Works of Robert W Chambers

by Robert W. Chambers

  “Sit down on the bottom, midway between bow and stern!”

  He took the place as I directed.

  “Take the bow paddle,” said I to Yellow Leaf. “Also loosen your knife.”

  And when he was ready, I shoved off, straddled the stern, and, kneeling, took the broad paddle.

  “Captain Moucher,” said I, “if you think to overturn the canoe, in hope of escape, my Indian will kill you in the water.”

  The canoe slid out into darkness under the high stars.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  FIRELIGHT

  Now, no sooner did I reach my camp with my prisoner than my people came crowding around us from their watch-fire, which burned dull because they had made a smudge of it, black flies being lively after dark.

  I drew Nick aside and told him all.

  “You shall take Johnny Silver,” said I, “and set off instantly for Summer House and the Continental camp. You shall deliver a letter to Major Westfall, and then you shall search with your lanterns every face you encounter; for I am beginning to believe that I truly saw Stephen Watts and Lieutenant Hare in the orchard at Summer House Point this night. And if I did, then they are a pair o’ damned spies, and should be taken; and suffer as such!”

  “My God,” says he, “Lady Johnson’s brother!”

  “And my one-time friend. Is it not horrible, Nick? But any hesitation makes me a traitor to my own people.”

  I sat down in the dull firelight, a block of wood for a seat, fished out my carnet, wrote a line to Major Westfall, and handed it to Nick.

  Silver came with a lantern and both rifles.

  “Use the canoe,” said I, “and have a care that you reply clearly and promptly when challenged, for yonder Continentals are prone to shoot.”

  They went off with their rifles and the lantern, and I waited until I heard the dip of paddles in the dark.

  “Throw a dry log on the fire, Godfrey,” said I. And to Joe de Golyer: “Bring that prisoner here.”

  Joe fetched him, and he stood before me, arms trussed up and head hanging. Tahioni approached.

  “Untie him,” said I.

  Whilst they were fumbling with the knotted rope of thrums, I said to Tahioni:

  “Luysnes is on guard, I take it?”

  “My French brother watches.”

  “That is well. Now, tell my Oneida brothers that here we have taken a very dangerous man; and that if he makes any move to escape from where he stands beside that fire, they shall not attempt to take him alive!”

  The young warrior turned calmly and translated. I saw my Oneidas loosen their knives and hatchets. The Saguenay quietly strung his short, heavy bow, and, laying an arrow across the string, notched it.

  “Thiohero!” I called.

  “I listen, my elder brother,” said the little maid of Askalege.

  “You shall take a trade-rifle, move out one hundred paces to the west, and halt all who come. And fire on any who refuse to halt.”

  “I listen,” she said coolly.

  “You shall call to us if you need us.”

  “I continue to listen.”

  “And if there comes a wagon, then you shall take the horses by the head and lead them this way until the fire shines on their heads. Go, little sister.”

  She took a trade-rifle from the stack, primed it freshly, and crossed the circle on light, swift feet.

  When she had gone into the darkness, I bade de Golyer kick the fire. He did so and it blazed ruddy, painting in sanguine colour the sombre, unhealthy visage of my prisoner.

  “Search him,” said I briefly.

  Joe and my Oneida rummaged him to the buff. It was in his boots they discovered, at last, a sheaf of papers.

  I could not read what was writ, for the writing was in strange signs and figures; so presently I gave over trying and looked up at my prisoner, who now had dressed again.

  “You are Captain Moucher?”

  He denied it hoarsely; but I, having now no vestige of doubt concerning this miserable man’s identity, ignored his answer.

  “What is this paper which was taken from your boot?”

  He seemed to find no word of explanation, but breathed harder and watched my eyes.

  “Is it writ in a military cipher?”

  “I do not know.”

  “How came these papers in your boot?”

  He stammered out that somebody who had cleansed his boots must have dropped them in, and that, in pulling on his boots that morning, he had neither seen nor felt the papers.

  “Where did you dress this morning?”

  “At the Johnson Arms in Johnstown.”

  “You wear the uniform of an officer in the Canajoharie Regiment. Are you attached to that regiment?”

  He said he was; then contradicted himself, saying he had been obliged to borrow the clothing from an officer because, while bathing in the Mohawk at Caughnawaga, his own clothing had been swept into the water and engulfed.

  Over this lie he was slow in speech, and stammered much, licking his dry lips, and his reddish, furtive eyes travelling about him as though his stealthy mind were elsewhere.

  “Do you recollect that we supped in company at Johnson Hall — you and I — and not so long ago?” I demanded.

  He had no remembrance.

  “And Lieutenant Hare and Captain Watts were of the company?”

  He denied acquaintance with these gentlemen.

  “Or Hiakatoo?”

  Had never heard of him.

  I bade Joe lay more dry wood on the fire and kick it well, for the sphagnum moss still dulled it. And, when it flared redly, I rose and walked close to the prisoner.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He had merely come out of curiosity to see the camp at Summer House.

  “In disguise?”

  He had no other clothing, and meant no harm. If we would let him go he would engage to return to Albany and never again to wear any clothing to which he was not entitled.

  “Oh. Who was your mate there in the orchard, who also wore the Canajoharie regimentals?” I demanded.

  An acquaintance made en passant, nothing more. He did not even know his name.

  “I’ll tell you his name,” said I. “That man was Lieutenant Hare. And you are Captain Moucher. You are spies in our camp. We’ve taken you; we ought to take him before midnight.

  “The paper I have of you is writ in British military cipher.

  “Now, before I send you to Colonel Dayton, with my report of this examination, what have you to confess that I might add to my report, in extenuation?”

  He made no answer. Presently a fit of ague seized him, so that he could scarce stand. Then he reeled sideways and, by accident, set foot in the live coals. And instantly went clean crazed with fright.

  As the Oneida caught him by the shoulder, to steady him, he shrieked and cowered, grasping Joe’s arm in his terror.

  “They mean to murder me!” he yelled. “Keep your savages away, I tell you!” — struggling between Tahioni and Joe— “I’ll say what you wish, if they won’t burn me! — —”

  “Be silent,” I said. “We mean no bodily harm to you. Compose yourself, Captain Moucher. Do you take me for a monster to threaten you with torture?”

  But the awful fear of fire was in this whimpering wretch, and I was ashamed to have my Oneidas see a white man so stricken with cowardly terrors.

  His honour — what there was of it — he sold in stammering phrases to buy mercy of us; and I listened in disgust and astonishment to his confession, which came in a pell-mell of tumbling words, so that I was put to it to write down what he babbled.

  He had gone on his knees, held back from my feet by the Oneida; and his poltroonery so sickened me that I could scarce see what I wrote down in my carnet.

  Every word was a betrayal of comrades; every whine a plea for his own blotched skin.

  To save his neck — if treachery might save it — he sold his King, his cause, his comrades, and his own manhood.

/>   And so I learned of him that Stevie Watts, disguised, had been that night at Summer House with Lieutenant Hare; that they had brought news to Lady Johnson of Sir John’s safe arrival in Canada; that they had met and talked to Claudia Swift; had counted our men and made a very accurate report, which was writ in the military cipher which we discovered, and a copy of which Captain Watts also carried upon his proper person.

  I learned that Walter Butler, now a captain of Royalist Rangers, also had come into the Valley in disguise, for the purpose of spying and of raising the Tory settlers against us.

  I learned that Brant and Guy Johnson had been in England, but were on their way hither.

  I learned that our army in Canada, decimated by battle, by smallpox, by fever, was giving ground and slowly retreating on Crown Point; and that Arnold now commanded them.

  I learned that we were to be invaded from the west, the north, and the south by three armies, and thousands of savages; that Albany must burn, and Tryon flame from Schenectady to Saint Sacrement.... And I wrote all down.

  “Is there more?” I asked, looking at him with utter loathing.

  “Howell’s house,” he muttered, “the log house of John Howell — tonight — —”

  “The cabin on the hard ridge yonder?”

  “Yes.... A plot to massacre this post.... They meet there.”

  “Who?”

  “King’s people.... John Howell, Dries Bowman, the Cadys, the Helmers, Girty, Dawling, Gene Grinnis, Balty Weed — —”

  “Tonight!”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Hid in the tamaracks — in the bush — God knows where! — —”

  “When do they rendezvous?”

  “Toward midnight.”

  “At John Howell’s cabin?”

  He nodded, muttering.

  I got up, took him by the arm and jerked him to his feet.

  “Read this!” I said, and thrust the paper of cipher writing under his nose.

  But he could not, saying that Steve Watts had writ it, and that he was to carry it express to Oswego.

  Now, whilst I stood there, striving to think out what was best to do and how most prudently to conduct in the instant necessity confronting me, there came Thiohero’s sweet, clear whistle of a Canada sparrow, warning us to look sharp.

  Then I heard the snort of a horse and the rattle and bump of a wagon.

  “Tie the prisoner,” said I to Godfrey; and turned to see the little maid of Askalege, her rifle shouldered, leading in two horses, behind which rumbled the wagon carrying our pay, food, arms, and clothing sent from Johnstown.

  Two armed Continental soldiers sat atop; one, a corporal, driving, t’other on guard.

  I spoke to them; called my Indians to unload the wagon, and bade Thiohero sling our kettle and make soupaan for us all.

  The Continentals were nothing loth to eat with us. Tahioni had killed some wood-duck and three partridges; and these, with some dozen wild pigeons from the Stacking Ridge, furnished our meat.

  I heaped a wooden platter and Godfrey squatted by Captain Moucher to feed him; but the prisoner refused food and sat with head hanging and the shivers shaking him with coward’s ague.

  When the meal was ended, I took the Continentals aside, gave the Corporal my report to Colonel Dayton, and charged them to deliver my prisoner at Johnstown jail. This they promised to do; and, as all was ready, horses fed, and a long, slow jog to Johnstown, the Corporal climbed to his seat and took the reins, and the other soldier aided my prisoner to mount.

  “Will you speak for me at the court martial?” pleaded Moucher, in hoarse and dreadful tones. “Remember, sir, as God sees me, my confession was voluntary, and I swear by my mother’s memory that I now see the error and the wickedness of my ways! Say that I said this — in Christ’s name — —”

  The Corporal touched his cocked hat, swung his powerful horses. I am sure they were of Sir William’s stock and came from the Hall.

  “Mr. Drogue!” wailed the doomed wretch, “let God curse me if I meant any harm — —”

  I think the soldier beside him must have placed his hand over the poor wretch’s mouth, for I heard nothing more except the rattle of wheels and the corporal-driver a-whistling “The Little Red Foot.”

  In my absence that day my men had erected an open-face hut for our stores.

  Here we set lanterns, and here divided the clothing, including the stockings given me by Penelope — which I distributed with a heavy heart.

  There was laid aside new buckskin clothing and fresh underwear for Luysnes, for Nick, and for Johnny Silver.

  Then I paid the men, and gave a cash bonus to every Indian, and also a new rifle each, — not the trade-gun, but good weapons carrying an ounce ball.

  To each, also, a new hatchet, new knife, blanket, leggins, tobacco, paints, razor, mirror, ammunition, and a flask of sweet-smelling oil.

  I think I never have seen any Iroquois so overjoyed as were mine. And as for my Saguenay, he instantly squatted by the fire, fixed his mirror on a crotched stick, and fell to adorning himself by the red glow of the coals.

  But I had scant leisure for watching them, where they moved about laughing and gossiping excitedly, comparing rifles, trying locks and pans, sorting out finery, or smearing themselves with gaudy symbols.

  For, not a hundred rods east of us, across the ridge, stood that log hut of Howell’s; and the owl-haunted tamaracks stretched away behind it in a misty wilderness. And in that swampy forest, at this very moment, were hidden desperate men who designed our deaths — men I knew — neighbors at Fonda’s Bush, like the Cadys, Helmers, and Dries Bowman! — men who lately served in my militia company, like Balty Weed and Gene Grinnis.

  Now, as I paced the fire circle, listening and waiting for Nick and Johnny Silver, I could scarce credit what the wretch, Moucher, had told me, so horrid bloody did their enterprise appear to me.

  That they should strive to kill us when facing us in proper battle, that I could comprehend. But to plan in the darkness! — to come by stealth in their farmer’s clothes to surprise us in our sleep! — faugh!

  “My God,” says I to Godfrey, who paced beside me, “why have they not at least embodied to do us such a filthy business? And if they were only a company with some officer to make them respectable — militia, minute men, rangers, anything!”

  “They be bloody-minded folk,” said he grimly. “No coureur-du-bois is harder, craftier, or more heartless than John Howell; no forest runner more merciless than Charlie Cady. These be rough and bloody men, John. And I think we are like to have a rude fight of it before sun-up.”

  I thought so too, but did not admit as much. I had ten men. They mustered ten — if Moucher’s accounts were true. And I did not doubt it, under the circumstances of his pusillanimous confession.

  The River Reed came to me to show me her necklace of coloured glass. And I drew her aside, told her as much as I cared to, and bade her prepare her Oneidas for a midnight battle.

  At that moment I heard the Canada sparrow. Thiohero answered, sweet and clear. A few seconds later Nick and Silver came in, carrying the canoe paddles.

  “They’ve gone,” said Nick, with an oath. “Two mounted men and a led horse rode toward Johnstown two hours since. They wore Canajoharie regimentals. Major Westfall sent a dozen riders after ‘em; but men who came so boldly to spy us out are like to get away as boldly, too.”

  He plucked my arm and I stepped apart with him.

  “Westfall’s in his dotage; Dayton is too slow. Why don’t they send up Willett or Herkimer?”

  “I don’t know,” said I, troubled.

  “Well,” says Nick, “it’s clear that Stevie Watts was there and has spoken with Lady Johnson. But what more is to be done? She’s our prisoner. I wish to God they’d sent her to Albany or New York, where she could contrive no mischief. And that other lady, too. Lord! but Major Westfall is in a pother! And I wager Colonel Dayton will be in another, and at his wit’s end
s.”

  The business distressed me beyond measure, and I remained silent.

  “By the way,” he added, “your yellow-haired inamorata sends you a billet-doux. Here it is.”

  I took the bit of folded paper, stepped aside and read it by the firelight:

  “Sir:

  “I venture to entertain a hope that some day it may please you to converse again with one whose offense — if any — remains a mystery to her still.

  “P. G.”

  I read it again, then crumpled it and dropped it on the coals. I had seen Steve Watts kiss her. That was enough.

  “There’s a devil’s nest of Tories gathering in Howell’s house tonight to cut our throats,” said I coldly. “Should we take them with ten men, or call in the Continentals?”

  “Who be they?” asked Nick, astounded.

  “The old pack — Cadys, Helmers, Bowman, Weed, Grinnis. They are ten rifles.”

  He got very red.

  “This is a domestic business,” said I. “Shall we wash our bloody linen for the world to see what filth chokes Fonda’s Bush?”

  “No,” said he, slowly, with that faint flare in his eyes I had seen at times, “let us clean our own house o’ vermin, and make no brag of what is only our proper shame.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  OUT OF THE NORTH

  It lacked still an hour to midnight, which time I had set for our advance upon John Howell’s house, and my Oneidas had not yet done painting, when Johnny Silver, who was on guard, whistled from his post, and I ran thither with Nick.

  A man in leather was coming in through the chevaux-de-frise, and Johnny dropped a tamarack log across the ditch for him, over which he ran like a tree-martin, and so climbed up into the flare of Nick’s lantern.

  The man in forest runner’s dress was Dave Ellerson, known to us all as a good neighbor and a staunch Whig; but we scarce recognized him in his stringy buckskins and coon-skin cap, with the ringed tail a-bobbing.

  On his hunting shirt there was a singular device of letters sewed there in white cloth, which composed the stirring phrase, “Liberty or Death.” And we knew immediately that he had become a soldier in the 11th Virginia Regiment, which is called Morgan’s Rifles.

  He seemed to have travelled far, though light, for he carried only rifle and knife, ammunition, and a small sack which flapped flat and empty; but his manner was lively and his merry gaze clear and untroubled as we grasped his powerful hands.