XXXVII
OF WHAT BEFELL AT KING'S CREEK
Skipping lightly over the happenings of the two days following mydeparture from Charlotte on the king's errand, I may say that afterpassing the British outposts at the crossing of the Catawba, I metneither friend nor foe; and from noon on I rode to the westward througha pitiless drizzling rain, splashed to the belt with the mire of theroad, and having little chance to inquire my way.
This last lack grew with the passing hours to the size of a threateninghazard. As you may have guessed, I knew no more than a blind man theroute I should take; knew no more of the whereabouts of Gilbert Town andMajor Ferguson's rendezvous than that both were some eighty miles to thewestward.
At the outset I had thought to feel out the way in general by cautiousinquiry along the road; but when I came to consider of this, the risk ofbetraying my ignorance to those who followed me was too great to let meturn aside to any of the wayside houses; and as for chance passers-by,there were none--the rain kept all within doors.
So I was constrained to gallop on without pause; and throughout thatcomfortless afternoon and the scarce less miserable day which followed,there were no incidents to break the dull monotony of the blind racesave these two; that once the clouds lifted enough to give me a glimpseof my pursuers in a far reach to the eastward; and once again I had asight of an awkward horseman in the road before me--saw him and tried toovertake him, and could not, for all his clumsy riding.
Now I was curious about this lone horseman ahead for more reasons thanone, but chiefly because my glimpse of him seemed to show me the back ofa man whom I made sure I had left safe behind in the British guard-housein Charlotte, to wit: the scoundrelly little pettifogger.
At first I scoffed at the idea. Saying he were free to leave Charlotte,how should he be riding post on my haphazard road to the westward? 'Twasagainst all reason, and yet the tittuping figure of which I had but arain-veiled glimpse named itself Owen Pengarvin in spite of all thereasons I could bring to bear.
'Twas close on eventide of the second day, the early evening gloaming ofa chill autumnal rain-day, and I had been since morning dubiously lostin the somber trackless forest, when an elfish cry rose, as it wouldseem, from beneath the very hoofs of my horse.
"God save the king!"
The bay shied suddenly, standing with nostrils a-quiver; and I had tolook closely to make out the little brown dot of humanity clad in russethomespun crouching in the path, its childish eyes wide with fear and itslips parted to shrill again: "God save the king!"
I threw a stiff leg over the cantle and swung down to go on one knee tomy stout challenger. I can never make you understand, my dears, how thesight of this helpless waif appearing thus unaccountably in the heart ofthe great forest mellowed and softened me. 'Twas a little maid, notabove three or four years old, and with a face that Master Raphael mighthave taken as a pattern for one of his seraphs.
"What know you of the king, little one?" I asked.
"Gran'dad told me," she lisped. "If I was to see a soldier-man I mustsay, quick, 'God save the king,' or 'haps he'd eat me. Is--is youhungry, Mister Soldier-man?"
"Truly I am that, sweetheart; but I don't eat little maids. Where isyour grandfather?"
"Ain't got any gran'favver; I said 'gran'_dad_.'"
"Well, your gran'dad, then; can you take me to him?"
"I don't know. 'Haps you'd eat _him_."
"No fear of that, my dear. Do I look as if I ate people?"
She gave me a long scrutiny out of the innocent eyes and then put up twolittle brown hands to be taken. "I tired" she said; and my sore heartwent warm within me when I took her in my arms and cuddled her. After along-drawn sigh of contentment, she said: "My name Polly; what's yours?"
"You may call me Jack, if you please--Captain Jack, if that comes theeasier. And now will you let me take you to your gran'dad?"
She nodded, and I spoke to the bay and mounted, still holding herclosely in my arms.
"Tell me quickly which way to go, Polly," I said; for besides being, asI would fear, far out of the way to Gilbert Town, the last hilltop tothe rear had given me another sight of my shadowing pursuers riding hardas if they meant to overtake me.
The little maid sat up straight on the saddle horn and looked about heras if to get her bearings.
"That way," she said, pointing short to the right; and I wheeled thehorse into a blind path that wound in and out among the trees for a longhalf mile, to end at a little clearing on the banks of a small stream.
In the midst of the clearing was a rude log cabin; and in the opendoorway stood a man bent and aged, a patriarchal figure with white hairfalling to his shoulders and a snowy beard such as Aaron might haveworn. At sight of me the old watcher disappeared within the house, but amoment later he was out again, fingering the lock of an ancientQueen's-arm.
I drew rein quickly, and the little maid sat up and saw the musket.
"Don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried. "He's Cappy Jack, and he doesn'teat folkses."
At this the old man came to meet us, though still with the clumsy musketheld at the ready.
"These be parlous times, sir," he said, half in apology, I thought. Andthen: "You have made friends with my little maid, and I owe you somewhatfor bringing her safe home."
"Nay," said I; "the debt is mine, inasmuch as I have the little one formy friend. 'Tis long since I have held a trusting child in my arms, I doassure you, sir."
He bowed as grandly as any courtier. "I hope her trust is not misplaced,sir; though for the matter of that, we have little enough now to take orleave."
"You have given it all to the king?" said I, feeling my way as I hadneed to.
His eyes flashed and he drew himself up proudly.
"The king has taken all, sir, as you see," this with a wave of the handto point me to the forlorn homestead. "There is naught left me save thispoor hut and my little maid."
"'Taken,' you say? Then you are not of the king's side?"
He came a step nearer and faced me boldly. "Listen, sir: two of my sonswere left on the bloody field of Camden, and the butcher BanastreTarleton slew the other two at Fishing Creek. A month since a band ofroving savages, armed with King George's muskets, mind you, sir, camedown upon us at Northby, and this little maid's mother--"
He stopped and choked; and the child looked up into my face with herblue eyes full of nameless terror. "Oh, I want my mammy!" she said."Won't you find her for me, Cappy Jack?"
I slipped from the saddle, still clasping the little one tightly in myarms.
"Enough, sir," I said, when I could trust myself to speak. "This sameKing George's minions have made me a homeless outcast, too. I live butto give some counter stroke, if I may."
"Ha!" said the old man, starting back; "then you are for our side? Butyour uniform--"
"Is that of an Austrian officer, my good sir, which I should rightgladly exchange for the buff and blue, but that I can serve the causebetter in this."
He dropped the Queen's-arm, took the child from me and bade me welcometo his cabin and all it held. But I was not minded to make him a sharerin my private peril.
"No," said I. "Tell me how I may find Gilbert Town and Major Ferguson'srendezvous, and I will ride whilst I can see the way."
He looked at me narrowly. "Ferguson left Gilbert Town some days since.If 'tis the place you seek, you are gone far out of your way; if 'tisthe man--"
"'Tis the man," I cut in hastily.
The patriarch shook his head.
"If you be of our side, as you say, he will hang you out of hand."
"So I can make my errand good, I care little how soon he hangs me."
"And what may your errand be? Mayhap I can help you."
"It is to bring him to a stand till the mountain men can overtake him."
The old man trembled with excitement like a boy going into his firstbattle.
"Ah, if you could--if you could!" he cried. "But 'tis too late, now.Listen: his present camp is but three miles to t
he westward on BuffaloCreek. I was there no longer ago than the Wednesday. I--I made mysubmission to him--curse him--so that I might mayhap learn of his plans.He told me all; how that now he was safe; that the mountaineers weregone off from the fording of the Broad on a false scent; that Tarletonwith four hundred of the legion would soon be marching to his relief.
"I stole away when I could, and that night took horse and rode twentymiles to Tom Sumter's camp at Flint Hill--all to little purpose, I fear.Poor Tom is still desperately sick of his Fishing Creek wounds, andColonel Lacey was the only officer fit to go after Shelby and themountain men to set them straight. I should have gone myself, but--"
"Stay, my good friend," said I; "you go too fast for me. If Ferguson isstill out of communication with the main at Charlotte, we may halt himyet."
The old man made a gesture of impatience.
"'Tis a thing done because it is as good as done. The major will breakcamp and march to-morrow morning, and he can reach Charlotte at ease intwo days. What with their losing of his trail, the mountain men arethose same two days behind him."
"None the less, we shall halt him," said I. "Have you ever an inkhornand a quill in your cabin?"
"Both; at your service, sir. But I can not understand--"
"We may call it the little maid's judgment on those who have made herfatherless. But for her stopping of me I should have come unpreparedinto the camp of the enemy. I am the bearer of a letter from LordCornwallis to this same Major Ferguson."
"You?--a bearer of Lord Cornwallis's despatches?" The old man put ablade's length between us and held the little one aloft as if he fearedI might do her a mischief. I laughed and bade him be comforted.
"'Tis a long story, and I may not take the time to tell it now. But aword will suffice. Like yourself, I made my submission--and for the samepurpose. My Lord accepted it and made me his despatch-bearer because hethought I knew the way to Ferguson when no one else knew it. But enoughof this; time presses. Let me have ink and the quill."
The old man led the way into the cabin and put his writing tools at mydisposal. Left to myself, I should have broken the seal of the packet;but my wise old ally, cool and collected now, showed me how to split thepaper beneath the wax. Opened and spread before us on the rude slabtable, the letter proved to be the briefest of military commands: aperemptory order to Ferguson to rejoin the main body at once, proceedingby forced marches if needful, and on no account to risk engagement withthe over-mountain men.
How to change such an order to reverse it in effect, I knew no more thana yokel; but here again my ancient ally showed himself a man of parts.Dressing the pen to make it the fellow of that used by my LordCornwallis, he scanned the handwriting of the letter closely, made a fewpractice pot-hooks to get the imitative hang of it, and wrote this_postscriptum_ at the bottom of the sheet.
_Since writing the foregoing I have your courier, and his despatches. Lieutenant-colonel Tarleton, with four hundred of the legion, will take the road for you to-night. If battle is forced upon you, make a stand and hold the enemy in check till reinforcements come.
Cornwallis._
The old man sanded the wet penstrokes and bade me say if it would serve.'Twas a most beautiful forgery. My Lord's crabbed handwriting was copiedto a nicety, and of the two signatures I doubt if the earl himself couldhave told which was his own; 'twas the same circle "C," the sameprinting "r," the same heavy precision throughout.
"Capital!" said I. "Now, if the lightning would but strike thesepursuers of mine, we should have the Scotsman at bay in a hand's turn."
"How?" said the patriarch; "are you followed?"
I told him I was; told him of my Lord's plot within a plot--that threelight-horse riders, one of them a lieutenant bearing duplicatedespatches, had been hard upon my heels all the way from Charlotte.
At this the old warhorse--I learned afterward that he had fought throughthe French and Indian war--wagged his beard and his eye flashed.
"We must stop them," he said. "Three of them, do you say?"
"Three white men and an Indian trailer."
"Ha! If it were not for the little maid.... Let me think."
He fell to pacing up and down before the fire on the hearth, and I tookthe small one on my knee to let her chatter to me. 'Twas five fullminutes before my ancient gave me the worth of his cogitations, but whenhe did speak it was much to the purpose.
"These marplot rear-guards of yours will spoil it all if they come toFerguson's camp either before or after you. Do they know the major'spresent whereabouts?"
"No more than I did an hour ago. As I take it, they are depending on meto show them the way."
"Well, then; dead men tell no tales."
"But, my good friend, you forget there are four of them and only two ofus! We should stand little chance with them in fair fight."
Again the old man's eyes snapped and glowed as if pent-fires were behindthem.
"Was it fair fight when Tarleton's men rode in upon Tom Sumter's restcamp at Fishing Creek and cut down this little maid's father whilst hewas naked and bathing in the stream? Was it fair fight when KingGeorge's Indian devils came down in the dead of night upon ourdefenseless house at Northby? Never talk to me of fairness, sir, whilstall this bloody tyranny is afoot!"
I thought upon it for a little space. 'Twas none so easy to decide. Onone hand, stern loyalty to the cause I had espoused passed instantsentence on these four men whose lives stood in the way; on the other,common humanity cried out and called it murder.
Never smile, my dears, and hint that I had found me a new heart of mercysince that ambush-killing of the three Cherokee peace-men in the lonevalley of the western mountains. We did but give the savages a dole outof their own store of cruel cunning and ferocity. But as for these mytrackers, three of them, at least, were soldiers and men of my own race.I could not do it.
"No," said I, firmly. "These followers of mine must be stopped, as yousay, else there is no need of my going on. But there must be nobutcher's work."
The patriarch frowned and wagged his beard again.
"A true patriot should hold himself ready to give his own life or takeanother's," quoth he.
"Truly; and I am most willing on both heads. But we have had enough andmore than enough of midnight massacre."
Where this argument would have led us in the end, I know not, since wewere both waxing warm upon it. But in the midst the little maid camerunning from the open door, her blue eyes wide in childish terror.
"Injun man!" was all she could say; but that was enough. At a bound Ireached the door. An Indian was at my horse's head, loosing the halter,as I thought. Before he could twist to face me the point of the Ferarawas at his back.
Luckily, he had the wit not to move. "No kill Uncanoola," he muttered,this without the stirring of a muscle. Then, as if he were talking tothe horse: "White squaw, she send 'um word; say 'good by.'"
My point dropped as if another blade had parried the thrust.
"Mistress Margery, you mean? Do you come from her?"
"She send 'um word; say 'good by,'" he repeated.
"What else did she say?" I demanded.
"No say anyt'ing else: say 'good by.'" He turned upon me at that and Isaw why he had kept his face averted. He had on the war paint of aCherokee chief.
"Uncanoola good Chelakee now," he grinned. "Help redcoat soldier findCaptain Long-knife. Wah!"
I saw his drift, and though I knew his courage well, the boldness ofthe thing staggered me. He, too, had penetrated to the inner lines ofthe British encampment at Charlotte; and when they had sought an Indiantracker to lift my trail, 'twas he who had volunteered. But now myspirits rose. With this unexpected ally we might hope to deal forcefullyand yet fairly with my rear-guard.
"Where are your masters now?" I asked.
He spat upon the ground. "Catawba chief has no master," he said,proudly. "Redcoat pale-faces yonder," pointing back the way I had come."Make fire, boil tea, sing song, heap smoke pipe."
"We must take them," said I.
He nodded. "Kill 'um all; take scalp. Wah!"
The bloodthirstiness of my two allies was appalling. But I undertook tocool the Indian's ardor, explaining that the redcoat soldiers were theLong-knife's brothers, in a way, not to be slain save in honorablebattle. I am not sure whether I earned the Catawba's contempt, or hispity for my weakness; but since he was loyal to the son of his oldbenefactor first, and a savage afterward, he yielded the point.
So now I made him known to my patriarchal host, who all this time hadbeen standing guard at the cabin door with the old Queen's-arm for aweapon. So we three sat on the door-stone and planned it out. When thenight was far enough advanced, we would stalk the soldiers in theircamp, sparing life as we could.
When all was settled, the old man gave us a supper of his humble fare,after which we went into the open again to sit out the hours of waiting.The rain had ceased, but the night was cloudy and the darkness a softblack veil to shroud the nearest objects. High overhead the autumn windwas sighing in the tree-tops, and now and again a sharper gust wouldbring down a pattering volley of lodged rain-drops on the fallen leaves.
Uncanoola sat apart in stoical silence, smoking his long-stemmed pipe.The old man and I talked in low tones, or rather he would tell me of hispast whilst I sat and listened, holding the little maid in my arms.
After a time the child fell asleep, and I craved permission to put herin the little crib bed in the chimney corner. The flickering light ofthe fire fell upon her innocent face when I loosed the clasp of the tinyhands about my neck and laid her down. Again the wave of softnesssubmerged me and I bent to leave a kiss upon the sweet unconscious lips.
Ah, my dears, you may smile again, if you will; but at that moment I hada far-off glimpse of the beatitude of fatherhood; I was no longer thehard old soldier I have drawn for you; I was but a man, hungering andthirsting for the love of a wife and trusting, clinging little childrenlike this sweet maid.
I rose, turning my back upon the chimney corner and its holdings with asigh. For now the time was come for action, and I must needs be a man ofblood and iron again.
Lacking the Catawba to guide us, I doubt if either the old man or Icould have found my rearguard's bivouac near the trail I had left. ButUncanoola led us straight through the pitchy darkness; and when we werecome upon the three soldiers we found them all asleep around the handfulof camp-fire.
'Twould have been murder outright to kill them thus; and now I think theold patriarch forgot his wrongs and was as merciful as I. But not so theCatawba. He had armed himself with a stout war-club, and before I wasfree to stop him he had knocked two of the three sleepers senseless, andwould have battered out their brains but for the old man's intervention.
As for the officer, I had flung myself upon him in the rush and washaving a pretty handful of him. But though he was broad in theshoulders, and as agile as a cat, he was taken at a sleeping man'sdisadvantage, and so I presently had the better of him.
"Enough, man! 'tis as good as a feast!" he cried, when I had him fastpinioned; and thereupon I let him have breath and freedom to sit up. Inthe act he had his first good sight of me, as I had mine of him. 'TwasTybee and no other.
"Gad! my Captain," he said, feeling his throat. "If you have a grip likethat for your friends, I'm damned glad I'm not your enemy."
"But you are," I rejoined, rather shamefacedly, yet thankful to thefinger-tips that I had not consented to a massacre. "I am for theCongress and the Commonwealth, Lieutenant, and you are my prisoner. MayI trouble you for the despatches you carry?"
He looked up at me with a queer grimace on his boyish face.
"The devil! but you're a cool hand, Captain Ireton! Whatever you were inthat coil at Appleby, you've led the spy's long suit this time. And I'mnot sure whether I like you any the worse for it, if so be you must be arebel." And with that, he gave me the sealed packet and asked what Iwould do with him.
His query set me thinking. As for the two stunned troopers, I meant toturn them over to the old man for safe keeping; but I was loath to makeit harder than need be for this good-natured youngster. So I put himupon his honor.
"Do you know what this packet contains?" I asked.
He laughed. "My Lord did not honor me with his confidence. I was tofollow you in to Major Ferguson's camp, deliver the despatches, andvanish."
"Good; then you need tell no lies. When the Indian has fetched my horse,I shall ride to Ferguson's camp, and you may ride with me. I shall askno more than this; that you do not fight again till you are exchanged;and that you will not tell Major Ferguson whose prisoner you are. Do youaccept the terms?"
"Gad! I'd be a fool not to. But what's in the wind, Captain? Surely youcan tell me, now that I am safely out of the running."
"You will know in a day or two; and in the meantime ignorance is yourbest safety. You can tell Major Ferguson that you were waylaid on theroad by a party of the enemy, and that you were paroled and fell in withme."
He looked a little rueful, as a good soldier would, but was disposed tomake the best of a bad bargain.
"Here's my hand on it," he said; and a little later we had dragged thetwo troopers to the cabin, where the old man became surety for theirsafe keeping, and were feeling our way cautiously westward at the heelsof the Catawba who had taken his directions from our patriarch.
We pressed forward in silence through the shadowy labyrinth of the woodfor a time, but at the crossing of a small runlet where we would stop tolet the horses drink, Tybee burst out a-laughing.
"'Tis as good as a play," he said. "Three several times I've had tochange my mind about you, Captain Ireton, and I'm not cock-sure I haveyour measure yet. But I'll say this: if you've strung my Lordsuccessfully, you'll be the first to do it and come off alive in theend."
"The end is not yet, my good friend; and I may not come off better thanthe others," I rejoined. And with that we fared on again till we couldsee the camp-fires of Ferguson's little army twinkling between the treetrunks.
The Master of Appleby Page 39