The Boys of Old Monmouth Part 25

"About a mile, I'm thinkin'."

"What? What's that you say? Only a mile from here?"

"That's what I'm tellin' yez. The army's been marchin' in the night; but this rain will be after compellin' it to halt right in--in Gooseberry, as I'm told they call it."

"Cranberry," laughed the lieutenant.

"Cranberry or Gooseberry is all one and the same thing to me. Now, me bye, ye'll be after wantin' some breakfast, I'm thinkin'. Jest say the word and I'll be fixin' ye out, and have a bit left over for yer poor baste, which doesn't look as if he'd been livin' any too high of late."

"No, no, Molly," protested the lieutenant quickly, and, as Tom thought, with an eagerness he could not understand. "We're not hungry, for we had some breakfast before we started this morning. We did indeed," he added, as he noted the woman's apparent unbelief. "We're not hungry, but it's kind of you to think of us, and we thank you just the same as if you had fed us."

In the course of the conversation between the young lieutenant and the men in the barn, Tom learned that the main body of the army was now less than a mile away. The little band had been one of the advance parties, and the storm had compelled them to seek the shelter of the barn by the roadside.

Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall, and long after the thunder ceased the storm showed no signs of abating. The water almost covered the road and penetrated the roof of the barn, which was far from being in a good state of repair. The heavy downpour, however, did not seem to cool the air, and the men and horses were in a sad plight. Just why they should have sought the shelter, which virtually was no shelter at all, Tom could not understand; but he asked no questions, and busied himself in listening to the conversation of the men, and watching the intrepid Molly, who to all appearances was not aware of the fact that she was not as much of a true soldier as any of the men.

After a half hour had pa.s.sed the lieutenant approached the boy, who was standing before the open door, looking out upon the storm.

"Who is she? What is she?" inquired Tom, indicating by a glance of his eyes the strange woman whom his friend had addressed as "Molly."

"She? Oh, she's the wife of one of the cannoneers. She's been in the army for a long time. She's from New Jersey, too, I understand, though her husband's home is in Pennsylvania."

"I didn't know there were women in the army."

"Oh yes, there have always been some. Why, even on that expedition of Arnold's to Quebec there were several women who marched all the way with their husbands, and they say they stood the long tramps and the cold better than a good many of the men did."

"Why did you call this woman 'Molly'? Is that her name?"

"Oh, in the army, or at least in this army, the women have been the ones to bring us water on the warm days, and so we call each one Molly 'Pitcher.' They've been kept busy during this hot spell, too. This woman's name I believe is really Molly, though,--Molly McCauley. Then you didn't expect to see women with their husbands in the army?" laughed the lieutenant, as he noticed that Tom was regarding Mistress McCauley curiously.

"No, I didn't. I don't think I like it."

"You'll find all sorts and kinds of people in the ranks. Some of the women have been worth more than the men. There was one up at Fort Clinton. She was very much such a looking woman as Captain Molly here, only she was a good deal more careless. They used to call her 'Dirty Kate,' because she wasn't always very neat in her personal appearance.

But she was brave as a lion, and such a fighter! Why, she fired the last cannon at the British, as they came scrambling over the ramparts, which happened to be about the same time our men were leaving. Well, Kate's husband was a cannoneer, just as Molly's here is, and he was holding the match in his hand ready to fire the gun when he saw the redcoats coming, and the sight suddenly reminded him that he had some work to do outside the fort which demanded his immediate attention. Well, Kate just picked up the match her husband had dropped, touched off the cannon, and then scampered away after the men. She was a brave woman, and so is Captain Molly, here. She'd do as well as Kate did, if she had the chance, and perhaps she will before the end comes. I shouldn't want to have her fight me, I can tell you!"[2]

Tom turned and looked again at the woman. She stood talking with her husband now, and her strange garb served to intensify her peculiarities.

Her great size and evident strength were plainly to be seen, but her face beamed with good nature, and her enjoyment of the life she was living was indicated by her every word and action.

Tom thought of Sarah, and the contrast between her gentleness and the rough appearance and masculine manners of Captain Molly aroused within him a feeling which was not altogether in favor of the soldier woman. It is true that the name of Sarah is unknown to-day, while that of Captain Molly Pitcher is recorded in all our school histories; but, after all, notoriety may not be the most valuable quality in life, and while the names of many men and women who lived quiet, faithful, honest lives may have been forgotten by their descendants, they may not have been of the less value to the world because of that fact. A good name is sometimes better than a notorious one, and an honest man, though he may be soon forgotten, may be greater than a dishonest man whose name is frequently mentioned. Few of us would desire to be like Benedict Arnold, although his name is a very familiar one to all.

"I don't see any use in staying here," said Tom at last. "It's wet inside the barn, and it can't be much worse outside. Why don't we start on?"

Now that he was so near to the American army, the lad was eager to go forward. All his dreams and visions of the forces which were fighting against the redcoats came back to him, and his impatience to proceed increased each moment. Perhaps the sight and presence of Captain Molly, as well as the account the young lieutenant had given of her, had created a still greater desire in Tom's heart to quit the place; but, be that as it may, he was ready to go, and apparently his companion shared in his feeling.

"If you think your horse will stand up for a mile, we might do as you say," replied the lieutenant. "I think we'll be going on," he added, turning to the men as he spoke. "I've some important information to give the general, and as I don't see any signs of the rain stopping, I think we ought not to delay longer. We can't be much worse off than we are now."

"Sure, and ye'll not be after goin' out in such a storm as this!"

protested Molly. "It would be a shame to take that poor baste out into the rain now. He has all he can do to stand up in the barn, to say nothin' of havin' to be carryin' a load. It's the last drop that'll be after breakin' of his back, yez know."

The men all laughed at the woman's words, but the lieutenant was not to be deterred, and accordingly the horses were brought forth and the two men speedily mounted. Tom's horse was limping painfully when he started, and as the lad glanced backward he could see Captain Molly standing in the doorway, her hands resting upon her hips, and her broad, freckled face beaming with delight over the sorry spectacle he was well aware that he presented.

A feeling of disgust arose in his heart as he watched her. Surely she must be lacking in all the qualities which he had most honored in the women he knew. Coa.r.s.eness was in place of delicacy, boldness instead of modesty, and her entire bearing was such that Tom never afterwards could hear her name mentioned without expressing his disgust. Not even the bravery of the deed which Captain Molly Pitcher did not many hours after this time, and which Tom Coward himself witnessed, entirely banished the prejudice which he entertained against the coa.r.s.e, good-natured, manly, unwomanly woman.

The storm had ceased when, after a short ride, Tom and his companion first came within sight of the American army. All the long pent-up hopes of the lad were now about to be fulfilled, and for the first time in his life he was to look upon the men whose names and deeds had long been familiar to him. His eagerness brought a smile to his companion's face, but while he watched the lad he did not speak.

Molly Pitcher had spoken truly, and the American army had halted after a brief march from Kingston in the preceding night, and now were compelled to remain during the entire day in Cranberry. Only the advance corps had moved forward, and at that time were holding a position on the road to Monmouth Court House and within five miles of the rear of the British.

In spite of his own excitement, and that which was apparent among the men in the camp when Tom and the lieutenant entered, the lad's first feeling was one of keen disappointment. Were these the men of whom he had heard so much and from whom so much was expected? Mud-stained, worn by their recent exertions, plainly showing the effects of the intense heat, many of them without uniforms, some hatless and coatless, to the vision of Tom Coward they presented far more the appearance of a mob than of the orderly and well-trained soldiers he had expected to see.

The young lieutenant had left him as soon as they entered the camp, leading the two horses away with him,--a fact over which Tom did not long lament, we may be sure. An hour pa.s.sed before the young officer returned, for he was to make a report of all that he had learned, and Tom's hopes were not strengthened as he watched the men about him during his companion's absence.

Lieutenant Gordon noticed the expression upon Tom's face when he rejoined him, but, attributing it to the fear which he supposed the lad felt, he did not refer to it, and in the labors which soon followed no opportunity to explain was given by either.

General d.i.c.kinson, with the New Jersey militia, was not with the main body, as we already know, and Tom found that he could not be a.s.signed to them. Through the lieutenant's influence, he was to be retained with the main body, and to a.s.sist in serving as a guide for the army, an office which Tom was well fitted to hold, although it was not just in accord with the plans he had formed in his own mind.

Reports came into the camp during the day which clearly indicated that the advance corps was too far away to be properly supported at once in the present condition of the roads. But on Sat.u.r.day morning Lafayette, with his troops, was ordered to file off by his left towards Englishtown, and in the same day the main body, under General Was.h.i.+ngton, marched out from Cranberry and encamped within three miles of the place.

This brought the two opposing armies now within eight miles of each other, while General Lee's forces, five thousand strong, without Morgan's dragoons or the New Jersey militia, were three miles nearer the British.

Such was the condition of affairs on that night of Sat.u.r.day, June 27 (1778), and Tom Coward, as well as many of the men in Was.h.i.+ngton's army, slept but little, with the knowledge that on the morrow the long delayed battle would doubtless be begun.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] In many of our histories the "Captain Molly" of Monmouth has been confounded with "Dirty Kate" of Fort Clinton. They were, however, two women,--not one. Lossing, in the first edition of his _Field Book of the American Revolution_, referred to them as if they were identical, but the correction was to have been made for his second edition, and was in type, but through an oversight was omitted.

CHAPTER XXIII

AN INTERRUPTED JOURNEY

THE surprise of Little Peter at the unexpected action of Benzeor was increased when the escaping man seated himself in the whaleboat and quickly began to row the long craft back toward the Was.h.i.+ngton.

"Hurrah for the redcoats! Hurrah for King George! Hurrah for the Britis.h.!.+" shouted Benzeor defiantly.

This boldness was as surprising to Peter as the sudden departure had been; but, as he glanced toward the Was.h.i.+ngton and saw that the attacking party had already boarded her, and then realized that he himself had been left alone by his recent companions, he was quickly recalled to the necessity of action on his own part. Without waiting to observe the further movements of Benzeor or the British, he instantly turned and entered the woods; but a quarter of an hour had elapsed before he overtook the men, whom he found resting by the side of the road which led past the home of Ted Wilson.

To this house the entire party now made their way, and as Ted listened to the story of Benzeor's perfidy, his anger broke forth afresh.

"I never ought to have let the rascal go!" exclaimed Ted excitedly. "I had him right there in the river, and if you hadn't interfered with me I'd have fixed him so that he never would have betrayed any one again.

Now the rascal's where he can keep up his evil doings."

"He's shown where he stands, any way. That's some comfort," said one of the men.

"It may comfort you, but it doesn't me," replied Ted. "I'm a peaceable man, I am, and I never cared much about whether it was to be the King of England or the Continental Congress that ruled over me. I don't see as it would make very much difference to me, for my part. But when that rascal hangs my Sallie up on the limb of a tree,--Sallie's my wife, ye know,--why, then Benzeor Osburn has jest got to look out for himself."

Ted's anger was so evident that Little Peter almost had a feeling of sympathy for Benzeor, angry as he himself was at the treachery his neighbor had displayed.