Part 31 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Jack Irons and Solomon Binkus with General George Was.h.i.+ngton.]
”General, Doctor Franklin told us to turn over the bosses and wagons to you,” said Solomon. ”He didn't tell us what to do with ourselves 'cause 'twasn't necessary an' he knew it. We want to enlist.”
”For what term?”
”Till the British are licked.”
”You are the kind of men I need,” said Was.h.i.+ngton. ”I shall put you on scout duty. Mr. Irons will go into my regiment of sharp shooters with the rank of captain. You have told me of his training in Philadelphia.”
3
So the two friends were enlisted and began service in the army of Was.h.i.+ngton.
A letter from Jack to his mother dated July 25, 1775, is full of the camp color:
”General Charles Lee is in command of my regiment,” he writes. ”He is a rough, slovenly old dog of a man who seems to bark at us on the training ground. He has two or three hunting dogs that live with him in his tent and also a rare gift of profanity which is with him everywhere--save at headquarters.
”To-day I saw these notices posted in camp:
”'Punctual attendance on divine service is required of all not on actual duty.'
”'No burning of the pope allowed.'
”'Fifteen stripes for denying duty.'
”'Ten for getting drunk.'
”'Thirty-nine for stealing and desertion.'
”Rogues are put in terror, lazy men are energized. The quarters are kept clean, the food is well cooked and in plentiful supply, but the British over in town are said to be getting hungry.”
Early in August a London letter was forwarded to Jack from Philadelphia. He was filled with new hope as he read these lines:
”Dearest Jack: I am sailing for Boston on one of the next troop s.h.i.+ps to join my father. So when the war ends--G.o.d grant it may be soon!--you will not have far to go to find me. Perhaps by Christmas time we may be together. Let us both pray for that. Meanwhile, I shall be happier for being nearer you and for doing what I can to heal the wounds made by this wretched war. I am going to be a nurse in a hospital. You see the truth is that since I met you, I like all men better, and I shall love to be trying to relieve their sufferings . . .”
It was a long letter but above is as much of it as can claim admission to these pages.
”Who but she could write such a letter?” Jack asked himself, and then he held it to his lips a moment. It thrilled him to think that even then she was probably in Boston. In the tent where he and Solomon lived when they were both in camp, he found the scout. The night before Solomon had slept out. Now he had built a small fire in front of the tent and lain down on a blanket, having delivered his report at headquarters.
”Margaret is in Boston,” said Jack as soon as he entered, and then standing in the firelight read the letter to his friend.
”Thar is a real, genewine, likely gal,” said the scout.
”I wish there were some way of getting to her,” the young man remarked.
”Might as well think o' goin' to h.e.l.l an' back ag'in,” said Solomon.
”Since Bunker Hill the British are like a lot o' hornets. I run on to one of 'em to-day. He fired at me an' didn't hit a thing but the air an' run like a scared rabbit. Could 'a' killed him easy but I kind o'
enjoyed seein' him run. He were like chain lightnin' on a greased pole--you hear to me.”
”If the General will let me, I'm going to try spy duty and see if I can get into town and out again,” he proposed.
”You keep out o' that business,” said Solomon. ”They's too many that know ye over in town. The two Clarkes an' their friends an' Colonel Hare an' his friends, an' Cap. Preston, an' a hull pa.s.sle. They know all 'bout ye. If you got snapped, they'd stan' ye ag'in' a wall an'