Lucy Foster Madison

“Ours are no hirelings trained to the fight,
With cymbal and clarion, all glittering and bright;
No prancing of chargers, no martial display;
No war-trump is heard from our silent array.
O’er the proud heads of our freemen our star-banner
waves;
Men, firm as their mountains, and still as their
graves.”

—T. Graves.

Although each member of the little party had borne himself well in the face of peril, now each one found himself in the utter exhaustion that follows unusual stress of mind or body. It was no longer possible to lighten the tediousness of travel by conversation, and for this reason the remainder of the journey seemed long and exceedingly wearisome. Had conditions been other than they were both Peggy and Sally would have noticed the broad morasses which bisected the wide plains they were now traversing. They would have exclaimed at the acres of reeds which covered the vast extent of these marshes, and at the wild fowl which rose in clouds from them; for already the ducks were flying. They would have discussed how these swamps became dangerous quagmires at a later season, and how the sandy soil, now so firm and solid under its blanket of snow, would become soft and yielding so that horses could scarce travel through it.

All these things failed to rouse them from the weariness that held them. The over-hanging branches of the leafless trees arched over the highway, and obscured the light of the westering sun. Further on, the road left the forest and ran by open fields and hedgerows of cultivated lands. It was not until they had passed through a low lying plain, and crossed the broad marsh which separated it from the wooded heights of Freehold that it occurred to any of them that they were passing over the battle-ground of Monmouth. Then, as the high peaked roof of the court-house came into view, Nurse Johnson roused herself.

“Is it not somewhere hereabouts that the Battle of Monmouth was fought?” she asked. “Methinks I remember ’twas at the seat of Monmouth County that His Excellency’s forces overtook the English.”

“Yes.” Fairfax looked about him. “The hottest part of the battle occurred at yon parsonage; although I’ve heard that there was hard fighting over the entire plain.”

“Oh, don’t talk of battles,” broke in Sally glancing about fearfully. “Every bush and tree seems but made to hide an enemy.”

“Give me pardon, my dear,” spoke Nurse Johnson contritely. “’Tis small wonder that you wish not to hear of battles after the experience of the day. I make no doubt but that all of us will be glad when we are within the sheltering walls of a house. Are we almost there, son?”

“Yes, mother. ’Tis just beyond the village a short distance, though I know not in which direction the farm lies. I will have to inquire at the tavern.”

The amber light of dusk was tipping the trees when the youth turned from the highway into the wooded road leading to his uncle’s dwelling. The farmhouse was gray and weather-beaten, set in a circle of cleared land, and ringed by the forest. There was something about the well-sweep, the orchard, the gardens, that spoke of neglect and desolation, and Peggy felt a chill go through her as she noted no stir of life about the place. From the open doors of the barn came no movement of restless horse, or low of cattle. Not a twitter nor cheep from the hen-house broke the quiet that brooded over everything. Though it was still early twilight the wooden shutters were tightly closed, and had it not been for the light which streamed through their crescentic openings the house would have been deemed deserted. The girl started nervously as a night-owl hooted suddenly from a near-by thicket.

“I wonder if they are at home?” she mused aloud.

“Why, of course they are, Peggy,” answered Sally. “Does thee not see the light?”

“Yes; but——” began Peggy, and paused expectantly as Fairfax, who had alighted, knocked loudly upon the door.

It was a full moment before a reply came; then a man’s voice demanded sharply:

“What’s wanted?”

“’Tis your nephew, Uncle Tom,” answered the lad cheerily.

“Nephew, heigh? I haven’t any in this part of the country. You can’t put in a take-off like that on Tom Ashley. Clear out! My firelock’s ready.”

“Well, this is a fine welcome, I must say,” cried Nurse Johnson indignantly. “Write for us to come all the way from Virginia to visit you, and then find a firelock ready for us. I don’t think much of such doings, Tom Ashley!”

“Why a pox on me!” came in excited accents from behind the closed door. “Didst hear that, Mary? That’s Hannah Johnson’s voice as sure as preaching. It must be Hannah and her boy.”

There followed the rattle of a chain, the drawing of bolts, then the door was flung wide, and the light from a blazing fire in the fireplace threw into strong relief the forms of a man and a woman standing on the threshold.

“Have in, have in,” cried the man genially. “Mary, see to the opening of the stable while I bring the folks in. Ye are as welcome as the spring would be, though ye did give us a great scare. ’Twas a most unmannerly greeting, but ’twas not meant for ye. The times are such that no man dares to open his door to a visitor when dark is coming on without he knows who ’tis. This is a surprise. I had writ ye not to come.”

“You had, uncle?” queried Fairfax as they shook hands. Thomas Ashley had left the door by this time, and now stood beside the sleigh. “When? We did not get it.”

“’Tis not to be wondered at considering the state of the country. I sent it the last of January. Still, so long as ye didn’t get it I’m glad ye are here. So you brought your sweetheart along, heigh? Which one is she?”

A ripple of laughter rose to Peggy’s lips at the remark. Her spirits had revived as soon as she understood that their reception was due to caution rather than to the lack of welcome, and she spoke roguishly as the farmer assisted her out of the sleigh:

“We did not bring her, friend. Thy nephew hath had to content himself with Sally and me because Betty could not come.”

“I’ll warrant the boy hath not found the consolation irksome,” laughed Mr. Ashley. A twinkle came into his eye as he noted the youth’s blushes and the mischievous glances of the girls. “Well, well,” he said, “ye are welcome anyway. Now, Hannah, go right in with these girls while nevvy helps me with the horses.”

“You surely don’t keep that barn door open when there are horses inside, do you, Tom?” Nurse Johnson’s disapproval of the lax fastening of the barn was plainly evident in her tones.

“It won’t make any difference, Hannah, whether ’tis fastened or not. If there’s horses there somebody gets them anyway. We leave the door open to save them the trouble of breaking the bolt.”

“Then why do we put the horses there?” queried Fairfax in blank consternation.

“We don’t, nevvy.” The farmer chuckled. “If we did we wouldn’t have them long. Wait a minute. There! There’s Mary now.”

The dwelling was a story and a half house, with a lean-to attached to one end. Just as Farmer Ashley finished speaking the whole front of the lean-to swung open in a great door, disclosing an aperture large enough to admit both horses and sleigh. Mrs. Ashley emerged from the dark interior as the door swung back, and came toward them.

“Well, that is a contrivance,” ejaculated Nurse Johnson after she had greeted her sister. “Who would think of finding a stable right in the house?”

“’Tis the only way we can keep a horse,” explained the farmer’s wife. “’Tis right next the kitchen, so we know the minute anything is wrong, if we have a horse there; which we have not at present. We believe that no one outside the family knows of its use for such purpose, and ’tis something to have a hiding-place for animals. But come in! Here we stand talking, and you must be both cold and hungry. Come, Hannah! And ye also, my dears. I am glad that the supper is belated to-night, for now ’twill be hot, which is well after a long journey.”

Thus talking she led them into the house, carefully bolting the door after them. A door on one side the chimney gave entrance to the lean-to. Another, on the other side of the room, opened into another apartment, but the kitchen itself seemed to be the main living-room. It was large and roomy, and a table drawn up before the hearth was spread for the evening meal. A great fire of pine boughs blazed in the deep-throated fireplace filling the room with fragrance and cheerfulness. The maidens ran to it with exclamations of pleasure.

“Oh!” cried Sally with a deep breath. “How pleasant and homey it is. I feel as though this afternoon were a dreadful dream, and that naught could befall us here. Dost see, Peggy? There is a quilt on the frame. ’Twill be a fine chance to teach Captain Johnson the stitches. ’Twill give him relaxation from military duty.”

“He will have small time for relaxation, I fear me,” spoke the farmer entering at this moment with Fairfax from the lean-to. “There is to be great activity in the army this summer, I hear. ’Tis to be hoped that something will be done to help us. The Jerseys have suffered greatly in the war, and Monmouth County more than the rest of the state put together.”

“We had a taste of what you are going through this afternoon,” Fairfax informed them quietly. “We were set upon by robbers, and had it not been for the opportune coming of some state dragoons you would not have had to give us welcome.”

“Robbers!” exclaimed the farmer and his wife simultaneously. “Why did you not tell us sooner? Was any one hurt?”

“No,” answered the youth. “Of course we were upset, which is small cause for wonderment.”

“Tell us about it, nevvy,” began Thomas Ashley eagerly, but his wife interposed:

“Now, father, if no one hath received a hurt let’s eat before the supper gets cold. A good story will keep better than hot victuals. We shall have the night to talk in. ’Tis a long journey from Virginia, and belike they are hungry. But first, Hannah, tell us who these young friends are.”

“Mercy on me, Mary,” gasped Nurse Johnson, drawing the girls forward. “I clear forgot my manners. This is Mistress Margaret Owen, who went back with me to Williamsburgh when I was here last year. I have writ you anent her visit, as I make no doubt you remember. And this is her friend, Mistress Sarah Evans. She hath been ailing of late, and methought the change would be of benefit. We call them Peggy and Sally.”

“You are both welcome,” said the hostess warmly, “though I would the times were not so troublous. What with the pine robbers, the freebooters and the Tories we are in daily dread of attack.”

“A plague take the rascals,” cried Mr. Ashley excitedly. “No man’s life, liberty, or property is safe these days. We are set upon in the fields, and upon the highways. Our dwellings are sacked and burned, and we are thankful if life is left. I tell ye,” he cried bringing down his fist upon the table with so much vim that the dishes rattled, “I tell ye New Jersey hath stood the brunt of the war. She hath been, and is now, the battle-field of the new nation. Things have come to such a pass that some way, somehow, relief must be had from these internal enemies.”

“But hath nothing been done to rid the state of them?” asked the youth.

“Done? Everything hath been done, nevvy. We have not only furnished our quota of men to the main army, but also formed companies of militia, both cavalry and infantry, to fight these pests. The Legislature is endeavoring to establish a strict patrol of the coast and the highways. In addition, we men who are too old for constant service have formed an association to retaliate upon our greatest enemies, the Tories, and to go out as necessity demands. Why, think of it! Up there in New York City are many of our friends and neighbors formed into a corps called The Associated Loyalists, under the leadership of our former governor, William Franklin. An unworthy son of a great father! At his command this corps harasses the state at will. Knowing the country ’tis easy for it to slip in where the greatest harm can be done, and out it goes before we know ’tis here. Staten Island and Sandy Hook are handy refuges for such raiders. We might handle the robbers, could we be rid of these incursions. We hoped for peace after Yorktown, but the depredations are now worse than ever. Something must be done, for New Jersey’s very existence is threatened.”

“There seems to be a need of men,” remarked the young man musingly. “When am I to report for duty, Uncle Tom?”

Mr. Ashley turned toward him quickly.

“There is need of men,” he said. “Your commission was to be with the regular army, if you wanted it so. Colonel Elias Dayton, who now commands the Jersey Brigade at Chatham, wants every man to report for duty this month. But——”

“But what, Uncle Tom?” asked Fairfax as the farmer paused abruptly.

“But I wish ye’d stay in Monmouth, nevvy. We need every man we can get to help us defend our homes. We have sent and sent to the main army until we are almost stripped of fighting men. General Washington may have to go against the English this summer, and then again he may have to lie inactive. It all depends upon the instructions which England will give to the new general who is to supersede Clinton. Of course, with a campaign there would be more chance for glory with the regular line. Such distinction as that must appeal to a lad of parts; but, boy, New Jersey needs you. Why, Washington depends on us for flour, and how can we raise the grain when we are shot down as we plow the fields? A man can do service, and great service, right here in the militia. There won’t be much glory, nevvy, but there will be plenty of action. In Freehold there is a company now of twenty-five twelvemonth boys that needs a captain. The Legislature will gladly give you the commission. Now, nevvy, the choice is with you. What will you do?”

The youth let his head fall upon his breast in thought. The supper had long since been finished, and the other members of the group sat interested listeners to the conversation between uncle and nephew. Peggy looked at the young fellow wonderingly. A captain’s commission in the regular army was to be desired. She remembered how John Drayton had had to serve for years to obtain one. Such an office gave a rank that no militia could offer. Could any youth deliberately cast aside the distinction? A glance at Fairfax gave no clue to his mental attitude. It seemed a long time that he sat there meditating, but presently he looked up and met the questioning gaze of Thomas Ashley with a smile.

“The greatest need seems to be right here,” he said. “I think I’d like to help clear out the Tories, and to get a whack at those pine robbers. I have a reckoning to settle with them on my own account. This field will suit me all right.”

“Good for you, nevvy,” cried his uncle in a shout. “I thought you’d do it. You are a lad after my own heart. Still, it is only fair that you should know that your task will be fraught with danger. The Tories single out for vengeance any man who fights with unction against them. Let him proceed with too much ardor and he becomes a marked man.”

“That is true in any part of the country, uncle, as well as in New Jersey,” was the lad’s rejoinder. “I am ready for whatever goes with the work.”

But at this there came a cry from his mother:

“Tom Ashley, what are you getting my boy into?”

“Nothing that my own boys have not endured, Hannah. One fell in the great battle on yonder plain near the court-house, and lies now in Freehold burying-ground. The other, Charley, made the same choice as your boy, and is down at Tom’s River helping to defend old Monmouth.”

“But oh——” she began when Fairfax interrupted her:

“It’s all right, mother. It means no more danger than I’d have to encounter with the regular army, or than I have already faced in the militia at home.”

“It may be,” she answered, but her eyes were troubled. “It may be.”

“It waxes late,” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley glancing at Sally whose eyelids were drooping in spite of herself. “These girls, at least, are ready for bed; and to bed they must go.”

And without heeding their protests the good woman hurried them up to a little room under the eaves, nor would she depart until they were tucked warmly in the great feather-bed. Sally’s drowsiness left her as soon as she found herself alone with Peggy.

“Peggy,” she whispered, snuggling close to her friend, “what does thee think of it all?”

“’Tis like the Carolinas and Virginia were,” returned Peggy soberly. “Oh, Sally! is it not awful that men should so hunt and hound each other? The poor people of the states have stood so much that ’tis marvelous that any are left for resistance. Nurse Johnson whispered to me that she should not feel easy until we were back in Philadelphia.”

“Would that we were,” said Sally earnestly. “Peggy!”

“Yes, Sally.”

“I was afraid this afternoon when the robbers attacked us. What if I were to be fearful all the time?”

“We must not be, Sally,” spoke Peggy quickly. “’Twould wherrit these kind friends if we were to show fear. They will take excellent care of us, and take us home soon, I make no doubt.”

“Isn’t thee ever afraid, Peggy?”

“Why, yes; of course,” answered Peggy. “Every one is, I think. But mother told me once never to anticipate trouble, and so I try not to think about what might happen. We must be bright and cheerful whatever occurs. It should be easy for thee, Sally. Thee is always happy in the hospital.”

“That is because I have something to do,” responded Sally sagely. “If one is so busy that one has no time to think one can’t be afraid.”

“I make no doubt then thee will soon have plenty to occupy thee when Fairfax joins his company, Sally.”

Sally laughed as Peggy had intended she should.

“I like Fairfax,” she said with emphasis. “But didst notice, Peggy? He spoke not once to either of us after we entered the house. Truly, his diffidence doth envelop him like a mantle; yet, when those robbers were giving us chase, he had no difficulty in telling us just what to do. Indeed, he was then as much at ease in speaking to us as thy father or Robert would have been.”

“Then he was doing ‘man’s duty,’” laughed Peggy. “’Tis marvelous how an emergency doth make him shed his shyness.”

“I like him,” repeated Sally. “In very truth, Peggy Owen, doth thee not consider him the very nicest lad that we know?”

“And yet,” observed Peggy meditatively, addressing the darkness, “methinks there was a girl, not a hundred miles from this very bed, who told me that she agreed with my Cousin Harriet that Clifford excelled all other youths.”

“I am going to sleep,” announced Sally, turning over hastily. “Does thee not think it time? We had a wearisome journey.”

Peggy giggled appreciatively.

“That was a well directed shot,” she remarked, “since it hath reduced the ranks to silence.”