For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution by Brady (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

that sea a moment. We could n't put back, could do no good if we had, and so we came on to Philadelphia, and that's all."

"No, general," cried Seymour; "it's not all. We will tell the general the whole story, Talbot. You remember, sir, the raid on the Wilton place and the capture of the colonel and his daughter?" The general nodded. "Well, sir, before the Ranger sailed, I received a note from Miss Wilton saying they were to be sent to England in the Radnor."

"You received the note? I thought she was Mr. Talbot's betrothed, Mr.
Seymour!"

"I thought so too, general; but it seems that we are both wrong.
Lieutenant Seymour captured her during his visit there with Colonel
Wilton," said Talbot, with a faint smile.

"I am very sorry for you, Talbot, and you are a fortunate man, Mr. Seymour. But go on; we are all friends here. Did you say they were to go on the Radnor?"

"Yes, sir. The pursuing frigate was recognized by one of my men who had been pressed and flogged while on her, as the Radnor, the ship on which they were. I heard the man say so just as we neared the reef. To go through the pass was to lead the English ship to destruction and cause the death of those we—of the colonel, sir," continued Seymour, in some confusion. "To refrain from attempting the pass was to lose the ship and all it meant for our cause. I could not decide. I say frankly I could not condemn those I—our friends to death, and I could not lose the ship either. This old man knew it all. He has known me from a child. He spoke out boldly, and laid my duty before me, and pleaded with me—"

"He did not need it, your honor. No, sir; he would have done it anyway," interrupted Bentley.

The general took the hand of the embarrassed old boatswain and shook it warmly; then, fixing his glowing eyes upon the two young men, said,—

"Continue, Mr. Seymour."

"I know not what I might have done, but the old seaman's appeal to my honor decided me. I went aft with horror in my heart, but resolved to do my duty. On my way there I took out of my pocket the little note received from Miss Wilton; a gust of wind blew it to the hand of Mr. Talbot. It was only a line. As he picked it up, he read it involuntarily. We had some words. I drew on him, sir. It was my fault."

"No, no, general, the fault was mine!" interrupted Talbot. "I said it was my letter, refused to give it up, insulted him. He would have arrested me. Bentley and Philip interfered. I taunted him, advanced to strike him. He had to draw or be dishonored."

"Nay, general, but the fault was mine. I was the captain of the ship; the safety of the ship depended on me."

"Go on, go on, Mr. Seymour," said the general; "this dispute does honor to you both."

"The rest happened as has been told you. One of the splinters struck Mr. Talbot's sword and swept it into the sea; the note went with it, and then the frigate was wrecked, and Colonel Wilton and his daughter, with all the rest, lost."

It was very still in the room.

"My poor friend, my poor friend," murmured the general, "and that charming girl. Without a moment's warning! Young gentlemen," taking each of the young men by the hand, "I honor you. You have deserved well of our country,—for the frankness with which one of you admits his fault, for it was a fault, and takes the blame upon himself, and for the heroic resolution by which the other sacrifices his love for his duty. Laurens, make out a captain's commission for Mr. Talbot. Hamilton, I wish you would write out a general order declaring the capture of the transport and her lading, and the sinking of the Juno and the wreck of the English frigate; it will hearten the men for our enterprise to-night. As for you, Mr. Seymour, I shall use what little influence I may be able to exert to get you a ship at once; meantime, as we contemplate attacking the enemy at last, I shall be glad to offer you a position as volunteer on my staff for a few days, if your duties will permit. And to you, Philip, let me be a father indeed—my poor boy! As for you, boatswain, what can I do for you?"

"Nothing, your honor, nothing, sir. You have shaken me by the hand, and that's enough." The old man hesitated, and then, seeing only kindness in the general's face, for the old sailor attracted and pleased him, he went on softly: "Ay, love's a mighty thing, your honor; we knows it, we old men. And love of woman's strong, they say, but these boys have shown us that something else is stronger."

"And what is that, pray, my friend?"

"Love of country, sir," said Bentley, in the silence.

CHAPTER XXII

Washington—a Man with Human Passions

Half an hour later, after the four travellers had taken some refreshment, hasty steps were heard outside the door, followed by the sentry's hail.

"Ah!" said the general, looking up eagerly from the book he had been reading, "perhaps that is Mr. Martin with news from the enemy." Then laying aside his book, he rose to his feet to meet the new-comer, who proved to be the man he had expected. The young man stood at attention and saluted, while the general addressed him sharply,—

"Well, sir, what have you learned?"

The young officer appeared extremely embarrassed. "I—well, the fact is, sir, nothing at all," he stammered.

"Nothing!" said the general, loudly, with rising heat, "nothing, sir!
Did you not cross the river as I directed you?"

"No, sir. That is, I tried to, but there was so much floating ice, and it was so difficult to manage a boat that I thought it would be hardly worth while to attempt it, sir. In fact, the crossing is impracticable for troops," he went on more confidently; but his face changed as he looked up at his infuriated superior. The general was a picture of wrath; the lines in his forehead standing out plainly, his mouth shut more tightly and grimly than ever. It was evident that he was furiously angry, and his face had in it something terrible from his rage. The young officer stood before him now, white and frightened to death.

"I saw him this way at Kip's Landing," whispered Hamilton to Seymour. "Look! he has lost control of himself completely, there will be an explosion sure."

The general struggled for a moment, and then broke away.

"Impracticable, sir! impracticable!" he roared out in a voice of thunder. "How dare you say what this army can or can not do! And what do you mean by not crossing the river and ascertaining the facts I desire to know!" The next moment he stepped forward and, seizing a heavy leaden inkstand from the table near him, threw it with all his force full at the man, crying fiercely,—

"Damnation, sir! Be off and send me a man."

The officer dodged the missile, which struck the wall with a crash, saluted, and ran out of the door as if his life depended on it; feeling in his heart that he would face any danger rather than brave another storm of wrath like that he had just sustained. The general continued to pace up and down the room restlessly for a few moments, until he recovered his composure.

"I depended upon that information, and I must have it," he soliloquized. "If that man does not bring it back to us before we cross the river, I 'll have him cashiered. Shall I send another man? No, I 'll give him another chance."

Seymour picked up the book the general had been reading. It was the
Bible, and open at the twenty-second chapter of the Book of Joshua.
His eye fell full upon the twenty-second verse, which was marked. "The
Lord God of gods, the Lord God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall
know; if; it be in rebellion, or if in transgression against the
Lord, (save us not this day.)"

Just then the little daughter of Keith, the owner of the farmhouse at which they were staying, entered the room. As the little miss came up fearlessly to the general, he stopped and smiled down at her.

"Father and mother wish to know if you will want supper to-night, sir?"

"No, my little maid," he replied; "not here, at any rate. And which do you like the better now, the Redcoats or the Continentals?"

"The Redcoats, sir, they have such pretty clothes," said the nascent woman.

"Ah, my dear," he replied blithely, catching her up in his arms and kissing her the while, "they look better, but they don't fight. The ragged fellows are the boys for fighting."

"Singular man!" mused Seymour, contrasting the outbreak of wrath at the recalcitrant officer, the open Bible he had been reading, and the last merry, tender greeting to the child. But his musings were interrupted by the general himself, speaking.

"General Greene, you would better ride over to the landing and place the different brigades; take Hamilton with you, and perhaps General Knox will go also to look out for the artillery. The brigades were to start at three o'clock for McConkey's Ford, and the nearest of them should be there now. We shall move in two divisions after we leave Birmingham on the other side. I wish you to command the first one, which will comprise the brigades of Sterling, Mercer, and De Fermoy, with Hand's riflemen and Hausegger's Germans and Forest's battery. I shall accompany your column. General Sullivan will take the second division, with Sargeant's and St. Clair's brigades, and Glover's Marblehead men, and Stark's New Hampshire riflemen. The two columns will divide at Birmingham. You will take the east, or inland road, and Sullivan that by the river. Have you that order I spoke of for the troops, Mr. Hamilton? If so, you will give a copy of it to General Greene, who will publish it to the troops as soon as they arrive. Captain Morris, I think you would better go also. You will muster your troop; the men will have returned from carrying my orders to the different brigades, and can be assembled once more. I desire you to attend my person to-night as our only cavalry. Talbot, you would better go with General Greene; you also, marquis, so that you can be with your friend Captain Hamilton. The rest of us will follow you shortly."

The officers designated bowed, and in a few moments were on the road. The officers left at the headquarters were speedily busy with their necessary duties, and Seymour and his two companions, one of whom, the boatswain, was most unfamiliar with and uncomfortable upon a horse, were able to get a couple of hours of needed rest before starting out upon what they felt would be an arduous journey. About half after six o'clock the signal to mount was given, and the whole party, led by the general himself, and followed by the ragged guard, was soon upon the road.

It was intensely cold, and the night bade fair to be the severest of the winter. The sky was cloudless, however, and there was a bright moon.

CHAPTER XXIII

Lieutenant Martin's Lesson

As they rode along slowly, the general explained his plans. General Howe had pursued him relentlessly through the Jerseys, until he had crossed into Pennsylvania, only escaping further pursuit and certain defeat because he had had the forethought to seize every boat upon the Delaware and its tributaries for miles in every direction, and bring them with his army to the west bank of the river, so that Howe was unable to cross. The English general had threatened, however, to wait until the river was frozen and then cross on the ice, and after brushing aside the miserable remains of Washington's army, march on to Philadelphia and establish himself in the rebel capital.