Washington stood silent for a moment. “I will send a message back to General Greene by you presently. In the meantime join my family, who are Supping, Major Williams.” Then, when the officer had left the room, the commander sat down at the table and rested his head on his hand, as if weary. “Such want of spirit and fortitude, such disaffection and treachery, show the game to be pretty well up,” he muttered to himself.
Brereton who had fallen back at the entrance of the aide, once more came to the table. “Your Excellency,” he said, “we are but losing the fair-weather men, who are really no help, and what is left will be tried troops and true.”
“Left to starve!”
“This is a region of plenty. But give me the word, and in one day I’ll have beef and corn enough to keep the army for a three months.”
“They refuse to sell for Continental money.”
“Then impress.”
“It must come to that, I fear. Yet it will make the farmers enemies to the cause.”
“No more than they are now, I wot,” sneered the aide. “And if you leave them their crops ’t will be but for them to sell to the British. ’T is a war necessity.”
Washington rose, the moment’s discouragement already conquered and his face set determinedly. “Give orders to Hazlett and Hand to despatch foraging parties at dawn, to seize all cattle, pigs, corn, wheat, or flour they may find, save enough for the necessities of the people, and to impress horses and wagons in which to transport them. Then join us at supper.”
Brereton saluted, and turned, but as he did so Washington again spoke:—