Among the last of those who crossed the neck, was an officer on horse-back, whose eye was attracted by the group who stood under the tree. Pointing them out to those around him, he rode nigher to the party, and leaned forward in his saddle to examine their persons—
“How’s this!” he exclaimed—“a woman and two men under the charge of sentinels! Have we more spies among us—cut away the tree, men; we have need of it, and let in the light of the moon upon them!”
The order was hardly given before it was executed, and the tree felled with a despatch that, to any but an American, would appear incredible. Cecil stepped aside from the impending branches, and by moving into the light, betrayed the appearance of a gentlewoman by her mien and apparel.
“Here must be some mistake!” continued the officer—“why is the lady thus guarded?”
One of the soldiers, in a few words, explained the nature of her arrest, and in return received directions, anew, how to proceed. The mounted officer now put spurs into his horse, and galloped away, in pursuit of more pressing duties, though he still looked behind him, so long as the deceptive light enabled him to distinguish either form or features.
“’Tis advisable to go on the heights,” said the soldier, “where we may find the commanding general.”
“Any where,” returned Cecil, confused with the activity and bustle that had passed before her eyes, “or any thing, to be relieved from this distressing delay.”
In a very few moments they reached the summit of the nearest of the two hills, where they paused just without the busy circle of men who laboured there, while one of the soldiers went in quest of the officer in command. From the point where she now stood, Cecil had an open view of the port, the town, and most of the adjacent country. The vessels still reposed heavily on the waters, and she fancied that the youthful midshipman was already nestling in his own hammock, on board the frigate, whose tall and tapering spars rose against the sky in beautiful and symmetrical lines. No evidences of alarm were manifested in the town; on the contrary, the lights were gradually disappearing, notwithstanding the heavy cannonade which still roared along the western side of the peninsula; and it was probable that Howe, and his unmoved companions, yet continued their revels, with the same security in which they had been left two hours before. While, with the exception of the batteries, every thing in the distance was still, and apparently slumbering, the near view was one of life and activity. Mounds of earth were already rising on the crest of the hill—labourers were filling barrels with earth and sand; fascines were tumbling about from place to place, as they were wanted, and yet the stillness was only interrupted by the unremitting strokes of the pick, the low and earnest hum of voices, or the crashing of branches, as the pride of the neighbouring orchards came, crushing, to the earth. The novelty of the scene beguiled Cecil of her anxiety, and many minutes passed unheeded by. Fifty times parties, or individuals amongst the labourers, approaching near her person, paused to gaze a moment at the sweet features that the placid light of the moon rendered even more than usually soft, and then pushed on in silence, endeavouring to repair, by renewed diligence, the transient forgetfulness of their duties. At length the man returned, and announced the approach of the general who commanded on the hill. The latter was a soldier of middle age, of calm deportment, roughly attired, for the occasion, and bearing no other symbol of his rank than the distinctive crimson cockade, in one of the large military hats of the period.
“You find us in the midst of our labours,” he pleasantly observed, as he approached; “and will overlook the delay. It is reported you left the town this evening?”
“Within the hour.”
“And Howe—dreams he of the manner in which we are likely to amuse him in the morning?”
“It would be affectation in one like me,” said Cecil, modestly, “to decline answering questions concerning the views of the royal general; but still you will pardon me if I say, that in my present situation, I could wish to be spared the pain of even confessing my ignorance.”
“I acknowledge my error,” the officer unhesitatingly answered. After a short pause, in which he seemed to muse, he continued—“this is no ordinary night, young lady, and it becomes my duty to refer you to the general commanding this wing of the army. He possibly may think it necessary to communicate your detention to the commander-in-chief.”
“It is he I seek, sir, and would most wish to meet.”
He bowed, and giving his orders to a subaltern in a low voice, walked away, and was soon lost in the busy crowd that came and went in constant employment, around the summit of the hill. Cecil lingered a single moment after her new conductor had declared his readiness to proceed, to cast another glance at the calm splendour of the sea and bay; the distant and smoky roofs of the town; the dim objects that moved about the adjacent eminence, equally and similarly employed with those around her; and then raising her calash, and tightening the folds of her mantle, she descended the hill with the light steps of youth.
* At the commencement of the American revolution, there was no prescribed uniform, the subordinate officers being distinguished from each other, and their men, in the manner named. [1832]
Chapter XXX
“The rebel vales, the rebel dales,
With rebel trees surrounded,
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.”
The Battle of the Kegs.
* * *
THE ENORMOUS white cockade that covered nearly one side of the little hat of her present conductor, was the only symbol that told Cecil she was now committed to the care of one who held the rank of captain among those who battled for the rights of the colonies. No other part of his attire was military, though a cut-and-thrust was buckled to his form, which, from its silver guard, and formidable dimensions, had probably been borne by some of his ancestors, in the former wars of the colonies. The disposition of its present wearer was, however, far from that belligerent nature that his weapon might be thought to indicate, for he tendered the nicest care and assiduity to the movements of his prisoner.
At the foot of the hill, a wagon, returning from the field, was put in requisition by this semi-military gallant; and after a little suitable preparation, Cecil found herself seated on a rude bench by his side, in the vehicle; while her own attendants, and the two private men, occupied its bottom, in still more social affinity. At first their progress was slow and difficult, return carts, literally by hundreds, impeding the way; but when they had once passed the heavy-footed beasts who drew them, they proceeded in the direction of Roxbury, with greater rapidity. During the first mile, while they were extricating themselves from the apparently interminable line of carts, the officer directed his whole attention to this important and difficult manoeuvre; but when their uneasy vessel might be said to be fairly sailing before the wind, he did not choose to neglect those services, which, from time immemorial, beautiful women in distress have had a right to claim of men in his profession.
“Now do not spare the whip,” he said to the driver, at the moment of their deliverance; “but push on, for the credit of horse-flesh, and to the disgrace of all horned cattle. This near beast of yours should be a tory, by his gait and his reluctance to pull in the traces for the common-good—treat him as such, friend, and, in turn, you shall receive the treatment of a sound whig, when we make a halt. You have spent the winter in Boston, Madam?”
Cecil bent her head, in silent assent.
“The royal army will, doubtless, make a better figure in the eyes of a lady, than the troops of the colonies; though there are some among us who are thought not wholly wanting in military knowledge, and the certain air of a soldier,” he continued; extricating the silver-headed legacy of his grandfather from its concealment under a fold of his companion’s mantle—“you have balls and entertainments without number, I fancy, Ma’am, from the gentlemen in the king’s service.”
“I believe that few hearts are to be found amongst the females in Boston, so light as to mingle in their amusements!”
“God bless them for it! I am sure every shot we throw into the town, is like drawing blood from our own veins. I suppose the king’s officers don’t hold the colonists so cheap, since the small affair on Charlestown neck, as they did formerly?”
“None who had any interest at stake, in the events of that fatal day, will easily forget the impression it has made!”
The young American was too much struck by the melancholy pathos in the voice of Cecil, not to fancy he had, in his own honest triumph, unwittingly probed a wound which time had not yet healed. They rode many minutes after this unsuccessful effort to converse, in profound silence, nor did he again speak until the trampling of horses hoofs was borne along by the evening air, unaccompanied by the lumbering sounds of wheels. At the next turn of the road they met a small cavalcade of officers, riding at a rapid rate in the direction of the place they had so recently quitted. The leader of this party drew up when he saw the wagon, which was also stopped in deference to his obvious wish to speak with them.
There was something in the haughty, and yet easy air of the gentleman who addressed her companion, that induced Cecil to attend to his remarks with more than the interest that is usually excited by the common-place dialogues of the road. His dress was neither civil, nor wholly military, though his bearing had much of a soldier’s manner. As he drew up, three or four dogs fawned upon him, or passed with indulged impunity between the legs of his high-blooded charger, apparently indifferent to the impatient repulses that were freely bestowed on their troublesome familiarities.
“High discipline, by ——!” exclaimed this singular specimen of the colonial chieftains—“I dare presume, gentlemen, you are from the heights of Dorchester; and having walked the whole distance thither from camp, are disposed to try the virtues of a four-wheeled conveyance over the same ground, in a retreat!”
The young man rose in his place, and lifted his hat, with marked respect, as he answered—
“We are returning from the hills, sir, it is true; but we must see our enemy before we retreat!”
“A white cockade! As you hold such rank, sir, I presume you have authority for your movements! Down, Juno—down, slut.”
“This lady was landed an hour since, on the point, from the town, by a boat from a king’s ship, sir, and I am ordered to see her in safety to the general of the right wing.”
“A lady!” repeated the other, with singular emphasis, slowly passing his hand over his remarkably aquiline and prominent features, “if there be a lady in the case, ease must be indulged. Will you down, Juno!” Turning his head a little aside, to his nearest aid, he added, in a voice that was suppressed only by the action; “some trull of Howe’s, sent out as the newest specimen of loyal modesty! In such a case, sir, you are quite right to use horses—I only marvel that you did not take six instead of two. But how come we on in the trenches?—Down, you hussy, down! Thou shouldst go to court, Juno, and fawn upon his majesty’s ministers, where thy sycophancy might purchase thee a riband! How come we on in the trenches?”
“We have broken ground, sir, and as the eyes of the royal troops are drawn upon the batteries, we shall make a work of it before the day shows them our occupation.”
“Ah! we are certainly good at digging, if at no other part of our exercises! Miss Juno, thou puttest they precious life in jeopardy!—you will; then take thy fate!” As he spoke, the impatient general drew a pistol from his holster, and snapped it twice at the head of the dog, that still fawned upon him in unwitting fondness. Angry with himself, his weapon, and the animal at the same moment, he turned to his attendants, and added, with bitter deliberation—“gentlemen, if one of you will exterminate that quadruped, I promise him an honourable place in my first despatches to congress, for the service!”
A groom in attendance whistled to the spaniel, and probably saved the life of the disgraced favourite.
The officer now addressed himself to the party he had detained, with a collected and dignified air, showing he had recovered his self-possession.
“I beg pardon, sir, for this trouble,” he said—“let me not prevent you from proceeding; there may be serious work on the heights before morning, and you will doubtless wish to be there.”—He bowed with perfect ease and politeness, and the two parties were slowly passing each other, when, as if repenting of his condescension, he turned himself in his saddle, adding, with those sarcastic tones so peculiarly his own—“Captain, I beseech thee have an especial care of the lady!”*
With these words in his mouth, he clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped onward, followed by all his train, at the same impetuous rate.
Cecil had heard each syllable that fell from the lips of both in this short dialogue, and she felt a chill of disappointment gathering about her heart, as it proceeded. When they had parted, drawing a long, tremulous breath, she asked, in tones that betrayed her feelings—
“And is this Washington?”
“That!” exclaimed her companion—“No, no, Madam, he is a very different sort of man! That is the great English officer, whom congress has made a general in our army. He is thought to be as great in the field, as he is uncouth in the drawing-room—yes, I will acknowledge that much in his favour, though I never know how to understand him; he is so proud—so supercilious—and yet he is a great friend of liberty!”
Cecil permitted the officer to reconcile the seeming contradictions in the character of his superior, in his own way, feeling perfectly relieved when she understood it was not one likely to have any influence on her own destiny. The driver now appeared anxious to recover the lost time, and he urged his horses over the ground with increased rapidity. The remainder of their short drive to the vicinity of Roxbury, passed in silence. As the cannonading was still maintained with equal warmth by both parties, it was hazarding too much to place themselves in the line of the enemy’s fire. The young man, therefore, after finding a secure spot among the uneven ground of the vicinity, where he might leave his charge in safety, proceeded by himself to the point where he had reason to believe he should find the officer he was ordered to seek. During his short absence, Cecil remained in the wagon, a listener, and a partial spectator of the neighbouring contest.
The Americans had burst their only mortar of size, the preceding night, but they applied their cannon with unwearied diligence, not only in the face of the British entrenchments, but on the low land, across the estuary of the Charles; and still farther to the north, in front of the position which their enemies held on the well-known heights of Charlestown. In retaliation for this attack, the batteries along the western side of the town were in a constant blaze of fire, while those of the eastern continued to slumber, in total unconsciousness of the coming danger.
When the officer returned, he reported that his search had been successful, and that he had been commanded to conduct his charge into the presence of the American commander-in-chief. This new arrangement imposed the necessity of driving a few miles farther, and as the youth began to regard his new duty with some impatience, he was in no humour for delay. The route was circuitous and safe; the roads good; and the driver diligent. In consequence, within the hour, they passed the river, and Cecil found herself, after so long an absence, once more approaching the ancient provincial seat of learning.
The little village, though in the hands of friends, exhibited the infallible evidences of the presence of an irregular army. The buildings of the University were filled with troops, and the doors of the different inns were thronged with noisy soldiers, who were assembled for the inseparable purposes of revelry and folly. The officer drove to one of the most private of these haunts of the unthinking and idle, and declared his intentions to deposit his charge under its roof, until he could learn the pleasure of the American leader. Cecil heard his arrangements with little satisfact
ion, but yielding to the necessity of the case, when the vehicle had stopped, she alighted, without remonstrance. With her two attendants in her train, and preceded by the officer, she passed through the noisy crowd, not only without insult, but without molestation. The different declaimers in the throng, and they were many, even lowered their clamorous voices as she approached, the men giving way, in deference to her sex, and she entered the building without hearing but one remark applied to herself, though a low and curious buzz of voices followed her footsteps to its very threshold. That solitary remark was a sudden exclamation of admiration; and singular as it may seem, her companion thought it necessary to apologize for its rudeness, by whispering that it had proceeded from the lips of “one of the southern riflemen; a corps as distinguished for its skill and bravery as for its want of breeding!”
The inside of the inn presented a very different aspect from its exterior. The decent tradesman who kept it, had so far yielded to the emergency of the times, and perhaps, also, to a certain propensity towards gain, as temporarily to adopt the profession he followed; but by a sort of implied compact with the crowd without, while he administered to their appetite for liquor, he preserved most of the privacy of his domestic arrangements. He had, however, been compelled to relinquish one apartment entirely to the service of the public, into which Cecil and her companions were shown, as a matter of course, without the smallest apology for its condition.
There might have been a dozen people in the common room; some of whom were quietly seated before its large fire, among whom were one or two females; some walking; and others distributed on chairs, as accident or inclination placed them. A slight movement was made at the entrance of Cecil, but it soon subsided; though her mantle of fine cloth, and silken calash, did not fail to draw the eyes of the women upon her, with a ruder gaze than she had yet encountered from the other sex during the hazardous adventures of the night. She took an offered seat near the bright and cheerful blaze on the hearth, which imparted all the light the room contained, and disposed herself to wait in patience the return of her conductor, who immediately took his departure for the neighbouring quarters of the American chief.
The Spy & Lionel Lincoln Page 90