To Songs: HOW CAN WE WIN * THE FALL * AVENGE

SCENE 109 - Dawn in valley of the Neutral Ground

(A long roll of the drums, from the hill occupied by the British, announce that they are on the alert; and a corresponding signal is immediately heard from the Americans. The bugle of the Virginians strikes up its martial tones; and in a few moments both the hills, the one held by the royal troops, and the other by their enemies, are alive with armed men.)

(Day is beginning to dawn, and preparations are making by both parties, to give and receive the attack. In numbers the Americans have greatly the advantage; but in discipline and equipments the superiority is entirely with their enemies. The arrangements for the battle are brief, and by the time the sun has risen, the militia moves forward.)

(The ground does not permit the movements of horse; and the only duty that could be assigned to the dragoons is to watch the moment of victory, and endeavor to improve the success to the utmost. LAWTON soon gets his warriors into the saddle; and leaving them to the charge of HOLLISTER, he rides himself along the line of foot, who in varied dresses, and imperfectly armed, are formed in a shape that in some degree resembles a martial array.)

(A scornful smile lowers about the lip of the trooper as he guides Roanoke with a skillful hand through the windings of their ranks; and when the word is given to march, he turns the flank of the regiment, and follows close in the rear. The Americans have to descend into a little hollow, and rise a hill on its opposite side, to approach the enemy.)

(The descent is made with tolerable steadiness, until near the foot of the hill, when the royal troops advance in a beautiful line, with their flanks protected by the formation of the ground, the appearance of the British draws a fire from the militia, which is given with good effect, and for a moment staggers the regulars.)

(But they are rallied by their officers, and throw in volley after volley with great steadiness. For a short time the fire is warm and destructive, until the English advance with the bayonet. Their assault the militia have not sufficient discipline to withstand. Their line wavers, then pauses, and finally breaks into companies and fragments of companies, keeping up at the same time a scattering and desultory fire.)

(LAWTON witnesses these operations in silence, nor does he open his mouth until the field is covered with parties of the flying Americans. Then, indeed, he seems stung with the disgrace thus heaped upon the arms of his country. Spurring Roanoke along the side of a hill, he calls to the fugitives, in all the strength of his powerful voice.)

(He points to the enemy, and assures his countrymen that they have mistaken the way. There is a mixture of indifference and irony in his exhortations, and a few pause in surprise - more join them, until, roused by the example of the trooper, and stimulated by their own spirit, they demand to be led against their foe once more.)

LAWTON: Come on, then, my brave friends! (turning his horse's head toward British lines, one flank of which is very near him.) come on, and hold your fire until it will scorch their eyebrows.

(The men spring forward and follow his example, neither giving nor receiving a fire until they have come within a very short distance of the enemy.)

(When firing begins, LAWTON himself falls under their fire, in such a dramatic ending, for this illustrious Captain, that the advancing Americans pause aghast, and turning, they abandon the field to the royal troops.)

(It is neither the intention nor the policy of the English commander to pursue his success, for he well knows that strong parties of Americans will soon arrive; accordingly, he only tarries to collect his wounded, and, forming in a square, he commences his retreat towards the shipping.)

(Within twenty minutes of the fall of LAWTON, the ground is deserted by both English and American troops.)

SCENE 110 -Morning edge of the battle field

(When inhabitants of the country are called upon to enter the field, they are necessarily attended by such surgical advisers as are furnished by the low state of the profession in the interior at that day. Dr. SITGREAVES entertains quite as profound a contempt for the medical attendants of the militia as the captain did of the troops themselves.)

(He wanders around the field, casting many a glance of disapprobation at the slight operations that come under his eye; but when, among the flying troops, he finds that his comrade and friend is nowhere to be seen, he hastens back to the spot at which HOLLISTER is posted, to inquire if the trooper has returned. Of course the answer is negative.)

(Filled with a thousand uneasy conjectures, the surgeon, without regarding, or indeed without at all reflecting upon any dangers that might lie in his way, strides over the ground at an enormous rate, to the point where he knew the final struggle had been.)

SCENE 111 - Morning in field area where LAWTON fell

(Once before the surgeon had rescued his friend from death in a similar situation; and he feels a secret joy in his own conscious skill, as he perceives BETTY FLANAGAN seated on the ground, holding in her lap the head of a man whose size and dress he knows can only belong to the trooper.)

(As he approaches the spot, the surgeon becomes alarmed at the aspect of the washerwoman. Her little black bonnet is thrown aside, and her hair, which is already streaked with gray, hangs around her face in disorder.)

SITGREAVES: JOHN, dear JOHN! (tenderly he bends and lays his hand upon the senseless wrist of the trooper, from which it recoils with an intuitive knowledge of his fate) JOHN, dear JOHN, where are you hurt? - can I help you?

BETTY: Yee talk to the senseless clay (rocking her body, and unconsciously playing with the raven ringlets of the trooper's hair), and it's but little will he mind yee'r probes and yee'r med'cines.

SITGREAVES: (Still unwilling to believe the evidence of his unerring senses) JOHN, dear JOHN. speak to me; say what you will, that you do but speak. Oh, God, he is dead; would that I had died with him!

BETTY: There is but little use in living and fighting now, both him and the baste! see, there is the poor cratur, and here is the master! I fed the horse with my own hands, the day; and the last male that he ate was of my own cooking. Och - hone! och - hone - that Capt. JACK should live to be killed by the rig'lars.

SITGREAVES: JOHN, dear JOHN, they hour has come, and many a more prudent man survives thee; but none better, nor braver. Oh, JOHN!, thou wert to me a kind friend, and very dear; it is unphilosophical to grieve; but for thee , JOHN, I must weep, even in bitterness of heart!

(The doctor buries his face in his hands, and for several minutes sits yielding to an ungovernable burst of sorrow; while the washerwoman gives vent to her grief in words; moving her body in a kind of writhing, and playing with different parts of her favorite's dress with her fingers.)

BETTY: Oh, Captain. JACK! Captain JACK! yee was the sowl of the troop, and it was but little we know'd of the danger, and yee fighting. Och! he was no maly mouth'd, that quarreled wid a widowed woman for the matter of a burn in the mate, or the want of a breakfast. Taste a drop, darlin', and it may be, 'twill revive yee. Och, and he'll niver taste agin; there's the doctor, honey, him yee used to blarney wid, wapeing as if the poor sowl would die for yee. Och! He's gone, he's gone; and the liberty is gone wid him.

(A thundering sound of horses feet come rolling along the road which lead near the place where LAWTON lies, and directly the whole body of Virginians appear, with DUNWOODIE at their head. The news of the captain's fate has reached him; for the instant that he sees the body he halts the squadron, and dismounting, approaches the spot.)

(The countenance of LAWTON is not in the least distorted, but the angry frown which had lowered over his brow during battle is fixed even in death. His frame is composed, and stretches as in sleep. DUNWOODIE takes hold of his hand, and gazes a moment in silence; his own dark eye kindled, and the paleness which has overspread his features is succeeded by a spot of deep red in either cheek.)

DUNWOODIE: With his own sword will I avenge him (endeavoring to take the weapon from the hand of LAWTON; but the grasp resists his utmost strength.) It shall be buried with him. SITGREAVES, take care of our friend, while I revenge his death.

(The Major hastens back to his charger, and leads the way in pursuit of the enemy.)