Valley Forge (31 page)

"Roderick Tillman is a member of my staff. Excellent man. Salt of the earth. An exemplary soldier. You and he should get on well together."

"Why am I to meet the captain?" asked Skoyles.

"He'll tell you when you get there. Here's the address."

Skoyles took the paper from him. "I'll call in the morning."

"Oh, I think that you should do that this evening."

"Any particular reason, sir?"

"Tillman will explain. Off you go, Captain."

It was a brusque dismissal though Skoyles thought he detected a ghost of a smile around Howe's lips. After bidding them farewell, he let himself out of the building and walked the three blocks to the address that he had been given. Still mystified, he rang the bell. When the door was opened, Skoyles could hear sounds of a party from somewhere deep inside the house. The servant spoke deferentially.

"Can I help you, sir?" he said.

"I was told to speak to a Captain Tillman."

"Then please come in."

The man stepped back so that Skoyles could enter the house. Someone came tripping along the passageway toward him and Skoyles understood why he had been sent there. The young woman who threw herself into his arms was Elizabeth Rainham.

George Washington had found no time for leisure on Christmas Day. He had spent most of it in a long and contentious meeting with his generals. Liberated from that, he had toured Valley Forge to inspect the camp and to offer his men the compliments of the season. It was not until evening that he was able to have a private conversation with Major John Clark. They were in the little stone house that served as the army headquarters.

"This place is far too small," said Washington, "especially since I've started the practice of inviting the field officers of the day here so that I can
become better acquainted with them. I'm having a dining room built in order that we can eat in a modicum of comfort."

Clark was skeptical. "Valley Forge and the idea of comfort do not sit easily with each other," he said. "Will they build in stone?"

"Timber. We'll be eating in a log cabin."

"Just like the men, sir."

"Not quite, major. They're confined to a diet of fire cake, and they'll remain so unless we can intercept another British foraging expedition."

"Captain Skoyles confirmed that it would take place in two days."

"Did he now? What did you make of him?"

Clark collected his thoughts before he replied. Seated in a wooden chair, he was close enough to the fire to feel its warmth against his legs. Candlelight was throwing an array of shifting patterns onto the walls. Washington sat opposite him.

"I was uncertain of him at first, sir," admitted Clark.

"So was I."

"He seems too good to be true. The person we most need is someone close to General Howe and one suddenly volunteers himself."

"We've had deserters from the British army before, Major."

"Granted," said Clark, "and they've been very welcome. Captain Skoyles is not exactly a deserter, however. He's acting as a spy within his own camp. It takes courage to do that."

"He has that in abundance," said Washington. "You only have to listen to him, talking about the campaigns in which he's been involved. He lives to fight and he's been taught how to do it effectively. He's also a natural leader."

"I had the same impression."

"The question is, do we trust him?"

"I'd
like
to," said Clark, "and nine-tenths of me is willing to do so. But there's a nagging doubt at the back of my mind. It's the reason I'm keeping him well away from Valley Forge for a while."

"How did he take that news?"

"Not well, General. He had hopes of dealing directly with you."

"Then he'll be disappointed. I have other fish to fry." He gave a dry laugh. "If only I did, Major! If only I was back on my plantation where I could shoot, hunt, fish, and eat everything that I caught." Washington sighed. "Will those days ever come back, I wonder?"

"Yes, General."

"I miss my family so much."

"And they'll be missing you—especially today."

"Martha will join me here in time, but not just now. We've too much to do at the moment. There are defenses to be strengthened and the cabins to be completed. Winter is knocking on our door."

"I take it that we'll be staying put, then?" said Clark.

"Yes, Major. That was the theme of the endless debates we had today. Should we forget about the war or try to stage a surprise attack on one of the British encampments outside Philadelphia? Thankfully," said Washington, "and after an eternity of bickering, they came round to the view that major hostilities should be well and truly suspended."

"Our men are simply not ready to fight."

"I know. Brandywine knocked the stuffing out of them. We need to nurture them a little, and train them properly in the art of war. We've still far too many lads with strong hearts but a weak knowledge of soldiering." Washington put another log on the fire. "Well, we've had one reprieve today," he continued. "The weather improved. Let's hope that the snow holds off a little longer."

"Yes, sir. It will make my job so much harder. I won't be able to reach Philadelphia if the roads are blocked."

"When are you returning to the city?"

"Tomorrow."

"So soon?" said Washington. "You're always on the move. You must not overdo the traveling, Major. It's starting to tell on your health."

"My health is an irrelevance," returned Clark. "I've too many things to do in Philadelphia to stay away. In the light of what we talked about a moment ago, one task is particularly important."

"What's that?"

"Keeping an eye on Captain Jamie Skoyles."

"When did you get here?" asked Skoyles breathlessly. "How ever did you travel? I thought you were still in New York City. Why didn't you tell me that you were coming? What happened to Major Wright and his wife?"

"They can manage perfectly well without me," said Elizabeth.

"I assumed that you'd spend Christmas with them."

"That's what I wanted you to assume, Jamie."

"Why?"

"So that I could surprise you."

Skoyles laughed and pulled her to him. "You certainly did that!"

They were in the front room of the house to which he had been sent, and Skoyles was still wondering if he were caught up in some sort of dream. All was soon explained. It transpired that Major Wright, with whom Elizabeth had been staying in New York City, had a close friend on General Howe's staff. When he wrote to the man and explained the situation, his friend, Captain Roderick Tillman, was delighted to help. He offered board and lodging to Elizabeth and promised to look after her as carefully as the major and his wife had done. Riding with an escort, it had taken Elizabeth almost three days to reach Philadelphia.

"And you intend to stay?" asked an excited Skoyles.

"Of course."

"This is more than I dared hope for, Elizabeth."

"I couldn't leave you all alone for Christmas."

"Thank you!"

He tightened his embrace and kissed her on the lips, trying to forget all the sorrow and loneliness of being apart from her. Overjoyed to see her again, Skoyles wanted to know if she had brought him news.

"Any word of Tom Caffrey and Polly?" he asked.

"None, I'm afraid."

"They would have reached New York City long before now."

"I wondered if they'd come on here, Jamie," she said.

"No. I made inquiries as soon as I arrived. They must have gone astray somewhere. Or been captured by those men who came after us."

"Don't even think that. We must never give up hope."

"You're right."

"We're together again," she said joyously. "Safe in the bosom of the British army, and nothing can touch us."

"No," he said with a fond smile.

"It's the start of a new life for me, Jamie."

"And for me."

"I want to put the old one firmly behind me. I want to get rid of all the silly
ideas that brought me to America. I'm yours now. Nobody else matters. I'll never see Major Harry Featherstone again."

The attack was swift and decisive. The garrote was slipped around the man's neck and pulled tight. Within a minute, he was dead. As his victim fell to the ground, the killer stole his musket, powder, and ammunition, then ran to the man's horse. Having made his escape at night, Major Harry Featherstone was soon riding away from Cambridge in the dark.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
he selected regiments left Valley Forge with severe misgivings. The march to the Brandywine Valley meant a return to a battlefield where they had been soundly defeated in September by a British force possessing numerical and tactical superiority. Over twelve hundred soldiers of the Continental Army and its supporting militias had given their lives or been badly wounded at Brandywine Creek. In the headlong retreat, many of the dead had to be left unburied. Just over three weeks later, even though they had matched the courage and tenacity of the redcoats, the rebels had been hounded from another battlefield near Germantown. It left them with unhappy memories.

"We seem to have been marching forever," grumbled Novus Kane.

"That's what we do in the infantry," said Jedediah Elliott. "We march, we rest, we march, we rest, we march, we fight."

"Then, as like as not, we run for our lives."

"No, we don't!"

"Well, that's what happened at Brandywine, Jed. And it was even worse at Germantown. I've never run so fast in my life.

"That was General Stephen's fault."

"He nearly got us all killed."

"And I was shooting so well that day," bragged Elliott, tapping his chest with his pipe. "I spilled a lot of redcoat blood at Germantown."

"The only thing I hit was one of our own men," Kane confessed mournfully. "When General Stephen pulled us out of the attack, he ordered us to support General Sullivan. Next thing we know, we bump into Mad Anthony's men coming from the other direction. We thought they were the enemy."

"Those blockheads thought
we
were the enemy as well," Elliott recalled
with scorn. "Two divisions of the same army, firing at each other! No wonder those pesky redcoats chased us from the field."

Kane was fearful. "And it will happen again, Jed. I feel it."

"Not while I'm around, it won't!"

The Brandywine Valley was a patchwork of rolling countryside and thick woodland. Since the valley was thirty-five miles long, the Continental Army had set out the previous day in order to reach the southern end of it in time. Caught in heavy rain, they had spent a cold, wet night bivouacking under trees. Like most of the rank and file, Kane and Elliott were chilled to the bone and tetchy on the following day. During a break in what seemed like an interminable march, they gobbled down their frugal rations. Kane was seated on a tree stump, but Elliott preferred to stay on his feet so that he could see what was happening all around them as he puffed on his clay pipe.

"Why did we have to come all this way?" Kane wailed.

"To get some decent food for our empty bellies."

"The redcoats won't hand it over without a fight."

"We'll take them by surprise," said the old man, "as we did last time. Never known a chicken so good as the one we sneaked off them before Christmas. We only had a tiny mouthful each, I know, but I could taste it for days."

"Anything is better than fire cake!"

All the time he had been speaking, Kane had been cleaning the Brown Bess musket that Jamie Skoyles had given to him. It was his most prized possession, and the way he nursed it was irritating Elliott.

"Leave the blessed thing alone!" he said harshly. "Ye fondle that damned musket as if it was a naked woman—not that ye'd know what to do with one of those! Put it down, Novus."

"Mr. Skoyles said I was to take care of it."

"He didn't mean that ye had to sleep with it in your hands."

"Treat your musket with respect, he told me, and it won't let you down." He held up the weapon proudly. "Since I've had this, I've begun to feel like a real soldier."

Elliott was contemptuous. "It's about time, too!"

Scouts came galloping back into camp to report a sighting of redcoats only a couple of miles away. They had been seen herding a large number of animals. Once that information was passed through the ranks, the men stopped complaining about their freezing bodies and their aching limbs. Getting quickly
into formation, they marched off with a spring in their step. The scouts had done well to locate the enemy so soon. The Brandywine Valley was all of fifteen miles wide, big enough for two armies to pass without even being aware of each other's presence.

Moving east, the Americans eventually took up their position on a wooded slope from which they could intercept the foraging party. Rough estimates put the number of redcoats at five hundred, only half of the size of the force about to ambush them. Hundreds of animals were being driven in the direction of Philadelphia. Long before they were seen, they could be heard. The sound of sheep, cattle, and hogs whetted the appetite of the men hiding in the trees.

"I can almost
smell
that pork!" said Elliott, smacking his lips.

"Do you think they'll have any geese or turkeys?" asked Kane.

"I don't care what they have, lad, as long as we can eat it."

"We have to capture the animals first, Jed."

"And we will. We haven't come all this way to go back hungry."

When the foraging party finally came into view, the Americans waited impatiently for the signal to attack. A sizable herd was moving forward, kept in check by outriders on the flanks and in the rear, and followed by the infantry. Evidently, the redcoats had had a successful visit to various farms in the valley. People who refused to sell to the rebels were more than ready to accept money from the British army. The foragers got closer and closer. It was time to relieve them of their stock.

The signal was at last given and a first volley was discharged. Novus Kane could not believe his luck when he knocked a rider from the saddle. He let out a yell of triumph and began to reload. A few of the redcoats had been shot dead, and many more wounded, but they did not quit the field. Instead, they guided the stampeding herd in a half circle, driving it in the direction from which the attack had come. Expecting to be able to round up the animals and take them back, the rebels saw the crazed beasts charging directly at them.