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

"So much the better," he said, "for it gives us the more time."

We released him, and he followed his flying comrades. Whitestone and I looked ruefully after them, but I suggested that we continue our ride to the point. Even with the ships abreast us in the river, it would be easy for us to ride away and escape the British. We rode as rapidly as the ground would allow, and soon reached the point and the deserted battery.

I could have sworn with vexation at the flight of our militia. It was a pretty battery, well planted, four trim eighteen pounders, plenty of powder, shot neatly piled, and a flag still flying from a tall pole. Whoever selected the place for the battery knew his business--which does not always happen in the military life. I looked again in the direction of the fleeing militia, but the back of the last man had disappeared.

"What a pity!" I said regretfully to Whitestone. "At least they might have trimmed the rigging a little for those British ships down yonder."

"I don't understand one thing," said Whitestone.

"What is it?" I asked.

He took his pipe from his mouth and tapped the bowl of it significantly with the index finger of his left hand.

"I can smoke that pipe, can't I?" he asked.

"I should think so!"

"So could you if you had a chance, couldn't you?"

"Certainly."

"Do you mean it, Whitestone?" I asked, the blood flying to my head at the thought.

"Mean it? I should think I did," he replied. "I used to be in the artillery, and I can handle a cannon pretty well. So can you, I think. Here are the cannon, there's ammunition a-plenty, and over us flies the brand-new flag. What more do you want?"

He replaced his pipe in his mouth, sat down on the breech of a gun, and gave himself up to content. I looked at him in admiration. I approve of so many of Whitestone's ideas, and I liked few better than this. I was young.

"Good enough, Whitestone," I said. "I, as commander, indorse the suggestion of my chief assistant."

We took our horses out of the range of the guns on the ships and fastened them securely, as we were thinking of our future needs. Then we came back to our battery. Evidently the original defenders had desired the battery to appear very formidable, for in addition to their real guns they had planted eight Quaker guns, which, seen from the center of the river, would look very threatening, I had no doubt. The four guns, genuine and true, were charged almost to the muzzle.

"I think they have seen us," said Whitestone, pointing to the ships.

It was a strong fleet--frigates and sloops. It was plain that they had seen us and had not been expecting us, for the ships were taking in sail and hovering about in an uncertain way. Officers in gilt and gold stood on their decks watching us through glasses.

"Keep down, Whitestone," I said. "We must not give them any hint as to the size of our force."

"But I think we ought to give 'em a hint that we're loaded for bear," said Whitestone. "What do you say to a shot at the nearest frigate, Mr. Shelby. I think she is within long range."

I approved, and Whitestone fired. In the stillness of a country morning the report was frightfully distinct, and the echo doubling upon and repeating itself seemed to travel both up and down the river. The shot was well aimed. It smashed right into the frigate, and there was confusion on her decks. I fired the second gun, and down came some spars and rigging on the same ship. Whitestone rubbed his hands in glee. I shouted to him to lie close, and obeyed my own command as promptly as he. The frigate was about to return our salute.

She swung around and let us have a broadside, which did great damage to the rocks and the shore. But Whitestone and I remained cozy and safe. A large sloop came up closer than the frigate and fired a volley, which sailed peacefully over our heads and made a prodigious disturbance among the trees beyond us.

"Can you get at that third gun, Whitestone?"

"Nothing easier!"

"Then give that spiteful sloop a shot. Teach her it isn't safe for a sloop to come where a frigate can't stay."

Whitestone obeyed, and his shot was most glorious. The chunk of lead struck the sloop between wind and water and must have gone right through her, for presently she began to sheer off, the signs of distress visible all over her, as if she were taking in water at the rate of a thousand gallons a minute. I clapped Whitestone on the back and shouted "Hurrah!"

But our lucky shot had stirred up the full wrath of the fleet. The ships formed in line of battle and opened their batteries on us, firing sometimes one after the other, and sometimes nearly all together. I dare say the cliffs of the Hudson, in all their long existence, have never received such another furious bombardment. Oh, it was a bad day for the trees and the bushes and the rocks, which were beaten and battered and cut and crushed by eighteen-pound shot and twelve-pound shot and six-pound shot, and the Lord knows what, until the river itself fell into a rage and began to lash its waters into a turmoil!

But Whitestone and I, with all this infernal uproar around us, lay in our brave earthworks as snug and cozy as chipmunks, and laughed to think that we were the cause of it all. I rolled over to Whitestone and shouted in his ear:

"As soon as the eruption diminishes a little we will try a fourth shot at them!"

He grinned, and both of us embraced the earth for some minutes longer. Then the fire of the enemy began to abate. We took the first chance to peep out at them, but the volume of smoke over the river was so great and so dense that we could see the ships but indistinctly.

As for ourselves, we had suffered little. One of our guns was dismounted, but it was a Quaker, and no harm was done. The fire dying, the clouds of smoke began to float away and the ships were disclosed. Whitestone and I, peeping over our earthworks, beheld a scene of great animation and excitement. The British were working hard; there was no doubt of it. The bustle on the decks was tremendous. Officers were shouting to men and to each other; men were reloading cannon and making every preparation to renew the bombardment when their officers might order it. One frigate had come too near, and was grounded slightly in shallowing water. Her crew were making gigantic efforts to get her off before our terrible battery could blow her to pieces.

The captains were using their glasses to see what was left of us, and I could guess their chagrin when they beheld us looking as formidable and as whole as ever, barring the dismounted Quaker. Our escape from injury was not so wonderful after all. We defenders were only two, and we made a very small target; while if the battery had been crowded with men the death rate would have been prodigious.

"There goes the frigate!" I cried. "They've got her off! Give her a good-by as she goes, Whitestone!"

He was lying next to the fourth gun, and he instantly sent a shot smashing into the vessel. But the shot was like a veritable torch to a powder magazine, for the fleet attacked us again with every gun it could bring to bear. The first bombardment seemed to have aroused fresh spirit and energy for the second, and Whitestone and I, taking no chances with peeps, thrust our fingers into our ears and our heads into the ground.

But we could not keep out the heavy crash-crash of the volleys, blending now and then into a continuous roar, which the river and the horizon took up and repeated. King George must have had a pretty powder-and-shot bill to pay for that day's work.

The clouds of smoke gathered in a vast black canopy over river and ships, shore and battery. Under and through it appeared now and then the dark lines of spars and ropes, and always the blazing flash of many great guns. If the stony shores of the Hudson did not suffer most grievously, let it not be charged against the British, for they displayed a spirit and energy, if not a marksmanship, worthy of their reputation.

I rejoiced at the vigor of their fire. Its volume was so great, and they must be working so hard, that they could not know the battery was making no answer.

I love to think that the British were surprised most unpleasantly. Their fire was waning, but ours was not, it seemed to them. The mischievous little battery was still there, and they had neither reduced it nor passed it. It was mirth to us to think how easily they could pass us, and yet preferred to reduce us.

It was so. The ships were hauling off, whether to refit for another attack or to consult for future action we did not know. We gave them a few shots as they drew away, and presently they anchored out of range. Boats were launched, and men in gold-laced caps and coats were rowed to the largest frigate.

"The admiral has called a conference, I guess," I said to Whitestone.

He nodded, and we inspected our battery to see how it had stood the second bombardment. Two more Quaker guns were dismounted, but one of them we were able to put again into fairly presentable condition. That done, we took some refreshment from our knapsacks, and awaited in calmness the next movement of our enemies. As it was, we flattered ourselves that we had made a gallant fight.

We waited a half hour, and then a boat put out from the big frigate. Besides the oarsmen, it contained a richly dressed officer and a white flag. They came directly toward us.

"A flag of truce and a conference," I said. "Shall we condescend, Whitestone?"

"Oh, yes," replied Whitestone. "We ought to hear what they have to say."

"Then you remain in command of the battery," I said, "and I will meet the officer."

I scrambled down the high cliff to the water's edge and awaited the boat, which I was determined should not come too near. When it came within speaking distance, I hailed the officer and ordered him to stop.

"I am Captain Middleton," he called, "and I am commissioned by our commander to speak to your commander."

"General Arnold saw you coming," I said, "and sent me to meet you and hear what you have to say."

"General Arnold!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, General Arnold, the commander of our battery," I replied.

I mentioned General Arnold because of his great reputation then as a fighting general. And a fighting general he was, too; I will say it, traitor though he afterward proved to be.

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