Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman

"And who, General Gates, may be that soldierly and magnificent looking colonel?" enquired a British officer.

"It is Colonel Morgan of the Virginia Riflemen," answered Gates, with as gracious an air as he could command.

"What, is that the famous Colonel Morgan! Pardon me, but I must shake hands with him," and he rose from the table, and followed Morgan, several of the other British officers doing likewise, thus compelling General Gates to recall and introduce him.

"Sir," said General Burgoyne, "you command the finest regiment in the world."

Colonel Morgan proudly repeated this to his men, and each man of the regiment treasured it in his memory to the end of his life, as being the highest compliment troops could receive, for it came, unsolicited, from a gallant enemy.

A few days afterward we rejoined the main army at Whitemarsh, Morgan's command taking part in the battle of Chestnut Hill. It was there I got my first and only wound during the Revolution, and was for a second time taken prisoner. I was leading my men in a headlong charge upon the enemy's works, when a small body of British cavalry dashed suddenly upon us from an unexpected direction, and threatened to cut us off from the main body of our troops; I gave the order to retreat at double quick, and remembered no more, till I found myself a prisoner with a bullet in my left thigh.

The next day I was taken to a prison hospital in Philadelphia, and laid on a straw pallet in a row of other groaning, tossing, half delirious unfortunates. For some days – I lost count of time – I lived in a troubled dream, with but one definite need, one clearly defined longing, and that for water. Oh, for a fountain of cool sweet water, that I might drink and drink, then rest and drink again! That which some one brought me from time to time was muddy and flat, but I drank it as if it had been the ambrosial cup of Jove, and in the confused visions which floated in and out of my mind, there was always a sparkling spring gushing out of a green hillside, and falling with a splashing sound into a pebble paved basin. Sometimes I seemed to lie flat upon my chest in the cool grass, and to plunge my head into the cool water. Again I saw the spring, as on that last night at home, silvered by the moon's rays, and Ellen standing on the rock above, wrapped in her white robe, her face mystical with strange thoughts. She smiled at me, and gave me to drink from a golden cup the sweetest water I had ever quaffed.

One of the first things to arouse me from my semi-stupor was the beseeching cry of a poor lad, who lay on the pallet next mine, for "water, water," – over and over again, in tones first petulant and insistent, then entreating and pitiful, then weary and despairing. The next time the bucket and dipper came around, I begged the man who distributed our dole to give my share to the lad, though my throat was like cast iron within, and my heavy tongue as slick as if coated with varnish. The boy fell asleep afterwards, and the brief quiet of his tossing limbs with the smile his dreams brought to his pale lips so rested my nerves, as to enable me to endure the hours which ensued before the next bucketful was distributed.

"This is Captain McElroy, I believe, sir," I heard a prison official say one day, standing over my pallet – I do not know whether it was morning or afternoon, or how many days after I had been brought to the hospital.

"Do we not provide better accommodations than this for wounded officers?" said another in lowered voice.

"We cannot make our own wounded comfortable, Captain," answered the first; "we must do as we can in this half savage country."

I opened my eyes now, and met those of a slim young man in British uniform, – "Can you tell me, sir," he asked, "where I may find Captain Donald McElroy, of Morgan's rifle company?"

"I'm Captain McElroy of the Virginia Riflemen, sir," and I sat up with a mighty effort, and managed to salute him with a trembling hand.

"You have not lost your pluck with your strength, I see, Captain McElroy," returning my salute; "I'm Captain Buford, a brother of the young woman you met at the home of Colonel Morgan, last April. Nelly saw your name in the list of wounded prisoners, several days ago, and has waited impatiently for my return to the city, that she might set me to searching for you. She tells me that you two entered into a friendly compact, pledging each other help and protection while the war lasts, whenever one is needed, and the other possible. It was your pleasure once, she bade me say, to extend courtesy to a Tory, it is hers now to show her appreciation of that courtesy, and also of the valor of a brave opponent, – the word enemy she charged me not to use."

The little blood left in my body all mounted to my face, and I knew not if it were weakness, or pleasure that made my brain reel so. "Will you convey to your sister my most grateful thanks, Captain Buford, and say to her for me that any obligation she may feel to my friends – for she can owe none to me, since she but honored me with her society – is doubly discharged by her gracious interest in my fate. If it is in my power to do so, I shall call to express my gratitude in person, as soon as I am strong enough. Will you be so good as to leave your address with me?" But I had used up all my will power, in this long speech, which had come faltering from my dry throat, and now I fell back on my pallet almost in a swoon of weakness.

"You need more practical assistance, if I mistake not, Captain McElroy, than a mere expression of interest. And our Cousin Abigail will never forgive us the neglect of a friend of her husband. If it is possible to get permission, and I think there will be no difficulty, we wish to take you to our house as a paroled prisoner. With a comfortable bed, and nourishing diet we shall have you well in no time."

"I am too unsightly an object to risk being seen by your mother and sister, Captain Buford – would it not be well to wait until I am strong enough to be shaven and dressed," I protested, weakly.

"You need only fresh garments, and a comb to be entirely presentable."

"Then I am in your hands."

When Captain Buford returned, he was accompanied by a physician and his own body servant, and had my parole in his hand. The last he showed me, while the physician administered a cordial hardly more stimulating, after which the negro valet made me as decent in appearance as my state permitted. Before they carried me to the ambulance in waiting, I stopped a moment, beside the lad's pallet to say good-by, and speak a cheering word to him. His fever had abated, now, but I feared he would die of exhaustion, aided by extreme dejection.

"Cheer up, comrade," I said; "my friends here have promised me they will have you paroled or exchanged, if you'll only set your mind to it, and get well."

"I'm glad for your good luck," he answered wearily, "but I don't expect to hear another friendly voice this side of Heaven."

"That is not soldier-like talk, lad – a patriot must learn to defy suffering, and mischance."

"Yes, I know, and I'm trying to learn to endure as a soldier should," but he shut his eyes, and the weak grasp of his fingers on mine relaxed.

"That's right, lad, keep up a brave heart; my friends will not forget you."

I could trust myself to say no more, and as I took a last look at the smooth, girlish face of the lad, I thought with a fresh heart pang, "How much do the horrors of war outweigh its glories!"

CHAPTER IX

The Buford mansion reached, I was at once assisted to my room, and put to bed, a special servant being assigned to attend upon me. A week later I was able to sit up each morning in a cushioned chair before my cheerful fire, and presently to walk about my room. I spent many of my waking hours listening to the voices which floated up to me from the lower floor, trying to distinguish Nelly's gay sweet tones among them. Now and then I recognized a light footfall, as she flitted past my door, and hoped vainly that she would stop to speak to me. At last I grew desperate, demanded paper and quill of my man, Hector, and wrote this in scrawling characters:

"Am I never to have the honor and privilege of thanking my generous deliverer? The weight of my gratitude oppresses me; will you not add another deed of gracious kindness to my debt, and give me the opportunity to ease my soul by expressing a part of the thankfulness and devotion which fill it to overflowing? Only let me see you, and I shall be, for as long as it pleases you, sweet Nelly.

"Your most willing captive,

"Donald McElroy."

Then I sealed, and addressed the note, and bade Hector take it to his young mistress. He came back in a few moments with the message that "Miss Nelly would see me in half an hour." The interim was spent by me in making as careful a toilet as any young girl robing for her first ball. I had had Captain Buford purchase for me two suits of citizens' clothes of latest cut and pattern, and I flattered myself that the plum colored breeches and coat, the sprigged velvet waistcoat, black silk stockings, and silver buckles set off my heroic proportions to some advantage. I had been daily clean shaven since I had been strong enough to stand it, and my "curling chestnut locks," had grown long enough to admit of their being gathered into a respectable resemblance to a queue, which I tied with a black satin ribbon.

Just as I had satisfied myself that I was not ill to look at, a liveried footman came to my door to say that Miss Buford awaited me in the second floor reception room, and that I was to follow him thither. I found her standing by the window, a plume covered brown felt scoop hiding all her blonde head, except the airy curls upon her forehead, and about her throat a dark fur tippet, from which her fair face rose, like a flower set in rich leaves.

"I'm just going out, Captain McElroy," she said, after she had given me a gracious greeting, "but I could not resist your gallant appeal, nor go until I had relieved you of your heavy burden – though I'm sorry, sir, you should feel it as a burden, the small service it has been our pleasure to render you."

"I feel not your kindness as a burden, Miss Nelly, it has been accepted as freely as bestowed – 'twas the longing to see and to thank you that I could endure no longer. I have now no further cause for unrest, save this threat of yours to leave me, before I have had time to clothe my gratitude in adequate words."

"Will't say you're glad I'm a Tory – and that even a Tory may be honest and a Christian? If you will, I shall call it fair quittance of all you owe me," and she laughed the rippling saucy laugh that had been ringing through my dreams for months.

"That a Tory may be honest and a Christian, I admit most freely, – but that I am glad you are one is more than I can say, with aught of truth. I would have you all on my side if I could; still more, I would have no one with half so good a claim to you as I."

"But 'tis the other way, Sir Patriot – no one else has so good a claim to you as have I; since you are my paroled prisoner. Do they treat you well, poor captive?"

"As an honored guest, fair jailer; there's but one thing lacking to my comfort."

"And what may that be? It shall be supplied."

"A daily interview, and a long one, with my jailer."

"You have been very slow, sir, to signify a wish to see her. Two weeks ago to-day it has been since you came, and this is the first intimation I have had that my presence would be welcome."

"And daily I have hoped you would stop at my threshold to ask of my improvement – you could not fail to know that I have been pining for one look at your bright face."

"Young women must not take things for granted, sir; you, however, are not like the British officers and the city macaronis, you are both honest and modest, and if you have not made great haste to be gallant, I feel sure you are sincere. But I must say good-by for the present, a skating party waits for me, down stairs."

"When may I hope to see you again?"

"To-morrow, if you wish."

"At what hour, that I may count the minutes!"

"Eleven o'clock, shall we say? If I might read to you an hour each morning, would that help you to pass less irksomely the tedious days of your captivity?"

She called this back to me over her shoulder, her saucy face fairer for its frame of soft plumes and rich fur.

"'Twould make me rejoice in the midst of my misfortunes, most merciful jailer," I answered, striking an attitude with my hand upon my heart.

The hours crawled by like a slow procession of half torpid serpents till I fell asleep, and the next morning passed in eager expectancy.

"Which of these shall I read from?" began Miss Nelly, entering the small reception room with her arms full of books.

"I have chosen a variety, one of which will, I hope, suit both your taste and your mood. Here is Ossian, if your literary appetite calls for the mystic and lyric; or Pope if it demands the caustic and humorous; or Lady Mary Montague if you have a weakness for gossip; or Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet,' Ben Jonson's 'Mourning Bride,' should your mood be tragic; or 'Evelina,' the most popular of the new novels, if you have a fancy for fiction. Which shall it be this morning?"

"First, a few extracts from Ossian, then, a bit of Lady Mary, and lastly, a chapter from the new novel," I answered with shameless greed.

But we did not get to the novel that morning, for the reading of Ossian ended in an animated discussion of the claims of McPherson that his poems were a genuine translation from the old Gaelic. I strongly maintained, that the true spirit of the ancient Gaelic people was in these poems, and that it would be well nigh impossible for a modern to conceive or to reproduce the feelings and sentiments of these primitive bards with such absolute truth of conception. Miss Nelly, however, held stoutly to the views of the critics, as became her conservative habit of mind.

Then came a few extracts from "Lady Mary" after which she seemed weary, so that I picked up her volume of plays and read from it some of my favorite quotations.

"Why, Captain McElroy," she exclaimed, "you read well. After this you shall read to me, sir, while I finish hemstitching my ruffles."

"I have a favor to ask of you, Captain McElroy," said Miss Nelly one morning when my hour of bliss was about to end. "I want you to take a part in the play we are rehearsing, – 'tis the latest comedy written by the late great London playwright, Sheridan, and you could do the part of Sir Peter Teazle to perfection."

"But I have never so much as seen a play, Miss Nelly," I answered in consternation.

"Never mind that, you will be sure to say your lines with true expression, and the rest I can teach you. Do consent, Sir Patriot, I have told the girls and the British officers about you, and they all desire greatly to meet you; even the belle and beauty, Miss Margaret Shippen, said last evening to me, 'I hear, Miss Nelly, you have captured a rebel captain, and hold him imprisoned in your castle – are not we to have the pleasure of meeting him? 'Tis said he is a Goliath for size; a David for skill, though with rifle instead of sling; and an Absalom for beauty of person.' Now, Sir, can you resist a compliment like that from the fairest Tory maiden in Philadelphia; will you not come in the drawing room this evening, and be introduced to her?"

"And meet British officers, who might resent my impertinence!"

"All who come to this house are gentlemen, sir – nor would they show the least disrespect to a friend of mine."

"I am not fit for polite society, Miss Nelly, and I wish not to play the part of Samson – to make sport for my enemies."

"The suggestion is insulting, Captain McElroy, and I urge you no more," and Miss Nelly left the room, her head poised haughtily. Next morning she did not join me in the library at the usual time, and after an hour's waiting I sent to beg her presence.

"I apologize with deep humility of soul for my rudeness of yesterday," I said, as soon as she came in. "I'll meet your friends gladly, and try the part of Sir Peter if 'twill gratify you. Do not I owe my life to you, and have you not made my very captivity a time of delight? Will you not forgive me, since the speech was prompted by the stupidity of a blunt soldier, and not by any doubt of you or your friends?"

"Only upon condition that you stop abusing yourself, will I forgive you, sir, and moreover that you speak before these British, and Tory friends of mine with the same bold spirit of independence you have ever used to me. I like you for it, though, at times, it nettles me."

"You need have no fear of that," I laughed, "but I shall endeavor so to act that you may not blush for having honored me with the name of friend."

"You know well that I shall be proud of you, Captain McElroy, there's not so handsome a man in the British army. I would give a great deal to see you in a British captain's uniform, that I might show them such men as this land, which they sometimes flaunt and laugh at, produces. Though a Tory, Captain McElroy, I love America, and Americans, and allow no one to slur either at our country, or our people."

O wily, bewitching Nelly; how was it possible to resist you. And yet I cannot believe that you were from the first playing a part, nor that you coldly schemed to entrap me. You were my true friend when much I needed one, and if afterward you became a snare, it was greatly my own fault.

That evening I donned my best, having sent Hector out to purchase a white silk vest embroidered with pink rosebuds, and a white silk, lace trimmed stock, that I might be behind none of the macaronis, nor give the foppish British officers cause to scoff at my provincial appearance. A man of gentle blood and sound principles needs scant time for acquiring society polish, and by saying little, and watching and listening closely, I soon learned the approved ways of doing the little things. They thought me shy, and kindly left me a good deal to myself, at first. Miss Shippen – a stately, beautiful, and most gracious mannered maiden – called me to her side the second evening, and entered into a conversation in regard to the comedy. "Like you the part of Sir Peter?" she asked.

"Rather better than any of the others, I think."

"Then I infer you do not find the other characters to your liking?" and she smiled, and glanced sideways at the officer who sat on her other hand.

"The comedy is doubtless a fine satire upon certain gay London circles," I replied, "but there are but two characters one can like. Maria, and Sir Peter, and both are shamefully cozened. I must except too the old uncle, he is quite likable."

"And you like not that fascinating rake, Charles Surface, nor delicious Lady Teazle, with her boisterous snobbery, and her irrepressible good nature? Are you of Quaker faith, Captain McElroy?"

"No, Miss Shippen, I'm a Scotch Irish Presbyterian."

"Then we shall shock you, I fear."

"But whatever may be your religious views, sir, you wish surely to know something of life?" put in the British officer, a well made blonde man with straight nose, and large mouth. "Would you take advantage of your present opportunities, you shall learn things you have not dreamed of in your mountain wilds."

"Adventure has ever appealed to me, sir, and lately my life has been o'er tame," I answered, determined to be no milksop among these British. "So you do not ask me to go a backbiting with Sir Benjamin, and the rest, there's little you can offer me, promising excitement, that you will not find me ready for."

"Glad am I to hear it, Mr. McElroy —

"Captain McElroy, an' you please; having won my humble title by hard service, and not by court favor, I am very proud of it, sir."

"Beg your pardon," somewhat haughtily; "I was about to say I like not a soldier, Captain McElroy, who cants and prays between battles, as did the hypocritical Cromwellians. A gay life in barracks is proper reward for arduous work during a campaign; – to-morrow, an' you will, I shall call to take you to our quarters, where you may lunch with four as jolly good fellows as are to be found in the British army."

I had just assented to this invitation of Captain Wheaton's, when Miss Shippen introduced me to the latest comer, as Colonel Forbes; he was a small, wiry, swarthy man who had been making the round of the room, and now leaned over Miss Shippen's chair, whispering in her ear.

"One of Morgan's Riflemen, said you, Miss Margaret?" eyeing me with most evident curiosity, as I rose to return his salutation; "a famous leader, and brave troops; they did the work for us at Saratoga. To your colonel and his men belongs the glory of that victory, Captain McElroy – yet I hear it has been filched from you by that braggart Gates, and that Colonel Morgan has not even been accorded a promotion. This so-called Continental Congress knows naught of the art of warfare, nor can recognize the qualities of a true leader, or else it has its favorites whom it is determined to advance, regardless of merit."

Though all this was true, I burned inwardly to hear him say it; determined, however, to repress the rash words which rose to my lips, I set them firmly, folded my arms, and bowed in grave silence.

"Captain Morgan is devotedly loved by his men, I hear," put in Miss Shippen. "Is he very genial with them, Captain McElroy?"

"He treats them as sons, or as brothers; there's not one but would follow him cheerfully to certain death."

"But," said Miss Shippen, "I am much more interested in the comedy, than in any talk of war, or comparison of leaders, for Captain McElroy it is I who am to act Maria – do you not think I'll look and act the character to the life?"

"To perfection, and now I wish I were to play Charles Surface."

"Hear him, Nelly," called Miss Shippen to that young lady, crossing the room to the spinet, attended by half a dozen gallants. "He pretends to wish that he were going to be Charles Surface in our comedy, didst ever hear of such shameless deceit?"

"Or such base ingratitude, for I see he has already transferred his allegiance – but why should we be surprised by any fresh evidence of masculine perfidy – have we not long since learned that 'Men were deceivers ever'?" and Nelly's manner and tone showed that she would be no amateur upon the stage.

"And women were ever our innocent victims, I suppose. There's not a coquette among you!" jeered Captain Buford, who had just joined our circle, a brown haired Quakeress upon his arm, who was going to sing duets with Miss Nelly.

"We but use nature's weapons for our just defense, Captain Buford," answered Miss Shippen. "The more skillful and wary one's enemy, the more adroit one needs be. Women have learned to guard, to parry, and to thrust by long practice in the art of self-defense."

The lunch in Captain Wheaton's quarters the next day was not the last of the entertainments proffered me by my hospitable enemies, especially by Buford's and Wheaton's mess. Not only did I lunch with them, dine with them, and drink with them; I also diced and played with them, and was invited to join their riding parties. Once Wheaton, who seemed to have conceived a liking for me which I returned heartily, carelessly allowed me to inspect with him the city's fortifications, and to see how inadequate they were to resist attack from any strong, well equipped force. Afterwards this incident, which was purely accidental, and seemed of small importance as I thought at the time, counted heavily against me, and proved to be the small silent hinge on which turned the door opening to me the high road of my destiny. Far more important events have turned upon still smaller hinges.

The British soldiers were most of them fine soldiers, and genial comrades, and their treatment of me was all courtesy and kindness. Through an odd streak of luck attending me, for surely skill had nothing to do with my triumph, I won at nearly all the games of chance so prevalent among them. Quinze, Piquet, Hazard, and other games, besides all sorts of wild betting, were their chief diversions. They even bet at whist, a slow, deep thinking game, well worth the playing without a wager. Whatever the game, I won indifferently, and soon my depleted pockets jingled merrily with English gold pieces.

"The Scotchman's luck" became a proverb in the captain's messes. But in all the dissipation of that time I was watchful never to drink to excess. I am not fanatical against strong drinks, and to this day can find no harm in one's warming and cheering himself with a cup of good sack, or a finger of rum, but it has ever filled me with disgust to see a man's legs wabbling and tangling as he walked, and to hear maudlin words mixing themselves in unintelligible gibberish upon a thick and lolling tongue.