“Then don’t try,” he replied, taking her little hand awkwardly. “Now don’t stand up, my girl. You’re like a ghost. Ain’t she, Mandy?”
“Yes,” responded his wife. “And what do you think, Henry? She was on one of the ships that started from New York with Sir Henry Clinton for Georgia. They intend making another attempt to take Charleston.”
The fisherman’s brow contracted in a frown. “So they air a-going to bring the war down here?” he remarked thoughtfully. “That’s bad news. Was there many ships?”
“Five of the line, and I don’t know how many transports with men, ordnance and horses,” answered Peggy.
“Mayhap they’re all foundered by that storm,” exclaimed the dame. “’Twould be a mercy if they was.”
“Mandy,” spoke her husband, in a warning tone.
“She’s a Whig, Henry Egan, and her father’s in the Continental army,” explained the good woman. “And what’s more, she’s a prisoner of war, too. Jest you tell him about it.”
And Peggy told again all her little story. When she spoke of the time spent in the camp of the main army, the fisherman became intensely interested.
“And so you know General Washington?” he remarked smiling. “How does he look? We all air mighty proud of him down here. You see he comes from this part of the country. Jest over here in Virginny. A next door neighbor, you might call him.”
And Peggy told all she could about General Washington, about such of his generals as she had met, the movements of the army, and everything connected with her stay in New York. Nor was this the last telling.