Complete weird tales of.., p.120
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 120
Mistress Molly we pledged with a shout, and she returned our courtesy with gentle gravity, but her eyes were for Sir William alone.
Then Lord Dunmore gave:
“Our lovely heiress, Mistress Warren!” ending in a hiccough, and poor Silver Heels, pale as a white blossom, half rose from her seat as though to fly to Mistress Molly.
Red Jacket was on his feet now, slavering and mouthing and hacking at the air, and Brant and I dragged him out into the garden where his squaw took charge, leading him lurching and howling down the hill. Before I returned, the ladies were in the hallway and the card-room, the gentlemen following in groups from the table, some shamefully unsteady of leg, and feebly scattering snuff in amiable invitation to their neighbours.
But Sir William had disappeared, and I hunted vainly for him until I encountered Mrs. Hamilton, who directed me to the library, whither, she averred, Sir William, Governor Tryon, and Lord Dunmore had retired.
“State secrets, Master Michael,” she added, saucily. “You had best find Mr. Bevan and start those same lessons we have discussed.”
“Let me instruct him by proxy,” said I, drawing her under the stairs, and ere she could protest or escape, I kissed her lips three separate times.
She was in tears in an instant, which I had not counted on, and it needed my most earnest acting to subdue her indignation.
I had my arm around her, and my coat was all powder and rouge, when something made me look around. There was Silver Heels going towards the pantry with Betty, doubtless to pouch some sweets for her black nurse. Her head was steadily lowered, her lashes rested on her cheeks, but face and 109 neck and bosom were glowing in a deep colour, and I knew she had perceived us, and that she despised us with all the strength of her innocent soul.
Stunned with the conviction that I had gone too far, I made out to play my miserable farce to an end and led Mrs. Hamilton out where Mr. Bevan could pounce upon her, which he did with an insolence that I had little spirit to notice or resent.
Then I hastened to the pantry where Silver Heels stood before the rifled dishes, hands to her face, and black Betty a-petting her. But at sight of me she turned scarlet and shrank back, nor would she listen to one word.
“What yoh done to mah li’l Miss Honey-bee?” exclaimed Betty, wrathfully, shaking her turban till the rings in her big ears jingled like sledge-bells in December. “I done ‘spec’ yoh, Mars Ca’digan, suh! Yaas, I ‘spec’ yoh is lak all de young gemmen!”
Then the old witch began a-crooning over Silver Heels with deadly glances at me:
“Doan yoh cyah, li’l Miss Honey-bee, doan yoh mind nuff’n! Huh! Had mah s’picions ‘bout dat young Mars Ca’digan. Doan yoh mind him no moh’n a blue-tail fly!”
“Very well,” said I, angrily, “you can do as you choose, and think what you like. As for your fool of a dragoon, Mrs. Hamilton will settle him, and if she doesn’t I will.”
My foolish outburst seemed to rouse a panther in Silver Heels, and for a moment I believed she meant to strike me. But the storm swept over, leaving her with limbs a-quiver and eyes wet.
“You have spoiled my first pleasure,” she said, in a low, trembling voice. “You have conducted like a clown and a libertine where all beheld you making shameful love to a wedded woman! Oh, Betty, Betty, send him away!” she sobbed, burying her head in the black woman’s breast.
“Silver Heels,” I said, choking, “can you not understand that it is I who wish to wed you?”
Again the panther blazed in her gray eyes, but her lips were bloodless as she gasped: “Oh, the insult! Betty — do you hear? He would marry me out of pity! That is twice he has said it!”
“I said it before because I would not have you marry Mr. Butler,” said I, wincing at her scorn. “But I say it now because — because — I love you, Silver Heels.”
All her horror of me was in her eyes. I saw it and set my teeth hard, hopeless now forever, even of her careless affection.
And so I left her there, with Betty’s arms around her, and the hot scorn in her eyes. But as I went away, chilled with self-contempt and mortification, heedless, utterly careless what I did to further degrade myself in her eyes, came black Betty a-waddling to pluck me by the sleeve and whisper:
“Doan yoh go to wed wif nobody, Mars Ca’digan, suh! Doan yoh go foh to co’t nobody. Mah li’l chile — mah li’l Miss Honey-bee ain’t done growed up yet, suh. Bime-by she’ll know moh’n she ‘specs ‘bout gemmens, suh.”
But my evil nature was uppermost, and I laughed and bade Betty mind her own affairs, leaving her there grumbling and mumbling about “fool boys” and “li’l fool Honey-bees,” till the clatter and din from the card-room shut her voice from my ears.
CHAPTER VIII
WHEN I CAME to the library the door stood partly open, and I could see a party of gentlemen lounging within, and somewhat boisterous over their wine and filberts; so thinking no harm to enter, I walked in and sat down on the arm of a leather chair by the window.
Nobody had observed me, however, and I was on the point of respectfully making known my presence to Sir William, when I saw Walter Butler rise and shut the door, taking the additional precaution to lock it. Turning to rejoin the company around the table, his dark golden eyes fell upon me, and he stood still, one hand tightening on the back of his chair.
“Well?” inquired Sir William, testily, looking up at Mr. Butler. “When you are seated, sir, I will continue, unless I weary the company.”
“If Mr. Cardigan has been here all this time, I, for one, was not aware of it,” observed Mr. Butler, coldly, never taking his unblinking eyes off me.
I began to explain to Sir William that I had but that moment came in, when he interrupted querulously, and motioned Mr. Butler to be seated.
“Tush! tush! Let be, let be, Captain Butler! My young kinsman has my confidence, and it is time he should know something of what passes in his own country.”
“At sixteen,” observed my Lord Dunmore, with a maudlin chuckle, “I knew a thing or two, I’ll warrant you — curse me if I didn’t, Sir William!”
Sir John Johnson regarded me without interest; Colonel Claus never even troubled to give me a glance, but I saw the hawk’s eyes of Walter Butler watching me steadily.
“To resume,” began Sir William, but Lord Dunmore broke out:
“At sixteen I had outlived you all — pierce me if I hadn’t, 112 now, Sir William! Scratch me raw! if I hadn’t put a finger in the world’s pudding, a-stirring the plums at sixteen, by God!”
“Doubtless, my Lord,” said Sir William, dryly. “And now, gentlemen, concerning our show of force here, I have only to say — and I say it with all respect and submission to Governor Tryon — that I do not believe it will produce that salutary effect on the discontented in New York and Boston which Governor Tryon expects.”
“Gad! I do expect it!” said Tryon, briskly. “Look you, Sir William, you and your militia dominate the county, and these rascals must be brought to understand it. Trust me, messires, the damned Yankees will know of this militia display before the post rides into Boston!”
“Add our Mohawks to the militia,” observed Walter Butler, in a colourless voice.
Sir William’s jaw was set hard, but he said nothing.
“Add the whole Six Nations,” suggested Lord Dunmore, leering at Sir William; “come, now! curse me blind! but we shall have the whole Six Nations, and that filthy little Red Jacket to boot.”
“My Lord,” replied Sir William, “if it lay with your Lordship you would have Red Jacket against you.”
This blunt rebuke almost sobered Lord Dunmore for a moment, and he asked Sir William what he meant.
“I mean,” said the Baronet, “that you mocked this powerful chief, Red Jacket, at my table to-night, and he knew it. That is not the way to gain allies, my Lord.”
“The drunken, guzzling son of a slut!” bawled Lord Dunmore, “d’ye think I care what the bandy-legged little beast thinks?”
“I only know,” replied Sir William, curtly, “that if your Lordship has so conducted in Virginia, the King cannot look for any Indian support in that colony.”
“Oh, choke me, Sir William, but that’s too bad now! — pinch me blue if it isn’t!” protested Lord Dunmore in a pet. Then a subtle smirk settled on his waxen cast of a face and he winked his weak eyes at Walter Butler, a proceeding observed by me and by Sir William.
Not for a moment now did I doubt that Lord Dunmore 113 had set Colonel Cresap to drive the Cayugas into a hatred for the colonies, nor did I doubt but that Walter Butler knew of this plan, perhaps had even connived at it.
Sir William, too, had come to some quick conclusion, for I saw the crease deepen around his jaws, and his steady eyes strike fire. But he said nothing to interrupt Lord Dunmore, who had now launched into a gust of incoherent words and protestations and hiccoughs, to which all listened sneeringly until his voice ended with a hollow buzz inside his wine-glass.
There came a silence, broken by the clear sarcastic tones of Sir William.
“I beg permission to submit to Governor Tryon the opinion of a country Baronet — for what that opinion may be worth.”
“With pleasure,” said Governor Tryon, cordially, looking up from the plate of nuts he was picking.
“And this is my opinion,” continued Sir William, “that, firstly, the disaffected classes in Boston and New York will not care a fig for our conference here, nor for our show of militia; that, secondly, if they should once entertain a suspicion that England, in the event of war, proposes to employ savages as allies to subdue rebellion, we would have to-morrow the thirteen colonies swarming like thirteen hives to sting us all to death — ay — and there would not be an Indian left twixt here and the Ohio!”
“What would become of them?” piped up Lord Dunmore, so innocently that I saw Governor Tryon pass his hand over his mouth to conceal a smile. But Walter Butler’s passionless voice was sounding now, and I saw Sir William turn his head to lose no gesture or shade of meaning.
“It is come to the point where either the rebels are to win over the Indians, or where we must take measures to secure their services. I am not in a position to inform you, gentlemen, as to the actual existing conditions in the Indian Department. That, Sir William can do better than any one in America. Therefore, I beg Sir William to kindly make it clear to us what chances we have to win the support of the Six Nations — in the event of a rebel rising against the King’s authority.”
The tangled knot was cut, the cat had sprung from the bag. 114 Yet nobody by glance or word or gesture appeared to be aware of it.
Sir William’s manner was perfectly composed, though that deep crease binding his chin deepened, and his brows bent in towards his nose as he rested his chin on his hand and spoke, eyes fixed on his wine-glass:
“Captain Butler believes that it has come to this: that either those in authority or the disaffected must seek allies among these savage hordes which hang like thunder-clouds along our frontiers. Gentlemen, I am not of that opinion. I have said openly, and I care not who knows it, that if war must come between England and these colonies, let it be a white man’s war; in mercy, let it be a war between two civilized peoples, and not a butchery of demons!
“I do believe — and I say so solemnly and before God — that it is possible to so conduct that these savages will remain neutral if war must come. Ay, more! I will answer for them!”
He lifted his eyes and looked straight at Lord Dunmore, raising his voice slightly, but betraying no passion.
“And, gentlemen, as I am his Majesty’s intendant of Indian affairs in North America, I shall now do all that I can to pacify my wards, to keep them calm and orderly in the event of a war which I, for one, regard with horror. Were I to do otherwise, I must account to my King for a trust betrayed, and I must answer also to Him whom King and subject alike account to.”
On Walter Butler’s lips a sneer twitched; my Lord Dunmore wiped his bleared eyes with a rag of lace and stared at everybody with drunken gravity.
“I know not,” said Sir William, slowly, “what true loyalty may be if it be not to save the honour of our King, and rebuke those who seek to tarnish it. And if there are now those among his counsellors or deputies who urge him to seek these savages as allies, I say it is a monstrous thing and an inspiration from hell itself.”
He swung on his elbow and fixed his eyes on Walter Butler.
“You, sir, know something of border war. How then can you propose to let loose these Indians on the people of our colonies?”
“Lest they let loose these same savages on us,” replied Mr. Butler, calmly.
Sir William frowned.
“You do not know the colonists, Mr. Butler,” he said. “What marvel then that my Lord North should misunderstand them, and think to buy their loyalty with tuppence worth o’ tea?”
“Come, come, Sir William!” cried Governor Tryon, laughing, and plainly anxious to break the tension ere sharp words flew. “Did I not know you to the bone, sir, I should deem it my duty to catechise you concerning the six articles of loyalty!”
“I, too, i’ faith!” squeaked Lord Dunmore. “Skewer me! Sir William, but you talk like a Boston preacher — ay — that you do, and—”
“Have done, sir!” cut in Sir William, with such bitter contempt that the faces of all present sobered quickly. Even Governor Tryon glanced uneasily at Lord Dunmore to see how he might swallow such a pill, but that nobleman only blinked stupidly and sucked his thin lips, too drunk to understand how like a lackey he had been silenced.
Sir John Johnson and Colonel Claus, deputies to Sir William in the Indian Department, exchanged puzzled glances. But I noticed that Mr. Butler never took his eyes from Sir William’s darkening visage.
“There is one more matter,” said the Baronet, “that I may be pardoned for introducing here amid all the perplexities of the times; but it is a matter touching on my own stewardship, and as that concerns my King, I deem it necessary to broach it.”
He turned again deliberately on Lord Dunmore.
“It has come to my knowledge that certain unauthorized people are tampering with a distant tribe of my Cayuga Indians. I know not, nor do I care, what the motives of these men may be, but I protest against it, and I shall do all in my power — without infringing on the rights or laws of a sister colony — to protect my Cayugas from unlawful aggression!”
“Damme!” gurgled Lord Dunmore, passing his jewelled hand over his befuddled head. “Damme, Sir William, d’ye 116 mean to accuse me? Curse me! Skewer me! Claw me raw! but it is not fair,” he snivelled. “No, it is not fair! Take your hands off my sleeve and be done a-twitching it, Captain Butler! Damme! I never set Cresap on. Will ye have done a-pinching my arm, Captain Butler?”
The ghastly humour of the exposure, the ludicrous self-conviction of his tipsy Lordship — for nobody had mentioned Cresap — the startling disclosure, too, of Walter Butler’s interest in the plot — for that it was a plot no longer could anybody doubt — cast a gloom over the company.
Every man present understood what Cresap’s aggression meant; no man there dared acknowledge a desire for Cresap’s success.
Then Sir William’s sarcastic voice pierced the silence.
“I trust your Lordship would not believe that any gentleman present could harbour suspicions of a foul conspiracy between your Lordship and Captain Butler, to incite my Cayugas to attack white men!”
Walter Butler’s slow eye rested on Lord Dunmore, on Sir William, and then on me. But his bloodless visage never changed.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, let us have harmony here at any cost,” protested Governor Tryon, half in jest, half in earnest. “God knows I have discord enough in New York town without seeking it among the loyalists of this county. Nobody believes that my Lord Dunmore is seeking trouble with your tame Indians, Sir William. If this fellow Cresap, who is a notorious malcontent, too, be imposing on the Cayugas, I doubt not that my Lord Dunmore will recall him and deal with him severely.”
“No, I won’t! Claw my vitals if I do!” snapped his Lordship, in the drunken sulks, and straightway fell a-squabbling with Walter Butler, who had again laid a hand on his arm.
For Captain Butler knew his treachery had been discovered, and his shameless impudence in openly attempting to muzzle his noble partner in conspiracy passed all bounds of decency.
I saw the angry light glimmer in Sir William’s eyes, and I knew it boded no good to Walter Butler, as far as his hope of Silver Heels was concerned. A fierce happiness filled me. 117 So now, at last, Sir William was discovering the fangs in his pet snake!
Lord Dunmore had succeeded in reversing a decanter of port over himself and Colonel Claus, and the latter, mad as a wet cat, left the room swearing audibly, while his playful Lordship threw a few glasses after him and then collapsed in a soiled heap of silk and jewels, feebly calling on “Billy Tryon” to try and “conduc like er — er — gen’l-m’n, b’ God!”
Sir William was steadily staring at Walter Butler; I, too, had my eye on him; and, when he left the table to saunter towards the door, Sir William rose immediately to follow him, and I after Sir William.
He saw us coming as he opened the door, and surveyed us with cool effrontery as we joined him in the hallway.
“I shall not require your services hereafter as my secretary, Captain Butler,” said Sir William. “Will you kindly hand your keys to me?”
“At your command, Sir William,” replied Mr. Butler, drawing the keys from his pocket and presenting them with an ironical inclination.
The man’s careless self-possession was marvellous considering he was facing the man he had so vilely betrayed.
“Mr. Butler,” said Sir William, with reddening face, “I consider myself released from my consent to your union with my kinswoman, Miss Warren!”
