"She? Oh, she's the wife of one of the cannoneers. She's been in the army for a long time. She's from New Jersey, too, I understand, though her husband's home is in Pennsylvania."
"I didn't know there were women in the army."
"Oh yes, there have always been some. Why, even on that expedition of Arnold's to Quebec there were several women who marched all the way with their husbands, and they say they stood the long tramps and the cold better than a good many of the men did."
"Why did you call this woman 'Molly'? Is that her name?"
"Oh, in the army, or at least in this army, the women have been the ones to bring us water on the warm days, and so we call each one Molly 'Pitcher.' They've been kept busy during this hot spell, too. This woman's name I believe is really Molly, though,—Molly McCauley. Then you didn't expect to see women with their husbands in the army?" laughed the lieutenant, as he noticed that Tom was regarding Mistress McCauley curiously.
"No, I didn't. I don't think I like it."
"You'll find all sorts and kinds of people in the ranks. Some of the women have been worth more than the men. There was one up at Fort Clinton. She was very much such a looking woman as Captain Molly here, only she was a good deal more careless. They used to call her 'Dirty Kate,' because she wasn't always very neat in her personal appearance. But she was brave as a lion, and such a fighter! Why, she fired the last cannon at the British, as they came scrambling over the ramparts, which happened to be about the same time our men were leaving. Well, Kate's husband was a cannoneer, just as Molly's here is, and he was holding the match in his hand ready to fire the gun when he saw the redcoats coming, and the sight suddenly reminded him that he had some work to do outside the fort which demanded his immediate attention. Well, Kate just picked up the match her husband had dropped, touched off the cannon, and then scampered away after the men. She was a brave woman, and so is Captain Molly, here. She'd do as well as Kate did, if she had the chance, and perhaps she will before the end comes. I shouldn't want to have her fight me, I can tell you!"[2]
Tom turned and looked again at the woman. She stood talking with her husband now, and her strange garb served to intensify her peculiarities. Her great size and evident strength were plainly to be seen, but her face beamed with good nature, and her enjoyment of the life she was living was indicated by her every word and action.
Tom thought of Sarah, and the contrast between her gentleness and the rough appearance and masculine manners of Captain Molly aroused within him a feeling which was not altogether in favor of the soldier woman. It is true that the name of Sarah is unknown to-day, while that of Captain Molly Pitcher is recorded in all our school histories; but, after all, notoriety may not be the most valuable quality in life, and while the names of many men and women who lived quiet, faithful, honest lives may have been forgotten by their descendants, they may not have been of the less value to the world because of that fact. A good name is sometimes better than a notorious one, and an honest man, though he may be soon forgotten, may be greater than a dishonest man whose name is frequently mentioned. Few of us would desire to be like Benedict Arnold, although his name is a very familiar one to all.
"I don't see any use in staying here," said Tom at last. "It's wet inside the barn, and it can't be much worse outside. Why don't we start on?"