A Soldier of Virginia Part 2

For a moment neither of us spoke. My eyes were wet at thought of the scene which I so well remembered, and when I turned to him, I saw that he was still brooding over this defeat, which had rankled as a poisoned arrow in his breast ever since that melancholy morning we had marched away from the Great Meadows with the French on either side and the Indians looting the baggage in the rear. As we reached my quarters, we turned by a common impulse and continued onward through the darkness.

"This expedition must be more fortunate," he said at last, as though in answer to his own thought. "A thousand regulars, as many more provincials, guns, and every equipage,--yes, it is large enough and strong enough, unless"--

"Unless?" I questioned, as he paused.

"Unless we walk headlong to our own destruction," he said. "But no, I won't believe it. The general has been bred in the Coldstreams and knows nothing of frontier fighting. But he is a brave man, an honest man, and he will learn. Small wonder he believes in discipline after serving half a century in such a regiment. Have you ever heard the story of their fight at Fontenoy, ten years since, when they lost two hundred and forty men? I heard it three nights ago at the general's table, and 't was enough to make a man weep for very pity that such valor should count for naught."

"Tell it me," I cried, for if there is one thing I love above all others,--yea, even yet, when I must sit useless by,--it is the tale of brave deeds n.o.bly done.

"'T was on the eleventh day of May, seventeen forty-five," he said, "that the English and the Dutch met the French, who were under Marshal Saxe.

Louis the Fifteenth himself was on the field, with the Grand Dauphin by his side and a throng of courtiers about him, for he knew how much depended on the issue of this battle. A redoubt, held by the famous Guards, bristling with cannon, covered the French position. The Dutch, appalled at the task before them, refused to advance, but his Grace of c.u.mberland, who commanded the English, rose equal to the moment. He formed his troops in column, the Coldstreams at its head, and gave the word for the a.s.sault. The batteries thundered, the redoubt was crowned with flame, but the Coldstreams turned neither to the right nor left.

Straight on they marched,--to annihilation, as it seemed,--reforming as they went, over hill and gully, as steadily as on parade. At last they reached their goal, and an instant's silence fell upon the field as they faced the French. The English officers raised their hats to their adversaries, who returned the salute as though they were at Versailles, not looking in the eyes of death.

"'Gentlemen of the French Guard,' cried Lord Charles Hay, 'fire, if you please.'

"'Impossible, monsieur,' cried the Count of Hauteroche; 'the French Guards never fire first. Pray, fire yourselves.'

"The order was given, and the French ranks fell as grain before the sickle. They gave way, the Coldstreams advancing in perfect order, firing volley after volley. The officers, with their rattans, turned the men's muskets to the right or left, as need demanded. Nothing could stop that terrible approach, resistless as a whirlwind, and French and Swiss broke themselves against it, only to be dashed back as spray from a rocky coast. Regiment after regiment was repulsed, and the Coldstreams still advanced. Saxe thought the battle lost, and begged the king and the dauphin to flee while time permitted. At the last desperate moment, he rallied the artillery and all the forces of his army for a final effort.

The artillery was ma.s.sed before the English, and they had none to answer it. The king himself led the charge against their flanks, which the Dutch should have protected. But the Dutch preferred to remain safely in the rear. The Coldstreams stood their ground, reforming their ranks with perfect coolness, until c.u.mberland saw it were madness to remain, and ordered the retreat. And it was more glorious than the advance. With only half their number on their feet, they faced about, without disorder, their ranks steady and unwavering, and moved off sullenly and slowly, as though ready at any moment to turn again and rend the ranks of the victors. It was a deed to match Thermopylae."

I lifted my hat from my head, and my lips were trembling.

"I salute them," I said. "'T was well done. And was General Braddock present on that day?"

"He commanded one battalion of the regiment. It was for his gallantry there that he was promoted to the senior majorship."

"I shall not forget it." And then I added, "Perhaps the story you have told me will give me greater patience with our drill-master."

"I trust so, at least," said Washington, with a smile; "else I fear there will be little peace for you in the army. I was affected by the story, Tom, no less than you have been, but after I had left the hall, with its glamour of lights and gold lace and brilliant uniforms, I wondered if this discipline would count amid the forests of the Ohio as it did on the plains of Europe. I fancy, in the battle that is to come, there will be no question of who shall fire first, and a regiment which keeps its formation will be a fair mark for the enemy. Do you know, Tom, my great hope is that the French will send a scouting party of their Indian allies to ambush us, and that in defeating them, our commander may learn something of the tactics which he must follow to defeat the French."

As for myself, I confess I shared none of these forebodings, and welcomed the chance to turn our talk to a more cheerful subject.

"But about yourself?" I questioned. "There is much I wish to know. Until your note reached me, I had not heard a word from you since you rode away from Mount Vernon with Dinwiddie's messenger."

His face cleared, and he looked at me with a little smile.

"We went direct to Williamsburg," he said, "where I first met the general, and told him what I know about the country which he has to cross. He treated me most civilly, despite some whisperings which went on behind my back, and shortly after sent me a courteous invitation to serve on his staff. Of course I accepted,--you know how it irked me to remain at home,--but I gave him at the same time a statement of my reason for quitting the Virginia service,--that I could not consent to be outranked by every subaltern who held a commission from the king."

I nodded, for the question was not new to me, and had already caused me much heart-burning. It was not until long afterwards that I saw the general's letter among Mrs. Washington's treasures at Mount Vernon, but it seems to me worthy of reproduction here. Thus it ran:--

WILLIAMSBURG, 2 March, 1755.

Sir,--The General having been informed that you expressed some desire to make the campaign, but that you declined it upon some disagreeableness that you thought might arise from the regulations of command, has ordered me to acquaint you that he will be very glad of your company in his family, by which all inconveniences of that kind will be obviated.

I shall think myself very happy to form an acquaintance with a person so universally esteemed, and shall use every opportunity of a.s.suring you how much I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,

ROBERT ORME, Aide-de-Camp.

Had Braddock heeded the advice of the man whom he asked to join his family, the event might have been different. But I must not antic.i.p.ate, and I find my hardest task in writing what is before me is to escape the shadow of the disaster which was to come. At that time, and, indeed, until the storm burst, few of us had penetration to discern the cloud on the horizon,--Colonel Washington, Mr. Franklin, and a few others, perhaps, but certainly not I. It is easy to detect mistakes after the event, and to conduct a campaign on paper, yet few who saw that martial array of troops, with its flying banners and bright uniforms, would have ordered the advance differently.

But to return.

"It was not until three days ago," continued Washington, "that I was able to rejoin the general, and he intrusted me with a message to Colonel Halket, which I delivered this evening. I must start back to Mount Vernon to-morrow and place my affairs in order, and will then join the army at c.u.mberland, whence the start is to be made."

"And what make of man is the general?" I asked.

A cloud settled on Washington's face.

"Why, Tom," he said at last, "I have seen so little of him that I may misjudge him. He is at least brave and honest, two great things in a commander. As for the rest, it is yet too soon to judge. But you have told me nothing about your affairs. How did you leave them all at Riverview?"

"I left them well enough," I answered shortly.

Washington glanced keenly at my downcast face, for indeed the memory of what had occurred at Riverview was not pleasant to me.

"Did you quarrel with your aunt before you came away?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I said, and stopped. How could I say more?

"I feared it might come to that," he said gravely. "Your position there has been a false one from the start. And yet I see no way to amend it."

We walked on in silence for some time, each busy with his own thoughts, and mine at least were not pleasant ones.

"Tom," said Washington suddenly, "what was the quarrel about? Was it about the estate?"

"Oh, no," I answered. "We shall never quarrel about the estate. We have already settled all that. It was something quite different."

I could not tell him what it was; the secret was not my own.

He looked at me again for a moment, and then, stopping suddenly, wheeled me around to face him, and caught my hand.

"I think I can guess," he said warmly, "and I wish you every happiness, Tom."

My lips were trembling so I could not thank him, but I think he knew what was in my heart.

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH I INTRODUCE MYSELF

I doubt not that by this time the reader is beginning to wonder who this fellow is that has claimed his attention, and so, since there is no one else to introduce me, I must needs present myself.

It so happened that when that stern old lion, Oliver Cromwell, crushed the b.u.t.terfly named Charles Stuart at Worcester in the dim dawn of the third day of September, 1651, and utterly routed the army of that unhappy prince, one Thomas Stewart fell into the hands of the Roundheads, as, indeed, did near seven thousand others of the Royalist army. Now this Thomas Stewart had very foolishly left a pretty estate in Kincardine, together with a wife and two st.u.r.dy boys, to march under the banner of the Princeling, as he conceived to be his duty, and after giving and taking many hard knocks, here he was in the enemy's hands, and Charles Stuart a fugitive. They had one and all been declared by Parliament rebels and traitors to the Commonwealth, so the most distinguished of the captives were chosen for examples to the rest, and three of them, the Earl of Derby among the number, were sent forthwith to the block, where they comported themselves as brave men should, and laid down their heads right cheerfully.

The others were sent to prison, since it was manifestly impossible to execute them all,--nor was Cromwell so bloodthirsty, now the rebellion was broken utterly,--and some sixteen hundred of them were sentenced to be transported to the colony of Virginia, which had long been a dumping ground for convicts and felons and political scapegoats. Hither, then, they came, in ships crowded to suffocation, and many dead upon the way and thrown to the sharks for burial, but for some reason only one of the ships stopped here, while the others went on to Barbados to discharge their living freight. I more than suspect that Cromwell's agents soon discovered the Commonwealth had few friends in Virginia, and feared the effect of letting loose here so many of the Royalist soldiers. At any rate, this one ship dropped anchor at Hampton, and its pa.s.sengers, to the number of about three hundred, were sold very cheaply to the neighboring planters. I may as well say here that all of them were well treated by their Cavalier masters, and many of them afterwards became the founders of what are now the most prominent families in the colony.