“Patrick,” she said, “I dropped my fife. Is it in there?”
“Let me see,” he said. He backed up and disappeared into the shelter. There was a pause. Then Beth heard leaves rustling.
Finally Patrick said, “Yes. I have it.” Patrick’s hand appeared with the fife.
Beth grabbed it. “Thanks,” she said. “Now get out of there. Or you’ll be bit.”
“What does it mean when a skunk stomps its feet?” he asked.
“It’s mad,” Beth said. “Why?”
“The skunks are in here,” Patrick said. “The mother is stomping her foot. But she doesn’t look mad. The babies are eating ants.”
“That must be so cute!” Beth said. She tried to peek inside. But Patrick’s body still blocked the opening. “What’s happening?”
“The mother—” Patrick said.
“The mother what?” Beth asked
“Ahhh!” Patrick screamed.
Beth helped Patrick remove his blue jacket and hat. They had taken most of the spray. She felt bad for him.
Beth’s eyes stung so badly she was crying. And she hadn’t even been sprayed. The stench also burned the inside of her nose. It smelled stronger than a cat’s dirty litter box.
She studied Patrick’s face. It was red and blotchty. His eyes were almost swollen shut.
“Let’s find some water,” he said. “I need to wash off this gross smell. Plus, it burns.” He pulled the delivery map out of his pocket. He handed it to Beth. “You read it.”
Beth rolled out the map and held the edges. “Wormley Creek is nearby,” she said. “It’ll be shallow enough for you to bathe in.”
The cousins walked through the woods. The shelling seemed mostly to the left. Beth figured that was the direction of Yorktown. If they stayed to the right they would reach the creek.
The woods thinned out to a large field. Cannons fired to the left. Suddenly there were explosions to the right.
“They’re on both sides!” Beth cried out.
“Let’s run for it,” Patrick said and dashed forward.
“Wait for me!” she cried.
Directly ahead was the river. They saw what was left of the British ships there. Suddenly one of the larger ships burst into flames. Patrick saw British soldiers in red coats jumping from the sides. Billows of black smoke rose to the blue sky.
Kaboom. KABOOM! Now the burning ship exploded. The whole ground shook. Large pieces of wood flew up into the air.
The impact caused Patrick to stumble. Beth reached out to steady him. He lost his footing and fell forward, dragging Beth with him.
Beth lost Patrick’s hand. They tumbled head over heels down, down, down into a deep trench. The sandy soil flew into Beth’s mouth. Mud covered her eyes. She had no idea what was happening.
The Trench
Patrick opened his eyes. He was staring up at Beth. She was leaning over him. Her face was muddy. So was the rest of her.
“Are you all right?” Beth asked. She looked worried.
Patrick shook his head. He sat up and spit the dirt out of his mouth. The back of his head was sore from the fall.
Patrick looked around. They were at the bottom of a long trench. It stretched away around curves on both sides of them.
“This must be one of the trenches they use for cover,” Patrick said.
“Who uses it?” Beth asked. “The British or the Americans?”
Patrick stood and tried to climb up the dirt sides of the trench. The sandy soil was loose and slippery. He got enough of a footing to peek over the top edge. Then he slid down to the bottom again.
“Yorktown and the river are that way,” Patrick said. He pointed down the trench to their left. “And the tents and cannons are that way.” Next he pointed to the right. “And probably behind us.”
Beth shook the dirt off of her skirt. Then she wrinkled her nose. “How do we get to some water?” she asked. “You still smell to high heaven.”
“It’s safe from gunfire down here,” Patrick said. “And I saw a wooden wall farther along the trench. It’s probably a fort. I didn’t see anyone nearby.”
“I’ll follow you,” Beth said.
The cousins followed the trench. The dirt walls were high above their heads on both sides of them. The path was snakelike as it wound this way and that.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The cannons made a steady noise from above them.
They reached the wall of wooden beams. It was a makeshift fort with a ladder. There was a ledge along the top for guards to watch the enemy.
“It’s facing the Americans,” Beth said.
“That means it was left here by the British,” Patrick said. He tested the ladder and climbed up.
“Be careful,” Beth said.
He crouched on the upper shelf and peeked over the top.
“Uh-oh!” he called out. Hundreds of soldiers in blue uniforms marched in rows. They carried rifles with bayonets fixed at the end. The men were following wheeled cannons.
“What’s wrong?” Beth asked.
“We’re closer to the cannons,” Patrick called down to her. “Or they’re getting closer to us!”
“What do you mean?” she said.
Patrick watched as the rows of soldiers suddenly turned. Now they were marching toward the trench!
“Oh no,” he said in a low voice.
Suddenly the soldiers pointed their rifles forward and started running. One of them shouted, “Rush on, boys!”
“They’re charging this way!” Patrick cried. He slid down the ladder to Beth. “Back the way we came! Hurry!”
Patrick and Beth turned and ran back down the trench. Behind them, soldiers poured into the trench opening.
Beth’s heavy wet skirt whipped against her legs. As the cousins ran, the soldiers sounded farther behind them. Rifle shots were fired. She hoped they weren’t shooting at her.
Patrick was just ahead of her.
Beth looked back down the trench and couldn’t see anything. The sounds of war seemed farther off.
“Patrick,” she cried. “Wait!”
Patrick slowed.
“Give me a boost?” she asked.
Patrick knelt on one knee. The other was bent.
Beth used his bent leg as a stair. She stuck her head above the trench. She looked around.
“The soldiers have climbed out a nearby trench,” she told Patrick. “They’re running toward Yorktown.”
“Do you see water?” Patrick asked.
Beth looked around the field. She saw Wormley Creek. No one seemed to be fighting near it. “Yes, the creek is nearby,” she said.
“Can you believe this?” Patrick said angrily. “We’re stuck between two sides in a war. And I smell like skunk!”
Beth hopped off Patrick’s knee.
Patrick stood up. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to be a grouch. But my skin hurts.” He scratched at his white shirt.
“We have to get you cleaned up,” Beth said.
They followed the trench back to where it was closest to the creek. They climbed out and lay down on the grass. They looked around to make sure it was safe. Then they stood and ran to a nearby grove of trees.
The grove was littered like a junkyard. Parts of a broken wagon sat off to the side. The remains of campfires dotted the ground. Rubbish and bits of white cloth hung from the sides of trees. Holes made by cannon shells pocked the earth. Sides of trees were splintered.
Beth saw a wooden trunk next to the wagon. It was turned up on one end.
Patrick came up next to her. “What’s all that stuff?” he asked.
Beth rummaged around inside the trunk. She picked up a white shirt. “This might fit,” she said.
“Why would they have extra clothes out here?” Patrick asked.
“I think this was a storage area,” Beth said. “They have more uniforms than soldiers now.” The sad thought made her want to end the war even more.
Patrick pointed with his toe at something round. It looked li
ke a drum.
Beth pulled out a red jacket that was covered by a tarp. “Maybe it’s a drummer boy’s uniform,” she said.
“Oh, no,” Patrick said. “I’m not putting that on. I can’t look like one of the redcoats. The Americans will shoot me!”
Beth pointed to the creek nearby. “Stop complaining and go wash,” she said.
Deserters
Patrick found a section of the creek covered with bushes. They were thick enough to give him privacy. He took off his clothes and washed as well as he could.
Afterward Patrick’s chest was still red and itchy from the skunk spray. And he still smelled bad.
Cannon fire and rifle shots sounded in the distance.
“Hurry!” Beth said from afar.
Patrick climbed out of the creek. He put on the clothes she’d found. “They’ll think I’m a spy!” Patrick said.
“Then you’ll be the smelliest spy ever,” Beth said.
“That’s not funny,” Patrick said, grumbling. He imagined meeting George Washington. The general would think he was a smelly redcoat.
Patrick heard a rustling from the other side of the bushes. Beth said something, but it was muffled.
Patrick finished dressing and stepped out. He was dressed in the white shirt and the bright-red jacket of a British drummer boy.
“Well? How do I look?” he asked.
Beth stood in front of him. Behind her was James Armistead. The spy’s hand was pressed over her mouth. He wore the red jacket and pants he’d had on before. The same black hat with white-and-purple flowers sat on his head. The satchel over his shoulder hung down by his side.
“You changed your coat,” Armistead said.
Patrick’s mind raced with what to do. His mind was blank. What could he do?
Armistead released his hand from Beth’s mouth. But he held onto her collar so she couldn’t run away.
Beth looked at Patrick helplessly.
“Sprayed by a skunk?” Armistead asked. “My guess is that your skin is really red and sore by now.”
Patrick nodded. “What about it?” he asked.
“You want to use some jewelweed,” Armistead said. “It grows by the creek. It’ll cure the itch and pain.”
Patrick crossed his arms. He was suspicious. “You’re a spy,” he said. “Why would you help us?”
“You think I’m a spy?” Armistead said with a small laugh. “And what are the two of you? One minute I see you in General Cornwallis’s hideout. The next I see you sneaking over to the other side. Now he’s got a British uniform on.”
“We’re not British Loyalists,” Beth said.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Armistead said. “You have to get away from here. The French and American troops are coming through. Stay with me, and you’ll be all right.”
Patrick and Beth looked at one another. Should we trust him? Beth’s expression asked.
“You could have easily turned us in earlier,” Patrick said. “But you didn’t. And you could take her as prisoner now. But you aren’t going to.”
Beth said, “We can come a little way with you.”
Armistead let go of Beth’s collar. “Fair enough,” he said. “Now let’s find that jewelweed for your skunk skin.”
Patrick felt instant relief when the jewelweed touched his sore skin. The skunk smell seemed to fade, too.
Patrick, Beth, and Armistead then left the creek area. Armistead zigzagged his way toward the river. Patrick and Beth followed along. Beth frowned the whole way but didn’t speak.
Patrick knew they were headed in the direction of Yorktown again. He wished he had a plan for escape. But, at the moment, he felt lost. More than that, he worried about wandering into the line of fire.
Patrick soon recognized the area. They were returning to General Cornwallis’s cave.
“You tricked us!” Patrick cried.
“You’re not nice,” Beth said.
“Be patient, children,” Armistead said. “It will work out yet.”
Armistead guided the cousins inside the cave. The general was talking with Officer Mudge. General Cornwallis looked up.
“Armistead!” General Cornwallis said. “Where have you been?”
Armistead gave a slight bow. “I took your letter to the Americans,” he said. “I did as you instructed.”
Patrick scowled. So it was true. Armistead was part of the general’s scheme.
General Cornwallis frowned. “Yet they still fire at us,” he said. “The cannons do not stop. Why?”
“They didn’t believe you,” Armistead said. “They knew you were trying to delay them. They knew you might try to escape. And then counterattack.”
“The weather put an end to that plan,” Officer Mudge said with a snort.
Hearing Officer Mudge snort reminded Patrick about the handkerchief. He worried it might be inside his blue coat. He reached into his pants pocket. He sighed with relief. The handkerchief was there.
“Fate continues to work against me,” the general said. He clasped his hands behind his back. He paced a few steps.
“It’s not for me to say what fate does,” Armistead said.
“Why have you brought these children?” Officer Mudge asked. “Isn’t this a laundry girl? And what is this boy?”
“He smells of skunk,” the general said with a sniff.
“He is a drummer boy,” Armistead said.
Patrick said, “I’m not—”
Armistead put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder to silence him.
“Are we in need of a drummer boy?” the general asked.
“For the surrender,” Armistead said.
The general looked at Armistead with sad eyes.
Officer Mudge shook his head. “Why should we surrender?” he asked.
“I have seen the strength of your enemies,” Armistead said. “You’re fighting the combined forces of the Continental army and the French. General Washington leads one. General Lafayette leads the other.”
Lafayette! Patrick thought and felt stupid. Lafayette was the young officer with the curls. He was the Frenchman in the tent.
“You cannot win against them,” Armistead said.
“Why should we believe you?” Officer Mudge asked.
“Because you promised me freedom if you win,” Armistead said. “I have no reason to lie.”
Armistead gestured to the cousins. “Ask them,” he said. “They’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
Officer Mudge and the general looked at the cousins.
“It’s true,” Patrick said. “You can’t win. You’re surrounded. They have plenty of cannonballs. There’s food and supplies.”
Beth added, “The only way out is to sprout wings and fly.”
Armistead took a step toward the general. His hands reached out. “Please, General Cornwallis,” he said. “Save your men from being killed.”
“Get out,” the general said with a wave of his hand. “Leave me to consider our plans.”
Armistead and the cousins stepped out of the cave.
They startled a redcoat who had been listening.
“Surrender?” he asked softly.
“You believe you should keep fighting?” Armistead asked him.
“Not at all,” the redcoat said. “It would be a relief to stop now. I haven’t eaten for two days.”
The redcoat stood on guard at the cave entrance. He had a mournful look.
“I don’t get it,” Patrick said to Armistead. “Are you a spy or not?”
Armistead faced Patrick and Beth. He smiled like a cat. “There is a reason the French and Americans didn’t believe Cornwallis’s letter,” he said. “It was because I told them not to. And this morning I told Lafayette how desperate the British troops have become.”
Beth gasped. “So you’re a spy for the Americans?” she asked.
James Armistead gave a small shrug. “I’m a servant to freedom,” he said.
A moment later Officer Mudge emerged from the cave. He seemed unhappy.
“Get your things,” he said to Patrick.
“What things?” Patrick asked.
“You’re a drummer boy, aren’t you?” he snapped.
Patrick looked to Armistead for help. The spy nodded. Patrick knew he had to go along with the plan.
Officer Mudge called to the redcoat on guard. “Get this boy a drum and a pair of drumsticks,” he said. “On the double.”
The soldier saluted; then he left.
“I’ll want someone who plays the fife,” the officer said.
Beth looked startled. She fumbled in her pocket. She quickly pulled out the fife that Whit had given her. “Like this one?” she asked.
“That’ll do,” Officer Mudge said.
“What does this mean?” Armistead asked.
“General Cornwallis has taken you at your word,” Officer Mudge said. “He is going to surrender.”
Blindfolded
Beth took in a quick breath. Patrick was astonished. This was an answer to their prayers.
“It pains me to admit this,” Officer Mudge said. “The British army must surrender. We have lost many, many lives in this wasted fight.”
Office Mudge’s eyes locked on Patrick and Beth. The soldier said, “Now I need a drummer boy and fife player. They are to climb to the top of the ridge. We must tell the Americans what we have decided.”
“But I don’t know how to play the drums,” Patrick said.
“You weary me!” Officer Mudge said. “I don’t give a twopence if you can play. I want you to make noise.”
The redcoat returned with a drum. He fit the straps on Patrick’s back. Then he hung the heavy drum in front. He pushed two drumsticks into Patrick’s hands.
“The time has come,” Officer Mudge said.
“You will go with them?” Armistead asked.
“It is my duty,” Officer Mudge said.
“What may I do?” Armistead asked.
“Your services will no longer be needed,” Officer Mudge said to Armistead. “Go and hope to find freedom in another time and another place.”
Armistead gave a slight bow to the officer. Then he faced Patrick and Beth and gave another bow. He turned and walked away.
Surprise at Yorktown Page 4