Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls

by Lucy Foster Madison

  CHAPTER XI--PEGGY PLEADS FOR DRAYTON

  "'Me from fair Freedom's sacred cause Let nothing e'er divide; Grandeur, nor gold, nor vain applause, Nor friendship false, misguide.'"

  --The American Patriot's Prayer. (Ascribed to Thomas Paine.)

  It was Mrs. Owen who found a way out of the situation.

  "Nay, lad," she said in her gentle way after Peggy had poured forth herfear that the boy might be shot, and Drayton had expressed himself aseager to go back at once. "Be not too hasty. Youth is ever impulsive,and prone to act on the resolve of the moment. Thee would prefer anotherchance, would thee not?"

  "Yes," answered the lad quickly. "If I could have it, I would showmyself worthy of it. But if I cannot, Madam Owen, I am still resolved togo back, and face death like a man."

  "Thee is right, John," she answered. "But if we could reach the properauthorities something might be done to give thee an opportunity toredeem thyself. Stay! I have it! Was not Mr. Arnold thy general?"

  "Yes," he said. "But oh, madam! is it necessary that he should know?Think, think what it would be should he learn that John Drayton, one ofhis soldiers, deserted. I could not bear to see him."

  "But would he not take more interest in thee than any other officermight? He alone would know all that thou didst endure in that marchthrough the Maine wilderness. He would have a more completeunderstanding of thy privations, and how thou hast borne thyself underthem. It is to him we must look to get thee thy chance."

  Drayton buried his face in his hands for a time, and sat in thought.Presently he looked up.

  "You speak truly, madam," he said. "'Tis the only way. He is the one towhom we must go. I am ashamed to face him, but I will. I'll ask foranother chance, but oh! this is a thing that he cannot understand: hewho would give his life rather than fail in his duty. 'Tis a part of mypunishment. I'd rather die than face him, but I will."

  "Once more, lad, let us not be too hasty," said the lady again, laying adetaining hand upon his arm as he rose to his feet. "We must approachhim with some little diplomacy. So much have I learned in this long war.He hath discovered a liking for Peggy here, and hath bestowed markednotice upon her upon several occasions. Therefore, while I like not toseem to take advantage of such favor, in this instance it might be wellto send her as an advocate to him for thee. What does thee say, Peggy?"

  "That 'tis the very thing," cried Peggy, starting up. "Oh, I will gladlygo to him. And I will plead, and plead, John, until he cannot help butgive thee another chance."

  "It seems like shirking," remonstrated Drayton, his restored manlinesseager to begin an expiation.

  "Thee has been advertised as a deserter, lad, and should thee attempt togo to him thee might be apprehended. Also, if the general were to seethee without first preparing him, he might not listen to thyexplanation, and turn thee over to the recruiting officer. It will bethe part of wisdom for Peggy to see him first."

  And so it was arranged. September had given place to the crisp bracingair of October, and on the uplands the trees were beginning to wear theglory of scarlet and yellow and opal green. Sunshine and shadow fleckedthe streets of the city, and as Peggy wended her way toward theheadquarters of General Arnold, she was conscious of a feeling ofmelancholy.

  "Is it because of the dying year, I wonder?" she asked herself as a deadleaf fell at her feet. "I know not why it is, but my spirits are verylow. Is it because I fear the general will not give the lad his chance?Come, Peggy!" Addressing herself sternly, a way she had. "Put thy heartin attune with the weather, lest thee infects the general with thymegrims."

  So chiding herself she quickened her steps and assumed an aggressivelycheerful manner. Just as she turned from Fifth Street into High sheheard a great clamor. She stopped in alarm as a rabble of men and boyssuddenly swept around a corner and flooded the street toward her. Thegirl stood for but a moment, and then ran back into Fifth Street, whereshe stopped so frightened that she did not notice a coach drawn by fourhorses driving rapidly down the street.

  "Careful, my little maid! careful!" called a voice, and Peggy looked upto find General Arnold himself leaning out of the coach regarding heranxiously. "Why, 'tis Miss Peggy Owen," he exclaimed. "Know you not thatyou but escaped being run down by my horses?"

  "I--I--'tis plain to be seen," stammered the maiden trembling.

  "Sam, assist the young lady into the coach," he commanded the coachman.Then, as Peggy was seated by his side: "I cry you pardon, Miss Peggy,for not getting out myself. I am not so nimble as I was. What is it?What hath frightened you?"

  "Does thee not hear the noise?" cried Peggy.

  Before he could reply the mob swept by. In the midst of it was a cart inwhich lay a rude pine coffin which the crowd was showering with stones.

  "'Tis the body of James Molesworth, the spy," he told her. "When he wasexecuted 'twas first interred in the Potter's Field; then when theBritish held possession of the city 'twas exhumed and buried withhonors. Since the Whigs have the town again 'tis thought fitting torestore it to its old resting place in the Potter's Field."

  "'Tis a shame not to let the poor man be," she exclaimed, every drop ofblood leaving her face. "Why do they not let him rest? He paid the debtof his guilt. It were sin to maltreat his bones."

  "'Tis best not to give utterance to those sentiments, Miss Peggy," hecautioned. "They do honor to your heart, but the public temper is suchthat no mercy is shown toward those miscreants who serve as spies."

  "But it hath been so long since he was executed," she said withquivering lips. "And is it not strange? When I came into the city toseek my father 'twas the very day that they had exhumed his body andwere burying it with honors. Oh, doth it portend some dire disaster tous?"

  "Come, come, Miss Peggy," he said soothingly. "Calm yourself. I knew notthat Quakers were superstitious, and had regard for omens. Why, I verilybelieve that you would look for a stranger should the points of thescissors stick into the floor if they fell accidentally."

  "I would," she confessed. "I fancy all of us girls do. But this--this isdifferent."

  "Not a whit," he declared. "'Tis a mere coincidence that you shouldhappen to be present on both occasions." And then seeing that her colorhad not returned even though the last of the mob had gone by, he gave aword to the coachman. "I am going to take you for a short drive," heannounced, "and to your destination."

  "Why! I was coming to see thee," cried Peggy with a sudden remembranceof her mission. "I wish to chat with thee anent something and--someone."

  "Robert Dale?" he questioned with a laugh. "He is a fine fellow, andwell worthy of a chat."

  "Oh, no! Not about Robert, though he is indeed well worthy of it, asthee says. 'Tis about one John Drayton."

  "What? Another?" He laughed again, and settled himself back on thecushions with an amused air. Then as he met the innocent surprise of herclear eyes he became serious. "And what about him, Miss Peggy?"

  "Does thee not remember him, Friend Arnold?" she queried in surprise."He was with thee on thy march through the wilderness to Quebec."

  "Is that the Drayton you mean?" he asked amazed in turn. "I do indeedremember him. What of him? He is well, I hope. A lad of parts, I recall.And brave. Very brave!"

  "He hath not been well, but is so now," she said.

  "You have something to ask of me," he said keenly. "Speak out, MissPeggy. I knew not that he was a friend of yours."

  "He hath not been until of late," she answered troubled as to how sheshould broach the subject. "Sir," she said presently, plunging boldlyinto the matter, "suppose that after serving three long years a soldiershould weaken? Suppose that such an one grew faint hearted at theprospect of another winter such as the one just passed at Valley Forge;would thee find it in thy heart to blame him, if, for a time, heshould"--she paused searching for a word that would express her meaningwithout using the dreadful one, desert--"he should, well--retire withou
tleave until he could recover his strength? Would thee blame him?"

  "Do you mean that Drayton hath deserted?" he asked sternly.

  "He did; but he repents," she told him quickly. "Oh, judge him not untilI tell anent it. He wants to go back. His courage failed only because ofsickness. Now he is ready and willing, nay, even eager to go back eventhough he meets death by so doing. As he says himself 'twas naught butthe cold, and hunger, and scanty clothing that drove him to it." Peggy'seyes grew eloquent with feeling as she thought of the forlorn conditionof the lad when she first saw him.

  "And if he goes back, will he not have hunger, and cold, and scantyclothing to endure again?" he asked harshly.

  "Yes; but now he hath rested and grown strong," she answered. "He willhave the strength to endure for perchance another three years should thewar last so long. He wants to go back. He wants a chance to redeemhimself."

  "And had he not the courage to come to me himself without asking you tointercede for him?" he demanded. "He was in my command, and he knows meas only the soldiers do know me. Since when hath Benedict Arnold ceasedto give ear to the distress of one of his soldiers? I like it not thathe did not appeal to me of himself."

  "He wished to," interposed the girl eagerly. "Indeed, 'twas mother's andmy thought for me to come to you. We thought, we thought"--Peggyfaltered, but went on bravely--"we thought that thee should be approacheddiplomatically. We wished the lad to have every chance to redeemhimself, and we feared that if thee saw him without preparation theemight be inclined to give him to the recruiting officer. He is sosincere, he wishes so truly to have another chance that mother and Icould not bear that he should not have it. I have made a poor advocate,I fear," she added with a wistful little smile, "though he did say thathe would rather die than face thee."

  "Unravel the matter from the beginning," he commanded, with a slightsmile at her confession of diplomacy.

  And Peggy did so, beginning with the time that the lad mended the saddleon the road, the loss of her pony, and everything leading to Drayton'sstay with them, even to the making of the uniform of blue and buff andthe reading of "The Crisis."

  "Upon my life," he cried laughing heartily at this. "I shall adviseGeneral Washington to appoint you to take charge of our faintheartedones. So he did not relish being called a summer soldier, eh? MissPeggy, I believe that I should like to see the lad, and have a talk withhim."

  "Thee will not be harsh with him, will thee?" she pleaded. "He hathindeed been in a woeful plight, and he could not bear it from thee. Andhe doth consider the country ungrateful toward him."

  "He is right," commented Arnold, a frown contracting his brow."Ungrateful indeed! Not only he but others have suffered from herinjustice. Have no fear, Miss Peggy, but take me to him at once."

  Nevertheless Peggy felt some uneasiness as the coach turned in thedirection of her home.