Part 77 (1/2)

_Sir John_

”I'm sorry I'm here, for I'm horribly scared, But how did I know that they'd all be prepared?

The fate of our forray looks darker and darker, The state of our larder grows starker and starker, I fear that a round-shot or one of their carkers[33]

May breech my new breeches like poor Peter Parker's![34]

Oh, say, if my rear is uncovered, what then!--”

(_Enter_ Walter Butler in a panic)

_Butler_

”Held! Schuyler is coming with ten thousand men!”

(A canon shot from the Fort)

_Sir John_ (falls flat)

”I'm done! A cannon ball of thirty pound Has. .h.i.t me where Sir Peter got his wound.

I'm done! I'm all undone! So don't unb.u.t.t'n'm; But say adieu for me to Clairette Putnam!”[35]

(_Enter_ a swarm of surgeons)

_Surgeons_

”Compose yourself, good sir--forget your fright; We promise you you are not slain outright.

The wound you got is not so mortal deep But bleeding, cupping, patience, rest, and sleep, With blisters, clysters, physic, air and diet Will set you up again if you'll be quiet!”

_Sir John_

”So thick, so fast the b.a.l.l.s and bullets flew, Some hit me here, some there, some thro' and thro', Beneath my legs a score of hosses fell, Shot under me by twice as many sh.e.l.l; And though my soldiers falter and beseech, Forward I strode, defiant to the breech, And there, as History my valour teaches, I fell as Caesar fell, and lost--my breeches!

His face lay in his toga, in defeat, So let me hide my face within my seat, My requiem the rebel cannons roar, My duty done, my bottom very sore.

Tell Willett he may keep his flour and pork, For I am going back to dear New York.”

(Exit on a litter to the Rogue's March)

[Footnote 32: 32 parallel to _The Expedition to Danbury_, printed in a Pennsylvania newspaper, May 14th, 1777.]

[Footnote 33: Carkers--carca.s.s--a sh.e.l.l fired from a small piece of artillery.]

[Footnote 34: Sir Peter Parker's breeches were carried away by a round shot at Fort Moultrie.]

[Footnote 35: His charming but abandoned mistress.]

”If we fight at Stanwix,” says Penelope, ”G.o.d send the business end as gaily as your broadside, Nick!”

And so, amid laughter, our last evening together came to an end, and it was time to part.

Nick gave Penelope a hearty smack, grinned broadly at me, seized my hands and whispered: ”What did I tell you of the Scotch girl of Caughnawaga, who hath a way with her which is the undoing of all innocent young men?”