_Jubal._
The next day the two girls parted, not to meet again for many a long
day. Aunt Martha had received a letter from her husband, in which he
begged that she would leave the plantation and return to Baltimore.
He had heard of the depredations along the Chesapeake, and was filled
with anxiety for her. Therefore she concluded to follow his advice, and
made ready to go back to her city home. Betty, likewise, vowed that
she could not remain, for these late scenes had completely unnerved
her, and she decided to pack up and go to her father in Kent County,
and Lettice agreed to go with her, after receiving the approval of her
brother Tom as to the step.
“I will hunt up William,” he said, “and will report to him of your
movements.”
Before he left, he told them of how he had been picked up by a British
vessel, on that day, so long ago, when he had fallen overboard, and how
he had fallen into the captain’s humor when he pretended to believe
he was one of his own men, and he had joined the service, determining
to escape when he had enough of it. Later on he found himself on board
a vessel on which were his old acquaintances, Pat Flynn and Johnny
Carter. The three put their heads together and laid plans by which they
might manage to get away. Tom was the first to make the attempt, and
one dark night dropped overboard. He had not given his true name to any
one during all this time, nor did he do so when he was picked up by an
American vessel.
“I shall never forget,” he said, “how bravely a young lieutenant stood
by me. He was taking in a prize when he sent out a boat to pick me up,
and after I told him my story, he swore he would never give me up,
though he died for it. He had a chance to prove his words not long
after, and stand by me he did, to such an extent that a fight was on
before I knew it, and we carried in two prizes instead of one. But
as ill luck would have it, on my way home I was taken prisoner just
outside our own bay, for the vessel on which I was returning had a
little set-to with a British cruiser, and I was nabbed and brought in.
But home was too near for me not to make desperate efforts to get to
it, and so I did, with what result you see. I hope Pat got away. Poor
fellow, he was bent on it, if chance offered.”
“He did then,” Lettice was able to tell him, and she gave an account of
him; then begged Tom to continue his story.
“As I was making for shore,” he went on, “swimming up the little creek
I knew so well, whom should I see at the old landing where we always
kept the boat, but some one else getting ready to row across; and who
should it be but Jamie. I did not know him, for he was only a little
chap when I last saw him, but he recognized me, and was overjoyed to
see me, in spite of all my misdeeds, and we started off, when pell-mell
came a party of British after me. The best thing we could do was to
try to cut across and reach home the long way, instead of coming over
the creek. So we landed, and at first got along very well, but the
wretches, piloted by some one who knew the way, caught sight of us
just before we reached here. Jamie kept encouraging me, and said if we
could but get to the house it would be all right, and he reminded me of
our old hiding-place; but I tripped and fell over the roots of the old
locust tree, and Jamie, never thinking of saving himself, stopped to
help me up. I cried out to him to go on, but he would not, and he was
hit just as we reached the steps. I didn’t even know it, for he called
out, ‘I’m right behind you, Tom’, and--” he stopped short and could
not go on. Lettice was sobbing, her face against her brother’s broad
shoulder.
Betty’s tears were falling fast, and she said unsteadily, “Greater love
hath no man than this.”
“Go on, Tom,” said Lettice. “Our dear one is safe; oh, so safe.”
“God grant that when my time comes, I shall not forget his example!”
said Tom, brokenly. He was silent for a moment, and then went on with
his story. “I had the wit to blow out the candle, and I ran upstairs to
the little closet under the eaves at the end of the garret, that was
struck by lightning and boarded up afterward; you know the place, and
how it can be reached from the roof by going down the scuttle on that
side.”
“They hunted through the garret well,” said Betty, “but there was so
much piled up this side that they never dreamed there could be any one
beyond. I had forgotten the place myself, though William has often told
me how you boys used to hide there and make a playroom of that end of
the garret.”
“Jamie had suggested it as a good place, and told me I would find it
just the same, so I concealed myself till, through the chinks, I saw
the rascals go off, and then as Jamie had not come, I was seized with
a mighty fear for him, and could not stay. It will be sad news for our
father.”
“Yes; but there will be good news for him, too,” Lettice tried to
comfort him by saying. “We have you again.”
A little later, with a quiet good-by to her brother, she parted from
him and made ready for her own departure. Lutie, her unwilling helper,
dawdled so persistently over the packing that Lettice at last spoke up
sharply. “We’ll never get ready at this rate. I’ll leave you here to be
gobbled up by the British if you don’t move faster, Lutie.” But this
threat did not seem to have the desired effect, for, though Lutie hung
her head, she looked more cheerful, and Lettice, bending down, regarded
her searchingly. “I believe you want to stay,” she said severely. “I
believe you want to desert your mistress, Lutie.”
Lutie’s head hung still lower. “No, ma’am, Miss Letty, ’deed I doesn’t;
but I wisht yuh wa’nt gwine.”
“Why? You are so scared of Cockburn and his men, and yet, now there is
danger, you don’t want to leave. Ah, I see; it is Jubal. And what does
Jubal say, pray?”
“He say dey ain’ gwine tech me, but dey gwine run yuh-alls off. An’
he say ef he’d a knowed hit were Mars Torm what runned f’om ’em, he’d
foun’ a way ter git him home better’n de way he come.”
“Humph!” Lettice was thoughtful. “Lutie,” she cried suddenly, “I
believe it was Jubal who informed on him. It was Jubal who showed
those wretches the short way here, and he had caused your dear Marster
Jamie’s death. Oh, the wretch! Why did I spare him?”
“’Deed, Miss Letty, he ain’t gwine hu’t a hair o’ yo’ haid; Jubal ain’.
He turr’ble bad over losin’ Mars Jeems; he weep, an’ mo’n, an’ go on;
’deed he do, Miss Letty. He sutt’nly fon’ o’ Mars Jeems. Ev’ybody love
him, Miss Letty, an’ Jubal nuvver do him no ha’m, please, Miss Letty.”
“Hush, let me think.” She sat with her cheek pensively resting in her
hand, thinking deeply. All at once there was heard a clatter below.
“Hark!” she cried, starting up. “See what that is, Lutie.”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted her, and without waiting a response
the room was entered by two or three British soldiers. “We demand that
you give up the deserter who has taken refuge here,” said the foremost
one.
“No deserter is here,” replied Lettice, steadily.
“I must beg leave to contradict you,” said the man, looking admiringly
at the girl so fair and slight in her black frock.
“I speak the truth,” she returned. “You are at liberty to search the
premises. Look for yourselves.”
“We must press you and your maid into our service,” said the man.
“Here, you wench,” he turned to Lutie, “go with your mistress and show
us where the man is hidden.” He drew his pistol and touched the cold
muzzle to Lutie’s temple. The girl gave a stifled scream, and Lettice
grew paler.
“You may use whatever force you choose, but you will not succeed in
finding any one hidden here,” she said. “I have three brothers; one
left us something like a week ago--”
“To join your wretched militia, I suppose, and that makes this place
our property. We are ordered to spare only non-combatants and their
possessions. Help yourselves, boys. Well, miss, the others, where are
they?”
“My eldest brother has gone to join the younger.”
“Then it is the third we want. Hand him over. Where is he?”
“Lying in our little graveyard,” Lettice answered brokenly, “slain by
one of your bullets. He who had never done wrong to friend or enemy
lies there.” She covered her face with her hands, and sobs shook her.
The man was silent for a moment; then he said more gently: “My dear
young lady, we had what we supposed to be reliable information on the
subject of our deserter. One of your own men told us we should find him
here.”
Lutie gave a smothered exclamation, and Lettice, dropping her hands
from her tear-stained face, said, “Could you point him out to me?” She
would have her brother Tom get as far on his way as possible; it was
policy to detain these men, and she would know who was this snake in
the grass.
“Yes; I think there would be no difficulty in identifying him,” replied
the man. “Go out, Clarke, and see if you can find the fellow. Bring him
in here, and see what he will say when confronted by his mistress. If
the fellow lied--” The click of a trigger told what would happen.
Lettice with bowed head waited results. Lutie, trembling in every
limb, cast scared glances at her mistress.
In a few minutes was heard the tread of the returning soldier, and
Lutie fell on her knees, clasping Lettice’s skirt. “Spare him, Miss
Letty, spare him,” she murmured.
“Get up, wench,” cried one of the men. “Let your mistress alone. See
here, captain, she’s not a bad-looking jade. I’ll help myself to her,
by your leave, and ship her to my wife.”
Lutie leaped to her feet and rushed toward the in-coming figures of
Jubal and his guard. Jubal, with dogged expression, came slinking in
behind the soldier. “Found him easy enough,” said the latter. “Here,
get out of the way, girl.” He gave Lutie a kick.
“Save me! Save me, Jubal!” Lutie wailed. “Dey gwine sen’ me off, an’ I
nuvver come back no mo’. Oh, save me, Jubal!”
“Shut up,” cried the captain. “Here, boy, didn’t you tell us there was
a deserter around here somewhere?”
“Ya-as suh, I--I--done said so,” Jubal stammered.
“Well, where is he? This lady protests that he is not here.”
Jubal rolled his eyes upon his mistress, and then, with chattering
teeth, said, “He were here, suh.”
“Jubal,” said Lettice, solemnly, “do you mean your Marster Tom?”
Jubal looked from one side to the other. “I didn’ know hit were Mars
Torm, in de fus’ place, Miss Letty, an’ when I fins dat out, I skeered
to say nobody heah. Beside dat, Mars Torm gimme a whuppin’ oncet.”
“And you deserved it,” cried his mistress. “You ham-strung his colt
because the creature kicked you when you were stealing a ride on him,
and you deserved worse than a whipping. You always were a bad fellow,
Jubal. I wonder that father did not sell you long ago. I would to
Heaven he had!”
“Then your man spoke the truth. There was a deserter here,” said the
captain, turning to Lettice.
“There was, if so you choose to consider him, but he is gone. He left
us this morning, and when you arrived he was far on his way.”
“Why did you not say so at once?”
“That he might be farther on his way.”
“Ah-h!” The man smiled. “Well, miss, we’ll search the place, anyhow.
There may be other things to learn, and we’ll take your maid as a
punishment to you for defying his Majesty’s servants. We will leave
your loyal man to your tender mercies.”
Lettice laid her hand on Lutie’s shoulder. “I’d rather you’d leave the
maid, sir. It seems to me the man is more devoted to your cause than
mine.”
“Oh, Jubal, save me, save me!” Lutie wailed.
“Stop that noise,” said the captain, sternly. “Here, boy, I want you.
We’ll have a lark, my men. The man shall fight for the maid. If he
puts up a good fight, we will let her go, and if he doesn’t, we will
take her. Give him a sword, Clarke. We’ll have fair play.” But as
soon as Jubal saw the sword and felt himself freed from the grasp of
his captor’s hand on his shoulder, with one wild yell, he rushed out
pell-mell, head over heels, every soldier after him.
“Now’s your chance,” cried Lettice, to the terrified Lutie. “Run,
Lutie, run to the attic. I’ll hide you.” And in the same place that had
offered shelter to her brother a few days before, she hid the girl,
and then she ran lightly downstairs. She reached her room before the
soldiers returned, and was busied with her packing when they again
appeared, laughing and shouting.
“The fellow had nimble heels,” said the captain. “He got away, and I
venture to say he’ll not stop this side of Baltimore, unless Clarke
catches him, for he is still in pursuit. I’ve told him he can have him
if he catches him, and Steele, here, will take the maid. Where is she?”
“That you will have to find out for yourselves,” returned Lettice,
dauntlessly.
“Aha, you refuse to tell? What shall we do about it, Steele? Shall we
capture the mistress instead? We might take her a short trip to Kent
Island for her health, eh, Steele?”
“Divil a bit, will ye,” cried a voice at the door. “Ye murtherin’
spalpeens, ye’ll take Miss Lettice, will ye? Ye’ll take this!” Then
crying, “Come on, bhys!” Pat Flynn, laying about him with cudgel and
sword, so lustily began his defence of the girl, that in a moment one
man was disabled and the others had fled, pursued by Pat with his
wild Irish yell and his shouts of: “Come on, bhys, we’ll not lave
the villyuns a whole hair to split. Come on, the whole pack of ye!”
Lettice, seeing that the “bhys” existed wholly in Pat’s imagination,
speeded his rescue by whistling up the dogs and setting them on the
fleeing men who, with dogs worrying them, an Irishman’s shillalah
setting their heads buzzing, at last got off the place, vowing
vengeance.
“We’ve no time to lose,” said Pat. “They’ll like be on us again as soon
as they can get rayinfoorcemints. We’ll have to get out purty quick,
Miss Letty. Where is Miss Betty?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How did you happen to come just in the nick of time?
I didn’t know you were well enough to show such strength.”
“’Tis all the doin’s of the old naygur woman, sure, Miss Letty. She’s
that grand a nurse I never saw. I’d have been away from here this good
bit, but she advises me to lay low, sayin’ there’s trouble brewin’, an’
I might be needed. ’Twas she, the cute old owl of a crittur, that give
me the hint to slip in on ye aisy loike this mornin’, ‘fur,’ says she,
‘there do be some o’ thim divils o’ ridcoats goin’ in the direction of
the great house, Misther Pat,’ says she, an’ I picks up the shillalee
I’ve been havin’ by me this week back, an’ off I goes. The swoord,
’twas me luck to find outside the dhoor. Ye’d betther not be wastin’
toime, Miss Letty, dear.”
“But that wounded man in my room?”
“Lave him there. He’ll git no betther place this long while, I’m
thinkin’. I’ll be afther gittin’ the horses and carriage ready as quick
as I can, Miss Letty, an’ do you an’ Miss Betty thry yer purtiest to
git off.”
“Betty! Sister Betty!” Lettice’s call rang through the silent house.
“Oh, where are you?” She ran up and down stairs, and at last from the
drawing-room came a smothered answer, “Here.”
“Come out from your hiding-place. Wherever you are, come quick.” And
from behind the pile of green boughs placed in the fireplace to screen
it, a grimy, sooty Betty appeared, with her baby in her arms. The
little fellow had kept a noble silence, although but half understanding
that there was a cause for fear. Every servant on the place had made
for the woods when the word had gone forth that the redcoats were
chasing Jubal. Even the house servants had not been able to resist
joining in the general stampede, and Lutie, up in the little closet,
alone remained.
“Hurry out and get into the carriage,” cried Lettice. “It is around by
the side of the house. Pat Flynn is there. Hurry, hurry, Betty; don’t
stop to wash your face. I am coming in one minute.”
Betty caught up a bag of the articles she had already packed, and
Lettice called from the window to Pat to please try to get her trunk on
behind. Then she skurried about, picking up this thing and that, and
thrusting it into a pillow case which, when full, she pitched out of
the window. This done, with fleet steps she ran up to the attic. “Out
with you, quick, Lutie!” she cried. “Come as quick as you can, or you
will get left behind.” And Lutie, after scrambling out on the roof and
down the chimney on the other side, reached her mistress, who stood
waiting for her. “You will be safe, Lutie, if you hurry!” she told her.
“Come on. Don’t stop to get anything.” She grasped the girl’s arm and
fairly dragged her down the steep stairs. Yet, pressed for time though
she was, she could not forbear stopping at the door of her room to look
in at the man who lay on the floor. He was the same who had claimed
Lutie. A sudden thought of Jamie froze all compassion from Lettice’s
breast.
“Sir, we leave you to the tender mercies of your own friends,” she
said. “You see I mean to keep my maid. You cannot send her to your
wife.” Then she turned with a gentle smile to Lutie. “Come,” she said,
“we will go, but I think we may never see the old house again, and I do
not think you will ever see Jubal again, Lutie.”
The maid caught her mistress’s hand in both of hers and laid her smooth
brown cheek upon it. “Yuh loves me better’n Jubal does, Miss Letty. He
lef’ me. He wa’n’t willin’ ter fight fo’ me. Yuh didn’t run an’ leave
me, Miss Letty. De Lord bless yuh, my Miss Letty. I don’ spec I uvver
see dat fool Jubal agin, an’ I don’ keer. I belongs ter yuh, an’ I is
say my pra’rs ter God A’mighty fo’ dat till I dies.”
“We take our leave of you, monsieur,” said Lettice with a sweeping
courtesy, as she turned to leave the doorway. The man shook a feeble
fist at her as she disappeared.
“To leave my room so occupied is dreadful,” said Lettice; “yet better
that than to be dragged from it myself. Good-by old home,” she cried,
waving her hand. “We may never see you again.”
“Don’t say so,” Betty entreated. “I want to think I am coming back
soon.” But she, too, gazed out as long as she could, and until the
trees hid the last bit of the white house.
True enough, it was a last look, for an hour later a band of angry men
appeared, who, after having rescued their fallen comrade, plundered the
house and set fire to it, and by night only a mass of smouldering ruins
remained.
The carriage was driven along at a lively pace, Pat proving himself as
good a driver as a fighter. He had fully recovered from his wounds and
was eager to get back to Baltimore, to see service, and to find Mr.
Joe. Young Tom Hopkins had started for the North to join his father.
“To show him that I mean to do something to wipe out my past record,”
he said.
Pat would not give any credence to the belief that Joe was lost. “He’s
gone off to some av thim furrin countries, an’ is lookin’ out fur
prizes. He’s not lost at all, to my thinkin’,” he said. This Lettice
wrote to Patsey, who was much comforted thereby.
Patsey, too, had retreated from her home to a safe distance, and was
with friends in Washington. She had begged Lettice to go with her, but
Lettice had refused, saying that she would be better content in a quiet
place, where the merry ways of her little nephew would bring her more
solace than could anything else. She devoted much time to the little
fellow, who grew more and more winsome every day, and was so adored by
Betty’s parents that he was in danger of being spoiled.
During the remainder of the year Lettice passed in a quiet village
in the county of Kent. Betty, glad enough to be with her own family,
soon regained her spirits; and Lettice herself, deeply as she grieved
over the loss of her brother, was not uncomforted by the return of her
eldest brother, and by the assurance of being in as safe a place as
was afforded. Tom, be it said, had thrown himself heart and soul into
the war. He had too many scores to settle, not to deal such blows as
opportunity allowed him. For a month or so life was very peaceful for
Lettice, and then came a new trouble: Lutie disappeared. Whether she
had stolen off of her own accord, or whether she had been captured,
could not be discovered. Lettice firmly believed the latter to be the
truth, and mourned her little maid with real sorrow.