CHAPTER VI
The conversation around our Yule fire, to which I had listened with sucheager absorption, had caused my budding convictions to bloom in an hourinto fully expanded principles. I had caught the fever of patriotismrunning like an epidemic through the land. Were not we of Scotch Irishrace and Presbyterian faith pledged already to the cause since the firstblood shed for American liberty was the blood of the Scotch IrishPresbyterians, spilled at the battle of Alamance, when the stern NorthCarolina "Regulators" had risen, like Cromwell's "Ironsides," againstthe tyranny of their royal governor? The "Boston Tea Party," therefore,found quickest sympathy among the Scotch Irish of the Southern andMiddle States, and the earliest and grimmest of the resolutions sent upto the several assemblies, urging that Massachusetts be sustained, andkingly tyranny determinedly resisted, came from the towns and countiessettled by these people. "Freedom or death" was the consuming sentimentin the hearts of many Scotch Irish Americans for months before thetypical orator of that race thrilled a continent by speaking thoseimmortal words, "Give me liberty, or give me death."
* * * * *
The first call issued by Congress for troops named seven rifle companiesto be recruited in Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia. Again I putaside my books, only this time I gave them to a fellow student whosorely needed them, and went home to tell my father that I meant toenlist. I recall as vividly as 'twere yesterday that calm springafternoon when I took the short cut across flower spangled meadows, andbosky, sweet scented woods to the humble home which had given me a youthso rich in love and happiness, but which I was so soon to leave forprivations, dangers, and temptations such as had not yet entered into myimagination.
It was the year of my majority, and I was already mature in physicaldevelopment. Even in our neighborhood of "brawny Scotchmen" I was calledtall, measuring six feet three inches in my moccasins, and thoughsomewhat spare, was broad of shoulder, long of limb, muscular, agile,and deep winded; moreover, I could ride and shoot with the best man inthe valley. More proud was I, at this time, of my strength, and the keensight of my gray eyes, than of my brown, curling hair, and the generalcomeliness of my appearance, in which my mother took such pride. A fewmonths later I was to have my hour of vanity, and to eat the fruit ofit.
Few men, I imagine, can separate their lives sharply into boyhood andmanhood, but mine I can. That last Christmas holiday of my schooldaysmarked the line of division, and I took the first step across it the dayI saved Ellen from the bear's fangs, and the second the hour I formedthe resolution to shoulder my rifle for American liberty. My father, itis true, had chosen to treat me as a man, since the Indian raid, butfrom the hour I made up my mind to enlist I put aside childish things,and bore myself with a consciousness of manhood's power.
* * * * *
A stranger sat on our porch who, hearing me announce impetuously to myfather, as he came to the top of the porch steps to meet me, that "Imeant to enlist in one of the rifle companies," sprang up from hischair, seized my hand, shook it heartily, and said with a genial smile,and cordial tone that made my spirit go out to him at a leap,
"You're a lad after my own heart, sir! Are there many more like you inthis valley? How old is your son, Justice McElroy?"
"Not long past twenty, sir. Donald, this is Captain Morgan, the renownedIndian fighter of whom you have so often heard. He is in theneighborhood to enlist men for his rifle company, so you have not far togo to fulfill your purpose."
I looked now, you may be sure, with fresh interest at the powerful butgraceful figure before me. He was nearly as tall as I, but broader andheavier; his tanned, handsome face was marred by a scar on the rightcheek, and I noted even in this first hasty scrutiny an indication ofstubborn will in the set of his lips, and a dare devil gleam in his fineeyes that would make one hesitate to pick a quarrel with him.
"I have found my captain," I thought, my pulse throbbing joyously, justas he spoke again, with that ring of cheerful courage in his voice whichI was to learn to know so well, and so often to be inspired by.
"That we shall win admits no doubt if I can enlist a company of muscularyoung giants like you. Can you shoot, lad?"
"Aye, that he can," laughed my father, well pleased, I could see, byCaptain Morgan's manner toward me. "Cut off a squirrel's head at adistance of three hundred yards. And there are other marksmen in ourvalley that can fully equal him, though few as tall as my son Donald,"and he laid a caressing hand upon my shoulder.
"You shall be one of my sergeants, lad," continued Captain Morgan,seizing my hand again, "and to-morrow you must ride with me to enlist asmany like you as this neighborhood affords."
"Unfortunately, Captain Morgan," said my father, "some of those whowould like nothing better than the opportunity to strike a blow for ourrights, dare not leave their families and homes here unprotected,subject as we are to the raids of the savages from across the mountain.Enough able-bodied men must be left in the valley to turn back Indianforays, though, since our victory over them at Point Pleasant, ourdanger is not near so great. Still a score or more recruits may be hadin this neighborhood, I doubt not."
"May I ask, Captain Morgan, whither we are to march after our quota hasbeen recruited?" I questioned.
"Straight to Boston, where we will have a chance to drill."
"And to fight also, I hope."
"Amen, lad, say I to that! and may there be other of your brave spirit.I like not this dallying, this parleying with the stubborn king, who butdeludes us with promises while he gains time to equip and to land histroops upon our shores. And I am beginning to think that this talk ofour Congress that we take up arms as loyal subjects of England, to forcefrom the crown redress of our grievances, goes not far enough. Only ademocracy where all are free and equal, and where the stakes are worththe risks and privations to be endured, is suited to the genius of thisvast and virgin continent. Under no other form of government may she berightly developed."
"Nor are you alone, sir, in that opinion," replied my father. "Noneother is held in this valley, as the memorial sent up to the assembly bythe county committee of Augusta in February last can testify. Were theScotch Irish settlers of this country consulted, Captain Morgan, ourdeclaration of independence would be speedily proclaimed; PatrickHenry's burning words but voice the sentiment of his race."
"The timid and the half-hearted may not yet be safely set in opposition,perhaps," answered Captain Morgan, "and Congress is beset with manydifficulties. But 'tis for the independence of the American States Ihave drawn my sword"--and as he spoke he sprang suddenly to his feet,straightened his imposing figure and keyed his voice to a clarionpitch--"nor will I sheathe it again, save death or bodily infirmitiesintervene, till the glorious cause of America's liberty has beenwon--till we are a free, self-governing people!"
"I take that oath with you, sir," said I, springing also to my feet.
Then my father, looking up at us from his arm chair, unwiped tears uponhis cheeks, said, in deep, reverent tone: "God grant us victory, andmake this goodly land the home of freedom--a refuge for the oppressed ofall nations!"
* * * * *
We found no trouble in enlisting men enough in our valley to completethe company Captain Morgan was to command, and in three weeks I wasready to march the Augusta boys to Frederick County, where we were tojoin our captain and the rest of the men. The twenty-two boys from ourend of the valley bivouacked all night in our yard, that we might get anearly start the next morning; and that evening the neighbors came fromfar and near to give us farewell, and a blessing. Uncle Thomas and hisfamily came with the rest, Aunt Martha helping to cook the hot supperwhich my mother insisted on serving the lads under the trees, that theirhome-filled haversacks might be saved for the march.
Thomas wandered about among the men, lying in groups upon the grass inthe shade of the oaks and elms, with a look of distress upon his facethat surprised me. At last he called me to one side, and sa
id withtrembling lips,
"Don, I'd give the next ten years of my life to go with you."
"You are too young, Thomas. Why, you are not nineteen yet."
"There are four boys in the squad no older than I, and I am strong, anda fair shot."
"Then enlist; it's not too late yet, and the more the merrier."
"But my mother made me give her a solemn promise that I would not. Shewishes me to be a minister, and once I thought I was called, but now Ibelieve I was mistaken. I couldn't be so wild to go to the war if I hadreceived a call from heaven to the ministry; but mother says it willkill her if I turn soldier, after she has solemnly consecrated me to theLord. Oh, Donald, what must I do?"
"I cannot advise you to disobey your mother, Thomas," I answered, "but Iam sorry for you."
"Ellen says my life is my own, to live as I please, and that not even mymother has a right to dictate to me whether I shall be preacher orsoldier," sighed Thomas.
Now I half agreed with Ellen, but the doctrine seemed an irreverent oneto a youth of Scotch Irish raising, so I only repeated, "I think you hadbest obey your mother, Tom," which afforded him small consolation. Heanswered me with a suppressed groan, and presently went back to thesoldiers.
Hot and tired from the day's labors, I decided, after supper, to coolmyself by a last drink of my mother's delicious buttermilk. The footpathto the spring wound its careless way down a grassy slope starred withdandelions, and dusted with milky ways of daisies and pale bluets.Apple, pear, and peach trees grew in the angles of the worm fence whichseparated the garden from the meadow, and they were so full of bloomthat they looked like masses of pink and white clouds drifted down toearth. There was a crab apple tree among them, and its elusive fragrancecame and went upon the zephyrs which swayed the dandelions and rustledthe blossoms upon the trees. The world about my feet was as fair andfull of mystic charm as the moon-glorified, star-spangled heaven. Thetalk, the work, the plans which had filled the last weeks of my life,seemed out of tune with God's purposes, as revealed in nature--out ofkeeping with His beneficent plans for all His handiwork.
Pondering this strange anomaly, of the tendency of God's creatures tomake war continually upon each other, in the midst of a world so fair,so beneficent, and so peaceful--the solemn mystery of death alwaystreading close upon the heels of life--of the desolation alwaysthreatening beauty, I passed the springhouse before I knew it, and foundmyself at the foot of the hill, where the spring breaks forth to fallinto a natural basin overhung by a broad, jutting rock. As I raised myeyes to this rock, a vision greeted me which startled me into aninstant's consciousness of superstitious terror. Did I see a ghost atlast--after all my jeering unbelief? Was that slim shape, wrapped in awhite robe standing so motionless on the white rock, the spirit of someIndian maiden, seeking again the haunts where in life she had met herlover?
Of course not; it was only Ellen, for now I saw a hand lifted, to pushback the wind blowsed curls from her forehead. Softly I climbed the hillbehind her, and stood at her side, but so rapt was she in her ownthoughts, she did not hear me till I spoke.
"What are you looking at, Ellen?" I asked.
Had I not thrown my arm quickly about her, she would have sprung fromthe rock in her startled surprise, yet she did not scream, but regainedher poise in an instant, disengaged herself from my arm, and answered mecalmly--
"At the moon, Cousin Donald."
"'Tis only a round, bright ball, Ellen; why gaze at it so long andfixedly?"
"'Tis more than a silver ball when one looks at it so. It grows biggerand deeper, and within there are mountains and caverns, and seas andplains; mayhap there are people there who suffer and think as we do.Would you not like to have great wings, Cousin Donald, and fly and flythrough the soft blue air, till you reached the moon?"
"Such fancies have never come into my mind, Ellen. You must have cleareyes, and a vivid imagination," and I smiled down upon her, not a littleamused by her fanciful conceits.
"If I did not I should die;" then, turning hotly upon me, "How would youlike to walk back and forth, back and forth along a bare floor, withbare garret walls about you, whirring a great, ugly wheel, and twistingcoarse, ill-smelling wool all day long, day after day? One dare not_think_, for then one gets careless and breaks or knots the thread, andyet to keep one's mind upon so dreary, and so monotonous a task ismaddening. Do you wonder I run away, and talk with the flower-fairies,or the stars, whenever I get the chance?"
"No, Ellen, I don't. I have often thought that women's tasks must bevery wearisome, the endless spinning, weaving, and knitting. I wonderthey have patience for such work."
"I wish I might go to the war with you, Cousin Donald."
"You could never stand the hardships."
"But I think I could. I'd love to sleep out of doors, under the winkingstars, and the friendly moon; I'd love to walk through tracklessforests, across wide, unknown plains, and to come now and then upon sometown or settlement where every one would feast and praise the patriots."
"But what of the cold, hunger and fatigue? of wounds and capture and thesights and sounds after a battle? It tries even the souls of brave,strong men to bear such things."
"The soul of a woman might endure as much, and I think I should mindeven those things less than eternal spinning, Cousin Donald."
I laughed now. "You are not yet a woman, Ellen, and you are not doomed,I trust, to eternal spinning. When I come back from the war we'll gohunting every day, even though we will have to run off from AuntMartha."
"I shall not have a friend left except grandma."
"And Thomas."
"Thomas likes me, yes, but he is too much afraid of his mother to helpme have my way. When you come back you may not find me here."
"Of course I shall; and remember, Ellen, we are always to be goodfriends and comrades," and I held out my hand to her.
"Good friends and comrades," repeated Ellen; "I shall remind you one daywhen you come home famous, and dignified--if I am able to endure lifewith Aunt Martha so long as that," and she put her hand in mine in theold way of confident comradeship which had gone out of our intercoursefor months. Hand in hand we went back to the house, talking intimately,she of her thoughts and feelings, I of my plans and hopes.
* * * * *
Before sun-up the next morning we were on the march. I had left Jeanweeping bitterly on grandmother's shoulder, and I doubt not the dear oldlady wept, too, when I was out of sight. My mother stood in the doorway,shading her brave, loving eyes with her hand, that I might not see fallthe tears glittering on their lashes. Father walked beside me at thehead of my little troop for a mile, and, before he left me, took me inhis arms in sight of them all, straining me for an instant to hisbreast, and pouring out a patriarch's blessing upon my bowed head.
Our valley looked very fair that day, as we marched northward across it.The rank wheat rolled in billows of rich green, the springing cornshowed narrow gray green blades, which moved gently to and fro above theloamy uplands, and the forests, which enclosed the cleared lands on allsides, were fresh robed in verdure of many hues. Edging the forest likea jeweled braid grew masses of red-bud, dogwood and hawthorn in fullblossom, and singing along its sparkling way, the river wound in and outof velvety meadows with deep curves and bold sweeps of bountiful intent,embracing as much as possible of this fair land that it might scatterwidely its fertilizing influences.
"Boys," I said, pausing on an eminence from which we could see all ourend of the valley, and pointing outward, as I stopped to take a long,last look, "is it not a land worth fighting for?"
"Aye, aye, sergeant!" came in hearty chorus.
"Then fight for it we will, like brave men and true, nor look backwardagain till freedom be won."
"Aye, that we will!" again in deep, full accord, and when all had takena lingering look, I gave the command--
"Right about face! Forward!"
Without a backward glance, we tramped onward, our faces forever towardthe en
emies of freedom.
Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman Page 6