“Include Harriet in that too, my son,” he said. “This will be a sad place for her until after the manner of capitulation hath been arranged.”
“I shall not go, father,” interposed the maiden raising her head proudly. “An English girl hath no place among victorious foes. Send Peggy and you will, but I shall not leave you in your humiliation.”
“So be it,” he said.
Thus it came about that Peggy found herself outside the British works, advancing toward the American lines under a flag. Less than three hundred yards from the shattered works of the British the second parallel of the patriots extended, and in front of it were the batteries which had raked the town with such destructive fire. Midway of this distance they beheld the solitary figure of a man approaching, also bearing a flag. At sight of him Peggy forgot her escort, forgot everything, and ran forward uttering a cry of gladness.
“Father, father!” she screamed.
“My little lass!” David Owen clasped her in a close embrace. “I was coming in search of thee. I have been wild with anxiety concerning thee since I learned that thou wert in the town. It hath been a fearful time! Had not our cause been just I could not have borne it. There is much to tell and hear, lass. Let us seek a place more retired.”
The batteries of the patriots, the redoubts taken from the enemy, and the parallel, were connected by a covert way and angling works, all mantled by more than a hundred pieces of cannon and mortars. David Owen hurried his daughter past these quickly, for the girl paled at sight of the dreadful engines of war whose fearful thundering had wrought such havoc and destruction. Presently they found themselves somewhat apart from the movements of the army, and Peggy poured forth all her woes. There was indeed much to relate. She had not seen her father for three long years, and in his presence she felt as though there could no longer be trouble.
“And after they had been so kind of late,” concluded Peggy in speaking of their cousins, “they seemed just to-day as though they did not wish me with them. Even Harriet, who hath been clamorous for me to remain with her, seemed so.”
“Mind it not, lass,” said he consolingly. “’Tis because they did not wish a witness to their humiliation. After the first brunt of feeling hath worn away I make no doubt but that their manner will be better even than before. Ah! yonder is Captain Drayton. The boy hath been well-nigh crazed at thy peril. I will call him.”
The rest of the day and the next also flags passed and repassed between the lines, and on the afternoon of the latter commissioners met at the Moore House to draw up articles of capitulation. These were acceded to and signed. The British received the same terms which they had imposed upon the Americans at Charlestown. Nothing now remained but the observance of the formal surrender, which was set for the next day.