CHAPTER XXII—The Battle
It was a lively battle, indeed, for the British, being considerably stronger than the patriots, evidently thought they could defeat them, but the defenders were in a strategically good position. They sent back volley for volley, and had the advantage of the field-pieces, and so after a battle of about an hour and a half the redcoats retreated, carrying their dead and wounded with them.
The patriot loss was twelve killed and sixteen wounded, and they were pretty sure that the British had suffered a greater loss than this.
When the battle was over, it was found by the soldiers in Captain Morgan’s company that Tom Dare was missing. At first it was feared that he had been killed, but his body was not found, and when the captain made inquiries of the youth’s comrades, they said that they did not remember having seen him during the battle.
Ben Foster had not thought anything about this at the time, but now he remembered that Tom had not been by his side, and he could not think what had become of him.
Nor had Tim Murphy or Fritz Schmockenburg seen Tom, and they, like Ben, were uneasy regarding him.
There was only one possible solution, that Ben could think of, and that was, that Tom had slipped away and gone to the British encampment, in the hope that he might be able to rescue Dick, while the British were away.
The more Ben thought of this, the more certain he became that this was where Tom had gone, and he asked Captain Morgan to permit him to go to the British encampment and reconnoiter. He thought that if Tom had gone there, he might need assistance.
The captain consented that Ben should go, but urged due caution.
“I will exercise care, sir,” was the reply.
Then Ben took his departure, and made his way in the direction of the enemy’s camp. When he reached the vicinity of the old schoolhouse, where Herbert Miller had taught, he was surprised and attacked suddenly by about a dozen redcoats, who rushed out of the schoolhouse, and was made a prisoner.
He was ordered to enter the schoolhouse, where he found a number of British soldiers lying on blankets, many so severely wounded that it had been thought best to leave them there, fearing they could not be safely taken a further distance. The other soldiers, who had seized Ben, had been left there to take care of the wounded.
Ben was placed on a bench, his hands tied together behind his back, and one of the redcoats asked him who he was and where he was going.
“I live in this vicinity,” said Ben. “I was on my way to the settlement.”
The redcoat laughed sneeringly. “That will do to tell,” he said. “But I don’t believe you. You are a rebel and were on your way to spy on the British army.”
“You are wrong,” said Ben.
“I don’t think so. I guess I shall have to take you to General Arnold.”
Ben made no reply, and the redcoat, who wore a lieutenant’s uniform, summoned a couple of soldiers, ordering them to take the prisoner to the British encampment, and to General Arnold.
“And don’t let him escape on the way there,” was the caution. “I am inclined to think he is a rebel spy.”
“He won’t get away,” was the reply, and the two redcoats set out, with Ben walking between them.
At first they held to his arms, but when they had gone a little distance, they changed their positions, one walking in front and one behind Ben, and without holding to him.
Doubtless they thought that the prisoner would not think of trying to escape, with his hands bound. But Ben at once made up his mind to try to get away. He was an exceedingly swift runner, and he believed that even with his hands bound, he could outrun any redcoat, the majority of whom, in the lower ranks, were clumsy fellows. So watching till they came to a point where the ground sloped away, making it easy for speeding, Ben suddenly leaped backward against the soldier behind him, upsetting the fellow, who had not been expecting anything of this kind. Then Ben dashed away, down the slope at the top of his speed.
“After him!” yelled the redcoat who had been upset, as he scrambled hastily to his feet and drew a pistol. “Don’t let him escape.”
The other had heard his comrade give utterance to an exclamation as he went down, and had whirled just after Ben dashed away. Now he set out in pursuit, with the other redcoat eight or ten yards behind.
Down the slope Ben ran with great swiftness, when the fact is taken into consideration that his wrists were tied together behind his back, and he held his own against his pursuers. They were not able to gain on him.
On he ran, and when he had gone perhaps half a mile, he suddenly came to the edge of the high bank of a creek that probably emptied into the James River. It was at least thirty feet down to the water, and being unable to stop, Ben went over the edge of the bank. Down he shot, a distance of perhaps ten or twelve feet, where he struck on an outjutting ledge about four feet wide, and fell. Fortunately he rolled toward the face of the creek-bank, the ledge sloping downward, and kept on rolling till he was several feet inside a cave. And just then down came a great mass of earth and bushes, covering the ledge and choking up the entrance to the cave, shutting out the light and making it almost as dark as night within. Some heavy stones, with a great splash, fell into the water of the creek.
The redcoats had stopped before reaching the edge of the bank, and approaching cautiously to the point where the bank had caved off, looked down. They saw the great mass of earth extending from the ledge on down to the creek, and seeing nothing of Ben, one suggested that he had been buried under the miniature landslide, and was now smothered to death. But this idea was scouted as unlikely, rather it was thought that the runaway had fallen into the water and was drowned. They discussed the matter a few moments, the sound of their voices coming to Ben’s hearing in faint murmurs, and then they turned and made their way back toward the schoolhouse, with the intention, doubtless, of reporting to the lieutenant.
Ben had kept quiet while the redcoats were talking about the affair, his thought being that he did not want to be recaptured, but when they had gone, he realized that he was imprisoned in a cave, with his hands bound, was practically helpless, and would likely have to remain there a prisoner and die of starvation and thirst. He shuddered, and a cold perspiration broke out over his body.
He wished, now, that he had called out to the redcoats. He would have been again made a prisoner, true, but he would have had the hope of getting away later on, while as the matter stood now, he did not see that he had any chance whatever to escape with his life.
Imprisoned in a cave, the entrance to which was covered several inches thick with earth, and with his arms bound, how could he hope to make his escape? A feeling of despair took hold of him.