_Escape._
Lettice ran desperately fast to gain her horse, but for a moment it
seemed that all were lost, for the sound of oars had ceased, and
instead, shouts were heard; an approaching party of men answered their
comrades, who, worsted by a girl’s stratagem, would stand at nothing.
It took but a few minutes for Lettice’s captive to free himself, and
his first movement was toward the girl. He was in a fury. One sweep of
his sword, one shot from his pistol, and their chances were gone.
Ellicott Baldwin, between his set teeth, hissed, “I will kill her and
myself, too, before she shall fall into their vile hands.” Suddenly, as
if to favor them, the moon disappeared behind a dense cloud, and when
it struggled forth again, the man and the maid had vanished. Where? It
seemed as if the earth had swallowed them up. The horses stood there,
but not a sign of their riders. On each side of the road lay level
stretches overgrown with weeds and bordered by straggling blackberry
bushes. Farther away, where a shallow creek made up into the land, were
trees growing to the water’s edge.
“Beat the bushes! Search everywhere!” cried Lettice’s late captive.
“I’ll have that girl if she’s above ground. The little jade, to play me
such a trick!”
But not a sign of the fugitives could be found, and after more than an
hour’s fruitless search, the men returned to their boats and to their
station on Kent Island.
Meantime, Lettice and her companion had made their escape through the
girl’s knowledge of the country. She had whispered, “Over the fence!
Quick!” and herself had led the way by springing into the bramble
bushes on one side the road. The thorns played havoc with her light
gown, but she tore herself free from them, ran along a few steps, and
leaped into a hollow filled with rubbish. Here an old house had stood;
now it was burnt to the ground, and among and around its blackened
foundations grew tall weeds which completely hid it from view. Lettice
led the way, and her companion followed blindly. At the rear the
ground sloped gradually down to the creek, so that by stooping low,
as they made a pathway through mullein, wild carrot, and ragweed,
they could not be seen by those nearer the road. Fortunately, their
followers did not strike upon the tumble-down house, or it would not
have been an easy matter to reach the creek without being seen.
Neither spoke till the silver gleam of the little creek showed in the
moonlight, now struggling through the clouds.
“I am almost spent!” gasped Lettice; “but if they have left the boat
this side, we are safe. Over yonder in the woods lives an old negro
woman. She is considered a real hoodoo by the darkeys, but she is
devoted to all our family, for she belonged to my grandfather, who set
her free, and gave her this bit of land in those woods of his.” She
gave the information in detached sentences, as she limped along the
shores of the creek.
“You can scarcely walk,” said Mr. Baldwin. “You have lamed yourself.”
“Have I? I was scarcely conscious of it. I have stepped on many sharp
stones, and these thin slippers are not much protection. No, there is
no boat,” she said, after some searching. “What shall we do? We have
made a short cut, but those wretches may yet find us, if we keep this
side of the creek. Oh, I am afraid they will; I am afraid!” She caught
Mr. Baldwin’s arm with a sudden fear.
“God forbid that they should find us!”
“You are hurt too. You are wounded, I know, but do you think you could
swim to that little island in mid-stream? I would rather drown in
making the attempt than have them get me.”
“And I would rather you did. I think I can make it, and I can help you.”
“Oh, I can swim, if I have the strength. I but need that. Hark!”
There was a sound of voices and of crackling branches among the trees
behind them, and, with one accord, they plunged into the stream, and
with slow, but sure progress, swimming, floating, or making feeble
strokes, managed to reach the opposite shore, and when they drew
themselves up on the sands, their pursuers were parted from them by a
considerable stream of water.
Lettice dropped almost fainting on the ground, and her companion was
hardly less exhausted. It would have been a very trifling feat for
either one of them, ordinarily, but the previous strain had nearly
robbed them of their strength, and they sat there for some moments,
scarce able and scarce daring to move.
“We are very wet,” said Mr. Baldwin at last.
Lettice gave a feebly hysterical laugh. “I am very conscious of it. It
is a warm night, but I confess to feeling cooler than is agreeable. Do
you think they will attempt to cross?”
“No; and I am sure they did not discover us. They did not dream of
looking in this direction.”
“That good, kind moon,” said Lettice, raising her face. “She was so
good to screen us with her clouds just at the right moment.”
“There are times when clouds can be of more use than sunshine, it
seems.”
“In this case, surely. Now I am thinking that if it should come on to
rain, we would be in a sorry plight. We cannot be much wetter than we
are, but there would be no chance of getting dry if it should rain.
When we are rested, I think we can find the boat we want to take us
over to the mainland. The water is quite shallow beyond, and persons
often ford the stream to this island, leave their horses here and
boat over to the shore we have left. Since we found no boat there, I
conclude it is here.”
“That is good news. We are not cast on a desert island then.”
“No, as long as we can find the means to leave it. I think the boat
would be over in that direction, among the bushes. We shall have to
row around the island to the other side. Do you suppose we can do so
without fear of being seen?”
“I think our pursuers have given up the hope of finding us, for they
seemed to be going back the way they came. I think we are safe, but it
will not do to take any needless risk.”
“It was a party of Cockburn’s men from Kent Island, I suppose. They are
raiding around in every direction. At St. Michael’s they have not dared
to use any lights, except such as they must have, for months, and it
is the same everywhere about. We live in constant dread of them.” She
shuddered and hid her face in her hands, but in a moment she looked up.
“Mr. Baldwin,” she said, “I have brought you into great danger which I
might have spared you if I had consented to do as my brother wished. I
must seem disloyal, as well as obstinate and over impulsive.”
“None of those things. You have been brave, and true to your
compassionate nature. As for me, save that you were in great danger,
the experience is one that I might meet at any time. I am not
seriously hurt; a cut or two; no bones broken. I have come off well.
Pray do not distress yourself on my account. My sole concern is for
you.”
“Shall we try to get across now? It must be very late.”
“I think it is, and growing cloudier all the time. Did you say the boat
was this way? Sit still. Please do not make any more effort than you
need. Those little feet have been too sorely tried already.”
The boat was found in its place, and they embarked upon the little
creek, by degrees making their way around the island, and then across
to the opposite shore.
“I trust it is not far, for your sake,” said Mr. Baldwin, seeing how
utterly exhausted the girl was.
“No, it is but a little way.” Yet every step was torture to the already
bruised feet, and tears were running down the girl’s cheeks when at
last they stopped at the door of old Hagar’s little hut.
Mr. Baldwin rapped sharply. “Who dar?” came a startled response.
“It is I, Aunt Hagar; Lettice, Mars Jeems’s Lettice.”
[Illustration: “_What yuh doin’ hyar dis time o’ night?_”]
“Law, chile! Fo’ de Lawd!” came the reply, and in an instant there was
a withdrawal of bolts and bars, and the old woman’s head was thrust
out.
“What yuh doin’ hyar dis time o’ night, honey chile?” she asked,
peering out into the darkness. “Huccome yuh lookin’ up ole Hagar? I
specs yuh in lub,” she chuckled; but when Lettice and her companion
stepped into the cabin and Aunt Hagar had struck a light, she looked at
the two in astonishment. “Law, chile,” she exclaimed, “yuh look lak ole
rag-bag. What got yuh? Mos’ bar’ footy, an’ all yo’ clo’es tattered an’
to’n; an’ who dis?” She peered up into Mr. Baldwin’s face. “I knows
him. He one o’ de Bald’in tribe. Dat a Bald’in nose. I know dat ef I
see it in Jericho. What yuh doin’ wif mah young miss out in de worl’
dis time o’ night?” she asked suspiciously.
“We were at Uncle Tom’s, and were attacked by a party of Britishers on
our way home,” Lettice told her.
“Some o’ dat mizzible gang from Kent Island, I reckons.”
“Yes, we suppose so. Well, we had a desperate time getting away from
them. Mr. Baldwin fought--oh, how he fought!”
“And you, Miss Hopkins, how well you did your part.”
“It was life or death, and we at last did escape, but we have lost our
horses, and are too footsore and bruised and scared to go farther.”
“Ole Hagar fix yuh up. I has ’intment, yuh knows I has; an’ I has
yarbs; but, fo’ de Lawd, I’ll cunjur dem Britishers, ef dey is a way
to do it, dat I will. Dere now, honey, let me wrop up dem po’ litty
footies. Hm! Hm! dey is stone bruise, an’ dey is scratch, an’ dey is
strain an’ sprain, an’ what ain’ dey? But dis cyo’ ’em. Now lemme see
what young marster a-needin’. Hm! Hm! he slash an’ slit; swo’d cut on
he shoulder. Huccome he fight an’ swim an’ row, I dunno, wif all dese
yer slashes, an’ t’ars, an’ all dat. Yuh bofe has sholy been froo de
mill. I say yuh has.” And talking all the time, the old woman managed
to make her visitors really comfortable, as she ministered to them with
deft, experienced fingers.
“Now, Aunt Hagar,” said Mr. Baldwin, when she had put on her last
bandage, “I will leave Miss Lettice in your care, and I will go to her
home and report that she is safe. They will be very anxious.”
“Oh, but you are not fit to go any farther,” Lettice protested.
“Oh, yes, I am. You do not know what a charm Aunt Hagar has put into
these ointments. Your family will be in great distress of mind, and I
think it would be best that I should go and reassure them.”
“Yes, honey, he better go,” said Aunt Hagar, from the corner where she
was busying herself with some mysterious mixture. “Mars Bald’in, drink
dis, honey, hit give yuh stren’th, an’ mek yuh git over de groun’ lak
a rabbit. Jess follow de paf to de spring, den strike off to de lef’,
an’ whenst yuh come to de hayricks by de right side de road, yuh is jes
back o’ Mars William’s barn. Hit a roun’erbout way, but hit’s better
dan crossin’ de water. I’ll look out fo’ Miss Letty. Yuh tell ’em Aunt
Hagar got her, an’ dey satify she all right. An’ tell ’em,” she went to
the door and spoke in a whisper, “tell ’em not to raise a cry all roun’
de neighborhood dat she out dis-a-way. Dey is folks dat love to talk,
an’ I don’ want de chile’s name to be made free wif, an’ have ’em say
she traipsin roun’ de country wif young men all hours of de night. Yuh
hyar me?”
“I agree with you, certainly, Aunt Hagar, and I shall do my part in
keeping the matter quiet. A young lady’s name is too delicate a thing
to be bandied about by those who are merely curious. I will see you
again soon, Aunt Hagar. I haven’t thanked you half as I should for your
kindness.”
Aunt Hagar beamed, and as she reëntered the room and stood over
Lettice, where she sat in a low splint-bottomed chair, she said:
“He blue blood. I knows dat. Some folkses has money but dey hasn’t
nothin’ e’s. He got de name an’ de manners of a gent’man.” She stroked
Lettice’s hair with her withered old hand. “Now, honey,” she went on,
“I gwine give yuh a drink o’ sumpin’ to put yuh to sleep, an’ yuh ain’
gwine wake up no mo’ twel de sun three hours high; an’ I gwine put a
name in dis cup so yuh dreams gwine be sweet an’ pleasant. Yuh is had a
bad ’sperience, an’ yuh might have turr’ble dreams ef yuh didn’t have
no chawm ter stop ’em. Drink dis, honey, hit tas’ es sweet an’ good,
an’ won’ hu’t a kitten. I mek yo’ baid up nice an’ clean, an’ yuh sleep
lak a baby.”
“But where will you sleep?” Lettice asked.
“I sleep whar I sleep. Yuh reckon I uses dat baid? I sleeps whar I
sleeps; in dis cheer, on de flo’, anywhar I lak. Yuh don’ reckon I
sleeps in dat baid dese hot nights? No, ma’am, I sleeps whar I sleeps.”
And despite Lettice’s protests she would have her take possession of
the high four-posted bed with its bright patchwork quilt, and its
fresh white sheets; and in a few minutes the exhausted girl was fast
asleep.
She awakened the next morning to hear the patter of rain on the roof,
and to see Aunt Hagar crouching over a fire, giving her attention to a
fine pone browning in the bake kettle. There was an odor of sizzling
bacon, of coffee, and of some herby mess which Lettice could not
identify. She sat up in bed, and called, “Aunt Hagar.”
The old woman arose with alacrity. “I ’lows hit mos’ time fo’ yuh to
wek up. I has yo’ brekfus mos’ done, an’ yo’ clo’es is dry an’ ready
fo’ yuh. Yo’ stockings is too raggety fo’ yuh to w’ar, an’ yo’ purty
frock ain’ nothin’ but strips an’ strings. Yuh has to w’ar hit though;
hit clean. An’ ’tain’ no matter ’bout de stockin’s, yuh ain’ gwine put
yo’ footies to de groun’ fo’ a week; dat I say.”
“But they feel much better; so much. And, oh, Aunt Hagar, you must have
been up very early to have washed and ironed all my things.”
“I gits up when I ready. I nuvver has no rug’lar time fo’ gittin’ up
an’ gwine to baid,” she explained; and then she helped Lettice on
with her clothes, after bringing her warm water in a tin basin, and
attending to her wants. Then she made ready the breakfast on a deal
table to which Lettice was assisted, after having been made to drink a
copious draught of herb tea.
“Mek yuh eat hearty, chile. Mek yuh feel nice, an’ keep off de chills,
an’ mek yuh rosy an’ purty. Yuh doan’ want dem pale cheeks when Mars
Bald’in’ aroun’,” coaxingly said Aunt Hagar.
Lettice laughed, and, with a wry face, swallowed the draught, and, to
her surprise, she found herself ready for a hearty breakfast, which
seemed to taste uncommonly good, for Aunt Hagar was a famous cook and
nurse, as she was a noted “conjur woman.”
The girl had hardly finished her meal when “rap-rap” came at the door,
and the latch was lifted to disclose her brother and her sister Betty,
with the carriage, pillows, wraps, and all such paraphernalia. Sister
Betty fell on Lettice’s neck, kissing and compassionating her. “Oh, you
dear child, I was afraid you would be in a raging fever this morning.
Oh, you poor little thing, what a dreadful, dreadful time you have had!
Naughty girl, to run away from your home. Come, William, pick her up
and carry her out to the carriage. It is not raining so hard, but her
poor little tootsie-wootsies are all bound up, and she must be in a
sorry plight, in spite of her brave looks.”
“Aunt Hagar has been so good to me,” Lettice told them. “She has made
a new girl of me. I am in rags, but they are clean ones, thanks to
Aunt Hagar. I feel wonderfully peart this morning, after my woful
adventures. And how is Mr. Baldwin? I judge he reached you safely.”
“Yes, but in rather a sorry plight, for it was raining hard when he
arrived, and the extra effort was none too good for him; but we have
kept him in bed, and we will cosset him, and he will soon be well, I
hope. He has come off worse than you, for he has a high fever, and I
was loath to leave him; but Mammy is a good nurse, and I thought she
could do better for him than I.”
“He is a brave fellow,” William put in. “He made little of his part in
your affair, and much of yours, but his condition shows that he fought
manfully. Ah, little sister, if you had but stayed at home.”
“Now, William, you shall not scold,” Betty interrupted. “The child has
suffered enough, and she did what she thought was right, no doubt.”
“I did hope I could get the papers,” said Lettice, wistfully, “and I
thought the matter would be most easily settled so, and I was afraid
that it would be too late if I waited till morning, so I went, and it
was no use after all.”
“Yet, perhaps it was,” her brother said gravely, “for the papers have
come to light.”
Lettice opened her eyes wide. “And how were they found?”
“There is the mystery. Lutie brought them to me with a marvellous tale
of their being handed to her to be placed in my hands, and she either
pretended or she did not know who brought them. I questioned her, but
she stuttered and stammered, and told about some one in a great cloak,
and whose face she did not see, and she declared she was so mortal
scared that she couldn’t have told who it was, anyhow, and a lot of
stuff from which we could make neither head nor tail. But the papers
are safe, although no one knows but that they have been copied. I would
like to get at the bottom of the matter.”
“Perhaps I can,” replied Lettice, thoughtfully. “At all events, I am
glad they have been returned. And now we will go home.” So she was
bundled into the carriage, and reached home with a thankful heart. But
Aunt Hagar’s predictions came true, for it was a week before she could
put her feet to the ground.