It was, I fancy, because Tom had from childhood adored her so much, that he now took her conduct so ill, and showed upon occasion a bitterness that he never manifested over any other subject.
"What do you mean, you saucy boy?" cried she, turning red, and looking mighty handsome. "You might take a lesson or two in manners from some of the scarlet coats!"
"Egad, they wouldn"t find time to give me lessons, being so busy with you! But which of your teachers do you recommend--Captain Andre, Lord Rawdon, Colonel Campbell, or the two Germans whose names I can"t p.r.o.nounce? By George, you won"t be happy till you have Sir Henry Clinton and General Knyphausen disputing for the front place at your feet!"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE WAS INDEED THE TOAST OF THE ARMY."]
She softened from anger to a little laugh of conscious triumph, tapped him with her fan, and sped up the stairs. Her prediction had come true. She was indeed the toast of the army. Her mother apparently saw no scandal in this, being blinded by her own partiality to the royal side. Her father knew it not, for he rarely attended the British festivities, from which he could not in reason debar his wife and daughters. f.a.n.n.y was too innocent to see harm in what her sister did.
But Tom and I, though we never spoke of it to each other, were made sensitive, by our friendship for Philip, to the impropriety of the situation--that the wife of an absent American officer should reign as a beauty among his military enemies. I make no doubt but the circ.u.mstance was commented upon, with satirical smiles at the expense of both husband and wife, by the British officers themselves. Indeed I once heard her name mentioned, not as Mrs. Winwood, but as "Captain Winwood"s wife," with an expression of voice that made me burn to plant my fist in the leering face of the fellow who spoke--some low-born dog, I"ll warrant, who had paid high for his commission.
It was a custom of Tom"s and mine to put ourselves, when off duty together, in the way of more active service than properly fell to us, by taking horse and riding to the eastern side of the Harlem River, where was quartered the troop of Tom"s relation, James De Lancey. In more than one of the wild forays of these hors.e.m.e.n, did we take an unauthorised part, and find it a very exhilarating business.
One cold December afternoon in 1778, we got private word from Captain De Lancey that he was for a raid up the Albany road, that night, in retaliation for a recent severe onslaught made upon our Hessian post near Colonel Van Cortlandt"s mansion, either ("twas thought) by Lee"s Virginia Light Horse or by the partisan troop under the French n.o.bleman known in the rebel service as Armand.
At nightfall we were on the gallop with De Lancey"s men, striking the sparks from the stony road under a cloudy sky. But these troops, accustomed to darkness and familiar with the country, found the night not too black for their purpose, which was, first, the seizing of some cattle that two or three Whig farmers had contrived to retain possession of, and, second, the surprising of a small advanced post designed to protect rebel foragers. The first object was fairly well accomplished, and a detail of men a.s.signed to conduct the prizes back to Kingsbridge forthwith, a difficult task for which those upon whom it fell cursed their luck, or their commander"s orders, under their breath. One of the farmers, for stubbornly resisting, was left tied to a tree before his swiftly dismantled house, and only Captain De Lancey"s fear of alarming the rebel outpost prevented the burning down of the poor fellow"s barn.
The taking of these cattle had necessitated our leaving the highway.
To this we now returned, and proceeded Northward to where the road crosses the Neperan River, near the Philipse manor-house. Instead of crossing this stream, we turned to the right, to follow its left bank some way upward, and then ascended the hill East of it, on which the rebel post was established. Our course, soon after leaving the road, lay through woods, the margin of the little river affording us only sufficient clear s.p.a.ce for proceeding in single file. De Lancey rode at the head, then went two of his men, then Tom Faringfield and myself, the troop stringing out behind us, the lieutenant being at the rear.
"Twas slow and toilsome riding; and only the devil"s own luck, or some marvellous instinct of our horses, spared us many a stumble over roots, stones, twigs, and underbrush. What faint light the night retained for well-accustomed eyes, had its source in the cloud-curtained moon, and that being South of us, we were hidden in the shadow of the woods. But "tis a thousand wonders the noise of our pa.s.sage was not sooner heard, though De Lancey"s stern command for silence left no sound possible from us except that of our horses and equipments. I fancy "twas the loud murmur of the stream that shielded us. But at last, as we approached the turning of the water, where we were to dismount, surround the rebels hutted upon the hill before us, creep silently upon them, and attack from all sides at a signal, there was a voice drawled out of the darkness ahead of us the challenge:
"Who goes thar?"
We heard the click of the sentinel"s musket-lock; whereupon Captain De Lancey, in hope of gaining the time to seize him ere he could give the alarm, replied, "Friends," and kept riding on.
"You"re a liar, Jim De Lancey!" cried back the sentinel, and fired his piece, and then (as our ears told us) fled through the woods, up the hill, toward his comrades.
There was now nothing for us but to abandon all thought of surrounding the enemy, or even, we told ourselves, of taking time to dismount and bestow our horses; unless we were willing to lose the advantage of a surprise at least partial, as we were not. We could but charge on horseback up the hill, after the fleeing sentinel, in hope of coming upon the rebels but half-prepared. Or rather, as we then felt, so we chose to think, foolish as the opinion was. Indeed what could have been more foolish, less military, more like a tale of fabulous knights in some enchanted forest? A cavalry charge, with no sort of regular formation, up a wooded hill, in a night dark enough in the open but sheer black under the thick boughs; to meet an encamped enemy at the top! But James De Lancey"s men were noted rather for reckless dash than for military prudence; they felt best on horseback, and would accept a score of ill chances and fight in the saddle, rather than a dozen advantages and go afoot. I think they were not displeased at their discovery by the sentinel, which gave them an excuse for a harebrained onset ahorse, in place of the tedious manoeuvre afoot that had been planned. As for Tom and me, we were at the age when a man will dare the impossible.
So we went, trusting to the sense of our beasts, or to dumb luck, to carry us unimpeded through the black woods. As it was, a few of the animals ran headforemost against trees, and others stumbled over roots and logs, while some of the riders had their heads knocked nearly off by coming in contact with low branches. But a majority of us, to judge by the noise we made, arrived with our snorting, panting steeds at the hill-crest; where, in a cleared s.p.a.ce, and fortified with felled trees, upheaved earth, forage carts, and what not, stood the improvised cabins of the rebels.
Three or four shots greeted us as we emerged from the thick wood. We, being armed with muskets and pistols as well as swords, returned the fire, and spurred our horses on toward the low breastwork, which, as it was not likely to have anything of a trench behind it, we thought to overleap either on horse or afoot. But the fire that we met, almost at the very barrier, felled so many of our horses and men, raised such a h.e.l.lish chorus of wild neighing, cries of pain and wrath, ferocious curses and shouts of vengeance, that the men behind reined up uncertain. De Lancey turned upon his horse, waved his sword, and shouted for the laggards to come on. We had only the light of musketry to see by. Tom Faringfield was unhorsed and down; and fearing he might be wounded, I leaped to the ground, knelt, and partly raised him. He was unharmed, however; and we both got upon our feet, with our swords out, our discharged muskets slung round upon our backs, our intent being to mount over the rebel"s rude rampart--for we had got an impression of De Lancey"s sword pointed that way while he fiercely called upon his troops to disregard the fallen, and each man charge for himself in any manner possible, ahorse or afoot.
But more and more of the awakened rebels--we could make out only their dark figures--sprang forward from their huts (mere roofs, "twere better to call these) to the breastwork, each waiting to take careful aim at our mixed-up ma.s.s of men and horses before he fired into it. As Tom and I were extricating ourselves from the ma.s.s by scrambling over a groaning man or two, and a shrieking, kicking horse that lay on its side, De Lancey rode back to enforce his commands upon the men at our rear, some of whom were firing over our heads. His turning was mistaken for a movement of retreat, not only by our men, of whom the unhurt promptly made to hasten down the hill, but also by the enemy, a few of whom now leaped from behind their defence to pursue.
Tom and I, not yet sensible of the action of our comrades, were striding forward to mount the rampart, when this sally of rebels occurred. Though it appalled us at the time, coming so unexpectedly, it was the saving of us; for it stopped the fire of the rebels remaining behind the barrier, lest they should hit their comrades. A ringing voice, more potent than a bugle, now called upon these latter to come back, in a tone showing their movement to have been without orders. They speedily obeyed; all save one, a tall, broad fellow--nothing but a great black figure in the night, to our sight--who had rushed with a clubbed musket straight upon Tom and me.
A vague sense of it circling through the air, rather than distinct sight of it, told me that his musket-b.u.t.t was aimed at Tom"s head.
Instinctively I flung up my sword to ward off the blow; and though of course I could not stop its descent, I so disturbed its direction that it struck only Tom"s shoulder; none the less sending him to the ground with a groan. With a curse, I swung my sword--a cut-and-thrust blade-of-all-work, so to speak--with some wild idea of slicing off a part of the rebel"s head; but my weapon was hacked where it met him, and so it merely made him reel and drop his musket. The darkness falling the blacker after the glare of the firing, must have cloaked these doings from the other rebels. Tom rose, and the two of us fell upon our enemy at once, I hissing out the words, "Call for quarter, you dog!"
"Very well," he said faintly, quite docile from having had his senses knocked out of him by my blow, and not knowing at all what was going on.
"Come then," said I, and grasped him by an arm, while Tom held him at the other side; and so the three of us ran after De Lancey and his men--for the captain had followed in vain attempt to rally them--into the woods and down the hill. Tom"s horse was shot, and mine had fled.
Our prisoner accompanied us with the unquestioning obedience of one whose wits are for the time upon a vacation. Getting into the current of retreat, which consisted of mounted men, men on foot, riderless horses, and the wrathful captain whose enterprise was now quite hopeless through the enemy"s being well warned against a second attempt, we at last reached the main road.
Here, out of a chaotic huddle, order was formed, and to the men left horseless, mounts were given behind other men. Captain De Lancey a.s.signed a beast to myself and my prisoner. The big rebel clambered up behind me, with the absent-minded acquiescence he had displayed ever since my stroke had put his wits asleep. As we started dejectedly Southward, full of bruises, aches, and weariness, there was some question whether the rebels would pursue us.
"Not if their officer has an ounce of sense," said Captain De Lancey, "being without horses, as he is. He"s scarce like to play the fool by coming down, as I did in charging up! Well, we"ve left some wounded to his care. Who is their commander? Ask your prisoner, Lieutenant Russell."
I turned on my saddle and put the query, but my man vouchsafed merely a stupid, "Hey?"
"Shake him back to his senses," said De Lancey, stopping his horse, as I did mine, and Tom his.
But shaking did not suffice.
"This infernal darkness helps to cloud his wits," suggested the captain. "Flash a light before his eyes. Here, Tippet, your lantern, please."
I continued shaking the prisoner, while the lantern was brought.
Suddenly the man gave a start, looked around into the black night, and inquired in a husky, small voice:
"Who are you? Where are we?"
"We are your captors," said I, "and upon the Hudson River road, bound for Kingsbridge. And now, sir, who are you?"
But the rays of the lantern, falling that instant upon his face, answered my question for me.
"Cornelius!" I cried.
"What, sir? Why--"tis Mr. Russell!"
"Ay, and here is Tom Faringfield," said I.
"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed the pedagogue, grasping the hand that Tom held to him out of the darkness.
"Mr. Cornelius, since that is your name," put in De Lancey, to whom time was precious. "Will you please tell us who commands yonder, where we got the reception our folly deserved, awhile ago?"
"Certainly, sir," said Cornelius. ""Tis no harm, I suppose--no violation of duty or custom?"
"Not in the least," said I.
"Why then, sir," says he, "since yesterday, when we relieved the infantry there--we are dragoons, sir, though dismounted for this particular service--a new independent troop, sir--Winwood"s Horse--"
"Winwood"s!" cried I.
"Ay, Captain Winwood"s--Mr. Philip, you know--"tis he commands our post yonder."
"Oh, indeed!" said De Lancey, carelessly. "A relation of mine by marriage."
But for a time I had nothing to say, thinking how, after these years of separation, Philip and I had come so near meeting in the night, and known it not; and how, but for the turn of things, one of us might have given the other his death-blow unwittingly in the darkness.
CHAPTER IX.
_Philip"s Adventures--Captain Falconer Comes to Town._
Upon the way back to our lines, we were entertained by Mr. Cornelius with an account of Philip"s movements during the past three years. One piece of information interested Captain De Lancey: the recent attack upon Van Wrumb"s Hessians, which it had been our purpose that night to revenge, was the work of Winwood"s troop of horse. Our curiosity upon hearing of Philip as a captain of independent cavalry, who had left us as a lieutenant of New York foot, was satisfied in the course of the pedagogue"s narrative. The tutor himself had received promotion upon two sides: first, to the Presbyterian ministry, his admission thereto having occurred while he was with the rebel army near Morristown, New Jersey, the last previous Winter but one; second, to the chaplaincy of Winwood"s troop.