The Riddle of Penncroft Farm by Dorothea Jensen Page A

heard, the American army was miles away—close to Philadelphia, capital city of the rebellion simply because the Congress of “madmen and traitors” met there. Or had, before fleeing to York. At any rate, the presence of Washington’s forces at Welsh’s Tavern could mean trouble was close at hand
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    I sat down quietly on the puncheon bench and helped myself to the ham. I reckoned I should find out what was going on, else I might blunder into trouble on my way home
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    My attention was drawn by the thunderous sound of Mr. Welsh’s huge hand slamming down on the rough wooden tabletop. “So, lads, you think I should run and hide like a rabbit because the British are on the way? Nay, I’m a neutral party. I shall pour punch for any thirsty man with nary a thought for his politics!
”
    One of the soldiers shook his head in disbelief. “But politics is nothing when a battle’s in the offing, you fool! A cannonball doesn’t stop to inquire if you’ve taken sides! The British camped last night at Kennett Square, only two miles west of here. They may arrive at any time, going east to Chadd’s Ford. But Washington’s troops are waiting for them there
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    Mr. Welsh took a long swig from his own mug and set it down with a clatter. “If you’re so all-fired certain the lobsterbacks are coming through here, you’d best pay your shot and move along. I’d hate for you to be interrupted before settling up
.”
    â€œ
It won’t be so soon as all that, old man,” laughed another vedette. “Pour another round. This day promises to be long and hard, and I must needs fortify myself to face those redcoats
.”
    â€œI’ll
settle up with ye now, if you please, sir,” I said timidly
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    Mr. Welsh’s hearty laugh rang out. “Only one gentleman is wise enough to settle his accounts ahead of the lobsterbacks, and ’tis my misfortune to owe him, not the other way round.” He slapped me on the back; ’twas kindly meant, but I felt it to my ribs. “You go out and harness your team. When you return, I’ll have your money ready for you—and a nunchion to take along
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    I thanked the tavern keeper, then ran outside and hitched up my father’s slugfooted team, Daisy and Buttercup. A morning fog was rising, but I could clearly see the vedettes’ horses tied nearby. When I returned to the common room, Mr. Welsh handed me a small leather pouch full of coins and a bundle that smelt of spicy apple tart and savory beef pasty
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    It was then that we heard the first shouts and the sound of marching feet coming up the road from Kennett Square. Instantly, the vedettes dropped to the floor. One crawled like a crayfish across the uneven wooden planks to peek through the shutters. Mr. Welsh and I stood, staring at each other
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    â€œ
Ready your muskets,” hissed the soldier at the window
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    Mr. Welsh whispered so loud I thought the pewter tankards would shake on the boards. “Nay! Don’t fire! There are too many. You’ll rot in prison ships or in the grave unless you get out!
”
    â€œ
But we can’t reach our horses!
”
    â€œ
Then use your bloody feet!” Mr. Welsh growled. “Take the path at the back It comes out down the road closer to Chadd’s
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    The men rushed from the room. Petrified with fear, I watched Mr. Welsh stride across and throw open the front door. I could hear his voice booming forth. “Welcome to Welsh’s Tavern, sir. May I offer you a hot toddy to ward off this dreary fog? Geordie, be a good lad and fetch a mugful for this officer
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    My hands were shaking so that I could barely keep the toddy from sloshing over the edges of the cup, but somehow I managed to heat the drink with
a red-hot poker and carry it outside without spilling too much. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed red-coated soldiers in endless columns, but fear kept my gaze to the