“We have already had rumours of it. And you did fight him and put him to rout? Who fell, and who was wounded? Can’t you talk faster?”
“Truly we did fight when we got the chance, though Lee—the foul fiends take him!—tried hard not to let us. It was the hottest day I ever felt. The sand and dust—”
“Never mind about the sand and dust; tell us of the battle.”
And so by piecemeal, with many a question and interruption, he told them the story of that remarkable battle and his own capture.
“And who was taken with you?”
“Master Peter Ruffin, Amos Andrews, and Richard Clevering from our company, and some threescore more whom I knew not.”
But only a few heard the last clause of his sentence, for among the women were relatives and friends of each of the men mentioned, and there were sobs and moans for the fate of their loved ones. So great was the abhorrence in which British prisons were held, that death seemed almost preferable. Then presently Betty Clevering cried shrilly:—
“And if you were captured, how comes it you are here?”
“I escaped.”
“And how many escaped with you?”