Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXXI

  AMONG THE PINES

  TOM'S surprise was still further increased when he recognized one of themen on the seat as Little Peter, and by his side a sergeant, who wasdriving. It was Little Peter's condition, however, which quickly drewall of Tom's attention, for the lad was carrying one arm in a sling,one of his eyes was discolored, and the marks of suffering were plainlyto be seen on his face.

  Tom quickly ran out into the road, and as his friend recognized him, ata word from him the horses stopped, and the two boys looked at eachother for a moment as if each was trying to understand how it was thatthey both were there.

  "What's the matter? Were you in the battle?" said Tom, who was the firstto speak.

  "No, that is, I wasn't in the battle by the Court-House. I met Fentonthree days ago up by the old mill, and these are a few tokens of hisregard which he left with me," said Little Peter, slightly moving hiswounded arm as he spoke.

  As Tom still looked blankly at him, the lad continued, "I suppose Fentonthought he left me dead, and it's likely I should have died if BarzillaGiberson and Jacob Vannote hadn't found me. They took me up and carriedme over to Benzeor's, though I didn't know anything about it at thetime. Sarah and her mother took such good care of me that I'm all rightnow, or at least I'm a good deal better."

  "You don't look as if you ought to be here," replied Tom. "You sayBarzilla and Jacob found you and took you over to Benzeor's? I don'tunderstand."

  "They're all right; I understand just how it is now."

  "What, Benzeor all right?"

  "No, Barzilla and Jacob. I know all about Benzeor, too," he added in alow voice.

  "Where is he?"

  "He hasn't been seen or heard from in four days. I don't think he'llcome home again very soon. Tom, Sarah wanted me to tell you, if I sawyou, that you were to come home just as soon as you could. I think shewants to explain something to you," he added, noting Tom's expression ofsurprise. "Since she's found out about Benzeor she feels all broken up,and wants you to come home."

  "Then she knows about Benzeor, does she?" inquired Tom thoughtfully.

  "Yes, and so do I. You'll go, won't you?"

  "I can't now; perhaps I will after a while," and Tom went on to explainthe circumstances which seemed to make his return to Benzeor'simpossible for a time.

  "But how does it happen that you are here so early in the morning, andwith Benzeor's team? You're almost the last person I expected to see."

  "Oh, the way of it is like this. Barzilla and Jacob and some of theWhigs have been on the track of Fenton for several days now. We've gotword that he's down in the pines, about two miles below Blue Ball.Several parties are out after him, for they've made up their minds torid Old Monmouth of the outlaw, if such a thing can be done. Well,Barzilla came up to Benzeor's yesterday, and when he found I was allright again, he suggested that Ted and I report the matter to some ofthe officers in the American army, and get a detachment to go downthere, so that's what we've done, you see."

  "No, I don't see," replied Tom, looking about for the detachment ofsoldiers of which Little Peter had spoken. "Ted? Ted who?"

  "Ted Wilson, if you please," said that worthy, suddenly rising frombeneath the straw with which the wagon-box was apparently filled. "I'mthe Ted what Little Peter means. Yes, sir, I'm on the lookout for thosefellows that go around hangin' Sallies. She's my wife, ye know."

  Startled as Tom was by the unexpected appearance of the mighty Ted, henevertheless was compelled to laugh, as the huge man stood before himstriving to shake himself free from the bits of straw which covered hisface, and shaking his fist at imaginary Fentons, who went about engagedin the detestable occupation of "hanging Sallies."

  "We saw General Lee yesterday, but he had so much trouble of his ownthat he couldn't listen much to ours," explained Little Peter, "but hemanaged to give us a sergeant and two men. The sergeant here is driving,and the men are with Ted under the straw."

  Tom's first thought was to inquire concerning the trouble of GeneralLee, which Little Peter referred to, but Ted interrupted his question bydeclaring, "Yes, sir, I've got two companions in my misery, cooped uphere under the straw. I don't see why they don't let us sit up straightlike men; but no, they must cover us all over with straw, and then puttwo or three barrels in the wagon-box too. 'Tisn't my way o' doin'things, for I'd take Jesh and go straight down to the pines and hangFenton on the first tree I found. That's the way I'd do it. But Isuppose I'll have to obey orders."

  "That's what you will," said the sergeant, who had been manifestingsigns of impatience for several minutes. "We mustn't stand here in theroad talking all day. Lie down, Ted, and we'll cover you up again."

  Reluctantly the huge man consented, and was soon hidden from sight bythe straw which was thrown over him. The barrels were again arranged topresent the appearance of an ordinary load, and then the sergeant,picking up the reins which were lying loose in his hands, spoke to thehorses and started down the road.

  Little Peter turned and watched Tom, who had remained by the roadside,gazing eagerly after the departing wagon, and when at last he could seehim no longer, once more gave all his thought to the dangerousexpedition on which he had started with his companions.

  Benzeor's horses were in much better condition than those of hisneighbors, for reasons that are apparent now to all our readers, andthey maintained so steady a pace that by noontime the party had enteredwithin the borders of the pines.

  The road here became rough and heavy, and the progress, as aconsequence, was correspondingly slow. The tall stately trees, thewhisperings of the wind, the silence of the great forest, and above all,the knowledge that they had entered upon the most dangerous portion oftheir journey, made all the men in the wagon anxious and watchful. Not aword was spoken now, even Ted having ceased to complain of his narrowquarters, and having no remarks to make concerning the outlaws, whosedisposition led them to go about the country attacking defenseless menand "hanging Sallies."

  Every tree might conceal an enemy, and at any moment the discharge of agun might indicate that their presence had been discovered. Thehabitations of men had been left behind them soon after they had enteredthe sombre forests, and the few rude little shanties near the border,occupied by negroes and people whose reputation in Old Monmouth was notof the best, had all been passed. The vegetation was scanty, and longbarren stretches of sand could be seen on every side. The sunlight onlypenetrated the gloom in places, and its presence served to increase thedark and sombre appearance of the unbroken forest.

  Little Peter maintained a careful watch upon one side as they advanced,and the sergeant watched the other, but they seldom spoke now, and thenonly in whispers. The full sense of the danger of entering a region,known to be used by the pine robbers as their headquarters, wasappreciated as it had not been when they started. They had no means ofknowing how many men Fenton might have with him, and hard as the outlawswere against the defenseless people of Old Monmouth, doubtless theywould display the honor which it is said thieves maintain toward oneanother, and if others should be within hailing distance when Fenton wasattacked they would all quickly rally to his assistance.

  And the resistance which Fenton himself would be likely to make was notforgotten. The vision of him, as he suddenly appeared to Little Peter onthat lonely road to the old mill a few days previous to this time, cameup before the lad now. His big and burly frame, his bared and powerfularms, the brutal and merciless expression upon his evil face, were allseen again, and the lad shuddered as he recalled his experiences withhim.

  "What's wrong?" whispered the sergeant quickly. "See anything?"

  "Not yet."

  Little Peter had not been in the region since the breaking out of thewar, although before that time he and Tom had made frequent visitsthere. Still, he recognized the locality, and knew the place to whichBarzilla had reported that Fenton had gone. It was a rude log house,built of the pine-trees, and could not be more than two miles in advanceof them.

  The hors
es were toiling now as they dragged the heavy wagon through thedeep sand. Fish-hawks had their nests in the tops of the lofty trees,and occasionally Peter obtained a glimpse of the great birds as theysailed in the air far above him. A brown rabbit now and then came forthfrom his burrow, and after eying the intruders a moment, would gobounding away into the thickets, or else dart swiftly back into hisunderground home. The note of a wood-thrush now and again broke in uponthe stillness with its clear, sweet whistle, and the watchful men wouldglance quickly about them, almost thinking that the sound was the callof the pine robbers to one another.

  Little Peter's fear and the pain he was suffering from his recentencounter with Fenton made his face pale, and as the sergeant againturned to him and marked his appearance, he said, "'T was too bad, mylad, that you had to come."

  "I knew the way. I had to come and show you."

  "Yes, yes. I know it, but it's hard, for all that."

  "We're almost there now. The place can't be more than a quarter of amile farther on."

  The sergeant did not reply, but turned quickly at the words, and peeredkeenly into the forest before him. No one could be seen, and the talltrees guarded well their secret. The toiling horses were pullingsteadily on their load, and they, at least, felt no alarm; but LittlePeter and his companion were anxious now, and were keeping their eyessteadily fixed upon the road before them.

  "There! That's the place!" whispered the lad excitedly, as he obtained aglimpse of a little clearing not far in advance of them.

  The sergeant did not reply, but he tightened his grasp upon the reins,and glanced down at the gun which he had placed within easy reach.Little Peter's excitement had become intense, and he was peering eagerlyahead of him, while his breathing was quick and hard. They would soonknow what the result of the expedition was to be.

  The heavy wagon came out into the clearing, and drew near to the onesmall house, which was standing within it. The house was of logs, andcorresponded exactly to the description which Barzilla had given of it.As yet, no human being had been seen, and the sergeant was just about todeclare that the place was not inhabited when the door was suddenlyopened and a man stepped forth to view. Evidently he had heard thesounds of the approaching wagon, and had come out to investigate.

  He was a tall, broad-shouldered, powerful-appearing man. He was clad ina pair of rough trousers and high boots, which looked as if they mighthave belonged to some Hessian dragoon at one time, and the red flannelshirt which partially covered his chest could not entirely conceal thegreat bunches of muscle there. In one hand he grasped a pistol, and theexpression upon his face might well have caused a man with a muchstouter heart than Little Peter had to tremble.

  The sergeant glanced inquiringly at the lad by his side, and LittlePeter nodded his head in reply to the unspoken question. The man wasFenton himself,--the one who had robbed the widows and the fatherless,had made the midnight attacks upon the defenseless people of OldMonmouth, had hanged trembling women from the limbs of trees, andtortured his helpless victims into revealing the places where theirscanty savings had been concealed. He had been the leader of bands asdesperate and wicked as himself, and the suffering and woe which thegood people of the surrounding region had experienced at his hands cannever be told. And now the man himself stood waiting for the wagon, inwhich were Little Peter, himself a victim of the pine robbers' cruelty,and his companions, to approach.

  "Hold on!" called Fenton. "You're movin' too fast. What ye doin' here?"

  The sergeant stopped his horses, and as Fenton approached and stood nearthe wheel, he said, "We've come down here to look for a man we want tofind."

  "I reckon I'll do as well as any other. Look at me! Ye're not goin' anyfarther, ye might as well understand that now as any time. Got a bottlewith ye?"

  The sergeant drew forth a bottle of brandy and handed it to the outlaw.Fenton took it, and raised one foot upon the hub of the wheel. As helifted the bottle to his lips, his eyes fell upon Little Peter, who hadbeen endeavoring to conceal himself behind his companion.

  Instantly recognizing the lad, he shouted, "You here? You? I thought Ileft ye dead up by the mill the other day! You rascal! One whippingwasn't enough, was it? I'll give ye what ye deserve now!"

  Fenton reached back with one hand to grasp the pistol he had thrust intohis pocket when he had taken the bottle. Quickly the sergeant kicked thefoot of Ted Wilson under the straw, and instantly the men arose, andbefore Fenton could act, had brought their guns to their shoulders andthe reports rang out together.

  The pine robber pitched heavily forward, and lay dead upon the sand. Oh,it was horrible, awful! A sensation of sickness, of faintness, sweptover Little Peter as he looked down upon the face of the dead outlaw.

  "What's that? What's that?" said Ted quickly.

  It was the sound of a gun not far away. It might be the answer of otherbands of pine robbers to the volley which had just been fired; andhurriedly throwing the body of Fenton into the wagon, the sergeantturned his horses about and started swiftly back up the road.

  CHAPTER XXXII

  CONCLUSION

  IN spite of the heavy sand the horses were driven swiftly, until theirheaving sides and dripping flanks compelled their driver to give them amuch-needed rest. Ted Wilson and one of the soldiers then leaped lightlyto the ground and ran into the woods on either side of the road toascertain whether they were pursued or not.

  As the silence of the great forest was unbroken they speedily returned,and the flight was resumed. No one was concealed beneath the straw inthe wagon-box now, and every one stood waiting and ready to share in thedefense which at any moment might become necessary.

  On past the tall pine-trees, on through the heavy sandy road, rushed thereturning party, and at last, when they obtained a glimpse of the opencountry, they breathed a sigh of relief as they realized that the dangerof immediate pursuit was gone. It was not until nearly a year afterthis time that they learned that the gun they had heard had beendischarged by De Bow, the desperate leader of another band of outlaws asevil in every way as those whom the detested Fenton had himself led.

  It was near the close of the day when the party, of which Little Peterwas a member, drove up to Monmouth Court-House. Carelessly, almostbrutally, the sergeant and one of his companions seized the body of thedead outlaw, and flinging it from the wagon into one of the trenches thesoldiers had made, shouted, "Here's a cordial for your tories and woodrobbers!"

  Little Peter had no share in the rejoicing which followed when it wasknown that the pine robber was no more. It was true, he knew Fenton hadrichly deserved his fate, and that no more would the defenseless peopleof Old Monmouth suffer from the evil deeds of his marauding band. He,too, had known something of Fenton's wickedness, for he was motherless,homeless, and almost fatherless because of him, and his own body formany days bore the traces of his meeting with him on his return from themill; but in spite of all that, his heart was sick whenever he thoughtof the dead face he had seen looking up at him from the wagon-box, andthe brutal rejoicings of the men who had shot him near his abode amongthe pines.

  On the following day Tom Coward returned to Benzeor's house for a briefvisit, reporting a very decided improvement in the condition of youngLieutenant Gordon. A long interview between Tom and Sarah followed, andas the troubled girl explained to the lad what she had learnedconcerning the evil deeds of her own father, and begged him to returnand aid her in caring for the family in the presence of such dangers andperplexities, Tom could not find it in his heart to refuse. The kindnessbestowed upon him in the home, and the obligations to repay as best hecould the care he himself had received there, were too strong to beignored, and greatly to the joy of Sarah and her mother he yielded totheir urgent pleas. He had not yet enlisted in the army, and so was freeto decide the question for himself.

  He was aided in making the decision by the fact that Little Peter wasalso to remain. His own home had been destroyed, and as there was noplace to which he could take his little brothers and sisters,
there wasevery reason why he should accept the invitation and increase thedefenses of the household.

  It was not considered probable that Benzeor would return, nor was itknown what had become of the man, who had gradually and yet steadilybeen drawn into the power of the pine robbers, until at last he wasconsidered by them all as one of themselves, and indeed he was. Neitherthe boys nor Sarah knew then whither he had gone. Tom thought he mighthave been killed in the battle, and it was not until more than a yearhad passed that word came from the missing Benzeor; but where he hadbeen and what he had been doing do not belong to this story.

  On the day following the great battle of Monmouth, General Lee had, to acertain extent, recovered from his chagrin at the public rebuke GeneralWashington had administered to him, and in his arrogance, and as arelief to his feeling of mortification, he wrote a childish letter tothe commander, demanding an apology for the words he had spoken in thepresence of the soldiers.

  Washington's reply to Lee's letter was as follows:--

  "SIR,--I received your letter, expressed, as I conceive, in terms highlyimproper. I am not conscious of making use of any very singularexpressions, at the time of meeting you, as you intimate. What Irecollect to have said was dictated by duty and warranted by theoccasion. As soon as circumstances will permit, you shall have anopportunity of justifying yourself to the army, to Congress, to America,and to the world in general; or of convincing them that you were guiltyof a breach of orders, and of misbehavior before the enemy on the 28thinstant, in not attacking them as you had been directed, and in makingan unnecessary, disorderly, and shameful retreat."

  Lee's reply to this letter, as impudent as it was childish, certainlydid not tend to elevate him in the estimation of the men of his owntime, or of ours. His letter was as follows: "You cannot afford megreater pleasure than in giving me the opportunity of showing to Americathe sufficiency of her respective servants. I trust that temporary powerof office, and the tinsel dignity attending it, will not be able, by allthe mists they can raise, to obfuscate the bright rays of truth."

  Washington's reply to this insulting letter was to arrest Lee. Thetraitor was at once court-martialed and charged with disobedience oforders, misbehavior on the field, making a disgraceful retreat, and alsowith gross disrespect to his commander-in-chief. The trial lasted morethan a month, and the result was that Lee was suspended for the term ofone year. If strict justice had been measured out to the man, doubtlesshe would not have escaped with so light a sentence; but Washington wasmerciful, and although Lee did not appreciate the kindness shown him, heowed his life to the man whose heart and mind were so much greater thanhis own.

  General Washington did not long delay in Old Monmouth after the battle.The British army had gained New York, and so the American commandermoved to the Hudson, and on the 20th of July went into camp at WhitePlains, having left some of the militia to look well to the needs of thecountry in which the great battle had been fought.

  And Monmouth was a great battle. Not only did the men struggle with adetermination such as has been seldom displayed, but the results of theengagement itself were also marked and strong. While the two armies,after Washington had gone to the Hudson and Clinton to New York,occupied much the same relative positions as in the latter part of '76,the motives which controlled each were exactly reversed. The Americansnow became the aggressors, and the British were compelled to defendthemselves.

  All this was intensified by the action of France. Benjamin Franklin hadsucceeded in arranging a treaty between that land and ours. France wasto send a fleet of sixteen war vessels under D'Estaing to our shores,and also an army of four thousand men. It was the coming of this fleetwhich, as we know, caused the British to depart from Philadelphia andhasten to the defense of New York, which place they thought would befirst attacked. The march of the redcoats and Hessians across New Jerseygave Washington an opportunity to pursue them, and while he failed inaccomplishing all that he hoped, and much that he might have done had itnot been for the treacherous actions of Lee, still he virtually had wona victory. He compelled the British to retreat with great losses, hestrengthened his own position, he silenced his enemies in Congress, and,above all, he aroused a new feeling of hope and determination in thehearts of the struggling Americans.

  The British very promptly declared war against France, and then coollyinvited the Americans to join them, promising all that the colonists hadasked three years before this time. The offer had come too late,however, for now the colonies had become States, and independence hadbeen declared, and independence the new nation would have. So the warwas continued, but the part which the new allies took and the furtherstruggles of the determined Americans belong to another story.

  It only remains to refer briefly to the experiences of our friends,whose fortunes we have followed in the course of this book.

  Lieutenant Gordon at last recovered from his wound. Tom Coward dividedhis time between caring for his friend and the labor on Benzeor's farm.In the former task he was aided by Friend Nathan Brown until such a timeas the young lieutenant could be removed to his own home.

  Friend Nathan had been unable to remain away from the battle ofMonmouth, and while both his feelings and professions had prevented himfrom entering into the struggle, still his interest had been so intensethat he had started from his home to the scene of the struggle. There hemet Tom, and the part he then took in caring for the wounded youngofficer we already know.

  Neither Tom nor Little Peter was idle. There was much work to be done onboth farms, and the lads aided each other. The crop on the ten-acre lotwas successfully grown and harvested, and the immediate problem of foodin Benzeor's household was in a measure solved.

  Indian John was never seen by our boys again. Whether he had been slainby the British or the pine robbers, or had departed from the homes ofhis ancestors for a region into which the redcoats and buffcoats did notenter, was never known. Both Tom and Little Peter were inclined to thelatter conclusion, however, and their opinion was strengthened by thefact that "Charlie" Moluss, and his wife Bathsheba, and her sister"Suke" were never seen or heard from again.

  Several times the boys made their way into Indian John's cave by thebrook, but they never discovered any signs of their friend. He hadforever disappeared, but his stories concerning the origin of the Jerseymosquitoes, his interpretations of the roar of the ocean and the callsof the sea-birds, and above all the assistance he had rendered LittlePeter in the trying days of '78 were never forgotten.

  Weeks had passed before Little Peter positively learned that Benzeor'sstatement concerning his father had been correct, but at last hereceived definite information that he was a prisoner in New York. Whatthat meant to the troubled lad, few of us to-day can understand. Thesufferings on board the prison-ships and in the prison-houses of NewYork almost baffle description; but we may be sure of one thing, andthat is that Little Peter did not sit idly down, nor rest content toleave his father where he was without making some efforts in his behalf.But that, too, belongs to another record.

  Barzilla Giberson and Jacob Vannote after the death of Fenton did notfind it necessary to play a double part. They believed that theirefforts to run the pine robbers to cover had been successful, and thatnow they could boldly and openly take their stand on the side of thepatriots. And take that stand they did, and their services in the NewJersey militia are known in all the region of Old Monmouth.

  Ted Wilson, with Jeshurun "waxen fatter" and consequently still moreinclined to kick, returned to his home after the death of Fenton. Hefound Sallie and the babies safe at the Dennises, but all of the mightyTed's former indifference as to his rulers had departed. The taste ofthe struggle he had had seemed only to whet his appetite for more, andnot many days had passed before Ted and Jeshurun once more started forthin quest of service and adventure.

  Sarah Osburn labored faithfully and cheerfully for the welfare of herenlarged household, and the boys did not fail to appreciate herkindness. Tom thought he understood the motive which promp
ted much ofher care for Little Peter's younger brothers and sisters, but throughoutthe long absence of Benzeor he never directly or indirectly referred toit.

  There was a brief lull in the outrages and attacks of the pine robbersafter the death of Fenton, but it was very brief. Stephen Burke (orStephen Emmons as he was sometimes called), Stephen West, EzekielWilliams, Jonathan West, Richard Bird, Davenport, De Bow, and otherswere yet living, and as each was the leader of a band as desperate ashimself, and as all were as reckless and brave as Fenton had been, in abrief time the suffering people of Old Monmouth found that theirtroubles were by no means ended.

  Redcoat and buffcoat were again to contend within their borders,salt-works and houses were to be burned, gunboats were to anchor off hershore and their crews were to engage in conflicts with the patriots;whigs and tories were not yet reconciled, the pine robbers were not yetsubdued. Five long and terrible years of the struggle of the Revolutionwere yet to come, and the sands of Old Monmouth were again and again tobe dyed by the blood of fallen men.

  The waves which came creeping, crawling up the long sandy shore, thetall pine-trees whose tops whispered together as they bent beneath thesummer winds and winter storms, the fertile plains and noble forests ofoak and chestnut, were unchanged; but the struggling men and women ofOld Monmouth were yet to endure the bitter hardships and fiercecontests, which the closing days of the Revolution brought to them ingreater numbers than to almost any other people of our land.

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's Notes:

  Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

  Page 260, "Webberley" changed to "Webberly" (And Webberly had taught)

  Page 404, "did't" changed to "didn't" (didn't know anything)