CHAPTER XXV
BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY
It was already growing dusk when I rode into our lines at Valley Forge. Abrief interview with Colonel Hamilton revealed his appreciation of mywork, and that my hastily made notes of the Philadelphia defences hadbeen received twenty-four hours earlier. They had been delivered atheadquarters by an officer of Lee's staff; no, not a boyish-lookingfellow, but a black-bearded captain whose name had been forgotten. AllHamilton could remember was that the notes had been originally brought inby an Indian scout. Eager to discover Eric Mortimer I asked a week'srelease from duty, but there was so much sickness in the camp, that thisrequest was refused, and I was ordered to my regiment.
Busy days and nights of fatigue followed. Washington, watching like ahawk every movement of Sir Henry Clinton in Philadelphia, convinced byevery report received that he was about to evacuate the city, bent allhis energies toward placing his little army in fit condition for battle.Some recruits were received, the neighboring militia were drawn upon, andmen were taken from the hospitals, and put back into the ranks as soon asstrong enough to bear arms. Inspired by the indomitable spirit of ourcommander the line officers worked incessantly in the welding together oftheir commands. I scarcely knew what sleep was, yet the importance of thecoming movement of troops held me steadfast to duty. Word came to usearly in June that Count d'Estaing, with a powerful French fleet, wasapproaching the coast. This surely meant that Clinton would be compelledto retreat across the Jerseys, and a portion of our troops were advancedso as to be within easy striking distance of the city the moment theevacuation took place. The remaining commands pressed farther north, nearconvenient crossings of the Delaware, prepared for a forced march acrossthe British line of retreat. Maxwell's brigade, with which I wasconnected, even crossed the river in advance, cooeperating with GeneralDickinson and his New Jersey militia. All was excitement, commotion,apparently disorder, yet, even amid that turmoil of approaching battle,Hamilton recalled my request, and granted me two days' leave. His briefnote reached me at Coryell's Ferry, and, an hour later, I was ridingswiftly across the country to where Lee had headquarters.
Not once during all those days and nights had the memory of Claire leftme. Over and over in my mind I had reviewed all that had ever occurredbetween us, striving in vain to guess the riddle. Now I would see andtalk with her brother, and perhaps obtain the explanation needed. Yet Ihave gone into battle with less trepidation than when I rode into Lee'sheadquarters, and asked his chief-of-staff for Eric Mortimer. He lookedat me strangely, as I put the question.
"I should be very glad to oblige you, Major Lawrence," he repliedgravely, "but unfortunately I have no present knowledge of the youngman."
"But he was attached to General Lee's staff?"
"Only in a way--he was useful to us as a scout because of his intimateknowledge of the Jerseys. His home, I understand, was near Mount Holly."
"What has become of him?"
"All I know is, he was sent out on a special mission, by Washington's ownorders, nearly a month ago. We have not directly heard from him since. AnIndian brought us a partial report of his operations up to that time;since then we have received nothing."
"An Indian!" I exclaimed. "The same who brought in my notes?"
"I believe so; yes, now that I recall the matter. I had no opportunity toquestion the fellow; he simply left the papers with the orderly, anddisappeared."
"And you have heard nothing from young Mortimer since?"
"Not a word."
"He must be dead, or a prisoner."
The chief smiled rather grimly.
"Or deserted," he added sharply. "I am more inclined toward that theory.He was a reckless young devil, attracted to our service more, it seemedto me, by a spirit of dare-deviltry than patriotism. Lee thought well ofhim, but I was always suspicious. He belonged to a family of loyalists,his father a Colonel of Queen's Rangers. Did you know him, Lawrence?"
"The father, not the son. But I am not willing to believe evil of theboy. I cannot conceive that treachery is in the Mortimer blood, sir, andshall have to be convinced before I condemn the lad. When did he leavehere last?"
"About the middle of May."
"Would you mind telling me his mission? Where he was sent?"
The officer glanced keenly into my face; then ran hastily over a packageof papers taken from an open trunk.
"I can see no harm in doing so now, Major. He was sent to communicatewith a British officer--a prominent Tory--who has associations with 'Red'Fagin, and others in Monmouth County. This officer has in the past, for aconsideration, furnished us with valuable information, generally throughyoung Mortimer who knew him. He had written us that he had more to sell."
"Where were they to meet?"
"At a rendezvous known as the Lone Tree, not far from Medford."
"Was the Tory officer named Grant?"
He stared at me in surprise.
"I am not at liberty to answer."
"Oh, very well; however, I understand the situation even better than youdo probably. Only I advise you one thing--don't condemn that boy untilyou learn the truth. Grant is an unmitigated, cold-blooded scoundrel, andthe treachery is his. You'll learn that, if you wait long enough.Mortimer is either dead, or in Fagin's hands. Good-night."
I passed out, and was beyond the guard, before he could recall me, evenhad he desired to do so. I had no wish to talk with him longer. I feltdisappointed, sick at heart, and realized this staff-officer was stronglyprejudiced against young Mortimer. It seemed to me I saw a little light,although not much. Eric had been at Elmhurst, and Claire was not innocentof his presence in that neighborhood. She was shielding him, and it wasthrough her help that his first report to Lee had been sent back by theIndian. Then Eric must have been in the house while I was there. Indeedit must have been Eric who made me prisoner. And to protect him she hadtold me a deliberate falsehood. Well, I could not blame the girl--afterGrant's open treachery (and doubtless she must have known something ofhis double-dealing) she would scarcely trust any one, especially acomparative stranger. It hurt me a little to realize this lack of faithon her part, and yet it was not strange after all. Her brother's lifecould not be put to the hazard of betrayal; perhaps she overestimated hisperil, and the importance of his mission.
As I rode back through the night, finding a path almost by instinctthrough the maze of military encampments, I thought of all these things,exonerating her from wrong, and yet wondering more and more at her realconnection with the various events. The chief had not stated whatinformation of value Grant had promised to reveal; nor what Eric's firstreport had contained. In my sudden disappointment I had forgotten toinquire. And where could the boy be? What could have happened to him?Something serious surely to keep him thus hidden for nearly a month.Claire would know, but she was probably long ago back in Philadelphia inthe heart of the British garrison. And I? Well, I was tied hand and footby discipline; helpless to turn aside from duty now in the face of thisnew campaign. Every man was needed, and no personal consideration wouldexcuse my leaving the ranks even for a day. It was with heavy heart Irode into the camp of my regiment, and lay down on the bare ground, withhead pillowed upon the saddle, knowing the drums would sound in a fewshort hours.
It was hard to work through the routine of the next few days, althoughsome excitement was given us of Maxwell's brigade by scouting detailssent across the valley to observe the movements of the British patrols.On such duty I passed the greater portion of two days in the saddle, and,by chance, met both Farrell and Duval, who were with the Jerseymilitiamen, now rapidly coming in to aid us, as the rumors of animpending battle spread across country. Farrell came at the head of fiftymen, rough looking, raggedly dressed fellows, but well armed, and I had aword with him while pointing out where Dickinson's troops were camped.Unfortunately he knew little of value to me. Mortimer's column of Queen'sRangers had passed his place on their return to Philadelphia two daysafter my escape. Grant was not with them, but Claire was, while Pe
ter hadbeen left behind at Elmhurst. Fagin had not been overtaken, although theRangers had engaged in a skirmish with some of his followers, losing twomen. Colonel Mortimer had been wounded slightly. As to Eric he knewnothing--no one had even mentioned the lad's name.
It was thus clearly evident I could do nothing, although I now possesseda well defined theory of just what had occurred. To my mind Eric was inthe hands of Fagin, either hidden securely away among the sand caves forsome purpose connected with Grant's treachery, or else with the intentionof claiming the reward for his capture offered by Howe. The formerprobably seemed most likely in view of Grant's failure to return toPhiladelphia with Colonel Mortimer, yet there was no reason why theconspirators should not wreak vengeance, and win the reward also. But didClaire know, or suspect the predicament of her brother? If she did, thenshe was seeking to conceal the truth from her father, but would neverremain long inactive in the city. I knew the girl's real spirit far toowell to believe she would fail for long in learning the boy's fate. Andwhen she did she would act quickly. Perhaps even now she was back atElmhurst, facing peril in the track of the contending armies, striving togive the lad refuge.
In an agony of apprehension I asked for a scouting detail in thatdirection, but was sternly refused. Word had come that Clinton wasevacuating Philadelphia; that his advance was already across theDelaware. Any moment might bring to our little army orders to pressforward to intercept him. I was a soldier, compelled to remain.
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