CHAPTER IV.
OF A BROKEN SABBATH AND BROKEN HEADS.
In those days the tri-weekly stage-coaches made the trip fromPhiladelphia to New York in the unprecedented time of two days, passingBristol and several other thriving Pennsylvania villages, taking ferryover the Delaware River to Trenton, which then consisted mainly of twostraggling streets and their rustic tributaries; bowling through NewJersey woods and farms and hamlets, and crossing ferries and marshes toPaulus Hook, where the passengers alighted and boarded the ferry-boatfor the city whose fort, spires, and snug houses adorned thesouthernmost point of the hilly island of Manhattan. Several times,during the first day of their trip, Dick and MacAlister had brief sightsof the three Canadians, who sometimes fell behind the stage-coach, andas often overtook and passed it again. Dick nursed a hope of meeting theparty at dinner, or at the tavern where the coach should stop for thenight, yet he inwardly trembled at thought of such a meeting, knowinghow awkward and abashed he should feel in the presence of that girl.His hopes, however, were disappointed, for, though the riders stoppedwhere the stage did, they ate in private rooms, and the only one of theparty who came into the bar or public dining-room anywhere was theEnglish lieutenant, Blagdon, who ignored MacAlister, and bestowed onDick only a look of disdain.
On the second morning the Canadians, as before, started with the stageand were soon out of sight ahead. Dick kept a lookout forward, whileMacAlister engaged in talk with the other passengers, with whom hisnarrative powers had by this time made him highly popular. For a longtime Dick was rewarded with no glimpse of the scarlet riding-habit hiseyes so wistfully sought. But at last, at a turn of the road, it cameinto view against the green of the woods. Strangely, though, it was noton horseback. The two young gentlemen stood beside the girl in the road,and not one of their three animals was to be seen. All this was quicklynoticed by the others in the stage-coach, who uttered prompt expressionsof wonder, while the driver whipped up his four horses.
When the coach came up, Lieutenant Blagdon hailed the driver, whoimmediately stopped.
"We are in a predicament," began the young lieutenant, in an annoyed andembarrassed manner. "Half an hour ago, as we were riding by thesewoods, several wild-looking ruffians rushed out from these bushes oneither side of the road, with pistols and fowling-pieces, which theyaimed at us, and demanded our money and horses. We were so completelytaken by surprise, our anxiety for this lady's safety was so great, wecould not have drawn our pistols before they could have brought usdown,--in short, we had to yield up our horses and what little money wecarried, and the robbers made off by the lane yonder, leaving us here."
From the passengers came cries of "Outrage!" "See the authorities!" and"Alarm the county!" When others had had their say, Tom MacAlister wasfor organizing a pursuing party of the passengers, and was seconded by areverend-looking gentleman, who asked if one of the robbers was notblind of an eye.
"The affair was so quickly over, I for one did not notice anypeculiarities of appearance among them," answered Blagdon.
The young Frenchman, standing with his sister at the edge of the road,now spoke, in perfectly good English: "One of them called another Fagan,in ordering him to keep quiet; and said 'That's right, Jonathan,' to onewho said we shouldn't delay in hope of assistance, as they would shootus at the first sound of wheels or horses coming this way."
"That makes it certain," said the clerical-looking man; "they are thePine Robbers, as we call them in our part of Monmouth County, where theyare a great curse. It is surprising, though, that they should venture sofar inland and from their burrows in the sand-hills by the swamps nearthe coast. I can be of use in tracking them, as I live at Shrewsbury,which is not far from the swamps they inhabit and the groggeries theyresort to."
But the officer, learning from further talk that proper steps for therecovery of the property might require several days, and yet fail, saidthe attempt was not to be thought of; that the horses were the onlyconsiderable loss, as his party had relied on money to be taken up inNew York, and that therefore they could do no more than take places inthe stage-coach for that city.
As the inside places were all filled, and one of them would be requiredfor the girl, Dick was out in the road in an instant, blushinglyblundering out to the Frenchman an offer of his seat to the lady, withthe declaration that he would ride outside,--which in those days meanton the flat roof of the coach. The Frenchman bowed thanks and held outhis hand to lead his sister to the coach; but she stood reluctant, andsaid:
"But the portrait, Gerard!" As she spoke her eyes became moist.
"I fear we must lose it, Catherine," said Gerard, sadly.
"If I can be of any service," said Dick, speaking as calmly as hisheartbeats would let him, and meeting with hot cheeks the first look thegirl's fine eyes ever cast upon him.
"I thank you," said Gerard, "but I fear nothing can be done. My sisterspeaks of a miniature portrait of our mother, who is dead. One of therobbers, the one called Jonathan, seeing the chain by which it wassuspended from her neck, tore it from her and carried it away."
"I will try to recover it, sir," said Dick, bowing to the girl while headdressed the brother. Hearing a derisive "Huh!" behind him, Dick turnedand saw Blagdon viewing him with a contemptuous smile, which was assumedto cover the chagrin caused by Dick's undertaking a task the officerhimself had shirked. Dick reddened more deeply, with anger, but saidnothing and went to the coach for his rifle and baggage. MacAlister,always accepting whatever enterprise turned up for him, promptly gotout, with his own belongings, as also did the reverend gentleman, whoexplained that he had intended leaving the coach at the next village, togo thence by horse to his home at Shrewsbury. The vacant places weretaken by the Canadians, accounts were settled with the driver, Gerard deSt. Valier courteously thanked Dick again, giving him a New Yorkaddress but begging him to reconsider so desperate a project, Catherinesent back one grateful but hopeless look, the driver cracked his whip,the coach rolled off, and the three men were left alone in theforest-bordered road.
After a brief consultation, in which it came out that the clericalgentleman was the Reverend Mr. McKnight, the Presbyterian pastor ofShrewsbury, it was decided that the three should go back to the lastvillage passed, which was nearer than the next one ahead, hire horsesthere, then return, and make for Shrewsbury by way, first, of the lanedown which the robbers were said to have fled. They would stop atFreehold, report the robbery to the county authorities, and call for theservices of sheriff and constable in hunting down the malefactors.
"If the loss were merely of money and horses," said the pastor, as thethree trudged along with their baggage on their backs, "I should notstir far in the matter, seeing that the losers are apparently wellsupplied with this world's goods. But the young lady's sorrow at theloss of the keepsake was too much for me. It will be a kind of miracleif we get it back. The man Fagan is a desperate rascal, and so, for thatmatter, are Jonathan West and all the others. The man whom those youngpeople heard giving orders to the rest was doubtless Fenton, wholearned the blacksmith's trade at Freehold and was an excellent workmanat it before he took to crime. These men will stop at nothing. When theyare not at refuge in their sand-caves on the edges of swamps, among thebrush, they are plundering, burning, and killing, by night, or spendingtheir ill-gotten money at some low groggery in the pines. They will robanything, from a poor tailor's shop to a wagon carrying grain to mill,and, though it doesn't sound like Christian charity to say so, theyought to be hanging now in chains from trees, as they probably will besome day."
At the village, so much time was lost in obtaining horses, that it wasdark before the three arrived at Freehold, and therefore they put up forthe night at the tavern next the court-house, which abode of justice wasof wood, clapboarded with shingles, and had a peaked roof. In the tavernit was learned that Fenton and his gang had been seen passing two mileseast of the court-house, that afternoon, going towards Shrewsbury, threeon horseback, the others in a wagon. Mr. McKnight visited a justice o
fthe peace, the sheriff, and the constable; but, as it was now Saturdaynight, those useful officers would not think of budging before Monday.Dick feared that if a day were lost, even though the miniature should berecovered, the Canadians would have left New York before he could arrivethere to restore it to them. Accordingly, the next morning, the threemen set out alone towards Shrewsbury, the clergyman having stipulatedthat his share in the enterprise should be kept secret, lest his actmight serve the undiscriminating as an example of Sabbath-breaking.
"I am clear in my conscience on that score," said the minister to Tomand Dick, "and, having put my hand to the plow in this business, I willnot turn back. I can guide you to a rough drinking-place in the woods,where it is most likely the ruffians will be found. To counterbalancetheir superior numbers, we must use strategy, and we have in our favorthe fact that most of them are likely by this time to be helpless withliquor."
"'Oh, that men should put into their mouths an enemy to steal away theirbrains!'" misquoted Tom, who thought it proper that he should speakpiously in the presence of the minister.
"It is fortunate for us if they have done so, in this case," said theclergyman, with a smile. A moment later he sighed pensively. "Mycongregation will be disappointed this morning. I was expected to arrivehome last night and to preach to-day. I have my sermon in my pocket."
"What is the text, sir, if I may be so bold?" asked Tom.
"Leviticus, sixth chapter, fourth verse: 'Then it shall be, because hehath sinned, and is guilty, that he shall restore that which he tookviolently away.'"
"By the powers," cried Tom, forgetting himself, "ye're like to get moreresults putting that text into action the morning than by holding forthon it frae your ain pulpit!"
Under the pastor's guidance, the party turned presently from the roadinto the pine forest, through which their horses passed freely by reasonof the complete absence of undergrowth. MacAlister and Dick had lefttheir baggage at Freehold, and Mr. McKnight's was so light as toencumber him little. Dick and Tom had their rifles, while the ministercarried Tom's pistol. They proceeded in silence some miles, now and thenemerging on clear places, skirting swamps, and advancing over groundthat became more and more sandy. At last, in the midst of woods, theminister held his finger to his lips, and all three stopped. From adistance came the sound of a coarse voice singing in maudlin tones atuneless song. The three dismounted, tied their horses to trees, andwalked cautiously forward in single file, Mr. McKnight leading. A low,one-story log building came into view among the trees. At one end of it,under a shed roof, stood four horses and a wagon. The bawling of thesong came through a small, unglazed window, of which the oiled paper wastorn.
"They take their pleasure in security now," whispered the minister,halting a moment, "because the officers of justice will not break theSabbath to attack them. On other days they would not be so unguarded. Iwill look through the window, and see how the land lies; then we shalldecide what to do."
He led the way to the groggery and applied his eye to a slit in theoiled paper, while Dick and Tom stood on either side. In a moment, thepreacher crouched down beneath the window, and, motioning Tom and Dickto do likewise, whispered:
"There has evidently been a fight. Fagan and another are lying on thefloor with their heads bound in bloody rags. Another is lying near them,dead drunk, as his position shows. Jonathan West is sitting on thefloor, also drunk; it is he who is singing. Fenton and Burke are playingcards, Fenton's back towards the door, Burke facing it. The keeper ofthe place is lying asleep on the bar, and his wife is behind it paringpotatoes. If we are speedy, two of us shall have only Fenton and Burkeand the woman to deal with, while one goes through West's clothes insearch of the miniature."
"Then let us go in at once," said Dick.
"Softly," quoth the minister; "let us all understand what each is to do.You, lad, perhaps should search West--"
"Nay," put in Tom; "trust me for that. I've plied my fingers on thebattle-field, and can do the thing so quick I can tak' my ain fu' shareof the fighting, too."
"You are right," said the pastor. "The door is unbarred. Let us allthree burst in at once. You, lad, who look the strongest, deal withFenton, the man sitting with his back to the door. Strike him down withthe butt of your rifle, and be ready to shoot if he attempts to rise. Ishall take care of the other card-player. You, Captain MacAlister,search Jonathan West for the portrait, and keep your eye on the womanbehind the bar. If I am not mistaken, she will prove the worst foe ofall."
At MacAlister's suggestion, he and Dick each looked through the slit toget a view of the chosen field of battle. Then the three stepped softlyaround to the door. Each grasped his weapon tightly, and the ministerpushed the door open. All made a move to rush in,--but started back onbeing confronted by Fenton and Burke, who stood, each with pistolraised, doubtless put suddenly on their guard by the sound of footsteps.
Old Tom was the first to recover from surprise. He made a swift lunge atBurke, which caught that person in the neck, almost breaking it, andsent him flying back into the room. Tom leaped after him, and wasfollowed by the minister. Fenton turned to shoot the latter with hispistol, and Dick availed himself of this movement to bring down hisrifle-butt heavily on the rascal's unkempt head. Fenton did not fall,but, after staggering a moment, during which Dick reversed his weapon,turned to shoot the latter, uttering a savage curse the while; he thusopened his mouth wide, and Dick thrust the muzzle of the rifle therein,and forced Fenton rapidly backward into the groggery, to the veryfarthest corner thereof, pinning him therein with the rifle-muzzle inhis mouth. "Drop the pistol, or I'll fire," cried Dick; and Fenton,perceiving his disadvantage, did so. Dick kicked the pistol towards theminister, who picked it up. The gentle McKnight had been raining blowson the head of Burke, who now succumbed and lay without protest, leavingthe minister free to draw the woman's attention from Tom. She had runaround the bar and threatened with her knife the deft-fingeredMacAlister while the latter was going through West's clothes, anoperation preceded by a quieting blow on the robber's skull from Tom'srifle-butt. Of the four prostrate men, the drunkest one slept on throughthe fray, the two gory-headed rascals opened their eyes and looked onwith apathy, while the proprietor got down off the bar and looked aroundfor some weapon with which to take a hand. At this moment Dick, whocontinued to hold the ferocious but speechless Fenton against the wall,felt something smooth slipped into his left hand, heard from Tom thewords, "'Tis yours to guard, lad," saw at an instant's glance that itwas the miniature portrait of a woman, and thrust it into his waistcoatpocket. The proprietor of the place had now picked up a fowling-piecefrom a corner and was aiming it at Dick. It was knocked up byMacAlister, who then fell on its holder and was in a fair way to beatout his brains, when the woman, having seen her spouse in danger,abandoned her contest with the minister, and bounded panther-like atTom. She lodged the point of her knife in his cheek, and drew it out fora second blow, whereupon the minister, putting a pistol in each of hiscoat-pockets, ran up behind her, caught her by the long hair, anddragged her out of the house. He did not stop until she was on her backon the ground. Before she could rise, Tom had sent her husband reelingwith a final blow, and had come to aid the minister, knowing that thelatter had more than a match in the woman. Tom placed his feet on herhair, which was lying about her head, and, digging his heels into thesandy earth, put the muzzle of his rifle against her forehead, and toldher it was his custom, as a soldier, to make short work of cutthroatshe-devils of camp-following buzzards. So she lay still, glaring andpanting. Mr. McKnight reentered the groggery, aimed both his pistols atFenton, and told Dick to release that worthy and back out of the placewith rifle kept ready to shoot. Dick obeyed, and backed out side by sidewith the minister. A minute later, the three thief-hunters were runningfor their horses. They mounted, and made their way back to the placewhere they had turned into the pines from the road.
"And won't ye stand in danger of retaliation from the devils?" queriedMacAlister, as Mr. McKnight turned to take leave.
"I think they were so drunk, and the thing was so quickly done, they didnot know me from a stranger like yourselves. They would not suspect aminister of such work on a Sabbath day."
"Begorra, if more such work was done by ministers on Sabbath days, moreof the wicked would get punishment in this world! By the Lord, 'twas afine illustration ye gave of the penalties that follow wrong-doing, andnone the waur for that ye thumped a rascal's head instead of the pulpit,and made the way of the transgressor hard instead of merely saying itwas."
"That's the grandest minister I ever saw, and the only sermon I neverwent to sleep at," said MacAlister to Dick, as the two rode back towardsFreehold, Mr. McKnight having taken his way towards Shrewsbury after afriendly farewell and a tender of his compliments to the young lady towhom Dick was to restore the miniature.
That night they slept at the village where they had hired their horses.They had to lose another day in waiting till the stage-coach camealong, and so it was Tuesday morning when they found themselves again ona "Flying Machine" bound for New York. This time MacAlister's face wastied up in cloths, the wound in his cheek being not serious, but vastlyinconvenient for the time being. "Another war-scar, bedad!" quoth he. "Amark of the battle of Shrewsbury Pines."
The greater part of the journey was dampened by a series of Aprilshowers, but when they arrived at Paulus Hook and descended from thecoach, the sun reappeared for a brief display before setting. As theycrossed in the ferry to New York, that English-Dutch-Huguenot seaporttown, in the midst of its hills and trees, seemed to smile upon them.Looking out towards the bay, with its backing of green heights, Dick gothis first hint of the ocean beyond, and was deeply stirred thereat. Inthose days a beach ran at the foot of bluffs that were crowned bygardens and other grounds behind the spacious residences on the westside of Broadway. There was no commerce along the North River, all theDutch Hudson sloops and the New Jersey boats rounding the point to makelanding in the East River. Dick's gaze, coming in from the bay, past thegreen islands, close at hand, rested successively on the fort whosewalls rose from sloping green banks, the governor's garden, the waterends of crooked streets, the little forest of masts in the East River,the tiny village of Brooklyn nestling at the foot of the heights on LongIsland, and finally on the ferry landing-place, on which he and Tompresently set foot. On the recommendation of a fellow passenger on theferry, they took lodgings in a small tavern near the Whitehall slip.During supper Dick was absent-minded and perturbed. He was all afire toreturn the miniature to Miss de St. Valier. Tom advised him to wait tillthe next day, as it was now quite late. But Dick was fearful theCanadian party might depart before he could see them. Moreover, theprospect of again beholding the entrancing Catherine and receivingthanks from her own lips, although a delicious one, was alsodisquieting, and Dick was anxious to face the interview at the earliestpossible moment. He therefore put himself and his clothes into the bestpossible appearance, and, while Tom sought the Coffee House, found theway to the boarding-house in Queen Street at which Gerard de St. Valierhad told him the party would stay. At the door, where he inquired withmuch concealed trepidation, a black servant told him the Canadians hadleft. His heart sank, but rose again a moment later, when the mistressof the house, Mrs. Carroll, having overheard, told him the St. Valiersand Lieutenant Blagdon had gone to the King's Arms Tavern for their lastnight in New York, intending to take sloop the next morning for Albany.It was now dark, the street lamps having been lighted for some time, andDick decided that, after all, the morning would be the more suitabletime for approaching the Canadians. Being very tired and desiring torise early, he went to bed, and dreamt of the eyes of Miss de St.Valier.
The next morning he made a hasty breakfast, and was already on the wayto the King's Arms when it occurred to him that he might make himselfridiculous by intruding on the peerless Catherine too early. Hetherefore walked about the town awhile, viewing the markets near theEast River; then going up Broad Street from the Exchange to the CityHall of that day; then admiring the marble image of William Pitt in aRoman toga, at Wall and William Streets; the great dry goods shops inWilliam Street, up to Maiden Lane; the fine broad red and yellow brickresidences, some with many windows, double-pitched and tile-coveredroofs, balustrades and gardens, in William Street, Queen Street, HanoverSquare, and elsewhere: finally crossing to the Broadway, and beholdingthe leaden statue of King George, in the Bowling Green or parade-groundbefore the fort. At last he entered the King's Arms, which was next butone to the fine Kennedy house at the foot of the west side of Broadway,both facing the Bowling Green and fort. In the public room he saw Tom,who sat reading the New York _Gazette_, and who now merely winked athim, being of no mind to figure with him in the restoration of theportrait. Dick put on a bold face and asked the man in charge toannounce him to Mr. and Miss de St. Valier.
"And, pray, what do you desire of them?" queried an insolent voice atDick's elbow. He looked around and encountered Lieutenant Blagdon, whostood eyeing him with a manifest resentment that betrayed an uneasydivination of Dick's purpose.
Dick was on the point of answering hotly, but contented himself with adefiant look and the quiet reply:
"I wish to restore the portrait of which Miss de St. Valier was robbedwhile in your company last Saturday."
Blagdon's wrath was now mingled with chagrin, at the confirmation of hisfear that another had accomplished for the lady the task he had notoffered to undertake. After a moment's pause, controlling hisexpression, he said:
"Miss de St. Valier and her brother left New York yesterday. As I sailafter them on the next Albany sloop, you can give me the portrait. I'llcarry it to them."
Dick looked the other in the face for a moment in surprise, then said,with a contempt as genuine as the lieutenant's was affected:
"You lie, you know they are still here."
"What!" gasped Blagdon, and turned to an Irish officer in whose companyhe was,--for there were still a few British troops in New York, the lastof them not leaving the barracks in Chambers Street for Boston untilJune 6th. "By God, did you hear that?" And with great fury, Blagdon, whowas himself unarmed, grasped the other officer's sword, drew it from thesheath, and would have thrust it into Dick's breast, had not thePennsylvanian quickly leaped aside. Furious in turn, at so sudden andviolent an onslaught, Dick caught the sword with both hands near theguard, wrenched it from Blagdon, and struck the latter heavily on thehead with the hilt. The lieutenant fell, leaving a curse unfinished, andlay quite motionless on the floor.
After a moment, during which every one in the room stood startled, theIrish officer stooped over Blagdon, felt his head and chest, and said,looking up:
"He's done for! The blow has killed him!"
Dick heard a whisper in his ear, "Run for your life, lad!" and felthimself pushed aside by old Tom, who gave no sign of knowing him, andthe seeming purpose of whose violent movement was to get a look at theprostrate man.
Mechanically, as in a dream, Dick took the hint and sped out of thetavern. As he issued forth, a picture of the Bowling Green with itsstatue and locust-trees, the green and gray fort and the one linden andtwo apple-trees that stood on the city side thereof, was imprintedlastingly on his memory, heedless as he was of it at the time. Stillholding the officer's sword, and with no course determined on, he ran upthe Broadway. He had not gone far, when he heard a shout behind him,doubtless from some witness of the blow, "Murder! Murder! Stop thatman!" On he went, while the hue and cry gathered behind him. Up theroughly paved Broadway, steering wide alike of the house-stoops at theside and the gutter in the middle, he ran. Once, as he neared TrinityChurch, he glanced back. The pursuing crowd behind him now looked amultitude, and at its head, crying "Stop that man!" louder than anyother, but giving him a quick gesture to hasten on, was Tom MacAlister.
The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure Page 7