Peggy Owen and Liberty by Lucy Foster Madison
CHAPTER XVI
"OF WHAT WAS HE GUILTY?"
"Close his eyes; his work is done! What to him is friend or foeman, Rise of moon, or set of sun, Hand of man, or kiss of woman?
"Fold him in his country's stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly?"
--_George H. Boker._
There is no time when man so realizes his helplessness as in thepresence of great affliction. So now Peggy and Sally, wishing to givecomfort but at a loss how to do so, withdrew a short distance from thestricken ones, then they too sat down. The girls were in sore need ofconsolation themselves, for they were faint and weary after the tryingordeal through which they had passed. It was therefore no wonder thatthrough utter exhaustion they fell into slumber; for youth andweariness will assert themselves against the tyranny of nerve-rackingstress. A slumber that was of short duration.
A drop of rain splashed suddenly upon Peggy's hand causing her tostart up in alarm. She looked about her quickly. The sky was coveredby dark, lowering clouds which hung above them like a pall. The windhad veered to the east and a fiercer note had crept into its moaning.Instead of the soft lapping of the tide there was an angry menace inthe waves breaking turbulently upon the shore. A storm was coming, andthey were without shelter. The girl ran to Nurse Johnson and touchedher gently.
"'Tis going to rain," she cried, her clear young voice ringing outwith startling suddenness. "Does thee not think that we should try toget somewhere, Friend Nurse?"
Nurse Johnson glanced at her dully, then at sight of the overcast skyshe rose hurriedly.
"You are right, Peggy," she said. "'Tis time for action now. We mustgive way to grief no longer. Help me to rouse these women."
A patter of rain which fell as she finished speaking, brought arealizing sense of the situation to the women, and bravely they roseto meet it. For one short hour they had indulged their sorrow. In thegreatness of the calamity that had overwhelmed them there had seemedto come an end of everything. That Freedom might live they had beenbereft of all, but life with its responsibilities still remained, soresolutely they put aside their woe to take up again the burden ofliving. Though loth to leave the bodies of the brave dead there was noalternative, so presently a sad procession wended its way into theCourt House Road. As the forest was neared there issued from itsconfines a small body of armed men followed by several wagons. A cryof gladness burst from Sally at sight of the leader.
"'Tis Friend Ashley," she cried. "Does thee not see, Peggy? 'TisFriend Ashley!"
It was indeed Thomas Ashley. Full of amazed incredulity, for they hadbelieved him to be among the prisoners taken by the enemy, his wife,Nurse Johnson and the girls ran to greet him.
"And Charley, father?" cried Mrs. Ashley. "Where is Charley?"
"With Hannah's boy, in the hands of the British," he answered. "Now,now, mother! don't give way. Prisoners can be exchanged, so he is notlost to us. Others did not fare so well."
But underneath his assumed cheerfulness Peggy detected anxiety. He didnot linger talking, but bustled about helping the women into thewagons. The rain was falling heavily now, and there was need forhaste. A small party of men was detached from the main body to go oninto the village to bury the dead of both sides. The British had lefttheir fallen ones to be cared for by the Americans, and generously theduty was performed. At length all was in readiness, and the journeytoward shelter was resumed.
"And thou, friend? How did thee escape?" questioned Peggy as ThomasAshley rode up beside the wagon in which the family sat.
"I was one of the scouting party that nevvy sent down the river roadto intercept the enemy," he answered. "We were to take their firewhile falling back on the blockhouse, but we did not see any signs ofthem. Alarmed at this, we scoured the woods to find where they were,when suddenly we were set upon by a party of refugees. A livelyskirmish ensued, but the enemy was in superior force, and soon had thevictory. In the disorder and confusion following the surrender a fewof us made our escape. Meantime we heard the cannonading and knew thatthe blockhouse was attacked, but by the time we could make our wayback to the village, the fort had fallen, and the British were burningthe town.
"There was no sign of the women and children, but as the foe put offdown the river with the prisoners, a friend crawled out of the bushesto tell me that the women had fled to the forest. It seemed best underthe circumstances to go for aid for them, so we scattered to get it.Of course I am glad to be with you," he ended huskily, "but 'tis pitythat it could not be either Charley or nevvy."
"They are young, friend, and perhaps can stand imprisonment betterthan thee could," consoled Peggy. "And, as thee hath said, they can beexchanged, so after a short time all of us will be together again."
"Yes, father," spoke his wife. "Peggy is right. It hath all happenedfor the best, I dare say. They might have been killed, and you also.So we won't grieve, but try to bear the lads' captivity as best wemay. I do wish though that we could go home."
"We are going to, Mary; just as soon as I can find some one to take usthere. There will be many to care for who have no place to go, and'tis the right thing to make the charge as light as possible."
"And we shall be as safe there as anywhere," she said eagerly. "Ishall be glad to get home."
Peggy's glance met Sally's, and her own wistfulness was reflected inSally's eyes. They too would like to be home out of this turbulence ofwarfare, but knowing that these friends would take them were itpossible they gave no voice to their longings.
As the journey proceeded parties of men swung into the road from alldirections bound for the devastated town, bearing food, clothing, andmedical necessities for the stricken inhabitants. The news of theattack had flown over the county like wild-fire, and the peoplerallied to the aid of the victims of this latest outrage, vying witheach other in a generous contest as to the care of the villagers. Itwas found best to apportion a certain number to each party, and FarmerAshley's family being in better condition than many of the others wereamong the last to find an abode. Tarrying only long enough to rest andrefresh themselves, for they were anxious to return to the farmhouse,they were soon on their way thither.
"How glad we were to leave here," exclaimed Sally when at length theydrove into the familiar yard. "And now how good it seems to get back!"
"Yes," sighed Nurse Johnson. "Would that we had never left the place.Then the boys would not be in the hands of the British."
"You never can tell, Hannah," remarked the farmer. "Had we stayed herethere would have been another attempt to capture nevvy, and we mightnot have got off so well as we did before. It's about as broad as 'tislong. Then too, nevvy had to obey orders from the Council of Safety,so he would have had to go to Tom's River. Edwards, I hear, issentenced to be hanged; naturally the Tories would have been afterthe boy hot-foot."
After the total annihilation of the village of Tom's River, the damageto the farmhouse seemed inconsiderable, and it was with a sense ofrest that the girls entered the pleasant and homey kitchen. And nowfor a time there was peace from molestation of any sort, and the shortperiod of repose brought healing to their bruised spirits.
In some manner Thomas Ashley contrived to learn that Fairfax had beencarried to New York, and subsequently to Sandy Hook, where he wasconfined in the hold of a guard-ship. Simultaneously with thisinformation came the news that Edwards, the refugee leader whom theyoung captain had captured, had been shot while attempting to escape,and the county exulted that at last it was rid of such a desperado.
So the soft days of April passed until ten had elapsed since thereturn from Tom's River. It seemed to Peggy that never before hadthere been so beautiful a spring, and she spent much time among thesweet scented things of the garden. There came a morning when all theearth was kissed with scent, and all the air caressed by song. Thetwo maidens were out under the blossoming trees, and their talkturned, as it frequently did, upon the absent Fairfax.
"'Ti
"I believe 'tis done in order of capture, Sally. Those who are takenfirst are first to be liberated. And rank also hath much to do withit. A captain would not be exchanged until a captain of equal rankcould be given for him. As to militia officers I know not how 'tismanaged. But whatever can be done, Friend Ashley will do. He hathinfluence with the principal men of the county, and will no doubt useit for Fairfax's release. He is proud of his nephew. Methinks hegrieves over the lad's imprisonment as much as his mother does."
"I think he does, Peggy. Then too, he hath the welfare of MonmouthCounty so much at heart, and Fairfax was especially vigilant insuppressing the incendiary acts of the Tories and refugees, that heis missed. I hope he is well treated. 'Tis dreadful to be confined insuch weather!"
"I like not to think of it," remarked Peggy with a sigh. "I wish wehad not teased him so; yet what sport it was to see him mantle."
"There were times when I thought he liked it as well as we did, Peggy.And he was beginning to hold his own with us. There was wit in theconceit of naming his horse after both of us."
"I wonder what became of that horse," exclaimed Peggy. "Would thatFriend Ashley had it! He hath need of it for his trips into Freehold."
"The enemy must have taken it. They destroyed everything that they didnot take, and horses are valuable plunder. I saw naught of any animalafter the town was burned."
Both maidens became silent at the mention of that dreadful time.Neither willingly spoke of it, and any reference to the affair wascasual. Peggy stooped and picked a sprig of tender grass, and began tobite it meditatively.
"Friend Ashley comes back early," she remarked glancing over the fenceinto the road. "Methought he was not to return until nightfall."
"Why, that was the intention," answered Sally. "I heard him tell hiswife that 'twould be late ere he came back. I wonder why he did notstay?" She went to the fence and leaned upon it, gazing with somecuriosity at Thomas Ashley's approaching form. "Peggy," she calledquickly, "something is wrong. Does thee not see?"
"He is ill," cried Peggy as the farmer stopped suddenly in his onwardway and leaned against a tree. "Let us go to him, Sally."
There was no gate near where they were standing so the girls climbedto the top of the fence, then jumping lightly down on the other side,they ran hastily to Farmer Ashley.
"Is thee ill, friend?" queried Peggy. "Thee seems sick."
"Sick? Ay! sick at heart, child." Thomas Ashley turned to them such awoebegone countenance that the maidens uttered cries of dismay. Hisface was lined and drawn, and into his kindly eyes had come anexpression of care. He seemed no longer a robust, middle-aged man, butsomehow old and feeble.
"Lean on me," cried Peggy slipping her strong young arm about him."Sally and I will help thee into the house."
"Not yet," he said. "Not yet. Let me collect myself before I faceHannah."
"There is bad news of Fairfax," cried Sally. "What is it, friend?"
"The worst," he answered brokenly. "The lad is no more."
"What does thee mean, friend?" gasped Peggy. "Is he---- No; thee can'tmean that he is--dead?" Her voice sank to a whisper as she uttered theword.
Thomas Ashley let his face fall into his hands with a groan.
"Peggy! Sally! Where are you?" Clearly, Nurse Johnson's voice came tothem. A moment later she herself came down the road. "Are you inhiding that you do not answer?" she asked. As there was no responsefrom any of them she glanced from one to the other anxiously."Something hath happened," she said. "What is it, Tom?"
But the farmer cowered before her.
"How shall I tell you, Hannah?" he cried piteously. "How shall I tellyou?"
"It is about my son," she said quickly. "Tell me instantly." As ThomasAshley continued unable to speak she added with passion: "Don't keepme waiting. Am I not his mother? Who hath a better right to know ifaught hath befallen him?"
"No one," he answered her. "No one, Hannah. I would rather die thantell you, yet I must. Hannah! Hannah!" Sobs burst from him that rackedhis body. "They hanged him this morning."
A cry of horror broke from Sally and Peggy, but Nurse Johnson stood asthough turned to stone.
"Hanged?" she said. "My boy! What are you saying, Tom Ashley?"
"The truth," he cried with bitter grief. "The truth, God help us,Hannah. The loyalists took him from prison, and brought him toGravelly Point, where they hanged him this morning. 'Twas because ofEdwards, they said. An express brought the news into Freehold. Thatboy, that noble, gallant boy hath been hanged like a criminal!"
"But of what was he guilty? What crime did he commit?" Her calm wasterrible to see, and Peggy involuntarily took a step toward her, butSally stayed her quickly.
"Of what was he guilty, Hannah? Why, of repelling the invader. Oftrying to stay the ravages of the enemy. He committed the crime ofwhich Washington, and Jefferson, and Franklin, and John Adams areguilty: the crime of patriotism."
"But he was a prisoner? A prisoner taken in open warfare. How couldsuch an one be hanged?"
"By all the code of civilized warfare he could not," broke from thefarmer passionately. "They have done it in defiance of the code. Butthere shall be retaliation, Hannah. Eye for eye," he cried lifting hisclenched hands and shaking them fiercely above his head. "Tooth fortooth, life for life. There shall be retaliation."
A sudden, wild cry burst from her:
"Will that give me back my son? Oh, my boy! My boy!" And she brokeinto a passion of weeping.
The farmer motioned the girls away when they would have gone to her.
"Let her weep," he said, controlling his own emotion with difficulty."'Tis Nature's way toward helping her to bear it. Come! leave her fora time."
So the maidens crept to their own little room to give vent to thesorrow that filled them. The shy fellow had endeared himself to them,and his untimely end affected them deeply. The days that followed weresorrowful ones. Nurse Johnson was completely prostrated, and Mrs.Ashley added to her woe a great anxiety for her own son. It fell tothe lot of Peggy and Sally to look after the household affairs, andthey were thankful for the occupation.
The last sad rites were performed at Freehold. Wrapped in hiscountry's flag, Fairfax Johnson was buried with all the honors of war.But with the firing of the last volley the indignation of MonmouthCounty blazed forth. A single deed of violence and cruelty affects thenerves more than when these are exercised upon a more extended scale,and this act was peculiarly atrocious. The cry of Thomas Ashleysounded upon every lip: Retaliation! The cry grew as all the detailsof the inhuman murder became known.
The young man had been charged with being privy to the killing ofEdwards, even though he pointed out to his captors that the refugee'sdeath had occurred after his capture. The opportunity to ridthemselves of so active an adversary, however, was not one to beneglected; so, without listening to a defense, or even going throughthe form of a trial, he was hurried to Gravelly Point by a band ofsixteen loyalists under Captain Lippencott, a former Jerseyman and anofficer in a refugee regiment, The King's Rangers, and there hanged.It was said that he met death with great firmness and composure. Uponhis breast was affixed the label:
"Up goes Johnson for Frank Edwards."
The country, a little later England and the entire civilized world,stood aghast at the atrocity of the incident. A prisoner taken in openwarfare hanged! Such a thing was unheard of. Such execution should bedealt a spy, an informer, a deserter. But a prisoner of war---- Evenbarbarians deal not so with an honorable foe. It was therefore nowonder that the cry of Monmouth County reached into every part of NewJersey, growing deeper and fiercer. Retaliation! It passed on, andspread into every state. Everywhere the cry was taken up by the pressand the people: Retaliation! What had happened to a prisoner from NewJersey might very well happen to a prisoner from any state. The mattermust be stopped before it proceeded any further. The grievance of onewas the grie
And the cry was heard in the halls of Congress. And it was heard onthe banks of the Hudson by Washington. Heard and answered. A sterndemand went to Sir Henry Clinton for Lippencott, the leader underwhose command the dastardly deed had been committed. For Lippencott,else the act should be retaliated upon by the death of one of theBritish prisoners of war.