The rider of the black horse : a story of the American Revolution

Front matter

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BOOKS OF ADVENTURE

By Everett T. Tomlinson

Contents

On THE SHORE OF THE HuDSON.

A Puzzurnc INTERVIEW

AN ADVENTURE WITH THE Coweors >

Chapter I

Tue June day was near its close, and already the shadows of the great hills were lengthening as they were reflected in the waters of the lordly Hudson. Almost like glass the river itself extended, so quiet was the air and so still were the wooded shores. The heat of midday was no longer felt, but the oncoming night promised only a measure of relief, for the air was still sultry and the few thunderheads that had been banked low in the western sky had been scattered, and the heavens were now apparently cloudless.

Not far back from the western bank of the Hudson, a young man, apparently about nineteen years of age, on horseback, was following the rough roadway or path that led to the shore. Both his own appearance and that of the horse which he was riding indicated a weariness that the stalwart and muscular frame of the rider could not entirely conceal. It was evident that he had been in the saddle for a long time, and his dust-discolored face, streaked as it was where streams of perspiration had rolled down his cheeks, almost concealed the dark eyes and darker hair that under other circumstances would have been the most noticeable of his features.

‘‘ Never mind now, Nero! We’re almost at the place where we’ll get fodder and a chance to sleep, old fellow!”

Almost as if he understood the words and the gentle patting on the neck which his rider bestowed upon him, the little black horse raised and dropped his head as if he were nodding approval, and once more broke into a run.

“No, no, not that,” said his rider soothingly. “You ’ve covered more than a hundred miles since yesterday morning, and you’re entitled to a rest. Besides, old fellow, we’re not done yet. I wish we were at our journey’s end and well back on our way, don’t you?”

Again the horse threw his head up into the air as he came to a walk, and nervously lifted his feet as he picked his way over the stony road.

“If we get back into Jersey all right, Nero,” resumed the young rider, “maybe that General Washington will pat you on the shoulder and say, ‘ My trusty fellow,’ just as he did to me. It’s worth it all, Nero, if we can only help him a bit, now isn’t it?”

Despite his weariness it was a relief to young Robert Dorlon to speak aloud, although his faithful little steed could not make any response. For two days now he had been on his way from the hills of Jersey, where he had left Washington and his army facing the forces which Howe had sent in the early summer of 1777 to try to draw “the rebel” from his stronghold down into the plains, and give the redcoats battle. Of the issue of such a contest Howe and Cornwallis had never a question, and it is a natural inference that their wily foe had none either, for he steadily refused the challenge. Into the hills the redcoats had no mind to go, for the memory of Bunker Hill was still keen among them. However much they were inclined to belittle the courage and skill of the untrained farmers and farmers’ boys in the ranks of the defenders of the colonies when they met them, as they did in the battle of Long Island in the preceding summer, it was an altogether different affair when they tried, even with bayonets, to drive them from some stronghold.

Eager as the redcoats were to catch the illusive forces of “the fox,’ as the British somewhat suggestively had named Washington, the American commander was equally eager to hold them where they were, or in the vicinity of New York. For the campaign, as it had been planned this year by the British, was one that aroused the keenest anxiety among the American leaders. John Burgoyne, with his great army of redcoats, militia, and Indians, was striving to force his way from Montreal, up Lake Champlain and Lake George, and then on to Albany. At the same time Colonel Barry St. Leger was marching with another army of redcoats and redmen from Osweg‘o, in the hope of sweeping away every vestige of opposition as he proceeded on his way through the Mohawk Valley toward Albany, where he fondly hoped that his forces would join the victorious troops of John Burgoyne.

At the same time, up the Hudson from New York it was believed that Howe or Clinton would come with adequate forces to drive away all opposition, and when the three armies ~ had united at Albany, then the American colonies would be effectively cut asunder, and all that the victorious British would have to do, would be to conquer either part at their leisure.

The plan certainly was one that promised well, and Washington’s energies were at once directed toward an effort to hold the redcoats in or near New York and prevent them from going up the Hudson to the aid of their northern army, while Howe, Clinton, and Cornwallis were equally busy in striving to accomplish a similar result among their enemies. The early summer of 1777 accordingly became a time when the men of either side were tested as they seldom were throughout the eight weary years of the struggle for American independence.

It became, therefore, of the utmost importance to Washington to know how it fared in the north, and “‘ expresses ’’ were provided, — men who rode swiftly from one American post to the one that was nearest it, and there delivered their missive or message to their waiting successors, who in turn rode swiftly to the next point in the line, while the others retraversed their way with a word from the opposite direction.

In addition to these ‘‘ expresses,” however, Washington was accustomed to make use of certain trusty men who were to go directly from the army in Jersey to the forts on the

Hudson, or to the army in the north, with the letter that was to be placed directly in the hands of the northern commander, and likewise to receive from him the word which in turn he was to bear back to the anxious leader in the Jersey hills.

Among the men assigned to the latter task was young Robert Dorlon, who already had twice made the journey and now was well advanced on his third. The need of haste on his part had been most impressively emphasized by the commander when he had set forth, and the recollection of his kindly words and confidence was even now, despite his weariness, strong in the thoughts of the young rider. It was General Maxwell who had selected him for the task and had commended him to Washington, confident alike in _ his strength, his discretion, and his energy. And a chance observer would speedily have declared that all these qualities were marked in the young man’s bearing. His physical strength was apparent in every movement he made, his face at once begat confidence, and his manner was dignified despite the twinkle and the mischief that lurked only partly concealed in the dark eyes of young Robert. A frolic or a “rough and tumble” was his delight, and as a wrestler his fame had gone throughout the little army stationed in New Jersey. A contest between himself as a representative of a Jersey regiment and a young soldier from Pennsylvania had been arranged for the very day when he had been compelled to leave camp with his message for the army in the north, but his own necessary departure had prevented the meeting, for which he was almost as eager as his friendly and enthusiastic messmates had been for him.

And now as the June day drew to a close, Robert Dorlon found himself near the place where he was no longer to follow the shores of the Hudson, but was to obtain rest for the night at the humble abode of Dirck Rykman. In his former journey Robert had crossed to Peekskill and left a message for sturdy Israel Putnam, who was in command at the time of the patriot forces there, but the recent activities of the redcoats in that vicinity had caused Washington to direct his young “express ”’ this time to proceed farther up the river before he even halted, for all chances were now to be avoided. The rumors and reports from the northern army had been of a character to render the leaders most anxious, and it was deemed wise to insist upon all haste in the journey which Robert Dorlon was making. The young man had clearly understood the demands upon him and was keenly alive to the part which he was to take.

The sun had just sunk below the western horizon, leaving behind it a brilliant sky, whose lurid colors Robert clearly perceived portended a morrow that would be even warmer than the present day had been. It was then with a sigh of relief that he perceived the little log house before him, where the young Dutchman with his wife and two little children dwelt. Only once had Robert seen him before, having stopped at his home over night on his most recent return from the north. Of Dirck’s devotion to the cause of the colonies General George Clinton himself had been the voucher, and in many ways it was whispered that the young man had already been of aid to the patriots stationed in the highlands.

“Good-day to you, Dirck Rykman,”’ called Robert, as he guided his horse into the pathway that led to the house, which was partly concealed from the sight of a passer-by by the bushes and trees that were in front of it.

Dirck himself he had seen standing in front of his home, leaning upon the handle of his hoe and apparently lost in meditation.

The young Dutchman hastily changed his position and glanced up at the unexpected hail. In a moment he perceived who his visitor was; but though he advanced to meet him, he was still visibly abstracted or troubled as he grasped the outstretched hand.

“¢ How are the vrouw and the babies ?”’ continued Robert, who, in the thought of the rest from his long ride, was once more in high spirits. “Got room and a bed for me to-night ?”’ he added, as he flung himself from the saddle to the ground, and stood holding his horse by the bridle.

“‘ There is room and a welcome,” replied the Dutchman slowly, “ but”? —

“Take me across the river if it isn’t all right,” interrupted Robert quickly. “I can find a place on the other side” —

“No. Nein. There is room and a welcome. It is not that.” Dirck spoke in low tones and almost unconsciously glanced toward the house as he spoke.

“ What is it then?”

“There is somebody here.”

“Who?” demanded Robert hastily, though he too dropped his voice.

“JT do not know. You shall help me say when you see him.”

‘¢ How many ?”

“One,

“‘ Where is he now?”

“In the house.”

For a moment Robert was silent, minded to ask more questions ; but Dirck’s suggestion that he could help decide when he himself had seen the man, and the fear that his conversation with the Dutchman might be overheard, caused him to hesitate. As he glanced again toward the house, he was positive that he could see the form of a man even then behind the vine that had been trained upon the lattice-work in front of a part of the house.

‘Shall I take my horse back into the woods?” inquired Robert, referring to the concealment of his faithful animal which had been deemed wise on the occasion of his recent visit.

“Nein. No. I will put the horse in my barn. It was already too late to hide him. We shall see later.”

“ That ’s good of you, Dirck. You take him and give him a good rubbing down and Ill run down to the shore for a swim. I’ll not be gone long, and I’ll see to feeding Nero myself when I come back. That’s something

I would n’t let my own mother do for you, would I, Nero?” he added, softly rubbing the nose of his horse as he spoke.

Flinging the rein to the Dutchman, Robert ran swiftly down the bank until he arrived at a secluded spot on the shore, and quickly removing his clothing, plunged into the river. For a time he was almost unmindful of his weariness and previous discomfort, as he swam about in the water; but the oncoming night and his uneasiness concerning Dirck’s visitor soon caused him to return to the shore, where he hastily donned his clothing and prepared to return to the house. Before he had climbed the bank, however, he perceived Dirck approaching, and instantly he halted, waiting for his friend to come near.

“How’s Nero? Have you rubbed him down?” demanded Robert.

“Yaas. I had some help.”

“ Who helped you ?”

* The man.”

“Your visitor?’ inquired Robert hastily.

Dirck nodded his head in reply, but did not speak.

“ How long has he been here?”

** About an hour.”

*‘ What does he have to say for himself ?”

“He wants me to keep him over night and ferry him across the river in the morning.”

“ Does he say where he’s going?”

“‘ He says he was doing somedings for General Clinton.”

“He does? Does he say what?”

“No. Nein,” replied Dirck, shaking his head.

“Naturally he wouldn’t do that. Did he know who you were, Dirck, or did he just chance to stop at your house ?”

“T cannot tell. He” —

Dirck stopped abruptly as the sound of a footfall was heard near them, and as both men glanced up they beheld a man approaching. To the unspoken question in Robert’s — eyes, Dirck quickly nodded, and the young “express” knew that the visitor whose arrival had perplexed and troubled Dirck was before him. He was glad that he had an opportunity to see the man before he spoke, but his hasty glance was interrupted by the stranger himself.

Chapter II

SranD1nG in the pathway before him, Robert saw a young man a few years older than himself, dressed in the ordinary garb of the country people. The light was too dim to enable him to see the face and its expression clearly, but there was something in the bearing of the man that at once impressed him strongly. That the stranger possessed great physical strength was evident, and as soon as he spoke Robert Dorlon shared in Dirck’s suspicions, although he would have found it difficult to explain even to himself why it was that he distrusted him.

“Why didn’t you let me know what you were doing?” said the stranger lightly. “I’d have been only too glad to join you.”

“Tt isn’t too late now. The water is all here,” replied Robert.

“Too late. It’s always my luck — just too late for everything.”

“Not too late for supper it was,” said Dirck soberly.

16 THE RIDER OF THE BLACK HORSE “The good wife may think it is,” laughed

Robert. ‘ Does she know she has two more to feed to-night, Dirck ?”

Acting at once upon Robert’s suggestion, the three men immediately turned back toward the house, Robert himself hastening in advance of them to the barn, where he fed his black horse,—a task which on his journeys he never intrusted to another. When he, too, approached the house he perceived Direk Rykman’s little girl Mina standing in the doorway, and at once lifting her to his shoulder he entered the room with the child holding fast to his hair while he danved about in pretended pain.

“Oh, Mina,” he cried, “‘ you ’re worse than a Tory! Let me go, and I’ll seeif I can’t find something in my pocket. Don’t you remember that I promised to bring you something when I came again?” In spite of his apparent carelessness, Robert had glanced keenly at, the visitor when he had spoken of the “Tory,” but the man apparently was unmoved by the reference and was laughing as heartily as the others when Mina was swung to the floor.

It was some time before Robert discovered the little packages in his pocket and with a bow handed one to the little Mina and the other to her mother, whom he had already greeted.

“TY don’t know very much about the taste of the ladies, but they seem to be somewhat alike,” he added laughingly, as with eager hands his gifts were opened and brightly colored ribbons were disclosed in each.

At Dirck’s suggestion, however, the little party was speedily seated at the rude table upon which Mistress Rykman had already placed the smoking supper. A lighted candle added its pleasing effect to the plain but tempting fare, and the men were all speedily doing ample justice to the culinary skill of their hostess.

“Youre a stranger in these parts, I see.”

Robert looked up quickly as the other visitor spoke, and in the light he could see that the man was keenly regarding him.

* What makes you say that?”

The stranger laughed as he replied, “ Your question would be answer enough of itself, if there was n’t any other reason for thinking so. The people on the shores of the Hudson don’t answer one question by asking another.”

“By the same token one would know that you did not belong here, either.”

“Oh, I don’t belong here, that’s true enough,” said the other lightly.

Now that he was enabled to perceive plainly the face of the man, Robert became more strongly convinced that the visitor was one who was abundantly able to protect himself. His face was strong, the glance of his eye was keen, and there was an indefinable something that pervaded him that spoke of a larger experience in life than belonged to most of the dwellers in the colonies.

“Where might your home be?’’ inquired Robert bluntly.

*¢ It ‘might be’ in any one of a dozen places, but as a matter of fact it is n’t in any one of them.”

The laugh of the man was somehow uritating to Robert, but he was not to be turned from his purpose now, and boldly continued his questioning.

“‘ very one is supposed to be able to give an account of himself in these days,” he said soberly.

“A most excellent plan. I was about to quire who you were and where you came from.”

Robert’s face flushed slightly as he realized that his own question had been turned back upon himself, but he answered quickly, “ Oh, I’m not afraid nor ashamed to tell who I am. My name is Robert Dorlon, and I’m the sixth in direct descent to bear the name, too.”

“ A good name. I once met a man of that name in London. Perhaps he was a relative of yours,” he added quizzically.

“It may be. We came from England, or at least my grandfather did.”

“ But you are Americans now?”

“ Every inch of us!” said Robert stoutly, though he perceived even while he was speaking that the man was drawing him on without declaring anything about himself. ‘“ Now that I have told you who I an, it is your turn to favor us with a similar word about yourself,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I am English born too,” said the stranger lightly, “but I don’t know that I can say much more. I’m a wayfaring man, and sometimes I almost suspect that I am a fool, too. But whatever else Iam, I can assure you that I am a good friend of General Clinton.”

“So is every one here,” said Robert quickly.

“T suspected as much, and that was one reason why I stopped at the home of Dirck Rykman for the night, and have engaged him to ferry me across the Hudson to-morrow morning early. Doubtless you, too, have a similar plan in your mind.”

“ Are you going to Fort Montgomery?” inquired Robert quickly. “That is where General Clinton is now.”

“‘T’m a wayfaring man, as I told you,” said the stranger, the corners of his mouth trembling slightly as he spoke, “and Fort Montgomery may be as good a place for me as any other. You know the way there?”

“Every bit of it. We can go on together. You have no horse, though,’ Robert added hastily.

“No, I have no horse at present,’ admitted the stranger quietly.

“ Your name, it was what ?”’ inquired Dirck, who up to this time had not taken any part in the conversation.

“My name? Some people might call it ‘Legion’ — but Russell is the one by which I am ordinarily known. Ever heard the name before ?”

“The name, it was known,” said Dirck slowly.

“There! I told you it was legion. Everywhere you find it, and every one appears to know it. You don’t happen to know of the name belonging to any one in this part of the world,do you?” The man was speaking quietly, but as he turned toward Dirckas he spoke, Robert, who was watching him, was impressed that the man’s interest in the Dutchman’s reply was much keener than it appeared to be.

“1 know of one Russell,” said Dirck slowly. “T do not know him.”

“And perhaps all the better for you,” laughed the man. “ Where does this particular Russell happen to live ?”’

“ He was not at home.”

‘So? Gone to join Clinton’s men perhaps.”

“There was two Clintons. One was in New York and one was not.”

For a moment the expression of the man’s face changed slightly, or at least Robert fancied that it did, and then he said with a laugh, “‘T did not think there was but one up here on the Hudson. Sir Henry is so far away I did not think he would count. The only one I thought was of any importance hereabouts is George Clinton the — the commander at Fort Montgomery.”

*‘ General George Clinton is there.”

“ But you can’t tell me where my namesake Russell is?”

“ He was a wayfaring man and one fool.”

The expression on Dirck’s face was bland and innocent, but the stranger glanced keenly at him before he spoke.

“ Oh, you think he is one of the ‘ Legion,’ too, do you? Well, I want to run across him some day. I should like to see how one of the family looked after living in this co — region for a while. Just now I think I'll let him rest, and [ll take mine too, if you are willing. I am tired, and must be stirring early to-morrow morning. What time shall we start?” he added, turning to Robert.

‘“ Before sunrise,’ said Robert.

“That will suit me. I have no horse and we may not journey far together, but I hope to have one soon, and it may be that we shall have other meetings also. I bid you all good-night,” he added, as he took the candle which Dirck had lighted and followed his host to the loft.

Robert still was seated at the table when Dirck returned to the room, and his thoughts were far from pleasing. He blamed himself for having so quickly revealed his name and the journey he was making. He had too quickly assumed that the General Clinton to whom Russell declared he was going was the same general who naturally was uppermost in his own mind. Besid*, he was now suspicious of the man, whose confidence in himself and his easy manners proclaimed an ability to care for himself and an apparent absence of fear that somehow were not reassuring to the young soldier.

His thoughts were interrupted by the return of Dirck, who placed his candle on the table, and taking a seat close to Robert’s, said, as he shook his head, “I likes it not, Robert. He was too much talk. Which General Clinton is he going to see?”

“Tf it was Sir Henry he would not be here. He’d be nearer New York,” suggested Robert, in reality striving to reassure himself.

“ But he comes from up the river.”

“ He did?”

‘We must talk low,’ admonished Dirck, whose voice was not much above a whisper. ‘¢ And he was a Russell, too.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Perhaps sometimes you will read one letter,” replied Dirck, as he drew from his pocket a discolored piece of paper and handed it to his friend. Robert eagerly grasped the epistle, and spreading it out before him, with difficulty made out the following letter : *—

1 This letter is an exact reproduction of one which was sent General George Clinton. Even the unique spelling has been retained.

24 THE RIDER OF THE BLACK HORSE June 14th, 1777.

Honorap Sir: —a Cordoing to. your or ders I went with a part of the Light hors in Sarch of Russell; when I come within a Mile and a half of his hous I aplied to Mr. Conklon; ho was acquented with him and sent 2 of the Light hors with him in disgis afoot ; as the went thru the woods ner Russells hous the met a man in the woods and the seemed to be Surprised ; he told them not to frited ; asked them from whence the Come; the Replayd from New York; he told them the need not be afred ; the was all good frends about there and asked what news from New York and wither general How was Coming up the River or not; with that there was a woman apered ; he told them to Clap down and hid, when the woman Come near he sed the need not be afred for that was one Russells wife and that hir Husbant was gon off Las night to New York, and if he had been at hom wald been very glad to have seen them; he had been at hom for sum time but had not been in his hous but three nights; this man Invited them hom with him, but the Sead that the darst not; the must go the Mountains; he sed that he had Last winter Carred provisions for 10 or 12 in the Mount’s and in the spring the set of for New York. Mr. Conklin went privately Inquiring for Creaters he had Lost ; and from all he Cold Larn he thinks he has gon off; I believe ther is no sesposhin that we wer after him, as for Wood I did not Know wither to go in Sarch of him or no for fear of discovring the mater; I shall weight the generals advise about Wood, wither it is best to go and sarch for the money or not. [am your Honors most obedant ombel Servant, Sam’t Logan.

To GENERAL GEORGE CLINTON.

“Where and how did you get this?” inquired Robert in a whisper, after he had deciphered the discolored epistle with great difficulty.

“To-day. I knew you were coming and so I waited, for you can take it to the general to-morrow.”

‘¢ And this man Russell who is here” —

“T do not know.”

“Do you think he is the Tory?”

“He may be, or he may be one sent out to meet him.”

‘“‘ Have you ever seen this man before ?”

“No. Nein.”

“‘ Or the Russell who lives near here?”

“Nein. No.”

“T know what I’ll do, I’ll” —

Robert stopped abruptly, as a sound outside the house was heard which caused both men to rise hastily and move swiftly and yet cautiously to the door in the rear of the room.

Chapter III

A sounp, faint and yet distinct, had been heard by both men coming from the road, and when they heard it repeated they rushed from the house, a great fear having suddenly seized upon Robert. Neither spoke for a moment as they discerned the outlines of a horse led by a man, who was holding the animal by the bridle, disappearing around the bend of the road.

“You don’t suppose it’s my horse, do you?” inquired Robert in a whisper.

Dirck made no response as he darted back into the house and hastily mounted the ladder that led to the room above. Robert followed his friend into the house, but waited with such calmness as he could assume for the report to be made.

“¢ Come, Robert, come up here,” called Dirck from the loft.

With feverish haste Robert clambered up the ladder, and as he stepped out upon the floor he required no further explanation, for the man was gone. A low open window was in one end of the room, and running to it Robert peered out at the ground below him. It was not more than eight or nine feet from the window to the ground, and the stranger might easily have departed from the house by dropping from the opening.

Convinced that Russell had disappeared in this manner, Robert instantly followed his example; and as soon as he felt the grass beneath his feet he ran swiftly to the little barn, and, flinging open the door, peered eagerly within. His worst fears were confirmed, for his horse was no longer there. For a moment he stood stupidly staring at the stall where a few moments before he had left Nero to enjoy his well-earned rest; but he was roused from his lethargy by the approach of the young Dutchman.