I
THIS is a story of a boy and two other boys.
Tom Markham was fifteen and over, and was careful when asked his age to say he was in his sixteenth year. His brothers were two years younger. When Harry was asked how old he was he said he was as old as Bill, and when any one inquired his age of Bill he replied that he was as old as Harry. This was because being twins they got somehow mixed up when they were born, and no one knew which was ten minutes the older.
Between themselves the twins considered the matter of precedence based on age as important, and now and then endeavored to adjust matters by wager of battle. It was settled at last by the elder brother, Tom, who decided that they should be elder year about. Thus, in 1777 Bill was the older, and was sadly regarding the lapse into youth which was about to come in 1778, when Harry would be in turn the senior.
While Tom, who was to be sixteen in February, looked older, his brothers appeared younger than their years, and were two saucy, clever, reckless lads. A look of child-like innocence was part of the protective capital the twins invested in mischief. They fought one another, made common cause against the world, and had, as concerned Tom, a certain amount of respect founded on physical conditions. At the close of this year 1777, Sir William Howe held the city of Penn with some eighteen thousand men. Twenty miles away George Washington waited in his lines at Valley Forge with three or four thousand half-starved soldiers.
Between the two armies Nature had established a nearly neutral ground, for on it lay the deepest snow the land had known for many a year. It was both foe and friend to the Continental soldiers, whom starvation and cold were daily tempting to desertion, and among whom disease in many forms was busily recruiting for the army of the dead.
The well-fed British regulars in and near the city found in the snow an obstacle which forbade Sir William Howe to move, discouraged enterprise, and gave excuses for inertness, since no general at that time ventured to think of a winter campaign, until in ’78 the Virginia general read his enemy a novel lesson in the art of war.
The land between the city of Philadelphia and Valley Forge on both sides of the Schuylkill was in ’77 a fertile country of large farms to which narrow wood roads led from the main highways. On to this region of winter, scouting or foraging parties of both armies ventured at times, and from it in good weather the farmers, despite the efforts of our scant cavalry, took supplies to the snow-beleaguered city, and sometimes, if Tories, information of value.
In the best houses of the city there were quartered, to the disgust of the Whig dames, a great number of British officers. They were to be fed without charge and were unpleasant or not personally disagreeable, as chanced to be the case.
Mrs. Markham’s ample house on Third Street, near Spruce, had its share of boarders thus comfortably billeted, to the satisfaction of her Tory neighbors who were not thus burdened or who gladly entertained officers of distinction.
The owner of the house, Colonel Markham, of the Continental line, lay a prisoner in New York, when on Christmas Eve, in this year of 1777, Mrs. Markham and three unwelcome guests sat down to supper.
Tom, the elder son, stood at the window watching the big white snowflakes flitting across the black squares of the night-darkened panes.
“Come, my son,� said Mrs. Markham, and he took the vacant seat, his mind on the joys to which the weather was contributing in the way of coasting, skating, and snowball wars.
This terrible winter was one thing to Sir William Howe, another to George Washington, and a quite delightful other to Tom Markham. “I suppose, Tom,� said the mother, as he took his seat, “this sort of Christmas weather is much to your liking.�
“Why, any fellow would like it, mother.�
“There is everything in the point of view,� she returned, smiling. “I have no recollection of a winter like this.�
In truth, the weather was keeping Christmas with a bountiful gift of fresh snow to the earth which was already heavily burdened.
Within the house a cheerful wood-fire blazed on the hearth. Two branched silver candelabra lighted the table, and the furniture, portraits, and round mirrors all told of ease and luxury.
“I have to thank you for the turkey, Captain Verney,� said Mrs. Markham. “My supplies are running low and soon you will be no better fed than the Continentals.�
“Rebels, madam,� said Colonel Grimstone, a rough, red-faced soldier, who had risen from the ranks. “I think we shall have to be fed and well fed, too. I have asked five officers to dine here next week, on New Year’s Day.�
Tom looked straight at the fat Colonel and wished he were himself a man.
“By that time,� said Mrs. Markham, laughing, “you will have little besides pork and potatoes; Heaven knows what else.�
“Oh, you will find us enough. All you rebel ladies tell the same story. A bit tough, this mutton.�
For the first time she broke into angry reply. “Then, sir, it is like your manners—hard to digest.�
What with care and anxiety, she had come to the place where open wrath is the only escape from the shame of tears.
To her surprise the Colonel made no rejoinder. The younger officer at his side caught his eye as he was about to make some insolent reply.
Captain, the Honorable John Verney, to be some day in the peerage if spared by war, was a person whom the Colonel did not care to offend, and who, as Mrs. Markham spoke, said, “You had better get another billet, Grimstone. No doubt André would exchange with you.�
The Colonel growled but held his tongue, knowing very well that few officers were as well cared for as Mrs. Markham’s guests.
Verney, a gentleman of the best, smiled at her and nodded reassuringly. He meant, as often before, to set her at ease as to her difficulty in suiting the Colonel.
The third guest, a Hessian officer, Count Von Einstein, annoyed by the Colonel’s rudeness, turned the talk aside as he said, in fair English: “The letter you gave me for your husband in New York I was able to forward but I had first to go through the form of reading it: I think I did say so; else it could not have gone.�
“Of course,� returned Mrs. Markham, coloring. “Is there any chance of exchange of prisoners?�
“I fear not,� said Verney, “unless the Continentals should capture the Count or Colonel Grimstone.�
“There isn’t much chance of that, mother,� whispered Tom. “They like town too well.�
“Hush!� she said, but smiled at him affectionately. Amid the stress of war, the talk at table, and his mother’s anxiety, the lad had become thoughtful beyond his years. “What a terrible night!� said Mrs. Markham, as the wind roared around the house and the casements rattled. Her mind was on the camp at Valley Forge, whence came, from the Quaker farmers, now and then, tales of starvation, misery, and desertion very encouraging to Sir William Howe, who felt that there was small need to assist the weather in fighting his battles.
Some such thought was in the mind of the Colonel, for he remarked, “The rebels must be enjoying it.�
“There are two sides to that question,� replied Verney.
“How two, sir?� asked Grimstone.
“Oh, we cannot move,� said the Count. “Not even the great Frederick ever made a campaign in winter.�
“Who wants to move? I do not,� growled the Colonel.
“I would try it, if I were Sir William.�
“And how?� asked the Colonel.
“Well, this way,� said Verney.
He rose, and taking a sheet of paper from a desk near by sat down again and rapidly drew the course of the river Schuylkill. “This way. March five thousand men up each side of the river, cross on the ice from this side, and attack on both sides at once.�
The Count looked up. “That is just what Major Montresor is urging Sir William to do, and at once. He hesitates——�
“But the snow,� said the Colonel.
“He won’t try it,� returned Verney.
“No, thank Heaven,� said the Colonel, and the sketch was crumpled up and cast aside to fall on the floor under the table.
Supper was over, the table cleared, and the men sat talking together. At this time broke in the twins, beating off the snow and pounding with their cold feet on the floor.
“I have a sword,� and “I have a drum,� cried the twins.
“Goodness, you little rebels! I shall run,� laughed Verney.
“And I,� cried the Count.
“You are late, boys,� said Mrs. Markham.
“Aunt Mary kept us.�
“Did you put away the lantern?�
“No, mother,� said Bill.
“Why not? I told you to be careful of it. What mischief have you been up to? I shall be easier when the holidays are over and the schoolmaster is busy with his ferrule.�
The twins looked at each other and were silent.
“Come,� said Verney, “out with it, boys.�
“You’re the oldest, Harry,� said Bill.
“Out with it, Gemini,� said Verney.
Harry was silent, and it was Bill who replied.
“Well, Sambo—that’s Aunt Mary’s man, sir—he wouldn’t let us carry the lantern.�
Verney, the sympathetic lover of all their mischief, asked, “What then, Bill?�
“We kicked his shins and he dropped the lantern and it went out, and a soldier came along and he said we had no lantern and he must take Sambo to the Guardhouse.�
Verney, much amused, said: “You young rebels are always in mischief. The orders of Mr. Galloway are that every one after dark must carry a lantern.�
“Well, we wanted to carry it.�
“What did Sambo say?�
“He ran away when the soldier said he had no light. Then we ran, too, like everything.�
“And was that all?� The twins hesitated. “Oh, don’t be afraid,� cried Verney. “What next?�
“We hurrahed for Washington and snowballed him.�
“What, Washington?�
“No, sir, the soldier; and he ran after us and we ran down Willings Alley and got over the wall and then over our own wall, and that soldier-man he is asking questions of Mr. Willing’s cook.�
Tom grinned approval, the Count looked serious, and Verney laughed while the Colonel said, “I have a mind to spank both of you.�
Mrs. Markham turned on him. “I can attend to those ceremonies myself, sir�—a fact of which the twins were well aware.
The Colonel made no reply, but Verney said: “In the interest of patriotism, madam, you cannot possibly court-martial them.�
“And it is Christmas Eve, mother,� said Tom.
“Well, it is largely your fault, Mr. Verney. You spoil them too much.�
“I shall reform, madam. We shall reform, Gemini.�
“To bed with you, lads,� she said.
“Couldn’t we sit up a little?� said Verney.
“Please, madam,� urged the Count.
“Then half an hour. Come to the fire. Lie down on the rug, boys. Why, your hands are half frozen.� The Count and Verney drew to the hearth and the Colonel sat at the table. He was quite outside of the group around the fire.
“You have been so good,� said Verney, “that I shall have some little presents for you to-morrow.� The twins wished to hear of them. “No,� he said, “you must wait.� But in the morning he and the Colonel had to go out to inspect the works Major Montresor had thrown up at Chestnut Hill. They would use their own horses and Mrs. Markham’s sleigh, and would their mother let the boys go?
“They are so good,� said Verney.
“Oh, do, mother!� cried the twins.
The Colonel at the table growled that children were in the way, nuisances; but Verney took his assent for granted, and somewhat reluctantly the mother yielded, her friend Verney promising to take care of them.
Tom liked very well this chance to see the soldiers, but showed the growing boy’s usual appearance of being unenthusiastic. Moreover, he hated the Colonel as much as he liked Verney.
Assured of the frolic, the twins frankly opened the question of Christmas presents with their friendly German guest, Mrs. Markham protesting in vain.
The Count laughed. “Guter himmel, children. I have no presents. Ask the Colonel; he might dream you each a pony.� The Colonel by this time was sound asleep.
“It’s no use,� said Harry.
“Not even if he was awake,� said Bill. “If you haven’t got any presents, tell us a story.�
This he had done many times, liking the lads. Now at this Christmas season he was thinking of his distant home and his wife and children, away in the Fatherland.
“Come, come, Count,� said Verney; “I like stories.�
The Count sat still, reflecting.
“He’s getting ready,� said Harry.
“It will be a Christmas story, boys.�
“By all means,� said Verney, seeing as he spoke the old Devonshire hall—his home, the holly and the mistletoe, and hearing the merriment that seemed to sail to him on fairy ships over three thousand miles of sea. They would drink his health this night.
He was recalled to a sense of his alien surroundings as the Count said: “This is a story, boys, my father used to tell when I was a little fellow, but it was never told except on Christmas Eve when we sat in the great hall of my own home.�
“What made you come away to fight us?� This was Bill’s contribution. Harry punched him to emphasize his wish that there should be no interruptions.
Mrs. Markham did not, as usual, reprove the twin whose ingenious capacity to unite impertinence and curiosity was in great need of check. She merely looked up at the Hessian gentleman, who gravely made reply to Bill: “I am a soldier and go where I am ordered, even though it take me to death.�
The twins discussed this later, but Tom was old enough to note the suddenly serious look of the officer as Mrs. Markham, who knew his history, said: “Be quiet, boys. I want to hear the story, even if you do not.�
“But we do,� cried the twins.
“When I tell this story I think of the great hall of the castle, with no light but what the big logs gave, and how it flashed red on the armor and on the lances and swords on the walls.�
“Why must there be no lights?� asked Harry.
“Because we think in Hesse that at midnight when the blessed day is just born the Christ comes to the door and blesses the home. As He is the light of the world there must be no other light but the fire for warmth, like the comforting of His love for all, all of us. But now I must not be interrupted.�
“If Bill does it again,� said the other twin, “I will——�
“Just you try,� returned Bill.
“I shall thrash you both,� said Tom.
“You can’t!�
On this the mother said they should all three go to bed if they spoke a word in the next half-hour. Upon this there was silence and only the occasional interchange of such warlike signals as are well known to boys.
The Count went on, the three lads now eagerly attentive, while Verney sat by giving at need a faint whistle to check or lower the fine snoring of the Colonel.
“Once upon a time in old days there was a King, and the time it was once upon was Christmas Eve. Then, as was the custom, Rathumus, the maker of stories for the King, came to him and said, ‘Come with me that under the stars I tell you the Christmas tale.’ The King went with him into the garden.
“‘This,’ said the teller of tales, ‘O King, is the night of all nights that brings to men wise counsel for their own birthdays, when kings who are merciful set free many who are in prison for debt.’
“‘But now in this kingdom on the birthday of the Christ, the King of Kings, a hundred couriers sit on their horses at the gate waiting for a message of pardon and release to all who are in prisons for wrong-doing or for having displeased my lord the King. This is the law of the land. But if the King in his wrath has one he will not set free, then none are released, and the couriers ride sad to the homes of those who bide in sorrow.’
“On this the maker of stories went away and the King stayed alone in the garden. It was very quiet and the stars watched him to see what would come, for now it was near to midnight, and over all the land many who knew of the custom stood at their doors longing to see the white-robed couriers arrive with news of pardon on that Christmas Day.
“Now there is always for every man some woman of whom he is afraid, and so it was with the King. It was not the Queen, because she was dead, but it was the King’s daughter, who wanted to marry a brave young Prince, and was angry because the King saw no way to prevent it except to keep him shut up in a high tower.
“The stars all felt sorry when the King cried out, ‘Never will I let him out—never!’
“Then a little wind sobbed through the trees and was still and the roses in the shadows prayed and the nightingales ceased to sing. There was a great quietness.
“The King sat down on a seat and was angry with the custom and with himself, and shut his eyes and thought, for now he must decide. If he would not set free the Prince there would be no Christmas prayers for him in all the wide land. But no, he would not free the Prince.
“Of a sudden he heard a voice say softly: ‘If, O King, you move you will surely die. Listen!’ Then he looked and saw in the darkness a dim figure with great white wings and was afraid, and as he listened he heard: ‘O King, around the throne of God a million courier angels are waiting in prayer. And at the noon of night the Christ will speak, and they will fly to set loose from chains of sin those who have this year offended a greater King than you. Hark, the clock strikes! They are on their way to open for you and many the prison doors of cruelty and wrong-doing.’
“Of a sudden the angel was gone and the nightingales sang again, while the King went to the gate and cried to the couriers, ‘Go, with my pardon.’
“Then in the palace the Princess said to her ladies: ‘Quick, take off my swan wings and never tell what I have done, or none of you shall ever be married.’
“Very soon came the King, and said, ‘I have seen an angel!’
“And so the Prince was set free and married that clever Princess and was ever after good and happy.�
“What a pretty tale!� said Mrs. Markham; “and now to bed, to bed, boys.�
“Thank you, sir,� said Tom.
Bill was silent.
“Then it wasn’t a real angel,� said Harry.
“Yes, it was,� laughed Verney. “It was a woman.�
On this Harry, who had the gift of imagination, got up and kissed his mother, who, comprehending him, smiled.
Just as they were going noisily to bed a servant came in and said an orderly was without. He gave a paper to Verney, who awakened the Colonel and gave him a letter.
The Colonel rubbed his eyes and looked at it. “I hoped they had forgotten. Here are our orders to inspect the lines to-morrow on Mount Airy and Chestnut Hill.�
“And here,� said Verney, “is Montresor’s map of the forts in and about the city. He promised me to send it as a guide to the outlying works.� The twins having gone, Tom lingered, unnoticed.
“Let me see that map,� said the Colonel. They spread it on the table and began to consider it.
“May I look?� asked Tom, as usual curious.
“Certainly,� said Verney. “I will explain it to you. See, here are bastions and these dots the cannon. Here is the tête du pont, a work to defend the upper ferry.�
“It is rather droll to me,� said Count Einstein. “Eighteen thousand men ought to be bastions enough.�
“Not for Sir William,� laughed Verney.
“It is Montresor’s own copy,� said Grimstone. “It is signed.�
“I should be pretty careful of it,� said the Count, a brave and well-trained soldier.
This readiness to explain the plans to Mrs. Markham and her interested boy seemed to him unwise. More than once full knowledge of contemplated army movements had in some mysterious way reached the snowbound enemy.
Mrs. Markham stood by looking over Tom’s shoulder, and presently said, “It is quite incomprehensible to me. Do you understand it, Tom?�
“I think so. See, mother, in one place he marks a weak point.�
“Have you, Mr. Verney, any such plans of the lines at Valley Forge?� she asked gaily.
“You had better inquire of Major Montresor,� said the Count, not fancying the too-free talk.
“To exchange plans would simplify matters,� said Mrs. Markham, from whom it is to be feared the twins inherited their capacity for mischief.
The Count, much the ablest of the three officers, looked up at her of a sudden grave. Tom, always on easy terms with Verney, went on eagerly asking intelligent questions.
“It is time, my son, you went to bed,� said the mother. “If George Washington, Count, could make no more of that tangle of lines than I, you might safely make him a Christmas gift of it.�
“Let him come and get it,� laughed Verney.
“They are pretty poor with their Continental rag money,� growled Grimstone, “but I suppose that map would easily fetch——�
“Fetch!� broke in the Count, still less relishing the talk. “It wouldn’t fetch five shillings.� There was an unusually sharp note in his voice. “Roll it up, Verney.�
He was the senior officer present, and Verney, at once recognizing the implied rebuke as something like an order, took the hint, saying, as he rolled the map, “I wanted to ask you if you thought——�
The Count put a hand on his shoulder with the slight pressure which gave force to his words as he said: “We will talk of it, sir, another time. Permit me to say that if I were you I should be careful of that map.� This was in an aside to Verney as the boy left them.
Among them they had set the adventurous mind of a fearless young rebel to thinking in a fashion of which they little dreamed.
“I shall be careful, sir,� and then with his gay manner and the self-confidence of youth, he added: “What with the Gemini and Tom and the Colonel, it ought to be safe enough. What time should we go to-morrow, Colonel?�
“Nine will be early enough.�
“Will you lend me your sable coat?� asked Verney of the Count.
“With pleasure.�
“I like best my sealskin,� said Grimstone. “It is not so heavy. Do you really mean to take the boys?�
“Of course I do. We want Tom to hold the horses while we tramp about, and the Gemini must have the frolic. I promised.�
Tom listened, well pleased. He paused on his way to bed, and while the officers were studying Major Montresor’s elaborate map, he pocketed the rough sketch of attack Verney had crumpled up and cast under the table.
The boy was by this time more than merely curious. Being intelligent and thoughtful, all this war talk interested him, and now for two years his father’s letters while in service and the constant discussion he heard had rendered familiar the movements of the two armies and the changing fortunes of the war. The great value of the map of Sir William’s chief engineer had been made plain to him, and his mother’s gay suggestion that it would be a nice Christmas gift to Washington set the lad to planning all manner of wild schemes as he lay abed. He finally gave it up in despair. How could a boy manage to steal a map from a man like Verney and then get to Valley Forge? It was no use to bother about it, and he went to sleep.