The Riddle of Penncroft Farm (17 page)

The Grand Parade
was another name we thought grimly amusing. Upon that barren expanse the men with strength enough tried to drill, but with little enthusiasm and less skill. The officers scarcely knew more than the men, and no two officers used the same commands. It was not much of a parade, and only a zany would have dubbed it grand
.

One afternoon on the Grand Parade, we watched as drummers and fifers straggled out to form two crooked lines. Between the lines marched two officers, one with his uniform coat inside out and backward. The other drew the sword from the scabbard of
the oddly dressed officer, raised it high, and broke it over his own knee. Immediately, two private soldiers led out a scrawny-looking horse and placed the offending officer backward on its bare back. As the fifers and drummers struck up a march, the two soldiers swatted the animal's bony rump until it headed out of camp. A few jeers and hisses arose, but most soldiers watched in silence
.

I turned to Sandy. “Why did they do that?
”

“
He must have been caught stealing or gambling. Washington has forbidden throwing the dice here because it causes fights
.”

“
So you think this fellow was gambling?
”

“
Perhaps. Actually, he's lucky. As an officer, he's merely cashiered, as you saw—disgraced and sent away. A regular soldier might have been whipped for such offenses
.”

In the weeks that followed, I witnessed many such whippings. They were common enough, for there were many offenses carrying such a penalty. Chief among them was desertion, but even such a small offense as failure to use the vaults—the latrine ditches—was punishable by five licks of the lash
.

Just when everything looked the blackest, however, things changed for the better. The weather suddenly turned unseasonably warm, melting the two
streams that converged near Washington's headquarters. The shad, gulled into thinking spring had arrived in February, started their run upstream to spawn
.

Up the Schuylkill River came the fish, their silvery scales flashing in the sunlight. The men plunged into the water, shouting and laughing, pulling out writhing shad by handfuls, armfuls, and shirtfuls. Even the cavalry was called into action, riding horses back and forth across the shallows to herd the fish into the infantry's waiting hands
.

I had a prodigious fine time, shucking off my shirt and jumping into the river, plucking the slippery-finned shad from the shallows and throwing them to Sandy on shore. I kept splashing and inviting him to join the fun, but he stubbornly refused, watching wistfully from the bank
.

I never forgot the taste of that fresh fish, cooked over the fires that day: to me it tasted like hope. So did the rest of the food that came into camp, after the capable General Greene took over the task of finding supplies for the army
.

At about the same time as the shad run, there was another welcome arrival—Baron William Augustus Henry von Steuben, a high-ranking Prussian officer sent by Benjamin Franklin to train the troops
.

It was on the Grand Parade that I first saw the baron trying to teach a rudimentary drill to a gaggle of soldiers. The soldiers' clumsy mistakes were almost funny, but when I remembered how Brandywine had been lost because the Continentals couldn't maneuver quickly enough, the smile died on my face and I watched the man who hoped to change this
.

He was no graceful youth like the redheaded Lafayette. If anything, the baron's big nose and apoplectic temper put me in mind of Squire Cheyney. As he watched the men colliding and dropping their muskets, he jumped up and down in a rage. Though I understood not a word of foreign tongues, it was easy to see that the words issuing from his lips were not flowery compliments
.

“
I wonder what that language is,” I muttered
.

“
'Tis French—but the words are not familiar ones,” Sandy unexpectedly replied. “Oh, wait
—that
I understood
.”

“
What did he say?” I asked, stunned at Sandy's knowledge. Despite my mother's urgings, my book learning was all too meager. Even reading was too taxing to be pleasurable
.

Sandy choked. “He . . . er . . . insulted their mothers
.”

“
Where did you learn French?
”

“
My guardian hired good tutors
.”

“
But why—,” I started to ask, but Sandy shushed me and gestured toward the baron, whose face had grown as red as a beet while he bellowed at a slim young man hovering nervously at his side
.

Sandy dragged me away so he could laugh aloud. “He told his aide to swear for him in English!” he gasped
.

I joined Sandy's hilarity, but then asked a more serious question. “What's a boy like you—bred as a gentleman—doing out here at Valley Forge?
”

“
A boy like me?” he smiled. “I'm fighting for Independency
.”

I looked around at the peaceful scene “But I don't see any fighting,” I said with a shrug
.

“
Surely you are joking me, Geordie! Don't you see that keeping the army together is a great battle in itself? Why, I heard von Steuben say that no European army would stay together under such conditions.” He gestured toward the men on the Grand Parade, who were laughing uproariously at the Prussian's fractured profanity. “But we've stayed. 'Tis one battle we've won,” he said proudly
.

“
But that doesn't answer why you've made it your battle. You've no brother to care for here. Why have you left a life of comfort for firecakes and the itch?
”

“
I expect to make my own decisions and shoulder my own responsibilities when I am full grown. Why shouldn't my country be able to do the same?” His brown eyes glowed
.

It was a simple statement, but it made more sense to me than all the high-flown sentences of the Declaration of Independence that had so infuriated my father. I solemnly took off my tricorne, took out the cockade hidden inside, and fastened it on the brim. Then another sudden burst of laughter from the men behind us drew our attention and we returned to watch the drill
.

I don't know whether it was the translated profanity or the men's amusement upon hearing it that did the trick, but von Steuben's “school of the soldier” well-nigh transformed the Continental army. He simplified the commands and personally taught them to handpicked men, who went off to teach others. Between the fish in their bellies, the spring in the air; and their affection for this amusing foreigner, the men learned their paces apace. The whole camp was abuzz from sunup to sundown
.

At last Will was able to leave the hut, leaning heavily on his old cane. Despite the happy occasion, he looked at me with a solemn expression. “Geordie, I thank you with all my heart for coming here to help. Once again, you've saved my life. But now 'tis high time for you to leave
.”

“
But I want to stay and help! I'm a patriot, too,” I protested, pointing to his cockade on my hat
.

“
That's as may be, lad, but your duty lies at home. Mother needs you, and so does Father
.”

I fell silent, knowing he was in the right of it. I quickly gathered up my gear, but when I looked for Sandy to bid him farewell, he was nowhere to be found. Regretfully, I hid Will's cockade back inside my tricorne and set off for home
.

Needless to say, Mother was pleased to have me at home again. 'Twas time for the spring grafting, one of Father's methods to improve his orchard beyond that of the ordinary farm. I drudged away in the orchard, sliding new cuttings under the bark of old branches and sealing them up with beeswax so the sap would run through the whole. I tried not to miss my brother and my friend—my well-educated friend, Sandy
.

I was determined not to be such an unlettered numskull the next time we met. Mother was delighted when I asked that she tutor me in the evenings, especially when I studied so eagerly and progressed so far in only a couple of months
.

Father made strides, too. Gradually his hearing, speech, and understanding were returning. This fact
was obvious when he discovered that France had agreed to send troops and supplies to help the rebels. He worried over the broadening of the war, which caused the British to leave Philadelphia to consolidate their army in New York. He also derided the alliance itself, although not with the vigor of his previous wrath. Somehow his brush with death had mellowed his anger into sorrow
.

“
I simply cannot understand these rebels. Why, the French king is a true tyrant—his people have no rights at all! I'm sure France is only seeking to renew its old quarrels with England. When I think of Americans welcoming aid from our old enemy—those frogs we fought up and down our frontier—
”

“
Frogs?” I burst out
.

Mother looked upset. “'Tis a most insulting term for the French because they eat frogs' legs, Geordie. Laban, thee knows such inhumane language distresses me
.”

“
'Tis the French who are inhumane, Patience,” Father said wearily. “Didn't they set the Indians against our settlers?” He leaned back against the pillows and sighed. “I don't know what's to become of us, compounding with French tyrants against people of our own blood
.”

Several days later, the Derrys came to visit Father. He was so bored with his own company that he welcomed new faces, even those of neighbors with opposing politics. Besides, Father knew Master Derry had helped with the farmwork—though he didn't know how much, with me gone to Valley Forge. Therefore, Father swallowed his politics and greeted the Derrys with wary courtesy
.

Almost as soon as they were in the chamber, Mistress Derry hissed at me with a conspiratorial air and slipped a paper into my hand. I glanced furtively at the red wax seal. It bore the familiar imprint of Will's signet ring
.

Making some lame excuse, I ran out of the room and out of the house, not stopping until I reached the orchard. As I took the folded letter from my breeches pocket, I was glad I'd worked so hard on my reading. Turning the paper over, I saw my name written on the front in handwriting nothing like my own untidy scrawl
. Surely, for all his tutoring, Sandy wouldn't form his letters so delicately,
I thought, my forehead prickling with worry
. Has something happened to Sandy so that a lady has had to write for him?

Ripping off the seal, I scanned the closely written sheets until I found the signature, Sandy, written in the same hand. With a soft whistle of relief and a grin at Sandy's overly elegant writing, I eagerly read his letter
.

 

In Philadelphia

June 25, 1778

 

Dear Geordie,

How unhappy I was to find you gone when I returned to Valley Forge, but after Will explained he'd sent you home, I felt better. I thought you'd like an account of happenings at Valley Forge and Philadelphia.

First of all, and most important, was the arrival of the welcome news that France is now our ally. When this was announced to the men, what a huzzah went up! Then, later, we celebrated in style, with a
feu de joie
(“fire of joy”) of all the guns in camp. How splendidly the men marched, in all manner of formations, handling their muskets and bayonets as well as any redcoats I've seen drilling in Philadelphia.

At the end, everyone shouted “Long live the king of France” and “Long live the American states.” There was thunderous applause and shouts, and thousands of hats sailed into the air. How they found their owners again I cannot say.

Soon after, I had to return to the city. There I was a witness to a very different kind of celebration: a huge party for General Howe, about to be sent back to England. I thought it a shame to waste so much money on foolish pleasure, but the Philadelphia belles had no such qualms. I saw them flirting and dancing with the British officers without a care in the world.

The very morning after the party, Howe attacked an American detachment led by Lafayette at Barren Hill, overlooking the Schuylkill. Howe was so certain he'd capture Lafayette that before he left, he invited friends to dinner to meet “the Boy.” Alas for the general's dinner plans: by some very tricky marching, Lafayette was able to escape down a path to the river with all his men. For this we can bless the baron for his good work—and bad language.

A funny story is told of Barren Hill, though I know not if 'tis true. Some bear-helmeted British grenadiers, newly arrived from England, went with Howe and happened to encounter a small band of Algonquian Indians marching with Lafayette who were in full Indian battle gear, war paint and all. Rumor says that when the Indians and the grenadiers suddenly came face-to-face in the skirmish, the bizarre appearance of each side sent the other scurrying!

I have one more interesting bit of news—about our friend Ned Owens. Remember how upset he was when Conway was deposed? Well, he now has a new idol, the hero of Saratoga, Benedict Arnold. After the British left Philadelphia, General Washington made Arnold the military governor of the city. Whatever respect I had for Arnold was shattered by his infatuation for that loyalist snippet, Peggy Shippen. But, as the witcrackers say, “That's another Tory.”

In truth, now that both armies are gone (and hundreds of city loyalists have fled to New York), I find my regular life decidedly flat.