Chapter 17

"I worship not the sun at noon,
The wandering stars, the changing moon,
The wind, the flood, the flame;
I will not bow the votive knee
To wisdom, virtue, liberty;
There is no god, but God for me,
Jehovah is his name."

Montgomery.

So sudden and unexpected had been the passage of Robert Willoughby
through the court, and among the men on post without the inner gates,
that no one recognised his person. A few saw that a stranger was in
their midst; but, under his disguise, no one was quick enough of eye
and thought to ascertain who that stranger was. The little white flag
that they displayed, denoted the errand of the messengers; the rest was
left to conjecture.

As soon as captain Willoughby ascertained that the alarm of the morning
was not likely to lead to any immediate results, he had dismissed all
the men, with the exception of a small guard, that was stationed near
the outer gait, under the immediate orders of serjeant Joyce. The
latter was one of those soldiers who view the details of the profession
as forming its great essentials; and when he saw his commander about to
direct a _sortie_, it formed his pride not to ask questions, and
to seem to know nothing about it. To this, Jamie Allen, who composed
one of the guard, quietly assented; but it was a great privation to the
three or four New England-men to be commanded not to inquire into the
why and wherefore.

"Wait for orders, men, wait for orders," observed the serjeant, by way
of quieting an impatience that was very apparent. "If his honour, the
captain, wished us to be acquainted with his movements, he would direct
a general parade, and lay the matter before us, as you know he always
does, on proper occasions. 'Tis a flag going out, as you can see, and
should a truce follow, we'll lay aside our muskets, and seize the
plough-shares; should it be a capitulation--I know our brave old
commander too well to suppose it possible--but _should_ it be even
_that_, we'll ground arms like men, and make the best of it."

"And should Joel, and the other man, who is a stranger to me, be
scalped?" demanded one of the party.

"Then we'll avenge their scalps. That was the way with us, when my Lord
Howe fell--'avenge his death! cried our colonel; and on we pushed,
until near two thousand of us fell before the Frenchmen's trenches. Oh!
_that_ was a sight worth seeing, and a day to talk of!"

"Yes, but you were threshed soundly, serjeant, as I've heard from many
that were there."

"What of that, sir! we obeyed orders. 'Avenge his death!' was the cry;
and on we pushed, in obedience, until there were not men enough left in
our battalion to carry the