My Lady of Doubt Part 28

I reviewed the vivid incidents of the day, looking up at the stars, and wondered who among those I knew were yet living, who were dead. I thought of others in those lines of the enemy, whom I had known, speculating on their fate. Then along our rear came a horseman or two, riding slowly. A sentry halted them, and I arose on one elbow to listen.

"Lawrence? Yes, sir, Major Lawrence is lying over there by the scrub oak."

I got to my feet, as the first rider approached.

"This you, Lawrence?" asked a voice I instantly recognized as Hamilton's.

"You fellows all look alike to-night. Where is your horse, Major?"

"I have been on foot all day, sir," I answered saluting.

"Ah, indeed; well, you will have need for a horse to-night. Wainwright,"

turning to the man with him, "is your mount fresh?"

"Appears to be, sir; belonged to a British Dragoon this morning."

"Let Major Lawrence have him. Major, ride with me."

We pa.s.sed back slowly enough toward the rear of the troops, through the field hospitals, and along the edge of a wood, where a battery of artillery was encamped. We rode boot to boot, and Hamilton spoke earnestly.

"The battle is practically won, Lawrence, in spite of Charles Lee," he said soberly. "Of course there will be fighting to-morrow, but we shall have the Red-coats well penned in before daybreak, and have already captured ammunition enough to make us easy on that score. Poor, and the Carolina men, are over yonder, while Woodford is moving his command to the left. At dawn we'll crush Clinton into fragments. Washington wants to send a despatch through to Arnold in Philadelphia, and I recommended you, as you know the road. He remembered your service before, and was kind enough to say you were the very man. You'll go gladly?"

"I should prefer to lead my own men to-morrow, sir."

"Pshaw! I doubt if we have more than a skirmish. Sir Henry will see his predicament fast enough. Then there will be nothing left to do, but guard prisoners."

"Very well, Colonel; I am ready to serve wherever needed."

"Of course you are, man. There should not be much danger connected with this trip, although there will be stragglers in plenty. I'm told that Clinton lost more than three hundred deserters crossing Camden."

Headquarters were in a single-roomed cabin at the edge of a ravine. A squad of cavalrymen were in front, their horses tied to a rail fence, but within Washington was alone, except for a single aide, writing at a rude table in the light of a half-dozen candles. He glanced up, greeting us with a slight inclination of the head.

"A moment, gentlemen."

He wrote slowly, as though framing his sentences with care, occasionally questioning the aide. Once he paused, and glanced across at Hamilton.

"Colonel, do you know a Dragoon named Mortimer?"

"I have no recollection of ever having met the man, sir. I have written him orders, however; he is a scout attached to General Lee's headquarters."

"Yes; I recall the name. He is the one who brought us our first definite information this morning of Clinton's position. I remember now, you were not with me when he rode up--young, slender lad, with the face of a girl.

I could but notice his eyes; they were as soft and blue as violets! Well, an hour ago he came here for a favor; it seems the boy is a son of Colonel Mortimer, of the Queen's Rangers."

"Indeed; Wayne reported the Colonel killed in front of his lines."

"Not killed, but seriously wounded. The son asked permission to take him home to a place called Elmhurst near Laurel Hill."

"I know the plantation, sir," I said, my interest causing me to interrupt. "It is on the Medford road."

"Ah, you have met the lad, possibly, Major," and he turned his face toward me. "The boy interested me greatly."

"No, sir; I endeavored to find him at Lee's headquarters, but failed. I have met his father and sister."

"A lovely girl, no doubt."

"To my mind, yes, sir."

His grave face lighted with a sudden smile.

"I sometimes imagine, Colonel Hamilton," he said quietly, "that this unhappy war might be very pleasantly concluded if we could only turn our young officers over to the ladies of the enemy. Would such a plan meet with your approval, Major?"

"I should prefer it to the present method."

"No doubt, and Mistress Mortimer?--But let that pa.s.s, until we hold council of war upon the subject. Just now we shall have to be content with the more ordinary plans of campaign. I gave the boy permission to remove his father, and they are upon the road ere this. I would that all the British wounded had homes close at hand. You have informed the Major of his mission, I presume, Hamilton, and there is nothing I need add."

"He understands clearly, sir."

"Then I will complete the letter. Be seated, gentlemen."

He wrote for several minutes steadily, once pausing to consult a map, signed the paper, and enclosed it in another sheet, across which he scratched a line of address.

"You will deliver this to General Arnold in person, Major; do not spare horse-flesh. You were in the action to-day?"

"With Maxwell's Brigade."

"That was a hard fight along the stone wall; you came out unhurt?"

"A slight bayonet wound, sir; nothing to incapacitate me from duty."

"Very well; take ten dragoons as escort. Hamilton will write you an order. I have told Arnold our victory is practically complete. Clinton may slip away in the night, for he is a wily old fox, but he has lost his power to injure us in the Jerseys. I hope to bottle him up before morning, so that any retreat will be impossible, but even if he succeeds in getting his army to the transports at Sandy Hook, he has lost prestige, and the victory is ours. Good-bye, Major, and the Lord guard you on your journey."

I felt the firm clasp of his hand, the calm, confident glance of his gray eyes, and bowed low, as I left the room. I could scarcely realize that this quiet, reserved man could be the raging tornado who that same morning had ridden up to Lee, blazing with indignation. His very presence, his evident trust in me, sent me forth upon my long ride renewed in strength of body and purpose, the fatigue of the day forgotten. Ten minutes later, mounted on a rangy sorrel, my dragoon escort trotting behind, I rode south on the Plainsboro road, as swiftly as its terrible condition would warrant.

The evidences of war, the wreckage of battle, were everywhere. Several times we were compelled to leap the stone walls to permit the pa.s.sage of marching troops being hurried to some new position; several batteries pa.s.sed us, rumbling grimly through the night, and a squadron of horse galloped by, the troopers greeting us with shouts of inquiry. The road was deeply rutted by heavy wheels, and littered with all manner of _debris_, broken-down wagons, dead horses, accoutrements thrown away, and occasionally the body of a man, overlooked by the burial squad. Our horses plunged from side to side in fright at the dim objects, snorting wildly, and we were obliged to ride with care, and a tight rein, under the faint guidance of the stars. For two miles the varied, ceaseless noises of a huge camp echoed from either side--the cries of men, the hammering of iron, the neighing of horses. Over there to the east, beyond that gloomy fringe of woods, were the ma.s.ses of the enemy. Between where he rode, skirting their rear, lay our own battle-line, waiting daybreak, and out yonder, protected by the trees, extended the picket posts. From these would occasionally come a red spit of fire, and the dull bark of a musket.

We pa.s.sed all this at last, only to discover the narrow road congested by long trains of commissary and ammunition wagons, every sort of vehicle one could imagine pressed hastily into service--huge Conestogas, great farm wagons, creaking horribly, light carts, even family carriages loaded to their tops, drawn by straining horses, mules, or oxen, their drivers swearing fiercely. We again took to the fields, but, as there seemed no end to the procession, I turned my horse's head eastward, confident we were already beyond the British rear-guard, and struck out across country for another north and south road. We advanced now at a swift trot, the sound of our horses' hoofs on the soft turf almost the only noise, and, within an hour, came again to parallel fences, and a well travelled road.

It was a turnpike, the dust so thick that it rose about us in clouds, and, as we proceeded, we discovered many evidences along the way of a pa.s.sing army. I reined back my horse to speak with the non-commissioned officer in charge of the escort, not entirely certain as to my whereabouts.

"Do you know this country, sergeant?"

"A little, sir; we scouted through here last summer, but I'm not a Jersey man."

"There have been troops marched along here by all the signs."

"Yes, sir," respectfully. "The Red-coats, probably on their way to Monmouth; this is the Mount Holly pike."

As he spoke the map of the region unrolled before my memory. This was the road running a mile, or so, to the west of Elmhurst. It led as straight as any, toward Philadelphia, but whatever stragglers the British army had left behind would be found along here. However, they would probably be scattered fugitives, unwilling to interfere with as strong an armed party as this of mine. If I was alone it would be safer to turn aside. Then, it was a strong temptation to me to pa.s.s thus close to Elmhurst. It would be after daylight when we reached there; I might even get a glimpse across the apple orchard of the great white house. Would Claire be there? It seemed to me quite probable, as Eric was taking the wounded Colonel home for nursing. The girl's face rose before me against the black night, and my heart beat fast. When I came back, I would ride to Elmhurst--surely she would be there then.

The sergeant touched my arm.