Complete weird tales of.., p.127
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 127
I needed salt, having for the last week used white-wood ashes to savour my corn withal, so I entered the tavern and made known my needs to a coarse-featured, thick-set fellow, who lay in a chair smoking a clay pipe.
He rose instanter, all bows and smiles and cringing to my orders, begging me to be seated until he could find the salt sack in the cellar; and I sat down, after saluting the company, which consisted of half a dozen men playing cards by the window.
They all returned my salute, some leaning clear around to look at me; and although they resumed their game I noticed that they began talking in whispers, pausing sometimes in a shuffle to turn their eyes on me.
Presently the landlord came in with my small bag of salt, and set it on the scales with many a bow and smirk at me to beg indulgence for his delay.
“You have travelled far, sir,” he said, pointedly; “there is northern mud on your hunting-shirt and southern burrs on your legging fringe. Ha! A stroke, sir! Touched, by your leave, sir! I have run the forests myself, sir, and I read as I run — I read as I run.”
He was tying my sack up with grass, clumsily I thought for one who had lived as a forest-runner. But I waited patiently, he meanwhile conversing most politely. In fact, I could find no opportunity to courteously make an end to his garrulous chatter, and, ere I could refuse or prevent it, he 173 had persuaded me to a pewter of home-brew and had set it before me, brimming with good stout foam.
“No water there, sir!” he observed, proudly; “body and froth hum like bee-hives in August! It is my own, sir, my own, barrel and malt and hops!”
I could do no less than taste the ale, and he picked up his pipe and begged the honour of sitting in my presence: all of which ceremony revealed to me that my language and bearing were not at all in concord with my buckskin and my pack, and that he was quite aware of the discrepancy.
“Perchance, sir, you have news from Boston?” he asked, with a jolly laugh.
I shook my head. The company at the table by the window had paused to listen.
“Well, well,” he said, puffing his long clay into a glow, “these be parlous times, sir, the world over! And, between ourselves, sir, begging your pardon for the familiarity, sir, I have been wondering myself whether the King is wholly right.”
The stillness in the room was intense.
“Doubt,” said I, carelessly, “is no friend to loyalty.”
I was drinking when I finished this choice philosophy, but through the glass bottom of my pewter I surprised a very cunning squint in his puffy eyes.
“Oho!” thought I, “you wish to know my politics, eh? Let us see how much you’ll find out!” And I set down my pewter with a sigh of contentment and tossed him a shilling for my reckoning.
“But,” he suggested, “cannot even the King be deceived by unscrupulous counsellors?”
“The King should know better than you whether his ministers be what you accuse them of being,” I said, seriously.
“I meant no accusation,” he said, hastily; “but I voiced the sentiments of many honest neighbours of mine.”
“Sentiments which smack somewhat of treason,” I interrupted, coldly.
Through the bottom of my mug again I saw he was still far from satisfied concerning my real sentiments. I listened as I drank: the card-players behind me were not playing.
“Landlord,” I asked, carelessly, cutting short another argument, 174 “what may your tavern sign mean with its house running loose on a pair o’ legs?”
“It is my own name, sir,” he laughed, “Greathouse! I flatter me there is some small wit in the conceit, sir, though I painted yon sign myself!”
So this was Greathouse, a notorious loyalist — this bloated lout who had been prying and picking at me to learn my sentiments? The slyness of the fellow disgusted me, and I could scarce control my open aversion, though I did succeed in leaving him with his suspicions lulled, and got out of the house without administering to him the kick which my leg was itching for.
From the corner of my eye I could see the card-players watching me from the window; it incensed me to be so spied upon, and I was glad when a turn in the scurvy, rutted road shut me out of their vision.
There were several houses just beyond me to the left; one displayed a holly-bush and wrinkled berries, a signal to me to avoid it, and I should have done so had I not perceived Jack Mount loafing in the doorway, and Shemuel seated on the horse-block, eating a dish of fish with his fingers.
From the blotched face and false smile of Greathouse to the filthy company of Shemuel was no advantage. If these two creatures were representatives of their respective causes, I had small stomach for either them or their parties. Tory and patriot, pot-licker and Jew, they disgusted me; and I returned Mount’s cheery salute with a sullen nod, not pausing at the house as I passed by.
He came out into the road after me, asking what had gone amiss; and I told him he had left me at the fort without advice or counsel, and that I had quitted the barracks, not caring to be caught there by Butler and his warrant.
“Shame on you, lad, for the thought!” said Mount, angrily. “Do you think we do things by halves, Cade and I? The Weasel has been in touch with Butler’s men all night, ready to warn you the moment they started for this camp! He’s asleep in there, now,” jerking his huge thumb towards the inn, “and I’ve just returned from seeing Butler well on the trail towards Pittsburg.”
Mortified and ashamed at my complaint, and deeply touched 175 by the quiet kindness of these two men who had, spite of fatigue, voluntarily set out to watch while I slept, I silently offered my hand to Mount. He took it fretfully, complaining that all the world had always misunderstood him as I had, and vowing he would never more do kindness to man or beast or good red herring!
“Small blame if the world requites your generosity as stupidly as I do,” said I; whereat he fell a-laughing and drew me with him into the tavern, vowing we should wash out all bitterness in a draught of ale.
The inn, which was called “The Leather Bottle,” appeared to be clean though rough. Tables and chairs were massive, hewn out of buckeye; horn instead of glass filled the tiny squares in the window frames, and a shelf ran around the tap-room just below the loopholes, whereon men could stand to fire in any direction.
Mount presented me to a young man in homespun who had been sitting by the chimney, reading a letter — a quiet, modest gentleman of thirty, perhaps, somewhat travel-stained and spotted with reddish mud, which proclaimed him an arrival from the south.
He gave me a firm, cool clasp of the hand and a curiously sharp yet not unkindly smile, promising to join us when he had finished the letter he was reading.
I had meant to tell Mount of my conversations with Corporal Cloud and with Greathouse, but hesitated because the smallness of the room would carry even a whisper to the stranger by the chimney.
Mount must have divined my intentions, for he said, in his hearty, deep-chested voice, “You may say what you please here, Mr. Cardigan, and trust this gentleman from Maryland as you trust me, I hope.”
I had not caught the name of the young man from Maryland, and was diffident about asking. He looked up from his letter with a brief smile and nod at us, and we sat down beside one of the hewn buckeye tables and called upon the tap-boy for home-brew.
I began by telling Mount very frankly that he had put me in a false position as a rebel. I retailed my conversation with Corporal Cloud, how I had felt it dishonourable to accept 176 hospitality under a misunderstanding, and how I had deemed it necessary to confess me. But this only appeared to amuse Mount, who laughed at me maliciously over his brown tankard and sucked in the frothy ale with unfeigned smacks of satisfaction.
“Tiddle — diddle — diddle! Who the devil cares!” he said. “I wish half of our patriots possessed your tender conscience, friend Michael.”
I swallowed a draught in silence, not at all pleased to feel myself forced into a position whither it appeared everybody was conspiring to drive me.
“I’m loyal to the King,” I said, bluntly; “and when I am ready to renounce him, I shall do so, not before.”
“Certainly,” observed Mount, complacently.
“Not that I care for Tory company, either,” I added, in disgust, thinking of my encounter with Greathouse. And I related the affair to Mount.
The big fellow’s eyes narrowed and he set his tankard down with a bang.
“A sneak!” he said. “A sly, mealy-mouthed sneak! Look out for this fellow Greathouse, my friend. By Heaven, I’m sorry he saw you! You can depend upon it the news of your arrival here will be carried to Butler. Why, this fellow, Greathouse, is a notorious creature of Lord Dunmore, set here to spy on Colonel Cresap and see that the militia have no commerce with rebel emissaries from Boston. Gad, had I not believed you trusted me, and that you would sit snug in the fort yonder instead of paying calls of state on all the Tories in town—”
He took a pull at the fresh tankard, set it down two-thirds empty, and lay back in his chair, licking his lips thoughtfully.
“How long do you stay here?” he asked.
“Until I deliver my belts — that will be to-morrow.”
“I thought you wished to see Colonel Cresap, too?” he said.
“I do; he will return to-day they tell me.”
Mount leaned over the table, folding his arms under his chest.
“Hark ye, friend Michael,” he said. “Colonel Cresap, three-quarters of the militia, and all save a score or so of 177 these villagers here are patriots. The Maryland pioneers mean to make a home here for themselves, Indians or no Indians, and it will be little use for you to plead with Colonel Cresap, who could not call off his people if he would.”
“If he is a true patriot,” I said, “how can he deliberately drive the Six Nations to take up arms against the colonies?”
“What you don’t understand,” replied Mount, “is that Colonel Cresap’s people hold the Indians at small account. They are here and they mean to stay here, spite of Sir William Johnson and the Cayugas.”
“But can’t you see that it’s Dunmore’s policy to bring on a clash?” I exclaimed, in despair. “If Cresap is conciliatory towards the Cayugas, can’t you see that Dunmore will stir up such men as Butler and Greathouse to commit some act of violence? I tell you, Dunmore means to have a war started here which will forever turn the Six Nations against us.”
“Against us?” said Mount, meaningly.
“Yes — us!” I exclaimed. “If it be treason to oppose such a monstrous crime as that which Lord Dunmore contemplates, then I am guilty! If to be a patriot means to resist such men as Dunmore and Butler — ay, and our Governor Tryon, too, who knows what is being done and says nothing! — if to defend the land of one’s birth against the plots of these men makes me an enemy to the King, why — why, then,” I ended, violently, “I am the King’s enemy to the last blood drop in my body!”
There was a silence. I sat there with clinched fist on the table, teeth set, realizing what I had said, glad that I had said it, grimly determined to stand by every word I had uttered.
“Lord Dunmore represents the King,” said Mount, smiling.
“Prove it to me and I am a rebel from this moment!” I cried.
“But Lord Dunmore is only doing his duty,” urged Mount. “His Majesty needs allies.”
“Do you mean to say that Lord Dunmore is provoking war here at the King’s command?” I asked, in horror.
The young man by the chimney stood up and bent his pleasant eyes on me.
“I have here,” he said, tapping the letter in his hand, “my Lord Dunmore’s commission as major-general of militia, and his Majesty’s permission to enlist a thousand savages to serve under me in the event of rebellion in these colonies!”
I had risen to my feet at the sound of the stranger’s voice; Mount, too, had risen, tankard in hand.
“I am further authorized,” said the young stranger, coolly, “by command of my Lord Dunmore, to offer £12 sterling for every rebel scalp taken by these Indian allies of his most Christian Majesty.”
At that I went cold and fell a-trembling.
“By God!” I stammered. “By the blood of man! — this is too much — this is too—”
Crash! went Mount’s tankard on the table; and, turning to the young stranger with a bow, “I bring you a new recruit, Colonel Cresap,” he said, quietly; “will you administer the oath, sir?”
Thunderstruck, I stared at the silent young man in his gray woollen hunting-shirt and cloth gaiters who stood there, grave eyes bent on me, tearing at the edge of his paper with his white teeth.
“Pray, be seated, Mr. Cardigan,” he said, smiling. “I know you have a message for me from Sir William Johnson. I hold it an honour to receive commands from such an honourable and upright gentleman.”
He drew up a heavy buckeye chair, motioning Mount and me to be seated; the tap-boy brought his tankard; he tasted it sparingly, and leaned back, waiting for me to speak.
If my speech was halting or ill-considered, my astonishment at the identity of the stranger was to blame; but I spoke earnestly and without reserve, and my very inexperience must have pleaded with him, for he listened patiently and kindly, even when I told him, with some heat, that the whole land would hold him responsible for an outbreak on the frontier.
When I had finished, he thanked me for coming, and begged me to convey his cordial gratitude to Sir William. Then he began his defence, very modestly and with frankest confession that he had been trapped by Dunmore into a pitfall, the existence of which he had never dreamed of.
“I am to-day,” he said, “the Moses of these people, inasmuch as I have, at Lord Dunmore’s command, led them into this promised land. God knows it was the blind who led the blind. And now, for months, I have been aware that Dunmore wishes a clash with the Cayugas yonder; but, until Sir William Johnson opened my eyes, I have never understood why Lord Dunmore desired war.”
He looked at Mount as though to ask whether that notorious forest-runner had suspected Dunmore; and Mount shook his head with a sneer.
“He is a witless ass,” he muttered. “I see nothing in Mr. Cardigan’s fears that Dunmore means trouble here.”
“I do,” said Cresap, calmly. “Sir William is right; we have been tricked into this forest. Why, Jack, it’s perfectly plain to me now. This very commission in my hands, here, proves the existence of every missing link in the chain of conspiracy. This commission is made out for the purpose of buying my loyalty to Dunmore. Can’t you see?”
Mount shook his head.
Cresap flushed faintly and turned to me.
“What can I do, Mr. Cardigan? I have led these people here, but I cannot lead them back. Do you think they would follow me in a retreat? You do not know them. If I should argue with them every day for a year, I could not induce a single man to abandon the cabin he has built or the morsel of charred earth he has planted. And where should I lead them? I have nothing behind me to offer them. Virginia is over-populated. I have no land to give them except this, granted by the King — granted in spite of his royal oath, now broken to the Cayugas.
“You say the whole country will hold me responsible. I cannot help that, though God must know how unjust it would be.
“Were I to counsel the abandonment of this fort and village, Lord Dunmore would arrest me and clap me into Fort Pitt. Is it not better for me to stay here among these people who trust me? Is it not better that I remain and labour among my people in the cause of liberty?
“I can do nothing while a royal Governor governs Virginia. But if the time ever comes when our Boston brothers 180 sound the call to arms, I can lead six hundred riflemen out of this forest, whose watchword will be, ‘Liberty or Death!’”
He had grown pale while speaking; two bright scarlet patches flamed under his cheek-bones; he coughed painfully and rested his head on his hand.
“Go to your Cayugas,” he said, catching his breath. “Tell them the truth, or as much of the truth as Sir William’s wisdom permits. I am here to watch, to watch such crafty agents as Greathouse, and young Walter Butler, whom I met on the Pitt trail three hours since. Oh, I understand the situation now, Mr. Cardigan.”
He tasted his ale once more, thoughtfully.
“Keep Sir William’s Cayugas quiet if you can,” he said. “I will watch Dunmore’s agents that they do nothing to bring on war. I may fail, but I will do what I can. When do you speak to the Cayugas with belts?”
“At dawn,” I replied, soberly.
“Poor devils,” said Cresap, sadly, “poor, tricked, cheated, and plundered devils! This is their land. I should never have come had not Dunmore assured me the Cayugas had been paid for the country. And there is their great sachem, Logan, called ‘The Friend of the White Man.’ Greathouse has made a drunken sot of Logan, and all his family down to the tiny maid of ten. Ay, sir, I have seen Logan’s children lying drunk in the road there by Greathouse’s tavern — poor, little babies of twelve and ten, stark-naked, lying drunk in the rain!”
After a moment I asked why he had not expelled this fiend, Greathouse, and he replied that he had, but that Dunmore had sent him back under his special protection.
“What on earth can I do?” he repeated. “The Cayuga camp is rotten with whiskey. Their chiefs and sachems come to me and beg me to forbid the sale. I am powerless; for back of me stands Lord Dunmore in the shape of Greathouse. By God, sir, the man is a nightmare to me!”
“Why not twist his gullet?” observed Mount.
Cresap paid him no attention, and the big fellow pouted, muttering that it was a simple thing to exterminate vermin.
As we sat there, I heard the rain drumming against the horn panes in the window. The room had grown very dark.
Cresap rose, holding out his hand to me.
“Shall I administer the oath of fellowship, my friend?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I replied, taking his hand.
