CHAPTER VIII.
Nearly midway between Elliott's and Hartley's points, both of which areremarkable for the low and sandy nature of the soil, the land, raisinggradually towards the centre, assumes a more healthy and arable aspect;and, on its highest elevation, stood a snug, well cultivated property,called Girty's farm. From this height, crowned on its extreme summit bya neat and commodious farm-house, the far reaching sands, forming thepoints above-named, are distinctly visible. Immediately in the rear, andcommencing beyond the orchard which surrounded the house, stretchedforestward, and to a considerable distance, a tract of rich andcultivated soil, separated into strips by zig-zag enclosures, andoffering to the eye of the traveller, in appropriate season, the severalspecies of American produce, such as Indian corn, buck wheat, &c., withhere and there a few patches of indifferent tobacco. Thus far of theproperty, a more minute description of which is unimportant. Theproprietors of this neat little place were a father and son, to thelatter of whom was consigned, for reasons which will appear presently,the sole management of the farm. Of him we will merely say that, at theperiod of which we treat, he was a fine, strapping, dark curley-haired,white-teethed, red-lipped, broad-shouldered, and altogether comely andgentle tempered youth, of about twenty, who had, although unconsciously,monopolized the affections of almost every well favored maiden of hisclass, for miles around him--advantages of nature from which hadresulted a union with one of the prettiest of the fair competitors forconnubial happiness.
The father we may not dismiss so hastily. He was--but, before attemptingthe portraiture of his character, we will, in the best of our ability,sketch his person.
Let the reader fancy an old man of about sixty, possessed of thatcomfortable amptitude of person which is the result rather of a mind atpeace with itself, and undisturbed by worldly care, than of any markedindulgence in indolent habits. Let him next invest this comfortableperson in a sort of Oxford grey, coarse capote, or frock, of capacioussize, tied closely round the waist with one of those-parti-coloredworsted sashes, we have, on a former occasion described as peculiar tothe bourgeois settlers of the country. Next, suffering the eye todescend on and admire the rotund and fleshy thigh, let it drop graduallyto the stout and muscular legs, which he must invest in a pair ofclosely fitting leathern trowsers, the wide-seamed edges of which areslit into innumerable small strips, much after the fashion of theAmerican Indian. When he has completed the survey of the lowerextremities, to which he must not fail to subjoin a foot ofproportionate dimensions, tightly moccasined, and, moreover, furnishedwith a pair of old English hunting spurs, the reader must then examinethe head with which this heavy piece of animated machinery issurmounted. From beneath a coarse felt hat, garnished with an inch-wideband or ribbon, let him imagine he sees the yet vigorous grey hair,descending over a forehead not altogether wanting in a certain dignityof expression, and terminating in a beetling brow, silvered also withthe frost of years, and shadowing a sharp, grey, intelligent eye, thevivacity of whose expression denotes its possessor to be far in advance,in spirit, even of his still active and powerful frame. With these mustbe connected a snub nose--a double chin, adorned with grizzly honors,which are borne, like the fleece of the lamb, only occasionally to theshears of the shearer--and a small, and not unhandsome, mouth, atcertain periods pursed into an expression of irresistible humor, butmore frequently expressing a sense of lofty independence. The grislyneck, little more or less bared, as the season may demand--a kerchiefloosely tied around the collar of a checkered shirt--and a knottedcudgel in his hand--and we think our sketch of Simon Girty is complete.
Nor must the reader picture to himself this combination of animalproperties, either standing, or lying, or walking, or sitting; but in ameasure glued, Centaur-like, to the back of a noble stallion, vigorous,active, and of a dark chestnut color, with silver mane and tail. In thecourse of many years that Simon had resided in the neighborhood, no onecould remember to have seen him stand, or lie, or walk, or sit, whileaway from his home, unless absolutely compelled. Both horse and riderseemed as though they could not exist while separated, and yetSilvertail (thus was the stallion named) was not more remarkable insleekness of coat, soundness of carcase, and fleetness of pace, than hisrider was in the characteristics of corpulency and joviality.
Simon Girty had passed the greater part of his younger days in America.He had borne arms in the revolution, and was one of those faithfulloyalists, who preferring rather to abandon a soil which, after all, wasone of adoption, than the flag under which they had been nurtured, had,at the termination of that contest, passed over into Canada. Havingserved in one of those irregular corps, several of which had beenemployed with the Indians, during the revolutionary contest, he hadacquired much of the language of these latter, and to this knowledge wasindebted for the situation of interpreter which he had for yearsenjoyed. Unhappily for himself, however, the salary attached to theoffice was sufficient to keep him in independence, and, to the idlenessconsequent on this, (for the duties of an interpreter were onlyoccasional,) might have been attributed the rapid growth of a vice--anaddiction to liquor--which unchecked indulgence had now ripened intopositive disease.
Great was the terror that Simon was wont to excite in the good people ofAmherstburg. With Silvertail at his speed he would gallop into the town,brandishing his cudgel, and reeling from side to side, exhibiting at onemoment the joyous character of a Silenus, at another, as we have alreadyshown--that of an inebriated Centaur. Occasionally he would make hisappearance, holding his sides convulsed with laughter, as he reeled andtottered in every direction, but without ever losing his equilibrium. Atother times he would utter a loud shout, and, brandishing his cudgel,dart at full speed along the streets, as if he purposed singly to carrythe town by (what Middlemore often facetiously called) a _coup de main_.At these moments were to be seen mothers rushing into the street to lookfor, and hurry away, their loitering offspring, while even adults wereglad to hasten their movements, in order to escape collision with theformidable Simon; not that either apprehended the slightest act ofpersonal violence from the old man, for he was harmless of evil as achild, but because they feared the polished hoofs of Silvertail, whichshone amid the clouds of dust they raised as he passed, like rings ofburnished silver. Even the very Indians, with whom the streets were atthis period habitually crowded, were glad to hug the sides of thehouses, while Simon passed; and they who, on other occasions, would havedeemed it in the highest degree derogatory to their dignity to havestepped aside at the approach of danger, or to have relaxed a muscle oftheir stern countenance, would then open a passage with a rapidity whichin them was remarkable, and burst into loud laughter as they fled fromside to side to make way for Simon. Sometimes, on these occasions, thelatter would suddenly check Silvertail, while in full career, and, in avoice that could be heard from almost every quarter of the little town,harangue them for half an hour together in their own language, and withan air of authority that was ludicrous to those who witnessed it--andmust have been witnessed to be conceived. Occasionally a guttural "ugh"would be responded in mock approval of the speech, but more frequently alaugh, on the part of the more youthful of his red auditors, was theonly notice taken. His lecture concluded, Simon would again brandish hiscudgel, and vociferate another shout; then betaking himself to thenearest store, he would urge Silvertail upon the footway, and with a tapof his rude cudgel against the door, summon whoever was within, toappear with a glass of his favorite beverage. And this would he repeat,until he had drained what he called his stirrup cup, at every shop inthe place where the poisonous liquor was vended.
Were such a character to make his appearance in the Mother Country,endangering, to all perception, the lives of the Sovereign's liegesubjects, he would, if in London, be hunted to death like a wild beast,by at least one half of the Metropolitan police; and, if in a provincialtown, would be beset by a posse of constables. No one, however--not eventhe solitary constable of Amherstburgh, ever ventured to interfere withSimon Girty, who was in some degree a p
rivileged character. Nay, strangeas it may appear, notwithstanding his confirmed habit of inebriety, theold man stood high in the neighborhood, not only with simple but withgentle, for there were seasons when he evinced himself "a rationalbeing," and there was a dignity of manner about him, which, added to histhen quietude of demeanor, insensibly interested in his favor, thoseeven who were most forward to condemn the vice to which he wasunfortunately addicted. Not, be it understood, that in naming seasons ofrationality, we mean seasons of positive abstemiousness; nor can thiswell be, seeing that Simon never passed a day of strict sobriety duringthe last twenty years of his life. But, it might be said, that his threedivisions of day--morning, noon and night--were characterised by threecorresponding divisions of drunkenness--namely, drunk, drunker, and mostdrunk. It was, therefore, in the first stage of his graduated scale,that Simon appeared in his most amiable and winning, because his leastuproarious, mood. His libations commenced at early morn, and hisinebriety became progressive to the close of the day. To one who couldride home at night, as he invariably did, after some twelve hours ofhard and continued drinking, without rolling from his horse, it wouldnot be difficult to enact the sober man in its earlier stages. As hisintoxication was relative to himself, so was his sobriety in regard toothers--and although, at mid-day, he might have swallowed sufficient tohave caused another man to bite the dust, he looked and spoke, andacted, as if he had been a model of temperance. If he passed a lady inthe street, or saw her at her window Simon Girty's hat was instantlyremoved from his venerable head, and his body inclined forward over hissaddle-bow, with all the easy grace of a well-born gentleman, and oneaccustomed from infancy to pay deference to woman; nay, this at an hourwhen he had imbibed enough of his favorite liquor to have rendered mostmen insensible even to their presence. These habits of courtesy,extended moreover to the officers of the garrison, and such others amongthe civilians as Simon felt to be worthy of his notice. His tones ofsalutation, at these moments, were soft, his manner respectful, evengraceful; and while there was nothing of the abashedness of theinferior, there was also no offensive familiarity, in the occasionalconversations held by him with the different individuals, or groups, whosurrounded and accosted him.
Such was Simon Girty, in the first stage of his inebriety, no outwardsign of which was visible. In the second, his perception became moreobscured, his voice less distinct, his tones less gentle andinsinuating, and occasionally the cudgel would rise in rapid flourish,while now and then a loud halloo would burst from lungs, which theoceans of whiskey they had imbibed had not yet, apparently, muchaffected. These were infallible indices of the more feverish stage, ofwhich the gallopings of Silvertail--the vociferations of his master--theincreasing flourishing of the cudgel--the supposed danger ofchildren--and the consequent alarm of mothers, together with theharangues to the Indian auditory, were the almost daily results.
There was one individual, however, in the town of Amherstburgh, of whom,despite his natural wilfulness of character, Simon Girty stood much inawe, and that to such a degree, that if he chanced to encounter him inhis mad progress, his presence had the effect of immediately quietinghim. This gentleman was the father of the Granthams, who, although thenfilling a civil situation, had formerly been a field officer in thecorps in which Simon had served; and who had carried with him intoprivate life those qualities of stern excellence for which he had beenremarkable as a soldier--qualities which had won to him the respect andaffection, not only of the little community over which, in the capacityof its chief magistrate, he had presided, but also of the inhabitants ofthe country generally for many miles around. Temperate to an extremehimself, Major Grantham held the vice of drunkenness in deservedabhorrence, and so far from sharing the general toleration extended tothe old man, whose originality (harmless as he ever was in hisintoxication,) often proved a motive for encouragement; he never failed,on encountering him, to bestow his censure in a manner that had animmediate and obvious effect on the culprit. If Simon, from one end ofthe street, beheld Major Grantham approaching at the other, he was wontto turn abruptly away; but if perchance the magistrate came sounexpectedly upon him as to preclude the possibility of retreat, heappeared as one suddenly sobered, and would rein in his horse, fullyprepared for the stern lecture which he was well aware would ensue.
It afforded no slight amusement to the townspeople, and particularlythe young urchins, who usually looked up to Simon with awe,to be witnesses of one of those rencontres. In a moment, theshouting--galloping--rampaging cudgel-wielder was to be seen changed, asif by some magic power, into a being of almost child-like obedience,while he listened attentively and deferentially to the lecture of MajorGrantham, whom he both loved and feared. On these occasions, he wouldhang his head upon his chest--confess his error--and promise solemnly toamend his course of life, although it must be needless to add that neverwas that promise heeded. Not unfrequently, after these lectures, whenMajor Grantham had left him, Simon would turn his horse, and, with hisarms still folded across his chest, suffer Silvertail to pursue hishomeward course, while he himself, silent and thoughtful, and lookinglike a culprit taken in the fact, sat steadily in his saddle, withouthowever venturing to turn his eye either to the right or to the left, ashe passed through the crowd, who, with faces strongly expressive ofmirth, marked their sense of the change which had been produced in theold interpreter. Those who had seen him thus for the first time, mighthave supposed that a reformation in one so apparently touched would haveensued; but long experience had taught that, although a twinge ofconscience, or more probably fear of, and respect for, the magistrate,might induce a momentary humiliation, all traces of cause and effectwould have vanished with the coming dawn.
To the sterling public virtues he boasted, Simon Girty united that ofloyalty in no common degree. A more staunch adherent to the Britishcrown existed nowhere in the sovereign's dominions; and such was hisdevotedness to "King George," that, albeit he could not in allpossibility have made the sacrifice of his love for whiskey, he wouldwillingly have suffered his left arm to be severed from his body, hadsuch proof of his attachment to the throne been required. Proportionedto his love for everything British, arose, as a natural consequence,his dislike for everything anti-British; and especially for those whounder the guise of allegiance, had conducted themselves in a way tobecome objects of suspicion to the authorities. A near neighbor ofDesborough, he had watched him as narrowly as his long indulged habitsof intoxication would permit, and he had been the means of conveying toMajor Grantham much of the information which had induced thatuncompromising magistrate to seek the expulsion of the dangeroussettler--an object which, however, had been defeated by the perjury ofthe unprincipled individual, in taking the customary oaths ofallegiance. Since the death of Major Grantham, for whom, notwithstandinghis numerous lectures, he had ever entertained that reverential esteemwhich is the result of the ascendancy of the powerful and virtuous mindover the weak, and not absolutely vicious--and for whose sons he feltalmost a fatherly affection--old Girty had but indifferently troubledhimself about Desborough, who was fully aware of what he had previouslydone to detect and expose him, and consequently repaid with usury--anhostility of feeling which, however, had never been brought to anypractical issue.
As a matter of course, Simon was of the number of anxious personscollected on the bank of the river, on the morning of the capture of theAmerican gun-boat; but, as he was only then emerging from his firststage of intoxication (which we have already shown to be tantamount toperfect sobriety in any other person), there had been no time for adisplay of those uproarious qualities which characterized the last, andwhich, once let loose, scarcely even the presence of the General couldhave restrained. With an acuteness, however, which is often to beremarked in habitual drunkards at moments when their intellect isunclouded by the confusedness to which they are more commonly subject,the hawk's eye of the old man had detected several particulars which hadescaped the general attention, and of which he had, at a later period ofthe day, retained sufficient rec
ollection to connect with an accidental,yet important discovery.
At the moment when the prisoners were landed, he had remarkedDesborough, who had uttered the hasty exclamation already recorded,stealing cautiously through the surrounding crowd, and apparentlyendeavoring to arrest the attention of the younger of the Americanofficers. An occasional pressing of the spur into the flank ofSilvertail, enabled him to turn as the settler turned, and thus to keephim constantly in view; until, at length, as the latter approached thegroup of which General Brock and Commodore Barclay formed the centre, heobserved him distinctly to make a sign of intelligence to the MilitiaOfficer, whose eye he at length attracted, and who now bestowed upon hima glance of hasty and furtive recognition. Curiosity induced Simon tomove Silvertail a little more in advance, in order to be enabled toobtain a better view of the prisoners; but the latter turning away hishead at the moment, although apparently without design, baffled hispenetration. Still he had a confused and indistinct idea that the personwas not wholly unknown to him.
When the prisoners had been disposed of, and the crowd dispersed, Simoncontinued to linger near the council-house, exchanging greetings withthe newly arrived chiefs, and drinking from whatever whiskey bottle wasoffered to him until he at length gave rapid indication of arriving athis third or grand climacteric. Then were to be heard the loudshoutings of his voice, and the clattering of Silvertail's hoofs; ashorse and rider flew like lightning past the fort into the town, where amore than usual quantity of the favorite liquid was quaffed at theseveral stores, in commemoration, as he said, of the victory of hisnoble boy, Gerald Grantham, and to the success of the British armsgenerally throughout the war.
Among the faults of Simon Girty, was certainly not that of neglectingthe noble animal to whom long habit had deeply attached him. Silvertailwas equally a favorite with the son, who had more than once ridden himin the occasional races that took place upon the hard sands of the lakeshore, and in which he had borne everything away. As Simon was everconscious and collected about this hour, care was duly taken by him thathis horse should be fed, without the trouble to himself of dismounting.Even as Girty sat in his saddle, Silvertail was in the daily practice ofmunching his corn out of a small trough that stood in the yard of theinn where he usually stopped, while his rider conversed with whoeverchanced to be near him--the head of his cudgel resting on his amplethigh, and a glass of his favorite whiskey in his other and unoccupiedhand.
Now it chanced that, on this particular day, Simon neglected to pay hiscustomary visit to the inn, an omission which was owing rather to thehurry and excitement occasioned by the stirring events of the morning,than to any wilful neglect of his steed. Nor was it until some hoursafter dark that, seized with a sudden fit of caressing Silvertail, whoseglossy neck he patted, until the tears of warm affection started to hiseyes, he bethought him of the omission of which he had been guilty.Scarcely was the thought conceived, before Silvertail was again at fullcareer, and on his way to the inn. The gate stood open, and, as Simonentered, he saw two individuals retire, as if to escape observation,within a shed adjoining the stable. Drunk as he was, a vagueconsciousness of the truth, connected as it was with his earlierobservation, flashed across the old man's mind; and when, in answer tohis loud hallooing, a factotum, on whom devolved all the numerousofficers of the inn, from waiter down to ostler, made his appearance,Simon added to his loudly expressed demand for Silvertail's corn, awhispered injunction to return with a light. During the absence of theman, he commenced trolling a verse of "Old King Cole," a favorite balladwith him, and with the indifference of one who believes himself to bealone. Presently the light appeared, and, as the bearer approached, itsrays fell on the forms of two men, retired into the furthest extremityof the shed and crouching to the earth as if in concealment, whom Simonrecognised at a glance. He however took no notice of the circumstance tothe ostler, or even gave the slightest indication, by look or movement,of what he had seen.
When the man had watered Silvertail and put his corn in the trough, hereturned to the house, and Simon, with his arms folded across his chest,as his horse crunched his food, listened attentively to catch whateverconversation might ensue between the loiterers. Not a word however wasuttered, and soon after he saw them emerge from their concealment--stepcautiously behind him--cross the yard towards the gate by which he hadentered--and then disappear altogether. During this movement the old manhad kept himself perfectly still, so that there could be no suspicionthat he had in any way observed them. Nay, he even spoke once or twicecoaxingly to Silvertail, as if conscious only of the presence of thatanimal, and, in short, conducted himself in a manner well worthy of thecunning of a drunken man. The reflections to which this incident gaverise, had the effect of calling up a desperate fit of loyalty, which heonly awaited the termination of Silvertail's hasty meal to put intoimmediate activity. Another shout to the ostler, a second glassswallowed, the reckoning paid, Silvertail bitted, and away went Simononce more at his speed through the now deserted town, the road out ofwhich to his own place, skirted partly the banks of the river, andpartly those of the lake.
After galloping about a mile, the old man found the feet of Silvertailburying themselves momentarily deeper in the sands which form the roadnear Elliot's Point. Unwilling to distress him, he pulled him up to awalk, and, throwing the reins upon his neck, folded his arms as usual,rolling from side to side at every moment, and audibly musing, in thethick, husky voice that was common to him in inebriety.
"Yes, by Jove, I am as true and loyal a subject as any in the service ofKing George, God bless him (here he bowed his head involuntarily andwith respect), and though, as that poor dear old Grantham used to say, Ido drink a little (hiccup), still there's no great harm in that. Itkeeps a man alive. I am the boy, at all events, to scent a rogue. Thatwas Desborough and his son I saw just now, and the rascals, he! he!he!--the rascals thought, I suppose, I was too drunk (hiccup), too drunkto twig them. We shall tell them another tale before the night is over.D----n such skulking scoundrels, I say. Whoa! Silvertail, whoa!--what doyou see there, my boy, eh?"
Silvertail only replied by the sharp pricking of his ears, and a sidemovement, which seemed to indicate a desire to keep as much aloof aspossible from a cluster of walnut trees, which, interspersed with wildgrape vines, may be seen to this hour, resting in gloomy relief on thewhite deep sands that extend considerably in that direction.
"Never mind, my boy, we shall be at home presently," pursued Simon,patting the neck of his unquiet companion. "But, no--I had forgotten; wemust give chase to these (hiccup) to these rascals. Now there's that sonBill of mine fast asleep, I suppose, in the arms of his little wife.They do nothing but lie in bed, while their poor old father is obligedto be up at all hours, devising plans for the good of the King'sservice, God bless him! But I shall soon (hiccup)--Whoa, Silvertail!whoa, I say! D----n you, you brute, do you mean to throw me?"
The restlessness of Silvertail, despite of his rider's caresses, hadbeen visibly increasing as they approached the dark cluster of walnuts.Arrived opposite to this, his ears and tail erect, he had evinced evenmore than restlessness--alarm: and something, that did not meet the eyeof his rider, caused him to take a sideward spring of several feet. Itwas this action that, nearly unseating Simon, had drawn from him theimpatient exclamation just recorded.
At length the thicket was passed, and Silvertail, recovered from hisalarm, moved forward once more on the bound, in obedience to the wellknown whistle of his master.
"Good speed have they made," again mused Simon, as he approached hishome: "if indeed, as I suspect, it be them who are hiding in yonderthicket. Silvertail could not have been more than ten minutes finishinghis (hiccup) his corn, and the sands had but little time to warmbeneath his boots when he did start. These Yankees are swift footedfellows, as I have had good (hiccup) good experience in the old war,when I could run a little myself like the best of them. But here we areat last. Whoa, Silvertail, whoa! and now to turn out Bill from hislittle wife. Bill, I say, hilloa! hilloa!
Bill, hilloa!"
Long habit, which had taught the old man's truly excellent and exemplaryson the utter hopelessness of his disease, had also familiarized himwith these nightly interruptions to his slumbers. A light was speedilyseen to flash across the chamber in which he slept, and presently theprincipal door of the lower building was unbarred, and unmurmuring anduncomplaining, the half-dressed young man stood in the presence of hisfather. Placing the light on the threshold, he prepared to assist him asusual to dismount, but Simon, contrary to custom, rejected for a timeevery offer of the kind. His rapid gallop through the night air, addedto the more than ordinary quantity of whiskey he had that day swallowed,was now producing its effect, and, while every feature of hiscountenance manifested the extreme of animal stupidity, his apprehensionwandered and his voice became almost inarticulate. Without the power toacquaint his son with the purpose he had in view, and of which hehimself now entertained but a very indistinct recollection, he yetstrove, impelled as he was by his confusedness of intention, to retainhis seat, but was eventually unhorsed and handed over to the care of hispretty daughter-in-law, whose office it was to dispose of him for thenight, while her husband rubbed down, fed, and otherwise attended toSilvertail.
A few hours of sound sleep restored Simon to his voice and hisrecollection, when his desire to follow the two individuals he had seenin the yard of the inn the preceding night, and whom he felt persuadedhe must have passed on the road, was more than ever powerfully revived.And yet, was it not highly probable that the favorable opportunity hadbeen lost, and that, taking advantage of the night, they were alreadydeparted from the country, if such (and he doubted it not) was theirintention. "What a cursed fool," he muttered to himself, "to let athimbleful of liquor upset me on such an occasion, but, at all events,here goes for another trial." With the impatient, over-indulged Simon,to determine on a course of action, was to carry it into effect.
"Hilloa, Bill! I say, Bill my boy!" he shouted from the chamber next tothat in which his son slept. "Hilloa! Bill, come here directly."
Bill answered not, but sounds were heard in his room as of one steppingout of bed, and presently the noise of flint and steel announced that alight was being struck. In a few minutes the rather jaded-looking youthappeared at the bedstead of his parent.
"Bill, my dear boy," said Simon, in a more subdued voice, "did you seeanybody pass last night after I came home? Try and recollect yourself;did you see two men on the road?"
"I did, father; just as I had locked the stable door, and was coming infor the night, I saw two men passing down the road. But why do you ask?"
"Did you speak to them--could you recognise them?" asked Simon, withoutstating his motive for the question.
"I wished them good night; and one of them gruffly bade me good nighttoo; but I could not make out who they were, though one did for amoment strike me to be Desborough, and both were tallish sort of men."
"You're a lad of penetration, Bill; now saddle me Silvertail as fast asyou can."
"Saddle Silvertail! Surely, father, you are not going out yet; it's notdaylight."
"Saddle Silvertail, Bill," repeated the old man, with the air of onewhose mandate was not to be questioned. "But where the devil are yougoing, sir?" he added, impatiently.
"Why to saddle Silvertail, to be sure," said the youth, who was justclosing the door for that purpose.
"What, and leave me, a miserable old man, to get up without a light? Ohfie, Bill. I thought you loved your poor old father better than toneglect him so--there, that will do. Now send in Lucy to dress me."
The light was kindled, Bill went in and spoke to his wife, thendescended to the stable. A gentle tap at the door of the oldinterpreter, and Lucy entered in her pretty night dress, and, halfasleep, half awake, but without a shadow of discontent in her look,proceeded to assist him in drawing on his stockings, &c. Simon's toiletwas soon completed, and Silvertail being announced as "all ready," he,without communicating a word of his purpose, issued forth from his homejust as the day was beginning to dawn.
Although the reflective powers of Girtie had been in some measurerestored by sleep, it is by no means to be assumed he was yet thoroughlysober. Uncertain in regard to the movements of those who had so stronglyexcited his loyal hostility, (and, mayhap, at the moment his curiosity,)it occurred to him that if Desborough had not already baffled hispursuit, a knowledge of the movements and intentions of that individualmight be better obtained from an observation of what was passing on thebeach in front of his hut. The object of this reconnaissance was,therefore, only to see if the canoe of the settler was still on theshore, and with this object he suffered Silvertail to take the roadalong the sands, while he himself, with his arms folded and his headsunk on his chest, fell into a reverie with which was connected themanner and the means of securing the disloyal Desborough, should ithappen that he had not yet departed. The accidental discharge ofMiddlemore's pistol, at the very moment when Silvertail had doubled apoint that kept the scene of contention from his view, caused him toraise his eyes, and then the whole truth flashed suddenly upon him. Wehave already seen how gallantly he advanced to them, and how madly, andin a manner peculiarly his own, he sought to arrest the traitorDesborough in his flight.
"Sorry I couldn't force the scoundrel back, gentlemen," said Simon, ashe now approached the discomfited officers. "Not much hurt, I hope,"pointing with his own maimed and bleeding hand to the leg of Middlemore,which that officer, seated on the sand, was preparing to bind with asilk handkerchief. "Ah, a mere flesh wound, I see. Henry, HenryGrantham, my poor dear boy, what still alive after the desperateclutching of that fellow at your throat? But now that we have routed theenemy--must be off--drenched to the skin. No liquor on the stomach tokeep out the cold, and if I once get an ague fit, its all over with poorold Simon. Must gallop home, and, while his little wife wraps a bandageround my hand, shall send down Bill with a litter. Good morning, Mr.Middlemore, good bye, Henry, my boy." And then, without giving time toeither to reply, the old man applied his spurs once more to the flanksof Silvertail, who, with drooping mane and tail, resembled a halfdrowned rat; and again hallooing defiance to Desborough, who lay to at adistance, apparently watching the movements of his enemies, he retracedhis way along the sands at full gallop, and was speedily out of sight.
Scarcely had Girty disappeared, when two other individuals, evidentlyofficers, and cloaked precisely like the party he had just quitted,issued from the wood near the hut upon the clearing, and thence upon thesands--their countenances naturally expressing all the surprise thatmight be supposed to arise from the picture now offered to their view.
"What in the name of Heaven is the meaning of all this?" asked one ofthe new comers, as both now rapidly advanced to the spot whereMiddlemore was yet employed in coolly binding up his leg, while HenryGrantham, who had just risen, was gasping with almost ludicrous effortsto regain his respiration.
"You must ask the meaning of our friend here," answered Middlemore, withthe low chuckling good-natured laugh that was habitual to him, while heproceeded with his bandaging. "All I know is, that I came out as asecond, and here have I been made a first--a principal, which, by theway, is contrary to all my principle."
"Do be serious for once, Middlemore. How did you get wounded, and whoare those scoundrels who have just quitted you?" anxiously inquiredCaptain Molineux, for it was he, and Lieutenant Villiers, who, (theparty already stated to have been expected), had at length arrived.
"Two desperate fellows in their way, I can assure you," repliedMiddlemore, more amused than annoyed at the adventure. "Ensign Paul,Emilius, Theophilus, Arnoldi, is, I calculate, a pretty considerablestrong ac_tyve_ sort of fellow; and, to judge by Henry Grantham's halfstrangled look, his companion lacks not the same qualities. Why, in thename of all that is precious would you persist in poking your nose intothe rascal's skins, Grantham? The ruffians had nearly made dried skinsof ours."
"Ha! is that the scoundrel who calls himself Arnoldi," asked CaptainMolineux? "I have heard," and
he glanced at Henry Grantham as he spoke,"a long story of his villainy from his captor within this very hour."
"Which is your apology, I suppose," said Middlemore, "for having so farexceeded your appointment, gentlemen."
"It certainly is," said Lieutenant Villiers, "but the fault was notours. We chanced to fall in with Gerald Grantham, on our way here, andthat he detained us, should be a matter of congratulation to us all."
"Congratulation!" exclaimed Middlemore, dropping his bandage, andlifting his eyes with an expression of indescribable humor. "Am I thento think it matter of congratulation that, as an innocent second, Ishould have had a cursed piece of lead stuck in my flesh to spoil mynext winter's dancing. And Grantham is to think it matter ofcongratulation that, instead of putting a bullet through you, Molineux,(as I intend he shall when I have finished dressing this confounded leg,if his nerves are not too much shaken), he should have felt the gripe ofthat monster Desborough around his throat, until his eyes seem ready tostart from their sockets, and all this because you did not choose to bein time. Upon my word, I do not know that it is quite meet that weshould meet you. What say you, Grantham?"
"I hope," said Captain Molineux with a smile, "your principal will thinkas you do, for should he decline the meeting, nothing will afford moresatisfaction to myself."
Both Grantham and Middlemore looked their utter surprise at the languagethus used by Captain Molineux, but neither of them spoke.
"If an apology the most ample for my observation of yesterday,"continued that officer, "an apology founded on my perfect conviction oferror, (that conviction produced by certain recent explanations withyour brother), can satisfy you, Mr. Grantham, most sincerely do I makeit. If, however, you hold me to my pledge, here am I of course to redeemit. I may as well observe to you in the presence of our friends, (andVilliers can corroborate my statement), that my original intention onleaving your brother, was to receive your fire and then tender myapology, but, under the circumstances in which both you and Middlemoreare placed at this moment, the idea would be altogether absurd. Again Itender my apology, which it will be a satisfaction to me to repeat thisday at the mess table, where I yesterday refused to drink your brother'shealth. All I can add is that when you have heard the motives for myconduct, and learnt to what extent I have been deceived, you willreadily admit that I acted not altogether from caprice."
"Your apology I accept, Captain Molineux," said Grantham, coming forwardand unhesitatingly offering his hand. "If you have seen my brother, I amsatisfied. Let there be no further question on the subject."
"So then I am to be the only bulleted man on this occasion," interruptedMiddlemore, with ludicrous pathos--"the only poor devil who is to bemade to remember Hartley's point for ever. But no matter. I am not thefirst instance of a second being shot, through the awkward bungling ofhis principal, and certainly Grantham you were in every sense theprincipal in this affair, for had you taken my advice you would have letthe fellows go to the devil their own way."
"What! knowing, as I did, that the traitor Desborough had concealed inhis canoe a prisoner on parole--nay, worse, a deserter from ourservice--with a view of conveying him out of the country."
"How did you know it."
"Because I at once recognised him, through the disguise in which he leftthe hut, for what he was. That discovery made, there remained but onecourse to pursue."
"Ah! and coarse work you made of it, with a vengeance," said Middlemore,"first started him up like a fox from his cover, got the mark of histeeth, and then suffered him to escape."
"Is there no chance of following--no means of overtaking them?" saidCaptain Molineux--"No, by Heaven," as he glanced his eye from right toleft, "not a single canoe to be seen anywhere along the shore."
"Following!" echoed Middlemore; "faith the scoundrels would desirenothing better: if two of us had such indifferent play with them onterra firma, you may rely upon it that double the number would have nobetter chance in one of these rickety canoes. See there how the rascalslie to within half musket shot, apparently hailing us."
Middlemore was right. Desborough had risen in the stern of the canoe,and now, stretched to his full height, called leisurely, through hisclosed hands, on the name of Henry Grantham. When he observed theattention of that officer had, in common with that of his companions,been arrested, he proceeded at the full extent of his lungs.
"I reckon, young man, as how I shall pay you out for this, and drot myskin, if I once twists my fingers round your neck again, if anything onthis side hell shall make me quit it, afore you squeaks your lastsqueak. You've druv me from my home, and I'll have your curst blood forit yet. I'll sarve you as I sarved your old father. You got my smallbore, I expect, and if its any good to you to know that one of itsnineties to the pound sent the old rascal to the devil--why then youhave it from Jeremiah Desborough's own lips, and be d----d to you."
And, with this horrible admission, the settler again seated himself inthe stern of his canoe, and making good use of his paddle soon scuddedaway until his little vessel appeared but as a speck on the lake.
Henry Grantham was petrified with astonishment and dismay at adeclaration, the full elucidation of which we must reserve for a futureopportunity. The daring confession rang in his ears long after the voicehad ceased, and it was not until a light vehicle had been brought forMiddlemore from Simon's farm, that he could be induced to quit theshore, where he still lingered, as if in expectation of the return ofthe avowed _murderer of his Father_.
Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled Page 8