Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas

by Sara Beaumont Kennedy

  CHAPTER XII.

  A MESSAGE OUT OF THE NORTH.

  "I love thee, and I feel That in the fountain of my heart a seal Is set, to keep its waters pure and bright For thee." --SHELLEY.

  "It's all very well for our husbands and sons to be away fighting fortheir country--I'd horsewhip one of mine who sneaked at home; but forall that, this manless state of the town is a terrible test to thetidiness and the tempers of the womenfolk," said Mistress Strudwick, asshe sat on her porch with some chosen cronies, and watched the younggirls of the town promenading in the aftermath of the July sunset withnever a cavalier among them. "Look at Lucinda Hardy, she's as cross as apatch; and yonder is Janet Cameron, who has not curled her hair for aweek--just mops it up any way, since there are no men to see it."

  "And there's 'Liza Jones without her stays," said Mistress Clevering.

  "Yes, and looking for all the world like a comfortable pillow that hasjust been shaken up; but if there was a man under threescore in seeingdistance, she'd be as trim as you please," replied Mistress Strudwick."Heigh-ho, what a slipshod world this would be if there were nobody butwomen in it!"

  "And what a topsy-turvy place 'twould be with only men. Nobody'd everknow where anything was," said quiet Mistress Cheshire, with poignantrecollections of striving to keep up with the belongings of twohusbands. "Depend upon it, Martha Strudwick, the world would be a dealworse off without women than without men, for men never can findanything."

  "I am quite of your mind, Mary. In sooth, I always had a sneaking notionthat Columbus brought his wife along when he came to discover America,and that 'twas she who first saw the land," said Sally Ruffin.

  "I don't seem to remember that there was a Mistress Columbus," said AnnClevering, biting off her thread with a snap.

  "Well, goodness knows there had ought to have been, for Columbus had ason," replied Martha Strudwick, greatly scandalized, although her ownknowledge in the matter was somewhat hazy.

  "How 'pon earth did we ever get to talking such wise things as history?"asked Mistress Cheshire, whose _forte_ was housewifely recipes.

  "We were saying as how men never could find things."

  "Oh, yes."

  "Well," said Martha Strudwick, thoughtfully, "that depends on what kindof things you mean. Now there's my husband--and he's a good man, good ascommon--he can find a fish-hook in the dark if it's good biting season;but he can't see the long-handled hoe in the broad daylight if it'sweeding time in the garden and the sun is hot. Finding things dependsmore on a man's mind than his eyes."

  "Then there's a heap of them who lose their minds mighty handy,"retorted Ann Clevering.

  Mistress Cheshire pushed back her chair: "I shall run home and cautionDilsy about putting the bread to rise; she's that unseeing that I thinkProvidence must have first meant her to be a man." Which was as near ajoke as anything Mistress Cheshire ever said. As she trotted away theothers looked after her affectionately.

  "Mary is such a mild-mannered woman," said Ann Clevering; "many's thetime I've heard her first husband--dead and gone these twenty-threeyears--say it was an accident little short of a miracle how Providencecould make a woman with so little tongue."

  "Joscelyn, with her goings-on, must be a dreadful trial to her," sighedAmanda Bryce.

  "And not only to her mother, but to the whole town," snapped anotherwoman.

  "Hoity-toity!" bristled Mistress Strudwick, "what's the matter withJoscelyn? She is the very life of the place, now that the men are gone.If 'twere not for discussing her, and abusing her,"--with a witheringglance at the last speaker,--"we should go tongue-tied for lack ofsomewhat to talk about. She's a tonic for us all, and without her we'dbe going to sleep."

  "Sleep is a good thing," sniffed Amanda Bryce.

  "Ay," retorted Mistress Strudwick, "when you are tucked in bed and thelights are out, it is; but not when you are standing up flat-footed withbaking and brewing and weaving and such things to look after. Joscelyn'sall right, Tory though she be. Look at her now, with all those red rosesstuck around her belt; she's the finest sight on the street."

  "Fine enough to look at, I'm not gainsaying you; what I object to ishearing her when she talks about our war."

  "Well, Amanda, if our swords were all as sharp as her tongue can be, thewar would soon be over."

  "You always were partial to the lass, Martha."

  "Ay, I often told Richard Clevering I'd be his rival were I a man, oldor young; and truly I believe Joscelyn would look with more favour uponme of the two," laughed the corpulent dame, remembering the soft littletouches with which the girl sometimes tidied up her gray hair and unrulyneckerchief, and the caress upon her cheek that always closed the job.

  "I wonder you can take up so for her, Martha, when all your menfolk arein the Continental army, and she a rank Tory."

  "Oh, I can forgive a woman her politics, because, like a man'sreligion, it's apt to be picked up second-hand and liable to change atany time."

  "Don't you believe men have any true religion?"

  "Well, ye-e-s; if the rain comes in season, and the crops are good, andthe cattle don't break into the corn, and their victuals are wellcooked, they are apt to be middling religious."

  "Remember you have a husband of your own."

  "Yes, praise God, I have, and a good man he is, too; but when the dam inthe levee breaks, or the cows get the hollow-horn, he's that rearing,tearing put out that he couldn't say offhand whether preordination orgeneral salvation was the true doctrine; but the time never comes whenhe's too mad or too worried to know he's a Whig, every hair of him. Thatis what makes me say religion is a picked-up habit with men and politicsis their nature. With a woman it's the other way; so I laugh atJoscelyn's politics, and kiss her bonny face and love her all the time."

  "That is more than I can do. If it were not for her mother, I shouldforbid my daughter to have aught to do with her," said Amanda Bryce,sniffily, as Joscelyn passed the gate with Betty Clevering and JanetCameron, and called up a pleasant "good afternoon" to the elder women.

  "Well, your girl and not Joscelyn would be the loser thereby," retortedMartha Strudwick, regardless of the fact that she was in her own house;and there would doubtless have been sharp words had not MistressClevering interposed with some gentle remonstrance.

  A little later the whole party of young people began to move toward thetavern; for it was the day the post was due, if by good fortune it hadescaped the marauders and highwaymen who, in the assumed name of war,infested the roads. Always there was a crowd about the tavern onThursday afternoons, in hopes that news of the fighting and of friendswould be forthcoming. This particular day they were not disappointed;for the women on the porch, looking up the street, presently saw thatsomething unusual was to pay, and forgetful of bonnets or caps, theyhastened to learn what it was. The postbag, with its slender store, layneglected on the table, for the crowd had gathered eagerly about someone on the steps, and exclamations and questions filled the air.

  "What is it?" demanded Mistress Strudwick, breathless from her haste,and the crowd divided and showed a lad, pale and worn, sitting on thesteps.

  "Billy, my Billy!" shrieked Amanda Bryce, and passing the other women,she caught him in her arms and hugged him frantically. For a few momentsno one spoke or interfered, but after the dame had kissed every squareinch of his face, and had felt his head, shoulders, and arms forfractures, Martha Strudwick interposed.

  "Come, Billy, tell us where you come from and what news you bring fromthe front. Has there been a fight, boy?"

  "Ay, and a victory for us."

  "A victory? Hurrah! When? Where? Talk quick!" cried a dozen voicesshrill with their eagerness.

  "At Monmouth town in Jersey. 'Twas there we overtook Clinton as he madefor New York."

  "We have already had rumours of it. And you did fight him and put him torout? Who fell, and who was wounded? Can't you talk faster?"

  "Truly we did fight when we got the chance, though Lee--t
he foul fiendstake him!--tried hard not to let us. It was the hottest day I ever felt.The sand and dust--"

  "Never mind about the sand and dust; tell us of the battle."

  And so by piecemeal, with many a question and interruption, he told themthe story of that remarkable battle and his own capture.

  "And who was taken with you?"

  "Master Peter Ruffin, Amos Andrews, and Richard Clevering from ourcompany, and some threescore more whom I knew not."

  But only a few heard the last clause of his sentence, for among thewomen were relatives and friends of each of the men mentioned, and therewere sobs and moans for the fate of their loved ones. So great was theabhorrence in which British prisons were held, that death seemed almostpreferable. Then presently Betty Clevering cried shrilly:--

  "And if you were captured, how comes it you are here?"

  "I escaped."

  "And how many escaped with you?"

  "None--none; not even Richard."

  Mistress Ruffin took him sharply by the arm. "Do you mean to say that astrip of a lad like you had sense enough to get away, and grown men wereheld? That's a pretty tale!"

  And then with stifled sobs he told of Richard's sacrifice and his owngetting away.

  "For an hour I waited there in the grass, hoping for him to come; andwhen I dared stay no longer I crept to the hillside and hid in a littlecave, from which I watched the army in the distance take up its marchnext day. I started once to go back and die with Richard in prison,but--"

  "Talk not so, my son; 'twould have killed me and done Richard no good,"cried his mother, caressing his curly head against her shoulder."Richard did not want you back--God bless him for a generous lad!"

  "No," sobbed the lad, "he is so noble, so good; and I let him go back,let him sacrifice himself for me, for had I but slept on he would havegotten away."

  All this while Mistress Clevering had not spoken; now she lifted herhead, and no mother of Sparta ever looked more proud or more resigned.

  "Yes, you were right to come away; he gave you your freedom at the costof his own, and it would have grieved him had you returned and made thesacrifice useless. 'Tis a beautiful thing to be the mother of a son likethat. I am content." And Martha Strudwick leaned over and kissed hersoftly.

  "And how fared it with you when the British had marched away?" asked hismother of Billy.

  "I reached the coast and followed it for two days, when I came to avillage whence a trading vessel was leaving to smuggle its cargo to thesouth. The captain took me on, and after ten days I was put ashore nearNew Berne town, from which place I have made my way home, travellingwith the post these two days."

  "You have not then been back to the army?"

  "No, but I shall start to-morrow, now that I have seen you, mother, andwhen I have given Richard's messages to Mistress Clevering and--"

  He stopped; but his glance had travelled to Joscelyn standing at theedge of the crowd, and Janet Cameron laughed.

  "What said my boy? Out with it!" cried Mistress Clevering, eagerly.

  "He did send you his dear love, even as he was to bring mine to motherhad I been the one left behind. I would I could tell you how reverentand tender his voice was when he spoke your name."

  The Spartan in the woman broke down, and the mother prevailed. "My son,my dear son, did God give you in answer to my prayers only to take youaway like this? What may he not be suffering at this very moment, and Iwho have watched him from his cradle powerless to help him! Oh, but waris a cruel thing! My son, my son!"

  Betty and Mistress Cheshire led her away weeping, and for a few minutes,silence held the women as they looked away to the north and thought ofthe strife enacting, and the pain being endured there for liberty. Andbesides those carried away into captivity, how many others--perhapstheir own nearest and dearest--had been left on the battle-field?

  "See," cried Amanda Bryce, turning fiercely on Joscelyn, whose eyes,full of a misty tenderness, were following Aunt Clevering down thestreet--"see what you miserable Tories are doing to us, your neighbours!Shame upon you, I say; shame upon you!"

  "Ay, shame upon you!" cried several voices; and faces scowled and a fewfists were clenched. The girl cowered back, amazed, affrighted.

  "Pull those red roses out of her belt; we want no Tory colours here!"cried Amanda Bryce; and two or three hands reached toward the knot ofscarlet blossoms. But Joscelyn, her eyes beginning to kindle, steppedback and raised her own hand warningly.

  "Do not touch me! Yes, I am a Tory, as you are pleased to call us,and I am not ashamed that the king's army hath been preserved fromdestruction; but I am sorry, very sorry your friends and kindred areto suffer--though perhaps some punishment is necessary to rebels."

  Mistress Strudwick started to the girl's side, but little Billy Brycewas before her.

  "Who touches Joscelyn must first pass me!" he cried to the angry women."Mother, be silent! What share could a girl like this have in ourcapture; and what matters a few men taken when the victory was ours?"

  "Yes, praise God, we thrashed the miserable cowards of Redcoats as theydeserved."

  "A great thrashing 'twas, when they lost not a wagon of their train, andtook more prisoners than Washington," Joscelyn answered tartly.

  A dozen voices answered her angrily, and she opened her lips to reply,but Mistress Strudwick clapped her broad palm over the girl's mouth.

  "Hold your saucy tongue, Joscelyn; and you girls, there, be silent thisminute. What, is the war to ruin the manners of our women that they candescend so low as to brawl in the public streets? Shame upon you, everyone! What hath come of your senses that you thus demean yourselves andbelittle the raising your elders gave you?"

  The reproof had the desired effect; for the girl stood silent andabashed, and her angry assailants drew back. Taking advantage of thelull, Mistress Strudwick seized Joscelyn by the arm and almost forciblydrew her away.

  "Begone to your home, and bide there till you learn some sense," shecried sharply. "What's the use in butting your brains out against awall, when there's room enough to go around it? There is no fool like aself-made fool! Go." But when the girl had gone a few steps she made herreturn. "Promise me truly," she whispered, "that you'll go straight homeand stay until the fire you kindled here burns down a bit--promise youwill not stir from the house, or I shall not sleep to-night."

  "I promise, dear Mistress Strudwick," Joscelyn said, kissing the bighand that patted her cheek. "You heard me say I was sorry our townsfolkwere taken, and so I am."

  "Yes, yes. Harkee, tell your mother I say to be sure and send AmandaBryce a loaf of hot bread for supper--Billy will be hungry with runningso far from Monmouth," she said, with a meaning wink. In truth, sheintended the hot bread as a peace-offering to Mistress Bryce, for itwas by such small acts of quiet diplomacy that she kept down the enmityagainst the Cheshires, or rather against Joscelyn, since she it was whoaroused the resentment.

  Slowly the girl went down the street thinking of the scene just passed.Mistress Strudwick was right; it was a disgrace for women to brawl thusupon the public thoroughfares; never again would she let her temper getthe better of her in this way--only they should not touch her. Andalready half-forgetful of her resolution, she mounted her steps withflashing eyes and flaming cheeks.

  Presently lights began to glimmer through the dusk, and when the darkreally came every house in the town showed a candle in its window intoken of the advantage won at Monmouth, for since Washington held thefield they deemed him victorious. Even in those houses where grief hadentered, the light shone; for true patriotism is never selfish. Only theCheshire windows were dark, so that the house made a blot in the street.Mistress Cheshire had gone to the Cleverings to condole with them overRichard; but Joscelyn, because of her promise to Mistress Strudwick, hadbided at home, though she would much have loved to comfort Betty. Fromporch to porch the women called to each other, and some of the girlssang snatches of song here and there, like mocking-birds hid in theshadows. But Joscelyn sat at her upper windo
w, silent and musing,thinking what a beautiful thing Richard Clevering had done to let thelittle lad go free while he himself went back to captivity. Suddenly avoice below her whispered:--

  "Hist! Joscelyn, Joscelyn!"

  She leaned over the window-sill. "Who is it?"

  "It is I--Billy Bryce. I have only a minute, for mother must not know Icame, but I have a message for you."

  "From whom comes it, Billy?"

  "From Richard. Come quickly."

  She ran lightly down to the veranda and leaned over the railing to theboy in the shadow. He took her hands eagerly in his.

  "He loves you, Joscelyn!"

  She did not answer. He was too earnest for a jest, so she only pressedhis hand and waited.

  "He is so noble, so generous, Joscelyn; even among us younger boys henever did a mean thing, and there's not a man in the company who is nothis friend."

  "Yes, I always knew Richard had a kind heart, and his letting you go inhis stead was unselfish--beautiful; and I honour him for it."

  "And do you not love him for it also?" the lad begged wistfully. "Saythat you love him just a little."

  "Nay, Billy; he is brave and kind, and he is my friend and Betty'sbrother, therefore do I wish him naught but good fortune and happiness;but, laddie, I do not love him."

  "You are cruel--heartless!" he cried, flinging her hands away."Richard's little finger hath more feeling in it and is worth more thanyour whole body."

  "Your championship does you credit, Billy, and I shall not quarrel withyou for appraising my value so low. Mayhap Richard thinks differently."

  "Ay, that he does--more's the pity!" Then taking her hands again, hesaid vehemently: "An you come not to love him, I pray God to curse youwith an ugliness so great that no other man may ever kiss or love you!For listen; as we lay in the dark that night waiting for the moment toescape, this is what he said: 'If you get away and I do not, say toJoscelyn Cheshire that even behind prison bars I am her lover; and thatif death comes, her face, or the blessed memory of it, will outshinethose of the angels of Paradise.' That was his message. I have facedmany dangers to bring it to you. Now that you have it, I shall go backto my regiment, and if a ball finds me, well and good; Richard will knowsomehow and somewhere that I did not fail him."

  The girl dropped her head low in the starlight.

  "Good-by, Billy; you have filled your mission bravely. Heaven keep yousafe and send you back once more to your mother and us."

  He put up his hand and stroked her cheek softly.

  "I do not wonder that he loves you, Joscelyn, you are so beautiful, andyou can be so sweet--so sweet," he exclaimed, and then ran away into thedark, leaving her alone with the words of the love-message ringing inher ears.

  So still she stood that a big moth flying wearily by rested a moment onher shoulder; across the way her mother was bidding Aunt Clevering goodnight with admonitions to sleep well, and from down the street came thevoices of the singers chanting of victory and the home-coming of lovedones. But above everything the girl on the dark balcony heard a deep,strong voice saying, "Even behind prison bars I am her lover."

  Prison bars!

  And suddenly she threw up her arms in the flower-sweet dusk andwhispered vehemently:--

  "Set him free, dear God! set him free!"