True, we were still in peril, but my heart rose to meet the danger, and exulted in it. I knew Levi to be a cur and his men were much of the same kidney. I reckoned that we were hardly two miles from the main road along which our patrols would be constantly passing in the day-time; nor more than four miles as the crow flies, from the detachment at the ferry. A little shooting on Levi’s part or ours would soon bring our people about his ears.
Still, we must, for a time, depend on ourselves and our own resources, and we had only one pistol and six cartridges. A second pistol was a thing much to be desired. So while I kept watch at the window, the girl at a word from me fell to ransacking the men’s blankets and saddle-bags.
The search proved fruitless, but by the time it had failed, the man had taken my message. We heard an outburst of oaths, and the sound of feet running along the road; a moment and several figures showed phantom-like through the mist. There was a second outbreak of blasphemy, then for a time, silence.
“The rascals are consulting,” I said. “That will not raise their courage. Councils of war never fight.”
The girl did not answer and I looked at her. She was sitting on a box rocking herself to and fro, her elbows on her knees, her face hidden in her hands. Then I understood. Our defence, our safety, what was passing here, these were small things to her. It was still the news, the news that she craved, the news for which she pined, the news that she coveted, as she rocked herself to and fro in an agony of impatience.
I thrust my head out of the window. “Are you coming?” I shouted.
At that Levi showed himself, timidly and at a distance. “What cursed trick is this?” he shouted. “What’d she reckon to fetch us here for to jockey us in this fashion? Do you hear, if you don’t come down, I’ll burn the whole house and you in it! S’help me, if I won’t!”
“Then you’ll burn your horses,” I replied. “And bring our detachment from the ferry on you. See? And see this, too, you cowardly rogue. Give up the messenger you’ve seized! Give him up! Or we’ll raise such a racket as shall bring my people on you quickly! We have your horses, and you cannot recover them without coming under fire.”
This was true for we had found two knot-holes in the floor, that commanded the stable below. I fancied that this would go some way towards bringing them to terms, for I knew that in the eyes of such men as these their horses ranked after their own skins.
Levi was silent a moment, digesting the information. Then, “What is all this?” he asked plaintively. “What messenger d’you want? We’ve none of your messengers.”
“The messenger is Tom, Captain Wilmer’s negro,” I answered. “We know that you’ve seized him. It’s no use lying to us.”
“I’ll come up and talk,” he said.
“No, you won’t!” I replied, scenting a trap. “If you come too close I’ll put a bullet through you. I’ll give you five minutes to decide. Move off!”
He drew off sullenly, and disappeared round the corner of the house.
The girl still rocked herself to and fro, and after a moment of thought I left the window — at some risk — and touched her on the shoulder. “If it were bad news,” I said, “they would not have kept it from you.”
She looked up at me, a light in her eyes. “Say it again,” she said.
I repeated it. “If I could believe that!” she cried, and clapped her hands to her face.
“I can see no other meaning in it,” I argued. “If he brought bad news, would he come so early?”
She stood up. “I must know!” she cried passionately. “I must know! I will go down! I will make them tell me! I will wring it from them! Am I to hide here while they know all?” And falling impetuously upon the litter which we had piled upon the trap-door she dragged away the uppermost case, heavy as it was, before I could hinder her. She seized the next, and strove to move it.
I was between two fires. I had left the window unguarded, and I could not tell what was passing outside. On the other hand I could not let her go down and place herself in the power of these miscreants, who, unless they were fools, would hold her as a hostage for my surrender. I caught her by the arm. “Don’t!” I cried. “You are mad!”
But she would not listen, she persisted. She struggled with me, and I had only one arm. I had to use my full strength. I dragged her away at last, and in the excitement, having the unguarded window on my mind and the fear of what the men might do while she kept me thus, I shook her — I shook her angrily.
“Come back to your senses!” I said. “I am not going to let you do it! Do you hear! You are not going down!”
“I must!” she cried, struggling with me.
“You will not!” I said.
She ceased to struggle at that, and appeared to come to herself. Then — I still held her firmly by the arm — a blush dyed her face to the roots of her hair. Her eyes fell. “Let me go,” she muttered.
“Will you do as I say?” I cried. “Will you be guided?”
“Yes,” she said, her lips quivering. There were tears in her eyes.
“And give up this mad idea?”
“Yes.”
“That is better,” I replied. “Then put that case back, if you please. The news will be neither better nor worse because you do not hear it.” And I let her go, and turned quickly to the window, intent, as far as appearances went, upon Levi and the gang.
But if there had been anything to note, if Levi had made a move at that moment, I doubt if I should have seen it. The contest had not taken two minutes, but it had changed all our relations. The struggle and her surrender, the contact between us — our hands had hardly met hitherto — had put the spark to a train that in my case was already laid. My blood was in a tumult, my face as hot as hers, my heart beat furiously. What her feelings were I could only guess. But the tell-tale blood that had waved its signal in her cheek, her sudden confusion, her drooping head, if these did no more than own the man’s mastery, they were such an advance on anything that had passed between us that it was no wonder that I forgot the peril, Levi, the rogues, all.
A minute or two, during which I dared not look at her, brought me to my senses. I saw that the mist was thinner, that the sun was beginning to peer through it. Soon we should be able to look abroad, and Levi and his men, surprised in the open and almost within view of the highway, might find the boot on the other leg. My spirits rose; and again I remembered, and they sank as quickly. The news! The news that she longed for so hungrily, from which she expected so much. How could it be good? I knew Rawdon too well, and the story of poor André was too fresh in my memory. Besides, the mens’ ultimatum could hardly have been delivered And were the news bad, as bad it must be, it mattered little what she felt for me now. The feeling would not survive the shock.
I stole a glance at her, She was listening. Presently her eyes came to meet mine. “Surely,” she urged, “the five minutes are past.”
“Yes,” I said, “they must be.” And looking warily out of the window I shouted.
No one answered, no one appeared. But while I hung over the sill and waited sounds that I did not understand came to my ears, vaguely at first, but presently more clearly. It seemed to me that a struggle was going on not far off. “I believe Tom has got away!” I exclaimed. “Or they are fighting among themselves. Listen!”
The report of a gun startled us. The girl sprang to the window and breathless, trembling with anxiety she leant far out; so far that I drew her back. “‘Have a care!” I said. “They might take you for me!” Then, “Who is this?” I asked.
A man had appeared at a little distance from us, and was approaching the door. I knew at a glance that it was not Levi; Levi would have hailed me from a distance or sneaked up under cover. This man came forward without fear, a little switch in his hand. “It’s not Tom!” I said. The mist blurred the man’s outline.
“Tom? No!” she answered looking at me piteously. Then, “Ask him! He knows! He—” She could not finish. She clung to me. It was only later that I t
ook in the full wonder and the meaning of this. She clung to me, though the news bad or good, was not known to her.
“Halloa!” I shouted to the man who was still a few yards from the door but was coming on as coolly as if he were approaching his own house. “Is it good news?” I had no doubt of the answer but it was best to know the worst, best to have it over.
He looked up and saw me. He nodded. “Yes, it’s good!” he said. Then he nodded again. “Quite good, Major.”
I stared confounded, while she — for a moment her weight hung heavy on my arm. Then she sighed, stiffened herself, and drew away from me. I did not look at her. For one thing I dared not, and for another, what if the news were not true? Who was this man, and what did he know?
“Is she there?” he asked, looking up and tapping his neat boot with his switch.
“Yes,” I said, still doubting.
“Well, send her down, will you?” he replied. “There’s somebody waiting for her at the back of the mill.”
Then I knew the man. It was Marion — General Marion, for he had been raised to that rank since I had parted from him.
CHAPTER XIII
CONSTANTIA AT SARATOGA
“We don’t think much of Miss X — Y — my dear,
Quite too fond of the British Officers.”
LIFE OF ELIZA PINCKNEY.
The girl’s wits were so much more nimble than mine that she had staggered under the news, recovered herself and done much to remove the boxes from the trap-door before I could turn to help her. Then it hurt me a little, I confess, that she had not a look for me, or a word. All her thoughts were with Marion. She flew to the ladder, descended it, and vanished, as if I had not existed, or as if I had not for twenty-four hours spent myself in the effort to undo the misfortune which I had brought upon her!
It was foolish of me to feel this, and more foolish to resent it. But I did both and that so keenly, that I was in no haste to descend. The news was good, her father was safe, and that was enough for her. That was all for which she cared. Why should I go down among them, whoever they were! There are times when we are all children, and stand aloof in sullenness, saying that we will not play.
True, I had not done much for her — she had played her own game, it seemed. But I had done what I could.
So it was Marion who presently, cool and neat and smoking the eternal cigar, climbed up to me. He took in the wretched room with an appreciative eye. “Home of the patriot!” he said, smiling. “This is what you drive us to, Major.”
“It’s as full of fleas,” I cried peevishly, “as a starving dog!”
“I know,” he said. “The Carolina flea is grand. But I suppose that you’ve not heard the news? We’ve hoodwinked you again, Craven.” This time his tone was more grave but his eyes still twinkled. “Wilmer walked past your sentries at nine o’clock last night, and he’s not a hundred, miles away at this moment and as free as air.”
“Thank God!” I said. And I meant it.
“Yes, you can’t fight a people, Major,” he continued. “You can’t fight a people. You may be what you like on your side of the big water, but here you’re no more than a garrison! You’re like a blind man plunging hither and thither among people who see!”
“Suppose you descend to particulars,” I said coldly.
“The particular is Con, God bless her!” he answered. “There’s an American girl for you! There’s a girl of spirit! Pity,” he continued demurely, “that she’s a rebel! She wasn’t blind. By heaven, there wasn’t a stone she left unturned from the moment you left the Bluff! She sent to me and drew me into her plans. She sent to Levi, and drew him in — silly girl — as if any good could come of those rogues! She drew you into the scheme and made use, good use of you, Major. But all the time she was her own best friend. She won a twenty-four hours respite from your commander — that was life or death to her. Then, after learning through her nigger and others the ways of the place, she cast dust in your folks’ eyes by riding away to appeal to Cornwallis — it was uncommonly clever that! And there, I give your folks credit — you can play the gentleman when you please, Major. If all of you played it and played it always,” he went on with a smile, “things would be very different south of the Dan River. I should not be webfooted with living in the swamps of the Pee Dee; and Sumter—” his smile broadened— “would not be sore with riding bare-backed horses in his shirt.”
“I’m glad that you think we behaved well,” I said dryly. “But the fact does not explain Captain Wilmer’s escape.”
“No, but Con made her market of the fact, God bless her, as of other things,” he answered. And he looked at me so meaningly that the color rose in my face. “She used it to get her interview with her father, and — of course you were too gentlemanly to search her.”
“Which means?”
“That she took in a nigger outfit, and the rest of it, under her skirts — wig, stain, and all. That night her boy, Tom, took the place of the tavern waiter and carried in Wilmer’s supper and stayed while he ate it. At nine o’clock there was a fight among some negro teamsters in front of the tavern, and under cover of the skirmish Wilmer carried out the tray, with a napkin in his mouth, crossed to the tavern, walked up the yard as bold as brass, and vanished. Clever wasn’t it? Ten minutes later when the guard was changed his black walked put too, carrying the plates. I suppose, first and last,” Marion continued, thoughtfully tapping his boot, “a dozen persons white and black, knew of the plan before it came off — knew where the ‘possum was — and not one peached. Weigh that, Major, weigh that, if you please, and tell me, if you can, that you still think you will beat us! Why you’re beaten already!”
“But Tom—”
“Oh, the nigger ran his risk,” Marion replied carelessly. “Wasn’t he Wilmer’s boy, born on the place? He’d do that and more. And after all he got clear. And by God — I don’t think that I ever saw a more curious thing than I saw just now, and I’ll wager something it’s a sight that I shall never see again.”
“What was it?” I asked dully. Seven words he had said earlier “she made use, good use of you” were repeating themselves over and over again in my brain.
“What was it? Why, a white woman on her knees kissing a black man’s hands! A spoiled nigger, Major! You may take it from me, a spoiled nigger! Wilmer may as well free him. He’ll never be worth a continental cent to him again.”
“It was a clever plan,” I said. But I could not throw much spirit into my words.
“Oh, she’s a jewel is Madam Constantia!” he answered. “It makes me laugh now to think how she made use of us all. She wanted me to beat up Winnsboro’ at sunrise to-day if Tom’s plan failed; as if I were likely to venture my fellows against the whole British army! No, I couldn’t do that, even for Wilmer. But I told her I would move up to Camden and be at hand at daybreak to-day in case he was followed; and that if possible I’d fall back by this road. As a fact Tom was here first with the news, but those rogues — there’s a woman’s weak point, she don’t know whom to trust — seized him, poor devil, for some reason of their own and when we landed we found him tied up in a shed at the back.”
“What’s become of Levi?” I asked. Not that I cared one way or the other. She had made use of me, good use of me — with the rest!
“Gone!” he said curtly. “And wise to go! We shall take their horses. That’ll be some punishment. I would have strung him up with good will, but there are times when we need a dirty tool.”
“Though you prefer a clean one,” I said bitterly. And I thought of myself.
He laughed. “Madam Con will in future,” he said. “She’s had a lesson. But, lord, how happy that girl is! Her father is safe, and she has saved him!”
“Well, he’s no use as a spy any more!” I said. I was feeling mad, as the saying is.
“That’s true,” he replied, not losing his good humor for a moment. “As an American André — by your leave, Major — he’s blown upon. The risk always made the girl miserabl
e, and many’s the night I, fancy, that she has not slept for thinking of him. Now that is at an end, and she’s doubly happy. But there,” breaking off, “let us go into the open air. In a few minutes I must be moving. My men are on the other bank, and when the fog lifts we are too near your post at the Ferry and too far from our own supports to be comfortable. I’ve a boat behind the mill and I can cross in five minutes, but I shall not be happy until we are on the other side of the Black River. I would not have come so far for any one but that girl.”
“Nor I,” I said, forgetting myself for a moment.
Fortunately he had his back to me and perhaps he did not hear. A moment later we were outside. “I am told that Rawdon has ordered you to be put under arrest,” he said.
“You heard that?”
“Oh, we hear everything. The blind man’s moves are easy to follow. For the matter of that Con saw your sword on my lord’s table. He was polite as pie to her,” he continued, with a chuckle. “He was another of them! He said a good deal about you; said that you’d thrown your commission in his face, and he didn’t wonder — I suppose that was a compliment to her — but that discipline must be maintained, and he didn’t know but that he’d have to send you home.”
“There are times when we are all fools,” I said gloomily.
“Suppose I make you a prisoner?” he suggested.
“You would be a mean cur, General Marion, if you did!” I cried. For the moment I was alarmed. Then I saw that he was smiling.
“Peppery as that are you?” he said. “I don’t wonder that my lord was for putting you under arrest. But don’t be afraid. You’ve set us a good example and we are going to follow it. Your fault, Major, is that you think you are the only gentlemen in the world. Whereas we are of the same blood or better!” He drew himself up, a heroic little figure, not untouched by vanity. “Of the same blood or better!” he repeated. “And if there are no gentlemen south of the Potomac River, then believe me, sir, there are no gentlemen anywhere in the world.”
Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman Page 630