CHAPTER XII

THE RETREAT

As to what happened during the time General Lafayette was striving to withdraw from the dangerous position he found himself in after the advance of the Britishers, I cannot of my own knowledge speak clearly.

To me, and my comrades are of the same mind, the day was apparently spent in moving here and there blindly, so to speak. It appeared now and then, from what little I could see in advance of us, that we were on the very verge of being captured, and again did it appear as if we had gotten off scot free, while mayhap half an hour later the danger was seemingly greater than before.

If I attempted to set down the details of the movement which gave good proof of the young French officer’s ability to handle men, I should surely make a bungling job of it.

Therefore it is I count to copy out what I afterwards read concerning that escape of ours. There is no good reason why I should do other than use the words of the man who knew full well what he was writing about; for we lads had no part or parcel in that retreat, save as we followed closely at the heels of the officers’ horses, running now and then in order to keep pace, and again allowed to remain idle five or ten minutes at a time, all the while so confused as to the general purpose of the commander as not to be able clearly to understand anything save when we crossed the ford, where, during a few moments, did it seem to me as if we were safe.

We conversed very little during that marching and countermarching, for we were puzzled, and again it was not seemly we should speculate as to what was being done, because at times we were so near General Lafayette himself that he could have heard our words.

Here is what I have seen set down in printed words regarding the matter, and after reading it I can the better understand why we went here or there.

“Lafayette proved himself adequate to the occasion. In a moment, as it were, his dangers were revealed, and the one possible means of extrication resorted to. Dispositions were made as though to receive Gray; his artillery, by a well directed fire, encouraged the idea that he proposed to engage.

“His real aim was, of course, flight, and by the ford; but to attain it he must pass within a short distance of Grant, who was nearer to it than himself.

“He feigned movements as though for an attack, and by an occasional display of the heads of columns, he for a time persuaded the Englishman that an action was imminent.

“Meantime the troops, as fast as they could come up, were hurrying across the ford, until at last the artillery and a body of Oneida savages only remained on this side the stream. These were also now brought over, and on the high ground beyond our men were secure.

“Grant at last came up and ordered the advance to move on; but it was too late. They saw but a party of our troops dotting the surface of the water like the floats of a seine. The prey had escaped.

“Grant was hopelessly in the rear, and when Gray’s column closed in there was nothing between the British lines. The only skirmishing even that seems to have occurred was between a body of light horse and the Oneidas. Neither had ever encountered a like foe, and when the cavalry unexpectedly rode among the savages, the whooping and scampering of the one, and the flashing swords and prancing steeds of the other party, excited such a common terror that both fled with the utmost precipitation.

“Irritated and empty-handed Howe marched back to town, with no one but his own officers to blame for his ill success.”

Now it is that he who reads what I have just set down will understand quite as much as did I, who took part in the manœuvre, how General Lafayette succeeded in throwing dust in the eyes of the Britishers, and brought off his men without loss of blood when it had seemed as if he was in a trap from which it would be impossible to escape.

I would it might be possible for me to set down all that we saw and heard in the camp at Valley Forge after the French officer had led his men back in what might well be called a masterly retreat; but I have not the space nor the time if I am to tell the story of what we so-called Minute Boys of Philadelphia did.

It is not necessary for me to make any attempt at explaining how saddened our soldiers at Valley Forge were when General Lafayette and his men returned in what you may well call full flight. They had, hoping even against hope, brought themselves to believe that something of moment was to be done by this advance on Barren Hill, and when it was shown to have come to naught, one can readily understand how great was the disappointment.

We heard on every hand words which told how much of confidence the men had placed on the movement; but none were grumbling. The advance had been of no avail; yet they were not discouraged.

Already were our people looking forward to the time when a second attempt would be made to worry the Britishers, and predicting that then the result would be far different.

It was near to nightfall when we were come to Valley Forge, and the Weaver of Germantown took special care to point out to us a small hut nearby headquarters, which we were to be allowed to occupy, and went to the extent of getting for us an order on the commissary for such food as could be procured by these half-starved men.

Now although I loved the Cause as well as any other man or lad in the colonies, my first thought when we were safe from the lobster-backs was concerning young Chris, rather than that which might have been called a disaster to our arms.

I feared he had allowed his tongue to bring him into trouble, else did it seem to me he should have been able to leave Philadelphia secretly, even as we had done; but whether the fault was his or no, we had no right to consider it at that moment.

Unquestionably he had been made a prisoner, for surely the lobster-backs could not have been talking about any other lad, because I knew of none who would have put themselves in the way of thus coming to grief.

He was our comrade, a member of our company of Minute Boys, and it was my duty, I having allowed them to call me the captain, to set all my wits at work to release him.

We had succeeded, even when all the chances appeared against us, in effecting the escape of Jeremy and Sam, and I secretly grieved over the fact that I had cut no better figure in that venture.

It was the Weaver of Germantown who had done all the work, and we lads were of little or no assistance to him, therefore as yet, so it seemed to me, the Minute Boys of Philadelphia had not shown themselves to any great advantage.

It is true we had succeeded in gaining valuable information, and had brought the same within the lines; but I burned to do more--to accomplish something which should make my name known to those who were staking their lives in battle, or against starvation.

It was necessary, so it seemed to me, that our first work, regardless of what might be needed in aid of the Cause, was to learn what had become of young Chris.

After all that had just happened I felt confident the lobster-backs would keep a sharper watch over us rebels than ever before, and if peradventure Chris had been thrown into prison, then did I despair, even though we had the aid of the Weaver of Germantown, in doing anything whatsoever toward effecting his release.

However, we would learn all that might be learned, even though we risked our lives again and again in the effort, and this much I said to my comrades when we were eating our scanty meal alone in the hut, whereupon Jeremy Hapgood, seemingly of the same opinion as I had advanced, asked quietly, as if ready to set off at a moment’s notice:

“How will you go about gaining this information which is necessary before we can raise a hand in young Chris’s behalf? I must confess, Richard Salter, that I question whether it will be possible for anyone to aid the poor lad just now, unless, peradventure, the British march out of Philadelphia, as it is rumoured General Clinton intends to do, although I misdoubt it greatly.”

“The only way, so far as I can see, is to go back from whence we came.”

“Into Philadelphia?” Timothy Bowers cried as if in alarm, and I replied, striving to speak in a careless tone as if familiar with such desperate ventures:

“Ay, lad, that is what must be done. At the Jolly Tar inn we may find a hiding place--”

“Yes, a hiding place!” Sam cried bitterly, “and where we must keep under cover if we would save our necks. Of what avail is it to be in that rear room of the Jolly Tar inn, eating our hearts out with impatience, as far as aiding young Chris is concerned?”

“That is what I cannot say, lad; but certain it is while we remain here there is no possibility of our doing anything whatsoever, and if we are in the city there is a chance, however slight, that we may see some way out of what is now a blind hobble.”

Although we Minute Boys of Philadelphia were not great in numbers, verily were we ready to do whatsoever came to our hand, and the proof of this is that when I had thus spoken, never a question was raised against the proposition. All appeared not only ready but willing to join me in going back to that nest of lobster-backs, where by this time we knew were many on the lookout to take us prisoners.

It was when the matter had thus been settled among us that the Weaver of Germantown came into the hut, and I fancy he understood by the expression on our faces that we had been discussing some matter which was far from pleasing, for he asked in a cheery tone, throwing himself upon the floor beside me, for the hut boasted of neither chairs nor bed:

“What have you lads in mind now?”

“To go back to Philadelphia as soon as may be,” I replied shortly, thinking he would attempt to persuade us that the venture was far too dangerous.

“That is exactly what you should do, lads, and what I am counting on doing myself within the next eight and forty hours, for now if ever is the time when we must keep in touch with what the Britishers are doing. If you set off at once, then may I delay so long as will be necessary to have a look about Chestnut Hill.”

Then he would have laid out our work for us, telling what we should do here or there, when I interrupted him by saying:

“It appears to me that our first duty is toward young Chris. It is certain, from what Sam and Tim heard, that Skinny Baker has succeeded in bringing the lobster-backs down upon him, and we must make the attempt, even though we fail, to lend him a hand.”

“Ay, lad, all that is as it should be; but remember this: Your first duty is to the Cause, and it is while you are working in behalf of the colonies that you will best be able to discover some way in which you can help Master Ludwig, if so be he is yet on this earth.”

“Do you fancy they might have killed him?” I cried in alarm, for until the man spoke there had been no such fear in my mind.

“It is possible,” the Weaver of Germantown said slowly and in a subdued tone. “The Britishers are not feeling overly happy just now, as we can well understand. The pretended attack on their outposts showed them that not only the rank and file, but the officers as well, are afraid of what this rag-tag and bobtail of an army may do. Then the failure to overwhelm the troops under General Lafayette, after Howe had boastingly declared that he would bring back the general to Philadelphia a prisoner, and even gone so far as to invite certain cronies of his to a supper where he might exhibit the captive. All this, I say, is well calculated to make the lobster-backs ill tempered, and if so be they succeed in laying hands upon a spy, and your Skinny Baker can prove to the satisfaction of any prejudiced person that young Chris has been working in the interests of the colonies, then there is the chance that he may have suffered the death.”

We lads were literally stupefied at the idea of such a possibility. We had believed young Chris might be held close prisoner; but more than that never entered our minds, and now, after hearing the Weaver of Germantown speak in such a solemn tone, while knowing that the arguments he advanced were sound ones, it seemed to us almost as if we had learned that Chris was indeed gone from among us forever.

The man could readily see how he had disheartened us by his words, and evidently believed it necessary to revive our courage if he would have us set off speedily for the city, therefore he said in what he doubtless counted should be a cheery tone:

“Do not look so downhearted, lads. I was but putting before you the worst side of the case. It is by no means certain your Skinny Baker could succeed in proving even to the Britishers that a boy like young Chris was a spy. Then again, with all the excitement which has been in the city during the past four and twenty hours, it might be a difficult matter even for Skinny’s father to have speech with any of the Britishers in command. Again, you are by no means certain young Chris is really in the hands of the British. Cease to think of him other than as one whom you count on finding without delay, and by such means you will not only succeed better in your work for the Cause, but be in shape to take a greater advantage of any opportunity which may come for helping him. When do you set off?”

I had not gone so far in my plans as to name the hour when we would leave Valley Forge. In fact, had counted on staying where we were at least another four and twenty hours, for the march from Barren Hill had been exceeding tiresome, and we were so weary that a rest seemed absolutely necessary. But when the man asked the question I replied quickly, as if it was a matter already settled:

“We go to-night.”

The other lads looked up in surprise, as if believing I had lost my wits to set off when all of us were leg weary; but no one made any comment save the Weaver of Germantown, who said in a tone of satisfaction:

“That is well. The sooner you can shelter yourselves in the Jolly Tar inn the better, and even though the lobster-backs are likely to be on the alert for us rebels, I believe you may gain entrance to the city more readily now than later. Just at this time it stands to reason that they are considerably upset regarding the failure of their plans, and surely whoever might be watching out for you--say for instance, Skinny Baker--will hardly be foolish enough to think you would come directly back after having made good your escape.”

I had committed myself to setting off at once, and lest the man should think I had been talking at random, I immediately rose to my feet, saying as I did so:

“I fancy we shall be the better able to make the journey if we set off before our limbs have stiffened, as they surely will if we remain here idle two or three hours more.”

Well, to make a short story out of what might well be a long one, we left Valley Forge within ten minutes, the Weaver of Germantown walking with us past all the sentries to be certain we had no difficulty in leaving the encampment, and then, when he would have turned back, I counted to hear from him some kindly word of encouragement because we were venturing our necks once more.

Instead of anything of the kind, he simply shook us by the hand as if we were going on an ordinary journey, and then turned to retrace his steps.

Eager though we were to prove ourselves worthy to be called Minute Boys, and burning to be of service to the Cause, there was never one of us who could put any enthusiasm in this march which might end in our death.

We, as I have already said, were weary almost to the verge of exhaustion, and the miles which lay before us seemed so nearly interminable that I felt almost as if we could not cover half of them without failing utterly.

No one was in the mood for conversation, and we plodded on in the darkness, keenly on the alert, however, for any sounds which should betoken the coming of an enemy; but hardly conscious whether we had traversed one yard or one mile.

I believe it was the possibility young Chris might have been executed as a spy that had taken the courage from us to such an extent; but this I do know to a certainty, that when the day was dawning we were not yet beyond Germantown, and Jeremy Hapgood said to me in the tone of one who will not brook opposition:

“I can go no farther, Richard Salter. Here nearby is a house where I believe we may remain in hiding during the day, and although I am so hungry that I could eat anything in the shape of food, yet must I lie by until another night has come, for my weariness is greater than the desire for something to eat.”

“Where may we remain hidden?” Sam asked, and I understood that he was decidedly of Jeremy’s opinion.

Then it was the lad told us of a house which had been partially destroyed by the Britishers when they marched into our city of Philadelphia, claiming that he had visited it more than once while the lobster-backs much the same as held us prisoners within our homes.

Without further parley we followed him, coming to what had originally been a small cottage, but was now hardly more than a ruin, yet here did it really seem as if we might find safe concealment, for it was possible, as Jeremy showed us, to gain admission to the cellar, and surely it must have been a suspicious lobster-back who would have looked beneath the charred timbers for a company of lads.

Although while talking with the Weaver of Germantown I had been strong in my determination to do whatsoever I might toward aiding young Chris, yet was I rejoiced at thus coming to a place where I could stretch my weary body out at full length, even though it was only on the bare ground, and without making any search of the place, for it was yet too dark to see clearly our surroundings, I threw myself upon the floor of the cellar and was lost in slumber almost as soon as I closed my eyes.

When next I was conscious of existence, the faint light which came in from beneath the charred timbers that overhung the cellar walls told me it was yet day, and I raised myself on my elbow to look around.

My comrades, lying even as they had thrown themselves upon the floor in exhaustion, were yet sleeping soundly, and dimly I wondered why I should have been the first to awaken, when the sound of footsteps just outside the building caused my heart to come into my throat, as the old saying goes.

I knew there were none of our people left roundabout Germantown, therefore whosoever was approaching our hiding place must be a Britisher or a Tory. In my fear, for verily I was timorous, I fancied we might have been tracked to this place, and now were come the lobster-backs to take us in custody.

Pressing my hand over Jeremy’s mouth lest he should make some outcry on being suddenly awakened, I shook him into consciousness, and at the same time motioned with my hand toward the outside, that he might understand there were possible enemies near at hand.

Then we two sat bolt upright, listening intently, as you can well fancy; learning before many seconds had passed that there were no less than four or five persons who had come somewhere near what had been a window in the cellar wall of the ruins, and were now taking a rest while discussing certain matters which concerned themselves.

So near were they to where we sat listening with all our heart in our ears, that we could hear distinctly every spoken word, and before we had thus played the eavesdroppers a dozen seconds did we come to understand that fate, or fortune, whatsoever you may term it, had brought us into the one place of all our colony of Pennsylvania where we had most desired to be.

The first words we heard were spoken in a voice thoroughly familiar to us, and we looked at each other in amazement, for it was Skinny Baker himself who was saying in a whining tone that caused all the anger within me to spring up, reddening my face until I knew it must have been nearly the color of blood:

“I tell you I heard all those fellows said concerning what they would do against the king,” the Tory cur was saying as if in answer to some reproof or question. “This lad here has been one of the foremost in starting what they call the Minute Boys of Philadelphia, and if you know aught regarding the people of our town, then do you know that Ludwig, the baker, is as rank a rebel as may be found within the colonies.”

Jeremy and I gazed at each other in astonishment. That which we had heard told us our comrade was within mayhap a dozen paces of where we sat, and I literally struggled to understand how it could have happened he was not already lodged in prison.

Before any of Skinny’s companions made reply there came to my mind like a flash of light an explanation of this matter, and it was much like this: I believed young Chris had been taken prisoner within a short distance, mayhap, of Barren Hill, and put under guard to be carried to Philadelphia. Skinny, who, there could be no question, was responsible for Chris’s arrest, had remained with these lobster-backs in order to gloat over the lad whom he had brought to grief; but why they had not come down in advance of the army I failed of understanding.

However, they must have loitered behind for some reason or another, or might have come as far as this place with the main body of troops and stopped here to rest, for those who wore the king’s uniform were not overly eager to do more of labour than was absolutely necessary.

I have said all this came into my mind like a flash, and it was within one single instant that I settled the matter, at least, to my partial satisfaction, and then understood why Skinny was striving to convince these men of young Chris’s guilt, for one of them said angrily, with that accent which bespoke the cockney Britisher:

“If it so happen good King George can be hurt by such an infant as this, then is it time we who have come to whip these rebels into subjection, turn about and go home. I enlisted to fight men, not children.”

“You watch this fellow a little while, and you’ll come to understand that there is no child about him,” Skinny replied vindictively. “Haven’t I already told you what he has done?”

“Yes, you have, lad, and yet I am not bound to believe it all. If a chap like you allows himself to be towed around a city filled with king’s troops without making any attempt at escaping, then is he likely to draw the long bow when he explains how it happened.”

It was only natural Skinny should be excited and angry at thus being much the same as told that he was a coward, and straightway he began explaining how we lads fell upon him in overwhelming numbers, and how impossible it was for him to make any outcry while we were marching him through the streets.

This explanation occupied so much time that I set about awakening Tim and Sam, even as I had aroused Jeremy, and the expression on their faces when they heard Skinny Baker talking would have been to me comical in the extreme, but for our situation.

A fellow cannot well laugh when he knows that within the next minute, perhaps, he may find himself a prisoner, and therefore it was their looks of surprise and dismay were passed by unheeded.

When Skinny had told his story with great detail, and a vast amount of untruth, one of the men asked as if it was a matter of little importance to him:

“And now having pointed out this boy as a rebel, what do you count will become of him? Is it in your mind he shall be dealt with as a spy?”

“Ay, that it is!” Skinny cried in a fury, and I could well fancy the expression of hatred on the miserable cur’s face as he spoke. “How else can he be dealt with after I have told the story of what he did?”

“That is as those who hear you may be inclined to say whether you are telling the truth in the interest of his majesty, or striving to pay off a private grudge.”

I could have hugged the man who made that suggestion, and really believe I laughed inwardly when Skinny, now so angry that he could not speak plainly, snarled:

“They will believe me when I show what he has done. It is well known he was among those who held me prisoner, and I can bring lads who will swear he did his best to make them agree to become Minute Boys. If such work as that doesn’t bring him to the gallows, then can every rebel in Philadelphia do whatsoever he may without fear of coming to grief.”

It was then another voice broke in, saying with a yawn, as if wearied by the controversy:

“Why shall we spend our breath talking of what may or may not be? It simply remains with us to carry this boy into the city and lodge him in the stone prison, after which we may go about our business, and blooming glad shall I be, for this escorting children around the country for the purpose of having them hanged later, is not to my liking.”

Then it was that Skinny would have repeated again the list of young Chris’s crimes; but that one of the men interrupted him by saying:

“We’ve heard that yarn once, and there is no need of your telling it again. I am wondering why the prisoner holds his tongue.”

That same thought was in my mind, for young Chris was never inclined to remain silent when there was any provocation to wag his tongue, and now, being almost the same as invited to defend himself, he said, speaking like a man:

“Much of what that Tory cur has said is true; a great deal is made up out of whole cloth. We did take him prisoner, because while being engaged in work of our own, he played the spy upon us, and we were not minded he should run to tell the news broadcast over the town, for it would look much as though we had been engaged in some unlawful transaction. When we laid hands on him, the wretch was so frightened that he did not dare defend himself even with his tongue. A lamb going to the slaughter-house couldn’t have moved more peaceably or willingly. The only regret I have is that he who has brought me into this trouble was not a decent fellow, and surely you who have seen and heard him can have a fairly good idea of what a cur he is.”

Jeremy clutched my hand tightly as if to show how proud he was because young Chris had spoken in such a manly fashion, and we lads looked at each other in triumph, for of a verity we had never given the lad credit for having so stiff a backbone.

From the tone of the conversation among the lobster-backs which followed, I could fancy our comrade had succeeded in gaining sympathy, if no more, by his speech, and that Skinny Baker had fallen even lower in their estimation than before; but nothing of consequence to us was said.

We now knew that young Chris was to be taken to the stone prison, and if so be he was confined there rather than in the work-house, then we might say with good reason that there was no chance whatsoever for us to aid him. No matter how favourable the circumstances were, there wasn’t a possibility we, even though with a dozen men like the Weaver of Germantown to help us, could do aught toward effecting his release.

However, we had at least learned his destination, which would prevent us from wasting our time in trying to discover where he might be, and this was no little gain.

More than that, we had gotten some satisfaction from having thus overheard the conversation between Skinny and the lobster-backs, since it served to show us of what mettle young Chris was made, and if so be it was permitted he should come from out his troubles, I said to myself that never again would I doubt his courage, nor never once raise my voice in reproach when, to my mind, he was speaking rashly or foolishly.