The Boys of Old Monmouth Part 24

"Have you been out all night? What have you been doing?"

"Finding out what Clinton is up to. When I was talking with Nathan I knew all the time more about it than he did."

"Did you find out?" said Tom eagerly. "What are the redcoats doing now?"

"Pretty much the same thing they've been doing right along. They're making a change in the direction they're going, unless I'm greatly mistaken. And then, too, they've done something else which doesn't promise very well."

"What's that?"

"They've drawn all their stronger forces into the rear guard and sent on the Hessians with the baggage train in front, for one thing."

"Why do you suppose they have done that?"

"Oh, they've an idea, I fancy, that we're going to try to take their supplies. They'll find out, though, that we're after men more than we are after their baggage wagons. However, that explains the change in the direction of their march, if I'm not greatly mistaken. They've put the Hessians in front and the best men behind."

"I wish they had left the Dutch butchers there!" said Tom impulsively.

"I hate the Hessians. I hate the very name and sight of them! Think of it! A lot of men just hired to come over here and shoot and kill and steal! I wish they had been left where they were, that is, if General Washington is ready for them!"

"I think you'll find him ready when the time comes," remarked the lieutenant quietly. "But about the Hessians. I don't like them any better than you do, but somehow I can't bring myself to feel about it as some of the men do. I can't see that they're to be blamed for being brought over here, or even being engaged in such work as they're doing; and I know more about that than you do, too. The ones who are the worst are not those who have come over here, but those who have sent them.

Just think of a petty little prince, or king, being able to hire out a lot of his own subjects to pay off his own debts with! These men feel just the same as you or I would, I have thought. They have wives and mothers and children, and yet they have to leave them all and come over here and be marks for our bullets, whether they want to be or not. They just haven't anything to say about it. They're told to come and come they must, though there won't be so many to go back as came over, I'm thinking. At least, I'm going to do all I can to thin out their ranks, though I feel sorry for the poor fellows all of the time."

This was a new way of looking at the hated "Dutch butchers," at least it was entirely new to Tom Coward. He had heard only the expressions of rage among the colonists which their coming had aroused, and their strange words and brutal acts had never received much mercy in the judgment which he had heard pa.s.sed upon them by his acquaintances.

The anger of the patriots, perhaps, was but natural; but the employment of the Hessians has not furnished the only instance in history where the first and most apparent view has not always been the most correct one.

Indeed, it frequently happens that the troubles between men, to say nothing of boys, arises from a misunderstanding; and it is the part of wisdom, as well as of justice, to look below the surface and try to discover the true conditions.

"Then the British are to be blamed, if what you say is true," said Tom, after a brief silence. "They are the ones at the bottom of it all."

"Yes, the British are the ones who are most to be blamed. But even there, Tom, if I'm correctly informed, it's the leaders and not the people. The way I understand it is that the rank and file of the common people in England are opposed to this war, and would put a stop to it in a moment if they could."

"If they could?" repeated Tom. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Just what I say. The very best people in England have, from the very beginning of this war, been opposed to the taxes, the use of the Indians, and the hiring of these Hessians. It's the king and Lord North and a few others of the pig-headed fellows who are doing it all. Tom, my father and my mother both came from England. As far back as I can remember they have told me stories of our old home and of the friends we have over there. Why, do you know it's been the dream of my life to go over there some day, and meet some of my cousins and see the place where my father and mother were born."

"I didn't know you were a tory," said Tom slowly.

"Tory? I haven't a drop of tory blood in my veins, and hope I never shall have."

"But--but--you talk like one."

"Is it tory talk for me to say I don't blame the Hessians for coming over here, but those who hired them and sent them? Is it tory talk for me to say I love to think of the place where my father and mother were born, and that I should be glad to look into the faces of those who bear the same name I do, and who have some of the same kind of blood in their veins? Is it tory talk for me to say that I'm proud of what Old England has done, or rather of many things she has done, from the days of William the Conqueror until now? And that belongs to me as much as it does to them, for my own grandfather was one of the bravest men in the whole British army! This war is like one between brothers, and it's all the more wicked on that account. And it's worse yet, because the most of the Englishmen are not in favor of it at all."

"I don't just see why you don't fight with the redcoats, instead of against them, then."

"Because this is my home and this is my country, and because the king and his court aren't fit to govern cannibals, to say nothing of men. No, sir, it's just because I do believe in all I've said that I'm fighting for my country and shall till the war is ended--which I hope will be soon!"

"And would you shoot a redcoat or a Dutch butcher?"

"Every time! It was a sad thing that the war had to come, but as come it did, it would be sadder still not to do everything in our power now to carry it through. I'm sorry for the Hessians, but I'd shoot every one of them if I could do it. I'm sorry for the redcoats, and I know they are not to be blamed, or at least some of them are not, but I'd mow them down now, every one of them, as I'd cut the gra.s.s in haying-time. Fight?

Why, my lad, I'm in this war from the crown of my head to the sole of my foot! And I wouldn't stop till the redcoats cry 'enough,' or we drive them right into the Atlantic ocean, the way Parson Tennent used to tell about the pigs in Gadara being chased by the devils right into the sea.

Not that I think the ones who are doing the chasing are in any way connected with the swine drivers in the parson's story," he added, laughing lightly as he spoke. "But we must be going. Our horses are rested now, and we'll be running into a thunder-storm before we see the Continentals, if we don't look out."

The ride was quickly resumed, but Tom Coward was silent and sadly puzzled to account for his friend's words. Apparently, he was enthusiastic in his devotion to the cause of the patriots, but he had never heard any one talk in that manner before. His friends and neighbors were all hard and bitter, and the bitterness seemed to increase as the war continued. But here was his friend, fighting with all the devotion of his heart, and yet not blaming the very men he was trying hard to conquer for the part they were taking in the war.

It seemed to him all strange, and while he was deeply impressed by many of the words of the enthusiastic young lieutenant, his own feelings were of a very decidedly different character. For a half hour they rode forward as swiftly as their steeds could carry them, but the heavy clouds had meanwhile been climbing higher in the heavens, and the mutterings of the thunder had now become deeper and heavier.

"We'll put into that barn ahead there, and wait for the storm to pa.s.s,"

said the lieutenant, pointing as he spoke to a rude barn by the roadside.

As the rain was now falling, Tom was glad to follow the advice, and in a few moments they approached the open door. They had not dismounted when a strangely clad being stepped forth from the barn and shouted:--

"Halt, will yez? I'll be after havin' yez give an account of yerselves, that I will."

Tom glanced up in fear and surprise, and the sight before him did not tend to allay his alarm. The soldier presented a gun, but was its bearer a man or woman? A long petticoat certainly looked like the garb of a woman, but the soldier also was clad in an artilleryman's coat, while a c.o.c.ked hat and feathers crowned the head of the strange being.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a voice that was gruff and deep, the strangely clad soldier bore but slight resemblance to a woman, though the dress certainly seemed to proclaim the s.e.x of the speaker.

The rain was now falling in torrents and Tom was drenched in a moment; but in the brief silence which followed the demand of the soldier, he could not determine what course his companion would decide to follow.

CHAPTER XXII

A SOLDIER WOMAN

"WHY, Molly, you aren't going to keep us out here in the rain, are you?"

Tom looked up in surprise as he heard the young lieutenant's words; and while his fears were somewhat relieved by the a.s.surance that his companion evidently had recognized the peculiar being before them, his confusion was not diminished by the reply which the strangely clad woman quickly made.

"Sure, and it's me bye! It's me beautiful bye! Come in, me darlint! What for should ye be standin' out there in the storm?"

The two dripping young soldiers speedily accepted the invitation, and entered the barn, leading their horses with them. To their surprise they now discovered that several men were also in the building, and that other horses were stalled in the barn.

The appearance of Tom's horse was greeted by a shout of delight, and the person whom Lieutenant Gordon had addressed as "Molly" approached, and, after critically examining the poor beast for a moment, said:--

"And where in the world did ye be after findin' that? It's a pity, it is indade, to be after compellin' such poor bastes as that to be fightin'

the Dootch butchers! Sure, and it's the surgeon the poor thing is after needin'."

Molly's hair was of a bright red color, her face was covered with freckles, which were like great blotches upon the skin, and her eyes were so faded as to be almost colorless; but her expression was so evidently one of good nature that Tom was compelled to join in the laugh which her words raised among the half dozen men who quickly a.s.sembled to pa.s.s judgment upon the steed which had been led into the barn.

"Oh, that's something we bought back here to carry my friend as far as the army."

"It's lucky, it is, that ye haven't very far to go, thin," laughed Molly.

"Perhaps you're right, Molly," replied the lieutenant. "How far back is the army now?"