Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

by John V. Lane

  CHAPTER XXII

  RODNEY'S SACRIFICE AND HIS MOTHER'S

  One midsummer day Rodney Allison walked along the dusty road. He didnot carry his head erect as usual but seemed to be pondering over someproblem.

  He was a "strapping," fine looking lad, almost a man grown, and inexperience already a man. He stopped before a little gate opening intoa pasture and gave three shrill whistles. Over the top of a ridge twopointed ears appeared, poised for an instant, and then their ownergalloped into view.

  "What a beauty you are, Nat," said the boy, as if talking to himself,stretching out his hand to stroke the silky nose that was thrust overthe fence.

  The two standing together formed a picture to afford delight so longas the eye shall admire grace, breeding and power. The boy's figurewas erect, his wavy hair hanging gracefully to his broad shoulders.His face, while not handsome, was clear cut, resolute and showed linesof character not usually graven in the face of one as young. His darkgray eyes always looked at one steadily. Now they were darker thanusual and had in them the shadow of trouble.

  "Nat, how would you like to change masters?"

  The colt nuzzled the boy's face and then his pockets, in one of whichhe found the nubbin of corn he sought.

  "You rascal, all you care about having is a good commissary. You won'tmiss me, will you? Oh, no! I'd thought we'd go to the war together. Wewould have something worth fighting for, a free country, where a manwouldn't need to have dukes for uncles in order to be of someconsequence in the world. We would show 'em, you and I, that horsesand boys raised in this country are as good as the best; but thatcan't be. You are too good a horse to drag the plow on this poorlittle farm. You shall have one of the greatest men in this great landfor a master, while I will stay away from the war and both of us maysave our precious skins and perhaps be British subjects in the end."

  Nat's purplish eyes seemed full of comprehension, as he mumbled thelad's hand with his lips.

  "Horses seem to know more of some things than they really do, and knowmore of some other things than they seem to; how's that for horsesense, Nathaniel Bacon Allison?"

  Nat blinked, but shed no tears. Rodney blinked and his eyes were wet.The boy opened the gate and the colt followed him to the stable, wherehe was saddled and ridden to Monticello.

  As Rodney left the manager of Mr. Jefferson's estate he said: "I onlyask that you say to Mr. Jefferson, I sell the colt with theunderstanding that I may buy him back if I ever get the money."

  "I'll do it, an' you won't need it in writin' so long as Mr. Jeffersonlives."

  What a long, dusty, gloomy road was that over which the boy walkedback to his home!

  "What has become of Nat?" his mother asked, a few days later. "Ihaven't seen him lately."

  "He was too valuable a horse for me to own and I sold him to Mr.Jefferson. I can have the privilege of buying him back," and Rodneyturned away, afraid to trust himself to say more.

  The crops that fall were successful and the neighbours told the boy hewould surely make a good farmer. He worked early and late and grewstrong; whereas his mother, watching him with sad eyes, becameweaker.

  When Mrs. Allison was absorbed in thought the old coloured woman wouldstand looking with anxious face at her mistress. One day she said,"Missus, yo' jes' done git well. Dat's no mo'n doin' what's right byMarse Rodney, ah reckon."

  Mrs. Allison looked up into the kindly old face of the coloured woman,and a wan smile was on her lips as she replied, "Mam, you are a womanof good sense, and, God willing, I will get well." From that day shebegan to improve.

  Angus being away, Rodney had little diversion.

  His chief pastime now was target practice with the rifle. The oldIndian had chosen wisely when he purchased the rifle, and the boybecame very proficient in marksmanship. One day when he had made afine shot he turned and found his mother and the two servants watchinghim.

  "I hadn't an idea you were such a fine shot, Rodney," said hismother.

  "Scolding Squaw hasn't an equal in the whole county of Albemarle,mother."

  "Lan' sakes, an' what heathen mought she be?" asked Mam.

  "She was once the rifle of a noted chief of the Wyandottes, and whenshe speaks a deadly silence follows," replied the boy, laughing.

  "Marse Rodney will be wantin' ter jine de riflemen, I specs," remarkedThello.

  Mam, noting her mistress' face, hastened to say, "Reckon de riflemendone froze up in Canada las' winter. Dey won't be rantin' down in ol'Virginny fer one right smart spell."

  That year, 1776, there were no steel rails laid nor copper wiresstrung to carry the news, yet it was surprising how quickly tidings ofvictory and defeat spread over the country.

  Charlottesville was a very small town out near the shadows of the BlueRidge mountains, yet its people, not many weeks after the eventsoccurred, had heard how Donald McDonald had led the Scotch Tories ofNorth Carolina against the rifles of the Whigs and how the riflesproved more powerful than the Scottish broadswords; then had come thejoyful news that Commodore Parker and his forty ships had sailed awayfrom Charleston, South Carolina, which they had come to capture asthough the doing of it were the pastime of a summer's holiday. Betweenthem and the town they had found a little island and on it a smallfort built of soft palmetto logs bedded in sand and defended by a fewdaring men under the gallant Moultrie. These brave fellows could shootcannon as straight as could the North Carolina Whigs their rifles.Later, even among the hamlets along the frontier, the cheers rang outwhen it was learned that Congress had finally approved the Declarationof Independence, and aid was now expected from France!

  Not all the news was encouraging. Washington had known that, unlessgranted men and supplies, he could not hold New York against theBritish. Congress had insisted that he make the attempt, but gave himno assistance. He had failed, and barely kept the greater part of theAmerican army out of British clutches. The king had succeeded inhiring Hessians, some twenty thousand of them, to fight England'sbattles in America, with the promise of all the loot they couldsecure. France was very slow in granting aid, uncertain as yet howmuch resistance America might be able to make. The attempt to captureQuebec had failed, and the Americans were chased out of Canada.Washington had been unable to keep an effective army together asCongress would provide only for short terms of enlistment, and littlemoney or supplies for the troops. Men who had shouted for freedom werenow despondent, and some of them were going over to the enemy, whichoccupied New York and most of New Jersey and had concluded the war wasabout ended.

  In September Morgan came back from Quebec, but under parole. He hadbeen offered great inducements to fight with England, but scorned themas an insult to his manhood. If he could be released from parole hewould do loyal service for his country. Arnold had fought desperatelyaround Lake Champlain with the remnants of the troops driven fromCanada, but the odds against him were too great. Washington, alone,was the nucleus around which the hopes of America centred, but hecould accomplish little except to hold positions between the Britishand Philadelphia.

  Winter came on and the situation grew worse. Congress becamefrightened and made ludicrous haste to vote all sorts of assistance toWashington, after it was too late for him to use it for striking aneffective blow.

  It was evident that Rodney brooded over the long series of failures,but he still stoutly insisted, "It's not Washington's fault, I know."

  When, just after New Year's, 1777, report came that Washington, withhis ragged troops, had crossed the Delaware amid the floating ice, andmarched almost barefooted to Trenton in a howling snowstorm, and therehad defeated the Hessians, Rodney fairly shouted in his joy, "I knewhe'd do it, I knew he'd do it!"

  About a month later, Angus came home. He was a sorry looking Angus,what with a severe wound, and his ragged regimentals, and his feetbound up in rags. But he was a very important Angus, withal, for hadhe not crossed the Delaware with Washington; had he not left bloodyfootprints on the snowy road to Trenton; had he not charged down KingStreet, swept by the n
ortheast gale and British lead, and driven thebrutal Hessians as chaff is swept before the wind? He was, to thevillage folk, the returned conqueror, and much they made of him, theAllisons with the others. He no longer envied Rodney mounted on Natriding over the country with all the importance of a specialmessenger, and it is to be hoped that Rodney did not envy him, nowthat conditions seemed reversed. To young Allison's credit be it saidthat, if in his heart lay a smouldering spark of envy, it did not showitself.

  When Angus was able to go about, he frequently visited the Allisonhome, and revelled in narrations of his experiences. He, like thecommon people generally, regarded Washington as an idol. He delightedin descriptions of the appearance of his beloved general at thecrossing of the Delaware; again at the battle of Princeton, whenWashington had ridden out directly between the lines of the Britishand the wavering Americans he sought to encourage, sitting like astatue on his big horse, while the bullets of friends and foes flewabout him, and then riding away unscathed, as though by a miracle.The lad's enthusiasm made it all seem very real, even when he toldhow, one winter morning, the general walked about among his men whilewearing a strip of red flannel tied about his throat because of acold, and picked up with one hand a piece of heavy baggage, that wouldhave burdened both arms of an ordinary man, and lightly tossed it ontop of a baggage wagon.

  "He had but twenty-four hundred men to capture Trenton, an' all theother generals who were to help him failed. I was right close to himwhen the messenger rode up to tell him Cadwalader couldn't git acrossthe river, an' I heard him say 'I am determined to cross the river andattack Trenton in the morning.' I tell ye thar was no fellers whoheard him but would hev follered him on their knees, bein' theycouldn't hev used their feet."

  "The British thought the war ended before they lost Trenton, I hear,"said Mrs. Allison, her eyes shining, for one of her ancestors hadridden with Nathaniel Bacon, the Virginian rebel, when there wasBritish tyranny in the Old Dominion.

  "No doubt of it; why, all of us in the army reckoned how the warcouldn't last much longer. We hadn't rations nor clothes; the men weregoin' home when their time was up an' wouldn't enlist again. We heardthat Cornwallis was goin' home to tell the king how he'd licked us,an' old Howe was gamblin' an' guzzlin' in New York, spendin' his prizemoney like water. Oh, they thought they had us licked for sure!Long's Washington lives they can't lick us nohow, though they've gotover thirty thousand men an' plenty o' money, an' we with neither. Butthe soldiers are 'lowin' as how France will help us. Benjamin Franklinis over there an' they say he has a way o' gittin' what he goesafter."

  "I believe it was Doctor Franklin's 'Poor Richard' who said, 'Godhelps those who help themselves.' We've got to rely on ourselves,"Mrs. Allison said, as if speaking to herself, but all the whilelooking at Rodney.

  He did not notice this, for he sat gazing into the fire, sayinglittle, though no word of Angus escaped him. Finally, looking up andaddressing his mother, he said, "Wasn't it Mr. Mason who said he didnot wish to survive the liberties of his country?"

  "I think so," she replied, adding, "but we say things in time ofexcitement which are pretty hard to live up to," and turned away.

  Rodney had secured quite profitable employment that winter. Hismother's health had improved, and the lad could hear the clatter ofher loom through the open window one warm morning in early March whena passing horseman brought the news that "Dan Morgan was having hardwork to raise a body of riflemen." He had been appointed a colonel theprevious fall, and, as soon as he was released from his parole, beganto enlist men to go to the assistance of Washington at Morristown.

  The man talked loudly, and the noise of the loom ceased while Mrs.Allison listened. After supper that evening she said, "I hear thatColonel Morgan, of whom you have told me so much, is enlisting men."

  "Yes, mother, and there is no finer man for a leader than he, unlessit is Washington."

  "I've thought, since Angus came home, that you were wishing you mightenter the service."

  Rodney looked up quickly. "Why, if I could get away I'd like to go,but I--my duty is at home."

  "I am well, now," she said, "and affairs are in such condition I thinkwe can care for them."

  "But--er--no, I ought not to."

  "My boy, you have my permission, indeed I'm not sure but it is yourduty to give your service, your young life perhaps, to the cause ofliberty."

  Rodney sprang up, his face aflame with eagerness. "Do you mean it,mother?"

  "Some one must fight our battles if we are to win. Your father is nothere to go to the front, as he would have done had he lived, and--andI feel sure he would like to have the house of Allison represented ina cause he had so much at heart, and I'm afraid I should make a poorsoldier, Rodney."

  "Mother, you are braver than any soldier who ever went to war!"

  And so it happened that the following Monday, dressed in the homespunof his mother's loom and carrying the rifle he had taken from thelodge of the Wyandotte chieftain, Rodney Allison left for Winchesterto join Morgan's command.