“And Hawkins is still able to plot,” mused Ben. “And that he is somewhere plotting and laying his snares is sure, for he is not the one to give up.” He paused for a little, staring straight before him, his mind in that curious state when it seems to have stopped working, retaining a single picture of a single thing. Then his thoughts began to flow again.
“And that conversation between Hawkins and Sugden at Claflin’s that night! I would that I had heard more of it. They seemed to expect something from the exchange of General Lee. What, I wonder? Can it be possible that——” but this led to thoughts that could not be entertained, and so he banished the matter from his mind.
A council of war held in the camp early in May had concluded that no blow was to be attempted against the British until some opportunity presented itself that would insure success. Then Howe was recalled and Sir Henry Clinton took command of the British army at Philadelphia; and not long after this signs were shown of an intention to evacuate the city.
New York was thought to be the point aimed at; Washington sent some brigades into the Jerseys to break bridges and otherwise harass Clinton, should this be the case, but the main body of his army remained in waiting to make sure of his enemy’s movements.
It was on the eighteenth of June that the British began their movement to a point below Philadelphia; from there they crossed the Delaware into New Jersey. Immediately upon hearing this, Washington broke up his camp at Valley Forge; sent Arnold, whose wounded leg did not permit his taking the field, with a strong force to occupy the city, and then pushed forward in pursuit of the enemy.
The Americans crossed the Delaware a little later, not far from the point where they had crossed to attack the Hessians a year and a half before. Clinton was so slow in his movements that Washington suspected him of desiring to get the American force into the level country, then, by a rapid march, gain the heights, and so take them at a disadvantage. Another council of war was held; General Lee was for holding aloof and merely annoying the enemy by detachments. As his military skill was highly regarded, he gained a majority of the officers to his way of thinking; and the command went forth that this style of warfare be begun. However, it was not at all in favor with the rank and file, and though they obeyed their officers readily enough, they were not at all backward in their criticisms.
“Are we a parcel of old women that we should be afraid to get near enough to the enemy to come to hand grasps with him?” asked a stalwart sergeant of artillery. “Ah, I wish, Molly,” to a red-haired, freckle-faced young woman, “that they had had you in the council instead of General Lee.”
“Why, then,” said Molly, whom Ben, who sat near by, at once recognized as the Molly Hayes he had seen perform so creditably at the Crossed Keys, “if I had it’s after old Clinton we’d a-been long ago. Sure it’s in the arms of our lads to give him and his redcoats a trouncing, so it is, and I’m for giving it to them while we have the chance.”
“Bravo, Molly Pitcher,” cried a soldier. “Good for you.”
“I’m obliged to you for agreeing with me,” said Molly, dropping the speaker a satirical courtesy. “But I’d thank you, soldier, not to call me out of my name, which is Molly Hayes, and not Molly Pitcher.”