In Hostile Red Part 24

The loungers laughed again; but I did not mind it now, as I was eager to hear what Waters had to say.

"Let us have this mighty secret," I said.

"I fear your honors will not like it," replied Waters.

"Never mind about that," I said, impatiently. "I do not believe that it amounts to anything at all."

"It is only that the King of France has joined the Americans and declared war on the English," said Waters.

For a moment I could scarce restrain a shout of joy. There had been talk for some time about a French alliance, but we had been disappointed so often that we had given up hope of it. Now the news had come with the suddenness of a thunder-clap. I believe that Marcel felt as I did, but it was of high importance that we should keep our countenances.

"Whence did you get such a report as that?" I asked, affecting to treat it with contempt and unbelief.

"From the people of the city," replied Waters.

"Where did they get it?" asked Marcel.

"I think it was brought in from the American army," replied the man, "and if your honor will pardon me for saying it, there is no doubt whatever about its truth."

"King George will now have two enemies to fight instead of one, and he has not whipped the first," said one of the loungers.

"Fear not that his armies will not be equal to the emergency," said I, thinking it needful to preserve my character as a British officer.

"Then they will have to do something more than feast and dance in this city," said the bold fellow. The others murmured their approval and applause, and Marcel and I, bidding them to beware how they talked treason, strolled on.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such bad news," said Waters, humbly.

"King Louis and the Americans are responsible for the news, not you,"

said Marcel. "Still, we thank you for narrating it to us."

His tone was that of curt dismissal, and Waters, accepting it, left us.

Marcel and I looked at each other, and Marcel said:--

"If we were able, half-armed, untrained, and unaided, to take one British army at Saratoga, what ought we not to do now with King Louis's regulars to help us, and King Louis's a.r.s.enals to arm us?"

"The alliance suggests many things," I said, "and one in particular to you and me."

"What is that?" asked Marcel.

"That we leave Philadelphia at once, or at least as soon as we can find an opportunity," I replied, "and rejoin our army. This should portend great events, perhaps a decisive campaign, and if that be true we ought to share it with our comrades."

"Without denying the truth of what you say," replied Marcel, "we nevertheless cannot leave the city to-day, so we might as well enjoy the leisure the G.o.ds have allotted to us. The counting-house of our rich patriot, old John Desmond, is on this street. Perhaps he has not heard the news, and if we were the first to tell it to him he might forgive our apparent British character, though I fear it would be but small recommendation to his handsome Tory daughter."

We entered the counting-house, where Mr. Desmond still contrived to earn fair profits despite the British occupation. Our British uniforms procured for us a certain amount of respect and deference from the clerks and attendants, but the stern old man, who would not bend to Sir William Howe himself, only glowered at us when we came into his presence.

"I fear I can give you but little time to-day, gentlemen," he said, with asperity, "though I acknowledge the honor of your visit."

"We are not in search of a loan," said Marcel, lightly, "but came merely to ask you if you had any further particulars of the great news which must be so pleasing to you, though I admit that it is less welcome to us."

"The news? the great news? I have no news, either great or small," said Mr. Desmond, not departing from his curt and stiff manner.

"Haven't you heard it?" said Marcel, with affected surprise. "All the people in the city are talking about it, and we poor Britons expect to begin hard service again immediately."

"Your meaning is still strange to me," said Mr. Desmond.

"It's the French alliance that I mean," said Marcel. "We have received positive news this morning that King Louis of France and Mr. Washington of America, in virtue of a formal treaty to that effect, propose to chastise our master, poor King George."

I had watched Mr. Desmond's face closely, that I might see how he took the news. But not a feature changed. Perhaps he was sorry that he had yielded to his feelings at the recent banquet, and was now undergoing penance. But, whatever the cause, he asked merely, in a quiet voice,--

"Then you know that the King of France has espoused the American cause and will help General Washington with his armies and fleets?"

"Undoubtedly," replied Marcel.

"Then this will be interesting news for my daughter, though she will not like it," he said. He opened the door of an inner room, called, and Miss Desmond came forth.

She looked inquiringly at us, and then spoke with much courtesy. We returned the compliments of the day in a manner that we thought befitting highborn Britons and conquerors in the presence of sympathetic beauty. I took pride to myself too, because my affair with Belfort had ended as she wished. It seemed to give me a claim upon her. But I observed with some chagrin that neither our manners nor our appearance seemed to make much impression upon Miss Desmond.

"Daughter," said Mr. Desmond, in the same expressionless tone that he had used throughout the interview, "these young gentlemen have been kind enough to bring us the news that France and the colonies have signed a formal treaty of alliance for offensive and defensive purposes.

The information reached Philadelphia but this morning. I thought it would interest you."

I watched her face closely, as I had watched that of her father, expecting to see joy on the father's, sorrow on the daughter's. But they could not have been freer from the appearance of emotion if they had planned it all before.

"This will complicate the struggle, I should think," she said, dryly, "and it will increase your chances, Captain Montague and Lieutenant Melville, to win the epaulets of a colonel."

"We had expected," I said, "that Miss Desmond, a sincere friend of our cause, would express sorrow at this coalition which is like to prove so dangerous to us."

"My respect to my father, who does not believe as I do, forbids it," she said. "But I think the king's troops and his officers, all of them, will be equal to every emergency."

We bowed to the compliment, and, there being no further excuse for lingering, departed, patriot father and Tory daughter alike thanking us for our consideration in bringing them the news.

"The lady is very beautiful," said Marcel, when we had left the counting-house, "but she sits in the shadow of the North Pole."

"Self-restraint," I said, "is a good quality in woman as well as in man."

"I see," said Marcel. "It is not very hard to forgive treason when the traitor is a woman and beautiful."

"I do not know what you mean," I said, with frigidity.

"It does not matter," he replied. "I know."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN--_The Silent Sentinel_

I doubted not that the news of the French alliance would incite Sir William Howe to activity, for any fool could see that, with his splendid army, splendidly equipped, he had allowed his chances to go to ruin.

There was increasing talk, and of a very definite nature too, about his removal from the chief command. So far as the subalterns knew, his successor might have been appointed already, and this would be an additional inducement to Sir William to attempt some sudden blow which would shed glory over the close of his career in America, and leave about him the odor of success and not of failure.