JABEZ ROCKWELL’S POWDER-HORN[A]
By Ralph D. Paine
A story of the “Powder-horn rebellion� at Valley Forge, and of how gallant young Jabez Rockwell rallied a retreating regiment at the battle of Monmouth.
“POOH, you are not tall enough to carry a musket. Go with the drums, and tootle on that fife you blew at the Battle of Saratoga. Away with you, little Jabez, crying for a powder-horn, when grown men like me have not a pouch amongst them for a single charge of powder!�
A tall, gaunt Vermonter, whose uniform was a woolen bedcover draped to his knees, laughed loudly from the doorway of his log hut as he flung these taunts at the stripling soldier.
A little way down the snowy street of these rude cabins a group of ragged comrades was crowding at the heels of a man who hugged a leather apron to his chest with both arms. Jabez Rockwell was in hot haste to join the chase; nevertheless he halted to cry back at his critic:
“It’s a lie! I put my fife in my pocket at Saratoga, and I fought with a musket as long and ugly as yourself. And a redcoat shot me through the arm. If the camp butcher has powder-horns to give away, I deserve one more than those raw militia recruits, so wait until you are a veteran of the Connecticut line before you laugh at us old soldiers.�
The youngster stooped to tighten the clumsy wrappings of rags which served him for shoes, and hurried on after the little shouting mob which had followed the butcher down to the steep hillside of Valley Forge, where he stood at bay with his back to the cliff.
“There are thirty of you desperate villains,� puffed the fat fugitive, “and I have only ten horns, which have been saved from the choicest of all the cattle I’ve killed these two months gone. I would I had my maul and skinning-knife here to defend myself. Take me to headquarters, if there is no other way to end this riot. I want no pay for the horns. They are my gift to the troops, but, Heaven help me! who is to decide how to divide them amongst so many!�
“Stand him on his bald head, and loose the horns from the apron. As they fall, he who finds keeps!� roared one of the boisterous party.