Joscelyn Cheshire Part 10

CHAPTER XI.

FROM CAMP TO PRISON.

"My day is closed! the gloom of night is come!

A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate."

--JOANNA BAILLIE.

Many times during the day's march did Richard turn his eyes wistfully toward the blue hills to the south, and wonder beyond which of them Billy was speeding to rejoin his command. The thought had in it such an element of bitterness that finally he thrust it from him lest it wax into selfish envy.

Finally they reached their goal, and the vast body of men and animals halted beside the bay whose waters sparkled under the blue and gold tones of the summer sky. In the offing lay the English fleet, which by the happiest chance for Clinton had arrived inside the Hook in time to convey his exhausted army to New York.

The quick, salt wind whipping Richard in the face, gave him a sense of vigour and reserve strength, which was speedily nipped by a chilling realization of his hopeless captivity. Mechanically he ate and drank when the guard bade him; for the prison bars were now inevitable, and he would lie rusting his heart and manhood out while the fight went by outside. In an agony of despair he cursed the impetuous daring that had led him so far in advance of his column as to deliver him into the hands of the enemy. And he cursed both the moonlight that had flooded the road the first night of their march, and the guard whose lynx eyes seemed ever upon him; and finally he cursed himself more sorely than aught else, because he had not followed Billy at all hazards and let a bullet end the problem forever.

But life is sweet to youth, and hope finds ever a place in the heart that is full of an unsatisfied love; and so by the time he had finished his spare meal he was ready to look at the future with more calmness.

Outside in the free world Joscelyn would wait for him, and prison doors must sometimes yawn. The soldier who brought him his supper stayed for a few minutes to talk. He had a frank, friendly face that Richard liked.

"So we gave your sly general the slip after all, and held to our march as we at first intended."

"Did Clinton originally and intentionally propose to make a night march at almost double-quick over such roads as we have traversed? D--d queer military tactics."

The fellow grinned. "Oh, a little change of programme mattered not, so we lost not a single wagon of our train. See, they are yonder, as safe as a ship in port."

"Mayhap; but you saved your skins whole by stealing away from Monmouth like a thief in the night, and, leaving the foe you pretended to despise, camped on the battle-ground."

"Oh, we begrudge not you fellows a camping ground--we are not that greedy."

"No; you wanted them, in fact, to have all the ground in the vicinity, even if you had to be so unselfish as to march all night to leave it to them."

"Come, your tongue's too sharp," the fellow said irritably.

"Sharper than your general's wits, if he took that march out of anything but necessity. He has saved his baggage train, but, mark you, he has lost his cause. Our victory at Monmouth will hearten up the doubtful and send them flocking to our camp."

The man laughed satirically at the word "victory," and then said:--

"Well, at all events, your part of the flocking is done for good. 'Tis not likely you'll see the outside of a prison for more months than you are years old--if by any chance your general hangs on that long, which is not likely."

Richard shivered at mention of a prison, but shrugged his shoulders with outward calm. "A man must bear the fortunes of war, if he be a true soldier. Prison life is harder than fighting, but some must carry the heavy end of the burden, and 'tis not for me to bemoan if it falls to me. Know you in which of your pest holes we are like to be confined?"

The soldier looked into the clear, steady eyes for a moment before replying: "You're a rum chap to take your medicine without a whine. I like your sort, and I hope, when this cursed war is done, you'll be found alive; but it isn't likely, for methinks you are to go to the old Sugar House in New York. 'Tis as full as an ant-hill now, but they'll shove the poor devils a bit closer together and squeeze you in. You'll have plenty of time, but not much room, to meditate on your evil doings against King George. Still, I hope you'll live through it."

He picked up the empty can out of which the prisoner had been drinking, and moved on. Richard, who had been sitting upright during the conversation, sank back upon the ground and pulled his cap over his eyes. The old Sugar House! Too well he knew of the misery and degradation in store for those who crossed its threshold. No escapes were ever effected, and the hope of exchange, unless one were an officer, was too slim to dwell upon; Washington's captures went for higher game than privates and raw recruits. But two things could open these relentless gates to him--death or the end of the struggle; and the latter seemed far enough away.

And Joscelyn! would she care that he suffered and died by inches? Would she think of him regretfully, tenderly, when all was done? It was hard to love a girl of whose very sympathy one was not sure; and yet he knew he had rather have her mockery than another woman's caresses.

For an hour he lay upon the ground, his heart convulsed with grief, but his body so rigidly quiet that his companions thought he slept. They could not tell that under his cap his eyes were staring wide, seeing, not the cap above, but a girl's face framed in soft meshes of hair and lit by eyes as gray-blue as the sea when the tides are quiescent and the winds are fast asleep. By and by the intense heat of the evening set the wound in his head to throbbing, and rousing up, he begged the corporal of the guard for a little water and a bandage. The man--the same with whom he had talked before--brought these to him after a little delay, and found for him in his own kit a bit of healing salve, which his English mother had given him at parting.

"She said 'twould cure bad blood, and methinks yours is bad enough to put it to the test," he said, laughing, and yet with a certain rough kindliness.

"Well, since it hath not killed you, methinks I am safe," Richard laughed back gratefully, while one of his comrades dressed the wound, which gave promise of speedy healing.

"What is your name?" he asked of the corporal.

"James Colborn, of the King's Artillery."

"Well, 'tis a pity you are in such bad employ, for you have an uncommon good heart and a face that matches it. When General Washington hath licked the boots off you fellows, come down south and pay me a visit. My mother'll be so grateful for every kind word you have spoken to me, that she'll feed you on good cookery until you are as fat as a Michaelmas goose."

"I'll come," the other laughed, "but I'll wear my boots; it will be you fellows who will go barefooted from a licking."

"Don't wager your birthright on that; you'd lose even the mess of pottage."

Under the relief the dressing of his wound afforded, Richard fell asleep, and his dreams must have been comforting, for on his face was a smile of happiness, and the words he murmured made the corporal of the guard laugh to himself as he trod to and fro before the open tent.

"Have you a favourite dog named Joscelyn?" he asked teasingly, when he roused Richard for supper.

"No."

"A horse, then?"

Richard looked at him questioningly, half-inclined to be angry.

"You have been talking in your sleep."

"Joscelyn is not a dog nor a horse; she is my sweetheart."

"Mine's named Margie."

There was a moment of silence during which the two young fellows felt almost akin with friendly sympathy. They longed to shake hands and tell each other their love tales.

"Margie's eyes are black," said Colborn softly.

"Joscelyn has sea-blue eyes."

"I like black ones better."

"I'd love Joscelyn's eyes, were they as vari-coloured as Joseph's coat."

"Well said." The speaker thrust his hand into his shirt and drew out a metal case which contained a picture of a buxom English girl. "It took a whole month's pay to have that made, but I wasn't coming to America without bringing a likeness of her to look at. When I am promoted to a captaincy I shall have it set in gold and brilliants. She is counting the months until I go back to her," he continued with a burst of confidence, while his honest face flamed with a boyish blush. "For every week I am away, she drops a pebble into a china jar I gave her, that I may count the kisses she shall owe me when we meet. Never you doubt but I shall cheat in the count, though I have to carry back a pocketful of American pebbles to help me out!" Then, by way of prelude to that coming happiness, he kissed the picture with eager frankness before returning it to the case, saying there were already twelve pebbles in the jar.

Many times during the few days when the army lay encamped upon the sandy reaches of the Hook did Richard have occasion to be grateful to the young corporal for little acts of kindness, and in return he told him something of his own life, so that a curious friendship was formed between the two; and when the embarkation finally came, Richard was glad to find that the same guard and officers would have the prisoners in charge until the dreaded doors of the jail should close upon them.

As they marched clankily down the streets of New York, he believed that now he knew how condemned men felt as they approached the gallows, only the gallows seemed better than those frowning walls yonder, at whose narrow windows the miserable inmates stood in relays that each might draw a few good breaths during the long and suffocating day. The old Sugar House! He set his teeth hard when at last they stood before its doors, and the first squad of prisoners pa.s.sed out of sight within its gloomy portals. He was telling the sunshine and the clouds good-by before his turn to enter should come, when, to his surprise, the doors swung to, and the squad in which he marched was wheeled down another street. After a few minutes he caught Colborn's eye, and read therein tidings of some new disaster. Whither were they carrying him and his unfortunate companions! No faintest hint of their destination came to him, until, the city being crossed, they halted again, this time beside the water's edge, far to the east. As some delay was evident, the corporal bade the prisoners sit down upon the sh.o.r.e; and while his men formed in the rear to watch, he himself pa.s.sed slowly up and down the water's edge, stopping at last beside Richard, who sat at the end of the line of captives as much to himself as possible, for his heart was heavy with a new forboding.

"In ten minutes," said the corporal, speaking quickly and in an undertone, "I shall have parted with you, perhaps forever. I know you for a brave man and a generous one, and I am sorry for your fate. The plan has been changed. The Sugar House would not hold all of you; so, for lack of other accommodations, this squad of prisoners is ordered to--"

"Where?"

"--to the prison-ships lying across the bay."