A lieutenant under Washington; a tale of the Brandywine and Germantown

Front matter

Class ZEZ4

Book -T.5^4

GopighfN 0 J-l_

Preface

In this tale I have endeavored to interest my young readers in some of the stirring events of that famous year of 1777. The battles, although they were not all won, were nevertheless not lost, for they all helped to develop and reveal the true men who were indeed the fathers of our country.

The basis of most of the incidents used was found in early and “ out of print ” books, so that the story in a measure is “ true.” The experiences of the hardy men are no less a real part of our history than were the battles fought. The heroism they displayed ought to be inspiring, though to-day the “hero” may never be called upon to display his power by bearing arms. Courage, patience, fortitude, and hope are qualities of life that are ever in demand.

If an interest shall be aroused in the history of our country by the reading of this story, and the young people be led to make further investigations of their own, the writer will feel that his labor has not been in vain.

EVERETT T. TOMLINSON.

Elizabeth, New Jersey.

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. A False Alarm 1

II. An Unwilling Prisoner .... 14

CHAPTER I “ It ’s a long waiting we are having here, Hugh.”

“ There might be worse things than wait-

“ That ’s true, but we did n’t come here to do nothing.”

“ 6 Nothing ’ ? Do you call it c nothing ’ we ’ve been doing this summer, Lieutenant ? To my mind, it ’s a great trick the general has played on Cornwallis. Just think how busy he ’s kept his lordship all summer long. He would n’t give the redcoats the chance to fight in the open they wanted, and yet General Washington has held every man Jack of them right here in Jersey at Amboy, or kept them cooped up in New York like a hen with chickens. They could n’t go up the Hudson to help John Burgoyne, and though they ’ve tried to jnake us believe they were going to strike Boston or Philadelphia they haven’t forced our man. They knew, I ’m thinking, it would n’t be just safe to leave New York so that General Washington could have the chance to show what he could do with his army there. No, sir, Lieutenant ! It ’s the best kind of work we ’ve been doing all summer long ! ” As he spoke the elder man lifted his eyes from the frying-pan he was holding out over the fire and gazed reprovingly at the young officer who was seated on the ground near him. “ Besides,” he added thoughtfully, as he once more gave his attention to the task of preparing supper, “ it is n’t too late yet for the waiting to stop and the work to begin.”

“ I know it, Hugh ; I know it ’s just as you say,” replied the young lieutenant quickly. “ But there are a good many of the men who are becoming hard to manage. Ever since General W ashington gave out his order about gambling and foraging, it seems as if every one was almost ready to break out in some way. It keeps the officers busy, I can tell you ! ”

“What would you have him do?” demanded his friend. “ Take it all back ? ”

“ No, not that ; I ’m not complaining, only it ’s hard, that ’s all I mean. I went past the tavern , 1 and I saw the general come out and jump on the back of that little bay pony of his — you know the horse, don’t you, Hugh ? ”

“ To be sure I do. I never see it without wondering why such a big man as the general is, should ride such a small horse. His stirrups almost touch the ground when he is on its back.”

“ I know it. It is strange ; but the horse is a beauty, and can go like the wind. The redcoats would have plenty to do if they tried to chase him when he was on the back of that little bay. I saw him start out this afternoon, as I was telling you, and there wasn’t any one with him either, except his mulatto boy, Bill ; but the way in which he started off made me think there might he something going on that would make it interesting for us all, he seemed to be so stirred up.”

u You can’t tell by any such trick as that,” said Hugh, shaking his head. “ That’s the way he has of doing everything, — he just acts as if he thought everything he did was

1 Freeman’s tavern, General Washington’s headquarters at Morristown, N. J., in 1777.

the most important thing in the whole world. I believe that if he had to polish his own spurs, he’d do it with all his might, mind, and strength. It does n’t seem to make any difference to him whether the matter is big or little, he just goes right at it as if that was the one thing that must be done right and done then. It ’s a trick he has.”

“ All I can say is, then,” laughed the young officer, “ that I wish there was more of the same feeling among the men. I ’m sure I find it hard to keep the men under me up to any sort of a mark.”

“ That ’s just it. That ’s just it,” said Hugh soberly.

“ What ’s just it ? I don’t see what you mean.”

“ That ’s just the reason why some men will always have to do what others tell ’em to, and others have to tell ’em what to do. They ’re born that way, and can’t help it any more ’n a hound dog can help chasing a buck. An’ then they wonder why ’t is that some has the good luck to be made officers and lord it over the others, an’ why ’t is that they can’t get the same places for themselves. I tell you ’t is n’t the nature o’ things ! When a man slides over his work, an’ does n’t see what to do, an’

does n’t do what he sees, why he ’s just bound for to be a man to do what others tell him to do, just as long as he draws this ‘ fleeting breath/ as the psalm tune says. Are n’t you a lieutenant, Henry ? ”

“ I suppose I am,” replied the young officer with a laugh.

“ W ell, is n’t that just what I was tellin’ ye ? ” demanded the elder man, with an expression of intense pride on his face.

“ But you ’re a sergeant, are n’t you, Hugh?”

“ Humph ! What ’s a sergeant ’longside o’ a lieutenant ? ”

u He ’s a mighty good friend to have, I can tell you ! rejoined the younger man. “ I don’t know what would ever have become of me if it had n’t been for you, Hugh. I beg pardon, I mean Sergeant.”

“I’m good to get your supper and a few things like that, but I ’ve not got brains, same ’s you have, lad. I ’ve got just sense enough to know that, though, which I ’m thinking is more ’n some o’ the fool soldiers in this army know, who are all the time tryin’ to show off and let on how, if they was runnin’ things, we ’d soon have every Britisher shut up in jail.”

“ This is better, any way, than tramping through the woods or freezing under the walls of Quebec as we almost did two years ago, Hugh.” The young officer spoke as if he had not heard the words of his comrade. He was seated on the ground in front of a rude little hut which had been erected of logs and slabs. Many structures similar to that could be seen on the hillside, for here the American army under Washington was encamped late in the summer of 1777.

Two years before this time, young Henry Miner, then only a young fellow of eighteen, in company with the trapper, Hugh, had left his Pennsylvania home for the camp of the colonial soldiers at Cambridge. From that place the two men had marched with the little force under Benedict Arnold and after making their way through the wilderness of Maine had laid seige to Quebec. 1 In the disastrous attempt to capture that town, both men had been made prisoners, and, after having undergone a long and dreary confinement in the prisons of the ancient city, had at last been released, carried by sea to New York, and then given again their liberty. But Henry Miner had been for a long time ill because of his 1 See Under Colonial Colors • suffering on that ill-fated expedition, and therefore unable to reenter the army until the early spring of 1777. A position had been offered him among the famous riflemen of Morgan, but he had preferred to accept the offer of a lieutenancy in a Pennsylvania company, made up, as it was, of men from his own state, many of whom he personally knew. His stanch friend, although the number of his years was double that of Henry’s, had again accompanied him, and he too had been enrolled as a sergeant, although he steadily and sturdily protested that such a position was far above that to which he was entitled either by his ability or experience.

His devotion to his young friend and his unshaken confidence in his capability were his chief characteristics. There was nothing in his power which he was not eager to do for the young soldier, and the devotion with which he watched over him was not unlike a mother for her child. Young Henry Miner, or Lieutenant Miner, as he was addressed in the army, now a sturdy and vigorous young man of twenty, fully recovered from the severe attack of scurvy from which he had suffered long after his return from Quebec, quick, active, of medium height, of quiet and somewhat reserved manners, always earnest in whatever he did, was perhaps not entirely unworthy of the affection of his devoted friend, the trapper. At least his father and mother had so believed, when reluctantly they had given their consent for him to join the little army which was struggling to secure the liberties of the scattered colonists.

It was Hugh who had erected the hut in which he and Henry and two others of the younger officers had their quarters ; and he it was also who had insisted upon serving as cook. His previous experiences in the forest, when for many weeks at a time he would be away from the settlement and living the lonely life of his calling, had perhaps fitted him to a marked degree for the tasks which he had taken upon himself, from the time when he and Henry Miner had joined the army at Morristown. At all events it was certain that, in spite of the scarcity of provisions and the pressing difficulty of securing rations, few had been served so well as had the young lieutenant and his three messmates. In a general way Henry was aware of the conditions that prevailed in the camp; and how it was that Hugh had provided so well he did not understand. However, as the fact remained true, with the thoughtlessness of youth he was not disposed to inquire too closely into details, being well content that Hugh was with him, and therefore there was no special cause for anxiety.

“ Yes, this is better than you had it in the old Dauphin jail, I make no doubt/’ said Hugh, responding to the remark of the young lieutenant. “ But ye see, Lieutenant ” — Hugh always insisted upon addressing his friend by his military title, although he was equally insistent that he himself should be called simply Hugh — “ I was n’t there with ye. If they’d only let me join ye, I might ’a’ been able to help ye out a bit. However, that ’s neither here nor there. This supper ’s ’bout ready, if I ’m not mistaken.”

“ Shall we wait for the others ? ”

“ Why should we ? They ought to know ’nough to come back when it ’s supper time, an’ if they don’t, it ’s no one’s fault but their own. Better fall to, lad — I mean Lieutenant — an’ they can have what’s left.”

“ But I ’m not sure there ’ll be anything left, Hugh.”

66 So much the more reason, then, for them to he here on time. Perhaps they ’ll learn better. Everybody seems to be o’ my way o’

thinking” he added, as he glanced along the hillside, where the smoke could be seen rising from many a fire like their own.

Lieutenant Henry Miner was too hungry to require a second bidding, and as the trapper placed on the rude stand, which served as a table, the smoking food he had prepared, he fell to with a will. The sergeant watched him for a moment, a smile of pleasure and pride lighting up his somewhat grim countenance, and it was evident that even in the present task he felt that his protege would display qualities that certainly ought to commend him to the attention of all observers.

u Come on, Hugh,” called Henry ; “ are n’t you going to join me ? ”

“ Presently, presently,” replied the sergeant. “ I ’ll be with you in a minute, — I’ve ” —

Suddenly the trapper ceased and the expression upon his face instantly changed. The smile of approval departed, and in its place came a look intent, eager, keen. The young lieutenant, too, leaped to his feet and stood for a moment listening intently to sounds that came up from the valley below.

Dim and indistinct the report of a musket had been heard, and quickly this had been followed by another nearer the camp. Before the echoes of the report had died away the sound of another gun still nearer the hillside was heard, and this, too, was followed by others at various distances, but each in turn nearer the place where the little American army was lying.

“ The signal ! They he coming ! ” said the young lieutenant sharply, as he reached for his sword and then ran swiftly from the place.

“ Sounds like it. It does for certain ! ” muttered the sergeant, as he too grasped his gun and prepared to follow his friend. “ Perhaps he won’t feel that we ’re not doing anything now, though for my part I like that better ’n I do the fighting.”

Nevertheless the trapper did not delay, but by the time he had arrived at the green he found a surging crowd of unruly and almost unorganized men already there, for the signal was clearly understood by all, and it was known that for miles out from Morristown men had been stationed at regular intervals who were to give knowledge of the approach of the enemy by discharging their rifles.

As Hugh joined the rabble, among which the officers were moving and calling out their orders, striving to bring some form of order out of the prevailing confusion, he glanced up at the tavern. Behind each window, five of the best marksmen in the army had already taken their stand, prepared to defend the commander and his quarters from any approaching enemy. Almost contemptuously the trapper gazed at these men, whose skill in comparison with his own he was inclined to regard with slight respect.

It was not long before a semblance of order was restored to the surging crowd of men on the green, and there they waited for further news. A half hour elapsed, and still the men stood ready to act at the word of their leaders.

“ False alarm. Nobody coming,” at last was heard on every side, and soon the assembly dispersed and the men prepared to return to their quarters.

“ That ’s the third inside of a week,” said Lieutenant Miner as he joined Hugh on the way back to their hut. “ It ’s becoming monotonous.”

“ Better so than the other, lad, — I mean Lieutenant,” replied the trapper. Henry laughed, and for a time the two walked on in silence. As they came nearer their quarters suddenly both stopped and listened intently. From the depths of the woods came a scream, shrill, prolonged, weird. The sound was not repeated, though they waited long to hear, and then without a word being spoken, both men turned and plunged into the woods, running swiftly in the direction from which the startling sound had been heard.

Chapter II

For a time the young lieutenant and his companion ran swiftly through the woods, following as nearly as possible the direction from which the startling cry had been heard. The sun was low in the western sky, but the light amidst the trees was still clear and the two men had no difficulty in finding their way.

The silence which had followed the weird sound that had caused them to leave the beaten pathway and dart into the forest had now become almost oppressive. The branches of the tall trees were almost motionless, and the noise of some bird as it darted from bush to tree or from branch to branch, startled by their unexpected approach, was of itself almost a cause of alarm. The very stillness itself was oppressive, and at last the younger man stopped abruptly as he said, “We ’ ve come a long way, Hugh, and have n’t found anything.”

“ That ’s correct, Lieutenant ; but it may not mean there is n’t anything to be found.”

“ What shall we do ? ”

“ That ’s for you to say. You ’re a lieutenant, lad, — I mean, Lieutenant. ,,

“ We haven’t found anything.”

“ So I heard ye remark.”

“ Perhaps we did n’t really hear anything of importance. W e were all stirred up over the false alarm and ready to believe every sound we heard was a yell of the redcoats. We might as well go back.”

“ You ’re the one to say as to that.” But evidently the sergeant was by no means convinced that the search should be abandoned.

“ But we have n’t found anything wrong, Hugh,” persisted the young officer, as if he felt somehow obliged to resist the implied rebuke. “ I ’m as ready to go on as you are, if you think it ’s worth while. But I believe ’t was some bird we heard.”

“ 6 Bird ! ’ ” retorted Hugh. “ ’T was a bird, then, what had four legs.”

“Four legs? Didn’t you think it was a man ? ”

“No, I didn’t.”

“ What was it, then ? ”

“ That ’s what we came here to find out. But if you say so, we ’ll quit and go back to camp. You ’re the one to give orders.”

“I haven’t any orders to give. All I wanted was just to find out ” —

The young lieutenant paused abruptly as he perceived a sudden change in the manner of his friend. Hugh had bent lower and was peering intently at some object off to his right. As Henry turned and glanced keenly in the same direction, he instantly discovered what it was that had aroused the trapper’s interest.

Emerging from a clump of low cedar trees he beheld two men. As they came out into the more open spaces their actions betrayed their fear of discovery, for they glanced about them in all directions before they moved forward, and by every movement betrayed the fear of discovery which apparently possessed them.

Henry Miner had instantly stepped behind a huge tree at the trapper’s suggestion, who had himself set the example, and then both peered forth at the two men, who soon began to approach the place where the others were concealed. As they came nearer Henry’s interest became keener, for he had recognized one of the men as John Lippard, a careless, worthless young man of about twenty-five years of age, a member of one of the Pennsylvania companies, who had already spent a goodly part of the summer in the guardhouse for

IT his various acts of disobedience. His companion he could not recognize, but all Henry’s interest was quickly drawn to John himself, who was bearing some strange object upon his back. It was evident that both men were engaged in some act which they were desirous of concealing for the caution with which they advanced and the frequent glances they cast about them alike proclaimed their fear of being seen.

It was not until the two men had come within a few yards of the place where Hugh and Henry were concealed that the young lieutenant was able to determine what the strange burden was which John was carrying upon his back. A low exclamation of anger escaped the lieutenant’s lips as he at last perceived that John Lippard was bringing a half grown pig, which he had caught and was now carrying on the end of a short club which rested upon his shoulder.

The sight instantly aroused a feeling of anger in the young lieutenant’s heart. General Washington had issued the strictest of orders against foraging on the scattered country people by his own soldiers, and already several had felt the power of his anger when his commands had been disobeyed.

Kegardless of his companion and with no thought of personal consequences to himself, Henry instantly stepped forth from his hiding place and hailed the men.

“ Jack Lippard, what are you doing with that pig?” he demanded.

The unexpected summons for a moment seemed to deprive the foragers of their power of speech. John Lippard’s companion was the first to recover from his surprise, and before any one fully realized what he was about to do, he had turned into the woods and fled swiftly from the spot. If any doubt as to the nature of the action of the men had remained in the lieutenant’s heart, it would have been instantly banished by the flight of the man, which of itself was a conclusive proof of guilt.

John Lippard had swung his burden to the ground, and stood facing Henry and Hugh, for the latter had now advanced and was standing by the young officer’s side. At first he had apparently been overwhelmed by the sudden summons, but in a brief time he had recovered a measure of self-confidence and stood leering at the young officer, although he did not make any attempt to reply to his question.

“ What are you doing with that pig? ” demanded Henry again.

“ I ’m not doin’ anything. It ’s there/’ he replied impudently, pointing as he spoke at the lifeless body at his feet.

“ Where did you get it?” said Henry sternly.

“ Back here a piece.”

u You know what the general’s orders are ? ”

“ About what ? ”

a About foraging.”

“ He has n’t ordered any one not to dicker for a pig, has he?”

“ Did you buy that pig ? ”

u I don’t see what you have to say about it, any way.” John Lippard was becoming angry and impudent as well.

“ You don’t answer my question,” replied Henry, restraining his own anger by an effort.

“ I don’t intend to. It ’s nothing to you any way, and I don’t have to tell every little whipper-snapper in camp what I ’m doing, — not much, I don’t ! ”

Turning quickly to Hugh, Henry said quietly, “ We ’ll have to tie the fellow’s hands behind him. He does n’t seem to understand ” —

“Now look here, Lieutenant,” interrupted the man quickly. u I did n’t just mean what I said. You know how it is, for I suppose you sometimes say more ’ n ye meant for to say. Hold yer horses a bit, till ye hear what I ’ve got to say.”

“ What is it ? ” said Henry quietly. It may have been that his very quietness deceived the man, for assuming a bolder attitude, he advanced a step nearer, and leering as he spoke, said, —

“ Now, Lieutenant, half o’ that pig ’s promised to one o’ the captains ” —

“ Which captain ? ” interrupted Henry sharply.

“ That ’s tellin’, an’ tellin’ is something no one ever yet has accused me of. But it ’s promised just as I ’m tellin’ ye ; but I ’ll do the fair thing by you next time, if you’ll just shut yer eyes for three minutes.”

“ What’ll you do?”

“ I ’ll bring you half a pig to-morrow night. I know right where they grow, just as thick as blackberries, an’ I ’ll see that you have just as good a porker as this one is. At least, I ’ll see that you have a good half o’ one.”

u Do you go out every day ? ”

“ Oh, I ’m not tellin’ too much, just as I said a minute ago. But there ’s more ’n one o’ the captains an’ lieutenants that has had a square meal o’ late. He does n’t talk too much about it ; he ’s just glad to get a square meal once in a while, an’ not too many questions asked either. The rations in the camp don’t seem to be over an’ above satisfyin’.”

“ You know about General Washington’s order ? ”

“ I heard you speak o’ it.”

“ But you knew about it ? ”

“ Now look here, Lieutenant. Don’t ye go for to gettin’ too close to that. If I wanted to I could tell ye about some o’ the captains that don’t seem t’ have heard very much about it, or care very much if they have heard. I ’m not goin’ t’ tell, though, for as I said t’ ye I ’m not much given to that. Now, don’t ye go for to settin’ yerself up above all the others. Jest ye take a quarter o’ this pig, if ye don’t feel like waitin’ for the one I promised ye for to-morrow, an’ there won’t be a word said.”

For a moment the young lieutenant was silent. In spite of his own rugged honesty, there was a feeling that the man before him was speaking the truth.

Rumors and even reports had come to him, and not infrequently, that certain captains were in league with their men as to the securing and division of forage and spoils. He had heard that some of the surgeons were accustomed to grant furloughs for the sick or wounded only when they themselves were amply rewarded for the leave of absence given. Indeed, there were tales of corruption among officers and men current, which he had only in part believed or entirely disregarded.

Whatever Henry Miner’s own feelings may have been^ to-day we know that there was truth in all these reports. Not that all the soldiers were corrupt, or that there were not many truehearted and patriotic men to be found in every company, but these practices were far more prevalent than they are to-day. The great lesson of it all is that those who cry out against the degeneracy of our own times and laud the glories of a golden age which exists only in their imagination, are surely misinformed. And not the least of the lessons is that the greatness of the great Washington is nowhere more clearly seen than in his dealing with the problems found within the limits of his own camp, problems oftentimes more perplexing and trying than were those presented by the redcoated enemy whose movements he was closely watching.

66 Hugh/’ said Henry Miner abruptly, “ you go back to camp.”

“ And what will you be doing, if I may be so bold as to ask ? ” responded the trapper.

“ 1 ’ll take this man to the guardhouse.”

“ Better let me do it.”

Before he could reply, John Lippard turned quickly and darted into the woods, running at his utmost speed. But the young lieutenant and his friend instantly started in pursuit. Over the fallen logs, through the tangled bushes they ran in swift pursuit, the light in the forest being somewhat dimmer now and the night fast approaching. Both pursuers were swift runners and were enabled to keep the man they were following in plain sight, and it soon became evident that they were gaining upon him. Nearer and nearer they came, and at last, when they were about to throw themselves upon him, John Lippard threw up both hands and said, —

“ I give up, Lieutenant. You ’ve got me, and there ’s no use in trying to get away.”

“ Tie his hands behind him,” said Henry huskily.

“ What ’ll I tie them with ? ” inquired the trapper. “ I have n’t anything to use.”

“ Neither have I,” replied the lieutenant after a hasty search.

“ Ye won’t need anything/’ said John Lippard. “ I ’ll go along with you all right.”

As the man was unarmed and Henry had a huge pistol in his belt, the young officer felt that perhaps he was equal to the task of taking the man alone, and so, turning to his friend, he said, “ It ’ll be all right, Hugh. You go back to camp, and just as soon as I have turned this fellow over to the guard, I ’ll come back and join you.”