“I hope,” said Ensign Noel, “that we have as much chance in New York as you fellows about Boston have had. So far there has been little or no opportunity for anything but hard work. Of course the fortifications and the planting of batteries are necessary things; but there is little credit in the work save for engineer officers.”
“You’ll get your fill of fighting, Noel, before you are many months older, or I’m greatly mistaken,” spoke another of the party. “And you’ll not be sorry, either, that some effort was made in the way of fortifications. We may need every scrap of strength that we can muster.”
The defenses planned by Lee had been for the most part completed, some by himself, others by Lord Sterling and General Putnam; and the remainder began to rise like magic under the hand of Washington.
These were the days of great perplexities for the commander-in-chief. New York had now become the grand magazine of the colonies. He had few men to defend it against the weighty force that England was expected to send. Terms of enlistment were about expiring for a great part of the troops that had been brought from Boston; day by day the army was growing less, and yet call after call came to him for reinforcements for the desperately circumstanced force in Canada.
Some weeks after his assuming command of New York, Washington set out for Philadelphia to consult with Congress with regard to the passage of an act that would increase the army in a more permanent way; for he now realized that the transient enlistment of militia would never supply sufficient power to effect real progress against a disciplined enemy.
Meanwhile George Prentiss, who was attached to headquarters, had rather an idle time of it so far as regular service went. He did not waste his days, however; each afternoon he rode out and inspected the roads and outlying defenses; also he made pencil sketches of points which he fancied would be of value, and topographical maps of both Manhattan and Long Island for miles around. This sort of work came naturally to him; more than once his officers had complimented him upon his facility, and found its product of considerable value.
One evening toward the end of May he rode into the city with a bundle of sketches in his saddle-bag; he had been in the district about Kingsbridge, but had made his way back by the roads along the East River. Riding along Queen Street he had all but reached the junction of Crown when he espied a little party that crossed just ahead of him. There was something familiar about them, so touching his horse with the spur he turned into Crown Street after them.
There was a corpulent old gentleman upon a broad-backed Flemish mare; there was a spare old gentleman upon a rangy looking cob; and there was a girl upon a chestnut which champed its bit and seemed to disdain the ground. He had not gone more than a dozen yards into Crown Street before he recognized those ahead of him. They were Merchant Camp, his partner, Mr. Dana—and Peggy.
Before a wide fronted brick house, not more than a dozen yards east of William Street, the party halted. It was undoubtedly old Camp’s city residence, for at his call, a couple of stout serving men hastened out and assisted the three to dismount. The stout old merchant gallantly led Peggy up the steps, while Dana halted along behind them.
Somehow, after this, George found much to interest him in that part of the city. The flower gardens, just beginning to bloom, were full of attraction; the quaint old Dutch houses were rich in lore of times past; he found odd, loitering fellows who could and would talk of their neighbors; also craftsmen who were not in the least averse to an honest gossip while they plied their trades.