Part 5 (1/2)
”Long live the new Republic!”
”Hip--hip--huzza!”
It was as if the prisoned joy of months had broken into song. Scars and tatters and hunger, pains and aching wounds were forgotten, and only the radiance of peace and freedom yet to come shone in the dazzled upturned eyes.
”Long live the lilies of France!”
When it was all done Richard sat down to write by the light of a pine knot one of those letters that Joscelyn hated.
”I am much grieved at the news of you in Betty's last letter. She says you daily draw upon yourself the disapproval of the townsfolk by your public rejoicing over news of any British success. This is not wise in you, for the people are in no temper to be mocked; and I feel my hands grow cold at the thought that some danger may come near you, and I too far away to stand between you and it! Go often to see my mother, both because she loves you and because the friends.h.i.+p of so good a patriot will be a safeguard in the community. Betty hath writ me so queer a page about trying to love my enemies, and her hope that I will look carefully at every man toward whom my gun is pointed so that I shoot not a neighbour, that I am at a loss to understand her meaning--unless, indeed, she hath been tainted by your Toryism. What think you hath come to the little minx?”
She would not answer the epistle, of course--she never did; but it was such a relief to put his feelings into words. That she would be angry at some of his words he knew, but it made him laugh to think of the disdainful lips and flas.h.i.+ng eyes.
He must have laughed aloud, for a man stretched upon the ground suddenly asked him what the joke was.
”Oh, just a pa.s.sing thought,” Richard answered. ”A man has to think funny things to keep alive in this state of inactivity into which we are called.”
”You would like a little excitement?”
”Indeed I should. 'Tis now six weeks since I came into camp, and only that one secret trip with you down the river has broken the monotony of drilling and mounting guard.”
The man, a Virginian named Dunn, one of the most daring and capable scouts of the army, smoked a moment in silence.
”How would you like to witness the festivities in honour of General Howe before he leaves Philadelphia?”
Richard's eyes lit up. ”Take me with you, Dunn!” he cried, with great eagerness.
”H-u-s-h!” said Dunn. ”Nothing is arranged yet; but there will be much to learn of the enemy's intended movements, and when would there fall so fine a chance as these days of festivity when wine and tongues will both run free? If I can so fix it, you shall go with me; you suit me better than Price, for you are quicker to catch a cue. You have got just one fault for this kind of business--you are always so d--n sure of yourself and your own powers; a little humility would improve you.”
Richard laughed and wrung his hand. ”You can knock me down for a conceited c.o.xcomb, only take me with you.”
For a few days the French alliance was the all-absorbing theme of talk; and La Fayette's laughing prophecy that France's recognition of a republic would one day come home to her seemed, to these aroused sons of Liberty, like an augury that the countries of the Old World would one day follow in the paths their swords were blazing out--the paths that lead over thrones and crowns to self-government. But Richard soon had other things whereof to think. Dunn was planning his expedition into the lines of the enemy; but two weeks went by before he came to Richard's tent and beckoned him aside.
”To-night at eight, by the pine tree down the road. I have spoken to your captain, so there will be no hubbub about your absence. Bring no arms but your pistols.”
Under the young May moon Richard kept his tryst with the veteran scout, as eager as a lover to meet his mistress.
”Sit down,” said Dunn. ”I shall tell you my mission, for I do not work by halves. Sometimes an a.s.sistant has to act on his own responsibility, and he spoils sport if he does not know the plan. First, we are to find out when the British are to move, what is their destination, and by what road they will go. If an attack is to be made before-hand on our camp, we must bring back the plans. If there is a chance for our men to strike a blow, we must know it.”
”And how are we to learn these things?”
”By keeping our ears and eyes open and our wits sharpened. It will take cool heads and steady nerves. We are to gain entrance into the city as ordinary labourers. In this bundle are the necessary clothes.
Circ.u.mstances must govern us after we are there. Now to get ready.”
It took but a few minutes to transform the soldiers into workmen, so far as dress makes a transformation. Leaving their uniforms in the hollow of a tree, where Dunn's man was to search for them, they mounted their horses and set off by an unused road toward the distant city. The direct route would have given them about twenty miles of travel, but the numerous diversions they were obliged to make added a fourth of that distance to their journey, so there was a gray streak of dawn in the sky ahead of them when they drew rein at a lonely cabin on the edge of a wood, beyond which were the cleared fields of a farm that skirted the city. On the door of this hut Dunn struck three sharp taps, then one, then two. After the signal was repeated the door was cautiously opened by a man within, who, upon being a.s.sured of the ident.i.ty of the newcomers, bade them enter; and Richard found himself in an humble room whose rafters were hung with drying herbs that gave out a pungent odour.
In a few words Dunn explained to the man, whom he called George, something of their purpose.
”Well, I was expecting you. My vegetable cart starts in two hours; one of you can go with me, the other must straggle on behind, for two would be more than is safe with one cart. My daily pa.s.s allows me an a.s.sistant.”