THE RIDE WITH THE LIEUTENANT
TOM COWARD followed young Lieutenant Gordon as he led the way to the
post to which Friend Nathan had tied the steed, and then stopped and for
a moment gazed ruefully at the beast. His friend's good-natured laugh
broke forth again as he beheld Tom's evident hesitancy about mounting to
the back of the animal; and surely to a boy who had been accustomed to
ride the colts in Benzeor's pastures without saddle or bridle, and dash
about the lots in sheer delight at the antics and efforts of the
unbroken steeds to dislodge their rider, there was not much to inspire
or impress him in the sight of the broken-winded beast which Nathan had
provided. Even the horse himself appeared to be conscious of his
degradation, and stood motionless and with hanging head, as if he, too,
would protest against any warlike efforts on his part.
"I've only one request to make, Nathan," said the lieutenant. "I'm sure
you will not object to it, but I think I'd better make it before we
start."
"What is thy request?" said the Quaker.
"If General Washington once sees that horse, he'll want it for himself.
You'll not object, will you, to his use of it?"
"Nay. I think not that George Washington will care for this beast of
mine," protested Nathan soberly, and apparently not suspecting that the
young officer was poking fun at him. "Still, he may be able to make him
of some use. Thee will not forget to see that I am suitably rewarded?"
"Never fear as to that, though I doubt not my friend Tom here will be of
the opinion that you ought to pay him handsomely for the pain he will
suffer after he has ridden your beast a few miles. That is, if the horse
can go as far as that."
"Thy heart may rest easy as to that. He may limp when he first starts,
but as soon as his joints are warmed he will do thy service."
"We'll warm his joints, then," laughed the lieutenant. "You might be
warming him up now, Tom," he added, turning to his companion, "while I'm
getting my horse ready. He's in the barn, and I'll join you in a minute
or two."
In a brief time the officer returned, but his steed was showing the
evidences of his recent hard work, and Nathan's eyes twinkled with
satisfaction at the sight, for his own horse, perhaps, might not then be
at such a disadvantage, and the prospect of a "suitable" reward became
more promising.
The young men quickly mounted, and, after thanking their host in a
substantial manner for his hospitality, started down the long lane which
led to the road beyond. Tom's horse limped painfully and caused no
little delight to young Gordon, who again and again laughed aloud and
offered all manner of suggestions to the lad concerning the impression
he would create when the army should discover his approach.
At times Tom thought of dismounting and, turning the horse loose in the
road, strive to make his own way on foot; but the creaking joints of the
poor beast seemed to find relief with action, and the young riders had
not gone far on their way before, to the surprise of both, Nathan's
steed was proving his ability to keep up with the lieutenant's horse,
which evidently had been overridden and was in no condition for a hard
ride.
But, with the discovery of the service which Tom's horse might render,
all the disposition to regard their journey lightly departed from the
riders, and the serious nature of their undertaking rendered both of
them silent. The American army could not be far distant now, but between
them and it all the dangers had not disappeared. The visit of the
British band at the home of Nathan Brown had indicated that other
parties might be in the region on similar errands; but Tom was not
thinking of these possibilities so much as was the young officer who was
riding by his side.
Tom's meditations were mostly concerning the American army. For months
his strongest desire had been to join it, and now that the time had come
when his desires were likely to be satisfied, he discovered that much of
his eagerness was gone. Not that he had any thought of turning back, but
the proximity of the two armies clearly indicated that a meeting between
the forces was not improbable, and Tom's thoughts were largely of that.
The glamour was all gone now, and the serious nature of his undertaking
was uppermost in his mind. The silence also of his companion did not
tend to allay his fears, but the lad did not refer to them, and was
doing his utmost to make his horse keep up the pace at which he was
going.
"Whew! This is a warm morning! Let's give our horses a drink and a
rest," said the lieutenant at last, as he turned into a little brook
that crossed the road.
Tom followed his example, and the dripping horses thrust their heads
deep into the water. The sun had now appeared and the beams fell full on
their faces. The air was motionless, and even at that early hour was in
places quivering under the heat of the summer sun. The very birds were
silent, while high overhead the heavens were like brass. On the horizon
masses of dark clouds were piled, and a low, deep rumble startled both
the young riders.
"Was that a cannon, or was it thunder?" inquired Tom quickly.
"Thunder. We may hear the cannon before long, though."
"Why don't we start on, then? The sooner we gain the army the better. We
don't want to be caught in here between them." Tom spoke anxiously, and
his fear was as apparent in the expression upon his face as in his
words.
"We've got to give our horses a bit of a rest. Mine has been going hard
all night, and yours won't be able to go far in such heat as this. We'll
have to be careful of their strength, or we shall be worse off than we
are now."
"Have you been out all night? What have you been doing?"
"Finding out what Clinton is up to. When I was talking with Nathan I
knew all the time more about it than he did."
"Did you find out?" said Tom eagerly. "What are the redcoats doing now?"
"Pretty much the same thing they've been doing right along. They're
making a change in the direction they're going, unless I'm greatly
mistaken. And then, too, they've done something else which doesn't
promise very well."
"What's that?"
"They've drawn all their stronger forces into the rear guard and sent on
the Hessians with the baggage train in front, for one thing."
"Why do you suppose they have done that?"
"Oh, they've an idea, I fancy, that we're going to try to take their
supplies. They'll find out, though, that we're after men more than we
are after their baggage wagons. However, that explains the change in
the direction of their march, if I'm not greatly mistaken. They've put
the Hessians in front and the best men behind."
"I wish they had left the Dutch butchers there!" said Tom impulsively.
"I hate the Hessians. I hate the very name and sight of them! Think of
it! A lot of men just hired to come over here and shoot and kill and
steal! I wish they had been left where they were, that is, if General
Washington is ready for them!"
"I think you'll find him ready when the time comes," remarked the
lieutenant quietly. "But about the Hessians. I don't like them any
better than you do, but somehow I can't bring myself to feel about it as
some of the men do. I can't see that they're to be blamed for being
brought over here, or even being engaged in such work as they're doing;
and I know more about that than you do, too. The ones who are the worst
are not those who have come over here, but those who have sent them.
Just think of a petty little prince, or king, being able to hire out a
lot of his own subjects to pay off his own debts with! These men feel
just the same as you or I would, I have thought. They have wives and
mothers and children, and yet they have to leave them all and come over
here and be marks for our bullets, whether they want to be or not. They
just haven't anything to say about it. They're told to come and come
they must, though there won't be so many to go back as came over, I'm
thinking. At least, I'm going to do all I can to thin out their ranks,
though I feel sorry for the poor fellows all of the time."
This was a new way of looking at the hated "Dutch butchers," at least it
was entirely new to Tom Coward. He had heard only the expressions of
rage among the colonists which their coming had aroused, and their
strange words and brutal acts had never received much mercy in the
judgment which he had heard passed upon them by his acquaintances.
The anger of the patriots, perhaps, was but natural; but the employment
of the Hessians has not furnished the only instance in history where the
first and most apparent view has not always been the most correct one.
Indeed, it frequently happens that the troubles between men, to say
nothing of boys, arises from a misunderstanding; and it is the part of
wisdom, as well as of justice, to look below the surface and try to
discover the true conditions.
"Then the British are to be blamed, if what you say is true," said Tom,
after a brief silence. "They are the ones at the bottom of it all."
"Yes, the British are the ones who are most to be blamed. But even
there, Tom, if I'm correctly informed, it's the leaders and not the
people. The way I understand it is that the rank and file of the common
people in England are opposed to this war, and would put a stop to it in
a moment if they could."
"If they could?" repeated Tom. "I don't understand what you mean."
"Just what I say. The very best people in England have, from the very
beginning of this war, been opposed to the taxes, the use of the
Indians, and the hiring of these Hessians. It's the king and Lord North
and a few others of the pig-headed fellows who are doing it all. Tom, my
father and my mother both came from England. As far back as I can
remember they have told me stories of our old home and of the friends we
have over there. Why, do you know it's been the dream of my life to go
over there some day, and meet some of my cousins and see the place
where my father and mother were born."
"I didn't know you were a tory," said Tom slowly.
"Tory? I haven't a drop of tory blood in my veins, and hope I never
shall have."
"But--but--you talk like one."
"Is it tory talk for me to say I don't blame the Hessians for coming
over here, but those who hired them and sent them? Is it tory talk for
me to say I love to think of the place where my father and mother were
born, and that I should be glad to look into the faces of those who bear
the same name I do, and who have some of the same kind of blood in their
veins? Is it tory talk for me to say that I'm proud of what Old England
has done, or rather of many things she has done, from the days of
William the Conqueror until now? And that belongs to me as much as it
does to them, for my own grandfather was one of the bravest men in the
whole British army! This war is like one between brothers, and it's all
the more wicked on that account. And it's worse yet, because the most of
the Englishmen are not in favor of it at all."
"I don't just see why you don't fight with the redcoats, instead of
against them, then."
"Because this is my home and this is my country, and because the king
and his court aren't fit to govern cannibals, to say nothing of men. No,
sir, it's just because I do believe in all I've said that I'm fighting
for my country and shall till the war is ended--which I hope will be
soon!"
"And would you shoot a redcoat or a Dutch butcher?"
"Every time! It was a sad thing that the war had to come, but as come it
did, it would be sadder still not to do everything in our power now to
carry it through. I'm sorry for the Hessians, but I'd shoot every one of
them if I could do it. I'm sorry for the redcoats, and I know they are
not to be blamed, or at least some of them are not, but I'd mow them
down now, every one of them, as I'd cut the grass in haying-time. Fight?
Why, my lad, I'm in this war from the crown of my head to the sole of my
foot! And I wouldn't stop till the redcoats cry 'enough,' or we drive
them right into the Atlantic ocean, the way Parson Tennent used to tell
about the pigs in Gadara being chased by the devils right into the sea.
Not that I think the ones who are doing the chasing are in any way
connected with the swine drivers in the parson's story," he added,
laughing lightly as he spoke. "But we must be going. Our horses are
rested now, and we'll be running into a thunder-storm before we see the
Continentals, if we don't look out."
The ride was quickly resumed, but Tom Coward was silent and sadly
puzzled to account for his friend's words. Apparently, he was
enthusiastic in his devotion to the cause of the patriots, but he had
never heard any one talk in that manner before. His friends and
neighbors were all hard and bitter, and the bitterness seemed to
increase as the war continued. But here was his friend, fighting with
all the devotion of his heart, and yet not blaming the very men he was
trying hard to conquer for the part they were taking in the war.
It seemed to him all strange, and while he was deeply impressed by many
of the words of the enthusiastic young lieutenant, his own feelings were
of a very decidedly different character. For a half hour they rode
forward as swiftly as their steeds could carry them, but the heavy
clouds had meanwhile been climbing higher in the heavens, and the
mutterings of the thunder had now become deeper and heavier.
"We'll put into that barn ahead there, and wait for the storm to pass,"
said the lieutenant, pointing as he spoke to a rude barn by the
roadside.
As the rain was now falling, Tom was glad to follow the advice, and in a
few moments they approached the open door. They had not dismounted when
a strangely clad being stepped forth from the barn and shouted:--
"Halt, will yez? I'll be after havin' yez give an account of yerselves,
that I will."
Tom glanced up in fear and surprise, and the sight before him did not
tend to allay his alarm. The soldier presented a gun, but was its bearer
a man or woman? A long petticoat certainly looked like the garb of a
woman, but the soldier also was clad in an artilleryman's coat, while a
cocked hat and feathers crowned the head of the strange being.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a voice that was gruff and deep, the
strangely clad soldier bore but slight resemblance to a woman, though
the dress certainly seemed to proclaim the sex of the speaker.
The rain was now falling in torrents and Tom was drenched in a moment;
but in the brief silence which followed the demand of the soldier, he
could not determine what course his companion would decide to follow.