Peggy Owen and Liberty by Lucy Foster Madison
CHAPTER XV
THE ATTACK ON THE BLOCKHOUSE
"Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in beauty's circle, proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshaling in arms,--the day, Battle's magnificently-stern array!"
--_Byron._
The cry echoed and reechoed through the streets of Tom's River:
"Every man to the blockhouse! The British and refugees areapproaching!"
It seemed but an instant until the village was aroused. Candlesflashed in the windows, and lanthorns gleamed in the streets as thepeople prepared for the foe. Every man and boy capable of bearing amusket hurried to the fort, while white-faced women snatched theirlittle ones from their cots, and huddled together for mutual comfortand consolation.
Peggy and Sally had awakened at the first alarm. Often the former hadbeen thankful for the Quaker teaching which enabled her to retain herself-control. She felt doubly grateful for it now in the midst of aconfusion that was terrifying. Men shouted hoarsely as they ranthrough the town: sometimes repeating the orders of their captain,sometimes calling reassuringly to the women. The wailing and crying ofthe children, added to the screaming of the mothers, made a commotionthat was frightful. The girls were pale, but they managed to retaincomposure.
"Is thee afraid, Peggy?" whispered Sally.
"Yes," admitted Peggy squeezing her friend's hand. "I am, Sally, but'twill not help matters to give way to it."
"Ye are brave girls," commented Mrs. Ashley joining them. "Let us godown-stairs. 'Tis planned to have all of the women and children comehere, as this is the largest house, and 'twill give comfort to betogether. If some of us remain calm it will help to quiet the others.You can aid greatly in this."
So the Quakeresses went down among the assembled women, and, byassisting to quiet the children, helped Mrs. Ashley, Nurse Johnson,and others to bring a sort of order out of the tumult. An hour wentby; then another, yet there was no sign of the enemy, and the tensionrelaxed among the waiting, frightened women. A few whispered that itwas a false alarm, and smiled hopefully. Some slept; others satquietly by their slumbering children, or stood about the rooms inlistening attitudes. All wore the tense expression of those who face afearful danger. Slowly the time passed, until another hour had goneby. All at once the sound of hurrying feet was heard without, andPeggy and Sally ran out on the verandah to find the meaning of it. Itproved to be a scouting party sent down the river road by CaptainJohnson to intercept the foe should it approach from that direction.
"I feel better out here in the air; doesn't thee, Sally?" asked Peggyafter the men had passed.
"Yes; let's stay for a while. There is naught more that can be doneinside."
For answer Peggy slipped her arm about Sally's waist, and the two satdown on the steps of the porch. The house was near the bay, and therestless lapping of the waves smote their ears with rhythmicdismalness. A brisk southwest wind was singing through the pines, butafter the tumult engendered by the alarm, the stillness seemedabnormal. The streets were deserted now, and the only sign of lifecame from the dim lanthorns of the blockhouse. Nothing was stirringsave the waves, the wind, and the leaves of the forest. Slowly thegray dawn crept into the sky, and still the maidens sat on the steps,silently waiting and watching.
Then, so suddenly that it drew an involuntary scream from both ofthem, a rifle went bang among the trees in the direction of the fort.Another report rang out, followed almost instantly by twenty or morein a volley. In the imperfect light of the dawn a number of dark formscould be seen running toward the blockhouse.
"'Tis from the Court House Road," exclaimed Sally rising quickly. "Andoh, Peggy! Fairfax thought they would come the river way."
"Yes," said Peggy with despair in her voice. There seemed to be agreat many of the attacking party, and she recalled Fairfax'smisgivings concerning the fewness of the garrison. "And he hath sentpart of his force to meet them there. I fear! I fear!"
Had Peggy been aware of the full force of the attacking party shewould have known that there were grounds for grave apprehension. Thisis what had happened: Forty loyalists, under command of Captain EvanThomas, had embarked from New York on whaleboats manned by LieutenantBlanchard, of the British navy, and eighty armed seamen. Landing atCoates' Point, a place near the mouth of Tom's River, they were therejoined by a detachment of Monmouth County refugees under RichardDavenport. Securing a guide, the party had made a wide detour throughthe woods, coming upon the blockhouse from the Court House Roadinstead of the river road, which was the logical one to use. The smallforce of the garrison was outnumbered several times over by theirassailants, but of this fact both sides were ignorant for the timebeing. All these particulars Peggy, of course, did not know. She onlyknew that the fort was being stormed; that the numbers of the enemyseemed multitudinous, and that the noise was deafening.
By this time the women were up; either out on the verandah, or at thewindows of the upper floors of the dwelling straining their eyeseagerly toward the blockhouse. Firelocks and muskets were banging, andthe surrounding woods swam in smoke. Volley after volley swept thepines, then came the thundering report of the cannon. The smoke camedriving toward the town into their faces, blinding and choking them.Again and again the cannon flashed and thundered. Again and again camethe dense black pall of smoke. But so long as the fort stood thevillage was safe, and breathlessly the anxious women waited the issue,striving, when the smoke lifted, to catch glimpses of what wasoccurring.
A CRY OF ANGUISH WENT UP.]
For a considerable time the report of musketry and the cannonadingwas incessant. The assault on the part of the enemy was furious, andwas met by the defenders with great firmness and gallantry. Suddenlythe sound of the cannon ceased. The women gazed at each other inalarm. What did it mean? Had the garrison repulsed the foe, or was theammunition exhausted? For a little longer the volleys from the musketscontinued unabated, then these became fewer, until presently only afew scattering reports sounded. Soon the firing stopped altogether.The countenances of the women blanched. What was taking place behindthose clouds of smoke?
As if in answer to the question, the smoke cleared. Through thewhirling rifts they caught glimpses of the sky, the tree tops, andfinally of the blockhouse itself. An awful cry arose from the women.The walls were partly down, and a terrific hand-to-hand struggle wastaking place between friend and foe. There followed a few moments inwhich attackers and attacked were indistinguishable. Then, high abovethe clash of pike and bayonet, sounded the terrible command:
"No quarter! No quarter! No quarter!"
A dreadful moment succeeded when the air resounded with the screams ofwounded and dying men, the agony of the conquered. The blockhouse hadfallen.
A cry of anguish went up from the women. A cry so terrible, soheart-breaking in its bereavement that Peggy and Sally covered theirears to shut out the awfulness of its desolation. This was war in itsmost fearful aspect. War, civil war, that knows neither mercy norcompassion. War, the Juggernaut that rides to victory on a highway ofwomen's hearts, watered by women's tears. O Liberty! thou art as thebreath of life to man. Without thee he were a base, ignoble thing! Wecannot set thy metes and bounds, for thou art thine own eternal law.Thou art the light by which man claims kinship with his Maker. Andyet, at what price art thou bought? At what price! At what price!
The tragedy darkened.
A tiny tongue of flame darted up from one corner of the doomed fort.At a little distance another showed luridly. Presently the wholestructure was a mass of flames. Trussed like fowls, the prisoners weretaken to the oyster boats on the river, and thrown in unceremoniously.The barges and scows not wanted by the conquerors were scuttled andsunk, or fired and burned to the water. Then, with shouts of triumph,the yelling horde of British and refugees came toward the ill-fatedvillage.
As though paralyzed with fear the terrified women waited theirapproach. Of what use to flee? All that made life dear was aboutthem. That gone, what w
Peggy found herself running with the others. In all her short life shehad never been so possessed by blind, unreasoning terror as she was atthat moment. When at length tree and sky, and objects resumed theirnormal relation, she found that she and Sally were clinging to eachother, and sobbing convulsively. And Sally was saying something. Peggycould not comprehend at first, but presently the words came to herclearly:
"We must go back, Peggy. We must go back."
"Why?" whispered Peggy, her voice filled with the horror of the scenesshe had witnessed.
"Because, because," sobbed Sally, "there must be wounded. Oh, thepoor, poor fellows!"
Peggy made a violent effort to collect herself.
"Yes," she said. "Thee is right, Sally. We must go back."
Soon they regained a degree of composure, and then they turned back.When again they came into the village, or rather the place where thevillage had been, the enemy had gone, but the destruction wascomplete. Not a dwelling stood, the salt works, the grist-mills, thelumber mills, even the little boats of the fishermen had beendestroyed. Of that busy, lively, little town not a vestige remained.Shudderingly but with the resolution to be of service, if serviceshould be necessary, the two girls made their way to the spot wherethe blockhouse had stood. As they drew near they saw the form of awoman moving among the bodies of the dead. She limped slightly, andthey knew it was Nurse Johnson.
"Friend Nurse! Oh, Friend Nurse!" cried the girls running to her.
"He is not here," said Nurse Johnson apathetically. "They carriedaway some prisoners; he must be among them."
"Then he can be exchanged," cried Peggy, a gleam of joy irradiatingher countenance. "Oh, I'm glad, glad!"
Nurse Johnson smiled wanly.
"I shall know no peace until I find where he is," she said. "I am gladthat you are safe. Why came ye back from the woods? The British havejust gone."
"The wounded," cried the maidens together. "We must care for them."
"Only the dead lie here," she told them with terrible composure. "Didye not hear the order to spare none? There was no quarter given afterthe surrender. 'Tis that which makes me fearful for my son."
With that she sat down upon the bank of the river, and bowed her headupon her hands. One by one the women stole back from the forest. Eachwent first to those still forms lying so quietly, searching forfather, husband, son or brother among them; then silently sat downamong the ashes, and bowed her head. The little children stifled thesobs that rose in their throats, awed by this voiceless grief, andcrept softly to the sides of their mothers, hiding their facesagainst them. More than a hundred women and children were stripped ofeverything, and rendered homeless, widowed and orphaned by the attack.
As though unable to bear the sight of such sorrow, the sun hid hisface behind a cloud, and the forest lay in shadow. The waters of thebay sobbed in their ebb and flow upon the sands, and the wind thatsighed through the pines echoed the wail of the grief-stricken women:
"Desolate! Desolate! Desolate!"