Horse-Shoe Robinson: A Tale of the Tory Ascendency

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER XVII.

  SCENE IN THE BIVOUAC.

  "Bustle, my lads--bustle! These are stirring times," exclaimedHabershaw, riding with an air of great personal consequence into themidst of the troop, as they were gathered, still on horseback, under thechestnut. "We have made a fine night's work of it, and, considering thatwe fought in the dark against men ready armed for us, this has not beensuch a light affair. To be sure, in point of numbers, it is a trifle;but the plan, Peppercorn--the plan, and the despatch, and the neatnessof the thing--that's what I say I am entitled to credit for. Bless yoursoul, Peppercorn, these fellows were sure to fall into my trap--therewas no getting off. That's the effect of my generalship, you see,Peppercorn. Study it, boy! We could have managed about twenty more ofthe filthy rebels handsomely; but this will do--this will do. I took, asa commanding officer ought always to do, the full responsibility of themeasure, and a good share of the fight. Did I not, Peppercorn? Wasn't I,in your opinion, about the first man in the river?"

  "I'll bear witness, valiant and victorious captain," answered thedragoon, "that you fired the first shot; and I am almost willing to makeoath that I saw you within at least twenty paces of the enemy, exhortingyour men."

  "Now lads--wait for the word--dismount!" continued the captain, "andmake up your minds to pass the night where you are. Peppercorn, theprisoners I put under your identical charge. Remember that! keep youreyes about you. Set a guard of four men upon them; I will make youaccountable." He then added, in an under tone, "hold them safe untilto-morrow, man, and I promise you, you shall have no trouble in watchingthem after that."

  "You shall find them," replied Peppercorn.

  "Silence," interrupted the captain; "hear my orders, and give no reply.Now, sir, before you do anything else, call your roll, and report yourkilled, wounded, and missing."

  Upon this order, the dragoon directed the men, after disposing of theirhorses, to form a line. He then called over the squad by their realnames, and immediately afterwards reported to his superior, who, inorder to preserve a proper dignified distance, had retreated some pacesfrom the group, the following pithy and soldier-like account:--

  "Two men wounded, noble captain, in the late action; two missing; onehorse, saddle and bridle lost; one horse and two prisoners taken fromthe enemy."

  "The names of the wounded, sir?"

  "Tom Dubbs and Shadrach Green; one slightly scratched, and the otherbruised by a kick from the blacksmith."

  "The missing, sir?"

  "Dick Waters, commonly called Marrow Bone, and Roger Bell, known in yourhonor's list by the name of Clapper Claw."

  "They have skulked," said the captain.

  "Marrow Bone is as dead as a door nail, sir," said the orderly withperfect indifference, and standing affectedly erect. "He fell in theriver, and the probability is that Clapper Claw keeps him company."

  "What!" roared Habershaw, "have the diabolical scoundrels made away withany of my good fellows? Have the precious lives of my brave soldiersbeen poured out by the d----d rebels? By my hand, they shall feeltwisted rope, Peppercorn!--cold iron is too good for them."

  "Softly, captain!" said the orderly. "You don't blame the enemy forshowing fight? We mustn't quarrel with the chances of war. There is notoften a fray without a broken head, captain. We must deal with theprisoners according to the laws of war."

  "Of Tory war, Peppercorn, aye, that will I! String the dogs up to thefirst tree. The devil's pets, why didn't they surrender when we set uponthem! To-morrow: let them look out to-morrow. No words, orderly; sendout two files to look for the bodies, and to bring in the stray horseif they can find him. A pretty night's work! to lose two good pieces ofstuff for a brace of black-hearted whigs!"

  The two files were detailed for the duty required, and immediately setout, on foot, towards the scene of the late fray. The rest of the troopwere dismissed from the line.

  "I would venture to ask, sir," said Butler, addressing the captain, "fora cup of water: I am much hurt."

  "Silence, and be d----d to you!" said Habershaw gruffly, "silence, andknow your place, sir. You are a prisoner, and a traitor to boot."

  "Don't you hear the gentleman say he is hurt?" interposed Robinson."It's onnatural, and more like a beast than a man to deny a prisoner alittle water."

  "By my sword, villain, I will cleave your brain for you, if you openthat rebel mouth of yours again!"

  "Pshaw, pshaw! Captain Habershaw, this will never do," said Peppercorn;"men are men, and must have food and drink. Here, Gideon Blake, give meyour flask of liquor and bring me some water from the river. It is myduty, captain, to look after the prisoners."

  Gideon Blake, who was a man of less savage temper than most of hisassociates, obeyed this command with alacrity, and even added a fewwords of kindness, as he assisted in administering refreshment to theprisoners. This evidence of a gentler nature did not escape the commentof the ruffian captain, who still remembered his old grudge against thetrooper.

  "Away, sir," he said in a peremptory and angry tone, "away and attend toyour own duty. You are ever fond of obliging these beggarly whigs. Harkyou, Peppercorn," he added, speaking apart to the dragoon, "take carehow you trust this skulking vagabond: he will take bribes from therebels, and turn his coat whenever there is money in the way. I have myeye upon him."

  "If I chose to speak," said Gideon Blake.

  "Hold your peace, you grey fox," cried the captain. "Not a word! I knowyour doublings. Remember you are under martial law, and blast me, if Idon't make you feel it! There are more than myself suspect you."

  "I should like to know," said Butler, "why I and my companion aremolested on our journey. Have we fallen amongst banditti, or do you beara lawful commission? If you do, sir, let me tell you, you have disgracedit by outrage and violence exercised towards unoffending men, and shallanswer for it when the occasion serves. On what pretence have we beenarrested?"

  "Hark, my young fighting-cock," replied the captain. "You will know yourmisdemeanors soon enough. And if you would sleep to-night with a wholethroat, you will keep your tongue within your teeth. It wouldn't takemuch to persuade me to give you a little drum-head law. Do you hearthat?"

  "It is my advice, major," whispered Robinson, "to ax no questions ofthese blackguards."

  "Be it so, sergeant," said Butler, "I am weary and sick."

  When other cares were disposed of, and the excited passions of thelawless gang had subsided into a better mood, the dragoon took Butler'scloak from the baggage and spread it upon the ground beneath the shelterof the shrubbery, and the suffering officer was thus furnished a bedthat afforded him some small share of comfort, and enabled to take thatrest which he so much needed. Robinson seated himself on the groundbeside his companion, and in this situation they patiently resignedthemselves to whatever fate awaited them.

  Soon after this the whole troop were busy in the preparations forrefreshment and sleep. The horses were either _hobbled_, by a cord fromthe fore to the hind foot, and turned loose to seek pasture around thebivouac, or tethered in such parts of the forest as furnished them anopportunity to feed on the shrubbery. The fire was rekindled, and somesmall remnants of venison roasted before it; and in less than an hourthis reckless and ill-governed band were carousing over their cups withall the rude ribaldry that belonged to such natures.

  "Come, boys," said Peppercorn, who seemed to take a delight in urgingthe band into every kind of excess, and who possessed that sort of swayover the whole crew, including their leader no less than the privates,which an expert and ready skill in adapting himself to the humor of thecompany gave him, and which faculty be now appeared to exercise for theincrease of his own influence. "Come, boys, laugh while you can--that'smy motto. This soldiering is a merry life, fighting, drinking, andjoking. By the God of war! I will enlist the whole of you into theregular service--Ferguson or Cruger, which you please, boys! they areboth fine fellows and would give purses of gold for such charming, gay,swaggering blades. Fill up your cans and prepare for another bou
t. I'mnot the crusty cur to stint thirsty men. A toast, my gay fellows!"

  "Listen to Peppercorn," cried out some three or four voices.

  "Here's to the honor of the brave captain Hugh Habershaw, and hisglorious dogs that won the battle of Grindall's ford!"

  A broad and coarse laugh burst from the captain at the announcement ofthis toast.

  "By my sword!" he exclaimed, "the fight was not a bad fight."

  "Can you find a joint of venison, Gideon?" said Peppercorn, aside. "Ifyou can, give it, and a cup of spirits, to the prisoners. Stop, I'll doit myself, you will have the old bull-dog on your back."

  And saying this the dragoon rose from his seat, and taking a fewfragments of the meat which had been stripped almost to the bone, placedthem, together with a canteen, beside Butler.

  "Make the best of your time," he said, "you have but short allowance andnone of the best. If I can serve you, I will do it with a good heart;so, call on me."

  Then turning to the sergeant, who sat nigh, he whispered in his ear,and, with a distinct and somewhat taunting emphasis, inquired,

  "Friend Horse Shoe, mayhap thou knowest me?"

  "That I do, James Curry," replied the sergeant, "and I have a meanopinion of the company you keep. I don't doubt but you are ashamed tosay how you come by them."

  "All is fish that comes into the Dutchman's net," said Curry. "To-nightI have caught fat game. You are a sturdy fellow, master Blacksmith, andgood at a tug, but remember, friend, I owe you a cuff, and if youweren't a prisoner you should have it."

  "Show me fair play, James Curry, and you shall have a chance now," saidHorse Shoe; "I'll keep my parole to surrender when it is over."

  "Silence, fool!" returned Curry, at the same time rudely pinchingRobinson's ear. "You will be a better man than I take you to be, if youever wrestle with me again. I have not forgotten you."

  The dragoon now rejoined his comrades.

  "Peppercorn," cried Habershaw, "d----n the prisoners, let them fastto-night. The lads want a song. Come, the liquor's getting low, we wantnoise, we want uproar, lad! Sing, bully, sing!"

  "Anything to get rid of the night, noble captain. What shall I giveyou?"

  "The old catch, master Orderly. The Jolly Bottle, the Jolly Bottle,"cried Habershaw, pronouncing this word according to ancient usage, withthe accent on the last syllable, as if spelt "bottel;" "give us theJolly Bottle, we all know the chorus of that song. And besides it's thebest in your pack."

  "Well, listen, my wet fellows!" said Peppercorn, "and pipe lustily inthe chorus."

  Here the orderly sang, to a familiar old English tune, the followingsong, which was perhaps a common camp ditty of the period.

  "You may talk as you please of your candle and book, And prate about virtue, with sanctified look; Neither priest, book, nor candle, can help you so well To make friends with the world as the Jolly Bottle."

  "Chorus, my lads; out with it!" shouted the singer; and the whole crewset up a hideous yell as they joined him.

  "Sing heave and ho, and trombelow, The Jolly Bottle is the best I trow.

  "Then take the bottle, it is well stitched of leather, And better than doublet keeps out the wind and weather: Let the bottom look up to the broad arch of blue, And then catch the drippings, as good fellows do. With heave and ho, and trombelow, 'Tis sinful to waste good liquor, you know.

  "The soldier, he carries his knapsack and gun. And swears at the weight as he tramps through the sun But, devil a loon, did I ever hear tell, Who swore at the weight of the Jolly Bottle. So heave and ho, and trombelow, The Jolly Bottle is a feather, I trow."

  Here the song was interrupted by the return of the two files who hadbeen sent to bring in the bodies of the dead. They had found the missinghorse, and now led him into the circle laden with the corpses of Belland Waters. The troopers halted immediately behind the ring of therevellers, and in such a position as to front Peppercorn and thecaptain, who were thus afforded a full view of the bodies by the blazeof the fire.

  "Easy," almost whispered Habershaw, now half-intoxicated, to the twotroopers, as he lifted his hands and motioned to them to halt; "put themdown gently on the ground. Go on, Peppercorn; let the dead helpthemselves: finish the song! That chorus again, my boys!" And here thelast chorus was repeated in the highest key of merriment.

  Peppercorn cast an eye at the bodies which, during the interval, hadbeen thrown on the earth, and while the men who had just returned werehelping themselves to the drink, he proceeded, in an unaltered voice,with the song.

  "When drinkers are dry, and liquor is low, A fray that takes off a good fellow or so, Why, what does it do, but help us to bear The loss of a comrade, in drinking his share? Then heave and ho, and trombelow, A fray and a feast are brothers, you know.

  "The philosophers say it's a well-settled fact, That a vessel will leak whose bottom is cracked; And a belly that's drilled with a bullet, I think, Is a very bad belly to stow away drink. So heave and ho, and trombelow, The dead will be dry to-night, I trow."

  "There they are, captain," said one of the returning troopers, after thesong, to which he and his companions had stood listening with delightedcountenances, was brought to an end, "there they are. We found DickWaters lying in the road, and when we first came to him he gave a sortof groan, but we didn't lift him until we came back from hunting RogerBell; by that time the fellow was as dead as a pickled herring. Where doyou think we found Clapper Claw? Why, half a mile, almost, down thestream. He was washed along and got jammed up betwixt the roots of asycamore. We had a long wade after him, and trouble enough to gethim--more, I'm thinking, than a dead man is worth. So, give us some morerum; this is ugly work to be done in the dark."

  "Scratch a hole for them, lads, under the bushes," said Habershaw; "puta sod blanket over them before morning. That's the fortune of war, asPeppercorn calls it. How are the wounded men getting along?"

  "Oh bravely, captain," replied Shad Green, or, according to hisnickname, Red Mug: "this here physic is a main thing for a scratch."

  "Bravely!" echoed Screech Owl, or Tom Dubbs, the same who had beenreported by the dragoon as "kicked by the blacksmith;" "we areplastering up sores here with the jolly bottle:--

  "Sing heave and ho, and trombelow, The Jolly Bottle is a feather, I trow."

  "What's a cracked crown, so as it holds a man's brains?" continued thedrunken carouser, whilst a laugh deformed his stupid physiognomy.

  "How are we off for provisions, quarter-master?" inquired the captain ofone of the gang.

  "Eaten out of skin, from nose to tail," replied Black Jack.

  "Then the squad must forage to-night," continued Habershaw. "We musttake a buck, my sweet ones; there are plenty along the river. Get yourrifles and prepare lights, and, to keep out of the way of our horses,don't stop short of a mile. Be about it, lads. Black Jack, this is yourbusiness."

  "True, Captain," replied the person addressed: "I shall have all thingsready directly."

  It was near midnight when Black Jack, having prepared some faggots ofpitch-pine, and selected three or four of the best marksmen, left thebivouac to look for deer. Habershaw himself, though lazy andinordinately impressed with a sense of his own dignity, and now confusedwith liquor, could not resist the attraction of this sport. Heaccordingly, not long after the others had departed, took a rifle, and,attended by his bull-dog, whom he never parted from on any occasion,slowly followed in the direction chosen by the hunters.

  Those in advance had scarcely walked along the margin of the river amile before they lighted their faggots, and began to beat theneighboring thickets; and their search was not protracted many minuteswhen the light of their torches was thrown full upon the eyes of a buck.A shot from one of the marksmen told with unerring precision in theforehead of the animal.

  The report and the light brought the corpulent captain into then
eighborhood. He had almost walked himself out of breath and, as he didnot very well preserve his perpendicularity, or a straight line ofmarch, he had several times been tripped up by the roots of trees, or byrocks and briers in his path. Exhausted, at length, and puzzled by thestupefaction of his own brain, as well as by the surrounding darkness,he sat down at the foot of a tree, determined to wait the return of thehunting party. His faithful and congenial "Beauty," not less pursy andshort-winded than himself, and not more savage or surly in disposition,now couched upon his haunches immediately between his master's legs; andhere this pair of beastly friends remained, silent and mutually soothedby their own companionship. During this interval the person who bore thefire, followed by one of the marksmen, crept slowly onward to thevicinity of the spot where the captain had seated himself. The lapse oftime had proved too much for Habershaw's vigilance, and he had, atlength, with his head resting against the trunk of the tree, fallen intoa drunken slumber. The short crack of a rifle at hand, and the yell ofhis dog awakened him. He started upon his feet with sudden surprise, andstepping one pace forward, stumbled and fell over the dead body of hisfavorite Beauty, who lay beneath him weltering in blood. The shot wasfollowed by a rush of the hunter up to the spot: it was Gideon Blake.

  "Buck or doe, it is my shot!" cried Gideon, as he halted immediatelybeside Habershaw.

  "May all the devils blast you, Gideon Blake!" thundered on the incensedcaptain. "You have sought my life, you murdering wolf, and your bullethas killed Beauty."

  "I shot at the eyes of what I thought a deer," returned Blake. "You werea fool, Hugh Habershaw, to bring a dog into such a place.

  "My poor dog! my brave dog! Beauty was worth ten thousand such bastardvillains as you! And to have him killed! May the devil feast upon yoursoul this night, Gideon Blake! Go! and account for your wickedness. Takethat, snake! tiger! black-hearted whig and rebel! and be thankful thatyou didn't come to your end by the help of hemp!" and in this gust ofpassion he struck his knife into the bosom of the trooper, who groaned,staggered, and fell.

  At this moment the person bearing the fire, hearing the groan of hiscomrade, rushed up to the spot and seized Habershaw's arm, just as themonster was raising it over the fallen man to repeat the blow.

  "Damn him! see what he has done!" exclaimed the captain, as he lifted upthe dead body of the dog so as to show in the light the wound inflictedby the ball between the eyes; "this poor, faithful, dumb beast was wortha hundred such hell-hounds as he!"

  "I am murdered," said the wounded man; "I am murdered in cold blood."

  The noise at this place brought together the rest of the hunters, whowere now returning with the buck thrown across a horse that had been ledby one of the party. Blake's wound was examined by them, and some linenapplied to staunch the blood. The man had fainted, but it was notascertained whether the stab was mortal. Habershaw stood sullenlylooking on during the examination, and, finding that life had notinstantly fled, he coolly wiped his knife and restored it to his girdle.

  "The fellow has no idea of dying," he said with a visible concern, "andhas got no more than he deserves. He will live to be hung yet. Take himto quarters."

  "Make a hurdle for him," said one of the bystanders, and, accordingly,two men cut a few branches from the neighboring wood, and twisting themtogether, soon constructed a litter upon which they were able to bearthe body of the wounded hunter to the rendezvous. The others, scarcelyuttering a word as they marched along, followed slowly with the buck,and in half an hour the troop was once more assembled under thechestnut.

  For a time there was a sullen and discontented silence amongst the wholecrew, that was only broken by the groans of the wounded trooper.Occasionally there was a slight outburst of sedition from several of thetroop, as a sharper scream, indicating some sudden increase of pain,from Gideon Blake, assailed their ears. Then there were low and mutteredcurses pronounced by Habershaw, in a tone that showed his apprehensionof some vengeance against himself; and these imprecations were mingledwith hints of the disloyalty of the trooper, and charges of a pretendedpurpose to betray his fellow-soldiers, evidently insinuated by thecaptain to excuse his act of violence. Then he approached the sick manand felt his pulse, and examined his wound, and pronounced the hurt tobe trifling. "It will do him good," he said, with affected unconcern,"and teach him to be more true to his comrades hereafter." But still thefate of the man was manifestly doubtful, and the rising exasperation ofthe troop became every instant more open. Alarmed and faint-hearted atthese symptoms of discontent, Habershaw at last called the men into acircle and made them a speech, in which he expressed his sorrow for theact he had committed, endeavored to excuse himself by the plea ofpassion at the loss of his dog, and, finally, perceiving that theseexcuses did not satisfy his hearers, acknowledged his drunken conditionand his unconsciousness of the deed he had done until the horribleconsequences of it were before his eyes. Here Peppercorn interposed inhis favor, alleging that he had examined the wound, and that, in hisopinion, the trooper's life was not in danger.

  "And as the captain is sorry for it, lads," he concluded, "why, what isto be done but let the thing drop? So, if there's another canteen in thesquad, we will wet our whistles, boys, and go to sleep."

  This appeal was effectual, and was followed by a hearty cheer. So,draining the dregs of the last flask, this debauched company retired torest--Habershaw sneaking away from them with a heart loaded with maliceand revenge.

  A few men were employed, for a short time, in burying the bodies of thetroopers who were killed in the fray; and, excepting the guard, whobusied themselves in skinning the buck and broiling some choice slicesbefore the fire, and in watching the prisoners, or attending upon theirsick comrade, all were sunk into silence if not repose.