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Read Ebook: The Sun of Saratoga: A Romance of Burgoyne's Surrender by Altsheler Joseph A Joseph Alexander
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Ebook has 849 lines and 29703 words, and 17 pages
sity or friendship, for approaching travelers in such troublous times. But as we rode nearer I saw that I was mistaken.
"Our inquiring friends of the tavern," said Whitestone.
He spoke the truth. I recognized them readily. When we were within fifteen feet they drew their horses across the way, blocking it.
"What does this mean, gentlemen? Why do you stop us?" I asked.
"We are an American patrol," replied the foremost of the two, the one who had questioned me at the tavern, "and we can not let anybody pass here. It is against our orders."
Both wore ragged Continental coats, which I suppose they had brought out of some recess before they started on the circuit ahead of us.
I signed to Whitestone to keep silent, and rode up close to the leader.
"We ought to understand each other," I said, speaking in a confident and confidential tone.
"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.
I burst out laughing, as if I were enjoying the best joke in the world.
"I hate rebels," I said, leaning over and tapping him familiarly on the shoulder with my finger.
"I don't understand you," he said.
"I mean that you hate rebels too," I replied, "and that you are just as much of a rebel as I am."
"Hi should think so! Hi could tell by the look hof their countenances that they are hof the right sort," broke in Whitestone, dropping every h where it belonged and putting on every one where it did not belong.
It was Whitestone's first and last appearance on any occasion as an Englishman, but it was most successful.
A look of intelligence appeared on the faces of the two men.
"Of Bayle's regiment in Burgoyne's army, both of us," I said.
"I thought it, back yonder in Albany," said the leader, "but why did you fence us off so?"
"One doesn't always know his friends, first glance, especially in rebel towns," I said. "Like you, I thought so, but I couldn't take the risk and declare myself until I knew more about you."
"That's true," he acknowledged. "These rebels are so cursedly sly."
"Very, very sly," I said, "but we've fooled 'em this time."
I pointed to their Continental coats and to ours. Then we laughed all together.
"Tell me what really happened up there," said the man.
"It was a great battle," I said, "but we drove them off the field, and we can take care of ourselves. Six thousand British and German veterans care little for all the raw militia this country can raise."
"That's so," he said. We laughed again, all together.
"How is everything down there?" I asked, nodding my head toward the south.
"Clinton's coming with a strong fleet and five thousand men," he replied. "What they say in the town is all true."
"Small thanks he will get from Burgoyne," I said. "Our general will like it but little when Clinton comes to strip him of part of his glory."
"I suppose you are right," he answered, "but I did not think Burgoyne was finding his way so easy. I understood that the first battle at Saratoga stopped him."
"Don't you trouble yourself about Burgoyne," I said. "If he stopped, he stopped for ample reasons."
Which was no lie.
"But we must hasten," I continued. "Our messages to Clinton will bear no delay."
"Luck with you," they said.
"Luck with you," we replied, waving our hands in friendly salute as we rode away, still to the south.
Whether they ever found out the truth I do not know, for I never saw or heard of either again.
We continued our journey in silence for some time. Whitestone looked melancholy.
"What is the matter?" I asked.
"It was too easy," he replied. "I always pity fools."
He lighted his pipe and sought consolation.
WE MEET THE FLEET.
The night soon came and was very dark. We were compelled to stop for rest and for food, which we found at a farmer's house. But we were satisfied with our day's work. We had started, and with the appearance of fact too, the report that Burgoyne had beaten us in pitched battle. We knew the report would be carried far and wide, and Clinton would think haste was not needed. Let me repeat that to win a battle is not to win a campaign, and I hold no general's commission either.
In the morning we met a few countrymen in a state of much fright. "Clinton is coming!" was all that we could get from them. We thought it more than likely that Clinton was coming in truth, since all the reports said he and his ships ought to be very near now.
"The river is the place to look," said Whitestone.
We turned our horses that way, and in a few minutes stood upon its high banks.
"See," said Whitestone, pointing a long arm and an outstretched finger.
I saw, and I saw, moreover, that our search was ended. Far down the river was the British fleet, a line of white specks upon the silver bosom of the water. We could scarce trace hull or sail or mast, but ships they were without mistake, and British ships they must be, since we had none. It was not a pleasant sight for us, but it would have rejoiced the heart of Burgoyne had he been there to see.
Meanwhile the fleet grew under the horizon of the river. We could trace masts and spars, and see the sails as they filled out with the wind. The little black figures on the decks were men.
A quarter of a mile or more below us we saw a rocky projection into the river. I proposed to Whitestone that we ride at least that far and decide afterward on further action.
We rode rapidly, but before we were halfway to the place we met men running--frightened men at that. Their condition of mind showed plainly on their faces. They wore militia uniforms, and we knew them to be some of our citizen soldiery, who are sometimes a very speedy lot, not being trained to the military business. We tried to stop them and find out why they were running and whence they came; but all we could get out of them was, "The British are coming, with a hundred ships and forty thousand men!" At last, half by persuasion and half by force, we induced one man to halt; he explained that he had been sent with the others to man a battery of four guns on the point. When they saw the British fleet coming, some of the raw militia had taken fright and fled, carrying the others with them.
"But the ships may not be here for an hour," I protested.
"So much the better," he said, "for it gives us the more time."
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