Page:The Adventures Of A Revolutionary Soldier.pdf/105

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A REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIER.
103


place, but there was no rest. About two o'clock we took to the high road when we were between the village of Westchester and King's bridge, we then came back to the village, where we were separated into small divisions, each led by an officer, either of our own or of the Militia, and immediately entered all the suspected houses at once; what we had to do must be done quickly, as the enemy were so near that they might have been informed of us in less than half an hour; there were several men in the house into which I was led, but one only appeared to be obnoxious to the officer who led us; this man was a Tory Refugee, in green uniform; we immediately secured him. An old man as blind as a bat, came out of a bedroom, who appeared to be in great distress, for fear there would be murder committed, as he termed it. I told him it was impossible to commit murder with Refugees. We directly left the house with our prisoner, and joined the other parties and hurried off with all possible speed.

When we had got away and day light appeared, we found that we had twelve or fourteen prisoners, the most or all of whom had been concerned in the destruction of the Colonel's stores. We did not suffer the grass to grow long under our feet until we considered ourselves safe from the enemy that we had left behind us; we then slackened our pace and took to the road, where it was easier getting along than in the fields. Oh! I was so tired and hungry when we arrived at the Colonel's, which was not till sun-down or after. The most of the fellows we had taken belonged in the neighbourhood of this place. As we passed a house, just at night, there stood in the door an elderly woman, who seeing among the prisoners some that she knew, she began to open her batteries of blackguardism upon us for disturbing, what she termed, the king's peaceable subjects. Upon a little closer inspection, who should her ladyship spy amongst the herd, but one of her own sons. Her resentment was then raised to the highest pitch and we had a drenching shower of imprecations let down upon our heads. "Hell for war!" said she, "why you have got my son Josey too." Poor old simpleton! she might as well have saved her breath to cool her porridge.

We here procured another day's ration of the good