James Fenimore Cooper's Five Novels

by James Fenimore Cooper

  “Be sure he be,” cried Caesar, a little tartly, whose courage had revived by tasting the drop of Mrs. Flanagan.

  “It’s a good sowl that the major is, any way,” returned the washerwoman, “and a kind sowl—aye, and a brave sowl too; and yee’ll say all that yeerself, sargeant, I’m thinking.”

  “For the matter of that,” returned the veteran, “there is one above even Washington, to judge of souls; but this I will say, that Major Dunwoodie is a gentleman who never says, go, boys—but always says, come, boys; and if a poor fellow is in want of a spur or a martingale, and the leather-wack is gone, there is never wanting the real silver to make up the loss, and that from his own pocket too.”

  “Why, then, are you here idle, when all that he holds most dear are in danger,” cried a voice with startling abruptness; “mount, mount, and follow your captain—arm and mount, and that instantly, or you will be too late.”

  This unexpected interruption, produced an instantaneous confusion amongst the tipplers. Caesar fled instinctively into the fire-place, where he maintained his position in defiance of a heat that would have roasted a white man. Sergeant Hollister turned promptly on his heel, and seizing his sabre, the steel was glittering by the fire-light, in the twinkling of an eye; but perceiving the intruder to be the pedlar, who stood near the open door that led to the lean-to in the rear, he began to fall back towards the position of the black, with a military intuition which taught him to concentrate his forces. Betty alone stood her ground, by the side of the temporary table. Replenishing the mug with a large addition of the article known to the soldiery by the name of “choke dog,” she held it towards the pedlar. The eyes of the washerwoman had for some time been swimming with love and liquor, and turning them good naturedly on Birch, she cried—

  “Faith, but yee’r welcome, Mister Pidlar, or Mister Birch, or Mister Beelzeboob, or what’s yee’r name. Yee’r an honest divil, any way, and I’m hoping that yee found the pitticoats convanient—come forward, dear, and fale the fire; Sergeant Hollister won’t be hurting you for the fear of an ill turn you may be doing him hereafter—will yee, Sargeant, dear.”

  “Depart, ungodly man!” cried the veteran, edging still nearer to Caesar, but lifting his legs alternately as they scorched with the heat, “depart in peace! There is none here for thy service, and you seek the woman in vain. There is a tender mercy that will save her from thy talons.” The sergeant ceased to utter aloud, but the motion of his lips continued, and a few scattering words of prayer were alone audible.

  The brain of the washerwoman was in such a state of confusion, that she did not clearly comprehend the meaning of her suitor, but a new idea struck her imagination, and she broke forth—

  “If it’s me the man sa’aks, where’s the matter, pray—am I not a widow’d body and my own property? And yee talk of tinderness, Sargeant, but it’s little I see of it, any way—who knows but Mr. Beelzeboob here is free to spake his mind—I’m sure it is willing to hear I am.”

  “Woman,” said the pedlar, “be silent; and you, foolish man, mount—arm and mount, and fly to the rescue of your officer, if you are worthy of the cause in which you serve, and would not disgrace the coat you wear.” The pedlar vanished from the sight of the bewildered trio with a rapidity that left them uncertain whither he had fled.

  On hearing the voice of an old friend, Caesar emerged from his corner and fearlessly advanced to the spot where Betty had resolutely maintained her ground, though in a state of utter mental confusion.

  “I wish Harvey stop,” said the black; “if he ride down a road, I should like he company;—I don’t tink Johnny Birch hurt he own son.”

  “Poor ignorant wretch!” exclaimed the veteran, recovering his voice with a long drawn breath; “think you that figure was made of flesh and blood?”

  “Harvey an’t fleshy,” replied the black, “but he berry clebber man.”

  “Pooh! sargeant dear,” exclaimed the washerwoman, “talk rason for once, and mind what the knowing one tells yee; call out the boys, and ride a bit after Captain Jack—rimimber darling, that he told yee the day, to be in readiness to mount at a moment’s warning.”

  “Ay, but not at a summons from the foul fiend. Let Captain Lawton, or Lieutenant Mason, or Cornet Skipwith say the word, and who is quicker in the saddle, than I?”

  “Well sargeant, how often is it that yee’ve boasted to myself, that the corps was’nt a bit afeard to face the divil.”

  “No more are we, in battle array, and by daylight; but it’s fool hardy and irreverent to tempt Satan, and on such a night as this; listen how the wind whistles through the trees, and hark! there is the howling of evil spirits abroad.”

  “I see him,” said Caesar, opening his eyes to a width that might have embraced more than an ideal form.

  “Where?” interrupted the sergeant, instinctively laying his hand on the hilt of his sabre.

  “No—no,” said the black, “I see a Johnny Birch come out of he grave—Johnny walk afore he bury’d.”

  “Ah! then he must have led an evil life indeed,” said Hollister; “the blessed in spirit lie quiet until the general muster, but wickedness disturbs the soul in this life as well as in that which is to come.”

  “And what is to come of Captain Jack?” cried Betty angrily; “is it yee’r orders that yee won’t mind, nor a warning given? I’ll jist git my cart and ride down and tell him that yee’r afeard of a dead man and Beelzeboob; and it is’nt succour he may be expicting from yee.—I wonder who’ll be the orderly of the troop the morrow then?—his name won’t be Hollister, any way.”

  “Nay, Betty, nay,” said the sergeant, laying his hand familiarly on her shoulder, “if there must be riding to-night, let it be by him whose duty it is to call out the men, and to set an example.—The Lord have mercy, and send us enemies of flesh and blood!”

  Another glass confirmed the veteran in a resolution that was only excited by a dread of his Captain’s displeasure, and he proceeded to summon the dozen men who had been left under his command. The boy arriving with the ring, Caesar placed it carefully in the pocket of his waistcoat next his heart, and mounting, shut his eyes, seized his charger by the mane, and continued in a state of comparative insensibility, until the animal stopped at the door of the warm stable, whence he had started.

  The movements of the dragoons being timed to the order of a march, were much slower, for they were made with a watchfulness that was intended to guard against surprise from the evil one himself.

  Chapter XXII

  “Be not your tongue thy own shame’s orator;

  Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty;

  Apparel vice like virtue’s harbinger.”

  Comedy of Errors.

  * * *

  THE SITUATION of the party in Mr. Wharton’s dwelling, was sufficiently awkward during the hour of Caesar’s absence; for such was the astonishing rapidity displayed by his courser, that the four miles of road was gone over, and the events we have recorded, had occurred, somewhat within that period of time. Of course the gentlemen strove to make the irksome moments fly as swiftly as possible; but premeditated happiness is certainly of the least joyous kind. The bride and bridegroom are immemorially privileged to be dull, and but few of their friends seemed disposed, on the present occasion, to dishonour their example. The English colonel exhibited a proper portion of uneasiness, at this unexpected interruption of his felicity, and he sat with a varying countenance by the side of Sarah, who seemed to be profiting by the delay, to gather fortitude for the solemn ceremony. In the midst of this embarrassing silence, Dr. Sitgreaves addressed himself to Miss Peyton, by whose side he had contrived to procure a chair.

  “Marriage, Madam, is pronounced to be honourable in the sight of God and man; and it may be said to be reduced in the present age to the laws of nature and reason. The ancients, in sanctioning polygamy, lost sight of the provisions of nature, and conde
mned thousands to misery; but with the increase of science, have grown the wise ordinances of society; which ordain that man should be the husband of but one woman.”

  Wellmere glanced a fierce expression of disgust at the surgeon, that indicated his sense of the tediousness of the other’s remarks; while Miss Peyton, with a slight hesitation as if fearful of touching on forbidden subjects, replied—

  “I had thought, sir, that we were indebted to the christian religion for our morals on this subject.”

  “True, Madam; it is somewhere provided in the prescriptions of the apostles, that the sexes should henceforth be on an equality, in this particular. But in what degree could polygamy affect holiness of life? It was probably a wise arrangement of Paul, who was much of a scholar, and probably had frequent conferences, on this important subject, with Luke, whom we all know to have been bred to the practice of medicine.”

  There is no telling how far the discursive fancy of Sitgreaves might have led him, on this subject, had he not been interrupted. But Lawton, who had been a close but silent observer of all that passed, profited by the hint, to ask abruptly—

  “Pray, Colonel Wellmere, in what manner is bigamy punished in England?”

  The bridegroom started, and his lip blanched. Recovering himself, however, on the instant, he answered with a suavity that became so happy a man.

  “Death!—as such an offence merits,” he said.

  “Death and dissection,” continued the operator: “it is seldom that the law loses sight of eventual utility in a malefactor. Bigamy, in a man, is a heinous offence!”

  “More so than celibacy?” asked Lawton.

  “More so,” returned the surgeon with undisturbed simplicity; “he who remains in a single state, may devote his life to science and the extension of knowledge, if not of his species; but the wretch who profits by the constitutional tendency of the female sex to credulity and tenderness, incurs the wickedness of a positive sin, heightened by the baseness of deception.”

  “Really, sir, the ladies are infinitely obliged to you, for attributing folly to them as part of their nature.”

  “Captain Lawton, in man the animal is more nobly formed than in woman. The nerves are endowed with less sensibility—the whole frame is less pliable and yielding; is it, therefore, surprising, that a tendency to rely on the faith of her partner, is more natural to woman than to the other sex?”

  Wellmere, as if unable to listen with any degree of patience to so ill-timed a dialogue, sprang from his seat, and paced the floor in disorder. Pitying his situation, the reverend gentleman, who was patiently awaiting the return of Caesar, changed the discourse, and a few minutes brought the black himself. The billet was handed to Dr. Sitgreaves; for Miss Peyton had expressly enjoined Caesar, not to implicate her, in any manner, in the errand on which he was despatched. The note contained a summary statement of the several subjects of the surgeon’s directions, and referred him to the black for the ring. The latter was instantly demanded, and promptly delivered. A transient look of melancholy clouded the brow of the surgeon as he stood a moment, and gazed silently on the bauble; nor did he remember the place or the occasion, while he soliloquized as follows:

  “Poor Anna! gay as innocence and youth could make thee, was thy heart when this cincture was formed to grace thy nuptials; but ere the hour had come, God had taken thee to himself. Years have passed, my sister, but never have I forgotten the companion of my infancy;” he advanced to Sarah, and, unconscious of observation, placing the ring on her finger, continued, “she for whom it was intended, has long been in her grave, and the youth who bestowed the gift, soon followed her sainted spirit; take it, Madam, and God grant that it may be an instrument in making you as happy as you deserve.”

  Sarah felt a chill at her heart, as this burst of feeling escaped the surgeon; but Wellmere offering his hand, she was led before the divine, and the ceremony began. The first words of this imposing office, produced a dead stillness in the apartment; and the minister of God proceeded to the solemn exhortation, and witnessed the plighted troth of the parties, when the investiture was to follow. The ring had been left, from inadvertency, and the agitation of the moment, on the finger where Sitgreaves had placed it;—the slight interruption occasioned by the circumstance was over, and the clergyman was about to proceed, when a figure gliding into the midst of the party at once put a stop to the ceremony. It was the pedlar. His look was bitter and ironical, while a finger, raised towards the divine, seemed to forbid the ceremony to go any farther.

  “Can Colonel Wellmere waste the precious moments here, when his wife has crossed the ocean to meet him? The nights are long, and the moon bright;—a few hours will take him to the city.”

  Aghast at the suddenness of this extraordinary address, Wellmere for a moment lost the command of his faculties. To Sarah, the countenance of Birch, expressive as it was, produced no terror; but the instant she recovered from the surprise of his interruption, she turned her anxious gaze on the features of the man to whom she had just pledged her troth. They afforded the most terrible confirmation of all that the pedlar affirmed; the room whirled round, and she fell lifeless into the arms of her aunt. There is an instinctive delicacy in woman, that seems to conquer all other emotions, and the insensible bride was immediately conveyed from sight, leaving the room to the sole possession of the other sex.

  The confusion enabled the pedlar to retreat with a rapidity that would have baffled pursuit, had any been attempted, and Wellmere stood with every eye fixed on him, in ominous silence.

  “’Tis false—’tis false as hell!” he cried, striking his forehead. “I have ever denied her claim; nor will the laws of my country compel me to acknowledge it.”

  “But what will conscience and the laws of God do?” asked Lawton.

  “’Tis well, sir,” said Wellmere, haughtily, and retreating towards the door—“my situation protects you now: but a time may come—”

  He had reached the entry, when a slight tap on his shoulder caused him to turn his head;—it was Captain Lawton—who, with a smile of peculiar meaning, beckoned him to follow. The state of Wellmere’s mind was such, that he would gladly have gone any where to avoid the gaze of horror and detestation that glared from every eye he met. They reached the stables before the trooper spoke, when he cried aloud—

  “Bring out Roanoke.”

  His man appeared with the steed caparisoned for its master. Lawton, coolly throwing the bridle on the neck of the animal, took his pistols from the holsters, and continued “here are weapons that have seen good service before to-day—ay! and in honourable hands sir. These were the pistols of my father, Colonel Wellmere; he used them with credit in the wars with France, and gave them to me to fight the battles of my country with. In what better way can I serve her than in exterminating a wretch who would have blasted one of her fairest daughters?”

  “This injurious treatment shall meet with its reward,” cried the other, seizing the offered weapon; “the blood lie on the head of him who sought it.”

  “Amen! but hold, a moment, sir. You are now free, and the passports of Washington are in your pocket;—I give you the fire;—if I fall, there is a steed that will outstrip pursuit; and I would advise you to retreat without much delay, for even Archibald Sitgreaves would fight in such a cause—nor will the guard above be very apt to give quarter.”

  “Are you ready?” asked Wellmere, gnashing his teeth with rage.

  “Stand forward, Tom, with the lights;—fire!”

  Wellmere fired, and the bullion flew from the epaulette of the trooper.

  “Now the turn is mine,” said Lawton deliberately levelling his pistol.

  “And mine!” shouted a voice, as the weapon was struck from his hand. “By all the devils in hell, ’tis the mad Virginian—fall on my boys, and take him; this is a prize not hoped for!”

  Unarmed and surprized as he was, Lawton’s presence of mi
nd did not desert him: he felt that he was in the hands of those from whom he was to expect no mercy; and, as four of the Skinners fell upon him at once, he used his gigantic strength to the utmost. Three of the band grasped him by the neck and arms, with an intent to clog his efforts, and pinion him with ropes. The first of these he threw from him, with a violence that sent him against the building, where he lay stunned with the blow. But the fourth seized his legs, and unable to contend with such odds, the trooper came to the earth, bringing with him all of his assailants. The struggle on the ground was short but terrific;—curses, and the most dreadful imprecations were uttered by the Skinners, who in vain called on more of their band who were gazing on the combat in nerveless horror, to assist. A difficulty of breathing, from one of the combatants, was heard, accompanied by the stifled moanings of a strangled man; and directly one of the group arose on his feet, shaking himself free from the wild grasp of the others. Both Wellmere and the servant of Lawton had fled; the former to the stables, and the latter to give the alarm, leaving all in darkness. The figure that stood erect, sprang into the saddle of the unheeded charger—sparks of fire issuing from the armed feet of the horse, gave a momentary light by which the captain was seen dashing like the wind towards the highway.

  “By hell he’s off!” cried the leader, hoarse with rage and exhaustion; “fire!—bring him down—fire, or you’ll be too late.”

  The order was obeyed, and one moment of suspense followed, in the vain hope of hearing the huge frame of Lawton tumbling from his steed.

  “He would not fall, if you had killed him,” muttered one; “I’ve known these Virginians sit their horses with two and three balls through them; ay, even after they were dead.”

  A freshening of the wind, wafted the tread of a horse down the valley, which, by its speed, gave assurance of a rider governing its motion.