Elsie Yachting with the Raymonds

Martha Finley

Elsie Yachting with the Raymonds

PREFATORY NOTE

The Author, having received many letters from young and interested readers, has decided to acknowledge them in this way, because feeble health and much work for the publishers make it impossible to write a separate reply to each gratifying epistle.

She also desires to freely acknowledge indebtedness for much information regarding Revolutionary times and incidents, to Bancroft and Lossing; and for the routine at West Point, to an article in Harper's Magazine for July, 1887, entitled "Cadet Life at West Point," by Charles King, U. S. A.

M. F.

CHAPTER I

The train, which for some hours had been running very fast and too noisily to admit of much conversation, suddenly slackened its speed, and Lulu turned upon her father a bright, eager look, as though some request were trembling on her tongue.

"Well, daughter, what is it?" he asked, with an indulgent smile, before she had time to utter a word.

"Oh, Papa!" she began in a quick, excited way, and quite as if she expected her request would be granted, "I know we're going through New York State, and I've just been thinking how much I would like to see Saratoga, – especially the battle-field where the Americans gained that splendid victory over the British in the Revolutionary War."

"Ah! and would Max like it, too?" the Captain asked, with a smiling glance at his son, who, sitting directly in front of them, had turned to listen to their talk just as Lulu began her reply to their father's query.

"Yes, sir; yes, indeed!" Max answered eagerly, his face growing very bright. "And you, Papa, would you enjoy it, too?"

"I think I would," said the Captain, "though it would not be for the first time; but showing the places of interest to two such ardent young patriots will more than compensate for that. – And there have been changes since I was there last," he continued, musingly. "Mount McGregor, for instance, has become a spot of historic interest. We will visit it."

"Oh, yes! where dear General Grant died," said Lulu. "I would like to go there."

"So you shall," returned her father. "This is Friday; we shall reach Saratoga Saturday night, should no accident detain us, spend Sunday there resting, according to the commandment, then Monday and Tuesday in sight-seeing."

"How nice, Papa," Lulu said with satisfaction. "I only wish Mamma Vi and Gracie could be there with us."

"It would double our pleasure," he replied. "I think we must go again some time, when we can have them along."

"Oh, I am glad to hear you say that, Papa! for I am quite sure I shall enjoy going twice to so interesting a place," said Lulu.

"I, too," said Max. "I don't know of anything that would please me better."

"I am glad to hear it, and hope there will be no disappointment to either of you," their father said.

But the train was speeding on again, too fast and too noisily for comfortable conversation, and they relapsed into silence, the Captain returning to his newspaper, Max to a book which he seemed to find very interesting, while his sister amused herself with her own thoughts.

Lulu was feeling very happy; she had been having so pleasant a summer out in the West with Papa and Maxie, and was enjoying the homeward journey, – or rather the trip to the sea-shore, where the rest of the family were, and where they all expected to remain till the end of the season, – the prospect of seeing Saratoga and its historical surroundings, and other places of interest, – a view of which could be had from the boat as they passed down the Hudson; for she and Max had both expressed a preference for that mode of travel, and their father had kindly consented to let them have their wish. She thought herself a very fortunate little girl, and wished with all her heart that Gracie could be there with them and share in all their pleasures.

Dear Gracie! they had never been separated for so long a time before, and Lulu was in such haste for the meeting now that she could almost be willing to resign the pleasure of a visit to Saratoga that they might be together the sooner. But no, oh, no, it would never do to miss a visit there! It would defer their meeting only a day or two, and she should have all the more to tell; not to Gracie only, but to Evelyn Leland and Rosie Travilla. Ah, how enjoyable that would be! Oh, how full of pleasure life was now that Papa was with them all the time, and they had such a sweet home of their very own!

With that thought she turned toward him, giving him a look of ardent affection.

He was still reading, but glanced from his paper to her just in time to catch her loving look.

"My darling!" he said, bending down to speak close to her ear, and accompanying the words with a smile full of fatherly affection. "I fear you must be growing very weary with this long journey," he added, putting an arm about her and drawing her closer to him.

"Oh, no, not so very, Papa!" she answered brightly; "but I'll be ever so glad when we get to Saratoga. Don't you think it will be quite a rest to be out of the cars for a day or two?"

"Yes; and I trust you will find them less wearisome after your three days at Saratoga."

"What time shall we reach there, Papa?" asked Max.

"Not long before your bed-time, I understand," replied the Captain.

"Then we cannot see anything before Monday?"

"You will see something of the town in walking to church day after to-morrow."

"And we can start out bright and early on Monday to visit places of interest," added Lulu; "can't we, Papa?"

"Yes, if you will be careful to be ready in good season. We want to see all we can in the two days of our stay."

"And I don't believe we'll find Lu a hindrance, as some girls would be," said Max. "She's always prompt when anything is to be done."

"I think that is quite true, Max," their father remarked, looking from one to the other with a smile that was full of paternal love and pride; "and of you as well as of your sister."

"If we are, Papa, it is because you have trained us to punctuality and promptness," returned the lad, regarding his father with eyes full of admiring filial affection.

"And because you have heeded the lessons I have given you," added the Captain. "My dear children, when I see that you are doing so, it gives me a glad and thankful heart."

They reached Saratoga the next evening more than an hour earlier than they had expected; and as the moon was nearly full, they were, much to the delight of Max and Lulu, able to wander about the town for an hour or more after tea, enjoying the sight of the beautiful grounds and residences, and the crowds of people walking and driving along the streets, or sitting in the porches. They visited Congress Park also, drank from its springs, strolled through its porches out into the grounds, wandered along the walks, and at length entered the pavilion.

Here they sat and rested for awhile; then the Captain, consulting his watch, said to his children, "It is nine o'clock, my dears; time that tired travellers were seeking their nests."

He rose as he spoke, and taking Lulu's hand, led the way, Max close in the rear.

"Yes, Papa, I'm tired enough to be very willing to go to bed," said Lulu; "but I hope we can come here again on Monday."

"I think it altogether likely we shall be able to do so," he replied.

"If we are up early enough we might run down here for a drink of the water before breakfast on Monday," said Max. "Can't we, Papa?"

"Yes, all three of us," replied the Captain. "Let us see who will be ready first."

They passed a quiet, restful Sabbath, very much as it would have been spent at home; then, on Monday morning, all three were up and dressed in season for a visit to some of the nearer springs before breakfast.

They went to the Park together, took their drinks, returned after but a few minutes spent in the garden, breakfasted, and shortly after leaving the table were in a carriage on their way to Schuylerville.

They visited the battle-ground first, then the place of surrender, with its interesting monument.

"We will look at the outside first," the Captain said, as they drew near it. "It is called the finest of its kind, and stands upon the crowning height of Burgoyne's intrenched camp."

"I wonder how high it is," Max said inquiringly, as they stood at some distance from the base, he with his head thrown back, his eyes fixed upon the top of the shaft.

"It is said to be more than four hundred and fifty feet above the level of the river," replied his father.

"Oh, I wonder if we couldn't see the battle-field from the top!" exclaimed Lulu, excitedly. "I suppose they'll let us climb up there, won't they, Papa?"

"Yes, for a consideration," returned the Captain, smiling at her eager look; "but first let us finish our survey of the outside."

"What kind of stone is this, sir?" asked Max, pointing to the base.

"Light granite," replied his father. "And the shaft is of dark granite, rough hewn, as you will notice."

"And there are gables," remarked Lulu, – "great high ones."

"Yes; nearly forty feet high, and resting at their bases upon granite eagles with folded wings. Observe, too, the polished granite columns, with carved capitals, which all the cornices of doors and windows rest upon."

"And the niches over the doors," said Max, still gazing upward as they walked slowly around the shaft, "one empty I see, each of the others with a statue in it. Oh, they are the generals who commanded our troops in the battle!"

"Yes," said his father, "Generals Schuyler, Morgan, and Gates, – who by the way was hardly worthy of the honour, as he gave evidence of cowardice, remaining two miles away from the field of battle, all ready for a possible retreat, while Burgoyne was in the thickest of the fight. The fourth and empty one, do you not see, has the name of Arnold carved underneath it."

"Oh, yes, Arnold the traitor!" exclaimed Max. "How could he turn against his country? But, Papa, he did do good service in this battle and some of the earlier ones, and it's such a pity he turned traitor!"

"Yes, a very great pity!" assented the Captain, heaving an involuntary sigh. "While detesting his treachery, I have always felt that he has not received deserved credit for his great services in the earlier part of the war, – the expedition to Canada, and besides smaller engagements, the terrible battle of Valcour Island, Lake Champlain, in which he was defeated only by the great superiority of the enemy in numbers of both men and vessels. Though beaten, he brought away to Ticonderoga his remaining vessels and surviving troops. His obstinate resistance so discouraged the British general, Carleton, that he retired to Montreal for the winter, which made it possible for the Northern army to spare three thousand troops to help Washington in striking his great blows at Princeton and Trenton."

"And after all that, as I remember reading," said Max, "Congress treated Arnold shamefully, promoting other officers over his head who neither stood so high in rank nor had done half the service he had. I'm sure his anger at the injustice was very natural; yet he still fought bravely for his country, – didn't he, Papa?"

"Yes; and all that occurred some months before this battle of Saratoga, in which he did such service. Ah, if his career had ended there and then, what a patriot he would now be considered! It is almost certain that if he had been properly reinforced by Gates, he would have inflicted a crushing defeat upon Burgoyne at, or shortly after, the battle of Freeman's farm. But Gates was very jealous of Arnold, disliking him as a warm friend of General Schuyler, and the two had a fierce quarrel between that battle and the one of Saratoga, occasioned by Gates, prompted by his jealousy, taking some of Arnold's best troops from his command. Arnold then asked and received permission to return to Philadelphia; but the other officers, perceiving that another and decisive battle was about to be fought, persuaded Arnold to remain and share in it, as they had no confidence in Gates, who was, without doubt, a coward. He showed himself such by remaining in his tent while the battle was going on, though Burgoyne was, as I have said, in the thick of it. It was a great victory that crowned our arms on the 7th of October, 1777, and was due more to Arnold's efforts than to those of any other man, though Morgan also did a great deal to win it."

"Wasn't Arnold wounded in this battle, Papa?" asked Max.

"Yes, severely, in the leg which had been hurt at Quebec. It was just at the close of the battle. He was carried on a litter to Albany, where he remained, disabled, till the next spring. One must ever detest treason and a traitor; yet I think it quite possible – even probable – that if Arnold had always received fair and just treatment, he would never have attempted to betray his country as he afterward did. Now we will go inside, and see what we can find of interest there."

The Captain led the way as he spoke.

They lingered awhile in the lower room examining with great interest the tablets and historical pictures, sculptured in bronze, alto rilievo, which adorned its walls.

"Oh, Papa, see!" cried Lulu; "here is Mrs. Schuyler setting fire to a field of wheat to keep the British from getting it, I suppose."

"Yes," her father said; "these are Revolutionary scenes."

"Here is George III.," said Max, "consulting with his ministers how he shall subdue the Americans. Ha, ha! they did their best, but couldn't succeed. My countrymen of that day would be free."

"As Americans always will, I hope and believe," said Lulu. "I feel sure your countrywomen will anyhow."

At that her father, giving her a smile of mingled pleasure and amusement, said, "Now we will go up to the top of the shaft, and take a bird's-eye view of the surrounding country."

They climbed the winding stairway to its top, and from thence had a view of not only the battle-field, but of other historic spots also lying in all directions.

Max and Lulu were deeply interested, and had many questions to ask, which their father answered with unfailing patience.

But, indeed, ardent patriot that he was, he keenly enjoyed making his children fully acquainted with the history of their country, and there was much connected with the surrounding scenes which it was a pleasure to relate, or remind them of, as having happened there.

From the scenes of the fight and the surrender they drove on to the Marshall place, the Captain giving the order as they reseated themselves in the carriage.

"The Marshall place, Papa? What about it?" asked Max and Lulu in a breath.

"It is a house famous for its connection with the fighting in the neighbourhood of Saratoga," replied the Captain. "It was there the Baroness Riedesel took refuge with her children on the 10th of October, 1777, about two o'clock in the afternoon, going there with her three little girls, trying to get as far from the scene of conflict as she well could."

"Oh, yes, sir!" said Max. "I remember, now, that there was a Baron Riedesel in the British army, – a Hessian officer, in command of four thousand men; wasn't he, Papa?"

"Yes; and his wife seems to have been a lovely woman. She nursed poor General Frazer in his dying agonies. You may remember that he was killed by one of Morgan's men in the battle of Bemis Heights, or Saratoga, fought on the 7th, – or rather, I should say, he was mortally wounded and carried to the Taylor House, where the Baroness Riedesel had prepared a dinner for the officers, which was standing partly served upon the table. He lay there in great agony until the next morning, and then died."

"Oh, yes, Papa, I remember about him!" said Lulu; "and that he was buried the same evening in the Great Redoubt, which was a part of the British intrenchments on the hills near the river."

"Yes, the strongest part," said Max. "I remember reading of it, and that the Americans opened fire on the procession from the other side of the river, not understanding what it was; so that while the chaplain was reading the service at the grave, hostile shots were ploughing up the ground at his feet, and covering the party with dust."

"Oh, Papa, won't you take us to see his grave?" asked Lulu.

"Yes, daughter, if we have time."

"Here we are, sir. This is the Marshall place," announced the driver, reining in his horses in front of a modest-looking farm-house; "and here comes a lad that'll show you round, and tell you the whole story of what happened in and about here in the time of the Revolution."

The Captain quickly alighted, helped Lulu out, and Max sprang after them.

The lad had already opened the gate, and lifted his hat with a bow and smile. "Good-morning!" he said.

Captain Raymond returned the salutation, adding, "I would like very much to show my children those parts of your house here connected with Revolutionary memories, if – "

"Oh, yes, sir; yes!" returned the boy, pleasantly. "I'll take you in and about; it's quite the thing for visitors to Saratoga to come over here on that errand."

He led the way into the house as he spoke, the Captain, Max, and Lulu following.

They passed through a hall, and on into the parlour, without meeting any one.

"This," said the lad, "is the northeast room, where Surgeon Jones was killed by a cannon-ball; perhaps you may remember about it, sir. The doctors were at work on him, cutting off a wounded leg, when a ball came in at that northeast corner and took off his other leg in its way diagonally across the room. They gave up trying to save him, then, and left him to die in yon corner," pointing to it as he spoke.

"Poor fellow!" sighed Lulu. "I can't help feeling sorry for him, though he was an enemy to my country."

"No, Miss, it was a pity, and does make one feel sorry; for I suppose he really had no choice but to obey the orders of his king," returned the lad. "Well, the ball passed on, broke through the plank partition of the hall, and buried itself in the ground outside. They say eleven cannon-balls passed through the house in just a little while. For my part, I'd rather have been in a battle than keeping quiet here to be shot at."

"I certainly would," said the Captain.

"I, too," said Max. "I should say there was very little fun in standing such a fire with no chance to return it."

"Yes; and our people would never have fired on them if they had known they were women, children, and wounded men; but you see they – the Americans – saw people gathering here, and thought the British were making the place their headquarters. So they trained their artillery on it, and opened such a fire as presently sent everybody to the cellar. Will you walk down and look at that, sir?" addressing the Captain.

"If it is convenient," he returned, following with Max and Lulu as their young guide led the way.

"Quite, sir," he answered; then, as they entered the cellar, "There have been some changes in the hundred years and more that have passed since that terrible time," he said. "You see there is but one partition wall now; there were two then, but one has been torn down, and the floor cemented. Otherwise the cellars are just as they were at the time of the fight; only a good deal cleaner, I suspect," he added, with a smile, "for packed as they were with women, children, and wounded officers and soldiers, there must have been a good deal of filth about, as well as bad air."

"They certainly are beautifully clean, light, and sweet now, whatever they may have been on that October day of 1777," the Captain said, glancing admiringly at the rows of shining milk-pans showing a tempting display of thick yellow cream, and the great fruit-bins standing ready for the coming harvest.

"Yes, sir; to me it seems a rather inviting-looking place at present," returned the lad, glancing from side to side with a smile of satisfaction; "but I've sometimes pictured it to myself as it must have looked then, – crowded, you know, with frightened women and children, and wounded officers being constantly brought in for nursing, in agonies of pain, groaning, and perhaps screaming, begging for water, which could be got only from the river, a soldier's wife bringing a small quantity at a time."

"Yes, a woman could do that, of course," said Lulu; "for our soldiers would never fire on a woman, – certainly not for doing such a thing as that."

"No, of course not," exclaimed Max, in a scornful tone. "American men fire on a woman doing such a thing as that? I should say not!"

"No, indeed, I should hope not!" returned their young conductor, leading the way from the cellar to the upper hall, and out into the grounds. "Yonder," he said, pointing with his finger, "away to the southwest, Burgoyne's troops were stationed; the German auxiliaries, too, were resting from their fight, near Bemis Heights. Away to the west there, Morgan's famous riflemen were taking up their position along Burgoyne's front and flank, while Colonel Fellows was over yonder," turning to the east and again pointing with his finger, "bringing his batteries to bear upon the British. Just as the Baroness Riedesel in her calash with her three little girls stopped before the house, some American sharpshooters across the river levelled their muskets, and she had barely time to push her children to the bottom of the wagon and throw herself down beside them, before the bullets came whistling overhead. Neither she nor the little folks were hurt, but a soldier belonging to their party was badly wounded. The Baroness and her children spent the night there in the cellar. So did other ladies from the British army who followed her to this retreat that afternoon. They were in one of its three divisions, the wounded officers in another, and the common soldiers occupied the third."

"It must have been a dreadful night to the poor Baroness and those little girls," remarked Lulu, who was listening with keenest interest.

"Yes, indeed," responded the lad; "the cries and groans of the wounded, the darkness, dampness, and filth and stench of the wounds, all taken together, must have made an awful night for them all. I wonder, for my part, that the women and children weren't left at home in their own countries."

"That's where they ought to have been, I think," said Lulu. "Was it that night Surgeon Jones was killed?"

"No, Miss, the next day, when the Americans began firing again harder than ever."

"Where were they firing from then?" Lulu asked.

"The other side of the river, Miss; probably from some rising ground a little north of Batten Kil."

"Well, sir, what more have you to show us?" asked the Captain, pleasantly.

"A plank cut and shattered at one end, probably by the ball that killed the Surgeon. This way, if you please; here it is. And here is a rafter which you see has been partly cut in two by a shell. It was taken out of the frame of the house while they were repairing in 1868. Here are some other bits of shot and shell that have been ploughed up on the farm at different times. Ah! there are some things at the house I should have shown you."

"We will not mind going back so short a distance," said the Captain, "and would be glad to see everything you have to show us."

"Yes, sir; and I think you will say these things are worth looking at."

He led them back into the house and exhibited, first, a gold coin with the figure and inscription of George III. on one side, the British arms and an inscription with the date 1776 on the other, then a curious old musket, with bayonet and flint lock, which was carried in the Revolutionary War by an ancestor of the family now residing there.

CHAPTER II

"You may take us now to Frazer's grave," Captain Raymond said to the driver as they re-entered their carriage after a cordial good-by and liberal gift to their young guide.

"Please tell us something more about Frazer, Papa, won't you?" requested Lulu.

"Willingly," returned her father. "Frazer was a brave and skilful officer; made brigadier-general for America only, by Carleton, in June, 1776. He helped to drive the Americans out of Canada in that year. Burgoyne chose him to command the light brigade which formed the right wing of the British army, so that he was constantly in the advance. In the fight of October 7th he made a conspicuous figure, dressed in the full uniform of a field-officer, mounted on a splendid iron-gray gelding, and exerting himself to encourage and cheer on his men. Morgan saw how important he was to the British cause, pointed him out to his sharpshooters, and bade them cut him off. 'That gallant officer,' he said, 'is General Frazer. I admire and honour him; but it is necessary he should die, because victory for the enemy depends upon him. Take your stations in that clump of bushes, and do your duty!' They obeyed, and in five minutes Frazer fell mortally wounded, and was carried from the field by two grenadiers. Only a few moments before he was hit, the crupper of his horse was cut by a rifle-ball, and directly afterward another passed through the horse's mane, a little back of his ears. Then his aide said, 'General, it is evident that you are marked out for particular aim; would it not be prudent for you to retire from this place?' 'My duty forbids me to retire from danger,' Frazer answered; and the next moment he fell. That is Lossing's account; and he goes on to say that Morgan has been censured for the order by some persons, professing to understand the rules of war, as guilty of a highly dishonourable act; also by others, who gloat over the horrid details of the slaying of thousands of humble rank-and-file men as deeds worthy of a shout for glory, and have no tears to shed for the slaughtered ones, but affect to shudder at such a cold-blooded murder of an officer on the battle-field. But, as Lossing justly remarks, the life of an officer is no dearer to himself, his wife, and children, than that of a private to his, and that the slaying of Frazer probably saved the lives of hundreds of common soldiers."