THE RETREAT
As to what happened during the time General Lafayette was striving to
withdraw from the dangerous position he found himself in after the
advance of the Britishers, I cannot of my own knowledge speak clearly.
To me, and my comrades are of the same mind, the day was apparently
spent in moving here and there blindly, so to speak. It appeared now
and then, from what little I could see in advance of us, that we were
on the very verge of being captured, and again did it appear as if we
had gotten off scot free, while mayhap half an hour later the danger
was seemingly greater than before.
If I attempted to set down the details of the movement which gave good
proof of the young French officer’s ability to handle men, I should
surely make a bungling job of it.
Therefore it is I count to copy out what I afterwards read concerning
that escape of ours. There is no good reason why I should do other than
use the words of the man who knew full well what he was writing about;
for we lads had no part or parcel in that retreat, save as we followed
closely at the heels of the officers’ horses, running now and then
in order to keep pace, and again allowed to remain idle five or ten
minutes at a time, all the while so confused as to the general purpose
of the commander as not to be able clearly to understand anything save
when we crossed the ford, where, during a few moments, did it seem to
me as if we were safe.
We conversed very little during that marching and countermarching, for
we were puzzled, and again it was not seemly we should speculate as to
what was being done, because at times we were so near General Lafayette
himself that he could have heard our words.
Here is what I have seen set down in printed words regarding the
matter, and after reading it I can the better understand why we went
here or there.
“Lafayette proved himself adequate to the occasion. In a moment, as
it were, his dangers were revealed, and the one possible means of
extrication resorted to. Dispositions were made as though to receive
Gray; his artillery, by a well directed fire, encouraged the idea that
he proposed to engage.
“His real aim was, of course, flight, and by the ford; but to attain
it he must pass within a short distance of Grant, who was nearer to it
than himself.
“He feigned movements as though for an attack, and by an occasional
display of the heads of columns, he for a time persuaded the Englishman
that an action was imminent.
“Meantime the troops, as fast as they could come up, were hurrying
across the ford, until at last the artillery and a body of Oneida
savages only remained on this side the stream. These were also now
brought over, and on the high ground beyond our men were secure.
“Grant at last came up and ordered the advance to move on; but it was
too late. They saw but a party of our troops dotting the surface of the
water like the floats of a seine. The prey had escaped.
“Grant was hopelessly in the rear, and when Gray’s column closed in
there was nothing between the British lines. The only skirmishing even
that seems to have occurred was between a body of light horse and the
Oneidas. Neither had ever encountered a like foe, and when the cavalry
unexpectedly rode among the savages, the whooping and scampering of
the one, and the flashing swords and prancing steeds of the other
party, excited such a common terror that both fled with the utmost
precipitation.
“Irritated and empty-handed Howe marched back to town, with no one but
his own officers to blame for his ill success.”
Now it is that he who reads what I have just set down will understand
quite as much as did I, who took part in the manœuvre, how General
Lafayette succeeded in throwing dust in the eyes of the Britishers, and
brought off his men without loss of blood when it had seemed as if he
was in a trap from which it would be impossible to escape.
I would it might be possible for me to set down all that we saw and
heard in the camp at Valley Forge after the French officer had led
his men back in what might well be called a masterly retreat; but I
have not the space nor the time if I am to tell the story of what we
so-called Minute Boys of Philadelphia did.
It is not necessary for me to make any attempt at explaining how
saddened our soldiers at Valley Forge were when General Lafayette and
his men returned in what you may well call full flight. They had,
hoping even against hope, brought themselves to believe that something
of moment was to be done by this advance on Barren Hill, and when it
was shown to have come to naught, one can readily understand how great
was the disappointment.
We heard on every hand words which told how much of confidence the men
had placed on the movement; but none were grumbling. The advance had
been of no avail; yet they were not discouraged.
Already were our people looking forward to the time when a second
attempt would be made to worry the Britishers, and predicting that then
the result would be far different.
It was near to nightfall when we were come to Valley Forge, and the
Weaver of Germantown took special care to point out to us a small hut
nearby headquarters, which we were to be allowed to occupy, and went to
the extent of getting for us an order on the commissary for such food
as could be procured by these half-starved men.
Now although I loved the Cause as well as any other man or lad in the
colonies, my first thought when we were safe from the lobster-backs was
concerning young Chris, rather than that which might have been called a
disaster to our arms.
I feared he had allowed his tongue to bring him into trouble, else did
it seem to me he should have been able to leave Philadelphia secretly,
even as we had done; but whether the fault was his or no, we had no
right to consider it at that moment.
Unquestionably he had been made a prisoner, for surely the
lobster-backs could not have been talking about any other lad, because
I knew of none who would have put themselves in the way of thus coming
to grief.
He was our comrade, a member of our company of Minute Boys, and it was
my duty, I having allowed them to call me the captain, to set all my
wits at work to release him.
We had succeeded, even when all the chances appeared against us, in
effecting the escape of Jeremy and Sam, and I secretly grieved over the
fact that I had cut no better figure in that venture.
It was the Weaver of Germantown who had done all the work, and we lads
were of little or no assistance to him, therefore as yet, so it seemed
to me, the Minute Boys of Philadelphia had not shown themselves to any
great advantage.
It is true we had succeeded in gaining valuable information, and
had brought the same within the lines; but I burned to do more--to
accomplish something which should make my name known to those who were
staking their lives in battle, or against starvation.
It was necessary, so it seemed to me, that our first work, regardless
of what might be needed in aid of the Cause, was to learn what had
become of young Chris.
After all that had just happened I felt confident the lobster-backs
would keep a sharper watch over us rebels than ever before, and if
peradventure Chris had been thrown into prison, then did I despair,
even though we had the aid of the Weaver of Germantown, in doing
anything whatsoever toward effecting his release.
However, we would learn all that might be learned, even though we
risked our lives again and again in the effort, and this much I said
to my comrades when we were eating our scanty meal alone in the hut,
whereupon Jeremy Hapgood, seemingly of the same opinion as I had
advanced, asked quietly, as if ready to set off at a moment’s notice:
“How will you go about gaining this information which is necessary
before we can raise a hand in young Chris’s behalf? I must confess,
Richard Salter, that I question whether it will be possible for anyone
to aid the poor lad just now, unless, peradventure, the British march
out of Philadelphia, as it is rumoured General Clinton intends to do,
although I misdoubt it greatly.”
“The only way, so far as I can see, is to go back from whence we came.”
“Into Philadelphia?” Timothy Bowers cried as if in alarm, and I
replied, striving to speak in a careless tone as if familiar with such
desperate ventures:
“Ay, lad, that is what must be done. At the Jolly Tar inn we may find a
hiding place--”
“Yes, a hiding place!” Sam cried bitterly, “and where we must keep
under cover if we would save our necks. Of what avail is it to be
in that rear room of the Jolly Tar inn, eating our hearts out with
impatience, as far as aiding young Chris is concerned?”
“That is what I cannot say, lad; but certain it is while we remain here
there is no possibility of our doing anything whatsoever, and if we are
in the city there is a chance, however slight, that we may see some way
out of what is now a blind hobble.”
Although we Minute Boys of Philadelphia were not great in numbers,
verily were we ready to do whatsoever came to our hand, and the proof
of this is that when I had thus spoken, never a question was raised
against the proposition. All appeared not only ready but willing to
join me in going back to that nest of lobster-backs, where by this time
we knew were many on the lookout to take us prisoners.
It was when the matter had thus been settled among us that the Weaver
of Germantown came into the hut, and I fancy he understood by the
expression on our faces that we had been discussing some matter which
was far from pleasing, for he asked in a cheery tone, throwing himself
upon the floor beside me, for the hut boasted of neither chairs nor bed:
“What have you lads in mind now?”
“To go back to Philadelphia as soon as may be,” I replied shortly,
thinking he would attempt to persuade us that the venture was far too
dangerous.
“That is exactly what you should do, lads, and what I am counting on
doing myself within the next eight and forty hours, for now if ever is
the time when we must keep in touch with what the Britishers are doing.
If you set off at once, then may I delay so long as will be necessary
to have a look about Chestnut Hill.”
Then he would have laid out our work for us, telling what we should do
here or there, when I interrupted him by saying:
“It appears to me that our first duty is toward young Chris. It is
certain, from what Sam and Tim heard, that Skinny Baker has succeeded
in bringing the lobster-backs down upon him, and we must make the
attempt, even though we fail, to lend him a hand.”
“Ay, lad, all that is as it should be; but remember this: Your first
duty is to the Cause, and it is while you are working in behalf of the
colonies that you will best be able to discover some way in which you
can help Master Ludwig, if so be he is yet on this earth.”
“Do you fancy they might have killed him?” I cried in alarm, for until
the man spoke there had been no such fear in my mind.
“It is possible,” the Weaver of Germantown said slowly and in a subdued
tone. “The Britishers are not feeling overly happy just now, as we can
well understand. The pretended attack on their outposts showed them
that not only the rank and file, but the officers as well, are afraid
of what this rag-tag and bobtail of an army may do. Then the failure to
overwhelm the troops under General Lafayette, after Howe had boastingly
declared that he would bring back the general to Philadelphia a
prisoner, and even gone so far as to invite certain cronies of his to
a supper where he might exhibit the captive. All this, I say, is well
calculated to make the lobster-backs ill tempered, and if so be they
succeed in laying hands upon a spy, and your Skinny Baker can prove to
the satisfaction of any prejudiced person that young Chris has been
working in the interests of the colonies, then there is the chance that
he may have suffered the death.”
We lads were literally stupefied at the idea of such a possibility.
We had believed young Chris might be held close prisoner; but more
than that never entered our minds, and now, after hearing the Weaver
of Germantown speak in such a solemn tone, while knowing that the
arguments he advanced were sound ones, it seemed to us almost as if we
had learned that Chris was indeed gone from among us forever.
The man could readily see how he had disheartened us by his words,
and evidently believed it necessary to revive our courage if he would
have us set off speedily for the city, therefore he said in what he
doubtless counted should be a cheery tone:
“Do not look so downhearted, lads. I was but putting before you the
worst side of the case. It is by no means certain your Skinny Baker
could succeed in proving even to the Britishers that a boy like young
Chris was a spy. Then again, with all the excitement which has been in
the city during the past four and twenty hours, it might be a difficult
matter even for Skinny’s father to have speech with any of the
Britishers in command. Again, you are by no means certain young Chris
is really in the hands of the British. Cease to think of him other
than as one whom you count on finding without delay, and by such means
you will not only succeed better in your work for the Cause, but be in
shape to take a greater advantage of any opportunity which may come for
helping him. When do you set off?”
I had not gone so far in my plans as to name the hour when we would
leave Valley Forge. In fact, had counted on staying where we were at
least another four and twenty hours, for the march from Barren Hill
had been exceeding tiresome, and we were so weary that a rest seemed
absolutely necessary. But when the man asked the question I replied
quickly, as if it was a matter already settled:
“We go to-night.”
The other lads looked up in surprise, as if believing I had lost
my wits to set off when all of us were leg weary; but no one made
any comment save the Weaver of Germantown, who said in a tone of
satisfaction:
“That is well. The sooner you can shelter yourselves in the Jolly Tar
inn the better, and even though the lobster-backs are likely to be on
the alert for us rebels, I believe you may gain entrance to the city
more readily now than later. Just at this time it stands to reason that
they are considerably upset regarding the failure of their plans, and
surely whoever might be watching out for you--say for instance, Skinny
Baker--will hardly be foolish enough to think you would come directly
back after having made good your escape.”
I had committed myself to setting off at once, and lest the man should
think I had been talking at random, I immediately rose to my feet,
saying as I did so:
“I fancy we shall be the better able to make the journey if we set off
before our limbs have stiffened, as they surely will if we remain here
idle two or three hours more.”
Well, to make a short story out of what might well be a long one, we
left Valley Forge within ten minutes, the Weaver of Germantown walking
with us past all the sentries to be certain we had no difficulty in
leaving the encampment, and then, when he would have turned back, I
counted to hear from him some kindly word of encouragement because we
were venturing our necks once more.
Instead of anything of the kind, he simply shook us by the hand as if
we were going on an ordinary journey, and then turned to retrace his
steps.
Eager though we were to prove ourselves worthy to be called Minute
Boys, and burning to be of service to the Cause, there was never one of
us who could put any enthusiasm in this march which might end in our
death.
We, as I have already said, were weary almost to the verge of
exhaustion, and the miles which lay before us seemed so nearly
interminable that I felt almost as if we could not cover half of them
without failing utterly.
No one was in the mood for conversation, and we plodded on in the
darkness, keenly on the alert, however, for any sounds which should
betoken the coming of an enemy; but hardly conscious whether we had
traversed one yard or one mile.
I believe it was the possibility young Chris might have been executed
as a spy that had taken the courage from us to such an extent; but this
I do know to a certainty, that when the day was dawning we were not yet
beyond Germantown, and Jeremy Hapgood said to me in the tone of one who
will not brook opposition:
“I can go no farther, Richard Salter. Here nearby is a house where I
believe we may remain in hiding during the day, and although I am so
hungry that I could eat anything in the shape of food, yet must I lie
by until another night has come, for my weariness is greater than the
desire for something to eat.”
“Where may we remain hidden?” Sam asked, and I understood that he was
decidedly of Jeremy’s opinion.
Then it was the lad told us of a house which had been partially
destroyed by the Britishers when they marched into our city of
Philadelphia, claiming that he had visited it more than once while the
lobster-backs much the same as held us prisoners within our homes.
Without further parley we followed him, coming to what had originally
been a small cottage, but was now hardly more than a ruin, yet here
did it really seem as if we might find safe concealment, for it was
possible, as Jeremy showed us, to gain admission to the cellar, and
surely it must have been a suspicious lobster-back who would have
looked beneath the charred timbers for a company of lads.
Although while talking with the Weaver of Germantown I had been strong
in my determination to do whatsoever I might toward aiding young Chris,
yet was I rejoiced at thus coming to a place where I could stretch my
weary body out at full length, even though it was only on the bare
ground, and without making any search of the place, for it was yet too
dark to see clearly our surroundings, I threw myself upon the floor of
the cellar and was lost in slumber almost as soon as I closed my eyes.
When next I was conscious of existence, the faint light which came in
from beneath the charred timbers that overhung the cellar walls told me
it was yet day, and I raised myself on my elbow to look around.
My comrades, lying even as they had thrown themselves upon the floor
in exhaustion, were yet sleeping soundly, and dimly I wondered why I
should have been the first to awaken, when the sound of footsteps just
outside the building caused my heart to come into my throat, as the old
saying goes.
I knew there were none of our people left roundabout Germantown,
therefore whosoever was approaching our hiding place must be a
Britisher or a Tory. In my fear, for verily I was timorous, I fancied
we might have been tracked to this place, and now were come the
lobster-backs to take us in custody.
Pressing my hand over Jeremy’s mouth lest he should make some outcry
on being suddenly awakened, I shook him into consciousness, and at
the same time motioned with my hand toward the outside, that he might
understand there were possible enemies near at hand.
Then we two sat bolt upright, listening intently, as you can well
fancy; learning before many seconds had passed that there were no less
than four or five persons who had come somewhere near what had been
a window in the cellar wall of the ruins, and were now taking a rest
while discussing certain matters which concerned themselves.
So near were they to where we sat listening with all our heart in our
ears, that we could hear distinctly every spoken word, and before
we had thus played the eavesdroppers a dozen seconds did we come to
understand that fate, or fortune, whatsoever you may term it, had
brought us into the one place of all our colony of Pennsylvania where
we had most desired to be.
The first words we heard were spoken in a voice thoroughly familiar to
us, and we looked at each other in amazement, for it was Skinny Baker
himself who was saying in a whining tone that caused all the anger
within me to spring up, reddening my face until I knew it must have
been nearly the color of blood:
“I tell you I heard all those fellows said concerning what they would
do against the king,” the Tory cur was saying as if in answer to some
reproof or question. “This lad here has been one of the foremost in
starting what they call the Minute Boys of Philadelphia, and if you
know aught regarding the people of our town, then do you know that
Ludwig, the baker, is as rank a rebel as may be found within the
colonies.”
Jeremy and I gazed at each other in astonishment. That which we had
heard told us our comrade was within mayhap a dozen paces of where we
sat, and I literally struggled to understand how it could have happened
he was not already lodged in prison.
Before any of Skinny’s companions made reply there came to my mind like
a flash of light an explanation of this matter, and it was much like
this: I believed young Chris had been taken prisoner within a short
distance, mayhap, of Barren Hill, and put under guard to be carried to
Philadelphia. Skinny, who, there could be no question, was responsible
for Chris’s arrest, had remained with these lobster-backs in order to
gloat over the lad whom he had brought to grief; but why they had not
come down in advance of the army I failed of understanding.
However, they must have loitered behind for some reason or another, or
might have come as far as this place with the main body of troops and
stopped here to rest, for those who wore the king’s uniform were not
overly eager to do more of labour than was absolutely necessary.
I have said all this came into my mind like a flash, and it was within
one single instant that I settled the matter, at least, to my partial
satisfaction, and then understood why Skinny was striving to convince
these men of young Chris’s guilt, for one of them said angrily, with
that accent which bespoke the cockney Britisher:
“If it so happen good King George can be hurt by such an infant as
this, then is it time we who have come to whip these rebels into
subjection, turn about and go home. I enlisted to fight men, not
children.”
“You watch this fellow a little while, and you’ll come to understand
that there is no child about him,” Skinny replied vindictively.
“Haven’t I already told you what he has done?”
“Yes, you have, lad, and yet I am not bound to believe it all. If a
chap like you allows himself to be towed around a city filled with
king’s troops without making any attempt at escaping, then is he likely
to draw the long bow when he explains how it happened.”
It was only natural Skinny should be excited and angry at thus being
much the same as told that he was a coward, and straightway he began
explaining how we lads fell upon him in overwhelming numbers, and how
impossible it was for him to make any outcry while we were marching him
through the streets.
This explanation occupied so much time that I set about awakening Tim
and Sam, even as I had aroused Jeremy, and the expression on their
faces when they heard Skinny Baker talking would have been to me
comical in the extreme, but for our situation.
A fellow cannot well laugh when he knows that within the next minute,
perhaps, he may find himself a prisoner, and therefore it was their
looks of surprise and dismay were passed by unheeded.
When Skinny had told his story with great detail, and a vast amount
of untruth, one of the men asked as if it was a matter of little
importance to him:
“And now having pointed out this boy as a rebel, what do you count
will become of him? Is it in your mind he shall be dealt with as a spy?”
“Ay, that it is!” Skinny cried in a fury, and I could well fancy the
expression of hatred on the miserable cur’s face as he spoke. “How else
can he be dealt with after I have told the story of what he did?”
“That is as those who hear you may be inclined to say whether you are
telling the truth in the interest of his majesty, or striving to pay
off a private grudge.”
I could have hugged the man who made that suggestion, and really
believe I laughed inwardly when Skinny, now so angry that he could not
speak plainly, snarled:
“They will believe me when I show what he has done. It is well known
he was among those who held me prisoner, and I can bring lads who will
swear he did his best to make them agree to become Minute Boys. If such
work as that doesn’t bring him to the gallows, then can every rebel in
Philadelphia do whatsoever he may without fear of coming to grief.”
It was then another voice broke in, saying with a yawn, as if wearied
by the controversy:
“Why shall we spend our breath talking of what may or may not be?
It simply remains with us to carry this boy into the city and lodge
him in the stone prison, after which we may go about our business,
and blooming glad shall I be, for this escorting children around the
country for the purpose of having them hanged later, is not to my
liking.”
Then it was that Skinny would have repeated again the list of young
Chris’s crimes; but that one of the men interrupted him by saying:
“We’ve heard that yarn once, and there is no need of your telling it
again. I am wondering why the prisoner holds his tongue.”
That same thought was in my mind, for young Chris was never inclined
to remain silent when there was any provocation to wag his tongue,
and now, being almost the same as invited to defend himself, he said,
speaking like a man:
“Much of what that Tory cur has said is true; a great deal is made
up out of whole cloth. We did take him prisoner, because while being
engaged in work of our own, he played the spy upon us, and we were
not minded he should run to tell the news broadcast over the town,
for it would look much as though we had been engaged in some unlawful
transaction. When we laid hands on him, the wretch was so frightened
that he did not dare defend himself even with his tongue. A lamb going
to the slaughter-house couldn’t have moved more peaceably or willingly.
The only regret I have is that he who has brought me into this trouble
was not a decent fellow, and surely you who have seen and heard him can
have a fairly good idea of what a cur he is.”
Jeremy clutched my hand tightly as if to show how proud he was because
young Chris had spoken in such a manly fashion, and we lads looked
at each other in triumph, for of a verity we had never given the lad
credit for having so stiff a backbone.
From the tone of the conversation among the lobster-backs which
followed, I could fancy our comrade had succeeded in gaining sympathy,
if no more, by his speech, and that Skinny Baker had fallen even lower
in their estimation than before; but nothing of consequence to us was
said.
We now knew that young Chris was to be taken to the stone prison, and
if so be he was confined there rather than in the work-house, then we
might say with good reason that there was no chance whatsoever for us
to aid him. No matter how favourable the circumstances were, there
wasn’t a possibility we, even though with a dozen men like the Weaver
of Germantown to help us, could do aught toward effecting his release.
However, we had at least learned his destination, which would prevent
us from wasting our time in trying to discover where he might be, and
this was no little gain.
More than that, we had gotten some satisfaction from having thus
overheard the conversation between Skinny and the lobster-backs, since
it served to show us of what mettle young Chris was made, and if so
be it was permitted he should come from out his troubles, I said to
myself that never again would I doubt his courage, nor never once
raise my voice in reproach when, to my mind, he was speaking rashly or
foolishly.