# Watch Fires

First published in Adventure, 15 September 1928
The lieutenant's statement revolved in his none too nimble mind.
Encouraged, he repeated his threat.
"I'd like to put a bullet in his back some o' these days."
"Tush, man, you're speaking of harsh things. Your courage isn't of that kind."
"No?" grumbled Jeffry, fiercely. "You wait an' see! I ain't a dog!"
Grand's face approached until Jeffry could see the thin line of mouth and the black, unfathomable wells of the eyes. The lieutenant seemed to be seeking something in his pocket and presently Jeffry felt the cold pressure of a coin in his fist.
"There's a half-johanne," said Grand, quietly. "Go back to your fire. If I were captain of the company I'd send you off on a leave of absence and you could stay home as long as you pleased."
He vanished in the dark, leaving Jeffry toiling over the statement. He rubbed the coin with his thumb until at last his body trembled with a mirthless laugh.
"Oh, ain't he clever 'un! If he was cap'n, I c'd go home on leave, huh? Well, there's more'n one way o' makin' him cap'n. Guess I understand him, all right."
Turning, he walked back to his fire, shot a crafty glance around the circle and nursed his hunger....
His guilty conscience startled him again when young Captain Colvin strode into the light with a pair of shoes. But he passed Jeffry without a glance, walking to the one man of the company whose feet were encased in sacking.
"Try these," said he briefly.
"Why, Cap'n," said the man, gratefully, "where'n tarnation d'you find 'em?"
Colvin did not reveal his source of supply. It would have embarrassed him to have said that he had sought them from a farmer's house behind the army and had paid for them out of his own pocket. But, as he walked slowly away, too tired and too disturbed to sleep, he experienced a gust of pride in the duty his company had accomplished that afternoon. Not in any sense a vain man, and often ashamed of his youth, he did not for a moment ascribe any measure of their conduct to his own presence. In fact, the longer he led these men the humbler he felt in being their leader, and the more solicitous was he of their welfare.
A wood detail, dragging fence rails up to the watch fires along the bank of the creek, roused him to a moment's speculation. Across that stream the very finest regiments of the British army commanded by the ablest of English generals slept on their muskets.
It seemed to Colvin that in all the course of desperate circumstances Washington's army had come to the most desperate. It had been maneuvered into a position from which there was, seemingly, no escape save by battle. And though Colvin loved his men and boasted their ability, he knew, with a sinking heart, that there were too few veterans amongst the hodge podge of militia brigades to withstand the redoubtable force in the town.
Wrapping his cloak around him, he swung back to where he had pitched his blankets on the slushy earth. It had turned cold in the last hour and threatened snow.
"Pray God," said ho fervently, "the general finds a way out."
He rolled himself in the blankets and fell into a condition that was not sleep—a kind of weary stupefaction in which he could hear all sounds and feel the increasing coldness as it crept through the blanket.
WHEN he was roused from this misery the blaze beside him had gone out and, save for the watch fires along the creek, all was dark. A hand was shaking him and a voice, which he recognized as that of a staff officer, spoke urgently, quietly.
"Roll out your men and get them in the column at once. We are moving. Not an unnecessary sound."
Colvin collected his equipment, stumbled over to his company and woke the men. There was a groping, uneasy movement all around them as the various outfits assembled. Everything was confusion. In the road the guns began to move by, wheels wrapped in sacking, horses hoofs muffled. Thus, with a dull thumping and bated epithets they passed through the infantry. The sentries at the creek challenged loudly and the wood details steadily piled fence rails on the watch fires—all as if to mask what took place behind them in the dark. Colvin formed his ranks and ran off the names of his men, one by one.
"Jeffry."
He called twice before a growling response came back. The man, from the sound of his voice, had strayed from the company.
"Stick to the ranks, Jeffry. If you straggle you will be summarily shot by the rear guard. Lieutenant Grand, you will keep the files closed up. No stretching out and absolute silence."
A company trudged past and slopped, not far off. The staff officer came up.
"Ready, Captain Colvin? Follow me."
They marched a hundred yards under the staff officer's guidance and halted in the rear of the column. Presently other troops closed up behind them. A mounted officer rode along the line, speaking anxiously.
"You will conduct yourselves with the utmost silence. It is the command of General Washington. Forward!"
The company moved forward eagerly, brought up against opposition and dropped to a crawl. Gradually the watch fires disappeared and they were engulfed in the woods. Feet slipped on the frozen ground; it had turned ten degrees colder within the hour. Colvin's men grumbled beneath their breath at the slow pace.
"Who's ahead of us?"
"Mercer's brigade."
"Wal, fer Gawd's sake tell 'im to get outen the way an' let summun march!"
Now and then as the column crept around bends of the rutty, forest road they caught sight of a solitary lantern beckoning. Jeffry, limping honestly, barked his shin bones against a stump and let out a stream of vituperation which echoed down the column and brought upon his head sharp reproof. Captain Colvin dropped back.
"Stop that loud talking!"
Jeffry bided his time until Colvin had returned up the column.
"Must think I'm a cussed dog!" he muttered, "Oh, I'll—"
A pressure fell on his arm. Lieutenant Grand's whispered words silenced him.
"Keep your sentiments to yourself, Jeffry."
The column slogged over the road, now striding to close up lost distance, now creeping inch by inch. They halted and suffered the cold in silence; they marched endlessly, seeming lost in the immense pit of darkness. For the most part it was a severely silent column as the night wore on, although here and there was whispered bewilderment which the older men took a delight in mocking.
"Where in God's name are we going? What road is this?"
"What you want to know fer, sonny? Twon't make any diffrence."
"We're crossing a bridge. See, we're swinging again, 'cause I c'n see the lantern."
"Anyhow, we're shore foolin' Mister Cornwallis."
The Army had needed no warning about being quiet the first few miles, so heavy hung the suspense over their heads. Would the British discover their ruse? The longer they traveled the more exultant was the triumph in their weary bodies. Once again they were outmaneuvering England's best.
Jeffry, marching always beside Lieutenant Grand nursed his temper to an incredible state of savagery.
"Oh, Gawd, ain't we goin' to ever stop an' rest? I'm half daid! I'll fix—"
Again there was a pressure on his arm and he retreated to his thoughts. The farther he advanced the more fixed did the determination become to put a bullet in that young whippersnapper if ever the chance presented itself.
Young Captain Colvin, marching beside the front files of the company, fell into a doze. He was conscious always of the steady slip of his feet on the road and of rubbing elbows with the man beside him. But at times his mind was an utter blank and he would be brought back by a sudden collision with the rank in front.
For a time he would remain awake, watching for the lantern ahead, peering at the shadows of the forest as they grew perceptibly grayer. Then the stupor of weariness would again overtake him. In one spell of wakefulness he calculated the time since he last had known six hours of full sleep. It had been better than ten days before.
He was aware that the column began to emerge from its nightlong obscurity. The morning light, filtering through the trees, first revealed the men as indistinct, toiling shapes, humped over, stumbling along the uneven earth. Then, as full light came he saw their faces pinched by cold, drugged by fatigue.
And yet, when the column's pace suddenly increased they found the power to stretch their legs and keep up. Colvin, glancing back, met the sullen, burning eyes of Jeffry. Grand, beside the shirker, had no desire to meet the young captain's face. The man was buried in his own hard thoughts.
THE column left the forest for a breathing spell, crossed a piece of meadow-land and took up its march in another, less heavy stand of trees. Colvin saw the brigades stretched out endlessly to the rear. A splendid figure in buff and blue, astride a sorrel galloped up the column and stopped at the head. Presently Mercer's brigade marched on down the road and vanished in the trees while the rest of the column, now headed by Hand's brigade, turned to the right and skirted the trees.
A staff officer rode beside Colvin, commenting on the division:
"We're only two miles from Princeton. Cornwallis left a brigade there under Colonel Mawhood which, if we're fortunate, we'll take. Mercer's going on over to the Princeton-Trenton road and knock down a stone bridge."
"Fair—" began Colvin.
He never finished that sentence. The column came to a halt as a sudden burst of firing echoed through the trees, coming from Mercer's brigade which but a moment before had set out for the Princeton-Trenton road. The rattle of musketry swelled to greater dimensions and a sustained shouting marked the beginning of a good sized fight. The figure in buff and blue whirled on his horse and sent a signal to Colonel Hand, then went speeding through the trees toward the scene of action, cloak flying. Hand galloped back to the column and brandished his sword. Colvin swung his company and led the brigade at a rapid pace into the woods. It was a good hundred yards out into open ground again and upon reaching it the troops paused to view a scene of disaster. Two regiments of British—Mawhood's brigade which had left Princeton that morning to join Cornwallis—were deploying from the road and swarming through an apple orchard, pushing Mercer's brigade in front. The first few volleys had been sanguinary enough, for the ground was littered with the dead and wounded; and as the British bayonets came closer the American troops, most of them green, gave ground and fled. The tide of battle bore them, pell mell hack towards the woods.
Hand launched his troops at the left flank of the British, without a moment's delay. Colvin, deploying his men, saw the splendid figure of Washington riding through Mercer's demoralized ranks, brandishing his sword and calling for them to turn and hold their ground. Midway between his own troops and those of the British he was in the zone of hottest fire with the smoke clouds curling around him. Colvin had a sudden constriction of his throat. Parched voices shouted warning.
There was no prelude to this fight. It came suddenly and waxed to an immediate crescendo. The Pennsylvanians flung themselves on Mawhood's left wing with all the fury at their command. The shock of that encounter rose to the skies and the smoke of musketry swirled like a thick fog, low on the ground. Colvin, racing ahead of his men, met a grenadier with bayonet outstretched. He thrust and parried and lunged until the sweat started from his head and his arm ached.
He beat the gun down and saw the man fall before him while his own saber point turned scarlet. On all sides of him men were at grips, metal banging metal and belated shots bursting here and there. He heard the swift passage of guns not far away and immediately thereafter their sullen booming. The battle seemed to gain strength, to focus around Hand's brigade.
A cry reached Colvin's ear. Turning, he saw Jeffry prone on the ground one hand fending off the menace of a British bayonet. He dashed back with a shout of warning. The English soldier, hearing that cry to his rear, deserted his fallen foe and swung in defense. The scene became the rallying point for both sides. Colvin beat the bayonet aside and stood astride the prostrate Jeffry.
"Come up, man!" he shouted. "Up and try again!"
He had a glimpse of Jeffry's face, dead white beneath the whiskers. A moment later the man had scrambled to his feet, behind the captain. The whirlpool of conflict widened and the Americans, feeling the victory at hand, charged onward. It was the turn of Mawhood's brigade to break ground and flee. Colvin went forward, rallying his men.
Behind, Jeffry was ramming home a charge, sweating profusely and stung to a desperate, defensive courage. His comrades were racing by on all sides and, bringing up his musket, he trailed along, one eye upon Captain Colvin's slim back.
Of a sudden he was aware of some one running beside him and turned to see Grand's face moving with anger.
"Shoot now, you fool!" muttered the lieutenant. "Do it now or I'll see to it you're everlastingly damned!"
With that warning the lieutenant went ahead.
Jeffry was not quick witted and events had moved so swiftly in the last thirty seconds that it left him swimming of mind. But, across all his numb perceptions flashed a streak of gratitude. He looked around him, saw no one free enough to watch him, dropped to his knees, look careful aim and fired. Lieutenant Jennifer Grand, twenty yards in advance, staggered, buckled at the knees and pitched forward, face down. Jeffry managed a dry, panicky gain and stumbled onward to catch up with his comrades. It seemed safer in the van of the battle than alone in the gory background.
AGAIN Washington, "the old fox," had wormed himself out of danger. The battle of Princeton had been his challenge to the laggard Cornwallis and, with that blow struck, he moved swiftly toward the mountainous country of Morris County. Late that afternoon Tench Colvin, on patrol duty with his company, saw Cornwallis marching his army in the valley below—marching back from Trenton toward New York. He dared not attack Washington's new position and so was retreating to a safer base.
Calling the roll of his company in his mind, Colvin made note, sadly, that the ranks were thinner by six. Among them were Jennifer Grand and the laggard Jeffry. He turned to one of the survivors.
"Bidwell, did you see anything of Jeffry?"
"Daid," said the man. "I seed him fall jest as the Britishers fired their last volley afore retreatin'."
THE END
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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