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

by John V. Lane

  CHAPTER XXIII

  IN THE THICK OF IT

  "Can ye shoot straight an' often, travel light, starve an' yet fighton an empty stomach?"

  "I've had some experience at that sort of thing, Colonel Morgan, andthink I can be of service in your command."

  "Where have I seen you? Yer face looks familiar. I have it, your nameis Allison an' you were the little feller as showed me the way to therear of the redskins the day they ambushed Wood out in the Ohiocountry. Want ye, I reckon I do! I want five hundred like ye."

  And thus it was that Rodney found welcome when he presented himself toMorgan at Winchester, and the welcome was so hearty that it helped putthe boy on friendly footing with his fellows at the start.

  The march to Morristown was not very pleasant owing to the badcondition of the roads. On the way recruits joined them so that on thefirst of April, when they reached Washington's headquarters, theynumbered about one hundred and eighty men, considerably less than thefive hundred wanted.

  One of the recruits who joined them on the march was a young man whosereception by Morgan attracted general attention, it was so cordial.He was a straight, sinewy fellow with shrewd, kindly gray eyes and"sandy" hair. He was clad like a frontiersman and the moment thecolonel saw him he exclaimed, "By all that's good an' glorious, Zeb,I've seen ye in my dreams followin' me up the ladder at the barrier,but I never expected to see ye in the flesh again. Where's yerFidus--what's his name, that Lovell boy?"[1]

  "I left him in Boston after the evacuation, an' haven't heard from himsince. How are you?"

  "Never so well in my life. Prison fare up in old Quebec agreed withme, I reckon. Boys," he said, turning to a knot of his men who hadgathered about, "this man Zeb, an' a Boston boy, brought up the rearon that march to Quebec. It was the hardest thing I ever did when Idetailed 'em for the duty. How they got through alive I never couldunderstand. And young Allison, here, is a chap as was with me fightin'Indians out in the Ohio country. I wish all the boys who've marchedwith me could fall into the ranks to-day; we'd keep right on to NewYork an' capture Howe, bag an' baggage."

  "When we take New York," laughed Zeb, "we'll need more men thanCongress ever has got together, I'm thinkin'. I was there whenWashington tried to hold it, because Congress an' the country expectedhim to do the impossible. But, Colonel, I will say as how if you ledthe way, thar'd not be one of 'em, as ever marched with Morgan, whowouldn't be at yer back."

  "Good! I like that kind of talk. Meanwhile we'll get the kinks out ofour legs marching to Morristown."

  "So you are an Injun fighter," remarked Zeb to Rodney, as they fellinto line side by side.

  "Scarcely that," replied Rodney, flushing with pleasure as he thoughtof the introduction by his colonel. "I've been made prisoner by them,lived with them for a time and ran away from 'em, doing a littlefighting by the way."

  "Anyhow, the colonel appears to like ye, an' that's a recommendationnot to be sneezed at."

  "I hope I can keep his good will. I never saw a man whose men weremore loyal."

  "He's a lion in a fight, asks no man to go whar he won't go himself.And he knows what the boys are thinkin' about, an' just how to manage'em."

  "I was told that on the march to the Scioto one of his men disobeyedorders, in fact had been disgruntled for some time, and that Morganwalked up to him and said, 'Come with me a minute.' They went into thewoods together and, when they came back, the man had a black eye andlooked as though he'd stolen a sheep; but ever after he didn't have tobe told twice to do a thing."

  Zeb laughed, saying, "That sort of treatment was what that kind of mancould understand. But Morgan never allowed one of his men to beflogged."

  "He was terribly flogged once himself."

  "Yes, but he was too much of a man for that to break him, though theordinary man who's been whipped seems to lose his self respect and hiscourage, an' Morgan won't allow it in his command."

  By the time Morgan's men arrived at Morristown, Zeb and Rodney werethe best of friends, and the latter had heard the story of theexpedition to Quebec,[2] of Donald Lovell and what a fine lad he was,until he hoped that Zeb's wish, that they meet him, might be granted.

  It was a very small army which Morgan found at Morristown. Of thesixteen regiments Congress had requested the colonies to furnish(Congress could do little but request), not over six hundred men hadarrived. The next two months were passed in recruiting the army andgetting it into condition, a very trying time to the many impatientspirits in Morgan's command, and doubtless very trying also to theircommander, who always chafed under any sort of inaction. What withtarget practice and drilling, all were kept out of mischief, however,and Rodney found that as a marksman he could "hold his own" with thebest.

  Zeb, who had become his daily companion, received in May a letter fromhis old friend, Donald Lovell, who wrote that he had fully recoveredfrom a wound he had received in the battle on Long Island the yearbefore, and hoped soon to get back into the service.

  A corps, called Morgan's Rangers, was made up of men picked from thevarious regiments, five hundred in all. There were, among them,Virginians, Pennsylvania "Dutchmen," men from the Carolinas, men fromthe frontier and Yankees. Skill in the use of the rifle was anecessary qualification for membership. They were a fine lot of menfor the perilous duties to which they were to be assigned.

  The corps was divided into eight companies, the captains of whichwere: Cobel, Posey, Knox, Long, Swearingen, Parr, Boone, andHenderson, all men selected by Morgan.

  The organization of this corps was completed on June 13th, on whichday it was ordered by Washington to watch for the approach of Britishscouting parties, for it was learned that Howe was to begin activeoperations. The American headquarters had now been changed toMiddlebrook. That very day two divisions of the British forces, oneunder Cornwallis and the other under DeHeister, set out from NewBrunswick for the purpose of engaging Washington, confident that, witha little more fighting, they would crush the revolution.

  The Rangers had their first glimpse of the British under Cornwalliswhen the latter reached Somerset Court House, and, for several days,there was sharp skirmishing with scouting parties.

  Rodney and Zeb were stationed one afternoon on one of the roads aspickets, when a company of the British were discovered approaching.The pickets' orders were to fire and fall back on the main body,unless it should be thought possible, in case of a small number of theenemy, to report their presence and secure force enough to cut themoff. This was the view taken both by Zeb and his companion, so theyran back to report.

  A squad of the Rangers was hurried forward to meet the enemy, withinstructions to get between them and their main army, and make themprisoners. Before this could be accomplished the British came uponthem. The enemy outnumbered the Rangers two to one, yet the latterwould have charged them but for orders to halt and fire. So quicklywas the order obeyed that the crack of their rifles rang out togetherwith the British officer's command to fire. The British fired blindlyinto the smoke, whereas the riflemen had taken quick, accurate aim.But one among the Rangers was hit, and that was Rodney, he receiving aslight flesh wound in the left arm.

  "I thought a bee had stung me," he said, later, when Zeb discoveredthe blood on his friend's sleeve.

  The enemy, being uncertain as to the number of the Rangers, fell backin good order, carrying their dead with them. They were pursued by theRangers until a larger body met them, when the Americans retreated.

  Skirmishes like this were of daily occurrence, and Cornwallis, findingthat Washington was not disposed to accommodate him by rashly engagingin battle under disadvantageous conditions, retreated to NewBrunswick, with the Rangers dogging his flanks.

  Quite a number of deserters were picked up. Benjamin Franklin haddevised a shrewd scheme for encouraging desertions. Learning the brandof tobacco specially liked by the Hessians, he had offers concealed inpackages of this tobacco, which was distributed where the Hessianswould get them. These hired troops had no love for the cause for whichth
ey were fighting, and many of them had little for the tyranny withwhich they were treated when at home in Germany. When they read theseoffers, printed in German, of money and land, they were sorely temptedto change masters, especially if they did not happen to be of thosewho loved fighting for the privilege it gave them to loot and ravage.

  How the country people, all the Americans, indeed, except the Tories,despised and dreaded the Hessian! In fact he was no more brutal thanmany of the British, but he was trained to loot and thus was held indisrepute. On several occasions he had bayoneted the American soldierafter the latter had surrendered.

  "Why didn't our men serve 'em a like turn at Trenton?" was a questionsome had asked.

  Zeb well expressed the matter once when the subject was beingdiscussed around the camp-fire.

  "I reckon that job at Trenton was most complete. Thar's nothing aboutit to be ashamed of, an' everything to be proud of. If we'd butcheredthe pig-stickers when they were whinin' on their knees it wouldn't hevlooked well in history."

  "There comes a detachment of 'em now!" exclaimed Rodney, thefollowing morning. He and Zeb were doing picket duty. The latter gavethe call, and several Rangers ran up. A half mile down the road theHessians came marching on in close order till they arrived at somefarm buildings when they were seen to break ranks.

  "Let 'em have it!" cried Zeb, bringing his long rifle to his shoulder.Then, loading as he ran, he called, "Come on, boys, let's get tocloser range."

  Other Rangers, hearing the firing, came running after them. In doingthis they not only obeyed orders, but most of them gratified their owndesire to get into a skirmish with the enemy at every opportunity.

  Soon the bullets were singing anything but a cheerful song about theears of the Hessians, who began to reform their ranks and returned thefire. After several of them had fallen in their tracks, the remainderretreated, bearing off their dead and wounded, pursued by the Rangersclear to the enemy's lines, when they, too, were compelled byoverwhelming numbers to retreat.

  As they passed the farm on the way back, "Do-as-much Bunster," aPennsylvania Dutchman, exclaimed, "Dey vas not alretty till Christmasfor roast pig to vait, I tink."

  "Reckon your thinker is workin' this mornin'," was Zeb's reply as heturned aside to look over into a pen beside the road where a finelitter of white pigs lay cuddled about the old sow.

  "You fellers hev earned one o' them beauties," said the farmer,coming out of his barn and proceeding to slaughter one of theinnocents without evident compunction.

  "Do as much for you zumtime," said Bunster, whereat all laughed. Thatwas what the Dutchman always said when any one did him a favour. Hewas as good as his word, too, which not only gave him his nickname butmade him one of the most popular men in his company.

  He was both fat and jolly, as Dutchmen should be, but not always are.His blue eyes twinkled with good humour and shrewdness, and hiseagerness showed that he was fond of roast pig.

  How good it tasted though cooked, as it had to be, under unfavourableconditions over a camp-fire, and without proper utensils. There was,however, a look of contentment on the faces of those who partook ofthe feast that afternoon, and sat around on the warm ground lickingtheir fingers.

  "Let's see," said Zeb, "Bunster and I and Rodney are off dutyto-night."

  "Yah, and I tink I zum sleep get."

  "One of those Hesse-Cassel ruffians swaps even for one good American,and there's a lot of our boys rottin' in the prison hulks in New Yorkharbour to-night."

  "Which is one way of saying we should capture a few Hessians for apastime; hey, Do-as-much Bunster?" and Rodney thrust a forefinger intoBunster's fat ribs. The Dutchman squealed and leaped to his feet, forhe was so ticklish that one, wishing to see him squirm, only had topoint a finger at him.

  "That farmer is certain sure a good one, though he is too lazy to takehis pigs in out of danger. I hate to see him lose 'em. Besides he hasa big rick o' hay right nigh that pig pen an' it looked like a goodplace to sleep. What d'ye say, boys, if we tote ourselves down tharthis evenin'?"

  "Zum place to sleep, yah?"

  "I'm not sleepy yet, but I am ready to go," replied Rodney, so theyset out.

  They crossed the fields, some of which were new mown and fragrant. Thesun was setting after a hot day. The swallows skimmed over the field.

  "Swallers flyin' low, sign o' rain," said Zeb.

  "Needn't lay it on the swallows when the clouds are piling up as theyare this evening. We'll want a roof to the hay rick before morning, Ithink," was Rodney's reply.

  They found the farmer doing his chores. His smile was a trifleapprehensive as he said, "That pig tasted so good ye come back fermore?"

  "We be no hogs. We reckoned as how the fellers as didn't git roast pigmight come back and try it this evenin'."

  "Hope ye don't intend fightin' round here. My wife Nancy is dretfulnervous."

  "My kind and tremulous friend, do ye want the pig-stickers ter git yerpigs? We 'lowed as how we might stay here an' save yer next winter'spork. 'Sposin' you explain it to Nancy. We'll not allow any one tohurt her, if we can help it."

  This seemed to satisfy the farmer; but he took fresh alarm when Zebwent along to a two-wheeled ox-cart, piled high with hay and backedagainst the pen. As Zeb raised the tongue, and told Bunster to put astick under it, the farmer called excitedly, "Look out! Ye'll tip itinto the pig pen; that load is too heavy behind, anyhow."

  "Hay mought be good fer some kind o' hogs," which enigmatic remark byZeb called forth no response from the farmer, who bade them good nightand went into the house.

  "I'll stand guard the first part or we'll draw lots, as you wish,"said Rodney.

  It was decided to draw lots, but Rodney, drawing the shortest straw,had his wish to stand guard the first part of the night for, thoughtired, he was not sleepy.

  His companions threw themselves down on the hay at the foot of therick and soon, by their regular breathing, he knew they slept. Sleepwas a luxury with the Rangers in those days of continuous scout duty.Rodney's nerves were high strung and no sound escaped him. He heardthe rustle of a toad in the grass at his feet. An occasional mosquitohummed about his ears. His mind wandered away to that little Indianvillage he had known. In his imagination he could hear the crooningsong of the squaws about the camp-fires, the shrill cries of thewhip-poor-will. He thought of the old Indian chief, whose savagehands had so often grasped the rifle the boy now held. Had Ahneotalived he doubtless would be encouraging the red men in aid of theBritish, and would not hesitate to torture women and children as wellas men. How he hated the whites!

  Hark! What was that sound? Surely the clink of the iron shoe of ahorse on a stone in the road!

  The boy waked his sleeping companions. They seized their rifles andall went nearer the road.

  Out of the darkness misshapen objects could just be discerned, and theguttural voices of several Hessians could be heard. Then a lightglimmered as one of the approaching party drew an old horn lanternfrom under his cloak. Two others, by aid of the light, clambered intothe pen, leaving outside the one with the lantern and the fourthholding the horse.

  The next moment a pig squealed. The vandals were sticking them withtheir bayonets.

  "Follow me," whispered Zeb, running forward and tilting the carttongue in the air, dumping the load of hay into the pen, and buryinghuman and other hogs in the mire underneath.

  "Surrender!" Zeb cried, thrusting the muzzle of his rifle under thenose of the fellow holding the lantern, while Rodney and Bunsterdisarmed the Hessian with the horse. Then Zeb quickly tied their handsbehind their backs, and, telling Rodney to guard them and shoot themdown if they moved hand or foot, he and Bunster turned theirattention to the commotion in the pig pen.

  From under the hay there issued grunts and squeals and German oaths.Sorry looking hirelings were those two Hessians when they crawled outinto the light. Wisps of hay clung to their well greased pigtailqueues and their hated uniforms, blue coats and yellow waistcoats,were daubed with muck.

&nb
sp; "Pass out yer guns, an' take this fork an' pitch out the hay," wasZeb's order, which the dazed prisoners attempted to obey, when thefarmer, calling out the window, said, "I'll look out fer that."

  "Better let him, Zeb," said Rodney. "If we stay here too long we mayhave more Hessians than we need."

  "Good advice, ye townsman of the immortal Jefferson. Forward march."

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  [1] See "Marching with Morgan."

  [2] The chief incident in "Marching with Morgan," in which Zeb and young Donald Lovell are the leading characters.