United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The party, however, did not sit long after dinner, and when it broke up,
Douglas took me with him to his tent. "Come, we will have a cup of
coffee together before you turn in," said he, as we sat down; "I have a
French servant who understands cooking it better than any man I ever
met. You shall have at the same time a pipe of the true Virginia weed.
No one produces better than does our general on his estate; and this he
gave to me as being some of the very best he ever saw."
I found my friend's encomiums were fully justified by the excellence of
the tobacco; nor was his coffee to be despised. Several officers looked
in occasionally, and we had a very pleasant evening. They were,
however, at last hurriedly summoned off, and I threw myself down on the
camp bedstead my host had prepared for my use.
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."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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