Peggy Owen Patriot Part 16

"We are those whose trained battalions, Trained to bleed, not to fly, Make our agonies a triumph- Conquer, while we die."

-"A Battle Song," Edwin Arnold.

"Well, if this be a foot-warmer I wonder what a foot-freezer would be called," exclaimed Peggy in tones of disgust, slipping from her seat in the coach to feel the covered iron at her mother's feet. "I don't believe that the innkeeper at the last tavern where we baited our horses filled it with live coals, as I told him to. He was none too civil."

"Belike 'twas because we paid our reckoning in Continental money,"

remarked Mrs. Owen. "Never mind the iron, Peggy. I shall do very well without it; and if thou art not careful thou wilt drop that box which thee has been so choice of through the journey."

Peggy laughed as she resumed her seat by her mother's side.

"Is thee curious anent that box, mother?" she questioned drawing a small oblong box of ebony wood closer to her.

"I should be," observed the lady with a smile, "had I not heard Friend Deering tell thee that 'twas a secret betwixt thee and him."

"I should think that being a secret would make thee wonder all the more concerning it," remarked the girl. "It would me, mother."

"Is thee trying to awake my inquisitiveness, daughter?"

"I am to tell thee about it should thee ask," said Peggy suggestively.

"But in all these four days thou hast not once evinced the slightest desire to know aught anent the matter. How can thee be so indifferent, mother? I am eager to tell thee."

"So I judged," replied Mrs. Owen laughing outright. "Know then, Peggy, that I am as desirous of hearing as thou art of telling. 'Tis something for General Washington; is 't not?"

"Why, mother, thee knows already," cried Peggy.

"No, no, child; I am only guessing. 'Twould be like Friend Deering to send something to the general. That is all I know of the matter."

"Well, then, 'tis five hundred English guineas," explained the girl, enjoying the look of amazement on her mother's face.

"Peggy, no!" exclaimed the lady. "I thought belike 'twas money, but I knew not that it was so much. How pleased the general will be. Hard money is getting scarcer and scarcer, and the people murmur against the currency of Congress."

"And shall I tell thee all that I am to say to Friend Washington?" asked Peggy with an important air. "Mother, thee did not guess that while thee was gathering supplies I too had business of like nature?"

"No, I did not know," replied Mrs. Owen. "Unravel the matter, I beg, Peggy. 'Twill serve well to pa.s.s the time, and I am curious also concerning the affair."

It was three weeks after the receipt of David Owen's letter, and December was upon them ere mother and daughter had completed their arrangements for the journey. Knowing the great need of supplies at the encampment, Mrs. Owen determined not to go empty handed, and so made a personal canvas among the citizens, who responded to her appeal for the soldiers with their usual liberality. In consequence, when at length everything was in readiness, it was quite a little caravan that left the city headed for Middlebrook, New Jersey. First came the coach with Peggy and her mother inside; then followed two farm wagons loaded with stores of various kinds; behind these came Tom with Star, for Peggy was hoping for rides with her father; the whole traveling under the escort of four of the Pennsylvania Light Horse who had been in Philadelphia on furloughs.

The roads were bad, the traveling rough and slow, the weather cold and damp, but to Peggy, who had never before been away from Philadelphia and its vicinity, the journey was full of interest and excitement. It was now the afternoon of the fourth day since they had started, and both the maiden and the lady were conscious of a growing feeling of excitement as they neared the journey's end, so the matter of the box, about which the matron had in truth been wondering, was a welcome diversion.

"At first," said Peggy pulling the fur robe closer about her and nestling confidentially up to her mother, "he said 'twas so small an amount that he wished me to say naught concerning the donor. But I persuaded him to let me tell who gave it, saying to him that 'twas not the amount that counted so much as the spirit in which 'twas given."

Mrs. Owen nodded approval, and the girl continued:

"And so I am to say that since Jacob Deering is esteemed too old to take up arms for his country 'tis the only thing he can do to show his sympathy with the cause."

"Would that there were more like him," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the lady. "The cause would soon languish were it not for just such support. Is thee tired, Peggy?"

"Not very, mother. Still, I shall be glad when we reach the camp."

At length, just as the sun was sinking behind the Watchung Mountains, the c.u.mbersome coach swung round a bend in the road, and the encampment came into view. They had left Philadelphia by the old York road, crossing the Delaware at Coryell's Ferry, and swinging across Hunterdon County into Somerset, where the army was stationed, so that their first sight of the Continental cantonment glimpsed nearly all of the seven brigades stationed there.

All along the Raritan River, and on the heights of Middlebrook the fields were dotted with tents and parks of artillery. Suddenly, as they drew nearer, the highways between the different posts seemed alive with soldiers going and coming. There was the crunch on the frozen ground of many feet. The country quiet was broken by the rattle of arms, the snort of horses, and the stir and bustle of camp. There was something inspiriting in the spectacle. Fatigue was forgotten, and Peggy straightened up with a little cry of delight.

"Look at the tents, mother," she cried. "Didst ever see so many before?"

"We must be at Middlebrook," exclaimed Mrs. Owen, almost as excited as Peggy. "Just see how the prospect of rest hath reanimated the driver and his horses."

The maiden laughed as the driver sat up, cracked his whip and urged his horses to greater dispatch. The tired animals responded n.o.bly, but their spurt of speed was checked suddenly by a peremptory command from the patrol. The examination over, they were allowed to proceed, but were again halted when they had gone but a short distance.

"What can it be now?" wondered Peggy peering out of the coach. Catching sight of the tall figure that came alongside, she called gaily:

"The countersign, father! The countersign!"

"'Tis welcome! Thrice welcome!" answered David Owen flinging wide the door of the vehicle and taking her into a tender embrace. "Art tired, Peggy?"

"No, father; but I fear that mother is. She hath been cold too."

"But I am so no longer," spoke Mrs. Owen cheerily. "Thee is well, David?"

"Never better, my wife. I have forgot that I was ever ill. But come! let us proceed to our quarters."

"And who are in our mess?" asked Peggy as, after a word to the driver, her father stepped into the coach.

"Thou hast become militaryish already, I see," he said smiling. "I have found accommodations for us at a farmhouse very near Bound Brook. 'Tis just beyond General Greene's brigade, and close enough to the Pennsylvania line not to interfere with active duty. There will be but five in our mess, as thee calls it, Peggy-Friend Decker and wife, thy mother, thyself and I. 'Tis Friend Decker's house. Dutch they are, but patriots staunch and true. See, my wife! We are coming to General Washington's headquarters. 'Tis a much better dwelling than he occupied last year at Valley Forge. To thy right, Peggy. 'Tis the farmhouse in the midst of the orchard."

"Friend Deering hath sent some gold to the general by Peggy," observed Mrs. Owen bending forward that she might the better see the building.

"And there are supplies behind in the wagons for the soldiers. Two loads there are."

"Now that is good news indeed," exclaimed Mr. Owen. "The chief should know of it immediately. We will stop there now. 'Twill ensure the general a better night's rest to receive such tidings. He hath been greatly worried lately over the apathy of the people toward the war."

"Then if 'twill be of any comfort to him to learn of this small aid let us go to him at once, David," said his wife.

The last bit of sunlight disappeared behind the hills as they turned from the road into the meadow in the centre of which stood the large two-story wooden dwelling where General Washington had established his quarters for the winter. But lately finished, it was considered a model of elegance for that section of the country, and was in truth most roomy and comfortable.

As the light faded, from the meadows and the hills sounded the drums, fifes and bugles in the retreat, or sunset drum beat. Scarcely had the music died away than all along the top of the mountain range the watch-fires of the sentinels blazed out suddenly.

"Oh!" gasped Peggy, her eyes glowing, "if I live long 'mid such surroundings methinks I shall feel equal to fighting the whole British army."

"'Tis so with all new recruits, Peggy," laughed her father. "Thee will not be so affected when the novelty wears off. And here is the dwelling.

'Twill not take us long to present our news to the general, and then for quarters."

A few rods to the east of the mansion were about fifty tents erected for the use of the life-guard. Fires flamed before every tent, around which men were gathered, laughing, talking or singing. Peggy looked about with much curiosity, but her father hastened at once to the door of the dwelling, where stood an orderly.

"Will thee tell His Excellency that David Owen is without, and wishes to see him?" he asked. "'Tis important."

The orderly was absent but a moment. "His Excellency will see you, Mr.

Owen," he said. "You are to go right in."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER, YOUR EXCELLENCY"]