Chapter XIV: The Camp at Middlebrook

"We are those whose trained battalions,
Trained to bleed, not to fly,
Make our agonies a triumph--
Conquer, while we die."

--"A Battle Song," Edwin Arnold.

"Well, if this be a foot-warmer I wonder what a foot-freezer would be called," exclaimed Peggy in tones of disgust, slipping from her seat in the coach to feel the covered iron at her mother's feet. "I don't believe that the innkeeper at the last tavern where we baited our horses filled it with live coals, as I told him to. He was none too civil."

"Belike 'twas because we paid our reckoning in Continental money," remarked Mrs. Owen. "Never mind the iron, Peggy. I shall do very well without it; and if thou art not careful thou wilt drop that box which thee has been so choice of through the journey."

Peggy laughed as she resumed her seat by her mother's side.

"Is thee curious anent that box, mother?" she questioned drawing a small oblong box of ebony wood closer to her.

"I should be," observed the lady with a smile, "had I not heard Friend Deering tell thee that 'twas a secret betwixt thee and him."

"I should think that being a secret would make thee wonder all the more concerning it," remarked the girl. "It would me, mother."

"Is thee trying to awake my inquisitiveness, daughter?"

"I am to tell thee about it should thee ask," said Peggy suggestively. "But in all these four days thou hast not once evinced the slightest desire to know aught anent the matter. How can thee be so indifferent, mother? I am eager to tell thee."

"So I judged," replied Mrs. Owen laughing outright. "Know then, Peggy, that I am as desirous of hearing as thou art of telling. 'Tis something for General Washington; is 't not?"

"Why, mother, thee knows already," cried Peggy.

"No, no, child; I am only guessing. 'Twould be like Friend Deering to send something to the general. That is all I know of the matter."

"Well, then, 'tis five hundred English guineas," explained the girl, enjoying the look of amazement on her mother's face.

"Peggy, no!" exclaimed the lady. "I thought belike 'twas money, but I knew not that it was so much. How pleased the general will be. Hard money is getting scarcer and scarcer, and the people murmur against the currency of Congress."

"And shall I tell thee all that I am to say to Friend Washington?" asked Peggy with an important air. "Mother, thee did not guess that while thee was gathering supplies I too had business of like nature?"

"No, I did not know," replied Mrs. Owen. "Unravel the matter, I beg, Peggy. 'Twill serve well to pass the time, and I am curious also concerning the affair."

It was three weeks after the receipt of David Owen's letter, and December was upon them ere mother and daughter had completed their arrangements for the journey. Knowing the great need of supplies at the encampment, Mrs. Owen determined not to go empty handed, and so made a personal canvas among the citizens, who responded to her appeal for the soldiers with their usual liberality. In consequence, when at length everything was in readiness, it was quite a little caravan that left the city headed for Middlebrook, New Jersey. First came the coach with Peggy and her mother inside; then followed two farm wagons loaded with stores of various kinds; behind these came Tom with Star, for Peggy was hoping for rides with her father; the whole traveling under the escort of four of the Pennsylvania Light Horse who had been in Philadelphia on furloughs.

The roads were bad, the traveling rough and slow, the weather cold and damp, but to Peggy, who had never before been away from Philadelphia and its vicinity, the journey was full of interest and excitement. It was now the afternoon of the fourth day since they had started, and both the maiden and the lady were conscious of a growing feeling of excitement as they neared the journey's end, so the matter of the box, about which the matron had in truth been wondering, was a welcome diversion.

"At first," said Peggy pulling the fur robe closer about her and nestling confidentially up to her mother, "he said 'twas so small an amount that he wished me to say naught concerning the donor. But I persuaded him to let me tell who gave it, saying to him that 'twas not the amount that counted so much as the spirit in which 'twas given."

Mrs. Owen nodded approval, and the girl continued:

"And so I am to say that since Jacob Deering is esteemed too old to take up arms for his country 'tis the only thing he can do to show his sympathy with the cause."

"Would that there were more like him," ejaculated the lady. "The cause would soon languish were it not for just such support. Is thee tired, Peggy?"

"Not very, mother. Still, I shall be glad when we reach the camp."

At length, just as the sun was sinking behind the Watchung Mountains, the cumbersome coach swung round a bend in the road, and the encampment came into view. They had left Philadelphia by the old York road, crossing the Delaware at Coryell's Ferry, and swinging across Hunterdon County into Somerset, where the army was stationed, so that their first sight of the Continental cantonment glimpsed nearly all of the seven brigades stationed there.

All along the Raritan River, and on the heights of Middlebrook the fields were dotted with tents and parks of artillery. Suddenly, as they drew nearer, the highways between the different posts seemed alive with soldiers going and coming. There was the crunch on the frozen ground of many feet. The country quiet was broken by the rattle of arms, the snort of horses, and the stir and bustle of camp. There was something inspiriting in the spectacle. Fatigue was forgotten, and Peggy straightened up with a little cry of delight.

"Look at the tents, mother," she cried. "Didst ever see so many before?"

"We must be at Middlebrook," exclaimed Mrs. Owen, almost as excited as Peggy. "Just see how the prospect of rest hath reanimated the driver and his horses."

The maiden laughed as the driver sat up, cracked his whip and urged his horses to greater dispatch. The tired animals responded nobly, but their spurt of speed was checked suddenly by a peremptory command from the patrol. The examination over, they were allowed to proceed, but were again halted when they had gone but a short distance.

"What can it be now?" wondered Peggy peering out of the coach. Catching sight of the tall figure that came alongside, she called gaily:

"The countersign, father! The countersign!"

"'Tis welcome! Thrice welcome!" answered David Owen flinging wide the door of the vehicle and taking her into a tender embrace. "Art tired, Peggy?"

"No, father; but I fear that mother is. She hath been cold too."

"But I am so no longer," spoke Mrs. Owen cheerily. "Thee is well, David?"

"Never better, my wife. I have forgot that I was ever ill. But come! let us proceed to our quarters."

"And who are in our mess?" asked Peggy as, after a word to the driver, her father stepped into the coach.

"Thou hast become militaryish already, I see," he said smiling. "I have found accommodations for us at a farmhouse very near Bound Brook. 'Tis just beyond General Greene's brigade, and close enough to the Pennsylvania line not to interfere with active duty. There will be but five in our mess, as thee calls it, Peggy--Friend Decker and wife, thy mother, thyself and I. 'Tis Friend Decker's house. Dutch they are, but patriots staunch and true. See, my wife! We are coming to General Washington's headquarters. 'Tis a much better dwelling than he occupied last year at Valley Forge. To thy right, Peggy. 'Tis the farmhouse in the midst of the orchard."

"Friend Deering hath sent some gold to the general by Peggy," observed Mrs. Owen bending forward that she might the better see the building. "And there are supplies behind in the wagons for the soldiers. Two loads there are."

"Now that is good news indeed," exclaimed Mr. Owen. "The chief should know of it immediately. We will stop there now. 'Twill ensure the general a better night's rest to receive such tidings. He hath been greatly worried lately over the apathy of the people toward the war."

"Then if 'twill be of any comfort to him to learn of this small aid let us go to him at once, David," said his wife.

The last bit of sunlight disappeared behind the hills as they turned from the road into the meadow in the centre of which stood the large two-story wooden dwelling where General Washington had established his quarters for the winter. But lately finished, it was considered a model of elegance for that section of the country, and was in truth most roomy and comfortable.

As the light faded, from the meadows and the hills sounded the drums, fifes and bugles in the retreat, or sunset drum beat. Scarcely had the music died away than all along the top of the mountain range the watch-fires of the sentinels blazed out suddenly.

"Oh!" gasped Peggy, her eyes glowing, "if I live long 'mid such surroundings methinks I shall feel equal to fighting the whole British army."

"'Tis so with all new recruits, Peggy," laughed her father. "Thee will not be so affected when the novelty wears off. And here is the dwelling. 'Twill not take us long to present our news to the general, and then for quarters."

A few rods to the east of the mansion were about fifty tents erected for the use of the life-guard. Fires flamed before every tent, around which men were gathered, laughing, talking or singing. Peggy looked about with much curiosity, but her father hastened at once to the door of the dwelling, where stood an orderly.

"Will thee tell His Excellency that David Owen is without, and wishes to see him?" he asked. "'Tis important."

The orderly was absent but a moment. "His Excellency will see you, Mr. Owen," he said. "You are to go right in."

Peggy's heart began to flutter painfully as she found herself once more in the presence of General Washington, and her mind went back involuntarily to the last time when she had taken that long ride to Valley Forge to beg for her father's exchange. So perturbed was she that she did not notice that the room was large, low ceiled, and cozily warmed by a huge fire of logs which glowed in the great fireplace. Instead of being interested in the furnishings of the apartment, as she would have been at another time, she clung close to her father overcome by the remembrance of how very near they had been to losing him, and could not raise her eyes when he said:

"I beg to present my wife and daughter, Your Excellency. They tell me that they have brought some money and supplies, and it seemed best to let thee know of it at once."

"You have acted with discretion, Mr. Owen," said General Washington rising from the table before which he had been sitting. "Madam Owen, I have long known of you through your good works, but have hitherto not had the pleasure of meeting with you personally. You would be welcome at any time, but doubly so since you bring us aid."

"Thy thanks are not due me, but to the citizens of Philadelphia, sir," said Mrs. Owen with her finest curtsey. "There are two wagon loads of stores of various kinds, among which are several casks of cider vinegar. We heard that thee was in need of that article."

"We are indeed," replied General Washington. "The country hereabouts hath been scoured for it until the farmers tell us that there is no more. 'Tis sorely needed for our fever-stricken men. 'Tis very timely, Mistress Owen."

"And for thyself, sir," continued the lady, "a few of us learned of thy fondness for eggs, and there are several dozens of those. But, sir, on pain of displeasure from those who sent them, thou art not to divide them with any. They are for thine own table."

"I will incur no displeasure on that account, I assure you," said the general laughing. "I fear that you have been in communication with the housekeeper, who hath been much concerned because of the scarcity of eggs. I thank you, Mrs. Owen, for having so favored me, and also for the other stores. They are much needed. Mr. Owen, will you see to 't that the quartermaster heeds your wife's injunction about those eggs?"

David Owen bowed, and his wife went on:

"And Peggy hath also something for thee in that box, Your Excellency. She hath made so much of a mystery of it that I knew not the nature of its contents until this afternoon."

General Washington had not been unaware of Peggy's agitation. Perhaps he too was thinking of the time when she had been so severely tried, for his voice was very gentle as he took the girl's hand and said:

"Miss Peggy and I are old friends. She promised me once to tell me what became of that wonderful dog of hers. I shall claim the fulfilment of that promise, my child, since we shall see much of each other this winter."

The ready smile came to Peggy's lips, chasing away the tears that had threatened to flow.

"Does thee remember Pilot?" she cried. "Oh, Friend Washington, I did not think a man so concerned with affairs of state would remember a dog."

"He wished me well, and I always remember my friends and well wishers," he said, pleased that she had recovered her composure.

"And 'tis one of them who hath sent thee this box of five hundred English guineas," she said quickly, pointing to the box. "'Tis from Mr. Jacob Deering, sir. He said to tell thee that since he was esteemed too old to take up arms 'twas the only way left him to serve the cause. He regretted the smallness of the amount, but he said that English money was hard to come by."

"It is indeed hard to come by," replied the general, receiving the box with gratification. "This is most welcome, Miss Peggy, because just at this time our own money is depreciating rapidly owing to the fact that the British are counterfeiting it by the wagon load, and distributing it among the people. I trust that I may soon have an opportunity to thank Mr. Deering in person. I shall be in Philadelphia next week, and shall do myself the honor of calling upon him. In the meantime, Miss Peggy, receive my thanks for this timely relief. Will you not----"

At this moment the door opened to admit an orderly. General Washington turned to him. "What is it, sir?" he said. "Did you not know that I was occupied?"

"Pardon me, sir," replied the orderly, saluting. "One of the videttes hath brought in a young girl who declares she hath a permit to pass the lines. He knows not what to do with her. She is English, sir, and comes from New York."

"Bring her in," commanded the chief. "Nay," as the Owens made a movement to depart, "stay a little, I beg of you. This matter will take but a moment."

As he finished speaking the door opened once more to admit the form of a young girl. She could not have been more than Peggy's age, but she carried herself with so much dignity that she appeared older. Her eyes were of darkest gray, shaded by intense black lashes, and starry in their radiance. At present they held a look of scorn, and her well set head was tilted in disdain. A wealth of chestnut hair but slightly powdered clustered about her face in ringlets, and her complexion was of such exquisite fairness as to be dazzling. She was clad in a velvet riding frock of green, her beaver hat, from which depended a long plume, matching the gown in color. Her whole manner and appearance were stamped by a general air of distinction.

She advanced at once into the room, apparently unconscious of the effect that her beauty was producing.

"By what right, sir," she cried in a clear musical voice, "do your men stop me in my journey? I have a pass."

"Let me see it, madam," said General Washington quietly. He glanced at the paper she gave him, and remarked, "This is from General Maxwell at Elizabethtown. He refers the matter to me for consideration. May I ask why so young a female wishes to pass through our lines?"

"I wish to join relatives in Philadelphia," she answered. "I travel alone because I was told that Americans did not make war on women and girls. It seems that I was mistaken."

"You are an English girl," said the general, ignoring her last remark. "Why do you not stay with your people in New York?"

"Because, sir, I was left in England with my brother while my father came over with General Gage to fight the rebels. My brother ran away, so I came to join father. He had gone to the Southern colonies, and when he learned that I was here, he wrote me to go to my relatives. I left New York under a flag of truce, and came to Elizabethtown. There I went at once to the general in charge. Sir, I have complied with every requirement necessary to pass the lines, and I ask that I be permitted to resume my journey."

"And what is the name of these relatives?" asked Washington imperturbably.

"Owen, sir. David Owen is my father's cousin."

"Why!" exclaimed Peggy, who had been an amazed listener to the conversation. "Thee must be my Cousin Harriet!"