CHAPTER XII
THE SHAPE IN WHITE
We breakfasted on soupaan, new milk, johnnycake, and troutlings caughtby Colas, who had gone by canoe to the outlet of Hans' Creek bydaylight, after I had awakened him. Which showed me how easily one couldescape from the Summer House, in spite of guards patrolling the neck andmainland road.
We were four at table; Lady Johnson, Claudia, Penelope, and I; and allseemed to be in better humour, for Claudia's bright eyes were everroaming toward the Continental camp, where smart officers passed andrepassed in the bright sunlight; and Lady Johnson did not conceal herincreasing conviction that Sir John had got clean away; which,naturally, pleased the poor child mightily;--and Penelope, who hadoffered very simply to serve us at table, sat silent and contented bythe civil usage she received from Polly Johnson, who told her verysweetly that her place was in a chair and not behind it.
"For," said my lady, "a parson's daughter may serve where her heartdirects, but is nowise or otherwise to be unclassed."
"Were I obliged by circumstances to labour for my bread," said Claudia,"would you still entertain honourable though ardent sentiments towardme, Jack?"
Which saucy question I smiled aside, though it irritated me, and oddly,too, because Penelope Grant had heard--though why I should care afarthing for that I myself could not understand.
Lady Johnson laid a hand on Penelope's, who looked up at her with thatshy, engaging smile I had already noticed. And,
"Penelope," said she, "if rumour does not lie, and if all our younggallants do truly gather 'round when you take your knitting to the porchof Cayadutta Lodge, then you should make it very plain to all that youare a parson's daughter as well as servant to Douw Fonda."
"How should I conduct, my lady?"
"Firmly, child. And send any light o' love a-packing at the firstapropos!"
"Oh, lud!" says Claudia, "would you make a nun of her, Polly? Sure thechild must learn----"
"Learn to take care of herself," quoth Polly Johnson tartly. "You havebeen schooled from childhood, Claudia, and heaven knows you have hadopportunities enough to study that beast called man!"
"I love him, too," said Claudia. "Do you, Penelope?"
"Men please me," said the Scotch girl shyly. "I do not think thembeasts."
"They bite," snapped Lady Johnson.
"Slap them," said Claudia,--"and that is all there is to it."
"You think any man ever has been tamed and the beast cast out of him,even after marriage?" demanded Lady Johnson. She smiled, but I caughtthe undertone of bitterness in her gaiety, poor girl!
"Before marriage," said Claudia coolly, "man is exactly as treacherousas he is afterward;--no more so, no less. What about it? You take thecreature as he is fashioned by his Maker, or you drive him away and livelife like a cloistered nun. What is your choice, Penelope?"
"I have no passion for a cloister," replied the girl, so candidly thatall laughed, and she blushed prettily.
"That is best," nodded Claudia; "accept the creature as he is. We'refools if we're bitten before we're married, and fortunate if we're notnipped afterward. Anyway, I love men, and so God bless them, for theycan't help being what they are and it's our own fault if they play tooroughly and hurt us."
Lady Johnson laughed and laid her hand lightly on my shoulder.
"Dear Jack," said she, "we do not mean you, of course."
"Oho!" cried Claudia, "it's in 'em all and crops out one day. JackDrogue is no tamer than the next man. Nay, I know the sort--meek as amouse among petticoats----"
"Claudia!" protested Lady Johnson.
"I hear you, Polly. But when I solemnly swear to you that I have beenafraid of this young man----"
"Afraid of what?" said I, smiling at her audacity, but vexed, too.
"Afraid you might undo me, Jack----"
"What!"
"--And then refuse me an honest name----"
"What mad nonsense do you chatter!" exclaimed Lady Johnson, out ofcountenance, yet laughing at Claudia's effrontery. And Penelope,abashed, laughed a little, too. But Claudia's nonsense madded me, thoughher speech had been no broader than was fashionable among a gentry soclosely in touch with London, where speech, and manners, too, werebroader still.
Vexed to be made her silly butt, I sat gazing out of the window, overthe great Vlaie, where, in the reeds, tall herons stood as stiff asdriven stakes, and the painted wood-ducks, gorgeous as tropic birds,breasted Mayfield Creek, or whirred along the waterways to and frobetween the Stacking Ridge and the western bogs, where they nested amongtrees that sloped low over the water.
Beyond, painted blue mountains ringed the vast wilderness of bog andwoods and water; and presently I was interested to see, on the bluntnose of Maxon, a stain of smoke.
I watched it furtively, paying only a civil heed to the women's chatteraround me--watched it with sideway glance as I dipped my spoon into thesmoking soupaan and crumbled my johnnycake.
At first, on Maxon's nose there was only a slight blue tint of vapour,like a spot of bloom on a blue plum. But now, above the mountain, a thinstreak of smoke mounted straight up; and presently I saw that it becamejetted, rising in rings for a few moments.
Suddenly it vanished.
Claudia was saying that one must assume all officers of either party tobe gentlemen; but Lady Johnson entertained the proposition coldly, andseemed unwilling to invite Continental officers to a dish of tea.
"Not because they are my captors and have driven my husband out of hisown home," she said haughtily; "I could overlook that, because it is thefortune of war. But it is said that the Continental officers are aparcel of Yankee shop-keepers, and I have no desire to receive suchpeople on equal footing."
"But," said Claudia, "Jack is a rebel officer, and so is BillyAlexander."
"I think Lord Stirling must be crazy," retorted Lady Johnson. Then shelooked at me, bit her lip and laughed, adding:
"You, too, Jack--and every gentleman among you must be mad to flout ourKing!"
"Mad, indeed--and therefore to be pitied, not punished," says Claudia."Therefore, let us drink tea with our rebel officers, Polly--out ofsheer compassion for their common infirmity."
"We rebels don't drink tea, you know," said I, smiling.
"Oh, la! Wait till we invite your Continentals yonder. For, if Polly andI are to be imprisoned here, I vow I mean to amuse myself with thelikeliest of these young men in blue and buff, whom I can see yonder,stalking to and fro along the Johnstown Road. May I not send them acivil invitation, Polly?"
"If you insist. I, however, decline to meet them," pouted Lady Johnson.
"I shall write a little letter to their commanding officer," quothClaudia. "Do as you like, Polly, but, as for me, I do not desire toperish of dullness with only women to talk to, and only a swamp to gazeupon!"
She sprang to her feet; Lady Johnson and Penelope also rose, as did I.
"Is it true, Jack, that you are under promise to take this young girl toDouw Fonda's house in Caughnawaga?" asked Lady Johnson.
"Yes, madam."
She turned to Penelope: "When do you desire to set out?"
"As soon as may be, my lady."
"I like you. I wish you would remain and share my loneliness."
"I would, my lady, only I feel in honour bound to go to Mr. Fonda."
Claudia passed her arm around the Scottish girl's slim waist.
"Come," she coaxed, "be my companion! Be more friend than servant, moresister than friend. For I, also, begin to love you, with your dark eyesand yellow hair, and your fine hands and sweet, fresh skin, like a childfrom a bath."
They both laughed, looking at each other with a gaze shy but friendly,like two who seem to think they are, perhaps, destined to love eachother.
"I wish I might remain," said the Scottish girl, reluctantly turningtoward me.
"Are you for Caughnawaga?" I asked bluntly.
"Yes, sir."
"Very well," said I. "Polly Johnson, may I take your carriage?"
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sp; "It is always at your command, Jack. But I am sorry that our littleScottish lass must go."
However, she gave the order to black Colas, who must drive us, also,because, excepting for Colas and poor Flora, and one slave left inJohnstown, all servants, slaves, tenants, and officers of Sir John'shousehold had fled with the treacherous Baronet and were now God knowswhere in the terrific wilderness and making, without doubt, for theCanadas.
For personal reasons I was glad that the dishonoured man was gone. Ishould have been ashamed to take him prisoner. But I was deeply troubledon other accounts; for this man had gone northward with hundreds of myold neighbors, for the purpose of forming an army of white men andIndians, with which he promised to return and cut our throats and layour beautiful countryside in ashes.
We had scarce any force to oppose Sir John; no good forts except Stanwixand a few block-houses; our newly-organized civil government waschaotic; our militia untried, unreliable, poorly armed, and still rottenwith toryism.
To defend all this immense Tryon County frontier, including the river asfar as Albany, only one regular regiment had been sent to help us; forwhat remained of the State Line was needed below, where His Excellencywas busy massing an army to face the impending thunder-clap fromEngland.
* * * * *
As I stood by the window, looking out across the Vlaie at Maxon Ridge,where I felt very sure that hostile eyes were watching the Sacandaga andthis very house, a hand touched my arm, and, turning, I saw PenelopeGrant beside me.
"May I have a word alone with you, Mr. Drogue?" she asked in her seriousand graver way--a way as winning as her lighter mood, I thought.
So we went out to the veranda and walked a little way among the appletrees, slowly, I waiting to hear what she had for my ear alone.
Beyond, by the well, I saw my Rangers squatting cross-legged on thegrass in a little circle, playing at stick-knife. Beyond them aContinental soldier paced his beat in front of the gate which closed themainland road.
Birds sang, sunshine glimmered on the water, the sky was softly blue.
The girl had paused under a fruit tree. Now, she pulled down an applebranch and set her nose to the blossoms, breathing their fresh scent.
"Well," said I, quietly.
Her level eyes met mine across the flowering branch.
"I am sorry to disturb you," said she.
"How disturb me?"
"By obliging you to take me to Caughnawaga. It inconveniences you."
"I promised to see you safely there, and that is all about it," said Idrily.
"Yes, sir. But I ask your pardon for exacting your promise.... And--Iask pardon for--for stealing your horse."
There seemed to ensue a longer silence than I intended, and I realizedthat I had been looking at her without other thought than of her dark,young eyes under her yellow hair.
"What did you say?" I asked absently.
She hesitated, then: "You do not like me, Mr. Drogue."
"Did I say so?" said I, startled.
"No.... I feel that you do not like me. Is it because I used you withoutdecency when I stole your horse?"
"Perhaps some trifling chagrin remains. But it is now over--because yousay you are sorry."
"I am so."
"Then--I am friendly--if you so desire, Penelope Grant."
"Yes, sir, I do desire your countenance."
I smiled at her gravity, and saw, dawning in return, that lovely,child's smile I already knew and waited for.
"I wish to whisper to you," said she, bending the flowering bough lower.
So I inclined my ear across it, and felt her delicate breath against mycheek.
"I wish to make known to you that I am of your party, Mr. Drogue," shewhispered.
I nodded approval.
"I wished you to know that I am a friend to liberty," she continued. "Mysentiment is very ardent, Mr. Drogue: I burn with desire to serve thisland, to which my father's wish has committed me. I am young, strong,not afraid. I can load and shoot a pistol----"
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, laughing, "do you wish to enlist and go for asoldier?"
"Yes, sir."
I drew back in amazement and looked at her, and she blushed but made mea firm countenance. And so sweetly solemn a face did this maid pull atme that I could not forbear to laugh again.
"But how about Mr. Fonda?" I demanded, "if you don jack-boots and hangerand go for a dragoon?"
"I shall ask his permission to serve my country."
"A-horse, Penelope? Or do you march with fire-lock and knapsack and awell-floured queue?" I had meant to turn it lightly but not to ridicule;but her lip quivered, though she still found courage to sustain mylaughing gaze.
"Come," said I, "we Tryon County men have as yet no need to call uponour loyal women to shoulder rifle and fill out our ranks."
"No need of me, sir?"
"Surely, surely, but not yet to such a pass that we strap a bayonet onyour thigh. Sew for us. Knit for us----"
"Sir, for three years I have done so, foreseeing this hour. I haveknitted many, many score o' stockings; sewed many a shirt against thisday that is now arrived. I have them in Mr. Fonda's house, against mycountry's needs. All, or a part, are at your requisition, Mr. Drogue."
But I remained mute, astonished that this girl had seen so clearly whatso few saw at all--that war must one day come between us and our King.This foreseeing of hers amazed me even more than her practical provisionfor the day of wrath--now breaking red on our horizon--that she had seenso clearly what must happen--a poor refugee--a child.
"Sir," says she, "have you any use for the stockings and shirts amongyour men?"
She stood resting both arms on the bent bough, her face among theflowers. And I don't know how I thought of it, or remembered that inScotland there are some who have the gift of clear vision and who seeevents before they arrive--nay, even foretell and forewarn.
And, looking at her, I asked her if that were true of her. And saw thetint of pink apple bloom stain her face; and her dark eyes grow shy andtroubled.
"Is it that way with you?" I repeated. "Do you see more clearly thanordinary folk?"
"Yes, sir--sometimes."
"Not always?"
"No, sir."
"But if you desire to penetrate the future and strive to do so----"
"No, sir, I can not if I try. Visions come unsought--even undesired."
"Is effort useless?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then this strange knowledge of the future comes of itself unbidden?"
"Unbidden--when it comes at all. It is like a flash--then darkness. Butthe glimpse has convinced me, and I am forewarned."
I pondered this for a space, then:
"Could you tell me anything concerning how this war is to end?"
"I do not know, Mr. Drogue."
I considered. Then, again: "Have you any knowledge of what Fate intendsconcerning yourself?"
"No, sir."
"Nothing regarding your own future? That is strange."
She shook her head, watching me. And then I laughed lightly:
"Nothing, by any chance, concerning me, Penelope?"
"Yes."
I was so startled that I found no word to question her.
"There is to be a battle," she said in a low voice. "Men will fight inthe North. I do not know when. But there will be strange uniforms in thewoods--not British red-coats.... And I know you, also, are to be there."Her voice sank to a whisper.... "And there," she breathed, "you shallmeet Death ... or Love."
When presently my composure returned to me, and I saw her stillregarding me across the apple-bough, I felt inclined to laugh.
"When did this strange knowledge come to you?" I asked, smiling myunbelief.
"The day I first heard your voice at my cousin Bowman's--waking me in mybed--and I came out and saw you in the eye of the rising sun. _And youwere not alone._ And instantly I saw a strange battle that is not yetfought--and I saw you--the way you stood--ther
e--dark and straight in ablinding sheet of yellow light made by cannon!... The world was aflame,and I saw you, tall and dark, shadowed against the blaze--but you didnot fall.
"Then I came to my senses, and heard the bell ringing, and asked youwhat it meant. Do you remember?"
"Yes."
She released the apple-bough and came under it toward me, through a snowof falling blossoms.
"It will surely happen--this battle," she said. "I knew it when I sawyou, and that other figure near you, where I sat your stolen horse andheard you shout at me in anger, and turned to look at you--then, also, Icaught a glimpse of that _other_ figure near you."
"What other figure?"
"The one which was wrapped in white--like a winding sheet--andveiled.... Like Death.... Or a bride, perhaps."
A slight chill went over me, even in the warmth of the sun. But Ilaughed and said I knew not which would be the less welcome, having nostomach for Master Death, and even less, perhaps, for Mistress Bride.
"Doubtless," said I, "you saw some ghost of the morning mist afloat fromthe wet earth where I stood."
She made no answer.
Now, as the carriage still tarried, though I had seen Colas taking outthe horses, I asked her indulgence for a few moments, and walked over tothe well, where my men still sat at stick-knife. And here I called Nickaside and laid one hand on his shoulder:
"There was Indian smoke on Maxon an hour ago," said I. "Take JohnnySilver and travel the war trail north, but do not cross the creek to theeast. I go as armed escort for a traveller to Caughnawaga, and shallreturn as soon as may be. Learn what you can and meet me here by sunrisetomorrow."
Nick grinned and cast a sidelong glance at Penelope Grant, where shestood in the orchard, watching us.
"Scotched by the Scotch," said he. "Adam fell; and so I knew you'd fallone day, John--in an apple orchard! Lord Harry! but she's a prettybaggage, too! Only take care, John! for she's soft and young and likesto be courted, and there's plenty to oblige her when you're away!"
"Let them oblige her then," said I, vexed, though I knew not why. "Shestole my horse and would not surrender him until I pledged my word togive her escort back to Caughnawaga. And that is all my story--if itinterests you."
"It does so," said he, his tongue in his cheek. At which I turned awayin a temper, and encountered an officer, in militia regimentals of theCaughnawaga Regiment, coming through the orchard toward me.
"Hallo, Jack!" he called out to me, and I saw he was a friend of mine,Major Jelles Fonda, and hastened to offer him his officer's salute.
When he had rendered it, he gave me his honest hand, and we linked armsand walked together toward the house, exchanging gossip concerning howit went with our cause in Johnstown and Caughnawaga. For the Fonda clanwas respectable and strong among the landed gentry of Tryon, and itmeant much to the cause of liberty that all the Fondas, I think withoutexception, had stood sturdily for their own people at a time when thevast majority of the influential and well-to-do had stood for theirKing.
When we drew near the house, Major Fonda perceived Penelope and went atonce to her.
She dropped him a curtsey, but he took her hands and kissed her on bothcheeks.
"I heard you were here," said he. "We sent old Douw Fonda to Albany forsafety, not knowing what is like to come upon us out o' that damnedCanada. And, knowing you had gone to your cousin Bowman's, I rode overto my Bush, got news of you through a Mayfield militia man, and trailedyou here. And now, my girl, you may take your choice; go to Albany andsit snug with the Patroon until this tempest breaks and blows over, orgo to Johnstown Fort with me."
"Does not Douw Fonda need me?" she asked.
"Only your pretty face and sweet presence to amuse him. But, until weare certain that Sir John and Guy Johnson do not mean to return andmurder us in our beds, Douw Fonda will not live in Caughnawaga, and soneeds no housekeeper."
"Why not remain here with Lady Johnson and Mistress Swift," said I,"until we learn what to expect from Sir John and his friends in Canada?These ladies are alone and in great anxiety and sorrow. And you could beof aid and service and comfort."
What made me say this I do not know. But, somehow, I did not seem towish this girl to go to Albany, where there were many gay young men andmuch profligacy.
To sit on Douw Fonda's porch with her knitting was one thing, and thesap-pan gallants had little opportunity to turn the head of thisinexperienced girl; but Albany was a very different matter; and thismaid, who said that she liked men, alone there with only an aged man tostand between her and idle, fashionable youth, might very easily be ledinto indiscretions. The mere thought of which caused me so lively avexation that I was surprised at myself.
And now I perceived the carriage, with horses harnessed, and Colas in ared waistcoat and a red and green cockade on his beaver.
We walked together to the Summer House. Lady Johnson came out on theveranda, and Claudia followed her.
When they saw Major Fonda, they bowed to him very coolly, and he madethem both a stately salute, shrugged his epaulettes, and took snuff.
Lady Johnson said to Penelope: "Are you decided on abandoning two lonelywomen to their own devices, Penelope?"
"Do you really mean to leave me, who could love you very dearly?"demanded Claudia, coming down and taking the girl by both hands.
"If you wish it, I am now at liberty to remain with you till Mr. Fondasends for me," replied Penelope. "But I have no clothes."
Claudia embraced her with rapture. "Come to my room, darling!" shecried, "and you shall divide with me every stitch I own! And then weshall dress each other's hair! Shall we not? And we shall be very fineto drink a dish of tea with our friends, the enemy, yonder!"
She flung her arm around Penelope. Going, the girl looked around at me."Thank you for great kindness, my lord," she called back softly.
Lady Johnson said in a cold voice to Major Fonda: "If our misfortuneshave not made us contemptible to you, sir, we are at home to receive anyenemy officer who, like yourself, Major, chances to be also agentleman."
"Damnation, Polly!" says he with a short laugh, "don't treat an old beauto such stiff-neck language! You know cursed well I'd go down on bothknees and kiss your shoes, though I'd kick the King's shins if I methim!"
He passed his arm through mine; we both bowed very low, then went awaytogether, arm in arm, the Major fuming under his breath.
"Silly baggage," he muttered, "to treat an old friend so high andmighty. Dash it, what's come over these Johnstown gentlemen and ladies.Can't we fight one another politely but they must affect to treat us asdirt beneath their feet, who once were welcome at their tables?"
At the well I called to my men, who got up from the grass and greetedMajor Fonda with unmilitary familiarity.
"Major," said I, "we're off to scout the Sacandaga trail and learn whatwe can. It's cold sniffing, now, on Sir John's heels, but there wasIroquois smoke on old Maxon this morning, and I should like at least topoke the dead ashes of that same fire before moonrise."
"Certainly," said the Major, gravely; and we shook hands.
"Now, Nick," said I briskly.
"Ready," said he; and "Ready!" repeated every man.
So, rifle a-trail, I led the way out into the Fish House road.