THE CHOICE OF FAIRFAX
"Ours are no hirelings trained to the fight,
With cymbal and clarion, all glittering and bright;
No prancing of chargers, no martial display;
No war-trump is heard from our silent array.
O'er the proud heads of our freemen our star-banner waves;
Men, firm as their mountains, and still as their graves."
--_T. Graves._
Although each member of the little party had borne himself well in the
face of peril, now each one found himself in the utter exhaustion that
follows unusual stress of mind or body. It was no longer possible to
lighten the tediousness of travel by conversation, and for this reason
the remainder of the journey seemed long and exceedingly wearisome.
Had conditions been other than they were both Peggy and Sally would
have noticed the broad morasses which bisected the wide plains they
were now traversing. They would have exclaimed at the acres of reeds
which covered the vast extent of these marshes, and at the wild fowl
which rose in clouds from them; for already the ducks were flying.
They would have discussed how these swamps became dangerous quagmires
at a later season, and how the sandy soil, now so firm and solid under
its blanket of snow, would become soft and yielding so that horses
could scarce travel through it.
All these things failed to rouse them from the weariness that held
them. The over-hanging branches of the leafless trees arched over the
highway, and obscured the light of the westering sun. Further on,
the road left the forest and ran by open fields and hedgerows of
cultivated lands. It was not until they had passed through a low lying
plain, and crossed the broad marsh which separated it from the wooded
heights of Freehold that it occurred to any of them that they were
passing over the battle-ground of Monmouth. Then, as the high peaked
roof of the court-house came into view, Nurse Johnson roused herself.
"Is it not somewhere hereabouts that the Battle of Monmouth was
fought?" she asked. "Methinks I remember 'twas at the seat of
Monmouth County that His Excellency's forces overtook the English."
"Yes." Fairfax looked about him. "The hottest part of the battle
occurred at yon parsonage; although I've heard that there was hard
fighting over the entire plain."
"Oh, don't talk of battles," broke in Sally glancing about fearfully.
"Every bush and tree seems but made to hide an enemy."
"Give me pardon, my dear," spoke Nurse Johnson contritely. "'Tis small
wonder that you wish not to hear of battles after the experience of
the day. I make no doubt but that all of us will be glad when we are
within the sheltering walls of a house. Are we almost there, son?"
"Yes, mother. 'Tis just beyond the village a short distance, though I
know not in which direction the farm lies. I will have to inquire at
the tavern."
The amber light of dusk was tipping the trees when the youth turned
from the highway into the wooded road leading to his uncle's dwelling.
The farmhouse was gray and weather-beaten, set in a circle of cleared
land, and ringed by the forest. There was something about the
well-sweep, the orchard, the gardens, that spoke of neglect and
desolation, and Peggy felt a chill go through her as she noted no stir
of life about the place. From the open doors of the barn came no
movement of restless horse, or low of cattle. Not a twitter nor cheep
from the hen-house broke the quiet that brooded over everything.
Though it was still early twilight the wooden shutters were tightly
closed, and had it not been for the light which streamed through their
crescentic openings the house would have been deemed deserted. The
girl started nervously as a night-owl hooted suddenly from a near-by
thicket.
"I wonder if they are at home?" she mused aloud.
"Why, of course they are, Peggy," answered Sally. "Does thee not see
the light?"
"Yes; but----" began Peggy, and paused expectantly as Fairfax, who had
alighted, knocked loudly upon the door.
It was a full moment before a reply came; then a man's voice demanded
sharply:
"What's wanted?"
"'Tis your nephew, Uncle Tom," answered the lad cheerily.
"Nephew, heigh? I haven't any in this part of the country. You can't
put in a take-off like that on Tom Ashley. Clear out! My firelock's
ready."
"Well, this is a fine welcome, I must say," cried Nurse Johnson
indignantly. "Write for us to come all the way from Virginia to visit
you, and then find a firelock ready for us. I don't think much of such
doings, Tom Ashley!"
"Why a pox on me!" came in excited accents from behind the closed
door. "Didst hear that, Mary? That's Hannah Johnson's voice as sure as
preaching. It must be Hannah and her boy."
There followed the rattle of a chain, the drawing of bolts, then the
door was flung wide, and the light from a blazing fire in the
fireplace threw into strong relief the forms of a man and a woman
standing on the threshold.
"Have in, have in," cried the man genially. "Mary, see to the opening
of the stable while I bring the folks in. Ye are as welcome as the
spring would be, though ye did give us a great scare. 'Twas a most
unmannerly greeting, but 'twas not meant for ye. The times are such
that no man dares to open his door to a visitor when dark is coming on
without he knows who 'tis. This is a surprise. I had writ ye not to
come."
"You had, uncle?" queried Fairfax as they shook hands. Thomas Ashley
had left the door by this time, and now stood beside the sleigh.
"When? We did not get it."
"'Tis not to be wondered at considering the state of the country. I
sent it the last of January. Still, so long as ye didn't get it I'm
glad ye are here. So you brought your sweetheart along, heigh? Which
one is she?"
A ripple of laughter rose to Peggy's lips at the remark. Her spirits
had revived as soon as she understood that their reception was due to
caution rather than to the lack of welcome, and she spoke roguishly as
the farmer assisted her out of the sleigh:
"We did not bring her, friend. Thy nephew hath had to content himself
with Sally and me because Betty could not come."
"I'll warrant the boy hath not found the consolation irksome,"
laughed Mr. Ashley. A twinkle came into his eye as he noted the
youth's blushes and the mischievous glances of the girls. "Well,
well," he said, "ye are welcome anyway. Now, Hannah, go right in with
these girls while nevvy helps me with the horses."
"You surely don't keep that barn door open when there are horses
inside, do you, Tom?" Nurse Johnson's disapproval of the lax fastening
of the barn was plainly evident in her tones.
"It won't make any difference, Hannah, whether 'tis fastened or not.
If there's horses there somebody gets them anyway. We leave the door
open to save them the trouble of breaking the bolt."
"Then why do we put the horses there?" queried Fairfax in blank
consternation.
"We don't, nevvy." The farmer chuckled. "If we did we wouldn't have
them long. Wait a minute. There! There's Mary now."
The dwelling was a story and a half house, with a lean-to attached to
one end. Just as Farmer Ashley finished speaking the whole front of
the lean-to swung open in a great door, disclosing an aperture large
enough to admit both horses and sleigh. Mrs. Ashley emerged from the
dark interior as the door swung back, and came toward them.
"Well, that is a contrivance," ejaculated Nurse Johnson after she had
greeted her sister. "Who would think of finding a stable right in the
house?"
"'Tis the only way we can keep a horse," explained the farmer's wife.
"'Tis right next the kitchen, so we know the minute anything is wrong,
if we have a horse there; which we have not at present. We believe
that no one outside the family knows of its use for such purpose, and
'tis something to have a hiding-place for animals. But come in! Here
we stand talking, and you must be both cold and hungry. Come, Hannah!
And ye also, my dears. I am glad that the supper is belated to-night,
for now 'twill be hot, which is well after a long journey."
Thus talking she led them into the house, carefully bolting the door
after them. A door on one side the chimney gave entrance to the
lean-to. Another, on the other side of the room, opened into another
apartment, but the kitchen itself seemed to be the main living-room.
It was large and roomy, and a table drawn up before the hearth was
spread for the evening meal. A great fire of pine boughs blazed in
the deep-throated fireplace filling the room with fragrance and
cheerfulness. The maidens ran to it with exclamations of pleasure.
"Oh!" cried Sally with a deep breath. "How pleasant and homey it is. I
feel as though this afternoon were a dreadful dream, and that naught
could befall us here. Dost see, Peggy? There is a quilt on the frame.
'Twill be a fine chance to teach Captain Johnson the stitches. 'Twill
give him relaxation from military duty."
"He will have small time for relaxation, I fear me," spoke the farmer
entering at this moment with Fairfax from the lean-to. "There is to be
great activity in the army this summer, I hear. 'Tis to be hoped that
something will be done to help us. The Jerseys have suffered greatly
in the war, and Monmouth County more than the rest of the state put
together."
"We had a taste of what you are going through this afternoon,"
Fairfax informed them quietly. "We were set upon by robbers, and had
it not been for the opportune coming of some state dragoons you would
not have had to give us welcome."
"Robbers!" exclaimed the farmer and his wife simultaneously. "Why did
you not tell us sooner? Was any one hurt?"
"No," answered the youth. "Of course we were upset, which is small
cause for wonderment."
"Tell us about it, nevvy," began Thomas Ashley eagerly, but his wife
interposed:
"Now, father, if no one hath received a hurt let's eat before the
supper gets cold. A good story will keep better than hot victuals. We
shall have the night to talk in. 'Tis a long journey from Virginia,
and belike they are hungry. But first, Hannah, tell us who these young
friends are."
"Mercy on me, Mary," gasped Nurse Johnson, drawing the girls forward.
"I clear forgot my manners. This is Mistress Margaret Owen, who went
back with me to Williamsburgh when I was here last year. I have writ
you anent her visit, as I make no doubt you remember. And this is
her friend, Mistress Sarah Evans. She hath been ailing of late, and
methought the change would be of benefit. We call them Peggy and
Sally."
"You are both welcome," said the hostess warmly, "though I would the
times were not so troublous. What with the pine robbers, the
freebooters and the Tories we are in daily dread of attack."
"A plague take the rascals," cried Mr. Ashley excitedly. "No man's
life, liberty, or property is safe these days. We are set upon in the
fields, and upon the highways. Our dwellings are sacked and burned,
and we are thankful if life is left. I tell ye," he cried bringing
down his fist upon the table with so much vim that the dishes rattled,
"I tell ye New Jersey hath stood the brunt of the war. She hath been,
and is now, the battle-field of the new nation. Things have come to
such a pass that some way, somehow, relief must be had from these
internal enemies."
"But hath nothing been done to rid the state of them?" asked the
youth.
"Done? Everything hath been done, nevvy. We have not only furnished
our quota of men to the main army, but also formed companies of
militia, both cavalry and infantry, to fight these pests. The
Legislature is endeavoring to establish a strict patrol of the coast
and the highways. In addition, we men who are too old for constant
service have formed an association to retaliate upon our greatest
enemies, the Tories, and to go out as necessity demands. Why, think of
it! Up there in New York City are many of our friends and neighbors
formed into a corps called The Associated Loyalists, under the
leadership of our former governor, William Franklin. An unworthy son
of a great father! At his command this corps harasses the state at
will. Knowing the country 'tis easy for it to slip in where the
greatest harm can be done, and out it goes before we know 'tis here.
Staten Island and Sandy Hook are handy refuges for such raiders. We
might handle the robbers, could we be rid of these incursions. We
hoped for peace after Yorktown, but the depredations are now worse
than ever. Something must be done, for New Jersey's very existence is
threatened."
"There seems to be a need of men," remarked the young man musingly.
"When am I to report for duty, Uncle Tom?"
Mr. Ashley turned toward him quickly.
"There is need of men," he said. "Your commission was to be with the
regular army, if you wanted it so. Colonel Elias Dayton, who now
commands the Jersey Brigade at Chatham, wants every man to report
for duty this month. But----"
"But what, Uncle Tom?" asked Fairfax as the farmer paused abruptly.
"But I wish ye'd stay in Monmouth, nevvy. We need every man we can get
to help us defend our homes. We have sent and sent to the main army
until we are almost stripped of fighting men. General Washington may
have to go against the English this summer, and then again he may have
to lie inactive. It all depends upon the instructions which England
will give to the new general who is to supersede Clinton. Of course,
with a campaign there would be more chance for glory with the regular
line. Such distinction as that must appeal to a lad of parts; but,
boy, New Jersey needs you. Why, Washington depends on us for flour,
and how can we raise the grain when we are shot down as we plow the
fields? A man can do service, and great service, right here in the
militia. There won't be much glory, nevvy, but there will be plenty of
action. In Freehold there is a company now of twenty-five twelvemonth
boys that needs a captain. The Legislature will gladly give you the
commission. Now, nevvy, the choice is with you. What will you do?"
The youth let his head fall upon his breast in thought. The supper
had long since been finished, and the other members of the group sat
interested listeners to the conversation between uncle and nephew.
Peggy looked at the young fellow wonderingly. A captain's commission
in the regular army was to be desired. She remembered how John Drayton
had had to serve for years to obtain one. Such an office gave a rank
that no militia could offer. Could any youth deliberately cast aside
the distinction? A glance at Fairfax gave no clue to his mental
attitude. It seemed a long time that he sat there meditating, but
presently he looked up and met the questioning gaze of Thomas Ashley
with a smile.
"The greatest need seems to be right here," he said. "I think I'd like
to help clear out the Tories, and to get a whack at those pine
robbers. I have a reckoning to settle with them on my own account.
This field will suit me all right."
"Good for you, nevvy," cried his uncle in a shout. "I thought you'd do
it. You are a lad after my own heart. Still, it is only fair that you
should know that your task will be fraught with danger. The Tories
single out for vengeance any man who fights with unction against them.
Let him proceed with too much ardor and he becomes a marked man."
"That is true in any part of the country, uncle, as well as in New
Jersey," was the lad's rejoinder. "I am ready for whatever goes with
the work."
But at this there came a cry from his mother:
"Tom Ashley, what are you getting my boy into?"
"Nothing that my own boys have not endured, Hannah. One fell in the
great battle on yonder plain near the court-house, and lies now in
Freehold burying-ground. The other, Charley, made the same choice as
your boy, and is down at Tom's River helping to defend old Monmouth."
"But oh----" she began when Fairfax interrupted her:
"It's all right, mother. It means no more danger than I'd have to
encounter with the regular army, or than I have already faced in the
militia at home."
"It may be," she answered, but her eyes were troubled. "It may be."
"It waxes late," exclaimed Mrs. Ashley glancing at Sally whose eyelids
were drooping in spite of herself. "These girls, at least, are ready
for bed; and to bed they must go."
And without heeding their protests the good woman hurried them up to a
little room under the eaves, nor would she depart until they were
tucked warmly in the great feather-bed. Sally's drowsiness left her as
soon as she found herself alone with Peggy.
"Peggy," she whispered, snuggling close to her friend, "what does thee
think of it all?"
"'Tis like the Carolinas and Virginia were," returned Peggy soberly.
"Oh, Sally! is it not awful that men should so hunt and hound each
other? The poor people of the states have stood so much that 'tis
marvelous that any are left for resistance. Nurse Johnson whispered to
me that she should not feel easy until we were back in Philadelphia."
"Would that we were," said Sally earnestly. "Peggy!"
"Yes, Sally."
"I was afraid this afternoon when the robbers attacked us. What if I
were to be fearful all the time?"
"We must not be, Sally," spoke Peggy quickly. "'Twould wherrit these
kind friends if we were to show fear. They will take excellent care of
us, and take us home soon, I make no doubt."
"Isn't thee ever afraid, Peggy?"
"Why, yes; of course," answered Peggy. "Every one is, I think. But
mother told me once never to anticipate trouble, and so I try not to
think about what might happen. We must be bright and cheerful whatever
occurs. It should be easy for thee, Sally. Thee is always happy in the
hospital."
"That is because I have something to do," responded Sally sagely. "If
one is so busy that one has no time to think one can't be afraid."
"I make no doubt then thee will soon have plenty to occupy thee when
Fairfax joins his company, Sally."
Sally laughed as Peggy had intended she should.
"I like Fairfax," she said with emphasis. "But didst notice, Peggy? He
spoke not once to either of us after we entered the house. Truly, his
diffidence doth envelop him like a mantle; yet, when those robbers
were giving us chase, he had no difficulty in telling us just what to
do. Indeed, he was then as much at ease in speaking to us as thy
father or Robert would have been."
"Then he was doing 'man's duty,'" laughed Peggy. "'Tis marvelous how
an emergency doth make him shed his shyness."
"I like him," repeated Sally. "In very truth, Peggy Owen, doth thee
not consider him the very nicest lad that we know?"
"And yet," observed Peggy meditatively, addressing the darkness,
"methinks there was a girl, not a hundred miles from this very bed,
who told me that she agreed with my Cousin Harriet that Clifford
excelled all other youths."
"I am going to sleep," announced Sally, turning over hastily. "Does
thee not think it time? We had a wearisome journey."
Peggy giggled appreciatively.
"That was a well directed shot," she remarked, "since it hath reduced
the ranks to silence."