Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls

by Lucy Foster Madison

  CHAPTER XXV--THE ALERT THAT FAILED

  "What gain we by our toils if he escape Whom we came hither solely to subdue?"

  --"Count Julian," Landor.

  "Be careful," warned Drayton, letting the stick fall with a crash. "Canyou come to Rachel Fenton's house in little Queen Street this morning?We can talk there."

  "Yes, yes," cried Peggy eagerly. "I know where it is. I will go therefrom market. John, my mother----"

  "Is well," he answered quickly. "Don't ask anything more now, but go in.'Tis cold out here."

  "But thee?" she questioned loth to leave him.

  "Oh, I'm used to it," he responded airily. "Just send along thatstableman though, Peggy. These sticks are heavy. And say! Is't permittedto feed drivers of carts? There are not many rations just now inMorristown, and I'd really like to eat once more."

  "Thee shall have all thee wants," she assured him. "But oh, John! ifthey should find out who thee is! Thou art mad to venture into thecity."

  "If they will wait until I've eaten they may do their worst," he repliedwith a touch of his old jauntiness. "No; I don't mean that, for I'vecome to take you back with me. That is, if you want to go?"

  "I do, I do," she told him almost in tears.

  "Then go right in," he commanded. "Won't your cousins suspect somethingif they see you talking like this to a countryman?"

  "They will think I am scolding thee," she said with a tremulous littlelaugh. "And truly thee needs it, John. I never saw a cord of wood piledso crookedly before in my life."

  "They'll be glad to get wood in any shape if this weather keeps on, I'mthinking," he made answer. "Now do go right in, Peggy. And don't forgetthat stableman."

  Peggy hastened within doors, sent the man to help with the wood, andthen tried to regain her usual composure by preparing a meal forDrayton.

  "The poor lad," was her mental comment a little later as she watched theyoung fellow stow away the food that was placed before him. "He eats asthough he had had nothing all winter."

  This was nearer truth than she dreamed. Had she but known the conditionof the army at Morristown she would not have wondered at the boy'svoraciousness. She hovered about him, attending to his needs carefully,longing but not daring to ask the many questions that crowded to herlips. It would not do to risk conversation of any sort in the house.There were too many coming and going. As it was the servants gazed ather in surprise, curious as to her interest in a teamster. The mealfinished, Drayton rose with a word of thanks, and crossed to the firewhich blazed upon the kitchen hearth.

  Peggy felt a sudden apprehension as she heard Harriet's step in thehall. What if she should enter the kitchen? Would Drayton be safe fromthe keen scrutiny of her sharp eyes? The lad himself seemed to feel nouneasiness, but hung over the roaring fire of hickory logs as thoughreluctant to leave its warmth. Making a pretense of replenishing thefire Peggy whispered:

  "Go, go! Harriet is coming." Drayton roused himself with a start, drewhis wrappings close about him, and, giving her a significant look,passed through the outside door just as Harriet entered the room fromthe passage.

  "Who was that, Peggy?" she asked sharply.

  "The man with the wood," answered Peggy busied about the fire. "I gavehim something to eat."

  "Mercy, Peggy! Is it necessary to feed such riffraff? They are all apack of rebels. No wonder father complains of expense."

  Peggy's cheeks flamed with indignation. "Would thee send any one away insuch weather without first giving him food?" she demanded. "'Twould beinhuman!"

  "And I suppose thee wouldn't treat a Britisher so," mimicked Harriet whowas plainly in a bad humor. "Did father tell you that Sir Henry Clintonwas to dine here to-day?"

  "Yes," returned Peggy gravely. "'Tis fortunate that 'tis market day, forthere are some things needed. I shall have to use the sleigh. Thee won'tmind? I cannot get into the city otherwise."

  "Oh, take it, by all means," replied Harriet. "I wouldn't go out in thisweather for a dozen Sir Henrys. La, la! 'tis cold!" She shivered inspite of the great fire. "What doth father wish to see Sir Henry alonefor?" she asked abruptly. "He told me but now that he did not desire mycompany after dinner. And I had learned a new piece on the harpsichord,too," she ended pettishly.

  "I know not, Harriet," said Peggy instantly troubled. She did not doubtbut that it had something to do with the movement against GeneralWashington, but she did not utter her suspicion. "Mayhap 'tis businessof moment."

  "Oh, yes; I dare say," retorted Harriet. She yawned, and left the room.

  Peggy gave the necessary orders for the dinner and then quietly arrayedherself for the marketing. She was allowed a certain freedom ofmovement, and went into the city about business of the household withoutquestion. With scrupulous conscientiousness she attended to themarketing first, and then bidding the coachman wait for her, wentrapidly to Little Queen Street on foot.

  She had met with but few Quakers. They were regarded as neutrals, butColonel Owen disliked them as a sect and had forbidden her to holdcommunication with them. Still Peggy knew where many of them lived, andamong these was Rachel Kenton. It was a quaint Dutch house, easilyfound. New York was not so large as Philadelphia at this time, and Peggyhastened up the stoop with eagerness, her heart beating with delight atthe prospect of at last hearing from her dear ones.

  A pleasant-faced, sweet-mannered woman responded to her knock, andushered her at once into a room just off the sitting-room, where Draytonsat awaiting her. She ran to him with outstretched hands.

  "Now I can tell thee how glad I am to see thee," she cried. "And oh,John, do tell me of my mother! And father! How are they?"

  "Both are well," he answered, "but they have grieved over your goingaway. Why did you leave camp, Peggy?"

  "'Twas because of Harriet," she told him. "She was a spy, John. Theywould have hanged her had they found out that it was she who wrote thatnote. And oh, what did General Washington say when he found me gone? Ithath been so long since then, and never a word could I hear."

  "Well, he was pretty much cut up over it, and so were we all. Yourmother thought that Harriet must be at the bottom of the matter, and sodid I. Her boxes were searched, and some notes found that proved she wasa spy. Then, too, we made that fellow confess to everything he knew. Youremember him, Peggy? He accused you."

  "Yes," answered Peggy. "I remember, John. I can never forget how I feltwhen he accused me of being the girl who gave him that letter. And itwasn't the same one at all."

  "We got at the whole affair right well," continued Drayton. "What wecould not understand was the fact that you came on to New York with yourcousin. Why did you?"

  "I couldn't help it," she said. "They brought me by force. I begged togo back, but they wouldn't let me." Hereupon she told him the wholestory, ending with: "And Cousin William says that he had a score tosettle with me--and that was the reason he wanted me to come. John, theewill tell the general that I could not help coming?"

  "Yes," he said, with difficulty restraining his indignation. "Peggy,Harriet would not have been hanged. They might have sent her out of thelines, or even made her a prisoner, but they would not have hanged her.Not but what she would have deserved it just as much as that poor fellowwho was hanged agreeable to his sentence, but being a girl would havesaved her."

  "But thee said that it went hard with spies, whether they were men,women, or girls even," objected she. "And General Washington used almostthe same words."

  "And so it does," he replied, "but there are other punishments thanhanging. Never mind that now, Peggy. Let us plan to get away. I musttake the ox cart back into Jersey this afternoon. I have a pass for oneonly, but I am to take back salt, coffee and flour. There is an emptysack, and if you will hide within it we may be able to pass you asmerchandise. Will you try it, Peggy?"

  "I will do anything," she declared excitedly. "It hath been so long! Solong, John, since I have seen mother that I am willing to attemptanything."

/>   "Wrap up well," he advised her. "'Tis terrible weather, and be somewhereamong the trees as I come past the house. It will be about half-pastfour, as it grows dark then, and the bags will not be so sharplyscrutinized. Once the cart is home we will have to run our chances ofgetting to Morristown."

  "John," she cried as a sudden thought came to her, "there is somemovement on foot against the general. I did not think to tell theebefore. I know not what it is."

  Drayton looked up quickly.

  "I wish we knew what it was," he said. "There have been signs of anaction on the part of the British, but we have been unable to obtain aninkling of what it could be. I would like right well to know."

  "And so would I," said she.

  "Go now," he said rising. "You must not let them suspect there isanything afoot, Peggy. I will move about in the city and see what I canfind out. Be sure to wrap up."

  "I will," she told him. "I hate to let thee go."

  "'Tis only for a little while," he answered. "'Twill be a hard journeyfor you, Peggy, but your mother is at the end of it."

  "Yes, yes," she cried. "Mother is at the end."

  Unable to speak further she turned and left him. The day was extremelycold, and as she entered the house after the drive, and felt the warmthof the fire, she became aware of a delicious drowsiness that wasstealing over her.

  "This will never do," she exclaimed, trying to shake off the feeling. "Imust keep awake." But try as she would her eyelids grew heavier untilfinally she sought Harriet in the drawingroom.

  "Harriet," she said, "will thee serve the dinner? I am so sleepy fromthe drive that I must lie down a few moments. I know right well that Ishould not give up, but----"

  "Nonsense," cried Harriet crossly; "go lie down an you will, Peggy. Onewould think to hear you talk that dinner could not be served withoutyou. 'Tis provoking the airs you give yourself! I dare say you will notbe missed."

  "Thank thee, Harriet," answered Peggy. "Thee will not find it irksome.'Tis about ready." The tired girl slipped down to the now emptydrawing-room.

  "I fear me I must hide if I want a minute to myself," she thought,gazing about the large room in search of a safe retreat. "And I musthave my wits about me to help John. If I can but close my eyes for amoment, just a moment, I will be in proper trim." Presently she spiedthe large easy chair much affected by Colonel Owen, and she ran towardit with an exclamation of delight.

  "'Tis the very thing!" she cried, drawing it to the most remote cornerof the room, and turning it about so that it faced the wall. "Now letthem find me if they can." And so saying she ensconced herself in itscapacious recesses, and almost instantly fell asleep.

  "And you think the plan will not miscarry?" came the voice of thecommander-in-chief of the British forces in America.

  Peggy awoke with a start. Was she dreaming or did she in truth hear hercousin say:

  "There is not the least chance of it, Sir Henry. The rebel general hathhis quarters full two miles from his main army, and owing to the coldand the snow no danger is apprehended; so his guards are trifling. Wecan easily slip upon him and be away with him before mishap can befallus. Once we have possession of his person the whole rebellion falls tothe ground. It all depends upon him."

  "True," was the reply in musing tones. "Well, colonel, I have placed theflower of the army at your disposal. But let this alert[[3]] succeed andit shall be brought to His Majesty's notice that 'tis you alone to whomhonor is due. 'Tis my hope that 'twill not fail."

  "It cannot," replied Colonel Owen in eager tones. "We leave at nightfallby way of Newark. Just beyond Newark on the Morris turnpike lives oneAmos Henderson, who is favorable to us, and much laments this broilagainst the king. He it is who will have a guide ready to take us to theheights of Morristown. In twenty-four hours, sir, I will bring the rebelgeneral in person to your quarters."

  "I see not how it can fail," remarked Sir Henry. "The utmost secrecyhath been maintained concerning the matter. But did you not say thatdinner was served? That, sir, is a function with which nothing short ofa rebel attack should interfere. The plan of the new works, whichMontressor says you have, can be discussed afterward."

  "Come, then," said the colonel.

  Peggy slipped from the chair and running up-stairs quickly to her ownroom, sat down to think.

  "I must not go with John," was her decision. "He must get to the generalwithout delay. They said 'twould end the war if he were taken. And itwould. It would! I wonder what the time is?"

  It was but half-past two, and it seemed to the anxious girl as thoughfour o'clock, which was the time for Drayton's appearance, would nevercome. But at last she heard the clock in the hall chime out the hour,and Peggy arose, wrapped herself warmly, and left the house quietly. Thesnow was still falling. The numerous trees on the wide-spreading lawn,as well as the huge snow-drifts, effectually hid the road from view ofthe mansion.

  Peggy had scarcely taken her position near a bare thicket when she heardthe crunch of wheels over the snow, and soon the ox cart appeared downthe road. Drayton was whistling, and to all appearance was thecountryman he seemed. Peggy awaited him with impatience.

  "John," she cried as the lad drew up opposite her, "John, there is analert planned to take General Washington. Cousin William starts atnightfall for Morristown with a force to accomplish it."

  "What?" exclaimed he. Peggy repeated her statement, and then quicklytold him the entire affair.

  "And thee must lose no time," she said. "Go right on, John, quickly."

  "And you, Peggy?" he cried. "Jump in and let us take the risk of gettingthrough together."

  "No," she said. "Thee must stop for nothing. 'Twould hinder thee ingetting to the general. Now go, John. 'Twill not be long ere the troopsgather here."

  "But to leave you, Peggy," he exclaimed. "I like it not. Were it not forthe chief I would not. It may be best. As you say there is need forhaste, but I will come again for you."

  "No, no; 'tis too full of risk," she said. "Go, John, go! I fear forthee every moment that thee stays."

  "I am going," he said sorrowfully. "Tell me by which road this alertgoes?"

  "To Newark, and then by the Morris turnpike. They get a guide at AmosHenderson's," she told him.

  "Good-bye," he said. "I will come again for you, Peggy."

  "Good-bye, John," answered Peggy hardly able to speak. "And tell mymother--my mother, John----"

  "Yes," he said. They clasped hands. "Don't worry, Peggy. This will bethe alert that failed."

  Peggy waited until she could no longer hear his cheery whistle down theroad and then stole back into the house.

  Drayton was right. Four and twenty hours later the most disgruntled lotof Britishers that the city ever beheld returned, fatigued and halffrozen from their fruitless quest. The famous alert from which so muchwas hoped had failed.

  -----[3] "Alert," an old word meaning an attack.