From Kingdom to Colony

by Mary Devereux

  CHAPTER XII

  He had scarcely gone when the two girls made haste to leave the caveand return to the house.

  "'T is most unfortunate for us, Dot, that he found the cave, or thatall this should befall," said Mary, as they went down the rocks. "Youknow what we have to do to-night; and it may make our work dangerous,now that he has been here."

  A soft whistle interrupted Dorothy's reply; and looking up, they sawthe lean visage of Johnnie Strings, who was perched upon the rocksabove the cave they had just left.

  Having attracted their attention, the pedler made haste to join them.

  "Well, I snum!" he exclaimed. "Mistress Mary, whatever was theBritisher seekin' about here, an' talkin' about? What ailed his head,all tied up, like 't was hurt?"

  "He said he heard us talking, and came to see who it was," small 'Bithatook it upon herself to explain, "and Mary Broughton pushed him downthe rocks."

  Johnnie began to laugh, but Dorothy turned to the child and said,"'Bitha, you know that it is not true, for he stepped backward himself,and fell over."

  "Yes; but 't was Mary made him," 'Bitha insisted. "And, 'though I wassorry to have him hurt, I was glad Mary made him go away."

  "Were you there all the time, Johnnie Strings, and never came nigh tohelp us?" demanded Mary, indignantly. They were now walking alongtogether, for Johnnie seemed inclined to accompany them to the house.

  "Nay, nay, mistress," he declared emphatically, but still grinning, asthough vastly pleased. "But I should say ye needed no help from me tofrighten away redcoats. I only came up as I heard Mistress Dorothy sayyou'd made him fall into the water. Then I sat an' watched her tie uphis head,--more 's the pity; for belike he'll only use it to hatch moredeviltry for his soldiers to carry out hereabouts."

  "Do you know who he is?" inquired Dorothy, her face taking on a littlemore color.

  "Yes, mistress,--he is a dragoon. I saw him over at Salem t' otherday. They call him Cornet Southorn; an' I only hope he don't get toknow my face too well." Johnnie winked as he said this, and his voicehad a note of mystery.

  "I don't believe he would ever harm us," said Dorothy, paying noattention to the pedler's anxiety concerning himself.

  Johnnie's eyes fastened upon her glowing face with a look of surpriseas he remarked grimly, "He's a Britisher, an' our sworn enemy."

  On the porch of the house they found Joseph Devereux, who listened withfrowning brows while the girls told him of their adventure.

  "Go within, child, to the grandame," he bade 'Bitha, when they hadfinished; and as soon as she was gone he said to the pedler, "Now,Strings, you may, or may not, know aught o' the work in hand for thenight."

  The pedler nodded understandingly. "Me an' Lavinia Amelia jogged a bito' the mornin' down road with the party from here, an' I was reckonin'to offer my help, should it be needed. I was on my way this verymornin' to tell ye that Master Broughton an' the rest thought I'dbetter have some of our own men 'round hereabouts, handy for the powderparty to-night."

  "'T is best that you do so, as matters have turned out. And 't iswiser that you be trusted to give the signals to the 'Pearl,' for asafe landing o' the stuff, and that Mary and Dorothy be left out o' thematter altogether. 'T is no work for women to risk, with the Britishsoldiery skulking about the place."

  The day passed without event, save that a number of men--mostly brawny,weather-beaten sailors--came to the house, to go away again after aprivate converse with Joseph Devereux.

  Johnnie Strings was about the place all day,--now wandering down to thebeach to look out over the wide expanse of ocean, as he whittledunceasingly at a bit of stick and whistled softly to himself, or elsesitting on the steps of the porch, telling wonderful stories to 'Bitha.But wherever he was, or what doing, his keen little eyes were alwaysroving here and there, as though on the lookout for somethingunexpected.

  It was evident that he was nervous and ill at ease; and this, forJohnnie Strings, was a new thing.

  Toward sunset he arose from the porch steps and gave a great sigh, asof relief that the day was ended. Then, without a word to any one, hetramped off in the direction of the Neck.

  "'T is as well," he muttered to himself, "to see what the devils bedoin', an' if they be like to suspect what is goin' on about 'em."

  The sunset was of marvellous beauty. It was as if all the golds,purples, and scarlets of the hour had been pounded to a fine dust, andthis was rolling in from over the ocean in one great opaline mist.

  The waves, curling in to break upon the sands of Riverhead Beach,seemed to be pouring out flames and sparks; while the quieter waters ofGreat Bay, on the other side of the causeway, looked as though shotthrough with long, luminous rays of light, that slanted athwart themists of prismatic coloring, to withdraw swiftly now and again, likesearch-lights seeking to probe the clear water to its uttermost depths.

  But the far-off eastern horizon held aloof from all this glory. Itstood out like a wall of pearl and cold gray, with no sail showingagainst it to Johnnie Strings' sharp eyes, as he took his way acrossthe narrow strip of causeway that left the Devereux estate behind, andled to the Neck and the enemy's camp.

  The pedler knew nothing of the passion called love, else he would neverhave been so lacking in shrewdness as to formulate the scheme nowworking in his mind. And this, notwithstanding the suspicion that hadshot through his wide-awake brain at the way he had seen CornetSouthorn looking into the downcast face of Dorothy Devereux, and hadnoted later her words in his defence.

  His present idea--and one that had been gathering force all day--was tosee the young officer, and while pretending to have come solely toinquire as to his injury, to so lead the talk as to impress upon hismind the needlessness of watching the Devereux place or household,which he should be made to understand consisted only of the women-folkand one enfeebled old gentleman,--the son being away in Boston.

  And now, as he neared the enemy's quarters, he chuckled to himself atthe cleverness of his scheme.

  The British troops had taken possession of the entire Neck, occupyingseveral large warehouses standing near the end, and appropriating eventhe buildings used by the lighthouse-keeper and his wife, who, with hertwo children and as many of her most precious possessions as she couldcarry, had gone across the bay to abide with friends in the town.

  Johnnie Strings knew this, and gritted his teeth in silent rage as hesaw a group of redcoats standing around a fire where they were cookingsome of the good woman's chickens for their evening meal.

  They hailed him good-naturedly, and invited him to join them, severalof the soldiers recognizing him as one from whom they had purchasedcertain things necessary for their comfort.

  But he declined their offer, and pulling his hat well over hisforehead, the better to conceal his features, went on beyond to anothergroup, and demanded to be taken to the presence of Cornet Southorn,speaking in a way to imply that he had an important message for thatofficer.

  He was ushered at once into the front room of the lighthouse-keeper'sabode, where, upon a settle drawn near the window overlooking GreatBay, sat the personage he desired to see.

  The young man's head was still bandaged, and the table before him withfood and dishes upon it was evidence of his having supped alone; thisconfirming what Johnnie Strings had suspected,--that the soldiers uponthe Neck were at present under the charge of Cornet Southorn.

  Captain Shandon, who should have been there,--an elegant fop, high infavor with the Governor,--was sure to avoid any rough service, such asthis, preferring to remain until the last moment in Salem, where betterfare, both as to food and wines, to say naught of the gentler sex, wasto be had.

  Johnnie Strings stood in the shadow, without removing his hat, asCornet Southorn demanded pleasantly enough to know his business.

  "I came to see how your head was doin' at this hour o' the day, youngsir," the pedler answered in an obsequious tone.

  As the last two words came from his lips, the officer scowled. He wasonly five-and-twenty,
and looked still younger; and he was boyishenough to resent any familiarity grounded upon his seeming youth.

  "Have a care, old man, as to how you address His Majesty's officers,"he said with some severity, accompanied by a pompousness illy inkeeping with his frank, boyish face.

  "I meant no harm, Cornet Southorn," the pedler replied in an apologeticway. "I saw ye over at Salem t' other day, when I was peddlin' mywares there; an' I've been all day at the house o' Mistress DorothyDevereux, the young lady who tied up your hurt head this mornin'. Andso"--here Johnnie smiled knowingly--"I came to see if ye were any theworse for your fall, which might have been a bit o' bad luck, had notthe ledge caught ye an' held ye from slippin' into the sea."

  The young man's manner changed at once.

  "Did Mistress Dorothy Devereux send you to inquire?" he asked eagerly.

  "She send me?" said the pedler cautiously, and lowering his voice."Lawks! 't is well her old father don't hear ye; 'though sure he bethat feeble he's good for little but tongue fight, an' the only son beaway to Boston for this many a day. An' that," he went on to sayquickly, seeing that the young man was about to speak, "is one reasonwhy 't is well for me to be about the place till the brother cares tocome home, with all those women-folk there, an' no man but the oldfather, who is feeble, as I've said. An' 't is not very safe for them,who be easily frighted by strange men comin' 'round, 'speciallysoldiers."

  This was a long speech for Johnnie to make, and he watched narrowly itseffect upon the young officer. This was soon apparent, for he said atonce, "You have done well to tell me of this, and I'll see to it thatnone of my men cause any annoyance to the ladies."

  He fell so neatly into the trap that Johnnie Strings could scarcelykeep from laughing outright; but all he said was--and very meekly: "Yebe most kind, sir, an' I'll tell Mistress Dorothy what ye say. An'I'll tell her as well that your head be none the worse for its thumpin'on the rocks." With this he backed toward the door.

  "No, no," said Southorn, "my head is all right. But come back, won'tyou,--come and have something to drink before you go?" And he poundedvigorously on the table.

  But Johnnie declined, with many thanks, asserting that he never drankanything,--a statement fully in accord with his fictitious storyconcerning the Devereux household. But he reckoned upon havingaccomplished his purpose, and so bowed himself out, just as a red-facedorderly appeared in response to his officer's summons.

  "Never mind, Kief," said the latter, as the soldier stood stiffly inthe doorway awaiting his orders. "I don't need you now." Then, as theman saluted and turned to go, he asked, "Who is that fellow who justleft? Do you know?"

  "Johnnie Strings, sir, the pedler; 'most everybody knows 'im 'twixtBoston town and Gloucester."

  "Ah, yes, I've heard of him before. That is all, Kief; you may go."

  As soon as he was alone, Kyrle Southorn, Cornet in His Majesty'sDragoons, bethought himself of how strangely lacking he had been inproper dignity during his brief interview with this humble pedler; anda feeling of sharp anger beset him for a moment as he took himself totask for his unofficerlike demeanor and manner of speech.

  Then came a mental picture of the distracting face he had seen thatsame morning; he seemed to be looking once more into the girl's eyes,and feeling the soft touch of her little hands about his head.

  He recalled all this, and gave utterance to a queer, short laugh, asthough in the effort to excuse his folly.

  "Either that girl has bewitched me," he muttered, lying back in hischair, "or else the cut in my head has been making me addlepated allday." And he let his gaze wander out through the window, where thedusk was coming fast, blotting out the fort and town like a dark veil,pierced here and there by the dimly twinkling lights showing from thehouses.

  "I wonder if she sent the fellow?" his thoughts ran on. "She told meshe was sorry for my being hurt, and she looked it. But the other--thefair one--she was a tartar." And he laughed again at the recollectionof Mary Broughton's angry blue eyes and dauntless bearing.

  "From what I've seen of these folk," he said, now half aloud, "it willbe no easy matter to suppress their meetings and make them obey HisMajesty's laws. They seem not to know what fear or submission maymean." Then, after pondering a few minutes, "I wonder if it would notbe a wise thing for me to call upon this man Devereux, as he is so oldand feeble, and assure him and his women-folk that I will see to itthey be not molested--annoyed in any way? I might see her again,--Imight come to know her; and this would be very pleasant." And now histhoughts trailed away into rosy musings.

  If Johnnie Strings had not added fresh fuel to the fire already kindledin the breast of the impetuous young Englishman by Dorothy's sweet faceand pitying eyes,--had he not made it burn more fiercely by giving himreason to believe that she had sent to inquire for his welfare,--hemight not have thought to carry out his present impulse.

  He was seized by a strong desire to see for himself the place where shedwelt,--to look upon her surroundings,--to make more perfect thepicture already in his mind, by adding to it the scenes amid which herdaily life was passed.

  Such was the young man's desire; and his was a nature whose longing waslikely to manifest itself by acts, and more especially now, in the veryfirst heart affair of his life.

  As soon as the guards were posted and the countersign given out, hediscarded his uniform for a fisherman's rough coat, and put on a largeslouch hat, which covered his head, bandage and all. And thus attired,he set forth alone to visit the scene of his morning's adventure, andto investigate its surroundings.