Читать книгу: «The Yankee Tea-party», страница 8

THE ATTACK ON GENERAL WAYNE

"One of Parker's Light Infantry told me all about it," said Colson. "He says that General Wayne, with eight hundred men—infantry, artillery and dragoons—were encamped at Gibbons' Plantation, about five miles from Savannah, where the British were posted. It was the early part of February. General Wayne had no idea that an enemy was nearer than Savannah. But the brave Creeks had been taken into the pay of the British, and their chief, Gurestessego, formed a plan to surprise the Continentals. Never was an attack better planned; our men were sleeping with a feeling of security, when, about midnight, the Creeks fell upon the camp. The sentinels were captured and the Indians entered the camp, and secured the cannon; but while they were trying to make the cannon serviceable, instead of following up their success, Wayne and his men recovered from their surprise and were soon in order for battle. Parker's Infantry charged with the bayonet and after a short struggle recovered the cannon. Gunn, with his dragoons, followed up the charge, and the Creeks were forced to give way. General Wayne encountered the chief Gurestessego in hand-to-hand combat—the General with sword and pistols, and the chief with musket, tomahawk and knife. The struggle was fierce but short. The chief was killed, and Wayne escaped without any serious injury. Seventeen of the Creeks fell and the rest escaped in the darkness, leaving their packhorses and a considerable quantity of peltry in the hands of the victors. Wayne conjectured at once that the Indians would not have dared to make an attack, without being assured of the approach of the British or Tories to support them, and a rumour spread that Colonel Browne was marching towards the camp for that purpose. In the fight, Wayne had captured twelve young warriors, whom he doomed to death to prevent them joining the enemy. This was a rash act. The rumour of Browne's approach was false; but the young warriors had been sacrificed before this was known. General Wayne felt many a pang for this rash command, as he was a man who never would shed blood without it was necessary in the performance of his duty."

"Why didn't he send the Indians to Greene's camp, or some other American post?" enquired Hand.

"There was no time or men to spare if the rumour had been true," said Colson. "Most commanders would have acted as Wayne did, under the circumstances. Though I think the execution of the order might have been delayed until the enemy came in sight."

"The General no doubt had good reason for his course," said Kinnison. "He believed it to be his duty to do everything for the safety of the men he commanded, and expecting to be assailed by a much larger force than his own, he did right to destroy the foes he had in camp. I know it must have shocked his feelings to give the order, but he was a man who couldn't shrink or be driven from the plain line of duty. Now, there was that affair with the Pennsylvania line, at Morristown. I've heard several men who were at Morristown at the time, say that Wayne was wrong in daring to oppose the mutineers—that their demands were just and reasonable, and he ought rather to have led, than opposed them. But every man who knows anything of the duty of a general and a patriot must applaud Wayne."

"Can't you give us an account of that mutiny at Morristown?" enquired Hand.

THE MUTINY AT MORRISTOWN

"I can tell you what was told me by men who engaged in it," said Kinnison. "For myself, I was at that time, with the Massachusetts troops at Middlebrook. The Pennsylvania line, numbering about two thousand men, was stationed at the old camp ground at Morristown. Most of these men believed that their term of service expired at the end of the year 1779, though Congress and some of the generals thought otherwise, or that the men were enlisted to serve until the end of the war. This difficulty about the term of enlistment was the seed of the mutiny. But there were many other things that would have roused any other men to revolt. The Pennsylvanians had not received any pay for twelve months, and during the severest part of the fall, they suffered for the want of food and clothing. To expect men to bear such treatment and remain in the army when there was the slightest pretext for leaving, it was building on a sandy foundation. Patriotism and starvation were not as agreeable to common soldiers as they were to some members of Congress. Even some of the officers—men who depended upon their pay to support their families while fighting for liberty—grumbled at the conduct of those who should have supplied them. This gave the men courage, and they determined to act boldly. They appointed a serjeant-major their major-general, and at a given signal on the morning of the 1st of January, the whole line, except a part of three regiments, paraded under arms, and without their regular officers, marched to the magazines, supplied themselves with provisions and ammunition, and secured six field-pieces, to which they attached horses from General Wayne's stables. The regular officers collected those who had not joined the mutineers, and tried to restore order; but some of the mutineers fired, killed Captain Billings, and, I believe, wounded several of his men. They then ordered those who remained with the officers to join them or meet death by the bayonet, and they obeyed. Then General Wayne appeared, and, by threats and offers of better treatment, endeavoured to put an end to the revolt. The men all idolized Wayne; they would have followed him almost anywhere, but they would not listen to his remonstrances on this occasion. Wayne then cocked his pistol as if he meant to frighten them back to duty; but they placed their bayonets to his breast, and told him that, although they loved and respected him, if he fired his pistols or attempted to enforce his commands, they would put him to death. General Wayne then saw their determination, and didn't fire; but he appealed to their patriotism, and they spoke of the impositions of Congress. He told them that their conduct would strengthen the enemy. But ragged clothes and skeleton forms were arguments much stronger than any Wayne could bring against them. The men declared their intention to march to Congress at Philadelphia, and demand a redress of grievances. Wayne then changed his policy and resolved to go with the current and guide it. He supplied the men with provisions to prevent them from committing depredations on the people of the country, and marched with them to Princeton, where a committee of serjeants drew up a list of demands. They wanted those men to be discharged whose term of service had expired, and the whole line to receive their pay and clothing. General Wayne had no power to agree to these demands, and he referred further negociation to the government of Pennsylvania, and a committee to be appointed by Congress. But the cream of the matter is to come. The news of the revolt reached General Washington and Sir Henry Clinton on the same day. Washington ordered a thousand men to be ready to march from the Highlands of the Hudson to quell the revolt, and called a council of war to decide on further measures. This council sanctioned general Wayne's course, and decided to leave the matter to the settlement of the government of Pennsylvania and Congress. You see, General Washington had long been worried by the sleepy way Congress did business, and he thought this affair would wake them up to go to work in earnest. The British commander-in-chief thought he could gain great advantage by the revolt, and so he very promptly sent two emissaries—one a British serjeant and the other a Tory named Ogden—to the mutineers, offering them pardon for past offences, full pay for their past service, and the protection of the British government, if they would lay down their arms and march to New York. So certain was Clinton that his offers would be accepted, that he crossed over to Staten Island with a large body of troops, to act as circumstances might require. But he was as ignorant of the character of our men as King George himself. They wanted to be fed and clothed, and wanted their families provided for; but they were not soldiers fighting merely for pay. Every man of them knew what freedom was, and had taken the field to secure it for his country. You may judge how such men received Clinton's proposals. They said they were not Arnolds, and that America had no truer friends than themselves; and then seized the emissaries and their papers and handed them over to Wayne and the mercy of a court-martial. The men were tried as spies, found guilty and executed. A reward which had been offered for their apprehension was tendered to the mutineers who had seized them. But they refused it. One of them said that necessity had wrung from them the act demanding justice from Congress, but they wanted no reward for doing their duty to their bleeding country. Congress appointed a commissioner to meet the mutineers at Princeton, and soon after their demands were satisfied. A large part of the Line was disbanded for the winter, and the remainder was well supplied with provisions and clothing. About the middle of January, the greater part of the New Jersey line, which was encamped near Pompton, followed the example of the Pennsylvanians, and revolted; but different measures were taken to quell them. General Washington ordered General Robert Howe to march with five hundred men, and reduce the rebels to submission. Howe marched four days through a deep snow, and reached the encampment of the Jersey troops on the 27th of January. His men were paraded in line, and he then ordered the mutineers to appear unarmed in front of their huts, within five minutes. They hesitated, but on a second order, they obeyed. Three of the chief movers in the revolt were tried and sentenced to be shot. Two of them suffered, and the third was pardoned as being less to blame. The two who were shot fell by the hands of twelve of the most guilty of the mutineers. That, I think, was piling it on rather too thick. General Howe then addressed them by platoons, and ordered their officers to resume their commands. Clinton had again sent an emissary to make offers to the mutineers; but the man heard of the fate of the Tory and the British serjeant, and he took his papers to General Howe instead of the men. These Jersey mutineers were reduced to submission, without much difficulty. But the Pennsylvanians displayed a determination to fight if their demands were not satisfied, and so they gained their point."

"Perhaps," said Hand, "the Jersey troops had not as much reason to revolt as the Pennsylvanians."

"I know they hadn't as much reason," said Kinnison. "They had suffered as much for want of food and clothing, but their term of service was more certainly known."

"How nobly the men treated the offers of Sir Henry Clinton!" said Hand. "I should think the British government might have learned from that affair, the spirit of the Americans, and the futility of efforts to conquer men with such motives and sentiments."

"They might have learned it if they had wished to learn," said Pitts. "They might have learned the same thing from the Boston tea-party. But they determined that they had a right to act towards us just as they pleased, and their pride was blind to consequences."

"One may look through Greek and Roman history in vain to find men holding such noble and patriotic sentiments, while harassed with want of every kind," said Hand, growing eloquent.

"Ah! those were times to try the metal men were made of," said Colson. "The men who took up the sword and gun for freedom were resolved to win their country's safety or die in the attempt, and such men will not be bought at any price. Arnold was a mere soldier—never a patriot."

"I might combat that last remark," said Davenport, "but I'll let it go."

"Come, Brown, more music," exclaimed Warner. "The dinner and the dull conversation makes some of us drowsy. Stir us up, man!"

"There's nothing like the fife and drum for rousing men," said Kinnison. "I hate these finnicking, soft and love-sick instruments, such as pianos, guitars and some others they play on now-a-days. There's no manliness about them."

Brown and Hanson, having produced their old martial instruments, then struck up "The Star-Spangled Banner," the best of the national anthems of America. Soon after the last roll of the fife had ended, Hand, without invitation, struck up the anthem itself, and sang the words with great force, the whole company joining in the two last lines of every verse. The music and the anthem thoroughly roused the old as well as the young members of the company, and, at its conclusion, three cheers were lustily given for the stars and stripes. One of the young men then said that he had a song to sing, which would be new to the company; but still was not an original composition. The music was stirring and appropriate. The words were as follows:—

 
Freemen! arise, and keep your vow!
The foe are on our shore,
And we must win our freedom now,
Or yield forevermore.
 
 
The share will make a goodly glaive—
Then tear it from the plough!
Lingers there here a crouching slave!
Depart, a recreant thou!
 
 
Depart, and leave the field to those
Determined to be free,
Who burn to meet their vaunting foes
And strike for liberty.
 
 
Why did the pilgrim cross the wave?
Say, was he not your sire?
And shall the liberty he gave
Upon his grave expire!
 
 
The stormy wave could not appal;
Nor where the savage trod;
He braved them all, and conquer'd all,
For freedom and for God.
 
 
We fight for fireside and for home,
For heritage, for altar;
And, by the God of yon blue dome,
Not one of us shall falter!
 
 
We'll guard them, though the foeman stood
Like sand-grains on our shore,
And raise our angry battle-flood,
And whelm the despots o'er.
 
 
We've drawn the sword, and shrined the sheath
Upon our father's tomb;
And when the foe shall sleep in death,
We'll sheath it o'er their doom.
 
 
Firm be your step, steady your file,
Unbroken your array;
The spirits of the blest shall smile
Upon our deeds to-day.
 
 
Unfurl the banner of the free
Amidst the battle's cloud;
Its folds shall wave to Liberty,
Or be to us a shroud.
 
 
O'er those who fall, a soldier's tear
Exulting shall be shed;
We'll bear them upon honour's bier,
To sleep in honour's bed.
 
 
The maiden, with her hurried breath
And rapture-beaming eye,
Shall all forget the field of death
To bless the victory.
 
 
The child, O! he will bless his sire,
The mother bless her son,
And God, He will not frown in ire,
When such a field is won.
 

"Good!" exclaimed Kinnison, when the song was done. "That is a war-song of '76, I know."

"It is," replied the singer; "and judging from what I have heard you say, it expresses in it the feeling of the period."

"A truce to songs and music," said Davenport. "I never was fond of any kind of music but that of the fife and drum, and I never needed that to put me in a condition to stand fire."

"You are too gloomy," said Kinnison.

"I have had cause enough for gloominess," said Davenport.

"But I wanted to talk to you about something—and that was my reason for checking you. You talk so much about the treason of Arnold, and say that he never was a patriot, that I wanted to tell you of another man's treason, not to excuse Arnold, but to show you that he wasn't alone in preferring the British side of the question, and that there were bolder patriots than Paulding, Williams, and Van Wert, the captors of André.

"We know there were plenty of traitors and patriots in the country without a showing," said Kinnison, "but go on with your narrative."

"But this will prove that all censure should not be heaped upon Arnold's head, nor all the praise on the militia-men of Tarry-town," observed Davenport.

THE TREASON OF BETTYS

"When the Revolutionary War broke out," said Davenport, beginning his narrative, "there was a man named Joseph Bettys, who lived in Ballston, New York, remarkable for his courage, strength and intelligence. Colonel Ball of the Continental forces saw that Bettys might be of great service to our cause, and succeeded in enlisting him as a serjeant. But he was soon afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account of his insolence to an officer, who, he said, had abused him without cause. Colonel Ball was not acquainted with the facts of the affair, but being unwilling to lose so active and courageous a man, he procured him the rank of a serjeant in the fleet commanded by General Arnold, on Lake Champlain. Bettys was as skilful a seaman as could be found in the service, and during the desperate fight between the fleets which occurred in the latter part of 1776, he rendered more service than any other man except Arnold himself. He fought until every commissioned officer on board of his vessel was either killed or wounded, then took command himself, and fought with such reckless and desperate spirit, that General Waterbury seeing the vessel was about to sink, ordered Bettys and the remnant of his crew to come on board his vessel. Waterbury then stationed Bettys on his quarter-deck, and gave orders through him until his vessel was crippled, and the crew mostly killed or wounded, when the colours were struck to the enemy. After that action Bettys went to Canada, and, turning traitor, received an ensign's commission in the British army. He then became a spy, and one of the most subtle enemies of our cause. But our men were wide awake. Bettys was arrested, tried and condemned to be hung at West Point. His old parents and many influential Whigs entreated that he should be pardoned, promising that he would mend his life. General Washington, you know, never took life where it could be spared, and so he granted the pardon. But it was generosity thrown away; Bettys hated the Americans the more because they had it in their power to pardon him, and resolved to make them feel he could not be humbled and led in that way. The Whigs regretted the mercy that had spared the traitor. Bettys recruited soldiers for the enemy in the very heart of the country; captured and carried of the most zealous patriots, and subjected them to great suffering. Those against whom he had the most hatred, had their houses burned, and often lost their lives. The British commander paid him well, for he was one of the best spies and most faithful messenger that could be found. His courage and determination overcame every obstacle and encountered every danger that would have appalled weaker men. He proclaimed himself to be a man who carried his life in his hand, and was as reckless of it as he would be of that of any who should attempt to catch him. It was well understood that Bettys meant precisely what he said, and that he always had a band of refugees ready to support him in any rascality he might conceive. Still, there were some bold men, who had suffered from Bettys' depredations, and who determined to catch him at every hazard. Many attempts were made, but he eluded his pursuers by his stratagems and knowledge of the country, until early in January, 1782, when he was seen in the neighbourhood of Ballston, armed, and with snow-shoes on. Three men, named Cory, Fulmer, and Perkins, armed themselves and proceeded in pursuit. They traced Bettys by a round-about track to the house of a well-known Tory. They consulted a few minutes, and one of them reconnoitred to see the exact position of Bettys. The traitor was at his meal, with his pistols lying on the table and his rifle resting on his arm, prepared for an attack though not suspecting foes were near. The three men, by a sudden effort, burst open the door, rushed upon Bettys, and seized him in such a manner that he could make no resistance. He was then pinioned so firmly that to escape was impossible; and so the desperado, in spite of all his threats, was a tame and quiet prisoner, and no one hurt in taking him. Bettys then asked leave to smoke, which was granted; and he took out his tobacco, with something else which he threw into the fire. Cory saw this movement, and snatched it out, with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, containing a paper, written in cypher, which the men could not read. It was afterwards found to be a despatch to the British commander at New York, with an order upon the Mayor of that city for thirty pounds, if the despatch was safely delivered. Bettys knew that this paper alone would be evidence enough to hang him, and he offered the men gold to let him burn it. But they refused his highest offers. He had a considerable quantity of gold about him, and he offered them not only that but much more if they would allow him to escape; but their patriotism could stand gold as well as the gold could stand fire. They took Bettys to Albany, where he was tried as a spy and hung. The only reward that the three men ever received was the rifle and pistols of Bettys. The men who captured André were patriotic enough, but their work was easy compared with that of Cory, Fulmer and Perkins. Yet the names of these heroes are scarcely ever mentioned, and the story of their daring exploit is not generally known."

"Did this affair happen before that of André's?" enquired Hand. "If so, these men only imitated the noble example of Paulding, Williams and Van Wert."

"It did occur after the capture of André," replied Davenport. "But that takes nothing from the danger of the attempt, or the amount of the temptation resisted."

"That's true," replied Hand; "but the capture of André, and the favour with which our countrymen regarded his captors, may have stimulated many to patriotic exertions, and thereby have made such deeds so common as not to receive special notice. I've no doubt the researches of historians will yet bring to light many such deeds."

"How the conduct of such men as Arnold and Bettys contrasts with that of Samuel Adams and his fellow-patriots!" remarked Warner. "When the first resistance was made to quartering the British troops in Boston, Samuel Adams was the leader and mouth-piece of the patriots, and the royal rulers of Massachusetts tried every way to induce him to abandon the cause he had espoused. In the first place, they threatened him with severe punishment. But they couldn't scare him from his chosen course. Then they flattered and caressed him, but it was of no effect. At last, Governor Gage resolved to try whether bribes wouldn't work a change. So, he sent Col. Fenton to him, as a confidential messenger. The Colonel visited Adams, and stated his business at length, concluding with a representation that by complying, Adams would make his peace with the king. The stern patriot heard him through, and then asked him if he would deliver his reply to Governor Gage as it should be given. The Colonel said he would. Then Adams assumed a determined manner, and replied, 'I trust I have long since made my peace with the King of kings. No personal consideration shall induce me to abandon the righteous cause of my country. Tell Governor Gage, it is the advice of Samuel Adams to him, no longer to insult the feelings of an exasperated people.' There was the highest reach of patriotic resolution."

"Aye, Samuel Adams was whole-souled and high-souled," said Davenport. "No one will dispute that, who knows any thing of his history."

"New England had a host of patriots at the same period," observed Kinnison. "Many of them did not possess the talents and energy of Samuel Adams, but the heart was all right."