The Boys of Old Monmouth: A Story of Washington's Campaign in New Jersey in 1778

by Everett T. Tomlinson

"I hope they won't run," said Benzeor quietly. His air of confidence was confusing; but as yet Little Peter was not suspicious of his neighbor.

"They don't act as if they were going to," said the lad quickly, as the assembly of the men broke up and all began to rush about the deck.

"Come, my lad! come!" said the leader. "Lend a hand here! And you, too," he added to Benzeor; "bestir yourself."

Benzeor's face fell, but he was in no position to refuse to obey. Such defenses as the Washington possessed were rolled together behind the rail, and it was at once evident that the men were not planning to give up the ship without a struggle.

The long whaleboat was placed in readiness to receive them, in case flight became necessary, and then the men waited for the approach of the attacking party.

The boats came steadily on, keeping well together. Little Peter found himself sharing in the excitement, but as the outlines of the men became more distinct his fears increased. What could be done against so many, for it was now seen that there were more men in the barges than at first had been estimated. The boats were spread out in a semicircle, but they were all converging toward the Washington, and plainly would begin the attack together. There were more of those small cannon also than at first had been seen; and as the boats came nearer and nearer, it was discovered that a man was standing near each and ready to fire at the word of command.

The faces of the men on board the Washington were all pale now, and not a word had been spoken for several minutes. Each man was intent upon the movements of the men in the barges, and did not turn away from the sight before him. Benzeor was the sole exception, and Little Peter could not understand the meaning of the half exultant smile upon his face. For himself, he was too badly frightened to speak, and the evident fear manifested by his companions did not tend to allay his own.

The waters in the mouth of the river spread out almost as smooth as glass. The rays of the morning sun were reflected from the surface of the water and made it sparkle like silver. The occasional call of some seabird or the flight of the low flying gulls were all that broke in upon the silence, but no one heeded them. It was that slow moving but steadily approaching fleet of barges that held the attention of all.

Little Peter wondered why the command to shoot was not given, for the boats were all within range now. His own hands were trembling in his excitement, but he was eager to act. At one moment he longed to leap overboard and try to swim to the shore, and then again he would feel as if he must do something to check the approach of those men in the barges.

Not a word had yet been spoken, however. The oars of the approaching men could now be distinctly seen as they rose and fell together. Steadily on and on came the little fleet, and now could not be more than two hundred yards away. Why did not the men on board do something? He felt that the time for action had come, but all were standing silent and motionless, apparently fascinated by the sight before them. The smile on Benzeor's face was almost mocking, and Little Peter saw him look from the fleet to the men on board, almost as if he were exulting in their predicament. What could it all mean? Why was not something done? Surely the time for action had come, but still no one spoke.