Lucy Foster Madison

“Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish,
Beyond comparison, the worst are those
Which to our folly or our guilt we owe.”

—John Strange Winter.

“And you will take Peggy and me to see Clifford this morning, won’t you, Cousin David?” Harriet smiled brightly over the breakfast table at David Owen as she spoke. Despite the long journey the girls had awakened betimes, and appeared looking so radiant and so thoroughly wholesome that Mr. Owen had declared that they surpassed the morning itself in brightness.

“Thou wilt have to wait until about noon, Harriet,” he answered smiling at her kindly. “I have some work which must be attended to first. When that is done I shall be at thy service.”

“And when thee does go, Harriet, try to persuade thy brother to give his parole, that he may visit us,” exclaimed Mrs. Owen. “I quite long to see the lad, and John said that there was no reason why he should not be at large, if he would but give his word not to go beyond the limits of the town.”

“I’ll make Clifford see reason,” said Harriet confidently. “He doesn’t like John Drayton, and therefore does not wish to accept any favor from him.”

“But why should he dislike him, lass? Drayton hath been kindness itself to him.”

“You see, Cousin David,” explained Harriet with a charming blush, “Clifford cannot rid himself of the idea that Captain Drayton may have been in favor with me. Once I made a shirt which I gave to the captain in sport. It seems that he twitted Clifford about it, and Clifford tore the garment up. I believe they came to blows over the matter, and there hath been bad feeling between them ever since.”

“That would explain many things,” spoke Mr. Owen musingly. “There is certainly strong dislike on Clifford’s part. Thou art sure that thou hast given no cause for the feeling, lass?”

“Why, I dislike John Drayton extremely, Cousin David. He wears his beaver in what he supposes is a jaunty fashion over his right eye, and he swaggers when he walks. How could one show him favor?”

Mr. Owen laughed.

“The lad does swagger a bit, Harriet, but ’tis not an offensive swagger. As to his hat: ’tis a standing joke of the army as to how he keeps it on in battle. The hotter the fight the further on the side it gets. I saw a letter that General Greene writ to His Excellency in which he declared that Drayton fought with it on his right ear all through the battle of Hobkirk’s Hill. John was made a captain for valor shown during that engagement. General Greene says that if it ever gets an inch further down he will be a general, sure. Thee is pleased over that, Peggy?”

“Oh, Peggy is hopeless where Captain Drayton is concerned,” cried Harriet. “I have never known her to do aught but stand up for him, except when she thought him a deserter at Yorktown. Even then she would not talk against him.”

“Well, he is very deserving, lass. All his mannerisms are those of youth. Underneath them I agree with Peggy that thee will find John Drayton of sterling worth.”

“To my mind he does not compare with Major Dale,” said Harriet. “He hath obtained the rank of major, and hath not found it necessary to bring his ear into service as a resting place for his hat, either.”

Even Peggy joined in the laugh which this remark caused.

“Well, I must to work, to work,” ejaculated Mr. Owen rising. “I would much prefer to stay with you, but I must get to work. Be ready at noon, girls.”

“What is his work?” questioned Harriet as the door closed behind him.

“’Tis in regard to thy people, Harriet,” Mrs. Owen told her. “I make no doubt but that thee knows already that there is a great deal of illicit trade carried on betwixt thy people in New York and some of our citizens. ’Tis David’s duty to examine all goods that are brought into the town to see that none are contraband.”

“Then would he have to examine the wagon load of stores which I came with before it could be given to our soldiers?” asked Harriet.

“Of course, child. If there is naught contraband in it thee need have no uneasiness. As soon as they are passed upon they are turned over to Major Gordon, a paroled British officer who hath charge of the prisoners here. He distributes them according to the need of the prisoners. The table stores are divided equally.”

“Oh!” uttered Harriet thoughtfully. After a moment she turned to Peggy. “And how shall we amuse ourselves, Peggy, until ’tis time to go to Clifford?”

“Let’s go through the house and grounds,” suggested Peggy. “Thee would like to see them, would thee not?”

“Yes,” answered the girl. “Shall we go now, Peggy?”

The house was roomy enough to house the family comfortably without too much care in its ordering, having a wide piazza in front, with a kitchen, bakehouse and oven in the rear. There were large grounds,—part orchard, part garden, and part meadow-land. But the maidens were most pleased with the great number of flowering shrubs about the grounds.

“There are going to be heaps and heaps of roses, Harriet,” cried Peggy delightedly. “Just see the buds! The color is already beginning to show through the green.”

“I see,” replied her cousin, pausing beside a lilac bush to break off a fragrant cluster of blossoms. “I do wish I had brought my horse, Fleetwood. Your father spoke of rides, Peggy, but I see not how I can go with you.”

“Father will, no doubt, get thee a mount, Harriet. Of course ’twill not be Fleetwood, but thee won’t mind that, will thee?”

“No, Peggy.”

It was just noon when David Owen came for them. The prisoners confined at Lancaster were for the most part kept in barracks, but many were permitted at large on parole so that the streets swarmed with them. The house was but a half mile from the barracks, and this distance was soon traversed.

A strong stockade with four blockhouses, one on each corner, enclosed the barracks. Captain Drayton met them just as they passed through the stockade gates.

“This way,” he said, leading them across the parade-ground where a company was drilling. “I sent for Captain Williams to be in the anteroom. He should be there waiting for you. I did not tell him who wished to see him.”

Major Dale was standing at the entrance of the barracks, and the party stopped for a moment’s chat with him. Presently Peggy passed on into the anteroom. Clifford was sitting disconsolately by a table with his head resting on his hand. He was pale, and thinner than she had ever seen him, but his resemblance to her father was more marked than ever. He cried out at sight of her.

“Peggy,” he cried springing to his feet, “is this what that Yankee captain meant by sending for me? Cousin David said that he expected you, but he did not tell me that you had come.”

“I just came last night, my cousin,” she answered scanning his face with deep concern. “And how is thee?”

“Oh, I’m all right,” he answered carelessly. “That is,” he added hastily, “as right as one well can be who is a prisoner.”

“Mother is here too, Clifford. She wishes to see thee so much. We want thee to be with us, my cousin, while we are here, and Captain Drayton hath said that thee might come and go at thy pleasure if thee would give thy word not to try to escape.”

“Drayton is very kind,” he remarked, his lip curling. “I give no word to him of any sort. Why, Harriet!” he broke off abruptly. “How did you get here?”

“Hasn’t Peggy told you all about it?” cried Harriet running to him. “Oh, Cliff, ’twas such a good joke that I played on her. I made a stricter Quakeress than she does. You see we had not heard from you for so long that ’twas quite time that some of us looked you up. Sit down, and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Father ought not to have permitted it,” he observed, when she had finished the recital. “I don’t see why he did. I like it not, my sister.”

“Nonsense, Cliff! there was no danger. Peggy can tell you that there was no risk of my being thought other than I seemed.”

“I like it not,” he repeated. “And now, Harriet, what will you do? It doth not seem wise to me, or right for you to return to New York.”

“I shall stay with Peggy for a time,” she told him easily.

“We shall be pleased to have her with us, my cousin,” spoke Peggy instantly, noting his troubled glance.

“But she may have to remain until peace, which may be long in coming, Peggy.”

“I think not, Clifford,” spoke Harriet, before Peggy could make any response. “If we enforce the new policy which Sir Guy Carleton hath inaugurated, America will be glad to have peace on any terms.”

“I have heard of no new policy,” he said somewhat curtly. “What is it?”

“You have scarcely been in the way of hearing new things, my brother. Know then that the colonies are to be so harassed from all sides that they will sue for peace. On the frontiers,” she exulted, seemingly unmindful of Peggy’s presence, “and on the coasts.”

“There hath been too much of that already,” he said grimly. “It hath brought us into disfavor with the entire world. Take the death of Fairfax Johnson, for instance, which was the direct result of such a policy. ’Twas a base and ignoble act to murder him; for it was murder.”

“Englishmen did not do that, Clifford. ’Twas the loyalists.”

“Englishmen sanction the act while they retain Lippencott, the murderer,” he answered. “Have they given him up yet?”

“No, of course not,” she responded. “The court-martial exonerated him. You would not feel about the matter as you do, Cliff, if you had not known Fairfax. Sir Guy hath also another plan of which I am not at liberty to speak. And, Cliff, I wish you would have Major Gordon come in here. I have something to say to him.”

“Why, Harriet, you do not know him,” exclaimed Clifford, turning a startled glance upon her. “What could you possibly have to say to him?”

“I want to tell him about the goods that I brought, my brother,” she made answer.

“I did not understand that you brought them,” he said. “I thought you merely took advantage of the fact that they were being sent to come with them.”

“Why, so I did, Cliff.”

“Then there is no need to send for the major,” he said firmly. “The goods pass through Cousin David’s hands, and are then turned over to Major Gordon for distribution among us. He will get them without you troubling about them.”

“Very well,” she said. “Then let us talk about ourselves. Madam our cousin wishes you to take dinner with her to-day. Cousin David was called away by some matter pertaining to his work just as we were coming in, but he said that he would join us presently to insist upon your going. You must not refuse, Clifford. ’Twould be churlish.”

“Clifford, do come,” pleaded Peggy. “There is so much to talk about that we cannot begin to say half of it here. And Sally. I have somewhat to tell thee of Sally.”

“I do not care to hear anything concerning Mistress Sally,” he said loftily. “Naught that you can say anent the lady interests me.”

“Thee is unjust, my cousin,” began Peggy, when Harriet interrupted her.

“That is simply pig-headedness, Cliff. If Sally Evans said that she did not betray you, then she didn’t. That’s all there is to it. When you come to know these Quakers as I do you will find that they always speak truth.”

“Thank thee, Harriet,” said Peggy gratefully, not a little delighted that her cousin should speak so warmly. “But I won’t say anything more to thy brother anent Sally if he does not wish to hear it. Sally would not like it.”

“’Tis close in these barracks,” cried Harriet rising. “Let’s call John Drayton, so that you can give him your parole, Clifford. We are to have dinner at two. It will be ready by the time we are there.”

Clifford Owen’s lips set in a straight line of determination, but before he could speak the door opened to admit David Owen, Robert Dale, and John Drayton. The countenances of all three were very serious, and Peggy felt her heart begin to throb with anticipation of approaching disaster. Something had gone amiss. What could it be? Harriet noticed nothing unusual in their appearance, and flashed a brilliant smile at them.

“You are just in time, Cousin David,” she cried, “to help us persuade this obstinate brother of mine to give his parole to Captain Drayton.”

“A moment first, lass.” David Owen’s voice was very grave. “Tell me what was in the wagon in which thee came?”

“There were supplies for our soldiers, sir,” she answered. “Table stores and clothing. Why do you ask? Your Congress permits them to be sent.”

“True, lass,” he said. “True. Does thee know what my work here is?”

“I did not know until this morning,” she told him gazing at him fearfully. “Then I learned that it was to check the contraband trade which is held betwixt your people and mine.”

“That is it exactly,” Mr. Owen made answer. “Harriet, it gives me much pain, but I must ask thee if thee——”

But at this point Clifford Owen went quickly to his sister’s side, and faced Mr. Owen boldly.

“Of what do you accuse my sister, sir?” he asked. “Hath she not just said the wagon contained stores for our soldiers?”

“Yes, lad; but it also contains many pounds of goods which are illegal to bring to thy soldiers.”

“And if it does contain such articles she knows naught of how they came there,” spoke the youth wrathfully, his face white with anger. “We are not traders, sir. Harriet would not stoop to smuggle goods here. Why do you not ask the driver concerning the matter?”

“He hath disappeared, Clifford. I pray thee to permit thy sister to answer for herself.” Mr. Owen spoke with great mildness but none the less firmly.

Harriet’s face became pale as he turned toward her. Her gaze clung to his as though fascinated.

“What did you find, Cousin David?” she half whispered.

“A false bottom in the wagon, together with false sides, which gave the vehicle capacity for five hundred pounds of contraband goods,” he told her.

“Truly?” she cried, sitting bolt upright. Her wonder and amaze were such that none could doubt her sincerity. “Why, they did not tell me about that. Truly, truly, Cousin David, I knew naught about that.”

Was there the slightest emphasis on the “that”? Peggy asked the question of herself almost unconsciously. She glanced at the others. The faces of her father and Robert Dale were glowing with relief and satisfaction. Clifford’s belligerent attitude had relaxed slightly at his sister’s declaration. John Drayton’s glance alone met hers with understanding.

“I believe thee, lass,” cried Mr. Owen heartily. “Robert here would have it that thee knew naught of the matter. Thee understands that ’twas my duty to probe the affair.”

“Why, it’s all right, Cousin David,” she returned sweetly. “You had to do your duty, of course, and there’s no harm done. And I thank you, Major Dale, for your belief in me. I shall never forget it.” The tears came into her lovely eyes as she spoke, making them lovelier than ever.

“I knew that you would not be guilty of such a thing,” exclaimed Robert Dale fervently.

“And now let’s go home for dinner, and forget all about this little unpleasantness,” exclaimed Mr. Owen. “Clifford, lad, we can’t leave thee here. My wife will not forgive us if we do so.”

Again Clifford’s lips set in an obstinate line, but Drayton spoke quickly:

“Captain Williams, I know how it irks you to be obliged to give me your parole; so, if you will go with Mr. Owen, or the major here, to General Hazen, he will receive your parole.”

For a moment Clifford struggled with himself. Then he said, and the effort it cost him was plainly visible:

“I can be as generous as you, sir. I give you my word of honor that I will make no attempt to escape while I am at large.”

“Thank you,” said Drayton simply. “You are at liberty to go with your relatives, sir.”

Peggy lingered for a second behind the others.

“Isn’t thee coming too, John?” she asked.

“Not to-day, Peggy. Clifford will enjoy it more if I am not there. Odds life! he did well to give that parole. He deserves to have one day free of me. But, Peggy, I’ll come out to-night, if I may. And don’t worry about that wagon. I’ll take it in hand while your father is not here.”

“Was there anything else contraband in the wagon, John?” she queried anxiously that evening when the two found themselves alone on the piazza.

“Yes. The quartermaster was about to turn it over to Major Gordon when I told him I would take another look through the contents. Peggy, in a barrel of vinegar was a water tight cask just filled with goods. That slight emphasis on ‘that’ lost the British a pretty penny. I was alone when ’twas found, Peggy, so that no one knows about it but us two. We won’t let your father, her brother, or Dale know about it. They all believe in her so, and I owe her something for what she did for me at Yorktown.”

“Perchance she really does not know any more about this than she did about the false bottom to the wagon, John.”

“It may be, Peggy. We will give her the benefit of the doubt, but it does look suspicious. She is not so high minded as her brother is.”

“John!” Peggy hesitated and then spoke quickly: “Thee knows how proud I am of her, and that I am fond of her. She is so beautiful and brilliant that I cannot help but be glad when she is with us. But there is always an uneasy feeling too. Is there any mischief to the cause that could be done here?”

“No,” he answered emphatically. “Aside from bringing in goods for the illicit trade there is but one thing that could be done now, Peggy, and that thing Harriet will never do. ’Twould be to peddle those illegal goods to the country folk about here. Harriet won’t do that, Peggy.”

“No, she would not do that,” agreed Peggy.

“Then set your mind at rest concerning her. We have the goods which she was sent to bring. She will never know that all have been found; so there is mutual satisfaction on both sides. If you can get any enjoyment out of her presence, Peggy, do so.”

“Thank thee, John. Thee has set my mind completely at rest,” said Peggy.