CHAPTER I
IN WHICH I WHET MY FATHER'S SWORD
The summer day was all but spent when Richard Jennifer, riding express,brought me Captain Falconnet's challenge.
'Twas a dayfall to be marked with a white stone, even in our Carolinacalendar. The sun, reaching down to the mountain-girt horizon in thewest, filled all the upper air with the glory of its departing, and thehigher leaf plumes of the great maples before my cabin door wroughtlustrous patterns in gilded green upon a zenith background of turquoiseshot with crimson, like the figurings of some rich old tapestries I hadonce seen in my field-marshal's castle in the Mark of Moravia.
Beyond the maples a brook tinkled and plashed over the stones on its wayto the near-by Catawba; and its peaceful brawling, and the evensong of apair of clear-throated warblers poised on the topmost twigs of one ofthe trees, should have been sweet music in the ears of a returnedexile. But on that matchless bride's-month evening of dainty sunsetarabesques and brook and bird songs, I was in little humor forrejoicing.
The road made for the river lower down and followed its windings up thevalley; but Jennifer came by the Indian trace through the forest. I cansee him now as he rode beneath the maples, bending to the saddle hornwhere the branches hung lowest; a pretty figure of a handsome youngprovincial, clad in fashions three years behind those I had seen inLondon the winter last past. He rode gentleman-wise, in small-clothes ofrough gray woolen and with stout leggings over his hose; but he wore hiscocked hat atilt like a trooper's, and the sword on his thigh was a goodservice blade, and no mere hilt and scabbard for show such as ourcourtier macaronis were just then beginning to affect.
Now I had known this handsome youngster when he was but a little lad;had taught him how to bend the Indian bow and loose the reed-shaft arrowin those happier days before the tyrant Governor Tryon turned hangman,and the battle of the Great Alamance had left me fatherless. Moreover, Ihad drunk a cup of wine with him at the Mecklenburg Arms no longer agothan yesterweek--this to a renewal of our early friendship. Hence, Imust needs be somewhat taken aback when he drew rein at my door-stone,doffed his hat with a sweeping bow worthy a courtier of the great Louis,and said, after the best manner of Sir Charles Grandison:
"I have the honor of addressing Captain John Ireton, sometime of hisMajesty's Royal Scots Blues, and late of her Apostolic Majesty'sTwenty-ninth Regiment of Hussars?"
It was but an euphuism of the time, this formal preamble, declaring thathis errand had to do with the preliminaries of a private quarrel betweengentlemen. Yet I could scarce restrain a smile. For these upcroppings ofcourtier etiquette have ever seemed to march but mincingly with the freestride of our western backwoods. None the less, you are to suppose thatI made shift to match his bow in some fashion, and to say: "At yourservice, sir."
Whereupon he bowed again, clapped hat to head and tendered me a sealedpacket.
"From Sir Francis Falconnet, Knight Bachelor of Beaumaris, volunteercaptain in his Majesty's German Legion," he announced, with sterndignity.
Having no second to refer him to, I broke the seal of the cartel myself.Since my enemy had seen fit to come thus far on the way to his end insome gentlemanly manner, it was not for me to find difficulties amongthe formalities. In good truth, I was overjoyed to be thus assured thathe would fight me fair; that he would not compel me to kill him as onekills a wild beast at bay. For certainly I should have killed him in anyevent: so much I had promised my poor Dick Coverdale on that dismalNovember morning when he had choked out his life in my arms, the victimfirst of this man's treachery, and, at the last, of his sword. So, as Isay, I was nothing loath, and yet I would not seem too eager.
"I might say that I have no unsettled quarrel with Captain Falconnet," Idemurred, when I had read the challenge. "He spoke slightingly of alady, and I did but--"
"Your answer, Captain Ireton!" quoth my youngster, curtly. "I am notempowered to give or take in the matter of accommodations."
"Not so fast, if you please," I rejoined. "I have no wish to disappointyour principal, or his master, the devil. Let it be to-morrow morning atsunrise in the oak grove which was once my father's wood field, each manwith his own blade. And I give you fair warning, Master Jennifer; Ishall kill your bullyragging captain of light-horse as I would a verminof any other breed."
At this Jennifer flung himself from his saddle with a great laugh.
"If you can," he qualified. "But enough of these 'by your leave, sirs.'I am near famished, and as dry as King David's bottle in the smoke. Willyou give me bite and sup before I mount and ride again? 'Tis a longgallop back to town on an empty stomach, and with a gullet as dry as Mr.Gilbert Stair's wit."
Here was my fresh-hearted Dick Jennifer back again all in a breath; andI made haste to shout for Darius, and for Tomas to take his horse, andotherwise to bestir myself to do the honors of my poor forest fastnessas well as I might.
Luckily, my haphazard larder was not quite empty, and there werepresently a bit of cold deer's to eat and some cakes of maize breadbaked in the ashes to set before the guest. Also there was a cup ofsweet wine, home-pressed from the berries the Indian scuppernong, towash them down. And afterward, though the evening was no more thanmountain-breeze cool, we had a handful of fire on the hearth for thecheer of it while we smoked our reed-stemmed pipes.
It was over the pipes that Jennifer unburdened himself of the gossip ofthe day in Queensborough.
"Have you heard the newest? But I know you haven't, since thepost-riders came only this morning. The war has shifted from the Northin good earnest at last, and we are like to have a taste of theharryings the Jerseymen have had since '76. My Lord Cornwallis is comeas far as Camden, they say; and Colonel Tarleton has crossed theCatawba."
"So? Then Mr. Rutherford is like to have his work cut out for him, Itake it."
Jennifer eyed me curiously. "Grif Rutherford is a stout Indian fighter;no West Carolinian will gainsay that. But he is never the man to matchCornwallis. We'll have help from the North."
"De Kalb?" I suggested.
Again the curious eyeshot. "Nay, John Ireton, you need not fear me,though I am just now this redcoat captain's next friend. You know moreabout the Baron de Kalb's doings than anybody else in Mecklenburg."
"I? What should I know?"
"You know a deal--or else the gossips lie most recklessly."
"They do lie if they connect me with the Baron de Kalb, or with anyother of the patriot side. What are they saying?"
"That you come straight from the baron's camp in Virginia--to see whatyou can see."
"A spy, eh? 'Tis cut out of whole cloth, Dick, my lad. I've never tookthe oath on either side."
He looked vastly disappointed. "But you will, Jack? Surely, you have notto think twice in such a cause?"
"As between King and Congress, you mean? 'Tis no quarrel of mine."
"Now God Save us, John Ireton!" he burst out in a fine fervor ofyouthful enthusiasm that made him all the handsomer, "I had neverthought to hear your father's son say the like!"
I shrugged.
"And why not, pray? The king's minion, Tryon, hanged my father and gavehis estate to his minion's minion, Gilbert Stair. So, in spite of yourdeclarations and your confiscations and your laws against alienlandholders, I come back to find myself still the son of the outlawedRoger Ireton, and this same Gilbert Stair firmly lodged in my father'sseat."
Jennifer shrugged in his turn.
"Gilbert Stair--for sweet Madge's sake I'm loath to say it--GilbertStair blows hot or cold as the wind sets fair or stormy. And I will saythis for him: no other Tryon legatee of them all has steered so fine acourse through these last five upsetting years. How he trims soskilfully no man knows. A short month since, he had General Rutherfordand Colonel Sumter as guests at Appleby Hundred; now it is Sir FrancisFalconnet and the British light-horse officers who are honored. But lethim rest: the cause of independence is bigger than any man, or any man'sprivate quarrel, friend John; and I had hoped--"
I laid a hand on his kne
e. "Spare yourself, Dick. My business inQueensborough was to learn how best I might reach Mr. Rutherford'srendezvous."
For a moment he sat, pipe in air, staring at me as if to make sure thathe had heard aright. Then he clipt my hand and wrung it, babbling outsome boyish brava that I made haste to put an end to.
"Softly, my lad," I said; "'tis no great thing the Congress will gain bymy adhesion. But you, Richard; how comes it that I find you taking yourease at Jennifer House and hobnobbing with his Majesty's officers whenthe cause you love is still in such desperate straits?"
He blushed like a girl at that, and for a little space only puffed theharder at his pipe.
"I did go out with the Minute Men in '76, if you must know, and smeltpowder at Moore's Creek. When my time was done I would have 'listedagain; but just at that my father died and the Jennifer acres were liketo go to the dogs, lacking oversight. So I came home and--and--"
He stopped in some embarrassment, and I thought to help him on.
"Nay, out with it, Dick. If I am not thy father, I am near old enough tostand in his stead. 'Twas more than husbandry that rusted the sword inits scabbard, I'll be bound."
"You are right, Jack; 'twas both more and less," he confessed,shamefacedly. "'Twas this same Margery Stair. As I have said, her fatherblows hot or cold as the wind sets, but not she. She is the fiercestlittle Tory in the two Carolinas, bar none. When I had got Jennifer inorder and began to talk of 'listing again, she flew into a pretty rageand stamped her foot and all but swore that Dick Jennifer in buff andblue should never look upon her face again with her good will."
I had a glimpse of Jennifer the lover as he spoke, and the sight wentsomewhat on the way toward casting out the devil of sullen rage that hadpossessed me since first I had set returning foot in this my nativehomeland. 'Twas a life lacking naught of hardness, but much of humanmellowing, that lay behind the home-coming; and my one sweet friend inall that barren life was dead. What wonder, then, if I set thisfrank-faced Richard in the other Richard's stead, wishing him all thehappiness that poor Dick Coverdale had missed? I needed little: wouldneed still less, I thought, before the war should end; and through thislove-match my lost estate would come at length to Richard Jennifer. Itwas a meliorating thought, and while it held I could be less revengeful.
"Dost love her, Dick?" I asked.
"Aye, and have ever since she was in pinafores, and I a hobbledehoy inMaster Wytheby's school."
"So long? I thought Mr. Stair was a later comer in Mecklenburg."
"He came eight years ago, as one of Tryon's underlings. Madge was eventhen motherless; the same little wilful prat-a-pace she has ever been. Iwould you knew her, Jack. 'Twould make this shiftiness of mine seem lessthe thing it is."
"So you have stayed at home a-courting while others fought to give youleisure," said I, thinking to rally him. But he took it harder than Imeant.
"'Tis just that, Jack; and I am fair ashamed. While the fighting kept tothe North it did not grind so keen; but now, with the redcoats at ourdoors, and the Tories sacking and burning in every settlement, 'tisenough to flay an honest man alive. God-a-mercy, Jack! I'll go; I've gotto go, or die of shame!"
He sat silent after that, and as there seemed nothing that a curst oldcampaigner could say at such a pass, I bore him company.
By and by he harked back to the matter of his errand, making someapology for his coming to me as the baronet's second.
"'Twas none of my free offering, you may be sure," he added. "But it sohappened that Captain Falconnet once did me a like turn. I had chancedto run afoul of that captain of Hessian pigs, Lauswoulter, at cards, andFalconnet stood my friend--though now I bethink me, he did seemover-anxious that one or the other of us should be killed."
"As how?" I inquired.
"When Lauswoulter slipped and I might have spitted him, and didn't,Falconnet was for having us make the duel _a outrance_. But that'sbeside the mark. Having served me then, he makes the point that I shallserve him now."
"'Tis a common courtesy, and you could not well refuse. I love you nonethe less for paying your debts; even to such a villain as this volunteercaptain."
"True, 'tis a debt, as you say; but I like little enough the manner ofits paying. How came you to quarrel with him, Jack?"
Now even so blunt a soldier as I have ever been may have some prickingsof delicacy where the truth might breed gossip--gossip about a talewhich I had said should die with Richard Coverdale and be buried in hisgrave. So I evaded the question, clumsily enough, as has ever been myhap in fencing with words.
"The cause was not wanting. If any ask, you may say he trod upon my footin passing."
Jennifer laughed.
"And for that you struck him? Heavens, man! you hold your lifecarelessly. Do you happen to know that this volunteer captain oflight-horse is accounted the best blade in the troop?"
"Who should know that better than--" I was fairly on the brink ofbetraying the true cause of quarrel, but drew rein in time. "I care notif he were the best in the army. I have crossed steel before--and with agood swordsman now and then."
"Anan?" said Jennifer, as one who makes no doubt. And then: "But thistoe-pinching story is but a dry crust to offer a friend. You spoke of alady; who was she? Or was that only another way of telling me to mind myown affairs?"
"Oh, as to that; the lady was real enough, and Falconnet did grosslyasperse her. But I know not who she is, nor aught about her, save thatshe is sweet and fair and good to look upon."
"Young?"
"Aye."
"And you say you do not know her? Let me see her through your eyes andmayhap I can name her for you."
"That I can not. Mr. Peale's best skill would be none too great for thepainting of any picture that should do her justice. But she is small,with the airs and graces of a lady of the quality; also, she haswitching blue eyes, and hair that has the glint of summer sunshine init. Also, she sits a horse as if bred to the saddle."
To my amazement, Jennifer leaped up with an oath and flung his pipe intothe fire.
"Curse him!" he cried. "And he dared lay a foul tongue to her, you say?Tell me what he said! I have a good right to know!"
I shook my head. "Nay, Richard; I may not repeat it to you, since youare the man's second. Truly, there is more than this at the back of ourquarrel; but of itself it was enough, and more than enough, inasmuch asthe lady had just done him the honor to recognize him."
"His words--his very words, Jack, if you love me!"
"No; the quarrel is mine."
"By God! it is not yours!" he stormed, raging back and forth before thefire. "What is Margery Stair to you, Jack Ireton?"
I smiled, beginning now to see some peephole in this millstone ofmystery.
"Margery Stair? She is no more than a name to me, I do assure you; thedaughter of the man who sits in my father's seat at Appleby Hundred."
"But you are going to fight for her!" he retorted.
"Am I? I pledge you my word I did not know it. But in any case I shouldfight Sir Francis Falconnet; aye, and do my best to kill him, too. Sityou down and fill another pipe. Whatever the quarrel, it is mine."
"Mayhap; but it is mine, too," he broke in, angrily. "At all events,I'll see this king's volunteer well hanged before I second him in such acause."
"That as you choose. But you are bound in honor, are you not?"
"No." He filled a fresh pipe, lighted it with a coal from the hearth,and puffed away in silence for a time. When he spoke again it was not asFalconnet's next friend.
"What you have told me puts a new face on the matter, Jack. Sir Francismay find him another second where he can. If he has aught to say, Ishall tell him plain he lied to me about the quarrel, as he did. Now whois there to see fair play on your side, John Ireton?"
At the question an overwhelming sense of my own sorry case grappled me.Fifteen years before, I had left Appleby Hundred and my native provinceas well befriended as the son of Roger Ireton was sure to be. And now--
"Dick, my lad,
I am like to fight alone," said I.
He swore again at that; and here, lest I should draw my loyal Richard ashe was not, let me say, once for all, that his oaths were but theoutgushings of a warm and impulsive heart, rarely bitter, and never, asI believe, backed by surly rancor or conscious irreverence.
"That you shall not, Jack," he asserted, stoutly. "I must be a-gallopnow to tell this king's captain to look elsewhere for his next friend;but to-morrow morning I'll meet you in the road between this and theStair outlands, and we'll fare on together."
After this he would brook no more delay; and when Tomas had fetched hishorse I saw him mount and ride away under the low-hangingmaples--watched him fairly out of sight in the green and gold twilightof the great forest before turning back to my lonely hearth and itssomber reminders.
I stirred the dying embers, throwing on a pine knot for better light.Then I took down my father's sword from its deer-horn brackets over thechimney-piece, and set myself to fine its edge and point with a bit ofScotch whinstone. It was a good blade; a true old Andrea Ferara got inbattle in the seventeenth century by one of the Nottingham Iretons.
I whetted it well and carefully. It was not that I feared my enemy'sstrength of wrist or tricks of fence; but fighting had been my trade,and he is but a poor craftsman who looks not well to see that his toolsare in order against their time of using.
The Master of Appleby Page 2