MARCHING ORDERS
"Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!
And over the mountains breaks the day;
Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,
There are deeds to be done ere we slumber to-night!
And whether we fight or whether we fall
By saber-stroke or rifle ball,
The hearts of the free will remember us yet,
And our Country, our Country will never forget."
--_Rossiter Worthington Raymond._
It was not until morning that the farmer and his nephew succeeded in
getting control of the fire. When at length it was extinguished only a
few charred timbers remained of the lean-to, and the dwelling itself
was badly damaged. A heap of ashes marked the spot where the barn had
stood, and the scene was one of desolation. The day had come, but
there was no glory in the sunshine. The dank smell of early morning
rose from the dew-drenched earth, but its freshness and fragrance were
marred by the overpowering odor of smoke, and wet, charred wood. In
the countless trees of the forest the birds were singing, but their
songs fell upon unheeding ears. To the inmates of the farmhouse
instead of melody the pines whispered a message of menace and despair.
"And now," spoke Fairfax Johnson, as Thomas Ashley declared that there
was no further danger of fire, "now I am going to see what hath become
of my mother."
"And I'll go with you, nevvy. You must not think me hard and
unfeeling, boy, but just now, when men are so scarce, we cannot afford
to lose one unnecessarily. To have gone out to those men would have
been certain death for you, and your mother did the best thing that
could have been done. To be a patriot demands a great deal of us. To
die is a small matter, but how we die is much. Your work is not
finished. Until it is, nevvy, your life is not yours to lose
needlessly. It belongs to the country. Even though Hannah be captured,
it would not follow that aught of harm would come to her. She is a
woman. But come!"
"Peggy," whispered Sally, "Friend Ashley reminds me of Brutus."
"Yes," answered Peggy gazing after Fairfax with misty eyes. "Duty to
country is first, of course; but sometimes when the heart is torn with
anguish over the sacrifice of a loved one it doth seem that duty asks
too much of us. Oh, Sally! Sally! will peace ever come? Will the
country ever be aught but torn and disrupted by warfare? I cannot bear
it."
"Don't, Peggy," came from Sally sharply.
Mrs. Ashley, who was moving about the fire preparing breakfast, came
to them quickly. She gave each girl a gentle kiss, and a soft pat,
saying:
"Now, now, 'twill not do. After being such brave, helpful girls all
night, are ye going to give way now? 'Twill never do, sweetings. For
the boy's sake, ye must be brave. See! I have nice, hot coffee all
ready. Run after them, and tell them that I want them to take a cup
before going far."
"And we were going to be so brave," reminded Sally wiping her eyes.
"'Tis all my fault," said Peggy, "but 'twas the thought of----"
"Now be quick, or they will be gone too far," interrupted Mistress
Ashley.
The two men were entering the confines of the forest when Peggy called
to them:
"Mistress Ashley wishes that ye would take a cup of coffee before
going, friends. She hath it already prepared."
Fairfax shook his head.
"Mother first," he said. "I could not take anything."
The tears came again to Peggy's eyes.
"Yes, yes," she said chokingly. "Make sure of Friend Nurse's
whereabouts first. How brave she was! How----"
"Did I hear something said anent coffee, Peggy?" came Nurse Johnson's
voice, and from among the trees she came toward them. She was smiling,
but her appearance was anything but cheerful. Her face was very pale,
her hair was unbound and hung upon her shoulders in a tangled mass;
her garments were dew drenched, and she limped painfully. With a bound
her son reached her side.
"Mother! mother!" was all he could say.
"I thought ye'd get through, Hannah," cried Thomas Ashley. "I was just
telling the boy so. Mary, Mary! Hannah's come."
With cries and exclamations of wonder and joy they gathered about her,
heaping caresses upon her until the good woman begged for mercy,
declaring that she was hungry, and would have no breath left wherewith
to partake of food. Then they bore her into the house, and while Sally
and Peggy dressed the sprained ankle, Mrs. Ashley brought coffee, and
Mr. Ashley cut great slices of ham, insisting that the occasion
warranted a feast. But the son remained by her side as though he
feared to leave her. They grew calm finally, and then Nurse Johnson
told of her escape.
"'Tis naught to make such a pother about," she said settling back
comfortably in her chair, a cup of coffee in hand. "I knew that Tom
wouldn't be able to hold Fairfax much longer, and I wasn't going to
have those rascals get him if I could help it. Providence was on my
side, for I seemed to have wings given me. I didn't know that I could
run so fast, but fear, aided by a few bullets, would develop speed in
the most of us, I reckon.
"I had a little start of the Tories, though I knew that I could not
keep it, when my foot caught in a vine, or root, and I fell. I tried
to get up, but my ankle was sprained so I could not rise. Instead, in
my efforts, I began to roll down the declivity, for the ground was
slightly rolling where I had fallen, and over and over I went until
presently the bottom was reached, and I came to a stop in a little
hollow. Something stirred as I rolled into the thicket, and an animal,
'twas too dark to see what it was, though it seemed like a doe, or a
fawn, leaped up and bounded away through the forest. I heard the men
go crashing after it, and it came to me that if I did not move they
might pass on, thinking that the deer was their prey. That is all
there is to it. So you see I did naught after all. Save for the mishap
of a sprained ankle, and a little chill, I am no worse off than ye
are."
"Oh! but the risk, Friend Nurse," cried Peggy.
"Was no greater than to stay here. We did not know of a certainty that
the men would leave the house in pursuit. It was just a chance, but it
happened to work all right. Now, Tom, what shall be done? Do you think
the raiders will return?"
"'Tis hard telling, Hannah. Sooner or later they will try to get the
boy again. If Edwards is hanged they will stop at nothing to effect
his capture. But, Hannah, every man in the company runs the same risk.
The thing to do is to have the men make headquarters here. 'Twill be
of mutual benefit, for 'twill throw a safeguard about each member of
the company."
"Yes," she agreed thoughtfully.
"And the girls?" uttered Fairfax. "What of them?"
"Until we have horses we can do naught, nevvy."
"Then horses we are going to have," he said with determination. "I
shall start for Freehold now to see what can be done. There may be
other news of the raiders, too."
"Go with him, Tom," cried his mother quickly. "There may be skulkers
in the woods."
But Fairfax would not hear of this.
"Nay, mother," he said. "Uncle Tom's place is here. You are in more
danger than I am, for the raiders may come back. You had your way last
night; this morning 'tis my turn."
With this he was gone. Some hours later when he returned, astride a
bay mare of great beauty, he headed quite a cavalcade. Behind him rode
the little company of twelvemonth men and militia of which he was
captain; back of these came two large wagons.
"What think you?" he cried waving a folded document excitedly in
greeting. "The Council of Safety hath confirmed my commission as
captain, and hath ordered me to take the company to Tom's River to
garrison the fort there. The salt works are threatened, and there is
some contraband trade to be checked. We came to take you with us."
"To do what, nevvy?" gasped the farmer, bewildered by the suddenness
of the matter.
"To take all of you with us," repeated the youth, dismounting. "Think
you that I could go, and leave you here unprotected? You will be safe
there. At least," he corrected himself, "as safe as 'tis possible to
be in Monmouth County. The garrison will afford more security than you
would have here. I brought these wagons for the very purpose of taking
you. There must be haste, Uncle Tom. We must be off in an hour."
"But----" began Thomas Ashley protestingly, when his wife interrupted
him.
"Why, father! that's where Charley is. 'Tis the very thing."
So the youth had his way, and there ensued a busy hour. The wagons
were shore wagons, owned by oystermen of Tom's River who were
returning to that village after bringing fish and oysters to the
interior, he told them in explanation of the odor that clung to the
vehicles. It was great good fortune that they could be had just at
this time. Presently, here they were, with Nurse Johnson, comfortably
installed upon a feather-bed, Mrs. Ashley and the two girls in one
wagon, while the farmer rode in the other to look after such household
effects as they were taking.
Both because of Nurse Johnson and the sandy nature of the soil they
were obliged to proceed in a leisurely manner, but the family,
rejoicing in the sense of security afforded by the presence of an
armed escort, minded neither the manner nor the mode of travel. With
the buoyancy of youth, Peggy and Sally soon regained their accustomed
spirits, and chatted gaily.
Above was the blue and white woof of the spring sky. The plaint of the
meadow-lark and the note of the robin sounded sweetly against the
stillness of the air. A trio of crows sailed athwart the blue, their
great wings beating the air to slow, solemn measure. The pine woodland
added shelter and picturesqueness to the road, and to the light breeze
its sweet resinous odor. And Fairfax was here, there, everywhere,
looking after things with all the zeal of a young officer.
"You are merry," he said after a time, accommodating the speed of his
horse to that of the wagon in which the girls rode. His manner had
brightened perceptibly since the beginning of the journey, and he
spoke lightly. "Yet I feared that you might be annoyed by the smell of
fish. They are oyster wagons, you know."
"Is it fish that we smell?" cried Sally, laughing for very joyousness,
and forgetting to wonder at the unusualness of his addressing them.
"Methought it was the pines."
"Nay; 'tis fish," he declared. "At what are you looking, Mistress
Peggy?"
"I am admiring thy horse," she replied. "'Tis a beauty. Almost as
pretty as my own little mare."
"Nay," he protested. "Few animals are that. Star hath not many
equals."
Peggy flushed with pleasure. Praise of her little mare always
delighted her.
"Thee can afford to be unstinted in thy praise when thine own mount
hath so much of beauty," she remarked.
"And what has thee named her?" questioned Sally. "It should be
something charming."
"A name hath just occurred to me that is both charming and uncommon,"
he responded, meeting her glance without blushing. It was the first
time that she had seen him so much at ease in ordinary intercourse,
Peggy reflected marveling. "I think," continued the youth, "that no
other horse ever bore it."
"Then it must be unusual," declared Sally. "Thee makes me very
curious, Friend Fairfax. What is it?"
"Marsal," he answered. A twinkle came into his eyes as he added:
"After Margaret and Sally: Marsal!" Saluting, he passed on to the head
of the column.
There was a gasp of surprise from the maidens, then a peal of laughter
followed, so mirthful that Nurse Johnson and her sister joined it.
"He hath the best of us, Peggy," cried Sally. "But who would have
dreamed that he had it in him?"
"Of a truth he hath improved markedly," agreed Peggy. "I fear me that
we shall have to change our tactics, Sally."
"'Tis not that he hath lost his diffidence, girls, but the reaction
from fear of danger to us hath rendered him light-hearted," declared
the lad's mother. "He is so relieved that 'tis easy to jest."
And this was the case with them all. So merrily the journey proceeded.
The incubus of fear was lifted from them for the time, and a certain
joyousness of expression was the natural result. It was twenty-five
miles from Monmouth Court House to Tom's River, and so slowly did they
travel that it was not until the next evening that they emerged from
the forest into a long stretch of cleared road at the end of which lay
the thriving little town.
About a hundred yards to the east of the road, on a slight eminence
in the center of cleared ground, stood the blockhouse. It was a rude
structure, unfinished, about six or seven feet high, built of logs
with loopholes between them, and a number of brass swivels on the top,
which was entirely open. Indeed there was no way of entering save by
climbing. A short distance beyond the fort a bridge spanned the river,
for the village was situated on both banks of the stream. Four miles
away the tides of Barnegat Bay swelled and ebbed through Cranberry
Inlet into the ocean. It was the nearness of this inlet that gave the
little place its importance. It was at this time perhaps the best
inlet on the coast except Little Egg Harbor, and was a favorite base
of operations for American privateers on the outlook for British
vessels carrying supplies to New York.
In the near vicinity of the village a gristmill, a sawmill, and salt
works gave evidence of the occupations of the inhabitants; while on
the river, which at this point broadened into a bay, floated the
barges and boats of the fishermen, and the rafts and scows from the
sawmills. The town proper consisted of about a dozen houses beside an
inn, around which the dark forest seemed to crowd and press. The place
had been subjected to attack several times by the British, owing
chiefly to the desirability of the inlet, and the possession of the
salt works. An unusual characteristic of the town was the fact that
not a Tory, nor Tory sympathizer was allowed to dwell in it; which was
an exceedingly uncommon feature of any place in Monmouth County.
As the company drew near the blockhouse there came a sharp command
from within, and over its walls scrambled a few men who drew up at
attention, while drum and fife sounded a welcome to the new captain. A
dazzling light of pleased surprise came into the young man's eyes, and
he squared his shoulders with an involuntary movement. From the
village came the people to give welcome also; for the intrepidity with
which the young man fulfilled his duties, his recent exploit in
capturing the noted Edwards had given him a reputation, and the town
rejoiced that he had been sent to take command of the post.
With blushing modesty the lad made a stammering response to the
welcome, while Thomas Ashley beamed with gratification, and his
mother could scarce conceal her pride. The ceremony was ended
presently, and the company took formal possession of the blockhouse.
The family passed on into the village.
"'Tis so interesting to be with the military," sighed Sally
ecstatically as she and Peggy were preparing for bed. They had found
quarters with the family of Justice Green, old friends of Mrs. Ashley.
"Just think, Peggy Owen! Thee had a whole winter of it at Middlebrook.
And with the main army at that. I should think thee could never find
contentment in our quiet city again."
"Were we there, Sally, I'd never wish to leave it," spoke Peggy so
earnestly that her friend looked up in surprise.
"What is it?" she asked quickly. "Has thee the migraine, Peggy?"
"No, Sally." Peggy was thoughtful for a moment before she explained:
"These people are so grateful because the company hath come.
Were there not great cause for fear they would not have so much
appreciation. It looks as though they lived in dread of attack."
"And I have been feeling so secure because the blockhouse was here,"
exclaimed Sally. "Hasn't thee?"
"I did for a time, but I am not so sure that I do now," was Peggy's
response.
"Is not Fairfax a fine fellow?" queried Sally after a moment's
silence.
"I wonder if thee knows how often thee says that, Sally?" Peggy
turned, and gazed searchingly into Sally's face.
"I don't say it any oftener than he deserves it, miss," retorted
Sally, brushing her hair composedly. "He is all that valor and modesty
can make him. I heard Friend Pendleton say once that humility was the
sweetest flower that grew in the human breast. Fairfax thinks so
little of himself; yet he is so brave, and modest, and kind; and his
uncle declares that he fights like a tiger."
"Yes?" gasped Peggy, regarding her friend with amazement. "He is all
that. And what then, Sally?"
Sally laughed.
"I was just thinking, Peggy mine, that some time--oh, years and years
from now, after the war is over, thee knows--we girls might want to
make some additions to the Social Select Circle in the form of----
Well, partners for life," she ended, blushing adorably.
"And was thee thinking of annexing Fairfax?" cried Peggy in a paroxysm
of merriment. "Oh, Sally, Sally! that I should live to hear thee say
such things!"
"I? Oh, no! I was thinking of Betty. Thee knows that he would require
some management, he is so bashful, and Betty----"
"I am not so sure, Sally." Peggy was laughing so that she could
scarcely talk, but she continued mirthfully: "Has thee not noticed
that he is always equal to an emergency, and that he is cool and
collected in danger? Sally, Sally! thee'd best give o'er such
match-making plans."
"Well, I do think 'twould be monstrously nice," said Sally. "So
there!"
"For Sally?" teased Peggy.
"Nonsense!" ejaculated Sally, reddening.
Many things contributed to dispel whatever of misgiving Peggy might
have had. The people resumed their daily vocations, and while on every
hand could be heard encomiums upon the ardor with which the young
captain discharged his duties, the presence of the company seemed no
longer to be regarded as a strict essential to safety. So the maiden's
fears were lulled to rest, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of
the seaside life.
The bay daily beheld the arrival and departure of privateers, which
sometimes brought prizes with them. There were boats from the
different mills, and teams always loading at the wharves with lumber,
salt, oysters and fish for the interior. Whenever there were prizes
with the privateers, the town became a busy and lively place from the
influx of visitors who were mostly business men from various parts of
the state come to purchase captured vessels, or their cargoes.
Sometimes Fairfax joined them in their walks along the bay, for this
was the favorite with the girls, and they could not but comment upon
his increased manliness of bearing. He had found his position no
sinecure. There were many farmers along the river who, while
undeniably patriotic, saw no reason why they should not take the hard
money of the British in New York in exchange for supplies, and this
contraband trade had to be kept in check. An unceasing watch was in
consequence kept on the river and coasts to prevent such persons from
running the blockade; the salt works had to be guarded, and a strict
patrol maintained to report any advance of English or refugees.
"Thee is getting thin, Friend Fairfax," commented Peggy one evening as
the two maidens and the youth stood watching the boats on the bay.
"Thee takes thy duties too seriously. Does he not, Sally?"
"Indeed he does," agreed Sally, her blue eyes scanning the young man's
countenance with solicitude. "What hath gone amiss, friend? Something
is troubling thee."
"There is activity on Sandy Hook that denotes action of some sort by
the enemy," he answered gravely. "It hath been impossible so far to
find just what the movement portends, but I fear that an attack of
some kind is intended. Would that ye were at home, though I know not
how to get you there."
"And does thee fear that this is the place to be attacked?" queried
Sally. "Is it the salt works?"
"Yes," he replied. "That is one of the things that would invite
assault. The works have always been a bone of contention between the
two armies, and the British need of the article is pressing just at
this time. Were it not that the highway from Freehold to Trenton is
infested by those miscreants of the pines, I should say go with one of
the shore wagons to Trenton. As it is there is naught for you to do
but to stay here."
"Where there is a garrison for protection," spoke Peggy with more
lightness than she felt.
"It is small," he said with hesitation. "Small, and the fort
unfinished. I fear me that 'twill not withstand attack, even though it
should be defended with stubbornness. But I must not make you uneasy.
There may be no ground for apprehension after all."
So he spoke, and knew not that at that very moment some British and
loyalists from Sandy Hook were landing at Coates' Point, a few miles
to the north of Tom's River. Here their number was augmented by the
addition of a band of refugees under the Tory, Davenport. A vidette
dashed into the village with the news at midnight. Almost instantly
came the order:
"Every man to the blockhouse! The British and refugees are
approaching!"