BELT’S GHOST.
I found Belt fast asleep. The two draughts of whisky, heavy and hot,
had been a blanket to his senses, and he had gone off for a while to
another world to think and to struggle still, for he muttered and
squirmed in his restless slumber. His hand when I touched it was yet
hot with fever. He might, most likely would, be better when he awoke in
the morning, but he would be flat aback the remainder of the night. He
could conduct no further search in that house before the next day.
I was uncertain what to do, whether to remain there with Belt or go out
and help Whitestone with the watch. Duty to our cause said the latter,
but in truth other voices are sometimes as loud as that of duty. I
listened to one of the other.
I drew a chair near to Belt’s couch and sat down. He was still
muttering in his hot, sweaty sleep like one with anger at things, and
now and then threw out his long thin legs and arms. He looked like a
man tied down trying to escape.
The candle still burned on the table, but its light was feeble at best.
Shadows filled the corners of the room. I like sick-bed watches but
little, and least of all such as that. They make me feel as if I had
lost my place in a healthy world. To such purpose was I thinking when
Belt sat up with a suddenness that made me start, and cried in a voice
cracked with fever:
“Shelby, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here,” I replied with a cheeriness that I did not feel. “Lie
down and go to sleep, lieutenant, or you’ll be a week getting well.”
“I can’t go to sleep, and I haven’t been to sleep,” he said, raising
his voice, which had a whistling note of illness in it.
His eyes sparkled, and I could see that the machinery of his head was
working badly. I took him by the shoulders with intent to force him
down upon the couch; but he threw me off with sudden energy that took
me by surprise.
“Let me go,” he said, “till I say what I want to say.”
“Well, what is it?” I asked, thinking to pacify him.
“Shelby,” said he, belief showing all over his face, “I’ve seen a
ghost!”
A strong desire to laugh was upon me, but I did not let it best me, for
I had respect for Belt, who was my superior officer. I don’t believe in
ghosts; they never come to see me.
“You’re sick, and you’ve been dreaming, lieutenant,” I said. “Go to
sleep.”
“I’ll try to go to sleep,” he replied, “but what I say is truth, and
I’ve seen a ghost.”
“What did it look like?” I asked, remembering that it is best to fall
in with the humor of mad people.
“Like a woman,” he replied, “and that’s all I can say on that point,
for this cursed fever has drawn a veil over my eyes. I had shut them,
trying to go to sleep, but something kept pulling my eyelids apart, and
open they came again; there was the ghost, the ghost of a woman; it had
come through the wall, I suppose. It floated all around the room as
if it were looking for something, but not making a breath of a noise,
like a white cloud sailing through the air. I tell you, Shelby, I was
in fear, for I had never believed in such things, and I had laughed at
them.”
“What became of the ghost?” I asked.
“It went away just like it came, through the wall, I guess,” said Belt.
“All I know is that I saw it, and then I didn’t. And I want you to stay
with me, Shelby; don’t leave me!”
This time I laughed, and on purpose. I wanted to chirk Belt up a bit,
and I thought I could do it by ridiculing such a fever dream. But I
could not shake the conviction in him. Instead, his temper took heat
at my lack of faith. Then I affected to believe, which soothed him,
and exhaustion falling upon him I saw that either he would slumber
again or weakness would steal his senses. I thought to ease his mind,
and told him everything outside was going well; that Whitestone was
the best sentinel in the world, and not even a lizard could creep past
him though the night might be black as coal. Whereat he smiled, and
presently turning over on his side began to mutter, by which I knew
that a hot sleep was again laying hold of him.
After the rain it had turned very warm again, and I opened the window
for unbreathed air. Belt’s request that I stay with him, given in a
sort of delirium though it was, made good excuse for my remaining. If
ever he said anything about it I could allege his own words.
The candle burned down more on one side than on the other and its blaze
leaned over like a man sick. It served but to distort.
I looked at Belt and wondered why the mind too should grow weak, as
it most often does when disease lays hold of the body. In his healthy
senses, Belt--who, like most New Englanders, believed only what he
saw--would have jeered at the claims of a ghost. There was little
credulity in that lank, bony frame.
But I stopped short in such thoughts, for I noticed that which made my
blood quicken in surprise. Belt’s uniform was gone. I rose and looked
behind the couch, thinking the lieutenant in his uneasy squirmings
might have knocked it over there. But he had not done so; nor was it
elsewhere in the room. It had gone clean away--perhaps through the
wall, like Belt’s ghost. I wondered what Whitestone’s emotions would
be if a somewhat soiled and worn Continental uniform, with no flesh and
bones in it, should come walking down his beat.
I understood that it was a time for me to think my best, and I set
about it. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the wall in the
manner of those who do strenuous thinking. I shifted my gaze but once,
and then to put it upon Belt, who I concluded would not come back to
earth for a long time.
At the end of ten minutes I rose from my chair and went out into the
hall, leaving the candle still burning on the table. Perhaps I, too,
might find a ghost. I did not mean to lose the opportunity which might
never seek me again.
The hall ran the full width of the house and was broad. There was a
window at the end, but the light was so faint I could scarce see, and
in the corners and near the walls so much dusk was gathered that the
eye was of no use there. Yet, by much stealing about and reaching here
and there with my hands, I convinced myself that no ghost lurked in
that hall. But there was a stairway leading into an upper hall, and,
as silent as a ghost myself, for which I take pride, I stole up the
steps.
Just before I reached the top step I heard a faint shuffling noise like
that which a heavy and awkward ghost with poor use of himself would
most likely make. Nay, I have heard that ghosts never make noise, but I
see no reason why they shouldn’t, at least a little.
I crouched down in the shadow of the top step and the banisters. The
faint shuffling noise came nearer, and Belt’s lost uniform, upright and
in its proper shape, drifted past me and down the steps. I followed
lightly. I was not afraid. I have never heard, at least not with the
proper authenticity, that ghosts strike one, or do other deeds of
violence; so I followed, secure in my courage. The brass buttons on the
uniform gleamed a little, and I kept them in clear view. Down the steps
went the figure, and then it sped along the hall, with me after it. It
reached the front door, opened it half a foot and stood there. That was
my opportunity to hold discussion with a ghost, and I did not neglect
it. Forward I slipped and tapped with my fingers an arm of the uniform,
which inclosed not empty air but flesh and blood. Startled, the figure
faced about and saw my features, for a little light came in at the door.
“I offer congratulations on your speedy recovery from fever, Lieutenant
Belt,” I said, in a subdued tone.
“It was quick, it is true,” he replied, “but I need something more.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“Fresh air,” he replied. “I think I will go outside.”
“I will go with you,” I said. “Fevers are uncertain, and one can not
tell what may happen.”
He hesitated as if he would make demur, but I said:
“It is necessary to both of us.”
He hesitated no longer, but opened the door wider and stepped out into
the portico. I looked with much anxiety to see what sort of watch
was kept, and no doubt my companion did the same. It was good. Three
sentinels were in sight. Directly in front of us, and about thirty feet
away, was Whitestone. The skirmishers and their rifles had not yet gone
to sleep, for twice while we stood on the portico we saw the flash of
powder on the distant hills.
“Lieutenant, I think we had best walk in the direction of the firing
and make a little investigation,” I said.
“The idea is good,” he replied. “We will do it.”
We walked down the steps and into the yard. I was slightly in advance,
leading the way. We passed within a dozen feet of Whitestone, who
saluted.
“Sergeant,” said I, “Lieutenant Belt, who feels much better, and
I, wish to inquire further into the skirmishing. There may be some
significance for us in it. We will return presently.”
Whitestone saluted again and said nothing. Once more I wish to commend
Whitestone as a jewel. He did not turn to look at us when we passed
him, but stalked up and down as if he were a wooden figure moving on
hinges.
We walked northward, neither speaking. Some three or four hundred yards
from the house both of us stopped. Then I put my hand upon his arm
again.
“Albert,” I said, “your fortune is far better than you deserve, or ever
will deserve.”
“I don’t know about that,” he replied.
“I do,” I said. “Now, beyond those hills are the camp-fires of
Burgoyne. You came thus far easily enough in your effort to get out,
though Martyn, who came with you, failed, and you can go back the same
way; but, before you start, take off Belt’s uniform. I won’t have you
masquerading as an American officer.”
Without a word he took off the Continental uniform and stood in the
citizen’s suit in which I had first seen him, Belt being a larger man
than he. I rolled them up in a bundle and put the bundle under my arm.
“Shake hands,” he said. “You’ve done me a good turn.”
“Several of them,” I said, as I shook his hand, “which is several more
than you have done for me.”
“I don’t bear you any grudge on that account,” he said with a faint
laugh, as he strode off in the darkness toward Burgoyne’s army.
Which, I take it, was handsome of him.
I watched him as long as I could. You may not be able sometimes to
look in the darkness and find a figure, but when that figure departs
from your side and you never take your eyes off it, you can follow it
for a long way through the night. Thus I could watch Albert a hundred
yards or more, and I saw that he veered in no wise from the course I
had assigned to him, and kept his face turned to the army of Burgoyne.
But I had not doubted that he would keep his word and would not seek to
escape southward; nor did I doubt that he would reach his comrades in
safety.
I turned away, very glad that he was gone. Friends cause much trouble
sometimes, but girls’ brothers cause more.
I took my thoughts away from him and turned them to the business
of going back into the house with the wad of uniform under my arm,
which was very simple if things turned out all right. I believed
that Whitestone would be on guard at the same place, which was what
I wanted. I knew Whitestone would be the most vigilant of all the
sentinels, but I was accustomed to him. One prefers to do business with
a man one knows.
I sauntered back slowly, now and then turning about on my heels as if I
would spy out the landscape, which in truth was pretty well hid by the
thickness of the night.
As I approached the yard my heart gave a thump like a hammer on the
anvil; but there was Whitestone on the same beat, and my heart thumped
again, but with more consideration than before.
I entered the yard, and Whitestone saluted with dignity.
“Sergeant,” said I, “Lieutenant Belt is looking about on the other side
of the house. He fears that his fever is coming on him again, and he
will re-enter the house, but by the back door. I am to meet him there.”
Sergeant Whitestone saluted again. I said naught of the bundle in the
crook of my arm, which he could plainly see.
“Sergeant,” said I, “what do you think of a man who tells all he knows?”
“Very little, sir,” he replied.
“So do I,” I said; “but be that as it may, you know that you and I are
devoted to the patriot cause.”
“Aye, truly, sir!” he said.
We saluted each other again with great respect, and I passed into the
house.
Belt was still asleep upon the sofa and his fever was going down,
though he talked now and then of the things that were on his brain when
awake. The candle was dying, the tallow sputtering as the blaze reached
the last of it, and without another the thickness of the night would be
upon us.
I ascended the stairway into the upper hall again, but this time
with no attempt to rival a ghost in smoothness of motion. Instead, I
stumbled about like a man in whose head hot punch has set everything
to dancing. Presently Mistress Kate, bearing a candle in her hand and
dressed as if for the day--at which I was not surprised--appeared from
the side door.
I begged her for another candle, if the supply in the house were not
exhausted, and stepping back she returned in a moment with what I
desired; then in a tone of much sympathy she inquired as to the state
of Lieutenant Belt’s health. I said he was sleeping peacefully, and
suggested that she come and look at him, as she might have sufficient
knowledge of medicine to assist me in the case. To which she consented,
though ever one of the most modest of maidens.
I held the candle near Belt’s face, but in such position that the light
would not shine into his eyes and awaken him.
“But the lieutenant would rather be on his feet again and in these
garments,” I said, turning the light upon Belt’s uniform, which I had
carefully spread out again on the foot of the couch. Then I added:
“The wearer of that uniform has had many adventures, doubtless, but he
has not come to any harm yet.”
I might have talked further, but I knew that naught more was needed for
Kate Van Auken.
Moreover, no words could ever be cited against me.