Weary as I was I could not sleep. Something I was certain was going forward. More than once my ear caught the not very distant rattle of musketry and the roar of cannon, and I could not help fearing that the camp itself might be the object of attack, and that Mrs Tarleton and Madeline might be involved in the confusion which must ensue, and perhaps exposed to greater danger than any they had yet escaped. I considered how I could find means of being of service to them. Unhappily I did not know my way to Colonel Hallet’s quarters, and should the necessity I apprehended arrive, I was not likely to find anybody to guide me to them.
Douglas had gone out; I felt that I ought not to leave the tent till his return as I might very naturally, by wandering about, have thereby exposed myself to the suspicion of some sinister motive; so I lay still, eagerly listening that I might make a guess at the way things were going by the sounds which reached my ears. Now and then there was a roll of a drum—now a bugle sounded—then the distant report of a field-piece, and next, a whole volley of musketry. I sat up with my arm resting on my pillow, ready to spring to my feet at a moment’s notice. I felt very sad. I could not bear the thought of not seeing Madeline again; and even should I see her, I knew that I must be prepared to part from her for an indefinite period—for many long years perhaps. How changed might she and I be by that time!
“It will not do to indulge in these thoughts,” I exclaimed, passing the palm of my hand to my brow; “they will unman me, or make me turn traitor. Traitor! ay, that’s the word. I must throw no false gloss over it. Deserter—a wretch, false to his flag! No, no; she herself would despise me. These men now in arms around me have never sworn allegiance to their sovereign; they have been forced into rebellion by ill-treatment and injustice, by numberless insults. I should have no such excuse. If I unite myself to them it will be for my own gratification alone. No, no, I’ll not do it.”
I must confess that many such discussions as this I had in my own mind at this period, but I resisted the tempter in whatever form he came. The firing ceased; still I listened, expecting it to recommence. At length Douglas returned:—
“An affair of outpost!” he remarked carelessly. “You were disturbed by the firing. Howe’s army is somewhat near at hand. He wishes to draw us into the lower ground, but General Washington knows the strength of our position, and the advantage it gives us, too well to be tempted out of it. The enemy has retired; you may rest in quiet for the remainder of the night.”
By daylight all the camp was astir. Lieutenant Spinks soon made his appearance. He looked pale, but said that his wound did not hurt him, and that he should be able to accompany me if I was ready to commence our return journey. I had no excuse to offer to myself for delay, but every reason for getting back to my vessel. I however frankly told Captain Douglas that I wished to bid farewell to the ladies I had escorted to the camp. I have an idea that he suspected how matters stood.
“We will ride to Colonel Hallet’s quarters directly after breakfast,” he answered promptly. “By that time they may be ready to receive you.”
Spinks promised in the interval to get the horses and servants prepared for the journey.
A frugal and somewhat hurried meal over, I set out with Captain Douglas. A ride of upwards of a mile over exceedingly rugged ground brought us to a hamlet of log huts. I remarked on the way the inaccessible nature of the ground, and saw the wisdom of Washington in holding it. I made no remark in reference to this, but we talked freely on various topics not immediately connected with the war. My heart beat quick as my companion pointed out a long low hut, and remarked—
“There lies poor Hallet, and I fear that he will never leave the place alive.”