Lucy Foster Madison

“What boots the oft-repeated tale of strife,
The feast of vultures, and the waste of life?

*****

In either cause, one rage alone possess’d
The empire of the alternate victor’s breast;
And they that smote for freedom or for sway,
Deem’d few were slain while more remain to slay.”

—Byron.

Peggy cast a fleeting glance backward, and the rich bloom of her cheeks faded to paleness as she saw what amazing progress the horsemen had made. Their own horses had been on the road since early morning, and should the beasts of their pursuers be fresher she feared for the result. With this reflection she cast aside her scruples and, taking the whip out of its socket, let it fall in a stinging cut. The horses leaped under the lash, then steadied to a rapid trot. Far behind sounded a faint halloa, but she did not turn her head. The horses demanded all her attention. How far away that farmhouse seemed! Could they reach it before these lawless wretches overtook them? They must. Again she let the lash fall, and the horses were off in a mad gallop.

In some manner Sally and Fairfax contrived to exchange places, and with stern set features the youth sat watching the rapid advance of the enemy, his musket ready for instant use. There were two guns. His mother held the other, and the ammunition lay on the seat between them. Not one of the little party voiced the thought that was in their minds, for each one realized the awful consequences that would follow capture by these desperadoes.

During the latter part of the Revolution there had sprung into existence a class of men which might be termed banditti. They were marauding bands which were restrained from robbery and outrage by no military authority. They infested the woods and preyed upon lone travelers, or small parties journeying upon the highways, and desolated solitary farmhouses at will. No outrage was too great for them to commit. Each state had its quota of these lawless wretches which superadded to the horrors of war.

The state of New Jersey was particularly beset, owing to its geographical situation between the two large cities of New York and Philadelphia. The pines of Monmouth County, in whose boundaries Peggy and her friends now were, afforded a safe hiding-place for numbers of such robbers. They had caves burrowed in the sand-hills near the margin of swamps in the most secluded situations, which were covered with brush so as to be undiscoverable. The inhabitants were kept in a state of constant terror by their visitations, for the object of such visits was to plunder, burn and murder. The farmers were obliged to carry their muskets with them even into the fields. After Yorktown their depredations ceased for a time, but as the British government delayed peace their atrocities were renewed. It was a mongrel crew of this character that was giving chase to the sleigh and its occupants. They were easily recognized by their accouterments.

On! And on! And on! To Peggy the whole landscape was featureless save for the farmhouse in the far distance. The sand-hills with their pines, and the salt marshes to the eastward blended together in an indistinguishable white blur. The wind whistled in their teeth, a rushing, roaring gale, filled with a salt flavor. Her calash had blown off, and her hair was flying, but the girl was conscious of but one thing which was that the thud of horses’ feet was drawing steadily nearer.

“Faster, Peggy,” cried Fairfax imploringly. “Faster!” As he spoke there came the report of muskets.

A scream burst from Sally’s lips as a bullet fell just short of the sleigh. An answering roar came from Fairfax’s gun, and the unequal fight was on. Peggy dared not look around.

“The whip,” she gasped hoarsely to Sally, for the lash had dropped from her hand and lay in the bed of the sleigh. “The whip.”

In an instant Sally had found it, and leaning over the dashboard she let it fall again and again on the horses. Infuriated at such treatment the animals plunged forward madly, and it was all Peggy could do to guide them. The crossroad leading to the farmhouse was but half a mile distant now. There were clumps of pines bordering it which would afford some protection from the bullets of the enemy. Could they reach it? The road swung to the south abruptly, and the horses took it on a sheer run. The noble animals were at their highest speed and doing their utmost, but to Peggy they seemed to move at snail’s pace. The yelling, shouting band of ruffians was undoubtedly coming closer. It was amazing with what speed they had borne down upon the sleigh, but they were better horsed. Suddenly the outcries took a louder note. A shower of bullets fell about the sleigh, and in agonized tones Fairfax called to the others to get under the seats. Peggy did not know whether Sally and Nurse Johnson obeyed the command or not, but she did not stir. She could not. She was possessed with the determination to reach the crossroad, with its protecting pines. If they could but reach that road! Sally was sobbing, and Peggy’s own breath came gaspingly. She leaned forward, and in utter desperation tried to call to the horses, but her cries were lost in a series of blood-curdling yells from the pursuers.

Fairfax was making a gallant defense, but the odds were greatly against him. It was a miracle that he was not hit by some of the bullets that were falling about them. His own aim had been more fortunate, and three ruffians had toppled from their saddles. Still, it could be but a question of time ere the greater number would be victorious, and that the robbers were aware of this was apparent in their shouts of triumph.

Presently the leader of the band, who was astride a big bay, spurred his horse forward.

“Halt!” he cried. “Halt, young man!” The youth’s reply was a shot, and the bay went down.

A howl of rage arose from the marauders, and they tore down the road like so many demons. Just as the sleigh reached the crossroad two of them dashed past to the heads of the horses, and with shouts of exultation reached out to grasp the bits. And then, from out of the thickets of pines, little jets of smoke puffed forth and the two rascals tumbled to the ground. Before the occupants of the sleigh could realize what had happened a body of twenty or thirty troopers rode from among the trees, and made a dash for the enemy. Fairfax uttered a whoop of joy.

“The Jersey Dragoons!” he cried.

At sight of them the bandits turned to flee, but the dragoons were after them on the run, shouting, yelling, and with pistol-balls flying. All became in an instant a scene of the most lively confusion. Volley after volley the troopers poured into the fleeing ruffians, and here and there men and horses dropped.

The air reeked with the smell of gunpowder, and many riderless horses, snorting with fear and pain, galloped with flying reins up and down the road. The ground was strewn with dead and dying, and the snow was trampled and bloody. The onset of the dragoons was pitiless, incessant, furious; no quarter being given. The state wanted these wretches extirpated, and whenever an encounter took place the conflict was sure to be a sanguinary one. Soon the shattered ranks of the ruffian band scattered for the sand-hills, and the captain, knowing that the bandits would have the advantage once the hills were reached, sounded the recall. Reluctantly, his men gave up the chase.

As the dragoons charged the bandits Fairfax had taken the lines from Peggy, and driven beyond range of the bullets, then stopped to watch the assault. Their escape had been so narrow that none of them could realize that their safety was assured. Peggy and Sally were white and shaken, and Nurse Johnson retained her composure with difficulty. Now as the troopers came up to them they welcomed them with deep gratitude.

“’Twas a close call,” was the captain’s comment to Fairfax. “You were doing nobly, sir, but the odds were hopeless.”

“Had you not come, captain, I dare not think of the result,” said Fairfax with emotion. “There was but one more round of ammunition left when you appeared with your men, though I knew not of it. Mother here was doing the loading, and she did not tell me.”

“I am glad that we happened along,” said the officer. “The highways are not safe these days. Our state troops are doing what we can toward making them so, but good men are scarce and robbers many. ’Twas the merest accident that we chose that spot for our midday meal. We were right in the midst of it when you were seen with those miscreants in pursuit.”

“But,” spoke the youth with some bewilderment, “my uncle wrote that their depredations had ceased since Yorktown.”

“And so they did for a time, but the respite was short. What with these robbers, and the raids of the refugees Jerseymen scarce know which way to turn. The state is in truth sorely tried. Where does your uncle live, and for what place are you bound?”

“Thomas Ashley is my uncle. He lives at Freehold, which should not be many miles distant,” answered Fairfax. “We came to make our home there. That is, my mother and I did. These two young ladies are visitors.”

“Their welcome, while a warm one, is not much to their liking, I’ll warrant,” said the officer with a light laugh, and a quick glance at the pale faces of the maidens. “Well, you will have no more trouble from this on. This stretch of the turnpike is the most dangerous in the county, and once past it one is safe from molestation. Good-bye! A safe journey to you. I think we shall finish that dinner now.”

He would not listen to their thanks, but saluting, wheeled, and rode back to the conflict ground where some troopers were attending to the wounded. Fairfax spoke to the horses, and silently the journey which had had such a tragic interruption was resumed.