CHAPTER XIII
WITH THE REDCOATS
THE fear in Tom Coward's heart, when he discovered that he was betweenthe lines of the soldiers, made him almost desperate. The men before himalready had raised their guns, and at any moment he expected to heartheir report. When he had glanced behind him he had seen that the menthere were also prepared to shoot, and he was in a position where he waslikely to receive the discharges of both sides.
Along by the side of the road was a deep ditch, which had been worn bythe spring floods. Just at present there was no water in it, and Tominstantly threw himself upon the ground, and, still grasping his gun,rolled toward the place. As he slipped over the side he heard thedischarge of the guns, and his heart almost stood still in his terror.The bullets, however, had all gone over his head, and the lad wasunharmed, although he was so frightened that even the thoughts of hisown personal safety were almost driven from his mind.
Shouts and calls followed the discharge of the guns, and then there wasa rush of men past the place in which he was lying. From the directionfrom which the men had come, Tom concluded that those who were behindhim had fled, and that the others were in swift pursuit of them. He didnot dare to raise his head, nor try to obtain a glimpse of thecombatants, but lay still in his hiding-place, hoping that in theexcitement his presence would not be discovered. The shouts continued,but as they sounded farther and farther away, the trembling ladconcluded that pursuers and pursued must have turned the bend in theroad. If they kept on, he would soon be able to crawl forth from theditch, he thought, and in the woods would find some place in which hemight remain until all the immediate danger had passed.
Still, he did not yet dare to leave his hiding-place, and, as themoments passed, his own fears and anxiety were not allayed. His face andhands were covered with the mud which had clung to them when he had slidinto the ditch. The mosquitoes gathered about him, and, do what hewould, he could not drive off the tormenting little pests. Thesultriness which had followed the brief storm was almost unbearable, andTom felt as if he could not have selected a worse place in which toconceal himself. There had not been much of any "selecting" about it, hegrimly thought, for he had crawled into the first shelter that presenteditself. A place in the muddy ditch was to be preferred to one in themiddle of the road, and between two contending bands of soldiers. Herethe bullets were not likely to find him, at least for the present, andhis only hope depended upon the possibility of his presence not havingbeen heeded. Perhaps the soldiers in either band had been so intent uponwatching what the others would do, that a frightened lad between theirlines would not be discovered.
This hope was not strong enough to induce him to leave his shelter, andhe decided to remain in the ditch until he was satisfied that all dangerwas past. The moments dragged on, and the silence which had followed thebrief contest was unbroken. The heat was becoming more and more intense,and Tom felt that he could not remain much longer in his presentposition. Still, he waited and listened, but the sound of the cawingcrows was all that he could hear. He counted off the minutes, and whenwhat he judged must be an hour had passed, he concluded to remain thereno longer. The men had not been heard in all that time, and doubtlessmust have disappeared from the immediate vicinity.
The sight of the men had shown Tom that he was nearer the army than hehad supposed. For a moment the thought of his former eager desire tojoin it came into his mind, and when he contrasted his feelings thenwith those he now had, his present position seemed almost ludicrous.Bespattered with mud, hiding in a ditch by the roadside, in constantfear of the return of the men, he certainly did not present theappearance of a very brave young soldier. Even Tom smiled as he thoughtof all this, but he was wiser than he had been a few days before thistime, and the sound of guns was not exactly like that of which he haddreamed.
Tom Coward was not lacking in bravery, however, but the position inwhich he had found himself certainly was a trying one, and perhaps theboldest of us might have done no better had we been caught in hispredicament.
The time had now come, he thought, when it must be safe for him toventure out upon the road again, and, grasping his gun, he prepared toclimb out of the ditch, when he suddenly paused as he thought he heardthe sound of voices once more.
Yes, there could be no mistake about it; the men were approaching fromthe direction in which both bands had disappeared.
He crouched lower and waited for them to pass. If they were foes, itcertainly would be wiser, as well as safer, for him not to attract theirattention; and if they were friends he was hardly in a condition topresent himself before them.
The men were coming nearer, and were almost opposite his hiding-placenow. The lad's excitement returned, and he leaned harder against themuddy bank. It seemed to him as if the loud beatings of his heart wouldbetray him.
The band had halted, and were within a few feet of the ditch. What couldit mean? Had his hiding-place been discovered? He crouched still lower,and did not once look up. He clutched his gun in his hands as if hethought he could lean upon that. The suspense was intense, and almostunbearable.
"Hello! Here's some one in the ditch!"
Tom's heart sank, and, as he glanced hastily upward, he saw a redcoatedsoldier peering down at him. The end had come, and all his efforts toconceal himself had been in vain.
"The fellow's alive," exclaimed the soldier in surprise. "Come up out ofthat and give an account of yourself!"
Tom obeyed, and, crawling up the bank, stood facing the men. There werethirty-five or forty of them, and, as he saw that they were clad in theBritish uniform, he realized that he was in the presence of the enemy.The suspense, at least, was ended now, and, as he glanced at thesoldiers, in spite of the fact that he was well aware of his danger,much of his alarm had disappeared, for Tom Coward was not unlike othersin being stronger to face the actual condition than the uncertaintywhich is connected with the approach of perils.
The men glanced curiously at him a moment and then burst into a loudlaugh. The troubled boy at first could not discover the cause of theirmerriment, but as he glanced at his hands and saw that they were coveredwith the mud which was not yet dry, he realized that doubtless his faceand clothing were in the same condition. And Tom's appearance was notvery prepossessing at that moment. His hat was gone, his face was socompletely covered with mud that any one would have had difficulty indeciding whether he was white or black, and his bearing was far frombeing bold.
The laughter of the men continued until an officer approached and said,"Who are you? What were you hiding for?"
Tom hesitated a moment, and then replied, "I was trying to keep out ofthe way of your bullets."
Again the soldiers laughed, and the officer said, "You didn't differvery much from the other fellows in the band, although they took to thewoods and you to the ditch."
"What band?"
"Why, those men of Dickinson's we've just driven away. You don't mean tosay that you didn't belong to them?"
"I didn't belong to any band," said Tom slowly. "I was just comingacross the country, and when I stepped out into the road I found I wasright between you and the other fellows. I crawled into the ditch, for Iwas afraid that both of you would hit me."
"Quite right, my lad, quite right. But how does it happen that you carrya rifle? The most of the Yankees are glad enough to get muskets, andhere you are traveling round the country with a rifle. I'm afraid yourstory won't do, my lad. We'll have to take you along with us, and letyou tell your story to the colonel."
Tom perceived that any further protest on his part would be useless,and, as the word to advance was at once given, he obediently took hisplace in the ranks and marched on with the men.
The heat was so intense that they were compelled to halt frequently forrests. A few of the men evidently were Hessians, and their highjack-boots, their heavy fur hats, as well as the short broadswords theycarried, in addition to the short guns or carbines which were slung overtheir shoulders, seemed sadly out of place under the burning he
at of thesummer day. Tom did not know how the British officers had protestedagainst the customs of their allies, so unsuitable in the country inwhich they were fighting; but the men from Hesse were obstinate, and,firmly believing that the equipment which had been good enough for themin the old country would certainly be good enough in the new, clung tothe uncomfortable garments and unwieldy arms, unmindful alike of thejeers of their comrades in arms and the danger they incurred by the useof them.
In the course of two hours the band arrived at a little camp in commandof a man whom the leader addressed as Colonel Simcoe. Tom was at oncesummoned by him and taken into the presence of the colonel, orlieutenant-colonel, as he then really was.
"What have you here?" inquired the colonel, glancing at Tom as he spoke.
"We picked this fellow out of a ditch back here. We had a little brushwith a band of Dickinson's men, but they didn't wait for us. We chasedthem a mile or two up the road; but the day was so warm, and as therebels took to the woods, we soon gave it up and came back. We foundthis fellow on our return. He claims he doesn't belong to the rebels;but as we found that he carried a rifle, we thought best to bring himinto camp with us. We didn't know but he might be able to give you someof the information you wanted just now."
"You did right, lieutenant. I'll talk with him later. Now tell me whatyou learned. Did you hear anything more about Washington? How are theroads and the bridges?"
"The rebels have been tearing up the bridges, and Dickinson has a goodmany of the militia scattered along in the woods. I rather suspect theyare planning to serve us as the countrymen served Lord Percy up atLexington."
"I fancy we shall be able to put a stop to that, though your report ismuch like that which I have found out myself. Did you hear anything moreof Washington?"
"I couldn't get a word out of anybody. I don't believe he's moved fromthe position he held yesterday, though."
For several minutes the men conversed, and when at last the youngerofficer departed, Colonel Simcoe turned to Tom and said, "Now, my lad,I'll listen to your story."
"I haven't any story," replied Tom. "I was coming through the woods backhere, and when I stepped out into the road I found myself right betweenthe two bands, and as I was afraid I'd be caught by the fire of both ofthem, I crawled into the ditch to be out of the way. That's why I'mcovered with this dirt," he added apologetically.
"You don't need any one to confirm your words as to that," said thecolonel, smiling slightly, as he spoke, at Tom's appearance. "Now what Iwant to know is who you are and what you were doing with a rifle? Fewpeople here carry rifles, I find."
Tom hesitated a moment, not knowing just what to say in reply to thequestion. The colonel was watching him intently, and the lad felt thathe must say something. "I live back here," he said at last. "I've livedin Old Monmouth all my life. I'd started out from home to go to--to--tosome of my friends, and, as I told you, I got caught between the lines."
"How about the rifle?"
"My father had the other guns and I had to take that. The last thing hetold me was to take a gun and scare the blackbirds and crows from theten-acre lot."
"Is your father a loyalist?"
"Yes."
"That's good; and now if you can answer my questions, perhaps I'll beinclined to let you go. You say you've lived here all your life. Do youknow all the roads and bridges? Could you find your way anywhere in thecounty?"
"Yes, sir; I think I could."
"Tell me about the bridges. Have many of them been torn up?"
Tom did not know, but he thought of his meeting with young LieutenantGordon that morning, and boldly answered, "Yes, sir."
"How does it happen that your good father and the other loyalists permitthat?"
"My father's not at home, and there are too many of the pa--of therebels."
"I thought you told me your father sent you out with your gun," said thecolonel quickly. "How is that? How could he send you if he wasn't athome?"
"He sent me before he left," replied Tom, his voice trembling in spiteof his efforts to control it.
"Do you know where Washington is?" inquired the colonel abruptly.
"I hear he's up by Hopewell. I don't know." Tom might have added that hewould be glad to learn, but his wish was not expressed.
"That's right. He _is_ at Hopewell. Is there any talk about his plans?Have you heard of any rumors among the rebels as to what he plans todo?"
"Yes, sir. I hear he is planning to fall on Clinton's baggage train."
"Sir Henry Clinton, you mean, I suppose," said the colonel sharply. "Doyou think you could find your way from here to Cranberry?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know every road?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, then, I shall expect you to go with a party to-night andshow them the way."
"But," protested Tom, "I thought you said I could go if I answered yourquestions."
"You'll have to stay now. Your father's a good loyalist, you say, andhe'll not object to his son's remaining here for a day or two andserving as a guide. I'll see that you have some supper and are ready tostart before it's dark."
Tom left the colonel's presence, and with a heavy heart turned to lookabout the little camp.
Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778 Page 13