CHAPTER IV.
THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON.
The Peytons of Virginia were descended from a younger son of thePeytons of Pelham, England, of which family was Sir Edward Peyton, ofPelham, knight and baronet. Sir Edward's relative, the first AmericanPeyton, settled in Westmoreland County. Within one generation thefamily had spread to Stafford County, and within another to LoudounCounty also. Thus it befell that there was a Mr. Craven Peyton, ofLoudoun County, justice of the peace, vestryman, and chief warden ofShelburne Parish. He was the father of nine sons and two daughters.One of the sons was Harry.
This Harry grew up longing to be a soldier. Military glory was hisambition, as it had been Washington's; but not as a mere provincialwould he be satisfied to excel. He would have a place as a regularofficer, in an army of the first importance, on the fields of Europe.Before the Revolution, Americans were, like all colonials, very loyalto their English King. Therefore would Harry Peyton be content withnaught less than a King's commission in the King's army.
His father, glad to be guided in choosing a future for one of so manysons, sent Harry to London in 1770, to see something of life, and somanaged matters, through his English relations, that the boy was in1772, at the age of nineteen, the possessor, by purchase, of anensign's commission. He was soon sent to do garrison duty in Ireland,being enrolled with the Sixty-third Regiment of Foot.
He had lived gaily enough during his two years in London, occupyinglodgings, being patronized by his relations, seeing enough of society,card-tables, drums, routs, plays, prize-fights, and other diversions.He had made visits in the country and showed what he had learned inVirginia about cock-fighting, fox-hunting and shooting, and had takenlessons from London fencing-masters. A young gentleman from Virginia,if well off and "well connected," could have a fine time in London inthose days; and Harry Peyton had it.
But he could never forget that he was a colonial. If he weretreated by his English associates as an equal, or even at timeswith a particular consideration, there was always a kind ofimplication that he was an exception among colonials. Othercolonial youths were similarly treated, and some of these were gladto be held as exceptions, and even joined in the derision of thecolonials who were not. For these Harry Peyton had a mighty disgustand detestation. He did not enjoy receiving as Harry Peyton atolerance and kindness that would have been denied him as merely anAmerican. And he sometimes could not avoid seeing that, even asHarry Peyton, he was regarded as compensating, by certain attractivequalities in the nature of amiability and sincerity, for occasionalexhibitions of what the English rated as social impropriety andbad taste. Often, at the English lofty derision of colonials, atthe English air of self-evident superiority, the English pretence ofpolitely concealed shock or pain or offence at some infringement of apurely superficial conduct-code of their own arbitrary fabrication,he ground his teeth in silence; for in one respect, he had as goodmanners as the English had then, or have now,--when in Rome he didnot resent or deride what the Romans did. He began to think that thelot of a self-respecting American among the English, even if hewere himself made an exception of and well dealt with, was not themost enviable one. And, after he joined the army, he thought thismore and more every day. But he would show them what a colonialcould rise to! Yet that would prove nothing for his countrymen, ashe would always, on his meritorious side, be deemed an exception.
His military ambition, however, predominated, and he had no thought ofleaving the King's service.
The disagreement between the King and the American Colonies grew,from "a cloud no bigger than a man's hand," to something larger.But Harry heard little of it, and that entirely from the Englishpoint of view. He received but three or four letters a year fromhis own people, and the time had not come for his own people to writemuch more than bare facts. They were chary of opinions. Harrysupposed that the new discontent in the Colonies, after the repeal ofthe Stamp Act and the withdrawal of the two regiments from BostonTown to Castle William, was but that of the perpetually restless,the habitual fomenters, the notoriety-seeking agitators, the mob,whose circumstances could not be made worse and might be improved bydisturbances. Now the Americans, from being a subject of nointerest to English people, a subject discussed only when some rarecircumstance brought it up, became more talked of. Sometimes, whenAmericans were blamed for opposing taxes to support soldiery usedfor their own protection, Harry said that the Americans could protectthemselves; that the English, in wresting Canada from the French,had sought rather English prestige and dominion than security for thecolonials; that the flourishing of the Colonies was despite Englishneglect, not because of English fostering; that if the English hadsolicitude for America, it was for America as a market for their owntrade. Thereupon his fellow officers would either laugh him out,as if he were too ignorant to be argued with, or freeze him out,as if he had committed some grave outrage on decorum. And Harry wouldrage inwardly, comparing his own ignorance and indecorousness with theknowledge and courtesy exemplified in the assertion of Doctor Johnson,when that great but narrow Englishman said, in 1769, of Americans,"Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful foranything we allow them short of hanging."
There came to Harry, now and then, scraps of vague talk of uneasinessin Boston Town, whose port the British Parliament had closed, topunish the Yankees for riotously destroying tea on which there was atax; of the concentration there of British troops from Halifax,Quebec, New York, the Jerseys, and other North American posts. Butthere was not, in Harry's little world of Irish garrison life, theslightest expectation of actual rebellion or even of a momentous localtumult in the American Colonies.
Imagine, therefore, his feelings when, one morning late in March in1775, he was told that, within a month's time, the Sixty-third, andother regiments, would embark at Cork for either Boston or New York!
There could not be a new French or Spanish invasion. As for theIndians, never again would British regulars be sent against them. Wasit, then, Harry's own countrymen that his regiment was going tofight?
His comrades inferred the cause of his long face, and laughed. Hewould have no more fighting to do in America against the Americansthan he had to do in Ireland against the Irish, or than an Englishofficer in an English barrack town had to do against the English. Thereinforcements were being sent only to overawe the lawless element.The mere sight of these reinforcements would obviate any occasion fortheir use. The regiment would merely do garrison duty in Americainstead of in Ireland or elsewhere.
He had none to advise or enlighten him. What was there for him to dobut sail with his regiment, awaiting disclosures or occurrences toguide? What misgivings he had, he kept to himself, though once on thevoyage, as he looked from the rocking transport towards the west, heconfided to Lieutenant Dalrymple his opinion that 'twas damned badluck sent _his_ regiment to America, of all places.
When he landed in Boston, June 12th, he found, as he had expected,that the town was full of soldiers, encamped on the common andquartered elsewhere; but also, as he had not expected, that the troopswere virtually confined to the town, which was fortified at the Neck;that the last time they had marched into the country, throughLexington to Concord, they had marched back again at a much fastergait, and left many score dead and wounded on the way; and that a hostof New Englanders in arms were surrounding Boston! The news of April19th had not reached Europe until after Harry had sailed, nor had itmet his regiment on the ocean. When he heard it now, he could onlybecome more grave and uneasy. But the British officers were scornfulof their clodhopper besiegers. In due time this rabble should bescattered like chaff. But was it a mere rabble? Certainly. Were notthe best people in Boston loyal to the King's government? Some ofthem, yes. But, as Harry went around with open eyes and ears, eagerfor information, he found that many of them were with the "rabble."News was easy to be had. The citizens were allowed to pass the barrieron the Neck, if they did not carry arms or ammunition, and there wasno strict discipline in the camp of New Englanders. Therefore Harrysoon learned
how Doctor Warren stood, and the Adamses, and Mr. JohnHancock; and that a Congress, representing all the Colonies, was nowsitting at Philadelphia, for the second time; and that in the Congresshis own Virginia was served by such gentlemen as Mr. Richard HenryLee, Mr. Patrick Henry, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, and Colonel Washington.And the Virginians had shown as ready and firm a mind for revoltagainst the King's measures as the New Englanders had. Here, for once,the sympathies of trading Puritan and fox-hunting Virginian were one.Moreover, a Yankee was a fellow American, and, after five years ofcontact with English self-esteem, Harry warmed at the sight of a NewEnglander as he never would have done before he had left Virginia.
But it did not conduce to peace of mind, in his case, to be convincedthat the colonial remonstrance was neither local nor of the rabble.The more general and respectable it was, the more embarrassing was hisown situation. Would it really come to war? With ill-concealedanxiety, he sought the opinion of this person and that.
On the fourth day after his arrival, he went into a tavern in KingStreet with Lieutenant Massay, of the Thirty-fifth, Ensign Charleton,of the Fifth, and another young officer, and, while they weredrinking, heard a loyalist tell what one Parker, leader of theLexington rebels, said to his men on Lexington Common, on the morningof April 19th, when the King's troops came in sight.
"'Stand your ground,' says he. 'Don't fire till you're fired on, butif they mean to have a war, let it begin here!'"
"And it began there!" said Harry.
The English officers stared at him, and laughed.
"Ay, 'twas the Yankee idea of war," said one of them. "Run for a stonewall, and, when the enemy's back is turned, blaze away. I'd like tosee a million of the clodhoppers compelled to stand up and face a lineof grenadiers."
"Ay, gimme ten companies of grenadiers," cried one, who had doubtlessheard of General Gage's celebrated boast, "and I'll go from one end ofthe damned country to the other, and drive 'em to their holes likefoxes. Only 'tis better sport chasing handsome foxes in England thanill-dressed poltroons in Bumpkin-land."
"They're not all poltroons," said Harry, repressing his feelings themore easily through long practice. "Some of them fought in the Frenchwar. There's Putnam, and Pomeroy, and Ward. I heard Lieutenant-ColonelAbercrombie, of the Twenty-second, say yesterday that Putnam--"
"Cowards every one of 'em," broke in another. "Cowards and louts. Alady told me t'other day there ain't in all America a man whose coatsets in close at the back, except he's of the loyal party. Cowards andlouts!"
"Look here, damn you!" cried Peyton. "I want you to know I'm Americanborn, and my people are American, and I don't know whether they are ofthe loyal party or not!"
"Oh, now, that's the worst of you Americans,--always will getpersonal! Of course, there are exceptions."
"Then there are exceptions enough to make a rule themselves," saidHarry. "I'm tired hearing you call these people cowards before you'vehad a chance to see what they are. And you needn't wait for that, forI can tell you now they're not!"
"Well, well, perhaps not,--to you. Doubtless they're very dreadful,--toyou. You don't seem to relish facing 'em, that's a fact! You'll beresigning your commission one o' these days, I dare say, if it comes toblows with these terrible heroes!"
Harry saw everybody in the room looking at him with a grin.
"By the Lord," said he, "maybe I shall!" and stalked hotly out of theplace.
His wrath increased as he walked. He noticed now, more than before,the confident, arrogant air of the redcoats who promenaded thestreets; how they leered at the women, and made the citizens whopassed turn out of the way. Forthwith, he went to his quarters, andwrote his resignation.
When the ink was dry he folded up the document and put it in thepocket of his uniform coat. Then that last tavern speech recurred tohim. "If I resign now," he thought, "they'll suppose it's because Ireally am afraid of fighting, not because the rebels are mycountrymen." So he lapsed into a state of indecision,--a stateresembling apathy, a half-dazed condition, a semi-somnolent waitingfor events. But he kept his letter of resignation in his coat.
At dawn the next morning, Saturday, June 17th, he was awakened by thebooming of guns. He was soon up and out. It was a beautiful day.People were on the eminences and roofs, looking northward, across themouth of the Charles, towards Charlestown and the hill beyond. On thathill were seen rough earthworks, six feet high, which had not beenthere the day before. The booming guns were those of the Britishman-of-war _Lively_, firing from the river at the new earthworks.Hence the earthworks were the doing of the rebels, having been raisedduring the night. Presently the _Lively_ ceased its fire, but soonthere was more booming, this time not only from the men-of-war, butalso from the battery on Copp's Hill in Boston. After awhile Harrysaw, from where he stood with many others on Beacon Hill, some of therebels emerge from one part of the earthworks, as if to go away. Oneof these was knocked over by a cannon-ball. His comrades dragged hisbody behind the earthen wall. By and by a tall, strong-looking manappeared on top of the parapet, and walked leisurely along, apparentlygiving directions. Harry heard from a citizen, who had a field-glass,the words, "Prescott, of Pepperell." Other men were now visible onthe parapet, superintending the workers behind. And now the booming ofthe guns was answered by disrespectful cheers from those same unseenworkers.
The morning grew hot. Harry heard that General Gage had called acouncil of war at the Province House; that Generals Howe, Clinton,Burgoyne,[3]--these three having arrived in Boston about three weeksbefore Harry had,--Pigott, Grant, and the rest were now there inconsultation. At length there was the half-expected tumult of drum andbugle; and Harry was summoned to obey, with his comrades, the order toparade. There was now much noise of officers galloping about, dragoonsriding from their quarters, and rattling of gun-carriages. The boomingfrom the batteries and vessels increased.
At half-past eleven Harry found himself--for he was scarcely master ofhis acts that morning, his will having taken refuge in a kind ofdormancy--on parade with two companies of his regiment, and he noticedin a dim way that other companies near were from other differentregiments, all being supplied with ammunition, blankets, andprovisions. When the sun was directly overhead and at its hottest, theorder to march was given, and soon he was bearing the colors throughthe streets of Boston. The roar of the cannon now became deafening.Harry knew not whether the rebels were returning it from their hillworks across the water or not. In time the troops reached the wharf.Barges were in waiting, and field-pieces were being moved into some ofthem. He could see now that all the firing was from the King's vesselsand batteries. Mechanically he followed Lieutenant Dalrymple into abarge, which soon filled up with troops. The other barges werespeedily brilliant with scarlet coats and glistening bayonets. Not faraway the river was covered with smoke, through which flashed the fireof the belching artillery. A blue flag was waved from General Howe'sbarge, and the fleet moved across the river towards the hill where therebels waited silently behind their piles of earth.
At one o'clock, Harry followed Lieutenant Dalrymple out of the bargeto the northern shore of the river, at a point northeast ofCharlestown village and east of the Yankees' hill. There was nomolestation from the rebels. The firing from the vessels and batteriesprotected the hillside and shore. The troops were promptly formed inthree lines. Harry's place was in the left of the front line. Thenthere was long waiting. The barges went back to the Boston side. WasGeneral Howe, who had command of the movements, sending for moretroops? Many of the soldiers ate of their stock of provisions. Harry,in a kind of dream, looked westward up the hill towards the silentYankee redoubt. It faced south, west, and east. The line of itseastern side was continued northward by a breastwork, and still beyondthis, down the northern hillside to another river, ran a stragglingrail fence, which was thatched with fresh-cut hay. What were the mendoing behind those defences? What were they saying and thinking?
The barges came back across the Charles from Boston, with moretroops, but these were disembarked some dist
ance southwest, nearerCharlestown. General Howe now made a short speech to the troopsfirst landed. Then some flank guards were sent out and some cannonwheeled forward. The companies of the front line, with one of whichwas Harry, were now ordered to form into files and move straightahead. They were to constitute the right wing of the attackingforce, and to be led by General Howe himself. The four regimentscomposing the two rear lines moved forward and leftward, to form, withthe troops newly landed, the left wing, which was to be under GeneralPigott. The cannonading from the river and from Boston continued.
The companies with which was Harry advanced slowly, having to passthrough high grass, over stone fences, under a roasting sun. Thesecompanies were moving towards the hay-thatched rail fence thatstraggled down the hillside from the breastwork north of the redoubt.Harry had a vague sense that the left wing was ascending thesoutheastern side of the hill, towards the redoubt, at the same time.His eye caught the view at either side. Long files of scarlet coats,steel bayonets, grenadiers' tall caps. He looked ahead. The stretch ofgreen, grassy hillside, the hay-covered rail fence looking like ahedge-row, the rude breastwork, the blue sky. Suddenly there came fromthe rail fence the belching of field-pieces. Two grenadiers fell atthe right of Harry. One moaned, the other was silent. Harry, shockedinto a sense that war was begun between his King and his people,instantly resolved to strike no blow that day against his people. Butthis was no time for leaving the ranks. Mechanically he marched on.
Heads appeared over the fence-rail, guns were rested on it, and therecame from it some irregular flashes of musketry. Then Harry saw a manmoving his head and arms, as if shouting and gesticulating. The musketflashes ceased. Harry did not know it then, but the man was Putnam,and he was commanding the Yankees to reserve their fire. The Britishfiles were now ordered to deploy into line, and fire. They did so asthey advanced, firing in machine-like unison, as if on parade, butaiming high. Nearer and nearer, as Harry went forward, rose the fenceahead and the breastwork on the hill towards the left. Why did not theYankees fire? Were they, indeed, paralyzed with fear at sight of thelines of the King's grenadiers?
All at once blazed forth the answer,--such a volley of musketry, atclose range, as British grenadiers had not faced before. Down wentofficers and men, in twos and threes and rows. Great gaps were cut inthe scarlet lines. The broken columns returned the volley, but therecame another. Harry found himself in the midst of quivering, writhing,yelling death. The British who were left,--startled, amazed,--turnedand fled. As mechanically as he had come up, did Harry go back in thecommon movement. General Howe showed astonishment. The left wing, too,had been hurled back, down the hill, by death-dealing volleys. Therabble had held their rude works against the King's choice troops.Never had as many officers been killed or wounded in a single charge.There had not been such mowing down at Fontenoy or Montmorenci. Theseunmilitary Yankees actually aimed when they fired, each at someparticular mark! Harry had heard them cheering, and had thought theywere about to pursue the King's troops; they had evidently beenordered back.
The troops re-formed by the shore. Orders came for another assault.Back again went Harry with the right wing, bearing the colors asbefore. He had secretly an exquisite heart-quickening elation at thesuccess of his countrymen. If they should win the day, and hold thishill, and drive the King's troops from Boston! He knew, at last, onwhich side his heart was.
There was more play of artillery during this second charge. Harrycould see, too, that the village of Charlestown was on fire, sendingflames, sparks, and smoke far towards the sky. It was not as easy togo to the charge this time, there were so many dead bodies in the way.But the soldiers stepped over them, and maintained the straightness oftheir lines. Again it seemed as if the rebels would never fire. Again,when the King's troops were but a few rods from them, came thatflaming, low-aimed discharge. But the troops marched on, in the faceof it, till the very officers who urged them forward fell before it;then they wavered, turned, and ran. Harry's joy, as he went with them,increased, and his hopes mounted. The left wing, too, had been thrownback a second time.
There was a long wait, and the generals were seen consulting. At lasta third charge was ordered. This time the greater part of the rightwing was led up the hill against the breastwork. With this part wasHarry. One more volley from the rebel defences met the King's troops.They wavered slightly, then sprang forward, ready for another. Butanother came not. The rebels' ammunition was giving out. Harry'sheart fell. The British forced the breastwork, carrying him along. Hefound himself at the northern end of the redoubt. Some privates liftedhim to the parapet; he and a sergeant mounted at the same time, andleaped together into the redoubt. They saw Lieutenant Richardson, ofthe Royal Irish Regiment, appear on the southern parapet, give a shoutof triumph, and fall dead from a Yankee musket-ball. A whole rank thatfollowed him was served likewise, but others surged over the parapetin their places. The rebels were defending mainly the southernparapet. Many were retreating by the rear passageway. Harry saw thatthe King's troops had won the redoubt. He took his resolution. Hethrew the colors to the sergeant, pulled off his coat, handed it tothe same sergeant, shouting into the man's ear, "Give it to thecolonel, with the letter in the pocket;" picked up a dead man'smusket, and ran to the aid of a tall, powerful rebel who was parryingwith a sword the bayonets of three British privates. The tramp of theretreating rebels, invading British, and hand-to-hand fighters raiseda blinding dust. Harry and the tall American, gaining a breathingmoment, strode together with long steps, guarding their flank andrear, to the passageway and out of it; and then fought their coursebetween two divisions of British, which had turned the outer cornersof the redoubt. There was no firing here, so closely mingled wereBritish and rebels, the former too exhausted to use forcibly theirbayonets. So Harry retreated, beside the tall man, with the rebels. ABritish cheer behind him told the result of the day; but Harry caredlittle. His mind was at ease; he was on the right side at last.
"'GIVE IT TO THE COLONEL.'"]
Thus did young Mr. Peyton serve on both sides in the same battle,being with each in the time of its defeat, striking no blow againsthis country, yet deserting not the King's army till the moment of itsvictory. His act was indeed desertion, desertion to the enemy, and intime of action; for, though his resignation was written, it was notonly unaccepted, but even undelivered. Thus did he render himselfliable, under the laws of war, to an ignominious death should he everfall into the hands of the King's troops.
During the flight to Cambridge, Harry was separated from the tall manwith whom he had come from the redoubt, but soon saw him again, thistime directing the retreat, and learned that he was Colonel Prescott,of Pepperell. Some of the rebels discussed Harry freely in his ownhearing, inferring from his attire that he was of the British, andwondering why he was not a prisoner. Harry asked to be taken to thecommander, and at Cambridge a coatless, bare-headed captain led himto General Ward, of the Massachusetts force. That veteran militiamanheard his story, gave it credit, and, with no thought that he might bea spy, invited him to remain at the camp as a volunteer. Harryobtained a suit of blue clothes, and quartered in one of the HarvardCollege buildings. In a few days news came that the Congress atPhiladelphia had resolved to organize a Continental army, of which theNew England force at Cambridge was to be the present nucleus; that ageneral-in-chief would soon arrive to take command, and that thegeneral-in-chief appointed was a Virginian,--Colonel Washington. Harrywas jubilant.
Early in July the new general arrived, and Harry paid his respects tohim in the house of the college president. General Washington advisedthe boy to send another letter of resignation, then to go home andjoin the troops that his own State would soon be raising. On hearingHarry's story, Washington had given a momentary smile and a look atMajor-General Charles Lee, who had but recently published hisresignation of his half-pay as a retired British officer, and who didnot know yet whether that resignation would be accepted or himselfconsidered a deserter.
Peyton sent a new letter of resignation t
o Boston, then procured ahorse, and started to ride to Virginia. Six days later he was in NewYork. In a coffee-house where he was dining, he struck up anacquaintance with three young gentlemen of the city, and told his nameand story. One of the three--a dark-eyed man--thereupon changed mannerand said he had no time for a rascally turncoat. Harry, in hotresentment, replied that he would teach a damned Tory some manners. Sothe four went out of the town to Nicholas Bayard's woods, where, aftera few passes with rapiers, the dark-eyed gentleman was disarmed, andadmitted, with no good grace, that Harry was the better fencer. Harryleft New York that afternoon, having learned that his antagonist wasMr. John Colden, son of the postmaster of New York. His grandfatherhad been lieutenant-governor.
Harry had for some time thought he would prefer the cavalry, andhe was determined, if possible, to gratify that preference inentering the military service of his own country. On arriving homehe found his people strongly sympathizing with the revolt. But it wasnot until June, 1776, that Virginia raised a troop of horse. On the18th of that month Harry was commissioned a cornet thereof. Aftersome service he found himself, March 31, 1777, cornet in the FirstContinental Dragoons. The next fall, in a skirmish after the battleof Brandywine, he was recognized by British officers as the formerensign of the Sixty-third. In the following spring, thanks to hisactivity during the British occupation of Philadelphia, he was madecaptain-lieutenant in Harry Lee's battalion of light dragoons. Afterthe battle of Monmouth he was promoted, July 2, 1778, to the rank ofcaptain. In the early fall of that year he was busy in partisanwarfare between the lines of the two armies.
And thus it came that he was pursuing a troop of Hessians down the NewYork and Albany post-road on a certain cold November evening. Eager onthe chase, he was resolved to come up with them if it could be, thoughhe should have to ride within gunshot of King's Bridge itself.Suddenly his horse gave out. He had the saddle taken from the deadanimal and given to one of his men to bear while he himself mounted infront of a sergeant, for he was loath to spare a man. ApproachingPhilipse Manor-house, the party saw a boy leading horses into astable. Captain Peyton ordered some of his men to patrol the road, andwith the rest he went on to the manor-house lawn.
Here he gave further directions, dismounted, knocked at the door, andwas admitted to the hall where were Miss Elizabeth Philipse, MajorColden, Miss Sally Williams, and old Matthias Valentine; and, onElizabeth's demand, announced his name and rank.
The Continental Dragoon Page 5