CHAPTER X.
IN CLINTON'S TENTS.
"Give me liberty or give me death." --PATRICK HENRY.
Hatless, furious, half-blind from dust and the trickling of the bloodfrom the wound in the head that had dazed and rendered him powerlessto escape back to his own ranks after meeting the enemy, Richard wasdragged along with the British until their position was regained, andthence despatched to the rear, where the other prisoners were held underguard. There he lay on the ground for an hour, listening and longingfeverishly for the sound of Washington's assaulting guns; but thetwilight deepened into starlit dusk, and no rescue came. Then finally heknew by the preparations about him that no further attack was expected,but that a retreat was intended. Clinton dared not await the return ofdaylight and the fight it would bring; and so in the still hours of thenight, while the Continentals slept the sleep of utter exhaustion afterthe marches and counter-marches and combats of that sultry day, he drewhis force away, leaving his dead unburied upon the field, and his sorelywounded in the deserted camp. To the very last moment, Richard hadlistened for an attack, hoping that Washington had waited to plan asurprise; but over in the direction of the American camp all was silent.During the last half of that awful night Richard marched with the squadof prisoners along the road that led to the sea. The wound in his head,although but slight, made him dizzy with its throbbing, and his heartcalled out fiercely for freedom and Joscelyn. He had asked not to be putinto the wagon with the wounded, protesting he was more able to walkthan some others; but in reality he was meditating an escape, and knewit would be more easily accomplished from the ranks than from a guardedwagon. Eagerly he watched for a chance. The bonds that at first held theprisoners together had been removed to expedite the retreat,--there wasno time that night to spare for any kind of lagging,--so that he wasfree to go alone if the opportunity came. Always his gaze was ahead,every shadow across the road held a possibility, every dark hollow wasentered with hope. But the guard, as though divining his intention,closed in compactly at these points and made egress impossible; and sohe plodded on until, with the returning daylight, they found him reelinglike a drunken man with fatigue and loss of blood, and, putting him intoan ambulance, carried him on toward Sandy Hook. From utter weariness andhopelessness he fell asleep in the jolting vehicle, and only waked atthe prod of a bayonet to find the sun well past the zenith.
"Get up with you and let somebody take your place while you foot it abit," a rough voice said; and Richard sprang from the vehicle and helpedlittle Billy Bryce, of his own town, into his place, exclaimingvehemently against his own selfish slumbering.
"Nay, nay," said the lad, "I am not wounded, more's the shame to me forbeing taken! Besides, I have had a long rest under the wagon here, forwe halted before noon. I begged the guard not to waken you, but I putyour rations aside. Here--you must be near to starvation."
Richard caught eagerly at the pork and ship biscuit which the lad heldout; it seemed ages since he had tasted food.
"And you'll be better with your head washed," the guard said, notunkindly, pointing to a little stream that trickled by the roadside; andRichard was quick to obey.
In a little while they were in motion again, this time more leisurely,and once more thoughts of escape filled Richard with a restless energy.The country was more broken here; to hide would be easier, and he waitedimpatiently for the coming of the dark, determined at all hazards tomake the attempt--another sunset might put him behind prison bars. Buthe was doomed to disappointment, for they were not to march all night,but with the early stars pitched their tents upon a flat stretch ofcountry that opened to the east.
Worn out by the long marches and the cloying sand through which they hadtoiled, the army soon slept profoundly. Tied together for greatersecurity, the prisoners lay like so many sardines in their tent, beforewhich trod a sentinel. At first there was much whispering among them asto their probable fate, and not a few solemn farewells to home and dearones, with now and then a happy reminiscence such as often comes withthe acme of irony to doomed men. One recalled his courting days, anotherthe swimming pool under the willows; and yet another his baby's laugh.And set lips relaxed into smiling until suddenly the memory stabbed witha new pain.
"I shall never see my mother any more, for I know I shall die in thatdreadful prison; but you'll be good to me, won't you, Richard?" groanedlittle Billy Bryce, who lay next to Richard with his right hand tied tothe latter's left.
And Richard comforted him as best he could, and by and by the lad sleptwith the others.
"I hope they will always let me stay with you," had been his last sleepywhisper. For among the bigger boys Richard had been his hero andprotector, and no service was ever too great for him to undertake forhis idol. And Richard had petted and yet imposed upon him in the waypeculiar to all boys of a larger growth, when a small one asks nothingbetter than to obey. It was really to be with Richard as much as toshare in the war that he had stolen away from his mother and followedthe Hillsboro' men to the field.
At last the tent was quiet save for the deep breathing of the tired men,but Richard could not close his eyes; he meant to get away. After thewatch was changed toward midnight was the time he had set as the mostfavourable for his plan. All being then found secure, the new guardwould be over-sure--and he, like the rest, was worn out with the trialsof the past two days. Certainly that was the best time; a confident,tired sentinel ought not to be hard to elude. And he lay still, softlygnawing the rope that bound him to Billy. As he was at the end of theline, his right arm was free, and so his fingers aided his teeth to pickthe threads apart. Thus an hour went by, and then the lad beside himstirred.
"What are you doing, Richard?" he whispered; then added quickly, as hisarm felt the loosened cord: "Why, you have bitten the rope in two. Youare going to escape? Take me with you, in mercy's name, Richard; do notleave me to die in the prison yonder! Richard, let me go, too."
"H--sh!" whispered Richard, sternly, for the boy's excitement was liketo arouse the whole body of prisoners, perchance even alarm the guardoutside. "Be still, Billy! I cannot take you--two could never pass theguard. I am sorry; I--I--wish you had not waked."
But the lad, whose arm was now free because of the final severance ofthe cord, caught his hand as with a drowning grip: "You must takeme--you must!"
"I cannot."
"Oh, I will not go on to rot in that vile prison; I am so young, and mymother has nobody but me! Don't you know how I have always loved you,Richard? You never asked me to do anything that I was not ready to tryit. I'd never leave you here if I were going to freedom--never!"
To take him lessened his chances more than half, and Heaven knew howslender they were already; but the struggle in Richard's mind lastedonly a moment. Then he leaned over the boy's body and began carefullyand quietly to untie the cord that bound him to the next sleeper,stopping now and then when the man made any movement. The lad, guessinghis consent by his action, spoke no word, but lifted his head and kissedhim on the cheek; and Richard felt the tears that coursed down thesmooth face.
"You confounded young idiot!" he whispered, but his voice was verytender, and presently, when the knot was loosed, he drew the lad closeto him and told his plan.
"God grant we may both of us get safely away; but if only one of ussucceeds, and that should be I, then will I carry your love to yourmother."
"And if I escape, I shall do the like for you."
"Ay, laddie, and more; for you shall say to Joscelyn Cheshire that evenbehind prison bars I am her lover; and if death comes, her face, or theblessed memory of it, will outshine those of the angels of Paradise."
"You love her so, then?"
"As a man loves sunshine and warmth and beauty and life."
"And she loves you?"
"No, lad, she loves me not."
And the boy left the silence that followed unbroken, knowing the otherwished it so.
A while later they heard the call of the watch farther down the be
at,and presently the sound of steps outside and the welcome "All's well!"of the relieved sentry. Turning upon their backs with the ravelled endsof the cords hidden close between them, they seemed asleep like theircomrades when the watchman cast the light of his lantern through theflapping canvas door.
"Too d--n tired to give any trouble," the out-going sentinel said as heglanced along the line. "You will have an easy time to-night." Then hewent away, and the two watchers in the tent waited for what seemed aneternity. Finally Richard lifted the edge of the tent and looked out.The sentinel leaned against a small tree in front of the tent, his gunheld slack in his fingers. He was very tired, even to drowsiness.
"Now," Richard whispered, and crawled stealthily from under the rear ofthe tent, followed by Billy. Keeping in the shadow of the tents, theymoved on hands and knees across the ground toward a clump of bushes thatpromised a hiding-place for reconnoitring. Only twenty yards the stretchwas, but to those two crawling figures it seemed a mile. Every weed thatswayed against its fellow had in it the sound of a rushing wind, andevery twig that broke under hands or knees seemed like the crack of arifle. To their overwrought senses each breath the other drew was as thesough of a tempest, and they scarcely understood how the sentry couldnot hear. So slowly they had to move that it took fully twenty minutesto cover those few yards. Then, while Billy lay still in the shadow,Richard raised himself stealthily and looked about. They could havehappened upon no worse place for their attempt. It was near the end of ashort beat up and down which two sentinels trod, passing each other nearthis end, so that only a few moments intervened when one or the otherdid not command the whole beat with his eye and gun. Behind and oneither side stretched the tents of the sleeping army, set thick withpicket posts and guards. On the other side of the narrow road was a rocklarge enough to conceal a man, and beyond this was a field of highgrass, to gain which meant freedom. Not a detail of the starlit sceneescaped Richard. To go backward or to the right or left was to fall intorepeated dangers; this was the way since they were here. If only thesentries passed each other in the middle of the beat, that there mightbe more time when this crossing in front of them would be a littlelonger unguarded!
He stood irresolute, trying to think accurately; but a noise behind lefthim no time for further hesitation. Something was amiss yonder in therear,--perhaps their flight had been discovered. Billy, too, had heard,and rising, stood close behind; softly he put out his hand and drew thelad before him. One agile spring across the road, a moment's hiding inthe shadow of the rock yonder, then the tall grass and liberty; butbetween the passing of the sentinels was time for only one man to crossto safety--only one man could hide yonder behind that rock! The littlelad saw it, and his lips twitched.
"Good-by," he whispered, trying to move back.
But Richard held him fast. In his hands was not the semblance of atremor, but his face was ashen even in the dim light.
"Remember Joscelyn," he breathed, rather than spoke; then, as the guardpassed, he gave the lad a push. "Go."
With a stealthy, gliding step Billy was across the road and behind therock as Richard dropped to the ground and the guard turned round.Evidently the man's trained ear had detected some sound, for he pausedand brought his gun to his shoulder. Richard's eyes were on the rockover the road; if Billy moved now, they were both lost; but all wasstill, and the guard once more took up his march. When he was gone a fewpaces Richard saw a dark object crawl from the shadow of the rock, and amoment later the tall grass shook as if a gentle zephyr had smitten itin just one favoured spot; then all was silent and moveless save thecrickets and the night birds flapping past in the gloom.
Billy had left the way clear, and when the next sentinel should be atthe right place Richard meant to follow, and so he drew a deep breathand waited. But fortune was against him, for before the man was quiteopposite to him another guard came out into the road from the campbehind and accosted him. As they approached, Richard heard in part whatthey said:--
"--couriers just arrived--enemy moving on the Brunswick road, supposedintention to out-flank us. All outside pickets are being doubled toprevent desertion, and I am sent to mount guard here at the end of yourbeat. Two Hessians were caught in the act of deserting just now."
"I heard some kind of commotion."
"Yes; 'twill go pretty hard with them to-morrow. When we first took themwe thought they were a couple of those prisoners who were trying toescape, and the air fairly smelt of the brimstone we were ready to givethem. The light came just in time to save them. Those Hessians are ad--d set of hirelings."
He stooped to adjust his shoe-latchet, and when the regular guard passedon to the end of his beat Richard dropped down quickly, but with aninward groan, for with that man stationed there at the end of the trackescape was impossible. There had been but one chance, just one, and hehad given that away. He would not regret it, but--he should never seeJoscelyn again. It was all he could do to keep back the fierce cry thatgathered in his throat. For a long time he crouched there, hoping in theface of despair; but the dawn was coming--if he was found thus, hispunishment would be made the greater. There was no use in courtingtorture. And so, when a passing cloud obscured the stars, he crawledback across the clearing, and crept at last under the edge of the tent.
"Here, Peter," he whispered in the ear of the next man, "Billy hasescaped. I failed; but 'tis no use to tempt the devil to double mystripes. Wake up and tie this cord about my left arm that it may seem asif he gnawed it himself until it was loose."
And in the morning the guard found him asleep with a bit of ravelledrope about his arm. Search and inquiry failed to reveal anything ofBilly's escape or his whereabouts, and the incident, so far as theprisoners were concerned, ended in the volley of oaths and threatsdelivered to them second-hand by the guards from the officer of theday. They were not pleasant words to hear; but Richard only drew a deepbreath, for he had feared Billy would linger waiting for him and so betaken.
Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas Page 10