CHAPTER XXVI
It was nearly ten o'clock; a freezing rain still swept the blackBoston streets, with now and again a volley of hail, rattling onclosed shutters and swinging shop-signs.
In the dark mews behind the "Wild Goose Tavern" had gathered a shadowycompany of horsemen, unfortunate patriots who had not been quickenough to leave the city before the troops shut its landward gates.
Caught by the Governor's malignant move, separated from theircompanies of Minute Men, these half-score gentlemen had met at the"Wild Goose" to consult how best they might leave the city and jointheir comrades at Lexington and Concord.
Some were for riding to the Neck and making a dash across thecauseway; some wanted boats, among the latter, Jack Mount, whonaturally desired to rid the town of his person as speedily as mightbe.
"There's a hempen neck-cloth to fit my pipes in Queen Street," hesaid, plaintively, "and I desire it not, having no mind for flummery.Let us find a flat-boat, in God's name, and get us to Charlestown withour horses while the rain endures."
"Ay," replied an officer of Roxbury Minute Men, "but what if ourhorses neigh in mid-stream?"
"The _Somerset_ ran out her deck-guns at sunset," added another. "Whatif she turned her swivel on us?"
"And how if they swept us off the causeway with a chain-shot?" askedMount.
"What think you, Mr. Cardigan?" demanded an officer of Sudburymilitia, leaning forward in his wet saddle to pat the dripping neck ofhis roan.
"I only know that I shall ride this night to Lexington," I said,impatiently, "and I am at your service, gentlemen, by land or sea.Pray you, decide quickly while the rain favours us."
"Is there a man among us dare demand a pass of the Governor?" askedthe Sudbury officer, abruptly. "By Heaven, gentlemen, it is death byland or by sea if we make to force the lines this night!"
"And it is death to me if I stay here cackling," muttered Mount, as wecaught the distant gallop of dragoons through stony Wiltshire Street.
We sat moodily in our saddles, huddled together in the darkness andrain, listening to the sound of the horses' feet on the pavement.
"I'd give a thousand guineas if I were on the Charlestown shore withRevere," muttered an officer.
"The Governor might sell you a pass for ten," observed another,sneeringly. "It will cost him a penny to keep his pretty bird o'paradise in plumes."
"If John Hancock were here he would get us a pass from Mrs. Hamilton,"remarked the Sudbury officer.
There was a silence, then one or two men laughed.
"Is Mrs. Hamilton at Province House?" I asked, not understanding thecareless handling of her name among these gentlemen.
Again came laughter.
"It is easy to see that you have been in prison," observed the Sudburyofficer. "Mrs. Hamilton rules at Province House, and leads Tommy Gageby the nose--"
"By the _left hand_," interrupted another, maliciously.
"You mean that Mrs. Hamilton is--is--" I began.
"Town scandal," said the officer.
"It may be a lie," observed a young man mounted on a powerful gray.
"It is a lie," I said, with an ugly emphasis.
"Is that remark addressed to me, sir?" demanded the Sudbury officer,sharply.
"And to company, also," I replied.
"Gentlemen!" cried the Roxbury officer, "are we to have quarrels amongus at such a time?"
"Certainly," said I, "if you or your company affront me. Tattle isdirty work for a gentleman's tongue, and the sooner that tongue isstopped with honest mud the better."
"I've called a gentleman out for less than that," said an old officer,dryly.
"I am at your service," I replied, disgusted.
"And I'm with you, lad," said Mount, walking up to my stirrup. "I haveno stomach for those who wink at a woman's name."
"I also," said the young man on the gray, gravely.
A constrained silence followed, broken by the Sudbury officer.
"Hats off to the beautiful Mrs. Hamilton, gentlemen! Cardigan isright, by God! If we stand not for our women, who will?"
And he stretched out his hand in the rain. I took it; others offeredme their hands.
"I ride to Province House," I said, briefly. "Jack, fetch a cloak tohide your buckskins and wait me here. Gentlemen, I wish you fortune inyour journey."
As I rode out into Cambridge Street, thunder boomed in the east, and Isaw the forked lightning racing through inky heavens, veining thestorm with jewelled signs.
"God writes on heaven's wall!" I said, aloud.
A strange exultation stirred me; the dark world lay free and widebefore me, and I would ride it, now, from end to end, till SilverHeels was mine and Butler's soul had dropped back into that pit fromwhence it had crawled to hide within his demon's body.
In Hillier's Lane I put Warlock to a gallop, but drew bridle in muddySudbury Street, where, from the darkness, a strident voice called onme to halt.
"Who comes there?" repeated the voice. I heard the trample of horsemenand the clink of sabres striking stirrups.
"Coureur-de-bois for Province House!" I answered, calmly. A chafingtemper began to heat my blood; I gathered my bridle and dropped onehand on my hatchet.
"On whose affairs ride you?" demanded the spectral dragoon, laying hishorse broadside across mine.
"On my own affairs!" I cried, angrily; "pull out there!--do you hearme, fellow?"
A lanthorn was lifted to my face.
"Let the forest wild-cat go," muttered an officer, riding back to thepicket as I crowded my horse against the dragoon who had hailed me.
Without giving them a glance I pushed through the cluster of horsemen,and heard them cursing my insolence as I wheeled into School Streetand cantered along Governor's Alley.
There were torches lighted in the mews; an hostler took Warlock; Iswung out of the saddle and stepped back to a shelter from the storm.
Through the rain, up Marlborough Street, down School Street, and alongCornhill, drove the coaches and carriages of the Tory quality, allstopping at the brilliantly lighted mansion, where, as an hostlerinformed me, the Governor was giving a play and a supper to thewealthy Tory families of Boston and to all the officers of the Britishregiments quartered in the city. I knew the latter statement wasfalse.
I stood for a while in the rain among the throng of poor who had cometo wait there, in patience, on the chance of a scrap from theservants' quarters after the servants had picked the bones theirsurfeited masters would scarcely deign to lick.
At first, as the coaches dashed up and the chairs jogged into thegateway, a few squalid watchers in the crowd fought to open thecarriage-doors, hoping for a coin flung to them for their pains; butthe sentinels soon put a finish to this, driving the ragged rabblesavagely, with thrusts of their musket-butts, out into MarlboroughStreet. Under the gate-lanthorn's smeared reflections I saw the poorthings huddled in a half-circle, pinched and chattering and white withhunger, soaked to the bone with the icy rain, yet lingering, God knowswhy, for a brief glimpse of My Lady in pink silk and powder, pickingher way from her carriage across the puddles, while My Lord minced ather side and the footman ran behind to cover them both with aglistening umbrella.
The stony street echoed with the clatter of shod horses, the rattle ofwheels, the shouts of footmen, and the bawling of chair-bearers.
Once, when the wind sharpened, shifted, and blew the slanting rainfrom the north, a warm odour of roasted butcher's meats came to us,and I could hear a hollow sound rising from the throng, which was likea groan.
In the Province House fiddlers were fiddling; it was chill enough inthe street, but it was doubtless over-hot within, for servants cameand threw open the windows and we could hear the fiddles plainly andthe sweet confusion of voices and a young girl's laughter.
A hoarse cry broke out, wrung from the very vitals of the wretchesaround me.
"Silence!" shouted the officer of the gate-guard, striding out in hislong rain-cloak and glaring about him, with tasselled st
ick upraised.The rain powdered his gilded French hat and laced vest, and he steppedback hastily under shelter.
There was perfect quiet for an instant, then a movement near me, amutter, a quick surging of people, a cry: "Give room! Back there! Bearhim up!"
A voice broke out, "He is starving; the smell o' meat sickens him!"
Two men staggered past, supporting a mere lad, whose deathly face hungon his rain-soaked cotton shirt.
"He has the spotted sickness!" muttered a chair-bearer near me; "it'sdeath to take his breath! Let me pass!"
"The pest!" cried another, shrinking back, and stumbling away in apanic.
The officer watched the scene for a moment, then his heavy, inflamedface darkened.
"Back there! Be off, I say!" he bawled. "Ye stinking beggars, d'yemean to poison us all with the pest? Turn out the gate-guard! Drivethose filthy whelps up Cornhill!" he shouted to the corporal of theguard.
The soldiers came tumbling out of the gate-lodge, but before theycould move on the throng another officer hurried up, and I heard himsharply recalling the soldiers and rebuking the officer who had giventhe order.
"No, no, that will not do," he said. "The town would flame if youdrive the citizens from their own streets. Let them stand there. Whatharm are they doing?"
"The lout yonder fell down with the spotted pest," remonstrated thefirst officer. "Faugh! The rabble's rotten with scurvy or some filthyabomination--"
"They'll harm no one but themselves," replied the other in a sadvoice, which sounded strangely familiar to me, so familiar that Iinvoluntarily stepped out into the lighted space under the gate andpeered at him through the rain, shielding my eyes with my hands.
The officer was Mr. Bevan.
Should I speak to him? Should I count on his friendship for me to getme an audience with the Governor? Here was a chance; he could vouchfor me; so could Mrs. Hamilton.
As I hesitated somebody beside me clutched my elbow, and I swungaround instantly, one hand on my hunting-knife.
The next moment Saul Shemuel almost rolled at my feet in an ecstasy ofhumble delight, sniffling, writhing, breathing hard, and clawing at mysleeve in his transports at sight of me.
I seized his arm, drew him along the wall, and into the dusky mews.
Impatient, yet touched, I suffered his mauling, demanding what news hemight have, and he, beside himself with joy and excitement, couldscarce find breath to pant out the news which concerned me. "I hafseen Foxcroft," he gasped. "Mr. Foxcroft he hass come to-day on dot_Pomona_ frigate to Scarlet's Wharf, twelve weeks from Queenstown,sir. It wass printed in dot _Efening Gazette_, all apout Foxcroft howhe iss come from Sir Peter Warren to make some troubles for Sir JohnJohnson mit dot money he took from Miss Warren, sir!"
"Foxcroft! Here?" I stammered.
"Yess, sir; I ran mit my legs to Queen Street, und I told him how youwass in dot prison come, und he run mit his legs to Province House,but too late, for we hear dot bell ring und dose guns shooting. Und Isaid, 'Gott of Isaac, I bet you Jack Mount he hass run avay!' Und Mr.Foxcroft he sees some dragoon soldiers come into Cornhill, callingout: 'Dose highwaymens is gone! Vatch 'em by dot Mall!' So Mr.Foxcroft he comes to Province House mit me, sir, und he iss gone in tomake some troubles mit Governor Gage apout Sir John Johnson und dotmoney of Miss Warren! Ach, here iss Mr. Foxcroft, now, sir--"
I turned to confront a stout, florid gentleman, swathed in ariding-cloak, whose little, angry eyes snapped as he cried: "GovernorGage is a meddling ass! I care not who listens to me, and, I repeat,he is a meddlesome ass! Sir Peter Warren shall hear of this, damme! AmI a free agent, damme? I take it that I am a free agent, yet I may notleave this town to-night for lack of a pass. But I'll go! They shallnot stop me! No, damme if they shall!"
The hostlers were all staring at him; I stepped towards him, eagerly,but the peppery and inflamed barrister waved me off.
"Damme, sir!" he bawled; "who the devil are you, sir? Take your handsfrom me, sir! I wish to go to my client in Lexington, and this Torypeacock will give me no pass! I will not suffer this outrage; I willappeal to--"
I gave him a jerk that shook the breath from his body, whispering inhis ear: "Be silent, in Heaven's name, sir! I am Michael Cardigan!"
At first, in his passion, astonishment, and incredulity, he found novoice to answer me; but as Shemuel eagerly vouched for me, Mr.Foxcroft's fury and suspicion subsided.
"You? Cardigan?" he repeated. "Well, where the devil have you been,sir, and what the devil have you been about, sir? Eh? Answer me that,now!"
"I've been in prison, under sentence of death," I replied. "Where have_you_ been, sir, to leave your client, Miss Warren, at the mercy ofWalter Butler?"
At that he took fire, and, with trembling fist quivering towardsheaven, he justified his absence in warm terms.
"I've been in England, sir, that's where I've been!" he cried. "I'vebeen there to find out why your blackguard of a kinsman, Sir JohnJohnson, should rob my client of her property. And I've found out thatyour blackguard Sir John has not only robbed her of her means, but ofthe very name she has a right to! That's what I've done, sir. And ifit does not please you, you may go to the devil!"
His impudence and oaths I scarcely noted, such a fierce happiness wassurging through me to the very bones. I could have hugged the cholericbarrister as he stood there, affronting me at every breath; I fairlybeamed upon him when he bade me go to the devil, and, to hisamazement, I seized his fat hands and thanked him so gratefully thatthe defiance died on his lips and he stared at me open-mouthed.
"My dear sir, my dear, dear friend," I cried, "I will get you yourpass to clear the Neck to-night, and we will go together to find mycousin, Miss Warren. Wait me here, sir; I will leave Boston this nightor my name is not Cardigan!"
Then bidding Shemuel keep an eye on Warlock, I hurried around to thegate-house, where the rabble still slunk, watching the lighted windowswith famished eyes.
The clouds in mid-heaven had caked into snowy jets of fleece, and nowthe full moon of April flooded the soaked pavements with pools ofsilver.
The sentry halted me as I entered the court-yard, but when I asked forMr. Bevan, he called to a comrade to take my message. The next momentBevan stepped out into the moonlight.
"What is it, my man? Can I serve you?" he said, pleasantly, peering atme.
"Do you not know me, Mr. Bevan?" I asked.
"Cardigan!" he stammered, "is that you, Cardigan--"
He was close to me at a stride, both hands on my shoulders, hiskindly, troubled eyes full of wonder and pity. Perhaps I appeared tohim somewhat haggard and careworn, and then the rain had chilled andpinched me.
"I am not in want," I said, trying to smile.
"But--but why are you not among the guests at Province House?" heasked, quickly. "The son of Captain Cardigan needs no friend at court,I fancy."
He linked his gilded sleeve in my arm and drew me past theguard-house, and ere I could protest, I found myself inside thecloak-room among a company of old beaux and young fops, all in thehands of footmen and body-servants who were busily dusting thehair-powder from silken shoulders, smoothing out laces, hanging hatsand cloaks to dry, and polishing sword-hilts for their languid,insolent-eyed masters.
"Can we not find a quiet corner hereabouts?" I asked. "I came todemand a pass for Lexington. Will you use your privilege with theGovernor, Bevan?"
"A pass!" he exclaimed, stopping short in his tracks.
"To Lexington," I repeated.
"To-night?"
"Yes."
He raised his honest, perplexed eyes to me.
"I must have a pass; it concerns the welfare of Miss Warren," I began,then hesitated, remembering that I was also to take Jack Mount in mycompany, whose business in Lexington was very different from mine.
"Cardigan," he said, with troubled eyes on me, "I cannot lend myselfto such a service, even for Miss Warren's sake, unless you first giveme your word of honour that your journey concerns only Miss Warren'swelfare."
; My heart sank; I could not betray the comrade who counted on me. JackMount must get free o' Boston as well as I. But how could I lie toBevan or requite his courtesy with treachery? Yet honour forbade me toleave Jack Mount, even for Silver Heels's sake.
"Pass or no pass, I go this night," I said, sullenly.
"Hush!" he said; "don't talk here."
He led me through the card-rooms, where a score of old bucks andpurple-necked officers sat, all playing picquet in owlish silence,then through a partition, where a fountain sprayed beds of tall ferns,out into a lamp-illumined circular alcove, hung with China silks, andbowered deep in flowers and tiny, blossoming trees no higher thanone's knee-buckle.
"The Chinese alcove," he observed. "Nobody will disturb us here, Ifancy. You have heard of the Chinese alcove, Cardigan? There is thedoor to the famous golden gallery."
I glanced at the gilded door in the corner, half-hidden by Chinesedrapery. I had heard that the Governor's sweetheart dwelt here.
Bevan reached up and pulled a velvet cord. Presently a servant broughtus a silver bowl of steaming punch made with tea and fruit in theRegent's fashion.
"I drink no tea," I said, shortly.
"I suppose not," observed Bevan, laughing, and commanded the servantto fetch me a bowl without tea.
"Your courtesy to a rebel is extraordinary," I said, after aninterval.
"Oh, I'm half rebel myself," he laughed. "I'd be in my shirt-sleevesout Middlesex way, drilling yokels--Minute Men, I believe--were it notthat--that--oh, well, I'll wear the red jacket as long as I live andlet the future weed out the goats from the sheep."
"It's different with you," I said. "You are English bred."
"Ay, and the red o' the uniform has dyed my flesh to the bone," hereplied.
"You mean that you will fight--us?" I asked.
"Tooth and nail, my dear fellow," he said, gayly; "foot, horse, anddragoons! But what can I do to serve you--first?"
I tasted a glass of punch, then set it down impatiently. "I tell you Imust ride to Lexington," I said, firmly, "and I mean to take friendsif I choose--"
"Tell me no more, Cardigan," he broke in, "else I must refuse you whatlittle service I may render. You know as well as I why the gates onthe Neck are closed to-night. If you do not know, listen to me. Therebels have been storing war materials. Last October we gave theirspokesmen full warning that we could no longer tolerate the collectingof arms and ammunition. We sent expeditions into the country todestroy what stores they had gathered."
He hesitated; a perplexed smile passed over his face. "You knowperfectly well," he said, "that we have good reasons for closing thecity gates to-night. I cannot give you a pass. Yet, for Miss Warren'ssake"--he lifted his hat as he spoke--"I have done what I could inhonour. Now I must leave you."
"What have you done?" I asked, angrily.
"I have conducted you to the Chinese alcove, my friend."
"The ante-chamber of the Governor's mistress," I retorted. "Am I tofind my pass here among these flowers and blossoms?"
He looked down at the glasses on the table beside us, stirred thecontents of his own, and nodded.
"What do you mean?" I demanded, hotly.
"I mean, Cardigan, that, except the Governor, there is only oneperson to-night in Boston who can secure you a pass for Lexington. Ifshe chooses to do so, it is not my affair."
"If _who_ chooses to do so?"
"She."
"Who?"
"Wait and--ask her," he said, gravely.
He was gone, wading waist-deep in flowers, ere I could compose my mindto think or protest, leaving me speechless; standing by the table.
A minute passed; through the thickets of sweet-smelling blossoms thecandles flamed like those slender witch-lights that dance overnature's gardens, where bergamot and cardinal robe our dim woods incrimson glory under the October stars.
"What does he mean by leaving me here?" I muttered, pacing to and frothrough the fragrant, flowering lane. Then, as I stood still,listening, far away I heard a glass door close with a crystallineclash; there came the rustle of brocade sweeping like a breeze alongthe passage; the door of the golden gallery swung outward; a figureall silk and lace stood poised on the step above me, screened to theknees behind the flowers.
"Where is the forest-runner who desires a pass to Lexington?" shebegan; then, perceiving my lank, dark form against the candle-light,she laughed a sweet, contented little laugh and bade me approach.
I saw that exquisite, indolent head bending towards me, the smilingeyes seeking my features, the jewels ablaze at her throat.
"Marie Hamilton!" I stammered.
All her neck and face flamed, then whitened to the hue of death as shestepped swiftly towards me, her brocade sweeping through the flowerswith a sound like the wind tearing silken petals. Suddenly she stoodstill, clearing her startled eyes with one jewelled hand; her kneesfell a-trembling; she swayed and caught at the stiff, golden curtains,half tearing them from the wall.
Into a carved chair, all glittering with dragon's wings, she fell, acrumpled heap of lace and jewels, and buried her face in her hands,pressing her fingers into the plump skin.
I watched her miserably; she twisted her white hands before her face;her quivering mouth, her delicate body bent and writhing, all thesetold me what no words could tell, and her agonized silence shouted hershame to the midnight skies of heaven.
In the hush that followed, the door of the golden gallery swung idlyback and forth with a deadened, muffled beat like the noise of greatwings flapping.
"Michael," she said, at last.
"Yes," I whispered, in hopeless grief.
Presently she sat up, wearily, one hand on her pale, smooth brow. Icould not meet her eyes; I bent my head.
"Oh, God, what punishment is mine!" she sobbed.
She dropped her hands, clasped them, and looked wildly at me throughher tears.
"If I am what I am, it was because I had lost you," she said. "I hadeaten my heart out--you never came--I never thought you cared--I neverthought you cared!" she wailed, twisting her interlocked fingers inhelpless agony. "I had loved you so long; I tried to make youunderstand it, but you would not. I was mortally hurt--I said bitterthings--but my heart was yours, Michael, yours for the asking, and sowas I; you had only to take me; I would have gone with you from thefirst word you spoke to me in Johnson Hall--I would have followedyou--from the first glance you gave me. Wrong? What is wrong? Love? Itis _never_ wrong! I would have died for a touch of your lips; I didalmost die when you kissed me there, using me so shamelessly with yourboyish cruelty! You went away in the night; I searched Johnstown, andI listened and questioned until I believed you had gone to Pittsburg.And I followed you, madly jealous of Felicity, crazed at the thoughtthat she, too, was going to Pitt to be near you. But you were not atFort Pitt; I waited, and I was calm because I believed that Felicitymeant to wed with Dunmore. Then Harrod sent in his list of killed--myhusband was among the dead. I went back to Albany. I meant to come toBoston to sell my house: I needed money. You found me there on theroad that night; I could have died from happiness, but you would notunderstand me, Michael!" she ended, piteously.
I kept my eyes on the floor.
"And now, since you have been in Boston, all these long months," shecried, "I have not seen you; I could not find you, nor could I findanybody who had ever seen you. God knows I did not think to see youhere since I, destitute, utterly desperate, caring nothing for life,took--this--shameful--step--"
She covered her hot face with her hands.
"Can you believe I love you still?" she sobbed.
I could endure no more; already I had stumbled through the floweryhedge towards the door, blindly forcing a path amid the blossoms whichthrew out a hundred tendrils to bar my way.
Once I looked back. She lay in the glittering chair, eyes followingme. The next step, and a great bunch of roses blotted her face from mysight.
Through the card-room I hurried, aware of people around me, yet seeingnothing; down
the stairway, jostled by people who were descending ormounting, and at last into the cloak-room and out through thecourt-yard, which was now bright with moonlight shining in the puddlesof rain.
Shemuel came from the mews to meet me, leading Warlock. Mr. Foxcroftstalked behind him.
"Where is the pass?" he demanded. "Did you procure the pass, sir?What! Empty-handed! Now, by Heaven!" he cried, in a towering fury,"this Tory Governor presumes too far!"
"Be silent!" I said, sharply; "do you wish to have us all arrested? Ishall go to Lexington to-night, I tell you, pass or no pass; and,before I go, you shall tell me where I may find Miss Warren."
"A mile out of Lexington on the Bedford Road," he replied. "How canyou pass the Neck guard, without the Governor's leave, sir?"
"I will show you," said I, "if you choose to accompany me."
"You mean to ride for it?" he asked, excitedly.
I was silent.
"And risk a chain-shot from their twenty-four-pounders?" hepersisted.
"Mr. Foxcroft," I said, "you may do as you please, but there isnothing under the moon, yonder, which can keep me from going toLexington. Have you a horse stabled here? No? Can you hire one? Thenhire him, in Heaven's name, and get into your saddle if you mean to gowith me. Shemuel, find a good horse for Mr. Foxcroft, and another forJack Mount. You must pay for them; I have no money. It is half-pastten o'clock; I will wait ten minutes."
Shemuel scurried back into the mews; Foxcroft followed, and in amoment his portly figure was lost to sight in the dusky alley.
I looked up at the lighted windows of Province House, wondering how onearth I was to go to Lexington. Music was sounding from the ballroom;I looked out across the dark city; the moon hung over the bay; therigging of a war-ship rose black against the silvery disk.Instinctively I turned my eyes towards the steeple of the Old NorthMeeting-House. The steeple was dark; the troops had not yet started.
Musing there in the moonlight, hands clasped on the pommel of mysaddle, the dull thunder of hoofs from the stable aroused me, andpresently Mr. Foxcroft came clattering out of the mews, followed byShemuel, also mounted, a grotesque lump of a shape, crouched on thesaddle, his flat, three-cornered hat crammed over his great ears, hisnose buried in his neck-cloth. He led a third horse behind him.
"Now, sir," panted Foxcroft, "I am prepared to ride to the devil withyou and put this Tory Governor's nose out o' joint!"
"Do you also ride with us, Shemuel?" I asked.
He replied faintly in the affirmative. The little creature wasfrightened. His devotion touched me very deeply.
Walking our horses along Common Street, we were almost immediatelyaccosted by dragoons, who, on learning that our destination was the"Wild Goose Tavern," cursed us roundly, promising to clean out thatnest of rebels at no distant date. Their officer also began toharangue us, but I pushed my horse past him and cantered on into theMall and out through Green Lane, wheeling into the alley behind the"Wild Goose."
Of the half-score gentlemen whom I had left there, sitting theirrain-drenched horses, none remained. However, Mount was in the tavern,and he came at my whistle, explaining that the balance of the companyhad chosen to risk crossing the bay under the guns of the _Somerset_,rather than attempt to force the Neck.
"God go with them!" said I; "here's Shemuel with a horse for you.We'll ride to the shore and see what can be done."
Mount, who had been busily embracing Shemuel, gave the little Jew amighty slap of affection, vaulted into his saddle, passed my rifle tome, and fell back beside the peddler, while Mr. Foxcroft and I rodethrough the Mall once more, down towards the shore, where, in thedarkness, faint flashes through the trees came and went as the wavesof the bay caught the moonlight.
"Is it too far to swim?" I asked Mr. Foxcroft.
"Too far," he replied, with a shiver. "All is marsh beyond; the mudwould smother us ere we landed. That shoal yonder is dry atlow-water."
"Mr. Foxcroft," said I, "we must swim for it somewhere. Could we notmake the Charles River at a pinch?"
"No, nor Stony Brook," he said. "A good swimmer might circle thefloating battery and make his way outside the Neck, but he could notlast, Mr. Cardigan."
We had been slowly approaching the shore while we spoke. For some timeI had fancied I heard sounds in the darkness like the stirring andmovement of a body of men assembling. At first I fancied the swellingmurmur of the tide deceived me, yet at moments it seemed as though Icould distinguish a trampling sound which could not have been the beatof the ocean's steady squadrons on the beach.
Then, as we came out through the fringe of trees from which the landfell away to the water's edge, a stirring sight lay spread before us:below, in the dazzling moonlight, the shore swarmed with soldiers,teamsters, and boatmen, moving hither and thither along the water'sedge. Companies of grenadiers were marching towards the wooden wharfat the end of Hollis Street; companies of light infantry and marineswere embarking in the boats which lay rocking along the shore; horsessnorted, gathered in groups, while boatmen poled flat-boats towards acove from which already a scow, freighted with horses, was beingpushed out into the bay.
Although there was no talking, save the half-whispered commands of theofficers, the movement of so many boats, the tread of a thousand men,the stamping and noises of horses, all swelled into a heavy, ceaselesssound, which mingled with and intensified the murmur of the mountingtide, stirred to its flood by the silver magic of the rising moon.
Hundreds of soldiers had already embarked; we could distinguish thedark line of their boats, all strung out as though fastened together,stem and stern, rising and falling on the glittering surface of thebay, ever lengthening, as new boats, loaded deep with soldiers, putout to fall into line and sail bobbing away into the darkness, only toreappear again under the flood of moonlight.
"Suppose," whispered Mount, "we lead our horses aboard that scowyonder!"
In another moment, scarcely aware of what I was actually about, I haddismounted, and was leading Warlock straight down to the shore towardsa cove, where half a dozen boatmen were standing in a scow, resting ontheir long sea-poles.
"If they ask questions, knock them into the water!" said Mount,calmly.
He repeated the instructions to Foxcroft and Shemuel as we filed alongthe dim shore past a throng of boatmen, grooms, officers' servants,and teamsters, and made straight towards the scow that lay a few yardsoff shore in the little, shadowy cove.
It was a desperate attempt; had I given myself one minute'sreflection, I should rather have risked a dash across the Neck and achain-shot on the causeway. Yet its very audacity was in our favour;the boatmen, when they saw us leading our horses down to their cove,hastily lowered a plank bridge from their heavy scow, and Mount coollywaded out into the water, guiding his horse aboard as calmly as thoughit were his own stable, and these Tory boatmen his paid grooms.
I followed with Warlock, who snorted and pawed when the salt waterrose to his fetlocks, but he danced up the plank incline and enteredthe boat without coaxing. Shemuel's horse, a sleek, weasel-belliedanimal, with a wicked eye and a bunch o' hackle for a tail, swunground in the water, slinging the little Jew on his face in the mud,and then, with a vicious squeal, flung up his heels and cantered off,scattering a company of marines drawn up a hundred yards down theshore.
Draggled and dripping, Shemuel, standing knee-deep in salt water,watched the flight of his horse, but I bade him come aboard at once,and he did so, casting sidelong glances at the boatmen, who regardedhim with astonishment.
Mr. Foxcroft, meanwhile, had dragged his horse aboard, and Mountordered the boatmen to push off at once.
As the men took up their heavy sea-poles, I heard them whispering toeach other that Mount and I must be scouts sent ahead to spy for thesoldiers, and I caught them eying our buckskins curiously as they layon their poles, pushing out towards the broad belt of moonlight whichglistened beyond.
The wind whipped our cheeks as we swung clear of the land; the boatmenpresently took to their oars, which I
noticed were muffled midwaybetween blade and handle. The row-locks, also, had been padded withbunches of wheat-straw and rags.
Now that we were safely afloat, misgivings seized me. I had neverbefore been on salt water; the black waves which came slapping on ourcraft disturbed me; the shadowy hulk of the war-ship which lay athwartour course loomed up like doom, seeming to watch us with its wickedlittle green and red eyes, marking us for destruction.
The wind freshened furiously in my face; the waves came rolling in outof the darkness, rap! rap! slap! rap! crushing into stinging gusts ofspray, soaking us to the skin.
Far to our left the line of boats floated, undulating across the bay;the beacon in Boston flared out red as we rounded Fox Hill; the lighton Mount Wh-d-m twinkled.
Presently Mount touched my arm and pointed. High up in the dark hazeabove the city two bright lights hung. So we knew that Rolfe waswatching from the belfry of the Old North Meeting-House, and that Paulhad read the twin lamps' message and was now galloping west throughthe Middlesex farms.
Shemuel, shivering in his wet and muddy garments, crept up beside meto ask where we were to be landed.
I did not know, nor dared I ask, fearing to awake suspicion. Besides,we were close under the sprit of a tall, black frigate, so close thatI could see the candles flaring in the battle lanthorns and the deadbay-weeds hanging from the chains, and I could even read her name, the_Falcon_.
Then, suddenly, out of the shadow under the black frigate's hulk, acockle-shell came dancing towards us, with an officer in the stern,who played his lanthorn on us and waved his arm.
"Move into line with the ship's boats!" he called out, with many astrange sea-oath; and our brawny oarsmen pulled northeast once moretowards the long line of boats which now stretched almost across thebay.
"You land at Phipps's Farm, sir?" inquired a sweating boatman ofMount.
"Phipps's Farm!" broke in Mr. Foxcroft. "It's in the marshes o'Lechemere! I'm damned if I'll be landed at Phipps's!"
"Isn't that where the troops land, sir?" asked the boatman, restinghis oar.
Mount shook his head mysteriously.
"We are on special service, lads," he said. "Ask no questions, but putus ashore at Willis Creek, and tell the colonel to give you a guineaapiece for me."
At this impudent remark the boatmen began to row with renewed vigour;the salt spray drove aboard in showers, the wind roared in our ears,the horses huddled together.
Once more we swung across the line of boats; in the craft just aheadof us I could see the marines sitting with their muskets on theirknees, right hands covering the flints and pans.
As the distance slowly increased between us and the troop-boats, Ibegan to breathe more freely. Mount stood by his horse, coolly chewinga straw from the wadded oar-locks, his fox-skin cap pushed back on hishead, the fluffy tail blowing wildly in the wind.
Slowly the dark shore took shape before us; already I could smell theland smell, and hear the wind among the reeds.
Oh, the happiness to be free from that prison city, lying there in thegloom across the water!--the joy to tread free ground once more, toscent free winds, to move unrestrained across the world again!
Mount, too, was sniffing restlessly at the marsh, wreathed insea-mist; I fancied his eyes glowed in the moonlight like the eyes ofa waiting hound.
Something touched my hand; Shemuel came cowering to my side.
"Courage," I whispered.
"I haf done all I could," he said, in a shaking voice.
"I know that, lad," I muttered.
His wet fingers sought mine.
"I shall nefer be safe no more," he whispered.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I don't know. I shall nefer set foot on shore no more. I don't livelong now, Mr. Cardigan."
He was trembling from head to foot as I laid my hand on his shoulder.
The boatmen had dropped their oars and taken to their poles once more;the tall reeds rustled as our scow drove its square nose into theshallows and grounded with a grating jar. Startled curlews, roundabout us, uttered their querulous cries.
"There's a road swings northwest through the marshes," said Mount,wading out into the water and leading his horse up through the rushes."Follow me, lad. I should know this country from Cobble Hill toCanada."
Foxcroft had mounted; Jack climbed stiffly into his saddle; I threwWarlock around in the reeds, prepared to set foot to stirrup, whenShemuel seized my arm convulsively. A patrol of British light horse,riding in single file, came picking their way down the shore in themoonlight.
Mount and Foxcroft saw them and drew bridles; I slung my legs acrossWarlock, just as they hailed us.
"Get up behind! Quick!" I whispered to Shemuel, watching the horsemenriding towards Mount, who was ahead of Foxcroft.
Shemuel's strength appeared to have left his limbs; he struggled tomount behind me; Warlock, alarmed at his contortions, began to dancerestlessly.
Impatient, I stooped to grasp Shemuel, and I already had him by thecollar when an exclamation and a sudden trampling of horses made meturn my head just in time to see a British officer seize Jack Mountand attempt to drag him from his saddle.
Before I could straighten up, the cavalry were upon us; I saw Foxcroftsnap his pistol, wheel, and gallop into the reeds; I saw Jack Mountfling the officer off and fetch him a cracking blow with the barrel ofhis rifle. Two men rode at me; I raised my rifle with one hand,calling to Shemuel to mount behind me, but the frightened peddlersquirmed out of my clutch and rushed off headlong into the marsh.
A horseman followed him, cursing; the other trooper, mired in therushes, struggled to get at me.
I swung my rifle to my cheek; it flashed in the pan; the brute set hishorse at a gallop, and, leaning forward, deliberately shot at theunarmed peddler. Shemuel dodged, ran a few yards, doubled on thehorseman, and came rushing back towards Mount. He gained a littlehillock of rising ground; he could have escaped into the fringingwillows, but, to my horror, he turned and waved his arms to me,shouting:
"Ride! Ride! Mr. Cardigan! For Miss Warren's sake, ride, sir!"
"Touch that man and I'll brain you!" I roared at the horseman who hadnow drawn his sabre.
Again I tried to shoot the trooper, but the flint sparks died out inthe damp pan. With a groan I rode after him, calling out to Shemuel toseek cover in the brush, but he only ran about on his hillock, dodgingthe infuriated trooper, and calling frantically to me that I must savemyself for Miss Warren's sake.
Then, while my horse was floundering in the marsh, slowly drawing hismired limbs to firm ground, I saw Shemuel dart towards me with ashriek, and, ere I could reach him, I saw the trooper bend down fromhis saddle and slash the poor, frightened creature's head with oneterrible blow of his heavy sabre.
Down into the mud plunged Shemuel; the trooper's horse trampled andpassed over his body, then swung in a rushing circle and bore down onme, just as the other rider came splashing at me from the right.
My rifle a third time flashed in the pan; the priming had been wetwith spray. I struck Warlock on the flanks, whirled him head onagainst Shemuel's murderer, and, whipping out my war-hatchet, aimed afurious blow at the fellow's head. The keen hatchet blade sank intothe trooper's shoulder; he tumbled out of his stirrups and landedheavily among the cat-tails.
Instantly I checked Warlock, poised myself in my stirrups, andlaunched the hatchet straight at the other horseman, striking him fullin the chest, but whether with blade-edge, handle, or flat, I knownot, for, as his horse swerved wide, passing me at a tearing gallop,Mount and Foxcroft flew past, calling out that Shemuel was dead andthat I must follow them for my life.
Up the shore we crashed through the rushes, driving straight out intothe marsh, our horses floundering, and the light horsemen firing theirpistols at us from the firmer ground above.
A ball grazed Warlock; his neck was wet with blood.
"They'll murder us all here!" cried Foxcroft; "charge them, in God'sname!"
Mount heard hi
m and bore to the left; I followed; knee to knee welifted our crazed horses out of the marsh and hurled them into thelittle patrol of light horse, bursting upon them ere they could wheelto meet us.
In the moonlight their sabres flashed before our eyes, but no lungingpoint found its billet of flesh, though their blades rang out on ourrifle-barrels; then we were on them, among them, plunging throughthem, and pounding away northward over a hard gravel road.
They discharged their pistols at us; a few of them followed us, butall pursuit ceased below Prospect Hill; we galloped, unmolested, intothe old Charlestown and West Cambridge Road, and flew onward throughthe night.
In lonely stretches of road, which ran rivers of moonlight, I couldsee Mount riding, head on his breast, square jaw set, and I knew hewas brooding on Shemuel's dismal end.
The swift murder of the little peddler shocked me terribly; Shemuel'sstrange premonition of his own approaching death fairly made me shiverin my stirrups as I rode. Like a doomed man the Jew had gone to hisend, with what courage God had lent him. He had been a friend to me.For all his squalid weakness of limb, his natural fear of pain, hisphysical cowardice, he had not swerved from the service of hiscountry, nor had he faltered or betrayed the confidence of men whoseperil imperilled himself. Nothing save his fidelity to us had forcedhim to leave the city with us; nothing save the innate love of libertyin his grotesque and dirty body had lured this errant child of Israelto risk his life in bearing messages for those who watched theweighted hours creep on towards that bloody dawn already gatheringunder the edges of the sleeping world.
Now, as we rode, from behind us the sound of bells came quaveringacross dim meadows; out of the blue night bells answered; we heard thereports of guns, the distant clamour of a horn blowing persistentlyfrom some hidden hamlet.
"The alarm!" panted Foxcroft, at my elbow, as we pounded on. "Hurrah!Hurrah! The country lives!"
"Jack!" I called, through the rushing wind, "the whole land is awakingbehind us! Do you hear? Our country lives!"
"And England dies!" cried Mount, passionately. With both handsuplifted, and bridle flung across his horse's neck, he galloped in thelead. On his huge horse, towering up in the saddle, he swept onthrough the night, a gigantic incarnation of our people militant, acolossal shape embodying all that we had striven for and suffered forfrom the hour when the first pioneer died at the stake.
On he swept astride his rushing horse, the fox-tail on his capstreaming, the thrums on his sleeves blowing like ripe grain; and everhe tossed his arms towards the sky and shook his glittering rifleabove his head, till the moonshine played on it like lightning.
"Ring! Ring out your bells!" we shouted, as we tore through a sleepingvillage; and behind us we could see candle-light break out from thedark houses, and, ere the volleying echoes of our horses' hoofs struckthe last spark from the village streets, the meeting-house bell beganswinging, warning the distant farms that the splendid hour had come.
And now, unexpectedly, we encountered a check in our course. Full inthe yellow moonlight, on a little hill over which our road lay, wecaught sight of a body of horsemen drawn up, and we knew, by the moonshining on their gorgets, that we had before us a company of dragoonswith their officers.
At a word from Jack I dismounted and pulled the rails from the roadfence on our right. Through the aperture we filed, out into a field ofyoung winter wheat well sprouted, and then west, as quietly as wemight, with watchful eyes on the dragoons.
But the British horsemen had also turned, and were now trotting alongparallel to our course, which manoeuvre drove us off eastward againacross the meadows, deep starred with dandelions. For us to alarmLexington was now impossible. We could already see the liberty-pole onthe hill and make out where the village lay, by a gilt weather-vaneshining in the moonlight above the trees. But there were no lights tobe seen in Lexington, and we dared not ride through the dark town, notknowing but that it might be swarming with dragoons.
Still, if it were impossible for us to alarm Lexington, we could rideon across the fields and gain the Bedford Road.
Mr. Foxcroft undertook to pilot us. As I rode by his side I couldscarce believe that, yonder, close at hand in the darkness, SilverHeels slept, nor doubted that I was near. My heart began a-drumming.
"You are sure she is there?" I asked, plucking Foxcroft's sleeve.
"Unless Captain Butler has prevailed," he said, grimly.
I choked and trembled in my saddle.
"Do you--do you believe she would listen to him?" I muttered.
"Do you?" he asked, turning on me.
We forced our horses through a belt of tasselled willows fringing alittle thread of a meadow stream. The dew showered our faces like aflurry of rain. My cheeks were burning.
"How far is it? Are we near her house?" I asked again and again. Istrove to realize that I was nearing Silver Heels; I could not, norwas I able to understand that I should ever again see her.
In moments of my imprisonment I had believed devoutly that I shouldlive to see her; yet since my deliverance from that cage of stones Ihad not dared assure myself that I should find her; I had not givenmyself time to think of the chances that might favour me or of thepossibilities of failure. Dormant among my bitter memories lay thatvile threat of Walter Butler; I dared not stir it up to examine it; Ilet it lie quiet, afraid to rouse it. By what hellish art could he, mymortal enemy, inspire aught but hatred in the woman who had loved meand who must have known how I had suffered at his hands?
Yet, if he had not lied to me, she had at least given him an audience.But his boast that she had consented to fix a day to wed with him Ibelieved not, deeming it but a foolish attempt at cruelty on a manwho, truly enough, at that time, seemed doomed to die upon the gibbetbehind Queen Street court-house.
We now came to a stony pasture in which cattle lay, turning theirheavy heads in the dim light to watch us. I dismounted to let down thebars. In vain I looked for a house; there were no lights to be seen.
Foxcroft moved slowly; I nearly rode him down in my rising anxiety,now almost beyond control.
At length, however, he discovered a narrow, overgrown lane, lined withhazel, and we turned into it, single file, leading our horses. Thelane conducted us to an orchard, all silvery in the moonbeams, andnow, through the long rows of trees, I saw the moon shining on theportico of a white mansion.
"Is that the house?" I whispered.
Foxcroft nodded.
We led our horses through a weedy garden up to the pillared portico.Even in the moonlight I could see the neglect and decay that lay overhouse and grounds. In the pale light clusters of yellow jonquilspeeped from the tangle about the doorsteps; an owl left a hemlock treewith a whistle of broad wings and wheeled upward, squealing fiercely.
And now, as I leaped to the porch, I became aware of a light in thehouse. It streamed from a chink in the wooden shutters which wereclosed over the window to the right of the door.
Foxcroft saw it; so did Mount; we tied our hard-blown horses to thefluted wooden pillars, and, stepping to the door, rapped heavily.
The hard beating of my heart echoed the rapping; intense silencefollowed.
After a long time, pattering, uncertain steps sounded inside thehallway; a light, dim at first, grew brighter above the fanlight overthe door.
The door opened to its full width; the candle flared in the draught ofnight wind, smoked, flickered, then burned steadily. A little, old manstood in the hallway; his huge shadow wavered beside him on the wall.
It was the Weasel!
The cuffs of his coat, guiltless of lace, were too large for hisshrunken arms; his faded flowered waistcoat hung on his thin body likea sack; yet his hair was curled and powdered over his sunken forehead.On his colourless, wasted face a senile smile flickered; he laid hiswithered hand on his breast and bowed to us, advancing to thethreshold.
With a gesture he welcomed us; he did not speak, but stood theresmiling his aged smile, expectant, silent, the pattern of threadbarecourtesy, the living spe
ctre of hospitality.
"Cade!" whispered Mount, with ashy lips; "Cade, old friend! How cameyou here?"
The Weasel's meaningless eyes turned on Mount; there was no light ofrecognition in them.
"You are welcome, sir," said Renard, in the ghost of his old voice. "Ipray you enter, gentlemen; we keep open house, ah yes!--an old customin our family, gentlemen--you are welcome to Cambridge Hall, believeme, most welcome."
The thin, garrulous chatter awoke petulant echoes through the silenthall; he raised his childish voice and called out the names ofservants, long dead. The hollow house replied in echoes; thecandle-flame burned steadily.
"My servants are doubtless in their hall," he said, withoutembarrassment; "that the office of hospitality devolves on me I mustcount most fortunate. Pray, gentlemen, follow. The grooms will takeyour horses to the stables."
Leading us into a room, where were a few chairs set close to a small,shabby card-table, he begged us to be seated with a kindly smile, thenseated himself, and fell a-babbling of ancient days, and of peoplelong since in their graves, of his kennels and stables, of the dayswhen the world was younger, and hearts simpler, and true men lovedtheir King.
Nor could we check him, for he would smile and talk of the fleet inthe downs, and the fete to be given in Boston town when Sir PeterWarren and his old sea-dogs landed to dine at Province House. And allthe while Jack Mount sat staring with tear-smeared eyes, and lipsa-quiver, and great fists clasped convulsively; and Foxcroft leaned,elbow on knee, keen eyes watching the little madman who sat serenelybabbling of a household and a wife and a life that existed only in hisstricken brain.
His wines he brought us in cracked glasses--clear water from a springthat was older than human woe, but, like his hospitality, unfailing.
At intervals he spoke to empty space, as though servants waited at hisback; and it was the "Blue Room" for Mr. Foxcroft, and the "SouthChamber" for "you, sir, Captain Mount, I believe, of his Majesty'sGrenadiers?" Oh, it was heart-breaking to see the agony in Mount'seyes and the ghastly by-play of the little, withered man, the light ofwhose mind had gone out, leaving a stricken body to be directed by thespirit of a child.
Never shall I forget that candle-lit scene as I saw it: Mount, dumbwith grief, sitting there in his buckskins, rifle on knee and fox-skincap twisted in his great brown hands; Foxcroft, his black smallssplashed with clay, his heavy, red face set in careworn lines; and thelittle, shabby Weasel, in his mended finery, shrunken fingersinterlocked on his knee, smiling vacantly at us over a cracked glassof spring-water, and dispensing hospitality with a mild benevolencewhich was truly ghastly in its unconscious irony.
"What in God's name is he doing here?" I whispered to Foxcroft.
"Quiet," motioned Foxcroft, turning his head to listen. I, too, hadcaught the sound of a light footfall on the stair. Instinctively weall rose; the Weasel, muttering and smiling, ambled to the dark entry.
Then, out of the wavering shadows, into the candle-light, stepped ayoung girl, whose clear hazel eyes met ours with perfect composure.Her face was deadly white; her fingers rested in the Weasel's witheredpalm; she saluted us with a slow, deep reverence, then raised hersteady eyes to mine.
"Silver Heels! Silver Heels!" I whispered.
Her eyes closed for a moment and she quivered from head to foot.
"My daughter, gentlemen," said the Weasel, tenderly; bending, hetouched her fingers with his shrivelled lips, smiling to himself.
Her gray eyes never left mine; I stepped forward; she gave a littlegasp as I took her hand.
"Who is this young man?" said the Weasel, mildly. "He is not CaptainButler, dear--or my memory fails--ay," he babbled on, "it fails mestrangely now, and I had best sit quiet while younger heads think forme. Yet, this young man is not Captain Butler, dear?"
"No, father."
In the silence I heard my heart beat heavily. A minute passed; theWeasel peered at me with his dim eyes and clasped his daughter's handclosely.
"Silver Heels! Silver Heels!" I cried, with a sob.
"Do you want me--now?" she whispered.
I caught her fiercely in my arms; she hung to me with closed eyes andevery limb a-tremble.
And, as I stood there, with my arms around her, and her face againstmine, far away I heard the measured gallop of a horse on the highway,nearer, nearer, turning now close outside the house, and nowthundering up to the porch.
Instantly Jack Mount glided from the room; Foxcroft, listening,silently drew his pistol; I reached out for my rifle which leanedagainst the chair, and, striking the butt heavily against the floor,glanced at the pan. The rifle had primed itself.
Then I turned smiling to Silver Heels.
"Do you know who is coming?" I asked.
"Yes."
I stepped to the centre of the room; the door opened gently; amotionless shape stood there in the moonlight, the shape of my enemy,Walter Butler.