Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  TOM INVESTIGATES

  THERE were many exclamations of impatience heard in the boat as Benzeorchanged her course, and the helmsman himself appeared to be the mostimpatient of all. A drizzling rain was now falling and there were manysigns apparent that a stormy night was approaching.

  "I wish I knew just what the warning was for," muttered Benzeor. "Finenight this, to be prowling around the bay in!"

  "There was no mistake about the sign, though," replied Jacob. "There'ssomething wrong, or we shouldn't have seen the white flag. That meansthere's something going on up the Navesink."

  "All the more reason for going home then!" said Benzeor. "Who was on thelookout to-day? Does any one know?"

  "Yes, 't was Peter Van Mater," said Tom, who up to this time had takenno part in the conversation. "He told me yesterday that he was to be inthe tree to-day."

  "What! Little Peter?" demanded Benzeor quickly.

  "Yes," replied Tom. "I saw him out by their cornfield yesterday. He wasthere driving away the crows and blackbirds."

  "Little" Peter was so called to distinguish him from his father who borethe same name; and although his son, a well-grown young fellow ofeighteen, towered more than a half head above "Big" Peter now, thedistinctive names given several years before this time still clung tothem both.

  The Van Mater place joined the Osburn farm, and for years Tom and LittlePeter had been the best of friends. On those rare occasions when a briefbreak in the arduous labors on the farms had come, together they hadgone crabbing, or had sailed down to Barnegat, where the sea-fowlgathered in great flocks when the proper seasons came.

  Tom's heart had gone out to Little Peter as it had not to any otherperson. Peter's round face shone with an expression of good nature whichnothing but the mention of a tory or a pine robber seemed to be able toruffle. A reference to either of them never failed to arouse the dormantanger of the lad, and with all the intensity of his quiet and strongnature he hated both. For the Van Maters, even to the mother and thegirls, were patriots of the strongest kind, and now Big Peter was awayin Washington's army and had left his eldest son and namesake to protectthe family and manage the farm in his absence.

  And Little Peter had accepted the task with an outward assent thatdeceived even his own father. Only to Tom had he mentioned his truefeelings, and expressed his determination to buy up his time, so thathe, too, might be enrolled in the patriot army.

  Tom Coward well knew that the words expressed Little Peter's feelingsand desires rather than his purpose, for he was satisfied that nothingwould induce his friend to desert his mother and the children in theirtime of need. But he had fully sympathized with Peter in his desire tobuy up his time, and there were special reasons why the words meant muchmore to him than they did to his friend.

  About a decade before this time, when one of the numerous "Septembergales" was raging along the Jersey shore, a great crowd had assembled onthe beach watching the efforts of a schooner they could see, about amile out on the ocean, to weather the storm. All day long the crowd hadremained there, powerless to aid the stricken people on board thestorm-tossed boat, for this was long before the time of the life-savingcrews and their noble work along the coast.

  Late in the afternoon on that eventful day, when the storm had abatedsomewhat, although the waves, like moving mountains of water, still camethundering in upon the beach, a boat had been manned and started forthto the aid of the people in their peril; but before the brave band couldgain the schooner, she had foundered and gone to the bottom.

  The men who had gone forth to the rescue had been about to return to theshore, when they thought they saw something floating over the boisterouswaves toward them. When a second glance was obtained they startedswiftly toward the object, and, as they drew near, saw a huge cottonbale with a woman and a little lad strapped upon it. At last, after somedesperate efforts, the bodies were rescued, but that of the woman waslifeless and that of the lad was nearly so.

  The rough men had brought both ashore, and, after some labor on the partof the women in the assembly, the lad had been restored, but the womanwas beyond all earthly aid. Upon some of the clothing of the rescued boythe name Coward had been found, and "Tom" was improvised, for that woulddo as well as any other for the name of a stranger lad whose home andparents were to be, as the people of Old Monmouth thought, foreverwrapped in mystery.

  Tom Coward had been the sole survivor of the wreck. For days someportions of the ill-fated schooner and its cargo were washed ashore, butno clue was ever found as to her name or destination.

  What to do with the rescued lad then became the perplexing problem amongthe simple folk of Monmouth, and it was at last solved by "binding himout" to Benzeor Osburn, which simply meant that Tom was to live with theman who had taken him until he was twenty-one years of age, and inreturn for the home he received he was to give his labor and life untilthat eventful day should arrive when he, too, would become a man.

  The lad had gone, for he had no voice in the matter, and all the home hehad ever known had been with Benzeor and his family. Only a faintrecollection of the wreck remained in his mind, but he had heard thestory many times and thought much over it in secret. Often had hevisited the unmarked grave in the churchyard, where he was informed thatall that was mortal of his mother lay resting. But her name and facewere both alike unknown to him. In his dreams, or when he had beenworking alone in some of the distant fields, it would almost seem to himthat something of another existence would rise before him, or that hecould almost see the face of a gracious woman bending low over him whomhe could call "mother."

  Who he might be he could not determine. Who he was, was a matter muchmore easily settled, for all knew him as the "bound boy" of BenzeorOsburn; and while some of the country people might occasionally think ofhim as the little lad, who years before had been rescued from a sinkingschooner, they seldom referred to it, and the past had been crowded outby the present. But Tom Coward had not entirely forgotten.

  Benzeor had received him into his home the more readily because, as heexpressed it, "all of his boys had been born girls," and he felt theneed of the aid and presence of a boy about the place. And Benzeor inhis way had not been unkind to the stranger lad, or at least notintentionally so, but the labor on the farms in those days had beensevere, and he was a man to whom money had been the one thing needful.He did not spare himself, and certainly he had no thought of sparingthose who were dependent upon him; and, as a natural consequence,neither the girls nor Tom, and much less the overworked, spiritlesslittle mother of the family, found much to relieve the monotonous roundof labor on the farm.

  At first, Tom had not complained and had accepted all as a matter ofcourse, but of late his heart had rebelled against his lot more andmore. It was not that he did not appreciate the rough kindness which wasextended to him, especially by the patient, uncomplaining mother and thetwo girls, Sarah and Mercy, who were nearest his own age. But certainundefined longings kept rising in his soul, he knew not how, and theincreasing eagerness of Benzeor "to make his place pay" had apparentlydriven all else from the mind of his foster father.

  Perhaps more than any of these things, his interviews with his friendLittle Peter had stirred his soul, for Peter had longings, too, and, ashas been said, had even declared his intention "to buy up his own time."That he was a son in his own home, and was surrounded by the love offather and mother, had not made the purpose in Peter's heart appear inthe least strange or unusual, for the custom was not unknown among thosesturdy forefathers of ours. When they had cared for a boy in his infancyand helpless years, it was considered as no more than a just return thatthe years of early manhood, which would naturally be of value to thefathers in their labors on the farms, should belong not to the son butto the father. So whenever a well-grown boy felt that he would like tostart in for himself, it was not unusual for him to offer, or to promiseto pay as soon as he could earn the money, the amount which wasconsidered as a fair equivalent for the value of his se
rvices in the fewyears before he became "of age," and could enter upon his own career.

  In those days the obligation of the child to his father was emphasized.In our own time the obligation of the father to his child is consideredthe more important, and all that love and devotion can offer are laid atthe feet of the children.

  Perhaps justice lies somewhere between these two extremes, and no one ofus desires to return to the harsher methods of those earlier years; butcertainly the children who are so fortunate as to be born in these morefortunate times have some need of recalling the words of one who, longbefore the trying days of the Revolution, exhorted all to "honor theirfathers and mothers."

  Be that as it may, Tom Coward thought much and long over his friendPeter's project, and even went so far at one time as to hint to Benzeorthat he would not be averse to entering into some such arrangement withhim. But Benzeor's indignation, and the grief with which Sarah heard ofthe proposal, had silenced him, and he had not referred to the matteragain.

  None the less, however, did it remain in his thoughts, and of late thesuspicion with which he had come to regard many of Benzeor's actions hadincreased his feeling of discontent, for Tom's sympathies were all withthe colonies in their struggle.

  Many a time had he and Peter talked over the matter, and the eagernessof one to serve in the army was fully shared by the other. But Benzeor'spatriotism seemed all to be dormant, and as the troubles increased, hiszeal to make money steadily increased also. At times he would be absentfrom home for days together, and more than once Tom had been awakenedin the night by the sound of strange voices heard in conversation withBenzeor in the room beneath that in which he was sleeping.

  Thoughts of all these things had been in Tom's mind throughout thatvoyage to New York, and they, as well as his youthfulness, served toexplain the silence he had maintained since he had set sail. He hadknown, however, that Peter was to serve as the lookout that day, andwhen he volunteered the information it was the first time he had spokenaloud for a half hour.

  The rain now was steadily increasing, and the uneasiness of the men onboard the little boat became more marked. They were far from the tree bythis time, and no one appeared to know just what plan to follow.

  "If I was alone, I'd take all the risks," said Benzeor at last.

  "You needn't stop on our account," replied Jacob. "I don't believethere's much danger in starting up the river, any way, for my part.Little Peter may not have seen anything to amount to much. If you wantto chance it, go ahead."

  "We don't just know what's ahead of us," said Barzilla uneasily. "Itmay be nothing, and then again it may not be. I wish there was some wayof finding out before we risk too much."

  "Why not land farther down the shore and let Tom go up and see?" saidJacob. "If Little Peter's gone, it will mean the danger's gone, too, andif he hasn't, why Tom here can find out for us and report; though for mypart I'm not afraid to go up the river as it is. It's too dark for anyone to see us, or it will be soon."

  "That's a good suggestion," said Benzeor quickly, as he brought the boatabout. "We'll land down the shore and let Tom go up for us. You're nottoo much of a 'coward' to do that, are you Tom?"

  "I'll go," said Tom quietly, although his cheeks flushed with anger atBenzeor's antiquated and brutal pun. He had heard it many times, butnever without feeling angry, although he well knew that Benzeor spokethe words lightly.

  With the change in the course the wind seemed to increase. The spray wasdashed into their faces, and the men were soon drenched. The sail hadbeen shortened, but the little boat dashed ahead with ever increasingspeed.

  "It's a rough night outside," said Benzeor, when at last he gained thedesired point on the shore. "It's lucky for us we're inside the Hook.Now then, Tom!" he added. "Bestir yourself, lad, and come back soon."

  Tom leaped ashore and ran swiftly along the beach toward the tree. Hewas familiar with its location and knew that he could find it in thedarkest night. The rain beat upon him and the darkness momentarilyincreased, but the wind was with him, and in a brief time he recognizedthe dim outlines of the tree.

  Then ceasing to run, he began to approach more cautiously. He was notpositive that Peter was there now, for some one might have taken hisplace. Certainly caution was the better part in any event.

  He stopped and whistled the half dozen notes which he and Peter used asa call. He waited a moment, but as no answer was heard he advanced alittle nearer and whistled again.

  "That you, Tom?" came from some one in the tree.

  "Yes," replied Tom.

  In a moment Peter dropped from his position, and began to explain to hisfriend the cause of the display of the signal of danger.