Lucy Foster Madison

“Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!
And over the mountains breaks the day;
Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,
There are deeds to be done ere we slumber
to-night!
And whether we fight or whether we fall
By saber-stroke or rifle ball,
The hearts of the free will remember us yet,
And our Country, our Country will never forget.”

—Rossiter Worthington Raymond.

It was not until morning that the farmer and his nephew succeeded in getting control of the fire. When at length it was extinguished only a few charred timbers remained of the lean-to, and the dwelling itself was badly damaged. A heap of ashes marked the spot where the barn had stood, and the scene was one of desolation. The day had come, but there was no glory in the sunshine. The dank smell of early morning rose from the dew-drenched earth, but its freshness and fragrance were marred by the overpowering odor of smoke, and wet, charred wood. In the countless trees of the forest the birds were singing, but their songs fell upon unheeding ears. To the inmates of the farmhouse instead of melody the pines whispered a message of menace and despair.

“And now,” spoke Fairfax Johnson, as Thomas Ashley declared that there was no further danger of fire, “now I am going to see what hath become of my mother.”

“And I’ll go with you, nevvy. You must not think me hard and unfeeling, boy, but just now, when men are so scarce, we cannot afford to lose one unnecessarily. To have gone out to those men would have been certain death for you, and your mother did the best thing that could have been done. To be a patriot demands a great deal of us. To die is a small matter, but how we die is much. Your work is not finished. Until it is, nevvy, your life is not yours to lose needlessly. It belongs to the country. Even though Hannah be captured, it would not follow that aught of harm would come to her. She is a woman. But come!”

“Peggy,” whispered Sally, “Friend Ashley reminds me of Brutus.”

“Yes,” answered Peggy gazing after Fairfax with misty eyes. “Duty to country is first, of course; but sometimes when the heart is torn with anguish over the sacrifice of a loved one it doth seem that duty asks too much of us. Oh, Sally! Sally! will peace ever come? Will the country ever be aught but torn and disrupted by warfare? I cannot bear it.”

“Don’t, Peggy,” came from Sally sharply.

Mrs. Ashley, who was moving about the fire preparing breakfast, came to them quickly. She gave each girl a gentle kiss, and a soft pat, saying:

“Now, now, ’twill not do. After being such brave, helpful girls all night, are ye going to give way now? ’Twill never do, sweetings. For the boy’s sake, ye must be brave. See! I have nice, hot coffee all ready. Run after them, and tell them that I want them to take a cup before going far.”

“And we were going to be so brave,” reminded Sally wiping her eyes.

“’Tis all my fault,” said Peggy, “but ’twas the thought of——”

“Now be quick, or they will be gone too far,” interrupted Mistress Ashley.

The two men were entering the confines of the forest when Peggy called to them:

“Mistress Ashley wishes that ye would take a cup of coffee before going, friends. She hath it already prepared.”

Fairfax shook his head.

“Mother first,” he said. “I could not take anything.”

The tears came again to Peggy’s eyes.

“Yes, yes,” she said chokingly. “Make sure of Friend Nurse’s whereabouts first. How brave she was! How——”

“Did I hear something said anent coffee, Peggy?” came Nurse Johnson’s voice, and from among the trees she came toward them. She was smiling, but her appearance was anything but cheerful. Her face was very pale, her hair was unbound and hung upon her shoulders in a tangled mass; her garments were dew drenched, and she limped painfully. With a bound her son reached her side.

“Mother! mother!” was all he could say.

“I thought ye’d get through, Hannah,” cried Thomas Ashley. “I was just telling the boy so. Mary, Mary! Hannah’s come.”

With cries and exclamations of wonder and joy they gathered about her, heaping caresses upon her until the good woman begged for mercy, declaring that she was hungry, and would have no breath left wherewith to partake of food. Then they bore her into the house, and while Sally and Peggy dressed the sprained ankle, Mrs. Ashley brought coffee, and Mr. Ashley cut great slices of ham, insisting that the occasion warranted a feast. But the son remained by her side as though he feared to leave her. They grew calm finally, and then Nurse Johnson told of her escape.

“’Tis naught to make such a pother about,” she said settling back comfortably in her chair, a cup of coffee in hand. “I knew that Tom wouldn’t be able to hold Fairfax much longer, and I wasn’t going to have those rascals get him if I could help it. Providence was on my side, for I seemed to have wings given me. I didn’t know that I could run so fast, but fear, aided by a few bullets, would develop speed in the most of us, I reckon.

“I had a little start of the Tories, though I knew that I could not keep it, when my foot caught in a vine, or root, and I fell. I tried to get up, but my ankle was sprained so I could not rise. Instead, in my efforts, I began to roll down the declivity, for the ground was slightly rolling where I had fallen, and over and over I went until presently the bottom was reached, and I came to a stop in a little hollow. Something stirred as I rolled into the thicket, and an animal, ’twas too dark to see what it was, though it seemed like a doe, or a fawn, leaped up and bounded away through the forest. I heard the men go crashing after it, and it came to me that if I did not move they might pass on, thinking that the deer was their prey. That is all there is to it. So you see I did naught after all. Save for the mishap of a sprained ankle, and a little chill, I am no worse off than ye are.”

“Oh! but the risk, Friend Nurse,” cried Peggy.

“Was no greater than to stay here. We did not know of a certainty that the men would leave the house in pursuit. It was just a chance, but it happened to work all right. Now, Tom, what shall be done? Do you think the raiders will return?”

“’Tis hard telling, Hannah. Sooner or later they will try to get the boy again. If Edwards is hanged they will stop at nothing to effect his capture. But, Hannah, every man in the company runs the same risk. The thing to do is to have the men make headquarters here. ’Twill be of mutual benefit, for ’twill throw a safeguard about each member of the company.”

“Yes,” she agreed thoughtfully.

“And the girls?” uttered Fairfax. “What of them?”

“Until we have horses we can do naught, nevvy.”

“Then horses we are going to have,” he said with determination. “I shall start for Freehold now to see what can be done. There may be other news of the raiders, too.”

“Go with him, Tom,” cried his mother quickly. “There may be skulkers in the woods.”

But Fairfax would not hear of this.

“Nay, mother,” he said. “Uncle Tom’s place is here. You are in more danger than I am, for the raiders may come back. You had your way last night; this morning ’tis my turn.”

With this he was gone. Some hours later when he returned, astride a bay mare of great beauty, he headed quite a cavalcade. Behind him rode the little company of twelvemonth men and militia of which he was captain; back of these came two large wagons.

“What think you?” he cried waving a folded document excitedly in greeting. “The Council of Safety hath confirmed my commission as captain, and hath ordered me to take the company to Tom’s River to garrison the fort there. The salt works are threatened, and there is some contraband trade to be checked. We came to take you with us.”

“To do what, nevvy?” gasped the farmer, bewildered by the suddenness of the matter.

“To take all of you with us,” repeated the youth, dismounting. “Think you that I could go, and leave you here unprotected? You will be safe there. At least,” he corrected himself, “as safe as ’tis possible to be in Monmouth County. The garrison will afford more security than you would have here. I brought these wagons for the very purpose of taking you. There must be haste, Uncle Tom. We must be off in an hour.”

“But——” began Thomas Ashley protestingly, when his wife interrupted him.

“Why, father! that’s where Charley is. ’Tis the very thing.”

So the youth had his way, and there ensued a busy hour. The wagons were shore wagons, owned by oystermen of Tom’s River who were returning to that village after bringing fish and oysters to the interior, he told them in explanation of the odor that clung to the vehicles. It was great good fortune that they could be had just at this time. Presently, here they were, with Nurse Johnson, comfortably installed upon a feather-bed, Mrs. Ashley and the two girls in one wagon, while the farmer rode in the other to look after such household effects as they were taking.

Both because of Nurse Johnson and the sandy nature of the soil they were obliged to proceed in a leisurely manner, but the family, rejoicing in the sense of security afforded by the presence of an armed escort, minded neither the manner nor the mode of travel. With the buoyancy of youth, Peggy and Sally soon regained their accustomed spirits, and chatted gaily.

Above was the blue and white woof of the spring sky. The plaint of the meadow-lark and the note of the robin sounded sweetly against the stillness of the air. A trio of crows sailed athwart the blue, their great wings beating the air to slow, solemn measure. The pine woodland added shelter and picturesqueness to the road, and to the light breeze its sweet resinous odor. And Fairfax was here, there, everywhere, looking after things with all the zeal of a young officer.

“You are merry,” he said after a time, accommodating the speed of his horse to that of the wagon in which the girls rode. His manner had brightened perceptibly since the beginning of the journey, and he spoke lightly. “Yet I feared that you might be annoyed by the smell of fish. They are oyster wagons, you know.”

“Is it fish that we smell?” cried Sally, laughing for very joyousness, and forgetting to wonder at the unusualness of his addressing them. “Methought it was the pines.”

“Nay; ’tis fish,” he declared. “At what are you looking, Mistress Peggy?”

“I am admiring thy horse,” she replied. “’Tis a beauty. Almost as pretty as my own little mare.”

“Nay,” he protested. “Few animals are that. Star hath not many equals.”

Peggy flushed with pleasure. Praise of her little mare always delighted her.

“Thee can afford to be unstinted in thy praise when thine own mount hath so much of beauty,” she remarked.

“And what has thee named her?” questioned Sally. “It should be something charming.”

“A name hath just occurred to me that is both charming and uncommon,” he responded, meeting her glance without blushing. It was the first time that she had seen him so much at ease in ordinary intercourse, Peggy reflected marveling. “I think,” continued the youth, “that no other horse ever bore it.”

“Then it must be unusual,” declared Sally. “Thee makes me very curious, Friend Fairfax. What is it?”

“Marsal,” he answered. A twinkle came into his eyes as he added: “After Margaret and Sally: Marsal!” Saluting, he passed on to the head of the column.

There was a gasp of surprise from the maidens, then a peal of laughter followed, so mirthful that Nurse Johnson and her sister joined it.

“He hath the best of us, Peggy,” cried Sally. “But who would have dreamed that he had it in him?”

“Of a truth he hath improved markedly,” agreed Peggy. “I fear me that we shall have to change our tactics, Sally.”

“’Tis not that he hath lost his diffidence, girls, but the reaction from fear of danger to us hath rendered him light-hearted,” declared the lad’s mother. “He is so relieved that ’tis easy to jest.”

And this was the case with them all. So merrily the journey proceeded. The incubus of fear was lifted from them for the time, and a certain joyousness of expression was the natural result. It was twenty-five miles from Monmouth Court House to Tom’s River, and so slowly did they travel that it was not until the next evening that they emerged from the forest into a long stretch of cleared road at the end of which lay the thriving little town.

About a hundred yards to the east of the road, on a slight eminence in the center of cleared ground, stood the blockhouse. It was a rude structure, unfinished, about six or seven feet high, built of logs with loopholes between them, and a number of brass swivels on the top, which was entirely open. Indeed there was no way of entering save by climbing. A short distance beyond the fort a bridge spanned the river, for the village was situated on both banks of the stream. Four miles away the tides of Barnegat Bay swelled and ebbed through Cranberry Inlet into the ocean. It was the nearness of this inlet that gave the little place its importance. It was at this time perhaps the best inlet on the coast except Little Egg Harbor, and was a favorite base of operations for American privateers on the outlook for British vessels carrying supplies to New York.

In the near vicinity of the village a gristmill, a sawmill, and salt works gave evidence of the occupations of the inhabitants; while on the river, which at this point broadened into a bay, floated the barges and boats of the fishermen, and the rafts and scows from the sawmills. The town proper consisted of about a dozen houses beside an inn, around which the dark forest seemed to crowd and press. The place had been subjected to attack several times by the British, owing chiefly to the desirability of the inlet, and the possession of the salt works. An unusual characteristic of the town was the fact that not a Tory, nor Tory sympathizer was allowed to dwell in it; which was an exceedingly uncommon feature of any place in Monmouth County.

As the company drew near the blockhouse there came a sharp command from within, and over its walls scrambled a few men who drew up at attention, while drum and fife sounded a welcome to the new captain. A dazzling light of pleased surprise came into the young man’s eyes, and he squared his shoulders with an involuntary movement. From the village came the people to give welcome also; for the intrepidity with which the young man fulfilled his duties, his recent exploit in capturing the noted Edwards had given him a reputation, and the town rejoiced that he had been sent to take command of the post.

With blushing modesty the lad made a stammering response to the welcome, while Thomas Ashley beamed with gratification, and his mother could scarce conceal her pride. The ceremony was ended presently, and the company took formal possession of the blockhouse. The family passed on into the village.

“’Tis so interesting to be with the military,” sighed Sally ecstatically as she and Peggy were preparing for bed. They had found quarters with the family of Justice Green, old friends of Mrs. Ashley. “Just think, Peggy Owen! Thee had a whole winter of it at Middlebrook. And with the main army at that. I should think thee could never find contentment in our quiet city again.”

“Were we there, Sally, I’d never wish to leave it,” spoke Peggy so earnestly that her friend looked up in surprise.

“What is it?” she asked quickly. “Has thee the migraine, Peggy?”

“No, Sally.” Peggy was thoughtful for a moment before she explained: “These people are so grateful because the company hath come. Were there not great cause for fear they would not have so much appreciation. It looks as though they lived in dread of attack.”

“And I have been feeling so secure because the blockhouse was here,” exclaimed Sally. “Hasn’t thee?”

“I did for a time, but I am not so sure that I do now,” was Peggy’s response.

“Is not Fairfax a fine fellow?” queried Sally after a moment’s silence.

“I wonder if thee knows how often thee says that, Sally?” Peggy turned, and gazed searchingly into Sally’s face.

“I don’t say it any oftener than he deserves it, miss,” retorted Sally, brushing her hair composedly. “He is all that valor and modesty can make him. I heard Friend Pendleton say once that humility was the sweetest flower that grew in the human breast. Fairfax thinks so little of himself; yet he is so brave, and modest, and kind; and his uncle declares that he fights like a tiger.”

“Yes?” gasped Peggy, regarding her friend with amazement. “He is all that. And what then, Sally?”

Sally laughed.

“I was just thinking, Peggy mine, that some time—oh, years and years from now, after the war is over, thee knows—we girls might want to make some additions to the Social Select Circle in the form of—— Well, partners for life,” she ended, blushing adorably.

“And was thee thinking of annexing Fairfax?” cried Peggy in a paroxysm of merriment. “Oh, Sally, Sally! that I should live to hear thee say such things!”

“I? Oh, no! I was thinking of Betty. Thee knows that he would require some management, he is so bashful, and Betty——”

“I am not so sure, Sally.” Peggy was laughing so that she could scarcely talk, but she continued mirthfully: “Has thee not noticed that he is always equal to an emergency, and that he is cool and collected in danger? Sally, Sally! thee’d best give o’er such match-making plans.”

“Well, I do think ’twould be monstrously nice,” said Sally. “So there!”

“For Sally?” teased Peggy.

“Nonsense!” ejaculated Sally, reddening.

Many things contributed to dispel whatever of misgiving Peggy might have had. The people resumed their daily vocations, and while on every hand could be heard encomiums upon the ardor with which the young captain discharged his duties, the presence of the company seemed no longer to be regarded as a strict essential to safety. So the maiden’s fears were lulled to rest, and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of the seaside life.

The bay daily beheld the arrival and departure of privateers, which sometimes brought prizes with them. There were boats from the different mills, and teams always loading at the wharves with lumber, salt, oysters and fish for the interior. Whenever there were prizes with the privateers, the town became a busy and lively place from the influx of visitors who were mostly business men from various parts of the state come to purchase captured vessels, or their cargoes.

Sometimes Fairfax joined them in their walks along the bay, for this was the favorite with the girls, and they could not but comment upon his increased manliness of bearing. He had found his position no sinecure. There were many farmers along the river who, while undeniably patriotic, saw no reason why they should not take the hard money of the British in New York in exchange for supplies, and this contraband trade had to be kept in check. An unceasing watch was in consequence kept on the river and coasts to prevent such persons from running the blockade; the salt works had to be guarded, and a strict patrol maintained to report any advance of English or refugees.

“Thee is getting thin, Friend Fairfax,” commented Peggy one evening as the two maidens and the youth stood watching the boats on the bay. “Thee takes thy duties too seriously. Does he not, Sally?”

“Indeed he does,” agreed Sally, her blue eyes scanning the young man’s countenance with solicitude. “What hath gone amiss, friend? Something is troubling thee.”

“There is activity on Sandy Hook that denotes action of some sort by the enemy,” he answered gravely. “It hath been impossible so far to find just what the movement portends, but I fear that an attack of some kind is intended. Would that ye were at home, though I know not how to get you there.”

“And does thee fear that this is the place to be attacked?” queried Sally. “Is it the salt works?”

“Yes,” he replied. “That is one of the things that would invite assault. The works have always been a bone of contention between the two armies, and the British need of the article is pressing just at this time. Were it not that the highway from Freehold to Trenton is infested by those miscreants of the pines, I should say go with one of the shore wagons to Trenton. As it is there is naught for you to do but to stay here.”

“Where there is a garrison for protection,” spoke Peggy with more lightness than she felt.

“It is small,” he said with hesitation. “Small, and the fort unfinished. I fear me that ’twill not withstand attack, even though it should be defended with stubbornness. But I must not make you uneasy. There may be no ground for apprehension after all.”

So he spoke, and knew not that at that very moment some British and loyalists from Sandy Hook were landing at Coates’ Point, a few miles to the north of Tom’s River. Here their number was augmented by the addition of a band of refugees under the Tory, Davenport. A vidette dashed into the village with the news at midnight. Almost instantly came the order:

“Every man to the blockhouse! The British and refugees are approaching!”