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THE CAMP-FIRE AT MIDDLEBROOK (continued)
[The RSAR editor is unsure from where this is continued; we are searching for the beginning.]|
"He wasn't alone in his boldness," returned the narrator of the incident. "We were all anxious to attack the picket,
and as bold in doing it, as he was."
"Well," said Josiah, who had been listening to the story with an incredulity natural to those who are in the habit of violating the truth, "I'll be darned if I believe it. It ain't one bit more natural than my story about shootin' that red-coat through two trees, each a foot thick, you critters wouldn't swaller that, and I'll be darned if you oughtn't to throw up at this one!" "Come, come," interposed the literary man, "have some conscience, Josiah. This story is very probable. There have been many such incidents during the war. Some have come under my own notice. But nobody can believe your story, because it's impossible for such a feat to be done." "Well," replied Josiah, with the air of a man who, his credit being called in question, considers it of little moment, "hev it your own way, as the man said when he was beatin' his horse and the horse would turn round." "Yes," said the backwoodsman, "we will have it our own way; but don't you beat us with any more such yarns as that, or we'll beat you!" "Oh, come, don't let's have any more talking about the matter. It's not worth it," observed the literary gentleman, with his usual decisive judgment. "Will any of you sing?" No one answering the appeal, the speaker said he would sing, himself, though he had no voice for singing, and, besides, had a bad cold. The company listened to these excuses as things of course, and the volunteer, after sundry other indispensable preliminaries, proceeded with a song very popular during the Revolutionary war, and which, he said, would do more credit to his patriotism than his literary taste. The day is broke; my boys, push on,"That's one of the songs of "76," remarked the singer, when he had concluded. "That was written soon after the surrender of the Hessians, at Trenton." "We're to credit it to you, as original, I suppose?" asked the New-Yorker. "You needn't mind that," replied the literary man. The song will do tolerably well to amuse a mess like this, but nothing more." "Ah! I see how it is --- your modesty prevails you from claiming it," said the New-Yorker. "Well," said the literary man, anxious to divert attention from his song, "some of you must follow Josiah, can't you give us a song? We're not hard to please." "Oh," replied Josiah, "my singin's so orful bad; besides, I don't know nothin' but 'Yankee Doodle,' and 'Come out, ye Continentallers.'" "Well, we ain't tired of hearin' them 'ere songs; just drive ahead with one of 'em," said the backwoodsman. "Anything to keep the pot a b'ilin'," added one of the Yankees. Cheered on by these observations, Josiah sang, in the peculiarly nasal tones of the people of New England, the following song: --- COME OUT, YE CONTINENTALLERS. Come out, ye continentallers!The men laughed over this song for about the hundredth time. It pictures the first marching of some of the "awkward squad," enlisted for the continental service, and was intended to ridicule the militia in general. "That's a never-tirin' song," observed the backwoodsman. "Almost as good as Yankee doodle," added Josh. "I wonder if Josh didn't belong to that company?" enquired the New-Yorker. "Ah, you oughter seen our company the day we left Longville," returned Josiah. "Such a time among the gals and their fellers, and sich a fixin' o' guns and rusty swords, a-tryin' to look smart, was never seen on airth afore." "You were a fierce-looking set of men, no doubt," observed the literary man; and then, wishing to give a more instructive turn to the conversation, he asked Josiah where the first place at which they were engaged was. "Newport was the first place where we were put in service. It was last August. There it was that that 'tarnal French count backed out with his fleet," replied Josiah. "Can't you give us some account of that attack, and the reason for its failure?" continued the literary man. "Well," answered Josiah, "the reason of the things fallin' through, was nothin' more nor less than the backin' out of the French mountseers, as I told you afore. "It warn't the fault of our troops, no how. But I'll tell you how it was, and all about it. You see, General Sullivan commanded the troops at Providence, in Rhode Island; and when it was agreed that there should be an attack on Newport, to be joined in by the army of Sullivan and the fleet of the Frenchmen, all the militia in the country went to help in it --- our company among the rest; so that Sullivan soon had an army of ten thousand men. We were also joined by Lafayette and General Greene. "The army marched from Providence to Tiverton, under the command of Greene. It was agreed between Sullivan and the French count, --- Dea-ting, I think they called him, --- that they should land their forces at Portsmouth on the 10th, in the morning. The Britishers were commanded by Sir Robert Pigot, and were about six thousand strong. On the 9th, we received news that the enemy had left their works on the north end of the island on which Newport stands, and had retreated inside of their lines, about three miles from Newport. Sullivan concluded to push over to the island at once, without minding the bargain with Dea-ting. So, about eight o'clock, the right wing of the army, under Greene, began to cross from Tiverton, and the rest of us followed. I forgot to tell you that John Hancock was the major-general of the Massachusetts militia. "When we landed, we took post on the heights at the north end of the island. There we encamped; but we had a hard time of it. The militia didn't think about such sogerin' as that, when we used to parade in Longville. It blew about the hardest, and rained about the hardest, on the 12th, that ever I did see. Towards night, the wind and rain increased. We couldn't keep a tent standing, to save us. Even the generals, who oughter fare better than anybody else in the army, couldn't keep their marquees about their heads. I was wet to the skin, and e'enamost blowed away. Several of the militia were killed by bein' struck in the head with tent-poles, and some by the hail-stones, which, some do say, were as big as two-pound cannon balls." The men held up their hands in astonishment at the monstrosity of the statement, and some whistled in a low tone. "I say, Josh," put in the backwoodsman, "how did you happen to keep clear of those hail-stones?" "Oh, it's not for me to explain these things. I'm only tellin' you the fact. But, as I was sayin', several of the militia were killed. A good many of the horses were either drowned, or killed in the same way as the men. The best part of our amminition was damaged by the water. Indeed, we were in as hard a condition as one could think of. The enemy had been in better quarters than we had, and when the storm cleared away, on the 14th, there was a first-rate chance for them to whip us. But as they didn't try it, we spent all that day in dryin' our clothes and the amminition, and fixin' ourselves for a march. "The next mornin', we set out at six o'clock, and took post about two miles from the enemy's lines. There we rested till the 20th, when we opened two four-gun batteries. About two o'clock that afternoon, we discovered the French fleet standin' for Newport, and, at seven o'clock, General Greene and Lafayette went on board of one of the French ships, to consult with Dea-ting and his officers. I've heard tell, since, that the count was willin' enough to go into Newport harbor, but his officers were a kind of cross-grained, and wouldn't agree to it; so, instead of helpin' us through with the expedition, he sailed for Boston, on the 22d. that was a miserable botchin' piece of business. "Between two and three thousand of the volunteers left us in twenty-four hours; and they continued to go off, till our whole force was only a little more than that of the red-coats. There was nothin' left for us to do, then, but to retreat; because we hadn't force enough to storm the works, nor wouldn't have had, if the volunteers had all remained; seein' that the biggest part of 'em had never seen a battle. Accordin'ly, by the 26th, all the spare heavy artillery and baggage were sent of the island, and on the night o the 28th, the army began to move to the north end. It had been resolved, in a council of war, to move the army there, and then to fortify the ground, and hold it till we should fid out whether there was any chance of the French fleet comin' back. We marched all night, and arrived on the ground about three o'clock in the mornin', with all our baggage and cetera. "About seven, we were surprised by a brisk fire of musketry in our front, between our advanced troops and the enemy, who had pushed out after us, when they found out that we were retreatin'. I was with the brigade of militia under General Lovell; and, without any braggin', we did our duty that day. Our advanced troops stood the fire for some time, and paid the red-coats in their own coin; but they were obliged to give way before the numbers of the enemy. They kept up a pretty orderly fire as they fell back, till they were reinforced; when they halted, and fought for awhile so obstinate that they give the red-coats a check. More of our troops were sent to their help, and the Britishers were driven back; but that was only for a little while. "More troops reinforced them, and our men were driven back near to the front line of the main army, which had been drawn up in order of battle. We had a redoubt on our right, which was our advanced post. This the Britishers tried to get at three times; but they were each time driven back by our brave boys; the last time, they were awfully cut up. The artillery fired during the whole day, and the musketry for about six hours; and it's the greatest wonder to me that there wasn't ore killin' done than there was. After the retreat of the Britishers, neither of the armies could approach the field without bein' raked by the cannon; so we couldn't do any more that night. "The next mornin', Sullivan got news that Dea-ting, the French count, couldn't come, so he expected, with his troops and help us; and also, that Lord Howe, the English admiral, had sailed again. He then decided to leave Rhode Island; and mind I tell you, that was a nice job to undertake. The sentinels of the two armies were within about four hundred yards of each other, and you may judge what a deal of care it needed to keep 'em from gettin' wind of it. The way we done it was this. A number of tents were brought out and pitched right in sight of the enemy, and the whole army appeared to be fortifyin' the camp. At the same time, the heavy baggage and stores were fallin' back, and carried over the bay. "At dark, the tents were struck, the light baggage and the troops passed down, and by twelve o'clock, the whole army had crossed. We slipped away as quietly as a mouse through a hole in the trap. Lafayette arrived from Boston just as the last part o the army was preparin' to retreat. He brought off the pickets that covered the retreat, without losin' a man, or leavin' a single article behind. It was altogether one of the slickest back-outs ever made anywhere." "Very nicely done, indeed," Said the literary man. "Yes; but though the retreat was nice enough, that ain't what we went there for," returned Josiah. "We counted sure on takin' Newport, and we got cheated out of it by the 'tarnal Mountseers." "Oh, well," said the literary man, "the Mountseers, as you call them, are good enough sometimes, and we ought to be thankful for their assistance in this war." "Give me the Yankee nation, in a fightin' time," said Josiah. "These Mountseers may be well enough sometimes, but their conduct on that partic'lar 'casion kind o' riled me." "Der Frenchmen is goot," observed the Conestoga farmer, who had been gruly listening to the conversation. No doubt he had seen some of the bravery of Lafayette. "Yes," replied the literary man, "the French are a brave nation. They are our friends now --- the very time when we need friends. A braver man than Lafayette never lived, and I've seen a good many more of them who were almost as good soldiers as he is. But, come, it must be getting late. We had better fix the fire, and turn in for the night. We can afford to leave the French to vindicate themselves from any aspersions upon their character. I think they'll do it before long." Those of the party who were generally idle listeners to the conversation of the rest of the mess, gathered themselves up at this remark of the ruling spirit, and the whole party were soon safely stowed for the night, there being no undressing to occupy the time, where the bed consisted of little straw and a blanket. |
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