CHAPTER VIII
THE BLACK COCKADE
It was two o'clock next day when we rode up to the house where theCommittee of Public Safety held its meetings, dismounted, and enteredthe room. Six gentlemen sat at the long table, and the room wascrowded with hangers-on. They were men who stayed behind while theothers went to the war; they fought the fight with their tongues, withwrits of forfeiture for high treason, became great statesmen, and intime aspired to become members of the committee. How the worthy HighSheriff regarded them could be seen by the manner in which he brushedpast them to stand before the committee.
"What right have you to talk of liberty and of freedom, if you willnot fight for it? Why are you not with Howard, Gist, Smallwood, andthe other heroes who are making the name of the Maryland Line ringthrough the army?" he would ask, and they would turn away.
The burly form and dark, swarthy face of the Chairman dominated thecommittee. As we entered and stood before him his dark eyes flashed.
"Do you bring the body of Charles Gordon with you?" he demanded.
"No; I do not. I bring his defiance, instead;" and the High Sheriffdelivered the message of Charles Gordon to the committee.
The committee glanced from one to another, and there was a big stir inthe room. Then the Chairman was on his feet.
"By a thousand devils," he swore, "Charles Gordon shall suffer forthis. I will not stop until the Braes is razed to the ground, and Ihave driven him from the province. He is a Tory and a traitor, and adanger to the peace of the county. He will be up in arms next. Mr.Sheriff, summon a posse and ride to the Braes and bring us the body ofCharles Gordon, dead or alive."
"You will not accept the invitation to go to the Braes yourself,then?" asked the High Sheriff gravely, though there was the suggestionof a smile around the corners of his mouth.
The Chairman hesitated. "No," he said; "it is absolutely necessary forthe welfare of the county of Cecil that we should remain where we areand not engage in any brawls or tumults, for if we are killed who willtake our places?"
"That is true," said the High Sheriff ironically, "but have youconsidered, gentlemen, that Charles Gordon's wife was of theNicholsons of Kent, who, as you know, are the leaders of the patriotsin that county? How will they like it when they hear of your burningsand your razings?"
The Chairman frowned. "You are right," he said; "we must proceed aboutit in a legal way, which is slow but sure. Mr. Clerk, instituteproceedings against Charles Gordon for the forfeiture of his lands forhigh treason, and meanwhile we will publish him throughout theprovince as a Tory and a traitor. We will teach this Charles Gordonand all Tories what it means to contemn the authority and dignity ofthis province and its committee."
And then applause broke out from the crowd; but the High Sheriff, wholeft the room with me, shrugged his shoulders and said: "If they hadhalf of the courage of that Scot they would not be loafing aroundhere, applauding James Rodolph. I am tired of it; I am going to resignand go to the front." He was as good as his word, for that very day heresigned the office of High Sheriff of the county of Cecil, packed hissaddle-bags, gathered some volunteers about him, and rode away to theNorth, becoming in time a noted officer. But it was not until themonth of August of that year that I was ready to follow him and feltequal to the length of the journey. On the night of the day before Itook my departure I called John Cotton and ordered him to saddle Toby.
John Cotton received the order with wide-open eyes, as it was growingsomewhat late.
"Fo' de Lord's sake, Mars Jim, what do you want Toby fo'? It's afterten o'clock."
"Ask no questions, you black rascal, and bring Toby around in ahurry."
Then his eyes fell on a cluster of red roses on my table, and a broadgrin crept from ear to ear.
"Sartin, Mars Jim, sartin;" and he was out of the door before myflying boot could repay the impertinence of that grin. A few minuteslater I slipped out of the house to the stables, and, mounting Toby,was soon riding out of the silent town, having hit that rascal JohnCotton across the shoulders with my whip for the snickering laugh hecould not restrain as I was riding off.
Have you ever ridden by the silent river after the night has fallen,and when it is far advanced? The great trees, rising far above youlike the vaulted arch of a cathedral, overhanging the path down whichyou ride; the smooth flowing waters of the river, the towering darkmass on the farther shore, and over all the glorious moon shiningdown flooding everything with its silvery light, weird and fantastic,glinting now like polished steel upon the waters, now deepening theshadows of the forest, or flooding again with its glorious radiancesome wide and sweeping stretch of water. And then, the unearthlysilence of it all, the mournful howl of the wolf in the hills, and thepiercing shrill cry of the wildcat, like that of a child tortured bythe demons of hell; then the horror of its beauty, its stillness andits loneliness, comes over you; nervous chills become distinctlyapparent, and you put spurs to your horse and ride on more rapidly,and the night is broken first by your whistle and then by your song.So it was, as I rode by the banks of the Elk, that night in earlyAugust, and my voice rang across the waters, as I sang the oldHighland ballad:
The Gordons cam', and the Gordons ran, And they were stark and steady, And aye the word among them a' Was, Gordons, keep you ready.
A ballad that I heard a young girl sing one day not long before. Thusthe length of my ride passed quickly away until Toby felt the softgrass under his feet as I rode silently across the lawn. Her windowwas high, it is true, but it was open to admit the fresh, cool breezefrom the bay, and then I had not thrown quoits in my youth not to beable to surmount so small a difficulty. So I fastened a black cockadeamid the blood-red of the roses, and, rising in my stirrups, threwthem firmly and gently, and saw them rise in the air, top thewindow-sill, and fall with a slight thud upon the floor. I did notwait for more, but turned and rode away; but it seemed to me that as Igained the shadow of the forest and looked back I saw the faintsuggestion of a girlish form standing at the open window. I lookedonce again and rode on.
When morning came, I bade good-bye to my mother, mounted my black coltToby, and rode away to join the Maryland Line, which was marching nowfrom Boston, to meet the British before New York. As that day Icrossed the line into the province of Delaware, I saw nailed to agreat oak the proclamation of the Committee of Public Safety,denouncing Charles Gordon as a Tory and a traitor, and calling uponall persons to have no dealings with him, either in public or private,at their peril. And thus it was at every cross-roads in the county ofCecil, and in all the counties to the south and west, the edict hadgone forth.
Now in Maryland, as I have said before, we love, above all else,courage in a man, and so I rode under the oak, and tore down theproclamation, for I knew the courage of Charles Gordon, Tory though hewas. I knew also that the proceedings of forfeiture had beeninstituted against him in the High Court of the Province, and that ereI set foot on the soil of Maryland again, he would be driven from theprovince, and it was for this that I paid this courtesy to the courageof an enemy, as I left my native plains behind me.
It was a long road for a lad, but the people received me with openarms and urged me on when I told them whither I was riding. Afterseveral days of travelling along the shore of the Delaware and acrossthe low-lying plains of New Jersey, I came to the banks of the Hudson,and saw across the water the great city of New York, its clusteringhouses and steeples. And then it was not long before I was on theferry that conveyed me across the river, and heard the sharp ring ofthe pavement under my horse's feet as I rode toward the great commonwhere lay the encampment of the troops. It was near twelve o'clockwhen I came to the camp of the patriots and asked my way of an officerto the quarters of the Maryland Line.
"You must be a stranger," he said, "or you would know that theMaryland Line always has the place of honour in the camp;" and heshowed me where their quarters lay.
I felt aglow with pride when I heard this tribute to my countrymen. Ithanked him and rode on. A few
minutes later I was among them. Thegreat voice of the Captain was giving me greeting; Dick Ringgold'shand was on my shoulder, as he took charge of me; and many of my kithand kin, old friends and neighbours who belonged to that famouscorps, came forward to greet and welcome me to the camp. Thus, aftermany days of sickness and of travel, I took my place among the men whowere about to face the great storm. True, at the time quiet reignedall along our front, which lay over beyond the heights of Brooklyn;but hot work was soon expected, as the British fleet had been seen inthe offing, and it was only a question of time when the army would belanded and the attack begun.