XXXVIII
IN WHICH WE FIND THE GUN-MAKER
As you may be sure, Major Patrick Ferguson was far too good a soldier toleave his camp unguarded on any side, and whilst we were yet a farcannon-shot from the glimmering fires a sentry's challenge halted us.
To the man's "Halt! Who goes there?" I gave the word "Friends," salvingmy conscience for the needful lie as I might.
"Advance, friends, and give the countersign."
I confessed my ignorance of the night-word, saying that we were aparoled prisoner and a bearer of despatches, and asking that we be takento Major Ferguson's headquarters. There was some little cautiousdemurring on the part of the sentry, but finally he passed the word forthe guard-captain and we were escorted to the tent of the fieldcommander.
I marked the encampment as I could in passing through it. The littlearmy was three-fourths made up of Tory militia; and there was drinkingand song-singing and a plentiful lack of discipline around thecamp-fires of these auxiliaries. But a different air was abroad in thecamp of the regulars; you would see a soldierly alertness on the part ofthe men, and there was no roistering in that quarter.
Major Ferguson's tent was on a hillock some distance back from thestream, and thither we were conducted; we, I say, meaning Tybee andmyself, for Uncanoola had disappeared like a whiff of smoke at ourchallenging on the sentry line.
Late as it was, the major was up and hard at work. His tent table,transformed for the time into a mechanic's work-bench, was littered withgun-barrels and tools and screws and odd-shaped pieces of mechanism--thedisjointed parts of that breech-loading musket of which the ingeniousScotchman was the inventor.
Being deep in the creative trance when we came upon him, the major gaveus but an absent-minded greeting, listening with the outward ear onlywhen Tybee reported his mission, and his capture and parole.
"From my Lord, ye say? I hope ye left him well," was all the answer theLieutenant got, the inventor fitting away at his gun-puzzle the while.
Tybee made proper rejoinder and stood aside to give me room. I drew asealed inclosure from my pocket and laid it on the work-bench table.
"I also have the honor to come from my Lord Cornwallis, bringingdespatches"--so far I got in my cut-and-dried speech, and then my tongueclave to the roof of my mouth and I could no more finish the sentencethan could a man suddenly nipped in a vise. Instead of the carefullydoctored original, I had given the major the duplicate despatch takenfrom Tybee.
Ah, my dears, that was a moment for swift thought and still swifteraction; and 'tis the Ireton genius to be slow and sure and no wise "glegat the uptak'," as a Scot would say. Yet for this once my good angelgave me a prompting and the wit to use it. In that clock-tick ofbenumbing despair when the success of the hazardous venture, and muchmore that I wist not of, hung suspended by a hair over the abyss offailure, I minded me of a boyish trick wherewith I used to fright thetimid blacks in the old days at Appleby Hundred. So whilst the major wasreaching for the packet--nay, when he had it in his hand--I started backwith a warning cry, giving that imitation of the ominous _skir-r-r_ of arattlesnake which had more than once got me a cuffing from my father.
In any crisis less tremendous I should have roared a-laughing to see thedoughty major and my good friend the lieutenant vie with each other intheir skippings to escape the unseen enemy. But it was no laughingmoment for me. At a flash my sword was out and I was hacking hither andyon at the imaginary foe. In the hurly-burly I contrived to sprawl allacross the work-bench table, and the packet which would have killed myplot--and, belike, the plotter as well--was secured and quickly juggledinto hiding.
"Damme! see now what you've done; you've spilt my breech-charger allabout the place!" rasped the major, when all was over. And then: "Whothe devil are ye, anyway; and what do ye want wi' me?"
I clicked my heels, saluted, and gave him the express from my Lord--theright one, this time. He tore off the wrapping, swore a hearty soldieroath when he read the fore part of the letter and clapped his legjoyfully, like the brave gentleman that he was, when he came to the_postscriptum_.
"Ye're a fine fellow, Captain; ye've brought me good news," he said;then he bade an aide call Captain de Peyster, his second in command, andin the same breath gave Tybee and me in charge to an ensign for ourbilleting for the night.
You will conceive that I was overjoyed at this seemingly safe and easyplanting of the petard which was to blow my Lord Cornwallis's plans intothe air; and in anticipation I saw the tide-turning battle and heard thehuzzas of the mountaineer victors. But 'tis a good old saw that cautionsagainst hallooing before you are out of the wood. Captain de Peyster wascome, and Tybee and I were taking our leave of the major, when there wasa sudden commotion among the guards without, and a little man in black,his wig awry and his clothing torn by the rough man-handling of thesentries, burst into the tent.
"Seize him! seize him! he is a rebel spy!" he shrieked, pointing at me.
As you would guess, all talk paused at this dramatic interruption, andall eyes were turned upon me. Had the little viper been content to resthis charge upon the simple accusation, I know not what might havehappened. But when he got his breath he burst out in a tirade of thefoulest abuse, cursing me up one side and down the other, and ending ina gibbering fit of rage that left him pallid and foaming at thelips--and gave me my cue.
"'Tis the little madman of Queensborough," I said, coolly, explaining tothe bluff major. "His mania takes the form of a curious hatred for me,though I know not why. Two days since, he was put in arrest by my Lord'sauthority for threatening my life and that of his master's daughter.Now, it would seem, he has broken jail and followed me hither."
"A lunatic, eh? He looks it, every inch," said the major; and theblackguard lawyer, hearing my counter accusation, was doing his best togive it a savor of likelihood by fighting frantically with the twosoldiers who had followed him into the tent.
"Out wi' him!" commanded the major. "We've no time to foolish away wi' aBedlamite. Take him away and peg him out, and gi' him a dash o' water tocool his head."
Pengarvin fought like a fury, and his venomous rage defeated all hisattempts to say calmly the words which might have got him a hearing. Sohe was haled away, spitting and struggling like a trapped wildcat; andwhen we were rid of him the major bade us good night again.
Tybee held his peace like a good fellow till we had rolled us in ourblankets before one of the camp-fires. But just as I was dropping asleephe broke out with, "I would you might tell me what piece of rebelvillainy this is that I've been a winking accomplice to."
I laughed. "'Tis a thing to make Major Ferguson rejoice, as you saw. Andsurely, it can be no great villainy to give a man what he's thirstingfor. Bide your time, Lieutenant, and you shall see the outcome."
The Master of Appleby Page 40