Altsheler, Joseph - [Novel 09] Page 6

  In Hostile Red

  Daunted by the fall of their leader, the British line bent and broke, and the men fled towards the cover of the forest. My heart sickened at the plight of Blake, enemy though he was.

  The Americans, much to the surprise of the British, did not pursue, but drew off towards cover. Blake lay between the two detachments, his face almost concealed in the grass. I could not leave him there while life might still be in his body, to be trampled to pieces in the next charge of the horsemen, and driven by a sudden impulse, I sprang from my saddle, ran forward, and seized him by the shoulders, just as the great ranger whirled his horse and galloped by me. He had his sabre in his hand again, and I thought he was going to cut me down, as he might easily have done, but, to my unutterable surprise and relief, he made no motion to strike. Instead he said to me, as he galloped by,

  " You are a brave man, but you are a fool, a most wondrous fool ! "

  I stayed not to reflect wherein I was a most wondrous fool, but, with a strength which was a creation of the emergency and the excitement, I ran back towards the British lines, dragging poor Blake after me. Every moment I expected to feel an American bullet in my back, but none came, nor did I hear the sound of shots.

  Then, after a space of time which it seemed to me would never come to an end, I reached the trees, and strong hands seized both Blake and me, dragging us under cover.

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  CHAPTER FIVE The Work of IVildfoot

  I REMAINED for a minute or two in a stupor, superinduced by the excitement of the fight and my great physical exertions. From this I was aroused by Barton, who was now in com- mand, Blake being disabled.

  " It was gallantly done, Lieutenant Melville," he said. " You have saved our captain's life."

  " Are you sure he is still living? " I asked.

  " He is stunned by the shock he received when that great rebel hurled him to the ground," said Barton, " but he will be well enough in time."

  " You have saved more lives than Blake's," whis- pered Marcel, as Barton turned. " You have saved yours and mine, for that villain Belfort suspected that you threw your horse purposely against his. In face of this he dare not declare his suspicions."

  " By the way," resumed Marcel, a moment later, "you might ask our haughty Norman noble over there if the rebel dogs can fight."

  I did not ask the question, though, had time and place been otherwise, it would have pleased me much to do BO.

  All the troopers had dismounted and were putting themselves in posture of defence behind the rocks, hillocks, and trees. Barton expected another attack 73

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  upon the instant, but it was not made. In fact, when he examined with his field-glass the wood into which Wildfoot and his men had withdrawn, he announced that he could see naught of them.

  "I see nothing among those trees over there," he said ; " not a horse, not a man. Verily the fellows have learned to perfection the art of hiding them- selves. By St. George, they need it in their dealings with us ! "

  It was sometimes the temper of the British in our country to boast and to show arrogance even when sore outwitted and outfought by us, and then to wonder why we did not love them. Perhaps this fault was not theirs, exclusively.

  " Likely enough this silence is some new trick/' said Belfort, " some scheme to draw us into another ambush."

  " I suspect that you speak the truth," replied Barton. " fStand close, men. We have suffered too much already to risk another trap."

  The men were quite willing to obey his order and stand close. Thus we waited. Blake revived by and by, and a careful examination showed that he had no bones broken, though he was sore in every muscle and still somewhat dazed in mind. But he was urgent in entreating his officers not to take ex- cessive risks.

  " I fancy that we have nothing to do but to wait here," said Barton to him, " for the rebels will of a surety attack us again very soon."

  But in this Barton was mistaken, for the Americans seemed to have gone away. We waited a full hour, 74

  The Work of Wild foot

  and then, as they gave no evidence of being any- where near us, a small scouting-party was sent out, which presently returned with word that they were in truth gone, and that the woods were empty.

  " They feared to attack us when we were on our guard," said Burton, triumphantly. " There is naught for us to do now but to go and escort the wagon- train back to the city."

  We gathered up the wounded and rode over the ridge in search of the wagon-train. We found with ease the tracks of the wheels and followed them towards the city, expecting to overtake the wagons. Presently, as we turned around a hill, we rode almost full tilt into three or four of them lying upon the ground, too much shattered and broken ever to be of use again.

  In his surprise Barton reined back his horse against mine, for I rode just behind him.

  " What is this? " he exclaimed.

  " It seems that we have the wagon-train, or what is left of it," said Marcel. " There is a placard ; it may inform us."

  A pine board was stuck in a conspicuous place upon one of the wagons, and some words had been written upon it with a piece of charcoal. We rode forward and read,

  " To Sir William Howe or His Representative. For the Wagons and their Contents We Are Much Indebted As we were Hungry And You Have Fed Us. 75

  In Hostile Red

  We Give You Leave to Take Repayment At Such Time and Place As You May Choose.

  " WILLIAM WILDFOOT."

  Barton swore in his rage. It was easy enough to see now why the patriots had withdrawn after the first attack. The provision-train was more valuable than arms or prisoners to the American army, and, barring the broken wagons, Wildfoot and his men had carried off everything. Nor were the British in any trim to pursue, a business at which, most like, they would have had their faces slapped.

  Barton swore with a force and fluency that I have seldom heard surpassed, and Blake said with a melancholy smile,

  " It is well that I have this broken head to offer as some sort of an excuse, or I think it would go hard with me."

  He spoke truly, for, though his expedition had been a most dire failure, his own condition was proof that he had done valiant duty.

  The British gathered up their wounded again and began their march to the city. The country glowed in the brilliant sunshine of a summer afternoon, but I was in no mood to enjoy its beauty now. Our column marched mournfully along, as sad as a funeral procession. Even though the victory had gone where I wished it to go, yet there were others before my eyes, and I felt sorrow for them in their wounds and defeat.

  When we approached Philadelphia, some people 76

  The Work of Wildfoot

  on horseback turned and galloped towards us. As they came nearer, I saw that two of them were women, one of whom I recognized as Miss Desmond. They were accompanied by two British officers whom I had seen at the banquet, Colonel Ingram and Major Parsons. The other young woman I learned afterwards was the -laughter of a rich Tory of Philadelphia.

  Belfort rode forward to meet them, and Marcel and I followed, though at a somewhat slacker pace. We could take this privilege, as we were now within the lines. I judged that the officers and the ladies had been taking a ride for the sake of the air and the exercise, and such proved to be the case.

  " Here conies Blake's expedition," exclaimed Ingram, as they rode up, " and I see wounded men. Verily I believe we have taken the rebel Wildfoot at last."

  " Is it true, Lieutenant Belfort ? " asked Miss Desmond. " Has the robber Wildfoot been taken ? "

  Belfort was thrown into a state of embarrassment by this question, to which he knew he must return an unwelcome answer ; and he hesitated, pulling uneasily at his bridle-rein. But Marcel, the readi- ness of whose wit was equalled only by his lack of a sense of responsibility, spoke up.

  " I fear, Miss Desmond," he said, " that we have but sad news. The wounded men you see are not rebels, but our own. As for Mr. Wildfoot the robber, we su
spect that he has had fine entertain- ment at our expense. Of a certainty he gave us all the sport we wanted."

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  " It was a trick, a dastard American trick ! " ex- claimed Belfort. " They gave us no chance."

  "Then you have not captured this Wildfoot?" asked Miss Desmond.

  " No," replied Marcel. " He came much nearer to capturing us, and in addition he has taken off our wagon-train, provisions, bullocks, drivers, and all, which I dare say will be welcome food to the Americans, drivers included, for we hear that they are starving."

  " They did not stay to fight us to the end," broke in Belfort, " but ran away with the spoil."

  " No doub t they had obtained all they wanted," said Miss Desmond, dryly. " Do not forget, Lieu- tenant Belfort, that, however misguided my coun- trymen may be, they are able to meet anybody in battle, Englishmen not excepted."

  " For you to say anything makes it true," said Belfort.

  " You should also take note," said Marcel, " that Miss Desmond is more chivalrous than some other opponents of the Americans."

  " T do not take your full meaning," said Belfort.

  " It is easy enough to understand it," said Marcel. " Miss Desmond gives to our enemies the credit for the bravery and skill which they have shown so plainly that they possess."

  " I think you have taken a very long journey for strange purposes," said Belfort, " if you have come all the way from England to defend the rebels and to insult the officers of the king."

  A fierce quarrel between them might have occurred 78

  The Work of Wildfoot

  then, for it was breeding fast, but Miss Desmond interfered.

  " If you say any more upon tins subject, gentlemen," she said, " I shall not speak to either of you again."

  " Where no other penalty might prevent us, Miss Desmond," said Marcel, with a low bow, " that of a surety will."

  Marcel was a graceless scamp, but I always envied his skill at saying things which fitted the matter in hand.

  Our shot-riddled party had now come up, and while the colonel and the major were receiving the full story from Barton, I found myself for a few moments the only attendant upon Miss Desmond.

  " Since I can now do it without risk of sudden death, our friend Lieutenant Belfort being absent, I assure you again that your countrymen showed great bravery and military skill in our action with them," I said.

  "The appearance of your column," she replied, looking pityingly at the wounded soldiers, " is proof that you came off none too well."

  " It would be better," I said, " to avow the full truth, that we were sadly beaten."

  " Lieutenant Melville," she said, " why are you so quick in the defence and even the praise of the rebels? Such is not the custom of most of the British officers. It seems strange to me."

  " Does it seem more strange," I asked, " than the fact that you, an American, espouse the cause of the British?"

  The question appeared to cause her some embar- 79 .

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  rassment. Her lip quivered, and an unusual though very becoming redness came into her face. But in a moment she recovered her self-possession.

  "If you had been born an American, Lieutenant Melville," she asked, " would you have fought with the Americans ? ' . " The question is unfair," I answered hastily.

  " Then let the subject be changed," she said ; and changed it was. In a few more minutes we entered the city, where the news we brought, and the abun- dant evidence of its truth that we likewise brought with us, carried much disturbance, and I may also add joy too, for there were many good and loyal pa- triots among the civilians of Philadelphia, and some who feared not to show their feelings in the face of the whole British army.

  My rescue of Blake, more the result of impulse than of resolution, came in for much praise, which I would rather not have had, and of which I was in secret not a little ashamed. But there was naught for me to do but to receive it with a good grace, in which effort I was much aided by the knowledge that the incident formed a coat of armor against any suspicions that Belfort might have formed.

  "Well, Lieutenant Melville," said Marcel, as we were returning to our quarters, "you have distin- guished yourself to-day and established yourself in the esteem of your fellow-Britons."

  "And you," I said, "have almost quarrelled with one of these same Britons, who hates us both already and would be glad to see us hanged."

  " My chief regret," replied Marcel, " is that it was

  The Work of Wildfoot

  not a quarrel in fact. It would be the pleasantest task of my life to teach our haughty Norman noble- man a lesson in manners."

  " Such lessons might prove to be very dangerous to us just now," I remarked.

  " This one would be worth all the risk," replied he.

  I saw that he was obstinate upon the point, and so I said no more about it.

  SI

  CHAPTER Six A Cousin from England

  BY the time we regained our quarters that afternoon I was feeling decidedly serious. In adopting the wild suggestion of Marcel and riding into Philadelphia in British red, I had never expected such a complication as this. We were to do our work quickly, ride away and be with our own again, in true colors. But the inch had become a yard, and here we were, involved al- ready in a perfect network of circumstances. Some one who knew the real Melville and Montague might arrive at any moment, and then what would become of us? Walking on bayonet points may be well enough as a novelty, for a moment or two, but as a regular thing I prefer solid ground.

  I know that I looked exceedingly glum, but Marcel's face was careless and gay. In truth the sit- uation seemed to delight him.

  " Marcel ! " I exclaimed, " why did the Lord create such a rattle-brained, South-Carolina, Irish-French American as you ? "

  " Probably he did it to ease his mind after creating you," he replied, and continued humming a dance air. His carelessness and apparent disregard of con- sequences annoyed me, but I remained silent.

  " If I were you, Bob," he said presently, " I 'd leave to old man Atlas the task of carrying the earth on 33

  A Cousin from Rngland

  liis buck. He 's been doing it a lung time and knows his business. A beginner like you might miscalculate the weight, and think what a terrible smash up we'd have then ! Moreover, I don't see what we have to worry about ! "

  " I don't see what we don't have to worry about ! " I replied.

  " I 'm sure that I have nothing," he continued calmly. " I know of no young man who is better placed than my own humble self. Behold me, the Honorable Charles Montague, heir to the noble estate of Bridgewater Hall in England, a captain in the finest army on the planet, comfortably quartered in the good city of Philadelphia, which is full of gallant men and handsome women. I already have friends here in abundance, and a reputation, too, that is not so bad. I am satisfied, and I recommend you, Lieu- tenant Melville, who are equally well situated, to ac- cept your blessings and cease these untimely laments.

  4 The lovely Thais sits beside thee. Take the goods the Gods provide thee I*"

  He looked at me with such an air of satisfaction and conceit that I was compelled to laugh. Of course that was an end of all attempts to argue with Phil Marcel, and nothing was left to me but resignation.

  " You don't complain of your company, do you ? " he asked.

  " I do not," I replied ; " the English officers are a jolly lot, a fine set, I will say, if they are our enemies ; aud it 's a pity we have to fight them, all 83

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  except Belfort, who I know does not like us and who I believe suspects us."

  Marcel looked grave for a moment.

  "Yes, Belfort's the possible thorn in our side," he said ; " but your saving Blake as I have told you once before has been a great advertisement for us. You did that well, Bob, very well for you, though not as gracefully as I would have done it if the chance had been mine. Can you tell why it is, Bob, that I al- ways hav
e the merit and you always have the luck? "

  " Perhaps it 's because, if you had both, your con- ceit would set the Delaware on fire."

  Catron and Vivian came in, a half-hour later, and urged us to spend the evening at the former's quar- ters, where we would meet all the men whom we knew, for a good time. They would accept no ex- cuse. Marcel's spontaneous wit and gayety made him a favorite wherever he went, and I was a tem- porary hero through that happy chance of the Blake affair, and so we were in demand. Secretly I was not unwilling, and Marcel certainly was not. This lively, luxurious, and careless life, this companionship of young men who knew all the ways and gossip and pleasant manners of the great world, took instant hold of me, and I felt its charm powerfully. Hav- ing gone so far, it seemed to me the best thing we could now do was to do as those around us did, until our own opportunity came.

  I do not speak of the luxurious and unmilitary

  life of the British in Philadelphia that season in any

  spirit of criticism, or with a desire to call special

  attention to it as something extraordinary. If the

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  case had been reversed, the American army probably would have done the same thing. Nearly all the English generals regarded the rebellion as dead or dying, and many Americans were of the same opin- ion. Then why not let it die without being helped on by slaughter? Moreover, many of the British officers had no feeling of personal hostility whatever towards us, and all of us know, or ought to know, and remember with gratitude, that a powerful party in England defended us to the end.