indication of
stubborn will in the set of his lips, and a dare devil gleam in his fine
eyes that would make one hesitate to pick a quarrel with him.
"I have found my captain," I thought, my pulse throbbing joyously, just
as he spoke again, with that ring of cheerful courage in his voice which
I was to learn to know so well, and so often to be inspired by.
"That we shall win admits no doubt if I can enlist a company of muscular
young giants like you. Can you shoot, lad?"
"Aye, that he can," laughed my father, well pleased, I could see, by
Captain Morgan's manner toward me. "Cut off a squirrel's head at a
distance of three hundred yards. And there are other marksmen in our
valley that can fully equal him, though few as tall as my son Donald,"
and he laid a caressing hand upon my shoulder.
"You shall be one of my sergeants, lad," continued Captain Morgan,
seizing my hand again, "and to-morrow you must ride with me to enlist as
many like you as this neighborhood affords."
"Unfortunately, Captain Morgan," said my father, "some of those who
would like nothing better than the opportunity to strike a blow for our
rights, dare not leave their families and homes here unprotected,
subject as we are to the raids of the savages from across the mountain.
Enough able-bodied men must be left in the valley to turn back Indian
forays, though, since our victory over them at Point Pleasant, our
danger is not near so great. Still a score or more recruits may be had
in this neighborhood, I doubt not."
"May I ask, Captain Morgan, whither we are to march after our quota has
been recruited?" I questioned.
"Straight to Boston, where we will have a chance to drill."
"And to fight also, I hope."
"Amen, lad, say I to that! and may there be other of your brave spirit.
I like not this dallying, this parleying with the stubborn king, who but
deludes us with promises while he gains time to equip and to land his
troops upon our shores. And I am beginning to think that this talk of
our Congress that we take up arms as loyal subjects of England, to force
from the crown redress of our grievances, goes not far enough. Only a
democracy where all are free and equal, and where the stakes are worth
the risks and privations to be endured, is suited to the genius of this
vast and virgin continent. Under no other form of government may she be
rightly developed."
"Nor are you alone, sir, in that opinion," replied my father. "None
other is held in this valley, as the memorial sent up to the assembly by
the county committee of Augusta in February last can testify. Were the
Scotch Irish settlers of this country consulted, Captain Morgan, our
declaration of independence would be speedily proclaimed; Patrick
Henry's burning words but voice the sentiment of his race."
"The timid and the half-hearted may not yet be safely set in opposition,
perhaps," answered Captain Morgan, "and Congress is beset with many
difficulties. But 'tis for the independence of the American States I
have drawn my sword"--and as he spoke he sprang suddenly to his feet,
straightened his imposing figure and keyed his voice to a clarion
pitch--"nor will I sheathe it again, save death or bodily infirmities
intervene, till the glorious cause of America's liberty has been
won--till we are a free, self-governing people!"
"I take that oath with you, sir," said I, springing also to my feet.
Then my father, looking up at us from his arm chair, unwiped tears upon
his cheeks, said, in deep, reverent tone: "God grant us victory, and
make this goodly land the home of freedom--a refuge for the oppressed of
all nations!"
* * * * *
We found no trouble in enlisting men enough in our valley to complete
the company Captain Morgan was to command, and in three weeks I was
ready to march the Augusta boys to Frederick County, where we were to
join our captain and the rest of the men. The twenty-two boys from our
end of the valley bivouacked all night in our yard, that we might get an
early start the next morning; and that evening the neighbors came from
far and near to give us farewell, and a blessing. Uncle Thomas and his
family came with the rest, Aunt Martha helping to cook the hot supper
which my mother insisted on serving the lads under the trees, that their
home-filled haversacks might be saved for the march.
Thomas wandered about among the men, lying in groups upon the grass in
the shade of the oaks and elms, with a look of distress upon his face
that surprised me. At last he called me to one side, and said with
trembling lips,
"Don, I'd give the next ten years of my life to go with you."
"You are too young, Thomas. Why, you are not nineteen yet."
"There are four boys in the squad no older than I, and I am strong, and
a fair shot."
"Then enlist; it's not too late yet, and the more the merrier."
"But my mother made me give her a solemn promise that I would not. She
wishes me to be a minister, and once I thought I was called, but now I
believe I was mistaken. I couldn't be so wild to go to the war if I had
received a call from heaven to the ministry; but mother says it will
kill her if I turn soldier, after she has solemnly consecrated me to the
Lord. Oh, Donald, what must I do?"
"I cannot advise you to disobey your mother, Thomas," I answered, "but I
am sorry for you."
"Ellen says my life is my own, to live as I please, and that not even my
mother has a right to dictate to me whether I shall be preacher or
soldier," sighed Thomas.
Now I half agreed with Ellen, but the doctrine seemed an irreverent one
to a youth of Scotch Irish raising, so I only repeated, "I think you had
best obey your mother, Tom," which afforded him small consolation. He
answered me with a suppressed groan, and presently went back to the
soldiers.
Hot and tired from the day's labors, I decided, after supper, to cool
myself by a last drink of my mother's delicious buttermilk. The footpath
to the spring wound its careless way down a grassy slope starred with
dandelions, and dusted with milky ways of daisies and pale bluets.
Apple, pear, and peach trees grew in the angles of the worm fence which
separated the garden from the meadow, and they were so full of bloom
that they looked like masses of pink and white clouds drifted down to
earth. There was a crab apple tree among them, and its elusive fragrance
came and went upon the zephyrs which swayed the dandelions and rustled
the blossoms upon the trees. The world about my feet was as fair and
full of mystic charm as the moon-glorified, star-spangled heaven. The
talk, the work, the plans which had filled the last weeks of my life,
seemed out of tune with God's purposes, as revealed in nature--out of
keeping with His beneficent plans for all His handiwork.
Pondering this strange anomaly, of the tendency of God's creatures to
make war continually upon each other, in the midst of a world so fair,
so beneficent, and so peaceful--the solemn mystery of death always
treading close upon the heels of life--of the desolation always
threatening beauty, I passed the springhouse before I knew it, and found
myself at the foot of the hill, where the spring breaks forth to fall
into a natural basin overhung by a broad, jutting rock. As I raised my
eyes to this rock, a vision greeted me which startled me into an
instant's consciousness of superstitious terror. Did I see a ghost at
last--after all my jeering unbelief? Was that slim shape, wrapped in a
white robe standing so motionless on the white rock, the spirit of some
Indian maiden, seeking again the haunts where in life she had met her
lover?
Of course not; it was only Ellen, for now I saw a hand lifted, to push
back the wind blowsed curls from her forehead. Softly I climbed the hill
behind her, and stood at her side, but so rapt was she in her own
thoughts, she did not hear me till I spoke.
"What are you looking at, Ellen?" I asked.
Had I not thrown my arm quickly about her, she would have sprung from
the rock in her startled surprise, yet she did not scream, but regained
her poise in an instant, disengaged herself from my arm, and answered me
calmly--
"At the moon, Cousin Donald."
"'Tis only a round, bright ball, Ellen; why gaze at it so long and
fixedly?"
"'Tis more than a silver ball when one looks at it so. It grows bigger
and deeper, and within there are mountains and caverns, and seas and
plains; mayhap there are people there who suffer and think as we do.
Would you not like to have great wings, Cousin Donald, and fly and fly
through the soft blue air, till you reached the moon?"
"Such fancies have never come into my mind, Ellen. You must have clear
eyes, and a vivid imagination," and I smiled down upon her, not a little
amused by her fanciful conceits.
"If I did not I should die;" then, turning hotly upon me, "How would you
like to walk back and forth, back and forth along a bare floor, with
bare garret walls about you, whirring a great, ugly wheel, and twisting
coarse, ill-smelling wool all day long, day after day? One dare not
_think_, for then one gets careless and breaks or knots the thread, and
yet to keep one's mind upon so dreary, and so monotonous a task is
maddening. Do you wonder I run away, and talk with the flower-fairies,
or the stars, whenever I get the chance?"
"No, Ellen, I don't. I have often thought that women's tasks must be
very wearisome, the endless spinning, weaving, and knitting. I wonder
they have patience for such work."
"I wish I might go to the war with you, Cousin Donald."
"You could never stand the hardships."
"But I think I could. I'd love to sleep out of doors, under the winking
stars, and the friendly moon; I'd love to walk through trackless
forests, across wide, unknown plains, and to come now and then upon some
town or settlement where every one would feast and praise the patriots."
"But what of the cold, hunger and fatigue? of wounds and capture and the
sights and sounds after a battle? It tries even the souls of brave,
strong men to bear such things."
"The soul of a woman might endure as much, and I think I should mind
even those things less than eternal spinning, Cousin Donald."
I laughed now. "You are not yet a woman, Ellen, and you are not doomed,
I trust, to eternal spinning. When I come back from the war we'll go
hunting every day, even though we will have to run off from Aunt
Martha."
"I shall not have a friend left except grandma."
"And Thomas."
"Thomas likes me, yes, but he is too much afraid of his mother to help
me have my way. When you come back you may not find me here."
"Of course I shall; and remember, Ellen, we are always to be good
friends and comrades," and I held out my hand to her.
"Good friends and comrades," repeated Ellen; "I shall remind you one day
when you come home famous, and dignified--if I am able to endure life
with Aunt Martha so long as that," and she put her hand in mine in the
old way of confident comradeship which had gone out of our intercourse
for months. Hand in hand we went back to the house, talking intimately,
she of her thoughts and feelings, I of my plans and hopes.
* * * * *
Before sun-up the next morning we were on the march. I had left Jean
weeping bitterly on grandmother's shoulder, and I doubt not the dear old
lady wept, too, when I was out of sight. My mother stood in the doorway,
shading her brave, loving eyes with her hand, that I might not see fall
the tears glittering on their lashes. Father walked beside me at the
head of my little troop for a mile, and, before he left me, took me in
his arms in sight of them all, straining me for an instant to his
breast, and pouring out a patriarch's blessing upon my bowed head.
Our valley looked very fair that day, as we marched northward across it.
The rank wheat rolled in billows of rich green, the springing corn
showed narrow gray green blades, which moved gently to and fro above the
loamy uplands, and the forests, which enclosed the cleared lands on all
sides, were fresh robed in verdure of many hues. Edging the forest like
a jeweled braid grew masses of red-bud, dogwood and hawthorn in full
blossom, and singing along its sparkling way, the river wound in and out
of velvety meadows with deep curves and bold sweeps of bountiful intent,
embracing as much as possible of this fair land that it might scatter
widely its fertilizing influences.
"Boys," I said, pausing on an eminence from which we could see all our
end of the valley, and pointing outward, as I stopped to take a long,
last look, "is it not a land worth fighting for?"
"Aye, aye, sergeant!" came in hearty chorus.
"Then fight for it we will, like brave men and true, nor look backward
again till freedom be won."
"Aye, that we will!" again in deep, full accord, and when all had taken
a lingering look, I gave the command--
"Right about face! Forward!"
Without a backward glance, we tramped onward, our faces forever toward
the enemies of freedom.