We pushed on for the remainder of the night, and did not even draw rein till morning dawned. It was wonderful how well the ladies endured the fatigue they were undergoing; not a complaint escaped either of them; indeed, Mrs Tarleton seemed rather to glory in the hardships she was undergoing.
Instead of striking at once into the country, we kept to the north, so as to make a circuit towards the spot where it was understood General Washington was then encamped. I tried to persuade Spinks to stop and rest, but on he would go, as long as his horse would carry him. Our steeds, however, at last began to knock up, and we were glad to discover a farm-house among the trees a couple of hundred yards from the road. The inmates received us cordially. Breakfast was instantly placed before us, and a room prepared where the ladies might lie down and seek that rest they so much required. The farmer put Spinks into an arm-chair, and scarcely had he finished his breakfast than he leant back and fell fast asleep. I felt much inclined to follow his example, but our host would not let me. He wanted to hear all about us, and, to do him justice, he was ready to impart an abundance of information in return. Unaccustomed to the sight of uniforms, it never occurred to him that I was a British officer, and from the far-from-pleasant way he spoke of my countrymen, I felt no inclination to enlighten him. What surprised me most was to hear of the disorganised state of Washington’s army—the want of food and clothing from which it was suffering, and the utter insufficiency of all the commissariat arrangements. The wonder was how, in such a condition, the American forces could withstand General Howe’s well-supplied, and well-disciplined troops.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” observed the farmer; “one has a just cause, and the other hasn’t—that’s the difference.”
I did not tell him that there were two sides to that opinion, and that some people might consider the royal cause the just one.
A three hours’ rest refreshed all our party as well as our horses, and we were once more in the saddle. No further incident of importance occurred till in the afternoon we came suddenly on an outlying picket of the patriot forces.
The main body of Washington’s army was at this time encamped at a place called White Marsh, about fourteen miles to the north of Philadelphia. We had approached it from the north-east. The officer in command of the picket came forward, and Mrs Tarleton explained who she was, and her object in visiting the camp.
“Can you give me any information respecting my brother, Colonel Hallet?” she asked with an anxious voice.
“Colonel Hallet is alive, madam, but he requires more rest than he obtains,” answered the officer with a grave look. “I see him often, but I cannot report favourably of him.”
I saw that more was implied than was said. While this conversation was going on, I brought my horse close up to that of Miss Carlyon. I could not but realise to myself that the moment of our parting had arrived. The thought sent a pang, such as I had never before felt, through my heart. Madeline herself looked grave and sad. Was it the account of her uncle’s state of health which made her so or was it—vain puppy that I felt myself—because we were about to part—perhaps for ever.
How distant the prospect appeared, with the numberless vicissitudes of a sailor’s life intervening, when we might hope to meet again! Could we venture to indulge that hope? Should we ever meet? Should I not rather be prepared to part for ever? I would not allow myself to be overcome by a thought so full of agony.