In the Days of Washington: A Story of the American Revolution

by F. S. Brereton

  Produced by David Edwards, Charlie Howard, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)

  "MY LAD," SAID WASHINGTON, "I THANK YOU"]

  IN THE

  DAYS OF WASHINGTON

  A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION

  BY

  WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON

 

  THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA MDCCCXCVI

  COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

  FRANKLIN PRINTING COMPANY 516-518 Minor Street Philadelphia

  CONTENTS

  CHAP. PAGE

  I IN WHICH MR. NOAH WAXPENNY INTRODUCES HIMSELF 5

  II IN WHICH A BRITISH OFFICER LOSES A FINE HORSE 24

  III IN WHICH NATHAN BECOMES A SOLDIER 42

  IV IN WHICH NATHAN'S MILITARY CAREER VERY NEARLY TERMINATES 62

  V IN WHICH BEGINS A MEMORABLE BATTLE 91

  VI IN WHICH NATHAN MEETS AN OLD ENEMY 106

  VII IN WHICH A BUTTON BETRAYS ITS OWNER 117

  VIII IN WHICH SIMON GLASS MAKES A VERY STRANGE REMARK 135

  IX IN WHICH NATHAN TAKES PART IN THE BATTLE OF WYOMING 154

  X IN WHICH NATHAN FINDS THE PAPERS 176

  XI IN WHICH GODFREY PLEADS FOR THE CONDEMNED PRISONERS 190

  XII IN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS ISLAND PLAYS A PART 208

  XIII IN WHICH NATHAN MAKES A PERILOUS SWIM 226

  XIV IN WHICH NATHAN FEIGNS SLUMBER TO SAVE HIS LIFE 244

  XV IN WHICH THE MYSTERY IS VERY NEARLY EXPLAINED 263

  XVI IN WHICH A PEEP AT THE STATE-HOUSE LEADS TO AN UGLY ADVENTURE 273

  XVII IN WHICH MR. WAXPENNY ASSERTS THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW AND THE CURTAIN FALLS 300

  IN THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON

  CHAPTER I

  IN WHICH MR. NOAH WAXPENNY INTRODUCES HIMSELF

  It was an evening in the first week in February, 1778. Supper was overin the house of Cornelius De Vries, which stood on Green Street,Philadelphia, and in that part of the town known as the NorthernLiberties. Agatha De Vries, the elderly and maiden sister of Cornelius,had washed and put away the dishes and had gone around the corner togossip with a neighbor.

  The light shed from two copper candlesticks and from the fire made thesitting-room look very snug and cozy. In one corner stood a tallclock-case, flanked by a white pine settee and a chest of drawers. Aspider legged writing-desk stood near the tile lined fireplace, overwhich was a row of china dishes--very rare at that time. The floor waswhite and sanded, and the walls were hung with a few paintings andcolored prints.

  Cornelius De Vries, a well-to-do and retired merchant, occupied abroad-armed chair at one side of the table that stood in the middle ofthe room. He was a very stately old gentleman of sixty, with aclean-shaven and wrinkled face. He wore a wig, black stockings, a coatand vest of broadcloth, and low shoes with silver buckles. His featuresbetrayed his Dutch origin, as did also the long-stemmed pipe he wassmoking, and the glass of Holland schnapps at his elbow.

  At the opposite side of the table sat Nathan Stanbury, a handsome lad,neatly dressed in gray homespun and starched linen, and of a size andstrength that belied his seventeen years. His cheeks were ruddy withhealth, and his curly chestnut hair matched the deep brown of his eyes.

  Nathan was a student at the College of Philadelphia, and the open bookin his hand was a Latin Horace. But he found it difficult to fix hismind on the lesson, and his thoughts were constantly straying far fromthe printed pages. Doubtless the wits of Cornelius De Vries werewool-gathering in the same direction, for he had put aside the hatedevening paper, "The Royal Gazette," and was dreamily watching the bluecurls of smoke as they puffed upward from his pipe. Now he would frownseverely, and now his eyes would twinkle and his cheeks distend in agrim sort of smile.

  There was much for the loyal people of the town to talk and think aboutat that time. For nearly six months the British army, under GeneralHowe, had occupied Philadelphia in ease and comfort, while at ValleyForge Washington's ragged soldiers were starving and freezing in thewintry weather, their heroic commander bearing in dignified silence thecensure and complaint that were freely vented by his countrymen. Blackand desperate, indeed, seemed the cause of the United American Coloniesin that winter of 1777-78, and as yet no light of cheer was breaking onthe horizon.

  After grappling for the twentieth time with his lesson, Nathan suddenlyclosed the book and tossed it on the table.

  "I can't translate Latin to-night, Master De Vries," he exclaimed. "It'sno use trying. I wish I was down-town. Perhaps a walk in the fresh airwill compose my mind."

  The merchant answered only by a negative shake of the head, as he filledand ignited his pipe for the third time.

  "Yes, you are right," Nathan said, resignedly. "I suppose I should keepindoors as much as possible to avoid suspicion, and I may be neededagain shortly--"

  Rat, tat, tat! Low and clear rang a knocking on the panels of the frontdoor.

  "There!" exclaimed Nathan, jumping up and running into the hall. Theopening of the door revealed a short man standing on the lower step; itwas too dark to see his face plainly. Without a word he handed the lada slip of paper, and then strode swiftly off down the street.

  Nathan closed and locked the door, and hurried to the light of thecandles. He unfolded the paper and read aloud the following briefmessage, written in a small and legible hand:

  "Come to the Indian Queen at once. Thee will find friends waiting thytrusty services."

  The lad's eyes sparkled, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement."Another ride to Valley Forge," he said, eagerly. "How glad my fatherwill be to see me! And it is a night ride this time, Master De Vries.I'll warrant 'tis a matter of great importance."

  "Not so loud, lad," cautioned the merchant. "But how comes it the wordwas trusted to paper? Did you know the messenger?"

  "It was Pulling, the deaf and dumb hostler from the tavern," Nathanreplied. "Doubtless they have just heard news, and could not spare timeto seek the usual messenger. Pulling is trustworthy enough and, ofcourse, since he can't speak--"

  "It was imprudent to write," interrupted the merchant, "but I dare saythey could do no better. Certainly, the summons is urgent, since itcalls thee out at night."

  "Yes, I must go at once," said Nathan, "and without so much as a changeof clothes. If the service is what I think it to be I will hardly beback by morning." As he spoke, he abstractedly dropped the slip of paperinto the side pocket of his jacket, and moved toward the hall.

  "May the good God bring you back in safety," Cornelius De Vries said,earnestly. "I love you dearly, lad, even as I love your father, and Iwould not see you come to harm. I have long mistrusted these perilousdoings, and yet for the sake of the cause--"

  "To save my oppressed country I would risk life ten times over,"declared Nathan. "If there were no work for me to do here I should befighting with our brave soldiers
. But there is really no danger, MasterDe Vries. You know how often I have been back and forth."

  "But not at night, lad."

  "So much the better, with the darkness to shelter me," replied Nathan."I must be off now. Good-bye, and don't worry."

  He put on his cap and briefly returned the pressure of the old man'shand. A moment later the door had closed behind him and he was walkingrapidly down the silent street. The weather had changed a day or twobefore, and there was a suggestiveness of spring in the mild, damp air.

  * * * * *

  Richard Stanbury, the father of Nathan, had come from England to Americain 1760, at the age of twenty-six. He brought a wife with him--a prettyand refined woman--and they settled in Philadelphia. The next yearNathan was born, and five years later his mother died. The blowwas a severe one to Richard Stanbury, and, the Quaker City beingnow distasteful to him, he removed with his son to New England.He accompanied the Connecticut colony to the Wyoming Valley inPennsylvania--which grant they had purchased from the DelawareIndians--and took part in the long struggle with the Pennsylvaniasettlers who were found in unjust possession. When the warfare finallycame to a peaceful end he settled down to a life of farming and huntingin that earthly paradise.

  Richard Stanbury was a handsome and refined man, and a highly educatedone. All with whom he came in contact were quick to realize hissuperiority, but in spite of that and his reserved nature, he madefriends readily. He closely guarded the secret of his past, whatever itwas, not even opening the pages to his son. But at times he hintedmysteriously at a great change that was likely to happen in the future,and he took pains to teach Nathan reading, writing, and history, and therules of gentlemanly conduct. There was deep affection between fatherand son, and that the lad did not seek to know the mystery of the pastwas because he respected his parent's silence. He grew up to be braveand strong, generous and fearless, and few companions of his age couldshoot with such skill or track game so untiringly through the forest.

  Soon after the great struggle for liberty began, and the colonies werein arms to throw off the British yoke, many of the settlers of Wyomingleft their families and the old men at home and marched away to joinWashington. Richard Stanbury went with them; he was Captain Stanburynow, and commanded a company. Nathan, young as he was, burned to enlistand fight. But his father would not hear of this. He had long ago formedother plans for the lad, and now the time for them was ripe. ToPhiladelphia went Nathan, to attend the admirable college that theQuaker town boasted, and to find a happy home with Cornelius De Vries.The expense was to come out of the worthy merchant's pocket. He hadclaimed this right because of the long friendship between himself andRichard Stanbury, which dated from the latter's arrival in America.

  So Nathan studied hard, a favorite with masters and pupils, while thefirst two years of the Revolution scored their triumphs and adverses.But he was not content to let others do the fighting, and when theBritish occupied Philadelphia, in the fall of 1777, the lad found atlast a chance to help the cause of freedom. Several loyal citizens ofthe town had secret means of getting information about the plans of theBritish officers. These men were friends of Cornelius De Vries, and theycame to know that his young lodger was a plucky and intelligent lad, andone to be relied upon. So Nathan was frequently chosen to carry messagesto the camp at Valley Forge, where he sometimes saw his father, andwhere he made the acquaintance of General Washington and other officers.It was a very simple plan, and one that was not likely to be suspected.The citizens were permitted to take their grain through the Britishlines to the grist-mill at Frankford, and the lad would ride out afterdinner on this errand. While the grain was being ground it was an easymatter for him to gallop to and from the American camp, then returningto the city by night with his sacks of meal.

  As Nathan hurried away from the Dutch merchant's house on this Februaryevening, he knew that he was wanted for some service of more thanordinary importance. "This is the first time I have been sent for atnight," he reflected, "and I guess it means a dash through the lines.The sentries don't allow any trips to mill after dark."

  He looked up to find himself passing the British barracks, which frontedon Green Street from Second to Third, and had been built soon afterBraddock's defeat. Howe's army now occupied them, and the red-coatedsentry at the gate glanced sourly at the lad in the gloom. Nathan wenton, carelessly whistling a snatch of a tune, and presently turned downFourth Street. A few yards from the corner, where a narrow bar of lightstreamed across the pavement from an open window, he collided with someone coming from the opposite way; both came to a halt.

  "Why don't you watch where you're going?" brusquely demanded thestranger, who looked to be about Nathan's age, and wore a new andwell-fitting British uniform.

  "I might ask you the same," Nathan responded pleasantly, "but I won't.You see it's so dark hereabouts, and--why, Godfrey! I didn't know you."

  "Nathan Stanbury!" cried the other, in keenest surprise and pleasure."How glad I am to see you!" He held out his hand expecting it to betaken.

  "No; I can't," Nathan said gravely. "I--I'm sorry to see you in thoseclothes."

  "And I'm proud of them. So you're as much of a patriot as ever? Ithought you would turn."

  "I'll never turn," declared Nathan. "I'm more of a patriot than I was,and some day I'll be a soldier--"

  "Hush! don't air your opinions so loudly around here," cautionedGodfrey, in a good-natured tone. "I'm not going to quarrel with you,Nathan. Two such old friends as we are can surely meet without talkingabout the war. I can't forget that you saved my life once, and I willalways be grateful."

  "That sounds well from a Tory," interrupted Nathan. "Why don't you beginby being grateful to your country?"

  The other flushed, and for a few embarrassing seconds nothing was said.Standing together in the stream of yellow lamp-light, the two ladslooked strangely alike, a resemblance that others had frequentlyobserved. They were of the same build and height, and had the samegeneral features. Godfrey Spencer was older by a year, with black eyesand hair. Nathan's eyes and hair were deep brown.

  "You are still attending college?" Godfrey finally said.

  Nathan nodded. "When did you come back to town?" he asked.

  "Two days ago," Godfrey replied, "with dispatches for General Clinton.You know I went with my mother to Long Island, and there I enlisted ina--a Tory regiment. I was promoted to lieutenant a month ago, and nowMajor Langdon, who is stationed here, has promised me a place on hisstaff." The last words were spoken with evident pride.

  "I'm sorry for you," said Nathan. "I can't wish you success, Godfrey,but I truly hope, for the sake of old times, that you won't get shot. Imust go now. Good-bye."

  Disregarding the other's appeal to return, Nathan walked rapidly downthe street, ignorant of the fact--as was Godfrey--that a British officerhad been watching both lads closely from the open and lighted window ofthe house in front of which they were standing.

  "Who was that lad, Spencer?" he demanded.

  "An old college friend, Major Langdon," replied Godfrey, a littlestartled by the question. "His people are rebels. I was trying toconvert him."

  "I mean his name, stupid, quick!"

  "Nathan Stanbury," said Godfrey.

  The major's face turned white, and something like an oath escaped hislips. His hands shook as they rested on the window-sill.

  "I might have known," he muttered to himself. Then aloud: "Yonder is abit of paper the lad dropped when he pulled out his handkerchief. Fetchit, Spencer."

  Godfrey reluctantly picked up the paper, and Major Langdon opened thedoor to admit him.

  * * * * *

  A few months before Richard Stanbury's arrival in the Colonies therecame from England to Philadelphia a merchant of London, Matthew Marshamby name. He was accompanied by his daughter, Betty Spencer, and herinfant son Godfrey. Mrs. Spencer wore mourning for her husband, who haddied recently. The merchant engaged in business, and prospere
dsufficiently to keep his little family in comfort and give his grandsona thorough education.

  To college went Godfrey in due course, and here he and Nathan wereclassmates for nearly a year after the beginning of the Revolution,during which period they formed a warm boyish friendship.

  On one occasion, while swimming in the Delaware, Nathan risked his ownlife to save Godfrey from drowning. But the growing animosities of thewar finally began to draw the lads apart, for Godfrey's mother andgrandfather were Tories. In the spring of 1777 Matthew Marsham died, andMrs. Spencer removed with her son to Long Island, where she had friendsliving.

  It was of this past friendship--so strongly recalled to-night--more thanof his errand, that Nathan was thinking sadly as he kept on his waydown-town. Frequently he crossed the street to avoid a group of drunkenand riotous soldiers, or put on a careless gait and attitude as somemounted officer spurred barrackwards past him. He met but few others,for reputable citizens kept indoors after dark.

  The Indian Queen tavern, one of the oldest and best known hostelries ofthe town, stood on South Fourth Street near Chestnut. The tap-room wasempty when Nathan entered, and the secretly loyal landlord, IsraelJenkins, was taking his ease on a bench.

  "Well, here I am," said Nathan. "Company in the back room again, eh?"

  "Not this time, lad," replied Jenkins, with a wink of the eye. "The backroom is too open for to-night's work. You'll find them--"

  Sudden footsteps outside caused the landlord to bite off the sentenceabruptly. "Get yourself yonder," he added, "and wait till I come. Quick!you mustn't be seen."

  He pushed Nathan into a dark hall on one side of the room, leaving thedoor open several inches, and from his place of concealment the lad sawthe new arrival enter the tavern.

  He was a man who would have attracted attention in any surroundings, andwas as likely to excite mirth as respect. His age was about fifty, andhis tall, gaunt figure was dressed in rusty broadcloth, black stockingswithout knee or shoe buckles, and a gray cocked hat. He wore a flaxenwig, and a steel watch chain with seals dangled from his waistcoat. Hisface was smooth and of a parchment color, his nose abnormally large, andhis eyes small and piggish. He had long white fingers, and he snappedthem nervously as he nodded with an air of condescension to thelandlord.

  "Good evening, sir," he said, in an oily voice. "I would have a pot ofyour best brew, and an ounce of mild tobacco."

  "I don't sell the last named," curtly replied Jenkins, who was by nomeans favorably impressed with his customer.

  "But you will let me have a little, eh, my good friend? Here is some,"tapping his breast pocket, "but the sea air has quite destroyed itsflavor."

  "You have lately crossed then?" asked Jenkins, who was always on thealert for news, and scented a present opportunity.

  "But this day I arrived from England on the packet-boat 'Bristol',"replied the stranger, "and right glad was I to put foot on solid ground.Thank you, my friend," he added, as Jenkins placed before him a tankardof ale and a twist of tobacco. "And now may I make bold to ask a littleinformation of you?"

  "Depends on what it is," growled Jenkins, his suspicions suddenlyawakened.

  "It is nothing harmful, sir; quite the contrary. Does not my faceinspire confidence? Then you shall have my name. It is Noah Waxpenny,and I have the honor to be confidential clerk to the firm of Sharswood &Feeman, solicitors, Lincoln Inn, London."

  "It's no odds if you were the king himself," imprudently repliedJenkins.

  "Ha, very clever! A neat joke," laughed Mr. Waxpenny. "God save KingGeorge, and all his loyal subjects!"

  "Amen to that!" muttered the landlord, aloud. "And God forgive the lie,"he added to himself.

  Mr. Noah Waxpenny chuckled, and half emptied the pewter at a draught.Then he leaned toward Jenkins in a confidential manner, and his nextwords were of so startling a nature that Nathan very nearly toppledagainst the door that separated him from the tap-room.