Complete weird tales of.., p.743
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 743
“I ask your pardon once again,” she said. “Please to come inside — and close the door. An open door draws lightning.”
It was already drawing the rain in violent gusts.
The thunder began to bang with that metallic and fizzling tone which it takes on when the bolts fall very near; flash after flash of violet light illuminated the shack at intervals, and the rafters trembled as the black shadows buried us.
“Have you a light hereabout?” I asked.
“No,”
For ten minutes or more the noise of the storm made it difficult to hear or speak. I could scarce see her now in the gloom. And so we waited there in silence until the roar of the rain began to die away, and it slowly grew lighter outside and the thunder grew more distant.
I went to the door, looked out into the dripping woods, and turned to her.
“When will you bring the Sagamore to me?” I demanded.
“I have not promised.”
“But you will?”
She waited a while, then:
“Yes, I will bring him.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“And if it rains again’’
“It will rain all night, but I shall send you the Sagamore. Best go, sir. The real tempest is yet to break. It hangs yonder above the Hudson. But you have time to gain the Lockwood House.”
I said to her, with a slight but reassuring smile, most kindly intended:
“Now that I am no longer misunderstood by you, I may inform you that in what you do for me you serve our common country.” It did not seem a pompous speech to me.
“If I doubted that,” she said, “I had rather pass the knife you wear around my throat than trouble myself to oblige you.”
Her words, and the quiet, almost childish voice, seemed so oddly at variance that I almost laughed; but changed my mind.
“I should never ask a service of you for myself alone,” I said so curtly that the next moment I was afraid I had angered her, and fearing she might not keep her word to me, smiled and frankly offered her my hand.
Very slowly she put forth her own — a hand stained and roughened, but slim and small. And so I went away through the dripping bush, and down the rocky hill. A slight sense of fatigue invaded me; and I did not then understand that it came from my steady and sustained efforts to ignore what any eyes could not choose but see — this young girl’s beauty — yes, despite her sorry mien and her rags — a beauty that was fashioned to trouble men; and which was steadily invading my senses whether I would or no.
Walking along the road and springing over the puddles, I thought to myself that it was small wonder such a wench was pestered in a common soldier’s camp. For she had about her everything to allure the grosser class — a something — indescribable perhaps — but which even such a man as I had become unwillingly aware of. And I must have been very conscious of it, for it made me restless and vaguely ashamed that I should condescend so far as even to notice it. More than that, it annoyed me not a little that I should bestow any thought upon this creature at all; but what irritated me most was that Boyd had so demeaned himself as to seek her out behind my back.
When I came to the manor house, it had already begun to rain again; and even as I entered the house, a tempest of rain and wind burst once more over the hills with a violence I had scarcely expected.
Encountering Major Lockwood and Lieutenant Boyd in the hall, I scowled at the latter askance, but remembered my manners, and smoothed my face and told them of my success.
“Rain or no,” said I, “she has promised me to send this Sagamore here tonight. And I am confident she will keep her word.”
“Which means,” said Boyd, with an unfeigned sigh, “that we travel north tomorrow. Lord! How sick am I of saddle and nag and the open road. Your kindly hospitality, Major, has already softened me so that I scarce know how to face the wilderness again.”
And at supper, that evening, Boyd frankly bemoaned his lot, and Mrs. Lockwood condoled with him; but Betsy Hunt turned up her pretty nose, declaring that young men were best off in the woods, which kept them out o’ mischief. She did not know the woods.
And after supper, as she and my deceitful but handsome lieutenant lingered by the stairs, I heard her repeat it again, utterly refusing to say she was sorry or that she commiserated his desperate lot. But on her lips hovered a slight and provoking smile, and her eyes were very brilliant under her powdered hair.
All women liked Boyd; none was insensible to his charm. Handsome, gay, amusing — and tender, alas! — too often — few remained indifferent to this young man, and many there were who found him difficult to forget after he had gone his careless way. But I was damning him most heartily for the prank he played me.
I sat in the parlour talking to Mrs. Lockwood. The babies were long since in bed; the elder children now came to make their reverences to their mother and father, and so very dutifully to every guest. A fat black woman in turban and gold ear-hoops fetched them away; and the house seemed to lose a trifle of its brightness with the children’s going.
Major Lockwood sat writing letters on a card-table, a cluster of tall candles at his elbow; Mr. Hunt was reading; his wife and Boyd still lingered on the stairs, and their light, quick laughter sounded prettily at moments.
Mrs. Lockwood, I remember, had been sewing while she and I conversed together. The French alliance was our topic; and she was still speaking of the pleasure it had given all when Lewis Morris brought to her house young Lafayette. Then, of a sudden, she turned her head sharply, as though listening.
Through the roar of the storm I thought I heard the gallop of a horse. Major Lockwood lifted his eyes from his letters, fixing them on the rain-washed window.
Certainly a horseman had now pulled up at our very porch; Mr. Hunt laid aside his book very deliberately and walked to the parlour door, and a moment later the noise of the metal knocker outside rang loudly through the house.
We were now all rising and moving out into the hall, as though a common instinct of coming trouble impelled us. The black servant opened; a drenched messenger stood there, blinking in the candle light.
Major Lockwood went to him instantly, and drew him in the door; and they spoke together in low and rapid tones.
Mrs. Lockwood murmured in my ear:
“It’s one of Luther’s men. There is bad news for us from below, I warrant you.”
We heard the Major say:
“You will instantly acquaint Colonels Thomas and Sheldon with this news. Tell Captain Fancher, too, in passing.”
The messenger turned away into the storm, and Major Lockwood called after him:
“Is there no news of Moylan’s regiment?”
“None, sir,” came the panting answer; there ensued a second’s silence, a clatter of slippery hoofs, then only the loud, dull roar of the rain filled the silence.
The Major, who still stood at the door, turned around and glanced at his wife.
“What is it, dear — if we may know?” asked she, quite calmly.
“Yes,” he said, “you should know, Hannah. And it may not be true, but — somehow, I think it is. Tarleton is out.”
“Is he headed this way, Ebenezer?” asked Mr. Hunt, after a shocked silence.
“Why — yes, so they say. Luther Kinnicut sends the warning. It seems to be true.”
“Tarleton has heard, no doubt, that Sheldon’s Horse is concentrating here,” said Mr. Hunt. “But I think it better for thee to leave, Ebenezer.”
Mrs. Lockwood went over to her husband and laid her hand on his sleeve lightly. The act, and her expression, were heart-breaking, and not to be mistaken. She knew; and we also now surmised that if the Legion Cavalry was out, it was for the purpose of taking the man who stood there before our eyes. Doubtless he was quite aware of it, too, but made no mention of it.
“Alsop,” he said, turning to his son-in-law, “best take the more damaging of the papers and conceal them as usual. I shall presently be busied with Thomas and Sheldon, and may have no time for such details.”
“Will they make a stand, do you think?” I whispered to Boyd, “or shall we be sent a-packing?”
“If there be not too many of them I make a guess that Sheldon’s Horse will stand.”
“And what is to be our attitude?”
“Stand with them,” said he, laughing, though he knew well that we had been cautioned to do our errand and keep clear of all brawls.
CHAPTER III
VIEW HALLOO!
IT RAINED, RAINED, rained, and the darkness and wind combined with the uproar of the storm to make venturing abroad well nigh impossible. Yet, an orderly, riding at hazard, managed to come up with a hundred of the Continental foot, convoying the train, and, turning them in their slopping tracks, start back with them through a road running shin-high in mud and water.
Messengers, also, were dispatched to call out the district militia, and they plodded all night with their lanterns, over field and path and lonely country road.
As for Colonel Sheldon, booted, sashed, and helmeted, he sat apathetic and inert in the hall, obstinately refusing to mount his men.
“For,” says he, “it will only soak their powder and their skins, and nobody but a fool would ride hither in such a storm. And Tarleton is no fool, nor am I, either; and that’s flat!” It was not as flat as his own forehead.
“Do you mean that I am a fool to march my men back here from Lewisboro?” demanded Colonel Thomas sharply, making to rise from his seat by the empty fireplace.
Duels had sprung from less provocation than had been given by Colonel Sheldon. Mr. Hunt very mildly interposed; and a painful scene was narrowly averted because of Colonel Thomas’s cold contempt for Sheldon, which I think Captain Fancher shared.
Major Lockwood, coming in at the moment, flung aside his dripping riding cloak.
“Sir,” said he to Sheldon, “the rumour that the Legion is abroad has reached your men, and they are saddling in my barns.”
“What damned nonsense!” exclaimed Sheldon, in a pet; and, rising, strode heavily to the door, but met there his Major, one Benjamin Tallmadge, coming in, all over mud.
This fiery young dragoon’s plume, helmet, and cloak were dripping, and he impatiently dashed the water from feathers and folds.
“Sir!” began Colonel Sheldon loudly, “I have as yet given no order to saddle!”
And, “By God, sir,” says Tallmadge, “the orders must have come from somebody, for they’re doing it!”
“Sir — sir!” stammered Sheldon, “What d’ye mean by that?”
“Ah!” says Tallmadge coolly, “I mean what I say. Orders must have been given by somebody.”
No doubt; for the orders came from himself, the clever trooper that he was — and so he left Sheldon a-fuming and Major Lockwood and Mr. Hunt most earnestly persuading him to sanction this common and simple precaution.
Why he conducted so stupidly I never knew. It required all the gentle composure of Mr. Hunt and all the vigorous logic of Major Lockwood to prevent him from ordering his men to off-saddle and retire to the straw above the mangers.
Major Tallmadge and a cornet passed through the hall with their regimental standard, but Sheldon pettishly bade them to place it in the parlour and await further orders — for no reason whatever, apparently, save to exhibit a petty tyranny.
And all the while a very forest of candles remained lighted throughout the house; only the little children were asleep; the family servants and slaves remained awake, not daring to go to bed or even to close their eyes to all these rumours and uncertainties.
Colonel Thomas, his iron-grey head sunk on his breast, paced the hall, awaiting the arrival of the two escort companies of his command, yet scarcely hoping for such good fortune, I think, for his keen eyes encountered mine from time to time, and he made me gestures expressive of angry resignation.
As for Sheldon, he pouted and sulked on a sofa, and drank mulled wine, peevishly assuring everybody who cared to listen that no attack was to be apprehended in such a storm, and that Colonel Tarleton and his men now lay snug abed in New York town, a-grinning in their dreams.
A few drenched and woe-begone militia men, the pans of their muskets wrapped in rags, reported, and were taken in charge by Captain Fancher as a cattle guard for Major Lockwood’s herd.
None of Major Lockwood’s messengers were yet returned. Our rifleman had saddled our own horses, and had brought them up under one of a row of sheds which had recently been erected near the house. A pair of smoky lanterns hung under the dripping rafters; and by their light I perceived the fine horses of Major Lockwood, and of Colonels Sheldon and Thomas also, standing near ours, bridled and saddled and held by slaves.
Mrs. Lockwood sat near the parlour door, quietly sewing, but from time to time I saw her raise her eyes and watch her husband. Doubtless she was thinking of those forty golden guineas which were to be paid for the delivery of his head — perhaps she was thinking of Bloody Cunningham, and the Provost, and the noose that dangled in a painted pagoda betwixt the almshouse and the jail in that accursed British city south of us.
Mrs. Hunt had far less to fear for her quiet lord and master, who combatted the lower party only with his brains. So she found more leisure to listen to Boyd’s whispered fooleries, and to caution him with lifted finger, glancing at him sideways; and I saw her bite her lips at times to hide the smile, and tap her slender foot, and bend closer over her tabouret while her needle flew the faster.
As for me, my Sagamore had not arrived; and I finally cast a cloak about me and went out to the horse-sheds, where our rifleman lolled, chewing a lump of spruce and holding our three horses.
“Well, Jack,” said I, “this is rare weather for Colonel Tarleton’s fox hunting.”
“They say he hunts an ass, sir, too,” said Jack Mount under his breath. “And I think it must be so, for there be five score of Colonel Sheldon’s dragoons in yonder barns, drawing at jack-straws or conning their thumbs — and not a vidette out — not so much as a militia picket, save for the minute men which Colonel Thomas and Major Lockwood have sent out afoot.”
There was a certain freedom in our corps, but it never warranted such impudent presumption as this; and I sharply rebuked the huge fellow for his implied disrespect toward Colonel Sheldon.
“Very well, sir. I will bite off this unmilitary tongue o’ mine and feed it to your horse. Then, sir, if you but ask him, he will tell you very plainly that none of his four-footed comrades in the barn have carried a single vidette on their backs even as far as Poundridge village, let alone Mile-Square.”
I could scarcely avoid smiling.
“Do you then, for one, believe that Colonel Tarleton will venture abroad on such a night?”
“I believe as you do,” said the rifleman coolly, “ — being some three years or more a soldier of my country.”
“Oh! And what do I believe, Jack?”
“Being an officer who commands as good a soldier as I am, you, sir, believe as I do.”
I was obliged to laugh.
“Well, Jack — so you agree with me that the Legion Cavalry is out?”
“It is as sure that nested snake’s eggs never hatched out rattlers as it is certain that this wild night will hatch out Tarleton!”
“And why is it so certain in your mind, Jack Mount?”
“Lord, Mr. Loskiel,” he said with a lazy laugh, “you know how Mr. Boyd would conduct were he this same Major Tarleton! You know what Major Parr would do — and what you and I and every officer and every man of Morgan’s corps would do on such a night to men of Sheldon’s kidney!”
“You mean the unexpected.”
“Yes, sir. And this red fox on horseback, Tarleton, has ever done the same, and will continue till we stop his loping with a bit o’ lead.”
I nodded and looked out into the rain-swept darkness. And I knew that our videttes should long since have been set far out on every road twixt here and Bedford village.
Captain Fancher passed with a lantern, and I ventured to accost him and mention very modestly my present misgivings concerning our present situation.
“Sir,” said the Captain, dryly, “I am more concerned in this matter than are you; and I have taken it upon myself to protest to Major Tallmadge, who is at this moment gone once more to Colonel Sheldon with very serious representations.”
“Lieutenant Boyd and I have volunteered as a scout of three,” I said, “but Colonel Sheldon has declined our services with scant politeness.”
Fancher stood far a moment, his rain-smeared lantern hanging motionless at his side.
“Tarleton may not ride tonight,” he said, and moved off a step or two; then, turning: “But, damn him, I think he will,” said he. And walked away, swinging his light as furiously as a panther thrashes his tail.
By the pointers of my watch it now approached three o’clock in the morning, and the storm was nothing abating. I had entirely despaired of the Sagamore’s coming, and was beginning to consider the sorry pickle which this alarm must leave us in if Tarleton’s Legion came upon us now; and that with our widely scattered handfuls we could only pull foot and await another day to find our Sagamore; when, of a sudden there came a-creeping through the darkness, out o’ the very maw of the storm, a slender shape, wrapped to the eyes in a ragged scarlet cape. I knew her; but I do not know how I knew her.
“It is you!” I exclaimed, hastening forward to draw her under shelter.
She came obediently with me, slipping in between the lanterns and among the horses, moving silently at my elbow to the farther shed, which was empty.
“You use me very kindly,” I said, “to venture abroad tonight on my behalf.”
“I am abroad,” she said, “on behalf of my country.”
Only her eyes I could see over the edge of the scarlet cloak, and they regarded me very coldly.
“I meant it so,” I said hastily, “What of the Sagamore? Will he come?”
“He will come as I promised you.”
“Here?” I said, delighted. “This very night?”
