♦ • % ^ **^ v./ .*^-V. X/ A^*^ •^^ '^.f .^^.•lll^'* '^^ "' ••« =o •\Fii(i:i;s cakoi sim; at \ i;i;i'1, a xck's i'(»i.\'i' THE CAMP-FIRE AT GERMANTOWN. 145 accordingly joined a company of volunteers, at the beginning of the war, in the year '75, and is in the army now, I believe, but I can't tell where he is stationed. When he first enlisted, he was in that division of the army, which was under the command of General Putnam. Captain Wetherbe commanded the company to which he belonged. The captain well understood the warlike merits of the stripling; but Stewart was not personally known to Putnam — indeed, it would have been mere luck and chance, if he had been. He had already signalized himself in two or three hard-fought battles ; and, but for his extreme youth, would, at the time of which I am about to speak, have been promoted to the rank of ensign, or lieutenant. The incidents which I am about to relate, occurred just on the eve of the battle at White Plains. " The British army was encamped within two miles of the Americans. The two armies had been watch- ing each other's movements for several days, without coming to a general engagement. At length, one evening, both armies were making the necessary preparations for the night's rest; expecting, on the morrow, to try the precarious fortunes of a general engagement. The captains of the several companies had already designated those who were to stand guard during the night, except Captain Wetherbe, who had selected all his, with the exception of one. He was 13 K 146 THE CAMP-FIRE busily engaged in looking through his company, for a soldier to fill the vacancy, when, as good or bad for- tune — I don't know which — would have it. General Putnam passed that way. As he approached, the captain was in the act of calling Arthur Stewart, a beardless boy then, from the ranks, to act as a sen- tinel during the night. The general, with mingled emotions of surprise and anger, stepped up to the captain, and taking him a little on one side, said : 'Captain Wetherbe, what is the meaning of this? Are you so thoughtless and imprudent as to select this boy for a sentinel ? a boy who has just left his leading-strings, to discharge the most responsible duties of a soldier ! You know that the British army is almost within musket-shot of the American lines ! Are we not in imminent danger of being attacked to- night ? or, at least, of having the British spies disco- vering our movements ? I beg you to look a little to this matter.' 'Your fears are entirel}'- groundless,' replied Wetherbe. * I know the boy ; and I would be willing to sleep under the very guns of a British fort, with Arthur Stewart to watch over me. There 's not another soldier in my company, I would choose sooner than him — either for sentinel, or anything else. I am certain that he will do his duty to-night.' * Do as you please, then,' answered Putnam ; ' I have con- fidence in your judgment ;' and he turned, and walked away. AT GERMANTOTVN. 147 "It SO happened, that this conversation, though intended to be carried on aside, was overheard by Stewart, and several others. I do n't know how it is, but there is an unaccountable sensibility in the organ of hearing, whenever we suspect we are ourselves the subject of remark — especially animadversion. " Stewart had taken his post as sentinel, during the first part of the night. It so happened that Gen- eral Putnam had occasion to pass outside the lines. On his way, he did not encounter Arthur Stewart, but another sentinel ; who, ascertaining that it was the general, immediately allowed him to pass. After being absent a short time, he made towards the lines, as though he intended to return. In his course, he encountered Sfewart. 'Who goes there?' enquired the sentinel. 'General Putnam,' was the reply. ' We know no General Putnam here,' Stewart an- swered. ' But / am General Putnam,' returned that person; by this time growing somewhat earnest. ' Give me the countersign,' returned Stewart. It so happened, that the general had somewhat unaccount- ably forgotten what the countersign was ; or at least could nut, at the moment, call it to mind. ' I have forgotten it,' was the reply. ' This is a pretty story from the lips of General Putnam. You are a British officer, sent over here as a spy,' returned Stewart, who was well aware that he was addressing Putnam ; for the moon was shining brightly, and revealed the 148 THE CAMP-FIRE features of the general ; but he had the staff in his own hand, and he meant to use it. ^ I warrant you, I am not,' said the general ; and he attempted to pass on. ' Pass that line. Sir, and you are a dead man !' exclaimed Stewart, at the same time cocking his gun. ' Stop where you are, or I '11 make you stop !' con- tinued the sentinel, as the general disregarded his first notice. Hastily raising his gun to his shoulder, and taking a somewhat deliberate aim, he pulled the trigger ; but, from some reason or other, the discharge did not follow. ' Hold ! hold !' exclaimed Putnam. *I do hold,' was the reply. 'The gun holds its charge a great deal better than I intended it should ;' immediately priming his musket for a second trial. ' You are not priming that gun for me ?' asked Put- nam, anxiously. ' That depends entirely upon cir- cumstances. I warn you, once more, not to pass those lines.' ' But I am your general,' continued Putnam. ' I deny it, unless you give the counter- sign.' Here the general was at fault. He strove to recall the important word; but all was in vain. ' Boy,' said he, ' do you not know me ? I am General Putnam.' 'A British officer, more like. If you are Putnam, as you say, why don't you give me the countersign ? So sure as I 'm my mother's son, if you attempt to pass the lines, I '11 make cold-meat of you. I 'm a sentinel. I know my duty ; though there are some people in the world, who are marvellously in- GENERAL PUTNAM AND THE SENTINEL. AT GERMANTOWN. 149 clined to question it.' At this, Putnam, finding that further parley would be useless, desisted; and the boy, deliberately shouldering his musket, began, with a great deal of assumed haughtiness, to pace the ground as before. " Here was the redoubtable General Putnam, the hero of a hundred battles, kept at bay by a stripling of seventeen ! This scene, in my humble judgment, would have been a fine subject for a painter's pencil. Putnam, finding that the boy was in earnest — for he had had alarming proof of it — durst not,* for his life, proceed a step further. He waited until Stewart was relieved ; when the other sentinel, finding he was, in truth, General Putnam, allowed him to pass without giving the countersign. But the general's feelings were terribly excited. He knew, in his inmost soul, that the boy had done nothing but his duty ; still, he felt that he had been most egregiously insulted. Had Stewart permitted him to pass without giving the countersign, and he had proved to be a British spy, the boy, according to the rules of war, would have been shot for his negligence. This was the manner in which Putnam's intellect reasoned; but his feelings by no means coincided with it. It is a terrible warfare, when a man's feelings come to an open rupture with his sound judgment; and such cases are by no means rare. " General Putnam had determined, on returning to 13* 150 THE CAMP-FIRE his quarters, to punish the boy severely ; but, after a Httle calm reflection on the subject, he felt somewhat difierently about it. A sense of honor and justice returned ; and, sending for the boy on the morrow, he thus addressed him : ' You are the lad who stood sentinel, on the left wing of the army, last night, I believe ?' ' I am,' replied Stewart. ' Did you know the man who encountered you, while at your post ?' continued the general. ' I suspected who he might be,' returned the boy. ' Then why did you not per- mit him to pass V enquired Putnam, rather sharply. ' I should have forfeited the reputation of being a vigilant sentinel, had I done so,' replied Stewart, without any "hesitation. ' That's right,' said the gen- eral; 'you did just as I myself would have done, had I been in your place. We have nothing to fear from the British, or any other enemy, with such soldiers as you. Discipline is the soul of an army !' and taking from his purse a piece of gold, he pre- sented it to the boy ; at the same time charging him never to forfeit the character he had already acquired. Arthur was, shortly afterwards, promoted to the rank of ensign." "A fine fellow, that same Arthur Stewart!" ejacu- lated one of his auditors, after Captain Peterson had concluded. " My sentiments exactl}^," replied the captain. "He will yet distinguish himself, I warrant; for AT GERMANTOWN. 151 he has every qualification requisite in a soldier, and I should not wonder in the least, at hearing that he had signalized himself at Saratoga ; for that is where I think he must be at this time, with General Gates's army." THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. The name of Valley Forge will long be remem- bered, as one of the remarkable places of the Revolu- tion. It is situated about twenty miles from the city of Philadelphia. When, on the 18th of December, 1777, Washington gave orders to establish a fortified camp on this spot, which is bounded, on one side, by the river Schuylkill, and on the others by ridges of hills, the ground was covered with woods. This timber, the commander-in-chief determined should furnish materials for the necessary dwellings, to afford shelter to the army. Accordingly, the trees were felled for this purpose, and huts constructed of the logs ; the dimensions of each being sixteen feet by fourteen. One hut was assigned to twelve privates ; and one to a smaller number of officers, according to their rank. A general officer had a whole hut to himself. These rude dwellings were arranged in parallel lines, where the shape of the ground would admit ; and, when the encampment was completed, it had the appearance of a town, with streets and ave- (152) THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. 153 nues. The soldiers from the same State, inhabited the same street or quarter. The whole encampment was surrounded, on the land side, by intrenchments ; and a bridge was thrown across the river, to establish a communication with the country in that direction. Here it was that the American army underwent sufferings such as have scarcely a parallel in military history. On their march to the spot, over the hard, frozen ground, such was their destitute condition, with respect to clothing, that they presented a pitiable spectacle ; and their course might have been traced on the ground, by the blood drawn from their bare feet upon the march. While hutted at Valley Forge, at one time, no less than 2898 men were unfit for duty, because barefoot, and otherwise naked; and this, be it remembered, in the depth of winter. Only eighty-two hundred men, fit for duty, could have been mustered to resist the attack of General Howe's numerous and well-appointed army, had that officer seen fit to march but twenty miles from his comfort- able quarters in Philadelphia, for the purpose of trying the fortune of war. Washington's letters, written at this dark period of the war, disclose not only the melancholy facts of the case, but the causes from which they resulted; namely, the inertness of Congress, the apathy of the people, and the wretched system, or rather no system, of supplies, which prevailed at that time. He remarks, 154 THE CAMP-FIRE in one of these letters : " Upon the ground of safety and policy, I am obliged to conceal the true state of the army from public view, and thereby expose my- self to calumny and detraction." Incapacity in the commissariat department of the army is glaringly apparent, from the fact, that, at the very time when the army was suffering so severely for want of clothing, hogsheads of shoes, stockings, and other wearing apparel, intended for the soldiers, were lying at different places, upon the road and in the woods, useless, for want of teams and proper management, and of ready money, to pay the team- sters for their transportation. On a certain night, in the middle of this disastrous winter, in one of the huts appointed for the accom- modation of the Massachusetts line, three men might be seen sitting around a fire, and discoursing on the events of the war, by way of beguiling the dreary hours of darkness. These men were literally com- pelled to sit up by the fire all night, for want of a sufficient supply of blankets to accommodate the whole twelve who occupied the hut. The other nine, having blankets, could sleep ; and, on the next night, three of them would have to take their turn of watching. They conversed in a low tone, so as not to disturb the sleepers in the surrounding bunks, or berths ; but, occasionally, exciting themes raised their voices, till AT VALLEY FORGE> 155 a warning snort, from some half-awakened sleeper, would remind them of their want of caution ; and then their tones would sink into a stern whisper. " I say, Ira Lawrence," said one of these soldiers, John Downing by name, a stalwart fellow, standing some six and a half feet without shoes ; " I say, Ira, what would our friends in Groton think, if they could know what we are doing, and what we are suffering at this blessed minute ?" " I guess," replied Ira, " they would think we were tarnation fools for 'listing in the army at all. I do n't care, though, what they might think. I aint a-going to write home about it. My old man told me I might go ; though I was only nineteen, and he wanted me desputly on the farm ; and I won't make him and mother uneasy, by telling tales out o' school. We 're in for it now, and I go for facing it out as a man ought to." " Well said, Ira, — well said !" replied Downing. " You 're a little fellow ; but you 've got the real grit in you. You 're a regular full-blooded Yankee, and an honor to the Bay State, though you're but just tall enough to pass muster. I like your sentiment ; I honor your spunk !" " It 's mighty aggrivoking, though," said Joe Shaw, the third man of the party ; a raw-boned, keen-looking fellow, of middling stature, in a ragged uniform, and three-cornered hat, seldom removed from his head; 156 THE CAMP-FIRE " yes, it is a leetle too prevoking to think how nicely them tarnal red-coats are enjoying themselves in their snug quarters in the city, while we, the rightful owners of this here sile, have to sit up all night, over a fire of pitch-pine knots, for want of blankets to sleep in ! It is a leetle too much for human patience to stand." " Well," said Ira, " it is hard. That 's a fact. But it 's a great comfort to me, to know that we are bound to pitch it into 'em pretty strong, next spring. We '11 make 'em suffer !" " Do n't you think," said Joe, " that the army will be in a nice, suitable 'frame of mind/ as Deacon Tibbets calls it, for fighting, next spring, if this freez- ing and starving goes on all winter ?" "Well," replied Ira, with a long, slender, nasal drawl, " I guess they will. I feel as if I could kill a red-coat, and eat him, too, this minute." " I like your sentiment, Ira," said John Downing, stretching out his herculean arms, and bringing his fists together with a crushing blow ; at the same time, grinning a formidable defiance, and hissing out an "Ah! ah! hah! Wouldn't I like to have here, at arm's length before me, any one of the murdering blackguards, that gave the people so much trouble over in Jarsey, last winter, burning, plundering, and ravishing ! If I stay here in these clearings for one thing more than another, it is for the chance AT VALLEY FORGE. 157 of a dig at some of those infernal villains, with my bagonet!'"^ " With them etarnal long arms of yourn," said Ira, " you could stick a grenadier half a mile off, and lift him clean over your head. You must be a mighty ugly customer, John, in a bagonet skrimmage. Have you had much practice in that 'air' line?" " I have had some, I guess, before you j'ined our company. There was that kick-up we had about the oxen, last fall, over on t' other side of the Jarseys. Did n't I never tell ye about that ?" " Never a word," replied Joe. " Well, that was warm work, I guess," rejoined the tall soldier. " Pray tell us all about it," said Joe. " Well, it 's a long story, and we must have some more pitch-knots on the fire, before I begin ;" and, at the word, both of John's comrades hastened to heap more wood on the fire. This done, they assumed the most comfortable sitting posture for listening, while Long John stood up at his full length, before the blazing light of the pitch-knots, and commenced his narrative. " It was in the airly part of last fall — in Septem- ber, I guess — when I was one of a detachment of light * All of the Continental rank and file with whom the writer has conversed, used this pronunciation for 'bayonet;' and they called a three-cornered hat, a ' bagonet- hat.' 14 158 THE CAMP-FIRE infantry, some three thousand strong, that General "Washington had sent to guard some fat cattle, that had been bought by the commissary, for the army. I vow, Ira, I wish we had one of them same oxen here now, for our mess ! " Oh, go ahead with your story," said Ira, " and let the mess alone." " "Well, as I was saying, these cattle were feeding on a piece of intervale land ; I guess there was about three hundred acres in the lot, with all the timber and wood cleared off; and it lay between a piece of thick woods and the river." " "What river ?" enquired Ira. " Why, the North River, to be sure. I told you it was on the other side of Jarsey, right over against York State." " Oh, yes, I understand," returned Ira ; " but who commanded the detachment ?" " "Who but the Marquis de La Fayette !" was the answer. " Du tell !" exclaimed Ira, with wide-open eyes and mouth. " Well ! I never !" ejaculated Joe ; these exclama- tions expressing the very acme of Yankee astonish- ment. " You never told us before, that you had been in a fight under the Marquis." " Well," returned John, " if you will only shut up AT VALLEY FORGE. 159 your etarnal clam-shells, I '11 tell ye all about it, now. We '11 never have a better chance ; for we 've got the whole night before us; and we may be frozen or starved to death, before our turn comes round to watch again." " Go ahead, then — go ahead." "Well, as I was a-saying, our detachment was stationed about five miles from the intervale lot that I spoke of, where the cattle were being pastured ; and our business was to see that the cattle were not stolen away by the enemy. The intervale, you understand, was on a point of land running out into the river ; and our men were on the neck ; so that the cattle could n't have been reached, from the land-side, with- out a bit of a brush with us." " But the regulars could come in sloops and trans- ports," said Ira. " Yes, you may say that," replied John ; " and they were always mighty hungry after fat beef. But you shall hear the upshot of the business. One morning, just about the break of day, I was standing sentry, on the side of our encampment next to the cattle, which, as I said before, were full five miles from where we lay. I was thinking about home, and cal- culating that father might be pretty well through with harvesting his winter rye, when I heard some fellow trotting along over the ground pretty consider- able hard, and coming right towards me. I hailed 160 THE CAMP-FIRE him just as he came out of the bushes. ' Who goes there?' 'A friend/ says he. 'Advance and give the countersign !' sajs I. ' I do n't know the countersign ; but the regulars is landing from the river ; and if you do n't make haste, they '11 carry off all your fat cattle, in their launches !' By this time, the man, who was a Jarsey countryman, was standing right before me. Seeing he was a little fellow, not more than five feet ten, I just grabbed him by the collar, with my right hand, and cocked and discharged my piece in the air, with my left. " ' Now,' says I, ' my good fellow, if what you say is true, you '11 get rewarded for your news ; but if you 've been giving a false alarm, you '11 catch it, or my name 's not Jack Downing.' ' It 's as true as preaching,' said the countryman. " In five minutes, the guard was upon us in force. They carried ofi" the fellow to the Marquis's quarters ; and, in fifteen minutes more, our regiment was ordered to march down to the point in double-quick time. Our colonel was Rufus Putnam, a nephew of the gen- eral." " What — Old Put ?" enquired Ira. " Old Put, himself. This nephew is a chip of the old block, too, I can tell you ; as cool as a peach, and as wide awake, when the smell of gunpowder is about, as Old Put himself. We were mustered in a hurry, and the way we marched over that five miles AT VALLEY FORGE. 161 of rough ground, was a caution to continentallers ! It was n't running ; but it was a sample of the tallest kind of walking that ever I experienced ; and you know I aint slow at that exercise." " When we had got pretty near to the edge of the woods, the colonel ordered the adjutant to go forward and see where the regulars were, and how many they mustered. The adjutant came back pretty soon, and reported that they were forming, on the shore, in three columns ; and that each of the columns, as near as he could calculate, was about a thousand strong. The colonel rose right up in his stirrups, and pointing back with his sword, he says, ' Then ride back to the camp, as fast as you can go, and tell Lafayette to come on !' Off went the adjutant, like an arrow from King Philip's bow, and Colonel Putnam rode right up to my captain. It was Captain Daniel Shays — a good officer, and a right clever man to his soldiers. ' Well, Captain Shays,' says he, ' shall we be a-playing with them a little, till the general comes ?' ' That must be as you please,' was our captain's answer. " In a minute after, we were ordered to advance out of the woods, to the open land upon the point. Here we could see the whole force of the enemy, and the whole game the rascally red-coats were playing. There were their three thousand men, all ready to steal our fat cattle, and carry them off, or to shoot us down, if we said ^ Nay.' 14* L 162 THE CAMP-FIRE " Pretty soon we received some volleys of musketry from the regulars, and the cannon from the shipping began to roar. Says I to myself, 'Jack Downing, you '11 never see old Groton again ; for there are regulars enough to eat up your regiment without salt.' But Colonel Putnam rode back and forth, be- fore his regiment, as cool and as calm as though he was only parading us for inspection, while the balls were whistling about our ears in every direction. " At length we commenced ; and we worked mighty fast, boys, I can tell ye ; and, for one regiment, made a pretty considerable noise. That loading and firing, to keep an enemy, five or six times your number, in check, is rayther warm work. Presently, the corporal at my left hand was shot right through the body, and fell at my feet. There he lay, — bleeding, gasp- ing, dying. I had never seen a man killed so near me before, and I must say I felt kind of streaked. Captain Shays stepped forward, close to me. ' John,' says he, ' never mind it ; I will take his place ;' and he was as good as his word. He took the corporal's gun, and began blazing away with it, at the enemy, as cool as if he was beginning a day's work, in the haying season. I always liked that Captain Shays. He was the best captain I have ever served under yet. He is bold to the enemy, and always kind to his men. He stood shoulder to shoulder with me, through the rest of that fight. AT VALLEY FORGE. 163 " I was loading my gun for the twenty-second time, when General Lafayette, with the main body of the infantry, came dashing out of the woods in our rear. Never shall I forget the feeling of that moment, when I first heard the sound of their old continental drums ! ^Now, John,' said Captain Shays, '^we'll give it to them !' " The main body formed at once on our left ; — coming up beautifully into line, all eager for the fray. Lafayette rode along in front of our line. He is a splendid officer ; and never did he so completely fill my eye, as at that moment. Though he is slight — a mere stripling in appearance — his eye is full of fire, and his motions are all alert, and full of soldierly spunk and decision. "As he came near to the colonel of our regiment, he said : — " ' Colonel Putnam, how dare you fire before I arrived ?' " ' Oh," said the colonel, " I thought I would be playing with them, a little.' " Lafayette at that moment seemed full of energy and fire. Turning towards the line, with a loud and distinct voice, he gave the order : — " ' We fire ? — no ! Let the whole line charge bag- onets ! — Rush on, and drive them into the river !' "At these words, the boys seemed to feel the breath of a new life breathed into them. We did 164 THE CAMP-FIRE AT VALLEY FORGE. rush on, with bagonets levelled ; and such a horrible carnage I never saw. "At first, the British charged to meet us; but they couldn't stand against the Yankee boys that day. The reinforcement of fresh troops, added to our regi- ment, who had already shown that we could keep them at bay, seemed to strike a sort of panic into them ; and when our line struck theirs, and we were all engaged, they fairly turned tail, and ran with all their might for the shore, in hopes to escape to their boats. We were not slow in following them, and we drove them pell-mell into the water. Hundreds that escaped our bagonets, were drowned before their boats could take them up ; and, out of the whole three thousand men who landed on the point that morning, full of hope and courage, and hungry for our fat beeves, scarcely fifteen hundred made out to get on board of the vessels ! " Now, boys, you 've heard a great deal of bragging about the British bagonet. Here was a fair stand-up fight, of equal numbers ; and that was the way we walked into British soldiers, with the American bag- onet !" THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITEMARSH. After the disastrous repulse of the American forces, at Germantown, they encamped in a strong position, at a place called Whitemarsh, about fourteen miles from Philadelphia. Here, after the hard service of the campaign, the soldiers were glad to secure a little rest. The winter was coming on, and they suffered beyond description, from the want of clothes and shoes ; even provision and forage were obtained with difficulty ; it being sometimes necessary to pro- cure them by coercive measures, which Washington, with his usual judgment, was loth to make use of. His army had received several reinforcements from the north ; but Washington determined not to meet Sir William Howe, who had also received a reinforce- ment from New York, and was anxious for another battle. He kept the position he had chosen, but sent out light infantry to skirmish with the enemy, who took post at Chestnut Hill, about three miles from the right of the American camp, and manoeuvred, for three days, in the front and on the flanks of our army. (165) 166 THE CAMP-FIRE It is one of these parties of skirmishers who will now engage our attention. The company consisted of about a hundred men, and had been detached from a larger force. Night had overtaken them in the midst of their service ; and it being too dark to pro- ceed any further with safety, they encamped for the night, on the edge of a wood. Great precautions were taken, to prevent the party from being disco- vered by the enemy; but, in consequence of the intense cold, it was necessary to have fires, to keep life in the men. Accordingly, a large fire was made at some distance in the wood, in such a manner, that it could not be seen by persons out of it. The whole party, by cutting down some of the small trees around the fire, made themselves comfortable positions near it, while two of their number were stationed on the edge of the wood, as sentinels. These were to be changed every two hours during the night, in order to give a share of the burden to each. The party around the fire seated themselves, and partook of the scant fare which they had with them ; after which, those who were nearest the fire tried to snatch a little repose. The sentinels warmed themselves thoroughly, and having borrowed some little addition to their poor clothing, which their generous comrades could not refuse, they repaired to their post. They were a singular-looking set of men — these soldiers — with their ragged dress and gaunt forms. Their sufferings AT WHITEMARSH. 167 were expressed too well in their faces ; but, amidst them all, they still had that love for their country, that hatred of tyranny, and that undaunted courage, which, in the end, made them triumph over the best- disciplined and the best-equipped armies. But it is the conversation of the two sentinels which must now interest us. It was a bitter cold night, and the two men paced up and down, over the frozen ground, flapping their arms against their sides, to keep the blood in circula- tion ; their muskets being occasionally laid upon the ground, as a troublesome incumbrance. The night was very dark, and the wind whistled through tlfe branches of the trees, which creaked in harsh accom- paniment. " John," said one of the sentinels to his comrade, at length, "what would you give for a bowl of hot coffee, and a pleasant fire, such a night as this ?" " Phew !" replied John, " do n't talk about it. I 'd almost give victory to the English, in the next battle we have with them ; and that 's about the most valu- able thing I know of, just now." " I was thinkin' how it would go down ; and the very thought of such fare, almost makes me a traitor," continued the other. "But, by the bye, a victory to the English is something we could n't afford to give just now, after that murderous affair at German- town." 168 THE CAxMP-FIRE " Well, Bob/' said John, " if there had been a few more men at Brandywine, and had those that were there been in a little better trim, there would n't have been any affair at Germantown." " Ah !" Bob replied, " there's a Providence in all these things, depend upon it." " You were sick at the time most of the fighting was done ; were n't you ?" enquired John. " Yes ; but I 've heard most of the particular's since," was the reply. " Though we were whipped in the end, there was some tough fightin' done there, mind I tell you," said .Tolin. " You ought to have seen young Lafayette — the French general that's just appointed." " They say he 's not of age yet," returned Bob. " I do n't think it was quite right, to appoint a mere boy a major-general, when there's plenty of older and more experienced men in the army." "Yes," answered John; "but you must recollect what he has sacrificed for the sake of our cause ; be- sides, if you had seen him that day, you would n't think that Congress had gone far wrong, in appointing him a major-general." " Well, if you saw him, let me hear what he did, and I '11 tell you, afterwards, what I think of him," said Bob. " But let us walk a little quicker, for my limbs are getting stiff.' "Well, d'ye see," commenced John, quickening AT WHITEMARSH. 169 his pace, and blowing upon his hands to warm them, " I was with the troops under his command that day. The whole detachment was commanded by General Sullivan. When we got wind of the crossin' of the Brandywine by Cornwallis, and that he had posted himself on the heights there, near Birmingham meetin'-house, we marched to meet him. We had just arrived there, and General Sullivan was formin' his line for battle, when the whole of Cornwallis's force rushed down on us. We fought there for a while like men ; but they soon broke our right, and the lines were thrown into confusion. The men were all retreatin' as fast as they could, when Lafayette, the young French general, rode in among 'em, and with his sword raised, and eyes that looked as if he felt ashamed to see them run, tried to persuade 'em to stop ; but no, the British were on them in a hurry, and they either could n't or would n't. Then, — I '11 never forget it, — that ' boy,' as you called him, showed how much man there was in him. He threw himself from his horse, and rallied some few men, who were ashamed to run, like himself, and took a stand. A few more rallied to support him, and I was among 'em. We fought there like bull-dogs, with the red- coated- bulls, and kept 'em at bay, too. But there was too many for us, and we could n't stand it long. Just then, Lafayette, who was fightin' among the men, like the rest of 'em, got a wound in the leg ; but he 15 170 THE CAMP-FIRE still kept on, and if we had had any support, we 'd have come off with a \dctory. Several of the men ran and caught the brave young general, and bore him away with us, or he would have been taken prisoner." "Well, that was a brave beginnin' for a young officer, that's a fact," said Bob, as his companion paused. "Accordin' to the tales they tell, there was many a brave thing done that day," " Yes," replied John, " I have heard tell, that Mad Anthony fought like a lion. He commanded the division at the ford, where Knyphausen crossed. His one division there fought one-half the British army. But he only fought as he always does. Mad Anthony never gives ground without fightin' for it." " The cause of the loss of that battle was n't in the want of pluck in the men, or of skill in the officers, I believe," remarked Bob. " No," John replied, " it was that infernal lie about the movements of the red-coats, that did it. If Washington's first orders, in regard to crossin' the Brandywine, had been carried out, without payin' any attention to the contradictory news, the battle would have had a different end ; but Cornwallis was left to cross the Brandywine without bein' molested, and then there was no hope for us." "Well," said Bob, with his usual consolatory re- mark, " I suppose it was to be so." AT WHITEMARSH. 171 By this time, the two sentinels were nearly chilled tlirough, and it needed all their exertions, of trotting up and down, blowing their fingers, and flapping their arms, to keep them from freezing. However, the two hours were soon up j and they hastened to the fire as soon as they were relieved. Part of the men were asleep near the fire ; some with their heads in the laps of their comrades, and others on scraps of blan- kets, which they had with them. The rest were seated on logs, in small groups, talking about their adventures and sufierings, to keep themselves awake. One of these groups, close to the fire, our quondam sentinels joined. " Well, John," said a lanky individual, lying on his back on a log, " how did you find the weather, out there ?" "Ugh!" ejaculated John, shivering. "Wait till your turn comes, and you '11 soon find out. It '11 freeze all the little morsel of flesh you have on your bones, off" of 'em in a hurry, I know." "What were you fellows talking about just as we come in ?" said Bob, after a pause. " Oh ! we were tryin' to beat somethin' into Joe Hawkins's head ; but it 's no sort of use. You might as well try to make a block understand," said Lanky Bill, as he was called. " Well, what were you tryin' to beat into his head ?'* asked Bob. 172 THE CAMP-FIRE " Why, we were talkin' about the battle at German- town, the other day, and Joe Hawkins was contendin' that it was Chew's House that caused the defeat, when it 's plain enough that that little stoppage did n't de- cide the battle," said Lanky Bill, with a self-satisfied air. " No doubt," said Bob, " the obstruction offered at Chew's House helped considerably to do the business. But still I think the fog had the most to do with it." " Where were you that day, Bob ?" said John. " You was n't along with the company, I know." " I was sick still," said Bob. " Then you missed a greater fight than you 've ever seen," said John. " You should have been with us. You missed seein' the glorious revenge the boys took for the massacre at Paoli." " Did they do the thing right ?" asked Bob anxiously. Bob had but lately recovered from a long spell of sick- ness. " Yes, indeed," answered John. " but I '11 tell you all about it, just to keep you awake ; for I see your eyes gettin' stupid-looking. " You see, of course, we were with the right wing of the army, under our old commander, Wayne : Sullivan had the command of the whole wing, which was composed of the division of Wayne, the division of Sullivan, and Conway's brigade. We marched to attack Howe's army at the upper end of Germantown, and Sullivan and Conway AT WHITEMARSH. 173 marclied to attack them on the South. The fight be- comiu' pretty general, we advanced on the red-coats with charged bagonets. You see, our boys were a little savage about that butcherin' at Paoli, and I think they could have eaten the Britishers right up. They did n't wait for us ; I have n't the least doubt they got frightened at our savage looks. They give way, but soon formed again ; and then we peppered away at each other like all the world for a spell. The red-coats again gave way, but bein' supported by the grenadiers, returned to the charge. You see, we had the enemy's right wing to encounter, while about two- thirds of our soldiers were too far north to give us any help. However, we made the want of men up in pluck, and stuck to 'em till they broke and run pell- mell ; and then. Bob, you ought to have seen the men. They did n't show any mercy. I was among 'em, as bad as any of the rest. The men seemed really mad ; and when the red-coats would ask for quarter, they 'd scream in their ears to " remember Paoli," and finish them at once. The officers were runnin' about, tryin' to save the poor wretches, but it was n't of much use. Mad Anthony lost his fine roan horse, when we were close to the enemy, and a spent ball struck him in the foot, and one grazed his left hand ; but he stuck to his post on foot, and cheered on the men. The fog and the smoke made the place almost as dark as night ; and I come near shootin' Joe Hawkins in mistake for 15* 174 THE C*AMP-FIRE a red-coat. Several of our men were shot in the same way : you could n't see twenty yards from you. We pushed on, however, and took possession of their whole camp ; but here comes the worst of the story, and I 'd just as leave not tell it." " Oh ! finish your story, John," said Lanky Bill, " Bob knows we were defeated, so let him hear how it was." " Well, it 's a disagreeable tiding to be talkin' about retreatin' after such a fight as we made there ; but I may as well finish my story. You see we were in possession of the camp of the red-coats, when a large body of men appeared on our left flank. The fog bein' so thick, of course we could n't tell whether they were our own troops or the enemy. The men thought they were red-coats, and would fall back, in sjjite of all the officers could do. After we had retreated about two miles, we found out that they were our own people, who were comin' up to attack the right wing of the enemy. After the fog cleared away, Howe followed us with a large body of foot and light horse, and Mad Anthony, who was in the rear of the army pickin' up stragglers, thinkin' it about as well to fight as run, drew us up in line of battle, and waited till the enemy come up. We had just a chance to throw a few cannon-shot into 'em, when the cowardly rascals run. They may glorify as much as they please about our loss and repulse, but it was only the weather that AT WHITEMARSH. 175 kept them from gettin' as complete a defeat as they ever had." " How was that affair at Chew's house ?" asked Bob, interested. " Oh, that was with the other division ; we had nothing to do with that," replied John. " Well," continued Bob, " from all that I can hear about it, it was an ill-advised piece of business. But it 's not for us to criticise the doin's of our superiors ; I suppose that we were to be defeated, and that's enough." As Bob concluded this usual remark, he stretched himself out in front of the fire, and there was a silence of about half an hour. At the expiration of that time, John, who had been looking in the fire very intently all the while, musing on home and its comforts, we suppose, raised his head, to see if his companions were asleep. Lanky Bill and Joe Haw- kins, were still awake, but Bob was snoring melo- diously, in the arms of Morpheus. " Joe," said John, " give us a song, to keep up our spirits ; won't you ?" " Oh, I 'm not in the humor of singin' now," replied Joe. "Besides, I've got a cold, and my voice is hoarse." " That 's the usual prelude of all good singers," re- turned John. "Come, sing us something; never mind the hoarseness ; and as for your humor, people 176 THE CAMP-FIRE must n't wait till they get in a good humor, or else there 'd be very little of it. Make your humor good." Those of the party who were awake, joined in the call for a song ; and Joe at last consented, and sang the following, to a sort of music like the chanting of the prose psalms, in cathedrals : — Since you all will have singing, and won't be said nay, I cannot refuse, when you so beg and pray; So, I'll sing you a song, — as a body may say, 'Tis of the king's regulars, who ne'er ran away. the old soldiers of the king, and the king's own regulars. At Prestonpans we met with some rebels one day, We marshall'd ourselves all in comely array; Our hearts were aU stout, and bid our legs stay, But our feet were wrong-headed, and took us away. the old soldiers, &c. At Falkirk we resolved to be braver, And recover some credit by better behaviour; We would not acknowledge feet had done us any favour, So feet swore they would stand, but — legs ran, however. the old soldiers, «&c. No troops perform better than we at reviews, We march and we wheel, and whatever you choose ; George would see how we fight, and we never refuse, There we all fight with courage — you may see't in the News. the old soldiers, &c. To Monongahela, with fifes and with drums. We march'd in fine order, with cannon and bombs ; AT WHITE MARSH. 177 That great expedition cost infinite sums, But a few irregulars cut us all into crumbs. the old soldiers, &c. It was not fair to shoot at us from behind trees : If they had stood open, as they ought, before our great guns, we should have beat 'em with ease ; They may fight with one another that way, if they please, But it is not regular to stand, and fight with such rascals as these. the old soldiers, &c. At Fort G-eorge and Oswego, to our great reputation, We show'd our vast skill in fortification; The French fired three guns ; of the fourth they had no occasion ; For we gave up those forts, — not through fear, but — mere persuasion. the old soldiers, &c. To Ticonderoga we went in a passion. Swearing to be revenged on the whole French nation ; But we soon turn'd tail without hesitation, Because they fought behind trees, — which is not the regular fashion. the old soldiers, &c. Lord Loudon, he was a regular general, they say ; With a great regular army he went his way, Against Louisburgh, to make it his prey. But return 'd — without seeing it, — for he did not feel bold that day. the old soldiers, &c. Grown proud at reviews, great G-eorge had no rest ; Each grandsire, he had heard, a rebellion suppress'd : He wish'd a rebellion, look'd round and saw none. So resolved a rebellion to make — of his own. the old soldierS; &c. M 178 THE CAMP-FIRE The Yankees he bravely pitch'd on, because he thought they would n't fight, And so he sent us over to take away their right ; But lest they should spoil our review-clothes, he ciied braver and louder ; For God's sake, brother kings, don't sell the cowards — any powder! the old soldiers, &c. Our general with his council of war did advise How at Lexington we might the Yankees surprise ; We march'd and remarch'd, all surprised at being beat; And so our wise general's plan of sm'prise was complete. the old soldiers, &c. For fifteen miles they follow'd and pelted us : we scarce had time to pull a trigger j But did you ever know a retreat perform'd with more vigor ? For we did it in two hours, which saved us from perdition ; 'T was not in going out, but in returning, consisted our expedition. the old soldiers, &c. Says our general, " We were forced to take to our arms in our own defence :" (For arms read legs, and it wiU be both truth and sense :) " Lord Percy, (says he,) I must say something of him in civility, And that is — I can never enough praise him for his great agility." the old soldiers, &c. Of their firing from behind fences he makes a great pother : Every fence has two sides ; they made use of one, and we only forgot to use the other : That we tm'n'd our backs and ran away so fast, do n't let that dis- grace us ; AT WHITEMARSH. 179 'T was only to make good what Sandwich said, that the Yankees could not face us. the old soldiers, &c. As they could not get before us, how could they look us in the face ? We took care they should n't, by scampering away apace. That they had not much to brag of, is a very plain case ; For if they beat us in the fight, we beat them in the race. the old soldiers, Sk. The song was lengthy, and the manner in which it was sung, made it seem twice as long. The rest of the party couldn't join in the chorus, as it would have made too much noise, which might have been taken advantage of by some straggling party of the enemy, and have led to their surprise. " Where did you get that song from, Joe ?" asked Lanky Bill ; " and where on airth did you come across the chune ?" " Oh, I heard it in Philadelphia, and learned it just to amuse myself." The whole party agreed that the words of the song were well enough, but voted the tune a regular bore. This was but natural ; as they no doubt expected to hear something livelier. All hands were sinking into listlessness again, except those whose business it was to keep up the fire, when the two sentries rushed into the midst of them, with the intelligence that they had discovered a small party of the British approach- ing, who were evidently unconscious of being in the vicinity of the encampment, and had probably wan- 180 THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITEMARSH. dered from some detached jDarty of the enemy, till night had overtaken them. All the sleepers instantly sprang to their feet, and some busied themselves in covering the fire, while all secured their arms, to await the orders of the captain. The moon had risen in the meanwhile ; which circumstance, it was, that gave the sentries an opportunity of seeing the enemy as they approached. The whole party of Americans posted themselves near the edge of the wood ; but so separated, as to let the other party pass between them, when they would have them in a trap. On they came, unsuspecting ; their advanced guard beat- ing about negligently, till, without a forethought of the consequences, they were fairly in the wood, when they were instantly surrounded. A voice called out, " Surrender, or you die !" which staggered the British for awhile ; but concluding that it was a trick of a few men, they did not comply. A volley of musketry brought them to their senses ; and the leader of the party, seeing the dangerous position they occupied, called out that he surrendered. The Americans in- stantly appeared from all sides; thus showing the enemy that they had been completely surrounded. Several of them had been wounded, but none killed, by the volley of musketry sent among them. The prisoners were all secured, and no further incident occurred till morning, when they were all marched to the American camp, at Whitemarsh. THE CAMP-FIRE AT WHITE PLAINS. The continental troops encamped at White Plains, soon after the battle of Monmouth. There they re- mained till very late in November, when the severity of the weather forced them to go into winter quarters at Middle Brook, in Jersey. The battle of Monmouth had served greatly to inspirit the Americans, while the British had reaped no advantage from the cam- paign, and were, therefore, as far from gaining their object as ever. White Plains is the place where Washington encamped in October of 1776, after the evacuation of New York. The camp was on elevated ground, defended in front by two lines of intrench- ments, nearly parallel to each other, and between four and five hundred yards apart. The right wing rested on the Brunx, which, by making a short bend, encom- passed the flank and part of the rear. The left wing reached to a pond, or small lake, of some extent, by which it was effectually secured. Here the army was encamped from an early day in July to a late one in autumn of the year 1778. 16 (181) 182 THE CAMP-FIRE It was about the middle of November. The night was cold and dark ; and there was a prospect of snow. The soldiers were in their tents, and no sound dis- turbed the hovering stillness of the time, save the howling of the frost-burdened wind, and the slow, steady pacing of the sentinels. The severity of the weather visited the men while still occupying their canvass tents, and they were forced to endure it as well as they could. Fires were blazing in every tent, but they could not more than keep the men from freezing. Under one of these uncomfortable coverings four men were sitting round the fire, so close as to be very nearly scorched by it ; but close as they could get, every time the wind would shake the tent in its sweeping through the encampment, a shudder would follow from the men ; and they would try to get closer still to the fire. The blaze made the tent look cheer- ful, however, whether it felt so or not. " Luke," said one of the men, " if it 's going to be as cold as this all night, there 's no sleep for us, that 's certain." " Oh ! I do n't care about the sleep so much ; it 's so cold it makes one shiver all over when setting as close on to the fire as you can get," replied Luke. " Ugh !" said an individual, known by the name of Zephaniah, " Its cold enough to freeze a feller into stone ; or a pound of butter into a brickbat." " Well, I care about sleeping," said the man who AT WHITE PLAINS. 183 had spoken first, " I had a very little bit of a nap last night." " You 're a sleepy concern, anyhow. You 're almost asleep when you 're on duty," said another of the men who had not yet spoken. " I can 't help my nature, Jim," replied the lover of Morpheus, "but the last part of your assertion is as far from the truth as you generally are." " Keep yourself moving, Dick," said Luke, " there 's nothing like action for getting clear of drowsiness. I Ve seen men use themselves to going without sleep for three or four days at a time, and not feel any the worse for it; but you're always moping round the fire. I do n't wonder you 're sleepy." " There 's not much danger of my goin' to sleep to- night, anyhow," said Dick, " so, if either of you have got a yarn to tell, or a song to sing, you can go on with it. Luke, you 're as good as any body I know, for doin' either." "Yes," said Zephaniah, "he's got a voice like a night 'gale, and can talk as fast and as good as a min- ister on a Sunday mornin'. So, drive on Luke." " Hold on," said Luke. " you must do a little your- selves. You must n't expect me to do all the labor. Jim, there, can sing. Let him sing a song first, and then I '11 go on with my story." " What shall I sing ?" asked Jim. " Oh, anything, so it 's a song. ' Rule Columbia,' 184 THE CAMP-FIRE •^ Liberty Tree/ or ' The American Star.' Or, if you do n't know any of them, anything else will do," said Luke. " Well," said Jim, " I '11 try ' Liberty Tree' ; that 's a favorite song of mine." "And of mine, tu," said Zephaniah." Clear your pipe, and try to du it as it ought to be done." Jim was a little hoarse from cold, but had a good, strong, musical voice. The song he sang was a great favourite in those days, and is still occasionally sung. It was written by Thomas Paine, the author of the ' Eights of Man," in 1775. It is as follows : — In a chariot of light from the regions of day, The goddess of Liberty came; Ten thousand celestials directed the way, And hither conducted the dame. A fair budding branch from the gardens above, Where millions with millions agree, She brought in her hand, as a pledge of her love, And the plant she named Liberty Tree. The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground, Like a native it flourish'd and bore; The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, To seek out this peaceable shore. Unmindful of names or distinctions they came. For freemen like brothers agree; With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, And their temple was Liberty Tree. AT WHITE PLAINS. 185 Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, Their bread in contentment they ate, Unvexed with the troubles of silver and gold, The cares of the grand and the great. With timber and tar they old England supplied. And supported her power on the sea; Her battles they fought, without getting a groat. For the honour of Liberty Tree. But hear, oh, ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane,) How all the tjTaunical powers. King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain. To cut down this guardian of ours ! From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms ! Through the land let the sound of it flee; Let the far and the near all unite, with a cheer. In defence of our Liberty Tree. "That's a song I allers liked," said Zephaniah, when Jim had concluded. " The words of the song are excellent," said Luke. "They breathe the pure spirit of patriotism. We endure a good deal in defence of " our Liberty Tree." "Yes," said Zephaniah, "I wish it was big and strong enough to take care of itself" " Ah !" said Luke, " its roots will have to strike deep in the soil, and it will have to grow to be a large trunk, to make it strong enough to take care of itself It's a sort of tree that needs a good deal of attention. The worms attack it, and try to destroy it, and the winds do their best to level it with the ground." 18* 186 THE CAMP-FIRE " I hope we '11 be able to take care of it," said Jim. "Amen," added Luke. " But you promised to tell us some sort of a story, Luke, when Jim sang the song. Let 's have it, and make it as long as you can, or we '11 run out of talk," said Dick. " Never fear, Dick," said Zephaniah, " Luke 's a rnine that never fails to yield somethin', whether it 's real gold or not. But go on, Luke." " Well, men, I do n't care about inventing any stories to amuse you, just now. I '11 tell you some- thing real. I was with the army of General Gates that captured Burgoyne, and, if you 're willing, that shall be the subject of my narrative. You 've heard, I suppose, all the principal movements that brought about the surrender, and that there was two battles fought, and so on ; but I think I can amuse you by telling you about some incidents that came under my knowledge while I was there, either by seeing or hear- ing of them," said Luke. " That 's a part of this war that I know least about," said Zephaniah. " If you can give us an inkling of how things went on there, you '11 do us a favor." " You must n't expect me to give you all the details of everything that occurred at Saratoga. All I shall ■do will be to give you an idea to whom we are most indebted for the victory, and how the men acted, and so on," said Luke. *> .Mk AT WHITE PLAINS. 187 " Enough said," struck in Dick ; " go on." "Well, I was with Livingston's brigade," began Luke. " James Livingston's it was, not Henry's. On the 19 th of September, the day of the first battle, our regiment, with Learned's brigade, and three Massachu- setts regiments, formed the centre of the army, and our position was on a high plain. Our commander, General Gates, had determined to maintain a defensive position, and we accordingly waited for the approach of the enemy. The morning was clear and calm, and everything was white with hoar-frost. We were so near the British that we could hear their reveille ; and we could see, through the openings in the wood, the glitter of bayonets and sabres, and scarlet uniforms moving about. About ten o'clock we knew that the whole British force was in motion, yet we were still in our position on the plain. About noon, at the suggestion of General Arnold, Morgan's light horse, and Dearborn's light infantry, were sent out, and they made a vigorous attack on the Canadians and Indians who swarmed upon the hills. The furious charge of Morgan broke the enemy ; but his men became scat- tered in the wood, and a reinforcement of the British coming up, drove them back in their turn. I could see only a part of this, from where I was standing ; but I was told the rest, and I '11 tell it to you as if I saw it myself. Well, as I said, the detachment of Morgan was broken, and a captain, a lieutenant, and 188 THE CAMP-FIRE some privates, fell into the hands of the British. For a moment, Morgan found himself alone, and he thought his band of sharp-shooters was ruined; but he blew his loud signal-whistle, and his brave boys soon gathered round him. He charged again, and was joined by Dearborn, Cilley, and Scammel." " That 's a great band — them sharp-shooters of Morgan's," said Zephaniah. " I 've got a notion of j'inin' 'em, if I can get a chance. It's a style o' fightin' I like. Besides, Morgan's one of the never- fails." " Yes," said Luke, " you may well say that ; Mor- gan is a never-fail. You may always depend upon him and his band showing the toughest kind of fight- ing. He dashes on the foe with such resistless force, too, after the rifles of his men have done their work. But to return to my story. Both parties fought with great bravery ; and, in the end, each retired within their lines. General Frazer, who commanded a por- tion of the right wing of the enemy, then made an attempt to turn our left flank ; and Arnold resolved to make a similar attempt on Frazer. He put him- self at the head of our division, and attempted to cut off General Frazer from the main army. We' ad- vanced through a dense forest, and over the roughest kind of ground. It appeared that neither party could make out what the manoeuvres of the other were for, till we came upon each other suddenly, on AT WHITE PLAINS. 189 the level ground near Mill Creek, I think they call it. It was a short distance from a cottage. Arnold was at the head of our men, and he fell upon the foe with the fury of a lion, I was near him, with the troops in advance, and I do n't think I ever saw a man dis- play such fire and such bravery in action. He shouted at the highest pitch of his voice, to cheer us on ; and we dashed upon the foe with the force of a hurricane ; but the numbers of the enemy were overwhelming, and they kept their ground. We had to give way for awhile ; but Arnold rallied the troops, and we re- ceived a reinforcement of four regiments. Then we went to the work again. We pushed them so hard, that they began to give way and to fall into confusion ; when General Philips appeared upon the ground, with some artillery, to reinforce the British troops. The victory seemed to be ours, just before his arrival, but then we had to fall back to our line. It was then about three o'clock. The desperate contest ceased for awhile, for both parties wanted breath. I was almost worn out. I had been in the van, where the hardest fighting had been done, and I was bespattered with blood ; — not my own, but from my comrades and the troops of the enemy. I sat down on the ground, to rest a little, before I should be called to the contest again. We were just beyond musket-shot from the enemy ; and between us was a thick wood, and a narrow clearing. We kept the deepest silence, and 190 THE CAMP-FIRE could hear the officers of the enemy give their orders along the lines. They broke the short peace, by opening a hot fire from a large battery ; but it did very little damage to us. We did n't answer them, but still kept silence. Then we saw their infantry coming across the open plain, with their steady tread, and we knew" they were going to try the bayonet. We kept close behind our entrenchments, till they fired a volley, anci came on to the charge, when we sprang upon them like tigers that had been crouching to wait for their prey. We drove them back across the clearing; and then followed as bloody and as hard-fought a battle as ever these States saw. The enemy were reinforced, and we were obliged to give way ; and then we advanced with such force, that they were compelled to fall back ; and so it continued for three hours. The way men were maimed by the shot, and mangled by the bayonet, was most horrible. I received a bayonet-wound in the leg ; but it did n't prevent me from keeping the field. I knew every man was wanted there. The killed and wounded of both armies were lying together. I hel23ed to take the cannon of the enemy, two or three times ; but in the end we had to leave them, having no horses to drag them away. The battle continued in this man- ner till dark. Our regiment, with most of the army, retired to our lines ; but some of our troops remained on the ground, and skirmished till eleven o'clock at AT WHITE PLAINS. 191 night. I never was so worn down in my life before. I could not sleep, I was so tired." " I should think so," said Dick. Four hours' hard fighting is enough to wear the stoutest men out." " Was Arnold in the whole of the battle ?" asked Zephaniah. " Yes, through the whole four hours' contest ; ex- posing himself to all the dangers of the common soldier," replied Luke. "1 heard that General Burgoyne was with the army engaged durin' the battle," said Jim. " Yes, I saw him two or three times, myself. He came near being shot, once. The ball that was in- tended for him, struck a captain in the arm. Indeed, it was generally reported that he had been killed," was the reply. " What was the number engaged on both sides ? — did you hear ?" asked Dick. " Yes," replied Luke. " But, before I tell you, put a little more wood on the fire. I 'm shivering all the time." The request was complied with, and Luke went on to answer the question. "The force that the British had engaged in the action, numbered about three thousand men. Ours, about two thousand five hundred." " Very nearly matched," said Zephaniah. " Yes ; but the advantage was on their side. They claimed the victory, too; but I can't see how that 192 THE CAMP-FIRE could be. We acted on the defensive. They were the assailants. Now, if we kept our ground, they must have failed in the object of their attack ; and we were victorious. The mere possession of the ground where the action was fought, was nothing. We retired within our- lines, in order to rest more securely. But to go on with my story. I didn't sleep much that night, my leg pained so severely, though I had had the wound dressed. If Burgoyne had attacked us the next morning, he would have made a sure thing of it ; for it was discovered that we had only one round of cartridge left. But for an arrival of some provisions, on the 20th, we should have been put on short allowance, too. The British did n't seem disposed to renew the fight, though they had slept on the field of battle j and they retired to their camp on the river flats. Arnold wanted to commence the battle early in the morning ; but we had to wait for powder and bullets to come from Albany, and that put a barrier to anything of the kind. Well, both parties set about strengthening their works. We lay within cannon-shot of the British, from the 20th of September to the 7th of October. We had skirmishes with small parties of them every day ; for the pickets were so near each other, they could n't help taking an occasional skir- mish. Besides, when we would send out foraging parties, they would often come across a party of the AT WHITE PLAINS. 193 enemy, out on the same business; and, of course, there would be a fight. I was with one of these foraging parties, when they met a party of British at the same place where they intended to get some pro- visions. I think there was about fifty of us in the company, and we were under the command of Ser- geant Horton. We proceeded to a farm about two miles from the camp, and were marching up to the house, before we caught sight of the red coats of the enemy. It appeared that they discovered us about the same time, and began to form, to wait for our approach. They drew up in front of the house. I guess they were about as many as our party num- bered. We halted as soon as we saw them forming, and drew up in a line for attack ; for we were all anxious to give them a specimen of what our boys could do. Well, as soon as we could get everything prepared, we didn't stop to enquire whether there was any more of the red-coats about than what we saw drawn up, but rushed on to the attack ; shouting and whooping as loud as possible. They waited till we got within musket-shot, and then poured into us their fire, which we returned with a pretty good effect — several of the enemy falling, to my know- ledge. Two or three of our party were wounded, but none killed. We pressed on to the attack, with our bayonets, and they waited steadily to receive us ; and then came a fierce contest, with that deadly weapon. 17 N 194 THE CAMP-FIRE Clashing against each other, the bayonets went ; and gashes were given and received. They stood the onset steadily, for awhile ; but seeing that we were resolved to make too desperate a fight, they broke, and we pursued them for some distance from the house. We wounded two, and took them prisoners, and then returned to the house. As we were making arrangements with the owner of the farm, for some provisions, some of our men observed th^ approach of a larger party of the enemy ; and we secured all the provisions we could lay hands on, and hurried away from the house. I don't think we had got away more than a hundred yards, when the party of British came round the house, in pursuit of us. You see, they had come towards the farm-house from the side opposite to the one from which our party came. We immediately turned and gave them a volley, and then got away just as fast as our legs would carry us. We held on to the provisions till we got into the wood where we had left our horses, and then our flight became easier. The British party were afraid to pursue us any farther, then ; because there were so many diflferent parties and detachments from both armies out, that the greatest care was necessary to keep from being surprised, or from falling in with larger parties than they could stand against." " Well," said Zephaniah, " I suppose you got safe into camp with your provisions ?" AT WHITE PLAINS. 195 "Oh, yes," replied Luke, "we arrived safely in camp, without further molestation. But I forgot to tell you that we had received a reinforcement of two thousand New England troops, under General Lin- coln, just before that affair of the foraging party. General Gates gave up the command of the right wing to him, and took command of the left ; — that is, the one that had fought the battle, and which our regiment belonged to. Some say that Gates was jealous of the laurels Arnold had won, and wanted to have a share of the glory himself I do n't know how that was ; but I know that Arnold was deprived of his command, and stayed with the army merely that his reputation might not suffer by his leaving when another battle was hourly expected." " I suppose Gates treated Arnold as meanly as he did General Schuyler, when Schuyler was deprived of his command of the northern army," said Zepha- niah. "I've heard he acted a close and narrow- hearted part towards Schuyler." "It may be true," replied Luke. "General Gates never stood very high in my estimation. But to re- turn to my narrative. Our army increased in num- bers very fast, after the battle of Stillwater, as the fight of the 19th of September is called. Troops came in from all parts of the surrounding country ; and we were thus enabled to send out small detach- ments to harass the enemy, without weakening our 196 THE CAMP-FIRE lines, or endangering the safety of the camp. About three days after the battle, we were joined by about a hundred and fifty Indians, belonging to the Mo- hawks, Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and some other tribes. They were a fine, lusty set of men, and they looked as if they would be a valuable aid to us. The In- dians of Burgoyne's array began to desert him about the same time. You see, they expectedJ;o get plenty of scalps and plunder ; but being mistaken, and the hunting season coming on, they wanted to go and provide for their wives and children. This, and the want of provisions, put Burgoyne into a perilous con- dition. Our pickets and skirmishing detachments were so numerous, that he could n't even get a letter to Clinton for some days. Not an ounce of provisions, nor a man, was allowed to get to him from any quar- ter; and about the first of October, T heard, he put his troops on short allowance. He was compelled to fight or fly. To fly was impossible, for we had every passage guarded ; and so he resolved to fight." " He was compelled to fight or surrender, then," said Zephaniah ; " and he chose to fight ?" " Yes, exactly," replied Luke. '•' British pride couldn't think of surrendering a finely-equipped army, like Burgoyne's, to an army principally com- posed of raw troops, like ours, without having a hard fight. Well, the morning of the 7th of October came. General Gates had ordered a detachment of three AT WHITE PLAINS. 197 hundred men, under the command of Colonel Brooks, to gain the rear of the enemy, and fall upon his out- posts; and Colonel Brooks was at head-quarters, receiving his instructions, when a sergeant brought intelligence of the advance of a large body of the enemy, under Burgoyne, towards our left. The order to Brooks was revoked, and the general sent out an aid, to ascertain the exact position and probable in- tentions of the enemy. Before I heard what intelli- gence was brought, news came that the Indians and Canadians had attacked our pickets, near Mill Creek. I soon caught sight of the pickets retreating; and they were pursued by the Canadians and Indians, and a detachment of grenadiers, to within musket- shot of our lines. Then there was a hot fight for about half an hour, at the breastwork, till Morgan, with his riflemen and a corps of infantry, charged on the enemy with such effect, that they were thrown into confusion, and driven to the British line, which was forming on a newly-cleared field." " Jim, put more wood on the fire ; will you ? you've got it handy. I suppose we '11 have to sit here and talk all night, if it 's goin' to be this cold," said Dick, crowding as close to the fire as possible. " I 'm pretty certain I shall be up all night," said Jim ; " and I want to hear the rest that Luke has to tell about Saratoga." Blankets were brought into use, in which the men 17* 198 THE CAMP-FIRE wrapped themselves, and prepared to make them- selves as comfortable as circumstances would admit, and pass the night in talking, or listening to Luke's narrative of the events which led to the capture of Burgoyne. " Now, Luke," said Zephaniah, after they had all got fixed a little more comfortable, " we 're ready to hear the rest of the story, as soon as you 're ready to give it." "Always ready," said Luke. "It was about two o'clock, I think ; about the same time the bloodiest fight of the 19 th commenced. Morgan had been sent, with his riflemen and other troops, amounting to fif- teen hundred men, to fall upon the flanking party of General Frazer at the same time when the attack should be made on the British left. Our brigade, under General Poor, was to make the attack on the British left, aided by a portion of Learned's brigade. Well, at the order being given, we marched steadily up the slope of the hill on which the British artillery and grenadiers were posted. We had received orders not to fire until after the first discharge from the enemy ; and we were true to them. We were march- ing up to the cannon's mouths, amid an awful silence, when suddenly they let their grape-shot and musket- balls fly ; and they made great havoc in the branches of the trees above our heads, but did n't hurt us any of account. This was our signal. We sprang for- AT WHITE PLAINS. 199 ward with a loud shout, and poured our fire, in rapid volleys, into the British on the hill, and opened right and left, to get the cover of the trees, so that the artillery could n't rake us. The fight soon became bloody. "We rushed up to the mouths of the cannon, and struggled with the enemy among the carriages of the field-pieces. They fought as desperately as we did. They knew how much depended on that day's work. For a long time, the scale seemed almost equal. We took their cannon several times ; and as often did they retake them. One piece I saw taken five times; but at last it remained with us, as th£ British fell back. Colonel Cilley, who had been fighting at the head of his troops, leaped on the cap- tured piece and waved his sword; Medicating,' he said, ^ the piece to the American cause.' He turned the cannon's muzzle to the enemy, and we opened a fire on them with their own ammunition. This seemed to give our men stronger sinews and fiercer courage. We went into them with more force than ever, but the fight was obstinate on their part. They were brave and skilful. At last. Major Ackland, the foremost man in the fight, on their part, was severely wounded, and Major Williams was taken prisoner; and then the grenadiers and artillery-men fled in con- fusion, and left the field in possession of the Ame- rican troops. About the time of our attack on the British left, Morgan, with his corps, rushed down the 200 THE CAMP-FIRE hills that skirted the flanking party of Frazer, in advance of the enemy's right, and opened on them such a storm of well-aimed bullets, that they were driven hastily back to their lines. Then, with the speed of the wind, Morgan wheeled, and fell upon the British right flank with such force, that their ranks were at once thrown into confusion. It seemed as if the attack in that manner came upon the British unexpectedly. While they were in confusion from Morgan's attack, Major Dearborn fell upon them in front, with some fresh troops. They broke and fled iga the greatest terror, but were ralhed by the Earl of Balcarras, and again brought up to the work. These shocks upon the right and left shook the British camp, but it still stood firm. While we were waiting on the hill where we had beaten the grena- diers and artillery-men that formed the right of the enemy, I saw a horseman coming towards us, from our lines, at full speed. He rode a large brown horse, and seemed flying as if pursued. As he neared us, we discovered that it was the gallant Arnold ; and a loud hurrah went up from our brigade. He put him- self at the head of three regiments of Learned's brigade, ours among the number, and led us against the British centre. How soldiers will fight under a leader in whom they have confidence ! Arnold rushed into the thickest of the fight, with the fury of a mad- man, or rode along the lines, brandishing his broad- AT WHITE PLAINS. 201 sword above his head and giving his orders. I saw an officer on horseback, who seemed to be trying to get to speak to Arnold ; but after following him about for half an hour, he gave up the chase. I afterwards learned that the officer was Major Armstrong, and that he had been sent to order Arnold back from the field. The Hessians, who formed the greater part of the centre of the enemy, received our first assault with firmness, and stood their ground bravely ; but on the second charge, when Arnold at our head dashed furiously in among them, they broke, and fled in the greatest dismay. Then the battle became general along the whole line. It was awful. Amidst the rain of bullets, the flames and smoke, Arnold could be seen, with his trumpet voice animating the men, as he dashed about from one part of the field to another; and Morgan, too, was hardly less active. On the part of the British, General Frazer was the ruling spirit. \Yhen the ranks gave way, he put them in order again ; when their lines began to waver, he infused some of his own courage into them. He was mounted on a splendid gray gelding, and dressed in the full uniform of a field-officer; he was a fine aim for our marksmen. It was evident that the fate of the day rested on him, and Arnold suggested to Morgan the importance of his death. Morgan called a file of his best men around him, and pointing to General Frazer, told them that victory depended on 202 THE CAMP-FIRE him, and that though he admired him for his bravery, he must die ; and told them to take their station in a clump of bushes near by, and do their duty. About five minutes afterwards, Frazer fell, mortally wounded, and was borne off the field." " That seems like a cold-blooded murder," said Jim. " But I think Morgan done right. If it had been a poor private like ourselves, there would n't have been anybody to say anything about whether it was right or not ; but because it was a general, we hear people censure Morgan." " No doubt," remarked Luke, " the death of Gen- eral Frazer saved a great deal of slaughter ; for if he had lived through the action, the victory would have been doubtful, at least. His bravery would have animated the British to make a more desperate re- sistance, and then the slaughter on both sides would have been more horrible than it was. He was a splendid officer, though he was fighting on the wrong side of the question." " I suppose his death put a sort of panic into the enemy," said Zephaniah. "Yes; as soon as Frazer fell, they began to get dismayed," replied Luke ; " and just then three thou- sand New York troops, under General Tenbroeck, made their appearance. That completed their dis- may ; and the whole line broke and fled within the entrenchments of their camp. We pursued them up AT WHITE PLAINS. 203 to their very entrenchments, in the face of a furious storm of grape-shot and musket-balls, and assaulted their works vigorously, without the aid of artillery. Arnold took a part of the brigades of Patterson and Glover, and assaulted the works occu^Died by the British light infantry, under the Earl of Balcarras, and drove the enemy from a strong abattis, at the point of the bayonet. There he tried to force his way into the enemy's camp ; but he was obliged to abandon the attempt. Our brigade was advancing to make an assault on the works at an opening in the abattis, between the light infantry and the German right flank defence, under Colonel Breyman, when we saw Arnold dashing through the cross-fire of the two armies, and coming towards us. He placed him- self at our head, and we moved on rapidly to the attack. He directed Brook's regiment to assault a redoubt which was on one side of the opening, while the remainder of the brigade fell upon the front. The battle there was fierce and bloody; but the enemy at last gave way, and left the Germans com- pletely exposed. At that moment, Arnold galloped to the left, where we were, and ordered our regiment and Weston's, and Morgan's riflemen, to advance and make a general assault. He put himself at the head of Brook's regiment, and attacked the German works. Having found the sally-port, he rushed within the enemy's entrenchments ; and the Germans, who had 204 THE CAMP-FIRE seen him on his steed, in the thickest of the fight, for more than two hours, fled terrified ; hut, as they fled, they fired a volley, which killed Arnold's horse, and wounded the general himself, in the same leg in which he was w^ounded at Quebec. There, as I was told. Major Armstrong overtook him, and delivered Gates's order, to return to camp, fearing he ^ might do some rash thing !' " " It was a rash thing, no doubt, in the eye of Gates," said Zephaniah ; " but it 's the right sort o' thing to lead troops to victory " " Where was General Gates, all the time the battle was going on ?" asked Dick. " Why, in the camp, while Burgoyne was in the field all day," was the reply. " He issued his orders from his quarters, when he should have been on the field to inspirit his troops. It was about twilight when Arnold was wounded, and conveyed from the field by Major Armstrong and a sergeant. The Ger- mans, finding the assault general, threw down their arms, and retreated to the interior of the camp, leaving their commander. Colonel Breyman, mortally wounded. The British camjD was thus left exposed at a strong point. Burgoyne attempted to rally the dismayed Germans; but they couldn't be brought into action again. Both sides were worn out with the exertions of the day; and as the darkness in- creased, the contest ended, and everything was hushed AT WHITE PLAINS. 205 but the groans of the wounded, the occasional word of command, and the heavy tread of retiring columns, seeking for a place of repose. We kept the field till about midnight, when we were relieved by the divi- sion of General Lincoln, which had remained in camp during the action. We returned to camp to enjoy a little rest after such a day's work ; and, I tell you, I felt a sort of thankfulness, that I was permitted to return to quarters once more. I slept soundly till the next morning. When I awoke, at the reveille, I heard that Burgoyne had evacuated his camp, and removed the whole of his army, artillery, and bag- gage, about a mile from his former position. We did n't go out of the camp that day ; but news would come in, every now and then, of a skirmish between some of Lincoln's troops and the enemy ; we also learned that the general had taken possession of the British camp, and was wounded in the leg. As the news that the British had retreated soon spread over the surrounding country, the people came flocking into camp, to join in the general joy, and to ascertain whether any of their relatives and friends were among the billed and wounded." " What was your loss in the whole day's battle ?" enquired Zephaniah. "About a hundred and fifty, killed and wounded. Arnold was the only commissioned ofiicer who re- ceived a wound." 18 206 THE CAMP-FIRE "What was the loss of the British?" Zephaniah next enquired, wishing to know all the particulars, and fearful, also, that the narrative was near its close. " The enemy lost about seven hundred, in killed, wounded, and prisoners. Among their officers who were killed, was the gallant Frazer, Sir Francis Clarke, Burgoyne's aid-de-camp, who died at the head-quarters of Gates, Colonel Breyman, of the German corps, and Lieutenant Reynell. We took Major Ackland and Major Williams, prisoners. Bur- goyne had several very narrow escapes. One ball passed through his hat, and another through his coat." " Well, I suppose you are goin' to tell us all about the surrender ; ain't you ?" enquired Jim, anxiously, as Luke paused. " Oh, yes ; I '11 tell you about that, in its proper time. I '11 go on from where I left off. We kept up a constant cannonading on the 8th of October, the day after the battle, principally directed against a place called '• the great redoubt,' on a hill near the British camp. I .afterwards learned that General Frazer had died that morning, and that lie requested to be buried on the hill, in the great redoubt, at six o'clock in the evening. At the appointed time, the request was complied with, while our cannon-balls were flying around the grave, and ploughing up the hill. This redoubt was within sight of both armies. .2k AT WHITE PLAINS. 207 and all eyes were directed towards it. We had mis- taken the character of the procession, and kept up our cannonading ; but as soon as we were informed that it was a funeral, paying the last tribute of re- spect to General Frazer, orders were given to cease firing with balls, and to render military honors to the fallen brave. While the chaplain was repeating the service, a single cannon was fired at regular intervals, by our troops; and it seemed to boom mournfully among the hills." " That was a pleasing incident," said Zephaniah. " Two hostile armies doing homage to the same brave man, is a rare sight." " It shows that the brave know how to honor the brave, no matter if among the foe," replied Luke. "Both of the hostile armies could testify to the bravery and skill of General Frazer. We had thought him their best officer in battle, and his life paid for that reputation. The British knew that without him they would have fared far worse than they did. Well, to continue my story. On the night of the 8th, it rained; — the next morning, we received intelli- gence that the whole British army had retreated from their position at Wilbur's Basin, and that Burgoyne had left all his sick and wounded behind him, in the hospital, and had also abandoned a great number of wheel-carriages and other things. They had left Wilbur's Basin about nine o'clock, on the night of the 208 THE CAMP-FIRE 8th of October, and marched through all the rain, and over the bad roads, though they had been under arms all day, and the night before. I learned after- wards, that they were so worn out, that they had to make a halt, about six o'clock in the morning, and rest for three hours. It rained all day on the 9th, and of course we could n't think of pursuit that day ; but about noon of the next, we started. General Gates had calculated that Burgoyne would retreat on the 9th, and had sent General Fellows, with about fourteen hundred men, to occupy the high ground that was opposite the Saratoga ford ; another detach- ment to occupy the ground near Fort Miller; and another, of two thousand men, to occupy the heights beyond Saratoga, in the direction of Lake George." " I 've never been in the neighborhood where the battles were fought," said Zephaniah ; " but I suppose that these detachments were intended to cut off Bur- goyne's retreat." " That was their object," replied Luke. " We reached the high ground, between Saratoga Church and Fish Creek, about four o'clock in the afternoon. The British had crossed over the creek, and encamped on the high ground on the other side. The two armies were within the sound of each other's music. The boats of Burgoyne, with his baggage and provi- sions, were at the mouth of the creek. A fatigue party began to carry the stores from the boats to the AT WHITE PLAINS. 209 heights ; but General Fellows played on them with two field-pieces, and they were obliged to retreat to their camp. Several of the boats were taken, with their contents, and were plundered by the raw militia we had with the army. Even the continental troops would take their pay and rations directly from the enemy, instead of receiving it regularly; so that General Gates had to issue an order, in which he said he would have the first person who was detected in plundering the baggage and stores taken from the enemy, punished with the utmost severity of military law. Finding we had guarded the ford across the Hudson, Burgoyne thought he would retreat up the right bank of that river, till he got opposite to Fort Edward, and then force his way across, and take possession of that fort. But it seemed as if we had small detachments all over the surrounding country. Every height was guarded, and every passage blocked up. The workmen that Burgoyne had sent forward to open the roads and repair the bridges, were driven back into the camp. The British found the fort in possession of about two hundred Americans, under Colonel Cochrane. The militia flocked into the fort, to strengthen the garrison ; and the British, thinking our troops were as numerous in their front as in their rear, retreated back to their lines. About this time, a stratagem of the British commander came near being successful. He caused a rumor to reach us, 18* 210 THE CAMP-FIRE that the whole British army had marched towards Fort Edward, leaving only a small detachment, as a rear-guard, in defence of the camp. General Gates determined to cross Fish Creek, on the morning of the 11th, and fall upon the rear-guard with his whole force, and then make a vigorous pursuit after the main body. This, you see, was what Burgoyne wanted. He put a strong guard at the battery on the creek, and concealed his troops in the thicket in the rear — a sort of ambush. Well, the morning of the 11th was cloudless, as far as the sky was concerned; but a thick fog rested on the whole country, and ob- scured every object. This was thought to be a favor- able circumstance, by both generals. You must bear in mind, that what I 'm telling you now, I learned after the surrender ; it was impossible for me to know these things then." " Yes," said Zephaniah, " I was wonderin' how you got to know these things, seein' you weren't an officer." "All told to me afterwards," continued Luke; "but you must recollect I 'm telling you as if I saw it my- self at the time. Well, as I said, this was considered a favorable omen by both generals. Gates thought it would veil his movements from the British rear- guard ; and Burgoyne believed it would conceal his ambush, and that victory was certain. The brigades of Nixon and Glover, and Morgan's corps, were or- AT WHITE PLAINS. 211 dered to cross the creek, and fall upon the enemy's camp. Morgan advanced about daylight, when the fog was so thick that he could see but a few rods around him. He fell in with the British pickets, who poured in a volley on him, and killed a lieu- tenant and several privates. Morgan thought at once that the rumor was false, and that the enemy was in force in the rear; and Wilkinson, the deputy adju- tant-general, who had been sent by Gates to recon- noitre, was of the same opinion. Accordingly, our brigade, (that was, Learned's,) and Patterson's, were despatched to the support of Morgan. Nixon and Glover pressed forward to attack the camp. Nixon crossed the creek, and surprised a picket at Fort Hardy, and Glover was about to follow him, when a British soldier was seen fording the stream. He was captured, and professed to be a deserter. Glover questioned him, and was informed that the entire British army were in their camp, drawn up in the order of battle. Glover did n't believe him at first ; but the capture of a German deserter and a recon- noitring party, by the advance-guard, under Captain Goodale, put it beyond doubt. Gates, having received information of these things from Glover, revoked all the orders he had given on the previous evening, and directed the troops to return to their former positions. General Gates's head-quarters were about a mile in the rear of the army, and his orders came almost too 212 THE CAMP-FIRE late to save the troops from destruction. Those who had crossed the creek, were soon exposed to the enemy, by the fog clearing away. The British were under arms, on the heights. Nixon had retreated, however, and the cannonade opened on him by the British, took effect only on the rear of his detach- ment. In the meantime, our party had joined Mor- gan, and we were about to press on to the attack, when Wilkinson arrived, with the intelligence that the right wing of our army had given way. The commander of the detachment was General Learned, who also commanded our brigade. He was a veteran soldier ; and not having received any counter orders from Gates, he wanted to carr^^ out the orders of the previous day ; but on counselling with some of his officers, a retreat was deemed advisable. As we turned to retreat, the British opened their fire on us ; but we were soon masked by the woods, and Morgan took post on the flank and rear of the enemy. Thus we were enabled to return to our old positions, and thus were we saved from a fatal defeat ; for if Bur- goyne had cut off the brigades of Nixon, Glover, Learned, and Patterson, our army would have been so weakened, that Burgoyne might have easily scat- tered the remainder of our forces, and made good his retreat to Albany. But the deserters blasted all his prospects." "Open the canvass, there, Dick, and see if you AT WHITE PLAINS. 213 can perceive anything of the day coming over the hills," said Jim. " No, there 's no signs of it, yet/' replied Dick, after doing as requested. " Then Luke will have time to tell us about the surrender," said Zephaniah. "That's the most in- teresting part, to me." " Oh, yes," returned Luke, " I think there 's time enough to tell about that, yet. I '11 make it as short as possible." " Go on, then," said Zephaniah. " Well, Burgoyne saw that all retreat was cut off. The scouts reported that the roads swarmed with republicans. The few Indians he had with him, left him, disheartened by his ill success. The loyalists who had joined his army, began to think about their personal security, and drop off gradually. Burgoyne had expected to hear from Clinton ; but not a word did he receive from him. His camp was completely surrounded, and every part of it exposed to the fire of cannon and musketry. He had n't bread enough in camp for three days' use; and, of course, none could be obtained. None dared to go to the river for water, except the women of their camp — nc one would shoot at them ; but every man that went was a target for our marksmen. Their army was only about half as large as it was when they first came into the neighborhood of Stillwater, and the greater 214 THE CAMP-FIRE part of them were not Englishmen. Well, as I heard, on the morning of the loth of October, Burgoyne called a council of his officers, including even captains of companies. They sat in a large tent, which was several times a mark for our musket-balls. An eighteen-pound cannon-ball swept across the table at which Burgoyne and the other officers were sitting, and several grape-shot fell near the tent." " I guess they moved out of that pretty soon after that ; did n't they ?" enquired Zephaniah. " Yes," replied Luke, " their deliberation was short, and they resolved to open a treaty with General Gates, for an honorable surrender. Towards night, a flag came to our commander, with a note, stating that General Burgoyne wanted to send a field-officer to him, on matters of great moment, and wishing to know when General Gates would see him. The reply was, about ten o'clock the next morning, at the ad- vanced post of the army of the United States. Ac- cordingly, at the appointed time. Gates met Lieutenant Kingston, Burgoyne's adjutant-general. Gates sub- mitted the terms he had prepared to the inspection of Burgoyne ; but that general objected to an article requiring the British to lay down their arms in their camp. He said that he would not admit that the retreat of his army was cut off while the men had arms in their hands. So General Gates removed that article from the list of terms. Negotiations were kept AT WHITE PLAINS. 215 up till the 16th, when everything was arranged, ready for the signatures of the contracting parties. That act was to be performed on the 17th. On the night of the 16th, intelligence was communicated to Burgoyne, from Sir Henry Clinton, announcing the capture of the forts among the Hudson highlands, and the expedition of Vaughan and Wallace, up the river. This made Burgoyne anxious to avoid signing the articles of surrender; and Gates was made ac- quainted with the fact. Accordingly, on the morning of the 17th, we were drawn up in order of battle, and then Gates sent word to Burgoyne, that if he did n't sign the articles immediately, he would open a fire upon him, and that if the negotiation was to be broken off there, and again commenced, the terms would not be quite so honorable for him. So Bur- goyne was compelled to sign his name, and prepara- tions were made at once for the surrender. The British left their camp upon the hills, and marched slowly down upon the level plain, in front of old Fort Hardy ; and there the different companies were drawn up in parallel lines, and, by order of their several commanders, grounded their arms and emptied their cartridge-boxes. I did n't see this done, for Gates had ordered all his army within camp, out of sight of the vanquished British troops. Colonel Wilkinson was the only American present at the scene. He had been sent to the British camp, and, in company 216 THE CAMP-FIRE with Burgoyne, selected the place where the troops were to lay down their arms. After the surrender, Burgoyne wanted to be introduced to General Gates ; and he was conducted to head-quarters, with his staff. When Gates was informed of the approach of Bur- goyne and his officers, he rode out to meet him, with his staff. When within about a sword's length, they reined up and halted. Colonel Wilkinson then named the gentlemen, and the British commander said, ' The fortune of war. General Gates, has made me your prisoner.' Then Gates replied, complimenting him on his bravery and generalship. I could see the meeting of the generals, from the place where I was standing at the time. Burgoyne was dressed in a rich uniform, of scarlet and gold, and Gates in a plain blue frock-coat. The officers in Burgoyne's suite were then introduced to Gates and his staff, and the whole proceeded to head-quarters. Then the British troops came into camp, and we entertained them as if they were the best friends we had in the world. Every comfort we had they shared with us. They had been pretty hard pushed for provisions for some days previous, and they enjoyed our plenty." " It 's a pity we could n't always agree with them in that way," said Zephaniah. " I 'd sooner share my loaf with a man than fight him, at any time." " Yes, Zephaniah, I think so, too," returned Luke. " It 's a great pity we can't always agree with men AT WHITE PLAINS. 217 in the way we did with the British troops, after the surrender. But as long as there will be oppression, and men to fight in defence of it, there will be men to resist in the same way." " Well, I suppose you 've concluded your story ; have n't you ?" enquired Jim. " Yes, I think that 's quite enough for one night," returned Luke. " It must be near daybreak, any- how." Luke got up, pulled aside the canvass of the tent, and looked out. A few "envious streaks" were in the eastern horizon — harbingers of the approach of the blazing car of Phoebus. It was still very cold, and the clouds were of a leaden hue, that showed them burdened with a wealth of snow. Luke re- turned to the fire quickly, and the men sat there patiently, waiting for the day to dawn in full, that they might the sooner get their share of provisions. The fire was renewed, and the men stuck as close to it as before. In about half an hour, the reveille beat, and the camp was all bustle. No doubt, many of the soldiers had passed the night in the same manner as Luke and his comrades ; for the general fare of the soldiers was about the same as theirs. 19 THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. Previous to the second battle of Stillwater, which took place on the 7th of October, General Gates, an- ticipating a retreat of Burgoyne's army, sent General Fellows, with a detachment of fourteen hundred men, to occupy the high grounds east of the Hudson, oppo- site to Saratoga ford. After the action, he sent an- other detachment to occupy ground higher up, near Fort Miller, and ordered a selected corps of two thou- sand men, under General Stark, to push forward, and occupy the heights beyond Saratoga, in the direction of Lake George. In this way was the retreat of Bur- goyne cut off. The detachment under General Stark effectually prevented all communication between the British army and Canada, which could only be made by way of Lake George. Their encampment was situated on the heights beyond Saratoga, and partly concealed in a wood. The detachment consisted al- most entirely of the New Hampshire militia, raised principally by General Stark himself. That general was very popular among the inhabitants of his native (218) THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. 219 region, and he could call a larger body of men to serve under him, than any other commander. What was called the New Hampshire militia, in those days, included not only the militia of the country that forms the present State of New Hampshire, but also those raised in the country that now forms the State of Vermont. At that time, this portion of territory was called " The New Hampshire Grant." It was two days before the surrender of the haughty Britons, at Saratoga. The detachment of General Stark had received the intelligence that Burgoyne and his officers had decided upon a surrender of their army ; and, though that event had been expected, the troops were much elated at the idea of capturing such a proud and well-appointed force. The evening was setting in, gray and dusk ; and as the nights of October are chilly in that high region, the camp-fires were blazing in the wood, and near the verge of the hill, on a short clearing. Each tent had its usual party around the fire in front of it, laughing heartily at the slightest joke, as men will do when anything occurs to put them in a very good humor, or listening to the narrative of some ruling spirit, recounting the details of some event which the speaker had seen, or in which he had participated. Before a tent in the wood, was a group of five men, whom we shall particularly notice. The tent was the one deepest in the wood, at some distance from 220 THE CAMP-FIRE the rest. Either there were not seats enough for the whole party, or two of them did not seem anxious to sit down. Two of the men were seated on large stones, brought near the fire ; one, with his hat off, was enjoying the luxury of a pipe, and the other w^as evidently talking to the group about something full of interest. A young-looking individual was leaning his back against a tree, as he stood, with folded arms, at the right hand of the man with the pipe in his mouth. Within a few feet of the young man, stood another soldier, with a very good-humored Irish coun- tenance ; he was leaning on the bend of the bayonet of his musket, and also had a pipe. On the ground, between the two men sitting on the stones, was an- other individual, in a half-sitting, half-lying posture, with his right arm leaning upon the seat of the one who was smoking. They were dressed more uni- formly than was usual among the militia. The "bagonet-hat" was there; and in the case of the Irishman, it was cocked in a very rollicking manner over the left eye. Then there was the coat commonly worn by the continental troops, made of blue, and trimmed with buff. Short epaulettes were on the shoulders of them all. "You have no idea of the affair, if I can judge from what you say," remarked the man sitting on the stone next to the soldier who was smoking. " I tell you, it was one of the most glorious day's work, for THE CAMP FIRE AT SARATOGA. AT SARATOGA. 221 our side, we Ve done since the commencement of the war." " Oh, Hadley, do n't put it on so thick !" said the one lying on the ground. " You want to magnify a skirmish into a battle ; do n't you ?" " A skirmish !" returned Hadley ; " why, if that was a skirmish, the war has been nothing but skir- mishes ! Do you know anything about the battle ?" " Yes ; I know that there was a few Hessians sent to Bennington, to capture the stores there, and that General Stark, who commands us now, got some Green Mountain boys together, and drove the enemy away 5 and that 's all of it," replied Seth, as the speaker was called. "Pshaw!" ejaculated Looney, the Irishman. "1 know there was more of it. Let 's hear all about it, from a man that was on the spot. Go on wid ye !" " Yes," said Ephraim, the other gentleman with a pipe, " tell us the particulars, Hadley." " Anything that has General Stark mixed in with it, must be worth hearing," remarked Josiah, the young man leaning against the tree. " I 've no objection to put you in the way of hear- ing the right account of what Seth, here, calls ^ the skirmish at Bennington,' " replied Hadley. " I say it was a real hard-fought battle ; and I '11 tell you all the particulars that I'm acquainted with, and you may judge whether it deserved the contempt of being 19* 222 THE CAMP-FIRE called a skirmish. In my humble opinion, it did as much to bring about the capture of Burgoyne's army, as any other single event." "Well, I'm anxious to hear the account," said Ephraim. " Go on, and let us have it," said Looney. " You must know, then," began Hadley, " when I heard that the army of Burgoyne was moving down into New York, from Canada, and that General Stark was commissioned to raise a force of militia to protect the frontiers, I at once resolved to join him — our family being in danger, as well as any of the rest. I went to Charlestown, on the Connecticut ; from there, most of the men were sent to join Colonel Warner's regiment, which had taken post at Manchester, twenty miles above Bennington ; but I went to Bennington, and joined Colonel Nichols, because I knew him better. There Stark soon joined us. General Lin- coln had been sent from Stillwater, by General Schuy- ler, who then had command of the northern depart- ment of the army, to conduct the militia to the west bank of the Hudson ; but General Stark, you may have heard, was acting under orders from the Assem- bly of New Hampshire, and not from the General Government ; and he declined complying with Schuy- ler's request. In s^oite of some resolutions adopted by Congress, with the object of drawing us away from the protection of our own homes, General Stark kept AT SARATOGA. 223 his ground. On the 13th of August, news reached Bennington, that a party of Indians belonging to Baum's force, had been perceived at Cambridge, about twelve miles northwest of Bennington. General Stark immediately sent out Lieutenant-Colonel Gregg, with two hundred men, to check the march of the party. In the course of the night, an express arrived, with the intelligence that a large body of the enemy, with a train of artillery, were in the rear of the Indians, on their march to Bennington. We were all sum- moned to get ready at once, for the enemy would soon be upon us. Colonel Warner was ordered to march his regiment down to Bennington, and a call was made on all the neighboring militia. Early on the morning of the 14th, all the force that had col- lected at Bennington moved forward, under General Stark, to support Colonel Gregg. Colonel Warner's regiment had not arrived, of course, but the Colonel himself was with usj his regiment, at Manchester, being under the command of Major Safford. When we were about four miles from Bennington, we met Colonel Gregg's party, in full retreat, and heard that the enemy was within a mile of him. We halted, and were drawn up in order of battle." " How many was in your whole army ?" enquired Seth. "About a thousand, I think," replied Hadley. "I'm pretty sure there was n't more than that number en- 224 THE CAMP-FIRE gaged in the battle of the 16th. Well, we were within sight of the enemy ; and they, seeing that we had taken a stand, halted in a very favorable position, and there entrenched themselves. We found that we could n't draw the Dutchmen out, and we fell back about a mile, leaving a small party to skirmish with the enemy. Our party made out well in that skir- mish, too; for they killed and wounded thirty of the enemy, with two Indian chiefs, and lost none at all themselves. That was all that was done that day. The next, the 15th, was rainy, and we could do nothing but skirmish." " Did n't I tell you it was only a skirmish ?" inter- rupted Seth. " Hold on awhile, Seth, till we hear it all," said Ephraim. "Yes, hold on till I get through, and then pass your opinion upon it," continued Hadley. " We did nothing on the 15th, but skirmish ; but that skirmish- ing had some effect. The Indians said the woods were filled with Yankees, and began to desert Baum. The delay gave the enemy some advantages, however. It enabled them to complete their breastworks, and to send to Burgoyne for a reinforcement. On the morning of the 16th, we received a small reinforce- ment of militia, under Colonel Symonds, and then General Stark made preparations for an attack. The Dutch were posted, with their battery, on a rising AT SARATOGA. 225 ground at a bend in the WoUansac, a small stream that runs into the Hoosac River. Their position was on its north bank. The ground fell off to the north and west ; a circumstance that Stark noted, and of which he made good use. On the other side of the stream, a body of tories were entrenched. The ground they occupied was lower, and nearly in front of the German battery. The stream was fordable in all places. We were encamped on the same side of it as the Germans ; but it was so winding and snake- like, that we had to cross it twice on our way to our position. The post of the eilemy was carefully re- connoitred, at a mile's distance, and the plan of attack was arranged. I '11 tell you how it was to be. Col- onel Nichols, with two hundred men, (of which I was one,) was detached to attack the rear of the enemy's left, and Colonel Herrick, with three hundred fnen, to fall upon the rear of their right, with orders to form a junction before they made the assault. Col- onels Hubbard and Stickney were also ordered to advance, with two hundred men, on their right, and one hundred in front, to divert their attention from the real point of attack. Everything being arranged, the battle commenced about three o'clock in the afternoon, by our party, (that is, Nichols',) falling on the rear of the enemy's left. We went up to our work as men should do. No regular troops could have done it better. We marched through their fire p 226 THE CAMP-FIRE steadily, and the rest of our forces followed the ex- ample. The Indians, seeing they were about to be enclosed between the parties of Herrick and Nichols, broke away almost as soon as we began to move. They do n't know anything about that sort of fighting. As soon as General Stark heard our firing, — one of his men told me this, after the battle, — he said, as he pointed to the enemy, he ^ would gain the victory over them, or Molly Stark should be a widow that night;' and then he rushed upon the tories. From the time the battle commenced, till it was over, the fire was kept up continually. One constant roar, for two hours, was almost all that could be heard. I confess, I felt rather strange. I had never seen any- thing of the kind before. But I did n't think of running. I always had a good share of courage; and nothing would have cut me deeper than having it said I was a coward. I pressed on fearlessly with the men at my side. I don't know what you call • skirmishing,' Seth ; but if you had seen us raw militia walk up to the cannon's mouth, and fight over the breastwork, with the veterans of Germany, I do n't think you would have called it by such a name as ' skirmishing.' " " Did you and the rest march up to the cannon's mouth ?" enquired Seth. " Yes ; raw militia, without a single field-piece, and very few bagonets, marched up to the breastwork as AT SARATOGA. 227 steadily as veterans, and in a heavy fire, too," replied Hadley. " I give up ; it was more than a skirmish, then," said Seth, generously. "I 'm glad to hear you say so," returned Hadley. " You knew very little about the affair, I suppose, when you made the remark. But, to go on with my account. General Stark soon drove the tories over the river, and they were thus thrown in confusion on the Germans, who were forced from their breastwork- The German commander was a really brave man, and he made his men stand up to receive us. His dragoons preserved their order unbroken ; and when all their ammunition was gone, their colonel led them to the charge with the sword. You see, these were Reidesel's dragoons, who were without horses, but were to be supplied with them, in case Baum should be successful. Well, we pushed them so hard, that they had to give way at last, leaving their artillery and baggage on the field. We all knew how much depended on our beating the enemy in that battle. We were fighting for our homes ; and most of us would rather have died, than we should have been defeated. Besides, just before the battle, General Stark promised the militia all the plunder that might be taken. This served as an additional incentive to action, and the men went at the foe as if they were certain of victory, and had no idea of being defeated." 228 THE CAMP-FIRE " Did you pursue the inemy ?" asked Looney. " No," replied Hadley. " They had no sooner been driven from the field, than we dispersed to collect the plunder. Guns, drums, bayonets, broadswords, and other things, belonging to the Hessians, were scattered all over the field, and we secured them in a hurry, I tell you. I 've got a splendid gun and bago- net at home, that I took for my share of the spoils. I had an ugly, heavy, grenadier's hat, that made me wonder how the Hessians managed to walk under them, but I gave it away. It was about five o'clock, when we dispersed in the way I told you. Suddenly, the news was brought that a large reinforcement of Hessians was on the march towards the battle-field, and that Baum's flying troops had rallied. The rein- forcement was under the command of Colonel Brey- man, the brave German officer that was killed here at Stillwater, the other day. They had been detained by the rain and the badness of the roads, and just happened to arrive as their friends were defeated. I suppose they must have been very much worn with marching ; and that, together with the disappointment of finding Baum defeated, helped, no doubt, to put them in low spirits. General Stark tried all he could to collect the militia ; but if Colonel Warner's regi- ment had not arrived on the field just as Breyman appeared, the day would have been turned against us. Warner's regiment numbered less than two hun- AT SARATOGA. 229 dred. They were not many, but they were fresh ; and they fell upon the enemy with great vigor. I was among those who were rallied by General Stark, and we pushed forward to the assistance of Warner. Then followed an obstinate and bloody contest. The Germans stood their ground bravely. Baum was wounded and made prisoner. General Stark's horse was shot under him, as he was in the thickest of the fight, cheering the men. The day was very warm, it being in August ; and it was a wonder to me, how those Hessians could fight when they were fully equipped. About sunset, the enemy were forced to give way ; and then, feeling sure of victory, we pur- sued them, as they fled in every direction, till dark, when General Stark was obliged to draw ofi* the men, for fear they might shoot each other, in mistake. The whole force sent against us, was either killed, captured, or dispersed." " What was their actual loss ?" asked Seth. " No exaggeration, now." " I can prove what I 'm going to tell you, if you doubt it," replied Hadley. " There was two hundred and seven killed on the spot, and about seven hun- dred prisoners taken. The wounded were not esti- mated. It is said that Burgoyne lately acknowledged a loss of 1220 men by that day's battle, though I cannot vouch for the truth of the statement. Our loss was only thirty killed and forty wounded." 20 230 THE CAMP-FIRE " That was a splendid victory for raw troops to achieve, — there 's no mistake about it," said Ephraim, taking a long puff of his pipe before he spoke. '■ I suppose the credit is due almost entirely to Generu ; Stark." " Yes, he was the spirit that brought it all about," replied Hadley. " He infused an ardor into the men, that no other leader could have inspired them with. They knew what sort of a man their leader was, and what he expected of them ; and they came up to expectation. I shall never forget his appearance when he was trying to rally the dispersed militia. His face was flushed, even at the thought of the day's turning against us. ^ Come, men,' said he, ' throw down your spoils and make the day sure. You can whip them, and you must !' How he dashed to Warner's assistance, as soon as he had rallied a little band around him ! He, no doubt, remembered his determination to win the day, or die in the attempt." " That battle shows what a few determined men can do, even without the equipments of an army," remarked Seth. " I suppose you had more spile, after the second fight, than you had before," said Looney. " Oh, plenty of it," returned Hadley. " We took four pieces of brass cannon. When the first one was taken, none of the men knew how to manage it ; and Stark went and attended to it himself That 's what AT SARATOGA. 231 makes the thing more laughable. Men who did n't know how to manage a cannon after they had cap- tured it, drove regular soldiers from behind breast- works defended with cannon ! Then there was about three hundred stand of arras, two hundred and fifty dragoon swords, four ammunition wagons, and twelve brass drums, captured ; and most of them fell to the troops." " I wish we had something drinkable," remarked Ephraim. " I 'd like to drink the General's health." "Ah !" ejaculated Looney, smacking his lips, "whis- key would be the darlin' to do it wid. But it 's of no use ; we can't git any." " Well," said Hadley, " we '11 make an engagement to drink his health with the first liquor we get a chance at. Mind you — Hhe health of Brigadier-Gen- eral John Stark,' must be your first drink." " Och, we '11 mind it," returned Looney. " I think we 'd better let the fire go out, and go in, though. I fale like slapin' a wink." " Hold on a bit, Looney," said Seth ; " Eph says he 's going to sing us a song first." "Who said so?" enquired Ephraim; anxiously waiting to be coaxed to sing. " Oh, come, no blarney," said Looney ; " sing away wid ye, mon " " Do, Eph," added Josiah, " I want to hear a good song. 232 THE CAMP-FIRE But Ephraim would wait for more coaxing; and nobody appearing anxious to humor him, Hadley said : — " Since Ephraim won't sing, I '11 volunteer to sing you a song I learned not a great while ago. It's about the subject that has interested you to-night — the battle of Bennington." Ephraim looked somewhat abashed at this, but said nothing. "I don't pretend to sing," said Hadley; "so I do n't want you to find fault with my voice or manner of singing." " Divil a bit," returned Looney. " Go on wid ye ;" and Hadley trolled out, in a very ordinary voice, the following song, commemorative of the battle of Ben- nington : — Eemember the glories of patriots brave, Though the days of the heroes are o'er; Long lost to their country, and cold in their grave, They return to their kindred no more. The stars of the field, which in victory pour'd Their beams on the battle, are set; But enough of their glory remains on each sword To light us to victory yet! Wollansac ! when nature embellish'd the tint Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair, Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print The footsteps of slavery there? AT SARATOGA. 233 No ! Freedom, wliose smiles we shall never resign, Told those who invaded our plains, That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine. Than to sleep for a moment in chains. Forget not the chieftain of Hampshire, who stood In the day of distress by our side; Nor the heroes who nourish'd the fields with their blood. Nor the rights they secured as they died. The sun that now blesses our eyes with his light. Saw the martyrs of liberty slain; 0, let him not blush when he leaves us to-night. To find that they fell there in vain ! " Good !" exclaimed the Irishman ; briefly express- ing his satisfaction, when Hadley had concluded, "The words are strongly patriotic," remarked Ephraim, " and the tune passable. Your account of the battle of Bennington has filled me with such an admiration of General Stark, that I '11 have to learn that song, if it 's only to glorify him." " I '11 learn it to all of you, some other time," said Hadley. " Let 's go in, now ; it must be about ten o'clock." The fire had been gradually dying out, while the men were engaged in conversation, and the last few embers were paling their light by this time. The whole five went into the tent, to seek repose for the night. Most of the fires had been extinguished long before, and the deep shadow of the wood enveloped 20* 234 THE CAMP-FIRE AT SARATOGA. the greater part of the encampment in gloom. Upon the clearing, near the edge of the hill — for the de- scent was very steep — three or four fires had been kept burning, by the sentinels on duty, to warm and light them in their lonely walk. THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK. The campaign of 1778 having closed, the American army went into winter quarters. Nine brigades were stationed on the west side of the Hudson River, ex- clusive of the garrison at West Point. One of these brigades was quartered near Smith's Cove, where it could serve as a reinforcement to West Point, should it be necessary ; another, at Elizabethtown ; and the remaining seven, at Middlebrook ; which place was likewise selected for head-quarters. Six brigades were cantoned on the east side of the Hudson, and at West Point, as follows : — one at West Point ; two at the Continental Village, a post between Fishkill and West Point ; and three in the vicinity of Dan- bury, in Connecticut. The artillery was at Plucke- min. A line of cantonments was thus formed around New York, from Long Island Sound to the Delaware, so disposed as to give security to the country, and to reinforce each other, in case of an incursion of the enemy to any particular point. Another oliject at- tained by this arrangement, was the easy subsistence (235) 236 THE C*AMP-FIRE of the troops. General M'Dougal commanded in the Highlands, and General Putnam at Danbury. Until February of 1779, the troops at Middlebrook were obliged to live in canvass tents, suffering ex- tremely from exposure to cold and storms. By that time, the soldiers had completed some log huts, which gave them a comfortable shelter for the rest of the winter. These huts were erected by the soldiers, without tools, except the axe and saw ; and a descrip- tion of their manner of building them may not prove uninteresting. They were constructed of the trunks of trees, cut into various lengths, according to the size of the building for which they were intended, and firmly connected by notches cut in their extre- mities, after the manner of dovetailing. The spaces between the logs were filled in with plastering, con- sisting of mud and clay. The roof was formed of similar pieces of timber, and covered with hewn slabs. The chimney, situated at one end of the house, was made of similar, but smaller timbers ; and both the inner and the outer sides were covered with clay plaster, to defend the wood against the fire. The doors and windows were formed by sawing away a part of the logs where the openings were required, and the pieces sawed out were then arranged to move on wooden hinges. The huts were placed in straight lines ; thus forming a regular, uniform, and compact village. The officers' huts were situated in front of AT MIDDLEBROOK. 237 the line, according to their rank. The kitchens were in the rear, and the whole was similar in form to a tent encampment. The ground, for a considerable distance in front of the soldiers' line of huts, was cleared of wood, stumps, and rubbish, and every morning swept clean, for the purpose of a parade- ground and roll-call of the respective regiments. The officers' huts were in general divided into two apart- ments, and were occupied by three or four officers, who composed one mess. Those occupied by the privates had but one room, which contained ten or twelve men, with their cabins or bunks, which were placed one above another, against the walls, and filled with straw, and a blanket for each man. It was February ; and fires were burning in every hut at Middlebrook. It was night, too; and each lowly habitation had its group of men seated around the fire, which blazed up cheerfully, shedding light and heat around. The soldiers could well appreciate the comforts of these huts, after living in the slight canvass tents that had served them for their former habitations. No doubt they thought of peace, and all the enjoyments of a quiet fireside, while lolling around their fires, of an evening, cracking jokes and relating adventures; but if they did, it must have been only to vent imprecations on the heads of the tyrants who had forced them into their present situa- tion. Strange characters were sometimes joined in 238 THE CAMP-FIRE the same mess, which tended to make their conversa- tion a better study than is usually afforded. There was one, in particular, which bore this character. The mess we speak of, occupied a hut at one ex- tremity of the encampment. It was composed of the most incongruous characters that could have been found anywhere. A backwoodsman, (the people of the western part of New York were called ' back- woodsmen,' in those days,) an Irishman, several Yan- kees, and various others, from the Middle States, including a Conestoga farmer, from Pennsylvania, a broken-down literary gentleman, from New York, and others, whose previous occupations were of a very doubtful character. Upon the particular night of which we speak, the elements were at war out of doors — the wind blow- ing fiercely, and snow and rain falling; just such a night as is calculated to make us enjoy a good fire and pleasant company. The mess were seated around the fire, in a semicircle ; seated, we say, but only after a fashion. There were a few boards laid in front of the fire, upon which the most of them were half-sitting, half-lying. There was evidently a sort of respect manifested for the quondam literary man, as there generally is for the man " who writes for the papers." His opinions, expressed in better language than his comrades could command, and delivered in a very confident manner, were always listened to with jsi AT MIDDLEBROOK. 239 grave attention, and they generally decided the oft- recurring disputes between the members of the mess. They were discussing some of the events of the pre- ceding campaign ; but their principal topic was the battle at Monmouth Court-House, the great event of that campaign. " Well, Conestogey," said one of the Yankees, "you may talk away there, as much as your thick Dutch tongue will let you — I tell you, it 's a fact." The Yankee was evidently endeavoring to make the Pennsylvanian swallow a rather knotty yarn. " Come, come," remarked another of the company, " that 's a pretty good one for you, Josiah, but it 's bad money ; it won't pass !" " Well, if you do n't b'lieve it, there 's an end of it," returned Josiah. "What's that he don't believe?" enquired the literary man, rousing himself from a state of musing, or listlessness, into which he had fallen. " Why," replied Josiah, " I was tellin' 'em about a red-coat that I killed at the battle of Monmouth, in an outlandish kind of a way. He got separated from his troop, and so did I; but it seemed as how he warn't of the right grit. He went skulkin' around among the trees, afeared to show himself, when I caught sight on him. There was two trees atween me and him ; but as I had a pretty good sort of a fire- lock with me, I did n't think about waitin' till I had 240 THE CAMP-FIRE a better chance, so I let drive at him ; and sour my ■uncle's milk, if the ball did n't go aclean through both trees, and lodged right plump in the breast of the red-coat — killin' him on the spot." "About how thick were those trees, Josiah ?" asked the literary man, critically " Divil a bit o' difference to him," put in the Hiber- nian, who had been listening to the conversation. " Well," replied Josiah, without paying any atten- tion to the Irishman's remark, " I guess abeout a foot through." " Well, I never !" ejaculated another of the ' down- easters.' "Naw, naw," said the grum Conestoga farmer, shaking his head. "Josiah," said the king of the mess, the literary man, looking severely at the down-easter, "it's im- possible to do anything of the sort, and you never did do it. Let your next story have a little probability in it, or we '11 make you keep your talk to yourself." " Well, all I 've got to say is, that it 's a fact," re- plied Josiah ; " but as you do n't seem to like my story, suppose you tell one, yourself." "Yes, do," said the backwoodsman, who had re- mained quiet till now, "I like to hear you tell a story ; you can talk like a lawyer, right to the p'int, without any flummery." " Ah, boys," said the literary man, sighing, " I 've AT MIDDLEBROOK. 241 seen the day when I would not yield to anybody the superiority in the telling of a story, or writing one, either — but that 's past now ; and as I feel my years growing upon me, I also feel the decline of my powers. I '11 do my best to amuse you, however, if you 11 only make allowances." The men nodded their heads, in acquiescence, for they really did like to hear him talk. It was very seldom that they came across a man, among the com- mon soldiery, who possessed his quality of tongue. He was probably one of a class of men, who, though possessed of real talent, have such a shrinking nature, such a distrust of their own abilities, that they never aspire to rank among the higher class of intellects, but content themselves with living and acting among a class who are much their inferiors. Had he pos- sessed confidence enough, no doubt he might have obtained a commission in the army ; but he had not that quality, and therefore was among the privates. After clearing his throat, and replenishing the fire with a few more sticks of wood, he commenced : — " The mention of the battle at Monmouth Court- House, called to my mind various incidents which occurred on that day ; some of these, I presume, one or two of you are acquainted with ; but the others, I know, did not come under your notice. Those of you who were present at the battle, were, according to your own account, with General Greene. I hap- 21 Q 242 THE CAMP-FIRE pened to be with the left wing of the army, under General Lee. What I 'm going to tell you about, are the incidents that occurred to the left wing of our army, that day. You know, that we retreated, and that that retreat prevented us from achieving a glorious victory. The retreat was a mistake of General Scott's judgment; he thought a movement on his right, made by a portion of our troops, was a retreat. We fell back across a morass, and through a wood, which we were to have occupied. As soon as General Lee was informed of our retreat, he ex- pressed his disapprobation of General Scott's conduct, in strong terms ; but, instead of endeavoring to regain the ground that Scott had lost, he sent word to La- fayette to meet him at the court-house, and continued to fall back towards a point where he proposed to make a stand. The day was excessively warm, and the continued marching of the troops, beneath the blazing sun, and through sand knee-deep, caused many a poor fellow to drop down, never to rise again. A comrade of mine, Ben Hansel, was among the number. He and I had enlisted together; we had passed side by side through the same battles ; and when I was wounded, he watched over me like a brother; he knew I would have done the same for him. I saw Ben fall, and I could n't go on with the troops, and let him die alone and untended, like a cast-off dog. I went to the captain, and begged him, M AT MIDDLEBROOK. 243 for God's sake, to let me stop and assist poor Ben, that I might save his life, if possible. The captain was a humane man; he sympathized with me, but said that we needed all the men we could get. He said there was no hope of Ben's recovery, and that I could n't be spared just then. I persisted in entreat- ing him ; but he said he must not forget his duty, and refused me any further hearing. I struggled for awhile between my friendship for poor Ben and my obedience to the captain's dictates; but friendship triumphed in the end ; and, watching my opportunity, I dropped away from the company, and hastened back to where poor Ben laid. He had dragged himself to a bank beneath a tree, by the roadside ; and there he lay, gasping for breath, his face flushed extremely, and his limbs lying perfectly useless. I knew that he had not a great while to live, as soon as I looked at him. I had suffered a good deal from the heat and toil of marching, and knew that I was stronger than Ben ; for he had experienced a long spell of sickness. I rushed up to him, and unfastened his jacket and vest, so as to give him as much air as pos- sible. He knew me at once, and as he languidly opened his eyes, gasped out, ^ Is that you, Jack ?' I answered him, and told him I had contrived to get away, to take care of him. ' God bless you for it. Jack,' he murmured, ' but it 's of little use — I 'm going fast.' I tried to comfort him as much as I 244 THE CAMP-FIRE could ; but I needed more comfort than I could give ; for Ben was the truest friend I ever had, and I was going to lose him. I felt his hand ; it was growing cold. He managed to gasp a request for water ; and I left him for a few minutes, while I went in search of some. I found a brook near by, and returned to Ben, with a cup-full of the water. I always carried a small tin cup with me, when on duty. I held the cup to his parched lips, and he sipped it slowly, till it seemed to revive him a little. 'Jack,' said he, ' you 've been a true friend to me, and there 's a re- ward for such as you. When you go to Philadelphia again, go and see my wife ; and tell Mary that I thought of her as long as God gave me power to think. You '11 find, in my pocket, a love-knot of her hair and mine — take that to her ; and do you. Jack, take anything that I have about me, to make you think of me sometimes.' I promised him all he asked, and he wrung my hand with the little strength he had left. I shed tears ; I could n't help it." " You 're a man for doin' that same," interrupted the Irishman, who, like all the rest, had been deeply interested in the narrative. The literary gentleman brushed a tear from his eye, and proceeded : — "Ben had just strength enough left to murmur, ^ God bless you, Jack — God bless my wife !' and his limbs stiffened, and I felt the hand I held grow cold ; he was dead. I wept for awhile over the body of my AT MIDDLEBROOK. 245 old comrade, and then I was forced to leave it. My company had long been out of sight, but I made all the haste I could to overtake them. They must have taken a very roundabout road, for nought could I see of them. I was fearful of falling into the hands of the enemy, and so I thought it best to take to the wood for cover. I passed cautiously through it, till I came near the edge of it, when I climbed a tall pine, to look around me before I proceeded further. There, just without the wood, I saw a squadron of horse, and a party of officers, whom I knew were Americans. Upon closer scrutiny, I discovered the figure of the commander-in-chief, who was evidently engaged in an altercation with another officer. This, I afterwards ascertained, was General Lee, to whom Washington was addressing some very indignant remarks Lee seemed to be very much excited by General Wash- ington's language ; but Washington rode away soon after, followed by his aids. I knew, from seeing some of our troops who were under the command of Lee, that I could not be far off from my regiment, and I therefore descended the tree, and walked cautiously to the edge of the wood, when I could see the bat- talions under the command of Colonels Stewart and Ramsay, who had been ordered to form, by Washing- ton, and, under cover of the corner of the wood, to await the approach of the British. I took a circuitous route through the wood, and joined my company 21* 246 THE CAMP-FIRE without being observed by the captain. The men, I knew, would not inform on me. The British pressed on us close, and their light horse came down on us with such a force, that we broke and fled. We had to give way so fast, that we came out of the wood almost mixed up with the enemy. Livingston's regi- ment and Varnum's brigade had been stationed along the fence and in the open field, in front of the bridge over the morass, across which we had retreated be- fore, and they received the British with a heavy fire ; while the artillery, that had retired to the rear of the fence, poured some grape-shot into them. But they came on with a force we could not withstand ; and a charge of their horse, broke Livingston's and Var- num's troops, who had covered our retreat, and they retired. Colonel Ogden had been ordered to take a position in the wood nearest the bridge, and to defend that post to the last extremity, in order to cover the retreat of the whole over the bridge ; and he executed his orders to the letter. We all retreated safely over the bridge, and advanced to take a position on an eminence to w^iich Lee had been directed. The Gen- eral was one of the last men on the field, and brought off" the rear himself. He was a brave man, whatever his faults may have been, and sustained his reputa- tion admirably during the rest of the day. The stand we had made, though a very short one, served to check the advance of the enemy, and to give time AT MIDDLEBROOK. 247 to form the left wing and second line of the main army, in. the wood and on the hill to which Lee was ordered. But you are nearly all acquainted with most of the other events of that day's fight, and I '11 not repeat them. I saw Washington several times, in the thickest part of the action, where the bullets were whistling around him, and many of the soldiers fighting hand to hand. He was encouraging the men, and giving his orders with the calmness he always exhibits in the hour of danger. His white horse and his tall form offered a good mark for the enemy ; but he was unharmed. Night overtook us in the midst of a movement to attack the British in the strong position to which they had retreated, and we laid upon our arms during the night, with the in- tention of attacking them next morning. Never were men more desirous of rest than we. We were almost worn out by the heat of the weather and the toil of marching and fighting. I laid down among the rest ; but although I was as tired as the most of them, I could n't sleep. The moon was shining clear and beautiful in the sky above, and everything on the field was visible to me. I was half-sitting, half- lying on the ground, pretty much in the same position as at present, musing on the scene presented to my eye, and on the events of the day. Among the sub- jects of my thoughts, was poor Ben Hansel, of whose death I told you ; I thought of his young wife, and 248 THE CAMP-FIRE the message I was to convey to her, if I ever returned to Philadelphia. I had no wife of my own, but I could appreciate Ben's devotion to her, truly ; and I thought that perhaps she was looking at that moon above me, and wondering how many moons would pass away before her husband returned to her. The sentinels were pacing on the outside of the lines of sleeping soldiers ; and as I looked at them, I thought how tired the' poor fellows must be, and how anxious for their time to expire, that they might be relieved. I felt a little rested myself, and got up and offered to relieve one of them, and he accepted the offer grate- fully ; lying down near where I was to act as sentinel, in order, I supposed, to guard against treachery, which the offer, at such a time, no doubt, had sug- gested to him. I soon discovered the cause of his carefulness. Under a tree, within my range, lay the form of the commander-in-chief. He was wrapped in his cloak, and had a soldier's knapsack under his head, for a pillow. There he lay, evidently sleeping as soundly and sweetly as an infant. No one would have thought that the man who was there sleeping so calmly, had that day directed the movements of a large army, and had fought among them, in the most dangerous and best-contested positions. Men, let me tell you, the man who has that much command over himself, must be a great man. I couldn't sleep, though very tired, because of my little troubles ; yet AT MIDDLEBROOK. 249 this man, to whom a nation looked as its support, slept quietly as the ocean in the calm that sometimes succeeds the storm." " Well, you 're not done ; are you ?" enquired one of the down-easters, as the narrator paused. He did not answer immediately, but seemed wrapped in deep thought. " Did you see your friend's wife, 'cordin' to pro- mise ?" asked the backwoodsman, who had been much interested in the narrative of Ben's death. "All in good time, men," replied the narrator. " You know the British decamped during the night, without our knowledge. The main body of the army afterwards drew off to the borders of the North River. I tried to get permission from the commander of the regiment, to go to Philadelphia j but I could not. I therefore wrote a letter to Ben's wife, giving an account of his death, and enclosed the love-knot formed of their hair. Soon after, I received a letter from her, full of expressions of gratitude to me, and grief for the loss of her husband. She asked me to keep up a correspondence with her, as she was now alone in the world, and I had been her husband's friend ; and I accordingly have done so ever since." " Then," said the Hibernian, " you must give us a bit o' the cake, when the weddin' comes off." The listeners laughed, but the person addressed did not give the remark any attention. No doubt, he 250 THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK. was imagining the war over, and a neat little cottage by the side of a stream, with his friend's wife under his protection. " Noting like a goot vrow dat can work," remarked the Conestoga farmer. " Well, men," said the literary man, rousing him- self. " It 's about time for us to bunk. "We '11 fix the fire, and then turn in." The fire was arranged for the night, and the mess sought their comfortable bunks. There, revelling in dreams of the battle of Monmouth, and poor Bei; and his wife, we leave them for the present. the camp-fire at middlebrook. (continued.) The next night after the one on which we intro- duced the mess at Middlebrook to the reader, they were gathered around the fire, as usual. The Penn- sylvanian, looking grum as possible ; the Irishman, humming a rollicking reel-tune ; the literary man, musing, with his head resting on his hands, and looking vacantly at the fire ; the Yankees from Con- necticut, trying to outdo the backwoodsman, with the strength of their yarns j and the remainder, half asleep, presented a picture for the painter, and for which the pen is inadequate. " Och, murther, but this is a slapey way o' doin' the business," said the Irishman. " Won't some of yez sing, or tell us a story, or do anythin' to make life amongst yez ?" Nobody answered the appeal of the Irishman ; and he was on the point of commencing the " Boys of Kilkenny," or the " Sprig of Shillelah," when he was prevented, by one of the party volunteering to give (251) 252 THE CAMP-FIRE an account of an adventure in which he was a parti- cipant. The Irishman was very willing to forego the pleasure of hearing himself sing, and all were ready to hear anything capable of amusing them. " What 's it abeout ?" enquired one of the indivi- duals from Connecticut. " Is there a lady in it ?" said another of the com- pany. " No insinuations," returned the literary gentleman, raising himself from his musing position. " Go on with your narrative," he continued, addressing the volunteer. " Well," commenced that individual, after fixing himself in a comfortable position, " you must know, it was about two years ago, while the armies were manoeuvring at Saratoga, expecting a battle every day, I resided on my father's farm, in the vicinity. I had not joined the army under Gates, because my parents were getting old, and I could not be spared. There was a good many young men living near me, who were anxious to join the army and fight for their country, but were prevented by circumstances of a like character. However, we often formed parties to capture picket-guards and foraging detachments, be- longing to the British, and sometimes to annoy those of the neighbors who professed an attachment to the royal cause ; thus serving our country, though we could not do so, regularly, in the field. It is one of AT MIDDLEBROOK. 253 these adventures that I 'm going to tell you about. There was about twenty of us who assembled regu- larly, upon four nights of the week. Our farm was generally the meeting-place, and there we planned the excursions we made. Intelligence was brought us, by one of our number, that there was an advance picket-guard of the British stationed on the north bank of the Middle Ravine, (or Mill Creek, as it was sometimes called,) which consisted of about thirty men ; and he suggested that it would be an easy thing to surprise them. The prospect of an adventure heartily pleased us all ; and we resolved to undertake it, if for nothing else, for the sake of the frolic. Ac- cordingly, everything was arranged, and the next night was set apart for the undertaking. Our farm was selected as the rendezvous, and every man was ordered to provide himself with a fowling-piece, and plenty of powder and shot. Bill Hurley, the oldest and most experienced one of the band, was selected for the post of captain. I was the lieutenant. Every- thing was kept secret till the next night arrived. We assembled, about an hour before dark, in the woods near our house. All were equipped according to agreement, and Bill Hurley had brought with him something for the party's refreshment — nothing less than a bottle of old rye whiskey, with a long swig of which, we put ourselves in tune for the work. We started, and marched silently and cautiously through 22 254 THE CAMP-FIRE the wood ; each man carrying his fowling-piece in his hand, and the whole party walking in Indian file. Bill Hurley had also brought with him an old horse- trumpet; though for what purpose, he did not ex- plain. After marching about an hour, the captain gave us notice that the picket was not far off, and sent one of the party to reconnoitre, while the rest of us halted till we heard his report. He soon re- turned, and informed us that we were near the edge of the wood, and that directly beyond it was the picket-guard, without the least appearance of prepa- ration for an enemy, or suspicion of the approach of one. The captain immediately gave us directions how we were to make the attack, and exhorted us all to do our duty. We did n't need much exhorting, however; we were too anxious to make the attack. We advanced silently to the edge of the wood, creep- ing among the bushes wherever there was a chance to do so, till we caught sight of the British coats. It was just about twilight; and it was evident, from the manner in which the enemy were disjDosed around — some talking in groups, leaning on their guns ; and others, feeling still more secure than the rest, lying on the ground — that they were unsuspicious of the vicinity of danger. Suddenly, Bill Hurley blew a tremendous blast on the old horse-trumpet, and the whole party of us rushed out of the bushes, yelling and howling like a whole tribe of Indians going into AT MIDDLEBROOK. 255 battle. Our captain cried out, at the top of his voice, * Ground your arms, or you 're all dead men !' and the enemy immediately surrendered. No doubt, they thought half of the American army was upon them, from the noise we made. We soon made sure of their arms, and then marched them off to the American camp, like regular prisoners of war. We laughed and joked the whole way there, about British soldiers surrendering to a few young farmers, who never were on a field of battle in their lives ; and they seemed to feel their degradation. The soldiers in camp wel- comed us with shouts, and we delivered our prisoners into their custody. Few parties ever had a more jolly time of it, than we had that night, after we returned home. We roused up the folks at our house, and had a glorious frolic, in eating and drinking, and dancing. That was only one of our excursions, but it'll do for a specimen." When the New-Yorker had concluded his story, he replenished the fire, and fixed his eyes on it, as a means of diverting attention from himself, as modest men sometimes do, after they have occupied the com- pany with their conversation for a length of time. " That must have been a bold fellow, that captain of yours," observed the backwoodsman. " It takes a confounded sight of pluck, to undertake to capture thirty British soldiers, with twenty farmers, whose only weapons are fowling-pieces." 256 the' camp-fire "He wasn't alone in his boldness," returned the narrator of the incident. " We were all as anxious to attack the picket, and as bold in doing it, as he was." " Well," said Josiah, who had been listening to the story with an incredulity natural to those who are in the habit of violating the truth, " I '11 be darned if I believe it. It ain't one bit more nateral than my story about shootin' that red-coat through two trees, each a foot thick ; you critters would n't swaller that, and I '11 be darned if you ought n't to throw up at this one !" " Come, come," interposed the literary man, " have some conscience, Josiah. This story is very probable. There have been many such incidents during the war. Some have come under my own notice. But nobody can believe your story, because it's impossible for such a feat to be done." " Well," replied Josiah, with the air of a man who, his credit being called in question, considers it of little moment, " hev it your own way, as the man said when he was beatin' his horse, and the horse would turn round." " Yes," said the backwoodsman, " we will have it our own way ; but do n't you beat us with any more such yarns as that, or we '11 beat you !" " Oh, come, do n't let 's have any more talking about the matter. It 's not worth it," observed the AT MIDDLEBROOK. 257 literary gentleman, with his usual decisive judgment. " Will any of you sing ?" No one answering the appeal, the speaker said he would sing, himself, though he had no voice for sing- ing, and, besides, had a bad cold. The company listened to these excuses as things of course, and the volunteer, after sundry other indispensable prelimi- naries, proceeded with a song very popular during the Revolutionary war, and which, he said, would do more credit to his patriotism than his literary taste. The day is broke; my boys, push on, And follow, follow Washington, 'Tis he that leads the way, 'Tis he that leads the way; When he commands, we will obey. Through rain or snow, by night or day, Determined to be free. Determined to be free. Kind Providence our troops inspires With more than Greek or Roman fires. Until our cause prevails. Until our cause prevails. Heaven has favor'd a virtuous few. The tyrant's legions to subdue; For justice never fails, For justice never fails. 22* R 258 THE*CAMP-FIRE Witt heart and hand, and God our trust, We'll freely fight — our cause is just. Push on, my boys, push on, Push on, my boys, push on! Till Freedom reigns, our hearty bands WiU fight like true Americans, And follow, follow Washington, And follow, follow Washington. " That 's one of the songs of '76," remarked the smger, when he had concluded. " That was written soon after the surrender of the Hessians, at Tren- ton." " We 're to credit it to you, as original, I suppose ?" asked the New-Yorker. "You needn't mind that," replied the literary man. The song will do tolerably well to amuse a mess like this, but nothing more." " Ah ! I see how it is — your modesty prevents you from claiming it," said the New-Yorker. " Well," said the literary man, anxious to divert attention from his song, " some of you must follow. Josiah, can't you give us a song ? we 're not hard to please." "Oh," replied Josiah, "my singin's so orful bad; oesides, I do n't know nothin' but ' Yankee Doodle,' and ^ Come out, ye Continentallers.' " " Well, we ain't tired of hearin' them 'ere songs ; AT MIDDLEBROOK. 259 just drive ahead with one of 'em," said the back- woodsman. "Anything to keep the pot a b'ilin'," added one of the Yankees. Cheered on by these observations, Josiah sang, in the peculiarly nasal tones of the people of New Eng- land, the following song : — COME OUT, YE C ONTINENT ALLERS . Come out, ye continentallers ! We're going for to go To fight the red-coat enemy, Who 're plaguy "cute," you know. Now, shoulder whoop ! — eyes right and dress — Front ! -T- Davis, wipe your nose — Port whoop ! — that 's slick — now, carry whoop ! Mike Jones, turn out your toes. Charge bag'net ! — that's your sort, my boys : Now, quick time ! — march ! — that 's right ; Just so we'd poke the enemy, If they were but in sight. Halt ! — shoulder whoop ! — stop laughing, Nick — By platoons, wheel ! — halt — dress ! Hold up your muzzles on the left; No talking, more or less. Bill Sneezer, keep your canteen down, We're going for to travel; 260 THE CAMP-FIRE "Captain, I wants to halt a bit, My shoe is full of gravel/ Ho ! — strike up, music — for'ard march ! Now point your toes. Bob Rogers; See ! yonder are the red-coat men — Let fly upon 'em, sogers. The men laughed over this song for about the hundredth time. It pictures the first marching of some of the " awkward squad," enlisted for the con- tinental service, and was intended to ridicule the militia in general. "That's a never-tirin' song," observed the back- woodsman. "Almost as good as Yankee Doodle," added Josh. " I wonder if Josh did n't belong to that company ?" enquired the New-Yorker. "Ah, you oughter seen our company the day we left Longville," returned Josiah. " Sich a time among the gals and their fellers, and sich a fixin' o' guns and rusty swords, a-tryin' to look smart, was never seen on airth afore." " You were a fierce-looking set of men, no doubt," observed the literary man ; and then, wishing to give a more instructive turn to the conversation, he asked Josiah where the first place at which they were en- gaged was. " Newport was the first place where we were put AT MIDDLEBROOK. 261 in service. It was last August. There it was that that 'tarnal French count backed out with his fleet," replied Josiah. " Can't you give us some account of that attack, and the reason of its failure ?" continued the literary man. • " Well," answered Josiah, " the reason of the thing's fallin' through, was nothin' more nor less than the backin' out of the French mountseers, as I told you afore. It warn't the fault of our troops, no how. But I '11 tell you how it was, and all abeout it. You see. General Sullivan commanded the troops at Pro- vidence, in Rhode Island ; and when it was agreed that there should be an attack on Newport, to be joined in by the army of Sullivan and the fleet of the Frenchmen, all the militia in the country went to help in it — our company among the rest ; so that Sullivan soon had an army of ten thousand men. "We were also joined by Lafayette and General Greene. The army marched from Providence to Tiverton, under the command of Greene. It was agreed be- tween Sullivan and the French count, — Desting, I think they called him, — that they should land their forces at Portsmouth, on the 10th, in the morning. The Britishers were commanded by Sir Robert Pigot, and were abeout six thousand strong. On the 9th, we received news that the enemy had left their works on the north end of the island on which Newport 262 the' camp-fire stands, and had retreated inside of their lines, abeout three miles from Newport. Sullivan concluded to push over to the island at once, without minding the bargain wdth Desting. So, about eight o'clock, the right wing of the army, under Greene, began to cross from Tiverton, and the rest of us followed. I forgot to tell you that John Hancock was the major-general of the Massachusetts militia. When we landed, we took post on the heights at the north end of the island. There we encamped; but we had a hard time of it. The militia didn't think about such sogerin' as that, when we used to parade in Longville. It blew abeout the hardest, and rained abeout the hardest, on the 12tli, that ever I did see. Towards night, the wind and rain increased. We couldn't keep a tent standing, to save us. Even the generals, who oughter fare better than anybody else in the army, couldn't keep their marquees about their heads. I was wet to the skin, and e'enamost blowed away. Several of the militia were killed by bein' struck in the head with tent-poles, and some by the hail-stones, which, some du say, were as big as two- pound cannon-balls." The men held up their hands in astonishment at the monstrosity of the statement, and some whistled in a low tone. "I say. Josh," put in the backwoodsman, "how did you happen to keep clear of those hail-stones ?" AT MIDDLEBROOK. 263 " Oh, it 's not for me to explain these things, I 'm only tellin' you the fact. But, as I was sayin', several of the militia were killed. A good many of the horses were either drowned, or killed in the same way as the men. The best part of our amminition was damaged by the water. Indeed, we were in as hard a condition as one could think of The enemy had been in better quarters than we had, and when the storm cleared away, on the 14th, there was a first-rate chance for them to whip us. But as they didn't try it, we spent all that day in dryin' our clothes and the amminition, and fixin' ourselves for a march. The next mornin', we set out at six o'clock, and took post about two miles from the enemy's lines. There we rested till the 20th, when we opened two four-gun batteries. About two o'clock that afternoon, we discovered the French fleet standin' for Newport, and, at seven o'clock. General Greene and Lafayette went on board of one of the French ships, to consult with Desting and his officers. I 've heard tell, since, that the count was willin' enough to go into Newport harbor, but his officers were a kind of cross-grained, and wouldn't agree to it; so, instead of helpin' us through with the expedition, he sailed for Boston, on the 22d. That was a miserable botchin' piece of business. Between two and three thousand of the volunteers left us in twenty-four hours; and they continued to go off, till our whole force was only a 264 THE. CAMP-FIRE little more than that of the red-coats. There was nothin' left for us to do, then, but to retreat ; because we hadn't force enough to storm the works, nor wouldn't have had, if the volunteers had all re- mained ; seein' that the biggest part of 'em had never seen a battle. Accordin'ly, by the 26th, all the spare heavy artillery and baggage were sent off the island, and on the night of the 28th, the army began to move to the north end. It had been resolved, in a council of war, to move the army there, and then to fortify the ground, and hold it till we should find out whether there was any chance of the French fleet comin' back. We marched all night, and arrived on the ground about three o'clock in the mornin', with all our baggage and cetera. About seven, we were surprised by a brisk fire of musketry in our front, between our advanced troops and the enemy, who had pushed out after us, when they found out that we were retreatin'. I was with the brigade of militia under General Lovell ; and, without any braggin', we did our duty that day. Our advanced troops stood the fire for some time, and paid the red-coats in their own coin ; but they were obliged to give way before the numbers of the enemy. They kept up a pretty orderly fire as they fell back, till the}^ were reinforced; when they halted, and fought for awhile so obstinate, that they give the red-coats a check. More of our troops were sent to their help, and the Britishers AT MIDDLEBROOK. 265 were driven back; but that was only for a little while. More trooj)s reinforced them, and our men were driven back near to the front line of the main army, which had been drawn up in order of battle. We had a redoubt on our right, which was our ad- vanced post. This the Britishers tried to get at three times ; but they were each time driven back by our brave boys ; the last time, they were awfully cut up. The artillery fired during the whole day, and the musketry for about six hours ; and it 's the greatest wonder to me that there was n't more killin' done than there was. After the retreat of the Britishers, neither of the armies could approach the field without bein' raked by the cannon; so we couldn't do any more that night. The next mornin', Sullivan got news that Besting, the French count, could n't come, as he expected, with his troops and help us ; and also, that Lord Howe, the English admiral, had sailed again. He then decided to leave Rhode Island ; and, mind I tell you, that was a nice job to undertake. The sentinels of the two armies were within about four hundred yards of each other, and you may judge what a deal of care it needed to keep 'em from gettin' wind of it. The way we done it was this. A number of tents were brought out and pitched right in sight of the enemy, and the whole army appeared to be fortifyin' the camp. At the same time, the heavy baggage and stores were fallin' back, and carried over 23 266 THE CAMP-FIRE the bay. At dark, the tents were struck, the light baggage and the troops passed down, and by twelve o'clock, the whole army had crossed. We slipped away as quietly as a mouse through a hole in the trap. Lafayette arrived from Boston just as the last part of the army was preparin' to retreat. He brought off the pickets that covered the retreat, without losin' a man, or leavin' a single article behind. It was altogether one of the slickest back-outs ever made anywhere." " Very nicely done, indeed," said the literary man. " Yes ; but though the retreat was nice enough, that ain't what we went there for," returned Josiah. " We counted sure on takin' Newport, and we got cheated out of it by the 'tarnal Mountseers." "Oh, well," said the literary man, "the Mountr seers, as yon call them, are good enough sometimes, and we ought to be thankful for their assistance in this war." " Give me the Yankee nation, in a fightin' time," said Josiah. " These Mountseers may be well enough sometimes, but their conduct on that partic'lar 'casion kind o' riled me." " Der Frenchmen is goot." observed the Conestoga farmer, who had been grumly listening to the con- versation. No doubt he had seen some of the bravery of Lafayette. " Yes," replied the literary man, " the French are AT MIDDLEBROOK. 267 a brave nation. They are our friends now — the very time when we need friends. A braver man than Lafayette never lived, and I've seen a good many more of them who were almost as good soldiers as he is. But, come, it must be getting late. We had better fix the fire, and turn in for the night. We can afford to leave the French to vindicate them- selves from any aspersions upon their character. I think they '11 do it before long." Those of the party who were generally idle lis- teners to the conversations of the rest of the mess, gathered themselves up at this remark of the ruling spirit, and the whole party were soon safely stowed for the night, there being no undressing to occupy the time, where the bed consisted of a little straw and a blanket. THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. The details of the attacks on the frontier settle- ments, by the tories and Indians, present us with all that cruelty could invent, or savages could execute. Burning houses, desolated fields, and slaughtered women and children, fill up the awful scenes pre- sented to us by the history of 1778 and '79 particu- larly. All ties of blood, friendship, or love, were forgotten in the pervading dissensions of the whigs and tories. Fathers looked upon their children only as belonging to eitliel' of two parties, and husbands cursed the wives that difiered with them in opinion. This was bad enough ; but it was not all. The tories generally took the field against the opposite party, and calling to their aid the ready Indians, fell upon the defenceless settlements of their particular neigh- borhood, with unrelenting cruelty, devastating all within their reach or power. At length, stimulated by the entreaties of the frontier settlers of Pennsyl- vania, who took side with the whigs, and also by a desire to revenge the horrible butchery at Wyoming, (268) CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 269 it was determined to get up an expedition into the infested region. The object of this expedition was not only the punishment of the Indians, but the destruction of several settlements belonging to tories who had become particulaily obnoxious by former cruelties. The party consisted of a Pennsylvania regiment, covered by riflemen and rangers, and was commanded by Colonel William Butler. The men were obliged to carry six days' provision on their backs, and, thus loaded, to endure all the hardships incident to a march through an unsettled region. The party started on the 1st of October, 1778, from the town of Schoharie, and having gained the head of the Delaware, marched down that river for two days; whence they struck off to the right, and crossed the mountains, to get to the Susquehanna. They accomplished this march by enduring all that could be expected of men who had been accustomed to the wilderness, when, the riflemen and rangers excepted, they were unused to it. They were obliged to wade through rivers and creeks scarcely passable by men without encumbrance. After the toil of a hard march, they had to endure chilly nights and heavy rains, without the means of keeping their arms and ammunition dry. The detachment arrived, at last, on the Susquehanna, and then proved that their march was made to some purpose. For several miles, 23* 270 THE CAMP-FIRE on both sides of the Susquehanna, they totally burnt and destroyed all the Indian castles and villages, and the tory settlements. The inhabitants, both tories and Indians, had received intelligence of the expedi- tion, and effected their escape before the arrival of the party. All their winter stock was either de- stroyed, or captured for the use of the men, and deso- lation dwelt where before was life and plenty. But, severe as was the vengeance which the detachment wreaked on the aggressors and their property, it did not satisfy some of the men belonging to the party. There were some among the rangers and riflemen, who had felt the desolation with which the tories and Indians had visited the settlements, and the blood of their wives, and children, and friends, was still un- avenged, and they could not be satisfied till it was. This induced many of them to join in the extermi- nating expedition of General Sullivan, which marched into the Indian country in the next year. Having executed all that lay in their power, the party prepared to return. But this was a difficult undertaking. The continual heavy rains had caused a sudden rising of the creeks and the Susquehanna, and the detachment was running short of provisions. The crossing of the Susquehanna would at other times have been deemed impracticable ; but their case was a desperate one, and they attempted to pro- cure horses, for the purpose of mounting the men, ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 271 and fording the river in that way. A number of horses had been left behind by the Indians, in their haste to escape, and these were secured. It was a clear, cool, October evening, while the party of Colonel Butler were encamped on the western bank of the Susquehanna. There was no moon, but the stars seemed ambitiously striving to supply her sweet and gentle beams. The troops were stationed in a wood, on the gently-elevated bank, and among the almost deserted boughs of the trees, the curling smoke from a number of fires was ascending. The swollen stream was dashing violently along, as if proud of its additional strength. The evening was one that the party could appreciate, after the cold, rainy weather they had endured. A single tent was all they could boast of possessing, and that was re- served for the officers of the party. Each fire had its group, composed of the men belonging to the Penn- sylvania regiment, and the riflemen and the rangers, indiscriminately mixed, as the supper of the men was preparing upon it. At a considerable distance in the wood, sentinels were stationed, to guard against surprise. The river formed a sure defence upon the front. One of the groups, around a fire near the river, deserves our particular regard. It is composed of about a dozen men. Some of them are seated on small logs and stones, which they have brought near 272 THE CAMP-FIRE the fire, and others on the ground. Most of them are dressed in the uniform that bespeaks them mem- bers of the Pennsylvania regiment; while two of them have but the common hunting-shirt and leggings usually worn by the rangers of the woods. All look wearied and travel-worn, with their brown faces and soiled dress. The guns of the group are leaning against the surrounding trees, near at hand, in case of an attack. One of the rangers is leaning his head upon one hand, looking in the fire, as if intently musing. The other is talking to one of the soldiers in uniform. The rest of the men are talking among themselves. "Jackson," says Seth, the ranger last mentioned, "do you think there's even a good chance of our getting over that river there, on horseback? For my part, I 'd rather try to swim it." "Yes, I think there is a very good chance, you may be sure, or I would not risk my life in making the attempt," replied Jackson. " We must get out of this place somehow," con- tinued Seth, without noticing the answer, "and the Colonel says there 's no other way." "Yes," said Jackson, "we must get out of this before our provision gives out ; and there is no other way than by trying to cross the river on horseback. The Colonel is a very prudent and a very shrewd man ; and I 'm sure he 11 bring us out safe, if possible." ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 273 " Then, after we cross the Susquehanna, there 's so many infernal creeks, and they '11 be about twice as high as usual," continued the ranger. " We had work enough to get where we are ; but that 's play to the going-back part of the business." " There 's one thing certain, Seth," said the soldier, " we did n't come for nothing. We 've done a great deal of damage since we've been here, mind I tell you. When the folks that lived hereabouts come back, to hunt for their houses and barns, they '11 be a leetle disappointed, I 'm thinking." " Poor job — poor job," said Jones, the ranger who was leaning on his hand, musing ; " if the thing had been done as I wanted it done, we might have had a chance to throw some of the infernal owners of the houses and barns into their flames. That would have been coming to some purpose ;" and as the ranger emphatically made the last remark, his teeth clenched, and a savage smile lit up his face, that seemed like the glare of a red, demoniac light upon a dark night. " Oh, you want to go as far as the savages them- selves," remarked Jackson. " I hate such butchery, whether perpetrated by the Indians or our own side. It ain't human, at all. I 'm satisfied with what we 've done already." " I won't be," replied Jones. " I can't be, in fact. I never will rest quietly, till some of them have paid S 274 THE 'camp-fire me what they owe me ; and it 's a debt not easy paid, let me tell you. "I can judge what's been going on," said Seth. " You 've suffered some from the tories or Indians." " Yes, some," returned the moody ranger, shortly expressing a great deal more than his companions could comprehend. A short pause ensued, which the soldier was the first to break. " You appear to have suffered a great deal," said he, wishing to draw the ranger's sorrows from their concealment. " I have suffered a great deal from the hell-hounds," replied Jones. " I lived at Wyoming, and our family was large. You can easily guess the rest." " I think I can," said the soldier. " They were murdered at the massacre." " Yes," was the reply. " You talk of showing the tories and Indians mercy. If you had lived at Wyoming and felt their mercy, you never would talk so. All pity would be banished from your heart, and you 'd only wish to come across the miscreants, to cut them down while they cried for mercy. I was there, and saw it all ; and I could almost cut the throat of the man that speaks for them." " I can't say how I would act under such circum- stances," said Jackson, " but I hardly think it would be to act their part, myself" "If it's not too affecting to you to think about ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 275 Wyoming," observed Seth, " I should like to hear the story of the massacre." " I can tell it to you," replied the ranger. " It has ceased to affect me in the way you mean. I cried a very little time, about our family all bein' cut off and leavin' me alone in the world. I always had too much spirit to brood over anything of that kind. I 've never shed a tear since the day after the mas- sacre. My whole attention is taken up in the en- deavor to revenge it ; and I '11 do it, before I 'm dead, you may depend." "Let us hear the story, and then we may judge how far you are right," said Seth. " You shall," replied Jones ; " but let us get our share of the victuals, first." The salt meat was taken from the fire, where it had been cooking, and cut up into slices, which were divided among the men equally. A biscuit to each, was the only article that accompanied it. Our three friends, having received the shares they waited for, set about the work of demolition vigorously. " Now you can go on, Jones," said Seth, with his mouth full. " Yes, now we '11 hear all you know about it," said the soldier. " Well, you shall," was the reply. " You see, our family came to Wyoming among the earliest that settled there. Most of the inhabitants came from 276 THE CAMP-FIRE Connecticut, because that State claimed that part of the country where Wyoming was situated, under some grant or other. Did you ever see the place ?" The two listeners answered negatively. " Well, it 's as pretty a valley as there is in any part of the country. It's just over here, on the eastern branch of the Susquehanna. The country around was settlin' very fast, and everything pro- mised well. It was situated on both sides of the river, and consisted of eight townships, each five miles square. You may judge from that how large it was. The fields were well cultivated, and the land was rich. The settlement was increasing so fast, that we were enabled to send a thousand men to the continental army. We had built four forts, to cover us from the Indians. But, in spite of the forts, it was well known that we had sent a thousand of our best men away from us, and couldn't protect our- selves as we ought, from the attacks of the Indians. Besides, from the commencement of the war, there had been a good many tories among the inhabitants, and they kept us all the time quarrellin'. Last year, some of the worst of the tories in the settlement joined the Indians and marched against us ; but we beat them back, after some hard skirmishin'. About that time, several of the tories left the settlement, and joined the Indians. You see, they had quarrelled with their families, and went away bent on doin' us ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 277 some damage. They knew all about our condition, and they made use of their knowledge. Early this year, a great quantity of strangers came into the settlement, under different excuses ; and some of them acted so suspicious, that they were arrested and examined. The evidence against several of them was so strong, that we all concluded that they were actin' with the enemy, on a scheme for destroyin' the settlement. Twenty of them were sent off to Con- necticut, to be tried for their lives, and all the rest of the strangers were driven out of the settlement. This worked the tories up to the highest pitch, and they threatened the people with vengeance. Our family lived near the river, in Wyoming. It was made up of my father, who was gettin' pretty old, my mother, and four brothers and sisters. One of these brothers said boldly he was one of the tories, and we often quarrelled about it. I was a complete whig, and did n't want him to talk in the way he did in our house. All our family sided with me, and, at last. Bill got so quarrelsome and violent, that we put him out of the house, and told him never to come back again until he turned whig. He said we 'd see him one of these days, and he would n't come as a whig, either." " Did n't that frighten the family ?" asked Seth. "No, they didn't think much about it, just then; they hated Bill too much," answered the ranger. 24 278 THE CAMP-FIRE " He went away, and I never saw him any more. Well, for several weeks before the massacre, small parties were sent to the settlement, to try to lull us into feelin' secure. They professed to have the strongest friendship for us. I think they wanted to concert with the tories that were in the settlement, and to see how things were goin' on. However, w^ knew the scoundrels well enough, not to believe them Colonel Zeb Butler commanded our force, and he wrote to Congress and to General Washington, asking them to send us some help; but his letters never reached Congress or Washington ; they were inter- cepted by the tories. A few days before the main attack, some small parties made attacks on the settle- ment, and committed some horrible murders. One of these parties butchered the wife and five children of one of their own friends, who had been sent to Connecticut." " Was it through mistake ?" enquired the soldier. " I do n't know," was the reply ; " but it 's ten to one it wasn't. They didn't think about savin' a wife and children, because the father was a friend to them. There was too many wives who had the courage and the sense to think different from their husbands. It's twenty to one, it wasn't through mistake. At length, on the 1st of July, the enemy appeared on the Susquehanna, in full force. They numbered about sixteen hundred men, of which ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 279 over a quarter were Indians ; the rest were tories, painted and dressed like Indians. The whole party was commanded by Colonel John Butler, a cousin of Colonel Zeb Butler. Most of the prominent tories were with him ; and I do n't think a fiercer or more bloodthirsty set of men ever joined together for any purpose. The Indians were under the command of Brandt, a half-breed. I do n't feel so savage at these Indians, because one couldn't expect anything else from them. It 's them infernal hounds that led them to butchering* their own families and friends. One of the small forts was betrayed into the hands of the enemy by its own garrison, who were nearly all tories. Another was taken by storm, and all that were in it, except the women and children, were butchered in the most horrible manner. This fort was a short distance from the village of Wyoming. On the 3d of July, a council of war was held, to con- sider whether we should march out of Fort Wilks- barre and attack the enemy ; and it was finally agreed that we should. Accordin'ly, the same day, we marched out, in two lines ; one under the command of Colonel Zeb Butler, and the other under Colonel Dennison. I was with Butler's line. Spies were sent forward, and they soon discovered two Indians, who were out on the same business for the other army. The scouts fired upon each other ; but no one was hurt, and they returned to the main body. Both 280 THE CAMP-FIRE armies then moved forward, and joined battle near a thick swamp. The line commanded by Dennison advanced against Brandt, and our line against that of our commander's cousin. Their army was so far superior to ours, that they out-flanked us, and Brandt and the Indians came out of the swamp, and turned our left flank. This made so much confusion, that the Indians made sad havoc among Dennison's men. We bore up against the numbers of the tories for a considerable time. But the turning of our left flank was too much for us. Colonel Dennison ordered his troops to fall back, in order to make some evolution ; but the men were already confused, and they thought he wanted them to retreat, and they broke and fled. We could n't stand then — there was too few of us. So we followed, and the Indians pursued us. I tell you, men, the carnage was horrible. The Indians would knock the men down, and scalp them in a minute's time. I only got into the fort, by knocking down, with the butt-end of my musket, a big Indian that came yelling close to me." " How many escaped ?" asked Seth. " I guess, about a hundred in all," replied the ranger. " Colonel Butler and Colonel Dennison were among them. Our commander was still anxious to keep up the resistance to them. The fort we fled to, was called Fort Wilksbarre. The commander thought the fort on the other side of the river, where all the ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 281 old men, and the women and children, were placed, was the best to stand a siege. So we left a few to guard Fort Wilksbarre, and crossed the river, with four hundred men, and took post in Fort Kingston, as it was called. There we were closely besieged till next day, when Colonel Zeb Butler proposed a parley with his cousin, to see what terms he could arrange with him. His cousin agreed to it. The place ap- pointed for the meeting was an open field, so far from the fort as to be beyond protection from it. Our commander suspected the designs of his cousin, and he took with him about four hundred men, of which I w^as one, to guard against treachery. This was nearly the whole garrison. When we arrived at the place appointed for the meeting, nobody was waiting there. Far ahead of us, at the foot of a mountain, we saw a flag. If he had taken a moment's thought. Colonel Butler would have turned back. He said that they seemed afraid of treachery on his side ; for the holders of the flag fell back as we moved forward. On we went, till we got very near the flag, when a yell was heard, and we found ourselves surrounded. We stood firm, and delivered our fire so heavy and true, for three quarters of an hour, that we seemed to have the advantage' of them. But, just then, one of the men cried out, ^ The Colonel has ordered a re- treat !' and then the day was lost. The whole party fell into confusion, and the enemy broke in on all 24* 282 THE CAMP-FIRE sides ; and while some of the men begged for quarter, they were hewn down and scalped. Many tried to escape, and were cut down in the attempt. The slaughter was dreadful beyond anything you ever heard of, I know. Again I was one of the lucky ones. About seventy of us escaped from the hands of the devils, and made our way across the river. Some of them were cut and bruised in a good many places. Colonel Butler made his way to Fort Kings- ton, while the rest of us went to Fort Wilksbarre." " What an infernal set of rascals !" ejaculated Seth. " That Colonel John Butler ought to be roasted alive, as I 've heerd the Indians serve their prisoners." " Roasted ! that 's too easy a death for such a wretch !" returned the ranger. " The man who could so entrap his own cousin and his own people, and then butcher them in such a way, ought to be " but the speaker seemed perplexed in the invention of a torment sufficient for the wretch. " It was a horrible action," observed Jackson, " but I've heard of his deeds before, and I know one couldn't expect anything better. He don't appear to have a heart." " I '11 find it, if ever I 'm so lucky as to meet him !" returned the ranger, fiercely. "But all that I've been telling you is nothing, compared with what 's to come. Fort Kingston was invested by the enemy, and they kept up a continual fire all day ; and to put ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 283 our little band in as low spirits as possible, they sent into the fort, for us to look at, no less than one hun- dred and ninety-six bloody scalps. I almost sickened at the sight." " So would any one who had any feelin' at all," said Seth. " Well, that same night, Colonel Zeb Butler took his family, left the fort, and escaped down the river," continued the ranger. " I do n't see how he done it, unless through the permission of his cousin. I do n't want to say he acted anything like a traitor, but it looks much like a cowardly action.' However, he was about the only officer that escaped. The next day, that was the 5th of July, I think. Colonel Den- nison, who succeeded to the command, seein' that there was no chance for making a good defence, went with a flag to Colonel John Butler, to know what terms he would grant if we surrendered. I went out with him, and saw the infernal bloodhound when he answered, ' the hatchet !' He did n't look like a human bein' at all. Such a fierce, devilish smile he had on his face, when he made answer. We returned to the fort ; and then they attacked it with yells and and howls, like tigers wanting to get at their prey. We defended the fort till most of the men were killed or wounded, and the Colonel resolved to surrender at discretion. I suppose he thought there was still some chance of escape from bein' murdered, by giving up 284 THE CAMP-FIRE the fort. I did n't, and wanted to die fightin' there, in the fort. I knew there was no mercy in the devils. He surrendered the fort, and then the hatchet done its work. About fifty of the women, and four or five men, of whom I was one, were all that es- caped out of that fort. There was, at the time of the surrender, at least two hundred women and fifty men, alive in it. I don't think more than sixty escaped. I stood before our family, along with one of my brothers, by the name of Morton ; and when I saw Bill and some other tories comin' towards us, I knew he was bent on doin' as the rest of them did. They rushed on us and cut my brother down, but I struck Bill across the face with my musket, and cleared my way to the openin' in the fort. I saw him fall, and I hardly think he ever got up again." " The whole of your family were butchered, then ?" enquired Seth. " Yes, every one fell by the hands of the blood- hounds. I saw the tories lay hands on them, as I escaped through the open gate of the fort. The old man was on his knees, praying, and the smallest children were hangin' around him, cryin'. Oh ! but they shall pay for it all, two or three times over ! All I ask is to have a fair field against them, and that old man's prayer will help me to cut them down like sheep !" The ranger's teeth and hands were clenched savagely, and he seemed to be thrilled al- ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 285 most 'beyond bearing, with the desire of revenge. His companions were evidently affected by his man- ner and his narrative ; though the same feelings could not fill their breasts to the extent they did the eye-witness of the horrid massacre, and one who had seen his relatives slaughtered. " I got away from the fort, and made my escape to the woods safely. I heard that the wretches, thinkin' they could n't kill their victims fast enough, put them in the houses and barracks, and then set fire to them. A few were kept for other tortures. They then crossed the river, to Fort Wilksbarre, and the gar- rison surrendered without making any conditions. There was about seventy continental soldiers in the fort, who had enlisted for the defence of the frontier, and these they slaughtered to a man, with all the horrible inventions they could think of. The women and children were shut up in the houses, the same as before, and then burnt to death in that way. I was safe in the woods, then, but I afterwards came across a man who escaped the whole of it, by hidin' in a small wood-shed till night ; and he told me all their bloody doin's after I got away. He said they stuck some of their prisoners full of splinters of pine, and set them on fire, and some they threw into the flames, and held them down till they were roasted to death. They even shot th^ cattle, and cut out the tongues of some of them, and let them live in torment." 286 THE CAMP-FIRE " Could they be men ?" asked Jackson. " No, they were devils. The devil himself could not have acted more fiendishly/' returned Seth. " I think I could shoot such wretches down without any pity. I 'd think I was doing good to my fellow beings." " I thought you 'd change your sentiments," said the ranger. " For my part, I act just as I feel. I feel that such butchers ought not to live, though I could not tell why." " Well, I suppose they levelled all the houses, and wasted and destroyed all the fields, after that ; did n't they ?" enquired Seth. " Yes," was the reply ; " they destroyed everything but the houses of the tories. The crops were nearly ripe, but they were all destroyed. This friend I told you about, was near the place about a month ago, and walked over the ground in the night. Every- thing is in ruins, he says, and the ground where the most of the people were slaughtered still bears the red stains of their blood. The forts were burnt to the ground. No one would have thought the settle- ments in the valley ever had been so large and pros- perous as they were. The whole place was almost deserted." " How did you manage to travel through the woods such a distance as you must have gone before you arrived at a settlement ?" enquired the soldier. 24 ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 287 " Oh, friend, I can hardly tell you. I came across some women and children, wandering like myself, with only one man with them. I kept with this small party, because the women and children needed protection, and I wanted company. The party con- sisted of four women, belonging to different families, and some few children, who had lost their parents in the massacre. The young man and myself formed their only guard. We wandered through the woods, living on berries and roots, for about two weeks, be- fore we arrived at the first settlement at Northamp- ton. We picked up two or three other women on the way, almost worn down with hunger and tra- vellin'. Two of the women got sick, to make it worse, and then we had to wait till they were able to go on. My friend and myself had a hard time of it, I tell you. We were weak and tired, ourselves, yet we had to find food for the women and children, the best part of the time. One poor little girl, that had lost her father and mother in the massacre, grew so weak that she could n't go any further with us ; and, as a lucky thing, she died very soon afterwards. We had to leave the body in the woods, and push on as fast as we could, for we were all weak for want of something to eat, and sleeping in the damp woods. I was n't used to it then, as I am now, and could n't stand much more than the women. Well, we arrived at a settlement at last, and there we found a few 288 THE CAMP-FIRE more of the wanderers from Wyoming. The settlers were all kind to us, and gave the women and children all the care they needed ; but I think that some of them did n't need attention long. The fright and the horror they had been made to feel, was too much, when it was added to the toil and hunger they en- dured in the wilderness." " I do n't suppose they did," said the soldier. It 's a wonder they fled at all, seein' that all that belonged to them had been murdered, and they were alone in the world." " Was n't there one of your relations saved ?" en- quired Seth. " Not one," was the reply. " I wanted to go back to the place where they were murdered, but never could get any of my fellow rangers to join me. The tories are too thick for me to go alone. I 'd like to see if I could find their bodies, or anything belongin to them, that I might keep for their sake ; and I '11 see, before long, if I go alone." " I '11 go with you," said Seth. " I 'm anxious to see the scene of such a massacre ; and I know one, at least, of the rangers, that will be glad to go with us. If we can get together a small party, we '11 try what mischief we can do." " Will you ?" asked Jones, joyfully ; " then I '11 try how many I can persuade to join us, and we '11 give them a taste of their own game. Oh, I feel able to ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. 289 meet a half a dozen of the cowardly wretches, my- self! You'll go, certain; will you?" " I will," answered Seth ; " there 's my hand on it." The ranger shook the proffered hand heartily. "Now," said he, "I'll pay my score. Come, let's go and see how the others like the project." The two arose from their seats and walked away, leaving Jackson to seek the company of some of the others. About twenty of the rangers were found willing to join Jones in his visit to Wyoming, and it was agreed that they all should accompany the party of Butler as far back as the nearest settlement, and then leave them, and, after getting provisions enough to last them a few weeks, set out for Wyoming. They proposed to cut off small parties of tories and Indians, and to rob and murder their families, when- ever opportunity offered. This should not be won- dered at ; for most of them had suffered from the at- tacks of the Indians and tories, during the previous year. After these measures were agreed to, the men retired to rest upon the bare ground, near the fires. The night was more favorable for repose, than any they had yet experienced, and they all took advan- tage of it. The next morning, the whole party crossed the Susquehanna, on horseback ; an exploit of great diffi- culty. In many places, the horses had to swim, and the current of the river was very rapid. They all 25 T 290 CAMP-FIRE ON THE SUSQUEHANNA. landed safely, however, and started on their march across the mountains, by which they escaped the trouble of crossing various swollen creeks. The rangers left them at the first settlement, according to agreement, and set about preparing for their own expedition. The rest of Butler's command returned to Schoharie, whence they had started, where they were received by the firing of thirteen rounds of cannon, and a feu de joie. They had been absent for sixteen days, and most of the time had been on short allowance of provisions ; but they had succeeded in their design, and that repaid them for their toil. THE CAMP-FIRE AT SPRINGFIELD. It was the night of the 23d of June, 1780. The British army, which had crossed over from New York into Jersey, with the object of marching to Morristown and capturing the stores there, had met a severe check at Springfield, and had retreated, pur- sued by the militia. Early in the afternoon, General Greene had been compelled to fall back, by the press of superior numbers, and had taken position on a range of hills, where the two roads, along which the enemy had advanced in two columns, are brought so near to a point, that succour could readily be given from one to the other. In this commodious position, Greene had waited, in the expectation that the enemy would have attempted to gain the heights. But they had wisely declined, and, for satisfaction, set fire to the village of Springfield, containing about fifty houses. They retreated, no doubt, because of the strength of General Greene's situation, and the uncer- tainty of the amount of his force. Greene continued in his strong position that night. (291) 292 THE CAMP-FIRE The night was a clear, moonlight one. Along the tops of the range of hills upon which the army was posted, the watch-fires were burning brightly, con- trasting strangely with the pure, silver light of the moon. A short distance in front of the heights, might be seen the smouldering ruins of the once beautiful village of Springfield, desolated by the ruthless hand of the enemy. Upon the eminence farthest upon the Yauxhall road. Major Lee, with his dragoons and the pickets, was posted. That little band had that day fought bravely. They had maintained a pass called ^ The Little Bridge,' against a greatly superior force, for a considerable time ; and in the end, it was only forced from its position by the enemy fording the river, and gaining the point of a hill. It was a part of that legion which, afterwards, was so distinguished in the South, and known as " Lee's legion." It being certain that the enemy had retreated beyond Elizabethtown, the feeling of secu- rity from attack relaxed, in some degree, the strict discipline under which the men were held, and they were now standing and sitting about the tents in groups, engaged in conversation. Near a small fire, upon the edge of the height, a group of men were half-sitting, half-lying on the ground. It consisted of five men — two dragoons and three picket-men — and they were lying in a sort of semicircle, evidently looking at the fast-paling embers of Springfield. AT SPRINGFIELD. 293 "Caldwell," said one of the picket-guard, "what poor spite such work as that is, anyhow ! No doubt these rascals imagine that they make themselves feared by doing such deeds." " Yes, I suppose that is their object,' replied Cald- well. "But I think the owners showed 'em they were a little out in their calculations. I 'm told the militia pursued 'em till near sunset, when they got into Elizabeth town." " Well, if they did," said Hickey, another of the picket-guard, " they 've made sure work of some of them, I know. These farmers and villagers know something about aiming a rifle." "It seems to me," said the first speaker, named Jones, " that this is the very course that '11 help us along. If they had any knowledge of how things work, they might know that their true policy, to in- jure our cause, is to treat the people of the country in such a way as to make them like them. They do n't seem to know that like breeds like." " If they would treat the people as they oughter," remarked the dragoon, named Dayton, " they really might put a damper on our prospects." " Yes, if they 'd treat the people as they ought to, there would be no use of fightin'," added Hickey. "Oh, we know that," returned Dayton; "but I mean now, while we're fightin'. If they'd happen to smooth over things with the people, by doin' 'em 25* 294 THE CAMP-FIRE favors and kindnesses, they might soon bring 'em under their yoke again. But burnin' their houses will only make 'em stronger friends of the Congress." " I understand what you mean," said Hickey, " but you did n't say that." ^' Well, I said enough to make you understand me, and that's the end of talkin'," replied Dayton. " It strikes me," remarked the picket-guard who had not yet spoken, who was called Brown, "it strikes me, that the red-coat general went back a leetle dashed. I think, by the way he marched here, he thought he was going to do wonders." "Ah," said Caldwell, "that little stand of ours, at the bridge yonder, give him a taste of what sort of fighting he might expect us to do. We 're the boys' that can do it, too. I don't want to brag of our troop, but it 's just my opinion, that there 's not a regiment of men in the army that will dare more, or accomplish more, than this same troop of dragoons." " No ; nor there 's not a more daring or more skilful leader than Major Henry Lee," added Dayton. " Well, you can brag as much as you please," said Jones. " Your troop is as good as any other, I sup- pose, but not a whit better. Major Lee may be all you say, but I can mention five or six, at least, who are his equals, if not superiors." " Mention one," said Caldwell, " who you think is his equal, if not his superior." AT SPRINGFIELD. 295 " General Wayne," replied Jones. " I suppose you admit it ; do n't you ?" " Ye — yes," said Caldwell. '* He is his equal, but not his superior." " General Morgan," continued Jones. " He is an- other ;— is n't he ?" *' Morgan is certainly a brave and skilful man," was the reply. "You mustn't understand me to wish to detract from the merits of any of these" officers. They are all good in their way ; but there 's something so dashing and so enterprising about Lee, that it makes me prefer him to them all." " I suppose the reason of that is, because you fight under him always. You do n't have a chance to see the bravery and skill of the others," said Jones. " That may be," replied Caldwell ; " but it 's a fact, nevertheless. I prefer him to all the other officers that are so much praised." " "Was you in the troop at the storming of Stony Point, last year ?" asked Hickey. " Yes, I was there, as Dayton can tell you," replied Caldwell. " Dayton was alongside of me." " To be sure, I was," said Dayton ; " and at Paulus Hook, too." " I 've heard that General Wayne's bravery and generalship on that night, could not be surpassed," observed Hickey. " No ; but his bravery was equalled by every other 296 THE CAMP-FIRE officer that had the same chance of showing it," re- plied Caldwell. " Yes/' added Dayton, " the two officers that com- manded the forlorn hope were as brave as any men that ever walked up to a roarin' cannon's mouth." " They all done their duty well," continued Cald- well. "Caldwell," said Jones, "can't you give us an account of the affair? It wpn't take you a great while ; and then we '11 make Dayton tell us about the taking; of Paulus Hook." " If you can," struck in Dayton. " But let 's have your story, Caldwell." " I 've no objection to telling you all I know about the matter," replied Caldwell. " But you must make Dayton agree to tell you all about Paulus Hook, or I won't go on. I do n't like to do all the talking my- self" Dayton consented, after much demurring, to ease his comrade of the burden of telling two stories in succession, and Caldwell commenced. " I suppose it will be best to give you an idea of what sort of a place Stony Point is, and how it is approached, first. It is situated, you know, on the Hudson river, twenty miles or more above New York. The river makes a short bend there. It is a small peninsula ; very high and rocky. It can be attacked on three sides, by vessels of war, very easily ; and, AT SPRINGFIELD. 297 for that reason, requires a very strong garrison to defend it. The only way it is approachable from the land, is through a morass and across a sandy beach, which is defended by a slight abattis. There was the remains of a bridge over one part of the morass, but it did n't help to make the passage much easier. You can form some faint idea, from this, what sort of a post we had to capture." " I can see the difficulties you would have to meet," said Jones. " The project was a very daring one." "Who had the credit of planning the attack?" asked Brown. " The design of capturing the post was first started by the commander-in-chief himself," was the reply. " The plan was matured by the counsels of Wayne, Colonel Butler, and Major Henry Lee. You see, at the time the notion was first started, our troop was stationed nearer to Stony Point than any other part of the army was, and Lee's knowledge of the country around the post was more correct and full than that of anybody else. We were posted at a place called Haverstraw, about four miles below Stony 'Point. About the 10th of last July, General Washington reconnoitred the Point, in person, and obtained a pretty correct draft of the works. The plan of attack was then agreed upon, at a conference. I think it was on the morning of the 15th, that our commander received orders to join the light infantry under Gen- 298 THE %AMP-FIRE eral Wayne ; and we were ordered to move as soon as we could get ready. You see, Jones, all the troops engaged in the affair were selected for their bravery and activity." " More bragging," returned Jones. " No, I do n't say it to brag on our troop ; but Gen- eral Wayne said so in his orders before the attack." " I can bear with you," said Jones ; " go on with your story." " Well, we all knew the business we had to do," continued Caldwell, " and I can leave it to Dayton to say whether we were not as anxious to make the attempt as any of the officers were. We were to join General Wayne at Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles from Stony Point; and when we arrived there, we found that all the Massachusetts light infantry had come down from West Point, and the sixth and ninth Pennsylvania regiments, I think it was, were already there. Well, we had the plan of attack and the general orders read to us by the adjutant. I do n't suppose I can remember precisely how the orders run; but if I don't, you can correct me, Dayton. We were to move from our position at twelve o'clock, commencing on the right, and making a short halt at the creek, which we had to cross on our way. No man was to leave the ranks, under any pretence whatever, until a general halt was made." "And then to be attended by an officer of the AT SPRINGFIELD. 299 platoon," interrupted Dayton. " I recollect that very well; for I left them myself, and Corporal Bunn went with me." "Yes, I recollect," was the reply. "Our troop, and some infantry that Wayne had put under Major Lee's command, had n't anything of much account to do. We were, of course, dismounted, and were to act as a reserve, and follow in the rear of the two columns. I read the plan of the attack, soon after the capture, and learned more about it than I could from hearing the adjutant describe it. The right column was formed of Colonel Febinger's regiment, Colonel Meigs' and Major Hull's Massachusetts in- fantry. This column was to be commanded by Gen- eral Wayne himself. The left column was led by Colonel Butler, with Major Murfree in his rear. Then there was to be a sort of feint made in the centre, to draw the attention of the garrison away from the real points of attack. Every one of us, officers and men, was ordered to fix a piece of white paper in a part of his hat or cap where it could be seen, to distinguish him from the enemy. When the word was given to march. Colonel Fleury was to take charge of one hundred and fifty determined and picked men." " Not your troop," said Jones, harping on the same tune, of Caldwell's bragging. " No, not our troop ; but we could have done it as 300 THE CAMP-FIRE well as they did, I guess," replied Caldwell. " But, as I said, Colonel Fleurj was to take charge of one hundred and fifty determined and picked men. These men were to have their muskets unloaded, and to place their whole dependence on the bayonet. They were to move about twenty paces in front of the right column, and to enter the sallyport marked. Colonel Fleury was to detach an officer and twenty men, a little in front, to remove the abattis and secure the gentries. When the works were forced, and not be- fore, the troops were to give the watchword, and drive the garrison from their works and guns. Col- onel Butler's column was to move by another route through the morass, preceded by one hundred picked men, with fixed bayonets. This hundred men were to detach an officer and twenty men a little in front, to remove the obstructions, in the same way as the other party. As soon as they could gain the works, they were to give the watchword, so as to prevent mistake. In the advance, the strictest silence was to be kept by all. The orders concluded with an address to the men, offering a reward of five hundred dollars to the first man who would enter the works, and a promotion besides. The second, third, fourth, and fifth, were also to receive a reward." " That, no doubt, helped considerable to make the troops do their best," observed Hickey. "Yes, I suppose it helped a little; but the men AT SPRINGFIELD. 301 thought they were honored anyhow, by having been picked out for the service ; and besides, General Wayne gave orders to shoot the first man that at- tempted to skulk in the face of danger. Well, every- thing being arranged, we moved off about twelve o'clock, on the 15th. The roads were very narrow and rough, and having to pass over high hills, and through defiles and deep morasses, we had to move in single file for the best part of the way. Besides, the day was one of the hottest I ever felt. It 's a singular thing, that the toil of the march didn't dampen the spirits of the men ; but it shows what sort of spirit animated them." " I felt it a little," said Dayton. " When we got to the bottom of that hill where we halted, I did n't feel like going much further that day." "Well, you didn't go much further that day," replied Caldwell. "It was just dark when we got there. You see, Jones, at the foot of that hill, which was about a mile and a half from the works of the enemy, we were to divide our force into two columns. There we stopped and rested, while General Wayne and some of his officers went forward to look at the works. I think it was about half after eleven o'clock when we moved forward, according to the order I told you we were to move in. The vfin of the left was commanded by Major Walter Stewart, and the party of twenty, who were to remove obstructions, was 26 302 THE CAMP-FIRE under Captain Lawson. The other forlorn hope was commanded by Lieutenant Gibbons, of one of the Pennsylvania regiments. We found the morass over- flowed with water, and then we had a march such as I do n't want to perform again. We sunk in the mud and water almost waist-deep, sometimes, and it was pretty dark at the time. Everything was done as quietly as possible, according to orders ; and the plashing of the water and the whispers of the officers was all that you could hear. It seemed like marching up to meet death ; for it was expected that we 'd lose about every third man. The first noise we heard was about twelve o'clock, when we had come to a halt. We were in the rear of both columns, but could see almost everything that was going on ahead of us. The removing of the abattis and securing the sentinels occupied some time, and then the cannon and the musketry blazed and roared all at once, as if a sudden burst of thunder had broke upon us. By the light, we could see the troops of both columns pushing up the rocks and into the sallyport as if there was no cannon firing." " How they did walk up to the works !" ejaculated Dayton. '' I thought they might fall back, when so many of the forlorn hope were shot down ; but on they went." " Yes ; and amid all that firing, you could see them rushing to get into the works. I saw General Wayne AT SPRINGFIELD. 303 fall while at .the head of the right column, and I thought he was shot dead ; but then two of his aids carried him on into the fort. I heard since, that he said he wanted to die in the fort. We followed on then, as soon as we saw the troops ahead of us getting into the fort, and then you should have heard the watchword, as the men shouted at the top of their voices. I saw some of the men fall back off the rocks, as the column of Butler moved on to the at- tack. Then, by the bright flashing of the musketry, I saw the proud British flag fall. We got to the gate of the sallyport just as the garrison surrendered, and then we give three of the loudest cheers I ever heard. Colonel Fleury had struck the British flag with his own hand, just as the two columns met in the centre of the fort." " How long do you think the fight lasted ?" asked Jones. " Not more than fifteen minutes," was Caldwell's reply. " Only fifteen minutes !" ejaculated Jones. " Why, did n't the garrison number more than your force ?" " No ; we had the superiority in numbers," replied Caldwell. " They had a little over six hundred men, however ; and such a force ought to hold a post like that against three thousand assailants. I 'm sure we could have done it." " How many did they lose ? I suppose you gave 304 THE 'camp-fire them a little taste of Paoli mercy;- didn't you?" enquired Jones. "No; we didn't do any such thing," returned Caldwell. "We leave that to the savages in red coats. We call ourselves Christians, and we act like civilized men. They only had sixty-three killed and thirty-seven wounded; four hundred and . forty -four were marched towards Lancaster, as prisoners, in- cluding their commander, Colonel Johnston. A few of them got off in boats, but they ran a good chance of being taken. I fired at one of the boats ; but I do n't know whether I done any execution or not." " How many did our army lose altogether ?" was the next enquiry. " I believe there was about fifteen killed and eighty wounded ; not any more, I know," returned Caldwell. " Is n't that about it, Dayton ?" " Ye — s," drawled out Dayton, " I guess there was about eighty wounded." Dayton was evidently get- ting sleepy. He was not one of the most active spirits in the world, and the day's marching and fighting had had a very wearying effect on him. " Wayne was only slightly wounded ; was n't he ?" asked Brown. " Yes ; a musket-ball struck him in the head, but did n't do much more than graze the skin, and stun him for a while," was the answer. " The more I hear and see of Wayne, the more I AT SPRINGFIELD. 305 see in him to admire," observed Jones. " I 'd like to serve under him." " Why, ain't you satisfied with your present gen- eral ?" enquired Hickey. " Do you prefer serving under General Wayne, to serving under General Greene ?" " Yes," replied Jones ; " but it 's not because I think he 's a better general, but because he fights in a way more to my taste. General Greene is a man that will gain his object in the end, even if he suffers defeat in action ; pretty much the same as Washing- ton. He may be a wiser man than Wayne. Indeed, I think he is. But I like such fighting as Wayne gives the enemy. He goes into action with the de- termination to conquer, or to fall in the attempt." "Yes, tliat's all very well for them as likes it," returned Hickey. " But, in my opinion, it 's a good deal more sensible to retreat, when you find there 's no chance of conquerin'. It saves life, and them as lives can pay the enemy when there 's a better chance. Hurrah for Greene ! I say." " What do you go into battle for, if not to win ?" asked Jones. " Generals hazard a battle very often, when there 's no chance of winning," observed Caldwell. " Some- times it is done merely to give a superior force a check." Jones found the arguments too many for him, but 26* u 306 THE CAMP-FIRE still persisted in opposing his blank denial, although satisfied that what they said was true. " Men ought n't to go into a fight without resolving to whip the foe, or be whipped. I hate this way of backing out, when you see the enemy has a little advantage," continued Jones. " Who got the five-hundred-dollar reward at Stony Point ?" asked Brown, wishing to put an end to the discussion. " Ah, that point was n't settled," replied Caldwell. " You know both columns got into the fort about the same time. Of course, it was easy to tell who was at the head of each column, but not so easy to say which was in the fort first. I never heard who got the money." " The capture of the post was hardly worth the men it cost," said Jones. " You had to give it up almost as soon as you took it." " We did n't keep it a great while, that 's true," returned Caldwell, " but then you must remember what a quantity of stores we captured, and how many prisoners were taken." " How much ammunition and stores did you find ?" enquired Jones. " Why, fifteen cannon and mortars were captured, with ammunition enough to last our troop and some of the other regiments for two months," replied Cald- well. " Then there was a great variety of military AT SPRINGFIELD. 307 articles that we wanted, and some baggage. The baggage, I think, was burnt when we destroyed the works, two or three days after the capture. Was n't it, Dayton?" As Caldwell made this appeal and waited in vain for an answer, he looked in the direction of the place where Dayton had been sitting, and discovered that individual stretched at full length on the grass, having forgot his cares and toils in slumber. " Well, I '11 be hanged if that is n't a sleepy con- cern," remarked Hickey. " He was going to tell us about the capture of Paulus Hook, so fast." "1 knew he wouldn't," said Caldwell. "You'll get no story out of him to-uight." " Come, Dayton," said Hickey, giving the slum- bering one a kick, " this is no place for you to go to sleep. Get up and go into your tent." But it required sundry kicks to awaken Dayton from his leaden state -, and when he did yawningly arouse himself, he wanted to know what was the matter. " Matter !" exclaimed Caldwell, " why, the British are upon us. Up, man !" Dayton sprang to his feet as lightly and as quickly as if he had been watching for the enemy. " Where 's the horses ?" enquired he. "Ha, ha!" laughed Jones j "I believe he would fight." 308 THE CAMP-FIRE'AT SPRINGFIELD. " Come, boy," said Caldwell, " we '11 go inside. There's no red-coats about, to disturb you. We'll have that account of Paulus Hook some other time, Jones." "Yes, we'll get it out of him, certain," replied Jones. "Good night, Caldwell; I must go further round, to my post on the height beyond here." The dragoons entered their tent, to seek repose for the night, and Jones proceeded to his post as sentinel. The other two picket-guards, Brown and Hickey, stayed to fix the fire ; and then Brown bade Hickey good night, and repaired to his post on the other side of the height. The moon went down early, making the light of the watch-fires the more necessary ; and Hickey paced up and down in front of the tent of the dragoons, occasionally stopping and gazing at the ruins of the village, from which a scarce distinguishable smoke was still rising. " They'll rue this, certain. Such dealings will have their reward," said he, aloud; and then went on with his lonely, measured walk ; no doubt thinking upon the heart- lessness of the men who would wantonly set fire to the homes of so many humble, peaceable people. THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN. The situation of the encampment at Morristown was well chosen. The surrounding country afforded natural barriers to the approach of an enemy, and being very fertile, furnished ample supplies in the matter of provisions. The portion of the American army encamped at this place, was the Pennsylvania line, under the command of General Wayne. The encampment consisted of rude huts ; which, having been constructed in great haste, to escape the seve- rity of the winter of 1777, were very inconvenient and uncomfortable. The troops entered into winter quarters at this place, in the latter part of November. Although the neighboring country produced an abun- dance of supplies of every kind, the troops were very ill provided for. They nearly all had some portion of their pay in arrears ; and whatever was paid was in a depreciated currency. Their clothing was of the scantiest character, and their protection from the severity of the weather was slight. These circum- stances operated so strongly, some time afterwards, (309) 310 THE CAMP-FIRE as to produce a very serious mutiny ; and, at the time to which we are about to refer, they were the cause of a great deal of discontent. The night was very dark. Scarcely an object could be distinguished, though within a foot of a person. The keen breath of December pierced through the many openings in the huts of the en- campment at Morristown, and kept their occupants huddled as close as ^ssible to their well-heaped fires. Occasionally, the door of one of the huts would open, as some of the occupants went to take their turn as sentinels in the advanced guard-houses ; and then the light of their pine torches would glare redly and fitr fully on the dark scene around, making the blackness of the sky more visible, and increasing sensibly the dreary and uncomfortable appearance of everything. Then, as the men proceeded to their posts, all would subside again into darkness and silence. Let us enter one of these huts, and see how the men are whiling away the dreary time. The one nearest to the outpost of the sentinels will serve us. There are ten men sitting around the fire, which is built in the middle of the hut, on the ground — that forming a great part of the floor of the structure. What boards there were in the hut, were used for sitting and sleeping on. A large number of the Pennsylvania line were natives of Ireland ; and it needed but a single glance at the faces of the ten men gathered AT MORRISTOWN. 311 aroiind that fire, to give assurance that the majority of them were from the " gim of the ocean," The features could not be mistaken. The broad face ; the short, end-up nose ; the light and red hair ; blue eyes and ruddy cheeks ; labelled them, " from Ireland." Only three out of the ten could be distinguished, by their long faces and lantern-jfiws, as natives of the land for which they were fighting. The clothing of the grou|) was without uniformity, and might be termed, ragged. " Now, Barney," said one of these sons of Erin, " ye spalpeen, ye know ye can sing. I niver knew an Irishman that could n't do that same." " I know I can, mon. Bad luck to me if I did n't. But, I tell yez, I 've got a cowld, and that stops my throat up." " Come, Barney," said one of the Pennsylvanians, "don't take so much coaxin'. An Irishman ought to have impudence enough to attempt anything, whether he can do it or not." " Go on, go on, mon," added another of the Hiber- nians ; " it '11 kape the blood stirrin', perhaps." " Och, what '11 I sing for yez, ye blatherin' divils ?" said Barney. " I do n't know inythin' but the rale Irish songs." " That 's what I want to hear," replied one of the Pennsylvanians. " I can sing some of our songs my- self. Give us somethino; Irish." 312 THE CAMP-FIRE "Yes, yes; something Irish," struck in two or three of the Hibernians. " "Well, I '11 sing yez a song that I know '11 warm some of your hearts, whither your outside 's cowld or not. It 's called ' The Irish Emigrant.' " And Bar- ney sang, in the sweet tenor voice so commonly found among the Irish people, the song that follows. Farewell to my country, a lasting farewell ! Sweet scenes of my childhood, forever adieu ! Now hid from my sight is the flowery deU, And now the dear cabin recedes from my view ; Thy murmuring streams no more breathe on mine ear; Thy wild-waving woods, too, are lost to my sight : Sweet gem of the world, I drop the sad tear. And farewell to Erin, dear land of delight. Sweet days that are past, how ye come o'er my soul ! Ye chill my warm blood, as the sad scenes I trace : Though Time shakes his sand, and the wide waters roll, Nor distance, nor seasons, those scenes shall efface ; Brave, brave were thy sons, unshaken by fear ; And blooming thy maidens to my ravish'd sight. Sweet gem of the world ! I drop the sad. tear To Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight. The tempest arose, and the ravager came ; Thy streams, stain'd with blood, reveal'd the sad tale ! Thy wild-waving woodlands were shrouded with flame, And the hell-hounds of war descended the vale ; AT MORRISTOWN. 313 ! my mother, my sister, my Kathleen so dear ! Can I think without madness on that horrid night. To your shades, ye beloved ones. I drop the sad tear, And to Erin, dear Erin ! the land of delight. The song was sung in a very feeling manner, and as Barney drew near the close of it, the faces of the Irishmen might be seen to wear a sadder expression, and as it was finished, in a low, sweet tone, Barney put his ragged sleeve up to his eye, as if to brush away a tear. No doubt, the song called to mind memories of the land they had left — of a mother, or sister ; or, dearer ones still, a wife and children, that poverty had compelled them to leave behind, when they sought a happier shore. " That song took away all the cowld feelin' I had," observed one of the men, named Larry. " Och," said Barney, " I could n't sing it again, if I was to be kilt for it." " It 's a very pretty song," said one of the Pennsyl- vanians, upon whom the song had not operated so powerfully, " but I '11 be switched if it took away the ' cowld feelin', as you call it, from me. My back is freezing, while my front is warm." " I won't stand such livin' as this much longer, I tell you now. I do n't believe that we 're bound to stay here any longer, anyhow,"' said another of the Americans. " You 're not bound to stay, in my opinion, Ben ; 27 314 THE CAMP-FIRE but you ought to stay, you know," replied the third Pennsylvanian. " I sujSer all hardships, the same as you do, but I do n't complain so much. I think the government ought to pay us better, and provide better quarters for us; but because they don't, I'm not going to turn deserter, or Arnold either." "And who would turn Arnold?" asked the com- ' plaining one, indignantly. " Must a man turn traitor, because he won't put up with getting such pay and livin' as we do, after fightin' the battles of his country for three years ?" " Is it an Arnold ye talk about turnin' ?" put in one of the Irishmen ; " bad luck to the man that turns traither." "AVell, men," said the Pennsylvanian who had replied to Ben's complaint, and whose name was Matthew, " have you heard the particulars of that foul treachery of Arnold's ? If you have n't, I can tell you all about it." "I've heard enough of it to convince me that Arnold has acted as basely as a traitor could act," replied Ben. " Well, I know nothin' about it, more 'u I 've heard from the men," said Barney. " Tell us all about it, Mat, a^ 1 if Ben don't want to hear it, let him sit quietly." " Yis, yis," added another of the Irishmen, " go on wid the story, and let Ben go to the divil." AT MORRISTOWN. 315 The call being j)rettj generally joined in by the men, Matthew, who was anxious to lay bare to his comrades the full baseness of the conduct of Arnold, commenced his narrative. " You see, men, I 've been very inquisitive in this matter. I generally try to get a full understanding of an affair, in all its particulars, before I give my opinion. In the first place, the way I first became acquainted with the matter was through one of the militia-men that stopped Major Andre. You know it was while the main army was encamped at Orange- town, or Tappan, as it is sometimes called, that we first heard of the treason, by the adjutant of the regiment reading the paper issued by General Greene. From that time, I made inquiries, and learned who the militia-men were that had overhauled Andre. One of them, I knew ; his name was Williams. From him, I learned all the particulars of the capture of Andre, and the rest I picked up from the conversation of the captain and sergeant of our company." " Never mind the authority ; go on with the story. I 'm satisfied of its truth, if you tell it," said Ben. •' Well, I thought I 'd let you know where I built my story," answered Matthew. " The post that was to be sacrificed by the treachery of Arnold, was West Point, on the Hudson River, about sixty miles above New York. Its position is such, that General Wash- ington considers it the most important post in the 316 THE CAMP-FIRE United States. It is indeed a strong post. Have any of you ever seen it ?" None of the party had got that far north. Two regiments of the Pennsylvania line had been des- patched to West Point, soon after the discovery of Arnold's treachery ; but the one they were enlisted in was not with them. Accordingly, they all ex- pressed their ignorance of its character. " Well," continued Matthew, " it is a very strongly fortified place. In fact, it is called the Gibraltar of America. It is situated at a bend of the river, where the rocks rise in ridges, one above another. The summit is very high, and is covered with a range of redoubts and batteries, planned by the most skilful engineers. The highest and strongest fort is built on a natural platform of rocks, very steep, and almost inaccessible on every side. This is called ' Fort Put- nam,' after old General Putnam, who planned it. It overlooks the whole plains below, and, they say, you can see thirty miles around from it. Then, to make the place still stronger, a very heavy chain is thrown across the river, at the short bend, and fixed to large blocks on each shore. The links of the chain are actually about a foot wide and a foot and a half long. It is buoyed up by large logs, pointed at each end, to make less opposition to the current of the river. This chain is commanded by the fire of batteries on each side of the river. You may judge, from this AT MORRISTOWN. 317 short description, of tlie strength of the position. They calculate that it could bid defiance to twenty thousand men, if it was properly garrisoned. And then, when you consider that it commands the whole country from New York to Canada, and keeps open the communication between the eastern and southern States, you can judge of the amount of damage Ar- nold's surrender of it would have done to the cause we were fighting for. Well, in the early part of last August, Arnold obtained the command of West Point, after considerable solicitation. The fact of his asking the command of that post, when there was a prospect of an attack being made on New York, by Washington, seemed to the commander-in-chief very strange. He had intended that Arnold should com- mand the left wing of the army, as that was the post of honor ; but Arnold said that his wounded leg pre- vented him from keeping on horseback for any length of time, and, in fact, unfitted him for active service. He obtained . his request, as I said before, and went immediately to the Highlands, and established his head-quarters at Robinson's house, two or three miles below West Point, on the east side of the river. West Point is, of course, on the west side. I might as well tell you here, that Arnold was in correspond- ence with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major Andre, all the time he was asking for the command of West Point, and for about a year previous." 27* 318 the'camp-fire " For a year previous to his treachery in regard to West Point?" asked Ben. " Yes, that 's certain," was the reply. " How much longer it had been going on, we do n't know. General Arnold took command of West Point, and then he thought it was a proper time to bring matters to an end. So he wrote to Clinton, and offered to surrender the post he commanded into his hands, with all the troops and stores in it ; but requested him to send an officer, or some other person, who had his particular confidence, to meet him, that is, Arnold, at some con- venient time and place. This, the British commander agreed to do, and Major Andre, the adjutant-general of the British, was selected for that service. It ap- pears that Arnold wanted to make quite certain of the reward he was to receive for his treachery, before he advanced too far. You know, I suppose, that about this time a detachment of cavalry was stationed at the outposts, on the west side of the Hudson river. A part of the detachment, under Colonel Sheldon, was at Salem. The rest, under Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson and Major Tallmadge, was at North-Castle. Well, Arnold gave notice to Sheldon, that he expected a person from New York, whom he wanted to meet at Sheldon's quarters; and he hoped, through the agency of that person, to open a chance for procuring intelligence. In other words — for I do n't suppose some of you Irishmen understand me — he wanted AT MORRISTOTV^N. 319 Sheldon to believe that the person he was going to meet would be a valuable spy." "A spy is it ye mane?" enquired Barney. "Yis, I untherstand ye." " Well," continued Matthew, " he requested Colonel Sheldon, if such a person should arrive, to show him proper attention, and send information of the same to head-quarters. A letter was sent to Andre, telling him of this arrangement, and that if he could con- trive to make his way to the American outposts above White Plains, he would be under the protection of Colonel Sheldon afterwards, and would meet with no obstacles. From some unknown cause. Major Andre did not choose to pursue this course, but sent a letter to Colonel Sheldon, signed ' John Anderson,' stating that he would meet Mr. Gustavus at Dobb's Ferry, on the next Monday, (which, if I recollect right, was the 11th of September,) at twelve o'clock. Now, the letter seemed a sort of enigma to Colonel Sheldon, as he afterwards said; but he sent it to Arnold, requesting him to either go himself to Dobb's Ferry, or send a trustworthy messenger. Arnold sent a reply to Sheldon, explaining, as he said, all the mystery of the letter from Andre. He said that Gustavus was a name he had assumed, to prevent discovery, if the letter should fall into the enemy's hands; and further, that he would himself go to Dobb's Ferrv. He contrived these circumstances to 320 THE CAMP-FIRE blind those who might become acquainted with the transaction, by giving it the color of a sort of public business. Well, Arnold left his head-quarters on the afternoon of the 10th, went down the river in his barge, to King's Ferry, and passed the night at the house of a man by the name of Smith, — Joshua Smith, — about two miles and a half below King's Ferry, near the Haverstraw road. The next morn- ing, early, he proceeded to Dobb's Ferry. You know that 's not very far from Tappan, where we were en- camped. Major Andre had been on the spot before Arnold arrived ; he was accompanied by a British colonel. But there 's one thing I came near forgetting. When Arnold was nearing Dobb's Ferry, he was fired upon by the British gun-boats, and so closely pursued that his life was in danger ; and once he came near being taken prisoner. He landed safely, however, and proceeded to the Ferry, where he remained till night ; but Andre and his companion had left, and in this way an interview was prevented for the time, at least. Arnold wrote a letter to Washington, while at the Ferry, to give some show of reason for his passage down the river. This was necessary, to pre- vent suspicion. He had come down the river in a very public manner, and it could n't fail to be known. He said he had come down the river to have a beacon fixed on a hill about five miles below King's Ferry, which would be useful to alarm the country ; and to .^j^ AT MORRISTOWN. 321 establish signals, to be observed in case the enemy ascended the river. These reasons were satisfactory, as they seemed proofs of his vigilance. Put on a little more of that wood, will you, Barney ? The fire's getting down, and I'm getting colder." The request was complied with, and all seemed to feel the additional comfort. Matthew continued his nar- rative. "Arnold was thus foiled in the attempt to bring his terms with the British to a settlement. He left Dobb's Ferry a little after sunset, went up the river in the night, and reached his quarters before morning. Another appointment for an interview was now to be made, and the time and place fixed on by the two parties. I think Arnold must have felt very uneasy all this time. I should n't suppose he could have had a moment's rest. He must have been in constant fear of detection. To bring about the second meet- ing, greater caution was necessary than before. Gen- eral Washington intended to cross the river at King's Ferry, in a few days, on his way to Hartford, to meet Eochambeau, the French commander; and it was necessary to arrange matters so that there would be, at the time of his crossing, no cause for suspicion. Arnold knew this, as it appears, and took his mea- sures accordingly. Two days after his return from Dobb's Ferry, he sent a letter to Andre, telling him that, if he would be at the landing on the east side v 322 THE CAMP-FIRE of Dobb's Ferry, on the evening of the 20th, a person would be there in whom he might place confidence, and who would conduct him to a place of safety, where Arnold would meet him. This letter arrived at New York too late to be of any use. Sir Henry Clinton was anxious to press the matter forward with all the haste he could ; and he sent Colonel Robinson, an American tory, whose lands had been confiscated by the government, up the river, on board the sloop- of-war Vulture, with orders to proceed as high up as Teller's Point. You see, this Colonel Robinson owned the house that Arnold lived in for a head-quarters, and he seemed to be doing nothing more than what was natural, when he entered into correspondence with the American general about his property. Rob- inson wrote two letters ; one to General Putnam, as if he did n't know that Putnam had left the High- lands, requesting a conference with him on some private business. The other he enclosed in the one sent to Putnam, directed to Arnold. These letters were sent by a flag to the officer commanding at Ver- planck's Point, the Vulture being within sight of that post, and only six or seven miles below. It hap- pened that Washington commenced his journey to Hartford on the very day the letters were sent, and crossed the Hudson, at King's Ferry, but a few hours after the flag-boat from the Vulture had proceeded to Verplanck's Point. Arnold came down the river in AT MORRISTOWN. 323 his barge, to meet Washington, the same afternoon, as a mark of respect to the commander-in-chiefj and, no doubt, as a precaution on his own part. He had received Robinson's letter just before he left home, and had mentioned the nature of its contents to Col- onel Lamb and some other persons that were with him at the time of its reception. Lamb was sur- prised that Robinson should open such a correspond- ence, and told Arnold that the civil authorities only, could act on such a subject. Washington and his officers crossed the river in Arnold's barge ; and several things occurred during the crossing, that were scarcely noticed at the time, but which after- wards were recalled to mind by the officers. The Yulture was in full view; and while Washington was looking at her, through his glass, and speaking in a low tone to some of his officers, Arnold exhibited a great deal of uneasiness and emotion. Another incident made a stronger impression. There was a French squadron expected daily to make its appear- ance on the coast, under the Count de Guichen, I think it was. Some of the officers were speaking of this, when Lafayette said, in a sort of jesting way, ' General Arnold, you have a correspondence with the enemy ; you must ascertain, as soon as possible, what has become of Guichen.' There was nothing more meant by this, than an allusion to the freedom of intercourse between West Point and New York, 324 THE CAMP-FIRE and the frequent exchange of newspapers ; but '■ sus- picion always haunts the guilty mind,' you know; and Arnold, I suppose, thought, for a moment, that his plot was discovered ; for he asked Lafayette what he meant, and seemed confused. He recovered his self-control, however, and the boat came to the shore. This was an the 18th of September. Arnold went with Washington to Peekskill, and there passed the night. The next morning, Washington and his suite set out for Hartford, and Arnold returned to West Point." " Well," enquired Ben, " had Washington actually any knowledge of the correspondence of Clinton and Arnold?" " No," answered Matthew. " He might have had suspicions of Arnold's fidelity to our cause, but he knew nothing of the actual state of affairs. Arnold showed Robinson's letter to him, in order to give him an idea that he was open and frank in his dealings ; but Washington advised him to drop the correspond- ence, as it might create suspicions in the minds of some people. I told you, I believe, — or, if I did n't, I forgot it, — that Robinson's letter to Arnold was written in such a manner, that it would convey to Arnold the information desired, and yet, if shown to anybody else, would pass for a mere business letter. After hearing Washington's decision, Arnold gave up the idea of having a meeting with Robinson in the AT MORRISTOWN. 325 way proposed in the letter. He wrote an answer to Robinson, and despatched it openly, in a flag-boat, to the Vulture. Whatever this letter contained, it was sent to Sir Henry Clinton, and Andre started from New York, and arrived on board of the Vulture on the evening of the 20th of September. It afterwards appeared, that this was the night Arnold had ap- pointed for a meeting with Andre. He had resolved that Andre should meet him on the land ; but Andre w^anted him to come on board of the Vulture. You see, he had little confidence in a man's word who was about to betray his country. Arnold had arranged matters so, that Joshua Smith's house was to be the place of meeting, and that Smith was to go in a flag- boat, at night, to the Vulture, and bring off" the person who would be waiting there. Well, Andre remained on board of the Vulture all night, expecting to meet Arnold there ; but no person appearing, he began to grow suspicious. He stayed on board all the next day, however, on pretence of sickness. After a great deal of trouble, he procured two boat- men, by the name of Colquhoun ; they were brothers. He had everything arranged so that there would be no stoppage, and about eleven o'clock on the next night after Andre's arrival, the boat, with Smith and the two brothers in it, passed quietly down the river till they were near the Vulture, when they were hailed and ordered to come alongside. After some 28 326 THE CAMP-FIRE little trouble with the man who had hailed them, Smith got on board. In a short time after, Smith got into the boat again, accompanied by Andre, and the boat proceeded to the foot of a mountain called Long Clove, where the occupants landed. This Long Clove is about six miles below Stony Point. Arnold had ridden to this place on horseback, with one of Smith's servants. Smith groped his way up the bank, and found Arnold among the bushes and trees. Most of what I 'm telling you now, I got from the narrative Smith gave after he was arrested. Well, Smith conducted Major Andre to where Arnold was waiting, and there left them. After a long time had expired, Smith went into the bushes, and reminded the conspirators that the night was far spent, and the boat must return before daylight." "Was Smith really acquainted with the treason Arnold was hatching ?" asked Ben. " He says he was not," replied Matthew ; " but that he understood that Arnold was arranging some spy business with a man of the name of John An- derson. I hardly believe him. I don't think he could have thought so, when he had to go to the Vulture, a British sloop-of-war, and bring the man off. If Arnold was making arrangements with a man from New York, to act as a spy, as Smith says he un- derstood^ how could that spy have been sent from a British vessel, in the night, by the aid of the captain AT MORRISTOWN. 327 of the vessel ? It 's my private opinion that Smith knew all about the matter. But, to return to the story. The conspirators were roused by this hint, but not having eflfected the object of their meeting, agreed that Smith and the boatmen should return up the river. In the mean time, Andre mounted the servant's horse, and went with Arnold to Smith's House, but three or four miles from the place of meeting. The night was very dark, and the voice of the sentinel, demanding the countersign, first told Andre that he was within the American lines. This came unexpected to him, and he felt the danger of his situation. The two horsemen arrived at Smith's house just at dawn of day, and the boat soon after- wards. Arnold had seen that Smith's family were removed from the house, before he started on his errand. About the time of the arrival of the whole party at Smith's house, a cannonade was heard down the river. It was soon discovered to be against the Vulture, which was in full view from Smith's house, and seemed to be on fire for a time. She was com- pelled to move from her position, and drop down the river, till she was beyond cannon-shot. Arnold and Andre stayed at Smith's house, together, in a room up-stairs, all that day, and there the business was settled. There the selfish traitor sold his country for gold, along with all the great military fame he had won. Pleasure and extravagance had led him 328 THE CAMP-FIRE into heavy debts ; and, to get clear of them, he turned a foul traitor to the cause of liberty, and left his name as a stain on his country's honor. Well, Andre stayed the next day at Smith's house, by himself; Arnold having gone up the river, to his head-quarters. I do n't know why Andre did not return to the Vul- ture that night ; but I know he started for New York hy land. Major Andre had procured a plain coat in exchange for his military one, as a disguise, and put the papers concerning the treason, in his stockings. He and Smith set out a little before sunset, accom- panied by a negro servant belonging to Smith. They rode to King's Ferry, in order to cross the river, from Stony Point to Verplanck's Point. On their way to the Ferry, they met several persons that Smith knew, and he laughed and joked with them, and even stopped at a tent where some loungers were drinking, and took a bowl of punch with them — Andre went slowly ahead, saying nothing, and was waiting at the Ferry when Smith overtook him. It appears that Smith had tried to draw him into conversation on the road, but did n't succeed." " He understood the weight of the business he had been transacting, I suppose, and that made him re- served," said Ben. "Or else he had a presentiment that he was going to be detected," observed the other Pennsylvanian, who, along with the Plibernians, contented himself AT MORRISTOWN. 329 with being a good listener, only making occasional observations at intervals in the narrative. '' It was dusk in the evening," continued Matthew, nodding assent to the interruptions of his comrades, " when Smith and Andre rode up from the Ferry, and passed through the works at Verplanck's Point. Smith rode up to Colonel Livingston's tent, a short distance from the road, but Andre and the servant went on. Smith told Colonel Livingston that he was going up the country, and had charge of two letters ; one to Arnold, and the other to Governor Clinton. He was asked to stay to supper ; but declined, on the ground that his friend was waiting for him. He then joined Andre. They got along very well till between eight and nine o'clock at night, when they were hailed by a sentinel of a patrolling party. The man ordered them to stop; and Smith accordingly dis- mounted, and enquired who was the commander of the party. The sentinel told him, Captain Boyd; and, just then, the captain came up. He was very inquisitive, and wanted to know who Smith was, where he belonged, and what was his business. His questions were all answered, but the Captain was n't satisfied. He wanted to know how far they were going that night. Smith replied, as far as Major Strang's ; but it happened that Strang was n't at home. The passport of Arnold had to be shown to the Captain, before he would be satisfied to let them 28* 330 THE CAMP-FIRE pass. Even then, he wanted them to stop there all night. Smith told him that he and his companion expected to meet a person near White Plains, from whom they could procure some important intelligence for General Arnold, and that they must go forward as quick as possible. The Captain finally directed them to take the North-Castle road, as being the least dangerous. He said that the Tarrytown road was infested by the bands called ' Cow-boys,' and that they had done much mischief lately. Smith began to wish to stop for the night, when he heard of the dangers of the road; and at last he determined to do so, whether Andre was willing or not. Accord- ingly, they passed the night at the house of a man named Miller, a little way back. The next morning, they started very early, and took the road leading to Pine's Bridge. After they had got beyond the reach of the patrolling party, I suppose they thought all their difficulties were over ; for Smith says that Major Andre conversed very freely, on a variety of subjects. They passed along quietly — that is, they were not disturbed by anybody wishing to stop them — till they got within two miles and a half of Pine's Bridge. Here Smith intended to end his journey. The Cow-boys had been seen on the other side of the bridge, and it was a little too dangerous for him. They took breakfast at the house of a Dutch woman, who had been robbed by the Cow-boys, but who had AT MORRISTOWN. 331 still some milk and pudding left to set before them. After breakfast, Smith divided his small lot of paper money with Andre, and took leave of him. He then returned with his servant to Fishkill, where he had left his family, and Andre went on. The journey Andre had to perform was a dangerous one. It was through what was called ' the neutral ground.' The Cow-boys and the Skinners, who ruled it, were bands of robbers belonging to the different sides in the war. The Cow-boys were tories, and they plundered every one who took the oath of fidelity to the State. The Skinners were about half republicans, and they plun- dered all who did not take the oath. Andre had about thirty miles to travel before he could get through this country. He did n't take the road that Smith thought he would take, but turned off into the Tarrytown road. This was the road where the Cow- boys were ; and as they were tories, he thought he would be safer in their hands. It happened that, the same morning on which Andre crossed Pine's Bridge, seven persons, who lived on the neutral ground, agreed to go out in company and watch for stragglers, or droves of cattle, that might be seen going to New York. Four of this party were stationed on a hill, from which they could see along the road for a great distance. The other three, — Isaac Van Wart, John Paulding, and David Williams, — lay in the iDushes at another place, near the road. Well, Andre came 332 THE CAMP-FIRE on without interruption, till he arrived nearly oppo- site where the men were in the bushes, — that was about half a mile above Tarry town. There John Paulding stepped out of the bushes, presented his firelock to Andre's breast, and told him to stand. *He then asked him which way he was going, and Andre enquired, in return, what party he belonged to; to which Paulding answered, 'The lower party' — that was, the Cow-boys. Andre then told Paulding that he was a British officer, on particular business, and hoped he would n't be detained ; and to show he was a British officer, he pulled out his watch." " Perhaps he wanted to offer it as a bribe to let him pass," interrupted Ben. "Not then," replied Matthew. "Paulding then told him to dismount, and Andre tried to make a laugh of the matter. He pulled out General Arnold's pass, which was to John Anderson, to pass to White Plains and below, and then dismounted ; telling the men that they had best to let him go, or they 'd bring themselves into trouble. Paulding told him not to be offended, as he did n't intend to hurt him. The three then took him into the bushes, and ordered him to pull off his clothes. He did so ; and after search- ing him closely, they couldn't find any description of writings. They then ordered him to pull off his boots, — which he did, but nothing was found ; and then they told him to pull off his stockings ; and in AT MORRISTOWN. 333 each one they found three papers. Paulding looked at the contents, and said at once that Andre was a spy. They then told him to dress himself; and he did so. He kept offering them large bribes to let him go ; but Paulding answered, when he had made his largest offer, that if he would give them one thousand guineas, he should n't stir one step. Within a few hours afterwards, Major Andre was put under the care of Colonel Jameson, with all the papers which had been taken from his boots." " Here was the divil to pay," said Barney. " All his throuble for nothin'." " Yes, for a gallows," returned Matthew. " Colonel Jameson examined the papers, but didn't seem to comprehend their true value. He resolved to send the prisoner to Arnold ! This was Andre's only hope ; but it was destined to be disappointed. Colo- nel Jameson penned a few lines to Arnold, and sent the prisoner off, under a guard, to proceed to West Point. Major Tallmadge, next in command to Jame- son, was on duty when Andre was brought in, and did not return till evening. He was surprised at what Jameson had done, and persuaded him to have Andre brought back. The Major freely declared his suspicions of Arnold ; but Jameson would n't listen to them. It was determined to keep Major Andre in close custody, till orders were received from Wash- ington or Arnold ; for a letter had been despatched 334 THE C*AMP-FIRE to Washington as well as one to Arnold. As Lower Salem was farther within the American lines than North-Castle, Andre was removed to that place, early the next morning after his capture, under the escort of Major Tallmadge. While there, he was cheerful, and made himself very much liked by all who came in contact with him. He wrote a letter to Washing- ton, in which he revealed his true name and character, soon after his arrival. As Washington was expected to stop at West Point, on his way to the army at Tappan, Arnold kept breakfast waiting for him ; but Washington was detained over night at Fishkill, and he sent two of his aids to make known to Arnold the cause of his detention. When the aids arrived and delivered their message. General Arnold and his family, and the aids, sat down to breakfast. While they were at breakfast, the letter of Jameson reached Arnold, and he broke it open and read it in presence of the company. He was greatly agitated, but con- trived to conceal it from those around him. He told the aids that his presence was required immediately at West Point, and that if Washington came, they should tell him that he would soon return. He then ordered a horse to be ready, and went up-stairs and told his wife that he would have to leave her, perhaps forever ; at which, she fell senseless. He left her, — for he had no time to lose, — mounted his horse, and rode with all speed to the bank of the river. There AT MORRISTOWN. 335 he got into a boat, and directed the oarsmen to pull out into the middle of the stream. The six oarsmen did n't know anything of Arnold's treasonable inten- tions, and they obeyed his orders. He told them he was going down to the Vulture, with a flag, and that they must make haste, for Washington was expected at his head-quarters. He also promised them two gallons of rum, if they would exert themselves. Ar- nold raised a white handkerchief as they approached King's Ferry, and Colonel Livingston let the boat pass as a flag-boat. She reached the Vulture without being obstructed, and Arnold got on board and in- troduced himself to Captain Sutherland. Then he showed another instance of the meanness of his character. He called the leader of the boatmen to him, and told him that he and his companions were prisoners. The man resisted, and said he had come on board with a flag of truce, and under the same sanction he would return. The captain did n't want to resist the positive command of Arnold, but told the man that he might go ashore on parole, and get what clothes and other things he and his companions jieeded. This was done the same day. When these men arrived in New York, Clinton set them at liberty, despising such an act of meanness." " The more you enquire into Arnold's dealings, the more mean and contemptible they appear," observed Ben. 336 THE CAMP-FIRE "Yes, that's true," replied Matthew. "In this instance that I 've just mentioned, it is particuLarly true." " How did Washington act when he heard of the flight of Arnold ?" asked Ben. " I 'm coming to that now," replied Matthew. " Washington arrived at Arnold's quarters soon after his flight to the river. When he was told that Ar- nold had been called over to the garrison, he took a hasty breakfast, and resolved to go and meet him at West Point. He and his oSicers, — except Hamilton, who remained behind, at the house, — intended to re- turn to dinner. When they were seated in the barge, Washington said he was glad that Arnold had gone before, as they would have a salute, and the roaring of the cannon would have a fine effect among the mountains. The boat approached the beach ; but no preparation appeared to have been made to receive them, and no salute was fired. The officer in com- mand of the garrison was seen coming down to meet them ; and as the barge touched the shore, he seemed confused and surprised at seeing the commander-in- chief and his officers. He said he did not expect such visitors, or he would have been prepared to re- ceive them in a proper manner. Washington seemed no less surprised than the officer himself. He asked if General Arnold was not there. The officer told him that he had not been there for two days, and AT MORRISTOWN. 337 that he had not heard from him in that time. Wash- ington was still more surprised at this intelligence, but inspected the garrison, and all the different parts of the works, thoroughly. This took up about two hours. At the end of that time, Washington and the officers returned to the barge, and were conducted again to Robinson's house. While they were on their way from the river to the house, Hamilton came directly to Washington, with an anxious countenance ; and after a few words in a whisper had passed between them, they retired together to the house. While Washington was at West Point, the letter from Jame- son, and the one from Major Andre, arrived by the same express. Jameson's letter contained the papers taken from Andre ; and the express which brought it and the letter from Andre, had followed Washing- ton, as was supposed, on the route from Hartford. Washington had returned by another road, and that is the reason it missed him. When the despatches came to Robinson's house, they were said to be of such importance, that Hamilton opened them and discovered their contents. The papers were laid before Washington without hinting what they con- tained to anybody else. The whole extent of Ar- nold's treachery was here made clear to Washington. Hamilton was immediately ordered to ride to Ver- planck's Point, that preparations might be made to stop Arnold ; but it was a great deal too late. Ar- 29 w 338 TJBE CAMP-FIRE nold had got six hours' start. He left his house at ten o'clock; and his treachery was not known to Washington till four in the afternoon. Washington acted with the greatest calmness and self-possession after the plot was discovered. He called Lafayette and Knox, and told them what had happened, and showed them the papers. He only said, ' Whom can we trust now?' Mrs. Arnold was frantic with dis- tress. Nothing could calm her; and her situation affected Washington very much. When Hamilton arrived at Verplanck's Point, a flag of truce had come from the Vulture to that post, with a letter from Arnold to Washington. This was sent at once to Washington, with a note from Hamilton. Sir Henry Clinton, it appears, knew nothing of the capture of Andre, till the Vulture arrived at New York, the next morning." " Well, you need n't tell us about the execution of Andre. We know as much about that as you can tell us, I guess," said Ben. " Thank you, Ben, for your gratitude," returned Matthew. " Here I 've been amusing the whole of the party for two hours or more, and, instead of thanking me for it, you interrupt me. But I '11 stop now ; and that 's the last story, or narrative, or song, you '11 get out of me." "Ocb, niver mind the b'y; go on wid ye," said Barney. AT M0RRIST0T7N. 339 But solicitation was vain ; Matthew was inflexible in his resolution ; and, in the end, the men were com- pelled to set about preparing for the night's rest. The fire was arranged so as to occupy less space, and yet give out sufficient warmth to keep the men from freezing during the night. The blanket — the sol- dier's luxury — was produced by each one of them. Meantime, they continued talking. "Och, I wonther what sort of a traither Arnold would have turned, if he had had such murtherin' livin' as we have ?" enquired Barney. " Perhaps," said Matthew, " if he had been a com- mon soldier, and lived as we have to live, he would have been more faithful. In such a life, there would have been no heavy debts to worry him into doing anything to get money." " I hardly believe that," returned Ben. " Arnold was a wholly selfish man. I do n't know of any- thing he done that didn't have its motive in some self-gratification. He performed many daring acts ; but it was for the glory attached to the deeds, and not because he thought they would be a benefit to his country." "Don't judge too quickly," said Matthew. "Al- ways give a man credit for the best motive, till you know the contrary." " If he had performed some deed, in which he would be called upon to suffer in reputation, although 340 THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN. such a deed would really benefit his country, as Gen- eral Washington has done, he might escape the cen- sure," observed Ben ; " but none such appears in his whole career." " Perhaps no opportunity presented," replied Mat- thew. " But we '11 talk over this matter some other time." The whole party had prepared themselves as well as circumstances would admit, for the night's rest; and some were already stretched by the fire, as Mat- thew and Ben ceased talking. Unimportant remarks were occasionally made by the Hibernians ; but very soon even they grew mute, as sleep folded her cur- tains around them. Then the sough of the wind, as it wandered around the hut and pierced through the crevices, was all that tended to disturb their repose ; for they could sleep on their hard bed, though the cold air did come in upon them. They were soldiers who had passed through the hardships of a three years' service in that army whose suflferings had scarcely a parallel. THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE OLD PEDEE. After the disastrous defeat of the American army under General Gates, at Camden, in South Carolina, General Greene was appointed to supersede him in the command. A better selection for that office could not have been made. General Greene united in his character all those qualities necessary to retrieve the reputation of the American arms in the South, and to build up an army on the ruins of the one handed over to him by General Gates. The unbounded fruitfulness of resource ; the prudence of his judg- ment ; the energy of his movements ; and the cool courage which he displayed in the time of greatest danger ; have caused him to be ranked second only to Washington, among the generals of the Ee volution. He overtook the remnant of the army at Charlotte ; to which place Gates had advanced. The appearance of the army was wretched beyond description ; and their distress, on account of the scarcity of provisions, was little less than from their want of clothing and other necessaries. Gates had lost the confidence of 29 * (341) 342 THE CAMP-FIRE all the officers, and the troops were without discipline. Plunder was the only resource they had for obtaining provisions, and they became the terror of the neigh- borhood. The officers were obliged to live upon charity ; making daily collections in that manner, and then only obtaining a little Indian meal and beef at a time. This was the state of the army when Greene took command. Almost naked in the middle of winter ; obtaining food only by force or begging ; among a people divided in their political sentiments and attachment ; the troops were dispirited and unfit for action, Greene immediately removed the army from Charlotte, and encamped in the midst of a better country, on the banks of the Old Pedee River. The consequences of this movement showed how judicious it was. The camp soon abounded with supplies for man and horse, principally procured by the personal efforts of Greene ; and the most assiduous exertions were made, to clothe and discipline the troops. Everything seemed more promising. It was a clear, cold night in January, 1781, soon after the army had encamped on the Old Pedee River. The moon threw her pale, ghostly light over the encampment and upon the surface of the river. The watch-fires of heaven were burning brightly above, but shed no warmth upon those beneath. The wind creaked through the trees, and swept piercingly across the river and through the encampment. In ON THE OLD PEDEE. 343 one of the tents, near the edge of the river, a party of men were huddled around a fire, partaking of the morsel allotted to them for an evening meal. The winters of South Carolina were mild, compared with those further north, and which the American army endured at Valley Forge ; but the men were almost naked. The tent was large enough to lodge about half-a-dozen men. The fire was in the centre, and the men were sitting around it. " Well, Joe," said one of the men, who had just put his last piece in his mouth, " this is a kind o' hard farin' ; ain't it ? Now that we 've got somethin' to eat, without stealin' it, I wish we could come across some clothes in the same way." " Ah," returned another, " we call this hard farin' ; if all be true that I've heard tell about how the troops suffered up north there, in the early part of the war, this livin' of ours is good. We think it's cold, just now, because it makes us shiver and huddle around this 'ere fire. Why, I've heard tell that when the soldiers used to be marchin', the ice would cut their bare feet, and set the blood flowin' ; the men used to be froze fast to the ground, till their comrades broke them away." " Oh, that 's pilin' it on too thick. Their marches were tracked by the blood from their feet, but there was no such thing as you 're tellin' us about," replied another of the group. 344 THE CAMP-FIRE " So I Ve heard 'em saj^," continued the one who had delivered himself of the story. " Them " is the usual indefinite authority. " That Gates was the cause of all our troubles/' remarked the one who had spoken first. " If that German baron's advice had been followed, there would n't have been a defeat at Camden." "No, nor a battle neither; he knew we weren't fit for a fight," added the one who had been called Joe. " They say that Gates told him he was a coward, just before the battle ; he ought to be alive now, to throw it back to the man that went to fetch the rascals back, and did n't come back himself," observed another. "Did any of you hear about the doin's at that council of war, held while the enemy were comin' up ?" asked one of the men. " Yes," replied another. " Sergeant Hand was tellin' us all about it ; though, how he got to know anythin' of it, I do n't understand." " Oh, he 's imitate with some of the officers higher 'n himself," said another, who had not spoken before ; "besides, you know, while Gates was in command, just before Greene come, they were n't near so con- founded strict with us as they are now, and they 'd tell us anythin' to hurt Gates." " Well, there's no use o' turnin' in yet ; besides, if ON THE OLD PEDEE. 345 we do, the fire '11 get down, and it's most plaguy chilly. So, Joe, you 're the gabbiest one of the lot, tell us about it; will you?" said the one who had asked about the council of war. Joe was nothing loth to talk ; indeed, he liked to talk. The men declared that he spoke enough for the whole party. As soon as the call was made, therefore, he caught it up eagerly, and, with a few preparatory hawkings and spittings, he commenced his narration. " You see, boys, I may as well give you a whole account of the council of war and the death of the brave old German. For though I was with you chaps, in the rear of where he fell, I 've been pickin' up an account of the whole matter, from some of the men that were fightin' round him, a-trying to save him." "Yes, Joe," interrupted one of the men, "only do n't put in any of your own make. Mind, we seen as much of it as you did." " Oh, there 's no use of lyin' about the thing. All I 'm a-goin' to tell you, I 've heard 'em say who was there and seen it all. Well, in the first place, I heard that, the night before the battle, some of the officers were talkin' to Gates about the expected fight, — among which officers was Baron de Kalb ; and one of the officers, in talkin', happened to say, ' I wonder where we shall dine to-morrow.' No doubt, he had a 346 THE CAMP-FIRE sort o' feelin' that we were goin' to be whipped next day. Well, Gates had a pretty certain kind of a way about him, you know ; and he said, — as if there couldn't be any doubt about the matter, — 'Dine, sir? why, at Camden, to be sure. I would n't give a pinch of snuff, sir, to be insured a beef-steak, to-morrow, in Camden, and Lord Cornwallis at my table.' I don't know what he counted on for winnin' the battle ; but I s'pose he thought he was a whole army himself. The Baron de Kalb was there, as I said before; and he said he was decidedly against the doin's of Gates, and foretold how the army would be ruined if a battle was fought then ; and he said, too, that he believed he was goin' to fall in the fight. You see, he was a man of some judgment; he was an old general, that had fought in Europe, and he knew when an army was fit for fightin', and when it was n't ; but Gates seemed to think that he did n't know as much about the matter as he himself did; and so he didn't pay much attention to it. Well, the next day, when we got wind of the approach of the red-coat army. Gates called a council of war of his ofiicers ; and you know that most of 'em seconded him, and went for fightin' the enemy at once; but De Kalb opposed it. He said that it would be best for the army to fall back, and take a good position, and wait for the enemy to come and attack us ; then we would stand a better chance with our raw troops ; ON THE OLD PEDEE. 347 for we had very little cavalry. Then, they say, Gates would hardly listen to this advice ; and when De Kalb had concluded givin' it, Gates said he was fixed on fightin' then and there ; and a kind of hinted that De Kalb was afraid to fight. At the hint bein' given, they say, De Kalb's face colored up ; and lookin' at Gates with the contempt he deserved, he said, ' Well, sir, a few hours, perhaps, will prove who are the brave ;' and then he jumped down from his horse, and went and put himself at the head of his command, on foot. I'd have given all the little clothes I 've got on my back now — and that 's the most valuable thing to me here-^if I could have seen the old man when he done that. It would have done me good, I know. I like to see a man who knows his worth, show his contempt of the one who attacks him in that way. His sayin' what he did, shows, too, that he could see right through Gates, and what would be his actions next day. Well, you know all about the skirmishes we had that night, and how the militia were dispirited by the advance bein' broken and driven back ; and you know, too, how, the next mornin', the battle begun in earnest. The whole left wing, as soon as they were charged by the red-coat bagonets, threw down their arms and run, as if they never had a thought of doin' any fightin'." " Yes, we know all about that ; there 's no use of your tellin' it all over again," said one of the men. 348 THE CAMP-FIRE " Well, I won't," returned Joe ; " but the militia in the left wing threw down their arms and run, as I said before; and Gates went Ho bring the rascals back,' and stayed himself. But we continentallers were in the right wing, and we didn't run. We stood there like men, and fought the whole force of the red-coats." " Yes, and whipped them nicely for awhile. I saw several prisoners taken, myself," put in one of the men. " There was the Baron de Kalb," continued Joe, getting animated in retailing a description given him by some one else, — " There was the Baron de Kalb, fightin' hand to hand with the enemy; fightin' on foot, at the head of our troops — showin' who was the brave. The men were fallin' thick around him, standin' by him to the last. He cut down all that pressed on him ; and the man who told me about it, says he saw him plunge his sword into the breast of his foes, as they aimed their blows at him ; but it was all up-hill work. The brave old man fainted and fell to the ground ; he had eleven bagonet wounds. Then there was a rush made to shield his body. The in- fernal red-coats tried to get at him with their bago- nets, and our men tried to stop 'em. Some of the Britishers tried to save him, as well as our men, but they were killed in makin' the attempt. Then his aid-de-camp rushed in through the clashing bagonets, ON THE OLD PEDEE. 349 and stretchin' his arms over the body of the old hero, cried out, ' Save the Baron de Kalb ! save the Baron de Kalb !' I suppose the Britishers did n't know who he was before ; for as soon as the aid-de-camp cried out, some British officers rushed in, and stopped the Britishers from killin' him right off. "We couldn't stand the force of the enemy any longer, after De Kalb fell, and we had to quit the field. I 've heard tell, since, that the red-coats took care of De Kalb, but he didn't live long; he thought of us, and the bravery we showed that day, till the last minute of his life. He said he died the death he always prayed for ; — the death of the soldier fightin' for the rights of man. He was a great man, indeed ; and whenever I think of him, it makes me feel as if I could chaw some of them red-coats right up !" " He was a great old man, as you say," observed one of the men, " but his death appears to have been more glorious than any other event of his career ; and very few of us, perhaps, will have that said of us." " That you do n't know," said Joe ; " he served a great while in the French army in Europe, and bore a very high rank there. He might have seen many a glorious fight." " He served three years in our army, too, and was in some of our hardest fights," observed another of the group. 30 350 THE CAMP-FIRE " Yes," returned the one who had spoken first after Joe had finished his account, " but there was more of the real hero shown in the manner of his death than in anything else that we know of. It 's a great sight to see a man choose his ground, and hold on to it till he is cut down by the overpowering force of the enemy. It 's what few men who go into battle think of. Too many of the battles we hear tell of are made up of a few rounds of firing, and then a retreat of one party or the other. Men ought to go into a fight with the intention of whipping or being whipped ; and so did De Kalb and the men under him, the day of the battle of Camden." " Well, Mr. Preacher, you talk well enough about the matter. The next fight we have, we '11 ask for your instruction. This idea of yours, about a fellow's fightin' till he 's cut up, ain't what it's cracked up to be, when you come to tryin' it," said an individual who had hitherto remained silent. Probably, he was one of those who had retreated early in the battle of which they were talking. " He talks like a man of courage," said Joe ; " and I think he 's one of the kind that follows out what he says. I 've seen him stand to his post when many a one would n't." " Thank ye, Joe, for that good word," returned the one who had criticised the manner in which battles were occasionally fought. ON THE OLD PEDEE. 351 "Well, boys," said one of the soldiers, who had not taken any part in the conversation, or even lis- tened to any of it, having been taking a nap by the fire, " have you heard about the surprise of Sumpter, at Fishing Creek ? I do n't know anything about the battle of Camden, or De Kalb, either, any more than I 've heard you tell ; but if you have n't heard about the surprise of Sumpter's troops, I can amuse you for a little while, by tellin' you about it." * Yes, but we did n't hear any of the particulars," replied Joe. " That long customer, over there, that just was talkin' about there bein' no fun in fightin' till you 're cut up, was tellin' us about the affair ; but he did n't seem to know much about it himself, and he could n't tell us much. He said there was some little fightin', and a great deal of runnin' away." The soldier who had volunteered to give an ac- count of the surprise, looked over the fire at the in- dividual alluded to by Joe, and seemed, for a moment, to detect in him some resemblance to a person he had seen before ; but he said nothing about the matter, and commenced : — " I was one of the body of men under Sumpter, who, before the defeat of Gates, at Camden, captured some British stores and their convoy between Camden and Charleston. I had joined the corps just before that took place, thinkin' that the kind of fightin' he done was more to my taste than the regular service." 352 THE CAMP-FIRE At the announcement of the soldier that he had be- longed to Sumpter's troops, the long individual looked over the fire in his turn. The scrutiny which he gave the soldier's face seemed to satisfy him of some- thing; for he immediately got very restless in his seat. He said nothing, however, and the soldier con- tinued. " We continued at the post between Camden and Charleston, our parties seekin' every chance to harass the British forces, till we heard of the defeat of Gates, when we also began to retreat, with what prisoners and stores we had captured while at that post. We retreated in the greatest kind of haste, for we knew we should have the British troops after us — we had caused them so much trouble. We marched four days, with little or no sleep or rest; and at the end of that time we thought we had got pretty much out of the reach of the enemy, and we encamped on the banks of Fishing Creek, for the night. Sumpter took every precaution to prevent a surprise. Videttes were stationed at proper points, and such a disj)Osition of the troops made, that it seemed almost impossible to come upon us before we had time for preparing for an attack. But the vi- dettes were men ; and marching four days, without resting, would overcome some of the stoutest men. They fell asleep at their posts ; and, soon after, the camp was aroused by the attack of the British legion of Tarleton. He had pursued us with the most un- ON THE OLD PEDEE. 353 tiring swiftness, and his horsemen rode into our camp before we knew he was near us. The best part of our men took to the river and the woods ; but Sump- ter rallied a few of them, myself among the number, and we stood our ground for awhile pretty stoutly against Tarleton's infantry ; but his horse forced us to break, and we took to the woods. All our artillery and stores, and the prisoners we had taken at our former post, were captured. I escaped through the woods, and the whole of our detachment being dis- persed, and not having any place where they would meet again, I determined to join the regular army." By the time the man had concluded his story, the individual who had attracted his scrutiny felt satisjfied that he would not be noticed by the narrator ; but he was mistaken. " I had almost forgot something, though," said the soldier. " That fellow over yonder, who was talking a little while ago about the folly of fighting till you 're whipped, was at that affair, I 'm pretty certain. He was in the same company as I was, and I think he was true to his principles ; for he was one of the first to leave the ground." " Oh, you 've got hold of the wrong feller ; I was n't there," said the man alluded to. " I believe it," said Joe. " He looks and talks like one of the brave boys." " There 's no use of denying it," said the one who 30* X 354 THE c'amp-fire had given the account of the surprise. " I do n't forget men's faces so easily." The advocate of runaway principles persisted in denying that he had been with Sumpter at all ; but the whole party joined in the expression of their be- lief that he was guilty. " We '11 put him in the forlorn hope, next time, if he stays with our army ; that '11 do him some good, perhaps," observed Joe. The men wrapped themselves in their blankets ; — that is, those who had them ; — and those who did not possess that soldier's luxury, secured the nearest place to the fire, for the purpose of resting for the night. While Joe was getting ready, like the rest, he continued talking. "That surprise of Sumpter was another conse- quence of the battle of Camden. It 's a great pity, too ; that was an active set of men, and might have been of great service to our cause." "Yes," replied the soldier who had been with Sum;"'ter, " you may well say that. I 've heard tell that Cornwallis said that Sumpter gave him more trouble than anybody else in these parts. The red- coats do n't understand that sort of war he does ; but he's not done with 'em yet. Twenty such defeats would n't dampen his spirits." The men had by this time fixed themselves by the fire, and some of them were soon slumbering; but ON THE OLD PEDEE. 855 Joe would occasionally break out, propounding some question or other to the individual next to him, till even he ceased to disturb the gathering silence, and the toils and cares of the whole party were soon for gotten, while they wandered in the land of dreams. THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE STV^AMP. The history of the exploits of the partisan bands of Marion and Sumpter, in South Carolina, is, per- haps, the most interesting and romantic that the war of independence furnishes. The defeat of Gates, and the almost total annihilation of his army, gave the entire command of the State to Lord Cornwallis ; but though Marion or Sumpter had no force competent to oppose the British in the open field, they had gathered a few men who were willing to undergo any priva- tion, for the sake of the independence of their coun- try, and who cherished an undying hatred of the tyranny of the English rule. These few were lulled with the active spirit of their leaders. The north- eastern part of the State of South Carolina was the field of Marion's operations. There the party under^, his command took refuge in the recesses of deep^ swamps, where the enemy would not dare to follom them. From these retreats they would sally out, whenever an opportunity offered to harass the enemy, and thus they kept the British in a constant state of 29 * . (356) THE CAMP-FIRE IN THE SWAMP. 357 alarm. The party, for several weeks, nunibered only seventy men ; and, at one time, hardships and dan- gers of various kinds reduced that number to twenty- five. Major Wemys, the British commander in that part of the country, wished to prevent the surround- ing inhabitants from co-operating with Marion, and accordingly, burnt scores of houses on the Pedee, Lynch's Creek, and Black River. But these outrages, of course, only served to incite the owners to revenge, and many of them took refuge with Marion's party, in the swamp. For several months, they were obliged to sleep in the open air, and to fly from one post to another, as the occupation of one became too trouble- some and dangerous. Unfurnished with the means of defence, they were obliged to take possession of the saws of the saw-mills, and make them into horse- men's swords. Often was Marion so distressed for ammunition, that he had only three rounds to each man of his party, with which he entered into an en- gagement. At other times, he brought his men into view when he had no ammunition, merely to make a show of his numbers. The fire was lighted in the swamp. It was on a sort of eminence that formed an island, surrounded by a deep morass. It was a usual resort of the party of Marion, and there he feared no foe. The trees around had been cut down, and, trimmed, they formed seats for the men, who occupied them, here and there, 358 THE CAMP-FIRE in groups. They had evidently just returned from some excursion ; for the men looked tired, and on the ground, near the fire, some guns and provisions were lying, the fruit of a nightly surprise and attack. They were a motley-looking set of men ; scarce two of them dressed alike. Some were tall, brawny fel- lows, that looked as if they could cope with any one that stood before them. Others were as small and dried-up looking as Marion himself, who sat near the fire, talking to one of his men. Old, black-looking fire- locks and powder-horns were the principal weapons to be seen ; here and there, a horseman's sword dan- gled from the owner's belt. The meal of hoe-cakes and sweet-potatoes was cooking at the fire. No better fare could they procure till that night's expe- dition gave it to them. A colored individual was exercising the functions of cook, in keeping the hoe- cake and potatoes from burning, with a stick which he had in his hand. Several pine-knots served as lamps, for the time; and the effect of the light, glaring upon the scene, was truly singular. The fact of the meal being ready, having been communicated to the party, the General and his ofiicers were first served, — bark being the substitute for dishes. Each man then received his share, upon a piece of bark, and they fixed themselves, in messes of three or four, as near the fire as convenient, and proceeded to make way with the food. To one of IN THE SWAMP. 359 these messes we will direct our attention. It was composed of the renowned Sergeant Macdonald and three others, — men belonging to the horse of the party. "Have the scouts been sent out yet, sergeant?" asked one of the men. "No; the General's just goin' to do it," was the reply ; and as Macdonald spoke, Marion gave a low whistle, which was answered by three of the men. He gave his orders to them in a low tone, and they proceeded, through the deep shade of the trees, to where the horses of the party nvere placed, under charge of two of the blacks. The men were soon mounted and off, and their comrades went on with their eating and talking, which the departure of the scouts had interrupted. " I wonder what the General 's after now," said one of the group to which we before alluded. There must be something in the wind, of some importance." " You may be sure of that. Green," replied another of the group — a tall, stout fellow, with a very red face, looking as if the sun had done its worst upon it. " You never see the little man so careful and quiet in his motions, but there 's somethin' goin' on that '11 o:ive us work." " Well," said the Scotch sergeant, " I '11 follow any- where the Fox leads. But I think we 'd better get some rest now, while there 's a bit o' spare time." obO THE CAMP-FIRE So saying, the sergeant and his comrades stretched themselves upon the grassy carpet that covered the island; but not to sleep. The day was generally their time for sleeping ; for in the night they could do the most execution with their small but active band. "Now I'll talk to ye," said Macdonald, as he stretched himself at length, with his head resting on one hand, while he brought his food to his mouth with the other. " Well, sergeant," remarked Green, " can't you tell us some of your adventures, or the General's, I do n't care which, just to kill time till the scouts come in? You 've been leadin' this rough and tumble sort of a life for some time with Marion, and you must have had some adventures worth tellin'. Besides, here's our friend Moran, here, has only been along with us since his house was burnt by the Britishers. He 'd like to hear something of it, too." "Yes, sergeant," said Moran, ''I'm anxious to hear about any nice tricks you 've served them in- fernal d Is that burnt the house over my head ; any real good floggin', or tantalizin', or even cheatin', you 've done them fellers, would do me good ; for I expect to eat some of 'em right^p, if I once get a chance." " Oh," returned the sergeant, " I 've done many a nice thing for 'em, and Marion has done as many IN THE SWAMP. 361 more ; but I '11 tell you one of my own doin', first, because I know more about it than I do of any of the General's. I think it was about a month ago. when the number of our men was reduced to some- where about thirty ; rather a small band for a general to command, you might say ; but that 's all there was, anyhow. Well, we were driven to all sorts of shifts for gettin' somethin' to eat ; and the large bodies of red-coats there was about, kept us cooped up all the time in the swamp. One day, — I think it was pretty near dusk, — I was out, with two others, seein' if I could n't come across some provisions. We had been out all the afternoon, and not a mite had we got for our trouble. Nothin' in the shape of either eatin' or drinkin' articles come in my ken. We was gettin' pretty desperate, I tell ye ; it 's like enough if we had come across fifty men, we would have stolen all they had with 'em to eat. Well, we were ridin' on through the woods, just outside of the swamp, when, just about two hundred yards ahead of us, we thought we seed a smoke. Of course, we expected there was a fire there, and, perhaps, somethin' to fill our maws with. So we stopped our horses on the instant, and, gettin' down from 'em, tied 'em to the trees. Then we walked sneakin'ly towards where we saw the smoke risin' ; and when we got pretty near it, I climbed up a tree, to reconnoitre, while the two men kept watch below. There I could see the whole ai 362 THE CAMP-FIRE scene that was passin' where the smoke was risin'. There was about ten of the red-coat infantry seated round a fire, while a servant was preparin' a meal for 'em. I knew that there must be a larger party of 'em pretty near, for they would n't dare to be there at that time in the day, with such a small number ; but I didn't care if the whole British army were about; I was goin' to have some of their eatin'. So I took a pretty good look at 'em, to see how things stood, and I saw that they had no conveyance among 'em for their cookin' things that were on the fire. Well, I knew that there ought to have been one somewhere ; and I got down with the intention of goin' to see if I could find it. I told the other two how things stood, and told one of 'em to stay with the horses, while I took the other along with me. We took our swords only with us ; the guns we left to the care of the man who waited with the horses. We then stole carefully round where the fire was, — lookin' ahead of us, to see whether they noticed us, — till we got round nearly opposite to where we left the horses. Then we got nearer to the fire ; we could almost hear what the red-coats were talkin' about. Lookin' through the trees on one side of me, I spied a big tin box ; it seemed.Jto be about two feet long, and one wide. That was what we were huntin' for, I knew at once. So we creeped on our hands and knees to it, and found it was nearly full of the IN THE SWAMP. 363 nicest kind of eatin' and drinkin' things. I got up to take a look how things were round the fire, and found everything goin' on as if there was nobody about. My comrade and I took up the box, and walked around to where we left the horses. I had a sort of fear, as you may call it, that the servant might go to hunt the box, to get somethin' out of it ; but he did n't, as it happened, and we got the box safely round to the horses. The man we left there had mounted, and had everything ready for a hard ride, if it should be necessary. We mounted our horses and took our weapons ; but I did n't intend to leave the party of red-coats in such a quiet way. I had a fine, fleet horse, and I knew there was none there could catch me, if I once got started. So I gave the box to the two men, and told 'em to ride straight for the camp, here in the swamp. They set out, and I waited till I saw they were pretty well out of reach ; and then I fixed the rifle I had with me — one of them never-fails, that you don't come across often. I rode to a place that was somewhat open and clear from underwood, where I could have a full view of the party of red-coats, yet be hid behind the low boughs of the trees. The part}'' were all standin' up, holdin' their cups in their hands ; the leader was in the middle, close to the fire. I supposed they were just goin' to drink a toast — and I was right. The one who seemed to be the principal man among 'em, 364 THE CAMP-FIRE raised his cup above his head, and cried out, at the top of his voice, 'Here's the health of our most gracious master, King George the Third !' As soon as I found there was goin' to be a toast drunk, I knew at once whose health it would be, because that was always the first toast of the red-coats. I looked around, to see if the coast was clear, and turned my horse's head in the direction my men had gone ; and just as the leader had finished his toast, I sung out, at the top of my voice, ' Here 's to the death of the tyrant !' and, on the instant, took aim at the head of the leader, and let fly. The sound of my voice, and the report of my rifle, made the whole party spring round, to see where it came from; but when they saw their leader fall dead, they were so frightened, that I believe if I had had a few more men with me, I could have taken the whole party prisoners. I did n't stop any longer, though ; for as soon as I saw the leader fall, and the state the red-coats were in about it, I give a loud laugh, and put spurs to my horse ; and by the time they could get their guns and send a volley after me, I was out of their reach. I didn't fear pursuit, then; for I knew the woods a good deal better than they did, and they knew, as it was gettin' dark pretty fast, that our men would be about, and might pick off" some more of 'em. I rode on, however, to the camp in this here place, where I found the men with the box of provisions. That IN THE SWAMP. 365 was one of my adventures, and I think I served 'em a pretty neat trick. I do n't think I 'd have shot that leader, though, if he had n't been so braggy and noisy with that toast of his. I intended to fire in the air ; but I could n't stand the temptation of puttin' an end to his braggin'." " That was a bold feat," observed Moran ; " but it served the red-coat d ^Is exactly right. They burnt the house over my head, and drove my family to hunt a shelter where they could find one. You ought to have shot more of 'em ;" and Moran looked very revengeful and savage. " Ah, well," replied the sergeant, " I hardly like to bring down game in that kind of a way. It's too much like murderin'. I like to meet the enemy in a fair field, if I can. But I 've no doubt they 'd have done as much for me as I done for their captain, if they had had the chance." " That they would," said Green, emphatically. " Well, sergeant," said Moran, '• I hojoe you 're not run out yet. You must have some more of the same sort." " Oh, man, I could talk to you the whole night, about such doin's; but — hist!" said the sergeant, stopping short, "What's the game now? The Swamp-Fox is stealin' round as if he smelt some- thin'." Most of the party had stretched themselves on the 31* 366 THE CAMP-FIRE ground; and some were taking a short nap, while others were passing the time away, talking with their comrades. All had their guns and other weapons lying beside them, prepared for any sudden emer- gency. Marion had left the group where he had been talking, and pretty soon he was seen stealing quietly around the outside of the encampment. It seemed as if he had caught the sound of some one approaching. All eyes that were awake were in- stantly directed to his movements, and a silence, only disturbed at intervals by the slight plash made by an alligator, diving, or the dismal hooting of an owl, pervaded the scene. Just as the General had got round to the place where the scouts had left the camp, he seemed to listen more intently for a while, and then slowly returned to his first position. The pattering of the hoofs of horses was then plainly heard by the listening men, and the scouts rode into the camp ; their horses covered with mud, and foam- ing somewhat at the mouth. The men sprang from their horses, and gave them into the charge of the blacks, and immediately proceeded to give Marion the result of their reconnoitring. As soon as the General was possessed of the intelligence, he gave a cry — an imitation of the cry of the swamp-fox — and the whole party instantly sprang to their feet. The General called his few officers to him, and whis- pered his orders ; they then went to ascertain if their IN THE SWAMP. 367 men were prepared. The horses were brought out, and by far the largest part of the men were mounted. A few moments served to get everything in readiness, and, with the General at the head, and the other officers scattered through the line, the band left the encampment in single file, by the same way as the scouts had previously gone. At that place, no doubt, there was a safe passage over the morass that sur- rounded the island on which was the encampment. The night was dark, and the party had to carry two or three pine-knot torches with them, to light the way, as they rode through bog and brake. After riding through the swamp in this manner, for about half an hour, they attained the solid ground of the wood that skirted the swamp. Here the order was given to halt, and the party were drawn up in closer order. The scouts were sent out to reconnoitre, while the General, through his officers, explained to his men how he wished them to act. The game was a detachment of the British troops, which had been ascertained to be about three hundred strong. They had been sent in pursuit of Marion, and they had encamped just outside of the wood that surrounded the swamp, upon the bank of a small stream. Marion had determined to surprise them ; and although his own force was no more than half that of the enemy, he had the advantage in knowing the country better than they did. They had encamped in a very favor- 368 THE* CAMP-FIRE able position, with their front to the wood, and had their videttes posted, to prevent surprise. The scouts returned to Marion and reported how matters stood ; and, with a slight exhortation to his men to do their duty, and some additional orders to the officers, he gave the order to proceed. The torches were hid where they could be found when necessary, and the band moved silently, but quickly, through the wood. A small party were placed in the advance. They soon caught sight of the camp-fires of the British de- tachment. The videttes perceived them, and fired their guns; but they were upon the camp in a moment, before the alarm was fairly given. They rushed into the midst of the British like a hurricane, bearing down all before them, while the drum was heard beating, calling the enemy to arms. They left their camp and fled in every direction, in the endea- vor to escape from the sabres of Marion's men ; while their pursuers shouted as they drove them before them. Uncertain how large the force was that had attacked them, their fears magnified it to twice the amount it really was. Some were killed, a few cap- tured, and the remainder were dispersed in every direction. The band of Marion soon returned to the enemy's camp, from the pursuit, and set to work to share the spoils in such a manner as to make them easy of carriage. A large quantity of arms and pro- visions of all kinds were captured, together with a IN THE SWAMP. 369 few horses that had been left in the wood, near at hand. Part of the tents were set fire to by the owners, before they left, to prevent them from falling into the hands of the foe ; but a few were saved, and these, also, the joarty took charge of They then set out for their own encamjDment, with the spoils, and arrived there without further incident. A good night's work had Marion and his men per- formed; and the men looked with some degree of satisfaction upon the spoils, as they were heaped up in the open space around the fire. Marion, himself, seemed somewhat elated with the success of the en- terprise; and a smile glowed upon his sunburnt features, as he looked upon the fruits of their activity, and thought how the news of his success would cha- grin the British commander who had sent the detach- ment in pursuit of him. Among the spoils, was a quantity of wine, that had belonged to the British ofiicers, and some brandy that was intended for the soldiers. These two much-relished beverages were distributed among the officers and men of the band, in goodly portions, and it was determined to pass the remainder of the night as merry as possible. The provisions were stowed away till a more pressing occasion. The rest of the spoils were put away until the next day. When the liquor had been distributed, and each man had his portion safely in his cup or jug, or whatever receptacle he was possessed of, the Y 370 THE CAMP-FIRE party scattered about the area again. Our group, — consisting, as before, of the sergeant, Green, Moran, and another, — seated themselves upon the ground. "Now, boys," said the sergeant, holding a small mug in his hand, which he had made sure of in the general capture, " we Ve somethin' to put a little life in us ; though it 's not exactly the thing Scotch whis- key would be for me." "It's the very thing for me," replied Green, "I wish there was more of it." " Out, man ; do you want to get drunk ? You 've enough there in that cup of yours to make you a little flighty, anyhow. But hold on a bit; I've got a toast for you to drink." " Well, out with it, sergeant ; for I 'm in a hurry to get a drink," said Moran. The four raised their mugs a little, and Macdonald said : " Here 's to General Marion. May the hunters of the Swamp-Fox always meet with the same recep- tion as they got to-night !" The men swallowed the toast in a long swig of the liquor ; and as they reluctantly withdrew the mugs from their mouths, each smacked his lips in satisfac- tion. " That 's what I call a good toast well drank," said Green, looking in his cup longingly, upon the re- mainder of his portion. " Yes," returned the sergeant, " the subject of the IN THE SWAMP. 371 toast makes it a good one. This night's work was as neat a planned thing as I 've heard of yet ; and the General must have the credit of it all. He puts a little of his own spirit into the men at such a time • — but, Green, sing us that song of yours, about the Swamp-Fox. It 's a good thing, wherever you got it from, and I like to hear it." Green was anxious to sing. The liquor he had drank had put him in that state when the spirits must break out into singing, or dancing, or talking ; so he did not make the looked-for and customary apologies, but jumped at the request. "Certainly, sergeant, certainly. I'll do anything towards amusin' the rest of the company. I ain't back'ard." So saying, he sang the following song, in a slightly tremulous voice, but tolerably loud. The sound of his voice attracted the attention of some of the other men who were sitting within hearing, and they gathered near to listen. THE S WA M P - F X . We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides, His friends and merry men are we; And when the troop of Tarleton rides, We burrow in the cypress tree. The turfy tussock is our bed, Our home is in the red-doer's den, Our roof, the tree-top overhead, For we are wild and hunted men. 372 THE CAMP-FIRE We fly by day, and sliun its light; But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, We mount, and start with early night, And through the forest track our foe. And soon he hears our chargers leap, The flashing sabre blinds his eyes, And ere he drives away his sleep, And rushes from his camp, he dies. Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed. That will not ask a kind caress. To swim the Santee at our need. When on his heels the foemen press — The true heart and the ready hand, The spirit stubborn to be free — The twisted bore, the smiting brand — And we are Marion's men you see. Now light the fire, and cook the meal, The last, perhaps, that we shall taste j I hear the Swamp-Fox round us steal. And that's a sign we move in haste. He whistles to the scouts, and, hark ! You hear his order calm and low — Come, wave your torch across the dark, And let us see the boys that go. We may not see their forms again, God help 'em should they find the strife, For they are strong and fearless men, And make no coward terms for life : They'll fight as long as Marion bids, And when he speaks the word to shy. IN THE SWAMP. 373 Then — not till then — they turn their steeds, Through thickening shade and swamp to fly. Now stir the fire, and lie at ease, The scouts are gone, and on the brush I see the colonel bend his knees. To take his slumbers, too — but, hush! He's praying, comrades: 'tis not strange; The man that's fighting day by day. May well, when night comes, take a change, And down upon his knees to pray. Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand The sly and silent jug that's there j I love not it should idle stand When Marion's men have need of cheer. 'Tis seldom that our luck affords A stuff like this we just have quaff'd. And dry potatoes on our boards May always call for such a draught. Now pile the brush and roll the log: Hard pillow, but a soldier's head. That's half the time in brake and bog, Must never think of softer bed. The owl is hooting to the night. The cooter crawling o'er the bank, And in that pond the plashing light Tells where the alligator sank. What — 'tis the signal! start so soon. And through the Santee swamp so deep, Without the aid of friendly moon. And we, heaven help us, half asleep ! 32 374 THE CAMP-FIRE But courage, comrades, Marion leads, The Swamp-Fox takes us out to-night; So clear your swords, and coax your steeds. There 's goodly chance, I think, of fight. We follow where the Swamp-Fox guides. We leave the swamp and cypress tree. Our spurs are in our coursers' sides, And ready for the strife are we. The tory camp is now in sight, And there he cowers within his den ; He hears our shout, he dreads the fight. He fears, and flies from Marion's men. " Good," said the sergeant, when Green had con- cluded the song. " I like that song better every time I hear it. Green, you sing it well." " Much obliged, sergeant, for the compliment," re- plied Green ; " but neither the music nor the singin* of it is as good as the words." " No," said Moran. " The words tell exactly the life we lead here in the swamp. At one time we 're hunted by the red-coats as if we were wild beasts ; at another, we hunt them. The only difference is, we bring down our game a great deal oftener than they do." ^' That 's a fact," returned the sergeant ; " and now let 's drink another toast, and that '11 finish the liquor. Here's to the health of the red-coats. May they soon learn that the right way to keep it is to go back IN THE SWAMP. 375 to their own land, and leave us to take care of our- selves." This toast was received with a cordial " Ha, ha !" by the men around the sergeant, and drank with a great deal of animation. " Now, sergeant," said Green, beginning to feel a little ' elevated,' " tell us some sort of a yarn, to fill out the time till mornin', and then we '11 go to bed with the owls." "Yes," added Moran, "anything at all; we ain't hard to please." " Well," replied the sergeant, thus appealed to, " I do n't think you are hard to please, Moran, since you got that brandy. I expect you feel like laughin' at anything just now. I'll tell you one of Marion's capers, that you have n't heard of, perhaps." " How did you hear of it, sergeant ?" asked Green. " Me hear it ? I was on the spot, and saw it," an- swered Macdonald. " Oh !" ejaculated Green, as if satisfied of the truth of the story. " You see, men, it was about three or four months ago, I think, — for I hardly know how the time goes, — the General was pretty hard pushed for ammuni- tion. We had been tryin' to get some, everyhow we could think of, but could n't do it ; because, you see, the British had our little party penned up close in the swamp. We had only about fifty men in all. 376 THE dAMP-FIRE Tarleton and his troop were huntin' round, and they had a large force of infantry in the neighborhood. Well, somethin' had to be done ; for to be idle was n't in the make of Marion. The only way we could get any ammunition to supply our wants, was to attack the convoy that brought the stores to the British in the neighborhood. These convoys sometimes num- bered a hundred men each ; but often more than that. Besides, they were well provided, in every respect, for an attack. Well, Marion resolved to attack one of these convoys ; and he laid his plan for it with the greatest care. The principal things to be done were these : — A party of our men, numberin' only five, — that was all we could spare, — was to take a route through the woods, just opposite to the one the whole band were goin', and they were to lurk around the large detachment of infantry in that direction, and once and a while show themselves, to make the British think the whole of our band were in that neighborhood ; and then the commander of the de- tachment would give the commander at the station where the convoy come from, notice of the fact, and thus throw 'em off their guard. Then, on the night of the attack, the whole of the rest of the band were to march to a place which he mentioned, where there was a good chance for hidin', and a better one for an attack. It was a place where the road, along which the convoy was expected to come, passed through a IN THE SWAMP. 377 wood, where the ground was very much overgrown with bushes, at the bottom of a very shallow ravine. The road just there made a short turn ; so that when we were stationed on each side of it, just before the bend, we could let the advance of the party get around before we 'd attack the convoy ; and then the stores might be secured very speedily. We had only three rounds of ammunition for each man, when we heard' of an expected convoy of stores. These we had treasured for some time, waitin' our chance. The party of five were sent on their duty ; and, as they sent us word by one of their number, they done the business just as we expected ; the British thinkin' our whole party was in the neighborhood certain, and sendin' word to that amount to the commander at the station where the convoy was to come from. We were on the ground Marion had fixed upon, before night, when the convoy was expected to pass. Every- thing turned out as we wanted it. The convoy got to the pass as it grew fairly dark. We were at our posts, on horseback, in the wood on each side of the road. Marion was in command of the party on the right of the road, M'^ho were to secure the stores, and take them through the wood, in that direction. I was with the party on the other side, and we were to attack the body of soldiers in the rear of the stores. On come the convoy, with their torches and lanterns lightin' the way, never thinkin' anybody was goin' to 32 * 378 THE CAMP-FIRE trouble 'em. The advance got fairly round the bend in the road, and the wagons in which were the stores were right opposite to us, when the word was given to our party to fire and rush on the rear-guard ; and we poured a volley into them that staggered 'em at once. Then we come down on 'em, from the sides of the road, like all creation ; hootin' and shoutin' at the loudest. At the same time, the party under Marion came down, from the other side of the road, upon the wagons with the stores ; and while we were slashin' away at the rear-guard, a part of Marion's men were securin' the stores, and draggin' 'em off into the wood as fast as possible. Such a yellin' as we kept up all the time, you can't think of. To-night's business had a good deal of that, but it was n't anything like the other. Part of the horsemen in the rear stood their ground, but the rest made off back the way they came. The advance got themselves turned around by the time most of the stores had been secured by the men of Marion's party, and sent to our place of meetin', in the swamp, as fast as ten men could carry and drag 'em. The rest of his party came to our rescue, and helped to beat down the rest of the rear- guard. But there was no time to lose ; we could n't stop to take prisoners. The advance was comin' back upon us ; but the wagons were in their road, and they could n't get at us without great danger to themselves. The order was given, and we poured our last volley IN THE SWAMP. 379 into 'em, and then took to the wood. Marion was nearly the last man on the ground ; but he had the best horse. He gave a shout, and fired his pistol into the foremost horseman's breast, and followed his men into the wood just in time to save himself from the sabres of the rest of them. I was behind him, and saw him do it; and then we rode through the wood nearly side by side. We had to move quick through that wood, I tell you. We had to cross another road before we got into the swamp, and Marion had strong fears of bein' attacked there. The body of horsemen we had left behind us would not dare to follow us at night, through the wood. They had had a taste of a surprise ; besides, they had plenty of wounded to take care of, I know. My sabre done a pretty deal of work, and I know the rest of the boys were n't be- hind me in it. We had three wounded, but none killed; and these wounded we brought away with us. We passed the crossin' safely, but hurried on as fast as the carriage of the stores would let us, till we got far into the swamp, and then we slackened our pace. The men were almost worn out with the hard ride, and carrying the wounded and the spoil of our attack, by the time we reached our camp. We had captured a great deal of ammunition and provisions, and they served us for some time ahead ; I think it was about a month. Our decoy party had arrived some time before us. But mind, we had to keep close for a 380 THE CAMP-FIRE week or so after that surprise. The British detach- ment were awful wrothy about losin' their provisions and ammunition, and the next convoy had double the number of troops with it that the other one had. I can't help thinkin' how dashed the red-coat troops must have felt, ridin' into the British camp with their empty wagons." As the sergeant paused, he looked up, expecting to hear the remarks of his companions on the gallant exploit he had just narrated. Green was fast asleep, and the two others had sunk into a state of listless- ness, which was the precursor of sleep. " Why, blast ye !" exclaimed the sergeant, pushing Moran with his rough hand, " you have n't been lis- tenin' to my story, after askin' for itj but ye shall pay for it, I tell ye." So saying, the sergeant yawned, and, stretching himself on the ground, he pulled a small log towards him, for a pillow, and, thus prepared, gave himself to sleep. The fire had almost burned down ; the men were sleeping in various positions, all over the ground near the fire, and some on the large logs close at hand. Marion's short, slender form, and sunburnt face, might there be seen, stretched quietly by a log, with a piece of the canvass of a tent for a pillow. Never did a soldier, with as hard a bed, sleep as calmly and soundly as he was sleeping. There, far in the swamp IN THE SWAMP, 381 that formed their fortress, the little band that so suc- cessfully and so gallantly upheld the independence of their country, were sleeping, fearless of attack ; and there, with the lap of their mother earth for a bed, their guardian heaven for a roof, and the stars to light their way through the land of dreams, we leave the hardy band to realize . " How sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil !" THE CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. After the battle of Eutaw Springs, so glorious for the American arms, the army retired to a position they had formerly occupied, on the high hills of San- tee. That battle may be considered as the close of the war in South Carolina — that being the last gen- eral engagement of the two opposing armies. The American troops were in high spirits, for they had accomplished a great deal in that single campaign of 1781. They opened the campaign with the gloomiest prospects. The whole State of South Carolina was in possession of the British army, and the Americans had scarcely the means of taking the field to oppose them. Yet this wretchedly-provided army, under the conduct of the military genius of Greene, had, at the close of the campaign, reduced the possessions of the British to the near neighborhood of Charleston. This was, indeed, enough to put the Americans in high spirits. Supplies for their camp were now abun- dant ; for the crops which the British had planted, with the expectation of reaping the harvest for their (382) CAMP-FIRE ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 383 own benefit, fell into the hands of the victorious Americans, and gave them a seasonable relief. The time of the encampment of the American army on the high hills of Santee, was the latter part of August and September, of the year 1781. The principal actions of the campaign had taken place in the heat of a southern summer; and the weather was still very warm when Greene returned to his position on the Santee. The camp, as we have said, was filled with supplies, and every ojpportunity was offered for the troops to enjoy a rest after their toils. The evening was a calm and beautiful one. The red glow upon the horizon, that marked where the glorious sun had bid the scene farewell, was fast mel- lowing into a violet hue. The crescent moon was softly beaming from the cloudless sky, and, one by one, her assisting stars twinkled into view. A silence, broken only by the noise native to the field and wood, was gathering over the scene. The white tents made the encampment look like a close-stoned graveyard, in the evening light. The men were generally in their tents ; but sleep could not visit their senses so early. In one of them, four men were Ij'ing upon the ground that formed the floor of the tent, as near the opening as they could get. The front of the tent looked out upon the country upon the hills, a scene which they regarded with an interest which argued a strong feeling of the beautiful, in the men. They 384 THlT CAMP-FIRE were waiting for one of their number, who made up the mess of the tent. He had left the camp, in the afternoon, for a short excursion into the country, and had not yet returned. Their evening meal was al- ready prepared upon the fire in the tent, but the men had concluded to wait for their comrade, both for the sake of his company, — for he was the liveliest one of the mess, — and that he might not want company himself. They waited patiently till it began to grow dark, when one of them remarked : — "I wish Harry 'd make a little haste, if he is ^.omin' ; I 'm beginnin' to feel a little like puttin' away some fodder." "Oh, Bill, we can afford to wait a little longer. His company generally makes the food taste as good again," said another of the men. " There 's no dull- ness while he 's about. I 've been in service the whole campaign ; and I never come across a fellow like him in camp, yet." " He 's a first-rate chap," replied Bill, " but fodder 's a good deal better for a hungry stomach than his company, I 'm thinkin'." " Here he comes !" exclaimed the individual nearest the entrance. " He 's just turnin' the corner of the wood." " Ha, ha ! boys," said Harry, " you 've eaten up all the victuals, I suppose, by this time. I'm awful ravenous, after the tramp I 've had." ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 385 "No, indeed," replied Bill; "we've been waitin' for you till I 'm almost hungry enough to eat you up. Come on now ; will you ?" As Harry arrived at the tent, the men arose, and set about fixing the fire so as to make a light in the tent, to enable them to ^ find the way to their mouths,' — though, in their present hungry state, that would not have been a difficult operation, — and also divided the provisions they had been cooking. "Well, boys," said Harry, "I've been wanderin' through the country, up here, to see what it's like. I tell you, there 's some pretty scenery around these parts." " I know it," said Bill. " I saw it when we were camped here before." " For my part," observed Harry, " I 'd sooner look at beautiful scenery than eat." "Ah !" said Bill, disposing of his victuals at a won- derful rate, " you romantic young men are apt to let yourselves be carried away from the substantial busi- ness of life. Now, for my part, I'd sooner eat a dinner of my old mother's cooking, than look at all the pretty scenery in creation. There 's nothin' like eatin'." " Except it is drinking," added John ; another of the men. "Yes, that's well put in," replied Bill. "Good eatin' and drinkin' is a pair of things I fell in love 33 z 386 THE CAMP-FIRE with just after I was born, and the likin' still sticks to me." " If you fellows keep on, you '11 get me to quoting poetry," said Harry, who was, from his conversation, evidently a man of some education. "Oh, don't," replied Bill. "Of all things, I hate poetry. I like to hear things said in a plain, com- mon-sense way, and not tuned to music. Such things are foolish." "Well, Bill," said Harry, "you are about the dullest customer I 've ever had to deal with. What 's a man fit for, that don't like pretty scenery and poetry? Nothing but ^treasons, stratagems, and spoils,' as Shakspeare says." " Oh, drat the poetry, and the Shakspeare, and all that. Tell us somethin' worth hearin'. Somethin' that you 've seen this campaign, if you 've got nothin' else," said Bill. " Yes," said John ; " somethin' about this campaign. You've been in it all through, and you must have seen somethin' worth tellin'." "Well, boys," replied Harry, as he put his last piece in his mouth, " I think I can tell you about things that I've seen this campaign, that'll amuse you for awhile. Let me see. You joined the army just before the last battle, I believe ?" "John and I did," replied Bill; "but Joe, over there, has been in service the whole campaign, like ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 387 yourself. Bob, here, joined, he says, after the battle at the Court-House." " Well, Joe can keep himself still, while I tell you three all about the different affairs that have come under my observance. If I get too prosy and dull in my narrative, you must stop me. To begin, then. Guilford Court-House was the first place I ever saw a battle. You may have heard that, just before that battle, Greene was reinforced by two brigades of militia from North Carolina, and one from Virginia, and about four hundred regulars, raised for eighteen months. It was with these regulars that I joined the army. Before we arrived, Greene was desirous of avoiding a battle with Cornwallis, — being in no M^ay equal to him in force ; but after our arrival, he con- cluded that our army was strong enough to risk a battle with the enemy. We were four thousand four hundred strong; but the largest part were militia. Cornwallis had with him about two thousand four hundred men ; and they were chiefly troops who had seen many a victorious field. Our troops were drawn up in three lines. The front was composed of North Carolina militia; the second, of Virginia militia; and the last, of continental troops, commanded by General Huger and Colonel Williams. The battle was opened by a brisk cannonade, in front of the British army ; and then they advanced in three col- umns. The Hessians were on the right, the Guards 388 THE CAMP-FIRE in the centre, and Colonel Webster's brigade on the left. They attacked our front line, which, as I told you, consisted of North Carolina militia; but when they were nearly a hundred and fifty yards off, the militia gave way. The reason was, they were un- trained troops; and the colonel of one of the regi- ments cried out to another officer, at some distance, that ^he would be surrounded.' Now you might guess what ejffect such an announcement would have upon raw troops. They did n't stop to inquire whe- ther it was true or not. That shows the use of hav- ing good officers, and how much depends upon them. The Virginia militia were the next to meet the ad- vance of the enemy ; and they stood their ground, and kept up their fire, till they were ordered to re- treat. That was on account of their having a good and brave commander. General Stevens was the man. He posted forty riflemen, at equal distances, twenty paces in the rear of his brigade, with orders to shoot every man who should leave his post; and although he was wounded in the thigh, he set his men the example, by keeping his place. When the Virginia militia retreated, our turn came. I suppose you know how a man feels when he first goes into battle. In my case, the cause for anxiety was much greater than it generally is. I knew that everything depended upon the regular trooj)s, and that we would have the principal shock of the battle to bear. Then, ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 389 of course, we would have some hard fighting. At first, when I heard the roar of the musketry and cannon, and saw the wounded of the Virginia militia borne past us, I thought that, perhaps, that would be my fate ; and I thought, also, of home and the friends I had left behind me; particularly one very near friend, that I knew was looking with anxiety for my return. But then, as the time for us to engage ap- proached, I thought of the tyranny of the enemy we were fighting against, and that I stood there as the defender of my home and fireside from oppression ; and by the time the order was given for us to engage, every fear of consequence was banished from my mind. I went ahead, heart and soul, intent on doing as much mischief as I could. We fought for an hour, and a half, in the most obstinate and bloody manner. The veteran troops of the British came on with the force and steadiness they had displayed on many former occasions ; and our half-trained regulars met them as if they, too, were veterans. The bravery our troops displayed in that contest of an hour and a half, could not have been surpassed; but discipline triumphed. The enemy broke the second Maryland brigade, turned our left flank, and got in the rear of the Virginia brigade. They even appeared to be gaining on our right, when they would have sur- rounded us; and the General therefore ordered a retreat. We retreated about three miles, and then 33* 390 THE CAMP-FIRE drew up again, expecting the British to follow up their success ; but they had been too much galled for that. The victory, as they called it, beat them so badly that they dared not follow us ; and when we had collected our stragglers, we retreated to Speed- well's Iron- Works, about ten miles from Guilford. I was n't hurt any ; but you must n't infer that I did n't do much fighting. I stood my ground, and blazed away while the men were falling all around me ; and I learned to look death in the face pretty steadily that day. However, I was n't sorry when the battle was over. We had reaped every advantage from the encounter but the bare possession of the field. They had lost six hundred and sixty-three, in killed and wounded, without the officers ; and we had about four hundred killed and wounded. They were com- pelled to retreat from Guilford, soon after the battle, and to leave the wounded they had captured, and seventy-five of their own, in the same condition. We were ready for another battle, as soon as we retired to Reedy Fork ; but they would n't attempt such a thing." " When I went to school," interrupted Bill, " I used to read, in a Roman history we had, about a general that brought a large army into the country of the Romans ; and, in a battle that they fought with the Romans, they were victorious ; but, when the battle was over, the general of the army invading the coun- ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 391 try of the Komaiis, said : — ' Another such a victory, and I am undone.' I guess the British commander might have said the same thing, after that battle you 're speakin' about." "Very true, Bill. The general you mean was named Pyrrhus," replied Harry. " Yes," said Bill. " The loss of the battle — that is, the field — was blamed upon the North Carolina militia ; was n't it ?" asked John. " Yes," replied Harry, " and with very good reason ; they might have given the enemy a severe check, if they had stood their ground. Then, with our regular troops to second them, the victory would have been certain. As it was, the fate of the day was for a long time doubtful." " Well," put in Joe, " go on with the narrative ; will you ?" " All in the proper time," said Harry. " You know that, soon after the battle of Guilford Court-House, Greene marched into South Carolina, which he said he would recover, or die in the attempt." "Yes; we've heard of the noble resolution of Greene," said Bill ; " Joe was tellin' us about that." " Well," continued Harry, " the main body of the army marched against Camden, while Colonel Lee marched to join Marion, on this river here, the Santee, to lay siege to Fort Watson, between Camden 392 THE CAMP-FIRE and Charleston. I was with the main army, and therefore I can't tell you any more about the surren- der of Fort "Watson than you know already. We encamped before Camden. It 's a small village, situ- ated on a plain, covered on the south and east sides by the Wateree and a creek, and was defended on the northern and western sides by six redoubts. The British force there numbered about nine hundred men ; and they w^ere commanded by Lord Rawdon, — a brave and prudent man, be it said. Our army con- sisted of about nine hundred continentals, and two or three hundred militia. The General, of course, wouldn't attempt to take such a post as that by storm, or even think of investing it, with such a force as we had. So, he took post about a mile from Cam- den, and waited to see if the garrison would come out of their lines. We were n't disappointed. The whole British force, under the command of Lord Rawdon, came out to meet us ; and from the arrange- ments we had made, we thought victory was certain. We encountered the British on their advance, and drove them before us, after a short conflict. While they were retreating, pursued by some of our troops, from some mistake or other. Colonel Gurley, who commanded the first Marjdand regiment, ordered them to retire. That order caused our defeat; for the enemy rallied at once, on seeing the Maryland troops retire, and returned to the charge with such ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 393 impetuosity, that we were forced to retire ; buib we did it in such order, that we brought off most of our wounded, all our artillery, and a number of prisoners we had taken. So you see the enemy did n't get anything by our retreat, except the honor of defeating us. That was a great deal, however, to General Greene. He thought the victory certain ; and he had taken measures to cut off the enemy's retreat. It was a bitter disappointment, I tell you, just when we thought we had beaten the enemy, to be defeated by a mistake of an officer. But Camden seemed to be an unlucky place for us. Everything we at- tempted near there failed ; — not from any want of bravery or generalship, but from some cause impos- sible to be foreseen. The British lost about one-third of their whole force, in killed and wounded, and we lost about one-fourth. They retired to Camden, after our retreat ; but Greene had taken such measures to cut off their supplies, that although they received a reinforcement of four or five hundred men, they soon evacuated Camden, and we attained the object of the previous battle. That was a specimen of Greene's generalship. He was just as active after a defeat as before the battle, and nothing could dishearten him." " That was the whole secret of his success in the campaign," said Bill. " He gained his object some- times while sufferin' from a defeat on the field of battle." 394 THE 'camp-fire " But you were tellin' us how you felt on goin' into your first battle," said Bob ; " how did you get along in this one ?" " Oh, boy, a man never has such feelings a second time," rei^lied Harry. " I felt like a veteran. When I heard the roar of the artillery, and mixed in the battle, it seemed like a familiar scene to me. The bullets whistled around my ears, and it seemed like music I had heard before ; and then the charge with the bayonet, when the enemy began to give way ; — I rushed upon them with as hearty a will as I ever did anything." " Yes ; and I suppose when they rallied and turned on you, you left in the same manner," said Bill. " That 's an insinuation, Bill. Of course, I was n't sorry to get away with whole bones ; but I expected to see the red-coats whipped, and did n't feel much like leaving the ground to them." "Well," said Joe, anxious to keep Harry to the point, "go on with your story, or you won't get through before it 's very late." " Well, I left off after the battle before Camden. I '11 tell you about an incident that occurred while we were encamped near that place. After the battle, desertions of the army were increasing to an alarming extent ; and the General resolved to put an end to them, by putting to death any one who should be guilty of desertion, and afterwards taken. This re- ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE, 395 solve was communicated to the army ; but it appears that some of the men either weren't aware of the firmness with which General Greene executed his resolutions, or else the temptations to desert were too strong. However it was, the communication of the General's resolution didn't have much effect. The men continued to desert the same as before. Greene gave orders for their capture wherever they could be found ; and, accordingly, eight men were taken soon after their desertion, and the unbending Greene con- demned them to be hung on one day. The army was ordered out to witness the execution, and the apj)ointed day arrived. I shall never forget the scene presented to us, when the condemned men were al- lowed to take leave of their wives and children, be- fore suffering the rigorous penalty of the crime they had committed. I call it a crime, because it appears to me to deserve that name. To desert a small army like ours, fighting for their homes, in our time of need, after a bloody battle, when we were reduced by the loss in killed and wounded, seems to me to be worthy of being called criminal. The children were clinging to the parent they were about to lose, and the women were not to be consoled, as they hung round the necks of their husbands. I could scarcely bear it myself; but the General, you know, is a man that does n't often waver from his clear line of duty because his feelings are excited. You may have 396 THE CAMP-FIRE heard that, when Andre was undergoing his trial for being a spy, he asked that his punishment by hanging should be commuted to that of being shot ; for he wanted to die like a soldier. All the officers were anxious to grant his request but Greene. He said that Andre was either a spy or an innocent man. If he was a spy, the laws of war prescribed the penalty ; if he was an innocent man, all punishment of him was unjust; and Greene's opinion prevailed. This showed the General's unbending firmness in the exe- cution of the clear line of duty. But I wander away from my story a little too much. The General could not be moved by any such scene. One by one, the men mounted the scaffold which had been erected, and were launched into eternity. I could only look at the first two. I could look calmly on, and see men slain in fighting with their foes in a fair field; then they died as I would wish to die myself But to see men walk up to meet their death like dogs, by the rope, was more than agreed with my nature. I waited anxiously till the last body was cut down, and never felt so relieved in my life, as when we received the order to move from our position. " Ah !" said Bill, " I 've seen some of that kind of work done myself I know pretty near what your feelin's were like." "What our nature revolts at so much, must be wrong," said Harry, argumentatively. "Whatever ON THE HILLS OF SANTEE. 397 the laws of war may be, it seems to me, that putting a man to death because he deserts, is a very fooUsh thing. Desertion is a crime, in some cases, as I said before ; but putting the man to death does n't make him a good soldier. They say, that uphold this pun- ishment, that its object is to prevent the commission of the crime ; and that a punishment not extending to the taking of life wouldn't have that effect; but I do n't believe it. I 'd like to see it have as much of a trial as the other punishment. Then we could tell a little truer about it." " You talk very fine," replied Bill. " I do n't un- derstand the why and wherefore of what you 've been sayin', but it looks as if it would stand to reason. We ought to have a trial of other kinds of punish- ment, before we say that none other will do." " I think a man ought to be hung that deserts his own colors," observed Bob. " No man worth livin' will do it. He never would do any good if he was to be let off. It 's a chance if some of the men that deserted didn't go and join the red-coats that's fightin' against their countrymen; and such men as would do that ought to be strung up without a jury." " You say he '11 never do any good if he was let off," returned Harry. "How do you know that? He might become a good man, and do a thousand good actions, to make reparation for that one bad one. 34 398 CAMP-FIRE ON^HE HILLS OF SANTEE. Men that have done the worst of actions have re- pented, and have done the best." " Oh, go on with your story," said Joe, who hated arguments. " No ; I guess we '11 postpone the rest of the narra- tive till to-morrow night," said Harry ; who, no doubt, had got to thinking on the subject of the death-pen- alty, and did not feel in the humor of any more story- telling that night. " Well," said Bill, " I 'm willin' to go to sleep now. I 've been winkin' some time. But do n't forget where 3^ou left off in the story, Harry." The fire on which the evening meal was prepared had been left to die out, and the men closed the opening in the tent, and wrapped themselves in their blankets. Two or three times, Bill interrupted the gathering silence by some question propounded to Harry ; but Harry seemed moody, and returned very short answers. Bill, therefore, soon got tired of ques- tioning, and the whole party were soon wra^Dped in slumber. THE CAMP-FIRE NEAR CHARLESTON. January, 1783, saw the army of the South, under General Greene, who had so successfully conducted it through the previous campaign, encamped in the neighborhood of Charleston, South Carolina. The army had suffered greatly from the want of provi- sions, ammunition, and all the necessary equipage of a camp. The reason of this was, not the want of supplies in the magazines, but the difficulty of trans- portation. While the army lay within three miles of the enemy, they were four weeks without more ammunition than six rounds to a man ; and had their foes been aware of this circumstance, they might have suffered a total defeat. On the 4th of January preceding, a reinforcement, under General St. Clair, arrived, and General Greene congratulated his army on this accession to their strength. The reinforce- ment was detached from the main army at York town, after the surrender of Cornwallis. The troops were in high spirits, on account of the great triumph they had achieved, and the prospect it opened of their (399) 400 THE CAMP-FIRE speedy return to their homes, and the enjoyment of peace. The men composing the reinforcement were well received by their brethren in arms, to whom the details of the events which had brought about the surrender were most interesting. The watch-fires of the camp never blazed in the midst of groups of men more buoyant in spirits than those which were assem- bled around them in Greene's camp, after the arrival of the troops from Yorktown. Nearly all looked upon the capture of Lord Cornwallis as the termina- tion of hostilities, and to them " G-rim-visaged War had smoothed his wrinkled front." The night was dark and chilly — the severest win- ter nights of South Carolina are not much more. The warmth of the fires was in demand among the troops, and they were well heaped with their neces- sary food. Each had its group of five, or more, and talking and singing filled the hours before the time of seeking repose. Some of the messes were so lucky as to secure visitors from the detachment just arrived from Yorktown, and they took care to make the most of them. To one of this fortunate description we will direct our attention. It was a group of six men, sitting on some small logs they had drawn near the fire. The clothing of most of them was much soiled and worn, and their general appearance of face and feature might be classed in the same description. NEAR CHARLESTON. 401 The one who honored the mess with a visit could readily be distinguished from the rest by a slight difference in the appearance of his clothing, and the general respect which was paid to him by the rest of the men. They were all attention when he spoke ; though there was a cordiality about his manner which would seem capable of banishing all formality. His name was Barton, and he had been introduced and welcomed to the men through the instrumentality of an old comrade of his, by the name of Crisp. Dick Crisp and he had gone through most of the promi- nent battles of the early part of the war, in the same company. But when General Greene took command of the southern army. Crisp's term of service was out ; and his family moving to South Carolina, soon after, he concluded to join his force. He served with Greene through his arduous but triumphant cam- paign, and now, near the close of the war, had the pleasure of meeting his old comrade, Sam Barton. " Ha, ha !" laughed Dick. " You do n't remember all the sport we used to have up there, in old Jersey and New York, along with all our troubles." " Oh, yes," replied Sam, " I '11 never forget some of our doings, even though I do n't see any of my old comrades any more. Dick, I believe you 're the only one left out of all the party of fellows we used to know when you were in our company." " I am !" said Dick, in surprise. " Why, what 's 34* 2 a 402 THE CAMP-FIRE become of Bob Jones ? — Long Bob, we used to call hinij you know." " Oh, he fell at Stony Point," answered Sam. " He was one of the forlorn hope. Poor fellow ! He and I 've seen some great times together." " Then there was Harry Henkins," said Dick. "He was a whole-souled fellow. He tended me, when I was sick, just like a brother." " Yes, there was no mistake about Harry's heart being in the right place," said Sam. " He got sick, and when his term of service was out, he left the army, and I've never seen him since. I think he must have either remained sick to this day, or else have died; for I often heard him say his country should have his arm as long as he was able to shoulder a musket." " Then there was John Higgins," said Dick, mus- ingly. " He 's not dead, too ; is he ?" "Yes; poor John fell at Yorktown, after going through the best part of the war," replied Sam. " I saw him fall. It was just as we were entering a re- doubt we had captured. The last fire of the red-coats killed him." " That was hard," said Dick, " after going through so many hard-fought battles." " Come, come, men, do n't have all the talk to your- selves," remarked another of the group, by the name of Kattler. " We would like to hear something about NEAR CHARLESTON. 403 Yorktown. Can't you oblige us, Barton, with a few of the particulars of the surrender ?" " Oh, yes, I can tell you something about it ; though there was nothing of any consequence done there, except the surrender of Lord Cornwallis." " Oh, do n't tell us that," returned Rattler. " Lord Cornwallis is not the man to surrender without some fighting. Give us some account of it, anyhow." " I '11 tell you what I '11 do," replied Barton. " I '11 tell you about Yorktown, as far as I saw, and then one of you must agree to tell me about something that 's been going on down here. There 's a good many things that you can tell me, that I want to know all about. There 's Eutaw Springs, and the Cowpens, and Camden. Any of them I '11 be glad to hear about." " Bill, here," said Rattler, " was at the Cowpens. I suppose he '11 be willing to tell you." "Certainly," replied Bill, "if he tells us about Yorktown." "Let's have a song from Rattler, first, though," said Dick. "He can sing about as well as anybody I know, and he knows some real stirring songs." "Good," said Sam Barton. "I won't tell about Yorktown till Rattler does sing." " Oh, I do n't want any coaxing," was the reply. " ' Silver and gold have I none ; but such as I have I give unto you.' I do n't think I can sing some of 404 THE CAMP-FIRE the songs I know, but you 're welcome to it, such as it is." " Never mind apologies or quoting Scripture, but just drive on. We all want to hear the song," said Dick. " The song I 'm going to sing," said Rattler, is one of the real grit. It has a chorus that runs this way, — and Rattler hummed over the chorus of the song that follows. " You must all join in ; but do n't sing too loud, or you'll have the sergeant down on us. It is called the * Song of the Revolution.' " The men nodded assent, and Rattler proceeded with his song, in a tolerably clear and sweet voice : — Come, freemen, rally, Your banners fling out, Till the mountain's top Gives back your shout. The trumpet is sounding O'er valley and glen; The sword is unsheath'd For the murder of men ! Death to the tory, Torture and shame ! Death to the tory. Fagot and flame ! King George has declared That we shall not be free, His vengeance is roused For the waste of his tea ! NEAR CHARLESTON. 405 His troops throng our cities, His vessels our ports, And waves Lis proud flag From the tops of our forts! Death to the tory, &c. All blithe is King George As he sitteth on high. And the words which he utters Are, " Worship or die !" And gayly he sits 'Mid the banqueting throng, And listens with joy To the reveller's song. Death to the tory, &c. But his fate is now seal'd. And his power is shaken, And the people at last From their slumber awaken; For their blood has been shed On the green grass sod. And no power now rules them Save that of their God ! Death to the tory. Torture and shame! Death to the tory, Fagot and flame ! " That 's what I call a stirring song," said Barton, when the last discord of voices in the chorus had died away. "'Death to the tory!' I say. I expect they '11 be coming over to our side every day, now, 406 THE CAMP-FIRE when they see we 're the strongest. That 's the way with such folks." " I told you Rattler knew how to do it," said Dick Crisp. " Now we '11 have your story just as quick as you please." " Well, I '11 soon put you in possession of what I know about the surrender," replied Sam. "You must know, in the first place, that we — that is, the brigade which I belong to — waited at Williamsburgh till the arrival of the army of Washington, and also till Count Rochambeau arrived, which was on the 25th of last September. Everything was then pre- pared for us to move towards Yorktown, as soon as possible. You see, Cornwallis with his whole army was at Yorktown, which was strongly fortified. I guess the whole strength of the army, after the French joined us, was about twelve thousand men. Then the militia of Virginia were ordered out, which soon made us a great deal stronger. The day before we marched from Williamsburgh, General Washing- ton told us, in his general orders, if we should meet the red-coats on our march, to place our principal reliance on the bayonet ; so that we might prove how vain was their boasting of their skill in deciding battles with that weapon." "Was Washington commander-in-chief of all the forces — French and American ?" enquired Crisp. " Yes, I believe he was commander-in-chief of the NEAR CHARLESTON. 407 united armies," replied Sam. "All the general orders were issued by him, at any rate. Well, the next day, we started early in the morning, and the front of the army halted about two miles from Yorktown, at sunset of the same day. We were so near the enemy, that General Washington ordered the whole army, officers and soldiers, to lie on their arms all night. I didn't sleep much that night, although I laid down. John Higgins and I talked the best part of the night. You see, John had what they call a presentiment, I believe, that he was going to be killed at Yorktown. As we were lying there, he mentioned it to me. He said he knew he never would march again with the army. I told him it was all fancy, and tried to persuade him out of it ; but he could n't be persuaded. Then says he to me, ' Sam, do n't you think I 've done my duty to my country ?' Says I, ' You know I can't think otherwise, John ; you 've been in her service for about seven years, and en- dured all sorts of toils and sufferings; sometimes without pay, or clothes, or anything to eat. You 've certainly done your duty, and I hope you '11 live to do a great deal more yet.' But he shook his head, mournfully, and did n't say anything more for a while. At last, he said, ' Sam, do you think you '11 ever go back to Springfield ?' — that 's where we both were raised. ' If I live till the war 's over,' said I. ' Then I want to ask a favor of you,' said he. ^I left a 408 THE CAMP-FIRE mother in Springfield, you know. She '11 look for me to come home, when the war's over. I've been writing to her off and on ever since I left home, and sending her what money I could spare. Your parents are both dead, and mother 's poor. Will you see that she don't want, for the little time she has to live on earth ?' I promised him I would, should his fears prove to be true ; and then he grasped my hand, and shook it, while the tears trickled down his cheeks." " Poor John !" said Dick ; and that was all he could say, although his feelings were a good deal stirred by the account of his friend's strange presentiment. " He was a great friend to me," continued Sam, " and I '11 remember his mother, if ever I get back to Springfield. But I 'm wandering away from my nar- rative. Yorktown is situated on the south side of York river, about fifteen miles, I believe, from the Chesapeake. Cornwallis's force in the town amounted to seven thousand men, at least. Our army was en- camped in a semicircle around the place. The Ame- ricans formed the right wing, and the French the left. Well, we lay there, without the British doing anything to hurt us, till the 30th, when we found that they had abandoned three or four of their re- doubts, during the night, and retired within the town. That left us a great deal of commanding ground ; and our troops and a party of French were ordered to ad- vance and take possession of the ground, while some NEAR CHARLESTON. 409 of the other troops threw up breastworks. The British cannonaded all that day ; but they wasted their ammunition; for in the whole day's cannonade they only wounded four militia-men. On that night, we were set to work to throw up two redoubts ; and we had them nearly finished before we were disco- vered by the British. Then they poured their fire at us. But we kept on till we finished our work. On the 3d and 4th of October, they kept up a cannonade all the time ; but they still wasted ammunition. We could see that the red-coats were getting hard-pushed for supplies, by the number of carcasses of horses floating down the river near our quarters. I heard that they killed six or seven hundred of them for want of forage. The rascals resorted to everything they could think of, to injure us ; no matter whether it was allowed by the laws of war or not. They sent a parcel of niggers, who had the small-pox, out of Yorktown, to try to give it to our troops ; but they were driven off, and so that scheme was n't of much benefit to them, or injury to us." " It 's just like 'em," said Dick. " They do n't act like civilized men, no how." " Yes ; no matter how they are treated when they are captured, or how they are spared when they are defeated, they always act like savages," replied Sam. "But, as I said, they didn't succeed that time in their devilish purpose. On the night of the 6th, a 35 410 THE CAMP-FIRE large detachment, in which was our regiment, was sent out, under command of General Lincoln, to open entrenchments near the enemy's lines. The night was very dark, and towards the latter part it was rainy. Everything was conducted as silently as pos- sible. Every officer and soldier knew his proper station ; we moved about a mile from our former position. The working party were ahead, with all their entrenching tools and fascines on their shoulders, and then we followed, armed in full. Behind us, were the wagons and horses, with bags of sand, for throwing up breastworks, and the cannon and ord- nance followed. Well, we worked hard all night, taking turn about, and before daylight we had fin- ished a line two miles in length, and laid the founda- tion for two redoubts within six hundred yards of the British lines. At daylight, they discovered us ; but we were under cover then, and didn't mind their blazing at us. It seemed that the French suffered more than we did. One of them deserted to the British ; and after that the British kept up a constant fire against the French lines, and killed and wounded some of their men. On the 8th and 9th, our troops had a mighty hard time of it, I tell you. They had to labor in the trenches, turn about, every other day and night ; and you know what sort of work that is, Dick." " Yes, indeed, I think I do know something about NEAR CHARLESTON. 411 that." rejolied Dick. " It 's the hardest work I ever was engaged in," " Well, we had it about as hard as anything of the kind you or I ever saw," said Sam. " The weather was pretty cold and damp ; and, when we were re- lieved, we had to sleep in the open field, with only a blanket for a covering. I did n't suffer so much from the cold, because I had come from a colder climate, and had been through some cold winters. On the night of the 9 th, we erected a battery in front of our line, without being annoyed by the British while at work. We soon had two or three batteries ready to open on the town ; and, on the 10th, General Wash- ington put the match to the first gun ; and then the roaring and blazing commenced in real earnest. From the 10th to the 15th, there was a continual fire kept up both by the French and American batteries. It was tremendous. Then there was the return fire from the British. At night, it seemed like a constant thunder-storm, only a great deal more severe. One night, — I forget whether it was the 11th or 12th, — a red-hot shell from the French batteries set fire to the British frigate Charon and two or three smaller vessels. It was a splendid sight. The night was dark, and we could see from our post the ships all in a blaze ; and then the thundering of the cannon, and the flashing of the light they made, with the addition of the shells flying through the air, with a long line 412 THE CAMP-FIRE of fire behind them, made as grand a sight as I ever saw. We had succeeded in throwing up another line of entrenchment nearer to the town, and had bat- teries within three hundred yards of the enemy's lines. This was done in the night, also. But they had two redoubts in front of their principal works, which were in the way of our entrenchments ; and these, it was resolved, should be carried by assault. One of them was on the left of the British garrison, on the bank of the river. This is the one our brigade was to attack, under the command of General Lafayette. The other was to be left to the French. You see, Washington wanted to make us try to excel each other in the attack. He wanted to get our troops and the French excited by a desire to carry the point of attack before each other." "He knew, I suppose, that our troops could beat the Frenchmen at that business," said Rattler. " I do n't suppose he did know any such thing," replied Sam. " The French are good soldiers, let me tell you ; and what we had in our army were some of the best of the French. You must recollect that we were led by a Frenchman — one of the best gene- rals in the army. But I'll leave that matter to others to discuss. I 'm satisfied of the bravery of the French. The assault took place in the night. The advanced body was led on by Colonel Hamilton and Colonel Yimat. It was about eight o'clock when ..Mi NEAR CHARLESTON. 413 it commenced, and the men advanced without firing a gun. I was just behind John Higgins, and I thought of what he had said. He marched up to the work with a firm step, like all the rest. You see, we were going to carry the works altogether by the bayonet, and we had to advance through the fire from the re- doubt. Well, we pushed on after Hamilton and his men ; and such was the ardor of the men, that, al- though there was a tremendous fire from the whole British line, we were in the redoubt in about ten minutes after the assault commenced. I think we had just fairly entered it, when John Higgins fell just ahead of me ; he was shot through the head. I ex- pected that we 'd have some killing to do with the bayonet ; for some of the officers wanted to take re- venge for the slaughter of our troops on two or three occasions. But Colonel Hamilton would n't allow it, and I think he was right. Some of the men that did n't go into the redoubt wanted to know why we did n't kill them all ; as if we could have the heart to kill men that were on their knees, begging for quarter." "No; you did right," said Dick. "There's but little use of our following such an example as the British give us. We 're civilized men, and we ought to keep up our character." " Certainly," replied Sam. " The red-coats actually did go down on their knees to us, begging for quarter. 35* 414 THE CAMP-FIRE The commander of the fort was taken prisoner by Colonel Laurens himself. Then there were thirty of the men taken ; the rest made their escape." " How many did you lose ?" enquired Rattler. " We had only eight men killed, and thirty wound- ed," replied Sam. " I do n't know how many they had killed and wounded; but before we left the fort, I saw a sergeant and eight men lying dead in the ditch." " How did the French make out in their attack ?" asked Bill. " Oh, I do n't know much about the particulars of that attack," was the reply. " I know, however, that they carried the redoubt a little while after we did ours. They lost a good many men, too, I believe." " What was the reason of their being longer about it than you were ?" asked Dick. " Oh, I believe they wanted to go more scientifically about it. They waited till their pioneers cut away the abattis, while we went to work at once, and pulled it away with our hands. They were, of course, ex- posed to the fire of the red-coats a good deal longer than we were. But they did n't flunk a bit. Well, to go on with my story, when these two redoubts were captured, our second line was complete. Then we threw up two or three new batteries in front of that line, and some other works, till we had ap- proached to within three hundred yards of their NEAR CHARLESTON. 415 principal forts. We could see the execution our ar- tillery done, by some of the batteries of the enemy being entirely silenced, and the works almost in ruins. On the 16th, the British made a sally. I suppose .they were getting desperate. About four hundred men made an attack on two unfinished redoubts, which were occupied by the French ; and they made out well, too. They killed several men, and spiked seven or eight pieces of cannon. But the French advanced and drove them back, with the loss of several killed and wounded. By the 17th, we had the whole of our works in operation. There was at least a hundred pieces of different kinds of ordnance, that let loose their thunder and hail on the British works. The firing was so heavy, that the ground seemed to shake under us. We could see the ruin we were making in the town and among their works. Some of their batteries were entirely silenced. I saw where the ground was ploughed up by the shells ; and now and then you would see some of their men torn all to pieces by them. It was really an awful sight. At last, towards the close of that day, (that was the 17th,) two or three flags were seen to come from the British and proceed to head-quarters ; and it was finally agreed to cease firing till the next day. That evening, there was a small party of our com- pany sent over to the other side of the camp, where the French lay, on some business for Lafayette. I 'm 416 THE CAMP-FIRE not sure, but I think it was to bring some baskets of wine from the French commander's. I was with them. It was just after a flag had arrived from the enemy. We had to go by General Washington's head-quarters; and as I saw the door was open, I thought I 'd like to know what was going on. So, I looked around to see if I could find any way of getting at it, and I spied John Burley, on duty as sentinel, near the door of the tent. You know John ; do n't you, Dick ?" " John Burley — John Burley," said Dick, musing. " I think I recollect the name, but I do n't know any- body just now to put it on." " Well, he belongs to Wayne's brigade," continued Sam. " I do n't know what regiment or company it is. He 's a tall, stout fellow, and he 's seen some pretty rough service in this war. He was walking near the door, on duty, and I told the men to go on, and I 'd catch them in a little while. I went back, and began to talk to John about old times, and how he 'd been getting along ; all the time trying to see what was going on inside of Washington's quarters. I asked John ; and he said that a British officer had just gone in with a flag. I knew that, and just asked him, to make him believe I was n't curious about the matter. Just then, I managed to get near the door ; and I looked in, determined to have something to tell my comrades when I got back. There I saw WASHINGTON SENDING HIS ULTIMATUM TO CORNWALLIS. NEAR CHARLESTON. 417 General Washington, standing straight upright, along- side of the table. He was just handing some papers, or a letter, — I could n't see which, — to a British officer, who was about to leave. You know what a noble-looking figure and face he has. He looked prouder than I ever saw him before. Two or three of his aids were sitting on the other side of the table. I could n't get more than a glance at things inside, before John beckoned me away. But he told me that General Washington was just sending his 'ultimatum,' I think he called it, to Lord Cornwallis." "What's an ultimatum?" asked Rattler. " Why," replied Sam, a little hesitatingly, " it 's a sort of a last statement of terms, upon which two generals, that are fighting against each other, can ar- range a peace or a surrender. That is, if the whipped general don't accept this ultimatum, he '11 have to continue to fight. Washington knew he had Corn- wallis safe enough, and he made him come into the terms that suited us. Cornwallis wanted to march out, with his colors flying; but General Lincoln was n't allowed that honor at Charleston, and Wash- ington wanted Cornwallis to come into the same terms. Well, I bid John good-bye, and hurried on after the men, full of news of what I had seen and heard. The next morning, we found that Cornwallis had tried to make his escape down the river, in boats, in the night. Well, that morning, the commissioners 2b 418 THE CAMP-FIRE were appointed to arrange terms of capitulation ; and we still remained quiet in our works, till we heard that everything had been settled, and that the British army were to march out and lay down their arms. Then we almost jumped for joy at our triumph. We had plenty of good eating and drinking given to us, as soon as it was known that the red-coats had agreed to surrender ; and we had a jolly time of it through- out the camp." " I 'd have given twenty dollars to have been on the ground at the time of the surrender," said Dick ; " and that 's a big sum of money for one in my con- dition." " Yes, it was a sight worth seeing, Dick," said Sam. " It would have been a good deal more to you men, though, than it was to us ; because you 've had so many skrimmages with them. The surrender took place on the 19 th of October. The red-coats were to march out with shouldered arms, colors cased, and their drums beating a British or German march. All the marines and seamen of their ships were to be prisoners of war to the navy of France, and the land troops to the United States. All their military and artillery stores were to be given to us unimpaired. One thing that galled us most, was the escape of the most rascally of the tories. You see. General Wash- ington arranged the terms so, that the tories were to be delivered to us without any conditions for their NEAR CHARLESTON. 419 treatment. But Cornwallis contrived to get him to allow a vessel to go to New York, with despatches to Sir Henry Clinton, without the vessel's being searched. In this way, the tories that General Washington most wanted to get hold of, were smuggled to New York." " That was an ingenious contrivance," said Dick. " Them infernal tories are what you ought to have caught particularly. I know in the South, here, they 've all deserved hanging." " Yes ; not only in the South, but everywhere else in the States," replied Sam. " But they got off there, anyhow. About twelve o'clock, on the 19th, we were all drawn up in two lines, extending more than a mile in length. The Americans were drawn up on the right side of the road, and the French were on the left. At the head of our line, the great Wash- ington was stationed, with his aids ; and at the head of the French line was Count Rochambeau and his aids. There was almost as many people there, from the neighborhood, to see the surrender, as there was troops; but all was in good order. I think the French looked about as handsome and soldierlike in their uniforms as any body of troops I ever saw. They had some splendid bands of music, too, which added a great deal to the novelty of the scene. You might suppose we did n't look near so well as they did, for we were not all in uniform ; and what troops were in uniform did n't look very neat." 420 THE CAMP-FIRE " Yes, I suppose the French made the best show ; they always do," observed Dick. " They really looked well, that day, and no mis- take," continued Sam. " But they never would have looked so, if they had seen the service most of our troops had seen. About two o'clock, when the British army began to move through the two lines, I was looking to see Cornwallis, as was most of the troops and people. Just as they came in sight, I saw an officer, on a splendid horse, dressed in a complete British general's uniform. Jack Hand was standing next to me, and he got on his tiptoes to look at him. ^ There 's Cornwallis, now,' said he ; and all around us began to murmur and whisper, ' There he comes !' * There 's Cornwallis !' But when the general got nearer, I saw it was n't Cornwallis ; for I had seen him two or three times before. I saw him at Ger- mantown very clearly, and I knew that he was n't the man that was coming up. As soon as it got to be known, everybody looked disappointed. It turned out to be General O'Harra, who had been appointed to supply the place of Cornwallis, who pretended he was sick — ' indisposed,' he called it. I guess he was indisposed to show himself at the head of his con- quered army, because he was too proud. A com- mander who won't share the troubles of his troops, as well as their victories and conquests, ought to be shot; that's my opinion." NEAR CHARLESTON. 421 " That would n't have been the course of Washinir- ton," said Rattler. " If his troops had been compelled to surrender, he would have been at the head of the column." " Well, you know there 's a great deal of difference between the characters of Cornwallis and Washino;- ton," replied Sam. "After General O'Harra, came the red-coat army. They were dressed in full uni- form, and looked well enough, as far as that goes ; but their ranks were broken, and they had an irre- gular step. They seemed to feel the disgrace they had to bear, and some of them hung their heads. Their arms were shouldered, and their drums beat a British march. When they got to the head of our line. General O'Harra rode to the commander-in-chief, and, taking off his hat, apologized for the absence of Lord Cornwallis. General Washington pointed to General Lincoln, for directions. That general con- ducted the British army to a large field, just beyond our lines, but within our view. There was the trial for the dogged, obstinate Britons. Their platoon officers gave the word, ' Ground arms !' and they threw their muskets on the pile as if they wanted to break them, till General Lincoln put a stop to it. When they had finished laying down their arms, they were all escorted back to Yorktown, by our troops, to stay there till they could be removed to the in- terior of Maryland. The British troops stationed at 36 422 THE CAMP-FIRE Gloucester surrendered, about the same time, to the French general, De Choise." '•' Then, I suppose, you Americans marched into camp, to the tune of Yankee Doodle ; did n't you ?" enquired Dick. " Yes, we were in high spirits," replied Sam. " The people who had come from all parts of the neighbor- ing country, to see the surrender, cheered us loudly, I tell you, as soon as they heard that tune. It set them in such spirits that they could n't contain them- selves. They burst out in cheer after cheer. It was a great day for us." " How large was the army that surrendered ?" en- quired Rattler. "The troops, of every kind, that surrendered, amounted to at least seven thousand," replied Sam. " But there was so many sick and wounded, that it was found there was only about four thousand capable of bearing arms. Then there was fifteen hundred seamen, who shared the fate of their army. I think there was about a hundred and thirty cannon and mortars, brass and iron together, that became our property ; there were, also, about eight thousand good muskets." " What was the loss on both sides, during the siege ?" enquired Dick. " I hardly know what the loss of the British was," replied Sam. " The American troops lost twenty- NEAR CHARLESTON. 423 seven killed and seventy-three wounded. The French lost fifty killed and one hundred and twenty-seven wounded. I think the loss of the British was more than five hundred, anyhow." " Well, they may congratulate themselves upon getting off" with so small a loss," said Dick ; " for, I suppose, if they had held out a little longer, they would have been cut up horribly." " No mistake about that," replied Sam. " I 'm sure I could n't give you an idea how things looked in Yorktown. I went all through it, soon after the siege. Some of the houses were very much like honeycomb. Furniture and books were scattered all over the ground, and the carcasses of men and horses could be seen, half covered with earth. In some places, the ground was thrown up into mounds, by the force of our shells. I did n't see any place a man could have stood in, where he could be safe. It was no wonder they surrendered." " It would have been best for them to have done it some time before ; it would have saved life," said Bill. " But Cornwallis thought only of his reputation. It was pride made him hold out." " That 's all ; there 's not much doubt about it," replied Sam. "But it's getting pretty late in the night. I 'm afraid we won't hear about the Cowpens^ if Bill don't soon get at the telling of it." " Plenty of time, if you 're not sleepy," returned 424 THE CAMP-FIRE Bill. " The battle of the Cowpens won't detain you long. It was a short action, but a confounded hot one." "I'm anxious to hear about it," said Sam. "I know what General Morgan is. I know there must have been a hot action. Let me see. Tarleton was the British leader ; was n't he ?" " Yes ; Colonel Tarleton was their leader," was the reply. " He 's a sort of celebrated character down this way. But Morgan was too much for him." " Well, go on. Bill ; let 's hear about the Cowpens," said Sam. " In the first place, there 's no time to tell you about the manoeuvring we had just before the battle," began Bill, " any more than that we were posted be- yond the Wateree, to watch the movements of the enemy at Camden and Wynsborough. We took our position on the 25th of December, 1781. We were under the command of General Morgan, and num- bered, after we were joined by Pickens's militia, about seven hundred in all. There was our infantry, under Colonel Howard, numbering about three hun- dred ; about one hundred and seventy-five Virginia riflemen; and about seventy light dragoons, under the dashing Colonel W^illiam Washington. The North and South Carolina militia numbered about two hundred, under Colonel Pickens. Well, about the 15th of January, General Morgan got word from NEAR CHARLESTON. 425 General Greene, putting him on his guard against a detachment he said was coming against us. Morgan thought it would be the best plan to keep out of a battle as long as possible, with such a small number of troops as he had, and he concluded to retreat from our position. On the 16th, our scouts brought us word that more than a thousand of the red-coats, under Colonel Tarleton, were coming in pursuit of us. They had seen them. So Morgan thought there was no time to lose, and we moved off in quick time ; and it was well we did; for we heard, afterwards, that Tarleton was on the same ground about three hours after we had left. We marched all night, over the roughest ground, and through marshes, till we came to a place where Morgan thought there was a good chance for making a stand. It was an open wood, called the Cowpens, near the Pacolet river. Before daylight, we were all drawn up in order of battle. The North and South Carolina militia, under Colonel Pickens, formed the first line, which was advanced a few hundred yards before the second, with orders to form on the right of the second, when forced to give way. Our light infantry, and the Virginia riflemen, composed the second line, which was commanded by Colonel Howard. The cavalry of Colonel Washing- ton, and about forty mounted militia, under Colonel M'Call, were some distance in the rear. I suppose you can understand this disposition ; can't you ?" 36* 426 • THE CAMP-FIRE "Oh, yes, I understand the line of battle," replied Sam. " I 've seen many a one drawn up in the same manner." " AVell, if you understand it, I'll go on," said Bill. "Just at daylight, we caught sight of the enemy, coming up as fast as they could. They did n't wait even to form their line. Tarleton .was so sure of vic- tory, that he gave the order to advance while they were forming. On they came, with a shout, and poured their fire into us ; but Pickens's militia were ordered to keep their fire till the enemy were within forty or fifty yards, and then throw it into them. They did their duty ; but though the infantry of the enemy suffered a considerable loss, they pressed on, and the militia had to give way. I forgot to tell you that the British had two field-pieces, and we had none ; that was another advantage, besides their numbers and discipline. Well, then our turn came, as the militia give way, and we stood our ground, and delivered our fire with terrible effect, till they came upon us too thick and fast, and we fell back to the cavalry. We were the only regular continental troops on the field. About the time we fell back, Colonel Ogilvie, of the British cavalry, charged on our right flank, with about forty men ; and he was cutting down the militia at a butchering rate, when Colonel Washington charged them with his dragoons, and beat them back in confusion. Just as that was NEAR CHARLESTON. 427 done, we saw that so many of the British had fallen, especially officers, that they were too few to follow up their advantage, and that Tarleton's cavalry did n't move to their assistance ; and Colonel Howard rallied our whole force, and charged the foe with fixed bayo- nets. You never saw a set of men more astonished. They thought they had defeated us. The militia rallied about the same time, and charged on them. The advance fell back, and that started the whole of them. Nearly three hundred horse, that had not been engaged, fled through the woods, in confusion. The cannon was soon secured by our troops, after killing and wounding almost all that had been de- tached to manage them. Their infantry was thrown into confusion, as we pressed on with the bayonet; and Colonel Howard called out to them to lay down their arms, and they should have quarter. I guess about five hundred of their splendidly-equipped in- fantry laid down their arms to our militia and our continentals together. Colonel Washington pursued their cavalry for several miles ; but the best part of them escaped. I heard, since, that Tarleton received a cut on the hand, from Washington, so near was he on to him ; but he escaped. The only infantry that got off, was a body left to guard the baggage. They destroyed part of the baggage that they couldn't carry off", and away they went, on the spare horses and in the wagons. They all escaped." 428 THE CAMP-FIRE " Ho, ho, ho !" laughed Sam. " That was a victory. How many did you lose, and how many did they lose ? Tell us all the particulars." " We only had twelve killed and sixty wounded," replied Bill. " Think of that. They had ten com- missioned officers and a hundred rank and file, killed, and two hundred wounded. Twenty-nine commis- sioned officers, and more than five hundred privates, fell into our hands as prisoners. I felt pretty savage for awhile, because the Colonel would n't let us kill some of the red-coats we took. They were about as big a set of rascals as ever breathed. If we had been defeated, they would have cut us all off" without mercy. But I got over my feelings, when I got a little cooler. I do n't believe a man was killed after he had surrendered. The two pieces of cannon we captured, had seen some strange travels. They had been taken from the British, at Saratoga, and then retaken by them, at Camden, and now recovered by us again. There were two standards, eight hundred muskets, thirty-five baggage-wagons, and a hundred dragoon horses, taken." " That was as glorious a victory as was ever gained by any troops," remarked Sam. "Only think of about half as many militia as there were regular British troops, not only defeating them, but killing or capturing almost the whole force ! It was really great." NEAR CHARLESTON. 429 "You may well say that," returned Dick; "but the best of it was, that it happened just at the time when our troops and friends were in the lowest spirits. That made it seem more glorious ; and Con- gress voted a gold medal to General Morgan, and silver ones to Howard and Washington." " Yes ; and a sword to Pickens," added Bill. " The militia done their duty that day, and Pickens de- served something handsome." " Well, I '11 have to get you fellows to tell me more about the Southern campaign when you get time," said Sam. "But I'll go to my quarters, now." " I '11 see you again, to-morrow, Sam," said Dick. '' Good-night." After bidding their visitor good-night, the men arranged the fire, and prepared themselves for repose, with the exception of Dick, who was left on duty as sentinel. There we will leave him to muse on the comrades he had lost during the war ; the memory of them having been awakened by the narrative of Sam Barton. 0^: THE OFFICERS' CAROUSAL. The Wear was ended in all but the name. A treaty of peace had not yet, however, been concluded be- tween the government of Great Britain and her re- bellious — because liberty-loving — child. The greater part of the army of Washington proceeded north- ward, soon after the capture of Cornwallis ; and, after a greaLmany movements from place to place, we find them, on 'the 31st of ^August, 1783, encamped at Ver- planck's Point, qA th6 Hudson River, opposite Stony Point. The troops were improving greatly in disci- pline and appearance, under the able management of the commander-in-chief, and all were in the best spirits. It was a lovely moonlight night — such as Septem- ber, in i& early stage, alone can furnisl^. The white tents of the encampment, arranged in parallel lines, presented a singular sight to the distant spectator, while the lonely sentinels, removed from their com- panions, could not but enjoy the cool air, and the beauty of the night. Some of the tent-doors were (430) THE officers' CAROUSAL. 431 pushed aside, to admit the light of the sweet lamp of heaven, to serve in the place of dimmer, yet more glaring, luminaries. From these, the hum of conver- sation or the voice of song issued upon the night. To one of them we turn our attention, and record what is said and done. Three ofiicers are seated upon their camp-stools, at a common-looking table, passing the time in the joviality inspired by the rosy liquid they imbibe from their well-filled glasses. Crackers and cheese added their comforting influence to the carousal, serving to make the fare more substantial. The accoutrements of the three were thrown upon the floor ; alongside of the table, were a pitcher of water and a bottle of champagne, waiting till its pre- decessor upon the table should be emptied. One of the officers was evidently older than the other two, and had seen harder service, — judging from his ap- pearance. The other two were in the full bloom of manhood. "Now, Merton, tell us one of your stories," said the youngest of the ofiicers, to the eldest. " We are just in the humor for it." " I suppose I have told you about Charlie Morgan ; have n't I?" " Never heard you," was the reply. " Well, then, I '11 tell you, now, all I know about Charlie." Here the speaker, as is customary among story- 432 THE officers' carousal. tellers, about to begin, took a drink, assumed an easy posture, and commenced : — Charlie Morgan, the son of a respectable farmer in Jersey, one day took it into his wise head to " list." " Mother," said he, " I want to 'list in the army." " Lord o' marcy !" exclaimed the old woman, put- ting up her hands, and, in her astonishment, dropping her stocking, (to the great delight of a sly kitten, who immediately seized upon it,) "what? do you want to be a soger ?" " Yes, I do," answered Charlie. "And go away and leave your poor mother, and your old daddy ?" " Why, mother, it is for the good of you both, that I want to go. I shall earn a heap of money." Here he " put the case " in the most tempting man- ner to the old lady 5 who, when she had in some measure recovered from her astonishment, promised to speak to her "old man," and to persuade him into giving his consent to Charlie's wishes. Her son put on his hat, and stepped to the cottage door. " But, my boy," said his mother, " there 's Jenny, — what '11 she say ?" Now, Charlie Morgan, who was as fine-looking a specimen of a rustic as ever walked the ground, with black eyes, under a quantity of curling brown hair, a tall, stalwart figure, and erect walk, had found favor in the sight of Jenny Commel, a pretty, blue- THE officers' CAROUSAL. 433 eyed damsel of eighteen, the daughter of his next- door neighbor ; and his sudden determination to enlist was the result of an attack of jealousy. " Never you mind, mother," said he, in reply to her last question, " I '11 settle matters with Jenny." Whereupon, he walked into the garden, out of the gate, up the gravel walk of the next yard, and finally stood still, opposite Miss Jenny, who was industri- ously spinning, at her door. "Good afternoon. Miss Commel," said Charlie, stiffly. " I did not expect to find you at home ; I thought you would certainly be out taking a pleasant walk with George Cobert, the dunce." " George Cobert 's no dunce !" answered Jenny, firing up; "he's a brave man, and a good soldier; not a man to stay at home, working on a farm, when his country 's sufiering !" " The deuce !" thought Charlie. " I 'm in a fair way of ' biting off my nose, to spite my face.' Jenny likes this soldiering." " Besides," continued Jenny, " you was n't very far wrong in your guess ; he '11 be here directly, to take me to ride." " The devil !" exclaimed Charlie ; who straightway put on his hat, strode out of the garden, and enlisted that very evening, and set out for the army, without so much as informing Jenny of his intentions, or bidding her good-bye. He joined the Jersey brigade, 37 2 c 434 THE office'rs' carousal. and proving a good soldier, attracted the attention of General Lafayette. That officer, in the course of movements on the James River, being anxious to procure exact information as to the force under Corn- wallis, proposed to Charlie Morgan, and to George Cobert, that one of them should enter the British camp, in the character of a deserter, in order to spy out their plans. Charlie undertook the perilous en- terprise ; merely stipulating that, if he was detected and hanged as a spy, General Lafayette would cause it to be inserted in the Jersey newspapers, that he had acted under the orders, and according to the com- mands, of that officer. Escaping the dangers of the journey, the pretended deserter succeeded in passing the British lines, and was conducted into the presence of Cornwallis. That general, seated in his tent, began to question Charlie. " My good fellow," said he, " why did you desert the American army ?" " Oh, your lordship," replied Charlie, " when I first entered the American army, at the beginning of the war, I was put under George Washington's command, and I wjis satisfied to serve under him ; but, now that they have gone and put me and the rest under the command of the Frenchman, Mister Lafayette, there, I did not like it at all ; and that 's why I deserted." " Then I suppose you want to enter this army, and serve us, and fight for our cause ?" asked Cornwallis. THE officers' CAROUSAL. 435 "Yes, if it please your lordship, I should like it exceedingly," answered Charlie. "Very well; I will receive you," replied Corn- wallis ; and Charlie was accordingly received without suspicion. He was punctual and exact in discharging his duties as a British soldier, and meantime very carefully observed and treasured up in his remem- brance all that passed around him. Nothing was suffered to escape his quick observation. One day, while he was on duty with his comrades, the British soldiers, Lord Cornwallis, who was in earnest conver- sation with some of his officers, called to Charlie, and when he approached, asked him, " How long, my good fellow, do you think it will take Lafayette to cross the James River ?" " Three hours, your lordship," was the quick reply. " Three hours !" ejaculated Cornwallis ; " are you sure ? I should have supposed that it would have required at least three days." " Oh ! bless your soul, no ! your lordship," answered Charlie. " The General, there, has so many boats ; each boat will carry so many men ; and if your lord- ship will merely take the trouble and time to calculate all that, you will come to the conclusion that he can cross in three hours, instead of three days, your lord- ship." At the conclusion of this speech of Charlie's, Lord Cornwallis turned to his officers, and, in the hearing 436 THE officers' carousal. of the young American, said, " Our scheme will not answer at all, then." Charlie Morgan now resolved to abandon his new friends ; and, in order to escape, he determined to ply his companions with liquor, until they should be in high spirits, from the effects of the grog. " What will you take to drink ?" said he to some of them, one day. " Oh, we '11 go and ' grog,' " answered they. " Well, come along," said Charlie ; who accordingly gave them all, four in number, as much as they could drink; and when he had succeeded in somewhat clouding their intellectual faculties, and lessening their reasoning powers, he began to complain of the wants of the British troops, and to paint in glowing colors the luxuries enjoyed by the American army ; extolling the kindness of the officers, the privileges granted to the soldiers, and, above all, tickling the appetites of his comrades, by a glowing description of the abundant and excellent provisions; and, in conclusion, he proposed to them to desert. They agreed to accompany him, and left it to him to manage the sentinels. This, Morgan agreed to do. When he reached the first sentinel, he offered him, in an apparently friendly manner, a draught of rum from his canteen. "Here, take a drink," said Charlie, offering him the canteen. THE officers' CAROUSAL. 437 " Thank you ; that's just what I was wishing for/' replied the man, taking the canteen from Morgan's hand ; but while he was drinking, Charlie seized his arms, and then proposed to him to desert with him and his companions ; which proposition the man was obliged to accept, from necessity. Arrived at the next sentinel's post, Charlie served him in the same way ; and he, too, fell into the snare, and accepted his proposals. The third sentinel shared the same fate ; and when Charlie arrived at the American camp, his ' suite ' consisted of seven British deserters ! On his presenting himself before Lafayette, to whom he was immediately conducted, the General exclaimed, " Well, my good friend, Charlie Morgan ! have you got back ?" " Oh, yes, here I am at last, please your excellency, and I have brought seven more with me." " Ah, indeed," said Lafayette ; " where are they ?" " Here, your excellency," replied Charlie ; " if you will just step out to the front of your tent, I '11 show them to you." " The General, accordingly, on leaving the tent, was shown the seven British deserters, who composed Charlie's retinue. General Lafayette offered Charlie money. " No, I thank your excellency," replied he ; sturdily declining any pecuniary recompense for his important services ; merely requesting to be allowed to resume his position in his company. 37=^ 438 THE officers' carousal. " But, my good fellow," said Lafayette, " would you not like to be raised to the rank of corporal ?" " No, I thank your excellency ; I am content to be what I am in the American army — a common sol- dier." " Perhaps the rank of sergeant may have some attractions for you, then ?" persisted the General. " No, your excellency," was the reply ; " I will not have any promotion. I have abilities and talents as a common soldier, and I have as such a good charac- ter : should I be promoted, my abilities may not answer to my rank ; and then, you know, I may lose my former character. There is, however," continued Charlie, " one request which I would make, of your excellency J and that is, that my fellow deserters, here," pointing to the British soldiers, "may have shoes, stockings, and under garments, and jackets, provided for them, as well as for myself" This request was straightway granted; and the General gave orders that all the wants of the de- serters, as well as Charlie's, should be attended to, and supplied. Charlie Morgan served a long time in the army ; but after this first exploit, married the pretty Jenny Commel, with great rejoicing. That was a merry wedding. I danced at it ; and Jenny makes Charlie a good wife. Here the narrator ceased. THE officers' CAROUSAL. 439 " Now it 's your turn," said the second officer, ad- dressing the third, "to contribute to our entertain- ment. Will you favour us with some story ?" "Willingly," replied Wethering, the officer thus addressed. " I am sensible that I am about to repeat a thrice-told tale ; but there is so much appearance of romantic gallantry in Colonel Barton's exploit, that I trust I shall be pardoned for making still another effiDrt to keep it in view of all who delight to give to patriotic enterprise the applause which is its due. Sometime in July, 1777, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, having received information that Major-General Pres- cottj who commanded the British and foreign troops, on Rhode Island, had established his head-quarters at a country house, at some distance from the main body of his army, resolved on the attempt to bring him off as his prisoner. To accomplish his purpose, thirty-eight men were selected from the line ; who, being embarked in five boats, set out on the expedi- tion. The task they had to perform was difficult and dangerous. The British posts on , the island were many and strong, and reported to be ever on the alert ; while a considerable naval armament protected it, on every side, from invasion. The ships and guard-boats being passed in the dead of the night, with muffled oars, and no discovery made, Lieutenant- Colonel Barton landed his party; and having first secured the sentinel, entered the General's apartment, 440 THE officers' carousal. and took him from his bed. His aid-de-camp made a desperate attempt to escape, by leaping from a win- dow ; but he was pursued, and speedily secured, also. Expedition was not only necessary, but essential for safety. A large body of dragoons lay in the neigh- borhood; and signal-rockets, discharged in the air from different quarters, showed that a general alarm had already spread. Every comfort was afforded the prisoners, that circumstances would allow ; and Lieu- tenant-Colonel Barton had, at early dawn, the good fortune to land them in safety, after a passage of ten miles, at the spot, within the American lines, from which he had set out. "I remember, many years since, to have heard a highly-respectable clergyman say, that, in the year 1746, he resided on the postrroad between CuUodeu and Aberdeen ; and that, in the evening of the day on which the battle was fought, on which the fate of the empire depended, he had received into his house an English officer, from the South, hastening to join the Duke of Cumberland's army. During the night, the aid-de-camp, carrying the news of victory to Lon- don, demanded hospitality also ; and fully relating the extent of the triumph over the forces of the Pre- tender, the Englishman exclaimed, ' Would to Heaven I had that formidable rebel, Gordon of Glenbucket, as my prisoner ! I would fasten him up in a cage, and carry him through England, as a show ; where THE officers' CAROUSAL. 441 his terrific name has made such an impression, that there is not a clown throughout the country, who does not believe that he eats one child, at least, for his morning's breakfast ! I should speedily make a most ample fortune.' I was present when a particular friend of my own, sometime after Colonel Barton's successful expedition, addressing him with a very serious air, said, ^ I wish, my dear Barton, that I had you caged, that I might show you as the hero who made prisoner the renowned and formidable British general, Prescott. I would ask no better income than the cash that would be received from the exhibition.' The Colonel appeared delighted at the thought ; and I seriously believe, if a cage had been in preparation, he would have cheerfully stepped into it, for the plea- sure of enjoying the wonder and astonishment that would have been displayed, when the gaping specta- tors discovered that he was hut a man."" The third officer, a young man named Wallace, was then called upon for a story, and gave the fol- lowing : — "At a convivial meeting, (at which the healths of the captors of Andre had been drunk, and a toast proposed to the memory of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins, who achieved the capture of Joseph Bettys, a noto- rious traitor and spy,) the venerable Colonel Ball, who presided, made the statement which follows : — * During the war of the Revolution, I was an officer 442 THE officers' carousal. in a New York line, in the regiment commanded by Colonel Wynkoop. Being acquainted with Bettys, who was a citizen of Ballston, and knowing him to be bold, athletic, and intelligent in an uncommon de- gree, I was desirous of obtaining his services for my country, and succeeded in enlisting him as a sergeant. He was afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account of some insolence to an officer, who he said had abused him without a cause. Knowing his irritable and de- termined spirit, and unwilling to lose him, I procured him the rank of sergeant, in the fleet commanded by General Arnold, (afterwards a traitor,) on Lake Champlain, in '76. Bettys was in that desperate fight, which took place in the latter part of the cam- paign, between the British and American fleets on that lake ; and being a skilful seaman, was of signal service during the battle. He fought until every commissioned officer on board his vessel was killed or wounded, and then assumed the command himself, and fought with such reckless courage, that General Waterbury, who was second in command under Ar- nold, perceiving that the vessel was likely to sink, was obliged to order Bettys, and the remainder of his crew, on board his own vessel ; and having noticed his extraordinary bravery and conduct, he stationed him on the quarter-deck, by his side, and gave orders through him ; until the vessels becoming altogether crippled, the men mostly killed, himself wounded, THE officers' CAROUSAL. 443 and only three officers left, the colors were struck to the enemy. General Waterbury afterwards told my father, that he never saw a man behave with such deliberate desperation as Bettys. And the shrewd- ness of his management showed that his conduct was not inferior to his courage. After the action, Bettys went to Canada, — turned traitor to his country, — re- ceived an ensign's commission in the British army, — became a spy,— and proved himself a most dangerous and subtle enemy. He was at length arrested, tried, and condemned to be hung at West Point. But the entreaties of his aged parents, and the solicitations of influential wliigs, induced General Washington to pardon him, on promise of amendment. But it was in vain. The generosity of the act only added rancor to his hatred ; and the whigs of that section of the country, especially of Ballston, had deep occasion to remember the traitor, and to regret the unfortunate lenity they had caused to be shown him'. He re- cruited soldiers for the King, in the very heart of the country. He captured and carried off the most effi- cient and zealous patrols, and subjected them to the greatest suffering; and those against whom he had particular malice, lost their dwellings by fire, or lives by murder; and all this, while the British com- mander kept him in employ, as a faithful and most successful messenger, and a cunning and intelligent spy. No fatigue wearied his resolution, no distance 444 THE officers' carousal. was an obstacle to his purpose, and no danger ap- palled his courage. No one felt secure. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, he came by stealth upon us ; and sometimes, in the middle of the noonday, he was prowling about, as if unconscious of danger. He boldly proclaimed himself a desperado — that he carried his life in his hand — that he was as careless of it as he should be of that of others, should they undertake to catch him — that his liberty was guarded by his life ; and whoever should undertake to deprive him of it, must expect to mingle their blood with his. And it was well understood, that what Bettys said, Bettys meant ; and as well ascertained, that when he came among us, to perpetrate his mischief, he gene- rally brought with him a band of refugees, and con- cealed them in the neighborhood, to assist him to accomplish his purposes. Still, there were many who resolved on his apprehension, be the danger what it might ; and many ineffectual attempts were made for that purpose. But he eluded all their vigilance, till sometime in the winter of '81-82, when a suspicious stranger was observed in the neighborhood, in snow- shoes, and well armed. Cory and Fulmer, on inform- ation from Perkins, immediately armed themselves, and, with the latter, proceeded in pursuit. They traced him, by a circuitous track, to the house of a tory, and then, by a sudden effort, bursting open the door, rushed upon him and seized him, before he had THE officers' CAROUSAL. 445 an opportunity of effecting any resistance. He was at his meal, with his pistols lying on the table, and his rifle resting on his arm ; he made an attempt to discharge the latter ; but not having taken the pre- caution to undo the deerskin cover that was over the lock, did not succeed. He was then pinioned so closely, that to resist was useless, and to escape im- possible. And the notorious Bettys, cheated of all his threats, and foiled in his most particular resolu- tion, was obliged to yield himself a tame and quiet prisoner to the daring of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins. He asked leave to smoke ; which being granted, he took out his tobacco, and, with something else, when unobserved as he hoped, he threw it into the fire. Cory, however, saw it, and immediately snatched it out with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, and contained a paper in cipher, which they could not read ; but it was afterwards discovered to be a des- patch to the British commander at New York, and also an order for thirty pounds sterling, on the Mayor of New York, should the despatch be safely delivered. Bettys begged leave to burn it, but was refused ; he offered them a hundred guineas if he might be al- lowed to do it ; but they steadily refused. He then said, ' I am a dead man,' but continued to entreat them to allow him to escape. He made the most liberal offers — a part of which he had present means 38 446 THE officers' carousal. to make good; but they refused to listen to him. He was then taken to Albany, tried, convicted, and executed as a spy and traitor to his country ; and the only reward these daring men ever received for their hazardous achievement, was the rifle and pistols of Bettys ! The conduct of the captors of Andre was noble; but that of the captors of Bettys was both noble and heroic. Andre was a gentleman, and with- out the means of defence. Bettys was fully armed, and known to be a desperado. The capture of the former was by accident ; that of the latter, by enter- prise and design. That of the former, without dan- ger ; that of the latter, at the imminent peril of life. Andre was a more important, but, perhaps, not a more dangerous man than Bettys. Both tempted their captors with all-seducing gold, and both were foiled. And Paulding, Williams, and Van "Wart, though venerated in the highest degree by me, as having exhibited a trait of character honorable to the reputation of their country, have not, in my estimation, claims to celebrity superior to those of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins.' The President having concluded, the toast was drunk, amidst the most thundering applause." " Such applause, in fact," continued Wallace, " as I deserve from you," (turning to his companions,) for my story." His companions gave him "three rounds," and THE officers' CAROUSAL. 447 then, after discussing the merits of the respective captors of Andre and Bettys, and also finishing an- other bottle of champagne, the three ofiicers retired to their quarters. THE END, H 47 ^^ •''* °o s'^. .*i°^ vV 'bV" y \/?*^^\^^^' vT!^*'/' 'v^'^v^ jPvN, JP-^K ^O. .•^0.