In Hostile Red Part 23

He did not apologize as he had done before, but held up his head and his bold eyes looked steadily into mine.

"All the city, sir, is talking of this Wildfoot, and every loyal man wants him captured. The wish is as strong among us of a lower rank as it is among those of a higher."

I thought that I saw a peculiar significance in his words, and I would have given much to keep down the flush that reddened my face.

"What do you mean to intimate, Waters?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "You are pleased, sir, to dislike me, although I do not know why, and to become angry because I ask you about the search of Mr. Desmond's house, a task which I felt sure was most unwelcome to you."

His eyes did not flinch as he said these bold words, and manner and words alike confirmed my long felt fear that he knew me to be an impostor. I hesitated a little, uncertain what course to take, and then, turning scornfully from him, marched on with my men.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN--_Great News_

As neither Marcel nor I was a.s.signed to any duty for the remainder of the day, we thought to while away a portion of the time by strolling about Philadelphia.

"We need not make spies of ourselves," said Marcel; "but I know no military law against the gratification of our own personal curiosity."

Guided by such worthy motives, we spent some time that was to our amus.e.m.e.nt and perhaps to our profit also. Barring the presence of the soldiery, Philadelphia showed few evidences that war was encamped upon its threshold. I have seldom witnessed a scene of such bustle and animation, and even of gayety too, as the good Quaker City presented. A stranger would have thought there was no war, and that this was merely a great garrison town.

The presence of fifteen or twenty thousand soldiers was good for trade, and gold clinked with much freedom and merriment. Though wagon-trains of provisions were taken sometimes by the Americans, yet many others came safely into Philadelphia, and the profits were so large that the worthy Pennsylvania farmers could not resist the temptation to take the risks, though most of them would have preferred to sell to the patriots, had the latter possessed something better than Continental paper to offer them.

"The British boast much of their bayonets," said Marcel; "but they fight better with their gold."

"And we have neither," said I.

"Which merely means," said Marcel, "not that we shall not win, but that we will be longer in the winning."

Our conversation was diverted from this topic by my observance of a peculiar circ.u.mstance. Often I would see four or five men, gathered at a street corner or in front of a doorway, talking with an appearance of great earnestness. Whenever Marcel and I, who were in full uniform, and thus were known to be British officers as far as we could be seen, approached, they would lower their tone or cease to talk. This had not happened on any day before, and was not what we would have expected from citizens who had grown used to the presence of the British army. I asked Marcel to take note of it.

"Something unusual that they do not wish to tell us of has happened," he said. "I propose that we find out what it is."

"How?" I said.

"I know no better way than to ask," he replied. "Suppose we seize the very next opportunity, and interrogate our Quaker friends concerning the cause of their strange and mysterious behavior."

Presently we saw four men engaged in one of these discussions. Three appeared to be citizens of Philadelphia, or at least we so judged from the smartness of their dress; the fourth had the heavy, unkempt look of a countryman. We approached; on the instant they became silent, and there was a look of embarra.s.sment upon their faces.

"Friends," said Marcel, in his courtly manner, "we wish not to interrupt your most pleasant discourse, but we would ask what news of importance you have, if there be no harm in the telling of it."

"It rained last night," said the countryman, "and it is good for the spring planting."

"Yet one might have news more interesting, though not perhaps more important, than that," replied Marcel; "for it has rained before, and the crops have been planted and reaped likewise before."

"Even so," said the countryman, "but its importance increases when there are twenty thousand red-coats in Philadelphia to be fed."

"But is that the whole burden of your news?" asked Marcel. "We have seen others talk together as you four talk together, and we do not think it accords with nature for all Philadelphia to be agog because it rained the night before."

"Some heads hold strange opinions," said the countryman, curtly; "but why should I be held to account for them?"

So saying, he walked off with his companions.

"You can't draw blood from a turnip," said Marcel, "nor the truth from a man who has decided not to tell it."

"Not since the torture-chamber was abolished," I said, "and I would even guess that this countryman is no very warm friend to the British, from the insolent tone that he adopted towards us."

"And I would guess also that his news, whatever it may be, is something that will not be to the taste of the British, or he would tell it to us," said Marcel.

But we were not daunted by one repulse, and we decided to try elsewhere.

From another little group to which we addressed ourselves we received treatment perhaps not quite so discourteous, but as unproductive of the desired result. All this we took as further proof that there was in reality something of importance afoot. At last we went into a little eating-house where strong liquors also were sold.

"Perhaps if we moisten their throats for them," said Marcel, "they may become less secretive. It is a cure I have rarely known to fail."

There were eight or ten men in this place, some citizens of the town and some countrymen.

"What news?" I asked of one who leaned against the counter. "There seems to be a stir about the town, and we ask its cause."

"You are British officers," he replied. "The British hold this town. You should know more than we."

"But this town has a population of such high intelligence," I said, thinking to flatter him, "that it learns many things before we do."

"If you admit that," he said, "then I can tell you something."

"Ah! what is it?" I asked, showing eagerness.

"Perhaps you may not like to hear it," he said, "but Sir William Howe was nearly carried off last night by Wildfoot."

Then all of them laughed in sneering fas.h.i.+on.

"I was afraid you would not like my news," said the man, pretending of a sudden to be very humble; "but you would not be satisfied until I told it, and so I had to tell it."

"We must even try elsewhere," said Marcel.

Marcel was a jester, but, like most other jesters, he did not like a jest put upon himself. So we left the eating-house, and as we went out we saw the man Waters coming towards us. As I have often said, I did not like this fellow, and moreover I feared we had reason to dread him, but I thought he could tell us what we wished to know, as he had such a prying temper.

He saluted us with much politeness, and stopped when I beckoned to him.

The men in the eating-house had all come to the door.

"Good-morning, Waters," I said. "Can you tell us what interests the people of this city so much, the news that we have been seeking in vain to learn? Here are gentlemen who have something that they would cherish and keep to themselves like a lady's favor."

"It would scarce be proper for me, who am but an orderly, to announce weighty matters to your honors," said the man, with a most aggravating look of humility. The loungers who had come to the door laughed.

"We will overlook that," said Marcel, who kept his temper marvellously well. "But tell us, is not the town really in a stir as it seems to be?"

"It is, your honors," said Waters, "and it has cause for it."