In Hostile Red Part 39

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT--_At the Council Fire_

The British, going from Philadelphia to New York, marched on a slightly curving route, while we, almost parallel with them, were advancing in a straight line; that is, they were the bent bow and we were its cord.

Therefore we held the advantage, and it was obvious that we would overtake them. Great hopes began to rise among us. The British army was the larger, composed of regular troops, and far better armed than ours; but it had just given up the chief city of the colonies, and was in retreat. It was suffering from depression, while we were elated over the French alliance and the sudden and favorable turn of our fortunes. Many of us believed that a heavy blow, well directed, might now end the war.

We heard, too, that it was General Was.h.i.+ngton's own hope, and it was my fortune to discover, through personal observation, that this was so.

It was several nights after my return with the gold. Our scouts had been engaged in some skirmis.h.i.+ng with British outposts, and just as the evening fell, Marcel and I returned with a report of it. The weather was still intensely hot, and the men, terribly tired by forced marches in such a temperature, were lying on the ground with their faces to the sky that they might feel the first coolness of the evening. The cooks were preparing supper, and fires blazed here and there; but we were too languid to show much energy, and the camp was unusually quiet.

We made our report to the colonel; but he considered it of sufficient importance to be heard by the general-in-chief himself, and he directed me to take it to him.

"You will find him among the trees," he said, pointing to a small wood.

Under the boughs of the largest tree, a fire was burning and over it swung a camp-kettle. Several men, sitting on logs in front of the fire, were talking earnestly, and now and then looking at a map. The one who held the map was large and straight-shouldered, and I knew the figure to be that of the general-in-chief. As I approached, I recognized, too, the swarthy face of Charles Lee, the foreigner who came to us with such an air of superior wisdom, and whom we put in high place, but whom the real soldiers already hated. Then I recognized Wayne, with his trim figure and fine frank eyes, Greene, the silent Rhode-Islander who afterward became so great, and others.

The council--if council it was--seemed to have developed some heat.

General Was.h.i.+ngton's blue eyes plainly showed anger, and Lee was whipping his own high cavalry boots with a small switch. I approached with much embarra.s.sment and hesitation. My Philadelphia exploits in company with Marcel were yet fresh in the memory of men, and to appear presumptuous was, of all things, the one that I wished least. I was sorry that Marcel had not been chosen to deliver the report. It was a situation that would have pleased him.

But General Was.h.i.+ngton saw me as I came near, and delivered me from further embarra.s.sment by calling to me in very kind tones,--

"A report for me, is it not, Lieutenant Chester?" he asked.

I said yes, and stated it briefly, while the others listened with attention. Then I stood awaiting the general's further orders.

"It is just as I told you," he said emphatically to Charles Lee, and seeming to forget my presence. "Our army will overtake theirs in three days at furthest, and we must strike with all our strength. We may be able to destroy Clinton's army, and then our cause will be won."

"But Clinton has more men than we," replied Charles Lee, in protesting tones, "and his equipment is much superior."

"He retreats, and we pursue," said the general-in-chief.

"That is true," rejoined Lee; "but I think we should be very cautious."

His words and tone did not indicate zeal. How heartily I have since cursed the traitor, and how many others have done the same.

"And why so cautious?" burst in the impetuous Wayne. "One cannot win a battle unless he fights!"

"You might have found caution a good thing, General Wayne," replied Lee, in smooth, soft tones. "Remember how they cut you up at Paoli."

Wayne flushed with anger, but he was too manly to deny his only disaster.

"It is true," he said, "but the fault was mine. My troops did not get a chance to fight. Here they will have it."

"We shall invite our own rout," said Lee. "The Americans cannot stand the British grenadiers."

It was the feeling of an old race towards a new one that spoke in him, and this man, who proved himself a traitor to two countries, the old and new, was unwise enough to say it.

"You are mistaken," said the commander-in-chief, promptly and emphatically. "That is a delusion which the British may cherish, but not we. This war has furnished too many instances to the contrary. The attack shall be made, General Lee, and you shall lead it. We must end this war as soon as possible, and benefit two nations; for I take it that Englishmen do not love to kill Americans, any more than Americans love to kill Englishmen."

Throughout the talk Greene said nothing, sitting there upon the log, looking calm and decided. I like this quality of stanchness in the New Englanders. They stick fast, whatever else you may say about them, and that I think wins more than anything else.

I received my instructions a moment later and retired. As I walked away, I met Marcel.

"Was it a council of war?" he asked.

"I think so."

"I hope that you gave them the proper instructions."

"I did my best," I replied in the same spirit.

"They had no right to expect more," rejoined Marcel; "but it's a great pity I was not in your place."

Perhaps he would have given them advice. Marcel had great confidence in his judgment.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE--_Under the Apple-Trees_

We lay gasping under the apple-trees. The hottest sun that ever I felt or saw, was dissolving our muscles and pinning us to the earth, mere flaccid lumps. The heat quivered in the air, and the gra.s.s turned dry blades to the brown soil. I ran my finger along the bare edge of my sword, and the skin was scorched. My throat burned.

"What a day to fight!" said Marcel. "The red coats that the British over yonder wear blaze like fire, and I dare say are as hot. I wish I were a private and not an officer. Then I could strip myself."

He looked longingly at a huge soldier who had taken off coat and s.h.i.+rt, and was lying on the gra.s.s, naked to the waist, his rifle ready in his hands.

"Leave old Father Sun alone," I said: "I believe he will settle the business for both armies. At least he seems to be bent upon doing it."

I tried to look up at the sun, but His Majesty met me with so fierce a stare that I was glad to turn my eyes again, blinking, to the earth.

When they recovered from the dimness, I looked along the line of panting soldiers, and saw one who had dropped his rifle on the gra.s.s and flung his arms out at ease.

"Stir up that man, there," I said; "he must keep his rifle in hand and ready."

"If you please, sir," said the bare-waisted soldier, "he won't be stirred up."

"Won't be stirred up?" I said, with natural impatience; "why won't he?"

"Because he can't be," said the soldier.

"Can't be?" I said, not understanding such obstinacy. "What do you mean?"

"He can't be stirred up," replied the soldier; "because he's dead, sir."

I examined the man, and found that it was true. We had marched long and hard in the stifling heat before we lay down in the orchard, and the man, overpowered by it, had died so gently that his death was not known to us. We let him lie there, the dead man in the ranks with the quick.

"Doesn't the concussion of cannon and muskets cause rain sometimes?"

asked Marcel.

"I have heard so," I replied. "Why?"